Abraham Lincoln

by Clara Ingram Judson

  The crowd roared its approval.

  Would Abraham Lincoln give up politics? After this night his tall plug hat was tossed directly into the political ring.

  • CHAPTER FOURTEEN •

  DEBATES AND CONVENTIONS

  Illinois was a very exciting place to live in that summer of 1858. The campaign promised to be lively even though it was not the year for a presidential election. Democrats endorsed Senator Douglas to succeed himself. The new Republican party approved Abraham Lincoln for the same office. Men who had heard or read the speeches made in Chicago wanted to hear both candidates.

  Newspapers took up the idea. Lincoln challenged Douglas to public debate. Douglas finally consented, and a committee planned seven meetings and made rules. Douglas was to open the first debate and every other one afterward. Lincoln was to open the second, fourth, and sixth. The opener was to talk an hour—then his opponent an hour and a half—with the opener having a final half hour.

  The Coles County Courthouse in Charleston, Illinois.

  In August, Lincoln went to Ottawa for the first debate, on a special train of seventeen coaches. He had been in this town during the Black Hawk War, but it had grown so in twenty-six years that he would not have known it. A committee met him and escorted him to a carriage that had been decorated with evergreens by a committee of young ladies. The procession of bands, military companies, and political clubs was a half mile long. Douglas arrived at the other end of town and the two men were taken to lunch at fine houses in the same block. The debate lasted all afternoon.

  Next morning newspaper headlines reported:

  THE GREAT DEBATE AT OTTAWA

  TWELVE THOUSAND PERSONS PRESENT

  LINCOLN TRIUMPHANT!

  VINDICATION OF REPUBLICAN PRINCIPLES!

  THE GREAT GIANT SLAIN!

  Douglas lost his temper (it was said); Lincoln was in magnificent form and spoke amid cheers. The crowd was three to one for Lincoln. That, of course, was a Republican paper.

  The Democrats had a different story:

  DOUGLAS AND LINCOLN DEBATE AT OTTAWA

  12,000 PEOPLE WITNESS THE ROUT OF LINCOLN

  DOUGLAS AGAIN TRIUMPHANT!

  Six days later the debate was at Freeport. Two special trains brought the crowds. Hundreds more came on foot, on horseback, by buggy or wagon. The town was filled with bands, patent medicine hawkers, pickpockets, and devoted followers of one speaker or the other. The crowd flowed through stores, eating houses, and saloons—cleaning up everything. Douglas had come the evening before and was in seclusion at the Brewster Hotel. Lincoln’s arrival at nine in the morning was saluted by cannon.

  A platform had been built in a nearby grove and at two o’clock the Democrats drove up, with their candidate, in an elegant carriage drawn by handsome white horses. Republicans used a pioneer’s Conestoga wagon driven by farmers—no elegance; Lincoln was a man of the people.

  The two speakers had very different abilities. Douglas’s voice was like organ music, deep and thrilling. Lincoln’s was a high tenor which reached to the far edge of the vast crowd. He did not drop his tone at the end of a sentence but kept at an even pitch that held close attention.

  There were wide economic and physical differences between the speakers, too. Douglas owned large sections of land in thriving Chicago and in western territories, and he was interested in promoting a railroad between Chicago and the West. Lincoln had only his earnings at law. Douglas was a little over five feet in height and Lincoln six feet and four inches, a contrast that made amusing campaign talk.

  “I’m wondering, Mr. Lincoln,” a man asked boldly, “how long you figure a man’s legs ought to be?”

  Lincoln appeared to give the matter thought.

  “Well,” he decided, “I think to reach from his body to the ground would be about right.”

  At the Ottawa meeting Douglas had dramatically asked seven questions. Now it was Lincoln’s turn to open the debate—and he answered those questions before he began his planned address against Douglas’s bill.

  This speech, like others he made that summer, was taken down in shorthand by reporters and was published in newspapers over the country. The idea of a debate interested people more than a one-party political rally, and the reports were read by thousands. Three more debates were held in September and two in October.

  These debates won national fame for Lincoln. His courage and brilliant logic cut through Douglas’s oratory and showed voters one clear issue—should the American people allow slavery to spread? He frankly said he knew no easy way of ending slavery in states where it was legal and that he did not approve of abolition. If slavery could be confined perhaps someday it could be outlawed. But he did know that if slavery spread, the evil would soon be out of control.

  Voters over the country pondered words such as these:

  “I hate the Kansas-Nebraska bill because of the monstrous injustice of slavery itself. I hate slavery because it deprives our republican example of its just influence in the world.

  “Nearly eighty years ago, we began by declaring all men equal. But now” (and he scornfully quoted Douglas) “the ‘sacred right of self-government’ is the right of one man to enslave the other.”

  All through the fall, the busy candidates made many other speeches, and men of both parties talked to crowds in towns and villages. Herndon, Trumbull, Browning, Stuart, and others worked hard for the cause and the man they believed in. The battle continued until election day—when Lincoln was defeated.

  It took Lincoln several days to get over his chagrin. Eventually, he saw that all was not lost. The intense battle had shown the South that they could not hope to increase the number of slaveholding states, and Douglas had probably lost his chance at the presidency. The Republicans had gained some offices, and Lincoln had won thousands of new friends and supporters. “Old Abe” was now used in a tone of proud affection as well as in the Democratic cartoons, and Mr. Lincoln was being talked of for the presidency in 1860.

  During the debates Republican leaders had seen that Lincoln’s knowledge of American ideals and history had impressed the people and had gained for him a nation-wide audience. A reputation based on such a foundation might be expected to grow. But if Lincoln thought of this himself, he never let it be known.

  After the election of 1858 Lincoln returned to his legal work. While campaigning (at his own expense) his business was neglected, and his income was reduced. Now he worked hard to make up. At home he played with his boys and marketed with the big basket. That winter was very cold, and he took to wearing a woolen shawl twisted around his neck to make a warm muffler. He carried papers in his hat and casually stretched out on the floor whenever he had a few minutes to read.

  A visitor at the front door might be met by the man of the house, who had his finger in a book and was hastily settling his coat in place. Mrs. Lincoln, just too late, often hustled to answer his call, “You’re wanted, Mother!”

  Afterward Mrs. Lincoln scolded. “Mr. Lincoln,” she said (a lady did not use her husband’s first name), “in your station you should let the girl answer the door!”

  Mr. Lincoln grinned—and forgot. Mrs. Lincoln did have her troubles!

  In 1859 the people of the United States were increasingly disturbed about slavery. There were riots in Kansas. John Brown attempted to inspire a slave insurrection at Harper’s Ferry. And then it came time, in 1860, to nominate a president. The Democrats met first and were so divided that finally southerners chose one candidate and northerners another— Douglas. The remnant of Whigs, now the Constitutional Union Party, had their candidate, too.

  Republicans saw that this division of the vote gave them their greatest chance for winning the election. If they nominated the right man, they might elect a president. William Seward, a distinguished easterner, was a general favorite. Illinois, Iowa, and Indiana supported Abraham Lincoln, but he had little other backing. Harper’s Weekly listed his name seventh among possible candidates: Seward, Bates of Missouri, and
Cameron of Pennsylvania had better chances, Harper’s said.

  Some people thought Lincoln should be present at the Chicago nominating convention, but he did not go. As he had said, “he was a little too much a candidate to stay at home and not quite enough a candidate to go.” Many of his friends were going—Judge Davis, Jesse Dubois, Stephen Logan, and William Herndon. They promised to do their best for him and to keep him posted. So Lincoln stayed near the Springfield telegraph office.

  On May 14th he received this telegram:

  A. LINCOLN: DON’T COME UNLESS WE SEND FOR YOU.

  DUBOIS AND DAVIS

  On the 15th this came:

  A. LINCOLN: WE ARE QUIET BUT MOVING HEAVEN AND EARTH. NOTHING WILL BEAT US BUT OLD FOGEY POLITICIANS. THE HEARTS OF THE DELEGATES ARE WITH US. DAVIS AND DUBOIS

  On the 18th he had a deluge of messages. The first to bring him the thrilling news was from a friend on the Board of Trade:

  ABRAHAM LINCOLN: YOU WERE NOMINATED ON THE 3RD BALLOT. J.J. RICHARDS

  His manner was calm, his eyes unrevealing as he looked up and said, “Gentlemen, there is a short little woman at our house who is probably more interested in this dispatch than I am; and if you will excuse me, I will take it up and let her see it.” And he went home.

  The next morning friends wondered whether he should go to Chicago. But soon a message from the President of the convention settled that problem by telegram:

  HON. A. LINCOLN

  DEAR SIR: A COMMITTEE OF THE CONVENTION WILL WAIT UPON YOU BY SPECIAL TRAIN SATURDAY EVE TO INFORM YOU OFFICIALLY OF YOUR NOMINATION FOR PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.

  GEORGE ASHMUN, PRESIDENT

  When word got around Springfield that there was to be an official notification, friends hurried to the Lincoln home to advise and help. Lincoln was known to be a “teetotaler”; and he would have nothing in the house suitable to offer distinguished guests.

  “I will be glad to take care of everything,” a neighbor offered.

  “I’ll furnish the liquors,” another said.

  “Gentlemen, I thank you for your kind intentions,” Lincoln replied, “but I most respectfully decline your offer. I have no liquors in my house and never have been in the habit of entertaining my friends that way. I cannot permit my friends to do for me what I will not do for myself. I shall provide cold water—nothing else.”

  Saturday evening a great crowd greeted the two hundred men who came on the special train. Carrying fence rails like muskets they marched to the State House to hear speeches. Then they went to the Lincoln home.

  Two boys were waiting for them on the front steps.

  “Are you Mr. Lincoln’s son?” a visitor asked the older boy. “Yes, sir, I’m Willie,” the boy answered briskly.

  “Then let’s shake!”

  “I’m a Lincoln boy, too,” seven-year-old Tad spoke up. Laughing, the delegates shook his hand and Tad was happy.

  Mr. Lincoln met the committee in the front parlor. His face was quiet and dignified; if he felt pride his gray eyes did not show it. George Ashmun handed him the official letter, and Lincoln bowed as he accepted it.

  “I shall reply in writing soon,” he said.

  “Come up, gentlemen!” someone called out when these formalities were over. “It’s nobody but old Abe Lincoln!”

  “Mrs. Lincoln will be pleased to see you, gentlemen.”

  The delegates surged through the house. Mrs. Lincoln was in the south parlor looking pleased and handsome. These Lincolns were not a rough flatboat sort as Easterners half expected. One was heard to remark, “Why, Lincoln’s a perfect gentleman!”

  Outside, the town blazed with rockets and bonfires. Houses and stores were lighted from basement to attic. Springfield was to be the hub of the country for many a month.

  • CHAPTER FIFTEEN •

  PARADES AND FAREWELL

  The months between a political nomination and the election give the people their chance to decide how to vote. In 1860, this campaign time promised to be exciting because there were four candidates for President (Southern Democrat, Northern Democrat, Constitutional Union, and Republican). Americans differed widely on the ideas these men represented.

  The Republican Party had a three-point platform: to keep slavery out of the territories (but they pledged that it should not be disturbed in states where slaveholding was legal); to protect American industries; and to give free homestead land to people who wanted to move west.

  Stephen A. Douglas.

  But these simple phrases displeased many voters. Abolitionists thought them too soft; Southerners read in them an end to slavery. For if slavery could not go along with the movement west, the kind of life dependent upon slavery would surely die out. As for the other points: if factories—mostly in the north—were protected by a high tariff, wealth in the north would rapidly surpass the wealth of the cotton states; and if new land to the west was free, northerners would quickly settle the territories with non-slaveholding people.

  The Southern states promptly threatened to withdraw from the Union if the Republican candidate Lincoln was elected. Abolitionists felt that they had been betrayed, and even Republicans were soon frightened. Many regretted Lincoln’s nomination. It had seemed a clever move to nominate a “man of the people” like Andrew Jackson; now they wished for the experienced Seward. People of all parties wondered whether it was already too late to keep the states united. The question of leadership must be settled by the people at the election in November.

