Chapter 5

For here in mottled cord and vein I trace the varying chart of years, I know the troubled heart, the strain, The weight of Atlas--and the tears.

Again I see the patient brow That palm erewhile was wont to press; And now 'tis furrowed deep, and now Made smooth with hope and tenderness.

For something of a formless grace This molded outline plays about; A pitying flame, beyond our trace, Breathes like a spirit, in and out--

The love that casts an aureole Round one who, longer to endure, Called mirth to cease his ceaseless dole, Yet kept his nobler purpose sure.

Lo, as I gaze, the statured man, Built up from yon large hand, appears; A type that nature wills to plan But once in all a people's years.

What better than this voiceless cast To tell of such a one as he, Since through its living semblance passed The thought that bade a race be free?

The Republicans of Chicago had erected a huge temporary building for the use of the Convention. The "Wigwam," as it was called, covered a space of 600 feet by 180, and the height was between 50 and 60 feet. The building would hold about 10,000 persons, and was divided into platform, ground-floor and gallery. The stage upon which the delegates and members of the press were seated, held about 1,800 persons; the ground-floor and galleries, about 8,000. A large gallery was reserved for ladies, which was filled every day to overflowing. The Convention met on June 16, 1860.

Edmund Clarence Stedman is the author of this poem, and it was published in the _Press and Tribune_ of Chicago, and in _Weekly Illinois State Journal_, June 13, 1860. It was sung to the air of the "Star Spangled Banner" throughout the campaign.

HONEST ABE OF THE WEST

O Hark! from the pine-crested hills of old Maine, Where the splendor first falls from the wings of the morning, And away in the West, over river and plain, Rings out the grand anthem of Liberty's warning! From green-rolling prairie it swells to the sea, For the people have risen, victorious and free, They have chosen their leaders, and bravest and best Of them all is Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!

The spirit that fought for the patriots of old Has swept through the land and aroused us forever; In the pure air of heaven a standard unfold Fit to marshal us on to the sacred endeavor! Proudly the banner of freemen we bear; Noble the hopes that encircle it there! And where battle is thickest we follow the crest Of gallant Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!

There's a triumph in urging a glorious cause, Though the hosts of the foe for a while may be stronger, Pushing on for just rules and holier laws, Till their lessening columns oppose us no longer. But ours the loud pæan of men who have passed Through the struggles of years, and are victors at last; So forward the flag! Leave to Heaven the rest, And trust in Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!

William Henry Burleigh, born at Woodstock, Connecticut, February 2, 1812. In early manhood became an advocate of reforms then unpopular, and an acceptable lecturer on behalf of temperance and the anti-slavery cause. He removed to Pittsburgh in 1837, where he published the _Christian Witness_, and afterwards the _Temperance Banner_. As a writer, speaker, editor, poet, reformer, friend and associate, it was the universal testimony of those who knew him best and esteemed him most truly, that he stood in the forefront of his generation. His poetry, animated by deep love of nature and a profound desire to uphold truth and justice, gives him a place with our first minor poets.

PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN, 1860

Up again for the conflict! Our banner fling out, And rally around it with song and with shout! Stout of heart, firm of hand, should the gallant boys be, Who bear to the battle the Flag of the Free! Like our fathers, when Liberty called to the strife, They should pledge to her cause fortune, honor, and life! And follow wherever she beckons them on, Till Freedom results in a victory won!

They came from the hillside, they came from the glen-- From the streets thronged with traffic and surging with men, From loom and from ledger, from workshop and farm, The fearless of heart, and the mighty of arm. As the mountain-born torrents exultingly leap When their ice-fetters melt, to the breast of the deep; As the winds of the prairie, the waves of the sea, They are coming--are coming--the Sons of the Free!

Our Leader is one who, with conquerless will, Has climbed from the base to the brow of the hill; Undaunted in peril, unwavering in strife, He has fought a good fight in the Battle of Life, And we trust as one who--come woe or come weal, Is as firm as the rock and as true as the steel. Right loyal and brave, with no stain on his breast, Then, hurrah, boys, for honest "Old Abe of the West!"

Madison Cawein was born at Louisville, Kentucky, on the 23rd of March, 1865. Was educated in the city and country schools about Louisville and New Albany, Indiana. Graduated from the Male High School, Louisville, in 1886, and the following year published his first volume, called _Blooms of the Berry_. Since then he published some thirty-odd volumes of prose and poetry, both in the United States and England. He died in 1915.

LINCOLN, 1809--FEBRUARY 12, 1909

_Read for the first time at the Lincoln centenary celebration, Temple Adath Israel, Louisville, Ky._

Yea, this is he, whose name is synonym Of all that's noble, though but lowly born; Who took command upon a stormy morn When few had hope. Although uncouth of limb, Homely of face and gaunt, but never grim, Beautiful he was with that which none may scorn-- With love of God and man and things forlorn, And freedom mighty as the soul in him. Large at the helm of state he leans and looms With the grave, kindly look of those who die Doing their duty. Stanch, unswervingly Onward he steers beneath portentous glooms, And overwhelming thunders of the sky, Till, safe in port, he sees a people free.

Safe from the storm; the harbor-lights of Peace Before his eyes; the burden of dark fears Cast from him like a cloak; and in his ears The heart-beat music of a great release; Captain and pilot, back upon the seas, Whose wrath he'd weathered, back he looks with tears, Seeing no shadow of the Death that nears, Stealthy and sure, with sudden agonies. So let him stand, brother to every man, Ready for toil or battle; he who held A Nation's destinies within his hand; Type of our greatness; first American, By whom the hearts of all men are compelled, And with whose name Freedom unites our land.

He needs no praise of us, who wrought so well, Who has the Master's praise; who at his post Stood to the last. Yet, now, from coast to coast, Let memory of him peal like some great bell, Of him as woodsman, workman, let it tell! Of him as lawyer, statesman, without boast! And for what qualities we love him most, And recollections that no time can quell. He needs no praise of us, yet let us praise, Albeit his simple soul we may offend, That liked not praise, being most diffident; Still let us praise him, praise him in such ways As his were, and in words that shall transcend Marble, and outlast any monument.

Isaac Bassett Choate, born at South Otis Field, Maine, July 12, 1833. Bachelor of Arts, Bowdoin College, 1862. Author of _Wild Birds and Flowers_, 1895; _Wells of English_, 1892; _Obeyed the Camel Driver_, 1899; _Apollo's Guest_, 1907.

By special invitation from the faculty of the Alumni Association of said College he read the following poem at their annual banquet held on the centenary of Lincoln's birth, 1909:

THE MATCHLESS LINCOLN

From out the ranks of common men he rose-- Himself of common elements, yet fine-- As in a wood of different species grows Above all other trees the lordly pine, Upon whose branches rest the winter snows, Upon whose head warm beams of summer shine; His was the heart to feel the people's woes And his the hand to hold the builder's line; Strong, patient, wise and great, Born ruler of the State.

Among a mountain group one sovereign peak Will tower aloft unto commanding height As if more distant view abroad to seek-- First one to hail, last one to speed the light; Those granite sides will snows of winter streak E'en in the summer with their purest white;-- Silent, serene, that summit yet will speak Of loftiest grandeur to the enraptured sight; So Lincoln's greatness shone Supreme, unmatched, alone.

Charlotte Becker was born and has always lived in Buffalo, New York. She was educated in private schools and in Europe, and has written poems for _Harper's Magazine_, _The Metropolitan_, _The American_, _Life_, etc., besides a number of songs which have been set to music by Amy Woodfords-Finden, C. B. Hawley, Whitney Coombs and others.

LINCOLN

Gaunt, rough-hewn face, that bore the furrowed signs Of days of conflict, nights of agony, And still could soften to the gentler lines Of one whose tenderness and truth went free Beyond the pale of any small confines To understand and help humanity.

Wise, steadfast mind, that grasped a people's need, Counting nor pain nor sacrifice too great To keep the noble purpose of his creed Strong against all buffeting of Fate, Though no least solace sprang of work or deed For him, since triumph came at last--too late.

Brave, weary heart, that beat uncomforted Beneath its heavy load of grief and care; That tears of blood for every battle shed, Yet called on mirth to help his comrades bear The waiting hours of anguish, and that sped With loyal haste each breath of balm to share.

Only his people's griefs were his; no part Had he within their joy; nor his the toll To know the love that made rebellion start, Spurred hosts unnumbered to a higher goal; That his great soul should cleanse a nation's heart, His martyred heart awake a nation's soul.

