604
THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.
throve under their generous influence, and worked early and late that they should not be disappointed in their little protegee. They decided to give me an order for a bust in marble, and I chose President Lincoln for my subject. Senator Nesmith, General Morehead and Reverdy Johnson called upon the President, asking him to sit to me. At first he positively declined, saying he “ was tired sitting for his likeness, and he couldn’t imagine why any one wanted to make a likeness of such a homely man.” Finding him firm in his refusal they arose to leave, Senator Nesmith remarking, “ This will be a disappointment to the young artist who selected you as her subject. She is a little western girl, born in Wisconsin. She is poor, and has talent, and we intend to encourage her in this work, in which we feel she will excel, by giving her an order for a bust in marble.” Almost before Senator Nesmith had finished, President Lincoln turned abruptly, and in a high key exclaimed: “ She is poor, is she? Well, that’s noth- ing against her. Why don’t you bring that girl up here? I’ll sit to her for my bust; ” and so it was, the great heart which vanity could not unlock opened with the sympathy that recalled to him his own youth; his battle with poverty; his ambition; his early struggles. So it was that I, a little unknown sculptor, born in Wisconsin, and a stranger to fame, was allowed the privilege of modeling from life the features of this great man. When these gentlemen took me to the White House and presented me to Mr. Lincoln, his kind face lighting up, he exclaimed: “Why, this is the very same little girl who came to me last week and received permission from me to visit her rebel relative at the Old Capitol Prison! Why, we are old friends. Now, let’s measure and see which is the tallest; ” and it was thus I was welcomed. Sometimes at these sittings his face wore that look of anxiety and pain which will come to one accustomed to grief. At other times he would have that far-away, dreamy look, which seemed to presage the tragic fate awaiting him; and again, those quiet eyes lighting up, a radiance almost Divine would suffuse the sunken cheeks, and the whole face would be illuminated with the impulse of some Divine purpose. Often he would go to the south window and, seated there, remain a long time with his face turned away; then, hastily brushing away the tears from his eyes, he would say, “ I was thinking of Willie.” He was still suffering from the blow of that child’s death, while great affairs convulsed the nation, and he hardly dared to take the time for personal grief.
So lately had I seen and known President Lincoln, that I was still under the spell of his kind eyes and genial presence when the terrible blow of his assassination came and shook the civilized world. The terror, the horror, that fell upon the whole community has never been equaled. Terrible as this was, who can say that it was not the best for Lincoln’s fame that he died just then, for its measure was full? Yet in the trying years that followed he was sorely needed. Maturing late in life, he was at his best when struck down, and had in his heart and mind great reservoirs of usefulness. His hand of steel and heart of kindness had guided us safely so far through the dark waters, and our ablest mediator, he might, from his gentle, forgiving and humane nature, have evolved plans of peace and reconciliation which would have more quickly, more firmly and more closely bound the estranged ones together. But God planned this Universe, and “ He doeth all things well,” though the Nation’s leader and the South’s best friend had been slain. He lay there, dead, in the rotunda of the Capitol, with white face and speechless lips, but mightier in death even than in life! The Nation bowed its head and wept! The voice of those who had maligned him was silent. A spell was laid upon the lips of men to do him reverence. He had been the best friend of the North and the best friend of the South. His zeal had been unflagging, his patriotism exalted above all thought of self. His power had been almost unbounded, and how had he used it? “With charity for all, with malice toward none.” He had sworn to protect the honor of the Government, and history will tell how well he kept that oath; and yet while he guarded the sanctuary of its honor with fire and with sword, he wept that any should suffer.
When, soon after, Congress appropriated money to erect a marble statue of the