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“Saying a Friendly Word to Each Wounded Man”
The inspection we made of the hospitals, on the afternoon of April 8th, was to show us war scenes under a different aspect, and Mr. Lincoln in a light altogether new. In the most salubrious portion of the vast plains where the encampments were located a large area had been reserved for ambulances. These were organized according to a plan as simple as it was logical. Each army corps had its separate ambulance space. This consisted of a large rectangle of ground divided by open corridors placed at equal distances from one another. Between these corridors stood a row of tents or of frame huts, each of which was capable of containing about twenty wounded. One side of these corridors was given up to officers, the other to privates. At the centre of each rectangle of ground was located a pharmacy, a kitchen, and that which Americans consider as always essential – a post-office. Those who have visited one of these tents or of these frame huts have seen them all. A Bible and newspapers were to be found on nearly every bed. The Christian Commission had distributed in each tent Bible verses printed in large type, and these had been hung on the walls.
Our visit began with the hospitals of the Fifth Corps. Mr. Lincoln went from one bed to another, saying a friendly word to each wounded man, or at least giving him a handshake. It was principally the Fifth Corps’s mounted infantry which had been in battle under Sheridan during the preceding days ; it had fought incessantly from Petersburg to Burkesville, over a distance of more than a hundred miles, and the enemy’s fire had made cruel havoc in its ranks. The greater number of wounds were located in the abdominal regions, and were therefore of a serious character, and caused much suffering.
During these moments, when physical torture makes one nearly lose all self-control, the American displays a sort of stoicism which has nothing of affectation. A control, nearly absolute, over himself is the distinctive trait of his nature ; it manifests itself in all phases of his life – in the depth of the wilderness, as well as upon the field of battle. His life is an incessant struggle, and when he falls in that struggle in which his life is at stake, he will suffer without complaining, for by complaining he would deem that he is lowering himself. Strange men they are, whom many approach and cannot understand, but who explain to him who does understand them the true greatness of their land.
Following Mr. Lincoln in this long review of the wounded, we reached a bed on which lay a dying man ; he was a captain, aged twenty-four years, who had been noticed for his bravery. Two of his friends were near him ; one held his hand, while the other read a passage from the Bible in a low voice. Mr. Lincoln walked over to him and took hold of his other hand, which rested on the bed. We formed a circle around him, and every one of us remained silent. Presently the dying man half-opened his eyes ; a faint smile passed over his lips. It was then that his pulse ceased beating.
Our visit to the ambulances lasted over five hours. We inspected, with Mr. Lincoln, that of each corps. As we were visiting the wounded of the Ninth Corps, passing before the kitchen, one of the surgeons who accompanied us invited me to enter. In the midst of five or six servants stood a woman whose dress barely distinguished her from them, and who seemed to share the same labor they performed. On seeing her the surgeon went to her, spoke with marks of profound respect, and presented me. Soon after she left us a moment to give an order ; then the officer said to me : “ Miss G belongs to one of the wealthiest families of Massachusetts ; when the war broke out, she gave up all comforts of life in order to devote herself to the following of those regiments which New England sent over to join the army. Since then she has lived with us, and her occupation has been to tend the wounded.”
Just then Miss G came back, and when I expressed to her the particular admiration which that sort of heroism awakened in me, “There is nothing peculiar in that,” she answered. “You are not aware then, that nearly all our regiments are accompanied by women who share camp life in order to minister to the suffering soldiers. You would have found them in the Tennessee campaign, at the siege of Vicksburg, and as far as the Bed River, just as you see me at the Potomac encampments.” Before me was standing one of the most perfect types of New England womanhood. It was my first acquaintance with these women, whom I have often since had occasion to study ; women in whom it may be said that the Puritan flame lighted some two hundred and fifty years ago still continues burning ; who, in the performance of deeds most heroic, remain stiff and proud ; who sustain themselves by efforts of stoical fortitude, and not by the more tender feelings of charity ; who accomplish by a yearning of the mind what women of other countries would accomplish by a yearning of the heart ; who aspire to command admiration, rather than to awaken gratitude ; women, in short, whom the wounded must thank, but whom he cannot bless.
Finding Mr. Lincoln near by, I spoke to him of my encounter, and we returned together to the kitchen. Miss G- urged the President to enter into what she was pleased to call her room, and invited us to enter with him. It was a small room adjoining the kitchen, in which was a soldier’s bed, a table which stood on four rustic legs, and several tree-stumps in lieu of chairs.
