II. TYPICAL INCIDENTS FROM AMONG MOMENTOUS SCENES
Lincoln’s many forms of kindness are exemplified in such a continuous series of acts, during his period of almost unlimited political power, that only a few typical instances need to be described.
One day a woman got past the doorkeeper and thrust herself into his presence. Her husband was captured and condemned to be shot. He was one of the hated Mosby guerillas. She had come to beg for his pardon. She weepingly poured out the story of his kindness, his love for his family and that they could hardly live without him. She said that she was a Northern woman, that she would take him to their home, and, on his parole and her promise, he should never again do harm to his country. She had papers also setting forth these facts. Lincoln examined them and decided to parole the husband in her care.
At hearing this, the woman sobbed with joy as if her heart would burst with gratitude.
“My dear woman,” said Lincoln, listening to her hysterical sobs, “if I had known it would make you feel so bad as this, I would never have pardoned him.”
“You do not understand me,” she cried, fearful that he might reverse his decision.
“Yes, I do,” he replied, “but if you do not go away at once I shall soon be crying with you.”
The Judge Advocate General was one day reviewing death sentences with Lincoln when they came to one where a young soldier was to be shot for “cowardice in the face of the enemy.” He had hid behind a stump during battle.
Lincoln drew out the paper and said, “This one I’ll have to put with my bunch of leg cases.”
“‘Leg cases,’” said Judge Holt; “what do you mean by ‘leg cases?’”
“Do you see that bunch of papers in yonder pigeon-hole?” he replied. “Well, they are cases marked ‘Cowardice in the face of the enemy.’ I call them, for short, my leg cases. I’ll put it up to you for judgment: if Almighty God gives a boy a cowardly pair of legs, how can he help their running away with him.”
One of the instances, which was far from being either desertion or “Cowardice in the face of the enemy,” came unexpectedly before him. A little woman of poverty-stricken clothing and pinched features, after several days trying, at last succeeded in getting through the press of people waiting to see Lincoln, and told him that her only son was about to be shot for desertion. His regiment had come by near their home, and, being refused leave of absence, he had gone without permission to see her. He had returned to his regiment but had been arrested, tried and ordered shot, and there was only one more day. She did not know where he was now confined.
Lincoln examined the papers verifying her statements. He hastily arose from his chair, seized the woman by the hand, and, leaving the offices without a word, hastened over to the Secretary of War.
Stanton, weary with Lincoln’s constant interference against what the War Secretary believed to be necessary discipline, begged Lincoln to leave that matter to him.
But Lincoln insisted. He gave directions that immediate messages be sent to every army headquarters till the boy be found and the execution stayed for his further orders.
It was in a similar instance where mercy had been given to a New England mother that she came out from the interview silent, as if wrapped in thought.
Some friend interrupted her to know what had so impressed her.
“I have always been told,” she said, “that Lincoln is one of the ugliest of men. I now know that to be a lie. He is one of the handsomest men I ever saw.”
In another case, when Lincoln had relieved the distress of an old man for his only son, the orders were that the soldier should not be executed until further orders from Lincoln.
“But that is not pardon, is it?” said the fearing petitioner.
“Well, it’s just as good,” replied Lincoln. “He will be older than Methuselah before I order his execution. Killing a man doesn’t make him any better or wipe out the act.”