Civil War--Uprising of the Nation--The President's First Call for
Troops--Response of the Loyal North--The Riots in
Baltimore--Loyalty of Stephen A. Douglas--Douglas's Death--Blockade
of Southern Ports--Additional War Measures--Lincoln Defines the
Policy of the Government--His Conciliatory Course--His Desire to
Save Kentucky--The President's First Message to Congress--Gathering
of Troops in Washington--Reviews and Parades--Disaster at Bull
Run--The President Visits the Army--Good Advice to an Angry
Officer--A Peculiar Cabinet Meeting--Dark Days for Lincoln--A
"Black Mood" in the White House--Lincoln's Unfaltering
Courage--Relief in Story-telling--A Pretty Good Land
Title--"Measuring up" with Charles Sumner--General Scott "Unable as
a Politician"--A Good Drawing-plaster--The New York Millionaires
who Wanted a Gunboat--A Good Bridge-builder--A Sick Lot of
Office-seekers.
The Confederate attack upon Fort Sumter--a United States fort situated
at the mouth of Charleston Harbor, South Carolina--April 12, 1861, was
the signal that civil war had actually begun. Lincoln had thus far
maintained a conciliatory policy toward the States in rebellion, hoping
to the last that good sense and reason prevailing over rash and violent
impulses would induce them to resume their allegiance to the Government.
Their resort to arms and capture of forts and property of the United
States decided the course of the administration; and on the 15th of
April--forty-two days after his accession to the Presidency--Lincoln
issued a proclamation asking for the immediate enlistment of 75,000
volunteers,[C] and summoning Congress to convene in an extra session on
the 4th of July. The call was sent forth in the following form:
PROCLAMATION.
_By the President of the United States_.
WHEREAS, the laws of the United States have been for some time past
and now are opposed and the execution thereof obstructed in the
States of South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Florida, Mississippi,
Louisiana and Texas, by combinations too powerful to be suppressed
by the ordinary course of judicial proceedings, or by the powers
vested in the marshals by law; now, therefore, I, ABRAHAM LINCOLN,
President of the United States, in virtue of the power in me vested
by the Constitution and the laws, have thought fit to call forth,
and hereby do call forth, the militia of the several States of the
Union, to the aggregate number of seventy-five thousand, in order
to suppress said combinations and to cause the laws to be duly
executed.
The details of this object will be immediately communicated to the
State authorities through the War Department. I appeal to all loyal
citizens to favor, facilitate, and aid this effort to maintain the
honor, the integrity and existence of our National Union, and the
perpetuity of popular government, and to redress wrongs already
long enough endured. I deem it proper to say that the first service
assigned to the forces hereby called forth will probably be to
repossess the forts, places, and property which have been seized
from the Union; and in every event the utmost care will be
observed, consistently with the objects aforesaid, to avoid any
devastation, any destruction of, or interference with, property, or
any disturbance of peaceful citizens of any part of the country;
and I hereby command the persons composing the combinations
aforesaid to disperse and retire peaceably to their respective
abodes, within twenty days from this date.
Deeming that the present condition of public affairs presents an
extraordinary occasion, I do hereby, in virtue of the power in me
vested by the Constitution, convene both Houses of Congress. The
Senators and Representatives are, therefore, summoned to assemble
at their respective chambers, at twelve o'clock, noon, on Thursday,
the fourth day of July next, then and there to consider and
determine such measures as, in their wisdom, the public safety and
interest may seem to demand.
In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and caused the seal
of the United States to be affixed.
Done at the City of Washington, this fifteenth day of April, in the
year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-one, and of
the independence of the United States the eighty-fifth.
_By the President_, ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
WILLIAM H. SEWARD, Secretary of State.
The issue of this proclamation created the wildest enthusiasm throughout
the North. Scarcely a voice was raised against it, as it was seen to be
a measure of absolute necessity and of self-defense on the part of the
Government. "Every Northern State," says Mr. Henry I. Raymond,
"responded promptly to the President's demand, and from private persons,
as well as by the Legislatures, men, arms, and money were offered in
unstinted profusion, and with the most zealous alacrity, in support of
the Government. Massachusetts was first in the field, and on the first
day after the issue of the proclamation her Sixth regiment, completely
equipped, started from Boston for the national capital. Two more
regiments were also made ready, and took their departure within
forty-eight hours."
The Sixth Massachusetts regiment was attacked on its way to Washington,
on the 19th of April, by a mob in Baltimore, carrying a Confederate
flag, and several of its members were killed or severely wounded.
"This," continues Mr. Raymond, "inflamed to a still higher point the
excitement which already pervaded the country. The whole Northern
section of the Union felt outraged that troops should be assailed and
murdered on their way to protect the capital of the nation. In Maryland,
where the secession party was strong, there was also great excitement,
and the Governor of the State and the Mayor of Baltimore united in
urging, for prudential reasons, that no more troops should be brought
through that city." In answer to the remonstrances of Governor Hicks and
a committee from Maryland, who presented their petition in person,
Lincoln, intent on avoiding every cause of offense, and with a
forbearance that now seems incredible, replied: "Troops must be brought
here; but I make no point of bringing them through Baltimore. Without
any military knowledge myself, of course I must leave details to General
Scott. He hastily said this morning, in the presence of these gentlemen,
'March them around Baltimore, and not through it.' I sincerely hope the
General, on fuller reflection, will consider this practical and proper,
and that you will not object to it. By this, a collision of the people
of Baltimore with the troops will be avoided, unless they go out of
their way to seek it. I hope you will exert your influence to prevent
this. Now and ever, I shall do all in my power for peace, consistently
with the maintenance of the Government."