While the conversation was in progress I noticed a book lying on a small table at the bedside. Finally I deciphered its name. It was a Bible. Its well-worn pages testified that it had been often read. Possibly Miss G sought in it, from preference, those texts where the Almighty is represented as marching along with the chosen people, mingling, so to speak, its cause with His own, and crushing down His enemies by acts of His omnipotence. She had doubtless seen in such descriptions a faithful reproduction of the American people, imagining that same God stretching out His protecting hand over the Federal armies, and, in such a religious view, she had derived a firmer conviction in the holiness of the Northern cause, and in its final triumph. She observed the sort of curiosity which the sight of that book stirred in me, and spoke of it to Mr. Lincoln. “That is not my only book,” she added ; “here is another I found in the pocket of a German soldier who died a few days ago.” We looked at the book. It, too, had been often read. The title was : “How to Make One’s Way in the World.” Strange subject for this poor German to meditate; he who, dreaming of wealth, perhaps of liberty, had come to Virginia to die!
It was in the midst of these scenes, so varied in their character, that Mr. Lincoln revealed himself to me. Amid the many incidents that filled these few days, I was able to study him at leisure ; a study easy enough to make, indeed, for Mr. Lincoln would have scorned that sort of art which consists in showing one’s self to a looker-on in a carefully-prepared light. At this stage of my narrative I wish to explain how I have understood him.
I have seen many attempts at portraits of Mr. Lincoln, many photographs ; neither his portraits nor his photographs have reproduced, or are likely ever to reproduce, the complete expression of his face ; still more will they fail in the reproduction of his mental physiognomy.
He was very tall, but his bearing was almost peculiar ; the habit of always carrying one shoulder higher than the other might at first sight make him seem slightly deformed. He had also a defect common to many Americans – his shoulders were too sloping for his height. But his arms were strong and his complexion sunburned, like that of a man who has spent his youth in the open air, exposed to all inclemencies of the weather and to all hardships of manual labor; his gestures were vigorous and supple, revealing great physical strength and an extraordinary energy for resisting privation and fatigue.
Nothing seemed to lend harmony to the decided lines of his face; yet his wide and high forehead, his gray-brown eyes sunken under thick eyebrows, and as though encircled by deep and dark wrinkles, his nose straight and pronounced, his lips at the same time thick and delicate, together with the furrows that ran across his cheeks and chin, formed an ensemble which, although strange, was certainly powerful. It denoted remarkable intelligence, great strength of penetration, tenacity of will, and elevated instincts.
His early life had left ineffaceable marks upon the former rail-splitter, and the powerful President of the United States made no efforts of bad taste to conceal what he had been under what he had become. That simplicity gave him perfect ease. To be sure, he had not the manners of the world, but he was so perfectly natural that it would have been impossible I shall not say to be surprised at his manners, but to notice them at all.
After a moment’s inspection, Mr. Lincoln left with you a sort of impression of vague and deep sadness. It is not too much to say that it was rare to converse with him a while without feeling something poignant. Every time I have endeavored to describe this impression, words, nay, the very ideas, have failed me. And, strange to say, Mr. Lincoln was quite humorous, although one could always detect a bit of irony in his humor. He would relate anecdotes, seeking always to bring the point out clearly. He willingly laughed either at what was being said to him, or at what he said himself. But all of a sudden he would retire within himself ; then he would close his eyes, and all his features would at once bespeak a kind of sadness as indescribable as it was deep. After a while, as though it were by an effort of his will, he would shake off this mysterious weight under which he seemed bowed ; his generous and open disposition would again reappear. In one evening I happened to count over twenty of these alternations and contrasts. Was this sadness caused by the warnings and threats in the midst of which Mr. Lincoln lived? by those letters which, soon after, were found carefully classified on his table under the general heading of “Assassination Letters?” I am inclined to think not. No one more than he possessed that confident audacity so common among Americans, and which cannot be termed courage, because it is not the result of determination.
Was it owing to the constant anxieties of his first years in office? to the civil war scenes cruelly disturbing the peaceful soul of this descendant of Quakers?
These questions remain unanswered for me, and will probably never be answered at all.
Quoted in Marquis de Chambrun, “Personal Recollections of Mr. Lincoln,” Scribner’s (1893), p. 30
On the Monday before the assassination, when the President was on his return from Richmond, he stopped at City Point. Calling,upon the head surgeon at that place, Mr. Lincoln told him that he wished to visit all the hospitals under his charge, and shake hands with every soldier. The surgeon asked if he knew what he was undertaking, there being five or six thousand soldiers at that place, and it would be quite a tax upon his strength to visit all the wards and shake hands with every soldier. Mr. Lincoln answered with a smile, he’ guessed he was equal to the task; at any rate he would try, and go as far as he could; he should never, probably, see the boys again, and he wanted them to know that he appreciated what they had done for their country.’ 4″ Finding it useless to try to dissuade him, the surgeon began his rounds with the President, who walked from bed to bed, extending his hand to all, saying a few words of sympathy to some, making kind inquiries of others, and welcomed by all with the heartiest cordiality. ” As they passed along, they came to a ward in which lay a Rebel who had been wounded and was a prisoner. As the tall figure of the kindly visitor appeared in sight he was recognized by the Rebel soldier, who, raising himself on his elbow in bed, watched Mr. Lincoln as he approached, and extending his hand exclaimed, while tears ran down his cheeks:’ Mr. Lincoln, I have long wanted to see you, to ask your forgiveness for ever raising my hand against the old flag.’ Mr. Lincoln was moved to tears. He heartily shook the hand of the repentant Rebel, and assured him of his good-will, and with a few words of kind advice passed on. ” After some hours the tour of the various hospitals was made, and Mr. Lincoln returned with the surgeon to his office. They had scarcely entered, however, when a messenger came saying that one ward had been omitted, and’ the boys’ wanted to see the President. The surgeon, who was thoroughly tired, and knew Mr. Lincoln must be, tried to dissuade him from going; but the good man said he must go back; he would not knowingly omit one,’ the boys’ would be so disappointed. So he went with the messenger, accompanied by the surgeon, and shook hands with the gratified soldiers, and then returned again to the office. “The surgeon expressed the fear that the President’s arm would be lamed with so much hand shaking, saying that it certainly must ache. Mr. Lincoln smiled, and saying something about his’strong muscles,’ stepped out at the open door, took up a very large, heavy axe which lay there by a log of wood, and chopped vigorously for a few moments, sending the chips flying in all directions; and then, pausing, he extended his right arm to its full length, holding the axe out horizontally, without its even quivering as he held it. Strong men who looked on – men accustomed to manual labor – could not hold the same axe in that position for a moment, Returning to the office, he took a glass of lemonade, for he would take no stronger beverage; and while he was within, the chips he had chopped were gathered up and safely cared for by a hospital steward, because they were’the chips that Father Abraham chopped.’ In a few hours more the beloved President was at home in Washington; in a few days more he had passed away, and a bereaved nation was in mourning.” LXXI. Mr. Lincoln returned from Richmond with a heart-full purpose to issue immediately a proclamation for a day of National Thanksgiving. “Babylon ” had fallen, and with his own eyes, as from another- Pisgah, he had looked over into the promised land of Peace, – a land which, like his great prototype, his feet were not to tread!
–Six months at the White House with Abraham Lincoln. The story of a picture. Page 288 By F. B. Carpenter.
Such distractions could not forestall the afternoon’s grim task. Lincoln visited injured soldiers at City Point, moving “from one bed to another,” the marquis recalled, “saying a friendly word to each wounded man, or at least giving him a handshake.” At one bed, he held the hand of a twenty-four-year-old captain who had been cited for bravery. “The dying man half-opened his eyes; a faint smile passed over his lips. It was then that his pulse ceased beating.” Lincoln remained among the wounded for five hours and returned to the steamer depleted. “There has been war enough,” he said when the marquis inquired about troubles with France over Mexico, “during my second term there will be no more fighting.”
Years later, Chambrun remained intrigued by Lincoln’s temperament. On first impression, he “left with you with a sort of impression of vague and deep sadness.” Yet he “was quite humorous,” often telling hilarious stories and laughing uproariously. “But all of a sudden he would retire within himself; then he would close his eyes, and all his features would at once bespeak a kind of sadness as indescribable as it was deep. After a while, as though it were by an effort of his will, he would shake off this mysterious weight under which he seemed bowed; his generous and open disposition would again reappear.”
