THE REPUBLICAN PARTY AND ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
The time had now come for the formation of a new political party, and
in this Carleton had a hand, being at the first meeting and making the
acquaintance of the leading men, Henry Wilson, Anson Burlingame,
George S. Boutwell, N. P. Banks, Charles Sumner, and others. His
connection with the press brought him into personal contact with men
of all parties. He found Edward Everett more sensitive to criticism
than any other public man.
In 1856 Carleton was offered a position on the _Atlas_, which had been
the leading Whig paper in Massachusetts. He attended the first great
Republican gathering ever held in Maine, at Portland, at which
Hannibal Hamlin, Benjamin Wade, and N. P. Banks were speakers. On the
night of the Maine election, which was held in August, as the returns,
which gave the first great victory of the Republican party in the
Fremont campaign, thrilled the young editor, he wrote a head-line
which was copied all over the country,--"Behold How Brightly Breaks
the Morning."
In Malden, where he was then residing, a Fremont Club was formed.
Carleton wrote a song, to the melody "Suoni La Tromba," from one of
the operas then much admired, which was sung by the glee men in the
club. Political enthusiasm rose to fever heat. In the columns of the
_Atlas_ are many editorials which came seething hot from Carleton's
brain, during the campaign which elevated Mr. James Buchanan to the
presidency.
When the storm of politics had subsided, Carleton wrote a series of
articles for an educational periodical, _The Student and Schoolmate_.
Inspired by his attendance on the meetings of the American Association
for the Advancement of Science, he penned a series of astronomical
articles for _The Congregationalist_. He also attended the opening of
the Grand Trunk railroad from Montreal to Toronto, celebrated by a
grand jubilee at Montreal. During the winter, when Elihu Burritt, the
learned blacksmith, failed to appear on the lecture platform,
Carleton was called upon at short notice to give his lecture entitled
"The Savage and the Citizen."
He was welcomed with applause, which he half suspected was in
derision. At the end, he received ten dollars and a vote of thanks.
The lecture system was then just beginning, and its bright stars,
Phillips, Holmes, Whipple, Beecher, Gough, and Curtis were then
mounting the zenith.
Carleton made another trip West in 1857, seeing the Mississippi, when
the railway was completed from Cincinnati to St. Louis. When the crowd
was near degenerating into a drunken mob,--the native wine of Missouri
being served free to everybody,--the committee in charge cut off the
supply of drink, and thus saved a riot. From St. Louis he went to
Liverpool, on the Illinois River, to see about his land affairs. He
enjoyed hugely the strange frontier scenes, meals in log cabins, and
the trial of a case in court, which was in a schoolroom lighted by two
tallow candles.
The Boston _Atlas_, unable to hold up the world, had summoned the
_Bee_ to its aid, yet did not even then stand on a paying basis.
Finally it became absorbed in the Boston _Traveller_. Carleton again
entered the service of the Boston _Journal_ as reporter. Yet life was
a hard struggle. Through the years 1857, 1858, 1859, Carleton was
floating around among the newspapers getting a precarious
living,--hardly a living. He wrote a few stories for _Putnam's
Magazine_, for one of which he was paid ten dollars. One of the bright
spots in this period of uncertainty was his attendance, at Springfield
and Newport, upon the meetings of the American Association for the
Advancement of Science. He also became more or less acquainted with
men who were afterwards governors of Massachusetts, or United States
senators, with John Brown and Stephen A. Douglas.
The political campaign which resulted in the election of Abraham
Lincoln to the presidency is described in Mr. Coffin's own words:
"During the winter of 1859, George W. Gage, proprietor of the Tremont
House at Chicago, visited Boston. I had known him many years. Being
from the West, I asked him who he thought would be acceptable to the
Republicans of the West as candidate for the presidency. The names
prominently before the country were those of W. H. Seward, S. P.
Chase, Edward Bates, and J. C. Fremont.
