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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12830 ***
+
+THE PERFECT TRIBUTE
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+THE PERFECT TRIBUTE BY
+
+Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews
+
+
+1908
+
+
+
+
+THE PERFECT TRIBUTE
+
+
+On the morning of November 18, 1863, a special train drew out from
+Washington, carrying a distinguished company. The presence with them
+of the Marine Band from the Navy Yard spoke a public occasion to come,
+and among the travellers there were those who might be gathered only
+for an occasion of importance. There were judges of the Supreme
+Court of the United States; there were heads of departments; the
+general-in-chief of the army and his staff; members of the cabinet.
+In their midst, as they stood about the car before settling for the
+journey, towered a man sad, preoccupied, unassuming; a man awkward and
+ill-dressed; a man, as he leaned slouchingly against the wall, of
+no grace of look or manner, in whose haggard face seemed to be the
+suffering of the sins of the world. Abraham Lincoln, President of the
+United States, journeyed with his party to assist at the consecration,
+the next day, of the national cemetery at Gettysburg. The quiet
+November landscape slipped past the rattling train, and the
+President's deep-set eyes stared out at it gravely, a bit listlessly.
+From time to time he talked with those who were about him; from time
+to time there were flashes of that quaint wit which is linked, as
+his greatness, with his name, but his mind was to-day dispirited,
+unhopeful. The weight on his shoulders seemed pressing more heavily
+than he had courage to press back against it, the responsibility
+of one almost a dictator in a wide, war-torn country came near to
+crushing, at times, the mere human soul and body. There was, moreover,
+a speech to be made to-morrow to thousands who would expect their
+President to say something to them worth the listening of a people
+who were making history; something brilliant, eloquent, strong. The
+melancholy gaze glittered with a grim smile. He--Abraham Lincoln--the
+lad bred in a cabin, tutored in rough schools here and there, fighting
+for, snatching at crumbs of learning that fell from rich tables,
+struggling to a hard knowledge which well knew its own limitations--it
+was he of whom this was expected. He glanced across the car. Edward
+Everett sat there, the orator of the following day, the finished
+gentleman, the careful student, the heir of traditions of learning
+and breeding, of scholarly instincts and resources. The self-made
+President gazed at him wistfully. From him the people might expect and
+would get a balanced and polished oration. For that end he had been
+born, and inheritance and opportunity and inclination had worked
+together for that end's perfection. While Lincoln had wrested from a
+scanty schooling a command of English clear and forcible always,
+but, he feared, rough-hewn, lacking, he feared, in finish and in
+breadth--of what use was it for such a one to try to fashion a speech
+fit to take a place by the side of Everett's silver sentences? He
+sighed. Yet the people had a right to the best he could give, and he
+would give them his best; at least he could see to it that the words
+were real and were short; at least he would not, so, exhaust their
+patience. And the work might as well be done now in the leisure of the
+journey. He put a hand, big, powerful, labor-knotted, into first one
+sagging pocket and then another, in search of a pencil, and drew out
+one broken across the end. He glanced about inquiringly--there was
+nothing to write upon. Across the car the Secretary of State had just
+opened a package of books and their wrapping of brown paper lay on
+the floor, torn carelessly in a zigzag. The President stretched a long
+arm.
+
+"Mr. Seward, may I have this to do a little writing?" he asked, and
+the Secretary protested, insisting on finding better material.
+
+But Lincoln, with few words, had his way, and soon the untidy stump
+of a pencil was at work and the great head, the deep-lined face, bent
+over Seward's bit of brown paper, the whole man absorbed in his task.
+
+Earnestly, with that "capacity for taking infinite pains" which
+has been defined as genius, he labored as the hours flew, building
+together close-fitted word on word, sentence on sentence. As the
+sculptor must dream the statue prisoned in the marble, as the artist
+must dream the picture to come from the brilliant unmeaning of his
+palette, as the musician dreams a song, so he who writes must have a
+vision of his finished work before he touches, to begin it, a
+medium more elastic, more vivid, more powerful than any
+other--words--prismatic bits of humanity, old as the Pharaohs, new as
+the Arabs of the street, broken, sparkling, alive, from the age-long
+life of the race. Abraham Lincoln, with the clear thought in his mind
+of what he would say, found the sentences that came to him colorless,
+wooden. A wonder flashed over him once or twice of Everett's skill
+with these symbols which, it seemed to him, were to the Bostonian a
+key-board facile to make music, to Lincoln tools to do his labor. He
+put the idea aside, for it hindered him. As he found the sword fitted
+to his hand he must fight with it; it might be that he, as well as
+Everett, could say that which should go straight from him to his
+people, to the nation who struggled at his back towards a goal. At
+least each syllable he said should be chiselled from the rock of his
+sincerity. So he cut here and there an adjective, here and there a
+phrase, baring the heart of his thought, leaving no ribbon or flower
+of rhetoric to flutter in the eyes of those with whom he would be
+utterly honest. And when he had done he read the speech and dropped
+it from his hand to the floor and stared again from the window. It was
+the best he could do, and it was a failure. So, with the pang of the
+workman who believes his work done wrong, he lifted and folded the
+torn bit of paper and put it in his pocket, and put aside the thought
+of it, as of a bad thing which he might not better, and turned and
+talked cheerfully with his friends.
+
+At eleven o'clock on the morning of the day following, on November 19,
+1863, a vast, silent multitude billowed, like waves of the sea, over
+what had been not long before the battle-field of Gettysburg. There
+were wounded soldiers there who had beaten their way four months
+before through a singing fire across these quiet fields, who had
+seen the men die who were buried here; there were troops, grave and
+responsible, who must soon go again into battle; there were the rank
+and file of an everyday American gathering in surging thousands; and
+above them all, on the open-air platform, there were the leaders of
+the land, the pilots who to-day lifted a hand from the wheel of the
+ship of state to salute the memory of those gone down in the storm.
+Most of the men in that group of honor are now passed over to the
+majority, but their names are not dead in American history--great
+ghosts who walk still in the annals of their country, their
+flesh-and-blood faces were turned attentively that bright, still
+November afternoon towards the orator of the day, whose voice held the
+audience.
+
+For two hours Everett spoke and the throng listened untired,
+fascinated by the dignity of his high-bred look and manner almost as
+much, perhaps, as by the speech which has taken a place in literature.
+As he had been expected to speak he spoke, of the great battle, of
+the causes of the war, of the results to come after. It was an oration
+which missed no shade of expression, no reach of grasp. Yet there
+were those in the multitude, sympathetic to a unit as it was with the
+Northern cause, who grew restless when this man who had been crowned
+with so thick a laurel wreath by Americans spoke of Americans as
+rebels, of a cause for which honest Americans were giving their lives
+as a crime. The days were war days, and men's passions were inflamed,
+yet there were men who listened to Edward Everett who believed that
+his great speech would have been greater unenforced with bitterness.
+
+As the clear, cultivated voice fell into silence, the mass of people
+burst into a long storm of applause, for they knew that they had heard
+an oration which was an event. They clapped and cheered him again and
+again and again, as good citizens acclaim a man worthy of honor
+whom they have delighted to honor. At last, as the ex-Governor of
+Massachusetts, the ex-ambassador to England, the ex-Secretary of
+State, the ex-Senator of the United States--handsome, distinguished,
+graceful, sure of voice and of movement--took his seat, a tall, gaunt
+figure detached itself from the group on the platform and slouched
+slowly across the open space and stood facing the audience. A stir
+and a whisper brushed over the field of humanity, as if a breeze
+had rippled a monstrous bed of poppies. This was the President. A
+quivering silence settled down and every eye was wide to watch this
+strange, disappointing appearance, every ear alert to catch the first
+sound of his voice. Suddenly the voice came, in a queer, squeaking
+falsetto. The effect on the audience was irrepressible, ghastly.
