INTERREGNUM
For a while now the people of the Northern States were compelled
passively to behold a spectacle which they could not easily reconcile
with the theory of the supreme excellence and wisdom of their system of
government. Abraham Lincoln was chosen President of the United States
November 6, 1860; he was to be inaugurated March 4, 1861. During the
intervening four months the government must be conducted by a chief
whose political creed was condemned by an overwhelming majority of the
nation.[114] The situation was as unfair for Mr. Buchanan as it was
hurtful for the people. As head of a republic, or, in the more popular
phrase, as the chief "servant of the people," he must respect the
popular will, yet he could not now administer the public business
according to that will without being untrue to all his own convictions,
and repudiating all his trusted counselors. In a situation so
intrinsically false efficient government was impossible, no matter what
was the strength or weakness of the hand at the helm. Therefore there
was every reason for displacing Buchanan from control of the national
affairs in the autumn, and every reason against continuing him in that
control through the winter; yet the law of the land ordained the latter
course. It seemed neither sensible nor even safe. During this doleful
period all descriptions of him agree: he seemed, says Chittenden,
"shaken in body and uncertain in mind,... an old man worn out by worry;"
while the Southerners also declared him as "incapable of purpose as a
child." To the like purport spoke nearly all who saw him.
During the same time Lincoln's position was equally absurd and more
trying. After the lapse of four months he was, by the brief ceremony of
an hour, to become the leader of a great nation under an exceptionally
awful responsibility; but during those four months he could play no
other part than simply to watch, in utter powerlessness, the swift
succession of crowding events, which all were tending to make his
administration of the government difficult, or even impossible.
Throughout all this long time, the third part of a year, which statutes
scarcely less venerable than the Constitution itself freely presented to
the disunion leaders, they safely completed their civil and military
organization, while the Northerners, under a ruler whom they had
discredited, but of whom they could not get rid, were paralyzed for all
purposes of counter preparation.
As a trifling compensation for its existence this costly interregnum
presents to later generations a curious spectacle. A volume might be
made of the public utterances put forth in that time by men of familiar
names and more or less high repute, and it would show many of them in
most strange and unexpected characters, so entirely out of keeping with
the years which they had lived before, and the years which they were to
live afterward, that the reader would gaze in hopeless bewilderment. In
the "solid" South, so soon to be a great rebelling unit, he would find
perhaps half of the people opposed to disunion; in the North he would
hear everywhere words of compromise and concession, while coercion would
be mentioned only to be denounced. If these four months were useful in
bringing the men of the North to the fighting point, on the other hand
they gave an indispensable opportunity for proselyting, by whirl and
excitement, great numbers at the South. Even in the autumn of 1860 and
in the Gulf States secession was still so much the scheme of leaders
that there was no popular preponderance in favor of disunion doctrines.
In evidence of this are the responses of governors to a circular letter
of Governor Gist of South Carolina, addressed to them October 5, 1860,
and seeking information as to the feeling among the people. From North
Carolina, Louisiana, Georgia, and Alabama came replies that secession
was not likely to be favorably received. Mississippi was non-committal.
Louisiana, Georgia, and Alabama desired a convention of the
discontented States, and might be influenced by its action. North
Carolina, Louisiana, and Alabama would oppose forcible coercion of a
seceding State. Florida alone was rhetorically belligerent. These
reports were discouraging in the ears of the extremist governor; but
against them he could set the fact that the disunionists had the
advantage of being the aggressive, propagandist body, homogeneous, and
pursuing an accurate policy in entire concert. They were willing to take
any amount of pains to manipulate and control the election of delegates
and the formal action of conventions, and in all cases except that of
Texas the question was conclusively passed upon by conventions. By every
means they "fired the Southern heart," which was notoriously
combustible; they stirred up a great tumult of sentiment; they made
thunderous speeches; they kept distinguished emissaries moving to and
fro; they celebrated each success with an uproar of cannonading, with
bonfires, illuminations, and processions; they appealed to those
chivalrous virtues supposed to be peculiar to Southerners; they preached
devotion to the State, love of the state flag, generous loyalty to
sister slave-communities; sometimes they used insult, abuse, and
intimidation; occasionally they argued seductively. Thus Mr. Cobb's
assertion, that "we can make better terms out of the Union than in it,"
was, in the opinion of Alexander H. Stephens, the chief influence which
carried Georgia out of the Union. In the main, however, it was the
principle of state sovereignty and state patriotism which proved the one
entirely trustworthy influence to bring over the reluctant. "I abhor
disunion, but I go with my State," was the common saying; and the States
were under skillful and resolute leadership. So, though the popular
discontent was far short of the revolutionary point, yet individuals,
one after another, yielded to that sympathetic, emotional instinct which
tempts each man to fall in with the big procession. In this way it was
that during the Buchanan interregnum the people of the Gulf States
became genuinely fused in rebellion.
It is not correct to say that the election of Lincoln was the cause of
the Rebellion; it was rather the signal. To the Southern leaders, it was
the striking of the appointed hour. His defeat would have meant only
postponement. South Carolina led the way. On December 17, 1860, her
convention came together, the Palmetto flag waving over its chamber of
conference, and on December 20 it issued its "Ordinance."[115] This
declared that the Ordinance of May 23, 1788, ratifying the Constitution,
is "hereby repealed," and the "Union now subsisting between South
Carolina and other States, under the name of the United States of
America, is hereby dissolved." A Declaration of Causes said that South
Carolina had "resumed her position among the nations of the world as a
separate and independent State." The language used was appropriate for
the revocation of a power of attorney. The people hailed this action
with noisy joy, unaccompanied by any regret or solemnity at the
severance of the old relationship. The newspapers at once began to
publish "Foreign News" from the other States. The new governor, Pickens,
a fiery Secessionist, and described as one "born insensible to
fear,"--presumably the condition of most persons at that early period of
existence,--had already suggested to Mr. Buchanan the impropriety of
reinforcing the national garrisons in the forts in Charleston harbor. He
now accredited to the President three commissioners to treat with him
for the delivery of the "forts, magazines, lighthouses, and other real
estate, with their appurtenances, in the limits of South Carolina; and
also for an apportionment of the public debt, and for a division of all
other property held by the government of the United States as agent of
the Confederate States of which South Carolina was recently a member."
This position, as of the dissolution of a copartnership, or the
revocation of an agency, and an accounting of debts and assets, was at
least simple; and by way of expediting it an appraisal of the "real
estate" and "appurtenances" within the state limits had been made by the
state government. Meanwhile there was in the harbor of Charleston a sort
of armed truce, which might at any moment break into war. Major Anderson
in Fort Moultrie, and the state commander in the city, watched each
other like two suspicious animals, neither sure when the other will
spring. In short, in all the overt acts, the demeanor and the language
of this excitable State, there was such insolence, besides hostility,
that her emissaries must have been surprised at the urbane courtesy with
which they were received, even by a President of Mr. Buchanan's views.
After the secession of South Carolina the other Gulf States hesitated
briefly. Mississippi followed first; her convention assembled January 7,
1861, and on January 9 passed the ordinance, 84 yeas to 15 nays,
subsequently making the vote unanimous. The Florida convention met
January 3, and on January 10 decreed the State to be "a sovereign and
independent nation," 62 yeas to 7 nays. The Alabama convention passed
its ordinance on January 11 by 61 yeas to 39 nays; the President
announced that the idea of reconstruction must be forever "dismissed."
