CIVIL WAR: PRESERVATION OF THE UNION.

In the year 1830, or thereabouts, a traveller on the frontier

settlements of Illinois (if a traveller was ever known in those dreary

regions) might have seen a tall, gaunt, awkward, homely, sad-looking

young man of twenty-one, clothed in a suit of brown jean dyed with

walnut-bark, hard at work near a log cabin on the banks of the river

Sangamon,--a small stream emptying into the Illinois River. The man was

splitting rails, which he furnished to a poor woman in exchange for some

homespun cloth to make a pair of trousers, at the rate of four hundred

rails per yard. His father, one of the most shiftless of the poor whites

of Kentucky, a carpenter by trade, had migrated to Indiana, and, after a

short residence, had sought another home on a bluff near the Sangamon

River, where he had cleared, with the assistance of his son, about

fifteen acres of land. From this he gained a miserable and

precarious living.

The young rail-splitter had also a knack of slaughtering hogs, for

which he received thirty cents a day. Physically he had extraordinary

strength, and no one could beat him in wrestling and other athletic

exercises. Mentally, he was bright, inquiring, and not wholly

illiterate. He had learned, during his various peregrinations, to read,

write, and cipher. He was reliable and honest, and had in 1828 been

employed, when his father lived in Indiana, by a Mr. Gentry, to

accompany his son to New Orleans, with a flat-boat of produce, which he

sold successfully.

It is not my object to dwell on the early life of Abraham Lincoln. It

has been made familiar by every historian who has written about him, in

accordance with the natural curiosity to know the beginnings of

illustrious men; and the more humble, the more interesting these are to

most people. It is quite enough to say that no man in the United States

ever reached eminence from a more obscure origin.

Rail-splitting did not achieve the results to which the ambition of

young Lincoln aspired, so he contrived to go into the grocery business;

but in this he was unsuccessful, owing to an inherent deficiency in

business habits and aptitude. He was, however, gifted with shrewd sense,

a quick sense of humor with keen wit, and a marked steadiness of

character, which gained him both friends and popularity in the miserable

little community where he lived; and in 1832 he was elected captain of

a military company to fight Indians in the Black Hawk War. There is no

evidence that he ever saw the enemy. He probably would have fought well

had he been so fortunate as to encounter the foe; for he was cool,

fearless, strong, agile, and active without rashness. In 1833 he was

made postmaster of a small village; but the office paid nothing, and his

principal profit from it was the opportunity to read newspapers and some

magazine trash. He was still very poor, and was surrounded with rough

people who lived chiefly on corn bread and salt pork, who slept in

cabins without windows, and who drank whiskey to excess, yet who were

more intelligent than they seemed.

Such was Abraham Lincoln at the age of twenty-four,--obscure, unknown,

poverty-stricken, and without a calling. Suppose at that time some

supernatural being had appeared to him in a dream, and announced that he

would some day be President of the United States; and not merely this,

but that he would rule the nation in a great crisis, and save it from

dismemberment and anarchy by force of wisdom and character, and leave

behind him when he died a fame second only to that of Washington! Would

he not have felt, on awaking from his dream, pretty much as did the aged

patriarch whose name he bore, when the angel of the Lord assured him

that he would be the father of many nations, that his seed would

outnumber the sands of the sea, and that through him all humanity would

be blessed from generation to generation? Would he not have felt as the

stripling David, among the sheep and the goats of his father's flocks,

when the prophet Samuel announced to him that he should be king over

Israel, and rule with such success and splendor that the greatness and

prosperity of the Jewish nation would be forever dated from his

matchless reign?

The obscure postmaster, without a dollar in his pocket, and carrying the

mail in his hat, had indeed no intimation of his future elevation: but

his career was just as mysterious as that of David, and an old-fashioned

religious man would say that it was equally providential; for of all the

leading men of this great nation it would seem that he turned out to be

the fittest for the work assigned to him,--chosen, not because he was

learned or cultivated or experienced or famous, or even interesting, but

because his steps were so ordered that he fell into the paths which

naturally led to his great position, although no genius could have

foreseen the events which logically controlled the result. If Lincoln

had not been gifted with innate greatness, though unknown to himself and

all the world, to be developed as occasions should arise, no fortunate

circumstances could have produced so extraordinary a career. If Lincoln

had not the germs of greatness in him,--certain qualities which were

necessary for the guidance of a nation in an emergency,--to be developed

subsequently as the need came, then his career is utterly insoluble

according to any known laws of human success; and when history cannot

solve the mysteries of human success,--in other words, "justify the ways

of Providence to man,"--then it loses half its charm, and more than half

its moral force. It ceases to be the great teacher which all nations

claim it to be.

However obscure the birth of Lincoln, and untoward as were all the

circumstances which environed him, he was doubtless born ambitious, that

is, with a strong and unceasing desire to "better his condition." That

at the age of twenty-four he ever dreamed of reaching an exalted

position is improbable. But when he saw the ascendency that his wit and

character had gained for him among rude and uncultivated settlers on the

borders of civilization, then, being a born leader of men, as Jackson

was, it was perfectly natural that he should aspire to be a politician.

Politics ever have been the passion of Western men with more than

average ability, and it required but little learning and culture under

the sovereignty of "squatters" to become a member of the State

legislature, especially in the border States, where population was

sparse, and the people mostly poor and ignorant.

Hence, "smart" young men, in rude villages, early learned to make

speeches in social and political meetings. Every village had its

favorite stump orator, who knew all the affairs of the nation, and a

little more, and who, with windy declamation, amused and delighted his

rustic hearers. Lincoln was one of these. There was never a time, even

in his early career, when he could not make a speech in which there was

more wit than knowledge; although as he increased in knowledge he also

grew in wisdom, and his good sense, with his habit of patient thinking,

gave him the power of clear and convincing statement. Moreover, at

twenty-four, he was already tolerably intelligent, and had devoured all

the books he could lay his hand upon. Indeed, it was to the reading of

books that Lincoln, like Henry Clay, owed pretty much all his schooling.

Beginning with Weems's "Life of Washington" when a mere lad, he

perseveringly read, through all his fortunes, all manner of books,--not

only during leisure hours by day, when tending mill or store, but for

long months by the light of pine shavings from the cooper's shop at

night, and in later times when traversing the country in his various

callings. And his persistent reading gave him new ideas and

broader views.

With his growing thoughts his aspirations grew. So, like others, he took

the stump, and as early as 1832 offered himself a candidate for the

State legislature. His maiden speech in an obscure village is thus

reported: "Fellow citizens, I am humble Abraham Lincoln. My politics are

short and sweet, like the old woman's dance. I am in favor of a National

Bank, of internal improvements, and a high protective tariff. These are

my sentiments. If elected, I shall be thankful; if not, it will be all

the same."

Lincoln was not elected, although supported by the citizens of New

Salem, where he lived, and to whom he had promised the improvement of

the Sangamon River. Disappointed, he went into the grocery business once

again, and again failed, partly because he had no capital, and partly

because he had no business talents in that line; although from his known

integrity he was able to raise what money he needed. He then set about

the study of the law, as a step to political success, read books, and

the occasional newspapers, told stories, and kept his soul in

patience,--which was easier to him than to keep his body in

decent clothes.

It was necessary for him to do something for a living while he studied

law, since the grocery business had failed, and hence he became an

assistant to John Calhoun, the county surveyor, who was overburdened

with work. Just as he had patiently worked through an English Grammar,

to enable him to speak correctly, he took up a work on surveying and

prepared himself for his new employment in six weeks. He was soon

enabled to live more decently, and to make valuable acquaintances,

meanwhile diligently pursuing his law studies, not only during his

leisure, but even as he travelled about the country to and from his

work; on foot or on horseback, his companion was sure to be a law-book.

In 1834 a new election of representatives for the State legislature took

place, and Lincoln became a candidate,--this time with more success,

owing to the assistance of influential friends. He went to Vandalia, the

State capital, as a Whig, and a great admirer of Henry Clay. He was

placed on the Committee of Public Accounts and Expenditures, but made no

mark; yet that he gained respect was obvious from the fact that he was

re-elected by a very large vote. He served a second term, and made

himself popular by advocating schemes to "gridiron" every county with

railroads, straighten out the courses of rivers, dig canals, and cut up

the State into towns, cities, and house-lots. One might suppose that a

man so cool and sensible as he afterwards proved himself to be must have

seen the absurdity of these wild schemes, and hence only fell in with

them from policy as a rising member of the legislature, to gain favor

with his constituents. Yet he and his colleagues were all crude and

inexperienced legislators, and it is no discredit to Lincoln that he was

borne along with the rest in an enthusiasm for "developing the country."

The mania for speculation was nearly universal, especially in the new

Western States. Illinois alone projected 1,350 miles of railroad,

without money and without credit to carry out this Bedlam legislation,

and in almost every village there were "corner lots" enough to be sold

to make a great city. Aside from this participation in a bubble destined

to burst, and to be followed by disasters, bankruptcies, and universal

distress, Lincoln was credited with steadiness, and gained great

influence. He was prominent in securing the passage of a bill which

removed the seat of government to Springfield, and was regarded as a

good debater. In this session, too, he and Daniel Stone, the two

representatives from Sangamon County, introduced a resolution declaring

that the institution of slavery was "founded on both injustice and bad

policy;" that the Congress had no power to interfere with slavery in the

States; that it had power in the District of Columbia, but should not

exercise it unless at the request of the people of the District. There

were no votes for these resolutions, but it is interesting to see how

early Lincoln took both moral and constitutional ground concerning

national action on this vexed question.

In March, 1837, Lincoln, then twenty-eight years old, was admitted to

the bar, and made choice of Springfield, the new capital, as a

residence, then a thriving village of one or two thousand inhabitants,

with some pretension to culture and refinement. It was certainly a

political, if not a social, centre. The following year he was again

elected to the legislature, and came within a few votes of being made

Speaker of the House. He carried on the practice of the law with his

duties as a legislator. Indeed, law and politics went hand in hand; as a

lawyer he gained influence in the House of Representatives, and as a

member of the legislature he increased his practice in the courts. He

had for a partner a Major Stuart, who in 1841 left him, having been

elected Representative in Congress, and was succeeded in the firm by

Stephen T. Logan. Lincoln's law practice was far from lucrative, and he

was compelled to live in the strictest economy. Litigation was very

simple, and it required but little legal learning to conduct cases. The

lawyers' fees were small among a people who were mostly poor.

