The 25th of April, Burnside’s command marched through Washington, on
the way from Annapolis, to reinforce the army of the Potomac. The
President reviewed the troops from the top of the eastern portico
at Willard’s Hotel, standing with uncovered head while the entire
thirty thousand men filed through Fourteenth Street. Of course the
passage of so large a body of troops through the city--presaging as
it did the opening of the campaign--drew out a numerous concourse
of spectators, and the coming movement was everywhere the absorbing
topic of conversation. Early in the evening, Governor Curtin, of
Pennsylvania, with a friend, came into the President’s office. As he
sat down he referred to the fine appearance of Burnside’s men; saying,
with much emphasis, “Mr. President, if there is in the world one man
more than another worthy of profound respect, it is the volunteer
citizen soldier.” To this Mr. Lincoln assented, in a quiet way,--the
peculiar dreaminess of expression so remarkable at times stealing over
his face as his mind reverted to the thousands whose lives had been so
freely offered upon the altar of their country, and the myriad homes
represented by the thronging columns of the day’s review, in so many
of which there was henceforth to be weary watching and waiting for
footsteps which would return no more.
I took this opportunity to get at the truth concerning a newspaper
story which went the rounds a year or two previous, purporting to be
an account of a meeting of the loyal Governors in Washington, early
in the war. It was stated that the President laid the condition of
the country before such a council, convened at the White House, and
anxiously awaited the result. An oppressive silence followed. Curtin
was represented as having been standing, looking out of one of the
windows, drumming unconsciously upon a pane of glass. Mr. Lincoln, at
length addressing him personally, said: “Andy, what is Pennsylvania
going to do?” Turning around, Curtin replied: “She is going to send
twenty thousand men to start with, and will double it, if necessary!”
“This noble response” [quoted from memory] “overwhelmed the President,
and lifted the dead weight which seemed to have paralyzed all present.”
I repeated this account substantially as here given; but both parties
smiled and shook their heads. “It is a pity to spoil so good a story,”
returned the President, “but, unfortunately, there is not a word of
truth in it. I believe the only convocation of Governors that has
taken place during the war,” he added, looking at Curtin, “was that at
Altoona--was it not?”
Subsequently the two gentlemen proposed to visit my room, and Mr.
Lincoln accompanied them. Sitting down under the chandelier on the
edge of the long table, which ran the whole length of the apartment,
swinging back and forth his long legs, passing his hand occasionally
over his brow and through his rough hair (his appearance and manner
come back to me most vividly, as I write), he listened abstractedly
to my brief explanation of the design of the picture. When I ceased,
he took up the record in his own way. “You see, Curtin,” said he, “I
was brought to the conclusion that there was no dodging this negro
question any longer. We had reached the point where it seemed that we
must avail ourselves of this element, or in all probability go under.”
He then went over the circumstances attending the step, in much the
same language he had used upon the occasion of my first interview with
him. Governor Curtin remarked that the impression prevailed in some
quarters that Secretary Seward opposed the policy. “That is not true,”
replied Mr. Lincoln; “he advised postponement, at the first meeting,
which seemed to me sound. It was Seward’s persistence which resulted
in the insertion of the word ‘maintain,’ which I feared under the
circumstances was promising more than it was quite probable we could
carry out.”
The bill empowering the Secretary of the Treasury to sell the surplus
gold had recently passed, and Mr. Chase was then in New York, giving
his attention personally to the experiment. Governor Curtin referred
to this, saying, “I see by the quotations that Chase’s movement has
already knocked gold down several per cent.” This gave occasion for the
strongest expression I ever heard fall from the lips of Mr. Lincoln.
Knotting his face in the intensity of his feeling, he said, “Curtin,
what do you think of those fellows in Wall Street, who are gambling
in gold at such a time as this?” “They are a set of sharks,” returned
Curtin. “For my part,” continued the President, bringing his clinched
hand down upon the table, “I wish every one of them had his _devilish_
head shot off!”