Lincoln’s bodyguard, William Crook, believed he understood something of the shifting moods that mystified the French aristocrat. He had observed that Lincoln seemed to absorb the horrors of the war into himself. In the course of the two-week trip, Crook had witnessed Lincoln’s “agony when the thunder of the cannon told him that men were being cut down like grass.” He had seen the anguish on the president’s face when he came within “sight of the poor, torn bodies of the dead and dying on the field of Petersburg.” He discerned his “painful sympathy with the forlorn rebel prisoners,” and his profound distress at “the revelation of the devastation of a noble people in ruined Richmond.” In each instance, Lincoln had internalized the pain of those around him-the wounded soldiers, the captured prisoners, the defeated Southerners. Little wonder that he was overwhelmed at times by a profound sadness that even his own resilient temperament could not dispel.
visited injured soldiers…“no more fighting”: Chambrun, “Personal Recollections of Mr. Lincoln,” Scribner’s (1893), pp. 30, 33–34. By Doris Kearns Goodwin，“Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln”，Goodwin-717-489-25，Goodwin-717-489-30
“Spoke very Kindly of General Lee and Others”
First Despatch from Secretary Stanton
War Department, Washington, April 15 – 1:30 a.m.
Major General Dix, News York:Last evening at about 9:30 o’clock, at Ford’s Theatre, the President, while sitting in his private box with Mrs. Lincoln, Mrs. Harris and Major Rathbun, was shot by an assassin, who suddenly entered the box and approached behind the President.
The assassin then leaped upon the stage, brandishing a large dagger or knife, and made his escape in the rear of the theatre.The pistol ball entered the back of the President’s head, and penetrated nearly through the head. The wound is mortal.
The President has been insensible ever since it was inflicted, and is now dying.
About the same hour an assassin, whether the same or not, entered Mr. Seward’s apartments, and, under pretense of having a prescription, was shown to the Secretary’s sick chamber. The assassin immediately rushed to the bed and inflicted two or three stabs on the throat and two in the face.
It is hoped the wounds may not be mortal. My apprehension is that they will prove fatal.
The nurse alarmed Mr. Frederick Steward, who was in an adjoining room, and he hastened to the door of his father’s room, when he met the assassin, who inflected upon his one or more dangerous wounds. The recovery of Frederick Seward is doubtful.
It is not probable that the President will live through the night.
General Grant and wife were advertised to be at the theatre this evening, but he started to Burlington at six o’clock this evening.
At a Cabinet meeting, at which General grant was present, the subject of the state of the country and the prospect of a speedy peace were discussed. The President was very cheerful and hopeful and spoke very kindly of General Lee and others of Confederacy, and the establishment of government in Virginia.
All the members of the Cabinet, except Mr. Seward, are nor in attendance upon the President.
I have seen Mr. Seward, but he and Frederick were both unconscious.
Edwin M. Stanton, Secretary of War
Edwin M. Stanton to John A. Dix, April 15, 1865
On the following forenoon, Stanton, in an official letter to the American minister at London, gave a more detailed account of Lincoln’s death. Considering the circumstances under which this communication was composed, it is a masterly effort. 2 2 Ibid., pp. 784-85
(“Why was Lincoln murdered?” https://archive.org/stream/whywaslincolnmur00eise/whywaslincolnmur00eise_djvu.txt)
War Department
Washington City, April 15, 1865 — 11:40 a.m.Hon. Charles Francis Adams,
Minister of the United States to Her Britannic Majesty:
Sir: It has become my distressing duty to announce to you that last night His Excellency Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, was assassinated about the hour of 10:30 o’clock in his private box at Ford’s Theater in this city. The President about 8 o’clock accompanied Mrs. Lincoln to the theater. Another lady and gentleman were with them in the box. About 10:30, during a pause in the performance, the assassin entered the box, the door of which was unguarded, hastily approached the President from behind, and discharged a pistol at his head. The bullet entered the back of his head and penetrated nearly through. The assassin then leaped from the box upon the stage, brandishing a large knife or dagger and exclaiming “Sic semper tyrannis,” and escaped in the rear of the theater. Immediately upon the discharge the President fell to the floor insensible, and continued in that state until 7:20 o’clock this morning, when he breathed his last.
About the same time this murder was being committed at the theater another assassin presented himself at the door of Mr. Seward’s residence, gained admission by pretending he had a prescription from Mr. Seward’s physician, which he was directed to see administered, hurried up to the third-story chamber, where Mr. Seward was lying. He here encountered Mr. Frederick Seward, struck him over the head, inflicting several wounds, and fracturing the skull in two places, inflicting, it is feared, mortal wounds. He then rushed into the room where Mr. Seward was in bed, attended by a young daughter and a male nurse. The male attendant was stabbed through the lungs, and it is believed will die. The assassin then struck Mr. Seward with a knife or dagger twice in the throat and twice in the face, inflicting terrible wounds. By this time Major Seward, the eldest son of the Secretary, and another attendant reached the room, and rushed to the rescue of the Secretary. They were also wounded in the conflict, and the assassin escaped. No artery or important blood vessel was severed by any of the wounds inflicted upon him, but he was for a long time insensible from the loss of blood. Some hopes of his possible recovery are entertained.
Immediately upon the death of the President notice was given to Vice-President Johnson, who happened to be in the city, and upon whom the office of President now devolves. He will take the office and assume the functions of President to-day. The murderer of the President has been discovered, and evidence obtained that these horrible crimes were committed in execution of a conspiracy deliberately planned and set on foot by rebels, under pretense of avenging the South and aiding the rebel cause. It is hoped that the immediate perpetrators will be caught. The feeling occasioned by these atrocious crimes is so great, sudden, and overwhelming that I cannot at present do more than communicate them to you at the earliest moment.
Yesterday the President called a Cabinet meeting,at which General Grant was present. He was more cheerful and happy than I had ever seen, rejoiced at the near prospect of firm and durable peace at home and abroad, manifested in marked degree the kindness and humanity of his disposition, and the tender and forgiving spirit that so eminently distinguished him. Public notice had been given that he and General Grant would be present at the theater, and the opportunity of adding the lieutenant-general to the number of victims to be murdered was no doubt seized for the fitting occasion of executing plans that appear to have been in preparation for some weeks. But General Grant was compelled to be absent, and thus escaped the designs upon him.
It is needless for me to say anything in regard to the influence which this atrocious murder of the President may exercise upon the affairs of this country, but I will only add that horrible as are the atrocities that have been resorted to by the enemies of this country, they are not likely in any degree to impair that public spirit or postpone the complete and final overthrow of the rebellion.
In profound grief for the events which it has become my duty to communicate to you, I have the honor to be, very respectfully, your obedient servant,
Edwin M. Stanton 3 3 Ibid., loc. cit.
Edwin M. Stanton to Charles Francis Adams, April 15, 1865
Letter to James M. Cutts, Jr. (Oct 26, 1863)
To James M. Cutts, Jr. [1]
Executive Mansion,
Capt. James M. Cutts. Washington, Oct 26, 1863.
Although what I am now to say is to be, in form, a reprimand, it is not intended to add a pang to what you have already suffered upon the subject to which it relates. You have too much of life yet before you, and have shown too much of promise as an officer, for your future to be lightly surrendered. You were convicted of two offences. One of them, not of great enormity, and yet greatly to be avoided, I feel sure you are in no danger of repeating. The other you are not so well assured against. The advice of a father to his son “Beware of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, bear it that the opposed may beware of thee,” is good, and yet not the best. Quarrel not at all. No man resolved to make the most of himself, can spare time for personal contention. Still less can he afford to take all the consequences, including the vitiating of his temper, and the loss of self-control. Yield larger things to which you can show no more than equal right; and yield lesser ones, though clearly your own. Better give your path to a dog, than be bitten by him in contesting for the right. Even killing the dog would not cure the bite.
In the mood indicated deal henceforth with your fellow men, and especially with your brother officers; and even the unpleasant events you are passing from will not have been profitless to you.
Annotation
[1] ADf, DLC-RTL. This reprimand may have been delivered to Captain Cutts in a personal interview. Never published by Nicolay and Hay for obvious reasons, a portion was, however, incorporated in their footnote to Lincoln’s letter to William G. Anderson, October 31, 1840, as an unidentified bit of advice “given many years afterward to a young officer condemned to be court-martialed for quarreling” (NH, I, 152).