Considering, however, his defective education and other disadvantages,

Lincoln's success as a lawyer was certainly respectable, if not great,

in his small sphere.

In 1840, three years after his admission to the bar, Lincoln was chosen

as an elector in the Harrison presidential contest, and he stumped the

State, frequently encountering Stephen A. Douglas in debate, with great

credit to himself, for Douglas was the most prominent political orator

of the day. The heart of Lincoln, from the start, was in politics rather

than the law, for which he had no especial liking. He was born to make

speeches in political gatherings, and not to argue complicated legal

questions in the courts. All his aspirations were political. As early as

1843 he aspired to be a member of Congress, but was defeated by Colonel

Baker. In 1846, however, his political ambition was gratified by an

election to the House of Representatives. His record in Congress was a

fair one; but he was not distinguished, although great questions were

being discussed in connection with the Mexican War. He made but three

speeches during his term, in the last of which he ridiculed General

Cass's aspiration for the presidency with considerable humor and wit,

which was not lost on his constituents. His career in Congress

terminated in 1848, he not being re-elected.

In the meantime Lincoln married, in 1842, Miss Mary Todd, from

Lexington, Kentucky, a lady of good education and higher social position

than his own, whom he had known for two or three years. As everybody

knows, this marriage did not prove a happy one, and domestic troubles

account, in a measure, for Lincoln's sad and melancholy countenance.

Biographers have devoted more space than is wise to this marriage since

the sorrows of a great man claim but small attention compared with his

public services. Had Lincoln not been an honorable man, it is probable

that the marriage would never have taken place, in view of

incompatibilities of temper which no one saw more clearly than he

himself, and which disenchanted him. The engagement was broken, and

renewed, for, as the matter stood,--the lady being determined and the

lover uncertain,--the only course consistent with Lincoln's honor was to

take the risk of marriage, and devote himself with renewed ardor to his

profession,--to bury his domestic troubles in work, and persistently

avoid all quarrels. And this is all the world need know of this sad

affair, which, though a matter of gossip, never was a scandal. It is

unfortunate for the fame of many great men that we know too much of

their private lives. Mr. Froude, in his desire for historical

impartiality, did no good to the memory of his friend Carlyle. Had the

hero's peculiarities been vices, like those of Byron, the biographer

might have cited them as warnings to abate the ardor of popular idolatry

of genius. If we knew no more of the private failings of Webster than we

do of those of Calhoun or Jefferson Davis, he might never have been

dethroned from the lofty position he occupied, which, as a public

benefactor, he did not deserve to lose.

After his marriage, Lincoln was more devoted to his profession, and

gradually became a good lawyer; but I doubt if he was ever a great one,

like his friend Judge Davis. His law partner and biographer, William H.

Herndon, who became associated with him in 1845, is not particularly

eulogistic as to his legal abilities, although he concedes that he had

many of the qualities of a great lawyer, such as the ability to see

important points, lucidity of statement, and extraordinary logical

power. He did not like to undertake the management of a case which had

not justice and right on its side. He had no method in his business, and

detested mechanical drudgery. He rarely studied law-books, unless in

reference to a case in which he was employed. He was not learned in the

decisions of the higher courts. He was a poor defender of a wrong cause,

but was unappalled by the difficulties of an intricate case; was patient

and painstaking, and not imposed upon by sophistries.

Lincoln's love of truth, for truth's sake, even in such a technical

matter as the law, was remarkable. No important error ever went

undetected by him. His intellectual vision was clear, since he was

rarely swayed by his feelings. As an advocate he was lucid, cold, and

logical, rather than rhetorical or passionate. He had no taste for

platitudes and "glittering generalities." There was nothing mercenary in

his practice, and with rare conscientiousness he measured his charges

by the services rendered, contented if the fees were small. He carried

the strictest honesty into his calling, which greatly added to his

influence. If there was ever an honest lawyer he was doubtless one. Even

in arguing a case, he never misrepresented the evidence of a witness,

and was always candid and fair. He would frequently, against his own

interest, persuade a litigant of the injustice of his case, and induce

him to throw it up. If not the undisputed leader of his circuit, he was

the most beloved. Sometimes he disturbed the court by his droll and

humorous illustrations, which called out irrepressible laughter but

generally he was grave and earnest in matters of importance; and he was

always at home in the courtroom, quiet, collected, and dignified,

awkward as was his figure and his gesticulation.

But it was not as a lawyer that Lincoln was famous. Nor as a public

speaker would he compare with Douglas in eloquence or renown. As a

member of Congress it is not probable that he would ever have taken a

commanding rank, like Clay or Webster or Calhoun, or even like Seward.

His great fame rests on his moral character, his identification with a

great cause, his marvellous ability as a conservative defender of

radical principles, and his no less wonderful tact as a leader of men.

The cause for which he stands was the Antislavery movement, as it grew

into a political necessity rather than as a protest against moral evil.

Although from his youth an antislavery man, Lincoln was not an

Abolitionist in the early days of the slavery agitation. He rather kept

aloof from the discussion, although such writers as Theodore Parker, Dr.

Channing, and Horace Greeley had great charm for him. He was a

politician, and therefore discreet in the avowal of opinions. His turn

of mind was conservative and moderate, and therefore he thought that all

political action should be along the lines established by law under the

Constitution.

But when the Southern leaders, not content with non-interference by

Congress with their favorite institution in their own States, sought to

compel Congress to allow the extension of slavery in the Territories it

controlled, then the indignation of Lincoln burst the bounds, and he

became the leader in his State in opposition to any movement to

establish in national territory that institution "founded on both

injustice and bad policy." Although he was in Congress in 1847-8, his

political career really began about the year 1854, four years after the

death of Calhoun.

As has been shown in previous chapters, the great slavery agitation of

1850, when the whole country was convulsed by discussions and ominous

threats of disunion, was laid at rest for a while by the celebrated

compromise bill which Henry Clay succeeded in passing through Congress.

By the terms of this compromise California was admitted to the Union as

a free State; the Territories of New Mexico and Utah were organized to

come in as States, with or without slavery as their people might

determine when the time should arrive; the domestic slave-trade in the

District of Columbia was abolished; a more stringent fugitive-slave law

was passed; and for the adjustment of State boundaries, which reduced

the positive slave-area in Texas and threw it into the debatable

territory of New Mexico, Texas received ten millions of dollars.

Although this adjustment was not entirely satisfactory to either the

North or the South, the nation settled itself for a period of quiet to

repair the waste and utilize the conquests of the Mexican War. It became

absorbed in the expansion of its commerce, the development of its

manufactures, and the growth of its emigration, all quickened by the

richness of its marvellous new gold-fields,--until, unexpectedly and

suddenly, it found itself once again plunged into political controversy

more distracting and more ominous than the worst it had yet experienced.

For, while calmly accepting the divers political arrangements made for

distant States and Territories, the men of the North, who had fumed and

argued against the passage of the Fugitive-Slave Law, when its

enforcement was attempted in their very presence were altogether

outraged. When the "man-hunters" chased and caught negroes in their

village market-places and city streets, when free men were summoned to

obey that law by helping to seize trembling fugitives and send them back

to worse than death, then they burst forth in a fierce storm of rage

that could not be quieted. The agitation rose and spread; lecturers

thundered; newspapers denounced; great meetings were held; politicians

trembled. And even yet the conservatism of the North was not wholly

inflamed; for political partisanship is in itself a kind of slavery, and

while the Northern Democrats stood squarely with the South, the Northern

Whigs, fearing division and defeat, made strenuous efforts to stand on

both sides, and, admitting slavery to be an "evil," to uphold the

Fugitive-Slave Law because it was a part of the "great compromise." In

Congress and out, in national conventions, and with all the power of the

party press, this view was strenuously advocated; but in 1852 the

Democrats elected Franklin Pierce as President, while the compromising

Whigs were cast out. Webster, the leader of the compromisers, had not

even secured a nomination, but General Scott was the Whig candidate;

while William H. Seward, at the head of the Antislavery Whigs, had at

least the satisfaction of seeing that, amid the dissolving elements of

the Whig party, the antislavery sentiment was gaining strength day by

day. The old issues of tariffs and internal improvements were losing

their vitality, while _Freedom_ and _Slavery_ were the new poles about

which new crystallizations were beginning to form.

But the Compromise of 1850 had loosed from its Pandora's box another

fomenter of trouble, in the idea of leaving to the people of the

Territories the settlement of whether their incoming States should be

slave or free,--the doctrine of "popular sovereignty" as it was called.

The nation had accepted that theory as a makeshift for the emergency of

that day; but slave cultivation had already exhausted much of the

Southern land, and, not content with Utah and New Mexico for their

propagandism, the slaveholders cast envious eyes upon the great

territory of the Northwest, stretching out from the Missouri border,

although it was north of the prohibited line of 36° 30'. And so it came

about that, within four short years after the compromise of 1850, the

unrest of the North under the Fugitive-Slave Law, followed by the

efforts of the South to break down the earlier compromise of 1821, awoke

again with renewed fierceness the slavery agitation, in discussing the

bill for the organization of the Territories of Kansas and Nebraska,--an

immense area, extending from the borders of Missouri, Iowa, and

Minnesota, west to the Rocky Mountains, and from the line of 36° 30'

north to British America.

The mover of the Kansas-Nebraska Bill, Stephen A. Douglas, Senator from

Illinois, a Democrat and a man of remarkable abilities, now came into

prominent notice. He wanted to be President of the United States, and

his popularity, his legal attainments, his congressional services, his

attractive eloquence and skill in debate, marked him out as the rising

man of his party, He was a Vermonter by birth, and like Lincoln had

arisen from nothing,--a self-made man, so talented that the people

called him "the little giant," but nevertheless inferior to the giants

who had led the Senate for twenty years, while equal to them in

ambition, and superior as a wire-pulling politician. He was among those

who at first supposed that the Missouri Compromise of 1821 was a final

settlement, and was hostile to the further agitation of the slavery

question. He was a great believer in "American Destiny," and the

absorption of all North America in one grand confederation, in certain

portions of which slavery should be tolerated. As chairman of the Senate

Committee on Territories he had great influence in opening new routes of

travel, and favored the extension of white settlements, even in

territory which had been given to the Indians.

