The Backwoods Boy

Of a different character, but equally characteristic of Mr. Lincoln, is a story told by General Charles G. Dahlgren, brother of Admiral Dahlgren:

“As Mr. Lincoln and my brother were about to go to dinner, and while the President was washing his hands, Secretary Stanton entered excitedly with a telegram in his hand and said, ‘Mr. President, I have just received a dispatch from Portland that Jake Thompson is there waiting to take the steamer to England and I want to arrest him.’ Mr. Lincoln began to wipe his hands on a towel, and said, in a long, drawling voice, ‘Better let him slide.’

“ ‘But, Mr. President,’ said Secretary Stanton, ‘this man is one of the chief traitors – was one of Buchanan’s Cabinet, betrayed the country then, and has fought against us ever since. He should be punished.’

“ ‘W-e-l-l,’ said the President, ‘if Jake Thompson is satisfied with the issue of the war, I am. B-e-t-t-e-r let him slide.’

“ ‘Such men should be punished to the full extent of the law,’ said Mr. Stanton. ‘Why, if we don’t punish the leaders of the rebellion, what shall we say to their followers?’

“B-e-t-t-e-r let them slide, Stanton,” said the President, laying aside his towel.

“Mr. Stanton went out, evidently annoyed, and Mr. Lincoln, turning to my brother, said: ‘Dahl, that is one of the things I don’t intend to allow. When the war is over, I want it to stop, and let both sides go to work and heal the wounds, which, Heaven knows, are bad enough; but jogging and pulling them is not the best way to heal a sore.’

“And the old General, turning to his work, said, with a sigh, ‘If that policy had been carried out, the wounds would have healed long ago.’ ”

The following story, told by M. J. Ramsdell, shows that Mr. Lincoln judged men sometimes by their spirit rather than their military qualifications:

“A sergeant of infantry, whom I shall call Dick Gower, commanded his company in a great many battles in the West in the early days of the war. His company officers had all been killed, but right royally did Dick handle his men. At the first lull in the campaign, the officers of his regiment, of his brigade, and of his division, united in recommending him for a lieutenancy in the regular army. The commanding officer joined in the recommendation. Mr. Lincoln ordered the appointment. Forthwith, Sergeant Dick was ordered before an examining board here in Washington, for the regular army officers were tenacious of what they thought their superiority. Dick presented himself in a soiled and faded sergeant’s uniform, his face and hands bronzed and cracked by the winds and suns of a hot campaign.

“The curled darling of Washington society, the perfumed graduates of West Point, who had never seen a squadron set in the field, conducted the examination to ascertain if Dick was fit to be an officer in the regular army. They asked him questions as to engineering, mathematics, philosophy, and ordnance, of harbor warfare, of field campaigns, and all such stuff. Not a single question could Dick answer. ‘What is an echelon?’ was asked. ‘I don’t know,’ answered Dick; ‘I never saw one.’ ‘What is an abbattis?’ was the next question? Dick answered: ‘You’ve got me again. We haven’t got ’em in the West.’ ‘Well, what is a hollow square?’ continued his tormentors. ‘Don’t know,’ said Dick sorrowfully; ‘I never heard of one.’ ‘Well,’ finally said a young snip in eye-glasses, ‘what would you do in command of a company if the cavalry should charge on you?’ They had at last got down to Dick’s comprehension, and he answered with a resolute face and a flashing eye, ‘I’d give them Jesse, that’s what I’d do, and I’d make a hollow square in every mother’s son of them.’ A few more technical questions were asked, but poor Dick was not able to answer them, and the examination closed.

“The report was duly sent to the Secretary of War, who submitted it to Mr. Lincoln, saying that evidently Dick would not do for an officer. Mr. Lincoln, when through with the report, and found that Dick had not answered a single question, but he came to where Dick said what he would do if attacked by cavalry, and then he did what sensible Abe Lincoln did in all such matters, he threw the report on his table and made a little memorandum in pencil ordering the Secretary of War to appoint Dick Gower a lieutenant in the regular army. Dick achieved distinction afterward, and was everywhere known in the army as a man without fear, who never made a mistake.”

A correspondent of the Boston Traveller furnishes a humorous story told by President Lincoln, to show the embarrassment which he felt as to the disposal of Jefferson Davis:

“A gentleman told me a story recently which well illustrates Lincoln’s immense fund of anecdotes. Said he: ‘Just after Jeff Davis had been captured I called over at the White House to see President Lincoln. I was ushered in, and asked him: “Well, Mr. President, what are you going to do with Jeff Davis?” Lincoln looked at me for a moment, and then said, in his peculiar, humorous way: “That reminds me of a story. A boy ’way out West caught a coon and tamed it to a considerable extent, but the animal created such mischief about the house that his mother ordered him to take it away and not to come home until he could return without his pet. The boy went down-town with the coon, secured with a strong piece of twine, and in about an hour he was found sitting on the edge of the curbstone, holding the coon with one hand and crying as though his heart would break. A big-hearted gentleman, who was passing, stopped and kindly inquired: ‘Say, little boy, what is the matter?’ The boy wiped a tear from his eye with his sleeve, and in an injured tone, howled: ‘Matter! Ask me what’s the matter! You see that coon there? Well, I don’t know what to do with the darn thing. I can’t sell it, I can’t kill it, and ma won’t let me take it home.’ That,” continued Lincoln, “is precisely my case. I am like the boy with the coon. I can’t sell him, I can’t kill him, and I can’t take him home!” ’ ”

I have already remarked that Mr. Lincoln was superstitious. He seemed to be deeply impressed by dreams, and claimed to be notified in this way of the approach of important events.

“On the Friday of his death he called his Cabinet together at noon, and he seemed dispirited. He said: ‘I wish I could hear from Sherman.’ General Grant, who was present, said: ‘You will hear well from Sherman.’ He said: ‘I don’t know. I have had a dream, the same that I had before the battles of Bull Run, of Chancellorsville, and of Swan River. It has,’ he said, ‘always boded disaster.’ It made a great impression on all of the Cabinet and on General Grant. Mr. Lincoln had been remonstrated with for going about unattended, but he said: ‘What is the use of precautions? If they want to kill me they will kill me.’ He was killed, but history will place him next to Washington in the list of beloved Presidents. The skill displayed by him in managing Chase, Stanton, Sumner, Fessenden, Wade, Seward, and other candidates for the Presidency, was wonderful, and when there was any hitch he was reminded of a story, illustrating the situation. His stories were, in short, ‘parables.’ ” —Boston Budget.

Even in the hour of victory he was thoughtful, not jubilant.

“When General Weitzel escorted President Lincoln and his companions through the Capitol at Richmond the day after the occupation, in April, 1865, they reached what the rebels called the Cabinet room of the great President of the Southern Confederacy. General Weitzel said: ‘This, Mr. President, is the chair which has been so long occupied by President Davis.’ He pulled it from the table and motioned the President to sit down. Mr. Lincoln’s face took an extra look of care and melancholy. The narrator says ‘he looked at it a moment and slowly approached and wearily sat down. It was an hour of exultation with the soldiers; we felt that the war was ended, and we knew that all over the North bells were pealing, cannon booming, and the people were delirious with joy over the prospect of peace. I expected to see the President manifest some spirit of triumph as he sat in the seat so long occupied by the rebel Government; but his great head fell into his broad hand and a sigh that seemed to come from the soul of a nation, escaped his lips and saddened every man present. His mind seemed to be travelling back through the dark years of the war, and he was counting the cost in treasure, life, and blood that made it possible for him to sit there. As he rose without a word and left the room slowly and sadly, tears involuntarily came to the eyes of every man present, and we soldiers realized that we had not done all the suffering nor made all the sacrifices.’ ”

Where Abraham Lincoln obtained some of his anti-slavery ideas may be learned from a recent article in the Century, by Leonard W. Bacon, who describes the effects of his father’s writings upon this subject on the mind of the future President:

