The Pathfinder and the President: John C. Fremont, Lincoln, and the Civil War

October 1, 2025

Listen to this episode

Listen and subscribe to the podcast

Join The American Idea’s Listener Email list – get news about upcoming episodes and a chance to offer questions for them, too!

In the annals of American history, certain figures blaze across the national consciousness like meteors—brilliant, spectacular, and ultimately brief. John C. Fremont was such a figure, a man whose fame in the 1850s rivaled that of any celebrity today, yet whose role in the path to emancipation has dimmed to little more than footnotes in Civil War histories. Today’s episode features historian and journalist John Bicknell, and illuminates the fascinating and fraught relationship between Fremont and Lincoln—a relationship that would ultimately shape the very foundation of emancipation during America’s bloodiest conflict.

The Making of a National Icon

Fremont’s rise to prominence reads like an adventure novel penned by destiny itself. As a member of the Army Corps of Topographical Engineers, he led expeditions into the American West that transformed the national imagination. His meticulously detailed reports, crafted with the literary assistance of his brilliant wife Jesse Benton Fremont, became bestsellers that guided thousands of pioneers toward Oregon and California. More importantly, these accounts fundamentally altered how Americans conceived of their continental inheritance, replacing the notion of a “great American desert” with visions of boundless opportunity and natural splendor.

Fortune smiled upon Fremont in ways that seemed almost providential. Gold discovered on land he had purchased near what would become Yosemite National Park made him extraordinarily wealthy without any particular effort on his part. This stroke of luck, combined with his fame as an explorer, propelled him into politics as one of California’s first senators. Yet Fremont’s political evolution proved as dramatic as his geographical discoveries. Though born in Georgia and raised in South Carolina, he gradually moved away from his Southern roots, influenced partly by his father-in-law, Senator Thomas Hart Benton of Missouri, who opposed slavery’s expansion despite being a slaveholder himself.

When the nascent Republican Party, founded on the principle of preventing slavery’s westward expansion, sought a presidential nominee in 1856, Fremont represented an ideal choice. His nomination marked a watershed moment—the first time a major political party had seriously opposed slavery. Though he lost to James Buchanan, Fremont’s campaign revealed a crucial insight: a candidate could potentially win the presidency by carrying only Northern states. This realization would prove prophetic four years later when Lincoln achieved precisely what Fremont had narrowly missed.

The Missouri Crisis: Fremont’s Emancipation Order Challenges Lincoln

The collision between Lincoln and Fremont erupted in August 1861, when the explorer-turned-general confronted the chaos of Missouri—a state that epitomized the Civil War’s fratricidal nature. Unlike the clear battle lines drawn elsewhere, Missouri descended into what can only be described as anarchic violence, with neighbors killing neighbors and lawlessness reigning supreme. Fremont, commanding the Department of the West from his St. Louis headquarters, faced an impossible situation: how to maintain order in a pro-Union but slave-owning state while fighting Confederate sympathizers and irregular forces.

Fremont’s solution was characteristically bold and utterly unauthorized. On August 30, 1861, he declared martial law across Missouri and, more explosively, issued an emancipation order freeing all slaves within the state. He consulted no one—not Lincoln, not Missouri’s pro-Union governor Hamilton Gamble, not even his wife Jesse, despite discussing virtually everything with her. The proclamation emerged from Fremont’s conviction that slavery formed the backbone of Confederate resistance and that striking at this institution represented military necessity rather than political ideology.

The response was immediate and polarizing. Abolitionists hailed Fremont as a hero, seeing him as the military embodiment of their cause. Democrats and conservative Republicans recoiled, while Lincoln found himself caught between competing pressures. The president’s closest advisors, particularly those with Kentucky connections, warned that Fremont’s action would drive that crucial border state into Confederate arms. Lincoln, famously quipping that he hoped to have God on his side but must have Kentucky, ordered Fremont to modify his proclamation. When Fremont refused, Lincoln rescinded the emancipation order entirely—though not before Fremont had secretly arranged for additional copies to be printed and distributed throughout the state.

The Contrast Between Fremont and Lincoln’s Approach to Emancipation

The Missouri crisis illuminated fundamental differences between these two men that extended far beyond their disagreement over timing and tactics regarding emancipation. Bicknell’s analysis reveals Fremont as possessing what one contemporary observer called “all the attributes of genius except ability.” Charismatic, intelligent, and fearlessly risk-taking, Fremont excelled in situations requiring individual initiative and personal courage. His greatest triumphs occurred when he operated independently, beyond the reach of conventional authority, whether crossing the Sierra Nevada in winter or exploring uncharted territories.