"'We shall elect whomsoever we nominate,' said Mr. Gage. 'The
Democratic party is going to split. The Northern and Western Democrats
will go for Douglas. The slaveholders never will accept him. The Whig
party is but a fragment. There will certainly be three, if not four
candidates, and the Republican party can win. We think a good deal of
old Abe Lincoln. He would make a strong candidate.'
"It was the first time I had heard the name of Lincoln in connection
with the presidency. I knew there was such a man. Being a journalist,
I had some knowledge of his debate with Douglas on the great questions
of the day, but he had been defeated in his canvass for the Senate,
and had dropped out of sight. It was about this time that he gave his
lecture at Cooper Institute, New Haven, and Norwich. I did not meet
him in Boston. His coming created no excitement. The aristocracy of
Boston, including Robert C. Winthrop, Edward Everett, George S.
Hilliard, and that class, were Whigs, who did not see the trend of
events. Lincoln came and went, having little recognition. The
sentiment of Massachusetts Republicans was all in favor of the
nomination of Seward.
"The remark of Mr. Gage in regard to Lincoln set me to thinking upon
the probable outcome of the presidential contest. The enthusiasm of
the Republican party was at fever heat. The party had nearly succeeded
in 1856, under Fremont, and the evidences of success in 1860
multiplied, as the days for nominating a candidate approached. The
disruption of the Democratic party at Charleston made the election of
the Republican candidate certain.
"I determined to attend the Convention to be held at Chicago, and also
that of the Whig party, to be held earlier at Baltimore.
"I visited Washington and made the acquaintance of many of the leading
Republican members of Congress. Senator Wilson gave me a seat on one
of the sofas in the south chamber. He was sitting by my side when
Seward appeared. He stopped a moment in the passage, and leaned
against the wall.
"'There is our next President,' said Wilson. 'He feels that he is to
be nominated and elected. He shows it.'
"It was evident that Mr. Seward was conscious of the expected honor.
It did not display itself in haughty actions, but in a fitting air of
dignity. He knew the galleries were looking down upon him, men were
pointing him out, nodding their heads. He was the coming man."
The Whig Convention in Baltimore, which Carleton attended, "was held
in an old church from which the worshippers had departed,--a fitting
place to hold it. The people had left the Whig party, which had
departed from its principles and was ready to compromise still further
in slavery."
On leaving Baltimore for Chicago, and conversing with people
everywhere, Carleton discovered in Pennsylvania a hostility to Seward
which he had not found elsewhere. It was geographical antagonism, New
York glorying in being the Empire State, and Pennsylvania in being the
Keystone of the arch. "Pennsylvania could not endure the thought of
having New York lead the procession." Arriving in Chicago several
days before the Convention opened, Carleton noticed a growing
disposition to take a Western man. The contest was to be between
Seward and Lincoln. On the second day the New York crowd tried to make
a tremendous impression with bands and banners. Entering the building,
they found it packed with the friends of Lincoln. Carleton sat at a
table next to Thurlow Weed. "When the drawn ballot was taken, Weed,
pale and excited, thrust his thumbs into his eyes to keep back the
tears."
Mr. Coffin must tell the rest of the story:
"I accompanied the committee to Springfield to notify Lincoln of his
nomination. Ashman, the president of the committee, W. D. Kelly, of
Pennsylvania, Amos Jack, of New Hampshire, Sweet, of Chicago, and
others made up the party. We went down the Illinois Central. It was a
hot, dusty ride. Reached Springfield early in the evening. Had supper
at the hotel and then called on Lincoln. His two youngest boys were on
the fence in front of the house, chaffing some Democratic urchins in
the street. A Douglas meeting was going on in the State House,
addressed, as I learned, by A. McClernand,--afterwards major-general.
