LINCOLN ROOM UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY MEMORIAL the Class of 1901 founded by HARLAN HOYT HORNER and HENRIETTA CALHOUN HORNER Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://archive.org/details/dramaticlifeofabOOwrig A First National Picture. The Dramatic Life of GEORGE BILLINGS AS ABRAHAM LINCOLN Abraham Lincoln. THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF Abraham Lincoln BY A. M. R. WRIGHT ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM THE PHOTOPLAY A FIRST NATIONAL PICTURE PRESENTED BY AL. AND RAY ROCKETT GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK Made ui the United States oi Amenta Copyright, 1925, by GROSSET & DUNLAP 'For those who like this kind of a book, This is the kind of a book they will like.' Abraham Lincoln. FOREWORD The making of the life and events of Abraham Lincoln into a motion picture was in no sense a for- tuitous circumstance — rather was it a deliberate at- tempt to express the matchless career of our greatest world figure in terms of animated pictures to the end that it might be established beyond argument that an historical subject could be picturized in a manner true to fact and yet be made to carry with it all the elements that go to make a great photo-drama entertaining. Without entertainment value no picture could be pos- sible, for the picture-going public pay to be entertained and it is the box-office returns that enable the producer to pay for his picture and thus encourage him to make other and better ones. Up to the time "Abraham Lincoln" was filmed no great American life in its entirety had been translated into motion pictures and dire prophecies of failure were made for those who might attempt such an en- terprise; the successful picturization of the Lincoln subject, therefore, marks an epoch in cinema history and will give heart to those producers who have long believed that in history there lay an inexhaustible mine of motion picture wealth. The filming of the life of Lincoln was peculiarly difficult for many reasons. There was the threat of sectional intolerance; the al- most insurmountable obstacle in the way of finding a vii viii FOREWORD player capable physically, spiritually and temperament- ally of interpreting the role satisfactorily to the Amer- ican people ; the tremendous scope of the subject which might easily be handled in such a way as to make the picture either hopelessly long, or by ignorant elimina- tion omit events absolutely essential to the understand- ing of the subject. The great problem, therefore, after the selection of a player for Lincoln's part, was the choice of essentials, the handling of the materials in a way to avoid offense and eternal vigilance against that elusive thing known to film-crafters as "hokum." An authoritative human document taken from the pages of American history and made to live on the screen was the objective, but the whole must be a moving picture entertainment. The completed film shows how it was done, how every obstacle was overcome and explains why the people of both the North and the South have found in the picture a new birth of inspiration and a new urge toward patriotism and brotherhood and have wel- comed it as a great influence toward finally binding up the wounds of war. An instance of the thoroughness of our research is indicated by the finding in Delphos, a little town way out in western Kansas, of a lady who in childhood was Grace Bedell, of Westfield, New York. It was a letter written by their little girl at the age of eleven to President-elect Lincoln which induced him to grow a beard. We also found at Long Beach, California, a Mr. Paris Henderson at whose childhood home in Illinois Abraham Lincoln used to stop frequently as he rode FOREWORD ix the circuit in the old eighth Judicial District practicing law in the county seat towns. Mr. Henderson was able to tell a story about the first and only time Lin- coln ever taught a Sunday School class. In Los Angeles, we found Mrs. Wyncoop, who, as Helen Truman, was a member of the cast of "Our American Cousin" playing at Ford's Theater the night of President Lincoln's assassination. From her we secured a first-hand description of that terrible tragedy. In Hollywood, we found Senator Cornelius Cole, who recently died at the age of 102 years, a lifelong friend of Lincoln and his daily associate during Lin- coln's life in Washington. In a remarkable interview Senator Cole gave unpublished details of Lincoln's life and in addition he advised us on all disputed historical points, thus enabling us to produce in pictures an absolutely authentic historical document. Senator Cole also rode on the train with President Lincoln from Washington to Gettysburg and sat on the platform when Lincoln delivered the Gettysburg Address. I have said that the picture "Abraham Lincoln" constitutes a deliberate attempt to prove that history makes good show stuff for the films and I am en- couraged to add that real life as it has been lived is quite as entertaining as fiction and that even the life of an immortal with its loves and sufferings, its pov- erty and its greatness, its joys and its tragedies, and even its intimate and sacred moments may be handled with so delicate a touch as to invest every scene and even the entire subject with an enchantment that only truth has the magic to impart. Of course, fiction has x FOREWORD never yet produced a Lincoln, or ever will, so our present debt is to history and to the wonderful creation of science called the cinema, which enables us to sit at ease amid pleasant and appropriate surroundings and in one short evening have unfolded before our en- chanted vision the entire life and events of one of the world's greatest figures so that we may understand a subject that would require years of individual research to achieve. Professor Hitchens of Ansco Film Laboratory is working on a film of this picture that is expected and hoped to last forever. With the approbation of the authorities it is to be placed in the Smithsonian Insti- tute at Washington, D. C, and to be opened on the three hundredth anniversary of Lincoln's birth. A. L. Rockett. New York City. CONTENTS Part I: CHAPTER I II III IV V VI VII His Childhood A Blizzard Lincoln's "Folks" ..... Log Cabin Days ..... Emigrating Hard Times A Stepmother 36 School Days 40 PAGE 3 8 14 20 26 Part II: Young Manhood VIII Jack-of-All-Trades . . IX The Railsplitter . X The Trip to New Orleans XI The Country Storekeeper . XII Legislature and War XIII Studying Law XIV Ann Rutledge . 5i 61 66 76 86 95 109 Part III: Family Life and Politics XV Campaigning 129 XVI A. Lincoln, Attorney-at-Law . . .135 XVII Mary Todd 143 XVIII Family Life 160 XIX Politics and Congress . . . .170 XX The "Home Folks" 182 xi xii CONTENTS Part IV: The "Slavery Question" CHAPTER PAGE XXI Lincoln Opens Fire on Slavery . .189 XXII The Great Lincoln-Douglas Debates . 207 XXIII Nominated for Presidency . . . 227 XXIV Election Day 242 XXV War Clouds . . . . ., 248 Part V: Civil War XXVI Lincoln Goes to Washington . . 255 XXVII War! 270 XXVIII Emancipation ....... 289 XXIX Lincoln and His Generals . .; . 299 Part VI: War Times XXX The War Grinds On .... 309 XXXI Two Boys in the White House . . 326 XXXII The Sleeping Sentinel and Others .- 338 XXXIII Richmond Falls ...... 355 XXXIV The Surrender ...... 361 Part VII: The Curtain Falls XXXV Lincoln's Last Day . XXXVI The Assassination XXXVII The Capture of Booth XXXVIII Extent of the Plot . XXXIX Back to Springfield 38i 390 401 409 417 PART I His Childhood "The Lord must love the Common People That's why he made so many of them." THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN CHAPTER I A BLIZZARD A furious blizzard went roaring through dense Ken- tucky forests in the bitter February of the year 1809. The mad gale drove stinging snow into high drifts, and lashed the bare and ice-bound trees with such vehe- mence that they moaned and crashed and tossed in agony, while many a giant oak went thundering to the ground. The peril of that wind-torn wilderness, its racing wind, cutting sleet and trackless drifts forbade any living creature to venture abroad. Yet there now ap- peared dimly through veils of flying snow the bent and stumbling figure of a man. The violence of the wild storm's onslaught blinded him and beat him down, time and again, upon his knees in waist-deep drifts; the whirling snow obliterated every landmark that might guide him, yet valiantly he struggled on. Here was a lone frontiersman caught away from home when the storm broke with the sudden fury that swept him from his trail to flounder blindly, battling with the fiercest snowstorm Kentucky had ever known. 4 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN Buffeted by the sweeping gale, he labored on for hours until, numb at last, he began to feel that false warmth and overwhelming sleepiness that lures lost travelers to cease struggling through snow and to sink down to sleep and death. Collapse had nearly claimed him when the frontiers- man tripped and pitched over an icy bank, plunging headlong into a ravine below. This jar roused him. He staggered to his feet and peered about. There at his feet, blown bare of snow by eddying winds, lay a familiar logged-in spring among the rocks. With joy he recognized this as the spring upon the Lincoln farm. With this landmark to guide him he sheltered his eyes with both hands and, squinting through the storm, made out a cabin nearby, half buried in the drifts. Rallying his waning strength, he fought his way, head down, to the snow-jammed door and pounded. No answer greeted him. With savage, icy blows the tempest shook the lonely cabin fiercely and threatened at any moment to demolish its huge out- side chimney that rocked and groaned in the gale. No smoke curled up this chimney, which, built like some crude buzzard's nest of sticks daubed together, was ill constructed to withstand such wind. No flicker of light gleamed from the chinked log walls to encourage the lost traveler. He thrust his great bulk desperately against the sagging door and burst it open. Within, the cabin was dark, silent and so cold that at first the wanderer thought it deserted. Then a thin wail from one corner assured him of a baby's presence and he groped his way to the bedside. Stooping over the woman who lay upon it, he said : A BLIZZARD 5 "Mrs. Lincoln, this is your neighbor, Isom Enlow. I was lost in the storm and I'm mighty glad to find your place." Mrs. Lincoln's answer was only a weak whisper. "Please help, I am very ill and I am afraid my baby is dead." The good man tossed aside his snow-encrusted coon- skin cap, drew off his frozen fur gloves, then gently turned down the deerskins that formed the bedclothes. The tiny form of a little two-year-old girl stirred at his touch. She looked up and blinked at him and saw the broad snow-powdered shoulders of a stocky middle- aged man. In spite of the fearsome aspect of his shaggy eyebrows, whitened and frozen, and his great beard matted with fine icicles, she recognized the kindli- ness in his face, stopped whimpering and smiled. "Your little gal is all right," he said heartily. "But I have a baby here too, a boy, born this morning." Horrified at this, Enlow's fingers sought out the baby only to find it so cold that he realized if a fire could save it, a blaze must be kindled within the next few minutes. Seizing an ax he sprang out into the storm to cut wood and speedily had logs roaring on the hearth that had been cold before with snow that had blown down the wide-mouthed chimney and sifted out upon the floor. As he hurriedly piled logs and poked them to brighter flame he asked, "Mrs. Lincoln, is your husband out in this storm?" "Yes," she answered feebly. "Tom went to the settlement for supplies several days ago. I suppose he is delayed by this fearful blizzard. I have kept Sarah 6 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN in bed with me for warmth, and for two days now neither of us has had a mouthful to eat." Enlow turned at once to prepare food but found not a crumb in the house. Realizing that something must be fed the starving family at once, Enlow took the horn of wild turkey grease that he carried for use on his rifle, and melting this grease in water heated on the hearth he concocted a kind of bitter broth for Mrs. Lincoln and Sarah. Like every other country man, Enlow was accus- tomed to handling little new-born animals and he man- aged very well now with a new-born baby. Finally, rolling it deftly in a bundle and holding it to the blaze, he brought heat into the half-frozen little body, and sustained its life by dipping a string in the hot grease and holding this for its stiff little lips to suck. Hours later when Enlow was preparing to brave the storm once more to get supplies and help, neighbor Gallaher and his wife, knowing a Lincoln baby was expected, arrived with plenty of food, herbs, bedcloth- ing, medicine and comforts for the mother and infant. By the time Thomas Lincoln reached home, worn by anxiety and his struggle with the storm, he found the one room of the cabin bright and warm with firelight and savory with food cooking in the fireplace under Mrs. Gallaher's capable hands, while mother and babies had been made snug by the good neighbors who had come in the very nick of time. Ushered heroically into life in the teeth of a storm, the baby boy lay blinking in the firelight, and no one in that cabin room dreamed of the life of storm and heroism yet before him. "He's a homely little cuss!" remarked his father. A BLIZZARD 7 "He owes his life to Mr. Enlow," declared the mother gratefully. "Let us name him Abraham after Mr. Enlow's son who died." And thus on February 12th was born and named Abraham Lincoln, whose life, nearly snuffed out be- fore it well began, was spared his country by a very narrow margin. Austen Gallaher himself, son of the kindly neigh- bors, and playmate of Abraham's from his babyhood until the day the Lincolns left Kentucky, years after- ward told and retold this, the true story of the birth of Abraham Lincoln, to Mr. Gore, the Hodgenville, Ken- tucky, newspaper man, who first put it into print. It was near this same Hodgenville, in Hardin Co., on the Big South Fork of Nolen Creek that the cabin stood where Abraham Lincoln was born. CHAPTER II Lincoln's "folks" It happened that though named for Enlow's son, the baby was the fifth Abraham in the Lincoln family. Though born in the humblest hut and in bitter poverty, Abraham Lincoln came of sound English stock, of the seventh generation in America, and his forefathers had proved themselves men of worth. The father of the first Lincoln to come to America was Edward Lincoln, gentleman, of Norfolk, England, a county which adjoins Lincolnshire, whence perhaps the family originally derived its name. It was his son Samuel who was first of the name to sail adventurously for the new country. The pioneer spirit, which prompted Samuel to cross the seas in 1637 to found a new home in a new land, urged on other Lincolns through generations to push further and further west across new country until 172 years after- ward young Abraham was born to spend his youth at the very outposts of the frontier. Samuel Lincoln first settled in Salem and later moved to Hingham, Massachusetts, a far cry in those days from the wilds of Kentucky and Illinois. Other Lin- colns settled in Bucks County, Pa. A Josiah Lincoln fought in the Revolution, and after this war we find Abraham Lincoln, grandfather of the President, settled and well-to-do in Rockingham County, Virginia. This Abraham Lincoln through his friendship with Daniel 8 LINCOLN'S "FOLKS" 9 Boone, became interested in that opening up of the Kentucky wilds which followed the Revolution. In 1780 he left his comfortable farm in Virginia and set forth to face all the discomforts of Kentucky's "dark and bloody ground." Dark and bloody indeed it proved itself to be. To trace the western wanderings of the Lincoln family on a map carries a fascination when realizing that in the days long before any Lincoln Highway, these counties, now so thickly speckled on the map with little railroad stations, were then only untouched wilderness, with here and there a lonely settlement or stout fort, and it took keen woodsmanship to follow half-blazed trails to any very distant destination. With map before us we can see grandfather Abraham Lin- coln leaving Rockingham County, which lies toward the northern end of the Blue Ridge on its western slope. Across Virginia he drove and on across Ken- tucky. Westward he persevered through this wild state, and on beyond "Bloody Breathitt" of mountain feud fame. He did not stop until he reached the very western border of Kentucky on the Ohio River, a stupendous journey in a covered wagon. He settled in Jefferson County, on Government land, and labori- ously cleared a little farm in the heart of the forest. Then one morning in 1785 when setting out to work at the edge of his clearing, accompanied by his three sons, Mordecai, Josiah and Thomas, an Indian, hiding in the woods, shot and killed him. Mordecai, the eldest son, ran back to the house for a gun, Josiah raced to the nearby Fort Hughes for aid, and both left five-year-old Thomas behind by the dead 10 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN body of his father. The Indian now crept out of the thicket and advanced toward Thomas. Though the savage was frightful with war paint daubed on his face and naked chest, this very paint proved his undoing, for Mordecai, seizing a rifle, had sighted through a loophole of the cabin, and aiming at a white ornament on the Indian's breast, shot and killed him. Thus saved, little Thomas fled to the house, and as other Indians' heads now kept appearing through the bushes, Mordecai continued firing until Josiah returned with assistance from the Fort. As this was the Thomas Lincoln who became father of the President, it is interesting to see how he fared after the death of his father in the wilderness. Thomas was the son of Abraham's second wife, and of all the Biblical names in the Lincoln family hers — Bathsheba — was perhaps the most picturesque. Bath- sheba Herring Lincoln was far too frail to survive the rigors of frontier life and soon died, leaving her little boy to the cruel chances of a pioneer existence in the Indian country. Mordecai and Josiah, who had run off and left small Thomas by his father's corpse, persisted in their neg- lect of the boy. As sons of their father's first wife, they took heartless advantage of the old English law of the rights of the eldest, then in force in Kentucky, and so ousted Thomas from any inheritance claim to his father's estate, which was substantial. In all the good old stories misfortune finally overtakes the wicked elder brothers, while the abused younger brother comes into such prosperity and fame that he may well afford to be magnanimous. But the story of Thomas LINCOLN'S "FOLKS" 11 Lincoln is not that of a boy Cinderella nor of Joseph and his brethren. His elder brothers were always pros- perous and he was always poor. Mordecai became quite influential, serving at one time as sheriff of Washington County, Kentucky, and later as member of that state's legislature. He was a genial soul, fun- loving and witty. Abraham Lincoln used to say, "Uncle Mord walked off with all the brains of the family." Josiah settled in Harrison County, Indiana, and lived in comfortable circumstances as a well- to-do farmer until a ripe old age. Hardship dogged Thomas's footsteps all his days, but perhaps after all he achieved greater heights than either of his brothers in that he became father of the immortal President. It is sometimes supposed that Thomas Lincoln was nothing but a shiftless, wandering ne'er-do-well, and a word in his defense is only just. Thomas was born back in Rockingham County, Vir- ginia, on January 20th, 1780, in the very year when his father, presumably as early in the spring as roads became at all passable, set out for Kentucky. Only a few months old, therefore, and not yet weaned, Thomas stood the rough trip west by wagon. Or- phaned at five years, he was passed about, leading a miserable life after his mother died. With no one to care for him he grew up to lead a lonely, wandering existence, making his way by odd jobs at farming and carpentering until, at the age of twenty-five, he had saved up enough money to buy that blizzard-stricken farm on Nolen Creek. It was not a very good farm but it was the best his small means afforded. He is said to have been an easy-going man, slow to anger 12 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN but formidable when aroused. He was tall and power- ful, a hard worker and like his famous son, a great wrestler. Perhaps the fact that he kept moving from one farm to another all his life was not wholly due to his failure to make good in one spot. Doubtless he, too, felt the restlessness of that pioneer spirit which marked his family, and possibly under more favorable circumstances he might have achieved success if not actual fame for himself. At any rate he showed sound judgment in his choice of a wife and fortune favored him here. Nancy Hanks, who married Thomas Lincoln on June 12, 1806, was a woman of marked charm and spirit. At the time of her marriage she was in her twenty-third year, tall, slender, dark, and with a melan- choly expression which later often marked her son's features. Like him, she had an undercurrent of sad- ness beneath an exterior of steadfast cheerfulness, a sadness gained no doubt from bitter tastes of life. Nancy Hanks was characterized by a natural refine- ment, a calm disposition and a braveness of spirit that met blizzards, births, poverty and pioneering un- daunted. Her good judgment and fine memory served invaluably in guiding her son on toward things better than cabin life presented. Thomas and Nancy were married at the home of her aunt, Lucy Shipley Berry, wife of Richard Berry, her guardian. The ceremony was performed by Jesse Head, a Methodist minister, who, by the way, was also a carpenter and cabinet maker, for ministers were not paid enough in those days to afford them a living. Nancy's guardian set forth a fine wedding supper and LINCOLN'S "FOLKS" 13 we are told that "there was bear meat, venison, wild turkey, ducks' eggs, both wild and tame, and maple sugar swung on a string to bite off for coffee or whiskey; there was syrup of peach and honey in great gourds, barbecued sheep and a race for the whiskey bottle." The record of that wedding party remains in this list of things to eat. Records of weddings to-day em- phasize chiefly the clothes the bride wore. Perhaps some day it will be the custom to list the ideals for marriage held by the bride and groom and the qualities of character each offer toward that end. Nancy's people gave the young couple a substantial send-off in the hearty backwoods way. The tables for the wedding feast were made of puncheons cut from solid logs and next day these were laid as the floor of the new cabin. The new cabin where Thomas and Nancy began their life together was in the small hamlet of Elizabethtown, Kentucky, which Thomas thought would prove pleas- anter for Nancy than his lonely farm fourteen miles away. He hoped, too, to earn a better living at car- penter work than he might at farming. Their first child, Nancy (afterwards called Sarah to avoid con- fusion), was born here less than a year after their mar- riage. Before she was two years old Thomas realized that he was carrying on a losing struggle to make a living in Elizabethtown where there was scant money to hire carpenters where every man must be his own, so he gave it up and moved his family to his Nolen Creek farm just in time for Abraham to be born in the new home. What kind of a home it was we shall soon see. CHAPTER III LOG CABIN DAYS The Nolen Creek place was known by the pleasing name of "Rock Spring Farm" because of its one at- tractive feature, a fine spring of water welling out of rocks and shaded by a pleasant grove, — the very spring upon which Isom Enlow so fortunately tumbled on that eventful stormy night. Except for the spring, how- ever, the place was miserable for farming. The land was only partly cleared and the soil was so thin and rocky that you may guess at once that Thomas Lincoln was not going to succeed upon it. Nevertheless, for four years he tried to. During this time Abraham grew up to run about and his cousin, Dennis Hanks, tells us that he was a good little boy, "as solemn as a papoose, but interested in everything/' He grew fast and long-legged and Dennis said "he never gave his mother any trouble except to keep him in clothes." The small Abraham was out playing barefoot in the woods "about as soon as he was weaned" and by the time he was four he was fishing in the creek, setting traps for hares and muskrats, following bees to find the honey in bee trees and trotting with his father and cousin after the dogs in coon hunts. The farm might have been a failure, and the cabin a discouragement to Nancy's home- making efforts, but all the same Rock Spring must 14 LOG CABIN DAYS 15 have been a pleasant place for a little boy in sum- mer. We have the word of Tom's personal friend, the old country doctor, that this cabin home was not wholly uncomfortable. The doctor declared, "All this talk of the Lincolns living half sheltered in a little shanty is pure foolishness. They kept a cow and had plenty of milk and butter and they had a good feather bed, for I have slept in it myself. Tom Lincoln was a man and always did the best he could for his family/' In 1813 when Abraham was four years old, his father gave up the struggle on Nolen Creek and moved fifteen miles away to what he hoped would prove a better farm on Knob Creek. And now came Abra- ham's opportunity to go to school. In those days school in the wilderness was a hit-or- miss matter of chance, depending on whether there happened to be some educated man thereabouts who was not only willing to teach a term or two until some- thing better showed up, but who had an arm strong enough to discipline the bigger boys, and it depended also on whether some neighbor was able to board the schoolmaster while he taught. Two men proved available at Knob Creek at this time, first Zachariah Riney, a Catholic, and later Caleb Hazel. Little is known of either man, but that Abra- ham went to school to them we do know, through Austen Gallaher, the same Austen whose parents brought comfort to Mrs. Lincoln on the night of the blizzard. Austen was a schoolmate of Abraham's and it was he who told that little Lincoln was unusually bright in school and that he made quick headway in his 16 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN studies. He says that Abraham "learned faster than any boy in school and though so little studied very hard. He would get spicewood bushes and hack them up and burn two or three together so that he could have light to study by at night.'* Probably Mother Lincoln had something to do with the spicewood firelight by which her little boy read. Certainly she took special pains to teach him and Sarah. At her knee they learned Bible stories and fairy tales by heart. With her they read Robinson Crusoe, "jEsop's Fables, Pilgrim's Progress and other sucH books that were familiar enough at firesides in older states, but rare at that time in Kentucky forest cabins. These stories formed the chief treat and diversion for the children in their shut-in backwoods life and they devoured every volume with an eagerness they might not have shown, had books been mere commonplace possessions. Besides the "A B C schools" in the woods, the only other medium of information in those days was "preaching." When a traveling parson came around, every one from the country round loaded lunch baskets into wagons and drove to listen to him and to enjoy the society of others gathered there. "Preaching" was an event. One of these preachers, the Baptist parson, David Elkin, was among those who occasionally shared over- night hospitality in the Lincoln cabin when he made his ministerial rounds. We may imagine this kindly man, his baggy clothes wrinkled and worn by horse- back riding, resting by the Lincoln fireside in the eve- ning after preaching, while the small Abraham sat LOG CABIN DAYS 17 quietly on the floor fascinated by his talk. This man was especially remembered by the impressionable boy when some years later there was sad need to call upon a parson. » It was from these itinerant preachers that Abraham gained his first knowledge of public speaking. Child- like, he loved to imitate them, and one of his favorite games was to gather his playmates together, and stand- ing up before them on some stump, delight his audience with his lusty preaching, shouting and thumping. This enjoyment in speaking remained and served him well in years to come. Few intimate details are known of these early boy- hood days of Lincoln's life. Isolated for the most part on his father's forest farm, he was left much to soli- tude and his own thoughts and though these days surely made a permanent impression upon his merry and melancholy temperament, he remembered little of them to tell about later on. There are left now only the faintest glimpses into Lincoln's boyhood during these early years. Once, when asked what he remembered of the War of 1812, he answered, "Nothing but this. I had been fishing and had caught a little fish which I was taking home. I met a soldier on the road. Having been told at home that we must always be good to the soldiers, I gave him my fish." In the lean, angular little backwoods boy, with serious face, great shock of black hair and gawky homespun clothes, the soldier could not recognize a future commander-in-chief of the army and navy, but in his "being good to the soldier" we can recognize a generous child and a patriotic home. On another pc- 18 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN casion we can picture him as a little boy of strength and spunk, when, at six years old and tall for his age, he had his first fight. The neighborhood boys used to be sent to the old water mill with corn to be ground. While waiting their turn they passed their time with fighting and frolics. In these Abraham did not join and it is said that he was "the shyest, most reticent, homeliest and worst dressed of any in the crowd.' , Some big boys bullied him one day, and thereupon Abraham, to their huge surprise, flew upon them and thrashed three boys in succession, and then with his back to a tree breathlessly defied all comers, yelling at them his taunts of cowardice. Old enough to fight, he was old enough to work, and about this time he was to be seen trudging through the fields after his father, carrying water, fetching tools, picking berries, pulling weeds and planting seeds. The farm lay in a valley, surrounded by high hills cut by such deep gorges that a heavy rain in the hills would gush down the gorges and flood the unlucky farm. The very last work that Abraham did on the Knob Creek farm was to plant pumpkin seeds one Saturday after- noon, while others sowed corn. On Sunday morning a heavy rain fell high in the hills, and although not a drop sprinkled the valley, the water from the hills rushed down through the gorges and washed all the corn and pumpkin seeds completely out of the ground. Thoroughly disheartened on Knob Creek, Thomas Lin- coln again prepared to move on. The War of 1812, though little remembered by Abra- ham, had brought hard times throughout the country. As a relief measure the Government offered its wild LOG CABIN DAYS 19 lands north of the Ohio to settlers on an easy credit system. In Kentucky there were serious troubles about land titles and the slave system in this state pressed hard on those who labored. Slavery was firmly estab- lished there and the small farmer "had far less chance of rising than of lapsing into the scorned class of 'poor whites.' " Thomas Lincoln was too spirited to endure such con- ditions. He abhorred slavery, chose to live in a free state and accordingly set out to settle in Indiana. CHAPTER IV EMIGRATING When Fall came on in 1816, and what crops sur- vived were harvested, Thomas Lincoln started out alone to find a place to live in Indiana. He had always liked water, and in the course of his various occupations had at one time been a flatboatman and made two trips to New Orleans with an Isaac Bush. This Isaac Bush, by the way, was a relative of a lifelong friend of Tom's back in Elizabethtown, — Sally Bush, of whom we shall hear much later on. With his fondness for water, it was natural that when Tom Lincoln decided to emigrate from Knob Creek he should turn to the watercourses at his door for transportation, in preference to rough wild trails half-blazed through Indian haunted woods. The adventure of moving was heightened for Abra- ham by the excitement of building a boat. Voyaging, even on inland streams, has always thrilled boyish imaginations and no doubt Abraham was eager for the trip and full of dreams of a new life, as day after day he hung about his father's boatbuilding on the Creek bank. Here Tom Lincoln felled, hacked, split and sawed the trees that went into the making of that none- too-seaworthy craft. This crude boat was at last tri- umphantly launched on Rolling Fork at the mouth of Knob Creek, about half a mile from the cabin. 20 EMIGRATING 21 Thomas loaded it with tools and most of their per- sonal property, trading off the rest of his belongings for four hundred gallons of whiskey which he added to his cargo. Whiskey was a currency of sure exchange in trade and "swapping" wherever he might go. With this aboard his treacherous boat, Thomas Lincoln put out to stream alone, floated with the current down into Salt River and reached the Ohio River safely. But here the roughness of the larger river proved too much for the cranky craft. It capsized and the cargo sank to the bottom. Tom only succeeded in fishing up a few tools and "most of the whiskey," — his household pos- sessions were lost in the river mud, — but he righted the boat and floated without further mishap down the river to Thompson's Ferry, two and a half miles west of Troy in Perry Co., Indiana. Here he sold the boat, and leaving what was left of his cargo with a settler named Posey, he struck off on foot through the wilderness to choose a home site. To pick a good location in that vast uncleared ex- panse was no easy task for one man alone and un- charted. He tramped for days on the outlook for good water supply, steering clear of thin soil like that so un- fruitful at Rock Spring, and suspicious of hills lest they work such disaster on crops as Knob Creek suffered. He hoped, too, to locate near some settlement con- venient for supplies. At last he came upon a place he thought would do. A great greenwood, clear of under- brush, spread out before him, with rich level sward stretching through dense groves of huge trees of origi- nal growth — prolific in oak, beech, walnut and sugar maples. Occasionally he came upon a little space of 22 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN flat clear prairie set down amid that wide stretch of forest. One of these he chose, a place that lay sixteen miles from the river, between the Big and Little Pigeon Creeks, only half a mile from the village of Gentry- ville. These woods were rich in game, and another little prairie not far off was well known by hunters as a famous deer lick. Surely this land was promising. Satisfied with his choice, Thomas Lincoln walked all the way back to Kentucky to bring his wife and children. The high hopes of her husband and excitement of the children at the prospect of moving were not wholly shared by Nancy Lincoln who was filled with sadness at bidding good-by to such good neighbors as the Gallahers and Enlows. Abraham, too, was sobered at the actual parting with his playmate, Austen, and both boys exchanged keepsakes, vowing to remember one another always. Those Knob Creek days were to fade from Abraham's memory, but they left their lasting mark upon his temperament. One scene he never for- got. The last thing he did before leaving Knob Creek was to go with his mother and sister for a farewell visit to the wee grave of their baby brother, Thomas, who, born in 1813, lived so short a time that the chil- dren scarcely remembered him at all. The mother's heart sank at leaving behind her this tiny grave, im- perfectly marked by a few rough stones, and sure to be obliterated soon by woodland undergrowth. Over this little mound Nancy broke into such a torrent of grief that the distressing scene was etched forever on lier son's memory. After this the family turned their backs on old Ken- EMIGRATING 28 tucky and set their faces hopefully toward new forest trails. Packing up to move was a slight matter since their remaining household goods were scant. Tom Lincoln had two horses but no wagon and the load had to be condensed to fit these animals' backs. Roped on the pack horses were clothing, bedding, corn meal and only such cooking utensils as were bare necessities : "one oven and lid, one skillet and lid, and some tin-ware." They camped out along the way, and their meals, cooked over open fires, consisted of corn pone, roasted in the ashes ; and squirrels, rabbits or quail shot down by Tom's gun. The horses had to find their own fodder by grazing. Mrs. Lincoln and Sarah eased their journey by riding on the pack horses, but sturdy Abraham for the most part stumped manfully on foot beside his father. As the little cavalcade pushed on through the woods it presented a graphic subject for a painting of pioneer life. Tom Lincoln led the way, gun and ax slung across his shoulders, determination in his eye, and his powerful frame inevitably slouching with the weari- ness of this, his second trip on foot over the long rough miles. He led one pack horse with his wife and daugh- ter perched upon its back. Little Sarah, clasping her mother's waist, leaned wearily against Nancy's back, while Nancy, herself, erect and brave, kept up their spirits with her cheer. Cheerful she might steadily re- main, but across her dark, angular features lay the shadow of sadness and she gazed ahead with unspoken foreboding. Behind trudged Abraham with the other thin horse, a lean, dark boy, tall and long-legged for 24 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN his age, the very figure of a small woodsman in Daniel Boone coonskin cap, buckskin breeches and Indian moccasins. When the emigrants finally reached Thompson's Ferry they left the Kentucky shore and crossed at last into Indiana. With map before us we may see and better appreciate the way they came. There lies Hardin County on the western border of Kentucky, upon the Ohio River. The map shows, if not Knob Creek, at least Elizabethtown, and Hodgenville, in the middle of the county. Across the river and south in Perry County, Indiana, Troy still stands upon the map and it was sixteen miles from here that Tom's location lay. As the crow flies, this was perhaps a hundred miles from Knob Creek and we can be sure that Tom Lincoln could not take that "shortest distance between two points" but was forced to twist and turn and add many a mile to the journey in finding passable trails. He had walked from Perry County to Knob Creek once, and now in walking must have been rounding out some two hundred foot-weary miles. At Posey's Tom hired a wagon and loaded into it his packs as well as the whiskey and other property which he had stored there. The family then climbed in and started on toward the place that was to become famous as "The Lincoln Farm." A few miles the wagon thumped over a path blazed through the woods by some earlier settler. Then this path ended and the forest confronted them, impassable for a two-horse wagon. The family had to get out and camp while Tom laboriously cut a passage with his ax. One slow mile at a time the little caravan advanced as Tom cleared a way before it. Days passed EMIGRATING 25 before they had traversed the sixteen miles to Pigeon Creek. The new home site was beautiful and the soil rich. We are told that "the selection was wise in every respect but one : there was no water near except what collected in holes in the ground and that had to be strained before it would do even for washing." It was Abraham's and Sarah's daily task to lug water for drinking and cooking from a spring a mile away. Thomas Lincoln is said to have "riddled his land like a honeycomb" in search of pure water, and "was sorely tempted to employ a Yankee who came around with a divining rod declaring that for the small sum of five dollars in cash he would make his rod point to a cool, flowing stream beneath the surface." Tom Lincoln set about building a temporary shelter at once. He cut, not logs, but poles, and set up a "half-faced camp," that is, a hut enclosed on three sides and open on the fourth with nothing but a dirt floor, called a "camp" to distinguish it from a "cabin." This camp was only fourteen feet square and proved tight quarters for a family of four, yet for a whole year this was their only home. With the building of this camp, Abraham's baby- hood ended. An ax was put into his seven-year-old hands, and he was set to work to help in cutting poles for the hut and in chopping out a clearing for corn. From now on he was to wield an ax until he won fame as the "rail splitter." CHAPTER V HARD TIMES Tom Lincoln was certainly not a "good provider." Few families, even in that day and wilderness, had to endure such wretched makeshifts as his family faced, living huddled in the primitive hut throughout the bitter winter. Many a cattle shed was snugger than this pole shelter. For all we know to the contrary, Thomas Lincoln may have been ill that fall and actually unable to make better provision or construct a weather-tight dwelling at once. He had much to do, single handed, to secure bare necessities, and Abraham's childish arms could be of small aid in felling trees large enough to build a stout house. Whatever the reason, Tom's man- agement then and later failed to supply adequate shelter and comforts. The family survived the winter through such hard- ships as we can only guess at, and the summer was devoted to cultivating crops and also to cutting and seasoning fresh lumber for a cabin. Not until after harvest that fall, in the face of the bleak approach of a second winter, did Tom begin to build. He then put up a "rough, rough log house' ' close by the old camp. This was another one-room cabin with an outside chimney and only bare earth for a floor. A door and window were cut in the round bark-covered logs but the window was not covered with the custo- 26 HARD TIMES 27 mary oiled paper to let in light, and not even the usual deerskin hung before the door, to ward off wind, rain and snow. As it had been impossible to bring any furniture along by pack horse, and what little Tom had brought by boat now lay on the river bottom, Tom and Nancy had to turn their hands to making chairs and tables as best they could. These were heavy and clumsy, made of rough slabs of wood with holes bored into them into which were fitted legs which were uneven enough to teeter. The bedstead was made of two poles supported by foot posts with the other ends stuck into auger holes bored in the log wall. A sack of corn shucks served as mattress, and the coverlids were skins. Abraham's bed was a pallet of dry leaves in the draughty loft above, which he reached, not by a ladder, but by climb- ing up wooden pegs in the wall. Here the low slant roof made it perilous to stand suddenly erect, and though there was no loft window, the ill-chinked walls let in more fresh air than was often comfortable. Like all log cabins this one was often smoky from the crude chimney and unpleasant with the vermin that infests fresh lumber. There was no closet or cupboard and the family's spare clothes dangled on the walls from pegs. Cooking was done by spit, pot and crane in the open fireplace, and most of the time woods and field yielded enough to eat. Tom brought down with his gun some of the plentiful deer, often wild ducks and turkeys, quail and pheasants and sometimes a bear. Sarah and Abraham ranged abroad picking all sorts of wild fruits and berries which were dried for winter, 28 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN while meat was smoked. There was always cornbread, but wheat flour was a luxury due to difficulties in thrashing and milling. They raised no pigs nor fowl, and potatoes seem to have been the only vegetable they grew. That sometimes potatoes were the only thing on the family table is seen in Abraham's famous remark to his father who had once said grace over a single plate of ash-roasted potatoes, — "potatoes are mighty poor blessings." Evidence appears that a cow had been added to their possessions and that milk was in use. The cow may have belonged to Nancy's aunt and uncle, Thomas and Betsy Sparrow, who arrived from Kentucky soon after the Lincolns had settled in their new cabin in the fall of 1817, and moved into the deserted camp. They brought with them a congenial neighborliness and did much by the addition of their company to brighten life for a time on the lonely Lincoln farm. Nancy's aunt Lucy had given her the wedding party, but Betsy Sparrow was the aunt who had taken the orphaned Nancy Hanks and brought her up. This good-hearted soul had also raised her nephew, Dennis Hanks, now seventeen years old, and she brought him along with her to Pigeon Creek. Abraham gladly welcomed his companion of the old coon hunt days on Knob Creek and the two boys became inseparable companions now. It was Dennis Hanks himself who gave the clearest pic- ture of these days. He said "everybody was poor in those days, but the Lincolns were poorer than any- body." Most of the time he and Abraham ran bare- foot, and he gives a side light on their primitive clothes in his scorn for moccasins, which moccasins HARD TIMES 29 gave no protection against the snow and when wet felt "like a clammy wet buckskin glove. ,, "Birch bark with hickory bark soles strapped over yarn socks beat buck- skin all holler for snow," he declared, and added, "Abe V me got pretty handy contriving things that way." Tom Lincoln, according to Dennis, was a strong and sober man. "He wasn't lazy or afraid of anything." He was popular and he "could lick a bully if he had to," but "he just couldn't get ahead somehow." Chop- ping trees, grubbing roots, and splitting rails left Tom no spare time. It was all he could do, Dennis testified, to get his family enough to eat and to cover them. Nancy was "terrible ashamed of the way they lived," according to Dennis, but she knew Tom was doing his best and she "wasn't the pestering kind." She was "pretty as a picture and smart as you'd find them any- where. She could read and write," he boasted. Tom Lincoln loved Nancy and "was as good to her as he knew how." Dennis vouches for Tom that he "didn't swear, or drink, or play cards, or fight," even in those hard drinking and fighting days. So, though the out- side shell of that Pigeon Creek cabin was rough, it was this family spirit within that made it the home that bred Abraham Lincoln. With the kind of father who would faithfully ask a blessing even over a single dish of potatoes, and with a 1 proud, intelligent mother, who withal, "was not the pestering kind," Abraham, despite wet moccasins, ax callouses on his small hands, and only a bed of leaves to rest his back upon at night, was not foregoing much of true value. Of his parents, his mother was clearly the stronger character, and to her imprint on him is due much that made him famous. 30 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN She it was who encouraged Abraham to keep at his studies even when Tom, impatient at sight of the strong boy bent over arithmetic or spelling book when there was so much hard outside work to do, belittled "book learning" with disgust. Sometimes school was held about a mile and a half away, near Gentryville, but this was irregular. Whenever a schoolmaster did hold forth there, and farm work permitted, Abraham at- tended this country school. A boy named Nathaniel Grigsby (whose brother Aaron, by the way, grew up to marry Abraham's sister) went to the same school in those days and tells about Abraham as follows : "He was always at school early, and attended to his studies. He was always at the head of his class and passed us rapidly in his studies. He lost no time at home and when he was not at work he was at his books. He kept to his studies on Sunday and carried his books with him to work so that he might read when he rested from labor." After Abraham learned to write he kept practicing his new art all over any flat surface that was handy. Dennis Hanks says, "After he learned to write he was scratching his name everywhere. Sometimes he would write it on the white sand down by the crick bank and leave it until the waves would blot it out. Sometimes he would write with a piece of charcoal or the point of a burnt stick on the fence or hearth. We got a little paper at the country town and I made ink out of black- berry briar wood, with a little copperas in it. It was black, but the copperas would eat the paper after a while. I made his first pen out of a turkey buzzard HARD TIMES 31 feather. We had no geese them days. His first read- ing book was 'Webster's Speller.' " His mother saw to it that Abraham kept on writing, reading, spelling and "ciphering/' all the more when there was no regular school to attend. Nancy Lincoln managed to instill in her son an undying determination not to let any difficulties over- come his love of learning. Abraham Lincoln's actual attendance in school hardly amounted to a total of twelve months in his whole life, but the habit, en- couraged by his mother, of everlastingly snatching a minute here and there to study, remained with him all his days. She imparted to him also an abiding Chris- tian faith that gave him the keynote to human hearts, guided him through life, and proved his balance wheel throughout the fearful stress and turmoil of Civil War. There is an old Jesuit saying, "If you give me a boy until he be seven years of age, I care not who has him thereafter," meaning that the influence of those first years will prove indelible. Abraham Lincoln had his mother's influence nine years. On October 5th, 18 18, she died. That fall there had been an epidemic throughout the Pigeon Creek region of a disease common on the frontier in those days and known to settlers as "milk- sickness." Its origin was obscure, but people supposed that it was caused by cows eating some poisonous herb at pasture that transmitted its venom to the milk. Victims were seized with high fever, violent trembling and intense pain and as no one knew how to treat the malady, the sufferer usually died in a very few days. 32 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN There were no doctors in the wilderness and knowledge of medicine was limited to country herb lore of un- certain efficacy. When people fell seriously sick in those days it was merely a question of chance survival. In late September of that year Thomas and Betsy Sparrow were stricken with this dread disease, and before Dennis could realize how sick they were both died within a few days of one another. Thomas Lin- coln cut trees and sawed them up to make rough, heavy coffins, and into these he laid the bodies. The graves he dug on a little knoll in the forest, and then he and Dennis carried the coffins there, stopping to rest often from the sad weight. The bodies were lowered into the graves with no ceremony but their own bowed heads and prayers. Nancy Lincoln could be of little help or comfort in these sad tasks for she had fallen sick and Tom in desperation recognized the same fatal malady. He knew no way to relieve her and could only sit and watch her failing steadily night and day before his hopeless eyes. Stricken with grief, he sat about miser- able and helpless. Abraham and Sarah, childlike, did not realize the seriousness of their mother's condition. They smoothed her bed clothes, stroked her hair, held the dripping gourd of cold spring water to her hot lips and doubtless assured one another that she "looked bet- ter now." The mother realized that she was leaving them and watched her children with dying eyes, wonder- ing how they would fare in life without her. At last she beckoned them to her bedside and patting Sarah's hand and stroking Abraham's black hair she bade them always be kind to one another, charging Abraham es- HARD TIMES 33 pecially to be good to his father and his sister. Then she exerted herself to whisper her hope that they would always live as she had taught them, loving their neigh- bors and worshiping God. Before Sarah and Abra- ham half realized how sick she was, their mother died, seven short days after her seizure. So Nancy Hanks Lincoln passed out of the life, though never from the memory, of her son, and this shadow on his heart was the first great grief in his life of many sorrows. A far different setting from the stately White House was this cabin home with its hard stamped earth floor, and rough clay-chinked walls hung with rifles and powder horns, its clumsy wooden stools and peg-legged benches, and its strings of peppers, dried seed corn, gourds and smoked meat hanging from the rafters. Here on a bed of corn shucks Nancy Lincoln lay dead, while tearful at the cabin door stood the quaint little backwoods figure of the boy whose fame was to keep his mother's name immortal by his own assertion : "All that I am or hope to be I owe to my sainted mother. ,, Through the window opening he could smell the fresh cut pine and hear the rasp of his father's saw at work upon her coffin as another epoch in his life was closed. Neighbors gathered to help bear the coffin to its grave on the little knoll beside those other two fresh mounds. It was a sorrowful time, for many beside Dennis had within the last few days buried their own dead. By the grave stood two school-boy friends of Abraham's whose own mother, a friend of Mrs. Lin- coln's, had died only a few days before. It must be hard for the Death Angel to take reluctant mothers from their children. Perhaps, though out of sight, 34 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN these mothers are never really very far from their chil- dren after all. The burying was finished when the earth had been heaped into the grave by neighborly hands. No minis- ter was there to pray or read the Scripture. Abra- ham's sensitive heart grieved so bitterly over his mother's burial without a funeral service that he made up his mind to have one as soon as he could. Remem- bering the friendly preacher, David Elkin of Knob Creek days, he took his turkey buzzard pen and com- posed the first letter he had ever written to ask this good man to come and preach over the grave of his mother. It was an appeal not to be resisted, and though this trip would take the parson over a hundred miles out of his way, he promised Abraham that he would come as soon as he chanced to be near the Indiana line. It was early the next spring that he came, when the forest was at its loveliest with springtime promise of new life. Word was sent through the region that the preacher was coming, and nearly 200 men, women, and children gathered from far and near to hear the funeral sermon. It was a bright and sunny Sabbath morning, and so the toil-worn farmers of that raw countryside were free to harness the plowing oxen to their rude carts, pack in their women-folk and a lunch for the long journey, and set out by corduroy roads and through forest trails to the scene of the funeral. There they took their places on felled trees and old stumps, the tragedy of the occasion making them silent and awe- struck. Soon the little procession came winding up the path HARD TIMES 35 from the Lincoln cabin. The preacher in his long black coat led the way. Then came Thomas Lincoln, fol- lowed by Abraham and his sister Sarah, the mother- less children. Dennis Hanks, whose foster-parents had died, and who had been taken in by the Lincolns, came last. The preacher opened his Bible at the top of the knoll, and with the country-folk, weeping, bareheaded, standing about him, he told of the virtuous life of service and love which Nancy Lincoln had lived, and of how patiently she had borne her sufferings. His prayer, the last words spoken over her grave, was a plea for the children from whose life the mother love and care had been taken so abruptly. It was beautiful and simple, and in the busy years that followed the scene must have come back to Abraham Lincoln again and again. He had fulfilled his duty, and his mother's Christian life was closed piously as she would have wished. It was Dennis Hanks, a member of the Lincoln family from this time on, who said that Abraham got his good sense and sound principles from both parents, "but his kindness, humor, love of humanity and hatred of slavery all came from his mother. I am free to say," Dennis adds, "that Abe was a 'mother's boy/ " CHAPTER VI A STEPMOTHER The motherless home was a forlorn place through- out the hard winter and summer that followed Nancy's death. There was too much back-breaking work for an eleven-year-old girl to do, but Sarah faithfully struggled with it for more than a year. To feed three work-weary and hungry "men folks" was a heavy task in itself with the material and crude cooking utensils on hand. Often Tom and Dennis coming home from the fields had to help with the meals which were too often poor, unskill fully cooked, unpalatable and hardly nourishing. The mother's tasks, too difficult for Sarah's hands, often went undone. Nancy at her loom had steadily woven cloth, then cut and stitched it to clothe them all, and Sarah, little old woman though she had become, could not keep up with this. Their garments, giving out, were clumsily patched and too few for complete comfort, cleanliness or warmth. The children, heavy hearted and neglected, became thin, shy, silent, melancholy and ragged little creatures. Too plainly they needed a mother's care. No one in the family was happy or even comfortable and the thought of life stretching on indefinitely like this was unendurable. In November, 1819, following the spring of the belated funeral service, Tom stirred himself to mend 36 A STEPMOTHER 37 matters. In doing so his thoughts turned toward a woman, back in Elizabethtown, Kentucky, whom he had known all his life. This was Sally Bush (now widow of the town jailer, Daniel Johnston), who had three well-grown children of her own. Leaving Abra- ham and Sarah under the care of Dennis, Thomas Lin- coln once more set off across the Ohio River and into Kentucky again. In Elizabethtown he looked up the whereabouts of the widow Johnston, sought her out and came straight to the point. "Sally," said Tom bluntly, "I am a lone man and you are a lone woman. I have knowed you from a girl and you have knowed me from a boy. I have come all the way from Indiana to ask if you'll marry me, right off, as I've no time to lose." "Tommy Lincoln," replied Sally, "I have no objec- tion to marrying you, but I can't do it right off, for I owe several little debts which must be paid first." "You give them to me," said Tom, and he paid them before the sun went down. The next morning, December second, they secured a license and were married, and not only did they pack up, — Tom's brother-in-law coming with a four-horse wagon to drive them to Indiana, — but, taking Sally's three children along they all set off for Pigeon Creek the self-same day ! There was no dallying about Sally Bush. Tom Lincoln had his weaknesses, but he showed wisdom and foresight when he chose a wife. With what hopes and fears and speculations must Abraham and Sarah, peeping out like little wild wood- land creatures, have watched the exciting approach of this well-loaded four-horse team! With what shy 38 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN delight must they have welcomed the companionship of their new brother and sisters! Though rated "a poor widow woman" in Elizabeth- town, Sally possessed household goods which seemed truly magnificent when installed in the wretched Lin- coln cabin. For one thing, she had a bureau which cost forty dollars, and this Tom considered so positively extravagant that he urged her to sell it, which she firmly refused to do. She brought other things along which furnished the poverty-stricken cabin for the first time in decent comfort. These were a table and a good set of. chairs (fine contrast to the homemade stools and benches), her knives and forks, a capacious clothes chest, kitchen things and beds with ample bed- ding. It was a memorable day for Abraham and Sarah when this wonderful collection of household goods arrived on Pigeon Creek. Sally Bush Lincoln was a robust, good-natured, capable soul and "a good manager.' ' Best of all she knew how to manage Tom himself. She had been in the cabin no time at all before she made him put down a floor and hang a door and windows, needs he had never gotten around to in the two years the cabin had been standing. It was winter-time when the new mother came to that meager cabin, and for the first time since they could remember Abraham and Sarah actually slept warm all night; for this good capable woman tucked them in with her abundance of blankets and patch-work quilts as cosily as she did her own son and two daugh- ters. She patched their few rags of clothes, too, and knit stockings for them, and tried, as she put it, "to A STEPMOTHER 39 make them look a little more human." "In fact," says Dennis Hanks, "in a few weeks all had changed, and where everything was wanting, now all was snug and comfortable." She must have been very tactful in her management of the children, for the two broods got along perfectly together, sharing household tasks as well as clothes and blankets. She encouraged them not only to be neat, but also to study and be ambitious. Her good advice was not wasted on Abraham, whom she regarded as her own child. Sally Bush Lincoln, thoughtful, pious, faithful step- mother, outlived Abraham, and not long before her death gave this testimony of his character : "I can say, what scarcely one mother in a thousand can say, that Abe never gave me a cross word or look and never refused to do anything I asked him. I had a son John, who was raised with Abe. Both were good boys, but I must say, both now being dead, that Abe was the best boy I ever saw or expect to see." -v. CHAPTER VII SCHOOL DAYS Sally Bush Lincoln had not been long at the helm in the Lincoln family when she realized that Abraham was "no common boy." His intelligence, his store of knowledge, and his character struck her as beyond the ordinary and she made up her vigorous mind that he should have a chance to "amount to something." During the first winter that Sally spent on Pigeon Creek a school opened near the country town and she packed off Abraham and his sister to it as well as her own three, John, Sarah and Matilda, with lunch baskets on their arms. These baskets held corn hoe cakes, with pieces of cold game or perhaps some "hog meat" and wild fruit. Such "eatings" were known among the settlers as "corn dodgers and common doin's" in con- trast to the holiday treat of "light bread and chicken fixin's." k These "snacks" were eaten at the noon re- cess, the pleasantest social hour of the whole school day. Recess was spent in racing, wrestling, rough frolics and friendly fights among the boys; in arm-in- arm promenades with "secrets" among the girls. The boys would swing the girls, squealing, high in grape vine swings and show their own prowess by climbing up and swinging down by their own weight from the tips of saplings. 40 SCHOOL DAYS 41 The squat log school house, like others of its day, sat in the woods by the side of a rutted mud road. It was built of round logs, nicked at the ends to fit together and chinked, like its pole chimney, with red clay. A buck's antlers were nailed over the door. This school was simply another one-room cabin, warmed in winter by great log fires kept blazing in the broad fireplace by the big boys. The stout floor was made of split- log puncheons, and split logs formed the desks. A desk consisted of half a log, the flat smoothed side (worn glassy by young arms) turned uppermost, the rounded bark side bored with auger holes and legs fitted in, short legs for small scholars in the front of the room, long legs for long-legged pupils in the rear. The desks stretched all across the room and several pupils, seated side by side on long benches, shared each desk, having to climb from the side aisles over each other's legs and laps to reach their places. There were windows in the schoolroom made by cutting pieces out of the log walls and framing the holes thus made by rough split boards. In the winter time these had sheets of greased leaves from copy books pasted across in place of glass to keep out the wind and let in light. In the back of the room, on a bench, stood a cedar water bucket with one gourd dip- per floating in it. The boys hung their caps on wooden pegs in the schoolroom wall on one side, the girls* cloaks and calico sunbonnets dangled from pegs on the other side. Boys sat on one side of the room, girls on the other, and it was the lowest humiliation to be sent, for punishment, to sit on the opposite side. It is doubtful whether Abe ever owned an arithme- 42 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN tic of his own while he went to school. He once made a notebook containing the tables for weights and measures and other simple formulae which served him as an arithmetic. Pages from this crude notebook are still in existence, and on the page where Abe had written how many pints a bushel contains some other boy had scrawled this scholarly legend^: "Abraham Lincoln, His hand and pen, He will be good But God knows when." Young Abraham through constant practice became a skilled penman, the best in the whole neighborhood. In an old copybook in the possession of one of the younger boys who attended school at that time are two lines which no one then would have considered a prophecy : "Good boys who to their books apply Will all be great men by and by." Abe, it appears, was equally good in spelling, — so good in fact that he often had to be left out of the "spelling bees" that were features of country school days, because to have Abe on one side simply forecast that side's victory. He liked to use his knowledge to help out less fortunate comrades and on one occasion saved them from being kept in after school. The word given was "defied" and one scholar after another fell before it until the stern school master threatened to hold the whole class after school until the word was spelled aright. Desperately the pupils gave frantic SCHOOL DAYS 43 guesses, "de-f-i-de" ventured one, "de-f-y-de" offered another, "d-e-f-y-e-d-e" another guessed. At this mo- ment a Miss Roby, a young lady of 15 years and one of the "big girls," chanced to catch sight of Abe's face outside the window. He grinned and pointed to his eye. She quickly took the hint, changed the well worn y to i; saved the day and released the class. Abe's humor and helpfulness made him fast popular with his mates. They liked to gather round him at recess time and listen to him "preach," a pastime he still practiced, enjoying it as much as he used to in his little-boy imitation of the itinerant preachers on Knob Creek. He used to "preach" at recess against cruelty to animals, for it roused him to wrath to see boys molest small animals., and he particularly inveighed against the practice of putting hot coals of fire on terrapins' backs to see them squirm in agony from their shells. While "preaching" hotly against this one day, his stepbrother, John, threw a turtle against the tree under which Abe was standing and crushed its shell so that "it suffered much and quivered all over." Whereupon Abe launched such invectives against cruelty and made such a plea against it that his "sermon" must indeed have been "powerful," for the boys who heard it never for- got what he said. After this Abe wrote an earnest composition on "Cruelty to Animals," which his old friend, Nat Grigsby says, was not demanded by the teacher but one that Abe "took up on his own account." Abraham disliked hunting and trapping animals, even though the necessity for food often forced him to do it. He gives the following picture of himself as a very small and reluctant hunter in a strange autobiography 44 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN prepared at the request of a friend in i860, and written altogether in the third person: "A few days before the completion of his eighth year, in the absence of his father, a flock of wild turkeys approached the new log cabin, and Abraham, with a rifle gun, standing inside, shot through a crack and killed one of them. He has never since pulled trigger on any larger game!