RENOMINATION
In a period of fervid political feeling it was natural that those
Republicans who were dissatisfied with President Lincoln should begin,
long before the close of his term of office, to seek consolation by
arrangements for replacing him by a successor more to their taste.
Expressions of this purpose became definite in the autumn of 1863. Mr.
Arnold says that the coming presidential election was expected to bring
grave danger, if not even anarchy and revolution.[64] Amid existing
circumstances, an opposition confined to the legitimate antagonism of
the Democracy would, of course, have brought something more than the
customary strain inherent in ordinary times in government by party; and
it was unfortunate that, besides this, an undue gravity was imported
into the crisis by the intestinal dissensions of the Republicans
themselves. It seemed by no means impossible that these disagreements
might give to the friends of peace by compromise a victory which they
really ought not to have. Republican hostility to Mr. Lincoln was
unquestionably very bitter in quality, whatever it might be in quantity.
It was based in part upon the discontent of the radicals and extremists,
in part upon personal irritation. In looking back upon those times there
is now a natural tendency to measure this opposition by the weakness
which it ultimately displayed when, later on, it was swept out of sight
by the overwhelming current of the popular will. But this weakness was
by no means so visible in the winter of 1863-64. On the contrary, the
cry for a change then seemed to come from every quarter, and to come
loudly; for it was echoed back and forth by the propagandists and
politicians, and as these persons naturally did most of the talking and
writing in the country, so they made a show delusively out of proportion
to their following among the people.
The dislike toward the President flourished chiefly in two places, and
with two distinct bodies of men. One of these places was Missouri, which
will be spoken of later on. The other was Washington, where the class of
"public men" was for the most part very ill-disposed towards him.[65]
Mr. Julian, himself a prominent malcontent, bears his valuable testimony
to the extent of the disaffection, saying that, of the "more earnest and
thorough-going Republicans in both Houses of Congress, probably not one
in ten really favored"[66] the renomination of Mr. Lincoln. In fact,
there were few of them whom the President had not offended. They had
brought to him their schemes and their policies, had made their
arguments and demands, and after all had found the President keeping his
counsel to himself and acting according to his own judgment. This seemed
exasperatingly unjustifiable in a country where anybody might happen to
be president without being a whit abler than any other one who had not
happened to fall into the office. In a word, the politicians had, and
hated, a master. Mr. Chase betrayed this when he complained that there
was no "administration, in the true sense of the word;" by which he
understood, "a president conferring with his cabinet and _taking their
united judgments_." The existence of that strange moat which seems to
isolate the capital and the political coteries therein gathered, and to
shut out all knowledge of the feelings of the constituent people, is
notorious, and certainly was never made more conspicuous than in this
business of selecting the Republican candidate for the campaign of 1864.
When Congress came together the political scheming received a strong
impetus. Everybody seemed to be opposed to Mr. Lincoln. Thaddeus
Stevens, the impetuous leader of the House of Representatives, declared
that, in that body, Arnold of Illinois was the only member who was a
political friend of the President; and the story goes that the President
himself sadly admitted the fact. Visitors at Washington, who got their
impressions from the talk there, concluded that Mr. Lincoln's chance of
a second term was small.
This opposition, which had the capital for its headquarters and the
politicians for its constituents, found a candidate ready for use.
Secretary Chase was a victim to the dread disease of presidential
ambition. With the usual conventional expressions of modesty he admitted
the fact. Thereupon general talk soon developed into political
organization; and in January, 1864, a "Committee of prominent Senators,
Representatives, and Citizens," having formally obtained his approval,
set about promoting his interests in business-like fashion.
The President soon knew what was going forward; but he gave no sign of
disquietude; on the contrary, he only remarked that he hoped the country
would never have a worse president than Mr. Chase would be. Not that he
was indifferent to renomination and reëlection. That would have been
against nature. His mind, his soul, all that there was of force and
feeling in him had been expended to the uttermost in the cause and the
war which were still pending. At the end of that desperate road, along
which he had dared stubbornly and against so much advice to lead the
nation, he seemed now to discern the goal. That he should be permitted
to guide to the end in that journey, and that his judgment and
leadership should receive the crown of success and approval, was a
reward, almost a right, which he must intensely desire and which he
could not lose without a disappointment that outruns expression. Yet he
was so self-contained that, if he had cared not at all about the issue,
his conduct would have been much the same that it was.
