Not a very elevated sentiment--but English.
Some of their statesmen declared that the subjugation of the South by the North would be a calamity to the world.
Louis Napoleon was another enemy, and he endeavored to establish a monarchy in Mexico, to the end that the great North might be destroyed.
But the patience, the uncommon common sense, the statesmanship of Lincoln--in spite of foreign hate and Northern division--triumphed over all. And now we forgive all foes. Victory makes forgiveness easy.
Lincoln was by nature a diplomat. He knew the art of sailing against the wind. He had as much shrewdness as is consistent with honesty. He understood, not only the rights of individuals, but of nations. In all his correspondence with other governments he neither wrote nor sanctioned a line which afterward was used to tie his hands. In the use of perfect English he easily rose above all his advisers and all his fellows.
No one claims that Lincoln did all. He could have done nothing without the generals in the field, and the generals could have done nothing without their armies. The praise is due to all--to the private as much as to the officer; to the lowest who did his duty, as much as to the highest.
My heart goes out to the brave private as much as to the leader of the host.
But Lincoln stood at the centre and with infinite patience, with consummate skill, with the genius of goodness, directed, cheered, consoled and conquered.
VII.
SLAVERY was the cause of the war, and slavery was the perpetual stumbling-block. As the war went on, question after question arose--questions that could not be answered by theories. Should we hand back the slave to his master, when the master was using his slave to destroy the Union? If the South was right, slaves were property, and by the laws of war anything that might be used to the advantage of the enemy might be confiscated by us. Events did not wait for discussion.
General Butler denominated the negro as "a contraband." Congress provided that the property of the rebels might be confiscated.
The extreme Democrats of the North regarded the slave as more sacred than life. It was no harm to kill the master--to burn his house, to ravage his fields--but you must not free his slave. If in war a nation has the right to take the property of its citizens--of its friends--certainly it has the right to take the property of those it has the right to kill.
Lincoln was wise enough to know that war is governed by the laws of war, and that during the conflict constitutions are silent. All that he could do he did in the interests of peace. He offered to execute every law--including the most infamous of all--to buy the slaves in the border States--to establish gradual, compensated emancipation; but the South would not hear. Then he confiscated the property of rebels--treated the slaves as contraband of war, used them to put down the Rebellion, armed them and clothed them in the uniform of the Republic--was in favor of making them citizens and allowing them to stand on an equality with their white brethren under the flag of the Nation. During these years Lincoln moved with events, and every step he took has been justified by the considerate judgment of mankind.
VIII.
LINCOLN not only watched the war, but kept his hand on the political pulse. In 1863 a tide set in against the administration. A Republican meeting was to be held in Springfield, Illinois, and Lincoln wrote a letter to be read at this convention. It was in his happiest vein. It was a perfect defence of his administration, including the Proclamation of Emancipation. Among other things he said:
"But the proclamation, as law, either is valid or it is not valid. If it is not valid it needs no retraction, but if it is valid it cannot be retracted, any more than the dead can be brought to life."
To the Northern Democrats who said they would not fight for negroes, Lincoln replied:
"Some of them seem willing to fight for you--but no matter."
Of negro soldiers:
"But negroes, like other people, act upon motives. Why should they do anything for us if we will do nothing for them? If they stake their lives for us they must be prompted by the strongest motive--even the promise of freedom. And the promise, being made, must be kept."
There is one line in this letter that will give it immortality:
"The Father of waters again goes unvexed to the sea."
This line is worthy of Shakespeare.
Another:
"Among free men there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet."
He draws a comparison between the white men against us and the black men for us:
"And then 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 strove to hinder it."
Under the influence of this letter, the love of country, of the Union, and above all, the love of liberty, took possession of the heroic North.
There was the greatest moral exaltation ever known.
The spirit of liberty took possession of the people. The masses became sublime.
To fight for yourself is natural--to fight for others is grand; to fight for your country is noble--to fight for the human race--for the liberty of hand and brain--is nobler still.
As a matter of fact, the defenders of slavery had sown the seeds of their own defeat. They dug the pit in which they fell. Clay and Webster and thousands of others had by their eloquence made the Union almost sacred. The Union was the very tree of life, the source and stream and sea of liberty and law.
For the sake of slavery millions stood by the Union, for the sake of liberty millions knelt at the altar of the Union; and this love of the Union is what, at last, overwhelmed the Confederate hosts.
