STODDARD 


IS! 


^■<V\K 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

The  Institute  of  Museum  and  Library  Services  through  an  Indiana  State  Library  LSTA  Grant 


http://www.archive.org/details/insidewhitehouseOOstod 


5V 


,iPrftf 


I  WISH  I  WAS  IN  DIXIE,   LOOK  AWAY, 


Inside  the  White  House 
in  War  Times. 


BY 

WILLIAM  O.  STODDARD, 

One  of  the  President's  Private  Secretaries. 

Author  of  "Verses  of  Many  Days,"  "Dab  Kinzer,"  Etc. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  DAN  BEARD. 


NEW   YORK: 

CHARLES   L.  WEBSTER  &  CO. 

1890. 


Copyright,  1890, 
By  CHARLES  L.  WEBSTER  &  CO. 

(A II  rights  reserved.} 


PRESS  OF 

Jenkins  &  McCowan, 
New  York. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

PAGE 

Opening  the  Door,  .  .  .  .  -9 

CHAPTER  II. 
Persons  and  Papers,  23 

CHAPTER  III. 
Weapons  and  War  Ships,  .  „  .  •     37 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Gifts  and  Visitors,    .....          49 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Critics  and  the  Gamblers,  .  .  .62 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Bronzes  and  Earthworks,  .  .  .74 

CHAPTER   VII. 
The  Reception,     .  .  .  .  .  .86 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  Variety  of  Uniforms,       .  .  .  «  98 

CHAPTER   IX. 
The  Two  Chieftains,       .  .  .  .  .111 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Monitor  and  the  Union  League,     .  .        122 

vii 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    XI. 

PAGE 

The  Capitol  and  the  Future,  .  „  .134 

CHAPTER   XII. 
Sentries  and  Passes,  .  .  „  145 

CHAPTER   XIII. 
A  Battle  Summer,  .  .  .  „  .157 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
The  Echoes  of  the  Proclamation,  .  .        169 

CHAPTER    XV. 
Realities  and  the  Drama,        .  .  .  .181 

CHAPTER   XVI. 
A  Vigil  and  a  Victory,        .  .  .  .193 

CHAPTER   XVII. 
July  4TH,  1863,       ......  206 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 
The  Contrabands  and  the  New  Captain,  .        212 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
Pictures  and  Reports,  .....  223 

CHAPTER   XX. 
There  is  an  End  of  All  Things,  .  .  .        235 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"I  Wish  I  was  in  Dixie,  Look  Away,"  .     Frontispiece. 

"Stop  that  Firing!"            .            .  Facing  page  43 

The  Raid  Which  Did  Not  Come,        .  "         208 


Inside  the  White  House  in  War  Times. 


CHAPTER  I. 

OPENING  THE  DOOR. 


DEFORE  me  on  the  table  lies  a  small  brass  latch- 
*"*  key.  It  has  a  worn-out  look,  as  if  it  had  served 
its  time  and  had  been  honorably  discharged,  but  if 
it  had  a  tongue  few  other  keys  could  tell  so  notable 
a  history.  During  the  administrations  of  seventeen 
successive  Presidents  of  the  United  States,  it  opened 
the  front  door  of  the  Executive  Mansion  at  Washing- 
ton. The  lock  it  belonged  to  was  put  on  when  that 
house  was  built,  and  was  replaced  by  a  new  one  in 
the  time  of  President  Grant.  In  my  own  mind  and 
memory,  this  key  is  associated  with  the  years  which  I 
spent  in  and  about  the  White  House;  the  years  of 
Lincoln's  administration;  the  days  of  the  Civil  War; 
the  terrible  furnace  time,  during  which,  as  it  then  and 
ever  since  has  seemed  to  me,  the  old  nation  melted 
away  and  a  new  nation  was  moulded. 

This  is  the  year  1861,  and  although  it  is  so  early 
in  the  spring  the  weather  is  warm.  Suppose  we 
stroll  toward  the  White  House. 

9 


IO       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

The  short,  thin,  smiling,  humorous-looking  elderly 
Irishman  in  the  doorway  is  Old  Edward,  the  all  but 
historic  doorkeeper,  who  has  been  so  great  a  favorite 
through  so  many  administrations.  He  is  as  well 
liked  by  his  seventh  President  as  he  was  by  even 
General  Taylor.  There  is  no  end  of  quiet  fun  in  him 
as  well  as  intelligence,  and  his  other  name  is  Fidel- 
ity. He  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  man  met  in  the 
White  House  by  Mr.  Lincoln  who  succeeded  in 
making  him  laugh. 

"  Mr.  Secretary  " — and  he  is  holding  out  something 
upon  the  palm  of  his  open  hand — "  I've  been  getting 
some  new  latch-keys  for  the  young  gentlemen.  I 
don't  know  what's  become  of  the  keys  we  had. 
Maybe  they've  gone  South  and  mean  to  come  back, 
some  day,  and  open  the  door." 

Two  of  the  keys  are  bright  and  new,  but  one  is 
old  and  tarnished. 

"There's  one  for  Mr.  Nicolay,  and  one  for  Mr. 
Hay,  and  one  for  yourself.  That's  the  old  one,  that 
belonged  to  the  lock  when  it  was  put  on." 

"That's  the  key  I  want,  Edward.  Give  Nicolay 
and  Hay  the  new  ones." 

"  It's  like  meself — it  can  open  the  door  as  well  as 
ever  it  could,"  laughs  Old  Edward. 

We  have  the  key,  therefore,  and  we  can  go  into 
and  out  of  the  house  as  we  please. 

Americans  are  sufficiently  familiar  with  the  ex- 
ternal appearance  of  this  simple  white  oblong  struc- 
ture, built  upon  this  low  rise  of  ground  sloping  to  the 
Potomac.  Yonder,  westward,  are  the  dingy  old  War 
and  Navy  buildings.  Eastward  is  the  Treasury,  half 


OPENING   THE   DOOR.  II 

built,  part  old,  part  new,  and  beyond  it  lies  most  of  the 
city,  and  just  one  mile  distant,  in  that  direction,  is  the 
Capitol.  This  pillared  portico  and  covered  carriage- 
way, on  the  north  front  of  the  house  is  where  Lin- 
coln will  stand  in  a  few  days  to  review  the  first 
troops  that  are  coming  from  the  North.  The  seces- 
sionists hold  Baltimore  and  claim  Maryland,  and 
Washington  City  is  in  a  besieged  condition.  Its 
communications  with  the  rest  of  the  world  are  almost 
cut  off,  and  there  is  no  use  in  saying  how  easily  it 
might  be  captured  by  a  small  body  of  daring  men 
— Ethan  Aliens  of  the  Confederacy. 

A  sort  of  uncanny  glamour  seems  to  have  been 
settling  upon  the  city,  week  after  week.  It  has 
grown  under  the  shadow  of  the  tremendous  events 
which  are  to  come.  It  will  remain  long,  and  it  will 
not  entirely  depart  until  the  end  of  Andrew  John- 
son's term.  It  is  a  strange  and  shuddering  kind  of 
thing,  and  its  central,  darkest,  most  bewildering 
witchcraft  works  around  this  Executive  Mansion. 

The  stones  of  the  pavement  of  this  portico  are 
foot-worn  into  furrows,  and  every  furrow  is  a  kind 
of  historical  wrinkle.  There  !  When  you  try  it,  the 
door  opens  to  this  key,  now,  in  these  early  days  of 
the  Civil  War,  as  it  may  have  opened  to  it  in  the 
hands  of  Thomas  Jefferson  or  Andrew  Jackson. 

Within  the  doorway  there  is  a  mere  coop  of  a  lobby, 
and  beyond  that  is  an  ample  vestibule.  This  is  where 
they  sometimes  set  up  the  racks  for  hats  and  coats 
on  grand  reception  evenings.  All  along  through 
March,  after  the  inauguration,  this  was  one  of  the 
most  anxious  places  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  but  it 


12       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

was  not  at  all  on  account  of  the  Rebellion.  Men 
gathered  in  groups  up  and  down  the  walks,  outside, 
and  filled  the  portico,  and  there  was  anxiety  out 
there  ;  but  in  here  there  was  more  of  it,  for  the  crowd 
was  denser.  They  were  all  patriots  and  they  loved 
their  country  and  they  were  willing  to  serve  it,  here 
or  at  their  homes,  and  they  were  all  anxious  to  see 
the  President. 

This  door,  to  the  left,  leads  into  a  broad  entry- 
way.  That  flight  of  stairs  goes  up  to  the  business 
part  of  the  house.  That  is  the  door  of  the  great  East 
Room,  the  White  House  drawing-room.  There,  at 
the  heel  of  the  stairway,  is  the  place  for  the  Marine 
Band  to  sit  and  make  music  on  reception  evenings, 
but  no  band  could  have  found  any  footing  there  dur- 
ing that  first  rush  of  office-seekers.  The  greater 
part  of  each  day  the  East  Room  itself  was  thronged.. 
The  first  men  who  volunteered  for  the  defense  of  any 
part  of  Washington  were  a  full  battalion  of  these  very 
patriots  who  crowded  the  White  House.  They 
bravely  proposed  to  have  guns  furnished  them  and  to 
bivouac  in  the  East  Room  on  the  floor  all  night,  so 
they  would  be  here  in  the  morning,  first  thing,  ahead 
of  anybody  else,  with  their  muskets  stacked  around 
them,  and  with  better  chances  for  interviews  with 
Lincoln.  Those  were  exciting  days  when,  for  hours 
and  hours,  the  anterooms  and  halls  upstairs  were 
so  full  that  they  would  hold  no  more,  and  when  this 
broad  staircase  itself  was  also  packed  and  jammed, 
stair  by  stair,  from  top  to  bottom,  so  that  you  could 
hardly  squeeze  your  way  up  or  down.  It  was  all  cut 
short  by  one  of  Lincoln's  decrees.     He  decided  not 


OPENING   THE    DOOR.  1 3 

to  interfere  with  his  Cabinet  officers  in  the  selection 
of  their  clerks  and  other  subordinates.  As  he  ex- 
pressed it,  he  "ceased  to  have  any  influence  with 
this  Administration  "  in  the  matter  of  appointments 
to  minor  offices. 

The  East  Room  has  a  faded,  worn,  untidy  look,  in 
spite  of  its  frescoing  and  its  glittering  chandeliers. 
Its  paint  and  furniture  require  renewal;  but  so  does 
almost  everything  else  about  the  house,  within  and 
without.  Westward  from  the  East  Room,  facing 
south,  are  the  three  reception  rooms  —  the  Blue 
Room,  another,  and  the  Red  Room.  The  latter  is 
the  special  private  and  public  reception-room  of  the 
lady  of  the  White  House.  Between  these  and  the 
vestibule  runs  a  broad  hall,  from  the  East  Room  to 
the  entrance  of  the  State  Dining-room.  The  re- 
mainder of  this  floor,  westward,  belongs  to  family 
uses,  and  beyond  all,  without,  is  the  conservatory,  a 
respectable  affair,  and  containing  many  rare  and 
valuable  plants. 

The  anxious  throng  of  office-seekers  long  since 
dwindled  from  a  river  into  a  brook  of  manageable 
size.  There  is  nobody  at  all  here  this  morning,  and 
we  will  go  upstairs.  At  the  head  of  them  is  a  spa- 
cious entryway,  and  as  we  stand  here,  looking  south- 
ward, to  the  right  of  us  are  apartments  which  are 
used  as  sleeping-rooms,  but  which,  hereafter,  will  be 
turned  into  offices. 

This  fine  broad  hall  that  we  next  walk  into  runs 
the  entire  length  of  the  building,  east  and  west. 
Yonder,  across  the  hall,  is  a  large  room  which  serves 
as  a  citadel  and  place  of  refuge  for  Presidents  to  re- 


14       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

treat  into  when  they  are  too  severely  pressed  in 
their  own  business  office  adjoining,  on  the  east. 
Beyond  that,  in  the  southeastern  corner  of  the  house, 
is  the  private  secretary's  office,  occupied  now  by  Mr. 
Nicolay  and  his  immediate  assistant,  Mr.  Hay.  This 
large  chamber  on  the  north  side  of  the  hall  is  their 
sleeping-room.  The  northeastern  room,  next  to  it, 
a  narrow  room,  corresponding  to  Mr.  Nicolay's  office 
on  the  other  side  of  the  hall,  contains  three  desks. 
The  two  upright,  antiquated,  mahagony  structures 
in  the  further  corners  belong  to  Mr.  Hay.  This 
heavy-looking  table-desk  of  drawers,  green-clothed 
and  curiously  littered,  out  here  in  front  of  the  door, 
with  its  left  elbow  toward  the  fireplace,  is  to  be  yours 
through  several  years  to  come.  It  is,  in  some  re- 
spects, a  kind  of  breakwater,  and  the  duties  attached 
to  it  will  be  almost  entirely  separated  from  those 
performed  by  the  other  private  secretaries. 

We  have  a  good  reason  for  visiting  the  White 
House  so  very  early,  before  the  beginning  of  its  offi- 
cial business  hours. 

It  is  the  morning  of  the  12th  of  April,  1861,  and  at 
no  previous  date  has  the  cloud  hung  so  low  above 
the  White  House,  nor  has  the  air  here  and  through- 
out the  country  been  so  painfully  dense  with  doubt 
and  suspense,  and  with  the  dread  of  that  which  must 
surely  come.  The  Civil  War  really  began  long  ago, 
but  it  has  not  yet  been  wise  for  the  President  to  say 
as  much,  nor  to  ask  for  troops  to  carry  it  on  with. 
Leaving  the  northeast  room,  and  walking  westward 
along  the  hall,  it  seems  a  gloomy,  shadowy,  chilly 
corridor,  and  not  a  living-  soul  is  to  be  seen  in  it 


OPENING   THE   DOOR.  I  5 

The  hall  is  severed  here,  near  the  head  of  the  stairs, 
by  folding  doors,  but  they  are  wide  open.  Beyond, 
to  the  left,  in  the  middle,  is  the  very  pleasant  library, 
and  adjoining  it  is  the  chamber  in  which  Mr.  Lincoln 
will  one  day  lie,  sick  with  the  varioloid.  Then  come 
other  folding  doors,  and  behind  them  are  the  rooms 
of  the  family. 

A  remarkably  tall  and  forward-bending  form  is 
coming  through  the  further  folding  doors,  leaving 
them  carelessly  open  behind  him.  He  is  walking 
slowly,  heavily,  like  a  man  in  a  dream.  His  strong- 
ly marked  features  have  a  drawn  look,  there  are 
dark  circles  under  his  deep-set  eyes,  and  these  seem 
to  be  gazing  at  something  far  away,  or  into  the 
future. 

The  President  knows,  as  only  a  few  others  know, 
that  the  bombardment  of  Fort  Sumter,  in  the  harbor 
of  the  city  of  Charleston,  S.  C,  has  probably,  has 
almost  certainly,  begun  already,  although  positive 
official  information  of  the  fact  cannot  arrive  until  to- 
morrow. 

We  ourselves  have  no  idea  that  all  his  soul  is 
listening  for  the  Sumter  gun,  while  all  his  mind  is 
busy  with  its  consequences. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Lincoln." 

For  a  moment  he  stands  still,  looking  down  into 
your  face,  but  the  far-away  expression  of  his  own 
does  not  change.  He  may  be  looking,  prophetically, 
at  future  battlefields,  and  hearing  the  roar  of  other 
cannon  than  those  in  Charleston  harbor,  but  you  do 
not  understand,  and  you  exclaim,  in  astonishment: 

"Why,  Mr.  Lincoln  !  you  don't  seem  to  know  me  !" 


1 6       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  do,"  he  responds,  wearily.  "What 
is  it  ?  " 

"  I  wish  to  ask  a  favor." 

His  lips  contract  as  he  asks,  half  petulantly, 

"  Well,  well— what  is  it  ?  " 

Every  man,  almost,  that  he  is  meeting,  every  day 
and  all  day  long,  is  saying  about  the  same  thing. 

"  It's  just  this,  Mr.  Lincoln:  I  believe  there  is  go- 
ing to  be  fighting,  pretty  soon,  right  here,  and  I 
don't  feel  like  sitting  at  a  desk  in  the  Patent  Office, 
or  here,,  either,  while  any  fight  is  going  on.  I've 
been  serving  with  a  company  already,  and  if  it's 
ordered  on  duty  I  want  to  go  with  it " 

"  Well,  well,"  he  interrupts,  but  with  a  quickly 
brightening  face,  "  why  don't  you  go  ?  " 

"Why,  Mr.  Lincoln,  only  a  few  days  ago  I  took 
a  pretty  big  oath  to  obey  your  orders,  and  now  I'm 
likely  to  be  asked  to  take  another  to  obey  some- 
body else.  I  don't  see  how  I  can  manage  them 
both  without  your  permission.  I  may  be  ordered 
to  service  outside  of  the  District  of  Columbia " 

He  is  all  but  smiling  as  he  cuts  the  explanation 
short  with: 

"  Go  ahead  !  Go  ahead  !  Swear  in  !  Go  wherever 
you  are  ordered  to  go." 

"That's  all  I  want,  Mr.  Lincoln." 

You  have  turned  away,  but  he  has  called  you 
back,  and  he  says  to  you,  earnestly, 

"  Young  man,  go  just  where  you're  ordered.  Do 
your  duty.     You  won't  lose  anything  by  this  ! " 

A  memorable  morning  interview  with  Lincoln  is 
over,  but  it  will  seem,  at  a  later  day,  listening  back 


OPENING  THE   DOOR.  \J 

through  the  years,  as  if  the  roar  of  the  "  Sumter 
gun  "  broke  through  the  brooding,  ominous  silence 
almost  instantly.  You  will  know,  however,  that  the 
news  did  not  reach  Washington  until  the  next  day, 
the  13th;  that  the  proclamation  calling  for  troops 
went  out  on  Sunday,  the  14th;  and  that  while  the 
country  was  reading  it  in  the  papers  of  Monday 
morning,  the  15th,  the  first  company  of  volunteers 
that  was  mustered  in,  "  Company  A,  Third  Battal- 
ion," was  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  War  Office  to  be 
sworn,  and  that  you  became  a  three-months'  volun- 
teer private  soldier  by  special  permission  of  the 
President. 

There  is  an  accumulated  heap  of  land  patents, 
waiting  the  pen  of  a  secretary  to  sign  patents  for 
land.  They  are  old  affairs,  and  not  many  new  ones 
are  making  out  now,  and  your  entire  work  is  soon 
to  be  transferred  from  your  snug  office  in  the  Inte- 
rior Department  building  to  the  former  table-desk  in 
the  northeast  room. 

The  duties  of  a  private  in  Company  A  are  severe, 
but  furloughs  of  a  few  hours'  each  can  be  had,  now 
and  then,  to  sign  important  papers  or  to  make  flying 
visits  to  the  White  House.  Going  or  coming,  or  in 
camp,  or  on  guard  duty,  you  are  more  and  more 
convinced  that  all  the  young  women  of  Washing- 
ton, and  some  that  are  older,  know  more  or  less  how 
to  play  the  piano.  The  tone  of  the  piano-playing 
part  of  Washington  society,  moreover,  is  in  roman- 
tic sympathy  with  "  the  sunny  South,"  and  there 
is  a  perpetual  tinkle  of  the  favorite  secession  airs 
pouring  through  the  windows,  which  they  leave  open 


18       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

for  the  benefit  of  any  Northern  vandals  who  may 
happen  to  pass  within  hearing. 

The  first  favorite  of  all  is  "  Dixie's  Land,"  and  its 
music  has  sounded  almost  day  and  night  until  it  has 
taken  on  a  weird,  spell-like  influence,  and  it  seems 
a  part  and  a  voice  of  this  horrible  glamour  that 
sweeps  in  upon  the  souls  and  hearts  of  men.  It  fairly 
makes  one  shudder  to  have  that  tune  spring  out 
upon  him  when  he  least  expects  it.  A  little  behind 
"  Dixie,"  in  persistency  of  repetition,  are  the  "  Bon- 
nie Blue  Flag,"  and  "  Maryland,  my  Maryland." 

The  Pennsylvania  Fifth  has  arrived,  but  it  came 
without  any  muskets,  and  it  brought  no  music.  The 
New  York  Seventh  is  here,  and  the  Massachusetts 
Eighth,  and  the  blockade  of  Washington  is  broken 
through.  Splendid  bands,  fine  music,  a  magnificent 
river  of  steel  points  glittering  down  the  avenue,  but 
the  bands  play  only  commonplace  national  music, 
and  the  like.  Company  A  is  too  busy  to  more  than 
know  that  relief  has  come,  although  it  met  the  Sev- 
enth at  Annapolis  Junction;  but  to-day  the  New 
York  Twelfth  has  arrived,  and  is  forming  at  the  rail- 
way depot  near  the  Capitol,  and  the  orders  you  are 
obeying  will  take  you  with  them. 

Full  company  front,  in  excellent  drill,  perfect 
equipment,  bayonets  glittering,  flags  flying,  and  a 
brass  band  that  makes  a  rank  all  the  way  across 
the  avenue.  The  drums  beat,  and  your  heart  beats 
for  a  moment  as  the  gallant  boys  step  off.  What's 
that  ? 

"  I  wish  I  was  in  Dixie  !     Look  away  !" 

Hurrah  !  They  are  playing  as  if  for  a  wager,  and 


OPENING  THE   DOOR.  1$ 

the  cheering-  along1  the  thronged  sidewalks  answers 
uproariously.  Suddenly,  as  if  a  counter  spell  had 
been  uttered,  the  weird  and  mocking  power  has 
passed  away  from  the  boding  melody,  and  yet, 
somehow,  it  will  never  sound  to  you  like  any  other 
tune. 

We  are  half-way  down  the  avenue,  keeping  step 
with  the  Twelfth.  There  is  again  only  a  roll  of 
drums  for  a  moment,  and  then  that  blessed  band 
puts  all  its  musical  energies  into  the  "  Bonnie  Blue 
Flag,"  past  square  after  square.  On  sweeps  the 
splendid  regiment  until  it  wheels  around  the  Treas- 
ury corner  to  the  front  of  the  Executive  Mansion, 
and  pours  through  the  wide  gateway  to  pass  in  re- 
view before  the  waiting  President.  Again  the  music 
changes,  and  the  serried  ranks  swing  forward  to  the 
noble  cadences  of  "  Maryland,  my  Maryland,"  for 
Baltimore  has  been  occupied  by  General  Butler  and 
his  men,  and  the  National  Government  can  safely 
call  the  old  State  "mine." 

The  young  women  of  Washington  City  cease  play- 
ing "  Dixie."  They  shut  their  windows  and  mourn- 
fully declare  that  the  Yankees  have  stolen  even  the 
national  music  of  the  South.  Northern  or  Southern, 
we  are  none  of  us  altogether  sane  in  these  feverish, 
bewildered,  half-delirious  days,  but  cannot  a  fever 
be  cured  without  bleeding  the  patient  ? 

There  are  sanguine  people  who  express  that  kind 
of  hope  in  spite  of  all  that  has  been  done,  including 
the  Sumter  affair,  but  the  State  of  Virginia  is  to  take 
an  important  vote  on  the  23d  of  May,  and  at  sun- 
set of  that  day  it  will  be  known  whether  or  not  the 


20       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

Old  Dominion  is  to  join  the  Confederacy.  Can  any- 
body know  beforehand  the  result  of  a  State  election  ? 
Perhaps  not;  but  the  President  is  so  sure  in  his  own 
mind  that  Virginia  will  adopt  the  Ordinance  of  Se- 
cession that  he  has  ordered  the  Union  forces  to  be 
ready  to  cross  the  Potomac  at  sunset  of  May  23,  this 
very  week  upon  which  we  are  entering. 

Nothing,  however,  could  be  more  peaceful  than  is 
the  White  House  as  we  enter  it  this  Sunday  morn- 
ing. The  President  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  are  beginning 
with  an  effort  to  keep  Sunday,  and  they  have  gone 
to  church.  They  try  to  be  private  citizens  once  a 
week,  but  the  circumstances  are  against  them. 
Robert  is  away  at  college.  The  children  are  in  the 
other  part  of  the  house.  The  two  private  secre- 
taries may  be  at  church  for  all  we  know — they  are 
not  in  their  office.  The  doors  of  the  rooms  are  all 
wide  open. 

"  Hullo,  Ellsworth,  are  you  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  I'm  all  the  President  there  is  on  hand  this 
morning.  I  got  away  from  camp  to  run  over  and 
see  him  and  the  boys." 

He  is  a  brilliant  young  fellow,  and  you  like  him, 
and  you  have  an  idea  that  if  a  war  is  to  come  he  will 
play  a  prominent  part  in  it.  He  is  brimming,  run- 
ning over  with  health,  high  spirits,  ambition,  hope, 
and  all  the  exuberant  life  of  a  rarely  vigorous  nature. 
You  have  been  drilling  hard  as  a  soldier  since  a 
fortnight  or  so  before  you  were  sworn  in,  and  he  has 
picked  up  a  carbine  that  was  leaning  against  the 
wall.     Put  him  through  the  manual  of  arms,  for  he 


OPENING  THE   DOOR.  21 

has  the  name  of  being  the  most  perfect  master  of  it 
in  the  army.  How  like  a  piece  of  human  mecha- 
nism are  all  his  clock-work  movements  !  There! 
He  was  standing  too  near  the  south  window,  and 
the  order  which  brought  the  butt  of  that  piece 
against  his  shoulder  sent  the  muzzle  of  it  through  a 
pane  of  glass.  So  much  for  your  defective  tactics, 
and  this  war  is  to  be  a  record  of  badly  directed 
forces.  You  and  he  are  boys,  and  when  the  private 
secretaries  come  in,  for  they  too  are  boys,  you  can 
tell  them  that  some  assassin,  lurking  in  the  shrub- 
bery down  yonder,  must  have  mistaken  Colonel 
Ellsworth  for  the  President.  His  bullet  missed  its 
mark,  but  it  ruined  the  pane  of  glass.  It  is  but  a 
passing  jest,  but  it  illustrates  the  strong  hold  which 
the  idea  of  probable  assassination  has  already  taken 
upon  the  minds  of  men. 

Has  a  whole  week  passed  since  then  ?  Yes;  and 
here  we  are,  in  the  same  room,  standing  by  the  same 
window.  Virginia  has  been  invaded,  and  on  the 
night  in  which  Ellsworth  was  slain  you  were  with 
Company  A,  and  it  was  given  by  General  Stone  the 
honor  of  being  the  first  to  cross  the  bridge.  The 
Twelfth  New  York  came  next,  and  now,  indeed,  they 
are  in  Dixie. 

"  Yes,  General  Leavenworth,  last  Sunday  morn- 
ing Ellsworth  was  here,  about  this  time,  and  he 
stood  exactly  where  you  are  standing.  Do  you  see 
that  ?  " 

The  marks  of  the  glazier's  fingers  on  the  new  glass 
illustrate  the  story,  but  the  bright  and  gay  young 
soldier  has  fallen  on  the  very  threshold  of  the  war 


22       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

in  which  he  hoped  to  be  a  leader.  The  river,  down 
there,  at  which  he  and  you  were  looking,  has  be- 
come the  northern  boundary  line  of  the  Confederacy. 
This  White  House  itself  has  become  the  headquar- 
ters of  a  frontier  post  as  well  as  of  the  armies  of  the 
Republic.  The  heights,  yonder,  on  the  south  bank 
of  the  Potomac,  are  within  the  enemy's  country.  A 
Confederate  flag  floated  upon  Arlington  House  last 
Sunday,  but  it  is  not  there  now,  and  one  reason  why 
the  heights  were  so  promptly  occupied  and  fortified 
by  the  national  troops  was  that  a  battery  planted 
upon  them  could  have  pitched  its  shot  and  shell 
through  the  windows  of  the  White  House,  or  into 
the  halls  and  chambers  of  the  Capitol. 


CHAPTER  II. 

PERSONS   AND   PAPERS. 

'"THIS  large  south-fronting  room  has  been  the 
*  business  office  of  all  the  Presidents  who  have 
lived  in  this  house.  In  one  sense  it  is  the  nerve- 
centre  of  the  Republic.  It  is  a  wonderful  historic 
cavern  to  move  about  in.  The  hearts  and  brains  of 
a  great  people  are  somehow  in  connection  with  it, 
and  they  send  to  this  chamber  their  blind  impulses, 
their  thrills  of  hope,  their  faintnesses  of  disappoint- 
ment, their  shivers  of  fear,  and  even  their  sinking  of 
despair. 

Mr.  Lincoln  will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes.  He 
was  always  an  early  riser,  and  it  is  a  good  habit  for 
him  to  have  in  these  overworked  times.  He  is  apt 
to  come  striding  along  the  hall  at. farm  hours,  as  if 
he  were  in  haste  to  get  here  and  finish  something 
left  over  from  last  evening,  or  attend  to  some  crisis 
which  came  in  the  night,  before  the  daily  procession 
of  visitors  can  set  in. 

That  long  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room  is  the 
board  around  which  the  Cabinet  sits  in  council,  and 
they  are  gathered  there  frequently,  nowadays. 
How  they  appear  when  they  are  gathered  will  be 
very  well  imagined  by  future  generations  after  look- 
ing at  Carpenter's  picture  of  the  first  reading  of  the 
Emancipation  Proclamation,  which  is  to  be  painted 

23 


24       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

a  few  years  hence  and  hung  upon  a  wall  of  the  Cap- 
itol. In  that  picture,  however,  without  purpose  of 
the  painter,  Mr.  Montgomery  Blair,  the  Postmaster- 
General,  will  be  made  to  stand  upon  the  square  yard 
of  carpet  he  occupied  when  he  and  the  President 
took  leave  of  each  other,  coldly,  formally,  without 
any  hand-shaking,  the  day  he  ceased  to  be  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Cabinet. 

These  meetings  are  wonderfully  secret  affairs. 
Only  a  private  secretary  may  enter  the  room  to  so 
much  as  bring  in  a  paper.  No  breath  of  any  "  Cab- 
inet secret  "will  ever  transpire,  so  faithfully  is  the  seal 
of  this  room  guarded. 

There  is  hardly  an  ornamental  or  a  superfluous 
article  of  furniture  in  the  room.  This  second-hand 
mahogany  upright  desk,  from  some  old  furniture 
auction — or  that  is  what  it  looks  like — here  by  the 
middle  window,  is  Mr.  Lincoln's  working-desk. 
This  is  the  place  where  he  is  expected  to  perform 
his  political  and  military  miracles.  Matters  of  all 
kinds  are  put  into  shape  here  for  after-consideration 
by  the  Cabinet,  when  they  assemble  around  the  long 
table  to  be  informed  why  they  were  sent  for.  It  is 
not  often,  however,  that  a  paper  or  plan  prepared  by 
Mr.  Lincoln  is  much  changed  in  its  appearance  at 
the  end  of  a  meeting. 

The  opposite  rule  prevails  at  the  Capitol,  for  Con-, 
gress  is  all  the  while  in  a  bubble  and  boil  over  busi- 
ness which  goes  to  it  from  this  desk.  It  is  their 
privilege  to  cut  and  slash,  very  much  as  Tad  and 
Willie  are  cutting  and  slashing  something  or  other, 
on  the  floor,  under  and  behind  and  all  around  this 


PERSONS   AND   PAPERS.  25 

Republican  throne.  There  is  nothing  on  the  desk 
but  a  few  bundles  of  papers  and  an  outspread  map. 
It  is  a  map  of  part  of  the  regions  which  are  begin- 
ning to  be  overrun  with  armies,  and  now  that  the 
President  has  come  in  and  has  dropped  into  his  chair, 
his  forehead  wrinkles  more  deeply  than  usual  as  he 
leans  forward.  No  doubt  he  knows  what  he  means 
when  he  removes  a  red-headed  pin  on  the  map 
from  the  junction  of  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi,  at 
Cairo,  and  sticks  it  in  again,  further  down  the  river. 
Next  goes  a  black-headed  pin  away  over  into  Mis- 
souri, and  it  may  be  that  he  is  thinking  of  Fremont; 
but  nobody  can  guess  why  the  blue-headed  pin  is 
transferred  from  Cincinnati  down  into  the  heart  of 
Kentucky.  It  is  a  way  he  has  of  studying  the  move- 
ments of  the  forces  on  both  sides,  and  a  lot  of  fresh 
telegraphic  dispatches  has  just  been  brought  in  from 
the  War  Office  and  put  down  upon  the  Cabinet 
table. 

There  must  be  something  in  them,  by  the  bright- 
ened look  on  the  President's  face  as  he  reads  them 
and  puts  them  down. 

What  a  yell !  But  it  comes  from  the  forces  belong- 
ing to  quite  another  seat  of  war.  Tad  has  been  try- 
ing to  make  a  war-map  of  Willie,  and  there  are  rapid 
movements  in  consequence  on  both  sides.  Peace  is 
obtained  by  sending  them  to  their  mother,  at  the 
other  end  of  the  building,  but  the  President  does  not 
return  to  his  desk.  He  is  studying  one  of  the  maps 
he  has  pulled  down  from  the  spring-roller  above 
the  lounge  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  room.  It  is  an 
outline   map  of  West  Virginia  and  the  mountain 


26       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

ranges,  and  it  is  likely  that  something  important  is 
going  on  there. 

In  the  northwestern  corner  of  the  room  there  are 
standing  racks,  with  many  map-rollers,  and  there 
are  folios  of  maps  on  the  floor  and  leaning  against 
the  walls.  The  area  of  this  war,  by  land  and  sea,  is 
widening,  but  the  operations  at  all  points  are  watched 
and  studied,  and  in  their  general  outline  are  gov- 
erned from,  and  are  continually  reported  to,  this 
central  heart  and  brain  room  in  this  civil  and  mil- 
itary headquarters  of  the  nation. 

Hunting  for  generals  ?  That  is  it  exactly.  The 
President  is  collecting  and  equipping  armies,  and  he 
is  compelled  to  direct  them,  more  or  less,  during  the 
processes  of  creation,  but  he  is  all  the  while  search- 
ing for  men  who  can  take  that  responsibility  off  his 
hands.  The  men  who  are  willing  to  take  it  are  hunt- 
ing him,  too,  and  he  could  make  up  a  regiment  out 
of  the  applicants  for  stars. 

The  stack  of  papers  on  the  Cabinet  table,  when  we 
were  in  that  room,  related  entirely  to  brigadier 
appointments.  So  do  all  these  rubber-banded  bun- 
dles in  this  deep  drawer  and  in  that.  They  gather 
day  by  day,  and  each  batch  must  have  a  written 
digest  made  of  its  character.  It  is  hard  tr  digest 
some  of  them.  Men  ask  authority  to  lead  brigades, 
who  cannot  place  a  company  in  line,  or  put  an  awk- 
ward squad  through  the  manual  of  arms. 

There  is  a  world  of  mournful  fun  in  some  of  these 
brigadier  papers,  and  Mr.  Lincoln  now  and  then 
succeeds  in  laughing  over  them,  as  well  as  in  losing 
his  temper. 


PERSONS   AND   TAPERS.  2J 

What  is  in  that  other  cram-full  drawer  ?  Post 
chaplains,  and  their  papers  also  require  much  diges- 
tion. The  President  has  an  idea  that  most  of  the 
men  who  are  anxious  for  the  rank  and  pay  of  relig- 
ious majors,  without  the  toil  and  exposure  and  peril 
of  keeping  company  with  a  regiment  in  the  field,  are 
what  he  calls  "  loose-footed  ministers,"  and  he  does 
not  take  to  them  kindly. 

Here  is  our  special  work  coming  in.  The  big  sack 
that  Louis,  the  President's  messenger,  is  perspiring 
under,  contains  the  morning's  mail.  What  a  pile  it 
makes,  as  he  pours  it  out  upon  the  table  !  Why,  no, 
it  is  no  larger  than  usual.  Heaps  of  newspapers  ? 
Yes,  and  no.  We  have  to  buy  the  newspapers  we 
really  need  and  read,  like  other  people,  but  a  host 
of  journals,  all  over  the  country,  supply  the  White 
House  gratis.  Open  them  if  you  wish  to  learn  how 
the  course  of  human  events,  and  of  the  President  in 
particular,  is  really  influenced.  How  very  many  of 
these  sagacious  editors  have  blue-and-redded  their 
favorite  editorials,  and  have  underscored  their  most 
stinging  paragraphs ! 

That  is  because  they  fear  lest  Mr.  Lincoln  may 
otherwise  fail  to  be  duly  impressed.  He  might  even 
not  see  the  points  !  His  first  complete  failure  was 
an  attempt  he  made  to  watch  the  course  of  public 
opinion  as  expressed  by  the  great  dailies  East  and 
West.  After  he  gave  up  reading  them,  he  had  a 
daily  brief  made  for  him  to  look  at,  but  at  the  end 
of  a  fortnight  he  had  not  once  found  time  to  glance 
at  it,  and  we  gave  it  up. 

Besides  all  other  difficulties,  the  editors  are  dan- 


28       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

cing  around  the  situation  in  such  a  manner  that  no 
man  can  follow  them  without  getting  too  dizzy  for 
regular  work. 

Put  aside  the  journals  now,  and  take  up  the  kind 
of  written  papers  which  come  through  the  post  in 
bundles  and  bales,  mostly  sealed  a  great  deal.  Do 
you  see  what  they  are  ?  That  pile  is  of  applications 
for  appointments  to  offices  of  every  name  and  grade, 
all  over  the  land.  They  must  be  examined  with 
care,  and  some  of  them  must  be  briefed  before  they 
are  referred  to  the  departments  and  bureaus  with 
which  the  offices  asked  for  are  connected.  We  will 
not  show  any  of  them  to  Mr.  Lincoln  at  present. 

That  other  pile  contains  matter  that  belongs  here. 
They  are  "pardon  papers,"  and  this  desk  has  the 
custody  of  them,  but  their  proper  place,  one  would 
think,  is  in  the  War  Office.  That  is  where  they  all 
must  go,  after  a  while  ;  but  the  President  wishes 
them  where  he  can  lay  his  hands  upon  them,  and 
every  batch  of  papers  and  petitions  must  be  in  order 
for  him  when  he  calls  for  it.  He  will  surely  do  so 
when  some  more  or  less  mournful  delegation  comes 
to  see  him  about  it.  He  is  downright  sure  to  par- 
don any  case  that  he  can  find  a  fair  excuse  for  par- 
doning, and  some  people  think  he  carries  his  mercy 
too  far.  There  was  a  vast  amount  of  probable  par- 
don, for  instance,  in  a  bale  of  papers  which  should 
have  been  here  day  before  yesterday.  It  came  from 
a  guerrilla-stricken  district  in  the  West,  for  the  par- 
don of  the  worst  guerrilla  in  it,  and  the  petitions  were 
largely  and  eminently  and  influentially  signed. 
There  came  up  to   the  President's  office  in  great 


PERSONS  AND  PAPERS.  2$ 

haste  a  large  and  eminent  and  influential  delegation, 
and  the  papers  were  sent  for.  Somehow  or  other 
they  were  not  here.  They  may  have  been  at  the 
War  Office,  but  the  people  there  denied  it.  They 
may  have  been  somewhere  else,  but  the  people  there 
denied  it,  and  the  delegation  had  to  go  away,  and 
the  application  still  hangs  fire. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?    A  telegram  from ?    You 

don't  tell  me  !  Has  that  man  been  actually  hung  ? 
It's  a  pity  about  his  papers  !  Seems  to  me — well, 
yes,  I  remember  now.     I  know  where " 

"Well,  if  I  did,  I  guess  I  wouldn't;  not  now;  but 
if  they're  ever  called  for  again,  and  they  won't  be, 
they  ought  to  be  where  they  can  be  found." 

"  Certainly,  certainly.  But  it's  just  as  well  that 
one  murderer  has  escaped  being  pardoned  by  Abra- 
ham Lincoln.  Narrow  escape,  too  !  The  merest 
piece  of  luck  in  all  the  world  !  " 

There  is  no  sameness  in  the  sizes  of  the  White 
House  mails.  Some  days  there  will  be  less  than 
200  separate  lots,  large  and  small.  Some  days  there 
will  be  over  300.  Anyhow,  every  envelope  must  be 
opened  and  its  contents  duly  examined. 

Are  they  all  read  ?  Not  exactly,  with  a  big 
wicker  waste-basket  on  either  side  of  this  chair.  A 
good  half  of  each  mail  belongs  in  them,  as  fast  as 
you  can  find  it  out.  The  other  half  calls  for  more 
or  less  respectful  treatment,  but  generally  for  ju- 
dicious distribution  among  the  departments,  with  or 
without  favorable  remarks  indorsed  upon  it. 

It  is  lightning  work,  necessarily,  but  have  you 
noticed  this  fine-looking,  well-dressed,  elderly  gen- 


30      INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

tleman,  who  is  sitting-  in  the  chair  by  the  mantel  ? 
He  has  been  watching,  with  increasing  feverishness, 
the  swift  processes  which  dispose  of  the  President's 
mail.  He  has  narrowly  noted,  the  destructions  and 
the  references,  and  not  while  he  has  sat  there  has  a 
solitary  letter  been  discovered  of  the  kind  which 
seems  to  require  the  personal  inspection  and  decis- 
ion of  Mr.  Lincoln.  It  is  not  often  that  a  mail, 
morning  or  evening,  brings  more  than  two  or  three 
envelopes  of  that  kind.  Upon  all  others  the  Presi- 
dent's judgment  is  passed  as  nearly  as  his  proxy  can 
imagine  it,  and,  at  all  events,  the  verdict  is  absolute 
and  final. 

The  elderly  gentleman  looks  as  if  he  might  be  a 
judge,  or  a  college  president,  or  even  a  Governor,  at 
home,  but  he  is  not  at  home  now.  The  chances  are 
two  to  one  that  he  has  at  some  time  written  letters 
to  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  now  he  is  here,  and  he  has  sent 
in  his  card  and  he  is  waiting  for  an  interview.  His 
face  is  waxing  very  red  and  he  squirms  upon  his 
chair,  but  we  will  not  let  him  know  we  are  watching 
him,  and  we  will  put  aside  that  little  heap  of  opened 
letters  by  themselves. 

The  explosion  is  coming  !  He  actually  stamps  with 
anger  as  he  exclaims  : 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  treat  the  President's  mail  ? 
Mr.  Lincoln  does  not  know  this  !  What  would  the 
people  say  if  they  knew  that  their  communications 
to  their  Chief  Magistrate  are  dealt  with  in  this  shame- 
ful manner  ?  Thrown  into  the  waste-basket  !  What 
does  Lincoln  mean  ?  Putting  such  an  awful  respon- 
sibility into  the  hands  of  a  mere  boy  !   A  boy  !" 


PERSONS   AND   TArERS.  31 

It  is  a  storm  of  hot  and  fiery  indignation,  but  it 
pauses  for  breath,  and  you  can  hand  him  the  selected 
lot  of  opened  letters  at  your  elbow. 

"  Please  read  those,  sir,  and  give  me  your  own 
opinion  of  them.  I  may  be  right  about  them.  Do 
you  really  think,  now,  that  the  President  of  the 
United  States  ought  to  turn  from  the  affairs  of  the 
nation  to  put  in  his  time  on  that  sort  of  thing  ?" 

He  has  them  and  he  is  reading,  and  his  fiery  face 
is  getting  redder  yet  as  he  goes  along.  Now  he  has 
struck  something  that  makes  him  go  the  other  way, 
and  he  is  positively  white  with  wrath.  It  was  almost 
too  mischievous  to  give  him  that  horrible  selection. 

The  letters  in  the  hands  of  that  dignified  but  angry 
critic  tell  stories  of  partisan  bitterness  and  personal 
hatred  ;  of  the  most  venomous  malice,  seeking  to 
shoot  with  poisoned  arrows  of  abuse;  of  low,  slan- 
derous meannesses;  of  the  coarsest,  foulest  vulgarity 
to  which  beastly  men  can  sink;  of  the  wildest,  the 
fiercest  and  the  most  obscene  ravings  of  utter  in- 
sanity; and  the  elderly  gentleman  throws  them  upon 
the  table  and  sinks  back  in  his  chair,  for  a  moment 
almost  speechless  with  shame  and  indignation.  He 
has  found  his  breath: 

"  You  are  right,  young  man  !  You  are  right !  He 
ought  not  to  see  a  line  of  that  stuff!  Burn  it,  sir  ! 
Burn  it !     What  devils  there  are !" 

He  is  pacing  hotly  up  and  down  the  room,  but  the 
messenger  has  come  to  summon  him  to  an  interview 
with  the  President,  and  he  probably  will  not  com- 
plain of  what  he  saw  doing  here. 

Nevertheless,  this  mail  has  not  contained  a  larger 


32       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

percentage  than  usual  of  the  evidence  that  when  any 
man  goes  clean  crazy  in  these  war-days  he  at  once 
sits  down  and  pens  an  epistle  to  the  President.  That 
close-lined,  four-page  letter,  written  in  red,  which 
professes  to  be  blood,  comes  every  day,  and  is  al- 
ways signed  "  The  Angel  Gabriel,"  but  the  contents 
are  the  reverse  of  angelic.  This  long,  elaborate,  re- 
markably well-written,  seemingly  wise  and  sound  vol- 
ume of  advice  concerning  the  policy  to  be  pursued  by 
the  Administration  is  a  curiosity.  It  is  calm,  sane, 
dignified,  but  it  professes  to  be  signed,  through  a  me- 
dium, by  the  spirits  of  nearly  a  score  of  old  worthies 
of  the  Republic.  There  are  the  familiar  signatures 
of  George  Washington,  John  Hancock,  Benjamin 
Franklin,  Thomas  Jefferson,  John  Adams,  and  so  on 
to  the  end  of  the  list,  all  as  perfectly  made  as  they 
themselves  could  write  them,  or  as  the  most  expert 
living  forger  could  imitate  them,  using  the  same  pen 
for  all.  Keep  that  document  and  show  it  to  the  Pres- 
ident some  day. 

There  is  all  the  while  a  host  of  letters  that  are 
altogether  sane,  but  which  give  a  curious  presenta- 
tion of  the  fact  that  the  average  American,  male  or 
female,  knows  almost  nothing  about  the  machinery 
of  the  National  Government.  Simple-minded  people 
send  their  business  to  Father  Abraham,  no  matter 
what  it  is,  and  it  is  the  business  of  this  desk  to  not 
neglect  what  they  send.  There  may  even  be  written 
upon  their  papers  endorsements  asking  for  prompt 
and  favorable  consideration,  if  there  is  a  sufficient 
assurance  that  Lincoln  would  have  done  so,  had  he 
seen  them  before  transmitting  them  to  their  proper 


PERSONS   AND    TAPERS.  33 

bureau  in  one  or  other  of  the  departments.  At  some 
later  day,  some  gratified  citizen  may  tell  an  admiring 
neighbor: 

"  Tell  ye  haow  I  did  it.  I  jest  cut  the  red  tape  and 
dodged  the  loryers  and  writ  to  Linken,  and  he 
searched  the  matter  up  and  had  it  'tended  to.  He's 
a  good  man,  he  is  !" 

There  is  about  as  large  a  throng  of  writers  who  are 
ready  to  offer  advice  and  even  instruction  upon  the 
management  of  the  war.  It  is  marvelous  how  they 
can,  theoretically,  swing  troops  back  and  forth 
about  the  country.  It  is  plain  that  they  all  have 
played  the  game  of  checkers,  and  have  learned  how 
to  "jump"  the  Confederate  forces  and  forts  with 
their  men. 

The  assassination  idea  has  taken  possession  of  so 
many  minds  that  not  many  days  go  by  without  the 
coming  of  some  kind  of  epistolary  threat  or  warning. 

There  is  no  end  to  the  mere  fault-finding,  nor  to 
the  suggestions  of  plans  of  campaigns  and  of  pro- 
posed improvements  in  management.  Here  is  one 
now,  just  opened.  It  is  from  a  man  in  Tolono,  111., 
and  he  proposes  to  open  the  Confederate  blockade 
of  the  Potomac  from  Washington  down  to  Fortress 
Monroe.  He  says  he  has  invented  a  cross-eyed  gun, 
with  two  barrels,  set  at  an  angle  so  as  to  shoot  in 
both  directions;  and  he  proposes  to  raise  a  regiment 
of  cross-eyed  men  to  use  the  new  weapons. 

"  I  know  enough  of  cross-eyed  men  to  fill  up  the 
regiment,  and,  by  thunder!  Mr.  Lincoln,  I'm  cross- 
eyed enough  to  be  colonel  of  it.  We  could  march 
down  the  river  and  clean  out  both  banks  at  once." 


34       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES.- 

We  will  take  that  letter  across  the  hall. 

"How  do  you  think  it  would  work,  Mr.  Lincoln?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  but  what  there's  about  as 
much  in  it  as  there  is  in  some  of  the  other  plans 
they  want  me  to  take." 

He  got  a  laugh  out  of  it,  anyhow,  and  that  is 
something. 

Written  acknowledgments  of  the  receipt  and  dis- 
posal of  papers  are  frequently  necessary,  and  it  is 
well  that  you  have  the  right  to  frank  letters  through 
the  mails,  for  you  never  could  get  the  President  to 
spend  time  in  franking. 

The  sack  that  Louis  brings  from  the  post-office  is 
not  so  large  as  it  would  have  to  be  but  for  the  fact 
that  no  subordinate  military  or  naval  officer  com- 
municates directly  with  the  commander-in-chief,  the 
President.  The  latter  may  follow  the  armies  as 
closely  as  he  pleases  upon  his  maps,  but  the  men 
who  make  the  movements  do  not  report  to  him, 
and  he  does  not  meddle  with  the  details  of  their 
work. 

Mrs.  Lincoln  receives  many  letters.  There  lies 
her  mail,  ready  to  be  taken  to  her. 

"Somebody  has  been  opening  those  letters." 

Is  it  possible  that  such  a  blunder  could  have  been 
made  ?  Well,  the  only  thing  to  be  done  is  to  go  and 
see  her  at  once.  Take  them  along,  and  ask  her  to 
meet  you  in  the  Red  Room. 

Mrs.  Lincoln  is  a  pleasant-looking  woman,  and 
she  is  i-n  fine  health  and  spirits  this  morning. 

"  You  sent  word  that  you  had  a  complaint  to  make 
to  me.     What  is  it  ?" 


PERSONS   AND   PAPERS.  35 

"  This  rascally  paper-folder,  Mrs.  Lincoln.  A  lot 
of  your  letters — here  they  are — were  lying  on  their 
faces  on  my  table,  and  he  got  at  them  and  opened 
every  one  of  them.  I  caught  him  and  choked  him 
off  before  he  had  time  to  read  them,  but  I'd  like  to 
know  what  I  am  to  do  about  him  ?" 

She  does  not  seem  to  be  at  all  angry  with  your 
long  slip  of  polished  ivory. 

"  Oh,  dear  me  !  Is  that  all  ?  I  wish  you  would 
open  and  read  every  letter  that  comes.  You  know 
my  sister's  handwriting  ?" 

"  Perfectly.     That  and  that  are  from  her." 

"  Read  them,  too,  if  you  have  any  doubt.  Don't 
let  a  thing  come  to  me  that  you've  not  first  read 
yourself,  and  that  you  are  not  sure  I  would  wish  to 
see.  I  do  not  wish  to  open  a  letter,  nor  even  a  par- 
cel, of  any  kind,  until  after  you  have  examined  it. 
Never  !" 

She  is  suddenly  called  away,  and  you  have  no  full 
explanation  until  you  have  carried  that  correspond- 
ence upstairs  again. 

The  President's  wife  is  venomously  accused  of 
being  at  heart  a  traitor,  and  of  being  in  communica- 
tion with  the  Confederate  authorities,  to  whom,  it  is 
said,  she  sends  information  as  to  the  plans  of  Union 
generals,  as  these  are  minutely  confided  to  her  by 
Mr.  Lincoln.  The  newspapers,  some  of  them,  assert 
it  openly,  and  their  editors  refuse  to  believe  that  she 
is  intensely  patriotic,  and  utterly  devoted  to  her 
husband.     She  may  be  thinking  of  that 

Read  !  Read  !  You  know  now  why  she  wishes 
you  to  inspect  her  letters.  The  insane,  the  depraved 


36       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

and  the  fiendish  have  by  no  means  restricted  them- 
selves to  the  President  in  their  infamous  penman- 
ship. His  vilest  foes  are  willing  to  vent  their  infer- 
nal malice  upon  his  unoffending  wife,  but  from  this 
day  forward  they  will  but  send  their  missives  to  the 
waste-basket  and  the  fire.  That  is  where  some  of 
the  writers  are  going,  too. 


CHAPTER  III. 

WEAPONS   AND   WAR   SHIPS. 

TNMATES  of  the  White  House  get  accustomed, 
after  a  while,  to  this  strange,  unnatural,  war- 
time atmosphere,  but  they  cannot  escape  from  some 
of  its  effects.  Mr.  Lincoln  bears  it  better  than  could 
another  man  in  his  place,  perhaps,  but  it  is  telling 
upon  him  perceptibly.  The  sense  of  not  breathing 
so  easily  here  as  elsewhere  is  a  false  impression,  no 
doubt,  but  all  sorts  of  men  are  suffering  from  moral 
malarial  fever.  Some  of  them  say  and  do  different 
things  from  what  they  intended  saying  or  doing  be- 
fore they  came  to  Washington.  All  kinds  of  people 
come  on  all  kinds  of  errands,  and  most  of  them,  now- 
adays, besiege  the  Capitol  and  the  Departments, 
but  there  is  a  long  list  of  persistent  visitors  who 
hang  around  the  White  House  and  wait  for  chances 
to  see  the  President,  even  after  they  are  assured  that 
he  cannot  and  will  not  see  them. 

For  a  while  the  private  secretary's  room  was  over- 
flowed, like  the  others,  but  the  excess  worked  a  re- 
action, and  the  door  of  that  office  is  now  under 
wholesome  restrictions.  The  door  of  this  northeast 
room  cannot  so  well  be  closed,  and  it  has  become  a 
favorite  waiting-place  for  those  who  consider  them- 
selves privileged  to  make  use  of  it.     Hullo! 

"  I  want  to  see  Old  Abe!" 
37 


38       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

He  is  six  feet  high,  in  shining  black  broadcloth, 
shining  pin  and  watch-chain,  shining  black  hat  and 
hair,  and  his  face  is  all  one  shine  of  serene,  hearty, 
boisterous  self-confidence.  He  knows  exactly  how 
to  swing  into  the  affections  of  a  rail-splitter,  and  he 
has  swung  right  past  the  usher,  and  the  common 
people — Senators,  Congressmen  and  the  like — who 
are  loitering  so  patiently  near  the  President's  office 
door.  His  entrance  here  suggests  the  word  "bulge," 
if  there  is  such  a  word. 

"  Is  Old  Abe  in  ?"  and  the  smile  on  his  face  ripens 
into  a  haw-haw  of  asserted  old  acquaintance  and  per- 
sonal familiarity  with — well,  with  the  Government 
and  with  all  creation. 

"  If  you  mean  the  President  of  the  United  States, 
this  is  Congress  day.  Are  you  a  member  of  the 
Senate  or  of  the  House  ?  The  messenger  will  take 
in  any  member's  card." 

"  I  want  to  see  Old  Abe!" 

"Oh,  well!     He  isn't  here!" 

The  smile  which  vanishes  from  the  haw-haw's 
face  brightens  audibly  upon  the  faces  of  several 
more  or  less  venerable  statesmen  who  are  loitering 
near  the  desk,  and  a  shining  suit  of  black  broadcloth 
fades  limply  away  along  the  hall. 