Lincoln stood in the parlor, dressed in black frock coat. Ashman made
the formal announcement. Lincoln's reply was brief. He was much
constrained, but as soon as the last word was spoken he turned to
Kelly and said:
"'Judge, you are a pretty tall man. How tall are you?'
"'Six feet two.'
"'I beat you. I'm six feet three without my high-heeled boots on.'
"'Pennsylvania bows to Illinois, where we have been told there were
only Little Giants,' said Kelly, gracefully alluding to Douglas, who
was called the Little Giant.
"One by one we were introduced by Mr. Ashman. After the hand-shaking
was over, Mr. Lincoln said:
"'Mrs. Lincoln will be pleased to see you gentlemen in the adjoining
room, where you will find some refreshments.'
"We passed into the room and were presented to Mrs. Lincoln. Her
personal appearance was not remarkably prepossessing. The prevailing
fashion of the times was a gown of voluminous proportions, over an
enormous hoop. The corsage was cut somewhat low, revealing plump
shoulders and bust. She wore golden bracelets. Her hair was combed low
about the ears. She evidently was much gratified over the nomination,
but was perfectly ladylike in her deportment.
"The only sign of refreshments visible was a white earthen pitcher
filled with ice-water. Probably it was Mr. Lincoln's little joke, for
the next morning I learned that his Republican neighbors had offered
to furnish wines and liquor, but he would not allow them in the house;
that his Democratic friends also sent round baskets of champagne,
which he would not accept.
"I met him the next morning in his law office, also his secretary, J.
G. Nicolay. It was a large, square room, with a plain pine table,
splint-bottomed chairs, law books in a case, and several bushels of
newspapers and pamphlets dumped in one corner. It had a general air of
untidiness.
"During the campaign I reported many meetings for the Boston
_Journal_, and was made night editor soon after Mr. Lincoln's
election. The position was very laborious and exacting. It was the
period of secession. Through the live-long night, till nearly 3 A. M.,
I sat at my desk editing the exciting news. The reporters usually left
the room about eleven, and from that time to the hour of going to
press, I was alone,--save the company of two mice that became so
friendly that they would sit on my desk, and make a supper of crackers
and cheese, which I doled out to them. I remember them with much
pleasure.
"The exacting labors and sleepless nights told upon my health. The
disturbed state of the country made everybody in business very
cautious, so much so that the proprietor of the _Journal_, Charles A.
Rogers, began to discharge his employees, and I was informed that my
services were no longer needed. I had been receiving the magnificent
sum of ten dollars per week, and this princely revenue ceased."
After President Lincoln had been inaugurated, Mr. Coffin went to
Washington, during the last week in March. His experiences there must
be told by himself:
"I took lodgings at a private boardinghouse on Pennsylvania Avenue,
where there was a poverty-stricken Virginian, of the old Whig school,
after an office. He did 'not think his State would secede.' I saw much
of the Republican members of Congress, who said if I wanted a position
they would do what they could for me. Senator Sumner suggested that I
would make a good secretary of one of the Western territories.
"I called upon my old schoolmate Sargeant who had been for many years
in the Treasury. Having constructed the telegraph fire-alarm, and done
something in engineering, I thought I was competent to become an
examiner in the patent office. I made out an application, which was
signed by the entire Massachusetts delegation, recommending me. I
dropped it into the post-office, and that was the last I saw or even
thought of it, for the great crisis in the history of the country was
so rapidly approaching, and so evident, that,--newspaper man as I
was,--accustomed to forecast coming events, I could see what many
others could not see.
"I was walking with Senator Wilson up E Street, on a bright moonlight
night. The moon's rays, falling upon the unfinished dome of the
Capitol, brought the building out in bold relief."
"'Will it ever be finished?' I asked. The senator stopped, and gazed
upon it a moment in silence.
"'We are going to have a war, but the people of this country will not
give up the Union, I think. Yet, to-day, that building, prospectively,
is a pile of worthless marble.'"
[Illustration: Yours truly Charles Carleton Coffin]