Lincoln Chosen President--The Election of 1860--The Waiting-time at
Springfield--A Deluge of Visitors--Various Impressions of the
President-elect--Some Queer Callers--Looking over the Situation
with Friends--Talks about the Cabinet--Thurlow Weed's Visit to
Springfield--The Serious Aspect of National Affairs--The South in
Rebellion--Treason at the National Capital--Lincoln's Farewell
Visit to his Mother--The Old Sign, "Lincoln & Herndon"--The Last
Day at Springfield--Farewell Speech to Friends and Neighbors--Off
for the Capital--The Journey to Washington--Receptions and Speeches
along the Route--At Cincinnati: A Hitherto Unpublished Speech by
Lincoln--At Cleveland: Personal Descriptions of Mr. and Mrs.
Lincoln--At New York City: Impressions of the New President--Perils
of the Journey--The Baltimore Plot--Change of Route--Arrival at the
Capital.
The Presidential campaign of 1860, with its excitements and struggles,
its "Wide-awake" clubs and boisterous enthusiasm throughout the North,
and its bitter and threatening character throughout the South, was at
last ended; and on the 6th of November Abraham Lincoln was elected
President of the United States.[A] His cause had been aided not a little
by an unexpected division in the Democratic party. Douglas had been
nominated for the Presidency by this party in its convention at
Baltimore on the 18th of June; but he was bitterly opposed by the
extreme slavery element of the Democracy, and this faction held a
convention of its own at Baltimore ten days later and nominated for
President John C. Breckenridge of Kentucky. There was still another
party, though a very minor one, in the field--the "Constitutional Union
Party," based chiefly on a desire to avoid the issue of slavery in
national politics--which on the 9th of May had nominated John Bell of
Tennessee as its candidate for the Presidency, with Edward Everett of
Massachusetts for the Vice-Presidency. There were thus four tickets in
the field--the Republican, including if not representing the
anti-slavery element in the North; the Democratic, which was pro-slavery
in its tendencies but had so far failed to satisfy the Southern
wing--now grown alarmed and restless at the growth and tendencies of the
Republican party--that this element nominated as a third ticket an
out-and-out pro-slavery candidate; and (fourth) a "Constitutional Union"
ticket, representing a well-meant but fatuous desire to keep slavery out
of national politics altogether.
This eventful contest was therefore determined largely on sectional
lines, with slavery as the great underlying issue. Lincoln's
gratification at his election was not untempered with disappointments.
While he had a substantial majority of the electoral vote (180 to 123),
the popular vote was toward a million (930,170), more against him than
for him. Fifteen States gave him no electoral vote, and in nine States'
he received not a single popular vote. The slave States--"the Solid
South"--were squarely against him. Lincoln saw the significance of this,
and it filled him with regret and apprehension. But he faced the future
without dismay, and with a calm resolve to do his duty. With all his
hatred of slavery, loyalty to the Constitution had always been paramount
in his mind; and those who knew him best never doubted that it would
continue so.
Lincoln took no active part in the campaign, preferring to remain
quietly at his home in Springfield. Scarcely was the election decided
than he was beset with visitors from all parts of the country, who came
to gratify curiosity or solicit personal favors of the incoming
President. The throng became at last so great, and interfered so much
with the comfort of Lincoln's home, that the Executive Chamber in the
State House was set apart as his reception room. Here he met all who
chose to come--"the millionaire and the menial, the priest and the
politician, men, women, and children, old friends and new friends, those
who called for love and those who sought for office. From morning until
night this was his occupation; and he performed it with conscientious
care and the most unwearying patience." The situation at the Lincoln
home at this time, and the spirit prevailing there, is well depicted by
one of these callers, Mr. R.C. McCormick, whose interesting account of
his meeting with Lincoln in New York City has already been quoted in
these pages. "In January, 1861," says Mr. McCormick, "at the instance of
various friends in New York who wished a position in the Cabinet for a
prominent Kentuckian, I went to Springfield armed with documents for his
consideration. I remained there a week or more, and was at the Lincoln
cottage daily. Of the numerous formal and informal interviews that I
witnessed, I remember all with the sincerest pleasure. I never found the
man upon whom rested the great responsibilities of the nation impatient
or ill-humored. The plainest and most tedious visitors were made welcome
and happy in his presence; the poor commanded as much of his time as the
rich. His recognition of old friends and companions in frontier life,
whom many elevated as he had been would have found it convenient to
forget, was especially hearty. His correspondence was already immense,
and the town was alive with cabinet-makers and office-seekers; but he
met all with a calm temper." Mr. Don Piatt relates that he had met
Lincoln during the Presidential campaign, and had been invited to visit
Springfield. He did so, and was asked to supper at the Lincoln house.
"It was a plain, comfortable structure," says Mr. Piatt, "and the supper
was mainly of cake, pies, and chickens, the last evidently killed in the
morning, to be eaten that evening. After the supper we sat far into the
night, talking over the situation. Mr. Lincoln was the homeliest man I
ever saw. His body seemed to me a huge skeleton in clothes. Tall as he
was, his hands and feet looked out of proportion, so long and clumsy
were they. Every movement was awkward in the extreme. He sat with one
leg thrown over the other, and the pendent foot swung almost to the
floor. And all the while two little boys, his sons, clambered over those
legs, patted his cheeks, pulled his nose, and poked their fingers in his
eyes, without reprimand. He had a face that defied artistic skill to
soften or idealize. It was capable of few expressions, but those were
extremely striking. When in repose, his face was dull, heavy, and
repellent. It brightened like a lit lantern when animated. His dull eyes
would fairly sparkle with fun, or express as kindly a look as I ever
saw, when moved by some matter of human interest."
