Suspension Is Not Execution
Among those generals—amateurs, like the President, themselves—who disapproved of any leniency in discipline, was Major-general Benjamin F. Butler. He wrote to his commander-in-chief so impudent an epistle as the annexed:
“MR. PRESIDENT: I pray you not to interfere with the court-martial of this army. (His, of course—his skill was discoursed upon by General Grant, who said that Butler had “corked himself up.”) You will destroy all discipline among the soldiers.”
But in the teeth of this embargo, moved by the entreaties of an old father whose son was under death sentence by this despot, he said:
“Butler or no Butler, here goes!” and, seizing his pen, wrote that the soldier in prison was not to be shot until further orders.
The affected parent eagerly took the precious paper, but his jaw fell on seeing the text: he had looked for a full pardon. But the comforter hastened to explain:
“Well, my old friend, I see that you are not very well acquainted with me. If your son never looks upon death till further orders from me to shoot him, he will live to be a great deal older than Methuselah.”
“THE DISCONTENTED... ABOUT FOUR HUNDRED—”
In 1856, Mr. Lincoln had figured prominently in the Fremont-Dayton presidential campaign, and ever since he had been partial to the “Pathfinder,” though he clearly saw that he would be a rival for the chair at Washington—his long-cherished ambition. He gave, at the outset of the war, the most important military command, that of the Mountain, or Western Department, to Fremont. The latter attempted to “steal his thunder” by issuing a forerunner of the Emancipation Act, and was removed; but Lincoln reinstated him till he had to repeat the removal. He was repaid by the incorrigible marplot setting up as candidate for the chief magistracy after it was settled that the retiring officer should be reelected. Nevertheless, the competitor’s party was so small that, in allusion to it, Lincoln read from “Samuel,” Book I:
“And every one who was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every one who was discontented, gathered themselves unto him, and he became captain over them, and there were with him about four hundred men!”
“NOT MUCH OF A HEAD, BUT HIS ONLY ONE!”
Although the life of a soldier sleeping on post was at stake, the pleader wished to forbear on finding that the supreme decider, the President, meant to make a personal matter of it. He suspended the execution while looking into it. But it was objected that this was a burden not intended to impose.
“Never mind,” Lincoln answered. “This soldier’s life is as valuable to him as any person’s in the land. It reminds me of the old Scotch woman’s saying about her laird going to be beheaded for participation in a Jacobite rebellion:
“‘It waur na mickle of a head, but it is the only head the puir body ha’ got.’”—(Assured, in substance, by L. E. Chittenden.)
“GI’E US A GOOD CONCEIT!”
A place-hunter hastened to his old acquaintance, Lincoln, when he was seated, of course, to secure a trough. But he aimed high—in contrast to Lincoln’s adage that a novice should aim low! The least he named was the berth of master of the mint.
“Good gracious!” ejaculated the chief. “Why did he not ask to be secretary of the treasury and have done with it?” Reflecting, he observed: “Well, now, I never thought that lank had anything more than average ability when we were youngsters together. But, then, I suppose, he thought the same thing about me, and yet—here I am!”