Abraham Lincoln and the Abolition of Slavery in the United States

by Charles Godfrey Leland

It is certain that every man who knew anything of the inner workings of American politics, or of Cabinet secrets, during the war, will testify that no President ever did so much himself, and relied as little on others, as Lincoln. The most important matters were decided by him alone. He would listen to his Cabinet, or to anybody, and shrewdly avail himself of information or of ideas, but no human being ever had the slightest personal influence on him. Others might look up the decisions and precedents, or suggest the legal axioms for him, but he invariably managed the case, though with all courtesy and deference to his diplomatic junior counsel. He was brought every day into serious argument with the wisest, shrewdest, and most experienced men, both foreign and American, but his own intelligence invariably gave him the advantage. And it is not remarkable that the man who had been too much for Judge Douglas should hold his own with any one. While he was President, his wonderful powers of readily acquiring the details of any subject were thoroughly tested, and as President, he perfected the art of dealing with men. One of his French biographers, amazed at the constantly occurring proofs of his personal influence, assures his readers that, “during the war, Lincoln showed himself an organiser of the first class. A new Carnot, he created armies by land and navies by sea, raised militia, appointed generals, directed public affairs, defended them by law, and overthrew the art of maritime war by building and launching his terrible monitors. He showed himself a finished diplomatist, and protected the interests of every one. His success attested the mutual confidence of people and President in their common patriotism. The emancipation of the slaves crowned his grand policy.” If some of these details appear slightly exaggerated, it must be borne in mind that all this and more appears to be literally true to any foreigner who, in studying Lincoln’s life, learns what a prodigious amount of work was executed by him, and to what a degree he impressed his own mind on everything. He either made a shrewd remark or told a story with every signature to any remarkable paper, and from that day the document, the deed, and the story were all remembered in common.

On the 1st February, 1864, the President issued an order for a draft for 500,000 men, to serve for three years or during the war, and (March 14th) again for 200,000 men for service in the army and navy. On the 26th February, 1864, General Grant, in the words of the President, received “the expression of the nation’s approbation for what he had done, and its reliance on him for what remained to do in the existing great struggle,” by being appointed Lieutenant-General of the army of the United States.[28] It was owing to Mr. Lincoln that General Grant received the full direction of military affairs, limited by no annoying conditions. He at once entered on a vigorous course of action. “The armies of Eastern Tennessee and Virginia,” says Brockett, “were heavily increased by new levies, and by an effective system of concentration; and from the Pacific to the Mississippi it soon became evident that, under the inspiration of a great controlling mind, everything was being placed in condition for dealing a last effective blow at the already tottering Confederacy.” The plan was that Sherman should take Atlanta, Georgia, and then, in succession, Savannah, Columbia, Charleston, Wilmington, and then join Grant. Thomas was to remain in the South-West to engage with Hood and Johnston, while Grant, with his Lieutenants, Meade, Sheridan, and Hancock, were to subdue General Lee and capture Richmond, the rebel capital.

Lincoln visiting the Army.

But, notwithstanding the confidence of the country in General Grant, and the degree to which the Confederacy had been compressed by the victories of 1863, the summer of 1864 was the gloomiest period of the war since the dark days of 1862. In spite of all that had been done, it seemed as if the war would never end. The Croakers, whether Union-men or Copperheads,[29] made the world miserable by their complaints. And it is certain that, in the words of General Badeau, “the political and the military situation of affairs were equally grave. The rebellion had assumed proportions that transcend comparison. The Southern people seemed all swept into the current, and whatever dissent had originally existed among them, was long since, to outside apprehension, swallowed up in the maelstrom of events. The Southern snake, if scotched, was not killed, and seemed to have lost none of its vitality. In the Eastern theatre of war, no real progress had been made during three disastrous years. Gettysburg had saved Philadelphia and Washington, but even this victory had not resulted in the destruction of Lee; for in the succeeding January, the rebel chief, with undiminished legions and audacity, still lay closer to the national capital than to Richmond, and Washington was in nearly as great danger as before the first Bull Run.” General Grant’s first steps, though not failures, did little to encourage the North. It is true that, advancing on the 3rd of May, and fighting terribly every step from the Rapidan to the James, he “had indeed flanked Lee’s army from one position after another, until he found himself, by the 1st June, before Richmond—but he had lost 100,000 men! Here the enemy stood fast at bay.” The country promptly made up his immense losses; but by this time there was a vacant chair in almost every household, and the weary of waiting exclaimed every hour, “How long, O Lord! how long?”

Two things, however, were contributing at this time to cheer the North. The lavish and extravagant manner in which the Government gave out contracts to support its immense army, and the liberality with which it was fed, clothed, and paid, though utterly reprehensible from an economical point of view, had at least the good effect of stimulating manufactures and industry. In the gloomiest days of 1861-2, when landlords were glad to induce respectable tenants to occupy their houses rent-free, and poverty stared us all in the face, the writer had predicted, in the “Knickerbocker” and “Continental” Magazines, that, in a short time, the war would bring to the manufacturing North such a period of prosperity as it had never experienced, while in the South there would be a corresponding wretchedness. The prediction, which was laughed at, was fulfilled to the letter. Before the end of the war, there was a blue army coat not only on every soldier, but on almost every other man in America, for the rebels clad themselves from our battle-fields, and, in some mysterious manner, immense quantities of army stores found their way into civilian hands. All over the country there was heard not only the busy hum of factories, but the sound of the hammer, as new buildings were added to them. Paper-money was abundant, and speculation ran riot. All this made a grievous debt; but it is certain that the country got its money’s worth in confidence and prosperity. When, however, despite this, people began to be downcast, certain clergymen, with all the women, organised on an immense scale a Sanitary Commission, the object of which was to contribute comforts to the soldiers in the field. To aid this benevolent scheme, enormous “Sanitary Fairs” were held in the large cities, and these were carried out in such a way that everybody was induced to contribute money or personal exertions in their aid. These fairs, in mere magnitude, were almost like the colossal Expositions with which the world has become familiar, but were more varied as regards entertainment. That of Philadelphia was the Great Central Sanitary Fair, where Mr. Lincoln and his wife were present, on the 16th of June, 1864. Here I saw Mr. Lincoln for the first time. The impression which he made on me was that of an American who is reverting to the Red Indian type—a very common thing, indeed, in the South-West among pure-blooded whites. His brown complexion and high cheek-bones were very Indian. And, like the Indian chiefs, he soon proved that he had the gift of oratory when he addressed the multitude in these words—

“I suppose that this toast is intended to open the way for me to say something. War at the best is terrible, and this of ours, in its magnitude and duration, is one of the most terrible the world has ever known. It has destroyed property, destroyed life, and ruined homes. It has produced a national debt and a taxation unprecedented in the history of the country. It has caused mourning among us until the heavens may almost be said to be hung in black. And yet it continues. It has had accompaniments not before known in the history of the world—I mean the Sanitary and Christian Commissions with their labours for the relief of the soldiers, and these fairs, first begun at Chicago, and next held in Boston, Cincinnati, and other cities. The motives and objects that lie at the bottom of them are worthy of the most that we can do for the soldier who goes to fight the battles of his country. From the tender hand of woman, very much is done for the soldier, continually reminding him of the care and thought for him at home. The knowledge that he is not forgotten is grateful to his heart. Another view of these institutions is worthy of thought. They are voluntary contributions, giving proof that the national resources are not at all exhausted, and that the national patriotism will sustain us through all. It is a pertinent question, When is this war to end? I do not wish to name a day when it will end, lest the end should not come at any given time. We accepted this war, and did not begin it. We accepted it for an object, and when that object is accomplished, the war will end; and I hope to God that it never will end until that object is accomplished. Speaking of the present campaign, General Grant is reported to have said, ‘I am going to fight it out on this line if it takes all summer.’ This war has taken three years; it was begun, or accepted, upon the line of restoring the national authority over the whole national domain; and for the American people, as far as my knowledge enables me to speak, I say we are going through on this line if it takes three years more. I have not been in the habit of making predictions in regard to the war, but now I am almost tempted to hazard one. I will. It is that Grant is this evening in a position, with Meade, and Hancock of Pennsylvania, whence he can never be dislodged by the enemy until Richmond is taken. If I shall discover that General Grant may be greatly facilitated in the capture of Richmond by briefly pouring to him a large number of armed men at the briefest notice, will you go? (Cries of “Yes.”) Will you march on with him? (Cries of “Yes, yes.”) Then I shall call upon you when it is necessary. Stand ready, for I am waiting for the chance.”

