LINCOLN IN CARICATURE

By Rufus Rockwell Wilson

Author Of "Washington: The Capital City"

Illustrated With Thirty-two Plates

Printed For Private Distribution

1903

LINCOLN IN CARICATURE

INCOLN in caricature is a phase of the career of the great war President that has thus far lacked adequate treatment. Yet he was the most bitterly assailed and savagely cartooned public man of his time, and one has only to search the newspapers and periodicals of that period to find striking confirmation of this fact. The attitude of Great Britain toward the Union and its President was then one of cynical and scarcely veiled hostility, and nowhere were the sentiments of the English government and of the English masses more faithfully reflected than in the cartoons which appeared in London Punch between 1861 and 1865, many of which had Lincoln for their central figure. He was also frequently cartooned in Vanity Fair the American counterpart of Punch; in Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, and in Harper's Weekly. Indeed, nowhere were the changing sentiments of the people of the North, their likes and dislikes, their alternates hopes and fears, their hasty, often unjust judgments of men and measures, more vividly reflected than in the cartoons dealing with Lincoln which appeared in the last named journal during the epoch-making days of his Presidency. Thus the thirty-two plates from these sources here brought together have a value and interest already important and sure to increase with the passage of time, for they reflect with unconscious vividness, and as nothing else can do, the life and color of an historic era, and how his fellows regarded the grandest figure of that era. It is with their value as human documents in mind that they have been rescued from their half-forgotten hiding places, and assembled in chronological sequence, with such comment as may be necessary to make their purpose and meaning clear to older men, whose memory may have grown dim, as well as to the new generation that has come upon the stage in the eight and thirty years that have elapsed since the close of the Civil War.

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Plate Number One—This cartoon, "Lincoln à la Blondin," which appeared in Harper's Weekly, on August 25, 1860, seems to have been suggested by Blondin's crossing of Niagara on a tight rope with a man on his back—an event then fresh in the public mind. It also recalls an interesting phase of Lincoln's first campaign for the Presidency, which had its origin in a characteristic incident of the candidate's earlier years. It was in March, 1830, that Lincoln, at that time a youth of twenty-one, removed with his father and family from Indiana to Illinois, locating on the bluffs of the Sangamon River about ten miles from Decatur. There he and his kinsman, John Hanks, built a hewed log house, and broke fifteen acres of prairie sod with the two yoke of oxen they had driven from Indiana. They then felled the trees, cut off the logs, and with mauls and wedges split the rails to fence in the land they had broken. The following winter, the winter of the "deep snow" as it was known in Illinois, Lincoln alone made three thousand rails for a neighbor, walking three miles each day to do it. The Republican state convention of Illinois assembled at Decatur on May 9, 1860, and the first act of its chairman was to invite Lincoln, who was modestly seated in the body of the hall, to a seat upon the platform. An eye-witness describes the scene that followed as one of tumultuous enthusiasm. No way could be made through the shouting throng, and Lincoln was borne bodily, over their heads and shoulders, to the place of honor. Quiet restored, the chairman again arose and said:

"There is an old Democrat outside who has something he wishes to present to this convention."

Then the door of the hall swung open, and a sturdy old man marched in, shouldering two fence-rails, surmounted by a banner inscribed, in large letters:

"Two rails from a lot made by Abraham Lincoln and John Hanks in the Sangamon Bottom, in the year 1830."

The bearer was John Hanks himself, and he had come to do his part in making his old friend President. "It was an historic scene and moment. In an instant Lincoln, the rail-splitter, was accepted as the representative of the working man and the type and embodiment of the American idea of human freedom and possible human elevation. The applause was deafening. But it was something more than mere applause," for there was no opposition afterwards, to a resolution that declared Lincoln to be the first choice of the Republicans of Illinois for President, and instructed the delegates to the national convention to cast the vote of the State as a unit for him. It is a part of history how the tidal wave of enthusiasm behind this resolution swept from Decatur to Chicago, and thence over the country.

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Plate Number Two—This cartoon, "The Inside Track," published in Vanity Fair, on March 2, 1861, has for its motive the popular doubt and incertitude attending the make-up of the Cabinet and the policy of the new Administration toward the South. The President-elect is shown, with a doubtful expression on his face, flanked on either side by Thurlow Weed, who is drawn to represent a western river gambler of the period, and William H. Seward, while Horace Greeley, their sworn political foe, thrusts his head through the door in time to hear Weed remark impressively: "Trust to my friend Seward—trust to us. We'll compromise this little difficulty for you. But trust to us. Gentlemen from the country are often swindled by unprincipled sharpers. Trust to us." Seward, as we know, became Lincoln's Secretary of State, and Weed one of his trusted advisers, while the editor of the Tribune remained until the end a thorn in the side of the President.

Original Size

Plate Number Three—This cartoon, "The Flight of Abraham," published in Harper's Weekly, on March 9, 1861, holds up to ridicule Lincoln's memorable secret journey from Harrisburg to Washington, but its point-of-view is a mistaken one. Lincoln's advisers had good grounds for believing that there existed a plot to murder him during his passage through Baltimore, and every consideration forbade needless risk. The trip across Maryland was, therefore, made suddenly and in private, but there was no attempt at personal disguise, as the cartoon infers, nor any undignified concealment on the part of Lincoln or the friends who accompanied