To further his ambitious aspirations, Douglas began now to court the

favor of Southern leaders, and introduced his famous Kansas-Nebraska

Bill, which was virtually the repeal of the Missouri Compromise,

inasmuch as it opened the vast territories to the north of 36° 30' to

the introduction of slavery if their people should so elect. This the

South needed, to secure what they called the balance of power, but what

was really the preponderance of the Slave States, or at least the

curtailment of the political power of the Free States. In 1854, during

the administration of Franklin Pierce, and under the domination of the

Democratic party, which played into the hands of the Southern leaders,

the compromise which Clay had effected in 1821 was repealed under the

influence of his compromise of 1850, and the slavery question was thus

reopened for political discussion in every State of the Union,--showing

how dangerous it is to compromise principle in shaping a policy.

Popular indignation at the North knew no bounds at this new retrograde

movement. The Whigs uttered protests, while the Free-Soil party, just

coming into notice, composed mainly of moderate antislavery men from

both the old parties, were loud in their denunciations of the

encroachments of the South. Even some leading Democrats opened their

eyes, and joined the rising party. The newspapers, the pulpits, and the

platforms sent forth a united cry of wrath. The Whigs and the

Abolitionists were plainly approaching each other. The year 1854 saw a

continuous and solid political campaign to repress the further spread of

slavery. The Territories being then thrown open, there now began an

intense emulation to people them, on the one hand, with advocates of

slavery, and on the other, with free-soilers. Emigration societies were

founded to assist _bona fide_ settlers, and a great tide of families

poured into Kansas from the Northern States; while the Southern States,

and chiefly Missouri, sent also large numbers of men.

At the South the repeal of the Missouri Compromise was universally

welcomed, and the Southern leaders felt encouragement and exultation.

The South had gained a great victory, aided by Northern Democrats, and

boldly denounced Chase, Hale, Sumner, Seward, and Giddings in the

Congress as incendiaries, plotting to destroy precious rights. A

memorable contest took place in the House of Representatives to prevent

the election of Banks of Massachusetts as Speaker. But the tide was

beginning to turn, and Banks, by a vote of 113 against 104, obtained the

Speakership.

Then followed "border ruffianism" in Kansas, when armed invaders from

Missouri, casting thousands of illegal votes, elected, by fraud and

violence, a legislature favorable to slavery, accompanied with civil

war, in which the most disgraceful outrages were perpetrated, the

central government at Washington being blind and deaf and dumb to it

all. The _bona fide_ settlers in Kansas who were opposed to slavery then

assembled at Topeka, refused to recognize the bogus laws, and framed a

constitution which President Pierce--"a Northern man with Southern

principles," gentlemanly and cultivated, but not strong--pronounced to

be revolutionary. Nor was ruffianism confined to Kansas. In 1856 Charles

Sumner of Massachusetts, one of the most eloquent and forceful

denunciators of all the pro-slavery lawlessness, was attacked at his

desk in the Senate chamber, after an adjournment, and unmercifully

beaten with a heavy cane by Preston Brooks, a member of the House of

Representatives, and nephew of Senator Butler of South Carolina. It took

years for Sumner to recover, while the aristocratic ruffian was

unmolested, and went unpunished; for, though censured by the House and

compelled to resign his seat, he was immediately re-elected by his

constituents.

But this was not all. In that same year the Supreme Court came to the

aid of the South, already supported by the Executive and the Senate. Six

judges out of nine, headed by Chief Justice Taney, pronounced judgment

that slaves, whether fugitive or taken by their masters into the free

States, should be returned to their owners. This celebrated case arose

in Missouri, where a negro named Dred Scott--who had been taken by his

master to States where slavery was prohibited by law, who had, with his

master's consent, married and had children in the free States, and been

brought back to Missouri--sued for his freedom. The local court granted

it; the highest court of the State reversed the decision; and on appeal

to the Supreme Court of the United States the case was twice argued

there, and excited a wide and deep interest. The court might have simply

sent it back, as a matter belonging to the State court to decide; but it

permitted itself to argue the question throughout, and pronounced on the

natural inferiority of the negro, and his legal condition as property,

the competence of the State courts to decide his freedom or slavery, and

the right of slaveholders under the Constitution to control their

property in the free States or Territories, any legislation by Congress

or local legislatures to the contrary notwithstanding. This was the

climax of slavery triumphs. The North and West, at last aroused,

declared in conventions and legislative halls that slavery should

advance no further. The conflict now indeed became "irrepressible."

At this crisis, Abraham Lincoln stepped upon the political stage, and

his great career began.

As a local lawyer, even as a local politician, his work was practically

done. He came forth as an avowed antagonist of Douglas, who was the

strongest man in Illinois, and the leader of the Democratic party in

Congress. He came forth as the champion of the antislavery cause in his

native State, and soon attracted the eyes of the whole nation. His

memorable controversy with Douglas was the turning-point of his life. He

became a statesman, as well as a patriot, broad, lofty, and indignant at

wrongs. Theretofore he had been a conservative Whig, a devoted follower

of Clay. But as soon as the Missouri Compromise was repealed he put

forth his noblest energies in behalf of justice, of right, and

of humanity.

As he was driving one day from a little town in which court had been

held, a brother lawyer said to him, "Lincoln, the time is coming when we

shall either be Abolitionists or Democrats;" to which he replied,

musingly, "When that time comes, my mind is made up, for I believe the

slavery question can never be successfully compromised." And when his

mind was made up, after earnest deliberation, he rarely changed it, and

became as firm as a rock. His convictions were exceedingly strong, and

few influences could shake them. That quiet conversation in his buggy,

in a retired road, with a brother lawyer, was a political baptism. He

had taken his stand on one side of a great question which would rend in

twain the whole country, and make a mighty conflagration, out of whose

fires the truth should come victorious.

The Whig party was now politically dead, and the Republican party

arose, composed of conscientious and independent-minded men from all the

old organizations, not afraid to put principle before party,

conservative and law-abiding, yet deeply aroused on the great

issue of the day, and united against the further extension of

slavery,--organizing with great enthusiasm for a first presidential

campaign in 1856, under Frémont, "the Pathfinder," as their candidate.

They were defeated, and James Buchanan, the Democratic candidate, became

President; but, accepting defeat as a lesson toward victory, they grew

stronger and stronger every day, until at last they swept the country

and secured to the principle "non-extension of slavery" complete

representation in the national government.

Lincoln, who was in 1857 the Republican candidate for United States

Senator from Illinois, while Douglas sought the votes of the Democracy,

first entered the lists against his rival at Springfield, in a speech

attacking that wily politician's position as to the Dred-Scott decision.

He tried to force Douglas to a declaration of the logical consequence of

his position, namely, that, while he upheld the decision as a wise

interpretation of the rights of the slave-owners to hold slaves in the

Territories, yet the people of a Territory, under "the great principle

of Popular Sovereignty" (which was Douglas's chief stock in trade),

could exclude slavery from its limits even before it had formed a State

constitution. "If we succeed in bringing him to this point," he wrote a

friend, "he will say that slavery cannot actually exist in the

Territories unless the people desire it, which will offend the South."

If Douglas did not answer Lincoln's question he would jeopardize his

election as Senator; if he did answer he would offend the South, for his

doctrine of "squatter sovereignty" conflicted not only with the

interests of slavery, but with his defence of the Dred-Scott

decision,--a fact which Lincoln was not slow to point out. Douglas did

answer, and the result was as Lincoln predicted.

The position taken by Lincoln himself in the debate was bold and clear.

Said he, "A house divided against itself cannot stand. I believe this

government cannot endure half-slave and half-free. Either the opponents

of slavery will avert the further spread of it, and place it where the

public mind shall rest in the belief that it is in the course of

ultimate extinction, or its advocates will push it forward till it shall

become alike lawful in all the States,--old as well as new, North as

well as South." When his friends objected that this kind of talk would

defeat him for senatorship, he replied, "But it is _true_ ... I would

rather be defeated with these expressions in my speech held up and

discussed before the people than be victorious without it." He was

defeated: but the debates made his fame national and resulted in his

being president; while the politic Douglas gained the senatorship and

lost the greater prize.

In these famous debates between the leaders, Lincoln proved himself

quite the equal of his antagonist, who was already famous as a trained

and prompt debater. Lincoln canvassed the State. He made in one campaign

as many as fifty speeches. It is impossible, within my narrow limits, to

go into the details of those great debates. In them Lincoln rose above

all technicalities and sophistries, and not only planted himself on

eternal right, but showed marvellous political wisdom. The keynote of

all his utterances was that "a house divided against itself could not

stand." Yet he did not pass beyond the constitutional limit in his

argument: he admitted the right of the South to a fugitive-slave law,

and the right of a Territory to enact slavery for itself on becoming a

State; he favored abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia only

on the request of its inhabitants, and would forward the colonization of

the negroes in Liberia if they wished it and their masters consented. He

was a pronounced antislavery man, but not an Abolitionist, and took with

the great mass of the Northerners a firm stand against the _extension_

of slavery. It was this intuitive perception of the common-sense of the

situation that made him and kept him the remarkable representative of

the Northern people that he was to the very end.

Lincoln gained so much fame from his contest with Douglas that he was,

during the spring of the following year, invited to speak in the Eastern

States; and in the great hall of the Cooper Institute in New York, in

February, 1860, he addressed a magnificent audience presided over by

Bryant the poet. He had made elaborate preparation for this speech,

which was a careful review of the slavery question from the foundation

of the republic to that time, and a masterly analysis of the relative

positions of political parties to it. The address made a deep

impression. The speaker was simply introduced as a distinguished

politician from the West. The speech was a surprise to those who were

familiar with Western oratory. There was no attempt at rhetoric, but the

address was pure logic from beginning to end, like an argument before

the Supreme Court, and exceedingly forcible. The chief point made was

the political necessity of excluding slavery from the Territories. The

orator did not dwell on slavery as a crime, but as a wrong which had

gradually been forced upon the nation, the remedy for which was not in

violent denunciations. He did not abuse the South; he simply pleaded for

harmony in the Republican ranks, and avoided giving offence to extreme

partisans on any side, contending that if slavery could be excluded

from the Territories it would gradually become extinct, as both

unprofitable and unjust. He would tolerate slavery within its present

limits, and even return fugitive slaves to their owners, according to

the laws, but would not extend the evil where it did not at present

exist. As it was a wrong, it must not be perpetuated.

The moderation of this speech, coming from an Illinois politician, did

much to draw attention to him as a possible future candidate for the

presidency, to which, by this time, he undoubtedly aspired. And why not?

He was the leader of his party in Illinois, a great speech-maker, who

had defeated Douglas himself in debate, a shrewd, cool, far-sighted man,

looking to the future rather than the present; and political friends had

already gathered about him as a strong political factor.

Mr. Lincoln after his great speech in New York returned to his home. He

had a few years before given some political speeches in Boston and the

adjacent towns, which were well received, but made no deep

impression,--from no fault of his, but simply because he had not the

right material to work upon, where culture was more in demand than vigor

of intellect.

Indeed, one result of the election of Lincoln, and of the war which

followed, was to open the eyes of Eastern people to the intellect and

intelligence of the West. Western lawyers and politicians might not have

the culture of Sumner, the polished elocution of Everett, the urbanity

of Van Buren, and the courtly manners of Winthrop, but they had

brain-power, a faculty for speech-making, and great political sagacity.

And they were generally more in sympathy with the people, having mostly

sprung from their ranks. Their hard and rugged intellects _told_ on the

floor of Congress, where every one is soon judged according to his

merits, and not according to his clothes. And the East saw that

thereafter political power would centre in the West, and dominate the

whole country,--against which it was useless to complain or rebel,

since, according to all political axioms, the majority will rule, and

ought to rule. And the more the East saw of the leading men of the West,

the more it respected their force of mind, their broad and comprehensive

views, and their fitness for high place under the government.

It was not the people of the United States who called for the nomination

of Lincoln, as in the case of General Jackson. He was not much known

outside of Illinois, except as a skilful debater and stump orator. He

had filled no high office to bring him before the eyes of the nation. He

was not a general covered with military laurels, nor a Senator in

Congress, nor governor of a large State, nor a cabinet officer. No man

had thus far been nominated for President unless he was a military

success, or was in the line of party promotion. Though a party leader in

Illinois, Lincoln was simply a private citizen, with no antecedents

which marked him out for such exalted position. But he was

"available,"--a man who could be trusted, moderate in his views, a Whig

and yet committed to antislavery views, of great logical powers, and

well-informed on all the political issues of the day. He was not likely

to be rash, or impulsive, or hasty, or to stand in the way of political

aspirants. He was eminently a safe man in an approaching crisis, with a

judicial intellect, and above all a man without enemies, whom few

envied, and some laughed at for his grotesque humor and awkward manners.

He was also modest and unpretending, and had the tact to veil his

ambition. In his own State he was exceedingly popular. It was not

strange, therefore, that the Illinois Republican State Convention

nominated him as their presidential candidate, to be supported in the

larger national convention about to assemble.

In May, 1860, the memorable National Republican Convention met in

Chicago, in an immense building called the Wigwam, to select a candidate

for the presidency. Among the prominent Republican leaders were Seward,

Chase, Cameron, Dayton, and Bates. The Eastern people supposed that

Seward would receive the nomination, from his conceded ability, his

political experience, his prominence as an antislavery Whig, and the

prestige of office; but he had enemies, and an unconciliatory

disposition. It soon became evident that he could not carry all the

States. The contest was between Seward, Chase, and Lincoln; and when, on

the third ballot, Lincoln received within a vote and a-half of the

majority, Ohio gave him four votes from Chase, and then delegation after

delegation changed its vote for the victor, and amid great enthusiasm

the nomination became unanimous.

The election followed, and Lincoln, the Republican, received one hundred

and eighty electoral votes; Breckinridge, the Southern Democrat,

seventy-two; Bell, of the Union ticket--the last fragment of the old

Whig party--thirty-nine; and Douglas, of the Northern Democracy, but

twelve. The rail-splitter became President of the United States, and

Senator Hannibal Hamlin, of Maine, Vice President. It was a victory of

ideas. It was the triumph of the North over the South,--of the aroused

conscience and intelligence of the people against bigotry, arrogance,

and wrong. Men and measures in that great contest paled before the

grandeur of everlasting principles. It was not for Lincoln that bonfires

were kindled and cannons roared and bells were rung and huzzas ascended

to heaven, but for the great check given to the slave-power, which,

since the formation of the Constitution, had dominated the nation. The

Republicans did not gain a majority of the popular vote, as the combined

opposing tickets cast 930,170 votes more than they; but their vote was

much larger than that for any other ticket, and gave them a handsome

majority in the electoral college.

Between the election in November, 1860, and the following March, when

Lincoln took the reins of government, several of the Southern States had

already seceded from the Union and had organized a government at

Montgomery. Making the excuse of the election of a "sectional and

minority president," they had put into effect the action for which their

leaders during several months had been secretly preparing. They had

seized nearly all the Federal forts, arsenals, dock-yards,

custom-houses, and post-offices within their limits, while a large

number of the officers of the United States army and navy had resigned,

and entered into their service, on the principle that the authority of

their States was paramount to the Federal power.

Amid all these preparations for war on the part of the seceding States,

and the seizure of Federal property, Buchanan was irresolute and

perplexed. He was doubtless patriotic and honest, but he did not know

what to do. The state of things was much more serious than when South

Carolina threatened to secede in the time of General Jackson. The want

of firmness and decision on the part of the President has been severely

criticised, but it seems to me to have been not without excuse in the

perplexing conditions of the time, while it was certainly fortunate that

he did not precipitate the crisis by sending troops to reinforce Fort

Sumter, in Charleston harbor, which was invested and threatened by South

Carolina troops. The contest was inevitable anyway, and the management

of the war was better in the hands of Lincoln than it could have been in

those of Buchanan, with traitors in his cabinet, or even after they had

left and a new and loyal cabinet was summoned, but with an undecided man

at the head. There was needed a new and stronger government when

hostilities should actually break out.

On the 4th of March, 1861, the inauguration of Lincoln took place, and

well do I remember the ceremony. The day was warm and beautiful, and

nature smiled in mockery of the bloody tragedy which was so soon to

follow. I mingled with the crowd at the eastern portico of the Capitol,

and was so fortunate as to hear and see all that took place,--the high

officials who surrounded the President, his own sad and pensive face,

his awkward but not undignified person arrayed in a faultless suit of

black, the long address he made, the oath of office administered by

Chief Justice Taney, and the dispersion of the civil and military

functionaries to their homes. It was not a great pageant, but was an

impressive gathering. Society, in which the Southern element

predominated, sneered at the tall ruler who had learned so few of its

graces and insincerities, and took but little note of the thunder-clouds

in the political atmosphere,--the distant rumblings which heralded the

approaching storm so soon to break with satanic force.

The inaugural address was not only an earnest appeal for peace, but a

calm and steadfast announcement of the law-abiding policy of the

government, and a putting of the responsibility for any bloodshed upon

those who should resist the law. Two brief paragraphs contain

the whole:--

"The power confided to me will be used to hold, occupy, and possess the

property and places belonging to the government, and to collect the

duties and imposts; but beyond what may be necessary for these objects

there will be no invasion, no use of force among the people anywhere.

"In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow-countrymen, and not in mine, is

the momentous issue of civil war. The government will not assail you.

You can have no conflict without being yourselves the aggressors."

This was the original chart of the course which the President followed,

and his final justification when by use of "the power confided to him"

he had accomplished the complete restoration of the authority of the

Federal Union over all the vast territory which the seceded States had

seized and so desperately tried to control.

Lincoln was judicious and fortunate in his cabinet. Seward, the ablest

and most experienced statesman of the day, accepted the office of

Secretary of State; Salmon P. Chase, who had been governor of Ohio, and

United States Senator, was made Secretary of the Treasury; Gideon

Welles, of great executive ability and untiring energy, became Secretary

of the Navy; Simon Cameron, an influential politician of Pennsylvania,

held the post of Secretary of War for a time, when he was succeeded by

Edwin M. Stanton, a man of immense capacity for work; Montgomery Blair,

a noted antislavery leader, was made Postmaster-General; Caleb B. Smith

became Secretary of the Interior; and Edward Bates, of Missouri,

Attorney-General. Every one of these cabinet ministers was a strong man,

and was found to be greater than he had seemed.

Jefferson Davis, of Mississippi, an old-time Democrat, was elected

President of the Southern Confederacy, and Alexander H. Stephens, a

prominent Whig of Georgia, Vice-President. Davis was born in Kentucky in

1808, and was a graduate of West Point. He was a Congressman on the

outbreak of the Mexican War, resigned his seat, entered the army, and

distinguished himself, rising to the rank of colonel. He was Secretary

of War in President Pierce's cabinet, and Senator from Mississippi on

the accession of President Buchanan,--a position which he held until the

secession of his State. He thus had had considerable military and

political experience. He was a man of great ability, but was proud,

reserved, and cold, "a Democrat by party name, an autocrat in feeling

and sentiment,--a type of the highest Southern culture, and exclusive

Southern caste." To his friends--and they were many, in spite of his

reserve--there was a peculiar charm in his social intercourse; he was

beloved in his family, and his private life was irreproachable. He

selected an able cabinet, among whom were Walker of Alabama, Toombs of

Georgia, and Benjamin of Louisiana. The Provisional Congress authorized

a regular army of ten thousand men, one hundred thousand volunteers, and

a loan of fifteen millions of dollars.

But actual hostilities had not as yet commenced. The Confederates,

during the close of Buchanan's administration, were not without hopes of

a peaceful settlement and recognition of secession, and several

conferences had taken place,--one overture being made even to the new

administration, but of course in vain.

The spark which kindled the conflagration--but little more than a month

after Lincoln's inauguration, April 12, 1861--was the firing on Fort

Sumter, and its surrender to the South Carolinians. This aroused both

the indignation and the military enthusiasm of the North, which in a

single day was, as by a lightning flash, fused in a white heat of

patriotism and a desire to avenge the dishonored flag. For the time all

party lines disappeared, and the whole population were united and solid

in defence of the Union. Both sides now prepared to fight in good

earnest. The sword was drawn, the scabbard thrown away. Both sides were

confident of victory. The Southern leaders were under the delusion that

the Yankees would not fight, and that they cared more for dollars than

for their country. Moreover, the Southern States had long been training

their young men in the military schools, and had for months been

collecting materials of war. As cotton was an acknowledged "king," the

planters calculated on the support of England, which could not do

without their bales. Lastly, they knew that the North had been divided

against itself, and that the Democratic politicians sympathized with

them in reference to slavery. The Federal leaders, on the other hand,

relied on the force of numbers, of wealth, and national prestige. Very

few supposed that the contest would be protracted. Seward thought that

it would not last over three months. Nor did the South think of

conquering the North, but supposed it could secure its own

independence. It certainly was resolved on making a desperate fight to

defend its peculiar institution. As it was generally thought in England

that this attempt would succeed, as England had no special love for the

Union, and as the Union, and not opposition to slavery, was the rallying

cry of the North, England gave to the South its moral support.

