Following the American Civil War Sesquicentennial with day by day writings of the time, currently 1863.

May 2010

With this post, a set of companion pages, Rebellion Documents, is launched, intended to provide background material to augment that which is published in this blog.

Mr. Adams’ May 31, 1860 speech is the first document in Rebellion Documents.

As a junior member of the United States House of Representatives, Charles Francis Adams, the grandson of President John  Adams and the son of President John, was not a regular speaker on the floor before his speech, “The Republican Party a Necessity.”

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In this, his maiden session, except in answer to the call of the clerk, Mr. Adams’s voice was heard but once in the House.  He would have preferred to maintain an unbroken silence; nut a presidential election was impending, and set speeches were in order.  These speeches, of the abstract, educational kind, while addressed to the House, were meant for the constituencies.  Some of Mr. Adams’s friends at home insisted that he must make himself heard; and in response to their urgency, he spoke.  His speech was thoroughly characteristic.  In no way sensational or vituperative, – it’s   calm, firm tone, excellent temper and well-ordered reasoning naturally commended it to an audience satiated by months of turgid rhetoric and personal abuse.  This his Southern colleagues appreciated; for, conscious what sinners they were in those respects, they the more keenly felt in others moderation of language and restraint in bearing.  A few days later one of the most extreme among them, Mr. Cobb, of Alabama, went out of his way to refer to Mr. Adams as “the only member never out of order;” and the person thus curiously singled out noted,”there is something singular in the civility formally paid me on the other side of the house.  I have never courted one of them; but I have insulted no one.”  It was to these men – the members from the South, and more especially to those from Virginia – that Mr. Adams now addressed himself, setting forth the cause of being – the raison d’être – of the Republican party in a natural resistance to the requirements and claims of a property interest, which, alone of all interests, was directly represented on the floor of the House by a solid phalanx of its members.  Then passing on to an appeal from the modern interpretation of the Declaration and Constitution to the understanding of the framers, he closed with a direct statement of the of the constitutional limits as respects slavery recognized and accepted by the Republican party, and his own belief in the utter futility and foreordained failure of any attempt on the Union.

Adams’ closing statement from The Republican Party a Necessity:

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The party thus associated has no purposes which it seeks to conceal. It harbors no hostile designs against the rights of any of the States. Its leading idea is reform, total and fundamental, in the spirit in which the Government has of late years been administered — reform, also, in the details, which appear of late to have been suffered to run into many grave abuses. It is not to be concealed, that all over the country there is a well-defined impression that, for the sake of retaining power, corruption has been tolerated, if not actively encouraged, in high places; and the various efforts at investigation made within a few years, so far from removing that uneasiness, have gone far to increase it. Without undertaking to judge of the truth or the error at the bottom of the feeling, I do yet maintain that, for the honor of the country and of all who may be concerned in the administration of the Government, there is an overruling necessity for a complete change of the persons now responsible for its direction. The reform must be wide enough to restore freedom as the guide of the Federal policy, and to pull down the idol which has usurped her throne. It must be deep enough to reinstate honesty above suspicion in the dispensation of the pecuniary contracts incident to the possession of great place. If the execution of such a policy as this constitutes good ground for a resort to extreme measures of resistance by any portion of the people of these States, then is there no hope of further harmony in America; for the evils which would ensue to us, if we were deterred from action by such considerations, would be far more fatal to the public peace and prosperity, in the ultimate result, than any which could grow out of perseverance against unreasonable demands. Once more may the words of the great Roman patriots be appealed to: “Nulla enim minantis auctoritas apud liberos est.[2]

And the remedy is secession, or, in plainer words, a dissolution of the Union and a disruption of the Constitution! So we are told. In a word, the people who defy us to put the negro out of this Hall; who claim that, by virtue of that negro, twenty of their number stand upon this floor; who hold a majority of the seats on the bench of the Supreme Court; who have time out of mind wielded in their own favor the executive influence of the Federal Government, imagine that they are about to better their condition by abandoning all these enormous privileges, and by setting up another Government, without any similar advantages, among themselves. Perhaps there might be some plausibility in this idea, if you could fence yourselves all round with a high wall, and proclaim a complete non-intercourse with the world outside. But the day for these fancies is passing off, even with the Chinese and the Japanese, who have held to them the longest. Your slaves will not be made safer at home, or less aggressive when abroad, by the withdrawal of the power of reclamation; neither will your internal condition be less an object of anxiety to your neighbors than it is now. The mere fact of the existence or the non-existence of a common bond of government may modify, but it cannot materially change, the conditions of your great social problem. If the Constitution were expunged by agreement to-morrow, its difficulties might, indeed, be aggravated, but, trust me, not one of them would be removed.

Whatever we may choose to think or say of one another, either for good or evil, a higher Power above us has raised up on this continent a people, who, whether united or divided, whether praying or cursing, whether loving or fighting, are destined to remain, in all the essential features of religion, language, thought, feeling, habits, customs, and manners, one and the same. Whatever seriously touches the condition of one portion of us, does and will have its effect upon the rest. In spite of all efforts to the contrary, there is and will be a common sympathy, having its root in that universal principle, a simple allusion to which, by a great dramatist of antiquity, is said to have instantaneously elicited a burst of enthusiasm from the thousands who crowded the Roman theatre — “I am a man; nothing that touches men can fail to move me.” Do you say that you can and will resist all this; that you will shut yourselves up at home, and see no more of the light of reason than is consistent with the preservation of what you are pleased to denominate your property? Then try it a while, if you are mad enough to be bent on the experiment. But permit me to predict, at this time, THAT IT WILL INNOMINIOUSLY FAIL. You cannot separate from us, unless you can blot from your memory all the traces of a common descent, a common literature, social affinities cemented by the dearest ties, and of a common faith. The violent men who are counselling this extreme policy, and in whom you now put your trust, will not retain their hold upon your confidence, when you open your eyes to the consequences of their work, and to the causes which they assign in their justification. It may then be too late entirely to repair the damage; but, whether late or early, you shall not have it to say, that there was not at least one voice, however humble, among those of your fancied opponents, which did not warn you of the folly of throwing off friends and fellow-citizens, only because they preferred to follow the doctrines taught by your and their fathers, rather than to desert them in your company. CHOOSE YE, WHERE YOU WILL GO.  AS FOR US, WE WILL ADHERE TO THE ANCIENT FAITH.

[1] We invite you to no quarrel; but we set a higher value on our own liberty than on your friendship.
[2] The voice of menace has no power with freemen.

Sources:

Charles Francis Adams, by his son, Charles Francis Adams, Houghton Mifflin and Company, Boston and New York, copyright 1900

The Republican Party a Necessity, Speech of Charles Frances Adams of Massachusetts, Delivered in the House of Representatives, May 31, 1860.

To Leonard Swett
Springfield, Ills. May 30, 1860.

Hon. L. Swett.

My dear Sir: Your letter written to go to New York is long, but substantially right I believe.  You heard Weed conversed with me, and you now have Putnam’s letters.  It can not have failed to strike you that these men ask for just the same thing—fairness and fairness only.  This so far as in my power, they and all others shall have.  If this suggests any modification of or addition to your letter make it accordingly.  Burn this; not that there is anything wrong in it, but because it is best not to be known that I wrote at all.

Yours as ever

A. Lincoln
Springfield, Illinois, May 28, 1860.

Hon. George Ashmun, President of the Republican National Convention:

SIR—I accept the nomination tendered me by the Convention over which you presided, and of which I am formally apprised in the letter of yourself and others, acting as a Committee of the Convention for that purpose.

The declaration of principles and sentiments which accompanies your letter, meets my approval; and it shall be my care not to violate or disregard it, in any part.

Imploring the assistance of Divine Providence, and with due regard to the views and feelings of all who were represented in the Convention—to the rights of all the States and Territories, and the people of the nation—to the inviolability of the Constitution, and the perpetual Union, harmony and prosperity of all—I am most happy to co-operate for the practical success of the principles declared by the Convention.

………………Your obliged friend and fellow-citizen,

Abraham Lincoln.

To William C. Baker
Springfield, May 28, 1860.
Wm. C. Baker,

You request an autograph and here it is.

A. Lincoln

Addressed to Hon. Josiah H. Drummond, of Portland, Maine, shortly after the nomination of Mr. Lincoln at Chicago, this letter “describes the whole historical scene in graphic expressions worthy of perusal and preservation:” – (Lincoln’s campaign: or, the political revolution of 1860 By Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, c 1896)

“I made the acquaintance of Mr. Lincoln early in the year 1849. Since then we have twice a year traveled over five counties, spending together most of the time from September until January, and from March until June, inclusive. Originally most of the lawyers did this, but lately one by one they have abandoned the circuit; and for perhaps five years Lincoln and myself have been the only ones who have habitually passed over the whole circuit. It seems to me I have tried 10,000 lawsuits with or against him. I know him as intimately as I have ever known any man in my life, perhaps more intimately, if possible, than I knew you when I left Waterville.

“I was with him the week before the Convention. In speaking of the propriety of his going to it, he said he was most too much of a candidate to go, and not quite enough to stay at home.

