Books: The Life of Abraham Lincoln

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The effect of the fall of Sumter was amazing. In the South it was
hailed with ecstatic delight, especially in Charleston. There was a
popular demonstration at Montgomery, Ala., the provisional seat of the
Confederate government. L. P. Walker, Confederate Secretary of War,
made a speech and, among other things, said that "while no man could
tell where the war would end, he would prophesy that the flag which now
flaunts the breeze here, would float over the dome of the old Capitol
at Washington before the end of May," and that "it might eventually
float over Fanueil Hall itself." The Confederate government raised a
loan of eight millions of dollars and Jefferson Davis issued letters of
marque to all persons who might desire to aid the South and at the same
time enrich themselves by depredations upon the commerce of the United
States.

The effect upon the North was different. There was a perfect storm of
indignation against the people who had presumed to fire on the flag.
Butler's prediction proved to be nearly correct. This did unite the
North in defense of the flag. Butler was a conspicuous example of this
effect. Though a Breckinridge democrat, he promptly offered his
services for the defense of the country, and throughout the war he had
the distinction of being hated by the South with a more cordial hatred
than any other Union general.

It was recollected throughout the North that Lincoln had been
conciliatory to a fault towards the South. Conciliation had failed
because that was not what the South wanted. They wanted war and by them
was war made. This put an end forever to all talk of concession and
compromise. Douglas was one of the many whose voice called in trumpet
tones to the defense of the flag.

At the date of the fall of Sumter, Lincoln had been in office less than
six weeks. In addition to routine work, to attending to extraordinary
calls in great numbers, he had accomplished certain very important
things: He had the loyal devotion of a cabinet noted for its ability
and diversity. He had the enthusiastic confidence of the doubtful minds
of the North. He had made it impossible for the European monarchies to
recognize the South as a nation. So far as our country was concerned,
he might ask for anything, and he would get what he asked. These were
no mean achievements. The far-seeing statesman had played for this and
had won.

Beauregard got the fort, but Lincoln got the game. In his own words,
"he took _that_ trick."

CHAPTER XXV.

THE OUTBURST OF PATRIOTISM.

The fall of Sumter caused an outburst of patriotism through the entire
North such as is not witnessed many times in a century. On Sunday
morning, April 14th, it was known that terms of surrender had been
arranged. On that day and on many succeeding Sundays the voices from a
thousand pulpits sounded with the certainty of the bugle, the call to
the defense of the flag. Editors echoed the call. Such newspapers as
were suspected of secession tendencies were compelled to hoist the
American flag. For the time at least, enthusiasm and patriotism ran
very high. Those who were decidedly in sympathy with the South remained
quiet, and those who were of a doubtful mind were swept along with the
tide of popular feeling. The flag had been fired on. That one fact
unified the North.

On that same evening Senator Douglas arranged for a private interview
with President Lincoln. For two hours these men, rivals and antagonists
of many years, were in confidential conversation. What passed between
them no man knows, but the result of the conference was quickly made
public. Douglas came out of the room as determined a "war democrat" as
could be found between the oceans. He himself prepared a telegram which
was everywhere published, declaring that he would sustain the President
in defending the constitution.

Lincoln had prepared his call for 75,000 volunteer troops. Douglas
thought the number should have been 200,000. So it should, and so
doubtless it would, had it not been for certain iniquities of
Buchanan's mal-administration. There were no arms, accouterments,
clothing. Floyd had well-nigh stripped the northern arsenals. Lincoln
could not begin warlike preparations on any great scale because that
was certain to precipitate the war which he so earnestly strove to
avoid.

Further, the 75,000 was about five times the number of soldiers then in
the army of the United States. Though the number of volunteers was
small, their proportion to the regular army was large.

That night Lincoln's call and Douglas's endorsement were sent over the
wires. Next morning the two documents were published in every daily
paper north of Mason and Dixon's line.

The call for volunteer soldiers was in the South greeted with a howl of
derision. They knew how the arsenals had been stripped. They had also
for years been quietly buying up arms not only from the North, but also
from various European nations. They had for many years been preparing
for just this event, and now that it came they were fully equipped.
During the first months of the war the administration could not wisely
make public how very poorly the soldiers were armed, for this would
only discourage the defenders of the Union and cheer the enemy.