[Illustration: Isaac N. Arnold]
Besides his temperament, other causes promoted this tranquillity. What
Mr. Lincoln would have been had his career fallen in ordinary times,
amid commonplace political business, it is difficult to say. The world
never saw him as the advocate or assailant of a tariff, or other such
affair. From the beginning he had bound himself fast to a great moral
purpose, which later became united with the preservation of the national
life. Having thus deliberately exercised his judgment in a question of
this kind, he seemed ever after content to have intrusted his fortunes
to the movement, and always to be free from any misgiving as to its
happy conclusion. Besides this, it is probable that he accurately
measured the narrow limits of Mr. Chase's strength. No man ever more
shrewdly read the popular mind. A subtle line of communication seemed to
run between himself and the people. Nor did he know less well the
politicians. His less sagacious friends noted with surprise and anxiety
that he let the work of opposition go on unchecked. In due time,
however, the accuracy of his foresight was vindicated; for when the
secretary's friends achieved a sufficient impetus they tumbled over, in
manner following:--
Mr. Pomeroy, senator from Kansas, was vindictive because the President
had refused to take his side in certain quarrels between himself and his
colleague. Accordingly, early in 1864, he issued a circular, stating
that the efforts making for Mr. Lincoln's nomination required counter
action on the part of those unconditional friends of the Union who
disapproved the policy of the administration. He said that Mr. Lincoln's
reëlection was "practically impossible;" that it was also undesirable,
on account of the President's "manifest tendency towards compromises and
temporary expedients of policy," and for other reasons. Therefore, he
said, Mr. Chase's friends had established "connections in all the
States," and now invited "the hearty coöperation of all those in favor
of the speedy restoration of the Union upon the basis of universal
freedom." The document, designed to be secret, of course was quickly
printed in the newspapers.[67] This was awkward; and Mr. Chase at once
wrote to the President a letter, certainly entirely fair, in which he
expressed his willingness to resign. Mr. Lincoln replied kindly. He said
that he had heard of the Pomeroy circular, but had not read it, and did
not expect to do so. In fact, he said, "I have known just as little of
these things as my friends have allowed me to know." As to the proposed
resignation, that, he said, "is a question which I will not allow myself
to consider from any standpoint other than my judgment of the public
service, and in that view I do not perceive occasion for a change."
There was throughout a quiet undertone of indifference to the whole
business, which was significant enough to have puzzled the secretary,
had he noticed it; for it was absolutely impossible that Mr. Lincoln
should be really indifferent to dangerous competition. The truth was
that the facts of the situation lay with the President, and that the
enterprise, which was supposed by its friends to be only in its early
stage, was really on the verge of final disposition. Mr. Chase had said
decisively that he would not be a candidate unless his own State, Ohio,
should prefer him. To enlighten him on this point the Republican members
of the Ohio legislature, being in much closer touch with the people than
were the more dignified statesmen at Washington, met on February 25, and
in the name of the people and the soldiers of their State renominated
Mr. Lincoln. The nail was driven a stroke deeper into the coffin by
Rhode Island. Although Governor Sprague was Mr. Chase's son-in-law, the
legislature of that State also made haste to declare for Mr. Lincoln. So
the movement in behalf of Mr. Chase came suddenly and utterly to an end.
Early in May he wrote that he wished no further consideration to be
given to his name; and his wish was respected. After this collapse Mr.
Lincoln's renomination was much less opposed by the politicians of
Washington. Being naturally a facile class, and not so narrowly wedded
to their own convictions as to be unable to subordinate them to the
popular will or wisdom, they now for the most part gave their
superficial and uncordial adhesion to the President. They liked him no
better than before, but they respected a sagacity superior to their own,
bowed before a capacity which could control success, and, in presence of
the admitted fact of his overwhelming popularity, they played the part
which became wise men of their calling.
However sincerely Mr. Chase might resolve to behave with magnanimity
beneath his disappointment, the disappointment must rankle all the same.
It was certainly the case that, while he professed friendship towards
Mr. Lincoln personally, he was honestly unable to appreciate him as a
president. Mr. Chase's ideal of a statesman had outlines of imposing
dignity which Mr. Lincoln's simple demeanor did not fill out. It was now
inevitable that the relationship between the two men should soon be
severed. The first strain came because Mr. Lincoln would not avenge an
unjustifiable assault made by General Blair upon the secretary. Then Mr.
Chase grumbled at the free spending of the funds which he had succeeded
in providing with so much skill and labor. "It seems as if there were no
limit to expense.... The spigot in Uncle Abe's barrel is made twice as
big as the bung-hole," he complained. Then ensued sundry irritations
concerning appointments in the custom-houses, one of which led to an
offer of resignation by the secretary. On each occasion, however, the
President placated him by allowing him to have his own way. Finally, in
May and June, 1864, occurred the famous imbroglio concerning the choice
of a successor to Mr. Cisco, the assistant treasurer at New York. Though
Mr. Chase again managed to prevail, yet he was made so angry by the
circumstances of the case, that he again sent in his resignation, which
this time was accepted. For, as Mr. Lincoln said: "You and I have
reached a point of mutual embarrassment in our official relation, which
it seems cannot be overcome or longer sustained consistently with the
public service." This occurrence, taking place on June 29-30, at the
beginning of the difficult political campaign of that anxious summer,
alienated from the President's cause some friends in a crisis when all
the friends whom he could muster seemed hardly sufficient.
The place of Mr. Chase was not easy to fill. Mr. Lincoln first nominated
David Tod of Ohio. This was very ill received; but fortunately the
difficulty which might have been caused by it was escaped, because
Governor Tod promptly declined. The President then named William Pitt
Fessenden, senator from Maine, and actually forced the office upon him
against that gentleman's sincere wish to escape the honor. A better
choice could not have been made. Mr. Fessenden was chairman of the
Committee on Finance, and had filled the position with conspicuous
ability; every one esteemed him highly; the Senate instantly confirmed
him, and during his incumbency in office he fully justified these
flattering opinions.
There were other opponents of the President who were not so easily
diverted from their purpose as the politicians had been. In Missouri an
old feud was based upon his displacement of Fremont; the State had ever
since been rent by fierce factional quarrels, and amid them this
grievance had never been forgotten or forgiven. Emancipation by state
action had been chief among the causes which had divided the Union
citizens into Conservatives and Radicals. Their quarrel was bitter, and
in vain did Mr. Lincoln repeatedly endeavor to reconcile them. The
Radicals claimed his countenance as a matter of right, and Mr. Lincoln
often privately admitted that between him and them there was close
coincidence of feeling. Yet he found their specific demands
inadmissible; especially he could not consent to please them by removing
General Schofield. So they, being extremists, and therefore of the type
of men who will have every one against them who is not for them, turned
vindictively against him. They found sympathizers elsewhere in the
country, sporadic instances of disaffection rather than indications of
an epidemic; but in their frame of mind they easily gained faith in the
existence of a popular feeling which was, in fact, the phantasm of
their own heated fancy. As spring drew on they cast out lines of
affiliation. Their purpose was not only negatively against Lincoln, but
positively for Fremont. Therefore they made connection with the Central
Fremont Club, a small organization in New York, and issued a call for a
mass convention at Cleveland on May 31. They expressed their disgust for
the "imbecile and vacillating policy" of Mr. Lincoln, and desired the
"immediate extinction of slavery ... by congressional action,"
contemning the fact that Congress had no power under the Constitution to
extinguish slavery. Their call was reinforced by two or three others, of
which one came from a "People's Committee" of St. Louis, representing
Germans under the lead of B. Gratz Brown.
The movement also had the hearty approval of Wendell Phillips, who was
very bitter and sweeping in his denunciations of an administration which
he regarded "as a civil and military failure." Lincoln's reëlection, he
said, "I shall consider the end of the Union in my day, or its
reconstruction on terms worse than disunion." But Mr. Phillips's
friendship ought to have been regarded by the Fremonters as ominous, for
it was his custom always to act with a very small minority. Moreover he
had long since ceased to give voice to the intelligence of his party or
even fairly to represent it. How far it had ever been proper to call the
Abolitionists a party may be doubted; before the war they had been
compressed into some solidity by encompassing hostility; but they would
not have been Abolitionists at all had they not been men of exceptional
independence both in temper and in intellect. They had often dared to
differ from each other as well as from the mass of their fellow
citizens, and they had never submitted to the domination of leaders in
the ordinary political fashion. The career of Mr. Lincoln had of course
been watched by them keenly, very critically, and with intense and
various feeling. At times they had hopefully applauded him, and at times
they had vehemently condemned what had seemed to them his halting,
half-hearted, or timid action. As the individual members of the party
had often changed their own minds about him, so also they had sometimes
and freely disagreed with each other concerning his character, his
intentions, his policies. In the winter and spring of 1864, however, it
seemed that, by slow degrees, observation, their own good sense, and the
development of events had at last won the great majority of the party to
repose a considerable measure of confidence in him, both in respect of
his capacity and of his real anti-slavery purposes. Accordingly in the
present discussions such men as Owen Lovejoy,[68] William Lloyd
Garrison, and Oliver Johnson came out fairly for him,--not, indeed,
because he was altogether satisfactory to them, but because he was in
great part so; also because they easily saw that as matter of fact his
personal triumph would probably lead to abolition, that he was the only
candidate by whom the Democracy could be beaten, and that if the
Democracy should not be beaten, abolition would be postponed beyond
human vision. Lovejoy said that, to his personal knowledge, the
President had "been just as radical as any of his cabinet," and in view
of what the Abolitionists thought of Chase, this was a strong
indorsement. The old-time charge of being impractical could not properly
be renewed against these men, now that they saw that events which they
could help to bring about were likely to bring their purpose to the
point of real achievement in a near future. In this condition of things
they were found entirely willing to recognize and accept the best
practical means, and their belief was clear that the best practical
means lay in the renomination and reëlection of Abraham Lincoln. Their
adhesion brought to him a very useful assistance, and beyond this it
also gave him the gratification of knowing that he had at last won the
approval of men whose friendly sympathy he had always inwardly desired.
