Lincoln in the Bardo(44)
the reverend everly thomas
But then we saw that it was not fear at all.
The wall behind him had liquefied, and tendrils had come forth, and four or five now encircled his waist: a hideous crawling belt, holding him fast.
roger bevins iii
We needed time, to get him free.
hans vollman
Must somehow delay the gentleman’s departure.
the reverend everly thomas
I looked at Mr. Bevins.
He looked at me.
hans vollman
We saw what must be done.
roger bevins iii
We had the power. To persuade.
hans vollman
Had done it, even within the hour.
roger bevins iii
Mr. Bevins was younger, possessed of multiple (very strong) arms; whereas I, naked and constantly interfered with by my massive disability, was not well-suited to the strenuous labor that would be required to free the lad.
So in I went, into Mr. Lincoln, alone.
hans vollman
LXIX.
And Lord the fellow was low.
He was attempting to formulate a goodbye, in some sort of positive spirit, not wishing to enact that final departure in gloom, in case it might be felt, somehow, by the lad (even as he told himself that the lad was now past all feeling); but all within him was sadness, guilt, and regret, and he could find little else. So he lingered, hoping for some comforting notion to arise, upon which he might expand.
But nothing came.
Low, colder than before, and sadder, and when he directed his mind outward, seeking the comfort of his life out there, and the encouragement of his future prospects, and the high regard in which he was held, no comfort was forthcoming, but on the contrary: he was not, it seemed, well thought of, or succeeding in much of anything at all.
hans vollman
LXX.
As the dead piled up in unimaginable numbers and sorrow was added to sorrow, a nation that had known little of sacrifice blamed Lincoln for a dithering mismanagement of the war effort.
In “The Unpopular Mr. Lincoln: The Story of America’s Most Reviled President,” by Larry Tagg.
The Presdt is an idiot.
In “The Civil War Papers of George B. McClellan,” edited by Stephen Sears.
Vain, weak, puerile, hypocritical, without manners, without social grace, and as he talks to you, punches his fists under your ribs.
In “The War Years,” by Carl Sandburg, account of Sherrard Clemens.
Evidently a person of very inferior cast of character, wholly unequal to the crisis.
In “The Emergence of Lincoln: Prologue to the Civil War, 1859–1861,” by Allan Nevins, account of Edward Everett.
His speeches have fallen like a wet blanket here. They put to flight all notions of greatness.
Tagg, op. cit., account of Congressman Charles Francis Adams.
By all odds, the weakest man who has ever been elected.
Clemens, op. cit.
Will go down to posterity as the man who could not read the signs of the times, nor understand the circumstances and interests of his country…who had no political aptitude; who plunged his country into a great war without a plan; who failed without excuse, and fell without a friend.
Tagg, op. cit., from the London “Morning Post.”
The people have, for nineteen months, poured out, at your call, sons, brothers, husbands & money.—What is the result?—Do you ever realize that the desolation, sorrow, grief that pervades this country is owing to you?—that the young men who have been maimed, crippled, murdered, & made invalids for life, owe it to your weakness, irresolution, & want of moral courage?
Tagg, op. cit., letter from S. W. Oakey.
The money flows out, tens of thousands of men wait, are rearranged to no purpose, march pointlessly over expensive bridges thrown up for the occasion, march back across the same bridges, which are then torn down. And nothing whatsoever is accomplished.
In “Letters of a Union Fellow,” by Tobian Clearly.
If you don’t Resign we are going to put a spider in your dumpling and play the Devil with you you god or mighty god dam sundde of a bith go to hell and buss my Ass suck my prick and call my Bolics your uncle Dick god dam a fool and goddam Abe Lincoln who would like you goddam you excuse me for using such hard words with you but you need it you are nothing but a goddam Black nigger.
In “Dear Mr. Lincoln,” edited by Harold Holzer.
If my wife wishes to leave me, may I compel her at arms to stay in our “union”? Especially when she is a fiercer fighter than I, better organized, quite determined to be free of me?
In “Voices of a Divided Land,” edited by Baines and Edgar, account of P. Mallon.
Line up the corpses; walk from end to end; look upon each father, husband, brother, son; total up the cost that way, and think (as our military men, quizzed upon this confidentially, all do) that this grim line of ruined futures is only the beginning of the tidal wave of young death that must soon befall us.
In the Allentown “Field-Gazette.”
Peace, sir, make peace: the cry of man since at least our Savior’s time. Why ignore it now? Blessed are the peacemakers, the Scriptures say, and we must assume the converse also to be true: Cursed are the war-mongers, however just they believe their cause.
In the Cleveland “Truth-Sentinel.”
We did not & will not Agree to fite for the Neygar, for whom we do not give a wit.