impression at Washington.(6) His eyes opened in a startled realization
that there were worlds he could not conquer. The Washington of the
'forties was far indeed from a great capital; it was as friendly to
conventional types of politician as was Springfield or Vandalia. The man
who could deal in ideas as political counters, the other man who knew
the subtleties of the art of graft, both these were national as well as
local figures. Personal politics were also as vicious at Washington as
anywhere; nevertheless, there was a difference, and in that difference
lay the secret of Lincoln's failure. He was keen enough to grasp the
difference, to perceive the clue to his failure. In a thousand ways,
large and small, the difference came home to him. It may all be
symbolized by a closing detail of his stay. An odd bit of incongruity
was the inclusion of his name in the list of managers of the Inaugural
Ball of 1849. Nothing of the sort had hitherto entered into his
experience. As Mrs. Lincoln was not with him he joined "a small party of
mutual friends" who attended the ball together. As one of them relates,
"he was greatly interested in all that was to be seen and we did not
take our departure until three or four o'clock in the morning."(7)
What an ironic picture--this worthy provincial, the last word for
awkwardness, socially as strange to such a scene as a little child,
spending the whole night gazing intently at everything he could see,
at the barbaric display of wealth, the sumptuous gowns, the brilliant
uniforms, the distinguished foreigners, and the leaders of America, men
like Webster and Clay, with their air of assured power, the men he had
failed to impress. This was his valedictory at Washington. He went home
and told Herndon that he had committed political suicide.(8) He had met
the world and the world was too strong for him.

And yet, what was wrong? He had been popular at Washington, in the same
way in which he had been popular at Springfield. Why had the same sort