^^^i-t-:^Mm'-& ^i!iMmSSS^S^:'fv*?:'t:.^.:. t,*, \,.xv^ Z*^': %..<^* :is»i% '^^..^^ :^^; \.J^^ y;^MK> X,'^" ;^\ X/ sfi^ * ^0^ so* %.^^" \/ "o^'^^-/ \*^'^\/ %'^^-/ \'^"^\/ *^ .•••♦ * .»••. ■^^ i*' . * <(> <» *'T: \/ ^°-n*-^ 4 Oy. bV 1* . « • 1 % f ... 'V-'---' ^0 ... V •••'• .^*''... V w- ':r^>> .^■'^•^i'^ ^°^:^B.'> .-^-^^-^^rX ^°^'>^' °- / •^;:X <^' - . , - .0 V» • ' ■• .'i>'\ '^^ ^r*. •^'^IS*.* ^ -^f. -.V^^/ , *^ vV^^ •^^0* ^°^ « v^ ..i:^^'* 'ci '' . . • ,v->-. ^^..^^ /Jfe\ XJ" :M£:^ %.A^ /Jfe\ \../ yMA'^ XJ" :& -f^" ^v VV osi- tion on the slave question required an explana- tion among his constituents and brought him home to Illinois in 1854 to defend his position. During these years when Douglas was so prominent in public life, Lincoln had followed his progress with unllagging interest and he had followed, too, every move in the rising tide against slavery. And in Lincoln's mental make- up there was no room for compromise. No mat- ter what his personal ambitions, to the exten- sion of slave territory he was unalterably op- posed. Douglas, seeking large gatherings of peoith", learned that the State Fair was to be held at Springfield, and on the opening daj' presented himself and made a speech to an audience tliat crowded the liall of the State House. During the early part of his address he said: "I under- stand there is to l)e a rejily to this address, and that Mr. Lincoln, of this city, is to answer me. If this is true, I wish Mr. Lincoln would stand forth." Lincoln was not in the audience at the time, as Douglas probably well knew. But the next day, at the same place, and with an ei[ually large audience, Lincoln was present, and when the challenge was repeated, Lincoln stood forth and at that moment emerged into public life, never again to return to obscurity. For following the siieeeh of Douglas, he mounted the platform and spoke for three hours, deliver- ing what many believe to be the greatest speech of his life. A few days later Douglas went to Blooming- ton and Lincoln followed and answered him there. And still a few days later when Douglas ajipeared at Peoria, Lincoln answered him there. It was after the Peoria meeting that Douglas went to Lincoln and said to his antagonist: "Lincoln, you un(h>rstand this (|uestinn of )iro- iiibiting slavery in the Territories better than all the opposition in the Senate of the United States. I cannot m:ike anything by dcliating it with you." And with tliis i)lea lie begged Lincoln to de- sist. To tliis truce T/mcohi agreed ami l)oth abandoned the held and returned to their homes. Lincoln's first skinnish with Douglas had been won and JJncoln liad made himself the logical and unanimous choice of the Kcpiiblicans as candidate for Senator foui- years later. So now it was 1858 and Douglas was again back in Illinois, this time not merely to defend his policies, but as the Democratic candidate to l>lead for his re-election to the Senate. And now i^incoln and Douglas for the (irst i,ime were matched in a contest for the same high oflice. It was in this campaign that I he great series of Lincoln-Douglas debates were arranged and carried out. Neither before nor since has there ever been anything like them in American his- tory' — two intellectual giants, jiroceeding from city to city, discussing in public forum the vital, burning issue of the time. But there was a marked diilerence in the manner of the two nu'u. Douglas was si)eaking directly to his audiences. Lincoln was speaking not only to the people before him Imt also over and beyond them to the people of America. Some of Lincoln's friends were alarmed at his tactics and warned him that if he were not more careful Douglas would win. "Perhaps he will," Lincoln answered, "but the battle of 1800 is worth a hundred of this." And he continued liis attacks, repeatedly asking Douglas search- ing (juestions and forcing him to take in his answers comjn'omising positions that he as persistently sought to avoid. Aiul in this was the foresight of Lincoln revealed. For while Douglas won the election, ho won it on a basis that cost him the support of the South iu the in- finitely greater political crisis two years later. The debates with Douglas liad made Lincoln the outstanding Kei)ublican of Illinois. lie was still comparatively unknown in the East. But February, 18G0, was to witness an event of mighty signiiicance in Lincoln's political career. Lincoln's son, Rolicrt, was in school in Ver- mont and when