[Illustration: MR. LINCOLN ON HORSEBACK IN FRONT OF HIS RESIDENCE,
SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS, AT THE TIME OF HIS RETURN FROM THE CAMPAIGN WITH
SENATOR DOUGLAS. [_From an old Print._]]
HOW WE ELECTED
LINCOLN
PERSONAL
RECOLLECTIONS OF LINCOLN
AND MEN OF HIS TIME
BY
ABRAM J. DITTENHOEFER
A CAMPAIGNER FOR LINCOLN
IN 1860 AND A LINCOLN
ELECTOR IN 1864
[Illustration]
HARPER & BROTHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
BOOKS ABOUT LINCOLN
LINCOLN AND THE SLEEPING SENTINEL
By LUCIUS E. CHITTENDEN
RECOLLECTIONS OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN
AND HIS ADMINISTRATION
By LUCIUS E. CHITTENDEN
HOW WE ELECTED LINCOLN. By A. J. DITTENHOEFER
THE TOY SHOP. By MARGARITA SPALDING GERRY
ABRAHAM LINCOLN. By CHARLES C. COFFIN
REMINISCENCES OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
By ALLEN THORNDIKE RICE
LINCOLN’S OWN STORIES. By ANTHONY GROSS
HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK
HOW WE ELECTED LINCOLN
Copyright, 1916, by Harper & Brothers
Printed in the United States of America
Published September, 1916
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE MAN--LINCOLN 1
II. LINCOLN’S INTRODUCTION TO THE EAST 14
III. HOW LINCOLN WAS FIRST NOMINATED 20
IV. HOW LINCOLN WAS FIRST ELECTED 34
V. THE JOURNEY TO THE CAPITAL 41
VI. STORIES AND INCIDENTS 47
VII. FOUR YEARS OF STRESS AND STRAIN 55
VIII. THE RENOMINATION 71
IX. THE CAMPAIGN OF 1864 85
PREFACE
This book offers my personal recollections of the immortal Emancipator,
and of the memorable campaigns of 1860 and 1864, in which, as a young
man, I was actively engaged.
In looking back upon a life of fourscore years I find no prouder
memories than those of the years 1860-65. They illumined my being, and
my life became inspired through association with the immortal Abraham
Lincoln and the great men of the anti-slavery conflict.
I am unwilling to allow these reminiscences to go forth without giving
credit to my old friend Julius Chambers, for the valuable assistance he
rendered in compiling them.
[Illustration:
Abram J. Dittenhoefer]
HOW WE ELECTED
LINCOLN
I
THE MAN--LINCOLN
Circumstances brought to me personal knowledge of Mr. Lincoln for
nearly four years. I had frequent interviews with him, and so was able
to form a well-considered estimate of the great Emancipator’s character
and personality.
Born in Charleston, South Carolina, of Democratic pro-slavery parents,
I was brought in early youth to New York; and although imbued with the
sentiments and antipathies of my Southern environment, I soon became
known as a Southerner with Northern principles. At that time there were
many Northern men with Southern principles.
The city of New York, as I discovered upon reaching the age of
observation, was virtually an annex of the South, the New York
merchants having extensive and very profitable business relations with
the merchants south of the Mason and Dixon line.
The South was the best customer of New York. I often said in those
days, “Our merchants have for sale on their shelves their principles,
together with their merchandise.”
An amusing incident occurred to my knowledge which aptly illustrates
the condition of things in this pro-slavery city. A Southerner came to
a New York merchant, who was a dealer in brushes and toilet articles,
and offered him a large order for combs. The New York merchant, as it
happened, was a Quaker, but this was not known to the Southerner. The
latter made it a condition, in giving this large order, that the Quaker
merchant should exert all his influence in favor of the South. The
Southerner wished to do something to offset the great agitation headed
by the abolitionists which had been going on for years in the North
for the extinction of slavery in the South. The Quaker merchant coolly
replied that the South would have to go lousy for a long time before he
would sell his combs to them under any such conditions.
Another occurrence that took place at an earlier period still further
illumines this intense pro-slavery feeling. When Wendell Phillips, to
my mind one of the greatest orators of America, delivered a radical
and brilliant anti-slavery speech at the old Tabernacle, situated in
Broadway below Canal Street, the hall was filled with pro-slavery
shouters; they rotten-egged Phillips in the course of his address. With
some friends I was present and witnessed this performance.
At nineteen I was wavering in my fidelity to the principles of the
Democratic party, which, in the city of New York, was largely in favor
of slavery.
I had just graduated from Columbia College, which was then situated
in what is now known as College Place, between Chambers and Murray
streets. At that time many of our prominent and wealthy families
lived in Chambers, Murray, and Warren streets, and I frequently
attended festivities held by the parents of the college boys in the
old-fashioned mansions which lined those thoroughfares.
Soon after leaving college I became a student in the law office of
Benedict & Boardman, occupying offices in Dey Street, near Broadway.
At that time the late John E. Parsons, a distinguished member of the
New York bar, was the managing clerk; and Charles O’Connor, the head of
the New York bar in that generation, and who, in later years, ran as an
Independent candidate for the Presidency, was connected with that firm
as counsel.
Sitting one day at my desk, I took up a newspaper, and the debate
between Judah P. Benjamin, the rabid but eloquent pro-slavery Senator
from Louisiana, and Benjamin F. Wade, the free-soil Senator from Ohio,
attracted my attention.
Benjamin had made a strong address in defense of slavery when Wade
arose and replied. He began his reply with some bitter and memorable
words, words which completely changed my political views.
“I have listened with intense interest,” said he, “as I always do
to the eloquent speech of my friend, the Senator from Louisiana--an
Israelite with Egyptian principles.”
My father, who was a prominent merchant of New York in those days, and
very influential with the German population, had urged me to become a
Democrat, warning me that a public career, if I joined the Republican
party, would be impossible in the city of New York. I felt that he was
right in that view, as the party was in a hopeless minority, without
apparent prospect of ever being able to elect its candidates.
This was absolutely plain from the fact that Tammany Hall controlled
the entire election machinery in this city, there being no law at that
time which required the registration of voters before Election Day.
Moreover, the inspectors of election were Tammany heelers, without any
Republican representation on the election boards. In consequence,
fraudulent voting prevailed to a large extent.
And yet my convictions were irrevocably changed by the reading of
Wade’s speech in answer to Benjamin. It struck me with great force that
the Israelite Benjamin, whose ancestors were enslaved in Egypt, ought
not to uphold slavery in free America, and could not do so without
bringing disgrace upon himself.
Having convinced my father that slavery should no longer be tolerated,
he abandoned his old political associations, cast his vote for Lincoln
and Hamlin, and remained a Republican until his death.
Several years later, if I may anticipate, William M. Tweed, who had not
yet become “Boss,” but who had great and powerful influence in Tammany
Hall, besought me to join Tammany, calling my attention to the fact
that the power of the Democratic party was supreme in the city of New
York, and that the organization needed some one to influence the German
element.
He gave me his assurance that if I came into Tammany Hall I should
receive prompt recognition, and in a few years undoubtedly would become
judge of the Supreme Court; later on I might go still higher up. I
thanked Mr. Tweed for his friendly interest in me, but told him that
no political preferment could induce me to abandon my convictions and
lead me to support slavery.
When Tweed became the absolute “Boss” of Tammany, some years later,
he renewed his request that I should join Tammany Hall. Recurring to
his previous promise, he again urged me to become a member of his
organization; again I refused.
One can hardly appreciate to-day what it meant to me, a young man
beginning his career in New York, to ally myself with the Republican
party. By doing so, not only did I cast aside all apparent hope of
public preferment, but I also subjected myself to obloquy from and
ostracism by my acquaintances, my clients, and even members of my own
family.
I was about twenty years of age when the first Republican convention
met at Pittsburg. It succeeded the disruption of the old Whig party,
the latter losing in public esteem on account of its indifference
toward the slavery question.
Gen. John C. Fremont, known as the Pathfinder, was nominated for
President, and William L. Dayton, of New Jersey, was nominated for
Vice-President. The appellation of Pathfinder was given to Fremont
because in earlier years he had explored the then hardly known Western
territory, with the aid of scouts and pioneers, and had indicated
passes and routes through the mountains.
Though not yet of age, I stumped for Fremont and Dayton, making many
speeches during that memorable campaign, and participating in several
barbecues, which were then the usual accompaniment of a political
campaign. I was well received in the towns where I was scheduled to
speak. A military band and a citizens’ committee generally met me
at the station, and escorted me through the streets to the hotel or
private house in which it was arranged that I should stay.
The thrilling battle-cry of that campaign was, “Free Speech, Free Soil,
Free Men, and Fremont!” These words were shouted at all public meetings
and in all public processions, and were received with the wildest
enthusiasm. Indeed, the cry was a stump speech in itself; it still
thrills me as I write. Like the “Marseillaise,” it was a shout for
freedom set to music.
Fremont had served by appointment for a brief period as Senator from
the State of California. His popularity as a candidate was aided by the
fact that his wife, Jessie Benton Fremont, was the brilliant daughter
of Thomas H. Benton, who for thirty years was a Senator from Missouri;
and who, in later years, published his well-known book, _Thirty
Years in the United States Senate_. In the later part of his career,
Benton, who had been a strong supporter of the “peculiar institution”
in the South, became an opponent of the extension of slavery in new
territory. Mrs. Fremont was an important figure in that campaign; her
name was always mentioned with great respect by the opposition speakers.
Early in the Civil War, President Lincoln, in appreciation of Fremont’s
splendid services in the exploration of the West and because he had
been the first Republican candidate for President, appointed him
commander of a portion of the Federal forces. On August 31, 1861,
Fremont issued a military order emancipating the slaves of all persons
in arms against the United States. This action did not meet with Mr.
Lincoln’s approval; he considered it premature, and perhaps he was
right in that view; accordingly he directed that the proclamation
should be withdrawn.
I was afterward reconciled to Fremont’s defeat in 1856, for the reason
that, had he been elected, the probability is that Abraham Lincoln,
the greatest figure in American history, never would have attained the
Presidency.
Here it may be of interest to record that in the convention of 1856,
which nominated Fremont, Lincoln received one hundred and ten votes for
the Vice-presidency, while Mr. Dayton, the successful candidate, had
only a few more votes. Nevertheless, Lincoln did not achieve a national
reputation until he engaged in the memorable Lincoln and Douglas
debates in Illinois.
During the Fremont campaign I sometimes spoke in German, especially in
towns in which there was a large Teutonic population, and I was hoping
that I might influence the German population of New York, two-thirds of
which had allied itself with the Democratic party.
The most memorable event in Mr. Lincoln’s career, after the Fremont
campaign, was his appearance in joint debate with Stephen A. Douglas,
then known as the “Little Giant,” during the months of August,
September, and October, 1858. The challenge came from Lincoln, in a
letter of July 24th, proposing the joint meetings. Seven debates were
subsequently agreed upon to take place in Ottawa, Freeport, Jonesboro,
Charleston, Galesburg, Quincy, and Alton. These debates attracted
great attention in all parts of the country, and were fully reported
by the New York and Chicago newspapers. Robert H. Hitt, who afterward
became chargé d’affaires at Paris, and in later years chairman of the
House Committee on Foreign Affairs, reported stenographically all the
speeches, and gave me a vivid impression of them.
In the opening address at Ottawa, the “Little Giant” explained clearly
what he meant by the doctrine of popular sovereignty, which he had
advocated in the United States Senate for many years, and which by the
Free Soil people of the North was looked upon as merely a blind to
cover the extension of slavery in free territory.
Douglas had introduced bills giving Statehood to the Territories of
Kansas and Nebraska, and commenting upon these bills he said it was not
intended to legislate slavery into any State or Territory or to exclude
it therefrom, but “to leave the people thereof entirely free to form
and regulate their domestic institutions as they thought best, subject
only to the Federal Constitution.”
Now in the North the agitation to prevent the extension of slavery in
those States was intense; indeed, as the question involved the repeal
of the Missouri Compromise, which prohibited the extension of slavery
in newly acquired territory and which had been on the statute-book for
many years, it became the great issue of the Republican party.
Mr. Lincoln’s speeches were filled with quaint phrases and interpolated
jests. The latter always were apt and calculated to keep his hearers,
friendly or antagonistic, in a good humor. In his Ottawa answer to
Douglas’s opening speech Mr. Lincoln asserted that any attempt to show
that he (Lincoln) advocated “perfect social and political equality
between the negro and the white man is only a specious and fantastic
arrangement of words, by which one might prove a horse-chestnut was a
chestnut horse.”
All Lincoln demanded for the negro was the right to eat the bread which
his own hands had earned without leave of anybody.
Lincoln was fond of quoting from the Bible without mentioning the
fact, whereas Douglas was often caught differing with the Scriptures.
Naturally Lincoln took advantage of his political opponent’s lack of
Biblical knowledge.
Judge Douglas, in the debate of July 16, 1858, said: “Mr. Lincoln tells
you in his speech made in Springfield, ‘A house divided against itself
cannot stand. I believe this Government cannot endure permanently half
slave, half free. I do not expect the Union to be dissolved. I do not
expect the house to fall; but I do expect it to cease to be divided. It
will become all one thing or all the other.’”
Judge Douglas then proceeded to use as his keynote of his speech
Lincoln’s sentence: “A house divided against itself cannot stand,”
arguing eloquently and apparently quite unaware of its Biblical origin.
Referring to Judge Douglas’s criticism of his expression, “A house
divided against itself cannot stand,” Lincoln asked: “Does the judge
say it can stand? If he does, then it is a question of veracity not
between him and me, but between the judge and an authority of somewhat
higher character.”
Lincoln’s fondness for scriptural stories and incidents is further
illustrated when, having appointed a man to a judgeship who had been
suspected of having been connected with a certain secret organization
which was opposed to Lincoln’s renomination, he was remonstrated with
and his magnanimity criticized. He replied: “I suppose Judge ----,
having been disappointed, did behave badly, but I have scriptural
reasons for appointing him. When Moses was on Mount Sinai, getting a
commission for Aaron, that same Aaron was at the foot of the mountain
making a false god for the people to worship. Yet Aaron got the
commission.”
As an answer to Douglas’s doctrine of popular sovereignty Lincoln said
that he could not understand why, in the Territories, any man should be
“obliged to have a slave if he did not want one. And if any man wants
slaves,” argued Lincoln, “all other citizens in the Territory have no
way of keeping that one man from holding them.”
He denounced fiercely the scheme of the Southern slaveholders to annex
Cuba as a plan to increase the slave territory. It may be recalled that
the conference at Ostend during Buchanan’s administration was held for
that purpose.
Horace White has published an admirable description of his tour with
these debaters. In a parade at Charleston thirty-two young ladies,
representing States of the Union, carried banners. This “float” was
followed by a handsome young woman on horseback, holding aloft a burgee
inscribed: “Kansas, I will be free!” Upon the side of the float was the
legend:
Westward the star of empire takes its way;
We girls link on to Lincoln, as our mothers did to Clay.
Senator Douglas charged that these debates had been instituted for the
purpose of carrying Lincoln into the United States Senate. Although
Lincoln denied this, the Democrats believed there was some foundation
for the assumption.
