commissioners from the Confederacy--Stephens, Hunter, and Campbell,--who
wanted the President to recognize the Southern Confederacy as a foreign
government. Mr. Hunter urged this very strongly, declaring that the
recognition of Jefferson Davis's official authority to make a treaty
was an indispensable step to peace, and referred to the correspondence
between King Charles I. and his Parliament as a trustworthy precedent.
When Mr. Hunter made this point, Lincoln looked up quickly and
remarked,--
"Upon questions of history I must refer you to Mr. Seward, for he is
posted on such things and I do not profess to be; but it is my distinct
recollection that, as a result of that correspondence, Charles lost his
head."
One of the most remarkable examples of Lincoln's tact and diplomacy
is found in his treatment of a Cabinet crisis in December, 1862, when
the danger of a permanent division of the Republican party into two
hostile factions seemed imminent and unavoidable. As the reader has
already learned from this narrative, the Cabinet was never harmonious
or united. It was divided by personal jealousies and rivalries as
well as by differences concerning matters of policy from the day
of the inauguration. Gradually Mr. Seward became the leader of the
conservative and Mr. Chase of the radical element of the Republican
party, and while both conducted the business of their departments with
patriotism, ability, and skill, they were not only mutually hostile,
but suspected each other's motives. From a very early day Mr. Chase
became an outspoken candidate for the Presidential nomination against
Lincoln, and his criticism, as we have learned in Chapter V., included
his fellow-members of the Cabinet. Mr. Seward, on the other hand, was
loyal to the President, but had given great offence to the radical
element of his party by some of his published despatches and private
utterances, particularly one diplomatic note in which he had included
the antislavery men with the secessionists as responsible for bringing
on the war. The dissatisfaction was aggravated by other offences to such
a degree that the Republicans of the Senate called a caucus to consider
the matter and passed a resolution demanding the dismissal of Mr. Seward
from the Cabinet. The cooler members of the Senate succeeded in having
this action reconsidered and a substitute resolution adopted requesting
a reconstruction of the official family. The meaning and intention
of the caucus, however, could not be concealed by this indefinite
resolution, and as soon as Mr. Seward learned of the proceeding, he
and his son, who was Assistant Secretary of State, tendered their
resignations. The President tucked them into a pigeonhole of his desk
without comment.
The following morning a caucus committee waited upon the President
and presented the resolution, each Senator, in turn, submitting his
personal views as to the unfitness of the Secretary of State to remain
in the administration, chiefly because of his lack of interest in
antislavery measures under consideration which they considered essential
to a successful prosecution of the war. Lincoln listened to them with
respectful attention, asked an opportunity for reflection, and invited
them to return to the White House in the evening for his reply. He
called the Cabinet, except Mr. Seward, together at the same hour, and
when the committee and the ministers met each was greatly surprised to
see the others.
[Illustration: SALMON P. CHASE, SECRETARY OF THE TREASURY
From a photograph by Brady]
The President remarked that he thought it best to fight it out and have
it over, and was determined that every point of difference between them
should be exposed and explained before his guests separated. He read the
resolution of the caucus and then called upon the Senators to explain
themselves, which they did with earnestness. The Cabinet replied with
equal candor,--all except Secretary Chase, who found himself in a
very embarrassing position, because he had been chiefly instrumental
in creating the dissatisfaction by misrepresenting the opinions of
Seward and the rest of his colleagues to his friends in the Senate. He
could not deny it, for the witnesses were present; nor could he defend
himself for doing so. He could only protest against being entrapped in a
mortifying predicament and express his regret that he had attended the
meeting. Without malice, but with the hope of correcting the bad habits
of his Secretary of the Treasury, the President had made sure that he
should be present.
When everybody had said all that he had to say, Lincoln astonished them
by announcing that he intended to take a vote, and he put the question
directly whether, after the explanations which had been heard, Mr.
Seward should be excused. Senators Grimes, Trumbull, Sumner, and Pomeroy
voted "Yes," Senator Harris "No," and Senators Collamer, Fessenden, and
Howard declined to vote. Mr. Wade, the other member of the committee,
was absent.
The President decided that the vote had been in favor of Mr. Seward.
While the Senators realized that the President had outwitted them, they,
nevertheless, left the White House satisfied that Seward's position
was untenable, and that after this incident he would be compelled
voluntarily to retire from the Cabinet. As the committee was leaving
the President's room, Senator Trumbull, with great vehemence, accused
Mr. Chase of double-dealing, and the latter, having no defence to the
charge, tendered his resignation the following morning, and was very
much surprised at the alacrity with which the President received it.
When the Cabinet retired, Lincoln took the resignation of Mr. Seward
from his desk and, holding it up beside that of Mr. Chase, remarked to a
personal friend to whom he had briefly sketched the situation,--
"Now I can ride. I have got a pumpkin in each end of my bag."
A few moments after he sat down at his desk, with his own hand made two
copies of the following note, and sent one to Mr. Seward and the other
to Mr. Chase by messenger:
"You have respectively tendered me your resignation as Secretary of
State and Secretary of the Treasury of the United States. I am apprized
of the circumstances which render this course personally desirable to
each of you; but, after the most anxious consideration, my deliberate
judgment is that the public interest does not admit of it. I therefore
have to request that you will resume the duties of your departments
respectively."
Mr. Seward at once recognized the situation and wrote the President,
saying, "I have cheerfully resumed the functions of this department in
obedience to your command," and sent a copy of the note to the Secretary
of the Treasury.
Mr. Chase, however, was not so frank. He realized that he had made a
serious mistake, and by his duplicity had lost the confidence of the
Republican leaders of the Senate as well as that of his colleagues
in the Cabinet. He suspected that Mr. Seward had somehow obtained an
advantage of him, and he was not sure which way he had better turn;
so he asked time for reflection, and finally wrote a long letter to
the President explaining his situation and his views, and concluded by
saying that he thought both Mr. Seward and himself had better retire. He
did not send the letter at once, but held it until the following day;
and when he learned that Seward's resignation was withdrawn, enclosed it
in another note stating that, while he had not changed his views, he was
ready to resume his post or to retire from it if, in the judgment of the
President, the success of the administration might be promoted thereby.
This was the end of the episode. The President had cleared up the
misunderstanding between the Cabinet and the Senate and the members of
his own official family by a novel expedient which is often adopted to
reconcile quarrels between children, but was altogether new in diplomacy
and statesmanship. Both sides to the controversy were conscious that
they had placed themselves in the wrong, and, even under their chagrin,
must have recognized the humor of the situation and the diplomatic skill
with which Lincoln had handled it. The President himself was very proud
of his triumph.
"I do not see how it could have been better," he said afterwards. "If I
had yielded to the storm and dismissed Seward, the thing would all have
slumped over one way, and we should have been left with a scanty handful
of supporters. When Chase gave in his resignation I saw that the game
was in my hands, and I put it through."
In this case and frequently throughout his administration the President
resorted to the old-fashioned and homely but sensible methods that were
commonly resorted to on the frontier to settle controversies between
neighbors when the courts were scattered and litigation was considered
disreputable. They were new in the administration of a government, but
were none the less effective.
Lincoln frequently showed that he could easily avoid a direct answer
and evade inquisitive visitors when he thought it was impolitic to make
known his opinions. One of the latter wanted to know his opinion of
Sheridan, who had just come from the West to take command of the cavalry
under Grant. Said Lincoln,--
"I will tell you just what kind of a chap he is. He is one of those
long-armed fellows with short legs that can scratch his shins without
having to stoop over to do so."
One day, when the vain boasting of a certain general was the subject of
discussion, Lincoln was "reminded" of a farmer out in Illinois who was
in the habit of bragging about everything he did and had and saw, and
particularly about his crops. While driving along the road during the
haying season, he noticed one of his neighbors hauling a load of hay
into his barn. He could not resist the opportunity, and commenced to
brag about the size of his hay crop, which, as usual, he asserted to be
larger and better than any ever before known in the county. After he had
finished he asked what kind of a crop his neighbor had put in.
