CHAPTER VII

THE RULES OF EVIDENCE

THUS far we have dealt primarily with the environments of Lincoln's

religious life. We have not been able to escape the conviction

that Lincoln's religious life was an evolution, influenced by his

environment and experience. We have considered in these successive

chapters some matters in detail which seemed to belong particularly to

the respective periods of which those chapters have treated; but we

have reserved, in general, the evidence that bears upon his religion as

a whole for more critical examination. Particularly have we reserved

those portions of the evidence which, first published after his death,

belong to no one epoch of his life and have become the occasion of

controversy. What kind of man he was religiously in 1865 we shall hope

to know better; indeed, it is not unreasonable to hope that examination

may show in part the processes by which his religion found its final

form and expression.

We know already that there had been a development. We know that the

Abraham Lincoln who in 1834 delivered his political opinions in

labored and florid style and with the logic current in stump oratory

had undergone mental development and had emerged into the Lincoln who

delivered his thoughts in translucent Anglo-Saxon at Gettysburg and the

Second Inaugural. That there had been a moral and spiritual development

also we have already been assured. Perhaps it was greater than he

himself consciously understood. We shall now endeavor to ascertain what

it had come to be.

In this inquiry we have no easy task. The mass of evidence is great,

and the contradictions are many. There were contradictions in the

personality of the man himself, and many contradictions in the views

which men, even honest and unprejudiced men, had of him; and not all

the testimony is unprejudiced.

Lincoln was a man of many moods. He reacted differently to different

stimuli, and to the same stimulus at different times. His feelings ran

the gamut from abysmal dejection to rollicking gaiety: and he never

revealed his whole nature to any one man, nor showed the whole of his

nature at any one time. He cannot be judged by the mechanical tests of

a rigid consistency: for he was not that kind of man.

When Dr. J. G. Holland went to Springfield immediately after the death

of Lincoln to gather material for his biography he was surprised beyond

measure to find how conflicting were the local judgments of Lincoln's

character. Concerning this he wrote:

"Such a nature and character seem full of contradictions; and a man

who is subject to such transitions will always be a mystery to those

who do not know him wholly. Thus no two men among his intimate friends

will agree concerning him.

"The writer has conversed with multitudes of men who claimed to know

Mr. Lincoln intimately; yet there are not two of the whole number who

agree in their estimate of him. The fact was that he rarely showed

more than one aspect of himself to one man. He opened himself to

men in different directions. It was rare that he exhibited what was

religious in him; and he never did this at all, except when he found

just the nature and character that were sympathetic with that aspect

and element of his character. A great deal of his best, deepest,

largest life he kept almost constantly from view, because he would not

expose it to the eyes and apprehension of the careless multitude.

"To illustrate the effect of the peculiarity of Mr. Lincoln's

intercourse with men, it may be said that men who knew him through

all his professional and political life have offered opinions as

diametrically opposite as these, viz.: that he was a very ambitious

man, and that he was without a particle of ambition; that he was

one of the saddest men that ever lived, and that he was one of the

jolliest men that ever lived; that he was very religious, but that

he was not a Christian; that he was a Christian, but did not know it;

that he was so far from being a religious man or a Christian that 'the

less said upon the subject the better'; that he was the most cunning

man in America, and that he had not a particle of cunning in him; that

he had the strongest personal attachments, and that he had no personal

attachments at all--only a general good feeling toward everybody; that

he was a man of indomitable will, and that he was a man almost without

a will; that he was a tyrant, and that he was the softest-hearted,

most brotherly man that ever lived; that he was remarkable for his

pure-mindedness, and that he was the foulest in his jests and stories

of any man in the country; that he was a witty man, and that he was

only a retailer of the wit of others; that his apparent candor and

fairness were only apparent, and that they were as real as his head

and his hands; that he was a boor, and that he was in all essential

respects a gentleman; that he was a leader of the people, and that he

was always led by the people; that he was cool and impassive, and that

he was susceptible of the strongest passions. It is only by tracing

these separate streams of impression back to their fountain that we

are able to arrive at anything like a competent comprehension of the

man, or to learn why he came to be held in such various estimation.

