The Life of Abraham Lincoln (Arnold)/Chapter XXVI

Those who have read these pages thus far, have obtained the means of forming a more correct judgment of Abraham Lincoln than can be obtained from any attempt at description or word painting. He can be best studied and understood from his speeches, writings, acts, and conduct. And yet while conscious of his inability to do justice to his great subject, the author, who knew him from early manhood to his death, at the bar, on the stump, in private and in public life, cannot forbear the attempt to sketch and portray him as he saw and knew him.

Physically, as has been stated, he was a tall, spare man, with large bones, and towering up to six feet and four inches in height. He leaned forward, and stooped as he walked. He was very athletic, with long limbs, large hands and feet, and of great physical strength. There was no grace in his movements, but an expression of awkwardness, combined with force and vigor. By nature he was diffident, and when in crowds, not speaking and conscious of being observed, he seemed to shrink with bashfulness. When he spoke or listened, he immediately became absorbed in the subject, and all appearances of self-consciousness left him. His forehead was broad and high, his hair was rather stiff and coarse, and nearly black, his eye-brows heavy, his eyes dark grey, clear, very expressive, and varying with every mood, now sparkling with humor and fun, then flashing with wit; stern with indignation at wrong and injustice, then kind and genial, and then again dreamy and melancholy, and at times with that almost superhuman sadness which it has been said is the sign and seal of those who are to be martyrs. His nose was large, clearly defined, and well shaped; his cheek bones high and projecting. His mouth was large, but indicated firmness and decision. Ordinarily, his manner and greeting to his friends was most cordial, kind, and familiar. The glance of his eye, the genial smile on his face, the friendly tone, the hearty grasp of the hand, all indicated a man brotherly to his associates. He would have been pointed out in any crowd as a man from the Northwest. There is expression and character in handwriting. Lincoln's was plain, clear, and simple, as legible as that of Washington, but, unlike Washington's, it was without ornament. He was in one sense "the truest gentleman that ever lived." Awkward, sometimes unconventional, be was always just, unselfish, brave, and true; to the weak and to his inferiors, always considerate, gentle, and respectful. Neither at the bar, nor in public life, was he ever charged with anything dishonest, or false, or tricky, but he was always open, manly, sincere. The ruggedness of a rude age and a very imperfect education was never entirely obliterated, but he became a very intelligent and well informed man, and with the roughness of his early years there was blended a homely integrity, simplicity, and honesty, apparent in all the events of his life. He was the most magnanimous of men, always just to those who injured or sought to injure him; and if he ever did an injustice, no one was so ready to make reparation. He was a most faithful friend, and most affectionate in all his family relations. To his children he was warmly devoted.

The tenderness of his heart was apparent in all the actions of his life. He loved, and trusted, and confided in the people to a degree rarely known in a statesman. He had faith in the common every-day folk, with a yearning for their happiness almost paternal. The people seemed to feel instinctively how thoroughly he trusted them, and they revered and trusted him in turn. He was ever loyal to them, and they to him. Some have doubted whether he would have had this confident faith, if it had been his fortune to live in great cities and become familiar with the vicious and criminal classes as there exhibited. There is often seen in history an instinctive sagacity in the popular appreciation of character. The people never misunderstood, nor were they ever in the least suspicious of Lincoln.

In the endeavor to analyze his intellectual and moral character, and to state those qualities which made him so great, and which led to his success, his love of truth should be mentioned. His mental eye was clear and accurate. The question with him was not how can a good argument be made on this or that side, but what is the truth. He had a sagacity which seemed almost instinctive in sifting the true and real from the false. Extraneous circumstances, coloring, association, the accidents, did not mislead him. His mind ever went to what lawyers call the gist of a question. He was ever seeking the right, the real, and the true. He had a passion for this. He analyzed well, was exact, careful, and accurate in his statements, so that the statement was often a demonstration. What has been said implies not only sound judgment, but also the ability to present clearly the reasons for his conclusions. His memory was strong, ready, and tenacious. Although his reading was not extensive, yet his memory was so retentive and so ready, that in history, poetry, and in general literature, few, if any, marked any deficiency. As an illustration of the powers of his memory, may be related the following: A gentleman called at the White House one day, and introduced to him two officers serving in the army, one a Swede and the other a Norwegian. Immediately he repeated, to their delight, a poem of some eight or ten verses descriptive of Scandinavian scenery, and an old Norse legend. He said he had read the poem in a newspaper some years before, and liked it, but it had passed out of his memory until their visit had recalled it.

The two books which he read most were the Bible and Shakespeare. With these he was perfectly familiar. From the Bible, as has before been stated, he quoted frequently, and he read it daily, while Shakespeare was his constant companion. He took a copy with him almost always when traveling, and read it at leisure moments. He had a great love for poetry and eloquence, and his taste and judgment were excellent. Next to Shakespeare among the poets was Burns. There was a lecture of his upon Burns full of favorite quotations and sound criticism. He sympathized thoroughly with the poem, "A Man's a Man for a' That." He was very fond of simple ballads, of simple, old-fashioned, sad, and plantive music. He loved to hear Scotch ballads sung, and negro melodies, and camp-meeting hymns. Holmes's poem of "The Last Leaf" was with him a great favorite. He recited and read works of poetry and eloquence with great simplicity, but with much expression and effect. When visiting the army, or on a journey on a steamer or by rail, as well as when at home, he would take up his copy of Shakespeare and would often read aloud to his companions. He would remark: "What do you say now to a scene from Hamlet or Macbeth?" And then he would read aloud with the greatest pleasure scene after scene and favorite passages, never seeming to tire of the enjoyment. On the last Sunday of his life, as he was on the steamer returning from his visit to Richmond and City Point, he read aloud many extracts from Shakespeare. He read among other passages the following from Macbeth:

"Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further."

Senator Sumner said that "impressed by its beauty, or by something else, he read the passage a second time." His tone, manner, and accent, were so impressive, that after his assassination his friends recalled the incident, and with it this passage from the same play:

"This Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off."

In conversation he was most interesting. Few were so well informed, and fewer still so original, so impressive, and so fascinating. On every subject he had something new and striking to say; and with this there was so much genial humor, that he was attractive beyond comparison. Mirthfulness and melancholy, hilarity and sadness, were strangely combined in him. His mirth was sometimes exuberant. It sparkled in jest, story, and anecdote, while at the next moment, his peculiarly sad, pathetic, melancholy eyes would seem to wander far away, and one realized that he was a man "familiar with sorrow and acquainted with grief." This peculiar look often suggested the thought: "What has made this joyous, merry man so sad? What great sorrow lies at his heart?" Statesmen, great soldiers, scholars, and distinguished foreigners all agreed that as a conversationalist he had no equal. As a public speaker, he was the most effective of the great speakers of his day. That is, he brought more of his hearers to his conclusions than any other. There are more of his sayings, more extracts from his writings and speeches, generally familiar, than of any other American. Great as were his services as President, the influence upon the future of his words, his acts, and his character, in shaping the nation's' character, will be scarcely less important. "Honest Abe" will help to make his countrymen honest. His patriotism, his integrity, his purity, his moderation, will contribute largely to make the American people patriotic, honest, and upright. He was brought by many qualities in such close sympathy with the masses of the people, that it is not extravagant to say that the national character will be more influenced by him than by any other man in our history. Greater in some things than Washington, he had far more in common with the people than the founder of the republic, and his influence will be greater. And yet, who can measure this influence? who can estimate the power of "Aristides the Just"? who can measure the formative influence of Shakespeare?

We hear Lincoln's words in every school-house and college, in every cabin and at every public meeting. We read them in every newspaper, school-book, and magazine; and they are all in favor of right, and liberty, and truth, and of honesty and reverence for God. His words, becoming some of them as familiar as the Bible, are on the tongues of all the people, shaping the national character, and thus "though dead he yet speaketh." His life, his teaching, and his character will prolong the life of the republic. If Providence sends us other Lincolns, and enough of them, the republic may continue forever.

Lincoln was not a scholar, but where is there a speech more completely exhaustive in argument than his Cooper Institute speech? Where anything more touching and pathetic than his farewell to his neighbors at Springfield? Where anything more eloquent than the appeal for peace and union in his first inaugural? Where anything finer than his defense of the Declaration of Independence in the Douglas debates? Where the equal in moral sublimity of his speech at Gettysburg? Where anything stronger than the argument on arrests in his letter to the Albany meeting? Where anything finer than his letter to the Illinois State Convention? Where is there, in simple grandeur of thought and sentiment, the equal of his last inaugural?

It is very strange that any reader of Lincoln's speeches and writings should have the hardihood to charge him with a want of religious feeling. No more reverent Christian than he ever sat in the executive chair, not excepting Washington. He was by nature religious; full of religious sentiment. The veil between him and the supernatural was very thin. It is not claimed that he was orthodox. For creeds and dogmas he cared little. But in the great fundamental principles of religion, of the Christian religion, he was a firm believer. Belief in the existence of God, the immortality of the soul, in the Bible as the revelation of God to man, in the efficacy and duty of prayer, in reverence towards the Almighty, and in love and charity to man, was the basis of his religion. From the time he left Springfield to his death he not only himself continually prayed for divine assistance, but constantly asked the prayers of his friends for himself and his country. Declarations of his trust in God and his belief in the efficacy of prayer pervade his state papers, letters, and speeches. Pages of quotations showing this might be furnished. His reply to the negroes of Baltimore when they, in 1864, presented him with a magnificent Bible, ought to silence forever those who charge him with unbelief. He said: "In regard to the Great Book I have only to say, that it is the best gift which God has given to man. All the good from the Savior of the world is communicated through this Book."

In a letter written January 12th, 1851, when his father was dangerously ill, he says: "I sincerely hope father may yet recover his health, but at all events tell him to remember to call upon and confide in our great and good and merciful Maker, who will not turn any from Him in any extremity. He notes the fall of a sparrow, and numbers the hairs of our heads. He will not forget the dying man who puts his trust in Him... Say to him if it be his lot to go now, he will soon have a joyous meeting with loved ones gone before, and where the rest of us, through the help of God, hope ere long to join him." To a friend, who inquired why, with his marked religious character, he did not unite with some church organization, Lincoln replied: "I have never united myself to any church, because I found difficulty in giving my assent, without mental reservation, to the long and complicated statements of Christian doctrine which characterize their articles of belief and confessions of faith. When any church will inscribe over its altar, as its sole qualification for membership, the Savior's condensed statement of the substance of both law and gospel: 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself,' that church shall I join with all my heart and soul."

His statements to Mr. Bateman, in the form which Mr. Bateman declared to be substantially correct, have been quoted already.

But it is not necessary to debate the subject. All his writings prove that he was a religious man, reverent, humble, prayerful, charitable, conscientious; otherwise his whole life was a sham, and he himself a hypocrite. Doubtless, like many others, he passed through periods of doubt and perplexity; but his faith in a divine Providence began at his mother's knee, and ran through all the changes of his life. Not orthodox, not a man of creeds, he was a man of simple trust in God, living in the consciousness of the presence of the great Creator, and one whose heart was ever open to the impressions of the unseen world. He was one whom no sectarian could claim as a partisan, yet one whom every true Christian could recognize as a brother. To the poor widow, five of whose sons had been killed in battle, and the sixth severely wounded, he said: "I pray our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement." These pages might be filled with quotations of a similar character, but surely this is not necessary. When the unbeliever shall convince the people that this man, whose whole life was straightforward, truthful, clear, and honest, was a sham and a hypocrite, then, but not before, may he make the world doubt his Christianity.

Let us now for a moment try to appreciate the greatness of his work and the value of his services. What did he accomplish in the four years of his administration?

When he became President, the ship of state was tossing among the rocks, driven hither and thither by a fearful tornado. He found the treasury empty, the national credit gone, the little nucleus of an army and navy scattered and disarmed, many of the officers rebels, and those who were loyal strangers. The party which elected him was in a minority, he having received but a plurality of the popular vote. The old democratic party, which had ruled most of the time for half a century, was hostile, and a large portion of it, even in the North, in sympathy with the insurgents; while his own party was made up of discordant elements. Nor had he or his party then acquired prestige and the confidence of the people. It is the exact truth to say that when he entered the White House, he was the object of personal and unfavorable prejudice with a majority of the people, and of contempt to a powerful minority. He entered upon his work of restoring the Union without sympathy from any of the great powers of Western Europe. Those which were not open enemies manifested a cold neutrality, or a secret hostility, and none of them extended to him and his administration any cordial good-will or moral aid. The London Times gave expression to the hope and belief of the ruling classes, not only of Great Britain but of France, when it said exultingly: "The great republic is no more. The bubble is burst." Yet in spite of all this inexperienced man of the prairies, by his sagacity, his sound judgment, his wisdom, his integrity, and his trust in God, crushed the most stupendous of rebellions, and one supported by armies more vast, resources greater, and an organization more perfect than any which ever before undertook the dismemberment of a nation. He not only united and held together, against bitter and contending factions, his own party, but strengthened it by winning the confidence and support of the best part of all parties. He composed the bitter quarrels of rival military leaders, and at length discovered and placed at the head of his armies the skill and ability which secured military success. Gradually he won the respect, the confidence, the good-will and sympathy of all nations and peoples. His own countrymen learned that he was honest and patriotic, that he was as unselfish and magnanimous as he was true, and they re-elected him almost by acclamation; and after a series of brilliant victories, he overcame and destroyed all armed opposition. Ever keeping pace with public sentiment, he struck blow after blow at the institution of slavery, until he proclaimed emancipation, and crowned his work by an amendment of the Constitution, prohibiting slavery throughout the republic, thus realizing the dream of his early years. And all this he accomplished within the brief period of four years.

Those who think he lacked boldness and firmness, do not know and appreciate the man. He had no vanity in the exhibition of power, but what he thought it his duty to do, he did with a quiet firmness. What bolder act than the surrender of Mason and Slidell, against the resolution of Congress and the intense public sentiment prevailing? No member of his Cabinet, nor all of them, nor Congress itself, could induce him to swerve from his convictions of duty. The whole Senate did not succeed in coercing him to remove Mr. Seward as Secretary of State. And this man, when the hour of supreme victory came, made it not the hour of vengeance, but of reconciliation and forgiveness. No words of bitterness or of denunciation can be found in his writings or speeches. He had the almost divine power of separating the crime from the criminal. There is no doubt that he had a deep, profound conviction, a superstition, a presentiment--call it what you please--a belief that he was called and set apart for a great purpose, and that he was an instrument in the hands of God for the work he had to do. Hence his faith, his trust that right makes might. Believing this, he did his duty as God enabled him to see it, and he never in the darkest hour despaired.

Mr. Lincoln has been charged with telling coarse and indecent anecdotes. The charge, so far as it indicates any taste for indecency, is untrue. His love for the humorous was so strong, that if a story had this quality, and was racy or pointed, he did not always refrain from narrating it because the incidents were coarse. But it was always clear to the listener that the story was told for its wit and not for its vulgarity. "To the pure all things are pure," and Lincoln was a man of purity of thought as well as of life.