Yet the northern part of the State appeared to be substantially
anti-secession. In Georgia the Secessionists doubted whether they could
control a convention, yet felt obliged to call one. Toombs, Cobb, and
Iverson labored with tireless zeal throughout the State; but in spite of
all their proselyting, Unionist feeling ran high and debate was hot. The
members from the southern part of the State ventured to menace and
dragoon those from the northern part, who were largely Unionists. The
latter retorted angrily; a schism and personal collisions were narrowly
avoided. Alexander H. Stephens spoke for the Union with a warmth and
logic not surpassed by anything that was said at the North. He and
Herschel V. Johnson both voted against secession; yet, on January 18,
when the vote was taken, it showed 208 yeas against 89 nays. On January
26 Louisiana followed, the vote of the convention being 113 yeas to 17
nays; but it refused to submit the ordinance to the people for
ratification. The action of Texas, the only other State which seceded
prior to the inauguration of Lincoln, was delayed until February 1.
There Governor Houston was opposing secession with such vigor as
remained to a broken old man, whereby he provoked Senator Iverson to
utter the threat of assassination: "Some Texan Brutus may arise to rid
his country of this old hoary-headed traitor." But in the convention,
when it came to voting, the yeas were 166, the nays only 7.
By the light that was in him Mr. Buchanan was a Unionist, but it was a
sadly false and flickering light, and beneath its feeble illumination
his steps staggered woefully. For two months he diverged little from the
path which the Secessionist leaders would have marked out for him, had
they controlled his movements. At the time of the election his cabinet
was:--
Lewis Cass of Michigan, secretary of state.
Howell Cobb of Georgia, secretary of the treasury.
John B. Floyd of Virginia, secretary of war.
Isaac Toucey of Connecticut, secretary of the navy.
Jacob Thompson of Mississippi, secretary of the interior.
Aaron V. Brown of Tennessee, postmaster-general.
Jeremiah S. Black of Pennsylvania, attorney-general.
Of these men Cobb, Floyd, and Thompson were extreme Secessionists. Many
felt that Cobb should have been made President of the Southern
Confederacy instead of Davis. In December Thompson went as commissioner
from Mississippi to North Carolina to persuade that State to secede, and
did not resign his place in the cabinet because, as he said, Mr.
Buchanan approved his mission.
Betwixt his own predilections and the influence of these advisers Mr.
Buchanan composed for the Thirty-sixth Congress a message which carried
consternation among all Unionists. It was of little consequence that he
declared the present situation to be the "natural effect" of the
"long-continued and intemperate interference" of the Northern people
with slavery. But it was of the most serious consequence that, while he
condemned secession as unconstitutional, he also declared himself
powerless to prevent it. His duty "to take care that the laws be
faithfully executed" he knew no other way to perform except by aiding
federal officers in the performance of their duties. But where, as in
South Carolina, the federal officers had all resigned, so that none
remained to be aided, what was he to do? This was practically to take
the position that half a dozen men, by resigning their offices, could
make the preservation of the Union by its chief executive
impossible![116] Besides this, Mr. Buchanan said that he had "no
authority to decide what should be the relations between the Federal
government and South Carolina." He afterward said that he desired to
avoid a collision of arms "between this and any other government." He
did not seem to reflect that he had no right to recognize a State of the
Union as being an "other government," in the sense in which he used the
phrase, and that, by his very abstention from the measures necessary for
maintaining unchanged that relationship which had hitherto existed, he
became a party to the establishment of a new relationship, and that,
too, of a character which he himself alleged-to be unconstitutional. In
truth, his chief purpose was to rid himself of any responsibility and to
lay it all upon Congress. Yet he was willing to advise Congress as to
its powers and duties in the business which he shirked in favor of that
body, saying that the power to coerce a seceding State had not been
delegated to it, and adding the warning that "the Union can never be
cemented by the blood of its citizens shed in civil war." So the nation
learned that its ruler was of opinion that to resist the destruction of
its nationality was both unlawful and inexpedient.
If the conclusions of the message aroused alarm and indignation, its
logic excited ridicule. Senator Hale gave a not unfair synopsis: The
President, he said, declares: 1. That South Carolina has just cause for
seceding. 2. That she has no right to secede. 3. That we have no right
to prevent her from seceding; and that the power of the government is "a
power to do nothing at all." Another wit said that Buchanan was willing
to give up a _part_ of the Constitution, and, if necessary, the _whole_,
in order to preserve the _remainder_! But while this message of Mr.
Buchanan has been bitterly denounced, and with entire justice, from the
hour of its transmission to the present day, yet a palliating
consideration ought to be noted: he had little reason to believe that,
if he asserted the right and duty of forcible coercion, he would find at
his back the indispensable force, moral and physical, of the people.
Demoralization at the North was widespread. After the lapse of a few
months this condition passed, and then those who had been beneath its
influence desired to forget the humiliating fact, and hoped that others
might either forget or never know the measure of their weakness. In
order that they might save their good names, it was natural that they
should seek to suppress all evidence which had not already found its way
upon the public record; but enough remains to show how grievously for a
while the knees were weakened under many who enjoy--and rightfully, by
reason of the rest of their lives--the reputation of stalwart patriots.
For example, late in October, General Scott suggested to the President
a division of the country into four separate confederacies, roughly
outlining their boundaries. Scott was a dull man, but he was the head of
the army and enjoyed a certain prestige, so that it was impossible to
say that his notions, however foolish in themselves, were of no
consequence. But if the blunders of General Scott could not fatally
wound the Union cause, the blunders of Horace Greeley might conceivably
do so. If there had been in the Northern States any newspaper--apart
from Mr. Garrison's "Liberator"--which was thoroughly committed to the
anti-slavery cause, it was the New York "Tribune," under the guidance of
that distinguished editor. Republicans everywhere throughout the land
had been educated by his teachings, and had become accustomed to take a
large part of their knowledge and their opinions in matters political
from his writings. It was a misfortune for Abraham Lincoln, which cannot
be overrated, that from the moment of his nomination to the day of his
death the "Tribune" was largely engaged in criticising his measures and
in condemning his policy.
No sooner did all that, which Mr. Greeley had been striving during many
years to bring about, seem to be on the point of consummation, than the
demoralized and panic-stricken reformer became desirous to undo his own
achievements, and to use for the purpose of effecting a sudden
retrogression all the influence which he had gained by bold leadership.
November 9, 1860, it was appalling to read in the editorial columns of
his sheet, that "if the Cotton States shall decide that they can do
better out of the Union than in it, we insist on letting them go in
peace;" that, while the "Tribune" denied the right of nullification, yet
it would admit that "to withdraw from the Union is quite another
matter;" that "whenever a considerable section of our Union shall
deliberately resolve to go out, we shall resist all coercive measures
designed to keep it in."[117] At the end of another month the
"Tribune's" famous editor was still in the same frame of mind, declaring
himself "averse to the employment of military force to fasten one
section of our confederacy to the other," and saying that, "if eight
States, having five millions of people, choose to separate from us, they
cannot be permanently withheld from so doing by federal cannon." On
December 17 he even said that the South had as good a right to secede
from the Union as the colonies had to secede from Great Britain, and
that he "would not stand up for coercion, for subjugation," because he
did not "think it would be just." On February 23, 1861, he said that if
the Cotton States, or the Gulf States, "choose to form an independent
nation, they have a clear moral right to do so," and if the "great body
of the Southern people" become alienated from the Union and wish to
"escape from it, we will do our best to forward their views." A volume
could be filled with the like writing of his prolific pen at this time,
and every sentence of such purport was the casting of a new stone to
create an almost impassable obstruction in the path along which the new
President must soon endeavor to move. Thurlow Weed, editor of the Albany
"Evening Journal," and the confidential adviser of Seward, wrote in
favor of concessions; he declared that "a victorious party can afford to
be tolerant;" and he advocated a convention to revise the Constitution,
on the ground that, "after more than seventy years of wear and tear, of
collision and abrasion, it should be no cause of wonder that the
machinery of government is found weakened, or out of repair, or even
defective." Frequently he uttered the wish, vague and of fine sound, but
enervating, that the Republicans might "meet secession as patriots and
not as partisans." On November 9 the Democratic New York "Herald,"
discussing the election of Lincoln, said: "For far less than this our
fathers seceded from Great Britain;" it also declared coercion to be
"out of the question," and laid down the principle that each State
possesses "the right to break the tie of the confederacy, as a nation
might break a treaty, and to repel coercion as a nation might repel
invasion."
