Why Lincoln Laughed Part 2

This generation, whose taste in humor has naturally changed from that of Civil War times, is not very familiar with the stories of Artemus Ward. It will be well for the reader to bear this in mind in the pages that follow.

One of the two stories Lincoln read by way of relaxation, as I have told in the preceding chapter, concerned the President himself. Here it is:

HOW OLD ABE RECEIVED THE NEWS OF HIS NOMINATION

There are several reports afloat as to how "Honest Old Abe" received the news of his nomination, none of which are correct. We give the correct report.

The Official Committee arrived in Springfield at dewy eve, and went to Honest Old Abe's house. Honest Old Abe was not in. Mrs. Honest Old Abe said Honest Old Abe was out in the woods splitting rails. So the Official Committee went out into the woods, where, sure enough, they found Honest Old Abe splitting rails with his two boys. It was a grand, a magnificent spectacle. There stood Honest Old Abe in his shirt-sleeves, a pair of leather home-made suspenders holding up a pair of home-made pantaloons, the seat of which was neatly patched with substantial cloth of a different color. "Mr. Lincoln, Sir, you've been nominated, Sir, for the highest office, Sir--" "Oh, don't bother me," said Honest Old Abe; "I took a _stent_ this mornin' to split three million rails afore night, and I don't want to be pestered with no stuff about no Conventions till I get my stent done. I've only got two hundred thousand rails to split before sundown. I kin do it if you'll let me alone." And the great man went right on splitting rails, paying no attention to the Committee whatever. The Committee were lost in admiration for a few moments, when they recovered, and asked one of Honest Old Abe's boys whose boy he was? "I'm my parent's boy," shouted the urchin, which burst of wit so convulsed the Committee that they came very near "gin'in eout" completely. In a few moments Honest Ole Abe finished his task, and received the news with perfect self-possession. He then asked them up to the house, where he received them cordially. He said he split three million rails every day, although he was in very poor health. Mr. Lincoln is a jovial man, and has a keen sense of the ludicrous. During the evening he asked Mr. Evarts, of New York, "why Chicago was like a hen crossing the street?" Mr. Evarts gave it up. "Because," said Mr. Lincoln, "Old Grimes is dead, that good old man!"

This exceedingly humorous thing created the most uproarious laughter.

INTERVIEW WITH PRESIDENT LINCOLN

I hav no politics. Not a one. I'm not in the bizniss. If I was I spose I should holler versiffrusly in the streets at nite and go home to Betsy Jane smellin of coal ile and gin, in the mornin. I should go to the Poles arly. I should stay there all day. I should see to it that my nabers was thar. I should git carriges to take the kripples, the infirm, and the indignant thar. I should be on guard agin frauds and sich. I should be on the look out for the infamus lise of the enemy, got up jest be4 elecshun for perlitical eff.e.c.k. When all was over and my candy-date was elected, I should move heving & erth--so to speak--until I got orfice, which if I didn't git a orfice I should turn round and abooze the Administration with all my mite and maine. But I'm not in the bizniss. I'm in a far more respectful bizniss nor what pollertics is. I wouldn't giv two cents to be a Congresser. The wuss insult I ever received was when sertin citizens of Baldinsville axed me to run fur the Legislater. Sez I, "My frends, dostest think I'd stoop to that there?" They turned as white as a sheet. I spoke in my most orfullest tones & they knowed I wasn't to be trifled with. They slunked out of site to onct.

There4, havin no politics, I made bold to visit Old Abe at his humstid in Springfield. I found the old feller in his parler, surrounded by a perf.e.c.k swarm of orfice seekers. Knowin he had been capting of a flat boat on the roarin Mississippy I thought I'd address him in sailor lingo, so sez I, "Old Abe, ahoy! Let out yer main-suls, reef hum the forecastle & throw yer jib-p.o.o.p over-board! Shiver my timbers, my harty!" [N. B. This is ginuine mariner langwidge. I know, becawz I've seen sailor plays acted out by them New York theater fellers.] Old Abe lookt up quite cross & sez, "Send in yer pet.i.tion by & by. I can't possibly look at it now. Indeed, I can't.

It's on-possible, sir!"

"Mr. Linkin, who do you spect I air?" sed I.

"A orfice-seeker, to be sure," sed he.

"Wall, sir," sed I, "you's never more mistaken in your life. You hain't gut a orfiss I'd take under no circ.u.mstances. I'm A. Ward. Wax figgers is my perfeshun. I'm the father of Twins, and they look like me--_both of them_. I c.u.m to pay a friendly visit to the President eleck of the United States. If so be you wants to see me, say so, if not, say so & I'm orf like a jug handle."

"Mr. Ward, sit down. I am glad to see you, Sir."

"Repose in Abraham's Buzzum!" sed one of the orfice seekers, his idee bein to git orf a goak at my expense.

"Wall," sez I, "ef all you fellers repose in that there Buzzum thar'll be mity poor nussin for sum of you!" whereupon Old Abe b.u.t.toned his weskit clear up and blusht like a maidin of sweet 16. Jest at this pint of the conversation another swarm of orfice-seekers arrove & c.u.m pilin into the parler. Sum wanted post orfices, sum wanted collectorships, sum wantid furrin missions, and all wanted sumthin. I thought Old Abe would go crazy.

He hadn't more than had time to shake hands with 'em, before another tremenjis crowd c.u.m porein onto his premises. His house and dooryard was now perf.e.c.kly overflowed with orfice seekers, all clameruss for a immejit interview with Old Abe. One man from Ohio, who had about seven inches of corn whisky into him, mistook me for Old Abe and addrest me as "The Pra-hayrie Flower of the West!" Thinks I _you_ want a offiss putty bad.

Another man with a gold-heded cane and a red nose told Old Abe he was "a seckind Washington & the Pride of the Boundliss West."

Sez I, "Square, you wouldn't take a small post-offiss if you could git it, would you?"

Sez he, "A patrit is abuv them things, sir!"

"There's a putty big crop of patrits this season, ain't there, Squire?"

sez I, when _another_ crowd of offiss seekers pored in. The house, dooryard, barngs, woodshed was now all full, and when _another_ crowd c.u.m I told 'em not to go away for want of room as the hog-pen was still empty.

One patrit from a small town in Michygan went up on top the house, got into the chimney and slid into the parler where Old Abe was endeverin to keep the hungry pack of orfice-seekers from chawin him up alive without benefit of clergy. The minit he reached the fireplace he jumpt up, brusht the soot out of his eyes, and yelled: "Don't make eny pintment at the s.p.u.n.kville postoffiss till you've read my papers. All the respectful men in our town is signers to that there dockyment!"

"Good G.o.d!" cried Old Abe, "they c.u.m upon me from the skize--down the chimneys, and from the bowels of the yerth!" He hadn't more'n got them words out of his delikit mouth before two fat offiss-seekers from Winconsin, in endeverin to crawl atween his legs for the purpuss of applyin for the tollgateship at Milwawky, upsot the President eleck, & he would hev gone sprawlin into the fireplace if I hadn't caught him in these arms. But I hadn't more'n stood him up strate before another man c.u.m crashing down the chimney, his head strikin me viliently again the inards and prostratin my voluptoous form onto the floor. "Mr. Linkin," shoutid the infatooated being, "my papers is signed by every clergyman in our town, and likewise the skoolmaster!"

Sez I, "You egrejis a.s.s," gittin up & brushin the dust from my eyes, "I'll sign your papers with this bunch of bones, if you don't be a little more keerful how you make my bread basket a depot in the futur. How do you like that air perfumery?" sez I, shuving my fist under his nose. "Them's the kind of papers I'll giv you! Them's the papers _you_ want!"

"But I workt hard for the ticket; I toiled night and day! The patrit should be rewarded!"

"Virtoo," sed I, holdin' the infatooated man by the coat-collar, "virtoo, sir, is its own reward. Look at me!" He did look at me, and qualed be4 my gase. "The fact is," I continued, lookin' round on the hungry crowd, "there is scacely a offiss for every ile lamp carrid round durin' this campane. I wish thare was. I wish thare was furrin missions to be filled on varis lonely Islands where eprydemics rage incessantly, and if I was in Old Abe's place I'd send every mother's son of you to them. What air you here for?" I continnered, warmin up considerable, "can't you giv Abe a minit's peace? Don't you see he's worrid most to death? Go home, you miserable men, go home & till the sile! Go to peddlin tinware--go to choppin wood--go to bilin' sope--stuff sa.s.sengers--black boots--git a clerkship on sum respectable manure cart--go round as original Swiss Bell Ringers--bec.u.m 'origenal and only' Campbell Minstrels--go to lecturin at 50 dollars a nite--imbark in the peanut bizniss--_write for the Ledger_--saw off your legs and go round givin concerts, with tuchin appeals to a charitable public, printed on your handbills--anything for a honest living, but don't come round here drivin Old Abe crazy by your outrajis cuttings up! Go home. Stand not upon the order of your goin', but go to onct! Ef in five minits from this time," sez I, pullin' out my new sixteen dollar huntin cased watch and brandishin' it before their eyes, "Ef in five minits from this time a single sole of you remains on these here premises, I'll go out to my cage near by, and let my Boy Constructor loose! & ef he gits amung you, you'll think old Solferino has c.u.m again and no mistake!" You ought to hev seen them scamper, Mr. Fair. They run of as tho Satun hisself was arter them with a red hot ten p.r.o.nged pitchfork.

In five minits the premises was clear.

"How kin I ever repay you, Mr. Ward, for your kindness?" sed Old Abe, advancin and shakin me warmly by the hand. "How kin I ever repay you, sir?"

"By givin the whole country a good, sound administration. By poerin' ile upon the troubled waturs, North and South. By pursooin' a patriotic, firm, and just course, and then if any State wants to secede, let 'em Sesesh!"