* This attitude toward cruelty was but a foreshadow- ing of the emotion he was to feel years later when viewing with revulsion the slave market at New Or- leans. School was only an intermittent thing in the back- woods. Abraham's attendance, interrupted by the lack of a teacher or by his having to work either for his father, or, in a pinch, at hire for some neighbor, was very irregular. The years were slipping by, Abe was no longer a small pupil on a front bench, but one of the "big boys" himself. In the winter of 1820 a Mr. Andrew Crawford came to that region to settle and as he was looked upon as a man of great culture he was urged to open the disused school. "Another chance for you, Abe," said Lincoln's step- mother, and insisted on sending him in spite of Tom's grumbling. This Mr. Crawford, the aforementioned martinet of the spelling bee, introduced instruction in "manners" to the backwoods school, an innovation which reduced the giggling country boys and girls sometimes to hilar- ity and again to painful embarrassment as one by one they took turns in entering the room in polite fashion, being greeted by another scholar and ceremoniously SCHOOL DAYS 45 presented in turn to each of the "young ladies' ' and "young gentlemen" present, with drawing-room man- ners. These efforts at attaining social grace must have been both pitiful and ludicrous in Abraham, for he was a great gawky rustic boy of ungainly proportions. At this time he was rounding out his fifteenth year of outdoor, muscular life, and only two years later he reached his full growth of 6 ft. 4, so that he then was a lanky powerful youth, spindle-shanked, angular and homely with huge, awkward, bony hands and feet. His skin, from life-long exposure to the weather, was swarthy and shriveled even then, according to old Mrs. Gentry of Gentry ville fame. Thus far Abe's life had been one of continual hard manual labor with daily use of the ax, maul, hoe and plow, until like many a country boy whose young muscles are overtaxed too early by hard labor, he moved throughout his life with a certain stoop and stiffness. Perhaps one of the most subtle touches in George Billings' motion picture de- lineation of Lincoln is the naturalness with which he consistently depicts this deliberate country-bred gait of Lincoln's, never forgetting even in the White House scenes that stoop and slowness of knotted muscles, stif- fened joints and the characteristic rustic walk of feet long accustomed to the soft unevenness of plowed furrows. In his school days Abraham Lincoln's appearance was truly that of a frontiersman. He wore a coon skin cap with its bushy dangling tail, a linsey-woolsey or else a deerskin hunting shirt, moccasins and buckskin breeches. The breeches fitted tightly to his lean legs, but only came half way down his bare shins, and as he 46 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN rarely had socks, these unprotected shins stuck out ' 'sharp, blue and narrow." Nat Grigsby said, "He would always come to school like this, good humored and laughing. He was always in good health, never was sick and had an excellent constitution.'* Abe's appearance might have handicapped him in cutting a socially graceful figure in schoolmaster Craw- ford's exercises in etiquette, but his good health stood him in good stead in keeping up his studies at night after laborious days in cornfield and at plowhandle. He would come in from work mentally alert and look- ing forward to the enjoyment of a book, a pastime which made his disgruntled father grumble that "Abe was too big and strong for booklearning." Many a time in anger Tom dashed a book from his son's hand and threatened to toss it into the fire. He could not break up Abe's habit and night after night the boy would sprawl on the floor beside the fire lost in thought as he pored over some book, only raising his head occa- sionally to toss on the fire more resinous knots of fat pine, called "lightwood," which flared forth in a bright blaze easy to read by. From everything he read Abe made excerpts, comments and memoranda with his turkey buzzard pen and blackberry root ink in home- made notebooks. When he had no paper or ink he used chalk or charcoal to write or cipher on the walls or floor. A wooden ash shovel at the hearth was his usual slate and on this he did charcoal sums until the entire shovel was so covered that he had to shave it off for a fresh writing surface. Here by the hearth he would lie and read or write until late and then go to bed with a book stuck in the cracks between logs by his bed SCHOOL DAYS 47 where he could reach it by the first streak of dawn. His own store of books was small, but he borrowed others and once told a friend that he had "read every book he ever heard of in that country for a circuit of 50 miles." He afterwards secured a history of the U. S. and a copy of Arabian Nights and Dennis Hanks said of the latter that "Abe would lay on the floor with a chair under his head and laugh over them stories by the hour." For a long time, however, he had only his mother's Bible and Pilgrim's Progress, her JEsop's ] Fables and Robinson Crusoe. These four books he knew by heart and their clear, simple, forceful diction was ever after to influence the language of the man whose speeches, especially the memorable one made at Gettysburg, were to become immortal prose. All day long, wherever Abe went, he carried some book in his pocket, and at every spare moment he snatched an opportunity to read. Sometimes this was under a tree at noon. Sometimes it was while he watered his horse or rested the animal at the end of a long hard furrow. Perched on stump, log or fence, Abe had his nose in a book too often to please his im- patient father who believed he was just "plain lazy." Thomas Lincoln did not live to see his son justified by fame. But if Tom did not recognize his own boy as promis- ing, the neighborhood did. Captain John Lamar who knew Abe in Gentryville, recalls an incident of this from his boyhood. Lamar had driven to the mill with his father when they passed Abe sitting on the top rail of a roadside worm fence so absorbed in a book that he took no notice of the passing wagon. "John," said 48 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN Lamar's father, 'look at that boy yonder and mark my words he will make something of himself. I may not live to see it, but you will see if my words don't come true." PART II Young Manhood Wealth is a superfluity of what we don't need." CHAPTER VIII JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES Abraham's schooling, which he says he got "by littles," hardly amounted to a year in his whole life. It was over and he was put to work in earnest by the time he was fifteen. If Lincoln could return to-day, surely nothing would be nearer his heart than the public school system which now offers free to every boy in the country the books and opportunities which he was denied. His schoolroom days over, Abe "hired out" at vari- ous odd jobs, now turning his hand to one thing, now to another, seeming to make little headway in his prom- ise of "amounting to something." It was years before he really found himself. The first job at which Abe was employed away from home was as "hired man" for a well-to-do farmer, Josiah Crawford, near Gentry ville in 1824. Abe did not like Crawford — "Old Blue Nose," as he was ir- reverently called — but there were three things which recompensed him for his menial position in this family. The first was that he was in company here with his sister who was serving as maid of all work. The second was the fact that he held a strong attach- ment for Mrs. Crawford who took a motherly interest in both Abe and his sister and encouraged them in every way with her cheery conversation. He liked to "hang 51 52 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN about" in the kitchen after meals and joke and gossip with Mrs. Crawford and his sister and would reluc- tantly break away to return to work with the exclama- tion, "Well, this won't buy the child a coat!" Mrs. Crawford did much to brighten the days for her hired help with her love of fun and genuine interest in their welfare. She says that Abe was "sensitive about com- ing around where he thought he wasn't wanted" and that he was "tender and kind like his sister." He enjoyed the Crawfords' books, and Mrs. Craw- ford testifies that from her Kentucky Preceptor he memorized many "pieces to speak." These books formed the third feature which reconciled Abe to his stay in the Crawford household, and as Mrs. Crawford was generous in lending them, Abe always had a book to carry up to read in bed at night. Sometimes he would sit in the twilight reading the dictionary until it grew too dark to see. The year at Crawford's passed quickly for him. The following year when he was sixteen, Abe was employed at $6 a month and "keep" by a certain James Taylor who ran a ferry across the Ohio River near Troy at about the spot where years before Thomas and Nancy Lincoln with two children and two pack horses crossed to try their fortunes in Indiana. At Taylor's Abe acted not only as man-of -all-work, but as maid-of- all-work as well. Here he started his working day before dawn : fed stock, milked, drew water, built fires, started the kettle boiling and swept up before Mrs. Taylor was out of bed. He helped her with her heavier work, drawing great wooden tubs of water for wash day, grinding corn, killing chickens and the like and JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES 53 was then released for farm work where he acted as stable boy, plowman and ferryman besides. It was on the ferry that Abe found leisure enough for the reading that made this position at all endurable. Tay- lor owned some shelves of books and in order to get these all read Abe used to sit up devouring them until midnight night after night in spite of the fact that he had to rise by four o'clock. He shared an attic room with the son of the family, Green Taylor, and perhaps Abe's habit of keeping a light burning late accounts for the fact that Green was thoroughly ill disposed toward Abe. From ferrying Abe turned his hand to butchering, for being asked one day whether he could kill a hog he replied that he didn't know as he had never tried, but added, "If you will risk the hog, I'll risk myself I" He proved successful as slaughterer and added this to his accomplishments as jack-of -all-trades. After this Taylor used to sub-let him at 30 cents a day to other farmers at ' 'hog-killing time," with a remark that gives us an insight into Lincoln's adaptability: "Abe'll do one thing about as well as another." Although Abe gained a useful reputation as being a "good hand" at any sort of labor, it cannot truthfully be said that he loved work. His chief delight was to lie on his back under some tree with his feet cocked high up on the trunk, a book in his hands, lost to the world. He went about a good deal of the time absent- minded, sunk in meditation and a studious abstraction that made some of his neighbors, who failed to realize his continual mental activity, believe, like his father, that he was lazy. John Romine, a neighbor, was one 54 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN of these, and Mr. William Herndon, who so painstak- ingly interviewed in person every one he could find who knew Lincoln, reports this farmer as saying: "Abe worked for me but was always reading and thinking. I used to get mad at him for it. I say he was awful lazy. He would laugh and talk, — crack his jokes and tell stories all the time, — didn't love work half as much as his pay. He said to me one day that his father taught him to work, but never taught him to love it." Abe Lincoln was well liked among his neighbors, for his upright character made him trusted and his good humor and unfailing fund of droll stories made him such "good company" that he was hailed with hearty welcome wherever he went. In fact, his employers sometimes complained that he wasted his own and other workers' time with story telling, "speech-making" and hilarity, but he made up for this when he did turn to, by using his enormous strength with an ease and ef- fectiveness that accomplished as much as three men. Dennis Hanks said, "My, how he would chop! His ax would flash and bite into a sugar tree or sycamore and down it would come. If you heard him felling trees in a clearing you would say there was three men at work by the way the trees fell." Abe's strength by the time he had reached his growth was proverbial throughout the countryside and always kept him in demand where, there was hard labor to be done. Richardson, the neighbor who as a little schoolboy had asked Abe to set him a copy of penmanship, tells some amazing feats of strength that Lincoln accomplished. He says one day he saw Abe pick up and walk off with a hen JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES 55 house made of slim logs doweled together and roofed which "must have weighed at least six hundred pounds if not more." "He could strike with a maul/' says old Mr. Wood, "a heavier blow than any man, and he could sink an ax deeper into wood than any man I ever saw." It must not be supposed that Lincoln's life was made up only of hard physical labor and mental concentra- tion. No picture of Lincoln's youth would be com- plete that failed to give some idea of his hours of rec- reation. The sports and amusements which he enjoyed were typical of the pastimes of young people in those days and did much to develop in Lincoln the qualities of good fellowship which characterized him and made him a general favorite. Although Lincoln was too tender-hearted to enjoy gunning for mere sportsmanship, he did enjoy follow- ing the dogs at night on coon or possum hunts by the light of flaring torches, and there were other evenings spent fishing in Pigeon Creek or with a crowd of boys in the "old swimming hole." Lincoln enjoyed chiefly the sports and gatherings which brought people to- gether in social merriment, — his reaction perhaps, to much solitude. At running, jumping and "wrastlin' " he excelled and he rarely missed an opportunity to at- tend a fox chase or county horse race. Lincoln was not limited to those gatherings alone where men met for rougher pastimes. He enjoyed taking the young girls of the neighborhood to spelling school or to meeting. "Meeting" in itself was a social event, and when a traveling preacher came around whole families packed 56 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN up to ride ten or twelve miles to church. Sometimes they rode in straw-filled wagons, the children squatting on sheepskins in the straw, the old ladies seated in split- bottomed chairs holding lunch baskets on their laps. Boys and young men followed on mule or horse- back and many a woman rode to church on a pillion behind her husband's or sweetheart's saddle. The lit- tle log church in the grove of giant trees would ring with the preacher's shouting and the congregation's lusty, rustic hymns. Children too small to sit in a hard pew without wriggling through hours of vocifer- ous sermon, amused themselves outside among the hitched teams and saddle horses, playing with the dogs, until it was time for preaching to let out, and dinner to be spread. When this seemed too delayed they were quieted with a chicken bone or cold sweet potato. During week days, Lincoln, like other country youths, drifted to that social center, the country store, in Gentryville. One attraction here for Abe was the fact that Mr. Jones, the storekeeper, took a newspaper and Lincoln lost no opportunity to get his hands on every copy. It was the custom of all the men and boys in the neighborhood to gather at this store, read the paper and hotly discuss its politics. Here Lincoln first indulged in political debate. The country store with its flour-barrel oratory has ever been a factor in shap- ing political opinion throughout America, and this particular store, where Abraham Lincoln himself first held forth, was doubtless like countless others, — a squat little one-roomed, A-roofed building, standing at a cross-roads. Here mail was received and distributed, JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES 57 and groceries, clothing and tools traded for eggs and other commodities. This store, together with a mill, smithy, schoolhouse, church and a few farmhouses comprised the Gentryville that was originally only the clearing and cabin of one enterprising Mr. Gentry. At this store men gathered at mail time, awaiting the horseback approach of the mail rider with his saddle- bags and the momentous weekly newspaper. Two counters reached down the sides of the store, and shelved behind them were bolts of colored calico ; boxes of needles; pins; spun yarn and wool for spinning; homemade cheeses; jackknives; axheads and handles; hair pins ; plow points ; tobacco ; rifles and ammunition ; beads and trinkets. From the rafters hung smoked meats ; plow handles ; tanned hides ; herbs ; seeds ; rakes ; water buckets ; raw- hide whips ; saddles ; harness ; coats and men's hats. In the space between the counters and before the open fireplace which occupied the rear end of the store, were disposed crates of live chickens and barrels of flour, sugar, salt, corn meal, cider, molasses and whiskey, all of which afforded seats where the debaters could sit, drum their heels, spit into the fireplace and air their shrewd common sense on questions of the day. Though these farmers were isolated from any city and were far from Capitol and White House, no problem of the country's welfare escaped their vital comment. Even at this early date, Abraham Lincoln, his legs dangling from the store counter, held forth on slavery which was becoming a burning question for the nation even then and was warmly argued upon in the free state of In- diana. 58 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN It was not long before Lincoln attained a local repu- tation at debate, "speech-making" and "saying pieces." He could reel off from memory all the poems and speeches of his school readers, and as of old, enjoyed imitating itinerant preachers, to the huge delight of his fellows. Added to these accomplishments he now ac- quired no small skill in making political speeches which would always draw a crowd and applause. This sort of thing he enjoyed too much to suit his father or his employers, who did not recognize the humble beginning of a power in speech-making that was later to stir the nation. Abe's interest in speech-making had often drawn him to the court house where he listened absorbed to the lawyers' appeals, — the only public speeches he had ever heard beside country sermons. This was his introduc- tion to the practice of law, which afterwards became his own profession. On one such occasion Abe had walked fifteen miles to the Boonville court house to attend a trial for murder. The defense had secured John Breckenridge, a lawyer of exceptional ability, and when this man rose to speak Abe heard for the first time in his life a truly cultured man deliver a sound argument with real eloquence. Abe was so im- pressed that he dashed up after the trial and enthusias- tically congratulated the speaker. Mr. Breckenridge was a cold, haughty man, of small-bore caliber, and offended at what he deemed presumption on the part of a country bumpkin, he brushed the enthusiastic, gawky boy aside without a word. Interested in law perhaps through this contact with the court, Abe soon found an opportunity to read his JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES 59 first law book. Dave Turnham, the town constable, possessed a copy of the "Revised Statutes of Indiana," and although he would not lend this volume, being firm in the belief that a constable should always have it on hand, he permitted Abe to come to his house and read these laws as much as he liked. The boy spent hours poring over them. Abraham Lincoln in this haphazard fashion began reading law long before he realized that his tastes were to point that way. A foreshadowing of his own power seemed to form at least dimly in Lincoln's own mind during this youth- ful period. One book, which up to this point in his life had done more than any other to kindle his ambi- tion, was a copy of Weem's Life of Washington, which he borrowed from Josiah Crawford and took home to read. As usual he took the book to bed and stuck it in a crack between the logs by his bed when he went to sleep. It rained during the night, and the water, soaking through the clay daubing between the logs, stained the pages and ruined the binding. To Abraham, this book with its inspiring story of. a hero's life, seemed an invaluable volume and he feared that he could never afford to pay for it. With sinking heart he went to Mr. Crawford and asked how he could "work out" payment. To the credit of "Old Blue Nose" be it said that he replied good-naturedly, "Being as it's you, Abe, I won't be too hard on you. Come over and shuck corn for three days and the book's yours." The surprise and relief of these easy terms coupled with actual ownership of the treasured volume besides so delighted Abe's heart that he felt as if he were re- 60 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN ceiving a handsome present. To own this biography- meant far more in Lincoln's life than Crawford could ever suppose. It was after reading this book that Abe used to tell the Craw fords that he did not intend to shuck corn and split rails all his life. When Mrs. Crawford used to ask him what he intended to be when he grew up, he always answered half soberly, "I think I'll be President." "Oh, yes!" Mrs. Crawford would laugh, "You'd make a fine president, wouldn't you, with your long legs and your tricks and jokes!" And Abe would answer, "Oh, I'll study and be ready and the chance will come." CHAPTER IX THE RAILSPLITTER In the autumn of 1830, Thomas Lincoln startled his family by announcing that he had made up his mind to pack up and move to Illinois. Life on Pigeon Creek, he complained, was nothing but hard work and "slim pickin's," and John Hanks, a relative who had gone from Kentucky to settle near Decatur in Macon County, Illinois, kept sending back word of the promising land and prospects he found there and urging the Lincolns to join him. John Hanks was a substantial, steady- going member of the family and his word carried weight. Tom Lincoln, always too ready to move, was easily persuaded that life would surely be easier in Illinois and accordingly as soon as his crops were harvested and his hogs fattened, he transferred his land to old Mr. Gentry, sold his corn and pigs and once more packed up his household goods and proceeded to migrate. Before leaving the old Pigeon Creek cabin, Abe lingered in farewell beside his mother's grave on the little knoll beside the graves of those other stout- hearted pioneers, Thomas and Betsy Sparrow. He re- called that other migration when he was little and re- membered his mother's grief -stricken farewell on Knob Creek at the baby's grave now lost in forest under- brush. Abraham had fenced in his mother's grave from encroaching growth and wandering wild animals, 61 62 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN and as he now outlined the mound with smooth stones he pondered on how much he had to remember in leaving Pigeon Creek. There was another grave for Abraham to visit before he left, not beside his mother's, but in the little bury- ing ground of the old Pigeon Creek meeting house. Here lay his sister Sarah, who had married Aaron Grigsby a few years before, and died scarcely a year later in childbirth. Pioneer life was cruel to women and babies in those days, and many a needless death brought grief to isolated settlers. Abraham and his only sister were bound to one another by the special ties that rise from early hardships, joys and sorrows shared and from mutual memories that no one else can know. It was with lonely heart that Abraham left behind this sole companion of those childhood days that Nancy Lincoln had hallowed. The anniversary of the memorable blizzard came around before the emigrating party started, and so Abraham reached twenty-one and left Pigeon Creek and boyhood behind him. This time the emigrating family traveled in a covered wagon hauled by four slow oxen. Tom and Abraham with Sally and Sally's son John, climbed into this wagon that contained all their possessions includ- ing Abe's books, Sally's precious forty-dollar bureau, Tom's tools and John's guns. The rest of the family followed on behind in other steer carts. These carried the household goods of Sally's two daughters, now married, and were driven by their husbands, a Mr. Hall and our old friend Dennis Hanks. Each was equipped with a crude outfit to camp out along the way. The THE RAILSPLITTER 63 season was bitterly uncomfortable for outdoor camp- ing, as winter had fairly set in before they started, but the trip had to be made then in order to reach the new farm in time for housebuilding before early plowing and planting. The ground was stiff with frost and during the chill mornings and sharp evenings the clumsy carts bumped heavily over frozen ruts while in the middle of the day a little thaw made the mud sticky enough for hard pulling. There were no bridges and the teams had to be sharply goaded into the icy water to ford each stream where thin sheets of ice crashed under hoof and wheel like shattered glass. Following along after the wagons trotted a little pet dog, which indulged in frisky excusions after roadside rabbits and one day was left behind when the wagons forded a swollen stream. His sharp barks from the opposite bank drew the family's attention, and there stood the little fellow frantic at being left behind but afraid to venture on the broken ice that was now floating half submerged in rushing water. It was far too great an undertaking to turn about the steers and drive back through the stream to get the dog and so it was decided to leave him lucklessly behind. They had not gone far, how- ever, before Abraham's conscience troubled him and he sprang down over the wheels and ran back. Strip- ping off his shoes and rolling up his breeches, he plunged into the icy water and waded back to the bank where the pet dog with quick tongue, shrill whines and thumping tail kept up ecstatic demonstrations of grati- tude as Abe waded back to shore with the shivering dog under his arm. 64 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN The oxen swung along so slowly that it was easy to linger behind the teams and then overtake them. In this way Abe succeeded in doing a fair peddling busi- ness along the way by running up to the scattered farm houses they passed. Before leaving Gentry ville Abe had invested all his hoarded capital, some thirty dollars, in stocking up with such commodities as he well knew the isolated farmers' wives along the way would be only too glad to buy, as some of these homes were a day's journey on horseback from even the smallest country store. Many a farmer's wife welcomed the diversion of looking through the pack he brought to her door and was glad of the convenience of purchasing much needed buttons, needles and thread. The most ambi- tious article in his pack was a set of table knives and forks. Whether these went to enrich some country bride and groom or to brighten the crude table in the log cabin of some large, poor family is not recorded, but the story of what became of them cannot fail to ap- peal to the imagination of those who sympathized with the delight Sally's set had brought to Abraham and little Sarah years ago. Abe had invested his money for these supplies at Jones' store where he had spent so many pleasant hours in joking and debate, where he had gained a reputation as backwoods orator and where he had clerked during his last winter in Indiana. The men who used to gather at the store were heartily sorry to have him go and to some of these he wrote back about his trip, telling that he had more than doubled his money in peddling. The only clew we have to-day of the route the migrating family took, is through these THE RAILSPLITTER 65 letters of Abe's, one of which mentions that they passed through Vincennes where he saw his first print- ing press, and through Palestine where he saw a magi- cian do sleight-of-hand tricks. For two weeks the family dragged their slow way through wilderness roads in the dead of winter until at last they came out at John Hanks' place near Decatur, on the north fork of the Sangamon River. Hanks met them with the warmest welcome which must have cheered the women especially after their cold and wearying trip. The foresighted Hanks had picked out a location for them a few miles from his own and had even cut logs ready for their house. There were enough men in their own party, counting Tom, Dennis, Abraham, John, Mr. Hall and Hanks, to erect a log house with- out calling on their neighbors for help, as was custom- ary. With the family housed, there remained only one more piece of work for Abraham to do for his father before he left home to strike out for himself. This was to plow fifteen acres of land which, with the help of John Hanks, he then fenced in with rails split from "the forest primeval." They little dreamed as they split these historic rails that one day John Hanks would appear with two of these very rails on his shoulder at the Republican State Convention and turn the tide for "Abraham Lincoln as first choice of the Republican Party of Illinois for the Presidency 1" CHAPTER X THE TRIP TO NEW ORLEANS In plowing and fencing the new farm on Sanga- mon River, Abe did his last work for his father and now assumed the independence of his twenty-one years by leaving home to shift for himself. He left home knowing no trade and taking nothing but the disreputable clothes on his back. His good health, great strength, studious nature and the ability to make himself popular, comprised the only capital with which he faced the world in 1830. Two years later he was nominated for the State Legislature. For a time he drifted, taking any odd job that would bring him three meals a day, a bed at night and an occasional suit of clothes. He served as farm hand, plowman, lumberer or flatboatman, and rail- splitting was one of his chief occupations. John Hanks says "he made 3000 rails for Major Warnick" walking six miles, back and forth from work, every day. Money was scarce among the settlers and on one occa- sion he was paid for his woodchopping in homespun for clothing. According to the bargain, Abe was to receive a yard of brown walnut-dyed jeans for every 400 rails. As Abe measured six feet four, considerable fencing went to pay for his homespun and homemade coat and trousers. During this time Abe continued his enthusiasm for speech-making and often when alone in the woods 66 THE TRIP TO NEW ORLEANS 67 would mount a fallen log and make a stirring address with only trees and squirrels as audience. Had any one caught him at his solitary practice he would surely have been branded "queer." It was not long, however, before he had the opportunity of making a triumphant speech in public. Good old John Hanks tells of it in his own words in this way: "After Abe got to Decatur, or rather to Macon County, a man by the name of Posey came into our neighborhood and made a speech. It was a bad one, and I said Abe could beat it. I turned down a box and Abe made his speech on it. Abe beat him to death, his subject being the navigation of the Sangamon River. The man, after Abe's speech was through, took him aside and asked him where he had learned so much and how he could do so well. Abe replied, stating his man- ner and method of reading, and what he had read. The man encouraged him to persevere." We can only conjecture, from the similarity in names, that this was the man Posey with whom Tom Lincoln had stored his tools and whiskey on his first exploring trip to Indiana, the Posey who first saw Lin- coln as a little black-haired boy in buckskin breeches and coonskin cap, leading a tired pack horse. As encouraged by the proud Hanks and magnani- mous Posey, Lincoln continued speech-making, at any rate in private, gaining in power that was shortly to bring campaign success. And so, with speech-making and railsplitting passed 1830, the first year of his inde- pendence. Then came an incident which was to exert a far-reaching influence that flowered finally in the Emancipation Proclamation. 68 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN While the Sangamon River was still swollen with the March thaws and freshets of 183 1 there appeared upon the scene a man who was "destined to exert no small influence in shaping Lincoln's fortunes." This was one Daniel Offutt, whose business ventures ex- tended up and down the Sangamon with varying suc- cess. At this time he was preparing a shipment to be sent to New Orleans, and having heard of John Hanks' reputation as a skillful boatman in Kentucky he came down the Sangamon to engage Hanks for the trip. John Hanks tells of this himself, as follows : "He wanted me to go badly, but I waited awhile before answering. I hunted up Abe and I introduced him and his stepbrother, John, to Offutt. After some talk we at last made an engagement with Offutt at fifty cents a day and sixty dollars, to make the trip to New Orleans. Abe and I came down the Sangamon River in a canoe in March, 1831, landed at what is now called Jamestown, five miles east of Springfield, then known as Judy's Ferry." Here they were met by John and the three walked over to Springfield to join Offutt whom they found at the Tavern indulging in a little too much "good cheer." It had been agreed that Offutt should have a boat ready and waiting for them at the mouth of Spring Creek, but Offutt was a convivial soul who squandered too many days in good company at the Tavern, and he met them now with warm welcome, bloodshot eye and profusest apologies for his failure to provide any boat. Hanks, John and Abe thereupon agreed to build a boat themselves. THE TRIP TO NEW ORLEANS 69 They started in to build this at a place called Sanga- montown, a town no longer on the map, but at that time a settlement of some importance so that the repu- tation for wit, courage and popularity which Abe gained during his boatbuilding stay there was passed about until wide-spread. It took a month to build the flat boat and during that time Abe became a village favorite with his jokes, story-telling, good fellowship and courage. An exhibition of his quick wit, strength and courage came as a climax to his popularity just before he left for New Orleans. This happened in the spring following "the winter of the big snow," an ever-to-be-talked-of snowstorm in which men and cattle perished on the prairies and women starved to death in isolated cabins half buried in the blizzard. The river was high and roaring with these melted drifts, when two boys who were helping in the boatbuilding, ventured to float downstream on a small log "dug-out." The current swept them down like a mill race, capsized the crude canoe, and the boys, caught in the icy torrent, were washed into the brittle branches of an old elm tree that lay in the middle of the stream. Another boy from the bank ventured a rescue but, falling into the water, barely succeeded in maintaining a perch beside the other victims in the tree. The excitement of this peril brought nearly the whole population of the village to gather on the bank and to shout frantic and conflicting advice. It was Lin- coln who effected a rescue of all three boys by tying a rope to a log and while men on shore held the rope, he straddled the log, floated down stream, guiding his log directly into the tree. From there, amid shouts of 70 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN applause from the crowd on the bank, he succeeded in having the men on shore haul the boys to safety upon his improvised life preserver. It may be left to guess whether or not the men who cheered his prowess that day later cast their votes for Abraham Lincoln. When the flatboat was finally finished, it was hardly more than a rough raft, but it served to float its cargo of live hogs, corn, and barrels of pork. With this, the genial Offutt and his whiskey flask on board, Abe, Hanks and John manned the oars and poles and swung the boat out into current and downstream. They were halted at New Salem, a place that was to play a lead- ing part in Lincoln's destiny. Here fate played her hand in Lincoln's future, for the flatboat stranded and hung for a night and a day over the mill dam of a certain James Rutledge, one of New Salem's founders. Long, long afterwards President Lincoln was to declare, "I have loved the name of Rutledge to this day." There was nothing presidential in the aspect of the bony, long-shanked young man who struggled to help his fellow boatmen dislodge the stranded craft. He wore a loose homespun coat and his pantaloons were stuffed into tall rawhide boots. His broad-brimmed felt hat had once been black, but, as he drolly remarked, it was "sunburned now until it was a combine of colors." This was the uncouth figure who unloaded squealing pigs and heavy barrels to a borrowed boat and then engineered the boring of a hole in the end of the swamped boat that stuck out in mid air over the dam. The bilge water ran out of this hole which was then THE TRIP TO NEW ORLEANS 71 plugged as the boat tipped up and slid neatly over the dam. Offutt was vociferously enthusiastic over Abe's ingenuity and boasted loudly to the crowd that had gathered to watch that some day he was going to build a boat equipped with rollers to slide over dams and shoals and fitted with runners to glide over ice and with Abe as captain "By Thunder, she'd have to go !" Offutt was a wordy man and the day was to come when his bragging of Lincoln's powers would precipi- tate a fight. Denton Offutt, however, was not alone in admiration of Abraham that day. There appeared on the bank the dainty figure of James Rutledge's pretty daughter Ann, in whose shy appreciation of Abe's ability that day began one of the love idylls of American history. Abe was not blind to her inspection of him and the picture of Ann Rutledge from that moment was never blotted from his heart. To the young backwoodsman accus- tomed only to the stocky country girls and work- coarsened women of his acquaintance, Ann was an unbelievable vision of all that was dainty and fair. As he poled off down the river he could not take his eyes from her, and did not look where he was going until he bumped the boat into a snag and was rewarded by Hanks' good-natured ridicule. As he passed out of sight around a turn in the river, Ann Rutledge was joined by John McNeil, the Beau Brummell who was her fiance and who inquired indignantly whether she knew the flatboatman to whom she had ventured a friendly wave of her handkerchief. Ann replied half wistfully, half mischievously that she wished she did, he was "so gawky and so kindly." And so for a little 72 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN while Abraham Lincoln passed down the river and out of her sight. Once out upon the Illinois River the flatboat crew hoisted crude "sails made of planks and cloth" which caused shouts of laughter from those who watched the boat along the shore. Nevertheless these sails car- ried them out upon the broad Mississippi and down that stream where they tied up at Memphis, Vicks- burg and Natchez along the way. They reached New Orleans in May and here they spent a month selling their wares and seeing the sights. One sight was branded on Abraham's memory forever. This was the slave market where human slavery in its full horror first met his eyes. The market place was an open plaza surrounded by dealers' offices, auction blocks, auctioneers' booths, and pens and shanties where waiting slaves were confined for sale like shipments of cattle. Here auctioning, dickering, trading and swapping took place. Fresh shipments of human beings from other states were driven in here and put on the open market, prices for human flesh rose and fell. Small droves of slaves were driven by dealers back and forth across this plaza: groups of thick-necked, knotted-muscled black men; slim yellow women; little frightened pickaninnies. Here was the sound of crying women, whimpering children, the crack of the whip, the auctioneer's drone, the market gossip of buyers. Occasionally a frenzied slave would bolt for escape and there followed the sound of flogging and the sight of raw human blood. Escape was impractical, the slaves were coupled to- gether by ropes or chains like strings of unbroken THE TRIP TO NEW ORLEANS 73 horses led to market, and resistance was scarcely more than the plunging of a restless horse or ugly bull. Auctioneers knocked down human beings displayed on blocks to highest bidders. Dealers walked slaves up and down to show that they were able and active, while bidders examined the negroes' eyes, teeth and muscles, poking and feeling their flesh and limbs as a buyer scrutinizes a new horse. Here negroes, strong men, big women, young girls, were put naked on the block to satisfy purchasers that they were unblem- ished. Here the blacks underwent examination for minute physical detail from breeders who picked their slaves as stockmen choose their cattle. Broken old men and withered hags were knocked down at bargains to be worked to death for the little life left in them. Prices for children and "likely wenches" and middle- aged negroes ranged from $500 to $800 and quotations from auction sales reports show that prices for negroes in their prime sometimes ran as high as $1,150 to $1,800 a head, putting the cost price of a single slave beyond the reach of the small planter. Children grown sufficiently to be put to light work were wrenched from their mothers and sold before their very eyes, while the pitiful maternal grief was ignored as the mere lowing of a cow for its calf. Of all the slave markets in the country there was none with a more hideous reputation than that at New Orleans. This city was in the heart of the region which depended more than any other on slave labor for its prosperity. Vast cotton fields, deadly rice swamps and cane brakes absorbed all the slave labor procurable, and to fill the enormous demand for negroes in this 74 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN region, vile and unscrupulous means were resorted to. Kidnaping of free negroes from other states and the smuggling of them, as well as stolen and imported natives from other countries, was a more prosperous and underhanded business than bootlegging ever prom- ised to be. Federal prohibition of this practice was cir- cumvented by devious evil ways and the smuggling went on. As late as 1858 a shipload of kidnaped free negroes sailed from Perth Amboy, N. J., to disgorge its contents on the New Orleans market, whence the victims were lost to identity in Louisiana swamps. Stolen slaves were disfigured enough to disguise their ownership and resold like any other burglar loot, through " fences.' ' Speculators bought up convicts and shipped them for trade. It was the fate of any run- away slave when caught to be beaten unmercifully and sent to the New Orleans market, and to be sold at New Orleans was the end of all hope. Slaves here met with none of the kind destiny that sometimes fell to the lot of house servants in other states where they often be- came household favorites, petted, spoiled and loved as "aunt" or "uncle" to the white children in the family. To be "sold down the river" meant nothing but the hardest life, labor and exposure in sugar and cotton or rice fields, where the practice was to buy and use up human flesh to its last resistance as old horses are bought up and worked for all that is in them until they drop. Seven years was the greatest span of life to be expected in the stench and steam of the rice swamps of that day. Such was the revelation of the harshest aspect of slavery as presented to the country boy from Sangamon THE TRIP TO NEW ORLEANS 75 River. The backwoodsman who could not bear to kill a turtle, shoot game, or abandon a little shivering dog could not endure the slave market sights longer than it took to impress on him the horrors of the slaving system. Mercy and justice ever characterized Abraham Lincoln and he withdrew from this scene with revul- sion and an "unconquerable hate." "Come on, boys,' , he said, "let's get out of here, but if I ever get a chance to hit that thing I am going to hit it hard !" CHAPTER XI THE COUNTRY STOREKEEPER On returning from New Orleans, Abe took up Offutt's offer to run a country store which that enter- prising speculator planned to open in New Salem. New Salem was the village where the flatboat had run aground on the Rutledge -mill dam and so by another turn of fate's shuttle the strands of Lincoln's and Ann Rutledge's lives were woven together. The lively Offutt always proved behindhand in his bargains and perhaps the Little Brown Jug again de- layed him, for Lincoln was obliged to loaf about in Salem waiting for merchant and merchandise to ap- pear. It was during these idle days that he came in contact with his first election-day experience. A local election was going on and the schoolmaster, Mr. Mentor Graham, was appointed as one clerk, the other clerk, Mr. McNeil, Ann's fiance, fell ill and could not appear. In casting about for a substitute, the schoolmaster noticed the stranger who appeared to be always reading. He therefore asked Lincoln whether he could write as well as read, to which Abe replied dryly that he guessed he could make "a few rabbit tracks," and he was thereupon taken on as election clerk. In this way Lincoln struck up a friendship with the kindly schoolmaster who later did much to help him in his study of grammar and surveying. 76 THE COUNTRY STOREKEEPER 77 In the course of time the derelict Offutt appeared with his goods which Abe disposed about the store much after the manner of Jones' cross-roads grocery at Gentryville. He then settled down as country storekeeper, but the success of his career was early jeopardized by the im- prudent Offutt, who was characterized contemptuously by one of the neighbors as a man who "talked too much with his mouth." Offutt bragged too loudly and fool- ishly of Abe's ability, not hesitating to say that "he knew more than any man in the whole United States," and moreover that he could beat any man in the country at "wrastlin'." This was naturally odious to the local heroes and it came to the ears of the "Clary's Grove Boys," a gang of young ruffians who delighted chiefly in drinking and fighting. This rough brotherhood de- scended boisterously on the town every week or so and perpetrated all sorts of bullying and "brutal horse play." Offutt's boast of Abe's prowess as a fighter was exactly the sort of thing the Clary's Grove gang de- lighted not to pass by and it provoked their challenge, much to Abe's disgust. Abe ignored the taunts and baiting of the gang as long as possible, but one day when he was showing a bolt of calico to some women folk at the counter, among them possibly Ann Rutledge herself, a group of young thugs headed by a huge bully called Jack Armstrong stampeded into the store. They raised such a disturb- ance upsetting articles about the store that Abe had to leave his customers and threaten to throw them out. This was exactly what they wanted and was greeted 78 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN with their hoots and howls as they urged Jack Arm- strong on. Chagrined at this commotion in the pres- ence of his customers, Lincoln said he " would not give them what they deserved before the ladies.' ' To this Jack replied he was "going to pull Abe's nose out of a book some day and rub it in the mud." As the ladies had now precipitately left the store, Abe swung himself over the counter upon the leading bully. Now Jack Armstrong had hitherto been un- licked and he therefore entertained a high opinion of himself, but he was an overheavy rowdy who spent his nights in late carousing and many of his days in drink. Against him came the railsplitter whose arms and shoulders were like steel from long swinging of ax and maul, and whose lungs and head were steady from sober living in the open forest air. The backwoods- man who could "fell trees like three men" and walk off single-handed with an entire log chicken house simply picked up Jack Armstrong and strangled him. At this all the other town rowdies rallied to their com- rade's aid and fell upon Lincoln with foul play, trip- ping him up and kicking him. Lincoln's easy-going temper now flared into rage. He put his back against the wall and faced his com- batants with the fury of such sledge-hammer blows as would fell a young ox. This was precisely the sort of thing the gang could understand and admire. They fell back in amazement and appreciation. In another moment the crisis was over, the general fight ended, and Lincoln had passed his initiation into the village brotherhood. He picked up Jack and shook his hand, and thereupon the others pressed forward to congratu- THE COUNTRY STOREKEEPER 79 late him and feel his muscle. The Clary's Grove gang regarded Lincoln as their crony from that day forward and declared that he was "the cleverest fellow that ever broke into the settlement." Although Abe was much averse to such brawls, in this instance he gained with a few blows what might otherwise have cost him years to acquire. For, while such men of character as Mr. Rutledge and School- master Graham were prompt to recognize Lincoln's true worth, nothing but an evidence of superior strength could win him control of the town roughs. It proved of political value to Lincoln later that he could win the confidence not only of steady-going farmers, prominent citizens and leading business men, but of the lowly rough element as well. Jack Arm- strong proved his friend for life and Lincoln never lacked a champion when Armstrong was about. Abe returned this friendship and as long as he lived in New Salem paid many a visit to Jack's cabin, which in spite of the fact that the village consisted of only fifteen or twenty cabins was referred to as "four miles out in the country." Jack's wife, Hannah, tells of his visits in her own words : "Abe would come out to our house, drink milk, eat mush, corn bread, butter, bring the children candy and rock the cradle while I got him something to eat. I fixed his pants and made his shirts. He has gone with us to father's; he would tell stories, joke people, girls and boys, at parties. He would nurse babies — do any- thing to accommodate anybody. No, I hadn't no books about my house to loan him. We didn't have time to think about books and papers, we had to work too 80 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN hard to make a living." The hold that Lincoln had upon the country families in whose hospitable cabins he lived thus intimately, was incalculable, but in the case of the Armstrongs this was later strengthened by a far greater bond. Twenty-six years later, when Lincoln was a successful practising attorney in Springfield, Illi- nois, he wrote the following letter to Hannah Arm- strong : "Springfield, 111., Sept., 1857. "Dear Mrs. Armstrong : "I have just heard of your deep affliction and the arrest of your son for murder. I can hardly believe that he can be capable of the crime alleged against him. It does not seem possible. I am anxious that he should be given a fair trial at any rate ; and gratitude for your long continued kindness to me in adverse circumstances prompts me to offer my humble services gratuitously in his behalf. It will afford me an opportunity to re- quite, in a small degree, the favors I received at your hand and that of your lamented husband, when your roof afforded me a grateful shelter, without price. "Yours truly, "A. Lincoln." At this trial Lincoln saved the life of Hannah's son with an almanac. A witness swore that he saw "Duff" Armstrong strike the actual blow that killed his op- ponent. On oath the witness stated that this blow was struck at about half -past nine at night and that he could see it plainly as "the moon was nearly full and as bright as day." THE COUNTRY STOREKEEPER 81 Thereupon Lincoln rose with the court almanac in hand and pointed out to the jury that the moon did not shine that night until nearly midnight. Through this clever turn, Jack Armstrong's ne'er-do-well son escaped the gallows and Lincoln's debt of gratitude was paid. Years were to pass, however, before Lincoln estab- lished himself as a lawyer. For the present he con- tinued storekeeping and found that it afforded him an opportunity for study. He kept some book continually at hand under the counter and customers were hardly out of the store before he had whipped it out and was bending over an open page. In addition to storekeep- ing and studying Abe found time to split enough rails for Offutt to fence in a thousand hogs and besides this was always ready to help in barn raisings and to chop a poor widow some winter fire wood. Such good turns soon made him well liked. Abe's ambition was growing with his popularity and he began to hope that he might some day be called to fill a public office, for he was now definitely determined to "fit himself for a profession." Speech-making Abe delighted in, but felt handicapped because he frequently became tangled up in his use of language, for, as he said himself, he "didn't know the first thing about grammar." The language Abe had heard spoken daily about him was the careless colloquial speech of unlet- tered countrymen and it was only through his applica- tion to books that he became conscious of a different mode of expression. One morning while he and Mr. Graham were at an early farmhouse breakfast together, Abe confided his 82 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN ambitions and difficulties to the sympathetic school- master, saying: "You know, I've got a good notion to study English grammar." "It's the best thing you can do, if you expect to go before the public in any capacity," Mr. Graham promptly advised, to which Abe replied, "Well, if I had a grammar I would begin right now." "I know where you can get one," Mr. Graham answered. "Over at Vaner's house, about six miles from here." Abe finished his bowl of bread and milk and then im- mediately rose from the table and strode out. He cov- ered the six miles there and back before Graham could realize that he was gone, and returning, he slapped the book down triumphantly before the schoolmaster, say- ing, "Now let's begin." Clearness of expression be- came a passion with him and he has said that when he had an idea of his own or after he had heard some one else explain something in obscure or confused terms he could not sleep, but would walk up and down half the night struggling to express it simply. "When I thought I had got it I would not be satisfied until I had repeated it over and over and put it into language plain enough, as I thought, for any boy I knew to com- prehend." He kept his Bible at hand and this was constantly his inspiration in figure of speech and sim- plicity of expression. Years later the very clarity of his speeches not only made a strong appeal to "the common people," but made these speeches classics. It was during these days of country storekeeping that Lincoln earned the nickname "Honest Abe," after- wards famous as a political slogan. It came about in THE COUNTRY STOREKEEPER 83 this way. Lincoln could never be comfortable for an instant if he found that he had unintentionally short- changed a customer. One afternoon he made a sale to a countrywoman and reckoned her bill as $2.20. She paid him and drove off. He added up the items again to check the amount and found that he had taken six cents too much. When he shut up shop that night, before stopping for supper he set off for the customer's house, some four miles out in the country, with the six cents in his pocket for her. On another day an old woman came in just at closing time and bought half a pound of tea. The tea was weighed out and taken and the weight left on the scales. ,The next morning on opening shop, Lincoln noticed the weight still on the scales and saw that he had used only four ounces by mistake. He promptly weighed out another four ounces, wrapped it up, shut up shop and took a long walk before breakfast to carry the old woman her little package of tea. These incidents seemed merely trifling to him but the nickname stuck and his reputation for thorough honesty spread and car- ried weight. During these country store days Lincoln made the lifelong friendship of a certain William G. Greene, known to Abe affectionately as "Billy/' a young man who after attending Illinois College was employed as clerk at Rutledge's mill. Billy Greene and Abe Lincoln got their meals together at the farmhouse of Billy's uncle, Mr. Bowling Greene, the village justice-of-the- peace. Mr. Greene's motherly wife was "Aunt Nancy" to both young men and in this home Lincoln found more comfort and companionship than in any other to 84 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN which his lot thus far had fallen. Billy Greene was the typical good-hearted gay young man of his day but he declares that he never saw his friend Lincoln smoke or chew, never heard him swear but once in his life, and never saw him take a drink of liquor but once when he immediately spat it out again. "The way he came to get that mouthful," Billy relates, "was this way. Like other young fellows I used to bet and gamble and Abe said to me one day, 'Billy, you ought to stop gambling.' I said, 'Well, Abe, I know I ought to, but I'm ninety cents behind with that fellow Estep and I can't quit till I win it back.' 'Look here,' says Abe, 'if I help you win that back will you give me your word not to gamble again ?' 