Post by dex on Mar 4, 2020 9:58:56 GMT -5
One hundred and fifty-five years ago — on March 4, 1865 — Abraham Lincoln did the most extraordinary thing in his extraordinary presidency.
He was taking the oath of office that day for a second time, having survived a reelection battle that he believed, in late August 1864, he was certain to lose. He had held the nation together through a savage civil war that had claimed the lives of 750,000 young Americans, many of them rolled into unmarked graves. After years of setbacks and outright disasters, victory finally seemed on the horizon.
To win, Lincoln had declared slaves under Confederate control to be free, and he had armed some 175,000 African Americans against the rebellion.
The president had been mercilessly attacked by his critics — not only Democrats, who regarded him as a brutal tyrant who had shredded the Constitution, but by some liberals in his own Republican Party, who considered him timid and incompetent. His penchant for telling crude jokes struck many Americans as grotesquely unpresidential.
On that March 4, as the sun broke out after days of heavy rain, Lincoln stepped out onto a damp wooden platform set up on the steps of the Capitol and gave his second inaugural address.
Given the abuse he had taken, Lincoln might have been expected to strike a triumphal note, to boast about what he — and the Union — had achieved. I can’t think of a modern politician who would not have done so.
Instead, Lincoln spoke about the failure of both sides to predict the brutality of the war, which inflicted ghastly suffering on both sides. He suggested that this shared misery was God’s just verdict, not only against the South but also the North, for the evil of slavery.
If God willed that the war would continue “until every drop of blood drawn with the lash, shall be paid by another drawn with the sword,” that could only be deemed just, he argued.
Many Northerners, including religious leaders, hoped to see Southerners punished for this horrific rebellion. Lincoln, almost alone, argued that all Americans had suffered for the grave wrong of slavery, and he urged all Americans to finish the work of reuniting the country, “With malice toward none, with charity for all.”
This weird and beautiful speech, resonant with the rhythms and depth of the King James Bible and Shakespeare’s masterpieces, has always haunted me. For five years, rising before dawn to write, and using weekends and vacations from my newspaper tasks, I have worked on a book about that speech, setting it in the context of 24 hours in the nation’s life — from the eve of the inauguration through the following evening.
I think a narrow focus on this event can be more illuminating than the usual omnipotent historical view. Studied in the course of one day, historical figures almost magically become flesh-and-blood human beings, subject to passions and other vicissitudes, including the political needs of the moment. You feel like you are there.
The tragic struggle of Abraham Lincoln comes into a particularly sharp focus.
The Southern historian and novelist Shelby Foote said any understanding of our nation had to be based on understanding the Civil War. “It was the crossroads of our being,” he said, “and it was a hell of a crossroads.”
This day in March, I believe, was the crossroads of the Civil War. It moved us toward an understanding of that great catastrophe. And it helped Americans aspire for peaceful coexistence in a more perfect union. That is a task that still challenges us.
Edward Achorn ( eachorn@ providencejournal.com ) is the editorial pages editor and vice president of The Providence Journal. Grove Atlantic published his new book, “Every Drop of Blood: The Momentous Second Inauguration of Abraham Lincoln,” this week.
He was taking the oath of office that day for a second time, having survived a reelection battle that he believed, in late August 1864, he was certain to lose. He had held the nation together through a savage civil war that had claimed the lives of 750,000 young Americans, many of them rolled into unmarked graves. After years of setbacks and outright disasters, victory finally seemed on the horizon.
To win, Lincoln had declared slaves under Confederate control to be free, and he had armed some 175,000 African Americans against the rebellion.
The president had been mercilessly attacked by his critics — not only Democrats, who regarded him as a brutal tyrant who had shredded the Constitution, but by some liberals in his own Republican Party, who considered him timid and incompetent. His penchant for telling crude jokes struck many Americans as grotesquely unpresidential.
On that March 4, as the sun broke out after days of heavy rain, Lincoln stepped out onto a damp wooden platform set up on the steps of the Capitol and gave his second inaugural address.
Given the abuse he had taken, Lincoln might have been expected to strike a triumphal note, to boast about what he — and the Union — had achieved. I can’t think of a modern politician who would not have done so.
Instead, Lincoln spoke about the failure of both sides to predict the brutality of the war, which inflicted ghastly suffering on both sides. He suggested that this shared misery was God’s just verdict, not only against the South but also the North, for the evil of slavery.
If God willed that the war would continue “until every drop of blood drawn with the lash, shall be paid by another drawn with the sword,” that could only be deemed just, he argued.
Many Northerners, including religious leaders, hoped to see Southerners punished for this horrific rebellion. Lincoln, almost alone, argued that all Americans had suffered for the grave wrong of slavery, and he urged all Americans to finish the work of reuniting the country, “With malice toward none, with charity for all.”
This weird and beautiful speech, resonant with the rhythms and depth of the King James Bible and Shakespeare’s masterpieces, has always haunted me. For five years, rising before dawn to write, and using weekends and vacations from my newspaper tasks, I have worked on a book about that speech, setting it in the context of 24 hours in the nation’s life — from the eve of the inauguration through the following evening.
I think a narrow focus on this event can be more illuminating than the usual omnipotent historical view. Studied in the course of one day, historical figures almost magically become flesh-and-blood human beings, subject to passions and other vicissitudes, including the political needs of the moment. You feel like you are there.
The tragic struggle of Abraham Lincoln comes into a particularly sharp focus.
The Southern historian and novelist Shelby Foote said any understanding of our nation had to be based on understanding the Civil War. “It was the crossroads of our being,” he said, “and it was a hell of a crossroads.”
This day in March, I believe, was the crossroads of the Civil War. It moved us toward an understanding of that great catastrophe. And it helped Americans aspire for peaceful coexistence in a more perfect union. That is a task that still challenges us.
Edward Achorn ( eachorn@ providencejournal.com ) is the editorial pages editor and vice president of The Providence Journal. Grove Atlantic published his new book, “Every Drop of Blood: The Momentous Second Inauguration of Abraham Lincoln,” this week.