One of the most encouraging incidents of this opening chapter of the war
was the announcement that Stephen A. Douglas, the great leader of the
Democracy and the life-long political opponent of Lincoln, had declared
his purpose to stand by the Government. The effect of this action, at
this crisis, was most salutary; it ranged the Northern Democrats with
the defenders of the Union, and gave Lincoln a united North as the act
of no other individual could have done. From that time until his death
Douglas never faltered in his loyalty, and stood by the Government with
a zeal and patriotism which were above all lower considerations of
person or of party. On Sunday, the 14th of April, when Washington was
thrilling with excitement over the fall of Fort Sumter, Douglas called
on the President and after a brief conversation authorized a statement
to be telegraphed throughout the country that he was "fully prepared to
sustain the President in the exercise of all his Constitutional
functions, to preserve the Union, maintain the Government, and defend
the Federal capital. A firm policy and prompt action were necessary. The
capital was in danger, and must be defended at all hazards, and at any
expense of men and money." Faithful to his pledge, Douglas immediately
set out upon a tour through the Northwest, to strengthen, by his words
and presence, the spirit of loyalty among the people. He made a series
of eloquent speeches on his journey to Chicago, where he arrived worn
and spent with the fatigue and excitement of his undertaking. It was the
last and noblest service of his life. Illness ensued, and after a few
weeks of suffering he passed away, June 3, at the age of forty-eight.
His death was an irreparable loss, mourned by the President and the
nation.
The President's call for troops was succeeded on the 19th of April by a
proclamation declaring a blockade of Southern ports. The text of this
document is historically important, as definitely formulating the
attitude and policy of the Government.
_Whereas_, An insurrection against the Government of the United
States has broken out in the States of South Carolina, Georgia,
Alabama, Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas, and the laws
of the United States for the collection of the revenue cannot be
efficiently executed therein, conformably to that provision of the
Constitution which requires duties to be uniform throughout the
United States:
_And whereas_, A combination of persons, engaged in such
insurrection, have threatened to grant pretended letters of marque
to authorize the bearers thereof to commit assaults on the lives,
vessels, and property of good citizens of the country lawfully
engaged in commerce on the high seas, and in waters of the United
States:
_And whereas_, An Executive Proclamation has already been issued,
requiring the persons engaged in these disorderly proceedings to
desist therefrom, calling out a militia force for the purpose of
repressing the same, and convening Congress in extraordinary
session to deliberate and determine thereon:
Now, therefore, I, ABRAHAM LINCOLN, President of the United States,
with a view to the same purposes before mentioned, and to the
protection of the public peace, and the lives and property of quiet
and orderly citizens pursuing their lawful occupations, until
Congress shall have assembled and deliberated on the said unlawful
proceedings, or until the same shall have ceased, have further
deemed it advisable to set on foot a blockade of the ports within
the States aforesaid, in pursuance of the laws of the United
States, and of the laws of nations in such cases provided. For this
purpose a competent force will be posted so as to prevent entrance
and exit of vessels from the ports aforesaid. If, therefore, with a
view to violate such blockade, a vessel shall approach or shall
attempt to leave any of the said ports, she shall be duly warned by
the commander of one of the blockading vessels, who shall indorse
on her register the fact and date of such warning; and if the same
vessel shall again attempt to enter or leave the blockaded port,
she will be captured and sent to the nearest convenient port, for
such proceedings against her and her cargo, as prize, as may be
deemed advisable.
And I hereby proclaim and declare, that if any person, under the
pretended authority of said States, or under any other pretense,
shall molest a vessel of the United States, or the persons or cargo
on board of her, such person will be held amenable to the laws of
the United States for the prevention and punishment of piracy.
_By the President_, ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
WILLIAM H. SEWARD, Secretary of State.
WASHINGTON, April 19, 1861.
On the 27th of April the President issued a proclamation by which the
blockade of Southern ports was extended to the ports of North Carolina
and Virginia. And on the 16th of May, by another proclamation, the
President directed the commander of the United States forces in Florida
to "permit no person to exercise any office or authority upon the
islands of Key West, Tortugas, and Santa Rosa, which may be inconsistent
with the laws and Constitution of the United States; authorizing him, at
the same time, if he shall find it necessary, to suspend the writ of
_habeas corpus_, and to remove from the vicinity of the United States
fortresses all dangerous and suspected persons."
