very little feeling on the subject," telegraphed Charleston, South Carolina. "They are content to leave Mr. Lincoln and the inaugural in the hands of Jefferson Davis and the Congress of the Confederate States."

"The Pennsylvanian" declared it "a tiger's claw concealed under the fur of Sewardism." While "The Atlas and Argus," of Albany, characterized it as "weak, rambling, loose-jointed," and as "inviting civil war."

From Charleston, South Carolina, came the dispatch, "Our community has not been disappointed, and exhibited very little feeling on the subject. They are content to leave Mr. Lincoln and the inaugural in the hands of Jefferson Davis and the Congress of the Confederate States." In New Orleans the assertion that the ordinance was void and that Federal property must be taken and held was considered a declaration of war. At Montgomery the head of the Confederacy, the universal feeling provoked by the inaugural was that war was inevitable.

The literary form of the document aroused general com

ment.

"The style of the address is as characteristic as its temper," said the Boston "Transcript." "It has not one fawning expression in the whole course of its firm and explicit statements. The language is level to the popular mind-the plain, homespun language of a man accustomed to talk with * the folks' and 'the neighbors;' the language of a man of vital common-sense, whose words exactly fit in his facts and thoughts."

This "homespun language" was a shock to many. The Toronto "Globe" found the address of "a tawdry, corrupt, school-boy style." And ex-President Tyler complained to Francis Lieber of its grammar. Lieber replied:

"You complain of the bad grammar of President Lincoln's message. We have to look at other things, just now,

than grammar. For aught I know, the last resolution of the South Carolina Convention may have been worded in sufficiently good grammar, but it is an attempt, unique in its disgracefulness, to whitewash an act of the dirtiest infamy. Let us leave grammar alone in these days of shame, and rather ask whether people act according to the first and simplest rules of morals and of honor."

The question which most deeply stirred the country, however, was "Does Lincoln mean what he says? Will he really use the power confided to him to hold, occupy, and possess the property and places belonging to the government?" The President was called upon for an answer sooner than he had expected. Almost the first thing brought to his attention on the morning of his first full day in office (March 5) was a letter from Major Robert Anderson, the officer in command of Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor, saying that he had but a week's provisions, and that if the place was to be re-enforced so that it could be held, it would take 20,000 "good and well-disciplined men " to do it.

A graver matter the new President could not have been called upon to decide, for all the issues between North and South were at that moment focused in the fate of Fort Sumter. A series of dramatic incidents had given the fort this peculiar prominence. At the time of Mr. Lincoln's election Charleston Harbor was commanded by Major Anderson. Although there were three forts in the harbor, but one was garrisoned, Fort Moultrie, and that not the strongest in position. Not long after the election Anderson, himself a Southerner, thoroughly familiar with the feeling in Charleston, wrote the War Department that if the harbor was to be held by the United States, Fort Sumter and Castle Pinckey must be garrisoned. Later he repeated this warning. President Buchanan was loath to heed him. He feared irritating the South Carolinians. Instead of re-enforcements he sent An

derson orders to hold the forts but to do nothing which would cause a collision. At the same time he entered into a half-contract with the South Carolina Congressmen not to re-enforce Anderson if the State did not attack him. All through the early winter Anderson remained in Moultrie, his position constantly becoming more dangerous. Interest in him increased with his peril, and the discussion as to whether the government should relieve, recall, or let him alone, waxed more and more excited.

Anderson had seen from the first that if the South Carolinians attempted to seize Moultrie he could not sustain his position. Accordingly, on the night of December 26 he spiked the guns of that fort and secretly transferred his force to Sumter, an almost impregnable position in the centre of the harbor. In the South the uproar over this act was terrific. The administration was accused of treachery. It in turn censured Anderson, though he had acted exactly within his orders which gave him the right to occupy whichever fort he thought best. In the North there was an outburst of exultation. It was the first act in defense of United States property, and Anderson became at once a popular hero and reenforcements for him were vehemently demanded.

Early in January Buchanan yielded to the pressure and sent the Star of the West with supplies. The vessel was fired on by the South Carolinians as she entered the harbor, and retired. This hostile act did not quicken the sluggish blood of the administration. Indeed, a quasi-agreement with the Governor followed, that if the fort was not attacked no further attempt would be made to re-enforce it, and there the matter stood when Mr. Lincoln on the morning of March 5 received Anderson's letter.

What was to be done? The garrison must not be allowed to starve; but evidently 20,000 disciplined men could not be had to relieve it-the whole United States army numbered

but 16,000. But if Mr. Lincoln could not relieve it, how could he surrender it? The effect of any weakening or compromise in his own position was perfectly clear to him. "When Anderson goes out of Fort Sumter," he said ruefully, "I shall have to go out of the White House." The exact way in which he looked at the matter he stated later to Congress, in substantially the following words:

To abandon that position, under the circumstances, would have been utterly ruinous; the necessity under which it was done would not have been fully understood; by many it would have been construed as a part of a voluntary policy; at home it would have discouraged the friends of the Union, emboldened its adversaries, and gone far to insure to the latter a recognition abroad; in fact, it would have been our national destruction consummated. This could not be allowed.

In his dilemma he sought the advice of the Commanderin-Chief of the Army, General Scott, who told him sadly that "evacuation seemed almost inevitable."

Unwilling to decide at once, Lincoln devised a manœuvre by which he hoped to shift public attention from Fort Sumter to Fort Pickens, in Pensacola Harbor. The situation of the two forts was similar, although that at Sumter was more critical and interested the public far more intensely. It seemed to Mr. Lincoln that if Fort Pickens could be re-enforced, this would be a clear enough indication to both sections that he meant what he had said in his inaugural address, and after it had been accomplished the North would accept the evacuation of Fort Sumter as a military necessity, and on March II he sent an order that troops which had been sent to Pensacola in January by Mr. Buchanan, but never landed, should be placed in Fort Pickens.

As this order went by sea, it was necessarily some time before it arrived. Night and day during this interval Lin

coln was busy in a series of original investigations of all sides of the Sumter question. While doing his utmost to obtain such information as would enable him to come to an intelligent conclusion, he was beset by both North and South. A report went out early in the month that Sumter was to be evacuated. It could not be verified; but it spread generally until there was, particularly in Washington, around Mr. Lincoln, a fever of excitement. Finally, on March 25, the Senate asked for the correspondence of Anderson. The President did not believe the time had come, however, to take the public into his confidence, and he replied:

On examination of the correspondence thus called for, I have, with the highest respect for the Senate, come to the conclusion that at the present moment the publication of it would be inexpedient.

Three days later, March 28, while he still was uncertain whether his order had reached Fort Pickens or not, General Scott, who was ill, sent a letter over to the White House, advising Mr. Lincoln to abandon both Sumter and Pickens. Coming from such a source, the letter was a heavy blow to the President. One of the men he most trusted had failed to recognize that the policy he had laid down in his inaugural address was serious and intended to be acted upon. It was time to do something. Summoning an officer from the Navy Department, he asked him to prepare at once a plan for a relief expedition to Fort Sumter. That night Mr. Lincoln gave his first state dinner. It was a large affair, many friends besides the members of the Cabinet being present. The conversation was animated, and Lincoln was seemingly in excellent spirits. W. H. Russell, the correspondent of the London "Times," was present, and he notes in his Diary how Lincoln used anecdotes in his conversation that evening: