The institution of slavery was always and only hateful to the earnest and honest nature of Lincoln. He detested it with all the energy of his soul. He would, as he said, gladly have swept it from the face of the earth. Not even the extreme abolitionists, Garrison, Wendell Phillips, Whittier, abominated slavery with more intensity than Lincoln. But he did not show his hostility in the same way. He had a wider scope of vision than they. He had, and they had not, an appreciative historical knowledge of slavery in this country. He knew that it was tolerated by the Constitution and laws enacted within the provisions of the Constitution, though he believed that the later expansion of slavery was contrary to the spirit and intent of the men who framed the Constitution. And he believed that slaveholders had legal rights which should be respected by all orderly citizens. His sympathy with the slave did not cripple his consideration for the slave-owner who had inherited his property in that form, and under a constitution and laws which he did not originate and for which he was not responsible.
He would destroy slavery root and branch, but he would do it in a manner conformable to the Constitution, not in violation of it. He would exterminate it, but he would not so do it as to impoverish law- abiding citizens whose property was in slaves. He would eliminate slavery, but not in a way to destroy the country, for that would entail more mischief than benefit. To use a figure, he would throw Jonah overboard, but he would not upset the ship in the act.
Large numbers of people have a limited scope of knowledge. Such overlooked the real benefits of our civilization, and did not realize that wrecking the constitution would simply destroy the good that had thus far been achieved, and uproot the seeds of promise of usefulness for the centuries to come. They wanted slavery destroyed at once, violently, regardless of the disastrous consequences. On the other hand, Lincoln wanted it destroyed, but by a sure and rational process. He wished—and from this he never swerved—to do also two things: first, to compensate the owners of the slaves, and second to provide for the future of the slaves themselves. Of course, the extreme radicals could not realize that he was more intensely opposed to slavery than themselves.
Let us now glance at his record. We have already seen (in chapter V.) how he revolted from the first view of the horrors of the institution, and the youthful vow which he there recorded will not readily be forgotten. That was in 1831 when he was twenty-two years of age.
Six years later, or in 1837, when he was a youthful member of the Illinois legislature, he persuaded Stone to join him in a protest against slavery. There was positively nothing to be gained by this protest, either personally or in behalf of the slave. The only possible reason for it was that he believed that slavery was wrong and could not rest until he had openly expressed that belief. "A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong."
When he was in congress, in 1846, the famous Wilmot Proviso came up. This was to provide "that, as an express and fundamental condition to the acquisition of any territory from the republic of Mexico by the United States … neither slavery nor involuntary servitude shall ever exist in any part of the said territory." By reason of amendments, this subject came before the house very many times, and Lincoln said afterwards that he had voted for the proviso in one form or another forty-two times.
On the 16th day of January, 1849, he introduced into congress a bill for the emancipation of slavery in the District of Columbia. This was a wise and reasonable bill. It gave justice to all, and at the same time gathered all the fruits of emancipation in the best possible way. The bill did not pass, there was no hope at the time that it would pass. But it compelled a reasonable discussion of the subject and had a certain amount of educational influence.
It is interesting that, thirteen years later, April 10, 1862, he had the privilege of fixing his presidential signature to a bill similar to his own. Congress had moved up to his position. When he signed the bill, he said: "Little did I dream, in 1849, when I proposed to abolish slavery in this capital, and could scarcely get a hearing for the proposition, that it would be so soon accomplished."
After the expiration of his term in congress he left political life, as he supposed, forever. He went into the practise of the law in earnest, and was so engaged at the time of the repeal of the Missouri Compromise which called him back to the arena of politics.
In the early part of the war there were certain attempts at emancipation which Lincoln held in check for the reason that the time for them had not arrived. "There's a tide in the affairs of men." It is of prime importance that this tide be taken at the flood. So far as emancipation was concerned, this came in slower than the eagerness of Generals Fremont and Hunter. But it was coming, and in the meantime Lincoln was doing what he could to help matters on. The difficulty was that if the Union was destroyed it would be the death-blow to the cause of emancipation. At the same time not a few loyal men were slaveholders. To alienate these by premature action would be disastrous. The only wise plan of action was to wait patiently until a sufficient number of these could be depended on in the emergency of emancipation. This was what Lincoln was doing.
The first part of the year 1862 was very trying. The North had expected to march rapidly and triumphantly into Richmond. This had not been accomplished, but on the contrary disaster had followed disaster in battle, and after many months the two armies were encamped facing each other and almost in sight of Washington, while the soldiers from the North were rapidly sickening and dying in the Southern camps. Small wonder if there was an impatient clamor.
A serious result of this delay was the danger arising from European sources. The monarchies of Europe had no sympathy with American freedom. They became impatient with the reports of "no progress" in the war, and at this time some of them were watching for a pretext to recognize the Southern Confederacy. This came vividly to the knowledge of Carl Schurz, minister to Spain. By permission of the President he returned to this country—this was late in January, 1862—to lay the matter personally before him. With the help of Schurz, Lincoln proceeded to develop the sentiment for emancipation. By his request Schurz went to New York to address a meeting of the Emancipation Society on March 6th. It need not be said that the speaker delivered a most able and eloquent plea upon "Emancipation as a Peace Measure." Lincoln also made a marked contribution to the meeting. He telegraphed to Schurz the text of his message to congress recommending emancipation in the District of Columbia,—which resulted in the law already mentioned,—and this message of Lincoln was read to the meeting. The effect of it, following the speech of Schurz, was overwhelming. It was quite enough to satisfy the most sanguine expectations. This was not a coincidence, it was a plan. Lincoln's hand inthe whole matterwas not seen nor suspected for many years after. It gave a marked impetus to the sentiment of emancipation.
To the loyal slaveholders of the border states he made a proposal of compensated emancipation. To his great disappointment they rejected this. It was very foolish on their part, and he cautioned them that they might find worse trouble.
All this time, while holding back the eager spirits of the abolitionists, he was preparing for his final stroke. But it was of capital importance that this should not be premature. McClellan's failure to take Richmond and his persistent delay, hastened the result. The community at large became impatient beyond all bounds. There came about a feeling that something radical must be done, and that quickly. But it was still necessary that he should be patient. As the bravest fireman is the last to leave the burning structure, so the wise statesman must hold himself in check until the success of so important a measure is assured beyond a doubt.