The last home of the parents of Lincoln. Built by his father, Thomas, in 1831, near Farmington, Coles Co., Ill. The father died here in 1851 and the step-mother, Sarah Bush Lincoln, in 1869. After Lincoln was elected President in 1860, and before leaving for Washington to be inaugurated, he visited his mother in this cabin for the last time. As he was leaving her, she made a prediction of his tragic death. With arms about his neck, with tears streaming down her cheeks, she declared it was the last time she would ever see him alive, and it proved to be so.

Lincoln once said, "I was told that I never would make a lawyer if I did not understand what 'demonstrate' means. I left my situation in Springfield, went to my father's house, and stayed there till I could give any proposition in the six books of Euclid at sight. I there found out what demonstrate means."

On Monday, February 11, 1861, Mr. Lincoln and family in company with a party left Springfield, Illinois, for Washington, D. C. A light rain mixed with snow was falling at the time which made the occasion a somewhat gloomy one. Mr. Lincoln appeared on the rear platform of the car where he bade farewell to his neighbors in the following address:

"My friends, no one not in my position can appreciate the sadness I feel at this parting. To this people I owe all that I am. Here I have lived more than a quarter of a century. Here my children were born, and here one of them lies buried.

"I know not how soon I shall see you again. A duty devolves upon me which is greater, perhaps, than that which has devolved upon any other man since the days of Washington. He never would have succeeded except for the aid of divine Providence, upon which he at all times relied.

"I feel that I cannot succeed without the same divine aid which sustained him; and on the same Almighty Being I place my reliance for support, and I hope you, my friends, will pray that I may receive the divine assistance, without which I cannot succeed, but with which success is certain. Again, I bid you an affectionate farewell."

Mr. Lincoln thought that there is a time to joke and pray; and if, as his detractors affirm, he joked all the way to Washington, if he did not pray also (as we believe he did, and fervently, too) he at least desired the prayers of others, as the circumstances recorded in the following poem will show. It is from the pen of a lady of Philadelphia, Mrs. Anna Bache.

LINCOLN AT SPRINGFIELD, 1861

"My friends,--elected by your choice, From the long-cherished home I go, Endeared by Heaven-permitted joys, Sacred by Heaven-permitted woe, I go, to take the helm of State, While loud the waves of faction roar, And by His aid, supremely great, Upon whose will all tempests wait, I hope to steer the bark to shore. Not since the days when Washington To battle led our patriots on, Have clouds so dark above us met, Have dangers dire so close beset. And _he_ had never saved the land By deeds in human wisdom planned, But that with Christian faith he sought Guidance and blessing, where he ought. Like him, I seek for aid divine, His faith, his hope, his trust, are mine. Pray for me, friends, that God may make My judgment clear, my duty plain; For if the Lord no wardship take, The watchmen mount the towers in vain."

He ceased; and many a manly breast Panted with strong emotion's swell, And many a lip the sob suppressed, And tears from manly eyelids fell. And hats came off, and heads were bowed, As Lincoln slowly moved away; And then, heart-spoken, from the crowd, In accents earnest, clear, and loud, Came one brief sentence, "We _will_ pray!"

On the 22nd of February, 1861, Washington's birthday, on his journey to Washington, to assume the Presidency, Mr. Lincoln raised a new flag over Independence Hall, then went inside and spoke as follows:--

"I am filled with deep emotion at finding myself standing in this place, where were collected together the wisdom, the patriotism, the devotion to principle from which sprang the institutions under which we live. You have kindly suggested to me that in my hands is the task of restoring peace to our distracted country. I can say in return, sirs, that all the political sentiments I entertain have been drawn, so far as I have been able to draw them, from the sentiments which originated in and were given to the world from this hall. I have never had a feeling, politically, that did not spring from the sentiments embodied in the Declaration of Independence. I have often pondered over the dangers which were incurred by the men who assembled here and framed and adopted that Declaration. I have pondered over the toils that were endured by the officers and soldiers of the army who achieved that independence. I have often inquired of myself what great principle or idea it was that kept this Confederacy so long together. It was not the mere matter of separation of the colonies from the motherland, but that sentiment in the Declaration of Independence which gave liberty, not alone to the people of this country, but hope to all the world, for all future time. It was that which gave promise that in due time the weight would be lifted from the shoulders of all men and that all should have an equal chance. This is the sentiment embodied in the Declaration of Independence.

