The election of Lincoln was the second great political revolution in the history of the country, and it came with fearful import. The revolution won by Jefferson in 1800 simply displaced the Federalists, gave authority to the Republicans, and liberalized the policy of the Government. The revolution that brought Lincoln into the Presidency was the first popular expression emphasizing the purpose of the nation to halt the extension of slavery; and while the Republican policy meant no more than to prevent slavery extension, it was well understood in the South that it menaced the safety of slavery even where it was then undisputed. The Southerners had little tolerance for Republicanism. They had seen it grow from the despised Abolition cranks to the Republican party that had dominated Congress before it elected a President. Republicans in Congress were seldom treated with respect by their Southern associates, and often the most wanton and flagrant insults were given them not only on the floor of the House but on other occasions. Personal encounters disgraced the record of both House and Senate, and the most respectable term the South ever applied to antislavery members was that of “Black Republican.” Even in Philadelphia, that became the most loyal of all cities, nearly the whole commercial and financial interests were arrayed against Lincoln, because they regarded the Republican party as disturbers of national tranquillity and of all the interests of trade. So strong was the conservative element among the old Whigs in that State that the name of Republican had to be discarded. Curtin was elected Governor as the candidate of the “People’s party,” and the delegates to the Chicago convention represented only that organization. When Lincoln’s election was announced the Democrats could not reconcile themselves to the mastery of a party they had so openly and persistently despised. I witnessed an interesting episode in Philadelphia, on the night of Curtin’s election. The Prince of Wales was then on a visit to this country, and had just arrived at the Continental Hotel in Philadelphia. My headquarters as chairman of the Lincoln committee were at the Girard House immediately opposite, and I saw the handsome young Prince, then a picture of manly vigor and beauty, stand on the Chestnut Street balcony for an hour, surrounded by his suite of nobles, watching what he regarded as the dying agonies of the Republic. The main streets of the city were crowded with shouting, wrangling, and rioting partisans, and the Prince obviously congratulated himself that he had just happened in this country in time to see its angry dissolution. He witnessed the riotous enthusiasm of the Republicans, and the much more riotous madness of the defeated party, until he wearied of it, and he was astounded the next morning to discover that the city was as quiet and serene as an average Philadelphia Sunday.