Ten Boys from History

by Kate Dickinson Sweetser

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:

"He is a peculiar child. He was violently excited when I went to him. I said 'Tad, do you know you are making your father a great deal of trouble?' He burst into tears and at once gave me the key."

This little incident shows the affectionate side of tyrant Tad who could always be led, but never driven, and it was to his father's gentle diplomacy that the fiery, impulsive little fellow always responded.

Often Tad would perch on his father's knee, or even on his shoulder, while weighty conferences were going on, and sometimes would insist on spending a whole evening in the executive mansion, finally falling asleep on the floor, when the President would tenderly pick him up and carry him off to bed.