Part 25 (1/2)

CHAPTER XXVII

Lincoln's Second Presidential Term--His Att.i.tude toward it--Rival Candidates for the Nomination--Chase's Achillean Wrath--Harmony Restored--The Baltimore Convention--Decision ”not to Swap Horses while Crossing a Stream”--The Summer of 1864--Was.h.i.+ngton again Threatened--Lincoln under Fire--Unpopular Measures--The President's Perplexities and Trials--The Famous Letter ”To Whom It May Concern”--Little Expectation of Re-election--Dangers of a.s.sa.s.sination--”A Thrilling Experience”--Lincoln's Forced Serenity--”The Saddest Man in the World”--A Break in the Clouds--Lincoln Vindicated by Re-election--Cheered and Rea.s.sured--More Trouble with Chase--Lincoln's Final Disposal of him--The President's Fourth Annual Message--His Position toward the Rebellion and Slavery Reaffirmed--Colored Folks' Reception at the White House--Pa.s.sage of the Amendment Prohibiting Slavery--Lincoln and the Southern Peace Commissioners--The Meeting in Hampton Roads--Lincoln's Impression of A H. Stephens--The Second Inauguration--Second Inaugural Address--”With Malice toward None, with Charity for All”--An Auspicious Omen.

The year 1864 witnessed another Presidential election, and one which was attended by the most novel and extraordinary circ.u.mstances. It was held while a considerable portion of the people were engaged in armed rebellion against the authority of the National Government; and it was not partic.i.p.ated in by the voters of several entire States. Aside from these unique features, it marked a most critical epoch in the history of the country, and in that of Abraham Lincoln as well. The policy and acts of the administration, even the question of the further prosecution of the war, were to be submitted to the sovereign tribunal of the people; and with their verdict would be recorded also the popular measure of approval or disapproval of President Lincoln. Those who knew him best during his first official term p.r.o.nounce him singularly free from plans and calculations regarding his own political future. He was too absorbed in public cares and duties, too nearly crushed by the great burdens resting upon him, to give thought or attention to questions of personal ambition. It had never been his aim, during his Presidential life, to look far ahead. He was content to deal wisely and soberly with important questions as they arose from day to day and hour to hour; to adapt himself and his actions to the exigencies of the present, and in that way to earn security for the future. He himself said, using a forcible and apt ill.u.s.tration borrowed from his early life: ”The pilots on our Western rivers steer from _point to point_, as they call it--setting the course of the boat no farther than they can see; and that is all I propose to do in the great problems that are set before me.”

Such a policy as that outlined by Lincoln, embraced in his homely and characteristic phrase of ”pegging away,” caused him to be greatly misunderstood and even distrusted in some quarters. As the time for the new election drew near, there was very p.r.o.nounced dissatisfaction with him, particularly in New England. It was said of him, among other things, that he ”lacked the essential qualities of a leader.” Mr. Henry Greenleaf Pearson, the biographer of Governor Andrew of Ma.s.sachusetts, illuminates this point in a few instructive sentences. ”To comprehend this objection, which to us seems so astonis.h.i.+ngly wide of the mark,”

says Mr. Pearson, ”we must realize that whenever a New Englander of that generation uttered the word 'leader' his mind's eye was filled with the image of Daniel Webster. Even those who called the fallen statesman 'Ichabod' could not forget his commanding presence, his lofty tone about affairs of state, his sonorous professions of an ideal, his whole _ex cathedra_ att.i.tude. All these characteristics supplied the aristocratic connotation of the word 'leader.' Of the broad democratic meaning of the term, the world had as yet received no demonstration. That Lincoln was in very truth the 'new birth of a new soil,' Lowell, with the advantage of literary detachment, was one of the first to discover and proclaim, both in his political essays and in the splendid stanzas of the 'Commemoration Ode.'”