+After Everett's deep tones, after the strain of expectancy, this
+extraordinary, gaunt apparition, this high, thin sound from the huge
+body, were too much for the American crowd's sense of humor, always
+stronger than its sense of reverence. A suppressed yet unmistakable
+titter caught the throng, ran through it, and was gone. Yet no one
+who knew the President's face could doubt that he had heard it and
+had understood. Calmly enough, after a pause almost too slight to be
+recognized, he went on, and in a dozen words his tones had gathered
+volume, he had come to his power and dignity. There was no smile now
+on any face of those who listened. People stopped breathing rather,
+as if they feared to miss an inflection. A loose-hung figure, six
+feet four inches high, he towered above them, conscious of and
+quietly ignoring the bad first impression, unconscious of a charm of
+personality which reversed that impression within a sentence. That
+these were his people was his only thought. He had something to say to
+them; what did it matter about him or his voice?
+
+"Fourscore and seven years ago," spoke the President, "our fathers
+brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and
+dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we
+are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any
+nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on
+a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of
+it as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that
+that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we
+should do this.
+
+"But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate,
+we cannot hallow, this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who
+struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or
+to detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say
+here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the
+living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they
+who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us
+to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from
+these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which
+they here gave the last full measure of devotion--that we here highly
+resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation,
+under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of
+the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the
+earth."
+
+There was no sound from the silent, vast assembly. The President's
+large figure stood before them, at first inspired, glorified with the
+thrill and swing of his words, lapsing slowly in the stillness into
+lax, ungraceful lines. He stared at them a moment with sad eyes full
+of gentleness, of resignation, and in the deep quiet they stared at
+him. Not a hand was lifted in applause. Slowly the big, awkward man
+slouched back across the platform and sank into his seat, and yet
+there was no sound of approval, of recognition from the audience; only
+a long sigh ran like a ripple on an ocean through rank after rank. In
+Lincoln's heart a throb of pain answered it. His speech had been, as
+he feared it would be, a failure. As he gazed steadily at these his
+countrymen who would not give him even a little perfunctory applause
+for his best effort, he knew that the disappointment of it cut into
+his soul. And then he was aware that there was music, the choir was
+singing a dirge; his part was done, and his part had failed.
+
+When the ceremonies were over Everett at once found the President.
+"Mr. President," he began, "your speech--" but Lincoln had
+interrupted, flashing a kindly smile down at him, laying a hand on his
+shoulder.
+
+"We'll manage not to talk about my speech, Mr. Everett," he said.
+"This isn't the first time I've felt that my dignity ought not to
+permit me to be a public speaker."
+
+He went on in a few cordial sentences to pay tribute to the orator
+of the occasion. Everett listened thoughtfully and when the chief had
+done, "Mr. President," he said simply, "I should be glad if I could
+flatter myself that I came as near the central idea of the occasion in
+two hours as you did in two minutes."
+
+But Lincoln shook his head and laughed and turned to speak to a
+newcomer with no change of opinion--he was apt to trust his own
+judgments.
+
+The special train which left Gettysburg immediately after the
+solemnities on the battle-field cemetery brought the President's party
+into Washington during the night. There was no rest for the man at the
+wheel of the nation next day, but rather added work until, at about
+four in the afternoon, he felt sorely the need of air and went out
+from the White House alone, for a walk. His mind still ran on the
+events of the day before--the impressive, quiet multitude, the serene
+sky of November arched, in the hushed interregnum of the year, between
+the joy of summer and the war of winter, over those who had gone from
+earthly war to heavenly joy. The picture was deeply engraved in his
+memory; it haunted him. And with it came a soreness, a discomfort of
+mind which had haunted him as well in the hours between--the chagrin
+of the failure of his speech. During the day he had gently but
+decisively put aside all reference to it from those about him; he had
+glanced at the head-lines in the newspapers with a sarcastic smile;
+the Chief Executive must he flattered, of course; newspaper notices
+meant nothing. He knew well that he had made many successful speeches;
+no man of his shrewdness could be ignorant that again and again he
+had carried an audience by storm; yet he had no high idea of his own
+speech-making, and yesterday's affair had shaken his confidence more.
+He remembered sadly that, even for the President, no hand, no voice
+had been lifted in applause.
+
+"It must have been pretty poor stuff," he said half aloud; "yet I
+thought it was a fair little composition. I meant to do well by them."
+
+His long strides had carried him into the outskirts of the city, and
+suddenly, at a corner, from behind a hedge, a young boy of fifteen
+years or so came rushing toward him and tripped and stumbled against
+him, and Lincoln kept him from falling with a quick, vigorous arm. The
+lad righted himself and tossed back his thick, light hair and stared
+haughtily, and the President, regarding him, saw that his blue eyes
+were blind with tears.
+
+"Do you want all of the public highway? Can't a gentleman from the
+South even walk in the streets without--without--" and the broken
+sentence ended in a sob.
+
+The anger and the insolence of the lad were nothing to the man who
+towered above him--to that broad mind this was but a child in trouble.
+"My boy, the fellow that's interfering with your walking is down
+inside of you," he said gently, and with that the astonished youngster
+opened his wet eyes wide and laughed--a choking, childish laugh that
+pulled at the older man's heart-strings. "That's better, sonny," he
+said, and patted the slim shoulder. "Now tell me what's wrong with the
+world. Maybe I might help straighten it."
+
+"Wrong, wrong!" the child raved; "everything's wrong," and launched
+into a mad tirade against the government from the President down.
+
+Lincoln listened patiently, and when the lad paused for breath, "Go
+ahead," he said good-naturedly. "Every little helps."
+
+With that the youngster was silent and drew himself up with stiff
+dignity, offended yet fascinated; unable to tear himself away from
+this strange giant who was so insultingly kind under his abuse, who
+yet inspired him with such a sense of trust and of hope.
+
+"I want a lawyer," he said impulsively, looking up anxiously into the
+deep-lined face inches above him. "I don't know where to find a lawyer
+in this horrible city, and I must have one--I can't wait--it may be
+too late--I want a lawyer _now_" and once more he was in a fever
+of excitement.
+
+"What do you want with a lawyer?" Again the calm, friendly tone
+quieted him.
+
+"I want him to draw a will. My brother is--" he caught his breath with
+a gasp in a desperate effort for self-control. "They say he's--dying."
+He finished the sentence with a quiver in his voice, and the brave
+front and the trembling, childish tone went to the man's heart. "I
+don't believe it--he can't be dying," the boy talked on, gathering
+courage. "But anyway, he wants to make a will, and--and I reckon--it
+may be that he--he must."
+
+"I see," the other answered gravely, and the young, torn soul felt
+an unreasoning confidence that he had found a friend. "Where is your
+brother?"
+
+"He's in the prison hospital there--in that big building," he pointed
+down the street. "He's captain in our army--in the Confederate army.
+He was wounded at Gettysburg."
