In the November 8 election Lincoln lost New York City to McClellan by about 37,000 votes, but managed to carry the state by a margin of 6,749. Maria Lydig Daly reflected on the election results.
November 15, 1864
The election has taken place. Lincoln has been reelected. Vox Populi, vox Dei. So it must be for the best. All now left us is to put the shoulder to the wheel and do our best to draw the governmental machine out of the slough. There was some ill feeling about General Butler’s being sent here to overawe the election. However, there seems to be little ill feeling on either side—a hopeful sign for the country. It is well that Lincoln has so large a majority, as now there will be no one to lay the blame upon.
I wish our political parsons could be done away with together with slavery. What autocrats they are! Beecher, a few Sundays since, before he began to preach, announced: “I am going to preach a political sermon, and if anyone does not like it, he can leave the church.” A man rose up and gave three cheers for McClellan.
Poor McClellan! What a lesson he has had of the instability of popular favor and of fair-weather friends. None of his old companions-in-arms, hardly, have voted for him, and the reason is clear—it would not be the way to promotion. A lady said to me a few days since, “What, your husband votes for McClellan and you have a brother in the army?”
Yesterday, Mr. Theodore Fay from Bremen, our former minister to Prussia, came in. He is for Lincoln and quoted what he called “Mr. Lincoln’s very appropriate though homely saying that a countryman in crossing a dangerous stream or ford would not willingly change horses.” I answered very mildly that Mr. Lincoln was very happy in these little sayings, that like in Scripture, you could always find a story or text to suit the occasion. Now those who, like my husband, voted for McClellan, could quote another of his aphorisms as their excuse. When removing some General (Rosecrans, I believe), he said, “They that made the mess are not exactly the ones to finish it.” Mr. Fay, however, is a perfectly sincere and conscientious man.
Butler has been serenaded and feted as though he had saved the country, whereas he did nothing. It was the policy of the Democrats to keep the peace, as they wanted to poll as many votes as possible, whereas the policy of the others was to institute, if possible, martial law. The Judge was asked to meet him on Saturday, but he did not go. Beecher, at the Loyal League Club, proposed him as the next President. In Butler’s speech, he adopts McClellan’s ideas and thinks everything should now be done to make peace.
Darley and his wife spent the evening with us. The Judge got out his theatrical portraits, I brought forward some doppel-kümmel and cake, and we had quite a pleasant time around the blazing woodfire until twelve o’clock. Sunday likewise we had company: Mr. Hackett, Mr. Young, and Mr. Dykes. Tonight I am alone. The Judge has gone out with a great friend of his, a bookworm like himself, to see another of their species, and I shall write up all my letters. His “Chancellor Kent,” I think, will be a great success. He has been much complimented on the opening chapters.
I have been writing an article explaining the reasons that we cannot find American goods and exposing the tricks of the manufacturers and shopkeepers, which Mr. Field has promised to publish.
Mrs. Dana came in to bid me good-by, and very kindly invited us to come and stay with her in Washington. Her husband is Assistant Secretary of War. I thought it very kind of her but declined. If I go at all, it will be only as the guest of Baron Gerolt. The dear old gentleman has just left us after a stay of a fortnight. I like him every day more and more. He is so good a Christian, so wise and observing, and so amiable and generous.