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Selected American history
The Life of Abraham Lincoln
By Henry Ketcham
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE NOMINATION OF 1860.
The subject of this chapter is the republican convention that nominated
Lincoln for the presidency. But for an intelligent narration of this,
it is necessary to give a brief account of at least one of the three
other important political conventions that were held that year. That
one was the regular democratic convention at Charleston. And certain
other facts also must be narrated.
Leaven was working in two respects. The first is that the plan of
secession and of setting up a Southern nation founded upon slavery, was
not a sudden or impromptu thought. The evidence is conclusive that the
plan had been maturing for years. Recent events had shown that slavery
had reached the limit of its development so far as concerned the
territory of the United States. The plan to annex Cuba as a garden for
the culture of slavery, had failed. California had been admitted as a
free state. Slavery had been excluded from Kansas, although that
territory had for two years been denied admission to the sisterhood of
states.
As the slave power was not content with any limitation whatever, its
leaders now looked for an opportunity to break up this present
government and start a new one. At the time (December, 1860) South
Carolina passed the ordinance of secession, to be narrated later,
certain things were said which may be quoted here. These utterances
exposed the spirit that animated the slave power long before Lincoln's
election, long before he was even known in politics.
Parker said that the movement of secession had been "gradually
culminating for a long series of years."
Inglis endorsed the remark and added, "Most of us have had this matter
under consideration for the last twenty years."
Keitt said, "I have been engaged in this movement ever since I
entered political life."
Rhett said, "The secession of South Carolina was not the event of a
day. It is not anything produced by Mr. Lincoln's election, or by the
non-execution of the fugitive slave law. It is a matter which has been
gathering head for thirty years. The election of Lincoln and
Hamlin was the last straw on the back of the camel. But it was not the
only one. The back was nearly broken before.
The other important fact was the result of Lincoln's Freeport question.
The answer of Douglas was: "I answer emphatically ... that in my
opinion the people of a territory can, by lawful means, exclude slavery
from its limits prior to the formation of a state constitution." This
answer satisfied the democrats of Illinois and secured his election to
the senate, as Lincoln predicted that it would. But it angered the
southern leaders beyond all reason--as Lincoln knew it would.
When, therefore, the democratic convention met in Charleston, the first
purpose of the southern leaders was to defeat Douglas. In their
judgment he was not orthodox on slavery. He was far the strongest
candidate before the convention, but he was not strong enough to secure
the two-thirds vote which under the rules of that party were necessary
to a choice. After fifty-seven ballots, and a corresponding amount of
debating, the feeling of antagonism rising, continually higher, the
crisis came. The southern delegates withdrew from the convention and
appointed a convention of their own to be held in Richmond. This was
done with the full knowledge that, if it accomplished anything, it
would accomplish the defeat of the party. It was probably done for this
very purpose,--to defeat the party,--so as to give an excuse, more or
less plausible, for carrying out the matured plan of secession,
claiming to be injured or alarmed at the ascendancy of the republican
party.
Up to this point, at least, Lincoln had no aspirations for the
presidency. But he did aspire to the United States senate. He accepted
his defeat by Douglas in 1858 as only temporary. He knew there would be
another senatorial election in four years. When asked how he felt about
this defeat, he turned it into a joke, and said that he felt "like the
boy who had stubbed his toe, too badly to laugh, and he was too big to
cry."
He had thought of being nominated as vice-president with Seward as
President, which would have given him, if elected, a place in the
senate. He was glad of any possible prominence in the Chicago
convention, which was still in the future. For that would help his
senatorial aspirations when the time came. But as to anything higher,
he declared, "I must in all candor say that I do not think myself fit
for the presidency." And he was an honest man. With the senate still in
view, he added, "I am not in a position where it would hurt me much not
to be nominated [for president] on the national ticket; but I am where
it would hurt some for me not to get the Illinois delegates."
Thus, at the beginning of the year 1860, Lincoln was in no sense in the
race for the presidential nomination. About that time a list of twenty-
one names of possible candidates was published in New York; Lincoln's
name was not on the list. A list of thirty-five was published in
Philadelphia. Lincoln's name was not on that list. After the speech at
Cooper Institute the Evening Post mentioned Lincoln's name along with
others. That was the only case in the East.
In Illinois his candidacy developed in February and came to ahead at
the republican state convention at Decatur. Lincoln's name had been
prominent in the preceding local conventions, and the enthusiasm was
growing. Decatur was very near to the place where Thomas Lincoln had
first settled when he came into the state. When Abraham Lincoln came
into this convention he was greeted with an outburst of enthusiasm.