This call for troops met with prompt response. The various governors of
the northern states offered many times their quota. The first in the
field was Massachusetts. This was due to the foresight of ex-Governor
Banks. He had for years kept the state militia up to a high degree of
efficiency. When rallied upon this he explained that it was to defend
the country against a rebellion of the slaveholders which was sure to
come.

The call for volunteers was published on the morning of April 15th. By
ten o'clock the 6th Massachusetts began to rendezvous. In less than
thirty-six hours the regiment was ready and off for Washington. They
were everywhere cheered with much enthusiasm. In New York they were
guests of the Astor House, whose patriotic proprietor would receive no
compensation from the defenders of the flag.

The reception in Baltimore was of a very different sort. Some ruffians
of that city had planned to assassinate Lincoln in February, and now
they in large numbers prepared to attack the soldiers who were
hastening to the defense of the national capital. Here was the first
bloodshed of the war. The casualties were four killed and thirty-six
wounded. When the regiment reached Washington City, the march from the
railway station was very solemn. Behind the marching soldiers followed
the stretchers bearing the wounded. The dead had been left behind.
Governor Andrew's despatch to Mayor Brown,--"Send them home
tenderly,"--elicited the sympathy of millions of hearts.

The mayor of Baltimore and the governor of Maryland sent a deputation
to Lincoln to ask that no more troops be brought through that city. The
President made no promise, but he said he was anxious to avoid all
friction and he would do the best he could. He added playfully that if
he granted that, they would be back next day to ask that no troops be
sent around Baltimore.

That was exactly what occurred. The committee were back the next day
protesting against permitting any troops to cross the state of
Maryland. Lincoln replied that, as they couldn't march around the
state, nor tunnel under it, nor fly over it, he guessed they would have
to march across it.

It was arranged that for the time being the troops should be brought to
Annapolis and transported thence to Washington by water. This was one
of the many remarkable instances of forbearance on the part of the
government. There was a great clamor on the part of the North for
vengeance upon Baltimore for its crime, and a demand for sterner
measures in future. But the President was determined to show all the
conciliation it was possible to show, both in this case and in a
hundred others.

These actions bore good fruit. It secured to him the confidence of the
people to a degree that could not have been foreseen. On the 22d of
July, 1861, Mr. Crittenden, of Kentucky, offered the following
resolution:

"_Resolved by the House of Representatives of the United States_,
That the present deplorable civil war has been forced upon the country
by the disunionists of the Southern States, now in arms against the
Constitutional Government and in arms around the capital:

"That in this national emergency, congress, banishing all feelings of
mere passion or resentment, will recollect only its duty to the whole
country;

"That this war is not waged on their part in any spirit of oppression,
or for any purpose of conquest or subjugation, or purpose of
overthrowing or interfering with the rights or established institutions
of those states, but to defend and maintain the _supremacy_ of the
Constitution, and to preserve the Union with all the dignity, equality,
and rights of the several states unimpaired; and that, as soon as these
objects are accomplished, the war ought to cease."

This resolution was passed with only two dissenting votes. Lincoln's
patience, forbearance, conciliation had accomplished this marvel.

Very early in the war the question of slavery confronted the generals.
In the month of May, only about two months after the inauguration,
Generals Butler and McClellan confronted the subject, and their methods
of dealing with it were as widely different as well could be. When
Butler was in charge of Fortress Monroe three negroes fled to that
place for refuge. They said that Colonel Mallory had set them to work
upon the rebel fortifications. A flag of truce was sent in from the
rebel lines demanding the return of the negroes. Butler replied: "I
shall retain the negroes as _contraband of war_. You were using
them upon your batteries; it is merely a question whether they shall be
used for or against us." From that time the word _contraband_ was
used in common speech to indicate an escaped slave.

It was on the 26th day of the same month that McClellan issued to the
slaveholders a proclamation in which are found these words: "Not only
will we abstain from all interference with your slaves, but we will, on
the contrary, with an iron hand crush any attempt at insurrection on
their part." It is plain that McClellan's "we" did not include his
brother-general at Fortress Monroe. Further comment on his attitude is
reserved to a later chapter.