'Give you my word,' I said. Then Abe said: 'Here are some hats on sale for seven dollars apiece. Now when Estep comes in you lead him on and bet him one of those hats I can lift a full forty gallon barrel of whiskey and take a drink out of the bunghole.' "Well, we fixed up the bunghole so it would be in the right place and when Estep came in I led him on to the bet. Then Abe squatted down and lifted that barrel up on his knee, filled his mouth at the bung and spit it out again. I won the hat and never gambled again." "All the fellows used to like to gather at Offutt's store and get Abe started at joking and debating," Billy testifies, and so we find that before Abe had been in New Salem more than a few months he had gained such popularity as had promptly been his before in Gentry- ville and up and down the Sangamon. "Honest Abe" was soon turned to as arbitrator in trade disputes, as THE COUNTRY STOREKEEPER 85 referee at running and "wrastling" matches, judge at local horse races, peacemaker in quarrels. One old woman said, "Everybody liked Abe, and trusted him too. He always did have the best heart and showed the most sense of anybody in our section." The rise of Lincoln's popularity was so rapid that although he only came to New Salem in August, 1831, by the time he had passed his twenty-third birthday he was "en- couraged by his popularity among the immediate neigh- bors" to announce himself candidate for the Illinois General Assembly in March, 1832. CHAPTER XII LEGISLATURE AND WAR The only procedure necessary to become a candidate for the Illinois State Legislature in those days was a man's statement of his stand on local questions. Of leading importance throughout the whole coun- try at that particular time was the opening up of vast new territory by canal routes, by dredging river beds and by extension of railroads. The dream of settlers about New Salem was to see their wilderness cut by a railroad, but the cost of this seemed pro- hibitive. In a handbill by which Lincoln placed his policy be- fore the public, the young candidate stated his argu- ments for deeming improvement of the Sangamon River for navigation a vital and more practicable method of developing that region. He based his con- clusions on sound reasoning grounded upon his own experience as boatman and farmer upon the Sangamon. His arguments as well as the modesty with which he stated them were well calculated to please the men who knew him in that section. "Finally," he concluded, "I believe the improvement of the Sangamon River to be vastly important and highly desirable to the people of the country; and, if elected, any measure in the legislature having this for 86 LEGISLATURE AND WAR 87 its object, which may appear judicious, will meet with my approbation and receive my support." His circular ended with the following statement which not only shows the dignity of expression attained by this self-taught backwoodsman, but acts as an index to his attitude and character : "Every man is said to have his peculiar ambition. Whether it is true or not, I can say, for one, that I have no other so great as that of being truly esteemed of my fellow-men by rendering myself worthy of their esteem. How far I shall succeed in gratifying this am- bition is yet to be developed. I am young and un- known to many of you. I was born, and have ever re- mained, in the most humble walks of life. I have no wealthy or popular relations or friends to recommend me. My case is thrown exclusively upon the independ- ent voters of the country; and, if elected, they will have conferred a favor upon me for which I shall be unremitting in my labors to compensate. But, if the good people in their wisdom shall see fit to keep me in the background, I have been too familiar with dis- appointments to be very much chagrined." Lincoln's campaign was interrupted by the alarm of war. One April morning there dashed on horseback through the village a messenger scattering circulars from the Governor of the State announcing that a band of hostile Indians under Chief Black Hawk was spread- ing terror among frontier settlers in Rock County and calling upon volunteers willing to rally to their aid to meet in Beardstown within a week. Excitement ran high, men gathered and formed a company in Sanga- mon County at once and Abe Lincoln was promptly 88 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN elected captain. This group joined other companies at Beardstown within a few days and some drill of recruits went forward. Lincoln could handle men but he had no reason to know military tactics, and he afterwards indulged in many a hearty laugh at his own expense, in telling of blunders that he made. On one occasion, so he relates, he was leading a squad of men across a field when he came to a gate. "I could not for the life of me remember the proper word for getting my company endzvise, so that it could get through the gate, so, as we came near the fence I shouted, 'This company is dismissed for two minutes when it will fall in again on the other side of the gate!'" Such setbacks, however, did not shake the respect of the men for their untrained captain. Had he been fresh from West Point's discipline he could not have won more loyalty among his followers than his own personality commanded. His intimacy with them, un- tainted by familiarity or condescension, won devotion that endured. In their enthusiasm for their captain his soldiers boasted of him to all comers, and one day backed him to wrestle against the vaunted "strong man," Thompson, of another regiment. Thompson and Lincoln clinched in a friendly bout, and it must be admitted that the brawny railsplitter who had thrown many a man fully expected to overpower this one. However, after struggling for some time with no advantage, he panted, "This is the strongest man I ever met." In another minute Lincoln, for the first time in his life, was thrown. At this his excited sol- LEGISLATURE AND WAR 89 diers rushed in, yelling "Foul play," to which Thomp- son's men shouted, "We'll see about that!" and both sides angrily began to strip off tunics and fall upon one another. To stop the fight Lincoln rose good-naturedly and said, "Hold on, boys, this fellow threw me fairly, and I think he could do it again. Let us give in that he beat me fairly." Such a spirit was new to many of the men he commanded and could not fail to make its impression. Another example of his spirit of justice and fair play occurred one day in the midst of the Black Hawk War when a miserable old Indian wandered forlornly into camp begging charity. An Indian was the very game the soldiers sought and their wrath and excite- ment boiled at sight of this one. They fell roughly upon the old man and jerked him along with shouts of "Hang him up!" "Take his scalp!" "Yes, get his scalp !" "He's what we're after, cut his throat." The poor old beggar pleaded in vain with them and waved a dirty bit of paper whimpering, "Me good Injun! Read white chief's talking paper!" This the mob derided with cries of "Spy! String him to a tree!" The commotion brought Lincoln out of his tent to say, "Here, here, boys, what's all this about?" "We've got a spy !" yelled the men, unruly now with lynch spirit, and they dragged the helpless and terrified old Indian rudely along as he tried to break away to plead with Lincoln. "Here, stand back," shouted Abe. "Let that Indian go!" 90 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN "We're going to hang him up!" yelled a lawless sol- dier. "We aren't afraid of him if you are !" "Who says I'm afraid?" demanded Lincoln, bel- ligerently rolling up his sleeves. The Sangamon boys knew the power of those arms too well to relish an en- counter and paused to answer : "Ah, now, Cap'n, that's not fair, we've got no show against you." "More show than this old Injun has against all of you!" retorted Lincoln. "Come on, you can take it out on me and I'll fight the lot, one after another, but you're not going to hurt that old man, Injun or no Injun. When a man comes to me for help he's going to get it if I have to lick all Sangamon County." The mob quieted down and let the old Indian go. He proved to be nothing more alarming than a friendly hanger-on from another gen- eral's division. He lived to be rallied good-naturedly by the very men who would have killed him. We have Lincoln's own word for it that there was a more gruesome side to the Black Hawk War than presented in these camp stories. He himself saw very little fighting, but remembered riding just at sunrise one morning upon a camp which Indians had surprised in the night, killing every man. Years after, when he was President, Lincoln said : "I can remember just how those men looked. The red light of the morning sun was streaming upon them as they lay, heads toward us, on the ground, and every man had a round red spot on the top of his head, about as big as a dollar, where the redskins had taken his scalp." The term for which the Sangamon volunteers LEGISLATURE AND WAR 91 had enlisted expired, but Black Hawk was still leaving a bloody trail behind him and the war went on. Many of the men at the end of their term went home to fulfill family and farm duties. Young Lincoln was single and foot free, he was out of work and as he once told Mr. Herndon, "I could do nothing better than enlist again." This time he joined the service as a simple private, glad to be relieved of a captaincy he was ill equipped to fill. Although Lincoln himself was untrained as an officer, this war, small though it was, called forth such men as Zachary Taylor, then a Colonel in the regular army in command of Fort Crawford; Jefferson Davis, later his son-in-law; Albert Sidney Johnston, and Robert Anderson, later to be in com- mand of Fort Sumter. Thus fighting in one cause were men destined later to play distinguished parts on conflicting sides. The war finally ended in the capture of Chief Black Hawk alive. He and that grand old chief, Tecumseh, had fought to hold their lands which had been taken over by the Government. Black Hawk was taken East and shown several of the big cities, arriving finally in Washington where he was intro- duced to the President and entertained at the White House. Here he was shown all the Government build- ings and the Government explained to him. Upon his oath of loyalty to this government he was released and sent home, where he faithfully kept his word to main- tain peace between his tribe and the United States until he died, an old and honored man. Lincoln had joined the troops at Beardstown, Illi- nois, on the twenty-second of April. It was June 16th when his battalion was disbanded at Whitewater, Wis- 92 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN consin. Lincoln and his fellows were in high spirits, frolicking like boys let out of school at the prospect of returning home. But on the night before they started "some patriot overanxious to return home" stole the horses belonging to Lincoln and his messmate Harrison, who had to set out on foot next morning to walk from Wisconsin to Illinois. There was high good humor and jesting along the way among the party of returning "veterans" who took turn and turn about on the horses available, while many men were obliged to walk and lead their horses which were lame or sore with saddle galls. Lincoln's jokes and repartee buoyed up the spirits and humor of all, even on days when the lonely country through which they passed scarcely af- forded one good meal in a whole day's tramp. What friendships they struck up, what tales they told, what jokes they played, what stories of one another's lives they learned, what ambitions for the future they must have confided in that light-hearted hike which the re- turning Sangamon boys made over those long miles home! Lincoln and Harrison, without horses, bought a canoe at Peoria and in this they paddled to Pekin. Harrison's own account of this jaunt reads : "The river, being very low, was without current, so that we had to pull hard to make half the speed of legs on land; in fact, we let her float all night, and on the next morning always found the objects still visible that were beside us the previous evening. The water was remarkably clear, for this river, of plants, and the fish appeared to be sporting with us as we moved over or near them. On the next day after we left Pekin we LEGISLATURE AND WAR 93 overhauled a raft of saw-logs, with two men afloat on it to urge it on with poles and to guide it in the channel. We immediately pulled up to them and went on the raft where we were made welcome by various demon- strations, especially by an invitation to a feast of fish, cornbread, eggs, butter and coffee just prepared for our benefit. Of these good things we ate almost im- moderately, for it was the only warm meal we had made for several days. While preparing it, and after dinner, Lincoln entertained them, and they entertained us for a couple of hours very amusingly." At Pekin they sold the canoe and struck off again on foot for New Salem with high resolutions for future endeavor now that war duty left them free to cultivate their ambitions. Years later, when a member of Congress, Lincoln made a droll campaign speech after the Mexican War, poking fun ironically at his own military career in satire of the exaggerated accounts of heroism claimed for Gen. Lewis Cass, then running against Gen. Zachary Taylor for the Presidency in the post-war en- thusiasm for military men. "By the way, Mr. Speaker," he said, "did you know that I am a military hero? Yes, sir, in the days of the Black Hawk War I fought, bled, and came away. Speaking of General Cass's career reminds me of my own. I was not at Stillman's defeat, but I was about as near it as Cass was to Hull's surrender; and, like him, I saw the place very soon afterwards. It is quite certain I did not 'break my sword/ for I had none to break, but I bent my musket pretty badly on one occa- sion. If Cass broke his sword, the idea is he broke 94 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN it in desperation. I bent my musket by accident. If General Cass went in advance of me in picking whortle- berries, I guess I surpassed him in charges upon the wild onions. If he saw any live, fighting Indians it was more than I did, but I had a good many bloody struggles with mosquitoes, and, although I never fainted from loss of blood, I can truly say I was often very hungry. "Mr. Speaker, if I should ever conclude to doff what- ever our Democratic friends may suppose there is of black-cockade Federalism about me and thereupon they shall take me up as their candidate for the Presidency, I protest they shall not make fun of me as they have of General Cass, by attempting to write me into a mili- tary hero." This was Lincoln's opinion of his service in the Black Hawk War from which he was mustered out in June, to reach New Salem about the first of August with scarcely ten days in which to push his candidacy as legislator. He was defeated. Examination of the votes shows that in spite of the fact that he had been away from home; that he was known personally in only the local neighborhood and that there was keen competition for the office, he secured nearly one-third of the total vote of Sangamon County. The New Salem section cast 277 votes for him and only three against him. This was the only time in his life that Lincoln was defeated in a direct vote of the people. CHAPTER XIII STUDYING LAW The period following his defeat at this election is told of by Lincoln himself in the autobiography which he put in the third person : "He was now without means and out of business but anxious to remain with his friends who had treated him with so much generosity, especially as he had no- where else to go. He studied what he should do; thought of learning the blacksmith trade; thought of trying to study law, rather thought he could not suc- ceed at that without a better education/ ' The unstable Offutt had ignominiously failed in busi- ness, vanished from Sangamon and left his creditors stranded. The country store was closed and once more Lincoln fell back upon odd jobs and railsplitting to make a hand-to-mouth living. Then one day came the doubtful opportunity of owning the store himself. A certain Reuben Radford ventured to stock up the abandoned store and open for trade. He had been warned that our old friends, the "Clary's Grove Boys," made a practice of baiting newcomers and might be expected to perpetrate some boisterous horseplay to the detriment of the new enterprise. Radford thought he could prevent their growing boisterous to any danger- ous extent by simply limiting them to two moderate drinks apiece when they called. Business did not flour- 95 96 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN ish and Radford became downhearted. Then one night he paid a visit three miles "out in the country" and left his young brother alone in charge of the store. This was the very night the rowdies chose to descend upon the settlement and inspect the new shop. They stampeded noisily into it and ordered drinks. The young brother scrupulously stuck to the "two drinks only" rule and refused to hand out more. This limit proved something the young roughs could not under- stand and moreover refused to tolerate. "If you won't hand them out, we'll treat ourselves to all the drink you've got!" they threatened. Young Radford was more steadfast than diplomatic. He had been told to stop at two drinks apiece and stop then he w r ould though the heavens fell. It was not, however, the heavens that fell, but the whiskey bottles them- selves from shelves along the walls. The roisterers drew their guns and popped every bottle in sight, then shot holes in the barrels of liquor, molasses and oil around the store. The more they smashed and the more drink they stole the more devastation they wrought, until a cyclone would have proved a gentler customer. This rioting and drinking continued until nearly dawn. The ruffians then galloped home singing and yelling and shouting in drunken glee, lashing their horses to a pounding run along the country roads. Their commotion waked Radford who sprang up, rec- ognized the gang, and with a presentiment of danger to the store, mounted a horse and galloped madly to town. Young Bill Greene, Lincoln's crony, was jogging along on horseback to the mill in the quiet light of STUDYING LAW 97 early morning when he saw Radford dash wildly by on lathered horse. Billy turned and whipped up after him. Both men swung out of their saddles and viewed the wreckage from the store doorway. The enterprise had never paid and now it seemed demolished. In dis- gust Radford declared : "I'd sell the whole shebang for the first offer I got, don't care what it is I" "Give you $400 for the lot," ventured Billy. "The place is yours !" "I haven't the cash," Greene said. "Never mind the money. Give me your note and the deal is closed," declared the desperate Radford. The deal was accordingly closed, and Radford rode away. In a few minutes Billy cooled off enough to feel that he was pretty badly stuck. At that moment Lincoln appeared at the back door of the town "hotel" opposite and began washing up at the tin basin, water bucket and roller towel on the "hotel's" dingy back porch. Billy promptly took his troubles to his friend. "Well, hold your horses, Bill," Abe said; "let me get a bite to eat and then we'll go over and see what's left for you." After breakfast Abe and Billy went across to the store and calculated its contents as worth perhaps $750. At this juncture a certain William Berry came up and peered in the door. "What's going on, boys?" he asked, and when told, said, "Well, Abe, both you and I are out of work now, how about it if we run this concern ourselves?" "I haven't any capital," said Abe. "I haven't either," said Billy gloomily. "Look here," said Berry. "I've got $250 and a good 98 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN horse with a saddle and bridle. Billy, will you swap that, with the store receipts for the first day, for this concern and call it square?" "Will I !" said Billy, who wished to be rid of his bargain as soon as possible. The exchange was made and in another hour the firm of Berry and Lincoln was established and open for business. Abe had reason to believe that the Clary's Grove boys would not molest him. The new firm took in fifteen dollars and a Spanish shilling that first day and Billy went home elated with the possession of two hundred and sixty- five dollars, twelve and a half cents, besides a good horse, saddle and bridle, feeling that he had the best of the deal. Billy Greene, as it proved, did have the best of the deal. The store never paid, due perhaps to the fact that one partner spent too much time lying under a tree in the yard with his legs cocked high on the trunk, his eyes continually on some book, while the other partner within the store steadily drank from the liquor barrel. By spring, 1833, after being in business only a few months, the partners thought best to accept an offer to sell out to a couple of unreliable brothers named Trent. This pair had no intention of paying and merely gave their notes and shortly disappeared. Berry soon drank himself to death and Lincoln was left with the store debts. Considering the circumstances, and the fact that most settlers in those days considered that such a failure would "excuse the debts," Lincoln might have abandoned the enterprise and left his liabilities unpaid. But "Honest Abe," who would walk miles to return six cents or four ounces of tea, was not the man to STUDYING LAW 99 crawl out from under such obligations as the store now imposed, overwhelming though they were. He promised his creditors that he would pay and pay he did to the last cent though it took him years of hard work and privation to accomplish it. Indeed, the claims against him seemed so enormous that his friends jestingly referred to them as "The National Debt." These were the days when Lincoln had cause to be profoundly grateful to Jack and Hannah Armstrong, whose hospitable cabin "afforded a grateful shelter without money and without price." Kind "Aunt Nancy" Greene always made him welcome and com- fortable and the friendship of her husband, Bowling Greene, grew during this period until it was to prove the one help and comfort Lincoln found in a desperate crisis through which he was to pass. At least one asset remained to Lincoln from the days of the disastrous store enterprise. This was an old barrel which fell to his lot by the most haphazard chance and was destined to influence him strongly in the career yet before him. He had bought this relic from a man who was going West in a wagon with his family and furniture. Lincoln didn't want the barrel, but out of the kindness of his heart he bought it for half a dollar. Some time later he happened to look into it and found discarded at the bottom a tattered, dog- eared but complete edition of Blackstone's "Com- mentaries." He began to read this great authority during his spare time, which was abundant in summer when his customers were busy with their crops. He became fascinated by them and read until he had de- voured them. 100 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN From that time forward Lincoln definitely devoted himself to law. He had found himself. Whenever Lincoln hit upon a subject he wished to master he forthwith hunted up some one who under- stood it and sought his aid. In this case he went to Major John Todd Stuart, an able lawyer who proved ever ready to encourage and help him. From this slight beginning their acquaintance was afterwards to ripen into the law partnership of Stuart & Lincoln, and the Major's name was to bear later significance in his junior partner's happiness and fortunes. Major Stuart lent Lincoln some necessary books and saw to it that he secured others. One of these was a book of legal forms and with this Lincoln was soon able to write out most of the deeds and contracts current among his neighbors. The faithful Bowling Greene, then village justice, made every opportunity for Lincoln to gain experience in helping him in the various duties of his office. Neighbors whose custom it was to seek the good- hearted Abe's help in other things, now went to him for simple legal matters. Dan Burner, a boy who clerked for the unlucky firm of Berry & Lincoln gives an example of such services as follows : "My father sold out to another man once and they needed a deed drawn up. Of course I knew how handy Lincoln was that way, so I said let's get him to do it. We found him sitting on a stump and I told him what we wanted. 'All right/ he said, 'if you bring me a pen and ink and a piece of paper, I will write it here/ I brought them, and picking up a shingle and putting it STUDYING LAW 101 on his knee for a desk, he wrote out the deed then and there. ,, Lincoln welcomed these petty cases as valuable ex- perience and made no charge for them. After the store, as he says "winked out," he made no further at- tempt at business but contented himself with earning just enough to keep himself while he devoted all the time possible to the study of law. When Thomas Lin- coln put an ax into the hands of his seven-year-old son he gave him the means of earning many a farm house meal and night's sleep in country feather beds, while using spare time for the despised "book-learning/ ' One day Russel Godby, a farmer who hired Abe on his farm during this time, found Lincoln at noon sit- ting barefoot on top of the generous woodpile he had just chopped, completely absorbed in a book. This was such an odd thing for a "hired man" to be doing that Mr. Godby called out : "Hey, Abe, what you doing up there?" "I'm studying." "Studying, for the land's sakes !" said the astonished farmer. "What you studying ?" "I'm studying law," Lincoln answered proudly. "I stood a while looking at him sitting there," said the old farmer, shaking his head, and added, "That was really a little too much for me." So the time passed for Lincoln in close application to study, broken only, by such desultory woodchopping as would earn him board and a few clothes. And then in the fall of 1833 a surprise and opportunity lay in store for him. 102 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN One autumn day Pollard Simmons, a New Salem neighbor, found Abe and said, "I've just come from Springfield, and John Calhoun, the county surveyor over there, sent word by me that he wants you to serve as deputy surveyor for him." "Wants me as deputy surveyor!" Abe exclaimed, astonished. "Why, I don't know how to survey \" "Well, that's what he said, anyway," Simmons in- sisted. "He said he'd heard about you and your way of studying and how the folks call you Honest Abe, and he thought you were the very man for this section. He says Sangamon County is so large and so many people seem to be immigrating here now, that he needs deputies." "Well, there's something funny about it," Abe per- sisted. "He's a Jackson man and I'm for Clay. What makes a Democrat offer me an office? Before I take that appointment I'm going over to Springfield and see about it." Lincoln promptly borrowed a horse from Bowling Greene and jogged the twenty miles to Springfield to see Calhoun. "I don't want an appointment that ties me up to any political obligation," he said frankly. Calhoun assured him that this was not the case. "I need a reliable deputy," said the surveyor, "and I don't care anything about his politics." "I don't know the first thing about surveying," said Lincoln. "Nobody else out your way does either," Calhoun said, "and from what I hear you'll learn all you need STUDYING LAW 103 soon enough. What I need is a reliable and intelligent man and they tell me you are that. I'll give you time enough to study the subject first." Satisfied with this proposition, Lincoln accepted it, and then with the same promptness that had sent him immediately after the book on English grammar, he bought Flint and Gibson's treatise on surveying before he left Spring- field and rode home reading it with the reins dangling loose on the horse's neck. On reaching New Salem he went directly to his old friend, Mentor Graham, and sought his aid. Mr. Graham generously gave it, at no little sacrifice of time, and Lincoln forthwith plunged into a "cram" that alarmed his friends. He had the book open before breakfast and bent over it all day, snatching only ir- regular meals with the volume propped up before him. When night fell Lincoln's work only began. The long evenings and most of the night found him still at it. Oil he could not afford, but the village cooper said, "Abe, you can sit up all night in my shop and burn shavings to read by," and this he did until "Aunt Nancy" interfered and insisted on his spending nights at her comfortable home. Bowling Greene, anxious at sight of Lincoln's haggard face and sunken eyes, de- clared, "Abe, you've got to let up on this or you'll kill yourself." "Yes," put in Billy Greene, "you look like a scarecrow. Now, take a rest or you'll be down sick in bed." Nevertheless, Lincoln kept on until he had a working knowledge of the subject. Without waiting to rest, he again mounted Mr. Greene's horse and pre- sented himself before Calhoun, so soon after his first visit that the surveyor asked what he wanted. 104 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN "I know how to survey now," Lincoln reported. "Not already?" "Yes, sir." Calhoun scrutinized the gaunt figure and drawn face of the earnest man before him and felt convinced that he had made no mistake in his choice of deputy. Lincoln now began his duties and it was soon ob- served that his surveys could be depended upon as accurate. He was frequently called upon to settle line disputes and as his reputation as "Honest Abe" spread, his decisions were accepted as final. Lincoln was now earning three dollars a day, more than he had ever made in his life before. Good board and lodging only cost a dollar a week, but Lincoln found it hard nevertheless to meet his obligations. His father repeatedly appealed to him to help with family expenses and the store debts continued to press heavily upon him. His creditors all proved lenient enough except one sharp man by the name of Van Bur en. When the note he held fell due, Van Buren brought suit. Lincoln was nearly penniless at the time. His surveying trips took him on long circuits which kept him away from New Salem for weeks at a time and forced him to invest in a good horse and saddle as well as in a sur- veying outfit. He could not meet the note and the un- scrupulous Van Buren levied upon the very horse, saddle, bridle and instruments that were Lincoln's sole stock in trade. It was a cruel crisis for the young sur- veyor. But the very extremity of the situation brought a remedy. It roused the ire of "Uncle Jimmy" Short, a prosperous farmer and firm friend of Lincoln's. STUDYING LAW 105 Without a word of his plans, Uncle Jimmy went to the sale and bought the horse, harness and instruments him- self and took grim pleasure in handing them over to the surprised Lincoln before Van Buren's very eyes. Among other places that he surveyed in Sangamon, Lincoln laid out the town of Petersburg where a curious instance of his kindness of heart arose to cause diffi- culties later. Twenty or thirty years afterwards some irregularity was found in property boundaries on the outskirts of the town, but reference to the official map did not clear this up. A committee of Petersburg citi- zens went to Springfield to consult the original surveyor but Lincoln could not remember anything to help them out and only referred them to the record. The case then went to court, but before it came to trial an old man named McGuire returned to town from an out- lying farm where he had been employed all summer, and hearing a discussion of the subject, he said : "Why, I can tell you all about that. I helped carry the chain when Abe Lincoln laid out this town. Over there where they are quarreling about the lines, when he was locating the street, he straightened up from his instrument and said : 'If" I run that street straight through, it will cut three or four feet off So-and-so's house. It's all he's got in the world and he could never get another. I reckon it won't hurt anything out here if I skew the line a little and miss him.' " The line had been "skewed" ! The kind of man who could skew a line to save a house was bound to acquire staunch friends, and as he grew older Lincoln found that he had attained a strong hold upon the community in which he lived. In another 106 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN way he had grown close to the neighborhood : through sharing many an intimate affair as village postmaster. This office he had held during the existence of the firm of Berry & Lincoln. The actual duty of postmaster took little time, for although mail was expected once or twice a week, sometimes two or three weeks slid by with none. The mail, carried from city to city by four-horse stage coaches, was sent to small towns like New Salem and Gentryville by mail carriers on horse- back, and the arrival of the mail rider in New Salem was attended, as at Jones' store in Gentryville, by a gathering of interested and expectant citizens. Here Lincoln again found a newspaper available, and here he officiated at distributing mail, very often being asked to read aloud letters and write the answers for country people who could neither read nor write and were "glad to get Abe to do it." While acting as postmaster, Lincoln came into con- tact with one who made a lasting impression on his life. The dainty Ann Rutledge regularly appeared to ask diffidently, "Any mail for me ?" and as regularly turned away with the shadow of disappointment in her eyes. John McNeil, her lover, who had left New Salem, parting from her with vows of faithfulness, wrote no word to relieve the hurt in her heart. Lincoln, watching her brave bearing in the face of such chagrin, was torn between desire for a letter to hand her and a rising hope that in time he himself might supplant that other lover. There were recreations for Lincoln even in these hard days, and one in which he took especial delight STUDYING LAW 107 was a debating society, with James Rutledge, Ann's father, for its president. This club held regular meet- ings and Abe surprised all members with the force, clarity and sound reasoning of his speeches. In fact Mr. Rutledge said to his wife after one meeting at which some had smiled at Lincoln's uncouth figure and awkward gestures: "Let me tell you, Mother, that young man has more in his head than mere fun and quick wit, and the day is coming when he will outstrip those who laugh at him now. He is already a fine speaker, and he only needs a little more culture to help him to make a name for himself, which, mark my words, he is bound to do." This opinion was gaining such headway in the com- munity that two years after his first defeat at election he was urged to run again as candidate for the State Legislature. During this campaign Lincoln had dinner at harvest time at the home of Mr. Rowan Herndon. There were about thirty harvest hands at work in the field and after dinner Mr. Herndon introduced Lincoln to them. The men jestingly said that they would vote for no man who could not take a hand in the grain. "Well, boys!" said Lincoln, "if that is all you want, I am sure of your votes," and seizing a cradle he swung around the field ahead of them all. During this campaign Lincoln devoted himself to advancing his cause and stumped the county thor- oughly. To listeners who have heard present-day political speeches by radio, it will come as a surprise that any campaign speech could be so brief as this of Lincoln's. Dressed in straw hat, bob-tailed, claw- 108 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN hammer coat of homespun, linen pantaloons and "pot- metal" boots, he mounted a village platform and made this terse address: "Fellow citizens : I presume you all know who I am. I am humble Abraham Lincoln. I have been solicited by many friends to become a candidate for the Legis- lature. My politics are 'short and sweet' like the old woman's dance. I am in favor of a national bank. I am in favor of the internal improvement system, and a high protective tariff. These are my sentiments and political principles. If elected, I shall be thankful; if not, it will be all the same." This time he was elected. CHAPTER XIV ANN RUTLEDGE Lincoln had a new and strong incentive for the ambition which urged him on to Legislature this term. Ann Rutledge had entered his life and he looked for- ward as never before toward hopes and plans for the future. Hitherto he had plodded doggedly ahead, spurred on perhaps by the spirit of his mother within him by which he vaguely sensed the fact that he was designed for something other than railsplitting, grubbing roots and shucking corn. Behind him was a ne'er-do-well family and with him was always poverty. In striving to forge ahead he had responded thus far only to the spirit within him. Now for the first time a powerful outside force urged him on. A sense of power rose with the determination to make the future yield prospects worthy of life with Ann. Women were always to play a vital part in Lincoln's progress: the small flame of genius received from Nancy was fed by the brisk Sally, fanned to flame by Ann Rutledge, and later kept burning steadily by still another woman. At this period he was conscious only of the warmth of Ann's own influence. His mother, passing from his life so long ago, was now only a shadowy figure of memory. His sister companion of those days had gone. The robust Sally 109 110 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN and her buxom backwoods daughters, the kindly- Mrs. Crawford, motherly Aunt Nancy and hospitable Hannah Armstrong were all women more or less alike in his mind as dispensers of cheer and comfort. But in Ann he found for the first time an intimate personal insight, understanding, and stimulus. He had never before known any one like her nor any interest like hers. To her a wholly untouched side of his nature responded, upon her he could lavish the whole affection of his pure and generous nature in the tumult of first love. His feeling, unsquandered in any former puppy love, reached the intensity of its fullest strength for her. This courtship, which Lincoln had long craved, had been sadly delayed by Ann's loyalty to the recalci- trant McNeil, from whom no letter ever came to ex- plain to her the bitterness of his disappearance. This man had appeared in New Salem, giving his name as John McNeil. He afterwards confided honestly enough to the Rutledges that his true name was McNamar. His father, who had been wealthy, suddenly failed, a misfortune which his son took as such disgrace that he ran away from home and came west under another name to try to rebuild the family fortune and restore his father's standing. This he had no ability to accom- plish but he did endeavor to pay off his father's debts and plan to bring his family from New York to Illi- nois. However mistaken the young man may have been, his intentions appear to have been thoroughly honorable. Indeed he seems to have been marked as an honorable but thoroughly mistaken person through- out all the life we know of him. Polished and debonair, he became New Salem's town dandy, and thus distin- ANN RUTLEDGE 111 guished from the unassuming village boys, was natu- rally calculated to attract the girlish attentions of the flower-like Miss Rutledge. They were engaged when she was only seventeen and had been engaged a year when Lincoln's flat boat stranded on the Rutledge dam. McNamar did business as a merchant in partnership with a middle-aged man, Mr. Sam Hill. This partner- ship came to an abrupt end and John McNamar left town in 1832. The reason for his departure fell ac- cidentally into Lincoln's hands through a curious inci- dent and proved less trifling than it seemed. Country people who could not read or write often came to Lin- coln with requests that he read this or write that for them, and it chanced that some one of them picked up a letter found lying in the road one day and as a matter of course brought it to Lincoln to see what it was. Lincoln opened this and found a sheaf of invoices showing that in closing out the partnership of Hill & McNeil, Hill had paid McNeil liberally for his share in the concern. Attached was a letter to McNeil from Hill consisting of the bitterest sort of personal attack upon him for winning Miss Rutledge, an honor Hill himself had aspired to, though he was twice Ann's age. This letter demanded furiously that the partnership be dissolved and it was evidently upon the proceeds of his share that McNeil had gone back to New York and his parents, losing the letter on his departure. There was something so unreasonable and ridiculous in Hill's stand that it appealed to Lincoln's lively humor. He returned letter and invoices to Hill but could not re- press a hearty laugh at him. Hill was a choleric man 112 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN and when he realized that Lincoln had read this letter of highly personal nature his inflammable temper blazed up. He lost entire control of himself, snatched the manuscript from Lincoln's hands, tossed it into the fire and hurled startling invectives at the astonished Lin- coln. But the scene did not end then. In 1846, four- teen years later, a story was used against Lincoln in his Congressional Campaign to the effect that he had written "an infidel attack upon the Bible and Christian religion' ' which had been burned. This unreasonable and monstrous story was based on the slim fact that a manuscript had been burned by Hill, and Hill in re- venge let the story gain currency. By that time Hill, McNamar and Lincoln were all married and Lincoln was too proud and honorable to explain the situation at the expense of embarrassing their wives. Thus McNeil's influence touched Lincoln's life in more ways than one. McNeil, gone from New Salem though not from Ann's memory, blocked Lincoln for three years in at- taining his heart's desire. For a time letters came to Ann from New York telling of McNeil's father's ill- ness, then of the old man's death, letters promising to return, letters holding her to the engagement. Then they came no more. For years she lived under the strain and embarrassment of wounded affection and of continually expecting some explanation and receiving none. She received not even the satisfaction of release from the engagement which would leave her free to enjoy the love of another man : a man of far different caliber, — faithful and straightforward, a man whose worth other men, among them her own father and ANN RUTLEDGE 113 brothers, were quick to acclaim. In vain her family urged her to abandon the neglectful McNeil and re- joice in winning such a man as Lincoln. Ann was a loyal little soul. She had grown to value Lincoln's esteem far more than McNeil's, but could not believe that McNeil had simply vanished unexplained. He must be sick, he /night be dead, she defended him. She could not feel free to plight herself to another man without the certainty of an honorable release from the first. He might come back, she argued. After a while it became clear to the whole village that he would not come back and Ann suffered all the embarrassment and pain of a jilted girl. It was a searing experience for any girl and Ann suffered all the more sharply from the keen sensitiveness of her youthful nineteen years. From this pain and bewilderment she was glad to turn to the sure refuge of Lincoln's steadfast love. Her experience made her all the more tenderly appre- ciative of his true worth and she threw herself whole- heartedly into a deeper, riper love for him than McNeil could ever have drawn forth. Her fervent love for Lincoln was only equaled by his historic love for her. Lincoln's opportunity to win Ann Rutledge had de- veloped from closer contact than that casually afforded at Post Office and Debating Club. For years he had "boarded round" in the neighborhood, getting a bed and meals where he might. At the Greenes' home and Jack Armstrong's cabin he had always a welcome, but for the most part he earned a night's lodging here and there or slept in some loft or under the store counter. While surveying he was engaged in laying out the growing town of New Salem and boarded with James 114 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN Cameron, a partner of Mr. Rutledge's whom he helped at times in rebuilding the mill and dam on the Sanga- mon. From Cameron's it was a natural sequence to the Rutledges' own home and here he lived for some time as a boarder, though welcomed as one of the family. Lincoln shared a bed with Ann's eldest brother and such was their merry fellowship that many a bedtime romp occurred, and on one occasion the bed cord was broken in the scuffle, and when Ann, who was a house- wifely girl, made up the beds next morning, Lincoln insisted on helping mend the wreckage and quite a frolic ensued. Such was the congenial atmosphere of the Rutledge home. After "boarding round" it must have seemed home indeed to Lincoln, who had grown up in the companionship of a big family, — himself, Sarah and Dennis as well as John, Sarah Johnston and "Tilda." There were nine children in the Rutledge family and Ann was third. A picture of the background of Lincoln's and Ann's lives can be gained in no more vivid way than through introduction to this large and pleasant family. Mr. and Mrs. Rutledge were Old School Presbyterians from South Carolina, and their home was one of strict piety. They had four sons and five daughters who ranged in ages (in 1834) from Jean, who was twenty-six, a year older than Lincoln, down to little five-year-old Sarah. As there were only two or three years between each of their ages in turn, they were companionable each to the other all the way down the ladder. The Rutledge family Bible records their dignified and Scottish names as : Jean Officer, ANN RUTLEDGE 115 John Miller, Anna Mayes, David Hamilton, Robert Brannon, Nancy Cameron, Margaret Armstrong, Wil- liam Blackburn, Mary Anderson, and Sarah F. Jean duly recorded in the fat Bible as "converted at Campmeeting in Sangamon'' married young and raised another nine children of her own. John, who served in the Black Hawk War, is re- corded in the same volume as "converted on the road home from Round Prairie." He was not wholly solemn, however, for it was he who slept with Lincoln and boisterously romped with him at bedtime. Next to him came Ann, who, so the family record runs, "never made any profession of religion but" (it adds hastily) "she was a devoted worker in Church and Sunday School and was regarded as naturally of Christian character." We may rest assured of this, for as Jean soon left home for a family of her own Ann became the eldest sister at the head of seven younger brothers and sisters. To those who know from family experience what an older sister can mean, no further explanation is needed of Ann's character! (Others perhaps would not quite understand it.) David, the brother next to her, and Ann's favorite, served also in the Black Hawk War and afterwards studied law and practiced in Petersburg. He was a strict Presbyterian of most upright principles and "would not take a case unless satisfied he had the right side." It was David and his father who particularly urged Ann to accept Lincoln, in the days when McNeil was distressingly upon her mind. His sister Nancy long afterwards found tucked away in the family Bible a letter from David to "My dear Sister Annie" saying 116 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN that he had heard in a letter from home that she was thinking of joining him at school (the same school, by the way, where Billy Greene had gone) in Jacksonville and urging her "to do so without further delay and not neglect the fleeting moments." It was dated at the time of her engagement to Lincoln. No doubt Lin- coln's studious habits had spurred her own ambition to keep pace with him. Robert was twelve years old when Ann's engage- ment to McNeil began. He it was who wrote an ac- count of Lincoln's life in the Rutledge household at the request of Mr. Herndon, from which details are here taken. "Ann," he says, "went to school to Mr. Graham who was successful and popular as a teacher. My sister," he goes on to say, "was esteemed the brightest mind of the family, was studious and devoted to her duties whatever their character, and had a remarkably amiable and lovable disposition. She had light hair and blue eyes." Her brother continues : "Mr. Lincoln studied Kirk- ham's grammar, and the copy which he delighted to peruse is now in my possession. He also studied natu- ral philosophy, astronomy and chemistry. He had no regular teacher, but perhaps received more assistance from Mr. Graham than any other person." Robert Rutledge adds two pictures of Lincoln by saying : "In illustration of his goodness and nobleness of heart, the following incident is related. Al Trent, a barefoot boy, was engaged one cold winter's day in chopping a pile of logs from an old house or stable which had been pulled down. The wood was dry and ANN RUTLEDGE 117 hard and the boy hard at work when Lincoln came by and asked what he got for the job and what he would do with the money. Al said, 'A dollar/ and, pointing to his naked feet, said, 'A pair of shoes/ Abe told him to go and get warm and he would chop a while for him. Lincoln finished the work, threw down the ax and told him to go and buy the shoes." Robert Rutledge's manuscript continues : "In the early times of which we write, an appeal to physical strength was often made to settle controversies. To illustrate this feature of the society in which Mr. Lincoln was mingling it may be well to relate an inci- dent. His neighbors, Henry Clark and Ben Wilcox, had had a law suit. The defeated declared that although he was beaten in the suit he could whip his opponent. This was a formal challenge and was at once carried to the ears of the victor, Wilcox, and as promptly accepted. Mr. Lincoln acted as second for Clark and John Brewer for Wilcox. "The parties met, stripped themselves all but their breeches and Mr. Lincoln's principal was beautifully whipped. These combats were conducted with as much ceremony as ever graced the dueling ground. After the conflict, the seconds conducted their respective principals to the river, washed off the blood and assisted them to dress. During this performance John Brewer said: " 'Well, Abe, my man has whipped yours and I can whip you.' Now this challenge came from a man who was very small in size. Mr. Lincoln agreed to fight provided he would 'chalk out his size on Mr. Lincoln's person and any blow struck outside of that 118 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN mark would be counted foul/ After this rally there was the best possible humor, and all parties were as orderly as if they had been engaged in the most harm- less amusement or the best warranted exercise. "In all matters of dispute about horse-racing or any of the popular pastimes of that day, Mr. Lincoln's judgment was final to all that region as people relied implicitly upon his honesty, integrity and impartiality." So much for the personal reminiscences of Robert Rutledge. In 1899 ms sister Nancy told, in a newspaper inter- view with the special correspondent of the Inter-Ocean, Fairfield, Iowa: "I was only a child when Mr. Lincoln boarded at our house, and yet I remember just how he looked and talked as if it were only last year. Homely? Yes, I suppose he was, but I never thought of that then. I remember his tall, lank, ungainly figure and his big ears and mouth, but when he talked one never thought of that. He was good-natured and full of life and fun and everybody loved him so much that they never thought of his looks. I can see him now, just as he looked sitting by the big old-fashioned fireplace, ab- sorbed in a book or chatting merrily with Annie, or one of my brothers. He always came and went just as one of the family. I have the very book that he and Annie used to sing songs and hymns from together. "Most of our neighbors called him 'Abe,' but we did not. Father and mother always insisted that we must not address any one outside our own family so familiarly. "Sister Annie," Nancy goes on, "was small with ANN RUTLEDGE 119 dark blue eyes, light brown hair and a very fair com- plexion. Every one said she was very pretty. She was the second girl in our family and very housewifely and domestic. I have seen Mr. Lincoln help her about her homely household tasks. He went about it awk- wardly, but always jokingly and with a will. "You have doubtless heard of the grammar that Mr. Lincoln heard of and walked six miles to buy. I studied that very grammar afterwards, when I went to school. Mr. Lincoln and Annie studied it together and he gave it to her. It was an old Kirkham, the hardest grammar, I think, anybody ever studied. I always kept it and it was in my possession until my brother, Captain Robert Rutledge, went to Springfield to assist in Mr. Lincoln's burial. He wrote to me for it as they were collecting Lincoln relics for the oc- casion. My brother's family has it now. Many a time have I seen Mr. Lincoln, apparently engrossed in study, pick up my youngest brother, tuck him under one long arm and with the book in the other hand plod along unconcernedly repeating rules and Robert yelling and kicking vigorously. After a while Mr. Lincoln would pretend that he had just discovered that he had a boy under his arm, walking off with him. Every child in New Salem loved him and enjoyed his quaint jokes and pranks as thoroughly as he himself used to. "He used to have Billy Greene hold the grammar of an evening while he recited rules; and after he was elected President he did not forget his friend of former years, but had him on his left at the inaugural banquet and the dignified Secretary Seward on his right. Mr. Lincoln presented the two men to each other saying, 120 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN 'Seward, this is Mr. Greene of Illinois/ Seward bowed stiffly, when Mr. Lincoln exclaimed, 'Oh, get up, Seward, and shake hands with Greene; he's the man that taught me my grammar/ " Further insight which Nancy gives in the lives of Ann and Lincoln comes later. Of Margaret and Wil- liam, the "little ones" in the family, little is said; Mary died in infancy, but Sarah, "the baby," died in 1922, clear-minded at the triumphant age of ninety-three. This was Ann Rutledge's home and family in whose interests Lincoln's heart was so closely bound. About the New Year in 1835, Ann finally told Lin- coln that she was his. In this joy, life had a new meaning for Lincoln and he looked ahead to the year 1835 as tn e brightest and happiest he had ever known. "She loved him," her sister Nancy declares, "with a more mature and enduring affection than she had ever felt for McNeil. They would have been married at once," she says, "but decided to wait a year as Annie wanted to go to school a while longer, and though Mr. Lincoln was beginning to have very high aspirations, he was very poor and both wished to better equip themselves for the position they would eventually occupy." John Sonee, who knew Lincoln and was "an eye witness to the events narrated by Robert Rutledge from boyhood," adds, "Ann Rutledge was a very ami- able and lovable woman and it was deemed a very suit- able match, as they were in every way worthy of each other." It must have been a particular joy to Lincoln to find his mate in one whose interest in study was so close ANN RUTLEDGE 121 to his. He had, in a sense, led a lonely existence, dwelling much in an inner life apart and unshared. Ann entered this and with her coming Lincoln felt such a quickening of his powers, such an opening up of those dammed-up emotions, desires, dreams and ambi- tions as made him joyfully conscious of a strength to reach great heights for her sake. He had something to live for now. Ann Rutledge waked the sleeping lion. Small wonder that Lincoln, roused, carried the elec- tion this time. The young legislator knew that he could not go to the State Capitol at Vandalia in his shabby jeans, and so he approached one of his acquaintances one day in this wise: "Smoot, did you vote for me?" "I did that very thing." "Well, that makes you responsible, for I want to make a decent appearance in the Legislature." "How much do you want?" "About two hundred dollars, I reckon." The result was that Abraham appeared a few days later in a most fashionable outfit, much to the pleasure of the Rutledge clan and the pride of Ann. It was hard for her to believe that this was the uncouth woodsman she had seen standing on the river raft in his jeans, boots and battered hat. Not even McNeil, the dandy, presented a more fashionable appearance. That summer was the brightest and the darkest of his life. He went to Vandalia, with his heart high. He returned crushed. An epidemic of malarial fever broke out in the settlement spreading such grief and 122 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN devastation as he had not known since the fatal "milk- sickness" days. Lincoln himself succumbed to violent chills and fever, but persisted in helping nurse others more unfortunate than himself. Then Ann Rutledge succumbed. Her sister Nancy writes : "When she realized that she could not get well, Annie wanted to see Mr. Lincoln and brother David who was attending school at Jacksonville. Bowling Greene was sent for Mr. Lincoln and McGrady Rutledge, our cousin, for David. I can never forget how sad and broken hearted Mr. Lincoln looked when he came out of the room after his last interview with Annie. None knows what was said at that meeting, for they were alone together, except that he told a friend she told him to 'always live an honest and upright life/ 'and I have always tried to do so,' he added." Nancy said that Lincoln did not even have a picture of "Sister Annie," for people did not have pictures taken then as they do now, and he could only treasure her small and pitiful keepsakes, her memory and the picture of her that lived forever in his heart. Shortly after Annie's death a curious and unexpected thing happened. John McNeil returned and Nancy says: "He satisfactorily explained his absence, protested his love for Annie and begged my mother for some article which had been hers, for a memento. He lived and died near New Salem." In the meanwhile Lincoln was prostrated with frantic grief. There had been so little in his life of love and beauty that his experience with Ann went all the deeper. For the few brief months of his engagement hope A First National Picture. The Dramatic Life of Abraham Lincoln. HIS FIRST ROMANCE— WITH ANN RUTLEDGE. ANN RUTLEDGE 123 had gleamed brightly for the man in whose life little had been bright before. Now with the passing of his love, this gleam snuffed out and Lincoln was plunged in a night of black despair. He left Ann's deathbed with such torture of agony on his haggard face that friends said he had lost his mind. For a time this seemed too true. A tempest of grief and frenzy swept away all that had been his of faith and self-control. He had passed through other storms in mastery of himself, now grief mastered him. He did not know his friends, he hardly knew his own identity. It was whispered through New Salem that he was insane. His friends rallied round him and guarded him from his own frantic self, but no one had much influence. Then Bowling Greene came to the fore. He alone seemed able to control the frantic and fever-stricken lover. He coaxed and enticed the half -conscious Lincoln to his old familiar home and watched him night and day. Fever and chills had worked such havoc on Lincoln himself by this time that there was reason to believe he might soon join his betrothed. A doctor's care and "Aunt Nancy's" nursing brought him out of the valley after fearful weeks of illness, raving and despair. Weakened from long overwork, overstudy, and lack of sleep, living in a constant strain between the goad of ambition and the bitterness of poverty, Lincoln was so undermined in health and strength that a complete breakdown of body and mind combined to make recovery not only slow, but doubtful. Rest he needed, oblivion he craved. 124* THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN He recovered sufficiently at last to leave the Greenes' bed and care, but his heart was dead, his will gone. He did not wish to live. He thought continually of the grave where a huge field boulder inscribed simply "Ann Rutledge" marked the end of his hopes. He could not shake off the strangling gloom which clutched him night and day. One night when a wild winter's storm beat at the panes he sat beside Billy Greene, "his head bowed on his hands while tears trickled through his fingers. His friend begged him to control his sorrow and forget. 'I cannot,' moaned Lincoln, 'the thought of the snow and rain on her grave fills me with indescribable grief.' " He could not conquer himself sufficiently to return to the Legisla- ture, yet found no peace in his restless mourning over the scenes in New Salem, sacred to the memory of such recent days of happiness. He went home to his parents, but the little nephews now filling the house there said that whenever Uncle Abe tried to tell Gran'ma about it "he cried something dreadful. He couldn't never talk about his girl without he'd cry and cry and cry." The man whom Nancy Rutledge described as "so good-natured and full of life and fun," who "always enjoyed jokes and pranks and children," was now broken. Melancholia wiped out all sense of fun. It seemed as if he could never jest again. This was not the Lincoln that New Salem knew. His self-control returned with the determination to "work, work, work," the only remedy for grief. He plunged into it with a fervor that brought success, but he was never quite the same Lincoln again. Melancholia had ANN RUTLEDGE 125 marked him and from this time on throughout his life he was subject to periods of the deepest depression. Ann Rutledge took something of buoyancy and hope from him when she died, and for years he declared, "My heart is buried with that girl." PART III Family Life and Politics "I believe I have made some mark which will tell for the cause of civil liberty after I am gone." CHAPTER XV CAMPAIGNING Lincoln was candidate for the same office again the following year, and he flung himself into the campaign with this characteristic opening letter : "New Salem, June 13, 1836. "To the Editor of the 'Journal' : "In your paper of last Saturday I see a communica- tion over the signatures of 'Many Voters' in which the candidates who are announced in the Journal are called upon to 'show their hands/ "Agreed. Here's mine. "I go in for all sharing the privileges of the govern- ment who assist in bearing its burdens. Consequently, I go for admitting all whites to the right of suffrage who pay taxes or bear arms (by no means excluding females). "If elected I shall consider the whole people of Sangamon my constituents, as well those that oppose as those that support me. "While acting as their Representative, I shall be governed by their will on all subjects upon which I have the means of knowing what their will is; and upon all others I shall do what my own judgment teaches me will best advance their interests. Whether elected or not, I go for distributing the proceeds of the sales of public lands to the several states to enable 129 130 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OP LINCOLN our State, in common with others, to dig canals, and construct railroads without borrowing money and pay- ing interest on it. "If alive on the first Monday in November, I shall vote for Hugh L. White for President. "Very respectfully, "A. Lincoln." This was the kind of forthright statement suited to please the Sangamon voters and as a result Lincoln not only received more votes than any other candidate on the legislative ticket, but the county, which had always been Democratic, turned Whig! Lincoln's oratory was of the same sturdy and straightforward style, and his ready wit at catching an advantage from an opponent in public debate won many a voter to him. His first appearance as a stump speaker took place at the Court House at Springfield. At that time one of the prominent citizens of the place was George Forquer, a Whig who had deserted to the Democrats because he had received a lucrative position as Regis- trar in the Land Office. He lived in the most preten- tious house in town, and its splendor was surmounted by the first lightning rod ever put up in Sangamon County ! This novelty was the talk of the townspeople and Lincoln knew of it. At the large meeting there were several speeches, and Lincoln's part was to close the discussion, which he did very ably. Forquer was not a candidate, but he prided himself on his public speaking and so he asked permission to say a few words for the Demo- CAMPAIGNING 131 crats. It pleased this fine fellow to attack and ridicule the New Salem candidate. He began by saying, "This young man must be taken down, and I am truly sorry that the task devolves upon me." He then proceeded to ridicule Lincoln's appearance and dress, even more than his arguments, and so brutally that the "Clary's Grove Boys" who were there to cheer their favorite wanted to get up and start a fight. Lincoln, however, remained poised and calm, but the moment Forquer had finished he took the platform again. He first annihilated his arguments, one by one, systematically and thoroughly. But the great triumph was his conclusion where he said : "The gentleman commenced his speech by saying that 'this young man,' alluding to me, 'must be taken down.' I am not so young in years as I am in the tricks and trades of a politician, but," said he, pointing to Forquer, "live long, or die young, I would rather die now than, like the gentleman, change my politics, and with the change receive an office worth three thousand dollars a year, and then feel obliged to erect a lightning rod over my house to protect a guilty conscience from an offended God!" At another time he had a similar brush with Colonel Dick Taylor, a pompous and dandified Democratic orator. This gentleman rode about in a carriage, dressed with many ruffles on his shirts, with shining boots, kid gloves, and flashing diamonds and gold studs in his linen, and with many charms and seals dangling from his heavy gold watch-chain. He was obviously different from the hard-working farmers whose votes he sought, but he persisted in saying that 132 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN he was one of the "hard-handed yeomanry of the land." He waxed eloquently sarcastic about the Whig aristoc- racy, calling them "rag barons" and "silk-stocking gentry." He was rather foolish to shout these fine- sounding phrases at Lincoln, raw-boned and work- toughened in his jeans and checkered shirt. At one time when they met in debate, Taylor made such sweep- ing gestures that the buttons flew from his vest, and all his ruffles, watch-chain, and jewels were exposed. Lincoln could not resist the opportunity, so he pointed to the ruffles and called out : "Behold the hard-fisted Democrat! Look, gentle- men, at this specimen of bone and sinew, and here, gentlemen," said he, pointing to himself, "here at your service — here is your aristocrat! Here is one of your 'silk stocking gentry !' " He spread out his hands. "Here is your 'rag baron' with his 'lily white hands/ Yes, I suppose I, according to my friend Taylor, am a 'bloated aristocrat !' " The contrast was so obvious that the crowd burst into shouts of laughter and approval. Lincoln's repu- tation as a speaker was established. There were nine Sangamon delegates to the State Legislature: two senators and seven representatives, and it happened that year that each of these nine coun- trymen were over six feet tall, so that they were nick- named "The Long Nine," while Lincoln, the tallest of them all, was known as "the Sangamon Chief." It is interesting to see who were colleagues in the "Long Nine," for some of them were to play further parts in Lincoln's life. There were Edward D. Baker and John J. Hardin, who became his firmest personal CAMPAIGNING 133 friends; Ninian W. Edwards, brother-in-law to Mary Todd of subsequent renown, and none other than Stephen A. Douglas himself, who was to prove doubly a rival. Two important measures were fostered by Lincoln during this term : he was foremost in securing a change of the State Capital from Vandalia to Springfield, and he struck his first blow against slavery. There were several leading towns competing for the privilege of being state capital at that time, among them Peoria, Vandalia, Jacksonville and Springfield. Lincoln cham- pioned Springfield, and that Springfield won was ac- credited to Lincoln's common sense and shrewd tactics. The honor won, Springfield was to raise $50,000 to- ward financing a capitol building, the state to pay an- other $50,000. This sum seemed overwhelming to the small town, for it boasted not a thousand citizens at that time. Stephen A. Douglas accordingly suggested an adroit measure to release the town from this heavy obligation, but Lincoln stoutly declared, "We have the benefit; let us stand by our obligations like men," and saw the measure successfully financed. Of more significance than this piece of legislative service was Lincoln's first stroke against slavery. Illi- nois was settled chiefly by emigrants from slave states so that the feeling against "Abolitionists" here was as bitter as in the south. It required courage to risk political success by taking an anti-slavery stand in the face of violent prejudice. There was a set of laws in Illinois then, called 'The Black Code," which consisted "of the most revolting cruelty and severity" toward negroes. "The Black Code" ran so counter to Lincoln's 134 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN spirit of mercy and justice that at any cost to himself he could not let it stand unchallenged when he was in a position to attempt, as he had aspired, to hit slavery and "hit it hard." He therefore drew up a protest and to appease preju- dice based it diplomatically on the grounds of "bad policy." He signed this and presented it to the House for other signatures. There were over one hundred members in the House, but only one single man, Dan Stone, dared add his name to Lincoln's. The measure fell through, but it marked the Emancipator's first step toward abolition. The Legislative term ended in raw March, 1837, and the "Long Nine" set out for home, eight mounted on horseback, Lincoln swinging powerfully along with them on foot. Like most backwoodsmen, he could walk nearly as fast as a horse and as his long legs strode on short cuts through dry fields while the riders floundered along the muddy roads, he kept up with his companions all the way on a trip that took them four days. No doubt, to enjoy his company and banter they found it more congenial to set their pace to his, as had his fellows on the homeward tramp from the Black Hawk War. One repartee of the journey re- veals the fact that even yet poverty marked Lincoln's dress. Poorly protected from the raw March wind, he shivered and said : "Boys, I'm cold." "No wonder," came the unfeeling retort, "there's so much of you on the ground !" CHAPTER XVI A. LINCOLN, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW At the conclusion of the Legislative session that spring, Lincoln made up his mind that he could now abandon his hand-to-mouth existence in New Salem and launch out for himself as a practicing lawyer in Springfield. The familiar scenes in New Salem roused such sadness in his heart that he felt forced to leave them for his peace of mind, and believed it best to accept the advice of Springfield friends who urged him to come there. He promptly, though reluctantly, parted from his old friends in New Salem, sold his surveying instru- ments, and packing up his scant clothing and few books, that same blustering March, he borrowed a horse once more from the faithful Bowling Greene and set his face toward Springfield. At his back was the village to which he had come on his first independent venture after leaving his father's home at the age of twenty- one. Here he had begun work with