Local elections in New York and Massachusetts "showed a striking and
general reduction of Republican strength." In December the mayor of
Philadelphia, though that city had polled a heavy Republican majority,
told a mass meeting in Independence Square that denunciations of slavery
were inconsistent with national brotherhood, and "must be frowned down
by a just and law-abiding people." The Bell and Everett men, generally,
desired peace at any price. The business men of the North, alarmed at
the prospect of disorder, became loudly solicitous for concession,
compromise, even surrender.[118] In Democratic meetings a threatening
tone was adopted. One proposal was to reconstruct the Union, leaving out
the New England States. So late even as January 21, 1861, before an
immense and noteworthy gathering in New York, an orator ventured to say:
"If a revolution of force is to begin, it shall be inaugurated at home;"
and the words were cheered. The distinguished Chancellor Walworth said
that it would be "as brutal to send men to butcher our own brothers of
the Southern States as it would be to massacre them in the Northern
States." When DeWitt Clinton's son, George, spoke of secession as
"rebellion," the multitude hailed the word with cries of dissent. Even
at Faneuil Hall, in Boston, "a very large and respectable meeting" was
emphatically in favor of compromise. It was impossible to measure
accurately the extent and force of all this demoralization; but the
symptoms were that vast numbers were infected with such sentiments, and
that they would have been worse than useless as backers of a vigorous
policy on the part of the government.
With the North wavering and ready to retreat, and the South aggressive
and confident, it was exacting to expect Mr. Buchanan to stand up for a
fight. Why should he, with his old-time Democratic principles, now by a
firm, defiant attitude precipitate a crisis, possibly a civil war, when
Horace Greeley and Wendell Phillips were conspicuously running away from
the consequences of their own teachings, and were loudly crying "Peace!
peace!" after they themselves had long been doing all in their power to
bring the North up to the fighting point? When these leaders faced to
the rear, it was hard to say who could be counted upon to fill the front
rank. In truth, it was a situation which might have discouraged a more
combative patriot than Buchanan. Meanwhile, while the Northerners talked
chiefly of yielding, the hot and florid rhetoric of the Southern
orators, often laden with contemptuous insult, smote with disturbing
menace upon the ears even of the most courageous Unionists. It was said
at the South and feared at the North that secession had a "Spartan band
in every Northern State," and that blood would flow in Northern cities
at least as soon and as freely as on the Southern plantations, if
forcible coercion should be attempted. Was it possible to be sure that
this was all rodomontade? To many good citizens there seemed some reason
to think that the best hope for avoiding the fulfillment at the North of
these sanguinary threats might lie in the probability that the
anti-slavery agitators would not stand up to encounter a genuinely
mortal peril.
When the Star of the West retired, a little ignominiously, from her task
of reinforcing Fort Sumter, Senator Wigfall jeered insolently. "Your
flag has been insulted," he said; "redress it if you dare! You have
submitted to it for two months, and you will submit forever.... We have
dissolved the Union; mend it if you can; cement it with blood; try the
experiment!" Mr. Chestnut of South Carolina wished to "unfurl the
Palmetto flag, fling it to the breeze ... and ring the clarion notes of
defiance in the ears of an insolent foe." Such bombastic but confident
language, of which a great quantity was uttered in this winter of
1860-61, may exasperate or intimidate according to the present temper of
the opponent whose ear it assaults; for a while the North was more in
condition to be awestruck than to be angered. Her spokesmen failed to
answer back, and left her to listen not without anxiety to fierce
predictions that Southern flags would soon be floating over the dome of
the Capitol and even over Faneuil Hall, if she should be so imprudent as
to test Southern valor and Southern resources.
Matters looked even worse for the Union cause in Congress than in the
country. Occasionally some irritated Northern Republican shot out words
of spirit; but the prevalent desire was for conciliation, compromise,
and concession, while some actually adopted secession doctrines. For
example, Daniel E. Sickles, in the House, threatened that the secession
of the Southern States should be followed by that of New York city; and
in fact the scheme had been recommended by the Democratic mayor,
Fernando Wood, in a message to the Common Council of the city on January
6; and General Dix conceived it to be a possibility. In the Senate Simon
Cameron declared himself desirous to preserve the Union "by any
sacrifice of feeling, and I may say of principle." A sacrifice of
political principle by Cameron was not, perhaps, a serious matter; but
he intended the phrase to be emphatic, and he was a leading Republican
politician, had been a candidate for the presidential nomination, and
was dictator in Pennsylvania. Even Seward, in the better days of the
middle of January, felt that he could "afford to meet prejudice with
conciliation, exaction with concession which surrenders no principle,
and violence with the right hand of peace;" and he was "willing, after
the excitement of rebellion and secession should have passed away, to
call a convention for amending the Constitution."
This message of Buchanan marked the lowest point to which the
temperature of his patriotism fell. Soon afterward, stimulated by heat
applied from outside, it began to rise. The first intimation which
impressed upon his anxious mind that he was being too acquiescent
towards the South came from General Cass. That steadfast Democrat, of
the old Jacksonian school, like many of his party at the North, was
fully as good a patriot and Union man as most of the Republicans were
approving themselves to be during these winter months of vacillation,
alarm, and compromise. In November he was strenuously in favor of
forcibly coercing a seceding State, but later assented to the tenor of
Mr. Buchanan's message. The frame of mind which induced this assent,
however, was transitory; for immediately he began to insist upon the
reinforcement of the garrisons of the Southern forts, and on December 13
he resigned because the President refused to accede to his views. A few
days earlier Howell Cobb had had the grace to resign from the Treasury,
which he left entirely empty. In the reorganization Philip F. Thomas of
Maryland, a Secessionist also, succeeded Cobb; Judge Black was moved
into the State Department; and Edwin M. Stanton of Pennsylvania followed
Black as attorney-general. Mr. Floyd, than whom no Secessionist has left
a name in worse odor at the North, had at first advised against any
"rash movement" in the way of secession, on the ground that Mr.
Lincoln's administration would "fail, and be regarded as impotent for
good or evil, within four months after his inauguration." None the less
he had long been using his official position in the War Department to
send arms into the Southern States, and to make all possible
arrangements for putting them in an advantageous position for
hostilities. Fortunately about this time the famous defalcation in the
Indian Department, in which he was guiltily involved, destroyed his
credit with the President, and at the same time he quarreled with his
associates concerning Anderson's removal to Fort Sumter. On December 29
he resigned, and the duties of his place were laid for a while upon
Judge Holt, the postmaster-general.
