So far Mr. Lincoln's new duties as President had not placed him
at any disadvantage with the members of his cabinet. On the old
question of slavery he was as well informed and had clearer ideas
than they. On the new military questions that had come up since
the inauguration, they, like himself, had to rely on the advice
of experienced officers of the army and navy; and since these
differed greatly, Mr. Lincoln's powerful mind was as able to
reach true conclusions as were men who had been governors and
senators. Yet the idea lingered that because he had never before
held high office, and because a large part of his life had been
passed in the rude surroundings of the frontier, he must of
necessity be lacking in power to govern--be weaker in will,
without tact or culture--must in every way be less fitted to cope
with the difficult problems so rapidly coming upon the
administration.

At the beginning even Secretary Seward shared this view. Mr.
Lincoln must have been surprised indeed, when, on the first day
of April, exactly four weeks after his inauguration, his
Secretary of State, the man he justly looked upon as the chief
member of his cabinet, handed him a paper on which were written
"Some Thoughts for the President's Consideration." It was most
grave and dignified in language, but in substance bluntly told
Mr. Lincoln that after a month's trial the Administration was
without a policy, domestic or foreign, and that this must be
remedied at once. It advised shifting the issue at home from
slavery to the question of Union or disunion; and counseled the
adoption of an attitude toward Europe which could not have failed
to rouse the anger of the principal foreign nations. It added
that the President or some member of his cabinet must make it his
constant duty to pursue and direct whatever policy should be
adopted, and hinted very plainly that although he, Mr. Seward,
did not seek such responsibility, he was willing to assume it.
The interest of this remarkable paper for us lies in the way Mr.
Lincoln treated it, and the measure that treatment gives us of
his generosity and self-control. An envious or a resentful man
could not have wished a better opportunity to put a rival under
his feet; but though Mr. Lincoln doubtless thought the incident
very strange, it did not for a moment disturb his serenity or his
kindly judgment. He answered in a few quiet sentences that showed
no trace of passion or even of excitement; and on the central
suggestion that some one person must direct the affairs of the
government, replied with dignity "if this must be done, I must do
it," adding that on affairs of importance he desired and supposed
he had a right to have the advice of all the members of his
cabinet. This reply ended the matter, and as far as is known,
neither of them ever mentioned the subject again. Mr. Lincoln put
the papers away in an envelope, and no word of the affair came to
the public until years after both men were dead. In one mind at
least there was no longer a doubt that the cabinet had a master.
Mr. Seward recognized the President's kindly forbearance, and
repaid it by devotion and personal friendship until the day of
his tragic death.

If, after this experience, the Secretary of State needed any
further proof of Mr. Lincoln's ability to rule, it soon came to
him, for during the first months of the war matters abroad
claimed the attention of the cabinet, and with these also the
untried western man showed himself better fitted to deal than his
more experienced advisers. Many of the countries of Europe,
especially France and England, wished the South to succeed.
France because of plans that Emperor Napoleon III had for
founding French colonies on American soil, and England because
such success would give her free cotton for her mills and
factories. England became so friendly toward the rebels that Mr.
Seward, much irritated, wrote a despatch on May 21, 1861, to
Charles Francis Adams, the American Minister at London, which, if
it had been sent as he wrote it, would almost certainly have
brought on war between the two countries. It set forth justly and
with courage what the United States government would and would
not endure from foreign powers during the war with the South, but
it had been penned in a heat of indignation, and was so blunt and
exasperating as to suggest intentional disrespect. When Mr.
Seward read it to the President the latter at once saw this, and
taking it from his Secretary of State kept it by him for further
consideration. A second reading showed him that his first
impression was correct. Thereupon the frontier lawyer, taking his
pen, went carefully over the whole dispatch, and by his
corrections so changed the work of the trained and experienced
statesman as entirely to remove its offensive tone, without in
the least altering its force or courage.

Once again during 1861 the country was in serious danger of war
with England, and the action of President Lincoln at this time
proved not only that he had the will to be just, even when his
own people were against him, but had the skill to gain real
advantage from what seemed very like defeat. One of the earliest
and most serious tasks of the Government had been to blockade the
southern ports, in order to prevent supplies from foreign
countries reaching the southern people, especially the southern
armies. Considering the great length of coast to be patrolled,
and the small size of the navy at the commencement of the
struggle, this was done with wonderful quickness, and proved in
the main effective, though occasionally a rebel boat managed to
slip in or out without being discovered and fired upon by the
ships on guard.

