Abraham Lincoln: A Life, Volume 1

by Michael Burlingame

  Lincoln probably was flattered by notices in the Republican press. The Chicago Democrat said: “We are glad Mr. Lincoln got so many votes for Vice President. There is no political Maine Lawism [a reference to prohibition] or Know-Nothingism about him and a better Fremont man does not live.”67 The Ottawa Republican was even more complimentary: “we would have supported Mr. Lincoln for the second office in the gift of the people though we hope some day to vote for him for the first. He is among the men who endure.”68

  Hobbled by Frémont’s nomination, Illinois’s fledgling Republicans also faced a dilemma in the Third Congressional District, where on July 2 an uncompromising abolitionist, Owen Lovejoy, defeated Leonard Swett’s bid to run for a U.S. House seat. Lovejoy, whose brother Elijah had been murdered in 1837 by an anti-abolitionist mob in Alton, seemed too radical for mainstream voters. A Congregationalist minister, he fiercely opposed slavery. Short, stout, “with a face of flint, a mouth of decision, and in every way and motion, bearing the mark of a radical, suggestive, and indomitable man,” he was “quick and peremptory, and not over courteous in his bearing, looking like one more ready to demand his rights, and to enforce them, than to ask favors.”69 Alarmed conservatives bolted and looked for another candidate. On July 16 they chose T. Lyle Dickey to challenge Lovejoy and his Democratic opponent, threatening to split the antislavery vote.

  Although Lincoln did not directly urge his good friend Dickey to withdraw, he did so indirectly through David Davis. To Davis he explained on July 7: “When I heard that Swett was beaten, and Lovejoy nominated, it turned me blind. I was, by invitation, on my way to Princeton [where Lovejoy lived]; and I really thought of turning back. However, on reaching that region, and seeing the people there—their great enthusiasm for Lovejoy—considering the activity they will carry into the contest with him—and their great disappointment, if he should now be torn from them, I really think it best to let the matter stand.” Acknowledging that it “is not my business to advise in the case,” he nonetheless told Davis to show his letter to others, including Ashahel Gridley, who had denounced Lovejoy as a “nigger thief.”70 Two days after the Bloomington conclave, Davis, echoing Lincoln’s arguments, informed Dickey that even though the “nomination of Lovejoy deadens enthusiasm, dispirits and causes all people who really love the Union of the States to pause,” the sentiment in favor of him was strong throughout the district because “the outrages in Kansas, and the general conduct of the Administration, with the attack on Mr. Sumner, have made Abolitionists of those who never dreamed they were drifting into it.” The many Whigs objecting to Lovejoy’s nomination, among them Davis, who despised him, still preferred the preacher, as an opponent of slavery expansion, to a Democrat who did not oppose it. Others felt that Lovejoy had won the nomination fairly, that the process should be honored, and that they had agreed to fuse and must abide by the decision of the fusion convention. Lovejoy’s “views and opinions are becoming the views and opinions of a majority of the people,” Davis observed; if Dickey ran, he would surely lose.71 In mid-September Dickey reluctantly agreed to withdraw. Seven weeks later, Lovejoy won by more than 6,000 votes.

  Lincoln’s own congressional district also caused him distress, for Yates declined to run for the seat he had lost two years earlier. In July, Lincoln met with Yates, Trumbull, James Matheny, and other Republican leaders in an attempt to persuade John M. Palmer to run, and former Whigs to support him if he did. When Palmer refused, the Republicans settled on little-known John Williams as their sacrificial lamb in the congressional race.

  Lincoln threw himself into the presidential campaign, delivering over fifty speeches around Illinois in an unusually bitter and violent campaign. His principal concern was to woo disaffected Whigs, a class well represented by his old friend Joseph Gillespie, who still resented the anti-Nebraska Democrats who had voted against Lincoln for senator the previous year. Gillespie was tempted to support the American Party ticket, headed by former Whig president Millard Fillmore. In June, Gillespie told Lincoln that when he saw the results of the Bloomington Convention, he had entertained the hope that conservatives would band together to defeat the forces of Douglas and Pierce. But when he learned that a leading anti-Nebraska Democratic paper in Alton endorsed James Buchanan for president, he concluded that the Democrats who had participated in the Bloomington Convention were betraying the cause. Therefore, he would vote for a true conservative like Fillmore even if the former president stood little chance of winning, for “it would be more creditable to be fighting under that banner than to triumph in such company as I fear some of the wire workers at Bloomington are.”72

  Lincoln heard from others to the same effect. A southern Illinoisan told him that “as Mr. Fillmore was Elicted to the vice presidency as a Whig [in 1848], many of the Whigs in this Section of our County Still adhere to him Not Considering by Whom he was Nominated, hence the Difficulty here to Git all the Whigs here to drop him.”73

  To enlist antislavery Whigs, Lincoln had to confront the charge of abolitionism and fears of disunion. John M. Palmer reported that in southern Illinois “the dog howl of Abolitionism-Black Republicanism” had frightened many old Whigs. In addition, others “feel that they are called specially to the patriotic duty of ‘saving the Union’ which can only be done by throwing their votes away on Fillmore.”74 Lincoln learned that his friend Edwin B. Webb “is really right, & wants to have Richardson & Douglass defeated, but stands opposed to Abolitionism, & is afraid of separating the Union, through any means, & fancies the Republican Movements are likely to do it.” Webb was reportedly “a good Soul, a right minded man …, but timidly afraid of doing mischief to the integrity & perpetuity of the Union.”75 From Springfield, Benjamin S. Edwards reported that Frémont’s nomination was “particularly unfortunate,” for in central Illinois “a great many are startled … by the cry of abolitionist—and will shrink from the support of a man of so little reputation as F[remont], & one whom they are persuaded was forced on the public by abolitionists. Nor is he liked by the Whigs, who though willing to support a democrat in opposition to Buchanan, are not yet prepared to support unhesitatingly a man whose antecedents have so little to recommend him.” Edwards told Lyman Trumbull that Illinois Republicans faced an uphill fight: “You need … vindication against the charges of abolition, and opposition to the Union which however unfounded they may be are yet made, and must be met.”76

  Lincoln responded to the challenge energetically. With Herndon, he stumped extensively, particularly in southern Illinois, where his services were in demand. This was disagreeable, discouraging labor. Frequently, crowds failed to turn out because there were simply too few Republicans in the area. In rural counties, Republican processions, headed by a few frantic marshals leading a brass band and a carriage full of local dignitaries, often looked pitiful when the shy farmers would not fall in behind them. The result was a poor excuse for a parade. Among the many annoyances speakers had to endure were odiferous petroleum torches, glee clubs singing banal campaign songs nasally, loud brass bands playing indoors, and tedious party adherents who boasted endlessly of their service to the cause.

  Lincoln began to canvass the state in July with a speech at Lovejoy’s hometown of Princeton; he proceeded to Dixon, Sterling, Chicago, Galena, and Oregon City. No full text of his many other Illinois addresses that year has survived, but in an extant draft fragment of his Galena speech, he refuted the charge of sectionalism leveled against the Republicans, a charge he called “the most difficult objection we have to meet.” Lincoln briefly summarized the “naked issue” that divided the Democrats from his party: “Shall slavery be allowed to extend into U.S. territories, now legally free?” Appealing to fair-minded voters, he asked “how is one side of this question, more sectional, than the other?” If the parties were, like most other institutions, divided along sectional lines, how should the problem be solved? The answer was simple, he declared: one side must yield. Republicans “boldly say, let all who really think slavery ought to sprea
d into free territory, openly go over against us.” But why, he asked, should anyone who opposed slavery vote Democratic? “Do they really think the right ought to yield to the wrong? Are they afraid to stand by the right? Do they fear that the constitution is too weak to sustain them in the right? Do they really think that by right surrendering to wrong, the hopes of our constitution, our Union, and our liberties, can possibly be bettered?”