Men caught only separate aspects of his character--only the fragments

that were called into exhibition by their own qualities."--HOLLAND:

_Life of Lincoln_, pp. 241-42.

Some writers, and more orators, have professed to see in the character

of Lincoln a perfect balancing of all desirable qualities. Bishop

Fowler, in what was perhaps the most widely popular of all popular

orations on Lincoln, attributed his own inability to analyze the

character of Lincoln to its perfect sphericity, a consistency such that

any attempt to consider any quality by itself met the counterbalancing

consideration of all the other qualities. But the antitheses in

Lincoln's character were not those of a perfect consistency.[27] They

were of a sort which puzzled those who knew him best, and were most

easily explained by those who gave least study to the man himself and

most to their own theories of what a man like Mr. Lincoln must have

been.

Of these sharp antitheses in Lincoln's character, Col. Clark E. Carr,

who knew him well, said in an address which I heard:

"Abraham Lincoln was the drollest man I ever saw.

"He could make a cat laugh. Never was another man so vivacious; never

have I seen another who provoked so much mirth, and who entered into

rollicking fun with such glee. He was the most comical and jocose of

human beings, laughing with the same zest at his own jokes as at those

of others. I did not wonder that, while actively engaged in party

politics, his opponents who had seen him in these moods called Abraham

Lincoln a clown and an ape.

"Abraham Lincoln was the most serious man I ever saw.

"When I heard him protest against blighting our new territories with

the curse of human slavery, in his debates with Senator Douglas,

no man could have been more in earnest, none more serious. In his

analysis of legal problems, whether in the practice of his profession

or in the consideration of State papers, he became wholly absorbed

in his subject. Sometimes he lapsed into reverie and communed with

his own thoughts, noting nothing that was going on about him until

aroused, when perhaps he would enter into a discussion of the subject

that had occupied his mind, or perhaps break out into laughter and

tell a joke or story that set the table in a roar.

"When I saw him at Gettysburg as he exclaimed, 'That we here highly

resolve that the dead shall not have died in vain; that the nation

shall, under God, have a new birth of freedom, and that the government

of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish

from the earth!'--when I heard him declare in his second inaugural

address, 'Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty

scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet if God wills that it

continue until all the wealth piled up by the bondman's two hundred

and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop

of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the

sword, as was said three thousand years, so still it must be said,

"the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether."... With

malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right

as God gives us to see the right,'--as I looked upon him and heard him

utter these sentiments, upon these occasions, Abraham Lincoln was the

most solemn, the most dignified, the most majestic, and at the same

time the most benignant human being I ever saw.

"Rochefoucauld says that 'Gravity is a mystery of the body invented to

conceal defects of the mind.' Lord Shaftesbury says that 'Gravity is

the very essence of imposture.' Abraham Lincoln had none of this.

"Man is the most serious of animals. Man is the most frivolous of

animals. It is said that man is the only animal that can both laugh

and cry. Abraham Lincoln gave full vent to his emotions. He went

through life with no restraints nor manacles upon his human nature.

He was honest in the expression of his feelings, whether serious or

otherwise, honest in their manifestation, honest with himself.

"It was because Abraham Lincoln was the most human of human

beings that he is loved as has never been any other man that ever

lived."--CLARK E. CARR: _My Day and Generation_, pp. 107-9.

There was much reason for this wide disparity of opinion in the

varying moods of Lincoln himself, and the contrary aspects of his

personality. But this was not the sole reason. Springfield itself was

greatly divided concerning Mr. Lincoln. There were lawyers who had been

on opposing sides of cases against him and had sometimes won them.

There were all the petty animosities which grow up in a small city.

Furthermore, Springfield was moderately full of disappointed people

who had expected that their friendship for Lincoln would have procured

for them some political appointment. Any political aspirant living

in Maine or Missouri who had a fourth cousin living in Springfield

and possessed of a speaking acquaintance with Mr. Lincoln, felt that

he and his kinsfolk suffered an unmerited discourtesy if Mr. Lincoln

through such influence did not produce on application a commission as

Major-General or an appointment as Ambassador to some foreign court.