Sustained by the best men in the party, he could afford to disregard the
small body of irreconcilable and quarrelsome fault-finders, who went
over to Fremont, factious men, who were perhaps unconsciously controlled
more by mere contradictoriness of temperament than by the higher motives
which they proclaimed.
At Cleveland on the appointed day the "mass convention" assembled, only
the mass was wanting. It nominated Fremont for the presidency and
General John Cochrane for the vice-presidency; and thus again the
Constitution was ignored by these malcontents; for both these gentlemen
were citizens of New York, and therefore the important delegation from
that State could lawfully vote for only one of them. Really the best
result which the convention achieved was that it called forth a bit of
wit from the President. Some one remarked to him that, instead of the
expected thousands, only about four hundred persons had assembled. He
turned to the Bible which, say Nicolay and Hay, "commonly lay on his
desk,"[69] and read the verse: "And every one that was in distress, and
every one that was in debt, and every one that was discontented,
gathered themselves unto him; and he became a captain over them: and
there were with him about four hundred men."[70]
The Fremonters struck no responsive chord among the people. The
nomination was received by every one with the same tranquil
indifference, tinged with ridicule, which the President had shown. In
vain did Fremont seek to give to his candidacy a serious and dignified
character. Very few persons cared anything about it, except the
Democrats, and their clamorous approval was as unwelcome as it was
significant. Under this humiliation the unfortunate candidate at last
decided to withdraw, and so notified his committee about the middle of
September. He still stood by his principles, however, and asserted that
Mr. Lincoln's administration had been "politically, militarily, and
financially a failure;" that the President had paralyzed the generous
unanimity of the North; and that, by declaring that "slavery should be
protected," he had "built up for the South a strength which otherwise
they could have never attained." The nation received the statement
placidly and without alarm.
A feeble movement in New York to nominate General Grant deserves
mention, chiefly for the purpose of also mentioning the generous manner
in which the general decisively brushed it aside. Mr. Lincoln quietly
said that if Grant would take Richmond he might also have the
presidency. But it was, of course, plain to every one that for the
present it would be ridiculous folly to take Grant out of his tent in
order to put him into the White House.
During this same troubled period a few of the Republican malcontents
went so far as to fancy that they could put upon Mr. Lincoln a pressure
which would induce him to withdraw from the ticket. They never learned
the extreme absurdity of their design, for they never got enough
encouragement to induce them to push it beyond the stage of preliminary
discussion.
All these movements had some support from newspapers in different parts
of the country. Many editors had the like grievance against Mr. Lincoln
which so many politicians had. For they had told him what to do, and too
often he had not done it. Horace Greeley, it is needless to say, was
conspicuous in his unlimited condemnation of the President.
The first indications of the revolt of the politicians and the radicals
against Mr. Lincoln were signals for instant counteracting activity
among the various bodies which more closely felt the popular impulse.
State conventions, caucuses, of all sizes and kinds, and gatherings of
the Republican members of state legislatures, overstepped their regular
functions to declare for the renomination of Mr. Lincoln. Clubs and
societies did the same. Simon Cameron, transmitting to the President a
circular of this purport, signed by every Unionist member of the
Pennsylvania legislature, said: "Providence has decreed your
reëlection;" and if it is true that the _vox populi_ is also the _vox
Dei_, this statement of the political affiliations of Providence was
entirely correct. Undoubtedly the number of the President's adherents
was swelled by some persons who would have been among the disaffected
had they not been influenced by the reflection that a change of
administration in the present condition of things must be disastrous.
