A. Lincoln

by Ronald C. White, Jr.

  When Lincoln concluded, the audience leapt to its feet in volley after volley of applause. The next day, four New York newspapers published the entire text of the address. Horace Greeley, in the Tribune, offered his wholehearted praise. “Mr. Lincoln is one of Nature’s orators, using his rare powers solely and effectively to elucidate and to convince, though their inevitable effect is to delight and electrify as well.”

  At Cooper Union, Lincoln exhibited not only oratorical eloquence but political sagacity. Speaking in Seward’s home state, invited by a person partial to Chase, with the shadow of the Little Giant following him, Lincoln understood he needed to deflate, if not defeat, both Seward and Douglas, and place himself in the moderate center of the Republican Party. Eschewing Western stump-style speaking, with its heavy use of humor and satire, Lincoln demonstrated that his increasingly broad range of oratory could connect with an elite audience of the leaders of New York society.

  The most telling appraisal may have come from Mayson Brayman, a Springfield lawyer who had lived in Lincoln’s home when he was in Washington during his term in Congress. Brayman, a Democrat, had been asked by Lincoln to stand in the back of the hall and raise his hat on a cane if Lincoln’s voice was not being heard. The next day, Brayman wrote to William Bailhache, an owner of the Illinois State Journal, of the transformation he had witnessed at Cooper Union. Brayman found it “somewhat funny, to see a man who at home, talks along in so familiar a way, walking up and down, swaying about, swinging his arms, bobbing forward, telling droll stories and laughing at them himself, here in New-York, standing up stiff and straight, with his hands quiet, pronouncing sentence after sentence, in good telling English.”

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, Lincoln left for New England. He had long planned to visit his son Bob at Exeter, in New Hampshire, but after Cooper Union he accepted requests to speak in three New England states. Over the next eleven days, Lincoln delivered eleven speeches, with a day for rest on the Sabbath. After speaking in Providence, Rhode Island, he delivered speeches in New Hampshire at Concord; Manchester, where he was introduced as the next president of the United States; Dover; and finally at the town hall at Exeter. All of his speeches were variations on the themes of his Cooper Union address.

  Lincoln spent Saturday and Sunday with Bob at Phillips Exeter Academy. He was proud of his oldest son, but there never seemed to be the same bond between them as there was with Tad and Willie, whom Lincoln often spoiled. Now, with the two younger boys not present, a distinctive opportunity presented itself for the father and his eldest son to become companions. After Bob’s painful humiliation of being denied entrance to Harvard, father Abraham was pleased and proud of his son’s commitment to education at Exeter. On Sunday, “according to Bob’s orders,” Lincoln worshipped at Second Congregational Church. In the evening, Bob invited some of his friends to meet his suddenly famous father.

  Lincoln visited his oldest son, Robert, a student at Phillips Exeter in Exeter, New Hampshire, immediately after speaking at Cooper Union.

  A letter from James Briggs was waiting for Lincoln in Exeter. Briggs, the man who had invited Lincoln to speak at Cooper Union, was ec static. “Enclosed please find ‘check’ for $200. I would that it were $200,000. for you are worthy of it.”

  Lincoln wrote Mary from Exeter, “I have been unable to escape this toil. If I had foreseen it, I think I would not have come east at all.” He offered his understated assessment of the Cooper Union address. “The speech at New York, being within my calculation before I started, went off passably well and gave me no trouble whatever.” He told Mary of the problem of speaking “before reading audiences who had already seen all my ideas in print.”

  Leaving Bob on Monday morning, March 5, 1860, Lincoln proceeded to Hartford, Connecticut. During the day Lincoln talked with Gideon Welles at Brown and Gross’s bookstore. Welles, an ex-Democrat, was a member of the Republican National Committee. It was common knowledge that Welles despised Seward, who he believed was a spokesman for special interests in neighboring New York. Lincoln and Welles met again in the afternoon at the offices of the Hartford Evening Press, which Welles founded in 1856 to foster the Republican cause.

  As Lincoln traveled through New England, he became aware of what was being called “the great shoemakers’ strike.” The strike began in Lynn, Massachusetts, but quickly spread to other New England states. Controversy raged over the rights of shoemakers to strike for better wages and conditions. Lincoln, responding to the strikes, declared at Hartford, “I am glad to know that there is a system of labor where the laborer can strike if he wants to! I would to God that such a system prevailed all over the world.”

