that primitive blood-lust which lies dormant in every
peaceful nation like a sleeping beast. This dreadful power rose out
of its sleep and confronted, menacing, the statesman who of all our
statesmen was most keenly aware of its evil, most determined to put it
under or to perish in the attempt With its appearance, the deepest of
all the issues involved, according to Lincoln's way of thinking, was
brought to a head. Was the Republic to issue from the war a worthy or
an unworthy nation? That was pretty definitely a question of whether
Abraham Lincoln or, say, Zachary Chandler, was to control its policy.

A vain, weak man precipitated the inevitable struggle between these two.
Fremont had been flattered to the skies. He conceived himself a genius.
He was persuaded that the party of the new temper, the men who may
fairly be called the Vindictives, were lords of the ascendent. He
mistook their volubility for the voice of the nation. He determined to
defy Lincoln. He issued a proclamation freeing the slaves of all who
had "taken an active part" with the enemies of the United States in the
field. He set up a "bureau of abolition."

Lincoln first heard of Fremont's proclamation through the newspapers.
His instant action was taken in his own extraordinarily gentle way. "I
think there is great danger," he wrote, "that the closing paragraph (of
Fremont's proclamation) in relation to the confiscation of property and
the liberating of slaves of traitorous owners, will alarm our Southern
Union friends and turn them against us; perhaps ruin our rather fair
prospect for Kentucky. Allow me, therefore, to ask that you will, as
of your own motion, modify that paragraph so as to conform" to the
Confiscation Act. He added, "This letter is written in the Spirit of
caution, not of censure."(11)

Fremont was not the man to understand instruction of this sort. He would
make no compromise with the President. If Lincoln wished to go over
his head and rescind his order let him do so-and take the consequences.
Lincoln quietly did so. His battle with the Vindictives was on. For
a moment it seemed as if he had destroyed his cause. So loud was the
outcry of the voluble people, that any one might have been excused
momentarily for thinking that all the North had risen against him. Great
meetings of protest were held. Eminent men--even such fine natures as
Bryant--condemned his course. In the wake of the incident, when it was
impossible to say how sig