|Today marks the 150th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s untimely death at the hands of an assassin. “Now he belongs to the ages”, as Secretary of War Edwin Stanton uttered, and indeed quite a Lincoln legacy has arisen. He is routinely cited as one the most influential as well as one of the most beloved of our Presidents; there are countless towns, streets, schools, companies, products, etc. named after him; he is quoted – and sometimes misquoted – by politicians, preachers, and the like; his likeness appears on both a coin and a bill; and there are memorials to him all over the country (well, at least in the North). Over the years, Abraham Lincoln has been remembered for many things:
But what did Lincoln himself most wish for in regard to his legacy? He was just 23 years old and had been a resident of the town of New Salem for only about six months when he decided to run for the Illinois State Legislature. In order to introduce himself to the voters, he prepared a handbill which outlined his political positions, concluding with a statement which included these words:
“Every man is said to have his peculiar ambition. Whether it be true or not, I can say for one that I have no other so great as that of being truly esteemed of my fellow men, by rendering myself worthy of their esteem. How far I shall succeed in gratifying this ambition, is yet to be developed…”
[The young Lincoln would not win that election, although he would receive 92% of the votes cast in his own town. Two years later, he would try again and would win, going on to serve four consecutive terms.]
There is often a great divide between ambition and legacy. My previous blog post quoted Confederate Vice President Alexander Stephens’ prophecy that one day the entire “civilized and enlightened world” would acknowledge that the South had been right, that enslavement of the African race was not an evil, but a good, ordained by God Himself. Thankfully that ambition did not become the legacy!
This might also have been Lincoln’s fate if he had died earlier in his Presidency, or if the Civil War had not turned out as it did. Had this been the case, today Lincoln might very well be regarded as one of our worst Presidents ever: unqualified and unprepared for the great task he faced, a weak leader, and a traitor to the Constitution. As it was, however, we see that Lincoln’s stated ambition was overwhelmingly gratified, at least after his death. His ambition has been fully realized in his legacy.
Throughout Lincoln’s adult life, he repeated and restated this ambition to prove himself worthy of the esteem and respect of his contemporaries. While suffering a severe case of depression at age 32, for example – his political career was faltering, he had broken off his engagement with Mary Todd, and his best friend Joshua Speed had moved away –, Lincoln wrote to Speed saying that he was more than willing to die, except that he had “done nothing to make any human being remember that he had lived” and that “to link his name with something that would redound to the interest of his fellow man was what he desired to live for”.
It would be another 22 years before Lincoln could feel absolutely certain that he had truly done something on behalf of his fellow man which would cause people to remember him. That day would come on January 1, 1863, when he signed the Emancipation Proclamation. Some had doubted that Lincoln would follow through on his pledge to sign such a controversial measure, and so when he twice picked up the pen to sign it, and then set it down again, the three men with him began to wonder.
But then the President explained that because he had been shaking hands for several hours at the annual White House New Year’s Day reception, his right arm was almost paralyzed. “If my name ever goes into history it will be for this act, and my whole soul is in it. If my hand trembles when I sign the Proclamation, all who examine the document hereafter will say, ‘He hesitated’.” Therefore he massaged his hands together until he felt sure that he could sign his name with confidence to this document which he called “the central act of my administration”.
Of course, Lincoln also recognized that since the Emancipation Proclamation was technically a war measure, others might come along after him, after the Civil War was over, and attempt to overturn it. This is why he put such great effort into getting the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution passed, outlawing slavery once and for all from the entire land.
Young Abe Lincoln’s expression of his ambition – “I have no other so great as that of being truly esteemed of my fellow men…” – no doubt reflects a universal human longing to be esteemed, valued, respected, etc. by others. But as Lincoln already knew at such a young age, this wouldn’t come to him by entitlement or chance; he must endeavor to make himself into a person deserving of such feelings: “…by rendering myself worthy of their esteem”. Today, we live in a world where respect and value are often demanded, as if they were rights. Perhaps we would be better off if instead we followed Abraham Lincoln’s example and strove to make ourselves truly deserving of them?
April 15, 2015
My previous blog post dealt with Abraham Lincoln’s first inaugural address, with the North and South on the verge of civil war. At that moment, our great experiment of a modern democratic republic appeared doomed to failure, after less than a century of existence. What had gone wrong?