The meeting at Dayton was a particularly boisterous one. Elijah Parish
Lovejoy, a brother of the distinguished Owen Lovejoy, who was very
prominent in the abolitionist agitation, had been assassinated there
nineteen years before for his anti-slavery opinions, but neither of the
speakers referred to the fact.
To show the pro-slavery sentiment that dominated the entire Government
at that time, the famous dictum of Chief-Justice Taney in the Dred
Scott decision that “a negro had no rights that a white man was bound
to respect,” may appropriately be recalled.
II
LINCOLN’S INTRODUCTION TO THE EAST
Abraham Lincoln made his first public appearance in New York at Cooper
Union on the night of the 27th of February, 1860. My anti-slavery
attitude was strengthened by that wonderful speech.
My acquaintance with Abraham Lincoln began on the afternoon of that
memorable day. I was presented to him at his hotel, and I venture
to hope that I made some impression on him. This may have been due
to the fact that at an early age I had taken an active part in the
Republican campaigns, and had followed with close attention the Lincoln
and Douglas debates as they were reported in the New York journals.
Consequently I could talk intelligently of national politics.
I was on hand early at the Institute that night, and, having a seat
upon the platform, I was able to observe the manner of the orator as
well as to hear every word he uttered. The way in which he carried
himself before the large audience that filled every nook and corner of
that underground hall is engraven on my mind. He was a very homely man.
Indeed, he often referred to his homeliness himself. His tall, gaunt
body was like a huge clothed skeleton. So large were his feet and so
clumsy were his hands that they looked out of proportion to the rest of
his figure. No artistic skill could soften his features nor render his
appearance less ungainly, but after he began to talk he was awkwardness
deified.
In repose, as I saw him on many subsequent occasions, his face seemed
dull, but when animated it became radiant with vitalized energy.
No textual report of his Cooper Institute address can possibly give any
idea of its great oratorical merits. Mr. Lincoln never ranted, but gave
emphatic emphasis to what he wished especially to “put across” by a
slowness and marked clearness of enunciation. His voice was unpleasant,
almost rasping and shrill at first. Perhaps this was due to the fact
that he found it necessary to force it. A little later, he seemed to
control his voice better, and his earnestness invited and easily held
the attention of his auditors.
To summarize the seven thousand words spoken by Mr. Lincoln on that
great occasion would be a difficult task and could not be successfully
attempted in these reminiscences. I will only state that his theme was
“slavery as the fathers viewed it.” Its delivery occupied more than an
hour, its entire purpose being to show that the fathers of the Republic
merely tolerated slavery where it existed, since interference with it
would be resisted by the South; moreover, recognition of the legality
of slavery in those States had been the inducement offered to them to
enter the Union.
Mr. Lincoln, however, indicated that he was unalterably and inflexibly
opposed to the extension of slavery in territory in which it did not
exist.
Mr. Lincoln began with a quotation from one of Senator Douglas’s
speeches, in which the “Little Giant” asserted that the framers of the
Constitution understood the slavery question as well as, or better
than, their descendants. He brilliantly traced the origin and growth of
democracy under the various forms that preceded the final adoption of
the Constitution.
As it appeared to an abolitionist in principle, the speaker handled
the slavery question somewhat cautiously, chiefly condemning the
contemplated repeal of the Missouri Compromise, and opposing the
extension of slavery into Territories and States where it did not
exist. The appeal that he made to the reason and the common sense
of the Southerner was forcible. He denied that the Republicans of
the North were sectional, or that they blamed the present generation
of the South for the existence of slavery. He went out of his way
to condemn the John Brown raid, asserting that the Republican party
had no sympathy with that foolhardy enterprise. He compared the John
Brown raid to the previous outbreak at Southampton, Virginia, under
the negro, Nat Turner, in which sixty white people, mostly women and
children, were destroyed. He denounced the declaration of the Southern
people that Northern anti-slavery men had instigated the John Brown
incursion at Harper’s Ferry, and he showed that the trial of John Brown
at Charlestown proved the allegation to be utterly fallacious.
The sentences near the close of Mr. Lincoln’s address will serve as
the keynote upon which he subsequently based his candidacy for the
Presidency in opposition to the extremely radical anti-slavery views of
Horace Greeley and William H. Seward.
“Wrong as we think slavery,” said Lincoln, “we can afford to let it
alone where it is, because that much is due to the necessity arising
from its actual presence in the nation; but can we, while our votes
will prevent, allow it to spread in the national Territories and to
overrun us here in these free States? Let us have faith that right
makes might, and in that faith let us dare to do our duty as we
understand it.”
The reception of these closing words by former Whigs and partially
convinced Republicans who were in the audience can hardly be described
as enthusiastic. Many of these men left the auditorium that night, as I
did, in a seriously thoughtful mood.
Nevertheless, Mr. Lincoln was congratulated by many upon the “boldness”
of his views. And, indeed, they seemed radical at a time when nearly
every prominent statesman of the country was “trimming” on the slavery
question. The great Daniel Webster had ruined his political career some
years previously by trying to be “all things to all men” politically.
When I called at Mr. Lincoln’s hotel the following morning, I found Mr.