In November Captain Charles Wilkes learned that Ex-Senators J. M.
Mason and John Slidell, two prominent Confederates bound on an
important mission to Europe, had succeeded in reaching Cuba, and
from there had taken passage for England on the British mail
steamer Trent. He stopped the Trent and took Mason and Slidell
prisoners, afterward allowing the steamer to proceed on her way.
The affair caused intense excitement both in England and in the
United States, and England began instant preparations for war.
Lord Lyons, the British Minister at Washington, was instructed to
demand the release of the prisoners and a suitable apology within
one week, and if this were refused, to close his legation and
come home. It was fortunate that Lord Lyons and Mr. Seward were
close personal friends, and could, in spite of the excitement of
both countries, discuss the matter calmly and without anger.
Their conferences were brought to an end by Mr. Lincoln's
decision to give up the prisoners. In the North their capture had
been greeted with extravagant joy. Newspapers rang with praises
of Captain Wilkes; his act was officially approved by the
Secretary of the Navy, and the House of Representatives passed a
resolution thanking him for his "brave, adroit, and patriotic
conduct." In the face of all this it must have been hard indeed
for Mr. Lincoln to order that Mason and Slidell be given up; but
though he shared the first impulse of rejoicing, he soon became
convinced that this must be done. War with England must certainly
be avoided; and Captain Wilkes, by allowing the Trent to proceed
on her voyage, instead of bringing her into port with the
prisoners, had put it out of the power of his Government to
prove, under international law, that the capture was justified.
Besides all else, the President's quick mind saw, what others
failed to note, that by giving up the prisoners as England
demanded, the United States would really gain an important
diplomatic victory. For many years England had claimed the right
to stop and search vessels at sea when she had reason to believe
they carried men or goods hostile to her interests. The United
States denied the right, and yet this was exactly what Captain
Wilkes had done in stopping the Trent. By giving up the prisoners
the United States would thus force England to admit that her own
claim had been unjust, and bind her in future to respect the
rights of other ships at sea. Excited American feeling was
grievously disappointed, and harsh criticism of the
Administration for thus yielding to a foreign country was not
wanting; but American good sense soon saw the justice of the
point taken and the wisdom of Mr. Lincoln's course.

"He that is slow to anger," says the proverb, "is better than the
mighty, and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a
city." Great as was his self-control in other matters, nowhere
did Mr. Lincoln's slowness to anger and nobility of spirit show
itself more than in his dealings with the generals of the Civil
War. He had been elected President. Congress had given him power
far exceeding that which any President had ever exercised before.
As President he was also Commander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy
of the United States. By proclamation he could call forth great
armies and he could order those armies to go wherever he chose to
send them; but even he had no power to make generals with the
genius and the training necessary to lead them instantly to
success. He had to work with the materials at hand, and one by
one he tried the men who seemed best fitted for the task, giving
each his fullest trust and every aid in his power. They were as
eager for victory and as earnest of purpose as himself, but in
every case some misfortune or some fault marred the result, until
the country grew weary with waiting; discouragement overshadowed
hope, and misgiving almost engulfed his own strong soul. Then, at
last, the right men were found, the battles were all fought, and
the war was at an end.

His kindness and patience in dealing with the generals who did
not succeed is the wonder of all who study the history of the
Civil War. The letters he wrote to them show better than whole
volumes of description could do the helpful and forbearing spirit
in which he sought to aid them. First among these unsuccessful
generals was George B. McClellan, who had been called to
Washington after the battle of Bull Run and placed in charge of
the great new army of three years' volunteers that was pouring so
rapidly into the city. McClellan proved a wonderful organizer.
Under his skilful direction the raw recruits went to their camps
of instruction, fell without confusion or delay into brigades and
divisions, were supplied with equipments, horses and batteries,
and put through a routine of drill, tactics and reviews that soon
made this Army of the Potomac, as it was called, one of the best
prepared armies the world has ever seen--a perfect fighting
machine of over 150,000 men and more than 200 guns. General
McClellan excelled in getting soldiers ready to fight, but he did
not succeed in leading them to fruitful victory. At first the
administration had great hopes of him as a commander. He was
young, enthusiastic, winning, and on arriving in Washington
seemed amazed and deeply touched by the confidence reposed in
him. "I find myself," he wrote to his wife, "in a new and strange
position here, President, cabinet, General Scott, and all,
deferring to me. By some strange operation of magic I seem to
have become the power of the land." His rise in military rank had
equaled the inventions of fairy tales. He had been only a captain
during the Mexican war. Then he resigned. Two months after
volunteering for the Civil War he found himself a Major General
in the Regular Army. For a short time his zeal and activity
seemed to justify this amazing good fortune. In a fortnight
however he began to look upon himself as the principal savior of
his country. He entered upon a quarrel with General Scott which
soon drove that old hero into retirement and out of his pathway.
He looked upon the cabinet as a set of "geese," and seeing that
the President was kind and unassuming in discussing military
affairs, he formed the habit of expressing contempt for him in
letters to confidential friends. This feeling grew until it soon
reached a mark of open disrespect, but the President's conduct
toward him did not change. Mr. Lincoln's nature was too
forgiving, and the responsibility that lay upon him was too heavy
for personal resentment. For fifteen months he strove to make
McClellan succeed even in spite of himself. He gave him help,
encouragement, the most timely suggestions. He answered his
ever-increasing complaints with unfailing self-control. It was
not that he did not see McClellan's faults. He saw them, and felt
them keenly. "If Gen. McClellan does not want to use the army, I
would like to borrow it," he said one day, stung by the General's
inactivity into a sarcasm he seldom allowed himself to use. But
his patience was not exhausted. McClellan had always more
soldiers than the enemy, at Antietam nearly double his numbers,
yet his constant cry was for re-enforcements. Regiments were sent
him that could ill be spared from other points. Even when his
fault-finding reached the height of telegraphing to the Secretary
of War, "If I save this army now I tell you plainly that I owe no
thanks to you or to any other persons in Washington. You have
done your best to sacrifice this army," the President answered
him kindly and gently, without a sign of resentment, anxious only
to do everything in his power to help on the cause of the war. It
was of no avail. Even the great luck of finding a copy of General
Lee's orders and knowing exactly what his enemy meant to do, at a
time when the Confederate general had only about half as many
troops as he had, and these were divided besides, did not help
him to success. All he could do even then was to fight the drawn
battle of Antietam, and allow Lee to get away safely across the
Potomac River into Virginia. After this the President's
long-suffering patience was at an end, but he did not remove
McClellan until he had visited the Army of the Potomac in person.
What he saw on that visit assured him that it could never succeed
under such a general. "Do you know what that is ?" he asked a
friend, waving his arm towards the white tents of the great army.
"It is the Army of the Potomac, I suppose," was the wondering
answer. "So it is called," replied the President, in a tone of
suppressed indignation. "But that is a mistake. It is only
McClellan's bodyguard." On November 5, 1862, McClellan was
relieved from command, and this ended his military career.

There were others almost equally trying. There was General
Fremont, who had been the Republican candidate for President in
1856. At the beginning of the war he was given a command at St.
Louis and charged with the important duty of organizing the
military strength of the northwest, holding the State of Missouri
true to the Union, and leading an expedition down the Mississippi
River. Instead of accomplishing all that had been hoped for, his
pride of opinion and unwillingness to accept help or take advice
from those about him, caused serious embarrassment and made
unending trouble. The President's kindness and gentleness in
dealing with his faults were as marked as they were useless.

There was the long line of commanders who one after the other
tried and failed in the tasks allotted to them, while the country
waited and lost courage, and even Mr. Lincoln's heart sank. His
care and wisdom and sorrow dominated the whole long persistent
struggle. That first sleepless night of his after the battle of
Bull Run was but the beginning of many nights and days through
which he kept unceasing watch. From the time in June, 1861, when
he had been called upon to preside over the council of war that
decided upon the Bull Run campaign, he devoted every spare moment
to the study of such books upon the art of war as would aid him
in solving the questions that he must face as Commander-in-Chief
of the armies. With his quick mind and unusual power of logic he
made rapid progress in learning the fixed and accepted rules on
which all military writers agree. His mastery of the difficult
science became so thorough, and his understanding of military
situations so clear, that he has been called, by persons well
fitted to judge, "the ablest strategist of the war." Yet he never
thrust his knowledge upon his generals. He recognized that it was
their duty, not his, to fight the battles, and since this was so,
they ought to be allowed to fight them in their own way. He
followed their movements with keenest interest and with a most
astonishing amount of knowledge, giving a hint here, and a
suggestion there, when he felt that he properly could, but he
rarely gave a positive order.

There is not space to quote the many letters in which he showed
his military wisdom, or his kindly interest in the welfare and
success of the different generals. One of the most remarkable
must however be quoted. It is the letter he wrote to General
Joseph Hooker on placing him in command of the Army of the
Potomac in January, 1863, after McClellan's many failures had
been followed by the crushing defeat of the army under General
McClellan's successor, General Burnside, at the battle of
Fredericksburg, on December 13, 1862.

"I have placed you," he wrote on giving General Hooker the
command, "at the head of the Army of the Potomac. Of course I
have done this upon what appear to me to be sufficient reasons,
and yet I think it best for you to know that there are some
things in regard to which I am not quite satisfied with you. I
believe you to be a brave and skilful soldier, which, of course,
I like. I also believe you do not mix politics with your
profession, in which you are right. You have confidence in
yourself, which is a valuable, if not an indispensable quality.
You are ambitious, which, within reasonable bounds, does good
rather than harm; but I think that during General Burnside's
command of the army you have taken council of your ambition and
thwarted him as much as you could, in which you did a great wrong
to the country, and to a most meritorious and honorable brother
officer. I have heard, in such a way as to believe it, of your
recently saying that both the army and the Government needed a
dictator. Of course it was not for this, but in spite of it, that
I have given you the command. Only those generals who gain
successes can set up dictators. What I now ask of you is military
success, and I will risk the dictatorship. The government will
support you to the utmost of its ability, which is neither more
nor less than it has done and will do for all commanders. I much
fear that the spirit which you have aided to infuse into the
army, of criticising their commander and withholding confidence
from him, will now turn upon you. I shall assist you as far as I
can, to put it down. Neither you nor Napoleon, if he were alive
again, could get any good out of an army while such a spirit
prevails in it. And now, beware of rashness. Beware of rashness,
but with energy and sleepless vigilance go forward and give us
victories."

Perhaps no other piece of his writing shows as this does how
completely the genius of the President rose to the full height of
his duties and responsibilities. From beginning to end it speaks
the language and breathes the spirit of the great ruler, secure
in popular confidence and in official authority.

Though so many of the great battles during the first half of the
war were won by the Confederates, military successes came to the
North of course from time to time. With such fine armies and such
earnest generals the tide of battle could not be all one way; and
even when the generals made mistakes, the heroic fighting and
endurance of the soldiers and under-officers gathered honor out
of defeat, and shed the luster of renown over results of barren
failure. But it was a weary time, and the outlook was very dark.
The President never despaired. On the most dismal day of the
whole dismal summer of 1862 he sent Secretary Seward to New York
with a confidential letter full of courage, to be shown such of
the governors of free States as could be hastily summoned to meet
him there. In it he said: "I expect to maintain this contest
until successful, or till I die, or am conquered, or my term
expires, or Congress or the country forsake me," and he asked for
100,000 fresh volunteers with which to carry on the war. His
confidence was not misplaced. The governors of eighteen free
States offered him three times the number, and still other calls
for troops followed. Soon a popular song, "We are coming, Father
Abraham, three hundred thousand strong," showed the faith and
trust of the people in the man at the head of the Government, and
how cheerfully they met the great calls upon their patriotism.

So, week after week and month after month, he faced the future,
never betraying a fear that the Union would not triumph in the
end, but grieving sorely at the long delay. Many who were not so
sure came to him with their troubles. He was beset by night and
by day by people who had advice to give or complaints to make.
They besought him to dismiss this or that General, to order such
and such a military movement; to do a hundred things that he, in
his great wisdom, felt were not right, or for which the time had
not yet come. Above all, he was implored to take some decided and
far-reaching action upon slavery.