  After completing his speech, Lincoln was escorted to his hotel by the “Wide-Awakes,” a newly formed group of young Republican men who marched in solemn military procession with torches held aloft. They adopted their name from a recent Hartford Courant description of them as “wide awake.” The men, who wore glazed hats and capes to shield them from the oil of the torches, injected color into political campaigns and sheltered Republican marchers from the brickbats of Democratic spectators.

  The next evening, Lincoln took the night express train from Bridgeport, Connecticut, to New York. After hearing Dr. Beecher one more time on Sunday morning, he asked to visit the Five Points House of Industry, an industrial mission reaching out to abandoned children established in 1852 by Lewis M. Pease, an inventive Methodist minister.

  On Monday, March 12, 1860, after more than two weeks in the East, Lincoln departed on the Erie Railroad across New York. He was in demand for more speeches but had decided it was time to return west with bracing Eastern political winds at his back. New York and New England had proved to be decisive in his journey of self-discovery.

  LINCOLN FELT TIRED but renewed upon his return to Springfield. His trip to New York, and his often overlooked circuit of New England, had turned out to be a listening as well as a speaking tour. In places that he had only read about, he heard from new friends about possibilities for higher political office that he had barely allowed himself to think about not many months before. Back home, his old friends rushed to offer “earnest congratulations” for his success in the East. Newspaper conjecture about Lincoln and the Republicans’ convention in Chicago rushed ahead. The Chicago Press & Tribune and the Illinois State Journal had kept their readers abreast of Lincoln’s speaking tour by printing the accolades from the New York and New England newspapers. The Cooper Union address, published in pamphlet form by the New York Tribune, was about to be published by the Illinois State Journal. Herndon observed that Lincoln’s “recent success had stimulated his self-confidence.” It was as if the affirmation he had received in New York and New England finally convinced a cautious Lincoln that he had the support to seek the highest office in the land. Herndon observed, “It was apparent now to Lincoln that the Presidential nomination was within his reach.”

  In the last week of March, Lincoln traveled to Chicago to participate in the “Sandbar Case” before Judge Thomas Drummond in the federal court. While in Chicago, sculptor Leonard Volk asked him to sit for a bust. Volk had studied sculpture in Italy, a trip sponsored by his brother-in-law, Stephen Douglas. Honoring Lincoln’s busy schedule, Volk decided to keep the sessions to a minimum by beginning with a life mask. Lincoln endured with good humor the process of letting wet plaster dry on his face and then Volk’s removing it by stretching his skin.

  Lincoln’s success in the East evidenced itself in expanded support in Illinois. At the end of February 1860, the Republican National Committee had announced they were moving the starting date of the Chicago convention up from June 13 to May 16. In March and April, Lincoln and his advisers set out to translate this surge of goodwill into hard votes at the rapidly approaching convention.

  An unexpected benefit of speaking in Ohio, Kansas, New York, and New England was a new group of friends and self-appointed advisers. From Columbus, Samuel Galloway, a lawyer and politician, wrote to offer an astute evaluation of the ot
her candidates in the field. He wanted Lincoln to know that “there will be but little fervent attachment to Mr Chase in the Ohio delegation.” Galloway predicted that “after one or two ballotings he will not receive more than 1/4th of the vote.” As for Seward, he “will doubtless enter the Convention with the largest plurality vote—He cannot however be nominated unless Pennsylvania & New Jersey give him their votes.” Lincoln must have been heartened when Galloway concluded, “The concurrent opinion of our most intelligent politicians is that either you or Bates will be nominated.”

  Lincoln, in his reply, revealed his thinking on his chances. “My name is new in the field; and I suppose I am not the first choice of a very great many.” Starting from this assumption, Lincoln laid out his campaign strategy. “Our policy, then, is to give no offence to others—leave them in a mood to come to us, if they shall be compelled to give up their first love.”

  From Connecticut, James F. Babcock, editor of the New Haven Palladium and host for Lincoln’s lecture in March, wrote, “I have heard your name mentioned more freely than ever in Connection with the Chicago nomination, and by some who have had other views, or whose feelings were previously committed in favor of another.” Connecticut and Rhode Island, unlike Massachusetts, were conservative states that would not back Seward.

