When Abraham Lincoln was twenty-two years old and a clerk in Denton Offutt's store he offered himself to the voters of New Salem and vicinity as a candidate for the Illinois Legislature. It was the year that the Whigs held their first National Convention and nominated Henry Clay as their candidate for President; and from that time, as has been seen, Lincoln made politics as well as law a profession, and participated actively in every campaign until he was elected President.

In those days nominations for office were made by announcement and not by conventions, and, according to custom, with thirteen other citizens fired with similar ambition, Lincoln issued a circular or "handbill," as it was familiarly called, setting forth in quaint and characteristic candor his "sentiments with regard to local affairs." It was his platform, and no utterance of his entire life is more interesting than the few personal remarks which he addressed to his neighbors:

"Every man is said to have his peculiar ambition. Whether it be true or not, I can say, for one, that I have no other so great as that of being truly esteemed of my fellow-men by rendering myself worthy of their esteem. How far I shall succeed in gratifying this ambition is yet to be developed. I am young, and unknown to many of you. I was born, and have ever remained, in the most humble walks of life. I have no wealthy or popular relations or friends to recommend me. My case is thrown exclusively upon the independent voters of the county, and if elected they will have conferred a favor upon me for which I shall be unremitting in my labors130 to compensate. But if the good people in their wisdom shall see fit to keep me in the background, I have been too familiar with disappointments to be very much chagrined."

It was an audacious act for a young man who had been in the county only about nine months to aspire to the honor and responsibility of a law-maker, but, compared with his neighbors, Lincoln's qualifications were conspicuous. He could read and write, had a fair knowledge of literature, had read two or three law-books, was a practical surveyor, and by reason of his two journeys to New Orleans had seen a good deal more of the world than any one in that neighborhood. But these qualifications did not count for much in comparison with his ability as a public speaker and his faculty of doing things which had already made him a reputation throughout the county. Although his advantages had been limited, they were superior to those enjoyed by three-fourths of the young men in Sangamon County, and for education, experience, and other qualifications he surpassed a majority of the members of the Legislature. There were only a few men of culture and education in that body. It was chiefly made up of illiterate pioneers who mixed politics with farming and carried on their campaigns at camp-meetings, horseraces, country stores, and taverns, and resorted to every subterfuge that their shrewd minds could invent to secure votes. At the same time they were generally honest, patriotic, and earnest for the welfare of their constituents and their personal characters commanded the esteem and confidence of the public. Among such men Lincoln's talent for talking and writing, his knowledge of poetry and literature, and, more than all, his genius as a story-teller excited admiration and respect, and he was regarded as the most promising young man in the neighborhood. His announcement "handbill" discussed the several topics which at that time were being131 agitated, such as the improvement of the Sangamon River. He related his experience with flat-boats, and declared that by straightening the channel and clearing away the drift-wood the stream could be made navigable. "The improvement of the Sangamon River," he sagely remarked, "is an object much better suited to our infant resources" than the construction of a railway, and, indeed, it was fifteen years later that the first whistle of a locomotive was heard in Illinois. He took broad grounds in favor of internal improvements, advocated a law prohibiting money-loaners from charging exorbitant rates of interest, and favored liberal appropriations for education.

"For my part," he said, "I desire to see the time when education, and by its means morality, sobriety, enterprise, and industry, shall become much more general than at present, and should be gratified to have it in my power to contribute something to the advancement of any measure which might have a tendency to accelerate that happy period."

Perhaps, if he could have made a thorough campaign and extended his acquaintance and popularity throughout the county, he might have been elected, but just a month after his announcement was published he went off to the Black Hawk War (as is told in Chapter VI.) and did not return until a few days before the election, so that his canvass was limited. It was long enough, however, for him to make a record as a man of moral courage and ability. Although the great majority of the population were Democrats, he boldly declared himself a Whig, which must have cost him many votes. National issues were not usually brought into local politics, but the contest between Clay and Jackson was animated and bitter; the Democrats were despotic and intolerant towards the opposition, and were so much in the majority that a Whig had very little consideration. Lincoln has left us a brief account of the campaign, in132 which he says that he ran as "an avowed Clay man," and in his speeches advocated the principles and policy of Henry Clay's platform. "I am in favor of a national bank; I am in favor of an internal improvement system and a high protective tariff," he announced boldly, and it must have cost him a severe struggle with his ambition to have placed himself upon the unpopular side and to have joined a hopeless minority at the beginning of his political career; but he obeyed his convictions, and nothing better illustrates the stuff of which the man was made.

The returns show that out of 2168 votes Lincoln received only 657, less than one-third of the whole. In New Salem, where he lived, he received all but three of the votes cast, although a few months later Andrew Jackson carried the same precinct with 185 votes against 70 for Henry Clay.

This was the only time that Abraham Lincoln was defeated on a direct vote of the people. He was greatly gratified by the evidence of his popularity, and was confident that if he could extend his acquaintance through the county he would be successful at the next election; but how was he to get a living in the mean time? Offutt's store had failed and he was out of employment. He describes the situation himself as follows: "He was now without means and out of business, but was anxious to remain with his friends, who had treated him with so much generosity, especially as he had nothing elsewhere to go to. He studied what he should do; thought of learning the blacksmith trade, thought of trying to study law, rather thought he could not succeed at that without a better education."

It was a crisis in his life, but he was conscious of his own ability and his faith in himself was strong. If his judgment had been equally accurate, he would have been saved great anxiety and trouble, for it was at this time that he was induced to go into the mercantile speculation133 which turned out so badly. He managed to make a living, however, and pull through, and when the campaign of 1834 came it was a matter of course that he should again be a candidate for the Legislature. He spent almost the entire summer electioneering, most of the time in those parts of the county where he was least acquainted, appealing for votes in his own peculiar way. It was a rough-and-tumble canvass, often in company with other candidates. "Wherever he saw a crowd of men, he joined them, and he never failed to adapt himself to their point of view in asking for votes," says one of his friends. "If the degree of physical strength was their test for a candidate, he was ready to lift a weight or wrestle with any countryside champion. If the amount of grain a man could cut would recommend him, he seized the cradle and showed the swath he could cut." One of the farmers of the neighborhood tells this story:

"He [Lincoln] came to my house, near Island Grove, during harvest. There were some thirty men in the field. He got his dinner and went out in the field where the men were at work. I gave him an introduction, and the boys said that they could not vote for a man unless he could make a hand. 'Well, boys,' said he, 'if that is all, I am sure of your votes.' He took hold of the cradle, and led the way all the round with perfect ease. The boys were satisfied, and I don't think he lost a vote in the crowd."

Thirteen candidates were contesting for the four seats in the Legislature and all were engaged in the campaign, besides candidates for Governor, for Congress, and for the State Senate. When the votes were counted, Lincoln's name headed the list. He received 1376, considerably more than a majority, and more than double the total he had received at the election two years before.

At this point Lincoln's political career actually begins, and although during his first session in the Legislature he showed no particular talent and took a modest position134 in the background, he secured the respect of his colleagues both for his abilities and his character, and among them were several men who afterwards became almost as prominent as himself. They included future governors, generals, senators, judges, and cabinet ministers. In this and future sessions of the Legislature he sat beside Stephen A. Douglas, afterwards United States Senator and Democratic candidate for the Presidency against Lincoln; Edward D. Baker, Senator from both Illinois and Oregon, who was killed at the battle of Ball's Bluff; Orville H. Browning, afterwards United States Senator and Secretary of the Interior; John A. McClernand, for several years a member of the House of Representatives and a major-general in the Civil War; John Logan, father of the late General John A. Logan; Robert M. Cullom, father of Senator Shelby M. Cullom, and others of comparative distinction. These were new associates for the poor young man, and more to his taste as well as his advantage. From this time he cultivated men from whom he could learn, but never lost his affection for those who had shared his humble hardships. He was re-elected to the Legislature four successive terms, in 1836, 1838, and 1840, and spent eight years in the service of his State, making many mistakes and enjoying several triumphs, growing in the esteem and confidence of the people, extending his usefulness and influence, and gradually advancing to a high place among the leaders of the Whig party, which was rapidly gaining in strength.

Among the interesting features of Lincoln's legislative career is a declaration in favor of a limited woman suffrage which appeared in his "handbill" in the campaign of 1836, when he was twenty-seven years old and unmarried.

"I go for all sharing the privileges of the government who assist in bearing its burdens," he said; "consequently I go for admitting all whites to the right of135 suffrage who pay taxes or bear arms, by no means excluding females."

The Legislature of 1836 and 1837 was responsible for many "wild-cat" schemes which brought disaster upon the people of the young State, and Lincoln was guilty of the same folly and lack of judgment which characterized his associates. It should be said, however, that he was enthusiastically supported by his constituents and public opinion generally, and believed that he was doing the best that could be done for the community.

