Team Of Rivals Part 45

That Lincoln was also preoccupied with death is clear from the themes of many of his favorite poems that addressed the ephemeral nature of life and reflected his own painful acquaintance with death. He particularly cherished "Mortality," by William Knox, and transcribed a copy for the Stantons.

Oh! Why should the spirit of mortal be proud?

Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,

A flash of lightning, a break of the wave,

He pa.s.seth from life to his rest in the grave.

He could recite from memory "The Last Leaf," by Oliver Wendell Holmes, and once claimed to the painter Francis Carpenter that "for pure pathos" there was "nothing finer...in the English language" than the six-line stanza:

The mossy marbles restOn lips that he has prestIn their bloom,And the names he loved to hearHave been carved for many a yearOn the tomb.

Yet, beyond sharing a romantic and philosophical preoccupation with death, the commander in chief and the secretary of war shared the harrowing knowledge that their choices resulted in sending hundreds of thousands of young men to their graves. Stanton's Quaker background made the strain particularly unbearable. As a young man, he had written a pa.s.sionate essay decrying society's exaltation of war. "Why is it," he asked, that military generals "are praised and honored instead of being punished as malefactors?" After all, the work of war is "the making of widows and orphans-the plundering of towns and villages-the exterminating & spoiling of all, making the earth a slaughterhouse." Though governments might argue war's necessity to achieve certain objectives, "how much better might they accomplish their ends by some other means? But if generals are useful so are butchers, and who will say that because a butcher is useful he should be honored?"

Three decades after writing this, Stanton found himself responsible for an army of more than 2 million men. "There could be no greater madness," he reasoned, "than for a man to encounter what I do for anything less than motives that overleap time and look forward to eternity." Lincoln, too, found the horrific scope of the burden hard to fathom. "Doesn't it strike you as queer that I, who couldn't cut the head off of a chicken, and who was sick at the sight of blood, should be cast into the middle of a great war, with blood flowing all about me?"

Like Stanton, the president tried to console himself that the Civil War, however terrible, represented a divine will at work in human affairs. The previous year, he had granted an audience to a group of Quakers, including Eliza Gurney. "If I had had my way," he reportedly said during the meeting, "this war would never have been commenced; if I had been allowed my way this war would have been ended before this, but we find it still continues; and we must believe that He permits it for some wise purpose of his own, mysterious and unknown to us; and though with our limited understandings we may not be able to comprehend it, yet we cannot but believe, that He who made the world still governs it."

He understood the terrible conflict suffered by the Friends, he wrote Mrs. Gurney later. "On principle, and faith, opposed to both war and oppression, they can only practically oppose oppression by war." Their support and their prayers, even as they endured their own "very great trial," would never be forgotten. "Meanwhile," he continued, "we must work earnestly in the best light He gives us, trusting that so working still conduces to the great ends He ordains. Surely He intends some great good to follow this mighty convulsion, which no mortal could make, and no mortal could stay."

AS THE FRIENDSHIP between Stanton and Lincoln deepened, Chase, who had been Stanton's most intimate companion, was increasingly marginalized. Chase maintained a warm relationship with the secretary of war, however. Stanton still wrote affectionate notes to him. "I return your knife which by some means found its way into my pocket," Stanton had written Chase the previous winter. "Let me add that, 'if you love me like I love you no knife can cut our love in two.'" A year later, Stanton would ask Chase to stand as G.o.dfather to his newborn child. Nevertheless, the balance of power between the two men had shifted. Stanton was now a happily married man with four children. The overworked secretary of war no longer begrudged the lack of time Chase was able to spend with him. On the contrary, it was Chase who now had to pay court to Stanton. Deprived of access to vital military decisions, Chase was forced to rely on the war secretary for the latest intelligence. Stanton had once yearned to spend entire evenings in Chase's study; now Chase was lucky to obtain a private conversation with his old friend when he joined the crowd that gathered in the telegraph office at the end of the working day.

"It is painful for one to be so near the springs of action and yet unable to touch them," Chase admitted to an acquaintance. "It is almost like the nightmare in oppressiveness, and worse because there is no illusion. I can only counsel; and that without any certainty of being understood, or, if understood, of being able to obtain concurrence, or, even after concurrence, action."

Chase's frustration with his position was alleviated only by his dreams of future glory, by his dogged hope that he, rather than Lincoln, would be the Republican nominee in 1864. In an era when single-term presidencies were the rule, he believed that if he could outflank Lincoln on Reconstruction-an issue most dear to radical Republicans-he could capture the nomination. The recent victories at Gettysburg and Vicksburg had created an illusion in the North that the end of the war was at hand. Questions of how the rebel states should be brought back into the Union began to dominate discussions in the halls of Congress, at dinner parties, in newspaper editorials, and in the smoke-filled bar of the Willard Hotel.

The issue divided the Republican Party. Radicals insisted that only those who had never displayed even indirect support for the Confederacy should be allowed to vote in the redeemed states. Lawyers and teachers who had not been staunch Unionists should not be allowed to resume their professions. Slavery should be immediately abolished without compensation, and newly freed blacks should be allowed to vote in some cases. Conservative Republicans preferred compensated emanc.i.p.ation and a lenient definition of who should gain suffrage. They argued that in every Southern state, a silent majority of non-slaveholders had been dragged into secession by the wealthy plantation owners. It would be unjust to exclude them in the new order so long as they would take an oath to uphold both the Union and emanc.i.p.ation.

It was a.s.sumed in political circles that Lincoln would be the "standard-bearer for the Conservatives," while Chase would be "the champion of the Radicals." The state elections in the fall would presumably serve as the opening round of the presidential race. It was expected that Chase would aggressively promote the candidacies of fellow radicals, who, in turn, would be indebted to him the following year. While Chase's desire for the presidency was no less worthy a pursuit than Lincoln's, Noah Brooks observed, Chase's decision to pursue that ambition from within the president's cabinet rather than resign his seat and openly proclaim his campaign struck many as disingenuous.

Chase's strategy was to approach potential supporters without expressly acknowledging that he would run. Late at night in his study, he wrote hundreds of letters to local officials, congressional leaders, generals, and journalists, citing the failures of the Lincoln administration. "I should fear nothing," he wrote the editor of the Cincinnati Gazette, "if we had An Administration in the first sense of the word guided by a bold, resolute, fa.r.s.eeing, & active mind, guided by an honest, earnest heart. But this we have not. Oh! for energy & economy in the management of the War."

A similar style prevailed in all of his letters. After detailing the flaws in Lincoln's leadership, Chase would suggest the differences that would characterize his own presidency. He denied that he coveted the position, but said he would accept the burden if pressed by his countrymen. "If I were myself controlled merely by personal sentiments I should prefer the reelection of Mr. Lincoln," Chase explained, but "I think that a man of different qualities from those the President has will be needed for the next four years. I am not anxious to be regarded as that man; but I am quite willing to refer that question to the decision of those who agree in thinking that some such man should be had."

As in 1860, Chase took great pains to cultivate the press, not recognizing that it was too early to extract binding commitments. He was thrilled by Horace Greeley's letter in late September, telling him that he knew no one "better qualified for President than yourself, nor one whom I should more cordially support." Chase apparently discounted Greeley's closing caveat that in six months, events might dictate the need to concentrate on another candidate. Similarly, while Chase elicited a.s.surance from Hiram Barney, the head of the New York Custom House, that he was his "first choice for the presidency," Barney insisted on deciding only when the time came "whether yourself, the President, or some other person should receive it."

Lincoln was fully aware of what Chase was doing. Governor Dennison alerted him that Chase was "working like a beaver," and Seward cautioned that several organizations were "fixing to control delegate appointments for Mr. Chase." Ohio congressman Samuel c.o.x warned the White House that Chase had tied up "nearly the whole strength of the New England States." A Pennsylvanian politician informed the White House that Chase had so ardently campaigned for his support that he could see the "Presidency glaring out of both eyes." John Hay learned that Chase had called on the New York journalist Theodore Tilton, working "all a summer's day" to maneuver the influential Independent to his side.

Whereas Lincoln's loyal young secretary was disturbed by "Chase's mad hunt after the Presidency," Lincoln was amused. Chase's incessant presidential ambitions reminded him of the time when he was "plowing corn on a Kentucky farm" with a lazy horse that suddenly sped forward energetically to "the end of the furrow." Upon reaching the horse, he discovered "an enormous chin-fly fastened upon him, and knocked him off," not wanting "the old horse bitten in that way." His companion said that it was a mistake to knock it off, for "that's all that made him go."

