The effect of this abuse and opposition was exceedingly painful to Lincoln.  He said:  “I have been caused more anxiety, I have passed more sleepless nights, on account of the temper and attitude of the Democratic party in the North regarding the suppression of the rebellion than by the rebels in the South.  I have always had faith that our armies would ultimately and completely triumph; but these enemies in the North cause me a great deal of anxiety and apprehension.  Can it be that there are opposing opinions in the North as to the necessity of putting down this rebellion?  How can men hesitate a moment as to the duty of the Government to restore its authority in every part of the country?  It is incomprehensible to me that men living in their quiet homes under the protection of laws, in possession of their property, can sympathize with and give aid and comfort to those who are doing their utmost to overthrow that Government which makes life and everything they possess valuable.”

In January, 1863, a party of distinguished gentlemen from Boston visited the national capital, in order to confer with the President on the workings of the emancipation policy.  They made the visit chiefly at the suggestion of Ralph Waldo Emerson, who during all the trying years of the war never lost faith in Lincoln’s honesty and sense of justice.  Secretary Stanton made no secret of his opposition to these gentlemen, who were spoken of rather slightingly as “that Boston set.”  The “Boston set” were uncompromising abolitionists, and nothing would satisfy them but immediate and aggressive measures for enforcing the policy of emancipation.  As it was the President’s instinct to feel his way slowly in pushing on the great measures necessary to the safe guidance of the nation in its perilous crisis, they were naturally dissatisfied with his conservative methods and tendencies.  The visitors—­including Senator Wilson, Wendell Phillips, Francis W. Bird, Elizur Wright, J.H.  Stephenson, George L. Stearns, Oakes Ames, and Moncure D. Conway—­called on the President one Sunday evening, at the White House.  “The President met us,” says Mr. Conway, “laughing like a boy, saying that in the morning one of his children had come to inform him that the cat had kittens, and now another had just announced that the dog had puppies, and the White House was in a decidedly sensational state.  Some of our party looked a little glum at this hilarity; but it was pathetic to see the change in the President’s face when he presently resumed his burden of care.  We were introduced by Senator Wilson, who began to speak of us severally, when Mr. Lincoln said he knew perfectly who we were, and requested us to be seated.  Nothing could be more gracious than his manner, or more simple.  The conversation was introduced by Wendell Phillips, who, with all his courtesy, expressed our gratitude and joy at the Proclamation of Emancipation, and asked how it seemed to be working.  The President