antagonist than each now met in the other. Douglas was by far the most
conspicuous member of his party. His admirers had dubbed him "the Little
Giant," contrasting in that nickname the greatness of his mind with the
smallness of his body. But though of low stature, his broad-shouldered
figure appeared uncommonly sturdy, and there was something lion-like in
the squareness of his brow and jaw, and in the defiant shake of his long
hair. His loud and persistent advocacy of territorial expansion, in the
name of patriotism and "manifest destiny," had given him an enthusiastic
following among the young and ardent. Great natural parts, a highly
combative temperament, and long training had made him a debater
unsurpassed in a Senate filled with able men. He could be as forceful in
his appeals to patriotic feelings as he was fierce in denunciation and
thoroughly skilled in all the baser tricks of parliamentary pugilism.
While genial and rollicking in his social intercourse--the idol of the
"boys" he felt himself one of the most renowned statesmen of his time,
and would frequently meet his opponents with an overbearing haughtiness,
as persons more to be pitied than to be feared. In his speech opening
the campaign of 1858, he spoke of Lincoln, whom the Republicans had
dared to advance as their candidate for "his" place in the Senate, with
an air of patronizing if not contemptuous condescension, as "a kind,
amiable, and intelligent gentleman and a good citizen." The Little Giant
would have been pleased to pass off his antagonist as a tall dwarf. He
knew Lincoln too well, however, to indulge himself seriously in such a
delusion. But the political situation was at that moment in a curious
tangle, and Douglas could expect to derive from the confusion great
advantage over his opponent.
By the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, opening the Territories to the
ingress of slavery, Douglas had pleased the South, but greatly alarmed
the North. He had sought to conciliate Northern sentiment by appending
to his Kansas-Nebraska Bill the declaration that its intent was "not
to legislate slavery into any State or Territory, nor to exclude it
therefrom, but to leave the people thereof perfectly free to form
and regulate their institutions in their own way, subject only to the
Constitution of the United States." This he called "the great principle
of popular sovereignty." When asked whether, under this act, the people
of a Territory, before its admission as a State, would have the right
to exclude slavery, he answered, "That is a question for the courts
to decide." Then came the famous "Dred Scott decision," in which the
Supreme Court held substantially that the right to hold slaves
as property existed in the Territories by virtue of the Federal
Constitution, and that this right could not be denied by any act of a
territorial government. This, of course, denied the right of the people
of any Territory to exclude slavery while they were in a territorial
condition, and it alarmed the Northern people still more. Douglas
recognized the binding force of the decision of the Supreme Court, at
the same time maintaining, most illogically, that his great principle
of popular sovereignty remained in force nevertheless. Meanwhile, the
proslavery people of western Missouri, the so-called "border ruffians,"
had invaded Kansas, set up a constitutional convention, made
a constitution of an extreme pro-slavery type, the "Lecompton
Constitution," refused to submit it fairly to a vote of the people of
Kansas, and then referred it to Congress for acceptance,--seeking thus
to accomplish the admission of Kansas as a slave State. Had Douglas
supported such a scheme, he would have lost all foothold in the North.
In the name of popular sovereignty he loudly declared his opposition to
the acceptance of any constitution not sanctioned by a formal popular
vote. He "did not care," he said, "whether slavery be voted up or down,"
but there must be a fair vote of the people. Thus he drew upon himself
the hostility of the Buchanan administration, which was controlled by
the proslavery interest, but he saved his Northern following. More
than this, not only did his Democratic admirers now call him "the true
champion of freedom," but even some Republicans of large influence,
prominent among them Horace Greeley, sympathizing with Douglas in his
fight against the Lecompton Constitution, and hoping to detach him
permanently from the proslavery interest and to force a lasting breach
in the Democratic party, seriously advised the Republicans of Illinois
to give up their opposition to Douglas, and to help re-elect him to the
Senate. Lincoln was not of that opinion. He believed that great popular
movements can succeed only when guided by their faithful friends, and
that the antislavery cause could not safely be entrusted to the keeping
of one who "did not care whether slavery be voted up or down." This
opinion prevailed in Illinois; but the influences within the Republican
party over which it prevailed yielded only a reluctant acquiescence, if
they acquiesced at all, after having materially strengthened Douglas's
position. Such was the situation of things when the campaign of 1858
between Lincoln and Douglas began.
