Lincoln, the Politician

by T. Aaron Levy

He warred against slavery not the slave holder. He took full account of the conditions leading to the ownership of human property. He realized that it was a legacy of a former age, that it was not a product of present and individual responsibility, that it was a national fault not a private one, that the slave holder was the victim of the system not the cause. So he would not have the change come with a rush lest it might not be abiding. He was willing to wait. Lincoln knew that progress is a slow and labored process and that haste is often the companion of reaction. He would awaken no just and general resentment, a resentment that still lingers in the hearts of men from a war-won emancipation. It would have been well for the North and South had this measure of gradual compensated emancipation have become the settled policy of the nation. The most cankerous conflict of the age might have been spared and the problems resulting therefrom less perplexing. Like a wise surgeon, he dared an early operation rather than delay the necessity of a more drastic remedy. When passion forged to the front as the guide, when North and South had ample occasion to dwell on mutual wrongs, when the Constitution of the Union ceased to be the prevailing measure of the individual and general welfare, the days of peace were being numbered. Lincoln realized that compromise is only available when wisely adapted to opposing forces at the fitting time.

Thus, there stood forth in Congress a man who subdued his passion for the Declaration of Independence and yet who was not willing that the down-trodden should eternally remain in the darkness of vicarious government. He knew that slavery could not always dwell in the seat of government, that the time would come when there would be no human chattel on American soil. Still, Lincoln did not shift to others the whole burden of bringing the day to pass, but took his stand against the iniquity of human bondage with sublime wisdom. He tempered but did not dull his sense of justice. He struck a second blow at the national evil, a sign that he still was true to his vow at New Orleans and his protest at Vandalia.

Like other legislators, Lincoln was obliged to deal with the issue of handing out offices as party spoil. Trade and industry were still in their infancy and had not yet begun to attract the activity of the aspiring. The highway to general distinction and to honor was largely that of public office. Hence, there ensued, in the words of Lincoln, a "wriggle and struggle for office" and an effort to find "a way to live without work."[259]

The attitude of Lincoln in days when the Jackson theory was in its full vigor is noteworthy. As the sole Whig representative, beside Colonel Baker, Lincoln asked, in 1849, to be heard on all appointments in Illinois. His remarkable action is seen in the following letter: "Mr. Bond I know to be personally every way worthy of the office; and he is very numerously and most respectably recommended. His papers I send to you; and I solicit for his claims a full and fair consideration. Having said this much, I add that in my individual judgment the appointment of Mr. Thomas would be better.... I add that from personal knowledge I consider Mr. Bond every way worthy of the office, and qualified to fill it. Holding the individual opinion that the appointment of a different gentleman would be better, I ask especial attention and consideration for his claim, and for the opinions expressed in his favor by those over whom I can claim no superiority."[260] As Congressman he selected a postman of a village with the same precision that he later did a war minister.

The activity of Lincoln in securing the nomination and election of Taylor commanded the regard of some leading politicians. They advised his candidacy for the General Land Office. Lincoln was poorly equipped to seek the favor of those dispensing patronage. He was not gifted with assiduity or forwardness so often essential to bearing away the palm. Seldom has a hunter for alluring official service so gently put obstacles in the way of his success. Though it is claimed he was even eager for the prize, he was careful to a nicety, to avoid a false position, while others were bending every effort and using every means at their disposal.

To several friends he wrote the following unique letter: "Some months since I gave my word to secure the appointment to that office of Mr. Cyrus Edwards, if in my power, in a case of a vacancy; and more recently I stipulated with Colonel Baker that if Mr. Edwards and Colonel J. L. D. Morrison could arrange with each other for one of them to withdraw, we would jointly recommend the other. In relation to these pledges, I must not only be chaste, but above suspicion. If the office shall be tendered to me, I must be permitted to say: 'Give it to Mr. Edwards, or if so agreed by them, to Colonel Morrison, and I decline it; if not, I accept.' With this understanding you are at liberty to procure me the offer of the appointment if you can; and I shall feel complimented by your effort, and still more by its success."[261]

But even his patience gave way when Justin Butterfield, a late opponent of Taylor, was considered for the place. He burst forth with the statement that if anything should be given to the State, it should be so given as to gratify friends, and to stimulate them to future exertions, and that it would mortify him deeply if General Taylor's administration should trample all his wishes in the dust merely to gratify friends of Clay.[262]

It was not surprising that the laggard procedure of Lincoln lost him this place. Political offices, like opportunity, do not wait long. And so it came to pass that the former opponent of the President was selected in the place of one who was his earnest advocate from the beginning. Though not backward in his claim for an elective office, he was still little inclined to play the servile part in an appointive position. He was willing enough to submit to the democratic judgment of his fellow men when he was given a public opportunity to present his claim, but he timidly shrank from a personal solicitation of a Presidential favor.

His final letter on the history of this affair is rather tinged with another sorrow. Mr. Edwards being offended with him, he wrote that the better part of one's life consisted of his friendships; that at a word he could have had the office any time before the Department was committed to Mr. Butterfield; and that word he forbore to speak chiefly for Mr. Edwards' sake,—losing the office that he might gain it, and that to lose his friendship, by the effort for him would oppress him very much, were he not sustained by the utmost consciousness of rectitude.[263]