Part 23 (1/2)

Lincoln recognized these complications from the outset, warning Weed in August that ”there will be the most extraordinary effort ever made, to carry New-York for Douglas.” He feared that Douglas was ”managing the Bell-element with great adroitness,” and might well obtain a fusion of the two forces, thereby keeping the state from the Republicans. Less worried than Lincoln, Weed nonetheless left nothing to chance. He wrote to Seward in late October from the Astor House in New York City: ”Can you afford to make a soothing speech in this city?...A speech in the spirit that you delivered last in the Senate, showing that it is the business of Republicans and the mission of the Republican Party to preserve the Union...that there is not an aggressive Plank in the Republican Platform.... I think it would finish the work.” Seward agreed to come to New York at once. His speech, even in this Democratic stronghold, was punctuated by wild applause, and when he finished, ”the whole audience broke forth into the most tumultuous cheering.”

ON ELECTION DAY, November 6, 1860, the citizens of Springfield were awakened at sunrise by cannonade and rousing band music ”to stir whatever sluggish spirits there might be among the populace.” Lincoln spent the morning in his quarters at the State House, receiving and entertaining visitors. Samuel Weed of the New York Times long remembered the atmosphere in the room that morning. Lincoln ”was chatting with three or four friends as calmly and as amiably as if he had started on a picnic.” Tipping his armchair backward to prop his long legs atop the woodstove, he made such detailed inquiry into all the local races that ”one would have concluded that the District Attorneys.h.i.+p of a county of Illinois was of far more importance than the Presidency.”

Lincoln had originally declined to vote himself, believing that ”the candidate for a Presidential office ought not to vote for his own electors,” but Herndon insisted that if he cut off the presidential electors at the top, he could still vote for all the state and local offices. Warming to the idea, Lincoln headed over at about three o'clock to the polling place at the courthouse. His appearance drew a large crowd, ”who welcomed him with immense cheering, and followed him in dense numbers along the hall and up stairs into the Court room,” where he was hailed with another wild ”burst of enthusiasm.”

At five, he headed home to have supper with Mary and the boys, returning to the State House at seven, accompanied by Judge Davis and a few friends. An immense crowd followed him into the Capitol, leading one supporter to suggest that he ask everyone but his closest friends to withdraw. ”He said he had never done such a thing in his life, and wouldn't commence now.” When the polls had closed, the first dispatches began to filter into the telegraph office. A correspondent from the Missouri Democrat noted that throughout the evening, ”Lincoln was calm and collected as ever in his life, but there was a nervous twitch on his countenance when the messenger from the telegraphic offices entered that revealed an anxiety within that no coolness from without could repress.” The first dispatch, indicating a strong Republican win in Decatur, Illinois, was ”borne into the a.s.sembly hall as a trophy of victory, to be read to the crowd,” who responded with great shouts of joy. Though the early returns were incomplete, it was observed that Lincoln ”seemed to understand their bearing on the general result in the State and commented upon every return by way of comparison with previous elections.”

By nine o'clock, as tallies were relayed from distant states, Lincoln, Davis, and a few friends gathered at the telegraph office for immediate access to the returns. While Lincoln reclined on a sofa, the telegraph tapped out good news all around. New England, the Northwest, Indiana, and Pennsylvania had all come into the Republican camp. When ten o'clock arrived, however, with no word from New York, Lincoln grew fretful. ”The news would come quick enough if it was good,” he told his cohorts that ”and if bad, he was not in any hurry to hear it.”

Finally, at 11:30, a message came from New York. ”We have made steady gains everywhere throughout the State, but the city returns are not sufficiently forward to make us sure of the result, although we are quite sanguine a great victory has been won.” The dispatch produced tremendous cheers. Minutes later, Lyman Trumbull came running into the room: ”Uncle Abe, you're the next President, and I know it.” Lincoln was still uncertain, for if the Democrats piled up huge majorities in New York City, the Republican votes in the rest of the state could be offset. ”Not too fast, my friends,” he said. ”Not too fast, it may not be over yet.”

At midnight, Lincoln attended a ”victory” supper prepared by the Republican ladies. While everyone else was in high spirits, a.s.sured of victory, Lincoln remained anxious about New York. Too often in the past his dreams had collapsed at the last moment. Without New York's 35 electoral votes, his total of 145 electoral votes would be 7 short of a majority.

