These two incidents disclose the simplicity, hopefulness, patriotism, wisdom, magnanimity, and freedom from a partisan spirit which proved so helpful to the President from the beginning of his rule.

Mr. Lincoln kept sacred the words of his inaugural address—“You can have no conflict without being yourselves the aggressors.” But when the first gun was fired upon Fort Sumter, in Charleston harbour, the South became the aggressors. That was on the 12th day of April, 1861. On the previous afternoon, General Beauregard, who commanded the rebel forces, ordered the commander of the fort—Major Robert Anderson—to surrender. The major replied,—

“My sense of honour and duty compel me to hold the fort for my government.”

“Shall you treat the city as a hostile town?” he was asked.

“Only if I am compelled to do so,” was his noble reply

So careful had the President been of offering any provocation to the enemy to fire upon our flag, that he sent an unarmed vessel, instead of a man-of-war, with supplies to the half-starved garrison; and the vessel was not allowed to deliver the supplies—the rebel troops prevented.

At half-past four o’clock on the morning of the twelfth, the bombardment was opened by twelve thousand troops, nearly twenty thousand more being spectators. It was more than two hours before the garrison replied, Major Anderson thus allowing the insurgents to prove unmistakably their treasonable designs to the world. All through the day and the following night the terrible cannonade was continued, the gallant band within the fort standing by their guns until the barracks took fire, compelling them to roll ninety-six barrels of powder into the sea, and exhaust themselves in extinguishing the flames. In the afternoon of the thirteenth the garrison surrendered upon terms perfectly satisfactory to Major Anderson, and they marched out of the fort with flags flying and drums beating, taking all their private property with them, and saluting the stars and stripes with fifty guns. The enemy had hurled two thousand three hundred and sixty-one shot and nine hundred and eighty shells at the fort when it passed into their hands.

The news of the fall of Sumter flashed over the land, and awakened the loyal people to the dangers of the hour. The aggressors had settled what the policy of the President must be. War against the Government had begun, and the appeal to arms must be accepted. Hence the call for seventy-five thousand troops and the interview with Mr. Douglas to which reference has been made. From that time President Lincoln was occupied in efforts to conquer the rebellion—creating an army and navy; raising money to carry on warlike preparations; securing necessary legislation, and other things indispensable to the national defence. Not the least of all his labours was acquainting himself with military affairs and the best way of saving the Republic. For he was President, and no one else. While ever ready to accept advice, and even to seek advice from more experienced public servants in both civil and military life, by which he shaped or corrected his own opinions, he reserved the final decision to himself. A leading member of the cabinet remarked, on one occasion,

“The President is his own war-minister. He directs personally the movements of the armies, and is fond of strategy; but pays much less attention to official duties than is generally supposed.”

It was so with all measures, whether civil or military. While the head of each department was left untrammelled in his particular work, and was held responsible for the proper conduct of its affairs by the President, the latter never relinquished his right of judgment. For example, in his annual report to Congress, Senator Cameron advised arming the slaves that they might rise successfully against their masters—a measure that had been persistently urged upon the President. As Mr. Lincoln reserved the right of supervising affairs, knowing that the great public would hold him responsible, he carefully read the report. When he came to that recommendation, surprised and almost indignant he drew his pen across it, remarking,—

“This will never do. Secretary Cameron must take no such responsibility. That is a question that belongs exclusively to me.”