A great deal has been said of the uniform meekness and kindness of
heart of Mr. Lincoln, but there would sometimes be afforded evidence
that one grain of sand too much would break even _this_ camel’s back.
Among the callers at the White House one day, was an officer who
had been cashiered from the service. He had prepared an elaborate
defence of himself, which he consumed much time in reading to the
President. When he had finished, Mr. Lincoln replied, that even upon
his own statement of the case, the facts would not warrant executive
interference. Disappointed, and considerably crestfallen, the man
withdrew. A few days afterward he made a second attempt to alter the
President’s convictions, going over substantially the same ground,
and occupying about the same space of time, but without accomplishing
his end. The _third_ time he succeeded in forcing himself into Mr.
Lincoln’s presence, who with great forbearance listened to another
repetition of the case to its conclusion, but made no reply. Waiting
for a moment, the man gathered from the expression of his countenance
that his mind was unconvinced. Turning very abruptly, he said: “Well,
Mr. President, I see you are fully determined not to do me justice!”
This was too aggravating, even for Mr. Lincoln. Manifesting, however,
no more feeling than that indicated by a slight compression of the
lips, he very quietly arose, laid down a package of papers he held
in his hand, and then suddenly seizing the defunct officer by the
coat-collar, he marched him forcibly to the door, saying, as he ejected
him into the passage: “Sir, I give you fair warning never to show
yourself in this room again. I can bear censure, but not insult!” In
a whining tone the man begged for his papers, which he had dropped.
“Begone, sir,” said the President, “your papers will be sent to you. I
never wish to see your face again!”
Upon another occasion, as I was going through the passage, the door of
the President’s office suddenly opened, and two ladies, one of whom
seemed in a towering passion, were unceremoniously ushered out by one
of the attendants. As they passed me on their way down the stairs, I
overheard the elder remonstrating with her companion upon the violence
of her expressions. I afterward asked old Daniel what had happened?
“Oh,” he replied, “the younger woman was very saucy to the President.
She went one step too far; and he told me to show them out of the
house.”
Of a similar character is an incident given by “N. C. J.,” in a letter
to the New York “Times”:--
“Among the various applicants, a well-dressed lady came forward,
without apparent embarrassment in her air or manner, and addressed the
President. Giving her a very close and scrutinizing look, he said,
‘Well, madam, what can I do for you?’ She proceeded to tell him that
she lived in Alexandria; that the church where she worshipped had
been taken for a hospital. ‘What church, madam?’ Mr. Lincoln asked,
in a quick, nervous manner. ‘The ---- church,’ she replied; ‘and as
there are only two or three wounded soldiers in it, I came to see
if you would not let us have it, as we want it very much to worship
God in.’ ‘Madam, have you been to see the Post Surgeon at Alexandria
about this matter?’ ‘Yes, sir; but we could do nothing with him.’
‘Well, we put him there to attend to just such business, and it is
reasonable to suppose that he knows better what should be done under
the circumstances than I do. See here: you say you live in Alexandria;
probably you own property there. How much will you give to assist in
building a hospital?’
“‘You know, Mr. Lincoln, our property is very much embarrassed by
the war;--so, really, I could hardly afford to give much for such a
purpose.’
“‘Well, madam, I expect we shall have another fight soon; and my candid
opinion is, God wants that church for poor wounded Union soldiers, as
much as he does for secesh people to worship in.’ Turning to his table,
he said, quite abruptly, ‘You will excuse me; I can do nothing for you.
Good day, madam.’
“I had noticed two other women who stood just back of me. I was
fully convinced that I had rightly guessed their errand from their
appearance; for one of them, whose wicked eyes shot fire, said to her
companion in a spiteful under-tone, ‘Oh! the old brute,--there is no
use asking for our passes; come, let’s go.’ And they did go, in evident
wrath; leaving the President to perform more pleasant duties.”