  Party leaders knew that parades draw crowds for the serious speeches and that people value what they work for. So they organized cubs, planned parades and picnics. Ladies—who of course did not vote—sewed the uniforms and made handsome banners. Everyone had a chance to help.

  The largest campaign club was the Republican “Wide-Awakes,” with more than half a million members by midsummer. Boys formed the “Lincoln Guards” and the “Young Rail Splitters.” Members canvassed voters, escorted speakers, acted as hosts and guides during rallies, and did other valuable service.

  While all this was going on, Abraham Lincoln stayed in Springfield, and his days were crowded with duties. He had so many visitors that the governor let him use a pleasant corner room in the State House, and Lincoln held daily receptions there. Artists drew pictures, sculptors made statues, reporters wrote stories, and the campaign committee asked Lincoln to write his own life story.

  Willie and Tad Lincoln enjoyed this excitement. They dashed in and out of the State House, bothering everyone but enjoying themselves and entertaining their father. The committee found it hard to be sympathetic when Willie got a mild case of scarlet fever and the fun stopped. Robert, now seventeen, was away finishing his preparation for Harvard University.

  Springfield people planned a celebration that should be bigger and better than any in the land. They set the date for August 8th, and everyone went to work. Even opponents agreed to help feed visitors, though announcements warned people to bring their own food if possible. A wigwam designed like the one in Chicago was built near the Square, sidewalks were repaired, extra police appointed, and speakers invited.

  August 8th was a clear, hot day, and by nine o’clock the streets were crowded. Special trains brought one hundred and eighty carloads of people, more than fifteen thousand. Thousands and thousands more walked to town or came on horseback, by buggy, or by wagon. They milled around the streets in such numbers that the parade could hardly form. It finally got under way toward Jackson Street, where Mr. Lincoln and his family were to watch it from their front steps.

  At the head of the long line was a great ball rolled by uniformed men. Small boys raced alongside trying to read the words on it:

  Westward the Star of Empire takes its way;

  We link-on to Lincoln—our fathers were for Clay.

  Behind the ball marched more than twenty clubs—the “Wide-Awakes,” the “Lincoln Young Americans,” the “Springfield German-Americans,” and others. Bands played, and floats fascinated the crowd.
One float was a great flatboat on wheels, marked “New Salem Days.” Another had a real power loom that actually made jeans-cloth on the march. As fast as the cloth was woven, lengths were cut off and made into pants “for Lincoln.” There was a log-cabin float with a man made up to resemble Lincoln—who split rails all the way. Twenty-three yoke of oxen pulled a huge float carrying rail splitters, wheelwrights, and blacksmiths—who illustrated “honest toil” under the hot sun.

  Many marchers carried fence rails. John Hanks had started that fad when Lincoln’s name was put in nomination for president at the state convention in May. John had hunted up two of Warnick’s rails and had taken them to the convention at Decatur. Delegates were entranced when he pointed out the actual ax marks that “Old Abe” had made. Here were symbols of pioneer toil that people would understand. The idea was so popular that it is a wonder any rail fence was left standing! After Lincoln’s nomination thousands and thousands of rails were sold, all supposed to have been split by the Republican candidate. Some of the popular slogans that were tied in with those rails were:

  The Union shall be preserved—Old Abe will fence it in.

  Abe Lincoln—in Illinois he mauled rails and Stephen A. Douglas.

  There were hundreds of gay banners waving snappy slogans in that long, colorful line of march.

  By two o’clock the parade had wound back and forth over Springfield streets and arrived at the fair grounds for the speeches. The crowd of some seventy-five thousand was separated into groups where different orators held forth. In the evening there was a torchlight parade. Marching men wore oilcloth capes to protect themselves from sparks and dripping oil. Willie and Tad watched till the last man passed. It was a great day.

  The next morning the Illinois State Journal carried a glowing account headed by an elephant, the first use of this animal as a campaign symbol. The creature wore two pairs of boots and carried a streamer saying,