Mr. Lincoln made his first political speech in 1832, at the age of
twenty-three, when he was a candidate for the Illinois Legislature. His
opponent had wearied the audience by a long speech, leaving him but a
short time in which to present his views. He condensed all he had to
say into a few words, as follows:--
“Gentlemen, Fellow-citizens: I presume you know who I am. I am humble
Abraham Lincoln. I have been solicited by many friends to become a
candidate for the legislature. My politics can be briefly stated. I am
in favor of a national bank. I am in favor of the internal improvement
system, and a high protective tariff. These are my sentiments and
political principles. If elected, I shall be thankful. If not, it will
be all the same.”
The contrast between Mr. Lincoln and Senator Douglas is well brought
out in the following extract from a speech by Hon. I. N. Arnold of
Illinois, in 1863. Speaking of their great contest for the senatorship,
Mr. Arnold said:--
“Douglas went through this campaign like a conquering hero. He had his
special train of cars, his band of music, his body-guard of devoted
friends, a cannon carried on the train, the firing from which announced
his approach to the place of meeting. Such a canvass involved,
necessarily, very large expenditures; and it has been said that Douglas
did not expend less than $50,000 in this canvass. Some idea of the
plain, simple, frugal habits of Mr. Lincoln may be gathered, when I
tell you that at its close, having occupied several months, Mr. Lincoln
said, with the idea, apparently, that he had been somewhat extravagant:
‘I do not believe I have spent a cent less than five hundred dollars in
this canvass.’”
Soon after Mr. Lincoln entered upon the practice of his profession at
Springfield, he was engaged in a criminal case in which it was thought
there was little chance of success. Throwing all his powers into it,
he came off victorious, and promptly received for his services five
hundred dollars. A legal friend calling upon him the next morning
found him sitting before a table, upon which his money was spread out,
counting it over and over. “Look here, Judge,” said he; “see what a
heap of money I’ve got from the ---- case. Did you ever see anything
like it? Why, I never had so much money in my life before, put it all
together!” Then crossing his arms upon the table, his manner sobering
down, he added, “I have got just five hundred dollars: if it was only
seven hundred and fifty, I would go directly and purchase a quarter
section of land, and settle it upon my old step-mother.” His friend
said that if the deficiency was all he needed, he would loan him the
amount, taking his note, to which Mr. Lincoln instantly acceded.
His friend then said: “Lincoln, I would not do just what you have
indicated. Your step-mother is getting old, and will not probably live
many years. I would settle the property upon her for her use during her
lifetime, to revert to you upon her death.”
With much feeling, Mr. Lincoln replied: “I shall do no such thing. It
is a poor return, at the best, for all the good woman’s devotion and
fidelity to me, and there is not going to be any half-way business
about it;” and so saying, he gathered up his money, and proceeded
forthwith to carry his long-cherished purpose into execution.
Among the numerous delegations which thronged Washington in the early
part of the war was one from New York, which urged very strenuously
the sending of a fleet to the southern cities,--Charleston, Mobile,
and Savannah,--with the object of drawing off the rebel army from
Washington. Mr. Lincoln said the project reminded him of the case of
a girl in New Salem, who was greatly troubled with a “singing” in her
head. Various remedies were suggested by the neighbors, but nothing
tried afforded any relief. At last a man came along,--“a common-sense
sort of man,” said he, inclining his head towards the gentleman
complimentarily,--“who was asked to prescribe for the difficulty. After
due inquiry and examination, he said the cure was very simple. ‘What is
it?’ was the anxious question. ‘Make a plaster of _psalm-tunes_, and
apply to her feet, and draw the “singing” _down_,’ was the rejoinder.”
On another occasion, an anti-slavery delegation, also from New York,
were pressing the adoption of the emancipation policy. During the
interview the “chairman,” the Rev. Dr. C----, made a characteristic and
powerful appeal, largely made up of quotations from the Old Testament
Scriptures. Mr. Lincoln received the “bombardment” in silence. As the
speaker concluded, he continued for a moment in thought, and then,
drawing a long breath, responded: “Well, gentlemen, it is not often one
is favored with a delegation _direct_ from the Almighty!”
One of Mr. Lincoln’s Springfield neighbors, a clergyman, visiting
Washington early in the administration, asked the President what was
to be his policy on the slavery question. “Well,” said he, “I will
answer by telling you a story. You know Father B., the old Methodist
preacher? and you know Fox River and its freshets? Well, once in the
presence of Father B., a young Methodist was worrying about Fox River,
and expressing fears that he should be prevented from fulfilling some
of his appointments by a freshet in the river. Father B. checked him in
his gravest manner. Said he: ‘Young man, I have always made it a rule
in my life not to cross Fox River till I get to it!’ And,” added Mr.
Lincoln, “I am not going to worry myself over the slavery question till
I get to it.”
General Garfield, of Ohio, received from the President an account of
the capture of Norfolk, similar to that recorded on a previous page,
with the following preface:--
“By the way, Garfield,” said Mr. Lincoln, “you never heard, did you,
that Chase, Stanton, and I, had a campaign of our own? We went down to
Fortress Monroe in Chase’s revenue cutter, and consulted with Admiral
Goldsborough as to the feasibility of taking Norfolk by landing on
the north shore and making a march of eight miles. The Admiral said,
very positively, there was no landing on that shore, and we should
have to double the cape and approach the place from the south side,
which would be a long and difficult journey. I thereupon asked him if
he had ever tried to find a landing, and he replied that he had not.
‘Now,’ said I, ‘Admiral, that reminds me of a chap out West who had
studied law, but had never tried a case. Being sued, and not having
confidence in his ability to manage his own case, he employed a
fellow-lawyer to manage it for him. He had only a confused idea of the
meaning of law terms, but was anxious to make a display of learning,
and on the trial constantly made suggestions to his lawyer, who paid
no attention to him. At last, fearing that his lawyer was not handling
the opposing counsel very well, he lost all patience, and springing
to his feet cried out, “Why don’t you go at him with a _capias_, or a
_surre-butter_, or something, and not stand there like a confounded old
_nudum-pactum_?”’”
An officer of the Government called one day at the White House, and
introduced a clerical friend. “Mr. President,” said he, “allow me
to present to you my friend, the Rev. Mr. F., of ----. Mr. F. has
expressed a desire to see you and have some conversation with you, and
I am happy to be the means of introducing him.” The President shook
hands with Mr. F., and desiring him to be seated took a seat himself.
Then, his countenance having assumed an air of patient waiting, he
said: “I am now ready to hear what you have to say.” “Oh, bless you,
sir,” said Mr. F., “I have nothing special to say; I merely called to
pay my respects to you, and, as one of the million, to assure you of my
hearty sympathy and support.” “My dear sir,” said the President, rising
promptly, his face showing instant relief, and with both hands grasping
that of his visitor, “I am very glad to see you, indeed. _I thought you
had come to preach to me!_”
On the way to the cemetery dedication at Gettysburg, Mr. Lincoln said
to his friend, McVeagh, of Pennsylvania, speaking of Governor Gamble
and the administration troubles in Missouri:--“I do not understand the
spirit of those men who, in such a time as this, because they cannot
have a whole loaf will take no bread. For my part, I am willing to
receive any man, or class of men, who will help us even a _little_.”
On the same occasion, when the Presidential party reached Hanover
Junction they found a large concourse of people assembled to greet
them. Mr. Lincoln and Secretary Seward, an hour previous, had gone into
the sleeping-car attached to the train, for some rest. In response to
the clamor of the crowd, a friend intruded upon them, saying to the
President that he was “expected to make a speech.”
“No!” he rejoined, very emphatically; “I had enough of that sort
of thing all the way from Springfield to Washington. Seward,” said
he, turning over in his berth, “you go out and repeat some of your
‘_poetry_’ to the people!”
Upon the betrothal of the Prince of Wales to the Princess Alexandra,
Queen Victoria sent a letter to each of the European sovereigns,
and also to President Lincoln, announcing the fact. Lord Lyons, her
ambassador at Washington,--a “bachelor,” by the way,--requested an
audience of Mr. Lincoln, that he might present this important document
in person. At the time appointed he was received at the White House, in
company with Mr. Seward.
“May it please your Excellency,” said Lord Lyons, “I hold in my hand an
autograph letter from my royal mistress, Queen Victoria, which I have
been commanded to present to your Excellency. In it she informs your
Excellency that her son, his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, is
about to contract a matrimonial alliance with her Royal Highness the
Princess Alexandra of Denmark.”
After continuing in this strain for a few minutes, Lord Lyons tendered
the letter to the President and awaited his reply. It was short,
simple, and expressive, and consisted simply of the words:--
“Lord Lyons, go thou and do likewise.”
It is doubtful if an English ambassador was ever addressed in this
manner before, and it would be interesting to learn what success he met
with in putting the reply in diplomatic language when he reported it to
her Majesty.
The antagonism between the northern and southern sections of the
Democratic party, which culminated in the nomination of two separate
tickets in 1860, was a subject to draw out one of Mr. Lincoln’s hardest
hits.
“I once knew,” said he, “a sound churchman by the name of Brown, who
was a member of a very sober and pious committee having in charge
the erection of a bridge over a dangerous and rapid river. Several
architects failed, and at last Brown said he had a friend named Jones,
who had built several bridges and undoubtedly could build that one.
So Mr. Jones was called in. ‘Can you build this bridge?’ inquired the
committee. ‘Yes,’ replied Jones, ‘or any other. I could build a bridge
to the infernal regions, if necessary!’ The committee were shocked,
and Brown felt called upon to defend his friend. ‘I know Jones so
well,’ said he, ‘and he is so honest a man and so good an architect,
that if he states soberly and positively that he can build a bridge
to--to ----, why, I believe it; but I feel bound to say that I have my
doubts about the abutment on the infernal side.’ So,” said Mr. Lincoln,
“when politicians told me that the northern and southern wings of the
Democracy could be harmonized, why, I believed them, of course; but I
always had my doubts about the ‘abutment’ on the _other_ side.”[13]
About the time Mr. Lincoln began to be known as a successful lawyer,
he was waited upon by a lady, who held a real-estate claim which
she desired to have him prosecute,--putting into his hands, with the
necessary papers, a check for two hundred and fifty dollars, as a
retaining fee. Mr. Lincoln said he would look the case over, and asked
her to call again the next day. Upon presenting herself, Mr. Lincoln
told her that he had gone through the papers very carefully, and he
must tell her frankly that there was not a “peg” to hang her claim
upon, and he could not conscientiously advise her to bring an action.
