Part 22

And to Tad the title really belonged--to President Lincoln's youngest son--who was a small whirlwind of impetuous despotism; and woe to the man, woman or child who resisted his tempestuous tyranny.

Few did, and the most willing of all his subjects was the great President, whom tyrant Tad ruled despotically.

Before President Lincoln's day there had been a succession of administrations when no children's voices rang through the stately rooms and corridors of the White House, so it was indeed a change when the three Lincoln boys arrived, in March of 1861, bringing with them all the clatter and chatter which belongs to normal healthy boyhood. Robert, who was then eighteen years old only stayed in the White House for his father's inauguration, then went back to Harvard to finish his education, and Willie, and Theodore or "Tad" as he was always called, from his own pronunciation of his name, (the little fellow had a serious defect in his speech which made it hard for him to pronounce words clearly) were left to make the dignified White House echo with their merry laughter and conversations, as they romped through its long passages, careless of the fact that they were on historic ground, as they scattered their balls, bats, kites and other treasures wherever they chose.

They had few playmates, with whom they were allowed to play frequently, except two boys, the sons of a government official, and the four boys' fertile brains were keen to think out all sorts of exciting and mischievous plans which kept their families on the alert to restrain their actions within the bounds of safety and propriety. The boys who were playmates of Tad and Willie were Budd and Hally Taft, and although they were older than the Lincoln boys, they were much like them in temperament and in looks, Budd was fair like Willie Lincoln, and Hally dark, and more like Tad, whose eyes were bright and brown, in keeping with his quick imperious disposition.

One evening in the spring, the four boys were taken to see a minstrel show in the city. They were thrilled by what they heard and saw, and decided on the spot that they would give a show themselves, and began between the numbers to plan when and where to give it. But, on the following day, when they discussed it again there seemed to be no room suited to their plans either in the White House or at the Taft's, but finally they decided that by having some partitions in the Taft attic, which was roughly divided into small bedrooms, taken down, they could be accommodated. However, fortune favoured the preservation of the Taft home by a sudden shifting of the boys' interest in the direction of the White House. Mrs. Lincoln was called to New York for a week; Willie and Tad had such severe colds and the weather was so rainy, that she wished them to be amused in the house during her absence, and that could only be done by giving them the society of their playmates. Accordingly one day Hally and Budd were thrown into a state of feverish excitement by the arrival of a messenger with Mrs. Lincoln's invitation for them to spend a whole week at the White House.

Besides delivering the invitation, the messenger also asked whether Willie and Tad were there, as they had not been at home since breakfast time, although they had been traced to the Capitol, where they had been seen sitting in the gallery of the House of Representatives, and later treated to lunch in the restaurant of Congress by a gentleman whom the boys always amused, then they had been seen playing marbles with some of the pages in the Capitol, but now where were they? The messenger who was well acquainted with the truants, seemed more amused than alarmed over their disappearance, and soon carried back a note to Mrs. Lincoln accepting the invitation for Budd and Hally, provided the truants should be found! While Budd and Hally were excitedly helping to pack their clothes in a small valise, for the visit, in walked the wanderers. They carried a very large and much dilapidated umbrella which Tad said they had borrowed from the cook--doubtless a Southern mammy who took an endless delight in the boys' pranks, and aided them all she could in their mischievous plans. Tad's pockets were bulging with marbles, which showed how successfully he had played his game with the pages earlier in the day, and both boys had entirely forgotten that they had bad colds. All four soon set out in high glee together, while Tad gave a whoop of joy as they left the house.

"You bet we'll have a good time!" he exclaimed, and from all descriptions of that visit, they certainly must have had it.

On the following day there was a review, and the boys all rode in the President's carriage, looking as severe and dignified as if they had never had a mischievous idea, but, with a feeling of mistrust that such dignity might be only skin deep, a member of the Taft family went to the White House to find out what was going on. To her relief she saw that the building was still standing, but on being ushered in, she noticed that all the orderlies, soldiers and doorkeepers wore broad grins. Asking where the boys were, and being ushered upstairs she came upon Tad, who instantly called out:

"Oh, say, we've got a circus in the attic. We're minstrels. I've got to be blacked up and Willie can't get his dress on--it's too big. Pin it up, will you? Hurry!"

The horrified question, "Does the President know it?" was answered impatiently by Tad.

"Oh, yes, he knows it," said Tad. "He doesn't care. He's got some general or other in there. Come on--hurry!"

Willie was meanwhile struggling with the long, flowered skirt of a lilac silk reception dress of Mrs. Lincoln's, and Budd was getting into one of her ruffled morning wrappers, while Tad began to sing at the top of his voice:

"Old Abe Lincoln came out of the wilderness----"

"Hush," cautioned Budd, "the President will hear you."

"I don't care if pa does hear, and he don't care either," said Tad. "We're going to sing that in the show." And sing it they did!

Another day when Tad was shouting out a campaign song at the Tafts' about "Old Abe splitting rails," Willie asked Mrs. Taft if she did not think it was disrespectful of Tad to sing such a song. Tad overheard what he said, and kicked a chair, as he always did when displeased, and said:

"Well, everybody in this world knows Pa did use to split rails!" But when Mrs. Taft explained to him why she thought he ought not to say or sing this, Tad said with equal decision:

"Well, I'll sing John Brown's body then." However headstrong he seemed, he was really very affectionate, and willing to be convinced that he was wrong, if any one approached him in the right way.

There was much to occupy the boys' attention in Washington, and they were especially interested in the models of locomotives and steamboats in the Patent Office, where they spent much time, and they were also sometimes to be found making a survey of the White House grounds under the guidance of a good-natured engineer. At other times they invaded the McClellans' house, where they were allowed to play with the baby and where General and Mrs. McClellan were very kind to them, and of course they never missed a review, even riding in the staff, when the bridle of Willie's horse was held by the Duc de Chartres and Budd's by the Comte de Paris, while Hally and Tad rode in front of the aides, sitting as erect and stiff as if they were the chief features in the parade.

On another day, Tad was not allowed to go to the review, as he had not been well the day before. The review took place across the Long Bridge, and after the President's carriage had passed down the line, a rickety cart came clattering by, drawn by a shambling old horse, and driven by a grinning negro boy. In it were Tad, Willie, Budd and Hally in new Zouave uniforms, their swords at a salute! Many a soldier sighed and smiled as that cart passed by, but there was never a smile on the faces of the Zouaves, who had paid the darkey a quarter from their precious circus money to drive that load of glory!

Having the uniform ready they formed themselves into a military company called "Mrs. Lincoln's Zouaves." Much amused by their military enthusiasm she presented them with a flag, and the President formally reviewed them. Willie was colonel, Budd, major, and Hally, captain, while Tad insisted on having the rank of drum-major or nothing, and all of them had old-fashioned swords which were given to them by General McClellan, who greatly enjoyed their pranks and sometimes suggested new ones. When other amusements failed, the quartet spent their time on the flat roof of the White House, which was perfectly safe, being surrounded by a strong balustrade. There they built a cabin, and the roof was in turn a quarter-deck, or a fort, and they used to raise and lower the flag with proper ceremony, and look off through a spy-glass for a "strange sail," and Budd's sister tells how one day when she ascended to the stronghold with a stern demand for her scissors, which had been missing for several days she was received at the "side" with such strict naval etiquette that she meekly retreated without the scissors.

That first year when President Lincoln was in office was a happy one for his boys and their companions, but all too soon the pleasures came to an end, for Willie Lincoln was stricken with typhoid fever, of which he died. Then the Tafts left Washington and moved to the north, so of the merry group of boys, "Tad" alone remained to enliven the White House, and to amuse himself as best he could in the long days which seemed so quiet in comparison to those which he and his companions had spent together.

But Tad, who was now ten years old, was equal to any emergency, and as resourceful as a dozen ordinary boys, and after the first bitter loneliness had worn off, he made as much commotion by himself as all four boys had made together, and soon became an object of popular attention, as he galloped madly around the grounds on his pony, driving him at break-neck speed, or training his team of dogs on the lawn, or urging his goats to do some impossible feat.

One of the stories told about him at that time was that on a certain day a party of dignified ladies were solemnly and with due reverence inspecting the famous East room, when they heard a deafening clatter at the end of the corridor where the Lincolns' private apartments were, then came a shout of "Get out of the way there!" and Tad the irrepressible, galloped into the room driving a tandem team of goats harnessed to a chair! Up the room and down again and out of the front entrance went the goats and Tad like a flash of lightning, leaving the ladies aghast at a spectacle to which they had found no reference in their guide books.

To his mother's great distress, an interested but not over-thoughtful friend, gave Tad a tool chest, which of course delighted him, and which at once suggested to him the idea of opening a cabinet shop to manufacture furniture for hospital use, but he fortunately discovered an old wagon to experiment on, and forgot the shop; turning his attention also to any and every object which he could bore, chisel, saw or hack with his tools. Nothing was said in remonstrance until he began to experiment on the old-fashioned mahogany furniture in the East room, when that tool chest mysteriously disappeared and no amount of searching ever brought it to light again.

As he was unable to exist without some new outlet for his feelings he decided to have a theatre and give shows, for which purpose he appropriated an unused room in the White House, and had a fine time fitting it up with a stage, seats, orchestra, drop-curtain and all. At that time, Mr. Carpenter, an artist, was at work on a portrait of President Lincoln and his Cabinet, and when it was found necessary to take several photographs of the room in the White House which was to be the background for the painting, Tad's theatre was offered to the photographers to use in developing their pictures, and Mr. Carpenter used to tell with a chuckle of delight how all went well till Tad suddenly discovered the invasion of his room, when he fell upon the artist and blamed him in a fiery burst of temper, for letting the men into his room, and then went up and calmly locked the door, pocketed the key and walked off, leaving the astonished photographers without occupation, as their apparatus and chemicals were in the room. But that made no difference to tyrant Tad--no one should go into his theatre, he said, and no amount of urging moved him. Finally the President was asked to deal with the young rebel, as was usual when Tad's behaviour presented impossibilities to the general public. Mr. Lincoln was sitting ready to be photographed at the time. He listened quietly to the story, and then called Tad and told him to go and open the door. Tad rushed off, muttering and shaking his head but he absolutely refused to obey, even though Mr. Carpenter made use of all the arguments he could think of, to make him yield. Reluctantly the artist went back to the room where the President sat and he at once asked:

"Has the boy opened that door?"

Mr. Carpenter was obliged to say that he had not, and Lincoln slowly rose, compressing his lips and strode out of the room. Soon he returned, carrying the key, which he handed to the artist saying apologetically: