"NO END OF A BOY"
"THE STORY OF YOUNG ABRAHAM LINCOLN" would be incomplete without some
insight into the perfect boyishness of the President of the United
States. When the cares of State and the horrors of war had made his
homely yet beautiful face pallid and seamed, till it became a sensitive
map of the Civil War, it was said that the only times the President was
ever happy were when he was playing with little Tad.
He used to carry the boy on his shoulder or "pick-a-back," cantering
through the spacious rooms of the Executive Mansion, both yelling like
Comanches. The little boy was lonely after Willie died, and the father's
heart yearned over the only boy left at home, for Robert was at Harvard
until near the close of the war, when he went to the front as an aide to
General Grant. So little Tad was his father's most constant companion
and the President became the boy's only playfellow. Mr. Lincoln, with a
heart as full of faith as a little child's, had always lived in deep
sympathy with the children, and this feeling was intensified toward his
own offspring.
When Abe Lincoln was living in New Salem he distinguished himself by
caring for the little children--a thing beneath the dignity of the other
young men of the settlement.
Hannah Armstrong, wife of the Clary's Grove bully, whom Abe had to
"lick" to a finish in order to establish himself on a solid basis in New
Salem society, told how friendly their relations became after the
thrashing he gave her husband:
"Abe would come to our house, drink milk, eat mush, cornbread and
butter, bring the children candy and rock the cradle." (This seemed a
strange thing to her.) "He would nurse babies--do anything to
accommodate anybody."
HOW HE REPAID THE ARMSTRONGS' KINDNESS
The Armstrong baby, Willie, grew to be a youth of wrong habits, and was
nicknamed "Duff." He was drawn, one afternoon, into a bad quarrel with
another rough young man, named Metzker, who was brutally beaten. In the
evening a vicious young man, named Morris, joined the row and the lad
was struck on the head and died without telling who had dealt the fatal
blow. The blame was thrown upon "Duff" Armstrong, who was arrested.
Illinois law preventing him from testifying in his own behalf.
When Lawyer Lincoln heard of the case, he wrote as follows:
"SPRINGFIELD, ILL., September, 1857.
"DEAR MRS. ARMSTRONG:
"I have just heard of your deep affliction, and
the arrest of your son for murder.
"I can hardly believe that he can be capable of
the crime alleged against him.
"It does not seem possible. I am anxious that
he should be given a fair trial, at any rate;
and gratitude for your long-continued kindness
to me in adverse circumstances prompts me to
offer my humble services gratuitously in his
behalf.
"It will afford me an opportunity to requite,
in a small degree, the favors I received at
your hand, and that of your lamented husband,
when your roof afforded me a grateful shelter,
without money and without price.
"Yours truly,
"A. LINCOLN."
The feeling in the neighborhood where the crime was committed was so
intense that it was decided that it must be taken over to the next
county to secure a fair trial. Lawyer Lincoln was on hand to defend the
son of his old friend.
Besides those who testified to the bad character of the young prisoner,
one witness, named Allen, testified that he saw "Duff" Armstrong strike
the blow which killed Metzker.
"Couldn't you be mistaken about this?" asked Mr. Lincoln. "What time did
you see it?"
"Between nine and ten o'clock that night."
"Are you certain that you saw the prisoner strike the blow?--Be
careful--remember--you are under oath!"
"I am sure. There is no doubt about it."
"But wasn't it dark at that hour?"
"No, the moon was shining bright."
"Then you say there was a moon and it was not dark."
"Yes, it was light enough for me to see him hit Metzker on the head."
"Now I want you to be very careful. I understand you to say the murder
was committed about half past nine o'clock, and there was a bright moon
at the time?"
"Yes, sir," said the witness positively.
"Very well. That is all."
Then Lawyer Lincoln produced an almanac showing that there was no moon
that night till the early hours of the morning.
"This witness has perjured himself," he said, "and his whole story is a
lie."
* * * * *
"Duff" Armstrong was promptly acquitted. The tears of that widowed
mother and the gratitude of the boy he had rocked were the best sort of
pay to Lawyer Lincoln for an act of kindness and life-saving.