This feeling was expressed in many metaphors, but in none other so
famous as that uttered by Mr. Lincoln himself: that it was not wise to
swap horses while crossing the stream. The process was especially
dangerous in a country where the change would involve a practical
interregum of one third of a year. The nation had learned this lesson,
and had paid dearly enough for the schooling, too, in the four months of
its waiting to get rid of Buchanan, after it had discredited him and all
his ways. In the present crisis it was easy to believe that to leave Mr.
Lincoln to carry on for four months an administration condemned by the
people, would inflict a mortal injury to the Union cause. Nevertheless,
though many persons not wholly satisfied with him supported him for this
reason, the great majority undeniably felt implicit faith and intense
loyalty towards him. He was the people's candidate, and they would not
have any other candidate; this present state of popular feeling, which
soon became plain as the sun in heaven, settled the matter.
Thereupon, however, the malcontents, unwilling to accept defeat,
broached a new scheme. The Republican nominating convention had been
summoned to meet on June 7, 1864; the opponents of Mr. Lincoln now
sought to have it postponed until September. William Cullen Bryant
favored this. Mr. Greeley also artfully said that a nomination made so
early would expose the Union party to a dangerous and possibly a
successful flank movement. But deception was impossible; all knew that
the postponement itself was a flank movement, and that it was desired
for the chance of some advantage turning up for those who now had
absolutely nothing to lose.
Mr. Lincoln all the while preserved the same attitude which he had held
from the beginning. He had too much honesty and good sense to commit the
vulgar folly of pretending not to want what every one knew perfectly
well that he did want very much. Yet no fair enemy could charge him with
doing any objectionable act to advance his own interests. He declined to
give General Schurz leave of absence to make speeches in his behalf.
"Speaking in the North," he said, "and fighting in the South at the same
time are not possible; nor could I be justified to detail any officer to
the political campaign during its continuance, and then return him to
the army." When the renomination came to him, he took it with clean
hands and a clear conscience; and it did come surely and promptly. The
postponers were quenched by general disapproval; and promptly on the
appointed day, June 7, the Republican Convention met at Baltimore. As
Mr. Forney well said: the body had not to originate, but simply to
republish, a policy; not to choose a candidate, but only to adopt the
previous choice of the people. Very wisely the "Radical-union," or
anti-Lincoln, delegation from Missouri was admitted, as against the
contesting pro-Lincoln delegates. The delegations from Tennessee,
Arkansas and Louisiana were also admitted. The President had desired
this. Perhaps, as some people charged, he thought that it would be a
useful precedent for counting the votes of these States in the election
itself, should the Republican party have need to do so. The platform,
besides many other things, declared against compromise with the rebels;
advocated a constitutional amendment to abolish slavery; and praised the
President and his policy. The first ballot showed 484 for Lincoln, 22
for Grant. The Missouri radicals had cast the vote for Grant; they rose
and transferred it to Lincoln, and thus upon the first ballot he was
nominated unanimously.
There was some conflict over the second place. A numerous body felt, and
very properly, that Mr. Hamlin deserved the approval of renomination.
But others said that policy required the selection of a war Democrat.
The President's advice was eagerly and persistently sought. Messrs.
Nicolay and Hay allege that he not only ostensibly refused any response,
but that he would give no private hint; and they say that therefore it
was "with minds absolutely untrammeled by even any knowledge of the
President's wishes, that the convention went about its work of selecting
his associate on the ticket." Others assert, and, as it seems to me,
strongly sustain their assertion, that the President had a distinct and
strong purpose in favor of Andrew Johnson,--not on personal, but on
political grounds,--and that it was due to his skillful but occult
interference that the choice ultimately fell upon the energetic and
aggressive war Democrat of Tennessee.[71] The first ballot showed for
Mr. Johnson 200, for Mr. Hamlin 150, and for Daniel S. Dickinson, a war
Democrat of New York, 108. The nomination of Mr. Johnson was at once
made unanimous.
To the committee who waited upon Mr. Lincoln to notify him formally of
his nomination, he replied briefly. His only noteworthy remark was made
concerning that clause in the platform which proposed the constitutional
abolition of slavery; of which he said, that it was "a fitting and
necessary conclusion to the final success of the Union cause."
During the ensuing summer of 1864 the strain to which the nation was
subjected was excessive. The political campaign produced intense
excitement, and the military situation caused profound anxiety. The
Democrats worked as men work when they anticipate glorious triumph; and
even the Republicans conceded that the chance of their opponents was
alarmingly good. The frightful conflict which had devoured men and money
without stint was entering upon its fourth year, and the weary people
had not that vision which enabled the leaders from their watch-tower to
see the end. Wherefore the Democrats, stigmatizing the war policy as a
failure, and crying for peace and a settlement, held out an alluring
purpose, although they certainly failed to explain distinctly their plan
for achieving this consummation without sacrificing the Union.
Skillfully devoting the summer to assaults on the Republicans, they
awaited the guidance of the latest phase of the political situation
before making their own choice. Then, at the end of August, their
convention nominated General George B. McClellan. At the time it seemed
probable that the nomination was also the gift of the office. So
unpromising was the outlook for the Republicans during these summer
months that many leaders, and even the President himself, felt that
their only chance of winning in November lay in the occurrence before
that time of some military success great enough to convince the people
that it was not yet time to despair of the war.
It was especially hard for the Republicans to make head against their
natural enemies, because they were so severely handicapped by the bad
feeling and division among themselves. Mr. Wade, Henry Winter Davis,
Thaddeus Stevens, and a host more, could not do otherwise than accept
the party nominee; yet with what zeal could they work for the candidate
when they felt that they, the leaders of the party, had been something
worse than ignored in the selection of him? And what was their influence
worth, when all who could be reached by it knew well their extreme
hostility and distrust towards Mr. Lincoln? Stevens grudgingly admitted
that Lincoln would not be quite so bad a choice as McClellan, yet let no
chance go by to assail the opinions, measures, and policy of the
Republican President. In this he was imitated by others, and their
reluctant adhesion in the mere matter of voting the party ticket was
much more than offset by this vehemence in condemning the man in whose
behalf they felt it necessary to go to the polls. In a word the
situation was, that the common soldiers of the party were to go into the
fight under officers who did not expect, and scarcely desired, to win.
Victory is rare under such circumstances.
The opposition of the Democratic party was open and legitimate; the
unfriendliness of the Republican politicians was more unfortunate than
unfair, because it was the mistake of sincere and earnest men. But in
the way of Mr. Lincoln's success there stood still other opponents whose
antagonism was mischievous, insidious, and unfair both in principle and
in detail. Chief in this band appeared Horace Greeley, with a following
and an influence fluctuating and difficult to estimate, but
considerable. His present political creed was a strange jumble of
Democratic and Republican doctrines. No Democrat abused the
administration or cried for "peace on almost any terms" louder than he
did; yet he still declaimed against slavery, and proposed to buy from
the South all its slaves for four hundred millions of dollars.
Unfortunately those of his notions which were of importance in the
pending campaign were the Democratic ones. If he had come out openly as
a free lance, which was his true character, he would have less seriously
injured the President's cause. This, however, he would not do, but
preferred to fight against the Republicans in their own camp and
wearing their own uniform, and in this guise to devote all his capacity
to embarrassing the man who was the chosen president and the candidate
of that party. Multitudes in the country had been wont to accept the
editorials of the "Tribune" as sound political gospels, and the present
disaffected attitude of the variable man who inspired those vehement
writings was a national disaster. He created and led the party of peace
Republicans. Peace Democracy was a legitimate political doctrine; but
peace Republicanism was an illogical monstrosity. It lay, with the
mortal threat of a cancer, in the political body of the party. It was
especially unfortunate just at this juncture that clear thinking was not
among Mr. Greeley's gifts. In single-minded pursuit of his purpose to
destroy Mr. Lincoln by any possible means, he had at first encouraged
the movement for Fremont, though it was based on views directly contrary
to his own. But soon losing interest in that, he thereafter gave himself
wholly to the business of crying aloud for immediate peace, which he
continued to do throughout the presidential campaign, always
unreasonably, sometimes disingenuously, but without rest, and with
injurious effect. The vivid picture which he loved to draw of "our
bleeding, bankrupt, and almost dying country," longing for peace and
shuddering at the "prospect of new rivers of human blood," scared many
an honest and anxious patriot.
In July and August Mr. Greeley was misled into lending himself to the
schemes of some Southerners at Niagara Falls, who threw out intimations
that they were emissaries from the Confederacy and authorized to treat
for peace. He believed these men, and urged that negotiations should be
prosecuted with them. By the publicity which he gave to the matter he
caused much embarrassment to Mr. Lincoln, who saw at once that the whole
business was certainly absurd and probably treacherous. The real purpose
of these envoys, he afterwards said, was undoubtedly "to assist in
selecting and arranging a candidate and a platform for the Chicago
Convention." Yet clearly as he understood this false and hollow scheme,
he could not altogether ignore Greeley's demands for attention to it
without giving too much color to those statements which the editor was
assiduously scattering abroad, to the effect that the administration did
not desire peace, and would not take it when proffered. So there were
reasons why this sham offer must be treated as if it were an honest one,
vexatious as the necessity appeared to the President. Perhaps he was
cheered by the faith which he had in the wisdom of proverbs, for now,
very fortunately, he permitted himself to be guided by a familiar one;
and he decided to give to his annoyer liberal rope. Accordingly he
authorized Mr. Greeley himself to visit in person these emissaries, to
confer with them, and even to bring them to Washington in case they
should prove really to have from Jefferson Davis any written
proposition "for peace, embracing the restoration of the Union and
abandonment of slavery." It was an exceedingly shrewd move, and it
seriously discomposed Mr. Greeley, who had not counted upon being so
frankly met, and whose disquietude was amusingly evident as he
reluctantly fluttered forth to Niagara upon his mission of peace, less
wise than a serpent and unfortunately much less harmless than a dove.