Lincoln assumed his burden with great modesty, but with a steady

firmness and determination, and surprised his cabinet by his force of

will. Nicolay and Hay relate an anecdote of great significance. Seward,

who occupied the first place in the cabinet, which he deserved on

account of his experience and abilities, was not altogether pleased with

the slow progress of things, and wrote to Lincoln an extraordinary

letter in less than a month after his inauguration, suggesting more

active operations, with specific memoranda of a proposed policy.

"Whatever policy we adopt," said he, "there must be an energetic

prosecution of it. For this purpose it must be somebody's business to

pursue and direct it incessantly. Either the President must do it

himself, or devolve it on some member of his cabinet. It is not my

especial province; but I neither seek to evade nor assume

responsibility." In brief, it was an intimation, "If you feel not equal

to the emergency, perhaps you can find a man not a thousand miles away

who is equal to it."

Lincoln, in his reply, showed transcendent tact. Although an

inexperienced local politician, suddenly placed at the head of a great

nation, in a tremendous crisis, and surrounded in his cabinet and in

Congress by men of acknowledged expert ability in statecraft, he had his

own ideas, but he needed the counsel and help of these men as well. He

could not afford to part with the services of a man like Seward, nor

would he offend him by any assumption of dignity or resentment at his

unasked advice. He good-naturedly replied, in substance: "The policy

laid down in my inaugural met your distinct approval, and it has thus

far been exactly followed. As to attending to its prosecution, if this

must be done, I must do it, and I wish, and suppose I am entitled to

have, the advice of all the cabinet."

After this, no member of the cabinet dared to attempt to usurp any

authority which belonged to the elected Commander-in-chief of the army

and navy,--unless it were Chase, at a later time. As the head of the

government in whom supreme Federal power was invested in time of war,

Lincoln was willing and eager to consult his cabinet, but reserved his

decisions and assumed all responsibilities. He probably made mistakes,

but who could have done better on the whole? The choice of the nation

was justified by results.

It is not my object in this paper to attempt to compress the political

and military history of the United States during the memorable

administration of Mr. Lincoln. If one wishes to know the details he must

go to the ten octavo biographical volumes of Lincoln's private

secretaries, to the huge and voluminous quarto reports of the

government, to the multifarious books on the war and its actors. I can

only glance at salient points, and even here I must confine myself to

those movements which are intimately connected with the agency and

influence of Lincoln himself. It is his life, and not a history of the

war, that it is my business to present. Nor has the time come for an

impartial and luminous account of the greatest event of modern times.

The jealousy and dissensions of generals, the prejudices of the people

both North and South, the uncertainty and inconsistency of much of the

material published, and the conceit of politicians, alike prevent a

history which will be satisfactory, no matter how gifted and learned may

be the historian. When all the actors of that famous tragedy, both great

and small, have passed away, new light will appear, and poetry will add

her charms to what is now too hideous a reality, glorious as were the

achievements of heroes and statesmen.

After the Battle of Bull Run, July 21, 1861, won by the Confederate

General Beauregard over General McDowell, against all expectation, to

the dismay and indignation of the whole North,--the result of

over-confidence on the part of the Union troops, and a wretchedly

mismanaged affair,--the attention of the Federal government was mainly

directed to the defence of Washington, which might have fallen into the

hands of the enemy had the victors been confident and quick enough to

pursue the advantage they had gained; for nothing could exceed the panic

at the capital after the disastrous defeat of McDowell. The

demoralization of the Union forces was awful. Happily, the condition of

the Confederate troops was not much better.

But the country rallied after the crisis had passed. Lincoln issued his

proclamation for five hundred thousand additional men. Congress

authorized as large a loan as was needed. The governors of the various

States raised regiment after regiment, and sent them to Washington, as

the way through Maryland, at first obstructed by local secessionists,

was now clear, General Butler having intrenched himself at Baltimore.

Most fortunately the governor of Maryland was a Union man, and with the

aid of the Northern forces had repressed the rebellious tendency in

Maryland, which State afterward remained permanently in the Union, and

offered no further resistance to the passage of Federal troops.

Arlington Heights in Virginia, opposite Washington, had already been

fortified by General Scott; but additional defences were made, and the

capital was out of danger.

With the rapid concentration of troops at Washington, the government

again assumed the offensive. General George B. McClellan, having

distinguished himself in West Virginia, was called to Washington, at the

recommendation of the best military authorities, and intrusted with the

command of the Army of the Potomac; and soon after, on the retirement of

General Scott, now aged and infirm, and unable to mount a horse,

McClellan took his place as commander of all the forces of the

United States.

At the beginning of the rebellion McClellan was simply a captain, but

was regarded as one of the most able and accomplished officers of the

army. His promotion was rapid beyond precedent; but his head was turned

by his elevation, and he became arrogant and opinionated, and before

long even insulted the President, and assumed the airs of a national

liberator on whose shoulders was laid the burden of the war. He

consequently estranged Congress, offended Scott, became distrusted by

the President, and provoked the jealousies of the other generals. But he

was popular with the army and his subordinates, and if he offended his

superiors his soldiers were devoted to him, and looked upon him as a

second Napoleon.

The best thing that can be said of this general is that he was a great

organizer, and admirably disciplined for their future encounters the raw

troops which were placed under his command. And he was too prudent to

risk the lives of his men until his preparations were made, although

constantly urged to attempt, if not impossibilities, at least what was

exceedingly hazardous.

It was expected by the President, the Secretary of War, and Congress,

that he would hasten his preparations, and advance upon the enemy, as he

had over one hundred thousand men; and he made grand promises and gave

assurances that he would march speedily upon Richmond. But he did not

march. Delay succeeded delay, under various pretences, to the

disappointment of the country, and the indignation of the responsible

government. It was not till April, 1862, after five months of inaction,

that he was ready to move upon Richmond, and then not according to

pre-arranged plans, but by a longer route, by the way of Fortress

Monroe, up the Peninsula between the York and James rivers, and not

directly across Virginia by Manassas Junction, which had been evacuated

in view of his superior forces,--the largest army theretofore seen on

this continent.

It is not for me, utterly ignorant of military matters, to make any

criticism of the plan of operations, in which the President and

McClellan were at issue, or to censure the general in command for the

long delay, against the expostulations of the Executive and of Congress.

He maintained that his army was not sufficiently drilled, or large

enough for an immediate advance, that the Confederate forces were

greater than his own, and were posted in impregnable positions. He was

always calling for reinforcements, until his army comprised over two

hundred thousand men, and when at last imperatively commanded to move,

some-whither,--at any rate to move,--he left Washington not sufficiently

defended, which necessitated the withdrawal of McDowell's corps from him

to secure the safety of the capital. Without enumerating or describing

the terrible battles on the Peninsula, and the "change of base," which

practically was a retreat, and virtually the confession of failure, it

may be said in defence or palliation of McClellan that it afterwards

took Grant, with still greater forces, and when the Confederates were

weakened and demoralized, a year to do what McClellan was expected to do

in three months.

The war had now been going on for more than a year, without any decisive

results so far as the Army of the Potomac was concerned, but on the

contrary with great disasters and bitter humiliations. The most

prodigious efforts had been made by the Union troops without success,

and thus far the Confederates had the best of it, and were filled with

triumph. As yet no Union generals could be compared with Lee, or

Johnston, or Longstreet, or Stonewall Jackson, while the men under their

command were quite equal to the Northern soldiers in bravery and

discipline.

The times were dark and gloomy at the North, and especially so to the

President, as commander-in-chief of the army and navy, after all the

energies he put forth in the general direction of affairs. He was

maligned and misrepresented and ridiculed; yet he opened not his mouth,

and kept his soul in patience,--magnanimous, forbearing, and modest. In

his manners and conduct, though intrusted with greater powers than any

American before him had ever exercised, he showed no haughtiness, no

resentments, no disdain, but was accessible to everybody who had any

claim on his time, and was as simple and courteous as he had been in a

private station. But what anxieties, what silent grief, what a burden,

had he to bear! And here was his greatness, which endeared him to the

American heart,--that he usurped no authority, offended no one, and

claimed nothing, when most men, armed as he was with almost unlimited

authority, would have been reserved, arrogant, and dictatorial. He did

not even assume the cold dignity which Washington felt it necessary to

put on, but shook hands, told stories, and uttered jokes, as if he were

without office on the prairies of Illinois; yet all the while resolute

in purpose and invincible in spirit,--an impersonation of logical

intellect before which everybody succumbed, as firm, when he saw his way

clear, as Bismarck himself.

His tact in managing men showed his native shrewdness and kindliness, as

well as the value of all his early training in the arts of the

politician. Always ready to listen, and to give men free chance to

relieve their minds in talk, he never directly antagonized their

opinions, but, deftly embodying an argument in an apt joke or story,

would manage to switch them off from their track to his own without

their exactly perceiving the process. His innate courtesy often made him

seem uncertain of his ground, but he probably had his own way quite as

frequently as Andrew Jackson, and without that irascible old

fighter's friction.

But darker days were yet to come, and more perplexing duties had yet to

be discharged. The President was obliged to retire McClellan from his

command when, in August, 1862, that general's procrastination could no

longer be endured. McClellan had made no fatal blunders, was endeared to

his men, and when it was obvious that he could not take Richmond,

although within four miles of it at one time, he had made a successful

and masterly retreat to Harrison's Landing; yet the campaign against the

Confederate capital had been a failure, as many believed, by reason of

unnecessary delays on the part of the commander, and the President had

to take the responsibility of sustaining or removing him. He chose

the latter.

What general would Lincoln select to succeed McClellan? He chose General

John Pope, but not with the powers which had been conferred on

McClellan. Pope had been graduated at West Point in 1842, had served

with distinction in the Mexican War, and had also done good service in

the West. But it was his misfortune at this time to lose the second

battle of Bull Run, or Manassas, when there was no necessity of

lighting. He himself attributed his disaster to the inaction and

disobedience of General Porter, who was cashiered for it,--a verdict

which was reversed by a careful military inquiry after the war. Pope's

defeat was followed, although against the advice of the cabinet, by the

restoration of McClellan, since Washington was again in danger. After he

had put the capital in safety, McClellan advanced slowly against Lee,

who had crossed the Potomac into Maryland with designs on Pennsylvania.

