After the New England tour, Lincoln returned to his home in Springfield.
As often happens, those least appreciative of his success were his own
neighbors; and certain reflections gained vogue concerning his motives
in visiting the East. It was charged that he had been mercenary; that
his political speeches had been paid for. Something of this sort having
been brought to Lincoln's notice, he disposed of the matter in the
following manly and characteristic letter:
C.F. McNEILL, ESQ.--_Dear Sir:_--Reaching home yesterday, I found
yours of the 23d March, enclosing a slip from the 'Middleport
Press.' It is not true that I ever charged anything for a political
speech in my life; but this much is true: Last October I was
requested by letter to deliver some sort of speech in Mr. Beecher's
church in Brooklyn, $200 being offered in the first letter. I wrote
that I could do it in February, provided they would take a
political speech if I could find time to get up no other. They
agreed; and subsequently I informed them the speech would have to
be a political one. When I reached New York, I learned for the
first time that the place was changed to Cooper Institute. I made
the speech, and left for New England, where I have a son at school,
neither asking for pay nor having any offered me. Three days after,
a check for $200 was sent me, and I took it, and did not know it
was wrong. My understanding now is--though I knew nothing of it at
the time--that they did charge for admittance at the Cooper
Institute, and that they took in more than twice $200. I have made
this explanation to you as a friend; 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.
When I returned through New York from New England, I was told by
the gentleman who sent me the check that a drunken vagabond in the
club, having learned something about the $200, made the exhibition
out of which the 'Herald' manufactured the article quoted by the
'Press' of your town. My judgment is, and therefore my request is,
that you give no denial, and no explanations.
Thanking you for your kind interest in the matter, I remain,
Yours truly, A. LINCOLN.
It appears that on the Sunday which Lincoln spent in New York City he
visited a Sunday School in the notorious region called Five Points, and
there made a short address to the scholars. After his return to
Springfield, one of his neighbors, hearing of this, thought it would be
a good subject for bantering Lincoln about, and accordingly visited him
for that purpose. This neighbor was generally known as "Jim," just as
Lincoln was called "Abe." The following account of his visit, furnished
by Mr. Edward Eggleston, shows that he did not derive as much fun from
the "bantering" as he had expected: "He started for 'Old Abe's' office;
but bursting open the door impulsively, found a stranger in conversation
with Mr. Lincoln. He turned to retrace his steps, when Lincoln called
out, 'Jim! What do you want?' 'Nothing.' 'Yes, you do; come back.' After
some entreaty 'Jim' approached Mr. Lincoln, and remarked, with a twinkle
in his eye, 'Well, Abe, I see you have been making a speech to Sunday
School children. What's the matter?' 'Sit down, Jim, and I'll tell you
all about it.' And with that Lincoln put his feet on the stove, and
began: 'When Sunday morning came, I didn't know exactly what to do. Mr.
Washburne asked me where I was going. I told him I had nowhere to go;
and he proposed to take me down to the Five Points Sunday School, to
show me something worth seeing. I was very much interested by what I
saw. Presently, Mr. Pease came up and spoke to Mr. Washburne, who
introduced me. Mr. Pease wanted us to speak. Washburne spoke, and then I
was urged to speak. I told them I did not know anything about talking to
Sunday Schools, but Mr. Pease said many of the children were friendless
and homeless, and that a few words would do them good. Washburne said I
must talk. And so I rose to speak; but I tell you, Jim, I didn't know
what to say. I remembered that Mr. Pease said they were homeless and
friendless, and I thought of the time when I had been pinched by
terrible poverty. And so I told them that I had been poor; that I
remembered when my toes stuck out through my broken shoes in winter;
when my arms were out at the elbows; when I shivered with the cold. And
I told them there was only one rule; that was, always do the very best
you can. I told them that I had always tried to do the very best I
could; and that, if they would follow that rule, they would get along
somehow. That was about what I said. And when I got through, Mr. Pease
said it was just the thing they needed. And when the school was
dismissed, all the teachers came up and shook hands with me, and thanked
me; although I did not know that I had been saying anything of any
account. But the next morning I saw my remarks noticed in the papers.'
Just here Mr. Lincoln put his hand in his pocket, and remarked that he
had never heard anything that touched him as had the songs which those
children sang. With that he drew forth a little book, saying that they
had given him one of the books from which they sang. He began to read a
piece with all the earnestness of his great, earnest soul. In the middle
of the second verse his friend 'Jim' felt a choking in his throat and a
tickling in his nose. At the beginning of the third verse he saw that
the stranger was weeping, and his own tears fell fast. Turning toward
Lincoln, who was reading straight on, he saw the great blinding tears in
his eyes, so that he could not possibly see the pages. He was repeating
that little song from memory. How often he had read it, or how long its
sweet and simple accents continued to reverberate through his soul, no
one can know."
CHAPTER XIII
Looking Towards the Presidency--The Illinois Republican Convention
of 1860--A "Send-Off" for Lincoln--The National Republican
Convention at Chicago--Contract of the Leading Candidates--Lincoln
Nominated--Scenes at the Convention--Sketches by
Eye-Witnesses--Lincoln Hearing the News--The Scene at
Springfield--A Visit to Lincoln at His Home--Recollections of a
Distinguished Sculptor--Receiving the Committee of the
Convention--Nomination of Douglas--Campaign of 1860--Various
Campaign Reminiscences--Lincoln and the Tall Southerner--The Vote
of the Springfield Clergy--A Graceful Letter to the Poet
Bryant--"Looking up Hard Spots."