+
+"Oh!" The deep-set eyes gazed down at the fresh face, its muscles
+straining under grief and responsibility, with the gentlest, most
+fatherly pity. "I think I can manage your job, my boy," he said. "I
+used to practise law in a small way myself, and I'll be glad to draw
+the will for you."
+
+The young fellow had whirled him around before he had finished the
+sentence. "Come," he said. "Don't waste time talking--why didn't
+you tell me before?" and then he glanced up. He saw the ill-fitting
+clothes, the crag-like, rough-modelled head, the awkward carriage of
+the man; he was too young to know that what he felt beyond these was
+greatness. There was a tone of patronage in his voice and in the
+cock of his aristocratic young head as he spoke. "We can pay you, you
+know--we're not paupers." He fixed his eyes on Lincoln's face to watch
+the impression as he added, "My brother is Carter Hampton Blair, of
+Georgia. I'm Warrington Blair. The Hampton Court Blairs, you know."
+
+"Oh!" said the President.
+
+The lad went on:
+
+"It would have been all right if Nellie hadn't left Washington
+to-day--my sister, Miss Eleanor Hampton Blair. Carter was better this
+morning, and so she went with the Senator. She's secretary to Senator
+Warrington, you know. He's on the Yankee side"--the tone was full of
+contempt--"but yet he's our cousin, and when he offered Nellie the
+position she would take it in spite of Carter and me. We were so
+poor"--the lad's pride was off its guard for the moment, melted in the
+soothing trust with which this stranger thrilled his soul. It was a
+relief to him to talk, and the large hand which rested on his shoulder
+as they walked seemed an assurance that his words were accorded
+respect and understanding. "Of course, if Nellie had been here she
+would have known how to get a lawyer, but Carter had a bad turn half
+an hour ago, and the doctor said he might get better or he might die
+any minute, and Carter remembered about the money, and got so excited
+that they said it was hurting him, so I said I'd get a lawyer, and I
+rushed out, and the first thing I ran against you. I'm afraid I wasn't
+very polite." The smile on the gaunt face above him was all the answer
+he needed. "I'm sorry. I apologize. It certainly was good of you to
+come right back with me." The child's manner was full of the assured
+graciousness of a high-born gentleman; there was a lovable quality in
+his very patronage, and the suffering and the sweetness and the pride
+combined held Lincoln by his sense of humor as well as by his soft
+heart. "You sha'n't lose anything by it," the youngster went on. "We
+may be poor, but we have more than plenty to pay you, I'm sure. Nellie
+has some jewels, you see--oh, I think several things yet. Is it very
+expensive to draw a will?" he asked wistfully.
+
+"No, sonny; it's one of the cheapest things a man can do," was the
+hurried answer, and the child's tone showed a lighter heart.
+
+"I'm glad of that, for, of course, Carter wants to leave--to leave
+as much as he can. You see, that's what the will is about--Carter is
+engaged to marry Miss Sally Maxfield, and they would have been married
+now if he hadn't been wounded and taken prisoner. So, of course, like
+any gentleman that's engaged, he wants to give her everything that he
+has. Hampton Court has to come to me after Carter, but there's some
+money--quite a lot--only we can't get it now. And that ought to go
+to Carter's wife, which is what she is--just about--and if he doesn't
+make a will it won't. It will come to Nellie and me if--if anything
+should happen to Carter."
+
+"So you're worrying for fear you'll inherit some money?" Lincoln asked
+meditatively.
+
+"Of course," the boy threw back impatiently. "Of course, it would be a
+shame if it came to Nellie and me, for we couldn't ever make her take
+it. We don't need it--I can look after Nellie and myself," he said
+proudly, with a quick, tossing motion of his fair head that was like
+the motion of a spirited, thoroughbred horse. They had arrived at the
+prison. "I can get you through all right. They all know me here," he
+spoke over his shoulder reassuringly to the President with a friendly
+glance. Dashing down the corridors in front, he did not see the guards
+salute the tall figure which followed him; too preoccupied to wonder
+at the ease of their entrance, he flew along through the big building,
+and behind him in large strides came his friend.
+
+A young man--almost a boy, too--of twenty-three or twenty-four,
+his handsome face a white shadow, lay propped against the pillows,
+watching the door eagerly as they entered.
+
+"Good boy, Warry," he greeted the little fellow; "you've got me a
+lawyer," and the pale features lighted with a smile of such radiance
+as seemed incongruous in this gruesome place. He held out his hand to
+the man who swung toward him, looming mountainous behind his brother's
+slight figure. "Thank you for coming," he said cordially, and in his
+tone was the same air of a _grand seigneur_ as in the lad's.
+Suddenly a spasm of pain caught him, his head fell into the pillows,
+his muscles twisted, his arm about the neck of the kneeling boy
+tightened convulsively. Yet while the agony still held him he
+was smiling again with gay courage. "It nearly blew me away," he
+whispered, his voice shaking, but his eyes bright with amusement.
+"We'd better get to work before one of those little breezes carries
+me too far. There's pen and ink on the table, Mr.--my brother did not
+tell me your name."
+
+"Your brother and I met informally," the other answered, setting
+the materials in order for writing. "He charged into me like a young
+steer," and the boy, out of his deep trouble, laughed delightedly. "My
+name is Lincoln."
+
+The young officer regarded him. "That's a good name from your
+standpoint--you are, I take it, a Northerner?"
+
+The deep eyes smiled whimsically. "I'm on that side of the fence. You
+may call me a Yankee if you'd like."
+
+"There's something about you, Mr. Lincoln," the young Georgian
+answered gravely, with a kindly and unconscious condescension, "which
+makes me wish to call you, if I may, a friend."
+
+He had that happy instinct which shapes a sentence to fall on its
+smoothest surface, and the President, in whom the same instinct was
+strong, felt a quick comradeship with this enemy who, about to die,
+saluted him. He put out his great fist swiftly. "Shake hands," he
+said. "Friends it is."
+
+"'Till death us do part,'" said the officer slowly, and smiled, and
+then threw back his head with a gesture like the boy's. "We must do
+the will," he said peremptorily.
+
+"Yes, now we'll fix this will business, Captain Blair," the big man
+answered cheerfully. "When your mind's relieved about your plunder you
+can rest easier and get well faster."
+
+The sweet, brilliant smile of the Southerner shone out, his arm drew
+the boy's shoulder closer, and the President, with a pang, knew that
+his friend knew that he must die.
+
+With direct, condensed question and clear answer the simple will was
+shortly drawn and the impromptu lawyer rose to take his leave. But the
+wounded man put out his hand.
+
+"Don't go yet," he pleaded, with the imperious, winning accent which
+was characteristic of both brothers. The sudden, radiant smile broke
+again over the face, young, drawn with suffering, prophetic of close
+death. "I like you," he brought out frankly. "I've never liked a
+stranger as much in such short order before."
+
+His head, fair as the boy's, lay back on the pillows, locks of hair
+damp against the whiteness, the blue eyes shone like jewels from the
+colorless face, a weak arm stretched protectingly about the young
+brother who pressed against him. There was so much courage, so much
+helplessness, so much pathos in the picture that the President's great
+heart throbbed with a desire to comfort them.