  To those who objected that Frémont and Dayton were both from Free States, Lincoln pointed out that the Constitution stipulated that the president and vice-president must come from different states, not different sections. Although it had become customary for one of the standard-bearers to be a resident of a Free State and his running mate from a Slave State, it was not mandatory. He conceded that Frémont would probably receive all of his electoral votes from Free States, but Lincoln pointed out that Buchanan expected to win mainly with the votes of Slave States, with some help north of the Mason-Dixon line. Why, Lincoln asked, was this the case? “It is not because one side of the question dividing them, is more sectional than the other; nor because of any difference in the mental or moral structure of the people North and South. It is because, in that question, the people of the South have an immediate palpable and immensely great pecuniary interest; while, with the people of the North, it is merely an abstract question of moral right, with only slight, and remote pecuniary interest added.” The value of Southern slaves would double if slavery were allowed to expand; it would be reduced if slavery were hemmed in. This consideration “unites the Southern people, as one man. But it can not be demonstrated that the North will gain a dollar by restricting it.” It was a pity, Lincoln observed, that moral principle constituted “a looser bond, than pecuniary interest.” He excoriated Northern Democratic presidential aspirants for selling out to the South. Scornfully, he noted that the party lash and personal ambition led them to auction off their principles and abandon “their own honest impulses, and sense of right.”77

  At Princeton, young Clark E. Carr attended Lincoln’s speech and found it disappointing. “From what I had heard of Mr. Lincoln I expected to be interested in his speech—to be greatly moved and charmed by his eloquence,” Carr wrote. But there “was not a brilliant utterance, no flight of oratory, no well-rounded periods, no rhetorical climax, simply a plain, homely talk, rather an apology than otherwise for being a Republican. He took great pains to make the audience understand that, while he abhorred slavery, to be a Republican did not by any means imply an effort to overthrow slavery, but simply to prevent its extension into new territory. He gave a history of the Missouri Compromise … and made a lawyer’s argument to prove that it was constitutional, and that there was no justification for its repeal. Among other things, he declared himself not to be opposed to the Fugitive Slave law. He used such homely illustrations as that the thing was ‘as plain as the nose on a man’s face,’ ‘like rain running off from a duck’s back,’ and ‘the longest pole gets the persimmons.’ He did not attempt to conceal the fact that he had always been a high-tariff Whig, but he handled that matter gingerly, so as not to drive away the Free Soil Democrats who were inclined to come into the new Republican party.”78

  Journalist Noah Brooks, who heard Lincoln speak at Dixon, assessed him differently. His “irresistible force of logic,” “clinching power of argument,” and “manly disregard of everything like sophistry or clap-trap” impressed not only Republicans like Brooks but also rock-ribbed Democrats “who had withstood the arguments and truths of scores of able men.” Those Democrats “were forced to confess that their reason was held captive while they listened to the plain, straight-forward and sledge-hammer logic of the speaker.” Brooks remembered that when Lincoln first stood on the platform, “almost everyone was disappointed” by his personal appearance; but once he started to explain “the reasonableness of what was asked by the North, and the madness and folly of the demand of the South that all governmental power and legislative action should be subservient to the interests of her own peculiar institutions, his manner and appearance were entirely lost and forgotten in the magic of his eloquence and in the fund of irresistible argument which he poured forth.” Lincoln’s “manner, never tedious or harsh, became instinct with life, energy and electric vivacity. Every motion was graceful, every inflection of his voice melodious, and, when dropping for the moment, argument, he good-naturedly appealed to his fellow-republicans to admit certain alleged charges, and then went on to show how, notwithstanding all this, the platform and principles of the party were untouched and uninjured, his consummate shrewdness and long-headed, astute perceptions of the truth never failed to touch the audience with a sudden shock of pleasure and surprise, which brought forth spontaneous bursts of applause from friends and opponents.”

  When “an unusually impertinent and persistent” heckler interrupted him, Lincoln wearily replied: “Look here, my friend, you are only making a fool of yourself by exposing yourself to the ridicule which I have thus far succeeded in bringing upon you every time you have interrupted me. You ought to know that men whose business it is to speak in public, make it a part of their business to have something always ready for just such fellows as you are. You see you stand no show against a man who has met, a hundred times, just such flings as you seem to fancy are original with yourself; so you may as well, to use a popular expression, ‘dry up’ at once.’ ”79

  Lincoln also defeated hecklers in Vandalia. When a Democratic physician interrupted him, calling Frémont a “wooly head,” Lincoln retorted: “What … has Fremont said, that you call him a wooly head? I ask you, sir?”

  The doctor offered no response.

  “You can make this charge, and yet, when called upon to justify it, your lips are sealed,” Lincoln said.

  As the doctor consulted with friends, Lincoln remarked, “That’s right, gentlemen, take counsel together, and give me your answer.”

  Finally, the heckler said that Fremont “found the wooly horse [i.e., supported abolitionism] and ate dogs.”

  “That ain[’]t true—but if it was, how does it prove that Fremont is a wooly head—how?” Lincoln queried.

  The doctor, “wearing the expression of a man standing on a bed of live coals, did not get off any answer.” Lincoln closed the colloquy saying, “You’re treed, my friend.”80

  In early August, Lincoln swung throughout southeastern Illinois. At Grand View he was accompanied by Henry P. H. Bromwell, who recalled that Lincoln “made one of the most masterly speeches of his life, and his jovial spirit seemed to fill the assembly” even though the room contained more than a hundred Fillmore and Buchanan supporters and only half a dozen Republicans.81 In nearby Shelbyville, Lincoln and Democrat Anthony Thornton, an “aristocrat in mien, deportment, and bearing, commensurately financed, elegantly attired and possessing unusual ability with energy to use it,” were to debate on August 9. Thornton recollected that because “it was my meeting and as a matter of courtesy, I consented that Mr. Lincoln should open the discussion. He commenced at two o’clock and spoke until nearly five. He knew he was addressing people who sympathized with the South, and he made a most ingenious and plausible speech. He, however, spoke so very long that I became apprehensive as to any effort I might make to a wearied crowd. I began my reply by telling one of Mr. Lincoln’s stories and thus obtained the attention of the crowd and made a short speech.”82 The Democratic press ridiculed Lincoln’s address as “prosy and dull in the extreme—all about ‘freedom,’ ‘liberty’ and niggers.”83 With characteristic modesty, Lincoln said that since there were only sixteen registered Republicans in Shelby County, “however poorly I may defend my cause, I can hardly harm it, if I do it no good.”84

  Later that month Lincoln spoke in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Alluding to Stephen A. Douglas’s reluctance to specify just how and when the people of Kansas could, under his popular sovereignty doctrine, prohibit slavery, Lincoln sarcastically referred to the Little Giant as “a great man—at keeping from answering questions he don
’t want to answer.” Cogently Lincoln argued that once slavery managed to take root in Kansas, attempts to expel it would fail: “suppose that there are ten men who go into Kansas to settle. Nine of these are opposed to slavery. One has ten slaves. The slaveholder is a good man in other respects; he is a good neighbor, and being a wealthy man, he is enabled to do the others many neighborly kindnesses. They like the man, though they don’t like the system by which he holds his fellow-men in bondage. And here let me say, that in intellectual and physical structure, our Southern brethren do not differ from us. They are, like us, subject to passions, and it is only their odious institution of slavery, that makes the breach between us. These ten men of whom I was speaking, live together three or four years; they intermarry; their family ties are strengthened. And who wonders that in time, the people learn to look upon slavery with complacency? This is the way in which slavery is planted, and gains so firm a foothold. I think this is a strong card that the Nebraska party have played, and won upon, in this game.”

  Here, as elsewhere, Lincoln urged all opponents of the peculiar institution to abjure Fillmore, even though he was not an avowed friend of slavery or the Kansas-Nebraska Act. To those who denied that Northerners had any stake in the slavery expansion debate, Lincoln pointed out that they had an obvious interest in preserving the territories “for the homes of free white people.” Northerners also had an interest in keeping the principle of freedom alive, for the nation prospered and grew strong because it was free and “every man can make himself.”

  Lincoln protested against the Richmond Enquirer’s assertion that “slaves are far better off than Freemen.” In response he exclaimed: “What a mistaken view do these men have of Northern laborers! They think that men are always to remain laborers here—but there is no such class. The man who labored for another last year, this year labors for himself, and next year he will hire others to labor for him.”