Lincoln opened the campaign on his side at the convention which
nominated him as the Republican candidate for the senatorship, with
a memorable saying which sounded like a shout from the watchtower of
history: "A house divided against itself cannot stand. I believe this
government cannot endure permanently half slave and half free. I do not
expect the Union to be dissolved. I do not expect the house to fall, but
I expect it will cease to be divided. It will become all one thing or
all the other. Either the opponents of slavery will arrest 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." Then he proceeded
to point out that the Nebraska doctrine combined with the Dred Scott
decision worked in the direction of making the nation "all slave." Here
was the "irrepressible conflict" spoken of by Seward a short time later,
in a speech made famous mainly by that phrase. If there was any new
discovery in it, the right of priority was Lincoln's. This utterance
proved not only his statesmanlike conception of the issue, but also,
in his situation as a candidate, the firmness of his moral courage.
The friends to whom he had read the draught of this speech before he
delivered it warned him anxiously that its delivery might be fatal to
his success in the election. This was shrewd advice, in the ordinary
sense. While a slaveholder could threaten disunion with impunity, the
mere suggestion that the existence of slavery was incompatible with
freedom in the Union would hazard the political chances of any public
man in the North. But Lincoln was inflexible. "It is true," said he,
"and I will deliver it as written.... I would rather be defeated with
these expressions in my speech held up and discussed before the people
than be victorious without them." The statesman was right in his
far-seeing judgment and his conscientious statement of the truth, but
the practical politicians were also right in their prediction of the
immediate effect. Douglas instantly seized upon the declaration that a
house divided against itself cannot stand as the main objective point of
his attack, interpreting it as an incitement to a "relentless sectional
war," and there is no doubt that the persistent reiteration of this
charge served to frighten not a few timid souls.
Lincoln constantly endeavored to bring the moral and philosophical side
of the subject to the foreground. "Slavery is wrong" was the keynote of
all his speeches. To Douglas's glittering sophism that the right of the
people of a Territory to have slavery or not, as they might desire, was
in accordance with the principle of true popular sovereignty, he made
the pointed answer: "Then true popular sovereignty, according to Senator
Douglas, means that, when one man makes another man his slave, no
third man shall be allowed to object." To Douglas's argument that
the principle which demanded that the people of a Territory should be
permitted to choose whether they would have slavery or not "originated
when God made man, and placed good and evil before him, allowing him
to choose upon his own responsibility," Lincoln solemnly replied: "No;
God--did not place good and evil before man, telling him to make his
choice. On the contrary, God did tell him there was one tree of the
fruit of which he should not eat, upon pain of death." He did not,
however, place himself on the most advanced ground taken by the radical
anti-slavery men. He admitted that, under the Constitution, "the
Southern people were entitled to a Congressional fugitive slave law,"
although he did not approve the fugitive slave law then existing. He
declared also that, if slavery were kept out of the Territories during
their territorial existence, as it should be, and if then the people of
any Territory, having a fair chance and a clear field, should do such
an extraordinary thing as to adopt a slave constitution, uninfluenced by
the actual presence of the institution among them, he saw no alternative
but to admit such a Territory into the Union. He declared further that,
while he should be exceedingly glad to see slavery abolished in the
District of Columbia, he would, as a member of Congress, with his
present views, not endeavor to bring on that abolition except on
condition that emancipation be gradual, that it be approved by the
decision of a majority of voters in the District, and that compensation
be made to unwilling owners. On every available occasion, he pronounced
himself in favor of the deportation and colonization of the blacks, of
course with their consent. He repeatedly disavowed any wish on his part
to have social and political equality established between whites and
blacks. On this point he summed up his views in a reply to Douglas's
assertion that the Declaration of Independence, in speaking of all men
as being created equal, did not include the negroes, saying: "I do not
understand the Declaration of Independence to mean that all men were
created equal in all respects. They are not equal in color. But I
believe that it does mean to declare that all men are equal in some
respects; they are equal in their right to life, liberty, and the
pursuit of happiness."
With regard to some of these subjects Lincoln modified his position at
a later period, and it has been suggested that he would have professed
more advanced principles in his debates with Douglas, had he not feared
thereby to lose votes. This view can hardly be sustained. Lincoln had
the courage of his opinions, but he was not a radical. The man who
risked his election by delivering, against the urgent protest of his
friends, the speech about "the house divided against itself" would not
have shrunk from the expression of more extreme views, had he really
entertained them. It is only fair to assume that he said what at the
time he really thought, and that if, subsequently, his opinions changed,
it was owing to new conceptions of good policy and of duty brought
forth by an entirely new set of circumstances and exigencies. It
is characteristic that he continued to adhere to the impracticable
colonization plan even after the Emancipation Proclamation had already
been issued.
But in this contest Lincoln proved himself not only a debater, but
also a political strategist of the first order. The "kind, amiable, and
intelligent gentleman," as Douglas had been pleased to call him, was by
no means as harmless as a dove. He possessed an uncommon share of that
worldly shrewdness which not seldom goes with genuine simplicity of
character; and the political experience gathered in the Legislature
and in Congress, and in many election campaigns, added to his keen
intuitions, had made him as far-sighted a judge of the probable effects
of a public man's sayings or doings upon the popular mind, and as
accurate a calculator in estimating political chances and forecasting
results, as could be found among the party managers in Illinois. And
now he perceived keenly the ugly dilemma in which Douglas found himself,
between the Dred Scott decision, which declared the right to hold slaves
to exist in the Territories by virtue of the Federal Constitution, and
his "great principle of popular sovereignty," according to which the
people of a Territory, if they saw fit, were to have the right to
exclude slavery therefrom. Douglas was twisting and squirming to
the best of his ability to avoid the admission that the two were
incompatible. The question then presented itself if it would be good
policy for Lincoln to force Douglas to a clear expression of his opinion
as to whether, the Dred Scott decision notwithstanding, "the people of a
Territory could in any lawful way exclude slavery from its limits prior
to the formation of a State constitution." Lincoln foresaw and predicted
what Douglas would answer: that slavery could not exist in a Territory
unless the people desired it and gave it protection by territorial
legislation. In an improvised caucus the policy of pressing the
interrogatory on Douglas was discussed. Lincoln's friends unanimously
advised against it, because the answer foreseen would sufficiently
commend Douglas to the people of Illinois to insure his re-election to
the Senate. But Lincoln persisted. "I am after larger game," said he.
"If Douglas so answers, he can never be President, and the battle of
1860 is worth a hundred of this." The interrogatory was pressed upon
Douglas, and Douglas did answer that, no matter what the decision of
the Supreme Court might be on the abstract question, the people of
a Territory had the lawful means to introduce or exclude slavery by
territorial legislation friendly or unfriendly to the institution.
Lincoln found it easy to show the absurdity of the proposition that, if
slavery were admitted to exist of right in the Territories by virtue
of the supreme law, the Federal Constitution, it could be kept out or
expelled by an inferior law, one made by a territorial Legislature.
Again the judgment of the politicians, having only the nearest object in
view, proved correct: Douglas was reelected to the Senate. But Lincoln's
judgment proved correct also: Douglas, by resorting to the expedient
of his "unfriendly legislation doctrine," forfeited his last chance of
becoming President of the United States. He might have hoped to win, by
sufficient atonement, his pardon from the South for his opposition
to the Lecompton Constitution; but that he taught the people of the
Territories a trick by which they could defeat what the proslavery men
considered a constitutional right, and that he called that trick
lawful, this the slave power would never forgive. The breach between
the Southern and the Northern Democracy was thenceforth irremediable and
fatal.
The Presidential election of 1860 approached. The struggle in Kansas,
and the debates in Congress which accompanied it, and which not
unfrequently provoked violent outbursts, continually stirred the popular
excitement. Within the Democratic party raged the war of factions. The
national Democratic convention met at Charleston on the 23d of April,
1860. After a struggle of ten days between the adherents and the
opponents of Douglas, during which the delegates from the cotton States
had withdrawn, the convention adjourned without having nominated any
candidates, to meet again in Baltimore on the 18th of June. There was no
prospect, however, of reconciling the hostile elements. It appeared very
probable that the Baltimore convention would nominate Douglas, while
the seceding Southern Democrats would set up a candidate of their own,
representing extreme proslavery principles.
Meanwhile, the national Republican convention assembled at Chicago on
the 16th of May, full of enthusiasm and hope. The situation was easily
understood. The Democrats would have the South. In order to succeed
in the election, the Republicans had to win, in addition to the States
carried by Fremont in 1856, those that were classed as "doubtful,"--New
Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Indiana, or Illinois in the place of either
New Jersey or Indiana. The most eminent Republican statesmen and leaders
of the time thought of for the Presidency were Seward and Chase, both
regarded as belonging to the more advanced order of antislavery men.
Of the two, Seward had the largest following, mainly from New York,
New England, and the Northwest. Cautious politicians doubted seriously
whether Seward, to whom some phrases in his speeches had undeservedly
given the reputation of a reckless radical, would be able to command the
whole Republican vote in the doubtful States. Besides, during his long
public career he had made enemies. It was evident that those who thought
Seward's nomination too hazardous an experiment would consider Chase
unavailable for the same reason. They would then look round for an
"available" man; and among the "available" men Abraham Lincoln was
easily discovered to stand foremost. His great debate with Douglas had
given him a national reputation. The people of the East being eager
to see the hero of so dramatic a contest, he had been induced to visit
several Eastern cities, and had astonished and delighted large and
distinguished audiences with speeches of singular power and originality.