nothing and com- menced a brilliant career. Here he had loved and lost. He had taken a hand in New Salem's growth, sur- veyed it, watched it grow and then dwindle as the Petersburg he had also platted threatened to outgrow and swallow its identity. Perhaps there was even some premonition in his mind as he left of the little muddy town's ultimate decay, for less than a year after Lincoln's departure New Salem was no more. 135 136 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN He rode along, sunk in sad thought as New Salem, and its scenes of so much work, study, happiness, and sorrow slipped out of sight in the woods behind him. Arriving in Springfield, he shook off the melancholy which enveloped him and determined to start the future and new fortunes bravely. Once more he found him- self homeless and without money. The saddle-bags contained all his worldly goods and it must have been hard not to feel forlorn as he tied his horse at the public hitching rack in the Springfield square, and made his way into a nearby store. A good-natured fellow by the name of Speed was the proprietor and he greeted Lincoln heartily and assured him that Springfield was better than New Salem. Lincoln had purchased a single bedstead sec- ond-hand, and he wanted Speed to figure up what a tick, blankets, etc., would cost. "Oh, around seventeen dollars, I reckon." Poor Lincoln! All he could say was, "I had no idee it would cost that much. Well, if you can trust me till Christmas I can get them, I guess." "Pshaw," cried the big-hearted Speed. "Go sell back your bedstead. I got a double bed upstairs and you can sleep with me till you git straightened out. It's upstairs behind a pile of barrels." Lincoln ran out for his saddle-bags, and as he car- ried them up the stairs he called over his shoulder : "Thanks to you, Speed, I've moved!" Thus Lincoln the lawyer came to Springfield. It was not a prepossessing place in which to win fame. There were no pavements and the road crossings had stumps driven in as stepping stones across the mud. A. LINCOLN, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW 137 Here Lincoln planned his future. During his terms as Representative he had taken advantage of the State Library in Vandalia to complete his law studies and was admitted to the bar in 1836, although his name does not appear on the records until '37. The list of Springfield attorneys then included many famous names of men whose lives were linked with the future President's. These included Lincoln's fast friend, Ed- ward D. Baker, the overbearing Forquer of lightning rod fame; Dan Stone, sole signer of Lincoln's petition; Ninian W. Edwards, brother-in-law to Mary Todd; Stephen A. Douglas, now Registrar of the Land Office in place of Forquer, and John T. Stuart, the attorney who had first lent Lincoln law books. Lincoln arrived in Springfield in muddy March. Before the end of that April John T. Stuart, who had a well-established and successful law practice, had taken Lincoln into partnership. The firm of Stuart & Lincoln continued until the April of 1841, a gloomy year that marked more than the severance of Lincoln's connections with John Todd Stuart. The law office of Stuart & Lincoln was just above the court room, and here Mr. Lamon tells us "the junior partner was to be found pretty much all the time 'reading, abstracted and gloomy.' A trap door in the office floor opened down into the court room below. In the court room one day Edward D. Baker was making a speech while Lincoln sat in the office above. Baker's speech offended some Democrats who were present and a commotion arose with cries of Tull him down !' A general fight was imminent when Lincoln's long legs appeared through the hole in the 138 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN ceiling and his towering figure dropped to the plat- form beside his friend, as he cried out, 'Gentlemen, let us not disgrace the age and country in which we live. This is a land where freedom of speech is guar- anteed. Mr. Baker has a right to speak and ought to be permitted to do so. I am here to protect him and no man shall pull him from this stand if I can prevent it/ " One of his first cases in Springfield was a criminal one which there was small chance of winning. How- ever, he worked with might and main at it, and when he won, he was presented with five hundred dollars. This was more money than he had ever had before in his life. He sat down at the courtroom table, spread out his wealth before him and was wondering what to do with it when the Judge came in. "If I only could earn two hundred and fifty more/' he told him, "I'd buy a plot of ground and settle it on my old stepmother." "If that's all that prevents you," replied the Judge, "I'll lend you the money and take your note for it. But don't settle the land on her. Give her the use of it for life, and have it revert to you at her death." "Not at all," was Lincoln's instant reply. "I'm not going to give it halfway. After all it's a poor return for her years of kindness to me." There was "no half way business" about this trans- action nor in any of his other provisions for his be- loved stepmother, as we shall see later on. The Judge who made this generosity promptly pos- sible for Lincoln was a fast friend of his who thor- oughly enjoyed matching wits with him and delighted A. LINCOLN, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW 189 to try to outdo Lincoln at pranks. A return of some of Lincoln's early sense of fun is seen in the manner in which he outwitted the bantering Judge in a horse trade. It was jestingly agreed that the pair should swap horses "sight unseen" at nine o'clock one morn- ing and no backing out on penalty of a fine of twenty- five dollars. The Judge exulted in his success in round- ing up one of the saddest, sway-backed specimens of knee-sprung, foundered horseflesh any one would ever care to see. He was slapping his knees and guffawing at having outdone Abe this time, when Lincoln blithely appeared carrying a wooden sawhorse. One glance at the sorry old nag and Lincoln declared, "Judge, this is the first time I ever got the worst of it in a horse trade." So the robust humor of former days began to re- turn to the melancholy Lincoln after he had lived a time in new surroundings. An example of his merri- ment occurred one day when an old wagon maker sent his son post-haste for Lincoln in a last-minute emer- gency to defend him in a case already going on in court. The youth found Lincoln not absorbed in any law book, but on his hands and knees playing marbles with some small boys on the street. Lincoln climbed into the waiting buggy and the pair drove off. Lincoln was still in such high spirits from his frolic with the gleeful children that he regaled the wagon maker's son with one droll story after another, until the boy, holding his sides and wiping his eyes with laughter, drove the horse into a ditch upsetting and breaking the buggy. Leaving the boy with the horse, Lincoln hurried on to court and won the case. The wagon maker, de- 140 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN lighted, asked how much he owed : "I hope you don't think ten or fifteen dollars too much/' Lincoln said, "I smashed your buggy on the way and want to pay for repairs." Jest and sadness checkered Lincoln's career daily. Outwitting some wag at a prank one day, on the next he might figure in some tragedy which shadowed the court room. The man who had dared prepare an anti- slave petition in the face of a hostile Legislature did not hesitate now at the risk of his own political suc- cess to champion the cause of negro defendants whose wretched cases came to court in questions of their freedom. Once confronted by a fugitive slave who frantically pleaded his protection, Lincoln uttered these prophetic words : "As the law stands I cannot legally aid you to escape, but I can change the law and with the help of God I shall do so though it cost me my lifer' This was the solemn undercurrent in his devo- tion to the law. With this purpose ever before him he continued his country town practice. Often in handling petty cases he resorted to such comic appeals that casual spectators little guessed the deeper and more solemn strain within him. Such an instance occurred in court one day in countering with an oppo- nent who had all the advantage of the technical points of law on his side though not the actual moral right. It was a sultry day and the other lawyer, in the free and easy country court room manner, took off his coat and vest to be more comfortable. This revealed the fact that he wore a "new-fangled" shirt which fashionably buttoned behind, instead of down the chest like the shirts on the broad bosoms of his plain country A. LINCOLN, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW 141 jurymen. Lincoln won the case with a laugh raised by this summary: "Gentlemen of the jury, havirfg justice on my side, I don't think you will be at all influenced by the gentleman's pretended knowledge of the law when you see he does not even know which side of his shirt should be in front/' Like David Rutledge, Lincoln "refused to take a case unless he knew his side was right." This prin- ciple he adhered to steadily throughout his practice as a member of the subsequent firm of Logan & Lincoln and Lincoln & Herndon. One day a client came to him and after hearing his side of the case, Lincoln teetered around in his swing chair and said: "Well, you have a pretty good case in technical law, but a pretty bad one in equity and justice. You'll have to get some other fellow to win this case for you. I couldn't do it. All the time while talking to the jury I'd be thinking, 'Lincoln, you're a liar,' and I believe I should forget myself and say it out loud." At another time Lincoln discovered, in the middle of a case then going on in court, that his client had practiced fraud. He strode out of the court room in disgust and refused to return and finish the case. To the messenger who came after him with word that the Judge told him to come back, he said, "You tell the judge that my hands are dirty and I've gone to wash them." Another time when consulted by a would-be client who wanted to foreclose a mortgage Lincoln blurted out: "Yes, we could win your case without doubt and turn this widow and her six little children out onto 142 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN the streets, and you would have your six hundred dollars. It is legally all right, but morally it don't hold water. Now here's some advice for which I make no charge. You appear to be an energetic, up and coming fellow. Why not go out and earn six hundred dollars some other way?" Lincoln was indignant at the popular belief that a lawyer need not be honest. "If you cannot be honest and be a lawyer too, don't be a lawyer," was his advice. "Choose some other occupation rather than one in the choosing of which you do, in advance, consent to be a knave/* CHAPTER XVII MARY TODD Summertime of the year 1839 brought with it an incident which roused new hope and interest in Lincoln's heart. Mrs. Ninian W. Edwards gave a ball for her visit- ing sister, Miss Mary Todd, of Kentucky. Miss Todd was quite a belle in Lexington and thoroughly enjoyed social gayety. That the muddy little Western town (State Capital, though it was) might not prove dull for this young lady, Mrs. Edwards invited all the leading young men of Springfield, little dreaming how illustrious some of these guests were to become. To this festive affair Lincoln was invited. Such functions seemed ordeals to him, and he might very likely have shirked attendance at what proved to be a vital occasion for him, had not his friends prevailed on him to join them. Parties like this were welcome breaks in the small town routine and the young men were gay at the prospect and chaffed one another about the charming newcomer. Lincoln's protest that he did not want to go they shouted down. Of course he was going, they were all going. Ninian Edwards said it was nothing but a little old party up at his house and he'd better come. Dan Stone was going and he told Lincoln he'd better come along and be nice to the girls and not let Douglas get ahead of him with the much-talked-of Kentucky beauty. Ed Baker not 143 144 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN only told him he'd got to go but forcibly inserted the protesting Lincoln's six feet four into somewhat snug evening clothes and masterfully girt Lincoln's long gaunt neck into a conventional stock. Lincoln an- nounced that he was miserable, but Baker said, "Oh, come along, you look so handsome the visiting lady is going to fall in love with you." The evening was a great success and as it advanced Lincoln was surprised to find himself becoming less and less miserable and although usually shy among young ladies, with Miss Todd he began to feel more and more at ease. It had been years since Lincoln felt such a stir of interest It amazed yet fascinated him. Dancing began and Miss Todd found herself the center of an eager group. Her popularity had not been over- rated. Lincoln found himself watching her steadily wherever she moved about the room; he felt himself drawn near her even when he could not quite bring himself to clear the lump of embarrassment in his throat and break into conversation with her. He dis- covered himself edging in from the outer rim of the circle about her and finally mustered the courage to say huskily in his awkward way: "Miss Todd, I should like to dance with you the worst way." Miss Todd gracefully complied and hobbled around with her awkward swain, serenely ignoring tramped toes, uncertain rhythm and bumps from other spinning couples. "Well," whispered one of the girls to her mis- chievously as she limped back to her place, "did he dance with you the worst way ?" MARY TODD 145 "Yes," laughed Miss Todd, ruefully, and added with emphasis, "The very worst possible!" Undaunted, Lincoln still hovered near, but the suave and polished Douglas succeeded in monopolizing the guest of honor. Lincoln watched the couple with perhaps some little rising resentment of Douglas's easy- success. He comforted himself with the knowledge that Douglas had arrived in Springfield but a few years before with only thirty-seven cents in his pocket, a ragged journey- worn boy adventuring from Vermont to seek his fortune in the West. His social aplomb was more assured than Lincoln's, but he had surely won no higher place than Lincoln had achieved as suc- cessful legislator, orator and well-established lawyer. Summing up his own triumphs to stiffen his courage, Lincoln determined not to feel that Douglas could outdo him. Lincoln then exerted himself to join that ring of black-coated figures about Miss Todd which was successfully preventing her from thinking the West a dull place. Miss Todd was short, dark, plump, and vivacious, accustomed to admiration and so socially at ease that she put others at ease by her own poise. This Lincoln responded to as he had responded to nothing else in any girl for years. Her quick wit and clever repartee at- tracted him and stirred his own humor. In fact Mary Todd impressed him. He went home from the party with her vividly in mind. Something about her chal- lenged him, he wanted another encounter. The oppor- tunity for it came and this time no one had to urge him to go. In fact, for the first time in his life he began to 146 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN think about his dress and attend to other niceties and points of social grace. This was a new Lincoln. It was an effort nevertheless for him to maintain clothes fit for the occasions that now rose. He stead- ily earned a satisfactory income but this was swallowed up in remittances to his unsuccessful father, in pay- ment of such debts as he still owed on the unlucky store, to the Judge for money on his step-mother's land purchase, and to Smoot for that first set of Legis- lative clothes. He rarely kept enough cash free to dress well on, and this had never bothered him before. Now it began to embarrass him that his wardrobe was so limited that when a friend asked, "Abe, can you lend me a b'iled shirt ?" he had to answer, "Well, I've only got two, the one I've just taken off, and the one I have on. Which do you want?" Surely Mary Todd had awakened an unused side of his nature. She diverted him into channels so un- familiar to him that his interest grew. The summer passed in festivities, her companionship and the grow- ing rivalry of Stephen A. Douglas as a lover. This experience drove away the melancholia that had long marked Lincoln. He brightened and found spirit to enter into work and recreations with a zest that had long been dead within him. In the meanwhile her sister teased Mary about her two Springfield lovers. A political campaign had opened which promised well for Douglas, and Mrs. Ed- wards said banteringly, "Mary, you had better take him, I think he is going to be a Senator !" "Ah," said Miss Todd, "but I think the other one may be Presi- dent!" at which sally both women laughed heartily. MARY TODD 14*7 This remark may have been only a pleasantry, but It exhibits the uncanny intuition for which Mary Todd became famous. Her premonitions were prophetic, her insight into people so astute that they were well-nigh clairvoyant, and this quality marked her from the first as an excellent mate for a leader in public affairs. Miss Todd had a brilliant mind and a lively interest in all matters political. She enjoyed society and public life. Intensely ambitious, she has been accused of being coldly calculating in her efforts to reach the highest social peak. This point, unduly emphasized, has been based upon the girlish boast which was always, even in school days : "I'm going to marry the President of the United States." Her early background was as different from Lincoln's as could possibly be imagined. Like him she was born in Kentucky, but Mary Todd was reared there in wealth in the social center of Lexington. She had the best education afforded to girls in those days. She attended a private school of high standing, kept by a cultured French lady, and as nothing but French was spoken at this school, she became so conversationally fluent in "the court language" as to be well fitted for diplo- matic circles abroad. Like Lincoln, she had a step-mother, but unlike him, she found hers so uncongenial that as soon as she fin- ished school she chose to live, not at her father's home in Kentucky, but with her two sisters, Mrs. Edwards and Mrs. Wallace, in Springfield, Illinois. There was further reason in her residing in Spring- field, for here other relatives also lived, influential in the Capital, who had brought with them the cultured 148 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN customs and courtesies of Kentucky society, as different as might be from pioneer crudities. Major John Todd Stuart, Lincoln's law partner, was one of the Ken- tucky Todds and Mary's cousin. There were besides, of high standing in the community, Dr. John Todd and his family ; as well as Dr. and Mrs. Wallace ; and Mrs. Ninian Edwards, her eldest sister, whose father- in-law, one-time Governor and Senator, commanded the utmost respect. A contrast these, to Tom Lincoln, who scorned "book-learning," and the lovable and lively Sally Bush with her forty-dollar bureau ! Mary Todd, therefore, fortified by influential relatives, had full reason to feel at home in Springfield. Mary Todd's ambition seems to have been to marry a man of highest prominence, and in his advancement exert all the talents with which she was so fittingly endowed. This she was destined to do with the utmost success. Within her choice now were two suitors of the greatest promise : one tall, awkward, and unpreposses- sing; the other short, pleasing and graceful. To the everlasting credit of her heart and renowned intuition she chose the better man. Mary Todd was not wholly calculating. Her nature was warmly emotional and perhaps, as her later life evinced, too sensitive. Her own sound judgment prompted her to value Lincoln's habits and principles above those of the more charm- ing Douglas. Her social pose and shrewd political instinct were in strange contrast with the quiet, homely virtues of Ann Rutledge. Miss Todd used to pit the wits of Douglas and Lincoln brilliantly together in her sister's MARY TODD 149 drawing room eleven years before they clashed in the famous public debates. Sharp contrast this to the evenings spent with the little Rutledge girl singing hymns from a well-worn, green-backed book at an asth- matic parlor organ! Perhaps it was her very differ- ence from Ann Rutledge that made it possible for Lincoln to love again. They were engaged and then the engagement was broken off. No definite reason for the break is known, but it is easy to conjecture that between lovers with such widely differing backgrounds the course of true love was not likely to be smooth. Perhaps the different quality of this feeling from that of his first love perplexed Lincoln and set him ; pondering whether it were whole-souled enough to offer her. Mary Todd may have resented a suspicion that the shadow of Ann Rutledge in his heart clouded it for a newer love. Possibly one of Lincoln's periods of serious depression overwhelmed him, altered his [personality, and alarmed her for the future. Probably like most engaged girls she was beset by all sorts of prenuptial doubts. Her heart doubtless failed her in facing a marriage to all appearances "socially beneath her" in the face of family disap- proval, even though her head told her that this man towered above all other men in worth. Recognition of the vast difference between them may have discouraged Lincoln, too, when he pictured how out of place she would be in his father's wretched cabin. Her relatives, high-bred, proud, and ambitious for a marriage of wealth and distinction for her, inter- 150 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN vened. Lincoln was equally proud, and always over- sensitive as "Blue Nose" Crawford's wife said "about coming in where he wasn't wanted." He recoiled be- fore her family's opposition. Feeling that the union was not suitable enough to assure permanent happi- ness, they released one another from their promises and parted sorrowfully, Lincoln with bowed head and heavy heart, Mary Todd in tears. The engagement, which had briefly gladdened the life of a man so often battered by disappointment, was snapped off on the first of January, 1841. Thus a New Year dawned unhappily and Lincoln again sank into such desperate despondency that three weeks later he wrote John Todd Stuart, his law partner and Miss Todd's cousin : "For not giving you a general summary of the news, you must pardon me. It is not in my power to do so. I am now the most miserable man living. If what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human fam- ily, there could not be one cheerful face on earth. Whether I shall ever be better I cannot tell; I awfully forebode that I shall not. To remain as I am is im- possible; I must die or be better." For a long time he did not "get better," and becoming unable to work, dissolved his law partnership in April. This letter he wrote from Kentucky whither he had been carried off for a change of scene by his friend Speed, for his nervous depression deepened to such a serious extent that his friends feared he could not live. Joshua Speed (the Speed who had said, "My bed's big enough for two," when Lincoln arrived in Spring- field without price of regular lodgings) now rallied MARY TODD 151 to Lincoln's aid as Bowling- Greene had done during that other breakdown. (Bowling Greene himself had died by this time, and Lincoln, asked to speak at his Masonic funeral had broken down, and left the plat- form weeping.) It was Speed, in Greene's place, who now tried to shake off the clutches of Lincoln's deathly gloom by saying, "Abe, you can't go on living this way. You are killing yourself." To this Lincoln drearily replied, "I am not afraid to die and would be more than will- ing, but I have an irresistible desire to live until I can be assured that the world is a little better for my hav- ing lived in it." Speed, who had moved to Kentucky to live, kept Lincoln with him for a time. By the very irony of fate, no sooner had Lincoln returned to Springfield than Speed himself fell in love and succumbed to misery akin to Lincoln's own. The tables were now turned, and Lincoln became comforter. He wrote letter after letter, counseling his friend out of his own experience. In trying to convince his friend that he must surely love his "Fanny" enough for marriage — a point of doubt in Speed's mind — Lincoln reveals something of his own perplexities. He had been tor- tured with uncertainty as to the sufficiency of his own love — and he dared not accept the love of Mary Todd if it seemed too weak to transcend the obstacles of dis- approval, false social barriers and perhaps certain poverty. This he touches upon obscurely in a letter to Speed on the subject of "loving enough," in which he breaks off to say, "Perhaps this point is no longer a question 152 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN with you, and my pertinacious dwelling upon it is a rude intrusion upon your feelings. If so, you must pardon me. You know the hell I have suffered on that point and how tender I am upon it. I am now fully convinced that you love her as ardently as you are capable of loving. It is the peculiar misfortune of both you and me to dream dreams of Elysium far exceeding all that anything earthly can realize." Evidently both Lincoln and Speed took with gloomy seriousness that question, "Do I love her enough?" which assails most lovers and characterizes nearly every courtship. The clouds cleared for Speed and he was married, with what Elysian happiness we may judge from this letter of Lincoln's : "It cannot be told how it thrills me with joy to hear you say you are 'far happier than you ever expected to be.' That much, I know, is enough. I know you too well not to suppose your expectations were not, at least sometimes, extravagant, and if the reality exceeds them all, I say, 'Enough, dear Lord !' I am not going beyond the truth when I tell you that the short space it took me to read your last letter gave me more pleas- ure than the sum total of all I have enjoyed since the fatal first of January, 1841. Since reading your letter it seems to me I should have been entirely happy but for the never-absent idea that there is one still unhappy whom I have contributed to make so. That still kills my soul. I cannot but reproach myself for even wishing to be happy while she is otherwise." Another letter to Mr. Speed shows how concerned Lincoln was for Miss Todd's happiness, miserable MARY TODD 153 though he continued to be himself. He reports that his heart was lightened to hear that Miss Todd had gone off with a gay party of young people to Jackson- ville in the most cheerful spirits. There now occurred a strange turn in this romance which involved Lincoln in his one and only duel and unexpectedly restored him to happiness and Mary Todd. A fiery young Irishman named James Shields held the office of State Auditor. State finances were in such a sorry plight that the paper money of the state banks at that time was practically worthless, and the Governor and Auditor of the Treasury issued a cir- cular forbidding state expenses to be paid in state currency. In other words, this meant that they wanted their own salaries quite as well as state taxes to be paid not in worthless paper but in solid Federal cash. Naturally enough all the Whig newspapers throughout the state rose to attack this circular and its questionable policy. One of the most cutting attacks appeared in the Sangamon Journal of September 2, 1841. This was a clever letter vivisecting the administration's policy with the most keen-edged satire and ' 'covering the auditor with merciless personal ridicule. ,, It was written in country dialect, pretending to come from a farmer's widow, a resident of the mythical village of "Lost Townships," signing herself "Rebecca." Shields was a peppery man and so vain that the sarcasm and ridicule of this letter inflamed him in- stantly. The communication was at once so funny and so savage that it immediately became famous, and Shields was tormented by continued sly references to 154 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN "Rebecca." As his fury increased, public merriment grew until the State Capital was in quite a stir about it. The following week there appeared in the Journal another letter from "Rebecca." In this the "widow" offered to appease the infuriated auditor by marrying him. This letter, while attempting the same style as the first, lacked the sharp edge of the other's unique humor, and resulted in being merely personal and mis- chievous without the other's political significance. Ob- viously it was written by a different person, imitating the first. Shields now sent General Whitesides to demand from Mr. Simeon Francis, editor of the Journal, the names of these contributors. Mr. Francis was in a dilemma. Lincoln had written the first letter, and the instant and furious response of the pompous Shields had so delighted two young ladies that they tried their hands at baiting him further by the second letter. These mischievous young ladies were Mary Todd and her sprightly friend, Miss Julia Jayne. They did not know that Lincoln had written the first letter. He had no idea they wrote the other. Confronted by the grim General, Mr. Francis did not know what to do. He could hardly present the names of two ladies to a man who demanded satisfaction at the pistol's point! Before revealing the writers' names, Mr. Francis cornered Lincoln just as he was leaving to attend court in Tremont township. Lincoln promptly instructed him to give Shields his own name and withhold those of the girls. This the editor did. Off went General Whitesides to the furious Shields and the two in- stantly jumped into a buggy and whipped up after MARY TODD 155 Lincoln. But Shields, like the vanished Offutt, was a man who "talked too much with his mouth." As he drove out of Springfield he could not resist "making his brag" that he was after Lincoln. It quickly came to the ears of Lincoln's friends, "Bill" Butler and a Dr. Merryman, and they mounted horses at once and set off to Tremont after the others. They arrived in time to interpose between Lincoln and his blustering opponents. A fight was postponed, but Shields now opened up a correspondence so offensive that at last there seemed nothing else to do but accept his dueling challenge. Lincoln, the challenged, had the choice of weapons and he grimly exercised this right in the vigor- ous choice of "cavalry broadswords of the largest kind." To tell the truth he did not want to hurt his opponent and he certainly did not care to get hurt himself in so absurd a cause. He thereupon laid down as regulations that each was to fight on either side of a board laid on the ground, each to keep within a six-foot limit on his own side of the plank. The whole thing seemed too ridiculous and paltry for Lincoln to take seriously. Nevertheless, Shields insisted that they cross the river to the Missouri side and meet to duel. At the last minute the impetuous auditor was pacified by Lincoln's seconds, who persuaded him to withdraw his challenge and listen to Lincoln's explanation, which was simply that the original letter was written as a political attack only and intended no personal slur upon Shields' character. The duel itself then "petered out," but the result of the entire affair was not yet ended. Mrs. Francis, the editor's wife, now played her hand. She was a social leader in Springfield, fun-loving, 156 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN matchmaking, and popular, and moreover she held an assured place as one of the "best people" in the Capital's society. Hers was exactly the circle of the society-lov- ing Mary Todd and her relatives. On the other hand, Mrs. Francis was equally an avowed friend of Lincoln, and she made up her mind that the breach between him and Miss Todd had widened far enough. She resolved if matters could be mended that she would mend them. Amused by their unconscious linking of names in the "Rebecca" affair, she used this unusual occasion to bring them together. The kind-hearted Mrs. Francis slyly arranged for the unsuspecting Lincoln and Miss Todd to meet "accidentally" at her house. This they did and the confusion of the moment was so cleverly averted by their hostess's diverting reference to "Rebecca" that Lincoln and Mary Todd had a thoroughly enjoyable evening. In fact it was so very agreeable that they continued to meet one another at Mrs. Francis's home repeatedly thereafter. This was in the fall of the same year that began with "that fatal January first." This time, taught by their unhappiness apart, Miss Todd was convinced as to the soundness of her judg- ment, and she was further influenced by Mrs. Francis's "mature social wisdom" that such a marriage would be in every way estimable. Mary Todd resolved that no one should separate them again, and the romance concluded with the following happy ending. One Sunday morning Lincoln, in all the dignity of his Sunday best, called on Miss Todd at Mrs. Edwards' home. November's chill was in the bleak air, but re- stored content made warm springtime in Lincoln's MARY TODD 157 heart. At each meeting their joy in being together again, after nearly a year of separation and acute un- happiness, increased, until Lincoln now pleaded that they be married at once. For a long time they sat to- gether in the parlor earnestly talking, then Lincoln rose triumphantly, and Miss Todd, stepping to the door, called her sister in. The pair startled her by announcing that they were going to be married that evening, very quickly and quietly in this same parlor. Mrs. Edwards was "all of a flutter." Weddings are occasions dear to feminine hearts, and she had looked forward to all the excitement of an elaborate ceremony for Mary. There was, surprisingly enough, nothing ostentatious about her society-loving sister. Mary Todd wanted to be married and to be married now. They could get the family together, she said calmly, and have Mr. Dresser, the Episcopal Rector, come over and marry them after evening service. "But you haven't any wedding gown \" wailed the surprised and distressed Mrs. Edwards, as if no wedding could be properly legal without that. "I'll use what I have," Mary declared firmly. When Mary "put her foot down" the family had to comply. Preparations were hastily made, the Edwards' kitchen bustled at the emer- gency of turning "Sunday night snack" into a wedding supper. Their younger sister, Mrs. Wallace, was sum- moned to help and both flew about, ejaculating, "If there were only a little more time !" Few flowers were available in November to garnish the hastily arranged parlor. In the midst of all these preparations Mary serenely furbished up a simple white muslin dress and looked forward to evening with a more serious pur- 158 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN pose in mind than the arrangement of a wedding veil. Evening came and the guests gathered — there was "just the family," her family — Major and Mrs. John Todd Stuart, Dr. John Todd, Dr. and Mrs. Wallace, and Mrs. Ninian W. Edwards met in the parlor. Old Judge Tom C. Brown, Lincoln's friend and patron, was also present The Rev. Dresser, prayer book in hand, entered. Tall, lean Lincoln and his short, plump bride stood together before him and the ceremony (one of the first Episcopalian weddings in that section) was performed. Unfamiliar with the service, Judge Brown heard Lincoln repeat, "With all my worldly goods I thee endow," and sputtered aloud, "Grace to Goshen, Lincoln, the statute fixes all that!" No wedding is really complete without some little break like this ! No doubt the sisters indulged in usual feminine tears that must be shed on these occasions. The men, reconciled to Mary's choice, congratulated her husband. Mrs. Abraham Lincoln then faced the future conscious of the bright new ring on her finger within which was engraved, "Love is eternal." In spite of earlier forebodings, the marriage turned out to be "happy ever after." Mary Todd Lincoln's keen understanding, her quick grip on situations and the live interest she always evinced in her husband's activities prompted him later to say, "Mary, we are elected President!" She was not his first love, but they loved one another deeply and together they built up the happiness of a home life that was the first Lincoln knew. Save for Ann Rutledge, Lincoln had no love affairs when he met Mary Todd unless we except a brief flirta- MARY TODD 159 tion with a Mary Owen9, in which Lincoln's heart was not deeply involved and which the lady dismissed with the remark that "he was deficient in those minor atten- tions and little civilities which constitute the chain of a woman's happiness." Mary Todd, a more sophisticated woman of far higher ambitions and deeper concern for "those little civilities,' , had sounder judgment and a stouter heart. Of her engagement she wrote to a girlhood friend in Kentucky, acknowledging his defects, yet adding stoutly: "But I intend to make him President of the United States. You will see, that as I always told you, I will yet be the President's wife!" Hers was the insight that divined Lincoln's full power and elected him President before the nation did. CHAPTER XVIII FAMILY LIFE Lincoln's heart was now as high as his friend Speed's, and in a letter to Mr. Speed he gives the following "pleasant glimpse into his domestic arrange- ments at this time" : "We are not keeping house, but are boarding at the Globe Tavern, which is very well kept now by a widow lady of the name of Beck. Our rooms are now the same Dr. Wallace occupied there, and boarding only costs four dollars a week — I most heartily wish you and your family will not fail to come. Just let us know the time, a week in advance, and we will have a room prepared for you, and we'll be merry together for a while." Mrs. Lincoln was too ambitious a housekeeper, how- ever, to be satisfied to "board" indefinitely. Although they had almost too little to live on at this period, nevertheless both craved that sense of stability and permanency which can only come with "owning your own home." They finally found a little house on Eighth Street, which they could afford to buy. The saving and planning which went into the delight of purchasing it and heightened their pride of possession, can best be appreciated by those who have also known this experience. The house was a small frame one with porch and shingled roof. It was only one story high. 160 FAMILY LIFE 161 During their life here Lincoln spent a good deal of his time "on the circuit" — traveling from town to town attending court sessions at various distant county seats, so that sometimes he was away from home for weeks or even months at a time. Returning to Springfield one night after such an absence, he dismounted and tied his horse before what he supposed was his own home. At least he felt pretty sure that his own little one-story house had stood in that spot when he had gone away. But now there rose before him a two-story house, and not knowing whether to believe his own eyes, he did not venture to pull its door bell. Thoroughly puzzled, he stepped across the street to a neighbor's, and although they had gone to bed and their house was dark, he pounded on their door until a head was thrust from an upper window and a voice called: "Who's there?" "It's Abe Lincoln," answered the baffled house owner, "I think I must be lost ; I am looking for my house. I thought it was over there on the corner when I went away, but there seems to be a new one there now !" With a burst of laughter the voice called down : "That's your house, Abe ! Your wife's had a second story built on it while you've been away !" Chuckling at his own bewilderment, Lincoln turned home and was met with a gust of merriment from his wife at his satisfactory astonishment. It seems that she had received some money from the estate of her father, the Hon. Robert B. Todd, of Lexington. Full of enthusiasm for their household welfare, Mary Lincoln decided that she could invest this sum in no better way than by putting it all toward improving 162 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN their home. Not waiting for Lincoln's return or advice, she hustled the remodeling through to surprise him and was thoroughly satisfied with his amazement. Forth- with she escorted him all over the new addition, point- ing out favorite features with exclamations of delight. It was in this house that they lived throughout their life in Springfield. To it he hurried to tell her of his nomination and election to the Presidency. Here elec- tion crowds thronged, swarming porch and yard, here they entertained, despite the smallness of quarters which sometimes seemed outgrown and inadequate for the demands of fame. Here their four sons were born. Lincoln was thirty- three and his wife twenty-four years old when they were married in 1841. Their first boy was born on August first, 1843, an d was named Robert Todd Lincoln for his maternal grandfather. The fourth boy was born on April 4th, ten years later, in 1853, an( ^ was named Thomas for his other grandfather. Be- tween them came Edward Baker Lincoln, born on the tenth of March, in 1856, and named for Lincoln's friend and colleague. William's birthday occurred just before Christmas, December 21st, to be exact, in 185 1. Little "Eddie" died at the lovable age of four, and in the extremity of grief over his loss appeared one of the early evidences of his mother's melancholia which marred the unfortunate later years of her life. Robert and "Willie" were serious, quiet little boys, but Thomas, "the baby," was the rollicking spirit of mis- chief. His father called him "a lively little tadpole," and the nickname "Tad" stuck to him for the rest of his life and was more used and better known than his FAMILY LIFE 163 own. Willie and Tad both lived in the White House in war time and probably the Executive Mansion was never enlivened with more childish pranks than Tad's until the day of little Quentin Roosevelt. While the two little boys were living at the White House, Robert was away at Harvard, a strangely un- expected place for the son of a Pigeon Creek back- woodsman who had learned his ciphering by firelight with a wooden shovel for a slate. Lincoln's delight in his children kept all depression from him now. One of the most amusing tales is told of Willie's babyhood. He was only three years old when his mother was tubbing him one morning and turned her back for a moment. As quick as a wink he scuttled away from her, and being a young runaway, he now set off across the fields scampering along gleefully through the tall grasses and wild flowers attired in absolutely nothing but some soap- suds. At his mother's cries Lincoln, who had been peacefully reading on the porch with his long legs up on the rails, thumped down his chair and stood up to see what the excitement was all about, and at sight of the "pink and white runaway" skipping across the fields like a lively and sudsy little cupid, his father burst out into such a roar of laughter that he could not promptly obey his wife's entreaty to "run and get him!" Finally Lincoln unlimbered himself for pur- suit, and ran after his little naked son while the child, squealing with delight, scudded ahead of him in a gay game of tag. His short plump bare legs were soon overtaken and Lincoln came prancing him pig-aback to his mother and the tub. 164 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN Ann Rutledge's sister has told how Lincoln enjoyed playing tricks upon her small brothers, and how he could often have been seen striding along with a squirm- ing and shrieking little boy under one arm pretending that he did not know he held one. Lincoln now had boys of his own to enjoy this. He came home from church so early one Sunday morning that the sermon was not yet over. Tad was slung unceremoniously under one arm and as Lincoln approached a group of amused friends on a corner he called out his explana- tion in the graphic terms of country horse races : "Gentlemen, I entered this colt but he kicked around so I had to withdraw him." A familiar sight on the streets of Springfield was Lincoln's tall figure swinging along with one little boy perched high on his shoulder, another trotting be- side clutching his coat tails. On one such occasion both boys were howling so lustily that a neighbor called out, "Why, Mr. Lincoln, what's the matter with the boys?" "Just what's the matter with the whole world," he answered. "I've got three walnuts and each wants two." During this period, his partnership with John Todd Stuart being dissolved, Lincoln formed another with Stephen T. Logan. Mr. Logan differed from other lawyers in those days by his focus upon points of law rather than reliance upon flowery rhetoric to move juries. This sound principle Lincoln was quick to dis- cern and profit by. To tell the truth, Logan had chosen Lincoln, expecting him to prove chiefly useful as a "talking advocate" on account of his well-known ability FAMILY LIFE 165 for quick wit in debate, his power of holding attention through apt use of droll illustrative stories and his knack at winning a sudden turn of approval in the face of bitter opposition by a skillful direction of well- chosen ridicule. It turned out, however, that Lincoln surprised his partner by a sudden devotion to technical law principles as well, and this knowledge, coupled with his ready tongue, soon made him "a formidable law- yer." Lincoln's concentration on law study now in- creased and he began at this time to train his faculty which thus far had simply been growing without any of the severe discipline he now began to give it. This partnership marked the definite beginning of a new growth and expansion of Lincoln's maturer powers. With this development, the success, which he had long seemed to promise, now became a marked cer- tainty. The impulse which stirred up his new growth and power undoubtedly lay in the incentive of his home happiness and the earnest cooperation of his in- terested and ambitious wife. The partnership pros- pered, and though Lincoln's absence in Washington as Congressman ended it after four years, the partners always remained fast friends. Early in life they ex- perienced the unique honor of seeing their names made permanent in the State they served through the nam- ing of one county Logan and its county seat Lincoln. From now on Lincoln knew no more poverty and debt. Though he was never rich, he was never poor again. Through his wife's skill in adapting their liv- ing to their income they lived in thorough comfort thereafter. Indeed, much may be said of the part 166 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN Mary Todd Lincoln played in her husband's success. Not only did she apply her mind to the problems of his career, but to the homelier though no less vital mat- ters of housekeeping and home making. She was a "good manager," and though they started their married life on little or nothing, by her common sense and skill- ful economy she soon had them snugly established in a home of their own, one story though it was. It must have seemed especially delightful to her husband who had had no real home before save a one-room, dirt- floor, mud-chinked cabin. The delight which good Sally Bush's beds, quilts, tableware and furniture brought to his little-boy heart must have been no greater than the pride he now took in accumulation of their own household possessions. Mary Todd Lincoln knew how to make the most of little and by various feminine touches gave their house that homelike atmosphere which takes true womanly talent. Her home was always plain, but she made no apology for that. Good taste and dignity marked it, and knowing this, she proudly felt inferior to none. Mrs. Lincoln lost none of her girlish popularity with marriage, but fast became one of the leading young matrons in Springfield's agreeable social circle. Nor did she hesitate to entertain because her home was small and simple. Though her house was more modest than any she had known before marriage, the spirit of her hospitality of Kentucky fame was so warm that friends found more enjoyment in gathering at "the little house on Eighth Street" than at more pre- tentious mansions. Her dinners were always served with orderly refinement and her table became famous FAMILY LIFE 167 for the rare Kentucky dishes, the venison and wild turkey, which she provided for her guests. But it was the geniality and welcome coming from the host and hostess, and the cleverness of the conversation they inspired and led, which formed the chief attraction. Mrs. Lincoln has been accused of such faultfinding and nagging habits as to cause serious home friction, but this seems untrue and unfounded. She was a nervous woman, given, like Lincoln himself, to periods of depression marked at the time of Eddie's death, which deepened as she grew older. But in justice it must be noted that hers were the problems of a great man's wife, and a genius is not always easy to live with, be he ever so admirable or ever so kindly. It must have been a trial to her orderly soul to keep house for an untidy, absent-minded man whose very law office had its desks and pigeon holes so unmethodically stuffed and littered that he kept his more important letters and papers in an old silk "stove pipe" hat upon his desk. One pile of law memoranda, notes and cor- respondence, all unclassified, lay on his desk, unfiled and growing daily. This he labeled, "When you can't find it anywhere else, look into this." This was the "system" of the law firm of Lincoln & Herndon, a partnership which lasted until he left for Washington and the Presidency. Such unorderly habits would fret any tidy wife's precise passion for neatness. His uncouth manners required her correction in view of the position he held, and such reproofs any wife might make without justi- fying the notion that she was a shrew. We have the word of Mr. Henry Rankin, their personal friend, that 168 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN there was no real friction between the couple. He says : 4 'I saw Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln in many and widely differing situations during their married life at their home; saw them leaving home, saw them separating for more or less length of absence for business and pleasure, saw them again when calling at the law office, during busy hours in hurried consultation between each other on family, social or business affairs, saw them in their carriage together, driving out on our city streets and country roads; saw them at parties; saw them regularly attending church together every Sun- day, when both were at home. I saw them often in crowded assemblies of all sorts and conditions of pub- lic affairs; often again in both pleasant and trying circumstances with their children; with their friends, their political foes, and later with huzzaing party admirers, filling their modest home and sometimes over- flowing the streets around their residence on Eighth Street with embarrassing familiarity. In none of these situations did I ever detect in Mrs. Lincoln aught but the most wifely and matronly proprieties and respect toward her husband, her family and her friends. She adapted herself cheerfully to all those exacting func- tions at their home required of Lincoln in his public life." Undoubtedly she loved position and power, and surely she was proud of her lanky, awkward husband. She knew the brilliance of his mind and the honesty of his heart, and that a bright future stretched before him. She certainly must have been glad that she had chosen him instead of Douglas, if she really had ever FAMILY LIFE 169 considered the latter's advances seriously. She ad- mitted that her husband was ungainly, but she de- fended him by saying: 1 'He may not be a handsome figure, but I know that his heart is as large as his arms are long." CHAPTER XIX POLITICS AND CONGRESS Lincoln had served eight consecutive years in the State Legislature and it now seemed time for him to advance to some higher office. At least his friends thought so, and in the year he was married they offered to back him for State Governor. Lincoln refused this, for he had other plans. His mind was now set on Federal rather than State service. He wanted to go to Washington. He therefore independently announced himself as candidate for Congress and managed his own campaign for the office of Representative in 1842. The Whig candidates that year from Sangamon County were ex-Congressman John J. Hardin of Jack- sonville, Edward D. Baker and Abraham Lincoln of Springfield, all three fast friends and former members of the "Long Nine." Hardin and Lincoln lost and Baker was sent to Con- gress. This defeat was not like Lincoln's first, on direct vote of the people, but by county committee of delegates. Absurd prejudice played a part in the far- fetched opposition to Lincoln in this campaign. Lie was called "an aristocrat," possibly in slighting refer- ence to his wife's relatives, certainly not to his own! It was further claimed that he was a "duelist" (in spite of the fact that those "large-sized cavalry broad- swords" had never been crossed!) and moreover he 170 POLITICS AND CONGRESS 171 was unpopular for having married an Episcopalian! However, the very meeting that chose Baker made Lincoln delegate to the Whig Convention. Writing to Speed, Lincoln said : "In getting Baker the nomination I shall be fixed a good deal like the fellow who is made a groomsman to a man that has cut him out and is marrying his own dear 'gal.' " Lincoln declared, "Llowever, I feel my- self bound not to hinder him in any way from getting the nomination ; I should despise myself were I to at- tempt it." At presidential election in 1844 Lincoln made an enthusiastic canvass for the popular candidate Henry Clay. Lincoln's confidence in Clay, based on intelligent study of his principles and public practice, lent such vigor to his campaigning that he was invited by Whig leaders to speak not only in Illinois but in Indiana. While stumping this state he came to Gentryville. This was the town he had left 16 years before as a raw-boned young clodhopper with peddler's pack, driving a covered wagon with a four-ox team. He re- turned now, successful lawyer and Legislator, and all his old neighbors made holiday and turned out to hear him speak. He made his address in behalf of the presidential candidate standing in the doorway of the little log schoolhouse surrounded by old friends, the "Abe" who used to delight them with yarns and irresistible imita- tions of country preachers, the Abe who held forth on politics to his barrel-seated audience with his long legs swinging from the counter. Lincoln had many a larger and more influential audi- 172 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN ence, but he never had one in which appeared so many proud and friendly members of the "I-knew-him- when" club! After the "speakin' " they surged upon him and great handshakings and shoulder slappings ensued. Here again he saw old Mr. Gentry himself, there was Jones of the old grocery store, here were his school friends, Nat and Aaron Grigsby, and even Miss Roby, of spell- ing bee fame, now married and the possessor of several little spellers herself, pressed forward with "I guess you don't remember me, Abe." "Little" Richardson (little no longer), for whom Lincoln had set a pen- manship copy, was there, and old John Baldwin, the blacksmith, and Lincoln's special crony at whose quaint philosophy, retailed in Lincoln's appreciative mimicry, many a statesman and White House caller was later to laugh and learn. John Romine, who called Lincoln "lazy," was there to see the fruits of that laziness; the miller left his wheel at a standstill to come and hear Abe and remind him how he used to like to get a day off from farm work to linger on a slow grain cart through the woods and wait his turn at grinding, mar- veling at the mill's cumbersome machinery and remind- ing Abe with laughter of the day the old horse that turned the mill wheel had kicked him senseless. Altogether, the exigencies of presidential campaign- ing were lost in importance for Lincoln amid the crowd- ing memories of these scenes of his childhood. Finally old "Blue Nose" Crawford carried him off tri- umphantly for supper where the excited Mrs. Crawford bustled about with motherly pride, declaring, "We all know you'll be famous yet, Abe," and plying him be- POLITICS AND CONGRESS 173 yond capacity with all the luxuries of the best "light bread and chicken fixin's." While in Gentryville Lin- coln paid sad visits to the graves of his sister and mother, and stood lost in meditation at the fallen log roof and tumbled-down chimney of the deserted Pigeon Creek cabin. Indeed these scenes, memorable for the events of deaths, discomforts, sorrows and half -timor- ous ambitions, stirred him to put his sentiments in verse. Among the many stanzas of a poem he penned on this occasion are these: — My childhood's home I see again And sadden with the view, And still as memory crowds the brain There's pleasure in it too. Ah, memory! thou midway world 'Twixt earth and Paradise, Where things decayed and loved ones lost In dreamy shadows rise. And freed from all that's earthy, vile, Seems hallowed, pure and bright, Like scenes in some enchanted isle All bathed in liquid light. Lincoln retained his enthusiasm for Gay although he had never seen the great Kentucky statesman, and when it became known that the great orator and con- ciliator was to make a speech in Lexington on gradual emancipation, Lincoln declared a holiday from business and made the trip to Kentucky. As Mrs. Lincoln had many relatives, including several half-brothers and sisters still in her old Lexington home whom she and Lincoln occasionally visited, the journey was made ad- 174 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN ditionally festive by her accompanying him and taking little Robert and baby Eddie along. When Clay heard that Lincoln was in Lexington, he promptly invited him to his "Ashland" mansion (opposite which, by the way, stood the private school where Mary Todd had been a student). Some say that Lincoln was disappointed in Clay's personality, through some sensitiveness to that polished gentleman's aloof attitude of superiority. Whether this is true or not, it is certain that Lincoln always maintained a sound admiration for Clay's principles and political master- ship. When the new year opened in 1846, Lincoln again found himself a candidate for Congress, this time with only his friend Hardin running against him. Hardin suggested, as they were the only two candidates, that there be no convention held and the selection left simply to the voters. Lincoln refused this and there- upon Hardin, with that generosity which marked all the political competition between himself, Baker and Lincoln, withdrew from the contest and gave the place to his friend. At last Lincoln was elected to Congress, but like many another man, as soon as he won the long-coveted honor, it seemed less to him than he had anticipated. He wrote this to his faithful correspond- ent, Speed: "Being elected to Congress, though I am grateful to our friends for having done it, has not pleased me as much as I expected.' ' Lincoln now prepared for his first trip to Washing- ton. Before his departure the Mexican War had broken out and regiments were mustered. Hardin and POLITICS AND CONGRESS 175 Baker were among the first volunteers and even the impetuous Shields of "Rebecca" and broadsword fame had enlisted. Lincoln's stand on this war (a war of which his party was thoroughly ashamed) was typically Whig. He had vigorously opposed its declaration, but once begun he voted for a prompt furnishing of sup- plies that might push it to a speedy and conclusive end. This point is worth remembering. Upon Lincoln's election, his wife closed the little house on Eighth Street temporarily, and with Robert and Eddie set forth to live in Washington also. Lincoln, however, went on ahead by himself first to prepare the way for her. He started off early one morning, taking the stage coach from the corner Tavern. Within the rumbling coach there was only one other passenger, a Kentucky farmer going home from a visit in Missouri. Lincoln sat gaz- ing silently out of the carriage window, buried in grave thoughts. The countryman felt a social respon- sibility to cheer this melancholy traveler and "make talk." Lincoln used to laugh heartily afterwards when telling about this journey and his fellow passenger. "Depressed by my silence and lack of sociability," Lin- coln relates, "the Kentuckian finally offered me a chew of tobacco. 