Hon. George W. Julian, of Indiana, was another visitor to the Lincoln
home in January. He says: "I had a curiosity to see the famous
'rail-splitter,' as he was then familiarly called, and as a member-elect
of the Thirty-seventh Congress I desired to form some acquaintance with
the man who was to play so conspicuous a part in the impending national
crisis. On meeting him I found him far better looking than the campaign
pictures had represented him. His face, when lighted up in conversation,
was not unhandsome, and the kindly and winning tones of his voice
pleaded for him like the smile that played about his rugged features.
He was full of anecdote and humor, and readily found his way to the
hearts of those who enjoyed a welcome to his fireside. His face,
however, was sometimes marked by that touching expression of sadness
which became so noticeable in the years following. On the subject of
slavery I was gratified to find him less reserved and more emphatic than
I had expected. I was much pleased with our first Republican Executive,
and I returned home more fully inspired than ever with the purpose to
sustain him to the utmost in facing the duties of his great office."
The wide range of these callers and their diverse errands are
illustrated by examples furnished by Mr. Lamon. Two tall, ungainly
fellows,--"Suckers," as they were called,--entered Lincoln's room one
day while he was engaged in conversation with a friend. They lingered
bashfully near the door, and Lincoln, noticing their embarrassment, rose
and said good-naturedly, "How do you do, my good fellows? What can I do
for you? Will you sit down?" The spokesman of the pair, the shorter of
the two, declined to sit, and explained the object of the call. He had
had a talk about the relative height of Lincoln and his companion, and
had asserted his belief that they were of exactly the same height. He
had come in to verify his judgment. Lincoln smiled, then got his cane,
and placing the end of it upon the wall said, "Here, young man, come
under here!" The young man came under the cane, as Lincoln held it, and
when it was perfectly adjusted to his height Lincoln said, "Now come out
and hold up the cane." This he did, while Lincoln stepped under. Rubbing
his head back and forth to see that it worked easily under the
measurement, he stepped out, and declared that the young man had guessed
with remarkable accuracy--that he and the tall fellow were exactly of
the same height. Then he shook hands with them and sent them on their
way. The next caller was a very different person--an old and modestly
dressed woman who tried to explain that she knew Lincoln. As he did not
at first recognize her, she tried to recall to his memory certain
incidents connected with his rides upon the circuit--especially his
dining at her house upon the road at different times. Then he remembered
her and her home. Having fixed her own place in his recollection, she
tried to recall to him a certain scanty dinner of bread and milk that he
once ate at her house. He could not remember it--on the contrary, he
only remembered that he had always fared well at her house. "Well," said
she, "one day you came along after we had got through dinner, and we had
eaten up everything, and I could give you nothing but a bowl of bread
and milk; you ate it, and when you got up you said it was _good enough
for the President of the United States_." The good woman, remembering
the remark, had come in from the country, making a journey of eight or
ten miles, to relate to Lincoln this incident, which in her mind had
doubtless taken the form of prophecy. Lincoln placed her at her ease,
chatted with her of old times, and dismissed her in the most happy and
complacent frame of mind.
Among the judicious friends of Lincoln who gave him timely counsel at
this important epoch of his life was Judge John D. Caton, who, though a
Democrat, was a far-sighted man who saw plainly the tendency of
political affairs and was anxious for the preservation of the Union. "I
met Lincoln in Springfield," writes Judge Caton, "and we had a
conference in the law-library. I told him it was plain that he had a war
on his hands; that there was a determination on the part of the South to
secede from the Union, and that there would be throughout the North an
equal determination to maintain the Union. I advised him to avoid
bringing on the war by precipitate action, but let the Southerners begin
it; to forbear as long as forbearance could be tolerated, in order to
unite the North the more effectually to support his hands in the
struggle that was certain to come; that by such a course the great body
of the people of the North, of all parties, would come to his support.
Mr. Lincoln listened intently, and replied that he foresaw that the
struggle was inevitable, but that it would be his desire and effort to
unite the people in support of the Government and for the maintenance of
the Union; that he was aware that no single party could sustain him
successfully, and that he must rely upon the great masses of the people
of all parties, and he would try to pursue such a course as would secure
their support. The interview continued perhaps an hour."
Judge David Davis, a most intimate and confidential friend of Lincoln,
states that the latter was firmly determined to appoint "Democrats and
Republicans alike to office." Mr. Lamon corroborates the statement,
pointedly remarking: "He felt that his strength lay in conciliation at
the outset; that was his ruling conviction during all those months of
preparation for the great task before him. It showed itself not only in
the appointments which he sought to make but in those which he did make.
Harboring no jealousies, entertaining no fears concerning his personal
interests in the future, he called around him the most powerful of his
late rivals--Seward, Chase, Bates--and unhesitatingly gave into their
hands powers which most Presidents would have shrunk from committing to
their equals, and much more to their superiors, in the conduct of public
affairs." In a noted instance where the most powerful influence was
brought to bear upon Lincoln to induce him to make what he regarded as
an unworthy appointment, he exclaimed: "All that I am in the world--the
Presidency and all else--I owe to the opinion of me which the people
express when they call me 'Honest Old Abe.' Now, what would they think
of their _honest_ Abe if he should make such an appointment as the one
proposed?"
Hon. Leonard Swett, who knew Lincoln from 1848 to the time of his death,
and had "traveled the circuit" with him in Illinois, relates that soon
after the election he and Judge Davis advised Lincoln to consult Thurlow
Weed regarding the formation of the Cabinet and on political affairs
generally. "Mr. Lincoln asked me," says Mr. Swett, "to write Mr. Weed
and invite him to a conference at Lincoln's house in Springfield. I did
so, and the result was that Judge Davis, Thurlow Weed, and myself spent
a whole day with him in discussing the men and measures of his
administration. At that meeting, which took place in less than a month
after Lincoln's election, or early in December, 1860, Lincoln became
convinced that war was imminent between the North and the South. Mr.
Weed was a very astute man, and had a wonderful knowledge of what was
going on. He told Lincoln of preparations being made in the Southern
States that could mean nothing less than war. It was a serious time with
all of us, of course, but Lincoln took it with the imperturbability that
always distinguished him."
