The indignation that rushed through Illinois when the first news from the Capitol forecast the repeal of the Missouri Compromise had not yet abated, when Douglas dauntlessly sought to explain his course of conduct in Chicago. He was howled down and denied liberty of speech. This naturally brought on a reaction. The contention that the distinguished senator had been struck before being heard, added martyrdom to his bold conduct.

As he wandered down the State closer to the home of ardent democracy, he was met with growing enthusiasm. His ingenious sophistry turned popular sovereignty into a seeming contest for a principle and Illinois was being carried away by his triumphant oratory and logic. There is little wonder that the man who breasted the storm of debate in the Senate should make headway in the land of his friends where office holders and supporters gloried in his fame and were elated when he chanted forth his alluring doctrine as a solution to political conditions.

His main effort was made at the State Fair in October, 1854, an occasion that called together the intelligence of Illinois in days when few occasions permitted the satisfaction of social life. Enhancing its importance, this political gathering was to mark the opening of the campaign to determine the selection of a Senator. The speech of Douglas was to be almost a national event. Upon him the hopes of the State democracy centered in the conditions following the late political tempest. Douglas was equal to the occasion and his friends rejoiced.

Lincoln had made such a profound impression at the time among the Whig orators, that he was chosen to bear the brunt of the reply to the "State Fair Speech" of the wily leader of the Democratic party. Lincoln surpassed every expectation. Neither side was prepared for the terrible onslaught. A new and dauntless advocate appeared giving power to the gathering protesting elements against the aggressive championship of Douglas. Herndon, himself, was thoroughly amazed, and tells us that the speaker quivered with emotion, that he felt upon his soul the truths burn which he uttered, that crushing with his logic the Nebraska bill he rent it into shreds and held it up to the scorn and the mockery of the crowds, that he took the heart captive and broke like a sun over the understanding.[279] In his reply Douglas was excited, and his voice loud and shrill. Lamon relates that shaking his forefinger at the democratic malcontents, and declaiming rather than debating, he occupied to little purpose the brief interval remaining until the adjournment for supper; that then, promising to resume his address in the evening, he went his way, and evening came but not the orator.[280]

While Lincoln was moving in the moral realm, still, at this very time, note must be taken of the politician in the valley. The enthusiasm that followed his baptismal oration had not calmed when Lovejoy announced a gathering that evening of the friends of freedom. The Nebraska movement fed the Abolitionists with abounding faith in a speedy triumph. With a rising sense of their strength, fairly "snuffing" the coming victory they looked for, Lovejoy and his associates hastened to command Lincoln's attendance at their meeting. Herndon vividly describes the occasion, saying that their plan was to induce Lincoln to speak for them, yet he doubted the propriety of Lincoln's taking any stand yet. Lincoln was ambitious to climb to the United States Senate, and on grounds of policy it would not do for him to occupy at that time such advance ground as they were taking. On the other hand, it was equally dangerous to refuse a speech for the Abolitionists. Herndon then hunted up Lincoln and urged him to avoid meeting the enthusiastic champion of Abolitionism. "Go home at once," he said. "Take Bob with you and drive somewhere into the country and stay till this thing is over." Lincoln under the pretense of having business in Tazewell County drove out of town in his buggy, and did not return until the apostles of Abolitionism had gone to their homes. Herndon believes that this arrangement saved Lincoln, for if he had endorsed the resolutions passed at the meeting, or spoken simply in favor of freedom that night, he would have been identified with all the rancor and extremes of Abolitionism, and if, on the contrary, he refused to take a position as advanced as theirs, he would have lost their support.[281]

Another incident told by the same writer makes it necessary ever to keep track of Lincoln, the wary politician: "One day I read in the Richmond Enquirer an article endorsing slavery, and arguing that from principle the enslavement of either whites or blacks was justifiable and right. I showed it to Lincoln, who remarked that it was 'rather rank doctrine for northern Democrats to endorse. I should like to see,' he said, with emphasis 'some of these Illinois newspapers champion that.' I told him if he would only wait and keep his own counsel I would have a pro-slavery organ in Springfield publish that very article. He doubted it, but when I told him how it was to be done, he laughed and said, 'Go in.' I cut the slip out and succeeded in getting it in the paper named. Of course it was a trick but it acted admirably. Its appearance in the new organ, although without comment, almost ruined that valuable journal, and my good natured friend the editor was nearly overcome by the denunciation of those who were responsible for the organ's existence. My connection and Lincoln's too,—for he endorsed the trick,—with the publication of the condemned article was eventually discovered, and we were thereafter effectually prevented from getting another line in the paper. The anti-slavery people quoted the article as having been endorsed by a democratic newspaper in Springfield and Lincoln himself used it with telling effect. He joined in the popular denunciation, expressing great astonishment that such a sentiment could find lodgment in any paper in Illinois, although he knew full well how the whole thing had been carried through."[282]