The court-martial trial on June 30, 1863, of Captain James Madison Cutts, Jr., brother of Stephen A. Douglas’ second wife, on the charge of “conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman,” involved three subordinate specifications: (1) that Cutts had used unbecoming language in addressing Captain Charles G. Hutton, aide-de-camp to General Burnside, when Hutton attempted to take over Cutts’ desk; (2) that Cutts had sent a written communication to Major William Cutting derogatory to the accomplishments of Captain Hutton as an officer; and (3) that the said “James M. Cutts . . . did, on or about the 10th day of April, 1863, while occupying room No. 79, Burnet House, Cincinnati, Ohio, on the afternoon of said day, attempt to look through the key-hole of room No. 80 of said house, occupied by a gentleman and his wife; and did, in the evening of said day, at about half past eleven o’clock, after said lady had retired to her room, and while her husband was in the corridor below, said lady being at the time partly undressed, previous to retiring, take a valise or portmanteau from his room and . . . placing himself thereon, did look through the Venetian blind or transom light in or over the door into said room and at said lady while undressing. . . .” (AGO General Orders No. 330, October 8, 1863). To the first and second specifications Cutts pleaded not guilty; to the third, he acknowledged the facts “with deep regret,” and pleaded guilty. The court found him guilty on all three specifications and sentenced him to be dismissed from the service.
In connection with this episode, John Hay’s Diary on July 18 records Lincoln’s humorous remark that Cutts “should be elevated to the peerage for it with the title of Count Peeper.” Lincoln’s pun and allusion were probably suggested by the name of the Swedish minister, Edward Count Piper.
Tried before the same court-martial, Captain Hutton was found guilty of having sent Captain Cutts a challenge to a duel, but was sentenced merely to a presidential reprimand. Major Cutting was found not guilty of the charge of having carried the challenge from Hutton to Cutts.
Lincoln approved the proceedings in the cases of Cutting and Cutts, but in view of Cutts’ “previous good character . . . and gallant conduct in battle” remitted the sentence after reprimand. (General Orders No. 330). The proceedings in the case of Captain Hutton, Lincoln disapproved, because “The penalty fixed by the 25th Article of War for the offence of which the accused is found guilty, viz., sending a challenge to another officer, is cashiering, and admits of no alternative. . . . The President directs that Captain Hutton be dismissed the service of the United States from the 28th day of September, 1863.” (Ibid.). Hutton was reappointed, however, as of October 30, 1863, and served throughout the war.
–Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln. Volume 6.
“He Really Seemed of Another World”
It was a touching sight — that aged negro kneeling at the feet of the tall, gaunt-looking man who seemed in himself to be bearing all the grief of the nation, and whose sad face seemed to say, “I suffer for you all, but will do all I can to help you.”
Mr. Lincoln looked down on the poor creatures at his feet ; he was much embarrassed at his position. “Don’t kneel to me,” he said. “That is not right. You must kneel to God only, and thank him for the liberty you will hereafter enjoy. I am but God’s humble instrument; but you may rest assured that as long as I live no one shall put a shackle on your limbs, and you shall have all the rights which God has given to every other free citizen of this Republic.”
His face was lit up with a divine look as he uttered these words. Though not a handsome man, and ungainly in his person, yet in his enthusiasm he seemed the personification of manly beauty, and that sad face of his looked down in kindness upon these ignorant blacks with a grace that could not be excelled. He really seemed of another world.
All this scene was of brief duration, but, though a simple and humble affair, it impressed me more than anything of the kind I ever witnessed. What a fine picture that would have made — Mr. Lincoln landing from a ship-of-war’s boat, an aged negro on his knees at his feet, and a dozen more trying to reach him to kiss the hem of his garments! In the foreground should be the shackles he had broken when he issued his proclamation giving liberty to the slave.
Twenty years have passed since that event; it is almost too new in history to make a great impression, but the time will come when it will loom up as one of the greatest of man’s achievements, and the name of Abraham Lincoln — who of his own will struck the shackles from the limbs of four millions of people — will be honored thousands of years from now as man’s name was never honored before.
It was a minute or two before I could get the negroes to rise and leave the President. The scene was so touching I hated to disturb it, yet we could not stay there all day; we had to move on; so I requested the patriarch to withdraw from about the President with his companions and let us pass on.
Quoted in David Dixon Porter, Incidents and Anecdotes of the Civil War, pp. 294-95.
