Lincoln

by David Herbert Donald

  It was equally important to have the Republican National Convention meet in Chicago, where the newspapers, the crowds, and the publicity would be heavily tilted in Lincoln’s favor. The rival site was St. Louis, where the Bates influence would be strong. When Judd, as a member of the Republican National Committee, seemed slow to grasp the importance of this choice, Lincoln wrote him that “some of our friends here” thought the location of the convention of great consequence. With this prodding, Judd carried the case for Chicago to the meeting of the national committee, which chose the Windy City by a margin of one vote—his own.

  Even more important was the action of the Illinois Republican state convention, which met at Decatur on May 9–10, a week before the national convention. To house the gathering the citizens of the town had followed a practice adopted by Republicans throughout the West and constructed what they called a Wigwam, a barnlike wooden structure capable of holding the hundreds of delegates and spectators. For many who attended, the principal business of this convention was the choice of a candidate for governor; eventually the supporters of Swett and Yates combined to defeat Judd and to give the nomination to Yates. As to presidential candidates, Illinois Republicans were divided, but it was generally recognized that the convention would give a complimentary endorsement of Lincoln as a favorite son. Even David Davis thought it was a foregone conclusion that the national convention would choose either Bates or Seward; a first-ballot vote for Lincoln would simply be a compliment.

  But a few of Lincoln’s warmest supporters were determined to make the Decatur convention a launching pad for a serious presidential campaign. They felt that what had been lacking so far was a catchy slogan, like “Log Cabin and Hard Cider,” which had done so much to elect President Harrison in 1840. Of course, Lincoln was already widely known as “Old Abe” or “Honest Abe,” but these sobriquets seemed so colorless as to be almost negative. Richard J. Oglesby, a vigorous young Decatur politician, felt Lincoln needed a more dynamic image. Consulting with the elderly John Hanks, a first cousin of Lincoln’s mother, he located a rail fence that Hanks and Lincoln had put up in 1830 and carried two of the rails home with him. On the first day of the convention, during an interruption in the voting for governor, Oglesby introduced Hanks, who, with an assistant, marched down the aisle carrying into the Wigwam the two rails labeled:

  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 of Macon County.

  The label was not entirely accurate, for Lincoln’s father had not been the first pioneer in the county and it was John, rather than Thomas, Hanks who had helped split the rails, but nobody cared. As the rails, decorated with flags and streamers, were carried to the front of the Wigwam, the crowd burst into deafening applause. Lincoln, called to the stand, blushed and told the delegates that he had indeed built a cabin and split rails thirty years ago near Decatur. Whether these particular rails were taken from that fence, he could not vouch, but, he said in his disarming way, “he had mauled many and many better ones since he had grown to manhood.”

  The cheers that greeted Lincoln’s remarks suggested that even his managers had underestimated his popularity. Now labeled “the Rail Splitter”—just as Andrew Jackson had been “Old Hickory” and Harrison “Tippecanoe”—he acquired an image with enormous popular appeal: he could be packaged not merely as a powerful advocate of the free-soil ideology or as a folksy, unpretentious, storytelling campaigner, but also as the embodiment of the self-made man, the representative of free labor, and the spokesman of the great West. It mattered very little that this myth—like most myths—was only partially true: Lincoln, in fact, had little love for his pioneer origins; he disliked physical labor and left it as soon as he could; he owed his early advancement as much to the efforts of interested friends like John Todd Stuart, Stephen T. Logan, and David Davis as to his own exertions. Rather than a simple backwoodsman, he was a prominent and successful attorney representing the most powerful interests in emerging corporate America. The delegates at Decatur understood that myth was more important than reality. They cheered now not just for a favorite son but for a viable Illinois presidential candidate.

