[LINCOLN LAID HIS HAND ON BANNISTER’S KNEE.]
“My friend,” he said, “you look at but one aspect of the case. I believe I view it as a whole. You are sincere in your belief. I concede that. The great body of your brethren in the South are sincere. We are both fighting for what we believe to be the right. We both pray to the same God for the success of our armies. We could not do that if we were not honest with ourselves. But I believe I have the larger vision. I believe I see more clearly what will bring about the largest measure of prosperity for all of us. I believe in the Union as it was. I want to preserve it. I want to bring back into it all those states, all those citizens who are willfully and mistakenly trying to leave it, and to destroy it. All that I have done, I have done with that end in view. All that I shall do, I shall do with that end in view. If I have proclaimed emancipation for the slaves, that was the purpose of it. If we must prosecute this war until their last soldier, or ours, is lying dead on the battle-field, that will be the purpose of it. I have declared amnesty to every man in rebellion, save the leaders of the insurrection, who will come back to us and take the oath of allegiance. The purpose of the declaration is to save, to restore, to build up, to make bigger and better and stronger the Union which has been and ought to be more to us and dearer to us than any man or body of men that the nation can produce. That is my one mission, my one purpose, my one hope, and, under God, my one determination to the end.”
Into the gaunt, haggard, ashen face came, as he talked, the light of the high purpose that filled his soul. To Rhett Bannister, looking on him, listening in breathless suspense, it seemed almost as though, like the angel at the sepulchre, “his countenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow.” The mighty and homely spirit that had dominated great minds in this tremendous conflict, and bent them to its will, had already laid its spell on the mind of this one-time hater of the nation’s chief. Abraham Lincoln stood revealed before him now, not as the ambitious tyrant, the crafty plotter, the traitor to his kind, but as the one man of greatest skill, of wisest thought, of tenderest heart, of largest soul, whom the troublous times had brought forth.
In the silence that followed Lincoln’s words, as Bannister sat mute and thrilled, he felt that every heart-beat in his breast was hammering down the last barrier that stood between him and the personality of the great President. Henceforth, no matter how divergent their views, their logic, their ways to conclusions, in the essence of a large patriotism and a great humanity their souls had touched, and they were one.
At length Bannister spoke. It was his last word, his final protest, his weak clutch at the floating, fading straw.
“But the pride of the South, Mr. President; the pride of the South!”
Lincoln sat back and crossed his legs, and over his face there came a reminiscent smile.
“Up in Sangamon County,” he said, “when I lived there, I knew a man by the name of Seth Mills. He owned a spring in common with his neighbor Sam Lewis. But they couldn’t agree on the amount of water each should have, nor how much could be carried away by trough; and their quarrel over the spring led to a fight and a lawsuit. Well, when I went up to Springfield, the controversy was still on, but Seth was getting a good bit the worst of it. One day he came up to Springfield to see me, and when he came into my office I said to myself: ‘The spring war has reached an acute stage.’ But Seth sat down and said: ‘Abe, I’ve decided to be generous to Sam. He’s licked me in the courts of Sangamon County, but I could take the case up to the Supreme Court of the United States and make him a lot o’ trouble and cost. But I ain’t goin’ to do it. I’m goin’ to swaller my pride an’ be liberal with him. Now I’ve proposed to Sam that he chip in an’ we’ll build the spring bigger an’ deeper, an’ wall it up, an’ put in a pipe big enough to run water to both our houses. It’ll cost two or three dollars, but I believe it’s wuth it. An’ Sam has yielded the p’int and accepted the offer.’”