there came from Brooklyn an offer of $L'On to sjieak on a lyceum program in a lirooklyii cliurch, Lincoln immediately accep- ted because the $'J00 would enable Jiim to visit his boy at school. After arrangements hail been made, however, the Brooklyn peojtle began to doubt whether this little known lawyer from the West could draw a $J(IO house, so they turned liim over to a political club that was conducting in Cooper Union a series of lectures on the slave <|ueslion. I think no liner story lias ever been told of this Cooper Union speech than that n'latrd by Dr. Russell H. Conwell. He was teacliiug school iu New Hampshire, where he had been a neigli- bor of William Cullen Bryaut. But iu Feb- ruary, 1860, he was iu New York goiug about to churches and to political meetings to hear the great orators of the time. Bryaut was to be chairman of the Cooper Union meeting and he invited Oonwell and a young friend to come. As they approached the hall that evening, they found a crowd of disturbers outside and they were stopped and questioned. "Are you nigger-men?" asked one of Conwell. "And," says Conwell, "we thought he was asking us if we were negroes and we answered 'No,' and with that he gave us some dried onions, saying, 'Put these uuder your coats and when you hear five whistles, throw 'em at the feller speakin'.' So we took the onions and went in." Inside there was a crowd, a great, restless crowd. And on the platform was a strange con- trast of figures. There was William Cullen Bryant, the Chairman, fine looking, venerable in his years, charming of manner, perfectly at ease. And over at one side sat the speaker of the evening. His feet were tangled iu the rungs of his chair, his eyes were downcast, beside him on the floor stood his beaver hat, and in it might be seen the manuscript of his speech. Finally he arose. One leg of his trousers had caught on the back of his shoe. He had run his fingers through his hair and left a lock standing straight up behind. He had forgotten to remove the pencil over his right ear. Holding his manuscript in trembling hands, he began to read it in a harsh, unpleasant voice. The audience, already uneasy, grew in restless- ness. There were even hisses from one coi"ner of the room. As the minutes dragged on, the suspense became intolerable — they were min- utes of agony. Finally, in turning the pages of his paper with shaking hands, a sheet dropped unseen to the floor. A moment later he had reached that point in his reading, he saw that something was missing, and he stood there, embarrassed, a piti- ful figure. Then suddenly, in desperation, he cast tlie manuscript aside, and throwing out a long arm, looked full into the faces of his audi- ence and laimched himself into an indictment of slavery. The audience grew still, then atten- tive, then absorbed. The change was magical. It was as if some unseen influence was making itself felt. And when the speaker had finished. the whole audience was on its feet in wild ap- plause. The East now knew Lincoln. That was the 17th of February, 18G0. Three months later Lincoln was nominated at Chicago as the Republican candidate for President. The Democrats, split into two factions on the slave question, put forth two candidates — the South- ern wing, Breckinridge, the northern wing, Stephen A. Douglas. So now again Lincoln and Douglas were contenders, this time for the supreme goal. And Lincoln's victory at last had come. On March 4, 18G1, a vast crowd had assem- bled before the East Portico of the Capitol, for a President was about to be inaugurated. On the platform a group of the nation's greatest men waited his coming. Finally Lincoln stepped forth. He wore a new suit of clothes, and there had been few enough new suits in Lincoln's life. But to add to the awkwardness of the situation, he carried a new high silk hat and a gold- headed cane, and he had not the slightest idea what to do with them. After an embarrassed pause, he stood the cane in a corner. But he could find no place for the hat and he stood there holding it. And then, while the eyes of the multitude looked on, Douglas stepped forward, took the hat from his hand, and held it while Lincoln took the oath of office and delivered his inaugural address. Thus in such simple form came the dramatic climax to their last, long race. While one was crowned with the highest honors to which their conflicting ambitions had aspired, the other humbly held the victor's hat. During the early months of Lincoln 's admin- istration, he had no critic more bitter than Edwin M. Stanton. Stanton, a Democrat, had been Attorney General in the Buchanan cabinet and there had demonstrated his tremendous ability, virtuallj' holding the crumbling Bu- chanan administration together as it drew to a close. But he looked upon Lincoln's rise to the Presidency as a national disaster. Not only Lincoln's policy, but his personal appearance was a target for Stanton's invectives. He habit- ually referred to Lincoln as the "original gor- illa" and said that "Du Chaillu was a fool to wander all over Africa in search of what he could so easily have found in Springfield, Illi- nois." After the battle of Bull Run, Stanton wi'ote to Buchanan: "The imbecilitv of this adminis- tnitiou c-ulminated in that eatastroplu'; aud irrftrii'val>k' misfortune and national disgrace, never to l)e for,i,'otten, are to lie added to tlie rnin of all iieaeel'ul pursuits and national hank- ru|)tey, as the result of Lincoln's 'ruiininj? the machine,' for live months. . . It is not unlikely that .-ome change in the War and Navy Depart ments may take place, but none beyond those Iwo departments until JelT Davis turns out the whole concern." Yet in January, 186'2, nine months after Lin- coln's inauguration, Stanton was invited to Iieconie a member of hi.s cabinet. Simon Cam- eron, Secretary of War, had been iuie(|ual to the t;i-k. A strong man was needed, and Lincoln, sei'king only ability and willing to overlook i)er- sonalities. saw in Stanton the (|ualities required for the War Department's tremendous respon- sibility. Stanton accepted with supreme confidence in himself and no lessening of his contempt for Lincoln. He looked upon the call to duty solely ;.s a personal obligation to save the country. Uut upon the tiisk before him he centered all his great talents and energies. It is doubtful whether any act of Lincoln's caused more amazement among Republicans tlian his selection of Stanton for the War Office. His friends warned him that Stanton would give him no end of trouble, that he would run away with the whole concern. But Lincoln showed no signs of alarm. "We may have to treat him," said he, "as they are sometimes obliged to treat a Methodist minister I know of out West. He gets wrought up to so high a pitch of excitement in his prayers and exhortations, that they are obliged to jiut bricks into his pockets to keep him down. We may be obliged to serve Stanton the same wav, but I guess we'll let him jump awhile lirst." Lincoln's constant attitude toward Stanton was one of patience and toleration. He seemed willing to make any sacrifice of pride, if only Stanton's great energies might be ceaselessly applied to tiie prosecution of tlie war. One day, Owen Lovejoy, heading a delega- tion of Western men, came down to Washington to urge upon the President that the mingling of Western and Kastern lrooi>s would promote tlie spirit of national unity, jjinculn Ihoughl well of the i)lan and wrote a note to Stanton sugges- ting a transfer of certain regim»'nts. When the committee presented it to Stanton be said it was impracticable and refused to carry it out. "If Lincoln gave that order," said Stanton, "he is a danm fool." Returning to the White House, Lovejoy gave Linculn an e.\act report of the conversation. "Did Stanton really say I was a damn fool f" asked Lincoln. "He did," answered Lovejoy. "Then," said Lincoln, "1 must be one, for Stanton is nearly always right." No one knew and understood better than Lin- coln the great problems with which his War Secretary had to contend, and no one was more appreciative of his labors, more ready to sustain him in his struggles to maintain the eti'ective- ness of the army. "Stanton is the rock upon which are beating the waves of this confliet," he said to some who came complaining of the Secretary's refusal to make an army appointment that they desired. "He fights back tlie angry waters and prevents them from undermining aud overwhelming the land. I do not see how he survives — why he is not crushed and toni to pieces. Without him I should be destroyed." Joseph Medill, publisher of the Chicago Trib- une during the war, told a story of how at a most critical period of the war, a new draft was levied and the city of Chicago, which already had furnished 20,000 men, w^as asked to send 6,000 more. There was a great mass meeting to protest, and Medill headed a delegation that