There is no room here to follow all the intricacies of the ensuing
"negotiations." The result was an utter fiasco, fully justifying the
President's opinion of the fatuity of the whole business. The so-called
Southern envoys had no credentials at all; they appeared to be mere
adventurers, and members of that Southern colony in Canada which became
even more infamous by what it desired to do than mischievous by what it
actually did during the war. If they had any distinct purpose on this
occasion, it was to injure the Republican party by discrediting its
candidate in precisely the way in which Mr. Greeley was aiding them to
do these things. But he never got his head sufficiently clear to
appreciate this, and he faithfully continued to play the part for which
he had been cast by them, but without understanding it. He persistently
charged the responsibility for his bootless return and ignominious
situation upon Mr. Lincoln; and though his errand proved conclusively
that the South was making no advances,[72] and though no man in the
country was more strictly affected with personal knowledge of this fact
than he was, yet he continued to tell the people, with all the weight of
his personal authority, that the President was obstinately set against
any and all proffers of peace. Mr. Lincoln, betwixt mercy and policy,
refrained from crushing his antagonist by an ungarbled publication of
all the facts and documents; and in return for his forbearance he long
continued to receive from Mr. Greeley vehement assurances that every
direful disaster awaited the Republican party. The cause suffered much
from these relentless diatribes of the "Tribune's" influential manager,
for nothing else could make the administration so unpopular as the
belief that it was backward in any possible exertion to secure an
honorable peace.
If by sound logic the Greeley faction should have voted with the
Democrats,--since in the chief point in issue, the prosecution of the
war, they agreed with the Democracy,--so the war Democrats, being in
accord with the Republicans, upon this same overshadowing issue should,
at the coming election at least, have voted with that party. Many of
them undoubtedly did finally prefer Lincoln, coupled with Andrew
Johnson, to McClellan. But they also had anxieties, newly stirred, and
entirely reasonable in men of their political faith. It was plain to
them that Mr. Lincoln had been finding his way to the distinct position
that the abolition of slavery was an essential condition of peace. Now
this was undeniably a very serious and alterative graft upon the
original doctrine that the war was solely for the restoration of the
Union. The editor of a war-Democratic newspaper in Wisconsin sought
information upon this point. In the course of Mr. Greeley's negotiatory
business Mr. Lincoln had offered to welcome "any proposition which
embraces the restoration of peace, the integrity of the whole Union, and
the abandonment of slavery." Now this, said the interrogating editor,
implies "that no steps can be taken towards peace ... unless accompanied
with an abandonment of slavery. This puts the whole war question on a
new basis and takes us war Democrats clear off our feet, leaving us no
ground to stand upon. If we sustain the war and war policy, does it not
demand the changing of our party politics?" Nicolay and Hay print the
draft of a reply by Mr. Lincoln which, they say, was "apparently
unfinished and probably never sent." In this he referred to his past
utterances as being still valid. But he said that no Southerner had
"intimated a willingness for a restoration of the Union in any event or
on any condition whatever.... If Jefferson Davis wishes for himself, or
for the benefit of his friends at the North, to know what I would do if
he were to offer peace and reunion, saying nothing about slavery, let
him try me." It must be admitted that this was not an answer, but was a
clear waiver of an answer. The President could not or would not reply
categorically to the queries of the editor. Perhaps the impossibility of
doing so both satisfactorily and honestly may explain why the paper was
left unfinished and unsent. It was not an easy letter to write; its
composition must have puzzled one who was always clear both in thought
and in expression. Probably Mr. Lincoln no longer expected that the end
of the war would leave slavery in existence, nor intended that it should
do so; and doubtless he anticipated that the course of events would
involve the destruction of that now rotten and undermined institution,
without serious difficulty at the opportune moment. The speeches made at
the Republican nominating convention had been very outspoken, to the
effect that slavery must be made to "cease forever," as a result of the
war. Yet a blunt statement that abolition would be a _sine qua non_ in
any arrangements for peace, emanating directly from the President, as a
declaration of his policy, would be very costly in the pending campaign,
and would imperil rather than advance the fortunes of him who had this
consummation at heart, and would thereby also diminish the chance for
the consummation itself. So at last he seems to have left the war
Democrats to puzzle over the conundrum, and decide as best they could.
