- Joined
- Jul 23, 2017
- Location
- Southwest Missouri
A man appeared at the landing, dressed in gray homespun, of a somewhat decayed appearance, and with a staff about six feet long in his hand. It was, in fact, nothing more than a stick taken from a wood-pile. It was about two inches in diameter, and was not even smoothed at the knots. It was just such a weapon as a man would pick up to kill a mad dog with.
“Who are you, and what do you want ?” asked the officer of the deck. “You can not come on board unless you have important business.”
“I am Duff Green,” said the man. “I want to see Abraham Lincoln, and my business concerns myself alone. You tell Abraham Lincoln Duff Green wants to see him.”
The officer came down into the cabin and delivered the message. I arose and said, “I will go up and send him away,” but the President interposed.
“Let him come on board,” he said; “Duff is an old friend of mine, and I would like to talk to him.”
I then went on deck to have a boat sent for him and to see what kind of a man this was who sent off such arrogant messages to the President of the United States. He stepped into the boat as if it belonged to him; instead of sitting down he stood up, leaning on his long staff. When he came over the side he stood on the deck defiantly, looked up at the flag and scowled, and then, turning to me, whom he knew very well, he said, “I want to see Abraham Lincoln.” He paid no courtesy to me or to the quarter deck.
It had been a very long time since he had shaved or cut his hair, and he might have come under the head “unkempt and not canny.”
“When you come in a respectful manner,” I said, “the President will see you; but throw away that cord of wood you have in your hand before entering the President’s presence.”
“How long is it,” he said, “since Abraham Lincoln took to aping royalty? Man, clothed in brief authority, cuts such fantastic capers before high heaven as make the angels weep. I can expect airs from a naval officer, but I don’t expect them in a man with Abraham Lincoln’s horse sense.”
I thought the man crazy, and think so still. “I can’t permit you to see the President,” I said, “until I receive further instructions; but you can’t see him at all until you throw that wood-pile overboard.”
He turned on his heel and tried to throw the stick on shore, but it fell short, and went floating down with the current.
“Ah,” he said, “has it come to that? Is he afraid of assassination? Tyrants generally get into that condition.”
I went down and reported this queer customer to the President, and told him I thought the man insane; but he said, “Let him come down; he always was a little queer. I sha’n’t mind him.”
Mr. Duff Green was shown into the cabin.
The President got up from his chair to receive him, and, approaching, offered him his hand.
“No,” said Green, with a tragic air, “it is red with blood; I can’t touch it. When I knew it, it was an honest hand. It has cut the throats of thousands of my people, and their blood, which now lies soaking into the ground, cries aloud to Heaven for vengeance. I came to see you, not for old remembrance’ sake, but to give you a piece of my opinion. You won’t like it, but I don’t care, for people don’t generally like to have the truth told them. You have come here, protected by your army and navy, to gloat over the ruin and desolation you have caused. You are a second Nero, and, had you lived in his day, you would have fiddled while Home was burning!”
When the fanatic commenced this tirade of abuse Mr. Lincoln was standing with his hand outstretched, his mouth wreathed with the pleasant smile it almost always wore, and his eyes lighted up as when anything pleased him. He was pleased because about to meet an old and esteemed friend, and better pleased that this friend had come to see him of his own accord.
The outstretched hand was gradually withdrawn as Duff Green started on his talk, the smile left the President’s lips as the talker got to the middle of his harangue, and the softness of his eyes faded out. He was another man altogether.
Had any one closed his eyes after Duff Green commenced speaking, and opened them when he stopped, he would have seen a perfect transformation. The hearer’s slouchy manner had disappeared, his mouth was compressed, his eyes were fixed, even his stature appeared increased.
Duff Green went on without noticing the change in the President’s manner and appearance. “You came here,” he continued, ‘to triumph over a poor, conquered town, with only women and children in it; whose soldiers have left it, and would rather starve than see your hateful presence here; those soldiers—and only a handful at that—who have for four years defied your paid mercenaries on those glorious hills, and have taught you to respect the rights of the South. You have given your best blood to conquer them, and now you will march back to your demoralized capital and lay out your wits to win them over so that you can hold this Government in perpetuity. Shame on you! Shame on—”
Mr. Lincoln could stand it no longer; his coarse hair stood on end, and his nostrils dilated like those of an excited race-horse. He stretched out his long right arm, and extended his lean forefinger until it almost touched Duff Green’s face. He made one step forward, to place himself as near as possible to this vituperator, and in a clear, cutting voice addressed him. He was really graceful while he spoke—with the grace of one expressing his honest convictions.
“Stop, you political tramp,” he exclaimed, “you, the aider and abettor of those who have brought all this ruin upon your country, without the courage to risk your person in defense of the principles you profess to espouse! A fellow who stood by to gather up the loaves and fishes, if any should fall to you! A man who had no principles in the North, and took none South with him! A political hyena who robbed the graves of the dead, and adopted their language as his own! You talk of the North cutting the throats of the Southern people. You have all cut your own throats, and, unfortunately, have cut many of those of the North. Miserable impostor, vile intruder! Go, before I forget myself and the high position I hold! Go, I tell you, and don’t desecrate this national vessel another minute!” And he made a step toward him.
This was something Duff Green had not calculated upon; he had never seen Abraham Lincoln in anger. His courage failed him, and he turned and fled out of the cabin and up the cabin-stairs as if the avenging angel was after him. He never stopped till he reached the gangway, and there he stood, looking at the shore, seemingly measuring the distance, to see if he could swim to the landing.
I was close behind him, and when I got on deck I said to the officer in charge, “Put that man on shore, and if he appears in sight of this vessel while we are here, have him sent away with scant ceremony.”
He was as humble at that moment as a whipped dog, and hurried into the boat when ordered.
The last I saw of him he was striding rapidly over the fields, as if to reach the shelter of the woods. When I returned to the cabin, about fifteen minutes later, the President was perfectly calm—as if nothing had happened—and did not revert to the subject for some hours.