Although he had surrounded himself politically with those who had
opposed him and wished for his nation to be open to all men and all
views, the president was acutely aware of that political incompetence
meant wounded soldiers and dead men. His heart was filled with quiet
grieving, and the Great War never left his heart for a moment.
“To even have a healthy son reach adulthood was a miracle of God,” he
reflected. “So many epidemics of flu or cases of consumption. Even a
body soaked with rain on a wintry day might be lost by nightfall.”
So
that some of the city’s young bucks dreamed of the ‘battle cry’ and
fighting to prove their manhood angered him deep in his soul. That the
young people romanticized war gave him lingering sadness. If only they
saw what he had seen. Brothers in battle together – one kneeling over
his dying loved on. And no grieving, they say, can compare to a parent
who has lost a son. He had Todd, and he knew what the all encompassing
love of a father could be. Protective and tender at the same time.
And how cruel men and nature could be to the human flesh. Some was
Fate. War was choice. He was determined to end the War as quickly as he
could. Send just one son home to his Mama - one son who might never have
had a chance on the battlefield. It would be worth one son - whole and
well.
So much rested on the integrity and capabilities of the
men he chose for his Cabinet. His leaders must be of the highest
caliber. Strong, fearless and true. They must be understanding of his
people, their children, and the future of a great nation. Everything was
at stake now. Of the Cabinet he had chosen, some were from different
states and had different backgrounds. He liked that about them. He chose
them by looking closely at their military records, their letters of
accommodation, and by reading their characters. He tried not to miss
anything. As president he could not control much, but he could
hand-select his men who would make national decisions. That was his job.
The destiny of a nation at War depended on it. He must not fail his
people.
When he was younger the Illinois lawyer had met with
one obstacle after another. Some eight at least, he reflected. Many
elections lost. To others he seemed like a complete failure. But in each
political skirmish he had learned to look at people closely and assess
their nuances of personality. So their behavior or decisions would never
surprise him. He knew more about some people than they knew about
themselves, but he kept his own council. He studied the ancient system
of physiognomy (Face Reading). Ten feet from a prospective juror or
witness in a trial, he could turn the fate of a legal outcome. Lincoln
could laugh and weave a good story with the best of them, but inside he
had the instincts of a cougher. He looked at people and saw them –
beyond artifices, fancy verbiage and fine clothes. He would laugh at a
child’s story and shun an arrogant general.
One afternoon as
his Cabinet assembled in the White House, the sun’s hot fierceness
poured through the room. Men were loosening their neck clothes and
removing their bulky jackets, wiping their forehead with large white
hankies. All stood as Lincoln entered the room. His hands rose palms
down to motion them to be seated.
“I understand that today we
are reviewing the application for Lt. James McNeed, who wishes to be
Secretary of the Treasury. Will those of you who have letters of
accommodation, military files and written testimonials abut him, please
step forward.” Lincoln seated himself behind the mahogany desk and
opened his right hand to receive the papers. Letters from Generals,
teachers, red wax sealed missives about Lt. McNeed were handed over. The
pile was so high that by the time Lincoln had read them all, the sun
was setting. The men were eager to get into their carriages and return
home to their wives and dinners.
“Well,” Lincoln began, “he
seems an ideal candidate form these dossiers. His war record is
impeccable, and I can find no fault with anything I have read about this
man. Let us meet him now, so we might to return to a quiet evening with
our families. Bring Lt. James McNeed to me please.”
The side
door opened, and the attending army aide ushered a man in uniform into
the room. He came to stand directly in front of Abraham Lincoln. The
president’s gaze was powerful and searching as he regarded the officer.
Lincoln was reviewing McNeed’s facial features, as system called Face
Reading, which he had learned when he was a young lawyer. It helped him
to accurately read a person’s character. In his mind, Lincoln made note
of Lt. McNeed's features: a dimpled chin that was short, a chin which
receded back to tuck behind forward thrusting front teeth, an uneven
forehead hairline, a tiny, tight mouth (that looked like a man set on a
vinegar drink), strange ears which protruded out from his head at odd
angles, a mouth that upturned like a joker (but McNeed wasn’t smiling),
and a thick unibrow eyebrow. The president reflected that he looked like
a rat. And then Lincoln remembered the words of Aristotle, the first
great scholar in science of physiognomy: “If you look like an animal,
you are it!” (You will have the temperament of that animal.)
What was curious about Mr. McNeed, Lincoln thought, was that as he
answered each direct question, his eyes would shift, almost retract
visibly. Then they would become clear and present. It seemed to happen
when the questions involved his military record. Lincoln had learned to
recognize this eye change as “cloaking,” and he had seen it often in
spies of all sorts. The president paced up and down, his head down and
reflective before his men.
He made his decision and turned to the group, “Please leave us, Mr. McNeed.”
And after the man disappeared down the corridor, Lincoln turned to the
curious Cabinet members and said, “I don’t want this man anywhere close
to me.” Lincoln pounded his open flat hand onto his desk as the
astonished group gasped and was riveted to attention. “Show me a man who
is forty who is not responsible for his face.” With that he pulled in
his vest and with long strides left the room.
Weeks later a
news bulletin emerged from a Border state with an artist’s rendering of
an escaped convict, Walter McNeed, who had been incarcerated for killing
his brother, Lt. James McNeed, and stealing his military papers. The
murdered brother, Lt. James McNeed had been a valiant soldier, decorated
in battle. And for those who studied the facial drawing closely, the
man who had stood before Lincoln had been none other than Walter McNeed.
(c) Copyright, Barbara Roberts, 2011. All rights reserved.