Lincoln alone. The shouts of approbation of the previous night were
still ringing in my ears, but the figure of the awkward Illinoisan
suggested nothing in the way of public enthusiasm or personal
distinction. He then and there appeared as a plain, unpretentious man.
I ventured to congratulate him upon the success of his speech, and
his face brightened. “I am not sure that I made a success,” he said,
diffidently.
During the remainder of the brief time I was with Mr. Lincoln in his
hotel, together with two members of the Republican committee, there was
only a general conversation about the Douglas-Lincoln debates, and the
intense anti-slavery agitation prevailing in the Kansas and Nebraska
Territories and in Illinois.
A few days after that epoch-making speech a prominent Democratic
acquaintance, who had often expressed to me in language of bitterness
his hatred of all people who opposed the South, assured me that Mr.
Lincoln’s speech had made him a Free-Soiler, although he had not
believed it possible that such a change in his views could ever occur.
In subsequent speeches throughout New England Mr. Lincoln went to
greater lengths in his denunciation of slavery. At Hartford, on the 5th
of March, he denounced slavery as the enemy of the free working-man;
a day later, at New Haven, he characterized slavery as “the snake in
the Union bed”; at Norwich, on the ninth of that month, he described
Douglas’s popular sovereignty as “the sugar-coated slavery pill.”
These later speeches greatly strengthened the anti-slavery agitation
throughout the North, and went far to settle the opinions of the
voters, who were wavering between Douglas’s popular sovereignty and the
ultra radicalism of Garrison and Phillips.
III
HOW LINCOLN WAS FIRST NOMINATED
The Republican National Convention that convened in Chicago, May 16,
1860, proved a complete refutation of the frequently expressed belief
that the new party had died with Fremont’s defeat in 1856. Some of the
ablest and most distinguished men in the country appeared as delegates
and as candidates for nomination. During the four years following
Fremont’s defeat by James Buchanan, of Pennsylvania, former minister to
England, the Republican party had been strengthened by the affiliation
of many Northern Democrats who were inclined to oppose the extension of
slavery. The struggles to exclude the curse of slavery from Kansas and
Nebraska had agitated the entire country during these years, and had
brought many new voters into the ranks of the Republican party.
William H. Seward was admittedly the great Republican leader and the
ablest champion of his party. His speech in the United States Senate
on the “Irrepressible Conflict” had made him famous all over the
country, and he was constantly talked of by both friends and foes. At
least two-thirds of the delegates at the Chicago convention favored
his nomination, and even the majority of the delegates from Illinois,
Lincoln’s own State, while instructed to vote for “Honest Old Abe” as
the favorite son, passively favored Seward.
In the New York delegation was Tom Hyer, the noted champion
prize-fighter of his generation. He bore the banner of the New York
City Republican Club, and was an ardent supporter of Seward. Being a
man six feet two and a half inches in height, he presented an imposing
figure.
The defeat of Seward’s ambition was generally ascribed to an unhealed
break between Horace Greeley, Thurlow Weed, and himself. These three
men, all eminent in their spheres, constituted what was known then
as the “Republican Triumvirate,” or what would now be called the
“Big Three.” This breach occurred in November, 1854, over five years
previously. Greeley resented the injustice that he believed had been
meted out to him, being sincerely of the opinion that Senator Seward
had deceived him, and this unfriendly feeling had fermented into a
fully developed hatred.
His letter to Seward announcing “a dissolution of the political firm of
Seward, Weed, and Greeley, by the withdrawal of the junior partner,”
is a part of political history. It is a long epistle, covering more
than five pages in Greeley’s _Recollections of a Busy Life_, in which
is recounted the writer’s career in New York, from his start as “a
poor young printer” to his affiliations with the political powers of
the Empire State. While it contains kindly words for Thurlow Weed, it
proclaims the severance of all relations with Seward. In conclusion, it
acknowledges acts of kindness by his former partner in politics, and,
reiterating that “such acts will be gratefully remembered, the writer
takes an eternal farewell.”
In the stormy days preceding the Chicago convention the New York
_Tribune’s_ opposition to Seward’s nomination had been continuous. But
I have always had an idea, based upon a study of the actual occurrences
in the convention where I was a looker-on, and from my intimacy with
Mr. Greeley, that the factor which had the most to do with Seward’s
defeat was the fear of Henry S. Lane, Republican candidate for Governor
of Indiana, and of Andrew G. Curtin, Republican candidate for Governor
of Pennsylvania, that Seward could not carry these two States. This
weakness would not only insure defeat of the Presidential ticket, but
would carry down with it the aspirations of these two Gubernatorial
candidates.
I talked with both of these able politicians on the subject, and the
reasons they gave for their opposition to Seward were that he had
antagonized the Protestant element of the country and the remnants of
the old “Know Nothing party” by his advocacy, in a message to the New
York Legislature, of a division of the school funds between Catholic
parochial schools and the common or public schools of the States in
proportion to the number of Catholics and non-Catholics. How much
ground there was for the anxiety of Lane and Curtin I have never been
able to settle in my mind. Whether they were unduly alarmed or not, the
dissemination of these views among the delegates created a noticeable
weakening on the part of Seward’s friends.
