After the reading of the inaugural and the oath of office, administered by the venerable Chief-Justice Taney, Mr. Lincoln was escorted back to the White House, where Mr. Buchanan took leave of him, and where he received the large number of persons who called to see him.
During the afternoon, Mrs. Lincoln took possession of the White House, and her eventful life commenced in Washington.
The following days were spent with her sisters in happy bustle and excitement, arranging for the first levee, and domesticating themselves in their new abode.
It was held the 9th of March, and was the only one of the season. Her personal appearance was described in these words:
“Mrs. Lincoln stood a few paces from her husband, assisted by her sisters, Mrs. Edwards and Mrs. Baker, together with two of her nieces, and was attired in a rich pink moire-antique, pearl ornaments, and flowers in her hair and hands. She is a pleasant-looking, elegant-appearing lady, of perhaps forty, somewhat inclined to stoutness, but withal fine-looking and self-possessed.” The levee was a brilliant one, and many citizens and strangers, not accustomed to taking part in the gay world about them, did themselves the pleasure of paying their respects to the new President and his family. It was perhaps the proudest occasion of Mrs. Lincoln’s life—a triumph she had often mused upon and looked forward to as in store for her. The desire of her heart was gratified, and she was mistress of the White House.
Mrs. Lincoln was a fortunate woman in that she secured the measure of her ambition, but it was the impartial judgment of her friends that she was not a happy person. The match was an unfortunate one, in that it united two people of widely divergent tastes and characteristics. Mr. Lincoln was utterly devoid of those social qualities which would have made him agreeable in the drawing-room and in the presence of fashionable people. His wife was fond of society, pleased with excitement, and gratified to be among the gay and brilliant company which she, by reason of her husband’s position, found herself in. She would have made the White House, socially, what it was under other administrations, but that was impossible. She found herself surrounded on every side by people who were ready to exaggerate her shortcomings, find fault with her deportment on all occasions and criticise her performance of all her semi-official duties. The state dinners were abandoned and she was said to be parsimonious. Weekly receptions were substituted, and her entertainments were made the topic of remark. The first two years of the administration of Mr. Lincoln were years of the severest trial to him, and his gloom and absorption affected his family. The death of Willie, the second son, occurred during this period of anxiety, and for nearly two more years the President’s family were in mourning. Mrs. Lincoln grieved long and deeply over her loss, and it was not possible for either husband or wife to allude to him without showing intense feeling. Mr. Lincoln rarely mentioned his name, and Mrs. Lincoln never afterward entered the room where he died, or the Blue Room in which his body lay. Several instances are told by Mr. Carpenter, the artist, of the affection entertained by the President for his sons. On one occasion while paying a visit to Commodore Porter at Fortress Monroe, “Tad,” the youngest son, accompanied his father, and the latter, noticing that the banks of the river were dotted with spring blossoms, the President said, with the manner of one asking a special favor: “Commodore, Tad is very fond of flowers; won’t you let a couple of your men take a boat and go with him for an hour or two along shore, and gather a few? it will be a great gratification to him.” On another occasion, while he was at Fortress Monroe awaiting military operations upon the Peninsula, he called his aide, who was writing in the adjoining room, and read to him selections from “Hamlet” and “King John.” Reciting the words where Constance bewails her imprisoned lost boy, Mr. Lincoln said: “Colonel, did you ever dream of a lost friend, and feel that you were holding sweet communion with that friend, and yet have a sad consciousness that it was not a reality? Just so I dream of my boy Willie.” Overcome with emotion, he dropped his head on the table and sobbed aloud.
A man who could thus feel towards his children may well be called an excellent father: and such Mr. Lincoln was. He was, as a lady relative of his who spent many months in his house said of him, “all that a husband, father and neighbor should be: kind and affectionate to his wife and child and very pleasant to all around him. Never,” said she, “did I hear him utter an unkind word.”
Mr. Herndon, Mr. Lincoln’s law partner, who knew both husband and wife well, summed up his estimate, based on long acquaintance, in a single sentence: “All that I know ennobles both.” Mrs. Lincoln was a lonely woman much of the time spent in the White House. The President had but little leisure to devote to her, and the state of the country was such that any display or gayety seemed out of keeping with the position she occupied. In the summer of 1864, the political canvas absorbed attention, and much of the season Mrs. Lincoln spent at the watering-places. In the autumn she renewed the receptions, and after the re-election of Mr. Lincoln the White House habitués saw promise of more pleasure than had been enjoyed there. The New Year reception of 1865 was the most brilliant entertainment given by the administration. Thousands of people paid their respects to the President and Mrs. Lincoln, and congratulated them on the confidence reposed in him by the people. The war was drawing to a close, and the North was inclined to look upon the Union as well-nigh restored. The inauguration was anxiously looked forward to, and when it was safely over the people breathed freer, and gave up the fear that had oppressed them.
There was general rejoicing in the land when the long anticipated peace was declared. General Lee surrendered on the 9th of April, and the White House was the scene of excitement from that time on to the close of the President’s life. People thronged to congratulate him, and from all parts of the nation telegrams poured in upon him. The 14th of April was the fourth anniversary of the fall of Sumter, and on that evening the President, Mrs. Lincoln, Major Rathbone, of the United States army, and a daughter of Senator Harris attended, by invitation, the performance at Ford’s Theatre. A large audience greeted the President as he took his seat at the front of the private box. As he sat waiting for the curtain to rise on the third act, looking pensive and sad, as was his wont, he was shot from behind by John Wilkes Booth, the leader of a gang of conspirators, who had carefully matured their plans to kill the President and members of the Cabinet. The shot was a deadly one, and total insensibility followed it.
Mrs. Lincoln, unnerved by the sudden and terrible event, was assisted from the theatre to a house across the street, where her husband had been taken. She remained beside him until death released him from all pain. The return to the White House was a journey never to be forgotten by those who witnessed it. The grief of Mrs. Lincoln and her children was shared by a nation of people, but nothing could restore the dead, or give back the husband and father who went out from their midst so well only the evening before.