His greatest triumph was won as the leader of the movement to remove the State capital from Vandalia to Springfield. Being given the management of the bill, he applied all his energy and ability to the task, here showing the same strategic genius which was afterwards demonstrated in the management of the war. His plan of campaign was simple but shrewd. He first persuaded the Legislature to pass a bill removing the capital from Vandalia, then he secured a succession of votes upon other locations, and finally succeeded in carrying a direct vote in favor of Springfield, which was accomplished by his personal influence. Jesse K. Dubois, who represented another part of the State, says, "We gave the vote to Lincoln because we liked him, because we wanted to oblige him, our friend, and because we wanted to recognize him as our leader," which is a great tribute considering the fact that the delegation from Sangamon County was an unusually strong one. It was famous for the stature of its nine members, which, combined, was fifty-five feet. The delegation was known as "the Long Nine."

When the law was signed the citizens of Springfield tendered a banquet to their representatives, and among the toasts was this:

"Abraham Lincoln: one of Nature's noblemen; he has fulfilled the expectations of his friends and disappointed the hopes of his enemies."

136 In 1838 and again in 1840 Lincoln was the Whig candidate for Speaker of the House of Representatives, which was the highest tribute his colleagues could pay him and illustrates his rapid advancement in influence. Nor did he take this leading position without rivalry. There were strong men among the Whigs of Illinois even at that date. That party represented the wealth, education, and culture of the State, as the Republican party does to-day, while the masses of the people were Democrats. Notwithstanding this rivalry, he pushed rapidly forward, and the qualities which he had shown from the beginning of his political career were strengthened by experience, knowledge, and self-confidence. His kindly disposition and good-nature, his wit and his stories, his willingness to accept any responsibility that might be thrust upon him or undertake any duty, no matter how laborious or disagreeable, and his determination to succeed in everything he attempted made him a leader; while his skill in debate, in parliamentary tactics, and political organization made his co-operation necessary to the success of any movement.

Lincoln organized the Whig party in Illinois. Up to 1832 the convention system was unknown. In that year it was introduced by the Democrats and was denounced with great vigor by the Whigs, who declared it an invention "intended to abridge the liberties of the people by depriving individuals of the privilege of becoming candidates for office, and depriving them of the right to vote for candidates of their own choice;" nevertheless, all good Whigs, and Lincoln among them, immediately recognized the advantages of the new plan. It concentrated the strength of a party upon single candidates for offices instead of allowing it to be scattered and wasted upon several who voluntarily offered themselves. The "machine" organized by Jackson's supporters worked well; Lincoln watched it closely, and although he was reluctant to accept the principle, he was compelled to137 admit the advantage of the practice, and prepared, at the request of his fellow-Whigs, a confidential circular which formed the basis of a remarkably complete and effective organization of the Whig party in the State.

In 1841, the year previous to his marriage, Lincoln was offered the Whig nomination for Governor, but declined it. He also declined renomination for the Legislature the following year, and became a candidate for Congress. He did not wait to be invited, but sought the nomination and managed his own canvass. He never believed in concealing his ambition; he was never guilty of false modesty; he held that it was an honorable aspiration, and acted accordingly; but, to his disappointment, Sangamon County was instructed for his friend and colleague, Edward D. Baker. He was the more sensitive because he, "a stranger, friendless, uneducated, penniless boy, working on a flat-boat at ten dollars a month," he wrote a friend, had "been put down here as the candidate of pride, wealth, and aristocratic family distinction. Yet so, chiefly, it was. There was, too, the strangest combination of church influence against me. Baker is a Campbellite, and therefore, as I suppose, with few exceptions, got all that church. My wife has some relations in the Presbyterian churches and some with the Episcopal churches; and therefore, wherever it would tell, I was set down as either the one or the other, while it was everywhere contended that no Christian ought to go for me, because I belonged to no church, was suspected of being a deist, and had talked about fighting a duel. With all these things Baker, of course, had nothing to do. Nor do I complain of them. As to his own church going for him, I think that was right enough, and as to the influences I have spoken of in the other, though they were very strong, it would be grossly untrue and unjust to charge that they acted upon them in a body, or were very near so. I only mean that those influences levied a tax of a considerable138 per cent. upon my strength throughout the religious community."

Lincoln was appointed a delegate to the Convention and instructed to look after Baker's interests. This, he said, "was a good deal like acting as bridegroom for a man who has cut you out;" but he was loyal and energetic and as skilful as usual, although unsuccessful. J. M. Ruggles, one of the delegates, says, "The ayes and noes had been taken and there were fifteen votes apiece, and one in doubt that had not arrived. That was myself. I was known to be a warm friend of Baker, representing people who were partial to Hardin. As soon as I arrived Baker hurried to me, saying, 'How is it? It all depends on you.' On being told that, notwithstanding my partiality for him, the people I represented expected me to vote for Hardin, and that I would have to do so, Baker at once replied, 'You are right—there is no other way.' The Convention was organized, and I was elected secretary. Baker immediately arose and made a most thrilling address, thoroughly arousing the sympathies of the Convention, and ended by declining his candidacy. Hardin was nominated by acclamation and then came the episode.

"Immediately after the nomination, Mr. Lincoln walked across the room to my table and asked if I would favor a resolution recommending Baker for the next term. On being answered in the affirmative, he said, 'You prepare the resolution, I will support it, and I think we can pass it.' The resolution created a profound sensation, especially with the friends of Hardin. After an excited and angry discussion, the resolution passed by a majority of one."

Thus Lincoln defeated his own prospects for a Congressional nomination for four years. Baker was elected in 1844, and then his turn came in 1846, when the Democrats gave him for a competitor the famous Methodist circuit rider, Peter Cartwright, one of the best-known139 and beloved men of that period on the frontier. He was the highest type of the itinerant preacher. For sixty years he travelled on horseback throughout the Western country, marrying the young people, baptizing their children, burying the dead, preaching by the wayside and in the forests, and when he died in 1872, at eighty-seven years of age, the record of his ministry showed that he had admitted to the church twelve thousand persons, had preached fifteen thousand sermons, and a procession of one hundred and twenty-nine children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren followed him to his grave. With all his piety and devotion to the Methodist Church, Peter Cartwright was an ardent admirer of Andrew Jackson and a Democrat of the most intolerant pro-slavery type. He probably had a larger acquaintance than any other man in the State, was an exhorter of magnetic intensity, and his energy was unsurpassed; but, nevertheless, Lincoln defeated him by 1511 majority when Henry Clay carried the district by only 914.

When the Thirtieth Congress was called to order on December 6, 1847, Abraham Lincoln answered to his name. The rolls also bore the name of Stephen A. Douglas, but before the House of Representatives met he had been elected to the United States Senate. Lincoln was the only Whig member from Illinois. In those days the House met in the old Hall of Representatives, now used for statuary, and he was so unfortunate as to draw one of the most undesirable seats far in the background. He was assigned to the Committee on Post-Offices and Post-Roads, at the foot of the list, attended its meetings regularly, and occasionally took part in the debates on the bills appropriating money for the support of the postal service and other matters pertaining to that committee. He also was a member of the Committee on Expenditures in the War Department, which, however, never met. He devoted a good deal of time trying to secure amendments to the laws relating to bounty lands140 for soldiers, a subject of which he had some personal knowledge, having himself received a patent for some wild land in Iowa. He looked after certain grants of land made to railroads in Illinois, and endeavored to protect actual settlers who might possibly have been interfered with. During his first session he made the personal acquaintance of but few members, and lived at a quiet Congressional boarding-house kept by a Mrs. Sprigg, on Capitol Hill, where his messmates were Joshua R. Giddings, of Ohio, and several other Whigs. His favorite place of resort was the post-office of the House of Representatives, where he was in the habit of meeting and exchanging stories with several congenial spirits. Among them were Robert Toombs and Alexander H. Stephens, who, like himself, were destined to become conspicuous figures in the great impending drama. Several writers have described encounters between Lincoln and Jefferson Davis at this period, but they were imaginary. Although Mr. Davis was appointed to the Senate the same year, it is not probable that he ever met the obscure member of the Lower House from Illinois.

From the recollections of his colleagues we have many incidents and anecdotes of more or less interest, which show that he retained the same unassuming, simple habits that characterized him as a member of the Legislature.

Daniel Webster, who was then in the Senate, used occasionally to have Lincoln at one of his pleasant Saturday breakfasts, where the Western Congressman's humorous illustrations of the events of the day, sparkling with spontaneous and unpremeditated wit, would give great delight to "the solid men of Boston" assembled around the festive board. At one time Lincoln had transacted some legal business for Mr. Webster connected with an embryo city laid out where Rock River empties into the Mississippi. Mr. Fletcher Webster had141 gone there for a while; but Rock Island City was not a pecuniary success, and much of the land on which but one payment had been made reverted to the original owners. Lincoln had charged Mr. Webster for his legal services ten dollars, which the great expounder of the Constitution regarded as too small a fee, and he would frequently declare that he was still Lincoln's debtor.

The librarian of the United States Supreme Court remembers that Lincoln came to the library one day for the purpose of procuring some law-books which he wanted to take to his room for examination. He placed them in a pile on the table, tied them up with a large bandanna handkerchief from his pocket, and, putting a stick which he had brought with him through a knot in the handkerchief, shouldered his burden and marched off to his room. In a few days he returned the books in the same way.