Lincoln's concerns proved groundless, for Thurlow Weed's unparalleled organization had been at work since dawn, rounding up Republican voters in every precinct. ”Don't wait until the last hour,” Weed had instructed his workers. ”Consider every man a 'delinquent' who doesn't vote before 10 o'clock.” He left his organization plenty of time to prod, push, and, if necessary, carry voters to the polls.

Soon after midnight, the returns from New York and Brooklyn came in, revealing that Democratic control of New York City was not enough to counter the Republican vote throughout the state. Celebrations could begin in earnest, for Lincoln's victory was accomplished.

Church bells began to ring. Cheers for ”Old Abe” resounded through the streets. Lincoln was jubilant, admitting that he was ”a very happy man...who could help being so under such circ.u.mstances?” Pocketing the final dispatch, he headed home to tell Mary, who had been waiting anxiously all day. ”Mary, Mary,” he cried out, ”we are elected!”

CHAPTER 10

”AN INTENSIFIED CROSSWORD PUZZLE”

BY THE TIME LINCOLN got to bed, it was two o'clock. He was exhausted but could not sleep. ”The excitement which had kept him up through the campaign had pa.s.sed away,” he later recalled to Gideon Welles, ”and he was oppressed with the load of responsibility that was upon him.” Outside his windows, he could hear the citizens of Springfield partying in the streets, laughing, singing, and marching until they could carry on no longer. With the arrival of dawn, they finally dispersed to their homes.

Undoubtedly, Lincoln shared the elation of his neighbors. From his earliest days in politics, he had craved the opportunity to accomplish important deeds that would benefit his fellows. In modern parlance, he wanted to make a difference and now he had the opportunity to do so. Yet, keenly aware of both the fractious nature of the youthful Republican Party and the ominous threats from the South, he understood that his country was entering a most perilous time.

”I began at once to feel that I needed support,” he noted later; ”others to share with me the burden.” As the exhausted townsfolk shuffled back to their homes and the city sank ”into its usual quietness,” Lincoln began to compose his official family-the core of his administration. ”This was on Wednesday morning,” he revealed, ”and before the sun went down, I had made up my Cabinet. It was almost the same as I finally selected.”

On a blank card he wrote the names of the seven men he wanted. At the center of his list stood his chief rivals for the nomination-Seward, Chase, and Bates. The list also included Montgomery Blair, Gideon Welles, and Norman Judd, all former Democrats, as well as William Dayton of New Jersey, a former Whig. While several months would pa.s.s before the cabinet was a.s.sembled, subjecting Lincoln to intense pressures from all sides, he resolved that day to surround himself with the strongest men from every faction of the new Republican Party-former Whigs, Free-Soilers, and antislavery Democrats.

The stillness of this first day that allowed Lincoln to contemplate the formulation of his ideal cabinet proved to be the calm before the storm. Soon, ”the mad scramble” for the lesser positions began. With letters of recommendation stuffed in their pockets and fervent hopes in their hearts, hordes of office seekers descended on Springfield. Some arrived with ”muddy boots and hickory s.h.i.+rts,” while others were dressed in their finest linen and woolens. All were graciously welcomed by Lincoln.

He decided to hold two receptions a day, the first in the morning, the second in the late afternoon. The receptions were held in the Governor's Room in the State House, a chamber far too small for the constant crush of visitors pus.h.i.+ng their way through the narrow doorway, guided by Lincoln's ”clear voice and often ringing laughter.” New York Tribune correspondent Henry Villard, although initially skeptical of Lincoln's qualifications to be president, observed that the president-elect ”showed remarkable tact” with every caller. Listening patiently to each applicant, Lincoln revealed a quick-witted ”adaptation to individual characteristics and peculiarities. He never evaded a proper question, or failed to give a fit answer.” What most impressed Villard was Lincoln's remarkable ability to tell a humorous story or deliver an appropriate anecdote ”to explain a meaning or enforce a point, the aptness of which was always perfect.”