An event which occurred later may be narrated here because it illustrates the feeling which Lincoln always had in regard to slavery. The item was written out by the President himself and given to the newspapers for publication under the heading,
"On Thursday of last week, two ladies from Tennessee came before the President, asking the release of their husbands, held as prisoners of war at Johnson's Island. They were put off until Friday, when they came again, and were again put off until Saturday. At each of the interviews one of the ladies urged that her husband was a religious man. On Saturday, when the President ordered the release of the prisoners, he said to this lady: You say your husband is a religious man; tell him when you meet him that I say I am not much of a judge of religion, but that, in my opinion, the religion that sets men to rebel and fight against their government because, as they think, that government does not sufficiently helpsomemen to eat their bread in the sweat ofothermen's faces, is not the sort of religion upon which people can get to heaven."
As the dreadful summer of 1862 advanced, Lincoln noted surely that the time was at hand when emancipation would be the master stroke. In discussing the possibilities of this measure he seemed to take the opposite side. This was a fixed habit with him. He drew out the thoughts of other people. He was enabled to see the subject from all sides. Even after his mind was made up to do a certain thing, he would still argue against it. But in any other sense than this he took counsel of no one upon the emancipation measure. The work was his work. He presented his tentative proclamation to the cabinet on the 22d of July, 1862. The rest of the story is best told in Lincoln's own words: —
"It had got to be midsummer, 1862. Things had gone on from bad to worse, until I felt that we had reached the end of our rope on the plan of operations we had been pursuing; that we had about played our last card, and must change our tactics or lose the game. I now determined upon the adoption of the emancipation policy; and without consultation with, or knowledge of, the cabinet, I prepared the original draft of the proclamation, and after much anxious thought called a cabinet meeting upon the subject…. I said to the cabinet that I had resolved upon this step, and had not called them together to ask their advice, but to lay the subject-matter of a proclamation before them, suggestions as to which would be in order after they had heard it read."
The members of the cabinet offered various suggestions, but none which Lincoln had not fully anticipated. Seward approved the measure but thought the time not opportune. There had been so many reverses in the war, that he feared the effect. "It may be viewed," he said, "as the last measure of an exhausted government, a cry for help; the government stretching forth its hands to Ethiopia, instead of Ethiopia stretching forth her hands to the government." He then suggested that the proclamation be not issued until it could be given to the country supported by military successes. This seemed to Lincoln a wise suggestion, and he acted on it. The document was laid away for the time.
It was not until September 17th that the looked-for success came. The Confederate army had crossed the Potomac with the intention of invading the North. They were met and completely defeated in the battle of Antietam. Lincoln said of it: "When Lee came over the river, I made a resolution that if McClellan drove him back I would send the proclamation after him. The battle of Antietam was fought Wednesday, and until Saturday I could not find out whether we had gained a victory or lost a battle. It was then too late to issue the proclamation that day; and the fact is I fixed it up a little Sunday, and Monday I let them have it."
This was the preliminary proclamation and was issued September 22d. The supplementary document, the real proclamation of emancipation, was issued January 1, 1863. As the latter covers substantially the ground of the former, it is not necessary to repeat both and only the second one is given.
Whereas, on the twenty-second day of September, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-two, a proclamation was issued by the President of the United States, containing, among other things, the following, to wit:—
That on the first day of January in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, all persons held as slaves within any state, or designated part of a state, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States, shall be then, thenceforward and forever free, and the Executive Government of the United States, including the military and naval authority thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of such persons, and will do no act or acts to repress such persons, or any of them, in any efforts they may make for their actual freedom.
That the Executive will, on the first day of January aforesaid by proclamation, designate the states and part of states, if any, in which the people thereof respectively shall then be in rebellion against the United States; and the fact that any state, or the people thereof, shall on that day be in good faith represented in the congress of the United States by members chosen thereto at elections wherein a majority of the qualified voters of such state shall have participated, shall, in the absence of strong countervailing testimony, be deemed conclusive evidence that such state and the people thereof are not then in rebellion against the United States:—
Now, therefore,I, Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, by virtue of the power in me vested as commander-in-chief of the army and navy of the United States, in time of actual armed rebellion against the authority of, and government of, the United States, and as a fit and necessary war measure for suppressing said rebellion, do, on this first day of January, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and in accordance with my purpose so to do, publicly proclaimed for the full period of one hundred days from the day first above mentioned, order, and designate, as the states and parts of states wherein the people thereof respectively are this day in rebellion against the United States [here follows the list].
And by virtue of the power and for the purpose aforesaid, I do order and declare that all persons held as slaves within said designated states and parts of states, are and henceforward shall be free; and that the executive government of the United States, including the military and naval authorities thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of said persons.
And I hereby enjoin upon the people so declared to be free, to abstain from all violence, unless in necessary self-defense, and I recommend to them, that in all cases, when allowed, they labor faithfully for reasonable wages.
And I further declare and make known that such persons of suitable condition will be received into the armed service of the United States to garrison forts, positions, stations, and other places, and to man vessels of all sorts in said service.
And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice, warranted by the Constitution, upon military necessity, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind and the gracious favor of almighty God.
In Testimony whereof,I have hereunto set my name and caused the seal of the United States to be affixed.
Done at the city of Washington, this first day of January, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the United States of America the eighty-seventh.
By the President:WILLIAM H. SEWARD, Secretary of State.
So he fulfilled his youthful vow. He had hit that thing, and he had hit it hard! From that blow the cursed institution of slavery will not recover in a thousand years.
The middle period of the war was gloomy and discouraging. Though theConfederates made no substantial progress they certainly held theirown. Time is an important factor in all history, and the fact that theConfederates at least gained time counted heavily against the Union.There were no decisive victories gained by the Federal troops.Antietam, to be sure, was won, but the fruits of the victory were lost.For many months the two armies continued facing each other, and for themost part they were much nearer Washington than Richmond.
Meantime the summer, fall, winter were passing by and there was no tangible evidence that the government would ever be able to maintain its authority. All this time the Army of the Potomac was magnificent in numbers, equipment, intelligence. In every respect but one they were decidedly superior to the enemy. The one thing they needed was leadership. The South had generals of the first grade. The generalship of the North had not yet fully developed.
Lincoln held on to McClellan as long as it was possible to do so. He never resented the personal discourtesies. He never wearied of the fruitless task of urging him on. He never refused to let him have his own way provided he could show a reason for it. But his persistent inactivity wore out the patience of the country and finally of the army itself. With the exception of northern democrats with southern sympathies, who from the first were sure of only one thing, namely, that the war was a failure, the clamor for the removal of McClellan was well-nigh unanimous. To this clamor Lincoln yielded only when it became manifestly foolish longer to resist it.
A succeeding question was no less important: Who shall take his place? There was in the East no general whose record would entitle him to this position of honor and responsibility. In all the country there was at that time no one whose successes were so conspicuous as to point him out as the coming man. But there were generals who had done good service, and just at that time. Burnside was at the height of his success. He was accordingly appointed. His record was good. He was an unusually handsome man, of soldierly bearing, and possessed many valuable qualities. He was warmly welcomed by the country at large and by his own army, who thanked God and took courage.
His first battle as commander of the Army of the Potomac was fought at Fredericksburg on the 15th of December and resulted in his being repulsed with terrible slaughter. It is possible, in this as in every other battle, that had certain things been a little different,—had it been possible to fight the battle three weeks earlier,—he would have won a glorious victory. But these thoughts do not bring to life the men who were slain in battle, nor do they quiet the clamor of the country. Burnside showed a certain persistence when, in disregard of the unanimous judgment of his generals, he tried to force a march through the heavy roads of Virginia, as sticky as glue, and give battle again. But he got stuck in the mud and the plan was given up, the only casualty, being the death of a large number of mules that were killed trying to draw wagons through the bottomless mud. After this one battle, it was plain that Burnside was not the coming general.
The next experiment was with Hooker, a valiant and able man, whose warlike qualities are suggested by his well-earned soubriquet of "fighting Joe Hooker." He had his limitations, as will presently appear. But upon appointing him to the command Lincoln wrote him a personal letter. This letter is here reproduced because it is a perfect illustration of the kindly patience of the man who had need of so much patience:
"EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON, D.C., January 26, 1863.
GENERAL: I have placed you at the head of the Army of the Potomac. Of course I have done this upon what appears to me to be sufficient reasons, and yet I think it best for you to know that there are some things in regard to which I am not satisfied with you. I believe you to be a brave and skilful soldier, which of course I like. I also believe that you do not mix politics with your profession, in which you are right. You have confidence in yourself, which is a valuable, if not indispensable, quality. You are ambitious, which, within reason, does good rather than harm; but I think that during General Burnside's command of the army you have taken counsel of your ambition and thwarted him as much as you could, in which you did a great wrong to the country, and to a most meritorious and honorable brother officer. I have heard, in such a way as to believe it, of your recently saying that both the army and the government needed a dictator. Of course it was not for this, but in spite of it, that I have given you the command. Only those generals who gain success can be dictators. What I now ask of you is military success, and I will risk the dictatorship. The government will support you to the utmost of its ability, which is neither more nor less than it has done and will do for all commanders. I much fear that the spirit you have aimed to infuse into the army, of criticising their commander and withholding confidence from him, will now turn upon you. I shall assist you as far as I can to put it down. Neither you, nor Napoleon, if he were alive again, could get any good out of an army while such a spirit prevails in it. And now, beware of rashness. Beware of rashness, but, with energy and sleepless vigilance, go forward and give us victories.
Yours, very truly,A. LINCOLN."
The first effect of this letter was to subdue the fractious spirit of the fighter. He said, "That is just such a letter as a father might write to a son. It is a beautiful letter, and although I think he was harder on me than I deserved, I will say that I love the man who wrote it."
But later his conceit took possession of him. According to Noah Brooks he said to some friends: "I suppose you have seen this letter or a copy of it?" They had. "After I have been to Richmond I shall have the letter published in the newspapers. It will be amusing." When this was told Lincoln he took the good-natured view of it and only said, "Poor Hooker! I am afraid he is incorrigible."
It was in January, 1863, that Hooker took command of the army. Three months later he had it in shape for the campaign, and Lincoln went down to see the review. It was indeed a magnificent army, an inspiring sight. But it was noticed by many that Lincoln's face had not the joyous radiancy of hope which it had formerly worn; it was positively haggard. It was plain that he did not share his general's easy confidence. He could not forget that he had more than once seen an army magnificent before battle, and shattered after battle. He spent a week there, talking with the generals, shaking hands with "the boys." Many a private soldier of that day carries to this day as a sacred memory the earnest sound of the President's voice, "God bless you!"
Then came Chancellorsville with its sickening consequences. When the news came to Washington, the President, with streaming eyes, could only exclaim: "My God, my God! what will the country say?"
The next we hear of Hooker, he had not entered Richmond nor had he found the amusement of publishing the President's fatherly letter. He was chasing Lee in a northerly direction,—towards Philadelphia or New York. He became angry with Halleck who refused him something and summarily resigned. It was not, for the country, an opportune time for changing generals, but perhaps it was as well. It certainly shows that while Lincoln took him as the best material at hand, while he counseled, encouraged, and bore with him, yet his diagnosis of Hooker's foibles was correct, and his fears, not his hopes, were realized.
He was succeeded by George C. Meade, "four-eyed George," as he was playfully called by his loyal soldiers, in allusion to his eyeglasses. It was only a few days later that the great battle of Gettysburg was fought under Meade, and a brilliant victory was achieved. But here, as at Antietam, the triumph was bitterly marred by the disappointment that followed. The victorious army let the defeated army get away. The excuses were about the same as at Antietam,—the troops were tired. Of course they were tired. But it may be assumed that the defeated army was also tired. It surely makes one army quite as tired to suffer defeat as it makes the other to achieve victory. It was again a golden opportunity to destroy Lee's army and end the war.
Perhaps Meade had achieved enough for one man in winning Gettysburg. It would not be strange if the three days' battle had left him with nerves unstrung. The fact remains that he did not pursue and annihilate the defeated army. They were permitted to recross the Potomac without molestation, to reenter what may be called their own territory, to reorganize, rest, reequip, and in due time to reappear as formidable as ever. It is plain that the hero of Gettysburg was not the man destined to crush the rebellion.
Here were three men, Burnside, Hooker, and Meade, all good men and gallant soldiers. But not one of them was able successfully to command so large an army, or to do the thing most needed,—capture Richmond. The future hero had not yet won the attention of the country.
