nomination,
therefore, he calmly ignored the platform, and renewed his assurances
of devotion to the Union, the Constitution, and the flag of his country.
But the stars in their courses fought against him. Even before the
Democratic convention met, the tide of battle had turned. The darkest
hour of the war had passed, and dawn was at hand, and amid the
thanksgivings of a grateful people, and the joyful salute of great guns,
the real presidential campaign began. The country awoke to the true
meaning of the Democratic platform; General Sherman's successes in
the South excited the enthusiasm of the people; and when at last the
Unionists, rousing from their midsummer languor, began to show their
faith in the Republican candidate, the hopelessness of all efforts to
undermine him became evident.

XII. THE CONQUEROR OF A GREAT REBELLION

The presidential election of 1864 took place on November 8. The diary of
one of the President's secretaries contains a curious record of the way
the day passed at the Executive Mansion. "The house has been still and
almost deserted. Everybody in Washington and not at home voting seems
ashamed of it, and stays away from the President. While I was talking
with him to-day he said: 'It is a little singular that I, who am not a
vindictive man, should always have been before the people for election
in canvasses marked for their bitterness. Always but once. When I came
to Congress it was a quiet time; but always besides that the contests in
which I have been prominent have been marked with great rancor.'"

Early in the evening the President made his way through rain and
darkness to the War Department to receive the returns. The telegrams
came, thick and fast, all pointing joyously to his reelection. He sent
the important ones over to Mrs. Lincoln at the White House, remarking,
"She is more anxious that I am." The satisfaction of one member of the
little group about him was coupled with the wish that the critics of the
administration might feel properly rebuked by this strong expression
of the popular will. Mr. Lincoln looked at him in kindly surprise.
"You have more of that feeling of personal resentment than I," he said.
"Perhaps I have too little of it, but I never thought it paid. A man has
not time to spend half his life in quarrels. If any man ceases to attack
me, I never remember the past against him." This state of mind
might well have been called by a higher name than "lack of person