A Slave Auction at the Fayette County Courthouse, LcxiiiRlon. K< m* THE BLUEGRASS REGION OF KENTUCKY was the only part of the slaveholding South that Abraham Lincoln knew intimately. Even before the young Illinois lawyer had married a daugh- ter of one of Lexington's leading statesmen, he had taken Robert Todd's close friend, Henry Clay, as his political idol. Mary Todd, who had grown to young womanhood in Lexington, wid- ened Lincoln's circle of acquaintances in the Bluegrass to include such diverse personalities as fudge George Robertson, Lincoln's counsel, who supported emancipation in the abstract but indignantly demanded that the President pro- tect his slave property; the fiery Cassius M. Clay, who urged Lincoln to proclaim immediate emancipation and who raised a motley battalion in Washington, D. C, to defend the Capital; Dr. Robert J. Breckinridge, the doughty Presbyter- ian minister who refused to ask special treatment for the members of his family in the Confeder- acy; and the Doctor's nephew, Vice-President John C. Breckinridge, who rejected a demand that he use his position to thwart Lincoln's elec- tion but immediately took up arms against him. With the gifted pen that has won praise from so many students of Lincoln and the Civil War, William H. Townsend here describes the fabu- lous Bluegrass region which had so large a part in shaping Lincoln's views about emancipation and secession. Lexington, heart of the Bluegrass, had early been called the "Athens of the West," and the grace and culture of its pleasure-loving aristocracy could hardly have failed to impress any thinking man. Here Lincoln saw the genteel side of slavery— the trusted mammies whose word was law, the valets whose talent for mixing mint juleps was famous— but he also saw the public whipping post, slave jails, and slave auctions, and the disregard for the humanity of the Negro. Lincoln and the Bluegrass has grown out of an earlier work by Mr. Townsend, Lincoln and His Wife's Home Town, published twenty-six years ago. The appearance of so much addi- tional Lincoln and Civil War source materials in the past quarter of a century has enabled Mr. Townsend to develop his study of Lincoln's rela- tion to the Bluegrass with greater insight and clarity. The book contains sixty illustrations, main of them previously unpublished photo- graphs from Mr. Townsend's collection. $6.50 ■: mmm* .: ■. "..-■■■; ■ - ,,:■•;:; :.,•■■■_ ,,:,,,,;.: ; .,.,.., :: v/; : , ■ , , ; ?;!!!; mi : ' ■' ■'■■ . . . ' ■■■■ . '..' : K ]lllllily|;;ii:0;£ ; ' .' ;■; .. y ■■:'.' '-- : :. -v , , . ; / :••■■■:.•■.:■:; .■. ■ ;: :;: ■ ■. ' : ■ ■ •■ : ;!!■::■;. ■ '. • ■■ ■ !■■■ ' '•'■ :. ; . ' ■ ''■..■■ 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/lincolnbluegrassOOtown The Cassius Jiarcellus Clay Gdition Autographed by the author for members of the CIVIL WAR BOOK CLUB '-^ Abraham Lincoln Meserve Collection Lincoln and the Bluegrass SLAVERY AND CIVIL WAR IN KENTUCKY By William H. Townsend University of Kentucky Press COPYRIGHT © 1955 BY THE UNIVERSITY OF KENTUCKY PRESS COMPOSED AND PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY OF KENTUCKY LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER: 55-10383 f73.7l.fe3 BTLLJIi KO0AA To my wife Genevieve, our daughter Mary Genevieve, and our young granddaughter Mary Elodie Preface IT HAS been more than twenty-five years since Lincoln and His Wife's Home Town, from which the present work has de- veloped, first came off the press. During this period I have had the benefit of important and relevant sources which were either unknown or unavailable in 1929. The Abraham Lincoln As- sociation of Springfield, Illinois, has assembled The Collected Works into eight large volumes which contain hundreds of Lincoln letters and documents heretofore unpublished. The Herndon-Weik manuscripts and the Robert Todd Lincoln Col- lection are now open for inspection and research in the Library of Congress. The diaries of the Reverend William Moody Pratt, a veritable gold mine of information about Lexington and the Bluegrass from 1833 until long after the Civil War, are in the Library of the University of Kentucky. Diligence and luck have added to my own collection of Lincolniana many items which have proved useful in the present under- taking. As before, whenever possible I have allowed original sources to speak for themselves. It is my opinion that the analysis of this new material af- fords a broader perspective and deeper insight into the affirma- tion made in the preface to the earlier book— that Abraham Lincoln's personal contacts with slavery in the Bluegrass gave him a firsthand knowledge of the "peculiar institution" that he could have acquired in no other way. The impact of these experiences upon Abraham Lincoln and the circumstances sur- vni PREFACE rounding them can hardly be more aptly stated than in the following paragraphs of that preface. "Lexington lay in the heart of the largest slaveholding sec- tion of Kentucky. Here in the far-famed Bluegrass region, with its chivalry and romance, its culture and traditions, the various aspects of African bondage were fairly and accurately presented. Here the future Emancipator saw vexatious prob- lems and the difficulties of their solution from the Southerner's own viewpoint. Here, also, the fires of antislavery agitation burned fitfully but furiously, giving Lincoln, as he said, his 'first real specific alarm about the institution of slavery.' "Lincoln's well-known conservatism on the 'dominant ques- tion' went a long way toward making him the nominee of the Republican party for President in 1860. It brought to him the powerful support of the Border States delegates who believed that he possessed a sympathetic understanding of their prob- lem and could deal with it better than any other candidate before the convention. During the anxious days following his election, as the nation drifted steadily into Civil War, the new President was gravely aware of the importance of Kentucky in the approaching conflict. 'I think to lose Kentucky is nearly the same as to lose the whole game,' he wrote Senator Brown- ing. Lincoln also realized that the first danger of secession in Kentucky centered about the capital city of the Bluegrass, and in the succeeding pages we shall see how desperately the strug- gle was waged in that section and how eventually the state was saved to the Union." Here, near the borderland of freedom, domestic ties were rent asunder, brother against brother, father against son, the whole social structure crumbling in the vast upheaval. Throughout those dark, bitter, tragic days, Lincoln never lost contact with Kentucky. Always she and her citizens, even those arrayed in arms against the government, were the objects of his patient solicitude. In the laborious task of locating and assembling material, it has been my good fortune to have the constant and capable PREFA CE ix co-operation of various public institutions, as well as the ac- tive assistance and kindly interest of many individual friends. Among the former, I must thank the Lexington Public Library, Transylvania College Library, University of Kentucky Library, the Filson Club, Louisville Free Public Library, Kentucky State Historical Society, Library of Congress, Wisconsin His- torical Society, Abraham Lincoln Foundation, State University of Iowa Library, Illinois State Historical Library, and the De- partment of Lincolniana of Lincoln Memorial University. Among the latter, my warmest thanks and appreciation are due to Clyde Walton, Iowa City, Iowa; Irving Stone, Beverly Hills, California; Ralph Newman and Mrs. Foreman M. Le- bold, Chicago, Illinois; Mrs. Philip B. Kunhardt, Morristown, New Jersey; Bruce Catton, New York City; Donald M. Hobart, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Percy C. Powell and David C. Mearns, Washington, D. C; R. Gerald McMurtry, Harrogate, Tennessee; Louis Warren, Fort Wayne, Indiana; Mrs. Lewis C. Williams, Evanston, Illinois; Holman Hamilton, Hambleton Tapp, Miss Jacqueline Bull, Miss Roemel Henry, Miss Virginia Hayes, Joe Jordan, Mrs. Louis Lee Haggin, Louis Lee Haggin, II, and Dr. Josephine Hunt, Lexington, Kentucky. Mrs. Martha B. Cheek, wife of Professor Frank J. Cheek, Jr., of the University of Kentucky, a great-great-niece of Denton Offutt, has generously made available to me the voluminous records accumulated by her through long years of research concerning the Offutt family. I must express particularly my abiding gratitude to my dear friends J. Winston Coleman and Thomas D. Clark of Lexing- ton, Kentucky, and Harry E. Pratt and his wife Marion of Springfield, Illinois. It is hardly too much to say that without their invaluable aid in research suggestions, verifying sources, supplying pictures, reading the manuscript, and, above all, their constant encouragement, the writing of this book in such "off hours" as an active law practice affords could not have been accomplished. Mrs. Mary Ada Sullivan has checked cita- tions, arranged footnotes, and prepared the manuscript for the x PREFACE publisher with an unflagging interest and efficiency much be- yond the call of duty. This new work has been written almost upon the very site of Mme. Mentelle's famous boarding school that nurtured Mary Todd. I express the hope that the reader may find in these pages interesting and significant glimpses of her early years and of the friends and background of her girlhood, as well as a clearer view of some of the forces and events that made Abra- ham Lincoln the greatest exponent of human freedom, and that certain individuals, hitherto but little known to history, may receive just and adequate recognition for the deed that made them vivid, outstanding figures in their own day and generation. William H. Townsend February 12, 1955 28 Mentelle Park Lexington, Kentucky Contents PREFACE PAGE Vll 1. Athens of the West 1 2. The Lincolns of Fayette 16 3. The Early Todds 25 4. The Little Trader from Hickman Creek 30 5. Mary Ann Todd 46 6. Slavery in the Bluegrass 70 7. Grist to the Mill 81 8. The True American 99 9. The Lincolns Visit Lexington 120 10. Widow Sprigg and Buena Vista 141 11. A House Divided 157 12. Milly and Alfred 176 13. The Buried Years 192 14. Storm Clouds 209 15. Rebellion 239 16. Stirring Days in Kentucky 269 17. Problems of State and In-Law Trouble 299 18. With Malice toward None 320 19. Lilac Time 352 BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 359 INDEX 387 Illustrations Abraham Lincoln frontispiece Transylvania University in the 1820's; Title page of The Ken- tucky Preceptor that Lincoln studied; Thomas