On Sunday morning, December 30, there was what has been properly called
a cabinet crisis. The South Carolina commissioners, just arrived in
Washington, were demanding recognition, and to treat with the government
as if they were representatives of a foreign power. The President
declined to receive them in a diplomatic character, but offered to act
as go-between betwixt them and Congress. The President's advisers,
however, were in a far less amiable frame of mind, for their blood had
been stirred wholesomely by the secession of South Carolina and the
presence of these emissaries with their insolent demands. Mr. Black, now
at the head of the State Department, had gone through much the same
phases of feeling as General Cass. In November he had been "emphatic in
his advocacy of coercion," but afterward had approved the President's
message and even declared forcible coercion to be "_ipso facto_ an
expulsion" of the State from the Union; since then he had drifted back
and made fast at his earlier moorings. On this important Sunday morning
Mr. Buchanan learned with dismay that either his reply to the South
Carolinians must be substantially modified, or Mr. Black and Mr. Stanton
would retire from the cabinet. Under this pressure he yielded. Mr. Black
drafted a new reply to the commissioners, Mr. Stanton copied it, Holt
concurred in it, and, in substance, Mr. Buchanan accepted it. This
affair constituted, as Messrs. Nicolay and Hay well say, "the
President's virtual abdication," and thereafterward began the "cabinet
régime." Upon the commissioners this chill gust from the North struck so
disagreeably that, on January 2, they hastened home to their
"independent nation." From this time forth the South covered Mr.
Buchanan with contumely and abuse; Mr. Benjamin called him "a senile
executive, under the sinister influence of insane counsels;" and the
poor old man, really wishing to do right, but stripped of friends and of
his familiar advisers, and confounded by the views of new counselors,
presented a spectacle for pity.
On January 8 Mr. Thompson, secretary of the interior, resigned, and the
vacancy was left unfilled. A more important change took place on the
following day, when Mr. Thomas left the Treasury Department, and the New
York bankers, whose aid was essential, forced the President, sorely
against his will, to give the place to General John A. Dix. This proved
an excellent appointment. General Dix was an old Democrat, but of the
high-spirited type; he could have tolerated secession by peaceable
agreement, but rose in anger at menaces against the flag and the Union.
He conducted his department with entire success, and also rendered to
the country perhaps the greatest service that was done by any man during
that winter. On January 29 he sent the telegram which closed with the
famous words: "If any one attempts to haul down the American flag, shoot
him on the spot."[119] This rung out as the first cheering, stimulating
indication of a fighting temper at the North. It was a tonic which came
at a time of sore need, and for too long a while it remained the
solitary dose!
So much of the President's message as concerned the condition of the
country was referred in the House to a Committee of Thirty-three,
composed by appointing one member from each State. Other resolutions and
motions upon the same subject, to the number of twenty-five, were also
sent to this committee. It had many sessions from December 11 to January
14, but never made an approach to evolving anything distantly
approaching agreement. When, on January 14, the report came, it was an
absurd fiasco: it contained six propositions, of which each had the
assent of a majority of a quorum; but seven minority reports, bearing
together the signatures of fourteen members, were also submitted; and
the members of the seceding States refused to act. The only actual fruit
was a proposed amendment to the Constitution: "That no amendment shall
be made to the Constitution which will authorize or give to Congress the
power to abolish or interfere, within any State, with the domestic
institutions thereof, including that of persons held to labor or service
by the laws of said State." In the expiring hours of the Thirty-sixth
Congress this was passed by the House, and then by the Senate, and was
signed by the President. Lincoln, in his inaugural address, said of it:
"Holding such a provision to be now constitutional law, I have no
objection to its being made express and irrevocable." This view of it
was correct; it had no real significance, and the ill-written sentence
never disfigured the Constitution; it simply sank out of sight,
forgotten by every one.
Collaterally with the sitting of this House committee, a Committee of
Thirteen was appointed in the Senate. To these gentlemen also "a string
of Union-saving devices" was presented, but on the last day of the year
they reported that they had "not been able to agree upon any general
plan of adjustment."
The earnest effort of the venerable Crittenden to Affect a compromise
aroused a faint hope. But he offered little else than an extension
westward of the Missouri Compromise line; and he never really had the
slightest chance of effecting that consummation, which in fact _could
not be_ effected. His plan was finally defeated on the last evening of
the session.
Collaterally with these congressional debates there were also proceeding
in Washington the sessions of the Peace Congress, another futile effort
to concoct a cure for an incurable condition. It met on February 4,
1861, but only twenty-one States out of thirty-four were represented.
The seven States which had seceded said that they could not come, being
"Foreign Nations." Six other States[120] held aloof. Those Northern
States which sent delegates selected "their most conservative and
compromising men," and so great a tendency towards concession was shown
that Unionists soon condemned the scheme as merely a deceitful cover
devised by the Southerners behind which they could the more securely
carry on their processes of secession. These gentlemen talked a great
deal and finally presented a report or plan to Congress five days before
the end of the session; the House refused to receive it, the Senate
rejected it by 7 ayes to 28 nays. The only usefulness of the gathering
was as evidence of the unwillingness of the South to compromise. In fact
the Southern leaders were entirely frank and outspoken in acknowledging
their position; they had said, from the beginning, that they did not
wish the Committee of Thirty-three to accomplish anything; and they had
endeavored to dissuade Southerners from accepting positions upon it.
Hawkins of Florida said that "the time of compromise had passed
forever." South Carolina refused to share in the Peace Congress, because
she did "not deem it advisable to initiate negotiations when she had no
desire or intention to promote the object in view." Governor Peters of
Mississippi, in poetic language, suggested another difficulty: "When
sparks cease to fly upwards," he said, "Comanches respect treaties, and
wolves kill sheep no more, the oath of a Black Republican might be of
some value as a protection to slave property." Jefferson Davis
contemptuously stigmatized all the schemes of compromise as "quack
nostrums," and he sneered justly enough at those who spun fine arguments
of legal texture, and consumed time "discussing abstract questions,
reading patchwork from the opinions of men now mingled with the dust."
It is not known by what logic gentlemen who held these views defended
their conduct in retaining their positions in the government of the
nation for the purpose of destroying it. Senator Yulee of Florida
shamelessly gave his motive for staying in the Senate: "It is thought we
can keep the hands of Mr. Buchanan tied and disable the Republicans from
effecting any legislation which will strengthen the hands of the
incoming administration." Mr. Toombs of Georgia, speaking and voting at
his desk in the Senate, declared himself "as good a rebel and as good a
traitor as ever descended from Revolutionary loins," and said that the
Union was already dissolved,--by which assertion he made his position in
the Senate absolutely indefensible. The South Carolina senators resigned
before their State ordained itself a "foreign nation," and incurred
censure for being so "precipitate." In a word, the general desire was to
remain in office, hampering and obstructing the government, until March
4, 1861, and at a caucus of disunionists it was agreed to do so. But the
pace became too rapid, and resignations followed pretty close upon the
formal acts of secession.
On the same day on which the Peace Congress opened its sessions in
Washington, there came together at Montgomery, in Alabama, delegates
from six States for the purpose of forming a Southern Confederacy. On
the third day thereafter a plan for a provisional government,
substantially identical with the Constitution of the United States, was
adopted. On February 9 the oath of allegiance was taken, and Jefferson
Davis and Alexander H. Stephens were elected respectively President and
Vice-President. On February 13 the military and naval committees were
directed to report plans for organizing an army and navy. Mr. Davis
promptly journeyed to Montgomery, making on the way many speeches, in
which he told his hearers that no plan for a reconstruction of the old
Union would be entertained; and promised that those who should interfere
with the new nation would have to "smell Southern powder and to feel
Southern steel." On February 18 he was inaugurated, and in his address
again referred to the "arbitrament of the sword." Immediately afterward
he announced his cabinet as follows:--
Robert Toombs of Georgia, secretary of state.
C.G. Memminger of South Carolina, secretary of the treasury.
L.P. Walker of Alabama, secretary of war.
S.R. Mallory of Florida, secretary of the navy.
J.H. Reagan of Texas, postmaster-general.
Judah P. Benjamin of Louisiana, attorney-general.
On March 11 the permanent Constitution was adopted.[121] Thus the
machine of the new government was set in working order. Mr. Greeley
gives some interesting figures showing the comparative numerical
strength of the sections of the country at this time:[122]--
The free population of the seven States which
had seceded, was 2,656,948
The free population of the eight slave States[123]
which had not seceded, was 5,633,005
Total 8,289,953
The slaves in the States of the first list were 2,312,046
The slaves in the States of the second list were 1,638,297
Total of slaves 3,950,343
The population of the whole Union by the
census of 1860, was 31,443,321
[Illustration: Alexander H. Stephens]
The disproportion would have discouraged the fathers of the new
nation, if they had anticipated that the North would be resolute in
using its overwhelming resources. But how could they believe that this
would be the case when they read the New York "Tribune" and the reports
of Mr. Phillips's harangues?
* * * * *
On February 13 the electoral vote was to be counted in Congress. Rumors
were abroad that the Secessionists intended to interfere with this by
tumults and violence; but the evidence is insufficient to prove that any
such scheme was definitely matured; it was talked of, but ultimately it
seems to have been laid aside with a view to action at a later date.
Naturally enough, however, the country was disquieted. In the emergency
the action of General Scott was watched with deep anxiety. A Southerner
by birth and by social sympathies, he had been expected by the
Secessionists to join their movement. But the old soldier--though broken
by age and infirmities, and though he had proposed the folly of
voluntarily quartering the country, like the corpse of a traitor--had
his patriotism and his temper at once aroused when violence was
threatened. On and after October 29 he had repeatedly advised
reinforcement of the Southern garrisons; though it must be admitted, in
Buchanan's behalf, that the general made no suggestion as to how or
where the troops could be obtained for this purpose. In the same spirit
he now said, with stern resolution, that there should be ample military
preparations to insure both the count and the inauguration; and he told
some of the Southerners that he would blow traitors to pieces at the
cannon's mouth without hesitation. Disturbed at his vehemence, they
denounced him bitterly, and sent him frequent notices of assassination.
Floyd distributed orders concerning troops and munitions directly from
the War Department, and carefully concealed them from the general who
was the head of the army. But secrecy and intimidation were in vain. The
aged warrior was fiercely in earnest; if there was going to be any
outbreak in Washington he was going to put it down with bullets and
bayonets, and he gathered his soldiers and instructed his officers
accordingly. But happily the preparation of these things was sufficient
to render the use of them unnecessary. When the day came Vice-President
Breckenridge performed his duty, however unwelcome, without flinching.
He presided over the joint session and conducted the count with the air
of a man determined to enforce law and order, and at the close declared
the election of Abraham Lincoln and Hannibal Hamlin.
Still only the smaller crisis had been passed. Much more alarming
stories now flew from mouth to mouth,--of plots to seize the capital and
to prevent the inauguration, even to assassinate Lincoln on his journey
to Washington. How much foundation there was for these is not accurately
known. That the idea of capturing Washington had fascinated the
Southern fancy is certain. "I see no reason," said Senator Iverson, "why
Washington city should not be continued the capital of the Southern
Confederacy." The Richmond "Examiner" railed grossly: "That filthy cage
of unclean birds must and will assuredly be purified by fire.... Our
people can take it,--they will take it.... Scott, the arch-traitor, and
Lincoln, the beast, combined, cannot prevent it. The 'Illinois Ape' must
retrace his journey more rapidly than he came." The abundant talk of
this sort created uneasiness; and Judge Holt said that there was cause
for alarm. But a committee of Congress reported that, though it was
difficult to speak positively, yet they found no evidence sufficient to
prove "the existence of a secret organization." Alexander H. Stephens
has denied that there was any intention to attack the city, and probably
the notion of seizure did not pass beyond the stage of talk.
But the alleged plot to assassinate Mr. Lincoln was more definite. He
had been spending the winter quietly in Springfield, where he had been
overrun by visitors, who wished to look at him, to advise him, and to
secure promises of office; fortunately the tedious procession had lost
part of its offensiveness by touching his sense of humor. Anxious people
made well-meaning but useless efforts to induce him to say something for
effect upon the popular mind; but he resolutely and wisely maintained
silence. His position and opinions, he said, had already been declared
in his speeches with all the clearness he could give to them, and the
people had appeared to understand and approve them. He could not improve
and did not desire to change these utterances. Occasionally he privately
expressed his dislike to the conceding and compromising temper which
threatened to undo, for an indefinite future, all which the long and
weary struggle of anti-slavery men had accomplished. In this line he
wrote a letter of protest to Greeley, which inspired that gentleman to a
singular expression of sympathy; let the Union go to pieces, exclaimed
the emotional editor, let presidents be assassinated, let the Republican
party suffer crushing defeat, but let there not be "another nasty
compromise." To Mr. Kellogg, the Illinoisian on the House Committee of
Thirty-three, Lincoln wrote: "Entertain no proposition for a compromise
in regard to the extension of slavery. The instant you do, they have us
under again; all our labor is lost, and sooner or later must be done
over again." He repeated almost the same words to E.B. Washburne, a
member of the House. Duff Green tried hard to get something out of him
for the comfort of Mr. Buchanan, but failed to extort more than
commonplace generalities. To Seward he wrote that he did not wish to
interfere with the present status, or to meddle with slavery as it now
lawfully existed. To like purport he wrote to Alexander H. Stephens,
induced thereto by the famous Union speech of that gentleman. He
eschewed hostile feeling, saying: "I never have been, am not now, and
probably never shall be, in a mood of harassing the people, either North
or South." Nevertheless, while he said that all were "brothers of a
common country," he was perfectly resolved that the country should
remain "common," even if the bond of brotherhood had to be riveted by
force. He admitted that this necessity would be "an ugly point;" but he
was perfectly clear that "the right of a State to secede is not an open
or debatable question." He desired that General Scott should be prepared
either to "hold or retake" the Southern forts, if need should be, at or
after the inauguration; but on his journey to Washington he said to many
audiences that he wished no war and no bloodshed, and that these evils
could be avoided if people would only "keep cool" and "keep their
temper, on both sides of the line."
On Monday, February 11, 1861, Mr. Lincoln spoke to his fellow citizens
of Springfield a very brief farewell, so solemn as to sound ominous in
the ears of those who know what afterward occurred. It was arranged that
he should stop at various points upon the somewhat circuitous route
which had been laid out, and that he should arrive in Washington on
Saturday, February 23. The programme, was pursued accurately till near
the close; he made, of course, many speeches, but none added anything to
what was already known as to his views.
Meantime the thick rumors of violence were bringing much uneasiness to
persons who were under responsibilities. Baltimore was the place where,
and its villainous "Plug Uglies" were the persons by whom, the plot, if
there was one, was to be executed. Mr. Felton, president of the
Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore Railroad Company, engaged Allan
Pinkerton to explore the matter, and the report of this skillful
detective indicated a probability of an attack with the purpose of
assassination. At that time the cars were drawn by horses across town
from the northern to the southern station, and during the passage an
assault could be made with ease and with great chance of success. As yet
there was no indication that the authorities intended to make, even if
they could make,[124] any adequate arrangements for the protection of
the traveler. At Philadelphia Mr. Lincoln was told of the fears of his
friends, and talked with Mr. Pinkerton, but he refused to change his
plan. On February 22 he was to assist at a flag-raising in Philadelphia,
and was then to go on to Harrisburg, and on the following day he was to
go from there to Baltimore. He declined to alter either route or hours.
