Abraham Lincoln and a Clear Conscience

Erin and I first got to know each other while studying for a Property final in a class taught by Professor Dave Thomas. Because of that connection, Professor Thomas will always hold a special place in my heart.

During a recent speech, he shared the following story from the life of Abraham Lincoln. Even though it's a bit lengthy, I think it's worth reading:

In May of this year I had occasion to visit the recently restored "Lincoln Cottage," a house about three miles north of the White House, where Abraham Lincoln lived with his family for five months a year during 1862, 1863 and 1864. Each day he rode, usually on horseback, from the White House to this sanctuary, where he could escape from the hot and muggy weather, from the crowds seeking his personal assistance, and from the gloom of the recent death of his son Willie. He accomplished much important work in this "Cottage," not the least of which was his drafting of the Emancipation Proclamation.

Late one hot summer evening in 1862, Lincoln was at home in the "Cottage" trying to calm his mind on the eve of a significant Civil War battle about to be fought on the outskirts of Washington, D.C. He was also relieved to be momentarily free of an especially persistent woman who had called on him in the White House that day seeking a promotion for her husband. Nevertheless, late that evening another private citizen, having been aided in finding the President by a Treasury Department employee, was admitted to see Mr. Lincoln. His story was poignant and wrenching. His son-in-law, a Union officer from New Hampshire, had been wounded in recent fighting. The officer’s wife, the visitor’s daughter, had made the journey from New Hampshire, located her husband and helped him recover. As they journeyed by boat back to Washington, the boat collided with another boat at night, and 73 passengers drowned. The wife was one of those victims and her husband barely escaped with his life. The visitor had returned to Washington to locate and return the body of his daughter to New Hampshire. He sought access to the area of the disaster, which had been closed because of the pending battle. The Secretary of War had gruffly refused his request, so he was now before the President seeking intervention. Here is what happened according to accounts published some years after the incident:

Without making any interruptions, Lincoln listened to the [visitor’s] long and tragic story. At the end, however, . . . instead of displaying his legendary generosity, Lincoln reportedly said: "Am I to have no rest? Is there no hour or spot when or where I may escape this constant call? Why do you follow me out here with such business as this? Why do you not go to the War-office, where they have charge of all this matter of papers and transportation?" The embarrassed [visitor] tried to argue his case with the exhausted president, but to no avail. . . . [He was] dismissed curtly and sent back to the city without any relief. (Matthew Pinsker, Lincolns Sanctuary 52-53 (Oxford Press, 2003).)

At this point, I'm now thinking, "Great, even Abraham Lincoln is a jerk. Yet another fallen role-model from childhood--just when I thought I had come to terms with steroids in sports, I now have to accept this. I guess being in the middle of a war could cause Honest Abe to be a little too honest."

There were plenty of solid reasons for Lincoln to react the way he did. He's in the middle of one of the worst wars in history with no end in sight--I mean, I get snippy when the cable goes out. I think that in many people's lives, the account would end there. Fortunately, the story continues:

The next morning Lincoln appeared at the visitor’s hotel full of apologies. "I was a brute last night," he confessed. (Id.) "I fear, Sir, that my conduct has been such as to make it appear that I had forgotten my humanity. You say that one of the unfortunate ladies was your daughter?" As reported in the visitor’s obituary in 1885, "The two men sat down and talked as familiarly as old friends. Great tears rolled down the President’s careworn face as he heard the story of the shipwreck. . . . He then wrote a mandatory order to [the Secretary of War] requiring him to furnish a pass, transportation to the scene of the disaster, and all necessary assistance to find the bodies. . . . [T]he result was that after cruising along the shore in the vicinity of the wreck, and after much inquiry among the inhabitants, the place where the bodies had washed ashore and the place of interment were discovered, and they were brought home to their native New-Hampshire." (How He Atoned for His Seeming Rudeness to a Bereaved Father, published May 9, 1885 in the Boston Journal, republished May 10, 1885, in The New York Times.)

I had never heard that story before, but it really touched me. I love that this one episode teaches about character and humility and forgiveness.

I think the story ties in really well with a quote from President Monson that Erin shared with our primary class as well:

My young friends, be strong. . . . You know what is right and what is wrong, and no disguise, however appealing, can change that. The character of transgression remains the same. If your so-called friends urge you to do anything you know to be wrong, you be the one to make a stand for right, even if you stand alone. Have the moral courage to be a light for others to follow. There is no friendship more valuable than your own clear conscience, your own moral cleanliness—and what a glorious feeling it is to know that you stand in your appointed place clean and with the confidence that you are worthy to do so.