All  sorts  of  people  come  upon  all  sorts  of  errands, 
and  the  broad-shouldered,  plain-looking  fellow  sit- 
ting there  seems  to  have  his  lap  full  of  joiner-work, 
painted  black.  It  reminds  one  of  the  Noah's  arks  he 
used  to  get  at  Christmas,  only  that  it  is  very  low  and 
wide,  and  has  no  procession  of  wooden  animals. 
There  are  toy  cannon,  too,  looking  out  of  the  win- 


WEAPONS   AND   WAR   SHIPS.  39 

dows,  instead  of  giraffes.  That  man  was  in  to  see 
the  President  yesterday,  and  they  sat  down  together 
and  discussed  Western  steamboats  and  flatboats  and 
gunboats,  and  they  turned  that  thing  inside  out.  It 
has  been  here  a  good  while,  sitting  on  the  mantel. 
It  is  the  first  model  of  a  "tin-clad"  gunboat,  for  use 
upon  the  shallow  waters  of  the  West,  and  the  Presi- 
dent has  had  more  to  do  than  most  men  are  aware 
of  with  the  beginnings  of  the  Mississippi  flotilla. 

The  other  day  there  came  another  sort  of  man  to 
sit  here  and  wait  his  turn  to  see  the  President.  He 
was  a  massive,  vigorous,  fine-looking  man,  and  he 
said  his  name  was  Bushnell.  He  brought,  to  show 
to  the  President,  a  model  of  a  strange,  altogether 
new  sea-going  war  -  monster,  devised  by  another 
man  named  Ericsson.  Mr.  Lincoln  made  a  careful 
study  of  what  was  said  to  resemble  a  cheese-box  on 
a  raft,  and  he  ordered  a  board  of  naval  officers  to  get 
together  and  examine  it.  Then  he  turned  himself 
into  a  naval  officer  and  met  with  Bushnell  and  the 
board.  There  were  adverse  opinions  from  several 
other  old  salts,  but  Mr.  Lincoln  said  he  was  like  the 
fat  girl  when  she  put  on  her  stocking — she  thought 
there  was  something  in  it,  and  so  did  he,  and  the 
building  of  the  Monitor  was  ordered,  and  is  now 
quietly  going  on. 

The  new  inventions  that  come  and  sit  here  are 
not  by  any  means  all  of  them  of  wood.  Look  at 
that  thing  on  the  table.  It  has  been  there  week 
after  week,  and  everybody  stops  and  turns  it  over. 
No,  it  was  not  dug  up  from  any  old  feudal-time  bat- 
tle-field.    The  surliest  remark  yet  made  upon  that 


40       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

pretty  blue  shell  of  polished  steel  came  from  a  grim 
old  soldier  with  stars  upon  his  shoulders: 

"  So  that's  a  cuirass  !  Well,  the  inventor  must  be 
a  queer  ass  to  think  a  man  could  lug  that  thing  on  a 
march  in  a  hot  sun,  or  on  the  double-quick." 

It  claims  to  be  bullet-proof,  and  Mr.  Lincoln  says 
that  if  that's  the  case,  he  approves  of  it;  but  that 
there  must  be  a  thorough  test  made.  The  inventor 
can  put  it  on,  and  a  detail  of  sharpshooters  can 
practice  at  it,  to  see  whether  or  not  a  bullet  will  go 
through.  The  test  seems  to  be  postponed,  but  it  is 
a  good  enough  table  ornament. 

So  is  the  round  cast-iron  bulb  that  is  serving  as  a 
paper-weight.  There  is  hardly  any  other  contriv- 
ance more  thoroughly  infernal  than  that  proposed 
hand-grenade.  Pick  it  up,  so,  and  give  it  this  twist, 
and  it  unscrews  its  shell  and  falls  into  a  dozen  pieces 
of  irregular  shapes  and  angles.  In  the  middle  of 
these,  when  they  are  screwed  up  again,  there  is  a 
chamber  for  fulminate  and  powder.  Charge  it, 
throw  it  among  a  crowd,  and  it  will  drive  those  pieces 
in  all  directions.  Put  it  on  the  ground  where  men 
or  horses  are  to  walk.  It  can  be  capped  so  deli- 
cately that  a  touch  or  a  jar  will  explode  it.  A  hor- 
rible thing  for  close  combat,  but  of  no  practical  use 
in  these  days  of  long-range  rifles. 

The  brass  cannon  model,  holding  down  those  land 
patents,  has  a  promise  of  slaughter  in  it.  So  has  the 
semblance  of  a  musket  leaning  against  the  wall,  but 
the  danger  in  that  thing  is  to  the  man  who  fires  it 
off.  It  is  to  be  a  speculation  for  somebody,  if  the  agent 
who  represents  a   shipload    like  it   can  induce   the 


WEAPONS  and  war  ships.  41 

President  to  force  an  unwilling  Ordnance  Bureau  to 
buy  them.  They  were  made  by  a  fraudulent  con- 
tractor for  the  Austrian  army,  and  were  rejected  as 
worthless.  No  bribe  could  get  them  into  the  Aus- 
trian service,  and  here  they  are,  under  the  supposi- 
tion that  Americans  never  have  seen  any  guns. 
That  specimen  will  be  quite  enough,  for  the  Presi- 
dent really  knows  something  about  gunnery.  He 
takes  an  especial  interest  in  the  new  idea  of  breech- 
loaders and  repeaters,  but  the  Bureau  officials  are 
against  him.  This  Henry  rifle  is  a  sixteen-shooter. 
This  other  invention  will  go  off  nine  times;  but  the 
single-shooting  breech-loader  is  his  idea  of  the  army 
rifle  of  the  future.  He  studies  every  new  pattern 
that  comes,  and  he  has  been  looking  closely  at  this. 
It's  the  very  latest.  An  old  Springfield  musket  bar- 
rel, fitted  with  a  cartridge  chamber  that  goes  on 
and  comes  off  with  a  screw  twist. 

"Ah  !  Mr.  President." 

"They  say  you're  a  pretty  good  marksman.  I 
want  you  to  be  here  early  to-morrow  morning;  say 
half-past  six.  We'll  go  out  on  the  Mall  and  try 
some  of  these  guns.     I  can  get  a  better  idea " 

The  talk  on  gunnery  gets  to  be  so  interesting  that 
they  come  to  call  him  to  his  dinner,  with  a  reminder 
from  Mrs.  Lincoln  that  it  is  a  company  day,  and  he 
has  to  go. 

The  Mall  is  that  great  slope  of  grass  and  weeds 
and  rubbish  between  the  White  House  grounds 
and  the  Potomac.  Away  out  in  the  middle  of 
it  there  is  a  pile  of  old  lumber  as  large  as  a 
small  house.     It  is  just  the  thing  to  set  up  a  target 


42       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

against.  There  will  be  no  danger  of  our  killing 
anybody. 

One's  nerves  are  all  the  better  for  rifle  practice 
after  a  good  night's  sleep,  and  this  is  a  clear,  still, 
beautiful  morning. 

If  Mr.  Lincoln  is  not  yet  up 

"  Well,  you  didn't  keep  me  waiting.  Now,  you 
take  that  thing  and  I'll  take  this,  and  we'll  go  right 
along." 

"That  thing,"  as  he  calls  it,  is  the  old  Springfield, 
with  the  screw-twisting  additions,  and  it  takes  in 
cartridges  of  the  full  service  size.  His  own  choice 
is  a  kind  of  Spencer,  and  is  neatly  finished  at  about 
sporting  caliber.  No  Union  force  ever  yet  marched 
out  armed  precisely  as  the  Commander-in-Chief  and 
his  detachment  are  this  morning. 

"  General  Ripley  says,  Mr.  Lincoln,  that  men 
enough  can  be  killed  with  the  old  smooth-bore  and 
the  old  cartridges,  a  ball  and  three,  buckshot." 

"Just  so.  But  our  folks  are  not  getting  near 
enough  to  the  enemy  to  do  any  good  with  them 
just  now.  We've  got  to  get  guns  that'll  carry 
further." 

He  is  in  a  talking  mood,  and  the  entire  breech- 
loading  and  muzzle-loading  question  is  rapidly  ana- 
lyzed during  the  walk  to  the  Mall. 

A  hundred  yards  is  fair  trial-distance,  and  a  board 
against  the  pile  of  lumber  is  a  good  enough  mark. 

They  make  good  gun-barrels  at  Springfield,  and 
this  thing  carries  straight,  but  oh,  what  a  kick  it  has, 
with  this  loose  twist  at  the  heel  of  it ! 

He  never  was  a  first-rate  shot. 


"  STOP   THAT    FIRING  !' 


WEAPONS    AND    WAR    SHU'S.  43 

"  I  declare,  you  are  beating  me!  I'll  take  a  good 
sight  this  time." 

Down  he  crouches,  to  hold  his  piece  across  his 
knee,  but  he  has  entirely  forgotten  one  thing.  There 
are  stringent  orders  out  forbidding  all  firing  within 
the  camp  limits  of  this  frontier  post  called  Washing- 
ton City.  Mr.  Lincoln  should  have  borne  them  in 
mind,  for  he  got  into  difficulties  with  an  order  of 
that  kind  once.  Away  back,  when  he  was  a  captain 
of  militia  in  the  Black  Hawk  War,  he  had  to  wear  a 
wooden  sword  a  whole  day  for  emptying  his  horse- 
pistols  too  near  the  camp  limits. 

There  they  come  !  There  is  a  short  sergeant,  or 
a  short  corporal,  and  four  or  five  men  of  the  reg- 
iment on  guard  duty,  and  they  are  on  a  clean  run 
from  the  avenue,  but  the  President's  protracted 
squint  along  that  blue  barrel  must  not  be  interrupted. 

The  short  sergeant,  or  he  may  be  a  short  cor- 
poral, is  beginning  to  make  remarks,  and  he  has  for- 
gotten all  he  learned  in  Sunday-school. 

"  Stop  that  firing  !     Stop  that  firing  !  " 

That  is  his  duty,  no  doubt,  but  where  did  he  pick 
up  so  many  "  battle  words  ?  " 

"  Stop  that  firing " 

Bang  goes  the  rifle,  just  as  the  sergeant,  or  cor- 
poral, arrives  within  a  few  paces  and  is  putting  out 
an  eager,  angry  hand,  as  if  he  had  an  arrest  to 
make.     Here  comes  the  fun  ! 

Perhaps  Mr.  Lincoln  heard  him,  and  perhaps  not, 
but  his  tall,  gaunt  form  shoots  up,  up,  up,  uncoiling 
to  its  full  height,  and  his  smiling  face  looks  down 
upon  the  explosive  volunteers. 


44       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

Their  faces,  especially  that  of  the  sergeant,  or 
corporal,  look  up  at  his,  and  all  their  jaws  seem  to 
drop  in  unison.  No  word  of  command  is  uttered, 
but  they  "  right  about  face  "  in  a  second  of  time. 
Now  it  is  a  double-quick,  quicker,  quicker,  as  they 
race  back  toward  the  avenue,  leaving  behind  them 
only  a  confused,  suppressed  breath  about  having 
"cussed  Old  Abe  himself." 

His  own  laugh,  in  his  semi-silent,  peculiar  way,  is 
long  and  hearty,  but  his  only  remark  is: 

"  Well,  they  might  have  stayed  to  see  the  shoot- 
ing." 

There  is  not  a  great  deal  more  to  be  done,  for  he 
has  answered  the  questions  he  had  to  ask  of  these 
rifles,  and  the  back-action  faculty  developed  by  the 
old  Springfield  has  kicked  the  secretary's  shoulder 
black  and  blue.  It  will  be  a  week  before  any  very 
rapid  writing  is  done  in  the  northeast  room. 

We  are  back  in  it,  lame  enough,  and  in  no  humor 
to  listen  to  the  old  one-wheel  rifle  orator,  if  he 
comes.  Here  he  is,  too,  with  his  kill-at-three-miles 
rolling  along  beside  him.  It's  nothing  but  an  over- 
grown muzzle-loader,  on  a  great  spider-web  wheel, 
but  its  inventor  is  persuaded  that  the  people  and 
the  Army  demand  its  adoption.  He  is  loaded  up, 
himself,  with  the  popular  dissatisfaction  over  the  in- 
efficient management  of  the  war. 

"  The  President  must  be  made  to  understand,  sir, 
that  the  eyes  of  the  people  are  on  him,  sir  !  They 
are  watching  him,  sir!  This  way  of  doing  can't  go 
on,  sir  !  He  must  meet  the  requirements  of  the  age, 
sir  !     Or  he  must  take  the  consequences,  sir  !  " 


WEArONS   AND    WAR    SHIPS.  45 

All  of  it,  and  of  every  reiterated  form  of  it,  is  to 
be  interpreted:  "Woe  to  him,  if  he  does  not  order 
the  Ordnance  Bureau  to  contract  for  at  least  10,000 
of  enemy-slaughtering,  far-shooting,  spider-wheel- 
mounted,  two-ounce-ball  rifles,  like  this,  sir  !  " 

One  way  and  another,  this  day's  work  has  been 
much  interrupted,  and  the  mail  was  large.  It  must 
be  cut  into  again  by  gaslight,  and  here  we  are. 

Here  is  another  of  those  queer  communications 
from  the  ghost  of  Andrew  Jackson.  He  was  not 
particular  about  his  grammar  or  his  spelling,  when 
he  lived  here,  but  he  never  wrote  or  talked  such 
bald  nonsense  as  this  is,  and  the  signature  is  decided- 
ly not  his  own.  That  chair,  yonder,  was  such  a 
favorite  with  him  that  to  this  day  it  goes  by  the 
name  of  Andrew  Jackson's  chair.  It  is  of  Mexican 
material  and  workmanship,  and  was  presented  to 
him  by  citizens  of  that  republic  in  token  of  their 
appreciation  of  his  friendly  policy,  and  is  one  of  the 
heirlooms  of  the  White  House.  Its  strong  but  grace- 
ful and  unique  mahogany  frame  sustains  a  hollow 
morocco  leather  seat  that  is  peculiarly  comfortable. 
Old  Hickory  was  accustomed  to  lean  back  in  it,  of 
winter  evenings,  before  the  fireplace  in  the  Presi- 
dent's room,  and  smoke  his  corncob  pipe  and  put 
his  stockinged  feet  upon  the  middle  bricks  of  the 
fireplace  arch.  Mr.  Lincoln  expressed  a  wish  to 
have  those  bricks  preserved  when  the  fireplace  was 
reconstructed,  but  they  were  somehow  mislaid  and 
lost.  Still,  he  has  managed  to  step  in  Andrew 
Jackson's  footmarks  fairly  well,  so  far  as  determina- 
tion to  preserve  the  Union  is  concerned. 


46       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

"  I  want  you  to  come  along  with  me.  I'm  going 
over  to  Seward's." 

It  is  the  President  himself,  and  he  has  a  large 
portfolio  under  his  arm. 

"  Here  are  some  letters  I  had  put  aside  to  show  to 
you. 

"  Not  now.     Not  now.     Come  !  " 

He  is  intensely  absorbed  in  something,  and  it  is 
best  to  take  the  portfolio  and  follow  him  in  silence. 
When  he  reaches  the  front  door,  and  opens  it  and 
looks  out,  he  discovers  that  a  drizzle  of  rain  is  fall- 
ing. The  old  doorkeeper  is  standing  by,  rubbing  his 
hands  as  usual,  and  with  his  perpetual  half  smile  of 
suppressed  humor  flickering  across  his  face. 

"  Edward,"  says  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  go  up  to  my  room 
and  bring  me  my  umbrella.  It  stands  in  the  corner, 
behind  my  table." 

Edward  is  gone  but  a  moment,  while  Mr.  Lincoln 
stands  peering  gloomily  out  into  the  darkness,  and 
now  he  is  back  again,  but  he  brings  no  umbrella. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  he  remarks,  washing  his 
hands  diligently,  "  it's  not  there.  I  think  the  owner 
must  have  come  for  it.  I'll  get  another — just  a  min- 
ute, sir." 

It  was  more  the  way  it  was  said  than  the  joke  itself 
that  makes  the  President  laugh;  but  we  are  hardly 
out  of  the  house,  walking  under  the  umbrella  Edward 
found  for  him,  before  he  tells  a  story  about  the  door- 
keeper. 

"  There's  a  great  deal  of  fun  in  him.  Just  after 
Taylor's  death,  when  Fillmore  succeeded  him,  Fill- 
more needed  to  buy  a  carriage.     Some  gentleman 


WEAPONS   AND   WAR   SHIPS.  47 

here  was  breaking  up  housekeeping  and  had  one  for 
sale,  and  Fillmore  took  Edward  with  him  when  he 
went  to  look  at  it.  It  seemed  to  be  a  pretty  good 
turnout,  but  Fillmore  looked  it  carefully  over  and 
then  asked  Edward:  '  How  do  you  think  it  will  do 
for  the  President  of,  the  United  States  to  ride  in  a 
second-hand  carriage  ? '  " 

"  '  Sure,  your  Excellency,'  replied  Edward,  '  you're 
only  a  second-hand  President,  you  know.' 

"  Fillmore  told  the  story  himself,"  continues  Mr. 
Lincoln ;  and  then  he  adds  something  else  about 
Fillmore  which  lasts  to  the  door  of  Secretary  Sew- 
ard's house,  a  little  beyond  the  avenue.  In  a  mo- 
ment more  we  are  in  the  room  on  the  right,  a  sort 
of  business-like  reception-room,  and  a  bright  wood 
fire  is  blazing  upon  the  hearth,  for  the  night  is  chilly. 
The  portfolio  is  placed  upon  the  center  table  and 
opened,  and  a  number  of  maps  and  papers  are  spread 
out,  for  ready  production  when  called  for.  In  a  min- 
ute more  the  door  of  the  room  again  opens,  and  Mr. 
Seward  enters,  and  with  him  is  a  slight,  short,  but 
firmly  knit, self-possessed,  intelligent-looking  gentle- 
man, in  the  uniform  of  a  major-general,  who  is  intro- 
duced to  the  President  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  Mr. 
Lincoln's  hand  goes  out  to  him  at  once. 

"  I'm  glad  to  meet  you,  General  Dix.  My  private 
secretary, ,"  and  he  adds  a  few  words  explan- 
atory of  his  preference  for  holding  a  sort  of  council 
here  rather  than  at  the  White  House.  There  are 
grave  matters  before  those  three  men.  General  Dix 
was  in  Buchanan's  Cabinet,  and  he  is  aware  of  many 
things  that  are  not  so  well  known  by  other  men. 


48       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

He  has  been  taken  into  full  confidence  by  the  new 
Administration,  and  much  authority  and  power  have 
been  given  him.  This  evening  he  is  here  for  consul- 
tation, and  Mr.  Seward  and  the  President  discuss 
with  him  the  entire  policy  to  be  pursued  with  Mary- 
land and  the  other  border  States.  It  is  late  when 
the  conference  ends,  and  when  Mr.  Lincoln  goes  out 
to  return  home  it  is  still  raining.  If  he  is  really 
watched  and  followed  by  would-be  assassins,  now  is 
their  time,  for  neither  he  nor  his  young  attendant 
carries  a  weapon,  and  they  are  not  dreaming  of  any 
danger  from  the  few  persons  they  are  meeting. 

"  Mr.  Lincoln,  what  do  you  think  of  General  Dix  ? 
I  never  saw  him  before." 

"  Neither  did  I,"  replies  the  President.  "This  is 
our  first  interview.  What  do  I  think  of  him  ?  Well, 
if  I  am  going  to  judge  by  what  he  has  said  to-night 
— by  the  advice  he  has  given — General  Dix  is,  I 
should  say,  a  wise  man,  a  very  wise  man." 

The  White  House  is  reached  and  entered,  the  um- 
brella is  handed  to  Old  Edward  at  the  door,  and  the 
President  returns  to  his  room,  directing  that  the 
portfolio  be  laid  upon  his  table.  It  contains  more 
papers  than  when  it  went  out,  and  he  has,  he  says, 
some  work  to  do,  but  he  is  glad  that  no  more  dis- 
patches came  in  during  his  absence. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

GIFTS   AND   VISITORS. 

"THERE  has  never  been  and  there  is  not  now  any 
*  excessive  liberality  in  the  appropriations  made 
by  Congress  for  paying  Presidents  and  conducting 
the  business  of  the  National  Executive.  The  Presi- 
dent's salary,  in  1861,  is  just  what  it  was  when  such 
a  dollar  as  is  paid  him,  or  even  a  silver  dollar,  would 
go  twice  as  far  in  defraying  household  expenses. 
The  salary  of  his  private  secretary  is  still  only  $2,500, 
with  no  provision  for  an  assistant.  When  the  work 
to  be  done  imperatively  demanded  a  second  private 
secretary,  it  was  necessary  to  appoint  him,  at  first,  a 
clerk  in  one  of  the  departments,  and  then  an  army 
officer  with  special  detail  to  duty  in  this  office. 
His  rank  and  position  are  fixed  and  recognized,  how- 
ever, by  reason  of  the  important  functions  he  per- 
forms. 

Since  Mr.  Lincoln's  term  began,  something  has 
been  done  toward  refitting  the  "reception"  part  of 
the  interior  of  the  White  House,  but  the  remainder 
of  that  and  of  the  outside  are  untouched,  and  the 
basement  continues  to  carry  somewhat  the  air  of  an 
old  and  unsuccessful  hotel. 

The  northeast  room  has  been  as  shabby  as  any, 
but  it  has  assumed  a  suddenly  disastrous  look,  this 
fine  morning.     The  green  cloth  cover  of  the  broad 

49 


50       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

table  was  ink-stained  and  work-worn,  last  evening, 
but  it  was  whole.  It  is  by  no  means  a  unit,  now. 
Tad  and  Willie  Lincoln  have  been  here,  and  they  are 
the  happy  owners  of  brand-new  pocket-knives.  They 
are  sharp  knives,  too,  that  will  cut  outline  maps  of 
the  seat  of  war,  or  of  anything  else,  upon  green  cloth 
table-covers.  Such  a  looking  mess  ! — Hullo  !  There 
goes  the  President's  bell  !  He  wants  me  in  his 
room,  but  it  isn't  worth  while  to  tell  him  what  the 
boys  have  been  up  to. 

That  bell  up  there  has  a  cord  within  the  President's 
reach,  and  so  have  similar  bells  in  other  rooms,  up- 
stairs and  downstairs.  Any  summons  from  him 
must  be  promptly  responded  to,  especially  when  it 
is  repeated  in  this  furious  manner.  He  is  fire  mad 
about  something ! 

The  door  of  the  northeast  room  is  opened  and  so 
is  Nicolay's  door,  across  the  hall.  See  how  he  springs 
up  !  His  bell,  too,  is  ringing  violently  and  repeated- 
ly. There  is  Louis,  the  President's  messenger, 
hurrying  along  the  hall.  Old  Edward  is  coming 
upstairs  as  fast  as  his  sense  of  propriety  will  let  him. 
Here's  Hay  !  There  comes  Stackpole  !  Something 
is  the  matter  with  the  President  !  This  is  something 
serious  ! 

Not  a  bit  of  it.  The  trouble  is  that  the  bells  of  the 
whole  house  are  bewitched,  and  the  wizards  who  have 
done  it  are  in  wild  glee  over  their  success.  One  of 
them,  named  Tad,  is  sitting  by  a  central  pinion  or 
"  yoke"  of  the  White  House  bell  system,  away  up  in 
the  garret,  tugging  hard  and  bringing  out  at  once  all 
the  jangle  there  is  in  the  building.     There  is  a  very 


GIFTS   AND   VISITORS.  5  I 

funny  meeting  of  the  miscellaneous  crowd  summoned 
to  the  President's  room,  but  Tad  and  Willie  have  lost 
the  entree  of  the  garret. 

Speaking  of  the  garret  puts  one  in  mind  of  what 
there  is  left  of  the  antediluvian  society  of  the  Capital. 
The  President  is  eminently  social  in  his  disposition 
and  so  is  Mrs.  Lincoln,  but  there  have  been  many 
things  in  the  way  of  even  official  sociability  since 
their  arrival  in  Washington.  He  has  a  superabun- 
dance of  visitors,  truly,  and  she  has  had  no  lack,  but 
the  old-time  society  of  the  city  of  Washington  has 
been  shattered  to  its  foundations,  and  the  new  social 
structure  takes  form  only  slowly.  It  is  semi-chaotic 
as  yet. 

The  old  society  was  based  upon  an  aristocratic 
stratum  of  Virginian  and  Maryland  families,  rein- 
forced from  other  parts  of  the  South  more  largely 
than  from  the  North.  It  possessed  a  subtle  power 
for  absorbing  and  assimilating  whatever  representa- 
tives of  wealth  or  social  rank  drifted  into  it,  from 
time  to  time,  from  what  were  then  distinguished  as 
the  free  States.  There  was  a  vast  deal  of  conserva- 
tive Union  sentiment  here  until  the  Old  Dominion 
joined  the  Confederacy  and  the  army  under  McDow- 
ell crossed  the  Potomac.  There  has  not  been  so 
much  since  then,  but  there  is  a  manifest  effort,  which 
finds  a  singularly  powerful  echo  in  several  of  the 
great  Northern  cities,  to  associate  Unionism  with 
Plebeianism  and  to  make  secession  proclivities  a  mark 
of  social  elevation,  if  not  of  some  sort  of  distant  rela- 
tionship with  the  European  aristocracies  which  are 
known  to  sympathize  so  strongly  with  the  South. 


52       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

There  is  no  denying  the  attractiveness  of  Southern 
society — the  charm  of  its  manner,  the  attainments, 
the  capacities  of  its  leaders  of  both  sexes.  Its  women 
were  a  power  here,  as  much,  almost,  as  were  its 
statesmen;  and  those  of  them  who  remain  are  slow 
to  yield  their  old  supremacy,  or  to  place  themselves 
in  relation  with  the  changed  order  of  things.  Mrs. 
Lincoln  came  to  Washington  with  a  distinct  under- 
standing of  her  social  duties  and  with  an  energetic 
purpose  to  perform  them.  Of  a  good  Kentucky 
family  and  of  very  fair  education,  she  had  been  early 
noted  for  the  keenness  of  her  wit,  and  the  position 
held  at  the  State  Capital  of  Illinois  during  many 
years  by  her  husband  had  prepared  her  for  taking  a 
leading  part.  That  she  should  make  a  success  here, 
under  such  circumstances,  under  the  focalized  bitter- 
ness of  all  possible  adverse  criticisms,  was  simply  out 
of  the  question;  but  she  has  done  vastly  better  than 
her  ill-natured  critics  are  at  all  willing  to  admit. 
They  are  a  jury  empaneled  to  convict  on  every 
count  of  every  indictment  which  any  slanderous 
tongue  may  bring  against  her,  and  they  have  al- 
ready succeeded  in  so  poisoning  the  popular  mind 
that  it  will  never  be  able  to  judge  her  fairly.  Her 
first  public  reception  was  held  in  the  parlors  of  Wil- 
lard's  Hotel,  on  the  25th  of  February,  1861,  before 
the  Inauguration,  and  it  was  largely  but  very  pro- 
miscuously attended.  The  first  of  the  regular  series 
of  Friday  evening  public  receptions  at  the  White 
House  was  held  on  the  8th  of  March  following,  and 
all  that  need  be  said  of  it  was  that  during  four  hours 
there  was  a  jam  from  the  eastern  gate  of  the  grounds, 


GIFTS   AND   VISITORS.  53 

of  people  coming  in,  to  the  western  gate,  of  peo- 
ple going  out;  and  that  during  two  and  a  half  hours 
the  President  shook  hands  with  everybody  that  pass- 
ed him.  Mrs.  Lincoln  tried  to  follow  his  example, 
but  had  to  give  it  up ;  and  he  asserted,  at  the  end  of 
it,  that  his  hand,  for  once,  was  too  lame  to  sign  any- 
thing. There  was  at  least  this  difference  between 
the  pack  of  1861  and  the  memorable  rush  in  Andrew 
Jackson's  day,  that  all  these  hand-shakers  were  ap- 
parently well  behaved  and  entirely  sober — it  was 
hardly  so  in  1829,  if  historians  have  correctly  pict- 
ured the  effect  of  the  "  superabundant  refreshments  " 
provided,  according  to  the  ideas  of  hospitality  pre- 
vailing at  that  day. 

A  great  deal  of  that  old  idea  survives,  lingering 
upon  the  sideboards  of  old  Washington  families;  in 
the  cupboards  of  professional  offices;  under  the  desks 
of  officeholders,  civil,  military  and  naval;  all  over 
all  of  the  hotels;  meeting  everybody  in  the  street, 
whenever  he  meets  anybody  else;  and  it  is  power- 
fully intrenched  under  each  of  the  two  Houses  of 
Congress,  at  the  Capitol,  and  its  very  citadel  is  the 
famous  "  Hole  in  the  Wall,"  convenient  to  the  Su- 
preme Court  Rooms  and  operating  as  a  half-way 
social  house  between  the  two  legislative  Houses. 
Sometimes  one  can  understand  the  old  time  better 
after  a  late-in-the-day  inspection  of  the  sociability 
going  on  in  the  Hole  in  the  Wall.  There  is  nothing 
of  the  sort  in  the  White  House  at  present,  for  Mr. 
Lincoln  is  strictly  abstinent  as  to  all  intoxicating 
drinks.  His  first  printed  paper,  written  while  a 
mere  boy,  was  a  vigorous   denunciation  of  the  evils 


54       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

produced  by  whiskey  among  the  settlers  in  the  back- 
woods of  his  then  own  State  of  Indiana.  We  are  to 
dine  with  him,  to-day,  by  special  invitation,  and  you 
will  see  for  yourself  that  there  is  no  wine  upon  his 
table;  but  a  large  number  of  Northern  newspaper 
editors  will  tell  you,  afterward,  that  your  eyes  de- 
ceived you,  and  that  the  President  was  much  the 
worse  after  dinner,  according  to  his  half-concealed 
custom.  It  is  when  he  has  been  drinking,  they  say, 
that  he  does  such  things  and  tells  such  stories.  The 
things,  political  and  warlike,  which  the  reporters 
may  see  fit  to  disapprove,  may  be  the  very  acts  for 
which  some  other  men  praise  him;  but  we  who  have 
been  in  and  out  of  the  White  House,  day  after  day, 
have  failed  to  hear  any  of  those  objectionable  stories. 
We  have  heard  pointed  illustrations  of  many  a  keen- 
edged  piece  of  common  sense,  but  then  they  could 
have  been  uttered  harmlessly  anywhere.  As  for  a 
vast  number  of  so-called  jokes,  attributed  to  him,  he 
has  never  so  much  as  heard  them;  but  one  very, 
very  witty  and  dirty  and  insolent  pun,  perpetrated 
by  him  upon  a  member  of  his  own  Cabinet,  through 
the  inventive  brains  of  a  well-known  newspaper  re- 
porter, representative  of  a  great  Northern  daily,  has 
been  carried  to  him,  and  the  literary  gentleman  has 
been  sent  for.  He  has  heretofore  enjoyed  special 
privileges  of  access  to  the  President  for  news  pur- 
poses, although  his  journal  is  a  severely  adverse 
critic.  Here  he  is,  now,  waiting  his  turn  to  go  into 
the  President's  room,  with  no  idea  whatever  why  he 
has  been  sent  for. 

He  is  a  jolly  fellow,  full  of  wit,  of  some  kinds,  and 


GIFTS    AND    VISITORS.  55 

that  joke  is  too  good  and  he  must  tell  it.  He  can- 
not keep  it  in,  and  out  it  comes,  while  the  paper- 
knife  slices  open  the  envelopes.  He  does  not  dream 
that  his  story  is  like  so  many  of  the  documents  the 
secretary  is  pulling  out  of  their  envelopes,  and  that 
it  has  been  "  respectfully  referred,"  but  to  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief and  not  to  any  Bureau.  He  did  not 
see  the  President's  face  flush  and  darken  when  the 
brand-new  pattern  of  foul  humor  was  given  him,  as 
being  circulated  in  his  name.  He  will  see  some- 
thing now,  however,  and  he  will  hear  something, 
for  Louis  has  come  to  summon  him  across  the  hall. 
He  goes,  all  smiles  and  chuckles,  for  no  doubt  a  lot 
of  army  and  other  news  is  ready  for  him,  or  even 
more  than  that,  something  from  Europe.  He  has 
been  in  the  President's  room  only  a  few  moments. 
There  he  is,  now,  coming  out  again,  and  he  is  not 
smiling.  Whatever  new  thing  he  has  learned  car- 
ries him  out  of  the  White  House  with  unusual  haste, 
and  he  may  be  taking  with  him  the  materials  for 
another  story. 

Does  the  good-natured,  soft-hearted,  easy-going, 
easily  led,  easily  deceived,  simple-minded  tenant  of 
the  White  House  ever  really  lose  his  temper  ? 

The  country  generally  does  not  believe  that  he 
ever  does  or  can,  but  the  right  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion is  that  under  exceedingly  trying  circumstances 
he  generally  succeeds  in  keeping  down  the  storm 
which  is  continually  stirred  up  within  him  by  the 
treacheries,  cowardices,  villainies  and  stupidities, 
which,  almost  daily  and  hourly,  he  is  compelled  to 
see  and  understand  and  wrestle  with  and  overcome. 


56"       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

He  is  an  old  criminal  lawyer,  practiced  in  observ- 
ing the  ways  of  rascals,  accustomed  to  reading 
them  and  circumventing  them,  but  he  does  not 
commonly  tell  any  man  precisely  what  he  thinks 
of  him. 

Some  of  the  best  of  men  come  to  call  upon  the 
President,  and  there  is  a  fine  example,  at  this  mo- 
ment, standing  near  his  office  door,  waiting  for  the 
audience  he  will  surely  obtain.  Beyond  a  doubt 
that  man  is  a  clergyman  of  high  caste — a  doctor  of 
divinity.  He  is  probably  a  great  gun  of  one  of  the 
great  sects,  sent  by  his  convocation  to  administer 
spiritual  advice  and  consolation  to  the  wearied,  over- 
burdened ruler  of  a  sympathizing  nation.  His  outfit 
is  the  perfection  of  clerical  uniform.  Shining  silk 
hat,  with  a  weed  half  way  up  its  glossy  cylinder. 
Costly  and  shining  broadcloth,  double-breasted,  with 
an  open-fronted  waistcoat  that  discloses  spotless 
linen  and  brightens  the  effect  of  his  profusely  volu- 
minous white  neckcloth  and  his  high  standing  collar. 
Heavy  gold  guard-chain  across  his  chest.  Boots 
that  are  as  black  mirrors,  and  he  is  tapping  one  of 
them  gently  with  a  gold-headed  cane  which,  perhaps, 
his  loving  congregation  presented  him.  His  eyes 
turn  upward,  now  and  then,  and  the  corners  of  his 
mouth  turn  down,  and  not  since  Mr.  Lincoln  entered 
this  house  has  there  been  so  much  apparent  profes- 
sional sanctity  upon  this  floor.  Thus  he  has  gone  in, 
and  he  will  surely  obtain  his  object,  for  the  President 
invariably  treats  with  marked  respect  all  clergymen 
of  all  denominations,  with  an  exceptional  increase 
on  behalf  of  Quakers,  including  the  fat,  unclerical 


GIFTS   AND   VISITORS.  57 

Quaker  whom  he  has  placed  at  the  head  of  a  Bureau 
of  the  Interior  Department. 

Nobody  knows  or  needs  to  know  the  nature  of  the 
interview  which  the  saint  in  fine  apparel  has  had 
with  Abraham  Lincoln.  He  is  coming  out  now, 
smiling  benevolently,  with  an  upward  cast  of  his 
eye-corners  and  a  downward  jerk  upon  each  side  of 
his  mouth.  He  is  satisfied,  no  doubt,  with  the  way 
in  which  he  has  done  his  duty;  but  it  is  time  for  us 
to  go  to  luncheon. 

There  is  pleasant  relief  in  getting  away  from  work 
and  out  into  the  open  air,  and  it  is  almost  always 
worth  while  to  look  in  at  Willard's  Hotel  on  the  way. 
It  is  a  great  place  to  go  to.  Drop  in  there  whenever 
you  can,  especially  in  the  evening.  More  news; 
more  great  men  from  all  over  the  country;  more 
generals,  of  all  sorts;  and,  if  you  can  go  up  into  the 
parlors  without  being  ushered  out  as  a  trespasser, 
you  will  find  more  pleasant  ladies  there,  and  more 
of  a  strangely  mingled  society  than  you  can  any- 
where else  in  Washington.  There  is  always  a 
stream  of  people  coming  and  going  between  Wil- 
lard's and  the  White  House.  The  hotel  rooms  are 
not  so  full  at  this  hour  of  the  day,  for  Congress  is  in 
session;  but  there  are  a  dozen  generals,  off  duty. 
Some  look  like  soldiers,  and  some  do  not.  Pass 
through  the  military  men,  who  are  discussing  other 
military  men,  as  a  rule.  That  wide  door  opens  into 
the  spacious  and  splendid  bar-room.  There  is  a 
knot  of  half  a  dozen  startlingly  well-dressed  men 
standing  by  the  bar,  and  the  range  of  tumblers  on 
the  mahogany  is  in  progress  of  being  lifted  by  them. 


58       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

They  wait,  for  a  moment,  while  one  of  their  num- 
ber completes  a  seemingly  interesting  account  of 
something  he  has  been  doing — that  is,  rather,  of 
some  person  whom  he  has  been  doing.  It  is  very 
interesting,  and  his  account  is  sneeringly  but  up- 
roariously applauded.  Do  you  know  him,  with  his 
white  necktie  and  shining  broadcloth  ?  It  is  the 
same  man  we  saw  coming  out  of  Lincoln's  room  a 
few  minutes  ago,  and  he  is  about  the  worst  man  in 
the  United  States;  and  these  are  thieves,  counter- 
feiters, blacklegs — the  scum  and  curse  of  the  earth. 
Down  go  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  up  go  the  cor- 
ners of  his  eyes,  and  he  closes  them  with  a  pious 
roll,  as  he  says,   "  Now,  brethren,  let  us  drink  !  " 

He  will  go  the  White  House  once  more,  and  only 
once,  and  he  will  go  into  the  President's  room,  and 
he  will  come  out ;  and  when  he  then  comes  through 
the  door  there  will  be  a  strange  vision  of  a  large  foot 
just  behind  him,  suggesting  to  any  naval  constructor 
the  idea  of  a  propeller.  Perhaps  the  most  interesting 
part  of  the  whole  affair  is  the  fact  that  he  did  not,  for 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  succeed  in  deceiving  Mr.  Lin- 
coln as  to  his  real  character.  He  was  received  from 
the  first  as  a  rogue,  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing,  but  his 
criminal  audacity  went  beyond  the  limits  of  patient 
endurance — and  so  he  was  also  sent  beyond  the  limits. 

It  is  about  dinner-time,  and  we  will  walk  over  to 
the  other  side  of  the  house.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
go  home  first,  and  put  on  a  swallow-tailed  coat,  for 
the  President  will  come  to  his  own  family  table  in 
the  same  dress  in  which  he  just  signed  a  European 


GIFTS   AND   VISITORS.  59 

treaty  and  the  commissions  of  a  dozen  generals. 
With  the  single  exception  of  the  absence  of  regula- 
tion dining  uniforms,  however,  there  will  be  dignity- 
enough,  even  in  an  entirely  homelike  and  informal 
dinnerparty;  for  the  somewhat  solemn  fact  that  this 
house  is  not  like  any  other  is  finding  recognition  and 
expression  in  many  ways. 

There  are  no  preliminaries,  but  we  watched  the 
going  of  the  President  and  are  here  with  him,  in 
ample  time,  although  he  himself  is  a  little  late. 
There  are  several  of  the  more  intimate  friends  of  the 
family  at  table,  now  we  are  seated,  and  there  is  no 
reason  why  the  plainest  of  them  should  not  feel  alto- 
gether at  home.  Mrs.  Lincoln  seems  to  be  even 
more  than  usually  full  of  life  and  hospitality,  and 
everything  goes  along  admirably  well. 

Are  the  foes  of  the  family  right,  after  all  ? 

There  is  wine  here,  and  a  bottle  of  champagne  has 
been  opened  !  A  glass  of  it  has  been  put  by  the 
President's  plate,  and  he  seems  to  be  taking  more 
than  a  little  interest  in  it.  He  takes  it  up  and  smells 
of  it,  and  laughs  merrily,  but  he  does  not  drink. 
There  is  a  story  connected  with  that  glass  of  wine, 
and  after  it  is  told  he  has  more  than  one  of  his  own 
to  tell  in  return.  Not  all  of  those  at  table  are  as 
rigid  abstainers  as  he  is,  however,  and  the  story  told 
by  Mrs.  Lincoln  brings  us  into  the  Red  Room  with 
her,  after  dinner,  for  an  important  private  consulta- 
tion. Not  by  any  means  all  of  the  wine-drinking 
people  of  the  North  are  Mr.  Lincoln's  enemies,  and 
not  all  of  his  fervent  friends  disapprove  of  his  sup- 
posed use  of  vinous  beverages.     Some  of  them,  lib- 


60      INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

eral  and  kindly  souls,  have  clubbed  together  and 
have  decided  that  he  is  to  be  supplied  with  the  very- 
best,  and  of  their  own  selection.  It  is  possible  that 
they  have  an  idea  of  stimulating  him  to  greater 
energy  in  the  prosecution  of  the  war.  At  all  events, 
they  have  forwarded  to  him  a  notable  assortment. 
It  has  arrived  in  safety,  and  it  is  waiting  in  one  of 
the  basement  storerooms,  while  Mrs.  Lincoln  tells 
what  there  is  of  it,  as  far  as  she  understands  the 
cases,  and  laughs  over  it  so  heartily  and  wonders 
what  she  is  to  do  with  so  very  peculiar  a  testimonial 
elephant. 

There  are  loads  of  champagne,  green  seal  and 
other  seal;  red  wines  of  several  kinds;  white  wine 
from  the  Rhine;  wines  of  Spain  and  Portugal  and 
the  islands;  whiskey  distilled  from  rye,  and  from 
wheat,  and  from  potatoes;  choice  brandy;  Jamaica 
rum,  and  Santa  Cruz  rum;  and  she  suspects  one  case 
of  containing  gin. 

"  They  do  not  seem  to  have  forgotten  anything, 
Mrs.  Lincoln,  unless  he  wanted  some  arrack  or 
vodke." 

"  But  what  is  to  be  done  ?  I  never  use  any,  and 
Mr.  Lincoln  never  touches  any.  Here  it  all  is,  and 
these  gentlemen — what  can  be  said  to  them  ?  " 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  to  be  done,  Mrs.  Lincoln. 
Acknowledge  the  gift  and  its  arrival,  with  all  kinds 
of  thanks,  and  add  that  you  have  distributed  it  among 
your  favorite  hospitals.  The  doctors  will  know  what 
to  do  with  it,  if  they  can  keep  it  away  from  the  hos- 
pital nurses." 

Mrs.  Lincoln  accepts  the  proposition  gladly,  and 


GIFTS   AND   VISITORS.  6l 

she  herself  will  carry  it  out  to  the  letter.  That  is 
the  destination  of  the  whole  consignment,  and  the 
purposes  of  the  senders  are  to  be  somewhat  more 
than  fulfilled.  Mrs.  Lincoln  has  been  a  regular  vis- 
itor among  the  hospitals  all  along,  and  it  pleases 
her  exceedingly  to  have  the  distribution  of  so  care- 
fully selected  a  medical  supply.  As  for  the  Presi- 
dent, he  has  gone  back  to  his  room  to  work,  and  he 
will  do  as  much  of  it  and  quite  as  well  as  he  would 
if  he  had  been  stimulated. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE    CRITICS    AND    THE    GAMBLERS. 

Aft  RS.  LINCOLN  is  absolute  mistress  of  all  that 
part  of  the  White  House  inside  of  the  vesti- 
bule, on  the  first  floor,  and  of  all  the  upper  floor  east 
of  the  folding  doors  across  the  hall  at  the  head  of 
the  stairs.  She  has  had  varied  assistance  in  the 
management  of  her  domain  since  she  came  into 
possession  of  it.  She  was  never  less  than  a  some- 
what authoritative  ruler  of  her  own  affairs,  but  it  is 
entirely  easy,  for  all  that,  to  meet  her  with  the  most 
positive  and  strenuous  negatives.  She  is  always 
ready  to  listen  to  argument  and  to  yield  to  plainly 
put  reasons  for  doing  or  for  not  doing,  provided  the 
arguments  come  from  a  recognized  friend,  for  her 
personal  antipathies  are  quick  and  strong,  and  at 
times  they  find  hasty  and  resentful  forms  of  expres- 
sion. 

It  was  not  easy,  at  first,  to  understand  why  a  lady 
who  could  be  one  day  so  kindly,  so  considerate,  so 
generous,  so  thoughtful  and  so  hopeful,  could,  upon 
another  day,  appear  so  unreasonable,  so  irritable,  so 
despondent,  so  even  niggardly,  and  so  prone  to  see 
the  dark,  the  wrong  side  of  men  and  women  and 
events.  It  is  easier  to  understand  it  all  and  to  deal 
with  it  after  a  few  words  from  an  eminent  medical 
practitioner.      Probably   all     physicians   and    most 

62 


THE  CRITICS  AND   THE   GAMBLERS.  63 

middle  -  aged  people  will  understand  better  than 
could  a  youthful  secretary  the  causes  of  a  sudden 
horror  of  poverty  to  come,  for  example,  which,  dur- 
ing a  few  hours  of  extreme  depression,  proposed  to 
sell  the  very  manure  in  the  Executive  stables,  and 
to  cut  off  the  necessary  expenses  of  the  household. 
No  demand  for  undue  economy  and  no  unhappiness 
of  disposition  could  be  discovered  a  week  or  so 
later.  People  in  great  need  of  something  spicy  td 
talk  or  write  about  are  picking  up  all  sorts  of  stray 
gossip  relating  to  asserted  occurrences  under  this  roof, 
and  they  are  making  strange  work  out  of  some  of  it. 
It  is  a  work  which  they  will  not  cease  from.  They 
will  do  it,  to  the  very  end,  so  effectively  that  a  host 
of  excellent  people  will  one  day  close  their  eyes  to  the 
wife's  robe  dabbled  with  her  husband's  blood.  There 
will  be,  in  that  day,  a  strange  blindness  and  brutal- 
ity concerning  the  awful  shock  produced  by  an  in- 
fernal murder  which  is  to  make  Mrs.  Lincoln  a 
widow  in  the  hour  which  will  seem  to  her  the  zenith 
of  her  life  and  of  her  husband's  career  and  her  own. 
Then  charity  and  chivalry  alike  will  be  forgotten  in 
the  sneering  comments  which  will  follow  the  re- 
maining days  of  a  disturbed  mind  and  a  shattered 
nervous  system.  Even  the  shadow  of  the  tomb  itself, 
at  last,  will  not  be  regarded  as  a  sufficient  curtain  to 
prevent  an  unjust  judgment  from  peering  through  and 
looking  back  to  this  time  and  reading  in  it  nothing 
but  the  prurient  scandals  of  this  feverish  war-time. 

It  is  indeed  feverish  to  the  last  degree,  for  nobody 
knows  what  will  be  the  end  of  this  matter.  The 
most  hopeful  of  us  walk  by  faith  and  not  by  sight. 


64       TNSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

The  nation  is  bleeding  terribly,  and  it  is  spending 
oceans  of  money.  We  know  that  we  must  pour  out 
more  blood  and  more  gold,  while  a  host  of  solemn 
prophets,  in  this  country  and  in  Europe,  are  assur- 
ing us  that  it  is  all  in  vain,  and  that  the  Great  Re- 
public of  the  West  is  on  its  death-bed.  The  fever 
is  in  everybody's  veins,  and  the  men  who  hope  for 
the  death,  and  who  rejoice  over  every  apparent  sign 
of  its  nearness,  are  numerous  in  the  city  of  Wash- 
ington, and  they  sometimes  even  pay  visits  to  the 
White  House. 

It  is  still  early,  after  the  quiet  dinner  of  the  Pres- 
ident and  his  family,  and  it  may  do  us  good  to  take 
an  evening  walk.  We  will  go  down  to  the  White 
House  grounds,  instead  of  around  by  way  of  the 
gate.  They  are  well  laid  out,  these  grounds,  until  you 
come  to  the  Mall,  and  they  present  an  attractive  ap- 
pearance on  Saturday  afternoons  in  summer,  when 
the  Marine  Band  is  playing,  and  groups  of  ladies  and 
gentlemen  and  children  are  strolling  around  over 
them.  Just  now  they  have  a  bare,  deserted,  wither- 
ed look  of  winter  and  hard  times,  and  we  are  de- 
pressed enough  by  some  of  the  news  from  the  seat 
of  war,  so  that  we  will  not  linger.  The  unfinished 
Treasury  building,  that  we  pass  in  going  out,  re- 
minds one  of  the  paper  promises  to  pay  which  are 
flowing  from  it  in  a  river.  There  are  vehement  as- 
sertions made  that  the  promises  will  not  be  kept, 
that  repudiation  will  surely  come,  and  that  these 
greenbacks  will  one  day  be  as  worthless  as  so  much 
Continental  currency.     If  we  walk  on  across  to  the 


THE   CRITICS   AND   THE   GAMBLERS.  6$ 

avenue,  it  is  of  little  consequence  which  way  we  go 
when  we  leave  it;  but  there  is  a  group  of  men  upon 
the  corner,  yonder,  who  are  in  bitter  antagonism  to 
anything  or  anybody  coming  from  the  White  House. 
Mark  the  tall  man  in  a  loose,  drab  overcoat,  and 
wearing  spectacles.  He  calls  himself  a  Union  man, 
from  Kentucky,  and  he  holds  a  commission  in  the 
Confederate  army,  and  he  is  here  as  a  spy.  Even 
Colonel  Baker,  however,  cannot  yet  get  hold  of 
proof  enough  either  to  lock  him  up  or  to  send  him 
beyond  the  lines. 

You  do  not  know  Baker  ?  The  head  of  the  de- 
tective service  ?  There  are  many  who  do  not,  but 
if  any  other  man  has  been  here  long  enough,  with 
anything  dubious  about  him,  Baker  knows  him.  He 
sometimes  comes  to  the  White  House,  and  he  is  a 
very  useful  officer.  He  is  one  of  the  long  fingers  of 
the  Executive  branch  of  the  Government. 

The  dark -haired,  eagle- nosed,  brilliant -eyed, 
strikingly  handsome  man  is  a  Copperhead  Con- 
gressman. He  is  fastidiously  well-dressed  now,  but 
there  are  some  ways  in  life  which  lead  inevitably 
downward.  Next  beyond  him,  with  no  beauty  at 
all  but  such  as  the  tailor  has  given  him,  is  another 
Northern  enemy  of  the  Union.  You  cannot  feel 
toward  those  men  as  you  do  toward  Southerners 
with  arms  in  their  hands.  The  pair  of  dandies  with 
them  are  mere  sporting  men,  and  it  is  asserted  that 
the  entire  sporting  fraternity  here  leans  toward  se- 
cession. Its  best  patrons  and  victims,  heretofore, 
have  been  the  reckless  spendthrifts  whose  money 
was   earned    for  them  by  the  unpaid  toil  of  other 


66       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

men,  and  the  sportsmen  have  not  yet  made  profit- 
able connections  with  the  present  financial  system. 
What  are  they  all  on  that  corner  for  ?  Well,  that 
closed-up-looking  brick  building  is  the  famous  gam- 
bling establishment  known  as  Joe  Hall's,  and  it  con- 
tains a  great  deal  of  one  of  the  lessons  of  the  day. 
There  was  always  a  gambling  fever  in  Washington, 
which  broke  out  in  this  spot,  but  now  there  are  six 
or  seven  well-known  dens  right  on  the  avenue,  be- 
tween this  and  the  Capitol,  and  nobody  knows  how 
many  more  are  scattered  arourtd  on  other  thorough- 
fares. All  the  vice  and  profligacy  of  all  the  North 
and  West  and  of  part  of  the  South  seem  to  be 
sewering  into  this  great  frontier  post  and  pay-sta- 
tion of  the  army.  There  are  more  dance-houses, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  than  you  could  consent  to 
dream  of,  as  if  the  gates  of  hell  opened  always  in 
the  rear  of  great  wars.  This  gambling  feature  of  the 
general  fever  is  pestilential;  but  that  entire  group 
of  men  is  entering  the  building,  and  if  we  go  with 
them  we  may  learn  something.  We  belong  to  the 
class  of  men  who  are  admitted,  and,  although  we 
never  play,  we  can  put  down  five  dollars  some- 
where, and  lose  it,  to  pay  for  what  we  are  to  learn. 
That's  right — on  the  roulette  table — it  is  gone,  aud 
we  are  free  to  look  around.  Look  closely,  for  we 
shall  not  find  one  man  here  of  doubtful  social  posi- 
tion. This  is  not  a  place  for  any  but  "  gentlemen," 
and  even  now  one  of  the  managers,  a  handsome  old 
man,  with  deep  wrinkles  and  gray  hair  at  thirty,  is 
coming  this  way  with  a  question  to  ask. 

"  You  know  everybody,"  he  says.  "Some  of  these 


THE   CRITICS   AND    THE   GAMBLERS.  67 

men  are  strangers  to  me.  Are  there  any  Treasury 
men  here  ?  Any  paymasters,  or  quartermasters,  or 
commissaries,  or  Government  clerks,  or  army  or 
navy  officers  in  charge  of  money,  and  so  forth  ?" 

"  Not  a  man  of  the  kind,  so  far  as  I  am  able  to 
tell  you.     Why?" 

"  Strict  orders  from  the  War  Department  and 
Baker's  men." 

"  Of  course.     They're  here." 

"We  wish  to  obey  orders.  It's  not  for  our  interest 
to  have  any  scandals  traced  here.    It  would  hurt  us." 

He  turns  away;  but  he  need  not  have  any  anx- 
iety, for  it  is  a  rarely  select  assembly.  That  bent 
old  gentleman,  betting  heavily  at  the  faro  table,  is 
a  Avealthy  Maryland  planter,  and  he  should  not 
throw  away  money,  for  it  is  just  as  he  says  to  the 
Congressman  next  him:  all  his  slaves  are  leaving 
him,  and  there  is  no  power  on  earth  to  bring  them 
back.  That  is  a  judge,  and  those  are  jurists,  and 
those  are  men  of  finance.  Nearly  a  dozen  Congress- 
men, mixed  up  with  contractors,  lobbyists  of  the 
successful  stripe,  business  men  from  the  North, 
travelers  seeing  the  sights,  and  a  very  few  army 
men  on  leave.  That  really  noble-looking  gentle- 
man, playing  high  at  the  faro  table,  had  a  long  in- 
terview with  the  President  to-day.  He  is  a  political 
leader,  and  he  was  formerly  a  bosom  friend  of  Dan- 
iel Webster.  Near  him  is  a  keen-visaged  politi- 
cian, who  was  as  near  to  Henry  Clay.  There  are 
curious  Washington  traditions  concerning  the  luck 
at  cards,  good  and  bad,  of  the  old-time  party  idols. 
It  is  possible  that  this  building  contains,  this  evening, 


68       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

more  of  the  "  old  time  "  than  does  any  other  in  the 
Capital.  Men  are  passing  away  fast,  however,  and 
with  them  is  passing  the  era  of  American  political 
history  to  which  they  belonged.  It  is  very  nearly  a 
true  saying  that  all  that  remains  of  that  era  is  a  clog 
and  hindrance  to  the  Administration. 

It  is  too  late  to  return  to  the  White  House  to- 
night, but  the  lesson  of  Joe  Hall's  need  not  be  for- 
gotten. The  difficulties  which  harass  the  President 
can  be  better  appreciated  by  bearing  in  mind  that  he 
is  dealing  with  an  untellable  mass  of  defective  human 
nature. 