The Virginia Convention which passed the ordinance of secession (April
17) having appointed a committee to wait upon the President and
"respectfully ask him to communicate to this Convention the policy which
the Federal Executive intends to pursue in regard to the Confederate
States," Lincoln in reply thus clearly outlined the policy and purposes
of the Government:
In answer I have to say, that having at the beginning of my
official term expressed my intended policy as plainly as I was
able, it is with deep regret and mortification I now learn there is
great and injurious uncertainty in the public mind as to what that
policy is and what course I intend to pursue. Not having as yet
seen occasion to change, it is now my purpose to pursue the course
marked out in the Inaugural Address. I commend a careful
consideration of the whole document as the best expression I can
give to my purposes. As I then and therein said, I now repeat: "The
power confided in me will be used to hold, occupy, and possess
property and places belonging to the Government, and to collect the
duties and imposts; but beyond what is necessary for these objects
there will be no invasion, no using of force against or among the
people anywhere." By the words "property and places belonging to
the Government," I chiefly allude to the military posts and
property which were in possession of the Government when it came
into my hands. But if, as now appears to be true, in pursuit of a
purpose to drive the United States authority from these places, an
unprovoked assault has been made upon Fort Sumter, I shall hold
myself at liberty to repossess, if I can, like places which had
been seized before the Government was devolved upon me; and in any
event I shall, to the best of my ability, repel force by force. In
case it proves true that Fort Sumter has been assaulted, as is
reported, I shall, perhaps, cause the United States mails to be
withdrawn from all the States which claim to have seceded,
believing that the commencement of actual war against the
Government justifies and possibly demands it. I scarcely need to
say that I consider the military posts and property situated within
the States which claim to have seceded, as yet belonging to the
Government of the United States as much as they did before the
supposed secession. Whatever else I may do for the purpose, I shall
not attempt to collect the duties and imposts by any armed invasion
of any part of the country; not meaning by this, however, that I
may not land a force deemed necessary to relieve a fort upon the
border of the country. From the fact that I have quoted a part of
the Inaugural Address, it must not be inferred that I repudiate any
other part, the whole of which I reaffirm, except so far as what I
now say of the mails may be regarded as a modification.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
In the early period of Lincoln's administration he was hopeful that many
serious phases of the threatened trouble might be averted, and that the
better judgment of the citizens of the South might prevail. "For more
than a month after his inauguration," says Secretary Welles, "President
Lincoln indulged the hope, I may say felt a strong confidence, that
Virginia would not secede but would adhere to the Union.... That there
should be no cause of offense, no step that would precipitate or justify
secession, he enjoined forbearance from all unnecessary exercise of
political party authority." But he was very decided and determined as to
what his duty was and what his action would be if the secessionists and
disunionists pressed their case. He said: "The disunionists did not want
me to take the oath of office. I have taken it, and I intend to
administer the office for the benefit of the people, in accordance with
the Constitution and the law." He was especially anxious that Kentucky
should not be plunged into a rebellious war, as he saw that this State
would be of the utmost importance to the Union cause. Soon after the
bombardment of Fort Sumter a conference was held between the President
and a number of prominent Kentuckians then in Washington, at which
Lincoln expressed himself in the most earnest words. Kentucky, he
declared, "must not be precipitated into secession. She is the key to
the situation. With her faithful to the Union, the discord in the other
States will come to an end. She is now in the hands of those who do not
represent the people. The sentiment of her State officials must be
counteracted. We must arouse the young men of the State to action for
the Union. We must know what men in Kentucky have the confidence of the
people, and who can be relied on for good judgment, that they may be
brought to the support of the Government at once." He paid a high
tribute to the patriotism of the Southern men who had stood up against
secession. "But," said he, "they are, as a rule, beyond the meridian of
life, and their counsel and example do not operate quickly, if at all,
on the excitable nature of young men who become inflamed by the
preparations for war, and who in such a war as this will be, if it goes
on, are apt to go in on the side that gives the first opportunity. The
young men must not be permitted to drift away from us. I know that the
men who voted against me in Kentucky will not permit this Government to
be swept away by any such issue as that framed by the disunionists."
As Mr. Markland, a prominent Kentuckian, relates, in his reminiscences
of the period: "Immediately a campaign for the Union was begun in
Kentucky. The State could not be dragooned into open secession,
therefore the neutrality policy was adopted. That policy was more
rigidly observed by Mr. Lincoln than it was by his opponents, but he was
not misled by it. Judge Joseph Holt made eloquent appeals for the Union
through the columns of the press and from the forum, as did the Speeds,
the Goodloes, and many others of prominence. Rousseau, Jacobs,
Poundbaker, and others, stood guard in the Legislature, and by their
eloquence stayed the tide of disunion there. The labors of Judge Holt,
the Speeds, the Goodloes, Cassius M. Clay, and their followers, had
brought forth fruit for the Union. The patriotic men in the Legislature
had done their work well. The men in the camps on the north side of the
Ohio river moved over into Kentucky, and the invasion of Confederates
which was to sweep Kentucky into secession was at an end. Kentucky was
saved to the Union by the wise counsel and pacific policy of Abraham
Lincoln."
A special session of Congress convened on the 4th of July, in obedience
to the summons of the President in his proclamation of April 15. The
following day the message of the Executive rehearsed to the joint Houses
the circumstances which had rendered their assembling necessary. It
portrayed in clear and succinct words the situation of affairs, the
aggressive acts of the States aiming to disrupt the Federal Union, and
the measures adopted by the administration to frustrate their attempts.
