lican Convention of the Nineteenth Ohio District, which
included Ashtabula County, Wade's county, there were fierce words and
then with few dissenting votes, a resolution, "That the recent attack
upon the President by Wade and Davis is, in our opinion, ill-timed,
ill-tempered, and ill-advised . . . and inasmuch as one of the authors
of said protest is a citizen of this Congressional District and indebted
in no small degree to our friendship for the position, we deem it a
duty no less imperative than disagreeable, to pronounce upon
that disorganizing Manifesto our unqualified disapproval and
condemnation."(2)

To be sure there were plenty of other voices from Ohio and elsewhere
applauding "The War on the President." Nevertheless, there were signs of
a reluctance to join the movement, and some of these in quarters where
they had been least expected. Notably, the Abolitionist leaders were
slow to come forward. Sumner was particularly slow. He was ready,
indeed, to admit that a better candidate than Lincoln could be found,
and there was a whisper that the better candidate was himself. However,
he was unconditional that he would not participate in a fight against
Lincoln. If the President could be persuaded to withdraw, that was one
thing. But otherwise--no Sumner in the conspiracy.(3)

Was it possible that Chandler, Wade, Davis and the rest had jumped too
soon? To rebuild the Vindictive Coalition, the group in which Sumner had
a place was essential. This group was composed of Abolitionists, chiefly
New Englanders, and for present purpose their central figure was Andrew,
the Governor of Massachusetts. During the latter half of August, the
fate of the Conspiracy hung on the question, Can Andrew and his group be
drawn in?

Andrew did not like the President. He was one of those who never got
over their first impression of the strange new man of 1861. He insisted
that Lincoln lacked the essential qualities of a leader. "To comprehend
this objection," says his frank biographer, "which to us seems so
astoundingly wide of the mark, we must realize that whenever the New
Englander of that generation uttered the word 'leader' his mind's
eye was filled with the image of Daniel Webster . . . his commanding
presence, his lofty tone about affairs of state, his sonorous profession
of an ideal, his whole ex cathedra attitude. All those characteristics
supplied the aristocratic connotation of the word 'leader' as required
by a community i