In the latter part of the year 1859, after Lincoln had gained
considerable national prominence through events already briefly
narrated, some of his friends began to consider the expediency of
bringing him forward as a candidate for the Presidency in 1860. The
young Republican party had thus far been in the minority, and the
necessity was generally felt of nominating a man who would not render
himself objectionable by advocating extreme or unpopular measures. The
subject was mentioned to Lincoln, but he seems not to have taken it very
seriously. He said that there were distinguished men in the party who
were more worthy of the nomination, and whose public services entitled
them to it. Toward spring in 1860 Lincoln consented to a conference on
the subject with some of his more intimate friends. The meeting took
place in a committee-room in the State House. Mr. Bushnell, Mr. Hatch
(then Secretary of State), Mr. Judd (Chairman of the Republican State
Central Committee), Mr. Peck, and Mr. Grimshaw were present. They were
unanimous in opinion as to the expediency and propriety of making
Lincoln a candidate. But he was still reluctant; he doubted that he
could get the nomination even if he wished it, and asked until the next
morning to consider the matter. The next day he authorized his friends
to work for him, if they so desired, as a candidate for the Presidency,
at the National Republican convention to be held in May at Chicago.
It is evident that while Lincoln had no serious expectation of receiving
the nomination, yet having consented to become a candidate he was by no
means indifferent on the subject. The following confidential letter to
his friend N.B. Judd shows his feelings at this time.
SPRINGFIELD, ILL., FEBRUARY 9, 1860.
HON. N.B. JUDD--_Dear Sir_:--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. What I expected when I wrote the letter to Messrs. Dole
and others is now happening. Your discomfited assailants are more
bitter against me, and they will, for revenge upon me, lay to the
Bates egg in the South and the Seward egg in the North, and go far
towards squeezing me out in the middle with nothing. Can you not
help me a little in this matter in your end of the vineyard? (I
mean this to be private.)
Yours as ever, A. LINCOLN.
It would seem that the original intention of Lincoln's friends had been
to bring him out as a candidate for the Vice-Presidency. Hon. E.M.
Haines states that as early as the spring of 1859, before the
adjournment of the Legislature of which he was a member, some of the
Republican members discussed the feasibility of urging Lincoln's name
for the Vice-Presidency. Lincoln appears not to have taken very strongly
to the suggestion. "I recollect," says Mr. Haines, "that one day Mr.
Lincoln came to my desk in the House of Representatives, to make some
inquiry regarding another member; and during the conversation, referring
to his growing reputation, I remarked to him that I did not know that
we would be able to make him President, but perhaps we could do the next
best thing, and make him Vice-President. He brightened up somewhat, and
answered by a story which I do not clearly recall, but the application
of which was that he scarcely considered himself a big enough man for
President, while the Vice-Presidency was scarcely big enough office for
one who had aspired to a seat in the Senate of the United States."
On the 9th and 10th of May, 1860, the Republicans of Illinois met in
convention at Decatur. Lincoln was present, although he is said to have
been there as a mere spectator. It was, Mr. Lamon tells us, "A very
large and spirited body, comprising the most brilliant as well as the
shrewdest men in the party. It was evident that something of more than
usual importance was expected to transpire. A few moments after the
convention organized, 'Old Abe' was seen squatting, or sitting on his
heels, just within the door of the convention building. Governor Oglesby
rose and said, amid increasing silence, 'I am informed that a
distinguished citizen of Illinois, and one whom Illinois will ever
delight to honor, is present; and I wish to move that this body invite
him to a seat on the stand.' Here the Governor paused, as if to work
curiosity up to the highest point; then he shouted the magic name,
'_Abraham Lincoln_!' A roar of applause shook every board and joist of
the building. The motion was seconded and passed. A rush was made for
the hero, who still sat on his heels. He was seized and jerked to his
feet. An effort was made to 'jam him through the crowd' to his place of
honor on the stage; but the crowd was too dense. Then he was
'boosted'--lifted up bodily--and lay for a few seconds sprawling and
kicking upon the heads and shoulders of the great throng. In this manner
he was gradually pushed toward the stand, and finally reached it,
doubtless to his great relief, 'in the arms of some half-dozen
gentlemen,' who set him down in full view of his clamorous admirers.
'The cheering was like the roar of the sea. Hats were thrown up by the
Chicago delegation, as if hats were no longer useful.' Mr. Lincoln rose,
bowed, smiled, blushed, and thanked the assembly as well as he could in
the midst of such a tumult. A gentleman who saw it all says, 'I then
thought him one of the most diffident and worst-plagued men I ever saw.'
At another stage of the proceedings, Governor Oglesby rose again with
another provoking and mysterious speech. 'There was,' he said, 'an old
Democrat outside who had something he wished to present to the
convention.' 'Receive it!' 'Receive it!' cried some. 'What is it?' 'What
is it?' yelled some of the lower Egyptians, who seemed to have an idea
that the 'old Democrat' might want to blow them up with an infernal
machine. The door opened; and a fine, robust old fellow, with an open
countenance and bronzed cheeks, marched into the midst of the
assemblage, bearing on his shoulder 'two small triangular heart rails,'
surmounted by a banner with this inscription: '_Two rails from a lot
made by Abraham Lincoln and John Hanks, in the Sangamon Bottom, in the
year 1830_.' The sturdy rail-bearer was old John Hanks himself, enjoying
the great field-day of his life. He was met with wild and tumultuous
cheers, prolonged through several minutes; and it was observed that the
Chicago and Central-Illinois men sent up the loudest and longest
cheering. The scene was tempestuous and bewildering. But it ended at
last; and now the whole body, those in the secret and those out of it,
clamored for a speech from Mr. Lincoln, who in the meantime 'blushed,'
but seemed to shake with inward laughter. In response to the repeated
calls he rose and said: 'Gentlemen, I suppose you want to know something
about those things' (pointing to old John and the rails). 'Well, the
truth is, John Hanks and I did make rails in the Sangamon Bottom. I
don't know whether we made those rails or not; the fact is, I don't
think they are a credit to the makers' (laughing as he spoke). 'But I do
know this: I made rails then, and I think I could make better ones than
these now.' By this time the innocent Egyptians began to open their
eyes; they saw plainly enough the admirable Presidential scheme unfolded
to their view. The result of it all was a resolution declaring that
'Abraham Lincoln is the first choice of the Republican party of Illinois
for the Presidency, and instructing the delegates to the Chicago
convention to use all honorable means to secure his nomination, and to
cast the vote of the State as a unit for him.'"