It will interest those who did not see him at the White House, and who have come on the stage since his death, to know something of his life and habits while he lived in the Executive Mansion. At Springfield, his home was a small, modest, comfortable wooden cottage, such as is found everywhere in the villages of our country. Here he lived in a quiet, unostentatious manner, without any pretension, and dispensed to his personal friends and members of the bar and judges, a cordial but very simple hospitality. At the White House, he was compelled by custom and usage to have large receptions, to give dinners, and to adopt a life of conventional form and ceremony, to which it was not easy for him to conform, and which was far less agreeable than the simple and easy life he had led before. His reception-room--which he called his office--was on the second floor on the south side of the White House, and the second apartment from the southeast corner, the corner room looking east towards the treasury being occupied by his private secretary. It was about twenty-five by forty feet in size. In the center, on the west, was a large white marble fire-place, with big old-fashioned brass andirons, and a large and high brass fender. A wood fire was burning in cool weather. The large windows opened on the beautiful lawn to the south, with a view of the unfinished Washington Monument, the Smithsonian Institute, the Potomac, Alexandria, and down the river towards Mt. Vernon. Across the Potomac were Arlington Heights, and Arlington House, late the residence of Robert E. Lee. On the hills around, during nearly all of his administration, were the white tents of soldiers, and field fortifications and camps, and in every direction could be seen the brilliant colors of the national flag. The furniture of this room consisted of a large oak table covered with cloth, extending north and south, and it was around this table that the Cabinet sat when it held its meetings. Near the end of the table, and between the windows, was another table, on the west side of which the President sat in a large arm chair, and at this table he wrote. A tall desk with pigeon-holes for papers stood against the south wall. The only books usually found in this room were the Bible, the United States Statutes, and a copy of Shakespeare. There were a few chairs, and two plain hair-covered sofas. There were two or three map frames, from which hung military maps on which the position and movements of the armies were traced. There was an old and discolored engraving of General Jackson on the mantel, and later a photograph of John Bright. Doors opened into this room from the room of the secretary, and from the outside hall running east and west across the House. A bell cord within reach of his hand extended to the secretary's office. A messenger stood at the door opening from the hall, who took in the cards and names of visitors. Here, in this plain room, Mr. Lincoln spent most of his time while President. Here he received everyone, from the Chief Justice and Lieutenant General to the private soldier and humblest citizen. Custom had fixed certain rules of precedence, and the order in which officials should be received. Members of the Cabinet and the high officers of the army and navy were generally promptly admitted. Senators and members of Congress were received in the order of their arrival. Sometimes there would be a crowd of senators and members of Congress waiting their turn. While thus waiting, the loud ringing laugh of Mr. Lincoln--in which he would be joined by those inside, but which was rather provoking to those outside--would be heard by the waiting and impatient crowd. Here, day after day, often from early morning to late at night, Lincoln sat, listened, talked, and decided. He was patient, just, considerate, and hopeful. The people came to him as to a father. He saw everyone, and many wasted his precious time. Governors, senators, congressmen, officers, clergymen, bankers, merchants--all classes approached him with familiarity. This incessant labor, the study of the great problems he had to decide, the worry of constant importunity, the quarrels of officers of the army, the care, anxiety, and responsibility of his position, wore upon his vigorous frame.

His friends and his family, and especially Mrs. Lincoln, watched his careworn and anxious face with the greatest solicitude. She and they sometimes took him from his labors almost in spite of himself. He walked and rode about Washington and its picturesque surroundings. He visited the hospitals, and, with his friends, and in conversation, and visits to the theatre, he sought to divert his mind from the pressure upon it. He often rode with Secretary Seward, with Senator Sumner, and others. But his greatest relief was when he was visited by his old Illinois friends, and for a while, by anecdotes and reminiscences of the past, his mind was beguiled from the constant strain upon it. These old friends were sometimes shocked with the change in his appearance. They had known him at his home, and at the courts in Illinois, with a frame of iron and nerves of steel; as a man who hardly knew what illness was, ever genial and sparkling with frolic and fun, nearly always cheery and bright. Now, as the months of the war went slowly on, they saw the wrinkles on his face and forehead deepen into furrows, the laugh of old days was less frequent, and it did not seem to come from the heart. Anxiety, responsibility, care, thought, disasters, defeats, the injustice of friends, wore upon his giant frame, and his nerves of steel became at times irritable. He said one day, with a pathos which language cannot describe: "I feel as though I shall never be glad any more." During these four years, he had no respite, no holidays. When others fled away from the heat and dust of the capital, he remained. He would not leave the helm until all danger was passed, and the good ship of state had weathered the storm. At last his labors were crowned with complete success. His great work was done, and while the shouts of victory were resounding in his ears and echoing over the land, he was assassinated.

There is but one other name in American history which can be mentioned with his as that of a peer--the name of Washington. Lincoln was as pure, as just, as patriotic, as the father of his country. He had more faith in the people, and was more hopeful for the future. Both have been so associated with our history that time will only brighten the lustre of their fame.

THE END.