Chapter 17: “We Are in the Depths”: Summer 1862

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Welcome to the Deep Dive.

Today we're really plunging into one of the most difficult periods in American history,

the summer of 1862.

This deep dive is all about how Abraham Lincoln navigated, well,

just overwhelming military defeat, deep personal sorrow, and intense political rivalries, and how all that laid the groundwork for a truly transformative moment, the Emancipation Proclamation.

We're trying to pull back the curtain on that whole decision -making process straight from the sources in Team of Rivals.

Indeed, and we'll explore the human side of leadership during what was really an existential crisis, examining how Lincoln and his cabinet grappled with a war that seemed frankly unwinnable at that point.

We'll look at the heavy personal toll it took and the complex strategic, moral, and political calculations that fundamentally shifted the Union's objectives.

Our mission is to kind of distill the core narrative for you, showing why each choice mattered and how it shaped what came next.

Okay, so let's set the scene then.

The summer of 1862 opens with the Union just reeling from the disastrous Peninsula Campaign.

Instead of a swift victory, taking Richmond,

they already faced this crushing defeat, and the sources describe this palpable sense of dread across the North.

Yeah, one observer, George Templeton Strong, he admitted, we are in the depths just now, permeated by disgust, saturated with gloomy thinking.

Even Lincoln's usually Stokelade called it a very blue week, describing the 4th of July that year as the gloomiest since the birth of this Republic, worse than Bull Run even.

And this military setback, it instantly triggered a crisis of national morale and leadership.

The whole dream of a quick war just evaporated, and the very survival of the Union felt, well,

terrifyingly uncertain.

What's truly striking here, I think, is how profoundly this national despair seeped into the personal lives of Lincoln's closest advisors.

Absolutely.

Take William Seward, his secretary of state, normally known for being, you know, irrepressibly optimistic, but he was shattered.

He told his daughter Fanny that if he showed even a shade of this popular despondency in his official dispatches, there would be black despair.

Just imagine that pressure.

Yeah.

So how did he cope?

He basically sought solace in letters from home, asking Fanny to, write to me then cheerfully, of boy and girls and dogs and horses, for thus helping to sustain a spirit.

It's quite a glimpse into the personal cost, isn't it?

It is.

A crucial window into the sheer emotional burden these leaders carried.

Sam and Chase, the treasury secretary, he felt much the same, saying, since the rebellion broke out, I have never been so sad.

He wrote these long detailed letters to his daughter Kate, even including confidential military intelligence about, like, troop positions so she could visualize the battle.

That really shows a deep need for connection, for shared understanding, even with family in that isolation.

And even in that exchange, there was hidden sorrow.

Kate herself was dealing with a broken engagement, and Chase, sensing her unhappiness, tried to encourage her to confide in him, eventually arranging trips for her, just to lift her spirits.

Right.

And then you have Edwin Stanton, the secretary of war.

After any disaster, people often look for a scapegoat, right?

Always.

And in the summer of 62, Stanton really became that figure.

His reputation, already complicated, took a serious hit.

Oh yeah.

General McClellan, who blames Stanton for the peninsula defeat, just launched into these skating attacks.

Called him the most unmitigated scoundrel I ever knew, claimed Stanton showed magnificent treachery.

Even the New York Times was suggesting McClellan should replace him.

The pressure was intense.

But here's where it gets really tough on a personal level.

Amidst all this public and political onslaught, Stanton was also enduring this profound private tragedy.

In early July, his infant son fell gravely ill from an inoculation and died on July 10th.

It's just heartbreaking.

Yeah.

And the sources say Stanton was always unnerved by death throughout his life.

And now he's just surrounded by it constantly.

He even took on the task of personally delivering news of fallen soldiers to their families, often with tears to his eyes.

That combination, the public attacks, the private grief, it really began to take a toll on his health.

You can see how it would.

So, okay.

His cabinet is reeling.

Lincoln's facing the ultimate responsibility.

The ultimate blame rests with him.

Yet, unlike some around him, he seemed to refuse to surrender to the gloom of defeat, as Walt Whitman put it.

So what was his strategy?

How did he move forward?

Well, his strategy seems rooted in this unwavering sense of purpose.

It's quite remarkable.

He even found time to write a letter to a miserable West Point cadet offering sort of universal advice.

It is a perfect certainty that you will very soon feel better if you only stick to the resolution you have taken.