“ ‘These essays’ – from the preface to which I have just quoted – had been written at divers times from 1833 onward, and were collected, in 1846, into a volume which has had a history. It is a book of exact definitions, just discriminations, lucid and tenacious arguments; and it deals with certain obstinate and elusive sophistries in an effective way. It is not to be wondered at that when it fell into the hands of a young Western lawyer, Abraham Lincoln, – whose characteristic was ‘not to be content with an idea until he could bound it north, east, south, and west,’ – it should prove to be a book exactly after his mind. It was to him not only a study on slavery, but a model in the rhetoric of debate. It is not difficult to trace the influence of it in that great stump-debate with Douglas, in which Lincoln’s main strength lay in his cautious wisdom in declining to take the extreme positions into which his wily antagonist tried to provoke or entice him. When, many years after the little book had been forgotten by the public, and after slavery had fallen before the President’s proclamation, it appeared from Lincoln’s own declaration to Dr. Joseph P. Thompson that he owed to that book his definite, reasonable, and irrefragable views on the slavery question, my father felt to sing the Nunc dimittis.”

CHAPTER XXVI

MR. LINCOLN’S HUMANITY

Martial law is severe, and, doubtless, not without reason. Desertion in time of war is a capital offence, and many a poor fellow suffered the penalty during the terrible four years of the civil war. Many more would have suffered but for the humane interposition of the President, who was glad to find the slightest excuse for saving the life of the unfortunate offender. As Dr. Holland observes, he had the deepest sympathy for the soldiers who were fighting the battles of their country. He knew something of their trials and privations, their longing for home, and the strength of the temptation which sometimes led them to lapse from duty. There was infinite tenderness in the heart of this man which made him hard to consent to extreme punishment.

I propose to cull from different sources illustrations of Mr. Lincoln’s humanity. The first I find in a letter written to Dr. Holland by a personal friend of the President:

“I called on him one day in the early part of the war. He had just written a pardon for a young man who had been sentenced to be shot, for sleeping at his post as a sentinel. He remarked as he read it to me, ‘I could not think of going into eternity with the blood of the poor young man on my skirts.’ Then he added, ‘It is not to be wondered at that a boy, raised on a farm, probably in the habit of going to bed at dark, should, when required to watch, fall asleep, and I can not consent to shoot him for such an act.’ ”

Dr. Holland adds that Rev. Newman Hall, of London, in a sermon preached upon and after Mr. Lincoln’s death, says that the dead body of this youth was found among the slain on the field of Fredericksburg, wearing next his heart the photograph of his preserver, beneath which he had written, “God bless President Lincoln.” On another occasion, when Mr. Lincoln was asked to assent to the capital punishment of twenty-four deserters, sentenced to be shot for desertion, he said to the General who pleaded the necessity of enforcing discipline, “No, General, there are already too many weeping widows in the United States. For God’s sake, don’t ask me to add to the number, for I won’t do it.”

From Mr. Carpenter’s “Six Months at the White House,” I make the following extract:

“The Secretary of War and Generals in command were frequently much annoyed at being overruled, – the discipline and efficiency of the service being thereby, as they considered, greatly endangered. But there was no going back of the simple signature, ‘A. Lincoln,’ attached to proclamation or reprieve.

“My friend Kellogg, Representative from Essex County, New York, received a dispatch one evening from the army, to the effect that a young townsman who had been induced to enlist through his instrumentality, had, for a serious misdemeanor, been convicted by a court-martial, and was to be shot the next day. Greatly agitated, Mr. Kellogg went to the Secretary of War, and urged in the strongest manner, a reprieve.

“Stanton was inexorable.

“ ‘Too many cases of the kind had been let off,’ he said; ‘and it was time an example was made.’

“Exhausting his eloquence in vain, Mr. Kellogg said: ‘Well, Mr. Secretary, the boy is not going to be shot– of that I give you fair warning!’

“Leaving the War Department, he went directly to the White House, although the hour was late. The sentinel on duty told him that special orders had been issued to admit no one that night. After a long parley, by pledging himself to assume the responsibility of the act, the Congressman passed in. The President had retired; but, indifferent to etiquette or ceremony, Judge Kellogg pressed his way through all obstacles to his sleeping apartment. In an excited manner he stated that the dispatch announcing the hour of execution had but just reached him.

“ ‘This man must not be shot, Mr. President,’ said he. ‘I can’t help what he may have done. Why, he is an old neighbor of mine; I can’t allow him to be shot!’

“Mr. Lincoln had remained in bed, quietly listening to the vehement protestations of his old friend (they were in Congress together). He at length said, ‘Well, I don’t believe shooting him will do him any good. Give me that pen. And, so saying, ‘red tape’ was unceremoniously cut, and another poor fellow’s lease of life was indefinitely extended.”

