Part 13

“Shortly afterward,” he continued, “a reference was casually made to Colonel Hardin, who was killed in the Mexican War,--who at one time was a representative in Congress from Illinois; and this drew out a story from Stephens. ‘On a certain occasion,’ he said, ‘when the House was in session, a dispute arose between Hardin and others of the Illinois delegation as to the proper pronunciation of the name of their State. Some insisted it was “_Illinoy_,” others as stoutly that it was “_Illinois_.” Hardin at length appealed to the venerable John Quincy Adams. “If one were to judge from the character of the representatives in this Congress from that State,” said the old man, with a malicious smile, “I should decide unhesitatingly that the proper pronunciation was ‘_All noise!_’”’”

In the Augusta (Ga.) “Chronicle,” of the 17th of June, 1865, there appeared a report of this conference, purporting to have been written out from the lips of Mr. Stephens, so characteristic of Mr. Lincoln, that I subjoin the following extracts:--

“The three Southern gentlemen met Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Seward, and after some preliminary remarks, the subject of peace was opened. Mr. Stephens, well aware that one who asks much may get more than he who confesses to humble wishes at the outset, urged the claims of his section with that skill and address for which the Northern papers have given him credit. Mr. Lincoln, holding the vantage-ground of conscious power, was, however, perfectly frank, and submitted his views almost in the form of an argument.

... “Davis had on this occasion, as on that of Mr. Stephens’s visit to Washington, made it a condition that no conference should be had unless his rank as commander or President should first be recognized. Mr. Lincoln declared that the only ground on which he could rest the justice of the war--either with his own people or with foreign powers--was that it was not a war for conquest, for that the States had never been separated from the Union. Consequently, he could not recognize another government inside of the one of which he alone was President, nor admit the separate independence of States that were yet a part of the Union. ‘That,’ said he, ‘would be doing what you have so long asked Europe to do in vain, and be resigning the only thing the armies of the Union are fighting for.’

“Mr. Hunter made a long reply to this, insisting that the recognition of Davis’s power to make a treaty was the first and indispensable step to peace, and referred to the correspondence between King Charles I. and his Parliament, as a trustworthy precedent of a constitutional ruler treating with rebels.

“Mr. Lincoln’s face then wore that indescribable expression which generally preceded his hardest hits, and he remarked: ‘Upon questions of history I must refer you to Mr. Seward, for he is posted in such things, and I don’t pretend to be bright. My only distinct recollection of the matter is, that Charles lost his head.’ That settled Mr. Hunter for a while.”

* * * * *

“During the interview it appears that Hunter declared that he had never entertained any fears for his person or life from so mild a government as that of the United States. To which Mr. Lincoln retorted that he, also, had felt easy as to the Rebels, but not always so easy about the lamp-posts around Washington City,--a hint that he had already done more favors for the Rebels than was exactly popular with the radical men of his own party.

“Mr. Lincoln’s manner had now grown more positive. He suggested that it would be better for the Rebel States to return at once than to risk the chances of continuing the war, and the increasing bitterness of feeling in Congress. The time might come, he said, when they would not be considered as an erring people invited back to citizenship, but would be looked upon as enemies to be exterminated or ruined.

“During the conference, the amendment to the Federal Constitution, which has just been adopted by Congress, was read, providing that neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except for crime, should exist within the United States, or any place within its jurisdiction, and Congress should have power to enforce the amendment by appropriate legislation.” The report says, “Mr. Seward then remarked: Mr. President, it is as well to inform these gentlemen that yesterday Congress acted upon the amendment of the Constitution abolishing slavery.”

“Mr. Lincoln stated this to be true, and suggested that there was a question as to the right of the insurgent States to return at once and claim a right to vote upon the amendment, to which the concurrence of two thirds of the States was required. He stated that it would be desirable to have the institution of slavery abolished by the consent of the people as soon as possible,--he hoped within six years. He also stated that four hundred millions of dollars might be offered as compensation to the owners, and remarked, ‘You would be surprised were I to give you the names of those who favor that.’”

* * * * *

“Mr. Stephens came home with a new cause of sorrow, and those who said he talked of coming home to make war speeches and denounce the terms offered, simply lied. Before Mr. Lincoln’s death, he thought he was doing a favor to him not to include that offer of four hundred millions in gold for the Southern slaves in the published report, for it would be used to the injury of Mr. Lincoln by those of his enemies who talk about taxation and the debt.

“Mr. Stephens has frequently expressed no apprehensions should the fortunes of war throw him into the hands of Mr. Lincoln, and said he would not get out of the way of a raid were it not for appearances, on account of the office he held. He spoke of Mr. Lincoln as an old friend who had generally voted with him in Congress, and who had a good heart and fine mind, and was undoubtedly honest.”