He urged adherence to purpose, and that's a clear reflection of his own stance wasn't it, sticking to the mission.

That really is leadership in action.

And his first major move after that defeat was, frankly,

daring.

He decided to call for a major expansion of the army, a huge number of new troops, which, as you mentioned, was politically risky.

It came right after this crushing defeat, and Stanton had mistakenly shut down recruiting offices earlier, thinking victory was close.

Right.

Lincoln knew calling for more troops right then could cause a general panic.

People might think it was truly hopeless.

So how do you do that?

How do you rally a despondent nation to send more sons into what looks like a losing fight?

This is where Seward showed some real political genius.

He came up with this brilliant solution.

He met with the union governors in New York and basically got their agreement to endorse a public letter, asking the president to call for 300 ,000 additional troops.

Ah, clever.

Very.

It brilliantly reframed Lincoln's demand.

Instead of a top -down order that might cause panic, it looked like a patriotic appeal from the governors to the president.

Building consensus from the ground up, essentially.

Exactly.

It diffused potential dissent.

And Seward didn't stop there, did he?

He traveled all over the North, helping with recruiting, even asked his own department members to volunteer, his own 20 -year -old son, William Jr., enlisted.

Yeah, and that speaks volumes.

His wife, Francis, despite her past anxieties about their other son joining the Mexican war, she supported William Jr.'s decision.

The source says her passionate feelings against slavery now outweighed her maternal anxiety.

Shows that powerful moral undercurrent driving so many people.

That personal conviction.

Lincoln also understood the importance of, you know, direct connection, personal presence.

On July 8, 1862, he made this really grueling 12 -hour journey out to Harrison's Landing to visit McClellan's weary troops.

Just showed up.

Yeah.

An army correspondent noted it was an intensely hot day, but when Lincoln arrived, the soldiers let out great cheers.

His calm visage apparently masked deep anxiety, but just him being there, his presence, it was described as a tonic for the enervated regiments.

That direct touch matters.

But here's where it gets really interesting.

That clash of wills you mentioned.

McClellan, the defeated general, just before Lincoln arrived, had drafted this, what he called a strong, frank letter, basically outlining his vision for winning the war.

Oh, I remember this part.

Yeah, he empirically presents it to Lincoln, proclaiming the war should not be at all a war upon population, and crucially, that slave property must be respected.

He even suggests the president needs a commander in chief of the army, clearly hinting it should be him.

The audacity, really, after that defeat.

Right.

In Lincoln's reaction, the source says he made no comments upon the letter, merely saying when he had finished it that he had read it.

That silence.

It wasn't agreement or indecision.

It was, I think, a profound strategic rejection of McClellan's political advice.

And we'd see that rejection play out very soon in his actions.

But for the moment, his focus was morale.

He spent three hours reviewing divisions, riding slowly along the lines.

There's that amusing observation from a soldier about Lincoln looking like a ludicrous sight trying to manage his horse's reins and his tall stovepipe hat.

You can picture it.

But despite that, the troops loved him.

They saw his benign smile as a real reflection of his honest, kindly heart.

That connection was genuine.

And clearly, Lincoln's opinion of McClellan hadn't improved one bit.

Less than 48 hours after getting back to Washington, he summoned General Henry Halleck, Old Brains, they called him, for his books on military strategy.

Summoned him to Washington to become general -in -chief, the very job McClellan wanted.

Ouch.

McClellan, always suspicious he sensed something was up, wrote to his wife, I did not like the press sturds manner.

It seemed that of a man about to do something, of which he was much ashamed.

He read the room, just maybe not Lincoln's mind.

Seems so.

And amidst all the continued debates in Washington about McClellan, the attacks on Stanton, Lincoln's support for his secretary of war never wavered.

He'd observed Stanton's vigorous, hard -driving style down the telegraph office, saw him work.

And he concluded that style, that drive, was exactly what was needed to crush the rebellion.

Crucially, Lincoln made it clear, publicly shielded him, stating that all that Stanton had done in regard to the Army had been authorized by him the president, took the responsibility himself.

And he didn't just support him privately either.

He went public.

At this immense union meeting on the Capitol stairs, huge event, like an inauguration, Lincoln showed up.

He kind of affably started, I believe there is no precedent for my appearing before you on this occasion, acknowledging it was unusual.

But it's also true that there was no precedent for your being here yourselves.

