The Day Lincoln Lost

by Charles Rosenberg

  There was a scattering of applause from the floor and the gallery.

  Lincoln noticed that a large camera and tripod had been set up in the far left wing of the gallery, aimed squarely at him and the other two candidates. With the three of them sitting in one place, the photographer must hope to get an unblurred picture. If he succeeds, Lincoln thought, it will become a very famous photograph.

  As if reading his thoughts, Pennington said, “Gentlemen of the House, we are about to take a photograph.” He then motioned up to the photographer, who looked at Lincoln and the two others and shouted, “Gentlemen, don’t move!”

  To Lincoln’s amusement, none of them did—photographers seemed to have been granted the right to freeze life. After what seemed an eternity, the photographer finally yelled, “We are done!” and everyone relaxed.

  After that, Lincoln watched as the clerk of the House, assisted by two burly men, carried in an old wooden box with a hinged top with a small slit in it. Two metal straps ran down from the top of the box onto the front, where each was fastened to the front of the box by a padlock run through a hasp. Pennington described the procedure to be followed, explaining that each state’s delegation would take a secret vote and then record on a white card distributed by the clerk the name of the state and the name of the candidate who had won the votes of a majority of its delegation. If a state delegation proved unable to find a majority for any candidate, a member of the delegation should deposit a blank card in the box, bearing only the name of the state.

  “For those five states whose delegations are not among us today, I will deposit a blank card on behalf of each,” Pennington said.

  “To win election as president a candidate must receive the affirmative votes of a majority of the states. Accordingly, there being 34 states in this Union, a winning candidate must receive the affirmative vote of at least 18 states.”

  A congressman in the front row rose. “May I be recognized, Mr. Speaker?”

  “The Chair recognizes the gentleman from Illinois.”

  “Mr. Speaker, there being no still extant house rule with regard to this procedure, I move that, given the absence of five states from this chamber by alleged secession from the Union, that your announced procedure be revised to consider, for this purpose only, that there be only 29 states still in the Union and that a majority of those—15 states—be considered sufficient to select a president.”

  Lincoln stiffened. The congressman who had made the motion was a Republican from Illinois whom he did not know. Was Pennington attempting to do what Lincoln had specifically asked him not to?

  Pennington looked down at the man and said, “I had anticipated that such a motion might be made. Before we convened I consulted with the Messenger to the Speaker on the issue, and your motion is out of order. Please be seated. The chair will not entertain any similar motions.”

  As Lincoln felt his body relax, there was a loud noise in the back of the gallery, and someone shouted, “Death to traitors!” Lincoln instinctively turned his head to see what had happened, and was just in time to see three soldiers wrestle a man to the ground and drag him back out the door. Lincoln had not realized there were soldiers there, guarding them. He wondered which of them the man had called a traitor. All of them perhaps? Only him?

  On the floor, delegations seemed to have caucused quickly because men were already lined up, ready to slip white cards into the ballot box.

  “Are there any more states still to vote?” Pennington said. When there was no response, Pennington said, “The tellers will count the ballots.” Two men who’d been sitting to the side of the dais came down and removed the ballot box to another table. Each one, carrying a separate key, opened one of the two locks and one man removed the white cards and counted them.

  “Mr. Speaker, I count cards from 34 states,” he said in a loud voice. He handed the cards to the other man, who counted them again and said, in an even louder voice, “Mr. Speaker, I also count 34.”

  Each man went separately through the cards, marked down his count on a tally sheet and signed it. They compared their two tally sheets, nodded their heads, sealed the cards into a large envelope, and passed it and the tally sheets up to the Speaker.

  Pennington reviewed them and said, “We have the vote.”

  Lincoln looked down and saw that he was gripping the handles of his chair. He glanced at Douglas who was doing the same. When he looked at Breckinridge, the man looked almost asleep.