The account given by Thurlow Weed, the veteran New York editor and
journalist, of his visit to Lincoln on this occasion is of peculiar
interest. Mr. Weed remained in Springfield two or three days in close
consultation with the President-elect, the formation of the new Cabinet
being the subject principally discussed. After expressing gratification
at his election, and an apprehension of the dangers which threatened the
incoming administration, says Mr. Weed, in his autobiography, "Mr.
Lincoln remarked, smiling, that he supposed I had had some experience in
cabinet-making; that he had job on hand, and as he had never learned
that trade he was disposed to avail himself of the suggestions of
friends. The question thus opened became the subject of conversation, at
intervals, during that and the following day. I say at intervals,
because many hours were consumed in talking of the public men connected
with former administrations, interspersed, illustrated, and seasoned
pleasantly with Mr. Lincoln's stories, anecdotes, etc. And here I feel
called upon to vindicate Mr. Lincoln, as far as my opportunities and
observation go, from the frequent imputation of telling indelicate and
ribald stories. I saw much of him during his whole Presidential term,
with familiar friends and alone, when he talked without restraint; but I
_never heard him use a profane or indecent word, or tell a story that
might not be repeated in the presence of ladies_."
"Mr. Lincoln observed," continues Mr. Weed, "that the making of a
Cabinet, now that he had it to do, was by no means as easy as he had
supposed; that he had, even before the result of the election was known,
assuming the probability of success, fixed upon the two leading members
of his Cabinet, but that in looking about for suitable men to fill the
other departments he had been much embarrassed, partly from his want of
acquaintance with the prominent men of the day, and partly because he
believed that while the population of the country had immensely
increased _really great men were scarcer than they used to be_.... As
the conversation progressed, Lincoln remarked that he intended to invite
Governor Seward to take the State Department and Governor Chase the
Treasury Department, remarking that aside from their long experience in
public affairs and their eminent fitness they were prominently before
the people and the convention as competitors for the Presidency, each
having higher claims than his own for the place which he was to occupy.
On naming Hon. Gideon Welles as the man he thought of as the
representative of New England in the Cabinet, I remarked that I thought
he could find several New England gentlemen whose selection for a place
in his Cabinet would be more acceptable to the people of New England.
'But,' said Mr. Lincoln, 'we must remember that the Republican party is
constituted of two elements, and that we must have men of Democratic as
well as of Whig antecedents in the Cabinet.' ... In the course of our
conversations Mr. Lincoln remarked that it was particularly pleasant to
him to reflect that he was coming into office unembarrassed by promises.
He owed, he supposed, his exemption from importunities to the
circumstance that his name as a candidate was but a short time before
the people, and that only a few sanguine friends anticipated the
possibility of his nomination. 'I have not,' said he, 'promised an
office to any man, nor have I, but in a single instance, mentally
committed myself to an appointment.'"
"In this way two days passed very pleasantly," says Mr. Weed, "the
conversation being alternately earnest and playful. I wish it were
possible to give, in Mr. Lincoln's amusing but quaint manner, the many
stories, anecdotes, and witticisms with which he interlarded and
enlivened what with almost any of his predecessors in the high office of
President would have been a grave, dry consultation. The great merit of
Mr. Lincoln's stories, like Captain Bunsby's opinion, 'lays in the
application on it.' They always and exactly suited the occasion and the
object, and none to which I ever listened seemed far-fetched or
pointless. I will attempt to repeat one of them. If I have an especial
fondness for any particular luxury, it manifests itself in a remarkable
way when properly made December sausages are placed before me. While at
breakfast, Judge Davis, noticing that, after having been bountifully
served with sausage, like Oliver Twist I wanted some more, said, 'You
seem fond of our Illinois sausages.' To which I responded affirmatively,
adding that I thought the article might be relied on where pork was
cheaper than dogs. 'That,' said Mr. Lincoln, 'reminds me of what
occurred down at Joliet, where a popular grocer supplied all the
villagers with sausages. One Saturday evening, when his grocery was
filled with customers for whom he and his boys were busily engaged in
weighing sausages, a neighbor with whom he had had a violent quarrel
that day, came into the grocery and made his way up to the counter
holding by the tail two enormous dead cats which he deliberately threw
on to the counter, saying, 'This makes seven to-day. I'll call around
Monday and get my money for them.'"
* * * * *
During the months intervening between his election and his departure for
Washington, Lincoln maintained a keen though quiet watchfulness of the
threatening aspect of affairs at the national capital and throughout the
South. He was careful not to commit himself by needless utterances as to
his future policy; but in all his demeanor, as a friend said, he
displayed the firmness and determination, without the temper, of
Jackson. In December following his election he wrote the following
letters to his intimate friend, Hon. E.B. Washburne, then a member of
Congress from Illinois:
SPRINGFIELD, ILL., Dec. 13, 1860.
HON. E.B. WASHBURNE--_My Dear Sir_: Your long letter received.
Prevent, as far as possible, any of our friends from demoralizing
themselves and our cause by entertaining propositions for
compromise of any sort on the slavery extension. There is no
possible compromise upon it but which puts us under again, and
leaves us all our work to do over again. Whether it be a Missouri
line, or Eli Thayer's Popular Sovereignty, it is all the same. Let
either be done, and immediately filibustering and extending slavery
recommences. On that point hold firm, as with a chain of steel.
Yours as ever, A. LINCOLN.
SPRINGFIELD, ILL., Dec. 21, 1860.
HON. E.B. WASHBURNE--_My Dear Sir_: Last night I received your
letter giving an account of your interview with General Scott, and
for which I thank you. Please present my respects to the General,
and tell him confidentially that I shall be obliged to him to be as
well prepared as he can to either _hold_ or retake the forts, as
the case may require, at and after the inauguration.
Yours as ever, A. LINCOLN.
