Tad Lincoln's Father

Chapter 8

eight The sixteenth of July was the grand advance “on to Richmond,” and all day, to the music of many bands, the regiments marched through the streets and over the long bridge into Virginia. There were German regiments, not the goose-stepping type made famous by the World War, but of the great Frederick’s tradition, and they sang the lively “Ach, du lieber Augustin” and Luther’s grand old hymn, “Ein Feste Burg.” There was the Sixty-ninth New York, of Irish-born who bore the green flag of Erin with the Stars and Stripes, and the Seventy-ninth New York, the Highlanders with their kilts and bagpipes. Then came New York’s French regiment, the Fifty-fifth, and as they swung along they sang that song not loved by czars and emperors, for when its wild minors whip the air, thrones fall and kingdoms pass away. Aux armes, citoyens! Forimez vos bataillons! Marchons, marchons! qu’un sang impur Abreuve nos sillons. Other regiments chanted “John Brown’s Body.” So they passed, elate, triumphant, with flags flying and guns wreathed in flowers. They came back, most of them, the morning after that Sunday when Washington listened to the guns of Bull Run. Willie and Tad were at our house when we returned from church, Holly and our littlest brother, Willie Taft, clutching their pennies and shocked that “they dismissed Sunday-school without taking up the collection.” tad lincoln’s father 53 Willie Lincoln, much excited, said, “Pa says there’s a battle in Virginia ; that’s big cannons going off that sounds like slamming doors.” It was a disorganized mob that entered the city next day in the drizzling rain. Many of the New York boys knew where Judge Taft lived and remembered his visits to their camp, and they came to our house until it was filled to overflowing. My father was at his office, my mother had gone somewhere with Miss Dorothea Dix, and we children were alone with the servants. Larney, our parlor maid, said, “I always done spec Yankee so’gers got horns, but dese yere ain’t got nary horns.” Yet she took refuge in the coat closet under the stairs and howled for the Lord to save us. Old Aunt Kitty said, “You chilluns don’t want to let on that old marse favors de Yankees, ’cause dem turrible Lou’sana Tigers’ll be here right quick and you’all better go hide in de gyardin.” But we did not want to hide and when mother returned she gathered up everything eatable in the house, and that she could borrow from the neighbors and fed those hungry soldiers. A few years ago I met two old soldiers who remembered being fed at mother’s hasty lunch. And when I was telling these stories to the Confederate veterans at their State home at Beauvoir, Mississippi, I saw a smile go round at the mention of the “turrible Lou’sana Tigers,” and asked how many of them had belonged to that regiment. Two kindly and amiable-looking old gentlemen arose. I am sure that even in their younger days they would have been a great disappointment to Aunt Kitty. I think both Aunt Kitty and Larney were secretly disappointed because my father had not gone with the South. Both had a great disdain for what they called “Yankee notions.” When Uncle Newell and Aunt Jane from the North were visiting us, Aunt Jane missed her coral breastpin, which was found among Larney’s possessions. When mymother expressed herchagrin andsurprise, Larneysaid, “Youknow I wouldn’t take anything from you or young Miss, but that bobolitioner woman ain’t no quality no-how, so I jest natcha’ly gits car’less.” My parents had been somewhat annoyed at my uncle and aunt’s open expression of sympathy for our “down-trodden slaves,” but these seeds of abolition were blown away by Larney’s attitude and Aunt Kitty’s scornful sniffs. 54 tad lincoln’s father Aunt Kitty used to say to me, “Nigger folks has a heap of notions white folks don’t know ’bout and dey oughten t’ neither. I could tell yer heaps o’ things but it would only skeer ye. But dares some things a body oughter know. When you go ter bed, put yore shoes wid de toes pintin’ way from de bed, so you won’t have nightmare...