The cause of the Civil War has been one of the most controversial questions of US history ever since. Most notably, some have held that it ultimately had more to do with the issue of States’ rights than with slavery. While it is true that States’ rights was sharply debated in the early decades of our history, it was nearly always discussed in the context of some other issue, and the most common of these was unquestionably slavery (the most notable exception being South Carolina’s attempt to nullify Federal tariffs in 1832-33).
In fact, for the first 85 years of our country’s existence, it was the issue of slavery which repeatedly and forcefully threatened to break us apart. This was especially true in the decade immediately preceding the Civil War as political and social tensions escalated. From the Compromise of 1850 to the Presidential Election of 1860, slavery’s place in our nation was the predominant political and social issue. It even resulted in the break-up and realignment of great national institutions such as political parties and religious denominations, the last time this has happened on such a large scale in our history.
But what about the fact that the authors of the Confederacy’s Constitution, adopted just one week after President Lincoln’s inauguration, inserted pro-States’-rights language in the very first line?: “We, the people of the Confederate States, each State acting in its sovereign and independent character, in order to form a permanent federal government, …” (note also that there’s no forming of a “more perfect Union” here!). This certainly suggests a greater emphasis on States’ rights, but this is just the preamble, an introductory statement of purposes and principles. An examination of the rest of the document as compared to the US Constitution reveals mixed results: in certain aspects it granted greater rights to the individual States, while in others it actually took rights away from them. The most notable difference between the two constitutions is not States’ rights but the treatment of slavery: while the US Constitution grudgingly protected slavery where it already existed, not even mentioning it by name, the Confederate Constitution explicitly protected it (no “law denying or impairing the right of property in negro slaves shall be passed”).
The intentions of the Confederate leaders become all the more clear when one considers a fascinating speech given by their Vice President ten days later. Speaking extemporaneously in Savannah, Georgia, Alexander Stephens explained the fundamental differences between the two constitutions, as well as the ideologies and beliefs behind them. He did talk about States’ rights – explaining the Confederacy’s elimination of the tariff and the prohibition on the national government funding large public works – but it is his last “change for the better” which is especially revealing: the final settlement of “all the agitating questions relating to our peculiar institution – African slavery as it exists amongst us – the proper status of the negro in our form of civilization”. Stephens acknowledged that “this was the immediate cause of the late rupture and present revolution” (not States’ rights), and noted quite correctly that when the US Constitution was adopted back in 1787, some of the Founding Fathers from southern States struggled in their minds over the place of slavery. There may have been a few outright apologists, i.e., defenders of slavery, but many others, including Thomas Jefferson, instead almost apologized for slavery. Stephens summed up the founders’ views as follows:
“The prevailing ideas entertained by him [Jefferson] and most of the leading statesmen at the time of the formation of the old constitution, were that the enslavement of the African was in violation of the laws of nature; that it was wrong in principle, socially, morally, and politically. It was an evil they knew not well how to deal with, but the general opinion of the men of that day was that, somehow or other in the order of Providence, the institution would be evanescent and pass away.”
Then Stephens dropped the bombshell: on this point, the founders were fundamentally wrong; the enslavement of the African race was not an evil, but a good, ordained by God Himself. And it was the founders of the Confederacy, the present generation (himself included), who were the first people to be truly enlightened to this fact!:
“Our new government is founded upon exactly the opposite idea; its foundations are laid, its corner-stone rests upon the great truth, that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery – subordination to the superior race – is his natural and normal condition. This, our new government, is the first, in the history of the world, based upon this great physical, philosophical, and moral truth.”
According to Stephens, those who disagreed with this startling assessment were illogical and insane, and they would ultimately be defeated because they were fighting against a principle of nature, against truth, and against God. Someday, Stephens prophesied, this would be acknowledged “throughout the civilized and enlightened world”.
Lest you think that this was the rambling of a crazed man, keep in mind that Alexander Stephens was a well-respected politician and a self-made man known for his wisdom and generosity. He was a former ally of Lincoln’s, generally held moderate views, and initially opposed secession and extremist elements in the South. Thus his frank words that day likely reflect the views of the majority of white Southerners toward slavery at that time. It is also revealing that those who recorded his speech noted that Stephens was often interrupted by the applause of his listeners. [For the full text and more information about Stephens’ speech, see this Wikipedia article.]
All this is not to say that all white Northerners at the time believed in the equality of the races. The majority, in fact, Lincoln included, did not think that the races could or would ever be equal in all respects, especially socially and politically. But they generally did believe – and Lincoln most certainly did – in equal treatment in terms of the ideals of the Declaration of Independence (“life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”) and the basic protections of the Constitution. It would appear that white Southerners were heading in just the opposite direction, becoming more radicalized and entrenched in their views.
