"Lincoln" legal mistake

[David Lockmiller]

The two questions from my previous posting from President Lincoln's interview with Congressman Deming are:

1) If President Lincoln had ever despaired of the country?

President Lincoln's answer: "When the Peninsula campaign terminated suddenly at Harrison's Landing," rejoined Mr. Lincoln, "I was as nearly inconsolable as I could be and live." (The Inner Life of Abraham Lincoln, page 219.)

My reference in my previous posting to another source of information on the answer to this question has as its source General Lew Wallace (as recounted in the book by Emanuel Hertz, Lincoln Talks, a Biography in Anecdote at pages 463-64):

As I was ushered in I saw at the further end of the long room the tall form of Lincoln leaning against a window. He waved his hand, indicating that I was to take the women to a sofa, and then by another wave of the hand he motioned for me to come to him. My heart filled with sympathy for him, for I knew something was wrong. As I approached him and looked into his face it seemed to me it was the saddest and most troubled countenance I had ever beheld. There were deep lines of suffering about the face, the features were drawn and pinched. His hair was thin and uncombed. He was naturally somewhat stoop-shouldered, but seemd to be especially so on this occasion. As I drew nearer and caught his eye I was more deeply impressed with the sadness which permeated his whole being. If I were to live a thousand years I would not forget the anguish of the expression of his face.

I said: "Mr. Lincoln, I hope you are not sick."

He replied: "No, I am not sick."

I said: "You look sad. Something terrible must have happened."

He made no reply, but, calling a servant, he asked how long it would be until the boat left the wharf for Harrison's Landing. The answer was: "In thirty minutes." Then, turning to me, Lincoln siad in an undertone, and the sadness of his face deepened as he said it: "I must go on that boat to Harrison's Landing on the James River."

"What for?" I asked in surprise.

His voice dropped to a whisper as he replied: " I must go to Harrison's Landing to keep McClellan from surrendering the army."

It was after the Seven Days' Battle, and the leader of the great army was retreating before the Confederates.

At this point I introduced the women and retired. In thirty minutes Lincoln was on board the boat, speeding away on his journey. The next I heard of him he was at Harrison's Landing, and the Union Army was not surrendered.

[this vignette sounds like a scene from a Shakespeare play, does it not?]


2) Had there ever been a period in which he thought that better management upon the part of the commanding general might have terminated the war?

"Yes," answered the President, "there were three: at 'Malvern Hill,' when McClellan failed to command an immediate advance upon Richmond; at 'Chancellorville,' when Hooker fialed to reenforce Sedgwick, after hearing his cannon upon the extreme right; and at 'Gettysburg,' when Meade failed to attack Lee in his retreat at the bend of the Potomac." After this commentary, the Congressman waited for an outburst of denunciation--for a criticism, at least--upon the delinquent officers; but he waied in vain. So far from a word of censure escaping Mr. Lincoln's lips, he soon added, that his first remark might not appear uncharitable: "I do not know that I could have given any different orders had I been with them myself. I have not fully made up my mind how I should behave when minie-balls were whistling, and those great oblon shells shrieking in my ear. I might run away. (The Inner Life of Abraham Lincoln, page 219-20.)

[this interview took place in 1864, just after General Fremont declined to run against Lincoln for the presidency]

In order to follow President Lincoln's evolvement of opinion regarding Meade's failure to follow-up the victory over Lee's forces at Gettysburg, one must begin by turning to John Hay's diary entries of July 13 and 14, 1863 as reported in Professor Burlingame's book, Abraham Lincoln, A Life, Vol. Two, page 513:

On July 12, Meade caught up with Lee at Williamsport, where he could have attacked that day or the next. . . . On the night of July 13, the Confederates began crossing the river, and finished doing so the next day. On July 14, John Hay recorded in his diary: "This morning the President seemed depressed by Meade's despatches of last night. They were so cautiously and almost timidly worded--talking about reconnoitering to find the enemy's weak place and other such." Lincoln "said he feared that he would do nothing." Around midday, when Lee's escape was confirmed, Lincoln was overcome with grief and anger. Profoundly dismayed, he said: "We only had to stretch forth our hands and they were ours. And nothing I could say or do could make the Army move." His son Robert reported that Lincoln "grieved silently but deeply about the escape of Lee. He said, 'If I had gone up there I could have whipped them myself.'" For the only time in his life, Robert saw tears in his father's eyes. Lincoln had justifiably feared that it would be a repeat of Antietam, with the Army of the Potomac failing to cut off the
Confederates as they retreated.

On July 14, 1863, President Lincoln authored a stinging letter of censure addressed to General Meade that was filed but never sent, or even signed. See the Collected Works of Lincoln 6:327-328. One line of the letter reads: "I was in such deep distress myself that I could not restrain some expression of it."

According to Professor Burlingame, President Lincoln did tell the general: "The fruit seemed so ripe, so ready for plucking, that it was very hard to lose it." But a week later, when Lincoln was in a better mood, he told one of Meade's corps commanders: "I was deeply mortified by the escape of Lee." But then Lincoln added: "A few days having passed, I am now profoundly grateful for what was done, without criticism for what was not done."