+
+"I want to talk to you about that man Lincoln, your namesake," the
+prisoner's deep, uncertain voice went on, trying pathetically to make
+conversation which might interest, might hold his guest. The man who
+stood hesitating controlled a startled movement. "I'm Southern to the
+core of me, and I believe with my soul in the cause I've fought for,
+the cause I'm--" he stopped, and his hand caressed the boy's shoulder.
+"But that President of yours is a remarkable man. He's regarded as
+a red devil by most of us down home, you know," and he laughed,
+"but I've admired him all along. He's inspired by principle, not by
+animosity, in this fight; he's real and he's powerful and"--he lifted
+his head impetuously and his eyes flashed--"and, by Jove, have you
+read his speech of yesterday in the papers?"
+
+Lincoln gave him an odd look. "No," he said, "I haven't."
+
+"Sit down," Blair commanded. "Don't grudge a few minutes to a man in
+hard luck. I want to tell you about that speech. You're not so busy
+but that you ought to know."
+
+"Well, yes," said Lincoln, "perhaps I ought." He took out his watch
+and made a quick mental calculation. "It's only a question of going
+without my dinner, and the boy is dying," he thought. "If I can give
+him a little pleasure the dinner is a small matter." He spoke again.
+"It's the soldiers who are the busy men, not the lawyers, nowadays,"
+he said. "I'll be delighted to spend a half hour with you, Captain
+Blair, if I won't tire you."
+
+"That's good of you," the young officer said, and a king on his throne
+could not have been gracious in a more lordly yet unconscious way.
+"By the way, this great man isn't any relation of yours, is he, Mr.
+Lincoln?"
+
+"He's a kind of connection--through my grandfather," Lincoln
+acknowledged. "But I know just the sort of fellow he is--you can say
+what you want."
+
+"What I want to say first is this: that he yesterday made one of the
+great speeches of history."
+
+"What?" demanded Lincoln, staring.
+
+"I know what I'm talking about." The young fellow brought his thin
+fist down on the bedclothes. "My father was a speaker--all my uncles
+and my grandfather were speakers. I've been brought up on oratory.
+I've studied and read the best models since I was a lad in
+knee-breeches. And I know a great speech when I see it. And when
+Nellie--my sister--brought in the paper this morning and read that
+to me I told her at once that not six times since history began has a
+speech been made which was its equal. That was before she told me what
+the Senator said."
+
+"What did the Senator say?" asked the quiet man who listened.
+
+"It was Senator Warrington, to whom my sister is--is acting as
+secretary." The explanation was distasteful, but he went on, carried
+past the jog by the interest of his story. "He was at Gettysburg
+yesterday, with the President's party. He told my sister that the
+speech so went home to the hearts of all those thousands of people
+that when it was ended it was as if the whole audience held its
+breath--there was not a hand lifted to applaud. One might as well
+applaud the Lord's Prayer--it would have been sacrilege. And they
+all felt it--down to the lowest. There was a long minute of reverent
+silence, no sound from all that great throng--it seems to me, an
+enemy, that it was the most perfect tribute that has ever been paid by
+any people to any orator."
+
+The boy, lifting his hand from his brother's shoulder to mark the
+effect of his brother's words, saw with surprise that in the strange
+lawyer's eyes were tears. But the wounded man did not notice.
+
+"It will live, that speech. Fifty years from now American schoolboys
+will be learning it as part of their education. It is not merely my
+opinion," he went on. "Warrington says the whole country is ringing
+with it. And you haven't read it? And your name's Lincoln? Warry, boy,
+where's the paper Nellie left? I'll read the speech to Mr. Lincoln
+myself."
+
+The boy had sprung to his feet and across the room, and had lifted
+a folded newspaper from the table. "Let me read it, Carter--it might
+tire you."
+
+The giant figure which had crouched, elbows on knees, in the shadows
+by the narrow hospital cot, heaved itself slowly upward till it loomed
+at its full height in air. Lincoln turned his face toward the boy
+standing under the flickering gas-jet and reading with soft, sliding
+inflections the words which had for twenty-four hours been gall and
+wormwood to his memory. And as the sentences slipped from the lad's
+mouth, behold, a miracle happened, for the man who had written them
+knew that they were great. He knew then, as many a lesser one has
+known, that out of a little loving-kindness had come great joy; that
+he had wrested with gentleness a blessing from his enemy.
+
+"'Fourscore and seven years ago,'" the fresh voice began, and the
+face of the dying man stood out white in the white pillows, sharp with
+eagerness, and the face of the President shone as he listened as if to
+new words. The field of yesterday, the speech, the deep silence which
+followed it, all were illuminated, as his mind went back, with new
+meaning. With the realization that the stillness had meant, not
+indifference, but perhaps, as this generous enemy had said, "The most
+perfect tribute ever paid by any people to any orator," there came
+to him a rush of glad strength to bear the burdens of the nation. The
+boy's tones ended clearly, deliberately:
+
+"'We here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain,
+that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and
+that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not
+perish from the earth.'"
+
+There was deep stillness in the hospital ward as there had been
+stillness on the field of Gettysburg. The soldier's voice broke it.
+"It's a wonderful speech," he said. "There's nothing finer. Other men
+have spoken stirring words, for the North and for the South, but never
+before, I think, with the love of both breathing through them. It is
+only the greatest who can be a partisan without bitterness, and only
+such to-day may call himself not Northern or Southern, but American.
+To feel that your enemy can fight you to death without malice, with
+charity--it lifts country, it lifts humanity to something worth dying
+for. They are beautiful, broad words and the sting of war would be
+drawn if the soul of Lincoln could be breathed into the armies. Do
+you agree with me?" he demanded abruptly, and Lincoln answered slowly,
+from a happy heart.
+
+"I believe it is a good speech," he said.
+
+The impetuous Southerner went on: "Of course, it's all wrong from
+my point of view," and the gentleness of his look made the words
+charming. "The thought which underlies it is warped, inverted, as I
+look at it, yet that doesn't alter my admiration of the man and of his
+words. I'd like to put my hand in his before I die," he said, and the
+sudden, brilliant, sweet smile lit the transparency of his face like
+a lamp; "and I'd like to tell him that I know that what we're all
+fighting for, the best of us, is the right of our country as it is
+given us to see it." He was laboring a bit with the words now as if
+he were tired, but he hushed the boy imperiously. "When a man gets so
+close to death's door that he feels the wind through it from a larger
+atmosphere, then the small things are blown away. The bitterness
+of the fight has faded for me. I only feel the love of country, the
+satisfaction of giving my life for it. The speech--that speech--has
+made it look higher and simpler--your side as well as ours. I would
+like to put my hand in Abraham Lincoln's--"
+
+The clear, deep voice, with its hesitations, its catch of weakness,
+stopped short. Convulsively the hand shot out and caught at the great
+fingers that hung near him, pulling the President, with the strength
+of agony, to his knees by the cot. The prisoner was writhing in an
+attack of mortal pain, while he held, unknowing that he held it, the
+hand of his new friend in a torturing grip. The door of death had
+opened wide and a stormy wind was carrying the bright, conquered
+spirit into that larger atmosphere of which he had spoken. Suddenly
+the struggle ceased, the unconscious head rested in the boy's arms,
+and the hand of the Southern soldier lay quiet, where he had wished to
+place it, in the hand of Abraham Lincoln.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Perfect Tribute
+by Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12830 ***
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
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+Project Gutenberg's The Perfect Tribute, by Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Perfect Tribute
+
+Author: Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews
+
+Release Date: July 6, 2004 [EBook #12830]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PERFECT TRIBUTE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Melissa Er-Raqabi and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE PERFECT TRIBUTE
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+THE PERFECT TRIBUTE BY
+
+Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews
+
+
+1908
+
+
+
+
+THE PERFECT TRIBUTE
+
+
+On the morning of November 18, 1863, a special train drew out from
+Washington, carrying a distinguished company. The presence with them
+of the Marine Band from the Navy Yard spoke a public occasion to come,
+and among the travellers there were those who might be gathered only
+for an occasion of importance. There were judges of the Supreme
+Court of the United States; there were heads of departments; the
+general-in-chief of the army and his staff; members of the cabinet.