As  for  gambling,  almost  everybody  played  cards 
in  the  old  society  of  Washington,  and  the  custom  of 
"  making  the  game  interesting  "  has  by  no  means 
passed  away.  The  limit  at  the  club  is  five  dollars  a 
corner  at  whist,  and  half  as  much  for  euchre,  but  no 
rule  really  limits  gambling.  The  mania  for  it  has 
broken  out  in  other  forms,  as  one  exhibit  of  the  prev- 
alent mental  fever.  Almost  every  man  who  can 
discover  means  for  doing  so  is  gambling  in  stocks 
and  gold.  The  latter  provides  the  more  exciting 
game  of  chance  because  of  the  card-like  fascination 
of  the  sudden  and  unaccountable  jumps  and  falls  of 
what  are  called  its  prices,  meaning  the  price  of 
greenbacks.  They  are  rather  the  pulsations  of  the 
public  hope  and  fear  concerning  the  national  credit. 

There  are  patriotic  men  not  a  few,  who  cannot 
bring  themselves  to  the  rashness  of  buying  gold  for 
a  rise,  lest  they  should  go  against  the  public  good, 
but  who  grasp  at  every  encouragement  to  play 
"  bear  "  and  sell  gold  short,  in  the  wild  idea  that  so 


THE   CRITICS   AND    THE   GAMBLERS.  69 

they  are  helping  to  push  it  down,  and  are  strengthen- 
ing the  Treasury  and  the  Government  while  they 
are  winning  a  little  money  for  themselves. 

Does  the  President  take  any  interest  in  Wall  Street 
gambling  operations  ?  0.f  course  he  does,  for  the 
currency  is  the  life  of  his  policy.  He  was  talking 
about  it  at  the  dinner-table  yesterday,  when  we  were 
there.  We  must  go  right  over  now,  and  hand  him 
that  paper. 

There  is  a  peculiarly  humorous  expression  on  his 
face,  as  he  looks  up. 

"  What  is  the  price  of  gold  this  morning  ?  Is  it  go- 
ing up  or  down  ?" 

"  Up,  Mr.  Lincoln.     The  Street  is  wild." 

"Well,  now,  they  don't  know  everything.  If  I 
were  a  bear  on  Wall  Street,  and  if  I  were  short  of 
gold,  I'd  keep  short.     It's  a  good  time  to  sell." 

He  never  gives  any  explanations,  but  he  adds 
something  bitter  about  bulls  that  may  be  tossed 
themselves,  and  we  will  go  back  to  work. 

Is  not  that  one  of  the  most  remarkable  looking 
men  you  ever  saw  ?  The  tall  hawk-eyed  man,  who 
cannot  stand  still,  but  keeps  on  walking,  walking, 
up  and  down  the  room.  He  is  saying  something  to 
himself,  aloud: 

"  I'll  stop,  right  where  I  am  !  If  it  goes  on  up,  it'll 
break  me  !" 

"What's  the  matter,  Dr.  Durant?" 

"  Short  of  gold  !  Sold  my  head  off!  And  now 
it's  just  booming.  Time  for  me  to  take  it  in,  I  guess, 
and  stand  my  losses  just  as  they  are," 


JO       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

"  Now,  Dr.  Durant,  they  don't  know  everything. 
If  I  were  a  bear  on  Wall  Street,  and  if  I  were  short 
of  gold,  I'd  keep  short.     It's  a  good  time  to  sell." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  Can  you  send  a  telegram  from  here, 
.for  me  ?     Give  me  a  blank  !" 

Telegram  after  telegram  is  dashed  off  rapidly  by 
the  relieved  bear,  and  a  messenger  carries  them  out 
after  him.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  price  of  gold 
will  drop  heavily,  for  he  needs  all  his  money  and 
credit.  He  is  undertaking  to  build  the  Pacific  Rail- 
road, and  to  save  the  Pacific  slope  to  the  Union.  As 
to  the  President's  unintentional  suggestion,  no  other 
such  instance  has  occurred  or  probably  ever  will. 
Nothing  done  in  or  about  the  White  House  has  any- 
thing to  do  with  the  course  of  things  on  Wall  Street. 
The  results  of  battles  are  known  in  New  York  even 
before  they  are  in^Washington,  only  that  the  reports 
received  there  never  tally  with  those  received  by  the 
War  Office.  The  President  and  the  Secretary  of  War 
would  be  ruined  if  they  should  attempt  to  play  bulls 
and  bears  upon  the  strength  of  any  dispatches  sent 
them  by  the  generals. 

Speaking  of  society  matters,  the  history  of  Capital 
cities  shows  that  any  political  society  must  neces- 
sarily be  somewhat  loosely  constructed.  Queer 
candidates  will  surely  gain  admission  and  recogni- 
tion, now  and  then.  There  was  never  a  time  when 
anything  like  censorship  was  more  difficult  than  it  is 
here  at  present. 

The  Secession  Jacobites  believe  that  they  have  a 
comparatively  easy  time  of  it,  but  there  are  anec- 


THE   CRITICS    AND   THE   GAMBLERS.  71 

dotes  in  circulation.  They  can,  indeed,  close  their 
aristocratic  doors  against  Vandals  of  every  grade, 
and  they  have  felt  entirely  safe  in  their  seclusion. 
Now,  however,  it  is  heartlessly  related  that  their 
zealous  readiness  to  accept  as  pure  gold  every  ar- 
rival from  the  sunny  but  persecuted  land  of  the  Stars 
and  Bars  has  led  to  the  reception  of  sundry  ambas- 
sadors extraordinary  from  the  wide  and  wonderful 
realm  of  Fraud.  Even  secretly  exhibited  commis- 
sions in  the  Confederate  army  have  not  always  been 
drawn  from  the  inner  pockets  of  the  irreproachable. 
Only  too  often,  it  is  said,  have  the  gates  of  gushing 
sympathy  been  opened  to  guests  whose  absence 
from  their  posts  in  the  ranks  of  Lee,  for  instance, 
was  largely  due  to  the  fact  that  such  gentlemen  as 
Lee  had  no  use  for  them.  The  end  of  such  things  is 
generally  borrowed  money  and  a  missing  hero,  whose 
duties  here  as  a  "  spy  "  ended  as  soon  as  he  discern- 
ed that  his  errand  as  a  dead-beat  was  accomplished. 

The  Washington  coteries,  therefore,  are  as  yet  dis- 
posed to  be  somewhat  narrow,  but  the  business  in- 
stincts of  Northern  theatrical  and  musical  managers, 
especially  of  the  lower  grades,  have  done  a  great  deal 
toward  making  up  the  deficiency.  There  is  enough 
and  to  spare  to  fill  up  the  evenings  of  those  whose 
gas-light  hours  are  unoccupied  by  duties. 

There  is  to  be  a  concert  of  music  to-night,  instead 
of  a  theatrical  performance,  at  Ford's.  A. prima  don- 
na will  sing  there,  with  much  help.  She  is  one  of  the 
long  procession  of  queens  of  song  who  are  great  for 
a  season  and  then  cease  to  be  immortal,  but  she  is 
advertised  as  the  equal  of  any  queen  who  has  pre- 


72       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

ceded  her.  Mrs.  Lincoln  has  been  urged  to  go,  and 
to  take  the  President  with  her,  and  she  has  succeed- 
ed in  obtaining  his  assent.  Down  in  the  Red  Room, 
just  now,  she  was  relating  to  two  or  three  of  us  what 
a  task  it  was,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  is  fond  of 
music.  He  is  also  strongly  averse  to  a  swallow- 
tailed  coat  and  kids,  and  the  battle  was  nearly  lost 
over  the  latter.  She  has  invited  quite  a  party  to  fill 
the  President's  box,  and  we  are  not  wanted  there. 
In  fact,  we  have  so  much  work  on  hand  that  we 
shall  get  in  a  little  late,  at  the  best. 

So,  in  the  result,  does  the  President's  entire  party, 
for  he  was  detained  by  national  business,  and  hardly 
was  able  to  keep  his  promise  to  Mrs.  Lincoln.  He 
put  one  of  his  gloves  on  after  he  left  the  White 
House,  but  the  other  will  "never  all  go  on,  for  there 
is  a  Manassas  Gap  created  between  its  thumb  and 
forefinger,  which  tells  of  weak  leather  and  a  strong 
right  hand. 

What  a  dense  pack  there  is  in  the  theatre,  and  how 
many  volunteers  must  recently  have  been  paid  off! 

There  is  an  immense  amount  of  loyalty,  no  doubt, 
in  this  assembly,  for  it  rises  as  the  President  enters, 
and  gives  him  a  round  of  cheers,  after  vigorously 
stamping  at  the  first  indication  of  his  presence.  He 
has  but  just  seated  himself  when  a  harsh,  croaking 
voice  in  the  middle  aisle,  loud  enough  to  be  heard 
all  over  the  house,  exclaims  : 

"  He  hasn't  any  business  here !  That's  all  he 
cares  for  his  poor  soldiers !  " 

There  was  a  second  of  angry  silence.  "  Put  him 
out !     Put  him  out !  "     But  even  louder  than  that  is 


THE   CRITICS   AND    THE   GAMBLERS.  ?3 

the  indignant  declaration  uttered  in  a  wrathful  ac- 
cent, telling  of  the  Rhine,  as  well  as  of  common 
sense  : 

"  De  President  has  a  right  to  hees  music  !  He 
ees  goot  to  come  !  He  shall  haf  hees  music  !  Dot 
ees  vot  I  shay !     He  shall  haf  hees  music  !  " 

The  somebody  in  the  middle  aisle  is  discovered 
not  to  be  a  soldier,  but  the  discovery  is  made  by 
soldiers,  and  they  are  not  making  any  noise  over  it 
whatever.  They  do  not  hurt  him.  They  only  hoist 
him  up  bodily  and  carry  him  to  the  door,  and,  as 
John  Bunyan  says,  "  I  saw  him  no  more." 

The  President  has  seemingly  paid  no  attention  to 
the  unpleasant  little  incident.  The  orchestra  took 
a  hint  from  somebody  and  struck  up  a  storm  ol 
patriotic  music,  and  now,  as  that  dies  away,  out 
walks  the  prima  donna,  and  Mr.  Lincoln  and  all  the 
volunteers  present  will  have  their  music.  Whether 
or  not  he  will  listen  to  it  successfully  is  quite  an- 
other matter. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

BRONZES  AND   EARTHWORKS. 

""THERE  is  hardly  any  other  public  question  of 
greater  interest,  at  the  present,  than  is  that  of 
our  national  paper  money.  Every  man  has  or  wish- 
es to  have  some  of  it  in  his  pocket,  and  is  greatly  ex- 
ercised in  mind  as  to  its  value.  The  prevailing  im- 
pression is  that  it  is  not  a  safe  thing  to  keep,  for 
there  was  never  before  so  much  reckless  extrav- 
agance. So  it  was,  the  records  tell  us,  in  the  days 
of  the  old  Continental  currency.  Army  officers  lived 
fast  then,  as  too  many  of  them  are  living  now,  and 
it  was  that  sort  of  folly  which  began  the  ruin  of  Gen- 
eral Benedict  Arnold. 

There  is  a  very  deep  interest  in  these  national  en- 
gravings, representing  dollars,  and  one  of  the  Wash- 
ington papers  last  evening  printed  a  stiffly  formal 
notice  that  "  the  original  greenback  "  would  be  on 
free  exhibition  at  8  o'clock  this  morning  in  front 
of  the  President's  house.  No  doubt  there  will  be  a 
crowd  gathered  for  a  look  at  such  a  show  as  that, 
and  we  will  be  on  hand  half  an  hour  or  so  ahead 
of  time. 

Almost  all  of  these  residences,  larger  or  smaller, 
around  this  open  square  opposite  the  White  House, 
are  connected  with  historical  reminiscences.  We 
have  no  time  now  for  anecdotes.    Out  there,  in  the 

74 


BRONZES   AND-  EARTHWORKS.  75 

middle  of  the  square,  is  the  equestrian  marvel  in 
bronze  which  did  so  much  for  Clark  Mills.  It  also  did 
something  for  Andrew  Jackson,  recording  the  fact 
that  he  was  a  good  horseman,  and  could  keep  the 
saddle  while  the  brute  under  him  was  on  his  hind 
feet.  Also,  that  he  always  rode  a  horse  with  a  high 
rolling  tail,  of  a  size  and  sweep  sufficient  to  balance 
the  animal  himself  after  both  were  turned  into  bronze. 
Just  before  Lincoln  got  here,  and  when  the  city 
seemed  to  be  all  one  hothouse  of  sympathy  with  Se- 
cession, that  statue  did  something  better  than  to 
merely  keep  its  balance.  It  was  very  much  the 
fashion  among  the  young  women  sympathizers  and 
some  others,  to  wear  what  were  called  secession  ro- 
settes. Early  one  morning,  Andrew  Jackson's  brass 
horse  got  hold  of  altogether  the  largest  and  most 
brilliant  rosette  of  that  kind  that  had  yet  been  seen, 
and  he  put  it  on  at  the  beginning  of  his  grand, 
sweeping  tail,  where  it  might  swing  joyously  at  its 
gay  blue  ribbon  in  the  winds  from  north  or  south. 
The  sharp  iron  spikes  of  the  high  railing  protected 
the  rosette  until  it  had  been  seen  by  many  passers- 
by.  One  of  them  remarked:  "That's  what  makes 
him  rear  so  !  I  would,  if  they  put  one  of  those  things 
on  me." 

There  were  remarks  in  abundance,  but  the  greater 
number  of  those  who  came  and  saw  went  away  in 
hot  indignation,  and  went  so  far  as  to  say  that  their 
flag  had  been  insulted. 

It  is  getting  near  the  hour  for  the  exhibition  of  the 
"original  greenback,"  and  here  we  are  in  the  White 
House   portico.     If  you  are  curious  about  reminis- 


yG       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

ccnces,  do  you  sec  that  foot-worn  stone,  a  couple  of 
yards  from  the  threshold  of  this  republican  palace  ? 
That  is  where  Lincoln  and  Buchanan  parted,  it  is 
said,  after  the  inauguration  ceremony,  when  the  old 
republic  passed  away,  and  the  new  era  began.  Lin- 
coln went  into  the  house  and  upstairs  to  his  work- 
room, and  Buchanan  went  to  Wheatlands,  but  they 
parted  like  two  personally  friendly  and  patriotic  gen- 
tlemen, each  hoping  for  the  best  and  fearing  the 
worst. 

Those  were  troubled  days,  here  and  hereabout. 
Nothing  has  yet  been  done  to  remove  the  all  but 
threadbare  appearance  of  this  place.  Perhaps  these 
foot-worn  flagstones  do  much  to  give  it  its  peculiar 
tone,  but  so  does  that  mournful  green-bronze  statue 
of  Lafayette,  facing  the  other  way,  out  there  in  the 
inclosure  in  front  of  the  house.  It  is  a  sad-looking 
bit  of  statuary,  and  there  is  some  talk  of  removing 
it,  but  nobody  seems  to  know  what  to  do  with  it,  or 
with  the  bath-room  statue  of  Mr.  Jupiter  Washing- 
ton in  the  vacant  lot  beyond  the  Capitol. 

It  is  nearly  8  o'clock,  and  there  they  come.  Who 
would  have  thought  that  the  "  original  greenback  " 
would  draw  in  this  fashion  ?  It  is  a  regular  proces- 
sion all  the  way  up  the  avenue,  and  its  head  is  com- 
ing in  at  the  gate.  There  is  another  procession 
coming  from  the  opposite  direction.  No  doubt  those 
people  are  studying  the  currency  question,  some  in 
one  way,  and  some  in  another;  but  many  of  them 
look  as  if  they  had  not  seen  a  greenback  in  some 
time.  They  will  see  one  now.  The  foremost  files 
have  reached  the  portico,  and  that  fishy-eyed  man 


BRONZES   AND   EARTHWORKS.  77 

is  pointing  out  something.     It  is  very  green  !     It  is 
the  back  of  the  bronze  Lafayette! 

Not  a  man  in  that  procession  confesses  that  he 
came  to  see  any  show,  but  file  after  file  arrives  and 
looks,  and  goes  thoughtfully  away  about  some  busi- 
ness or  other.  We  may  as  well  go  upstairs  to  work, 
for  we  also  have  business  on  hand. 

The  time  was,  long  ago,  when  the  generally  ac- 
cepted doctrine,  even  among  civilized  men,  was  that 
the  natural  state  of  men  and  nations  is  a  state  of  war. 
Interludes  of  peace  were  regarded  as  allowable,  as 
provision  for  needful  rest  and  preparation,  but  it  was 
held  that  they  ought  not  to  be  permitted  to  continue 
unhealthfully.  The  times  and  the  doctrine  have 
changed,  and  war  is  now  looked  upon  as  something 
exceptional  and  evil,  but  its  presence  brings  with  it 
a  powerful  suggestion  that  it  has  its  moral  uses,  and 
that  it  may  operate  as  a  priceless  social  surgery. 

Beyond  a  doubt  this  country  had  all  but  lost  any 
knowledge  of  war,  whether  regarded  as  a  good  or  as 
an  evil,  or  only  as  an  abnormal  science  or  a  ques- 
tionable trade.  The  land  was  and  is  swarming  full 
of  "  the  cankers  of  a  calm  world  and  a  long  peace," 
as  Captain  Jack  Falstaff  called  them,  and  a  vast 
number  of  them  have  been  swarming  toward  these 
frontier  headquarters,  from  the  roll  of  the  first  drum, 
which  seems  to  wake  them  up  and  summon  them  as 
distinctly  as  it  summoned  the  volunteers. 

Perhaps  actual  insanity  is  not  on  the  increase,  but 
the  war-fever  may  be  bringing  out  much  that  was 
latent.     Surely  lunacy  must  be  using  the  pen  more 


78       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

freely  than  ever  before,  to  judge  by  what  one  finds 
in  the  newspapers,  and  to  think  of  the  mass  of  stuff 
which  even  these  excited  editors  must  be  inducing 
themselves  not  to  print.  The  keepers  of  the  front 
door  of  the  White  House  are  capable  fellows,  and 
it  is  not  often  that  an  out-and-out  lunatic  can  pass 
by  their  keen  inspection;  but  they  are  not  infallible, 
and  there  are  many  kinds  of  insanity. 

"  I  must  see  the  President !  " 

"  Have  you  sent  in  your  card,  madame  ?  The 
messenger  out  in  the  hall  will  take  it." 

She  is  of  medium  height,  and  not  ill-looking,  now 
that  you  glance  up  from  your  work  and  see  some- 
thing in  her  face  which  compels  you  to  look  again. 
She  is  dressed  in  rusty  mourning,  with  a  preposter- 
ously large  miniature  pin  fastening  her  wide  lace 
collar,  and  she  is  scrupulously  neat.  She  seems 
only  a  little  nervous  at  first,  but  does  not  stand  still 
while  she  is  talking. 

"  I  don't  want  any  cards  !  I  want  to  see  the  Pres- 
ident. I  will  see  him !  He  must  give  me  my  rights. 
I  want  my  rights.     He  can  give  me  the  right." 

"  But  madame " 

"  I  want  my  right.  They  have  robbed  me  of  my 
right.  He  can  give  it  back  to  me.  A  divorced  wid- 
ow's right !     I  will  have  it  !     He  is  President !  " 

Not  at  all  boisterous,  but  rather  low-toned  is  her 
voice,  and  it  is  becoming  more  and  more  emphatic 
and  she  speaks  more  rapidly. 

"  I  do  not  think  the  President  can  see  you  to-day, 
ma'am.     He  is  very  busy  about  the  war." 

"  So  he  is.     Busy  about  the  war.     I   forgot  that. 


15RONZES   AND    EARTHWORKS.  79 

But  I  want  my  right.  A  divorced  widow's  right. 
Yes,  sir;  if  I  can't  see  him  now,  I'll  come  some  other 
time.     He  is  President.     I  will  have  my  right." 

It  is  the  saddest  face  you  have  seen  for  many  a 
day.  She  is  gentle,  however,  even  in  her  madness, 
and  she  walks  hurriedly  away  and  does  not  come 
again. 

There  are  crazy  visitors  whose  peculiarities  do  not 
at  once  arouse  sympathy,  including  the  apparently 
perfectly  sane  little  gentleman  who  dresses  so  well, 
and  who  comes  again  and  again  to  urge  upon  any- 
body he  may  meet  in  the  White  House  the  obvious 
propriety  of  appointing  him  to  the  command  of  a 
brigade.  He  has  served  in  the  militia  of  his  own 
State,  and  his  grandfather  was  an  officer  in  the  War 
of  the  Revolution,  and,  as  his  circumstances  are  at 
present,  he  is  really  in  need  of  the  pay,  he  freely 
declares,  as  a  suitable  addition  to  his  income.  He 
may  not  be  so  wildly  insane,  when  he  modestly 
compares  his  own  claims  and  qualifications  with 
those  of  a  number  who  have  already  been  appointed. 
In  fact,  there  are  no  other  traces  of  actual  lunacy 
about  him,  and  he  has  loads  of  perseverance,  which 
is  a  good  thing  for  a  general  to  have. 

One  reason  for  getting  here  early  this  morning 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  "  original  greenback,"  and 
the  table  is  decently  cleared  to  be  left  for  a  few  hours. 

"  Mr.  President,  I'd  like  to  go  over  the  river  and 
inspect  the  army.  I'm  going  as  far  as  Wadsworth's 
camp." 

"  Going  to  dine  with  him  ?  I'll  give  you  a  pass " 


8o       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

He  picks  up  a  card,  and  says  something  in  praise 
of  Wadsworth  while  he  is  writing.  He  signs  it,  and 
it  is  as  if  your  latch-key  had  been  transferred  to  that 
card.  It  is  an  autograph  to  be  treasured  long,  for  it 
is  your  first  general  pass  from  the  Commander-in- 
Chief,  addressed,  as  it  were,  "  to  whom  it  may  con- 
cern." 

"  There  !  Now  you'd  better  get  one  at  the  War 
Department." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Lincoln.  I'll  report  when  I 
come  back  if  I  find  the  army." 

"  Oh,  you  will.  It's  there.  That's  just  what's  the 
difficulty." 

The  War  Office  officials  readily  provide  an  ample 
supplement  to  such  a  pass  as  the  President  has  writ- 
ten, and  now  for  the  army  ! 

Strangely  enough,  there  is  less  army  to  be  seen 
around  Washington  than  there  was  earlier  in  the 
season,  although  the  arrivals  are  continuous,  and 
the  entrenchments  and  forts  are  continually  con- 
structing on  every  side. 

There  is  better  discipline,  no  doubt,  and  fewer 
furloughs  are  granted,  for  General  McClellan  is  an 
admirable  organizer.  At  no  other  time  has  there 
been  quite  so  much  army  in  Washington,  all  at  once, 
as  there  was  just  after  Bull  Run.  Then,  however, 
it  did  not  come  precisely  as  an  army,  although  it 
was  in  uniform.  It  was  rather  a  hungry  mob  in 
search  of  something  to  eat  and  of  listeners  to  whom 
it  could  tell  its  story  of  the  marvels  of  that  remark- 
able field. 

Among  the  listeners  found  were  a  number  of  intel- 


BRONZES   AND    EARTHWORKS.  8l 

tigent  penmen  and  penwomen,  who  immediately  sat 
down  and  wrote  accounts  of  the  battle,  as  they  heard 
them  from  men  who  had  fought  and  bled  and  died 
and  run  away,  and  the  accounts  they  wrote  were 
printed,  and  some  got  into  what  is  called  "history." 
All  through  those  days,  however,  the  real  "  army,"  in 
good  heart,  and  in  sufficient  force,  was  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Potomac,  and  furnished  the  clear-headed 
Confederate  commander  with  an  answer  to  the  hys- 
terical question  so  fiercely  propounded  to  him  by  his 
civilian  friends,  "  why  he  did  not  at  once  go  forward 
and  capture  Washington."  There  were  too  many 
riflemen  in  the  way,  not  at  all  panicky,  and  new 
earthworks,  with  more  cannon,  were  going  up  every 
hour,  while  the  Confederate  forces  were  severely 
aware  that  they  had  recently  won  a  victory.  The 
result  at  Bull  Run  bore  a  singularly  strong  analogy 
to  that  of  Sumter  in  its  uses,  as  they  were  understood 
at  the  desk  by  the  window  of  the  President's  room. 
The  first  "  victory,"  gained  in  Charleston  Harbor 
by  the  Confederacy,  enabled  Mr.  Lincoln  to  sit  down 
at  that  table  and  write  a  proclamation  calling  for 
75,000  militia,  under  the  provision  of  law,  and  to  issue 
orders  for  at  once  enlisting  as  many  more,  volun- 
teers, regulars  and  seamen,  without  any  law  what- 
ever. The  Bull  Run  affair  put  him  into  his  chair 
again,  pen  in  hand,  to  ask  Congress  for  $400,000,000 
and  400,000  men,  and  the  legislators  gave  him  more 
than  he  asked,  mainly  because  they  had  all  been 
talked  to  by  the  runaway  soldiers,  and  had  obtained 
new  ideas  about  war. 

This  is  the  famous  Long  Bridge,  and  passes  are  of 


82       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

more  importance  and  are  more  rigidly  inspected 
here  than  at  any  point  north  or  south  of  these  watch- 
ful sentries.  Right  here,  at  the  draw,  lean  over  the 
railing  and  look  down  into  the  muddy  water.  That 
eddy  is  over  the  mid-channel,  and  a  line  drawn 
through  it  marks  the  southern  boundary  of  the  United 
States,  as  it  is  understood  by  the  citizens  of  the  Con- 
federacy. You  cannot  make  it  real  ?  They  have 
pledged  their  lives,  their  fortunes,  and  their  sacred 
honor,  that  they  will  make  it  real,  and  there  are  no 
other  men  on  this  earth  who  would  more  surely  keep 
their  pledge. 

Did  you  ever  see  such  tremendous  earthworks  as 
are  these  we  reach  and  pass  ?  Well,  nobody  else 
ever  did,  and  it  takes  much  riding  and  walking  to 
really  see  all  of  one  of  them;  but,  after  seeing,  one 
can  have  a  better  idea  of  the  true  relations  between 
one  or  all  of  these  vast  defenses  and  the  White 
House  that  is  protected  by  them.  It  was  so  terribly 
hard  to  believe  that  the  Government  of  the  United 
States  lived  in  a  fort ! 

Did  you  ever  before  see  a  great  camp,  or  a  great 
army  ?  No  ?  We  have  ridden  fast  and  far,  and  we 
have  not  seen  one  to-day.  Nobody  else  ever  saw 
one,  unless  looking  down  from  some  eminence  upon 
forces  in  lowlands. 

There  are  roads  running  in  all  directions.  There 
are  tents,  wagons,  lines  of  cavalry  and  infantry  on 
the  march  or  on  parade,  and  there  are  trains  of  ar- 
tillery, stationary  or  in  motion.  We  have  found  dust, 
mud,  earthworks,  huts,  guns  in  position,  but  where 
is  this  great  army? 


BRONZES   AND   EARTHWORKS.  83 

The  fact  that  so  little  of  it  can  be  seen  at  once 
explains  one  mystery  of  the  first  reports  from  many 
a  battle. 

A  great  army  covers  a  great  deal  of  ground,  and 
a  great  battle  may  be  fought  over  three  or  four  town- 
ships, or  half  a  county,  and  so  it  is  not  always  easy, 
at  first,  to  know  what  has  become  of  the  victory,  or 
who  has  the  hold  of  it. 

It  is  hungry  work,  this  inspection  of  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  and  it  grows  more  and  more  pleasant 
to  have  a  grand  dinner  to  look  forward  to.  There 
will  be  "style"  at  the  headquarters  of  General 
Wadsworth.  He  is  known  as  "Wadsworth  of 
Geneseo,"  and  he  is  about  the  richest  brigadier  in 
this  army.  When  he  is  at  home,  he  can  ride  up  and 
down  the  Genesee,  mile  after  mile,  upon  the  lands 
of  his  own  fair  inheritance,  and  he  is  a  gentleman  of 
cultivated  tastes,  polished  manners,  and  excellent 
mental  capacity.  Our  newly  appointed  brigadiers, 
as  a  rule,  are  going  in  for  style  with  energy.  They 
are  fine  fellows,  and  their  richly  garnished  tents  are 
full  of  hospitality.  Some  of  them  had  money  before 
they  received  their  commissions  and  some  had  not, 
but  they  all  have  good  pay  now  and  also  credit. 

These  autumnal  days,  while  the  army  is  waiting 
for  McClellan  to  move,  are  brilliant  with  fresh  uni- 
forms, stars,  sashes,  swords,  spurs,  plate,  furniture, 
dinners,  wines,  cigars,  dash,  the  pomp  and  circus 
dance  of  glorious  war! 

Is  this  Wadsworth's  headquarters  ?  Not  in  a  tent- 
marquee  ?  Only  a  little,  old,  paintless,  frame  farm- 
house ?     Very  well,  he  can  fix  it  up  inside  to  suit 


84       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

himself.  Mrs.  Wadsworth  is  with  him,  and  she  is 
said  to  be  a  graceful,  dignified,  accomplished  woman. 
She,  too,  was  born  rich,  of  a  high-caste  family,  and 
she  was  a  beauty  and  a  belle  in  her  day. 

We  are  just  in  time  to  avoid  keeping  the  General's 
dinner  waiting — that  is,  unless  it  is  true,  as  it  is  said 
of  him,  that  he  would  not  really  postpone  it  on  ac- 
count of  anybody  of  less  rank  and  importance  than 
an  attack  in  force  by  the  Confederates. 

Mrs.  Wadsworth  is  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and 
she  is  admirable.  The  General  is  here.  So  are  his 
staff,  and  several  distinguished  officers  as  guests,  and 
the  table  is  indeed  brilliant !  But  it  is  of  pine  boards, 
without  any  cloth  to  cover  it,  and  the  dinner  placed 
upon  it  consists  rigidly  of  the  regular  army  rations, 
well  cooked,  served  in  such  ware  as  the  private 
soldiers  of  Wadsworth's  brigade  are  eating  from, 
around  their  camp-fires  at  this  very  hour. 

This  is  style  ! 

Can  it  be  possible  that,  after  all,  the  General  is  a 
humorist,  and  that  this  is  a  sarcasm  upon  the  briga- 
diers, whose  income  is  or  should  be  measured  by 
their  pay  and  allowances  ?  Or  is  it  not  rather  a  wise 
and  simple-hearted  fellowship  with  the  men  under 
his  command  ? 

Here  comes  a  reminder  that  the  White  House  is 
present,  for  the  General  rises  and  proposes  the  Presi- 
dent's health,  and  you  are  to  respond.  You  suppose 
they  will  bring  a  champagne  glass. 

What !     A  tin  cup  ?     A  black  bottle  ? 

Exactly,  and  the  President's  health  is  drunk  in 
weak  whiskey  and  water  instead  of  champagne.     It 


BRONZES   AND    EARTHWORKS.  85 

is  just  as  well,  but  you  arc  thinking  more  of  what 
you  will  tell  Mr.  Lincoln  about  this  dinner  than  you 
are  of  responding  to  the  toast. 

That  is  the  reason  why  you  have  made  so  poor 
and  lame  a  response  and  feel  so  grateful  to  Mrs. 
Wadsworth  for  helping  you  out.  There  is  no  social 
reinforcement  for  a  defeated  and  demoralized  young 
man  equal  to  one  of  these  highly  cultured  women. 
It  is  true  that  they  were  never  boys  themselves,  but 
then  the  General  was  one  once,  and  you  get  such 
an  idea  of  him  now,  that  one  day,  hereafter,  when 
you  hear  that  he  has  fallen  in  battle,  you  will  feel 
much  more  deeply  about  it  than  if  the  Confederate 
bullet  had  found  some  other  mark  of  equal  army 
rank. 


T 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  RECEPTION. 

HERE  is  to  be  a  grand  public  reception  this 
evening.  Hard  work  and  no  extra  pay,  at  a 
time  when  every  member  of  this  household  feels  as 
if  there  were  too  much  on  his  hands  already,  but 
there  is  no  avoiding  a  kind  of  show  which  the  popu- 
lar will  so  imperatively  demands.  A  President  who 
would  not  put  on  his  best  clothes  now  and  then,  and 
stand  up  to  shake  hands  with  his  fellow-citizens, 
would  lose  all  influence  over  them,  even  if  he  es- 
caped impeachment  as  a  haughty  tyrant  and  a 
gloomy,  secluded  despot. 

"  What  is  it,  Edward  ?  " 

"  Madame  would  like  to  see  you  in  the  Red  Room 
before  she  goes  out.  Something  about  the  reception, 
I  think." 

"  I'll  come  right  down." 

Mrs.  Lincoln  is  waiting  in  the  Red  Room,  and  she 
is  bright,  cheerful,  almost  merry.  Her  instructions 
are  given  in  a  very  kindly  and  vivacious  manner. 
As  you  look  at  her  and  talk  with  her,  the  fact  that 
she  has  so  many  enemies  strikes  you  as  one  of  the 
moral  curiosities  of  this  venomous  time,  for  she  has 
never  in  any  way  harmed  one  of  the  men  and  wom- 
en who  are  so  recklessly  assailing  her. 

She  is  going  out  for  a  drive,  and  the  carriage  is 

86 


THE   RECEPTION.  87 

waiting  for  her,  and  so  is  a  lady  friend.  You  will 
not  be  wanted  again  until  the  evening,  but  you  are 
requested  to  be  on  duty  at  an  early  hour. 

Is  Mrs.  Lincoln  fond  of  driving  out  ? 

Not  very,  but  she  must  have  exercise  and  fresh  air, 
and  there  is  hardly  any  other  way  than  this.  She 
has  several  times  driven  out  to  visit  and  inspect  the 
forts  and  lines,  and  to  wonder,  as  did  her  husband, 
why  the  men  were  kept  at  work  upon  additional  de- 
fenses after  so  much  hard  spading  had  already  been 
done.  The  military  explanation,  however,  is  per- 
fect. It  is  true  that  the  Confederate  forces  are 
numerically  inferior,  but  they  never  tell  us  before- 
hand where  they  are  going  to  strike  us,  and  so  we 
have  no  means  of  knowing.  These  lines  are  more 
or  less  concentric.  Each  outer  line  remedies  some 
discovered  defect  or  weakness  in  the  line  next  be- 
hind it.  Each  inner  line  is  a  good  thing  for  a  de- 
feated army  to  retreat  into,  after  it  has  been  whipped 
out  of  the  line  next  outside  of  it.  The  inner  lines, 
too,  are  shorter,  and  can  be  better  defended  by 
whatever  is  left  of  our  army  after  it  is  defeated. 

How  about  the  defenses  on  the  Maryland  side  ? 

They  are  pretty  good.  They  are  somewhat  like 
those  in  Virginia,  but  there  is  not  so  much  of  them. 

The  very  best  Maryland  lines  thus  far  discovered, 
unless  it  be  the  Potomac  River  itself,  are  the  Blue 
Ridge  and  its  family  of  ridges. 

Mrs.  Lincoln  is  not  going  out  to  the  fortifications 
to-day;  only  to  the  hospitals.  She  rarely  takes  out- 
side company  with  her  upon  these  errands,  and  she 
thereby   loses    opportunities.     If  she  were  worldly 


88       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

wise  she  would  carry  newspaper  correspondents, 
from  two  to  five,  of  both  sexes,  every  time  she  went, 
and  she  would  have  them  take  shorthand  notes  of 
what  she  says  to  the  sick  soldiers  and  of  what  the 
sick  soldiers  say  to  her.  Then  she  would  bring  the 
writers  back  to  the  White  House,  and  give  them  some 
cake  and — and  coffee,  as  a  rule,  and  show  them  the 
conservatory.  By  keeping  up  such  a  process  until 
every  correspondent  that  Colonel  Baker  can  find  for 
her  has  been  dealt  with,  say  twice,  she  could  some- 
what sweeten  the  contents  of  many  journals  and  of 
the  secretary's  waste-basket.  The  directly  opposite 
course,  as  she  pursues  it,  has  not  by  any  means 
worked  well. 

It  has  proved  a  hard,  vexatious  day  in  the  busi- 
ness part  of  the  house,  but  evening  has  come  at  last, 
and  the  racks  are  set  up  in  the  vestibule.  They  are 
tall  ranges  of  square  holes,  of  about  the  right  size 
for  Shanghai  hens'  nests,  and  each  box  has  its  num- 
ber and  ticket.  They  are  for  the  proper  care  of  hats 
and  wraps,  but  many  men  and  women  will  go  right 
along,  not  leaving  anything  in  the  racks.  They  will 
see  all  there  is  to  be  seen,rand  they  will  walk  around 
and  come  out  with  all  their  wraps  upon  them.  They 
are  visitors  who  do  not  come  to  spend  the  evening, 
whether  or  not  they  become  fascinated  and  stick  to 
the  end  after  they  get  here.  You  may  be  able  to 
discern  that  the  exceptionally  noticeable  air  of 
American  freedom  which  they  also  wear  is  a  thin 
garment,  through  which  very  quickly  penetrates  a 
chilly  blast  of  awe,  if  not  of  bashfulness,  at  finding 
themselves  actually  in  the  White  House  at  Washing- 


THE   RECEPTION.  89 

ton.  They  flinch  a  little,  and  have  to  stand  still  and 
rally  at  the  moment  when  they  realize  that  they,  in 
their  mortal  bodies,  are  about  to  walk  right  up  to  the 
President,  the  greatest  man  upon  this  earth,  or  upon 
any  other  earth  that  they  can  think  of. 

There  is  not  anything  in  the  vestibule  that  they 
do  not  see,  to  begin  with,  before  going  further.  Not 
many  of  them  fail  to  ask  each  other,  or  one  of  the 
servants,  or  some  benevolent-looking  bystander,  the 
name  and  rank  of  any  men  who  are  here  in  uniform, 
or  wearing  uncommon  personal  dignity. 

There  are  not  so  many  uniforms  as  one  might 
perhaps  expect.  There  is  an  idea  afloat,  even 
among  officers  righteously  away  from  camp  on  fur- 
lough, that  their  presence  elsewhere  than  at  posts 
of  active  duty  seems  to  be  accompanied  by  a  travel- 
ing interrogation  point.  Moreover,  there  are  num- 
bers of  shoulder-strap  wearers  now  in  the  city  to 
whom  the  question  "  Why  are  you  here  ?  "  might  be 
an  unpleasant  conundrum  to  answer.  No  com- 
mander in  the  field  is  asking  to  have  them  assigned 
to  duty  with  him,  and  they  do  not  come  in  a  swarm 
to  look  into  the  face  of  the  President. 

The  human  tide  flows  on  from  the  vestibule 
through  the  open"  door  of  the  Red  Room,  but  this 
continues  to  be  almost  untenanted,  for  the  attrac- 
tions of  the  evening  are  not  here.  Just  beyond  its 
eastern  door,  and  in  the  next  room,  there  are  groups 
worth  studying. 

How  very  tall  the  President  looks,  standing  there 
in  the  foreground,  between  his  two  secretaries.  That 
is   their    customary   post   of    duty    upon    reception 


00  INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

evenings,  and  we  know  by  experience  that  it  means 
an  evening  of  hard  work. 

In  no  other  land,  or  place,  or  time  could  there  be 
gathered  such  a  miscellaneous  assortment  of  life 
and  character  as  is  now  passing  before  Father 
Abraham. 

A  volunteer  in  the  uniform  of  a  private  soldier  is 
at  this  moment  towering  in  front  of  him,  and  the 
hand  of  welcome  which  at  once  goes  out  is  met  by  a 
weaker  grasp  than  is  expected.  The  man's  face 
was  pale,  but  it  flushes. 

"  You're  just  a  peg  taller'n  I  am,  Mr.  Lincoln,  but 

1  reckon  I'd  ha'  outweighed  you  'fore  I  went  into 
hospital." 

"  Where  were  you  wounded  ?  "  asks  the  President, 
with  evident  interest. 

"  Reckon  it  was  all  over  me.  'Twas  one  of  these 
'ere  Potomac  fevers." 

"Worse  than  a  bullet,"  responds  Mr.  Lincoln; 
"but  it  must  have  taken  a  heap  of  fever  to  go  all 
over  you." 

"  Well,  it  did  !"  The  soldier  swings  cheerily  on, 
with  something  to  tell  in  camp,  and  he  has  hardly 
hindered  the  procession. 

"  I  voted  for  you,  Mr.  Lincoln,"  chirps  a  short, 
fat,  honest-faced  man,  who  pauses  in  front  of  him. 
"  I — I'm  glad  I  did.  I — I'd  do  it  again.  I — I'm  put- 
ting in  an  application  for  paymaster.     I " 

"  Want  to  be  a  paymaster,  eh  ?"  laughs  the  Pres- 
ident. "  Well,  some  people  would  rather  take  money 
in  than  pay  it  out.  It  would  about  kill  some  men  I 
know  to  make  paymasters  of  'em." 


THE   RECEPTION.  QI 

If  that  man  meant  to  say  any  more  he  has  lost  his 
chance,  for  the  President  bends  suddenly,  and  his 
long  arm  reaches  through  the  press. 

"  Come  here,  sister.  I  can't  let  you  pass  me  in 
that  way." 

Sunny  curls,  blue  eyes,  cheeks  delicately  rosy,  a 
child  of  seven  or  eight,  warmly  but  plainly  dressed, 
and  now  she  is  trembling  with  shyness  and  pleasure 
as  he  draws  her  to  him  for  a  kiss  and  to  pat  her 
golden  hair.  All  children  are  favorites  of  his,  and 
as  she  is  released  his  arm  goes  out  again  and  he  has 
made  another  capture,  but  not  without  a  vigorous 
kicking,  and  a  short,  half-frightened  squall.  Up,  up, 
goes  a  chubby  boy  of  four,  and  the  squall  changes 
to  a  boyish  laugh,  for  he  is  a  brave  little  fellow,  and 
he  knows  a  game  of  toss,  even  if  it  lifts  him  uncom- 
monly high  in  the  air. 

We  cannot  hear  just  what  the  President  says,  but 
the  children  can,  and  both  of  them  have  hurried 
away,  followed  by  parents  and  what  seems  a  file  of 
aunts  and  other  relatives,  all  one  chuckle  of  delight 
over  this  rare  incident. 

That  is  a  noble-looking  woman,  whose  hand  the 
President  is  taking.  Her  features  are  fine,  and  there 
is  a  splendid  glow  of  enthusiasm  shining  all  over  her 
face. 

"  I  have  three  sons  in  the  army,  Mr.  Lincoln." 

"  You  may  well  be  proud  of  that,  ma'am." 

Her  eyes  seem  growing  darker  and  yet  brighter, 
and  her  bosom  swells  more  proudly — if  it  is  with 
pride.  She  hesitates,  a  breathing-space,  but  her  lips 
do  not  quiver  as  she  adds,  quietly,  firmly: 


92       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

"  There   were   four,    Mr.   Lincoln,  but  my   eldest 

boy "  and   somehow  she   can  say  no  more   and 

turns  to  pass  onward. 

"  God  bless  you,  madame,"  but  she  does  not  give 
him  a  chance  to  say  any  more. 

One  gone  already  ?  And  so  very  few  men  seem 
to  have  been  killed  as  yet !  So  many  more  must  be. 
What  will  be  the  story  of  that  mother's  three  youn- 
ger boys  ?  Nobody  can  guess,  but  day  by  day  the 
President  is  vainly  urging  the  commander  of  the 
forces  along  the  Potomac  to  go  ahead  and  fight  bat- 
tles. More  men  are  dying  in  camp  than  would  prob- 
ably be  killed  in  the  field.  It  would  be  a  saving  of 
life  to  shorten  the  war,  no  matter  how  many  men 
should  die  in  shortening  it. 

Our  own  especial  post  of  duty  is  over  here  by  Mrs. 
Lincoln,  and  it  is  somewhat  less  arduous  than  is  that 
of  the  other  secretaries. 

She  stands  a  few  paces  to  the  right  of  her  hus- 
band, and  somewhat  further  back  in  the  room.  A 
large  percentage  of  the  procession  which  passes  him 
sweeps  inward  for  a  word  with  her,  but  the  greater 
part  of  it  stares  and  smiles  and  bows,  or  does  not 
bow,  and  surges  forward.  Her  hand  is  not  so  hard 
as  his,  and  could  not  endure  so  much  grasping  and 
shaking.  Even  his  iron  fingers  get  weary  some- 
times. 

No  guests  are  permitted  to  linger  in  this  room — 
for  it  is  of  moderate  capacity — without  a  special 
invitation,  unless  they  are  privileged  characters. 
Such  are  members  of  the  Cabinet  and  their  families, 
the  diplomatic  corps,    Supreme    Court  judges    and 


THE   RECEPTION.  93 

those  who  accompany  them,  Senators  and  Congress- 
men. The  line  drawn  is  both  certain  and  uncertain, 
and  some  whose  privilege  can  hardly  be  discerned 
exercise  it  liberally,  until,  in  some  cases,  it  is  need- 
ful to  exercise  tact  and  skill  with  them.  Among  the 
specially  invited,  this  evening,  are  a  number  of  dis- 
tinguished officers  of  the  army  and  navy,  of  the  kind 
whose  presence  suggests  the  inquiry,  "Where  is  he 
going  to  send  them  next  ?" 

He  has  chatted  with  some  of  them  inaudibly  to 
others,  but  in  a  way  which  has  stirred  a  buzz  of  cu- 
riosity. Have  they  orders  which  no  one  else  knows 
anything  about  ?     They  seem  happy  ! 

A  splendid  group  of  women  has  gathered  around 
and  near  Mrs.  Lincoln.  Scattered  around  the  room, 
and  in  the  corners  and  by  the  windows,  are  other 
groups  as  notable.  There  is  no  excessive  brilliancy 
of  dress.  There  is  even  a  relieving  alternative  of 
marked  plainness.  There  is,  however,  an  assembly 
of  dignity,  intelligence,  beauty,  noble  womanhood, 
which  does  honor  to  the  country  which  can  fill  its 
republican  Court  with  such  representatives.  They 
are  the  wives  and  sisters  and  daughters  of  patriots, 
statesmen,  jurists,  legislators,  financiers,  heroes,  and 
no  Court  in  Europe  can  assemble  their  superiors. 

It  is  a  brilliant  scene,  this  reception-room  of  the 
President  and  his  wife.  It  is  difficult  to  collect  one's 
memories  and  thoughts,  and  to  consider  the  fact 
that  it  is  but  a  short  drive  from  the  door  of  these 
headquarters  of  the  Commander  -  in  -  Chief  to  the 
trenches  and  camps,  and  to  the  fields  of  the  blood- 
iest battles  of  this  Civil  War  :  battles  fought  and  to 


94       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

be  fought  to  prevent  the  Confederate  flag  from 
floating  over  the  building  in  which  we  are  spending 
the  evening. 

The  presence  of  the  war  cannot  be  forgotten  or 
put  aside,  however.  The  crowds  who  come  and  go, 
and  even  these  smiling  groups  of  distinguished  la- 
dies and  gentlemen  are  busy  from  time  to  time  with 
the  reported  movements  of  the  forces  which  are 
said  to  threaten  the  National  Capital.  Nobody  really 
believes  it  to  be  in  danger,  and  conversation  turns 
rather  to  the  current  rumors  concerning  the  army 
movements  preparing  for  the  capture  of  the  corre- 
sponding fortress  and  headquarters  on  the  James 
River.  President  Davis  may  be  holding  a  recep- 
tion in  Richmond  this  evening,  and  one  of  these 
posts,  so  near  each  other  and  yet  so  far,  must  change 
its  flag  and  garrison  before  this  war  can  be  ended. 

The  members  of  the  diplomatic  corps  never  make 
their  appearance  early.  They  never  arrive  together, 
but  singly,  and  the  gentlemen  only  will  present 
themselves  at  so  very  public  and  popular  a  recep- 
tion as  this.  There  is,  moreover,  a  subtle  under- 
standing that  the  relations  between  the  Lincoln 
Administration  and  European  diplomacy  are  out  of 
joint;  and  the  idea  expresses  itself  socially,  for  for- 
eign Ministers  of  all  the  grades  are  not  merely  hu- 
man beings,  they  are  the  finger-tips  rather  than  the 
embodiments  of  Old  World  politics  and  policies. 

Here  comes  England,  and  if  Lord  Lyons  is  out 
of  humor  with  anything,  nobody  will  guess  it  from 
his  manner.  No  American  has  shaken  hands  more 
heartily  than  he  with  the  President,  in  spite  of  the 


THE   RECEPTION.  95 

fact  that  our  position  with  reference  to  Great  Britain 
is  to  the  last  degree  strained  and  dangerous. 

"  The  British  Neutral  Service  "  is  already  putting 
to  sea  under  the  Confederate  flag.  The  blockade- 
runners  are  as  busy  as  bees  and  as  daring  as  Vi- 
kings. The  question  of  British  recognition  of  the 
Confederacy  still  mutters  in  the  air  like  distant 
thunder.  General  Chester  A.  Arthur  is  studying 
the  fortifications  of  New  York  and  the  military  ca- 
pacities of  its  railroads,  and  the  features  of  the  Cana- 
dian frontier,  preparatory  to  his  reports  upon  those 
subjects.  He  and  Governor  Morgan  have  calculated 
with  care,  and  have  informed  the  President  how 
many  regiments  of  New  York  and  other  State 
militia  they  can  throw  across  the  border  in  twenty- 
four  hours,  if  need  should  be;  but  England,  present 
here  this  evening,  is  as  pleasant  and  conciliatory  as 
if  the  two  nations  were  really  at  peace  with  each 
other,  instead  of  in  a  thinly  veiled  state  of  semi-hos- 
tility, with  the  White  House  as  neutral  ground. 

France  is  not  here,  and  it  is  understood  that  he 
will  not  come  to-night;  but  if  his  absence  has  any 
ominous  diplomatic  meaning  the  hint  is  utterly  lost 
upon  Mr.  Lincoln.  Mr.  Seward,  who  is  chatting  so 
cheerfully  at  your  elbow,  may  make  something  out 
of  it.  He  can  read  such  telegrams  as  if  they  were 
printed,  but  he  never  permits  himself  to  be  ruffled 
by  them.  This  is  not  a  good  workroom  for  intrigue, 
and  the  razor-edges  of  school-diplomacy  are  of  lit- 
tle value  in  dealing  with  a  dictator  whose  first  dec- 
laration of  his  foreign  policy  so  strongly  resembled 
axe- work. 


g6       INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

Italy  has  now  entered  the  room,  and  he  is  tall  and 
dark,  but  not  in  the  least  romantic.  Here  is  Ger- 
many, fat,  hearty,  sociable,  and  understood  to  be  in 
personal  sympathy  with  the  popular  feeling  of  his 
bond-buying,  emigrating  countrymen,  and  with,  if 
we  are  rightly  informed,  our  friend,  Count  Bis- 
marck. The  short,  dark,  melancholy  but  suave 
and  smiling  man,  with  such  fine  teeth,  is  Mexico, 
and  his  greeting  by  the  President  may  have  some 
relation  to  the  absence  of  France.  At  all  events, 
the  unscrupulous  adventurer  who  now  poses  as  the 
French  Emperor  has  no  admirers  among  the  garri- 
son of  the  White  House.  Russia,  yonder,  with  Mr. 
Seward  at  this  moment,  is  a  tremendous  counter- 
poise to  both  France  and  England.  He  seems  to  put 
one  in  mind  of  the  Crimea  and  Sebastopol  and  their 
unsettled  account,  which  does  but  wait  for  a  day  of 
settlement.  Spain,  Brazil,  Holland — all  the  list  ar- 
rive, in  turn  and  out  of  turn,  coming  in  with  the  long 
American  procession  as  if  they  were  parts  of  it. 

It  is  hard  work  for  the  President,  but  he  receives 
and  dismisses  these  varied  hundreds  of  people  with 
wonderful  dexterity,  the  trained  result  of  his  natural 
tact  and  wit  and  of  his  long  practice.  It  is  one  of 
the  unavoidable  duties  of  his  position,  from  which 
he  can  no  more  escape  than  could  his  predecessors. 
It  is  a  pity  that  the  house  has  no  picture  gallery, 
with  portraits  of  the  Presidents  and  the  ladies  who 
have  stood  where  Mr.  Lincoln  and  his  wife  are  stand- 
ing, and  whose  hands  have  been  shaken  to  lameness 
in  this  very  room. 

The  hour  has  come,  at  last,  for  the  President  to 


THE    RECEPTION.  97 

make  a  promenade  into  and  through  the  East  Room. 
It  is  the  breaking  up  of  the  reception,  and  it  is  per- 
formed without  any  prescribed  order  or  formality. 
There  are  no  rules  of  precedence,  and  this  is  dan- 
gerous coasting  ground  for  what  is  called  etiquette. 
The  crowd  in  the  East  Room  is  dense.  It  is  enjoy- 
ing itself,  and  it  will  hardly  get  out  of  the  way  to  let 
the  President's  official  procession  perform  its  walk 
around,  although  the  Marine  Band  is  manifestly 
changing  its  musical  storm  -  mixture  into  the  first 
notes  of"  Hail  Columbia."  There  it  comes,  in  full 
force  and  blast,  and  it  is  the  signal  for  everybody  to 
go  home. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

A   VARIETY   OF   UNIFORMS. 

TTHE  morning  after  a  public  reception  is  no  more 
A  a  time  to  be  late  in  rising,  or  in  getting  at 
work,  than  is  any  other  morning.  No  matter  if,  after 
the  reception,  there  was  a  private  party-crush  some- 
where else,  and  the  process  of  being  entertained  and 
of  enjoying  one's  self  continued  till  the  small  hours. 
The  President  will  be  at  his  desk  by  the  window 
as  early  as  usual. 

It  is  true  that  there  do  not  seem  to  be  any  set 
hours  for  either  beginning  or  ending  work  in  the 
national  business  office.  Mr.  Lincoln  himself  keeps 
no  hours,  and  he  never  once  has  asked  what  his  as- 
sistants here  are  doing  with  their  time.  They  are 
supposed  to  know  their  duties,  and  are  expected  to 
do  them  without  throwing  any  burden  of  supervision 
upon  him.  Nevertheless,  he  is  an  unconscious 
driver,  and  he  is  unintentionally  though  unrelent- 
ingly exacting.  No  person  employed  in  connection 
with  Mr.  Lincoln's  work  would  willingly  be  out  of 
call  if  he  were  wanted  ;  but  if  the  President  should 
send  for  a  man  and  couldn't  find  him,  he  would  send 
at  once  for  another.  He  manages  his  generals  and 
sea-captains  somewhat  upon  the  same  principle,  ex- 
cepting that  he  now  and  then  drops  one  of  them, 


A   VARIETY   OF   UNIFORMS.  99 

and  does  not  afterward  make  any  effort  to  find  him 
— not  so  much  as  to  ring  a  bell  for  him. 

What  is  that  thing  lying  on  the  table? 

It  should  speak  for  itself.  It  is  an  entirely  new 
pattern  of  cavalry-saddle,  and  the  inventor  wishes 
the  President  to  recommend  it  to  General  Stoneman 
and  General  Pleasanton  and  the  rest  as  the  best 
saddle  for  cavalry  that  was  ever  devised.  It  has 
new  features  all  over  it  and  in  it  and  under  it,  and 
when  Mr.  Lincoln  examined  it  he  remembered  a 
story  that  we  forget,  but  it  was  something  about 
saddles  and  cavalry,  and  the  ancient  practice  of  rid- 
ing barebacked.  This  specimen  has  been  gotten 
up  tremendously,  but  it  has  ornamented  the  Presi- 
dent's room  long  enough,  and  so  they  have  brought 
it  over  here. 