We have a yet further difficulty to face in the conflict of testimony

of habitually truthful people. If it were becoming in the author of

a book such as this to pass any general criticism upon those authors

who have preceded him in the same field, it might, perhaps, be counted

not invidious to say that for the most part writers on the religion of

Lincoln have been content to adduce the testimony of a limited number

of apparently truthful witnesses in support of their theory, but have

not given the evidence very much examination beyond the general fact

that the witnesses were habitually truthful people. We shall not arrive

at the truth in this fashion.

We may borrow an illustration from a field which lies just outside the

scope of our present inquiry. Even to this day it is possible to start

a warm discussion almost anywhere in Springfield over the question of

Lincoln's domestic affairs. It is possible to prove on the testimony

of unimpeached witnesses that Lincoln loved his wife passionately, and

that he did not love her at all; that he married Mary Todd because he

loved her and had already answered in his own heart all his previous

questions and misgivings, and that he married her because she and her

relatives practically compelled him to do so, and that he went to the

marriage altar muttering that he was going to hell; that Mary Todd

not only admired Abraham Lincoln, but loved him with a beautiful and

wifely devotion, and that she hated him and never ceased to wreak

revenge upon him for having once deserted her upon the eve of their

announced marriage; that Mary Todd wore a white silk dress on the night

of her wedding, and that she never owned a white silk dress until she

had become a resident of the White House; that the wedding was a gay

affair, with a great dinner, and was followed by a reception for which

several hundred printed invitations were issued, and that the wedding

was hastily performed on a Sunday evening, Mr. Dresser, the minister,

cutting short his evening service and dropping in on the way home

to solemnize a quickly extemporized marriage contract. It would seem

fairly easy to discover from a calendar of the year 1842 at least

what day in the week was chosen for the wedding, but few if any of

the disputants, or even of the biographers, appear to have taken this

pains. If the present writer should ever have occasion to write about

Abraham Lincoln's married life, he would not proceed very far without

consulting a calendar for that year; and he would hope to settle at

least one point in the controversy by telling the world that in 1842

the fourth day of November did not occur on Sunday or Tuesday, but on

Friday;[28] Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln both being tinged with superstition,

he might raise the question whether the celebration of the wedding upon

that date probably was or was not long premeditated. But the present

book does not concern itself with these questions, and the matter is

here introduced merely to illustrate that no point in controversy in a

matter of this character can be definitely settled by the unsupported

testimony of a single honest witness relying upon his memory after the

lapse of many years.

Evidence such as we are to consider is of two kinds, known in logic

as _a priori_ and _a posteriori_. The first kind is evidence from

antecedent probability; the second is evidence relating to matter after

the fact. An illustration will serve:

A man is found dead, with a wound in his forehead, and there are no

witnesses who can be produced in court who saw the man die. The wound

appears to have been produced by a bullet, and, as no weapon is found

beside the body, there is a presumption that the man has been murdered.

A neighbor is accused of having committed the deed. The _a priori_

evidence is adduced in testimony that the defendant and the deceased

had long been on bad terms with each other on account of a line fence

between their adjacent properties; that the defendant had threatened

to kill the deceased and had recently bought a revolver. The evidence

_a posteriori_ is found in the fact that the defendant's revolver on

examination shows one empty chamber and that the ball in the deceased

man's brain is of the caliber suited to his weapon and of the same

manufacture as the unused cartridges in the weapon. To this may be

added other incriminating facts, as of measured footprints near the

scene of murder which correspond to the size of the defendant's boots,

and of possible blood stains upon his clothing.

A very large volume of _a priori_ evidence is sometimes set aside

by a single _a posteriori_ fact; for instance, in the foregoing

supposititious case it may be entirely possible to prove that the

murder was committed by a tramp, and that the defendant was ten miles

away at the time the deed was done.

On the other hand, a large volume of _a posteriori_ evidence sometimes

disappears in the face of a single _a priori_ consideration. A man is

accused of having stolen a sheep. It is shown in evidence that on the

evening when the sheep was stolen he walked through his neighbor's

pasture and was seen to approach the sheep; that he sold mutton on the

day after the loss of the sheep, and that a fresh sheepskin was found

nailed to his barn door. All this _a posteriori_ evidence and much more

may be completely set aside in the minds of the jury by the single fact

that the man accused has lived for forty years in the community and has

borne a reputation incompatible with the crime of sheep-stealing.

In the examination of testimony concerning alleged utterances of

Abraham Lincoln in matters of religious belief, we must ask such

questions as these:

Is the witness credible? Had he opportunity to know what he professes

to relate? Were other witnesses present, and if so, do they agree in

their recollection of the words spoken? Was the interview published at

a time when it could have been denied by those who had knowledge of

the incident? Had the witness time to enlarge the incident by frequent

telling and by such exaggeration and enlargement of detail as is likely

to occur with the lapse of years? Had the witness a probable motive

for exaggeration; does he appear to tell what he would presumably have

liked Mr. Lincoln to say, and does it sound more like the narrator's

own style than it does like Mr. Lincoln? Do the language and the

sentiments expressed accord with the published addresses, letters, and

authentic documents of Abraham Lincoln, and are the views expressed

in accord with the views which he is known to have held? On the other

hand, is it possible that in the freedom of personal conversation Mr.

Lincoln may have said some things which he would not have been likely

to say in formal discourse or to write in official documents?

It is not necessary that we formally ask these and only these

questions; but these are the kinds of sieve through which oral

testimony must be passed if we are to learn the truth.

Particular care needs to be exercised in the application of these

tests, and especially in the employment of all _a priori_ methods. The

author of this volume is a Christian minister, and would be heartily

glad to find in Mr. Lincoln's authentic utterances indubitable evidence

that Mr. Lincoln was essentially a Christian; there is need that he

take especial care not to apply these discriminating tests in such

fashion as to sustain his own prejudices. Nor must he magnify his

caution until it becomes an inverted prejudice.

On the other hand, the _a priori_ method must on no account be ruled

out. Mr. Lincoln left a great quantity of authentic material. His

speeches, letters, and state papers fill twelve volumes, and even

these do not contain all of his signed material. We are compelled to

judge alleged utterances of his somewhat in the light of our certain

knowledge of what he wrote and said. Let us illustrate the application

of this principle:

If an aged man living in central Illinois were now to arise

and say: "I knew Abraham Lincoln, and he said to me one day in

private conversation, 'There is no God,'" we should be justified

in discrediting that man's testimony, even though he bore a good

reputation for veracity. The antecedent improbability of such a

declaration on the part of Mr. Lincoln is too great for us to accept it

on the basis of one man's recollection of a private and unwitnessed

conversation fifty years after Mr. Lincoln's death.

We should be equally justified in rejecting the testimony at this late

date of one of Mr. Lincoln's old-time neighbors who would say that Mr.

Lincoln told him that he believed the whole of the Athanasian Creed.

Especial care is necessary in dealing with the alleged utterances of

deceased persons in matters of religion. The author of this book has

conducted a thousand funerals, and has been told every conceivable kind

of story concerning some of the persons deceased. To the credit of our

frail humanity be it recorded that nine-tenths of this testimony was

favorable. There are few finer traits in human nature than those which

prompt us to speak only good of the dead. The eagerness of those who

have known not only the virtues but the faults of living men to pass

lightly over the faults and emphasize the virtues of these same men

when they are dead is not only a manifestation of the finest sort of

love of fair play in refusing to accuse those who cannot make answer,

but is also an exhibition of one of the noblest impulses of the human

spirit.

Even the tendency of ministers to lie like gentlemen on funeral

occasions is not to be too unsparingly condemned. It springs from a

belief that the better part of a man's life is the truer part of him,

and that a man has a right to be judged by the best that is in him not

only of achievement but even of defeated aspiration.

William Allen White is fond of relating a story concerning a funeral in

Kansas. The minister was in the midst of his eulogy when a man who had

come in late and had not heard the beginning of the discourse tiptoed

down the aisle, took a long look into the coffin, and returned to his

seat. The minister, somewhat disconcerted by this proceeding, addressed

him, saying, "The opportunity to view the remains will be given later."

"I know that," replied the man, "but I had begun to suspect that I had

gotten into the wrong funeral."

One who has had much experience with funerals and with attempts to

make dead men appear better than the same men living actually were or

appeared to be, knows that these efforts are not usually the result of

deliberate falsehood. They grow out of generous impulses and an easy

tendency to exaggeration. But some people do actually lie, and this

fact also is not wholly to be forgotten.

With these reminders of human frailty and human generosity and of the

uncertainty of all things human, we proceed to examine in some detail

the vast and contradictory mass of evidence which after the death of

Abraham Lincoln was published concerning his faith or the lack of it.

* * * * *

What is in some respects the foremost example of platform and pulpit

oratory concerning Lincoln is the oration of Bishop Charles Henry

Fowler, deceased, of the Methodist Episcopal Church. It illustrates at

once the excellency and the defects of works of this character. The

oration had its beginning in a eulogy delivered in Chicago on May 4,

1865, the day of Lincoln's burial at Springfield. From time to time as

years went by, Bishop Fowler had occasion to deliver other addresses on

Lincoln, which, in 1904, he reshaped into something like the final form

of the oration. First delivered in Minneapolis, it was repeated in many

cities and before great audiences. It became the Bishop's best known

and most popular address. It is the first and easily the greatest of

the five that make up the volume of his Patriotic Orations, the others

being on Grant, McKinley, Washington, and The Great Deeds of Great

Men. Of that large book it fills more than a hundred pages. It was too

long ever to be delivered at one time, but it was completely written,

and fully committed to memory, so that he chose at each delivery what

portions he would utter and what he would omit. Even with the omissions

he rarely spoke less than two and one-half hours, and sometimes

occupied three hours, his audiences hearing with sustained interest to

the close. Of it his son says, that "through its delivery in various

parts of the country, and by the natural process of accretion and

attraction, new facts were added and others verified, until in 1906 it

was put in this final form."

Here is an address whose composition occupied a strong and able man

for thirty-one years. It thrills with admiration for its subject. It

is alive with patriotism and religion. It deserved, in many respects,

the attention which it received. Men have been known to say that having

heard this address they would never spoil the impression by listening

to any other address on Lincoln.

And yet it would not be safe to quote this lecture in any of its

substantial parts without further investigation of the authority

on which Bishop Fowler relied. He was a truthful man, and a man of

ability, and if he had been asked what means he took to verify his

statements, he would probably have said that he admitted no statement

to his lecture which he did not find attested by some competent and

truthful witness. Doubtless so, and most of the lecture is true, and

the impression which it makes as a whole is substantially true, but

that is not enough. Doubtless Bishop Fowler read in some book or

magazine article by a truthful writer that on the day Lincoln submitted

the Emancipation proclamation to his Cabinet, he first read in the

presence of the Cabinet a chapter in the Bible. It would not have

required very much of investigation to have convinced Bishop Fowler

that what Lincoln really read was not the Bible, but Artemus Ward. He

did not intend to lie about it. He picked up the account from some

other speaker who had heard or read that Lincoln read a chapter from

some book, and thought that the Bible was the proper book to read on

an occasion of that character. Neither the speaker nor Bishop Fowler

intended to be untruthful, but neither of them had any training in or

inclination toward historical investigation. It would be easy to guess

that a thousand Methodist preachers and some others have retold the

story on the authority of Bishop Fowler. And that is far from being the

only inaccuracy in the lecture. Indeed, it shows throughout how much

it grew "by the natural process of accretion and attraction" and how

little by the verification of the facts.

This lecture is cited because it is in many respects the very best

of its type, as it is probably also the most noted, and one that was

delivered to more people than any other on Abraham Lincoln.

It does not suffice to rely upon any second authorities in

investigations of this character, nor to accept the statements of even

truthful witnesses without some sifting of the evidence.

With this in mind, we come to what is the most crucial and difficult of

all the incidents bearing upon our inquiry--the incident reported to

Dr. Holland by President Bateman.

The Soul of Abraham Lincoln · 第 2 / 17 章