It does not seem possible that only a few years ago our Constitution, our laws, our Courts, the Pulpit and the Press defended and upheld the institution of slavery--that it was a crime to feed the hungry--to give water to the lips of thirst--shelter to a woman flying from the whip and chain!
The old flag still flies--the stars are there--the stains have gone.
IX.
LINCOLN always saw the end. He was unmoved by the storms and currents of the times. He advanced too rapidly for the conservative politicians, too slowly for the radical enthusiasts. He occupied the line of safety, and held by his personality--by the force of his great character, by his charming candor--the masses on his side.
The soldiers thought of him as a father.
All who had lost their sons in battle felt that they had his sympathy--felt that his face was as sad as theirs. They knew that Lincoln was actuated by one motive, and that his energies were bent to the attainment of one end--the salvation of the Republic.
They knew that he was kind, sincere and merciful. They knew that in his veins there was no drop of tyrants' blood. They knew that he used his power to protect the innocent, to save reputation and life--that he had the brain of a philosopher--the heart of a mother.
During all the years of war, Lincoln stood the embodiment of mercy, between discipline and death. He pitied the imprisoned and condemned.
He took the unfortunate in his arms, and was the friend even of the convict. He knew temptation's strength--the weakness of the will--and how in fury's sudden flame the judgment drops the scales, and passion--blind and deaf--usurps the throne.
One day a woman, accompanied by a Senator, called on the President. The woman was the wife of one of Mosby's men. Her husband had been captured, tried and condemned to be shot. She came to ask for the pardon of her husband. The President heard her story and then asked what kind of man her husband was. "Is he intemperate, does he abuse the children and beat you?" "No, no," said the wife, "he is a good man, a good husband, he loves me and he loves the children, and we cannot live without him. The only trouble is that he is a fool about politics--I live in the North, born there, and if I get him home, he will do no more fighting for the South." "Well," said Mr. Lincoln, after examining the papers, "I will pardon your husband and turn him over to you for safe keeping." The poor woman, overcome with joy, sobbed as though her heart would break.
"My dear woman," said Lincoln, "if I had known how badly it was going to make you feel, I never would have pardoned him." "You do not understand me," she cried between her sobs. "You do not understand me." "Yes, yes, I do," answered the President, "and if you do not go away at once I shall be crying with you."
On another occasion, a member of Congress, on his way to see Lincoln, found in one of the anterooms of the White House an old white-haired man, sobbing--his wrinkled face wet with tears. The old man told him that for several days he had tried to see the President--that he wanted a pardon for his son. The Congressman told the old man to come with him and he would introduce him to Mr. Lincoln. On being introduced, the old man said: "Mr. Lincoln, my wife sent me to you. We had three boys. They all joined your army. One of 'em has been killed, one's a fighting now, and one of 'em, the youngest, has been tried for deserting and he's going to be shot day after to-morrow. He never deserted. He's wild, and he may have drunk too much and wandered off, but he never deserted.
'Taint in the blood. He's his mother's favorite, and if he's shot, I know she'll die." The President, turning to his secretary, said: "Telegraph General Butler to suspend the execution in the case of--------[giving the name] until further orders from me, and ask him to answer--------."
The Congressman congratulated the old man on his success--but the old man did not respond. He was not satisfied. "Mr. President," he began, "I can't take that news home. It won't satisfy his mother. How do I know but what you'll give further orders to-morrow?" "My good man," said Mr. Lincoln, "I have to do the best I can. The generals are complaining because I pardon so many. They say that my mercy destroys discipline.
Now, when you get home you tell his mother what you said to me about my giving further orders, and then you tell her that I said this: 'If your son lives until they get further orders from me, that when he does die people will say that old Methusaleh was a baby compared to him.'"
The pardoning power is the only remnant of absolute sovereignty that a President has. Through all the years, Lincoln will be known as Lincoln the loving, Lincoln the merciful.
X.
LINCOLN had the keenest sense of humor, and always saw the laughable side even of disaster. In his humor there was logic and the best of sense. No matter how complicated the question, or how embarrassing the situation, his humor furnished an answer and a door of escape.
Vallandigham was a friend of the South, and did what he could to sow the seeds of failure. In his opinion everything, except rebellion, was unconstitutional.
He was arrested, convicted by a court martial, and sentenced to imprisonment.