Touched by Greatness
Careen Tilghman was not like most children; she saw things others did not see. By the time she was an adolescent, she learned not to make her visions known. It upset her parents when her strange predictions came true, which more often than not they did. Oddly enough, her premonitions always concerned the lives of other people. It was not until she was a married woman living in the small Pennsylvania town of Stroudsburg that she had a vision of her own future.
"We're going to have a son," she announced six months after her wedding.
"I didn't even know you were with child!" her husband exclaimed, delighted at the news.
"I'm not—not yet anyway."
"You had another one of your episodes?" Eli Tilghman asked, feeling the familiar discomfort his wife's clairvoyance always caused him.
"Yes. We're going to have a fine, healthy boy. Furthermore, he is destined for greatness!"
It was hard for Eli to imagine the son of a simple wheelwright from Stroudsburg being born into greatness, but then he was not the one with the gift for seeing the future.
Two years later, in August of 1845, Careen went into labor. As she had predicted, the tiny infant she bore was a boy, one she and Eli named Jeremiah.
"I told you it would be a son," she said to her husband once the painful ordeal of childbirth was over.
"And you were right, as usual."
"He'll be a great man one day, for in my vision an angel told me he would be touched by greatness."
"What will he do?" Eli asked.
"I don't know exactly, but I see a vision of the White House in his future."
The father's heart nearly burst with pride and excitement. Would his son someday rise to the highest office in the country? Eli's grandfather had fought in the Revolutionary War. Would the Tilghman family go from patriot to president in just four generations?
Eli kept close watch over his son as the child grew up. While he had always trusted the veracity of his wife's presentiments, he frequently thought she was wrong about the boy. There was nothing about Jeremiah that stood out as being a sign of future preeminence. His grades were no better than those of other boys his age, nor was he physically stronger or more mechanically inclined than his peers. The father loved his child with all his heart, but unlike his wife, he saw him as just an ordinary little boy.
Maybe in this case, Careen's maternal feelings clouded her vision, he thought.
Although his mother frequently reminded Jeremiah of the wonderful future that lay ahead of him, the boy paid little attention to her strange glimpses into the future. He did not want to be great; he wanted to be like his friends, just another boy from Monroe County, destined to marry a local girl, have a home and a family and, when death claimed him, lie peacefully in Stroudsburg Cemetery.
Despite her son's apparent lack of ambition, Careen adamantly insisted he was born for greatness. What her psychic gift failed to reveal to her, and what her husband and son did not anticipate, was that when Jeremiah Tilghman turned sixteen the United States would face its darkest hour.
* * *
Like his ancestor who fought against the British in the war for independence, Jeremiah was willing to fight for his country when the Civil War broke out. It was permissible at that time for a man to pay a substitute to fight in his place, and in the summer of 1862 the young man from Stroudsburg enlisted in the army as a substitute for another Monroe County man.
As was the case with other mothers in the past and those that would come in the future, Careen was distraught when she learned of her son's enlistment.
"You can't go off to battle," she cried. "You might be killed."
"It's a possibility all soldiers face," Jeremiah replied matter-of-factly.
"But you're different. You'll have it within you to be an important man someday."
"Yes, mother," her son said, cleverly using her own argument against her. "Look at George Washington. He fought in the army, and he went on to become our first president. You must admit there's been no greater American than President Washington."
It had never occurred to Careen that her son's path to illustriousness would lead him through a bloody battlefield. After all, her premonition had not been very specific. It was quite possible that the young man's destiny would be forged in the horrors of war. Reluctantly, she gave her blessing.
"Promise me you'll be careful!" she cried the day her son left Stroudsburg. "Try not to get shot."
"Well, I certainly won't deliberately step in front of a bullet," the young soldier laughed.
Careen's fears of her son's dying in battle proved to be unfounded. When Jeremiah arrived in North Carolina, he contracted typhoid fever. Too ill to fight, he was honorably discharged from the army in the spring of 1863 and sent home to recuperate.
Just weeks after the former Union soldier returned to Stroudsburg, one hundred and fifty miles away in Adams County, the battle of Gettysburg was fought. Although it was a clear victory for the North, people in Pennsylvania were troubled. Up until that point, the fighting had been confined to the Southern states. For the first time, the war was being fought in their own back yard.
