Chapter 11: “I Am Now Public Property”

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Imagine stepping into the highest office, but not in some moment of triumph.

Your nation is actively like tearing itself apart.

Your journey to the capital is filled with real danger and then once you get there, the very first team you have to build, it's made up of the fiercest rivals who just tried to defeat you.

It's almost unbelievable, isn't it?

Yeah.

But that's the reality Abraham Lincoln faced in early 1861.

It was an impossible situation really.

A test few leaders ever have to confront.

Right.

He wasn't just inheriting a presidency, he was inheriting a country literally fracturing, hurtling towards civil war.

The stakes just couldn't have been higher.

Everything was on the line.

Absolutely.

So today we're going to do a deep dive into that incredibly tense period.

We'll trace Lincoln's precarious path from his quiet farewell in Springfield, Illinois, all the way to his arrival in Washington, D .C.

And focusing on that immediate huge challenge, forming his cabinet, that famous team of rivals.

Exactly.

Our mission here is to explore how Lincoln's, well, his strategic genius and his unwavering principles were put to the test right out of the gate.

Their first most critical test, really.

And what that revealed about the man who would have to lead America through its absolute darkest hour.

Okay, let's unpack this.

Our story starts in Springfield.

The weight of the presidency is already pressing down, you can feel it.

While Lincoln is wrestling with, you know, the nation's fate, his wife Mary, she's facing her own intense pressures, both public and personal.

Right.

She'd gone off to New York.

Ostensibly, it was to visit their son, Robert.

But really, it was also this crucial shopping spree.

Yeah, she needed a wardrobe fit for a first lady, didn't she?

She did.

But Mary's extravagant spree, as some called it, wasn't just vanity.

It was kind of a defiant statement.

Oh, so.

Well, she knew about the whispers, right?

About her plain looks, her husband's supposed lack of breeding.

The Eastern establishment was genuinely worried his Western goshery would the nation.

Wow, that's harsh.

Incredibly.

So her determination to get these elegant clothes was partly this, you know, personal battle against that prejudice.

A way of saying the West demanded respect.

And talk about a chilling sign of the times.

Before she even left for New York, Mary got this absolutely gruesome painting sent from South Carolina.

Oh, yeah, that was horrific.

It depicted Lincoln with a rope around his neck, feet chained, body covered in tar and feathers.

Just awful.

And given her known fears about death and danger, that must have been utterly terrifying for her.

Absolutely terrifying.

Meanwhile, back in Springfield, while Mary's dealing with that, Lincoln himself is struggling just to write his inaugural address.

Couldn't find any peace, right?

None.

Not at home, not in the governor's office.

There was this constant stream of office seekers, people wanting jobs, wanting favors.

He had to sneak off.

Pretty much.

He had to find isolated spots each morning just to carefully craft the words that everyone,

conciliators, hardliners, everyone was anxiously waiting for.

It really shows the incredible relentless pressure he was under before he even took the oath.

Definitely.

And as departure day got closer, people described Lincoln as unusually grave and reflective.

He made some emotional farewells too, didn't he?

He did.

A journey to Farmington to say goodbye to his stepmother, Sarah, whom he loved dearly.

Then he visited his father's grave.

And that moment with his law partner, Billy Herndon.

Oh yeah, really poignant.

He promised Herndon he'd come back to their law practice as if nothing had ever happened.

Wow.

Like a glimpse into the man still holding onto a piece of his old life, even as he's about to change history.

It speaks volumes, doesn't it, about his connection to his roots.

But of course, that old life was basically over.

So after those personal goodbyes, the public farewell arrives.

February 11th.

You picture that scene.

Damp, biting cold day at the Western Railroad Depot.

Over a thousand people gathered.

Watching Lincoln, apparently pale and visibly quivering, deliver the short, iconic farewell address.

He spoke of his sadness owing everything to Springfield.

And then that line.

No one, not in my situation, can appreciate my feeling of sadness at this time.

