Murat Halstead, "Conventions of 1860," p. 138.
Personal friends, grieved that he should feel offended, and doubly sorry that the general harmony should be marred by even a single dissent, followed Mr. Giddings, and sought to change his purpose. While thus persuading him, the discussion had passed to the second resolution, when George William Curtis, of New York, seized the chance to renew substantially Mr. Giddings's amendment. There were new objections, but Mr. Curtis swept them away with a captivating burst of oratory. "I have to ask this convention," said he, "whether they are prepared to go upon the record before the country as voting down the words of the Declaration of Independence?... I rise simply to ask gentlemen to think well before, upon the free prairies of the West, in the summer of 1860, they dare to wince and quail before the assertions of the men in Philadelphia, in 1776—before they dare to shrink from repeating the words that these great men enunciated." "This was a strong appeal, and took the convention by storm," wrote a recording journalist. A new vote formally embodied this portion of the Declaration of Independence in the Republican platform; and Mr. Giddings, overjoyed at his triumph, had already returned to his seat when the platform as a whole was adopted with repeated and renewed shouts of applause that seemed to shake the wigwam.
The third day of the convention (Friday, May 18) found the doors besieged by an excited multitude. The preliminary business was disposed of,—the platform was made,—and every one knew the balloting would begin. The New York delegation felt assured of Seward's triumph, and made an effort to have its march to the convention, with banners and music, unusually full and imposing. It proved a costly display; for while the New York "irregulars" were parading the streets, the Illinoisans were filling the wigwam: when the Seward procession arrived, there was little room left except the reserved seats for the delegates. New York deceived itself in another respect: it counted on the full New England strength, whereas more than half of it had already resolved to cast its vote elsewhere. This defection in advance virtually insured Seward's defeat. New York and the extreme North-west were not sufficiently strong to nominate him, and in the nature of things he could not hope for much help from the conservative middle and border States. But this calculation could not as yet be so accurately made. Caucusing was active up to the very hour when the convention met, and many delegations went to the wigwam with no definite programme beyond the first ballot.
What pen shall adequately describe this vast audience of ten thousand souls? the low, wavelike roar of its ordinary conversation; the rolling cheers that greeted the entrance of popular favorites; the solemn hush which fell upon it during the opening prayer? There was just enough of some unexpected preliminary wrangle and delay to arouse the full impatience of both convention and spectators; but at length the names of candidates were announced. This ceremony was still in its simplicity. The more recent custom of short dramatic speeches from conspicuous and popular orators to serve as electrifying preludes had not yet been invented. "I take the liberty," said Mr. Evarts, of New York, "to name as a candidate to be nominated by this convention for the office of President of the United States, "William H. Seward." "I desire," followed Mr. Judd, "on behalf of the delegation from Illinois, to put in nomination as a candidate for President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln of Illinois." Then came the usual succession of possible and alternative aspirants who were to be complimented by the first votes of their States—"William L. Dayton, Simon Cameron, Salmon P. Chase, Edward Bates, Jacob Collamer, John McLean. The fifteen minutes required by this formality had already indisputably marked out and set apart the real contestants. The "complimentary" statesmen were lustily cheered by their respective State delegations; but at the names of Seward and Lincoln the whole wigwam seemed to respond together.
Halstead, "Conventions of 1860," p. 145.
There is something irresistibly exciting in the united voice of a great crowd. For a moment the struggle appeared to resolve itself into a contest of throats and lungs. Indiana seconded the nomination of Lincoln, and the applause was deafening. Michigan seconded the nomination of Seward; the New York delegation rose en masse, waved their hats, and joined the galleries in a shout which doubled the volume of any yet given. Then a portion of the Ohio delegates once more seconded Lincoln, and his adherents, feeling themselves put upon their mettle, made an effort. "I thought the Seward yell could not be surpassed," wrote a spectator; "but the Lincoln boys were clearly ahead, and, feeling their victory, as there was a lull in the storm, took deep breaths all round, and gave a concentrated shriek that was positively awful, and accompanied it with stamping that made every plank and pillar in the building quiver."
The tumult gradually died away, and balloting began. Here we may note another contrast. The Charleston Convention was reactionary and exclusive; it followed the two-thirds rule. The Chicago Convention was progressive and liberal; it adopted majority rule. Liberal even beyond this, it admitted the Territories and border slave-States, containing only a minority or fraction of Republican sentiment, to seats and to votes. It was throwing a drag-net for success. Under different circumstances, these sentimental delegations might have become powerful in intrigue; but dominated as they were by deeper political forces, they afforded no distinct advantage to either candidate.[6] ]
Though it was not expected to be decisive, the first ballot foreshadowed accurately the final result. The "complimentary" candidates received the tribute of admiration from their respective States. Vermont voted for Collamer, and New Jersey for Dayton, each solid[7]. Pennsylvania's compliment to Cameron was shorn of six votes, four of which went at once for Lincoln. Ohio divided her compliment, 34 for Chase, 4 for McLean, and at once gave Lincoln her 8 remaining votes. Missouri voted solid for her candidate, Bates, who also received a scattering tribute from other delegations. But all these compliments were of little avail to their recipients, for far above each towered the aggregates of the leading candidates: Seward, 173½; Lincoln, 102.[8] ]
In the groundswell of suppressed excitement which pervaded the convention there was no time to analyze this vote; nevertheless, delegates and spectators felt the full force of its premonition; to all who desired the defeat of Seward it pointed out the winning man with, unerring certainty. Another little wrangle over some disputed and protesting delegate made the audience almost furious at the delay, and "Call the roll!" sounded from a thousand throats.
A second ballot was begun at last, and, obeying a force as sure as the law of gravitation, the former complimentary votes came rushing to Lincoln. The whole 10 votes of Collamer, 44 from Cameron, 6 from Chase and McLean, were now cast for him, followed by a scatter of additions along the roll-call. In this ballot Lincoln gained 79 votes, Seward only 11. The faces of the New York delegation whitened as the balloting progressed and the torrent of Lincoln's popularity became a river. The result of the second ballot was: Seward, 184½; Lincoln, 181; scattering, 99½[9]. When the vote of Lincoln was announced, there was a tremendous burst of applause, which the chairman prudently but with difficulty controlled and silenced.