+In their midst, as they stood about the car before settling for the
+journey, towered a man sad, preoccupied, unassuming; a man awkward and
+ill-dressed; a man, as he leaned slouchingly against the wall, of
+no grace of look or manner, in whose haggard face seemed to be the
+suffering of the sins of the world. Abraham Lincoln, President of the
+United States, journeyed with his party to assist at the consecration,
+the next day, of the national cemetery at Gettysburg. The quiet
+November landscape slipped past the rattling train, and the
+President's deep-set eyes stared out at it gravely, a bit listlessly.
+From time to time he talked with those who were about him; from time
+to time there were flashes of that quaint wit which is linked, as
+his greatness, with his name, but his mind was to-day dispirited,
+unhopeful. The weight on his shoulders seemed pressing more heavily
+than he had courage to press back against it, the responsibility
+of one almost a dictator in a wide, war-torn country came near to
+crushing, at times, the mere human soul and body. There was, moreover,
+a speech to be made to-morrow to thousands who would expect their
+President to say something to them worth the listening of a people
+who were making history; something brilliant, eloquent, strong. The
+melancholy gaze glittered with a grim smile. He--Abraham Lincoln--the
+lad bred in a cabin, tutored in rough schools here and there, fighting
+for, snatching at crumbs of learning that fell from rich tables,
+struggling to a hard knowledge which well knew its own limitations--it
+was he of whom this was expected. He glanced across the car. Edward
+Everett sat there, the orator of the following day, the finished
+gentleman, the careful student, the heir of traditions of learning
+and breeding, of scholarly instincts and resources. The self-made
+President gazed at him wistfully. From him the people might expect and
+would get a balanced and polished oration. For that end he had been
+born, and inheritance and opportunity and inclination had worked
+together for that end's perfection. While Lincoln had wrested from a
+scanty schooling a command of English clear and forcible always,
+but, he feared, rough-hewn, lacking, he feared, in finish and in
+breadth--of what use was it for such a one to try to fashion a speech
+fit to take a place by the side of Everett's silver sentences? He
+sighed. Yet the people had a right to the best he could give, and he
+would give them his best; at least he could see to it that the words
+were real and were short; at least he would not, so, exhaust their
+patience. And the work might as well be done now in the leisure of the
+journey. He put a hand, big, powerful, labor-knotted, into first one
+sagging pocket and then another, in search of a pencil, and drew out
+one broken across the end. He glanced about inquiringly--there was
+nothing to write upon. Across the car the Secretary of State had just
+opened a package of books and their wrapping of brown paper lay on
+the floor, torn carelessly in a zigzag. The President stretched a long
+arm.
+
+"Mr. Seward, may I have this to do a little writing?" he asked, and
+the Secretary protested, insisting on finding better material.
+
+But Lincoln, with few words, had his way, and soon the untidy stump
+of a pencil was at work and the great head, the deep-lined face, bent
+over Seward's bit of brown paper, the whole man absorbed in his task.
+
+Earnestly, with that "capacity for taking infinite pains" which
+has been defined as genius, he labored as the hours flew, building
+together close-fitted word on word, sentence on sentence. As the
+sculptor must dream the statue prisoned in the marble, as the artist
+must dream the picture to come from the brilliant unmeaning of his
+palette, as the musician dreams a song, so he who writes must have a
+vision of his finished work before he touches, to begin it, a
+medium more elastic, more vivid, more powerful than any
+other--words--prismatic bits of humanity, old as the Pharaohs, new as
+the Arabs of the street, broken, sparkling, alive, from the age-long
+life of the race. Abraham Lincoln, with the clear thought in his mind
+of what he would say, found the sentences that came to him colorless,
+wooden. A wonder flashed over him once or twice of Everett's skill
+with these symbols which, it seemed to him, were to the Bostonian a
+key-board facile to make music, to Lincoln tools to do his labor. He
+put the idea aside, for it hindered him. As he found the sword fitted
+to his hand he must fight with it; it might be that he, as well as
+Everett, could say that which should go straight from him to his
+people, to the nation who struggled at his back towards a goal. At
+least each syllable he said should be chiselled from the rock of his
+sincerity. So he cut here and there an adjective, here and there a
+phrase, baring the heart of his thought, leaving no ribbon or flower
+of rhetoric to flutter in the eyes of those with whom he would be
+utterly honest. And when he had done he read the speech and dropped
+it from his hand to the floor and stared again from the window. It was
+the best he could do, and it was a failure. So, with the pang of the
+workman who believes his work done wrong, he lifted and folded the
+torn bit of paper and put it in his pocket, and put aside the thought
+of it, as of a bad thing which he might not better, and turned and
+talked cheerfully with his friends.
+
+At eleven o'clock on the morning of the day following, on November 19,
+1863, a vast, silent multitude billowed, like waves of the sea, over
+what had been not long before the battle-field of Gettysburg. There
+were wounded soldiers there who had beaten their way four months
+before through a singing fire across these quiet fields, who had
+seen the men die who were buried here; there were troops, grave and
+responsible, who must soon go again into battle; there were the rank
+and file of an everyday American gathering in surging thousands; and
+above them all, on the open-air platform, there were the leaders of
+the land, the pilots who to-day lifted a hand from the wheel of the
+ship of state to salute the memory of those gone down in the storm.
+Most of the men in that group of honor are now passed over to the
+majority, but their names are not dead in American history--great
+ghosts who walk still in the annals of their country, their
+flesh-and-blood faces were turned attentively that bright, still
+November afternoon towards the orator of the day, whose voice held the
+audience.
+
+For two hours Everett spoke and the throng listened untired,
+fascinated by the dignity of his high-bred look and manner almost as
+much, perhaps, as by the speech which has taken a place in literature.
+As he had been expected to speak he spoke, of the great battle, of
+the causes of the war, of the results to come after. It was an oration
+which missed no shade of expression, no reach of grasp. Yet there
+were those in the multitude, sympathetic to a unit as it was with the
+Northern cause, who grew restless when this man who had been crowned
+with so thick a laurel wreath by Americans spoke of Americans as
+rebels, of a cause for which honest Americans were giving their lives
+as a crime. The days were war days, and men's passions were inflamed,
+yet there were men who listened to Edward Everett who believed that
+his great speech would have been greater unenforced with bitterness.