The lady was satisfied, and, thanking him, rose to go. “Wait,” said Mr.
Lincoln, fumbling in his vest pocket; “here is the check you left with
me.” “But, Mr. Lincoln,” returned the lady, “I think you have earned
_that_.” “No, no,” he responded, handing it back to her; “that would
not be right. I can’t take _pay_ for doing my duty.”
Mr. Lincoln liked to feel himself the attorney of the people, not their
ruler. Speaking once of the probability of his renomination, he said:
“If the people think I have managed their ‘case’ for them well enough
to trust me to carry it up to the next term, I am sure I shall be glad
to take it.”
“Judge Baldwin of California, being in Washington, called one day
on General Halleck, and, presuming upon a familiar acquaintance in
California a few years before, solicited a pass outside of our lines
to see a brother in Virginia, not thinking that he would meet with a
refusal, as both his brother and himself were good Union men. “We have
been deceived too often,” said General Halleck, “and I regret I can’t
grant it.” Judge B. then went to Stanton, and was very briefly disposed
of, with the same result. Finally, he obtained an interview with Mr.
Lincoln, and stated his case. “Have you applied to General Halleck?”
inquired the President. “Yes, and met with a flat refusal,” said Judge
B. “Then you must see Stanton,” continued the President. “I have, and
with the same result,” was the reply. “Well, then,” said Mr. Lincoln,
with a smile, “I can do nothing; for you must know _that I have very
little influence with this Administration_.”
Mr. Colfax told me of a gentleman’s going to the President, one day,
with a bitter denunciation of Secretary Stanton and his management of
the War Department. “Go home, my friend,” interrupted Mr. Lincoln,
“and read attentively the tenth verse of the thirtieth chapter of
Proverbs!”[14]
A lieutenant, whom debts compelled to leave his father-land and
service, succeeded in being admitted to President Lincoln, and, by
reason of his commendable and winning deportment and intelligent
appearance, was promised a lieutenant’s commission in a cavalry
regiment. He was so enraptured with his success, that he deemed it a
duty to inform the President that he belonged to one of the oldest
noble houses in Germany. “Oh, never mind that,” said Mr. Lincoln; “you
will not find that to be an obstacle to your advancement.”
Just previous to the fall of Vicksburg, a self-constituted committee,
solicitous for the _morale_ of our armies, took it upon themselves to
visit the President and urge the removal of General Grant. In some
surprise Mr. Lincoln inquired, “For what reason?” “Why,” replied the
spokesman, “he drinks too much whiskey.” “Ah!” rejoined Mr. Lincoln,
dropping his lower lip. “By the way, gentlemen, can either of you tell
me where General Grant procures his whiskey? because, if I can find
out, I will send every general in the field a barrel of it!”
When the telegram from Cumberland Gap reached Mr. Lincoln that “firing
was heard in the direction of Knoxville,” he remarked that he was “glad
of it.” Some person present, who had the perils of Burnside’s position
uppermost in his mind, could not see _why_ Mr. Lincoln should be
_glad_ of it, and so expressed himself. “Why, you see,” responded the
President, “it reminds me of Mistress Sallie Ward, a neighbor of mine,
who had a very large family. Occasionally one of her numerous progeny
would be heard crying in some out-of-the-way place, upon which Mrs.
Ward would exclaim, ‘There’s one of my children that isn’t dead yet.’”
A gentleman once complimented the President on having no vices, neither
drinking nor smoking. “That is a doubtful compliment,” answered the
President; “I recollect once being outside a stage-coach, in Illinois,
and a man sitting by me offered me a cigar. I told him I had no vices.
He said nothing, but smoked for some time, and then growled out: ‘It’s
my experience that folks who have no vices have generally very few
virtues.’”
Mr. Lincoln’s aversion to calls for a speech that must be merely
“off-hand,” was decided; yet, unwilling altogether to disappoint the
crowds, who perhaps too often made such demands of him, he seldom
excused himself altogether from speaking. One evening a friend was
conversing with him in his room, when his quick ear caught the sound of
approaching music, and his countenance suddenly changed, as he inquired
its meaning, though readily divining it. A serenade was presently
announced by an usher, and Mr. Lincoln, as he arose to go forward to
the front window, lingered a moment, and said:--
“These ‘serenade’ speeches bother me a good deal, they are so hard to
make. I feel very much like the steam doctor, who said he could get
along very well in his practice with almost every case, but he was
always a little puzzled when it came to mending a broken leg.”
It has been repeatedly said that Mr. Lincoln lacked imagination and
poetic sensibility. Surely, the soul which could conceive the last
inaugural, or indite the closing sentence of the first, was not wanting
in these elements:--
“The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battle-field and
patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad
land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as
surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”