"I'm going to Washington," Jeremiah announced after hearing the news.
Eli Tilghman was already there, working as a carpenter in the navy yard.
"That's a wonderful idea!" Careen exclaimed, remembering glimpsing the White House in her vision. "It's where you were always destined to be."
* * *
President Lincoln was faced with a predicament. Despite its defeat at Gettysburg, Lee's army continued to fight. The war was still dragging on, and the Union Army was in need of additional men. Although the Militia Act of 1862 gave Lincoln the power to call for troops from the states, it was not until the Draft Act of 1863 was passed that the federal government could conscript soldiers. However, the draft was unpopular in Northern cities, and in New York protesters rioted in the streets for four days.
Hoping to encourage men to volunteer for service, Lincoln urged all those who were unable to fight by reason of age or physical condition to find someone to serve in their stead. He then called for Noble D. Larner, head of the third ward draft club.
"What can I do for you, Mr. President?" Larner asked.
"I want you to find a substitute to fight in my place."
"But as president, you're the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces. Surely you don't have to pay for a substitute since you are already serving your country in that capacity."
"If I expect this plan to succeed," the president insisted, "I must set an example."
"All right, sir. I'm sure I can find someone willing to enlist on your behalf."
When Larner left the White House, who should he encounter walking down Pennsylvania Avenue but Eli and Jeremiah Tilghman.
"You look like a fine, healthy young man," Larner said to Jeremiah. "How is it you're not in the army?"
"Until recently I was with the 176th Pennsylvania Infantry. After coming down with typhoid fever, I was honorably discharged and sent home."
"I don't suppose you'd consider re-enlisting. Your country needs all the men it can get."
"I've been working with my father at the navy yard, so I am helping with the war effort."
Larner then explained the mission the president had given him.
"You want me to be a substitute for Abraham Lincoln?" Jeremiah asked with astonishment.
The young man then turned to his father and asked his opinion.
"He's the President of the United States," Eli declared. "How can you say no, especially at a time like this?"
"What about Ma? What will she think?"
"You know your mother, son. She'll think that it's the next milestone in your road to greatness."
The two men laughed, enjoying a tender father-and-son moment.
"All right, sir. I'll be Mr. Lincoln's substitute."
Noble Larner then escorted the two men into the White House where they met with a surprised president.
"You certainly move fast," the Commander-in-Chief told Larner. "Would to God my generals would have acted so swiftly, the war might have been over by now!"
Lincoln then walked over to Jeremiah and shook his hand.
"You are doing me and your country a tremendous service, young man."
"It is my honor, sir."
The president reached into his pocket and withdrew sixty dollars.
"I'm afraid this is all the money I have on me," he apologized.
"You don't need to pay me, sir."
"I insist! I now have officially paid for a substitute."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
Lincoln then walked over to Eli Tilghman and shook his hand as well.
"Sir, I am a father myself. Mrs. Lincoln and I were blessed with four sons, and the Lord has seen fit to take two of them from us already. It is my sincere hope that your son survives the war and comes back to you soon."
* * *
On April 9, 1865, Confederate General Robert E. Lee surrendered the Army of Northern Virginia to Union General Ulysses S. Grant at the home of Wilmer McLean in Appomattox Court House, Virginia. Although fighting would continue west of the Mississippi for several more months, the war was all but lost for the South.
No sooner did he hear the news of Lee's surrender than Jeremiah Tilghman, still serving in the Union Army, received an unexpected invitation to the White House. After presenting himself at the gate, he was taken to the president's office, overlooking the Potomac and the incomplete Washington Monument. Lincoln sat at his desk, alone in the room.
"You sent for me, Mr. President?"
When the chief executive picked his head up, the young soldier was stunned by how much he had aged since the last time they met.
"Private Tilghman, you look well. I'm glad to see you haven't come to any harm. Won't you have a seat?"
"Thank you, sir."
"Your father and mother, are they well, too?"
"Yes, they are, Mr. President. Thank you for asking. Like everyone else, they're relieved that Lee surrendered."
"It was welcome news," Lincoln agreed. "I suppose you're wondering why I asked to see you."
"Yes, I am."
"I'm afraid I have another favor to ask of you."
"Anything I can do for you, Mr. President."
Lincoln leaned back in his chair and proceeded to explain his reason for sending for Jeremiah.
"The night before last I retired very late. I had been up waiting for important dispatches from the front. I could not have been long in bed when I fell into a slumber, for I was weary. I soon began to dream. There seemed to be a death-like stillness about me. Then I heard subdued sobs, as if a number of people were weeping. I thought I left my bed and wandered downstairs. There the silence was broken by the same pitiful sobbing, but the mourners were invisible. I went from room to room; no living person was in sight, but the same mournful sounds of distress met me as I passed along. I saw light in all the rooms; every object was familiar to me. But where were all the people who were grieving as if their hearts would break? I was puzzled and alarmed. What could be the meaning of all this? Determined to find the cause of a state of things so mysterious and so shocking, I kept on until I arrived at the East Room, which I entered. There I met with a sickening surprise. Before me was a catafalque, on which rested a corpse wrapped in funeral vestments. Around it were stationed soldiers who were acting as guards; and there was a throng of people, gazing mournfully upon the corpse, whose face was covered, others weeping pitifully. 'Who is dead in the White House?' I demanded of one of the soldiers. 'The President,' was his answer. Then came a loud burst of grief from the crowd, which woke me from my dream. I slept no more that night; and although it was only a dream, I have been strangely annoyed by it ever since."
"No doubt, you've been under great stress, sir. It's no wonder you've had a nightmare."
Lincoln was silent for some time, gazing out the window as if looking into the future.
"I fear it is more than a harmless dream. I believe it is a premonition that I will be a casualty of this war."
"I'm sure it's nothing that serious, Mr. President."
Jeremiah then told Lincoln about his mother's belief in portents.
"She is still convinced I was born to be great," he concluded with a sentimental smile.
"You're what, twenty years old? You have a lot of years ahead of you. Your mother's prediction may come true yet."
"I suppose it's possible," Jeremiah said with little conviction.
The president looked at the private's face. His clean-shaven features were those of a boy. He was so young. On the other hand, at fifty-six, Lincoln felt old beyond his years.
"Two years ago, Mr. Larner brought you into this office, and I asked you to serve in the army on my behalf. You have done so honorably, and I appreciate your service."
Lincoln took a sheet of paper off his desk and handed it to Jeremiah.
"What is this, sir?"
"That's your discharge paper."
"But I still have time remaining on my enlistment. And even though Lee surrendered, the fighting is not yet over."
"I am the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces. I assure you I have the authority to discharge you from your military obligation."
"I'm aware of that, Mr. President. But why?"
"Because I want you to be my substitute once again."
A look of confusion clouded the boy's face.
"I don't understand. Do you want to discharge me so that I will then re-enlist?"
"No. I want you to go home to Pennsylvania. It's my sincere hope that when you do, you find a young woman that makes you happy, that the two of you marry and have a family. I want you to live in peace and enjoy what time you have left on this earth."
Jeremiah was perplexed by the president's words.
"I know I won't live to see peace restored to this great nation of ours," Lincoln concluded. "I want you to do that for me."
When Jeremiah returned to Stroudsburg, Careen had mixed feelings about his homecoming. As a mother, she was delighted her son was alive and well, but she also felt he had deviated from his path to greatness.
"Even if you were discharged from the army, there was no reason to come back to Pennsylvania. You could have remained in Washington where there are more opportunities for a man like you. What will you be here, a wheelwright like your father?"
"I don't know yet," he admitted truthfully. "I just got back home. I haven't had much time to make any decisions."
"But your destiny ...."
Her husband interrupted her midsentence.
"Let the boy make his own plans for the future," Eli said. "If he is truly to be touched by greatness, then it will find him in Stroudsburg the same as it would find him in Washington."
Careen was prepared to argue the point, but then Waldo Besecker, a close neighbor, suddenly rode up on his horse.
"Eli," the man called from outside the house. "Are you home?"
"I'm here," the senior Tilghman said, stepping out onto the porch. "Just spending time with my son."
"I heard Jeremiah was back. Glad he came home in one piece."
"Thank you," the ex-private said when he joined his father on the porch steps.
"You want to come inside?" Eli asked.
"No, I just stopped by to see if you heard the news," Waldo said.
"What news is that?"
"Lincoln's been shot. He and his wife went to see a play at Ford's Theater, and an actor named John Wilkes Booth shot him."
Careen, who had overheard the neighbor's words, came running outside.
"Is the president all right?" she cried.
"No, ma'am. He took a bullet in the head. He died the next morning."
Upon hearing the news, Careen swooned. Thankfully, her husband caught her before she hit the ground. He took her inside and laid her on the couch as Jeremiah went to the well to fetch a pitcher of water. When Eli put a damp cloth on his wife's forehead, her eyes fluttered open.
"Here, drink this," Jeremiah said, handing his mother a glass of water.
"Is it true?" she asked, pushing aside the glass. "Is Lincoln really dead?"
"Yes, he is," Besecker replied.
Careen was inconsolable. Neither her husband nor her son could stop her pitiable sobbing.
"I never saw Ma so upset," Jeremiah observed when the three men went outside, leaving the grieving woman to cry in the privacy of the living room.
"She'll get over it," Eli predicted.
"I didn't realize your missus was such a Lincoln supporter," Waldo said.
"She isn't," her husband replied, revealing a deep understanding of his wife's mind. "Those tears aren't for the president."
"Who are they for then?"
It was Jeremiah who answered.
"For me. I think she sees Lincoln's death as my opportunity for greatness slipping away."
"You talking about one of those visions your Ma used to have when she was a young'un?"
"Yup. She said she got a sign that I was to be touched by greatness."
Waldo Besecker mounted his horse, scratched his head and said, "I never did set much store in that sort of thing. I best be goin' now."
Eli and his son bid the neighbor farewell and watched him gallop away. Neither of them made any attempt to go back into the house.
* * *
Careen Tilghman never fully recovered from the shock of the president's death and what she believed it meant to her son's future. On that grim April day, she sank into a deep depression from which she never emerged. By October, she was dead.
Within a year of his mother's passing, Jeremiah married a young woman from nearby Tannersville, and with financial assistance from Eli, the couple opened a tavern in Stroudsburg. The former Union Army private never returned to Washington or even journeyed beyond the boundaries of Monroe County. In short, he never achieved the lofty position his mother had wanted for him.
Decades after Lincoln's assassination, a middle-aged Jeremiah and his ailing, elderly father stood before Careen's grave.
"Your mother was a fine woman," Eli lovingly declared.
"That she was," his son agreed. "I often regret being such a disappointment to her."
"What nonsense! Both your mother and I were damned proud of you. You were always a good son. Now, you're a loving husband and father as well. An honest, hard-working man, respected by everyone in town."
"But I never achieved the greatness she wanted for me."
"I've always pondered the words your mother said after she gave birth to you. She told me an angel appeared to her and claimed you would be touched by greatness. That vision came true. You were touched by one of the greatest men of our time—or of any time."
"You're referring to President Lincoln."
"When he asked you to fight for him, no doubt your mother expected Lincoln to show his gratitude by promoting you on the battlefield or giving you an important job in the capital."
"Instead, he wanted me to come home," Jeremiah said, "to live in peace and be happy for whatever years I have left."
"He knew he was going to die," Eli theorized, "but he saw to it that you were given the chance to be live."
Jeremiah hugged his father for the first time since he was a child.
"Ma may have had the gift of visions, but you have the gift of understanding."
Eli smiled and hugged his son back. He didn't tell him that, like his wife and the fallen president, he had also had a premonition. Before the week was out, he would be buried in Stroudsburg Cemetery beside Careen. He was not afraid of death. It was something that happened to all of us—to the young and old, the wealthy and poor, the mighty and meek. For not even a great man like Abraham Lincoln could get a substitute to take his place when Death came calling.
This fictional story is inspired by events in the life of John Summerfield Staples, a young man from Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, who served as Abraham Lincoln's substitute during the Civil War. As for the description of Lincoln's prophetic dream, Ward Hill Lamon, a friend of the president, claimed these were the words Lincoln spoke three days prior to his assassination.
Salem volunteered to be Morris's substitute when the famous 9 Lives cat went on vacation.