In the meantime affairs were very dark for the administration, and up to the summer of 1863 had been growing darker and darker. Some splendid military success had been accomplished in the West, but the West is at best a vague term even to this day, and it has always seemed so remote from the capital, especially as compared to the limited theater of war in Virginia where the Confederate army was almost within sight of the capital, that these western victories did not have as much influence as they should have had.
And there were signal reverses in the West, too. Both Louisville and Cincinnati were seriously threatened, and the battle of Chickamauga was another field of slaughter, even though it was shortly redeemed by Chattanooga. But the attention of the country was necessarily focussed chiefly on the limited territory that lay between Washington and Richmond. In that region nothing permanent or decisive had been accomplished in the period of more than two years, and it is small wonder that the President became haggard in appearance.
He did what he could. He had thus far held the divided North, and prevented a European alliance with the Confederates. He now used, one by one, the most extreme measures. He suspended the writ ofhabeas corpus, declared or authorized martial law, authorized the confiscation of the property of those who were providing aid and comfort for the enemy, called for troops by conscription when volunteers ceased, and enlisted negro troops. Any person who studies the character of Abraham Lincoln will realize that these measures, or most of them, came from him with great reluctance. He was not a man who would readily or lightly take up such means. They meant that the country was pressed, hard pressed. They were extreme measures, not congenial to his accustomed lines of thought. They were as necessities.
But what Lincoln looked for, longed for, was the man who could use skillfully and successfully, the great Army of the Potomac. He had not yet been discovered.
The outlook from Washington during the first half of the year 1863 was as discouraging as could well be borne. There had been no real advance since the beginning of the war. Young men, loyal and enthusiastic, had gone into the army by hundreds of thousands. Large numbers of these, the flower of the northern youth, had been slain or wounded, and far larger numbers had died of exposure in the swamps of Virginia. There was still no progress. Washington had been defended, but there was hardly a day when the Confederates were not within menacing distance of the capital.
After the bloody disaster at Chancellorsville matters grew even worse. Lee first defeated Hooker in battle and then he out-maneuvered him. He cleverly eluded him, and before Hooker was aware of what was going on, he was on his way, with eighty thousand men, towards Philadelphia and had nearly a week's start of the Union army. The Confederates had always thought that if they could carry the war into the northern states they would fight to better advantage. Jeff Davis had threatened the torch, but it is not likely that such subordinates as General Lee shared his destructive and barbarous ambition. Still, Lee had a magnificent army, and its presence in Pennsylvania was fitted to inspire terror. It was also fitted to rouse the martial spirit of the northern soldiers, as afterwards appeared.
As soon as the situation was known, Hooker started in hot pursuit. After he had crossed the Potomac going north, he made certain requests of the War Department which were refused, and he, angry at the refusal, promptly sent in his resignation. Whether his requests were reasonable is one question; whether it was patriotic in him to resign on the eve of what was certain to be a great and decisive battle is another question. But his resignation was accepted and Meade was appointed to the command. He accepted the responsibility with a modest and soldierly spirit and quit himself like a man. It is one of the rare cases in all history in which an army has on the eve of battle made a change of generals without disaster. That is surely highly to the credit of General Meade. Lee's objective point was not known. He might capture Harrisburg or Philadelphia, or both. He would probably desire to cut off all communication with Washington. The only thing to do was to overtake him and force a battle. He himself realized this and was fully decided not to give battle but fight only on the defensive. Curiously enough, Meade also decided not to attack, but to fight on the defensive. Nevertheless, "the best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley."
The result was Gettysburg, and the battle was not fought in accordance with the plan of either commander. Uncontrollable events forced the battle then and there. This battle-field was some distance to the north, that is to say, in advance of Pipe Creek, the location selected by Meade. But a conflict between a considerable force on each side opened the famous battle on July 1st. A retreat, or withdrawal, to Pipe Creek would have been disastrous. The first clash was between Heth's division on the Confederate side, and Buford and Reynolds on the Union side. Rarely have soldiers been more eager for the fray than were those of the Union army at this time, especially the sons of Pennsylvania. "Up and at 'em" was the universal feeling. It was hardly possible to hold them back. The generals felt that it was not wise to hold them back. Thus, as one division after another, on both sides, came up to the help of their comrades, Gettysburg was accepted as the battle- field. It was selected by neither commander, it was thrust upon them by the fortunes of war, it was selected by the God of battles.
Almost the first victim on the Union side was that talented and brave soldier, the general in command, Reynolds. His place was later in the day,—that is, about four o'clock in the afternoon,—filled, and well filled, by General Hancock.
The scope of this volume does not permit the description of this great battle, and only some of the results may be given. The evening of July 1st closed in with the Union army holding out, but with the advantages, such as they were, on the Confederate side. The second day the fight was fiercely renewed and closed with no special advantage on either side. On the third day it was still undecided until in the afternoon when the climax came in Pickett's famous charge. This was the very flower of the Confederate army, and the hazard of the charge was taken by General Lee against the earnest advice of Longstreet. They were repulsed and routed, and that decided the battle. Lee's army was turned back, the attempted invasion was a failure, and it became manifest that even Lee could not fight to advantage on northern soil.
Gettysburg was the greatest battle ever fought on the western hemisphere, and it will easily rank as one of the great battles of either hemisphere. The number of troops was about 80,000 on each side. In the beginning the Confederates decidedly outnumbered the Federals, because the latter were more scattered and it took time to bring them up. In the latter part, the numbers were more nearly evenly divided, though nearly one-fourth of Meade's men were not in the battle at any time.
The total loss of killed, wounded, and missing, was on the Confederate side over 31,000; on the Union side, about 23,000. The Confederates lost seventeen generals, and the Federals twenty. When we consider this loss of generals, bearing in mind that on the Union side they were mostly those on whom Meade would naturally lean, it is hardly to be wondered at that he so far lost his nerve as to be unwilling to pursue the retreating enemy or hazard another battle. He could not realize that the enemy had suffered much more than he had, and that, despite his losses, he was in a condition to destroy that army. Not all that Lincoln could say availed to persuade him to renew the attack upon the retreating foe. When Lee reached the Potomac he found the river so swollen as to be impassable. He could only wait for the waters to subside or for time to improvise a pontoon bridge.