LXI.

Visitors to the Executive Chamber, during the administration of Mr. Lincoln, will remember the lithographic map, showing the slave population of the Southern States in graduated light and shade, which usually leaned against a leg of his desk or table, and bore the marks of much service. The States and counties most abounding in slaves were indicated on this map by degrees of blackness, so that by a glance the proportion of whites and blacks in the different States at the commencement of the Rebellion could be easily comprehended.

Wishing to introduce this map into my picture, I carried it off one day, without the President’s knowledge, and as the copying of it was a tedious affair, it remained in the studio for some time. This chanced to be during the week of Kilpatrick’s great cavalry raid in Virginia. One afternoon the President came in alone, as was his wont,--the observation of the daily progress of the picture appearing to afford him a species of recreation. Presently his eye fell upon the map, leaning against a chair, as I had left it after making the study. “Ah!” said he, “_you_ have appropriated my map, have you? I have been looking all around for it.” And with that he put on his spectacles, and, taking it up, walked to the window; and sitting down upon a trunk began to pore over it very earnestly. He pointed out Kilpatrick’s position, when last heard from, and said:--

“It is just as I thought it was. He is close upon ---- County, where the slaves are thickest. Now we ought to get a ‘heap’ of them, when he returns.”

This conversation occurred, I recollect, just after his solitary lunch,--the family being away at the time. It was often a matter of surprise to me how the President sustained life; for it seemed, some weeks, as though he neither ate nor slept. His habits continued as simple as when he was a practising lawyer in Springfield, but they came to be very irregular. During the months of my intercourse with him he rarely entertained company at dinner. Almost daily, at this hour, I met a servant carrying a simple meal upon a tray up-stairs, where it was received, perhaps two hours later, in the most unceremonious manner. I knew this irregularity of life was his own fault; but the wonder as to how his system endured the strain brought to bear upon it was not lessened by this knowledge.

All familiar with him will remember the weary air which became habitual during his last years. This was more of the mind than the body, and no rest and recreation which he allowed himself could relieve it. As he sometimes expressed it, the remedy “seemed never to reach the _tired_ spot.”

Mr. Lincoln’s height was six feet three and three-quarter inches “in his stocking-feet.” He stood up, one day, at the right of my large canvas, while I marked his exact height upon it.

His frame was gaunt but sinewy, and inclined to stoop when he walked. His head was of full medium size, with a broad brow, surmounted by rough, unmanageable hair, which, he once said, had “a way of getting up as far as possible in the world.” Lines of care ploughed his face,--the hollows in his cheeks and under his eyes being very marked. The mouth was his plainest feature, varying widely from classical models,--nevertheless expressive of much firmness and gentleness of character.

His complexion was inclined to sallowness, though I judged this to be the result, in part, of his anxious life in Washington. His eyes were blueish-gray in color,--always in deep shadow, however, from the upper lids, which were unusually heavy, (reminding me, in this respect, of Stuart’s portrait of Washington,)--and the expression was remarkably pensive and tender, often inexpressibly sad, as if the reservoir of tears lay very near the surface,--a fact proved not only by the response which accounts of suffering and sorrow invariably drew forth, but by circumstances which would ordinarily affect few men in his position.

The Hon. Mr. Frank, of New York, told me that just after the nomination of Mr. Chase as Chief Justice, a deeply interesting conversation upon this subject took place one evening between himself and the President, in Mrs. Lincoln’s private sitting-room. Mr. Lincoln reviewed Mr. Chase’s political course and aspirations at some length, alluding to what he had felt to be an estrangement from him personally, and to various sarcastic and bitter expressions reported to him as having been indulged in by the ex-Secretary, both before and after his resignation. The Congressman replied that such reports were always exaggerated, and spoke very warmly of Mr. Chase’s great services in the hour of the country’s extremity, his patriotism, and integrity to principle. The tears instantly sprang into Mr. Lincoln’s eyes. “Yes,” said he, “that is true. We have stood together in the time of trial, and I should despise myself if I allowed personal differences to affect my judgment of his fitness for the office of Chief Justice.”

LXII.

The President’s friend, the Hon. H. C. Deming of Connecticut, once ventured to ask him “if he had ever despaired of the country?” “When the Peninsula campaign terminated suddenly at Harrison’s Landing,” rejoined Mr. Lincoln, “I was as nearly inconsolable as I could be and live.” In the same connection Colonel Deming inquired if there had ever been a period in which he thought that better management upon the part of the commanding general might have terminated the war? “Yes,” answered the President, “there were three: at ‘Malvern Hill,’ when McClellan failed to command an immediate advance upon Richmond; at ‘Chancellorville,’ when Hooker failed to reënforce Sedgwick, after hearing his cannon upon the extreme right; and at ‘Gettysburg,’ when Meade failed to attack Lee in his retreat at the bend of the Potomac.” After this commentary, the Congressman waited for an outburst of denunciation--for a criticism, at least--upon the delinquent officers; but he waited in vain. So far from a word of censure escaping Mr. Lincoln’s lips, he soon added, that his first remark might not appear uncharitable: “I do not know that I could have given any different orders had I been with them myself. I have not fully made up my mind how I should behave when minie-balls were whistling, and those great oblong shells shrieking in my ear. I might run away.”

The interview at which this conversation took place, occurred just after General Fremont had declined to run against him for the presidency. The magnificent Bible which the negroes of Baltimore had just presented to him lay upon the table, and while examining it, Colonel Deming recited the somewhat remarkable passage from the Chronicles: “Eastward were six Levites, northward four a day, southward four a day, and toward Assuppim, two and two. At Parbar westward, four at the causeway, and two at Parbar.” The President immediately challenged his friend to find any such passage in _his_ Bible. After it was pointed out to him, and he was satisfied of its genuineness, he asked the Congressman if he remembered the text which his friends had recently applied to Fremont, and instantly turned to a verse in the first of Samuel, put on his spectacles, and read in his slow, peculiar, and waggish tone: “And every one that was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every one that was discontented, gathered themselves unto him, and he became a captain over them, and there were with him about four hundred men.”

LXIII.

The letter of General Fremont withdrawing from the presidential canvass of 1864, after having accepted the nomination of the Cleveland Convention, was an unfortunate one for his political reputation, whatever may have been thought of the military career of that once popular leader. Without attempting any discussion of the merits of the controversy between him and the Government, I think it cannot be denied that Mr. Lincoln ever bore toward General Fremont the sincerest good will, though for reasons perhaps not yet fairly estimated, as a commander he had failed to realize the public expectation.

Some months subsequent to Fremont’s removal from the Western Department, one of his personal friends, Mr. Henry C. Bowen, of Brooklyn, happened to be in Washington. Passing the Executive Chamber, on his way to the private secretary’s office one day, he observed the door ajar, and the President standing near it, in the act of taking down a book from the bookcase. Catching a glimpse of him, Mr. Lincoln said, “Come in; you are the very man I want to see.” Mr. Bowen entered the office, and the President, laying aside other business, said: “I have been thinking a great deal lately about Fremont; and I want to ask you, as an old friend of his, what is thought about his continuing inactive?” “Mr. President,” returned Mr. Bowen, “I will say to you frankly, that a large class of people feel that General Fremont has been badly treated, and nothing would give more satisfaction, both to him and to his friends, than his reappointment to a command commensurate, in some degree, with his rank and ability.” “Do you think he would accept an inferior position to that he occupied in Missouri?” asked the President. “I have that confidence in General Fremont’s patriotism, that I venture to promise for him in advance,” was the earnest reply. “Well,” rejoined Mr. Lincoln, thoughtfully, “I have had it on my mind for some time that Fremont should be given a chance to redeem himself. The great hue and cry about him has been concerning his expenditure of the public money. I have looked into the matter a little, and I can’t see as he has done any worse or any more, in that line, than our _Eastern_ commanders. At any rate, he shall have another trial!” The result, close upon this interview, was the appointment of Fremont to the “Mountain Department of Western Virginia.”

While Mr. Bowen was in Washington, he drove out, by invitation one evening, with one or two friends, to the Soldier’s Home, where the President spent the nights of midsummer. More at leisure there than at the “shop,” as he was in the habit of calling his official chamber at the White House, Mr. Lincoln sat down with the party for a leisurely conversation. “I know,” he said to Mr. Bowen, “that you are a great admirer of Mr. Chase and Mr. Seward. Now, I will tell you a circumstance that may please you. Before sunset of election-day, in 1860, I was pretty sure, from the despatches I received, that I was elected. The very first thing that I settled in my mind, after reaching this conclusion, was that these two great leaders of the party should occupy the two first places in my cabinet.”

LXIV.

“The Soldier’s Home,” writes a California lady,[10] who visited Mr. Lincoln there, “is a few miles out of Washington on the Maryland side. It is situated on a beautifully wooded hill, which you ascend by a winding path, shaded on both sides by wide-spread branches, forming a green arcade above you. When you reach the top you stand between two mansions, large, handsome, and substantial, but with nothing about them indicative of the character of either. That on your left is the Presidential country-house; that directly before you, the ‘Rest’ for soldiers who are too old for further service.... The ‘Home’ only admitted soldiers of the regular army; but in the graveyard near at hand there are numberless graves--some without a spear of grass to hide their newness--that hold the bodies of volunteers.

“While we stood in the soft evening air, watching the faint trembling of the long tendrils of waving willow, and feeling the dewy coolness that was flung out by the old oaks above us, Mr. Lincoln joined us, and stood silent, too, taking in the scene.

“‘How sleep the brave, who sink to rest By all their country’s wishes blest,’--

he said, softly.

“There was something so touching in the picture opened before us,--the nameless graves, the solemn quiet, the tender twilight air, but more particularly our own feminine disposition to be easily melted, I suppose,--that it made us cry as if we stood beside the tomb of our own dead, and gave point to the lines which he afterwards quoted:--

“‘And women o’er the graves shall weep, Where nameless heroes calmly sleep.’”

* * * * *

“Around the ‘Home’ grows every variety of tree, particularly of the evergreen class. Their branches brushed into the carriage as we passed along, and left with us that pleasant, woody smell belonging to leaves. One of the ladies, catching a bit of green from one of these intruding branches, said it was cedar, and another thought it spruce.

“‘Let me discourse on a theme I understand,’ said the President. ‘I know all about trees in light of being a backwoodsman. I’ll show you the difference between spruce, pine, and cedar, and this shred of green, which is neither one nor the other, but a kind of illegitimate cypress.’ He then proceeded to gather specimens of each, and explain the distinctive formation of foliage belonging to every species. ‘Trees,’ he said, ‘are as deceptive in their likeness to one another as are certain classes of men, amongst whom none but a physiognomist’s eye can detect dissimilar moral features until events have developed them. Do you know it would be a good thing if in all the schools proposed and carried out by the improvement of modern thinkers, we could have a school of events?’

“‘A school of events?’ repeated the lady he addressed.

“‘Yes,’ he continued, ‘since it is only by that active development that character and ability can be tested. Understand me, I now mean men, not trees; _they_ can be tried, and an analysis of their strength obtained less expensive to life and human interests than man’s. What I say now is a mere whimsey, you know; but when I speak of a school of events, I mean one in which, before entering real life, students might pass through the mimic vicissitudes and situations that are necessary to bring out their powers and mark the calibre to which they are assigned. Thus, one could select from the graduates an invincible soldier, equal to any position, with no such word as fail; a martyr to Right, ready to give up life in the cause; a politician too cunning to be outwitted; and so on. These things have all to be tried, and their sometime failure creates confusion as well as disappointment. There is no more dangerous or expensive analysis than that which consists of trying a man.’

“‘Do you think all men are tried?’ was asked.

“‘Scarcely,’ said Mr. Lincoln, ‘or so many would not fit their place so badly. Your friend, Mr. Beecher, being an eloquent man, explains this well in his quaint illustration of people out of their sphere,--the clerical faces he has met with in gay, rollicking life, and the natural wits and good brains that have by a freak dropped into ascetic robes.’

“‘Some men seem able to do what they wish in any position, being equal to them all,’ said some one.

“‘Versatility,’ replied the President, ‘is an injurious possession, since it never can be greatness. It misleads you in your calculations from its very agreeability, and it inevitably disappoints you in any great trust from its want of depth. A versatile man, to be safe from execration, should never soar; mediocrity is sure of detection.’

“On our return to the city we had reached that street--I forget its name--crossing which you find yourself out of Maryland and in the District of Columbia. Wondering at this visible boundary that made certain laws and regulations apply to one side of a street that did not reach the other, I lost the conversation, till I found it consisted of a discursive review of General McClellan’s character, in which I was directly appealed to to know if we had not at one time considered him the second Napoleon in California.

“I hastened to say that I had found, in travelling in the New England States, more fervent admirers of the Unready than I had ever known to expend speculative enthusiasm upon him among us.

“‘So pleasant and scholarly a gentleman can never fail to secure personal friends,’ said the President. ‘In fact,’ he continued, kindly,

‘“Even his failings lean to virtue’s side.”

A keen sense of genius in another, and a reverence for it that forced expression, was out of place at Seven Oaks, as beautiful things sometimes will be. He was lost in admiration of General Lee, and filled with that feeling, forebore to conquer him. The quality that would prove noble generosity in a historian, does not fit the soldier. Another instance of the necessity for my suggestion being carried into effect,’ he added, smiling.

“When in New York a few months afterwards, I heard the regular dinner-table conversation turn on the ‘Nero who cracked jokes while Rome was burning,’ and the hundred and one wicked things the McClellanites said of Mr. Lincoln, I recalled the gentle verdict I had heard, and acknowledged how bitterly a noble Christian gentleman may be belied. It was after McClellan’s speech at West Point, and his admirers were wild with enthusiasm over the learning and classic taste it displayed. The word ‘scholarly’ rang from mouth to mouth in characterizing it,--the very word Mr. Lincoln had used months before in finding a merciful excuse for his inefficiency.