The Life of Abraham Lincoln Part 7

The first of these was delivered at the state Fair at Springfield.

Douglas had spoken October 3d, 1854. Lincoln was present, and it was mentioned by Douglas, and was by all understood, that he would reply the following day, October 4th. Douglas was, up to that time, not only the shrewdest politician in the country, but he was acknowledged to be the ablest debater. He was particularly well prepared upon this subject, for to it he had given almost his entire time for nearly a year, and had discussed it in congress and out, and knew thoroughly the current objections. The occasion was unusual, and this was to be, and doubtless it was, his greatest effort.

The following day came Lincoln's reply. As a matter of fairness, he said at the outset that he did not want to present anything but the truth. If he said anything that was not true, he would be glad to have Douglas correct him at once. Douglas, with customary shrewdness, took advantage of this offer by making frequent interruptions, so as to break the effect of the logic and destroy the flow of thought. Finally Lincoln's patience was exhausted, and he paused in his argument to say: "Gentlemen, I cannot afford to spend my time in quibbles. I take the responsibility of a.s.serting the truth myself, relieving Judge Douglas from the necessity of his impertinent corrections." This silenced his opponent, and he spoke without further interruption to the end, his speech being three hours and ten minutes long.

The effect of the speech was wonderful. The scene, as described next day in the Springfield _Journal_, is worth quoting:

"Lincoln quivered with feeling and emotion. The whole house was as still as death. He attacked the bill with unusual warmth and energy, and all felt that a man of strength was its enemy, and that he meant to blast it if he could by strong and manly efforts. He was most successful; and the house approved the glorious triumph of truth by loud and long-continued huzzas.... Mr. Lincoln exhibited Douglas in all the att.i.tudes he could be placed in a friendly debate. He exhibited the bill in all its aspects to show its humb.u.g.g.e.ry and falsehoods, and when thus torn to rags, cut into slips, held up to the gaze of the vast crowd, a kind of scorn was visible upon the face of the crowd, and upon the lips of the most eloquent speaker.... At the conclusion of the speech, every man felt that it was unanswerable--that no human power could overthrow it or trample it under foot. The long and repeated applause evinced the feelings of the crowd, and gave token, too, of the universal a.s.sent to Lincoln's whole argument; and every mind present did homage to the man who took captive the heart and broke like a sun over the understanding."

The speech itself, and the manner of its reception, could not other than rouse Douglas to a tempest of wrath. It was a far more severe punishment than to be hooted from the stage, as he had been in Chicago.

He was handled as he had never been handled in his life. He took the platform, angrily claimed that he had been abused, and started to reply. But he did not get far. He had no case. He became confused, lost his self-control, hesitated, finally said that he would reply in the evening, and left the stage. That was the end of the incident so far as Douglas was concerned. When the evening came he had disappeared, and there was no reply.

Twelve days later, on October 16, Lincoln had promised to speak in Peoria. To that place Douglas followed, or preceded him. Douglas made his speech in the afternoon, and Lincoln followed in the evening. It was the same line of argument as in the other speech. Lincoln later consented to write it out for publication. We thus have the Springfield and Peoria speech, _minus_ the glow of extemporaneous address, the inspiration of the orator. These are important factors which not even the man himself could reproduce. But we have his own report, which is therefore authentic. The most salient point in his speech is his reply to Douglas's plausible representation that the people of any locality were competent to govern themselves. "I admit," said Lincoln, "that the emigrant to Kansas and Nebraska is competent to govern himself, but I deny his right to govern any other person without that other person's consent." This is the kernel of the entire question of human slavery.

The result of this speech at Peoria was less dramatic than that at Springfield, but it was no less instructive. Douglas secured from Lincoln an agreement that neither of them should again speak during that campaign. It was quite evident that he had learned to fear his antagonist and did not wish again to risk meeting him on the rostrum.

Lincoln kept the agreement. Douglas did not. Before he got home in Chicago, he stopped off to make another speech.

