Abraham Lincoln and the Abolition of Slavery in the United States

by Charles Godfrey Leland

Lincoln was now approaching with great rapidity the summit of his wishes. On May 9th and 10th the Republican State Convention met at Springfield for the purpose of nominating a candidate for the Presidency, and it is said that Lincoln did not appear to have had any idea that any business relative to himself was to be transacted. For it is unquestionable that, while very ambitious, he was at the same time remarkably modest. When he went to lecture in New York, and the press reporters asked him for “slips,” or copies of his speech, he was astonished, not feeling sure whether the newspapers would care to publish it. At this Convention, he was “sitting on his heels” in a back part of the room, and the Governor of Illinois, as soon as the meeting was organised, rose and said—“I am informed that a distinguished citizen of Illinois, and one whom Illinois will ever delight to honour, is present, and I wish to move that this body invite him to a seat on the stand.” And, pausing, he exclaimed, “Abraham Lincoln.” There was tremendous applause, and the mob seizing Lincoln, raised him in their arms, and bore him, sturdily resisting, to the platform. A gentleman who was present said—“I then thought him one of the most diffident and worst-plagued men I ever saw.” The next proceeding was most amusing and characteristic, it being the entrance of “Old John Hanks,” with two fence-rails bearing the inscription—Two Rails from a lot made by Abraham Lincoln and John Hanks in the Sangamon bottom in the year 1830. The end was that Lincoln was the declared candidate of his state for the Presidency.

But there were other candidates from other states, and at the great Convention in Chicago, on May 16th, there was as fierce intriguing and as much shrewdness shown as ever attended the election of a Pope. After publishing the “platform,” or declaration of the principles of the Republican party—which was in the main a stern denunciation of all further extension of slavery—with a declaration in favour of protection, the rights of foreign citizens, and a Pacific railroad, the Convention proceeded to the main business. It was soon apparent that the real strife lay between W. H. Seward, of New York, and Abraham Lincoln. It would avail little to expose all the influences of trickery and enmity resorted to by the friends of either candidate on this occasion—suffice it to say that, eventually, Lincoln received the nomination, which was the prelude to the most eventful election ever witnessed in America. What followed has been well described by Lamon.

“All that day, and all the day previous, Mr. Lincoln was at Springfield, trying to behave as usual, but watching, with nervous anxiety, the proceedings of the Convention as they were reported by telegraph. On both days he played a great deal at fives in a ball-alley. It is probable that he took this physical mode of working off or keeping down the excitement that threatened to possess him. About nine o’clock in the morning, Mr. Lincoln came to the office of Lincoln and Herndon. Mr. Baker entered, with a telegram which said the names of the candidates had been announced, and that Mr. Lincoln’s had been received with more applause than any other. When the news of the first ballot came over the wire, it was apparent to all present that Mr. Lincoln thought it very favourable. He believed if Mr. Seward failed to get the nomination, or to come very near it, on the first ballot, he would fail altogether. Presently, news of the second ballot arrived, and then Mr. Lincoln showed by his manner that he considered the contest no longer doubtful. ‘I’ve got him,’ said he. When the decisive despatch at length arrived, there was great commotion. Mr. Lincoln seemed to be calm, but a close observer could detect in his countenance the indications of deep emotion. In the meantime, cheers for Lincoln swelled up from the streets, and began to be heard through the town. Some one remarked, ‘Mr. Lincoln, I suppose now we will soon have a book containing your life.’ ‘There is not much,’ he replied, ‘in my past life about which to write a book, as it seems to me.’ Having received the hearty congratulations of the company in the office, he descended to the street, where he was immediately surrounded by Irish and American citizens; and, so long as he was willing to receive it, there was great hand-shaking and felicitating. ‘Gentlemen,’ said the great man, with a happy twinkle in his eye, ‘you had better come up and shake my hand while you can; honours elevate some men, you know.’ But he soon bethought him of a person who was of more importance to him than all this crowd. Looking towards his house, he said—‘Well, gentlemen, there is a little short woman at our house who is probably more interested in this despatch than I am; and, if you will excuse me, I will take it up and let her see it.’”