Lincoln testifies how his brother spelled his name between pages 10 and 1 1 Thomas Lincoln's stillhouse near Lexington; "Ellerslie," home of Levi Todd, as it looked just before it was razed; Robert S. Todd between pages 26 and 27 Receipts signed by Lincoln for Denton Offutt; The Rutledge mill and Denton Offutt's store at New Salem, rebuilt on the original sites between pages 42 and 43 Mary Ann Todd; Home of "Widow" Parker, Mary Todd's grandmother, as it looks today; The confectionery of Monsieur Giron; Dr. Ward's Academy between pages 58 and 59 Sale of "bucks" and "wenches" on Cheapside; Slave cabins in the Bluegrass between pages 74 and 75 Reward for runaway slave; Slave auction on Cheapside BETWEEN PAGES 90 AND 91 One of the brass cannon used in the defense of The True Amer- ican office; Cassius M. Clay between pages 106 and 107 Main Street in Lexington as Lincoln saw it; Slave auction in the courthouse yard; The home of Robert S. Todd, as it looks today between pages 122 and 123 "Nigger Trader" advertisements; Slave shackles BETWEEN PAGES 138 AND 139 xiv ILLUSTRATIONS Title page of Denton Offutt's book; Joe Offutt, pupil and "spit 'n' image" of his uncle Denton; "Mr. Bell's splendid place" in Lexington, where friends of the Lincolns lived; "Buena Vista," summer home of Robert S. Todd, with slave cabins, as it looked before it was razed between pages 154 and 155 Dr. Breckinridge's knife, designed by Clay; Cassius Clay's "dress- up" bowie knife and dirk between pages 170 and 171 Megowan's slave jail; Where Robards kept his "choice stock," as it looked before it was razed between pages 186 and 187 Lincoln's "indignation" letter to George B. Kinkead; Lexington in 1850; The old Lexington courthouse, where Lincoln was sued; Henry Clay between pages 202 and 203 Emilie Todd, as she looked when she visited the Lincolns; Stephen A. Douglas, debater; Abraham Lincoln, on the hus- tings; Mrs. Lincoln's letter to Emilie about her husband's politics BETWEEN PAGES 218 AND 219 John C. Breckinridge; Abraham Lincoln to Cassius M. Clay BETWEEN PAGES 266 AND 267 Handbill ordering acceptance of Confederate money in Lexing- ton; Yankees in the courthouse yard; Portrait of Judge George Robertson; General John Hunt Morgan BETWEEN PAGES 282 AND 283 Martha Todd White, Mrs. Lincoln's half sister; Mary Todd Lincoln, in the autumn of 1863; Emilie Todd Helm, as she looked at the White House; Captain David Todd, Mrs. Lin- coln's half brother between pages 314 and 315 Major General Cassius M. Clay; Abraham Lincoln in 1864; "Lieutenant" Tad Lincoln; Martha M. Jones and Nellie; Lieu- tenant Waller R. Bullock; The Reverend Robert J. Breckin- ridge BETWEEN PAGES 330 AND 331 The tomb of Henry Clay; The Kentucky delegation to Abra- ham Lincoln's funeral between pages 346 and 347 ONE Athens of the West LATE afternoon on an early June day, 1775, in that new, enchanted region called "Kaintuckee" 1 : A small party of hunt- ers—lean, bronzed, muscular, with rifles in hand and scalping knives dangling from the girdles of their buckskin shirts- emerged from a dense canebrake that skirted the waters of Elkhorn Creek. Hungry and tired, after a leisurely reconnoiter they pitched camp for the night beside a clear bubbling spring that gushed from a crevice in a huge slab of moss-covered lime- stone. 2 The frugal supper of parched corn and jerked venison over, the woodsmen sat around the blazing logs puffing their battered, old pipes in drowsy conversation. The day's journey had led them through the most picturesque and fertile country in all the western wilderness: 3 luxuriant vegetation rooted in a loose, deep, black mold; giant trees of red and bur oak, yellow poplar, sugar maple, walnut, blue ash, beech, and wild cherry; violets, honeysuckle, and wild roses that perfumed the dim, shaded ravines; columbine, sweet William, and forget-me-nots basking in the placid sunshine; songbirds— the cardinal, bluebird, the 2 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS brown thrush, and the mockingbird; pheasants, partridges, wild turkey and the ivory-billed woodcock; and long vistas of gently undulating meadowland covered with bluegrass, dotted with browsing herds of elk, buffalo, and deer. Under the spell of this veritable paradise someone about the fire suggested that a station be established on the site of the camp, and various names were proposed for it. "York" and "Lancaster" were briefly considered, but both were dropped with a shout for "Lexington." On the previous April 19 the first patriot blood of the Revolution had been shed on the village commons at Lexing- ton in distant New England, and avenging minutemen had crimsoned the green hedges along the road from Concord to Boston with King George's fallen redcoats. The news of this stirring event was just now slowly trickling through the wilder- ness, and every pioneer heart glowed with patriotism. Lexing- ton should indeed be the name of the new settlement, and by the fireside that night in June, 1775, the outpost on the banks of the Elkhorn was dedicated to the cause of American liberty. 4 The rude blockhouse erected on the site soon gave way to a regular stockade of more than a dozen cabins built in the form of a parallelogram with palisades and heavy gates of point- ed logs. With the close of the Revolution the settlement began a steady growth. Streets were laid off, churches established, and the first schoolhouse in Kentucky was erected on the public square called "Cheapside" after the historic old marketplace in London. 5 Transylvania Seminary, the first institution of higher learning in the West, was founded within the next few years. On August 11, 1787, John Bradford published the first newspaper west of the Alleghenies. The early issues of the Kentucke Gazette consisted of four pages scarcely larger than a folio letterhead, embellished with crude woodcuts which the editor whittled into shape with his pocketknife. 6 They were printed on an old, dilapidated hand press from type floated down the Ohio on a flatboat to the village of Limestone (now ATHENS OF THE WEST 3 Maysville) and carried to Lexington by pack horses across swollen streams through the dense forest infested by skulking Indians. The Gazette was a boon to the isolated pioneers who were starved for news, and every copy was eagerly devoured item by item. There was a page which contained "Foreign Intelli- gence" from London, Paris, Vienna, and Constantinople, four months old, and another devoted to "American Occurrences" from New York and Philadelphia, which had happened eight weeks before. "Locals," though scarce, were not wholly lacking. The editor condemned the practice of "taming bears," of "light- ing fires with rifles"; he noted that "persons who subscribe to the frame meeting house can pay in cattle or whiskey." Charles Bland advertised: "I will not pay a note given to William Turner for three second rate cows, till he returns a rifle, blan- ket, and tomahawk I loaned him." The public was warned that certain caches of "wheat, corn, and potatoes are impreg- nated with Arsenic or other Subtil poison" for marauding In- dians "to trap them." The editor promised his readers "to give quick and general information concerning the intentions and behavior of our neighboring enemies, and put us on guard." The town trustees announced that "running or racing" horses on the streets would no longer be allowed. Warned Bradford: "That noted horse thief Mose Murphy is said to have been in this town in the early morning of Thursday last." A few days later the Gazette laconically announced that "on Tuesday last Jesse Suggs was executed in this town for horse stealing, agree- able to sentence of the late court of Oyer and Terminer." Early in June, 1792, the first legislature convened in Lex- ington. Here the government of the new commonwealth was organized, and Governor Isaac Shelby took the oath of office with much pomp and ceremony. With the arrival of statehood Lexington rapidly became not only the foremost town of Ken- tucky, but of the entire Western Country. The haunting dread of Indian attacks gradually faded away. Coonskin caps and buckskin hunting shirts were replaced by fashionable attire of 4 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS the latest eastern styles, as the prosperous inhabitants grew more and more absorbed in the business of the town and the cultivation of the fine arts. Stores bulged with large and varied assortments of mer- chandise—glass, china, hardware, coffee, Madeira and port wines, India nankeen, dimity, calicoes, tamboured and jaconet mus- lins, raw silk hose, imported linens and laces. Show windows which displayed samples of these luxuries also advertised luridly labeled packages of Sovereign Ointment for Itch, Dr. Gann's Anti-Bilious Pills, Damask Lip Salves, and Hamilton's Grand Restorative for Dissipated Pleasures. Posted in public places were attractive prices being paid by New Orleans dealers for Kentucky products delivered there by raft and flatboat. On the middle fork of Elkhorn Creek that meandered through the outskirts of the rapidly growing town Edward West experimented with a "specimen of a boat worked by steam applied to oars," which the Gazette predicted "will be of great benefit in Navigation of the Mississippi and Ohio rivers," adding that "Mr. West intends to apply for a patent for this discovery." Another invention newly arrived also received much public attention. It was the "physiognatrace," by which "perfect like- nesses can be taken in a few seconds." The Reverend Jesse Head, who would someday win himself a place in history as the preacher who married Abraham Lin- coln's parents, and Porter Clay, Henry's brother, were said to be the best cabinetmakers in the new country. The "high finish" which they gave "to native cherry lumber precludes the regret that mahogany is not to be had but at an immense cost." Several religious denominations were now strong enough to erect houses of worship, and the Presbyterians, Episcopalians, and Catholics had church buildings sufficiently attractive to excite the comment of early travelers. At the several bookstores the best and latest offerings by eastern publishers could be had at "Philadelphia retail prices." ATHENS OF THE WEST 5 A Main Street shop sold Clark's Ov id, Cicero's Orations, Scott's Dictionary, Watts' Psalms & Hymns, Davidson's Virgil, Buck- anan's Domestic Medicines. Mr. Mullanphy on Cross Street (later Broadway) announced a new stock soon to arrive which would contain many volumes on "law, physics, divinity, his- tory, novels, plays, German and French chapbooks, together with the latest music for flute and violin." The growth of the public library, organized in 1795, now made it necessary to move into more commodious quarters, where it enjoyed the solid support of the town's leading citizens. One of the earliest schools was the Lexington Grammar School, established by Isaac Wilson of "Philadelphia College," who was described by the wife of a prominent citizen as a "poor, simple-looking Simon," but a person with whom she was "thoroughly satisfied" as a teacher for her two young sons. Several girls' schools, including one for "little Misses," who were taught "reading and needle work," were well attended. Waldemare Mentelle, of whom more will appear hereafter, had "lately removed to the town of Lexington, where he pro- poses, with the assistance of his wife, to teach young people French language and dancing." Transylvania Seminary, the struggling little Presbyterian school originally located in the house of its headmaster, now chartered as Transylvania University, had moved to a substan- tial brick building of eight rooms. Dr. Samuel Brown, graduate of Edinburgh, noted physician and teacher of medicine, uncle of the little girl who would one day be Mary Todd Lincoln's stepmother, was organizing the university's medical department. Dr. Brown, schooled in the "prophylactic use of the cow-pox," had already vaccinated more than 500 persons before the skep- tical physicians of New York and Philadelphia would under- take the experiment. 7 However, the noted French traveler, Francois A. Michaux, made rather caustic observations on the "budding metropolis" when he visited Lexington in 1802. "They are nearly all natives of Virginia," said he. "With them, the passion for 6 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS gaming and spirituous liquors is carried to excess, which fre- quently terminates in quarrels, degrading to human nature. The public houses are always crowded, more especially during the sittings of the courts of justice. Horses and lawsuits com- prise the usual topic of their conversation. If a traveler happens to pass by, his horse is appreciated, if he stops he is presented with a glass of whiskey." But Michaux also noted that the homes of the Kentuckians were neat, the women "very atten- tive to their domestic concerns," Sundays scrupulously observed, and the children "kept punctually at school." 8 The criticism of the Frenchman was no doubt substantially correct, certainly so as to the early practice of gaming in Lex- ington, which largely consisted of wagering on horse races and card playing. The "ancient and honorable" rites of the card table were the amusement of tavern loungers, travelers, and the best citizens alike. Even the dignified and respected John Bradford, editor of the Gazette, and the Honorable Henry Clay, gallant "Harry of the West," were not immune from this intriguing diversion in which the desire to win exceeded the mere love of pecuniary gain. One morning these two gentlemen met each other on the street. Luck had deserted Bradford the previous evening, and the turn of the last card had made him debtor to Clay in the sum of $40,000. "Clay," said Bradford, "what are you going to do about that money you won last night? My entire property, you know, won't pay the half of it." "Oh, give me your note for five hundred dollars," said Clay nonchalantly, "and let the balance go." The note was promptly executed, and a few nights later chance frowned on Clay, and he lost $60,000 to Bradford. Next day the same conversation ensued as before, except the situation was reversed, and Brad- ford quickly dismissed the matter saying: "Oh, give me back that note I gave you the other day for five hundred dollars, and we'll call it square." 9 It was not many years, however, before the citizen of Lex- ATHENS OF THE WEST 7 ington could find other ways to spend his leisure. Early in the first decade of the new century a theater was built, and whatever itinerant troupes lacked in dramatic art was made up in range of repertoire. Playgoers of Lexington were treated to every- thing from Macbeth to the farce, Matrimony, or the Happy Imprisonment. The first menageries visited the town when permission was given Thomas Adron to "shew his lyon" on the public square and the Gazette advertised the exhibition of a "living elephant." "Perhaps the present generation may never have the opportunity of seeing a living elephant again," said Bradford editorially. Wax figure exhibits, usually held in the ballroom of the local tavern at which the exhibitor stopped, were infrequent but popular sources of amusement. These figures depicted tragedies, famous personages, and great historical events. The killing of Alexander Hamilton by Aaron Burr had deeply aroused the Western Country, and the first waxworks which opened in Lexington, while Colonel Burr was then on his way to Kentucky, contained a graphic reproduction of the famous duel. 10 Conspicuously elevated on a platform the images of Colonel Hamilton and Colonel Burr glared stolidly at each other over their long leveled pistols, and a card pinned to the latter's coattails bore a vivid, if inaccurate, description of the encounter: Oh, Aaron Burr, what hast thou done? Thou hast shooted dead great Hamilton. You got behind a bunch of thistle And shot him dead with a big hoss-pistol. A few weeks later, when Colonel Burr and his attendant rode up to Wilson's Tavern at the end of a journey on horse- back from the "unhealthy and inconsiderable" village of Louis- ville, 11 a small boy recognized him from the likeness he had seen at the waxworks and excitedly notified the proprietor of the celebrity's arrival. After a journey south, Burr returned to Lexington, where he remained for some time in consultation 8 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS with Harman Blennerhasset and others, and here, as it was later charged, Burr laid some of his deepest plans for the estab- lishment of a western empire. He was still in town when Colonel Joseph Hamilton Daviess, United States district attorney, filed charges of treason against him, which were finally dismissed, in the midst of much popular excitement, on motion of his counsel, Henry Clay. When Colonel Burr was again arraigned for treason at Richmond, Virginia, Lexington was still hotly divided upon the question of the defendant's guilt, and the chief witness for the prosecu- tion was James Wilkinson, commanding general of the United States Army, an early citizen of Lexington and first captain of her famous light infantry company. The Burr-Wilkinson controversy, however, was finally over- shadowed and forgotten as the storm clouds of war with Great Britain appeared in the distance. On June 22, 1807, the British warship Leopard bombarded the American frigate Chesapeake, its deck uncleared, into surrender, and the Western Country flamed with indignation. From that day on, the Lexington press never ceased to advocate war on England. 12 It was firmly believed that British influence lay behind the Indian excursions that now began to spring up, and hostilities had actually begun on the frontier many months before the formal declaration of war. Early in November, 1811, Colonel Daviess left Lexington with a company of volunteers to join General William H. Harrison against the Indians on the upper Wabash, and on the morning of November 7 at the battle of Tippecanoe, Lexington suffered her first casualties of the War of 1812. Colonel Daviess fell mortally wounded at the head of his troops with three bullets in his breast. 13 Lexington's own peerless Harry of the West with fiery elo- quence was leading the impetuous youth of the nation to a militant resentment of long-suffered foreign aggression, and when on Friday, June 26, 1812, the postrider galloped into town with news that Congress had at last declared war on Eng- land, enthusiasm and patriotic ardor swept aside all bounds. ATHENS OF THE WEST 9 "Cannon were fired, Captain Hart's company of Volunteer In- fantry paraded, and joy and gladness beamed upon the coun- tenance of every friend of his country." 14 "News of the Decla- ration of War," said the Gazette four days later, "arrived in this place on Friday last, when there was a firing of cannon and musquetry commenced, and kept up until late in the evening. . . . Houses were illuminated and most decided evi- dence of approbation of the measures, was everywhere mani- fested." Six companies were quickly raised in Lexington and Fayette County. The muster ground swarmed with eager, smooth- cheeked lads and silent, grizzled Indian fighters, anxious to shoulder arms against the hated foe. The editor of the Gazette laid down his pen for a rifle and joined Captain Hart's infantry- men as a private. August 18, 1812, was a gala day in Lexington. Never before had there been so many people in town. Streets were blocked, windows and doors jammed, as the Fifth Regiment of Kentucky Volunteers, with drums beating and colors flying, "marched through town amidst the cheers and acclamations of a vast concourse of their grateful fellow citizens." Refreshments were served at Saunders' Garden, followed by an eloquent and stir- ring address from Henry Clay, and then the raw but ardent troops adjusted their knapsacks and started on the long march toward the enemy somewhere in the wilderness of the North- west. From the beginning of the new year the Kentucky Volun- teers, particularly the companies from the Bluegrass, were heavily engaged against motley hordes of savages and British regulars. The months that passed were full of anxiety and suspense for the women back home, though they kept busy with spinning wheel and knitting needle, making supplies for the troops at the front. "Warm linsey clothes, socks, blankets, linen shirts, and shoes will enable our brave militia who have marched away, to think only of the enemy, of battle, of revenge, and of victory," wrote one of them, "and with these the women 10 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS of Kentucky, like those of Sparta, will be charming in the eyes of their countrymen and terrible to their enemies." 