An "out-of-character" moment for Lincoln?

[David Lockmiller]

(03-17-2013 04:34 AM)RJNorton Wrote:  I think I mentioned this story many months ago, but in a different context. I think it shows Lincoln's honesty with himself. Sure, saving an animal was wonderful for the animal, but was that really the prime motive? Was the most pressing motive actually so the person takes a pain out of their own mind? I think Lincoln's honesty in this regard is what strikes me the most.

I have no idea of the veracity or source of this story. Maybe it happened; maybe it didn't. It certainly could be apocryphal. But the story's source is Abraham Lincoln's Stories and Speeches by J. B. McClure.

"An amusing incident occurred in connection with 'riding the circuit,' which gives a pleasant glimpse into the good lawyer's heart. He was riding by a deep slough, in which, to his exceeding pain, he saw a pig struggling, and with such faint efforts that it was evident that he could not extricate himself from the mud. Mr. Lincoln looked at the pig and the mud which enveloped him, and then looked at some new clothes with which he had but a short time before enveloped himself. Deciding against the claims of the pig, he rode on, but he could not get rid of the vision of the poor brute, and, at last, after riding two miles, he turned back, determined to rescue the animal at the expense of his new clothes. Arrived at the spot, he tied his horse, and coolly went to work to build of old rails a passage to the bottom of the hole. Descending on these rails, he seized the pig and dragged him out, but not without serious damage to the clothes he wore. Washing his hands in the nearest brook, and wiping them on on the grass, he mounted his gig and rode along. He then fell to examining the motive that sent him back to the release of the pig. At the first thought, it seemed to be pure benevolence, but, at length, he came to the conclusion that it was selfishness, for he certainly went to the pig's relief in order (as he said to the friend to whom he related the incident) to "take a pain out of his mind." This is certainly a new view of the nature of sympathy, and one which it will be well for the casuist to examine."

I do not understand why this story of Lincoln rescuing a pig mired in mud, that would have died without Lincoln's assistance, is placed under the caption heading of "An 'out-of-character' moment for Lincoln." I believe that such stories of empathy for the plight of animals is "in character" for Lincoln. I will forego the repetition of the "kittens in the telegraph office" story which took place at City Point near the end of the Civil War, although it is another story illustrative of Lincoln's kindness to animals in distress.

I wish to add two more stories on the subject from one of my favorite Lincoln books -- "Lincoln Talks, a Biography in Anecdote" by Emanuel Hertz. One story is directly on point; the second story has a tangential "animal kindness" reference.

1) We had passed through a thicket of wild plum and crab trees, and stopped to water our horses, when Hardin came up alone. "Where is Lincoln?" we all inquired. "Oh," replied he, "when I saw him last he had caught two young birds which the wind had blown out of their nest, and he has been hunting for the nest so as to put them back." In a short time Lincoln came up, having found the nest. The party laughed at him but he said: "I could not have slept if I had not restored those little birds to their mother." -- Joshua F. Speed (page 95)

2) Some of Mr. Lincoln's intimate friends once called his attention to a certain member of his Cabinet who was quietly working to secure a nomination for the Presidencey, although knowing that Mr. Lincoln was to be a candidate for re-election. His friends insisted that the Cabinet officer ought to be made to give up his Presidential aspirations or be removed from office. The situation reminded Mr. Lincoln of a story.

"My brother and I," he said, "were once plowing corn, I driving the horse and he holding the plow. The horse was lazy, but on one occasion he rushed across the field so that I, with my long legs, could scarcely keep pace with him. On reaching the end of the furrow, I found an enormous chin-fly fastened upon him, and knocked him off. My brother asked me what I did that for. I told him I didn't want the old horse bitten in that way. 'Why,' said my brother, 'that's all that made him go."

"Now," said Mr. Lincoln, "if Mr. -- has a Presidential chin-fly biting him, I'm not going to knock him off, if it will only make his department go."
-- Henry J. Raymond (page 226)