The Southern States, led on by South Carolina, which formally severed
its connection with the Union November 17, 1860 (only eleven days after
Lincoln's election), were preparing to dissolve their alliance with the
Free States. Mississippi passed the ordinance of secession January 9,
1861; Florida followed on the 10th; Alabama on the 11th; Georgia on the
19th; Louisiana on the 25th; and Texas on the 1st day of February. The
plans of the seceders went on, unmolested by the Buchanan
administration. Southerners in the Cabinet and in Congress conspired to
deplete the resources of the Government, leaving it helpless to contest
the assumptions of the revolted States. The treasury was deliberately
bankrupted; the ships of the navy were banished to distant ports; the
Northern arsenals were rifled to furnish arms for the seceded States;
the United States forts and armaments on the Southern coast were
delivered into the hands of the enemy, with the exception of Fort
Sumter, which was gallantly held by Major Robert Anderson. While this
system of bold and unscrupulous treachery was carried on by men in the
highest places of trust, the chief executive of the nation remained a
passive spectator. The South was in open rebellion, and the North was
powerless to interfere. The weeks prior to the inauguration of the new
administration dragged slowly along, each day adding fresh cause for
anxiety and alarm.
Amidst these portentous scenes Lincoln, watching them from a distance,
maintained his calm and vigilant attitude. No one knew better than he
the significance of these ominous events that were taking place at the
nation's capital and in the disaffected States; but there was nothing he
could do about them. His time for action had not yet come. He said
little, but enough to show unmistakably what he thought of the situation
and what course he had resolved upon to meet it. As early as December
17, 1860--a little more than a month after his election--in writing to
Thurlow Weed, he said: "_My opinion is that no State can in any way get
out of the Union without the consent of the other States_; and that _it
is the duty of the President to run the machine as it is_." He had been
made the pilot of the ship of State, and his duty and purpose were to
save the vessel.[B] Upon this mighty task were concentrated all the
powers of his intellect and will; and through all the desperate voyage
that followed he never wavered or faltered in his course, from the time
of his supreme resolve, made in the quiet of his country home, to the
hour when
"From fearful trip the victor ship came in with object won"--
but with her more than heroic but now victorious Captain "fallen cold
and dead" upon her deck.
As the winter wore away, and the time for Lincoln's inauguration as
President drew near, he began making preparation for leaving the
familiar scenes where his life had thus far been spent. Early in
February he made a parting visit to his relatives in Coles County, to
whom in this hour of grave trial and anxiety his heart turned with fresh
yearning. He spent a night at Charleston, where his cousin Dennis Hanks,
and Mrs. Colonel Chapman, a daughter of Dennis, resided. We are told
that "the people crowded by hundreds to see him; and he was serenaded by
'both the string and brass bands of the town, but declined making a
speech." The following morning he passed on to Farmington, to the home
of his beloved step-mother, who was living with her daughter, Mrs.
Moore. Mr. Lamon relates that "the meeting between him and the old lady
was of a most affectionate and tender character. She fondled him as her
own 'Abe,' and he her as his own mother. Then Lincoln and Colonel
Chapman drove to the house of John Hall, who lived on the old 'Lincoln
farm' where Abe split the celebrated rails and fenced in the little
clearing in 1830. Thence they went to the spot where Lincoln's father
was buried. The grave was unmarked and utterly neglected. Lincoln said
he wanted to 'have it enclosed, and a suitable tombstone erected,'" and
gave the necessary instructions for this purpose. "We then returned,"
says Colonel Chapman, "to Farmington, where we found a large crowd of
citizens--nearly all old acquaintances--waiting to see him. His
reception was very enthusiastic, and seemed to gratify him very much.
After taking dinner at his stepsister's (Mrs. Moore's), he returned to
Charleston. Our conversation during the trip was mostly concerning
family affairs. On the way down to Farmington Mr. Lincoln spoke to me of
his step-mother in the most affectionate manner; said she had been his
best friend, and that no son could love a mother more than he loved her.
He also told me of the condition of his father's family at the time he
married his step-mother, and of the change she made in the family, and
of the encouragement he had received from her.... He spoke of his
father, and related some amusing incidents of the bull-dog's biting the
old man on his return from New Orleans; of the old man's escape, when a
boy, from an Indian who was shot by his uncle Mordecai, etc. He spoke of
his uncle Mordecai as being a man of very great natural gifts. At
Charleston we found the house crowded by people wishing to see him. The
crowd finally became so great that it was decided to hold a public
reception at the Town Hall that evening at seven o'clock; until then
Lincoln wished to be left with relatives and friends. At the Town Hall
large numbers of people from the town and surrounding country,
irrespective of party, called to see him. His reception by his old
acquaintances was very gratifying to him."
A characteristic anecdote showing Lincoln's friendship and love of old
associations is told among those relating to his last days at
Springfield. When he was about to leave for Washington he went to the
dingy little law office, sat down on the couch, and said to his
law-partner, Herndon, "Billy, you and I have been together nearly twenty
years, and have never 'passed a word.' Will you let my name stay on the
old sign till I come back from Washington?" The tears started to Mr.
Herndon's eyes. He put out his hand. "Mr. Lincoln," said he, "I will
never have any other partner while you live"; and to the day of the
assassination all the doings of the firm were in the name of "Lincoln &
Herndon."
Governor Bross, of Illinois, relates that he was with Lincoln at
Springfield on the day before he left for Washington. "We were walking
slowly to his home from some place where we had met, and the condition
and prospects of the country, and his vast responsibility in assuming
the position of President, were the subjects of his thoughts. These were
discussed with a breadth and anxiety full of that pathos peculiar to Mr.