I continue to quote from Mr. Carpenter:

“One night Speaker Colfax left all other business to ask the President to respite the son of a constituent who was sentenced to be shot at Davenport for desertion. He heard the story with his usual patience, though he was wearied out with incessant calls and anxious for rest, and then replied, ‘Some of our generals complain that I impair discipline and subordination in the army by my pardons and respites, but it makes me rested after a hard day’s work if I can find some good excuse for saving a man’s life, and I go to bed happy, as I think how joyous the signing of my name will make him and his family and his friends.’

“The Hon. Thaddeus Stevens told me that on one occasion he called at the White House with an elderly lady in great trouble, whose son had been in the army, but for some offence had been court-martialed, and sentenced either to death or imprisonment at hard labor for a long term. There were some extenuating circumstances; and, after a full hearing, the President turned to the Representative, and said:

“ ‘Mr. Stevens, do you think this is a case which will warrant my interference?’

“ ‘With my knowledge of the facts and the parties,’ was the reply, ‘I should have no hesitation in granting a pardon.’

“ ‘Then,’ returned Mr. Lincoln, ‘I will pardon him,’ and he proceeded forthwith to execute the paper.

“The gratitude of the mother was too deep for expression, and not a word was said between her and Mr. Stevens until they were half-way down-stairs on their passage out, when she suddenly broke forth in an excited manner with the words, ‘I knew it was a copperhead lie!’

“ ‘What do you refer to, madam?’ asked Mr. Stevens.

“ ‘Why, they told me he was an ugly-looking man!’ she replied with vehemence. ‘He is the handsomest man I ever saw in my life!’

“Doubtless the grateful mother voiced the feeling of many another, who, in the rugged and care-worn face had read the sympathy and goodness of the inner nature.”

Another Case

“A young man connected with a New York regiment had become to all appearances a hardened criminal. He had deserted two or three times, and, when at last detected and imprisoned, had attempted to poison his guards, one of whom subsequently died from the effects of the poison unconsciously taken. Of course, there seemed no defence possible in such a case. But the fact came out that the boy had been of unsound mind.

“Some friends of his mother took up the matter, and an appeal was made to the Secretary of War. He declined positively to listen to it, – the case was too aggravating. The prisoner (scarcely more than a boy) was confined at Elmira, N.Y. The day for the execution of his sentence had nearly arrived, when his mother made her way to the President. He listened to her story, examined the record, and said that his opinion accorded with that of the Secretary of War; he could do nothing for her.

“Heart-broken, she was compelled to relinquish her last hope. One of the friends who had become interested, upon learning the result of the application, waited upon Senator Harris. That gentleman said that his engagements utterly precluded his going to see the President upon the subject, until twelve o’clock of the second night following. This brought the time to Wednesday night, and the sentence was to be executed on Thursday. Judge Harris, true to his word, called at the White House at twelve o’clock on Wednesday night. The President had retired, but the interview was granted. The point made was that the boy was insane, – thus irresponsible, and his execution would be murder. Pardon was not asked, but a reprieve, until a proper medical examination could be made.

“This was so reasonable that Mr. Lincoln acquiesced in its justice. He immediately ordered a telegram sent to Elmira, delaying the execution of the sentence. Early the next morning he sent another by a different line, and, before the hour of execution had arrived, he had sent no less than four different reprieves by different lines to different individuals in Elmira, so fearful was he that the message would fail or be too late.”

These are but a few of the stories that have been told in illustration of President Lincoln’s humanity. Whatever may have been the opinion of the generals in command, as to the expediency of his numerous pardons, they throw a beautiful light upon his character, and will endear his memory to all who can appreciate his tender sympathy for all, and his genuine and unaffected goodness.

CHAPTER XXVII

ANECDOTES OF MR. LINCOLN

A man’s character often is best disclosed by trifling incidents, and it is for this reason, perhaps, that the public is eager to read anecdotes of its illustrious men. I shall devote the present chapter to anecdotes of President Lincoln, gathered from various quarters. I shall not use quotation-marks, but content myself with saying at the outset that they are all borrowed.

At the reception at the President’s house one afternoon, many persons present noticed three little girls poorly dressed, the children of some mechanic or laboring man, who had followed the visitors fully into the house to gratify their curiosity. They passed round from room to room, and were hastening through the reception-room with some trepidation when the President called to them, “Little girls, are you going to pass me without shaking hands?”

Then he bent his tall, awkward form down, and shook each little girl warmly by the hand. Everybody in the apartment was spell-bound by the incident – so simple in itself, yet revealing so much of Mr. Lincoln’s character.

The President and the Paymaster

One of the numerous paymasters at Washington sought an introduction to Mr. Lincoln. He arrived at the White House quite opportunely, and was introduced to the President by the United States Marshal, with his blandest smile. While shaking hands with the President the paymaster remarked:

“I have no official business with you, Mr. President; I only called to pay my compliments.”

“I understand,” was the reply, “and, from the complaints of the soldiers, I think that is all you do pay.”

The Interviewer

An interviewer, with the best intentions in the world, once went to Mr. Lincoln’s room in the White House while he was President, and inquired:

“Mr. President, what do you think of the war and its end?”

To which Mr. Lincoln politely and laughingly replied:

“That question of yours puts me in mind of a story about something which happened down in Egypt, in the southern part of Illinois.”

The point of it was that a man burned his fingers by being in too much haste. Mr. Lincoln told the story admirably well, walking up and down the room, and heartily laughing all the while. The interviewer was quick to see the point. As a matter of course he was cut to the quick, and quickly down-stairs he rushed, saying to himself:

“I’ll never interview that man again.”

How Mr. Lincoln secured a Ride

When Abraham Lincoln was a poor lawyer, he found himself one cold day at a village some distance from Springfield, and with no means of conveyance.

Seeing a gentleman driving along the Springfield road in a carriage, he ran up to him and politely said:

“Sir, will you have the goodness to take my overcoat to town for me?”

“With pleasure,” answered the gentleman. “But how will you get it again?”

“Oh, very easily,” said Mr. Lincoln, “as I intend to remain in it.”

“Jump in,” said the gentleman laughing. And the future President had a pleasant ride.

The President’s Influence

Judge Baldwin, of California, an old and highly respectable and sedate gentleman, called on General Halleck, and, presuming on a familiar acquaintance in California a few years since, solicited a pass outside of the lines to see a brother in Virginia, not thinking he would meet with a refusal, as both his brother and himself were good Union men.

“We have been deceived too often,” said General Halleck, “and I regret I can’t grant it.”

Judge B. then went to Stanton, and was very briefly disposed of with the same result.

Finally he obtained an interview with Mr. Lincoln and stated his case.

“Have you applied to General Halleck?” said the President.

“And met with a flat refusal,” said Judge B.

“Then you must see Stanton,” continued the President.

“I have, and with the same result,” was the reply.

“Well, then,” said the President, with a smile of good humor, “I can do nothing, for you must know that I have very little influence with this administration.”

The German Lieutenant

A lieutenant, whom debts compelled to leave his father-land, succeeded in being admitted to President Lincoln, and, by reason of his commendable and winning deportment and intelligent appearance, was promised a lieutenant’s commission in a cavalry regiment.

He was so enraptured with his success, that he deemed it a duty to inform the President that he belonged to one of the oldest noble houses in Germany.

“Oh, never mind that,” said Mr. Lincoln, with a twinkle of the eye; “you will not find that to be any obstacle to your advancement.”

A Pass for Richmond

A gentleman called on the President, and solicited a pass for Richmond.

“Well,” said Mr. Lincoln, “I would be very happy to oblige you if my passes were respected; but the fact is, sir, I have, within the last two years, given passes to two hundred and fifty thousand men to go to Richmond, and not one has got there yet.”

Mr. Lincoln and the Preacher

An officer under the Government called at the Executive Mansion, accompanied by a clerical friend.

“Mr. President,” said he, “allow me to present to you my friend, the Rev. Mr. F., of – . Mr. F. has expressed a desire to see you, and have some conversation with you, and I am happy to be the means of introducing him.”

The President shook hands with Mr. F., desired him to be seated, and took a seat himself. Then – his countenance having assumed an expression of patient waiting – he said: “I am now ready to hear what you have to say.”