SECOND ELECTION.
It was Lincoln's life-long habit to keep himself close to the plain
people. He loved them. He declared that the Lord must love them or he
would not have made so many of them. Out of them he came, to them he
belonged. In youth he was the perennial peacemaker and umpire of
disputes in his rural neighborhood. When he was President the same
people instinctively turned to him for help. The servants called him
Old Abe,--from them a term of affection, not of indignity. The soldiers
called him Father Abraham. He was glad to receive renowned politicians
and prominent business men at the White House; he was more glad to see
the plain people. When a farmer neighbor addressed him as "Mister
President," he said, "Call me Lincoln." The friendship of these people
rested him.
Then, too, he had a profound realization of their importance to the
national prosperity. It was their instincts that constituted the
national conscience. It was their votes that had elected him. It was
their muskets that had defended the capital. It was on their loyalty
that he counted for the ultimate triumph of the Union cause. As his
administrative policy progressed it was his concern not to outstrip
them so far as to lose their support. In other words, he was to lead
them, not run away from them. His confidence in them was on the whole
well founded, though there were times when the ground seemed to be
slipping out from under him.
The middle portion of 1864 was one such period of discouragement. The
material for volunteer soldiers was about exhausted, and it was
becoming more and more necessary to depend upon the draft, and that
measure caused much friction. The war had been long, costly, sorrowful.
Grant was before Petersburg, Farragut at Mobile, and Sherman at
Atlanta. The two first had no promise of immediate success, and as to
the third it was a question whether he was not caught in his own trap.
This prolongation of the war had a bad effect on the northern public.
Lincoln, shrewdly and fairly, analyzed the factions of loyal people as
follows:
"We are in civil war. In such cases there always is a main question;
but in this case that question is a perplexing compound--Union and
slavery. It thus becomes a question not of two sides merely, but of at
least four sides, even among those who are for the Union, saying
nothing of those who are against it. Thus--
Those who are for the Union with, but not without, slavery;
Those for it without, but not with;
Those for it with or without, but prefer it with; and
Those for it with or without, but prefer it without.
Among these again is a subdivision of those who are for gradual, but
not for immediate, and those who are for immediate, but not for
gradual, extinction of slavery."
One man who was in the political schemes of that day says that in
Washington there were only three prominent politicians who were not
seriously discontented with and opposed to Lincoln. The three named
were Conkling, Sumner, and Wilson. Though there was undoubtedly a
larger number who remained loyal to their chief, yet the discontent was
general. The President himself felt this. Nicolay and Hay have
published a note which impressively tells the sorrowful story:
"Executive Mansion,
Washington, August 28, 1864.
This morning, as for some days past, it seems exceedingly probable that
this administration will not be reelected. Then it will be my duty to
so cooperate with the President-elect as to save the Union between the
election and the inauguration, as he will have secured his election on
such ground that he cannot possibly save it afterward.
A. Lincoln."
Early in the year this discontent had broken out in a disagreeable and
dangerous form. The malcontents were casting about to find a candidate
who would defeat Lincoln. They first tried General Rosecrans, and from
him they got an answer of no uncertain sound. "My place," he declared,
"is here. The country gave me my education, and so has a right to my
military services."
Their next attempt was Grant, with whom they fared no better. Then they
tried Vice-President Hamlin who was certainly dissatisfied with the
slowness with which Lincoln moved in the direction of abolition. But
Hamlin would not be a candidate against his chief.
Then the Secretary of the Treasury, Chase, entered the race as a rival
of Lincoln. When this became known, the President was urged by his
friends to dismiss from the cabinet this secretary who was so far out
of sympathy with the administration he was serving. He refused to do
this so long as Chase did his official duties well, and when Chase
offered to resign he told him there was no need of it. But the citizens
of Ohio, of which state Chase had in 1860 been the "favorite son," did
not take the same view of the matter. Both legislature and mass
meetings demanded his resignation so emphatically that he could not
refuse. He did resign and was for a short time in private life. In
December, 1864, Lincoln, in the full knowledge of the fact that during
the summer Chase had done his utmost to injure him, nominated him as
chief justice, and from him received his oath of office at his second
inaugural.
The search for a rival for Lincoln was more successful when Fremont was
solicited. He was nominated by a convention of extreme abolitionists
that met in the city of Cleveland. But it soon became apparent that his
following was insignificant, and he withdrew his name.
The regular republican convention was held in Baltimore, June 8, 1864.
Lincoln's name was presented, as in 1860, by the state of Illinois. On
the first ballot he received every vote except those from the state of
Missouri. When this was done, the Missouri delegates changed their
votes and he was nominated unanimously.
In reply to congratulations, he said, "I do not allow myself to suppose
that either the convention or the League have concluded to decide that
I am either the greatest or best man in America, but rather that they
have concluded that it is not best to swap horses while crossing the
river, and have further concluded that I am not so poor a horse that
they might not make a botch of it trying to swap."
That homely figure of "swapping horses while crossing the river" caught
the attention of the country. It is doubtful if ever a campaign speech,
or any series of campaign speeches, was so effective in winning and
holding votes as that one phrase.
But, as has already been said, the prospects during the summer,--for
there was a period of five months from the nomination to the election,
--were anything but cheering. At this crisis there developed a means of
vigorous support which had not previously been estimated at its full
value. In every loyal state there was a "war governor." Upon these men
the burdens of the war had rested so heavily that they understood, as
they would not otherwise have understood, the superlative weight of
cares that pressed on the President, and they saw more clearly than
they otherwise could have seen, the danger in swapping horses while
crossing the river. These war governors rallied with unanimity and with
great earnestness to the support of the President. Other willing
helpers were used. The plain people, as well as the leading patriots,
rallied to the support of the President.
The democrats nominated McClellan on the general theory that the war
was a failure. As election day approached, the increased vigor with
which the war was prosecuted made it look less like a failure, even
though success was not in sight. The result of the election was what in
later days would be called a landslide. There were two hundred and
thirty-three electors. Of this number two hundred and twelve were for
Lincoln. The loyal North was back of him. He might now confidently gird
himself for finishing the work.
Such was his kindliness of spirit that he was not unduly elated by
success, and never, either in trial or achievement, did he become
vindictive or revengeful. After the election he was serenaded, and in
acknowledgment he made a little speech. Among other things he said,
"Now that the election is over, may not all, having a common interest,
reunite in a common effort to save our common country? For my own part,
I have striven, and will strive, to place no obstacle in the way. So
long as I have been here _I have not willingly planted a thorn in any
man's bosom_."