Legal business took me to Washington about four months after Lincoln’s first inauguration and I called at the White House, in company with Mr. Fenton. Although a score of men were present in the different parts of the large room overlooking the South lot, Mr. Lincoln was walking the floor in a preoccupied manner, evidently deeply distressed.
The Federal troops had just been defeated at Big Bethel by a much smaller force under Magruder, a crushing blow for the Union arms.
I suggested to Mr. Fenton that we should retire, as the visit seemed inopportune, but the President’s grave face showed signs of recognition when he saw Mr. Fenton. He stopped, and as we approached him, he said:
“The storm is upon us; it will be much worse before it is better. I suppose there was a divine purpose in thrusting this terrible responsibility upon me, and I can only hope for more than human guidance. I am only a mortal in the hands of destiny. I am ready for the trial and shall do my best, because I know I am acting for the right.”
He did not mention the defeat that had occurred only two days before, but it was evident that he comprehended fully the desperate situation that confronted the Federal Government.
Big Bethel was within ten miles of Fortress Monroe, and I subsequently learned from a member of the Cabinet that the utmost anxiety existed regarding the safety of that post. If treachery existed among its officers, the secret has been kept until this day, but one can understand the agonizing suspense of that hour. Had the great fortress at Old Point Comfort fallen into the hands of the Confederacy, the early part of the war would necessarily have been fought upon entirely different lines.
Mr. Lincoln possessed no knowledge of the art of war, but he had sufficient intuitive foresight to comprehend what the loss of control of the entrance to Chesapeake Bay and the mouth of the James River would mean. Although he said so little, this meeting and the few words he used were most impressive, and are stamped deep upon my memory.
As I have just remarked, military and naval technicalities did not matter much to Lincoln, and he was accustomed to brush them aside in his familiar, humorous way. When Mr. Bushnell brought to Washington the plans for the Monitor, the recent invention of Mr. Ericsson, which became famous in the sea-fight with the rebel Merrimac, most of the naval officers expressed doubts as to the efficiency of the Monitor in a naval fight. Mr. Lincoln’s opinion was asked. He said he knew little about ships, but he “did understand a flat-boat, and this invention was flat enough.”
Later, at a meeting of the Army board, when asked by Admiral Smith what he thought of the Monitor, he remarked, with his most quizzical look, “Well, I feel a good deal about it as a fat girl did when she put her foot in her stocking; she thought there was something in it.”
All present laughed at this drollery, but it was the way Lincoln sometimes took of conveying a really serious thought.