15 On February 9, 1813, the Gazette announced in leaded col- umns the ambush and terrible butchery at the River Raisin, where the finest sons of the Bluegrass had fallen by the score. Captain Nathaniel Hart, wounded and captured, had been scalped and murdered by a drunken Indian. Scarcely a home had escaped bereavement, and though inured to peril and bloodshed, the town was plunged into the deepest gloom and sorrow. Grief, however, soon gave way to indignation and a burning desire to avenge the massacre. Marching feet again trod the muster ground to the stirring accompaniment of fife and drum, and campfires blazed in every direction. The ven- erable Isaac Shelby, first governor of the commonwealth, who had again been called to the executive chair, announced that he would lead the recently organized battalions, and the news that the old Revolutionary hero of Kings Mountain was once more in the saddle caused widespread enthusiasm. All during the following spring and summer the Kentuck- ians stalked their ancient enemies through the tangled under- brush of a strange country, forcing the British and their savage allies slowly northward. Resistance, however, was stubborn and there were bloody checks now and then. The disaster at Fort Meigs left many vacant chairs around the firesides of Lex- ington. But finally there came a bright sunny day in October when the postrider halted his foam-flecked pony at Wilson's Tavern with thrilling news and with ' 'Victory" printed in big letters on his hat. 16 General Harrison had met a small force of British regulars under General Henry A. Proctor and about twelve hundred Indians commanded by their famous chief Tecumseh near the Thames River. At a critical stage of the contest Colonel Rich- ard M. Johnson led his mounted Kentuckians in a wild charge under a galling fire against the British flank, and then dis- mounting, his force engaged the Indians in a terrific hand-to- hand encounter. This time the blood-curdling war whoops Transylvania University in the 1820's. From an old print owned by Transylvania College Title page of The Kentucky Preceptor that Lincoln studied From the original in the F. M. heboid Collection KENTUCKY PRECEPTOR. CONTAINING A NUMBER Or USEFUL LESSONS FOR READING AND SPEAKING. COMPILED FOP. T!IE ISE OF SCHOOLS. P»Y A TEACHER. ncliRlilful task ! 10 rear the tender thought, To u m h the toiing iftoa how to shoot, To pour the fresh mstruriloii o'er tin- mind, To breathe the < nl:vening spirit, ami tn fix Tile generous purpose in the globing breast. TaosirsoS' Una KPITIOV, DEVISED, WITH C0NSIDERAI1LE ADDlTIO.Vf COFT-IUGHT SECUKID ilCOM I-KXINGTO.V, (Ki.) PI'BLISliLD BY MACCOIX, TILFORD & f«. *> thL 4^<^ a&~**> /eft **r£*%sf fft**-' tJZf-Z-t*^ ** /h+* *&// ,•»-*»- *>.**& 0-*«*/ +*/~ £+>**? Thomas Lincoln testifies how his brother spelled his name ATHENS OF THE WEST 11 were lost in frenzied shouts of "Remember the Raisin." Colonel Johnson, with five bullets in his body, his white horse smeared with gore from fifteen wounds, had slain the great Tecumseh with a bullet from his long, silver-mounted pistol! Most of the British and many Indians had surrendered, and the terror- stricken survivors fled in great disorder. 17 The enthusiasm and rejoicing in Lexington at the news of this victory were boundless, and while cannon roared, the town was illuminated and plans were made for a banquet for Gov- ernor Shelby, Colonel Johnson, and other heroes of the battle. American soil was now free from British occupation in the Northwest, and a year later, hostilities were over. At the close of the war with England, Lexington settled down for a long era of peace and cultural development. 18 A traveler in 1816 was thus deeply impressed by the town and its inhabitants: The beautiful vale of Town Fork, which in 1797, I saw varie- gated with corn fields, meadows, and trees [said Judge Brown], had in my absence been covered with stately and elegant build- ings—in short, a large and beautiful town had arisen by the creative genius of the West. The log cabins had disappeared, and in their places stood costly brick mansions, well painted and enclosed by fine yards, bespeaking the taste and wealth of their possessors. The leathern pantaloons, the hunting-shirts and leggings had been dis- carded, for the dress and manners of the inhabitants had entirely changed. The scenery around Lexington almost equals that of the Elysium of the Ancients. Philadelphia, with all its surrounding beauties, scarcely equals it. The surface resembles the gentle swell of the ocean, when the agitations of a storm have nearly subsided. The roads are very fine and wide. The grazing parks have a peculiar neatness; the charming groves, the small, square and beautiful meadows, and above all, the wide spreading forests of corn waving in grandeur and luxuriance and perfuming the air with its fra- grance, combine to render a summer's view of Lexington inex- pressibly rich, novel, grand and picturesque. The site of the town is in a valley, but the declivities are so 12 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS gentle that some travelers, not scrupulously accurate, have described it as a plain. Town Fork Creek waters the central parts of the town. . . . Main Street presents to the traveler as much wealth and more beauty than can be found in most of the Atlantic cities. It is about eighty feet wide, level, compactly built, well paved and having foot ways twelve feet wide on each side. . . . There are two bookstores, and three printing offices, from which are issued as many weekly papers, viz: the Reporter and Kentucky Gazette, both Republican, and the Monitor, Federal, and the only one of that political caste in the State. The inhabitants are as polished, and I regret to add as luxurious as those of Boston, New York and Baltimore, and their assemblies are conducted with as much ease and grace, as in the oldest towns of the Union. 19 The early twenties of the nineteenth century found Lex- ington a thriving place, noted far and wide for its culture and its educational institutions, and exceedingly proud of its dis- tinguished citizens who had won fame in arts, science, and politics. 20 Set in a grove of large forest trees, Transylvania University occupied a spacious, three-storied, brick building containing thirty rooms and surmounted by a tall, ornate cupola. In a short time the first institution of higher learning in the West had become widely known for its able and learned faculty, and the scope and thoroughness of its courses of instruction. The reputation of the university at this period can perhaps be indicated by comparison of its enrollment with schools of rec- ognized study in the East. In March, 1821, Yale College had but thirty-seven more students than Transylvania; Harvard exceeded her by only four; while Union, Dartmouth, and Princeton were considerably outnumbered. 21 No traveler stopped overnight at Wilson's Tavern without hearing much of the personal history of Dr. Constantine Rafin- esque, the early French- American naturalist and botanist; Mat- thew H. Jouett, artist and pupil of the celebrated Gilbert Stuart; Dr. Horace Holley, the gifted educator, president of Transylvania University; Gideon Shryock, the architect; John Breckinridge, attorney general in the cabinet of Thomas Jef- ATHENS OF THE WEST 13 ferson; and Henry Clay, speaker of the national House of Rep- resentatives, idol of the Whig party, and candidate for President of the United States. And among the younger generation there were those who would also write their names into the pages of the nation's history— some of whom fate had marked for tragic roles. Down on West Short Street a bright, vivacious little girl with a temperament like an April day romped with her broth- ers and sisters about the ample grounds of her father's com- fortable home. Her grandfather had been one of the party of hunters who gave the town its name that night in June nearly a half-century before. In her veins ran the blood of a long line of sturdy Americans, noted for their courage, character, and high achievements. Frequently her playmate was a small lad in his first trousers, with black hair, twinkling gray eyes, and a firm, resolute chin. John C. Breckinridge would some day be Vice-President of the United States, a candidate for President against the girl's hus- band, and would go down, at the zenith of his fame, with the wreck of a lost cause. Two blocks away, a slender, fair-haired youth attended Transylvania. He would come to know these two children very well indeed as the years went by. Though a lad in his sixteenth year, he had been elected by his class to a high place of honor in the closing exercises of the college year. On commencement day those who looked at the program saw that the name of the young man who had just delivered the oration entitled "Friendship" was Jefferson Davis of Mis- sissippi. 22 The following year Washington's birthday was celebrated at the Episcopal church with orations by Robert J. Breckinridge of the Whig Society and by Gustavius A. Henry of the Union Philosophical Society. In the evening, said the Kentucky Re- porter, "a large party of gentlemen attached to the Philosophi- cal Society dined at Giron's where sumptuous and elegant repasts were served and toasts were drunk with the applause 14 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS of the company." President Horace Holley and other members of the Transylvania faculty proposed several of the thirty-six toasts, among them being: "To the health and prosperity of Jefferson Davis, late a student of Transylvania University, now a Cadet at West Point— May he become the pride of our Coun- try and the idol of our Army." 23 The educational advantages of Lexington, however, were not confined to those enrolled in her local institutions. Over in the backwoods of Indiana a tall, gangling, awkward youth in a linsey-woolsey shirt and outgrown buckskin breeches that exposed his sharp blue shinbones pored over a small volume bound in gray boards and entitled the Kentucky Preceptor. 2 * This little book which contained, as stated in its preface, "the most fascinating and instructive historical accounts, dialogues and orations, with the different kinds of reading in prose and verse" had been carefully "compiled for the use of schools" and published at Lexington by Maccoun, Tilford and Com- pany. "The great importance of having proper books put in the hands of the rising generation, at an early period of life," continued the preface, "must be sufficiently evident to every reflecting mind. It is from these that the mind receives, in the most of cases, its first and most lasting impressions." Young Abraham Lincoln had obtained this book from Jo- siah Crawford, a tightfisted neighbor whom the boys derisively called "Old Blue Nose." A short time before he had borrowed Parson Weems' Life of Washington, which had been soaked by rain that blew through cracks in the Lincoln cabin. Abe had "pulled fodder" three days in payment for that damaged volume, and now he took special care that nothing should happen to the Kentucky Preceptor. Having learned to read, write, and "cipher to the Rule of Three," Lincoln's school days were over, but the choice literature between the covers of the Lexington compilation was an education in itself, and the backwoods boy absorbed it eagerly. Returning to the cabin after a hard day in the fields, he would "snatch a piece of corn- ATHENS OF THE WEST 15 pone from the cupboard, sit down in a corner, cock his long legs up as high as his head and lose himself in the Kentucky Preceptor." 