Lincoln in his thoughtful moods. He seemed to have a thorough prescience
of the dangers through which his administration was to pass. No
President, he said, had ever had before him such vast and far-reaching
responsibilities. He regarded war--long, bitter, and dreadful--as almost
sure to come. He distinctly and reverently placed his hopes for the
result in the strength and guidance of Him on whom Washington relied in
the darkest hours of the Revolution. He would take the place to which
Providence and his countrymen had called him, and do the best he could
for the integrity and the welfare of the Republic. For himself, he
scarcely expected ever to see Illinois again."
On the morning of the 11th of February, 1861, Lincoln left his home in
Springfield for the scene where he was to spend the most anxious,
toilsome, and painful years of his life. An elaborate programme had been
prepared for his journey to Washington, which was to conduct him through
the principal cities of Indiana, Ohio, New York, New Jersey,
Pennsylvania, and Maryland, and consume much of the time intervening
before the 4th of March. Special trains, preceded by pilot-engines,
were prepared for his accommodation. He was accompanied at his departure
by his wife and three sons, and a party of friends, including Governor
Yates, ex-Governor Moore, Dr. W.M. Wallace (his brother-in-law), N.B.
Judd, O.H. Browning, Ward H. Lamon, David Davis, Col. E.E. Ellsworth,
and John M. Hay and J.G. Nicolay, the two latter to be his private
secretaries. Mr. Lamon thus graphically describes the incidents of his
leave-taking: "It was a gloomy day; heavy clouds floated overhead, and a
cold rain was falling. Long before eight o'clock a great mass of people
had collected at the railway station. At precisely five minutes before
eight, Mr. Lincoln, preceded by Mr. Wood, emerged from a private room in
the depot building, and passed slowly to the car, the people falling
back respectfully on either side, and as many as possible shaking his
hands. Having reached the train, he ascended the rear platform, and,
facing about to the throng which had closed around him, drew himself up
to his full height, removed his hat, and stood for several seconds in
profound silence. His eye roved sadly over that sea of upturned faces,
as if seeking to read in them the sympathy and friendship which he never
needed more than then. There was an unusual quiver in his lip, and a
still more unusual tear on his shriveled cheek. His solemn manner, his
long silence, were as full of melancholy eloquence as any words he could
have uttered. What did he think of? Of the mighty changes which had
lifted him from the lowest to the highest estate on earth? Of the weary
road which had brought him to this lofty summit? Of his poor mother
lying beneath the tangled underbrush in a distant forest? Of that other
grave in the quiet Concord cemetery? Whatever the character of his
thoughts, it is evident that they were retrospective and sad. To those
who were anxiously waiting to catch his words it seemed long until he
had mastered his feelings sufficiently to speak. At length he began, in
a husky voice, and slowly and impressively delivered his farewell to his
neighbors. Imitating his example, many in the crowd stood with heads
uncovered in the fast-falling rain." Abraham Lincoln spoke none but true
and sincere words, and none more true and heartfelt ever fell from his
lips than these, so laden with pathos, with humility, with a craving for
the sympathy of his friends and the people, and for help above and
beyond all earthly power and love.
_My Friends_:--No one not in my position can realize the sadness I
feel at this parting. To this people I owe all that I am. Here I
have lived more than a quarter of a century. Here my children were
born, and here one of them lies buried. I know not how soon I shall
see you again. I go to assume a task more difficult than that which
has devolved upon any other man since the days of Washington. He
never would have succeeded except for the aid of Divine Providence,
upon which he at all times relied. I feel that I cannot succeed
without the same Divine blessing which sustained him; and on the
same Almighty Being I place my reliance for support. And I hope
you, my friends, will all pray that I may receive that Divine
assistance, without which I cannot succeed, but with which success
is certain. Again I bid you an affectionate farewell.
The route chosen for the journey to Washington, as has been stated, was
a circuitous one. It seems to have been Lincoln's desire to meet
personally the people of the great Northern States upon whose devotion
and loyalty he prophetically felt he must depend for the salvation of
the Republic. Everywhere he met the warmest and most generous greetings
from the throngs assembled at the railway stations in the various cities
through which he passed. At Indianapolis, where the first important halt
was made, cannon announced the arrival of the party, and a royal welcome
was accorded the distinguished traveler. In this, as in the other cities
at which he stopped, Lincoln made a brief address to the people. His
remarks were well considered and temperate; his manner was serious, his
expressions thoughtful and full of feeling. He entreated the people to
be calm and patient; to stand by the principles of liberty inwrought
into the fabric of the Constitution; to have faith in the strength and
reality of the Government, and faith in his purpose to discharge his
duties honestly and impartially. He referred continually to his trust in
the Almighty Ruler of the Universe to guide the nation safely out of its
present peril and perplexity. "I judge," he said at Columbus, "that all
we want is time and patience, and a reliance in that God who has never
forsaken His people." Again, he said: "Let the people on both sides keep
their self-possession, and just as other clouds have cleared away in due
time, so will this; and this great nation shall continue to prosper as
heretofore." Alluding more definitely to his purposes for the future, he
declared: "I shall do all that may be in my power to promote a peaceful
settlement of all our difficulties. The man does not live who is more
devoted to peace than I am--none who would do more to preserve it. _But
it may be necessary to put the foot down firmly_."
At the conclusion of Lincoln's speech at Columbus, a tremendous crowd
surged forward to shake his hand. Says Dr. Holland: "Every man in the
crowd was anxious to wrench the hand of Abraham Lincoln. He finally gave
both hands to the work, with great good nature. To quote one of the
reports of the occasion: 'People plunged at his arms with frantic
enthusiasm, and all the infinite variety of shakes, from the wild and
irrepressible pump-handle movement to the dead grip, was executed upon
the devoted _dexter_ and _sinister_ of the President. Some glanced at
his face as they grasped his hand; others invoked the blessings of
heaven upon him; others affectionately gave him their last gasping
assurance of devotion; others, bewildered and furious, with hats crushed
over their eyes, seized his hands in a convulsive grasp, and passed on
as if they had not the remotest idea who, what, or where they were.' The
President at last escaped, and took refuge in the Governor's residence,
although he held a levee at the State House in the evening, where in a
more quiet way he met many prominent citizens."