On the 16th of May, 1860, the National Republican convention met at
Chicago. An immense building called "The Wigwam," erected for the
occasion, was filled with an excited throng numbering fully twelve
thousand. After the usual preliminaries the convention settled down to
the serious work of nominating a candidate for the Presidency. From the
outset the contest was clearly between Abraham Lincoln of Illinois and
William H. Seward of New York. On the first ballot, Seward's vote of
173-1/2 was followed by Lincoln with 102--the latter having more than
double the vote of his next competitor, Simon Cameron of Pennsylvania
(51 votes), who was followed by Salmon P. Chase of Ohio (49 votes) and
Edward Bates of Missouri (48 votes). A contrast between these two
remarkable men, Seward and Lincoln, now political antagonists but soon
to be intimately associated at the head of the Government--one as
President and the other as his prime minister--is most interesting and
instructive. Seward was a trained statesman and experienced politician
of ripe culture and great sagacity, the acknowledged leader of the
Republican party, New York's ex-Governor and now its most distinguished
Senator. His position and career were therefore far more conspicuous
than those of Lincoln. His supporters in the convention were
well-organized, bold, confident, and expected that he would be nominated
by acclamation. Lincoln, on the other hand, was still essentially a
country lawyer, who had come into prominence mainly as the competitor of
Senator Douglas in Illinois in 1858. With all his native strength of
mind and force of character, he was, compared with the polished Seward,
a rude backwoodsman, unskilled in handling the reins of government,
unfamiliar with the wiles of statecraft, and unused to the company of
diplomats and social leaders. His political reputation, and his support
in the convention, were chiefly Western. Yet his Cooper Institute
speech, delivered three months before the convention met, had done much
for him in the East; and the homely title of "Honest Old Abe" had
extended throughout the free States. Unlike Seward, he had no political
enemies, and was the second choice of most of the delegates whose first
choice was some other candidate.
In political management and strategy the Western men at the convention
soon showed that they were at best a match for those from the East. Soon
after the opening of the convention, Lincoln's friends saw that there
was an organized body of men in the crowd who cheered vociferously
whenever Seward's name was mentioned. "At a meeting of the Illinois
delegation at the Tremont House," says Mr. Arnold, "on the evening of
the first day, at which Judd, Davis, Cook and others were present, it
was decided that on the second day Illinois and the West should be
heard. There was then living in Chicago a man whose voice could drown
the roar of Lake Michigan in its wildest fury; nay, it was said that his
shout could be heard on a calm day across that lake. Cook of Ottawa knew
another man living on the Illinois river, a Dr. Ames, who had never
found his equal in his ability to shout and hurrah. He was, however, a
Democrat. Cook telegraphed to him to come to Chicago by the first
train. These two men with stentorian voices met some of the Illinois
delegation at the Tremont House, and were instructed to organize each a
body of men to cheer and shout, which they speedily did, out of the
crowds which were in attendance from the Northwest. They were placed on
opposite sides of the Wigwam, and instructed that when they saw Cook
take out his white handkerchief they were to cheer and not to cease
until he returned it to his pocket. Cook was conspicuous on the
platform, and at the first utterance of the name of Lincoln,
simultaneously with the wave of Cook's handkerchief, there went up such
a cheer, such a shout as had never before been heard, and which startled
the friends of Seward as the cry of 'Marmion' on Flodden Field 'startled
the Scottish foe.' The New Yorkers tried to follow when the name of
Seward was spoken, but, beaten at their own game, their voices were
drowned by the cheers for Lincoln. This was kept up until Lincoln was
nominated, amidst a storm of applause probably never before equalled at
a political convention."
The result on the first ballot, with Seward leading Lincoln by 71-1/2
votes, has already been given. On the second ballot Seward gained 11
votes, giving him 184-1/2; while Lincoln made the astonishing gain of 78
votes, giving him a total of 181 and reducing Seward's lead of 71-1/2
votes to 3-1/2 votes. There was no longer doubt of the result. The third
ballot came, and Lincoln, passing Seward who had fallen off 3-1/2 votes
from the previous ballot, ran rapidly up to 231-1/2 votes--233 being the
number required to nominate. Lincoln now lacked but a vote and a half to
make him the nominee. At this juncture, the chairman of the Ohio
delegation rose and changed four votes from Chase to Lincoln, giving him
the nomination. The Wigwam was shaken to its foundation by the roaring
cheers. The multitude in the streets answered the multitude within, and
in a moment more all the volunteer artillery of Chicago joined in the
grand acclamation. After a time the business of the convention
proceeded, amid great excitement. All the votes that had heretofore been
cast against Lincoln were cast for him before this ballot concluded. The
convention completed its work by the nomination of Hannibal Hamlin of
Maine for Vice-President.
Mr. F.B. Carpenter, who was present at Lincoln's nomination, furnishes a
graphic sketch of this dramatic episode. "The scene surpassed
description. Men had been stationed upon the roof of the Wigwam to
communicate the result of the different ballots to the thousands
outside, far outnumbering the packed crowd inside. To these men one of
the secretaries shouted: 'Fire the salute! Lincoln is nominated!' Then,
as the cheering inside died away, the roar began on the outside, and
swelled up from the excited masses like the noise of many waters. This
the insiders heard, and to it they replied. Thus deep called to deep
with such a frenzy of sympathetic enthusiasm that even the thundering
salute of cannon was unheard by many on the platform. When the
excitement had partly subsided, Mr. Evarts of New York arose, and in
appropriate words expressed his grief that Seward had not been
nominated. He then moved that the nomination of Abraham Lincoln be made
unanimous. Governor John A. Andrew of Massachusetts and Hon. Carl Schurz
of Wisconsin seconded the motion, and it was carried. Then the
enthusiasm of the multitude burst out anew. A large banner, prepared by
the Pennsylvania delegation, was conspicuously displayed, bearing the
inscription, 'Pennsylvania good for twenty thousand majority for the
people's candidate, Abe Lincoln.' Delegates tore up the sticks and
boards bearing the names of their several States, and waved them aloft
over their heads. A brawny man jumped upon the platform, and pulling
his coat-sleeves up to his elbows, shouted: 'I can't stop! Three times
three more cheers for our next President, Abe Lincoln!' A full-length
portrait of the candidate was produced upon the platform. Mr. Greeley
telegraphed to the N.Y. Tribune: 'There was never another such scene in
America.' Chicago went wild. One hundred guns were fired from the top of
the Tremont House. At night the city was in a blaze of glory. Bonfires,
processions, torchlights, fire-works, illuminations and salutes, 'filled
the air with noise and the eye with beauty.' 'Honest Old Abe' was the
utterance of every man in the streets. The Illinois delegation before it
separated 'resolved' that the millennium had come."
Governor Andrew, who was destined to have highly important and intimate
relations with Lincoln during the Civil War, records his first
impressions of him in a few vivid sentences. "Beyond the experiences of
the journey from Boston to Chicago," says Andrew's biographer, "beyond
even the strain and excitement of those hours in caucus and convention,
was the impression made on him by Lincoln as he saw him for the first
time." Andrew was one of the committee of delegates who went to
Springfield to notify Lincoln of his nomination at Chicago. He and the
other delegates, he says, "saw in a flash that here was a man who was
master of himself. For the first time they understood that he whom they
had supposed to be little more than a loquacious and clever State
politician, had force, insight, conscience; that their misgivings were
vain.... My eyes were never visited with the vision of a human face in
which more transparent honesty and more benignant kindness were combined
with more of the intellect and firmness which belong to masculine
humanity. I would trust my case with the honesty and intellect and heart
and brain of Abraham Lincoln as a lawyer; and I would trust my country's
cause in the care of Abraham Lincoln as its chief magistrate, while the
wind blows and the water runs."
Dr. J.G. Holland gives a vivid picture of Lincoln's reception of the
exciting news. "In the little city of Springfield," says Dr. Holland,
"in the heart of Illinois, two hundred miles from where these exciting
events were in progress, sat Abraham Lincoln, in constant telegraphic
communication with his friends in Chicago. He was apprised of the
results of every ballot, and with some of his friends sat in the
'Journal' office receiving and commenting upon the dispatches. It was
one of the decisive moments of his life--a moment on which hung his fate
as a public man, his place in history. He fully appreciated the
momentous results of the convention to himself and the nation, and
foresaw the nature of the great struggle which his nomination and
election would inaugurate. At last, in the midst of intense excitement,
a messenger from the telegraph office entered with the decisive dispatch
in his hand. Without handing it to anyone, he took his way solemnly to
the side of Mr. Lincoln, and said: 'The convention has made a
nomination, and Mr. Seward is--the second man on the list.' Then he
jumped upon the editorial table and shouted, 'Gentlemen, I propose three
cheers for Abraham Lincoln, the next President of the United States!'
and the call was boisterously responded to. He then handed the dispatch
to Mr. Lincoln, who read it in silence, and then aloud. After exchanging
greetings and receiving congratulations from those around him, he strove
to get out of the crowd, and as he moved off he remarked to those near
him: 'Well, there is a little woman who will be interested in this news,
and I will go home and tell her,' and he hurried on, with the crowd
following and cheering."
As soon as the news spread about Springfield a salute of a hundred guns
was fired, and during the afternoon Lincoln's friends and neighbors
thronged his house to tender their congratulations and express their
joy. "In the evening," says one narrator, "the State House was thrown
open and a most enthusiastic meeting held by the Republicans. At the
close they marched in a body to the Lincoln mansion and called for the
nominee. Mr. Lincoln appeared, and after a brief, modest, and hearty
speech, invited as many as could get into the house to enter; the crowd
responding that after the fourth of March they would give him a larger
house. The people did not retire until a late hour, and then moved off
reluctantly, leaving the excited household to their rest."