No,  Mr.  Senator,  if  you  wish  to  try  it,  you'll  have 
to  take  it  downstairs.  No  horses  are  permitted  up 
here. 

It  is  not  really  the  new  saddle  which  has  attracted 
such  a  crowd  into  the  northeast  room.  It  is  a  rush 
day,  and  it  looks  almost  as  if  there  was  to  be  another 
reception.  We  are  getting  the  overflow  from  the 
halls.  There  is  almost  every  kind  of  man  here  al- 
ready, except  Indian  chiefs  and  Governors  of  States. 
They  never  come.  There  were  some  great  red  men 
on  a  visit  to  their  Great  Father  at  Washington  a  few 
days  ago,  but  the  President  went  down  to  the  East 
Room,  and  the  council  was  held  there.  They  did 
not  smoke  any  pipes  of  peace  nor  bury  any  toma- 
hawk, and  it  is  believed  that  the  treaty  they  have 
signed  will  last  until  they  are  again  set  loose  upon 


100     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

the  plains,  but  no  longer.  They  came  in  their  paint 
and  feathers,  and  they  were  an  imposing-looking 
group  of  men.  One  very  good  and  friendly  Indian 
wore,  as  fringes  for  his  leggings  of  honor  and  glory, 
the  scalp-tufts  of  ninety-three  human  beings  who 
had  fallen  by  his  hand.  Less  than  half  of  those  tufts 
were  black  and  coarse,  and  many  of  the  others  were 
long,  soft,  and  of  all  shades,  and  curls  from  silver- 
silken  to  dark  chestnut  and  even  jet. 

As  for  the  absence  of  State  Governors,  there  is  a 
dim  and  floating  tradition  that  no  such  officer  should 
leave  his  State  limits  during  his  term  of  office,  and 
that  if  he  were  to  visit  Washington  he  would  make 
his  trip  a  subject  of  jealous  inquiry  by  any  and  all 
other  Governors  of  States. 

The  uncommonly  dignified  gentleman  standing  by 
the  mantel  in  such  a  picturesque  attitude  is  an  ex- 
Governor,  and  he  has  been  watching  you  at  your 
work,  but  he  has  not  been  half  so  interested,  nor  is 
he  nearly  so  interesting,  as  is  this  grizzled,  brawny, 
tobacco-chewing,  farmer-like  old  man  from  some- 
where away  up  North,  who  has  captured  Andrew 
Jackson's  chair,  and  has  pulled  it  up  to  the  table- 
corner.  He  has  watched  the  process  of  opening  let- 
ters, and  he  has  grinned  as  if  he  understood  it.  So 
has  the  ex-Governor,  for  he  is  accustomed  to  the  re- 
ception and  disposal  of  much  correspondence  ;  but 
this  other  man  is  paying  more  and  more  attention  to 
the  crowd  out  in  the  hall. 

His  curiosity  has  burst  into  questions  at  last. 

"  I  say,  mister,  jest  a  minute.  Couldn't  you  tell  a 
feller  something  about  these  chaps  ?     Who  they  be, 


A  VARIETY   OF  UNIFORMS.  101 

and  what  they're  here  fur  ?  No,  not  the  Guvnor.  I 
know  him.  Real  sound,  likely  kind  of  man  he  is,  too. 
Not  the  Senator,  nuther.  Everybody  knows  him, 
and  he's  a  pretty  level-headed  old  stick.  But  who  in 
thunder  is  that  there  fat,  red  feller  ?  Looks  as  though 
he'd  been  melted  and  poured  into  his  clothes  so 
they'd  fit  him  'thout  any  wrinkle.  Red  as  a  lobster ! 
Is  he  a  Britisher  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  he  is  a  Danish  officer.  He  has  come  to 
serve  in  our  army,  if  he  can  get  a  commission." 

"  They'll  put  him  to  work  somewhar,  I  reckon. 
Hope  he  won't  git  shot.  Bleedin'  wouldn't  show  on 
them  clothes,  though.  Who's  that  there  little  gew- 
gaw-and-glitter  feller  ?" 

"  That's  a  German  officer.  He  has  already  served 
in  Europe  with  distinction.  He  wants  a  commission, 
too.     He's  a  baron  !" 

"  He's  a  bar'n  ?  Well,  now  !  I  never  seed  a  bar'n 
before.  Looks  kind  o'  gritty,  too.  Do  you  git  many 
on 'em?" 

"  Yes,  one  of  our  first  volunteer  regiments  was  said 
to  be  about  half  made  up  of  barons  and  counts  and 
that  sort  of  men,  that  had  got  tired  of  living  in 
Europe — or  else,  may  be,  Europe  had  got  tired  of 
them." 

"  You  don't  say !  Is  there  any  yurl  out  there  ?  I 
never  seed  a  nurl  nor  a  dook.  Do  you  have  any 
yurls  ?" 

"  Well,  no,  we  haven't  enlisted  an  earl  yet,  that  I 
know  of.  They're  all  English,  you  know,  and  they're 
not  on  our  side.  McClellan  has  a  duke,  and  a  prince, 
and  a  count  on  his  staff." 


102     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

"  Not  any  kings?  No?  I'd  like  to  see  the  kind 
they  have  in  England.     Who  is  that  little  rooster?" 

There  is  a  deal  of  good  breeding  in  this  world,  for 
not  a  soul  present  smiled  in  such  a  way  as  to  hurt  the 
sensibilities  of  the  distinguished  German  officer  who 
is  indicated. 

"  Awful  clipped  coat-tails." 

And  they  are  stiff  as  well  as  short,  and  he  has 
nervously  buttoned  his  coat  tightly  to  the  waist, 
with  his  coat-tails  up,  and  now  they  cannot  get  down, 
and  he  goes  in  to  see  the  President  in  the  likeness 
of  a  gamecock  trimmed  for  combat. 

"  No  spurs  on,  but  I  guess  he's  game.  Now,  mis- 
ter, who's  that  critter  ?  Black  mournin'  veil  down 
over  her  face.  I'd  say  !  If  she  isn't  a-sobbin' !  Wants 
Old  Abe  to  give  her  somethin'." 

"  That's  it.  Don't  you  see  ?  His  messenger  has 
just  come  out.     Hear  him." 

"  The  President  is  too  busy  to  see  you,  madame, 
but  there  it  is.  He  has  signed  it,  and  you  can  take 
it  to  the  War  Office  yourself.  They  know  that  it  is 
signed." 

So  says  Louis  to  the  lady,  as  she  gripes  a  paper 
hard  in  a  withered  thin  white  hand. 

"  Thank  God  !  Thank  Lincoln  !  Pardoned  !  Oh, 
my  boy !  my  boy  !"  and  a  veiled  storm  of  sobs  totters 
out  to  the  stairway  on  an  errand  to  the  War  Depart- 
ment, the  substance  of  which  has  preceded  her. 

The  President  very  much  dislikes  to  meet  people, 
women  especially,  for  whom  he  has  done  any  favor, 
like  saving  a  life  for  them,  or  that  sort  of  thing.  He 
prefers  to  hear  no  more  about  it  after  it  is  done. 


A   VARIETY    OK    UNIFORMS.  I03 

"  Mister,  it's  all  right,  isn't  it?  She's  got  the  par- 
don ?  I'd  ha'  forgive  him,  if  I'd  ha'  been  Linken.  I 
don't  keer  so  much  what  he  cut  up,  but  then  I  reckon 
she  doesn't  feel  quite  so  bad  as  she  did.  Who's  that 
there  tall  feller  that  doesn't  have  to  wait?  And  the 
short  feller  with  him,  that's  mostly  beard  and  specta- 
cles ?  Three  of  'em,  and  more  beard,  who  are  they, 
pushin'  straight  in  ?" 

"  One  of  them  is  War,  and  one  of  them  is  Honesty, 
and  one  of  them  is  the  Ocean." 

"  Was  that  there  Stanton  ?  Well,  now,  if  he  wasn't 
mad  about  somethin'  he  looked  it.  I'd  ought  to  ha' 
known  old  Welles  from  his  picture,  but  you  didn't 
call  the  other  feller." 

"  Yes,  I  did.  His  best  name  is  Honesty,  but  his 
other  name  is  Meigs.  He  buys  things  for  the  army. 
He  is  quartermaster-general,  and  when  he  gets  clean 
through  there  won't  be  a  stain  on  him,  nor  the  smell 
of  fire  on  his  garments.  Could  you  spend  four  or  five 
thousands  of  millions  of  dollars  and  not  steal  some 
of  it?" 

"  I  guess  I  could.  I  wouldn't  steal  a  cent,  but 
some  of  it  might  stick,  somewhere,  or  sift  out  into 
the  backyard,  somehow,  while  there  was  such  an 
awful  heap  bein'  carted." 

"  There  won't  any  stick  to  old  Honesty,  nor  sift 
into  his  backyard.  He  and  a  few  men  like  him  are 
the  main  reasons  why  we're  going  to  win  this 
fight." 

"  Win  it?     Of  course  we're  going  to  win  it." 

He  is  intensely  patriotic,  and  he  is  having  a  very 
interested    audience,    including   the    Governor,  but 


104    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

that  is  the  bell  from  Mr.  Nicolay's  room,  and  we 
must  go  over.     Come. 

It  is  not  so  crowded  as  the  northeast  room,  and 
there  is  ordinarily  an  air  of  intense  suppression  here, 
for  this  is  really  an  important  part  of  the  President's 
office  adjoining.  There  is  Mr.  Nicolay,  by  the  table, 
getting  ready  some  paper  or  other  for  the  President 
to  sign.  People  who  do  not  like  him — because  they 
cannot  use  him,  perhaps — say  he  is  sour  and  crusty, 
and  it  is  a  grand  good  thing,  then,  that  he  is.  If 
you  will  sit  in  that  chair  a  month  or  so,  you  will 
see  what  has  become  of  any  easy  good-nature  you 
sat  down  with.  Hot-tempered  fellows  like  you  and 
me  have  no  business  in  that  chair.  It  takes  a  steady 
fellow  like  Nicolay,  or  somebody  as  quick-witted  as 
John  Hay.  You  have  sat  there  often,  when  they 
were  gone,  but  only  for  a  day  or  half  a  day  at  a 
time,  and  did  not  like  it.  The  President  showed  his 
good  judgment  of  men  when  he  put  Mr.  Nicolay  just 
where  he  is,  with  a  kind  and  amount  of  authority 
which  it  is  not  easy  to  describe.  The  ill-natured 
people  call  us  all  boys,  and  John  Hay  is  nominally 
only  twenty-four,  and  Mr.  Nicolay  is  only  a  few 
summers  farther  on,  if  you  count  by  the  almanac; 
but  is  not  this  a  time  when  a  day  is  as  a  year  often, 
and  men  grow  gray  internally?  Mr.  Lincoln  must 
have  lived  at  least  a  century  since  they  telegraphed 
to  him  that  he  had  been  nominated  for  President  by 
the  Chicago  Convention. 

It  seemed  quiet  here,  as  we  passed  through  the 
door,  but  we  did  but  interrupt  a  very  striking  lecture 
that  is  at  once  resumed  as  the  lecturer  walks  up  and 


A  VARIETY   OF   UNIFORMS.  105 

down  the  room.  There  is  a  wide  mirror  over  the 
mantel,  and  he  pauses  before  it  to  survey  himself  all 
over  while  the  lecture  goes  on,  for  the  subject  of  it 
is  dress — the  dress  now  worn  by  the  lecturer — black 
broadcloth,  new,  swallow-tailed,  beautiful !  He  is 
tall  and  brawny  and  bearded,  and  his  voice  is 
hoarsely  deep.  He  is  a  Union  political  brigadier- 
general  from  the  far  Southwest.  He  will  never 
command  a  brigade  in  the  field,  for  he  is  a  mistake 
in  a  military  point  of  view;  but  he  has  all  his  life 
been  an  orator,  and  he  has  drawn  his  first  pay,  and 
he  has  purchased  the  first  good  clothes  he  ever  wore, 
and  no  Sioux  chief  at  a  big  talk  was  ever  prouder  of 
his  paint  and  feathers. 

"Yes,  sir;  this  is  the  only  dress  of  a  gentleman; 
he  should  never  wear  anything  else.     I  never  do." 

Alas !  that  he  should  be  interrupted  by  the  piti- 
less Nicolay;  but  the  President  will  see  him  for  a 
moment,  and  he  goes  in.  Mr.  Hay  can  let  out  now 
the  laugh  he  has  been  keeping  in,  and  the  swallow- 
tailed  brigadier  can  explain  to  Mr.  Lincoln  the  con- 
dition of  the  people  and  the  Union  cause  in  his  own 
part  of  the  country.  Again  !  Alas  for  him,  that  he 
should  first  repeat  to  the  President  his  lecture  of  ad- 
miration of  his  new,  beautiful  swallow-tails,  for 
Abraham  Lincoln  takes  less  interest  in  the  tailoring 
business  than  do  some  other  men.  After  the  lecture 
is  over  there  is  less  peril  that  the  lives  and  fortunes 
of  a  brigade  of  helpless  volunteers  will  be  entrusted 
to  the  skill  and  patriotism  of  the  lecturer. 

The   endless   reception  held  in  this  part  of  the 


106     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

house  being  ended  at  last,  and  the  toilers  of  the 
President's  office  having-  adjourned  for  dinner,  we 
can  walk  out  to  the  westward,  and  we  might  as  well 
get  out  through  the  conservatory.  That  is,  you  can 
do  so  if  you  have  special  permission  from  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln, or  from  the  gardener,  and  that  may  or  may 
not  be  easy  to  obtain.  Just  now  we  want  some  bou- 
quets prepared  for  ladies  who  are  to  come  here  for 
a  while,  this  morning,  before  they  go  to  another 
affair  which  will  keep  them  later.  The  flowers  are 
doing  well,  are  they  not?  Rare  exotics,  some  of 
them,  and  the  bouquets  will  be  fine.  The  gardener 
has  orders  to  give  us  anything  we  want  in  reason, 
and  we  will  take  liberally;  but  even  while  we  are 
doing  so  the  warm,  fragrant,  summer-like  air  of  the 
conservatory  suggests  an  idea  that  is  just  beginning 
to  germinate  in  and  about  this  White  House.  This 
very  "  greenhouse,"  the  kitchens  and  laundry  in 
yonder,  the  vegetable  garden,  not  now  in  active 
operation,  the  bedrooms  upstairs,  this  entire  side  of 
the  house — is  it  not  all  absurdly  out  of  place  in  the 
same  building  with  the  most  important  business 
office  in  the  nation?  Of  course  it  is,  but  the  moment 
you  broach  the  idea  of  separating  the  President's 
dwelling  from  his  workshop  you  will  find  how  in- 
tense a  jealousy  your  proposition  must  encounter. 
There  is  apparently  a  dread  that  if  a  private  residence 
for  the  President  were  to  be  built,  it  would  be  made  to 
cost  too  much,  and  would  most  likely  become  a  pal- 
ace, whatever  that  may  mean  to  American  imagina- 
tions. There  is  a  greater  fear  that  if  he  had  a  home 
of  his  own  to  take  refuge  in  he  would  be  less  acces- 


A   VARIETY    OF    UNIFORMS.  107 

sible,  and  could  escape  more  completely  from  Con- 
gressional buttonholers.  He  might  entirely  get  away! 

Still,  the  mere  business  necessities  which  suggest 
and  enforce  the  absurdity  of  having  this  incongruous 
greenhouse  in  the  headquarters  of  the  Commander- 
in-Chief  will  grow  with  the  growth  of  the  National 
Executive  transactions.  Much  business  which  be- 
longs here  must  now  be  attended  to  at  the  several 
Departments.  We  are  not  prophets,  and  you  cannot 
now  dream  of  the  day  when  you  will  come  to  call 
upon  President  Andrew  Johnson,  but  he  will  call 
you  into  the  room  next  westward  of  the  office  Mr. 
Lincoln  now  occupies.  That  will  then  be  an  office 
for  private  secretaries.  A  few  years  later,  President 
Grant  will  take  you  with  him  for  a  quiet  chat  in  the 
library,  one  door  further  westward.  You  will  spend 
an  evening  with  President  Hayes  in  the  Red  Room. 
Presidents  Garfield  and  Arthur  will  make  no  impor- 
tant changes,  but  when  at  last  you  come  to  visit 
President  Cleveland,  you  will  find  the  whole  floor 
east  of  the  western  folding  doors  turned  into  busi- 
ness offices,  and  that  Mr.  Lincoln's  old  bedroom, 
next  to  the  library,  is  where  President  Cleveland 
expects  you  to  talk  with  him. 

One  or  two  more  administrations,  following  the 
star  of  empire  at  the  same  rate  of  progression,  will 
find  a  President  looking  out  of  the  windows  of  the 
western  wing,  up  there,  with  a  long  range  of  busi- 
ness rooms  left  behind  him  eastward.  Then,  how- 
ever, it  is  to  be  hoped  that  his  kitchen  and  his  bed- 
room will  be  elsewhere,  whatever  may  have  become 
of  this  conservatory, 


108     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

What  about  the  Soldiers'  Home  ?  No,  that  is  only 
a  kind  of  hot-weather  retiring  place,  and  will  not 
answer  for  the  palace  of  the  Presidents. 

Splendid  flowers  !  Come,  the  gardener  will  have 
our  bouquets  ready  at  the  right  time.  Come  out  this 
way,  where  even  the  gates  and  fences  have  not  been 
changed  since  the  War  of  1812. 

There  are  not  any  other  old  red  brick  buildings  in 
the  country  as  large  as  are  the  War  Department  and 
Navy  Department  buildings  that  present  fewer  ex- 
ternal indications  of  the  uses  they  are  put  to.  Ex- 
cepting for  these  uniforms  which  are  coming  and 
going  so  busily,  and  for  the  other  uniforms  and  the 
soldierly  looking  men  behind  the  desks  of  the  offices, 
even  their  interiors  would  not  tell  much  more. 

We  can  go  in,  although  it  is  after  the  hours  for 
public  admission.  It  is  not  because  our  latch-key 
fits  any  of  these  doors  otherwise  than  theoretically, 
but  because  the  doorkeeper  is  bound  to  suppose  that 
it  is  upon  business  for  the  President.  He  has  been 
here  a  long  time,  in  charge  of  the  door  at  which  he 
is  stationed,  but  even  if  he  were  a  new  hand  and 
comparatively  unacquainted  with  the  latch-keys  of 
the  White  House,  he  would  at  this  moment  be,  as 
he  is,  in  the  attitude  of  holding  his  door  open  wide. 
We  will  ourselves  step  aside  and  let  this  party  of 
gentlemen  go  by.  We  saw  three  of  them,  a  little 
while  ago,  entering  the  door  of  the  other  office  of 
the  President,  over  yonder.  These  dingy  old  brick 
quadrangles  are  really  parts  of  the  Executive  business 
arrangements,  and  belong  to  the  White  House  more 
perfectly  now  than  they  have  heretofore  since  Jack- 


A   VARIETY   OF    UNIFORMS.  IO9 

son's  time.  Two  and  two,  Lincoln  and  Stanton 
walking  ahead,  Meigs  and  Welles  following  them, 
and  there,  on  the  steps  of  the  Navy  Department,  for 
which  they  are  aiming,  is  a  strongly  built,  bright- 
eyed,  good-looking  man  in  a  naval  uniform.  That 
is  Captain  Fox,  a  power  in  naval  matters,  the  same 
officer  who  so  eagerly  undertook  to  relieve  Fort 
Sumter,  and  was  foiled  by  bad  weather  and  slow 
subordinates.  There  is  something  up  which  requires 
a  more  select  and  secret  council  than  can  well  be 
had  to-day  at  the  other  office — most  likely  some- 
thing about  Burnside  and  the  North  Carolina  coast. 
They  all  go  into  the  Navy  building  together,  and 
what  they  say  and  do  after  they  get  there  we  shall 
not  know,  for  your  errand  and  mine  is  ended,  and 
we  have  had  another  given  that  carries  us  back  to 
the  White  House. 

Does  the  President  do  this  sort  of  thing  frequently  ? 

Of  course  he  does,  going  from  one  part  of  the 
Executive  buildings  to  another,  as  he  pleases;  and 
by  leaving  the  White  House  part  of  them  at  this 
hour  he  has  escaped  an  ominous  visit  from  a  full 
corporal's  guard  of  the  Committee  on  the  Conduct 
of  the  War.  They  arrive,  but  they  do  not  go  be- 
yond the  front  door,  where  they  are  very  politely 
and  correctly  informed  by  Old  Edward  that:  "  He's 
gone  out,  gentlemen.  He  didn't  say  where  he  was 
going,  sir.  Have  you  been  to  Mr.  Seward's  to  see 
if  he's  there,  sir  ?  If  he's  not  at  Mr.  Seward's,  it's 
most  likely  he  went  to  some  of  the  other  places. 
He'll  not  be  gone  long,  or  he  may — I  can't  say. 
I'll  tell  him;  yes,  sir,  I'll  tell  him," 


IIO     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

And  the  estimable  and  influential  and  undeniably 
patriotic  delegation  departs,  deeply  engaged  in  a 
discussion  of  something  relating  to  the  Atlantic 
coast  and  the  fleets,  but  they  have  not  seen  the  smile 
on  the  face  of  Captain  Fox  when  he  saw  the  Presi- 
dent coming,  nor  the  other  smile  on  the  face  of  Old 
Edward,  when  he  saw  them  going.  There  is  nothing 
foxy  about  Mr.  Lincoln.  He  did  not  know  that  a 
committee  was  coming,  and  that  it  had  so  nearly 
reached  the  White  House,  and  he  was  not  at  all  the 
man  to  run  away  from  the  Committee  on  the  Con- 
duct of  the  War. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE   TWO   CHIEFTAINS. 

"  V^ES,  sir,  the  hour  may  be  at  hand  when  the 

*  President's  friends  must  stand  by  him  in  more 
ways  than  one.  When  that  hour  comes,  you  and  I 
must  be  ready." 

He  was  intensely  in  earnest,  and  his  bright,  hand- 
some, young  face  is  flushed  with  indignation,  as  well 
"as  stern  with  courageous  purpose,  and  you  never  at 
any  other  time  liked  him  so  well. 

"  Nonsense,  my  dear  fellow.  What  you  mean  is 
that  we  may  have  to  get  some  rifles,  and  be  ready 
to  prevent  the  forcible  occupation  of  the  White 
House  by  somebody.  We  shall  not  need  any  guns. 
You  are  hinting  at  some  like  a  coup  d'etat,  a  sudden 
stroke;  something  in  the  nature  of  a  forward  move- 
ment. There  isn't  a  shadow  of  a  danger  of  anything 
of  the  sort." 

"  If  you  had  been  present!  If  you  had  seen  and 
heard  what  I  have,  you  would  feel  differently." 

"We  can  get  as  mad  about  it  as  we  please,  but 
the  general  is  not  at  all  that  kind  of  man.  He  does 
not  dream  of  any  such  thing,  nor  do  the  men  around 
him.  It  couldn't  be  done,  if  they  should  all  go 
crazy,  unless  they  could  control  the  army,  and  they 
couldn't  control  a  corporal's  guard  !  " 

The  talk  is  a  trifle  wild,  considering  the  place  and 
in 


112     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

the  time,  but  it  has  its  meaning,  and  it  illustrates  the 
intensities  of  the  situation.  There  is  rapidly  in- 
creasing, and  spreading  from  Washington  over  the 
country,  a  clear,  but  as  yet  cautiously  undefined,  un- 
formulated understanding  that  there  is  a  struggle 
going  on  between  the  Constitutional  supremacy  of 
the  civil  authority,  represented  by  the  President, 
and  the  war-created  strength  of  the  military  com- 
mander. There  have  been  many  startling  surprises, 
and  who  knows  but  what  another,  yet  more  surpris- 
ing, is  in  course  of  preparation  for  the  country  ?  Who 
knows  how  large  a  part  of  the  population  is  prepar- 
ing, unconsciously,  for  precisely  such  a  surprise  as 
has  been  indicated,  and  would  welcome  it  as  offering 
a  solution  of  the  problem  before  them  ? 

Mr.  Lincoln  and  General  McClellan  have  been 
differently  educated.  They  hold  and  have  held  ad- 
verse political  opinions.  They  are  at  variance,  now, 
as  to  questions  with  which,  strictly  construing  his 
position,  a  military  chief  has  nothing  to  do  in  this 
country.  Fremont  got  into  hot  water  by  going  too 
fast  and  too  far  in  one  direction,  and  now  McClellan, 
taking  a  path  opposite  to  that  of  Fremont,  is  captur- 
ing the  leadership  of  a  gathering  political  party. 

This  party  is  making  up  of  the  shreds  and  tatters 
of  old  parties,  but  it  will  inevitably  be  a  tremendous 
power. 

It  will  not  do  to  call  it  a  Cave  of  Adullam  unless 
there  is  to  be  an  indefinite  expansion  of  the  supposed 
capacity  of  that  cavern.  It  might  even  be  useful  to 
so  enlarge  it  that  it  will  take  in  the  border  States,  if 
not  the  entire  South. 


THE    TWO   CHIEFTAINS.  II 3 

All  the  threads  and  wires  of  information  which 
centre  in  this  central  den  of  the  national  spider-web 
are  tremulous  with  suggestions  of  intrigue,  and  with 
warnings  of  oppositions,  and  with  the  increasingly 
bitter  criticisms  of  friends  and  foes  alike.  It  almost 
seems  as  if  the  President  has  no  friends,  so  sharply 
do  his  own  find  fault  with  him;  and,  while  they  also 
denounce  McClellan  and  his  asserted  pro-slavery 
leanings  and  his  ambitions,  they  offer  no  apparent 
counterpoise  to  the  unstinted  praises  heaped  upon 
the  young  general  by  his  supporters  of  all  sorts.  It 
will  be  no  wonder  at  all  if  he  shall  fail  to  rightly  in- 
terpret the  signs  of  this  time,  or  if  he  makes  the  mis- 
take of  supposing  himself  stronger  than  the  sad-fac- 
ed, silent  man,  who  is  at  this  hour  at  work  in  the 
room  across  the  hall. 

Your  mail  is  at  last  all  read,  and  is  either  trans- 
mitted or  destroyed.  Dinner  was  returned  from  two 
hours  ago,  and  the  gas  is  lighted,  but  it  does  not 
seem  to  burn  well.  Jt  flickers  and  flares,  and  there 
is  something  blue  in  it.  It  must  be  a  shade  or  two 
worse  over  in  the  President's  room. 

One  cannot  help  thinking  of  him  and  feeling  for 
him,  for  the  Northern  press,  loyal  and  otherwise,  has 
been  abusively  sarcastic  to-day.  It  is  a  good  thing 
that  he  does  not  read  any  of  these  stinging  leaders 
in  these  sheets  which  litter  the  floor.  There  lies  one 
that  was  torn  lengthwise  by  the  reader,  as  a  faint 
expression  of  his  feelings,  and  it  is  easier  to  under- 
stand why  the  old-time  people  used,  now  and  then, 
to  rend  their  garments. 

This  bitterly  caustic   essay  which  we  have  been 


114    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

reading,  upon  the  art  of  war,  as  it  is  understood  by 
the  writer,  who  evidently  thinks  the  road  from 
Washington  to  Richmond  to  be  something  like 
Broadway,  only  better  paved  and  wider,  is  annoy- 
ingly  interesting,  but  we  are  not  to  finish  it.  The 
door  into  the  hall  is  open,  but  no  footstep  is  heard 
approaching,  nor  any  other  sound,  until  a  low-ton- 
ed, weary  voice  says: 

"  Leave  that  and  come  with  me.  I  am  going  over 
to  McClellan's  house." 

Reply  of  any  sort  seems  to  be  shut  off,  as  if  any- 
thing more  than  rising  with  a  bow  of  silent  acquies- 
cence would  be  disrespectful,  for  there  is  a  world  of 
natural  majesty  in  this  man's  manner  and  presence 
at  times.  He  is  a  born  leader  of  men,  and  he  is  one 
of  the  great  kings  of  the  earth,  ruling  with  wisdom 
and  with  power.  He  strides  on  to  the  stairs,  and 
down  them,  and  out  at  the  door  in  utter  silence. 
The  secretary  has  no  portfolio  to  carry  this  time. 
He  is  nothing  in  the  world  but.an  attendant.  The 
subordinate  commander  we  are  going  to  visit  will 
doubtless  have  members  of  his  rarely  brilliant  staff 
about  him,  and  it  is  fitting  that  the  Commander-in- 
Chief  should  also  bring  along  a  member  of  his  own 
staff,  if  only  by  way  of  contrast.  The  walk  through 
the  streets  is  brief  enough ;  a  bell  is  rung,  and  we 
are  ushered  by  a  servant  into  an  elegant  reception- 
room. 

Why  did  not  the  President  send  instead  of  coming  ? 

Well,  it  is  his  way.  He  is  not  always  careless 
of  the  dignities  of  his  position,  but  his  heart  and 
head  are  full  just  now. 


THE    TWO    CHIEFTAINS.  II5 

It  is  bad  diplomacy,  as  between  two  such  con- 
testants ! 

That  kind  of  fencing-school  diplomacy  is  worth 
about  as  much  in  a  contest  with  Abraham  Lincoln  as 
foils  and  masks  would  be  in  the  battles  he  is  ordering. 

We  are  seated,  and  the  President's  arrival  has 
been  duly  announced,  but  time  is  being  given  him 
to  think  over  what  he  came  for.  General  McClellan 
is  probably  very  busy  over  some  important  detail  of 
his  vast  duties,  and  he  cannot  tear  himself  away  from 
it  at  once.  A  minute  passes,  and  then  another,  and 
then  another,  and  with  every  tick  of  the  clock  upon 
the  mantel  your  blood  warms  nearer  and  nearer  its 
boiling-point.  Your  face  feels  hot  and  your  fingers 
tingle,  as  you  look  at  the  man,  sitting  so  patiently 
over  there,  whom  you  regard  as  the  Titan  and  hero 
of  the  hour;  and  you  try  to  master  your  rebellious 
consciousness  that  he  is  kept  in  waiting,  like  an  ap- 
plicant in  an  anteroom. 

Another  minute — you  are  probably  in  error  as  to 
the  length  of  it — and  the  President  arises  from  his 
chair  at  the  brisk  sound  of  approaching  steps. 
They  are  here.  They  come  in  with  a  vigorous  firm- 
ness and  rapidity  and  precision  which  suggest  the 
idea  of  dash,  of  force,  of  energetic  onslaught — that 
is,  of  all  sorts  of  forward  movements. 

General  McClellan  is  indeed  a  striking  figure,  in 
spite  of  his  shortness.  He  is  the  impersonation  of 
health  and  strength,  and  he  is  in  the  prime  of  early 
manhood.  His  uniform  is  faultless  and  his  stars  are 
brilliant,  especially  the  middle  one  on  each  strap. 
His  face  is  full  of  intelligence,  of  will-power,  of  self- 


1 16    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

assertion,  and  he,  too,  is  in  some  respects  a  born 
leader  of  men.  He  has  been  admirably  educated  for 
such  duties  as  are  now  upon  him,  and  he  has  studied 
the  science  and  art  of  war  among  European  camps 
and  forts  and  armies  and  battle-fields.  He  has  vast 
stores  of  technical  knowledge  never  to  be  acquired 
by  any  man  among  the  backwoods,  or  on  the 
prairies,  or  in  law  courts,  or  in  political  conventions. 
He  can  hardly  conceal  the  clearness  of  his  convic- 
tion that  he  ought  not  to  be  trammeled  by  any  au- 
thority in  human  form  that  is  by  him  supposed  to 
be  destitute  of  the  essential  training  which  he  him- 
self so  fully  possesses. 

Why,  then,  should  he  not  confine  his  genius  to 
army  matters,  and  let  Constitutional  questions  and 
politics  and  policies  alone  ?  He  cannot.  No  Amer- 
ican general  ever  did  or  could,  and  therein  is  the 
danger  of  the  present  situation.  Even  if  he  were 
willingto  let  politics  alone,  he  is  as  sure  to  be  seized 
upon  and  utilized  as  was  Zachary  Taylor.  A  party 
without  a  head  is  conscious  that  it  cannot  organize 
for  effective  campaigns  without  one,  without  him,  or 
something  like  him,  and  its  printed  journals  have 
with  one  voice  summoned  him  to  a  place  upon  the 
vacant  party  shoulders,  or,  if  the  figure  is  better,  to 
a  seat  in  the  empty  political  saddle. 

In  attendance  upon  McClellan  are  a  brigadier-gen- 
eral, and,  part  of  the  time,  #  colonel,  but  they  take 
no  part  in  the  conversation  beyond  a  reply  when 
spoken  to.  There  were  brief  introductions  when 
the  military  dashed  in,  and  now  the  two  chiefs  have 
it  all  to  themselves. 


THE    TWO   CHIEFTAINS.  117 

There  they  sit,  facing  each  other,  in  the  most  cor- 
dial and  mutually  respectful  manner,  for  their  per- 
sonal relations  are  said  to  be  excellent. 

The  contrast  between  the  two  exteriors  is  very 
strong.  It  would  not  be  easy  to  find  two  men  who 
would  resemble  each  other  so  little  at  any  visible 
point.     How  will  they  ever  agree  ? 

They  will  not;  they  do  not  now,  as  they  talk,  al- 
though they  are  conferring  rather  than  arguing;  for 
here  are  two  generals  widely  at  variance,  not  only  as 
to  plans  of  campaign,  but  also  as  to  the  extent  and 
nature  of  their  respective  authorities,  although  nom- 
inally and  technically  in  accord.  Here  are  also  two 
political  chiefs  of  two  great  parties  into  which  the 
nation  is  dividing.  They  are  hardly  less  so  now 
than  they  will  be  two  years  later,  when,  as  opposing 
candidates  for  the  Presidency,  they  will  formally  call 
upon  their  voting  countrymen  to  decide  between 
them  as  to  which  has  been  the  most  sagacious  and 
faithful  interpreter  of  the  popular  will. 

Keep  your  temper,  for  the  President  does  not  seem 
to  have  any  to  keep,  although  the  brilliant  officer 
before  him  is  less  and  less  able  to  conceal  the  fact 
that  he  hardly  considers  himself  a  subordinate.  By 
keeping  cool  you  will  better  understand  a  subtle 
process  which  is  going  on,  known  or  unknown  to 
either  of  the  two  remarkable  gentlemen  who  are 
talking.  You  can  perceive,  as  the  conversational 
mist  clears  away,  that  the  President  has  the  deeper, 
wiser,  broader,  stronger  mind  of  the  two,  and  that 
he  is  utterly  assured  of  his  own  position  and  of  his 
own    purposes.     The    great  magic    of  the  stronger 


118     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

will,  the  tougher  fiber,  the  greater  moral  courage, 
the  untellable  power  which  dwells  in  an  unflinching, 
unshrinking  faith,  are  with  Lincoln  and  are  not  with 
McClellan.  The  Constitution  and  the  laws  are  also 
with  him.  So  will  be  the  unanswerable  logic  of 
events,  and  he  will  surely  win  the  long  wrestling 
match.  Just  now  he  hopes  and  expects  that  his 
splendid  young  army  leader  will  win  in  the  military 
campaign  upon  which  he  is  entering.  Men,  re- 
sources, help  of  every  kind,  will  be  lavished  upon 
the  effort  to  capture  Richmond,  and  there  will  be 
lacking  only  one  thing — the  inner  force  which  the 
President  possesses,  but  which  he  cannot  impart  to 
another. 

The  interview  is  long,  but  it  ends,  and  we  return 
to  the  White  House,  and  with  us  goes  a  strange  sen- 
sation of  having  been  present  at  a  battle,  a  kind  of 
drawn  battle,  from  which  both  sides  retired  with  an 
unsatisfactory  consciousness  that  they  must  meet 
again  and  fight  it  over. 

The  President  talks  more  freely  on  the  way  home. 
He  seems  more  cheerful,  and  he  even  so  far  throws 
off  his  cloak  of  gloom  as  to  relate  something  which 
happened  once  to  General  Marcy.  He  almost 
laughs,  but  not  quite,  when  you  respond  to  his  com- 
ments upon  General  McClellan's  staff,  by  telling  him 
that  the  volunteers  have  given  up  trying  to  pro- 
nounce French  names,  and  have  reduced  the  Due  de 
Chartres  to  Captain  Chatters,  and  the  Comte  de  Paris 
to  Captain  Parry.  Perhaps  he  knew  it  already,  but  he 
does  not  say  so,  for  he  has  paused  before  going  into 
the  house,  and  he  is  standing  by  the  parapet  at  the 


THE   TWO   CHIEFTAINS.  IIQ 

eastern  end  of  the  front,  gazing  silently  southward. 
There  is  good  moonlight,  but  not  enough  to  see 
the  Potomac.  The  river  is  there,  however,  and  in 
the  camps  and  forts  and  works  beyond  it  is  the  great 
army,  which  has  been  so  well  organized  for  war  un- 
der the  skilled  supervision  of  General  McClellan. 

A  long-drawn  breath  and  a  smothered  exclama- 
tion terminate  the  President's  long  minute  of  absorb- 
ed pondering,  and  he  turns  away  and  strides  on 
across  the  portico,  but  the  door  swings  open  as  he 
approaches,  and  there  is  a  serious  tone  in  the  voice 
of  Old  Edward. 

"  The  doctor  has  been  here,  sir." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"The  Madame  would  like  to  see  you  right  away, 
sir.     Soon  as  you  came  in." 

Any  remainder  of  Mrs.  Lincoln's  message  is  cut 
short,  for  the  President  wheels  to  the  right,  and  seems 
to  vanish  up  the  private  stairway. 

"  Is  Willie  really  sick,  Edward  ?" 

"  I  think  he  is,  indeed;  but  she  told  me  not  to 
alarm  the  President.  We'll  know  more  in  the  morn- 
ing.    Good  night,  sir !" 

Morning  comes,  and  there  is  really  nothing  un- 
usual in  the  air,  although  we  are  all  aware  that  a 
tremendous  effort  is  making  to  urge  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  out  of  its  winter  camps  and  on  toward  Rich- 
mond. It  is  a  splendid  army  and  something  should 
be  done  with  it.  It  is  understood  that  an  advance 
has  been  ordered  to  begin  as  early  as  Washington's 
Birthday.     It  is  not  now  imagined  that  it  will  not  be 


120    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

made,  or  that  the  President  will  soon  be  officially- 
informed  that  it  cannot  be  made  "  because  the  pon- 
toons are  not  ready."  Nevertheless,  as  the  days  go 
on,  there  is  an  increasingly  gloomy  shadow  in  the 
house.  Work  in  all  the  rooms  goes  on  as  usual,  but 
now  and  then  the  President  rises  nervously  from  his 
chair  by  the  desk  and  window,  walks  hastily  out  of 
his  office  and  over  into  the  family  side  of  the  build- 
ing. He  will  not  stop  to  speak  to  any  one  by  the 
way,  and  he  is  never  gone  long.  He  is  a  bondsman, 
and  he  cannot  spare  many  of  the  moments  sacred  to 
the  work  of  saving  the  life  of  the  Republic,  not  even 
to  linger  over  the  pallid  face  of  his  sick  boy.  He 
must  look  at  him  and  come  away.  Men  and  women 
all  over  the  land  have  trusted  the  lives  of  their  sol- 
dier boys  in  his  hands,  and  their  own  best  hopes  for 
themselves  and  for  their  other  children,  and  for  un- 
counted multitudes  yet  unborn.  He  must  not  flinch, 
although  the  face  of  little  Willie  seems  to  him  to  come 
back  with  him,  and  the  habitual  gloom  upon  his  own 
has  assumed  a  deeper  shade  of  sadness. 

Day  follows  day,  and  the  shadow  deepens,  and 
some  who  understand  its  meaning  go  about  as  if  they 
did  not  wish  to  make  a  noise  in  walking. 

"  Is  there  no  hope  ? "  is  the  question  which  has  to 
be  asked  at  last. 

"  Not  any.  So  the  doctors  say.  But  the  President 
is  in  his  room  over  there.  You  can  send  your  card 
in,  Mr.  Senator,  if  you  wish  to  see  him.  I've  no  doubt 
he  will  see  you." 

"  See  him  ?  Send  my  card  in,  at  such  a  time  ?  God 
help  him!     Seems  to  me  he  had  enough  to  carry 


THE   TWO  CHIEFTAINS.  121 

without  this.  I  won't  add  a  feather."  And  the  kindly- 
hearted  Senator  stalks  out  of  the  northeast  room 
almost  as  if  he  had  been  insulted. 

"  So,  little  Willie  is  dead  !  An  awful  blow  to  Lin- 
coln !  He  was  fonder  of  that  boy  than  he  was  of  any- 
thing else.  I  remember,  away  back  in  Springfield, 
I've  seen  him — well — I  don't  want  to  say  any  more 
— it's  an  awful  blow  to  the  old  man.  Good  morning. 
I  guess  I'll  go."  And  an  old  Illinois  neighbor  walks 
out,  with  his  head  bowed,  as  if  he  had  lost  one  of  his 
own. 

The  President  at  work  in  his  room  to-day  ?  Why, 
the  coffin  is  in  the  house  !  So  it  is;  the  casket  is  here, 
waiting  to  receive  its  treasure,  while  the  general  now 
crossing  the  hall  goes  into  the  bereaved  father's  office 
to  carry  to  him  the  information  that  the  army  cannot 
move,  and  that  the  plan  of  the  winter  campaign  is 
frustrated  by  the  mud.  The  Confederate  commanders 
have  some  wonderful  secret  of  their  own  by  means 
of  which  they  overcome  mud.     There  is  magic  in  it. 

The  funeral  is  a  very  solemn  affair,  but  it  cannot 
be  permitted  to  interfere  overmuch  with  work.  The 
burden  is  increased  rather  than  laid  aside.  It  was 
put  by  for  a  few  hours,  on  Thursday,  February  20th, 
the  day  that  Willie  died.  There  will  be  another 
break  next  Thursday,  and  the  next  almost  a  break- 
ing-down with  grief,  and  then  calmer  counsels  will 
prevail,  and  the  voice  of  Duty  will  be  heard  as  clearly 
as  ever,  and  Thursday  will  become  like  any  other 
day,  but  really  there  will  have  been  no  perceptible 
intermission  in  the  grim  routine  of  the  toil  which  is 
wearing  out  the  life  of  Mr.  Lincoln. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE    MONITOR    AND   THE    UNION    LEAGUE. 

TT  is  somewhat  more  than  a  fortnight  since  the 
*■  death  of  little  Willie,  but  we  can  yet  all  feel  that 
the  White  House  is  a  family  residence  as  well  as  a 
business  office.  Everybody  under  this  roof  feels,  at 
any  time,  like  a  member  of  a  household  rather  than 
like  a  cog  in  a  machine. 

There  will,  of  course,  be  no  more  receptions  this 
season.  Even  the  Diplomatic  Corps  will  expect  that 
such  as  are  sometimes  given  it,  of  a  limited  and  offi- 
cial character,  will  be  dispensed  with  by  the  social 
law  of«a  house  in  mourning. 

Speaking  of  that  kind  of  formal  and  perfunctory 
hospitality,  the  first  reception  by  this  Administration 
of  the  diplomatists  who  represent  Europe  at  the 
court  of  this  republic,  took  place  on  the  9th  of  March, 
1 861,  and  it  was,  in  some  respects,  an  odd  affair. 
Every  man  and  woman  among  them  was  imbued 
with  the  idea  that  one  of  the  frequent  revolutions  to 
be  expected  in  republics  had  arrived  and  was  at 
work,  and  there  was  no  such  thing  as  telling  what 
it  might  do.  They  were  deeply  interested,  and  they 
all  came  to  pay  their  respects  to  the  revolution. 
That  reception  was,  in  fact,  a  lot  of  fine  old  govern- 
ments, in  professedly  robust  health  and  expecting 
long  lives,  dropping  in  to  see  a  young  government, 


THE  MONITOR  AND  THE  UNION  LEAGUE.      I23 

which  they  believed  to  be  mortally  sick  and  soon  to 
pass  away.  So  they  all  offered  what  they  called 
their  congratulations. 

There  seems  to  be  something  in  a  diplomatic  ed- 
ucation which  enables  a  man  to  be  impressively  sin- 
cere, conversationally.  Here  is  a  polished  and 
highly  developed  example,  talking  French,  for  he 
knows  no  English,  across  the  table  in  the  northeast 
room.  Part  of  the  reply  he  obtains  is  an  expression 
of  regret  for  the  secretary's  limited  vocabulary. 
Calmly  and  smilingly  he  responds  : 

"  You  speak  French  like  a  native  !"  just  as  if  the 
listener  did  not  know  that  he  is  adding,  inwardly, 
"  of  the  United  States."  He  will  say  the  same  thing 
to  this  other  gentleman,  none  of  whose  French  either 
of  us  can  exactly  make  out,  and  will  as  inwardly 
add,  "  of  Holland."  It  is  a  very,  very  old  joke,  but 
it  has  rarely  been  more  perfectly  acted  and  spoken. 
A  fine  actor,  and  he  bows  admirably. 

One  of  the  best  bows  ever  brought  here  came  last 
summer,  all  the  way  from  Asia.  It  came  with  a  sun- 
seasoned  ex-officer  of  the  British  army  in  India.  He 
was  an  Anglo-Indian,  who  had  somehow  been  born 
in  Boston,  and  he  carried  the  first  white  umbrella 
ever  seen  by  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  he  pro- 
posed to  command  a  regiment,  or  even  a  brigade, 
with  that  thing  among  his  possibles.  He  made  a 
temporary  sensation,  but  the  weather  just  then  stood 
by  him,  and  the  boys  agreed  that  there  was  some 
sense  in  a  shelter-tent  that  you  could  carry  on  a 
march. 

As  to  his  bow  ?     Why,  that's  the  very  point  of  it. 


124    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

He  did  not  bring  any  with  him.  His  head  would 
balance  a  pail  of  milk  even  when  he  was  being  in- 
troduced to  the  President.  That  is  by  no  means  the 
case  with  the  polite  pair  who  are  here  to-day,  and 
who  are  also  willing  to  accept  commissions  with 
American  pay  and  rations. 

There  are  not  so  many  applicants  this  season. 
There  are  not  many  visitors  of  any  sort  to-day. 

Is  it  possible  to  remember  all  who  have  been  here  ? 
Yes,  at  times;  every  form  and  face  in  the  long  pro- 
cession. 

The  most  striking  figure  ?  The  handsomest  face  ? 
That  of  Secretary  Chase  ?  Perhaps  so.  Some  would 
say  so,  but  do  you  remember  how  Senator  Colonel 
Baker  looked,  when  first  he  came  through  the  hall 
to  the  door  of  the  President's  room,  with  his  flowing 
white  hair,  his  brilliant  eyes  and  his  noble  face  all 
aglow  with  genius  and  enthusiasm  ?  Came  to  offer 
his  California  regiment  and  his  own  true  heart  and 
his  life  ?  You  thought  of  his  dramatic  record  in  the 
Mexican  War;  of  his  early  friendship  for  Lincoln; 
his  eloquent  lament  for  Broderick — soldier,  orator, 
poet,  statesman,  and  knight  of  romance  more  than 
all;  but  then,  the  pity  of  it,  he  was  thrown  away  at 
Ball's  Bluff! 

The  house  is  as  full  of  shadows  to-day  as  if  it 
were  haunted  by  all  the  ghosts  of  its  long  history; 
but  one  has  just  arrived  which  is  altogether  new  and 
startling. 

The  President  is  vehemently  urging  an  advance 
upon  Richmond,  whether  by  way  of  the  Manassas 
line,  now  abandoned  by  the  enemy,  or  by  way  of  the 


THE  MONITOR  AND  THE  UNION  LEAGUE.      12$ 

James,  or  by  any  other  way;  and  this  piece  of  news 
and  of  black  shadow  seems  to  say  that  the  banks  of 
the  James  are  closed  against  the  Union  troops,  and 
also  that  river  to  the  Union  fleet.  Some  of  our  best 
ships  have  been  shattered  and  sunk  near  its  mouth 
by  an  iron-armored  monster  against  whose  sides 
their  bullets  rattled  like  so  many  peas.  That  mon- 
ster, the  ram  Merrimack  -  Virginia,  it  is  said,  can 
steam  up  the  Potomac  and  shell  the  President  out 
of  the  White  House,  Congress  out  of  the  Capitol, 
and  the  army  out  of  its  earthworks,  while  the  Con- 
federate forces  march  in  to  occupy  the  city  of  Wash- 
ington. 

A  few  moments  of  thoughtful  consideration  of  the 
channel  of  the  Potomac  do  much  to  dispel  that  black 
illusion;  but  the  mischief  the  Merrimack  -  Virginia 
has  already  done  is  terrible,  and  there  is  no  telling 
how  much  more  she  may  do.  It  feels  as  if  some  of  her 
shells  had  indeed  been  thrown  near  enough  to  the 
White  House  for  its  inmates  to  hear  the  explosions, 
and  one  of  them  has  blown  to  pieces  the  plans  which 
were  under  discussion  for  the  capture  of  Richmond 
by  way  of  "  the  Peninsula."  Have  similar  sea-mon- 
sters been  building  in  the  other  rivers  and  harbors 
of  the  Confederacy?  Is  it,  or  can  it  be,  true  that  one 
or  more  of  them  will  quickly  steam  into  the  harbor 
of  New  York  and  carry  into  effect  Fernando  Wood's 
idea  of  severing  that  municipality  from  the  fortunes 
of  the  Union  ?  Of  making  it  as  free  as  one  of  the 
Hanse  Towns  ?  The  air  and  the  minds  of  men 
teem  with  panicky  imaginations  hatched  out  into 
rumors. 


126     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

Night  comes,  after  a  long,  long  day,  and  it  is  an 
uncommonly  dark  night,  for  it  is  to  be  spent  in  wait- 
ing to  hear  that  the  Virginia  is  again  in  sight,  com- 
ing out  of  her  lair  in  the  James. 

There  is  no  sleep  had  worth  mentioning,  and  when 
morning  comes  there  seems  to  be  no  morning  at  all 
until  late  in  the  day. 

The  hours  go  by  at  the  White  House  under  the 
pressure  of  a  constant  stream  of  dispatches,  sent 
over  from  the  War  and  Navy  Departments,  except 
when  the  President  is  there  himself  to  read  them  as 
they  come. 

It  is  a  very  bright  and  pleasant  kind  of  wintry  day 
after  all.  There  was  at  no  time  any  danger  that  the 
Confederate  ram  could  or  would  ram  down  the  Cap- 
itol or  the  Washington  intrenchments.  The  Pres- 
ident has  been  reading,  with  keen  enjoyment,  an  all 
but  continuous  telegraphic  account  of  the  remark- 
able encounter  between  the  Monitor  and  the  Merri- 
mack -  Virginia.  The  monster  which  was  destroy- 
ing our  ships  has  been  met  and  beaten  by  another 
monster,  Bushnell's  and  Ericsson's  and  the  President's 
own,  and  the  story  of  the  fight  sounds  as  nearly  like 
a  story  of  a  miracle  as  one  could  expect  to  hear  in 
these  degenerate  days.  It  is  a  costly  day  for  Eu- 
rope. Probably  it  is  the  costliest  sea-fight  ever 
fought,  for  it  compels  all  the  old  nations  to  put  away 
their  existing  navies  and  build  new  ones,  and  each 
of  the  new  ships  will  be  a  worse  drain  upon  de- 
pleted treasuries  than  would  a  squadron  of  the 
old.  We  shall  at  least  have  peace  with  France 
and   England    until  their  armored  rams  and  mon- 


THE  MONITOR  AND  THE  UNION  LEAGUE.      1 27 

itors  can  be  built  and  launched,  and  that  is  worth 
something. 

A  very  important  part  of  our  shadow  has  vanish- 
ed, or  rather  it  seems  to  have  retreated  up  the  James 
under  a  bond  that  it  will  not  come  out  again  to  meet 
the  Monitor.  By  a  species  of  jubilant  reaction, 
moreover,  its  retreat  has  sealed  the  matter  and  the 
manner  of  the  proposed  advance  upon  Rich- 
mond. There  is  to  be  a  Peninsular  campaign,  and 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  is  in  splendid  condition  to 
make  it. 

It  is  said,  and  probably  with  correctness,  that  one 
of  the  most  important  improvements  made  by  Gen- 
eral McClellan  in  the  organism  of  that  noble  body 
of  men,  in  his  thorough  processes  for  turning  raw 
troops  into  soldiers,  has  been  the  weeding  out  of  in- 
competent officers.  There  are  now,  indeed,  some 
regiments  which  have  hardly  any  officers  left,  and 
not  by  reason  of  deaths  in  battle.  They  all  are 
State  regiments  until  mustered  into  the  National 
service,  and  even  after  that  the  President  has  no 
appointing  power  over  them.  He  can  manufac- 
ture a  general,  but  not  a  colonel  nor  an  officer  of 
a  lower  grade,  except  in  the  staff,  or  in  the  regular 
army. 

To  show  how  the  division  of  the  appointing  power 
works,  read  this  letter  just  arrived.  It  is  from  a 
patriotic  gentleman  in  Central  New  York,  inclos- 
ing one  from  his  son,  serving  in  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  : 

"It  is  remarkable,  you  say?  He  is  only  an  or- 
derly sergeant,  and  he  has  no  commission,  but  he  is 


128    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

actually  in  command  of  all  there  is  left,  several  com- 
panies, of  a  fine  regiment  of  cavalry. 

"  They  are  tip-top  letters,  his  and  his  father's  ? 
You  have  known  them  from  your  childhood  ?  Well, 
Mr.  Lincoln  will  give  him  his  shoulder-straps,  be- 
yond a  doubt.  He  will  be  out  of  his  difficulties 
right  away,  and  so  will  his  regiment." 

We  will  go  over  into  the  President's  room,  at  all 
events,  and  state  the  case  to  him. 

It  is  easy  to  get  his  attention  to  it,  of  course,  and 
he  listens,  and  he  takes  the  letters  and  reads  them, 
and  he  seems  to  be  pondering  important  matters 
suggested  to  him. 

"  It's  of  no  use.  I  cannot  promote  that  man.  His 
appointment  must  come  from  the  Governor  of  the 
State  of  New  York.  You  had  better  sit  down  and 
write  to  him." 

"  May  I  say  that  I  do  so  by  your  direction,  Mr. 
Lincoln  ?" 

"  Yes;  tell  Morgan  I  told  you  to  send  the  matter 
to  him." 

The  several  State  Governors  have  sent  many  re- 
quests to  the  President,  relating  to  the  affairs  of 
their  regiments  and  their  officers;  but  this,  perhaps, 
is  the  first  petition  of  the  kind  sent  by  the  President 
to  a  Governor.  Write  the  letter,  put  in  the  letters 
of  the  sergeant  and  his  father,  and  see  how  it  will 
Avork. 

There  are  not  many  days  to  wait,  and  it  looks 
half-way  as  if  Mr.  Lincoln  had  some  power.  The 
return  mail  announces  a  commission  to  the  sergeant 
as  second  lieutenant,  but  almost  the  next  mail  from 


THE  MONITOR  AND  THE  UNION  LEAGUE.      129 

Albany  to  this  camp  lifts  him  another  step,  and  he 
hardly  has  time  to  turn  around  before  he  is  made  a 
captain.  He  is  a  competent  officer,  and  he  will  draw 
his  pay  in  that  grade  but  once  or  twice  before  com- 
manding his  thin  regiment  as  its  major;  but  his  con- 
secutive commissions  are  signed  by  Governor  Mor- 
gan, and  not  by  President  Lincoln. 