The early victims of the war caused deep and profound sympathy. The
country was not yet used to carnage. The expectancy of a people not
experienced in war was at high tension, and these deaths, which would
at any time have produced a profound impression, were emphatically
impressive at that time.

One of the very first martyrs of the war was Elmer E. Ellsworth. He was
young, handsome, impetuous. At Chicago he had organized among the
firemen a company of Zouaves with their spectacular dress and drill.
These Zouaves had been giving exhibition drills in many northern cities
and aroused no little interest. One result was the formation of similar
companies at various places. The fascinating Zouave drill became quite
popular.

In 1861 Ellsworth was employed in the office of Lincoln and Herndon in
Springfield. When the President-elect journeyed to Washington
Ellsworth, to whom Lincoln was deeply attached, made one of the party.
At the outbreak of hostilities he was commissioned as colonel to raise
a regiment in New York. On the south bank of the Potomac, directly
opposite Washington, was Alexandria. The keeper of the Mansion House,
in that place, had run up a secession flag on the mast at the top of
the hotel. This flag floated day after day in full sight of Lincoln and
Ellsworth and the others.

Ellsworth led an advance upon Alexandria on the evening of May 23d. The
rebels escaped. The next morning as usual, the secession flag floated
tauntingly from the Mansion House. Ellsworth's blood was up and he
resolved to take down that flag and hoist the stars and stripes with
his own hand. Taking with him two soldiers he accomplished his purpose.

Returning by a spiral stairway, he carried the rebel flag in his hand.
The proprietor of the hotel came out from a place of concealment,
placed his double-barreled shot-gun nearly against Ellsworth's body and
fired. The assassin was instantly shot down by private Brownell, but
Ellsworth was dead. The rebel flag was dyed in the blood of his heart.
Underneath his uniform was found a gold medal with the inscription,
_non solum nobus, sed pro patria_,--"not for ourselves only but for our
country."

The body was removed to Washington City, where it lay in state in the
East room until burial. The President, amid all the cares of that busy
period, found time to sit many hours beside the body of his friend, and
at the burial he appeared as chief mourner.

This murder fired the northern imagination to a degree. The picture of
Ellsworth's handsome face was everywhere familiar. It is an easy guess
that hundreds, not to say thousands, of babies were named for him
within the next few months, and to this day the name Elmer, starting
from him, has not ceased to be a favorite.

A little more than two weeks later, on the 10th of June, the first real
battle of the war was fought. This was at Big Bethel, Va., near
Fortress Monroe. The loss was not great as compared with later battles,
being only eighteen killed and fifty-three wounded. But among the
killed was Major Theodore Winthrop, a young man barely thirty-three
years of age. He was the author of several successful books, and gave
promise of a brilliant literary career. He was a true patriot and a
gallant soldier. His death was the source of sorrow and anger to many
thousands of readers of "Cecil Dreeme."

It was two months later that General Lyon fell at Wilson's Creek, Mo.
He had been conspicuous for his services to the country before this
time. The battle was bitterly contested, and Lyon showed himself a
veritable hero in personal courage and gallantry. After three wounds he
was still fighting on, leading personally a bayonet charge when he was
shot for the fourth time, fell from his horse, and died immediately. It
was the gallant death of a brave soldier, that touches the heart and
fires the imagination.

These deaths, and such as these, occurring at the beginning of the war,
taught the country the painful truth that the cost of war is deeper
than can possibly be reckoned. The dollars of money expended, and the
lists of the numbers killed, wounded, and missing, do not fully express
the profound sorrow, the irreparable loss.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE WAR HERE TO STAY.

Lincoln was a man of great sagacity. Few statesmen have had keener
insight, or more true and sane foresight. While cordially recognizing
this, it is not necessary to claim for him infallibility. He had his
disappointments.

The morning after the evacuation of Fort Sumter he issued his call for
75,000 volunteers to serve for three months. We have seen that one
reason why the number was so small was that this was the largest number
that could possibly be clothed, armed, and officered at short notice.
Subsequent experience showed that the brief enlistment of three months
was an utterly inadequate period for so serious an insurrection. Did
Lincoln really think the rebellion could be put down in three months?
Why did he not save infinite trouble by calling for five-year
enlistments at the beginning?