  After the convention adjourned for the day, Lincoln met with Judd, Davis, and a few other friends in a grove near the Wigwam, where, lying on the grass, they carefully studied the list of delegates to be sent to Chicago. Lincoln personally selected the four at-large delegates. Judd, as a member of the Republican National Committee and as a representative of Chicago interests, was one, of course. Recognizing the importance of the German vote, Lincoln named Koerner for the second slot. For the third he picked Browning, who had great influence among conservative old-line Whigs and, especially, among the former Know Nothings. Knowing that Browning preferred Bates, Lincoln relied on his old friend’s personal loyalty and his devotion to Illinois interests. The final member of the team was David Davis.

  Lincoln and his friends had no control over the selection of the eighteen other delegates who represented the individual congressional districts, but they suspected that about eight of them were Seward supporters. To prevent them from defecting, Lincoln’s advisers agreed to ram through the convention the next day a resolution that John M. Palmer would introduce: “That Abraham Lincoln is the choice of the Republican party of Illinois for the Presidency, and the delegates from this State are instructed to use all honorable means to secure his nomination by the Chicago Convention, and to vote as a unit for him.” At Chicago, Illinois would be unanimous for Lincoln.

  IV

  Lincoln was tempted to attend the Chicago convention. After he returned from Decatur, he told Leonard Swett that “he was almost too much of a candidate to go, and not quite enough to stay at home.” On reflection, he decided to remain in Springfield while the delegates began to assemble. He cordially greeted the occasional member who passed through Springfield, assuring several of them that he was a candidate only for the presidency and did not wish to be considered for the second place on the Republican ticket. Recognizing that Seward would have the votes of the more extreme antislavery men, Lincoln sought to ensure that he would be presented in Chicago as a moderate candidate. To Edward L. Baker, editor of the Illinois State Journal, who was going to the convention, he entrusted a brief note: “I agree with Seward in his ‘Irrepressible Conflict,’ but I do not endorse his ‘Higher Law’ doctrine.” The former he viewed as little more than a restatement of his own house-divided thesis, while he recognized that Seward’s invocation of a law higher than the Constitution frightened moderate and conservative Republicans.

  Lincoln was not directly involved in the tumultuous proceedings of the second Republican National Convention that assembled on May 16–18 in the huge Wigwam just completed in Chicago. The Illinois delegation took no prominent part in the first day’s debates on the credentials of members. Nor did it attempt to shape the party platform, which somewhat moderated the tone, though not the meaning, of the 1856 denunciation of the slave power. Illinois Republicans went along with the party’s attempt to broaden its appeal by endorsing a homestead act to please western farmers; federal appropriations for improving rivers and harbors to satisfy Detroit, Chicago, and other cities on the Great Lakes; and, in opaque language, a moderately protective tariff to appease the iron interests of Pennsylvania and New Jersey. With much difficulty they agreed on a compromise resolution that on the one hand carefully refrained from mentioning, much less condemning, the Know Nothings and, on the other, cautiously opposed the Massachusetts plan of extending the period before naturalized citizens could vote; it ended with a balanced call for “giving a full and efficient protection to the rights of all classes of citizens, whether native or naturalized, both at home and abroad.”

  The focus of Lincoln’s representatives in Chicago was not on the platform but on the presidency. They found Seward’s position stronger than they
had anticipated because the Democratic National Convention, deadlocked between Douglas’s backers and the Southern states-rights advocates, had adjourned without making a nomination. Already assured of the support of what might be called Greater New England—the states of the upper North, ranging from Massachusetts through New York to Michigan, Wisconsin, Iowa, and Minnesota—Seward might win if the Democrats continued to deny the nomination to Douglas, their strongest candidate in the North. But realistic Republicans anticipated that when the Democratic National Convention reconvened in June, Douglas would be the nominee, with formidable strength in the Ohio Valley region—including Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Kentucky. Seward’s rivals were further encouraged when the new National Union party, more or less a reincarnation of the Whig and American parties, on May 10 nominated John Bell of Tennessee and Edward Everett of Massachusetts; Seward could not compete with this ticket for votes in the upper South. Unless Seward came into the convention with great strength on the first ballot, Republican managers were bound to pause and look for a more available nominee.

