In 1847, Zeb and Arabella Rudolph decided that their daughter Lucretia needed more of an academic challenge than the local Garrettsville, Ohio, schools could offer.  The fifteen-year old was sent twenty miles away to board at the Geauga Seminary, where she would have the benefit of a classical curriculum.  The Geauga Seminary was coeducational, and one of Lucretia’s fellow pupils there was an awkward and earnest sixteen-year old boy named James Garfield. 

“A prodigy,” Lucretia called him. 

In 1850, Lucretia left the Geauga Seminary and enrolled in the new Hiram Eclectic Institute in Hiram, Ohio.  The following year, Garfield also enrolled at Hiram, and Lucretia experienced the unexpected thrill of meeting “a pair of eyes…as once I looked up from a hard sentence somewhere in the fore part of the Greek grammar.”  It wasn’t exactly love at first conjugation—both she and James were recovering from painful break-ups—but in 1853 James surprised Lucretia with a letter written during an excursion to Niagara Falls, and soon the two were engaged in a full-fledged correspondence. 

At first, they addressed each other as Brother and Sister.  They wrote about the books they were reading, and about their shared enthusiasm for teaching.  James was teaching Latin and Greek at Hiram, and Lucretia was teaching at a public school in Chagrin Falls, and attempting to keep pace with James’s Latin class in reading Virgil. 

“I would like to know how many hundred lines the Virgil class are ahead of me,” she wrote to James in November 1853.

“Today, the Virgil class finished the third book and are going about 50 lines per day,” Jame wrote back on December 8.  “Are you ahead? I presume so.  Won’t you come in to both Greek and Latin in the spring? We miss you very much in these two classes.  What are your views with regard to studying the classics?  Have you reconciled yourself to devoting a few more years to them? I would like to hear your reasonings on the subject.”

Replying six days later, Lucretia confessed that she had laid aside Virgil for the winter.  As to the study of classics in general, she wrote: “Candidly, I will confess that thus far I have prosecuted the study of them without any argument in their favor which appeared to me conclusive.”  She admitted that the study of Greek and Latin provided “rigid mental discipline,” but she wondered if there might be other means of acquiring that discipline. 

“I wish you would convince me of their superior merit if they really possess it,” she wrote; “for I do not like to give them up—neither do I like to continue in them feeling that precious moments are being wasted…”

This discussion continued in several letters over the following months.  Meanwhile, James quietly dropped the pretense of calling her Sister, and soon Lucretia was sending James her “warmest love.”  In March 1854, the subject of marriage was raised.

James A. Garfield—veteran of Shiloh and Chickamauga, Union general, and twentieth President of the United States—courted his wife with a debate over the value of a classical education. 

The correspondence of James and Lucretia Garfield can be found in John Shaw, ed. Crete and James: Personal Letters of Lucretia and James Garfield (Michigan State University Press 1994).  For a biography of Lucretia Garfield, see John Shaw, Lucretia (Nova History Publications, 2001).  On James Garfield’s study of the classics, see Susan Ford Wiltshire’s essay, “The Classicist President” (.pdf).

“The Cannon Salvo that thundered over Springfield, Illinois, to greet the sunrise on November 6, 1860, signaled not the start of a battle, but the end of one…Election Day was finally dawning.” – Historian Harold Holzer

Abraham Lincoln, however, was not one to rush and vote right after the polling places opened in the morning. He apparently waited until 3:30pm when, as the New York Tribune explained, “the multitude…[had] diminished sufficiently to allow tolerably free passage.” The Tribune’s correspondent described what happened once the crowd realized that Lincoln had arrived:

“at that moment he was suddenly saluted with the wildest outbursts of enthusiasm every yielded by a popular assemblage. All party feelings seemed to be forgotten and even the distributors of opposition tickets joined in the overwhelming demonstrations of greeting…there was only one sentiment expressed – that of the heartiest and most undivided delight at his appearance. Mr. Lincoln advanced as rapidly as possible to the voting table and handed in his ticket, upon which, it is hardly necessary to say, all the names were sound republicans. The only alteration he made was the cutting off of his own name from the top where it had been printed.”