I now leave, not knowing when or whether ever I may return, with a task before me greater than that which rested upon Washington.

Just think about that.

Greater than Washington.

The weight of that statement.

And the contrast happening at the exact same time is just incredible.

Right.

As Lincoln's saying this solemn farewell, Jefferson Davis is starting his own journey.

To Montgomery, Alabama.

To be inaugurated as President of the New Confederacy.

And he's met with cheers from thousands.

It sets up this immediate national level rivalry that's going to define everything.

So the train pulls away from Springfield.

Lincoln's carrying this immense weight.

And initially he's described as being pretty downright in a state of despondency.

Deeply despondent, yeah.

But then something started to shift as the journey went on.

What happened?

The public reaction.

The outpouring of support along the route.

The cheers, the cannon, and the general intensity of welcome.

So the crowds lifted his spirits.

They did more than that, really.

It wasn't just a mood booster.

It served as this vital, real -time pulse of the union's feeling, reminding him who he was fighting for.

That public engagement was key then.

His first big public speech since the election in Indianapolis at the Bates House.

That was a master class in careful language, wasn't it?

Especially on coercion.

Oh, absolutely.

He was laying crucial groundwork there.

He argued that the government simply holding its own forts or retaking those forts which belonged to it, that wasn't coercion.

How did he explain that?

He used this brilliant, really relatable analogy.

He said if those acts were coercion, then the union as a family relation would not be anything like a regular marriage at all, but only as a sort of free love arrangement.

Huh.

That's great.

Simple, effective.

Exactly.

It let him define the union's legitimate actions without explicitly threatening the seceded states.

And it worked.

Got loud cheers, set an important tone.

But for the rest of the trip, he mostly stayed strategically quiet on specifics, didn't he?

Kept an optimistic tone, tried not to inflame things.

Right.

He didn't want to preempt his inaugural address.

But this silence, this reticence, it led to some big misunderstandings.

Yeah.

Critics like Charles Francis Adams were worried they thought maybe we've drawn a blank with Lincoln,

saw him as unconscious of his own position.

But they were missing the nuance, weren't they?

His private secretary, John Nicolet, saw it differently.

What did Nicolet say?

He observed that beneath the calm surface, Lincoln's carefully chosen sentences were packed with shades of meaning.

He knew Lincoln was profoundly alive to the trials and dangers.

Any examples of that subtle strength?

Yeah.

The speech in Trenton is a powerful one.

He made this striking physical gesture.

He asserted it might be necessary to put the foot down firmly.

And he actually?

He actually pressed his foot to the floor as he said it.

The crowd apparently erupted.

They got it.

It was Lincoln showing resolve without using fighting words.

Communicating strength subtly.

Precisely.

And that subtle strength, that moral core really shown through in Philadelphia at Independence Hall.

Ah, yes.

That speech connected the union directly back the Declaration of Independence.

Exactly.

He emphasized his promise to lift the weights from the shoulders of all men, ensuring all should have an equal chance.

This was his bedrock principle.

And then came that incredibly dramatic declaration.

Yeah.

He said if the union cannot be saved without giving up that principle, he would rather be assassinated on the spot than to surrender it.

Wow.

Choosing potential assassination over compromising the core ideal of the nation.

It was a profound statement of commitment.

But here's the chilling part.

Juan.

That mention of assassination.

It wasn't just rhetoric.

There was already a very real threat.

You mean the Baltimore plot?

Exactly.

He'd already received credible warnings about a plot to kill him in Baltimore, a city known for its southern sympathizers.

All warned him.

Two separate channels, actually.

Detective Alan Pinkerton, who was hired to guard him, uncovered details.

And simultaneously, Fred Seward arrived with a warning from General Winfield Scott in Washington.

Same chilling message.

So the president -elect is literally walking into the crosshairs.

Pretty much.

And Lincoln's initial reaction tells you a lot about him.

He refused to change his plans.

Flatly refused.

He insisted on fulfilling his public duties, like raising the flag over Independence Hall the next morning.

Public duty came before personal safety initially.