At Cincinnati, where Lincoln had had so distasteful an experience a few
years before, a magnificent ovation greeted him. The scene is described
by one who witnessed it--Hon. William Henry Smith, at that time a
resident of Cincinnati. "It was on the 13th of February that Mr. Lincoln
reached the Queen City. The day was mild for mid-winter, but the sky was
overcast with clouds, emblematic of the gloom that filled the hearts of
the unnumbered thousands who thronged the streets and covered the
house-tops. Lincoln rode in an open carriage, standing erect with
uncovered head, and steadying himself by holding on to a board fastened
to the front part of the vehicle. A more uncomfortable ride than this,
over the bouldered streets of Cincinnati, cannot well be imagined.
Perhaps a journey over the broken roads of Eastern Russia, in a
tarantass, would secure to the traveler as great a degree of discomfort.
Mr. Lincoln bore it with characteristic patience. His face was very sad,
but he seemed to take a deep interest in everything. It was not without
due consideration that the President-elect touched on the border of a
slave State on his way to the capital. In his speech in reply to the
Mayor of Cincinnati, recognizing the fact that among his auditors were
thousands of Kentuckians, he addressed them directly, calling them
'Friends,' 'Brethren.' He reminded them that when speaking in Fifth
Street Market square in 1859 he had promised that when the Republicans
came into power they would treat the Southern or slave-holding people as
Washington, Jefferson, and Madison treated them; that they would
interfere with their institutions in no way, but abide by all and every
compromise of the Constitution, and 'recognize and bear in mind always
that you have as good hearts in your bosoms as other people, or as we
claim to have, and treat you accordingly.' Then, to emphasize this, he
said--in a passage omitted by Mr. Raymond and all other biographers of
Lincoln--
And now, fellow-citizens of Ohio, have you who agree in political
sentiment with him who now addresses you ever entertained other
sentiments towards our brethren of Kentucky than those I have
expressed to you? [_Loud and repeated cries of 'No!' 'No!'_] If
not, then why shall we not, as heretofore, be recognized and
acknowledged as brethren again, living in peace and harmony, one
with another? [_Cries of 'We will!'_] I take your response as the
most reliable evidence that it may be so, along with other
evidence, trusting to the good sense of the American people, on all
sides of all rivers in America, under the Providence of God, who
has never deserted us, that we shall again be brethren, forgetting
all parties--ignoring all parties.
"This statesmanlike expression of conservative opinion," continues Mr.
Smith, "alarmed some of the Republicans, who feared that the new
President might sell out his party; and steps were taken, later in the
day, to remind him of certain principles deemed fundamental by those who
had been attracted to the party of Freedom. The sequel will show how
this was done, and how successfully Mr. Lincoln met the unexpected
attack. In the evening I called, with other citizens, at Mr. Lincoln's
rooms at the Burnet House to pay my respects. Mr. Lincoln had put off
the melancholy mood that appeared to control him during the day, and was
entertaining those present with genial, even lively, conversation. The
pleasant entertainment was interrupted by the announcement that a
delegation of German workingmen were about to serenade Mr. Lincoln.
Proceeding to the balcony, there were seen the faces of nearly two
thousand of the substantial German citizens who had voted for Mr.
Lincoln because they believed him to be a stout champion of free labor
and free homesteads. The remarks of their spokesman, Frederick
Oberkleine, set forth in clear terms what they expected. He said:
We, the German free workingmen of Cincinnati, avail ourselves of
this opportunity to assure you, our chosen Chief Magistrate, of our
sincere and heartfelt regard. You earned our votes as the champion
of Free Labor and Free Homesteads. Our vanquished opponents have,
in recent times, made frequent use of the terms "Workingmen" and
"Workingmen's Meetings," in order to create an impression that the
mass of workingmen were _in favor of compromises between the
interests of free labor and slave labor, by which the victory just
won would be turned into a defeat_. This is a despicable device of
dishonest men. _We spurn such compromises. We firmly adhere to the
principles which directed our votes in your favor. We trust that
you, the self-reliant because self-made man, will uphold the
Constitution and the laws against secret treachery and avowed
treason_. If to this end you should be in need of men, the German
free workingmen, with others, will rise as one man at your call,
ready to risk their lives in the effort to maintain the victory
already won by freedom over slavery.
"This was bringing the rugged issue boldly to the front, and challenging
the President-elect to meet the issue or risk the loss of the support of
an important section of his own party. Oberkleine spoke with great
effect, but the remarks were hardly his own. Some abler man had put into
his mouth these significant words. Mr. Lincoln replied, very
deliberately, but without hesitation, as follows:
MR. CHAIRMAN:--I thank you, and those you represent, for the
compliment paid me by the tender of this address. In so far as
there is an allusion to our present national difficulty, and the
suggestion of the views of the gentlemen who present this address,
I beg you will excuse me from entering particularly upon it. I deem
it due to myself and the whole country, in the present
extraordinary condition of the country and of public opinion, that
I should wait and see the last development of public opinion before
I give my views or express myself at the time of the inauguration.
I hope at that time to be false to nothing you have been taught to
expect of me. [_Cheers_.]
I agree with you, Mr. Chairman, and with the address of your
constituents, in the declaration that workingmen are the basis of
all governments. That remark is due to them more than to any other
class, for the reason that there are more of them than of any other
class. And as your address is presented to me not only on behalf of
workingmen, but especially of Germans, I may say a word as to
classes. I hold that the value of life is to improve one's
condition. Whatever is calculated to advance the condition of the
honest, struggling laboring man, so far as my judgment will enable
me to judge of a correct thing, I am for that thing.
An allusion has been made to the Homestead Law. I think it worthy
of consideration, and that the wild lands of the country should be
distributed so that every man should have the means and opportunity
of benefiting his condition. [_Cheers_.] I have said that I do not
desire to enter into details, nor will I.