Yet these very qualities that made him exceptional as an explorer rendered him problematic as a military commander within a hierarchical structure. Fremont struggled with taking orders, collaborating effectively, or thinking through the broader implications of his actions. His approach to problem-solving was intuitive and immediate rather than deliberative and systematic. Lincoln, by contrast, embodied the lawyer’s mentality—methodical, constitutionally grounded, and deeply conscious of precedent and consequence. Where Fremont’s principles seemed to serve his immediate purposes, Lincoln’s principles served larger constitutional ideals around slavery and emancipation.

This difference manifested repeatedly throughout their relationship. Even after Lincoln relieved Fremont from his Missouri command in late 1861, the president gave him another chance in Western Virginia’s Mountain Department. Again, Fremont failed to deliver results, hampered by both his own limitations and War Department micromanagement from Washington. When Lincoln consolidated command under General John Pope—a man junior to Fremont who had previously served under him in Missouri—Fremont’s wounded pride led him to request relief, effectively ending his military career.

From Fremont’s Failed Order to Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation

Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of the Fremont-Lincoln relationship lies in its ultimate irony. Though Lincoln overruled Fremont’s emancipation order in 1861, he adopted virtually identical reasoning when crafting the Emancipation Proclamation sixteen months later. Military necessity—Fremont’s original justification—became Lincoln’s constitutional foundation for freeing slaves in rebellious territories. The very argument Lincoln had rejected as premature in Missouri became his pathway to ending slavery across the Confederacy.

Fremont’s subsequent career reads like a study in diminishing returns. After briefly emerging as a third-party presidential candidate in 1864, challenging Lincoln on reconstruction policy rather than abolition, he faded from public prominence. The fortune that had come so easily disappeared just as quickly, lost in the financial panic of 1873. By the time of his death, the man who had once been among America’s most famous figures lived in relative obscurity, sustained by his wife’s writing and a brief, unremarkable stint as territorial governor of Arizona.

How Fremont and Lincoln Together Shaped America’s Path to Emancipation

The story of Fremont and Lincoln ultimately reveals how history’s currents carry different men toward different destinies. Fremont’s bold gambit in Missouri, though politically disastrous for him personally, helped establish emancipation as a legitimate military strategy. His willingness to act precipitously, while problematic in execution, forced crucial conversations about slavery’s role in the war effort. Lincoln’s more cautious approach to emancipation, grounded in constitutional principle and political reality, ultimately achieved what Fremont’s impulsiveness could not: the systematic destruction of slavery through legal and military means. In their conflict, we glimpse the complex interplay between moral urgency and political pragmatism that shaped America’s path toward freedom.In the annals of American history, certain figures blaze across the national consciousness like meteors—brilliant, spectacular, and ultimately brief. John C. Fremont was such a figure, a man whose fame in the 1850s rivaled that of any celebrity today, yet whose legacy has dimmed to little more than footnotes in Civil War histories. Today’s episode features historian and journalist John Bicknell, and illuminates the fascinating and fraught relationship between this forgotten titan and Abraham Lincoln—a relationship that would ultimately shape the very foundation of emancipation during America’s bloodiest conflict.

The Making of a National Icon

Fremont’s rise to prominence reads like an adventure novel penned by destiny itself. As a member of the Army Corps of Topographical Engineers, he led expeditions into the American West that transformed the national imagination. His meticulously detailed reports, crafted with the literary assistance of his brilliant wife Jesse Benton Fremont, became bestsellers that guided thousands of pioneers toward Oregon and California. More importantly, these accounts fundamentally altered how Americans conceived of their continental inheritance, replacing the notion of a “great American desert” with visions of boundless opportunity and natural splendor.

Fortune smiled upon Fremont in ways that seemed almost providential. Gold discovered on land he had purchased near what would become Yosemite National Park made him extraordinarily wealthy without any particular effort on his part. This stroke of luck, combined with his fame as an explorer, propelled him into politics as one of California’s first senators. Yet Fremont’s political evolution proved as dramatic as his geographical discoveries. Though born in Georgia and raised in South Carolina, he gradually moved away from his Southern roots, influenced partly by his father-in-law, Senator Thomas Hart Benton of Missouri, who opposed slavery’s expansion despite being a slaveholder himself.

When the nascent Republican Party, founded on the principle of preventing slavery’s westward expansion, sought a presidential nominee in 1856, Fremont represented an ideal choice. His nomination marked a watershed moment—the first time a major political party had seriously opposed slavery. Though he lost to James Buchanan, Fremont’s campaign revealed a crucial insight: a candidate could potentially win the presidency by carrying only Northern states. This realization would prove prophetic four years later when Lincoln achieved precisely what Fremont had narrowly missed.