+
+As the clear, cultivated voice fell into silence, the mass of people
+burst into a long storm of applause, for they knew that they had heard
+an oration which was an event. They clapped and cheered him again and
+again and again, as good citizens acclaim a man worthy of honor
+whom they have delighted to honor. At last, as the ex-Governor of
+Massachusetts, the ex-ambassador to England, the ex-Secretary of
+State, the ex-Senator of the United States--handsome, distinguished,
+graceful, sure of voice and of movement--took his seat, a tall, gaunt
+figure detached itself from the group on the platform and slouched
+slowly across the open space and stood facing the audience. A stir
+and a whisper brushed over the field of humanity, as if a breeze
+had rippled a monstrous bed of poppies. This was the President. A
+quivering silence settled down and every eye was wide to watch this
+strange, disappointing appearance, every ear alert to catch the first
+sound of his voice. Suddenly the voice came, in a queer, squeaking
+falsetto. The effect on the audience was irrepressible, ghastly.
+After Everett's deep tones, after the strain of expectancy, this
+extraordinary, gaunt apparition, this high, thin sound from the huge
+body, were too much for the American crowd's sense of humor, always
+stronger than its sense of reverence. A suppressed yet unmistakable
+titter caught the throng, ran through it, and was gone. Yet no one
+who knew the President's face could doubt that he had heard it and
+had understood. Calmly enough, after a pause almost too slight to be
+recognized, he went on, and in a dozen words his tones had gathered
+volume, he had come to his power and dignity. There was no smile now
+on any face of those who listened. People stopped breathing rather,
+as if they feared to miss an inflection. A loose-hung figure, six
+feet four inches high, he towered above them, conscious of and
+quietly ignoring the bad first impression, unconscious of a charm of
+personality which reversed that impression within a sentence. That
+these were his people was his only thought. He had something to say to
+them; what did it matter about him or his voice?
+
+"Fourscore and seven years ago," spoke the President, "our fathers
+brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and
+dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we
+are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any
+nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on
+a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of
+it as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that
+that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we
+should do this.
+
+"But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate,
+we cannot hallow, this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who
+struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or
+to detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say
+here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the
+living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they
+who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us
+to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from
+these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which
+they here gave the last full measure of devotion--that we here highly
+resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation,
+under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of
+the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the
+earth."
+
+There was no sound from the silent, vast assembly. The President's
+large figure stood before them, at first inspired, glorified with the
+thrill and swing of his words, lapsing slowly in the stillness into
+lax, ungraceful lines. He stared at them a moment with sad eyes full
+of gentleness, of resignation, and in the deep quiet they stared at
+him. Not a hand was lifted in applause. Slowly the big, awkward man
+slouched back across the platform and sank into his seat, and yet
+there was no sound of approval, of recognition from the audience; only
+a long sigh ran like a ripple on an ocean through rank after rank. In
+Lincoln's heart a throb of pain answered it. His speech had been, as
+he feared it would be, a failure. As he gazed steadily at these his
+countrymen who would not give him even a little perfunctory applause
+for his best effort, he knew that the disappointment of it cut into
+his soul. And then he was aware that there was music, the choir was
+singing a dirge; his part was done, and his part had failed.
+
+When the ceremonies were over Everett at once found the President.
+"Mr. President," he began, "your speech--" but Lincoln had
+interrupted, flashing a kindly smile down at him, laying a hand on his
+shoulder.
+
+"We'll manage not to talk about my speech, Mr. Everett," he said.
+"This isn't the first time I've felt that my dignity ought not to
+permit me to be a public speaker."
+
+He went on in a few cordial sentences to pay tribute to the orator
+of the occasion. Everett listened thoughtfully and when the chief had
+done, "Mr. President," he said simply, "I should be glad if I could
+flatter myself that I came as near the central idea of the occasion in
+two hours as you did in two minutes."
+
+But Lincoln shook his head and laughed and turned to speak to a
+newcomer with no change of opinion--he was apt to trust his own
+judgments.
+
+The special train which left Gettysburg immediately after the
+solemnities on the battle-field cemetery brought the President's party
+into Washington during the night. There was no rest for the man at the
+wheel of the nation next day, but rather added work until, at about
+four in the afternoon, he felt sorely the need of air and went out
+from the White House alone, for a walk. His mind still ran on the
+events of the day before--the impressive, quiet multitude, the serene
+sky of November arched, in the hushed interregnum of the year, between
+the joy of summer and the war of winter, over those who had gone from
+earthly war to heavenly joy. The picture was deeply engraved in his
+memory; it haunted him. And with it came a soreness, a discomfort of
+mind which had haunted him as well in the hours between--the chagrin
+of the failure of his speech. During the day he had gently but
+decisively put aside all reference to it from those about him; he had
+glanced at the head-lines in the newspapers with a sarcastic smile;
+the Chief Executive must he flattered, of course; newspaper notices
+meant nothing. He knew well that he had made many successful speeches;
+no man of his shrewdness could be ignorant that again and again he
+had carried an audience by storm; yet he had no high idea of his own
+speech-making, and yesterday's affair had shaken his confidence more.
+He remembered sadly that, even for the President, no hand, no voice
+had been lifted in applause.
+
+"It must have been pretty poor stuff," he said half aloud; "yet I
+thought it was a fair little composition. I meant to do well by them."
+
+His long strides had carried him into the outskirts of the city, and
+suddenly, at a corner, from behind a hedge, a young boy of fifteen
+years or so came rushing toward him and tripped and stumbled against
+him, and Lincoln kept him from falling with a quick, vigorous arm. The
+lad righted himself and tossed back his thick, light hair and stared
+haughtily, and the President, regarding him, saw that his blue eyes
+were blind with tears.
+
+"Do you want all of the public highway? Can't a gentleman from the
+South even walk in the streets without--without--" and the broken
+sentence ended in a sob.
+
+The anger and the insolence of the lad were nothing to the man who
+towered above him--to that broad mind this was but a child in trouble.
+"My boy, the fellow that's interfering with your walking is down
+inside of you," he said gently, and with that the astonished youngster
+opened his wet eyes wide and laughed--a choking, childish laugh that
+pulled at the older man's heart-strings. "That's better, sonny," he
+said, and patted the slim shoulder. "Now tell me what's wrong with the
+world. Maybe I might help straighten it."
+
+"Wrong, wrong!" the child raved; "everything's wrong," and launched
+into a mad tirade against the government from the President down.
+
+Lincoln listened patiently, and when the lad paused for breath, "Go
+ahead," he said good-naturedly. "Every little helps."
+
+With that the youngster was silent and drew himself up with stiff
+dignity, offended yet fascinated; unable to tear himself away from
+this strange giant who was so insultingly kind under his abuse, who
+yet inspired him with such a sense of trust and of hope.
+
+"I want a lawyer," he said impulsively, looking up anxiously into the
+deep-lined face inches above him. "I don't know where to find a lawyer
+in this horrible city, and I must have one--I can't wait--it may be
+too late--I want a lawyer _now_" and once more he was in a fever
+of excitement.
+
+"What do you want with a lawyer?" Again the calm, friendly tone
+quieted him.
+
+"I want him to draw a will. My brother is--" he caught his breath with
+a gasp in a desperate effort for self-control. "They say he's--dying."
+He finished the sentence with a quiver in his voice, and the brave
+front and the trembling, childish tone went to the man's heart. "I
+don't believe it--he can't be dying," the boy talked on, gathering
+courage. "But anyway, he wants to make a will, and--and I reckon--it
+may be that he--he must."
+
+"I see," the other answered gravely, and the young, torn soul felt
+an unreasoning confidence that he had found a friend. "Where is your
+brother?"