But eventually they convinced him.

They did.

The evidence is just too strong.

So he agreed to take precautions.

He secretly boarded a night train from Harrisburg.

And famously didn't wear his usual stovepipe hat.

Right.

Or a soft felt hat instead.

Accompanied only by his friend Ward Lamont and Pinkerton himself.

And they cut the telegraph wires between Harrisburg and Washington as an extra measure.

A clandestine operation.

Necessary for security, you'd think.

Absolutely necessary.

He arrived safely in Washington around 3 .30 a .m.

But

it turned into a PR nightmare.

Yeah, the perception really overshadowed the reality, didn't it?

Totally.

It became this inauspicious beginning.

Critics jumped all over it.

People like Edwin Stanton, who would later be his Secretary of War, ironically maliciously claimed Lincoln had crept into Washington.

And they used that ridiculous imagery.

Oh, yeah.

The Scotch plaid cap Scottish kilt story.

Complete fabrication designed to make him look undignified absurd, especially to the East Coast elite.

So this necessary safety measure actually damaged his moral position, as they put it.

It did in the eyes of many.

And Lincoln himself apparently regretted taking the advice later on.

So he arrives in D .C.

under this cloud.

Where does he stay?

He made a smart move there.

Instead of accepting private homes, he chose the Willard Hotel.

He saw it as public property, a place where people could actually access him.

And that's where he meets William Seward.

Yes.

Seward apparently put on quite the virtuoso performance immediately trying to sort of manage Lincoln, make himself indispensable.

Not everyone was impressed with the new arrivals, though.

Definitely not.

Harriet Lane, President Buchanan's niece, who was the White House host as then, made some pretty uncharitable comments,

likened Lincoln to an awkward Irishman called Mary, awfully Western, loud and unrefined.

Ouch.

Reflects that East Coast snobbery towards the rail for sure.

But Lincoln didn't have time to worry about social niceties.

He had the monumental task ahead,

forming his cabinet, his first huge test of leadership, balancing factions, rewarding allies and the big one, bringing in his major rivals.

He tried initially to get a southern unionist, someone like John Gilmer from North Carolina, hoping to keep the border states loyal.

But that didn't work out.

Now, the divisions were already too deep.

It underscored just how far things had gone even before he took office.

OK, so let's talk about the actual cabinet building, the Simon Cameron controversy for the War Department.

How did Lincoln handle that?

Seward warned him off Cameron, right?

He did.

Seward warned about Cameron's reputation, his army of friends, the potential embarrassment Cameron had faced charges before.

And he initially wanted the Treasury job.

Which Lincoln had already earmarked for Chase.

Exactly.

But a powerful delegation from Pennsylvania pushed hard for Cameron.

Lincoln, being pragmatic,

understood he needed Pennsylvania support.

He needed to unify different parts of the party.

So he brought Cameron in despite the baggage.

Yes.

Cameron grudgingly accepted the War Department.

It showed Lincoln was willing to make difficult compromises for political necessity, for unity.

Then there were the Blairs, Francis Senior and Montgomery, powerful figures.

A real political clan.

And they were hardliners.

They didn't work.

Montgomery Blair thought only a decisive defeat would convince Southerners they couldn't win, dismissing the idea that one Southern man is equal to half a dozen Yankees.

So they were totally opposed to Seward's more conciliatory approach.

Completely.

And Lincoln knew he needed that tension, that balance.

He needed the hardline perspective to counter Seward's instinct to compromise.

It wasn't just about the big names either.

Like with Caleb Smith for Interior.

Right.

Chosen over Sylar Colfax, based on the idea it was now or never for Smith.

Or handling Norman Judd, who Mary Lincoln and David Davis didn't want to adduce.

Lincoln smartly offered him a key ministry post in Berlin.

Rewarded an ally, managed dissent, kept the cabinet spot open.

And getting wells for the Navy.

Another hardliner from New England, chosen despite Seward's objections.

Again, Lincoln ensuring that balance of viewpoints.