Of course the doubt affected unfavorably the votes of some of them.
A measure of the mischief which was done by these suspicions and by
Greeley's assertions that the administration did not desire peace, may
be taken from a letter, written to Mr. Lincoln on August 22 by Mr. Henry
J. Raymond, chairman of the National Executive Committee of the
Republican party. From all sides, Mr. Raymond says, "I hear but one
report. The tide is setting strongly against us." Mr. Washburne, he
writes, despairs of Illinois, and Mr. Cameron of Pennsylvania, and he
himself is not hopeful of New York, and Governor Morton is doubtful of
Indiana; "and so of the rest." For this melancholy condition he assigns
two causes: the want of military successes, and the belief "that we are
not to have peace in any event under this administration until slavery
is abandoned. In some way or other the suspicion is widely diffused that
we can have peace with union, if we would." Then even this stanch
Republican leader suggests that it might be good policy to sound
Jefferson Davis on the feasibility of peace "on the sole condition of
acknowledging the supremacy of the Constitution,--all other questions to
be settled in a convention of the people of all the States." The
President might well have been thrown into inextricable confusion of
mind, betwixt the assaults of avowed enemies, the denunciations and
predictions of inimical friends, the foolish advice of genuine
supporters. It is now plain that all the counsel which was given to him
was bad, from whatsoever quarter it came. It shows the powerfulness of
his nature that he retained his cool and accurate judgment, although
the crisis was such that even he also had to admit that the danger of
defeat was imminent. To Mr. Raymond's panic-stricken suggestions he made
a very shrewd response by drafting some instructions for the purpose of
sending that gentleman himself on the mission to Mr. Davis. It was the
same tactics which he had pursued in dispatching Mr. Greeley to meet the
Southerners in Canada. The result was that the fruitlessness of the
suggestion was admitted by its author.
As if all hurtful influences were to be concentrated against the
President, it became necessary just at this inopportune time to make
good the terrible waste in the armies caused by expiration of terms of
service and by the bloody campaigns of Grant and Sherman. Volunteering
was substantially at an end, and a call for troops would have to be
enforced by a draft. Inevitably this would stir afresh the hostility of
those who dreaded that the conscription might sweep into military
service themselves or those dear to them. It was Mr. Lincoln's duty,
however, to make the demand, and to make it at once. He did so;
regardless of personal consequences, he called for 500,000 more men.
Thus in July and August the surface was covered with straws, and every
one of them indicated a current setting strongly against Mr. Lincoln.
Unexpectedly the Democratic Convention made a small counter-eddy; for
the peace Democrats, led by Vallandigham, were ill advised enough to
force a peace plank into the platform. This was at once repudiated by
McClellan in his letter of acceptance, and then again was reiterated by
Vallandigham as the true policy of the party. Thus war Democrats were
alarmed, and a split was opened. Yet it was by no means such a chasm as
that which, upon the opposite side, divided the radicals and politicians
from the mass of their Republican comrades. It might affect ratios, but
did not seem likely to change results. In a word, all political
observers now believed that military success was the only medicine which
could help the Republican prostration, and whether this medicine could
be procured was very doubtful.
FOOTNOTES:
[64] Arnold, _Lincoln_, 384, 385. Nicolay and Hay seem to me to go too
far in belittling the opposition to Mr. Lincoln within the Republican
party.
[65] See Arnold, _Lincoln_, 385. But the fact is notorious among all who
remember those times.
[66] _Polit. Recoll. 243 et seq._ Mr. Julian here gives a vivid sketch
of the opposition to Mr. Lincoln.
[67] In the _National Intelligencer_, February 22, 1864.
[68] Lovejoy had generally stood faithfully by the President.
[69] N. and H. ix. 40.
[70] I Samuel xxii. 2.
[71] See, more especially, McClure, _Lincoln and Men of War-Times_,
chapter on "Lincoln and Hamlin," 104-118. This writer says (p. 196) that
Lincoln's first selection was General Butler.
[72] Further illustration of this unquestionable fact was furnished by
the volunteer mission of Colonel Jaquess and Mr. Gilmore to Richmond in
July. N. and H. vol. ix. ch. ix.