  “I have reviewed the tally sheets and found them to match,” Pennington said. “The vote is Abraham Lincoln 16 states, Stephen Douglas 6 states, John Breckinridge 5 states, with the cards of 7 states left blank.” He paused. “Unless there is a protest, we will commence in thirty minutes to have a second ballot. The clerk will distribute another set of cards.”

  Lincoln noticed that Pennington had chosen not to announce how each state had voted. Lincoln supposed the tally would be recorded in the formal record and he could examine it there later.

  As he waited for the next vote to take place, he looked again at the floor of the House. Where everyone had been orderly, indeed almost tense, during the first vote, now congressmen were milling about, talking and laughing.

  He felt a presence beside him. It was Annabelle.

  “May I join you for a moment?” she said.

  “Of course. But how can you protect me if you’re down here with me instead of up there by the door?”

  “There is now practically a whole battalion of soldiers out in the hallway. There had been only two to start with, but after that first man got in, someone sent more.”

  “Who was that man?”

  “All I can tell you is that he was white, middle-aged and had a graying beard.”

  “Could you tell where he was from?”

  “He had a Southern accent I associate with Mississippi.”

  Lincoln looked at her and saw that she had a big smile on her face. “Why the big smile?” he said.

  Annabelle reached into her ever-present bag and handed him a telegram. He pulled his reading glasses out of his pocket and read it aloud in a whisper. “Lucy safe in Canada. Allan.”

  Lincoln looked at her and grinned. “How wonderful.”

  After that, they chatted for a while, until Lincoln looked closely at her and said, “There is something different about you today, Mrs. Carter. You look...well, I can’t quite figure out what it is.”

  Her face reddened and she said, “Hopp...I mean Clarence, has asked me to marry him.”

  “Did you accept?”

  “Yes.”

  “Congratulations!”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Lincoln.”

  “We will need to celebrate,” he said. “And soon.”

  “That would be wonderful. But for now I do need to return to my post in the back, where I can see you and those around you.” She left abruptly.

  Annabelle had not been gone long when Douglas got up from his seat, came over and said, “I know I am a poor substitute for the beautiful woman who just left, but may I join you?”

  “Of course, Senator. It will be an honor.”

  Lincoln rose, they shook hands and then sat back down, next to one another.

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  “Senator, should we invite the vice president to join us, too?” Lincoln said.

  Douglas pointed to Lincoln’s right. “He has left.”

  Lincoln looked and saw that Douglas was correct. “Where do you think he’s gone?”

  “A guess? Now that he’ll no longer be in office—he must have concluded he can’t win here today—I assume he’ll go back to Kentucky. And if it secedes, he’ll go with it.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “He may go south anyway.”

  “We didn’t see each other at all during the campaign,” Lincoln said. “It is perhaps unusual to come together like thi
s, at the very end.”

  “We’ve known each other almost all of our adult lives,” Douglas said. “And said some bitter things about each other perhaps.”

  Lincoln thought about it for a few seconds. “Yes, that, too. But our disputes have been about policy at least, which is what I have lived for all my life, as have you.”

  “They are starting the count again,” Lincoln said. “I fear neither of us is going to win and then Herschel Johnson will be president.”

  “If that happens, I fear the Union is gone,” Douglas said.

  “Yes, I fear the same, although you are the one who chose him as your running mate.”

  Douglas didn’t respond.

  They sat in silence for a while as the tellers once again tallied the vote and handed their tally sheets up to the Speaker.

  Pennington began to read from the tallies. “The totals are, on this second ballot, Lincoln 16, Douglas 6, Breckinridge 5, Blanks still 7. No candidate for president has achieved the needed majority, and therefore no president has been selected.”

  People who had been milling about on the floor seemed suddenly frozen in place and an eerie silence descended momentarily, then broke into loud exclamations and shouting.

  Pennington banged his gavel. “The House will come to order!”

  After the members had quieted, Pennington said, “We will now have a third ballot. In order to encourage the members to consider their votes carefully, I intend to make this the last ballot.”