The assailants of the Government, said the President, "have forced upon
the country the distinct issue, 'immediate dissolution or blood.' And
this issue embraces more than the fate of these United States. It
presents to the whole family of man the question whether a
constitutional Republic or Democracy--a Government of the people by the
same people--can or cannot maintain its territorial integrity against
its own domestic foes. It presents the question whether discontented
individuals, too few in numbers to control administration according to
organic law in any case, can always, upon the pretenses made in this
case, or on any other pretenses, or arbitrarily, without any pretense,
break up their Government, and thus practically put an end to free
government upon the earth. It forces us to ask, 'Is there, in all
Republics, this inherent and fatal weakness? Must a Government, of
necessity, be too strong for the liberties of its own people, or too
weak to maintain its own existence?'" The message requested of Congress
"the legal means for making this contest a short and decisive one; that
you place at the control of the Government, for the work, at least four
hundred thousand men and $400,000,000. That number of men is about
one-tenth of those of proper ages within the regions where, apparently,
all are willing to engage; and the sum is less than a twenty-third part
of the money value owned by the men who seem ready to devote the whole.
A debt of $600,000,000 now is a less sum per head than was the debt of
our Revolution when we came out of that struggle; and the money value in
the country now bears even a greater proportion to what it was then than
does the population. Surely each man has as strong a motive now to
preserve our liberties as each had then to establish them." The message
dwelt upon the encouraging facts "that the free institutions we enjoy
have developed the powers and improved the condition of our whole people
beyond any example in the world. Of this we now have a striking and an
impressive illustration. So large an army as the Government has now on
foot was never before known without a soldier in it but had taken his
place there of his own free choice. But more than this; there are many
single regiments whose members, one and another, possess full practical
knowledge of all the arts, sciences, professions, and whatever else,
whether useful or elegant, is known in the world; and there is scarcely
one from which there could not be selected a President, a Cabinet, a
Congress, and perhaps a Court, abundantly competent to administer the
Government itself." Finally, and eloquently, the message demonstrated
the significance of the war in its effect upon the liberties and
prayers of all mankind. This message again illustrates Lincoln's
singular power of stating clearly and convincingly the nature and
exigencies of the struggle for the Preservation of the Union. Said he:
This is essentially a people's contest. On the side of the Union it
is a struggle for maintaining in the world that form and substance
of government whose leading object is to elevate the condition of
men; to lift artificial weights from all shoulders; to clear the
paths of laudable pursuits for all; to afford all an unfettered
start and a fair chance in the race of life. Yielding to partial
and temporary departures, from necessity, this is the leading
object of the Government for whose existence we contend. I am most
happy to believe that the plain people understand and appreciate
this. It is worthy of note that while, in this the Government's
hour of trial, large numbers of those in the army and navy who have
been favored with the offices have resigned and proved false to the
hand which had pampered them, not one common soldier or common
sailor is known to have deserted his flag. Great honor is due to
those officers who remained true, despite the example of their
treacherous associates; but the greatest honor, and most important
fact of all, is the unanimous firmness of the common soldiers and
common sailors. To the last man, so far as known, they have
successfully resisted the traitorous efforts of those whose
commands but an hour before they obeyed as absolute law. This is
the patriotic instinct of plain people. They understand, without an
argument, that destroying the Government which was made by
Washington means no good to them. Our popular Government has often
been called an experiment. Two points in it our people have already
settled--the successful establishing and the successful
administering of it. One still remains--its successful maintenance
against a formidable internal attempt to overthrow it. It is now
for them to demonstrate to the world that those who can fairly
carry an election can also suppress a rebellion; that ballots are
the rightful and peaceful successors of bullets; and that when
ballots have fairly and constitutionally decided, there can be no
successful appeal back to bullets; that there can be no successful
appeal, except to ballots themselves, at succeeding elections. Such
will be a great lesson of peace: teaching men that what they cannot
take by an election, neither can they take by a war; teaching all
the folly of being the beginners of a war.
Through the early summer of 1861 Washington was alive with preparations
for a military movement against the enemy in Virginia. Troops from the
North were constantly arriving, and as rapidly as possible were assigned
to different organizations and drilled in the art of war. "Few
comparatively know or can appreciate the actual condition of things and
the state of feeling of the members of the Administration in those
days," says Secretary Welles. "Nearly sixty years of peace had unfitted
us for any war; but the most terrible of all wars, a civil war, was upon
us, and it had to be met. Congress had adjourned without making any
provision for the storm, though aware it was at hand and soon to burst
upon the country. A new Administration, its members scarcely acquainted
with each other, and differing essentially in the past, was compelled to
act, promptly and decisively." The burden upon the President began to
grow tremendous; but he did not shrink or falter.
Upon his back a more than Atlas-load,
The burden of the Commonwealth, was laid;
He stooped, and rose up to it, though the road
Shot suddenly downwards, not a whit dismayed.
He labored incessantly in urging forward the preparations for the great
struggle which, however he might regret it, he now saw was inevitable.