“He Jumped up and Said, With a Boyish Manner”
The next day after our entry into the city, on passing out from Clay Street, from Jefferson Davis’s house, I saw a crowd coming, headed by President Lincoln, who was walking with his usual long, careless stride, and looking about with an interested air and taking in everything. Upon my saluting he said: ‘Is it far to President Davis’s house?’ I accompanied him to the house, which was occupied by General Weitzal as headquarters. The President had arrived about 9 o’clock, at the landing called Rocketts, upon Admiral Porter’s flag-ship, the Malvern, and as soon as the boat was made fast, without ceremony, he walked on shore, and started uptown. As soon as Admiral Porter was informed of it he ordered a guard of marines to follow as escort; but in he walk of about two miles they never saw him, and he was directed by negroes.
At the Davis house, he was shown into the reception-room, with the remark that the housekeeper had said that the room was President Davis’s office. As he seated himself he remarked, ‘This must have been President Davis’s chair,” and, crossing his legs, he looked far off with a serious, dreamy expression. At length he asked me if the housekeeper was in the house. Upon learning that she had left he jumped up and said, with a boyish manner, ‘Come, let’s look at the house!’ We went pretty much over it; I retailed all that the housekeeper had told me, and he seemed interested in everything. As we came down the staircase General Weitzel came, in breathless haste, and at once President Lincoln’s face lost its boyish expression as he realized that duty must be resumed. Soon afterward Judge Campbell, General Anderson (Confederates), and others called and asked for an interview with the President. It was granted, and took place in the parlor with closed doors.
I accompanied President Lincoln and General Weitzel to Libby Prison and Castle Thunder, and heard General Weitzel ask President Lincoln what he (General Weitzel) should do in regard to the conquered people. President Lincoln replied that he did not wish to give any orders on that subject, but, as he expressed it, ‘If I were in your place I’d let ’em up easy, let ’em up easy. “
Quoted in Thomas Thatcher Graves, “The Occupation,” Part II of “The Fall of Richmond,” in Battles and Leaders of the Civil War, Vol. IV, Pt. II, p. 727;
“I Believe the Hand of God Placed him Where he is.”
To J.G. Nicolay
Executive Mansion, Washington,
August 7, 1863.
The draft fell pretty heavily in our end of town. William Johnson (cullud) was taken while polishing the Executive boots and rasping the Imperial Abolition whisker. Henry Stoddard is a conscript bold. You remember that good-natured shiny-faced darkey who used to be my special favorite a year ago at Willard’s. He is gone, en haut de la spout. And the gorgeous headwaiter, G. Washington. A clerk in the War Department named Ramsey committed suicide on hearing he was drafted. Our friend Henry A. Blood was snatched from his jealous desk. And Bob Lamon is on the [torn off]. Bob [Lincoln] and his mother have gone through to the white mountains. (I don’t take any special stock in the matter & write the locality in small letters.) Bob was so shattered by the wedding of the idol of all of us, the bright particular Teutonne, that he rushed madly off to sympathize with nature in her sternest aspects. They will be gone some time. The newspapers say the Tycoon will join them after a while. If so, he does not know it. He may possibly go for a few days to Cape May where Hill Lamon is now staying, though that is not certain.
This town is as dismal now as a defaced tombstone. Everybody has gone. I am getting apathetic & write blackguardly articles for the Chronicle from which West extracts the dirt & fun & publishes the dreary remains. The Tycoon is in fine whack. I have rarely seen him more serene & busy. He is managing this war, the draft, foreign relations, and planning a reconstruction of the Union, all at once. I never knew with what tyrannous authority he rules the Cabinet, till now. The most important things he decides & there is no cavil. I am growing more and more firmly convinced that the good of the country absolutely demands that he should be kept where he is till this thing is over. There is no man in the country, so wise, so gentle, and so firm. I believe the hand of God placed him where he is.
They are working against him like beavers though; Hale & that crowd, but don’t seem to make anything by it. I believe the people know what they want and unless politics have gained in power & lost in principle they will have it……
“He Would Break Down and Weep Bitterly”
Washington, as well as the whole country, was plunged in an agony of grief, and the excitement knew no bounds. Stanton’s grief was uncontrollable, and at the mention of Mr. Lincoln’s name he would break down and weep bitterly. General Grant and the Secretary of War busied themselves day and night in pushing a relentless pursuit of the conspirators, who were caught, and were brought to trial before a military commission, except Booth, who was shot in an attempt to capture him. John H. Surratt, who escaped from the country, was captured and tried years later, the jury disagreeing as to his guilt.