He saw very little of the social life of the capital, although Mrs. Lincoln was with him during the long session. His experience was similar to that of the average green Congressman who comes to Washington unheralded and who is compelled to live on his salary. The only social adventure of which we have any knowledge was in attending the inaugural ball, March 4, 1849, of which Mr. E. B. Washburne writes,—

"A small number of mutual friends, including Mr. Lincoln, made up a party to attend Taylor's inauguration ball together. It was by far the most brilliant inauguration ball ever given. Of course Mr. Lincoln had never seen anything of the kind before. One of the most modest and unpretending persons present, he could not have dreamed that like honors were to come to him almost within a little more than a decade. He was greatly interested in all that was to be seen, and we did not take our departure until three or four o'clock in the morning. When we went to the cloak and hat room, Mr. Lincoln had no trouble in finding his short coat, which142 little more than covered his shoulders, but after a long search was unable to find his hat. After an hour he gave up all idea of finding it. Taking his cloak on his arm, he walked out into Judiciary Square, deliberately adjusted it on his shoulders, and started off bareheaded for his lodgings. It would be hard to forget the sight of that tall and slim man, with his short cloak thrown over his shoulders, starting for his long walk home on Capitol Hill, at four o'clock in the morning, without any hat on."

After the election of President Taylor, in 1848, Lincoln, being the only Whig member of Congress from Illinois, was required to recommend candidates for office and practically controlled the patronage of the State. He was not a civil service reformer. Even while he was President he adhered to the time-honored doctrine that the victors in politics, as in war, were entitled to the spoils, while at the same time he endeavored to get the most efficient men available for the public offices and recognized merit as the first claim for promotion. While in Congress he performed his duty with absolute fairness to his political foes and with loyalty to his political friends so far as he was able to control appointments. Some of his recommendations are unique, for example:

"I recommend that William Butler be appointed Pension Agent for the Illinois agency when the place shall be vacant. Mr. Hurst, the present incumbent, I believe has performed his duties very well. He is a decided partisan, and I believe expects to be removed. Whether he shall be, I submit to the Department. This office is not confined to my district, but pertains to the whole State; so that Colonel Baker has an equal right with myself to be heard concerning it. However, the office is located here (at Springfield), and I think it is not probable that any one would desire to remove from a distance to take it."

In another instance he writes the Secretary of Interior,143 "I recommend that Walter Davis be appointed Receiver of the Land Office at this place, whenever there shall be a vacancy. I cannot say that Mr. Herndon, the present incumbent, has failed in the proper discharge of any of the duties of the office. He is a warm partisan, and openly and actively opposed to the election of General Taylor. I also understand that since General Taylor's election he has received a reappointment from Mr. Polk, his old commission not having expired. Whether this is true the records of the Department will show. I may add that the Whigs here almost universally desire his removal."

In another case he forwards the recommendations of the man whom he does not prefer, with an endorsement calling attention to the importance of the writers, and adding, "From personal knowledge I consider Mr. Bond every way worthy of the office and qualified to fill it. Holding the individual opinion that the appointment of a different gentleman would be better, I ask especial attention and consideration of his claims, and for the opinions expressed in his favor by those over whom I can claim no superiority."

In all his communications to the Executive Department concerning appointments to office, he never claims a place because of his position and influence; nor does he demand patronage on behalf of his party or his State; nor does he ask for the removal of an incumbent, although in several cases he says that it is desired by the public and the patrons of the office. He always puts himself in the position of an adviser to the government, and modestly expresses his opinion as to the best man for appointment. If there are two candidates, he describes their qualifications with evident candor and fairness.

Lincoln was tendered the Governorship of Oregon, and might have been Commissioner of the General Land Office under President Taylor, but, fortunately, resisted the temptation.

144 Amos Tuck, of New Hampshire, in his memoirs, says, "In December, 1847, I made my first visit to Washington, and at the same time took my seat as a member of the House of Representatives. The representation of New Hampshire was equally divided, or rather was half Democratic, Messrs. Peaslee and Johnson, and half opposition, Mr. Wilson, Whig, and myself, Independent Democrat. It was the second Congress in Mr. Polk's administration, and the Mexican War was at its height. Robert C. Winthrop was Speaker.

"The most distinguished man by far, member of the House, was John Quincy Adams. By general consent he had for years occupied the seat of his choice, one of the two largest on the floor, in the second row of seats, the first fronting the Speaker at the left. New members were anxious to see Mr. Adams, the honored ex-President, politically the most distinguished man of the country. He was old and feeble, but clear in mind and decided in all his views as he had been in the days of his vigor. He made one short speech early in the session, but could be heard only by a few near him, and in the month of February following died in the Speaker's room at the Capitol.

"I was late in arriving.... In the fourth seat at my left sat a new member from Illinois, the only Whig from that State, a tall, awkward, genial, good fellow, the future President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln. He was then thirty-nine years old, bore all the signs of scanty preparation for influential position, and excited attention only as the lone star of Illinois Whigs and as an agreeable specimen of frontier character. He was not regarded as a man of mark, nor did the thought seem to have entered his own mind of ever taking a high position in the country. Mr. Lincoln had no opportunity, if he had then had the ability, which I do not think he possessed at that time, of distinguishing himself. I remember that the good-will145 of his acquaintances was strong in his favor. He made one set speech, near the close of the session, wherein he made sundry telling points against the Democrats, delivering it in the open area in front of the clerk's desk, and created much amusement by the aptness of his illustrations, walking around in front of the Democratic members, singling out individuals specially responsible for unsound and inconsistent doctrines. He was good-natured, enjoyed his own wit, heartily joined in the amusement he excited in others, and sat down amid the cheers of his friends. The friendship formed between Mr. Lincoln and myself in that Congress continued through his life. Alexander H. Stephens and Robert Toombs, of Georgia, were likewise members of the Thirtieth Congress, as they had been of the previous Congress. They were both Whigs, the leading men in the House of their party in the South, but more wedded to slave interests than to their political party."

His term in Congress ended on March 4, 1849, and he was not a candidate for re-election. A year before he had contemplated the possibility of entering the field again. He then wrote to his friend and partner, Herndon, "It is very pleasant for me to learn from you that there are some who desire that I should be re-elected. I made the declaration that I would not be a candidate again, more from a wish to deal fairly with others, to keep peace among our friends, and keep the district from going to the enemy, than for any cause personal to myself, so that, if it should so happen that nobody else wishes to be elected, I could not refuse the people the right of sending me again. But to enter myself as a competitor of others, or to authorize any one so to enter me, is what my word and honor forbid."

Upon returning from Congress in the spring of 1849, Lincoln renewed his law practice and devoted himself exclusively to it, taking no part in politics and having all that he could do in court until there was a great upheaval146 in the political situation caused by the repeal of the Missouri Compromise. This so aroused his patriotism and indignation against the Democratic party that he went back to the stump and the committee-room and again became the recognized leader of the Whig party in Illinois. All through Illinois and other States in the neighborhood the Whig politicians turned to him for counsel, which was due to his reputation for wisdom and sagacity. It has been said that Lincoln intended to retire from politics, and he wrote a friend that he "had lost interest until the repeal of the Missouri Compromise;" but his ambition as well as his interest soon revived, for we find him in 1854 the most prominent candidate of the Whig party for the United States Senate.

There was an exciting canvass of the State. He entered into it with great enthusiasm, spoke in nearly every county, and it was agreed by all concerned that if the Republican and Anti-Nebraska Democrats should carry the Legislature, Lincoln would be elected to succeed General Shields. He expected it himself, and his defeat brought him more disappointment and chagrin than any other event in his life. It was a painful experience, but he accepted the result with his usual good-nature and philosophy, and his conduct under the most trying circumstances added lustre to his reputation as a patriotic, honorable, unselfish man, and he never forgot his obligation to those who stood by him in the contest.

With his usual candor, he had addressed letters to the Whigs and Anti-Nebraska men who had been elected to the Legislature, asking their support. The replies were almost without exception favorable and in some cases enthusiastic. He was personally known to almost every member, and by his voice and advice had assisted all the Whig candidates during the campaign. But, unfortunately, a complication arose which embarrassed them and him. He had been elected as one of147 the members from Sangamon County, and the Constitution of the State contained a clause making members of the Legislature and other officials ineligible to the United States Senate. The highest authorities pronounced this provision unconstitutional because the Senate alone was authorized to decide the qualifications of its own members and a State Legislature had no jurisdiction over the subject; but, rather than run the risk of taking the election into the courts, Lincoln decided to resign, relying upon the majority of 650 votes, which had been cast for him, to elect another Whig in his place. Very little interest was taken in the canvass. The Democrats appeared inclined to let the contest go by default. That disarmed the leaders of the Whig party and made the rank and file indifferent. For the first and only time in his political career Lincoln was caught napping. The Democrats nominated a candidate at the very last moment, plunged into a hasty but energetic canvass, got out a full vote, and elected his successor by 60 majority, which lost the Legislature to the Whigs and left them dependant upon their Free-Soil Democratic allies. The members of that party in other parts of the State were very indignant and blamed Lincoln for this unlooked-for result.

He was still further embarrassed by the unauthorized and impertinent act of a small group of abolitionists who met in Springfield before the session of the Legislature, passed resolutions endorsing Lincoln as their candidate for the Senate, and, without consulting him, appointed him a member of their State Central Committee. There were only twenty-six in the assembly,—earnest, eager men, and radical in their views,—and although Lincoln's policy of recognizing the constitutional authority for slavery was well known to them, they admired his ability and the able fight he was making against the extension of the system in the Territories. He was not aware that his name appeared148 in the list of the abolitionist committee until several weeks after the Convention had adjourned. In fact, very little notice was taken of its meetings, and its action was discovered by the Democrats before it was known to the Whigs. Lincoln immediately wrote a letter declining to serve and saying that he was perplexed to understand why his name was used, because he supposed that his position on the slavery question was not at all satisfactory to their party. But, notwithstanding his disavowal, five Anti-Nebraska Democrats refused under any circumstances to support him for Senator, but cast their votes for Lyman Trumbull. Lincoln was voted for by the other Free-Soilers and Shields by the Democrats. In a letter to Mr. Washburne, written on the evening after the election, Lincoln gives this description of the close of the fight:

"In the mean time our friends, with a view of detaining our expected bolters, had been turning from me to Trumbull until he had risen to 35 and I had been reduced to 15. These would never desert me except by my direction; but I became satisfied that if we could prevent Matteson's election one or two ballots more, we could possibly not do so a single ballot after my friends should begin to return to me from Trumbull. So I determined to strike at once; and accordingly advised my remaining friends to go for him, which they did, and elected him on that, the tenth ballot. Such is the way the thing was done. I think you would have done the same under the circumstances, though Judge Davis, who came down this morning, declares he never would have consented to the 47 (opposition) men being controlled by the 5. I regret my defeat moderately, but am not nervous about it. Perhaps it is well for our grand cause that Trumbull is elected."

And it turned out well for Lincoln, too, because if he had been elected Senator at that time he would never have taken the part he did in the organization of the149 Republican party, he would never have had the joint debate with Senator Douglas, and in all probability would not have been elected President. Lincoln resumed the practice of his profession, but did not retire from politics again. He took an active interest in every campaign, devoting much of his time to committee work and to the preparation of political literature, extending his acquaintance and increasing his popularity. In the winter of 1855 he attended a meeting of Free-Soil editors at Decatur, who decided upon organizing a Republican party in Illinois and called a convention of all who believed in resisting the extension of slavery to meet at Bloomington in May.

Lincoln was present, made a remarkable speech, which is described in Chapter III., was sent as a delegate to the First National Republican Convention at Philadelphia, and, much to his surprise, received 110 votes for Vice-President on the ticket with Frémont. He was made an elector, canvassed the State thoroughly, making more than fifty set speeches during the campaign, and served as a member of the State Committee.

Mr. Horace White, editor of the New York Evening Post, then connected with the Chicago Tribune, gives his recollections of Lincoln in the campaign: "I was Secretary of the Republican State Committee of Illinois during some years when he was in active campaign work. He was often present at meetings of the committee, and took part in the committee work. His judgment was very much deferred to in such matters. He was one of the shrewdest politicians in the State. Nobody had more experience in that way, nobody knew better than he what was passing in the minds of the people. Nobody knew better how to turn things to advantage politically, and nobody was readier to take such advantage, provided it did not involve dishonorable means. He could not cheat people out of their votes any more than he could out of their money. Mr. Lincoln150 never gave his assent, so far as my knowledge goes, to any plan or project for getting votes that would not have borne the full light of day.

"I never heard him express contempt for any man's honest errors, although he would sometimes make a droll remark or tell a funny story about them. Deference to other people's opinions was habitual to him. There was no calculation, no politics in it. It was part and parcel of his sense of equal rights. His democracy was of the unconscious kind—he did not know anything different from it."

In the fall of 1858 there was an election of the Illinois Legislature which would choose a successor to Senator Douglas, whose term of service was to expire March 3, 1859. The Republican party at that time was thoroughly organized and presented a united and enthusiastic front, with encouraging prospects of victory, and Lincoln was again its candidate for the United States Senate. The sympathy of his associates and the people generally over his defeat three years before, their appreciation of his services, their admiration for his ability, and their confidence in his integrity and judgment made him the unanimous choice, and for the first time in history the State Republican Convention passed a resolution to that effect. Then followed the most extraordinary canvass that has ever taken place in any of the States of the union,—the joint debate between Lincoln and Douglas which is described in Chapter III., followed by Lincoln's second defeat for the Senate. Many of Lincoln's friends believed that he might have been elected but for the interference of Horace Greeley, Seward, Colfax, Burlingame, and other earnest Republicans and antislavery men of national prominence, who urged the people of Illinois to support Douglas because he had opposed the Buchanan administration and had been denounced by the slave-holders of the South. But, while Lincoln was deeply wounded by this betrayal of what151 he considered a vital political principle, he realized that the existing apportionment of the State made his election improbable because it had been based upon the census of 1850 and gave the southern and Democratic counties an excessive representation over the northern Republican counties, which had more rapidly increased in population. The Republican State officers were chosen by a considerable majority, but the Democrats had eight majority in the Legislature, and Mr. Douglas was elected.

Lincoln had passed through an intense canvass, equally trying to his physical and mental endurance, and his strength as well as his temper were sorely tried; but he was never more composed, patient, and philosophical, and to his friends he wrote hopeful and cheerful letters, taking greater satisfaction in the reputation he had made and the results he had accomplished than he would have felt in a commission as United States Senator. As he told many people, he was not trying to defeat Douglas for Senator so much as to prevent his election to the Presidency, and he succeeded in doing so. The attention of the entire country had been drawn to the canvass in Illinois, Lincoln's name had become known everywhere throughout the country, and, as a Chicago editor wrote him, "You have at once sprung from the position of a capital fellow and a leading lawyer of Illinois to a national reputation."

Another friend wrote him, "You have made a noble canvass, which, if unavailing in this State, has earned you a national reputation and made you friends everywhere."

Lincoln's own view of the case is expressed in a letter to a friend as follows: "I wished, but I did not much expect, a better result.... I am glad I made the late race. It gave me a hearing on the great and durable question of the age, which I could have had in no other way; and though I now sink out of view, and152 shall be forgotten, I believe I have made some marks which will tell for the cause of civil liberty long after I am gone."

The folly of the Eastern Republicans in encouraging the election of Douglas was demonstrated immediately after the election, when that gentleman started upon a tour through the South and made a series of speeches in which he endeavored to convince the slave-holders that he was their best friend and should be their candidate for the Presidency. At the same time Lincoln was invited to speak in the Eastern States, and, after his address in Cooper Institute, New York City, made a tour through New England, creating great interest and making many friends. He became a national character, and his advice was sought by national leaders, to whom his sagacity was immediately apparent. He spent a great deal of time and wrote many letters during the winter of 1858-59, harmonizing the Republican party, concentrating its efforts, and reconciling local prejudices and preferences which conflicted and imperilled its success at the next election. He seemed gifted with foresight that was almost prophetic, for he pointed out with extraordinary accuracy the probable policy which would be pursued by the Democrats, and his suggestions as to the best means for the Republicans to adopt were broad, wise, and statesmanlike. For example, referring to a provision adopted by Massachusetts to restrict naturalization, he wrote, "Massachusetts is a sovereign and independent State, and it is no privilege of mine to scold her for what she does. Still, if from what she has done an inference is sought to be drawn as to what I would do, I may, without impropriety, speak out. I say, then, that, as I understand the Massachusetts provision, I am against its adoption in Illinois, or in any other place where I have a right to oppose it. Understanding the spirit of our institutions to aid at the elevation of men, I am opposed to whatever tends to153 degrade them. I have some little notoriety for commiserating the oppressed condition of the negro; and I should be strangely inconsistent if I could favor any project for curtailing the existing rights of white men, even though born in different lands and speaking different languages from myself."

He wrote from Springfield to Schuyler Colfax (afterwards Vice-President of the United States), July 6, 1859, "Besides a strong desire to make your personal acquaintance, I was anxious to speak with you on politics a little more fully than I can well do in a letter. My main object in such conversation would be to hedge against divisions in the Republican ranks generally, and particularly for the contest of 1860. The point of danger is the temptation in different localities to 'platform' for something which will be popular just there, but which, nevertheless, will be a firebrand elsewhere, and especially in a national convention. As instances, the movement against foreigners in Massachusetts; in New Hampshire, to make obedience to the fugitive-slave law punishable as a crime; in Ohio, to repeal the fugitive-slave law; and squatter sovereignty in Kansas. In these things there is explosive matter enough to blow up half a dozen national conventions, if it gets into them; and what gets very rife outside of conventions is very likely to find its way into them."

