Wednesday night, February 10th, was an exciting one at the White House,
the stables belonging to the mansion being burned to the ground.
The loss most severely felt was of the two ponies, one of which had
belonged to Willie Lincoln, the President’s second son, who died in
1862, and the other to Tad, the youngest, and pet of his father, who in
his infancy nicknamed him Tadpole, subsequently abbreviated to Taddie,
and then Tad. His real name is Thomas, named for the father of Mr.
Lincoln. Upon “Tad’s” learning of the loss, he threw himself at full
length upon the floor, and could not be comforted. The only allusion
I ever heard the President make to Willie was on this occasion, in
connection with the loss of his pony. John Hay, the assistant private
secretary, told me that he was rarely known to speak of his lost son.
The morning following the fire, Robert Lincoln came into his father’s
office, and said he had a point of law which he wished to submit. It
appeared that one of the coachmen had two or three hundred dollars
in greenbacks in his room over the stables, which were consumed.
Robert said that he and John Hay had been having an argument as to the
liability of the government for its notes, where it could be shown that
they had been burned, or otherwise destroyed. The President turned the
matter over in his mind for a moment, and said, “The payment of a note
presupposes its presentation to the maker of it. It is the sign or
symbol of value received; it is not _value_ itself, that is clear. At
the same time the production of the note seems a necessary warrant for
the demand; and while the moral obligation is as strong without this,
governments and banking institutions do not recognize any principle
beyond the strictly legal. It is an established rule that the citizen
cannot sue the government; therefore, I don’t see but that it is a dead
loss for Jehu.”
About this time a couple of Kentucky gentlemen called. As they rose
to take leave, one of them, who may have noticed little Tad,--as he
usually spent much time in his father’s office,--said to the President:
“General Crittenden told me an interesting incident about his son,
eight or nine years old, a few days since. A day or two after the
battle of Chickamauga, the little fellow came into camp. The General
rode during the battle a horse which went by the name of John Jay, a
great favorite with his son. Manifesting his delight upon again seeing
his father, by covering him with caresses, the child at length said,
‘Papa, where is John Jay?’ ‘Oh,’ said his father, ‘your horse behaved
very badly during the fight; he insisted, very cowardly, upon taking me
to the rear.’ The little fellow’s eyes sparkled. ‘Papa,’ said he, ‘I
know John Jay would never have done that of his own will. It must have
been _your_ work.’”
Montgomery Blair told me that when the convention which nominated
Mr. Lincoln met at Chicago, there was a hideous painting in the hall
which was brought forward subsequently as a likeness of the nominee.
Most of the delegates having never seen the original, the effect upon
them was indescribable. I replied to Mr. Blair that my friend Brady,
the photographer, insisted that his photograph of Mr. Lincoln, taken
the morning of the day he made his Cooper Institute speech in New
York,--much the best portrait, by the way, in circulation of him
during the campaign,--was the means of his election. That it helped
largely to this end I do not doubt. The effect of such influences,
though silent, is powerful. Fremont once said to me, that the villanous
wood-cut published by the New York “Tribune,” the next day after his
nomination, lost him twenty-five votes in one township, to his certain
knowledge.
On one of the last days of February, I called, with my friend W----,
of New York, upon Mr. Lovejoy, who was supposed to be convalescent. He
thought himself nearly well again, and was in fine spirits. Indications
of an organized movement to bring forward Fremont, as an opposition
candidate to Mr. Lincoln, had recently appeared. Mr. Lovejoy was very
severe upon it; he said, “Any attempt to divide the party at such a
time was criminal in the last degree.” I remember observing that many
of the extreme anti-slavery men appeared to distrust the President.
This drew out his indignant condemnation. “I tell you,” said he, “Mr.
Lincoln is at heart as strong an anti-slavery man as any of them, but
he is compelled to _feel_ his way. He has a responsibility in this
matter which many men do not seem to be able to comprehend. I say to
you frankly, that I believe his course to be right. His mind acts
slowly, but when he moves, it is _forward_. You will never find him
receding from a position once taken. It is of no use talking, or
getting up conventions against him. He is going to be the candidate
of the Baltimore Convention, and is sure to be reëlected. ‘It was
foreordained from the foundation of the world.’ I have no sympathy or
patience with those who are trying to manufacture issues against him;
but they will not succeed; he is too strong with the masses. For my
part,” he concluded, “I am not only willing to take Mr. Lincoln for
another term, but the same cabinet, right straight through.”