+
+"He's in the prison hospital there--in that big building," he pointed
+down the street. "He's captain in our army--in the Confederate army.
+He was wounded at Gettysburg."
+
+"Oh!" The deep-set eyes gazed down at the fresh face, its muscles
+straining under grief and responsibility, with the gentlest, most
+fatherly pity. "I think I can manage your job, my boy," he said. "I
+used to practise law in a small way myself, and I'll be glad to draw
+the will for you."
+
+The young fellow had whirled him around before he had finished the
+sentence. "Come," he said. "Don't waste time talking--why didn't
+you tell me before?" and then he glanced up. He saw the ill-fitting
+clothes, the crag-like, rough-modelled head, the awkward carriage of
+the man; he was too young to know that what he felt beyond these was
+greatness. There was a tone of patronage in his voice and in the
+cock of his aristocratic young head as he spoke. "We can pay you, you
+know--we're not paupers." He fixed his eyes on Lincoln's face to watch
+the impression as he added, "My brother is Carter Hampton Blair, of
+Georgia. I'm Warrington Blair. The Hampton Court Blairs, you know."
+
+"Oh!" said the President.
+
+The lad went on:
+
+"It would have been all right if Nellie hadn't left Washington
+to-day--my sister, Miss Eleanor Hampton Blair. Carter was better this
+morning, and so she went with the Senator. She's secretary to Senator
+Warrington, you know. He's on the Yankee side"--the tone was full of
+contempt--"but yet he's our cousin, and when he offered Nellie the
+position she would take it in spite of Carter and me. We were so
+poor"--the lad's pride was off its guard for the moment, melted in the
+soothing trust with which this stranger thrilled his soul. It was a
+relief to him to talk, and the large hand which rested on his shoulder
+as they walked seemed an assurance that his words were accorded
+respect and understanding. "Of course, if Nellie had been here she
+would have known how to get a lawyer, but Carter had a bad turn half
+an hour ago, and the doctor said he might get better or he might die
+any minute, and Carter remembered about the money, and got so excited
+that they said it was hurting him, so I said I'd get a lawyer, and I
+rushed out, and the first thing I ran against you. I'm afraid I wasn't
+very polite." The smile on the gaunt face above him was all the answer
+he needed. "I'm sorry. I apologize. It certainly was good of you to
+come right back with me." The child's manner was full of the assured
+graciousness of a high-born gentleman; there was a lovable quality in
+his very patronage, and the suffering and the sweetness and the pride
+combined held Lincoln by his sense of humor as well as by his soft
+heart. "You sha'n't lose anything by it," the youngster went on. "We
+may be poor, but we have more than plenty to pay you, I'm sure. Nellie
+has some jewels, you see--oh, I think several things yet. Is it very
+expensive to draw a will?" he asked wistfully.
+
+"No, sonny; it's one of the cheapest things a man can do," was the
+hurried answer, and the child's tone showed a lighter heart.
+
+"I'm glad of that, for, of course, Carter wants to leave--to leave
+as much as he can. You see, that's what the will is about--Carter is
+engaged to marry Miss Sally Maxfield, and they would have been married
+now if he hadn't been wounded and taken prisoner. So, of course, like
+any gentleman that's engaged, he wants to give her everything that he
+has. Hampton Court has to come to me after Carter, but there's some
+money--quite a lot--only we can't get it now. And that ought to go
+to Carter's wife, which is what she is--just about--and if he doesn't
+make a will it won't. It will come to Nellie and me if--if anything
+should happen to Carter."
+
+"So you're worrying for fear you'll inherit some money?" Lincoln asked
+meditatively.
+
+"Of course," the boy threw back impatiently. "Of course, it would be a
+shame if it came to Nellie and me, for we couldn't ever make her take
+it. We don't need it--I can look after Nellie and myself," he said
+proudly, with a quick, tossing motion of his fair head that was like
+the motion of a spirited, thoroughbred horse. They had arrived at the
+prison. "I can get you through all right. They all know me here," he
+spoke over his shoulder reassuringly to the President with a friendly
+glance. Dashing down the corridors in front, he did not see the guards
+salute the tall figure which followed him; too preoccupied to wonder
+at the ease of their entrance, he flew along through the big building,
+and behind him in large strides came his friend.
+
+A young man--almost a boy, too--of twenty-three or twenty-four,
+his handsome face a white shadow, lay propped against the pillows,
+watching the door eagerly as they entered.
+
+"Good boy, Warry," he greeted the little fellow; "you've got me a
+lawyer," and the pale features lighted with a smile of such radiance
+as seemed incongruous in this gruesome place. He held out his hand to
+the man who swung toward him, looming mountainous behind his brother's
+slight figure. "Thank you for coming," he said cordially, and in his
+tone was the same air of a _grand seigneur_ as in the lad's.
+Suddenly a spasm of pain caught him, his head fell into the pillows,
+his muscles twisted, his arm about the neck of the kneeling boy
+tightened convulsively. Yet while the agony still held him he
+was smiling again with gay courage. "It nearly blew me away," he
+whispered, his voice shaking, but his eyes bright with amusement.
+"We'd better get to work before one of those little breezes carries
+me too far. There's pen and ink on the table, Mr.--my brother did not
+tell me your name."
+
+"Your brother and I met informally," the other answered, setting
+the materials in order for writing. "He charged into me like a young
+steer," and the boy, out of his deep trouble, laughed delightedly. "My
+name is Lincoln."
+
+The young officer regarded him. "That's a good name from your
+standpoint--you are, I take it, a Northerner?"
+
+The deep eyes smiled whimsically. "I'm on that side of the fence. You
+may call me a Yankee if you'd like."
+
+"There's something about you, Mr. Lincoln," the young Georgian
+answered gravely, with a kindly and unconscious condescension, "which
+makes me wish to call you, if I may, a friend."
+
+He had that happy instinct which shapes a sentence to fall on its
+smoothest surface, and the President, in whom the same instinct was
+strong, felt a quick comradeship with this enemy who, about to die,
+saluted him. He put out his great fist swiftly. "Shake hands," he
+said. "Friends it is."
+
+"'Till death us do part,'" said the officer slowly, and smiled, and
+then threw back his head with a gesture like the boy's. "We must do
+the will," he said peremptorily.
+
+"Yes, now we'll fix this will business, Captain Blair," the big man
+answered cheerfully. "When your mind's relieved about your plunder you
+can rest easier and get well faster."
+
+The sweet, brilliant smile of the Southerner shone out, his arm drew
+the boy's shoulder closer, and the President, with a pang, knew that
+his friend knew that he must die.
+
+With direct, condensed question and clear answer the simple will was
+shortly drawn and the impromptu lawyer rose to take his leave. But the
+wounded man put out his hand.
+
+"Don't go yet," he pleaded, with the imperious, winning accent which
+was characteristic of both brothers. The sudden, radiant smile broke
+again over the face, young, drawn with suffering, prophetic of close
+death. "I like you," he brought out frankly. "I've never liked a
+stranger as much in such short order before."
+
+His head, fair as the boy's, lay back on the pillows, locks of hair
+damp against the whiteness, the blue eyes shone like jewels from the
+colorless face, a weak arm stretched protectingly about the young
+brother who pressed against him. There was so much courage, so much
+helplessness, so much pathos in the picture that the President's great
+heart throbbed with a desire to comfort them.
+
+"I want to talk to you about that man Lincoln, your namesake," the
+prisoner's deep, uncertain voice went on, trying pathetically to make
+conversation which might interest, might hold his guest. The man who
+stood hesitating controlled a startled movement. "I'm Southern to the
+core of me, and I believe with my soul in the cause I've fought for,
+the cause I'm--" he stopped, and his hand caressed the boy's shoulder.
+"But that President of yours is a remarkable man. He's regarded as
+a red devil by most of us down home, you know," and he laughed,
+"but I've admired him all along. He's inspired by principle, not by
+animosity, in this fight; he's real and he's powerful and"--he lifted
+his head impetuously and his eyes flashed--"and, by Jove, have you
+read his speech of yesterday in the papers?"
+
+Lincoln gave him an odd look. "No," he said, "I haven't."
+
+"Sit down," Blair commanded. "Don't grudge a few minutes to a man in
+hard luck. I want to tell you about that speech. You're not so busy
+but that you ought to know."
+
+"Well, yes," said Lincoln, "perhaps I ought." He took out his watch
+and made a quick mental calculation. "It's only a question of going
+without my dinner, and the boy is dying," he thought. "If I can give
+him a little pleasure the dinner is a small matter." He spoke again.
+"It's the soldiers who are the busy men, not the lawyers, nowadays,"
+he said. "I'll be delighted to spend a half hour with you, Captain
+Blair, if I won't tire you."
+
+"That's good of you," the young officer said, and a king on his throne
+could not have been gracious in a more lordly yet unconscious way.
+"By the way, this great man isn't any relation of yours, is he, Mr.
+Lincoln?"
+
+"He's a kind of connection--through my grandfather," Lincoln
+acknowledged. "But I know just the sort of fellow he is--you can say
+what you want."
+
+"What I want to say first is this: that he yesterday made one of the
+great speeches of history."
+
+"What?" demanded Lincoln, staring.
+
+"I know what I'm talking about." The young fellow brought his thin
+fist down on the bedclothes. "My father was a speaker--all my uncles
+and my grandfather were speakers. I've been brought up on oratory.
+I've studied and read the best models since I was a lad in
+knee-breeches. And I know a great speech when I see it. And when
+Nellie--my sister--brought in the paper this morning and read that
+to me I told her at once that not six times since history began has a
+speech been made which was its equal. That was before she told me what
+the Senator said."
+
+"What did the Senator say?" asked the quiet man who listened.
+
+"It was Senator Warrington, to whom my sister is--is acting as
+secretary." The explanation was distasteful, but he went on, carried
+past the jog by the interest of his story. "He was at Gettysburg
+yesterday, with the President's party. He told my sister that the
+speech so went home to the hearts of all those thousands of people
+that when it was ended it was as if the whole audience held its
+breath--there was not a hand lifted to applaud. One might as well
+applaud the Lord's Prayer--it would have been sacrilege. And they
+all felt it--down to the lowest. There was a long minute of reverent
+silence, no sound from all that great throng--it seems to me, an
+enemy, that it was the most perfect tribute that has ever been paid by
+any people to any orator."
+
+The boy, lifting his hand from his brother's shoulder to mark the
+effect of his brother's words, saw with surprise that in the strange
+lawyer's eyes were tears. But the wounded man did not notice.
+
+"It will live, that speech. Fifty years from now American schoolboys
+will be learning it as part of their education. It is not merely my
+opinion," he went on. "Warrington says the whole country is ringing
+with it. And you haven't read it? And your name's Lincoln? Warry, boy,
+where's the paper Nellie left? I'll read the speech to Mr. Lincoln
+myself."
+
+The boy had sprung to his feet and across the room, and had lifted
+a folded newspaper from the table. "Let me read it, Carter--it might
+tire you."
+
+The giant figure which had crouched, elbows on knees, in the shadows
+by the narrow hospital cot, heaved itself slowly upward till it loomed
+at its full height in air. Lincoln turned his face toward the boy
+standing under the flickering gas-jet and reading with soft, sliding
+inflections the words which had for twenty-four hours been gall and
+wormwood to his memory. And as the sentences slipped from the lad's
+mouth, behold, a miracle happened, for the man who had written them
+knew that they were great. He knew then, as many a lesser one has
+known, that out of a little loving-kindness had come great joy; that
+he had wrested with gentleness a blessing from his enemy.
+
+"'Fourscore and seven years ago,'" the fresh voice began, and the
+face of the dying man stood out white in the white pillows, sharp with
+eagerness, and the face of the President shone as he listened as if to
+new words. The field of yesterday, the speech, the deep silence which
+followed it, all were illuminated, as his mind went back, with new
+meaning. With the realization that the stillness had meant, not
+indifference, but perhaps, as this generous enemy had said, "The most
+perfect tribute ever paid by any people to any orator," there came
+to him a rush of glad strength to bear the burdens of the nation. The
+boy's tones ended clearly, deliberately:
+
+"'We here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain,
+that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and
+that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not
+perish from the earth.'"
+
+There was deep stillness in the hospital ward as there had been
+stillness on the field of Gettysburg. The soldier's voice broke it.
+"It's a wonderful speech," he said. "There's nothing finer. Other men
+have spoken stirring words, for the North and for the South, but never
+before, I think, with the love of both breathing through them. It is
+only the greatest who can be a partisan without bitterness, and only
+such to-day may call himself not Northern or Southern, but American.
+To feel that your enemy can fight you to death without malice, with
+charity--it lifts country, it lifts humanity to something worth dying
+for. They are beautiful, broad words and the sting of war would be
+drawn if the soul of Lincoln could be breathed into the armies. Do
+you agree with me?" he demanded abruptly, and Lincoln answered slowly,
+from a happy heart.
+
+"I believe it is a good speech," he said.
+
+The impetuous Southerner went on: "Of course, it's all wrong from
+my point of view," and the gentleness of his look made the words
+charming. "The thought which underlies it is warped, inverted, as I
+look at it, yet that doesn't alter my admiration of the man and of his
+words. I'd like to put my hand in his before I die," he said, and the
+sudden, brilliant, sweet smile lit the transparency of his face like
+a lamp; "and I'd like to tell him that I know that what we're all
+fighting for, the best of us, is the right of our country as it is
+given us to see it." He was laboring a bit with the words now as if
+he were tired, but he hushed the boy imperiously. "When a man gets so
+close to death's door that he feels the wind through it from a larger
+atmosphere, then the small things are blown away. The bitterness
+of the fight has faded for me. I only feel the love of country, the
+satisfaction of giving my life for it. The speech--that speech--has
+made it look higher and simpler--your side as well as ours. I would
+like to put my hand in Abraham Lincoln's--"
+
+The clear, deep voice, with its hesitations, its catch of weakness,
+stopped short. Convulsively the hand shot out and caught at the great
+fingers that hung near him, pulling the President, with the strength
+of agony, to his knees by the cot. The prisoner was writhing in an
+attack of mortal pain, while he held, unknowing that he held it, the
+hand of his new friend in a torturing grip. The door of death had
+opened wide and a stormy wind was carrying the bright, conquered
+spirit into that larger atmosphere of which he had spoken. Suddenly
+the struggle ceased, the unconscious head rested in the boy's arms,
+and the hand of the Southern soldier lay quiet, where he had wished to
+place it, in the hand of Abraham Lincoln.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Perfect Tribute
+by Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews
+
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