The idea of making Lincoln a Presidential candidate seems to have occurred to a great many people at about the same time, and shortly after his inauguration a regiment might have been organized of the friends who first named him. There are, however, some letters preserved which show that the suggestion had been made to him early in 1859, long before the Cooper Institute address; indeed, immediately after the close of the Senatorial fight in 1858 an editorial friend in Illinois wrote him as follows: "I would like to have a talk with you on political matters, as to the policy of announcing your name for154 the Presidency, while you are in our city. My partner and myself are about addressing the Republican editors of the State on the subject of a simultaneous announcement of your name for the Presidency."

To this Lincoln replied, "As to the other matter you kindly mention, I must in candor say that I do not think myself fit for the Presidency. I certainly am flattered and gratified that some partial friends think of me in that connection; but I really think it best for our cause that no concerted effort, such as you suggest, should be made."

It would seem from other remarks made at the time that he was planning another fight with Douglas and had the patience to wait six years to renew the contest. He wrote several friends that he intended to fight in the ranks, and declined to be a candidate for the Senate against Trumbull; but while he was writing those letters, about January 1, 1860, there was a conference at Springfield of the Republican leaders of the State, said to have been called by Mr. Norman B. Judd, at which a serious and organized effort was begun to secure his nomination. One of the gentlemen present says, "We asked him if his name might be used in connection with the nomination. With characteristic modesty, he doubted whether he could get the nomination even if he wished it, and asked until the next morning to answer us whether his name might be announced. The next day he authorized us, if we thought proper to do so, 'to place him in the field.' In answer to a question whether he would accept a nomination for Vice-President if he could not be put on the first place on the ticket, he replied that if his name were used for the office of President he would not permit it to be used for any other office, no matter how honorable it might be."

From this time Lincoln exerted every proper means to secure success. He did not repose idly in his Springfield office and allow his friends to do the work, but155 was quite as active and vigilant in his own behalf as any of his supporters, and managed the campaign himself. He had no funds, however, no literary bureau, no head-quarters or personal organization; nearly every letter he sent out on the subject was written with his own hand, and he used plain and characteristic language asking for the support of his friends in Illinois and other States. Whether his intention was to disarm jealousy, or whether he actually believed that his nomination was impossible, he intimated to several of his correspondents that he desired to make a brave show at the Chicago Convention because of the prestige it would give him in his future fight for the Senate. And to another he wrote, "I am not in a position where it would hurt much for me not to be nominated on the national ticket, but I am where it would hurt some for me not to get the Illinois delegates."

He even sent money from his own small means to pay the expenses of friends who were working in his interest. On March 10, 1860, he wrote to a gentleman in Kansas, "Allow me to say that I cannot enter the ring on the money basis,—first, because in the main it is wrong; and secondly, I have not and cannot get the money. I say in the main the use of money is wrong, but for certain objects in a political contest is both right and indispensable. With me, as with yourself, this long struggle has been one of great pecuniary loss. I now distinctly say this; if you shall be appointed a delegate to Chicago I will furnish one hundred dollars to bear the expense of the trip."

Nevertheless, Kansas instructed her delegation for Seward, whereupon Lincoln wrote a consoling letter to his friends and said, "Don't stir them up to anger, but come along to the Convention and I will do as I said about expenses." There is nothing to show whether the offer was accepted, but, with his usual gratitude for favors received or intended, he appointed his Kansas156 friend to a lucrative office within ten days after his inauguration, and frequently consulted him about the patronage in that State.

The Illinois State Convention gave Lincoln a hearty endorsement and sent an enthusiastic delegation to Chicago composed of personal friends of great ability, political experience, and personal influence, and by a combination with Chase from Ohio, Cameron from Pennsylvania, Bates from Missouri, and other anti-Seward candidates, he was nominated for the office of President of the United States. The credit of his success was claimed by many; several accounts of bargains have passed into history, and other fictitious explanations for his nomination have been printed from time to time, but we have the authority of David Davis, Norman B. Judd, and other friends who were authorized to speak for him, as well as his own testimony, that after the Convention adjourned he was free from all obligations except the gratitude he was glad to offer to his supporters.

The evening of the second day after the nomination brought to Springfield a committee of notification composed of some of the most distinguished men of that day and others who were destined to play a conspicuous part in national affairs. George Ashmun, of Massachusetts, was the chairman; Governor Boutwell, afterwards United States Senator and Secretary of the Treasury; Samuel Bowles, editor of the Springfield Republican; Carl Schurz, of Wisconsin; Gideon Welles, of Connecticut; Amos Tuck, of New Hampshire; William M. Evarts and Governor Edwin D. Morgan, of New York; "Pig-Iron" Kelley, of Pennsylvania; Francis P. Blair, of Missouri; and others were of the party. Most of them were disappointed at the result of the Convention and distrustful of the strength and ability of the prairie lawyer as a candidate. He received them, however, with simple dignity. They were invited to deliver their message at his modest home, and appeared157 there a few moments after their arrival in Springfield, to find him surrounded by his family and a few intimate friends. They saw a man of unprepossessing appearance, with long limbs, large hands and feet, stooping shoulders, coarse features, and a shock of rebellious hair. He was the last man in the world, perhaps, to judge by appearances, that this committee would have chosen as a Presidential candidate; but when he began to speak in reply to Mr. Ashmun, a change seemed to come over him. The rugged face and awkward figure were transformed, and the members of the committee recognized at once that they were in the presence of a man who was master of himself and possessed a strength they had not suspected. And when they left Springfield, almost without exception, they were convinced of the wisdom of his nomination.

The opposing candidates prepared long letters of acceptance explanatory of their views and defining their purposes, but Lincoln had already recognized the wisdom of reticence, and the night of his nomination, standing in his own doorway, he told his neighbors and friends who called to congratulate him and demanded a speech that "the time comes upon every man when it is best to keep his lips closed. That time has come to me." Hence his letter of acceptance was the briefest ever written by a Presidential candidate. After one formal introductory phrase, it reads:

    "The declaration of principles which accompanies your letter meets my approval, and it shall be my care not to violate it or disregard it in any way or part. Imploring the assistance of Divine Providence, and with due regard for the views and feelings of all who were represented in the Convention, to the rights of all the States and Territories and people of the nation, to the inviolability of the Constitution, and the perpetual union of prosperity, and harmony of all, I am most happy to158 co-operate for the practical success of the principles declared by the convention. Your obliged friend and fellow-citizen,

    "A. Lincoln."

This letter was not shown to any one of Lincoln's friends, with the exception of Dr. Newton Bateman, State Superintendent of Education and an intimate friend, to whom Lincoln said,—

"Mr. School-master, here is my letter of acceptance. And I wouldn't like to have any mistakes in it. I am not very strong on grammar and I wish you would see if it is all right."

Mr. Bateman suggested one change, so that it would read "it shall be my care not to violate," instead of "it shall be my care to not violate."

"So you think I better put those two little fellows end to end, do you?" replied Lincoln, taking his pen and making the change suggested.

Lincoln's nomination made very little difference in his daily life. He turned his law practice over to his partner, employed John G. Nicolay, a clerk in the office of the Secretary of State, as his private secretary, was given the use of the Governor's room at the State-House for an office, and devoted his entire time to the reception of visitors and correspondence concerning the campaign. His door stood always open. There was not even an usher. Everybody came and went as freely as when he was a candidate for the Legislature or engaged in his practice. He was the same Abraham Lincoln he had always been, except a little more serious because of increasing responsibilities, and a little more dignified because he was sensible of the honor that had been conferred upon him; but his old friends detected no change in the man, and dropped in to exchange gossip whenever they came to town. Distinguished visitors came from a distance,—statesmen, politicians, wire-pullers, newspaper159 correspondents, men with great purposes and ambitions, adventurers, lion-hunters, and representatives of all classes and conditions, who usually seek the acquaintance of influential and prominent men and worship a rising sun. He told each a story and sent him away, pleased with his person and impressed with his character. His correspondence had increased enormously and every letter received a polite reply, but he maintained his policy of reticence and gave no indication of his plans or purposes.

One day, while a group of distinguished politicians from a distance were sitting in the Governor's room, chatting with Lincoln, the door opened and an old lady in a big sunbonnet and the garb of a farmer's wife came in.

"I wanted to give you something to take to Washington, Mr. Lincoln," she said, "and these are all I had. I spun the yarn and knit them socks myself." And with an air of pride she handed him a pair of blue woollen stockings.

Lincoln thanked her cordially for her thoughtfulness, inquired after the folks at home, and escorted her to the door as politely as if she had been Queen of England. Then, when he returned to the room, he picked up the socks, held them by the toes, one in each hand, and with a queer smile upon his face remarked to the statesmen around him,—

"The old lady got my latitude and longitude about right, didn't she?"

Such incidents occurred nearly every day and were a source of great pleasure to the President, who was never happier than when in the company of "the plain people," as he called them.

No one man of honest intentions visited him without feeling the better for it and being impressed with his ability, his courage, and his confidence. From the beginning he never doubted his own success. He realized that160 the Democratic party was hopelessly split and that, while the factions, if combined, might embrace a majority of the voters of the country, the Republicans would have a plurality, and his reasoning was so plausible that he convinced his visitors of the truth of his convictions. He never showed the slightest annoyance at the attacks that were continually made upon his reputation and record, and demonstrated his coolness, self-poise, and wisdom by declining to defend himself or offer explanations. His theory was expressed to a friend who wrote him with great concern about a charge that had been made against his integrity.

"I have made this explanation to you as a friend," he wrote, "but I wish no explanation made to our enemies. What they want is a squabble and a fuss, and that they can have if we explain, and they cannot have it if we don't."

The greater number of inquiries related to his position and intentions towards slavery, and to every one he gave a similar answer, that he had defined his position again and again in his speeches before his nomination, and "Those who will not read or heed what I have already publicly said would not read or heed a repetition of it. 'If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead.'"

He kept his finger upon the pulse of the country, and none of the managers of either party was so well informed as to the situation and sentiment in different sections as he. The Republican politicians soon discovered this fact and came to him more and more for advice and instruction. Even Thurlow Weed, who was supposed to be the shrewdest politician in the country, recognized a master and sought counsel from him regarding the management of the campaign in New York. Wherever he detected a weak spot, he sent a word of warning and advice: wherever there were local dissensions, he restored harmony with his tact and good-161nature. Thus was Lincoln the manager of his own campaign; more so, perhaps, than any man who was ever elected President. But at the same time he made one great mistake. He had heard the threat of secession so long that he had grown indifferent to it, and he told everybody that "The people of the South have too much sense to attempt the ruin of the government."

The election occurred on November 6, 1860, and the result was what he had expected since his nomination. The Republican electors did not receive a majority by nearly a million votes, but the division of the Democrats left them a plurality.

The city of Springfield had never cast so large a vote for any candidate for office up to that time, and it celebrated its triumph with a jubilee of rejoicing. The people called Lincoln from his house and demanded a speech, but he asked to be excused. He thanked them for their support and congratulations, and remarked, "In all our rejoicing let us neither express nor cherish any hard feeling towards any citizen who has differed from us. Let us at all times remember that all American citizens are brothers of a common country and should dwell together in the bonds of fraternal feeling."

After the excitement had quieted down, Lincoln resumed his former habits and daily routine. Springfield was crowded with politicians those days,—office-seekers and advisers, men who came to ask favors and to offer them. The announcement of his election had been the signal for the conspirators in the South to throw off their masks. During long years of controversy, the pro-slavery party had a hope of ultimate triumph, but until the actual election of Lincoln there was no actual treason or revolutionary act. Four days after the Senators from South Carolina resigned, six weeks later that State declared its separation from the union and organized an independent government, and, while he was still waiting at Springfield, Lincoln read the newspaper reports162 of conventions in all the Gulf States, at which they also declared their independence. But he was obliged to sit inactive and helpless; unable to do anything to check the dissolution of the union, although appeals came from every quarter. He described his situation to an old friend who came to see him at Springfield.

"Joe," he said, sadly, "I suppose you have forgotten the trial down in Montgomery County where your partner gave away your case in his opening speech. I saw you motioning to him and how uneasy you were, but you couldn't stop him, and that's just the way with Buchanan and me. He is giving away the case and I can't stop him."

It was not the Republicans of the North alone that appealed to Lincoln. unionists of the South came to him for pledges that he would do nothing, for assurances that there was nothing to fear from his election, and he went so far as to make an exception in their case to gratify them. In December he wrote a letter to Alexander H. Stephens, whom he had known and admired in Congress, marked "For your eye only," in which he stated his position in the most positive and unmistakable language, and asked, "Do the people of the South really entertain fears that a Republican administration would directly or indirectly interfere with the slaves? If they do, I wish to assure you as once a friend, and still, I hope, not an enemy, that there is no cause for such fears. The South would be in no more danger in this respect than it was in the days of Washington. I suppose, however, that this does not meet the case. You think slavery is right and ought to be extended, while we think it is wrong and ought to be restricted. That, I suppose, is the rub. It is certainly the only substantial difference between us."

General Duff Green came to Springfield in December, 1860, as an emissary from President Buchanan to invite the President-elect to Washington for a conference upon163 the situation, with the hope that his presence there might prevent civil war, and General Green was bold enough to tell him that, if he did not go, "upon his conscience must rest the blood that would be shed." Here Lincoln's political shrewdness and diplomacy were demonstrated in as conspicuous a manner, perhaps, as at any other crisis in his life. He detected at once the intention to unload upon him the responsibility for disunion and war, and met it with a counter-proposition which must have excited the admiration of the conspirators who were trying to entrap him. He received General Green with great courtesy, heard him with respectful attention, and gave him a letter in which he said that he did not desire any amendment to the Constitution, although he recognized the right of the American people to adopt one; that he believed in maintaining inviolate the rights of each State to control its own domestic institutions; and that he considered the lawless invasion by armed force of the soil of any State or Territory as the gravest of crimes. While those were his sentiments, and while they indicated the policy he should pursue as President, he would not consent to their publication unless the Senators from Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Florida, Louisiana, and Texas would sign a pledge which he had written below his signature to this letter and upon the same piece of paper. It was a pledge "to suspend all action for the dismemberment of the union until some act deemed to be violative of our rights shall be done by the incoming administration." Thus the responsibility was thrown back upon the representatives of the seceding States, and it is unnecessary to say that Duff Green's mission to Springfield was not considered a success by the rebel leaders. In order to protect himself, Lincoln sent a copy of his letter to Senator Trumbull, calling his attention to the fact that part of its text and all of its sentiment were copied from the Chicago platform.

164 By this time Lincoln had become thoroughly convinced that the Southern leaders were in earnest and that nothing could prevent the secession of their States, although he continued his efforts to reassure them and to apply every means his ingenuity could suggest to reconcile them to the situation. Notwithstanding all his anxiety, his sense of humor remained, and, as was his habit, he illustrated the situation with a story about a pious man named Brown who was on a committee to erect a bridge over a very dangerous river. They called in an engineer named Jones, who had great confidence in himself, and, after the difficulties had been explained, asked him whether he was able to build the bridge. Jones was a profane man, and replied that he would build a bridge to hell if he could get a contract, or words to that effect. The churchmen were horrified, and when the contractor retired, Brown attempted to allay their indignation by saying all the good things he could remember or invent about Jones. At the same time he was a very cautious man and would not commit himself to any doubtful proposition.

"I know Jones," he said, "and he is a man who will keep his promises. If he agrees to build a bridge to Hades he will do it, although I have my doubts about the 'butments on the infernal side."

The infinite patience exhibited by Lincoln during this period of anxious helplessness, amidst the clamors of office-seekers, the importunities of sincere but timid men who besought him to yield to the South and avoid trouble and bloodshed, the threats of his enemies, the intrigues of the politicians, the conspiracies of the disunionists, showed his strength of character and sense of discretion, and did much to establish him in the confidence of the public. He indulged neither in hope nor fear, he made no boasts, he showed no alarm, he answered neither yea nor nay, but maintained complete self-control and waited for his time to come. To intimate165 friends who possessed his confidence he never failed to assert his determination to maintain the union, no matter what it cost, and to resist to the end every proposition for dissolution or dismemberment, but his words were as gentle and as kindly as they were firm.

"The right of a State to secede is not an open or debatable question," he said. "That was fully discussed in Jackson's time and denied not only by him but by the vote of Congress. It is the duty of a President to execute the laws and maintain the existing government. He cannot entertain any proposition for dissolution or dismemberment. He was not elected for any such purpose. As a matter of theoretical speculation it is probably true that if the people, with whom the whole question rests, should become tired of the present government they might change it in the manner prescribed by the Constitution."

At the same time, without being dictatorial, he kept the Republican leaders inspired with his own confidence and determination and endeavored to prevent them from the mistake of yielding to compromise or making concessions. He wrote Representative Washburne with emphasis, "Prevent our friends from demoralizing themselves and their cause by entertaining propositions for compromise of any sort on slavery extensions. There is no possible compromise upon it but what puts us under again, and all our work to do over again. On that point hold firm as a chain of steel."

To Seward he wrote, "I say now, as I have all the while said, that on the question of extending slavery I am inflexible. I am for no compromise which assists or permits the extension of the institution on soil owned by the nation."

He knew what was going on under the direction of the disloyal members of Buchanan's Cabinet. He was aware that the Northern States were being stripped of arms and ammunition and that large quantities of military166 stores were being sent South where they could easily be seized when the time came. He knew also that disloyal officers of the army were being placed in command of the forts and military posts in the South, and other strategical points, and he asked Washburne to present his respects to General Scott, "and tell him confidentially that I should be obliged to him to be as well prepared as he can either to hold or retake the forts as the case may require after the inauguration."

Mr. Seward and other Republican leaders were apprehensive lest an attempt be made to prevent the counting of the electoral vote and the inauguration of Lincoln. The secessionists controlled both Houses and could have prevented constitutional proceeding if they had chosen to do so, but offered no interference. Mr. Seward always claimed—and he had an excessive degree of admiration for his own acts—that a speech which he made at the Astor House in January deceived the secession leaders into permitting the vote to be canvassed and Lincoln inaugurated. "When I made that speech the electoral vote was not counted," said Mr. Seward with pride, "and I knew it never would be if Jeff Davis believed there would be war. I had to deceive Davis and I did it. That's why I said it would all be settled in sixty days."