The battle in the convention was a contest of political giants. Thurlow
Weed, to whom Lincoln afterward became greatly attached, was Seward’s
devoted and loyal friend and champion. He gallantly led the fight for
him, ably supported by Edwin D. Morgan, the war Governor of New York,
and chairman, at that time, of the National Committee, and also by
Henry J. Raymond, the distinguished founder of the New York _Times_,
and in later years Lieutenant-Governor of the State of New York.
Before the convention was called to order at least eight candidates
were in the field; to enumerate them:
William H. Seward, of New York.
Abraham Lincoln, of Illinois.
Simon Cameron, of Pennsylvania.
Salmon P. Chase, of Ohio.
Edward Bates, of Missouri.
William L. Dayton, of New Jersey.
Justice John McLean, of the Supreme Court.
Jacob Collamer, of Vermont.
George Ashman, of Massachusetts, was chosen permanent chairman of the
convention, and after the platform was read Joshua Giddings moved
that it should be amended by inserting a part of the Declaration of
Independence. This was violently opposed by another delegate in a
rather sarcastic speech, whereupon George William Curtis, one of the
great orators of America, and at the time editor of _Harper’s Weekly_,
got the floor and in his mellifluous voice said:
“Gentlemen, have you dared to come to this convention to undo what your
fathers did in Independence Hall?”
Curtis’s speech carried the amendment.
To impress all wavering delegates, an imposing political parade through
the streets was organized by Seward’s friends. It was great in numbers
and enthusiasm. Hundreds of marchers, among whom Tom Hyer, in his
glossy silk hat, was a prominent figure, were drafted into the parade
by the political wire-pullers, but it had no effect in determining the
result on the floor of the convention.
Indeed, from my long political experience I have come to the conclusion
that these public parades, while imposing for the moment, have no
permanent influence upon the voters. The mob of spectators along the
streets are there largely as a matter of curiosity, and are not to be
swerved from their convictions by any mere spectacle.
While this outside parade was being carried on, Lincoln’s friends
developed tremendous energy and skill in marshaling the delegates.
Among the leaders of the “rail-splitter’s” cause were Joseph Medill,
the celebrated editor of the Chicago _Tribune_, David Davis, the
intimate friend of Lincoln, afterward appointed by him justice of
the United States Supreme Court; Norman B. Judd; and Leonard Swett,
remarkable for his close resemblance to Lincoln.
Greeley was an intense champion of Edward Bates, who had been a
representative from Missouri during the administration of John Quincy
Adams.
Greeley’s championship of Bates was remarkable for several reasons.
Bates was born in Virginia, he had been a lifelong slaveholder, and in
politics he was what was known as a “Silver-gray Whig.” Consequently he
was conservative on the slavery question, clinging to the doctrine of
the revolutionary sages that “slavery was an evil to be restricted,
not a good to be diffused.” Greeley insisted that the position that
Bates thus held made him essentially a Republican. While he believed
that Bates would poll votes even in the slave States, he was confident
that he would rally about him all that was left of the old Whig party.
Greeley, regarding trouble with the Southern States as probably
inevitable, yet believed that the nomination of Bates would check
and possibly avert an open schism. He did not at the time avow these
reasons for supporting Bates, but afterward frankly admitted them.
While these views may have influenced his opposition to Seward’s
nomination, there is no doubt in my mind but that the real reason of
his fight against Seward were the grounds hereinbefore stated.
The Free Soil element at Chicago was both prominent and aggressive. A
characteristic anecdote is told of Greeley during a caucus at which a
Free Soil member shouted, “Let us have a candidate, this time, that
represents our advanced convictions against slavery.”
“My friend,” inquired Greeley, in his falsetto voice, as he rose to
his feet, “suppose each Republican voter in your State were to receive
a letter to-morrow advising him that he (the said voter) had just
lost a brother living in the South, who had left to him a plantation
stocked with slaves. How many of the two hundred and fifty thousand
Republicans would, in response, set free those slaves?”
“I fear I could not stand that test myself,” was the rejoinder.
“Then it is not yet time to nominate an abolitionist,” retorted
Greeley, sitting down.
This is a good story, but if the incident took place at all it must
have occurred elsewhere than in the caucus of the New York delegation,
for the reason that Greeley, not being a delegate from the State of New
York, could not attend the caucus of that delegation. He was appointed
a delegate from Oregon, by the special request of the Republicans of
that State, and as such sat in the convention.
Seward had all of the delegates from New York, Michigan, Massachusetts,
and he counted many followers in other States.
Lincoln had a strong following from his own State, and on the first
ballot mustered one hundred and two votes out of a total of four
hundred and sixty-six. Seward received one hundred and seventy-two
and a half on the second ballot; then Cameron turned his votes over
to Lincoln, and thirteen of the Bates delegates followed suit. On the
third ballot Lincoln’s vote had increased to two hundred and thirty-one
and a half, while Seward’s was only one hundred and eighty. When the
break started I turned to my neighbor in the gallery and remarked,
“Seward is defeated; Lincoln will be nominated.”
“No,” he objected; “this is only one delegation, and Seward’s friends
are too devotedly attached to his fortunes. They will never go over to
his opponent.”
“And what will Greeley do?” I asked.
“Greeley will be left with only his hatred,” he rejoined.