Then he got firm.

I believe he's Stanton's a brave and able man, and I stand here, as justice requires me to do, to take upon myself what has been charged on the secretary of war.

Wow.

That's a powerful public defense.

Absolutely.

That declaration effectively ended the campaign to oust Stanton.

It shows Lincoln's loyalty, but also his willingness to absorb political heat for his team when he thought they were essential.

That's a key leadership lesson right there, isn't it?

Protecting your people, especially the effective but maybe unpopular ones, sometimes requires taking a very public stand.

It lets Stanton keep doing his vital work.

So as this intense summer wore on, Lincoln and his family did find some fragile respite from the grief and pressure, especially after the death of their son Willie earlier that year.

Right.

They relocated for the summer months to the soldier's home, described as a beautiful earthly paradise just north of the city.

Lincoln commuted the three miles to the White House each morning, but he returned to this place surrounded by flowers and trees.

A bit of an escape.

Yeah, and Robert was home from Harvard, and their younger son Tad, who'd lost his brother and playmate, seemed to thrive there.

The soldiers guarding his father even gave him the affectionate title Third Lieutenant, so it allowed for some precious family time.

Precious, but still temporary,

with the distant sound of cannons often audible, a constant reminder of the war.

And during this period, Mary Lincoln found her own way to cope, her own refuge.

She developed a daily habit of visiting the hospitals in the district.

These visits became her way of channeling her private grief into, well, compassionate action.

The poet Walt Whitman, who worked as a nurse himself, observed that this kind of harrowing experience made one's own little cares and difficulties just disappear into nothing.

Facing death daily really shifted his perspective.

And the sources paint such a vivid, often grim picture of wartime Washington then.

After the Peninsula campaign, steamers arrived daily at the Sixth Street Wharf, just packed with hundreds of injured soldiers, many horribly wounded.

Yeah, the scale was immense.

The government scrambled, converting hotels, churches, clubs, even the second floor of the Patent Office into makeshift military hospitals.

Louisa May Alcott, who nursed in one, noted her ward was, in truth, a ballroom, if gunshot wounds could christen it.

Just imagine that contrast.

Whitman described the Patent Office Hospital as this curious scene.

Sick and dying soldiers lying between these high and ponderous glass cases, filled with inventions and models.

Surreal.

And Mary Lincoln, in her own quiet way, she was a benefactress.

She'd fill her carriage with fruit, food, fresh flowers.

She even got a $300 donation just for lemons and oranges, which were essential to prevent scurvy.

Little things that made a huge difference.

Exactly.

Placing fresh flowers on pillows to try and mask the awful stench of disinfectant and decay.

She'd sit with lonely soldiers, talk to them, read to them, write letters home for them.

There's this heartbreaking story in the sources about a soldier named John, whose mother's letter arrived just an hour too late to gladden the eyes that had longed and looked for it so eagerly.

Ugh.

Just gut -wrenching.

It highlights the personal cost, doesn't it?

Even far from the front lines.

What's really remarkable, though, is that Mary's extensive, compassionate work went largely un -publicized.

Unlike other society women who got lots of praise in the papers.

That's interesting.

Why was that?

Well, one of Lincoln's secretaries speculated that if she were worldly wise, she would bring newspaper reporters along.

Made sure everyone knew.

But Mary chose discretion.

Partly because physicians objected to interruptions, but also due to the perceived impropriety of ladies being around common soldiers in various states of undress or injury.

Social norms of the time.

Right.

But the source suggests she found something more gratifying than public acknowledgement, anyway.

What was that?

The soldier's unwavering belief in her husband and in the Union.

That direct connection meant more to her than headlines.

Reveals a dedication beyond just public image.

That's quite revealing.

So amidst all this, the military pressure, the cabinet tensions, the personal grief, the hospital visits while Washington sweltered, Lincoln was making this momentous decision on emancipation.

The decision that would define everything.

Exactly.

The debates on slavery had just grown more and more bitter over the preceding months.

Lincoln's earlier attempts at gradual compensated emancipation in the loyal border states had been rejected.

Flat out.

Right.

He'd hoped paying slaveholders a fair price for freeing slaves would shorten the war, you know, by depriving the Confederacy of hope.

But the border states argued the opposite.

They said it would only lengthen the war, further consolidate the spirit of rebellion, and even fan the spirit of secession within their own states.

So that avenue was closed.