25 "Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still slavery!" began an essay on "Liberty." "Still thou art a bitter draught, and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that account." Another article, entitled "The Desperate Negro," told the pathetic story of a faithful slave who cut his own throat to escape a flogging at the hands of his master. The Preceptor also related how Demosthenes overcame his defects of speech by "putting pebble stones into his mouth" and speaking to the waves along the seashore; it quoted the burning words of Robert Emmet, the Irish patriot, as he stood condemned to death for treason, the inaugural address of Thomas Jefferson, and the exquisite lines of Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard. But even as Lincoln practiced the elocution lessons of the Preceptor from the stumps of Indiana clearings, the golden age of Lexington was swiftly drawing to a close. The churning wheels of a new invention, the steamboat, had diverted the current of trade to the river towns of Cincinnati and Louisville, toppling the inland metropolis from her pedestal of commercial supremacy. Yet the capital of the Bluegrass with her elegant homes, churches, seminaries, artists, and statesmen, "pervaded by an air of ease and politeness in the social intercourse of the inhabitants which evinced the cultivation of taste and good feeling," would serenely maintain for many a day unchallenged title to the proud sobriquet: "Athens of the West." 26 TWO The Lincolns of Fayette iN 1782 Abraham Lincoln, eldest son of "Virginia" John Lincoln, left the old plantation in the Shenandoah Valley to find a new home in the Western Country. With his wife and children, household goods and flintlock rifle, he followed the blood-stained Wilderness Road over the rugged Cumberlands into the rolling, fertile lowlands of Kentucky. Four years later, wrapped in deerskins with a lead slug in his back, the pioneer was laid away in a rude grave on the slope of a little hill near Hughes' Station in Jefferson County. 1 On September 23, 1782, Abraham's youngest brother Thomas married Elizabeth Casner and brought his wife to the paternal roof on Linville Creek. Following the death of "Vir- ginia" John, Thomas conveyed his interest in his father's estate to his brother Jacob for the sum of 560 pounds, giving 100 pounds of the purchase money to his mother, Rebecca Lincoln. 2 Then he too gathered up his family and set out over the same road that his favorite brother had traveled nine years before. 3 It is quite probable that Thomas Lincoln had been greatly impressed by the glowing descriptions of "Kaintuckee" that THE LINCOLNS OF FAYETTE 17 Abraham had sent back home. At any rate, on November 14, 1792, he purchased from Lewis Craig 290 acres in Fayette County on the waters of the south fork of Elkhorn Creek in consideration of 400 pounds cash. 4 Thomas Lincoln chose his new home with discriminating judgment. He did not locate in Jefferson County, as had Abra- ham, nor in Washington County, where his brother's widow Bathsheba and his nephews, Mordecai, Josiah, and his name- sake Thomas, then were living. These counties had thinner soil and a far less attractive topography than the Bluegrass region. The Lewis Craig farm was situated in one of the richest and most inviting spots in all Kentucky, just five miles from the town of Lexington. During the next fifteen or sixteen years Thomas Lincoln became one of the most prosperous men in the South Elkhorn neighborhood. He owned slaves, 5 and with this labor under the management of his older sons 6 he kept the farm in a high state of cultivation, raising corn, tobacco, hemp, and many hogs which he slaughtered and dressed for the market. Lincoln himself seems to have been largely occupied in the operation of a flourishing stillhouse on Elkhorn Creek near a fine spring of clear limestone water where he manufactured an excellent brand of bourbon whisky. 7 He also had money to lend, and the records of the Fayette Circuit Court between 1803 and 1809 show many suits filed by him against persons who had failed to pay their notes. 8 The beginning of 1809 presented a sharp contrast in the fortunes of Thomas Lincoln of Fayette County and his nephew Thomas of Hardin County. It was a momentous year for them both, though neither knew it then. The younger man lived on Nolin Creek with his little family in a rude log cabin with a dirt floor and a stick chimney daubed with clay. The thin sterile soil of his rough hill farm yielded hardly more than the barest necessities of life. Yet the head of this humble house- hold was at peace with the world. Nancy Hanks was a good wife; their little daughter Sarah was two years old, and her 18 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS presence alone made the bare cabin far from cheerless. The Lincolns were expecting another child in a few weeks and hoping for a son. The uncle, however, in spite of his Bluegrass farm, his comfortable home, his slaves, and his stillhouse, was an un- happy man. Clouds were gathering rapidly on the horizon of Thomas Lincoln's domestic life. And just twenty-five days before the "child of destiny" arrived at the Nolin Creek cabin, the storm broke on South Elkhorn. On that day Lincoln exe- cuted a deed of trust to his son-in-law, John O'Nan, and his wife Elizabeth which recited that "divers controversies has arisen between Thomas Lincoln and Elizabeth in so much that the said Elizabeth hath come to a final determination to reside with her husband no longer," and he conveyed for her benefit his livestock, household furniture, and other personal property including "one negro man named Major, one negro girl named Charlotte and one negro boy named Moses; one brown horse and saddle and bridle and a brindle cow that gives milk." 9 By the same instrument Elizabeth "releases the said Thomas Lincoln from any further support in as full and compleat a manner as she is authorized by law to do." 10 At the same time, Lincoln deeded his farm to his eight children, re- serving a life estate to himself. 11 But before the summer was over, the family troubles seem to have been adjusted. On August 15, 1809, Lincoln signed a contract with his wife, who was then living in Shelby County with her daughter, Margaret O'Nan, and another son-in-law, David Rice, which provided "that said Thomas covenants and agrees with said Elizabeth and David that he the said Thomas will receive the said Elizabeth into his family and treat her kindly and provide for her and the children and in case he should fail to treat his wife Elizabeth as a wife ought to be treated, said Thomas agrees to depart from the family estate or farm and take nothing but a horse, saddle & bridle and all his clothes leaving the rest of the estate to his wife & children THE LINCOLNS OF FAYETTE 19 and never to return, unless by consent of said Elizabeth and David to said farm." 12 The reconciliation, however, was short-lived, and on March 31, 1810, Lincoln filed a suit in the Fayette Circuit Court to set aside the deed of conveyance which he had made to his wife and children. His bill of complaint contained a long recital of marital woe. He said that by " Forty years of hard labour" he had accumulated an estate worth several thousand pounds and "until his mind became distracted by the unhappy chain of differences with his said wife few men laboured harder & lived more honestly than himself"; that "he loves and de- sires his said wife & with truth can say that whatever of his conduct towards her that may have savoured of either injustice or cruelty has proceeded either from a deranged mind or casual intemperance & intoxication, and while he, with the deepest contrition and remorse laments & acknowledges those errors of his own life, it has been the misfortune of his wife to have her errors also." He alleged further that the deed of trust was obtained from him when he was sick and that the "defts. Elizabeth and Abra- ham tore him out of his bed, his wife demanded the deed and actually approached to strike him with a chair & was about to strike him when plaintiff repeled the blow by striking her, when the said defendant, Abraham, the son, ordered plaintiff for a damned old rascal to strip himself & in the most beastly and barbarous manner beat plaintiff until he was satisfied." He also averred that his son-in-law, Rice, had converted to his own use "about 20 barrels of plaintiff's pork & that the deft. Abraham has taken and converted to his own use between 400 & 500 gallons of whisky." 13 The answers of Elizabeth Lincoln, her son Abraham, and her sons-in-law, David Rice and John O'Nan, were filed in Fayette Circuit Court on September 18, 1810. Defts. say that they deny that part of the bill which charges said settlement deeds to have been done through the machinations 20 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS of any one, and that the truth really is and was that these settle- ment deeds resulted from a most infamous and fraudulent project of the plaintiff to get clear of his wife— to be divorced with a view to getting married again to a young woman. To which end he applied to the Assembly without delay and as soon as he failed there he became excessively embarrassed to make up the difference again with his wife. . . . Thereupon the said Elizabeth came back and agreed to live with plff which she hath ever since done as a good and true wife, but the plff hath never since that period at- tended to anything about his house or place, and hath been very abusive to the deft, Elizabeth, & has twice kicked her with his feet 8c once thrown a chair at her & gives her very repeatedly the most abusive language. . . . Deft. Abraham, saith that it is wholly untrue that he did the violence to the plff which he states but the true reason of the plff's violence toward him is his defense of his mother's person & property from the plaintiff's hand, who desires it to dissipate away to the impoverishment of his wife and children. On Thursday morning, December 13, 1810, the litigants met in the low-beamed parlor of John Keiser's Indian Queen Tavern in Lexington to take the depositions of witnesses for the defendants. At one end of the long pine table brought in from the taproom sat Thomas Lincoln with his attorney, Robert Wickliffe, one of the ablest land lawyers in the West, whose lofty stature and courtly manners made him widely known in later years as the "Old Duke." At the other end of the table sat Elizabeth Lincoln, her son Abraham, and her sons-in-law, John O'Nan and David Rice. They also were represented by distinguished counsel, Colonel Joseph Hamilton Daviess, noted Indian fighter, prosecutor of Aaron Burr, the first western lawyer to appear before the Su- preme Court of the United States, and the brother-in-law of Chief Justice John Marshall. Between the parties, near the center of the table, sat the presiding justices, William Worley and John Bradford, editor and publisher of the Kentucky Ga- zette. Across from them stood a high-backed hickory chair with a cornhusk bottom for the witnesses. The first witness introduced for the defendants was Peter THE LINCOLNS OF FAYETTE 21 Warfield. He was a tenant, he said, on Lincoln's farm and lived within a quarter of a mile of his house. From his personal ob- servation the complainant's recent conduct toward his wife had not been "that of a kind and affectionate husband." Colonel Daviess: Is the complainant the aggressor when dis- putes have arisen between himself and wife? Witness: Most generally he is. Colonel Daviess: During last winter, while the wife of the complainant was preparing to commence distilling, did not the complainant secret the caps & cocks of the still for the purpose of preventing her doing so? Witness: It is my opinion that he did hide them, as he very readily found them when he wished to do so. Mr. Wickliffe: Is not Mrs. Lincoln in the habit of frequent intoxication? Witness: I have frequently seen her in that state since I became a tenant of her husband. Mr. Wickliffe: Have you not heard the complainant's wife make use of very gross vulgar language to the complainant during their quarrels? Witness: I have. 14 Colonel Daviess: Is it not generally believed in the neighbor- hood that Mrs. Lincoln's intemperance proceeded from the bad conduct of her husband? Witness: I believe it is. 15 A youth by the name of James Fleming was next called by the defendants, and after being sworn, stated that "in the month of May or June, 1809, this deponent was harrowing corn for the complainant, when he asked this deponent if he pre- pared poison for his wife whether he would give it to her and said that if he would, he would give him the best horse on his farm, which proposition this deponent rejected." Mr. Wickliffe: How long has it been since you first mentioned this circumstance? Witness: About six months ago. Mr. Wickliffe: Was there any previous conversation which led to this proposition? 22 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Witness: There was not. Colonel Daviess: Was the complainant in a state of intoxica- tion when he made you this proposition? Witness: No, he appeared perfectly sober. 16 Further interrogation showed that young Fleming was liv- ing at Peter Warfield's house, and it was insinuated by Lincoln's counsel that Warfield had influenced the boy's testimony. It is evident from the papers in the case that the tenant, Peter Warfield, was one of the "evilly disposed persons" re- ferred to in Lincoln's bill of complaint, and that he held War- field responsible for the circulation of the story that he had attempted to bribe the Fleming boy to poison Mrs. Lincoln. Thomas Lincoln was no longer a young man, and doubtless his once robust physique was somewhat shattered by dissipation, but like all the Lincolns he did not lack personal courage, nor was he averse to a fight when aroused. The testimony taken that morning in the parlor of the Indian Queen must have enraged him intensely, for when the taking of the depositions had been adjourned, he promptly laid violent hands upon the luckless Peter and gave him a most terrific thrashing. The office of the high sheriff was only three blocks away and the town watchhouse even closer, but Warfield did not have his assailant arrested. On the contrary, he went home and, having sufficiently recovered, came to town next morning and filed suit against Lincoln for assault and battery, alleging in his petition that on the previous day Thomas Lincoln did "with fists and feet commit an assault upon the said plaintiff & him, the said plff, then & there did beat, wound & evily treat so that his life was despaired of greatly." 17 The litigation between the Lincolns dragged along until June 13, 1811, when an order was entered which recited that "The parties having agreed, it is ordered that this suit be dis- missed." 18 Evidently the termination of the suit was hastened by the fact that Colonel Daviess, counsel for defendants, was leaving that day with his regiment to join General Harrison in his campaign against the Indians on the Wabash. THE LINCOLNS OF FAYETTE 23 The record is silent as to the terms of the settlement, but there is good reason to believe that the case did not end favor- ably to Thomas Lincoln. Certainly he never regained his for- mer prosperity or much, if any, of his property. On the contrary, he seems to have gone steadily down to utter insol- vency, and perhaps poverty, during the years that followed. 19 Only once more before his death did the name of Thomas Lincoln appear in the public records. Nearly a year after the end of the Fayette County litigation in which he was so disas- trously involved, Thomas was called as a witness on May 19, 1812, to identify the signature of his deceased brother, Captain Abraham Lincoln. Mordecai Lincoln, the captain's son, had brought a suit in the Nelson Circuit Court against Benjamin Grayson, guardian for the heirs of John Reed, alleging that Abraham Lincoln in the year 1783 had procured a warrant for 2,268 acres of land "at the lower end of the first Narrows below the first Buffalo crossing above the mouth of Bear Creek" and running down to Green River; that it was agreed between Lincoln and Reed that the latter should receive half the land for locating and surveying it, but that Reed had forged Lincoln's name to the assignment— spelling it, however, "Linkhorn"— and had then "fraudulently claimed all of it as his own." During the taking of his deposition at the statehouse in Frankfort, Thomas Lincoln was asked by Mordecai: "Do you know how my father Abraham Lincoln spelt his name?" To which the witness replied: "He spelt it Abraham Lincoln." "Are you acquainted with Abraham Lincoln's handwriting?" asked Mordecai. "I am," replied Thomas, "having lived near him and seeing his writing often." The witness was then shown the questioned signature on the Reed document, and he emphatically declared it to be a forgery. 20 Peter Warfield did not press his action for assault and bat- tery, and having found a more peaceful place of abode beyond the pale of Thomas Lincoln's wrath and the jurisdiction of the 24 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS court, he let the case be dismissed. 21 "I had a very teageous journey," writes Warfield from St. Genevieve, Louisiana, "I was six weaks on the road but feal myself purfectly satisfyde with the cuntry." 22 Thus, the dust-stained archives of the Fayette Circuit Court through a tragic, long-forgotten litigation reveal glimpses of Thomas Lincoln more intimate and personal than has ever been known of any other Lincoln except the President himself. But the cause of the trouble which brought ruin to the once happy household on South Elkhorn will remain unknown. Whether Thomas Lincoln finally succumbed to the nagging of a shrewish spouse, or fell an unwilling victim to the wiles of some rural vampire, or deliberately in his old age wandered away from the domestic rooftree in search of adventure, cannot now be ascertained. It is probable, however, that mutual indul- gence to excess in the mellow juice of Kentucky corn was a vital factor in the marital unhappiness of Thomas and Eliza- beth Lincoln. The exact date of Thomas Lincoln's death is uncertain, though it occurred sometime during 1820. He was living on January 21 when Harbin Moore wrote his attorney and com- plained of "old Lincoln keeping himself concealed for eighteen months." 23 But on December 11 commissioners were appointed to divide among his children the land conveyed by the deed of trust, and the order recited that Thomas Lincoln was de- ceased. 24 In a few years the Lincolns disappeared from Fayette Coun- ty, and the court records indicate the removal of some of them to Missouri. Wherever they went, they now sank out of sight like all the rest of Abraham Lincoln's collateral relatives, never to make themselves known to their great kinsman in the tragic years of his fame. 25 THREE The Early Todds AMONG the party of woodsmen who founded Lexington was Levi Todd, a stalwart Pennsylvanian just recently arrived in Kentucky. 1 He and his two older brothers, John and Robert, were the sons of David Todd of Providence Township, Mont- gomery County, Pennsylvania. They had been educated in Virginia at the school of their uncle, the Reverend John Todd, who later obtained from the state legislature the charter for Transylvania Seminary and gave it the first library brought to Kentucky. 2 Levi, John, and Robert had embarked upon the study of law, but dry parchment and musty tomes were not for them. Their ancestors were stubborn, restless Scottish Covenanters who had fiercely opposed the Duke of Monmouth at Bothwell Bridge and in defiance of the Established Church of England had fled their native heath for the north of Ireland and thence to America. The "Dark and Bloody Ground," the land of adventure, romance, and opportunity, lay beyond the hazy Al- leghenies, and in 1775 the three Todd brothers bade farewell to the Old Dominion and journeyed westward over the toma- hawk-blazed Wilderness Road. 26 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Levi Todd went directly to Harrodsburg but soon joined the defenders of the fort at St. Asaph's in Lincoln County. Here he married Jane Briggs on February 25, 1779. Later he founded Todd's Station and became the clerk of the first court held in the Western Country. 