  The shrewdest Republicans at Chicago were looking for a candidate who, in addition to carrying all the Northern states that had gone for Frémont in 1856, could win in Pennsylvania, Indiana, and Illinois. Seward, for all his strength elsewhere, was weak in these three states. Chase had the support of only a part of his own Ohio delegation. Cameron had no following outside of Pennsylvania. Despite the vigorous backing of Greeley and the powerful Francis Preston Blair family in Maryland and Missouri, Bates probably could not carry even his own home state.

  That left Lincoln. He was not a dark horse—i.e., a nominee unexpectedly chosen after a deadlock of the leading candidates—but from the first day of the convention a serious contender backed by the unanimous delegation from the critical state of Illinois. Though he was not widely known except in the West, he appeared to be exactly what the Republican party needed: he was unequivocally opposed to the expansion of slavery; he had for years favored economic development, including internal improvements and the protective tariff so dear to Pennsylvanians; he had strong emotional appeal to former Whigs who still considered themselves followers of Henry Clay; and he had managed to oppose the Know Nothing party without indulging in moral condemnation of the nativists. If the Republican delegates at Chicago followed the dictates of political reason, he would be their choice.

  But, of course, Lincoln knew that emotion plays as large a role in politics as reason, and that is why he wanted his team of managers in place at Chicago, ready to provide information, squelch rumors, listen to complaints, give moral support, soothe ruffled egos, and flatter doubting delegates. From his rooms at the Tremont Hotel, David Davis took charge of the operation. His primary objective was to secure at least one hundred votes for Lincoln on the first ballot—more than any other candidate except Seward—with other votes in reserve so that Lincoln would appear to gain strength on a second ballot. For this purpose he sent out members of his team to talk with delegations where they might have influence; Swett, for instance, visited the delegation from Maine, the state of his birth, and S. C. Parks canvassed those from his native state of Vermont. Browning proved invaluable in talking with delegations that teetered between supporting Bates and Lincoln; known as a former Bates man, he was the better able to show the weaknesses of the Missouri candidate. Logan kept an eye on the Kentucky delegates; he carried a private letter from Lincoln authorizing him to withdraw his name if he thought it prudent to do so. Medill was in charge of newspaper publicity for Lincoln, and, aided by C. H. Ray, he kept up a barrage of pro-Lincoln editorials in the influential Chicago Press and Tribune, beginning with a three-foot editorial headed “The Winning Man, Abraham Lincoln” on the day before the convention came to order. Judd, in charge of seating arrangements in the Wigwam, took pains to put the New York delegation at one end of the hall and the Pennsylvania delegation at the other; separated by pro-Lincoln supporters, they could not confer or influence each other during the balloting. Aware that Thurlow Weed, commandant of the Seward forces, had come to Chicago on a special thirteen-car train filled with the New York senator’s supporters, Judd also arranged for Illinois railroads to offer special rates so that thousands of Lincoln men could attend the convention. After the first day, when it seemed likely that Seward men would pack the Wigwam, Jesse W. Fell and Ward Hill Lamon oversaw the printing of duplicate tickets and made sure they went to Lincoln men who would come early and occupy the seats before the Seward backers arrived.

  Inevitably there was talk at this convention—as at all political conventions—of horse trading between candidates and of promising undecided or unscrupulous delegates future patronage, or sometimes immediate cash, for their votes. Weed was prepared to make deals in Chicago just as he had long done in Albany. He dangled before the Illinois delegates a promise of the vice presidential nomination for Lincoln if they supported Seward on the first ballot and also offered to contribute $100,000 to the campaign chests of the Illinois and Indiana Republican parties.

  Some of Lincoln’s supporters wanted to play the same game. “You need a few trusty friends here to say words for you that may be necessary to be said,” Ray warned Lincoln as the convention was assembling. “A pledge or two may be necessary when the pinch comes.” Delahay, the Kansas Republican, whose expenses in Chicago Lincoln was paying, had a similar idea. He wrote the candidate that Davis, Dubois, and the other members of his team were “too honest to advance your Prospects as surely as I would like to see” and too innocent to compete with New York politicians, who were “desperate gamblers.” Lincoln ought to pick one representative from Pennsylvania, Ohio, Massachusetts, and Iowa and promise each full control over all patronage in his state if he delivered the vote of his delegation. “I know that you have no relish for such a Game,” Delahay continued, “but it is an old maxim that you must fight the devil with fire.”