Living as we do today in a world greatly affected by extremist elements, it would behoove us to consider how the South arrived at this point. I would submit that all of the following played a part: inward-focused attitudes and policies; racial prejudices based on misunderstandings and arrogance; resentment over perceived northern aggression and domination; fear of future effects of losing political influence on the national level (losing their way of life, and the economic uncertainty of transitioning from a slave labor system to a free labor system); and a willingness to blindly use religion to justify actions and beliefs. It is easy to allow fear, prejudice, resentment, a feeling of powerlessness, etc. to be one’s guide – whether as a person or as a nation –, but these generally do not ultimately lead to truth, justice, or goodness.
April 1, 2015
I inaugurated my blog two weeks ago on March 4, pointing out the now mostly forgotten historical significance of that date in US history: it was on that date in the year 1789 that our Constitution went into effect and our government took on the form it still has today, and it was also the date on which our Presidential inaugurations took place until the year 1933.
It is therefore not at all surprising that when President-elect Abraham Lincoln took the oath of office on March 4, 1861 – seven of the 15 southern States having recently seceded from the Union to form the Confederate States of America and the other eight threatening to leave as well – the Constitution was first and foremost in his mind. He referred to the Constitution itself or to constitutional rights, questions, etc. 34 times in his speech (the only inaugural address with more constitutional references was William Harrison’s in 1841, with 39, but his speech was more than twice as long).
Lincoln’s theme that day was essentially the following: in light of the Constitution and laws of our country, what was he going to do in response to the current crisis? He attempted to strike a seemingly impossible balance: persuade the South to voluntarily turn back from the path it had taken without compromising the integrity of the Constitution and system of government. The Constitution turned 72 years old that day, approximately the human lifespan. Was this great document, and the country it governed, also nearing its end? It certainly seemed so.
Lincoln first carefully repeated his new administration’s very clear stance on the slavery issue, in order to reassure the South. He would not interfere with the institution of slavery in the States where it already existed and was protected by the Constitution – “I believe I have no lawful right to do so, and I have no inclination to do so” – including upholding the controversial fugitive slave law (returning escaped slaves to their masters).
Lincoln then laid out his case that the Union was perpetual, that no State could leave the Union without the consent of the others. This would be true whether viewed from the perspective of a national government (“It is safe to assert that no government proper, ever had a provision in its organic law for its own termination”) or as a contract (“One party to a contract may violate it – break it, so to speak; but does it not require all to lawfully rescind it?”). And since the Union was actually older than the Constitution, it would certainly be true when viewed from the perspective of that document, one of whose objectives was ‘to form a more perfect union’:
“But if destruction of the Union, by one, or by a part only, of the States, be lawfully possible, the Union is less perfect than before the Constitution, having lost the vital element of perpetuity. It follows from these views that no State, upon its own mere motion, can lawfully get out of the Union … I therefore consider that, in view of the Constitution and the laws, the Union is unbroken …”.
The remainder of Lincoln’s address that day laid out further arguments against secession mixed with further appeals to reason and self-restraint. He noted that both secession and minority rule lead down the path to anarchy. He spoke of the benefits, memories, and hopes of ‘our national fabric’, and about ‘the restoration of fraternal sympathies and affections’. The present crisis could still be overcome, he claimed, through ‘intelligence, patriotism, Christianity, and a firm reliance on Him, who has never yet forsaken this favored land’. He reasoned that if the South did go to war, they could not fight forever, and after great losses on both sides, they would still have to deal with the same questions as before.
On some points, Lincoln did take a firm stand; the Constitution, after all, required him to ensure that the laws were respected in all of the States. Specifically, he said that the Federal government would use its power to maintain possession of government installations in the South (read: Fort Sumter), and to collect taxes; yet it would do nothing else which might provoke any feelings of an invasion.
Would all of this be sufficient to avert war? Lincoln left that up to the South, while still maintaining a firm stance on his own obligations:
“In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, and not in mine, is the momentous issue of civil war. The government will not assail you. You can have no conflict, without being yourselves the aggressors. You have no oath registered in Heaven to destroy the government, while I shall have the most solemn one to ‘preserve, protect and defend’ it.”