Quoted in Horace Porter,Campaigning with Grant (New York: Century Co., 1897; New York: Konecky & Konecky, 1992), pp.499
“He is Capable of More than that”
Philadelphia Lawyer George F. Harding said:
“I did not meet Stanton after that until he had been in the Cabinet some months. Much interest had been aroused by remarkable passages in certain state papers, which were thought to be quite beyond anything that could be expected of Lincoln, and which admirers of Seward and Chase had attributed to them. I thought Stanton abler than either Seward or Chase and that he was their author. When I met him next, after the usual salutation, I referred to a paper of that character which had recently appeared and said to him, JI know who is the author of that..’ Stanton asked, ‘Who do you suppose?,’ and I replied ‘You.’ ‘Not a word of it, not a word of it,’ he said. ‘Lincoln wrote it-every word of it. And he is capable of more than that. Harding, no men were ever so deceived as we at Cincinnati.’ And then he launched forth into a eulogy of Lincoln so emphatic that I could hardly credit it. Never afterwards would any disparagment of Lincoln be tolerated by Stanton or members of his family. “
–Abraham Lincoln quarterly. [Vol. 4, no. 3]
“Lincoln Was Invariably The Center Of Attention”
During his years in Springfield, Lincoln had forged an unusually loyal circle of friends. They had worked with him in the state legislature, helped him in his campaigns for Congress and the Senate, and now, at this very moment, were guiding his efforts at the Chicago convention, “moving heaven & Earth,” they assured him, in an attempt to secure him the nomination. These steadfast companions included David Davis, the Circuit Court judge for the Eighth District, whose three-hundred-pound body was matched by “a big brain and a big heart”; Norman Judd, an attorney for the railroads and chairman of the Illinois Republican state central committee; Leonard Swett, a lawyer from Bloomington who believed he knew Lincoln “as intimately as I have ever known any man in my life”; and Stephen Logan, Lincoln’s law partner for three years in the early forties.
Many of these friendships had been forged during the shared experience of the “circuit,” the eight weeks each spring and fall when Lincoln and his fellow lawyers journeyed together throughout the state. They shared rooms and sometimes beds in dusty village inns and taverns, spending long evenings gathered together around a blazing fire. The economics of the legal profession in sparsely populated Illinois were such that lawyers had to move about the state in the company of the circuit judge, trying thousands of small cases in order to make a living. The arrival of the traveling bar brought life and vitality to the county seats, fellow rider Henry Whitney recalled. Villagers congregated on the courthouse steps. When the court sessions were complete, everyone would gather in the local tavern from dusk to dawn, sharing drinks, stories, and good cheer.
In these convivial settings, Lincoln was invariably the center of attention. No one could equal his never-ending stream of stories nor his ability to reproduce them with such contagious mirth. As his winding tales became more famous, crowds of villagers awaited his arrival at every stop for the chance to hear a master storyteller. Everywhere he went, he won devoted followers, friendships that later emboldened his quest for office. Political life in these years, the historian Robert Wiebe has observed, “broke down into clusters of men who were bound together by mutual trust.” And no political circle was more loyally bound than the band of compatriots working for Lincoln in Chicago.
By Doris Kearns Goodwin，“Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln”，Goodwin-5-1-14
“He Bore it as Christ Might have Done”
That night the President and Mrs. Lincoln entertained General and Mrs. Grant and the General’s staff at dinner on the steamer, and before us all Mrs. Lincoln berated General Ord to the President, and urged that he should be removed. He was unfit for his place, she said, to say nothing of his wife. General Grant sat next and defended his officer bravely. Of course General Ord was not removed.
During all this visit similar scenes were occurring. Mrs. Lincoln repeatedly attacked her husband in the presence of officers because of Mrs. Griffin and Mrs. Ord, and I never suffered greater humiliation and pain on account of one not a near personal friend than when I saw the Head of the State, the man who carried all the cares of the nation at such a crisis-subjected to this inexpressible public mortification. He bore it as Christ might have done; with an expression of pain and sadness that cut one to the heart, but with supreme calmness and dignity. He called her “mother,” with his old-time plainness; he pleaded with eyes and tones, and endeavored to explain or palliate the offenses of others, till she turned on him like a tigress; and then he walked away, hiding that noble, ugly face that we might not catch the full expression of its misery.
By Adam Badeau, Grant in peace: from Appomattox to Mount McGregor, a personal memoir
By Dale Carnegie，“Lincoln, the Unknown” ，Carnegie-191-09