Judge Bates, the Attorney-General, was one day very severe upon the
modern deal school of art, as applied to historic characters and
events. He instanced in sculpture, Greenough’s “Washington,” in the
Capitol grounds, which, he said, was a very good illustration of the
heathen idea of Jupiter Tonans, but was the farthest possible remove
from any American’s conception of the Father of his Country. Powell’s
painting in the Rotunda, “De Soto discovering the Mississippi,” and
Mills’s equestrian statue of Jackson, in front of the President’s
House, shared in his sarcastic condemnation. He quoted from an old
English poet--Creech, I think he said--with much unction:--
“Whatever contradicts my sense
I hate to see, and can but disbelieve.”
“Genius and talent,” said he, on another occasion, “are rarely found
combined in one individual.” I requested his definition of the
distinction. “Genius,” he replied, “conceives; talent executes.”
Referring to Mr. Lincoln’s never-failing fund of anecdote, he remarked,
“The character of the President’s mind is such that his thought
habitually takes on this form of illustration, by which the point
he wishes to enforce is invariably brought home with a strength and
clearness impossible in hours of abstract argument. Mr. Lincoln,” he
added, “comes very near being a perfect man, according to my ideal of
manhood. He lacks but one thing.” Looking up from my palette, I asked,
musingly, if this was official dignity as President. “No,” replied
Judge Bates, “that is of little consequence. His deficiency is in the
element of _will_. I have sometimes told him, for instance, that he was
unfit to be intrusted with the pardoning power. Why, if a man comes
to him with a touching story, his judgment is almost certain to be
affected by it. Should the applicant be a _woman_, a wife, a mother, or
a sister,--in nine cases out of ten, her tears, if nothing else, are
sure to prevail.”