Lincoln was alive to the best methods of persuasion. He knew that men were the children of emotion and that while many would be calloused to the slavery of the black man, nothing would arouse the North quicker than this doctrine of the bondage of the white man. While slavery was making every effort to fasten its fangs on the nation, Lincoln was not averse to take advantage of a shrewd move to strike heavy blows at the potent institution.

He entered deeply into the contest. Lincoln knew that it involved the painful rending of party allegiance. His letter to Palmer sheds light on the intensity of the struggle, the heroism of the democratic minority whose loyalty to country and righteousness surpassed a deep-seated partisanship: "You are," he said, "and always have been, honestly and sincerely a Democrat; and I know how painful it must be to an honest sincere man to be urged by his party to the support of a measure, which in his conscience he believes to be wrong. You have had a severe struggle with yourself, and you have determined not to swallow the wrong. Is it just to yourself that you should, in a few public speeches, state your reasons, and thus justify yourself? I wish you could; and yet I say, 'Don't do it if you think it will injure you.'"[283]

Lincoln recognized that political progress is not alone the result of intellectual supremacy; that it is a painful struggle; that policy must be mingled with principle; that the world does not welcome the unadulterated gospel; that through the centuries, humanity has groped its way to the far light with eyes blinded by the superstition of ages and selfishness.

The moral prophet is seldom the political leader of his time. He stands above his age. The politician is part of it. One sees things as they should be, the other as they are. One is splendidly indifferent to results, the other keenly appreciative of them. Lincoln made no false step. Had he walked too fast for his day he might have been the Garrison of the West, but not the party guide. With sure instinct he felt that the time was not ripe for companionship with the Abolitionists. Illinois was not ready. If he was to continue his hold on public sentiment, to guide it, he could not flash the truth before the gaze of humanity. Despite the suffering of martyrs, the heroism of statesmen, the sacrifices of seekers of the truth, wrong was still "upon the throne," and "truth upon the scaffold," the world was not slow in crucifying its heroes of speech and deed. Lincoln recognized the weaknesses of men, the shortcomings of human nature, the superstition of centuries. He was content with slow progress, uncowed by disappointment, and realized that the grumbling world emancipated its heart and mind slowly.

Under the spell of the State Fair speech, Whig leaders earnestly besought Lincoln to follow Douglas up until election.[284] So again at Peoria, Lincoln broke forth in impassioned utterances that took captive the judgment. His logic throbbed with passion for freedom, for liberty and emancipation. He lifted his hearers above the jangling of everyday life, above the mists of hate, of jealousy, of selfishness, into a region of the brotherhood of man. Unlike his speech at Springfield, this was written out. It demonstrates that his supremacy among the eminent leaders of Illinois was not a matter of the choice of the hour.

With marvelous power of directness, he plotted out the line of discussion. He made much of the fact that the Fathers of the Republic regarded slavery as an evil worthy of restriction and looked forward to the day of its ultimate abolition, saying that as the subject was no other than part of the larger question of domestic slavery, he wished to make the distinction between the existing institution and the extension of it so clear that no honest man could misunderstand him, and no dishonest man could successfully misrepresent him.[285]

With telling effect he quoted the words of Douglas himself as to the sincere observance of the Missouri Compromise that put a barrier in the way of the progress of slavery: "It had its origin," said Douglas, "in the hearts of all patriotic men, who desired to preserve and perpetuate the blessings of our glorious Union—an origin akin to that of the Constitution of the United States, conceived in the same spirit of fraternal affection, and calculated to remove forever the only danger which seemed to threaten, at some distant day, to sever the social bond of Union. All the evidences of public opinion of that day seemed to indicate that this Compromise had been canonized in the hearts of the American people, as a sacred thing which no ruthless hand would ever be reckless enough to disturb."[286] His comment on this unanswerable statement of Douglas is significant of the nature of Lincoln's peculiar fairness and consequent strength. Lincoln said that he did not read the extract to involve Judge Douglas in an inconsistency, for if he afterward thought he was wrong, it was right for him to change, but he brought it forward merely to show the high estimate placed on the Missouri Compromise by all parties up to so late as the year 1849.[287]

In the North and South passion had unloosed its tongue and crimination and recrimination were daily becoming steady servants in debate and discussion on the slavery question. With it all, Lincoln calmly sat in judgment.