  “Do you think that is a good idea or a poor idea?” Lincoln said.

  “I don’t know,” Douglas said. “But I hope there will be movement on this last ballot.”

  Suddenly, Douglas stood and shouted, “Mr. Speaker, as a member of the other body, I ask consent to speak here in this honorable House.”

  Pennington looked shocked.

  Lincoln wondered whether Douglas was going to make one more argument as to why he ought to prevail. If he did, would Lincoln need to respond? Would this be the Lincoln-Douglas debate redux? Would they have to do it here, shouting from the balcony?

  Finally, Pennington, after a moment of silence, said, “Unless there be objection, Senator Douglas may have the privilege of speaking here.”

  He waited a few seconds. “There being no objection, Senator Douglas, please proceed. And if you would prefer to come down to the floor, you are of course most welcome. And we will extend the privilege as well to our former member, Mr. Lincoln.”

  Douglas remained standing and, raising his voice in order to be heard, said, “I can say what I wish to say from here. I will be brief. Gentlemen, the Union is at stake. If we fail to elect a president here today from among the three of us—the people who were put forward for the office by our parties—I fear it will be the end of the Union as we know it. And, I believe, the end of our prosperity and ultimately the end of democracy in this hemisphere.”

  Lincoln wondered where Douglas was going. It seemed an odd beginning if he intended to tout his own candidacy.

  Douglas drew in a great breath, and said, “Therefore, to the extent any member of this great House feels any obligation to vote for me because I and they are both members of the great Democratic Party, to the extent it is within my power, I release them from that obligation. And with all my heart I urge a vote for Abraham Lincoln of Illinois.”

  He sat down, amid a great murmur that rose up from the floor.

  “Mr. Lincoln, do you wish a reply?” Pennington said.

  Lincoln rose and said, “I need no reply and I thank the great patriot from Illinois, Senator Douglas, who has devoted his life to our country.”

  “We will have the third ballot now,” Pennington said.

  As the members were caucusing and lining up to slip their white cards into the ballot box again, Lincoln turned to Douglas and said, “I am most appreciative. But why did you do that?”

  “It is simple,” Douglas said. “You had the most popular votes and the most electoral votes. Therefore, among the three of us, you most deserve to be president.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And there is one more thing. Much as we have had our policy differences, I know you love this Union as much as I do and will move heaven and earth to preserve it.”

  “Thank you again. Now we will find out if your gesture has had the effect you—and I—hope for.”

  The balloting and the tabulating were quicker this time. Pennington looked over the tallies and paused before starting to read them. Lincoln looked at his face to see if he could discern anything. He thought Pennington looked grim and braced himself for the worst. He gripped the arms of his chair and saw that Douglas had done the same.

  Pennington began to speak. “The tabulations are Lincoln 20, Douglas 3, Breckinridge 6, blank ballots 5. Abraham Lincoln has been chosen as the next president of the United States.”

  The House erupted in cheers. Lincoln stood and acknowledged them.

  Douglas rose, extended his hand and said, “Congratulations, Mr. President-elect.”

  “Thank you, Senator.”

  Lincoln was about to say something further to Douglas when a giant of a man in an army uniform, with three stars on his epaulettes, appeared beside him and said, “Mr. President-elect, I am General Winfield Scott, Commanding General of the United States Army.”

  “I know who you are, General.”

  “I believe you are in need of protection. I have brought troops with me who will escort you back to your hotel and protect you there until your inauguration, which is only three weeks hence.”

  Lincoln followed Scott up the gallery steps, nodding his head at the applause that followed him, thinking that his life would never be the same.

  At the top of the steps, he saw Annabelle standing a few feet away, looking out from behind one of the soldiers. He caught her eye, grinned and said, loud enough for her to hear, “White House wedding!”

  And with that, he walked into history.

