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.