It is certain that every man who knew anything of the inner workings of American politics, or of Cabinet secrets, during the war, will testify that no President ever did so much himself, and relied as little on others, as Lincoln. The most important matters were decided by him alone. He would listen to his Cabinet, or to anybody, and shrewdly avail himself of information or of ideas, but no human being ever had the slightest personal _influence_ on him. Others might look up the decisions and precedents, or suggest the legal axioms for him, but he invariably managed the case, though with all courtesy and deference to his diplomatic junior counsel. He was brought every day into serious argument with the wisest, shrewdest, and most experienced men, both foreign and American, but his own intelligence invariably gave him the advantage. And it is not remarkable that the man who had been too much for Judge Douglas should hold his own with any one. While he was President, his wonderful powers of readily acquiring the details of any subject were thoroughly tested, and as President, he perfected the art of dealing with men. One of his French biographers, amazed at the constantly occurring proofs of his personal influence, assures his readers that, “during the war, Lincoln showed himself an organiser of the first class. A new Carnot, he created armies by land and navies by sea, raised militia, appointed generals, directed public affairs, defended them by law, and overthrew the art of maritime war by building and launching his terrible monitors. He showed himself a finished diplomatist, and protected the interests of every one. His success attested the mutual confidence of people and President in their common patriotism. The emancipation of the slaves crowned his grand policy.” If some of these details appear slightly exaggerated, it must be borne in mind that all this and more appears to be literally true to any foreigner who, in studying Lincoln’s life, learns what a prodigious amount of work was executed by him, and to what a degree he impressed his own mind on everything. He either made a shrewd remark or told a story with every signature to any remarkable paper, and from that day the document, the deed, and the story were all remembered in common.