An address delivered by him in the Cooper Institute in New York, before
an audience containing a large number of important persons, was then,
and has ever since been, especially praised as one of the most logical
and convincing political speeches ever made in this country. The people
of the West had grown proud of him as a distinctively Western great man,
and his popularity at home had some peculiar features which could be
expected to exercise a potent charm. Nor was Lincoln's name as that of
an available candidate left to the chance of accidental discovery. It
is indeed not probable that he thought of himself as a Presidential
possibility, during his contest with Douglas for the senatorship. As
late as April, 1859, he had written to a friend who had approached him
on the subject that he did not think himself fit for the Presidency.
The Vice-Presidency was then the limit of his ambition. But some of
his friends in Illinois took the matter seriously in hand, and Lincoln,
after some hesitation, then formally authorized "the use of his name."
The matter was managed with such energy and excellent judgment that,
in the convention, he had not only the whole vote of Illinois to start
with, but won votes on all sides without offending any rival. A large
majority of the opponents of Seward went over to Abraham Lincoln, and
gave him the nomination on the third ballot. As had been foreseen,
Douglas was nominated by one wing of the Democratic party at Baltimore,
while the extreme proslavery wing put Breckinridge into the field as
its candidate. After a campaign conducted with the energy of genuine
enthusiasm on the antislavery side the united Republicans defeated the
divided Democrats, and Lincoln was elected President by a majority of
fifty-seven votes in the electoral colleges.
The result of the election had hardly been declared when the disunion
movement in the South, long threatened and carefully planned and
prepared, broke out in the shape of open revolt, and nearly a month
before Lincoln could be inaugurated as President of the United States
seven Southern States had adopted ordinances of secession, formed an
independent confederacy, framed a constitution for it, and elected
Jefferson Davis its president, expecting the other slaveholding
States soon to join them. On the 11th of February, 1861, Lincoln left
Springfield for Washington; having, with characteristic simplicity,
asked his law partner not to change the sign of the firm "Lincoln
and Herndon" during the four years unavoidable absence of the senior
partner, and having taken an affectionate and touching leave of his
neighbors.
The situation which confronted the new President was appalling: the
larger part of the South in open rebellion, the rest of the slaveholding
States wavering preparing to follow; the revolt guided by determined,
daring, and skillful leaders; the Southern people, apparently full of
enthusiasm and military spirit, rushing to arms, some of the forts
and arsenals already in their possession; the government of the Union,
before the accession of the new President, in the hands of men some of
whom actively sympathized with the revolt, while others were hampered by
their traditional doctrines in dealing with it, and really gave it aid
and comfort by their irresolute attitude; all the departments full of
"Southern sympathizers" and honeycombed with disloyalty; the treasury
empty, and the public credit at the lowest ebb; the arsenals ill
supplied with arms, if not emptied by treacherous practices; the regular
army of insignificant strength, dispersed over an immense surface, and
deprived of some of its best officers by defection; the navy small and
antiquated. But that was not all. The threat of disunion had so often
been resorted to by the slave power in years gone by that most Northern
people had ceased to believe in its seriousness. But, when disunion
actually appeared as a stern reality, something like a chill swept
through the whole Northern country. A cry for union and peace at any
price rose on all sides. Democratic partisanship reiterated this cry
with vociferous vehemence, and even many Republicans grew afraid of
the victory they had just achieved at the ballot-box, and spoke of
compromise. The country fairly resounded with the noise of "anticoercion
meetings." Expressions of firm resolution from determined antislavery
men were indeed not wanting, but they were for a while almost drowned
by a bewildering confusion of discordant voices. Even this was not
all. Potent influences in Europe, with an ill-concealed desire for the
permanent disruption of the American Union, eagerly espoused the cause
of the Southern seceders, and the two principal maritime powers of the
Old World seemed only to be waiting for a favorable opportunity to lend
them a helping hand.
This was the state of things to be mastered by "honest Abe Lincoln" when
he took his seat in the Presidential chair,--"honest Abe Lincoln," who
was so good-natured that he could not say "no"; the greatest achievement
in whose life had been a debate on the slavery question; who had never
been in any position of power; who was without the slightest experience
of high executive duties, and who had only a speaking acquaintance with
the men upon whose counsel and cooperation he was to depend. Nor was
his accession to power under such circumstances greeted with general
confidence even by the members of his party. While he had indeed won
much popularity, many Republicans, especially among those who had
advocated Seward's nomination for the Presidency, saw the simple
"Illinois lawyer" take the reins of government with a feeling little
short of dismay. The orators and journals of the opposition were
ridiculing and lampooning him without measure. Many people actually
wondered how such a man could dare to undertake a task which, as he
himself had said to his neighbors in his parting speech, was "more
difficult than that of Washington himself had been."