But other persons besides Mr. Felton had been busy with independent
detective investigations, the result of which was in full accord with
the report of Mr. Pinkerton. On February 22 Mr. Frederick W. Seward,
sent by his father and General Scott, both then at Washington, delivered
to Mr. Lincoln, at Philadelphia, the message that there was "serious
danger" to his life if the time of his passage through Baltimore should
be known. Yet Lincoln still remained obdurate. He declared that if an
escorting delegation from Baltimore should meet him at Harrisburg, he
would go on with it. But at Harrisburg no such escort presented itself.
Then the few who knew the situation discussed further as to what should
be done, Norman B. Judd being chief spokesman for evading the danger by
a change of programme. Naturally the objection of seeming timid and of
exciting ridicule was present in the minds of all, and it was put
somewhat emphatically by Colonel Sumner. Mr. Lincoln at last settled the
dispute; he said: "I have thought over this matter considerably since I
went over the ground with Pinkerton last night. The appearance of Mr.
Frederick Seward, with warning from another source, confirms Mr.
Pinkerton's belief. Unless there are some other reasons besides fear of
ridicule, I am disposed to carry out Judd's plan."
This plan was accordingly carried out with the success which its
simplicity insured. Mr. Lincoln and his stalwart friend, Colonel Lamon,
slipped out of a side door to a hackney carriage, were driven to the
railway station, and returned by the train to Philadelphia. Their
departure was not noticed, but had it been, news of it could not have
been sent away, for Mr. Felton had had the telegraph wires secretly cut
outside the town. He also ordered, upon a plausible pretext, that the
southward-bound night train on his road should be held back until the
arrival of this train from Harrisburg. Mr. Lincoln and Colonel Lamon
passed from the one train to the other without recognition, and rolled
into Washington early on the following morning. Mr. Seward and Mr.
Washburne met Lincoln at the station and went with him to Willard's
Hotel. Soon afterward the country was astonished, and perhaps some
persons were discomfited, as the telegraph carried abroad the news of
his arrival.
Those who were disappointed at this safe conclusion of his journey, if
in fact there were any such, together with many who would have contemned
assassination, at once showered upon him sneers and ridicule. They said
that Lincoln had put on a disguise and had shown the white feather, when
there had been no real danger. But this was not just. Whether or not
there was the completed machinery of a definite, organized plot for
assault and assassination is uncertain; that is to say, this is not
_proved_; yet the evidence is so strong that the majority of
investigators seem to agree in the opinion that _probably_ there was a
plan thoroughly concerted and ready for execution. Even if there was
not, it was very likely that a riot might be suddenly started, which
would be as fatal in its consequences as a premeditated scheme. But,
after all, the question of the plot is one of mere curiosity and quite
aside from the true issue. That issue, so far as it presented itself for
determination by Mr. Lincoln, was simply whether a case of such
probability of danger was made out that as a prudent man he should
overrule the only real objection,--that of exciting ridicule,--and avoid
a peril which the best judges believed to exist, and which, if it did
exist, involved consequences of immeasurable seriousness not only to
himself but to the nation. For a wise man only one conclusion was
possible. The story of the disguise was a silly slander, based upon the
trifling fact that for this night journey Lincoln wore a traveling cap
instead of his hat.
Lincoln's own opinion as to the danger is not quite clear.[125] He said
to Mr. Lossing that, after hearing Mr. Seward, he believed "such a plot
to be in existence." But he also said: "I did not then, nor do I now,
believe I should have been assassinated, had I gone through Baltimore as
first contemplated; but I thought it wise to run no risk, where no risk
was necessary."
The reflection can hardly fail to occur, how grossly unfair it was that
Mr. Lincoln should be put into the position in which he was put at this
time, and then that fault should be found with him even if his prudence
was overstrained. Many millions of people in the country hated him with
a hatred unutterable; among them might well be many fanatics, to whom
assassination would seem a noble act, many desperadoes who would regard
it as a pleasing excitement; and he was to go through a city which men
of this stamp could at any time dominate. The custom of the country
compelled this man, whom it had long since selected as its ruler, to
make a journey of extreme danger without any species of protection
whatsoever. So far as peril went, no other individual in the United
States had ever, presumably, been in a peril like that which beset him;
so far as safeguards went, he had no more than any other traveler. A few
friends volunteered to make the journey with him, but they were useless
as guardians; and he and they were so hustled and jammed in the railway
stations that one of them actually had his arm broken. This
extraordinary spectacle may have indicated folly on the part of the
nation which permitted it, but certainly it did not involve the disgrace
of the individual who had no choice about it. The people put Mr. Lincoln
in a position in which he was subjected to the most appalling, as it is
the most vague, of all dangers, and then left him to take care of
himself as best he could. It was ungenerous afterward to criticise him
for exercising prudence in the performance of that duty which he ought
never to have been called upon to perform at all.[126]
Immediately after his arrival in Washington Mr. Lincoln received a
visit from the members of the Peace Congress. Grotesque and ridiculous
descriptions of him, as if he had been a Caliban in education, manners,
and aspect, had been rife among Southerners, and the story goes that the
Southern delegates expected to be at once amused and shocked by the
sight of a clodhopper whose conversation would be redolent of the
barnyard, not to say of the pigsty. Those of them who had any skill in
reading character were surprised,--as the tradition is,--discomfited,
even a little alarmed, at what in fact they beheld; for Mr. Lincoln
appeared before them a self-possessed man, expressing to them such clear
convictions and such a distinct and firm purpose as compelled them into
new notions of his capacity and told them of much trouble ahead. His
remark to Mr. Rives, coming from one who spoke accurately, had an
ominous sound in rebellious ears: "My course is as plain as a turnpike
road. It is marked out by the Constitution. I am in no doubt which way
to go." The wiser Southerners withdrew from this reception quite sober
and thoughtful, with some new ideas about the man with whom their
relationship seemed on the verge of becoming hostile. After abundant
allowance is made for the enthusiasm of Northern admirers, it remains
certain that Lincoln bore well this severe ordeal of criticism on the
part of those who would have been glad to despise him. Ungainly they saw
him, but not undignified, and the strange impressive sadness seldom
dwelt so strikingly upon his face as at this time, as though all the
weight of misery, which the millions of his fellow citizens were to
endure throughout the coming years, already burdened the soul of the
ruler who had been chosen to play the most responsible part in the
crisis and the anguish.
March 4, 1861, inauguration day, was fine and sunny. If there had ever
been any real danger of trouble, the fear of it had almost entirely
subsided. Northerners and Southerners had found out in good season that
General Scott was not in a temporizing mood; he had in the city two
batteries, a few companies of regulars,--653 men, exclusive of some
marines,--and the corps of picked Washington Volunteers. He said that
this force was all he wanted. President Buchanan left the White House
in an open carriage, escorted by a company of sappers and miners under
Captain Duane. At Willard's Hotel Mr. Lincoln entered the carriage, and
the two gentlemen passed along the avenue, through crowds which cheered
but made no disturbance, to the Capitol. General Scott with his regulars
marched, "flanking the movement, in parallel streets." His two
batteries, while not made unpleasantly conspicuous, yet controlled the
plateau which extends before the east front of the Capitol. Mr. Lincoln
was simply introduced by Senator Baker of Oregon, and delivered his
inaugural address. His voice had great carrying capacity, and the vast
crowd heard with ease a speech of which every sentence was fraught with
an importance and scrutinized with an anxiety far beyond that of any
other speech ever delivered in the United States. At its close the
venerable Chief Justice Taney administered the oath of office, thereby
informally but effectually reversing the most famous opinion delivered
by him during his long incumbency in his high office.
