Abraham Lincoln

by William Eleroy Curtis

Captain Knight, who was in charge of the guard at the War Department, said, "Mr. Lincoln's favorite time for visiting the War Department was between eleven and twelve o'clock at night. His tall, ungainly form wrapped in an old gray shawl, wearing usually a shockingly bad hat, and carrying a worse umbrella, came up the steps into the building. Secretary Stanton, who knew Mr. Lincoln's midnight habits, gave a standing order that, although Mr. Lincoln might come from the White House alone (and he seldom came in any other way), he should never be permitted to return alone, but should be escorted by a file of four soldiers and a non-commissioned officer.

"On the way to the White House, Mr. Lincoln would converse with us on various topics. I remember one night, when it was raining very hard, as he saw us at the door, ready to escort him, he addressed us in these words: 'Don't come out in this storm with me to-night, boys; I have my umbrella, and can get home safely without you.'

"'But,' I replied, 'Mr. President, we have positive orders from Mr. Stanton not to allow you to return alone, and you know we dare not disobey his orders.'

"'No,' replied Mr. Lincoln, 'I suppose not; for if Mr. Stanton should learn that you had let me return alone, he would have you court-martialed and shot inside of twenty-four hours.'

"I was detailed upon one occasion to escort the President to the Soldiers' Home," continued Captain Knight. "As we approached the front gate, I noticed what seemed to be a young man groping his way, as if he were blind, across the road. Hearing the carriage and horses approaching, he became frightened, and walked in the direction of the approaching danger. Mr. Lincoln quickly observed this, and shouted to the coachman to rein in his horses, which he did as they were about to run over the unfortunate youth. He had been shot through the left side of the upper part of the face, and the ball, passing from one side to the other, had put out both his eyes. He could not have been over sixteen or seventeen years of age, and, aside from his blindness, he had a very beautiful face. Mr. Lincoln extended his hand to him, and while he held it he asked him, with a voice trembling with emotion, his name, his regiment, and where he lived. The young man answered these questions and stated that he lived in Michigan; and then Mr. Lincoln made himself known to the blind soldier, and with a look that was a benediction in itself, spoke to him a few words of sympathy and bade him good-by. The following day after his interview with the President he received a commission as a first lieutenant in the regular army of the United States, accompanied by an order of retirement upon full pay; and, if he is living to-day, he is doubtless drawing the salary of a first lieutenant in the United States army on the retired list."

The most important battle of the war was fought at the polls in the Northern States in November, 1864, and from the hour that the result was announced the Southern Confederacy was doomed. It lost the confidence and respect of the people within its own jurisdiction and of the nations of Europe. Several attempts were made by the Southern leaders to open negotiations for peace, but President Lincoln gave them plainly to understand that he could not recognize the Confederacy as anything but a rebellion against the government. Then General Lee undertook "to meet General Grant with the hope that ... it may be found practicable to submit the subjects of controversy ... to a convention," etc. Grant immediately wired Lee's letter to Mr. Stanton, who received it at the Capitol on the last night of the session of Congress, where the President, attended by his Cabinet, had gone, as usual, to sign bills. Having read the telegram, Mr. Stanton handed it to the President without comment. By this time Lincoln felt himself completely master of the situation. He knew the people were behind him and would approve whatever he thought best for the welfare of the country. He had full confidence in the commanders of his armies and knew that they were crowding the Confederates into the last ditch. Therefore, for the first time since the beginning of the war, he could act promptly upon his individual judgment. Without consulting any one, he wrote the following despatch, which, without a word, he passed over the table for Stanton to sign and send:

"The President directs me to say that he wishes you to have no conference with General Lee, unless it be for capitulation of General Lee's army or on some minor or purely military matter. He instructs me to say that you are not to decide, discuss, or confer upon any political questions. Such questions the President holds in his own hand and will submit them to no military conferences or conventions. Meanwhile you are to press to the utmost your military advantages."

This little despatch crushed the last hope of the Confederate authorities; but, before the end could come, Lee resolved to make one more desperate attempt to escape from the toils in which he was involved. His assault was made with great spirit on March 25, and from that day until April 7 there was fighting all along the line. In the mean time Lincoln went down to City Point, where Grant had his head-quarters, on the James River a few miles below Richmond, and there had a conference with the three great heroes of the war, Sherman having come from North Carolina and Sheridan from the other side of Richmond. It was a remarkable meeting,—the first and last time these four men were ever together.

After the conference, at which Lincoln expressed his sympathy with the desperate situation in which the Confederates were placed, Grant sent a note through the lines to Lee, saying, "The results of the last week must have convinced you of the hopelessness of further resistance," and added that he regarded it a duty "to shift from myself the responsibility of any further effusion of blood" by asking Lee's surrender. Lee replied that he reciprocated the desire to avoid further bloodshed, and asked for terms. Grant answered that there was only one condition, that the officers and men surrendered should be disqualified from taking up arms again. Lee replied the next day that he did not think the emergency had arisen for the surrender of his army, but offered to meet Grant at ten o'clock the next morning on the old stage line to Richmond between the pickets of the two armies. Grant answered that "the terms upon which peace can be had are well understood. By the South laying down their arms they will hasten that most desirable event, save thousands of human lives and hundreds of millions of property." Lee had hoped to arrest the movement of the Union troops by entering into negotiations, but found that Grant understood his purpose and was drawing more closely around him, so he accepted the inevitable and asked an interview for the surrender of his army.

The meeting at the McLean mansion at Appomattox has been too often described to require reference in these pages, except to call attention to the fact that General Grant's letter accepting the surrender of Lee's army was in direct violation of the amnesty proclamation of December 8, 1863, and President Lincoln's order sent from the Capital on the night of March 3. No one knows whether Lincoln ever called his attention to that fact. There is no record of a reprimand or even a comment from the President, and it is probable that his joy and gratitude were so overwhelming that he did not even question the terms. General Grant, however, in his "Memoirs," says that he was overcome by feelings of sympathy for his heroic antagonist, and that the closing sentence of his letter, which practically pardoned the entire army, was written without a thought of its far-reaching significance.