He made his usual complaint of inadequate forces, and exaggerated the

forces of the enemy. He won, however, the battle of Antietam,--for,

although the Confederates afterwards claimed that it was a drawn battle,

they immediately retired,--but even then failed to pursue his advantage,

and allowed Lee to recross the Potomac and escape, to the deep disgust

of everybody and the grief of Lincoln. Encouraged by McClellan's

continued inaction, Lee sent his cavalry under Stuart, who with two

thousand men encircled the Federal army, and made a raid into

Pennsylvania, gathering supplies, and retired again into Virginia,

unhindered and unharmed. The President now deprived McClellan again of

his command, and that general's military career ended. He retired to

private life, emerging again only as an unsuccessful Democratic

candidate for the presidency against Lincoln in 1864.

It was a difficult matter for Lincoln to decide upon a new general to

command the Army of the Potomac. He made choice of Ambrose E. Burnside,

the next in rank,--a man of pleasing address and a gallant soldier, but

not of sufficient abilities for the task imposed upon him. The result

was the greatest military blunder of the whole war. With the idea of

advancing directly upon Richmond through Fredericksburg, Burnside made

the sad error of attacking equal forces strongly intrenched on the

Fredericksburg Heights, while he advanced from the valley of the

Rappahannock below, crossing the river under a plunging fire, and

attacking the enemy on the hill. It was a dismal slaughter, but Burnside

magnanimously took the whole blame upon himself, and was not disgraced,

although removed from his command. He did good service afterwards as a

corps-commander.

It was soon after Burnside's unfortunate failure at Fredericksburg,

perhaps the gloomiest period of the war, when military reverses saddened

the whole North, and dissensions in the cabinet itself added to the

embarrassments of the President, that Lincoln performed the most

momentous act of his life, and probably the most important act of the

whole war, in his final proclamation emancipating the slaves, and

utilizing them in the Union service, as a military necessity.

Ever since the beginning of hostilities had this act been urged upon the

President by the antislavery men of the North,--a body growing more

intense and larger in numbers as the war advanced. But Lincoln remained

steady to his original purpose of _saving the Union,_---whether with or

without slavery. Naturally, and always opposed to slavery, he did not

believe that he had any right to indulge his private feeling in

violation of the Constitutional limitations of his civil power, unless,

as he said, "measures otherwise unconstitutional might become lawful by

becoming indispensable to the preservation of the Constitution through

the preservation of the nation."

Thus when in 1861 Frémont in Missouri proclaimed emancipation to the

slaves of persistent rebels, although this was hailed with delight by

vast numbers at the North, the President countermanded it as not yet an

indispensable necessity. In March, 1862, he approved Acts of Congress

legalizing General B.F. Butler's shrewd device of declaring all slaves

of rebels in arms as "contraband of war," and thus, when they came

within the army lines, to be freed and used by the Northern armies. In

March, May, and July, 1862, he made earnest appeals to the Border States

to favor compensated emancipation, because he foresaw that military

emancipation would become necessary before long. When Lee was in

Maryland and Pennsylvania, he felt that the time had arrived, and

awaited only some marked military success, so that the measure should

seem a mightier blow to the rebels and not a cry for help. And this was

a necessary condition, for, while hundreds of thousands of Democrats had

joined the armies and had become Republicans for the war,--in fact, all

the best generals and a large proportion of the soldiers of the North

had been Democrats before the flag was fired on,--yet the Democratic

politicians of the proslavery type were still alive and active

throughout the North, doing all they could to discredit the national

cause, and hinder the government; and Lincoln intuitively knew that this

act must commend itself to the great mass of the Northern people, or it

would be a colossal blunder.

Therefore, when Lee had been driven back, on September 22, 1862, the

President issued a preliminary proclamation, stating that he should

again recommend Congress to favor an Act tendering pecuniary aid to

slaveholders in States not in rebellion, who would adopt immediate or

gradual abolishment of slavery within their limits; but that on the

first day of January, 1863, "all persons held as slaves within any

State, or designated part of a State, the people whereof shall be in

rebellion against the United States, shall be thenceforward and forever

free." And accordingly,--in spite of Burnside's dreadful disaster before

Fredericksburg on December 13, unfavorable results in the fall elections

throughout the North, much criticism of his course in the

newly-assembled Congress, and the unpopular necessity of more men and

more money to be drawn from the loyal States,--on January 1, 1863, the

courageous leader sent forth his final and peremptory Decree of

Emancipation. He issued it, "by virtue of the power in me vested as

commander-in-chief of the army and navy of the United States in time of

actual armed rebellion against the authority and government of the

United States, and as a fit and necessary war-measure for suppressing

said rebellion."

Of course such an edict would have no immediate force in the remoter

States controlled by the Confederate government, nor at the time did it

produce any remarkable sensation except to arouse bitter animadversion

at the North and renewed desperation of effort at the South; but it

immediately began to reduce the workers on intrenchments and

fortifications along the Confederate front and to increase those of the

Federal forces, while soon also providing actual troops for the Union

armies; and, since it was subsequently indorsed by all the States,

through an amendment to the Constitution by which slavery was forever

prohibited in the States and Territories of the United States, and in

view of its immense consequences, the Emancipation Proclamation of

Lincoln must be regarded as perhaps the culminating event in the war. It

was his own act; and he accepted all the responsibilities. The abolition

of slavery is therefore forever identified with the administration

of Lincoln.

In the early part of 1863 Lincoln relieved Burnside of his command, and

appointed General Joseph Hooker to succeed him. This officer had

distinguished himself as a brilliant tactician; he was known as

"fighting Joe;" but he was rash. He made a bold and successful march,

crossed the Rappahannock and Rapidan rivers and advanced upon the enemy,

but early in May, 1863, was defeated at Chancellorsville, in one of the

bloodiest battles of the war. The Confederates were now exceedingly

elated; and Lee, with a largely increased army of ninety thousand

splendid fighting men, resolved on invading Pennsylvania in force.

Evading Hooker, he passed through the Shenandoah Valley, and about the

middle of June was in Pennsylvania before the Union forces could be

gathered to oppose him. He took York and Carlisle and threatened

Harrisburg. The invasion filled the North with dismay. Hooker, feeling

his incompetency, and on bad terms with Halleck, the general-in-chief,

asked to be relieved, and his request was at once granted.

General George C. Meade was appointed his successor on June 28. Striking

due north with all speed, ably supported by a remarkable group of

corps-commanders and the veteran Army of the Potomac handsomely

reinforced and keenly eager to fight, Meade brought Lee to bay near the

village of Gettysburg, and after three days of terrific fighting, in

which the losses of the two armies aggregated over forty-five thousand

men, on the 3d of July he defeated Lee's army and turned it rapidly

southward. This was the most decisive battle of the war, and the most

bloody, finally lost by Lee through his making the same mistake that

Burnside did at Fredericksburg, in attacking equal forces intrenched on

a hill. Nothing was left to Lee but retreat across the Potomac, and

Meade--an able but not a great captain--made the mistake that McClellan

had made at Antietam in not following up his advantage, but allowing Lee

to escape into Virginia.

To cap the climax of Union success, on the 4th of July General Ulysses

S. Grant, who had been operating against Vicksburg on the Mississippi

during four months, captured that city, with thirty-two thousand

prisoners, and a few days later Port Hudson with its garrison fell into

his hands. The signal combination of victories filled the North with

enthusiasm and the President with profoundest gratitude. It is true,

Meade's failure to follow and capture Lee was a bitter disappointment to

Lincoln. The Confederate commander might have been compelled to

surrender to a flushed and conquering army a third larger than his own,

had Meade pursued and attacked him, and the war might perhaps virtually

have ended. Yet Lee's army was by no means routed, and was in dangerous

mood, while Meade's losses had been really larger than his; so that the

Federal general's caution does not lack military defenders.

Nevertheless, he evidently was not the man that had been sought for.

More than two years had now elapsed since the Army of the Potomac had

been organized by McClellan, and yet it was no nearer the end which the

President, the war minister, the cabinet, and the generals had in

view,--the capture of Richmond. Thus far, more than one hundred thousand

men had been lost in the contest which the politicians had supposed was

to be so brief. Not a single general had arisen at the East equal to the

occasion. Only a few of the generals had seen important military service

before the war, and not one had evinced remarkable abilities, although

many had distinguished themselves for bravery and capacity to manage

well an army corps. Each army commander had failed when great

responsibilities had been imposed upon him. Not one came up to popular

expectation. The great soldier must be "born" as well as "made."

It must be observed that up to this time, in the autumn of 1863, the

President had not only superintended the Army of the Potomac, but had

borne the chief burden of the government and the war at large. Cabinet

meetings, reports of generals, quarrels of generals, dissensions of

political leaders, impertinence of editors, the premature pressure to

emancipate slaves, Western campaigns, the affairs of the navy, and a

thousand other things pressed upon his attention. It was his custom to

follow the movements of every army with the map before him, and to be

perfectly familiar with all the general, and many of the detailed,

problems in every part of the vast field of the war. No man was ever

more overworked. It may be a question how far he was wise in himself

attending to so many details, and in giving directions to generals in

high command, and sometimes against the advice of men more experienced

in military matters. That is not for me to settle. He seemed to bear the

government and all the armies on head and heart, as if the

responsibility for everything was imposed upon him. What had been the

history? In the East, two years clouded by disasters, mistakes, and

national disappointments, with at last a breaking of the day,--and that,

in the West.

Was ever a man more severely tried! And yet, in view of fatal errors on

the part of generals, the disobedience of orders, and the unfriendly

detractions of Chase,--his able, but self-important Secretary of the

Treasury,--not a word of reproach had fallen from him; he was still

gentle, conciliatory, patient, forgiving on all occasions, and

marvellously reticent and self-sustained. His transcendent moral

qualities stood out before the world unquestioned, whatever criticisms

may be made as to the wisdom of all his acts.

But a brighter day was at hand. The disasters of the East--for

Gettysburg was but the retrieving of a desperate situation--were

compensated by great success in the West. Fort Donelson and Columbus in

1862, Vicksburg and Port Hudson in 1863, had been great achievements.

The Mississippi was cleared of hostile forts upon its banks, and was

opened to its mouth. New Orleans was occupied by Union troops. The

finances were in good condition, for Chase had managed that great

problem with brilliant effect. The national credit was restored. The

navy had done wonders, and the southern coast was effectually blockaded.

A war with England had been averted by the tact of Lincoln rather than

the diplomacy of Seward.

Lincoln cordially sustained in his messages to Congress the financial

schemes of the Secretary of the Treasury, and while he carefully

watched, he did not interfere with, the orders of the Secretary of the

Navy. To Farragut, Foote, and Porter was great glory due for opening the

Mississippi, as much as to Grant and Sherman for cutting the Confederate

States in twain. Too much praise cannot be given to Chase for the

restoration of the national credit, and Lincoln bore patiently his

adverse criticism in view of his transcendent services.

At this stage of public affairs, in the latter part of 1863, General

Grant was called from the West to take command of the Army of the

Potomac. His great military abilities were known to the whole nation.

Although a graduate of West Point, who had, when young, done good

service under General Scott, his mature life had been a failure; and

when the war broke out he was engaged in the tanning business at Galena,

Illinois, at a salary of $800. He offered his services to the governor

of Illinois, and was made a colonel of volunteers. Shortly after

entering active service he was made brigadier-general, and his ability

as a commander was soon apparent. He gradually rose to the command of

the military district of Southeast Missouri; then to the command of the

great military rendezvous and depot at Cairo. Then followed his

expedition, assisted by Commodore Foote, against Fort Henry on the

Tennessee River, in the early part of 1862, with no encouragement from

Halleck, the commanding-general at St. Louis. The capture of Fort

Donelson on the Cumberland River came next, to the amazement and chagrin

of the Confederate generals; for which he was made a major-general of

volunteers. This was a great service, which resulted in the surrender of

Generals Buckner and Johnston with 15,000 Confederate soldiers, 20,000

stands of arms, 48 pieces of artillery, and 3,000 horses. But this great

success was nothing to the siege and capture of Vicksburg, July 4, 1863,

which opened the Mississippi and divided the Confederacy, to say nothing

of the surrender of nearly 30,000 men, 172 cannon, and 60,000 muskets.

Then followed the great battle of Chattanooga, which shed glory on

Thomas, Sherman, Burnside, and Hooker, and raised still higher the

military fame of Grant, who had planned and directed it. No general in

the war had approached him in success and ability. The eyes of the

nation were now upon him. Congress revived for him the grade of

lieutenant-general, and the conqueror of Vicksburg and Chattanooga

received the honor on March 3, 1864, the first on whom the full rank had

been conferred since Washington. The lieutenant-generalcy conferred on

Winfield Scott after the Mexican War was a special brevet title of

honor, that rank not existing in our army.

On the 8th of March the President met the successful and fortunate

general for the first time, and was delighted with his quiet modesty; on

the next day he gave him command of all the armies of the United States.

Grant was given to understand that the work assigned to him personally

was the capture of Richmond. But he was left to follow out his own

plans, and march to the Confederate capital by any route he saw fit.

Henceforth the President, feeling full confidence, ceased to concern

himself with the plans of the general commanding the Army of the

Potomac. He did not even ask to know them. All he and the Secretary of

War could do was to forward the plans of the Lieutenant-General, and

provide all the troops he wanted. Lincoln's anxieties of course

remained, and he watched eagerly for news, and was seen often at the war

department till late at night, waiting to learn what Grant was doing;

but Grant was left with the whole military responsibility, because he

was evidently competent for it; the relief to Lincoln must have been

immense. The history of the war, from this time, belongs to the life of

Grant rather than of Lincoln. Suggestions to that successful soldier

from civilians now were like those of the Dutch Deputies when they

undertook to lecture the great Marlborough on the art of war. To bring

the war to a speedy close required the brain and the will and the energy

of a military genius, and the rapid and concentrated efforts of veteran

soldiers, disciplined by experience, and inured to the toils and

dangers of war.

The only great obstacle was the difficulty of enlisting men in what was

now more than ever to be dangerous work. When Grant began his march to

Richmond probably half-a-million of soldiers had perished on each side,

and a national debt had been contracted of over two thousand millions of

dollars. In spite of patriotic calls, in spite of bounties, it became

necessary to draft men into the service,--a compulsory act of power to

be justified only by the exigencies of the country. In no other way

could the requisite number of troops be secured. Multitudes of the

survivors have been subsequently rewarded, at least partially, by

pensions. The pension list, at the close of Harrison's administration in

1892, amounted to a sum greater than Germany annually expends on its

gigantic army. So far as the pensioners are genuinely disabled veterans,

the people make no complaint, appreciating the sacrifices which the

soldiers were compelled to make in the dreadful contest. But so vast a

fund for distribution attracted the inevitable horde of small lawyers

and pension agents, who swelled the lists with multitudes of sham

veterans and able-bodied "cripples," until many eminent ex-soldiers

cried out for a purgation of that which should be a list of honor.

Nor is it disloyal or unpatriotic to shed a tear for the brave but

misguided men whom the Southern leaders led to destruction without any

such recompense for their wounds and hardships,--for the loss of their

property, loss of military prestige, loss of political power, loss of

everything but honor. At first we called them Rebels, and no penalties

were deemed too severe for them to suffer; but later we called them

Confederates, waging war for a cause which they honestly deemed sacred,

and for which they cheerfully offered up their lives,--a monstrous

delusion, indeed, but one for which we ceased to curse them, and soon

learned to forgive, after their cause was lost. Resentment gave place to

pity, and they became like erring brothers, whom it was our duty to

forgive, and in many respects our impulse to admire,--not for their

cause, but for their devotion to it. All this was foreseen and foretold

by Edward Everett during the war, yet there were but few who agreed

with him.

I can devote but little space to the military movements of General Grant

in Virginia until Richmond surrendered and the rebellion collapsed.

There was among the Southerners no contempt of this leader, fresh from

the laurels of Fort Donelson, Vicksburg, and Chattanooga; and the

Confederates put forth almost superhuman efforts to defend their capital

against the scientific strategy of the most successful general of the

war, supported as he was by almost unlimited forces, and the unreserved

confidence of his government.

The new general-in-chief established his headquarters at Culpeper Court

House near the end of March, 1864. His plan of operations was

simple,--to advance against Lee, before proceeding to Richmond, and

defeat his army if possible. Richmond, even if taken, would be

comparatively valueless unless Lee were previously defeated. Grant's

forces were about one hundred and fifty thousand men, and Lee's little

more than half that number, but the latter were intrenched in strong

positions on the interior line. It was Grant's plan to fight whenever an

opportunity was presented,--since he could afford to lose two men to one

of the enemy, and was thus sure to beat in the long run; as a

chess-player, having a superiority of pieces, freely exchanges as he

gets opportunity. There was nothing particularly brilliant in this

policy adopted by Grant, except the great fact that he chose the course

most likely to succeed, whatever might be his losses. Lee at first was

also ready to fight, but after the dreadful slaughter on both sides in

the battles of the Wilderness, Spottsylvania, and Cold Harbor, he

apparently changed his plans. One-third of his forces had melted away;

he saw that he could not afford to take risks, and retreated behind his

defences. Grant, too, had changed his operations, at first directed

against Richmond on the northwest; and, since he found every hill and

wood and morass strongly fortified, he concluded to march on Lee's flank

to the James River, and attack Richmond from the south, after reducing

Petersburg, and destroying the southern railroads by which the

Confederates received most of their supplies.

The Federal commander had all the men he wanted. A large force was under

Butler near Petersburg, and Sheridan had driven out the enemy from the

Valley of the Shenandoah with his magnificent cavalry. Lee was now

cooped up between Fredericksburg and Richmond. He was too great a

general to lead his army into either of these strongholds, where they

might be taken as Pemberton's army was at Vicksburg. He wisely kept the

field, although he would not fight except behind his intrenchments, when

he was absolutely forced by the aggressive foe.

Henceforth, from June, 1864, to the close of the war the operations of

Grant resembled a siege rather than a series of battles. He had lost

over fifty thousand men thus far in his march, and he, too, now became

economical of his soldiers' blood. He complained not, but doggedly

carried out his plans without consulting the government at Washington,

or his own generals. His work was hard and discouraging. He had to fight

his way, step by step, against strong intrenchments,--the only thing to

do, but he had the will and patience to do it. He had ordered an attack

on Petersburg, which must be reduced before he could advance to

Richmond; but the attack had failed, and he now sat down to a regular

siege of that strong and important position. The siege lasted ten

months, when Lee was driven within his inner line of defences, and,

seeing that all was lost, on April 2, 1865, evacuated his position, and

began his retreat to the west, hoping to reach Lynchburg, and after that

effect a junction with Johnston coming up from the south. But his

retreat was cut off near Appomattox, and being entirely surrounded he

had nothing to do but surrender to Grant with his entire army, April 9.

With his surrender, Richmond, of course, fell, and the war was

virtually closed.

Out of the 2,200,000 men who had enlisted on the Union side, 110,000

were killed or mortally wounded, and 250,000 died from other causes. The

expense of the war was $3,250,000,000. The losses of the Confederates

were about three-quarters as much. Of the millions who had enlisted on

both sides, nearly a million of men perished, and over five thousand

millions of dollars were expended, probably a quarter of the whole

capital of the country at that time. So great were the sacrifices made

to preserve the Union,--at the cost of more blood and treasure than have

been spent in any other war in modern times.

I am compelled to omit notices of military movements in other parts of

the Union, especially in the West, where some of the most gallant

actions of the war took place,--the brilliant strategy of Rosecrans, the

signal achievements of Thomas, Sherman's march to the sea, Sheridan's

raids, the naval exploits of Farragut, Porter, and Foote, and other acts

of heroism, as not bearing directly on the life of Lincoln. Of course,

he felt the intensest interest in all the military operations, and bore

an unceasing burden of study and of anxiety, which of itself was a great

strain on all his powers. If anything had gone wrong which he could

remedy, his voice and his hand would have been heard and seen. But

toward the last other things demanded his personal attention, and these

were of great importance. There never had been a time since his

inauguration when he was free from embarrassments, and when his burdens

had not been oppressive.

Among other things, the misunderstanding between him and Secretary

Chase was anything but pleasant, Chase had proved himself the ablest

finance minister that this country had produced after Alexander

Hamilton. He was a man of remarkable dignity, integrity, and patriotism.

He was not vain, but he was conscious both of his services and his

abilities. And he was always inclined to underrate Lincoln, whom he

misunderstood. He also had presidential aspirations. After three years'

successful service he did not like to have his suggestions disregarded,

and was impatient under any interference with his appointments. To say

the least, his relations with the President were strained. Annoyed and

vexed with some appointments of importance, he sent in his resignation,

accompanied with a petulant letter. Lincoln, on its receipt, drove to

the Secretary's house, handed back to him his letter, and persuaded him

to reconsider his resignation. But it is difficult to mend a broken jar.