'No, thank you, sir, I never chew/ I said. Later he tried to break in upon me again with the generous offer of a large cigar, 'No, thank you, sir, I never smoke/ I said. By and by, as we waited while they changed horses, he offered me the Kentucky hos- pitality of his brandy flask and to this I said, 'No, thank you, sir, I never drink/ During the last part of the journey I talked to him and when we changed coaches and he left, he said, 'See here, stranger, you're a good 176 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN companion. I may never set eyes on you again, and I don't want to offend you, but I want to say this,' and here Lincoln would laugh and slap his knees, 'My ex- perience has taught me, sir, that a man who has no vices has blamed few virtues, — good eveninV " It was the custom for all Congressmen-elect to fill out an autobiographical blank giving a summary of such data as might be used in the Congressional Direc- tory for a biographical sketch of each member. Mr. Charles Lanman, editor of the Directory, preserved the blank modestly filled out thus in Lincoln's own hand- writing : — Born, Feb. 12, 1809, in Hardin County, Ky. Education — defective. Profession — lawyer. Military Service — captain of Volunteers in Black Hawk War. Offices held — postmaster at a very small office ; four times a member of the Illinois Legislature, and elected to the Lower House of the next Congress. Lincoln was the only Whig elected from Illinois. He found himself a member of the House among such men as John Quincy Adams, Horace Mann and Andrew Johnson. His old rival, Stephen A. Douglas, was now for the first time in the Senate. Daniel Webster was then also in the Senate and with him Lincoln had many a pleasant Saturday breakfast, a weekly social occasion when illustrious New Englanders gathered at the board and were regaled by the tall Westerner's lively talk. On one occasion Lincoln transacted some simple legal POLITICS AND CONGRESS 177 matter for Webster, and as he only charged him ten dollars, Webster used to declare "I owe him money on it to this day." He lived very quietly and simply in Washington, his chief diversion being an occasional game at the bowling alley near his rooms. He always entered with great zest into the contest, but whether he won or not he was good-humored. He was a great favorite at his boarding house, kept by a Mrs. Spriggs on Capitol Hill. His fellows liked him to come into the dining-room, for he was one of the few people who could discuss politics* without fly- ing into a rage. His even temper kept the arguments from growing heated, and if some one was inclined to grow angry, he could always tell an anecdote and clear the atmosphere with a laugh. Lincoln's routine duty in Congress was committee work on post office and post roads, a subject which could not but interest a one-time country postmaster. His "first little speech" he wrote home was on "a postoffice question of no general interest" and in de- livering it he said he found himself just "about as badly scared and no worse than when addressing a court." Just after the holidays in January, 1848, he brought forward what became nicknamed the "Spot Resolutions." President Polk in his message had stated that Mexico invaded our territory and had "shed the blood of our citizens on our own soil/' Lincoln in his "Resolutions," asked the President to name the spot where such occurrences had taken place. By far the most significant move Lincoln made during this uneventful term of office, was his attempt 178 THE DRAMATIC LITE OF LINCOLN to put through a bill which he himself drew up pre- senting a plan for purchasing and freeing all slaves in the District of Columbia. The fearful impression made on Lincoln at the New Orleans slave-market never wholly left his mind. He had not spoken idly when he vowed to "hit it" if he "ever got the chance," and thus far he had never held office without making a chance, however futile, to hit at least at "it." At this time slavery was legal in the national Capital. Lincoln considered this abhorrent He said of it: "In view from the windows of the Capitol is a sort of negro livery-stable where droves of negroes are collected, temporarily kept, and finally taken to Southern markets, precisely like droves of horses. ,, That such a condition should be allowed practically under the dome of the Capitol seemed unbelievable to him, and he introduced a bill which would have the Federal Government pay full value for all slaves in the District of Columbia, free the older ones directly, and the younger ones as soon as they had served an ap- prenticeship which would make them self-supporting. This bill was read and approved by citizens of the city who held most diverse opinions on slavery, but it was never allowed to come up for vote. So Lincoln had to return to Springfield at the end of the term, probably regretting that he had not been able to help the slaves. Lincoln's term was now coming to an end. He had broken into the ways of Washington, learned much about Federal administralion, had moreover become m £*jfT' *fW\ jmm *' ■if SftT'T :*&l5 W* I ^■E** * .8 4B| 3 Miliar 1 re k ^f , { 1 iffi&t ^3 v> o f *. J 3P so SQ j ^z i * ^8 g w j PQ < O S w 2 w 8 ; 1 H 1 /•' H < i— • m> B u- \wBBm§ l c o )"'" '• * *£ !v _';; .15 w ^^m Oh W m "*S m ' lw v ^ffi 1 ^ H 1 2 m «5 | ^ : -~ t* ■**»'* POLITICS AND CONGRESS 179 well known as "champion story teller of the Capitol," and he was ambitious to return and use this experience as a mere beginning for more advanced work. In this he was disappointed. His attitude toward the Mexican War had not pleased his supporters. He wrote home to his partner, William Herndon, "To those who desire that I should be elected, as Mr. Clay said of the annexation of Texas, — personally I would not object if it should so happen that nobody else wishes to be elected. To enter myself as the com- petitor of others or to authorize any one to enter me is what my word and honor forbid." He had given his "word of honor," as had his col- leagues, Hardin and Baker, not to stand in the way of one another toward Congressional election, but as there were many capable young Springfield men ambitious for this honor, they made an agreement to be content with a single term. It happened that Lincoln's old friend and partner, Judge Logan, now came up for nomination, but lost the election. In the intervening Presidential campaign Lincoln electioneered for "Old Rough and Ready" — General Zachary Taylor — in place of Clay, because, as he urged the Whigs, "Mr. Clay's chance for election is just no chance at all." Lincoln returned triumphant from the Whig Convention at Philadelphia, where Taylor was nominated. At the end of Lincoln's Congressional term President Taylor offered him the Washington position of Com- missioner of the General Land Office, but his faithful adherence to the pledge of liberality with his fellows 180 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN made him refuse this appointment in favor of an Illi- nois friend whom he recommended in his place. Pres- ident Taylor then offered to appoint him Governor of the new territory of Oregon, not yet a state. This position thoroughly appealed to Lincoln's pioneering and constructive spirit, but he relinquished the office because his wife, tied down to the family cares of very young children, was reluctant to live in a place so unsettled and so far out of the way. Lincoln's effective campaigning for Zachary Taylor directed the nation's attention upon him. He gave one speech for Taylor from the floor of Congress on July 2.7. He chose to make his points by caricaturing and drollery, and he kept the House in a gale of laughter. The Baltimore American in its ac- count called it the "crack speech of the day," and said : "He is a very able, acute, uncouth, honest, upright man, and a tremendous wag withal. His manner was so good-natured, and his style so peculiar, that he kept the House in a continuous roar of merriment for the last hour of his speech." This speech became so successful that the campaign leaders invited Lincoln to speak at various places in New England. He addressed a meeting first at Worcester, Mass., on September 12. He defined his stand on the slavery question clearly and carefully; and of all the brilliant speeches of that evening his was the one which by its rare combination of argu- ment and wit did most for the Whig cause. The important result of his trip up into New Eng- land, however, was the realization which it gave him that the Northern conviction that slavery was evil could POLITICS AND CONGRESS 181 never be reconciled with the Southern idea that it was good. He stated it thus to Governor Seward: "We have got to deal with this slavery question, and got to give it much more attention than we have been doing. ,, CHAPTER XX THE "HOME FOLKS" In spite of the demands of his broadening career and increasing fame, Lincoln never forgot nor neg- lected his relatives. He sent home money regularly, even when it meant a very definite sacrifice to do so and when he knew only too well that the money would be spent unwisely and followed by requests for more. For this reason he sometimes had to exercise a firm- ness and wisdom in helping his step-brother John John- ston, whose ever-increasing brood now fairly over- flowed the cabin, though John's energy in providing for them did not increase in proportion, as this letter of Lincoln's to his "poor relation" shows : "Dear Johnston : "Your request for eighty dollars I do not think it best to comply with now. At the various times when I have helped you a little you have said to me 'we can get along very well now,' but in a very short time I find you in the same difficulty. Now this can only happen by some defect in your conduct. What that defect is, I think I know. You are not lazy, and still you are an idler. "You are now in need of some money; and what I propose is that you shall go to work 'tooth and nail' for somebody who will give you money for it. Let 182 THE "HOME FOLKS" 183 Father and the boys take charge of things at home, prepare for a crop and make the crop ; and you go to work for the best money wages, — or in discharge of any debt — that you can get; and to secure you a fair reward for your labor, I now promise you that for every dollar you will, between this and the first of next May, get for your own labor, either as money or as discharging your own indebtedness, I will give you one other dollar. By this, if you hire yourself at ten dollars a month, from me you will get ten more, making twenty dollars for your work. In this I do not mean you should go off to St. Louis or the lead mines, or the gold fields of California, but I mean for you to go at it for the best wages you can get close at home, in Coles County. "You say you would almost give your place in heaven for seventy or eighty dollars. Then you value your place in heaven very cheap, for I am sure you can, with the offer I make, get the seventy or eighty dollars for four or five months' work. You say if I will furnish you the money you will deed me the land, and if you don't pay back the money you will deliver possession. Nonsense, if you can't now live with the land, how will you then live without it? You have always been kind to me and I do not mean to be unkind to you. On the contrary, if you will but follow my advice, you will find it worth more than eighty times eighty dollars to you." Thomas Lincoln lived to see his son become Con- gressman and an orator of national repute. He died when he was seventy-three, in still another cabin, at a 184 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN place called Goose Nest Prairie where he had restlessly moved once more. This cabin, more pretentious than the others, consisted properly, of a pair of small cabins connected, with one common chimney, a cook shed and loft. It had a sway-backed shingle roof and its sides were not the same old round logs but "slabs," — distant cousin to the trimmer clapboard. When John notified his step-brother of their father's serious illness, Lincoln wrote : "I sincerely hope Father may yet recover his health, but at all events, tell him to remember to call upon, and confide in our great and merciful Maker, who will not turn away from him in any extremity. He notes the fall of the sparrow, and numbers the hairs of our heads, and He will not forget the dying man who puts his trust in Him. Say to him that, if we could meet now, it is doubtful whether it would be more painful than pleasant, but if it is his lot to go now, he will soon have a joyful meeting with loved ones gone be- fore, and where the rest of us, through the mercy of God, hope ere long, to join him." It was the writer of this letter whom his political enemies accused of being anti-Christian ! The following letters show more vividly than any wordy description the contrasting characters of the two half-brothers who had both been "raised" in the self- same unpromising surroundings. "Shelbyville, Nov. 4, 185 1. "Dear Brother : When I came into Charleston, day before yesterday, I heard you were anxious to sell the THE "HOME FOLKS" 185 land where you live and move to Missouri. I have been thinking of this ever since and cannot but think such a notion is utterly foolish. What can you do in Mis- souri any better than here? Is the land any richer? Can you there, any more than here, raise corn and wheat and oats without work? Will anybody there, any more than here, do your work for you? If you intend to go to work there is no better place than right where you are; if you do not intend to go to work you cannot get along anywhere. Squirming and crawl- ing about from place to place can do no good. You have raised no crop this year and what you really want is to sell the land, get the money and spend it. Part with the land you have, and my life upon it, you will never after own a spot big enough to bury you in. Half you will get for the land you will spend in moving to Missouri, and the other half you will eat and drink and wear out and no foot of land will be bought. "Now I feel it is my duty to have no hand in such a piece of foolery. I feel that it is so even on your own account, and particularly on Mother's account. The eastern forty acres I intend to keep for Mother while she lives ; if you will not cultivate it, it will rent for enough to support her, at least it will rent for something. Her dower in the other two forties she can let you have and no thanks to me. "Now do not misunderstand this letter. I do not write it in any unkindness. I write it in order, if pos- sible, to get you to face the truth, which truth is, you are destitute because you have idled away all your time. Your thousand pretenses deceive nobody but yourself. Go to work is the only cure for your case." 186 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN Lincoln's devotion to his stepmother is nowhere better set forth than in this letter of his own, defending her from her own son : "Springfield, Nov. 25, 1851. "Dear Brother: Your letter of the 22nd is just received. Your proposal about selling the last forty acres is all that I could want or ask for myself, but I am not satisfied with it on Mother's account. I want her to have her living and I feel that it is my duty, to some extent, to see that she is not wronged. She had a right of dower (that is, use of one third for life) in the other two forties, but it seems she has already let you take that, hook and line. She now has the use of the whole east forty as long as she lives, and if it be sold of course she is entitled to the interest on all the money it brings as long as she lives ; but you pro- pose to sell it for three hundred dollars, take one hun- dred away with you and leave her two hundred at 8 per cent, making her the enormous sum of sixteen dollars a year ! Now, if you are satisfied with treating her in that way, / am not. It is true that you are to have that forty for two hundred dollars at Mother's death, but you are not to have it before. I am confident that the land can be made to produce for Mother at least $30 a year, and I cannot, to oblige any living person, consent that she be put on an allowance of sixteen dollars a year. "Yours, etc. "A. Lincoln." PART IV The "Slavery Question" "I know I am right because I know liberty is right.'' CHAPTER XXI LINCOLN OPENS FIRE ON SLAVERY Lincoln had returned from Washington in 1849 with just enough political disappointment to make him satisfied to settle down for a time into private life and law practice in Springfield. He was now senior mem- ber of the firm of Lincoln & Herndon, having taken as his junior partner William H. Herndon, formerly an ambitious young clerk in Joshua Speed's store, who had succeeded in being admitted to the bar, and who later devoted much time to a biography of Lincoln based on a painstaking assembling of various personal reminiscences. It was natural that Lincoln should now be consulted often in the filling of local offices, and equally to be expected that many a politician and office seeker pressed, upon him to urge their personal claims for appoint- ments. In handling such people Lincoln was always characteristically scrupulous in his political honesty and humorously tactful in his dealings, as is shown in this letter to the Secretary of State on one such recom- mendation : "Mr. Bond I know to be, personally, in every way worthy of the office; and he is very numerously and most respectably recommended. His papers I send to you; and I solicit for his claims a full and fair con- 189 190 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN sideration. Having said this much, I add, that, in my individual judgment, the appointment of Mr. Thomas would be better." That Lincoln was as scrupulous in his private prac- tice as in his recommendations for public offices, is illustrated by an incident which occurred in his law practice with Ward Lamon, who was, at one time, his partner. Mr. Lamon himself tells of this. A man named Scott placed with them a case which was to prevent an adventurer from marrying an insane girl in order to get possession of her $10,000. The girl was his sister, and he was trustee of her estate. He asked in advance what the fee would be, and Mr. Lamon said $250; but that he had better wait, for it might be less if the case proved an easy one to plead. Scott, however, expected that it would be a difficult case, and so insisted on the $250. The trial was over in twenty minutes, and Scott paid his money and was satisfied. When Lincoln heard of this, he was indignant at his partner. He considered the charge so unfair that he insisted he would not touch a penny of it. So Lamon finally had to return half of it to Mr. Scott, who was greatly surprised at such scruples. Judge Davis of the Circuit Court heard of this and told Lincoln that he was foolish to be so particular. "You will die as poor as Job's turkey," he said. Lincoln, however, felt that the money belonged to the demented girl and he said : "I would rather starve than swindle her in that way." LINCOLN OPENS FIRE ON SLAVERY 191 That evening some lawyers gave Lincoln a mock trial for keeping money from the pockets of his brethren of the bar by such actions. He took it all in good spirits and kept the crowd laughing at his sallies until late at night. He still maintained, though, that he would never join that traditional firm of lawyers, "Catchem & Cheatem." Lincoln's quick wit and ready humor were shown on another occasion when this same partner, Lamon, tore his trousers just before he had to plead a case. His coat was too short to cover the accident, and the other lawyers began to pass a mock subscription paper around "to buy a pair of pantaloons for Lamon.'' When it came to Lincoln he wrote, "I can contribute nothing to the end in view" The Ward Lamon of these stories is to be remem- bered as Marshal of the District of Columbia who was concerned for the personal safety of Lincoln during his Presidency. It was Mr. Lamon, who, with the famous detective Pinkerton, served as Lincoln's body- guard on his trip to Washington after election, of which more will be told later. The Presidency was still afar off. In the mean- while Lincoln continued on the circuit, and the nights he spent pleasantly when on these trips in intimacy with families in isolated cabins did more than he ever dreamed then, of welding popular sentiment in his be- half. There was not a cabin on the circuit in which he rocked the baby, gave the children candy, chopped firewood, and dined on buttermilk, cornbread and home smoked ham that did not later send forth at least one voter for his cause. Of this political expediency he 192 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN did not think then. It was the very sincerity of his enjoyment of cabin hospitality which won for him re- gard he would have lost at the least sign of patronage. Lincoln later became famed for his mercy when war president and the basis of this mercy was early seen in little things. One day while riding on horseback from one circuit court to another, Lincoln and several fellow lawyers, who were riding with him, came to a wide mud hole where, at one side of the road, they saw a pig stuck almost over its depth in deep mire near a rail fence. The more violently the pig struggled, the deeper and more hopelessly it sank into the mud, until it was plain to all that unless rescued, the animal would eventually slump down exhausted, and, held fast, might die there in the mud hole. Its struggles and squeals convulsed the lawyers and they guffawed heart- ily at the unfortunate pig's dilemma. Lincoln, how- ever, said compassionately, "Let us stop and help the poor thing out." At this the others roared louder than ever and shouted, "Oh, Abe, you're crazy! Your clothes would look fine for the courtroom, wouldn't they, after you hauled that filthy pig out?" They made such fun of Lincoln that he rode on witH them for quite a long distance. But his conscience bothered him. The pig's piteous squeals and frantic struggles lingered in his mind. Moreover, he knew only too well that a pig is too valuable a piece of property for a farmer to lose without feeling the loss acutely. He therefore drew up short and turned his horse around. "It's no use, boys," he said, "I won't be comfortable until I get that pig out. You go on and I'll overtake you." LINCOLN OPENS FIRE ON SLAVERY 193 He thereupon hurried back, and from a distance could hear the pig squealing vainly on the deserted country road. It was now so far in the mire and so surrounded by deep and sticky mud that to haul it out without smearing his clothes presented quite a little engineering problem for the lawyer. Lincoln helped himself to some fence rails, and laid them down to stand on. With a couple of other rails which he poked under the sunken animal he succeeded in prying it loose enough to pull out with his hands, and finally set the pig safe on dry grass inside the fence. There was mud all over Lincoln's coat and trousers and daubed upon his hands, but the curly-tailed pig re- stored to safety scampered home grunting shrilly in relief and gratitude. "Well," thought Lincoln, remounting and looking ruefully at his clothes, "let the boys laugh, I can get cleaned up again, the pig's safe and the farmer's chil- dren won't lack meat this winter." This story reminds one of a similar tale preserved by Joseph H. Barrett which he tells in this way : — "One day Lincoln, Baker, Hardin, Speed and others were riding on horseback along the road two-and-two some distance from Springfield. In passing a thicket of wild plum and crabapple trees, Lincoln and Hardin in the rear, the former discovered by the roadside two young birds not old enough to fly. They had been shaken from their nest by a recent gale. " The old bird,' said Mr. Speed, 'was fluttering about and wailing as a mother ever does for her babes. Lin- coln stopped, hitched his horse, caught the birds, hunted the nest, and placed them in it. The rest of us rode 194 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN on to a creek, and while the horses were drinking Hardin rode up. " Where is Lincoln ?' said one. " 'Oh, when I saw him last he had two little birds in his hand, looking for their nest/ " It is not surprising that a man thus tender-hearted would, even in war time, mercifully reprieve a prisoner or sleeping sentinel. So, in quiet Springfield days long before his plunge into war politics, Lincoln evinced those qualities for which he has become immortal, — humor, honesty, ten- derness, and his grip upon the hearts of plain people. It was during these days, in 1855, that Lincoln first met Edwin M. Stanton, later his Secretary of War. The two appeared as associate counsel with Geo. Harding for the defendant in a case before the United States Circuit Court in Cincinnati. As the plaintiff had but two attorneys and the defendant three, one of these three had to be dropped. The choice lay be- tween Lincoln and Stanton. Lincoln, to his keen dis- appointment, was dropped. But his chief chagrin came from the treatment which Stanton accorded him. He plainly showed his disdain and described Lincoln as "a long, lank crea- ture from Illinois, wearing a dirty duster for a coat, on the back of which the perspiration had splotched wide stains that resembled a map of the continent." He was so openly rude and sneering that Lincoln was deeply hurt and said, "I have never been so brutally treated as by that man Stanton." ,The acid Stanton, however, changed from an abusive LINCOLN OPENS FIRE ON SLAVERY 195 enemy of Lincoln's to his staunch friend, after Lin- coln, in the face of Stanton's bitterness, had the fore- sight and magnanimity to appoint him to the war Cabinet. The serene days in Springfield were to prove only the stillness before a storm. While quietly practicing law, the slavery question, like an alarm, broke in upon the Nation's peace, and Lincoln rose to the call. He was to lead a quiet life no more. The specific instance which roused Lincoln and de- cided him that it was now time for him to return to politics was the Repeal of the Missouri Compromise. In order to understand what now went on it is ob- viously necessary to know what the Missouri Com- promise was and just what its repeal involved. The complexities of this matter may be best grasped when boiled down to the fewest possible words. Briefly then, when Missouri wished to join the Union as a state this question rose : "Shall it be a slave state or a free state?" There was a battle in Congress over this; the House fought against slavery, then the Senate fought for it. There seemed to be alarming reason to believe that the Union would break up on that point then and there. To prevent this, a compromise was made, both sides yielding something. It was agreed on March 6, 1820, that Missouri should be admitted as a slave state but that all the rest of the territory north of latitude £6° 30' (which was Missouri's southern boundary ) j should always remain free. This was the Missouri Compromise. 196 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN Thirty- four years later Nebraska and Kansas of that free territory north of 36 30' applied for statehood. Stephen A. Douglas succeeded in introducing a bill declaring the Missouri Compromise void and proposing that all settlers in Nebraska and Kansas could exclude or establish slavery there as they desired. This "Kansas-Nebraska Bill" was passed in 1854 and con- stituted the Repeal of the Missouri Compromise. This Repeal so roused Lincoln that he flung himself into politics on this point with far-reaching results. So much for the state of affairs reduced to its simplest terms. As this subject affected Lincoln so profoundly, and as his influence upon the matter is the keynote to the rest of his life, and the future of the whole country, we cannot afford to skip over the topic too hastily. Let us, then, consider it a little more carefully. Two points emphasize themselves: 1. Why all the argument about slavery in a new state, why not let it settle itself? 2. Why did Missouri happen to be the bone of con- tention : why not some other state ? First of all it must be realized that the whole point of the argument was not "is slavery right or wrong?" but "has Congress a right to limit a state's own self- determination ?" Whether slavery was good or bad had technically nothing to do with the case. A good many Southern slave owners themselves felt that slavery was wrong and they often freed their own slaves of their own ac- cord. But these very owners were just as likely as not to uphold the idea, all the same, that each state LINCOLN OPENS FIRE ON SLAVERY 197 should decide for itself whether it should be slave or free without Congressional interference. In other words, they believed in "states' rights." They believed that the country should consist of a confederation of friendly separate and independent states, and not one solidified country ruled by one central government. It became not so much a question of moral right as a question whether the Federal Government should hereafter have power to dictate what each state must do. The South argued that each state should decide things for itself without Federal intervention. In the first place, the Union was an association of independent states. With the Nation's growth the problem was bound to rise as to how much power the one central government should exert. Sooner or later a decision had to be made as to how far each state could be independent of the Federal Government. It simply happened that this issue now hung up on the immediate problem of slavery. If states' rights and slavery had not happened to connect in this way it is not improb- able that eventually some of the many plans even then offered for gradual emancipation would have ulti- mately freed the slaves with no bloodshed. But the question of States' Rights vs. Federal Power would surely have risen again on some other point and Seces- sion threatened until this problem was decided once and for all. The Missouri Compromise was not so much a vic- tory for slavery supporters as it was the setting of a precedent for future Federal intervention in a state's self-determination. This was the important point. The Repeal of the Compromise was serious in its 198 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN implications of the power to set aside Federal decision. Now why was Missouri the crux of the situation ? To begin with, when the Thirteen Original States declared their independence and formed a union, the "Union" itself did not own territory, — the states them- selves individually owned it. For instance, Virginia owned the Northwestern Territory, that is, the land now cut up into the states of West Virginia, Ohio, Indiana, Michigan, Wisconsin. When the decision to cede this territory to the central government was made, Thomas Jefferson, compiler of the Declaration of Inde- pendence, a Virginian and slave owner, feeling that slavery was wrong, decided that it should be prevented from spreading into that Northwestern Territory. He therefore had Virginia cede her possessions to the Gen- eral Government with the stipulation that it be free of slavery forever. No question could rise therefore as to whether states made up of this free land should be slave or free. This territory was free from the beginning. Next came the Louisiana Purchase of French Terri- tory which added to the government the region even- tually divided into Louisiana, Arkansas, Missouri, Iowa, Minnesota, Kansas and Nebraska. No foregone conclusion as to its slavery status was made. When Missouri sought to join the Union, its settlers were already slave owners, and they wanted to enter as slave state. Anti-slavery interests in the North, seeking to limit slavery, brought up their petition against it in Congress and the tussle began. On the hotly contested point, the Union seemed about to break. ,The Compromise saved it for the time LINCOLN OPENS FIRE ON SLAVERY 199 being. Henry Clay, of Kentucky, was Chairman of the Joint Committee picked from House and Senate which drew up the Compromise, — his was the moving spirit of conciliation. Clay stood for emancipation to be put through gradually in order to preserve economic stability, and he advocated curtailing extension of slavery in new territory. His skill in handling the problem earned him the name of "The Great Con- ciliator.' ' His principles Lincoln adopted, and Clay may be regarded as Lincoln's master in statesmanship. With this Compromise the Democratic party split. One-half stood firm on non-interference with slavery, as protecting state government from Federal decision. This party, to which Jackson adhered, dominated the Senate. The other half, under Clay, absorbed the defunct Republican organization and eventually became the Whig party, which Lincoln supported. They were anti-slavenr to begin with and against territorial ex- tension of slavery besides. The old Democratic party which had originally been named "Republican" by Thomas Jefferson, its founder, resented the Whig's use of that name and -contemptuously referred to them as "Black Republicans" on account of their sympathy with the negroes. These two violent political forces were released for combat by the Missouri Compromise and were now further stirred by the reopening of dissension in the Repeal. There still remained another part of the country left open to the slavery contention. After the Mexican war, Mexican territory, including California, New 200 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN Mexico and Utah, was annexed. Gold diggers settled California and asked for admission to the Union as a free state. The old quarrel reopened. Another com- promise had to be effected, for again the solidity of the Union was at stake. This Compromise balanced things in this way: The North won California as a free state and the North secured abolition of slaves in the District of Columbia. The South, in turn, was granted its Fugitive Slave Law and the provision that on the entry of Utah and New Mexico they might be admitted with or without slavery as they saw fit. This was the Com- promise of 1850, and Clay was again the leader in compromising, although at this time he was seventy- two years old. The Compromise simply smoothed the situation down for the time being; obviously it must recur. Thomas Jefferson himself, in his old age, watched the struggle of the original Missouri Compromise and was alarmed for the Nation he had toiled so to help found. Although unfriendly to the institution of slavery itself he favored its extension into Missouri as it would "dilute and scatter the evil without increasing the number of slaves." He was deeply disturbed to watch the rise of parties based on geographical limits. He foresaw, even then, the danger ahead, and said, "From the Battle of Bunker Hill to the Treaty of Paris we never had so ominous a question. I thank God that I shall not live to witness the issue." Alarmed for the Nation's future, he prophesied, "The question sleeps for the present, but is not dead," and again, "This mo- mentous question, like a fire bell in the night, awakes me, and fills me with terror." LINCOLN OPENS FIRE ON SLAVERY 201 With what terror it was to fill the whole country we shall soon see. Kansas was to be a deciding factor in the struggle in Congress, for the balance had been broken by the admission of California. The South was determined to secure the Kansas vote and no sooner had President Pierce signed the Kansas-Nebraska bill than bands of armed slave-holders moved across the Missouri River into the new territory. To counteract this the New England Aid Society of Boston sent out armed settlers to found a town of Laurence farther west. Each of these two rival groups set up a state govern- ment, and raids from one band against the other were so frequent that the state was soon called "Bleeding Kansas." In addition, then, to the stand for state's sovereignty the South coupled the desperate conviction that pros- perity or ruin depended upon slavery. The North, where slave labor was less vitally essential to industry, hurled forth the declaration that slavery was sin. The South, its back to the wall, answered in grim stubborn- ness that it was a necessity and a divine institution. The slavery question was by itself of the utmost importance to Southern prosperity at the time. The whole economic fabric of Southern industry rested upon it. A disruption of this system threatened to put the South to ruin. Industry in the North did not depend upon slave labor as it did in the agricultural South. Tobacco growing, cotton picking, rice and sugar cane cultivation, the farming of thousand-acred plantations, all depended upon plentiful and cheap hand 202 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN labor. Without it (lacking to-day's machinery and expedients) cotton, tobacco, rice and sugar-growing could not go on profitably and plentifully. Northern and European markets would suffer ; the very livelihood of the South would be at stake. An entire revolution and immense reorganization of industry confronted the country. The solution of such a problem seemed so formidable that the South subordinated the question as to the moral right of slavery to the grim query as to how it could exist, and on what would the armies of freed slaves live, in a land where agriculture, the chief support, could hardly continue on its tremendous scale without slave labor. The issue therefore for which they grappled had these two distinct parts: the question of state sover- eignty and the question of slavery itself. In linking these into one problem the nation now sought to kill two birds with one stone. Lincoln threw all his powers into the fight- against slavery. He argued that slavery was not only wrong but that it was economically inexpedient, and that it could be done away with so gradually as not to dis- rupt industry. He spoke against slavery in various speeches from which these are excerpts : "Free labor has the inspiration of hope; pure slavery has no hope. The power of hope upon human exertion and happiness is wonderful. The slave master himself has a conception of it, and hence the system of tasks among slaves. The slave whom you cannot drive with the lash to break seventy-five pounds of hemp in a day, if you will ask him to break a hundred and promise LINCOLN OPENS FIRE ON SLAVERY 203 him pay for all he does over, will break you a hundred and fifty. You have substituted hope for the rod. "And yet perhaps it does not occur to you that to the extent of your gain in the case you have given up the slave system and adopted the free system of labor." In another early speech he says : "If A can prove, however conclusively, that he may of right enslave B, why may not B snatch the same ar- gument and prove equally that he may enslave A ? You say A is white and B is black. It is color then; the lighter having the right to enslave the darker? Take care ! By this rule you are to be slave to the first man you meet with a fairer skin than your own ! You do not mean color, exactly? You mean the whites are intellectually the superiors of the blacks, and therefore have the right to enslave them ? Take care again ! By this rule you are to be slave to the first man you meet with an intellect superior to your own ! But, say you, it is a question of interest, and if you make it your interest you have the right to enslave another. Very well. And if he can make it his interest he has the right to enslave your So much for his attitude on slavery itself. In his own words he gives the follow- ing opinion of states' rights in self-government on the matter. Speaking of the Kansas-Nebraska bill he says : "The territory is what Jefferson foresaw and in- tended — the happy home of teeming millions of free, white, prosperous people, and no slave among them. But now a new light breaks upon us. Now Congress declares this ought never to have been, and the like of it must never be again. The sacred right of self -gov- 204 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN ernment is grossly violated by it. We even find some men who drew their first breath — and every other breath of their lives — under this restriction and now live in dread of absolute suffocation if they should be restricted in the 'sacred right' of taking slaves to Nebraska. That perfect liberty they sigh for — the lib- erty of making slaves of other people — Jefferson never thought of, their own fathers never thought of — they never thought of themselves a year ago!" The excitement over Kansas grew throughout the country until it amounted to a frenzy. The slave- holders had formed a mob and seized the new state, burned the capitol, jailed the governor, and intimidated the voters. In Illinois a Republican Convention opened to organize the party there. The audience was intense in its feeling, but to be dynamic, the meeting needed ' some great personality to guide it, inspire it, and har- i monize the discordant elements. Man after man spoke | to no purpose. Finally there were calls of "Lincoln I" "Lincoln!" The crowd took it up until at last a tall figure at the back of the hall stood up and started down the aisle. As he faced his audience, a change came over his face. He felt the importance of the moment. It was a crisis in his life. As Lincoln began to speak there was a hush of sus- pense with an undercurrent of suppressed excitement as if some premonition pervaded the hall that his words would prove momentous to the entire nation. From his first words he held the company so spellbound that a truly remarkable thing happened. The hall was full of newspaper reporters who were ready to take down his speech, but their attention was so riveted by Lincoln's LINCOLN OPENS FIRE ON SLAVERY 205 magnetism and rush of words that they listened ab- sorbed and forgot all else. Not one reporter in the whole hall took down a word of the speech! After it, as they came back to a realization of their surround- ings, each was alarmed to find he had made not a scratch of a memorandum on a speech that was national news, but in a few minutes they were all relieved to find that no other reporter had "scooped" them, for every one was so lost in Lincoln's words that not one wrote them down. Lincoln had spoken unprepared on the spur of the moment and at white heat. He had no record of his words either, and so this unusual and stirring oration became known as "The Lost Speech." It probably carried more force with its notoriety for this than it could if it had been given word for word. John L. Scripps wrote home to his paper, the Chi- cago Tribune: "Never was an audience more completely electrified by human eloquence. Again and again dur- ing its delivery they sprang to their feet and upon the benches and testified by long-continued shouts and wav- ing of hats how deeply the speaker had wrought upon their minds and hearts. It fused the mass of incon- gruous elements into perfect homogeneity; and from that day to the present they have worked together in harmonious and fraternal union." As the excited crowd was passing riotously out, Jesse K. Dubois, who had just been nominated State Auditor, squeezed the arm of Henry C. Whitney (later Lincoln's biographer) in a painful grip and cried, "That is the greatest speech ever made in Illinois and puts Lincoln on the track for the Presidency !" Of this unusual speech only parts have been pieced 206 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN together, only some phrases and fragments preserved. It was the same Henry C. Whitney, a young attorney associated with Lincoln on the circuit who made the effort to put down what he remembered of it, amplified by what he gleaned from others who heard it, and his version of its conclusion follows : "We must restore the Missouri Compromise! We must highly resolve that Kansas shall be free! (Great applause.) We must reinstate the birthday promise of the Republic; we must reaffirm the Declaration of In- dependence; we must make good in essence as well as in form Madison's avowal that 'the word slave ought not to appear in the Constitution/ and we must even go further and decree that only local law and not that time-honored instrument shall shelter the slave-holder. "We must make this a land of liberty in fact as it is in name. But in seeking to attain these results — so indispensable if the liberty which is our pride and boast shall endure — we will be loyal to the Constitution and to 'the Flag of our Union/ and no matter what our grievance — even though Kansas shall come in as a slave state — and no matter what theirs — even if we restore the Compromise" (here his voice rose in that climax which gives the key to the whole Civil War situation) "we will say to the Southern disunionists, we won't gO OUT OF THE UNION AND YOU SHAN' J !" CHAPTER XXII THE GREAT LINCOLN-DOUGLAS DEBATES Lincoln's "Lost Speech" won him instant promi- nence. Twenty days after it the National Republican Convention presented his name as nominee for Vice- President. When news of this reached him he was not in Phila- delphia at the Convention, but back in Illinois quietly following Judge Davis, — the Davis who had reproved him for charging such low fees as kept him "poor as Job's turkey" — around on the circuit. One of the lawyers on the circuit with him was Henry C. Whitney who tells how he and Judge Davis, with Lincoln and some other lawyers were putting up at the village "hotel" in Urbana during court session. There was a loud, large breakfast gong at this inn which too often shattered their early morning sleep, and Whitney, Judge Davis and the others mischie- vously elected Lincoln to do away with the noisy in- strument. On the day that news of his nomination reached him Lincoln had left court early and slipped quietly into the hotel dining room to kidnap the offen- sive gong. He was just hurrying out with it hidden under his coat when Whitney and Davis rushed upon him waving a copy of the Chicago Tribune that bore the news that his name had received no votes for the Vice-Presidency. Caught with the gong under his 207 208 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN coat like a mischievous schoolboy, Lincoln was stopped by Davis with the newspaper. Jesse W. Weik describes the scene thus : " 'Great business this/ chuckled Davis, 'for a man who aspires to be Vice-President of the United States/ "Lincoln only smiled. 'Davis and 1/ declared Whit- ney, 'were greatly excited, but Lincoln was listless and indifferent. His only response was : "Surely it ain't me ! There's another great man named Lincoln down in Massachusetts. I reckon it's him." ' " Lincoln, of course, was not nominated, his party lost the Presidential election to the Democrats in favor of Buchanan and Breckenridge and so the years 1856 and 1857 passed. Then came the clash of the great debates which were of such import and involved two men of such might that they have been termed "The Battles of the Giants." In 1858 our old acquaintance and Lincoln's long- standing rival, Stephen A. Douglas, finished his Wash- ington term as Senator and it fell to Illinois to elect another for this place. Douglas, on the Democratic ticket, ran again and on the 16th of June by unanimous vote Abraham Lincoln was nominated as "the first and only choice of the Republicans of Illinois for U. S. Senator as the successor of Stephen A. Douglas." This was not merely a state issue — the entire country focussed upon the outcome because Lincoln and Doug- las personified the two sides of that tremendous prob- lem which now threatened the Union. Lincoln was fighting for the restoration of the Missouri Compro- mise and all that it involved for the nation's future; Douglas blocked him with its Repeal and all that im- GREAT LINCOLN-DOUGLAS DEBATES 209 plied. The election of either one of these men as Senator was no little local issue. Now Douglas, a short man of great accomplishment, had often been called 'The Little Giant." A political friend of Lincoln's when asked, "Who is this man run- ning against Senator Douglas?" answered, "Well, we have two giants in Illinois instead of one; Douglas is the little one you all know. Lincoln is the big one." The "big giant" and the "little one" now began their battle. Lincoln opened his campaign with a declaration that was startlingly radical to the country then — "the Union cannot permanently endure half slave, half free !" This idea electrified the country. There had, of course, been talk of "secession," that is, that the slave states might sever their connection with the union, but the idea that some compromise would not eventually succeed in holding them together so that the country could continue "half slave, half free," had not yet at- tained a serious general acceptance. Lincoln went on : " 'A house divided against itself cannot stand/ I believe the government cannot permanently endure half slave, half free. I do not expect the union to be dis- solved — I do not expect the house to fall — but I do expect that it will cease to be divided. It will become all one thing or all the other!" Speaking of the crucial Kansas-Nebraska bill, he claimed that its theory of "Squatter Sovereignty," "otherwise called the 'sacred right of self-government/ . . . (though expressive of the only rightful basis of any government) was so perverted in the attempted use 210 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN of it as to amount to just this : That if any man choose to enslave another, no third man shall be allowed to object/' These brief quotations give Lincoln's whole attitude in a nutshell. Naturally Douglas at once opened fire for the op- position. He began his canvass with a speech in Chicago in which he patronizingly referred to Lincoln as "a kind, amiable, intelligent gentleman/' Lincoln himself was present at this meeting, and several seeing him there began to shout, "Speech! Speech!" Lincoln rose and announced that he would speak in reply in the same place the next night. Most of the audience returned but Douglas contemptuously absented himself and went to the theater instead. Douglas next spoke at Bloomington, the scene of Lincoln's famous "Lost Speech." Lincoln again was present and a few hours later rendered a vigorous re- buttal to Douglas' speech. This kept up, meeting after meeting : Douglas speak- ing, Lincoln in the audience, arms folded, listening — preparing to answer promptly. Judge Douglas grew ] furious at this method of Lincoln's for confusing him, i and, as Lincoln termed it, being "put out about it" he gave vent to his feelings in some pretty harsh words, to which Lincoln referred in his next address in this way: " T am informed that my distinguished friend yes- terday became a little excited, nervous (?) perhaps, and he said something about fighting, as though looking to a personal encounter between himself and me. Did GREAT LINCOLN-DOUGLAS DEBATES 211 anybody in this audience hear him use such language ?' ('Yes, yes/) 'I am informed further that somebody in his audience, rather more excited or nervous than himself, took off his coat and offered to take the job off Judge Douglas's hands and fight Lincoln himself. Did anybody here witness that warlike proceeding ?' (Laughter and cries of 'Yes !') 'Well, I merely desire to say that I shall fight neither Judge Douglas nor his second. I shall not do this for two reasons, which I will explain. In the first place, a fight would prove nothing which is in issue in this election. It might establish that Judge Douglas is a more muscular man than myself or it might show that I am a more muscu- lar man than Judge Douglas. But this subject is not referred to in the Cincinnati platform, nor in either of the Springfield platforms. Neither result would prove him right or me wrong. And so of the gentleman who offered to do his fighting for him. If my fighting Judge Douglas would not prove anything, it would cer- tainly prove nothing for me to fight his bottle-holder. " 'My second reason for not having a personal en- counter with Judge Douglas is that I don't believe he wants it himself. He and I are about the best friends in the world, and when we get together he would no more think of fighting me than of fighting his wife. ■Therefore, when the Judge talked about fighting he was not giving vent to any ill-feeling of his own, but was merely trying to excite— well, let us say en- thusiasm against me on the part of his audience. And, as I find he was tolerably successful in this, we will call it quits !' " The speech-and-answer battle continued, however, 212 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN until it resulted in Lincoln's closing in upon Douglas and challenging him point-blank to debate. When Douglas received this challenge he confided to some friends: "I do not feel, between you and me, that I want to go into this debate. The whole country knows me and has me measured. Lincoln, as regards myself, is com- paratively unknown and if he gets the best of this debate — and I want to say he is the ablest man the Republicans have got — I shall lose everything and Lin- coln will gain everything. Should I win, — I shall gain but little. I do not want to go into this debate with Abe." The Douglas constituents urged the candidate on in spite of his unwilling "I shall have my hands full. He is the strong man of his party — full of dry wit, facts, dates — and the best stump speaker, with his droll ways and dry jokes, in the West. He is as honest as he is shrewd and if I beat him, my victory will be hardly won." At another time he burst out — "Of all the damned Whig rascals about Springfield, Abe Lincoln is the ablest and most honest 1" On the other side, Lincoln was unfavorably compar- ing himself with Douglas thus : "With me the race of ambition has been a failure — flat failure. With him it has been one of splendid success. "Senator Douglas is of world-wide renown. All the anxious politicians of the party . . . have been looking upon him as certainly, at no distant day, to be Presi- dent of the United States. They have seen in his GREAT LINCOLN-DOUGLAS DEBATES 213 round, jolly, fruitful face, post-offices, land offices, marshalships and cabinet appointments, chargeships and foreign missions, bursting and sprouting out in wonderful exuberance, ready to be laid hold of by their greedy hands. "On the contrary, nobody has ever expected me to be President! In my poor lean, lank face nobody has ever seen that any cabbages were sprouting. These are disadvantages, all taken together, that the Republicans labor under. We have to fight this battle upon prin- ciple and principle alone! 3 A series of debates between these men, so different, so vigorous and championing such vital theories drew the attention of the whole country. There was no escape for Douglas, he had to accept the challenge whether he wanted to or not. Seven debates were arranged to fall between August 2 1 st and October 15th, 1858, in the following places which can be found upon what must now, in tracing Lincoln's activities, be a very thumb-worn map of Illinois. 1. Ottawa — Aug. 21. 2. Freeport (near the Wisconsin border) — Aug. 27. 3. Jonesboro (extreme south of state) — Sept. 15. 4. Charleston — (150 miles n.e. of Jonesboro) — Sept. 18. 5. Galesburg — Oct. 7. 6. Quincy — Oct. 13. 7. Alton — Oct. 15. By finding these spots on the map it can be realized how thoroughly the whole state was to be "stumped." 214 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN To get from point to point for these debates in- volved the most tedious traveling, for railroad service was faulty and the journey had to be completed often by getting out of a train and taking some little river steamer, and then driving from the landing out across the prairie with horse and buggy. Henry C. Whitney accompanied Lincoln on these trips as a sort of aide. Travel was extremely difficult for even if Lincoln managed to get a chair, so many small politicians would intrude on him that he could scarcely catch a moment's sleep. He would be worn out by the time he had to meet Douglas. Once there was an empty car hitched to the end of the train and Mr. Whitney tried to get the conductor to unlock it so that Lincoln could get a little rest. Although both men were attorneys for the road, the conductor refused. Whitney got him in by stratagem later. While this was going on the vice-president of the road, the Illinois Central, was taking Douglas around in a special car! In this way Douglas was generally whirled trium- phantly past Lincoln who had to sit side-tracked in a crowded local or even sometimes in a freight car, while the elegant "special'' sped by, banners flying, with all ] the pomp of "right of way." One day, when Lincoln j leaned out of the caboose window of a side-tracked freight train and watched the gayly decorated "Douglas Special" whiz by, he laughed good humoredly and re- marked, "The gentleman in that car evidently smelled no royalty in our carriage !" The contrast between the entrance of Douglas and Lincoln to the actual meetings was as sharp as between GREAT LINCOLN-DOUGLAS DEBATES 215 their modes of travel. Along the way brass bands met Douglas as he approached in his decorated coach, gay with banners and pennants. He was greeted with a gun salute and parade. Lincoln, on the other hand, despised show and racket and always protested against these "fizzlegigs and fireworks." He kicked, struggled and cried, "Don't, boys ! Quit ! Put me down !" when enthusiasts attempted to hoist him to their shoulders and march him up to the platform. Sometimes he rode to meeting on horseback; some- times a welcoming committee of Republicans, in an effort to contrast their methods with the grandeur of Douglas, would drive Lincoln after the festive Douglas parade in a plain bare hay cart. The assemblages be- fore which Lincoln and Douglas spoke were surpris- ingly enormous. Crowds of twenty thousand gathered at times, the people traveling so as to get there the night before. All manner of fakirs followed these crowds and gath- ered on the outskirts selling pain-killers, and lemon- ade, while jugglers gave side-shows, and beggars pushed in and out, all to the tune of "Hail, Columbia, Happy Land," or some other rousing tune pounded out by the local brass band. The opening debate, before the throngs at Ottawa, began at half-past two in the afternoon. In A Battle of the Giants, Frederick Trevor Hill describes this pre- liminary clash of the champions, and tells how "a short, stout, but powerfully built man forced his way through the crowd, and stepping to the edge of the platform, bowed gracefully to the cheering multitudes. There were confidence and complete self-possession in his 216 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN every movement — confidence and determination in the glance he cast at his awkward rival." Douglas then proceeded with a speech so captivating and so enthusiastically received that Lincoln's sup- porters felt their spirits droop. Lincoln then rose, and tossing his rumpled linen duster across the arm of a bystander remarked, "Hold my coat while I stone Stephen !" He stepped to the platform and presented a dismal contrast to the trig figure of the Judge. Mr. Hill de- scribes him in turn : "His long lank figure was clothed in garments as rusty and ill-fitting as the Judge's were fresh and well-made. His coarse black hair was disheveled, his sad anxious face displayed no confi- dence, his posture was an ungainly stoop." The throngs who edged closer in anticipation of Lincoln's well-known propensity for funny stories and rippling anecdotes were disappointed. He did not feel funny — he was swept away by his own earnestness and within a few moments carried the audience soberly with him. This debate, as he had said, he argued "on prin- ciple and on principle alone." It was here at Ottawa that Douglas began his own undoing by putting seven questions to Lincoln to an- swer. Lincoln retaliated by putting four questions to Douglas at the next meeting in Freeport. One of these questions was a trap into which Douglas fell. It tripped Douglas into an unfortunate answer regarding the "Dred Scott Decision" and in order to understand this we must stop a minute and see what this decision was. Dred Scott was a slave belonging to a Missouri army GREAT LINCOLN-DOUGLAS DEBATES 217 surgeon, one Dr. Emerson, who was stationed for a time in the free state of Illinois and later at Fort Snelling in that territory north of the fateful 36 30' which later became Minnesota. After two years on free soil the doctor returned with his slaves to P is- souri and sold Scott. Thereupon Dred Scott sue freedom on the ground that he had been illegal!. on territory made free by the Missouri Compro, He won his case in the first trial but it was appealed and carried on and on from court to court until at last it reached the Supreme Court of the United States and here its final decision became momentous. In the Supreme Court, before nine justices, five of whom rep- resented slave states, the decision was finally announced by Chief Justice Taney as against Scott. He was de- clared still a slave. From that point on the personal fate of Dred Scott himself is of little interest. As a matter of fact, he and his family were afterwards all set free by their owner. The true significance of Court's decision was this: It declared the Missouri Compromise null and void, stating that Congress had no power to deny slavery in any territory. The situation now stood like this : The Missouri Compromise had declared the territory north of 36 30' free. The Kansas-Nebraska bill revoked this and left the slavery question open for settlers there to decide for themselves. The Dred Scott decision went further than this, by declaring that wherever slavery had already crept in, there it should forever remain and Congress had no right to exclude it. In other words, the substance of 218 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN that court decision is embodied in this terse extract from Lincoln's first great debate speech : "If any man choose to enslave another, no third man shall be allowed to object." Now the Republican Party was based on the very principle that Congress had power to prohibit slavery in the territories, a power which the Supreme Court now denied. The Republicans therefore argued that the Supreme Court had made an erroneous decision in the Dred Scott case. Lincoln now proceeded to trip up Douglas on this very point. He asked : "Can the people of a United States Territory, . . . against the wish of any citizen of the United States exclude slavery from its limits prior to the formation of a State Constitution?" In other words, "Can the 'third man' legally object?" If Douglas answered "yes" he would affirm the Re- publican interpretation of the Scott decision as erroneous and lose the Southern Democratic vote. At the same time he would please his Illinois constituents who denied that slavery had already taken root in the territories, and in pleasing them he would win the Senatorship and defeat Lincoln on that immediate issue. Seeing this, Lincoln's supporters begged him to withdraw the question for fear Douglas would answer in the affirmative and win the present campaign. Lin- coln replied that to get Douglas to answer affirmatively was exactly what he wanted. "If he does that," said Lincoln, "he will never be President." A First National Picture. The Dramatic Life of Abraham Lincoln. THE FAMILY AT THE WHITE HOUSE. GREAT LINCOLN-DOUGLAS DEBATES 219 "Yes, but he may be Senator," his friends objected. "Perhaps," said Lincoln, "but I am after larger game: the battle of i860 is worth a hundred of this." It is thus seen that Lincoln now hoped definitely for the Presidency. Caught in a thunderstorm, one night during this cam- paign, prior to the debates, Lincoln had sought refuge in an empty freight where his friend Henry Villard was also taking shelter. In the talk that followed dur- ing the storm Mr. Villard quotes Lincoln as confiding that his highest political ambition in his days as country store clerk had been to reach the State Legislature. " 'Since then/ he said laughingly, 'I have grown some, but my friends got me into this business ! I did not consider myself qualified for the United States Senate and it took me a long time to persuade myself that I was. Now to be sure I am convinced that I am good enough for it, but in spite of all I am saying to myself every day, "It's too big a thing for you. You will never get it." Mary insists however that I am going to be Senator and President of the United States too!' These last words he followed with a roar of laughter, with his arms around his knees, shaking all over at his wife's ambition." This is how Lincoln felt before the debates. But by the time he reached the second debate it is plain to be seen that he had outgrown his earlier fears and now accepted his wife's prophecy. Indeed, it would be inter- esting to have insight into Mary Todd Lincoln's sensa- tions during this combat between her old rivals. Lincoln, then, was hoping to trap Douglas by his 220 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN question, into losing the future Presidency, though gain the present Senatorship he might. The trap proved successful. Douglas made answer : "It matters not what way the Supreme Court may hereafter decide as to abstract questions as to whether slavery may or may not go into a Territory under the Constitution. The people have the lawful means to introduce or exclude it as they please." This was an adroit piece of sophism which appears on the face of it to appease either party, but virtually it gave the Northern interpretation, offended the South, and cost him the slave holders'* support thereafter. In doing this, however, he indorsed the sentiments of the Illinois Free State Democrats who. supported the Aboli- tion attitude toward extension of slavery into the terri- tories. In another moment Douglas realized his slip and struggled desperately to make up for his tactical blunder. He found that he had practically denied the Dred Scott decision and said, "Yes, a third man may object." Confused and angry at being thus caught, Douglas was again "put out" and resorted to bitter personal attacks on Lincoln, not hesitating to misrepre- sent facts to Lincoln's disadvantage. At the Charles- ton meeting Douglas accused Lincoln of having voted in Congress against appropriation for supplies to carry on the Mexican War. This angered Lincoln who burst out: "This is a perversion of facts! I was opposed to the policy of the administration in declaring war against Mexico but when war was declared I never failed to vote for the support of any proposition look- GREAT LINCOLN-DOUGLAS DEBATES 221 ing to the comfort of our poor fellows who were main- taining the dignity of our flag in a war that I thought unnecessary and unjust." Now there was seated on the platform behind the debaters, Mr. O. B. Ficklin, a Douglas supporter who happened to have served with Lincoln in Congress at the time of the Mexican War and Lincoln now excitedly seized Ficklin by the collar and lifted him forward, unceremoniously, shouting : "Fellow citizens, here is Ficklin who was at that time in Congress with me and" (shaking Ficklin emphati- cally by the neck) "he knows it is a lie!" After the meeting, Ficklin, who was a good friend of Lincoln's, rubbed his neck, laughing, and said, "Abe, you nearly shook all the Democracy out of me to-day !" From then on, fireworks sputtered and crackled be- tween the debaters. At the next debate, in Galesburg, Douglas indulged in a rabid attack on Lincoln's career, saying savagely that Lincoln had tried everything and failed at everything. He said that Lincoln had tried farming and failed; tried school teaching and failed; tried military life and failed; tried saloon keeping and failed; tried law and failed, and now he was trying politics and making the biggest failure of all. This kind of thing was exactly what Lincoln knew well how to handle with ridicule. Instead of allowing his anger to become noticeable, he laughed outright, and stepping forward he convulsed the audience by saying that all Judge Douglas's remarks were true but "there is just one thing he forgot to tell you. He says that I sold liquor over a counter. He forgot to tell you that while I was on one side of the counter, he was on the other!" This reference to the Judge's too well-known weakness 222 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN sent the audience into such shouts and hoots and howls that it was some time before order could be restored. Douglas was no match for Lincoln's quick drollery, once Lincoln was roused and Douglas had roused him now. In retort to another sally of his rival's Lincoln made answer: "Fellow-citizens, my friend, Judge Douglas, made the startling announcement to-day that the Whigs are all dead. If that be so, fellow-citizens, you will now experience the novelty of hearing a speech from a dead man; and I suppose you might properly say in the language of the old hymn : " 'Hark ! from the tombs a doleful sound !' " So the lively struggle continued. The sixth debate took place at Quincy. Lincoln traveled there in quiet, modest style, and even pro- tested against riding to his destination from the station. "I'd rather foot it to Browning's," he asserted, for he was hoping to pass a calm night with this old friend. Douglas on the contrary always was accompanied by a retinue of servants, a secretary, and many rather loud friends, in a special train hung with banners and bunting. But there was no quiet night for Lincoln, as the country people from miles around were already gath- ering for the debate, and the town was full of Demo- crats and Republicans, cheering and singing and argu- ing ; and all the brass bands in the county were tooting and blaring till the small hours. A long pine-board platform had been set up in the public square, and the next afternoon there were sev- eral thousand people gathered in front of it for the debate. They were a good-natured crowd on the GREAT LINCOLN-DOUGLAS DEBATES 223 whole, but the enthusiasm of their cheers when their respective champions arrived proved how intensely in- terested they were. Two more contrasting types have seldom faced each other on the same platform. Standing beside the tall, spare frame of Lincoln, Douglas appeared almost a dwarf, short and thick-set. There was a certain pug- naciousness and obstinacy about him that showed great strength and staying power, and in spite of a slight puffiness about his eyes, the result of recent drinking with his friends, he was a formidable opponent. During Lincoln's speech he sat smiling contemptu- ously. When he rose, it was with an air of sneering superiority. His voice was deep and powerful and he fairly thundered out his violent invectives against his rival, shaking his fists, and stamping his feet. Lin- coln's friends were angered by his insolent and over- bearing tone, but his adherents applauded lustily at his conclusion. Then Lincoln gave his closing speech of half an hour, in which he showed his great tact in handling a ticklish situation. His tone was so good-humored, his witty illustrations so pat and to the point, his argu- ments so piercing and quick, that the whole meeting, opponents and all, burst into cheers of delight again and again. The scowl on the face of Douglas grew darker and darker, and the triumph of the day went to Lincoln. After these encounters, Lincoln, the country man and one-time "barefoot boy," liked to relax in his own old- fashioned way. Back in his own hotel room Lincoln would stretch out with his big shoes kicked off, remark- 224 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN ing, "I like to give my feet a chance to breathe." Douglas, on the other hand, sought relaxation in the whiskey flask. Thoroughly tired out at last, both men locked horns in the seventh and final encounter at Alton in the middle of crisp October. Alton, by the way, was the spot where twenty-one years before the Rev. E. P. Lovejoy of St. Louis, editor of an anti-slavery paper, had been murdered by a pro-slavery mob. Here Lincoln made his last stand of the campaign with these forceful words in behalf of the principle for which the minister had died. "Is slavery wrong ? That is the real issue. That is the issue that will continue in this country when these poor tongues of Judge Douglas and myself shall be silent. It is the eternal struggle between these two principles — right and wrong — throughout the world. They are two principles that have stood face to face from the beginning of time and will ever continue to struggle. The one is the common right of humanity, and the other the divine right of kings. It is the same principle in whatever shape it develops itself. It is the same spirit that says : " 'You work and toil and earn bread and I'll eat it. . . ; "Has anything ever threatened the existence of the Union save and except this very institution of slavery? What is it that we hold most dear among us ? Our own liberty and prosperity. What has ever threatened our liberty and prosperity except this institution of slavery? If this is true how do you propose to improve things GREAT LINCOLN-DOUGLAS DEBATES 225 by enlarging slavery ? By spreading it out and making it bigger ? That is no proper way of treating what you regard as wrong I" The campaign was over and its immediate result was that Douglas won the election to the Senate. Lincoln's disappointment he expressed characteristically in the remark that he felt 'like the boy who stumped his toe — 'it hurt too bad to laugh and he was too big to cry!' " The outcome meant more of a loss to Lincoln's per- sonal finances than to his future political prospects however. He bore the brunt of campaign expenses out of his own pocket, and as he ruefully expressed it, there was "no bar'l of money'' in it for him. He had been months out of business, and as he wrote to the Repub- lican State Chairman : "I have been on expense so long without earning anything that I am absolutely without money now even for household expenses." Here Mary Lincoln's loyal support of her husband can very well be appreciated, for few things are more trying to ambition than lack of funds "for even house- hold expenses." Lincoln's attitude had been steadfast from first to last. He had said in July : "I do not claim, gentlemen, to be unselfish. I do not pretend that I would not like to go to the United States Senate. I make no such hypocritical pretense; but I do say to you that in this mighty issue it is nothing to you, nothing to the mass of the people of this nation, whether or not Judge Douglas or myself shall ever be heard of after this night. It may be a 226 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN trifle to either of us, but in connection with this mighty- question, upon which hangs the destinies of the nation, it is absolutely nothing." After the election was all over in November he wrote : "I am glad I made the late race. It gave me a hear- ing on the great and durable question of the age which I would have had in no other way ; and though I now sink out of view and shall be forgotten, / believe I have made some marks which shall tell for the cause of civil liberty long after I am gone" CHAPTER XXIII NOMINATED FOR PRESIDENCY After the great debates it was only natural that Lincoln was called upon to speak in various states, and he was now invited by Republicans to address audiences in the East as well as in his more familiar West. Lin- coln^ national popularity was obviously growing. In February, i860, some young political enthusiasts in New York City wanted a speaker who could be de- pended upon to make a lecture successful. Lincoln was recommended and invited. He accepted and attempted his first New York speech at Cooper Institute. Lin- coln came promptly to New York and his ready con- versation and flow of anecdotes soon relieved the com- mittee of any anxiety as to his ability as a talker. He was promptly invited home with one hospitable com- mitteeman, but refused on the ground that he thought he had better stay quietly in his modest hotel room where he would "have a chance to think." He said he was afraid he had made a mistake after all in accept- ing the New York invitation and began to doubt his powers to make the city speech a success. "I shall have to devote my whole time to it or I fear I shall fail," he said, "and in that case I should feel very sorry for the young men who have so kindly called me." It is most satisfactory to let Russell H. Conwell who 227 228 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN was present at this speech describe the event in his own words : "We went to Cooper Institute and there was a crowd, as there always was at Beecher's church. We finally got on the stairway and far in the rear of the great crowd. My brother stood on the floor and I sat on the ledge of the window sill with my feet on his shoulders while I told him down there what was going on over yonder. The first man who came on the platform and presided was William Cullen Bryant, our dear old neighbor. ... He took his seat on the stage, the right of which was left vacant for some one yet to come. Next came a very heavy man but immediately follow- ing him a tall, lean man. "Mr. Bryant arose and went toward him bowing and smiling. He was an awkward specimen of a man and all about me people were asking, 'Who is that?' But no one seemed to know. I asked a gentleman who that man was but he said he didn't know. He was an awk- ward specimen indeed : one of the legs of his trousers was up about two inches above his shoe ; his hair was disheveled and stuck out like a rooster's feathers, his coat was altogether too large for him in the back ; his j arms much longer than his sleeves, and with his legs | twisted around the rungs of the chair he was the pic- ture of embarrassment. "When Mr. Bryant arose to introduce the speaker of the evening he was known seemingly to few in that great hall. Mr. Bryant said : " 'Gentlemen of New York, it is great honor that is conferred upon me to-night, for I can introduce you to the next President of the United States, Abraham Lin-; NOMINATED FOR PRESIDENCY 229 coin.' Then through that audience flew the query as to who Abraham Lincoln was. There was but weak applause. "Mr. Lincoln had in his hand a manuscript. He had written it with great care and exactness, and the speech which you read in his biography is the one that he wrote, not the one that he delivered, as I recall it. "He had read three pages and had gone on to the fourth when he lost his place and began to tremble and stammer. He then turned it over two or three times, threw the manuscript upon the table, and, as they say in the West, 'let himself go.' "Now the stammering man who had created only silent derision up to that point, suddenly flashed out into an angel of oratory and the awkward arms and disheveled hair were lost sight of entirely in the won- derful beauty and lofty inspiration of that magnificent address. The great audience immediately began to follow his thought and when he uttered that quotation from Frederick Douglass (the colored orator) : ' Tt is written in the sky of America that the slaves shall be some day free/ he had settled the question that he was to be the next President of the United States. The applause was so great that the building trembled and I felt the windows shake behind me." This famous speech of Lincoln's had for its subject iisagreement with Stephen A. Douglas's statement that the founders of the Constitution forbade Federal :ontrol of slavery in Territories. During his discourse Lincoln made clear his attitude toward John Brown (whose "body lies a-moldering in the grave")— the mistaken individual who derived 230 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN much undeserved sympathy and fame. It is interest- ing, since his name remains immortal in the song, to pause a moment to examine John Brown's acts and learn Lincoln's attitude toward them. The kindest thing that can be said about John Brown is that he was an unbalanced religious fanatic. Brown had come from the East to join his sons who were early settlers in "Bleeding Kansas." His fanaticism included an obsession to make Kansas a free state, and he believed that the only way to do this was to set about killing slave owners, because as he said : "With- out shedding of blood there is no remission of sins." In the general lawlessness that made Kansas "bleed" some Free-staters had been killed. This unsettled Brown's temper. He organized a night raid with his sons and some other easily influenced lawless followers, and started on a bloody round. From one farmhouse to another they went, called the men of the houses to their doors and shot them down. There was no at- tempt at revenge on such particular men as had been implicated in the slaying of the Free-staters. The rioters simply went to the home of any man known to be of pro-slavery interest, and him they promptly shot. One man they hauled from the bedside of his sick wife and in spite of her frantic pleadings they killed him in front of his house and marched on to the next farm. Before their gruesome night's work was done six or seven men were killed and left sprawl- ing in their blood in their dooryards. Nothing was done about it. This "massacre of Pottawatomie" was all part of the reign of terror in "Bleeding Kansas," wW Nearly two hundred people were slain within NOMINATED FOR PRESIDENCY 231 one year. This was in 1855. Brown followed it by a raid into Missouri where he captured a dozen slaves whom he took safely to Canada. His famous and final Harper's Ferry attack took place in the spring of 1859, a year before Lincoln's Cooper Institute speech. Here he had plotted an uprising among slaves who were to slay the whites, for which purpose he had smuggled arms to them. Nothing more horrible than rousing a black insur- rection could have terrified Virginia, which still shud- dered at memory of the Nat Turner insurrection of 183 1. In this, Nat, a negro, had incited the slaves to slaughter and sixty-one white people (chiefly women and little children) suffered their savagery. There had been a growing sentiment against slavery in Virginia and after the Nat Turner tragedy the Virginia legis- lature seriously considered emancipation. Indeed few Northern States ever denounced slavery as Virginia denounced it then in a speech by one of her legislators, who cried out : 'Tax our lands! Vilify our country! Carry the sword of extermination through our defenseless vil- lages, but spare us, I implore you — spare us the curse of slavery, that bitterest drop from the chalice of the Destroying Angel!" At that time (1831) the senti- ment against slavery in the North had by no means been so strongly expressed. For John Brown, then, to attempt to stir up black men to what meant death and worse for women and children was the most fatal way to rouse the South against Abolitionists. The slaves themselves showed better sense than this emotional instigator. They did 232 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN not respond. Led on by the unbalanced and mis- guided Brown, his tall figure and flowing white beard conspicuous at the head of a band of guerrillas and free negroes, Brown attacked the small arsenal at Harper's Ferry. Colonel Robert E. Lee, in command of some marines, was sent to quell the disturbance. Lee sent his aide, J. E. B. Stuart (later famous as a Confederate commander), to parley with Brown. Now Stuart had been in Kansas and recognized the dis- turber with the exclamation, "Why, aren't you old Pottawatomie Brown of Kansas ?" The story of Brown's early life and the influences which made him a religious fanatic and inevitably set his mind so strongly against slavery that he extracted a Carthaginian oath from his sons to devote their lives to merciless war against that institution, — all are interesting and extenuate his extremes, but these are not in place here. He was captured and hanged for treason. He was of course denounced on one hand as the vilest villain and on the other hand lauded as a martyr and a saint. Emerson likened Brown's death on the gallows to the glory and sacrifice of the Cross. Victor Hugo called him hero and apostle. These men, however, lived far out of the way of any danger of a black uprising. As a matter of plain fact Brown's deed was too violent for common sense, and it worked disadvantage to the very side he sought to aid. The North generally refused to condone his act. Lincoln's Cooper speech mentioned it in this way: "You charge that we stir up insurrection among your slaves. We deny it ; and what is your proof ? Harper's Ferry! John Brown!! John Brown was no Republi- NOMINATED FOR PRESIDENCY 233 can ; and you have failed to implicate a single Repub- lican in his Harper's Ferry enterprise. . . . "John Brown's effort was peculiar. It was not a slave insurrection. It was an attempt by white men to get up a revolt among slaves, in which the slaves re- fused to participate. In fact, it was so absurd that the slaves, with all their ignorance, saw plainly enough it could not succeed. That affair, in its philosophy, corresponds with the many attempts related in history, of the assassination of kings and emperors. An en- thusiast broods over the oppression of a people till he fancies himself commissioned by Heaven to liberate them. He ventures the attempt which ends in little else than his own execution." This viewpoint on Brown is only one example of the well-balanced mind and sound reasoning which won Lincoln's Cooper Institute audience and brought pub- licity that promptly gave it national importance. On the day after this speech, out came all the New York dailies with the speech in full with editorial * comment on it. Lincoln had taken advantage of his trip east to visit his son Robert at Phillips Academy i in Exeter, N. H. Showered now with invitations to speak, he toured New England from one platform to another. As a result, Lincoln's name began to be much talked | of all through New England, New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania as well as in Ohio, Michigan, Indiana and his own home state. An Illinois politician, J. W. Fell, early approached Lincoln with suggestions of his nomination for Pres- idency, but Lincoln brushed the idea aside with : 234 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN "What's the use of talking of me for the Presidency [whilst we have such men as Seward, Chase and others, who are so much better known to the people and whose names are so intimately associated with the principles of the Republican party? Everybody knows them; nobody, scarcely, outside of Illinois knows me. Be- sides, is it not, as a matter of justice, due to such men, who have carried this movement forward to its present status, in spite of fearful opposition, personal abuse, and hard names ? I really think so." Fell continued urging, trying to persuade Lincoln to write a brief biography for campaign use. Lincoln rose impatiently and "wrapping his old gray shawl around his tall figure" said, "I admit that I am am- bitious and would like to be President. I am not in- sensible of the compliment you pay me and the interest you manifest in the matter, but there is no such good luck in store for me as the Presidency of these United States. Besides, there is nothing in my early history that would interest you or anybody else and as Judge Davis says, 'it won't pay/ Good night." Later, however, Fell did succeed in getting Lincoln to write a sketch of his life which was done in that "third person autobiography" to which we have already referred. The Republican Party, in spite of Lincoln's protest, now began to discuss his name openly as a possible candidate. Lincoln steadfastly refused the nomination, and the Republican State Convention opened May 9th, i860, without his consent for proposal of himself as candidate. He earnestly discouraged any attempt to present his name and told one enthusiast, "I beg you NOMINATED FOR PRESIDENCY 235 not to give the matter further mention. Seriously, I do not think I am fit for the Presidency." The Republican Illinois Convention was held that year at Decatur and Lincoln was present modestly in the rear of the hall as an inconspicuous spectator. He was spied, however, by Governor Richard Oglesby, who presided, and who rose and said : "A distinguished citizen of Illinois, one whom our state will ever delight to honor, is present in the rear of this room and I make the motion that he be invited to a seat on this platform !" The crowd stirred, whispered, stared, and craned necks to see whom the governor could mean. After an impressive pause to rouse attention and curiosity, the Governor added, "Abraham Lincoln !" At this the crowd broke out into wild applause, the hall roared and rocked with it, and a stampede was made to where the surprised and embarrassed Lincoln sat. They laid hands on him and willy-nilly he was tossed up to the shoulders of a squad of impulsive admirers and borne triumphantly through the stamping, cheering throng and swung upon the platform in a riot of wildest applause. A little later the adroit Governor sprung a bomb upon the audience. He came forward to the edge of the platform and announced: "There is an old Democrat outside who has some- thing to present to this Convention." Curious shouts of "Who is it? What is it? Bring him in ! Let's see it !" broke out all over the hall. A door directly behind the front platform was swung open and in stepped a sturdy old man carrying across 236 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN his shoulders a couple of long, rough, fence rails, la- beled with a banner reading: TWO RAILS FROM A LOT MADE BY ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND JOHN HANKS IN THE SANGAMON BOTTOM IN THE YEAR 183O. It was good old John Hanks himself! He carried a pair of those famous rails split when Lincoln was twenty-one and was settling his father in the new Illi- nois cabin just before he struck out from home for, himself. If the audience had been wild before, it was frenzied now. There were deafening demands for "Lincoln! Lincoln! Lincoln! Speech! Speech! Speech !" Lincoln laughed, stood up, and as soon as he could make himself heard said in an amused tone : "Gentlemen, I suppose you want to know something about these rails. Well, to tell the truth, John Hanks and I did make some rails on the Sangamon Bottom. I don't know whether we made those rails or not; fact is [he laughed] I don't think they are a credit to their makers! But I do know this: I made rails then and I think I could make better ones now." The Illinois convention closed with the resolution: "Abraham Lincoln is the first choice of the Republican Party of Illinois for the Presidency.' , The Illinois delegates to the National Convention were forthwith instructed to work for his National nomination and to that end "cast the vote of the state as a unit for him. ,, NOMINATED FOR PRESIDENCY 237 The National Convention met in Chicago a week later, in a temporary wooden structure run up for the occasion and called "The Wigwam." William H. Seward of New York was the leading candidate, but Salmon P. Chase of Ohio was a close second. The Republican nomination hinged upon the vote of these states adjoining the slave border-line : New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Indiana and Illinois. There was just a chance that one of these border states might take a stand for states' sovereignty and Stephen A. Douglas. Obviously a candidate to offset Douglas was necessary and Lincoln, of course, supplied this need. Now Seward's views were so radically anti-slavery that some of these border-line states shrank a little from his high-handed declaration "there is a higher law than the Constitution/' as savoring a little too much of extreme "abolitionism." The balloting began, and though there was no radio then to broadcast the frantic roars of applause for candidates the lung power was no less vociferous be- cause the racket was limited to the Wigwam roof in- stead of to ears of "listening-in" voters in the most distant states. As many a hoarse throat was split in long-drawn-out cheers in i860 as to-day. William H. Seward, of New York, was first nomi- nated. His name was greeted by a prolonged roar of enthusiasm. Then came the name of Abraham Lincoln of Illinois and the cheers that had gone before were feeble in comparison. Again and again the Wigwam rocked with the shouting as each candidate was pre- sented. 238 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN The balloting began. The very first ballot showed the race to be between Seward and Lincoln. On the first ballot Seward received 173^ ; Lincoln 102. New York felt sure of victory for her favorite son, but the second ballot showed Lincoln creeping up with 181 to Seward's 184^2. The ballot reports continued in singsong, the at- mosphere became electric with excitement and nerv- ousness: "Lincoln 231^; Seward 180." Messengers at skylights on the roof listened and then shouted the results to the mass of listening people in the street below packed outside the building. There was no noise now, but a tense stillness as the crowds within waited to see what change in what state would shift the balance. Lincoln held 2313/2. Only 233 were necessary to decide it. Suddenly Ohio an- nounced a change of four votes from Chase to Lincoln, and the Convention broke into tumult. A skylight messenger shrieked the announcement of Lincoln's nomination to the assembled thousands in the street and set off a cannon on the roof of the Wigwam that boomed out the decision in thunderous salute. The throng without took up the shouts of the crowd within and sent it reechoing until it drowned out the din of city streets. The demonstration was all the more frantic for the triumph of anti-slavery that it marked. Within, the audience was in a frenzy of ex- citement. And the cause of all that frenzied approval on the part of the people was the outspoken and un- compromising stand of an undistinguished "country lawyer," a stand which he had already taken six years NOMINATED FOR PRESIDENCY 239 before when he had addressed a meeting in Peoria, Illinois, as follows: "Slavery is founded on the selfishness of man's na- ture — opposition to it on the love of justice. These principles are in eternal antagonism ; and when brought into collision as fiercely as slavery extension brings them, shocks and throes and convulsions must follow ceaselessly. "Repeal the Missouri Compromise; repeal all Com- promise ; repeal the Declaration of Independence ; repeal all past history; you cannot repeal human nature! It will still be in the abundance of man's heart that slavery extension is wrong and out of the abundance of the heart his mouth will continue to speak." Meanwhile one delegation after another threw their votes in to swell Lincoln's total. As soon as a voice could be heard, New York gracefully made a motion that the nomination be made unanimous. That afternoon the Convention nominated Hannibal Hamlin of Maine for Vice President, and that night with bonfires and cheers the campaign began. The names of the candidates were later arranged in a sort of fantastic campaign acrostic thus : — • H A M — L I N L I N-COLN' ABRA— HAMLIN — COLN In the meanwhile, where was Lincoln himself? Not at the Convention, but back in quiet Springfield. He spent the time restlessly waiting for the nominating re- sults, unable to concentrate upon anything. He wan- 240 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN dered downtown, stopped in at friends' offices for dis- cussion; hung around the telegraph office, saw trains enter the stations where he cornered any friend return- ing from Chicago, and pressed him for news; went home uneasily in the middle of the morning, strolled restlessly out again, returned early; tried to play with his boys ; tried to read, gave it up. On the third day he wandered around to a friend's law office and flinging himself down on the couch remarked wearily, "Well, I guess I'll go back to law practice." He was melan- choly and depressed and did not hope for the nomina- tion. The balloting had begun and Lincoln could not keep quiet nor compose himself to sprawl long on the lounge that morning. He joined the throng at the telegraph office listening to returns. All of a sudden he remem- bered that his wife had sent him out to buy a beefsteak, which he had totally forgotten. He hurried over to the butcher shop and bought it and with the parcel under one arm paused at the door to chat with a group of friends when there was a commotion and cheering at the telegraph office. A boy came galloping to him yelling the news, some say it was his own son Willie, shouting, "Papa! you're nominated! You're nomi- nated!" In a minute the street was in an uproar and Lincoln surrounded by excited neighbors pressing in upon him to wring his hand and one another's. One man cried out, "What ! Abe Lincoln nominated for President of the United States! Can it be possible? A man that buys a ten-cent beefsteak for his breakfast and carries it home himself !" NOMINATED FOR PRESIDENCY 241 Down the streets ran more people, heads popped out of hastily opened windows, people in the streets called up the news to them. Lincoln was the center of a handshaking, cheering throng, hats were tossed high in air, handkerchiefs waved, little boys turned hand- springs. From the midst of it all Lincoln broke away, saying : — "My friends, I am glad to receive your congratula- tions, and as there is a little woman down on Eighth Street who will be glad to hear the news too, you must excuse me until I inform her." CHAPTER XXIV ELECTION DAY Lincoln was no sooner nominated than all sorts of gifts and offerings began to be sent him, and among them appeared an elegant high silk hat donated by a New York hat-maker. Other clothing firms, perhaps prompted by reports of his awkward attire, sent hand- some gifts of expensive clothing. Lincoln laughed at this and chuckled, "Well, wife, if nothing else comes of this scrape we are going to have some new clothes out of it at any rate !" Lincoln had spent the Sunday before the Convention met comfortably and quietly at home with his wife and boys. It was the last idle and serene day with his family that Lincoln was able to indulge in. Speaking of it afterwards Mrs. Lincoln said : "We had before us a New York illustrated weekly, in which a number of Presidential candidates were rep- resented in a double-page group, Mr. Seward's portrait being conspicuous over all as that of the coming man. Mr. Lincoln's picture was there, such as it was, and it couldn't have been made more dismal. Half seriously I said to him, 'One look at that face is enough to put an end to hope !' " There were no more quiet family days of comfortable privacy now. Their house and yard were overrun by politicians, curiosity seekers, old friends, committees and all sorts of callers. As for his picture, it now appeared on the front page of every newspaper, and ELECTION DAY 243 Lincoln used to laugh and tell this story of it. His photograph, taken casually some time before, was seized upon for print by the papers and proved far from flat- tering. "This coarse, rough hair of mine," he said, "was in a particularly bad tousle and the picture pre- sented me in all its fright. The newsboys used to shout, 'Here's your old Abe, he'll look better when he gets his hair combed V " It was a singular feature of this election that Mary Lincoln saw Lincoln's old rival, Stephen A. Douglas, run against him as Democratic candidate for the Pres- idency ! The strange parallelism of these two men ran thus : — Both were admitted to practice in the Supreme Court of Illinois on the selfsame day; Both courted Mary Todd ; Both represented Illinois in Congress; Both were rival candidates for Senatorship ; And they were both candidates for the Presidential nomination of i860. A formal announcement of the nomination was made to Lincoln by a committee of thirty whom he, in turn, informally entertained. The committee arrived at the plain Lincoln home in Springfield somewhere around sunset time on Saturday evening. One of the Lincoln boys was sitting on the gate post as the thirty men filed into the yard. There was no crowd. The crowd was all downtown listen- ing to a political spellbinder who was supporting Mr. Douglas. They found Lincoln dressed in a black frock coat standing before the fireplace. For a few moments 244 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN there were constraint and embarrassment on both sides. Then the men stated their errand. At the conclusion of Mr. Kelly's words, Lincoln laughed and said : "You are a tall man, Judge. What is your height ?" "Six feet three," replied Kelly. "I beat you. I am six feet four without my high- heeled boots." "Pennsylvania bows to Illinois. I am glad that we have found a candidate for the Presidency whom we can look up to, for we have been informed that there were only 'Little Giants' in Illinois." "Mrs. Lincoln will be pleased to see you, gentle- men," said the host after a pleasant hour of talk with the committee. "You will find her in the other room. You must be thirsty after your long ride. You will find a pitcher of water in the library." From that night a swarm of people sought "the little house on Eighth Street." In August, seventy thou- sand people from the West flocked into Springfield on one single day to visit Abraham Lincoln. With wives and babies in wagons ; with camp kits, tents, pots and pans, the thousands thronged into Springfield and camped out in one mighty visit upon the candidate whom one friendly Democratic editor had jokingly declared was "called 'Honest Abe' to distinguish him from the rest of the Party!" Election Day fell that year on November 6th. Bright and early Lincoln was at his desk in the State House sorting his mail as if it were any other business day. There was a calmness about him this time that contrasted with his restlessness on the day of nomina- tion. His friends began to pour in upon him until ELECTION DAY 245 they filled office and hall and some one suggested, "You will have to shut the doors so you can be alone." To this Lincoln answered, "No, no. I have never done such a thing in my life as to close my door on a friend and I surely will not begin to-day.' ' He spent the whole day, therefore, in entertaining visitors. Up and down the streets all day voters came and went from the polls. Lincoln had made up his mind not to vote because "his name headed the Republican ticket and he did not want to vote for himself." Some- body said, "Why not strike off your name and vote the rest of the ticket ?" "So I will!" agreed Lincoln, and went out to vote. Of course he was recognized and cheered lustily and even Democratic citizens paused to wave and give a friendly hurrah for their popular neighbor. It was a day of tense anticipation for Mary Todd Lincoln, who years before had declared, "I mean to make him President of the United States. You will see that, as I always told you, I will yet be the Presi- dent's wife!" She seemed confident now in her pro- phetic certainty of the outcome and her certainty seemed to take hold of her husband. Election returns could not be expected before eight that night, and by seven Mrs. Lincoln had given him a substantial supper of his favorite dishes and sent the waiting can- didate back to his friends downtown. She stayed at home with the children. That must have been an exciting scene down at the old hall in Springfield where Lincoln went to hear the returns. The first news naturally came from Illinois, closely followed by despatches from Missouri, where 246 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN considerable opposition was expected. But, on the con- trary, nothing but good news came over the wire. And then came a telegram from Simon Cameron: "Penn- sylvania seventy thousand for you. New York safe. Glory enough." The hall full of people began a tri- umphant march, chanting the campaign song of the year, "Oh, ain't you glad you joined the Republicans?" But Lincoln seemed more pleased over the fact that he had carried his own precinct in Springfield than over the constant flow of victorious telegrams from the East. When he had made sure about his home town's vote he got up happily and said, "Boys, I think I will go home now, for there is a little woman there who would like to hear the news." The result of the election was practically a certainty at twelve o'clock, the hour the candidate for president had promised his wife to be home. The club gave him three rousing cheers and he left the room. When he reached home he went on tiptoe to his wife's bedroom and found her sound asleep. He touched her gently on the shoulder and said, "Mary," but she did not awaken. And then he spoke again, louder, saying, "Mary, Mary! We are elected!" But before he himself retired that night, it was typical of the man to have selected every member of his Cabinet save one. As he said later: "I wanted Seward, for I had the highest respect for him and the utmost confidence in his ability. I wanted Chase for Secretary of the Treasury. I considered him one of the ablest, best and most reliable men in the country and a good representative of the progressive anti- slavery element of the Democratic party. I wanted ELECTION DAY 24tf Welles, whose acquaintance I made in Hartford, for Secretary of the Navy. I wanted all my competitors to have a place on the Cabinet in order to create har- mony." CHAPTER XXV WAR CLOUDS "The Solid South" had said that if Lincoln were elected, the South would secede. Lincoln was elected. War clouds gathered. Lincoln's victory had made him, so the New York Herald declared, a "Sectional President/' for the South had taken no part whatever in electing him. In fact fifteen states gave him no electoral vote at all and in ten states not a single popular vote was cast for him. He was elected in November. In February a great Southern convention was held in Alabama to discuss withdrawal from the Union and the formation of a new Southern Confederacy. A tentative constitution was drawn up and suggested officers chosen with startling brilliance and dispatch. Now the North was panic-stricken. The prospect of disrupted trade with the cotton growing South dis- mayed the manufacturing North. Peace meetings were held in all the large cities of the free states to endeavor to affect conciliation. On Lincoln was thrown the brunt of the threatened disaster. All over the North it was being said that his election had brought on trouble, and now what was he going to do about it? Lincoln's hands were tied. He was elected ; he was 248 WAR CLOUDS 249 the cause of national dissension, but he was not yet President. Buchanan and his Cabinet were still in- vested with the power of government. In the time remaining until March, when Lincoln would take the reins, the nation held its breath for the crisis, the South ominous, threatening, the North anx- ious, conciliatory. The Buchanan Cabinet used this time to suit itself. In order to know just what this Cabinet was doing and why, we will have to look back a little. Lincoln happened now (in 1861) to be the storm center, but this was far from being the first time that secession threatened the nation. As far back as 1832, South Carolina independently announced that she would withdraw from the Union and set up a government all her own, unless some con- cessions were promptly made her. Her grievance was not slavery at all but the tariff. She got her conces- sions. Nor was the South alone in this— Northern states, too, had restlessly threatened secession, but this caused no serious fear, as none had proved in earnest. The Missouri Compromise in 1820 had opened the way to the most serious threatened disunion. In 1825 when it was a question of deciding whether California should be free or not, Robert Toombs of Georgia de- clared hotly in a speech in the House of Representatives that he openly vowed "before this House, the country, and in the presence of the living God, that if by your legislation you seek to drive us from the territories of California and New Mexico . . . I am for dis- union!" Calhoun also at this time urged secession if concessions were not made. 250 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN In June, 1850, leading Southern statesmen held a convention in Nashville and drew up a declaration that a state had the abstract right to secede from the Union if it wanted to. The South based its right to secede on the ground that the Union was simply a confederation of sover- eign states, framed for mutual advantage, and when advantage ceased a state might withdraw at will. It based its desire to secede on the grounds that the North had imposed anti-personal-liberty laws contrary to the Constitution ; that the South had been over-taxed by high tariff for the benefit of Northern manufac- tures; and that a sectional President hostile to their deep-seated economical institutions of slavery had been elected. At the Presidential election of 1856, ex-President Tyler prophesied that "the success of the Black Re- publicans would sound the knell of the Union," and Governor Wise of Virginia wrote that if the Republi- can candidate were elected, the union would not last a year. In fact, the South then, as in i860, was declared ready to secede if an anti-slavery Republican President won. As a matter of fact, it was Buchanan, the Democrat, who was elected and who was chiefly char- acterized by a vacillating and weakly conciliatory atti- tude, first trying to ingratiate one side, then the other. He was caught in a dilemma. Cautious, almost timid, and with small executive power, he seemed a figure- head only. His Cabinet had things much their own way, and their way was of Southern sympathy. Then came Lincoln. At the first intimation of his WAR CLOUDS 251 possibility as President a canvass of Southern States was made to determine their willingness to secede if he received the election. Needless to say, it was impetuous South Caro- lina that took the first step. Lincoln was elected in November, i860. A month later, on December 17th, the South Carolina legislature called a secession con- vention. The South Carolinians sincerely believed that the slavery agitation threatened their peace, pros- perity and the happiness of their homes. They had always held it right to love their state more than the Union. They voted for secession, and with the wild demonstrations of enthusiasm that greeted it, they cele- brated the decision with the spirit and fervor of 1776. Lincoln was still only President-elect, but secession went on. With the New Year, 1861, Mississippi, Flor- ida, Alabama and Georgia joined Carolina's decision, not by popular vote, but through conventions. Georgia balked at secession under the Union lead of its gover- nor, Alexander H. Stephens, who said, "the State would have refused but for the cry 'We can make better terms out of the Union than in it !' " Georgia looked to se- ceding temporarily for the sake of sharper parley. January closed with Louisiana making the seventh se- ceding state. Texas joined the others on February 1st, by vote of the people. The last mentioned seven states comprised the crucial "cotton belt." This brings us around to February and the afore- mentioned Confederacy Convention, based on the right of a state to withdraw from the Union at will. In the President's Message to Congress that previous December, Buchanan had denied his own power and 252 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN that of Congress to prevent secession. He based this upon the official opinion of his Attorney-General. Last minute changes in his Cabinet did not come in time to readjust matters that former members had prepared for Lincoln's term. Buchanan's Secretary of War, a Southerner, in the belief that to the states individually belonged the forts and arsenals in them, had not pre- vented their being taken possession of by the states. He scattered the United States Army so thoroughly through the South that it was not on hand in a body for a new President to manipulate promptly. The Sec- retary of the Navy had the small Navy "sent to the four quarters of the globe/ ' so that no naval force was quickly available for any Northern move. The Secre- tary of the Interior was the busiest of all. As for the Secretary of the Treasury — he left the Treasury empty. This was the inheritance Lincoln came into ! PART V Civil War "My paramount object in this war is to save the Union. CHAPTER XXVI LINCOLN GOES TO WASHINGTON So the storm clouds kept lowering during Lincoln's period of inaction as President-elect. The time now approached when he must leave the quiet of Springfield for the turbulence of the Nation's Capital. There were qualms in his heart at the actual parting. Perhaps he felt then as he had before, when elected to Congress, "it has not pleased me as much as I expected," for he lingered around familiar places as if he half wished he might be spared the turmoil of Presidency for the serenity of country law practice. Some premonition of his fate in public office seemed foreshadowed in these days even to the point of rous- ing Mrs. Lincoln's second sense and uncanny intuition to a point bordering on the superstitious. Lincoln, him- self, intimates this in his own way in relating the following "omen": "It was just after my election in i860, when the news had been coming in thick and fast all day, and there had been a great 'Hurrah, boys!' so that I was well tired out, and went home to rest, throwing myself down on a lounge in my chamber. Opposite where I lay was a bureau — (and here he got up and placed the furniture to illustrate the position) — and, looking in that glass, I saw myself reflected, nearly at full length; but my face, I noticed, had two separate and distinct 255 256 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN images, the top of the nose of one being about three inches from the top of the other. I was a little bothered, perhaps startled, and got up and looked in the glass, but the illusion vanished. On lying down again I saw it a second time — plainer, if possible, than before; and then I noticed that one of the faces was a little paler, say five shades, than the other. I got up and the thing melted away, and I went off and, in the excitement of the hour, forgot all about it — nearly, but not quite, for the thing would once in a while come up and give me a little pang, as though something uncom- fortable had happened. When I went home again that night I told my wife about it, and a few days afterward I tried the experiment again, when, sure enough, the thing came again; but I never succeeded in bringing the ghost back after that, though I tried very indus- triously to show it to my wife, who was somewhat worried about it. She thought it was a 'sign' that I was to be elected to a second term of office, and thafr the paleness of one of the faces was an omen that I should not see life through the last term." The departure for Washington was too momentous a step to be made without due farewell to his aged step-mother. She was now so old that there was rea- sonable fear that she might not live to see his return. Before starting for Washington, therefore, Lincoln went to Coles County to visit his "folks" and came first to the home of his cousin and companion, good Dennis Hanks, who celebrated "Abe's" arrival with a neighborhood jamboree of carefree country gayety and plenteous food. This was the last old-time party of its kind that Lincoln, already in the shadow of the White LINCOLN GOES TO WASHINGTON 257 House with its cares and stately ceremonies, was ever to enjoy with his own people. He spent the night with Dennis and his family and next morning after an early and generous country breakfast, he set off in a two-horse buggy towards Farmington, where his step-mother was then living with one married daughter. It was February, not long before another anniversary of the famous blizzard and the weather was keen and wintry. They came to the Kickapoo River and found it rushing high, full of sharp and dangerous ice blocks which threatened their passage as they tried to ford it. The horses objected to the icy plunge, shied at the scurrying ice, and nearly tipped over the buggy, but, by good fortune, Lincoln succeeded in reaching his mother's safe and far dryer than he had been on their first trip to Illinois in his twenty-first February, when he waded an icy river to save a pet dog. Old Sally Bush Lincoln rushed out overjoyed to see her famous son. Short and chubby, she endeavored to embrace her Abe's tall lanky figure, and gave way to motherly emotion and pride in tears. When it came time for Abe to leave her she quite broke down, clung fast to him, and said tremulously that she feared she would never lay eyes on him again for some foe was sure to assassinate him for holding such a great public office. Lincoln comforted her with a hug and the assurance, "No, no, Mother, they will not do that. Trust in the Lord and all will be well. We shall see each other again." Before leaving, Lincoln went to his father's grave. It was only a pathetic, unmarked hummock overgrown 258 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN with coarse grass and weeds. Lincoln arranged then and there to "have it enclosed and a suitable tombstone erected." He then returned to Springfield and at eight o'clock in the morning of February nth, that cold, clear day- be fore his birthday, he left Springfield. Townspeople gathered at the little station to shake his hand and wave farewell. His friend, Henry Villard, preserved the extemporaneous speech he made to the crowd on the station platform and sent it over the telegraph wires as follows: "My Friends: No one not in my position can appreciate the sadness I feel at this parting. To this people I owe all that I am. Here I have lived more than a quarter of a century; here my children were born, and here one of them lies buried. I do not know how soon I shall see you again. A duty devolves upon me which is, perhaps, greater than that which has de- volved upon any other man since the days of Washing- ton. He would never have succeeded except for the aid of Divine Providence, upon which he at all times relied. I feel that I cannot succeed without the same Divine aid which sustained him, and in the same Al- mighty Being I place my reliance for support and I hope you, my friends, will all pray that I may receive that Divine assistance without which I cannot succeed, and with which success is certain c Again I bid you all an affectionate farewell." Amid applause and waving of hats, hands and hand- kerchiefs, the train drew out bearing away the last glimpse Springfield had of Lincoln's tall lean figure erect and smiling. LINCOLN GOES TO WASHINGTON 259 On rushed the train toward Washington at last! With what emotions must Mrs. Lincoln have glanced out at flying scenery and at the assemblages of waving, cheering people lining the railroad stations as the train swept through bearing her to the Capitol where she was, after all, to be as she had often said, the wife of the President of the United States! With what sen- sations must Tad and Willie, bound for their White House home, have scuffled for a place at the window to press noses against the pane and stare at the throngs cheering their father from station platforms ! Robert, on his way to Harvard, sat soberly as befit the dignity of an elder brother, taking much family responsibility upon his own shoulders, which afterwards got him into a bit of a scrape and caused his father some keen anxiety. This happened later. Meanwhile, as the train whirled through the country so many people thronged tracks and stations for a peep at the new President that whenever the train stopped long enough he stood on the car platform and made speech after speech through town after town, in one state after another. In the larger cities civic committees greeted him and longer speeches were demanded. At Pittsburgh an address of welcome by the Mayor greeted him and a reception by the Common Council followed. In his speech before them Lincoln referred thus to that sorely vexing problem, the tariff: "The tariff is a question of national housekeeping. It is to the Government what replenishing the flour barrel is to the family.' ' From Pittsburgh the train went on to Cleveland and another stop for a speech in which he said : 260 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN "If all do not join now to save the good old Ship of the Union on this voyage, nobody will have a chance to pilot her on another voyage." As the train flew on, Mrs. Lincoln sat lost in thought, perhaps pondering the superstitious warning of her husband's "optical omen." They traveled in an ordi- nary day coach, and, absorbed in her own thoughts, she took no notice of Tad's antics. He was beside her on the seat, next the window, and kept mischievously trying "to catch the fingers of boys outside." Tad would open the window a crack and then try to slam it down again on the boys' fingers. His father, re- turning from speaking outside, sternly bade Tad stop it, but in a few minutes the young rogue was at it again. Again Lincoln reprimanded him. Again, after a pause, Tad renewed his trick. Thereupon, the Presi- dent leaned over, snatched Tad unceremoniously, stretched him across his knees, and "gave him a good spanking," saying, "Why do you want to mash those boys' fingers ?" A wreck on the line here (near Freedom, Pa.) de- layed the train some time and Lincoln went out and watched the wrecking crew at work. When the train started again, one man in the crowd commented to Mr. Dibble: "He is not the kind of man I expected to see, except that he is tall. I expected to see a jolly- looking man. He looked sad enough to be going to his death, instead of to be inaugurated President of the United States !" At Westfield, New York, Lincoln's solemnity was broken by a pleasant little incident. Col. Alex Mc- Clure tells us that little Grace Bedell, of Westfield, LINCOLN GOES TO WASHINGTON 261 saw a portrait of Lincoln during the Presidential cam- paign. She said to her mother: " 'I think Mr. Lincoln would look better if he wore whiskers and I'm going to write and tell him so/ Her father was a Republican, but her two brothers were Democrats. She wrote to 'Hon. Abraham Lincoln, Esq./ and told him how old she was; where she lived; that she was a Republican; that she thought he would make a good President, but would look better if he let his beard grow. If he would do this she would try to coax her brothers to vote for him. She said she thought the rail fence around his cabin, in the picture, was very- pretty, and wound up with : " 'If you have not time to answer my letter, will you allow your little girl to reply for you ?' "Lincoln was pleased with the letter and answered it at once as follows: " 'Springfield, III., Oct. 19, i860. " 'Miss Grace Bedell : " 'My dear little Miss : Your very agreeable letter of the 15th is received. I regret the necessity of saying I have no daughter. I have three sons ; one seventeen ; one nine and one seven years of age. They, with their mother, constitute my whole family. As to whiskers, having never worn any, do you not think people would call it a piece of silly affectation if I should begin now? " 'Your very sincere well-wisher, " 'A Lincoln.' " So when the train stopped at the village of West- field, one of the aides of the President-elect called out from the rear platform of Lincoln's coach and asked 262 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN whether there might be a girl by the name of Grace Bedell in the crowd which had surrounded the train. The little girl made her way through the throng and as she approached the platform the man with the new beard grown at this little lady's request lifted her up and kissed her, much to the enjoyment of the crowd. Here indeed was something for Grace to tell and re- tell to her future grandchildren ! Lincoln's roundabout journey took him through Buffalo, where he spent Sunday, going on Monday to Rochester, and thence to Syracuse, where an elaborate platform had been erected for him to speak from, but there was not time enough for a formal speech. At Utica the train stopped only for a few minutes, then went on to Albany. Here a huge procession met and escorted the President-elect to the State House. At Troy a large reception was ready for him. Hurried through Hudson he had time for a few words only. Poughkeepsie and Peekskill offered more receptions and speeches. He reached New York, thoroughly tired out, at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. All business ceased for the day and crowds turned out to block Broadway in a jammed effort to get a glimpse of Lincoln as he made his way to the Astor House. Here he bowed to the multitudes from a balcony but there is small won- der that he was too exhausted to attempt a speech. Going on to Trenton, Lincoln was met by a delega- tion from the Legislature and accompanied to the State House, when he made another speech in which he said, "May I be pardoned if upon this occasion I mention that away back in my childhood, the earliest days of my LINCOLN GOES TO WASHINGTON 263 being able to read, I got hold of a small book — Weem's Life of Washington. "I remember the accounts given there of the battle- fields and struggles for the liberties of the country and none fixed themselves upon my imagination so deeply as the struggle here at Trenton, N. J. I recollect think- ing then, boy even though I was, that there must have been something more than common that these men struggled for." Thus on the way to his inauguration there recurred to Lincoln's mind the picture of the country boy de- lighted with the rain- warped, mud-stained book (earned from "Old Blue Nose" Crawford), which had encour- aged in him the stirring determination to do something in his life beside split rails, grub roots and shuck corn! From Trenton he went on to Philadelphia which he reached in the midst of the patriotic celebration of Washington's birthday and was "invited to raise the flag over Independence Hall, where the famous Declara- tion was first published to the world." Such a spot, reminiscent of the Fathers of the Con- stitution, could not fail to bring forth his sentiments in a speech on the significance of our national liberty. He linked the principle of the Revolution to the pend- ing Southern crisis in these strangely prophetic words. "Now, my friends, can this country be saved upon that basis? (Liberty to all people of the country for all time.) "If it can, I shall consider myself one of the happiest men in the world if I can help to save it. If it cannot be saved upon that principle it will be truly awful. But if this country cannot be saved without giving up this 264 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN principle, I was about to say I would rather be assassi- nated on this spot than surrender it. I have said noth- ing but what I am willing to live by, and if it be the pleasure of Almighty God, to die by." The gruesome reason for these weirdly significant words lay in the knowledge that he already stood in the shadow of assassination. In spite of the fact that he was twice warned in Philadelphia of a plot to murder him, he proceeded to keep appointments in Harris- burg. Here, Robert, in charge of the special satchel which carried his father's inaugural address, put the party to quite a fright. He suddenly discovered that he had mislaid the bag and its precious contents. He could not remember what he had done with it, but thought vaguely that he had handed it to a waiter at the hotel. The waiter knew nothing of the bag. Lincoln was sick at heart. He had prepared his address in Springfield in a room over a store, using for reference Henry Clay's great Compromise Speech of 1850, Andrew Jackson's Proclamation Against Nulli- fication, Webster's Reply to Hayne, and the American Constitution. He had kept no duplicate notes, and now, ten days before the inauguration, with no time left to prepare another speech, the manuscript was gone. Finally the hotel brought forth from the baggage room a satchel which Lincoln thought he recognized. The key fitted! But the bag contained only a soiled shirt, some paper collars, and a bottle of whiskey! Shortly after this disappointment, however, the right bag with the precious speech in it was discovered in another pile of luggage. LINCOLN GOES TO WASHINGTON 265 Lincoln told his friends that it reminded him of the man who lost $1,500 in a bank failure, receiving back $150. This he deposited in another bank in which he had great confidence. Soon that also failed, and he received $15 of his savings. Ruefully looking at the remnants of his $1,500, he said, "Anyhow, con- found it, now I've got you in portable form, I can put you in my pocket.' , So Lincoln now buttoned his inaugural address into his inside pocket for safe-keeping. And now comes the final event of the trip — a dra- matic and ominous incident which made it suddenly necessary for Lincoln to change cars secretly at night and enter the Capital by stealth before daybreak. Lincoln tells of this in his own words : "Mr. Judd, a warm personal friend of mine from Chicago, sent for me to come to his room (at the Con- tinental Hotel, Philadelphia, February 21st). I went, and found there Mr. Pinkerton, a skillful police detec- tive, also from Chicago, who had been employed for some days in Baltimore watching or searching for sus- picious persons there. Pinkerton informed me that a plan had been laid for my assassination, the exact time when I expected to go through Baltimore being publicly known. He was well informed of the plan, but did not know that the conspirators would have pluck enough to execute it. He urged me to go right through with him to Washington that night. I didn't like that. I had made engagements to visit Harrisburg and go from there to Baltimore, and I resolved to do so. I could not believe that there was a plot to murder me. "I made arrangements, however, with Mr. Judd for 266 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN my return to Philadelphia the next night if I should be convinced that there was danger in going through Baltimore. I told them that if I should meet at Harris- burg, as I had at other places, a delegation to go on with me to the next place (Baltimore) I should feel safe and go on. When I was making my way back to my room, through crowds of people, I met Frederick Seward. We went together to my room when he told me he had been sent at the instance of his father and General Scott, to inform me that their detectives in Baltimore had discovered a plot there to assassinate me. They knew nothing of Mr. Pinkerton's move- ments. I now believed such a plot to be in existence." The next events are traced tersely in the following letter of record : "Allan Pinkerton, Esq., "Chicago, 111. "Yours of the 6th inst. rec'd. I am informed that a son of a distinguished citizen of Maryland said he had taken an oath with others to assassinate Mr. Lincoln before he gets to Washington, and they may attempt to do it while he is passing over our road. I think you had better look out for this man if possible. This information is perfectly reliable. I have nothing more to say at this time. I shall try and see you in a few days. "On the night of the 22d of February, 1861, Mr. Kenny and yourself met Mr. Lincoln at the West Phil- adelphia depot, and took him in a carriage over to the Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore Railroad LINCOLN GOES TO WASHINGTON 267 depot. Mr. Lincoln took a berth in the sleeping car and at n P. M. the train left for Washington. I met you in our depot at Baltimore, went into the sleep- ing car and whispered in your ear 'all is right/ which seemed to be welcome news to you — it certainly was to me. Mr. Lincoln arrived in Washington without even the officers of the train knowing he was aboard. "(Signed) Wm. Stearns, "(Master Machinist of the Phila., Wilmington & Bal- timore R. R.)." Though other cities had accorded enthusiastic recep- tions all along the way, the President-elect entered the Nation's Capital as quietly as any ordinary traveler and his arrival was marked by no triumphal entry at all. Telegraph climbers had been ordered to cut all wires leading out of Harrisburg and hold them severed until Lincoln arrived, unannounced, in Washington. In this way not even those in authority knew when to expect him. In the meantime, official Washington, expectant and anxious, cut off from all communication with the President's party, fearfully awaited the outcome of plot and journey. "On the afternoon of the 23rd of February, Mr. Seward came to my seat in the House of Representa- tives" (relates Elihu B. Washburne), "and told me he had no information from his son or any one else in respect of Mr. Lincoln's movements, and that he could have none as the wires were all cut, but he thought it very probable he would arrive on the reg- ular train from Philadelphia, and he suggested that we 268 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN meet in the depot to receive him. We were promptly on hand ; the train arrived on time, and with strained eyes we watched the descent of the passengers. "But there was no Mr. Lincoln among them. Though his arrival was by no means certain, yet we were much disappointed. As there was no telegraphic communi- cation it was impossible for us to have any information. It was no use to speculate. Sad, disappointed, and under the empire of conflicting emotions, we separated to go to our respective homes; but agreeing to be at the depot on the arrival of the New York train the next morning before daylight, hoping either to meet the President or get information as to his movements. "I was on hand in season, but to my great disap- pointment Governor Seward did not appear. "I planted myself behind one of the great pillars in the old Washington and Baltimore depot, where I could see and not be observed. Presently the train came rumbling in on time. It was a moment of great anx- iety to me. "As I have stated, I stood behind the pillar awaiting the arrival of the train. When it came to a stop I watched with fear and trembling to see the passengers descend. I saw every car emptied and there was no Mr. Lincoln. I was well-nigh in despair, when, about to leave, I saw slowly emerge from the last sleeping car three persons. I could not mistake the long, lank form of Mr. Lincoln, and my heart bounded with joy and gratitude. "He had on a soft, low-crowned hat, a muffler around his neck and a short bob-tailed overcoat. Any one who LINCOLN GOES TO WASHINGTON 269 knew him at that time could not have failed to recognize him at once. 