  * * *

  Historical Notes

  THE REAL ELECTION

  Abraham Lincoln won the presidential election of 1860. Although he had only 39.9 percent of the popular vote nationwide, he had a majority of the electoral vote—180 out of 303, as well as a plurality of the popular vote at approximately 1.9 million votes. Unlike in the novel, he handily won both Pennsylvania and Indiana, as well as Oregon and California. The other three candidates all had many fewer electoral votes, although Douglas was second in popular vote (while being fourth in electoral votes) with approximately 1.4 million votes.

  HISTORICAL CHARACTERS WITH MAJOR ROLES IN THE NOVEL

  Abraham Lincoln was inaugurated as the sixteenth president of the United States on March 4, 1861, and took the oath of office on the East portico of the United States Capitol. Forces in South Carolina fired on Fort Sumter on April 12, 1861. Three days later, Lincoln called for seventy-five thousand volunteers to help put down the rebellion. Several days later, Senator Stephen Douglas met privately with Lincoln at the White House and urged that the call-up be expanded to two hundred thousand men. Lincoln was shot in the head at Ford’s Theater in Washington, DC, on April 14, 1865. He died in the early morning of April 15. He was fifty-six. More than sixteen thousand books have been written about him.

  * * *

  Stephen Douglas, who had served two terms in the United States Senate, died of typhoid fever on June 3, 1861. He was forty-eight.

  Abby Kelley Foster was a nationally known radical abolitionist lecturer whose many fervent followers were known as Abby Kelleyites. Her fiery speeches were so feared by those who wished to push the issue of slavery aside that many towns tried to ban her from coming to speak. She founded two influential abolitionist newspapers and was a prodigious fundraiser for the cause. She was also an early suffragette, but fell out with other suffragettes over the issue of the Fifteenth Amendment, which gave the vote to all mal
e citizens. Many suffragettes opposed the Amendment because it did not also give the vote to women. Abby supported the Amendment despite that egregious flaw. She was married to Stephen Symonds Foster, himself a radical abolitionist who was on occasion thrown bodily out of churches where he’d gone to speak on abolition. The Fosters’ home (Liberty Farm) in Worcester, Massachusetts, is a National Historic Landmark. So far as I know, Abby never went west of Indiana. I have brought her to Springfield, Illinois, for purposes of the novel.

  Reverend Albert Hale was the pastor of Second Presbyterian church of Springfield, Illinois, (now called Westminster Presbyterian) from 1839 to 1867. He was a strong abolitionist from an early age, as witnessed by a letter he wrote in 1838 supporting the need to support an abolitionist agent in Illinois. The letter is archived at the Lincoln Presidential Library in Springfield. The historical record on Reverend Hale is thin, but I have filled it in a way that I think honors his life and work. And although he was apparently a serious evangelist with a somewhat dour and stern demeanor (leavened by his wife, Abiah Hale), I have read several things about him that suggest to me that he on occasion had a twinkle in his eye. I hope he would be pleased by the way in which I have depicted him and the major role I’ve given him in the novel.

  President James Buchanan was the fifteenth president of the United States. After his term ended, he returned to Wheatland, his home near Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and wrote a memoir, Mr. Buchanan’s Administration on the Eve of the Rebellion. In it, he defended his conduct in office. He died in 1868. Most historians rate him the worst US president. Jeremiah Black served as attorney general for much of Buchanan’s term.

  John Breckinridge, who served as Buchanan’s vice president from 1857 to 1861, fled south during the Civil War, joined the Confederate Army, eventually becoming a major general and, ultimately, the Confederate States Secretary of War. After the Union victory, he fled to Cuba in a small boat, then to England, and eventually to Canada. He was pardoned by President Andrew Johnson in 1868 in a general amnesty and returned to Kentucky, where he died in 1875. In a continuing claim to familial fame, Breckinridge’s great-grandson, John “Bunny” Breckinridge, starred as the alien ruler in Ed Wood’s classic 1959 cult science fiction movie, Plan 9 from Outer Space.