Rensselaer Union, Volume 1, Number 49, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 September 1869 — A True Story of President Lincoln [ARTICLE]

A True Story of President Lincoln

Dr ring the summer of the most disastrous and doubtful year of the late American -war, the Colonel of a New Hampshire Regiment lay for some weeks extremely ill of camp fever, near Hampton Roads, in Virginia. Hearing of his critical condition, his wife left her Northern home, and, after much difficulty, made her way to his liedside. Her cheerful presence and careftil nursing so far restored ]iim, that’ he was in a short time able to be transferred to Washington. In the Potomac River, the steamer in which the invalid officer, Colonel Scott, and his wife had taken passage, was sunk, in a collision with a larger vessel, in the night time. The crew and nearly all the soldiers on board were rescued, or saved themselves ; but amid the horrible confusion of the scene, Colonel Scott became separated from his wife, and she was lost. The Colonel was picked up in the water by the crew of the larger steamer, and under his direction every effort was made to discover his wife, or rather her body, for all hope of finding her alive was soon abandoned. The sad search was fruitless; it was resumed in tlie morning, the people along the shore, humane Confederates, lending their aid. Hut the grey, sullen river refused to give up its dead, and the young officer, half frantic with grief, was compelled to go on to Washington. Within a week, however, he received word from below that the body of the lady had b'Sen washed on "shore—that those’good country people, generous foes, had secured it, cared for it, and were keeping it for him. It happened that just at that time itnEerative orders were issued from the War 'epartment, prohibiting all intercourse with the Peninsula—a necessary precaution against the premature disclosure of important military plans. So it was with some misgivings that Colonel Scott applied to Mr. Secretary Stanton for leave to return to Virginia, on his melancholy duty. “Impossible, Colonel," replied Mr. Stanton, firmly ; “ no one can have leave to go down the river, at this time, on any private mission whatever. Our present exigencies demand the most stringent regulations, and I hope I need not say to you that no merely personal considerations should be allowed to interfere with great national interests. Your case is a sad one; but this is a critical, perilous, cruel time. ‘ The dead must bury the dead.’ ” The Colonel would have entreated, but the busy Secretary; cut him short witli another ’ “ impo'ssible,” from which there was absolutely no appeal. He went forth from the presence, and returned to his hotel, quite overwhelmed.. Fortunately, he was that afternoon visited by a friend, to whom he told the story of his unsuccessful application and sad perplexity, and who immediately exclaimed, “ Why not apply to the President ?” The Colonel had but little hope, but acknowledging that the plan was worth trying, drove with his friend to the White House. They were too late. It was Saturday evening, and Mr. Lincoln had gone to spend Sunday at Soldier’s Rest, Ids summer retre it. This was but a few miles from tosm, and the Colonel’s indomitable irtand imposed that they should follow ki® mF, a id they went. TiKejk as then a popular belief that all viiDiq ;ed, the troubled, and suffering iCEldfxidl t refuge in “ Father asp.’xiucq bosom; a belief that was not far iut£of the way. Yet there were times wher,“,ov trburdened, wearied, tortured, the patrial ch longed to clear that asylum of Its fork rn inmates, to bolt and bar and double-loci it against the world; times when life became too hard and perplexing for his gc nial, honest nature, too serious and tragic and rascally a thing by half. It£happcned, unluckily, that the poor Colonel and his friend found the President In one of his most despondent and disgusted moods. He w r as in his little private parlor, alone in the gloaming. He was lounging loosely in a large rocking-chair, jutting over it in all directions. His slippered feet were exalted, his rough head was thrown back, his long throat bare—he was in his shirt-sleeves! Yes, dear fastidious English reader, it genuine Yankee abandon,-—make the most of itT He turned upon his visitors a look of almost savage inquiry. There was, indeed, in his usually pleasant eyes, a w’ild, angry gleam; a something like the glare of a worried animal at bay. , Colonel Scott proceeded very modestly to tell his story; but the President interrupted him, to say brusquely, “Go to Stanton; this is his business." “ I have been to him, Mr. President, and he will do nothing for me." “You have been to him, and got your answer, and still presume to come to me! Am I to have no rest? no privacy? Must Ibe dogged to my last fastnesses and worried to death by inches? Mr. Stanton has done just right. He knows what he is about Your demands are unreasonable, sir.” . - “ Rut, Mr. Lincoln, I thought you would feel for me.” “ Fed for you! Good God! I have to feel for five hundred thousand, more unfortunate than you. We are at war, sir: don’t you know we are at war ? Sorrow is the lot of all; bear your share like a man and a soldier.” “ I try to, Mr. President, but it seems hard. My devoted wife lost her life for coming to nurse me, in my sickness, and I cannot even take her body home to my children.” , “Well, she ought not to have come down to the army. She should have stayed I at home. That is the place for women. ! But if they teiS go tearing about the country, in such times as these, and running into all sorts of danger, they must take the consequences! Not but that lam sorry for you, Colonel As for your wife, she’s at rest, and I wish I were." Saying this, the President leaned back wearily in his chair, and closed his eyes, I not noticing, except by a slight wave of his hand, the departure of his visitors. I am not ashamed to confess that my 1 hero toaaad rsatleMly that sight, upon a

Sillow wet with manly tears, that ho was esperate and rcacntftil, utterly unresigned to the decrees of Providence and the War Department, and that he thought Abraham Lincoln as hard as he was ugly, and iia inhumane as he was ungainly. Toward morning he fell asleep, and slept lute. Before he was hilly dressed, there came a quick knock at the door of his chamber, and he opened to President Lincoln! The good man came forward, pale and eager, tears glistening in his eyes, and grasped the Colonel’s hand, saying, “I treated you brutally last night. I ask your pardon. I was utterly tired out, badgered to death. I generally become about as savage as a wild cat by Saturday night, drained dry of tlie ‘ milk of human kind ncss.’ I must have seemed to you the very gorilla the rebels paint me. I was sorry enbugh for it, when you were gone. I could not deep a moment kut night, so I <hmight I’d drive into town, in the cool of thbsmorning, and make it all right. Fortunately, I iiad little difficulty in finding “'nnslsvery good of you, Mr. Presidents said the Colonel, deeply moved. “Bo it isn’t; but that was very bud of mhflast night. I never should have forgiven myself, if I had let that piece of ugly work stand. That was a noble wife of vcmrs, Colonel 1 You are a happy man to have had such a noble woman to love you; anil you must be a good fellow, or such a woman would never have risked so much for yon. And what grand women there are in these times, Colonel; What angels of devotion and mercy, and how brave and plucky!—going everywhere at the call of duty, facing every danger! I tell you, if it were not for the women, we should go to the devil, and should deserve to. They are tlie salvation of the nation. Now, come, Colonel; my carriage is at the door. I’ll drive you to the War Department, and we’ll sec Stanton about the matter?’

Even at that early hour they found the Secretary at his post. The President pleaded the case of Colonel Scott, and not only requested that leave of absence should be given him, but that a steamer should be sent down the river, expressly to bring up the body of liis wife. “ Humanity, Mr. Stanton, said tlie President, his homely face transfigured with the glow of earnest, tender feeling, “ humanity should overrule considerations of policy, and even military necessity, in matters like this.” The Secretary was touched, and he said something of his regret at not having felt himself at liberty to grant Colonel Scott’s request in the first-place. “No, no Mr. Stanton,” said the President, “you did right in adhering to your own rules; you are the right man for this place; if wc had such a soft-hearted old fool as I here, there would be no rules or regulations that the army nr the country could depend upon. But this is a peculiar case. Only think of that poor woman 1” Of course the “ impossible ” was accomplished. To the surprise of the Colonel, tlie President insisted on driving him to the navy yard, to see tliat the Secretary’s order was carried out immediately ; seeming to have a nervous fear that some obstacle might be thrown in the way of the pious expedition. He waited at the landing till all was ready, then charged the officers of the steamer to give every attention and assistance to his “ friend, Colonel Scott.” With him he shook hands warmly at parting, saying, “ God bless you, my dear fellow 1 1 hope you will have no more trouble in this sad affair—and, Colonel, try to forget last night.” Away up in a New Hampshire churchyard there is a certain grave carefully watched and tended by faithful love. But every April time the violets on that mound speak not alone of the womanly sweetness and devotion of her who sleeps below—they are tender and tearful with the memory of themurdered President.— All the Year Found,