'The only persons who accompanied him were Pink- erton, the well-known detective, and Ward H. Lamon. When they were fairly on the platform and a short distance from the car, I stepped forward and accosted the President: " 'How are you, Lincoln ?' " "At this unexpected and rather familiar salutation the gentlemen were apparently somewhat startled, but Mr. Lincoln, who recognized me, relieved them at once by remarking in his peculiar voice : " 'This is only Washburne !' "Then we all exchanged congratulations and walked out to the front of the depot where I had a carriage in waiting. Entering the carriage (all four of us) we drove rapidly to Willard's Hotel, entering on 14th Street, before it was fairly daylight. The porter showed us into a little receiving room at the head of the stairs, and at my direction went to the office to have Mr. Lincoln assigned a room. "We had not been in the hotel more than two min- utes before Governor Seward hurriedly entered, much out of breath and somewhat chagrined to think he had not been up in season to be at the depot on the arrival of the train. The meeting of these two great men, under the extraordinary circumstances which sur- rounded them, was full of emotion and thankfulness." Thus, all unheralded, Lincoln entered the Capital to begin a stormy term, in early morning secrecy before the sun rose. CHAPTER XXVII war! At noon, on March 4th, 1861, President Buchanan called at Willard's Hotel to escort the President-elect to the Capitol to succeed him to office. Entering a carriage the two drove "up the Avenue* ' along that historic route of procession traversed by all victorious troops and by nearly every President since Thomas Jefferson. The Pennsylvania Avenue of Lincoln's time, how- ever, was very different from to-day. It was lined then by only a few low buildings separated by stretches of vacant lots. The western approach of the Capitol facing the then unfinished Monument, did not present in 1 86 1 the stately aspect familiar on picture postals to-day. As Lincoln's inaugural procession approached, the huge building rose before them unfinished, with cranes, scaffold, ropes and hoists about the dome which was then under construction. As the Presidential parade advanced, rumbling over the old Avenue's cobblestones, the way was ominous with precaution against assassination. The curbs were lined with soldiers, mounted guards stood at every street corner, cavalrymen preceded and followed the President's carriage which riflemen accompanied and which was hemmed in so closely by a strong bodyguard that sightseers craned their necks in vain to catch a 270 WAR! 271 satisfactory glimpse of the new executive. So forti- fied against any attempt at assassination was the entire line of march that sharpshooters were even posted all along the way on housetops ! Reaching the north entrance safely, Mr. Buchanan and Mr. Lincoln entered the guarded Capitol arm in arm through a long wooden tunnel set up for protec- tion. The strangely contrasted pair thus entered the Senate chamber, Buchanan, a shriveled little man bent with age, Lincoln, towering immensely lank and tall beside him. Within the Senate, dignitaries lined up for the procession leading out to the inaugural plat- form erected on the Capitol's east portico. Preceded by the Justices of the Supreme Court, in all the cere- mony of cap and gown, the Presidential party moved solemnly outside into view of the sea of faces upturned from the multitudes packing the eastern plaza. Lincoln was introduced by his friend, Edward D. Baker, once member of the old Sangamon "Long Nine," now Senator from Oregon; the Baker who was so close a friend of the Lincolns that their little son, Eddie, had been named for him. Behind on the plat- form sat Chief Justice Taney of Dred Scott fame, ready to administer the Presidential oath; Stephen A. Douglas, Lincoln's long-standing rival; and Mrs. Lincoln who at last found herself really the wife of the President of the United States. After Baker's introduction, Lincoln took the ros- trum for the inaugural address, his manuscript in one hand and his high silk hat in the other. There was a moment of awkward hesitation as Lincoln looked help- lessly about for a place to put his hat and then his old 272 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN antagonist, Douglas, saved the day by stepping grace- fully forward and taking it, whispering with a smile to Mrs. Lincoln, "If I can't be President, at least I can hold his hat!" It is to be remarked that for the rest of his life, which abruptly ended two months later, Stephen A. Douglas remained Lincoln's staunch loyal supporter. The inaugural address had one theme : preservation of the Union. "I have no purpose to interfere with slavery in the states where it exists, I believe I have no lawful right to do so; and I have no inclination to do so," he as- sured the South. As for disunion, he maintained that the Union simply could not separate. "In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, and not in mine is the momentous issue of Civil War," he cried. By this speech he announced his stand which he hoped might avert war, but the subsequent affair at Fort Sumter, precipitating it, is too well known to need dissertation here. The inauguration took place in March, and by the middle of April the country was plunged into war. By the 18th of April an alarm spread that a large force of Confederates was descending upon Washing- ton and forthwith people began to flee the city. Men who had to remain hastily packed off their wives and children to safety farther north. Mrs. Lincoln was urged to take her boys and go, too, but she retorted with spirit: "I am as safe as Mr. Lincoln and I shall not leave him." Out went the President's call for WAR! 273 75,000 volunteers, and there followed anxious days and nights in which the President, fearful lest the country would not respond, paced the floor in agony and prayer, murmuring, "Why don't they come ! Why don't they come!" And then, suddenly they did come, flocking from every nook and corner of every state, thousands more than had been called for. The tramping of feet through Washington sounded to the volunteers' tri- umphant song, "We are coming, Father Abraham, a hundred thou- sand strong." The war was on! Lincoln's famous War Cabinet, chosen in an effort to harmonize all factions, unfortunately resulted only in friction. This handy little table gives a bird's-eye view of the irritable cabinet at a glance. William H. Seward New York Sec'y of State Salmon P. Chase Ohio " Treasury 1. Simon Cameron Pa. | Ohio/ 2. Edwin M. Stanton " War Gideon Welles Conn. " Navy Caleb Smith Ind. " Interior 1. Edward Bates Mo. } 2. James Speed Kentucky Atty. Gen'l 1. Montgomery Blair Md. \ Ohio J 2. William Dennison Post M. Gen'l That we may realize some of the contentions and internal strife that Lincoln had to put up with in his Cabinet in the midst of the distractions of War; and that these characters who play their parts throughout the succeeding pages may become something more to the reader than a dull list of names, we must now stop 274 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN a minute for some personal interviews which may bring these men of the past alive again. Seward, Chase, Cameron and Bates had all been Re- publican candidates who ran against Lincoln for the Presidential nomination. Bates and Blair were chosen from slave states (although they themselves owned no slaves) , to balance the free state members. Every man in this Cabinet privately thought that he was greater than the awkward Illinois lawyer who chanced to be their chief. Lincoln let them think so, but there was not a moment from the first that he, with a twinkle in his eye, and firm-set jaw, did not control them all. There was, in fact, a popular notion that the polished and sophisticated Seward would be the real "power behind the throne" and guide the national policies with Lincoln as a mere figurehead. Nobody believed this any more firmly than Seward himself. His presump- tion budded early, and was promptly nipped. No sooner had the new administration got under way than the aggressive Mr. Seward handed the President a memorandum headed "Some Thoughts for the Presi- dent's Consideration." This was one of the most as- tonishing suggestions any subordinate ever ventured to make to his superior. Seward audaciously began, "We are at the end of a month's administration and yet without a policy either foreign or domestic." He thereupon urged the amaz- ing policy of distracting the country's attention from the alarming crises of slavery and secession by the little diversion of declaring war on all Europe! To accom- plish this he tells what "I" would do. He says : "I would demand explanations from Spain and WAR ! 275 France, energetically at once, and if satisfactory expla- nations are not received, I would convene Congress and declare war against them. I would seek explanations from Great Britain and Russia and send agents into Canada, Mexico and Central America to arouse a vigorous spirit of Continental independence on this continent against European intervention." At the very moment that this hysterical advice was being given the President, the Southern Confederacy was established and all Europe would have jumped at a chance, for trade reasons, to aid it. This hornets' nest could have been tumbled down all too easily. But this was not all. Mr. Seward dictatorially concluded his amazing advice in this fashion : "But whatever policy we adopt, there must be an energetic prosecution of it. "For this purpose it must be somebody's business to pursue and direct it incessantly. "Either the President must do it himself and be all the while active in it, or it must devolve upon some member of his Cabinet. "It is not in my special province, but I neither seek to evade nor assume responsibility." Lincoln quietly disposed of this matter with a prompt letter, the substance of which was a firm "If this be done, I must do it." Two months later Mr. Seward wrote instructions to the United States Minister to England which, if sent, would surely have meant war. Lincoln changed the document wisely and as he sat, head on hand, poring over the manuscript he murmured to himself, "One war at a time — one war at a time." 276 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN So much for Seward. When Lincoln's friends called his attention to the way Chase, Secretary of the Treasury, was advancing his own political career at the expense of the Adminis- tration, Lincoln simply said: "I have determined so far as possible to shut my eyes to everything of the sort. Mr. Chase makes a good Secretary, and I shall keep him where he is. If he becomes President, all right. I hope we may never have a worse man. I am entirely indifferent to his suc- cess or failure in these schemes, so long as he does his duty at the head of the Treasury Department." When Henry J. Raymond, the famous editor, com- plained of Chase's Presidential aspirations, Lincoln summed the matter up in one of his characteristic homely stories: "Raymond," he said, "you were brought up on a farm and know what a 'chin fly' is. My brother and I were once plowing corn on a farm, I driving the horse and he holding the plow. The horse was lazy, but on one occasion rushed across the field so that I with my long legs could scarcely keep pace with him. On reaching the end of the furrow I found an enormous 'chin fly' fastened upon the horse and I knocked it off. My brother asked me what I did that for. I told him I didn't want the old horse bitten. 'Why/ said my brother, 'that's all that made him go!' "Now, if Mr. Chase has a Presidential 'chin fly' biting him, I'm not going to knock it off if it will only make his Department go!" Secretary Chase offered and withdrew his resignation once too often, for Lincoln surprised him and the whole WAR! 277 country by accepting it one day in 1864. Soon after- wards he nominated Chase for Chief Justice to fill the place of Judge Taney, who had died. Cameron became obnoxious to the public through a War Department scandal connected with the letting of war contracts, and Lincoln put him neatly out of the way by a transfer to the office of Minister to Russia. The War Secretaryship he filled by the appointment of his old enemy, the disdainful Edwin M. Stanton, who on their first encounter in early law practice had re- marked acidly on Lincoln as a "long, lank creature from Illinois, wearing a dirty linen duster." Although the feeling between them was even now far from ami- able and was ever destined to be marked by some brusqueness, nevertheless Lincoln swallowed his own rancor and chose Stanton because he recognized Stan- ton's thorough capability for the trying office. Stanton was destined to take a change of base before the end of the administration. Naturally considerable surprise was evinced at this appointment and when some one speaking of it, asked Stanton, "What will you do?" he arrogantly replied, "I will make Abe Lincoln Presi- dent of the United States." He, like Seward, felt that the country was safe with his hands on the wheel! Lincoln's friends grumbled that "Stanton would run away with the whole concern." At this Lincoln only smiled and was "reminded of a little story." "We may have to treat him," he laughed, "as they sometimes have to treat a Methodist preacher I know out West. He gets wrought up to so high a pitch of excitement in his prayers and exhortations that they 278 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN have to put bricks in his pockets to keep them down. We may be obliged to serve Stanton the same way, but I guess we'll let him jump awhile first." Although Stanton was afterwards one of the sin- cerest mourners at Lincoln's death bed in 1865, it was he who wrote in 1861, "No one can imagine the de- plorable condition of this city, and the hazard of the government who did not witness the weakness and panic of the administration and the painful imbecility of Lincoln." Moreover, in open hostility, he referred to the President as a "low, cunning clown," and spoke of him as "the original gorilla." In fact he used to say that Du Chaillu was a fool to go all the way to Africa to find a gorilla when he could easily see one in Washington. Words could hardly be stronger or more contemptuous than these ! And yet Lincoln was wise enough and tolerant enough to put up with such a man for the sake of his recognized ability. Stanton was an excitable, explosive soul and noth- ing is funnier than his dignified assertion, "I have al- ways tried to be calm." One of his explosions occurred when old Dennis Hanks was sent to Washington to in- fluence his cousin, the President, to release some Sang- amon men who had been jailed as "copperheads." Den- nis spent some time at the White House and both he and "Abe" enjoyed talking over old times and the log cabin days they had shared. As a souvenir of the visit Lincoln presented his old playmate with a watch which Dennis cherished all the days of his life. As for his mission, Lincoln said, "I will send for Mr. Stanton. That is his business." Stanton burst tempestuously into the room raging WAR! 279 that he would not let the men go ; they deserved a worse punishment than they got ! Lincoln waited for his heat to cool and then said quietly, "Let me have the papers to-morrow." Stanton stamped fuming from the room and as the door crashed behind him, Dennis said : "Abe, if I was as big and ugly as you, I would put that feller across my knee and spank him." "No, Dennis, I can't do that," Lincoln answered; "he is a valuable and able man and I am willing to endure his temper for the service he gives the Nation." That Lincoln thoroughly understood the irascible Stanton and knew how to humor him is shown in count- less anecdotes of the President's tact in skillful han- dling of the uncordial War Secretary. In none perhaps does this come out better than in the following: An important order of the President's was handed Stanton one day and he refused point blank to comply with it. "If Lincoln gave you that order," roared the hot- headed Secretary, "he is a damned fool." The Committee Chairman who presented the order, thus repulsed, trotted back to Lincoln. "Did he say I was a damned fool?" Lincoln asked. "Yes, he did." "Well, if Stanton says I am a damned fool, I must be one, for he is nearly always right! I'll just step over and see him." The President "stepped" and got what he wanted. It can be seen that Stanton was no easy man to work shoulder to shoulder with throughout the per- plexities of war! Secretary Welles, on the other hand, was a quiet and agreeable man, distinguished by being the only member 280 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN who did not habitually oppose Lincoln and who re- peatedly refused to sign Cabinet protests because "they would be discourteous to the President. ,, He carried on his work quietly and competently, and except for Seward, was the only man left of the original Cabinet when the second inaugural came around. Smith, Sec- retary of the Interior, was also a silent partner. The Cabinet kept falling to pieces and was changed about, not from any sudden revision, but from internal dis- integration. Bates, Attorney-General, tired of his office and resigned. James Speed, brother to old Josh Speed, Lincoln's bedfellow and confidant, ably filled his place. Blair (it is interesting to note that Montgomery Blair, Postmaster General, had been counsel for the slave in the famous Dred Scott case), however, after a violent personal dispute with Fremont, which took such a serious political turn that he shifted from the Repub- lican to the Democratic party, became so bitterly op- posed by the Republicans that Lincoln was obliged, reluctantly, to let him go. These were the men Lincoln often had to contend with when he should have been able to depend on them for loyal support and unity of purpose. To add to the rest of the friction, General George B. McClellan, first of the unsuccessful Commanders, proved particularly disappointing. Mrs. Lincoln had a quicker insight into the charac- ters of people than her husband. She followed all the President's affairs with close interest, and proved her- self very shrewd and farsighted in her comments. She had little patience with her husband's mildness and his WAR! 281 long-suffering attitude roused her often to snappish- ness. She was especially caustic in her remarks about Mr. Seward. She said, "I wish you wouldn't rely on that man so much, I tell you he is not to be trusted!" To which Lincoln only replied good-humoredly, "Why, you say the same thing of Chase, and if I listen to you I will soon be without any Cabinet at all !" "Better be without one, then, than confide in the one you have !" she snapped back. In regard to Mr. Chase, Mrs. Lincoln's intuition proved more accurate than the President's own. She had ever held that he was a "selfish, contriving politician," and always warned Lincoln not to trust him too far. When war broke, Lincoln made a master stroke in offering command of the Army of the Potomac to a West Pointer and Colonel of Engineers, a Virginian who had already made his mark in service in the Mexi- can War, at various posts, and among other things, in the capture of John Brown. This man was Robert E. Lee. Lincoln's offer, tendered Lee through Francis P. Blair, (the Postmaster General's brother), threw the peace-loving Virginian into a quandary. The story goes that all night long he paced the floor of his Arling- ton home, struggling with his conscience and his in- clinations and praying for guidance in decision. His decision and his reasons for it cannot be told by any one else so well as by himself. He said that if he owned "all the negroes in the South he would gladly yield them up for the preservation of the Union," but he could not fight against his native state. He refused Lincoln's offer, and of this refusal wrote his sister: 282 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN "The whole South is in a state of revolution into which, after a long struggle, Virginia has been drawn ; and though I recognize no necessity for this state of things, and would have forborne and pleaded to the end for redress of grievances real or supposed, yet in my own person I had to meet the question whether I should take part against my native state. With all my devotion to the Union, and the feeling of loyalty and duty of an American citizen, / have not been able to make up my mind to raise my hand against my rela- tives, my children, my home. I have therefore resigned my commission in the army." To his official resignation, dated April 20, 1861, Colonel Lee added the following personal note to Gen- eral Winfield Scott: "This would have been presented at once but for the 1 struggle it has cost me to separate myself from a service to which I have devoted the best years of my life, and all the ability I possessed. During the whole of that time — more than a quarter of a century — I have ex- perienced nothing but kindness from my superiors and a most cordial friendship from my comrades. To no one, General, have I been as much indebted as to your- ; self for your uniform kindness and consideration and it has always been my ardent desire to merit your ap- probation. I shall carry to the grave the most grateful recollections of your kindness and your name and fame will always be dear to me." On the same day Lee wrote to his brother : WAR! 283 "After the most anxious inquiry as to the correct course for me to pursue, I concluded to resign and sent in my resignation this morning. I wished to wait till the ordinance of secession should be acted upon by the people of Virginia but war seems to have com- menced, and I am liable at any time to be ordered on duty which I could not conscientiously perform. To save me from such a position and to prevent the neces- sity of resigning under orders, I had to act at once. I am now a private citizen and have no other ambition than to remain at home. Save in defense of my native State, I have no desire ever again to draw my sword." In place of such a man, the command of the Union Army went to George B. McClellan, whom we have met before as Vice-President of the Illinois Central Railroad, conducting Stephen A. Douglas in special trains to the debates. McClellan, like Seward and Stanton, felt that he alone could save the country and that Lincoln was fortunate to have him to call upon! 'The people call upon me to save the country," he wrote his wife im- portantly. "I must save it and cannot respect any- thing that is in the way. The President cannot or will not see the true state of affairs." "I am becoming daily more disgusted with this administration — per- fectly sick of it. I was obliged to attend a Cabinet meeting at 8 A. M. and was bored and annoyed. There are some of the greatest geese in the Cabinet I have ever seen — enough to tax the patience of Job." McClellan, however, liked to prate of ' 'saving the country," better than he liked action. During the time 284 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN Cameron was War Secretary, his inactivity, exasper- ating in the very face of the swiftly massing Confed- erates, was enough to try the patience not alone of Job, but of the long suffering President himself. McClel- lan, "Little Mac," as he was called, was little in more than name, and he failed to see that Abraham Lincoln was big in something more than body. As time went by, McClellan's contempt of the President became so marked that he actually allowed the Chief Executive to cool his heels waiting in an ante-room while the self- important little General took his own time about other business, and one night he even went to bed leaving the President of the United States waiting for him down- stairs. In spite of this, Lincoln was patient enough to say, 4i I will hold McClellan's horse if he will only bring us success." But as precious time slipped away and still "Little Mac" had accomplished nothing, and despondency sank like fog over the Union, Lincoln began to show im- patience. "I wonder whether McClellan means to do anything !" he exclaimed. "I should like to borrow the army of him a day or two !" It was about this time that the fiery Stanton came into office and the sparks began to fly instantly between him and the General. McClellan, adopting a policy of "masterly inactivity" that made "all quiet along the Potomac," a bitter by-word, seemed possessed by the hallucination that the enemy overwhelmed him in num- bers. He therefore did nothing but drill and dig him- self into the elaborate entrenchments that, as engineer, were his specialty. Behind these he held his men in- active, calling imperatively all the .time for more and WAR! 285 more troops like the elephant that cried, "More hay! more hay I" until Lincoln said with a grim smile, "Mc- Clellan is a good engineer, but he has a special genius for the stationary engine !" If "Little Mac" had only known that the Confederates numbered but 81,000 in- stead of 200,000, he might have evinced more activity, but as it was, he kept on complaining of his inferior numbers until Lincoln wrote, "Your dispatches com- plaining that you are not properly sustained, pain me very much," and he later added in sarcasm which passed over the General's head, "If at any time you feel able to take the offensive, you are not restrained from doing so." As for Stanton, he characteristically declared that if McClellan "had a million men he would swear that the enemy had two million and then he would sit down in the mud and yell for three!" In spite of these criticisms, it must, in fairness, be admitted that McClellan was a genius at organizing raw recruits into a well-drilled body, and he was very popular with his soldiers. Toward the end of December McClellan fell ill, and the long-hoped-for offensive had to be postponed until he recovered. Taking matters into his own hands then, Lincoln decided to study military tactics himself. Thus far he had gone on the conclusion that as he had once said of grammar, "He did not know the first thing about it," but when it dawned on him that those supposed to know the subject accomplished little, he put his mind to the matter and night and day con- centrated upon the military situation, studying strategi- cal works, maps, diagrams and reports, with all the old- time vigor that years before had marked his application 286 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN to the study of grammar and surveying. After long conferences with the country's leading military and naval men, Lincoln began to be well qualified to criti- cize and direct McClellan. This he proceeded to do, and in January exercised his first authority as Com- mander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy by ordering "a general movement of land and naval forces against the insurgents. ,, McClellan simply ignored this, and offered instead his own plan. Lincoln's grasp of the situation is plain enough from the letter he wrote in reply : "You and I have distinct and different plans for a movement of the Army of the Potomac; yours to be down the Chesapeake, up the Rappahannock to Urbana and across land to the terminus of the railroad on York River; mine to move directly to a point southwest of Manassas. "If you will give me satisfactory answers to the fol- lowing questions, I shall gladly yield my plan to yours. "i. Does not your plan involve a greatly larger ex- penditure of time and money than mine ? "2. Wherein is victory more certain by your plan than mine? "3. Wherein is victory more valuable by your plan than mine? "4. In fact, would it not be less valuable in this, that it would break no great line of the enemy's com- munications while mine would? "5. In case of disaster would not a safe retreat be more difficult by your plan than mine ? "Yours truly, "A. Lincoln." WAR! 287 In this Lincoln revealed himself a better chessman than his Major General. McClellan, in spite of this, took no action. Meanwhile, by a brilliant series of moves, Robert E. Lee was leading the Army of North- ern Virginia into positions of critical advantage. Forc- ing McClellan's hand, he pressed him hard at Manas- sas and Antietam. The breach broadened between McClellan and the Administration, and McClellan in private letters spoke in such scurrilous terms of Lincoln and Stanton as "treacherous hounds" and of the Capital as a "sink of iniquity." Knowledge of his attitude, leaking out, began his undoing. After infinite patience Lincoln saw fit to remove McClellan from command and afterwards the President confided in his old partner, Judge Herndon, "back home" that McClellan re- minded him of a cock fight he saw once in New Salem. A much bragged-of rooster proved a failure in the ring, but began to crow and strut about outside it. The disgusted owner picked up the little fowl, growl- ing, "Yes, you little cuss, you're great in dress parade, but you ain't worth a darn in a fight!" Lincoln had kept in touch with McClellan in the field, often visiting him in his tent and thus keeping a shrewd eye on the situation. McClellan did not rec- ognize the President's purpose on these visits and wrote home to his wife complaining impatiently that he had to hide to avoid being interrupted by the Presi- dent, Stanton or Seward who often hung about head- quarters and took up his time even when they had "nothing particular to say." At last one day, when Lincoln with his friend, General Frank Blair (the Blair who had tendered Lincoln's offer to Robert E. 288 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN Lee), were at headquarters, McClellan handed him a letter containing a savage attack upon Stanton. After reading this, without a word, Lincoln rose and left the tent. Depressed by a realization of the complications now of the political as well as the military situation, Lincoln strode on in silence for some time. Finally he addressed Blair: "Frank, I understand the man now. That letter is McClelland bid for the Presidency. I will stop that game. Now is the time to issue the Proclamation eman- cipating the slaves." CHAPTER XXVIII EMANCIPATION For a long time Lincoln had held the idea of "com- pensated emancipation/* that is, he proposed to have the Government buy all slaves, and free them, thereby saving the economic situation from being thrown out of joint as would surely happen if slave owners were sud- denly dispossessed of their property. He had first advanced this plan back in his days as Congressman when he drew up his resolution to have the Government pay a fair price for all slaves in the District of Colum- bia and give them liberty. This failed, but he still clung to the plan. On becoming President, he tried again, this time with Delaware. Delaware was still a slave state but as there were only 1798 slaves left in it, this seemed a good place to try out the scheme. So, without publicly an- nouncing the matter, he offered the citizens of Dela- ware, through their representatives in Congress, $400 apiece for each of their slaves on a time payment plan that would allow the Government some years to finance it without difficulty. Lincoln hoped that if Delaware adopted this, Maryland would follow suit and prove the key to gradual emancipation throughout the South. Unfortunately Delaware scornfully spurned the idea as an "abolition bribe/' and the situation remained deadlocked. Undismayed at the Delaware failure, Lincoln next 289 290 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN hopefully made a public appeal through Congress in a resolution "that the United States cooperate with any- State which may adopt gradual abolishment of slavery, giving to such State pecuniary aid to be used to compen- sate the inconveniences, public and private, produced by such change of system. ,, Lincoln believed that he had no legal right to stop slavery willy nilly in States where it was lawful, for he had sworn to "preserve, protect, and defend the law" and slavery was lawful in the South. But he thought that in this way a perfectly just settlement might be gradually made, and he added, "Gradual, not sudden, emancipation, in my judgement, is better for all. Such a proposition," he went on, "on the part of the general Government sets up no claims of a right by Federal authority to interfere with slavery within State limits, referring, as it does, the absolute control of the subject in each case to the State and its people immedi- ately interested. It is proposed as a matter of perfectly free choice to them. "The Union must be preserved and hence all indis- pensable means must be employed. War has been made and continues to be an indispensable means to this end. Upon acceptance of this national plan of emancipation the war could end at once." But the nation balked at this plan. Excuse was made that it was "too expensive" Lincoln retorted : "Less than one half -day's cost of this war would pay for all the slaves in Delaware at $400 per head. Less than 87 days' cost of this war would at the same price pay for all in Delaware, Maryland, District of Columbia, Kentucky and Missouri." EMANCIPATION 291 But the war was to drag on four long years more. His scheme was "too expensive T And still he was not discouraged. He tried again, this time negotiating with the South direct. On Feb- ruary 3, 1865, as he said afterwards, "Seward and I had a little expedition of our own." The President and Secretary of State went to Hampton Roads and held a conference on board their steamer with the Con- federate Vice-President and Secretary of War. Al- though this "little expedition' ' came to nothing, the meeting was a pleasant one. The Confederate Vice- President was Alexander H. Stephens, former Gov- ernor of Georgia, who had done his best to prevent his State's secession. Alexander H. Stephens was a broad-minded man, and a good friend of Lincoln's before the War when both were Congressmen. In those days Lincoln had written home to Mr. Herndon, his law partner, "Dear William: I just take up my pen to say that Mr. Stephens, a little, slim, pale-faced consumptive man, has just made the very best speech of an hour's length I ever heard." Recalling these old friendly congres- sional days, Lincoln greeted Stephens cordially and re- marked, as the little Georgian removed a huge coat and enormous muffler, "Well, well, well, Stephens, I never saw a smaller nubbin come out of so much husk !" The discussion turned seriously upon emancipation and its difficulties were referred to. Stephens said, "What will become of negro women and children and the old infirm slaves, if, as you propose, they are turned loose upon their own resources ?" To this Lin- coln, unwilling to commit himself entirely, replied that 292 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN he could only think of an Illinois farmer who raised hogs successfully and when asked how he did it replied, "I just turn 'em out of the pens and it's root, hog, or die." As a matter of fact this was exactly what did happen to the freed slaves in the end, despite the empty promises of carpet-baggers that they should all have "forty acres and a mule apiece." After much argu- ment pro and con, Lincoln showed a blank sheet of paper and pleaded, "Stephens, let me write 'Union* fat the top of that page and you may write below it\ anything else you please." "Union" was not written and Lincoln went home despondently with a copy of this resolution untouched in his pocket: that four hundred million dollars be appropriated by Congress to buy up all the slaves. Against this resolution his whole Cabinet took a stub- born stand save Mr. Seward, so Lincoln gave up hope- lessly saying: "Gentlemen, how long is the War going to last? It will not end in less than a hundred days, will it? It costs now four millions a day. That is four millions above the loss of life and property. But you seem to be against it, so I will not urge this matter further." There were four million slaves in the country at this time. Curiously enough, while the "land of the free" was at war over emancipation, Alexander II, Czar of dark Russia, freed twenty-three million Russian serfs with- out the shedding of one drop of blood. Strangely, too, Alexander, the Emancipator, like Lincoln, died by an assassin's hand. As for making a proclamation of emancipation, for EMANCIPATION 293 a long while Lincoln insisted that the time was "not yet ripe for it." Unnumbered were the hasty enthusiasts who kept urging him to it. In September, 1862, a whole dele- gation of Chicago ministers called upon him and vehe- mently demanded that he make the proclamation. They declared that he had been elected to free the slaves and that he must do so, and "do it now." Handling this delegation tactfully, Lincoln asked this pointed question: "Now, gentlemen, if I cannot en- force the Constitution down South, how am I to en- force a mere Presidential proclamation?" As the Chicago ministers turned to go away, one, more aggressive than the rest, came back and said, "What you have said to us, Mr. President, compels me to say in reply, that it is a message to you from our Divine Master, through me, commanding you, sir, to open the doors of bondage that the slave may go free!" Instantly Lincoln's repartee shot back: "If it is, as you say, a message from our Divine Master, is it not odd that the only channel he could send it to me by was the roundabout route by way of that awful wicked city of Chicago?" At another time still another deputation called to importune immediate freeing of the slaves, and to them Lincoln said, "If I issue a proclamation now, as you suggest, it will be ineffectual. It cannot be enforced. Now, by way of illustration, how many legs will a sheep have if you call his tail a leg?" "Five," they all answered promptly. "You are all mistaken," said Lincoln, tripping them up good- 294. THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN naturedly to illustrate his point, "for calling a tail a leg does not make it one, and calling the slaves free will not make them so." On the subject of the freedom of the slaves Lincoln studied, pondered and prayed, as he said wearily, "night and day for weeks and weeks and months and months. " After the actual Proclamation was made and toward the end of the war he called General Butler to him and said: "General Butler, I am troubled about the negroes. We are soon to have peace. We have some one hun- dred odd thousand negroes trained to arms. When peace comes I fear these colored men may organize themselves in the South into guerilla parties and we shall have warfare down there between whites and negroes. In the course of reconstruction it will be- come a question how the negro can be disposed of. Would it be possible to export them to some place, say Liberia, or South America, and organize them into communities to support themselves? Now, General, I wish you would examine the practicability of such exportation. . . . Will you give this your attention, and at as early a day as possible report to me your views ?" "Willingly," replied the General, who then bowed and retired. Some time later he returned and re- ported : "Here are some calculations which show that if you undertake to export all of the negroes, negro children will be born here faster than your whole naval and merchant vessels, if all were devoted to that use, can carry them out of the country." EMANCIPATION 295 "He examined my tables carefully for a considerable time," said the General, "and then looked up sadly and said, 'Your deductions seem correct, but what can we do?'" Liberia (the name means "Freedom" )" is a negro republic on the coast of West Africa, which was founded in 1822 by American philanthropists for freed slaves who wished to return to their native Africa or to enjoy political and social privileges denied them in the United States. For twenty-five years it remained under the tutelage of the United States government, but in 1847 was declared independent. It has never proved any more popular with our home negroes than Palestine promises to be with the Jews. Nevertheless, in spite of the fact that this colonization plan was not particularly successful, it was not wholly abandoned. It was one morning in June, 1862, that Lincoln began the first draft of the immortal Proclamation. Sitting, as he often did, at Major Eckert's desk in the cipher room of the War Department Telegraph Office, he asked for a piece of paper to "write something special." He was handed some foolscap and one of the small barrel pens supplied the cipher operators and with these he slowly began to write. He would write a few lines, and then look thoughtfully out of the window, as if the composing were either tremendously important or else very hard. The whole first day he worked at it he did not cover one sheet of the paper. That night he asked the Major to lock up the paper, for he wished no one to see it before it was complete. So he worked for several weeks, writing slowly, and revising again and again. Evidently he considered 296 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN what he was doing one of the most momentous things of his career. In midsummer of 1862 the President called a Cabinet meeting and placed the Proclamation before it. He made it plain that he had decided on the policy and wished suggestions merely as to subject matter. Secretary Seward approved of the proclamation but questioned the wisdom of issuing it at that time when the North had suffered so heavy reverses. He thought it would look like the desperate effort of a dying cause, and a cry for help, as if in its extremity the North was "stretching forth its hands to Ethiopia, instead of Ethiopia stretching forth her hands to the North.' ' Lincoln believed the Secretary's point well taken, so he put aside the Proclamation temporarily waiting for a victory. But things looked blacker and blacker. Pope's dis- aster at Bull Run in August was followed by the battle of Antietam. He could wait no longer. On September 22, 1862, he called another Cabinet meeting, summoning even Secretary of War Stanton, who was usually excused because of his other duties in connection with the war. When the men were gathered, Lincoln was reading a book which seemed to amuse him. "Gentlemen," he said, "did you ever read anything from Artemus Ward? Let me read you a chapter which is very funny." The busy Cabinet members thought this rather mis- placed humor. Not one of them smiled. The Secre- tary of War was angry. EMANCIPATION 297 Lincoln read on, however, to the chapter's end, and laughed heartily. Not a man joined him. "Well," he said, "let's have another chapter !" Then he read on to every one's amazement. Finally he threw down the book with a long sigh, saying : "Gentlemen, why don't you laugh ? With the fearful strain that is upon me day and night, if I did not laugh I should die, and you need this medicine as much as I do." Then he reached for his tall hat and pulled a little paper from its lining. He continued : "Gentlemen, I have called you here upon very im- portant business. I have prepared a little paper of much significance. I have made up my mind that this paper is to issue, that the time has come for it and that the people are ready for it." He then read the Emancipation Proclamation, that vital document which declared all persons held as slaves to be then, henceforward, and forever free ! The Cabinet members rose, moved by the importance of the moment. Secretary Stanton held out his hand to Lincoln, and said : "Mr. President, if the reading of chapters of Artemus Ward is a prelude to such a deed as this, the books should be filed among the archives of the nation, and the author should be canonized. Henceforth I see light and the country is saved." To this the others solemnly said, "Amen I" The Emancipation Proclamation was formally issued to the nation on New Year's Day, 1863. Secretary 298 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN Seward and his son, Frederick, who was his private secretary, brought the final draft to the President for signature at noon and as Lincoln took up the pen he made several aimless gestures with his wrist before signing, then laid down his pen and rubbed his fingers, explaining, "I have been shaking hands since nine o'clock this morning and my right arm is almost para- lyzed. If my name ever goes into history it will be for this act, and my whole soul is in it. If my hand trembles all who examine the document hereafter will say, 'He hesitated/ " Flexing his cramped fingers several times the Presi- dent finally picked up the pen again and firmly signed the famous "Abraham Lincoln." He examined it critically and then looked up and smiled. "That will do!" he said. CHAPTER XXIX LINCOLN AND HIS GENERALS The over-cautious McClellan was eventually re- placed, to Stanton's relief, by Burnside. Ambrose E. Burnside, a close friend of "Little Mac's," was a promising West Pointer, 38 years old, capable and well liked, but he modestly declared, "I am not competent to command such a large army." Events proved him correct. He was succeeded by Joseph Hooker, and on making this appointment Lincoln wrote Hooker: "I have placed you at the head of the army of the Potomac. Of course I have done this upon what ap- pear to me sufficient reasons, and yet I think it best for you to know there are some things in regard to which I am not quite satisfied with you. I believe you to be a brave and skillful soldier, which, of course, I like. I also believe you do not mix politics with your profession in which you are right. You have con- fidence in yourself which is a valuable if not indispens- able quality. You are ambitious, which, within reason- able bounds does rather good than harm, but I think that during General Burnside's command you have taken counsel of your ambition and thwarted him as much as you could, in which you did a great wrong to the country and to a most meritorious and honorable brother officer. I have heard, in such a way as to believe it, of your saying that both the Army and the 300 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN Government needed a dictator. Of course it was not for this, but in spite of it that I have given you the command. Only those generals who gain successes can set up dictators. What I now ask of you is military success and I will risk the dictatorship. The govern- ment will support you to the utmost of its ability, which is neither more nor less than it has done and will do for all commanders. I much fear that the spirit which you have aided to infuse into the army, of criticizing their commander and withholding confidence from him, will now turn upon you. I shall assist you as far as I can to put it down. Neither you nor Napoleon, if he were alive again, could get any good out of an army while such spirit prevails in it. And now beware of rashness. Beware of rashness, but with energy and sleepless vigi- lance go forward and give us victories. ,, The most striking thing about this letter is its revela- tion of the President's development into his fullest power as a self-possessed ruler. No longer a mere awkward country man, but confident, now, and sure of himself, Lincoln had risen to his full height as a great statesman and showed himself not hesitant to direct, command, criticize and advise constructively and im- peratively. Hooker, however, clashed with General Halleck and so much friction ensued within the army that Lin- coln at last took Hooker at his word and relieved him of command. Another General then took his place upon the war stage before the eyes of a discouraged public. George G. Meade, his successor, and Hooker's most caustic critic, took office at the crucial period when LINCOLN AND HIS GENERALS 301 Lee's army was plowing deep into Pennsylvania. Meade cut him off at historic Gettysburg and thus wrecked the Confederate dream of seizing Philadel- phia and dictating peace at old Independence Hall. But the victory was not wholly satisfactory, for it was not followed up and Lee skillfully retired across the Po- tomac, and got safely away when he was for a moment in the very clutches of the Union Army. In the intensity of his disappointment at Meade's hesitation, Lincoln sat down and wrote this criticism to the General: "You fought and beat the enemy at Gettysburg and of course, to say the least, his loss is as great as yours. He retreated, and you did not pursue him. A flood in the river detained him till by slow degrees you were again upon him. You had at least 20,000 veteran troops directly with you and as many more raw ones within supporting distance, while it was not possible that he had received a single recruit, and yet you stood and let the flood run down, bridges be built, and the enemy move away at his leisure without attacking him. I do not believe you appreciate the magnitude of the misfortune involved in Lee's escape. He was within your easy grasp, and to have closed upon him would, in connection with our other late successes have ended the war. As it is, war will be prolonged indefinitely. If you could not safely attack Lee last Monday, how can you possibly do so south of the river when you can take with you very few more than two-thirds of the force you then had in hand ? It would be unreasonable to expect, and I do not expect that you can now effect 302 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN much. Your golden opportunity is gone, and I am dis- tressed immeasurably because of it." On second thought Lincoln destroyed this letter, in which he had relieved his feelings, without ever send- ing Meade a copy, resolved to have patience and offered the commander further opportunity without criticism. The Battle of Gettysburg ended on the Fourth of July, 1863. In November of the same year the battle- field was solemnly dedicated as a national cemetery and at this dedication Lincoln made his famous Gettysburg address, now on the tongue of every schoolboy. Strangely enough it was Hon. Edward Everett, not Lincoln, who was to deliver the day's oration. The President was invited to be present, and after the ora- tion, "as Chief Executive of the Nation, to set apart these grounds formally to their sacred use by a few ap- propriate remarks." An advance copy of the long Everett oration was handed Lincoln beforehand, and when a friend laughed at its length, Lincoln smilingly quoted Daniel Webster : "Solid men of Boston make no long orations !" As for his own speech, Lincoln said it must be "short, short, short!" He wrote it out on a sheet of White House sta- tionery which he tucked in his pocket for the trip to Gettysburg, not at all satisfied that it was a good speech. Contrary to that pretty story, A Perfect Tribute, Lin- coln's Gettysburg address was interrupted again and again with hearty applause, and, as has been said, it is indeed an "imperfect tribute" to Lincoln to sup- pose he was the man to grieve at lack of applause "like LINCOLN AND HIS GENERALS 303 a brooding schoolgirl on graduation day." The truly- perfect tribute was rendered by the hostile Stanton, who said unreservedly, "Everett has made a speech that will make many columns in the newspapers and Mr. Lincoln's perhaps forty or fifty lines. Everett's is the speech of a scholar, polished to the last possibility. It is elegant and it is learned, but Lincoln's speech will be read by a thousand men where one reads Everett's and will be remembered as long as anybody's speeches are remembered who speaks the English language." Meade's failure to pursue Lee after the Battle of Gettysburg so disheartened Lincoln with the lack of progress each of his succeeding generals had made, that, completely downcast, he read Meade's congratu- latory letter to the troops and when he reached the phrase praising them on "driving the invader from our soil" he buried his face in his hands and cried out in anguish : "Drive the invaders from our soil! My God! is that all?" No wonder he echoed the nation's despairing cry for a general : "Give us a man !" At that moment the man, was rising. The same blood-stained July fourth that had seen Gettysburg brought Lincoln news also of triumph at Vicksburg and the name of Ulysses S. Grant began its ascendancy. While Lincoln was in despair at the hesitation and lack of decisive offiensive in the part of his other generals, Grant wrote his curt and famous note from Fort Donelson to the Confederate Com- mander : "No terms except unconditional and immediate sur- render can be accepted. I propose to move immediately upon your works." 304 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN The force of these ringing words brought hope in darkness to the despairing President. Here was a man! After Grant's victories at Donelson, Vicksburg and Chattanooga, Lincoln revived the rank of Lieu- tenant-General conferred only twice before in the coun- try's history, on Washington for service in the Revolu- tion and on Winfleld Scott for his Conquest of Mexico and but once since, upon General Pershing. This title was then conferred upon "Unconditional Surrender" Grant. A storm of protest rose from the country. Delega- tions were sent to the President urging Grant's dis- charge, but Lincoln was satisfied and immovable. "I can't spare this man," said he, "he fights!" When one committee called to demand Grant's re- moval Lincoln asked on what grounds they asked this, and the spokesman replied : "Mr. Lincoln, you as a teetotaler would be distressed to know that General Grant drinks." "Is that so!" commented the President, appearing dumfounded. "Then I wish you would find out what brand of whiskey he drinks for I should like to distrib- ute some of it among a few other generals I know!" "Since Grant has assumed command on the Potomac," said Lincoln with a deep sigh of relief, "I have made up my mind that whatever is possible to have done, Grant will do, and whatever he doesn't do, I don't believe is to be done, and now," he added earnestly, "we sleep at night!" Grant's plan was not one of complicated strategy. He proposed to win by plain hard fighting. As soon as he took command he sent Meade hotly after Lee with LINCOLN AND HIS GENERALS 305 the instruction: "Where Lee goes, there you will go also." In answer to Sherman's suggestion that he march south to hem the Confederates into Grant's northern onslaught, the Lieutenant-General wired, "Go on as you propose." It was in the spring, 1864, in ex- pressing his policy to the President that Grant made his celebrated statement : "I propose to fight it out on this line if it takes all summer'' PART VI War Times 'Let us have faith that Right makes Might: CHAPTER XXX THE WAR GRINDS ON The war ground on and Lincoln was battered and buffeted by such cruel adverse comment from people and press that it was not the war alone which cut all those deep familiar furrows in his cheeks. No less person than James Russell Lowell gave vent to this sort of thing : "I confess that my opinion of the government does not rise, to say the least. If we are saved it will be God's doing, not man's; and will He save those who are not worth saving? Lincoln may be right, for aught I know, — prudence is certainly a good drag upon vir- tue. Mr. Lincoln seems to have the theory of carrying on war without hurting the enemy. He is incapable, apparently, of understanding that they ought to be hurt! The doing good to those that spitefully treat us was not meant for enemies of the commonwealth. The devil's angels are those that do his work — for such there is a lake of fire and brimstone prepared. We have been undertaking to frighten the devil with cold pitch." At the very beginning of the war the morale of the army sank so low as to be well-nigh demoralized. An interviewer who was investigating the charges that desertion was rampant in the Union army said at the time: "I shall never forget the shock which his pres- ence gave us. Not more ghastly nor rigid was his dead face as he lay in his coffin. His introverted look and 310 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN his half -staggering gait were like those of a man walk- ing in sleep. He seemed literally bending under the weight of his burdens. . . . " 'I have no encouragement to give/ was his sad and blunt reply. The fact is, people haven't yet made up their minds that we are at war. They haven't buckled down to the determination to fight. They think there is a royal road to peace. The army has not settled down to the conviction that we are in a terrible war that has got to be fought out — no, and the officers haven't either. There are whole regiments that have two-thirds of their men absent — a great many by desertion and a great many on leave granted by com* pany officers, which is almost as bad. General McClel- lan is all the time calling for more troops and they are sent him but the deserters and furlough men out- number the recruits. To fill up the army is like under- taking to shovel fleas. You take up a shovelful' (suit- ing the word to an indescribably comical gesture) 'but before you can dump them anywhere they are gone!' " 'Do you mean that our men desert ?' we asked in- credulously, for in our glorifying of the soldiers we had not conceived of our men becoming deserters. " 'That is just what I mean/ replied the President, 'and the desertion of the army is just now the most serious evil we have to encounter. At the battle of Antietam, General McClellan had the names of about 180,000 men on the rolls. Of these 70,000 were absent on leave granted by company officers, which, as I said before, is almost as bad as desertion. For the men ought not to ask for furloughs with the enemy drawn up before them nor ought the officers to grant them. THE WAR GRINDS ON 311 About 20,000 more were in the hospital or detailed to other duties, leaving only some 90,000 to give battle. General McClellan went into the fight with this num- ber. But in two hours after the battle commenced, 30,000 had straggled or deserted. We have a strag- glers' camp out here in Alexandria and from that camp in 3 months General Butler has returned to their regiments 75,000 deserters and stragglers who have been arrested and sent there.' " 'Is not death the penalty of desertion?' " 'It certainly is.' " 'And does it not lie with the President to enforce this penalty ?' " 'Yes.' " 'Why not enforce it then? Before many soldiers had suffered death for desertion there would be an end to this wholesale depletion of the army.' " 'It might seem so, but if I should go shooting men by the scores for desertions, I should have such a hulla- baloo about my ears as I haven't had yet, and I should deserve it. You can't order men shot by the dozens or twenties. People won't stand it and they ought not to stand it. No, we must change the conditions of things in some other way.' " Had Lincoln but known it, Lee, later on, was con- fronted by the same problem and wrote of it in this letter to the Governor of South Carolina : "The state of despondency among our people is pro- ducing a bad effect upon the troops. Desertions are becoming very frequent and there is good reason to believe that they are occasioned to a considerable ex- 312 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN tent by letters written to the soldiers by their friends at home. I think some good can be accomplished by the efforts of influential citizens to change public senti- ment and cheer the despondent spirits of the people.'* Lee, too, had his hours of criticism and despair. In regard to the caustic comments he endured from newspapers he wrote whimsically, "At the beginning of the war, it seems that all the poor generals were put in the field and all the best ones made editors of news- papers. I do the best I can, and I often fail, but it seems that these newspaper generals know all along what I should have done. My only complaint is that they never tell me about it beforehand when it will do me any good. They only mention it afterwards! I shall be only too glad to resign my commission in favor of some of these superior men and I would then try to serve my country with all my might as the editor of a newspaper!" Lee, like Lincoln, found relief in humor from the constant strain he was under. He wrote home, for in- stance, "My coat is of gray, of the regulation style and pattern, my pants of dark blue as is also prescribed, partly hidden by my long boots. I have the same handsome hat which surrounds my gray head (the latter is not prescribed in the regulations) and shields my ugly face, which is masked by a white beard as stiff and wiry as the teeth of a card. In fact, an uglieg figure you have never seen and so unattractive is it to our enemies that they shoot at it whenever it is visible to them !" One of the most ironical aspects of the whole war THE WAR GRINDS ON 313 is connected with Robert E. Lee. He came into posses- sion of a number of slaves from his father-in-law who had promised them that after a certain lapse of time they should all go free. This promise was made years before the war. The appointed time came due during the darkest hour of the war, and Robert E. Lee, com- manding the forces fighting and dying to maintain the right to slavery, passed his slaves through his own military lines and sent them safely on to the North scot free, each supplied with money and provisions. Such glimpses of the men on the Southern side of the Potomac, only add to the sadness of the war's tragedy, by the evidence it gives that never are all the men on one side wholly good and those upon the other unmitigated villains only. Union sympathizers have grown so accustomed to thinking of their cause as righteous that they rarely realize how fearfully they were regarded as devastators, bringers of agony and destroyers of homes. To Southerners, naturally, Grant was a butcher and Sherman a robber-fiend. One charming lady from Virginia declared earnestly that she never knew until she was quite grown up that "damn-Yankee was not all one word !" It was Lincoln himself who considered Stonewail Jackson his ideal soldier and said of him, "He is a brave, honest, Pres- byterian soldier. What a pity that we should have to fight such a gallant fellow ! If we only had such a man to lead the armies of the North, the country would not be appalled by so many disasters." Jackson, a West Point graduate, had been a quiet and retiring man, fond of peace and, before the conflict, devotedly engaged, strange as it may seem, to a Sunday School class of 314* THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN little colored children. He had resigned from the army after the Mexican War, and was professor of natural philosophy at the Virginia Military Institute when the Civil War broke out. He was a man of great religious depths and his soldiers declared they could always tell when a big battle was imminent for then Jackson re- mained long in his tent upon his knees in prayer. When he was wounded, and Lee put in his place, Lee declared it would be better for his country if he should die in- stead of Jackson for Jackson's death would mean a greater loss to the Confederacy than a defeat in battle. In spite of fervent prayers of his most devoted friends and followers, Jackson passed out of the storm of warfare with these last beautiful words to his family: "Let us cross over the river and lie down under the trees on the other side." So passed a gentle soul bit- terly classed as "the enemy." On went the war relentlessly, and when asked point blank one day how many men he supposed the Con- federates had, Lincoln answered with remarkable promptness : "They have 1,200,000 in the field." "Why, can that be possible ! How do you know r "Well," said Lincoln with a smile, "every Union General I ever heard tell of always said the Rebels out- numbered him three or four to one. Now we have about 400,000 men and three times that number makes 1,200,000, doesn't it?" On another day the operators in the Government telegraph office, receiving details of a slight skirmish in which no more than 30 or 40 prisoners were taken, heard the President say drily, "By the time the news- THE WAR GRINDS ON 315 papers write up and exaggerate this encounter you may be sure all the little Colt revolvers will have grown into horse pistols!" This twist of Lincoln's humor brightened many a black hour. His stories, however, were always used to make some definite point, and never merely for humor- ous pastime. One night, when slapped too familiarly upon the knee by a presumptuous young man who re- marked cheerily, "Mr. President, tell us one of your good stories !" the President drew himself up with dig- nity and said : "I believe I have the popular reputation of being a story teller, but I do not deserve the name in its general sense, for it is not the story itself, but its pur- pose or effect that interests me. I often avoid a long and useless discussion by others or a laborious explana- tion on my own part by a short story that illustrates my point of view. So too, the sharpness of a refusal or the edge of a rebuke may be blunted by an appro- priate story so as to save the wounded feeling and yet serve the purpose. No, I am not simply a story-teller, but story-telling as an emollient saves me much fric- tion and distress." With such a pointed story he summed up the foreign situation which was perplexing the Cabinet one day when Lincoln began: "The situation reminds me of a fix I got into some thirty years ago when I was peddling notions on the way from Indiana to Illinois. We came across a small farmhouse full of children who ranged in age from 17 years all the way down to 17 months old, and all were in tears. The mother was red-headed, red-faced 316 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN and held a whip. She turned on me and said, What do you want ?' I saw that an insurrection had taken place and been quelled and it was no place for me to offer notions so I meekly said, 'Nothing, Ma'am, I only dropped in as I passed along.' She said, 'Well, you needn't wait ! I can manage my own family rows with- out the help of any outsiders. I'll teach these brats their places if I have to lick the hide off every last one of them, but I don't want no outsider sneaking around trying to find out how I do it either/ "That's the case with us," said the President, "we must let the other Nations know we propose to settle our own family rows and teach these brats (the seced- ing states) their places if we have to 'lick the hide* off each and every one of them and like the old woman we don't want any outsiders 'sneakin' 'round' and look- ing on while we are doing it, either. Now then, Seward, you just write a few diplomatic notes to that effect." Even though "outside Nations" were kept off, the "family row" within included much friction in the North itself. To a delegation of Abolitionists, headed by Wendell Phillips, who upbraided Lincoln impatiently for not immediately carrying out the principles of the Procla- mation successfully in the South, Lincoln said bitterly, "It has been very rare that an opportunity of running this Administration has been lost." Mr. Phillips patronizingly said that Lincoln's opportunity for re- election depended on whether "we see the Administra- tion earnestly working to free the country from slavery and its rebellion." As if, indeed, Lincoln were idle and THE WAR GRINDS ON 317 indifferent to this matter which filled his whole soul! Wearily the President responded, ''Oh, Mr. Phillips, I have ceased to have any personal feelings or expecta- tions in that matter, so abused and borne upon as I have been!" And as the Abolitionists went away Lin- coln's last tired words to them in dismissal were: "I must bear this load which the country has entrusted to me as well as I can and do my best." Not even Lincoln's messages to Congress were allowed to pass uncriticized. The language he used was objected to as unconventional, and too colloquial for use in formal State papers. At the suggestion that they be rewritten to conform more closely to the usual style, he replied firmly, "Let them stand as written. The people can understand that language." An in- stance of this kind appears in connection with a sen- tence written by Lincoln to read, "With rebellion thus sugar-coated they have drugged the public mind." The Government printer complained to the President that a message to Congress was a different thing from a stump speech to countrymen, and that as these mes- sages became historical documents they ought to be carefully written. "Well, what's the matter now ?" Lincoln asked. "You have used the undignified phrase 'sugar- coated,' " said the printer, "and if I were you I would change it." "That word exactly expresses what I mean," Lin- coln replied, "and I am not going to change it. The time will never come in this country when people won't know exactly what 'sugar-coated' means!" 