No inaugural address before or since has been awaited with so much anxiety and interest. It was expected that in this, his first official utterance, the new President would outline the policy of his administration and determine whether the country should have war or peace. Thousands of men were eager for an intimation of what he intended to say, and an accurate forecast was worth millions of dollars to the stock market; but not a word nor a thought leaked out. The document was written with Lincoln's own hand upon the backs of envelopes and other scraps of paper from time to time as ideas suggested themselves and he determined what to say, and finally, as the time of his departure from Springfield approached, he put them together in a little bare room in a business block over the store of his brother-in-law, where he was accustomed to retire when he wanted to be alone or had to do writing of importance. Only two persons knew of this retreat.
When the manuscript was finished it was intrusted to Mr. William H. Bailhache, editor of the Illinois State Journal, who put it in type himself, assisted by a veteran compositor, also an old friend of Lincoln. After taking a dozen proof-slips, the type was distributed. Judge David Davis and one or two other friends read it in Springfield. Orville H. Browning read it on the journey to Washington, and upon the morning of his arrival at the capital, a copy was handed to Mr. Seward, who spent an entire Sunday revising it. His amendments and suggestions were almost as voluminous as the original document. Lincoln adopted either in whole or in part nearly all of them, except where they affected the style or changed the policy indicated. The most important changes made were to modify the declaration of his intentions to recover and hold the fortifications and property which had been seized by the secessionists and to speak of the exercise of power in that direction with some ambiguity and a hint at forbearance.
During all his life at the White House Lincoln took an active part in political affairs. He never forgot that he was the President of the whole country; but at the same time he considered it necessary to its salvation to establish the Republican party upon a firm and permanent basis, and for that purpose a more complete and thorough organization was necessary. He knew the value of an organization of trained politicians and of political discipline as well as any man in public life. He was thoroughly a practical politician and as skilful in execution as he was in planning. He knew how to manipulate men and direct movements as well as Thurlow Weed, and no man in the Cabinet or in either House of Congress was more adroit in accomplishing his purposes. He never failed to carry through Congress any measure that he considered important; he never failed to obtain the confirmation of a nominee. He used the patronage of his office to strengthen the Republican party because he believed it essential to the salvation of his country. He possessed a political tact so subtle and masterful that it enabled him to reconcile rivalries and enemies, to unite conflicting purposes, and to bring to his support men of implacable hostility, who never realized his purpose until his object was accomplished, and then it was such as they almost invariably approved. He was candid when candor was necessary, he was mysterious when he believed it wise to excite curiosity, and he was determined and often arbitrary with men whom he thought would be most impressed that way. His greatest quality, the most valuable talent he possessed, was his ability to fathom the human heart, to understand its weakness and its strength, so that he could measure the influence that must be exerted and the methods by which it could be induced to assist him in his direction of affairs.
His lowly birth and early experience were of great advantage to him in understanding human nature, and he looked to the great masses of "the plain people" as well as to the Almighty for guidance, and had full faith in their honesty and capacity. Before he acted upon any important question he felt the public pulse, and when he thought the people were ready he acted, and not before. While he was a great leader, a shrewd and deep manipulator of public opinion, he often said, in his quaint way, that it was possible to fool a part of the people all the time, and all of the people part of the time; but no man could fool all the people all the time. With his great common sense, he endeavored to discover what was in the public mind and how the public conscience would regard certain measures proposed, and waited for it to point out his path of duty. The atmosphere of Washington never affected him; he was self-contained and indifferent to social and other influences that usually exercise much force upon public men.
His sympathies were tender, and his desire to contribute to the happiness of every one made it difficult for him to say "No;" but this, his greatest weakness, was never shown in the direction of the military or political policy of the government. On the contrary, the man who would violate the laws of war and imperil the discipline of an army by pardoning a deserter or commuting the sentence of some poor wretch who was sentenced to be shot would not permit delegations of United States Senators to move him one atom from what he deemed best to be done. He carried this principle into his appointments to office also. During the Presidential canvass of 1864, when a quarrel between the Weed and Fenton factions of the Republican party endangered the ticket in New York, Lincoln sent for the Senator. What occurred we do not know; but Mr. Fenton started immediately for New York with Mr. Nicolay, and the latter returned to Washington with the resignation of Rufus F. Andrews, a friend of Mr. Fenton, who had been surveyor of the port, and Abram Wakeman, Mr. Weed's choice for the office, was appointed at once. From that time forward Mr. Weed was earnest in his support of the Republican ticket. Senator Fenton, in his reminiscences, says, "The small majority in New York in November, less than 7000 for the Republican ticket, served to illustrate Mr. Lincoln's political sagacity and tact. He was always a politician as well as a statesman, and but for his intervention at that time the electoral vote of New York might have been cast for the Democratic candidate, and no one dare measure the effect of such an event upon the war."
President Lincoln never hesitated to use the patronage of the government for political purposes. He held that the government of the United States is a political organization, and that the political opinions of those intrusted with its administration in those critical days were of as much consequence as their integrity or intelligence. As a consequence, he made his appointments first from among those whom he believed would give him the most efficient support in his efforts to save the Union, and second to those who believed in the principles and the measures of the party with which he was identified. He would have rejected with scorn the demands of the civil service reformers of the present day. Public opinion was not then educated up to the existing standard of political morality. At the same time, his keen sense of justice required him to recognize and reward merit and efficiency even among his political opponents.
He had a sly way of stating his intentions, and he often expressed great truths in an odd way. Soon after his arrival in Washington the Massachusetts delegation in the Peace Congress called upon him to recommend Salmon P. Chase for Secretary of the Treasury. Lincoln heard them respectfully, and then, with a twinkle in his eye, remarked,—
"Gentlemen, of course, you would not expect me to tell you who is going to be in the Cabinet; but, from what I hear, I think Mr. Chase's chances are about one hundred and fifty for any other man's hundred for that place."
One day, at Cabinet meeting, Mr. Chase was reproaching himself for failing to write a letter that he had intended to send that day, when Lincoln observed,—
"Never be sorry for what you don't write; it is the things you do write that you are usually sorry for."