Although more a testament to Lincoln’s greatness than a dispassionate account, the book provides a window on the process of electing and reelecting a president a century and a half ago. ‘‘Fraudulent voting prevailed to a large extent’’ (p. 4). Marching clubs, known as ‘‘Wide Awakes,’’ paraded through towns. Candidates’ biographies were reduced to identifying labels. ‘‘The appellation of Pathfinder was given to [Gen. John C.] Fremont because in earlier years he had explored the then hardly known Western territory, with the aid of scouts and pioneers, and had indicated passes and routes through the mountains’’ (p. 6). Slogans abounded. ‘‘ ‘Free Speech, Free Soil, Free Men, and Fremont!’ These words were shouted at all public meetings and in all public processions.’’ Then, as now, slogans digested the central message of a campaign. ‘‘Indeed the [Fremont] cry was a stump speech in itself ’’ (p. 7). The link between electioneering and entertainment was strong, with barbecues being ‘‘the usual accompaniment of a political campaign’’ (p. 7). Money mattered as well. ‘‘It is doubtful if the National Committee had more than $100,000 to spend, and most of this went for printing and postage. . . . Had it been necessary for Mr. Lincoln or his managers to raise a half-million dollars, or go down to defeat, Lincoln would have lost out’’ (p. 39).
Change the names, update the language, and Dittenhoefer’s complaints about attacks by the other side and by the partisan press sound remarkably current. ‘‘Denunciation of Lincoln by Democratic spellbinders was of the bitterest character. Newspapers affiliated with the antiwar party criticized every act of the administration and belittled the conduct of the war by Federal generals in the field’’ (p. 92). So, too, do accusations of pandering. ‘‘The great Daniel Webster had ruined his political career some years previously by trying to be ‘all things to all men’ politically’’ (p. 19).
Then, as now, candidates offered subtle and obvious allusions to their religious faith. ‘‘Lincoln was fond of quoting from the Bible without mentioning the fact, whereas Douglas was often caught differing with the Scriptures. Naturally Lincoln took advantage of his political opponent’s lack of Biblical knowledge’’ (p. 11).
The corruption of the system that concerns us has parallels in the past as well. So, for example, Dittenhoefer decries the presence of ‘‘commercial grafters and alleged statesmen, every one of whom was in politics for personal profit’’ (p. 69).
In sum, this admiring account of the political campaigns and presidency of Abraham Lincoln is a useful window on a consequential time in the nation’s history and a helpful confirmation of how the process by which we elect a president has changed and how it has remained the same.
Notes
1. Oliver Gramling, AP: The Story of News (New York: Farrar and Rinehart, 1940), p. 37.
2. Reprinted in The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, vol. 4, ed. Roy P. Basler (New Brunswick, N. J.: Rutgers University Press, 1953), p. 246.
3. Carl Sandburg, Abraham Lincoln: The War Years, 4 vols. (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1939), 1, p. 123.
Preface
This book offers my personal recollections of the immortal Emancipator, and of the memorable campaigns of 1860 and 1864, in which, as a young man, I was actively engaged.
In looking back upon a life of fourscore years I find no prouder memories than those of the years 1860– 65. They illumined my being, and my life became inspired through association with the immortal Abraham Lincoln and the great men of the anti-slavery conflict.
I am unwilling to allow these reminiscences to go forth without giving credit to my old friend Julius Chambers, for the valuable assistance he rendered in compiling them.
I
The Man—Lincoln
Circumstances brought to me personal knowledge of Mr. Lincoln for nearly four years. I had frequent interviews with him, and so was able to form a wellconsidered estimate of the great Emancipator’s character and personality.
Born in Charleston, South Carolina, of Democratic pro-slavery parents, I was brought in early youth to New York; and although imbued with the sentiments and antipathies of my Southern environment, I soon became known as a Southerner with Northern principles. At that time there were many Northern men with Southern principles.
The city of New York, as I discovered upon reaching the age of observation, was virtually an annex of the South, the New York merchants having extensive and very profitable business relations with the merchants south of the Mason and Dixon line.
The South was the best customer of New York. I often said in those days, ‘‘Our merchants have for sale on their shelves their principles, together with their merchandise.’’
An amusing incident occurred to my knowledge which aptly illustrates the condition of things in this pro-slavery city. A Southerner came to a New York merchant, who was a dealer in brushes and toilet articles, and offered him a large order for combs. The New York merchant, as it happened, was a Quaker, but this was not known to the Southerner. The latter made it a condition, in giving this large order, that the Quaker merchant should exert all his influence in favor of the South. The Southerner wished to do something to offset the great agitation headed by the abolitionists which had been going on for years in the North for the extinction of slavery in the South. The Quaker merchant coolly replied that the South would have to go lousy for a long time before he would sell his combs to them under any such conditions.
Another occurrence that took place at an earlier period still further illumines this intense pro-slavery feeling. When Wendell Phillips, to my mind one of the greatest orators of America, delivered a radical and brilliant anti-slavery speech at the old Tabernacle, situated in Broadway below Canal Street, the hall was filled with pro-slavery shouters; they rotten-egged Phillips in the course of his address. With some friends I was present and witnessed this performance.
At nineteen I was wavering in my fidelity to the principles of the Democratic party, which, in the city of New York, was largely in favor of slavery.
I had just graduated from Columbia College, which was then situated in what is now known as College Place, between Chambers and Murray streets. At that time many of our prominent and wealthy families lived in Chambers, Murray, and Warren streets, and I frequently attended festivities held by the parents of the college boys in the old-fashioned mansions which lined those thoroughfares.
Soon after leaving college I became a student in the law office of Benedict & Boardman, occupying offices in Dey Street, near Broadway. At that time the late John E. Parsons, a distinguished member of the New York bar, was the managing clerk; and Charles O’Connor, the head of the New York bar in that generation, and who, in later years, ran as an Independent candidate for the Presidency, was connected with that firm as counsel.
Sitting one day at my desk, I took up a newspaper, and the debate between Judah P. Benjamin, the rabid but eloquent pro-slavery Senator from Louisiana, and Benjamin F. Wade, the free-soil Senator from Ohio, attracted my attention.
Benjamin had made a strong address in defense of slavery when Wade arose and replied. He began his reply with some bitter and memorable words, words which completely changed my political views.
‘‘I have listened with intense interest,’’ said he, ‘‘as