The Lincoln Story Book Part 48

"ONE ON 'EM NOT DEAD YET!"

As communications were cut off with the North, intense anxiety was occasioned there by the situation in November, 1863, of General Burnside, packed in Knoxville, Tennessee, by Longstreet's dreaded veterans. At last a telegram reached the War Department, vaguely telling of "Firing heard in the direction of Knoxville." The President reading, expressed gladness, in spite of the remaining uncertainty.

"Why," said he to the group of officers and officials, "it reminds me of a neighbor of ours, in Indiana, in the brush, who had a numerous family of young ones. They were all the time wandering off into the scrub, but she was relieved as to their being lost by a squall every now and then. She would say: 'Thank the laws, there is one still alive!' That is, I hope _one_ of our generals is in the thicket, but still alive and kicking!"

Indeed, Burnside resisted a night storming-party, and Longstreet was not "a lane that knew no turning," but turned and retreated!

THE SOUTH LIKE AN ASH-CAKE.

At the end of 1864, the Confederacy was scotched if not quite killed.

Sherman had halved it by striking into Savannah. East Tennessee and southwest Virginia were cut by Stoneman. Alabama and Mississippi were traversed by Grierson and Wilson. In sum, the new map resembled that of a territory charted off into sections.

President Lincoln said that its face put him in mind of a weary traveler in the West, who came at night to a small log cabin. The homesteader and his wife said they would put him up, but had not a bite of victuals to offer him. He accepted the truss of litter and was soon asleep. But he was awakened by whispers letting out that in the fire ashes a hoe-cake was baking. The woman and her mate were merry over how they had defrauded the stranger of the food. Feeling mad at having been sent to bed supperless--uncommon mean in that part--he pretended to wake up and came forth to sit at the dying fire. He pretended, too, that he was ill from worry.

"The fact is, my father, when he died, left me a large farm. But I had no sooner taken possession of it than mortgages began to appear. My farm was situated like this----" He took up the loggerhead poker to ill.u.s.trate, drawing lines in the ashes so as to enclose the ash-cake.

"First one man got so much of it one side," he cut off a side of the hidden dough. "Then another brought in a mortgage and took off another piece there. Then another here, and another there! and here and there"--drawing the poker through the ashes to make the figure plain--"until," he said, "there was nothing of the farm left for anybody--which, I presume is the case with your cake!"

"And, I reckon," concluded Mr. Lincoln, "that the prospect is now very good of the South being as cut up as the ash-cake!"--(Telegraph Manager A. Chandler.)

"I COUNT FOR SOMETHING!"

The true lovers of the South were sorely wrung in 1864 by the Emperor Napoleon taking advantage of the "lockup" of the United States, to set a puppet in the Austrian Archduke Maximilian on the imperial throne-- so called--of Mexico. It was said that the Cabinet of Lincoln were divided on the subject; whereon the Marquis of Chambrun, having the ear of the Executive, called on him, and inquired on the real state--would the United States intervene, if only by winking at a filibustering expedition from the South, with Northern volunteers accessory, to a.s.sist the natives against the usurper?

"There has been war enough," was his rejoinder, with that sadness which Secretary Boutwell declares inseparable from him, but not due to the depression of public affairs. "I know what the American people want; but, thank G.o.d! I count for something, and during my second term there will be no more fighting!"

It was left for his successor, with the two armies disbanded, but still whetted for slaughter, to expel the French by the mere threat of their union to restore the republic.

Pa.s.sES NO GOOD FOR RICHMOND.

A person solicited the President for a pa.s.s to Richmond. But the other replied caustically:

"I should be happy to oblige you if my pa.s.ses thither were respected; but I have issued two hundred and fifty thousand to go to Richmond, and not one man has got there yet!"

THE MAYOR IS THE BETTER HORSE.

The Lowell _Citizen_ editor partic.i.p.ated in a presidential reception in 1864, just before the fall of Richmond. The usher giving intimation that the President would see his audience at once, all were ushered into the inner room. "Abraham Lincoln's countenance bore that open, benignant outline expected; but what struck us especially was its cheerful, wide-awake expressiveness, never met with in the pictures of our beloved chief. The secret may have been that Secretary Stanton--middle-aged, well-built, stern-visaged man--had brought in his budget good news from Grant." After saluting his little circle of callers, they were seated and attended to in turn.

First in order was a citizen of Washington, praying for pardon in the case of a deserter.

"Well," said the President, after carefully reading the pet.i.tion, "it is only natural for one to want pardon; but I must in that case have a responsible name that I _know_. I don't know you. Do you live in the city?"

"Yes."

"Do you know--h'm! the mayor?"

"Yes."

"Well, the _mayor_ is the better horse. Bring me his name and I will let the boy off."

The soldier was pardoned.

THE REAL THING SUPERIOR TO THE SHAM BATTLE.

On the 25th of March, 1864, in honor of the President's renewal of office, a grand review had been fixed at City Point, outside the capital.

Whatever the opinion of the old military, the volunteers gave the civilian commander "the soldiers' vote." In imitation of the French soldiers dubbing Bonaparte "the Little Corporal," after his Italian victories, the Americans promoted Lincoln to be their "captain,"

as Walt Whitman worded it, after his repeated reinstatement. He was rapturously greeted by "his boys in blue." But the arrangements made at Washington in the undisturbed council were upset by General Lee.

On that very morning he had attacked and taken Fort Stedman. To drive him out required a veritable action not terminating for several hours.

Lincoln visited the scene of restoration after the carnage, and, on hearing regrets that the review--the chief _recreation_ of the Washingtonians--he checked the light-souled attendants with:

"This victory is better than any review."

THE TOOL TURNED ON THE HANDLE.

The scales having fallen from our sight and the figure of the greatest American standing out colossal and clean-cut for posterity to worship as without a blemish, it is hard to measure the conceit of the clique of politicians, pettifoggers, and office-seekers certainly a.s.sisting in the advancement of Abraham Lincoln from confined obscurity in the West to the choice of the Northern nation. That was not enough, but still gaging him with their tape they withheld justice from him, after he displayed his worth in meeting the impending crisis.

When on the heels of the call for 300,000 men in 1863, came in spring, 1864, another for 500,000, to fortify General Grant in his finishing maneuvers, a murmur was heard. Chicago, gallantly having done her part, thought it was pumping at a void. A deputation from Cook County, headed by Lincolnites, departed for the capital to object to the summons. It was thought by his friends and long supporters that "their own elect" could not resist their plea, or turn it off with a joke.

This deputation fined down to three persons, as it was not a patriotic quest. One of them also wished to balk, being Joseph Medill, editor of the Chicago _Tribune_. As a matter of course, Secretary of War Stanton refused the indulgence, obdurate as he was. The President was likewise averse, but he did consent to go over the matter with Stanton. The result was the same. All was left solely to Lincoln, since the personal argument was implied by the mediums selected.

"I"--said Medill to Miss Tarbell--"I shall never forget how Mr.

Lincoln suddenly lifted his head and turned on us a black and frowning face.