ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

obstinacy) on rare occasions, involving great points; but he was
generally very easy, flexible, tolerant, almost slouchy, respecting
minor matters. I note that even those reports and anecdotes
intended to level him down, all leave the tinge of a favorable
impression of him. As to his religious nature, it seems to me to
have certainly been of the amplest, deepest-rooted, loftiest kind.

Already a new generation begins to tread the stage, since the
persons and events of the Secession War. I have more than once
fancied to myself the time when the present century has closed,
and a new one open'd, and the men and deeds of that contest
have become somewhat vague and mythical—fancied perhaps in
some great Western city, or group collected together, or public
festival, where the days of old, of 1863 and '4 and '5 are dis-
cuss'd—some ancient soldier sitting in the background as the
talk goes on, and betraying himself by his emotion and moist
eyes—like the journeying Ithacan at the banquet of King Alci-
nous, when the bard sings the contending warriors and their
battles on the plains of Troy:

> "So from the sluices of Ulysses' eyes
> Fast fell the tears, and sighs succeeded sighs."

I have fancied, I say, some such venerable relic of this time
of ours, preserv'd to the next or still the next generation of
America. I have fancied, on such occasion, the young men
gathering around; the awe, the eager questions: "What! have
you seen Abraham Lincoln—and heard him speak—and touch'd
his hand? Have you, with your own eyes, look'd on Grant, and
Lee, and Sherman?"

Dear to Democracy, to the very last! And among the para-
doxes generated by America, not the least curious was that spec-
tacle of all the kings and queens and emperors of the earth,
many from remote distances, sending tributes of condolence and
sorrow in memory of one rais'd through the commonest average
of life—a rail-splitter and flat-boatman!

Consider'd from contemporary points of view—who knows
what the future may decide?—and from the points of view of
current Democracy and The Union, (the only thing like passion
or infatuation in the man was the passion for the Union of
These States,) Abraham Lincoln seems to me the grandest figure
yet, on all the crowded canvas of the Nineteenth Century.

[From the New Orleans Picayune, Jan. 25, 1887.]

NEW ORLEANS IN 1848.

WALT WHITMAN GOSSIPS OF HIS SOJOURN HERE YEARS AGO
AS A NEWSPAPER WRITER. NOTES OF HIS TRIP UP THE
MISSISSIPPI AND TO NEW YORK.

AMONG the letters brought this morning (Camden, New Jer-
sey, Jan. 15, 1887,) by my faithful post-office carrier, J. G., is
*one* as follows:

"NEW ORLEANS, Jan. 11, '87.—We have been informed that when you were younger and less famous than now, you were in New Orleans and perhaps have helped on the *Picayune*. If you have any remembrance of the *Picayune's* young days, or of journalism in New Orleans of that era, and would put it in writing (verse or prose) for the *Picayune's* fifteenth year edition, Jan. 25, we shall be pleased," etc.

In response to which: I went down to New Orleans early in
1848 to work on a daily newspaper, but it was not the *Picayune*,
though I saw quite a good deal of the editors of that paper, and
knew its personnel and ways. But let me indulge my pen in
some gossipy recollections of that time and place, with extracts
from my journal up the Mississippi and across the great lakes to
the Hudson.

Probably the influence most deeply pervading everything at
that time through the United States, both in physical facts and
in sentiment, was the Mexican War, then just ended. Following
a brilliant campaign (in which our troops had march'd to the
capital city, Mexico, and taken full possession,) we were return-
ing after our victory. From the situation of the country, the
city of New Orleans had been our channel and *entrepot* for
everything, going and returning. It had the best news and war
correspondents; it had the most to say, through its leading
papers, the *Picayune* and *Delta* especially, and its voice was
readiest listen'd to; from it "Chapparal" had gone out, and his
army and battle letters were copied everywhere, not only in the
United States, but in Europe. Then the social cast and results;
no one who has never seen the society of a city under similar
circumstances can understand what a strange vivacity and *rattle*

(100)

NEW ORLEANS IN 1848.

were given throughout by such a situation. I remember the
crowds of soldiers, the gay, young officers, going or coming,
the receipt of important news, the many discussions, the return-
ing wounded, and so on.

I remember very well seeing Gen. Taylor with his staff and
other officers at the St. Charles Theatre one evening (after talk-
ing with them during the day.) There was a short play on the
stage, but the principal performance was of Dr. Colyer's troupe
of "Model Artists," then in the full tide of their popularity.
They gave many fine groups and solo shows. The house was
crowded with uniforms and shoulder-straps. Gen. T. himself,
if I remember right, was almost the only officer in civilian
clothes; he was a jovial, old, rather stout, plain man, with a
wrinkled and dark-yellow face, and, in ways and manners,
show'd the least of conventional ceremony or etiquette I ever
saw; he laugh'd unrestrainedly at everything comical. (He had
a great personal resemblance to Fenimore Cooper, the novelist,
of New York.) I remember Gen. Pillow and quite a cluster of
other militaires also present.

