THE MEASURE OF A MAN.
"God's plan
And measure of a stalwart man."--_Lowell_.
Lincoln's physical characteristics have been sufficiently described,--
his unmanageable height and his giant strength. His mental traits have
been treated in chapter xxxv. We now consider his moral qualities, that
is to say his character.
Conspicuous was his honesty. The sobriquet "Honest Abe Lincoln," which
his neighbors fastened on him in his youth was never lost, shaken off,
or outgrown. This was something more than the exactness of commercial
honesty which forbade him to touch a penny of the funds that remained
over from the extinct post-office of New Salem, though the government
was for years negligent in the matter of settling up. In youth he
always insisted on fairness in sports so that he came to be the
standing umpire of the neighborhood. It came out also in his practise
of the law, when he would not lend his influence to further scoundrel
schemes, nor would he consent to take an unfair advantage of an
opponent. But the glory of his honesty appeared in his administration.
It is a wonderful fact that there has never been any suspicion, even
among his enemies, that he used the high powers of his office for gain,
or for the furtherance of his political ambition. When contracts, to
the amount of many millions of dollars, were being constantly given out
for a period of four years, there was never a thought that a dishonest
dollar would find its way, either directly or indirectly, into the
hands of the President, or with his consent into the hands of his
friends. When he was a candidate for reelection he was fully aware that
some officials of high station were using their prerogatives for the
purpose of injuring him. It was in his power to dismiss these in
disgrace,--and they deserved it. This he refused to do. So long as
they did well their official duties, he overlooked their injustice to
him. No President has surpassed him in the cleanness of his record, and
only Washington has equaled him.
His tenderness of heart over-rode almost everything. In childhood he
would not permit boys to put live coals on the back of a turtle. In
youth he stayed out all night with a drunkard to prevent his freezing
to death, a fate which his folly had invited. In young manhood with the
utmost gentleness he restored to their nest some birdlings that had
been beaten out by the storm. When a lawyer on the circuit, be
dismounted from his horse and rescued a pig that was stuck in the mud.
This spoiled a suit of clothes, because he had to lift the pig in his
arms. His explanation was that he could not bear to think of that
animal in suffering, and so he did it simply for his own peace of mind.
But when he became President, his tenderness of heart was as beautiful
as the glow of the sunset. To him the boys in blue were as sons. On him
as on no one else the burden of the nation's troubles rested. It may
with reverence be said that he "bore our sorrows, he carried our
grief." Not only was this true in general, but in specific cases his
actions showed it. When the soldiers were under sentence from court-
martial--many of them mere boys--the sentence came to Lincoln for
approval. If he could find any excuse whatever for pardon he would
grant it. His tendency to pardon, his leaning towards the side of
mercy, became proverbial and greatly annoyed some of the generals who
feared military discipline would be destroyed. But he would not turn a
deaf ear to the plea of mercy, and he could not see in it any permanent
danger to the republic. One or two examples will stand fairly for a
large number. When a boy was sentenced to death for desertion, he said:
"Must I shoot a simple-minded soldier boy who deserts, and not touch a
hair of the wily agitator who induces him to desert? I think that in
such a case, to silence the agitator and save the boy, is not only
constitutional, but withal a great mercy."
Early in the war he pardoned a boy who was sentenced to be shot for
sleeping at his post as sentinel. By way of explanation the President
said: "I could not think of going into eternity with the blood of that
poor young man on my skirts. It is not to be wondered at that a boy,
raised on a farm, probably in the habit of going to bed at dark,
should, when required to watch, fall asleep; and I cannot consent to
shoot him for such an act." The sequel is romantic. The dead body of
this boy was found among the slain on the field of the battle of
Fredericksburg. Next his heart was a photograph of the President on
which he had written "God bless President Abraham Lincoln!"
On the 21st day of November, 1864, he wrote to Mrs. Bixby, of Boston,
Mass., the following letter which needs no comment or explanation:
"DEAR MADAM: I have been shown, in the files of the War Department, a
statement of the Adjutant-General of Massachusetts, that you are the
mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle. I
feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine which should
attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I
cannot refrain from tendering to you the consolation that may be found
in the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our
Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave
you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn
pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the
altar of freedom.
Yours, very sincerely and respectfully,
ABRAHAM LINCOLN."
A different side of his character is shown in the following incident. A
slave-trader had been condemned, in Newburyport, Mass., to a fine of
one thousand dollars and imprisonment for five years. He served out his
term of imprisonment, but he could not pay his fine, because he had no
money and no way of getting any. Consequently he was still held for the
fine which he was unable to pay. Some people of influence interested
themselves in the case, and a congressman from eastern Massachusetts,
who stood very near to the President, laid the facts before him with
the request for a pardon. He was indeed much moved by the appeal, but
he gave his decision in substantially the following words: "My friend,
this appeal is very touching to my feelings, and no one knows my
weakness better than you. I am, if possible to be, too easily moved by
appeals for mercy; and I must say that if this man had been guilty of
the foulest murder that the arm of man could perpetrate, I might
forgive him on such an appeal. But the man who could go to Africa, and
rob her of her children, and then sell them into interminable bondage,
with no other motive than that which is furnished by dollars and cents,
is so much worse than the most depraved murderer that he can never
receive pardon at my hand. No, sir; he may stay in jail forever before
he shall have liberty by any act of mine."
