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CHAPTER XXVI

SECOND PRESIDENTIAL TERM.

SECOND time Abraham Lincoln stands upon the portico of the Capitol to take the oath of office as President of the Republic, Far different the outlook from that of the first inauguration. Then, uncertainty, darkness, gloom; now, the dawn of a brighter day, the

rising sun of a new era. Then, an unfinished edifice; now, the March 4 statue of Liberty crowning the world's most beautiful halls of 1565. legislation. Then, war about to begin; now, the prospect of

its end. Then, 4,000,000 bondmen; now, slavery abolished. The nation then as helpless as a child; now a giant, astonishing the world by the majesty of its power.

In the month of August preceding the November election the Peace Democracy, seemingly, were about to take possession of the Government. Mr. Lincoln had doubted his re-election, but the people indorsød his administration by giving him 212 electoral votes, against 21 for McClellan. None in the Presidential office ever had greater cause for elation, but those nearest Mr. Lincoln noticed a growing sense of responsibility, and a consciousness that he was an agent of divino Prov idence to promote the well-being of his fellow-men. It is manifest in his reply to the Committee of Congress apprising him officially of his re-election.

"With deep gratitude," said Mr. Lincoln, "to my countrymen for this mark of their confidence; with a distrust of my own ability to pers form the duty required under the most favorable circumstances, and now rendered doubly difficult by exciting national perils; yet with a firm reliance on the strength of our free government and the eventual loyalty of the people to just principles upon which it is founded, and, above all, with an unbroken faith in the Supreme Ruler of Nations, I accept this trust."

Never had any nation or people heard such words as were uttered by Mr. Lincoln as he stood upon the portico of the Capitol before tak ing the oath of office for a second term:

“FELLOW-COUNTRYMEN,—At this second appearing to take the oath of the Presidential office, there is less occasion for an extended address than there was at the first. Then, a statement, somewhat in detail, of a course to be pursued, seemed fitting and proper. Now, at the expiration of four years, during which public declarations have been constantly called forth on every point and phase of the great contest which still absorbs the attention and engrosses the energies of the nation, little that is new could be presented. The progress of our arms, upon which all else chiefly depends, is as well known to the public as to myself; and it is, I trust, reasonably satisfactory and encouraging to all. With high hope for the future, no prediction in regard to it is ventured.

"On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago, all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil war. All dreaded it-all sought to avert it. While the inaugural address was being delivered from this place, devoted altogether to saving the Union without war, insurgent agents were in the city seeking to destroy it without war-seeking to dissolve the Union, and divide effects, by negotiation. Both parties deprecated war; but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive; and the other would accept war rather than let it perish. And the war

came.

"One-eighth of the whole population were colored slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but localized in the southern part of it. These slaves constituted a peculiar and powerful interest. All knew that this interest was, somehow, the cause of the war. To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union, even by war; while the Government claimed no right to do more than to restrict the territorial enlargement of it. Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with, or even before, the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces; but let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered-that of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes. Woe unto the world because of offences! for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh.' If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of those offences which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and South this terrible war, as the woe due to those by whom the offence came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to Him? 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 towards none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan-to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and a lasting peace among ourselves, and with all nations."

The address has no parallel in political literature. To the great audience listening in breathless attention it was like a transcription of a portion of the Sermon on the Mount. From the hour when Lucy Gilman Speed talked with Mr. Lincoln about eternal truths, there had been within him a growing recognition of divine Providence in human affairs. It appears in many of his State papers and private letters.

"Every one likes a compliment," he wrote to Mr. Weed. "Thank you for yours, and on my little notification speech and on the recent inaugural address. I expect the latter to wear as well, or perhaps better, than anything I have produced, but I believe it is not immediately popular. Men are not flattered by being shown there is a difference of purpose between the Almighty and themselves. To deny it, however, in this case is to deny there is a God governing the world. It is a truth which I thought needed to be told, and as to whatever of humiliation there is in it falls most directly on myself, I thought others might afford for me to tell it."(')

The great drama was about to close. The army under Sherman was in North Carolina. Union troops were in Charleston and Wilmington. Sheridan with the cavalry was on his way from the Shenandoah to Petersburg. A few more weeks, and the final blow would be given.

General Grant, desiring to have an interview with the President, invited him to visit City Point. The invitation was accepted. He was accompanied by Mrs. Lincoln and "Tad," on the steamer River Mar. 22. Queen, protected by a small gunboat. Upon the President's arrival General Grant and the members of his staff went on board the steamer to pay their respects to their commander-in-chief. They were cordially received.

"I am not feeling very well," said the President. "I got pretty well shaken up on the bay coming down, and am not altogether over it." (3)

"Let me send," said a staff-officer, "for a bottle of champagne for you, Mr. President; that is the best remedy I know of for sea-sickness." "No, no, my young friend; I have seen many a man in my time sea-sick ashore from drinking that very article," the President replied.

In the evening a pitch-pine camp-fire was kindled at the military headquarters. It was a pleasure to the President to sit before it, assuming any attitude he pleased. He was regardless of etiquette. With his legs at full length or doubled up, the bright flames illuming his countenance, he gave free play to fancy, and entertained General Grant and his staff with anecdote and story. He listened with interest to

what others said. He inquired in regard to new inventions relating to military art.

"I have here," said General Horace Porter, member of the staff, "a specimen of the new powder for the fifteen-inch guns at Fortress MonThe kernel is nearly as large as a walnut.”

roe.

“Well,” the President replied, "that is a little larger than the powder I used in my shooting days. It reminds me of what once occurred in a country meeting-house in Sangamon County. You see, there were very few newspapers then, and the country store-keepers had to resort to some other means of advertising their wares. If, for instance, the preacher happened to be late in coming to a prayer-meeting of an evening, the shopkeeper would often put in the time while the people were waiting by notifying them of any new arrival of an attractive line of goods. One evening a man said: 'Brethren, let me take occasion to say, while w're a-wa'tin', that I have just received a new inv'ice of sportin' powder. The grains is so small you kin scarcely see 'em with the naked eye. They are polished so fine you kin stand up and comb your ha'r in front of 'em jes' like it was a lookin'-glass. Hope you'll come down to my store at the cross-roads, and examine that powder for yourselves.'

"When he had got about thus far a rival merchant, who had been boiling with indignation at the amount of advertising, got up and said: 'Bretherin, I hope you'll not believe a single word Brother Jones has been saying about that powder. I've been down thar and seen it for myself, and I pledge you my word, brethren, that the grains is bigger than the lumps in a coal-pile, and any one of you brethren in your future state could put a bar❜l of that powder on your shoulder and march square through the sulphurious flames of the world below without the least danger of an explosion." (')

Mr. Lincoln desired to see the army, and on the following morning, mounted on General Grant's favorite horse, "Cincinnati," he rode along the lines. The soldiers tossed their caps and cheered lustily for the man in whom they had unswerving confidence.

Again, as evening came, the President sat by the glowing camp-fire. He spoke of the events of the war-of the changes that had taken place, the patriotism of the people, the attitude of England and France.

"Have you ever doubted, Mr. President," one asked, "of the final success of our cause?"

"Never for a moment. Mr. Seward has said that there is just enough virtue in the Republic to save it-not much to spare, but suffi

cient for any emergency. I agree with him. The capture of Mason and Slidell made me uneasy."

"Was it not hard to surrender them?"

"Yes, it was a pretty bitter pill to swallow; but I contented myself with believing that England's triumph in the matter would be shortlived, and that after the war we should be so powerful that we could call her to account for all the embarrassments she has inflicted on us. I felt a good deal like the sick man in Illinois who was told he hadn't probably many days to live, and he ought to make peace with any enemies he might have. He said the man he hated most of all was a fellow named Brown in the next village, and he guessed he had better commence with him first; so Brown was sent for, and when he came the sick man began to say in a voice as meek as Moses that he wanted to die in peace with all his fellow-creatures, and hoped he and Brown could now shake hands and bury all their enmity. The scene was becoming very pathetic. Brown had to get out his handkerchief and wipe his tears. He finally melted and reached out his hand, and they had a regular love feast. It was an affecting parting. Brown had about reached the door when the sick man raised himself, and said, 'See here, Brown, if I ever should get well that old grudge is going to stand,' so I thought that if this nation should happen to get well we might want that old grudge to stand against John Bull." (*)

It was a season of delightful recreation to the President. For the moment he forgot the great questions confronting him relating to the reconstruction of the seceded States-the future status of the liberated slaves, the pardon of the Confederate leaders. For four years he had been burdened with the nation's welfare. The lines had deepened upon his face. He had endured anxious days, passed sleepless nights. The grief of the nation had been his grief. But as the storm-tossed sailor beholds the headlands of the harbor where he may ride in safety, so he looked forward to a haven of peace and rest. He could rejoice in the thought that the people trusted him as they had trusted no other man since George Washington. They were sustaining his administration— manifesting their patriotism and confidence by subscribing for the new loan of $500,000,000, bearing 7 per cent. interest. It had been placed upon the market just before the election. Mr. Lincoln believed that the people would sustain the Government in financial as they had in military affairs. The bankers of Great Britain were not appealed to. They trusted the Confederate Government, subscribed to the Confederate cotton loan, but distrusted the United States. Their sympathies