There  is  a  kind  of  relief  to  be  obtained,  now  and 
then,  by  getting  up  and  going  to  the  door  of  this 
northeast  room  and  taking  notes  of  those  who  come 
and  go  through  the  hall  ;  but  there  is  generally 
small  time  for  that,  or  any  other  mere  amusement. 
It  is  not  often,  however,  that  any  visitor,  great  or 
small,  can  arouse  any  active  feeling  of  curiosity  in  a 
mind  that  is  hackneyed  or  surfeited  or  hardened 
with  so  meich  meeting  of  great  men  and  startling 
events.  Nobody's  heart  can  now  be  made  to  beat 
quickly  so  easily  as  it  could  a  few  months  ago.  Still, 
it  is  curious  that  the  President  should  have  so  much 
to  do  with  the  Land  Office,  when  he  does  not  buy 
or  sell  any  land,  and  when  all  his  land  patents,  few 
enough,  nowadays,  are  signed  for  him,  and  when  he 
will  not  so  much  as  appoint  a  Land  Office  clerk. 
That  is  Judge  Edmunds,  nevertheless,  that  tall, 
stooping,  sagacious-faced,  humorous-looking,  to- 
bacco-chewing, carelessly  dressed,  elderly  man,  and 
he  is  Commissioner  of  the  General  Land  Office.  He 
has  been  up  here  again  and  again  of  late.  To  be 
sure,  he  is  a  personal  friend  of  the  President,  and  is 
supposed  to  be  much  trusted  by  him.  He  has  just 
held  a  long  conference  with  him,  and  now  he  is  com- 
ing over  into  the  northeast  room,  for  he  is  a  great 


130    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

friend  of  ours  also,  and  a  shrewder,  keener  political 
manager  has  not  been  found  alive  since  the  burial 
of  Martin  Van  Buren. 

The  condition  of  political  parties  is  not  easy  to 
understand.  A  vast  number  of  the  voters  who  un- 
reservedly sustain  the  Lincoln  Administration  are 
doing  army  and  navy  duty,  and  not  only  their  votes 
but  their  personal  influence  will  be  absent  through 
this  current  season,  and  at  the  polls  next  Novem- 
ber. The  shattered  and  scattered  elements  of  the 
Opposition  are  finding  each  other  out,  and  are  or- 
ganizing. Nobody  knows  how  large  a  part  of  the 
old-time  Democracy,  Douglas  or  Breckinridge,  is 
now  Republican.  We  know  where  Dix  and  Stanton 
and  Logan  and  Grant  and  Butler  and  many  another 
Democrat  has  landed,  but  they  are  not  at  home  just 
now,  and  the  aspect  of  things  is  dark.  From  every 
corner  of  the  country  comes  up  the  many-voiced  re- 
port: "  The  Republican  party  is  disorganized,  and 
is  on  the  way  to  a  disastrous  defeat." 

The  Opposition  will  be  a  Union  party,  moreover, 
with  a  brilliant  Union  general  at  its  head,  and  it  may 
obtain  control  of  both  the  military  and  the  civil  pow- 
ers of  the  Union,  and  it  may  make  peace  at  any  sac- 
rifice. Nobody  can  guess  what  changes  it  might  make 
in  the  present  attitude  and  future  life  of  the  nation. 
Something  must  be  done,  for  it  is  well  known  that 
the  wise  and  energetic  chiefs  of  the  Confederacy  are 
tirelessly  at  work  upon  the  political  field  of  the 
North.  The  secret  lodges  of  the  Knights  of  the 
Golden  Circle,  and  of  other  knightly  orders,  are  es- 
tablished   more  widely  than  you    might  see  fit  to 


THE  MONITOR  AND  THE  UNION  LEAGUE.       131 

believe.  Baker's  detectives  have  attended  hundreds 
of  them. 

"  Good  morning,  Judge  Edmunds." 

"  Good  morning.  Come  down  to  my  room  in  the 
Land  Office  at  about  seven  o'clock  this  evening. 
Don't  tell  anybody  you  are  coming — not  even  Mr. 
Lincoln." 

"All  right;   I'll  be  there." 

So  the  day  goes  by  in  its  usual  routine  and  even- 
ing comes,  and  you  saunter  down  the  avenue  and 
up  Seventh  Street  to  the  Interior  Department  build- 
ing, containing  the  room-ranges  of  the  Land  Office. 
The  office  of  the  Commissioner  is  a  trifle  disorderly 
and  musty,  but  it  is  large,  and  it  is  exceedingly  re- 
tired at  this  hour  of  the  day.  Nobody,  without  a 
special  permit,  or  a  latch-key,  can  obtain  admission 
to  the  building,  and  evidently  less  than  a  score  of 
names  have  been  left  with  the  doorkeeper.  The  gen- 
tlemen whose  names  were  on  his  list  arrive  rapidly, 
and  there  is  a  great  deal  of  informal  discussion  going 
on  among  them  before  they  are  called  to  order  by 
Judge  Edmunds. 

They  are  men  who  do  not  need  to  be  minutely  in- 
structed as  to  the  political  situation,  or  as  to  the 
reason  why  they  are  here.  Knowing  what  they  have 
come  for,  they  go  to  work  in  a  dry,  practical,  busi- 
ness-like way,  and  not  a  single  flash  of  oratory 
breaks  in  upon  the  busy  conference.  They  have  a 
pretty  important  job  on  hand,  too,  for  they  are  plan- 
ning, and  at  the  close  they  have  planned  and  are 
prepared  to  create  and  to  organize  the  Union  League 
of  America,  the  most  perfect  party  skeleton  ever 


132     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

put  together  for  utter  efficiency  of  political  machine 
work.  They  have  determined  to  form  a  dozen  sub- 
ordinate councils  in  the  city  of  Washington  to  begin 
with,  and  they  have  chosen  a  president,  vice-pres- 
ident, secretary  and  corresponding  secretary,  each 
with  a  prefix  of  "  Grand,"  and  a  permanent  Grand 
Council  of  Twelve.  The  entire  business  wears  a 
look  of  having  been  prearranged,  and  your  latch-key 
fits  the  door  of  the  Grand  Council,  as  belonging  to 
a  member  of  it,  and  will  continue  to  do  so;  and  you 
are  grand  corresponding  secretary,  in  addition  to 
your  other  mail  duties,  and  have  a  council  of  your 
own  to  preside  over,  consisting  mainly  of  Members 
of  Congress,  Department  clerks,  and  a  Cabinet  of- 
ficer, and  a  lot  of  army  men.  There  is  no  trouble 
about  the  finances  of  the  young  organization,  and  it 
can  send  out  its  missionaries  by  the  score  to  spread 
its  work.  Money  ?  Why,  as  an  instance  of  patriot- 
ism, one  prominent  contractor  for  army  supplies 
was  informed  at  one  of  the  Departments  of  the  press- 
ing needs  of  the  League,  and  he  at  once  sent  in  a 
check  for  $10,000.  The  Department  always  did  like 
that  man,  and  it  liked  him  all  the  better  for  his 
prompt  and  patriotic  munificence.  There  were  in- 
numerable instances  of  liberality,  large  and  small, 
and  the  missionaries  were  sent,  and  in  every  city 
and  town  and  village  of  the  North  they  set  a-going 
a  rigidly  spontaneous  local  organization,  well  known 
by  its  organizers,  except  in  a  few  cases,  to  have 
sprung  up  like  a  mushroom,  without  the  help  of 
outside  hands  to  plant  or  to  cultivate  it. 

Under  nearly  all  previous  Administrations,   the 


THE  MONITOR  AND  THE  UNION  LEAGUE.       1 33 

White  House  has  been  the  centre  of  a  vast  spider- 
web  of  political  machinery  and  party  operations. 
Its  present  occupant  has  another  kind  of  war  upon 
his  hands  and  he  would  gladly  attend  to  that  alto- 
gether, but  he  cannot.  There  is  no  Confederate 
army  in  the  field  that  is  so  dangerous  as  is  the 
political  army  now  assailing  the  Administration, 
and  the  Commander-in-Chief  must  watch  every  foe 
at  every  point  of  the  wide  and  stormy  horizon.  The 
Union  League  is  to  be  the  rearguard  of  the  Boys  in 
Blue,  and  its  numberless  "  councils  "  are  to  be  as 
camp-fires.  All  that  the  loyal  voting  elements  re- 
quired was  to  be  mustered  in  and  drilled  and  disci- 
plined, and  the  coming  political  battle-fields  are  now 
to  be  securely  won  beforehand. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THE   CAPITOL   ANfi   THE   FUTURE. 

'"THERE  is  a  wearisome  degree  of  samenet  3  in 
White  House  days,  although  no  two  of  them 
are  alike,  any  more  than  are  the  men  who  come. 
Just  such  a  descriptive  rule  applies  to  the  press  re- 
porters. There  is  a  limited  list  who  privilege  them- 
selves to  come  here  whenever  they  see  fit.  They 
come  when  news  is  scarce,  with  a  hope  of  having 
some  found  or  invented  for  them.  They  come  when 
news  is  plentiful,  for  they  intensely  represent  the  ex- 
cited and  hungry  public  mind,  and  they  are  anxious 
to  assure  themselves  that  they  have  learned  all  there 
is  to  be  learned.  The  President  himself  likes  to 
have  them  come,  and  meets  them  cordially.  Among 
them  are  a  number  of  remarkable  men,  young  or 
old.  Probably  they  have  no  idea  how  much  they 
tell  him,  or  how  through  them,  as  if  through  so 
many  human  magnetic  wires,  he  receives  message 
after  message  from  the  current  thought  and  purpose 
of  the  popular  masses  whom  he  understands  so  much 
better  than  they  do. 

That  wiry,  sallow,  silent-stepping  gentleman,  who 
has  just  come  over  here  after  a  visit  to  the  Presi- 
dent's rooms,  is  Mr.  Gobright,  the  agent  and  repre- 
sentative of  the  Associated  Press,  the  censor  of  all 
war  rumors,  and  the  condenser  of  all  unofficial  news 

'34 


THE   CAPITOL   AND   THE    FUTURE.  1 35 

dispatches.  He  knows  a  great  deal,  and  he  looks 
as  if  he  knew  everything  and  wished  only  to  ascer- 
tain whether  or  not  your  own  knowledge  and  under- 
standing are  accurate.  That  is  all  he  came  for,  and 
he  may  have  found  the  President  fairly  well  advised 
of  the  condition  of  things.  If  not,  he  has  set  him 
right,  as  a  duty,  but  he  will  rarely  tell  you  or  any 
other  mere  private  citizen  of  any  news-error  he  may 
find  you  falling  into.  He  will  hear  what  you  have 
to  say,  however,  with  extreme  courtesy.  His  entire 
face  is  critical,  but  confidential  and  trustworthy  and 
secret-keeping,  and  he  is  an  epitome  of  the  entire 
reporting  science  and  art.  When  you  have  con- 
versed with  him  analytically,  you  have  no  need  to 
study  any  of  the  other  reporters,  except  as  interest- 
ing individual  characters.  As  for  that,  the  widening 
system  of  press  correspondence  is  drawing  into  its 
service  a  remarkable  variety  and  amount  of  capacity 
and  of  culture.  That  young-looking  woman  out 
yonder,  for  instance,  whose  face  and  form  were  mod- 
eled in  Athens,  is  not  exactly  a  reporter,  but  she  is 
an  enthusiastic  war  correspondent,  and  she,  and 
others  more  or  less  like  her,  come  up  here  frequent- 
ly to  gather  materials  for  present  and  future  letter- 
writing.  She  is  a  genius,  and  so,  of  a  widely  differ- 
ent type,  is  the  lady  who  passes  her  without  speaking, 
and  gazes  out  of  the  eastern  window  of  the  hall. 

This  lady,  so  tall,  so  handsome,  though  neither 
pretty  nor  beautiful,  with  such  fine  black  eyes,  such 
luxuriant  black  hair,  so  liberal  a  display  of  white 
teeth  when  she  so  often  smiles,  she  is  neither  report- 
er nor  correspondent.     You  should  not  say  "woman" 


13O     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

when  you  speak  of  her,  for  the  essence  of  her  posi- 
tion is  that  she  is  a  lady,  descended  from  the  first 
families.  She  is  careful  of  her  social  position,  what- 
ever it  is.  She  has  a  house,  and  she  is  said  to  keep 
boarders,  but  she  by  no  means  keeps  a  boarding- 
house.  She  is  a  singularly  regular  attendant  upon 
the  sessions  of  Congress,  and  she  knows  its  mem- 
bers well,  of  both  Houses.  She  has  endless  rounds 
of  visits  to  make,  upon  varied  business  or  pleasure 
at  the  several  Departments,  but  if  she  is  at  all  a  lob- 
byist, she  would  not  have  it  said  so.  She  dresses 
well,  for  her  shapely  and  graceful  figure  is  always 
covered  by  much-trimmed  black  silk.  She  may  be 
thirty,  and  she  may  be  five  or  ten  years  more,  but 
you  cannot  always  tell.  She  has  excellent  tact,  and 
her  business  visits  here  to  the  White  House  have 
been  well  managed.  They  have  been  mainly  with 
reference  to  pardons  and  the  like,  or  else — and  some- 
what more  frequently — she  comes  merely  to  show 
the  White  House  to  distinguished  friends  or  guests 
from  a  distance.  She  shows  them  the  Capitol  also, 
and  they  learn  that  she  knows  all  things  and  every- 
body, and  that  she  has  influence,  and  the  entree,  and 
somehow  or  other  her  field  of  operations  is  made 
profitable. 

If  you  can  consent  to  play  the  prophet  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  come  up  here  again  in  the  days  of  Pres- 
ident Cleveland,  only  a  quarter  of  a  century  later,  we 
will  sit  down  in  an  anteroom  that  is  now  the  sleep- 
ing-room of  Nicolay  and  Hay.  While  you  are  waiting 
to  be  called  into  the  President's  room,  you  will  see 
a    tall,    dark-eyed,     dark-haired    woman   walking 


THE   CAriTOL   AND    THE   FUTURE.  1 37 

around,  and  gracefully  explaining  to  a  party  of 
friends  some  interesting  points  of  the  history  of  the 
White  House.  It  may  be  by  accident,  a  mere  slip, 
that  she  speaks  of  actually  meeting  somebody  here 
in  Polk's  time,  for  she  cannot  be  over  thirty  or 
thirty-five — you  cannot  always  tell,  but  she  cor- 
rects her  remark,  and  erases  the  expression  of  her 
personal  presence  then,  just  as  you  remember  some- 
thing. You  will  remember  the  smile  and  the  teeth, 
and  the  black  silk,  and  it  will  be  of  no  use  to  rub 
your  eyes  and  say  to  yourself,  "Sometimes  a  daugh- 
ter is  the  very  image  of  her  mother,"  for  she  slips 
again  with,  "That  was  Lincoln's  room.  He  said  to 
me  once " 

The  rest  you  do  not  hear,  but  a  picture  steps  down 
and  out  of  its  place  in  your  memory,  and  comes  into 
the  northeast  room  to  say,  winningly, 

"  I  do  so  wish  to  give  my  friends  a  look  at  the  con- 
servatory." 

There  sometimes  comes  a  curious,  vague,  not  al- 
together pleasant  impression  that  the  spreading, 
rambling,  half  village,  half  fortified  post,  into  which 
the  city  of  Washington  has  grown,  contains  but  two 
buildings,  to  which  all  the  other  structures  serve  as 
one  and  another  kind  of  outbuilding.  They  are  a 
mile  apart,  but  they  reach  out  into  everything  else, 
and,  in  several  ways,  they  reach  into  each  other,  for 
they  are  the  Capitol  and  the  Executive  Mansion. 

Always  and  every  day,  when  the  President  is  here, 
Congress  is  well  represented  at  these  headquarters. 
The  Committee  upon  the  Conduct  of  the  War  does 


I38     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

its  duty  nobly,  and  so  do  all  its  self-appointed  assist- 
ants. No  men  in  Congress  are  more  frequent  visit- 
ors here,  or  are  more  cordially  welcomed  than  are 
the  very  important  squad  of  War  Democrats.  They 
are  a  capable  set  of  men,  and  they  are  not  found 
voting  on  the  wrong  side  half  so  often  as  are  some 
nominal  Republicans.  In  fact,  the  old  party  lines 
are  disappearing  and  new  ones  are  forming,  and 
some  of  the  symptoms  of  the  change  are  almost 
comical.  That  robust  and  jolly-looking  Congress- 
man yonder,  for  instance,  an  old  antislavery  man, 
puts  on  an  injured  air  as  soon  as  he  draws  near  the 
portico,  for  he  has  not  yet  recovered  from  his  orig- 
inal idea  that  he  and  Lincoln  were  elected  President 
at  the  same  time — Lincoln  to  carry  on  the  business 
as  his  agent,  but  he  to  direct  how  it  is  to  be  carried 
on.  Such  an  understanding  as  that  should  have 
been  reduced  to  writing  in  the  first  place,  so  as  to 
bind  both  parties,  for  the  nominal  President  has  for- 
gotten it. 

Perhaps  he  has  no  time  to  think  of  it,  with  so  many 
other  Congressmen  and  Senators  coming  up  to  see 
him  with  fully  developed  perceptions  of  their  own 
rights  of  every  kind.  A  splendid  lot  of  men  they  are, 
too,  in  spite  of  the  stupid  abuse  heaped  upon  them 
by  the  critical  press.  They  are  honest,  able,  patri- 
otic, and  they  are  beginning  to  really  understand  Mr. 
Lincoln. 

If  the  Capitol  reaches  over  into  the  White  House, 
it  is  partly  because  now  more  than  ever  before — 
excepting  during  the  days  when  Jackson  ruled  one 
House  through  Martin   Van  Buren   and   the   other 


THE   CAPITOL    AND   THE    FUTURE.  1 39 

through  James  K.  Polk — the  Executive  branch  of 
the  Government  powerfully  influences  and,  at  times, 
all  but  controls  the  Legislative  branch.  Thad.  Ste- 
vens is  here  very,  very  often. 

There  are  many  public  messages  going,  almost 
daily,  it  seems,  from  this  end  of  the  avenue  to  the 
other,  but  they  carry  only  part  of  the  electric  current 
of  influence  which  travels  the  same  road  all  the  time. 

It  is  Nicolay's  business,  or  Hay's,  or  that  of  both, 
to  carry  those  messages,  as  a  rule,  and  they  have  a 
two-horse  cab  in  which  to  ride  to  the  Capitol.  When 
those  horses  were  first  procured,  the  two  younger 
secretaries  were  seized  with  the  idea  of  perfecting 
their  horsemanship  by  taking  early  morning  saddle 
exercise,  but  in  less  than  a  fortnight  they  gave  it  up. 
Gallops  before  breakfast  were  too  much  like  cavalry 
service  without  pay  or  rations. 

There  is  an  uncommonly  severe  pressure  in  the 
other  room  to-day,  and  we  have  to  take  our  turn  in 
bearing  a  message  from  the  White  House  to  the 
Capitol.  We  need  no  carriage  and  go  by  the  street- 
cars. 

There  is  remarkable  company  to  be  had,  at  times, 
in  a  Washington  City  street-car.  Stand  here  on  the 
rear  platform  and  look  in,  for  it  is  not  necessary  to 
go  in  and  sit  down.  In  the  far  corner  is  the  Gov- 
ernor of  a  Northern  State,  conversing  with  a  Senator 
sitting  opposite,  and  ignorant  of  the  character  of  the 
pickpocket  sitting  next  him,  as  he  probably  is  of  the 
character  of  these  overdressed  females  in  the  centre. 
The  pale-faced  volunteer,  yonder,  is  chatting  freely 
with   the  major-general,  who  may  some  day  lead 


[40    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

him  in  the  field.  It  is  not  easy  to  guess  why  that 
dashing  paymaster  should  be  laughing  so  familiarly 
with  the  witty  fellow  at  his  side.  He  may,  or  he 
may  not — perhaps  not,  on  the  whole — be  acquainted 
with  the  faces  of  all  of  Baker's  detectives.  That  is  a 
witty  friend  of  Baker,  as  well  as  of  the  dashing  pay- 
master. The  very  quiet  gentleman,  this  side  of 
them,  is  a  member  of  the  Cabinet,  undergoing  a 
course  of  instruction  from  a  war  correspondent. 

The  Capitol  is  a  superb  building,  in  spite  of  its  un- 
finished look.  There  are  massive  stones  and  other 
materials  scattered  over  the  ground  beyond  it,  but 
we  do  not  see  them  as  we  approach  from  the  west. 
Not  until  we  are  carried  away  around  the  north  side 
and  up  the  hill.  The  flags  are  floating  upon  both 
wings  to  show  that  Senate  and  House  are  in  session, 
but  you  hardly  notice  them  in  the  daytime.  At 
night,  however,  there  is  an  arrangement  by  which  a 
brilliant  gleam  of  light  shoots  up  across  their  stripes 
and  stars,  and  makes  them  beautiful.  In  the  dark 
nights  at  the  close  of  the  Buchanan  term,  it  some- 
times seemed,  especially  toward  morning  of  the  long 
and  stormy  night  sessions,  as  you  came  out  before 
an  adjournment  for  a  look  at  them,  as  if  the  light 
upon  those  banners  was  about  all  the  cheerfulness 
left  in  the  country,  and  you  believed  it  was  a  kind 
of  prophecy.  One  custom,  correspondent  to  this, 
has  never  been  adopted,  and,  with  or  without  a  rea- 
son for  it,  the  flag  of  the  United  States  does  not  float 
over  the  headquarters  of  the  Commander-in-Chief, 
even  in  time  of  war.  Perhaps  his  tent  does  not  need 
any  flag. 


THE   CAHTOL   AND   THE   FUTURE.  I4I 

Near  the  corner  of  the  vacant  space  before  the 
eastern  front  of  the  Capitol,  the  space  the  crowd 
stands  upon  to  hear  Inauguration  addresses,  there  is 
a  small,  unpainted  pine  cabin,  with  a  sign  over  its 
door: 

Superintendent  of  the  Dome. 

There  is  a  queer  superstition  that  the  dome  is  never 
to  be  finished,  and  that  the  coming  crash  of  the  Re- 
public will  leave  the  Capitol  in  the  hands  of  those 
who  will  tear'it  down,  even  if  they  do  not  convey  its 
stones  to  Richmond.  So  strongly  has  this  idea  been 
expressed  that  it  has  greatly  stimulated  economical 
Congressmen  in  the  matter  of  appropriations  for  this 
and  other  public  buildings,  and  work  upon  them  is 
pressed  with  greater,  costlier  energy,  than  it  was  be- 
fore the  outbreak  of  the  war. 

Up  the  steps  to  the  eastern  portico  and  into  the 
building,  not  at  all  as  a  private  individual,  a  citizen, 
but  as  something  from  the  White  House,  reaching 
into  this  other  side  of  the  National  Government. 
Both  Houses  must  be  visited,  but  both  will  receive 
you  in  the  same  manner.  We  will  visit  the  House  of 
Representatives  after  having  looked  in  at  the  Senate. 

You  are  carrying  something  in  the  nature  of  a 
paper  latch-key,  and  the  door  before  you  seems  to 
open  of  itself,  so  prompt  is  the  ready  doorkeeper  to 
recognize  the  presence  of  an  errand  from  the  Exec- 
utive. He  walks  into  the  Chamber  of  Representa- 
tives with  you,  just  is  an  eloquent  member  is  de- 
nouncing some  feature  of  the  misconduct  of  the  war, 
and  his  eloquence  is  suddenly  interrupted. 


142     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

"  The  President's  Private  Secretary  !" 

Down  comes  the  Speaker's  hammer,  and  he  an- 
nounces, loudly: 

"  A  message  from  the  President  of  the  United 
States  !" 

Forward  marches  the  Sergeant-at-Arms  to  your 
side,  and  in  a  moment  more  your  paper  latch-key  is 
before  the  Speaker,  and  with  its  further  treatment  by 
the  House  you  have  nothing  to  do.  The  doorkeep- 
ers have  made  you  free  of  the  legislative  chambers 
heretofore,  but  from  this  day  forward  you  are  legally 
entitled  to  "  the  privilege  of  the  floor,"  to  come  and 
to  go  at  will,  except  when  the  Senate  is  in  executive 
session,  the  theory  being  that  you  are  supposed  to 
be  always  on  business  for  the  President  and  cannot 
be  questioned  as  to  its  nature.  Your  latch-key  will 
fit  at  any  time,  but  it  may  wear  out,  or  the  lock  may 
be  changed. 

After  all,  there  is  something  like  smoothness  in 
the  way  the  Legislative  and  Executive  horses  pull 
together  at  the  national  load.  It  is  so  very  heavy, 
and  both  are  in  such  patriotic  earnest,  that  it  shall 
be  pulled  through  all  this  varied  mud  to  the  high 
and  dry  ground  of  a  final  victory.  It  is  terribly  deep 
mud,  however,  and  it  is  said  now  that  the  road  up 
the  James  is  as  bad  as  anything  ever  discovered  over 
here,  across  the  Potomac,  toward  Manassas  Gap. 
The  current  reports  from  the  Peninsula  tell  of  much 
camping  and  of  comparatively  little  forward  march- 
ing, and  it  is  well  understood  that  the  Confederate 
leader  is  concentrating  his  forces  to  resist  the  Union 
advance.     He  ought  to  be  shot  by  his  own  soldiers 


THE   CAPITOL   AND   THE   FUTURE.  I43 

if  he  did  not,  and  the  fact  that  the  opportunity  is 
given  him  is  calling  out  a  terrific  storm  of  angry 
comment  from  every  corner  of  the  North.  Never 
before  did  such  letters  of  wild  reproach  come  pour- 
ing through  the  mails.  They  come  by  the  hundred; 
and  they  come  now,  largely,  from  even  mothers 
whose  sons  are  in  the  army.  The  President  cannot 
take  time  to  read  them,  but  it  is  not  true  that  he  does 
not  hear  and  understand  the  vast  and  thrilling  vol- 
ume of  these  voices.  He  will  have  their  tone  and 
meaning  in  his  mind  and  memory  a  few  months  later, 
when  he  takes  action  which  will  seem  to  some  timid 
people  to  be  perilously  beyond  the  prudences  of  his 
authority. 

Read  !  read  !  read  !  and  hear  also  what  is  said  to  one 
another  by  the  Senators  and  Congressmen  who  drift 
into  this  northeast  room  for  little  conferences  and 
conversations  before  going  in  to  lay  their  views 
before  the  President.  If  they  talk  to  him  as  they 
do  here,  his  ears  must  tingle  at  times.  Your  own 
tingle,  and  your  cheeks  burn  as  your  eyes  glance 
over  the  letters  before  putting  them  into  the  waste- 
baskets.  It  is  almost  a  relief  to  find  that  every  other 
commander  in  the  field  has  as  bitter  commentators 
as  has  General  McClellan  himself.  According  to  a 
mass  of  testimony  daily  consigned  to  these  wicker- 
work  oblivions,  Halleck  is  a  pedantic  fool;  Grant  is 
a  blundering  drunkard;  Burnside  is  a  sluggard;  Pope 
is  a  windmill;  Buel  is  a  traitor;  Schofield  is  a  tyrant; 
and  a  score  of  other  more  or  less  prominent  generals 
are  mere  thieves,  feathering  their  own  nests,  with 
the  assistance  of  corrupt  quartermasters  and  com- 


144    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

missaries.  Every  assignment  to  duty  yet  made  by  the 
President  is  a  pernicious  mistake,  and  every  cam- 
paign is  a  failure,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  army 
lines  are  moving  steadily  southward,  that  the  Atlan- 
tic coast  is  ours,  and  the  Gulf  and  the  mouth  of  the 
Mississippi,  and  that  McClellan  is  confidently  expect- 
ed to  win  some  victories,  very  soon,  upon  the  James. 

Mr.  Lincoln  is  alone  in  his  room  this  morning,  and 
you  have  good  cause  to  go  in  and  show  him  some- 
thing, and  it  seems  as  if  the  fermentation  within  you 
blows  out  its  cork.  He  is  sometimes  a  very  patient 
listener,  and  he  hears  more  than  some  men  think  he 
does.  You  have  a  keen  sensation  that  he  is  just  now 
not  exactly  listening  to  you — that  is,  not  to  you  only 
— but  his  reply  is  of  a  sort  which  you  will  not  at 
once  repeat.  It  is  given  very  thoughtfully,  slowly, 
with  wrinkled  brows  and  with  eyes  that  turn  toward 
your  own  from  a  long,  dreamy  stare  through  the 
window  southward  : 

"Well,  well,  I  will  say  it:  for  organizing  an 
army,  for  preparing  an  army  for  the  field,  for  fight- 
ing a  defensive  campaign,  I  will  back  General 
McClellan  against  any  general  of  modern  times.  I 
don't  know  but  of  ancient  times,  either.  But  I  begin 
to  believe  that  he  will  never  get  ready  to  go  forward." 

He  turns  from  you  to  a  pile  of  dispatches,  and  a 
few  months  later  you  will  think  you  are  listening  to 
almost  a  repetition  of  the  same  mournful  commen- 
tary, and  then  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  will  pass 
rapidly  into  the  hands  of  chief  after  chief,  until  one 
is  found  under  whom  it  can  do  no  other  thing  than 
go  forward,  through  blood  and  fire,  to  the  very  end. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

SENTRIES    AND    PASSES. 

A  SOMEWHAT  remarkable  order  has  "been  is- 
**  sued  by  the  military  chief  in  command  of  the 
city  of  Washington.  The  way  he  came  to  issue  it 
is  this.  Over  in  the  western  part  of  the  city  there 
was  an  extensive  cavalry  corral,  with  stables  and 
sheds  and  piles  of  baled  hay  and  other  forage.  One 
night  it  was  all  burned  up,  with  a  loss  also  of  many 
horses,  and  the  fire  was  said  to  have  been  lighted  by 
a  cigar.  Another  saying  put  the  blame  upon  Con- 
federate spies  or  sympathizers,  but  the  angry  gen- 
eral has  sent  out  a  decree  rigidly  prohibiting  smoking 
"in  or  near  any  Government  building."  His  order 
was  intended  only  for  army  use,  of  course,  but  its 
phrases  are  somewhat  broad,  and  he  has  zealous  and 
intelligent  subordinates.  There  is,  moreover,  an  im- 
mense amount  of  smoking  going  on,  and  there  are  a 
number  of  Government  buildings,  of  one  sort  and 
another. 

It  is  getting  dark  early  this  evening.  We  have 
dined,  but  we  must  look  in  at  the  White  House  once 
more.  It  is  a  pretty  carefully  guarded  headquarters 
in  these  days,  for  some  unexplained  reason.  They 
post  foot-sentries  at  the  foot-gates  of  the  grounds, 
and  mounted  sentries  in  the  carriage-gates,  and 
there  is  a  regular  guard-mounting,  so  that  things 

MS 


146    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

begin  to  look  more  like  war.  They  don't  require  a 
countersign  yet. 

"  Put  out  dot  cigar-r-r  !" 

"  What?"  But  the  pathway  through  the  eastern 
gate  is  barred  by  a  rifle  and  a  sabre-bayonet,  and 
the  command  is  sternly  repeated,  in  an  accent  that 
tells  of  the  Rhine: 

"  Put  out  dot  cigar-r-r  !" 

There  is  no  help  for  it.  Out  it  goes.  We  will  walk 
on  into  the  house. 

"  Mr.  Secretary  !  Wait  a  moment !  Best  joke  you 
ever  heard !" 

It  is  the  voice  of  the  mounted  guard,  who  sat  in 
his  saddle  in  the  carriage-way  and  chuckled  over 
your  discomfiture,  and  he  has  galloped  alongside 
of  you. 

"  It  wasn't  an  hour  ago  that  Germany  halted 
Stanton  right  there,  just  as  he  did  you  !" 

"  Did  he  make  him  throw  away  his  cigar  ?" 

"  Well,  he  did  !  Stanton  all  but  ran  against  him 
in  the  dark,  and  Germany  shouted  at  him  :  '  You 
puts  out  dot  cigar !'  till  he  gave  it  up.  But  that 
wasn't  all.  Stanton  laughed,  but  he  hadn't  more'n 
got  out  of  sight  before  old  Seward,  he  came  along, 
and  he's  'most  always  a-smoking." 

"  Did  he  halt  Seward  ?" 

"  You  bet !  He  pointed  his  frog-sticker  at  him 
and  yelled  :  '  You  put  out  dot  cigar  !'  '  Oh,  I  guess 
not,'  said  Seward,  and  he  was  going  right  along,  but 
he  had  to  halt  and  stand  still,  and  no  kind  of  expla- 
nation was  worth  a  cent.  Out  it  had  to  go  before 
he  could  pass  the  gate." 


SENTRIES   AND   PASSES.  147 

"  Stanton  and  Seward  both  !" 

"  That  isn't  all,  though  !  Seward  got  away  with- 
out being  prodded,  but  a  few  minutes  later  along 
came  old  Ben  Butler,  as  large  as  life,  and  he  was 
swinging  right  in.  '  Halt!  You  put  out  dot  cigar  !' 
shouts  Germany,  and  Ben  halted.  '  Are  those  your 
orders  ?'  he  asked.  '  Dose  is  my  orters  !  Put  out 
dot  cigar!'  'Orders  are  orders,'  said  Ben,  as  he 
threw  his  cigar  over  the  fence,  '  and  they  must  be 
obeyed.  There  it  goes.'  You'd  ought  to  have  seen 
it  and  heard  it !" 

The  cavalryman  makes  his  account  as  vivid  as  he 
can,  and  then  he  wheels  laughingly  back  to  his  post; 
but  the  joke  is  a  little  too  good  to  keep,  and  Mr.  Lin- 
coln is  at  work  in  his  room.  Perhaps  he  never  did 
laugh  harder. 

"  Seward  !  And  Stanton  !  And  old  Ben  !  Well, 
well  !  I  reckon  I'd  better  send  for  the  officer  on 
duty  and  tell  him  to  let  up  a  little.  The  orders 
against  smoking  don't  include  this  part  of  the  camp." 

There  is  nothing  more  severe  than  a  bit  of  good- 
humored  sarcasm  in  the  admonition  given  to  the 
officer,  and  orders  of  a  general  nature  will  go  out 
to-morrow  that  will  allow  posted  men  to  discriminate 
among  buildings.  Perhaps  no  three  men  could  have 
been  picked  out  who  would  have  made  the  over- 
strictness  more  grotesque.  As  for  Ben  Butler,  he 
is  a  kind  of  favorite  with  the  President,  but  he  may 
never  again  wear  quite  so  much  uniform  as  he  did 
when  he  paid  his  first  formal  visit  of  military  cere- 
mony. He  was  then  in  command  of  Massachusetts 
militia,  and  he  wore  a  militia  parade  uniform — cock- 


148     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

ed  hat,  scythe  sword,  boots  and  all.  He  looked  very 
large  when  he  swept  across  the  hall  to  the  door  of 
the  President's  room,  and  he  was  a  peculiarly  wel- 
come arrival.  As  for  Seward,  the  cavalryman  was 
right  about  his  smoking,  and  he  is  even  reckless 
about  matters  of  uniform,  except  upon  State  occa- 
sions. He  went  into  the  President's  room  the  other 
day  with  the  knot  of  his  cravat  nearly  under  his  left 
ear,  and  carrying  an  unlighted  cigar  in  his  hand; 
but  then  he  carried  in  the  other  hand  highly  impor- 
tant dispatches  relating  to  the  attitude  of  France 
and  England.  The  other  Cabinet  officers  are  some- 
what particular,  as  a  rule;  but  the  President's  ward- 
robe always  requires  the  watchful  supervision  of  Mrs. 
Lincoln.  He  simply  will  not  pay  special  attention 
to  his  personal  appearance,  and  he  cares  very  little 
how  other  men  dress. 

Spring  often  turns  rapidly  into  something  like 
midsummer  in  this  latitude.  Weather  such  as  this 
must  be  felt  severely  by  men  who  have  long  marches 
to  make,  such  as  have  recently  been  performed  by 
some  of  our  fellows  away  out  West.  The  Army  of 
the  Potomac  is  not  being  forced  to  wear  itself  out 
in  marching  just  now;  but  then  the  sun  is  bringing 
out  in  full  force  the  pestilential  vapors  of  all  the 
marshes  around  its  camps.  It  is  said  that  no  army 
ever  had  better  camp  regulations,  or  better  supplies, 
but  there  is  a  great  deal  of  murmuring.  The  Pres- 
ident himself  is  murmuring,  mainly  because  of  so 
much  camp  and  so  little  marching;  and  he  has  gone 
down  the  river  on  a  steamer  to  see  the  other  gen- 
eral, and  to  talk  with  him  about  the  capture  of  Rich- 


SENTRIES   AND   PASSES.  I49 

mond.  That  is  a  result  which  ought  to  be  very  near 
just  now,  unless  the  costly  war  is  to  be  dragged  out 
year  after  year. 

It  is  very  warm,  this  Sunday  morning,  if  it  is  Sun- 
day. It  must  be,  for  all  the  larger  business  places 
on  the  avenue  were  closed  when  we  came  by. 
There  were  no  flags  floating  upon  the  wings  of  the 
Capitol,  and  so  Congress  is  not  sitting  to-day.  The 
calendar  on  the  mantel  in  the  northeast  room  says 
that  it  is  Sunday,  but  somehow  there  is  less  and  less 
of  a  religious  or  sacred  idea  connecting  itself  with 
that  seventh  part  of  our  weekly  time.  The  mail  has 
been  brought  in — nearly  a  bushel  of  it — a  larger 
mail  than  common,  and  it  will  not  do  to  let  it  lie 
there  until  another  bushel  shall  be  landed  on  top  of 
it  to-morrow  morning. 

"  Can  it  be  finished  in  time  for  church  ?  It  is  yet 
very  early,  and  it  might  be  done  ?  " 

No,  there  is  too  much  of  it,  and,  besides,  you  have 
half  lost  the  old  habit  of  attending  church  on  Sun- 
day. So  much  the  worse  for  you  and  for  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  others,  to  whom,  as  to  all  the  occu- 
pants of  the  White  House,  the  war  has  come  to 
break  up  or  to  break  down  all  their  accustomed 
ways  of  living  and  of  thinking.  Everything  has  to 
give  up  to  a  fever  and  its  deliriums.  Even  human 
life  itself  does  not  seem  to  have  the  sacredness  it 
once  had,  while  you  habitually  count  men  as  food 
for  powder,  and  expect,  hourly,  to  hear  how  many 
more  of  them  have  been  expended. 

It  is  very  warm,  and  all  the  windows  that  are  open 
seem  to  let  in  heat  instead  of  coolness.     There  is 


150    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

very  little  valuable  matter  in  this  heap  of  penwork 
when  you  tear  open  its  envelopes  and  sift  it  out.  It 
is  worth  while,  nevertheless,  to  note  that  fully  half 
of  the  epistles  which  of  necessity  go  into  the  waste- 
basket,  are  patriotic  denunciations  of  General  Mc- 
Clellan  for  lack  of  vigor,  and  of  the  President  for 
not  driving  him  forward.  It  is  almost  a  pity  that  he 
cannot  read  them  to  the  general.  He  has  entire 
confidence  in  McClellan's  ability  and  in  his  patriot- 
ism, but  these  angry  letter-writers  hold  different 
views.  They  aver  that  the  general  is  a  traitor,  in 
league  with  Jefferson  Davis,  that  he  is  an  Arnold  in 
heart,  and  that  he  will  sacrifice  the  army  to  his 
ambition,  by  seeming  to  fight  and  yet  not  fighting, 
or  even  by  worse  military  misconduct.  They  are  as 
unjust  to  him  as  they  and  others  are  to  Mr.  Lincoln, 
and  they  express  themselves  with  furious  vehemence. 
On  the  whole,  it  is  not  unpleasant  reading,  for  here, 
at  the  national  headquarters,  there  is  a  strong  anti- 
McClellan  feeling,  and  with  it  something  of  the 
other  feeling  voiced  in  these  letters,  that  the  Presi- 
dent is  too  confiding,  too  conciliatory,  too  indulgent, 
too  much  disposed  to  almost  make  a  pet  of  his  bril- 
liant army  leader.  It  is  a  piece  of  ignorant  house- 
hold presumption,  but  it  breaks  out  frequently, 
when  there  are  no  outsiders  around. 

There  are  no  outsiders  here  to-day,  nor  are  there 
any  insiders,  apparently. 

Now  that  the  mail  is  finished,  we  can  get  up  and 
walk  around  and  see  what  this  summery  silence 
means.  Every  door  upon  this  floor  seems  to  be  wide 
open,  as  if  to  let  the  lazy,  heated  air  drift  through; 


SENTRIES   AND    PASSES.  1 5  I 

but  not  a  living  soul  is  to  be  found  in  any  room. 
We  are  all  alone  upon  this  floor  of  the  White  House, 
and  the  headquarters  of  the  Commander-in-Chief  are 
about  the  most  peaceful  piece  of  silence  that  could 
be  found.  It  is  the  general's  tent,  but  now  that  he 
is  gone  there  is  no  sight  nor  sound  of  war.  Even 
the  brace  of  swords  leaning  against  the  mail-table 
are  sheathed,  and  wear  a  sleepy  look. 

The  President's  own  room  is  just  as  he  left  it,  and 
there  is  a  map  lying  outspread  upon  his  desk.  Look 
at  it.  There  is  one  pin  at  Fortress  Monroe,  and  an- 
other at  Williamsburg.  Pin,  too,  at  Yorktown,  and 
he  has  stuck  several  in,  along  the  James,  all  the  way 
to  Richmond.  He  has  been  studying  that  map,  or 
somebody  else  has,  for  there  are  blue  pencil  marks 
dotting  another  line,  between  Washington  and  Rich- 
mond. It  may  or  may  not  be  what  is  called  ' '  the  Ma- 
nassas line,"  although  that  position  is  marked  and  in- 
cluded, but  it  is  a  route  which  General  McClellan  will 
not  travel.  A  new  army  driver,  named  Grant,  will 
one  day  get  hold  of  the  reins,  and  you  will  watch 
the  road  he  takes  and  will  be  strongly  reminded  of 
those  blue  pencil  marks,  only  that  they  will  seem  to 
turn  red — as  red  as  blood. 

There  are  many  books  in  the  Executive  business 
office  nowadays.  They  come  and  they  go  from  this 
place  and  that.  They  litter  the  tables  and  they  lean 
against  the  walls,  and  they  look  out  from  under  the 
sofa,  as  if  they  were  asking  if  their  turn  for  consulta- 
tion had  come.  Nobody  knows  when  the  President 
finds  time  for  reading,  but  he  does  find  it,  somehow, 
between  times  and  between  days,  and  he  will  short- 


152     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

\y  be  able  to  write  to  General  McClellan  that  he 
gave  a  certain  order,  under  discussion  between  them, 
"  on  the  unanimous  opinion  of  every  military  man  I 
could  get  an  opinion  from,  and  every  modern  mili- 
tary book — yourself  alone  excepted." 

That  is  to  be  the  result  of  all  this  litter  and  this 
patient  study;  but  even  now  he  finds  a  need  for  a 
more  condensed  and  convenient  military  library,  bet- 
ter arranged  for  reference.  He  has  found  such  an 
epitome  of  war  science  in  the  luminous  brain  of  one 
of  his  Western  generals,  and  has  sent  for  him.  Gen- 
eral Henry  Wager  Halleck  is  to  be  made  nomi- 
nally General-in-Chief  of  the  Armies  of  the  United 
States,  but  he  is  really  to  supplant  all  these  volumes 
and  many  maps,  and  to  act  as  the  scientific  military 
counselor  of  the  Commander-in-Chief.  He  will  be- 
come the  President's  Chief  of  Staff,  and  will  act  as  a 
buffer  between  him  and  the  other  generals  in  the 
field.  He  will,  therefore,  be  as  popular  among  them 
and  elsewhere  as  is  the  Secretary  of  War  himself. 
He  and  Stanton  and  Lincoln  will  be  charged  with 
the  reverses,  and  the  heroes  in  front  will  get  the 
credit  of  all  the  successes.  That  is  the  process 
which  has  been  going  on  from  the  beginning,  and  it 
will  require  long  time  and  much  research,  with  the 
help  of  many  tremendous  events,  to  justly  balance 
the  great  account.  Look  out  southward  from  the 
window  of  Lincoln's  room,  from  his  own  window,  by 
his  chair,  just  as  he  looks  daily,  while  he  ponders 
questions  relating  to  the  land  and  the  people  be- 
yond the  Potomac.  Even  in  these  days,  as  he  sits 
here,  he  is  pondering  a  paper  stronger  than  an  army 


SENTRIES   AND   PASSES.  1 53 

with  banners,  which  he  will  send  across  the  river  in 
the  early  fall.  A  first  draft  of  it  is  lying  now  in  one 
of  the  drawers  of  this  writing-desk,  but  no  other  liv- 
ing soul  is  aware  of  it,  for  there  is  nobody  living, 
with  any  right  or  power  to  enter  this  room,  who 
would  presume  to  meddle  with  anything  guarded  by 
the  frail  wood  of  this  unguarded  piece  of  furniture. 

There  are  children  strolling  around  under  the 
trees  and  over  the  grass  of  the  White  House  grounds. 
The  flowers  are  doing  uncommonly  well  this  season. 
The  grass  of  the  lawn  is  newly  shaven  and  is  softly 
green.  So  very  peaceful  it  all  is  !  and  we  turn  away 
from  the  window  to  the  war  maps  as  if  they  must 
belong  to  some  feverish  unreality,  some  dream  of  a 
disordered  mind,  soon  to  pass  away  and  leave  only 
peace  behind  it.  Nevertheless,  as  we  turn  away  and 
pass  out  of  the  President's  room,  and  call  to  mind 
where  he  is  and  what  he  is  doing,  the  oppressive, 
magical  glamour  of  the  place  and  of  the  time  loads 
more  heavily  than  ever  every  breath  you  draw  of 
this  dense,  frontier-post  atmosphere. 

Tar,  turpentine,  resin,  pitch,  pine,  cotton — these 
were  the  staples  of  the  old  North  State,  and  our 
navy  is  in  great  need  of  them,  and  its  harbors 
are  of  vast  importance  to  the  Confederacy;  and 
Burnside  has  captured  the  sand-bars  and  Albemarle 
Sound,  and  the  other  sounds,  and  a  long  strip  of 
coast,  forest  and  swamp  and  sand-hills,  north  and 
south  of  New  Berne.  It  is  one  of  the  bright,  blue 
bits  of  successful  sky  to  be  seen  peeping  through 
the  clouds  that  hang  over  the  national  cause. 


154     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

Would  you  like  to  see  North  Carolina,  and  get  a 
breath  of  sea-air,  and  a  smell  of  the  piney  woods? 

Yes,  after  so  many  long  months  of  close  confine- 
ment, day  and  night;  and  we  will  go  over  and  tell 
the  President,  and  we  will  tell  him  we  will  not  be 
gone  long. 

"  Well,  yes;  I'd  like  to  have  you  run  down  to  North 
Carolina.  See  Burnside,  and  come  back  and  tell  me 
how  it  looks.  I'll  write  a  letter  for  you  to  take  to 
him,  and  some  passes  and  orders  for  transportation. 
Stanton  will  give  you  whatever  else  is  necessary, 
and  so  will  Welles.  I  reckon  I  wouldn't  carry  much 
baggage,  if  I  were  you." 

That  really  seems  to  be  good  advice,  and  your 
outfit  consists  mainly  of  a  bright,  span  new  suit  of  a 
new  kind  of  military  blue  flannel,  put  on  the  day  you 
leave  Washington. 

There  are  barriers  in  the  path  of  every  undertak- 
ing, and  the  first  obstacle  looms  up  in  the  office  of 
the  New  York  quartermaster  in  charge  of  coast- 
wise transportation. 

There  never  was  a  larger  major,  for  his  size,  with 
more  uniform  and  straps  and  swell  and  importance. 
When  you  quietly  and  respectfully  enter  his  office, 
he  is  intensely  occupied  with  his  morning  news- 
paper. 

"  May  I  ask  when  the  next  steamer  leaves  for  New 
Berne  ?" 

"No,  sir.  There  is  no  steamer  going  to  New 
Berne." 

"  But  I  really  must  go.  When  is  there  a  steamer 
to  sail  ?" 


SENTRIES   AND   PASSES.  155 

One  not  accustomed  to  meeting  great  men  can- 
not help  feeling  humble  in  the  presence  of  military- 
power,  combined  with  some  that  is  naval. 

"You  can't  go!  There  have  been  too  many 
(epithet)  civilians  permitted  to  travel  on  Govern- 
ment vessels.  There's  no  more  to  be  said,  sir.  Get 
out !    I  can't  be  bothered  with  any  more  applications." 

"I  think  you  will  read  that,  sir.  Tell  me,  in- 
stantly, when  the  next  steamer  sails  for  New  Berne  ! 
Read  it  !" 

Down  comes  the  newspaper.  Down  comes  an 
astonished  pair  of  feet  from  the  chair  they  rested 
upon.  Down  falls  a  long  cigar  from  the  now  wide- 
open  mouth  which  had  held  it. 

"What?"  and  that  word  contains  a  fair  steamer- 
load  of  utter  amazement.  Insolence  to  an  army 
officer  ?  From  a  civilian  ?  Insubordination  from  a 
quiet,  subdued-voiced  party,  with  neither  straps  nor 
spurs  nor  sword  nor  feathers  ?  But  he  reads  auto- 
matically : 

"  Officers  of  the  army  and  navy  are  commanded 
to  furnish  transportation "  .  .  .  .  (epithet,  four  or 
five  of  them). 

"  Edwin  M.  Stanton, 

"Secretary  of  War." 

You  next  hear  only  a  confused   mixture  of  sylla- 
bles of  various  kinds,  ending  with  the  audible  words: 
"Welles, 

"  Secretary  of  the  Navy." 

There  is  now  a  major,  quartermaster,  commissa- 
ry, or  what  not,  on  his  feet,  reading  another  paper, 
and  gurgling  something  or  other,  out  of  which  you 


156    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

pick  the  words  "  officers,"  "  army,"  "  navy,"  "  com- 
manded," "  my  private  secretary  "  (epithet,  heavy- 
laden), "Lincoln,"  and  a  ghastly  gush  of  long-winded 
astonishment  that  resembles  "  Presidential  States." 

Absolutely,  the  White  House  has  fallen  upon  that 
man,  and  it  has  all  but  killed  him.  So  have  the  War 
Office  and  the  Navy  Department,  and  he  crawls  out 
of  his  ruins  to  gasp: 

"There's  a  steamer  going  this  afternoon.  No 
other  passengers.  Give  you  a  cabin  state-room  to 
yourself.  I'll  send  an  orderly  to  the  captain  right 
away.  Took  you  for  a  civilian.  Have  a  cigar  ?" — 
and  there  seems  to  be  a  sudden  rush  of  determina- 
tion to  do  all  the  duty  called  for  by  such  a  heap  of 
— well,  of  official  ruins. 

It  seems  to  be  so:  the  White  House  can  travel  on 
a  card,  by  sea  and  land,  going  and  coming,  but  the 
North  Carolina  trip  contains  no  more  pleasant  pict- 
ure than  that  of  bright-faced,  hearty,  hospitable 
General  Burnside,  receiving  you  in  a  loose  white 
flannel  suit,  a  shilling  straw  hat,  slippers,  and  no 
visible  sign  of  major-generalship.  You  like  him, 
but  you  do  not  like  your  own  blue  flannel  so  well  as 
you  did.  A  storm  off  Hatteras;  a  drenching  night 
in  a  bivouac;  another  drench;  much  rain  of  a  smaller 
kind;  much  sunshine  as  you  go  from  camp  to  camp 
and  see  all  there  is  to  be  seen;  and  all  the  while,  as 
your  stock  of  information  enlarges,  your  blue  flannel 
shrinks,  your  Panama  curls  both  ways,  your  skin 
tans  and  burns  and  peels,  and  you  get  back  to  Wash- 
ington once  more,  ready  for  a  change  of  raiment 
before  returning  to  the  desk  in  the  northeast  room. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A    BATTLE    SUMMER. 

/GEORGETOWN  is  a  kind  of  western  suburb  of 
^  the  Capital.  It  is  the  sleepiest  old  village  to 
be  found,  and  when  the  war  broke  out  it  was  dying 
of  respectability.  Since  then  it  has  been  in  a  semi- 
comatose state,  but  it  may  revive  some  day.  No 
other  streets  are  paved  with  such  cobble  stones. 
Every  third  stone  is  as  large  as  a  peck  measure, 
with  two-quart  measures  between,  and  it  is  an  awful 
pavement  to  drive  over,  but  it  is  worse  to  camp  on. 
When  you  once  lay  down  upon  it,  beside  your  rifle, 
those  larger  cobble-stones  v/ere  a  trial.  Whatever 
led  us  to  make  so  long  an  early  morning  stroll  all 
over  Georgetown,  we  are  back  again,  and  as  short 
a  way  as  any  to  get  into  the  White  House  grounds 
from  the  avenue  is  the  walk  that  runs  midway  be- 
tween the  War  and  Navy  buildings  toward  the  nar- 
row gate  near  the  conservatory.  It  is  a  warm  morn- 
ing. It  was  very  warm  in  Georgetown,  and  all  the 
way  back,  but  the  heat  increases  as  you  approach 
the  White  House.  The  air  is  denser,  and  the  sun 
strikes  down  through  it  with  peculiar  power.  It  is 
telling  upon  Mr.  Lincoln,  this  August  weather,  and 
there  he  is  now,  just  beyond  the  gate,  with  his  high 
silk  hat  in  his  hand,  mopping  his  forehead  with  his 
pocket-handkerchief.  He  has  been  stopped  by  some- 

157 


158    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

body  on  his  way  back  from  the  War  Office.  She  is 
an  uncommonly  black  black  woman !  she  is,  and 
she  stands  right  in  his  path,  looking  up  into  his  face. 
She  is  not  in  a  starved  condition,  by  any  means. 
She  might  weigh  three  hundred,  and  every  pound  of 
her  is  aware  that  she  is  looking  into  the  face  of  the 
greatest  man  in  the  world.  Perhaps  she  was  never 
before  sure  that  Abraham  Lincoln  was  a  reality,  a 
human  being — that  is,  apparently  human,  but  he  is 
now  holding  out  a  hand  to  her,  and  he  is  actually 
laughing.  So  is  she,  but  she  has  not  uttered  a  word. 
Her  eyes  roll  wonderfully,  and  her  smile  is  all  over 
her  face,  and  it  takes  elsewhere  the  semblance  of  an 
embodied  chuckle;  but  all  the  words  she  ever  knew 
have  gone  a  wool-gathering. 

"You  look  happy.     Reckon  you  must  be." 

Gurgle — chuckle — all  over  the  big  black  woman, 
as  her  hand  timidly  meets  his,  but  he  does  the  shak- 
ing and  lets  go,  and  she  turns  away  without  an  ar- 
ticulate syllable,  and  so  almost  bursting  with  pride 
and  delight  that  she  stuffs  the  corners  of  her  check 
apron  into  her  mouth. 

He  does  not  have  to  hold  out  a  hand  to  the  fellow- 
citizen  who  was  waiting  just  behind  her,  but  the 
brawny,  long-limbed  volunteer  is  at  first  as  silent  as 
she  was.  He  does  not  chuckle,  but  his  arm  and 
hand  go  out,  straight,  stiff,  as  if  he  means  to  run  the 
President  right  through. 

"  I'm  from  Indianny  !" 

"So  am  I,"  replied  Mr.  Lincoln.  "  I  almost  wish 
I  was  back  there  again." 

"  That's  jest  what  I  was  a-wishin'  myself,  but  in- 


A    BATTLE    SUMMER.  1 59 

stid  of  that  I've  got  to  go  back  to  camp.  Aint  they 
a  workin'  of  ye  pretty  hard,  Mr.  Lincoln  ?" 

"  I  reckon  they  are." 

"  Well,  now,  some  of  us  boys  was  a-sayin'  so. 
You'd  better  take  right  smart  good  keer  of  yerself. 
There  isn't  anybody  else,  lyin'  round  loose,  that'd 
fit  into  your  boots  jest  now." 

The  handshaking  he  gets  is  very  hearty,  but  his 
only  other  answer  is  a  long,  silent,  very  singular  kind 
of  a  laugh.  It  is  a  morning  when  the  President 
needs  a  laugh  as  much  as  he  needs  anything  else  in 
the  wide  world,  except  news  of  a  crashing  victory 
somewhere  along  the  line. 

The  Peninsular  campaign  is  ended.  General  Pope 
and  the  Army  of  Virginia  have  received  and  have 
apparently  absorbed  the  returning  sections  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  a  sharp,  terrible  summer 
campaign  is  going  forward.  Pope  is  a  good  officer; 
able,  brave,  enterprising,  patriotic;  but  he  has  had 
upon  his  hands  a  great  task  to  perform,  under  cir- 
cumstances which  will  be  matters  of  research  and 
inquiry  and  bitter  discussion  through  many  a  long 
year  to  come. 

It  is  really  the  heat  of  the  campaign  which  makes 
the  furnace  air  of  the  White  House  so  all  but  insup- 
portable this  morning  after  Lincoln  goes  into  his 
room,  and  Louis,  the  messenger,  is  informed  that  he 
does  not  wish  to  see  anybody.  Mr.  Nicolay  will 
know  to  whom,  if  anybody,  that  order  of  exclusion 
does  not  apply.  Of  course  Halleck  is  omitted,  for 
there  he  goes  into  and  across  the  hall,  in  evident 
haste,  with  a  yellow  telegram  open  in  his  hand,  and 


l6o    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

he  does  not  wait  for  any  doorkeeper.  He  has  the 
air  of  a  man  who  has  been  hit  hard  by  something  or 
other. 

Everybody  knows  that  the  Second  Battle  of  Bull 
Run  has  been  fought,  and  that  it  has  gone  against 
us,  although  General  Pope  is  as  confident  as  ever. 
He  has  done  well,  and  so  has  the  army,  but  the  re- 
ports going  out  to  the  country  are  black  with  the 
smoke  of  a  lost  battle.  He  says  that  the  troops  un- 
der his  command  are  in  good  spirits  and  in  good  con- 
dition, ready  for  further  work,  but  a  host  of  tongues 
and  pens  are  busy  with  the  assertion  that  the  officers 
and  men  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  half-way  re- 
fuse to  serve  under  any  other  commander  than  Mc- 
Clellan,  under  whom,  by  the  way,  only  a  part  of 
Pope's  present  army  ever  did  serve.  Of  course,  it  is 
a  false  imputation  upon  the  soldiers  and  their  lead- 
ers; but  the  fact  that  it  is  made  is  full  of  evil  omen, 
especially  on  the  heels  of  this  severe  check  to  our 
arms. 

General  McClellan  has  not  been  removed,  yet  he 
is  not  in  command,  and  it  is  not  easy  to  say  where 
or  what  he  is,  as  a  general,  but  he  is  here  in  Wash- 
ington, at  his  own  house,  as  a  physical  fact. 

It  is  very,  very  warm,  and  Halleck  comes  out  of 
the  President's  room  wiping  his  broad,  intellectual 
forehead  and  studying  the  floor,  as  he  walks,  as  if  he 
were  searching  among  the  carpet  patterns  for  the 
plan  of  a  successful  campaign. 

"  Bill,  I  want  to  see  the  President  !" 

You  look  up  from  the  letters  with  a  start  and  a 
shiver  of  astonishment,  for  there,  at  the  end  of  the 


A   BATTLE   SUMMER.  l6l 

table,  sounds  the  voice  of  one  of  the  very  few  men 
who  remember  a  time  when  the  other  boys  used  to 
call  you  Bill.  The  face  you  would  not  recognize, 
for  perspiration  has  been  wiped  from  it  by  hands 
which  had  been  helping  wounded  soldiers.  Black, 
red,  mud-color,  under  a  broken  straw  hat,  and  then 
the  condition  of  that  once  nobby  suit  of  clothing! 
He  is  a  scarecrow  from  the  battle-field  of  Bull  Run, 
and  he  insists  upon  seeing  the  President.  He  has 
been  sitting,  by  special  request,  in  the  tent  of  a 
corps  commander,  an  old  friend,  while  other  corps 
and  division  and  brigade  commanders  were  induced 
to  utter  frankly  and  fully  their  military  views  of  the 
situation,  and  then  he  has  been  requested  to  hasten 
to  the  White  House,  and  to  repeat  to  Mr.  Lincoln 
what  he  had  heard,  for  he  is  a  civilian  and  not  re- 
stricted by  army  regulations.  Swift  transportation 
was  furnished  him,  including  a  horse  from  a  disabled 
ammunition  wagon  and  an  Alexandria  quartermas- 
ter's steamer,  and  here  he  is,  refusing  to  give  partic- 
ulars to  anybody  but  the  one  man  who  should  know 
them.  In  a  moment  more  the  scarecrow  is  alone 
with  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  it  is  an  apparent  age  before 
the  bell  up  there  jangles  a  summons. 

The  President  writes  upon  a  card  and  hands  it  to 
you: 

"  Take  him  to  Stanton  and  then  to  Halleck.  They 
must  see  him  at  once,"  and  as  you  lead  the  scare- 
crow out  of  the  room  he  remarks: 

"Then  I  want  to  go  and  get  something  to  eat, 
and  take  a  bath,  and  change  my  clothes.  I've  had 
the  worst  kind  of  time." 


162     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

He  is  willing-  to  relate  battle-field  experiences  as 
he  goes  along,  but  his  mouth  is  closed  by  his  orig- 
inal trust  and  by  Lincoln's  orders  as  to  anything  he 
heard  in  the  tent  of  the  corps  commander.  He  is 
closeted  quickly  with  Stanton,  and  then  the  Secre- 
tary himself  comes  out  with  him  and  they  cross  the 
hall  of  the  War  Office  together  to  Halleck's  room, 
and  you  have  to  wait  a  long  time  before  they  come 
out,  and  then  Stanton  and  Halleck  walk  over  to  the 
White  House,  while  the  scarecrow  goes  away  to  eat 
and  bathe  and  sleep.  It  seems  as  if  the  weather 
grew  all  the  while  warmer,  but  when,  not  a  great 
many  hours  later,  you  learn  that  General  McClellan 
is  once  more  in  command,  you  cannot  help  wonder- 
ing if  the  change  has  anything  to  do  with  the  verbal 
44  round  robin  "  transmitted  to  the  President  from 
that  informal  council  of  war,  through  the  scarecrow. 

The  army  will  fight  well  under  McClellan  ?  Of 
course  they  will.  They  fight  well  enough  all  the 
while. 

Why,  then,  do  they  get  beaten? 

Well,  the  Confederates  also  fight  very  well,  and 
they  get  beaten  now  and  then.  The  Greeks  and 
Romans  got  beaten,  and  so  has  every  other  nation, 
and  all  the  great  generals  have  been  beaten,  and 
some  things  must  be  endured  until  the  tide  turns. 

There  is  one  tide,  however,  which  never  turns, 
and  that  is  the  tide  of  criticism  and  advice  which 
sets  toward  and  into  the  White  House.  Here  is  a 
fine  wave  of  it  this  morning,  sitting  in  solemn  dignity 
at  the  end  of  the  table,  waiting  for  Louis  to  come 
and  tell  him  that  the  President  is  waiting  to  see  him. 


A   BATTLE   SUMMER.  I63 

There  is  no  doubt  but  that  he  is  an  eminent  theo- 
logian, and  he  is  even  now  heavily  burdened  with  a 
religious  duty.  So  heavy  is  his  load  that  he  is  will- 
ing to  land  a  part  of  it  right  here,  or  at  least  to  get 
it  into  order  for  delivery  at  the  President's  desk. 
He  is  a  delegate,  a  representative  of  a  conclave  of 
eminent  religious  men,  and  they  are  doctrinally  the 
soundest  knot  of  patriotic  pieties  to  be  found  any- 
where. 

He  comes  right  out  with  it.  Too  many  battles 
have  been  fought  on  Sunday,  and  the  feelings  of  all 
good  people  have  been  terribly  outraged  thereby. 
The  President  is  to  be  appealed  to,  and  the  perni- 
cious habit  into  which  the  armies  are  falling  must  be 
corrected  unless  the  war  is  to  be  a  failure.  He  is  a 
good  man,  and  he  is  eloquent,  and  he  has  no  doubt 
of  the  effect  he  is  to  produce  upon  the  President,  but 
he  can  lose  his  temper. 

"  Do  you  not  really  see,  sir,  where  the  bottom 
drops  out  of  your  argument  ?  " 

Doctors  of  divinity  are  accustomed  to  have  more 
respect  than  that  paid  to  their  arguments,  especially 
from  very  young  men,  and  the  reply  you  get  is  a 
severe  commentary  upon  your  own  moral  condition 
and  religious  needs,  but  you  are  not  at  once  con- 
verted. 

"Do  you  not  think  you  are  in  the  wrong  office, 
doctor  ?  Should  you  not  rather  be  appealing  to  Mr. 
Davis  and  General  Lee  and  General  Jackson,  and 
the  rest  of  those  fellows  ?  All  the  attacking,  recent- 
ly, has  come  from  them.  We  haven't  attacked  any- 
body, on    Sunday  or  any  other  day.     They  are  a 


164    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

Sabbath-breaking,  unruly,  mischievous  lot  of  irre- 
ligious ruffians,  and  they  do  not  give  our  boys  time 
to  go  to  church." 

"  H'm  !  I'll  see  what  Mr.  Lincoln  will  say  about 
it."  But  then  the  doctor  of  divinity  has  melted  a 
little  and  can  all  but  smile,  for  he  is  a  man  who  has 
talked  a  great  deal  of  "  on  to  Richmond  "  in  his  day, 
and  the  pin  pricked  him. 

Curiously  enough,  while  the  President  is  willing 
to  issue  special  orders  relating  to  Sunday  quiet  in 
camp,  and  as  to  profane  swearing  in  the  army, 
almost  his  first  response  to  the  doctor  is : 

"  I  think  you  had  better  consult  the  Confederate 
commanders  a  little." 

It  is  not  true  that  Sunday  has  entirely  disappeared 
from  the  White  House.  It  still  returns  with  a  faint 
suggestion  that  it  was  meant  to  be  a  day  of  rest. 
This  part  of  the  house  grows  even  peaceful  while 
the  few  bells  left  in  Washington  are  supposed  to  ring 
for  church.  They  are  not  allowed  to  actually  ring 
nowadays,  for  all  of  them  are  too  near  some  hospital 
or  other,  or,  at  all  events,  there  is  peril  that  waves 
of  sound  might  carry  too  painful  a  vibration  to  the 
sensitive  nerves  of  some  sick  or  wounded  soldier. 
The  whole  city  is  more  or  less  a  hospital,  and  there 
is  no  real  need  of  bells.  Sitting  here,  some  Sunday 
mornings,  you  think  you  can  hear  them,  but  you  are 
really  listening  to  the  village  church  bells  of  long 
ago,  away  up  North,  because  you  know  that  at  this 
hour  they  are  sounding  across  the  greens  and  along 
the  grassy  streets,  summoning  the  people  to  come 


A    BATTLE    SUMMER.  165 

to  the  meeting-houses,  and  think  of  and  pray  for  the 
village  boy j  camped  around  here  and  elsewhere,  or 
the  other  village  boys  over  whom  the  grass  of  this 
horrible  summer  is  already  beginning  to  grow. 

Can  there  be  anything  hysterical  in  the  absolute 
need  that  there  now  and  then  seems  to  be  for  some- 
thing like  fun  ?  Mr.  Lincoln  says  that  he  must  laugh 
sometimes,  or  he  would  surely  die.  He  laughed 
right  here,  a  few  Sundays  ago.  The  letters  were 
about  done,  when  in  came  John  Hay,  all  one  bubble. 
He  is  sober  enough  most  of  the  time,  but  he  had 
heard  something  funny,  and  he  was  good-natured 
about  dividing  it.  Generally  he  can  tell  a  story  bet- 
ter than  most  boys  of  his  age,  but  he  broke  down  on 
that  one  before  he  got  well  into  it.  The  door  was 
open  and  so  was  Nicolay's,  and  he  heard  the  peal  of 
laughter  when  the  story  proved  too  much  for  its  nar- 
rator, and  over  he  came,  with  a  pen  in  one  hand  and 
a  long  paper  in  the  other,  and  he  sat  right  dc  wn  to 
listen.  Hay  began  at  the  beginning,  and  went  on 
very  well  until  the  first  good  point  was  reached.  It 
was  nothing  so  wonderful  for  another  time  than  this, 
but  it  was  a  first-class  excuse  for  a  laugh,  and  all 
three  of  us  exploded  as  one. 

The  whole  floor  had  been  as  silent  as  a  graveyard 
or  a  hospital,  until  this  uproar  broke  up  its  Sunday 
stillness,  and  we  did  not  know,  or  had  forgotten,  that 
anybody  else  was  within  hearing,  until: 

"  Now,  John,  just  tell  that  thing  again." 

His  feet  had  made  no  sound  in  coming  over  from 
his  room,  or  our  own  racket  had  drowned  any  foot- 
fall, but  here  was  the  President,  and  down  he  sank 


166    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

into  Andrew  Jackson's  chair,  facing  the  table,  with 
Nicolay  seated  by  him,  and  Ha)'  still  standing  by 
the  mantel. 

The  story  was  as  fresh,  and  was  even  better  told 
that  third  time  up  to  its  first  explosive  place,  but 
right  there  a  quartette  explosion  went  off.  Down 
came  the  President's  foot  from  across  his  knee,  with 
a  heavy  stamp  on  the  floor,  and  out  through  the  hall 
went  an  uproarious  peal  of  fun.  It  was  dying  away, 
and  Hay  was  about  to  go  ahead,  when: 

"  Mr.  President,  if  you  please,  sir,  Mr.  Stanton  is 
in  your  room." 

There  stood  Old  Edward  in  the  doorway,  washing 
his  hands  and  looking  penitent,  as  if  he  hated  to 
break  in  upon  the  apparently  untimely,  if  not  un- 
seemly merriment.  Senator  Trumbull,  of  Illinois,  is 
also  out  there,  on  some  special  errand  or  other. 

There  was  something  all  but  ghastly  in  the  man- 
ner of  the  death  of  that  story.  Through  all  the  sunny, 
laughter-filled  chambers  of  the  Executive  office 
poured  thick  and  fast  the  gloom  and  glamour  of  the 
death  in  life  that  belonged  to  them.  The  shadow 
came  back  to  Lincoln's  face,  and  he  arose,  slowly, 
painfully,  like  a  man  lifting  some  enormous  burden. 
He  even  seemed  to  stagger  as  he  walked  out,  for 
not  only  are  each  day's  burdens  heavy,  but  the  worst 
news  of  the  war  has  thus  far  been  its  Sunday  news, 
and  such  as  brings  over  Stanton  in  person. 

What  was  the  point  of  the  story — the  thing  so 
irresistibly  funny  ? 

Nobody  can  tell  now.  I  don't  remember  anything 
about  it  that  seems  funny. 


A    BATTLE   SUMMER.  167 

But  the  rest  of  it,  that  Hay  told  after  the  Pres- 
ident went  away  ? 

He  did  not  tell  any  more.  There  was  no  more 
laugh  nor  story  in  him,  and  he  and  Nicolay  went 
over  to  their  room.  Sunday  will  come  back  again, 
some  time,  but  the  record  of  this  war  tallies  curiously 
with  the  record  of  other  wars.  Even  Waterloo  was 
fought  on  Sunday. 

Weeks  pass  rapidly  in  this  White  House  life, 
and  it  is  uncommonly  quiet  to-day,  but  there  is  a 
restless  feeling,  nevertheless,  for  McClellan  has  led 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  up  into  western  Maryland, 
to  meet  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  under  Lee, 
and  there  has  been  a  series  of  terrific  collisions.  Ac- 
cording to  the  tenor  of  the  dispatches,  the  struggle 
shapes  itself  into  a  pair  of  battles,  one  called  the 
Battle  of  South  Mountain,  and  one  called  the  Battle 
of  the  Antietam,  which  are  really  parts  of  one  long 
match  between  the  armies  which  have  so  often  been 
pitted  against  each  other.  Confederate  sympathizers 
here  assert  that  their  side  claims  a  drawn  battle,  if 
not  a  second-rate  victory,  but  it  is  growing  clearer 
that  Lee  is  beaten,  and  that  he  must  give  up  the  re- 
conquest  of  Maryland.  He  will  advance  no  foot 
further  into  the  North,  and  it  is  even  fairly  sure  that 
he  is  already  retreating  into  Virginia. 

More  than  the  great  world  knows  of  has  been  de- 
pending upon  this  news  from  the  army  under  Mc- 
Clellan. All  through  the  hot,  oppressive  days  of 
this  battle  summer,  that  great  state  paper  has  been 
waiting  in  one  of  the  pigeon-holes  of  the  President's 


l68     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

desk.  He  has  taken  it  out  from  time  to  time  to  pon- 
der over  it  and  to  correct  it  here  and  there,  and  to 
long  for  such  a  condition  of  our  military  affairs  as 
will,  in  his  opinion,  make  him  strong  enough  before 
the  people  and  the  world  to  justify  him  in  sending 
it  out  upon  its  tremendous  errand.  Some  weeks  ago, 
the  last  of  July  or  the  first  of  August,  he  called  the 
Cabinet  together  and  read  it  to  them,  but  they  all 
agreed  with  him  that  it  must  wait  for  the  winning  of 
an  important  success.  Mr.  Lincoln  says  that  he  has 
promised  God  that  he  would  issue  that  paper  if  God 
would  give  us  the  victory  over  Lee's  army,  and  now 
all  the  later  dispatches  from  the  Antietam  seem  to 
call  upon  him  to  keep  his  word. 

"  What  is  it,  Mr.  Nicolay  ?" 

"Make  two  copies  of  this  as  soon  as  you  can; 
one  for  the  Senate  and  one  for  the  House.  My 
hands  are  full." 

Here  it  is.  Mr.  Lincoln's  own  hand.  His  draft 
of  the  Proclamation  of  Emancipation.  Read  it  care- 
fully through  before  you  take  up  your  pen,  and  think 
of  what  it  means  to  the  future  of  your  country,  and 
to  the  future  of  the  bondmen  whom  it  liberates.  You 
try  to,  but  you  cannot.  You  are  not  nervous,  but  you 
spoil  a  sheet  or  two  of  paper  in  beginning  your  copy. 
No  wonder,  for  you  cannot  but  think  while  writing. 

It  is  done,  for  it  is  not  so  long  a  job  after  all.  Take 
the  copies  to  Mr.  Nicolay.  Put  the  original  in  your 
safest  desk-drawer.  There  it  will  lie  until  the  day 
when  Hay  comes  to  you  to  ask  for  it.  He  is  going 
to  send  it  to  the  Sanitary  Commission  Fair  at  Chi- 
cago, to  be  there  burned  up  in  the  great  Chicago  fire. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  ECHOES  OF  THE  PROCLAMATION. 

'"THERE  is  a  kind  of  paper  used  as  a  detective  by 
*  the  chemists,  which  will  turn  of  one  color  when 
dipped  in  an  alkali,  and  of  another  when  soaked  with 
an  acid.  There  is  probably  no  kind  of  paper  which 
would  reveal  the  character  of  the  specters  which  are 
making  this  place  populous  this  rainy  morning.  The 
President  has  gone  up  the  river  to  have  a'chat  with 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  He  has  paid  it  several 
visits  heretofore,  in  its  other  camps,  but  never  one 
upon  which  such  mighty  political  and  military  re- 
sults must  surely  hinge.  All  the  possibilities  which 
he  has  gone  to  confront  or  prepare  for  are  trooping 
into  and  out  of  this  northeast  room.  The  entire 
White  House,  without  him  in  it,  is  only  a  shell,  a 
sort  of  perfunctory  headquarters,  from  which  the  life 
has  departed. 

The  city  of  Washington  is  still  only  a  frontier 
post,  in  spite  of  the  victory  on  the  Antietam;  but 
people  who  come  here  from  the  North  seem  to  labor 
under  the  delusion  that  it  is  right  in  the  middle  of 
the  United  States.  They  might  understand  the  mat- 
ter a  little  better  after  a  thoughtful  inspection  of  the 
fortifications,  especially  those  upon  the  Virginia 
side.  No  castle  of  these  modern  times  is  at  all  like 
the  castles  people  used  to  set  up  before  cannon  were 


I/O    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

constructed  to  pitch  a  heavy  shell  seven  miles  and 
have  it  burst  on  striking.  The  walls  of  the  White 
House  seem  to  be  here,  where  you  can  touch  them 
and  look  through  their  windows;  but  that  is  only  an 
appearance.  They  are  really  far  away  and  they  are 
not  white.  Their  precise  tint  depends  upon  that  of 
the  mud  they  are  built  or  building  of,  and  their  win- 
dows have  eyes  of  iron  staring  through  them  and 
watching  for  the  very  possible  approach  of  a  Con- 
federate assailing  party.  This  is  only  the  old,  the 
haunted  part  of  the  castle  of  the  Presidents,  and  now 
that  Mr.  Lincoln  is  in  the  camps,  we  and  the  ghosts 
have  all  the  eastern  wing  of  it  to  ourselves,  at  least 
for  to-day.  It  has  temporarily  lost  its  charm  for 
most  other  visitors.  It  loses  it  as  they  cross  the 
portico  and  learn  at  the  door  that  there  is  no  dic- 
tator here.  That  is  what  the  Opposition  press  and 
orators  of  all  sizes  are  calling  him.  Witness,  also, 
the  litter  on  the  floor  and  the  heaped-up  waste-bas- 
kets. There  is  no  telling  how  many  editors  and  how 
many  other  penmen  within  these  past  few  days  have 
undertaken  to  assure  him  that  this  is  a  war  for  the 
Union  only,  and  that  they  never  gave  him  any  au- 
thority to  run  it  as  an  Abolition  war.  They  never, 
never  told  him  that  he  might  set  the  negroes  free, 
and,  now  that  he  has  done  so,  or  futilely  pretended 
to  do  so,  he  is  a  more  unconstitutional  tyrant  and  a 
more  odious  dictator  than  ever  he  was  before.  They 
tell  him,  however,  that  his  edict,  his  ukase,  his  de- 
cree, his  firman,  his  venomous  blow  at  the  sacred 
liberty  of  white  men  to  own  black  men  is  mere  bru- 
titm  fulmcn,  and  a  dead  letter  and   a  poison  which 


THE   ECHOES   OF   THE   PROCLAMATION.        171 

will  not  work.  They  tell  him  many  other  things, 
and,  among'  them,  they  tell  him  that  the  army  will 
fight  no  more,  and  that  the  hosts  of  the  Union  will 
indignantly  disband  rather  than  be  sacrificed  upon 
the  bloody  altar  of  fanatical  Abolitionism.  Precisely 
what  they  do  not  tell  him,  if  he  knew  what  they  are 
doing,  it  would  be  hard  to  say;  but  there  are  the 
baskets,  and  he  is  up  yonder  with  General  McClel- 
lan,  congratulating  the  boys  in  blue  upon  the  good 
work  they  did  at  South  Mountain  and  the  Antie- 
tam,  and  urging  their  commander  to  at  once  push 
forward  and  give  them  an  opportunity  for  doing 
more  as  good  as  that. 

What  do  the  soldiers  think  of  the  Emancipation 
Proclamation  ? 

They  are  mostly  a  little  out  of  politics,  just  now, 
but  perhaps  one  of  them  spoke  for  the  others  when 
he  remarked: 

"  The  Proclimashin  ?  Well !  Yes  !  I'm  an  old 
Hunker  myself.  Hardest  kind  of  Hardshell  Demo- 
crat. I  ain't  no  Abolitionist.  But  then,  if  Old  Abe 
kin  git  the  niggers  to  quit  work,  it  'd  cut  off  the  sup- 
plies of  Lee's  army,  sharpest  kind.  I'd  thought  of  it 
myself,  but  I  didn't  reckon  Linken  'd  hev  the  grit  to 
up  and  do  it.  It's  an  all-fired  good  move,  so  far's  the 
army's  consarned." 

What  does  McClellan  think  of  it  ? 

There  is  no  doubt  or  question  that  he  disapproves 
of  it,  both  on  grounds  of  policy  and  of  constitutional 
law;  but  his  course  has  proved  that  some  hot-headed 
people  have  been  more  than  a  little  unjust  to  him. 


172     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

He  is  a  better  citizen  and  a  wiser  man  than  they  said 
he  was.  Still,  the  little  he  has  said,  and  the  much 
more  which  he  has  refused  to  say,  fixes  his  position 
as  the  leader  of  the  political  opposition,  and  forbids 
that  he  should  long  remain  in  command  of  so  impor- 
tant an  army,  unless  he  will  use  it  with  such  energy 
that  no  power  in  this  country  could  presume  to  re- 
move him.  It  was  said  a  few  months  ago  that  no 
such  power  existed,  or  could  or  would  be  exercised; 
but  the  position  he  was  allowed  to  slip  into  at  the 
close  of  the  Peninsular  campaign  familiarized  the 
army  and  the  nation  with  the  idea  that  the  President 
could  remove  him  as  easily  as  he  could  any  other 
commander — for  a  declared  cause. 

Suchacause  exists,  and  enough  ofitcan  safely  be  de- 
clared, and  among  the  ghosts  which  haunt  the  White 
House  to-day,  not  one  is  the  ghost  of  a  doubt  that  Mc- 
Clellan  will  shortly  be  superseded,  while  many  of  the 
others  are  shadows  of  the  possible  consequences. 

There  never  was  so  long  a  week,  but  the  President 
is  back  again,  and  all  that  anybody  yet  knows  is  that 
the  army  received  him  well,  and  that  he  left  behind 
him  very  positive  orders  for  an  immediate  and  rapid 
advance. 

The  tide  of  official  and  all  other  kinds  of  visitors 
has  set  in  again,  and  the  White  House  is  as  busy  as 
ever.  It  is  understood,  moreover,  that  the  remainder 
of  the  autumn  and  the  coming  winter  are  to  be 
marked  as  a  society  season,  and  that  the  city  of 
Washington  will  be  as  gay  a  town  as  any  garrisoned 
post  can  expect  to  be  in  time  of  war. 


THE   ECHOES   OF   THE   PROCLAMATION.        1 73 

"  What  is  it,  Edward  ? " 

"  Madame  expects  you  in  the  Red  Room  this  even- 
ing. She's  to  have  a  reception.  Will  you  please 
come  down  now  for  a  few  minutes  ?" 

It  is  a  little  early  in  the  season  for  Mrs.  Lincoln's 
Red  Room  receptions  to  begin,  but  she  has  good 
reasons  for  the  announcement  she  has  sent  out.  She 
is  entirely  willing  to  do  her  duty  and  to  sit  through 
the  evening  in  her  parlor,  while  her  smiling  guests 
pull  her  in  pieces,  and  she  says  so,  cheerfully,  as  you 
chat  with  her  and  receive  her  instructions. 

She  has  gone  now,  and  we  may  as  well  linger  a 
moment  in  the  Red  Room.  It  is  not  large,  and  it  is 
made  smaller  by  its  massive  furniture,  its  heavy  cur- 
tains, its  grand  piano,  and  by  the  consciousness  that 
it  is  in  the  middle  corner,  so  to  speak,  of  an  unusually 
large  house. 

Put  aside  the  curtains  and  look  out  of  this  window, 
across  the  White  House  grounds.  You  cannot  see 
far,  because  of  the  trees  and  bushes;  but,  upon  a 
careful  study,  you  will  understand,  as  you  shove  up 
the  sash,  that  this  is  one  of  the  most  important  win- 
dows in  the  United  States.  Mrs.  Lincoln  is  in  con- 
stant communication  with  the  Confederate  Govern- 
ment, betraying  the  war-plans  of  the  Union  generals, 
and  this  must  be  where  she  does  it,  for  this  is  sacredly 
her  own  room.  Even  the  President  himself  has  never 
been  seen  here.  The  mails  are  not  a  channel  for 
treachery,  since  every  letter  to  Mrs.  Lincoln  is  opened 
and  read  upstairs.  The  telegraphic  wires  are  under 
War  Office  censorship,  of  a  peculiarly  rigid  kind, 
and  there  is   no  private  wire  to  the  White   House. 


174   inside  tut:  white  house  in  war  times. 

The  servants,  downstairs,  are  known  to  be  intensely 
loyal,  and  would  neither  carry  nor  bring  a  communi- 
cation of  the  Arnold-Andre  kind.  There  is,  there- 
fore, but  one  entirely  reasonable  solution  of  the 
problem  of  how  Mr.  Jefferson  Davis,  or  his  next  of 
kin,  can  receive  army  plans  from  Mrs.  Lincoln,  after 
she  has  obtained  them  from  the  President,  and  Hal- 
leck,  and  Stanton,  and  McClellan,  and  General 
Smith.  The  Confederate  spies  work  their  way  through 
the  lines  easily  enough,  fort  after  fort,  till  they  reach 
the  Potomac  down  'yonder.  The  Long  Bridge  is 
closed  to  them,  and  so  is  the  Georgetown  Bridge, 
but  they  cross  at  night  in  rowboats,  or  by  swimming, 
and  they  come  up  through  the  grounds,  like  so  many 
ghosts,  and  they  put  a  ladder  up  to  this  window,  and 
Mrs.  Lincoln  hands  them  out  the  plans. 

Where  do  they  get  the  ladder  ? 

Well,  now,  you  tell,  if  you  know.  They  may  bor- 
row it  of  Jacob.  But  there  is  no  other  way  for  the 
alleged  treasonable  communication  to  be  carried  on. 

It  is  a  strange  thing  to  get  through  with  White 
House  work  'early  and  to  have  before  you  nothing 
but  an  evening  of  Executive  Mansion  sociability. 

The  Red  Room  does  not  look  unpleasantly  red 
by  gas-light,  but  the  prevailing  tint  has  its  effect 
upon  any  and  all  other  tints  exposed  to  its  influence. 
For  instance,  it  heightens  the  deep  crimson  shade 
of  the  silk  that  Mrs.  Lincoln  is  wearing  this  even- 
ing, and  makes  it  contrast  more  decidedly  with  the 
simple  blue  worn  by  the  slender  young  woman  who 
is  here  to  assist  her.  When  good  Mrs.  Welles 
comes  in — for  she  is  to  come,  with  a  party  of  friends 


THE   ECHOES   OF   THE   PROCLAMATION.        \y$ 

from  the  North — there  will  be  more  and  very  capable 
assistance;  but  there  will  also  be  another  and  even  a 
stronger  contrast,  for  she  always  wears  sober  colors. 
Mrs.  Lincoln's  robe  was  made  for  her  by  one  of 
the  best  dress  artists  in  New  York,  but  you  cannot 
help  disliking  it,  not  to  speak  of  the  fact  that  your 
taste  keenly  rebels  against  Queen  Victoria's  draw- 
room  edicts  about  low-in-the-neck  toilettes.  You 
rebel  more  vigorously  after  this  bevy  of  Boston, 
Concord,  Lexington  and  Bunker  Hill  women  come 
in,  with  one  or  two  who  are  all  the  way  from 
Plymouth  Rock  and  the  deck  of  the  May  Flower. 
They,  too,  evidently  agree  with  you.  Not  one  of 
them  but  has  deemed  it  her  duty  to  dress  as  if  the 
war-taxes  had  cut  down  her  income  but  had  not 
clipped  the  upper  part  of  her  wardrobe.  The  tall, 
gray-haired,  severe-faced  lady,  in  very  plain  black 
silk,  has  two  sons  in  the  army.  She  may  own 
streets  in  Boston,  for  all  you  know,  but  her  dark 
eyes  search  the  crimson  silk  and  every  other  item 
of  Mrs.  Lincoln's  outfit  remorselessly,  in  spite  of  the 
warm,  hearty  cordiality  of  her  greeting.  Every 
woman  who  has  yet  arrived  has  come  as  a  critic, 
and  not  one  of  them  will  be  capable  of  doing  kindly 
justice;  and  they  will  be  authorities,  hereafter,  swell- 
ing a  miserable  tide  of  misunderstanding.  Some- 
how or  other,  the  best  of  women  make  too  much  of 
dress,  and  there  is  no  more  patriotism  in  their  plain- 
ness than  there  is  in  the  tint  of  this  Red  Room, 
which  has  not  been  changed  because  of  the  war. 
Still,  it  is  something  of  a  relief  to  welcome  a  different 
bevy,  now  sweeping  in ;  for  the  Knickerbockers  are 


176    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

almost  a  distinct  race  from  the  Puritans.  There  are 
vivid  colors  now  to  help  the  situation,  and  you  can 
be  thankful  to  Manhattan  Island,  and  to  Statcn 
Island,  and  to  Long  Island,  and  to  Hell  Gate,  Spuy- 
ten  Duyvil,  the  Dunderberg  and  Anthony's  Nose. 
Red,  blue,  and  other  tints  which  you  do  not  know 
the  correct  name  of,  and  a  fine  glitter  of  diamonds. 
It  is  all  right  now,  for  the  entire  Bunker  Hill  party 
disapproves  of  the  Hudson  party,  and  there  is  sincere 
reciprocity,  and  the  recent  victories  give  a  fine  ex- 
cuse for  exuberant  good  spirits  in  the  Red  Room. 
Nevertheless,  the  honors  are  largely  with  Bunker 
Hill;  for  the  gray  critic  with  the  severe  eyes  comes 
out  in  all  but  fiercely  enthusiastic  approval  of  the 
Emancipation  Proclamation,  and  it  is  not  taken  up 
very  audibly  by  the  echoes  between  the  Dunderberg 
and  Anthony's  Nose.  Long  Island  and  Staten 
Island  do  better,  and  make  you  glad  of  being  your- 
self a  sort  of  Bunker  Hill  Knickerbocker.  On  the 
whole,  these  women,  queens  of  society  in  their  own 
parishes,  should  have  perceptive  faculties  capable  cf 
telling  them,  and  others  through  them,  that  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln— a  Kentucky  girl  whose  years  have  been  passed, 
for  the  greater  part,  in  a  growing  village  on  Grand 
Prairie,  among  prairie  villagers  and  settlers — is  do- 
ing the  honors  of  the  White  House  remarkably  well. 
Not  one  woman  in  a  hundred  would  do  any  better  ; 
but  then  these  women,  the  visitors  of  this  evening, 
consider  themselves,  not  as  one  in  a  hundred,  but 
each  as  one  in  a  thousand,  with  nine  hundred  and 
ninety-nine  ranged  below  her.  So  they  will  show 
no  mercy. 


THE    ECHOES   OF   THE    PROCLAMATION.        1 77 

Other  guests  arrive,  and  some  of  the  earlier  ar- 
rivals depart,  and  new  groups  form  and  re-form  and 
separate,  and  there  is  no  end  of  mutual  criticism 
among  them.  The  various  elements  do  not  take 
the  trouble  to  melt  together  and  assimilate.  It  is 
almost  as  if  the  severe  gray  lady,  so  admirable 
every  way  and  so  well  aware  of  it,  set  a  pattern 
which  cannot  be  departed  from  by  any  lesser  light, 
and  she  did  not  stir  from  the  chair  in  which  she  first 
sat  down.  That  kind  of  woman  has  been  here  be- 
fore, and  she  never  by  any  chance  walks  around  the 
room. 

The  evening  passes,  and  at  the  end  of  it  not  one 
visitor  can  be  recalled  who  did  not  offer  a  good  rea- 
son for  being  at  the  Capital  at  this  out-of-season 
season,  or  who  did  not  express  a  purpose  of  coming 
again  some  day,  during  what  is  supposed  to  be  "  the 
social  season  "  at  this  fortified  post  upon  the  Confed- 
erate frontier. 

Day  after  day  goes  by  with  an  increasing  sense 
that  this  Administration  is  fighting  a  double  battle, 
and  that  it  has  by  no  means  too  large  a  force  in 
either  field.  Even  in  Mrs.  Lincoln's  parlor  the 
guests  who  come  leave  behind  them  very  plain  ex- 
pressions of  the  disturbed  state  of  the  public  mind; 
but  that  is  a  zephyr  among  flowers  compared  to  the 
gusts  which  are  rising  among  the  busy  politicians 
and  the  many  disappointed  patriots  of  the  North. 
It  was  a  foregone  conclusion  that  General  McClellan 
would  not  abandon  the  cautious  deliberation  which 
marks  his  military  nature,  and  that  he  would  be  su- 


I78     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

perseded  by  Mr.  Lincoln's  equally  cautious  but  pre- 
determined search  for  a  forward  movement  embodied 
in  a  living  general.  The  Army  of  the  Potomac,  the 
representative  force,  in  one  sense,  of  the  whole  army 
of  the  Republic,  has  passed  under  another  command- 
er, for  good  or  evil;  but  the  autumnal  elections  have 
been  held,  and  State  after  State  has  given  warning 
that  Mr.  Lincoln's  hold  upon  the  men  who  are  near 
enough  to  the  polls  to  cast  ballots  has  been  strained 
almost  to  breaking.  The  voices  which  come 
through  the  mails  are  simply  terrific  in  their  volume 
and  vehemence,  and  we  are  in  great  need  of  victo- 
ries in  the  eastern  battle-fields  as  well  as  in  the  Val- 
ley of  the  Mississippi. 

The  shadows  have  been  deepening,  day  by  day, 
but  this  morning  there  seems  to  be  a  peculiar  smell 
about  the  White  House.  If  at  any  time  you  go 
down  into  the  basement,  even  in  cold  weather  like 
this,  you  will  be  reminded  of  old  country  taverns,  if 
not  of  something  you  have  smelled  in  the  edge  of 
some  swamp.  But  this  is  quite  another  matter.  It 
is  more  like  a  suggestion  of  much  waste  of  gunpow- 
der. And  the  wind  comes  up  across  the  Mall  with 
a  plaintive,  moaning  whisper,  as  if  it  bore  a  story  it 
could  not  find  the  heart  to  tell. 

Yes,  that  was  General  Burnside  himself,  coming 
out  of  the  President's  room.  This  odor  of  gunpow- 
der and  this  whisper  of  grief  have  been  here,  float- 
ing around  the  house,  ever  since  the  battle  of  Fred- 
ericksburg was  fought  and  was  not  won.  Its  cost 
was  mournfully  heavy.  We  lost  fifty  per  cent,  more 
men  than  did  the  enemy,  and  yet  there  is  sense  in 


THE   ECHOES   OE   THE   PROCLAMATION.        179 

the  awful  arithmetic  propounded  by  Mr.  Lincoln. 
He  says  that  if  the  same  battle  were  to  be  fought 
over  again,  every  day,  through  a  week  of  days,  with 
the  same  relative  results,  the  army  under  Lee  would 
be  wiped  out  to  its  last  man,  the  Army  of  the  Po- 
tomac would  still  be  a  mighty  host,  the  war  would 
be  over,  the  Confederacy  gone,  and  peace  would  be 
won  at  a  smaller  cost  of  life  than  it  will  be  if  the 
week  of  lost  battles  must  be  dragged  out  through 
yet  another  year  of  camps  and  marches,  and  of  deaths 
in  hospitals  rather  than  upon  the  field.  No  general 
yet  found  can  face  the  arithmetic,  but  the  end  of  the 
war  will  be  at  hand  when  he  shall  be  discovered. 
Such  a  gift  of  Providence  to  the  Union  armies  at  this 
present  hour  would  be  a  Grant  that  would  hardly  be 
appreciated  by  the  nation;  but  Mr.  Lincoln  is  search- 
ing for  him. 

That  was  Burnside,  and  a  fine  man  he  is,  a  good 
officer,  but  not  quite  up  in  his  battle-field  arithmetic. 
The  breech-loading  carbine  he  invented  before  the 
war  was  a  very  nice  weapon,  but  it  was  a  small  bore 
and  did  not  equal  some  of  these  later  patterns.  He 
will  cease  to  command  the  Army  of  the  Potomac, 
but  he  has  lost  no  part  of  the  confidence  and  esteem 
felt  for  him  by  the  President.  He  will  have  another 
first-class  command,  and  his  future  will  be  as  honor- 
able as  is  his  past;  but  hardly  anything  in  it  will  be 
more  a  credit  to  his  memory  than  is  the  way  he  has 
borne  himself  in  this  his  darkened  hour.  His  inter- 
view with  the  President  is  supposed  to  have  had  no 
witnesses,  but  a  young  man  who  all  but  accidentally 
knew   something  about  it  says  that  it  gave   him  a 


l8o    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

higher  idea  of  human  nature,  manliness,  generosity, 
unselfishness,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  to  hear  Lin- 
coln and  Burnside  trying  each  to  relieve  the  other 
of  the  excessive  burden  of  the  Fredericksburg  re- 
sponsibility and  to  carry  it  himself.  It  wilt  not  do 
to  say  anything  about  it,  for  fear  of  fatal  results.  If 
such  an  example  of  generosity  were  held  too  closely 
before  some  men  it  would  kill  them.  Their  mean- 
ness would  strike  in,  and  they  would  die. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

REALITIES   AND   THE   DRAMA. 

"  TF  you  can  do  anything  for  the  passage  of  the  Na- 

*  tional  Bank  Act  you  ought  not  to  fail  of  doing 
it.  There  seems  to  be  no  other  way  for  placing  four 
hundred  millions  more  of  government  bonds." 

The  other  features  of  the  Act,  as  a  vital  part  of 
the  policy  of  the  Administration,  are  briefly  re- 
hearsed by  the  speaker,  very  much  as  you  already 
understand  them. 

"  Beyond  a  doubt,"  he  says,  "a  decisive  vote  will 
be  reached  to-morrow,  and  the  bill  will  surely  be 

defeated,  unless  in  the  Senate,  and  ■ •  in  the 

House  can  be  induced  to  support  it.  They  are 
good  enough  Republicans,  but  they  are  going  the 
other  way,  some  of  them  for  one  reason,  some  for 
another." 

"And  mostly  without  reason!  Perhaps  some- 
thing can  be  done  !  " 

Very  likely  the  views  of  such  men  as  he  has  indi- 
cated cannot  easily  be  changed,  but  there  are  some- 
times curious  coincidences  nowadays.  It  happens 
that  the  very  Senators  and  Congressmen  named, 
and  not  any  others,  have  been  invited  to  attend  a 
meeting  of  a  committee  of  the  Grand  Council  of 
Twelve  of  the  Union  League  this  very  evening,  to 
discuss  the  work  of  the  League  in  their  States  and 

181 


182     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR   TIMES. 

districts.  They  all  are  members  of  the  League,  and 
they  have  gladly  agreed  to  come  ;  for  their  very 
seats  in  either  House  depend  upon  the  support  they 
receive  from  the  great  party  machine. 

We  may  as  well  attend  that  meeting,  for  many 
subjects  of  interest  may  come  up  for  discussion. 

There  is  no  better  place  for  a  caucus  than  in  the 
room  of  Grand  President  Edmunds  in  the  Land 
Office.  The  committee  of  the  Grand  Council  is  not 
large.  It  is  a  mere  business  committee  for  practical 
work,  but  it  has  facts  and  figures  to  present  which 
are  intensely  interesting,  not  to  say  gratifying,  to 
the  invited  legislators.  They  are  as  pleased  a  lot  oi 
patriotic  politicians  as  ever  listened  to  the  details  of 
a  thorough  work  of  local  organization  for  their  own 
benefit.  They  avow  their  determination  to  cooper- 
ate more  vigorously  than  ever  before  with  the 
League,  and  it  seems  only  natural  for  them  to  drift 
off,  as  they  do,  into  a  discussion  of  the  National 
Bank  Act.  Here,  too,  in  this  secure  privacy,  they 
are  quite  willing  to  set  forth  the  nature  and  degree 
of  their  opposition,  and  to  say  why  the  bill  is  to  be 
defeated,  as  it  surely  will  be.  At  the  same  time, 
they  are  in  the  state  of  mind  which  listens  courteous- 
ly and  kindly  to  the  other  side  of  any  question,  and 
they  frankly  admit,  point  after  point,  the  force  of  the 
arguments  set  before  them  by  Judge  Edmunds  and 
other  members  of  the  committee. 

"  Well,  now,  I  did  not  so  understand  it.  If  I 
could  be  assured  that  the  President  felt  so  deeply 
about  it,  personally.     I  did  not  know." 

"The  President,  Mr.  Senator,  is  always  cautious, 


REALITIES   AND   THE   DRAMA.  183 

and  rightly  so,  about  saying  or  doing  anything 
which  can  be  construed  as  Executive  interference 
with  the  independence  of  the  legislative." 

"Of  course  he  is.  But  then!  I  had  no  idea! 
Do  you  mean  to  say,  of  your  own  knowledge,  that 
he  regards — that  he  has  said — or  that  he  would  look 
upon  any  man  who  voted  against  that  bill  as  a  pub- 
lic enemy  ? " 

"By  no  means,  Mr.  Senator!  Do  not  misunder- 
stand me !  I  have  said  nothing  of  the  kind  !  He 
has  said  nothing  whatever,  nor  would  he  assume 
such  an  attitude.  He  would  only  feel  that  the  men 
who  defeat  that  bill  are  cutting  off  pay  and  supplies 
to  the  army  in  the  field ;  starving  the  soldiers ; 
forcing  the  abandonment  of  campaigns;  acting  as 
reinforcements  to  Lee,  and  as  supporters  of  Jeff 
Davis.  Of  course  he  would  not  influence  in  any 
way." 

"  That'll  do,  sir !  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  more. 
He  can  have  his  bill !  Is  there  any  more  business, 
Judge  ? " 

"  No,  I  guess  not.  I'm  glad  you  take  so  favorable 
a  view  of  the  Bank  Act.  We  all  do  here.  Now,  .if 
there  is  anything  in  the  way  of  cooperation  that 
you  require " 

"  Oh,  of  course  we  will  call  on  you.  Certainly. 
I'm  going  up  to  see  Lincoln,  after  Congress  adjourns, 
to-morrow.     The  army  needs  money  !     All  right ! " 

The  committee  and  its  legislative  guests  adjourn 
in  a  highly  amicable  state  of  mind,  and  if  the  Bank 
Act  were  here  it  would  leave  the  Interior  Depart- 
ment Building  arm  in  arm  with  two  of  its  worst 


184     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

enemies,  just  as  each  member  of  the  Grand  Council 
Committee  is  now  doing.  It  was  a  pretty  long  but 
a  very  pleasant  evening,  and  it  ended  well,  and  the 
future  existence  of  the  National  Banking  System  is 
assured.  The  right  kind  of  men  are  always  to  be 
reached  by  argument,  but  one  of  those  Senators  will 
meet  you  half  crustily  always,  to  his  dying  day. 
He  will  never  forget  that,  after  all,  it  was  a  kind  of 
pill. 

There  are  a  great  many  things  to  interfere  with 
routine  office  work,  in  a  room  the  door  of  which 
must  be  kept  open.  To  be  sure,  it  is  a  great  place 
to  see  the  course  of  events  from,  this  chair  behind 
the  mail  table.  Did  you  know  that  this  kind  of  re- 
volving chair  was  invented  by  Thomas  Jefferson  ? 
It  was,  and  it  is  one  of  the  many  good  things  he  did 
for  his  country.  It  is  the  ideal  political  chair,  for 
you  can  turn  every  way  without  losing  your  seat. 
He  also  invented  the  Declaration  of  Independence  ; 
but  some  of  these  men  here  seem  to  have  an  idea 
that  they  invented  Lincoln.  When  a  man  invents 
anything  of  importance  he  should  take  out  a  patent 
for  it,  or  it  will  get  away  from  him.  Then  he  will 
feel  as  sour  over  it  as  do  some  of  those  excellent  in- 
ventors from  the  banks  of  the  Sangamon  and  Ver- 
milion, or  that  other  gentleman  yonder,  Avho  is  so 
sadly  proud  of  the  historical  fact  that  "  I  set  him 
a-going  in  New  York,  sir.  I  was  the  first  man  there 
to  come  out  for  him.  Before  his  Cooper  Institute 
speech.  I  stuck  to  him,  in  spite  of  his  speech,  and 
I'm  a-sticking  to  him  now." 


REALITIES   AND   THE   DRAMA.  185 

So  he  is,  and  he  is  not  at  all  aware  that  the  quiz- 
zical-faced artist  fellow  over  by  Hay's  desk  is  mak- 
ing a  sketch  of  him,  and  is  wishing,  behind  his  grin, 
that  he  were  a  camera.  It  is  not  every  artist  who 
comes  here  that  can  appreciate  what  he  finds.  Good 
figure  painters  or  character  sketchers,  with  a  gift 
for  the  grotesque  and  for  caricature,  are  rare  birds; 
but,  take  them  all  as  they  come,  the  men  of  the 
pencil  and  brush  are  as  interesting  as  are  the  report- 
ers themselves.  There's  one  of  the  quill  remark- 
ables  now,  and  he  should  be  a  favorite  with  the  art- 
ists. He  is  the  editor  of  a  Washington  paper,  and 
he  is  an  old  favorite  of  William  Shakespeare  the  play- 
writer.  He  goes  under  a  modern  nom  dc  plume  at 
present,  but  his  real  name,  as  every  Shakespeare 
reader  knows,  is  Falstaff — a  thin  man,  and  modest 
and  truthful. 

They  say  there  is  but  one  living  actor  who  can 
present  Falstaff  as  he  really  was  known  to  Shake- 
speare, and  the  President  has  been  almost  anxious 
to  see  Hackett.  He  needs  not  to  be  so,  when  the 
original  comes  up  to  see  him  as  often  as  he  can  find 
an  excuse  for  doing  so.  Hackett  is  to  play  at  Ford's 
this  evening,  but  we  cannot  go.  Work  has  been  so 
badly  put  back  to-day  that  it  can  hardly  be  caught 
up  with  before  bed-time. 

There  are  other  of  Shakespeare's  friends  who 
come  up  here  from  time  to  time,  but  we  cannot  stop 
to  name  them  now — we  must  go  home  to  dinner. 

The  evenings  are  somehow  always  long  in  the 
White  House,  winter  or  summer,  and  this  threatens 
to  be  as  long  as  any,  for  everybody  else  has  gone, 


1 86     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

and  it  is  lonely  work.  Slash  them  through  !  It  is 
curious  what  a  difference  there  is  in  mails.  Some 
are  almost  half  wheat,  but  this  is  all  but  solid  chaff 
and  rottenness  of  one  sort  or  another.  What  sick- 
ening insanity  ! 

"  You  are  here?  I  reckoned  I'd  find  you  here. 
I  am  going  to  the  theater,  to  see  Hackett  play  Fal- 
staff,  and  I  want  you  to  come  with  me.  I've  always 
wanted  to  see  him  in  that  character.  Come  to  my 
room.     It's  about  time  to  go." 

There  are  a  few  minutes  spent  in  the  President's 
room,  while  he  puts  away  some  papers;  but  he  is 
not  thinking,  apparently,  of  the  mess  of  public  busi- 
ness he  is  thrusting  aside.  He  is  making  an  obvi- 
ous effort  not  to  think  of  it,  and  he  has  actually  been 
reading  over  the  play  that  he  is  to  witness  the  pre- 
sentation of.  It  does  not  seem  correct  to  ask  him 
particular  questions,  but  things  can  be  said  which 
stir  him  up  to  make  remarks,  and  the  more  he  says 
the  plainer  he  makes  it  that  he  is  a  thoughtful  stu- 
dent of  the  great  poet.  He  anticipates  an  evening 
of  unusual  enjoyment,  and  of  mental  relief  and  re- 
freshment, and  you  are  keenly  conscious  that  it  is 
the  very  thing  that  he  is  most  in  need  of,  next  to  a 
great  victory  by  our  army  in  the  field. 

There  are  those  who  severely  criticise  the  Pres- 
ident for  his  occasional  weakness  and  wickedness  of 
going  to  the  theater,  and  setting  a  bad  example  to 
all  the  young  men  and  women  of  the  land.  They 
are  excellent  people,  who  always  think  of  the  pit 
when  they  think  of  a  theater,  as  if  that  might  be  all 
there  is  of  it — that  and  a  smell  of  sulphur — and  they 


REALITIES   AND   THE   DRAMA.  1 87 

prophesy  awful  consequences  to  Mr.  Lincoln  and  to 
the  nation.  If  their  premonitory  warnings  shall 
seem,  at  a  day  which  is  not  foreseen,  but  which  is 
coming,  to  have  a  tremendous  and  blood-stained 
fulfillment,  will  there  really  then  be  any  voice  to  as- 
sert that  the  lightning  of  that  blow  fell  upon  him 
and  upon  the  nation  because  he  went  to  Ford's,  and 
on  Good  Friday  evening  ?  If  so,  the  evidence  in 
the  Surratt  trial  and  the  other  trials  will  correct 
that  erroneous  view  of  the  matter. 

There  is  no  premonition  of  peril  to-night,  as  we 
sit  here  in  the  President's  box.  There  was  a  storm 
of  applause  when  he  came  in,  and  now  it  seems  as 
securely  safe  a  corner  of  the  great  Washington  City 
fort  as  any  which  could  be  selected.  He  is  incom- 
parably better  guarded  here,  to  any  critical  human 
eye,  than  if  he  were  walking  through  the  White 
House  grounds,  or  to  and  from  the  house  of  one  of 
the  secretaries,  alone,  or  with  only  an  unarmed  at- 
tendant. The  house  is  crowded.  There  are  sol- 
diers, police,  citizens — hundreds  of  them,  a  body- 
guard through  which  no  assassin  could  force  his  way. 
Besides,  assassination  works  in  secret  and  in  dark- 
ness. Who  can  imagine  a  diseased,  abnormal  van- 
ity, which  will  commit  murder  in  the  face  of  certain 
death,  in  order  that  the  manner  of  the  deed  may 
make  its  theatrically  performed  tragedy  take  the 
frenzied  shape  of  something  hellishly  resembling 
fame  ?  So  it  will  be;  but  at  this  moment  it  can  be 
ascertained  how  many  of  those  men  and  women 
carry  opera-glasses,  for  they  are  all  aiming  their 
binoculars    at    Mr.   Lincoln    as    he    sits   so    quietly 


1 88     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

looking  at  the  curtain  and  waiting  for  it  to 
rise. 

If  he  is  a  study  to  those  people,  and  to  hundreds 
more  who  carry  no  glasses,  so  he  is  to  us,  and  we 
wait  with  a  sense  of  hopeful  satisfaction  to  see  his 
face  light  up  and  to  hear  him  laugh. 

Hackett  is  indeed  superb.  Even  when  the  living 
Falstaff  comes  to  the  White  House  after  news,  or  to 
criticise  generals  and  campaigns,  and  public  men, 
and  the  measures  of  the  Administration,  he  is  not 
nearly  so  much  his  complete  self  as  he  is  here  upon 
these  boards  to-night.  The  roll  in  his  gait  is  the 
same  there,  but  he  is  near-sighted  and  has  to  wear 
spectacles,  and  Hackett  wisely  omits  them  in  repre- 
senting him.  He  is  playing  his  very  best,  and  he  is 
well  supported.  It  is  a  perfect  idealization,  and  the 
President  is  studying  it  intensely.  He  is  enjoying 
himself.  He  has  forgotten  the  war.  He  has  forgot- 
ten Congress.  He  is  out  of  politics.  He  is  living  in 
Prince  Hal's  time.  He  is  studying  Shakespeare  as 
intensely  as  he  used  to  study  him  between  cases 
and  law-books  and  works  upon  mathematics  in  the 
old  law-practice  days,  when  he  drove  around  the 
Eighth  Judicial  District  of  Illinois  in  a  borrowed 
buggy  until  he  could  collect  fees  enough  to  buy  one. 

It  is  a  long  performance,  but  at  last  the  curtain 
falls.  The  applause  has  been  frequent,  prolonged, 
sincere,  and  Hackett  has  been  called  out,  and  has 
responded,  and  has  retired,  and  you  rise  as  Mr.  Lin- 
coln does.  The  smile  with  which  he  now  tells  you 
how  thoroughly  he  has  enjoyed  it  all,  how  much  he 
has  learned,  how  much  better  he  now  understands 


REALITIES   AND   THE   DRAMA.  1 89 

the  poet — well,  it  is  absolutely  the  first  smile  you 
have  detected,  during  the  evening,  upon  his  intense- 
ly studious,  absorbed,  abstracted  face. 

"  Have  you  been  vaccinated  ?" 

"  Yes,  doctor,  but  it  was  long  ago.  Is  the  small- 
pox on  the  increase  ?" 

"  Terribly,  and  everything  else  is  on  the  increase, 
and  I  have  been  so  busy  I  had  been  forgetful  of  my 
duty.  I  should  have  attended  to  you  before.  Guess 
it  isn't  too  late.     Bare  your  arm." 

That  was  early  in  the  season,  and  the  results  of 
the  attention  you  then  received,  whether  late  or 
early,  from  your  own  physician,  made  you  about 
down  sick  for  a  week.  Ever  since  then  you  have 
understood  that  the  extent  of  the  prevalence  of  the 
dreaded  disorder  is  one  of  those  secrets  which  the 
Surgeon  General's  office  does  not  give  to  the  report- 
ers. On  the  whole,  you  believe  that  you  are  safe 
and  always  have  been,  and  you  have  a  natural  ab- 
sence of  nervousness  about  any  kind  of  infection.  It 
is  very  much  as  if  you  were  a  fatalist,  and  yet  you 
are  somehow  startled,  almost  into  a  shudder,  by  pre- 
cisely the  same  question,  asked  of  you  here,  at  the 
mail-table: 

"  Have  you  been  vaccinated?" 

"  Yes,  doctor,  thoroughly "  and  you  tell  him 

your  unpleasant  experience,  but  he  says: 

"  Glad  of  it !  Very  glad  of  it !  But  it  will  do  no 
hurt  to  repeat.  I'll  shut  the  door  a  moment.  Take 
off  your  coat  and  bare  your  arm." 

He  is  the  President's  own  physician,  and  he  is  a 


I90     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

rapid  operator;  but  he  supposes  you  to  know  more 
than  you  yet  do,  for  he  chats  along  while  he  punctures : 

"  Mr.  Lincoln's  case  is  not  fully  developed  yet. 
Varioloid." 

"  Not  the  small-pox  !"  you  exclaim,  with  another 
shudder,  which  helps  the  entrance  of  the  keen  point 
of  his  feathery  flash  of  steel. 

"  Oh,  no,  probably  not.  I  won't  say  more  just  now. 
There,  you'll  do.  I've  really  no  uneasiness  about  him." 

Everybody  else  has,  then,  after  the  doctor  has 
taken  his  confident  and  smiling  departure.  Who- 
ever yet  believed  that  a  doctor  could  read  the  end 
of  a  smallpox  case  from  the  beginning  ? 

But  the  varioloid  is  not  the  smallpox. 

What  is  it,  if  it  isn't  that  ?  Couldn't  he  die  of  it  ? 
Of  course  he  could.  And  where  would  everything 
go  if  he  should  die  ? 

There  has  been  such  an  absence  of  any  thought 
concerning  the  President's  health  !  The  idea  of  as- 
sassination has  been  held  up  before  us  until  it  is  worn 
out  and  there  is  no  more  scare  in  it;  but  the  idea  of 
his  possible  death  in  any  other  way  never  came  be- 
fore, and  it  is  all  the  more  grisly  now  that  it  is  here. 

Nobody  is  supposed  to  know  it,  but  the  White 
House  has  suddenly  been  turned  into  a  smallpox  hos- 
pital, with  a  certain  degree  of  penetrable  quarantine. 

This  is  surely  a  remarkable  addition  to  the  other 
elements  of  its  peculiar  character.  The  loneliness 
enforced,  so  far  as  the  ordinary  run  of  visitors  is 
concerned,  has  in  it  somewhat  that  is  differently  op- 
pressive from  the  old  familiar  clamor.  It  is  impos- 
sible not  to  calculate  consequences,  and  to  remember 


REALITIES  AND   THE   DRAMA.  IQI 

all  you  know  about  Mr.  Hannibal  Hamlin.  He  would 
be  President  if  Mr.  Lincoln  should  die,  and  there  is 
no  means  by  which  you  can  form  an  opinion  of  his 
capacity  as  dictator.  No,  absolutely;  he  could  not 
step  into  Mr.  Lincoln's  shoes,  and  something  of  in- 
estimable value  would  be  lost  to  the  country,  even 
if  Mr.  Hamlin  were  twice  as  large  a  man  as  he  is 
believed  to  be. 

Day  follows  day,  and  all  the  reports  from  the 
sick-room  are  favorable,  but  the  whole  country  is 
nervous  about  this  case,  mild  as  it  is,  and  so  are  you. 

There  are,  indeed,  some  people  whose  nerves  are 
not  at  all  shaken,  especially  those  belonging  to  their 
facial  muscles.  Here  is  one  of  them,  who  has  man- 
aged to  pass  the  lower  door  quarantine.  He  does 
not  explain  how  he  did  it,  but  he  is  eager  to  unfold 
the  fact  that  he  is  an  important  office-seeker,  sure  of 
success  if  he  could  see  the  President,  his  papers  of 
recommendation  are  so  overpoweringly  strong. 

"But  Mr.  Lincoln  is  sick,  dangerously  sick.  He 
cannot  attend  to  business,  except  such  as  is  of  the 
utmost  national  consequence.  He  cannot  receive 
visitors." 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing.  I  don't  mind  the  smallpox. 
I  am  not  in  the  least  afraid  of  infection.  You  can  tell 
him  so.  He  needn't  be  afraid  I'll  catch  it.  Tell  him 
I'll  come  right  in.     I've  been  vaccinated." 

It  requires  something  like  engineering  to  get  that 
fearless  adventurer  out  of  the  White  House,  for  he 
really  is  a  man  who  is  of  some  value,  but  he  is  also 
one  who  has  a  right  to  know  that  another  man,  en- 
during  pain   and   fever    and   intolerable   irritation, 


192     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

ought  not  to  be  intruded  upon.  Perhaps  he  was 
thinking  less  of  that,  and  more  of  the  fact  that  Mr. 
Lincoln  could  appoint  him  to-day  and  die  to-morrow. 

There  are  many  others  like  him,  but  the  quaran- 
tine is  usually  too  much  for  them.  So,  if  they  suc- 
ceed in  passing  that,  is  the  impassable  Mr.  Nicolay, 
and  he  has  a  fine  faculty  for  explaining  to  some  men 
the  view  he  takes  of  any  untimely  persistency.  Hay 
does  it  equally  well,  in  some  cases,  but  he  is  even 
too  fine  about  it,  and  there  are  fellows  who  went 
away  and  did  not  know  how  much  he  told  them. 
It  is  of  no  use  to  employ  verbal  needles  upon  pachy- 
dermatous natures. 

"  The  President  wishes  to  see  you.  He  understands 
that  you  are  proof  against  infection." 

"I  want  to  see  him,  then!  Is  he  sitting  up,  Edward  ?" 

"  Indeed  he  is,  and  he  won't  be  there  long.  He's 
doing  finely !" 

It  will  never  be  possible  to  forget  how  this  sick- 
room looks.  So  bright  it  is,  in  the  perceived  certainty 
that  the  peril  has  passed  away !  Even  the  welcom- 
ing smile  that  lights  up  Mr.  Lincoln's  face  is  a  half- 
amused  reflection  of  your  own  exuberance.  He  has 
not  been  alarmed  about  himself  at  any  moment,  and 
he  combines  his  instructions  concerning  the  duties  he 
assigns  you  with  a  humorous  response  to  your  per- 
sonal inquiries.  He  almost  wishes  he  could  have  his 
office  in  one  of  the  smallpox  hospitals.  It  would 
relieve  him  of  one  part  of  his  pressure:  "Well,  no," 
he  adds,  "it  wouldn't.  They'd  all  go  and  get  vac- 
cinated, and  they'd  come  buzzing  back,  just  the  same 
as  they  do  now — or  worse." 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

A   VIGIL   AND   A   VICTORY. 

M  \  17 ILL  there  not  be  any  dancing?" 

*^  "Dancing?  Why,  no!  What  room  will 
there  be  for  dancing,  even  if  it  were  expected  ?  Do 
you  know  how  many  people  we've  got  to  stow  away  ? 
And  feed  them  all,  too?" 

"  I  don't  know.  You  say  I  can't  have  any  ticket, 
and  you've  sent  them  all  over  the  country,  or  Mrs. 
Lincoln  has." 

"No,  she  hasn't.  It's  a  rigidly  official  affair — a 
consolidated  reception." 

"  What  makes  them  call  it  a  ball,  then  ?" 

"They're  thinking  of  cannon  balls.  We're  forced 
to  be  rigid.  The  Cabinet,  the  Supreme  Court,  the 
heads  of  Departments,  some  lesser  judges,  the  entire 
Diplomatic  Corps,  Senators,  Congressmen,  generals 
and  admirals,  Governors  of  States — have  you  got 
that  list  in  your  head  ?  Well,  now  add  to  each  man 
of  it  from  one  to  three  women,  and  then  come  with 
me.  I've  procured  a  tape-line,  and  I'm  to  measure 
all  the  floors  for  Mrs.  Lincoln,  to  see  if  there  is  go- 
ing to  be  standing-room.  There  won't  be  a  chance 
for  any  man  or  woman  to  stumble  and  fall  down. 
Dance  ?     I'd  say  not  !" 

You  explain  it  fully  to  this  reporter,  as  you  have 
to  others,  but  all  the  Northern  journals  are  crammed 

193  1  .         , 


194    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

with  discussions  of  "  Mrs.  Lincoln's  party,"  and  one 
illustrated  weekly  has  printed  a  full  column  of 
mournful  verses,  supposed  to  be  sung  by  a  wounded 
volunteer  in  hospital,  concerning  "  My  Lady  Pres- 
ident's Ball." 

Much  the  volunteers  care  whether  she  has  a  party 
or  not !  All  the  boys  in  blue,  we  know,  would  be 
glad  to  go  to  one — the  nearer  their  own  homes  the 
better. 

The  fact  is  that  a  kind  of  established  custom, 
something  like  a  tradition-law  of  the  White  House, 
seems  to  require  of  each  President,  or  of  his  wife, 
a  certain  number  and  routine  of  official  dinners,  dull, 
stately,  costly  affairs,  coming  along  in  a  wearisome 
string  through  the  season. 

Jefferson's  way  of  following,  or  of  helping  to  cre- 
ate, the  custom,  nearly  ruined  him;  so  did  Madison's 
and  Monroe's,  and  John  Tyler  was  tremendously 
vilified  for  the  niggardly,  or  wisely  prudent,  manner 
in  which  he  pruned  it  down.  It  is  objected  to  by 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  upon  several  grounds.  Not 
the  least  of  the  objections  are  the  loss  of  time  and 
the  worry;  but  these  are  small  compared  with  the 
perpetual  peril  of  having  some  official  jollification  set 
down  beforehand  for  the  evening  after  the  arrival  of 
stunning  news  from  the  army.  It  was,  therefore, 
deemed  well  to  crowd  all  into  one  grand  affair, 
given  to  about  the  same  complete  list  of  official  per- 
sonages. 

"  But  what  about  all  these  invitations,"  he  asks, 
"  to  all  the  great  society  people  all  over  the  coun- 
try ?" 


A   VIGIL   AND   A   VICTORY.  195 

"  You  mean  all  the  invitations  which  have  been 
asked  for  by  all  the  would-be  great  people  of  the 
land,  and  which  could  not  be  given  without  first 
enlarging  the  East  Room  to  include  Lafayette 
Square,  and  then  it  would  be  a  tight  fit,  and  no 
dancing." 

Every  rejected  application  for  tickets  of  admis- 
sion to  the  "  ball  "  operates,  through  one  channel  or 
another,  to  swell  the  storm  of  absurd  disapprobation 
which  has  been  aroused  by  this  unfortunate  "  recep- 
tion with  refreshments."  Mrs.  Lincoln  is  made  the 
target  of  all  manner  of  misrepresentation  and  abuse, 
but  it  is  well  to  be  polite  to  the  gentlemen  of  the 
press. 

"  Reporters  from  each  of  the  leading  journals 
will  be  admitted.  Every  accommodation  they  may 
require " 

"  No,  sir  !"  is  the  proudly  indignant  rejoinder;  "if 
we  cannot  come  as  gentlemen  we  will  not  come  at 
all  !     We  are  refused  cards  of  invitation." 

"  It  is  hard  to  see  how  you  can  have  a  better  claim 
than  Secretary  Chase,  for  instance,  or  Vice-President 
Hamlin,  or  the  Chief-Justice." 

"  They  all  have  invitations  !" 

"  Not  one  of  them  is  invited  simply  as  a  gentle- 
man, or  by  reason  of  any  social  position  he  has  out- 
side of  his  official  character.  You  have  no  more 
right  to  an  invitation  than  has  any  hod-carrier  on 
Pennsylvania  Avenue.  It  is  strictly  an  official  af- 
fair." 

"  We  won't  come  without  cards  !" 

"  Don't  come,  then.     The  fact  is,   you  are  only 


I96.    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

stealing  a  little  spent  thunder  from  Charles  Dickens. 
He  refused  to  perform  his  theatricals  before  the 
Queen,  at  her  command,  because  he  was  not  a  gen- 
tleman of  England,  and  could  not  be  received  at 
court.     This  is  another  run  of  shad,  altogether." 

Nevertheless,  that  was  where  the  storm  really  be- 
gan, and  the  reporters  have  the  ears  of  the  people, 
and  there  is  such  a  buzz-making  that  good  people 
in  far-away  farm-houses  are  dreaming  o'  nights  of 
the  wild  orgies  of  waltzing  and  eating  and  drinking 
and  general  wickedness  which  the  judges  and  Sen- 
ators and  other  reckless  old  men  are  about  to  whirl 
in  around  the  lurid  wastes  of  the  President's  house 
at  Washington. 

There  is  difficulty  enough  to  be  encountered  in 
preventing  kindly  Mrs.  Lincoln  from  making  mat- 
ters worse,  and  breaking  the  official  rule  all  to  slivers 
in  her  good-humored  desire  to  oblige  a  persistent 
stream  of  applicants  who  appeal  to  her  personal 
friendship  for  them.  She  has  been  compelled  to 
make  a  kind  of  scapegoat  out  of  you,  and  you  have 
been  getting  black  looks  from  elegant  people  who 
blame  you  as  the  cause  of  their  disappointment.  It 
has  been  a  relief  to  inform  two  or  three  favorite 
generals  and  Congressmen  what  you  thought  of 
them  for  almost  obtaining  extra  tickets  from  her. 

The  reception  evening  arrives  and  there  is  as 
dense  a  pack  as  was  expected,  but  everything  goes 
off  reasonably  well.  There  arc  reporters  here,  after 
all,  and  they  seem  to  be  gentlemen;  but  still  there 
is  danger  in  what  they  may  cause  to  be  printed 
about  "  the  ball,"  all  because  they  are  invited  "  of- 


A   VIGIL   AND    A   VICTORY.  I97 

ficially,"  as  reporters,  and  not  as  if  they  were  entitled 
to  come  by  reason  of  individual  excellence.  It  is 
not  likely  that  many  of  them  will  ever  succeed  in 
seeing  the  funny  side  of  their  position.  It  is  curious, 
too,  considering  how  bright  a  lot  of  fellows  they  are. 
It  is  really  the  work,  mainly,  of  that  English  report- 
er, Dickens,  and  of  the  Court  rule  which  defines  the 
word  "  gentleman"  otherwise  than  it  is  understood 
in  America.  He  had  no  "  sixteen  quarterings  "  to 
show,  and  so  the  Yankee  reporters  will  show  no 
quarter  to  Mrs.  Lincoln. 

It  is  a  grand  affair,  but  there  is  a  great  deal  in  it 
that  is  new  to  everybody  concerned,  and  you  wish 
from  the  beginning  that  you  had  had  a  little  more 
practice,  or  else  a  more  definite  plan  of  campaign 
and  clearer  orders. 

There  are  not  many  better  men  than  Mr.  Seward, 
and  you  believe  it  again  before  the  evening  is  over, 
for  he  helps  your  inexperience  out  of  tight  places 
among  his  diplomatic  mob  with  a  good-nature  and 
dexterity  equal  to  that  which  he  displayed  in  hand- 
ling the  Russian  treaty.  To  be  sure,  he  called  you 
a  Ganymede,  whatever  he  meant,  and  you  think  he 
thought  there  was  something  funny  in  the  way  you 
led  him  through  the  wrong  door  when  he  had  the  for- 
eign army  at  his  heels  and  you  did  not  know  that  fact. 

There  are  several  fine  mixes,  besides  any  that  you 
have  engineered,  and  some  of  them  did  not  have  any 
Secretary  Seward  at  hand  to  mend  them.  It  is  a 
grand  good  thing,  this  official  reception,  when  at 
last  it  is  over;  but  it  is  no  ball,  no  party — nothing 
but  a  jam. 


I98     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

"Stanton  says  that  this  is  the  darkest  day  of  the 
whole  war.  It  seems  almost  as  if  the  bottom  had 
fallen  out." 

A  dark  day,  and  the  gloom  of  it  seems  to  come 
drifting,  fog-like,  across  the  lines  of  fortifications  and 
over  the  Potomac  and  up  the  Mall,  and  to  settle  in 
a  dense  black  cloud  upon  the  White  House  head- 
quarters of  the  Commander-in-Chief.  All  day  long 
there  has  been  a  rain  of  dispatches  to  the  War  Of- 
fice from  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  telling  of  the 
net  results  of  the  battle  of  Chancellorsville.  Mr. 
Lincoln  has  been  there  part  of  the  time,  reading 
them  as  they  came  in,  and,  before  and  since,  they 
have  been  sent  over  here,  until  it  seems  now  as  if 
the  White  House  were  on  the  battle-field,  or  as  if  the 
wounded  had  been  brought  and  laid  in  the  East 
Room,  while  the  dead  were  heaped  up  on  the  Mall. 
There  are  burial  parties  at  work  there  with  lanterns; 
but  they  are  mostly  Confederate  soldiers,  for  the 
enemy  won  the  field  and  hold  it,  and  our  boys  were 
forced  back  with  such  losses  as  will  fill  the  North- 
land with  mourning.  All  the  members  of  the  Cab- 
inet have  been  here,  and  some  few  Senators  and 
Congressmen,  and  a  number  of  military  and  naval 
officers,  but  the  house  has  been  closed  to  the  general 
run  of  visitors. 

Meals  are  eaten,  perhaps  —  nobody  has  a  clear 
idea  whether  he  has  or  has  not  eaten — and  the  per- 
functory office  work  has  gone  on,  after  a  fashion, 
very  much  as  things  are  done  in  any  other  family 
when  there  is  a  coffin  in  the  house — the  coffin  of  a 
sudden  death. 


A   VIGIL   AND   A   VICTORY.  I99 

Once  more,  as  at  Fredericksburg,  the  Union  losses 
have  been  fifty  per  cent,  greater  than  those  of  the 
Confederates,  and  yet  the  old,  terrible  arithmetic  is 
as  hideously  true  as  ever.  If  they  lost  12,000  while 
we  lost  17,000 — some  say  it  is  worse  than  that  for 
both  sides — we  can  afford  the  seventeen  better  than 
they  can  the  twelve.  Lee  has  now  little  more  than 
50,000  men  that  he  can  put  in  line  to-morrow,  and 
we  can  double  that  number.  We  can  fight  four  more 
Chancellorsvilles,  and  then  march  into  Richmond, 
unopposed,  with  a  larger  army  than  that  which  now 
defends  it. 

What  will  the  country  say  ?  Will  it  sustain  the 
Administration  in  this  hour  of  distress  and  disaster  ? 
Will  it  understand  how  this  thing  came  to  pass,  or 
will  it  back  down  under  the  blow  ? 

As  to  a  large  part  of  it,  read,  if  you  will,  two-thirds 
of  this  huge  mass  of  correspondence  upon  the  table. 
Every  letter  was  written  before  the  fight  was  lost, 
yet  every  writer,  man  or  woman,  writes  as  if  this 
day's  reports  had  already  been  printed.  These  are 
the  angry  or  the  heart-broken  echoes  of  the  old  de- 
feats. What  echoes  will  be  aroused  by  the  rever- 
berations now  going  out  from  the  terrible  check  of 
Fighting  Joe  Hooker's  splendid  army  !  Will  the 
people  lay  the  blame  on  Joe  Hooker  ?  About  as 
much  of  it  as  they  have  heretofore  laid  upon  other 
generals;  and  when  they  at  all  blame  him  they  will 
also  curse  the  President  that  Hooker  was  in  com- 
mand. 

This  stack  is  from  people  who  demand  the  rein- 
statement of  McClellan,  and  it  is  not  large  compared 


200     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

to  another  of  the  same  sort,  which  will  quickly  cram 
the  White  House  mail-bag.  The  President  is  told, 
in  every  form  of  vehement  denunciation,  that  the 
country  will  no  longer  endure  his  Abolition  fanati- 
cism, and  the  greedy  ambition  with  which,  for  his 
own  personal  aggrandizement,  he  has  shelved  the 
best  and  most  trusted  Union  general,  to  put  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  into  the  hands  of  incapable, 
second-rate  men,  fit  only,  at  the  best,  to  carry  out 
such  orders  as  would  be  given  by  the  hero  of  the 
Peninsula  and  of  the  Antietam. 

Will  he  see  or  read  any  of  these  letters  ?  Will  he 
be  informed  of  their  contents  ? 

Well,  if  you  feel  like  going  over  to  his  room  with 
half  a  bushel  of  them,  you  may  go.  Tell  him  you  have 
about  a  bushel  more  to  open  and  read  before  you  can 
go  home,  and  that  most  of  them  curse  him.  There 
is  one,  now,  that  you  might  carry  with  the  others. 
There  are  blots  and  blisters  on  its  white  envelope. 
In  fact,  it  is  one  of  quite  a  handful,  and  you  might  do 
well  to  show  them  all  to  him  first,  before  he  reads 
the  half-bushel. 

You  are  crying  over  it  yourself?  Well,  such  a 
day  as  this  a  cry  would  be  a  grand  good  thing  for 
Lincoln,  if  he  could  get  one.  You  need  to  read  only 
one  passage: 

"He  was  my  only  son.  He  fell  at  Fredericksburg. 
It  was  so  hard,  so  long  before  I  could  feel  recon- 
ciled. Oh,  Mr.  Lincoln,  God  help  you  in  your  trial 
as  he  has  helped  me  in  mine.  I  shall  pray  for  you, 
day  and  night.  Be  very  strong  and  courageous,  and 
He  will  bring  us  through." 


A   VIGIL   AND   A   VICTORY.  201 

Are  there  any  more  like  that  ? 

Plenty  of  them  !  Men  and  women  who  cry  unto 
God  da}-  and  night,  and  who  do  not  grudge  the  cost 
of  this  great  struggle  for  the  life  of  the  nation.  They 
believe  that  God's  Country,  as  the  soldiers  call  it,  is 
worth  anything  they  have  to  give  for  it. 

These  letters  must  all  lie  here,  for  Halleck  and 
Stanton  are  with  the  President  again. 

They  have  gone  at  last,  and  it  is  getting  late  in  the 
evening  ?  Well,  even  if  he  is  alone  in  his  room,  there 
is  quite  enough  with  him,  to-night. 

Everybody  else  has  gone,  and  the  house  grows  ten- 
fold more  somber  and  funereal  in  this  boding,  brood- 
ing silence,  as  the  heaped-up  mail  slowly  diminishes. 
An  unusually  large  number  of  the  papers  accumu- 
lated really  require  careful  reading  and  reference,  and 
the  task  will  not  be  finished  speedily.  Look  at  your 
watch  and  see  what  time  it  is.  Nine  o'clock  of  the 
night  after  Chancellorsville;  but  the  moans  of  the 
wounded  cannot  be  heard  so  far  as  this,  and  the  si- 
lence is  so  deep  that  you  can  hear  your  watch  tick  as 
you  hold  it  up. 

And  now  you  are  suddenly  aware  of  another 
sound,  slower  than  the  ticking  of  the  watch,  but  al- 
most as  regular  and  as  painfully  unbroken.  It  is  a 
dull,  muffled  sound,  which  at  any  other  hour  could 
hardly  be  heard  across  the  hall.  It  comes  from  Mr. 
Lincoln's  room,  and  Stanton  must  have  left  the  door 
ajar  when  he  came  out.  Every  man  who  has  left 
that  room  to-day  came  out  stepping  softly,  as  men 
will  step  in  homes  where  the  undertaker  is  known  to 
be  quickly  coming.     Such  faces  !  and  the  strongest 


202     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

and  the  sternest  were  the  saddest.  There  have  been 
stories  told,  too,  of  the  groups  around  the  bulletin 
boards  in  the  city,  and  your  heart  goes  out  to  the 
volunteer  on  crutches  who  stood  and  read  and  wept, 
and  said  to  the  black  bulletin: 

"  I  wish  I'd  ha'  been  there!  They  could  ha'  had 
the  other  leg !  The  boys  fit  well,  anyhow,  or  there 
wouldn't  ha'  been  so  many  of  'em  killed." 

But  that  sound,  the  slow,  heavy,  regular  tread  of 
the  President's  feet,  pacing  up  and  down  in  his  room, 
and  thinking  of  Chancellorsville  !  A  man's  tread 
may  well  be  heavy  when  there  is  such  a  load  upon 
his  shoulders  as  Lincoln  is  carrying.  Add  to  it  the 
load  upon  his  heart,  and — well,  there  is  no  need  for 
him  to  read  any  of  these  letters.  He  knows  before- 
hand all  that  there  is  in  them,  of  every  kind,  and  he 
can  hear  already  the  voices  which  are  to  come,  as 
plainly  as  he  can  hear,  in  his  heart,  the  thunder 
of  the  Union  and  Confederate  guns,  and  the  shrieks 
and  the  groans  that  arise  on  the  lost  battle-field.  It 
has  been  a  costly  victory  for  the  Confederates. 
Whether  men  will  believe  it  or  not,  it  has  been  a  se- 
vere blow  to  Lee's  army.  As  his  resources  are  to 
be  rightly  counted,  every  battle  he  fights  brings  him 
nearer  his  final  defeat.  His  only  hope  is  in  a  defen- 
sive policy,  keeping  in  the  field  as  few  men  as  may 
be,  and  at  as  small  an  outlay;  for  the  Confederacy 
is  bleeding  to  death,  while  the  North  is  growing  in 
wealth  and  population  day  by  day.  The  President 
thoroughly  understands  that.  Can  he  be  dwelling 
upon  it  now,  as  he  strides  so  unrestingly  up  and 
down  his  room  ?     Is  there  anything  in  his  past,  or  in 


A  VIGIL  AND  A  VICTORY.  203 

his  present,  or  in  his  future,  which  he  can  possibly 
fail  to  think  of,  in  this  his  furnace,  heated  seven 
times  hotter  than  usual  ? 

Ten  o'clock — and  now  and  then  there  have  been 
momentary  breaks,  as  if  he  paused  in  turning  at  the 
wall ;  but  no  pause  has  lasted  longer  than  for  a  few 
heart-beats. 

It  is  well  that  there  is  enough  in  these  papers  to 
keep  one  busy,  with  that  muffled  thud,  crunch, 
creak,  thud,  falling  upon  his  ears,  like  waves  upon  a 
beach  after  a  shipwreck. 

Eleven  o'clock — and  it  is  as  if  a  more  silent  kind 
of  silence  had  been  obtained  and  supplied,  for  the 
tread  can  be  heard  more  distinctly,  and  a  sort  of 
thrill  comes  with  it  now  and  then. 

Twelve  ?  Why,  it  is  midnight,  and  there  is  yet  a 
pile  of  work  on  the  table.  Some  of  it  lay  over  from 
yesterday,  but  it  must  all  be  finished  now,  before 
another  mail  shall  bring  the  tidal  wave  of  objurga- 
tion which  must  surely  follow  this  Chancellorsville 
hurricane. 

There  has  been  no  sound  from  the  President's 
room  for  a  number  of  minutes,  and  he  may  be  rest- 
ing in  his  chair  or  writing.  No;  there  it  comes 
again,  that  mournfully  monotonous  tread,  with  its 
turnings  at  the  wall. 

One  o'clock,  and  you  have  become  so  accustomed 
to  it  that  you  hear  it  only  when  you  lift  your  head 
from  your  work  to  listen;  but  you  hear  it,  then. 

Two  o'clock  comes,  without  another  break  in 
the  steady  tramp  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  lonely  vigil. 

Three  o'clock  arrives,  and  your  task  is   done,  and 


204     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

you  pass  out  almost  stealthily;  but  you  turn  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs  to  hearken,  and  then  the  last 
sound  in  your  ears,  as  you  go  down,  is  the  muffled 
beat  of  that  foot-fall. 

You  go  to  your  home,  to  lie  down  for  awhile,  but 
not  to  sleep,  and  you  are  up  again  for  an  early  bath 
and  breakfast.  Before  eight  o'clock  of  the  morning 
you  are  once  more  in  the  White  House. 

We  will  look  in  at  the  President's  room  as  we  go 
by.  He  is  there  still,  and  there  is  nothing  to  indi- 
cate that  he  has  been  out  of  it.  He  has  had  his 
breakfast  brought  in,  as  he  sometimes  does,  and  it 
has  been  placed  upon  the  long  table.  He  is  eating 
heartily,  and  he  seems  unexpectedly  bright  and 
cheerful.  Did  his  watch  last  until  his  prophetic  eyes 
could  see  the  dawn,  and  until  the  rising  sun  at  last 
looked  in  upon  him  ? 

There  is  no  doubt  of  it;  for  there,  upon  the  tabic, 
beside  his  cup  of  coffee  lies  the  draft  of  his  fresh  in- 
structions to  General  Hooker,  bidding  him  to  push 
forward  without  any  reference  to  Chancellorsvillc. 
They  are  orders,  moreover,  which  must  be  vigor- 
ously obeyed,  or  some  other  general,  Meade,  for 
instance,  will  be  put  in  command  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  for  their  fulfillment. 

There  has  been  a  memorable  all-night  vigil;  a 
battle  for  the  national  life;  a  terrible  struggle  with 
discouragement  and  despair;  but  God  has  been  with 
the  President,  and  he  has  gained  a  victory.  I  lis  face 
and  voice,  as  he  returns  your  greeting,  declare  that, 
in  some  inscrutable  manner,  the  load  has  been  light- 
ened from  his  heart  and  brain. 


A  VIGIL  AND   A  VICTORY.  205 

The  world  will  never  know,  nor  would  it  acknowl- 
edge the  fact,  but  the  victory  gained  for  the  Union 
cause,  last  night,  will  soon  be  known  in  history  as 
the  battle  of  Gettysburg. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

JULY    4TH,   1863. 

TTE  is  a  statesman  and  an  orator,  and  his  response 
emphasizes  a  request  already  brought  you  by 
a  committee  from  a  public  meeting  of  dispirited 
citizens,  that  the  celebration  should  be  given  up.  It 
was  a  more  hopeful  assembly  which  in  the  first  place 
determined  to  have  one,  and  made  you  chairman  of 
the  general  Fourth  of  July  Committee.  You  now 
repeat  to  the  despondent  statesman  the  reply  you 
made  to  the  representative  of  the  wet  -  blanket 
meeting : 

"  Sir,  there  will  be  a  Fourth  of  July  celebration  in 
Washington  this  year,  if  we  can  hear  Lee's  cannon 
all  the  while,  and  if  we  adjourn  from  the  speaker's 
stand  to  the  trenches  !  " 

The  Mall  below  the  White  House  is  a  capital 
place  for  a  speaker's  stand,  and  the  Commissioner 
of  Public  Buildings  gives  you  permission  to  do  any- 
thing you  please  with  it.  So  does  the  President. 
You  have  secured  the  Marine  Band,  of  course.  It 
is  accustomed  to  play  upon  the  White  House 
grounds  and  does  not  care  what  day  it  may  be. 
General  Martindale,  in  command  of  the  city,  is  an 
old  friend,  and  he  is  full  of  Fourth  of  July. 

"  My  dear  boy  !  Certainly  !  I've  a  lot  of  batter- 
ies and  cavalry  and  infantry  to  move  up  the  river. 

206 


JULY   4.TII,    1S63.  207 

I'll  fix  you.  Give  you  another  band,  too.  Go 
ahead !  Going  to  have  it  01a  the  White  House 
grounds  ?  Best  place  in  the  world  for  Fourth  of  July 
this  year.  Meade's  going  to  whip  Lee  out  of  his 
boots ! " 

Other  preparations  go  on  apace,  but  the  summer 
days  grow  lurid  with  intense  heat  and  the  pressure 
of  terrible  suspense.  The  White  House  seems  a 
furnace,  and  the  entire  city  takes  on  more  perfectly 
than  ever  before  the  air  belonging  to  its  real  char- 
acter of  a  frontier  post  in  peril  of  capture  by  the 
enemy. 

"  If  Meade  is  defeated,  he  will  strike  at  Baltimore 
and  we  shall  be  cut  off? " 

"  No,  Mrs.  Lincoln,  all  that's  left  of  him  after 
beating  Meade  will  be  too  lame  to  march  as  far  as 
Baltimore." 

"  Mr.  Lincoln  is  positive  that  Lee  will  be  defeated. 
He  says  the  crisis  has  come  and  that  all  the  chances 
are  on  our  side.  This  move  of  Lee's  is  all  he  could 
ask  for. .   How  does  your  Fourth  of  July  come  on  ?" 

"  All  we  could  ask  for,  but  another  committee  has 
requested  me  to  stop  till  some  time  when  they  are 
not  so  badly  scared." 

"  Don't  you  stop  !  " 

"We  won't,  Mrs.  Lincoln.  I  want  more  flowers, 
though." 

"  I'll  speak  to  the  gardener  !  You  can  have  all  he 
can  find  for  you.     Anything  else  I  can  do?" 

"  No,  unless  you  can  speak  to  Grant  and  Meade 
and  have  them  win  their  victories  on  the  third  so  we 
can  have  a  bigger  Fourth." 


208     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

She  wishes  she  could,  but  her  power  stops  at  the 
flower  point. 

There  was  never  before  such  a  Fourth  of  July  in 
Washington  !  The  stand  on  the  Mall  is  just  where 
it  should  be,  this  hot,  bright,  zenith  day  of  the  year 
1863. 

Twelve  councils  of  the  Union  League  ?  Masons  ? 
Odd  Fellows  ?  Turners  ?  Other  societies  ?  Citizens  ? 
Distinguished  men  ?  What  a  procession  !  The  Ma- 
rine Band  and  the  marines.  Regiment  after  reg- 
iment sweeps  down  the  avenue,  between  the  long 
files  of  the  division  which  has  been  halted  at  pa- 
rade rest  along  the  curbstones  on  either  side.  How 
well  the  cavalry  look,  and  the  artillery  !  It  is  brill- 
iant! 

So  it  is,  and  the  really  local  Washington  City  part 
of  the  procession  is  large  enough  to  throng  the  Mall, 
but  the  cavalry  and  infantry  and  artillery  marching 
with,  or  before,  or  forming  behind,  the  civil  show, 
march  on  up  the  river,  for  they  are  a  part  of  the  sec- 
ond army  which  the  President  has  been  gathering 
to  confront  Lee  with,  in  case  the  first  should  prove 
insufficient  to  stem  his  crazy  invasion. 

Insufficient  ?  Can  anybody  measure  the  fierce 
intoxication  of  this  Fourth  of  July  celebration,  with 
the  news  from  Vicksburg  and  from  Gettysburg  thun- 
dering in  the  ears  and  thrilling  the  hearts  of  men  ? 
All  the  cannon  here  seem  to  sound  like  so  many 
fire-crackers,  and  yet  they  all  seem  to  roar  with 
joy  to  hear  what  the  other  Union  cannon  have  been 
doing. 

Very  decidedly  it  was    a    good  thing  to  have  a 


THE  RAID   WHICH   DID   NOT  COME  ! 


JULY  4TII,    1863.  209 

celebration  of  the  Fourth  this  year,  and  to  hold  it 
in  Washington,  and  to  have  it  concentrate  upon  the 
grounds  of  the  President's  house. 

As  for  us,  we  shall  be  so  entirely  used  up  that  in 
a  few  days  we  shall  take  a  vacation  and  go  North. 
We  do  not  actually  travel  on  Sunday,  but  a  Sunday- 
night  train  from  Washington  lands  a  passenger  in 
New  York  City  very  early  on  Monday  morning.  A 
strange  collection  of  passengers  there  is  sure  to  be, 
moreover,  upon  any  train,  by  day  or  night,  running 
along  this  main  pathway  between  the  North  and  the 
Capital  and  the  army.  It  is  not  only  all  the  United 
States  but  almost  all  the  earth  that  is  represented 
in  these  human  car-loads  from  time  to  time.  The 
cars  are  hot  and  uncomfortable,  and  there  is  a  keen 
sense  of  relief  in  getting  out  of  them  to  smell  the 
salt  air  brought  up  from  the  Bay  by  the  light  wind 
that  is  blowing. 

The  Astor  House  is  the  best  and  nearest  place  to 
go  to  for  an  early  breakfast,  and  we  can  read  the 
morning  papers  while  we  sip  our  coffee.  There  has 
been  an  idea  floating  around  the  White  House 
that  if  there  is  to  be  any  outburst  in  connection 
with  the  enforcement  of  the  draft,  it  will  be  more 
likely  to  take  plaoe  in  New  York  than  anywhere 
else.  It  is  pleasant,  therefore,  to  open  your  favor- 
ite journal  and  to  learn  that  the  draft  began  here 
on  Saturday,  and  went  on  to  the  close  of  the  day 
without  any  disturbance  whatever. 

"  What  did  you  say,  Colonel  ?" 

"  Say?  Why,  there  will  be  a  rising  of  the  mob 
to-day,  beyond  a  question  !     There  have  been  cau- 


210     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

cuses  on  Sunday,  too,  of  army  officers  in  and  out 
of  service,  and  preparations  are  making  for  calling 
upon  all  the  militia  who  did  not  go  on  the  Gettys- 
burg campaign  excursion,  and  all  the  disbanded 
volunteers  in  the  city,  to  come  out  to  the  assistance 
of  the  police.  Every  man  of  them  will  be  needed. 
So  will  all  the  troops  in  all  the  forts,  and  all  the  sea- 
men and  marines  who  can  be  spared  from  the  ships 
in  the  harbor." 

"  If  that's  the  case,  Colonel,  I  must  join  the  first 
company  of  volunteers  that  gets  together." 

"  Come  right  along,  but  street  fighting  is  likely  to 
be  hard  fighting." 

The  truth  of  the  soldier's  remark  is  manifested, 
hour  after  hour,  through  all  of  this  terrible  Monday. 
One  alarm  of  fire  rings  out  after  another,  a  fresh 
conflagration  every  hour  by  the  clock.  The  police 
are  reported  beaten  and  driven  in  many  places.  So 
are  the  hastily  gathered  soldiery.  The  pit  itself 
seems  to  have  broken  up  and  out  into  the  streets 
of  New  York.  Is  this  what  General  Lee  counted 
upon  when  he  led  his  splendid  army  across  the  Po- 
tomac ?  If  so,  his  movement  was  none  the  less  a 
military  and  political  blunder.  If  he  had  beaten 
Meade  he  would  still  have  been  confronted  by  fresh 
forces  exceeding  his  own,  and  while  his  diminished 
numbers,  even  in  victory  after  victory,  would  surely 
have  melted  away,  the  report  of  this  carnival  of  riot, 
murder,  arson,  inconceivable  depravity  and  cruelty 
and  destructiveness  would  but  have  aroused  to  a 
more  fierce  and  furious  energy  the  fighting  blood  oi 
all  the  indignant  North. 


JULY    4TII,    1863.  211 

General  Lee  may  have  looked  forward  to  impor- 
tant help  and  cooperation  from  Northern  discontent 
and  sedition,  but  here,  in  the  midst  of  these  hot  days 
of  wrath  and  riot,  he  or  any  other  honorable  soldier 
may  well  be  acquitted  of  an  intentional  alliance  with 
the  savages  who  are  going  down  so  fast  before  the 
clubs  of  the  Metropolitans,  the  rifles  of  the  volunteers, 
militia,  marines  and  regulars,  and  the  storms  of 
grape  and  canister  which  have  pitilessly  torn  through 
more  than  one  of  these  seething,  surging  avenues, 
for  the  mob  also  is  utterly  defeated. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE  CONTRABANDS  AND  THE  NEW  CAPTAIN. 

T^HE  colored  people  are  not  citizens  yet,  and  they 
*  have  no  idea  that  they  are,  or  that  they  are 
ever  to  become  full-fledged  human  beings.  If  you 
talk  with  one  of  them,  the  more  intelligent  your  se- 
lection may  be  the  more  quickly  you  will  probably 
discover  a  peculiarly  dazed, uncertain,  half-frightened 
mental  condition.  It  is  the  state  of  unfortunates  who 
cannot  formulate  any  defined  idea  of  the  life  upon 
which  they  have  so  wonderfully  and  unexpectedly 
been  forced  to  enter.  Your  next  catch,  after  that 
experiment,  should  be  a  white  man,  and  in  him  you 
will  discover  a  strictly  correspondent  mixed  and 
cloudy  conception  of  the  future  state,  upon  this  earth, 
of  this  race  which  is  now  no  longer  merely  "  contra- 
band of  war."  A  marked  symptom  or  feature  of  this 
indicated  bewilderment  of  the  liberated  bondmen  and 
bondwomen,  is  that  so  very  few  of  them  seek  an  op- 
portunity for  a  look  at,  or  a  word  with,  the  Presiden- 
tial Moses  who  has  set  them  free.  To  most  of  them 
he  is  as  a  myth,  or,  at  least,  as  a  superior  being,  a 
demigod  so  exalted  that  they  have  no  business  with 
him  in  the  flesh.  They  are  not  afraid  of  him  person- 
ally, but  they  are  very  much  afraid  of  this  new  order 
of  things.     At  all  events,  there  are  few  black  men 

212 


CONTRABANDS  AND  TDK  NEW  CAPTAIN.       213 

among  the  tide  of  citizens  which  sets  toward  and 
into  the  White  House. 

Free,  as  loosened  cattle  are  free,  but  not  as  men 
and  women  are  free,  are  these  multitudes  who  can 
no  longer  be  bought  or  sold,  but  who  are  as  yet  de- 
nied the  right  to  vote,  and  the  right  to  be  killed  in 
battle.  There  is,  at  least,  one  man  who  perceives 
clearly  that  the  latter  right  must  precede  the  former 
in  its  acquisition,  and  there  are  others  in  whose 
minds  the  perception  is  growing  rapidly.  As  yet  the 
vast  mass  of  the  population  supposed  to  be  most 
deeply  concerned  in  the  Emancipation  Proclamation 
dwells  south  of  the  army  lines,  but  from  the  very 
beginning  of  this  revolution  large  numbers  of  them 
from  time  to  time  broke  through.  So  many  drifted 
into  Washington  City  and  its  vicinity,  in  a  vague 
search  after  somebody  to  care  for  them,  that  it  was 
necessary  to  corral  them,  and  what  is  termed  the 
"  Contraband  Camp  "  grew  to  its  present  proportions 
upon  some  vacant  land  northward,  just  beyond  the 
corporation  limits. 

It  is  a  place  much  visited  by  the  charitable  and 
the  curious,  and  particularly  by  grim  old  Abolition- 
ists, of  both  sexes,  from  the  North.  As  one  of  them 
feelingly  remarked,  "  It  beats  the  Underground  Rail- 
way all  hollow  !  What  could  the  Fugitive  Slave 
Law  do  with  this  here  collection?" 

It  is  mainly  by  the  enthusiastic  efforts  of  these 
triumphantly  sincere  friends  of  the  African  that  there 
is  to  be  a  grand  celebration  at  the  Contraband  Camp, 
on  Thanksgiving  Day,  this  year,  1863.  There  will 
be  a  dinner  and  speeches,  and  all  the  available  con- 


214    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

trabands  of  the  District  of  Columbia  and  of  Maryland 
will  come  flocking  in  to  promote  the  jollity  of  the 
occasion. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Senator?  A  speech  to 
the  contrabands  on  Thanksgiving  Day  ?  To-morrow  ? 
And  here  it  is  almost  supper-time.  Don't  you  think 
you  are  giving  too  long  a  notice  ? " 

"  It  can't  be  helped.  I've  seen  Lincoln,  and  he 
can't  come,  and  there's  got  to  be  something  there 
from  the  White  House.  You  must  look  as  much  like 
Lincoln  as  you  can.  Talk  about  anything  you 
please." 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Senator.     I'll  be  there  !" 

Who  would  have  thought  that  the  White  House 
latch-key  would  open  the  door  of  the  Contraband 
Camp,  but  here  we  are !  After  all,  is  it  not  almost 
as  truly  pitched  upon  the  White  House  grounds  as 
if  they  had  fenced  in  the  Mall  for  its  accommodation  ? 
All  those  people  are  really  gathered  into  the  Pres- 
ident's backyard,  and  are  waiting  to  see  what  he 
will  do  with  them. 

There  is  a  pretty  wide  reach  of  land  fenced  in, 
with  a  tight  barrier  of  six-foot  pine  boards  to  keep 
out,  for  instance,  any  attempt  on  the  part  of  the 
Fugitive  Slave  Law  to  play  wolf  with  the  sheep  of 
this  fold.  Along  the  further  side  is  a  range  of  shed- 
like  structures,  under  cover  of  which  hundreds  after 
hundreds  arc  eating  their  first  Thanksgiving  Dinner. 
We  need  not  go  over  there,  for  here,  at  the  right,  is 
a  rude  plank  platform,  with  scats  as  rough  upon  it, 
and  on  the  seats  there  are  already  gathered  a  score 
of  dignitaries.     The   colored    Methodist   Bishop  of 


CONTRABANDS  AND  THE  NEW  CAPTAIN.       215 

this  charge  is  there,  and  with  him  are  the  few  Sen- 
ators and  Congressmen  who  even  now  are  proud  to 
call  themselves  Abolitionists.  What  a  nervous  hor- 
ror of  stigma  used  to  attach  to  that  term !  It  in- 
cluded several  of  the  keenest  reproaches  which  could 
be  heaped  upon  a  politician,  and  now  to  these  seems 
to  be  added :  "  You  are  the  men  who  brought  on 
this  bloody  and  disastrous  Civil  War  !" 

A  few  very  brave  women  are  also  there,  but  the 
interest  at  this  point  hardly  concentrates  upon  the 
platform,  for  before  it  the  ex-contrabands  are  gath- 
ering. What  a  marvelous  multitude  it  is  !  Some 
say  5,000  and  some  say  10,000,  but  who  shall  count 
them,  as  they  press  closer  and  closer  to  be  sure  of 
hearing !  There  are  brief  opening  exercises,  con- 
ducted by  a  Senator,  aided  by  the  Bishop  and  an- 
other colored  celebrity,  and  now — but  who  can  think 
of  anything  to  say,  or  say  it  to  this  assembly  ?  The 
Senator  did  but  say  "  Lincoln,"  and  something  else, 
as  you  step  forward,  and  from  all  this  sea  of  black 
and  brown  and  yellow  faces  there  seems  to  arise  a 
laugh  that  is  almost  a  yell.  It  surely  is  not  articu- 
late, but  it  ends  in  "  Bress  de  Lord!"  from  a  shrill, 
musical,  penetrating  voice  of  some  excited  black 
woman.  It  is  not  worth  while  to  talk  to  those  peo- 
ple about  their  past — not  to  any  length,  at  least, 
when  all  they  or  we  care  about  is  their  future.  Let 
us  see  how  they  would  greet  the  idea  of  becoming 
soldiers,  since  two-thirds  of  them  are  men  capable 
of  service.  Lead  them  on  to  it,  in  your  talk,  and 
then  ask  them  if,  having  been  given  their  freedom, 
they  are  willing  to  fight  for  it  and  for  the  hope  of 


2l6     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

manhood.  Arc  they  going  crazy,  as  you  go  on? 
What  is  the  meaning  of  the  hoarse  shouts,  the  wild 
laughter,  the  guttural  exclamations,  the  grating 
teeth,  the  frantic  gesticulations,  the  fierce,  lurid, 
gleaming  faces  ? 

"Gibus  dem  guns!  Let's  have  dem  bay'nets ! 
We'll  show  yo\  marssa  !  Gib  us  dem  guns  !  We's 
ready!     Whar's  de  guns?" 

Are  you  also  going  crazy  ?  Or  has  only  the  fire  in 
their  semi-barbaric  veins  leaped  over  into  your  own, 
to  tell  you  that  you  are  descended  from  Norse- 
Saxon  pirates  as  savage  as  any  from  Congo  or 
Ashantee  ? 

It  is  over,  and  it  is  time  to  go  back  into  the  White 
House,  but  have  we  really  been  out  of  it  ?  Is  not 
this  a  part  of  the  work  that  has  been  going  on  at  the 
littered  old  desk,  by  the  south  window,  over  in  Lin- 
coln's room  ? 

Perhaps,  but  there  will  not  be  many  days  to  wait 
before  the  pen  busy  at  that  desk  will  sign  the  need- 
ful orders  for  the  organization  of  many  regiments  of 
just  such  men  as  went  mad  over  the  offer  of  weapons 
on  Thanksgiving  Day  at  the  Contraband  Camp. 
Not  long  afterward,  truly,  it  must  once  more  be 
busied  with  an  indignant  defense  of  its  first  action 
— with  more  than  one  defense  of  the  plain  common 
sense  which  decides  that  if  so  many  men  must  die 
in  any  battle,  he  is  not  precisely  the  best  friend  of 
white  fathers  and  mothers  who  shall  demand  that 
the  boys  to  die  must  all  be  of  pure  Caucasian  blood. 

Nobody  knows  what  malaria  is,  but  there  has  al- 


CONTRABANDS  AND  THE  NEW  C ATTAIN.       217 

ways  been  a  great  deal  of  it  in  and  around  the 
White  House.  Some  of  it  has  been  social ;  more  of 
it  has  been  moral,  according  to  some  accounts  ;  and 
the  amount  of  political  malaria,  of  all  sorts,  has  been 
beyond  calculation,  from  the  roofing  of  the  house 
until  now.  It  is  said  that  great  parties  have  sicken- 
ed and  died  of  the  poisonous  atmosphere  they 
breathed  when  they  came  to  Washington,  and  that 
their  worst  fevers  were  contracted  at  and  about  this 
place — chills,  too.  As  for  any  other  malaria,  the  caus- 
es of  it  are  not  difficult  to  find.  When  the  first  at- 
tempt was  made  to  bridge  the  Potomac,  where  the 
Long  Bridge  is  at  present,  the  builders  economical- 
ly began  by  running  out  a  solid  causeway  from  each 
bank  so  as  to  diminish  the  number  of  piles  and  piers 
to  be  employed  for  the  remainder  of  the  viaduct. 
They  thereby  engineered  a  pair  of  bars,  the  longest 
on  this  side,  against  which  the  muddy  waters  of  the 
Potomac  might  deposit  any  stuff,  floating  or  in  solu- 
tion, which  came  down-stream  with  them. 

We  are  not  above  tide-water  here,  and  there  is  no 
current  to  speak  of  at  high  tide,  while  at  low  tide  the 
flats  are  bared  for  wide  reaches.  One  of  those  flats 
begins  on  the  Mall,  down  there,  at  the  line  of  shrub- 
bery, and  its  other  border  is  in  the  middle  of  the  river. 
They  selected  the  site  for  the  Washington  Mon- 
ument upon  that  very  gentle  slope,  because  it  was  a 
better  place  for  an  ideal  graveyard  than  it  could  ever 
become  for  the  residences  of  the  living.  Upon  the 
part  of  that  flat  which  is  under  water,  the  Potomac 
continually  deposits  such  material  as  any  decent 
river  might  wish  to  be  relieved  of,  and  in  course  of 


218     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  TN  WAR  TIMES. 

time  an  ooze  has  been  developed  which  can  testify 
its  peculiar  qualities  to  the  best  advantage  when  the 
river  is  low  and  the  tide  is  out,  and  there  is  a  gentle, 
balmy  south  wind  blowing.  Then,  sometimes,  you 
do  not  imagine  that  some  careless  person  has  left 
open  the  door  of  the  conservatory.  Everybody  who 
spends  much  time  in  the  White  House  is  certain  to 
suffer  more  or  less.  To  be  sure,  the  President  has 
had  only  the  smallpox,  but  he  was  well  seasoned 
before  he  came,  and  he  is  too  full  of  anxiety,  all  the 
while,  for  a  different  kind  of  fever  to  get  into  him. 
Mrs.  Lincoln  has  suffered  in  ways  which  have  no 
chronicle,  and  little  Tad  has  undoubtedly  been  in- 
jured so  that  his  constitution  will  not  recover.  Wil- 
lie Wallace  Lincoln  died  of  it.  The  private  secre- 
taries were  all  tough,  healthy  fellows,  pretty  well 
seasoned,  but  they  have  had  sharp  down-turns  to 
wrestle  with. 

"  Did  you  say  that  this  is  the  typhoid  fever,  doc- 
tor ?     Why,  that's  worse  than  last  year's  business." 

"  It  can't  be  helped.  It  comes  from  the  flats  along 
the  Potomac,  below  the  White  House." 

"  Do  you  think  I  can  get  well  ?" 

"  You  lie  still,  and  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think  when 
I  see  you  up  again." 

He  is  a  capital  physician.  He  is  a  Russian-Ger- 
man, of  high  professional  standing,  and  you  have  an 
idea  that  he  is  in  doubt  about  your  case.  Not  until 
he  sees  you  out  again  will  he  tell  you  that  you  must 
get  away  from  Washington,  and  that  you  will  prob- 
ably never  get  the  poison  entirely  out  of  you — not  if 
you  live  a  hundred  years.     It  is  the  only  part  of  your 


CONTRABANDS  AND  THE  NEW  CAPTAIN.       2IO. 

Washington  earnings  which  will  stick,  that  and  your 
latch-key,  and  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  lie  as 
still  as  you  can,  through  these  long,  delirious,  wea- 
risome spring  days  of  1864,  while  General  Grant  is 
getting  settled  as  commander,  under  the  President, 
of  all  the  armies,  and  particularly  as  commander  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  Sherman  is  taking  charge 
in  the  West,  and  is  preparing  to  leave  Thomas  be- 
hind him  to  care  for  Hood,  while  he  and  some  of  his 
men  walk  across  Georgia  to  the  seashore. 

"  You  are  up  at  last " 

"  I  can  walk,  doctor,  and  I'm  going  to  walk  as  far 
as  the  White  House." 

It  is  Sunday,  and  we  can  visit  the  headquarters 
with  a  better  chance  for  a  chat  with  the  Commander- 
in-Chief. 

Walk  right  in,  and  take  your  time  in  getting  up- 
stairs. 

Nobody  in  the  northeast  room  ?  Reckon  Hay  or 
somebody  had  the  care  of  the  mail.  It  isn't  more 
than  a  third  as  large  as  it  used  to  be.  All  these  vic- 
tories have  knocked  the  wind  out  of  the  abusive  let- 
ter-writers; and  the  self-appointed  critics  and  advis- 
ers are  either  tired  of  it,  or  they  are  satisfied,  or  they 
are  dead,  and  as  for  the  office-seekers — the  offices 
are  mostly  full.  There  is  nobody  in  Nicolay's  room. 
He  and  Hay  may  have  gone  to  church.  I  heard  them 
say,  once,  that  they  meant  to  go,  some  day.  Hope 
they  haven't  caught  any  typhoid.  Mr.  Lincoln's 
door  is  shut,  but  he  may  be  there;  that's  so,  he  is 
lying  on  the  lounge,  just  as  if  he  were  resting. 

He  is  one  of  the  kindliest  and  most  cordial  of  men. 


220     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

lie  seems  genuinely  glad  to  sec  a  fellow  up  and  out 
again.  It  is  as  good  as  medicine,  too,  to  find  him  so 
cheerful  this  morning.  One  topic  follows  another, 
rapidly. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Lincoln,  what  sort  of  a  man  is  Grant? 
I've  never  even  seen  him.  He  has  taken  hold  here 
while  I  have  been  laid  up.  What  do  you  think  of 
him  ?" 

The  President  half  lay  down  again,  after  you  were 
stretched  out  in  your  chair,  comfortably,  for  a  talk, 
but  now  he  very  nearly  sits  up,  laughing  silently. 

"  Well,  I  hardly  know  what  to  think  of  him,  alto- 
gether. I  never  saw  him,  myself,  till  he  came  here 
to  take  the  command.  He's  the  quietest  little  fellow 
you  ever  saw." 

"  How  is  that,  Mr.  Lincoln?  I'd  another  kind  of 
idea  about  him." 

"Why,  he  makes  the  least  fuss  of  any  man  you 
ever  knew.  I  believe  two  or  three  times  he  has  been 
in  this  room  a  minute  or  so  before  I  knew  he  was 
here.  It's  about  so,  all  around.  The  only  evidence 
you  have  that  he's  in  any  place  is  that  he  makes 
things  git!     Wherever  he  is,  things  move  !" 

Can  it  be  that  at  this  last  Mr.  Lincoln  has  found 
the  very  man  he  has  been  searching  for  ?  The  gen- 
eral who  can  comprehend  the  stern  arithmetic  of  the 
battles  of  this  war  ?  The  leader  who  will  be  uncon- 
scious of  defeat,  and  who  will  rally  his  forces  behind 
the  heaps  of  their  own  dead  and  charge  again?  If 
so,  there  is  no  wonder  that  he  can  lie  here  upon  his 
lounge,  this  sunny  Sunday  afternoon,  with  such  a 
look  of  almost  relief  upon  his  worn  and  wrinkled  face. 


CONTRABANDS  AND  THE  NEW  CArTAIN.       221 

"  But  how  about  Grant's  generalship,  Mr-  Lincoln  ? 
•  Is  he  going"  to  be  the  man,  as  commander  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  ?  " 

Once  more  the  half-reclining  form  comes  up  to  a 
sitting  posture  and  a  long,  bony  forefinger  is  aimed 
at  you. 

"  Grant  is  the  first  general  I've  had  !  He's  a  gen- 
eral !  " 

That  is  a  curious  remark  for  him  to  make,  when 
you  know  how  high  has  been  his  opinion  of  Mc- 
Clellan,  and  Burnside,  and  Hooker,  and  Meade. 

"  How  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Lincoln?  " 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  mean.  You  know  how 
it's  been  with  all  the  rest.  As  soon  as  I  put  a  man 
in  command  of  the  army,  he'd  come  to  me  with  a 
plan  of  campaign  and  about  as  much  as  say,  '  Now, 
I  don't  believe  I  can  do  it,  but  if  you  say  so  I'll  try 
it  on;'  and  so  put  the  responsibility  of  success  or 
failure  on  me.  They  all  wanted  me  to  be  the  gen- 
eral. Now  it  isn't  so  with  Grant.  He  hasn't  told 
me  what  his  plans  are.  I  don't  know,  and  I  don't 
want  to  know.  I'm  glad  to  find  a  man  who  can  go 
ahead  without  me." 

"  He  took  his  own  gait  in  the  West,  Mr.  Lincoln, 
and  he  came  out  pretty  well,  that's  a  fact  ;  but  he 
hasn't  proved,  yet,  that  he  can  handle  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  or  beat  Lee  on  his  own  ground." 

The  President  is  sitting  straight  up,  now,  and  the 
look  is  on  his  face  that  he  used  to  begin  a  story 
with : 

"You  see,  when  any  of  the  rest  set  out  on  a 
campaign,  they'd  look  over  matters  and   pick    out 


222     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

some  one  thing  they  were  short  of  and  they  knew 
I  couldn't  give  'em,  and  tell  me  they  couldn't  hope" 
to  win  unless  they  had  it,  and  it  was  most  gen- 
erally cavalry,"  and  the  long,  quiet  laugh  which  in- 
terrupts his  humorous  commentary  convinces  you 
that  he  is,  indeed,  feeling  vastly  relieved.  "  Now, 
when  Grant  took  hold,  I  was  waiting  to  see  what  his 
pet  impossibility  would  be,  and  I  reckoned  it  would 
be  cavalry,  as  a  matter  of  course,  for  we  hadn't 
horses  enough  to  mount  even  what  men  we  had. 
There  were  15,000  or  thereabouts,  up  near  Harper's 
Ferry,  and  no  horses  to  put  them  on.  Well,  the 
other  day,  just  as  I  expected,  Grant  sent  to  me 
about  those  very  men  ;  but  what  he  wanted  to  know 
was  whether  he  should  disband  'em  or  turn  'em  into 
infantry.  He  doesn't  ask  me  to  do  impossibilities 
for  him,  and  he's  the  first  general  I've  had  that 
didn't." 

Long  years  afterward  Grant  himself  will  listen 
to  a  report  of  this  very  conversation,  and  will  say  : 

"  Well,  it  gives  about  my  idea  of  the  truth  of  what 
they  call  Lincoln's  interference  with  military  plans. 
He  never  interfered  with  me  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

PICTURES   AND    REPORTS. 

DICTURES,  did  you  say?  Memory  pictures  of 
*  things  which  took  place  here  ?  What  are  some 
of  the  prettiest  ?  It  is  not  very  easy  to  say.  There 
are  something  like  a  million  of  them.  There  was 
one  that  came  to  mind,  just  now,  from  a  year 
ago  last  winter.  There  has  been,  from  the  begin- 
ning, such  a  rush  and  crowding  and  grasping  after 
appointments  and  promotions,  and  it  is  all  but  swin- 
ish, just  now  ! 

The  picture  ?  It  is  in  the  middle  reception-room, 
below,  and  it  is  an  evening  brilliant  with  uniforms. 
A  slender,  pleasant-faced  gentleman,  in  full  uniform 
as  a  naval  officer,  is  chatting  for  a  moment  with 
Mrs.  Lincoln,  and  then  he  turns,  with  the  hearty 
freedom  of  something  like  old  personal  friendship, 
but  before  he  can  speak,  your  own  hand  goes  out  to 
him. 

"  Good  evening,  Admiral  Dahlgren.  How  do 
you  do  ?  " 

"What !  Is  that  so  ?  I  had  not  expected  it.  I 
had  not  thought " 

"  The  nomination  went  in  late  to-day,  but  it  is 
all  right,  Admiral!" 

"  The  President  did  it  out  of  his  own  head,"  he 
says,  with  a  face  flushed  with  pride  and  surprise, 

223 


224     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

"  You  are  thinking  of  the  way  the  boy  made  the 
fiddle,  and  he  had  wood  enough  left  to  make  an- 
other ?" 

"  You  are  not  respectful  to  either  the  admiral  or 
Mr.  Lincoln " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am,  Mrs.  Lincoln.  He  has  chosen  the 
best  kind  of  timber  this  time — real  live-oak  !" 

The  newly  made  admiral  is  really  so  affected  that 
he  bows  and  walks  away,  for  he  has  been  bitterly 
abused  and  misrepresented  in  some  quarters,  and 
this  is  the  President's  verdict  in  his  favor,  closing  the 
mouths  of  the  detractors  under  whose  attacks  the 
gallant  but  sensitive  sailor  was  writhing.  You  are 
especially  pleased  about  it,  for  in  the  days  when  he 
commanded  at  the  Navy  Yard  your  visits  there  al- 
ways carried  you  to  the  quarters  for  luncheon,  and 
for  a  chat  about  guns  and  ships. 

The  other  picture  ?  Well,  it  is  suggested,  some- 
how, by  the  memory  of  the  admiral  who  had  not 
expected  his  promotion.  It  is  not  in  the  White 
House,  but  in  a  parlor  of  the  National  Hotel,  made 
into  a  private  drawing-room  for  an  evening.  There 
are  a  score  or  more  of  young  women  here,  and  some 
of  them  are  hardly  out  of  girlhood.  There  is  not 
one  of  them  who  does  not  represent  one  of  the  best- 
known  names  of  the  country — of  statesmen,  jurists, 
generals,  admirals, — for  these  are  the  young  prin- 
cesses and  duchesses  and  countesses  of  America. 

It  is  a  dancing  party;  but  there  is  one  handsome 
young  fellow  who  will  not  dance.  He  came  in  on 
crutches,  and,  young  as  he  is,  he  wears  the  uniform 
of  a  colonel  of  cavalry.     He   is  decorated  forever 


PICTURES    AND   RKl'OUTS.  225 

with  the  costly  prize-mark  of  valor  in  battle.  No, 
he  will  not  dance;  but  he  is  not  to  be  left  alone  for 
one  moment.  You  heard  what  that  sweet-faced 
young  woman  said  :  "  He  used  to  be  such  a  beautiful 
waltzer  !  Poor  fellow  !  We  must  not  let  him  feel 
neglected;"  and  the  reply  from  another  voice  as  sym- 
pathetic as  her  own  is  : 

"  Is  it  not  cruel !     He  is  splendid  !" 

There  they  go,  and  one  of  them  will  be  forever 
associated  with  the  story  of  the  White  House;  but 
she  does  not  know  it  yet.  They  cluster  around  him 
merrily,  as  if  they  were  trying  to  keep  him  from 
thinking  of  his  lost  leg  and  his  vanished  dancing 
days.  Only  one  is  left  at  this  moment,  and  one  of 
the  young  gentleman  ornaments  of  society,  who  is 
not  in  uniform,  is  bending  before  her.  You  wonder 
at  him,  but  can  barely  catch  the  words,  "  This 
set  with  you  ?" 

There  is  an  indignant  flush  upon  her  face,  and 
something  in  her  surprised  eyes  remarks:  "You 
ought  to  know  better,  sir;"  but  her  tongue  says  only: 
"  Thank  you;  I'm  engaged." 

It  is  none  the  less  a  pretty  manifest  snub  for  his 
stupidity,  and  he  is  compelled  to  look  elsewhere  for 
a  partner.     It  was  a  very  pretty  picture. 

"  But  what  became  of  him  ?    Of  Ulric  Dahlgfren  ?" 

Why,  the  surgeons  were  even  then  fitting  him  with 
an  artificial  leg  so  perfectly  that  he  could  rejoin  his 
regiment.  It  was  only  a  few  days  before  he  mounted 
and  rode  again.  He  rode  away  toward  Richmond, 
and  he  did  not  return;  but  a  sort  of  vision  of  splen- 
did,   generous   youth,    bright  young  manhood  and 


12&    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

brilliant  young  womanhood,  will  always  come  up  in 
company  with  your  memory  of  the  hero  who  could 
not  dance. 

Andrew  Jackson's  chair  is  a  pleasant  seat,  espe- 
cially when  one  is  too  tired  to  go  home  or  anywhere 
else,  and  there  does  not  seem  to  be  any  more  office 
work  to  do.  It  is  a  sultry  evening,  and  it  is  quite 
likely  that  the  soldiers  in  their  camps  are  fighting 
sharp  battles  with  mosquitoes.  The  few  that  are 
humming  around  in  the  northeast  room  have  sug- 
gested the  idea,  and  one  feels  half  ashamed  that  he 
is  not  himself  in  camp,  instead  of  sitting  here.  That 
feeling  comes  powerfully  at  times;  but  then,  if  you 
were  by  some  camp-fire,  another  possible  soldier 
would  of  necessity  be  doing  this  work,  unless  Mr. 
Lincoln  could  find  a  lame  man,  or  a  one-armed  man 
to  whom  he  could  entrust  it.  There  was  a  fellow 
eagerly  applying  for  it  at  the  beginning — a  young 
man  who  had  been  acquainted  with  Mr.  Lincoln  in 
Illinois,  who  believed  that  he  had  such  personal 
claims,  therefore,  that  he  had  a  right  to  be  wrathful 
when  it  was  not  given  him.  He  was  not  of  the  kind 
they  make  soldiers  of,  and  one  of  the  reasons  he 
urged  for  his  appointment  here  was  that  he  was  all 
but  stone-deaf,  and  so  the  duties  and  pay  were  ex- 
actly suited  to  him.  That  part  of  his  qualifications 
now  and  then  turns  up,  in  memory,  when  this  northeast 
room  is  in  full  blast  and  the  visitors  know  each  other. 

If  it  is  a  good  place  to  loaf  in,  it  is  also  a  good 
place  to  read  in,  and  we  will  go  over  to  the  library 
and  get  a  book. 

It  is  a  fairly  well  selected  library,  largely  from  the 


PICTURES   AND    REPORTS.  227 

fact  that  only  part  of  it  was  in  any  manner  selected, 
and  all  the  rest  simply  gathered  from  time  to  time. 
It  is  an  evening  for  novel-reading.  Something  tame 
and  quiet,  like  Bulwcr,  to  grow  still  and  rested  over, 
after  the  thrilling  realities  of  the  long  life-romance 
of  these  White  House  days. 

Why  not  read  in  the  library?  Nobody  can  tell; 
but  it  does  not  seem  to  be  the  right  place  to  read  in, 
and  then  Mr.  Lincoln  is  still  at  work  in  his  own  rooms 
and  you  might  as  well  be  here. 

One  can  really  become  interested  in  Bulwer's 
Strange  Story,  but  if  he  could  have  spent  a  few 
months  in  Andrew  Jackson's  chair,  what  wonderful 
things  he  might  have  written  ! 

"  Ah  !  I'm  glad  you're  here.  I  was  thinking  every- 
body had  gone.     Come  over  into  my  room." 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Lincoln  !  " 

Down  come  your  feet  from  the  mantel,  the  Strange 
Story  shoots  across  the  table,  and  you  follow  him 
back  across  the  hall  into  the  room  where  he  and  so 
many  other  Presidents  before  him  have  sat,  alone  or 
in  company,  and  have  pondered  or  discussed  the 
condition  of  parties  and  the  country  and  all  the  world, 
if  not  the  other  world. 

Mr.  Lincoln  has  evidently  been  sitting  at  the  end 
of  the  Cabinet  table,  and  he  has  been  writing  some- 
thing. He  has  in  hand  a  number  of  sheets  of  closely 
written  foolscap  paper. 

"  Sit  down.  I  can  always  tell  more  about  a  thing 
after  I've  heard  it  read  aloud,  and  know  how  it  sounds. 
Just  the  reading  of  it  to  myself  doesn't  answer  as 
well,  either." 


228    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  read  it  to  you?" 

"No,  no;  I'll  read  it  myself.  What  I  want  is  an 
audience.  Nothing  sounds  the  same  when  there  isn't 
anybody  to  hear  it  and  find  fault  with  it." 

"I  don't  know,  Mr.  President,  that  I'd  care  to 
criticise  anything  you'd  written." 

"  Yes,  you  will.  Everybody  else  will.  It's  just 
what  I  want  you  to  do.  Sit  still  now,  and  you'll 
make  as  much  of  an  audience  as  I  call  for." 

He  has  been  punctuating  his  manuscript  with  a 
pen,  while  speaking,  and  he  has  drawn  the  pen  across 
it,  through  something  that  is  to  come  out. 

If  you  are  indeed  an  audience,  you  believe  he  has 
forgotten  you  are  there  for  a  moment,  but  that  is 
only  while  he  is  beginning.  He  is  more  an  orator 
than  a  writer,  and  he  is  quickly  warmed  up  to  the 
place  where  his  voice  rises  and  his  long  right  arm 
goes  out,  and  he  speaks  to  you  somewhat  as  if  you 
were  a  hundred  thousand  people  of  an  audience,  and 
as  if  he  believes  that  something  like  fifty  thousand 
of  you  do  not  at  all  agree  with  him.  He  will  con- 
vince that  half  of  you,  if  he  can,  before  he  has  done 
with  it. 

The  manuscript  is  long.  It  is  a  letter  nominally 
addressed  to  some  gentlemen  in  Illinois,  but  really 
to  the  country  and  to  the  world.  He  is  satisfied  that 
it  is  about  what  he  intended  it  should  be,  and  he 
laughs  silently  when  at  last  he  puts  it  down  on  the 
table. 

"  Now  !  Is  there  any  criticism  that  you  wanted  to 
make  ? " 

"  Well,  I  was  thinking — of  course,  it's  as  nearly 


PICTURKS    AND    REPORTS.  229 

beyond  criticism  as  it  well  could  be,  but  there's  one 
place " 

' '  What's  that  ?  Take  the  paper  and  show  it  to  me." 

"Why,  Mr.  Lincoln,  some  people  will  find  fault 
with  this:  '  Nor  must  Uncle  Sam's  web-feet  be  for- 
gotten. At  all  the  watery  margins  they  have  been 
present,  not  only  on  the  deep  sea,  the  broad  bay,  the 
rapid  river,  but  also  up  the  narrow,  muddy  bayou, 
and  wherever  the  ground  was  a  little  damp,  they 
have  been  and  made  their  tracks.' " 

The  silent  laugh  of  the  President  becomes  heartily 
audible,  as  he  listens  to  that  bit  of  criticism. 

"  I  reckoned  it  would  be  some  such  place  as  that. 
I'll  leave  it  in  just  as  it  is.  I  reckon  the  people'll 
know  what  it  means." 

"  That's  about  the  only  fault  I  can  find,  but  I  never 
saw  a  web-footed  gunboat  in  all  my  life.  They're  a 
queer  kind  of  duck." 

"Some  of  'em  did  get  ashore,  though,"  and  the 
silent  laugh  comes  again  this  time.  "  I'll  leave  it  in, 
now  I  know  how  it's  going  to  sound.  That'll  do.  I 
sha'n't  want  you  any  more  to-night." 

There  was  more  than  that  said,  by  both  the  orator- 
writer  and  his  audience,  but  the  real  object  was  at- 
tained, for  if  one  thing  was  clearer  than  another,  it 
was  the  suggested  idea  that  a  great  deal  can  be  seen 
by  some  eyes  through  a  very  small  pinhole.  We 
will  go  back  to  the  northeast  room,  but  not  to  loaf 
over  the  Strange  Story,  in  Andrew  Jackson's  chair. 
Rather  to  ponder  the  "web-feet"  question,  and  to 
study  whether  a  pinhole  can  set  up  in  business  as  an 
audience. 


230    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

Yes,  it  can.  Lincoln  knows  now  just  how  that 
thing  will  sound  in  the  ears  of  millions  on  millions 
all  over  the  country,  and  he  doesn't  care  a  corn-husk 
for  the  literary  critics  here  or  in  Europe. 

The  days  and  weeks  go  by,  and  you  have  had 
some  remarkable  experiences  since  last  you  found 
your  way  into  the  room  where  Lincoln  wrote  and 
read  the  "  web-feet  "  letter.  Now,  however,  you  are 
once  more  here,  and  he  is  sitting  opposite  you  with 
an  expectant  look  upon  his  face,  as  if  it  were  his 
turn  to  listen  this  time. 

"So  you've  been  all  through  the  Southwest? 
What  do  you  think  of  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  Mr.  President,  I've  been  down  as  far  as 
Memphis,  and  up  the  White  River,  and  across  to 
Little  Rock,  and  down  the  Arkansas,  and  up  to  St. 
Louis." 

"  But  about  the  stealing  ?  " 

"  There's  a  great  deal  going  on,  there's  no  doubt 
of  that,  but  General  Washburn's  an  honest  man, 
honest  as  the  day,  and  so  is  General  Steele." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  that  !  Glad  of  it.  I  like  Wash- 
burn. I  never  saw  Fred  Steele,  but  I've  always 
liked  him,  and  I  like  his  brother  here  in  Congress. 
I'm  glad  the  charges  are  false.  How  about  that 
corn  ? " 

"  Well,  there's  almost  a  joke,  there,  but  Steele  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  He  doesn't  know  what  be- 
came of  that  corn.  When  our  army  marched  in,  the 
Arkansas  River  bottom  plantations  were  mostly  in 
corn  instead  of  cotton.     Finest  standing  crops  you 


PICTURES   AND   REPORTS.  23 1 

ever  saw.  Sixty — seventy  bushels  to  the  acre.  It 
was  put  in  to  feed  the  Confederate  army  with,  but 
it's  been  fed  out  to  ours,  all  the  way  down  to  New 
Orleans." 

Mr.  Lincoln  hated  thieving,  but  there  is  a  look  of 
humor  on  his  face,  and  he  is  willing  to  hear  the  rest 
of  it. 

"  Go  ahead.     How  did  they  get  it  ?  " 

"  Through  the  contractors.  You  see,  the  contracts 
called  for  so  much  corn,  to  be  delivered  so  and  so,  up 
and  down  the  rivers,  the  Mississippi,  Cumberland 
and  so  on,  and  the  contractors  lived  up  to  their 
agreement  to  the  letter.  It  did  not  specify  where 
they  were  to  get  it  from.  The  corn  they  harvested 
in  the  Arkansas  valley  was  good  corn,  and  it  cost 
them  something.  They  had  to  pay  the  boys  a  dol- 
lar a  day  for  husking  it  out,  just  as  if  they  had  been 
in  Illinois  or  Ohio,  instead  of  in  the  army.  Nobody 
knows  what  they  paid  for  the  use  of  army  wagons 
and  mules  to  haul  it  to  the  landings  and  deliver  it 
on  board  the  steamers.  There  was  a  heap  of  it. 
Some  people  would  call  it  stealing,  but  it's  a  puzzle 
whom  they  stole  it  from,  and  the  boys  won't  say  a 
word.  They  took  their  dollar  a  day  and  called  it 
all  right." 

"  The  guerrillas  would  have  got  it  or  destroyed  it, 
if  it  hadn't  been  stolen." 

"  Well,  about  them.  There  are  not  so  many 
guerrillas  as  there  used  to  be.  You  can  see  that 
from  the  army  reports.  When  any  are  taken  now- 
adays, either  they  get  away  or  the  boys  let  'em  go." 

"What's  that?     Just  tell  me  what  you  mean." 


232     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

"Well,  I  got  it  from  the  boys.  There  was  about 
a  dozen  taken,  red-handed,  over  on  the  White,  while 
I  was  there,  by  a  squad  of  Clayton's  cavalry,  and  I 
asked  a  sergeant  of  that  squad  what  became  of  them, 
and  he  said  they  happened  to  have  plenty  of  rope 
on  hand,  and  so  they  let  them  all  go.  Didn't  report 
them  to  Clayton  or  anybody  else.  You  see,  if  a 
man  with  his  hands  tied  behind  him  is  sitting  on  a 
mule,  and  if  one  end  of  the  rope  that  is  noosed 
around  his  neck  is  drawn  a  little  taut  to  a  limb  of 
the  tree  he  is  under,  then  when  the  mule — or  if  it's  a 
horse  it's  the  same — gets  a  cut  and  runs  away  some- 
where else,  it  lets  the  man  go.  He  needn't  be  re- 
ported. Now,  if  he  is  left  entirely  free,  and  is  ordered 
to  clear  out,  and  nobody  says  anything  till  he  reach- 
es the  line  at  fifty  yards  regular  starting  distance, 
why,  then,  if  nobody  makes  out  to  hit  him,  at  fifty 
yards  and  over,  he  gets  away,  and  there  is  no  use  in 
reporting  him,  to  make  trouble  for  the  general  or 
for  the  War  Department,  if  there  are  charges  of 
murder  or  arson  against  him.  That  is  one  reason 
so  few  guerrillas  are  heard  of  here,  nowadays,  but 
there  is  no  doubt  of  Steele's  honesty,  or  Washburn's, 
or  of " 

"  That  will  quiet  all  that  matter.  I'm  glad  to 
hear  it.  Yes,  if  you  really  wish  to  settle  in  Ar- 
kansas, you  can  have  the  marshalship  as  soon  as  the 
organization  is  made.  But  I  want  Stanton  to  hear 
your  report,  just  as  you've  given  it  to  me.  He'll  be 
as  glad  as  I  am  to  dismiss  those  charges.  Go  right 
over  to  the  War  Office  and  see  him." 

"The  difficulty  is  that  he  won't  see  me.     There's 


PICTURES  AND   REPORTS.  233 

a  perfect  jam  outside  of  his  room,  and  inside, 
too." 

"  Yes,  he  will.  Take  that.  He'll  see  you  at 
once.     Go  right  over." 

A  few  words  written  on  a  card,  and  when  you  reach 
the  War  Office  and  send  that  bit  of  pasteboard  to 
Secretary  Stanton,  there  is  no  delay.  In  half  a  minute 
more  he  has  led  you  into  the  little  cupboard  of  a 
room  back  of  his  end  of  the  hall,  and  he  sits  down 
by  you  on  its  fubsy  sofa  to  hear  your  story.  It  is  as 
the  President  said  it  would  be,  and  the  War  Minister 
is  as  pleased  to  hear  of  honesty — but  the  report  is 
barely  ended,  and  he  is  thanking  you  cordially,  when 
an  officer  steps  in  as  if  in  hot  haste,  and  interrupts 
by  handing  him  a  yellow  tissue-paper  telegraphic 
dispatch.  Mr.  Stanton's  eyes  glance  quickly  over 
the  lines,  and  his  countenance  undergoes  a  change. 
It  glows  with  sudden  flushes  of  triumphant  red,  and 
he  turns  to  you,  handing  you  the  paper: 

"  Read  that!  Read  that,  Mr.  Secretary!  Hurrah! 
Take  it  to  the  President !  Show  it  to  Lincoln  !  It's 
the  turning-point  of  the  war !  It's  the  beginning  of 
the  end  !  No  more  work  in  this  office,  to-day !  This 
is  enough ! " 

It  is  Sheridan's  first  announcement  of  his  victory 
over  Early,  in  West  Virginia,  where  he  sent  him 
"whirling  up  the  valley,"  and  it  is  the  one  thing 
needful  at  this  hour. 

Up  jumps  Stanton,  and  out  he  dashes  into  the  hall. 
There  is  a  swarm  there  of  generals  and  other  offi- 
cers, of  Senators  and  Congressmen,  and  among  them 
the  grim  Secretary  absolutely  dances  up  and  down, 


234     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

swinging  his  dispatch,  and  shouting  the  glorious 
good  news.  He  needs  the  traditional  bricks  in  his 
pockets  just  now,  but  who  would  have  thought  there 
was  so  much  boy  in  him  ! 

He  jostles  you  hard  as  you  squeeze  past  him  with 
the  dispatch  he  hands  you  after  his  wild  publication  of 
its  contents,  and  you  actually  run  a  part  of  the  way  to 
the  White  House.  You  are  out  of  breath  when  you  get 
there,  and  somebody  or  other — you  cannot  distinct- 
ly remember  who  afterward,  but  dimly  believe  that 
it  was  Nicolay  and  Hay  and  a  Cabinet  officer  to  help 
them — seizes  the  yellow  missive  and  carries  it  into 
the  President's  room.  You  are  aware  of  an  idea, 
however,  that  he  read  it  through,  slowly,  thought- 
fully, and  looked  up  and  said: 

"  Boys,  I  reckon  that'll  do.  I  feel  as  Stanton  does. 
We'll  shut  up  shop  for  the  rest  of  to-day." 

It  is  a  day  to  eat  a  big  dinner  in  and  to  be  happy. 
There  have  been  greater  battles,  and  there  have 
been  victories  seemingly  more  important,  but  they 
were  all  parts  and  incidents  of  the  war  itself,  while 
this  victory  is  distinctly  a  part  and  incident  of  the 
finishing  up  of  the  war.  Stanton  is  very  nearly  cor- 
rect in  declaring  it  "the  beginning  of  the  end." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THERE   IS   AN   END    OF   ALL   THINGS. 

TT  is  with  reference  to  national  affairs  of  adminis- 
*  tration,  and  not  to  party  politics  or  political 
movements,  that  the  city  of  Washington  can  be 
called  the  political  centre  of  the  United  States.  It 
has  been  said  that  the  city  of  New  York  has  a  much 
better  title  to  that  rank,  as  had  Philadelphia  in  the 
long  ago.  The  truth  is  that  the  loose-jointed  sys- 
tems of  party  organizations  in  this  country  forbid  the 
establishment  of  an  American  political  hub,  such  as 
London  is  for  England  or  Paris  for  France. 

Even  the  political  laws  of  peace  times,  however, 
are  subject  to  temporary  suspension  in  time  of  war, 
and  just  now  there  is  an  exceptional  concentration 
of  the  national  blood  and  brains  at  the  Capital.  Ill- 
natured  people  say  there  is  something  like  conges- 
tion threatened,  and  that  it  is  dangerous.  The  cen- 
tre of  power  is  more  than  ever  here,  at  all  events, 
and  the  party  which  designs  to  effect  an  escape  from 
the  pressure  of  that  power  must  hold  its  National 
Convention  as  far  away  from  it  as  possible;  for  in- 
stance as  far  away  as  Chicago. 

The  Democratic  National  Committee  are  alto- 
gether too  wise  in  their  generation  to  gather  their 
chiefs  of  their  many  clans  under  the  drippings  of 
the  eaves  of  the  Capitol  and  of  its  White  House  wing, 

235 


236     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

or  of  the  White  House  and  its  Capitol  wing,  which- 
ever way  one  may  prefer  to  arrange  that  expression 
of  the  situation.  No  national  committee  of  any 
party  would  think  of  assembling  its  convention  in 
Washington,  but  there  are  many  hotels  and  other 
important  conveniences  in  Baltimore,  and  experience 
has  proved  that  that  town  is  much  nearer  the  bank  of 
the  Potomac,  politically,  than  it  appears  to  be  upon 
any  map.  Both  houses  of  Congress  and  all  the  De- 
partment forces  have  on  several  past  occasions 
found  it  possible  to  go  over  and  spend  the  day  in 
Baltimore  and  get  home  again  upon  late  night  trains, 
to  go  over  again  after  breakfast  next  morning. 

With  or  without  any  especial  reason  suggestive  of 
the  game  of  chess,  the  Republican  National  Conven- 
tion is  this  year  to  be  held  in  Baltimore,  and  there 
was  never  before  such  a  shaking  of  wise,  prophetic 
heads  over  any  future  event  as  there  is  over  the 
prospect  of  a  second  nomination  for  Abraham  Lin- 
coln. All  the  opposition  forces  outside  of  his  party 
are  rallying  under  General  McClellan,  with  a  great 
shout  that  is  composite  in  its  sonorousness.  One  can 
hear  in  it  the  deep  growl  of  dissatisfied  patriotism, 
the  angry  snarl  of  ancient  party  prejudices,  and  it  is 
only  needful  to  hearken  a  little  to  detect  the  half- 
smothered  fierceness  of  the  Confederate  charging 
yell.  The  opposition  elements  inside  of  the  Repub- 
lican party  are  many,  and  it  would  be  shallow  stu- 
pidity to  question  the  patriotic  sincerity  of  many  of 
them.  Good  men,  as  good  as  any  in  the  land,  fail  to 
appreciate  Lincoln,  and  honestly  disapprove  his 
methods  and  his  management.    It  is  not  easy  for  his 


THERE   IS  AN    END   OF   ALL    THINGS.         237 

immediate  supporters  to  put  aside  their  hot  partisan- 
ship just  now,  and  to  hear  him  abused  without  loss 
of  temper,  but  he  is  keeping  his  own  temper  very 
well.  So  well  that  no  man  you  know,  among  even 
his  personal  advisers,  can  repeat  to  you  a  dangerous 
word  which  has  fallen  from  his  prudent  lips. 

They  are  assailing  him  terrifically.  Every  check 
of  the  national  arms;  every  seeming  laxity  of  mili- 
tary or  civil  management;  the  ravages  of  Confederate 
cruisers;  the  cost  and  duration  of  the  great  contest; 
the  defects  of  territorial  administration;  the  draft; 
the  Emancipation  policy;  the  Bank  Act;  all  manner 
of  slanders,  falsehoods,  and  evil  imaginations,  are 
stirring  up  in  the  heated  minds  of  men  to  increase  the 
feverish,  natural  longing  for  a  change. 

This  state  of  things,  they  say,  has  gone  on  long 
enough,  and  it  is  time  that  the  nation  should  decide 
that  it  contains  more  than  one  man  fit  to  be  Pres- 
ident. Some  brilliant  general  or  eminent  legislator 
or  accomplished  jurist  must  be  put  into  the  place  of 
power,  so  long  abused  by  willful  incompetence  and 
frivolous  ignorance.     Lincoln  must  go  ! 

Under  such  circumstances  it  is  as  easy  to  ride  over 
to  Baltimore  this  afternoon  as  to  go  home  to  dinner. 
The  convention  will  assemble  to-morrow,  and  we 
will  see  how  it  looks  from  a  White  House  point  of 
view. 

We  cannot  see  it  to-night?  It  will  be  scattered 
among  the  hotels  ?  Of  course  it  is,  and  it  is  worth 
while  to  stroll  around  from  one  hotel  to  another,  and 
to  listen  to  what  these  throngs  of  our  over-excited 
fellow-citizens  are  saying. 


238     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

Your  heart  is  not  lifted  up  as  you  listen,  and  you 
are  making  a  serious  mistake  over  what  you  hear. 
The  silent  part  of  every  group,  the  men  who  are 
listening  as  anxiously  as  you  are,  you  do  not  count 
or  comprehend,  while  the  noisy,  argumentative,  vi- 
tuperative part  seem  to  be  having  it  their  own  way. 
The  delegates  are  all  here,  and  they  are  a  great 
mob,  and  there  is  also  a  great  mob  of  outsiders,  who 
are  carrying  air-guns  as  delegates  until  to-morrow. 

As  we  pass  from  one  place  to  another,  the  groups 
are  melting,  and  a  part  of  each  moves  away  in  a  kind 
of  loose  and  straggling  procession,  as  if  a  common 
errand  led  them.  Come  along  with  the  procession 
through  this  wide  doorway  and  upstairs.  Is  this  a 
masonic  anteroom?  Hardly,  but  no  man- can  get 
through  any  more  easily  than  he  could  get  into  a 
first-class  theatre.  No  ticket  is  asked  for,  but  you 
are  spoken  to,  and  you  answer,  and  are  checked  off 
upon  a  written  list,  as  you  pass  on  into  a  large  hall. 

Is  this  the  Republican  National  Convention  ? 

It  is  and  it  is  not.  The  men  upon  these  benches 
are  the  majority  in  number,  and  the  overwhelming 
preponderance  in-  power  of  the  body  of  delegates 
which  will  gather  in  the  Wigwam  to-morrow.  All 
the  debating  for  the  National  Convention  is  to  be 
transacted  here  this  evening,  for  the  good  of  the 
party,  to  secure  an  appearance  of  unanimity  before 
the  country,  in  any  decision  which  it  then  may  seem 
to  come  to.  The  Presidential  nomination  is  to  be 
fought  over,  and  practically  made  beforehand,  and 
the  action  of  this  Grand  Council  of  the  Union  League 
will  surely  be  ratified.     It  is  the  place  where  all  the 


THERE    IS   AN    END    OF   ALL   THINGS.  239 

anti-Lincoln  steam  is  to  be  let  off,  so  that  it  will  not 
scald  the  ^vork  in  the  Wigwam.  There  was  never  a 
wiser  provision  made  for  the  escape  of  dangerous 
vapors. 

A  very  dignified  and  orderly  assembly,  We  are 
entitled  to  an  official  seat  upon  the  platform;  let  us 
go  up  and  take  a  chair  at  the  left  of  Grand  President 
Edmunds,  and  look  out  over  the  long  rows  of  keenly 
intelligent  faces.  No  other  nation  can  call  together 
more  intellect  and  capacity  in  such  a  gathering, 
than  the  great  parties  of  the  United  States  habitually 
send  to  their  national  conventions.  Never  mind  the 
habitual  chatter  which  derides  and  belittles  them. 
This  assembly  itself  is  a  sufficient  rebuke  of  all  that 
nonsense,  for  these  men  are  worthy  of  their  trust. 

As  for  their  capacity,  listen  to  the  eloquent,  pow- 
erful arraignment  of  Abraham  Lincoln's  administra- 
tion, by  the  Senator  who  is  speaking  in  opposition  to 
the  formal  resolution  proposing  to  nominate  him  for 
a  second  term.  Hear  his  story  of  malfeasance,  of 
tyranny,  of  corruption,  of  illegal  acts,  of  abused 
power,  of  misused  advantages,  of  favoritism,  fraud, 
timidity,  sluggish  inertness,  local  wrong  and  oppres- 
sion, willful  neglect  of  suffering  and  willful  refusal  to 
hear  the  cry  of  the  down-trodden.  Mark  the  keen- 
ness of  his  personal  thrusts,  and  the  subtlety  with 
which  he  keeps  in  the  foreground  the  President's 
alleged  frivolity  and  unfeeling  jocoseness,  in  close 
companionship  with  a  suggestion  of  selfish  ambition 
instead  of  devotion  to  duty. 

He  is  an  able  speaker,  and  so  is  this  Congressman 
who  follows  him  in  the  same  path,  repeating,  adding 


240     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

to  and  enforcing  the  counts  of  the  long  and  shame- 
ful indictment. 

Another  and  another,  all  on  the  same  side  !  Has 
Lincoln  no  friends  left  ?  Or  are  they  too  bowed 
with  shame  to  speak  ?  Surely  the  resolution  of  ap- 
proval and  renomination  is  hopelessly  lost,  so  far  as 
can  be  judged  from  the  platform.  Beyond  a  doubt 
it  is,  and  if  a  vote  were  called  for  at  this  moment  it 
would  be  adverse  to  Mr.  Lincoln. 

"  Mr.  President — Gentlemen  of  the  Grand  Coun- 
cil." 

That  is  Jim  Lane,  who  assailed  the  President  so 
bitterly  in  the  Grand  Council  a  year  ago  at  Washing- 
ton. You  saw  him  at  the  White  House  yesterday. 
He  had  quite  a  talk  with  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  then  he 
came  over  and  talked  with  you,  but  he  did  not  tell 
you  exactly  what  he  meant  to  do  here. 

He  is  making  an  uncommonly  long  pause,  and  he 
seems  to  be  looking  all  along  the  benches,  as  if  he 
peered  into  face  after  face,  studying  its  meaning. 
His  own  glance  is  peculiarly  searching  at  any  time, 
and  his  voice  as  he  begins  would  go  through  a  wall. 

"  For  a  man  to  stir  up  sore  and  wounded  hearts 
to  bitterness  requires  no  skill,  no  power  of  oratory. 
For  a  man  to  address  the  minds  of  men  sickened  by 
disaster,  wearied  by  long  trial,  heated  by  passion, 
bewildered  by  uncertainty,  heavy  with  grief,  and 
cunningly  to  turn  them  into  one  vindictive  channel, 
into  one  blind  rush  of  senseless  fury — that  requires  no 
great  power  of  oratory.  It  may  be  the  mere  trick  of 
a  charlatan." 

Jim  Lane  has  a  peculiar  faculty  for  saying  an  off<m~ 


THERE  is  AN  END  OF  ALL  THINGS.         24I 

sivc,  insolentthing  in  the  most  gallingly  offensive  and 

insolent  manner,  and  he  has  rehearsed  liis  first  point 
with  so  positively  brutal  a  harshness  that  a  hundred 
faces  blaze  with  wrath. 

"  For  a  man  to  address  himself  to  an  assembly 
like  this,  goaded  almost  to  madness  by  long  suffer- 
ing, sorrow,  disaster,  humiliation,  perplexity,  and 
now  aroused  by  venomous  art  to  an  all  but  unani- 
mous condemnation  of  the  innocent,  and  to  turn  them 
in  their  tracks  and  force  them  to  go  the  other  way — 
that  would  indeed  be  a  feat  of  transcendent  orator- 
ical power.  I  am  no  orator  at  all,  but  that  is  the  very 
thing  I  am  now  about  to  dt>." 

Whether  it  is  oratory,  or  the  power  of  faith,  or  the 
hidden  force  of  inspiration — he  is  doing  it,  sentence 
after  sentence,  as  he  pulls  to  pieces  the  indictment, 
and  paints  in  many-colored  fire  the  truth  concerning 
Lincoln's  work  and  that  of  his  assailants.  Men  lean 
forward  and  listen,  while  they  more  or  less  rapidly 
are  swept  into  the  tide  of  conviction  and  are  made 
to  believe,  with  him,  that  any  other  nomination  than 
that  of  Lincoln  to-morrow  is  equivalent  to  the  nom- 
ination of  McClellan  by  the  Republican  Convention 
and  his  election  by  the  Republican  party ;  that  it 
would  sunder  the  Union,  make  permanent  the  Con- 
federacy, reshackle  the  slaves,  dishonor  the  dead  and 
disgrace  the  living. 

There  is  no  need  for  another  speech  on  our  side  of 
the  question,  and  in  the  tempest  which  follows  Jim 
Lane's  fierce  closing  shout,  the  resolution  is  adopted, 
with  a  mere  handful  of  dissenting  votes,  and  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  is  renominated.     The  gathering  in  the 


242     INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

Wigwam  to-morrow  will  seem  all  unanimity  and  en- 
thusiasm. There  is  hardly  steam  left  in  the  opposi- 
tion boiler  to  blow  one  last,  hoarse  whistle  of  a  per- 
functory vote  for  a  candidate  named  Grant,  who  is, 
however,  thereby  put  on  the  list  as  the  first  name  to 
be  considered  by  the  next  National  Convention  oi 
the  Republican  party. 

The  war  is  pressed  with  terrible  energy  under  the 
management  of  General  Grant.  He  is  an  embodi- 
ment of  the  idea  which  President  Lincoln  grasped 
at  the  outset,  and  there  can  now  be  no  manner  of 
doubt  as  to  the  result. 

The  Confederacy  is  everywhere  losing  ground,  in 
spite  of  the  ability  of  its  leaders  and  the  self-sacrific- 
ing courage  and  fortitude  of  its  people. 

It  is  a  horrible  pity  that  any  more  of  them  have  got 
to  be  killed  before  they  will  give  the  matter  up. 
There  is  no  bitterness  against  them  here  in  the 
White  House.  At  all  events  Mr.  Lincoln  has  no 
malice  in  his  nature,  and  they  will  be  entirely  safe 
in  his  hands  when  the  war  is  over. 

Will  they  be  in  his  hands  ? 

Of  course  they  will.  All  the  reports  from  every 
corner  of  the  land  unite  in  assuring  the  success  of 
the  Lincoln  electoral  tickets  in  November.  He  will 
be  President  for  another  four  years  from  the  4th  of 
March  next,  and  he  will  have  incomparably  less  dif- 
ficulty than  would  another  man  in  managing  the 
state  of  affairs  which  will  surely  exist  after  the  res- 
toration of  peace. 

That  seems  to  be  the  feeling  among  the  Senators 


THERE   is  an   KM)  OF  ALL  THINGS.         243 

and  Congressmen  you  have  been  talking  with  to- 
day at  the  Capitol,  but  it  will  probably  be  a  long 
time  before  you  again  stroll  around  the  floor  of 
either  House.  It  was  a  kind  of  farewell  visit,  but  it 
was  not  easy  to  make  it  appear  so.  Year  after  year 
the  Capitol  has  seemed  a  place  wherein  you  were 
almost  as  much  at  home  as  in  the  White  House  it- 
self. 

"  The  President  is  waiting  to  see  you,  sir.  He  is 
in  the  room  beyond  the  library.  I'll  shake  hands 
with  you  now,  sir.  I'm  going  out  and  I'll  not  be  at 
the  door." 

"All  right,  Edward.     I'll  go  in  and  see  him." 

You  shake  hands  with  Old  Edward,  and  then  you 
walk  slowly  on  through  the  shadowy  hall  to  the  room 
where  you  are  to  say  good-bye  to  Abraham  Lincoln. 
It  is  just  the  place  for  a  quiet,  farewell  talk.  He  is 
looking  cheerful  enough,  but  you  may  as  well  look 
into  his  face  pretty  closely,  for  you  will  never  see  it 
again. 

You  intend  taking  away  your  latch-key  when  you 
go,  but  you  have  been  all  over  the  house,  for  a  last 
glimpse  of  every  room.  You  have  said  good-bye  to 
Mrs.  Lincoln.  You  have  finished  your  last  arrange- 
ments with  the  other  secretaries.  There  is  nothing 
left  undone  but  this  one  duty,  and  then  you  are  to 
leave  all  this  behind  you,  for  this  is  the  time  for  the 
fall  of  the  leaves  in  the  year  1864. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Lincoln,  all  my  arrangements  are 
made,  and  I'm  off  to-night." 

"  Take  these  things  with  you,  then  " — passes,  let- 
ters, orders  for  transportation  are  in  your  hand — 


244    INSIDE  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

"  and  now  there's  just  one  thing  I  want  to  say.  The 
war  is  nearly  over.  Just  when  it  will  end,  I  can't  say, 
but  it  won't  be  a  great  while.  Then  the  Govern- 
ment forces  must  be  withdrawn  from  all  the  South- 
ern States.  Sooner  or  later,  we  must  take  them  all 
away.  Now  what  I  want  you  to  do  is  this:  do  all 
you  can,  in  any  and  every  way  you  can,  to  get  the 
ballot  into  the  hands  of  the  freedmen  !  We  must 
make  voters  of  them  before  we  take  away  the 
troops.  The  ballot  will  be  their  only  protection 
after  the  bayonet  is  gone,  and  they  will  be  sure  to 
need  all  they  can  get.  I  can  see  just  how  it  will  be. 
Will  you  ? " 

You  can  hardly  tell  him  how  keenly  you  sym- 
pathize with  his  own  earnestness.  He  is,  to  your 
perception,  a  kind  of  political  prophet.  He  speaks 
of  the  Southern  people,  as  he  goes  on,  in  the  friend- 
liest and  most  hopeful  manner.  They  have  no  bet- 
ter friend  than  he  is,  nor  wiser.  He  is  without  a 
shadow  of  doubt  as  to  what  the  end  will  be,  or  but 
that  the  Union  is  utterly  and  forever  safe. 

You  may  as  well  go  now,  for  you  feel  something 
swelling,  swelling  within  you,  and  it  is  getting  some- 
what difficult  to  talk.  He,  too,  has  arisen,  and  the 
parting  grasp  of  his  iron  hand  all  but  crushes  your 
own,  while  the  deep,  mournful  eyes  beam  down 
upon  you  warmly,  full  of  good-will. 

"  Good -bye,"  and  the  White  House  days  have 
become  as  a  dream  of  the  night,  when  it  is  ended. 


THE    END. 


STANDARD    PUBLICATIONS 

ISSUED   BY 

CHARLES  L  WEBSTER  &  CO., 

3  EAST  14-TH  STREET,  NEW  YORK. 


•  Personal  Memoirs  of  U.  S.  Grant. — In  two  octavo  volumes.  Two  steel 
portraits  by  Marshall  and  by  Ritchie.  Two  etchings.  Numerous  maps, 
plans,  and  fac-similes  of  handwriting.  In  cloth,  plain  edges,  $7.00  per  set 
of  two  volumes. 

1  McClellan's  Own  Story. — In  one  royal  octavo  volume  of  about  700  pages. 
Illustrated  with  steel-plate  portrait  and  numerous  fine  wood-cuts.  En- 
graved from  photographs  taken  during  the  war,  and  from  sketches  drawn 
on  the  field  of  battle  by  A.  R.  Waud,  the  great  war  artist,  who  accompanied 
General  McClellan  during  his  campaigns.  Fac-simile  of  a  celebrated  dis- 
patch   .  In  fine  cloth  binding,  $3.75. 

Tenting1  on  the  Plains;  or,  Custer  in  Kansas  and  Texas. — By  Mrs. 
Elizabeth  B.  Custer,  author  of  "Boots  and  Saddles."  An  octavo  volume 
of  700  pages.  Illustrated  by  A.  Berghaus  and  Frederick  Remington.  A 
steel  portrait  of  General  Custer.     In  fine  cloth  binding,  $3.50. 

I  Genesis  of  the  Civil  War:  The  Story  of  Sumter.— By  Maj.-Gen'l 
Samuel  Wylie  Crawford,  A.  M.,  M.  D.,  LL.  D.  An  octavo  volume  of 
about  600  pages.  Illustrated  with  steel-plate  portrait  and  numerous  wood- 
cuts, engraved  from  photographs  and  from  sketches  drawn  at  the  fort  just 
previous  to,  and  immediately  after,  the  bombardment.  Fac-similes  of  cele- 
brated letters.     In  fine  cloth  binding,  $3.50. 

Reminiscences  of  "Winfield  Scott  Hancock. — By  his  wife.  In  one  octavo 
volume  of  about  325  pages.  Illustrated  with  steel-plate  portraits  of  Gen- 
eral and  Mrs.  Hancock,  an  etching  of  the  school-house  where  General 
Hancock  attended  when  a  boy,  and  numerous  wood-cut  portraits.  Also 
photo-engravings  of  General  Hancock's  birth-place,  his  headquarters  at 
Governor's  Island,  his  home  at  St.  Louis,  and  other  interesting  scenes  in 
his  life.     In  full  sheep  binding,  library  style,  $3.50. 

Mark  Twain's  Library  of  Humor.  — An  octavo  volume  of  over  700  pages. 
Illustrated  by  E.  W.  Kcmble.     In  fine  cloth  binding,  $3.50. 

The  Adventures  of  Huckleberry  Finn.  (Tom  Sawyer's  Comrade.) — 
By  Mark  Twain.  An  octavo  volume  of  366  pages.  Illustrated  by  E.  W. 
Kemble.  A  full-page  heliotype  of  the  bust  of  the  author,  by  Karl  Ger- 
hardt,  with  fac-simile  autograph.     In  leather,  library  style,  $3.25. 


STANDARD  PUBLICATIONS  OF 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper.— By  Mark  Twain.  Illustrated.  A  delight- 
fill  romance  of  Edward  VI.  Many  consider  this  Mark  Twain's  best  work. 
In  cloth,  $3.00. 

Life  on  the  Mississippi. — By  Mark  Twain.  An  octavo  volume  of  624 
pages,  and  over  300  illustrations.  In  extra  cloth,  handsomely  stamped 
in  black  and  gold,  plain  edges,  $3.50. 

The  Stolen  White  Elephant  and  Other  Stories.— By  Mark  Twain. 
l6mo.     Contains  some  of  the  Author's  most  entertaining  sketches.    Cloth, 

$1.25. 

Life  of  Pope  Leo  XIII.— By  Bernard  O'Reilly,  D.  D.,  L.  D.  (Laval). 
From  an  authentic  memoir  furnished  by  his  order.  Written  with  the  en- 
couragement, approbation,  and  blessing  of  His  Holiness  the  Pope.  In  one 
volume,  royal  octavo,  of  about  600  pages.  Two  colored  plates,  two  steel 
plates,  and  twenty-two  other  full-page  illustrations.  Jubilee  edition.  In 
cloth,  gilt  edges,  $3.75. 

The  Legends  and  Myths  of  Hawaii :  The  Fables  and  Folk-Lore  of 
a  Strange  People. —  By  His  Hawaiian  Majesty,  Kalakaua.  Edited, 
with  an  introduction,  by  Hon.  R.  M.  Daggett,  late  U.  S.  Minister  to  the 
Hawaiian  Islands.  An  octavo  volume  of  530  pages.  Two  steel  portraits, 
and  twenty-five  other  beautiful  illustrations.  An  exhaustive  index.  In 
extra  cloth,  gold  and  black  stamp,  $3,00. 

Yale  Lectures  on  Preaching,  and  Other  "Writings.— By  Nathaniel  J. 
Burton,  D.  D.  Late  Pastor  of  the  Park  Church,  Hartford,  Conn.  Edited 
by  Richard  E.  Burton.     Steel  portrait  frontispiece.     8vo.,  cloth,  $3.75. 

The  Diversions  of  a  Diplomat  in  Turkey.— By  Hon.  S.  S.  ("Sunset") 
Cox.  Late  U.  S.  Minister  to  Turkey.  Dedicated,  by  permission,  to  the 
Sultan.  Illustrated  by  "  Chip"  and  Coffin,  and  other  well-known  artists. 
8vo.  Cloth,  $3  75;  full  sheep,  $4.75;  red  seal  russia,  $5  00;  half  morocco, 
$6.00;  full  turkey  morocco,  $9.00.  Mr.  Cox's  latest  and  best  work.  While 
it  sparkles  with  the  brightest  wit,  it  also  gives  a  concise  and  interesting 
account  of  the  Ottoman  Empire. 

The  Table:  How  to  Buy  Food,  How  to  Cook  It,  and  How  to  Serve 
It.  By  Alessandro  Filippini.  8vo.  Oil-cloth,  full  seal  russia.  For  twenty- 
four  years  Mr.  Filippini  was  Delmonico's  chef,  and  this  work  is  endorsed 
by  the  Delmonicos. 

Personal  Memoirs  of  General  P.  H.  Sheridan.— Illustrated.— Twenty- 
six  maps,  prepared  specially  for  this  book  by  the  War  Department.  2  vols., 
8vo.  Cloth,  full  sheep,  seal  russia,  half  morocco,  full  turkey  morocco,  tree 
calf.  It  rises  to  the  dignity  of  an  important  historical  work,  and  is  as  inter- 
esting as  a  romance. 
V 

A  Library  of  American  Literature  from  the  Earliest  Settlement  to 

the  Present  Time. — Compiled  and  edited  by  Edmund  Clarence  Sted- 
man  and  Ellen  Mackay  Hutchinson.     Fifteen  full  page  portraits  to  each 


CHARLES  L.  WEBSTER  eV  CO. 


volume.  IO  vols.,  8vo.  Extra  cloth,  plain  cloth,  professional  edition, 
leather,  half  morocco.  This  work  is  really  the  intellectual  history  of 
America.     A  complete  library  in  itself. 

A  Connecticut  Yankee  in  King  Arthur's  Court.  — By  Mark  Twain. 
A  square  octavo  volume  of  580  pages.  125  illustrations  by  Dan  Beard. 
A  keen  and  powerful  satire  on  English  Nobility  and  Royalty.  In  cloth, 
sheep,  full  seal,  half  morocco. 

The  Life  and  Letters  of  Roscoe  Conkling.— By  Alfred  R.  Conkling, 
Ph.  B.,  LL.  B.  An  octavo  volume  of  about  700  pages.  Illustrated  with 
a  steel  portrait  of  Roscoe  Conkling,  and  fac-similes  of  many  important 
letters.  A  clear  and  impartial  biography  of  the  great  Orator  and  States- 
man.    In  cloth,  sheep,  full  seal,  and  half  morocco. 


Orders  sent  direct  to  us   will   receive  immediate   attention.      Catalogue 
mailed  on  application. 

Our  office  is  conveniently  situated  for  people  shopping  in  New  York  City. 


V 


7/.  ZQOtt.  06^   02265 


It