While Lincoln seemingly gave little heed to the question of a second Presidential term, it must not be inferred that he was indifferent regarding it. His nature was one of those strong ones which, though desiring approbation, are yet able to live without it. His whole life had been a schooling in self-reliance and independence, and the last three years especially had rendered him an adept in that stern philosophy. But he was thoroughly human, and deep down in his nature was a craving for human sympathy and support. Knowing that he had done his best and was ent.i.tled to the full approval of his countrymen, he no doubt felt that it would be a pleasant thing to receive that approval by being called to serve them for another term. To one friend he remarked, using his old figure of ”the people's attorney,” ”If the people think I have managed their case for them well enough to trust me to _carry it up to the next term_, I am sure I shall be glad to take it.” He evidently dreaded the rebuke that would be implied in a failure to be renominated; yet it seemed unbecoming to him, in the critical condition of the country, to make any personal effort to that end. To these considerations were added his extreme weariness and longing for release from his oppressive burdens. He was also, as Mr. Welles records in his Diary, ”greatly importuned and pressed by cunning intrigues.”

From these various complications, Lincoln's embarra.s.sment and perplexity as the time for holding the Republican Convention drew near were extreme. A journalistic friend (Mr. J.M. Winch.e.l.l), who had a lengthy conversation with him on the subject, gives what is no doubt a correct idea of his state of mind at that period. ”Mr. Lincoln received me,” says Mr. Winch.e.l.l, ”kindly and courteously; but his manner was quite changed. It was not now the country about which his anxiety prevailed, but himself. There was an embarra.s.sment about him which he could not quite conceal. I thought it proper to state in the outset that I wished simply to know whatever he was free to tell me in regard to his own willingness or unwillingness to accept a renomination. The reply was a monologue of an hour's duration, and one that wholly absorbed me, as it seemed to absorb himself. He remained seated nearly all the time. He was restless, often changing position, and occasionally, in some intense moment, wheeling his body around in his chair and throwing a leg over the arm. This was the only grotesque thing I recollect about him; his voice and manner were very earnest, and he uttered no jokes and told no anecdotes. He began by saying that as yet he was not a candidate for renomination. He distinctly denied that he was a party to any effort to that end, notwithstanding I knew that there were movements in his favor in all parts of the Northern States. These movements were, of course, without his prompting, as he positively a.s.sured me that with one or two exceptions he had scarcely conversed on the subject with his most intimate friends. He was not quite sure whether he desired a renomination. Such had been the responsibility of the office--so oppressive had he found its cares, so terrible its perplexities--that he felt as though the moment when he could relinquish the burden and retire to private life would be the sweetest he could possibly experience. But, he said, he would not deny that a re-election would also have its gratification to his feelings. He did not seek it, nor would he do so; he did not desire it for any ambitious or selfish purpose; but after the crisis the country was pa.s.sing through under his Presidency, and the efforts he had made conscientiously to discharge the duties imposed upon him, it would be a very sweet satisfaction to him to know that he had secured the approval of his fellow citizens and earned the highest testimonial of confidence they could bestow. This was the gist of the hour's monologue; and I believe he spoke sincerely. His voice, his manner, gave his modest and sensible words a power of conviction. He seldom looked me in the face while he was talking; he seemed almost to be gazing into the future. I am sure it was not a pleasant thing for him to seem to be speaking in his own behalf. For himself, he affirmed that he should make no promises of office to anyone as an inducement for support. If nominated and elected, he should be grateful to his friends; but the interests of the country must always be first considered.”

The princ.i.p.al candidates talked of as successors to Lincoln were Secretary Chase, General Fremont, and General Grant. Of the latter, Lincoln said, with characteristic frankness and generosity: ”If he could be more useful as President in putting down the rebellion, I would be content. He is pledged to our policy of emanc.i.p.ation and the employment of negro soldiers; and if this policy is carried out, it will not make much difference who is President.” But General Grant's good sense prevailed over his injudicious advisers, and he promptly refused to allow his name to be presented to the convention.

The most formidable candidate for the Republican nomination was Secretary Chase. The relations between him and the President had not latterly been very harmonious; and the breach was greatly widened by a bitter personal a.s.sault on Mr. Chase by General F.P. Blair, a newly elected Congressman from Missouri, made on the floor of the House, about the middle of April, under circ.u.mstances which led Mr. Chase to believe that the President inspired, or at least approved, the attack. Mr. Chase was very angry, and an open rupture between his friends and those of the President was narrowly averted. Mr. Riddle, Congressman from Mr. Chase's State (Ohio), relates that on the evening after General Blair's offensive speech he was to accompany Mr. Chase on a visit to Baltimore.

”I was shown,” says Mr. Riddle, ”to the Secretary's private car, where I found him alone and in a frenzy of rage. A copy of Blair's speech had been shown him at the station, and I was the sole witness of his Achillean wrath. He threatened to leave the train at once and send the President his resignation; but was persuaded to go on to Baltimore. He wished to forward his resignation from there, but concluded to withhold it till his return to Was.h.i.+ngton the next day. At Baltimore,” continues Mr. Riddle, ”I excused myself, and took the return train for Was.h.i.+ngton.

I did not overestimate the danger to the Union cause. It would be a fatal error to defeat Mr. Lincoln at the Baltimore Convention; yet how could he succeed, with the angry resignation of Mr. Chase, and the defection of his friends--the powerful and aggressive radicals? Reaching Was.h.i.+ngton, I went to the White House direct. I knew the President could not have been a party to Blair's a.s.sault, and I wanted his personal a.s.surances to communicate to Mr. Chase at the earliest moment. I was accompanied by Judge Spaulding, an eminent member of the House, fully sharing Mr. Chase's confidence, and somewhat cool toward the President.

We found Mr. Lincoln drawn up behind his table, with papers before him, quite grim, evidently prepared for the battle which he supposed awaited him. Without taking a seat, hat in hand, I stated frankly, not without emotion, the condition of affairs,--the public danger, my entire confidence in him, my sole purpose there, the reason of Judge Spaulding's presence, and that we were there in no way as representatives of Mr. Chase. Mr. Lincoln was visibly affected. The tones of confidence, sympathy, personal regard, were strangers to him at that time. Softening, almost melting, he came round to us, shook our hands again and again, returned to his place, and standing there, took up and opened out, from their remote origin, the whole web of matters connected with the present complication. He spoke an hour--calm, clear, direct, simple. He reprehended Blair severely, and stated that he had no knowledge of his speech until after Blair left Was.h.i.+ngton. We were permitted to communicate this to Mr. Chase. He was satisfied with the President's explanation, and at the Baltimore Convention my large acquaintance enabled me to open the way for Governor Dennison of Ohio to become its presiding officer. All recognized the good effect of the organization of that body by the friends of Mr. Chase.”

The National Republican Convention which met at Baltimore on the 8th of June adopted resolutions heartily approving the course of the administration and especially the policy of emanc.i.p.ation, and completed its good work by nominating Abraham Lincoln as its candidate for President for another term. Andrew Johnson, of Tennessee, was nominated for Vice-President. That Lincoln was gratified at this proof of confidence and esteem there can be no doubt. In his acceptance of the nomination, he said, with the most delicate modesty: ”I view this call to a second term as in no wise more flattering to myself than as an expression of the public judgment that I may better finish a difficult work than could one less severely schooled to the task.” And with characteristic humor, he thanked a visiting delegation for their good opinion of him, saying, ”I have not permitted myself to conclude that I am the best man in the country; but I am reminded of the old Dutch farmer who remarked to a companion that _it was not best to swap horses while crossing a stream_.”

In July, 1864, great excitement and alarm were occasioned in Was.h.i.+ngton by a body of Confederate cavalry under General Early, who actually attacked the fortifications of the city, cut off its railroad communication with the North, and ravaged the country about with fire and sword. For several days skirmis.h.i.+ng was going on between the raiders and the troops in our fortifications. The fact that the President himself was under fire from the enemy on this occasion gave the episode a decided thrill of realism. He, with other government officials--largely, no doubt, from motives of curiosity--visited the scene of the disturbance and witnessed the miniature but sometimes spirited engagements. Among these visitors was Secretary Welles, who thus records his experiences (Diary, July 12, 1864): ”Rode out today to Fort Stevens. Looking out over the valley below, where the continual popping of pickets was going on, I saw a line of our men lying close near the bottom of the valley. Senator Wade came up beside me. We went into the Fort, where we found the President, who was sitting in the shade, his back against the parapet toward the enemy.... As the firing from the Fort ceased, our men ran to the charge and the Rebels fled. We could see them running across the fields, seeking the woods on the brow of the opposite hills. Below, we could see here and there some of our own men bearing away their wounded comrades. Occasionally a bullet from some long-range rifle pa.s.sed over our heads. It was an interesting and exciting spectacle.”

Another account says: ”President Lincoln visited the lines in person, and refused to retire, although urged to do so. He exposed himself freely at Fort Stevens, and a surgeon standing alongside of him was wounded by a ball which struck a gun and glanced.” A gentleman named Neill, who lived in the country, about twelve miles from the city, gives a vivid conception of the imminence of the danger. ”After breakfast, on Tuesday, July 12,” says Mr. Neill, ”I went as usual in a railway car to the city, and before noon my house was surrounded by General Bradley Johnson's insurgent cavalry, who had made an attempt to capture the New York express train, and had robbed the country store near by of its contents. The presence of the cavalry stopped all travel by railroad; and Senator Ramsey of Minnesota, who happened to be in Was.h.i.+ngton, could find no way to the North except by descending the Potomac to its mouth and then ascending Chesapeake Bay to Baltimore. While the cavalry was in the fields around my home, the enemy's infantry was marching toward the capital by what was called the Seventh Street road, and they set fire to the residence of Hon.

Montgomery Blair, who had been Postmaster-General. As I sat in my room at the President's, the smoke of the burning mansion was visible; but business was transacted with as much quietness as if the foe were hundreds of miles distant. Mr. Fox, the a.s.sistant Secretary of the Navy, had in a private note informed the President that if there should be a necessity for him to leave the city he would find a steamer in readiness at the wharf at the foot of Sixth Street. About one o'clock in the afternoon of each day of the skirmis.h.i.+ng, the President would enter his carriage, and drive to the forts, in the suburbs, and watch the soldiers repulse the invaders.” For several days Was.h.i.+ngton was in great danger of capture. Nearly all the forces had been sent forward to reinforce Grant, and the city was comparatively defenseless. But its slender garrison, mostly raw recruits, held out gallantly under the encouragement of the President, until Grant sent a column to attack Early, who promptly withdrew, and the crisis was over. This was the last time the enemy threatened the national capital. From that time he had enough to do to defend Richmond.

Lincoln labored under deep depression during the summer of 1864. The Army of the Potomac achieved apparently very little in return for its enormous expenditure of blood and treasure. Until the victories of Farragut in Mobile Bay, late in August, and Sherman at Atlanta a few days later, the gloom was unrelieved. The people were restless and impatient, and vented their displeasure upon the administration, holding it responsible for all reverses and disappointments, and giving grudging praise for success at any point. The popular displeasure was increased by the President's call for 500,000 additional troops, made July 18,--a measure which some of his strongest friends deprecated, as likely to jeopardize his re-election in November. ”It is not a personal question at all,” said Lincoln. ”It matters not what becomes of _me. We must have the men_. If I go down, I intend to go like the c.u.mberland, with my colors flying.” To the question, When is the war to end? he said, ”Surely I feel as deep an interest in this question as any other can; but I do not wish to name a day, a month, or a year, when it is to end.

We accepted this war _for an object_--a worthy object; and the war will end _when that object is attained_. Under G.o.d, I hope it _never will end until that time_.”

The President's mind seemed constantly weighted with anxiety as to the movements and fortunes of our armies in the field. He could not sleep at night under this crus.h.i.+ng load. Secretary Welles's Diary gives frequent instances of this. Once, after an engagement between the Western armies, the President, says Mr. Welles, ”came to me with the latest news. He was feeling badly. Tells me a despatch was sent to him at the Soldiers' Home last night shortly after he got asleep, and so disturbed him that he had no more rest, but arose and came to the city and pa.s.sed the remainder of the night awake and watchful.” At another time, after a desperate battle between Grant and Lee, Mr. Welles says: ”The President came into my room about one P.M. and told me he _had slept none last night._ He lay down for a short time on the sofa in my room, and detailed all the news he had gathered.”