The will of the people to make Abraham Lincoln President was carried into effect upon February 13, 1861, when the Congress of the United States met in joint session and declared him duly elected.

Mr. Seward and other Republican leaders had urged Lincoln to come to Washington early in February, but the latter, with his usual judgment and common sense, declined to depart from ordinary usage, and politely explained his own feeling that he ought not to appear in Washington until he had been formally declared President. When that formality had been completed, he bade his old friends good-by and began a memorable journey,167 taking a circuitous route in order to gratify the people of the Northern States, who wished to see the President-elect, and gathered at every station through which he passed, hoping to hear his voice or catch a glimpse of his face. He made about thirty speeches on the journey, and every time he spoke it was to stimulate the patriotism and the determination of the people to preserve the union. The address delivered in Independence Hall, Philadelphia, was perhaps the most notable, as it was the longest, because he was deeply moved by the date and the place, for it was Washington's birthday. Among other things, he said,—

"All the political sentiments I entertain have been drawn, so far as I have been able to draw them, from the sentiments which originated in and were given to the world from this hall. I have never had a feeling, politically, that did not spring from the sentiments embodied in the Declaration of Independence. It was that which gave promise that in due time the weight would be lifted from the shoulders of all men and that all should have an equal chance. Now, my friends, can this country be saved on that basis? If it can, I will consider myself one of the happiest men in the world if I can help to save it. If it cannot be saved upon that principle, it will be truly awful. But if this country cannot be saved without giving up that principle, I was about to say I would rather be assassinated on this spot than surrender it. Now, in my view of the present aspect of affairs, there is no need of bloodshed and war. There is no necessity for it. I am not in favor of such a course; and I may say in advance that there will be no bloodshed unless it be forced upon the government. The government will not use force unless force is used against it.

"My friends, this is wholly an unprepared speech. I did not expect to be called upon to say a word when I came here. I supposed it was merely to do something towards raising a flag—I may, therefore, have said something168 indiscreet. [Cries of 'No! no!'] But I have said nothing but what I am willing to live by, and, if it be the pleasure of Almighty God, to die by."

The manner in which Lincoln came into Washington has been the subject of abundant discussion and criticism, but long ago the public mind settled down to a mature opinion that he did exactly right, and that a President-elect of the United States, particularly at such a critical juncture, should not take any risks or omit any precautions for his personal safety. Lincoln himself, long after, declared that he did not then and never did believe that he would have been assassinated, but always thought it wise to run no risk when no risk was necessary. Wisdom justifies such a rule, while the tragic experience of the American people has left no doubt of it. The facts were that an Italian barber named Ferrandini, an outspoken secessionist working at a Baltimore hotel, had submitted to an organization of Southern sympathizers a wild plan for intimidating the union people of Maryland and the North, which included the blowing up of all the bridges around Washington, the kidnapping of several prominent Republicans, and the assassination of Lincoln, General Scott, and Hamlin, the President and Vice-President elect. This would leave the capital open to the Southern leaders, throw the entire government into confusion, and prevent interference from the North with any revolutionary plans which Jefferson Davis might be contemplating.

Just how much encouragement Ferrandini received from the Southern sympathizers in Baltimore and Washington is not known, but he was the captain of a military company whose members were pledged to prevent the inauguration of Lincoln or any abolitionist President. When Allan Pinkerton learned of his suggestions, he reported the matter at once to Mr. Felton, President of the railroad that connected Baltimore with Philadelphia. Mr. Pinkerton's disclosures were confirmed by detectives169 employed by Governor Hicks, of Maryland, and the military authorities at Washington, although neither knew that the others were at work on the case. After consultation with his friends, Lincoln decided not to take any chances, and it was arranged that, after the ceremonies at Harrisburg were concluded, he should return to Philadelphia with a single companion and take the regular midnight train to Washington, leaving the rest of his party to continue in the special train according to the original itinerary. Lincoln wore no disguise, no deception was practised upon any one, and the only unusual occurrence that night was the disconnection of the telegraph wires just outside of Philadelphia and Harrisburg, so that, in case the change of plan was discovered, the news could not reach Baltimore until Lincoln had passed through that city. Mr. Seward and Mr. Washburne were the only persons to meet the President-elect at the station, and they had been advised of his coming only a few hours before by Mr. Seward's son, who had come by a previous train from Harrisburg.

The week before the inauguration was a busy one for the President-elect. A great deal of his time was occupied by visits of ceremony and consultations with Republican leaders about the composition of his Cabinet, the terms of his inaugural, and the policy to be pursued by the new administration. March 4 Mr. Buchanan escorted him from the Executive Mansion to the Capitol, where the oath was administered to him by Chief-Justice Taney, and, standing upon a platform at the east portico of the unfinished Capitol, he was introduced to the multitude by his old friend, Edward D. Baker, while Stephen A. Douglas, his opponent for the Presidency, stood at his left hand and held his hat. The public curiosity to see the President-elect reached its climax as he made his appearance. All sorts of stories had been told and believed about his personal appearance. His character had been grossly misrepresented and maligned170 in both sections of the union, and the hysterical condition of the country naturally whetted the appetite of men of all parties to see and hear the man who was now the central figure of the republic. The tone of moderation, tenderness, and good-will which breathed through his inaugural speech made a profound impression in his favor, while his voice rang out over the acres of people before him with surprising distinctness, and was heard in the remotest parts of his audience.

No inaugural address before or since has been awaited with so much anxiety and interest. It was expected that in this, his first official utterance, the new President would outline the policy of his administration and determine whether the country should have war or peace. Thousands of men were eager for an intimation of what he intended to say, and an accurate forecast was worth millions of dollars to the stock market; but not a word nor a thought leaked out. The document was written with Lincoln's own hand upon the backs of envelopes and other scraps of paper from time to time as ideas suggested themselves and he determined what to say, and finally, as the time of his departure from Springfield approached, he put them together in a little bare room in a business block over the store of his brother-in-law, where he was accustomed to retire when he wanted to be alone or had to do writing of importance. Only two persons knew of this retreat.

When the manuscript was finished it was intrusted to Mr. William H. Bailhache, editor of the Illinois State Journal, who put it in type himself, assisted by a veteran compositor, also an old friend of Lincoln. After taking a dozen proof-slips, the type was distributed. Judge David Davis and one or two other friends read it in Springfield. Orville H. Browning read it on the journey to Washington, and upon the morning of his arrival at the capital, a copy was handed to Mr. Seward, who spent an entire Sunday revising it. His amendments171 and suggestions were almost as voluminous as the original document. Lincoln adopted either in whole or in part nearly all of them, except where they affected the style or changed the policy indicated. The most important changes made were to modify the declaration of his intentions to recover and hold the fortifications and property which had been seized by the secessionists and to speak of the exercise of power in that direction with some ambiguity and a hint at forbearance.

During all his life at the White House Lincoln took an active part in political affairs. He never forgot that he was the President of the whole country; but at the same time he considered it necessary to its salvation to establish the Republican party upon a firm and permanent basis, and for that purpose a more complete and thorough organization was necessary. He knew the value of an organization of trained politicians and of political discipline as well as any man in public life. He was thoroughly a practical politician and as skilful in execution as he was in planning. He knew how to manipulate men and direct movements as well as Thurlow Weed, and no man in the Cabinet or in either House of Congress was more adroit in accomplishing his purposes. He never failed to carry through Congress any measure that he considered important; he never failed to obtain the confirmation of a nominee. He used the patronage of his office to strengthen the Republican party because he believed it essential to the salvation of his country. He possessed a political tact so subtle and masterful that it enabled him to reconcile rivalries and enemies, to unite conflicting purposes, and to bring to his support men of implacable hostility, who never realized his purpose until his object was accomplished, and then it was such as they almost invariably approved. He was candid when candor was necessary, he was mysterious when he believed it wise to excite curiosity, and he was determined and often arbitrary with men172 whom he thought would be most impressed that way. His greatest quality, the most valuable talent he possessed, was his ability to fathom the human heart, to understand its weakness and its strength, so that he could measure the influence that must be exerted and the methods by which it could be induced to assist him in his direction of affairs.

His lowly birth and early experience were of great advantage to him in understanding human nature, and he looked to the great masses of "the plain people" as well as to the Almighty for guidance, and had full faith in their honesty and capacity. Before he acted upon any important question he felt the public pulse, and when he thought the people were ready he acted, and not before. While he was a great leader, a shrewd and deep manipulator of public opinion, he often said, in his quaint way, that it was possible to fool a part of the people all the time, and all of the people part of the time; but no man could fool all the people all the time. With his great common sense, he endeavored to discover what was in the public mind and how the public conscience would regard certain measures proposed, and waited for it to point out his path of duty. The atmosphere of Washington never affected him; he was self-contained and indifferent to social and other influences that usually exercise much force upon public men.

