The Time Will Come, and it begins with Orville Brown­ing writ­ing to Abra­ham Lin­coln con­cern­ing the upcom­ing inau­gur­al address. Brown­ing was deeply con­cerned about the tone of Lin­col­n’s speech, par­tic­u­lar­ly a pas­sage regard­ing the recla­ma­tion of pub­lic prop­er­ties. He feared that such a state­ment could pro­voke the seces­sion­ists and esca­late ten­sions with the South­ern states. In his let­ter, Brown­ing empha­sized the impor­tance of fram­ing the seces­sion­ists as the aggres­sors, a strat­e­gy he believed would help avoid fur­ther provo­ca­tion, espe­cial­ly among the bor­der states that remained unde­cid­ed. Brown­ing also expressed his belief that the issue of slav­ery in the South would soon become an unavoid­able con­cern, urg­ing Lin­coln to pre­pare for this inevitable polit­i­cal chal­lenge. This would even­tu­al­ly play a sig­nif­i­cant role in shap­ing Lin­col­n’s poli­cies and lead­er­ship.

Lin­coln took Browning’s advice to heart, and revi­sions were made to his inau­gur­al address. He wrote on the back of Browning’s let­ter, “Amer­i­cans, all, we are not ene­mies, but friends,” sig­nal­ing his com­mit­ment to nation­al uni­ty despite the loom­ing threat of divi­sion. Lincoln’s adjust­ments were aimed at heal­ing the rift between the North and the South, and he worked to deliv­er a mes­sage of rec­on­cil­i­a­tion. How­ev­er, the com­plex­i­ty of the nation­al sit­u­a­tion could not be ignored, and the theme of pre­serv­ing the Union was infused with the weight of the impend­ing con­flict. Lincoln’s care­ful word­ing reflect­ed a com­mit­ment to bridg­ing the ide­o­log­i­cal gap and forg­ing a path for­ward, despite the grow­ing ten­sions that threat­ened to pull the nation apart.

As Lin­coln con­tin­ued his jour­ney to Wash­ing­ton, D.C., his stops along the way were marked by grow­ing enthu­si­asm from the pub­lic, many of whom had already heard of his arrival. Crowds gath­ered in var­i­ous towns to catch a glimpse of the pres­i­dent-elect, and office seek­ers swarmed around Lin­coln in hopes of secur­ing posi­tions with­in his admin­is­tra­tion. Each stop brought with it a mix of admi­ra­tion and polit­i­cal maneu­ver­ing, as Lin­coln encoun­tered cit­i­zens eager to meet him. Notably, he also inter­act­ed with jour­nal­ists, such as Horace Gree­ley, who were keen to report on the polit­i­cal cli­mate of the time. These exchanges were marked by a sense of both excite­ment and polit­i­cal intrigue, as Lin­col­n’s every move was scru­ti­nized, and his respons­es often offered insight into his polit­i­cal phi­los­o­phy.

Dur­ing his time in Albany, Lin­coln wit­nessed an event that would lat­er gar­ner sig­nif­i­cant media atten­tion: a dra­mat­ic per­for­mance by John Wilkes Booth. The famous actor, known for his the­atri­cal flair, fell on stage in a man­ner that cap­tured the crowd’s atten­tion, a moment that was lat­er report­ed wide­ly. How­ev­er, the inci­dent had a sub­tle impact on Lin­coln, as it rein­forced the notion of per­for­mance and spec­ta­cle sur­round­ing his trav­els, which were increas­ing­ly being seen as both a polit­i­cal and cul­tur­al event. When Lin­coln final­ly reached New York City on Feb­ru­ary 19, the atten­tion sur­round­ing him was at its peak, with poet Walt Whit­man offer­ing detailed accounts of his demeanor and pres­ence. Whitman’s obser­va­tions paint­ed a vivid pic­ture of the pres­i­dent-elect, cap­tur­ing both his stature and the grow­ing pub­lic fas­ci­na­tion with him.

Despite the pub­lic adu­la­tion, there were grow­ing con­cerns about Lincoln’s health and safe­ty. Detec­tive Kate Warne, ever vig­i­lant about poten­tial threats, not­ed that Lin­coln appeared fatigued and unwell. She met with an aide to voice her con­cerns about the secu­ri­ty risks sur­round­ing Lincoln’s trav­els, although these threats were ini­tial­ly dis­missed as unfound­ed. The height­ened aware­ness of poten­tial dan­ger was a con­stant under­cur­rent dur­ing Lincoln’s jour­ney, espe­cial­ly as ten­sions grew between the North and South. In New York, show­man P. T. Bar­num saw an oppor­tu­ni­ty to prof­it from the spec­ta­cle of Lincoln’s trav­els, turn­ing his depar­ture into a pub­lic event at his muse­um, although Lin­coln him­self did not par­tic­i­pate in this pro­mo­tion­al effort.

After attend­ing a per­for­mance of Verdi’s opera, Lin­coln con­tin­ued his jour­ney to Philadel­phia on Feb­ru­ary 21. Upon his arrival, a large crowd eager­ly await­ed him, and Lin­coln seized the moment to address the esca­lat­ing seces­sion cri­sis head-on. He made a firm state­ment against seces­sion, empha­siz­ing the impor­tance of pre­serv­ing the Union at all costs. His speech, deliv­ered in the midst of win­try con­di­tions, was met with resound­ing approval from the crowd. The pow­er­ful rhetoric Lin­coln employed reflect­ed his com­mit­ment to the Union and laid the ground­work for the nation’s next steps in the face of immi­nent civ­il war. His words res­onat­ed deeply with the peo­ple, rein­forc­ing his resolve to face the cri­sis head-on and ensur­ing that his stance would be remem­bered as a defin­ing moment in his pres­i­den­cy.

As Lincoln’s jour­ney con­tin­ued, the weight of the nation­al cri­sis hung over him, but his pub­lic inter­ac­tions helped rein­force his image as a leader who was both res­olute and deter­mined. The grow­ing divi­sion between the North and South, marked by the seces­sion of South­ern states, only height­ened the stakes of his pres­i­den­cy. How­ev­er, Lincoln’s speech­es and actions indi­cat­ed his com­mit­ment to doing what­ev­er was nec­es­sary to pre­serve the Union, sig­nal­ing his readi­ness for the mon­u­men­tal chal­lenges ahead. The sense of duty he dis­played dur­ing these ear­ly days set the tone for his pres­i­den­cy and helped shape the nar­ra­tive of his lead­er­ship, which would soon face the full brunt of the Civ­il War.