"Now," Lincoln concluded, "if Mr. [Chase] has a presidential chin-fly biting him, I'm not going to knock him off, if it will only make his department go." Lincoln agreed that his secretary's tactics were in "very bad taste," and "was sorry the thing had begun, for though the matter did not annoy him his friends insisted that it ought to." Lincoln's friends could not understand why the president continued to approve appointments for avid Chase supporters who were known to be "hostile to the President's interests." Lincoln merely a.s.serted that he would rather let "Chase have his own way in these sneaking tricks than getting into a snarl with him by refusing him what he asks." Moreover, he had no thought of dismissing Chase while he was hard at work raising the resources needed to support the immense Union Army.

Lincoln's response to Chase was neither artless nor naive. His old friend Leonard Swett maintained that there never was a greater mistake than the impression that Lincoln was a "frank, guileless, unsophisticated man." In fact, "he handled and moved man remotely as we do pieces upon a chessboard." Nor did Lincoln's posture toward Chase imply a tepid desire for a second term. Swett was correct in supposing that Lincoln "was much more eager for it, than he was for the first one." The Union, emanc.i.p.ation, his reputation, his honor, and his legacy-all depended on the outcome of the ongoing war. But he recognized it was safer to keep Chase as a dubious ally within the administration rather that to cut him loose to mount a full-blown campaign. Meanwhile, so long as Chase remained in the cabinet, Lincoln insisted on treating him with respect and dignity.

That Chase was disconcerted by Lincoln's warmth is evident in a letter he wrote to James Watson Webb, the former editor who was now the American minister to Brazil. After criticizing Lincoln's "disjointed method of administration" and admitting that he had "been often tempted to retire," Chase acknowledged that "the President has always treated me with such personal kindness and has always manifested such fairness and integrity of purpose, that I have not found myself free to throw up my trust.... So I still work on."

Lincoln told a worried Hay that he had "all along clearly seen [Chase's] plan of strengthening himself. Whenever he [sees] that an important matter is troubling me, if I am compelled to decide it in a way to give offense to a man of some influence he always ranges himself in opposition to me and persuades the victim that he has been hardly dealt by and that he (C.) would have arranged it very differently. It was so with Gen. Fremont-with Genl. Hunter when I annulled his hasty proclamation-with Gen. Butler when he was recalled from New Orleans." Recognizing the truth of Lincoln's words, Hay speculated that "Chase would try to make capital out of this Rosecrans business," though Lincoln had simply relieved the general from command of the Department of the Tennessee at Grant's request. Lincoln drolly replied: "I suppose he will, like the bluebottle fly, lay his eggs in every rotten spot he can find."

In late September, as the rift within Missouri's Republican Party threatened to erupt into open warfare, Chase continued his divisive plotting. Lincoln sought to keep radicals and conservatives united against the rebels. Chase aligned himself with the radicals. The struggle centered on Reconstruction. Since the Emanc.i.p.ation Proclamation did not extend to the loyal border states, the people of Missouri were left to determine the fate of slavery independently in their state. The conservatives, led by Frank Blair and Bates's brother-in-law Governor Hamilton Gamble, were in favor of a gradual emanc.i.p.ation that provided protection to slaveholders during a transitional period. Radical leaders such as B. Gratz Brown, Charles Drake, and Henry Blow favored changes in the state const.i.tution that would immediately extinguish slavery.

So flammable had the dispute become that Governor Gamble worried the radicals intended to overthrow the elected state government. For their part, the radicals had come to believe that General John M. Schofield, the military commander of Missouri whom Lincoln had put in place as a neutral figure, had become a conservative partisan. He was accused of abusing his authority by arresting leading radicals and suppressing radical papers under the guise of military necessity.

