Beyond the interest in these letters as another instance of a peculiar
literature,--illustrated by Major Jack Downing, Sam Slick, and
the genius of Hosea Biglow,--they have an historic character from
the part they performed in the war with Slavery, and in advancing
Reconstruction. Appearing with a certain regularity and enjoying
an extensive circulation, they became a constant and welcome ally.
Unquestionably they were among the influences and agencies by which
disloyalty in all its forms was exposed, and public opinion assured on
the right side. It is impossible to measure their value. Against the
devices of Slavery and its supporters, each letter was like a speech,
or one of those songs which stir the people. Therefore they belong to
the political history of this critical period.
Of publications during the war, none had such charm for Abraham
Lincoln. He read every letter as it appeared, and kept them all within
reach for refreshment. This strong liking illustrates his character,
and will always awaken an interest in the letters. An incident in my
own relations with him shows how easily he turned from care to humor.
I had occasion to see President Lincoln very late in the evening of
March 17th, 1865. The interview was in the familiar room known as
his office, and also used for cabinet meetings. I did not take leave
of him until some time after midnight, and then the business was not
entirely finished. As I rose, he said, “Come to me when I open shop
in the morning; I will have the order written, and you shall see it.”
“When do you open shop?” said I. “At nine o’clock,” he replied. At
the hour named I was in the same room that I had so recently left.
Very soon the President entered, stepping quickly with the promised
order in his hands, which he at once read to me. It was to disapprove
and annul the judgment and sentence of a court-martial in a case that
had excited much feeling. While I was making an abstract of the order
for communication by telegraph to the anxious parties, he broke into
quotation from Nasby. Finding me less at home than himself with his
favorite humorist, he said pleasantly, “I must initiate you,” and then
repeated with enthusiasm the message he had sent to the author: “For
the genius to write these things I would gladly give up my office.”
Rising from his seat, he opened a desk behind, and, taking from it a
pamphlet collection of the letters already published, proceeded to read
from it with infinite zest, while his melancholy features grew bright.
It was a delight to see him surrender so completely to the fascination.
Finding that I listened, he read for more than twenty minutes, and was
still proceeding, when it occurred to me that there must be many at
the door waiting to see him on graver matters. Taking advantage of a
pause, I rose, and, thanking him for the lesson of the morning, went
away. Some thirty persons, including Senators and Representatives, were
in the antechamber as I passed out.
Though with the President much during the intervening time before his
death, this was the last business I transacted with him. A few days
later he left Washington for City Point, on the James River, where he
was at the surrender of Richmond. April 6th I joined him there. April
9th the party returned to Washington. On the evening of April 14th the
bullet of an assassin took his life.
In this simple story Abraham Lincoln introduces Nasby.