"How 'bout my Cabinit, Mister Ward?" sed Abe.

"Fill it up with Showmen, sir! Showmen, is devoid of politics. They hain't got any principles. They know how to cater for the public. They know what the public wants, North & South. Showmen, sir, is honest men. Ef you doubt their literary ability, look at their posters, and see small bills! Ef you want a Cabinit as is a Cabinit fill it up with showmen, but don't call on me. The moral wax figger perfeshun mustn't be permitted to go down while there's a drop of blood in these vains! A. Linkin, I wish you well! Ef Powers or Walcutt wus to pick out a model for a beautiful man, I scarcely think they'd sculp you; but ef you do the fair thing by your country you'll make as putty a angel as any of us! A. Linkin, use the talents which Nature has put into you judishusly and firmly, and all will be well!

A. Linkin, adoo!"

He shook me cordyully by the hand--we exchanged picters, so we could gaze upon each others' liniments, when far away from one another--he at the h.e.l.lum of the ship of State, and I at the h.e.l.lum of the show bizniss--admittance only 15 cents.

Chapter IV: Some Lincoln Anecdotes

Let us now get back to that room in the White House again. After Lincoln had finished reading from Ward's book we talked about the author.

The two stories long accredited to Ward at which Mr. Lincoln laughed most heartily that day included the anecdote of the gray-haired lover who hoped to win a young wife and who, when asked by a neighbor how he was progressing with his suit, answered, with enthusiasm, "All right."

When the neighbor then asked, "Has she called you 'Honey' yet?" the old man answered, "Well, not exactly that, but she called me the next thing to it. She has called me 'Old Beeswax'!"

Another story which Lincoln accredited to Ward had to do with a visit the latter was supposed to have made in his country clothes and manners to a fashionable evening party. Ward, not wishing to show the awkwardness he felt, stepped boldly up to an aristocratic lady and said, "You are a very handsome woman!" The woman took it to be an insulting piece of rude flattery and replied, spitefully, "I wish I could say the same thing of you!" Whereupon Ward boldly remarked, "Well, you could if you were as big a liar as I am!"

Ward once stated that Lincoln told him that he was an expert at raising corn to fatten hogs, but, unfortunately for his creditors, they were his neighbor's hogs.

During this conversation the President sat leaning back in his desk chair with one long leg thrown over a corner of the Cabinet table. He had removed his right cuff--I presume to be better able to sign his name to the various doc.u.ments with which the table was littered--and he did not trouble to put it on again. He wore a black frock coat very wrinkled and shiny, and trousers of the same description. His necktie was black and one end of it was caught under the flap of his turnover collar. Yet his appearance did not give one an impression of disorder; rather he looked like a neat workingman of the better sort.

As I sat talking with the President a strong light flooded the Cabinet Room through the great south windows. Outside one could see the Potomac River sparkling in the bright winter sunshine. This strong illumination revealed the deep lines of the President's face. He looked so haggard and careworn after his long vigil (he had been at work since two o'clock in the morning) that I said:

"You are very tired. I ought not to stay here and talk to you."

"Please sit still," he replied, quickly. "I am very tired and I can get rested; and you are an excuse for not letting anybody else in until I do get rested."

So I understood the reason, or perhaps it would be fairer to say the excuse, for granting me this remarkable privilege.

Somehow the subject of education came up, and when Lincoln asked me if I was a college man I told him I had left Yale College Law School to go to war. Then he recounted an amusing experience which he once had in New Haven. He went to the old New Haven House to spend the night, and was given a room looking out on Chapel Street and the Green. Students were seated on the rail of the fence across the street, singing. Mr. Lincoln said that all he could remember of Yale College as a result of that visit was a continual repet.i.tion in the song they were singing:

"My old horse he came from Jerusalem, came from Jerusalem, came from Jerusalem, leaning on the lamb."

He said whimsically that he thought this was a good sample of college education as he had found it. Yet the President did not belittle the advantages to be gained by a college education properly and seriously applied. He said he often felt that he had missed a great deal by his failure to secure these advantages even though he thought the usual college education was inadequate and very impractical. He had found in his experience with the army that it took army officers from college just as long to learn military science as it did a young man from a farm.

Then the President asked me how I, as a poor farmer's boy, got along at Yale. I told him I taught music in Yale to earn part of my living--dug potatoes in the afternoon, and taught music in the evening. Then he got up and walked up and down the room with his hands behind him, while he gave me quite a discourse on his opinion of music, and especially of church music.

He said the inconsistency of church music was something that astonished him: that if you go to any place other than a church the music is always appropriate for the place and time. In the theater, for example, they sing songs which have some connection with the acting. (Perhaps that example would not apply to-day.) But in church very often there did not seem to be any relation whatever between what the congregation or the choir sings and the sermon. Then he told me about some "highfalutin'

songs" he had heard in church, which he said would be ridiculous if it was not in church; he was disgusted with the lack of sacred art and of appropriateness in church music. He finished by saying that he did not favor "dance music at a funeral." There is a good deal of common sense in that!