These speeches were made in 1854. It is now worth while to skip over two years to record another epoch-making speech, one which in spirit and temper belongs here. For it shows to what intensity Lincoln was aroused on this vast and ever-encroaching subject of slavery. This was at the convention which was held in Bloomington for the purpose of organizing the Republican party. The date of the convention was May 29, 1856. The center of interest was Lincoln's speech. The reporters were there in sufficient force, and we would surely have had a verbatim report--except for one thing. The reporters did not report. Let Joseph Medill, of the Chicago _Tribune_, tell why:

"It was my journalistic duty, though a delegate to the convention, to make a 'long-hand' report of the speeches delivered for the Chicago _Tribune_. I did make a few paragraphs of what Lincoln said in the first eight or ten minutes, but I became so absorbed in his magnetic oratory, that I forgot myself and ceased to take notes, and joined with the convention in cheering and stamping and clapping to the end of his speech.

I well remember that after Lincoln had sat down and calm had succeeded the tempest, I waked out of a sort of hypnotic trance, and then thought of my report for the _Tribune_. There was nothing written but an abbreviated introduction.

It was some sort of satisfaction to find that I had not been 'scooped,'

as all the newspaper men present had been equally carried away by the excitement caused by the wonderful oration, and had made no report or sketch of the speech."

Mr. Herndon, who was Lincoln's law partner, and who knew him so intimately that he might be trusted to keep his coolness during the enthusiasm of the hour, and who had the mechanical habit of taking notes for him, because he was his partner, said: "I attempted for about fifteen minutes, as was usual with me then, to take notes, but at the end of that time I threw pen and paper away and lived only in the inspiration of the hour."

There is no doubt that the audience was generally, if not unanimously, affected in the same way. The hearers went home and told about this wonderful speech. Journalists wrote flaming editorials about it. The fame of it went everywhere, but there was no report of it. It therefore came to be known as "Lincoln's lost speech."

Precisely forty years afterwards one H. C. Whitney published in one of the magazines an account of it. He says that he made notes of the speech, went home and wrote them out. Why he withheld this report from the public for so many years, especially in view of the general demand for it, does not precisely appear. The report, however, is interesting.

But after the lapse of nearly half a century, it is a matter of minor importance whether Mr. Whitney's report be accurate or not. To us the value of the three speeches mentioned in this chapter is found largely in the impression they produced upon the hearers. The three taken together show that Lincoln had waked to a new life. The lion in him was thoroughly roused, he was clothed with a tremendous power, which up to this point had not been suspected by antagonists nor dreamed of by admiring friends. This new and mighty power he held and wielded until his life's end. Thenceforth he was an important factor in national history.

CHAPTER XIII.

TWO THINGS THAT LINCOLN MISSED.

Lincoln's intimate friends have noted that he seemed to be under the impression that he was a man of destiny. This phrase was a favorite with Napoleon, who often used it of himself. But the two men were so widely different in character and career, that it is with reluctance that one joins their names even for the moment that this phrase is used. Napoleon was eager to sacrifice the whole of Europe to satisfy the claims of his personal ambition; Lincoln was always ready to stand aside and sacrifice himself for the country. The one was selfishness incarnate; the other was a n.o.ble example of a man who never hesitated to subordinate his own welfare to the general good, and whose career came to its climax in his martyrdom. Whether the presidency was or was not, Lincoln's destiny, it was certainly his destination. Had anything occurred to thrust him one side in this career, it would have prevented his complete development, and would have been an irreparable calamity to his country and to the world.

Twice in his life he earnestly desired certain offices and failed to get them. Had he succeeded in either case, it is not at all probable that he would ever have become President. One therefore rejoices in the knowledge that he missed them.

After his term in congress he was, in a measure, out of employment.