Ex-Governor Bross of Illinois furnishes an account of an interview with Lincoln during this dark period: ”The last time I saw Mr. Lincoln, till, as a pallbearer, I accompanied his remains to their last resting-place, was in the early part of August, 1864. It was directly after the frightful disaster at Petersburg, and I was on my way to the front, to recover, if possible, the body of my brother, Colonel John A. Bross, who fell there at the head of his regiment. I found the President with a large pile of doc.u.ments before him. He laid down his pen and gave me a cordial but rather melancholy welcome, asking anxiously for news from the West. Neither of us could shut our eyes to the gloom which hung over the entire country. The terrible losses of the Wilderness, and the awful disaster at Petersburg, weighed heavily upon our spirits. To a question, I answered that the people expected a still more vigorous prosecution of the war; more troops and needful appliances would, if called for, be forthcoming. 'I will tell you what the people want,' said the President, 'they want, and must have, _success_. But whether that come or not, I shall stay _right here_ and do my duty. Here I shall be; and they may come and hang me on that tree' (pointing out of the window to one), 'but, G.o.d helping me, I shall never desert my post.' This was said in a way that a.s.sured me that these were the sentiments of his inmost soul.”

The President, about this time, was greatly worried by Horace Greeley and others, who importuned him to receive negotiations for peace from the Confederate authorities. He at length said to Mr. Greeley, ”I not only intend a sincere effort for peace, but you shall be a personal witness that it is made.” On the same day that the call for additional troops was made, the President issued, through Mr. Greeley, the famous letter, ”To Whom It May Concern,” promising safe conduct to any person or persons authorized to present ”any proposition which embraces the restoration of peace, the _integrity of the whole Union_, and the _abandonment of slavery_.” Nothing came of the proposed negotiations, except to stop for a time the mischievous fault-finding; which was, of course, the result aimed at by Lincoln. The act was severely condemned by many Republicans; but Lincoln only said, ”It is hardly fair for them to say the letter amounts to _nothing_. It will shut up Greeley, and satisfy the people who are clamoring for peace. That's _something_, anyhow!”

So much blame was heaped upon the Government, and so great was the dissatisfaction at the North, that Lincoln looked upon the election of his compet.i.tor, General McClellan, and his own retirement, as not improbable. An incident in evidence of his discouragement is related by Secretary Welles. Entering the Executive office one day, Mr. Welles was asked to write his name across the back of a sealed paper which the President handed him. The names of several other members of the Cabinet were already on the paper, with the dates of signature. After the election, Lincoln opened the doc.u.ment in the presence of his Cabinet and read to them its contents, as follows:

EXECUTIVE MANSION, WAs.h.i.+NGTON, August 23, 1864.

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 co-operate with the President-elect so as to save the Union between the election and the inauguration.

A. LINCOLN.

By this careful prevision had Lincoln pledged himself to give to his successor that unselfish and patriotic a.s.sistance of which he himself had stood so sorely in need.

As the desperation of the South and the opposition to Lincoln at the North increased, fears were entertained by his friends that an attempt might be made upon his life. Lincoln himself paid but little heed to these forebodings of evil. He said, philosophically: ”I long ago made up my mind that if anybody wants to kill me, he will do it. If I wore a s.h.i.+rt of mail and kept myself surrounded by a bodyguard, it would be all the same. There are a thousand ways of getting at a man if it is desired that he should be killed. Besides, in this case, it seems to me, the man who would succeed me would be just as objectionable to my enemies--if I have any.” One dark night, as he was going out with a friend, he took along a heavy cane, remarking good-humoredly that ”mother” (Mrs.

Lincoln) had ”got a notion into her head that I shall be a.s.sa.s.sinated, and to please her I take a cane when I go over to the War Department at nights--when I don't forget it.”

It is probable that the attempts upon the life of President Lincoln were more numerous than is generally known. An incident of a very thrilling character, which might easily have involved a shocking tragedy, is related by Mr. John W. Nichols, who from the summer of 1862 until 1865 was one of the President's body-guard. ”One night, about the middle of August, 1864,” says Mr. Nichols, ”I was doing sentinel duty at the large gate through which entrance was had to the grounds of the Soldiers'

Home, near Was.h.i.+ngton, where Mr. Lincoln spent much time in summer.

About eleven o'clock I heard a rifle-shot in the direction of the city, and shortly afterwards I heard approaching hoof-beats. In two or three minutes a horse came das.h.i.+ng up, and I recognized the belated President.