While the opposition papers derided Lincoln's penchant for telling stories, imagining that he babbled on from the moment he awakened-at mealtimes, on the street, in his office, in stores, even in his sleep (with Mary beside him in her nightcap)-the perceptive Villard understood that the president-elect's perpetual supply of stories ”helped many times to heal wounded feelings and mitigate disappointments.” Everyone Lincoln dealt with, Villard concluded, agreed that ”he is the very embodiment of good temper and affability. They will all concede that he has a kind word, an encouraging smile, a humorous remark for nearly everyone that seeks his presence, and that but few, if any, emerge from his reception room without being strongly and favorably impressed with his general disposition.”

At this juncture, Lincoln was sorely in need of a second a.s.sistant. Nicolay recommended twenty-two-year-old John Hay, the young journalist and Brown University graduate who had become actively involved in the campaign and had written pro-Lincoln columns for the Missouri Democrat. Nicolay had originally met Hay in private school. When Nicolay asked his boyhood friend to help with the overflowing correspondence, the gregarious young man was delighted. Though Hay was preparing for the bar in the Springfield office of his uncle Milton Hay, he was pa.s.sionate about literature. On Cla.s.s Day at Brown, he had delivered a poem that was remembered for years afterward. He had hoped quixotically to make his living as a poet upon graduation, but had reluctantly settled for a career in law. He leaped at the chance to work in the White House.

For Mary, Willie, and Tad, it was an exciting time. At night, after the formal receptions were over, visitors, sketch artists, and friends flocked to their home. Mary flourished in her role as hostess, while the boys regaled visitors with laughter and stories of their own. The ardent political conversations of celebrated men surely reminded Mary of childhood evenings when her father entertained congressmen and senators, including Henry Clay, in the parlor of his Kentucky mansion. To be sure, there were unpleasant moments, as when mud was tracked into the house, or when callers would point to Mary and boisterously ask: ”Is that the old woman?” But Mary seemed to take it all in stride. Her delight in victory overshadowed such small aggravations.

Even as the Lincolns entertained their colorful parade of callers, the president-elect never lost sight of the intricate task he faced in building a cabinet that would preserve the integrity of the Republican Party in the North, while providing the fairest possible representation from the South. To help with his deliberations, he asked Hannibal Hamlin, his vice presidentelect, to meet him in Chicago. Once the arrangements were made, he invited his old friend Joshua Speed to join him, and suggested that he bring his wife, f.a.n.n.y, to keep Mary company. Traveling by train with a small party of journalists and friends, the Lincolns took up quarters at the Tremont House, which had lodged Davis and Swett six months earlier when they managed the unexpected nomination.

Although Hamlin had been a senator when Lincoln was in the House, this was the first time they would meet. Hamlin recalled listening to a speech Lincoln delivered that ”was so full of good humor and sharp points” that the entire chamber ”was convulsed with laughter.” Born in Maine the same year as Lincoln, Hamlin was a tall, powerfully built man with a swarthy complexion. He had entered politics as a Jacksonian Democrat at a young age, serving first in the Maine state legislature, then in the U.S. House of Representatives, and finally in the Senate.

The two men began their discussions in Lincoln's room in the Tremont House, but news of their meeting soon brought ”a great throng of visitors,” necessitating a public reception and a round of dinners. The following day, however, their dialogue resumed privately at a friend's house, where Lincoln made clear his determination to create ”a compact body” by drawing his former rivals into ”his official household.” Hamlin apparently agreed with this notion, and the conversation turned to selecting a representative from New England. Lincoln's original choice, Gideon Welles, was mentioned, along with Nathaniel Banks and Charles Francis Adams, Jr. Hamlin objected to Banks but agreed to look into the availability and feasibility of both Adams and Welles.

Amid the flood of political aspirants and tactical discussions, Lincoln must have coveted his time with Speed. He arranged for f.a.n.n.y to visit with Mary so that he might speak with his old friend in private. Speed later recalled that Lincoln ”threw himself on the bed” and said: ”Speed what are your pecuniary Conditions-are you rich, or poor.” Understanding the import of the question, Speed replied: ”I think I know what you wish. I'll Speak Candidly to you-My pecuniary Conditions are good-I do not think you have any office within your gift that I can afford to take.” Though Speed's resolve never wavered, the two friends would maintain contact during the war, and Speed would play an important role in keeping Kentucky in the Union.