After order had been restored, the chairman, Governor Oglesby,
announced that an old-time Macon County democrat desired to make a
contribution to the convention. The offer being accepted, a banner was
borne up the hall upon two old fence rails. The whole was gaily
decorated and the inscription was:
ABRAHAM LINCOLN,
THE RAIL CANDIDATE
FOR PRESIDENT IN 1860.
Two rails from a lot of 3,000 made in 1830 by
Thos. Hanks and Abe Lincoln-whose
father was the first pioneer of
Macon County.
This incident was the means of enlarging the soubriquet "Honest Abe" to
"Honest Old Abe, the Rail-splitter." The enthusiasm over the rails
spread far and wide. That he had split rails, and that he even had done
it well, was no test of his statesmanship. But it was a reminder of his
humble origin, and it attached him to the common people, between whom
and himself there had always been a warm feeling of mutual sympathy.
The democratic convention had, after the bolt of the extreme
southerners, adjourned to Baltimore, where they duly nominated Douglas.
What any one could have done for the purpose of restoring harmony in
the party, he did. But the breach was too wide for even that astute
politician to bridge over. Lincoln grasped the situation. It was what
he had planned two years before, and he confidently expected just this
breach. "Douglas never can be President," he had said. He fully
understood the relentless bitterness of the slave power, and he well
knew that whatever Douglas might do for the northern democrats, he had
lost all influence with the southern branch of that party. So Lincoln
told his "little story" and serenely awaited the result.
The second republican national convention met in Chicago, May 16, 1860.
A temporary wooden structure, called a wigwam, had been built for the
purpose. It was, for those days, a very large building, and would
accommodate about ten thousand people.
The man who was, far and away, the most prominent candidate for the
nomination, was William H. Seward, of New York. He had the benefit of
thirty years of experience in political life. He was a man of wide
learning, fine culture, unequaled as a diplomatist; he was a patriot, a
statesman, and loyal to the principles of the republican party. He had
a plurality of the delegates by a wide margin, though not a majority.
It seemed a foregone conclusion that he would be nominated. Horace
Greeley, who was determinedly opposed to him, gave up the contest and
telegraphed to his paper that Seward would be nominated. The
opposition, he said, could not unite on any one man.
The next most prominent name was Lincoln. He had the full delegation of
Illinois, who, at Decatur, had been instructed to vote for him as "the
first and only choice" of the state. He had many votes, too, from the
neighboring states.
In addition to these two candidates before the convention, there were
half a dozen others, all "favorite sons" of their own states, but who
at no time developed any great strength.
The only point against Seward was his inability to carry certain
doubtful states. If the split in the democratic party had not occurred,
and if the election were to be carried according to the experience of
1856, it would be necessary for the republicans to carry certain states
which they had at that time failed to carry. The most available states
were Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Indiana, and Illinois. Under favorable
circumstances, these could be carried. Seward's long public career had
inevitably caused antagonisms, and these necessary states he could not
carry. The question with his opponents then was, Who is most likely to
carry these states? Lincoln's popularity in three of the four states
named singled him out as the rival of Seward. It then became only a
question whether the opposition to Seward could or could not unite in
the support of Lincoln.
At this point there came in a political ruse which has been often used
in later years. Seward's friends had taken to Chicago a small army of
claquers, numbering nearly or quite two thousand. These were
distributed through the audience and were apparently under orders to
shout whenever Seward's name was mentioned. This gave the appearance of
spontaneous applause and seemed to arouse great enthusiasm for the
candidate.
Lincoln's friends soon came to understand the situation and planned to
beat their rivals at their own game. They sent out into the country and
secured two men with phenomenal voices. It was said, with playful
exaggeration, that these two men could shout so as to be heard across
Lake Michigan. They were made captains of two stentorian bands of
followers. These were placed on opposite sides of the auditorium and
were instructed to raise the shout at a preconcerted signal and keep it
up as long as desired. The plan worked.
Leonard Swett describes the result: "Caleb B. Smith of Indiana then
seconded the nomination of Lincoln, and the West came to his rescue. No
mortal before ever saw such a scene. The idea of us Hoosiers and
Suckers being out-screamed would have been as bad to them as the loss
of their man. Five thousand people at once leaped to their seats, women
not wanting in the number, and the wild yell made soft vesper
breathings of all that had preceded. No language can describe it. A
thousand steam-whistles, ten acres of hotel gongs, a tribe of Comanches
headed by a choice vanguard from pandemonium, might have mingled in the
scene unnoticed."
