Table
of Contents
Study
Areas:
Slavery
Anti-Slavery
Free
Persons of Color
Underground
Railroad
The
Violent Decade
US
Colored Troops
Civil
War
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Chapter
Nine
Deluge (continued)
In
the Hands of the People
Lincoln
sat beside Governor Curtin in the House chamber. After the
combined Pennsylvania legislators had settled themselves in, State
Senator Robert M. Palmer delivered welcoming remarks on behalf of
his chamber, followed by Speaker of the House Elisha W. Davis for
the state representatives. Welcoming remarks from both men included
pointed references to Pennsylvania’s role in the president-elect’s
victory.
Palmer
had been in the Wigwam the previous year as part of the Simon Cameron
delegation. It was the politically perceptive and powerful Cameronians
who reluctantly delivered their votes to Lincoln, only after Cameron’s
chances of winning the nomination were killed off, largely through
the efforts of the Curtin-led delegation. He welcomed Lincoln on behalf
of “the People of Pennsylvania upon whom rests so large a share
of the responsibility of your nomination and election.” Palmer’s
animosity would be soothed, as would so many of the Cameronians’,
by the political rewards coming from the Lincoln administration in
the coming months. Robert M. Palmer would be appointed Minister to
Argentina on 28 March, but would serve little more than a year before
his death in 1862.
Elisha
W. Davis was more supportive of the president-elect in his welcome, “pledging
the devotion of Pennsylvania to the Union.” Reflecting Curtin’s
earlier speech, he said that the state stood ready to provide “both
men and money to sustain the government, if need be to enforce the
laws.” Davis would stand loyally behind his pledge during the
war, serving as Lt. Colonel of the One Hundred and Twenty-First Pennsylvania
regiment from September 1862 until April 1863.
In
his response, Lincoln acknowledged the words of Palmer and Davis by
thanking “your great Commonwealth for the overwhelming support
it recently gave, not to me personally, but the cause, which I think
a just one, in the late election.” Loud applause interrupted
the president-elect—the first of nine demonstrations during his
speech that the Commonwealth’s lawmakers were in a more supportive
mood than its citizens who gathered in the streets outside. Lincoln
then began to tell of his experiences in Philadelphia that morning,
telling in vivid detail of the raising of the American flag over Independence
Hall, and reflecting on the significance of the whole event:
They
had arranged it so that I was given the honor of raising it to
the head of its staff, and when it went up I was pleased that it
went to its place by the strength of my own feeble arm. When, according
to the arrangement, the cord was pulled and it flaunted gloriously
to the wind without accident, in the light glowing sunshine of
the morning, I could not help hoping that there was in the entire
success of that beautiful ceremony at least something of an omen
of what is to come. Nor could I help feeling then, as I often have
felt, in the whole of the proceeding I was a very humble instrument.
I had not provided the flag, I had not made the arrangements for
elevating it to its place, I had applied but a very small portion
of my feeble strength in raising it; in the whole transaction I
was in the hands of the people who had arranged it, and if I can
have the same generous cooperation of the people of the nation,
I think the flag of our country may yet be kept flaunting gloriously.
The New York
Herald reported that “loud, enthusiastic and continued cheering” accompanied
the last few lines of that portion of Lincoln’s speech. Pennsylvania’s
lawmakers recognized that a signal change had taken place in the president-elect’s
philosophy. Unlike his speech in Philadelphia, delivered in the cradle
of American democracy, and in previous speeches, he did not emphasize
the role of the government in preserving the Union, but rather it was “in
the hands of the people.” Abraham Lincoln was to be merely an
instrument of the will of the people—albeit an instrument dedicated
to the preservation of democracy and federal government.94
In Harrisburg
this day, the text of the President-Elect’s Philadelphia speech
was printed in the pages of the local newspapers, and was read by everyone,
including, presumably, by many of the city’s African American
residents, who took a special interest in his election. To Doctor William
Jones, who had traveled from Harrisburg to Philadelphia in 1859 to
present testimony that he hoped would free one of his neighbors from
a lifetime of bondage, Mr. Lincoln’s words may have seemed bittersweet.
The president-elect had told the people of Philadelphia “I assure
you and your mayor that I had hoped on this occasion, and on all occasions
during my life, that I shall do nothing inconsistent with the teachings
of these holy and most sacred walls…All my political warfare
has been in favor of the teachings that come forth from these sacred
walls.” A little later he said, “In due time the weights
would be lifted from the shoulders of all men. This is the sentiment
embodied in the Declaration of Independence.”95
Yet Jones,
in testifying at a slave hearing inside of Independence Hall, had experienced
first hand the dual-purposed nature of that document. He must have
wondered if the president-elect, despite the promise of his campaign,
would also end up reconciling slavery with independence, in the name
of keeping the peace. Perhaps Joseph Popel wondered the same thing,
or perhaps he latched on to Mr. Lincoln’s rather startling statement
that he would rather die than allow the country to surrender the promise
of liberty for all. Words such as those would certainly appeal to a
man who had already put his own life on the line for another man’s
liberty.
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Notes
94. This analogy,
which constituted about half of the entire speech delivered in Harrisburg,
seems to have been developed on the train between Philadelphia and
Harrisburg. Its importance is underscored by its reappearance a short
time later in the concluding paragraphs of Lincoln’s Inaugural
Address, delivered on 4 March in Washington. After a discussion of
the powers and wisdom retained by the people of this country, the new
president again refers in that speech to the hands of the people, but
this time he was not referring to his supporters: “In your hands,
my dissatisfied fellow-countrymen, and not in mine, is the momentous
issue of civil war. The Government will not assail you. You can have
no conflict without being yourselves the aggressors. You have no oath
registered in heaven to destroy the Government, while I shall have
the most solemn one to "preserve, protect, and defend it." New
York Herald, 23 February 1861.
95. Pennsylvania
Telegraph, 22 February 1861.
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