Among the more significant and intimate of the personal reminiscences of
Lincoln are those by Mr. Leonard W. Volk, the distinguished sculptor
already mentioned in these pages. Mr. Volk arrived in Springfield on the
day of Lincoln's nomination, and had some unusually interesting
conversation with him. He had already, only a month before, made the
life-mask of Lincoln that became so well and favorably known. It is one
of the last representations showing him without a beard. The
circumstances and incidents attending the taking of this life-mask, as
narrated by Mr. Volk, are well worth reproducing here. "One morning in
April, 1860," says Mr. Volk, "I noticed in the paper that Abraham
Lincoln was in Chicago,--retained as one of the counsel in a 'Sand-bar'
trial in which the Michigan Central Railroad was either plaintiff or
defendant. I at once decided to remind him of his promise to sit to me,
made two years before. I found him in the United States District Court
room, his feet on the edge of the table, and his long dark hair standing
out at every imaginable angle. He was surrounded by a group of lawyers,
such as James F. Joy, Isaac N. Arnold, Thomas Hoyne, and others. Mr.
Arnold obtained his attention in my behalf, when he instantly arose and
met me outside the rail, recognizing me at once with his usual grip of
both hands. He remembered his promise, and said, in answer to my
question, that he expected to be detained by the case for a week. He
added: 'I shall be glad to give you the sittings. When shall I come, and
how long will you need me each time?' Just after breakfast every morning
would, he said, suit him the best, and he could remain till court opened
at ten o'clock. I answered that I would be ready for him the next
morning (Thursday). 'Very well, Mr. Volk, I will be there, and I'll go
to a barber and have my hair cut before I come.' I requested him not to
let the barber cut it too short, and said I would rather he would leave
it as it was; but to this he would not consent.... He was on hand
promptly at the time appointed; indeed, he never failed to be on time.
My studio was in the fifth story. There were no elevators in those days,
and I soon learned to distinguish his step on the stairs, and am sure he
frequently came up two, if not three, steps at a stride. When he sat
down the first time in that hard, wooden, low-armed chair which I still
possess, and which has been occupied by Douglas, Seward, and Generals
Grant and Dix, he said, 'Mr. Volk, I have never sat before to sculptor
or painter--only for daguerreotypes and photographs. What shall I do?' I
told him I would only take the measurements of his head and shoulders
that time, and that the next morning I would make a cast of his face,
which would save him a number of sittings. He stood up against the wall,
and I made a mark above his head, and then measured up to it from the
floor and said: 'You are just twelve inches taller than Judge Douglas;
that is, just six feet four inches.'
"Before commencing the cast next morning, and knowing Mr. Lincoln's
fondness for a story, I told him one in order to remove what I thought
an apprehensive expression--as though he feared the operation might be
dangerous. He sat naturally in the chair when I made the cast, and saw
every move I made in a mirror opposite, as I put the plaster on without
interference with his eyesight or his free breathing through the
nostrils. It was about an hour before the mould was ready to be removed,
and being all in one piece, with both ears perfectly taken, it clung
pretty hard, as the cheek-bones were higher than the jaws at the lobe of
the ear. He bent his head low, and worked the cast off without breaking
or injury; it hurt a little, as a few hairs of the tender temples pulled
out with the plaster and made his eyes water.
"He entered my studio on Sunday morning, remarking that a friend at the
hotel (Tremont House) had invited him to go to church, 'but,' said Mr.
Lincoln, 'I thought I'd rather come and sit for the bust. The fact is,'
he continued, 'I don't like to hear cut-and-dried sermons. No--when I
hear a man preach, I like to see him act as _if he were fighting bees_!'
And he extended his long arms, at the same time suiting the action to
the words. He gave me on this day a long sitting of more than four
hours, and when it was concluded we went to our family apartment to look
at a collection of photographs which I had made in 1855-6-7 in Rome and
Florence. While sitting in the rocking-chair, he took my little son on
his lap and spoke kindly to him, asking his name, age, etc. I held the
photographs up and explained them to him; but I noticed a growing
weariness, and his eyelids closed occasionally as if he were sleepy, or
were thinking of something besides Grecian and Roman statuary and
architecture. Finally he said, 'These things must be very interesting to
you, Mr. Volk; but the truth is, I don't know much of history, and all I
do know of it I have learned from law books.'
"The sittings were continued daily till the Thursday following; and
during their continuance he would talk almost unceasingly, telling some
of the funniest and most laughable of stories, but he talked little of
politics or religion during these sittings. He said, 'I am bored nearly
every time I sit down to a public dining-table by some one pitching into
me on politics.' Many people, presumably political aspirants with an eye
to future prospects, besieged my door for interviews, but I made it a
rule to keep it locked, and I think Mr. Lincoln appreciated the
precaution. On our last sitting I noticed that Mr. Lincoln was in
something of a hurry. I had finished the head, but desired to represent
his breast and brawny shoulders as nature presented them; so he stripped
off his coat, waistcoat, shirt, cravat, and collar, threw them on a
chair, pulled his undershirt down a short distance, tying the sleeves
behind him, and stood up without a murmur for an hour or so. I then said
I had done, and was a thousand times obliged to him for his promptness
and patience, and offered to assist him to re-dress, but he said, 'No, I
can do it better alone.' I kept at my work without looking toward him,
wishing to catch the form as accurately as possible while it was fresh
in my memory. He left hurriedly, saying he had an engagement, and with a
cordial 'Good-bye! I will see you again soon,' passed out. A few minutes
after, I recognized his steps rapidly returning. The door opened and in
he came, exclaiming, 'Hello, Mr. Volk! I got down on the sidewalk, and
found I had forgotten to put on my undershirt, and thought it wouldn't
do to go through the streets this way.' Sure enough, there were the
sleeves of that garment dangling below the skirts of his broadcloth
frock-coat! I went at once to his assistance, and helped to undress and
re-dress him all right, and out he went with a hearty laugh at the
absurdity of the thing."
Returning to the visit with Lincoln at Springfield on the day of his
nomination, Mr. Volk says. "The afternoon was lovely--bright and sunny,
neither too warm nor too cool; the grass, trees, and the hosts of
blooming roses, so profuse in Springfield, appeared to be vying with
the ringing bells and waving flags. I went straight to Mr. Lincoln's
unpretentious little two-story house. He saw me from his door or window
coming down the street, and as I entered the gate he was on the platform
in front of the door, and quite alone. His face looked radiant. I
exclaimed: 'I am the first man from Chicago, I believe, who has the
honor of congratulating you on your nomination for President.' Then
those two great hands took both of mine with a grasp never to be
forgotten. And while shaking them, I said: 'Now that you will doubtless
be the next President of the United States, I want to make a statue of
you, and shall do my best to do you justice.' Said he, 'I don't doubt
it, for I have come to the conclusion that you are an honest man,' and
with that greeting I thought my hands were in a fair way of being
crushed. I was invited into the parlor, and soon Mrs. Lincoln entered,
holding a rose-bouquet in her hand, which she presented to me after the
introduction; and in return I gave her a cabinet-size bust of her
husband, which I had modelled from the large one, and happened to have
with me. Before leaving the house it was arranged that Mr. Lincoln would
give Saturday forenoon to obtaining full-length photographs to serve me
for the proposed statue. On Saturday evening, the committee appointed by
the convention to notify Mr. Lincoln formally of his nomination, headed
by Mr. Ashmun of Massachusetts, reached Springfield by special train,
bearing a large number of people, two or three hundred of whom carried
rails on their shoulders, marching in military style from the train to
the old State House Hall of Representatives, where they stacked them
like muskets. The evening was beautiful and clear, and the entire
population was astir. The bells pealed, flags waved, and cannon
thundered forth the triumphant nomination of Springfield's distinguished
citizen. The bonfires blazed brightly, and especially in front of that
prim-looking white house on Eighth street. The committee and the vast
crowd following it passed in at the front door, and made their exit
through the kitchen door in the rear, Mr. Lincoln giving them all a
hearty shake of the hand as they passed him in the parlor. By
appointment, I was to cast Mr. Lincoln's hands on the Sunday following
this memorable Saturday, at nine A.M. I found him ready, but he looked
more grave and serious than he had appeared on the previous days. I
wished him to hold something in his right hand, and he looked for a
piece of pasteboard, but could find none. I told him a round stick would
do as well as anything. Thereupon he went to the wood-shed, and I heard
the saw go, and he soon returned to the dining-room (where I did the
work), whittling off the end of a piece of broom-handle. I remarked to
him that he need not whittle off the edges. 'Oh, well,' said he, 'I
thought I would like to have it nice.' When I had successfully cast the
mould of the right hand, I began the left, pausing a few moments to hear
Mr. Lincoln tell me about a scar on the thumb. 'You have heard that they
call me a rail-splitter, and you saw them carrying rails in the
procession Saturday evening; well, it is true that I did split rails,
and one day, while I was sharpening a wedge on a log, the axe glanced
and nearly took my thumb off, and there is the scar, you see.' The right
hand appeared swollen as compared with the left, on account of excessive
hand-shaking the evening before; this difference is distinctly shown in
the cast. That Sunday evening I returned to Chicago with the moulds of
his hands, three photographic negatives of him, the identical black
alpaca campaign suit of 1858, and a pair of Lynn newly-made pegged
boots. The clothes were all burned up in the great Chicago fire. The
casts of the face and hands I saved by taking them with me to Rome, and
they have crossed the sea four times. The last time I saw Mr. Lincoln
was in January, 1861, at his house in Springfield. His little parlor
was full of friends and politicians. He introduced me to them all, and
remarked to me aside that since he had sat to me for his bust, eight or
nine months before, he had lost forty pounds in weight. This was easily
perceptible, for the lines of his jaws were very sharply defined through
the short beard which he was allowing to grow. Then he turned to the
company and explained in a general way that I had made a bust of him
before his nomination, and that he was then giving daily sittings to
another sculptor; that he had sat to him for a week or more, but could
not see the likeness, though he might yet bring it out. 'But,' continued
Mr. Lincoln, 'in two or three days after Mr. Volk began my bust, there
was the animal himself!' And this was about the last, if not the last,
remark I ever heard him utter, except the good-bye and his good wishes
for my success."
Saturday, May 19, the committee of the Chicago convention arrived at
Springfield to notify Mr. Lincoln of his nomination. The Hon. George
Ashmun, as chairman of the committee, delivered the formal address, to
which Lincoln listened with dignity, but with an air of profound
sadness, as though the trials in store for him had already "cast their
shadows before." In response to the address, Lincoln said:
MR. CHAIRMAN AND GENTLEMEN OF THE COMMITTEE:--I tender to you and
through you to the Republican National convention, and all the
people represented in it, my profoundest thanks for the high honor
done me, which you now formally announce. Deeply and even painfully
sensible of the great responsibility which is inseparable from this
high honor--a responsibility which I could almost wish had fallen
upon some one of the far more eminent men and experienced statesmen
whose distinguished names were before the convention--I shall, by
your leave, consider more fully the resolutions of the convention,
denominated the platform, and, without unnecessary and
unreasonable delay, respond to you, Mr. Chairman, in writing, not
doubting that the platform will be found satisfactory, and the
nomination gratefully accepted. And now I will not longer defer the
pleasure of taking you, and each of you, by the hand.
A letter was then handed Lincoln containing the official notice,
accompanied by the resolutions of the convention. To this letter he
replied, a few days later, as follows:
SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS, MAY 23, 1860.
SIR--I accept the nomination tendered to me by the convention over
which you presided, of which I am formally apprised in a letter of
yourself and others acting as a Committee of the Convention for
that purpose. The declaration of principles and sentiments which
accompanies your letter meets my approval, and it shall be my care
not to violate it, or disregard it in any part. Imploring the
assistance of Divine Providence, and with due regard to 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,
harmony and prosperity of all, I am most happy to co-operate for
the practical success of the principles declared by the convention.
In June Mr. Douglas was nominated for the Presidency by the Democratic
convention, which met at Baltimore on the 18th. Mr. Douglas made a
personal canvass, speaking in most of the states, North and South, and
exerting all the powers of which he was master to win success. The
campaign, as Mr. Arnold states, "has had no parallel. The enthusiasm of
the people was like a great conflagration, like a prairie fire before a
wild tornado. A little more than twenty years had passed since Owen
Lovejoy, brother of Elijah Lovejoy, on the bank of the Mississippi,
kneeling on the turf not then green over the grave of the brother who
had been killed for his fidelity to freedom, had sworn eternal war
against slavery. From that time on, he and his associate Abolitionists
had gone forth preaching their crusade against oppression, with hearts
of fire and tongues of lightning; and now the consummation was to be
realized of a President elected on the distinct ground of opposition to
the extension of slavery. For years the hatred of that institution had
been growing and gathering force. Whittier, Bryant, Lowell, Longfellow,
and others, had written the lyrics of liberty; the graphic pen of Mrs.
Stowe, in 'Uncle Tom's Cabin,' had painted the cruelties of the overseer
and the slaveholder; but the acts of slaveholders themselves did more to
promote the growth of anti-slavery than all other causes. The
persecutions of Abolitionists in the South; the harshness and cruelty
attending the execution of the fugitive laws; the brutality of Brooks in
knocking down, on the floor of the Senate, Charles Sumner, for words
spoken in debate: these and many other outrages had fired the hearts of
the people of the free States against this barbarous institution.
Beecher, Phillips, Channing, Sumner, and Seward, with their eloquence;
Chase with his logic; Lincoln, with his appeals to the principles of the
Declaration of Independence, and to the opinions of the founders of the
republic, his clear statements, his apt illustrations, and, above all,
his wise moderation,--all had swelled the voice of the people, which
found expression through the ballot-box, and which declared that slavery
should go no further."
Among the various reminiscences of the memorable Presidential campaign
of 1860, some of peculiar interest are furnished by Dr. Newton Bateman,
President of Knox College, Illinois. Dr. Bateman had known Lincoln since
1842; and from the year 1858, when Dr. Bateman was elected State
Superintendent of Public Instruction in Illinois, to the close of
Lincoln's residence in Springfield in 1861, they saw each other daily.
The testimony of so intimate an acquaintance, and one so well qualified
to judge the character and abilities of men, is of unusual value; and it
is worth noting that Dr. Bateman remarks that, while he was always an
admirer of Lincoln, yet the greatness of the man grew upon him as the
years pass by. In his professional and public work, says Dr. Bateman,
Lincoln not only proved himself equal to every emergency and to every
successive task, but made, from the outset, the impression upon the mind
of those who knew him of being in possession of great reserve force.
Perhaps the secret of this lies in part in the fact that he was
accustomed to ponder deeply upon the ultimate principles of government
and society, and strove to base his discussions upon the firm ground of
ethical truth. Says Dr. Bateman, "He was the saddest man I ever knew."
It was a necessity of his nature to be much alone; and he said that all
his serious work--by which he meant the process of getting down to the
bed-rock of first principles--must be done in solitude. Upon one
occasion he called Dr. Bateman to him, and spent more than two hours in
earnest conversation upon the most serious themes. At the close, Dr.
Bateman said: "I did not know, Mr. Lincoln, that it was your habit to
think so deeply upon this class of subjects." "Didn't you?" said Mr.
Lincoln. "I can almost say that I think of _nothing else_."
One day there entered Lincoln's room a tall Southerner, a Colonel
Somebody from Mississippi, whose eye's hard glitter spoke supercilious
distrust and whose stiff bearing betokened suppressed hostility. It was
beautiful, says Dr. Bateman, to see the cold flash of the Southerner's
dark eye yield to a warmer glow, and the haughty constraint melt into
frank good-nature, under the influence of Lincoln's words of simple
earnestness and unaffected cordiality. They got so far in half an hour
that Lincoln could say, in his hearty way: "Colonel, how tall are you?"
"Well, taller than you, Mr. Lincoln," replied the Mississippian. "You
are mistaken there," retorted Lincoln. "Dr. Bateman, will you measure
us?" "You will have to permit me to stand on a chair for that,"
responded the Doctor. So a big book was adjusted above the head of each,
and pencil marks made at the respective points of contact with the white
wall. Lincoln's altitude, as thus indicated, was a quarter inch above
that of the Colonel. "I knew it," said Lincoln. "They raise tall men
down in Mississippi, but you go home and tell your folks that _Old Abe
tops you a little_." The Colonel went away much mollified and impressed.
"My God!" said he to Dr. Bateman, as he went out. "There's going to be
war; but could my people know what I have learned within the last hour,
there need be no war."