went down to Washington to urge upon the President a reduction in Chicago's allotment. Lincoln said to them, "Come. I will go over with you to Stanton and you can present j'our case and we will see what he has to say." AVhen they had made their plea, Stanton shook his head. "No," he said, "we must have the men." Then Lincoln, who all this while had been sitting silent, tipped back in a chair, stood up, and there was a cloud almost of anger on his face. "Gentlemen," he said, "you ought to be ashanu'd of yourselves. No sections of the North did .so much to bring on tliis war as New Eng- land and the Northwest. You in Chicago were calling for it and you got it. And you, Medill, with your Chicago Ti-ibune and all its influence, vdu wei'c aiiioiig those who wanted if most. H< Now, when I am trying to carry it through to a successful conclusion and call for more troops to do it, you bog for mercy. Go back to Chicago and raise those men!" "We went out of that presence," said Medill, "thorouglily asJianied of our mission, and we went back to Chicago and raised the 6,000 men. " It was the heroic meeting of such crises as this that broke down Stanton's antagonism to- ward Lincoln. Gradually, he came to know the real Lincoln, and as the months went by, con- temi)t vanished, respect replaced it, and at last a real affection. But the burden Stanton carried wore down even his rugged health and when, early in 1865, Lee's surrender seemed imminent, Stanton handed the President his resignation and asked to be permitted to retire. But Lincoln, in a burst of emotion, threw his arms about the other, and said, "Stanton, you have been a good friend and a faithful servant. It is not for you to say how long the country needs you." So Stanton remained at his post, and so it happened that on that morning after the fatal shot was fired in Ford's Theatre, it was Stanton who sat just outside the door of the room in which Lincoln lay, courageously meeting the emergency, directing all. He issued orders for the protection of others high in the administra- tion, he maintained constant touch with Grant, then hurrying by special train toward Washing- ton, and there within sound of the moaning of the dying President he dictated what is still the best brief account of the awful night's work. And when at twenty minutes past seven, Abraham Lincoln died, and there was a prayer and a solemn pause, it was Stanton's voice that broke the stillness with the words: "Now he belongs to the ages." Lloyd George says, "Lincoln was one of those few great men who lost their nationalitv in death." John Drinkwater, building his great drama out of Lincoln's life, considered him one of the immortals. \'iewing his greatness from afar, he wrote his play of Lincoln, looking upon him as one of the greatest characters the world has ever known. And when two years later, he made his first visit to America and went out to Spring-field, he could scarcely realize that one so great had lived so close to our own time, that here were people still living who had seen him and known him and looked into his face. And it was in something of this same spirit that the other day in Washington, I thought of it as Lincoln's Washington. Here was the White House where he lived and worked— here were the windows out of which he looked across the broad, sloping lawns. Here were the very streets where he watched the marching troops. Here was the Capitol and the East Portico where he and Douglas stood that day in March of '61, and where he stood again and delivered the never- to-be-forgotten second inaugural. And here was the little house in Tenth Street where they ear- ned him through the narrow doorway and up the stairs — to die. And down by the Potomac was the magnifi- cent Lincoln Memorial, the shrine to which men come from the ends of the earth to pay tribute to his memory. Yet that is not the real Lincoln shrine. For that mountainous figure, rising out of a humble cabin in Hodgenville, Kentucky, stands today in majestic splendor, so that the rising and the set- ting sun cast West and East across the land the shadow of its influence into all our lives and set up a Lincoln shrine in the heart of every American. WITH ABIDING FAITH IN THE PRINCIPLES OF KIWANIS AND WITH LOVE AND ESTEEM FOR THE AUTHOR, THIS LITTLE BROCHURE IS MADE. ROBERT E. rRENDERCAST •^.. .& .>Vv, "^.tr ,<^ '*f^2IC>^'- U ^^'^ ,v 1^ ••>^- -V^ :. 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