When, after waiting for ten days, Meade was aroused to make the attack, he was just one day too late. Lee had got his army safely into Virginia, and the war was not over. Lincoln could only say, "Providence has twice [the other reference is to Antietam] delivered the Army of Northern Virginia into our hands, and with such opportunities lost we ought scarcely to hope for a third chance."
Lincoln wrote a letter to Meade. He also wrote him a second letter—or was it the first?—which he did not send. We quote from this because it really expressed the President's mind, and because the fact that he did not send it only shows how reluctant he was to wound another's feelings even when deserved.
"Again, my dear general, I do not believe you appreciate the magnitude of the misfortune involved in Lee's escape. He was within your easy grasp, and to have closed upon him would, in connection with our other late successes, have ended the war. As it is, the war will be prolonged indefinitely. If you could not safely attack Lee last Monday, how can you possibly do so south of the river, when you can take with you very few more than two-thirds of the force you then had in hand? It would be unreasonable to expect, and I do not expect, that you can now effect much. Your golden opportunity is gone, and I am distressed immeasurably because of it. I beg you will not consider this a prosecution or persecution of yourself. As you had learned that I was dissatisfied, I thought it best to kindly tell you why."
While not overlooking Meade's omission, as this letter shows, he appreciated the full value of the victory that checked Lee's advance, and thanked the general heartily for that.
On the same afternoon of July 3d, almost at the very minute that Pickett was making his charge, there was in progress, a thousand miles to the west, an event of almost equal importance. Just outside the fortifications of Vicksburg, under an oak tree, General Grant had met the Confederate General, Pemberton, to negotiate terms of surrender. The siege of Vicksburg was a great triumph, and its capitulation was of scarcely less importance than the victory at Gettysburg. Vicksburg commanded the Mississippi River and was supposed to be impregnable. Surely few cities were situated more favorably to resist either attack or siege. But Admiral Porter got his gunboats below the city, running the batteries in the night, and Grant's investment was complete. The Confederate cause was hopeless, their men nearly starved.
Grant'splanwas to make a final attack (if necessary) on the 6th or 7th day of July; but some time previous to this he had predicted that the garrison would surrender on the fourth. General Pemberton tried his utmost to avoid this very thing. When it became apparent that he could not hold out much longer, he opened negotiations on the morning of July 3d for the specific purpose of forestalling the possibility of surrender on the next day, Independence Day. In his report to the Confederate government he claims to have chosen the 4th of July for surrender, because he thought that he could secure better terms on that day. But his pompous word has little weight, and all the evidence points the other way. When on the morning of the 3d of July he opened negotiations, he could not possibly have foreseen that it would take twenty-four hours to arrange the terms.
It was, then, on the 4th of July that Grant occupied Vicksburg. The account by Nicolay and Hay ends with the following beautiful reflection: "It is not the least of the glories gained by the Army of the Tennessee in this wonderful campaign that not a single cheer went up from the Union ranks, not a single word [was spoken] that could offend their beaten foes."
The loss to the Union army in killed, wounded, and missing, was about 9,000. The Confederate loss was nearly 50,000. To be sure many of the paroled were compelled to reenlist according to the policy of the Confederate government. But even so their parole was a good thing for the cause of the Union. They were so thoroughly disaffected that their release did, for the time, more harm than good to the southern cause. Then it left Grant's army free.
The sequel to this victory came ten months later in Sherman's march to the sea: not less thrilling in its conception and dramatic in its execution than any battle or siege. Much fighting, skilful generalship, long patience were required before this crowning act could be done, but it came in due time and was one of the finishing blows to the Confederacy, and it came as a logical result of the colossal victory at Vicksburg.
There were some eddies and counter currents to the main drift of affairs. About the time that Lee and his beaten army were making good their escape, terrific riots broke out in New York City in resisting the draft. As is usual in mob rule the very worst elements of human or devilish depravity came to the top and were most in evidence. For several days there was indeed a reign of terror. The fury of the mob was directed particularly against the negroes. They were murdered. Their orphan asylum was burnt. But the government quickly suppressed the riot with a firm hand. The feeling was general throughout the country that we were now on the way to a successful issue of the war. The end was almost in sight. Gettysburg and Vicksburg, July 3 and 4, 1863, had inspired new hopes never to be quenched.
On the 15th day of July the President issued a thanksgiving proclamation, designating August 6th as the day. Later in the year he issued another thanksgiving proclamation, designating the last Thursday in November. Previous to that time, certain states, and not a few individuals, were in the habit of observing a thanksgiving day in November. Indeed the custom, in a desultory way, dates back to Plymouth Colony. But these irregular and uncertain observances never took on the semblance of a national holiday.Thatdates from the proclamation issued October 3d, 1863. From that day to this, every President has every year followed that example.
Lincoln was invited to attend a public meeting appointed for August 26th at his own city of Springfield, the object of which was to concert measures for the maintenance of the Union. The pressure of public duties did not permit him to leave Washington, but he wrote a characteristic letter, a part of which refers to some of the events touched on in this chapter. A few sentences of this letter are here given:
"The Father of Waters again goes unvexed to the sea. Thanks to the great Northwest for it; nor yet wholly to them. Three hundred miles tip they met New England, Empire, Keystone, and Jersey, hewing their way right and left. The sunny South, too, in more colors than one, also lent a helping hand. On the spot, their part of the history was jotted down in black and white. The job was a great national one, and let none be slighted who bore an honorable part in it. And while those who have cleared the great river may well be proud, even that is not all. It is hard to say that anything has been more bravely and well done than at Antietam, Murfreesboro, Gettysburg, and on many fields of less note. Nor must Uncle Sam's web-feet be forgotten. At all the watery margins they have been present, not only on the deep sea, the broad bay, and the rapid river, but also up the narrow, muddy bayou, and wherever the ground was a little damp, they have been and made their tracks. Thanks to all. For the great republic—for the principle it lives by and keeps alive—for man's vast future—thanks to all.
"Peace does not appear so distant as it did. I hope it will come soon and come to stay; and so come as to be worth the keeping in all future time. It will then have been proved that among freemen there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet, and that they who take such appeal are sure to lose their case and pay the cost. And there will be some black men who can remember that with silent tongue and clenched teeth and steady eye and well-poised bayonet they have helped mankind on to this great consummation; while I fear there will be some white ones unable to forget that with malignant heart and deceitful speech they have striven to hinder it."