In regard to Germans and foreigners, I esteem foreigners no better
than other people--nor any worse. [_Laughter and cheers_.] They are
all of the great family of men, and if there is one shackle upon
any of them it would be far better to lift the load from them than
to pile additional loads upon them. [_Cheers_.] And inasmuch as the
continent of America is comparatively a new country, and the other
countries of the world are old countries, there is more room here,
comparatively speaking, than there is elsewhere; and if they can
better their condition by leaving their old homes, there is nothing
in my heart to forbid them coming, and I bid them all God speed.
[_Cheers_.] Again, gentlemen, thanking you for your address, I bid
you good night.
"If anyone," says Mr. Smith, "had expected to trap Mr. Lincoln into
imprudent utterances, or the indulgence of the rhetoric of a demagogue,
this admirable reply showed how completely they were disappointed. The
preservation of this speech is due to my accidental presence. The
visitation of the Germans was not on the programme, and none of the
representatives of the press charged with the duty of reporting the
events of the day were present. Observing this, I took short-hand notes
on the envelope of an old letter loaned me for the occasion, and
afterwards wrote them out. The words of Mr. Lincoln, exactly as spoken,
are given above."
At Cleveland the party remained over for a day, and Lincoln was greeted
with the usual friendly enthusiasm. An immense crowd met him at the
depot, and he was escorted to the Weddell House, where a reception was
given him in the evening. Hon. A.G. Riddle, then a resident of
Cleveland, and a newly elected member of the Congress which was to share
with Lincoln the burdens and responsibilities of the Civil War, was
present on that occasion, and furnishes the following interesting
personal recollections of it: "I saw Abraham Lincoln for the first time,
at the Weddell House that evening. He stood on the landing-place at the
top of a broad stairway, and the crowd approached him from below. This
gave him an exaggerated advantage of his six feet four inches of length.
The shapelessness of the lathy form, the shock of coarse black hair
surmounting the large head, the retreating forehead--these were not
apparent where we stood. My heart sprang up to him--the coming man. Of
the thousand times I afterward saw him, the first view remains the most
distinct impression; and never again to me was he more imposing. As we
approached, someone whispered of me to him; he took my hand in both his
for an instant, and we wheeled into the already crowded rooms. His
manner was strongly Western; his speech and pronunciation Southwestern.
Wholly without self-consciousness with men, he was constrained and ill
at ease when surrounded, as he several times was, by fashionably dressed
ladies. One incident of the evening I particularly recall. Ab McElrath
was in the crowd--a handsome giant, an Apollo in youth, of about Mr.
Lincoln's height. What brought it about, I do not know; but I saw them
standing back to back, in a contest of altitude--Mr. Lincoln and Ab
McElrath--the President-elect, the chosen, the nation's leader in the
thick-coming darkness, and the tavern-keeper and fox-hunter. The crowd
applauded.
"Mr. Lincoln presented me to the gentlemen of his party--Mr. Browning,
Mr. Judd, and Mr. Lamon, I remember, as I later became very well
acquainted with them; also the rough-looking Colonel Sumner of the army.
Mr. Lincoln invited me to accompany him for at least a day on his
eastward journey. I joined him the next morning at the station. The
vivacity of the night before had utterly vanished, and the rudely
sculptured cliffy face struck me as one of the saddest I had ever seen.
The eyes especially had a depth of melancholy which I had never seen in
human eyes before. Some things he wished to know from me, especially
regarding Mr. Chase, whom, among others, he had called to Springfield.
He asked me no direct questions, but I very soon found myself speaking
freely to him, and was able to explain some not well-known features of
Ohio politics--and much to his satisfaction, as he let me see. There was
then some talk of Mr. Seward, and more of Senator Cameron. All three had
been his rivals at Chicago, and were, as I then thought, in his mind as
possible Cabinet ministers; although no word was said by him of such an
idea in reference to either. Presently he conducted me to Mrs. Lincoln,
whom I had not before seen. Presenting me, he returned to the gentlemen
of the party, and I saw little more of him except once when he returned
to us, before I left the train. Mrs. Lincoln impressed me very
favorably, as a woman of spirit, intelligence, and decided opinions,
which she put very clearly. Our conversation was mainly of her husband.
I remarked that all the likenesses I had ever seen of him did him
injustice. This evidently pleased her. I suggested that a full beard
from the under lip down (his face was shaven) would relieve and help him
very much. This interested her, and we discussed it and the character
of his face quite fully. The impression I then formed of this most
unfortunate lady was only deepened by the pleasant acquaintance she
permitted, down to the time of the national calamity, which unsettled
her mind as I always thought."
Of the New York City visit, an excellent account is given by the
distinguished preacher and writer, Dr. S. Irenæus Prime. "The country
was at that moment," says Dr. Prime, "in the first throes of the great
rebellion. Millions of hearts were beating anxiously in view of the
advent to power of this untried man. Had he been called of God to the
throne of power at such a time as this, to be the leader and deliverer
of the people? As the carriage in which he sat passed slowly by me on
the Fifth avenue, he was looking weary, sad, feeble, and faint. My
disappointment was excessive; so great, indeed, as to be almost
overwhelming. He did not look to me to be the man for the hour. The next
day I was with him and others in the Governor's room in the City Hall,
when the Mayor of the city made an official address. Mr. Lincoln's reply
was so modest, firm, patriotic, and pertinent, that my fears of the day
before began to subside, and I saw in this new man a promise of great
things to come. It was not boldness or dash, or high-sounding pledges;
nor did he while in office, with the mighty armies of a roused nation at
his command, ever assume to be more than he promised in that little
upper chamber in New York, on his journey to the seat of Government, to
take the helm of the ship of state then tossing in the storm."
