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does?'” Then, after a good laugh, he plainly enough intimated that he always thought it better not to get entangled in any such way.
One of “ Lincoln's jokes,” current in Boston and elsewhere a generation ago, was to the effect that “ Sumner once told a story.” Of course it was doubted by many judicious persons whether so remarkable a statement ever emanated from the White House; but the legend lived and grew. Mrs. Julia Ward Howe has given it historical shape, as follows: “He [Lincoln] said to Governor Andrew, apropos of I know not what, ' I once heerd George Sumner tell a story.' It seems permissible, if not obligatory, to say in this connection that Lincoln was not in the habit of mispronouncing words of ordinary use in conversation, or of blundering as to names. He was so accustomed to use both names in speaking of Charles Sumner that the alleged mistake is simply incredible.
M. Laugel, the French visitant who went with Mr. Sumner to see “St. Louis under the Oak” (as elsewhere related), sat with the President and the Senator at a representation of King Lear in 1864, and said of the occasion in a book published the next year:
I was, as may be supposed, more occupied with the President than with the performance. He listened attentively, though he knew the play by heart, following all its incidents with the greatest interest, and talking with Mr. Sumner and myself only between the acts. His son “ Tad” was leaning on him nearly all the time, and the laughing or astonished face of the lad was often pressed to his broad chest. One remark of Lincoln was to this effect: “ It matters little to me whether Shakespeare is acted well or ill; with a drama of his the thought suffices."
“Behind the darkest cloud there is always sunshine," was a ready expression of Lincoln's in time of special trouble — as in the days following the battle at Fredericksburg. It will pass away
was another maxim which came to bear a substantial part in his philosophy of life. In that exact form it had not yet come within his ken, apparently, when he wrote (February 25, 1842) to his friend, Joshua Speed: “Let me urge you to remember in the depths and even agony of despondency that very shortly you are to feel well again.” And a month later: “If your spirits flag down and leave you miserable, don't fail to remember they cannot remain so." These seem but variations on the same theme, which we find first distinctly announced — with its source — in his address at Milwaukee, in September, 1859, as follows: “ It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him with the words: 'And this, too, shall pass away.' Significant and pathetic withal is the fact that to him there was never but the one use of this philosophic panacea, namely, as a relief from despondency tending to despair.
Of Lincoln's visit to Richmond on the day after its occupation by General Godfrey Weitzel, some memorable incidents were furnished by the latter's brother, Colonel Lewis Weitzel. The General's headquarters were in the building used as the Confederate "capitol," and the President, accompanied by several officers, visited the building. On reaching the “Cabinet room,"
General Weitzel said: “Mr. President, this is the chair which has been so long occupied by Jefferson Davis ”~ pulling it back from the table. The President's face “ took an extra look of care and melancholy. He looked at the chair for a moment, and slowly approached and wearily sat down. It was an hour of exultation with us soldiers," said the Colonel. “We felt that the war was ended, and we knew that all over the North bells were pealing, cannon booming, and the people were delirious with joy over the progpect of peace. I looked to see the President manifest some spirit of triumph; but his great head fell into his broad hands, and a sigh that seemed to come from the soul of a nation escaped his lips and saddened every man present. His mind seemed to be traveling back through the dark years of the war, and he was counting the cost in treasure, life, and blood that made it possible for him to sit there. As he rose without a word and left the room slowly and sadly, tears came to the eyes of every man present, and we soldiers realized that we had not done all the work or made all the sacrifices."
A short while before the President started to visit the army around Petersburg and Richmond, the writer was alone with him in the evening for a time in his office at the White House an occasion forever memorable as a last interview. Never before had he seemed So careworn and weary.
The burdens of state still pressed heavily upon him; the capture of Richmond still lingered; while his neglect of nourishing diet and irregularity of sleep were having their inevitable effect. He was, nevertheless, as kindly in manner as ever, and
even cheerful in general tone. The image of that vanishing presence survives, but few of the words spoken are recalled, save the last, as his visitor rose to go: “ Sit down and wait here a little until I am gone. I must have rest. There are still persons outside the door; I hear their voices now." He then hastily retired by the private way that had recently been constructed in the rear of the ante-room. The
The “ voices " he either imagined or his hearing must have become preternaturally acute.
More than a third of a century after the entombment at Oak Ridge Cemetery, the Illinois Legislature appropriated one hundred thousand dollars for the reconstruction of the Lincoln monument, the foundations of which appeared to be insecure. The remains of the deceased President and of those of his family laid at his side were temporarily removed to another vault on the ioth of March, 1900, awaiting their permanent place under the renewed and grander monument when completed. Without public ceremony, and purposely avoiding the attendance of a crowd, the transfer was made in the presence of State and other officials on the 24th of April, 1901. There, side by side in the new vault beneath a marble sarcophagus, were laid the remains of Abraham Lincoln, his wife, their three sons who died young, and their only grandson, who bore his grandfather's name. Eloquent eulogy would rather have profaned than honored the occasion; and no formal epitaph would befit the towering monument on which is inscribed the name of LINCOLN.
Arizona, II., 168.
258, 296; secedes, 298; II., 225.
Lincoln, I., 153,
mestic life, I., 76.
Convention, I., 216; 219; notifies
Lincoln of nomination, 225.
didate for Congress, 77, 78; elected
Ball's Bluff, 371;
Abell, Mr. and Mrs. Bennett, I., 29, 40.
missioner, I., 251, 252.
for Vice-Presidency, I., 94, 99, 258;
tions, 341, 343; II., 159, 160, 194, 256.
Fillmore and Donelson, 144, 200.
ton, 251; occupies Fort Sumter, 251;
tucky, 356; relleved, 356.
and Sumner, I., 128; coalition suc-
cessful in 1855, 139.
145; 1860, 227; 1864, II., 260-264.
chusetts, I., 300, 301.
I., 143, 200; Major-General, 321; suc-