The Missouri Powder Keg

The collision between Lincoln and Fremont erupted in August 1861, when the explorer-turned-general confronted the chaos of Missouri—a state that epitomized the Civil War’s fratricidal nature. Unlike the clear battle lines drawn elsewhere, Missouri descended into what can only be described as anarchic violence, with neighbors killing neighbors and lawlessness reigning supreme. Fremont, commanding the Department of the West from his St. Louis headquarters, faced an impossible situation: how to maintain order in a pro-Union but slave-owning state while fighting Confederate sympathizers and irregular forces.

Fremont’s solution was characteristically bold and utterly unauthorized. On August 30, 1861, he declared martial law across Missouri and, more explosively, issued an order freeing all slaves within the state. He consulted no one—not Lincoln, not Missouri’s pro-Union governor Hamilton Gamble, not even his wife Jesse, despite discussing virtually everything with her. The proclamation emerged from Fremont’s conviction that slavery formed the backbone of Confederate resistance and that striking at this institution represented military necessity rather than political ideology.

The response was immediate and polarizing. Abolitionists hailed Fremont as a hero, seeing him as the military embodiment of their cause. Democrats and conservative Republicans recoiled, while Lincoln found himself caught between competing pressures. The president’s closest advisors, particularly those with Kentucky connections, warned that Fremont’s action would drive that crucial border state into Confederate arms. Lincoln, famously quipping that he hoped to have God on his side but must have Kentucky, ordered Fremont to modify his proclamation. When Fremont refused, Lincoln rescinded the order entirely—though not before Fremont had secretly arranged for additional copies to be printed and distributed throughout the state.

The Contrast in Leadership

The Missouri crisis illuminated fundamental differences between these two men that extended far beyond their disagreement over timing and tactics. Bicknell’s analysis reveals Fremont as possessing what one contemporary observer called “all the attributes of genius except ability.” Charismatic, intelligent, and fearlessly risk-taking, Fremont excelled in situations requiring individual initiative and personal courage. His greatest triumphs occurred when he operated independently, beyond the reach of conventional authority, whether crossing the Sierra Nevada in winter or exploring uncharted territories.

Yet these very qualities that made him exceptional as an explorer rendered him problematic as a military commander within a hierarchical structure. Fremont struggled with taking orders, collaborating effectively, or thinking through the broader implications of his actions. His approach to problem-solving was intuitive and immediate rather than deliberative and systematic. Lincoln, by contrast, embodied the lawyer’s mentality—methodical, constitutionally grounded, and deeply conscious of precedent and consequence. Where Fremont’s principles seemed to serve his immediate purposes, Lincoln’s principles served larger constitutional ideals.

This difference manifested repeatedly throughout their relationship. Even after Lincoln relieved Fremont from his Missouri command in late 1861, the president gave him another chance in Western Virginia’s Mountain Department. Again, Fremont failed to deliver results, hampered by both his own limitations and War Department micromanagement from Washington. When Lincoln consolidated command under General John Pope—a man junior to Fremont who had previously served under him in Missouri—Fremont’s wounded pride led him to request relief, effectively ending his military career.

The Ironic Legacy

Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of the Fremont-Lincoln relationship lies in its ultimate irony. Though Lincoln overruled Fremont’s emancipation order in 1861, he adopted virtually identical reasoning when crafting the Emancipation Proclamation sixteen months later. Military necessity—Fremont’s original justification—became Lincoln’s constitutional foundation for freeing slaves in rebellious territories. The very argument Lincoln had rejected as premature in Missouri became his pathway to ending slavery across the Confederacy.

Fremont’s subsequent career reads like a study in diminishing returns. After briefly emerging as a third-party presidential candidate in 1864, challenging Lincoln on reconstruction policy rather than abolition, he faded from public prominence. The fortune that had come so easily disappeared just as quickly, lost in the financial panic of 1873. By the time of his death, the man who had once been among America’s most famous figures lived in relative obscurity, sustained by his wife’s writing and a brief, unremarkable stint as territorial governor of Arizona.

The story of Fremont and Lincoln ultimately reveals how history’s currents carry different men toward different destinies. Fremont’s bold gambit in Missouri, though politically disastrous for him personally, helped establish emancipation as a legitimate military strategy. His willingness to act precipitously, while problematic in execution, forced crucial conversations about slavery’s role in the war effort. Lincoln’s more cautious approach, grounded in constitutional principle and political reality, ultimately achieved what Fremont’s impulsiveness could not: the systematic destruction of slavery through legal and military means. In their conflict, we glimpse the complex interplay between moral urgency and political pragmatism that shaped America’s path toward freedom.