"JUST WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH THE WHOLE WORLD!"
A Springfield neighbor used to say that it was almost a habit with Mr.
Lincoln to carry his children about on his shoulders. Indeed, the man
said he seldom saw the tall lawyer go by without one or both boys
perched on high or tugging at the tails of his long coat. This neighbor
relates that he was attracted to the door of his own house one day by a
great noise of crying children, and saw Mr. Lincoln passing with the two
boys in their usual position, and both were howling lustily.
"Why, Mr. Lincoln, what's the matter?" he asked in astonishment.
"Just what's the matter with the whole world," the lawyer replied
coolly. "I've got three walnuts, and each wants two."
THE "BUCKING" CHESS BOARD
Several years later Judge Treat, of Springfield was playing chess with
Mr. Lincoln in his law office when Tad came in to call his father to
supper. The boy, impatient at the delay of the slow and silent game,
tried to break it up by a flank movement against the chess board, but
the attacks were warded off, each time, by his father's long arms.
The child disappeared, and when the two players had begun to believe
they were to be permitted to end the game in peace, the table suddenly
"bucked" and the board and chessmen were sent flying all over the floor.
Judge Treat was much vexed, and expressed impatience, not hesitating to
tell Mr. Lincoln that the boy ought to be punished severely.
Mr. Lincoln replied, as he gently took down his hat to go home to
supper:
"Considering the position of your pieces, judge, at the time of the
upheaval, I think you have no reason to complain."
WHEN TAD GOT A SPANKING
Yet, indulgent as he was, there were some things Mr. Lincoln would not
allow even his youngest child to do. An observer who saw the
President-elect and his family in their train on the way to Washington
to take the helm of State, relates that little Tad amused himself by
raising the car window an inch or two and trying, by shutting it down
suddenly, to catch the fingers of the curious boys outside who were
holding themselves up by their hands on the window sill of the car to
catch sight of the new President and his family.
The President-elect, who had to go out to the platform to make a little
speech to a crowd at nearly every stop, noticed Tad's attempts to pinch
the boys' fingers. He spoke sharply to his son and commanded him to stop
that. Tad obeyed for a time, but his father, catching him at the same
trick again, leaned over, and taking the little fellow across his knee,
gave him a good, sound spanking, exclaiming as he did so:
"Why do you want to mash those boys' fingers?"
THE TRUE STORY OF BOB'S LOSING THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS
Mr. Lincoln was always lenient when the offense was against himself. The
Hon. Robert Todd Lincoln, the only living son of the great President,
tells how the satchel containing his father's inaugural address was lost
for a time. Some writers have related the story of this loss, stating
that it all happened at Harrisburg, and telling how the President-elect
discovered a bag like his own, and on opening it found only a pack of
greasy cards, a bottle of whisky and a soiled paper collar. Also that
Mr. Lincoln was "reminded" of a cheap, ill-fitting story--but none of
these things really took place.
Here is the true story, as related to the writer by Robert Lincoln
himself:
"My father had confided to me the care of the satchel containing his
inaugural address. It was lost for a little while during the stay of our
party at the old Bates House in Indianapolis. When we entered the hotel
I set the bag down with the other luggage, which was all removed to a
room back of the clerk's desk.
"As soon as I missed the valise I went right to father, in great
distress of mind. He ordered a search made. We were naturally much
alarmed, for it was the only copy he had of his inaugural address, which
he had carefully written before leaving Springfield. Of course, he added
certain parts after reaching Washington. The missing bag was soon found
in a safe place.
"Instead of taking out the precious manuscript and stuffing it into his
own pocket, father handed it right back to me, saying:
"'There, Bob, see if you can't take better care of it this time'--and
you may be sure I was true to the trust he placed in me. Why, I hardly
let that precious gripsack get out of my sight during my waking hours
all the rest of the long roundabout journey to Washington."
THE TERRIBLE LONELINESS AFTER WILLIE DIED
The death of Willie, who was nearly three years older than Tad, early in
1862, during their first year in the White House, nearly broke his
father's heart. It was said that Mr. Lincoln never recovered from that
bereavement. It made him yearn the more tenderly over his youngest son
who sadly missed the brother who had been his constant companion.