But the absolute core of this whole cabinet struggle, the ultimate test, was Seward versus Chase.

William H.

Seward for State, Salmon P.

Chase for Treasury.

Lincoln was absolutely determined to have both.

Even though their supporters basically hated each other.

It sounds incredibly risky.

Hugely risky.

And Seward tested him immediately.

He dramatically withdrew his acceptance of the Secretary of State position.

Trying to force Lincoln's hand.

Make him drop Chase.

Exactly.

It was a power play.

A bluff.

Trying to establish dominance from the start.

But Lincoln didn't blink.

Not for a second.

With masterful calm, he refused to be swayed.

He wrote back, basically saying the public interest in his own personal feelings demanded Seward take back the withdrawal.

He called his bluff.

Asserting his authority right away.

Absolutely.

Seward had to back down.

He tried to frame it as a noble sacrifice for a distracted country.

But really, his attempt to dictate terms had failed.

Lincoln had won the first round.

It established who was boss.

Okay, so Seward's in.

What about Chase?

Lincoln did something even bolder there, didn't he?

He did.

He sent Chase's nomination to the Senate without telling him first.

Wow.

How did Chase react?

Chase, who had a very high opinion of himself, was furious.

He decided immediately he would decline the offer.

But Lincoln persuaded him.

How?

Not with force, but with quiet persuasion.

He appealed to Chase's sense of duty, pointing out the embarrassment my declination would occasion him.

Lincoln.

It was subtle.

Playing on Chase's pride and sense of responsibility.

And it worked.

It worked.

Chase yielded.

It just shows Lincoln's incredible grasp of human nature.

How to motivate these powerful, ambitious men.

So after all that maneuvering, all that political chess,

Lincoln gets the cabinet he wanted.

He did.

This compound

a mix of former Whigs, former Democrats, conciliators, hardliners, a truly most unusual cabinet.

But he was clearly going to be the head of it.

It really flies in the face of what critics expected, right?

They thought this new executive from the Prairie lacked the delicacy of thought and subtlety of perception.

Exactly.

They underestimated him badly.

They thought his background hadn't prepared him for this level of political maneuvering.

But his secretary, Nicolay, saw it differently.

Called that first decision to choose rivals one of great courage and self -reliance.

Yeah, and he contrasted it sharply with the outgoing president, James Buchanan, who only surrounded himself with yes men, people who thought just like him.

Lincoln embraced the discord.

He saw strength in it.

He knew he needed the strongest people, regardless of their past rivalries or differing views, to hold the country together.

He explained his reasoning pretty clearly, didn't he?

To Joseph Medill.

Yes, he said, we needed the strongest men the party in the cabinet.

We needed to hold our own people together.

I had no right to deprive the country of their services.

It wasn't about him.

It was about the country needing that collective strength.

So you, our listener, get this.

This first critical test forming the cabinet, it proved something crucial.

It proved that the Prairie lawyer from Springfield was actually the strongest of them all.

He established his leadership right from day one, not through force, but through incredible political skill and a deep understanding of people.

So this deep dive really shows us Lincoln's quiet determination on that journey, his absolute commitment to the declaration's principles, and well, his political genius in putting together this team of rivals.

Yeah, he didn't shy away from strong personalities or different opinions.

He actually embraced them.

He understood that kind of diversity, that strength of character was exactly what a fractured nation needed in its leaders.

Which brings us to a final thought, maybe something for you to consider.

In our world today, which often feels so divided, so full of echo chambers,

what can we learn from Lincoln's willingness to deliberately bring together opposing forces?

How might his strategy of building coalitions, even with rivals, offer us some insights for navigating the complex challenges we face now?

That's a powerful question, isn't it?

A really relevant lesson from a critical moment in history.

Definitely offers a timeless perspective on what makes for effective, courageous leadership.

Well, thank you for joining us on this deep dive into Lincoln's crucial first steps towards the presidency.

We hope you found these insights as fascinating and maybe as thought provoking as we did.