The hint given in this speech was better understood when, during the next month, a call was made for 500,000 more men. These Sanitary Fairs, and the presence of Mr. Lincoln, greatly revived the spirits of the Union party. They had learned by this time that their leader was not the vulgar Boor, Ape, or Gorilla which the Southern and Democratic press persisted to the last in calling him, but a great, kind-hearted man, whose sympathy for their sorrows was only surpassed by the genius with which he led them out of their troubles. The writer once observed of Dr. George M‘Clellan, father of the General, that while no surgeon in America equalled him in coolness and daring in performing the most dangerous operations, no woman could show more pity or feeling than he would in binding up a child’s cut finger; and, in like manner, Abraham Lincoln, while calmly dealing at one time with the ghastly wounds of his country, never failed to tenderly aid and pity the lesser wounds of individuals.

But if the North was at this season in sorrow, those in the South had much greater cause to be so, and they all deserved great credit for the unflinching manner in which they endured their privations. From the very beginning, they had wanted many comforts; they were soon without the necessaries of civilised life. They manufactured almost nothing, and for such goods as came in by blockade-running enormous prices were paid. The upper class, who had made the war, were dependent on their servants to a degree which is seldom equalled in Europe; and, like those ants which require ant-slaves to feed them, and to which their Richmond “sociologists” had pointed as a natural example, they began to starve as their sable attendants took unto themselves the wings of Freedom and flew away. In their army, desertion and straggling were so common, that the rebel Secretary of War reported that the effective force was not more than half the men whose names appeared on the rolls. Their paper-money depreciated to one-twentieth its nominal value. There were great failures of crops in the South; the Government made constant seizures of provisions and cattle; and as the war had been confined to their own territory, the population were harried by both friend and foe.

Events were now in progress which were destined to utterly ruin the Confederacy. These were the gigantic Northern incursions, which, whether successful or not in their strategic aims, exhausted the country, and set the slaves free by thousands. Early in February, General Gillmore’s attempt to establish Union government in Florida had failed. So, too, did Sherman, proceeding from Vicksburg, and Smith, leaving Memphis, fail in their plan of effecting a junction, although the destruction which they caused in the enemy’s country was enormous. In the same month, Kilpatrick made a raid upon Richmond, which was eminently successful as regarded destroying railways and canals. In March, General Banks undertook an expedition to the Red River, of which it may be briefly said that he inflicted much damage, but received more. In April, Fort Pillow, on the Mississippi, held by the Union General Boyd, was treacherously captured by the rebel General Forrest, by means of a flag of truce. After the garrison of 300 white men and 350 black soldiers, with many women and children, had formally surrendered and given up their arms, a horrible scene of indiscriminate murder ensued. A committee of investigation, ordered by Congress, reported that “men, women, and little children were deliberately shot down and hacked to pieces with sabres. Officers and men seemed to vie with each other in the devilish work. They entered the hospitals and butchered the sick. Men were nailed by their hands to the floors and sides of buildings, and then the buildings set on fire.” Some negroes escaped by feigning death, and by digging out from the thin covering of earth thrown over them for burial. The rebel press exulted over these barbarities, pleading the terrible irritation which the South felt at finding her own slaves armed against her. Investigation proved that this horrible massacre was in pursuance of a pre-conceived policy, which had been deliberately adopted in the hope of frightening out of the Union service not only negroes, but loyal white Southerners. From the beginning of the war, the rebels were strangely persuaded that they had the privilege of inflicting severities which should not be retaliated upon them. Thus at Charleston, in order to check the destructive fire of the Union guns, they placed Northern officers in chains within reach of the shells, and complacently notified our forces that they had done so. Of course an equal number of rebel officers of equal rank were at once exposed to the Confederate fire, and this step, which resulted in stopping such an inhuman means of defence, was regarded with great indignation by the South. But it was no unusual thing with rebels to kill helpless captives. A horrible instance occurred (April 20th, 1864) at the capture of Fort Plymouth, N. C., where white and black troops were murdered in cold blood after surrendering. These deeds filled the country with horror, and Mr. Lincoln, who was “deeply touched,” publicly avowed retaliation, which he never inflicted.