Political life is like to destroy one's taste for the legitimate practise of the law, as well as to scatter one's clients. Lincoln was not a candidate for reelection. Upon the election of General Taylor it was generally understood that the democrats would be turned out of office and their places supplied by whigs. The office of Land Commissioner was expected to go to Illinois. At the solicitation of friends he applied for it, but so fearful was he that he might stand in the way of others, or impede the welfare of the state, that he did not urge his application until too late. The President offered him the governorship of the territory of Oregon, which he declined. Had he been successful in his application, it would have kept him permanently out of the study and practise of the law. It would have kept his residence in Washington so that it would not have been possible for him to hold himself in touch with his neighbors. So far as concerned his ill.u.s.trious career, it would have side-tracked him. He himself recognized this later, and was glad that he had failed in this, his first and only application for a government appointment.

About six years later he again missed an office to which he aspired.

This was in 1854, the year of the speeches at Springfield and Peoria described in the last chapter. Shields, the man of the duel with broad- swords, was United States senator. His term of office was about to expire and the legislature would elect his successor. The state of Illinois had been democratic,--both the senators, Shields and Douglas, were democrats,--but owing to the new phases of the slavery question, the anti-slavery men were able to carry the legislature, though by a narrow margin.

Lincoln had been very useful to the party during the campaign and had been elected to the legislature from his own district. He wanted to be senator. He was unquestionably the choice of nearly all the whigs. Had an election taken place then, he would undoubtedly have been elected.

But a curious obstacle intervened. There was a provision in the const.i.tution of Illinois which disqualified members of the legislature from holding the office of United States senator. Lincoln was therefore not eligible. He could only become so by resigning his seat. There appeared to be no risk in this, for he had a safe majority of 605. It seemed as though he could name his successor. But there are many uncertainties in politics.

The campaign had been one of unusual excitement and it was followed by that apathy which is the common sequel to all excessive activity. The democrats kept quiet. They put up no candidate. They fostered the impression that they would take no part in the special election. Only one democrat was casually named as a possible victim to be sacrificed to the triumph of the whigs. He was not a popular nor an able man, and was not to be feared as a candidate for this office.

But the unusual quietness of the democrats was the most dangerous sign.

They had organized a "still hunt." This was an adroit move, but it was perfectly fair. It is not difficult to guess whose shrewdness planned this, seeing that the question was vital to the career of Douglas. The democratic party preserved their organization. The trusted lieutenants held the rank and file in readiness for action. When the polls were opened on election day, the democrats were there, and the whigs were not. At every election precinct appeared democratic workers to electioneer for the man of their choice. Carriages were provided for the aged, the infirm, and the indifferent who were driven to the polls so that their votes were saved to the party.

The whigs were completely taken by surprise. It was too late to talk up their candidate. They had no provision and no time to get the absent and indifferent to the polls. The result was disastrous to them.

Lincoln's "safe" majority was wiped out and a Douglas democrat was chosen to succeed him.

It may be surmised that this did not tend to fill the whigs with enthusiasm, nor to unite the party. From all over the state there arose grumblings that the Sangamon contingent of the party had been so ign.o.bly outwitted. Lincoln had to bear the brunt of this discontent.

This was not unnatural nor unreasonable, for he was the party manager for that district. When the legislature went into joint session Lincoln had manifestly lost some of his prestige. It may be said by way of palliation that the "still hunt" was then new in politics. And it was the only time that Lincoln was caught napping.

Even with the loss to the whigs of this seat, the Douglas democrats were in a minority. Lincoln had a plurality but not a majority. The balance of power was held by five anti-Nebraska democrats, who would not under any circ.u.mstances vote for Lincoln or any other whig. Their candidate was Lyman Trumbull. After a long and weary deadlock, the democrats dropped their candidate Shields and took up the governor of the state. The governor has presumably a strong influence with the legislature, and this move of the partisans was a real menace to the anti-slavery men. Lincoln recognized the danger, at once withdrew his candidacy, and persuaded all the anti-slavery men to unite on Trumbull.