Before the end of the journey, strong fears prevailed in the minds of
Lincoln's friends that an attempt would be made to assassinate him
before he should reach Washington. Every precaution was taken to thwart
such endeavor; although Lincoln himself was disturbed by no thought of
danger. He had done, he contemplated doing, no wrong, no injustice to
any citizen of the United States; why then should there be a desire to
strike him down? Thus he reasoned; and he was free from any dread of
personal peril. But the officials of the railroads over which he was to
pass, and his friends in Washington, felt that there was cause for
apprehension. It was believed by them that a plot existed for making
away with Lincoln while passing through Baltimore, a city in the heart
of a slave State, and rife with the spirit of rebellion. Detectives had
been employed to discover the facts in the matter, and their reports
served to confirm the most alarming conjectures. A messenger was
despatched from Washington to intercept the Presidential party and warn
Lincoln of the impending danger. Dr. Holland states that "the detective
and Mr. Lincoln reached Philadelphia nearly at the same time, and there
the former submitted to a few of the President's friends the information
he had secured. An interview between Mr. Lincoln and the detective was
immediately arranged, and took place in the apartments of the former at
the Continental Hotel. Mr. Lincoln, having heard the officer's statement
in detail, then informed him that he had promised to raise the American
flag on Independence Hall the following morning--the anniversary of
Washington's birthday--and that he had accepted an invitation to a
reception by the Pennsylvania Legislature in the afternoon of the same
day. 'Both of these engagements I will keep,' said Mr. Lincoln, '_if it
costs me my life_.' For the rest, he authorized the detective to make
such arrangements as he thought proper for his safe conduct to
Washington."
In the meantime, according to Dr. Holland, General Scott and Senator
Seward, both of whom were in Washington, learned from independent
sources that Lincoln's life was in danger, and concurred in sending Mr.
Frederick W. Seward to Philadelphia to urge upon him the necessity of
proceeding immediately to Washington in a quiet way. The messenger
arrived late on Thursday night, after Lincoln had retired, and requested
an audience. Lincoln's fears had already been aroused, and he was
cautious, of course, in the matter of receiving a stranger. But
satisfied that the messenger was indeed the son of Mr. Seward, he
received him. Nothing needed to be done except to inform him of the plan
entered into with the detective, by which the President was to arrive in
Washington early on Saturday morning, in advance of his family and
party.
On the morning of the 22d, Lincoln, as he had promised, attended the
flag-raising at Independence Hall in Philadelphia, the historic building
in which had been adopted the Declaration of Independence. The occasion
was a memorable one, and Lincoln's address eloquent and impressive. "All
the political sentiments I entertain," said he, "have been drawn from
the sentiments which were given to the world from this hall." He spoke
calmly but firmly of his resolve to stand by the principles of the
immortal Declaration and of the Constitution of his country; and, as
though conscious of the dangers of his position, he added solemnly: "I
have said nothing but what I am willing to live by, _and, if it be the
pleasure of Almighty God, to die by_."
From Philadelphia Lincoln went immediately to Harrisburg, and attended
the reception given him by the Pennsylvania Legislature, in the
afternoon of the same day. Then, leaving his hotel in the evening,
attended only by Mr. Lamon and the detective (Mr. Allan Pinkerton), he
was driven to the depot, where he took the regular train for Washington.
The train passed through Baltimore in the night, and early the next
morning (February 23) reached the capital. Mr. Washburne, who had been
notified to be at the depot on the arrival of the train, says: "I
planted myself behind one of the great pillars in the old Washington and
Baltimore depot, where I could see and not be observed. Presently, the
train came rumbling in on time. When it came to a stop I watched with
fear and trembling to see the passengers descend. I saw every car
emptied, and there was no Mr. Lincoln. I was well-nigh in despair, and
when about to leave I saw three persons slowly emerge from the last
sleeping-car. I could not mistake the long, lank form of Mr. Lincoln,
and my heart bounded with joy and gratitude. He had on a soft
low-crowned hat, a muffler around his neck, and a short overcoat. Anyone
who knew him at that time could not have failed to recognize him at
once; but I must confess he looked more like a well-to-do farmer from
one of the back towns of Jo Daviess County, coming to Washington to see
the city, take out his land warrant and get the patent for his farm,
than the President of the United States. The only persons that
accompanied Mr. Lincoln were Pinkerton, the well-known detective, and
Ward H. Lamon. When they were fairly on the platform, and a short
distance from the car, I stepped forward and accosted the President:
'How are you, Lincoln?' At this unexpected and rather familiar
salutation the gentlemen were apparently somewhat startled; but Mr.
Lincoln, who had recognized me, relieved them at once by remarking in
his peculiar voice: 'This is only Washburne!' Then we all exchanged
congratulations, and walked out to the front of the depot, where I had a
carriage in waiting. Entering the carriage (all four of us), we drove
rapidly to Willard's Hotel, entering on Fourteenth Street, before it was
fairly daylight."
General Stone, who was in command at Washington at that time, states
that both General Scott and himself "considered it almost a certainty
that Mr. Lincoln could not pass through Baltimore alive on the day
fixed," and adds: "I recommended that Mr. Lincoln should be officially
warned; and suggested that it would be best that he should take the
train that evening from Philadelphia, and so reach Washington early the
next day. General Scott directed me to see Mr. Seward, to whom he wrote
a few lines, which he handed me. I did not succeed in finding Mr. Seward
until past noon. I handed him the General's note. He listened
attentively to what I said, and asked me to write down my information
and suggestions. Then, taking the paper I had written, he hastily left.
The note I wrote was what Mr. Frederick Seward carried to Mr. Lincoln in
Philadelphia. Mr. Lincoln has stated that it was _this note_ which
induced him to change his journey as he did. _The stories of disguises
are all nonsense_. Mr. Lincoln merely took the sleeping-car in the night
train."
There is little doubt that the fears of Lincoln's friends regarding his
passage through Baltimore were well grounded; and that but for the
timely warnings and precautions the assassination of April, 1865, might
have taken place in February of 1861.