A dramatic scene had occurred at the adoption of the platform. When the
first resolution was read, Joshua E. Giddings, an old-time abolitionist
of the extreme type, moved as an amendment to incorporate the words
from the Declaration of Independence which announce the right of all
men to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." The hostility to
this amendment was not so much owing to an objection to the phrase, as
to its being introduced upon the motion of so extreme a partisan as
Giddings. The new party was made up of men of various old parties, and
it was important that the moderate democrats should not be antagonized
by the extreme abolitionists. The motion was lost by a decided vote,
and the old man, almost broken-hearted, left the hall amid the
protestations of his associates.
There then came to his rescue a young man, about thirty-six years of
age, who was then not widely known, but who since has more than once
decidedly influenced republican conventions at a critical stage of the
proceedings. It was George William Curtis. When the second resolution
was under consideration he presented the amendment of Giddings in a
form slightly modified. He then urged it in an impassioned speech, and
by his torrent of eloquence carried the enthusiasm of the convention
with him. "I have to ask this convention," he concluded, "whether they
are prepared to go upon the record before the country as voting down
the words of the Declaration of Independence.... I rise simply to ask
gentlemen to think well before, upon the free prairies of the West, in
the summer of 1860, they dare to wince and quail before the assertion
of the men of Philadelphia in 1776--before they dare to shrink from
repeating the words that these great men enunciated."
The amendment was adopted in a storm of applause. Giddings, overjoyed
at the result, returned to the hall. He threw his arms about Curtis
and, with deep emotion, exclaimed,--"God bless you, my boy! You have
saved the republican party. God bless you!"
The candidates in those days were simply announced without speeches of
glorification, Mr. Evarts of New York named Seward, and Mr. Judd of
Illinois named Lincoln. The names of half a dozen "favorite sons" were
offered by their states, the most important being Bates of Missouri.
After the seconding of the nominations the convention proceeded to the
ballot. There were 465 votes, and 233 were necessary for a choice.
On the first ballot Seward received 173-1/2, and Lincoln, 102. The rest
were scattering. On the second ballot Seward received 184-1/2, and
Lincoln, 181. Seward was still ahead, but Lincoln had made by far the
greater gain. On the third ballot Seward received 180, and Lincoln 231-
1/2. But this ballot was not announced. The delegates kept tally during
the progress of the vote. When it became evident that Lincoln was about
elected, while the feeling of expectancy was at the highest degree of
tension, an Ohio delegate mounted his chair and announced a change of
four Ohio votes from Chase to Lincoln. There was instantly a break. On
every side delegates announced a change of vote to Lincoln. The result
was evident to every one, and after a moment's pause, the crowd went
mad with joy. One spectator has recorded the event:
"The scene which followed baffles all human description. After an
instant's silence, which seemed to be required to enable the assembly
to take in the full force of the announcement, the wildest and
mightiest yell (for it can be called by no other name) burst forth from
ten thousand voices which were ever heard from mortal throats. This
strange and tremendous demonstration, accompanied with leaping up and
down, tossing hats, handkerchiefs, and canes recklessly into the air,
with the waving of flags, and with every other conceivable mode of
exultant and unbridled joy, continued steadily and without pause for
perhaps ten minutes."
"It then began to rise and fall in slow and billowing bursts, and for
perhaps the next five minutes, these stupendous waves of uncontrollable
excitement, now rising into the deepest and fiercest shouts, and then
sinking, like the ground swell of the ocean, into hoarse and lessening
murmurs, rolled through the multitude. Every now and then it would seem
as though the physical power of the assembly was exhausted, when all at
once a new hurricane would break out, more prolonged and terrific than
anything before. If sheer exhaustion had not prevented, we don't know
but the applause would have continued to this hour."
During all this time Lincoln remained at Springfield, where he was in
telegraphic communication with his friends at Chicago, though not by
private wire. At the time of his nomination he had gone from his office
to that of the Sangamon Journal. A messenger boy came rushing up
to him, carrying a telegram and exclaiming, "You are nominated." The
friends who were present joyously shook his hands and uttered their
eager congratulations. Lincoln thanked them for their good wishes, and
said "There is a little woman on Eighth Street who will be glad to hear
this, and I guess I'll go up and carry her the news." Pocketing the
telegram he walked home.
At the wigwam, the news spread quickly. A man had been stationed on the
roof as picket. He shouted, "Hallelujah! Abe Lincoln is nominated. Fire
the cannon!" The frenzy of joy spread to the immense throng of citizens
outside the wigwam, then through the city, then through the state, then
through the neighboring states. At Washington that night some one
asked, "Who is this man Lincoln, anyhow?" Douglas replied, "There won't
be a tar barrel left in Illinois' tonight." With unprecedented
enthusiasm the republican party started on this campaign which led to
its first victory in the election of Abraham Lincoln of Illinois, and
Hannibal Hamlin of Maine.
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