Lincoln’s drafts had ended with a dramatic question for the South: “Shall it be peace or sword?” On the suggestion of Secretary of State William Seward, however, Lincoln dropped this combative ending in favor of one last conciliatory appeal to their shared history and experiences:
“I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battle-field, and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone, all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”
Why was Lincoln so ‘loath to close’? It would seem to be that he believed this was his last, best chance to save the Union without war. One senses that he felt that as long as he continued talking, they would presumably be listening, and possibly open to turn back. Yet as soon as he closed his remarks, there would be an ominous finality to the whole dreadful situation. If he hadn’t persuaded them by that time, it would then be too late. Unfortunately for our country – as fate, or providence, would have it – this would prove to be the case.
Kevin J. Wood
March 18, 2015
For today’s average US citizen, even a decidedly patriotic one, the date of March 4 probably holds little meaning, especially in comparison to July 4. Yet this wasn’t always the case.
While July 4, 1776 – the date of the first public reading of the Declaration of Independence – is deservedly regarded as the birthdate of our nation, the date of March 4, 1789 was just as significant. On that day, the US Constitution went into effect, the former Congress under the Articles of Confederation dissolved itself, and the first session of the very first new US Congress began in New York City (although without a quorum of members). No longer were we simply a loosely-linked confederation of independent States; now we were truly the United States, a “more perfect union”. In short, March 4, 1789 marks the beginning of our country with our form of government as we know it today. If July 4 was our birthday, perhaps March 4 marks our confirmation or bat mitzvah: our coming of age and formal introduction to an inquisitive world still not sure what to make of us.
In addition, March 4 would be the Inauguration Day for our Presidents for the next 150 years, from George Washington’s second term in 1793 all the way until Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s first term in 1933. As a result, March 4 has seen more than its share of significant moments, such as the year 1797 when a remarkable (for that time) transition of power took place. On that day, an immensely popular President Washington, who likely could have remained in that position for the rest of his life had he wanted to, instead stepped aside as John Adams became our second President. Washington would not be king, nor even the permanent head of government; he would not be corrupted by power. And it would not require a coup, war, or political intrigue in order to pass the reins of power from one common citizen to another. We take such peaceful transitions of power for granted today; back then it was truly revolutionary. What’s more, in a highly symbolic gesture, once Adams and new Vice President Thomas Jefferson were inaugurated, Washington also stepped aside literally to allow the new leaders to leave the room first; he was, after all, now just a private citizen.
Over the next century and a half, many more March 4 inaugurations would come and go, some marking other important – or not-so-important – firsts. There was the first inauguration in our brand new capital city of Washington, DC (Jefferson in 1801); the first to be followed by a ball (Madison in 1809; tickets: $4); the first to take place while the country was at war (Madison in 1813); the first in which the President wore long trousers instead of knee breeches (J. Q. Adams in 1825); the first in which a “man of the people” would ascend to the presidency (Jackson in 1829); the first in which African-Americans participated (Lincoln in 1865); the first to be recorded on a movie camera (McKinley in 1897); the first in which the President-elect arrived by automobile (Harding in 1921); and the first to be broadcast nationwide by radio (Coolidge in 1925).
The highlight of every inauguration is, of course, the inaugural speech. Some of these would defend past actions, such as Jefferson in 1805 explaining his controversial decision to double the size of the country in one fell swoop by purchasing the vast Louisiana Territory from France. Others would lay out bold new policies, such as Monroe in 1821 telling the European colonial powers that the various peoples of America could and would govern themselves just fine without any more help from across the pond, thank you very much (for the record, the 1821 inauguration wasn’t actually held until March 5 since the fourth was a Sunday).
The tradition of March 4 inaugurations went out in style as the last one to take place on that date was a very memorable one. The country was in the grips of the Great Depression when Franklin D. Roosevelt strove to both calm and embolden the people in 1933: “Let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself …”. In the same speech, FDR would outline his “good neighbor” policy for foreign relations with Latin America.
The 1933 inauguration would be the last to take place on March 4 because after that the 20th Amendment to the Constitution took effect, changing its date to the now-familiar January 20. And with that, the historical importance of March 4 would begin to slowly recede from our nation’s collective memory.
With this context and history of the date of March 4 in mind, one can better understand the import of two of Abraham Lincoln’s best-known speeches, his first and second inaugurals. Both took place on momentous occasions, the first with the nation on the verge of civil war, and the second (150 years ago today) as the nation prepared itself for the difficult task of reuniting after a terribly divisive war. I will turn my attention to those two speeches in subsequent blogs.
Now you will also understand why I felt that March 4 would be a particularly fitting day to inaugurate my new Lincoln blog, “Loath to Close … Still!”
Kevin J. Wood (“Mr. Lincoln”)
March 4, 2015