It was his magnanimity that constructed his cabinet. Hardly another man
in the world would have failed to dismiss summarily both Seward and
Chase. But, thanks to his magnanimous forbearance, Seward became not
only useful to the country, but devotedly loyal to his chief. After
Chase's voluntary retirement Lincoln appointed him Chief Justice. To
his credit be it said that he adorned the judiciary, but he never did
appreciate the man who saved him from oblivion, not to say disgrace. Up
to the year 1862, his only personal knowledge of Stanton was such as to
rouse only memories of indignation, but when he believed that Stanton
would make a good Secretary of War he did not hesitate to appoint him.
It is safe to say that this appointment gave Stanton the greatest
surprise of his life.
He was always ready to set aside his preference, or to do the expedient
thing when no moral principle was involved. When such a principle was
involved he was ready to stand alone against the world. He was no
coward. In early youth he championed the cause of temperance in a
community where the use of liquors was almost universal. In the
Illinois legislature and in congress he expressed his repugnance to the
whole institution of slavery, though this expression could do him no
possible good, while it might do him harm. When, he was a lawyer, he
was almost the only lawyer of ability who did not dread the odium sure
to attach to those who befriended negroes.
When in the White House, he stood out almost alone against the clamors
of his constituents and directed the release of Mason and Slidell.
Personally he was a clean man. The masculine vices were abhorrent to
him. He was not profane. He was not vulgar. He was as far removed from
suspicion as Caesar could have demanded of his wife. He was not given
to drink. When a young man he could not be tricked into swallowing
whisky. At the close of the war, a barrel of whisky was sent him from
some cellar in Richmond, as a souvenir of the fall of the city, but he
declined to receive it. Wine was served at the table of the White House
in deference to foreign guests who did not know, and could not be
taught, how to dine without it. As a matter of courtesy he went through
the form of touching the glass to his lips, but he never drank. How
widely his life was separated from many of his associates! The
atmosphere of the White House has been sweeter and purer ever since he
occupied it, and this is largely due to the influence of his
incorruptible purity.
In the matter of religion, he did not wear his heart on his sleeve, and
some of his friends have refused to believe that he was religious. It
is true that he was not a church member, but there were special reasons
for this. The church with which he was naturally affiliated was the
Presbyterian. The most eloquent preacher of that denomination was the
Reverend Dr. Palmer of New Orleans, who was an aggressive champion of
slavery as a divine institution. His teachings were feebly echoed in
thousands of other pulpits. Now Lincoln abhorred slavery. He
incorporated human freedom into his religion. The one point on which he
insisted all his life was that "slavery is wrong!" It may therefore be
seen that the church did not give him a cordial invitation. If this
needs any proof, that proof is found in the fact that the pastors in
Springfield voted almost unanimously against him. Even Peter Cartwright
had denounced him as an atheist.
The marvel is that this did not embitter him against the church. But
all his life long he kept up such bonds of sympathy with the church as
were possible. He bore with the faults of the church and of ministers
with that patience which made his whole character so remarkably
genuine. He was a constant attendant at the services, he was favorable
to all the legitimate work of the church, and he was exceptionally kind
to ministers, though they were often a sore trial to him.
In childhood he would not rest until a clergyman had traveled many
miles through the forests to preach a memorial discourse over the grave
of his mother. When his father was ill he wrote a letter of religious
consolation intended for him: "Tell him to remember to call upon and
confide in our great and good and merciful Maker, who will not turn
away from him in any extremity. He notes the fall of a sparrow, and
numbers the hairs of our heads, and He will not forget the dying man
who puts his trust in Him."
Hugh McCulloch, in a personal letter to the author, January 28, 1889,
wrote: "He was, as far as I could judge, a pure man, and 'in spirit and
temper' a Christian." His pastor, Dr. Gurley, regarded him as a
Christian. Other clergymen who were acquainted with him did so.
J. G. Holland has preserved the following incident:
Colonel Loomis, who was commandant of Fort Columbus, Governor's Island,
in New York Harbor, reached the age at which by law he should be put on
the retired list. He was a very religious man, and his influence was so
marked that the chaplain and some others, determined to appeal to the
President to have him continued at the post. The Reverend Dr. Duryea of
Brooklyn was sent to Washington to prefer the request. "What does the
clergyman know of military matters?" inquired the President. "Nothing,"
was the reply. "It is desired to retain Colonel Loomis solely for the
sake of his Christian influence. He sustains religious exercises at the
fort, leads a prayer-meeting, and teaches a Bible class in the Sunday
School." "That is the highest possible recommendation," replied the
President. He approved the request, and the Christian officer was
retained there until imperative military duty called him elsewhere.
The religious strain that runs through his papers and addresses cannot
be overlooked. But there are two that deserve special mention. The
first is the "Sunday Order," which is as follows:
"The importance for man and beast of the prescribed weekly rest, the
sacred rights of Christian soldiers and sailors, a becoming deference
to the best sentiment of a Christian people, and a due regard for the
Divine will, demand that Sunday labor in the army and navy be reduced
to the measure of strict necessity. The discipline and character of the
national forces should not suffer, nor the cause they defend be
imperiled, by the profanation of the day or the name of the Most High."
The other is his thanksgiving proclamation. He it was who nationalized
this festival which had previously been local and irregular. His
successors in office have done well to follow his example in the
matter. Every November, when the entire population turns from daily
toil to an hour of thanksgiving, they should not forget that they are
thereby acting on his recommendation, and in doing this they are
strengthening the best possible monument to the grand, good man whom
the Most High mercifully gave to this country in the time of her direst
need.
"He was a _man_; take him for all in all
I shall not look upon his like again."