Meanwhile, back in Washington, the Republican controlled Congress was pushing its own agenda.

Harder line.

They passed a bill for compensated emancipation right there in the District of Columbia, which Lincoln readily approved.

Frederick Douglass was apparently ecstatic.

But then came the much more radical Second Confiscation Act in July.

This declared free all slaves of persons engaged in rebellion, regardless of whether the slaves themselves were used for military purposes.

A big step.

Though your sources do call it a dead letter from the start because there wasn't really a mechanism to enforce it widely.

Still, symbolically, it stirred hearts.

Lincoln faced intense pressure over whether to even sign that bill.

His friend Browning urged a veto, fearing it would backfire, galvanize Democrats, maybe even empower abolitionists too much too fast.

But Chase, on the other hand, argued a veto would be an end of him politically, alienating the Republican majority in Congress, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Totally.

Lincoln, described as looking weary, careworn, and troubled,

ultimately signed the bill.

But only after listing his objections and getting revisions to ensure it would, as the source says, pass constitutional muster, meaning he wanted it to stand up to legal challenges later.

That shows his meticulousness, doesn't it?

His attention to legal and constitutional boundaries, even under that extreme pressure, always thinking about the framework.

It's also important to remember, amidst this huge slavery controversy, the 37th Congress was incredibly productive on other fronts too.

The home front, they passed what are called epoch -making pieces of legislation.

The Homestead Act, the Morrill Act, setting up land -grant colleges, the Pacific Railroad Act, huge stuff, laying the groundwork for the future, even in the midst of war.

They also handled the economics, the legal tender bill creating greenbacks, the first federal income tax, building the nation while trying to save it.

But for Lincoln, the sources say the devastating reverses on the peninsula were the real catalyst, the true turning point.

That defeat made it clear that extraordinary means were necessary to save the union.

Status quo wasn't working.

Exactly.

And this is where Lincoln began to view emancipation, not just as a moral issue, which it always was for him personally, but crucially as a military necessity.

Slaves were undeniably vital to the Confederacy's war effort, digging trenches, building fortifications, working as teamsters, cooks, field laborers, a massive workforce.

By divesting the rebels of this workforce and potentially even recruiting freed slaves into the Union Army, the North could gain a decisive strategic advantage.

So this reframed the whole issue.

It became a legitimate exercise of the president's constitutional war powers, a way to weaken the enemy and win the war.

A brilliant strategic pivot, really, moving it into the realm of military action under his authority as commander in chief.

So how did this new departure, as the source calls it, first take concrete shape?

When did he reveal his thinking?

He first shared his preliminary thoughts on Sunday, July 13th, and the setting.

It was during a carriage ride with Seward and Wells.

But the reason for the ride was profoundly somber.

They were on their way to attend the funeral of Stanton's infant son.

Wow.

Revealing this monumental idea on the way to a baby's funeral, the weight of that moment.

Incredible, isn't it?

Wells recorded in his diary that Lincoln dwelt earnestly on the gravity, importance and delicacy of the subject.

Lincoln told them he had come to the conclusion that it was a military necessity that we must free the slaves or be ourselves subdued.

Stark choice.

Free the slaves or lose the Union.

That was the new departure.

His war powers, he argued, would now have to override the Constitution's protection of slavery in the rebelling states.

Seward was cautious, but admitted it was justifiable.

Okay, so that's the first reveal.

What happened next?

A week later, July 21st, Lincoln called a special cabinet meeting,

which was apparently a novelty, according to Chase, because they hadn't been meeting regularly due to all the internal disagreements.

Getting the team back together for something big.

Exactly.

Then the very next day, July 22nd, in his office, the scene famously depicted in that Francis Carpenter painting, first reading of the Emancipation Proclamation, he made the announcement.

He told them he had resolved upon this step, and importantly, he had not called them together to deliberate about the expediency of the measure, but to lay it before them.

Basically, I've decided.

Here it is.

Pretty much.

Then he read the preliminary draft of the Emancipation Proclamation.

And what did that first draft say?

It declared that on January 1st, 1863, all slaves and states still in rebellion against the Union would be declared free, thenceforward, and forever.

Crucially, it did not apply to the border states or areas already under Union control.

Why?

Because Lincoln believed he lacked the constitutional authority to act there without invoking war powers, which only applied to rebellious territory.

The legal distinction was key.

Very key.