“Our delegation was instructed for him, but of the twenty-two votes in it, by incautiously selecting the men, there were eight who would gladly have gone for Seward. * * * The first thing after getting our headquarters was to have the delegation proper invite the co-operation of outsiders as though they were delegates. Thus we began. The first State approached was Indiana. She was about equally divided between Bates and McLean. Saturday, Sunday and Monday were spent upon her, when finally she came to us unitedly with twenty-six votes, and from that time acted efficiently with us.

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From the Chicago Press and Tribune, May 23.
Published in NY Times: May 26, 1860

Ten thousand inquiries will be made as to the looks, the habits, tastes, and other characteristics of Honest Old ABE. We anticipate a few of them.

Mr. LINCOLN stands six feet and four inches high in his stockings. His frame is not muscular, but gaunt and wiry; his arms are long, but not unreasonably so for a person of his height; his lower limbs are not disproportioned to his body. In walking, his gait, though firm, is never brisk. He steps slowly and deliberately, almost always with his head inclined forward and his hands clasped behind his back. In matters of dress he is by no means precise. Always clean, he is never fashionable; he is careless, but not slovenly. In manner he is remarkably cordial, and, at the same time, simple. His politeness is always sincere, but never elaborate and oppressive. A warm shake of the hand and a warmer smile of recognition are his methods of greeting his friends. At rest, his features, though those of a man of mark, are not such as belong to a handsome man; but when his fine dark-gray eyes are lighted up by any emotion, and his features begin their play, he would be chosen from among a crowd as one who had in him not only the kind sentiments which women love, but the heavier metal of which full grown men and Presidents are made. His hair is black, and though thin, is wiry. His head sets well on his shoulders, but beyond that it defies description. It nearer resembles that of CLAY than that of WEBSTER; but it is unlike either. It is very large, and, phrenologically, well proportioned, betokening power in all its developments. A slightly Roman nose, a wide-cut mouth, and a dark complexion, with the appearance of having been weather-beaten, completes the description.

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CINCINNATI, May 23, 1860.

DEAR UNCLE: — We are all very well; have escaped the hurricane and floods without injury. Mother Webb was on a railroad train going to Lexington the afternoon of the great blow — the train ran over a tree causing alarm, but no injury to passengers.

•           •           •

Lincoln you are, of course, pleased with. He takes well here. All well at Columbus.

Sincerely,

R. B. HAYES.

S. BIRCHARD.

(Letters of a Family During the War for the Union)

Writing in 1864, looking back at the early days of the war.

“No one knows, who did not watch the thing from the beginning, how much opposition, how much how much unfeeling want of thought, these women nurses endured. Hardly a surgeon whom I can think of, received or treated them with even common courtesy. Government had decided that women should be employed, and the army surgeons—unable, therefore, to close the hospitals against them—determined to make their lives so unbearable that they should be forced in self-defence to leave. It seemed a matter of cool calculation, just how much ill-mannered opposition would be requisite to break up the system.

Some of the bravest women I have ever known were among this first company of army nurses. They saw at once the position of affairs, the attitude assumed by the surgeons and the wall against which they were expected to break and scatter; and they set themselves to undermine the whole thing.

None of them were ‘strong-minded.’ Some of them were women of the truest refinement and culture; and day after day they quietly and patiently worked, doing, by order of the surgeon, things which not one of those gentlemen would have dared to ask of a woman whose male relative stood able and ready to defend her and report him. I have seen small white hands scrubbing floors, washing windows, and performing all menial offices. I have known women, delicately cared for at home, half fed in hospitals, hard worked day and night, and given, when sleep must be had, a wretched closet just large enough for a camp bed to stand in. I have known surgeons who purposely and ingeniously arranged these inconveniences with the avowed intention of driving away all women from their hospitals.

These annoyances could not have been endured by the nurses but for the knowledge that they were pioneers, who were, if possible, to gain standing ground for others,—who must create the position they wished to occupy. This, and the infinite satisfaction of seeing from day to day sick and dying men comforted in their weary and dark hours, comforted as they never would have been but for these brave women, was enough to carry them through all and even more than they endured.

At last, the wall against which they were to break, began to totter; the surgeons were most unwilling to see it fall, but the knowledge that the faithful, gentle care of the women-nurses had saved the lives of many of their patients, and that a small rate of mortality, or remarkable recoveries in their hospitals, reflected credit immediately upon themselves, decided them to give way, here and there, and to make only a show of resistance. They could not do without the women-nurses; they knew it, and the women knew that they knew it, and so there came to be a tacit understanding about it.