3 In 1780 he moved to Lexington, purchased property at the first sale of town lots, and was ap- pointed the first clerk of the Fayette County Court, which office he held until his death many years later. Like his two brothers, Levi Todd took an active part in the military operations of the pioneers. He was a lieutenant under General Clark in his expedition against Kaskaskia and Vincennes, and participated in several retaliatory excursions against the Indians in the Northwest Territory. In the thickest of the ill-fated fight at Blue Licks, he was one of the few officers to survive the battle. Later he succeeded Colonel Daniel Boone in command of the Kentucky militia with the rank of major general. 4 General Todd was deeply interested in every enterprise that went to the development of Lexington and the new common- wealth, and for many years he was a member of the board of trustees of Transylvania University. 5 "Ellerslie," his elegant country estate situated on the Richmond Pike just beyond "Ashland," the home of Henry Clay, was one of the show places around Lexington, and here he reared a family of eleven chil- dren. Robert Smith Todd, the seventh child, was born February 25, 1791. 6 He was brought up from the time he could read and write in the office of the Fayette County clerk and entered Transylvania at the early age of fourteen. According to Dr. James Blythe, the president, he studied "Mathematics, Geog- raphy, Rhetoric, Logic, Natural & Moral Philosophy, Astron- omy, perfected himself in the Latin language, made consider- able progress in the Greek & history & conducted himself in a becoming & praiseworthy manner." 7 By the time Robert S. Todd left college he was nearly six feet in height, erect and graceful in manner, with brown hair and eyes and a ruddy complexion. He immediately entered Fhomas Lincoln's stillhouse near Lexington ^holograph taken by the author Ellkrslie," home of Levi Todd, as it looked just before it was razed Robert S. Todd From an original oil portrait owned by the author THE EARLY TODDS 27 the office of Thomas Bodley, clerk of the Fayette Circuit Court, where, said Bodley, he "supported a fair and unblemished character, remarkable for his industry, integrity and correct deportment." 8 In addition to his clerical duties he studied law under the tutelage of George M. Bibb, chief justice of the Ken- tucky Court of Appeals, United States senator, and secretary of the treasury under President Tyler, and on September 28, 1811, he was admitted to the bar. 9 It is possible that the young lawyer hung out his shingle for a brief period in Lexington, but if he did, there is no record of it. In any event he kept his job with Bodley, and he had good reason to do so. He was more than absorbed in wooing seventeen-year-old Eliza Parker, and if he should be so fortunate as to win her, he must save enough from his earn- ings in the clerk's office to sustain them over the lean years which confronted every fledgling barrister. The Parkers were among the most substantial people of the town. Major Robert Parker, an officer in the Revolution and first cousin of Levi Todd, had in March, 1789, married Elizabeth R. Porter, eldest daughter of General Andrew Porter, a friend of General Washington and veteran of the battles of Trenton, Princeton, Brandywine, and Germantown. Immedi- ately following the wedding the young soldier and his bride had set out on horseback from Pennsylvania over the moun- tains to Lexington, where they arrived in May. 10 Major Parker was the first surveyor of Fayette County, the clerk of the first board of trustees of Lexington, and according to tradition he erected the first brick residence in the town. When on March 4, 1800, Major Parker died at his country seat in Fayette County, the Gazette described him as "an early adventurer to Kentucky— of extensive acquaintance— and uni- versally esteemed." 11 Under the terms of Major Parker's will his widow and children were left a comfortable fortune consisting of town lots, farmlands, slaves, and personal property. The whole of the estate was devised to Mrs. Parker during her life, with only one injunction: "It is my sincere will and desire," wrote 28 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS the testator a few hours before his death, "that all my children shall be carefully brought up and well educated." 12 In 1811 the Widow Parker lived in a rather imposing house on West Short Street, and her children attended the best schools in Kentucky. Her daughter Eliza was sprightly and attractive, with a placid, sunny disposition, a sharp con- trast to her impetuous, high-strung cousin, Robert S. Todd. The courtship was progressing in a manner highly satis- factory to all concerned, when suddenly there came the rattle of "musquetry" and the booming of cannon as the delighted inhabitants of Lexington greeted the declaration of war against Great Britain. The thrill of combat from a long line of fighting ancestors ran through the veins of both the young deputy clerk and his sweetheart. Although barely twenty-one, Todd was already captain of a local company of raw militiamen, and now he eagerly began to prepare them for immediate service. 13 However, on finding that the quota of Nathaniel Hart's veteran organization was yet unfilled, Captain Todd promptly dis- banded his own company and enlisted with his men in the Lexington Light Infantry, a proud military outfit that dated back to the time of "Mad Anthony" Wayne. 14 In a few weeks the Fifth Kentucky Regiment was ready to start for the general rendezvous at Georgetown, and on that memorable day in August, 1812, as the "Old Infantry," re- splendent in "brilliant uniforms of blue, with red facings, bell- buttons and jaunty red cockades floating from their black hats," marched down Short Street, Eliza Parker waved a brave good- by to Private Todd from the side porch of her mother's house. From Georgetown the Kentucky troops marched rapidly northward through a continual downpour of rain, and as the Old Infantry reached Newport, Robert S. Todd was stricken with pneumonia. For several weeks he lay dangerously ill in a rude shack on the low, marshy campground along the Ohio River, and when the regiment pushed on, Todd was left be- hind under the care of his brother Samuel, who after a few weeks brought him back home to Lexington. THE EARLY TODDS 29 Recuperating quickly, the young soldier soon began to think of his comrades now slowly plodding in quest of the enemy through unbroken forests toward the Great Lakes. Every issue of the Reporter and the Gazette contained accounts of their hardships and adventures, until Todd, now fully re- covered, found that he could no longer remain at home while the companions of his boyhood braved the perils of approach- ing winter in a wilderness infested by a treacherous foe. Plucky Eliza Parker was again willing that he should go. Moreover, she was willing to become his wife before he went, and on November 26, 1812, at the home of the Widow Parker, Eliza was married to Private Robert S. Todd of the Fifth Regiment, Kentucky Volunteers. 15 On the following day the young hus- band kissed his bride good-by and with his brother Sam rode off to join their comrades of the Old Infantry encamped in sleet and snow at the rapids of the Maumee. Crossing swollen, icebound streams and struggling through snowdrifts, the two brothers arrived at Fort Defiance just in time to join the detachment of Kentucky troops commanded by Colonel Lewis in a relief expedition against Frenchtown on the River Raisin, and they were in the thickest of that ghastly encounter with Proctor and his Indians. 16 The red and blue uniforms of Captain Hart's Lexington boys were conspicuous targets for savage rifles, and when the massacre was over, Captain Hart and half of his company lay dead and tomahawked in the snow. 17 Sam Todd and another brother John were both wounded and captured. 18 John ran the gaunt- let and escaped, but Sam was adopted into a tribe and remained captive for more than a year before he was ransomed for a barrel of whisky. Robert S. Todd went through the horrible experience un- scathed. Before the year of 1813 was over, he returned to Lex- ington, where he and his young wife went to housekeeping in a comfortable dwelling which he erected on a lot belonging to the Parker estate, adjoining his mother-in-law on Short Street. 19 FOUR The Little Trader from Hickman Creek On AN early autumn day in 1801 Samuel Offutt of Fred- erick County, Maryland, drove his yoke of oxen, hitched to a sturdy wagon with solid wooden wheels, over the Wilderness Road into the Bluegrass region of Kentucky. With him were his wife Elizabeth, his sons, Tilghman, Otho, Resin, Samuel, and Denton, and his two daughters, Eleanor and Arah. Two more sons, Azra and Zedekiah, and a daughter, Sarah, would be born in the Western Country. 1 The Offutts of Frederick and Prince George counties, Mary- land, had been people of means and prominence since early colonial days. Samuel's great-great-grandfather, William Offutt, had owned large plantations in Prince George County, includ- ing "Clewerwell," "Neighborhood," "Gleaning," and "Calver- ton Ridge." Before leaving Maryland, Samuel had disposed of a considerable estate willed him by his father, William Offutt the Third. Shortly after his arrival in Kentucky, Samuel acquired a large tract of rolling, fertile land eight miles southeast of Lex- ington on the waters of Hickman Creek. Here he erected a comfortable two-story residence of hewn logs with an elaborate THE LITTLE TRADER FROM HICKMAN CREEK 31 hand-carved double front doorway of wild cherry. The house was weatherboarded, with a wide wing on the side nearest the creek and a long ell in the rear. Samuel furnished his new home with many heirlooms which he had brought with him over the Wilderness Road on his several trips from Maryland to Kentucky— four-posters, a tall mahogany grandfather clock, Windsor chairs, tables, chests, cup- boards, mirrors, sideboards, gold-edged chinaware, coin silver forks, spoons and ladles, an elegant tea service, Irish linens, and all sorts of cooking utensils. 2 For many generations the Offutt family had been breeders of fine horses, and it was not long before Samuel had one of the best stock farms in the Bluegrass. In addition to horses he raised mules, sheep, cattle, and hogs, sending large cargoes of livestock each year down the Ohio and Mississippi to Natchez and New Orleans. He owned slaves and occasionally hired out his surplus labor, but there is no record of any sale of his Negroes. 3 He also had money to loan, and if debtors who could pay refused to do so, he sued them with an alacrity which induced one hapless defendant to denounce him, but without avail, as "a gripping, mercenary character." 