One of my choice amusements during my stay in New Orleans
was going down to the old French Market, especially of a Sunday
morning. The show was a varied and curious one; among the
rest, the Indian and negro bucksters with their wares. For there
were always fine specimens of Indians, both men and women,
young and old. I remember I nearly always on these occasions
got a large cup of delicious coffee with a biscuit, for my break-
fast, from the immense shining copper kettle of a great Creole
mulatto woman (I believe she weigh'd 230 pounds.) I never
have had such coffee since. About nice drinks, anyhow, my re-
collection of the "cobblers" (with strawberries and snow on top
of the large tumblers,) and also the exquisite wines, and the per-
fect and mild French brandy, help the regretful reminiscence of
my New Orleans experiences of those days. And what splendid
and roomy and leisurely bar-rooms! particularly the grand ones
of the St. Charles and St. Louis. Bargains, auctions, appoint-
ments, business conferences, &c., were generally held in the
spaces or recesses of these bar-rooms.

I used to wander a midday hour or two now and then for amuse-
ment on the crowded and bustling levees, on the banks of the
river. The diagonally wedg'd-in boats, the stevedores, the piles
of cotton and other merchandise, the carts, mules, negroes, etc.,
afforded never-ending studies and sights to me. I made acquaint-
ances among the captains, boatmen, or other characters, and often
had long talks with them—sometimes finding a real rough dia-
mond among my chance encounters. Sundays I sometimes went

NEW ORLEANS IN 1848.

102

forenoons to the old Catholic Cathedral in the French quarter. I used to walk a good deal in this arrondissement; and I have deeply regretted since that I did not cultivate, while I had such a good opportunity, the chance of better knowledge of French and Spanish Creole New Orleans people. (I have an idea that there is much and of importance about the Latin race contributions to American nationality in the South and Southwest that will never be put with sympathetic understanding and tact on record.)

Let me say, for better detail, that through several months (1848) I work'd on a new daily paper, *The Crescent*; my situation rather a pleasant one. My young brother, Jeff, was with me; and he not only grew very homesick, but the climate of the place, and especially the water, seriously disagreed with him. From this and other reasons (although I was quite happily fix'd) I made no very long stay in the South. In due time we took passage northward for St. Louis in the "Pride of the West" steamer, which left her wharf just at dusk. My brother was unwell, and lay in his berth from the moment we left till the next morning; he seem'd to me to be in a fever, and I felt alarm'd. However, the next morning he was all right again, much to my relief.

Our voyage up the Mississippi was after the same sort as the voyage, some months before, down it. The shores of this great river are very monotonous and dull—one continuous and rank flat, with the exception of a meagre stretch of bluff, about the neighborhood of Natchez, Memphis, etc. Fortunately we had good weather, and not a great crowd of passengers, though the berths were all full. The "Pride" jogg'd along pretty well, and put us into St. Louis about noon Saturday. After looking around a little I secured passage on the steamer "Prairie Bird," (to leave late in the afternoon,) bound up the Illinois River to La Salle, where we were to take canal for Chicago. During the day I rambled with my brother over a large portion of the town, search'd after a refectory, and, after much trouble, succeeded in getting some dinner.

Our "Prairie Bird" started out at dark, and a couple of hours after there was quite a rain and blow, which made them haul in along shore and tie fast. We made but thirty miles the whole night. The boat was excessively crowded with passengers, and had withal so much freight that we could hardly turn around. I slept on the floor, and the night was uncomfortable enough. The Illinois River is spotted with little villages with big names, Marseilles, Naples, etc.; its banks are low, and the vegetation excessively rank. Peoria, some distance up, is a pleasant town; I

SMALL MEMORANDA.

106

these pardons. Every single one is made out with the condition
that the grantee shall respect the abolition of slavery, and never
make an attempt to restore it.

*Washington, Sept. 8, 9, &c., 1865.*—The arrivals, swarms, &c., of the $20,000 men seeking pardons, still continue with in-creas'd numbers and pertinacity. I yesterday (I am a clerk in the U. S. Attorney General's office here) made out a long list from Alabama, nearly 200, recommended for pardon by the Pro-visional Governor. This list, in the shape of a requisition from the Attorney General, goes to the State Department. There the Pardon Warrants are made out, brought back here, and then sent to the President, where they await his signature. He is signing them very freely of late.

The President, indeed, as at present appears, has fix'd his
mind on a very generous and forgiving course toward the re-
turn'd secessionists. He will not countenance at all the demand
of the extreme Philo-African element of the North, to make the
right of negro voting at elections a condition and sine qua non
of the reconstruction of the United States south, and of their
resumption of co-equality in the Union.

*A glint inside of Abraham Lincoln's Cabinet appointments.*
*One item of many.*—While it was hanging in suspense who should be appointed Secretary of the Interior, (to take the place of Caleb Smith,) the choice was very close between Mr. Harlan and Col. Jesse K. Dubois, of Illinois. The latter had many friends. He was competent, he was honest, and he was a man. Mr. Harlan, in the race, finally gain'd the Methodist interest, and got himself to be consider'd as identified with it; and his appointment was apparently ask'd for by that powerful body. Bishop Simpson, of Philadelphia, came on and spoke for the selection. The President was much perplex'd. The reasons for appointing Col. Dubois were very strong, almost insuper-able—yet the argument for Mr. Harlan, under the adroit posi-tion he had plac'd himself, was heavy. Those who press'd him adduc'd the magnitude of the Methodists as a body, their loyalty, more general and genuine than any other sect—that they repre-sented the West, and had a right to be heard—that all or nearly all the other great denominations had their representatives in the heads of the government—that they as a body and the great sectarian power of the West, formally ask'd Mr. Harlan's ap-pointment—that he was of them, having been a Methodist minister—that it would not do to offend them, but was highly necessary to propitiate them.