On September 30, a delegation of radicals led by Charles Drake journeyed to Washington to demand Schofield's removal. The night before the scheduled meeting, Lincoln talked with Hay about the tense situation. He acknowledged Hay's argument that "the Radicals would carry the State and it would be well not to alienate them." Moreover, he believed that "these Radical men have in them the stuff which must save the state and on which we must mainly rely." They would never abandon the cause of emanc.i.p.ation, "while the Conservatives, in casting about for votes to carry through their plans, are tempted to affiliate with those whose record is not clear." If he had to choose, Lincoln told his aide, "if one side must be crushed out & the other cherished," he would "side with the Radicals." On another occasion, he had expressed this affinity more strongly, stating that "they are nearer to me than the other side, in thought and sentiment, though bitterly hostile personally." While they might be "the unhandiest devils in the world to deal with...their faces are set Zionwards."

Nevertheless, Lincoln refused to be coerced into choosing one faction or the other, and resented the radicals' demand that he treat Gamble, Frank Blair, and the conservatives "as copperheads and enemies to the Govt." rather than as mere political opponents. "This is simply monstrous," Lincoln declared, to denounce men who had courageously upheld the Union in the early days, when that affiliation threatened not only their political futures but their very lives. By contrast, the delegation's vociferous leader, Charles Drake, was originally a Southern-leaning Democrat who had delighted in railing against Black Republicans. "Not that he objected to penitent rebels being radical: he was glad of it: but fair play: let not the pot make injurious reference to the black base of the kettle: he was in favor of short statutes of limitations." Welles understood Lincoln's dilemma. "So intense and fierce" were these radicals, he wrote in his diary, that they might well "inflict greater injury-on those Republicans...who do not conform to their extreme radical and fanatical views than on the Rebels in the field." Such vindictiveness, he lamented, was "among the saddest features of the times."

Lincoln a.s.sured Hay that if the radicals could "show that Schofield has done anything wrong & has interfered to their disadvantage with State politics," he would consider their case. But if Schofield had "incurred their ill will by refusing to take sides with them," then it would be an entirely different matter. Indeed: "I cannot do anything contrary to my convictions to please these men, earnest and powerful as they may be."

No sooner had the delegates settled themselves at the Willard Hotel than they received an invitation to spend the evening at Chase's home. When Bates learned of the invitation, he told Gamble he was "surprised and mortified" that Chase had extended his hand to those men he considered mortal enemies, and "still more surprised" when Chase invited him as well. He immediately declined. "I refuse flatly to hold social, friendly intercourse with men, who daily denounce me and all my friends, as traitors." Gamble replied that Bates should hardly be shocked by Chase's willingness to entertain "these dogs persons," for "Mr. Chase is the author of our troubles here." His "criminal ambition" for the presidency had led him to incite the struggle, and he would undoubtedly have the support of every radical paper in the state if he were to decide to run against Lincoln.

The president's meeting with the Missourians lasted over two hours. Drake read his list of demands "as pompously as if it were full of matter instead of wind," noted John Hay. Lincoln listened attentively, allowing his critics to enumerate their grievances. He knew well that these men would be important in the coming presidential canva.s.s, but felt their call for Schofield's dismissal was misguided. He explained his position clearly, calmly, and forcefully, both at the meeting that day and in a letter drafted a few days later. While he acknowledged their version of the turmoil facing Missouri, he was not convinced that Schofield was "responsible for that suffering and wrong." On the contrary, he suggested, all the troubles they described could be explained by the fact that during a civil war, confusion abounds: "Deception breeds and thrives. Confidence dies, and universal suspicion reigns." Until he received evidence that Schofield had used his powers arbitrarily for or against a particular faction, he could not, in good conscience, remove him from command. That evidence had not been provided.

"The President never appeared to better advantage in the world," Hay noted proudly in his diary. "Though He knows how immense is the danger to himself from the unreasoning anger of that committee, he never cringed to them for an instant. He stood where he thought he was right and crushed them with his candid logic." Lincoln emerged from the meeting "in a good humor," Bates observed. "Some of them he said, were not as bad as he supposed." Yet, while clarifying the fact that "whoever commands in Missouri, or elsewhere" was responsible to him, "and not to either radicals or conservatives," Lincoln once again moved to defuse the situation without alienating vital const.i.tuents. On the day the radicals left town, he wrote to remind Schofield that his authority to "arrest individuals, and suppress a.s.semblies, or newspapers" was limited only to those who were "working palpable injury to the Military."

Indeed, several months later, when Lincoln became convinced that Schofield was actually leaning toward the conservatives instead of using "his influence to harmonize the conflicting elements," he decided to replace him with Rosecrans, a man long favored by the radicals. But even then, he engineered the transfer in a manner that protected Schofield's good name, while preserving his own presidential authority to determine when and where to change his commanders.

At this juncture, Frank Blair seriously aggravated matters. That October, returning to Missouri after heroic duty with Grant and Sherman at Vicksburg, the soldier-politician escalated the dissension with an explosive speech. Before an overflowing crowd at Mercantile Library Hall in St. Louis, he proclaimed his firm opposition to every one of the radicals' Reconstruction ideas. Condemning their call for the immediate emanc.i.p.ation of Missouri's slaves, he insisted that no action should be taken until the war was won. He argued that Missourians should focus solely on supporting the Union, deferring all issues regarding slavery. He warned that if the radicals gained control, the country would "degenerate into a revolution like that which afflicted France." They would set themselves up as "judges, witnesses and executioners alike." They would send to the guillotine "men who come back grimed all over with powder from our battle fields" but who happen to disagree with them on Reconstruction.

Blair then turned his ire on Chase, fully aware that the treasury secretary was hoping to ride the radicals' support to the White House. Loyalty to Lincoln and hatred for Chase combined to produce a vitriolic rant in which Blair accused the secretary of manipulating Treasury regulations that governed the cotton trade between North and South to benefit his radical friends and prevent conservative merchants, who "were among the first men to come forward and clothe and arm the troops," from receiving the cotton they desperately needed. As a friendly audience roared its approval, Blair accused Chase of using his cabinet post to create a political machine designed to unseat Lincoln in the next election. In sum, the treasury secretary was a traitor and blackguard indistinguishable from Jefferson Davis himself.

Blair's speech outraged the radicals, who promptly denounced him as a Copperhead and a traitor. The Liberator criticized his vindictive language, observing that "his style of address does him no honor, and will not advance the ideas of public policy which he advocates." Even his sister, Elizabeth, remarked that he could "not let even a great man set his small dogs on him without kicking the dog & giving his master some share of his resentment."

Lincoln was dismayed by the whole affair, realizing that Frank, whom he liked a great deal, had seriously compromised his future. He wrote a letter to Monty, offering advice as if the tempestuous Frank "were my brother instead of yours." He warned that by "a misunderstanding," Frank was "in danger of being permanently separated from those with whom only he can ever have a real sympathy-the sincere opponents of slavery." By allowing himself to be provoked into personal attacks, he could end up exiled from "the house of his own building. He is young yet. He has abundant talent-quite enough to occupy all his time, without devoting any to temper." If Frank decided to resume his seat in the House when the new Congress a.s.sembled, he should bear this in mind. Otherwise, he would "serve both the country and himself more profitably" by returning to the military, where his recent promotion to corps commander proved that he was "rising in military skill and usefulness."

Lincoln's counsel to Frank was echoed in a gentle letter of reprimand to another young man whose intemperate words had made him vulnerable. Captain James Cutts, Jr., had been court-martialed for using "unbecoming language" in addressing a superior officer and for publicly derogating his superior's accomplishments to the point where a duel almost took place. Young Cutts was the brother of Adele Cutts, Stephen Douglas's second wife. In remitting the sentence, Lincoln wrote, "You have too much of life yet before you, and have shown too much of promise as an officer, for your future to be lightly surrendered." He tried to impart some of the measured outlook that had served him so well: "No man resolved to make the most of himself, can spare time for personal contention. Still less can he afford to take all the consequences, including the vitiating of his temper, and the loss of self-control. Yield larger things to which you can show no more than equal right; and yield lesser ones, though clearly your own. Better give your path to a dog, than be bitten by him in contesting for the right. Even killing the dog would not cure the bite."