This was no ordinary conciliation, for upon every subject except the Nebraska question alone, Trumbull was an uncompromising democrat. The whig votes gave him the necessary majority. The man who started in with five votes won the prize. Lincoln not only failed to get into the senate, but he was out of the legislature.

In commenting on this defeat of Lincoln for the United States senate, the present writer wishes first of all to disavow all superst.i.tions and all belief in signs. But there is one fact which is worthy of mention, and for which different persons will propose different explanations. It is a fact that in all the history of the United States no person has been elected direct from the senate to the presidency. This is the more interesting because the prominent senator wields a very powerful influence, an influence second only to that of the President himself.

When one considers the power of a leading senator, one would suppose that that was the natural stepping-stone to the presidency. But history does not support this supposition. It teaches the opposite.

Many prominent senators have greatly desired to be president, but no one has succeeded unless he first retired from the senate. Among the more widely known aspirants to the presidency who have been unsuccessful, are Jackson (his first candidacy), Clay, Webster, Douglas, Morton, Seward, Sherman, and Blaine. So many failures may be a mere coincidence. On the other hand there may be a reason for them.

They seem to teach that the senate is not the best start for the presidential race, but the worst.

The history of ethics teaches that the most determined hostility against the best is the good, not the bad. So it may be that in the politics of this country, the greatest obstacle to the highest position may be the next highest.

These facts, of course, do not prove that if Lincoln had been elected senator in 1854, or in 1858 when he was the opposing candidate to Douglas, he would therefore have failed of election to the presidency.

He may have been an exception. He may have been the only one to break this rule in over a hundred years. But the sequel proved that he was best where he was. He remained among his people. He moused about the state library, enduring criticism but mastering the history of slavery.

He kept a watchful eye on the progress of events. He was always alert to seize an opportunity and proclaim in trumpet tones the voice of conscience, the demands of eternal righteousness. But he waited. His hour had not yet come. He bided his time. It was not a listless waiting, it was intensely earnest and active. Far more than he could realize, he was in training for the stupendous responsibilities which should in due time fall upon him. It is fortunate for all that he did not learn to limit his powers to the arena of the senate, which, though great, is limited. He kept near to the people. When his hour struck, he was ready.

For this reason we call his two failures escapes. He did not get the government land office, he did not get the senatorship. He did get the presidency, and that in the crisis of the history of the nation. What is more, when he got that he was thoroughly furnished unto every good work.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE BIRTH OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY.

In the course of history there sometimes arises a man who has a marvelous power of attaching others to himself. He commands a measure of devotion and enthusiasm which it is impossible fully to understand.

Such a man was Henry Clay. Under the fascination of his qualities Lincoln lived. From childhood to maturity Clay had been his idol, and Clay's party, the whig, nearly synonymous with all that was desirable in American politics. It was therefore no easy matter for Lincoln to leave the whig party. Nothing could accomplish this but the overmastering power of a n.o.ble emotion.

From childhood Lincoln had hated slavery. The fact that Kentucky was a slave state had its influence in his father's removal to Indiana. His personal observations upon his journeys down the Mississippi River had given him a keener feeling on the subject. The persistent and ever- increasing outrages of the slave power had intensified his hatred. The time had come when he, and such as he, felt that other party questions were of minor importance, and that everything else should for the time be subordinated to the supreme question of slavery.

There were certain reasons why the whig party could not accomplish the desired end. Its history had identified it with a different cla.s.s of subjects. Though Clay himself and a majority of his party were opposed to the extension of slavery, there were still pro-slavery men in its ranks in sufficient numbers to prevent any real efficiency on the slavery question.

On the other hand, while the democratic party was overwhelmingly pro- slavery, there were anti-slavery democrats who, from their numbers, ability, and character, were not to be overlooked. The election to the senate of Lyman Trumbull as an anti-Douglas democrat had crystalized this wing of the party. The fiasco of Lincoln's defeat when the whigs were in a good plurality caused much discontent in that party. If the anti-slavery men were to be united for efficiency in opposing Douglas, it must be under another organization--a new party must be formed.