As Holzer explains, “Lincoln modestly cut his own name..from his ticket” and “vot[ed] only for his party’s candidates for state and local office.” Later that evening Lincoln went to the local telegraph office, where he waited for reports on election returns from across the country. “All safe in this state,” as Thurlow Weed explained from Albany, New York. Simon Cameron sent word from Philadelphia, Pennsylvanian, while a report from Alton, Illinois, noted that “[Republicans] have checkmated [Democrats’] scheme of fraud.” “Those who saw [Lincoln] at the time,” as the New York Times observed, “say it would have been impossible for a bystander to tell that that tall, lean, wiry, good-natured, easy-going gentleman…was the choice of the people to fill the most important office in the nation.”

On May 23 and 24, 1865, Union soldiers paraded through Washington D.C. for a grand review of the troops, a celebration from the grateful citizens to the Union soldiers for their efforts and service in winning the Civil War. Noticeably missing from the celebration were the over 180,000 United States Colored Troops who fought along side these troops being honored in the nation’s capital. While denied participation in the “Grand Review of the Armies,” black regiments from Pennsylvania and Massachusetts gathered in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania on November 14, 1865 for their own Grand Review. Thomas Morris Chester, a prominent Harrisburg resident and recruiter of black soldiers served as grand marshal of the Grand Review. The troops marched through the main streets of the Pennsylvania capital to the home of Senator Simon Cameron who delivered a speech honoring the black troops and commending them for their service and sacrifice to the Union. Cameron, an abolitionist and one of the early advocates for using black troops in the war, gratefully acknowledged the soldiers in the speech that was reprinted in the North American and United States Gazette in Philadelphia the following day.

“I cannot let this opportunity pass without thanking the African soldiers for the compliment they have paid me, but more than all to thank them for the great service which they have been to their country in the terrible rebellion. Like all other men, you have your destinies in your own hands, and if you continue to conduct yourselves hereafter as you have in the struggle, you will have all the rights you ask for, all the rights that belong to human beings.”

The report called the celebration a success throughout and estimated that nearly seven thousand blacks attended the Grand Review as well as a sizable white population who came to pay their respects to “those who escaped the perils of a contest in which they risked their lives in defense of the nation honor and support of the constitutional authorities.” One of the prominent black participants was Reverend John Walker Jackson who offered a prayer that served as “a beautiful acknowledgment of the services which the black man rendered in the struggle for American nationality, civilization and freedom. The orator of the event, William Howard Day, discussed the attitude of the colored man and “the prospect which lay before him for improvement, social elevation and the acquirement of political rights.” The Grand Review concluded with a grand ball where the soldiers and those honoring them convened one last time.

After the Republican National Convention selected Abraham Lincoln in May 1860 as their candidate for the 1860 election, some Republican newspaper editors noted that Lincoln was a moderate politician. Lincoln opposed the further extension of slave territory, but he did not call for the end of slavery in the South. Yet some southern editors were quick to characterize him as a dangerous radical who would destroy slavery and the Union. The Fayetteville (NC) Observer, which supported the Constitutional Union party, called Lincoln an “ultra abolitionist.” Republicans “[had]… selected [him] to split the Union,” as the Democratic Charleston (SC) Courier explained. Other editors focused on the threat from the Republican party’s “objects” rather than a specific candidate. The (Jackson) Mississippian, a Democratic paper, observed that the “Black Republican’s” overall objective “[was] to degrade the southern States from their positions of equality in the Union and to destroy their social and political institutions.” One might assume that these editors would support secession after Lincoln’s victory. While that was true for the Charleston (SC) Courier and the The (Jackson) Mississippian, the Fayetteville (NC) Observer supported unionists until President Lincoln called for volunteers after Confederates attacked Fort Sumter in April 1861.

Cumberland County History, a historical journal compiled annually by the Cumberland County Historical Society, has provided nearly three decades of research into the county’s long history. The journal has published several articles on Civil War soldiers from the surrounding community. They utilize several primary documents and effectively offer insight into the emotional departure from loved ones, the lives of soldiers during the war, and the enemy just beyond the Mason-Dixon Line.

James A. Holechek features the Civil War experiences of John Cantilion in his article “From Carlisle and Fort Couch: The War of Corporal John A. Cantilion.” By tracing his service in the United States army through to his untimely death in November 1863, Holechek surmises the emotions inherent to leaving loved ones behind as a soldier and, conversely, watching a loved one leave to fight in battle. Letters became the only connection between Cantilion and his wife and children. Accordingly, Holechek used these letters as a window into how the separation affected both parties.

The letters of Lt. Thomas William Sweeny are discussed and provided in part in “Carlisle Barracks –1854-1855: From the Letters of Lt. Thomas W. Sweeny, 2nd Infantry,” edited by Robert Coyer. Sweeny stayed in the Carlisle Barracks for some time during the 1850s before moving to Missouri as a general recruiter for the Union. His time spent in Missouri, as argued by Coyer, “played a major part in keeping the state from seceding.” Most of Coyer’s article centers around several letters he wrote to his wife through 1854 and 1855, part of the time he spent at the Barracks. Though these letters could not note the anguish of separation of loved ones during the war, the tense and difficult relations between the couple become apparent when reading even the first letter.

Patricia M. Coolmeyer collects the perspectives of Civil War soldiers from southern Pennsylvania through the extensive use of personal letters, diaries, and local newspapers. Her article, “Southern Sentiments: A Look at Attitudes of Civil War Soldiers,” illustrates the ways Carlisle, given its geographic proximity to the Mason-Dixon Line, often exchanged its culture and relations with the South. As a result, towns like Carlisle did not uniformly despise the South but rather saw an “active pro-Southern element.” This lack of uniformity emerged in Pennsylvanian soldiers. From one perspective, Union soldiers saw Southerners as “quite a fine looking, gentlemanly set of fellows. Others shaped their perceptions based on the beautiful landscape of the South. Each soldier found different ways to build their allegiance to the Union, but, as Coolmeyer makes clear, it did not always emerge out of a hatred of the South.

The Cumberland County Historical Society has granted us special permission to publish these articles. We encourage readers to utilize their resources, for they have compiled an extensive library filled with primary documents and modern scholarly research. Please consult their website for more information including how to contact the Society.

The most popular American play of the antebellum period was the historical melodrama The Gladiator (1831), by the Philadelphia physician-turned-playwright Robert Montgomery Bird (1806-1854).  Bird wrote the play, but actor Edwin Forrest owned it—literally.  Bird sold Forrest (1806-1872) the rights to the play for $100, and Forrest performed the title role of Spartacus to sold-out houses at least a thousand times between 1831 the end of his career four decades later.

When he saw Forrest in the role of Spartacus in 1846, Walt Whitman wrote that the play was “as full of ‘Abolitionism’ as an egg is of meat.”  Whitman continued: “It is founded on that passage of Roman history where the slaves—Gallic, Spanish, Thracian and African—rose against their masters, and formed themselves into a military organization, and for a time successfully resisted the forces sent to quell them. Running o’er with sentiments of liberty—with eloquent disclaimers of the right of the Romans to hold human beings in bondage—it is a play, this ‘Gladiator,’ calculated to make the hearts of the masses swell responsively to all those nobler manlier aspirations in behalf of mortal freedom!”

But Bird, the playwright, was no abolitionist.  He was afraid of the violence abolitionism would bring down upon the nation.  In his 1836 novel Sheppard Lee, for example, he portrays the institution of slavery as essentially benign, and his fictional slaves as content with their servitude until stirred to insurrection by an abolitionist pamphlet.  The spectre of a slave uprising haunted him. 

The Gladiator was first performed in April 1831, five months before an actual slave rebellion, under the leadership of Nat Turner, erupted in Virginia.  As the news of the rebellion reached Bird, he wrote in his diary: “At this present moment there are 6[00] or 800 armed negroes marching through Southampton County, Va. murdering, ravishing & burning those whom the Grace of God has made their owners—70 killed, principally women & children. If they had but a Spartacus among them—to organize the half million of Virginia, the hundreds of thousands of the other States and to lead them on in the Crusade of Massacre, what a blessed example might they not give to the world of the excellence of slavery! What a field of interest to the playwrites of posterity! Someday we shall have it; and future generations will perhaps remember the horrors of Hayti as a farce compared with the tragedies of our own unhappy land! The vis et amor sceleratus habendi [force and criminal love of gain] will be repaid, violence with violence, & avarice with blood…”

Meanwhile, Edwin Forrest continued to pack houses with his portrayal of Spartacus.  And in 1860, Matthew Brady produced a series of photographs of Forrest in costume for his most popular roles, including Spartacus.  The National Portrait Gallery has a web exhibit of Brady’s photographs of Forrest.  Fellow photographer Marcus Aurelius Root called them Brady’s “most remarkable productions…for artistic effect.”

The Battle of Nashville took place on December 15-16, 1864 in Davidson County, Tennessee as a part of the Franklin-Nashville Campaign.  Beginning in November 1864, Confederate General John Bell Hood led the Army of Tennessee towards Nashville in a last attempt to move Union Major General William T. Sherman out of Georgia.  By December 1, 1864 Union Major General George H. Thomas and his forces reached Nashville and spent the next two weeks preparing for battle.  The fighting began in the morning on December 15 with most of the Union assaults on the Confederates ending successfully.  The following day, the Union troops charged the Confederate forces and made them abandon Nashville and retreat across the Tennessee River.  The Civil War Preservation Trust’s website offers an article: “The Decisive Battle of Nashville” that provides an overview of the fighting.  The website also includes a map that depicts troop movements on both sides as well as brief biographies of General Hood and General Thomas.  Also, the Battle of Nashville Preservation Society website offers historic sites and photographs related to the battle. Some other resources that may be useful are the Memoir of Major General George H. Thomas and John Bell Hood’s Advance and Retreat: Personal Experiences in the United States and Confederate Armies which could provide contrasting views from commanding officers in both the Union and Confederate Armies to give different perspectives of the battle.  Richard M. McMurry commented on the Battle of Nashville in his book:   

“Late that rainy day, as Hood was conferring with Stewart, the Yankee’s swarmed over Shy’s Hill, annihilating the defenders and sending the remnants of Cheatham’s corps flying off in mad panic.  The rout spread to Stewart’s corps.  Only Lee’s men preserved a semblance of order, as most of the army dissolved and fled southward in darkness and rain.  Hood and other officers tried desperately to rally the fleeing soldiers, but, save for a brave, defiant few who turned to fire at the Federals, their efforts were in vain.  Over the fast thawing ground and through sticky mud, the Confederates made their way southward, while Lee strung his corps across the rear of the army to slow the Yankee pursuit.  All that night Hood’s men jammed the roads southward from Nashville, abandoning wagons and cannons, throwing away muskets, swords, knapsacks, and camp equipment.”

“An Heir to the Throne, or the Next Republican Candidate” satirizes the Republican Party’s stand on slavery in the 1860 presidential election.  Democrats attacked  Abraham Lincoln and the Republican Party for rejecting the expansion of slavery into new territories.  Louis Maurer, the artist of this 1860 Currier & Ives cartoon, depicted the ultimate allegiance between the Republicans and African-Americans, as Horace Greeley (on the left) introduced the black man in the center of the cartoon as the Republican Party’s “next Candidate for the Presidency.” Greeley, the editor of the New York Tribune, came out in favor of Lincoln during the May 1860 Democratic convention in Chicago and used his position in the press to advocate for Lincoln leading up to the election.  In the cartoon, Lincoln’s response flouted any convention of race at the time, by declaring that his party’s new candidate will “prove to the world the superiority of the Colored over the Anglo Saxon race.”

Though the caricature of Lincoln made what would have been, an outrageous statement on the hierarchy of the races, the subject of his assertion—the black man—was still labeled as a “creature.” Maurer actually borrowed this image of a black man from P.T. Barnum’s American Museum exhibit “What is it?” Barnum advertised the exhibit, which ran in New York in 1860, as the link between human beings and monkeys.  An announcement that ran in the March 1, 1860 edition of the New York Tribune attempted to draw in spectators with the attention-grabbing questions: “Is it a lower order of man? or is it a higher development of the monkey? or Is it both in combination?”  The question of race, and of slavery, was on the forefront of Americans’ minds in 1860, adding to the relevance of Barnum’s exhibit.  In addition, Charles Darwin published his ground-breaking scientific work, On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection: Or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life, only months before on November 24, 1859 in London.

“We must for the last time warn all republican voters to look to it that they have the real republican ticket.” – Boston (MA) Advertiser, November 6, 1860

Ballots for the election of 1860 were not printed or approved by any government office or nonpartisan group. Instead, political parties were responsible for producing and distributing their own ballots for election day. As a result, voters had to be careful to ensure that they received a legitimate ballot. One only has to read some of the editorials published before election day to see that fraud was a serious concerns in some parts of the country. If a voter failed to closely examine their ballot, they could end up voting for a different party than they intended.
The Raleigh (NC) Register, a Democratic newspaper, revealed one such “scheme:” “tickets [would have] the caption on them of Douglas and Johnson, but following that will be the Breckinridge and Lane electors.” Political operatives who became involved in these plans only had to find a printer who was willing to create the ballots. “Bribing engravers to engrave the Republican ticket, to violate their pledge of private and professional honor, and make a counterfeit of it, [was] one of their devices,” as the Republican Chicago (IL) Tribune explained. While “read[ing] your ballot before…deposit[ing] it in the box” remained important, one editor also noted that the best way for voters to avoid any problems was simply to not take a ballot from someone they did not know. “The only way to be entirely secure is to take no ballot except from one whom you know to be a regular republican distributor,” as the Boston (MA) Advertiser observed.

Louis Maurer mocked presidential candidate Stephen Douglas in the cartoon “Stephen Finding His Mother.” Through the months leading up to the election in late 1860, Douglas engaged in an unprecedented national campaign tour. In response to critics of his new vote-gathering methods, he falsely claimed to visit his mother when he lead his tour through New York and New England. Using this story as the basis for the cartoon, Maurer shows Columbia as Douglas’ “mother” who, at the urging of Uncle Sam, punishes him for dividing Democrats and bringing scorn from Republicans. She uses a branch labeled the “Maine Law,” a possible reference to Maine’s 1851 temperance law, to “give him the Stripes till he sees Stars.”

By 1860 Stephen Douglas had encountered criticism despite his great achievements in Congress. Maurer’s cartoon, though immediately drawing from Douglas’ “mother” story, connected with other issues. Douglas had begun alienating himself from Southern Democrats as an opponent to the extension of slavery. Critics also cited his close association with the Kansas-Nebraska Act, which determined the extension of slavery based on a state’s majority vote. Though the Act promised the success of this “popular sovereignty” within Kansas and Nebraska, it soon backfired and brought even more tension and violence to the states.

Robert W. Johannsen wrote a leading biography entitled Stephen A. Douglas. The book, available for partial view on Google Books, provides closer analyses of Douglas through the campaign of 1860.