"The biggest crop you ever see!" was the prompt reply. "I've got so much
hay I don't know what to do with it. I've piled up all I can out-doors
and am going to put the rest of it in the barn."
Robert Dale Owen, the spiritualist, once read the President a long
manuscript on an abstruse subject with which that rather erratic person
loved to deal. Lincoln listened patiently until the author asked for his
opinion, when he replied, with a yawn,--
"Well, for those who like that sort of thing, I should think it is just
about the sort of thing they would like."
While Lincoln was always very patient, he often adopted droll methods
for getting rid of bores. The late Justice Cartter of the Supreme Court
of the District of Columbia used to relate an incident of a Philadelphia
man who called at the White House so frequently and took up so much of
the President's time that the latter finally lost his patience. One day
when the gentleman was particularly verbose and persistent, and refused
to leave, although he knew that important delegations were waiting,
Lincoln arose, walked over to a wardrobe in the corner of the cabinet
chamber, and took a bottle from a shelf. Looking gravely at his visitor,
whose head was very bald, he remarked,--
"Did you ever try this stuff for your hair?"
"No, sir, I never did."
"Well," remarked Lincoln, "I advise you to try it, and I will give you
this bottle. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Keep it up.
They say it will make hair grow on a pumpkin. Now take it and come back
in eight or ten months and tell me how it works."
The astonished Philadelphian left the room instantly without a word,
carrying the bottle in his hand, and Judge Cartter, coming in with the
next delegation, found the President doubled up with laughter at the
success of his strategy. Before he could proceed to business the story
had to be told.
"His skill in parrying troublesome questions was wonderful," said Mr.
Chauncey M. Depew. "I was in Washington at a critical period of the
war, when the late John Ganson, of Buffalo, one of the ablest lawyers
in our State, and who, though elected as a Democrat, supported all Mr.
Lincoln's war measures, called on him for explanations. Mr. Ganson was
very bald, with a perfectly smooth face, and had a most direct and
aggressive way of stating his views or of demanding what he thought he
was entitled to. He said,--
"'Mr. Lincoln, I have supported all of your measures and think I am
entitled to your confidence. We are voting and acting in the dark in
Congress, and I demand to know--I think I have the right to ask and
to know--what is the present situation and what are the prospects and
conditions of the several campaigns and armies.'
"Mr. Lincoln looked at him quizzically for a moment, and then said,
'Ganson, how clean you shave!'
"Most men would have been offended, but Ganson was too broad and
intelligent a man not to see the point and retire at once, satisfied,
from the field."
Senator Fessenden came from the Capitol, one day, in a terrible rage
because Mr. Lincoln had made certain promises, in matters of patronage,
which he considered unjust to himself, and reproached and denounced the
President in intemperate language. Mr. Lincoln made no explanation or
reply, but listened calmly until the fury of the storm was spent, when,
in his droll way, he inquired,--
"You are an Episcopalian, aren't you, Fessenden?"
"Yes, sir. I belong to that church."
"I thought so. You Episcopalians all swear alike. Seward is an
Episcopalian; Stanton is a Presbyterian. You ought to hear him swear."
And he continued to describe the several varieties of swearing and the
nice distinctions between different kinds of profanity in the most
philosophical manner, until Fessenden's fury was extinguished and he
could discuss the reasons for the offensive appointment in a rational
manner.
A visitor once asked Lincoln how many men the rebels had in the field.
He replied, very seriously, "Twelve hundred thousand, according to the
best authority."
"Good heavens!"
"Yes, sir, twelve hundred thousand--no doubt of it. You see, all of our
generals, when they get whipped, say the enemy outnumbers them from
three or five to one, and I must believe them. We have four hundred
thousand men in the field, and three times four make twelve. Don't you
see it?"
When the Sherman expedition which captured Port Royal went out there was
a great curiosity to know where it had gone. A person with ungovernable
curiosity asked the President the destination.
"Will you keep it entirely secret?" asked the President.
"Oh, yes, upon my honor."
"Well," said the President, "I will tell you." Assuming an air of great
mystery, and drawing the man close to him, he kept him waiting the
revelation with great anxiety, and then said in a loud whisper, which
was heard all over the room, "The expedition has gone to--sea."
A gentleman asked Lincoln to give him a pass through the Federal lines
in order to visit Richmond. "I should be very happy to oblige you," said
the President, "if my passes were respected; but the fact is, within the
past two years I have given passes to Richmond to two hundred and fifty
thousand men and not one has got there yet."
A New York firm applied to Lincoln some years before he became President
for information as to the financial standing of one of his neighbors.
This was the answer:
"Yours of the 10th received. First of all, he has a wife
and baby; together they ought to be worth $500,000 to any man.
Secondly, he has an office in which there is a table worth
$1.50 and three chairs worth, say, $1. Last of all there is
in one corner a large rat hole, which will bear looking into.
Respectfully,
"A. LINCOLN."
A certain Senator once called at the White House to persuade Lincoln
to issue an order to the Secretary of War to pay a constituent of his
a considerable sum of money for services which clearly he had not
rendered, the amount being claimed on the ground that he would have
rendered them if he had been permitted to do so. Lincoln heard the
statement of facts and the argument with his usual patience and rendered
his decision as follows:
"Years ago when imprisonment for debt was legal in some States a
poor fellow was sent to jail by his creditors and compelled to serve
out his debt at the rate of a dollar and a half per day. Knowing the
exact amount of the debt, he carefully calculated the time he would be
required to serve. When the sentence had expired he informed his jailer
of the fact, and asked to be released. The jailer insisted upon keeping
him four days longer. Upon making up his statement, however, he found
that the man was right, and that he had served four days longer than
his sentence required. The prisoner then demanded not only a receipt
in full of his debt, but also payment for four days' extra service,
amounting to six dollars, which he declared the county owed him.
"Now," said Lincoln, "I think your client has just about as good a claim
for the money as he had."
"I am very much of your opinion, Mr. President," said the Senator,
soberly, as he retired.
Mr. Charles A. Dana, Assistant Secretary of War, says, "A spy whom we
employed to report to us the proceedings of the Confederate government
and its agents, and who passed continually between Richmond and St.
Catherines, reporting at the War Department upon the way, had come in
from Canada and had put into my hands an important despatch from Mr.
Clement C. Clay, Jr., addressed to Mr. Benjamin. Of course the seal
was broken and the paper read immediately. It showed unequivocally
that the Confederate agents in Canada were making use of that country
as a starting-point for warlike raids which were to be directed
against frontier towns like St. Albans in Vermont. Mr. Stanton thought
it important that this despatch should be retained as a ground of
reclamation to be addressed to the British government. It was on a
Sunday that it arrived, and he was confined to his house by a cold. At
his direction I went over to the President and made an appointment with
him to be at the Secretary's office after church. At the appointed time
he was there, and I read the despatch to them. Mr. Stanton stated the
reasons why it should be retained, and before deciding the question Mr.
Lincoln turned to me, saying,--
"'Well, Dana?'
"I observed to them that this was a very important channel of
communication, and that if we stopped such a despatch as this it was at
the risk of never obtaining any more information through that means.
"'Oh,' said the President, 'I think you can manage that. Capture the
messenger, take the despatch from him by force, put him in prison, and
then let him escape. If he has made Benjamin and Clay believe his lies
so far, he won't have any difficulty in telling them new ones that will
answer for this case.'
"This direction was obeyed. The paper was sealed up again and was
delivered to its bearer. General Augur, who commanded the District, was
directed to look for a Confederate messenger at such a place on the
road that evening. The man was arrested, brought to the War Department,
searched, the paper found upon him and identified, and he was committed
to the Old Capitol Prison. He made his escape about a week later, being
fired upon by the guard. A large reward for his capture was advertised
in various papers East and West, and when he reached St. Catherines with
his arm in a sling, wounded by a bullet which had passed through it, his
story was believed by Messrs. Clay and Jacob Thompson, or, at any rate,
if they had any doubts upon the subject, they were not strong enough to
prevent his carrying their messages afterward.
"The last time I saw Mr. Lincoln to speak with him," continued Mr. Dana,
"was in the afternoon of the day of his murder. The same Jacob Thompson
was the subject of our conversation. I had received a report from the
Provost-Marshal of Portland, Maine, saying that Jacob Thompson was to
be in that town that night for the purpose of taking the steamer for
Liverpool, and what orders had the Department to give? I carried the
telegram to Mr. Stanton. He said promptly, 'Arrest him;' but as I was
leaving his room he called me back, adding, 'You had better take it
over to the President.' It was now between four and five o'clock in the
afternoon and business at the White House was completed for the day. I
found Mr. Lincoln with his coat off, in a closet attached to his office,
washing his hands. 'Halloo, Dana,' said he, as I opened the door,
'what is it now?' 'Well, sir,' I said, 'here is the Provost-Marshal
of Portland, who reports that Jacob Thompson is to be in that town
to-night, and inquires what orders we have to give.' 'What does Stanton
say?' he asked.
'Arrest him,' I replied. 'Well,' he continued, drawling his words, 'I
rather guess not. When you have an elephant on hand, and he wants to run
away, better let him run.'"
When a friend brought to his attention the fact that Secretary Chase
was seeking the nomination for President, the President accepted the
announcement with the utmost good-humor, and said,--
"My half-brother was once ploughing corn on a Kentucky farm. I was
driving the horse and he holding the plough. The horse was lazy, but
on one occasion rushed across the field so fast that I, even with my
long legs, could hardly keep pace with him. On reaching the end of the
furrow, I found an enormous chin-fly fastened upon him, and knocked him
off. My brother asked me what I did that for. I told him I didn't want
the old horse bitten in that way. 'Why,' said he, 'that's what makes him
go.' If Mr. Chase has a Presidential chin-fly biting him, I'm not going
to knock him off, if it will only make his department go."
Coming into the President's room one day, Mr. Stanton said that he
had received a telegram from General Mitchell, in Alabama, asking
instructions. He did not quite understand the situation down there, but,
having full confidence in Mitchell's judgment, had answered, "All right;
go ahead."
"Now, Mr. President," he added, "if I have made an error, I shall have
to get you to countermand the order."
"Once at the cross-roads down in Kentucky, when I was a boy, a
particularly fine horse was to be sold," replied Lincoln. "They had
a small boy to ride him up and down. One man whispered to the boy as
he went by, 'Look here, boy, hain't that horse got splints?' The boy
replied, 'Mister, I don't know what splints is; but if it's good for him
he's got it, and if it ain't good for him he ain't got it.' Now," added
Lincoln, "I understand that if this is good for Mitchell it's all right,
but if it's not I have got to countermand it."
To a deputation who urged that his Cabinet should be reconstructed
after the retirement of Secretary Cameron, the President told this
story: "Gentlemen, when I was a young man I used to know very well one
Joe Wilson, who built himself a log cabin not far from where I lived.
Joe was very fond of eggs and chickens, and he took a very great deal
of pains in fitting up a poultry shed. Having at length got together a
choice lot of young fowls,--of which he was very proud,--he began to be
much annoyed by the depredations of those little black-and-white-spotted
animals which it is not necessary to name. One night Joe was awakened
by an unusual cackling and fluttering among his chickens. Getting up,
he crept out to see what was going on. It was a bright moonlight night,
and he soon caught sight of half a dozen of the little pests, which,
with their dam, were running in and out of the shadow of the shed. Very
wrathy, Joe put a double charge into his old musket and thought he would
'clean Out' the whole tribe at one shot. Somehow he only killed one, and
the balance scampered off across the field. In telling the story Joe
would always pause here and hold his nose. 'Why didn't you follow them
up and kill the rest?' inquired his neighbors. 'Blast it,' said Joe, 'it
was eleven weeks before I got over killin' one. If you want any more
skirmishing in that line you can do it yourselves!'"
On one occasion some of Lincoln's friends were talking of the diminutive
stature of Stephen A. Douglas, and an argument as to the proper length
of a man's legs. During the discussion Lincoln came in, and it was
agreed that the question should be referred to him for decision.
"Well," said he, reflectively, "I should think a man's legs ought to be
long enough to reach from his body to the ground."