  Lincoln replied to Babcock in a tone both curious and cautious. “As to the Presidential nomination, claiming no greater exemption from selfishness than is common, I still feel that my whole aspiration should be, and therefore must be, to be placed anywhere, or nowhere, as may appear most likely to advance our cause.” While not making known his intentions to Babcock, he did include the names of eleven “confidential friends” in Ohio, Iowa, and Illinois “with whom you might correspond.”

  On April 29, 1860, two and a half weeks before the Republican convention in Chicago, Lincoln offered his most direct comment yet on his candidacy. Senator Trumbull had written Lincoln with a detailed evaluation of the various candidates, and asked “to be put fully in possession of your views.” Lincoln replied, “As you request, I will be entirely frank. The taste is in my mouth, a little.” The “a little” has often been left off Lincoln’s declaration when quoted. Lincoln’s letter was significant because it showed him willing to discuss with Trumbull the strengths and weaknesses of Seward, Bates, and Judge John McLean, the latter being the candidate Trumbull favored.

  When Lincoln wrote Trumbull, he was still awaiting the results of the Democratic convention in Charleston, South Carolina, “to know who is to lead our adversaries.” He understood that the choice of the Democratic candidate in Charleston could well influence the choice of the Republican candidate in Chicago. He would have a long wait.

  The Democratic convention had begun on April 23, 1860, with a clash between Douglas supporters’ promotion of popular sovereignty and Southern delegates’ insistence on a federal slave code for the territories. The discordant convention culminated in fifty delegates from Southern states walking out. After ten days and fifty-seven ballots, unable to nominate their presidential candidate, the convention disbanded on May 3 with the decision to meet again six weeks later in the friendlier environs of Baltimore.

  IT HAS OFTEN been suggested that Lincoln was his own political manager, but this judgment does not explain the effectiveness of his campaign. Offered as a way to extol Lincoln’s political genius, it actually undervalues the astute ways he worked with colleagues. Lincoln’s genius was his ability to draw upon the talents of others, meld together diverse personalities who often did not trust one another, and then listen to their advice, recognizing that it was sometimes wiser than his own.

  David Davis laid aside his judicial robes to become Lincoln’s campaign manager in 1860. Lincoln said of his corpulent friend, “I keep no secrets from him.” Leonard Swett, inseparable from Lincoln and Davis on the Eighth Judicial Circuit, told Lincoln in December 1854 to use him in any way that could help him and continued, unceasingly, to offer his services in all of Lincoln’s election campaigns. Norman Judd, the former anti-Nebraska Democrat whom Trumbull described as “the shrewdest politician … in the State,” was Lincoln’s key adviser in 1858 and would play a crucial role in 1860.

  Lincoln’s advisers, many self-appointed, never functioned as a single, organized group, instead relating to Lincoln singly or in groups of three or four. They served as his agents in the quite different northern, central, and southern sections of Illinois. Up until the spring of 1860, advisory meetings were mostly held on an on-call basis, related to Lincoln’s being in the vicinity or to deal with a specific problem or issue.

  In early May 1860, delegates converged on Decatur for the state Republican convention. Lincoln’s advisers realized it was crucial that he arrive in Chicago with the unanimous support of the Illinois delegation with its twenty-two votes, but this would not be easy, as Seward enjoyed support in northern Illinois and Bates in southern Illinois. Lincoln arrived on May 8 but did not plan to participate in the meeting. On May 9, Decatur resident Richard J. Oglesby, chairman of the convention, announced, “I am informed that a distinguished citizen of Illinois, and one whom Illinois will ever delight to honor, is present, and I wish to move that this body invite him to a seat on the stand.” With a flair for the dramatic, he paused and finally shouted: “Abraham Lincoln!” Cheers shook the fragile tent. Lincoln was found, apprehended, and to his surprise began to be passed “kicking, scrambling—crawling—upon the sea of heads” to the stage at the front of the tent. When Lincoln was finally upright, he “rose bowing and blushing,” and thanked the convention for their “Manifestations of Esteem.”

  The dramatics had only begun. Oglesby was about to become yet another friend who wished to define Lincoln. He announced that an “Old Democrat had something he wished to present to this meeting.” The cry went up: “Receive it!—Receive it!” Nineteenth-century politics was replete with political nicknames: “Old Hickory” in 1828, “Tippecanoe and Tyler Too” in 1840, and “The Pathfinder” in 1856. By 1860, Lincoln was most often referred to as “Old Abe.” Oglesby was certain that sobriquet was not sufficient.

  Oglesby knew that old John Hanks, the first cousin of Lincoln’s mother, who as a young man had lived on and off with the Lincolns for four years in Indiana, was a resident of Decatur. Hanks was a Democrat, but no matter. Oglesby got in touch with Hanks and went with him to get some black walnut and honey locust rails that Lincoln and Hanks had split together thirty years earlier during Lincoln’s first year in Illinois.

  From the back of the tent, John Hanks and a friend marched triumphantly in carrying two rails and a banner that read:

  ABRAHAM LINCOLN

  The Rail Candidate

  FOR PRESIDENT IN 1860

  TWO RAILS FROM A LOT OF 3,000 MADE IN 1830

  BY THOS. HANKS AND ABE LINCOLN—WHOSE

  FATHER WAS THE FIRST PIONEER IN MACON COUNTY

  The banner was not completely correct, for it was John, the bearer of the sign, who had split the rails, and Thomas Lincoln was not the first pioneer in Macon County. But no one in the assembly cared about accuracy at that moment as they burst into applause that went on for more than ten minutes. When Lincoln finally stood to acknowledge their acclaim, he recalled that when he immigrated to Illinois he spent a season in Macon County and helped cultivate a farm on the Sangamon River, where he built a cabin and “split rails.”

  “Honest Abe” could not vouch that he had split the rails brought to the tent, but “he had mauled many and many better ones since he had grown to manhood.” The cheers started up again. The symbol of “the Rail Splitter,” pointing to the rights of free labor as opposed to slave labor, added a new emotion to the Lincoln boom.

  ON MAY 12, 1860, Harper’s Weekly published a double-page illustrations displaying the faces of eleven “prominent candidates” for the Republican nomination to be decided at Chicago. Front and center in the lithograph was the craggy face of Seward. In the bottom row, to the left, was the Brady photograph of Lincoln. The biograp
hies of the contenders were on another page. Lincoln’s biography was the last and the least.

  Harper’s Weekly published on May 12, 1860, images of all the candidates for the Republican presidential nomination. Lincoln’s image is far away from the center, which is occupied by William Seward, an indication of the magazine’s estimation of their chances for the nomination.

  Special trains crammed full of delegates began arriving in Chicago on May 12 and 13, 1860. Most Republicans came to Chicago expecting that a man of great reputation and long public service would be the nominee. Seward and Chase, both of whom had served as senator and governor, fit that bill. Both had strong antislavery credentials, with Chase to the left of Seward. However, after attacks on Republicans about the John Brown affair, many delegates were eager to embrace a more moderate voice as their standard-bearer in 1860. Simon Cameron, a tall Scot, newspaper editor, businessman, and senator, could fit that profile, but a reputation for unsavory business practices stuck with him, and he was having trouble picking up support beyond his native Pennsylvania. One time slaveholder Edward Bates, living tranquilly in St. Louis, was not presently holding elective office but had advanced his candidacy by writing public and private letters. Lincoln thought highly of Bates’s chances as a safe, conservative alternative to Seward and Chase. Bates’s major stumbling block was his nativist record, which frightened the large German populations in Illinois and Wisconsin. Editor Horace Greeley, once a strong supporter of Seward but now a major player in the stop-Seward movement, was putting his chips on Bates. Associate Supreme Court Justice John McLean was seventy-five years old in 1860 but appealed to some who embraced the safe values of the past. Lincoln had supported his candidacy for the Republican nomination in 1856.

  Chicago was a jaunty city of more than one hundred thousand people whose jerry-built buildings hollered that it was a city in a hurry. Rapidly becoming the manufacturing and trade center of the Midwest, the city boasted fifteen railroads. The spires of fifty-six churches dominated the skyline. Most of the streets were paved only with long oak planks, beneath which lived an army of rats that came out each night to ravage the city’s uncollected garbage. The arriving delegates encountered buildings decorated with festive banners and bunting. The fastest growing city in America wanted to put on its best face—a largely Republican one—which could lend a hand to “Old Abe.” The center of activity was “the Wigwam,” a structure 100 by 180 feet, built to accommodate ten thousand people. Inside the Wigwam were patriotic displays of state coats of arms, flags, and busts of distinguished Americans.