He was in daily conference with the officers of the army and of the War
Department, and was present at innumerable reviews and parades of the
soldiers. The 4th of July was memorable for a grand review of all the
New York troops in and about the city. It was a brilliant and impressive
scene. Says a spectator, Hon. A.G. Riddle: "As they swept
past--twenty-five thousand boys in blue--their muskets flashing, bands
playing, and banners waving, I stood near a distinguished group
surrounding the President, and noted his countenance as he turned to the
massive moving column. All about him were excited, confident, exultant.
He stood silent, pale, profoundly sad, as though his prophetic soul saw
what was to follow. He seemed to be gazing beyond the splendid pageant
before him, upon things hidden from other eyes. Was there presaged to
him a vision of that grander review of our victorious armies at the
close of the war, which he was not to see?"
A few days later, all the troops in Washington crossed the Long Bridge
and marched, gallant and exultant, straight toward the enemy in
Virginia. The advance of our army resulted, on the 21st of July, in the
shameful disaster at Bull Run. The North was filled with surprise and
dismay, and even the stoutest hearts were burdened with anxiety for the
future. Lincoln at first shared somewhat in the general depression, but
his elastic spirits quickly rallied from the shock. Three or four days
after the battle, some gentlemen who had been on the field called upon
him. He inquired very minutely regarding all the circumstances of the
affair, and after listening with the utmost attention, said, with a
touch of humor: "So it's your notion that we _whipped the rebels_, and
then _ran away from them_!" Not long after this, the President made a
personal visit to the army in Virginia. General Sherman, at that time
connected with the Army of the Potomac, says: "I was near the
river-bank, looking at a block-house which had been built for the
defense of the aqueduct, when I saw a carriage coming by the road that
crossed the Potomac river at Georgetown by a ferry. I thought I
recognized in the carriage the person of President Lincoln. I hurried
across a bend, so as to stand by the roadside as the carriage passed. I
was in uniform, with a sword on, and was recognized by Mr. Lincoln and
Mr. Seward, who rode side by side in an open hack. I inquired if they
were going to my camp, and Mr. Lincoln said: 'Yes; we heard that you had
got over the big scare, and we thought we would come over and see the
boys.' The roads had been much changed and were rough. I asked if I
might give directions to his coachman; he promptly invited me to jump
in, and to tell the coachman which way to drive. Intending to begin on
the right and follow round to the left, I turned the driver into a
side-road which led up a very steep hill, and, seeing a soldier, called
to him and sent him up hurriedly to announce to the Colonel whose camp
we were approaching that the President was coming. As we slowly ascended
the hill, I discovered that Mr. Lincoln was full of feeling, and wanted
to encourage our men. I asked if he intended to speak to them, and he
said he would like to. I asked him then to please discourage all
cheering, noise, or any sort of confusion; that we had had enough of it
before Bull Run to ruin any set of men, and that what we needed were
cool, thoughtful, hard-fighting soldiers--no more hurrahing, no more
humbug. He took my remarks in the most perfect good-nature. Before we
had reached the first camp, I heard the drum beating the 'assembly,' saw
the men running for their tents, and in a few minutes the regiment was
in line, arms presented, and then brought to an 'order' and 'parade
rest.' Mr. Lincoln stood up in the carriage, and made one of the
neatest, best, and most feeling addresses I ever listened to, referring
to our late disaster at Bull Run, the high duties that still devolved on
us, and the brighter days yet to come. At one or two points the soldiers
began to cheer, but he promptly checked them, saying: 'Don't cheer,
boys. I confess I rather like it myself, but Colonel Sherman here says
that it is not military; and I guess we had better defer to his
opinion.' In winding up, he explained that, as President, he was
commander-in-chief; that he was resolved that the soldiers should have
everything that the law allowed; and he called on one and all to appeal
to him personally in case they were wronged. The effect of this speech
was excellent. We passed along in the same manner to all the camps of my
brigade; and Mr. Lincoln complimented me highly for the order,
cleanliness, and discipline that he observed. Indeed, he and Mr. Seward
both assured me that it was the first bright moment that they had
experienced since the battle."
"In the crowd at Fort Corcoran," continues General Sherman, "I saw an
officer with whom I had had a little difficulty that morning. His face
was pale and his lips were compressed. I foresaw a scene, but sat on the
front seat of the carriage as quiet as a lamb. This officer forced his
way through the crowd to the carriage, and said: 'Mr. President, I have
a cause of grievance. This morning I went to speak to Colonel Sherman,
and he threatened to shoot me.' Mr. Lincoln, who was still standing,
said, 'Threatened to _shoot you_?' 'Yes, sir, he threatened to shoot
me.' Mr. Lincoln looked at him, then at me; and stooping his tall, spare
form toward the officer, said to him in a loud stage-whisper, easily
heard for some yards around: 'Well, if I were you, and he threatened to
shoot, _I would not trust him_, for _I believe he would do it_.' The
officer turned about and disappeared, and the men laughed at him. Soon
the carriage drove on, and as we descended the hill I explained the
facts to the President, who answered, 'Of course I didn't know anything
about it, but I thought you knew your own business best.' I thanked him
for his confidence, and assured him that what he had done would go far
to enable me to maintain good discipline; and it did."
The days following the Bull Run disaster were full of depression and
discouragement, but Lincoln bore up bravely. He began to feel the
terrible realities of his position, and saw himself brought face to face
with the most awful responsibilities that ever rested upon human
shoulders. A disrupted Union, the downfall of the great American
Republic, so long predicted by envious critics of our institutions,
seemed about to be accomplished. At the best, the Union could be saved
only by the shedding of seas of priceless blood and the expenditure of
untold treasures. And _he_ must act, control, choose, and direct the
measures of the Government and the movements of its vast armies. And
what if all should fail? What if the resources of the Government should
prove inadequate, and its enemies too powerful to be subdued by force?
No wonder he was appalled and well-nigh overwhelmed by the dark prospect
before him.
Rev. Robert Collyer tells of seeing Lincoln in the summer of 1861, on
the steps of the White House, "answering very simply and kindly to the
marks of respect some soldiers had come to pay him, who stood in deep
ranks on the grass, that had been top-dressed with compost enough to
cover the whole District of Columbia, as the chairman of the committee
that had to pass the account told me. And once, curiously, I saw _only
his feet_. It was soon after the battle of Bull Run, when some say that
_we_ ran, and some say that _they_ ran. And all was quiet on the
Potomac; but the nation was stamping and champing the bit. And passing
the White House one day, I saw three pairs of feet on the sill of an
open window; and pausing for a moment, a good-natured fellow said,
'_That's the Cabinet a sittin_', and _them big feet's old Abe's.'_ So,
lecturing in Boston not long after, I said, like a fool as I was,
'That's about all they are good for in Washington, to point their feet
out o' window and talk, but go nowhere and do nothing.' When, indeed,
the good President's heart was even then breaking with anxiety and
trouble."
"One day," says Mr. A.G. Riddle, "I called at the White House to present
a distinguished stranger, who had important matters to bring to Mr.
Lincoln's notice. It was evening--cold, rainy, and cheerless. The
Executive Mansion was gloomy and silent. At Mr. Lincoln's door we were
told by the attendant to enter. We found the room quite dark, and
seemingly vacant. I advanced a step or two, to determine if anyone were
present, and was arrested by a strange apparition, at first not
distinguishable: the long, seemingly lifeless, limbs of a man, as if
thrown upon a chair and left to sprawl in unseemly disorder. A step
further, and the fallen head disclosed the features of the President. I
turned back; a word from my companion reached the drooping figure, and a
sepulchral voice bade us advance. We came upon a man, in some respects
the most remarkable of any time, in the hour of his prostration and
weakness--in the depths of that depression to which his inherited
melancholy at times reduced him, now perhaps coming to overwhelm him as
he thought of the calamities of his country."
An old and intimate friend from Springfield, who visited Lincoln at this
period, found the door of his office in the White House locked; but
going through a private room and a side entrance, he found the President
lying on a sofa, evidently greatly disturbed and much excited,
manifestly displeased with the outlook. Jumping up from his reclining
position, he advanced, saying: "You know better than any man living that
from my boyhood up my ambition was to be President. I am President of
one part of this divided country at least; but look at me! I wish I had
never been born! I've a white elephant on my hands, one hard to manage.
With a fire in my front and rear, having to contend with the jealousies
of the military commanders, and not receiving that cordial co-operation
and support from Congress that could reasonably be expected, with an
active and formidable enemy in the field threatening the very life-blood
of the Government, my position is anything but a bed of roses."
But in the darkest hours of the nation's peril, Lincoln never wavered in
his purpose. Anxious and careworn, his heart bleeding with grief for the
losses of our brave soldiers, and harassed by the grave duties
constantly demanding his attention, he had but one purpose,--to go on
unfalteringly and unhesitatingly in his course until the supremacy of
the Government was restored in every portion of its territory. He wrote
in a private letter: "I expect to maintain this contest until
successful, or till I die, or am conquered, or my term expires, or
Congress or the country forsake me."
Besides his invincible will and courage, Lincoln had one important
resource in his dark hours, an ever-ready relief for his overcharged
emotions. Byron said that he sometimes laughed in order that he might
not weep. Lincoln's life-long solace was his love of story-telling. Hon.
Hugh McCulloch, afterward Secretary of the Treasury, relates that about
a week after the battle of Bull Run he called at the White House, in
company with a few friends, and was amazed when, referring to something
which had been said by one of the company about the battle that was so
disastrous to the Union forces, the President remarked, in his usual
quiet manner, "That reminds me of a story," which he told in a manner so
humorous as almost to lead his listeners to believe that he was free
from care and apprehension. Mr. McCulloch could not then understand how
the President could feel like telling a story, when Washington was in
danger of being captured and the whole North was dismayed. He learned
his mistake afterwards, however, and perceived that his estimate of
Lincoln before his election was well grounded, and that he possessed
even higher qualities than he had been given credit for; that he was "a
man of sound judgment, great singleness and tenacity of purpose, and
extraordinary sagacity; that story-telling was to him a safety-valve,
and that he indulged in it, not only for the pleasure it afforded him,
but for a temporary relief from oppressing cares." It is related that on
the morning after the battle at Fredericksburg, Hon. I.N. Arnold, then a
member of Congress from Illinois, called on the President, and to his
amazement found him engaged in reading "Artemus Ward." Making no
reference to that which occupied the universal thought, he asked Mr.
Arnold to sit down while he read to him Artemus' description of his
visit to the Shakers. Shocked at this proposition, Mr. Arnold said: "Mr.
President, is it possible that with the whole land bowed in sorrow and
covered with a pall in the presence of yesterday's fearful reverse, you
can indulge in such levity?" Throwing down the book, with the tears
streaming down his cheeks and his huge frame quivering with emotion,
Lincoln answered: "Mr. Arnold, if I could not get momentary respite from
the crushing burden I am constantly carrying, my heart would break!"
Ralph Waldo Emerson said: "His broad good humor, running easily into
jocular talk, in which he delighted, and in which he excelled, was a
rich gift to this wise man. It enabled him to keep his secret, to meet
every kind of man, and every rank in society; to take off the edge of
the severest decisions, to mask his own purpose and sound his companion,
and to catch, with true instinct, the temper of every company he
addressed. And, more than all, it is to a man of severe labor, in
anxious and exhausting crises, the natural restorative, good as sleep,
and is the protection of the overdriven brain against rancor and
insanity."
Even amidst the stern realities of war, Lincoln was keenly appreciative
of anything that disclosed the comic or grotesque side of men or
happenings,--largely, doubtless, for the relief afforded him. At the
beginning of Lee's invasion of Pennsylvania, in June, 1863, when the
Union forces under Colonel Milroy were driven out of Harper's Ferry by
the Confederates, great consternation and alarm were caused by reports
that the Army of the Potomac had been routed and was retreating before
Lee, who was pressing forward toward Harrisburg, the capital of
Pennsylvania. Mr. Welles records in his Diary (June 17, 1863) that he
was at the War Department with the President and Secretary Stanton, when
"a messenger came in from General Schenck, declaring that the
stragglers and baggage-trains of Milroy had run away in affright, and
squads of them on different parallel roads had alarmed each other, and
each fled in terror with all speed to Harrisburg. This alone was
asserted to be the basis of the great panic which had alarmed
Pennsylvania and the country. The President," continues Mr. Welles, "was
in excellent humor. He said this flight would be a capital joke for
Orpheus C. Kerr[D] to get hold of. He could give scope to his
imagination over the terror of broken squads of panic-stricken
teamsters, frightened at each other and alarming all Pennsylvania.
General Meigs, who was present, inquired with great simplicity who this
person (Orpheus C. Kerr) was. 'Why,' said the President, 'have you not
read those papers? They are in two volumes; anyone who has not read them
is a heathen.' He said he had enjoyed them greatly--except when they
attempted to play their wit on him, which did not strike him as very
successful, but rather disgusted him. 'Now, the hits that are given to
you, Mr. Welles, or to Chase,' he said, 'I can enjoy; but I daresay they
may have disgusted you while I was laughing at them. So _vice versa_ as
regards myself.'"
Hon. Lawrence Weldon relates that on one occasion he called upon the
President to inquire as to the probable outcome of a conflict between
the civil and military authorities for the possession of a quantity of
cotton in a certain insurrectionary district. As soon as the inquiry had
been made, Lincoln's face began lighting up, and he said: "What has
become of our old friend Bob Lewis, of DeWitt County? Do you remember a
story that Bob used to tell us about his going to Missouri to look up
some Mormon lands that belonged to his father? You know that when
Robert became of age he found among the papers of his father a number of
warrants and patents for lands in Northeast Missouri, and he concluded
the best thing he could do was to go to Missouri and investigate the
condition of things. It being before the days of railroads, he started
on horseback, with a pair of old-fashioned saddlebags. When he arrived
where he supposed his land was situated, he stopped, hitched his horse,
and went into a cabin standing close by the roadside. He found the
proprietor, a lean, lank, leathery looking man, engaged in the pioneer
business of making bullets preparatory to a hunt. On entering, Mr. Lewis
observed a rifle suspended in a couple of buck-horns above the fire. He
said to the man, 'I am looking up some lands that I think belong to my
father,' and inquired of the man in what section he lived. Without
having ascertained the section, Mr. Lewis proceeded to exhibit his title
papers in evidence, and, having established a good title, as he thought,
said to the man, 'Now, that is my title. What is yours?' The pioneer,
who had by this time become somewhat interested in the proceedings,
pointed his long finger toward the rifle. Said he, 'Young man, do you
see that gun?' Mr. Lewis frankly admitted that he did. 'Well,' said he,
'that is my title, and if you don't get out of here pretty d----d quick
you will feel the force of it.' Mr. Lewis very hurriedly put his title
papers in his saddlebags, mounted his pony and galloped down the road,
and, as Bob says, the old pioneer snapped his gun twice at him before he
could turn the corner. Lewis said that he had never been back to disturb
that man's title since. 'Now,' said Mr. Lincoln, 'the military
authorities have the same title against the civil authorities that
closed out Bob's Mormon title in Missouri.'" Judge Weldon says that
after this anecdote he understood what would be the policy of the
Government in the matter referred to as well as though a proclamation
had been issued.
The tedium of meetings of the Cabinet was often relieved, and
troublesome matters before it were illuminated, by some apt and pithy
story. Secretary Welles tells of such an occasion when "Seward was
embarrassed about the Dominican [_sic_] question. To move either way
threatened difficulty. On one side was Spain, on the other side the
negro. The President remarked that the dilemma reminded him of the
interview between two negroes, one of whom was a preacher endeavoring to
admonish and enlighten the other. 'There are,' said Josh the preacher,
'two roads for you, Joe. Be careful which you take. One ob dem leads
straight to hell, de odder go right to damnation.' Joe opened his eyes
under the impressive eloquence and visions of an awful future, and
exclaimed, 'Josh, take which road you please; I go troo de wood.' 'I am
not disposed to take any new trouble,' said the President, 'just at this
time, and shall neither go for Spain nor the negro in this matter, but
shall take to the woods.'"
It is related that Charles Sumner, who was a very tall man, and proud of
his height, once worried the President about some perplexing matter,
when Lincoln sought to change the subject by abruptly challenging his
visitor to measure backs. "Sumner," said Mr. Lincoln, "declined to stand
up with me, back to back, to see which was the tallest man, and made a
fine speech about this being the time for uniting our fronts against the
enemy, and not our backs. But I guess he was afraid to measure, though
he is a good piece of a man. I have never had much to do with Bishops
where I live, but, do you know, Sumner is _my idea of a Bishop_."
A good story of President Lincoln and General Scott is reported by
Major-General Keyes, who at the beginning of the war was on the staff of
General Scott, then commander-in-chief of the armies of the United
States. "I was sent," says General Keyes, "by my chief to the President
with a message that referred to a military subject, and that led to a
discussion. Finding that Mr. Lincoln's observations were beginning to
tangle my arguments, I said, 'That is the opinion of General Scott, and
you know, Mr. President, he is a very able military man.' 'Well,' said
the President, 'if he is as _able_ a military man as he is _unable_ as a
politician, I give up.' This was said with an expression of the eye,
which he turned on me, that was peculiar to him, and which signified a
great deal. The astounding force of Mr. Lincoln's observation was not at
all diminished by the fact that I had long suspected that my chief
lacked something which is necessary to make a successful politician."
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.
Lincoln said the object 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 seemed to afford any
relief. At last a man came along--"a common-sense sort of man," said he,
inclining his head towards his callers pleasantly,--"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 question. 'Make a
plaster of _psalm-tunes_, and apply to her feet, and draw the singing
_down_,' was the rejoinder." Still better was his reply to another
delegation of New York millionaires who waited upon him in 1862, after
the appearance of the rebel ram "Merrimac," and represented to him that
they were very uneasy about the unprotected situation of their city,
which was exposed to attack and bombardment by rebel rams; and they
requested him to detail a gun-boat to defend the city. The gentlemen
were fifty in number, very dignified and respectable in appearance, and
stated that they represented in their own right $100,000,000. Lincoln
did not wish to offend these gentlemen, and yet he intended to give them
a little lesson. He listened with great attention, and seemed to be much
impressed by their presence and their statements. Then he replied, very
deliberately: "Gentlemen, I am by the Constitution commander-in-chief of
the army and navy of the United States; and, as a matter of law, can
order anything done that is practicable to be done. But, as a matter of
fact, I am not in command of the gun-boats or ships of war; as a matter
of fact, I do not know exactly where they are, but presume they are
actively engaged. It is impossible for me, in the present condition of
things, to furnish you a gun-boat. The credit of the Government is at a
very low ebb; greenbacks are not worth more than forty or fifty cents on
the dollar; and in this condition of things, if I was worth half as much
as you, gentlemen, are represented to be, and as badly scared as you
seem to be, I _would build a gun-boat and give it to the Government._" A
gentleman who accompanied the delegation says he never saw one hundred
millions sink to such insignificant proportions, as the committee
recrossed the threshold of the White House, sadder but wiser men.
"Mr. Lincoln had his joke and his 'little story' over the disruption of
the Democracy. He once knew, he said, a sound churchman, of the name of
Brown, who was the member of a very sober and pious committee, having
in charge the erection of a bridge over a dangerous and rapid river.
Several architects had failed, and at last Brown said he had a friend
named Jones who had built several bridges, and could undoubtedly 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 h--l, 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
... the infernal regions, why, I believe it; but I feel bound to say
that I have my doubts about the abutment on the other 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._'"
A delegation once called on Lincoln to ask the appointment of a
gentleman as commissioner to the Sandwich Islands. They presented their
case as earnestly as possible, and, besides his fitness for the place,
they urged that he was in bad health and a residence in that balmy
climate would be of great benefit to him. The President closed the
interview with the good-humored remark: "Gentlemen, I am sorry to say
that there are eight other applicants for that place, and they are _all
sicker than your man._"