It is plain that after July 4, 1863, the final result was no longer doubtful. So Lincoln felt it. There were indeed some who continued to cry that the war was a failure, but in such cases the wish was only father to the thought.
The great army of R. E. Lee operated, through the whole period of the four years of the war, almost within sight of Washington City. It is not in the least strange that eastern men, many of whom had hardly crossed the Alleghanies, should think that the operations in Virginia were about all the war there was, and that the fighting in the West was of subordinate importance. Lincoln could not fall into this error. Not only had he a singularly broad vision, but he was himself a western man. He fully appreciated the magnitude of the operations in that vast territory lying between the Alleghanies on the east and the western boundary of Missouri on the west. He also clearly understood the importance of keeping open the Mississippi River throughout its entire length.
At the very time the Army of the Potomac was apparently doing nothing, —winning no victories, destroying no armies, making no permanent advances,—there was a man in the West who was building up for himself a remarkable reputation. He was all the while winning victories, destroying armies, making advances. He was always active, he was always successful. The instant one thing was accomplished he turned his energies to a new task. This was Grant.
He was a graduate of West Point, had seen service in the Mexican War, and ultimately rose to the grade of captain. At the outbreak of the war he was in business with his father in Galena, Illinois. When the President called for the 75,000 men, Grant proceeded at once to make himself useful by drilling volunteer troops. He was by the governor of Illinois commissioned as colonel, and was soon promoted. His first service was in Missouri. When stationed at Cairo he seized Paducah on his own responsibility. This stroke possibly saved Kentucky for the Union, for the legislature, which had up to that time been wavering, declared at once in favor of the Union.
He was then ordered to break up a Confederate force at Belmont, a few miles below Cairo. He started at once on his expedition, and though the enemy was largely reinforced before his arrival, he was entirely successful and returned with victory, not excuses.
Then came Forts Henry and Donaldson. The latter attracted unusual attention because it was the most important Union victory up to that time, and because of his epigrammatic reply to the offer of surrender. When asked what terms he would allow, his reply was, "Unconditional surrender." As these initials happened to fit the initials of his name, he was for a long time called "Unconditional Surrender Grant." So he passed promptly from one task to another, from one victory to another. And Lincoln kept watch of him. He began to think that Grant was the man for the army.
It has been said that Lincoln, while he gave general directions to his soldiers, and freely offered suggestions, left them to work out the military details in their own way. This is so well illustrated in his letter to Grant that, for this reason, as well as for the intrinsic interest of the letter, it is here given in full:
"MY DEAR GENERAL:—I do not remember that you and I ever met personally. I write this now as a grateful acknowledgment for the almost inestimable service you have done the country. I wish to say a word further. When you first reached the vicinity of Vicksburg, I thought you should do what you finally did—march the troops across the neck, run the batteries with the transports, and thus go below; and I never had any faith, except a general hope that you knew better than I, that the Yazoo Pass expedition and the like could succeed. When you got below and took Port Gibson, Grand Gulf, and vicinity, I thought you should go down the river and join General Banks; and when you turned northward, east of the Big Black, I thought it was a mistake. I now wish to make the personal acknowledgment that you were right and I was wrong."
There was surely no call for this confession, no reason for the letter, except the bigness of the heart of the writer. Like the letter to Hooker, it was just such a letter as a father might write a son. It was the production of a high grade of manliness.
Prominence always brings envy, fault-finding, hostility. From this Grant did not escape. The more brilliant and uniform his successes, the more clamorous a certain class of people became. The more strictly he attended to his soldierly duties, the more busily certain people tried to interfere,—to tell him how to do, or how not to do. In their self- appointed censorship they even besieged the President and made life a burden to him. With wit and unfailing good nature, he turned their criticisms. When they argued that Grant could not possibly be a good soldier, he replied, "I like him; he fights."
When they charged him with drunkenness, Lincoln jocularly proposed that they ascertain the brand of the whisky he drank and buy up a large amount of the same sort to send to his other generals, so that they might win victories like him!
Grant's important victories in the West came in rapid and brilliant succession. Forts Henry and Donaldson were captured in February, 1862. The battle of Shiloh, or Pittsburg Landing, was fought in April of the same year. Vicksburg surrendered July 4th, 1863. And the battle of Chattanooga took place in November of that year.
Grant was always sparing of words and his reports were puzzling to the administration. He always reported, and that promptly. But his reports were of the briefest description and in such marked contrast to those of all other officers known to the government, that they were a mystery to those familiar with certain others. Lincoln said that Grant could do anything except write a report. He concluded to send a trusty messenger to see what manner of man this victorious general was. Charles A. Dana, Assistant-Secretary of War, was chosen for this purpose. His investigation was satisfactory, fully so. Lincoln's confidence in, and hopes for, this rising warrior were fully justified.
It was after the capitulation of Vicksburg that Grant grasped the fact that he was the man destined to end the war. After the battle of Chattanooga public opinion generally pointed to him as the general who was to lead our armies to ultimate victory. In February, 1864, congress passed an act creating the office of Lieutenant General. The President approved that act on Washington's birthday, and nominated Grant for that office. The senate confirmed this nomination on March 2d, and Grant was ordered to report at Washington.
With his usual promptness he started at once for Washington, arriving there the 8th of March. The laconic conversation which took place between the President and the general has been reported about as follows:—
"What do you want me to do?"
"To take Richmond. Can you do it?"
"Yes, if you furnish me troops enough."
That evening there was a levee at the White House which he attended. The crowd were very eager to see him, and he was persuaded to mount a sofa, which he did blushing, so that they might have a glimpse of him, but he could not be prevailed on to make a speech. On parting that evening with the President, he said, "This is the warmest campaign I have witnessed during the war."
That evening Lincoln informed him that he would on the next day formally present his commission with a brief speech—four sentences in all. He suggested that Grant reply in a speech suitable to be given out to the country in the hope of reviving confidence and courage. The formality of the presentation occurred the next day, but the general disappointed the President as to the speech. He accepted the commission with remarks of soldier-like brevity.
It is fitting here to say of General Meade that as he had accepted his promotion to the command of the Army of the Potomac with dignified humility, so he accepted his being superseded with loyal obedience. In both cases he was a model of a patriot and a soldier.