When the war began, among the many subjects on which our minds presented an entire blank was that sublime, unfathomed mystery ‘Professional Etiquette.’ Out of the army, in practice which calls itself ‘civil,’ the etiquette of the profession is a cold spectre, whose presence is felt everywhere, if not seen; but in the Medical Department of the Army, it was an absolute Bogie, which stood continually in one’s path, which showed its narrow, ugly face in camps and in hospitals, in offices and in wards; which put its cold paw on private benevolence, whenever benevolence was fool enough to permit it; which kept shirts from ragged men, and broth from hungry ones; an evil Regular Army Bogie, which in full knowledge of empty kitchens and exhausted ‘funds,’ quietly asserted that it had need of nothing, and politely bowed Philanthropy out into the cold.

All this I was profoundly ignorant of for the first few months of the war, and so innocently began my rounds with my little jelly pots and socks knit at home for the boys—when, suddenly, I met the Bogie;—and what a queer thing he was! It was a hot summer morning, not a breath of air coming in at the open windows—the hospital full of sick men, and the nurses all busy, so I sat by a soldier and fanned him through the long tedious hours. Poor man, he was dying, and so grateful to me, so afraid I should tire myself. I could have fanned him all day for the pleasure it was to help him, but the Bogie came in, and gave me a look of icy inquiry. My hand ought to have been paralysed at once, but somehow or other, it kept moving on with the fan in it, while I stupidly returned the Bogie’s stare.

Finding that I still lived, he quietly made his plan, left the room without saying a word, and in ten minutes afterward developed his tactics. He was a small Bogie—knowing what he wanted to do, but not quite brave enough to do it alone; so he got Miss Dix, who was on hand, to help him, and together, they brought all the weight of professional indignation to bear upon me. I ‘must leave immediately.’ Who was I, that I should bring myself and my presumptuous fan, without direct commission from the surgeon-general,’ into the hospital? ‘Not only must I leave at once, but I must never return.’

This was rather a blow, it must be confessed. The moment for action had arrived—I rapidly reviewed my position, notified myself that I was the Benevolent Public, and decided that the sick soldiers were, in some sort, the property of the B. P. Then I divulged my tactics. I informed the Bogies (how well that rhymes with Fogies) that I had ordered my carriage to return at such a hour, that the sun was hot, that I had no intention whatever of walking out in it, and that, in short, I had decided to remain. What there was in these simple facts, very quietly announced, to exorcise the demon, I am unable to say, but the gratifying result was that half an hour afterward Professional Etiquette made a most salutary repast off its own remarks; that I spent the remainder of the day where I was; that both the Bogies, singly, called the next morning to say—‘Please, sir, it wasn’t me, sir, —’twas the other boy, sir;’ and from that time the wards were all before me.”

Now that the frolicking is over and there is plenty of time to read the papers, I find much to trouble and alarm. This is a Presidential year and already there are indications of a hot fight. Brother Junius is an Old Line Whig and Father and Buddy are Democrats. They almost quarrel over their different views. Everett and Bell are the Whig candidates, while Breckinridge and Lane are ours. General Lane is our cousin and we feel an interest in his success, but there are others in the race also and nobody can tell how it will be decided.

Lincoln and Hamlin are the Black Republican candidates. This seems to be a new political party and, as near as I can come at it, they have two objects in view, the freeing of the Negroes and the downfall of the South. I am only a child but reading the papers, that is the way it seems to be.

The Convention was held in Charleston, South Carolina, and there was great excitement, the Democrats were not satisfied at putting out a good strong ticket but brought out another, Stephen A. Douglass and Herschel V. Johnston. I cannot remember which name comes first. Father regrets deeply that they should have done this, for, he says, it will weaken the chances of the Democrats.

Mattie is so cute; because her father is a Whig she says she is a Whig too, she shakes her golden curls and turns up her pretty little nose when Cousin Rob and I sing Democratic songs, one especially, sung to the tune of “Benny Havens, Oh:”

“Hark from the tomb a doleful sound,

We hear a mournful yell,

Old fogies shout discordant notes

For Everett and Bell.”

This to Mattie is like shaking a red rag at a bull, isn’t it too funny? I mean to read the papers every day and keep up with the news.

Half an hour later. Just as I was closing my diary Father, who was lying on the couch in the library where I was writing, said: “What is my baby writing? It has brought a real grown-up frown to her face.” I gave him the book to read, he did not say a word for awhile and then he said, “You are getting to be quite a politician. I didn’t know you felt such an interest,” and then he talked to me for some minutes concerning the campaign, which was even now upon us and he told me to come to him whenever there was anything I could not understand. He thought well of the plan of reading the newspapers. He said it was the duty of men and women to keep themselves informed in all matters concerning the welfare of the country.

CINCINNATI, May 11, 1860.

DEAR UNCLE — Our delegates have left for Chicago. After Chase, they will prefer Wade, Fremont, or some such candidate — anyone named before Seward.

Sincerely,

R. B. HAYES.

S. BIRCHARD.