The division caused by Douglas in the Democratic party to further his own personal ambition, utterly destroyed its power for a long time. The result was a division—one convention nominating Judge Douglas for the Presidency, with Mr. Johnson, of Georgia, as Vice-President; and the other, John C. Breckinridge, of Kentucky, with Joseph Lane, of Oregon, for the second office. Still another party, the Constitutional Union party, nominated John Bell, of Tennessee, and Edward Everett, of Massachusetts, for President and Vice-President. Thus there were four rival armies in the political field, soon to be merged into two in real strife. On Nov. 6th, 1860, Abraham Lincoln was elected President of the United States, receiving 1,857,610 votes; Douglas had 1,291,574; Breckinridge, 850,082; Bell, 646,124. Of all the votes really cast, there was a majority of 930,170 against Lincoln—a fact which was afterwards continually urged by the Southern party, which called him the Minority President. But when the electors who are chosen to elect the President met, they gave Lincoln 180 votes; Breckinridge, 72; Bell, 30; while Douglas, who might, beyond question, have been the successful candidate had he been less crafty, received only 12. The strife between him and Lincoln had been like that between the giant and the hero in the Norse mythology, wherein the two gave to each other riddles, on the successful answers to which their lives depended. Judge Douglas strove to entrap Lincoln with a long series of questions which were easily eluded, but one was demanded of the questioner himself, and the answer he gave to it proved his destruction.

The immediate result of Lincoln’s election was such a rush of hungry politicians seeking office as had never before been witnessed. As every appointment in the United States, from the smallest post-office to a Secretaryship, is in the direct gift of the President, the newly-elected found himself attacked by thousands of place-hunters, ready to prove that they were the most deserving men in the world for reward; and if they did not, as “Artemus Ward” declares, come down the chimneys of the White House to interview him, they at least besieged him with such pertinacity, and made him so thoroughly wretched, that he is said to have at last replied to one man who insisted that it was really to his exertions that the President owed his election—“If that be so, I wonder you are not ashamed to look me in the face for getting me into such an abominable situation.”

From his own good nature, and from a sincere desire to really deserve his popular name of Honest Old Abe, Lincoln determined to appoint the best men to office, irrespective of party. Hoping against hope to preserve the Union, he would have given place in his Cabinet to Southern Democrats as well as to Northern Republicans. But as soon as it was understood that he was elected, and that the country would have a President opposed to the extension of slavery, the South began to prepare to leave the Union, and for war. It was in vain that Lincoln and the great majority of his party made it clear as possible that, rather than see the country destroyed by war and by disunion, they would leave slavery as it was. This did not suit the views of the “rule-or-ruin” party of the South; and as secession from the Federal Union became a fixed fact, their entire press and all their politicians declared that their object was not merely to build up a Southern Confederacy, but to legislate so as to destroy the industry of the North, and break the old Union into a thousand conflicting independent governments. Therefore, Lincoln, in intending to offer seats in the Cabinet to Alexander H. Stephens, James Guthrie, of Kentucky, and John A. Gilmer, of North Carolina, made—if sincere—a great mistake, though one in every way creditable to his heart and his courtesy. The truth was, that the South had for four years unanimously determined to secede, and was actually seceding; while the North, which had gone beyond the extreme limits of endurance and of justice itself to conciliate the South, could not believe that fellow-countrymen and brothers seriously intended war. For it was predetermined and announced by the Southern press that, unless the Federal Government would make concessions beyond all reason, and put itself in the position of a disgraced and conquered state, there must be war.

As the terrible darkness began to gather, and the storm-signals to appear, Lincoln sought for temporary relief in visiting his stepmother and other old friends and relatives in Coles County. The meeting with her whom he had always regarded as his mother was very touching; it was the more affecting because she, to whom he was the dearest on earth, was under an impression, which time rendered prophetic, that he would, as President, be assassinated. This anticipation spread among his friends, who vied with one another in gloomy suggestions of many forms of murder—while one very zealous prophet, who had fixed on poison as the means by which Lincoln would die, urged him to take as a cook from home “one among his own female friends.”

CHAPTER VI.

A Suspected Conspiracy—Lincoln’s Departure for Washington—His Speeches at Springfield and on the road to the National Capital—Breaking out of the Rebellion—Treachery of President Buchanan—Treason in the Cabinet—Jefferson Davis’s Message—Threats of Massacre and Ruin to the North—Southern Sympathisers—Lincoln’s Inaugural Address—The Cabinet—The Days of Doubt and of Darkness.

It was unfortunate for Lincoln that he listened to the predictions of his alarmed friends. So generally did the idea prevail that an effort would be made to kill him on his way to Washington, that a few fellows of the lower class in Baltimore, headed by a barber named Ferrandina, thinking to gain a little notoriety—as they actually did get some money from Southern sympathisers—gave out that they intended to murder Mr. Lincoln on his journey to Washington. Immediately a number of detectives was set to work; and as everybody seemed to wish to find a plot, a plot was found, or imagined, and Lincoln was persuaded to pass privately and disguised on a special train from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, to Washington, where he arrived February 23rd, 1861. Before leaving Springfield, he addressed his friends at the moment of parting, at the railway station, in a speech of impressive simplicity.