The Importance of Numbers

[David Lockmiller]

I returned in the morning, full of hope, but no smile greeted me. The President was evidently annoyed by something, and waited for me to speak, which I did not do. I afterward learned his annoyance was caused by a woman pleading for the life of a son who was sentenced to be shot for desertion under very aggravating circumstances.

After a moment he said: "Well," with a peculiar contortion of face I never saw in anybody else, "have you nothing to say?"

"Nothing, Mr. President, until I hear your decision. You bade me come this morning; have you decided?"

"No, but I believe this idea of Northern hospitals is a great humbug, and I am tired of hearing about it." He spoke impatiently. I replied: "I regret to add a feather's weight to your already overwhelming care and responsibility. I would rather have stayed at home."

With a half smile, he said: "I wish you had."

I answered him as though he had not smiled. "Nothing would have given me greater pleasure; but a keen sense of duty to this Government, justice and mercy to its most loyal supporters, and regard for your honor and position made me come. The people cannot understand why their friends are left to die when with proper care they might live and do good service for their country. Mr. Lincoln, I believe you will be grateful for my coming. I do not come to plead for the lives of criminals, not for the lives of deserters, not for those who have been in the least disloyal. I come to plead for the lives of those who helped to place you where you are, because they trusted you. Men who have done all they could, and now when flesh, and nerve, and muscle are gone, still pray for your life and the life of this republic. They scarcely ask for that for which I plead--they expect to sacrifice their lives for their country."

While I was speaking, the expression of Mr. Lincoln's face had changed many times. He had never taken his eye from me. Now every muscle in his face seemed to contract and then suddenly expand. As he opened his mouth you could almost hear them snap as he said: "You assume to know more than I do."

"You must pardon me, Mr. President. I intend no disrespect, but it is because of this knowledge, because I do know what you do not know, that I come to you. If you knew what I do and had not ordered what I ask for, I should know that an appeal to you would be made in vain; but I believe the people have not trusted you for naught. The question only is whether you believe me or not. If you believe me you will give me hospitals; if not, well --"

With the same snapping of muscles he again said: "You assume to know more than surgeons do."

"Oh, no! Mr. Lincoln, I could not perform an amputation nearly as well as some of them do; indeed, I do not think I could do it at all. But this is true--I do not come here for your favor, I am not an aspirant for military honor. I have visited the hospitals, from early morning until late at night sometimes. I have visited the regimental and general hospitals on the Mississippi River from Quincy to Vicksburg, and I come to you from the cots of men who have died, who might have lived had you permitted. This is hard to say, but it is none the less true."

During the time that I had been speaking, Mr. Lincoln's brow had become very much contracted, and a severe scowl had settled over his whole face. He sharply asked how many men Wisconsin had in the field, that is, how many did she send? "About 50,000, I think, I do not know exactly."

"That means she has about 20,000 now." He looked at me, and said: "You need not look so sober, they are not all dead. I have a good mind to dismiss every man of them from the service and have no more trouble with them!"

The spell must be broken, so I said: "Do not speak so, Mr. President. Who will have so much reason to rejoice when the Government is restored, as it will be?"

"I know, I know," he said, placing a hand on each side [of his head] and bowing forward, "but the springs of life are wearing away." As I rose to take leave, I said: "Have you decided upon your answer to the object of my visit?" He replied: "No. Come tomorrow at twelve o'clock."