Frank Blair's battle against Chase in Missouri was carried forward by Monty Blair in Maryland, where a similar struggle over Reconstruction had arisen. Chase again intervened, lending his support to the radical Henry Winter Davis as a candidate for Congress. Davis was a proponent of immediate uncompensated emanc.i.p.ation and rigorous standards for defining eligibility to vote. Monty voiced his opposition at Rockville in early October, flaying the radicals' program, and arguing that the "ultra-abolitionists" were as despotic as the old slaveocrats. If they succeeded in their draconian measures toward the rebel states, he warned, it would be "fatal to republican inst.i.tutions." He excoriated Sumner's proposition that the rebel states had forfeited their rights to equal partic.i.p.ation in the Union by committing suicide by secession. Although Blair's speech met with approval from his partisan audience, it aroused deep hostility in Congress. Fifty congressmen signed a pet.i.tion calling on Lincoln to remove Blair from his cabinet.

Once again, Lincoln was forced to balance the interests of contentious factions. Many a.s.sumed incorrectly that Blair was speaking for the White House. In fact, Lincoln refused to support Blair's candidate against Winter Davis, insisting that a Union convention had nominated Davis and it "would be mean to do anything against him." In the end, the president's most vital objective for Maryland was realized in the election-a dramatic Republican victory over the Copperheads, ensuring that the former slave state stood firmly behind the Union's cause. Noah Brooks attended a ma.s.s rally in Baltimore to celebrate the triumph of Winter Davis and the entire Republican ticket. As he surveyed the festive banners proclaiming: "Slavery is dead," he marveled at the thought that not long before, the state "was almost coaxed into open rebellion against the government, in simulated defense of slavery." The enthusiastic crowd signaled that "a great and momentous revolution" had occurred in the hearts and minds of the people. "Do we dream," marveled Brooks, "or do we actually hear with our own ears loyal Marylanders making speeches in favor of immediate emanc.i.p.ation and a loyal crowd of Baltimoreans applauding to the echo the most radical utterances."

Chase was a featured speaker at the celebration, and, according to Brooks, "his simple words of sympathy and cheer for the struggling sons of freedom in Maryland were received with wildest enthusiasm." The complete triumph of the emanc.i.p.ationists was read as a sharp rebuke to Monty Blair and his "fossil theories." Chase was elated, telling Greeley that he attached "a great deal of importance" to the occasion, for it suggested "the time is ripe" for a "great unconditional Union Party, with Emanc.i.p.ation as a Cardinal principle"-a party with Salmon Chase, presumably, at its head.

Worried that Lincoln's adversaries were successfully eclipsing him by appealing to the "radical element," Leonard Swett recommended that the president call for a const.i.tutional amendment abolishing slavery. "I told him if he took that stand, it was an outside position and no one could maintain himself upon any measure more radical," Swett recalled, "and if he failed to take the position, his rivals would." Lincoln, too, could see the "time coming" for a const.i.tutional amendment, and then whoever "stands in its way, will be run over by it"; but the country was not yet ready. The "discordant elements" of the great coalition still had to be held together to ensure victory in the war. Moreover, he objected, "I have never done an official act with a view to promote my own personal aggrandizement, and I don't like to begin now."

Herein, Swett concluded, lay the secret to Lincoln's gifted leadership. "It was by ignoring men, and ignoring all small causes, but by closely calculating the tendencies of events and the great forces which were producing logical results." John Forney of the Washington Daily Chronicle observed the same intuitive judgment and timing, arguing that Lincoln was "the most truly progressive man of the age, because he always moves in conjunction with propitious circ.u.mstances, not waiting to be dragged by the force of events or wasting strength in premature struggles with them."

CHAPTER 22

"STILL IN WILD WATER"

AS THE FALL 1863 ELECTIONS in the crucial states of Ohio and Pennsylvania approached, Lincoln was visibly unsettled. Recalling the disastrous midterm elections of the previous autumn, he confided to Welles in October that his anxiety was greater than during his presidential race in 1860.

If the antiwar Democrats had gained ground since the previous year, it would signal that Northern support for the war was crumbling. Such results would dispirit the army and invigorate rebel morale. While recent battlefield victories augured well for Republican chances, the divisive issues of civil liberties, slavery, and Reconstruction threatened to erode support in many places. Civil liberties was also a divisive issue in the Confederacy, which had suspended habeas corpus, imposed martial law, and inst.i.tuted conscription. The former Confederate secretary of state Robert Toombs accused "that scoundrel Jeff Davis" of pursuing "an illegal and unconst.i.tutional course" that "outraged justice" and brought a "tide of despotism" upon the South. People in both North and South were becoming increasingly restive.