His sympathies were tender, and his desire to contribute to the happiness of every one made it difficult for him to say "No;" but this, his greatest weakness, was never shown in the direction of the military or political policy of the government. On the contrary, the man who would violate the laws of war and imperil the discipline of an army by pardoning a deserter or commuting the sentence of some poor wretch who was sentenced to be shot would not permit delegations of United States Senators to move him one atom from what he deemed best to be done. He carried this principle173 into his appointments to office also. During the Presidential canvass of 1864, when a quarrel between the Weed and Fenton factions of the Republican party endangered the ticket in New York, Lincoln sent for the Senator. What occurred we do not know; but Mr. Fenton started immediately for New York with Mr. Nicolay, and the latter returned to Washington with the resignation of Rufus F. Andrews, a friend of Mr. Fenton, who had been surveyor of the port, and Abram Wakeman, Mr. Weed's choice for the office, was appointed at once. From that time forward Mr. Weed was earnest in his support of the Republican ticket. Senator Fenton, in his reminiscences, says, "The small majority in New York in November, less than 7000 for the Republican ticket, served to illustrate Mr. Lincoln's political sagacity and tact. He was always a politician as well as a statesman, and but for his intervention at that time the electoral vote of New York might have been cast for the Democratic candidate, and no one dare measure the effect of such an event upon the war."

President Lincoln never hesitated to use the patronage of the government for political purposes. He held that the government of the United States is a political organization, and that the political opinions of those intrusted with its administration in those critical days were of as much consequence as their integrity or intelligence. As a consequence, he made his appointments first from among those whom he believed would give him the most efficient support in his efforts to save the union, and second to those who believed in the principles and the measures of the party with which he was identified. He would have rejected with scorn the demands of the civil service reformers of the present day. Public opinion was not then educated up to the existing standard of political morality. At the same time, his keen sense of justice required him to recognize and reward merit and efficiency even among his political opponents.

174 He had a sly way of stating his intentions, and he often expressed great truths in an odd way. Soon after his arrival in Washington the Massachusetts delegation in the Peace Congress called upon him to recommend Salmon P. Chase for Secretary of the Treasury. Lincoln heard them respectfully, and then, with a twinkle in his eye, remarked,—

"Gentlemen, of course, you would not expect me to tell you who is going to be in the Cabinet; but, from what I hear, I think Mr. Chase's chances are about one hundred and fifty for any other man's hundred for that place."

One day, at Cabinet meeting, Mr. Chase was reproaching himself for failing to write a letter that he had intended to send that day, when Lincoln observed,—

"Never be sorry for what you don't write; it is the things you do write that you are usually sorry for."

The President enforced political discipline among the subordinates of the government. Representative George W. Julian, of Indiana, relates this incident:

"After my nomination for re-election in the year 1864, Mr. Holloway, who was holding the position of Commissioner of Patents, and was one of the editors of a Republican newspaper in my district, refused to recognize me as the party candidate, and kept the name of my defeated competitor standing in his paper. It threatened discord and mischief, and I went to the President with these facts, and on the strength of them asked for Mr. Holloway's removal from office.

"'Your nomination,' said Mr. Lincoln, 'is as binding on Republicans as mine, and you can rest assured that Mr. Holloway shall support you, openly and unconditionally, or lose his head.'

"This was entirely satisfactory; but after waiting a week or two for the announcement of my name, I returned to the President with the information that Mr. Holloway was still keeping up his fight, and that175 I had come to ask of him decisive measures. I saw in an instant that his ire was roused. He rang the bell for his messenger, and said to him in a very excited and emphatic way,—

"'Tell Mr. Holloway to come to me!'

"The messenger hesitated, looking somewhat surprised and bewildered, when Mr. Lincoln said in a tone still more emphatic,—

"'Tell Mr. Holloway to come to me!'

"It was perfectly evident that the business would now be attended to, and in a few days my name was duly announced and the work of party insubordination ceased."

The late Chief-Justice Cartter, of the District of Columbia, once called upon Lincoln with a party of politicians to secure the appointment of a gentleman who was opposed by the Senators from his State. Lincoln suggested that they ought to get the Senators on their side. They replied that, owing to local complications, such a thing was impossible. Lincoln retorted that nothing was impossible in politics; that the peculiarities of the Senator referred to were well known, and that by the use of a little tact and diplomacy he might be brought around, in which case there would be no doubt about the appointment. To clinch his argument Lincoln told a story of James Quarles, a distinguished lawyer of Tennessee. Quarles, he said, was trying a case, and after producing his evidence rested; whereupon the defence produced a witness who swore Quarles completely out of court, and a verdict was rendered accordingly. After the trial one of his friends came to him and said,—

"Why didn't you get that feller to swar on your side?"

"I didn't know anything about him," replied Quarles. "I might have told you about him," said the friend, "for he would swar for you jest as hard as he'd swar176 for the other side. That's his business. Judge, that feller takes in swarrin' for a living."

Representative John B. Alley, of Massachusetts, who was himself famous as a politician, said, "Mr. Lincoln was a thorough and most adroit politician as well as statesman, and in politics always adopted the means to the end, fully believing that in vital issues 'success was a duty.' In illustration of this feeling and sentiment, I need only refer to his action and conduct in procuring the passage of the constitutional amendment abolishing slavery. It required a two-thirds vote of Congress to enable the amendments to the Constitution to be sent to the Legislatures for ratification, and there were two votes lacking to make two-thirds, which Lincoln said 'must be procured.' Two members of the House were sent for and Lincoln said that those two votes must be procured. When asked 'How?' he remarked,—

"'I am President of the United States, clothed with great power. The abolition of slavery by constitutional provision settles the fate, for all coming time, not only of the millions now in bondage, but of unborn millions to come—a measure of such importance that those two votes must be procured. I leave it to you to determine how it shall be done; but remember that I am President of the United States, clothed with immense power, and I expect you to procure those votes.'"

These gentlemen understood the significance of the remark. The votes were procured, the constitutional amendment was passed, and slavery was abolished forever.

"Senator Sumner and myself," continued Mr. Alley, "called upon him one morning to urge the appointment of a Massachusetts man to be a secretary of legation, chiefly upon the ground of his superior qualifications. But Mr. Lincoln said, emphatically, 'No;' that he should give the place to an applicant from another State who was backed by strong influence, although he177 acknowledged that he did not think him fit for the position.

"We were naturally indignant, and wished to know if one of acknowledged fitness was to be rejected because he was a Massachusetts man, and one whom he was willing to say was not fit was to be appointed. 'Yes,' said the President, 'that is just the reason,' and facetiously added, 'I suppose you two Massachusetts gentlemen think that your State could furnish suitable men for every diplomatic and consulate station the government has to fill.' We replied that we thought it could. He appeased our displeasure by saying he thought so too, and that he considered Massachusetts the banner State of the union, and admired its institutions and people so much that he sent his 'Bob,' meaning his son Robert, to Harvard for an education."

The Presidential campaign of 1864 was fought on one issue only, and that was the success of the war, although Lincoln, in his annual message to Congress in the December following, declared that "No candidate for any office whatever, high or low, has ventured to seek votes on the avowal that he was for giving up the union." Nevertheless, the Democrats nominated McClellan and attempted to discredit the patriotism and the ability of Lincoln. Similar attempts were made in his own party by the radical antislavery element and the friends of Secretary Chase and numerous disappointed contractors and politicians, but they made hardly a ripple upon the great current of public opinion which swept on irresistible to the Convention. Lincoln did nothing to promote his candidacy, but made no secret of his desire for a re-election, and himself suggested the most effective argument in his own support when he recalled the homely proverb of his youth that "It is bad policy to swap horses while crossing a stream." He placed no obstacles in the way of Mr. Chase, and when warned that General Grant might aspire to the Presidency, replied,178 "If he takes Richmond, let him have it." He admonished the officials of the administration against too much activity and rebuked them for opposing his enemies. He made no speeches of importance during the campaign, but on several occasions addressed delegations which visited Washington, appeared at sanitary fairs for the benefit of sick soldiers, responded to serenades, and whenever custom or courtesy required him to appear in public he did so without reference to political results.

In August, 1864, the political horizon was very dark, and the President himself, who was always the most hopeful and confident of men, almost entirely lost heart. Having convinced himself that the campaign was going against him, he deliberately laid down a line of duty for himself, and at the Cabinet meeting on August 23 he requested each one of his ministers to write their names upon a folded sheet of paper in such a way that the seal could not be broken without mutilating their autographs. He made no explanation of its contents or of his reason for desiring them to attest it, but after the election it was disclosed that the mysterious paper contained a pledge from himself and his administration loyally to accept any verdict which the people of the country might pronounce upon their efforts to save the union, and to continue their labors with zealous loyalty until relieved by their successors. The pledge closed as follows:

"This morning, as for some days past, it seems exceedingly probable that this administration will not be re-elected. Then it will be my duty to so co-operate with the President-elect as to save the union between the election and the inauguration, as he will have secured the election on such ground that he cannot possibly save it afterwards."