Fifty Years of Public Service / Personal Recollections of Shelby M. Cullom, Senior United States Senator from Illinois

by Shelby M. Cullom

I think I am justified in saying that after the earlier contests of the war had proven that great soldiers and great generals were not always great leaders, President Lincoln became the able director, the actual commander-in-chief of the forces of the United States. He planned and ordered the larger movements of the War, and he held the reins above and about all his armies, scarcely relaxing his watchful care for a moment,—until events demonstrated the wisdom with which he confided the military interests of our beloved country and the conduct of the war to Ulysses S. Grant.

Some of us remember with what persistence during the Winter of 1862 and 1863 many newspapers and a large share of the Northern people joined in the cry of "On to Richmond!" Censure and criticism ran riot even among Northern Republicans. In a three-line memorandum the President showed the fallacy of that outcry, when he wrote: "Our prime object is the enemy's army in front of us, and not with or about Richmond at all, unless it be incidental to the main object." At a later day he said to Hooker: "I think Lee's army, and not Richmond, is your sure objective point."

Modest and simple as he always was, never seeking power with inordinate ambition, simply that he might use power; still he was never afraid to assume responsibility when it was his duty to assume it.

I called on him one evening at the Soldiers' Home. We spent the evening together, and naturally we talked of the war. He discussed almost all of his generals, beginning with McClellan. At that time McClellan was down on the James, and Pope was in the saddle in Virginia. Pope, he feared, would be whipped, unless he could get more troops, and he was trying to get McClellan back in order to save Pope. At that time he had not yet lost his faith in McClellan, but he was complaining that McClellan was never ready for battle. After making all possible preparations, and with the enemy in front, he would overestimate the size of the enemy's force, and demand more troops. Yet Mr. Lincoln said that he would rather trust McClellan to get his army out of a tight place than any other general that he had.

After his election he invited his principal competitors for the nomination to enter his cabinet. He had not the slightest jealousy of any living man. He was not afraid, as some of our Presidents have been, to have his cabinet composed of the greatest men of his time. He was a bigger man than any of them, and no thought of jealousy ever entered his mind. Both Seward and Chase fancied they were greater men than Lincoln, and each of them, at the beginning at least, entertained the idea that on him rested the responsibility of the administration. Seward felt that he should have been the nominee of his party. Chase felt perfectly sure that he, and not Lincoln, should have been President.

Before many months had passed, Seward was compelled to acknowledge that Mr. Lincoln was the superior of any of them, as he expressed it in a letter to his wife. He soon became one of the most devoted friends and loyal supporters of the President. The publication of the diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy from 1861 to 1865, shows that Mr. Lincoln was the leader of them all, and was in fact the real head of every department of his administration.

Chase was an able man, and loyal to the Union; but, unlike Seward, he was never loyal to the President personally, and was constantly plotting in his own interest to supplant Lincoln as the nominee of his party in 1864,—a most reprehensible course on the part of a cabinet officer. This did not give concern to Mr. Lincoln in the slightest degree. He cared very little what Mr. Chase said or thought of him personally, so long as he was doing his duty as Secretary of the Treasury.

I was in Washington the latter part of February, 1864, before he was nominated the second time. I happened to hear of the Pomeroy letter in behalf of Mr. Chase, and I learned with amazement that Chase was conspiring with his friends to secure the nomination for the Presidency, and was untrue and unloyal to his chief. I felt justly indignant. I saw Mr. Lincoln and talked with him about it with great earnestness. I told him that Chase should be turned out. He answered by saying: "Let him alone; he can do no more harm in here than he can outside."

If things did not go to suit him, Chase was in the habit of tendering his resignation every few days. It was not accepted; but he offered it once too often, and, very much to his surprise and chagrin, it was promptly accepted; and Chase was relegated to private life, where he belonged, and where he should have remained.

Chief Justice Taney passed away unmourned, the most pathetic and desolate figure in the Civil War, with his long, faithful, and distinguished service on the bench forgotten. Chase's friends, and Chase himself, at once commenced overtures of friendship toward Mr. Lincoln, in the interest, solely, of securing Chase's appointment as Chief Justice. Considerable pressure was brought to bear in behalf of Chase. The President would give no intimation as to what he intended to do, although I myself believe that he all the time intended appointing him to the vacant position, and that the so- called pressure on the part of Sumner and other radicals had little, if any, influence with him.