318 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN This is an example of the small things about which the President was continually being hectored. Such rancor rose among the very Cabinet members that for over a year Lincoln avoided contention with them by simply not calling any Cabinet meeting at all, in which, after all, he found Mrs. Lincoln's advice about "better have no Cabinet than the one you now have" very useful! One day twenty Senators called on the President in a body denouncing Stanton's con- duct of the war. They did not daunt the President, who parried with a remark about Blondin the dare- devil who crossed Niagara on a tight rope. "Would you," he asked, "keep shouting to him as he went, when any false step meant sure death? Would you cry out to him all the time, 'Stoop a little more. Go a little faster! Slow up! Lean a little more to the north! More to the south?' No, you would keep your mouths shut. Now we are doing the best we can. The Government is crossing a tight rope; don't badger it. Keep silent and we will get safely across." The vindictiveness which constantly assaulted Lin- coln went deeper than mere complaints and criticism. Threats were made, and precaution against assassina- tion was the constant anxiety of his bodyguard, espe- cially as Lincoln fearlessly exposed himself too often to unnecessary danger. During the hot summer Lin- coln spent his nights not at the White House, but out in the cool loveliness of the Soldiers' Home beyond the city's hot pavements. The carelessness with which the President often gave his guardsmen "the slip" and rode back and forth between the Capital and the Soldiers' THE WAR GRINDS ON 319 Home at night was the subject of keen alarm for all the Cabinet and especially for Marshal Lamon. Lincoln once remarked to some one who took him to task for his carelessness in exposing himself to risk : "Mother has got a notion in her head that I shall be assassinated, and to please her I take a cane when I go over to the War Department nights — when I don't forget it. I long ago made up my mind that if any- body wants to kill me he will do it. If I wore a shirt of mail and kept myself surrounded by a bodyguard it would be all the same. There are a thousand ways of getting at a man if it is desired he should be killed." Though warned of danger again and again, Lincoln rode out to the Home alone after dark one night upon his favorite horse, "old Abe," and was fired upon by some one hiding in the bushes, the bullet piercing his high silk hat. After this, precautions were redoubled, and an escort never left him to ride the streets alone. Walt Whitman used to watch the President's little cavalcade pass each day and says of it : "I saw him this morning about 8.30 coming in to business, riding on Vermont Avenue, near L Street. He always has a company of twenty-five or thirty cavalry, with sabers drawn and held upright over their shoulders. They say this guard was against his per- sonal wish, but he let his counselors have their way. The party makes no show in uniform or horses. Mr. Lincoln in the saddle generally rides a good-sized, easy- going gray horse, is dressed in plain black, somewhat rusty and dusty, wears a black stiff hat, and looks about as ordinary in attire, etc., as the commonest man. A 320 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN lieutenant, with yellow stripes, rides at his left, and following behind, two by two, come the cavalrymen, in their yellow striped jackets. They are generally going at a slow trot, as that is the pace set them by the one they wait upon. The sabers and accouterments clank, and the entirely unornamental cortege, as it trots towards Lafayette Square, arouses no sensa- tion, — only some curious stranger stops and gazes. Sometimes the President goes and comes in an open barouche. The cavalry always accompany him, with sabers drawn. Often I notice as he goes out evenings — and sometimes in the morning, when he returns early — he turns off and halts at the large and hand- some residence of the Secretary of War, on K Street and holds conference there. If in his barouche, I can see from my window he does not alight, but sits in his vehicle and Mr. Stanton comes out to attend him. Sometimes one of his sons (Tad), a boy of ten or twelve, accompanies him, riding at his right on a pony." Although Lincoln seemed somewhat affected by his wife's premonition of assassination, he was "incor- rigibly skeptical/' the watchful Lamon says, "with one solitary exception." This was "one Garowski, a Polish exile, as many believed. He was an accomplished linguist, a revolu- tionist by nature, restless, revengeful, and of fiery and ungovernable temper." It was Marshal Lamon's duty to be on the alert for such suspicious characters and of this one he reports : "He had been employed in the State Department as a translator, but had quarreled with Mr. Seward and was discharged. This caused him to pursue Lincoln and Seward with bitter hatred. THE WAR GRINDS ON 321 From this man and from him alone Mr. Lincoln really apprehended danger by violent assault, although he knew not what the sense of fear was like, Mr. Lincoln once said : 'So far as my personal safety is concerned, Garowski is the only man who has given me a serious thought. From his disposition he is dangerous and I have sometimes thought that he might try to take my life. It would be just like him to try to do such a thing.' " There was ample reason to fear others beside this man, had Lincoln been of a fearful nature. From the very day of his nomination, threatening letters were a common occurrence in the day's mail. Lincoln kept them filed together, tied in a bundle coolly labeled "Assassination," and, speaking of them, he once said, "Oh, yes, when I got the first one or two I felt a little uncomfortable, but now I look forward to them as a regular installment. You know," he said, his face creasing into a smile, "There is nothing like get- ting used to things!" Personal danger from assassination disturbed the President far less than the war and deaths of others. Night after night his feet could be heard pacing up and down, up and down, up and down the White House floor until long after the hush of that zero hour, two o'clock in the morning, while he wrestled with the mental anguish that was his with every battle and every danger to the Union's integrity. "Oh, this bloody war, this awful, awful war, could we have avoided it? Will it never end, will it never, never end?" he cried out in agony after news of a particu- larly heavy loss of troops. Controlled by day, his 322 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN emotions broke from him in sleep and then the cries and moaning from his tortured heart distressed the night watchman on guard on the .White House cor- ridors. The frightful slaughter at Fredericksburg wrung from the grieving President the bitter cry, "Oh, no man out of hell suffers more than I do!" Beneath this fearful strain Lincoln's mind might have given way save for one thing. A group of men, waiting in the passageway outside the office where Lincoln was engaged one day, heard his outburst of merry un- restrained laughter and one of Lincoln's friends re- marked significantly, "That laugh has been the Presi- dent's life preserver!" The spirit which enabled him to laugh supported Lincoln to face and desire reelection to office that he might finish the work he had started. His first term as President was nearly over and there began to be talk of new nominations. Grant's name was sug- gested, but of this Lincoln said, "I don't think they can get him to run. If he is the great General we think he is, he must have some consciousness of it and know that he cannot be satisfied with himself and secure the credit due for his great generalship if he does not finish his job. No, I don't believe they can get him to run." They could not. Though his name was inevitably put up, Grant declined so forcibly as to leave no doubt of his determination. He was not nominated; Lincoln was, and who should run against him on the Democratic ticket but McClellan. Mc- Clellan's platform was "the war is a failure, peace at all hazards!" Cartoons of the day represented him THE WAR GRINDS ON 323 holding together the map of the United States which Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis were pictured as tearing apart between them, the one crying, "No peace without Abolition!" the other, "No peace with- out Separation!" Needless to say, McClellan, the Democratic candi- date, lost this election. Lincoln was informed of his reelection by a serenade at 2 o'clock in the morning under his empty White House window. He was at work at that hour in the War Office and was sum- moned home to answer the serenaders. His impromptu speech wound up : "If I know my heart, my gratitude is free from any taint of personal triumph. I do not impugn the motives of any one opposed to me. It is no pleasure to me to triumph over any one, but I give thanks to the Almighty for this evidence of the people's resolution to stand by free Government and the rights of humanity." When congratulated by some delegates eager to have "long Abe four years longer," Lincoln merely replied that it was dangerous to change an Adminis- tration in the midst of war, or as he vividly put it in his own words, "It is best not to swap horses crossing a stream," adding ruefully, "They must have concluded that I am not so poor a horse that they might not make a botch of it by trying to swap now." Grant's telegram of congratulation was character- istically blunt and forceful : "It is a victory worth more to the country than a battle won." The ceremonies of the Second Inaugural were marked by the strained solemnity of wartime. Again the eastern plaza was thronged but this multitude was 324 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN signally different from that of four years ago. Uni- forms were everywhere evident, the black gowns of women marked the interlude of loss and mourning, the white sea of upturned facesi the Interior, an ardent secessionist and one who had done much in his official position to disorganize the country just prior to Lincoln's inauguration; he had been chief instigator in many a raid since. "Well," said the President, slowly, wiping his hands, "when you've got an elephant by the hind leg and he's trying to run away it's best to let him run." Official business over for the day, and lunch once more the pleasant family gathering breakfast had been, the President and Mrs. Lincoln went for a drive that afternoon. When asked whether he wanted any one in particular to accompany them, Lincoln said affec- tionately : LINCOLN'S LAST DAY 387 "No, no, Mother, let's be by ourselves and have a good talk." Driving together he spoke to his wife of his dream, saying, "It seems strange how much there is in the Bible about dreams and visions. If we believe the Bible we must accept the fact that in the old days God and His Angels came to men in their sleep and made themselves known in dreams." He seemed so restless and worried that Mrs. Lincoln was surprised and asked him if he really believed in dreams. "Well, Mother," Lincoln confessed, "I don't know that I do, but I had one the other night that has haunted me ever since." Mrs. Lincoln urged him to tell her; but Lincoln seemed reluctant. He referred to the illusion in the mirror which he had noticed in Springfield just after his election in which he had seen two images of his own face reflected, one full of the glow of life, the other a shadow of ghoulish pallor, which Mrs. Lin- coln at the time had fearfully interpreted as meaning two terms of office, with death in the second one. In view of this unforgotten "sign," Lincoln seemed unduly disturbed over the dream, which after consid- erable persuasion he finally told her: "About ten days ago I retired very late. I had been up waiting for important dispatches from the front. I could not have been long in bed when I fell into slumber, for I was weary. I soon began to dream. There seemed to be a death-like stillness about me. Then I heard subdued sobs as if a number of people were weeping. I thought I left my bed and wandered downstairs. There the silence was broken by the same pitiful sobbing, but the mourners were invisible. I 388 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN went from room to room and no living person was in sight, but the same mournful sounds of distress met me as I passed along. It was light in the rooms, every object was familiar to me, but where were all the people who were grieving as if their hearts would break? I was puzzled and alarmed. What could be the meaning of all this? Determined to find the cause of a state of things so mysterious and so shocking, I kept on until I arrived at the East room, which I entered. "There I met with a sickening surprise. Before me was a catafalque on which rested a corpse wrapped in funeral vestments. Around it were stationed soldiers as guards, and there was a throng of people, some gazing mournfully at the corpse whose face was cov- ered, others weeping pitifully. " 'Who is dead in the White House?' I demanded of one of the soldiers. 'The President/ was his an- swer. 'He was killed by an assassin.' Then came a loud burst of grief from the crowd which awoke me from my dream. I slept no more that night and although it was only a dream, I have been strangely annoyed by it ever since." "Horrible!" his wife shuddered. "Oh, dear, I almost wish you had not told me! I am glad I do not believe in dreams or I should be in mortal terror from now on !" "Well, Mary," said the doomed President, "it is nothing but a dream, let us say no more about it." After this confession, a burden seemed lifted from Lincoln's mind and he appeared once more unusually light-hearted. His mood was not reflected by his wife who remained depressed and when chided re- LINCOLN'S LAST DAY 389 sponded gloomily, "You were in just such a happy frame of mind, you remember, on the afternoon be- fore Willie died." Lincoln, however, refused to indulge in further melancholy and to buoy up her spirits went on to plan their future, saying: "Well, Mary, we have had a hard time of it since we came to Washington, but the war is over and with God's blessing we may hope for four years of peace £ and happiness and then we will go back to Illinois and pass the rest of our lives in quiet." He went on to talk of the "little house on Eighth Street"; the law office where the dingy signboard, "Lincoln and Hern- don, Attorneys," was still swinging out in sun, rain and snow faithfully awaiting his return. He laughed boyishly over old circuit court days and looked for- ward eagerly to private home life in familiar Spring- field once more. "We have laid by some money and during this term we will try and save up more," he planned, "but even so we shall not have enough to support us. I will go back and practice law and earn enough for our liveli- hood." So gayly enthusiastic did he become in talking over their future, that Mrs. Lincoln said, "I don't believe I ever saw you happier than you are to-day!" To this he replied : "And well may I feel so, Mary, for I consider that this day the war has come to a close. Now we must be more cheerful in the future, for between the ter- rible war and the loss of our darling son we have suffered much misery. Let us both try now to be happy." CHAPTER XXXVI THE ASSASSINATION So, happily laying plans for a peaceful and unofficial future, Lincoln and his wife drove back to the White House. Stepping out of the carriage he spied a group of his friends, among them Richard Oglesby, the Governor of his home state, Illinois. Governor Oglesby, it will be remembered, had been chairman at the Republican Convention that, with the help of John Hanks and his rails, had nominated Lincoln. These men were walking away across the town toward the Treasury. "Come back, boys! Come back!" Lincoln hailed them like a carefree school boy. They turned and hastened back smiling, and meeting with hearty handshakes under the wide portico the party went inside. The group remained in hilarious comradeship for some time, until as it grew later and later Mrs. Lin- coln repeatedly and impatiently sent for the President to come to dinner. "Yes, yes/' he would assent and then forget all about dinner in some humorous sally until he received a peremptory order to "come to din- ner at once!" The doorkeeper explained apologetically to Gov- ernor Oglesby that the President had an engagement to attend a theater party immediately after dinner and as he had dallied so long he was in danger of being 390 THE ASSASSINATION 391 late. Sad that he had not remained laughing and talk- ing with his friends there at home all the evening ! The theater party, however, had been made up by Mrs. Lincoln, who had invited General and Mrs. Grant as her guests to see Laura Keene's farewell appear- ance in a benefit performance of the clever and amus- ing play, "Our American Cousin," at Ford's Theater on Tenth and E Streets. Mrs. Lincoln had only ordered the box that morn- ing, but the theater manager had promptly taken ad- vantage of the Presidential party's patronage to an- nounce in all the afternoon papers that the evening's audience would have an opportunity to see "the Presi- dent and his lady," as well as the "Hero of Ap- pomattox," at Miss Keene's benefit. The house there- fore was well packed with light-hearted spectators allowing themselves, like Lincoln, this relaxation from the long strain of war and mourning. Despite the fact that it was Good Friday the theater was filled with a fun-loving crowd. Especial preparations had been made for the Presi- dent's party. A partition had been removed between the allotted boxes at the left of the stage, comfortable upholstered chairs had been substituted and across the whole front of the box there was draped an American flag which later played its part in the evening's tragedy. The house was filled by eight o'clock, but, as we have seen, the President was late ! He had not dressed nor finished dinner before 8 o'clock and as General Grant and his wife had broken the engagement at the last minute to go north unexpectedly, Lincoln said, "Mary, let's give up the party." But Mrs. Lincoln had in- £92 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN vited two young friends, the daughter of Senator I. Harris and his stepson (her fiance), Major H. R. Rathbone, to take the place of General and Mrs. Grant. She therefore impatiently urged Lincoln to "hurry, hurry!" and not to "disappoint the people/' In the meantime a slim, dark, sinister figure had skulked about the theater at intervals all day and was not far away at the hour when the audience sat in rustling expectancy for the President to appear. John Wilkes Booth, an actor, had ready and familiar access to Ford's Theater and as soon as he learned of the President's attendance had laid his evil plans. The stage scene shifter, Edward Spangler, not realizing Booth's sly purpose had unwittingly given him aid during the day by lending him tools and al- lowing him freedom behind the scenes. Booth had with him a young dandy, David C. Herrold, appointed to serve as his aide. These two conferred with Spangler and were seen whispering at the theater door before the President arrived. They disappeared into a saloon. One of the saddest and most ironical aspects of Booth's deed was the fact that only a few days before this he had been granted a personal interview at the White House where the President had cordially shaken his hand and said : "I am happy to welcome you as the son of the elder Booth and for the sake of your talented brother." Booth thus kept in constant and close touch with his victim. On the day before the assassination, know- ing of a special performance to be given at the National Theater, Booth, well acquainted with all the theater THE ASSASSINATION 393 managers, had gone there to gossip and then in an offhand way he inquired if they intended to invite the President. "Oh, yes," said Mr. Hey, the manager, "and that reminds me. I must send the invitation." He forthwith did so, but as plans were already made for Ford's Theater, only little Tad attended the Na- tional Theater's performance as the White House rep- resentative. He was watching this play when his father was shot at the other theater. Although the original party had been changed, it was now such a matter of general interest that the President would appear that night in the theater that Lincoln finally complied in order not to disappoint the public. He therefore attended the theater, half- heartedly, his party arriving about the middle of the first act. His entry was greeted by an interruption of the performance, and loud applause. The audience rose to its feet, women waved handkerchiefs, the or- chestra struck up "Hail to the Chief !" The President stepped to the front of the box and bowed. He then sank into a rocking chair to the front and left. Mrs. Lincoln took her seat in front on the right. Miss Harris sat close by Mrs. Lincoln, a little behind, and Major Rathbone sat near his fiancee, behind the ladies on an old-fashioned sofa that ran along the right wall. Ill-fated was the party in the box that night; Lin- coln was soon to be shot ; his stricken widow in conse- quence lived out her days in madness; one of the lovers was to slay the other and end his life a raving maniac ! Unconscious of their fates the party settled down to the entertainment. The play then continued, the 394 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN audience delighted with the fun and clever nonsense. The performance went merrily on with no intimation of the tragedy even then approaching. When certain that the President was seated within, Booth began his work, instructing Herrold to join him after it. He had hired swift horses for himself and Herrold, at a livery, and handing the bridle of his horse to the mounted Herrold at the stage door ordered him to wait there. All day long Booth had kept him- self inflamed with liquor, and now, reenforcing him- self yet again with another glass of brandy at the saloon, he entered the theater and proceeded, as planned, upstairs. He walked quickly and quietly along the passage to the President's box, and, en- countered by the guard, audaciously got past him by the assurance with which he handed his own personal card! Lincoln's usual bodyguards were off duty and the substitute had gone downstairs and was at that moment watching, not the President, but the play. Booth therefore stepped without interruption into the passageway behind the boxes and barred the passage door shut with a slat he had put ready for that pur- pose beforehand. He then stepped cautiously to the box and peered in through a hole he had previously bored in the door which he had planned to fire through if his entrance was blocked. Bending for a careful look at the President's position, he cocked his trigger and with pistol in one hand and dagger in the other, slunk into the box while the attention of all there was riveted on the stage. Major Rathbone afterwards told that the last he remembered of the play was the second scene of the THE ASSASSINATION 395 third act, where Sothern, as Lord Dundreary, ap- peared on the stage with Laura Keene as the heroine, Miss Meredith, leaning upon his arm. He carried her shawl, and as the heroine sank upon a rustic bench, she said languidly, "Me Lord, will you kindly throw my shawl over my shoulders — there appears to be a draught here." "Dundreary," with the shawl, ad- vanced in his famous mincing steps, and with a smile directed up at Lincoln responded in clever impromptu apropos of the happy occasion of the armistice, "You are mistaken, Miss Mary, the draft has already been stopped, by order of the President !" Lincoln laughed, and as he laughed a pistol shot cracked. The laugh died from the President's face, his eyes closed and his head sank a little forward. He made no sound; he did not stir. Major Rathbone sprang up, and dis- cerning through the acrid pistol smoke a man stand- ing between Lincoln's chair and the door, leapt upon him, but received a violent dagger blow in the breast that nearly proved fatal. Freed from Rathbone, and satisfied that he had killed the President, Booth ran now forward and shouted loudly, "Sic semper tyrannis!" Major Rath- bone again plunged at him and clutched his clothes, but was beaten off with deadly knife thrusts through the left arm as the assassin, putting both hands on the box railing, vaulted to the stage below. In doing so his spur caught on the flag that draped the box and he fell, sprawling on all fours upon the stage among the actors in the interrupted scene. Scrambling up, with uncertain steps, he flourished his dagger dramati- cally and vanished behind the wings. 396 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN So unexpected was the pistol shot; so sudden his disappearance, that for a moment the bewildered au- dience thought it was all part of the play and stunned by astonishment sat as motionless as if petrified. Then a long-drawn-out scream from Mrs. Lincoln pierced the air and the theater was in turmoil. Rathbone, streaming with blood, yelled out to the audience, "Stop That Man !" but dazed by surprise, no one was quick enough to accomplish this. Shouting "The President is shot!" the Major then rushed to the door and found the passage barred. The theater now be- came a scene of pandemonium. A rumor started that the place was to be bombed and a mad fight for exits ensued. In answer to Rathbone's cry for a physician some men below the President's box lifted Dr. Charles Taft up from the audience and over flag and railing where Booth had jumped down. The doctor found the Presi- dent still seated motionless, his eyes closed, head bent. The pistol that had shot him lay on the floor behind his chair, lost in the scuffle. It was a single-barreled percussion Derringer, shorter than the fashionable old- school dueling pistol, and its large bullet, entering the President's skull from behind lodged back of the left eye. Examination at once showed the wound to be fatal, and death only a matter now of minutes or hours at best. Major Rathbone, at the end of his en- durance, fainted from fearful loss of blood and was later carried home in a critical condition. As soon as the significance of the shot was recog- nized, Laura Keene, the stage star, had run from the stage to the box, and busied herself there tenderly THE ASSASSINATION 397 assisting the frantic Mrs. Lincoln, who, half sunk by her husband's side, kept moaning as she gesticulated madly. Miss Keene, on her way back downstairs on some errand was encountered convulsed with tears, the costume of her part in the play disarranged and her dress, hands and even her face, where, aghast, she had pressed her trembling fingers, were daubed with the President's blood. The actress, encountered thus on the stairs by Senator Munroe, was described as "lately the central figure in the scene of comedy, now the incarnation of tragedy." Mr. Munroe begged her to tell whether Mr. Lincoln was still alive. "God only knows!" she gasped, and hastened on downstairs where troops were already taking posses- sion of the building and struggling to clear the street. Messengers had been sent to summon the Surgeon- General, Dr. Stone, the family physician, the Cabinet members, and preparations were made to remove the wounded President to the White House. An army ambulance was ordered drawn up to the stage door for this purpose. Soon the Surgeon-General in uniform was recognized and assisted by many in the audience with arms and shoulders to climb up into the box. Upon arrival of the physicians, however, further exam- ination showed it inadvisable to attempt the removal, and the ambulance order was canceled. Directly across the street from the theater there shone a light in an open doorway where a man stood peering out into the commotion on Tenth Street. A messenger ran across there to explain that the Presi- dent was shot and to inquire whether accommodation 398 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN could be furnished him so near at hand. The house owner, Mr. Olroyd, exclaiming, "Surely! Surely!" led the way into a neat bedroom at the foot of the hall on the first floor and word was sent to bring the dying President there. People crowding against the troopers in the street caught a glimpse of the President's limp form carried on what appeared to be a door or window shutter by several shuffling bearers. The President was quite un- conscious, his head was hanging down and wobbling with the uncomfortable motion of the improvised stretcher, while blood dripped slowly from the wound and blotched the pavement. He was placed in bed with the least possible disturbance and anxious watchers grouped about it or paced restlessly outside in the hall- way. In the meanwhile, news of the assassination, coupled with word of an attack on Secretary Seward, had spread all over the city and the wildest excitement and fears were maintained. Streets were swiftly filled with hurrying noisy crowds, windows were thrown open, shouts exchanged, the wildest rumors and conjectures circulated. Around Tenth Street uncontrolled disorder reigned and men running to the Avenue shouting, "My God, the President's shot!" awoke other streets to scenes unequaled since war panics. Some one passed the word around that Wilkes Booth had been recognized; then came a high pitched cry from another direction, "Secretary Seward's stabbed to death!" Within and without the theater was an unchecked chaos. Shouts of "Lynch him, lynch him!" inflamed the populace to THE ASSASSINATION 399 a roaring madness, ropes and torches were produced and the mob ran aimlessly about. When the news reached the National Theater in the middle of the play an announcement was made from the stage, and the performance dismissed. Little Tad, sitting in the audience, thus unmercifully heard the abrupt news of his father's murder and gave vent to such heartbreaking screams that some one hastily took the hysterical child home to the White House. Robert Lincoln, in the meantime, with Major Hay, entered a carriage and drove as rapidly as possible through the excited crowd to Tenth Street, where some one informed them that the President, his whole party, Mr. Seward and all the cabinet had been murdered. This seemed so entirely improbable that they jumped out of the carriage and ran up the steps of the Olroyd house hoping the whole thing was a mistake and that the President's wound was only superficial after all. Dr. Stone, however, met them gravely at the little bedroom door and brokenly told them there was no hope. The President, shot a few minutes after ten, had received a wound that would have killed most men instantly and though his vitality still sustained life it was impossible for him to survive. After bending sorrowfully over his dying father, Robert devoted himself to his half -deranged mother, whose mainstay he became. After it was all over he took her from the deathbed to the White House. Robert henceforth assumed the family responsi- bility and became his bereaved mother's chief comfort and reliance through all the sad long years of her sorrow and ensuing insanity. Robert it was who 400 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN superintended his young brother's education, and, as would indeed have pleased his father, himself became Secretary of War from the years 1881 to 1885 an d served as United States Minister to England from 1889 to 1893. He is still living to-day (1924). Thoughts for the future, however, were not in Robert's dazed mind during the grief and confusion of that fatal night when he entered the Tenth Street house to find his father dying. The bed upon which his father was stretched was under a flaring gas jet. The body lay as immovable as death, though at intervals there was still audible his irregular breathing. Around the bedside stood At- torney-General Speed, Judge Otto, the Reverend Mr. Gurley, the President's pastor, and Secretary Stanton, the latter writing telegrams and despatching mes- sengers. The night wore on. As dawn came a change was perceptible, and the surgeon indicated that death was not far off. The slow and irregular respiration broke into a throaty rattle, then this and the automatic moaning ceased, the worn features, scarcely more haggard than those of the watchers, relaxed into lines of ineffable peace. At twenty minutes after seven on the morn- ing of April 15th, 1865, the great heart that bore "malice toward none, charity for all" stopped beating. Those about the bedside stirred from the stupor that had bound them, and then, strangely enough, it was Secretary Stanton, once Lincoln's bitterest enemy, now his staunch friend, who broke the silence. He gently closed the eyes of Abraham Lincoln, drew the sheet up over the dead face and said in low broken tones, "Now he belongs to the ages." CHAPTER XXXVII THE CAPTURE OF BOOTH Now to follow the progress of the assassin. Escaping by the stage door, Booth snatched his horse's bridle from his aide, David C. Herrold, and the murderous pair bent over their horses' necks in fleet escape toward Maryland, southeast over the Navy Yard Bridge. Booth's leg, fractured in his fall, was so painful in riding that prolonged flight was plainly impossible un- less some remedy was secured. The pair therefore rode on to the home of an acquaintance, Dr. Samuel Mudd, whom they routed from bed, for it was then well after midnight. The doctor rose, set the bone, and gave the travelers a room for the night. By this act the surgeon became an "accessory after the fact," for which he suffered. The two lingered in this room until it was dark enough the following evening to venture forth, when they sought succor from a friend, Samuel Cox, near Port Tobacco. He put them under the protection of Thomas Jones, a Maryland contraband trader, ex- tremist and anarchist, who gave them food and shelter and agreed to get them into Virginia undiscovered. By this time the War Department's Proclamation and offer of reward was widespread in wayside posters and every newspaper in these terms : 401 402 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN "War Dept, April 20th, 1865. "The murderer of our late beloved President, Abra- ham Lincoln, is still at large. $50,000 reward will be paid by this Department for his apprehension in addi- tion to any reward offered by municipal authorities, or State Executives. "$25,000 reward will be paid for the apprehension of G. W. Atzerodt, sometimes called Tort Tobacco/ one of Booth's accomplices. "$25,000 reward will be paid for the apprehension of David C. Herrold, another of Booties accomplices. "All persons harboring or secreting said persons or either of them, or aiding or assisting their conceal- ment or escape will be treated as accomplices in the murder of the President and the attempted assassina- tion of the Secretary of State and shall be subject to trial before a Military Commissioner and the punish- ment of death. "Let the stain of innocent blood be removed from the land by the arrest and punishment of the mur- derers. "All good citizens are exhorted to aid public justice on this occasion. Every man should consider his own conscience charged with this solemn duty and rest neither night nor day until it be accomplished. "Edwin M. Stanton, "Secretary of War." In spite of the high price placed on Booth's head, Jones, at the risk of his own life, kept the two fugi- tives hidden in the woods near his shack under the very noses of the Government detectives who were beating THE CAPTURE OF BOOTH 403 the bushes diligently all along the Potomac. Jon~s successfully hid and fed the runaways undetected for a week, keeping on the alert all the while for an op- portunity to smuggle them across the river. Booth's leg continued to be so painful a handicap that he was unable to help himself much in journeying on. At last, after several attempts, Jones ferried the crippled man and his companion across the Potomac by night, in spite of the vigilance with which its banks were patrolled. Landed at last on Virginia soil, Booth expected to be hailed as a hero, his safety assured, his vanity in- flated and his morbid greed for notoriety sated. The very dregs of bitterness were his when the Southern newspapers met his eye with their condemnation of his act. Repudiated by the Southerners, Booth found him- self not lauded, not canonized, but forced to live half- fed, half-sick, in hiding like a wounded and hunted animal. In wretched outlawry and pain he poured his chagrin into his diary from which these excerpts reveal his warped egotism : "After being hunted like a dog through swamps, etc., I am here in despair, and why? For doing what Brutus was honored for, — what made Tell a hero." "I am abandoned with the curse of Cain upon me, when, if the world knew my heart, that one blow would have made me great." With his leg in splints, Booth could travel very slowly and on the night of April 25th had only got so far as the Garret farm near Port Royal in Caroline County, Va., on the Rappahannock. Here he was 404 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN hiding in a barn on the road to Bowling Green when a squad of cavalrymen came clattering up, surrounded the barn, dismounted and called out to him to sur- render. The craven Herrold, disguised in a Confed- erate uniform, at once crawled out and was soundly cursed by the wounded Booth who was made of sterner stuff. Booth proudly refused to surrender and de- clared he would never be taken alive. There was little left him but suicide. At his refusal to come out the soldiers threatened to set fire to the barn. Even then he stood his ground. The men rushed forward and fired the wooden barn in an attempt to smoke him out for they were under these orders: "Don't shoot Booth. Take him alive!" In the first flare of the lighted fire, Booth's figure could be plainly seen inside through cracks in the barn leaning on a crutch and holding a rifle in his hands. As the fire crackled louder he crawled on hands and knees to a crack to shoot, but the mounting blaze blinded his aim. The light of the burning barn now revealed him, unkempt, uniformed like Herrold, with his hair cropped close and his mustache shaved off re- vealing a haggard face, thin and fever worn. Caught like a rat he hobbled to the barn door and in spite of a shout of "Don't kill him!" an excited and over-zealous sergeant, Boston Corbett, let fire and shot him in the neck in almost the identical spot where Booth's own bullet had struck Lincoln. Like Lincoln he fell silently forward. The cavalrymen dragged him out and laid him in the grass, where, after four hours of agony he died at seven in the morning, at almost the same time of day that marked his victim's passing. His last THE CAPTURE OF BOOTH 405 words, whispered to Lieutenant Baker were, "Tell mother I died for my country. I thought I did for the best." The body was disposed of after it had been taken to Washington and given a military post-mortem on board the Monitor Montauk. Then, at night on April 27th, it was turned over to two men who took it in a rowboat and put it away secretly. Nobody knows what they did with it except themselves and they have never told. So perished a man who craved fame insanely and whose only claim to it lay in one evil deed which wrought untold harm. In the light of the present day judicial practice of analyzing motives for crime, perhaps a brief glance at Wilkes Booth's background will prove interesting. He was the son of Junius Brutus Booth, a well- known English actor of more than ordinary ability, and more than ordinary eccentricities. Junius Brutus Booth was the son of Richard Booth, an erratic man who early in life made himself highly unpopular for his extreme Republican sympathies. At the impulsive age of twenty, Richard Booth ran away from home with a cousin to join American troops to fight against his own land in the Revolution. He was made a pris- oner and returned to England before he crossed the sea on this impetuous mission. It remained one of his eccentricities to demand extreme reverence from all visitors to the portrait of Washington which he kept as a sort of icon in his home. His mental irregulari- ties were quite marked from the time he was young. His special mania continued to be extreme admiration 406 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN for Republicanism, especially as he saw it personified in the United States. He refused to let one of his sons, a sailor in the British Navy, serve against Amer- ica in the War of 1812. His son, Junius, like himself, showed lack of mental balance from the time he was a boy and these disturbances were intensified as he grew older by intemperance. Junius married in England but came to America to live, settling in Maryland, and continuing a successful dramatic career. In acting, especially in stage duels, he was often so carried away by the part that he lost his own identity in the char- acter he portrayed to such an extent that other actors in the caste had to beware of the earnestness of his stage sword play. His father, an extreme sympa- thizer with the colonies, joined him in Maryland and the two were marked by unbalanced and exaggerated patriotism. Thus insanity characterized both the grandfather and father of John Wilkes Booth, the assassin. This partial insanity, long evident in Junius, devel- oped into ever-increasing violence and frequent periods of aberration in which he often sought to kill him- self. He died of pneumonia, his heart weakened by drink, before his suicidal attempts were effective. So much for the father of John Wilkes Booth. John Wilkes himself was also an actor, but of very mediocre talent. He was brother to Edwin Booth of dramatic fame and honor who was, however, not wholly devoid of eccentricities either. John Wilkes Booth was a failure in the profession in which his father and brother both shone. He seemed ever depressed by a morbid sense of inferiority THE CAPTURE OF BOOTH 407 which goaded him on to seek glory through question- able means. His attitude is well expressed in his own utterance, "The fame of the youth who fired the Ephesian dome will outlive that of the pious fools who reared it." He was a destroyer by very nature and he had early shown tendencies like his father's unfortu- nate intemperances and mental disturbances. These were in no way curbed in youth and intensified as he grew up. What his mother was like or how she in- fluenced him we do not know. Booth was only twenty-seven years old when he shot Lincoln. He was a strikingly handsome, cultured young man, of almost romantic appearance, dark, graceful, charming. He made himself the center of a group of weak-minded admirers over whom he de- lighted to exert his power of dominating. His was the moving spirit of the conspiracy, they his pawns. He assigned the parts each was to play, reserving for himself the star role of assassinating the President, for which act he supposed he would bask in everlasting fame. Booth was only an individual fanatic, not an emis- sary of the Confederacy as was sometimes mistakenly supposed. In Booth inherited tendencies toward un- balanced and exaggerated patriotic excitement carried him to extremes; the father's lifelong aberrations marked the son's mental uncertainties, constant use of liquor inflamed him to the danger point. Concerning John Wilkes Booth the kindest judg- ment that can be passed lies in the words Lincoln him- self used of John Brown, "An enthusiast broods over the oppression of a people till he fancies himself com- 408 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN missioned by Heaven to liberate them. He ventures the attempt which ends in little else than his own execution." This young man's attempt ended in something more than his own death, — incalculable loss not only to the Union but to the disrupted South. CHAPTER XXXVIII EXTENT OF THE PLOT The assassination of the President was not merely the single act of one fanatic. It was but part of a well-organized plot to wipe out the whole executive body of the Government. It will be remembered that General Grant and his wife were to have attended the theater with the Presi- dent's party on the fatal night. Evidently it had been planned that Grant, too, should die then, and only the merest turn of chance saved him. At the last minute Mrs. Grant decided for some trivial reason that she wanted to leave Washington on the very evening of the theater party, to go north to meet her daughter in Burlington. The General therefore made excuses to the President and that evening, at the very hour when he would otherwise have been sitting in the President's box, he was leaving the city unexpectedly. As the General and Mrs. Grant were driving along Pennsyl- vania Avenue to the station, a man on horseback went galloping suddenly past them. He whirled his horse around abruptly and trotted back deliberately peering into the General's carriage as if to make sure who was seated in it. Mrs. Grant was much upset and said in a worried tone to her husband, "Why, that is the very man who sat near us at lunch to-day with some others, and tried to overhear our conversation! He was so 409 410 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN rude you remember as to cause us to leave the dining room and here he is again riding after us !" Grant reassured her calmly by saying it was prob- ably only another curiosity seeker, but Mrs. Grant was not altogether quieted. The curious horseman was later recognized as John Wilkes Booth himself. He had planned to include Grant with Lincoln in his plot, overheard the Grants' change of plans at luncheon and galloped furiously after the carriage to make sure that his quarry was escaping. Grant had received an anonymous letter a few days before this saying that the writer had been appointed to kill him and had one day followed him for this pur- pose, boarded the train with him and followed as far as Havre de Grace but had failed in his mission be- cause he could not get into the General's car which was locked. He now warned Grant and thanked God he had not succeeded in killing him. Grant recalled the conductor's locking his car, but had thought little of the letter at the time, crediting it to some of the un- balanced cranks who write anonymously to public per- sons. In the light of what happened afterwards, how- ever, it seemed significant. The news of Lincoln's assassination was brought Grant just as he reached Philadelphia. On hearing the fearful news he cried out : "This is the darkest day of my life ! I do not know what it means! Here was the Rebellion put down in the field and it is reasserting itself in the gutter. We fought it as a war, we have now to fight it as murder." He immediately got off the northbound train and returned straightway to Washington on a special. EXTENT OF THE PLOT 411 Nor was Grant's the only other life threatened. Secretary Seward fared worse than he. A feeble- minded Florida boy, calling himself Lewis Payne, afterwards identified by his real name as Lewis Thorn- ton Powell, was delegated to slay Seward. This strong and brutal youth boarded two weeks at the Herndon House on the corner of Ninth and F Streets, and left there on April 14th at about 4 o'clock, when he paid his bill and asked for his dinner ahead of time. Just what he did with himself between then and 10 p.m! is not known, but at this late hour he rang the front door bell of the Seward Mansion near Lafayette Square, where he had learned that Mr. Seward was sick in bed. No doubt he hoped that attendants and family would be retiring and out of his way. More- over, this was the hour at which Booth slew Lincoln and some pact to assassinate at the same time may have bound him. For whatever reason, at ten o'clock at night he made his attempt. The door was answered by a colored butler and Payne quickly pushed himself inside, showing a little package which he said the doctor had told him to hand to Secretary Seward him- self and explain directions for taking it. The colored man said he could not see Mr. Seward who was ill in bed and asleep. Payne insisted disagreeably, and the doorman replied that he had orders not to let any one into the sick room. Payne, however, was so domi- neering that the butler began to feel he might after all be mistaken in refusing the physician's supposed mes- senger, but before he could call a member of the fam- ily to interview the persistent stranger, Payne had hastened boldly up the front stairway. At the head 412 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN of the stairs he encountered Frederick Seward the Secretary's son who had formerly been sent to Harris- burg to warn Lincoln of an assassination plot as far back as the President's initial trip to Washington for his first inauguration. Roused by the loud talking at the door and in the hall, Frederick Seward came to see what it was all about and met the visitor face to face. Hearing the explanation of the stranger's undesired presence, young Seward said, "You cannot see my father, he is sound asleep now. Leave the medicine with me, and I will see that he gets it." "I have orders to see him myself and give the doctor's instructions regarding it to him in person." Payne persisted so unpleasantly that young Seward's temper was roused and he retorted, "I am proprietor here and Mr. Seward's son. If you can't leave it with me, you can't leave it at all." At this Payne, pretend- ing to turn and go downstairs, suddenly whirled about and with a vicious and treacherous blow that caught Frederick Seward unawares, knocked him down and sprang to the sick room door. Frederick was found unconscious and remained in a coma for several weeks, so that he was perhaps the very last man in the country to learn the outcome of that fearful night. This com- motion disturbed a Sergeant who was on duty as bed- side attendant. He opened the door just as Payne reached it. In a flash Payne had slashed his face with a knife and thrust past him to the bed where he stabbed the Secretary three times violently. Seward's daugh- ter, also in attendance on her father, shrieked and her screams brought her other brother, Augustus, running EXTENT OF THE PLOT 413 down the hall. He flung himself upon Payne, and the two grappled and fell. The bleeding Sergeant rushed to the rescue and they succeeded in throwing Payne out of the bedroom door. With deft and savage blows of his knife the assassin severely injured his opponents, broke loose from both men, dashed downstairs and fled headlong into the street. The butler was outside calling "Police !" and at sight of the fleeing assassin, he promptly gave chase. Payne leaped to a waiting saddle horse and galloped madly away pursued by the breathless colored man who lost sight of the rider on quiet I Street. Payne had lost his hat in the struggle, however, and this later led to his identifica- tion and capture. Fearing that he would attract at- tention bareheaded, Payne hid in the woods east of Washington for two days until hunger drove him out. He sneaked to the small boarding house kept by a widow, Mrs. Mary Surratt, which the conspirators had used as a rendezvous and where they had hatched their plot. It happened that Payne walked straight into the house at the very moment when it had been raided and all the inmates taken prisoners. He therefore stepped directly into the trap and was quickly caught. The youth was not bright, and a few stupid but truthful words, surprised from him, betrayed his own and Mrs. Surratt's guilt at once. There was some wonder that Payne had not shot the Secretary and his attendants, but the loaded re- volver which he carried was afterward discovered to have had its hammer so jammed in the scuffle with Frederick that it refused to fire. Trusting, therefore, to the violence of his knife thrusts, the assassin had 414 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN fled, believing he had killed the Secretary of State. But, like Grant, how small an episode had saved his life! Seward had gone riding the day before and suffered a severe fall that broke his jawbone. The surgeon who set it chanced to use a steel frame to protect the broken bones and this was adjusted over face and neck. This frame saved Seward's life. The blows of the knife cut his cheek and neck to be sure, but they glanced from the steel frame before striking a vital spot. Thus Grant and Seward, by the merest chance, escaped. Chance allowed a wider margin to other executives and cabinet members who, it is supposed, had also been doomed to die but never faced assassin or bullet. The Vice-president, Andrew Johnson, had been as- signed for murder to a coachmaker who had turned spy and blockade runner. This accomplice whose full name, queerly enough, was George Washington Atzerodt, was a crony of Samuel Cox and Thomas Jones at Port Tobacco. He balked at his commission and refused to commit murder, so the Vice-president was spared. The whole plot included about twenty-five con- spirators, one of them a woman. This was Mrs. Sur- ratt, of Maryland, who had formerly possessed a good deal of property, and although then reduced to running a cheap boarding-house in Washington she still owned a tavern kept by a man named Lloyd at Surratsville in Maryland. The plot had originally been, crazily enough, to kidnap the executives and take them captive EXTENT OF THE PLOT 415 to Richmond during the war and for this purpose the tavern had been used to store supplies and firearms. Maddened by the surrender, Booth had changed his plan from abduction to immediate assassination. On April nth Mrs. Surratt had gone to Lloyd and instructed him to have guns ready for use on the 14th. It was only at noon on the 14th that Booth had over- heard the theater party plans at the Grants' restaurant table, and had impulsively chosen the theater for the murder. Booth escaped from the theater and fled directly to Lloyd's tavern on the Maryland border which he and Herrold reached by midnight. They stopped there before going on to Dr. Mudd's to have Booth's leg set. The tavern also housed two Maryland malcontents, Samuel Arnold and Michael O'Laughlin, who held themselves ready to aid in abductions. Of all the conspirators who were finally captured and brought to trial, these were convicted of murder: David C. Herrold, who was caught in the burning barn with Booth; Lewis Payne, who stabbed Seward; G. W. Atzerodt, the spy and smuggler who had taken oath to slay the Vice-president, and Mrs. Surratt herself. These four were hanged. Edward Spangler, the theater scene shifter who aided Booth, was sent to jail for six years. The thugs, Arnold and O'Laughlin, and Dr. Samuel Mudd, who set Booth's leg, were all sent on life sentence to the Dry Tortugas of dreadful name. Curiously enough, during their term yellow fever broke out there and Dr. Mudd so distinguished himself by heroic service throughout the devastating epidemic that he was par- 416 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN doned and eventually returned to his Maryland home. Another conspirator, John Surratt, son of the woman who died on the gallows, managed to escape by way of Canada to England, to Egypt and finally to Italy where, unknown, he actually achieved appointment to the Papal Guards in the sheltered Vatican. Surely he might there deem himself well lost to the world! But Archbishop Hughes chanced to identify him and made known his perfidy. Although no extradition laws technically covered his case, the Italian Govern- ment nevertheless promptly turned Surratt over to the United States authorities and he was brought to trial. Years had elapsed by that time since his mother had been condemned to execution, and he finally escaped conviction on the grounds of the statute of limitation. So ended the shameful fellowship that wrought a national tragedy at the very time when there was most need of Lincoln leadership and spirit in work greater than the war itself — the Reconstruction. CHAPTER XXXIX BACK TO SPRINGFIELD The wild rejoicing that greeted the war's end was suddenly hushed by the shock of the assassination. In the dreadful mourning that ensued, all exultation and demonstrations of triumph in the victory over the South were forgotten. The Nation's attention turned from peace celebrations to the blackest grief and horror in which any gloating over the Confederacy's down- fall was lost sight of. The city of Washington was draped in black an hour after the President's body was borne from the little house on Tenth Street to the White House. Busi- ness was suspended, Government departments closed. Every shop window exhibited a Lincoln portrait draped in the flag and crepe and streamers of crepe shrouded every building. Every residence showed a black draped flag; the colors drooped at half mast in each park. Even in the poorer sections of the city work- men's houses and negro shanties showed pitiful at- tempts at mourning with strips of black calico, im- provised colors pinned to newspaper pictures of Lin- coln that were cut out and pasted to window panes adorned with mourning borders. An unnatural hush pervaded the city. Traffic was slow and quiet. People passed one another with drawn faces and reddened eye- lids. They stood without talking on doorsteps and curbs not knowing what to do with themselves, unable 417 418 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN to settle down, uneasily wondering what would happen next. Meanwhile, released from strife and anxiety, the Great Executive lay motionless in the high catafalque in the White House East Room, with guard on duty there. Nowhere has that scene been better pictured than in Lincoln's own fateful dream. The funeral was arranged for Wednesday, April 19th, and all the churches in all the country were to unite in service at the same hour. The East Room ceremonies were simple enough — the Episcopal burial service followed by a brief address and concluding prayer. Then followed the memorable funeral pro- cession, slow and magnificent, from White House to Capitol, where the body was to lie in state under the Rotunda. An Army and Navy cortege escorted the body; Cabinet members and dignitaries followed in carriages; school children lined the way. All Wash- ington turned out upon Pennsylvania Avenue and thronged the curbs to gaze upon the long and silent procession. An uncanny stillness hung over the silent mob of people standing shoulder to shoulder several deep all along the way. No sound rose from them as the shuffle of many feet tramped by upon that avenue along which Lincoln had twice traveled to inaugura- tion. This utter silence of the multitude added a deeper sadness and strangeness to the scene. The still- ness was only broken by the melancholy booming of minute guns and the sinister tolling of all the church bells near and far, loud and faint, high and deep, in Washington and Georgetown and in Alexandria. The human silence, the metallic boom and ringing gave un- BACK TO SPRINGFIELD 419 realness to the unforgettable day. Countless people stood hours in line at the Capitol to pass the coffin and gaze for a last time upon the face of Abraham Lincoln. This was the first and most awful of the Presi- dential funerals in which the murdered bodies of Gar- field and McKinley were likewise destined to be borne along the Avenue to lie in state before the multitudes thronging the Capitol. Harrison, Taylor and Harding have died in office. Lincoln was first of the three assassinated. It was announced that Lincoln's burial was to be made in Springfield, Illinois. At once every town along the line from Washington to Springfield tele- graphed the Government petitioning that the funeral train might halt there for the citizens to do reverence. The little coffin of Willie Lincoln was prepared for the trip back to Springfield with his father, a double grief for Mrs. Lincoln. Arrangement was made for the sad journey back to Springfield to cover the circuitous route taken by Lin- coln four years before when he came on to Washing- ton for inauguration. The funeral train draped in somber black and ac- companied by a guard of honor started on its way on April 21. In every city to which it came there were fitting ceremonies, and even in villages where the train could not stop, crowds stood for hours mournfully at the stations waiting to pay their last tribute of respect to the great President. In Baltimore the casket was carried to the Exchange where it was on public view for some hours, banked with evergreens and lilies. In New York the body lay in state in the City Hall 420 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN while half a million people passed silently by it. Dirges and hymns were sung through the countryside as the train passed slowly along. All along the westward route citizens had ex- pressed a Nation's grief. Here once more back in Springfield the neighbors were mourning not the Presi- dent so much as "Abe/' who had come home at last. Here, at his own request there still swung on its rusty hinges the old signboard, "Lincoln and Herndon, At- torneys," of which the senior partner had said, "Let it hang there undisturbed. If I live, I'm coming back and we'll go on practicing law as if nothing had ever happened/' Here Mrs. Lincoln and her boys, exhausted from the slow interrupted and terrible trip were too heart- broken to return to "the little house on Eighth Street." Without the husband she was so proud of, the desolate "little woman" now gave way to such wild grief at thought of that house which, as a bride, she had seen with one humble story only, that her sister, Mrs. Ninian Edwards, had to close up the Lincoln home and take them to live with her. There was the sharpness of personal mourning in the Springfield reception which the guard of honor had not seen in other towns. Old friends of Lincoln's, people who had known him in his gawky boyhood, flocked from all over the countryside for one last look at "honest Abe." Dennis Hanks was there, with his treasured watch, the Dennis who had played with him when he was a baby "as solemn as a papoose," the Dennis who had shared the family sorrow of the "milk BACK TO SPRINGFIELD 421 sickness" days, the Dennis who had made the author of the Emancipation Proclamation his first pen of a turkey buzzard feather. Perhaps old Sally Bush Lin- coln was there herself with shiftless son John. John Hanks of rail fame must surely have been present. The Rutledges were on the funeral committee of ar- rangements. The Todd relatives, who had been op- posed to ''Mary's marrying beneath her," were now active in arranging a memorial. Old time Gentryville friends made the pilgrimage to Springfield. Country lawyers, former partners, circuit judges made especial effort to come to the funeral from whatever part of the state they were in. Perhaps Hannah Armstrong and her son, Duff, were among the throng in town, that day. The butcher from whom Lincoln used to buy "ten-cent beefsteaks and carry them home him- self" shut up shop, cast off his apron for somber black Sunday suit. Boys Lincoln had amused at marbles, the telegraph operator who received first news of the nomination, survivors of the old "Long Nine," Joshua Speed, Billy Green and sturdy Sangamon farmers, these were some of the mourners Lincoln would have cared most about. Lincoln was buried among his own people in a wooded spot in beautiful Oakland Ceme- tery. The memorial in Springfield stands there to- day, while another in Washington rises near the Potomac, that borderline between the North and South he strove to keep united. The Lincoln memorial on the Potomac, plain, white and beautiful, stands im- pressively in sight of Robert E. Lee's Arlington Man- sion. Its heroic statue of Lincoln so humanly natural 422 THE DRAMATIC LIFE OF LINCOLN with rumpled hair and loose baggy clothes gazes pen- sively out upon the Washington Monument and Capitol dome. These formal monuments mark the passing of a great soul, but it is perhaps the memory of his bare- foot log cabin days kept ever fresh in the minds of little school children which will always prove his most living and potent influence in the citizenry of to-day. So ended the career of Abraham Lincoln, "the gentlest and most Christlike mortal that ever wielded power in all the tide of time." O, slow to smite, and swift to spare, Gentle and merciful and just! Who in the fear of God did bear The Sword of power, a Nation's trust In sorrow by thy bier we stand, Amid the awe that husheth all, And speak the language of a land That shook with horror at thy fall. Thy task is done ; the bonds are free, We bear thee to an honored grave, Whose proudest monument shall be The broken fetters of the slave. Pure was thy life ; its bloody close Has placed thee with the Sons of Light Among the noble hearts of those Who perished in the cause of Right. — William Cullen Bryant. (Ode written for Lincoln's Funeral Service, held in New York City.) THE END ■— , "The Books You Like to Read at the Price You Like to Pay" There Are Two Sides to Everything — — including the wrapper which covers every Grosset & Dunlap book. When you feel in the mood for a good ro- mance, refer to the carefully selected list of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by prominent writers of the day which is printed on the back of every Grosset & Dunlap book wrapper. You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from — books for every mood and every taste and every pocket- book. Dorit forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write to the publishers for a complete catalog. There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book for every mood and for every taste EMERSON HOUGH'S NOVELS May bo had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list THE COVERED WAGON An epic story of the Great West from which the fam - ous picture was made. THE WAY OF A MAN A colorful romance of the pioneer West before the Civil War. THE SAGEBRUSHER An Eastern girl answers a matrimonial ad. and goes out West in the hills of Montana to find her mate. THE WAY OUT A romance of the feud districtof the Cumberland country. THE BROKEN GATE A story of broken social conventions and of a woman* s determination to put the past behind her. THE WAY TO THE WEST Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett and Kit Carson figure in this story of the opening of the West. HEART'S DESIRE The story of what happens when the railroad came to ft little settlement in the far West THE PURCHASE PRICE A story of Kentucky during the days after the American Revolution. GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK JACKSON GREGORY'S NOVELS May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. THE EVERLASTING WHISPER The story of a strong man's struggle against savage nature and human* sty, and of a beautiful girl's regeneration from a spoiled child of wealth into a courageous strong-willed woman. DESERT VALLEY A college professor sets out with his daughter to find gold. They mee* a rancher who loses his heart, and become involved in a feud. An intensely exciting story. MAN TO MAN Encircled with enemies, distrusted, Steve defends his rights. How he won his game and the girl he loved is the story filled wtth breathles* situations. THE BELLS OF SAN JUAN Dr. Virginia Page is forced to go with the sheriff on a night journey into the strongholds of a lawless band. Thrills and excitement sweep the