Burlington, Iowa, February 2, 1860.
Particular Pike: The
ills of a congested liver, brought on by attempting to decipher a letter of the
First of the Tribunes, addressed to me from Galesburg, Ill., have been
much assuaged by your comforting letter of the 29th of January. When I look at
a bald head, I expect to find under its polished surface good sense. Horace is
an exceptional case. I am glad you agree with me about Edward Bates. I have no doubt
Blair is right about him (Bates). He is with us in sentiment and sympathy. But,
in the language of Daniel the Dark, “What is all this worth” for a President?
For a church-warden or a congregational deacon I should be for him, with both
hands up. What business have we to nominate and elect a man President who has
never been in political life, who has no taste for politics, and no personal
knowledge of public men? If I had had any room for a favorable impression of
his qualities beyond my slight acquaintance with him, Peter Parley's
indorsement would finish it out. The paper was bad enough before, as the bank
president said, “but with that indorsement it is not worth a d—n.” For God's
sake let us look to life and not to resurrection for our success in '60. I go
in for electing; but why go into the bowels of Niggerdom for a candidate? If
you can carry Missiouri for Bates, you can carry Arkansas for him ; and you can
lift yourself up by the waistband daily for ten years before you can do either.
The King of Terrors has a large work to do in Missouri before any Republican
candidate can touch bottom there. I pray to be spared the anguish of voting for
any man who can get this electoral vote.
With regard to the
governor, the slender chance he had has gone out with John Sherman. Possibly
you know what we have gained by electing old Pennington; I don't. I would far
rather have been beaten with E. than to have backed down from him. I am
consoled somewhat that it was not Corwin.
Pitt Fessenden
would make a President after my own heart. But he is too near the “open Polar
sea.” Uncle Dan's telescope could not discern the North Star, and your feeble
lens can hardly reach it. If he lived in Iowa, or Greeley's paradise of
bullfrogs, Indiana, he might come in; but we can't go into the tall timber of
Maine. The question now recurs on the original question, “Who are you (I) for?”
I am for the man who can carry Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Indiana, with this
reservation, that I will not go into cemetery or catacomb; the candidate must
be alive, and able to walk at least from parlor to dining-room. I am willing to
take the opinions of the delegates from those States on this point. But if the
choice is to be between King Stork and King Log, count me in for the former. I
had rather have a President who would take me by the nape of the neck and kick
me down stairs, than to have one who would smile me out with the hypocritical
leer of that greatest of all nuisances in the White House, Millard Fillmore.
Very truly,
Fitz henry Warren.
SOURCE: James Shepherd Pike, First Blows of the
Civil War: The Ten Years of Preliminary Conflict in the United States from 1850
to 1860, p. 483-4
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