The “Baltimore Convention,” which renominated Mr. Lincoln, was convened
June 7, 1864. It created comparatively little excitement in Washington
or elsewhere, as the action of the various State legislatures and local
mass meetings had prepared the public mind for the result.
Toward evening of the 8th,--the day the nominations were made,--Major
Hay and myself were alone with the President in his office. He did not
seem in any degree exhilarated by the action of the convention; on
the contrary, his manner was subdued, if not sad. Upon the lighting
of the gas, he told us how he had that afternoon received the news
of the nomination for Vice-President before he heard of his own.
It appeared that the despatch announcing his renomination had been
sent to his office from the War Department while he was at lunch.
Afterward, without going back to the official chamber, he proceeded
to the War Department. While there, the telegram came in announcing
the nomination of Johnson. “What!” said he to the operator, “do they
nominate a Vice-President before they do a President?” “Why!” rejoined
the astonished official, “have you not heard of your own nomination? It
was sent to the White House two hours ago.” “It is all right,” was the
reply; “I shall probably find it on my return.”
Laughing pleasantly over this incident, he said, soon afterward,--“A
very singular occurrence took place the day I was nominated at Chicago,
four years ago, of which I am reminded to-night. In the afternoon
of the day, returning home from down town, I went up-stairs to Mrs.
Lincoln’s sitting-room. Feeling somewhat tired, I lay down upon a couch
in the room, directly opposite a bureau upon which was a looking-glass.
As I reclined, my eye fell upon the glass, and I saw distinctly _two_
images of myself, exactly alike, except that one was a little paler
than the other. I arose, and lay down again, with the same result.
It made me quite uncomfortable for a few moments, but some friends
coming in, the matter passed out of my mind. The next day, while
walking in the street, I was suddenly reminded of the circumstance,
and the disagreeable sensation produced by it returned. I had never
seen anything of the kind before, and did not know what to make of it.
I determined to go home and place myself in the same position, and
if the same effect was produced, I would make up my mind that it was
the natural result of some principle of refraction or optics which I
did not understand, and dismiss it. I tried the experiment, with a
like result; and, as I had said to myself, accounting for it on some
principle unknown to me, it ceased to trouble me. But,” said he, “some
time ago, I tried to produce the same effect _here_, by arranging a
glass and couch in the same position, without success.” He did not
say, at this time, that either he or Mrs. Lincoln attached any omen
to the phenomenon; neither did he say that the double reflection was
seen while he was walking about the room. On the contrary, it was only
visible in a certain position and at a certain angle; and therefore, he
thought, could be accounted for upon scientific principles.[7]
A little later in the evening, the Hon. Mr. Kelley, of Philadelphia,
came in. As he sat down, he took a letter out of his pocket, saying:
“Mr. President, while on a visit home, a week or two ago, I took up a
number of the “Anti-Slavery Standard,” in which there happened to be a
communication from Mrs. Caroline H. Dall, of Boston, giving her views
of the Fremont movement, and the situation generally; so admirable
in its tone and spirit, that I could not resist the inclination to
write to the author, expressing the interest with which I had read
the article. The result was a reply, which I hold in my hand, which
seems to me so just and able a statement of your position, from the
stand-point of a true woman, that I have brought it up to read to you.”
Mr. Lincoln nodded assent, and listened pensively to the eloquent
tones of the Congressman’s voice, who entered into the spirit of
the letter with his whole heart,--affirming, as it did, unwavering
confidence in the President; the sincerity of his anti-slavery
convictions and purposes; and appreciation of the difficulties which
had environed him,--presenting, in this respect, a marked contrast to
the letters and speeches of many of the so-called radicals. Mr. Lincoln
said but little, as Judge Kelley concluded; but one or two expressions,
and the manner accompanying them, showed that the sentiments of the
writer of the letter were gratefully appreciated.
The day following the adjournment at Baltimore, various political
organizations called to pay their respects to the President. First
came the Convention Committee, embracing one from each State
represented,--appointed to announce to him, formally, the nomination.
Next came the Ohio delegation, with Menter’s Band, of Cincinnati.
Following these were the representatives of the National Union League,
to whom he said, in concluding his brief response:--
“I do not allow myself to suppose that either the Convention, or the
League, have concluded to decide that I am either the greatest or
the best man in America; but, rather, they have concluded that it is
not best to _swap_ horses while crossing the river, and have further
concluded that I am not so poor a horse, but that they might make a
_botch_ of it in trying to _swap_!”
Another incident, which occurred in the course of the day, created
considerable amusement. When the Philadelphia delegation was being
presented, the chairman of that body, in introducing one of the
members, said: “Mr. President, this is Mr. S----, of the Second
District of our State,--a most active and earnest friend of yours and
the cause. He has, among other things, been good enough to paint, and
present to our League rooms, a most beautiful portrait of yourself.”
Mr. Lincoln took the gentleman’s hand in his, and shaking it cordially,
said with a merry voice,--“I presume, sir, in painting your beautiful
portrait, you took your idea of me from my principles, and not from my
person.”
Among the visitors, the same afternoon, were William Lloyd Garrison and
Theodore Tilton. In the “Editorial Notes,” concerning the convention
and nominations, in his newspaper, the New York “Independent,” the
following week, Mr. Tilton wrote:--
“On his reception day, the President’s face wore an expression of
satisfaction rather than elation. His reception of Mr. Garrison was
an equal honor to host and guest. In alluding to our failure to find
the old jail, he said,--‘Well, Mr. Garrison, when you first went to
Baltimore you couldn’t get _out_; but the second time you couldn’t get
_in_!’ When one of us mentioned the great enthusiasm at the convention,
after Senator Morgan’s proposition to amend the Constitution,
abolishing slavery, Mr. Lincoln instantly said,--‘It was I who
suggested to Mr. Morgan that he should put that idea into his opening
speech.’ This was the very best word he has said since the proclamation
of freedom.”