  In response to such suggestions Lincoln sent a terse message to Chicago: “Make no contracts that will bind me.” For the most part, his directive was unnecessary. Though Davis’s team had been working incessantly to woo uncommitted delegates, they did not find it necessary to resort to bribery or corruption. Subsequent stories about the numerous bargains Davis and his aides made in Chicago were mostly based on speculation by ill-informed politicians who had been surprised by the showing Lincoln made at the convention. For instance, the charge that Davis promised a cabinet post to Caleb B. Smith in order to secure the vote of the Indiana delegation on the first ballot had no foundation. Before the convention met, a delegate from Vincennes, Indiana, alerted Lincoln “that the whole of Indiana might not be difficult to get,” and at his instruction Davis and Dubois paid special attention to the Indiana delegation in Chicago. Indiana Republicans were looking for an alternative to Seward because Henry S. Lane, their candidate for governor, felt that he had no chance for success if the New Yorker headed the ticket. Some favored Bates, who appealed to the old Whigs, but others supported Lincoln. At a caucus of the delegation Bates’s managers tried to woo the Hoosiers, but they were routed when Koerner reminded the delegates that German Republicans from nearly every Northern state, meeting at the Deutsches Haus in Chicago on May 14, had agreed to bolt the party before supporting any candidate, like Bates, who had a nativist record. The Indiana delegation then agreed to vote unanimously for Lincoln on the first ballot. No special pledge was needed to gain Smith’s support; after serving with Lincoln in Congress and working with him to elect Zachary Taylor, he was proud to be chosen to second Lincoln’s nomination in Chicago.

  There was more credibility to the report that Davis made a bargain with the Pennsylvania delegation, offering a cabinet post to Simon Cameron if his supporters went for Lincoln after the initial ballot. Judge Joseph Casey, Cameron’s representative in Chicago, demanded that Davis and Swett pledge that Cameron would become Secretary of the Treasury in Lincoln’s cabinet, with control of all federal patronage in Pennsylvania, in return for the votes of that state on the second bal
lot. Davis responded vaguely that Pennsylvania would surely have a place in the cabinet and that he would personally recommend Cameron for it. Assuming Davis was authorized to speak for Lincoln, Casey thought he had received a pledge and shortly after the convention wrote Cameron that the switch of Pennsylvania votes to Lincoln “was arranged carefully and unconditionally in reference to Yourself—to our satisfaction.” But Swett, who was present at the conference between Davis and the Pennsylvanian, came away with a different understanding and told a friend in a private letter written only nine days after the convention, “No pledges have been made, no mortgages executed.” Davis himself, believing he had made only a personal, conditional promise, flatly denied any bargain: “Mr. Lincoln is committed to no one on earth in relation to office—He promised nothing to gain his nomination, and has promised nothing.” That also was Lincoln’s understanding when, three days after his nomination, he assured Joshua R. Giddings, “The responsible position assigned me, comes without conditions, save only such honorable ones as are fairly implied.”

  V

  While the Republican National Convention was in session, Lincoln went quietly about his business in Springfield, but he eagerly sought to learn what was going on in Chicago. Up early on Friday, May 18, the day when nominations were to be made, he passed some time playing “fives”—a variety of handball—with some other men in a vacant lot next to the Illinois State Journal office. Learning that James C. Conkling had unexpectedly returned from Chicago, he went over to his law office to hear the latest news from the convention. Stretched out on an old settee, so short that his feet stuck out over the end, he listened to Conkling’s prediction that Seward could not be nominated and that the convention would choose Lincoln. Lincoln demurred, unwilling to tempt fate by being overoptimistic, and said that either Bates or Chase would probably be the choice. Getting up, he announced: “Well, Conkling, I believe I will go back to my office and practice law.”