The same trouble soon again occurred in reference to the appointment in

New York of an assistant-treasurer by Mr. Chase, which the President,

having no confidence in the appointee, could not accept; on which the

Secretary again resigned, and Lincoln at once accepted his resignation,

with these words: "Of all I have said in commendation of your ability

and fidelity, I have nothing to unsay; and yet you and I have reached a

point of mutual embarrassment in our official relations, which it seems

cannot be overcome or longer sustained consistently with the

public service."

Mr. Chase, however, did not long remain unemployed. On the death of

Chief Justice Taney, in October, 1864, Mr. Lincoln appointed him to the

head of the Supreme Court,--showing how little he cherished resentment,

and how desirous he was to select the best men for all responsible

positions, whether he personally liked them or not. Even when an able

man had failed in one place, Lincoln generally found use for his

services in another,--witness the gallant exploits of Burnside, Hooker,

and Meade, after they had retired from the head of the Army of the

Potomac. As a successor to Mr. Chase in the Treasury, the President, to

the amazement of the country, selected Governor Tod of Ohio, who wisely

declined the office. The next choice fell on Senator Wm. Pitt Fessenden,

who reluctantly assumed an office which entailed such heavy

responsibilities and hard work, but who made in it a fine record for

efficiency. It was no slight thing to be obliged to raise one hundred

millions of dollars every month for the expense of the war.

While General Grant lay apparently idle in his trenches before

Petersburg, the presidential election of 1864 took place, and in spite

of the unpopular draft of five hundred thousand men in July, and a

summer and Autumn of severe fighting both East and West, Mr. Lincoln

was elected. There had been active and even acrimonious opposition, but

who could compete with him? At this time his extraordinary fitness for

the highest office in the gift of the nation was generally acknowledged,

and the early prejudices against him had mostly passed away. He neither

sought nor declined the re-election.

His second inaugural address has become historical for its lofty

sentiments and political wisdom. It was universally admired, and his

memorable words sunk into every true American heart. Said he:--

"Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of

war may soon pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the

wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited

toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn by the lash

shall be paid with another drawn by the sword,--as was said three

thousand years ago, so still it must be said, 'The judgments of the Lord

are true and righteous altogether.'" And, as showing his earnest

conscientiousness, these familiar words: "With malice toward none, with

charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the

right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the

nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and

for his widow and orphans; to do all which may achieve and cherish a

just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations." The

eloquence of this is surpassed only by his own short speech at the

dedication of the National Cemetery at Gettysburg, November 19, 1863,

which threw into the shade the rhetoric of the greatest orator of his

time, and stands--unstudied as it was--probably the most complete and

effective utterance known in this century.

That immortal inaugural address, in March, 1865;--so simple and yet so

eloquent, expresses two things in Mr. Lincoln's character to be

especially noted: first, the tenderness and compassion, blended with

stern energy and iron firmness of will, which shrank from bloodshed and

violence, yet counted any sacrifice of blood and treasure as of little

account in comparison with the transcendent blessing of national union

and liberty; and, secondly, the change which it would appear gradually

took place in his mind in reference to Divine supervision in the affairs

of men and nations.

I need not dwell on the first, since nothing is more unquestionable than

his abhorrence of all unnecessary bloodshed, or of anything like

vengeance, or punishment of enemies, whether personal or political. His

leniency and forgiveness were so great as to be denounced by some of his

best friends, and by all political fanatics. And this leniency and

forgiveness were the more remarkable, since he was not demonstrative in

his affections and friendships. From his judicial temper, and the

ascendency of his intellectual faculties over passion and interest, he

was apparently cold in his nature, and impassive in view of all passing

events, to such a degree that his humanity seemed to be based on a

philosophy very much akin to that of Marcus Aurelius. His sympathies

were keen, however, and many a distressed woman had cause for gratitude

to him for interference with the stern processes of army discipline in

time of war, much to the indignation of the civil or military martinets.

In regard to the change in his religious views, this fact is more

questionable, but attested by all who knew him, and by most of his

biographers. As a lawyer in Springfield his religious views, according

to his partner and biographer Herndon, were extremely liberal, verging

upon those advanced theories which Volney and Thomas Paine advocated,

even upon atheism itself. As he grew older he became more discreet as to

the expression of his religious opinions. Judge Davis, who knew him

well, affirms that he had no faith, in the Christian sense, but only in

laws, principles, cause and effect,--that is, he had no belief in a

personal God. No religion seemed to find favor with him except that of a

practical and rationalistic order. He never joined a church, and was

sceptical of the divine origin of the Bible, still more of what is

called providential agency in this world. But when the tremendous

responsibilities of his office began to press upon his mind, and the

terrible calamities he deplored, but could not avert, stirred up his

soul in anguish and sadness, then the recognition of the need of

assistance higher than that of man, for the guidance of this great

nation in its unparalleled trials, became apparent in all his

utterances. When he said, "as God gives us to see the right," he meant,

if he meant anything, that wisdom to act in trying circumstances is a

gift, distinct from what is ordinarily learned from experience or study.

This gift, we believe, he earnestly sought.

It must have been a profound satisfaction to Mr. Lincoln that he lived

to see the total collapse of the rebellion,--the fall of Richmond, the

surrender of Lee, and the flight of Jefferson Davis,--the complete

triumph of the cause which it was intrusted to him to guard. How happy

he must have been to see that the choice he made of a general-in-chief

in the person of Ulysses Grant had brought the war to a successful

close, whatever the sacrifices which this great general found it

necessary to make to win ultimate success! What a wonder it is that Mr.

Lincoln, surrounded with so many dangers and so many enemies, should

have lived to see the completion of the work for which he was raised up!

No life of ease or luxury or exultation did he lead after he was

inaugurated,--having not even time to visit the places where his earlier

life was passed; for him there were no triumphal visits to New York and

Boston,--no great ovations anywhere; his great office brought him only

hard and unceasing toil, which taxed all his energies.

It was while seeking a momentary relaxation from his cares and duties,

but a few weeks after his second inauguration, that he met his fate at

the hands of the assassin, from peril of whose murderous designs no

great actor on the scene of mortal strife and labor can be said to be

free. All that a grateful and sorrowing nation could do was done in

honor of his services and character. His remains were carried across the

land to their last resting-place in Illinois, through our largest

cities, with a funeral pageantry unexampled in the history of nations;

and ever since, orators have exhausted language in their encomiums of

his greatness and glory.

Some think that Lincoln died fortunately for his fame,--that had he

lived he might have made mistakes, especially in the work of

reconstruction, which would have seriously affected his claim as a great

national benefactor.

On the other hand, had he lived, he might have put the work of

reconstruction on a basis which would have added to his great services

to the country. The South had no better friend than he, and he was

incapable of animosity or revenge. Certain it is that this work of

reconstruction requires even yet the greatest patriotism and a

marvellous political wisdom. The terrible fact that five millions of

free negroes are yet doomed to ignorance, while even the more

intelligent and industrious have failed to realize the ideals of

citizenship, makes the negro question still one of paramount importance

in the South. The great question whether they shall enjoy the right of

suffrage seems to be disposed of for the present; but the greater

problem of their education must be solved. The subject is receiving most

serious consideration, and encouraging progress is already making in the

direction of their general and industrial training: but they are fast

increasing; their labor is a necessity; and they must be educated to

citizenship, both in mind and in morals, or the fairest portion of our

country will find their presence a continuous menace to peace and

prosperity.

These questions it was not given to Mr. Lincoln to consider. He died

prematurely as a martyr. Nothing consecrates a human memory like

martyrdom. Nothing so effectually ends all jealousies, animosities, and

prejudices as the assassin's dagger. If Caesar had not been assassinated

it is doubtful if even he, the greatest man of all antiquity, could have

bequeathed universal empire to his heirs. Lincoln's death unnerved the

strongest mind, and touched the heart of the nation with undissembled

sadness and pity. From that time no one has dared to write anything

derogatory to his greatness. That he was a very great man no one now

questions.

It is impossible, however, for any one yet to set him in the historical

place, which, as an immortal benefactor, he is destined to occupy. All

speculation as to his comparative rank is worse than useless. Time

effects wonderful changes in human opinions. There are some people in

these days who affect to regard Washington as commonplace, as the

lawyers of Edinburgh at one time regarded Sir Walter Scott, because he

made no effort to be brilliant in after-dinner speeches. There are

others who, in the warmth of their innocent enthusiasm, think that

Lincoln's fame will go on increasing until, in the whole Eastern world,

among the mountains of Thibet, on the shores of China and Japan, among

the jungles of India, in the wilds of darkest Africa, in the furthermost

islands of the sea, his praises will be sung as second to no political

benefactor that the world has seen. As all exaggerations provoke

antagonism, it is wisest not to compare him with any national idols, but

leave him to the undisputed verdict of the best judges, that lie was one

of the few immortals who will live in a nation's heart and the world's

esteem from age to age. Is this not fame enough for a modest man, who

felt his inferiority, in many respects, to those to whom he himself

intrusted power?

Lincoln's character is difficult to read, from its many-sided aspects.

He rarely revealed to the same person more than a single side. His

individuality was marvellous. "Let us take him," in the words of his

latest good biographer, "as simply Abraham Lincoln, singular and

solitary as we all see that he was. Let us be thankful if we can make a

niche big enough for him among the world's heroes without worrying

ourselves about the proportion it may bear to other niches; and there

let him remain forever, lonely, as in his strong lifetime, impressive,

mysterious, unmeasured, and unsolved."

One thing may be confidently affirmed of this man,--that he stands as a

notable exemplar, in the highest grade, of the American of this

century,--the natural development of the self-reliant English stock upon

our continent. Lowell, in his "Commemoration Ode," has set forth

Lincoln's greatness and this fine representative quality of his, in

words that may well conclude our study of the man and of the first full

epoch of American life:--

"Here was a type of the true elder race,

And one of Plutarch's men talked with us face to face.

I praise him not; it were too late;

And some innative weakness there must be

In him who condescends to victory

Such as the Present gives, and cannot wait,

Safe in himself as in a fate.

So always firmly he:

He knew to bide his time,

And can his fame abide,

Still patient in his simple faith sublime,

Till the wise years decide.

Great captains, with their guns and drums,

Disturb our judgment for the hour,

But at last silence comes;

These all are gone, and, standing like a tower,

Our children shall behold his fame,

The kindly earnest, brave, foreseeing man,

Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame,

New birth of our new soil, the first American."