POLITICAL

CHAPTER V.

HIS SIMPLICITY.

definitions have undergone some curious

changes in this country since the beginning of the present century. In the year 1801, Thomas Jefferson was the first "republican" President of the United States, as the term was then defined. Sixty years later, Abraham Lincoln was hailed as our first Republican President. The Sage of Monticello was, indeed, the first to introduce at the Executive Mansion a genuine republican code of social and official etiquette. It was a wide departure from the ceremonial and showy observances for which Hamilton, his great rival, had so long contended, and which were peculiarly distasteful to the hardy freemen of the new Republic.

Mr. Lincoln profoundly admired the Virginian. Nothing in the career or the policy of Jefferson was nearer his heart than the homely and healthful republicanism implied in the term "Jeffersonian simplicity." While Mr. Lincoln occupied the White House, his intercourse with his fellow-citizens was fashioned after the Jeffersonian idea. He believed that there should be the utmost freedom of intercourse between the people and their President. Jefferson had the truly republican idea

that he was the servant of the people, not their master. That was Lincoln's idea also. Jefferson welcomed to the White House the humble mechanic and the haughty aristocrat with the same unaffected cordiality. Mr. Lincoln did the same. "There is no smell of royalty about this establishment," was a jocular expression which I have heard Mr. Lincoln use many times; and it was thoroughly characteristic of the man.

"Lincolnian simplicity" was, in fact, an improvement on the code of his illustrious predecessor. The doors of the White House were always open. Mr. Lincoln was always ready to greet visitors, no matter what their rank or calling, to hear their complaints, their petitions, or their suggestions touching the conduct of public affairs. The ease with which he could be approached vastly increased his labor. It also led to many scenes at the White House that were strangely amusing and sometimes dramatic.

Early in the year 1865, certain influential citizens of Missouri, then in Washington, held a meeting to consider the disturbed state of the border counties, and to formulate a plan for securing Executive interference in behalf of their oppressed fellow-citizens. They "whereased" and "resolved" at great length, and finally appointed a committee charged with the duty of visiting Mr. Lincoln, of stating their grievances, and of demanding the removal of General Fisk and the appointment of Gen. John B. McPherson in his place. The committee consisted of an ex-governor and several able and earnest

gentlemen deeply impressed with the importance of their mission.

They entered the White House with some trepidation. It was at a critical period of the war, and they supposed it would be difficult to get the ear of the President. Grant was on the march to Richmond, and Sherman's army was returning from the sea. The committee knew that Mr. Lincoln would be engaged in considering the momentous events then developing, and they were therefore greatly surprised to find the doors thrown open to them. They were cordially invited to enter Mr. Lincoln's office.

The ex-governor took the floor in behalf of the oppressed Missourians. He first presented the case of a certain lieutenant, who was described as a very lonely Missourian, an orphan, his family and relatives having joined the Confederate army. Through evil reports and the machinations of enemies this orphan had got into trouble. Among other things the orator described the orphan's arrest, his trial and conviction on the charge of embezzling the money of the government; and he made a moving appeal to the President for a reopening of the case and the restoration of the abused man to his rank and pay in the army. The papers in the case were handed to Mr. Lincoln, and he was asked to examine them for himself.

The bulky package looked formidable. Mr. Lincoln took it up and began reading aloud: "Whereas, conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman "-"Whereas,

without resentment the said lieutenant received a letter stating that the President must

from a man named

be a negro; " and "Whereas, the said lieutenant corruptly received while an officer on duty, from a man in the sum of forty dollars—"

"Stop there!" exclaimed the lieutenant, who was at that moment behind the ex-governor's chair. "Why, Mr. Lincoln beg pardon- Mr. President, it wa' n't but thirty dollars."

"Yes," said the governor," that charge, Mr. President, is clearly wrong. It was only thirty dollars, as we can prove."

"Governor," said Mr. Lincoln, who was by this time thoroughly amused, but grave as a judge, "that reminds me of a man in Indiana, who was in a battle of words with a neighbor. One charged that the other's daughter had three illegitimate children. Now,' said the man whose family was so outrageously scandalized, 'that's a lie, and I can prove it, for she only has two.' This case is no better. Whether the amount was thirty dollars or thirty thousand dollars, the culpability is the same." Then, after reading a little further, he said: "I believe I will leave this case where it was left by the officers who tried it."

The ex-governor next presented a very novel case. With the most solemn deliberation he began: "Mr. President, I want to call your attention to the case of Betsy Ann Dougherty, -a good woman. She lived in

-County, and did my washing for a long time. Her

husband went off and joined the rebel army, and I wish you would give her a protection paper." The solemnity of this appeal struck Mr. Lincoln as uncommonly ridiculous.

The two men looked at each other,the governor desperately in earnest, and the President masking his humor behind the gravest exterior. At last Mr. Lincoln asked with inimitable gravity, "Was Betsy Ann a good washerwoman?"

"Oh, yes, sir; she was indeed."

"Was your Betsy Ann an obliging woman?

"Yes, she was certainly very kind," responded the governor, soberly.

"Could she do other things than wash?" continued Mr. Lincoln, with the same portentous gravity.

"Oh, yes; she was very kind—very."

"Where is Betsy Ann?"

"She is now in New York, and wants to come back to Missouri; but she is afraid of banishment."

"Is anybody meddling with her?"

"No; but she is afraid to come back unless you will give her a protection paper."

Thereupon Mr. Lincoln wrote on a visiting card the following:

Let Betsy Ann Dougherty alone as long as she behaves herself. A. LINCOLN.

He handed this card to her advocate, saying, "Give this to Betsy Ann.”