Team of Rivals_ The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln - Doris Kearns Goodwin [425]
If McClellan’s victory “was expected,” George Templeton Strong confided to his diary, “the baseness of the platform on which he is to run was unexpected. Jefferson Davis might have drawn it. The word ‘rebel’ does not occur in it. It contemplates surrender and abasement.” Pressed upon the party by the peace contingent, the platform declared that “after four years of failure to restore the Union by the experiment of war,” the time had come to “demand that immediate efforts be made for a cessation of hostilities.” Strong predicted that if McClellan agreed to represent this dishonorable platform, “he condemns his name to infamy.” Indeed, it was rumored that he would “decline a nomination on such terms.” For Democrats, the capitulation called for in their platform proved to be exceedingly ill timed.
Three days later came the stunning news that Atlanta had fallen. “Atlanta is ours, and fairly won,” Sherman wired Washington on September 3. This joyous news, which followed on the heels of Admiral David Farragut’s capture of Mobile Bay, Alabama, prompted Lincoln to order that one hundred guns be fired in Washington and a dozen other cities to celebrate the victories. Jubilant headlines filled Northern newspapers. “Atlanta is ours,” the New York Times repeated. “The foundries, furnaces, rolling-mills, machine-shops, laboratories and railroad repair-shops; the factories of cannon and small arms; of powder, cartridges and percussion caps; of gun carriages, wagons, ambulances, harnesses, shoes and clothing, which have been accumulated at Atlanta, are ours now”—although, unbeknownst to the Times, the departing Confederates had set fire to nearly “everything of military value.” Still, George Templeton Strong instantly understood the importance of Atlanta’s fall. “Glorious news this morning,” he exulted, “it is (coming at this political crisis) the greatest event of the war.”
Seward received the news from the War Department while seated in his library in Auburn, where he had finally escaped for a few days to see his family. He had barely finished reading Stanton’s telegram before a crowd gathered at his house to celebrate. As the news spread, the crowd swelled until it spilled over to the park adjoining his residence. “Flags were hoisted in all parts of the city,” a local correspondent reported, “all the bells commenced ringing, and a salvo of one hundred guns was fired.” At the request of the spirited assemblage, which included “several hundred volunteers, who were waiting to be mustered in,” Seward delivered a spontaneous talk that lasted more than an hour.
Seward’s extemporaneous words were considered by one reporter present to be “one of his most impressive and effective speeches.” He remarked that the twin victories should help inspire the three hundred thousand more men—“volunteers, if you will, drafted men if we must”—necessary “to end the war.” He paid homage not only to the sailors and soldiers but to “the wisdom and the energy of the war Administration,” pointing out that “Farragut’s fleet did not make itself, nor did he make it. It was prepared by the Secretary of the Navy. And he that shall record the history of this war impartially will write that, since the days of Carnot [the military organizer of the French Revolution], no man has organized war with ability equal to that of Stanton.” Seward ended with a moving tribute to his friend and president, telling the crowd that nothing was more important than Lincoln’s reelection. “If we do this, the rebellion will perish and leave no root.” The crowd roared its approval.
When Gideon Welles read Seward’s speech, with its generous praise for the Navy Department, he professed himself delighted. “For a man of not very compact thought…often loose in the expressions of his ideas,” Seward had set forth