The inaugural address was simple, earnest, and direct, unincumbered by
that rhetorical ornamentation which the American people have always
admired as the highest form of eloquence. Those Northerners who had
expected magniloquent periods and exaggerated outbursts of patriotism
were disappointed; and as they listened in vain for the scream of the
eagle, many grumbled at the absence of what they conceived to be
_force_. Yet the general feeling was of satisfaction, which grew as the
address was more thoroughly studied. The Southerners, upon their part,
looking anxiously to see whether or not they must fight for their
purpose, construed the words of the new President correctly. They heard
him say: "The union of these States is perpetual." "No State upon its
own mere motion can lawfully get out of the Union." "I shall take care,
as the Constitution itself expressly enjoins upon me, that the laws of
the Union be faithfully executed in all the States." He also declared
his purpose "to hold, occupy, and possess the property and places
belonging to the government, and to collect the duties and imposts."
These sentences made up the issue directly with secession, and the
South, reading them, knew that, if the North was ready to back the
President, war was inevitable; none the less so because Mr. Lincoln
closed with patriotic and generous words: "We are not enemies, but
friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it
must not break our bonds of affection."
Until after the election of Mr. Lincoln in November, 1860, the sole
issue between the North and the South, between Republicans on the one
hand and Democrats and Compromisers on the other, had related to
slavery. Logically, the position of the Republicans was impregnable.
Their platforms and their leaders agreed that the party intended
strictly to respect the Constitution, and not to interfere at all with
slavery in the States within which it now lawfully existed. They said
with truth that they had in no case deprived the slaveholding
communities of their rights, and they denied the truth of the charge
that they cherished an inchoate design to interfere with those rights;
adding very truly that, at worst, a mere design, which did not find
expression in an overt act, could give no right of action to the South.
Mr. Lincoln had been most explicit in declaring that the opposition to
slavery was not to go beyond efforts to prevent its _extension_, which
efforts would be wholly within the Constitution and the law. He repeated
these things in his inaugural.
But while these incontrovertible allegations gave the Republicans a
logical advantage of which they properly made the most, the South
claimed a right to make other collateral and equally undeniable facts
the ground of action. The only public matter in connection with which
Mr. Lincoln had won any reputation was that of slavery. No one could
deny that he had been elected because the Republican party had been
pleased with his expression of opinion on this subject. Now his most
pointed and frequently reiterated expression of that opinion was that
slavery was a "moral, social, and political evil;" and this language was
a fair equivalent of the statement of the Republican platform of 1856,
classing Slavery and Mormonism together, as "twin relics of barbarism."
That the North was willing, or would long be willing, to remain in
amicable social and political bonds with a moral, social, and political
evil, and a relic of barbarism, was intrinsically improbable, and was
made more improbable by the symptoms of the times.[127] Indeed, Mr.
Seward had said, in famous words, that his section would not play this
unworthy part; he had proclaimed already the existence of an
"irrepressible conflict;" and therefore the South had the word of the
Republican leader that, in spite of the Republican respect for the law,
an anti-slavery crusade was already in existence. The Southern chiefs
distinctly recognized and accepted this situation.[128] There was an
avowed Northern condemnation of their institution; there was an
acknowledged "conflict." Such being the case, it was the opinion of the
chief men at the South that the position taken by the North, of strict
performance of clear constitutional duties concerning an odious
institution, would not suffice for the safe perpetuation of that
institution.[129] This, their judgment, appeared to be in a certain way
also the judgment of Mr. Lincoln; for he also conceived that to put
slavery where the "fathers" had left it was to put it "in the way of
ultimate extinction;" and he had, in the most famous utterance of his
life, given his forecast of the future to the effect that the country
would in time be "all free." The only logical deduction was that he, and
the Republican party which had agreed with him sufficiently to make him
president, believed that the South had no lawful recourse by which this
result, however unwelcome or ruinous, could in the long run and the
fullness of time be escaped. Under such circumstances Southern political
leaders now decided that the time for separation had come. In speaking
of their scheme they called it "secession," and said that secession was
a lawful act because the Constitution was a compact revocable by any of
the parties. They might have called it "revolution,"[130] and have
defended it upon the general right of any large body of people,
dissatisfied with the government under which they find themselves, to
cast it off. But, if the step was _revolution_, then the burden of proof
was upon them; whereas they said that _secession_ was their lawful
right, without any regard whatsoever to the motive which induced them to
exercise it.[131] Such was the character of the issue between the North
and the South prior to the first ordinance of secession. The action of
South Carolina, followed by the other Gulf States, at once changed that
issue, shifting it from pro-slavery versus anti-slavery to union versus
disunion. This alteration quickly compelled great numbers of men, both
at the North and at the South, to reconsider and, upon a new issue, to
place themselves also anew.
It has been said by all writers that in the seven seceding States there
was, in the four months following the election, a very large proportion
of "Union men." The name only signified that these men did not think
that the present inducements to disunion were sufficient to render it a
wise measure. It did not signify that they thought disunion unlawful,
unconstitutional, and treasonable. When, however, state conventions
decided the question of advisability against their opinions, and they
had to choose between allegiance to the State and allegiance to the
Union, they immediately adhered to the State, and this none the less
because they feared that she had taken an ill-advised step. That is to
say, at the South a "Union man" _wished_ to preserve the Union, whereas
at the North a "Union man" recognized a supreme _obligation_ to do so.
While the South, by political alchemy, was becoming solidified and
homogeneous, a corresponding change was going on at the North. In that
section the great numbers--of whom some would have re-made the
Constitution, others would have agreed to peaceable separation, and
still others would have made any concession to retain the integrity of
the Union--now saw that these were indeed, as Jefferson Davis had said,
"quack nostrums," and that the choice lay between permitting a secession
accompanied with insulting menaces and some degree of actual violence,
and maintaining the Union by coercion. In this dilemma great multitudes
of Northern Democrats, whose consciences had never been in the least
disturbed by the existence of slavery in the country or even by efforts
to extend it, became "Union men" in the Northern sense of the word,
which made it about equivalent to coercionists. Their simple creed was
the integrity and perpetuity of the nation.
Mr. Lincoln showed in his inaugural his accurate appreciation of the new
situation. Owing all that he had become in the world to a few
anti-slavery speeches, elevated to the presidency by votes which really
meant little else than hostility to slavery, what was more natural than
that he should at this moment revert to this great topic and make the
old dispute the main part and real substance of his address? But this
fatal error he avoided. With unerring judgment he dwelt little on that
momentous issue which had only just been displaced, and took his stand
fairly upon that still more momentous one which had so newly come up. He
spoke for the Union; upon that basis a united North _ought_ to support
him; upon that basis the more northern of the slave States might remain
loyal. As matter of fact, Union had suddenly become the real issue, but
it needed at the hands of the President to be publicly and explicitly
announced as such; this recognition was essential; he gave it on this
earliest opportunity, and the announcement was the first great service
of the new Republican ruler. It seems now as though he could hardly have
done otherwise, or have fallen into the error of allying himself with
bygone or false issues. It may be admitted that he could not have passed
this new one by; but the important matter was that of proportion and
relation, and in this it was easy to blunder. In truth it was a crisis
when blundering was so easy that nearly all the really able men of the
North had been doing it badly for three or four months past, and not a
few of them were going to continue it for two or three months to come.
Therefore the sound conception of the inaugural deserves to be
considered as an indication, one among many, of Lincoln's capacity for
seeing with entire distinctness the great main fact, and for recognizing
it as such. Other matters, which lay over and around such a fact, side
issues, questions of detail, affairs of disguise or deception, never
confused or misled him. He knew with unerring accuracy where the biggest
fact lay, and he always anchored fast to it and stayed with it. For many
years he had been anchored to anti-slavery; now, in the face of the
nation, he shifted his anchorage to the Union; and each time he held
securely.
FOOTNOTES:
[114] Breckenridge was the legitimate representative of the
administrationists, and his ticket received only 847,953 votes out of
4,680,193. Douglas and Buchanan were at open war.
[115] See remarks of Mr. Elaine upon use of this word. _Twenty Years of
Congress_, i. 219.
[116] But it should be said that Attorney-General Black supported these
views in a very elaborate opinion, which he had furnished to the
President, and which was transmitted to Congress at the same time with
the message.
[117] Greeley afterwards truly said that his journal had plenty of
company in these sentiments, even among the Republican sheets. _Amer.
Conflict_, i. 359. Reference is made in the text to the utterances of
the _Tribune_ more because it was so prominent and influential than
because it was very peculiar in its position.
[118] Wilson, _Rise and Fall of Slave Power_, iii. 63-69; N. and H. in.
255. See account of "the Pine Street meeting," New York, in Dix's
_Memoirs of Dix_, i. 347.
[119] For an account of this by General Dix himself, see _Memoirs of
John A. Dix_, by Morgan Dix, i. 370-373.
[120] Arkansas, California, Michigan, Minnesota, Oregon, and Wisconsin
[121] It differed from that of the United States very little, save in
containing a distinct recognition of slavery, and in being made by the
States instead of by the people.
[122] _American Conflict_, i. 351.
[123] This includes Delaware, 110,420, and Maryland, 599,846.
[124] Marshal Kane and most of the police were reported to be
Secessionists. Pinkerton, _Spy of the Rebellion_, 50, 61.
[125] Lamon says that Mr. Lincoln afterwards regretted this journey, and
became convinced "that he had committed a grave mistake." Lamon, 527. So
also McClure, 45, 48.
[126] For accounts of this journey and statements of the evidence of a
plot, see Schouler, _Hist. of Mass. in Civil War_, i. 59-65 (account by
Samuel M. Felton, Prest. P.W. & B.R.R. Co.); N. and H. iii. ch. 19 and
20; Chittenden, _Recoll. of Lincoln_, x.; Holland, 275; Arnold, 183-187;
Lamon, ch. xx. (this account ought to be, and doubtless is, the most
trustworthy); Herndon, 492 (a bit of gossip which sounds improbable);
Pinkerton, _Spy of the Rebellion_, 45-103. On the anti-plot side of the
question the most important evidence is the little volume, _Baltimore
and the Nineteenth of April_, 1861, by George William Brown. This
witness, whose strict veracity is beyond question, was mayor of the
city. One of his statements, especially, is of the greatest importance.
It is obvious that, if the plot existed, one of two things ought to
occur on the morning of February 23, viz.: either the plotters and the
mobsmen should know that Mr. Lincoln had escaped them, or else they
should be at the station at the hour set for his arrival. In fact they
were not at the station; there was no sudden assault on the cars, nor
other indication of assassins and a mob. Had they, then, received
knowledge of what had occurred? Those who sustain the plot-theory say
that the news had spread through the city, so that all the assassins and
the gangs of the "Plug Uglies" knew that their game was up. This was
_possible_, for Mr. Lincoln had arrived in the Washington station a few
minutes after six o'clock in the morning, and the train which was
expected to bring him to Baltimore did not arrive in Baltimore until
half after eleven o'clock. But, on the other hand, the news was not
dispatched from Washington immediately upon his arrival; somewhat later,
though still early in the morning, the detectives telegraphed to the
friends of Mr. Lincoln, but in cipher. Just at what time intelligible
telegrams, which would inform the public, were sent out cannot be
learned; but upon any arrangement of hours it is obvious that the time
was exceedingly short for distributing the news throughout the lower
quarters of Baltimore by word of mouth, and there is no pretense of any
publication. But while the believers in the plot say, nevertheless, that
this had been done and that the story of the journey had spread through
the city so that all the assassins and "Plug Uglies" knew it in time to
avoid assembling at the railway station about eleven o'clock, yet it
appears that Mr. Brown, the mayor, knew nothing about it. On the
contrary, he tells us that in anticipation of Mr. Lincoln's arrival he,
"as mayor of the city, accompanied by the police commissioners and
supported by a strong force of police, was at the Calvert Street station
on Saturday morning, February 23, at 11.30 o'clock ... ready to receive
with due respect the incoming President. An open carriage was in
waiting, in which I was to have the honor of escorting Mr. Lincoln
through the city to the Washington station, and of sharing in any danger
which he might encounter. It is hardly necessary to say that I
apprehended none." To the "great astonishment" of Mr. Brown, however,
the train brought only "Mrs. Lincoln and her three sons," and "it was
then announced that he had passed through the city _incognito_ in the
night train." This is a small bit of evidence to set against the
elaborate stories of the believers in the plot, yet to some it will seem
like the little obstruction which suffices to throw a whole railway
train from the track. I would rather let any reader, who is sufficiently
interested to examine the matter, reach his own conclusion, than
endeavor to furnish one for him; for I think that a dispute more
difficult of really conclusive settlement will not easily be found.
[127] Some of the Southern members of Congress collected and recited
sundry noteworthy utterances of Republicans concerning slavery, and
certainly there was little in them to induce a sense of security on the
part of slaveholders. Wilson, _Rise and Fall of Slave Power_, iii. 97,
154.
[128] Toombs declared, as Lincoln had said, that what was wanted was
that the North should _call slavery right_. Wilson, _Rise and Fall of
Slave Power_, iii. 76. Stephens declared the "corner-stone" of the new
government to be "the great truth that the negro is not equal to the
white man; that slavery ... is his natural and normal condition;" and
said that it was the first government "in the history of the world based
upon this great physical, philosophical, and moral truth." N. and H.
iii. 203; and see his letter to Lincoln, _ibid._ 272, 273. Mississippi,
in declaring the causes of her secession, said: "Our position is
thoroughly identical with the institution of slavery,--the greatest
material interest in the world." N. and H. iii. 201. Senator Mason of
Virginia said: "It is a war of sentiment, of opinion; a war of one form
of society against another form of society." Wilson, _Rise and Fall of
Slave Power_, iii. 26. Green of Missouri ascribed the trouble to the
"vitiated and corrupted state of public sentiment." _Ibid._ 23. Iverson
of Georgia said it was the "public sentiment" at the North, not the
"overt acts" of the Republican administration, that was feared; and said
that there was ineradicable enmity between the two sections, which had
not lived together in peace, were not so living now, and could not be
expected to do so in the future. _Ibid._ 17.
[129] Historians generally seem to admit that the South had to choose
between making the fight now, and seeing its favorite institution
gradually become extinct.
[130] Sometimes, though very rarely, the word was used.
[131] See Lincoln's message to Congress, July 4, 1861.