For one thing, he had at that time no legal power to call for a longer
period of enlistment. Then he desired to continue the conciliatory
policy as long as possible, so as to avoid alienating the undecided in
both the North and the South. Had the first call been for 500,000 for
three years, it would have looked as if he intended and desired a long
and bloody war, and this would have antagonized large numbers of
persons. But it is probable that neither he nor the community at large
suspected the seriousness of the war. The wars in which the men then
living had had experience were very slight. In comparison with what
followed, they were mere skirmishes. How should they foresee that they
were standing on the brink of one of the longest, the costliest, the
bloodiest, and the most eventful wars of all history?

Virginia was dragooned into secession. She declined to participate in
the Charleston Convention. Though a slave state, the public feeling was
by a decided majority in favor of remaining in the Union. But after the
fall of Sumter she was manipulated by skilful politicians, appealed to
and cajoled on the side of prejudice and sectional feeling, and on
April 17th passed the ordinance of secession. It was a blunder and a
more costly blunder she could not have made. For four years her soil
was the theater of a bitterly contested war, and her beautiful valleys
were drenched with human blood.

Back and forth, over and over again, fought the two armies, literally
sweeping the face of the country with the besom of destruction. The
oldest of her soldiers of legal age were fifty-five years of age when
the war closed. The youngest were twelve years of age when the war
opened. Older men and younger boys were in the war, ay, and were killed
on the field of battle. As the scourge of war passed over that state
from south to north, from north to south, for four years, many an
ancient and proud family was simply exterminated, root and branch. Of
some of the noblest and best families, there is to-day not a trace and
scarcely a memory.

All this could not have been foreseen by these Virginians, nor by the
people of the North, nor by the clear-eyed President himself. Even the
most cautious and conservative thought the war would be of brief
duration. They were soon to receive a rude shock and learn that "war
is hell," and that _this_ war was here to stay. This revelation
came with the first great battle of the war, which was fought July 21,
1861, at Bull Run, a location not more than twenty-five or thirty miles
from Washington.

Certain disabilities of our soldiers should be borne in mind. Most of
them were fresh from farm, factory, or store, and had no military
training even in the militia. A large number were just reaching the
expiration of their term of enlistment and were homesick and eager to
get out of the service. The generals were not accustomed to handling
large bodies of men. To add to the difficulty, the officers and men
were entirely unacquainted with one another. Nevertheless most of them
were ambitious to see a little of real war before they went back to the
industries of peace. They saw far more than they desired.

It was supposed by the administration and its friends that one crushing
blow would destroy the insurrection, and that this blow was to be dealt
in this coming battle. The troops went to the front as to a picnic. The
people who thronged Washington, politicians, merchants, students,
professional men, and ladies as well, had the same eagerness to see a
battle that in later days they have to witness a regatta or a game of
football. The civilians, men and women, followed the army in large
numbers. They saw all they looked for and more.

The battle was carefully planned, and except for delay in getting
started, it was fought out very much as planned. It is not the scope of
this book to enter into the details of this or any battle. But thus
much may be said in a general way. The Confederates were all the day
receiving a steady stream of fresh reinforcements. The Federals, on the
other hand, had been on their feet since two o'clock in the morning. By
three o'clock in the afternoon, after eleven hours of activity and five
hours of fighting in the heat of a July day in Virginia, these men were
tired, thirsty, hungry,--worn out. Then came the disastrous panic and
the demoralization. A large portion of the army started in a race for
Washington, the civilians in the lead.

The disaster was terrible, but there is nothing to gain by magnifying
it. Some of the oldest and best armies in the world have been broken
into confusion quite as badly as this army of raw recruits. They did
not so far lose heart that they were not able to make a gallant stand
at Centerville and successfully check the pursuit of the enemy. It was
said that Washington was at the mercy of the Confederates, but it is
more likely that they had so felt the valor of the foe that they were
unfit to pursue the retreating army. It was a hard battle on both
sides. No one ever accused the Confederates of cowardice, and they
surely wanted to capture Washington City. That they did not do so is
ample proof that the battle was not a picnic to them. It had been
boasted that one southern man could whip five northern men. This catchy
phrase fell into disuse.