"Before proceeding let me say that I think I have no prejudices against the Southern people. They are just what we would be in their situation. If slavery did not now exist between them, they would not introduce it. If it did now exist among us, we should not instantly give it up. This I believe of the masses North and South.... When Southern people tell us they are no more responsible for the origin of slavery than we are, I acknowledge the fact. When it is said that the institution exists, and that it is very difficult to get rid of it in any satisfactory way, I can understand and appreciate the same. I surely will not blame them for not doing what I should not know how to do myself. If all earthly power were given me, I should not know what to do as to the existing institution. My first impulse would be to free all the slaves, and send them to Liberia, to their own native land. But a moment's reflection would convince me that whatever of high hope (as I think there is) there may be in this in the long run, its sudden execution is impossible—what then? Free them all, and keep them among us as underlings? Is it quite certain that this betters their condition? I think I would not hold one in slavery at any rate, yet the point is not clear enough for me to denounce people upon. What next? Free them and make them politically and socially our equals? My own feelings will not admit of this, and if mine would, we well know that those of the great mass of whites will not. Whether this feeling accords with justice and sound judgment is not the sole question, if indeed it is any part of it. A universal feeling, whether well or ill founded, cannot be safely disregarded. We cannot make them equals. It does seem to me that systems of gradual emancipation might be adopted, but for their tardiness in this I will not undertake to judge our brethren of the South.

"When they remind us of their constitutional rights, I acknowledge them—not grudgingly, but fully and fairly; and I would give them any legislation for the reclaiming of their fugitives which should not in its stringency be more likely to carry a free man into slavery than our ordinary criminal laws are to hang an innocent one.

"But all this, to my judgment, furnishes no more excuse for permitting slavery to go into our free territory than it would for reviving the African slave-trade by law. The law which forbids the bringing of slaves from Africa, and that which has so long forbidden the taking of them into Nebraska, can hardly be distinguished on any moral principle, and the repeal of the former could find quite as plausible excuses as that of the latter."[288]

In the domain of literature on the slavery question there is no statement that surpasses this in charity, sanity and wisdom. With his overflowing hatred to slavery, he still kept justice as his guide and was slow to blame the South for the long standing sin. In this he towers above the Abolitionists who put upon the slave holders the burdens of a past as well as a present wrong. Yet unlike the politician he did not lose his ideal and become palsied and apologetic. He saw the need of keeping alive the principles of the Republic. Hastening the coming of the better humanity, with patience for human shortcoming, with zeal for the triumph of emancipation, he continued in his peculiar, lonely and potent way the advocacy of justice to God's dusky children.

In the Senate Douglas with triumphant eloquence charged Seward and Sumner and the North with having repudiated the Missouri Compromise through the Wilmot Proviso and the measures of 1850. Anti-slavery leaders in the Senate were confounded by this sudden charge and grandiloquent accusation. Lincoln took up the challenge and met the arrogant claim of Douglas without flinching. His analysis exposed the glittering sophistry of the man who enraptured the Northern statesmen in the solemn Senate. He not only held his ground in the face of the brilliant strategy of his opponent, but even carried the war into the camp of the foe.

He argued that the contention of Douglas that the North repudiated the Missouri Compromise was no less absurd than it would be to argue that because they had so far forborne to acquire Cuba, they would have thereby, in principle, repudiated former acquisitions and determined to throw them out of the Union; that it was no less absurd than it would be to say that because he may have refused to build an addition to his house, he thereby decided to destroy the existing house.This speech abounds in plain, hard English, travelling direct to the intellect on a straight line. No labored argument could be half as sure of a welcome to the human mind as his graphic exposal of the injustice of the repeal of the Missouri Compromise: "After an angry and dangerous controversy, the parties made friends by dividing the bone of contention. The one party first appropriates its own share, beyond all power to be disturbed in the possession of it, and then seizes the share of the other party. It is as if two starving men had divided their own loaf; the one had hastily swallowed his half, and then grabbed the other's half just as he was putting it to his mouth."[289]

In nothing did Douglas show greater genius than in hallowing his doctrine of popular sovereignty. The leaders in Congress feared openly to fight his vaunted "sacred right of self government," they were not sure of their ground. Lincoln with confidence, born of lonely struggle, rushed on the angry battlefield to run the gantlet of debate on the conquering doctrine of popular sovereignty: "When the white man," he said, "governs himself, that is self-government, but when he governs himself and also governs another man, that is more than self government—that is despotism. If the negro is a man, why then my ancient faith teaches me that 'all men are created equal,' and that there can be no moral right in connection with one man's making a slave of another.

"Judge Douglas frequently, with bitter irony and sarcasm, paraphrases our argument by saying: 'The white people of Nebraska are good enough to govern themselves, but they are not good enough to govern a few miserable negroes!' Well! I doubt not that the people of Nebraska are and will continue to be as good as the average of people elsewhere. I do not say the contrary. What I do say is that no man is good enough to govern another man without that other's consent."[290] In a single weighty phrase he crushed the elaborate argument of the Senator of Illinois and left its fair form so that only a shattered frame remains.

At times he spoke like a seer lifted above the petty prejudices of the time. He declared that the spirit of mutual concession—that first wrought the Constitution, and thrice saved the Union—and that trust in a national compromise, would thus be strangled; that the South flushed with triumph would provoke and aggress, and the North, brooding on wrong, would resent and retaliate. He alleged that already a few in the North defied all constitutional restraint, and even menaced the institution of slavery in the southern States; that already a few in the South claimed the constitutional right to hold slaves in the free States and demanded the revival of the slave trade. That it was a grave question for lovers of the Union whether the final destruction of the Missouri Compromise, and with it the spirit of all compromise, would not fatally increase the number of both.[291]

His sanity enabled him to guide the erring and confounded in the days of doubt. "Some men," he said, "mostly Whigs, who condemn the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, nevertheless hesitate to go for its restoration, lest they be thrown in company with the Abolitionists. Will they allow me, as an old Whig, to tell them, good humoredly, that I think this is very silly? Stand with anybody that stands right. Stand with him while he is right, and part with him when he goes wrong. Stand with the Abolitionists in restoring the Missouri Compromise, and stand against him when he attempts to repeal the fugitive slave law. In the latter case you stand with the Southern disunionist. What of that? You are still right. In both cases you are right. In both cases you expose the dangerous extremes. In both you stand on middle ground, and hold the ship level and steady."[292]

Above all, this speech will live for its moral intensity, hatred of injustice and hunger for righteousness. Throughout this long appeal and uniting its links of logic is an overpowering and pervasive sentiment of the highest humanity. Now and then an outburst against oppression comes forth resistlessly, yet in the company of a sober expression, logical intensity and a broad outlook peculiar to him. These rival the most impassioned utterances of Phillips and Garrison. Like O'Connell, he sent his voice "careering like the thunderstorm against the breeze, to tell the slaveholders of the Carolinas that God's thunderbolts are hot, and to remind the bondman that the dawn of his redemption is already breaking."[293]

With elation he passed from the sordidness and the turmoil of the courtroom and daily pettiness of common political controversy to the championship of an all-mastering principle. He fed the "parched souls of men with celestial anodyne," with visions of a new and nobler era of humanity. He made the humblest voter a public participant in the high service of ridding the nation of the shame of slavery. He was educating American democracy to practice the principles of the Declaration of Independence, restoring to life seemingly dead doctrines of the fathers. Better than a course in ethics was the uplift of his utterances, the call to higher attitudes.

He declared his hate in ringing words, of the indifference to, if not covert zeal for, the spread of slavery, of depriving the Republic of its just influence in the world, of enabling the enemies of Democracy to engage in the taunt of hypocrisy, of forcing so many men into open war with the fundamental principles of civil liberty, criticising the Declaration of Independence and insisting that there was no right principle but self interest.[294]

In measured language befitting his solemn theme, Lincoln continued his prophetic condemnation of slavery, charging that, steadily as man's march to the grave, the people were giving up the old for the new faith; that they had run down from the declaration that all men were created equal to the declaration that the enslavement of some was a sacred right of self government. He dwelt upon the statement of Pettit that the Declaration of Independence was a "self evident lie" and said that Pettit did what candor required, and that of forty-odd Nebraska senators who listened, no one rebuked him; and asked if that had been said among Marion's men, Southerners though they were, what would have become of the man that said it? He added that if it had been said in old Independence Hall seventy-eight years before, the very doorkeeper would have throttled the man and thrust him into the street.[295]

The day after the Peoria speech, Douglas told Lincoln that he understood the Territorial question better than all the opposition in the Senate, and declared that Lincoln had given him more trouble than his combined antagonists in Congress. Then Douglas proposed that he would speak no more during the campaign if Lincoln would do the same, and to that proposition Lincoln acceded.[296] So though a speech by Douglas and Lincoln had been advertised for the following day, Mr. Douglas said that he was too hoarse to speak, and Lincoln declared that he would not take advantage of the judge's indisposition, by addressing the people. His friends could not see the affair in the same light, and they "pressed him for a speech," but Lincoln mysteriously and unaccountably refused.[297]

Wisely did shrewd Douglas, the imperial leader in debate, appeal to the generosity of his opponent to conclude further controversy. Douglas was an over-match for all of the radical Abolitionists, the men who spoke of the higher law, who made war on the charter of American liberties. His better nature rejoiced in such conflicts. But his genius was rebuked in the presence of the plain product of the West, the man who neither relinquished his confidence in the Constitution nor yet in the ultimate triumph of the freedom that first gave it its being. Douglas could wage triumphant war on a Lovejoy and Chase, but the common logic and simple honesty of Lincoln disconcerted him. The elaborate oratory of the Senate never confused the Senator of Illinois. For the first time in his career the national leader was worried and perplexed. He was neither used to nor prepared for the combination of talent that could not be diverted from its way, that met every movement with a baffling complacency. There was something unanswerable in Lincoln's manner and mode of discussion. Douglas could fight other men at a distance, but this opponent made it a hand-to-hand grapple. At length a man had arisen in the American arena as skillful in defense of freedom as other men were in that of slavery. An orator had come who combined the solidity of Webster, the moral fervor of Phillips, and the logic of Calhoun; who mingled justice, patriotism and argument so as to astonish the foremost figure in Washington. It was no idle sentiment that brought Douglas to tender his rival the high tribute of a truce.

The Peoria and State Fair speeches created a supreme place for Lincoln in the anti-slavery movement. He was looked to as likely to gather great strength in the transitional period of party dissolution. A dominating passion for place again took hold of him. He declared he prized a full term in the Senate more than the Presidency. To advance local political conditions Lincoln was unwisely made a candidate, in his absence, for the State Legislature that would soon elect a Senator. Mrs. Lincoln, however, had Lincoln's name taken off the list of candidates. When Mr. Lincoln returned, "I went to see him," says Jayne, "in order to get his consent to run. That was at his house. He was then the saddest man I ever saw,—the gloomiest. He walked up and down the floor, almost crying; and to all my persuasions to let his name stand in the paper, he said, 'No, I can't. You don't know all. I say you don't begin to know one-half, and that's enough!' I did, however, go and have his name reinstated." After election Lincoln resigned and by a "still hunt" a Democrat was elected in his stead. The interference of Mrs. Lincoln, the loss of a vote in the approaching close contest, according to Jayne, angered the people of Sangamon County so that for the time being they hated him.[H]

Lincoln managed his senatorial campaign with adroitness. Herndon shows that Lincoln did not calmly sit down and gather his robes around him, waiting for the people to call him. The vicissitudes of a political campaign brought into play his management, and developed to its fullest extent his latent industry. Like other politicians he never overlooked a newspaper man who had it in his power to say a good or bad thing of him. Writing to the editor of an obscure little country newspaper that he had been reading his paper for three or four years and had paid him nothing for it, he enclosed $10.00 and admonished the editor with complacency to put it into his pocket and say nothing further about it. Very soon thereafter Lincoln prepared a political article and sent it to the rural journalist, requesting its publication in the editorial columns of his valued paper. The latter, having followed Lincoln's directions, declined saying that he long ago made it a rule to publish nothing as editorial matter not written by himself. Lincoln read the editor's answer to Herndon, who remarks that although the laugh was on Lincoln the latter enjoyed the joke heartily, and said that that editor had a lofty but proper conception of true journalism.[298]

His correspondence shows that he was in constant contact with the ever shifting events of the campaign; that he was on the lookout for dangerous symptoms; that he was careful to nicety to measure his strength soberly, and displayed the same splendid generalship that distinguished him in his Congressional canvass. The history of his effort to gain a seat in the Senate may be well trailed in his own letters. A curt and crisp note advised his friends of his intention. The following is a sample of many: "You used to express a good deal of partiality for me, and if you are still so, now is the time. Some friends here are really for me, for the U. S. Senate, and I should be very grateful if you could make a mark for me among your members. Please write to me at all events giving me the name, postoffices and 'political position' of members around about you."[299]

Lovejoy had only some twenty-five adherents at the convention following the "State Fair speech" of Lincoln. Nothing daunted by the paltry attendance, they adopted a bold platform. "Ichabod raved," said the Democratic organ in derision, "and Lovejoy swelled, and all endorsed the sentiments of that speech." Not content with this, without consent or consultation, they placed Lincoln's name on the list of their State Central Committee.[300] Lincoln's reply shows that he was not unwilling to confer with the abolition leaders and that he deemed it well to keep the way open to an understanding. "I suppose my opposition to the principle of slavery is as strong as that of any member of the Republican party; but I have also supposed that the extent to which I feel authorized to carry that opposition, practically, was not at all satisfactory to that party. The leading men who organized that party were present on the fourth of October at the discussion between Douglas and myself at Springfield, and had full opportunity to not misunderstand my position. Do I misunderstand them? Please write and inform me."[301]

Like other candidates for public office he was subjected to all manner of hostility and opposition. He was not spared the humility of defending his most cherished integrity. Lincoln was not a common egoist and he sparingly bared his view. He was little trained in the easy language of self-praise. Yet once across the bar he displayed rare skill in the presentation of his position.

"For a senator to be the impartial representative of his whole State is so plain a duty that I pledge myself to the observance of it without hesitation, but not without some mortification that any one should suspect me of an inclination to the contrary. I was eight years a representative of Sangamon County in the legislature; and although in a conflict of interest between that and other counties it perhaps would have been my duty to stick to old Sangamon, yet it is not within my recollection that the northern members ever wanted my vote for any interests of theirs without getting it."[302]

Self interest in the campaign did not once lead him astray in partial judgment of the course of events. Early in January he informed Washburne that he did not know that it was of much advantage to have the largest number of votes at the start; that if he did know it to be an advantage, he should feel better, for he had more committals than any other man.[303] He remained a master in the study of the attitude of the individual voter and delegate. He not only had the enthusiasm of the orator, but also the keen, calm sense of the politician, knowing that battles are largely won by strategy and plan. He did not leave the decision to chance. He studied the way to reach men, the method of attaching and calling friends. He was methodical rather than brilliant.

His last letter dealing with the event opens with the statement that the agony was over at last. He then unfolded the story of his defeat, how his forty-seven adherents yielded to the five of Trumbull, how Governor Matteson by a secret candidacy gathered some anti-Nebraska men to his support; how five of the latter declared they would never vote for a Whig and twenty Whigs resentfully contended that they would not vote for the man of the five. He then stated that the signal was given to the Nebraska men to turn to Matteson on the seventh ballot; that soon he only wanted three of an election; that to detain the bolters Lincoln's friends turned to Trumbull until he had risen to thirty-five and he, Lincoln, had been reduced to fifteen; that they would never desert him except by direction; that he then determined to strike at once and accordingly advised the fifteen to go for Trumbull and thus elected him on the tenth ballot.

"Such is the way," said Lincoln, "the thing was done. I think you would have done the same under the circumstances; though Judge Davis, who came down this morning, declares he never would have consented to the forty-seven being controlled by the five. I regret my defeat moderately, but I am not nervous about it. I could have headed off every combination and been elected, had it not been for Matteson's double game—and his defeat now gives me more pleasure than my own gives me pain. On the whole, it is perhaps as well for our general cause that Trumbull is elected. The Nebraska men confess that they hate it worse than anything that could have happened. It is a great consolation to see them worse whipped than I am."[304]

Here a composite Lincoln confronts the student—a politician much concerned over defeat and getting pleasure out of the failure of an unfair opponent. Yet at the same time another Lincoln reveals himself. Determined to run no risk in the cause of freedom he yielded cherished hopes and gave way to an obstinate minority. He would not allow his own fortune to stand in the way of striking a blow at the slave power. Lincoln emancipated himself from selfish egoism, rising in the hour of disappointment to the calmness of duty.