As soon as he received his commission Grant visited his future army— the Army of the Potomac. Upon his return Mrs. Lincoln planned to give a dinner in his honor. But this was not to his taste. He said, "Mrs. Lincoln must excuse me. I must be in Tennessee at a given time."
"But," replied the President, "we can't excuse you. Mrs. Lincoln's dinner without you would be Hamlet with Hamlet left out."
"I appreciate the honor Mrs. Lincoln would do me," he said, "but time is very important now—and really—Mr. Lincoln—I have had enough of this show business."
Mr. Lincoln was disappointed in losing the guest for dinner, but he was delighted with the spirit of his new general.
Grant made his trip to the West. How he appreciated the value of time is shown by the fact that he had his final conference with his successor, General Sherman, who was also his warm friend, on the railway trainen routeto Cincinnati. He had asked Sherman to accompany him so far for the purpose of saving time.
On March 17th General Grant assumed command of the armies of the United States with headquarters in the field. He was evidently in earnest. As Lincoln had cordially offered help and encouragement to all the other generals, so he did to Grant. The difference between one general and another was not in Lincoln's offer of help, or refusal to give it, but there was a difference in the way in which his offers were received. The following correspondence tells the story of the way he held himself alert to render assistance:
WASHINGTON, April 30, 1864.
Not expecting to see you again before the spring campaign opens, I wish to express in this way my entire satisfaction with what you have done up to this time, so far as I understand it. The particulars of your plan I neither know nor seek to know. You are vigilant and self- reliant; and, pleased with this, I wish not to obtrude any constraints or restraints upon you. While I am very anxious that any great disaster or capture of our men in great numbers shall be avoided, I know these points will be less likely to escape your attention than they would be mine. If there is anything wanting which is within my power to give, do not fail to let me know it. And now, with a brave army and a just cause, may God sustain you.
Yours very truly,A. LINCOLN."
"Headquarters Armies of the United States,Culpepper Court-House, May 1, 1864."
"Your very kind letter of yesterday is just received. The confidence you express for the future and satisfaction with the past in my military administration is acknowledged with pride. It will be my earnest endeavor that you and the country shall not be disappointed. From my first entrance into the volunteer service of the country to the present day, I have never had cause of complaint—have never expressed or implied a complaint against the Administration, or the Secretary of War, for throwing any embarrassment in the way of my vigorously prosecuting what appeared to me my duty. Indeed since the promotion which placed me in command of all the armies, and in view of the great responsibility and importance of success, I have been astonished at the readiness with which everything asked for has been yielded, without even an explanation being asked. Should my success be less than I desire and expect, the least I can say is, the fault is not with you.
Very truly, your obedient servant,U. S. Grant,Lieut-General."
There is just here a subject on which there is a curious difference of opinion between Grant and John Hay. Grant says that, on his last visit to Washington before taking the field, the President had become acquainted with the fact that a general movement had been ordered all along the line, andseemed(italics ours) to think it a new feature in war. He explained this plan to the President who was greatly interested and said, "Oh, yes! I see that. As we say out West, if a man can't skin, he must hold a leg while somebody else does."
There is, at the same time, documentary evidence that Lincoln had been continually urging this precise plan on all his generals. Mr. Hay therefore distrusts the accuracy of General Grant's memory. To the present writer, there is no mystery in the matter. The full truth is large enough to include the statement of Grant as well as that of Nicolay and Hay. Mr. Hay is certainly right in claiming that Lincoln from the first desired such a concerted movement all along the line; for, even though not all could fight at the same time, those not fighting could help otherwise. This was the force of the western proverb, "Those not skinning can hold a leg," which he quoted to all his generals from Buell to Grant.
When therefore Grant explained precisely this plan to Lincoln, the latter refrained from the natural utterance,—"That is exactly what I have been trying to get our generals to do all these years." In courtesy to Grant he did not claim to have originated the plan, hut simply preserved a polite silence. He followed eagerly as the general reiterated his own ideas, and the exclamation, "Oh, yes! I see that," would mean more to Lincoln than Grant could possibly have guessed. He did see it, he had seen it a long time.
It will be remembered that Lincoln had, for the sake of comprehending the significance of one word, mastered Euclid after he became a lawyer. There is here another evidence of the same thoroughness and force of will. During the months when the Union armies were accomplishing nothing, he procured the necessary books and set himself, in the midst of all his administrative cares, to the task of learning the science of war. That he achieved more than ordinary success will now surprise no one who is familiar with his character. His military sagacity is attested by so high an authority as General Sherman. Other generals have expressed their surprise and gratification at his knowledge and penetration in military affairs. But never at any time did he lord it over his generals. He did make suggestions. He did ask McClellan why one plan was better than another. He did ask some awkward questions of Meade. But it was his uniform policy to give his generals all possible help, looking only for results, and leaving details unreservedly in their hands. This is the testimony of McClellan and Grant, and the testimony of the two generals, so widely different in character and method, should be and is conclusive. Grant says that Lincoln expressly assured him that he preferred not to know his purposes,—he desired only to learn what means he needed to carry them out, and promised to furnish these to the full extent of his power.
Side by side these two men labored, each in his own department, until the war was ended and their work was done. Though so different, they were actuated by the same spirit. Not even the southern generals themselves had deeper sympathy with, or greater tenderness for, the mass of the Confederate soldiers. It was the same magnanimity in Lincoln and Grant that sent the conquered army, after their final defeat, back to the industries of peace that they might be able to provide against their sore needs.
When that madman assassinated the President, the conspiracy included also the murder of the general. This failed only by reason of Grant's unexpected absence from Washington City on the night of the crime.
The duties of the President of the United States include the writing of state papers that are considerable both in number and in volume. Many of the Presidents, from Washington down, have been men of great ability, and almost all of them have had sufficient academic training or intellectual environments in their early years. These state papers have frequently been such as to compare favorably with those of the ablest statesmen of Europe. With every new election of President the people wait in expectancy for the inaugural address and the messages to congress. These are naturally measured by the standard of what has preceded—not of all that has preceded, for the inferior ones are forgotten, but of the best. This is no light test for any man.
Lincoln's schooling was so slight as to be almostnil. He did not grow up in a literary atmosphere. But in the matter of his official utterances he must be compared with the ablest geniuses and most cultured scholars that have preceded him, and not merely with his early associates. He is to be measured with Washington, the Adamses, Jefferson, and not with the denizens of Gentryville or New Salem.
