Thus by the close of May, 1861, President Lincoln
looked forth upon a spectacle tolerably definite at
last, and certainly as depressing as ever met the
eyes of a great ruler. Eleven States, with area,
population, and resources abundant for constituting
a powerful nation and sustaining an awful war, were
organized in rebellion; their people were welded into
entire unity of feeling, were enthusiastically resolute,
and were believed to be exceptionally good fighters.
The population of three Border States was divided
between loyalty and disloyalty. The Northern
States, teeming with men and money, had absolutely
no experience whatsoever to enable them to utilize
their vast resources with the promptitude needful
in the instant emergency. There was a notion,
prevalent even among themselves, that they were by
temperament not very well fitted for war; but this
fancy Mr. Lincoln quietly set aside, knowing better.
He also had confidence in the efficiency of Northern
men in practical affairs of any kind whatsoever, and
he had not to tax his patience to see this confidence
vindicated. His appeal for military support seemed
the marvelous word of a magician, and wrought instant
transformation throughout the vast loyal territory.
One half of the male population began to practice the
manual, to drill, and to study the text-books of military
science; the remainder put at least equal energy into
the preparations for equipment; every manufacturer
in the land set the proverbial Yankee enterprise and
ingenuity at work in the adaptation of his machinery
to the production of munitions of war and all the
various outfit for troops. Every foundry, every
mill, and every shipyard was at once diverted from
its accustomed industries in order to supply military
demands; patriotism and profit combined to stimulate
sleepless toil and invention. In a hard-working
community no one had ever before worked nearly so hard
as now. The whole North was in a ferment, and
every human being strained his abilities of mind and
of body to the utmost in one serviceable direction
or another; the wise and the foolish, the men of words
and the men of deeds, the projectors of valuable schemes
and the venders of ridiculous inventions, the applicants
for military commissions and the seekers after the
government’s contracts, all hustled and crowded
each other in feverish eagerness to get at work in
the new condition of things. It was going to
take time for all this energy to produce results,—yet
not a very long time; the President had more patience
than would be needed, and the spirit of his people
reassured him. If the lukewarm, compromising
temper of the past winter had caused him to feel any
lurking anxious doubts as to how the crisis would be
met, such illusive mists were now cleared away in
a moment before the sweeping gale of patriotism.
[132] At New Bedford, in a lecture “which was
interrupted by frequent hisses.” Schouler,
Hist.
of Mass. in the Civil War, i. 44-47.