It was natural and politic for the Confederates to magnify their
victory. This was done without stint by Jeff Davis who was present as a
spectator. He telegraphed the following:

"Night has closed upon a hard-fought field. Our forces were victorious.
The enemy was routed and fled precipitately, abandoning a large amount
of arms, ammunition, knapsacks, and baggage. The ground was strewed for
miles with those killed, and the farmhouses and the ground around were
filled with wounded. Our force was fifteen thousand; that of the enemy
estimated at thirty-five thousand."

That account is sufficiently accurate except as to figures. Jeff Davis
never could be trusted in such circumstances to give figures with any
approach to accuracy. Lossing estimates that the Federal forces were
13,000, and the Confederates about 27,000. This is certainly nearer the
truth than the boast of Jeff Davis. But a fact not less important than
the numbers was that the Confederate reinforcements were fresh, while
the Federal forces were nearly exhausted from marching half the night
before the fighting began.

Although the victorious forces were effectively checked at Centerville,
those who fled in absolute rout and uncontrollable panic were enough to
give the occasion a lasting place in history. The citizens who had gone
to see the battle had not enjoyed their trip. The soldiers who had
thought that this war was a sort of picnic had learned that the foe was
formidable. The administration that had expected to crush the
insurrection by one decisive blow became vaguely conscious of the fact
that the war was here to stay months and years.

It is a curious trait of human nature that people are not willing to
accept a defeat simply. The mind insists on explaining the particular
causes of that specific defeat. Amusing instances of this are seen in
all games: foot-ball, regattas, oratorical contests. Also in elections;
the defeated have a dozen reasons to explain why the favorite candidate
was not elected as he should have been. This trait came out somewhat
clamorously after the battle of Bull Run. A large number of plausible
explanations were urged on Mr. Lincoln, who finally brought the subject
to a conclusion by the remark: "I see. We whipped the enemy and then
ran away from him!"

The effect of the battle of Bull Run on the South was greatly to
encourage them and add to their enthusiasm. The effect on the North was
to deepen their determination to save the flag, to open their eyes to
the fact that the southern power was strong, and with renewed zeal and
determination they girded themselves for the conflict. But the great
burden fell on Lincoln. He was disappointed that the insurrection was
not and could not be crushed by one decisive blow. There was need of
more time, more men, more money, more blood. These thoughts and the
relative duties were to him, with his peculiar temperament, a severer
trial than they could have been to perhaps any other man living. He
would not shrink from doing his full duty, though it was so hard.

It made an old man of him. The night before he decided to send bread to
Sumter he slept not a wink. That was one of very many nights when he
did not sleep, and there were many mornings when he tasted no food. But
weak, fasting, worn, aging as he was, he was always at his post of
duty. The most casual observer could see the inroads which these mental
cares made upon his giant body. It was about a year later than this
that an old neighbor and friend, Noah Brooks of Chicago, went to
Washington to live, and he has vividly described the change in the
appearance of the President.

In _Harper's Monthly_ for July, 1865, he writes: "Though the
intellectual man had greatly grown meantime, few persons would
recognize the hearty, blithesome, genial, and wiry Abraham Lincoln of
earlier days in the sixteenth President of the United States, with his
stooping figure, dull eyes, careworn face, and languid frame. The old
clear laugh never came back; the even temper was sometimes disturbed;
and his natural charity for all was often turned into unwonted
suspicion of the motives of men, whose selfishness caused him so much
wear of mind."

Again, the same writer said in _Scribner's Monthly_ for February, 1878:
"There was [in 1862] over his face an expression of sadness, and a
faraway look in the eyes, which were utterly unlike the Lincoln of
other days.... I confess that I was so pained that I could almost have
shed tears.... By and by, when I knew him better, his face was often
full of mirth and enjoyment; and even when he was pensive or gloomy,
his features were lighted up very much as a clouded alabaster vase
might be softly illuminated by a light within."

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