Perhaps the best study of his keenness of literary criticism will be found in his correction of Seward's letter of instruction to Charles Francis Adams, minister to England, under date of May 21, 1861. Seward was a brilliant scholar, a polished writer, a trained diplomatist. If any person were able to compose a satisfactory letter for the critical conditions of that period, he was the one American most likely to do it. He drafted the letter and submitted it to Lincoln for suggestions and corrections. The original manuscript with Lincoln's interlineations, is still preserved, and facsimiles, or copies, are given in various larger volumes of Lincoln's biography. This document is very instructive. In every case Lincoln's suggestion is a marked improvement on the original. It shows that he had the better command of precise English. Lowell himself could not have improved his criticisms. It shows, too, that he had a firmer grasp of the subject. Had Seward's paper gone without these corrections, it is almost certain that diplomatic relations with England would have been broken off. In literary matters Lincoln was plainly the master and Seward was the pupil.
The power which Lincoln possessed of fitting language to thought is marked. It made him the matchless story-teller, and gave sublimity to his graver addresses. His thoroughness and accuracy were a source of wonder and delight to scholars. He had a masterful grasp of great subjects. He was able to look at events from all sides, so as to appreciate how they would appear to different grades of intelligence, different classes of people, different sections of the country. More than once this many-sidedness of his mind saved the country from ruin. Wit and humor are usually joined with their opposite, pathos, and it is therefore not surprising that, being eminent in one, he should possess all three characteristics. In his conversation his humor predominated, in his public speeches pure reasoning often rose to pathos.
If the author were to select a few of his speeches or papers fitted to give the best example of his literary qualities, and at the same time present an evidence of the progress of his doctrine along political lines, he would name the following: The House-divided-against-itself speech, delivered at Springfield June 16, 1858. The underlying thought of this was that the battle between freedom and slavery was sure to be a fight to the finish.
Next is the Cooper Institute speech, Feb. 12, 1860. The argument in this is that, in the thought and intent of the founders of our government, the Union was permanent and paramount, while slavery was temporary and secondary.
Next was his inaugural, March 4, 1861. This warned the country against sectional war. It declared temperately but firmly, that he would perform the duties which his oath of office required of him, but he wouldnotbegin a war: if war came the aggressors must be those of the other side.
The next was the Emancipation Proclamation, September 22, 1862, and January 1, 1863. This was not a general and complete emancipation of all slaves, it was primarily a military device, a war measure, freeing the slaves of those who were in actual and armed rebellion at the time. It was intended to weaken the belligerent powers of the rebels, and a notice of the plan was furnished more than three months in advance, giving ample time to all who wished to do so, to submit to the laws of their country and save that portion of their property that was invested in slaves.
Then came the second inaugural, March 4, 1865. There was in this little to discuss, for he had no new policy to proclaim, he was simply to continue the policy of the past four years, of which the country had shown its approval by reelecting him. The end of the war was almost in sight, it would soon he finished. But in this address there breathes an intangible spirit which gives it marvelous grandeur. Isaiah was a prophet who was also a statesman. Lincoln—we say it with reverence— was a statesman who was also a prophet. He had foresight. He had _in_sight. He saw the hand of God shaping events, he saw the spirit of God in events. Such is his spiritual elevation of thought, such his tenderness of yearning, that there is no one but Isaiah to whom we may fittingly compare him, in the manly piety of his closing paragraph:
"Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said, 'The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether. With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have home the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan; to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations."
The study of these five speeches, or papers, will give the salient points of his political philosophy, and incidentally of his intellectual development. These are not enough to show the man Lincoln, but they do give a true idea of the great statesman. They show a symmetrical and wonderful growth. Great as was the House-divided- against-itself speech, there is yet a wide difference between that and the second inaugural: and the seven years intervening accomplished this growth of mind and of spirit only because they were years of great stress.
Outside of this list is the address at the dedication of Gettysburg cemetery, November 19, 1863. This was not intended for an oration. Edward Everett was the orator of the occasion. Lincoln's part was to pronounce the formal words of dedication. It was a busy time—all times were busy with him, but this was unusually busy—and he wrote it on a sheet of foolscap paper in such odd moments as he could command. In form it is prose, but in effect it is a poem. Many of its sentences are rhythmical. The occasion lifted him into a higher realm of thought. The hearers were impressed by his unusual gravity and solemnity of manner quite as much, perhaps, as by the words themselves. They were awed, many were moved to tears. The speech is given in full:
"Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us,—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion,—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain,—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom,—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."
The effect of this speech was not immediate. Colonel Lamon was on the platform when it was delivered and he says very decidedly that Everett, Seward, himself, and Lincoln were all of opinion that the speech was a failure. He adds: "I state it as a fact, and without fear of contradiction, that this famous Gettysburg speech was not regarded by the audience to whom it was addressed, or by the press or people of the United States, as a production of extraordinary merit, nor was it commented on as such until after the death of the author."
A search through the files of the leading New York dailies for several days immediately following the date of the speech, seems to confirm Lamon's remark—all except the last clause above quoted. These papers give editorial praise to the oration of Everett, they comment favorably on a speech by Beecher (who had just returned from England), but they make no mention of Lincoln's speech. It is true that a day or two later Everett wrote him a letter of congratulation upon his success. But this may have been merely generous courtesy,—as much as to say, "Don't feel badly over it, it was a much better speech than you think!" Or, on the other hand, it may have been the result of his sober second thought, the speech had time to soak in.
But the silence of the great daily papers confirms Lamon up to a certain point. At the very first the speech was not appreciated. But after a few days the public awoke to the fact that Lincoln's "few remarks" were immeasurably superior to Everett's brilliant and learned oration. The author distinctly remembers that it was compared to the oration of Pericles in memory of the Athenian dead; that it was currently said that there had been no memorial oration from that date to Lincoln's speech of equal power. This comparison with Pericles is certainly high praise, but is it not true? The two orations are very different: Lincoln's was less than three hundred words long, that of Pericles near three thousand. Pericles gloried in war, Lincoln mourned over the necessity of war and yearned after peace. But both orators alike appreciated the glory of sacrifice for one's country. And it is safe to predict that this Gettysburg address, brief, hastily prepared, underestimated by its author, will last as long as the republic shall last, as long as English speech shall endure.