But even with that limitation, it was, as the source says, shocking in scope.

It promised freedom to potentially three and a half million enslaved people.

Must have landed like a bombshell in that room.

What were the reactions?

Varied.

Complex.

Stanton, maybe unsurprisingly given his drive, immediately grasped its military value and the passionate justice of it, supported it.

Even the conservative attorney general, Edward Bates, surprised his colleagues by giving his very decided approval.

Really?

Why Bates?

The source suggests his own family tragedy played a role.

His family was tragically divided by the war, with sons fighting on both sides.

He hoped emancipation would bring a speedier conclusion to conflict.

But, and this is a big but, he did so with the condition of mandatory deportation of freed slaves afterward.

Mandatory deportation.

Yes.

He believed, like many white people at the time, that the two races could not live and thrive in social proximity without causing degradation and demoralization to the white race.

A stark contrast to Lincoln's tentative exploration of voluntary immigration.

Wow.

Okay.

So Bates approved with a huge condition.

Who else?

Montgomery Blair, the postmaster general, strongly opposed it.

He feared it would jeopardize the loyalty of the border states and cost the Republicans dearly in the upcoming fall elections.

Purely political calculation.

And Sam and Chase?

The staunch abolitionist.

Here's another surprise.

Chase, the guy you'd expect to be cheering, actually recoiled.

Recoiled?

Why?

He admitted it went beyond anything I have recommended.

He worried about widespread chaos, depredation and massacre, and general disorder if millions were suddenly freed.

He suggested a more incremental approach, letting generals proclaim emancipation locally as they advanced.

Now, the sources also suggest that maybe, just maybe, personal ambition played a role.

The proclamation clearly placed the president in advance of Chase on a path which was his specialty, the anti -slavery path, made Lincoln the standard bearer.

Interesting political dynamic there.

Okay.

So Blair opposes, Chase recoils.

What about Seward, the optimist who is feeling so low earlier?

Seward, always complex.

He worried about a potential race war, disruption to the cotton trade, maybe even European intervention against the Union.

Lots of concerns.

But his most absolutely pivotal contribution was about timing.

Timing.

Okay.

He reportedly said something like, Mr.

President, I approve of the proclamation, but I question the expediency of its issue at this juncture.

Why now?

What was the problem with the timing?

Seward pointed to the depression of the public mind consequent upon our repeated reverses.

The North was demoralized after the Peninsula campaign defeat.

He feared that issuing the proclamation then might be seen not as an act of strength, but as desperation.

The last measure of an exhausted government, a cry for help, our last shriek on the retreat.

Powerful imagery.

Yeah.

So his advice was, wait, wait until the eagle of victory takes his flight, and then essentially hang your proclamation about his neck.

Announce it from a position of strength, not weakness.

And Lincoln's reaction to that advice.

Lincoln himself later admitted that Seward's argument struck me with very great force.

He realized it was an aspect of the case that in all my thought upon the subject, I had entirely overlooked.

He hadn't considered the optics of announcing it after a defeat.

Exactly.

So the result.

Lincoln put the draft of the proclamation aside, waiting for a victory.

So the decision was made, but put on hold.

But he didn't just forget about it, right?

He kept working on public opinion.

Absolutely not.

Even while waiting for that crucial victory, Lincoln continued to edit the proclamation,

refine his arguments.

He deeply understood that famous line often attributed to him, quote, with public sentiment, nothing can fail.

Without it, nothing can succeed.

Part of shaping that public sentiment involved addressing white fears about racial coexistence in a potentially free society, which were widespread.

Right.

So to try and allay those fears, he continued to pursue this plan for voluntary immigration or colonization of freed slaves.

Yes.

On August 14th, he invited a delegation of freed slaves, prominent black leaders to the White House.

A significant meeting.

But what he said was difficult.

He told them, you and we are different races.

You are yet far removed for being placed on an equality with the white race.

Oof.

That's hard to hear today.

Very.

He proposed setting up a colony for them in Central America, even mentioned Congress had appropriated funds for it.

But the source notes that this approach revealed a blind spot.

His remarkable empathy seemed to singularly fail him in this specific context.

He seemed unaware of the deep, deep attachment black Americans already felt to the United States as their country, their home.

And what was the reaction from the black leaders he spoke to and the broader community?

Swift and overwhelmingly negative.

Frederick Douglass launched what the source calls his most caustic assault yet on Lincoln.

