This temper of the final Lincoln, his supreme detachment, the kind impersonality of his intellectual approach, has no better illustration in his state papers.  He further revealed it in a more intimate way.  The day he sent the message to Congress, he also submitted to the Senate a nomination to the great office of Chief Justice.  When Taney died in the previous September, there was an eager stir among the friends of Chase.  They had hopes but they felt embarrassed.  Could they ask this great honor, the highest it is in the power of the American President to be-stow, for a man who had been so lacking in candor as Chase had been?  Chase’s course during the summer had made things worse.  He had played the time-server.  No one was more severe upon Lincoln in July; in August, he hesitated, would not quite commit himself to the conspiracy but would not discourage it; almost gave it his blessing; in September, but not until it was quite plain that the conspiracy was failing, he came out for Lincoln.  However, his friends in the Senate overcame their embarrassment—­how else could it be with Senators?—­and pressed his case.  And when Senator Wilson, alarmed at the President’s silence, tried to apologize for Chase’s harsh remarks about the President, Lincoln cut him short.  “Oh, as to that, I care nothing,” said he.  The embarrassment of the Chase propaganda amused him.  When Chase himself took a hand and wrote him a letter, Lincoln said to his secretary, “What is it about?” “Simply a kind and friendly letter,” replied the secretary.  Lincoln smiled.  “File it with the other recommendations,” said he.(2)

He regarded Chase as a great lawyer, Taney’s logical successor.  All the slights the Secretary had put upon the President, the intrigues to supplant him, the malicious sayings, were as if they had never occurred.  When Congress assembled, it was Chase’s name that he sent to the Senate.  It was Chase who, as Chief Justice, administered the oath at Lincoln’s second inauguration.

Long since, Lincoln had seen that there had ceased to any half-way house in the matter of emancipation.  His thoughts were chiefly upon the future.  And as mere strategy, he saw that slavery had to be got out of the way.  It was no longer a question, who liked this, who did not.  To him, the ultimate issue was the restoration of harmony among the States.  Those States which had been defeated in the dread arbitrament of battle, would in any event encounter difficulties, even deadly perils, in the narrow way which must come after defeat and which might or might not lead to rehabilitation.

Remembering the Vindictive temper, remembering the force and courage of the Vindictive leaders, it was imperative to clear the field of the slavery issue before the reconstruction issue was fairly launched.  It was highly desirable to commit to the support of the governments the whole range of influences that were in earnest about emancipation.  Furthermore, the South itself was drifting in the same direction.  In his interview with Gilmore and Jaquess, Davis had said:  “You have already emancipated nearly two millions of our slaves; and if you will take care of them, you may emancipate the rest.  I had a few when the war began.  I was of some use to them; they never were of any to me."(3)