And yet, even as we were speaking, the tide had turned. Delegate after
delegate came over to Lincoln, and the final ballot gave him three
hundred and fifty-four votes and the nomination. When the result was
announced there was an outbreak from the galleries which had been
packed with Lincoln sympathizers, but the New York delegates sat silent
and sullen in their seats. It seemed a long time, although it was
really only a few minutes, before William M. Evarts, the distinguished
member of the New York bar, who later became Secretary of State under
President Hayes, and Senator from the State of New York, rose and
moved, presumably with Seward’s acquiescence, that Lincoln’s nomination
be made unanimous. Then the applause broke out again and this time it
was much more general and spontaneous.
Hannibal Hamlin, of Maine, was nominated for Vice-President
practically without opposition. The singular coincidence that the last
syllable of Lincoln’s first name, “Abraham,” and the first syllable
of his last name, “Lincoln,” form the name “Hamlin,” attracted wide
attention at that time.
A great many anti-slavery advocates in the North differed with Lincoln
as regards his views on the grave question of the immediate extinction
of slavery in the Southern States. They did not understand him.
They did not comprehend that he was at heart thoroughly imbued with the
unrighteousness of property in human beings, but that he felt it was
good policy to go gradually, step by step, hoping to unite the entire
North and so bring about the ultimate abolishment of slavery; whereas,
if the policy for the immediate extinction of slavery should be adopted
it must inevitably have disrupted the Republican party.
I was present at that convention, not as a delegate, but as a
“looker-on” and a student of American politics. I need not say that I
learned much about the finesse and spirit of compromise that enters
into all national conventions.
From a brief conversation which I had with Mr. Greeley, I understood
that while he disclaimed having effected Seward’s defeat, he was only
moderately gratified at Lincoln’s nomination.
In his well-known volume of _Recollections_ he intimates that he
exerted much less influence in bringing about Seward’s defeat than I
gathered from the conversation I had with him on the morning following
Lincoln’s nomination.
The demand of the people of the North, where the Republican strength
lay exclusively, was for a candidate who would appeal to both
Free-Soilers and abolitionists. Between these factions there was an
almost impassable gulf.
Now as the years have rolled on Lincoln has grown steadily in the love
and admiration of the American people, and the unjust criticism which
was made by the abolitionists at the time of his nomination, namely,
that he did not favor the abolition of slavery in the States because
he was born in the South, is regarded with disdain. The abolitionists
in their intemperate criticism used language, in discussing Lincoln,
hardly less acrimonious than that employed by the “fire-eaters” of the
South; but they had no recourse except to vote for him. Thus were added
thousands of unwilling votes to swell the Lincoln aggregate in the
November election.
The Democratic convention had convened at an earlier date in
Charleston, South Carolina, the city of my birth. After quarreling
over a platform for a week, the convention was split by the withdrawal
of the majority of the delegates of the slave States, following the
adoption of the plank favoring the Douglas “popular sovereignty”
doctrine.
After fifty-seven ballots for President, in which Douglas had the
majority in every instance, but not the two-thirds required for
nomination in Democratic conventions, the convention adjourned on
May 3, 1860, to reassemble at Baltimore, June 18. There, the places
of the seceders having been filled, Douglas received one hundred and
seventy-three and a half votes on the first ballot and one hundred
and eighty-one and a half on the second, still lacking the vote of
two-thirds of the three hundred and three delegates in convention. On
motion of Sanford E. Church, of New York, who, in later years, became
chief-justice of the Court of Appeals of that State, he was declared
the nominee. Herschel V. Johnson, of Georgia, was named as candidate
for Vice-President.
The remnant of the Charleston convention gathered itself together
in a separate convention, also held in Baltimore, on the eleventh
day of June. It adjourned on the 25th of that month, when John
C. Breckenridge, of Kentucky,--at that time Vice-President under
Buchanan--was unanimously named for President, with Gen. Joseph H.
Lane, of Oregon, as his running mate.
In the Charleston convention Benjamin F. Butler, of Massachusetts, who
during the Civil War became identified with the North and was made a
major-general in the Union Army, cast a solitary vote for Jefferson
Davis as the Democratic candidate for President.
The three-cornered contest that followed between Lincoln, Douglas,
and Breckenridge is paralleled in American political history by the
famous campaign of 1824 when Jackson, Adams, Clay, and Crawford, all
of the same party, were running for the Presidency. As none of the
latter received a majority of the electoral vote, the election, under
the provisions of the Constitution, was thrown into the House of
Representatives, where John Quincy Adams received the nomination.
When the committee went to Springfield to notify Mr. Lincoln of his
nomination, Judge Kelly, of Pennsylvania, known, because of his
service of over thirty years in Congress, as the father of the House
of Representatives, was one of the committee. The judge was unusually
large in stature, and his great height attracted Mr. Lincoln, who, upon
shaking hands with him, asked, “What is your height, Judge?”
“About six feet three,” said Judge Kelly. “What is yours, Mr. Lincoln.”
“Six feet four,” replied Lincoln, with a smile, pulling himself up to
his full stature.
“Pennsylvania,” said Judge Kelly, “bows to Illinois. My dear man, for
years my heart has been aching for a President that I could ‘look up
to,’ and I have found him in the land where we thought there was none
but ‘Little Giants.’”