"Now, my friends, can this country be saved on that basis? If it can, I will consider myself one of the happiest men in the world if I can help to save it. But if this country cannot be saved without giving up that principle, I was about to say I would rather be assassinated on this spot than surrender it."

Four years and two months later, April 22, 1865, his body lay, assassinated, on the very spot where he had made the above remarks, then being taken to Springfield, Illinois, for burial.

Henry Wilson Clendenin, born at Schellsburg, Pennsylvania, August 1, 1837; educated in private schools and by tutors. Married Mary E. Morey of Monmouth, Illinois, October 23, 1877; to them were born five children, four of whom survive: George M., manager _Illinois State Register_; Clarence R., Deputy Internal Revenue Collector, Springfield, Illinois; Harry F., proofreader, _Illinois State Register_, and Marie, Assistant Instructor Physical Education, State Normal University, Normal, Illinois. He was a private of Company I, Twentieth Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, in the Civil War. Began newspaper work on _Burlington_ (Iowa) _Hawkeye_. Afterwards telegraph editor _Peoria Transcript_, 1858; telegraph editor _Burlington Gazette_, 1863, and editor and proprietor, _Keokuk Daily Constitution_, 1876-1881; since that year was editor and president of the _Illinois State Register_. Postmaster, Springfield 1886-90. Member Illinois State Historical Society, The Jefferson Association, Grand Army of the Republic and Sons of the American Revolution. Director of Lincoln Library at Springfield, Illinois, for ten years. Member of the First Congregational Church of that city.

This sonnet was written by Mr. Clendenin, in Philadelphia, February 22, 1861, after witnessing Lincoln hoist the flag over Independence Hall.

LINCOLN CALLED TO THE PRESIDENCY

Hark to the sound that speedeth o'er the land! Behold the sword in fratricidal hand! 'Tis duty calls thee, Lincoln, and thy trust Demands that all thy acts be wise and just. No idle task to thee has been assigned, But work that's worthy of a giant mind-- And on the issue hangs the nation's fame As a free people who deserve the name. So, walk thou in the way the fathers trod; Be true to freedom, country, and to God; Then truth will triumph, treason be undone, And thou be hailed the second Washington. The first, the Father of his country--thou, Its Saviour. Bind the laurel on thy brow.

An act of Congress July 9, 1790, established the District of Columbia as the National Capital, and provided that prior to the first Monday of December, 1800, the Commissioners should have finished a suitable building for the sessions of Congress. The site of the Capitol was included in L'Enfant's plan for the city. The cornerstone was laid September 18, 1793, with Masonic rites, George Washington officiating. The wings of the central building were completed in 1811, and were partially burned by the British, in 1814. The entire central building was finished in 1827. The cornerstone of the extension was laid by President Fillmore, July 4, 1851. The extensions were first occupied by Congress 1857 and 1859. Up to that time the Senate Chamber was the present Supreme Court Room, and the Hall of Representatives was the present National Statuary Hall. The dome was finished during the administration of President Lincoln. The total cost of the Capitol building and grounds was about thirty million dollars. The remains of President Lincoln were escorted from the White House to the Capitol at three o'clock P.M., on the 19th of April, 1865. The number in the procession was estimated at forty thousand, and that many more were spectators along the route. The burial service was conducted by Dr. Gurley. The special train bearing the remains left at 8 A.M., Friday, April 21, for Springfield, Illinois, stopping at Baltimore, Maryland; Harrisburg and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Albany and Buffalo, New York; Cleveland and Columbus, Ohio; Indianapolis, Indiana; Chicago, Illinois, reaching Springfield, Illinois, the 3d of May, and was buried the following day. The body lay in state in all of the above cities.

Edwin Markham, born at Oregon City, Oregon, April 23, 1852; settled in California in 1857, and worked there during his boyhood, principally as a blacksmith. Worked his way through the San Jose Normal School and Santa Rosa College. Became a writer of stories and verse for papers and magazines, and principal and superintendent of California schools. Was the author of _The Man With the Hoe, and Other Poems_ (1899); _The Man With the Hoe, with Notes by the Author_ (1900); _The End of the Century_ (1899); _Lincoln, the Great Commoner_ (1900); _The Mighty Hundred Years; Lincoln and Other Poems_ (1901); _The Shoes of Happiness_ (1915). His _Man With the Hoe_ was extensively republished and gave him wide fame.

LINCOLN THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE