CHAPTER XVII.

FROM SPRINGFIELD TO WASHINGTON.

Lincoln's Farewell to His Fellow-Townsmen-Prayers for the President-Elect-Rush of the People to See Him-A Series of Remarkable Speeches-Why the President Would Wear a BeardRumors of Assassination - The Night Journey from Harrisburg to the Capital.

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On the 11th of February, 1861, Lincoln, accom

panied by his family and a few personal friends, left his modest and happy home in Springfield for the national capital. No man can know what sad forebodings, what thoughts of possible disaster to him, to his country, and to his beloved family may have oppressed his mind, as he looked for the last time on the familiar scenes of his Illinois home. Already threats of assassination had been whispered abroad, and it had been boasted by the enemies of the Union that Lincoln would never reach Washington alive. And, in any case, the certain approach of war was now a matter weighing on every heart, and the man who was to conduct the affairs of the nation, under God, was bowed down with this great anxiety as he bade farewell to his fellowtownsmen. As if conscious that this was indeed a last parting, his voice trembled and his eyes were suffused with moisture as he spoke from the platform

of the railway train these beautiful words, breathing a spirit of Christian trust and manly affection for his friends and neighbors:

"My friends, no one not in my situation can appreciate my feelings of sadness at this parting. To this place, and the kindness of these people, I owe everything. Here I have lived a quarter of a century, and have passed from a young to an old man. Here my children have been born, and one is buried. I now leave, not knowing when or whether ever I may return, with a task before me greater than that which rested upon Washington. Without the assistance of that Divine Being who ever attended him, I cannot succeed. With that assistance, I cannot fail. Trusting in Him, who can go with me, and remain with you, and be everywhere for good, let us confidently hope that all will yet be well. To His care commending you, as I hope in your prayers you will commend me, I bid you an affectionate farewell."

It is good to remember that this last request of Lincoln of his neighbors and townsmen was heeded. From that day to the dark hour when his earthly remains were brought back to be laid in the earth, from innumerable homes went up the daily prayer for the President of the United States in his sore need. And not only from the people of Illinois, who loved this man so well, but from every nook and corner of the land of liberty and freedom, were the petitions of faithful Christian men and women offered continually for him, for his counsellors, and all others in authority.

Passing from Illinois, on his way to the national

capital, Lincoln traversed the States of Indiana, Ohio, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Maryland. Enthusiasm and curiosity combined to draw prodigious crowds to the stations through which Lincoln's train passed, or stopped. The outpouring of the people was something unprecedented. The crowds continually called for a speech. They could not understand why Lincoln, the master orator of the West, should not make haste to reply to their demand for a speech. He was reluctant to break his rule not to outline any part of his future policy. But the burning questions of the hour would not be evaded; and, if he spoke at all, he must needs touch on some of these. At Indianapolis, where he was greeted with great acclamation, and was escorted to his hotel by a procession of the members of the Legislature of the State, he broke his rule, and said a few words about "invasion" and "coercion." At that time these phrases were on every man's lips. The South and its friends in the North were very much exercised at the suggestion that the North, that is to say, the Government of the United States, would "invade" the States that had seceded, for the purpose of maintaining the authority of the United States. It had been expressly declared by those who were President Buchanan's legal advisers that it was neither lawful, nor constitutional, nor possible, for the Government of the United States to "coerce" any State that chose to leave the Union. The professed friends of peace and union rang the changes on these two words. Coercion, they said, was wrong, and the invasion of a State was

unconstitutional and wicked, even treasonable. Lincoln said:

"What, then, is 'coercion'? What is 'invasion'? Would the marching of an army into South Carolina, without the consent of her people, and with hostile intent toward them, be invasion? I certainly think it would, and it would be coercion also if the South Carolinians were forced to submit. But if the United States should merely hold and retake its own forts and other property, and collect the duties on foreign importations, or even withhold the mails from places where they were habitually violated, would any or all of these things be invasion or coercion? Upon what principle, what rightful principle, may a State, being no more than one-fiftieth part of the nation in soil and population, break up the nation, and then coerce a proportionably larger subdivision of itself in the same way?"

It will be noticed that Lincoln asserted nothing. He asked these questions and left them for the people to think about. This was one of his favorite methods of putting a case. He made no arrogant assertions, no "thus-saith-the-Lord" declarations. He preferred, whenever that was possible, to leave the case with the people to decide for themselves, having first cleared the ground by asking a few weighty questions. At other points, Lincoln was called upon to address the throngs that pressed to see him, to hear his voice. It was contrary to his nature to disappoint them; and, although he made no more remarks like those at Indianapolis to indicate what his public policy might be, he responded whenever the

time allowed him. Thus at Lawrenceburgh, Indiana, he said, in the course of a very brief speech:

"Let me tell you that if the people remain right, your public men can never betray you. If, in my brief term of office, I shall be wicked or foolish, if you remain right and true and honest, you cannot be betrayed. My power is temporary and fleeting; yours as eternal as the principles of liberty.”

At Cincinnati, the great city of Ohio, the populace went wild with enthusiasm. Nothing like it had ever before been seen in the beautiful and easilymoved "Queen City of the West," as its people are proud to call their home. Lincoln was almost bodily carried to his hotel, so vast was the pressure of the wave of people that surged in volumes through the gayly decorated streets. At night the buildings were illuminated, and the city wore a festal appearance while the party tarried. Lincoln made a little speech full of good feeling; and, as he was now on the borders of Kentucky, a slave State, in which were not a few who longed to take the State out of the Union, he addressed himself to Kentuckians, his oldtime friends, with peculiar warmth and tenderness. Referring to the words that he had used when speaking to the South aforetime, he said: "Fellowcitizens of Kentucky-may I call you such? In my new position I see no occasion, and I feel no inclination, to retract a word of this. If it shall not be made good, be assured that the fault will not be mine." In this way, making an enthusiastic progress, but constantly pleading for peace, good-will,