Lincoln replied, “There is one man in this country who, though little
in stature, is a giant in mind, and he has given me much hard work to
do.”
Mr. Lincoln’s reply to the committee that visited Springfield on
May 19, to notify him of his nomination, and his formal letter of
acceptance, dated May 23, avoided all reference to what Mr. Seward had
described as “the impending crisis.” In his letter Mr. Lincoln pledged
“due regard to the rights of all States and Territories and people of
the nation, to the inviolability of the Constitution, and the perpetual
union, harmony, and prosperity of all.” This assurance satisfied
neither slaveholders of the South nor anti-slave men of the North. This
letter often rose to haunt Lincoln in the latter part of the war, after
he had issued the Emancipation Proclamation which gave freedom to all
the slaves.
Mr. Lincoln was in the office of the Springfield _Journal_ when he
received the first notification of his nomination. After allowing the
assembled people to congratulate him, he said, “There is a little woman
down at our house that would like to hear the news,” and he started at
once for home.
IV
HOW LINCOLN WAS FIRST ELECTED
Not long after the nomination I went to Chicago and thence to
Springfield. When I called at the modest Lincoln home, in order to
offer my congratulations, I found him eager to obtain every ray of
light upon the prospects of the coming campaign.
“What are the chances of my election?” he asked, as he took my hand.
“You are going to get the entire North,” I replied, “on account of the
Democratic division between Breckenridge and Douglas.”
“That is my own way of calculating,” he assented, “but I am glad to get
the views of everybody of experience in political matters.”
“Mr. Dittenhoefer is absolutely correct in his figuring,” put in a
bystander, and the glimmer of a smile of satisfaction passed over
Mr. Lincoln’s rugged countenance. I stepped back and stood looking
and wondering. Typically Western he seemed to be in face, figure,
and dress. How would he bear himself if called upon to direct the
destinies of the Republic? Let me say frankly that, at this early day,
no suspicion of his real greatness had ever entered my mind. I knew
he was an able man, and I was content to hope that he might be strong
enough to cope with the coming crisis in national affairs.
The Republican campaign, which began in earnest by the middle of June
and lasted until the night before election day in November, differed in
many respects from any other in my recollection.
I believe that there was more sincerity of soul put into the efforts to
win by fair means than has appeared in more recent national contests.
A few days before the election of 1860 I made a speech at Cooper
Institute, which began as follows:
“With banners waving and with bugle horns,
We are coming, Father Abraham, five hundred thousand strong,
One blast upon the bugle horn is worth a thousand men.”
This was repeated by numerous speakers on the stump throughout the
country.
Memories of these parades, stump speeches, and bonfires linger with me
vividly. The marching clubs were called “Wide Awakes,” and upon the
oil-cloth cloaks, cut amply long in order to protect their wearers
from the weather, the words “Wide Awake,” in tall, white letters, were
painted. Each man carried a swinging torch which maintained an upright
position no matter how it was held. The campaign developed numerous
parades of these “Wide Awakes” in cities and towns throughout the
country.
The Republican National Committee was not in possession of large
funds, and each organization financed itself. It is doubtful if the
National Committee had more than $100,000 to spend, and most of this
went for printing and postage. There was no “yellow-dog fund” in those
days. Had it been necessary for Mr. Lincoln or his managers to raise a
half-million dollars, or go down to defeat, Lincoln would have lost out.
Our “infant industries” had not yet been developed and “brought to a
head by the poultice of protection.” The late Senator Hanna would have
regarded the prospects of a successful campaign without contribution
from the protected interests as exceedingly doubtful.
I threw all my energy into this campaign, and, though young, I was
frequently making several speeches during a day and evening. I marched
with the “Wide Awakes,” and was sent to different parts of the State,
where, with other speakers, I addressed large audiences. The temper of
my hearers was not always encouraging.
I have always doubted whether Seward’s partisan adherents in central
New York gave really loyal support to Lincoln, since it continued
to rankle in their breasts that the sentiment of two-thirds of the
convention, originally in favor of Seward, had been turned to Lincoln
through the machinations of Horace Greeley, Reuben E. Fenton--afterward
Governor of the State of New York--and other prominent anti-Seward men.
No attempt was made by the Republicans to campaign in the Southern
States, where the breach existing between the Douglas and Breckenridge
adherents was remorselessly unrelenting. The drift in those States
was naturally unanimously in favor of Breckenridge, and it was early
recognized that Douglas, though a Democrat, would not carry a single
Southern State.
In the North the contest lay between Lincoln and Douglas. Breckenridge
and Bell counted comparatively few and scattered followers, and their
names awakened no enthusiasm.
Stephen A. Douglas was one of the best types of the American aggressive
politician this country ever produced. I heard Douglas speak on several
occasions. His figure was short and chunky, hardly measuring up to his
popular title of the “Little Giant.” He was very eloquent, but his
campaign theme, “Popular Sovereignty,” was never a drawing-card in
the North, and the practical application of this doctrine was really
restricted to the Territories, including “Bleeding Kansas.” The many
speeches that Douglas made throughout the North only had the effect of
consolidating the opponents of “Squatter Sovereignty.”