Called his comments ridiculous and showing pride of race and blood.

Strong words.

Very.

William Lloyd Garrison's newspaper, The Liberator, eloquently argued that black Americans were as much the natives of the country as any of their oppressors.

And that talking about exiling them was pathetic for a nation that proudly boasts of being the oppressed of all nations.

A powerful counter -argument.

It really highlights Lincoln's moral growth over time, though.

While he was initially somewhat disconnected from that perspective, the sources emphasize that his later friendship with Douglass and his contact with hundreds of black soldiers during the war would help him eventually cast off those colonization thoughts completely.

But at this moment, in August 62, he wasn't there yet.

So the debates weren't just racial, they were political, too.

What about Horace Greeley?

Ah, yes.

Horace Greeley, the influential editor of the New York Tribune.

On August 20th, he published a fiery open letter to Lincoln titled, The Prayer of 20 Millions.

What was the prayer?

It basically decried Lincoln's perceived inaction on slavery, demanding he enforce the Confiscation Acts and move more decisively against slavery as the root cause of the war.

It was a public challenge.

And Lincoln responded.

Publicly.

He did.

And he seized the opportunity Brilliantly, he replied, with his own open letter, published just a couple of days later, and in it, he masterfully framed his policy, not as anti -slavery for its own sake, necessarily, but as driven purely by the need to save the Union.

This was aimed at that broader northern audience.

This is where that famous quote comes from, isn't it?

Exactly.

He wrote, My paramount object in this struggle is to save the Union, and is not either to save or to destroy slavery.

If I could save the Union without freeing any slave, I would do it.

And if I could save it by freeing all the slaves, I would do it.

Wow.

Putting the Union above all else, publicly.

Yes.

He emphasized that everything he did or didn't do regarding slavery was solely because it helps to save the Union.

How did that go over, especially with the abolitionists?

Well, strategically, it was genius for shoring up broad support.

But initially, it infuriated abolitionists like Francis Seward, William Seward's wife.

She felt it gave the impression that the Union, the political structure, was more important than human freedom.

A valid point from her perspective.

Absolutely.

Seward himself had apparently debated this very point with his wife.

He argued that preserving the Republican institutions themselves was paramount, because without the Union, there'd be no framework to achieve lasting freedom.

The salvation of the nation, he argued, is a vastly more consequence than the destruction of slavery right now.

She didn't buy it.

Not at all.

Francis strongly disagreed, even urging him to make his own record clear by resigning if Lincoln ultimately refused to act decisively on slavery,

shows the intensity of the moral conviction on that side.

So, as the chapter concludes,

Lincoln, despite all this criticism from different angles, he kept his proclamation hidden, tucked away.

He did.

He knew, as the source puts it, that everything depended on the success of his army.

He needed that victory Seward had told him to wait for.

The stage was set, the document was ready, but the timing wasn't right.

Not yet.

Okay, so let's recap.

The summer of 1862 emerges as this absolute crucible for Lincoln's leadership, doesn't it?

Forging a whole new path for the Union out of defeat and despair.

It really was.

We've seen how he wrestled with military failure, intense personal grief within his own family and his cabinet, political dissent within his cabinet, and this profound, evolving moral question of slavery.

His genius, I think, lay in his ability to absorb all these immense pressures, to allow his own thinking to evolve based on changing realities, especially the military necessity, and, crucially, his patience.

His ability to wait for the strategic moment to act, understanding that complex interplay of public sentiment, military needs, and political timing.

It's just a powerful illustration of how a leader can hold onto a vision, adapt their strategy along the way, and navigate just incredible personal and public challenges for a greater cause.

This deep dive, hopefully, has offered you a shortcut to understanding this pivotal chapter, showing the human struggles, the strategic calculations, the moments of brilliance, and the moments of flawed thinking behind one of history's most significant acts.

We hope it's given you some aha moments about the real world messiness and complexity of leadership, especially in crisis.

Thanks so much for joining us for another deep dive into the sources.

We hope this has sparked your curiosity even further.

And maybe for a final provocative thought to leave you with,

consider how leadership in times of national crisis often demands not just decisive action, but also that incredibly difficult skill, the wisdom, to know when to wait.

What might have been the immediate and the long -term consequences if Lincoln had not waited for a military victory before issuing the Emancipation Proclamation back in July or August of 1862?

Something to think about.