It was natural for a lad who was so much indulged to take advantage of
his freedom. Tad had a slight impediment in his speech which made the
street urchins laugh at him, and even cabinet members, because they
could not understand him, considered him a little nuisance. So Tad,
though known as "the child of the nation," and greatly beloved and
petted by those who knew him for a lovable affectionate child, found
himself alone in a class by himself, and against all classes of people.
TURNING THE HOSE ON HIGH OFFICIALS
He illustrated this spirit one day by getting hold of the hose and
turning it on some dignified State officials, several army officers, and
finally on a soldier on guard who was ordered to charge and take
possession of that water battery. Although that little escapade appealed
to the President's sense of humor, for he himself liked nothing better
than to take generals and pompous officials down "a peg or two," Tad got
well spanked for the havoc he wrought that day.
BREAKING INTO A CABINET MEETING
The members of the President's cabinet had reason to be annoyed by the
boy's frequent interruptions. He seemed to have the right of way
wherever his father happened to be. No matter if Senator Sumner or
Secretary Stanton was discussing some weighty matter of State or war, if
Tad came in, his father turned from the men of high estate to minister
to the wants of his little boy. He did it to get rid of him, for of
course he knew Tad would raise such a racket that no one could talk or
think till _his_ wants were disposed of.
AN EXECUTIVE ORDER ON THE COMMISSARY DEPARTMENT FOR TAD AND HIS BOY
FRIENDS
A story is told of the boy's interruption of a council of war. This
habit of Tad's enraged Secretary Stanton, whose horror of the boy was
similar to that of an elephant for a mouse. The President was giving his
opinion on a certain piece of strategy which he thought the general in
question might carry out--when a great noise was heard out in the hall,
followed by a number of sharp raps on the door of the cabinet room.
Strategy, war, everything was, for the moment forgotten by the
President, whose wan face assumed an expression of unusual pleasure,
while he gathered up his great, weary length from different parts of the
room as he had half lain, sprawling about, across and around his chair
and the great table.
"That's Tad," he exclaimed, "I wonder what that boy wants now." On his
way to open the door, Mr. Lincoln explained that those knocks had just
been adopted by the boy and himself, as part of the telegraph system,
and that he was obliged to let the lad in--"for it wouldn't do to go
back on the code now," he added, half in apology for permitting such a
sudden break in their deliberations.
When the door was opened, Tad, with flushed face and sparkling eyes,
sprang in and threw his arms around his father's neck. The President
straightened up and embraced the boy with an expression of happiness
never seen on his face except while playing with his little son.
Mr. Lincoln turned, with the boy still in his arms, to explain that he
and Tad had agreed upon this telegraphic code to prevent the lad from
bursting in upon them without warning. The members of the cabinet looked
puzzled or disgusted, as though they failed to see that several
startling raps could be any better than having Tad break in with a whoop
or a wail, as had been the boy's custom.
ISSUING THE EXECUTIVE ORDER ON PETER FOR PIE
The boy raised a question of right. He had besieged Peter, the colored
steward, demanding that a dinner be served to several urchins he had
picked up outside--two of whom were sons of soldiers. Peter had
protested that he "had other fish to fry" just then.
The President recognized at once that this was a case for diplomacy.
Turning to various members of the cabinet, he called on each to
contribute from his store of wisdom, what would be best to do in a case
of such vast importance. Tad looked on in wonder as his father set the
great machinery of government in motion to make out a commissary order
on black Peter, which would force that astonished servant to deliver
certain pieces of pie and other desired eatables to Tad, for himself and
his boy friends.
At last an "order" was prepared by the Chief Executive of the United
States directing "The Commissary Department of the Presidential
Residence to issue rations to Lieutenant Tad Lincoln and his five
associates, two of whom are the sons of soldiers in the Army of the
Potomac."
With an expression of deep gravity and a solemn flourish, the President
tendered this Commissary Order to the lieutenant, his son, saying as he
presented the document:
"I reckon Peter will _have_ to come to time now."