During the Presidential campaign, the vote of the city of Springfield
was canvassed house by house. There were at that time twenty-three
clergymen residing in the city (not all pastors). All but three of these
signified their intention to vote _against_ Lincoln. This fact seemed to
grieve him somewhat. Soon after, in conversing upon the subject with Dr.
Bateman, he said, as if thinking aloud: "These gentlemen know that Judge
Douglas does not care a cent whether slavery in the territories is voted
up or voted down, for he has repeatedly told them so. They know that I
_do_ care." Then, drawing from a breast pocket a well-thumbed copy of
the New Testament, he added, after a pause, tapping upon the book with
his bony finger: "I do not so understand this book."
The poet Bryant was conspicuous among the prominent Eastern men who
favored Lincoln's nomination for the Presidency in 1860. He had
introduced Lincoln to the people of New York at the Cooper Institute
meeting of the previous winter, and was a firm believer in the Western
politician. After the convention Mr. Bryant wrote Lincoln a most
friendly and timely letter, full of good feeling and of wise advice.
Especially did he warn Lincoln to be cautious in committing himself to
any specific policy, or making pledges or engagements of any kind. Mr.
Bryant's letter contained much political wisdom, and was written in that
scholarly style for which he was distinguished. But it could not surpass
the simple dignity and grace of Lincoln's reply:
SPRINGFIELD, ILL., JUNE 28, 1860.
Please accept my thanks for the honor done me by your kind letter
of the 16th. I appreciate the danger against which you would guard
me; nor am I wanting in the _purpose_ to avoid it. I thank you for
the additional strength your words give me to maintain that
purpose.
Your friend and servant, A. LINCOLN.
Mr. A.J. Grover relates that about this time he met Lincoln, and had a
memorable conversation with him on the Fugitive Slave Law. Lincoln
detested this law, but argued that until it was declared
unconstitutional it must be obeyed. This was a short time after the
rescue of a fugitive slave at Ottawa, Illinois, by John Hossack, James
Stout, Major Campbell, and others, after Judge John D. Caton, acting as
United States Commissioner, had given his decision remanding him to the
custody of his alleged owner; and the rescuers were either in prison or
out on bail, awaiting their trials. Says Mr. Grover: "When Mr. Lincoln
had finished his argument I said, 'Constitutional or not, I will never
obey the Fugitive Slave Law. I would have done as Hossack and Stout and
Campbell did at Ottawa. I will never catch and return slaves in
obedience to any law or constitution. I do not believe a man's liberty
can be taken from him constitutionally without a trial by jury. I
believe the law to be not only unconstitutional, but most inhuman.'
'Oh,' said Mr. Lincoln, and I shall never forget his earnestness as he
emphasized it by striking his hand on his knee, 'it is ungodly! it is
ungodly! no doubt it is ungodly! but it is the law of the land, and we
must obey it as we find it.' I said: 'Mr. Lincoln, how often have you
sworn to support the Constitution? We propose to elect you President.
How would you look taking an oath to support what you declare is an
ungodly Constitution, and asking God to help you?' He felt the force of
the question, and, inclining his head forward and running his fingers
through his hair several times, seemed lost in reflection; then he
placed his hand upon my knee and said, very earnestly: 'Grover, it's no
use to be always _looking up these hard spots_!'" In the terrible years
then almost upon him, Lincoln found many such "hard spots" without
taking the trouble to look them up.
CHAPTER XIV
Lincoln Chosen President--The Election of 1860--The Waiting-time at
Springfield--A Deluge of Visitors--Various Impressions of the
President-elect--Some Queer Callers--Looking over the Situation
with Friends--Talks about the Cabinet--Thurlow Weed's Visit to
Springfield--The Serious Aspect of National Affairs--The South in
Rebellion--Treason at the National Capital--Lincoln's Farewell
Visit to his Mother--The Old Sign, "Lincoln & Herndon"--The Last
Day at Springfield--Farewell Speech to Friends and Neighbors--Off
for the Capital--The Journey to Washington--Receptions and Speeches
along the Route--At Cincinnati: A Hitherto Unpublished Speech by
Lincoln--At Cleveland: Personal Descriptions of Mr. and Mrs.
Lincoln--At New York City: Impressions of the New President--Perils
of the Journey--The Baltimore Plot--Change of Route--Arrival at the
Capital.
The Presidential campaign of 1860, with its excitements and struggles,
its "Wide-awake" clubs and boisterous enthusiasm throughout the North,
and its bitter and threatening character throughout the South, was at
last ended; and on the 6th of November Abraham Lincoln was elected
President of the United States.[A] His cause had been aided not a little
by an unexpected division in the Democratic party. Douglas had been
nominated for the Presidency by this party in its convention at
Baltimore on the 18th of June; but he was bitterly opposed by the
extreme slavery element of the Democracy, and this faction held a
convention of its own at Baltimore ten days later and nominated for
President John C. Breckenridge of Kentucky. There was still another
party, though a very minor one, in the field--the "Constitutional Union
Party," based chiefly on a desire to avoid the issue of slavery in
national politics--which on the 9th of May had nominated John Bell of
Tennessee as its candidate for the Presidency, with Edward Everett of
Massachusetts for the Vice-Presidency. There were thus four tickets in
the field--the Republican, including if not representing the
anti-slavery element in the North; the Democratic, which was pro-slavery
in its tendencies but had so far failed to satisfy the Southern
wing--now grown alarmed and restless at the growth and tendencies of the
Republican party--that this element nominated as a third ticket an
out-and-out pro-slavery candidate; and (fourth) a "Constitutional Union" ticket, representing a well-meant but fatuous desire to keep slavery out of national politics altogether. |
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