In 1864, Horace Greeley, editor of the New York _Tribune_, and a great
authority among the farming class and the extremists, consented to
attend an abortive peace consultation with Southern representatives,
George N. Sanders, Beverly Tucker, and Clement C. Clay, at Niagara
Falls. Clay was so set upon Jefferson Davis being still left as a ruler
in some high degree which would condone his action as President of the
seceded States, the project, like others, was a "fizzle," as Lincoln
would have said. To our President, Henry Clay was the "beau-ideal of a
statesman"; but it was clear that his namesake was not of the Clay to
cement a new Union!
* * * * *
"THE MAN DOWN SOUTH."
In August, 1864, a painful absorption was noticed in the President's
manner, growing more and more strained and depressed. The ancient smile
was fainter when it flitted over the long-drawn features, and the eyes
seemed to bury themselves out of sight in the cavernous sockets, too
dry for tears. These withdrawing fits were not uncommon, but they had
become frequent this summer, and at the reception he had mechanically
passed the welcome and given the hand-shake. But then the abstraction
became so dense that he let an old friend stand before him without a
glance, much less the usual hearty greeting expected. The newcomer,
alarmed, ventured to arouse him. He shook off his absence of mind,
seized the hand proffered him, and, while grasping it, exclaimed as
though no others were by, also staring and pained:
"Excuse me! I was thinking--thinking of a man--down South!"
He was thinking of Sherman--that military genius who "burned his ships
and penetrated a hostile country," like Cortez, and from whom no
reliable news had been received while he was investing Savannah.
Lincoln had in his mind been accompanying his captain on that forlorn
march--"smashing things"--to the sea.
* * * * *