4 Offutt was a man whose education was above the average in central Kentucky. He wrote a good hand, kept his accounts neatly, figured accurately. A firm advocate of schools, he built a schoolhouse on his own land fronting the Tates Creek Pike for the benefit of his own children and those of other families of the neighborhood. At this time his son Tilghman had married and now lived in Logan County, Kentucky, and his daughters, Eleanor and Arah, also had found husbands and had moved to homes of their own. The other Offutt boys— Otho, Resin, Samuel, Den- ton, and, later, Azra— attended school— all of them regularly except Denton. Intelligent, industrious, imaginative, ambi- tious, Denton was almost from infancy a typical ''young man in a hurry." For him "book learning" was indeed a waste of time. He intended to go into business— to make money— to be rich some day. Some of the outstanding citizens in Lexing- 32 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS ton who had reached the pinnacle of success in trade and finance could hardly read or write! Even in law and states- manship, look at Mr. Clay who had received but little formal education! In winter young Denton, besides running his own trap lines, hung around Chrisman's mill, especially in January when "hides" were "prime," buying mink and otter skins from other farm boys in the community. In spring and summer he helped his father prepare livestock for market. Even in early youth his amazing influence over animals was a subject of wide com- ment. He could handle with the greatest ease— quietly and gently— the wildest horse or the most obstinate mule. Yet for all his scorn of schooling Denton was a worshiper of brains, and his hero was his younger brother Azra, who loved books, became a student at Transylvania, and graduated from its famous College of Medicine in the class of 1826. He boasted about Azra. Nobody had ever read so fine a piece as his thesis: "The Trephining in Injuries of the Head." 5 Azra, declared Denton, would some day be the greatest physician and surgeon in the United States! Brother Tilghman's horse breeding, training, and general livestock business prospered greatly in Logan County. By the early twenties he was far on his way to what he actually be- came a few years later— the largest taxpayer in that part of the state. Every spring he came to the Bluegrass and bought fine brood mares to breed to his stallions, especially his great trot- ting sire "Hamiltonian." 6 In October of each year Denton and Tilghman's son Joe— said to have been the very "spit and image," both physically and temperamentally, of his uncle- drove large herds of stock overland to Natchez. In March they took them by flatboat down the flooded waters of Green River to the Ohio and thence to New Orleans. On January 25, 1827, Samuel Offutt died. "Aged 76 years, and an inhabitant of this state for the last 26 years," said the Lexington Reporter. 7 By the terms of his will he left to his wife Elizabeth his plantation and its equipment and all house- THE LITTLE TRADER FROM HICKMAN CREEK 33 hold goods for life, all of his slaves not specifically devised to others, and her choice of "four head of horses, four head of cows, twenty head of hogs and twenty head of sheep" from his stock on hand. The testator bequeathed to Resin "one negro man named Harry," to Azra "one negro man named Charles," to Denton "one negro man named George," to Arah "one negro girl named Mary." For the support and education of his grandson, William Offutt Thompson, he bequeathed a "negro girl named Caroline & also a negro boy named Gabriel." The residue of his property he left in equal shares to Otho, Tilghman, Samuel, Resin, Azra, Denton, and Arah. 8 Several years previously Resin Offutt had set out with a party of adventurous Lexingtonians for the Missouri frontier. Glowing reports had come back of his quick success in trading in furs and horses with the Indians along the Platte River and in shipping cargoes down the river to St. Louis. It is quite evident from the local records that after the death of his father, Denton also determined to seek his fortune in the trading business which was making Resin rich in the West. On January 19, 1829, Denton sold his one-seventh interest in the home place to his brother Samuel and also disposed of his Negro George, and all other personalty which he had re- ceived under the will of his father. By the fall of 1829 9 he had converted all available resources into cash, which probably amounted to as much as $2,000, and was ready to seek fame and fortune in a new country. But he left the old home on Hickman Creek with a heavy heart. Having acquired all the interest of the other heirs in his father's plantation, Dr. Azra had married lovely Antoinette Caroline Hale and with his bride moved there to live with his mother. That summer cholera broke out in the neighborhood, and on July 19, 1829, Antoinette, to the great distress of Azra and Denton, had been suddenly stricken with it and had died within a few hours. 10 It is not known just when Denton Offutt arrived in Illinois, nor, indeed, why he went there at all, but he was first heard 34 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS from one day in February, 1831, when he stopped at the house of John Hanks in Macon County, near Decatur. It is possible that Offutt had heard of Hanks on some of his river trips with nephew Joe. In any event, he informed Hanks that he under- stood he had been "quite a flat boatman in Kentucky," and, said Hanks, "he wanted me to run a flat boat for him." 11 Hanks was willing to undertake the job and suggested as another member of the crew his young cousin, Abraham Lincoln, re- cently arrived in Illinois, who also had had flatboat experience while living in Indiana. "I hunted up Abe," said Hanks, "and introduced him and John D. Johnston, his step-brother, to Offutt. After some talk, we made an engagement with Offutt at 50c a day and $60.00 to make a trip to New Orleans." 12 Offutt is described by those who saw him about that time as "a short, rather stockily built man, of good natured, amiable disposition, free handed and of great sociability— a trader and speculator who always had his eyes open to the main chance." 13 Thus it happened that about the middle of March, 1831, Hanks and Lincoln paddled down the Sangamon River in a canoe to Judy's Ferry, where they met Johnston. Together they walked the five miles into Springfield, where they found their convivial employer entertaining friends at the Buckhorn, the town's leading tavern. Having been unable to rent a flatboat, Offutt hired them to cut timber on government land and float the logs down the river to Fitzpatrick's mill, where lumber could be sawed to build a craft, eighty feet long and eighteen feet wide. Camp- ing in a "shanty shed," which they had hastily put up, the three men ate Lincoln's cooking, except for the few times when they were invited to the nearby cabin of Caleb Carman. Look- ing at the tall, gangling youth clad in a short, blue jean coat, trousers that exposed more than eighteen inches of sharp shin- bone, a broad-brimmed hat of buckeye splints perched jauntily on the back of his unruly shock of heavy black hair, Carman THE LITTLE TRADER FROM HICKMAN CREEK 35 thought he was a "Green horn," though "after a half hour's conversation with him, I found him no Green horn." 14 Books being unavailable, Lincoln participated in the game of seven-up, played of evenings with Hanks and Johnston and others who visited the camp, handling his cards with excep- tional skill and entertaining everybody with his droll humor and funny stories. 15 Finally after about six weeks the boat was finished and loaded with barrel pork, corn, and live hogs. Slowly it swung out from the marshy river bank— Skipper Offutt on deck, watching with growing admiration the stalwart, sin- ewy Lincoln as with mighty sweeps of the huge steering oar he maneuvered the clumsy craft into the current of the muddy Sangamon. Skipper and crew had proceeded, however, only a few miles when serious trouble overtook them. At a little settlement called New Salem flood waters had receded so that the boat stuck on the milldam and hung there part way over for a day and a night. Most of the cargo, including the hogs, was trans- ferred to another boat. Lincoln then quickly solved what the watching villagers declared to be an insurmountable difficulty by borrowing a large auger and boring holes in the end of the vessel that projected over the dam. When the water that had leaked in ran out, the holes were plugged, barrels of pork pushed forward, and the boat then lurched over the dam with a resounding splash. Profoundly impressed by this exhibition of his new boathand's ingenuity, glowing with admiration at this fresh evidence of Lincoln's talents, Offutt declared to the crowd on the bank that he intended to build a steamboat especially to meet the obstacles of the Sangamon. She would have rollers for shoals and dams, runners for snow and ice, and with Lincoln as her captain "by thunder she'll have to go!" 16 Down the river the boatmen went without further mishap into the broader, deeper Illinois, past Beardstown, where peo- ple on the shore laughed at the strange-looking craft with sails 3(5 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS of plank and cloth and its grunting, squealing freight, out upon the wide Mississippi, past St. Louis, where John Hanks left them, past Cairo, tying up for a day at Memphis, with brief stops at Vicksburg and Natchez. 17 Then in early May, Offutt and his weather-beaten little crew poled into the busy harbor of New Orleans, where they would remain for a month while the owner leisurely and profitably disposed of his cargo. One morning, strolling about town, taking in the sights, the men from Illinois came upon a slave auction. A handsome, light mulatto girl stood on the block, while prospective bidders pinched her flesh and otherwise satisfied themselves that the merchandise offered was of the quality proclaimed. For a few minutes they silently watched the revolting scene. Then Lin- coln turned away. "By God, boys, let's get away from this," he exclaimed in horror. 18 In June, Offutt and his party boarded a steamboat for St. Louis. By this time a strong attachment existed between Lin- coln and his employer. The voluble, energetic, optimistic little Lexingtonian seemed widely traveled, as he talked of Baltimore, Washington, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, and the river towns of the Mississippi. Moreover, Offutt was a devoted fol- lower of Henry Clay, whom Lincoln had so much admired since he first began to read about him in the Louisville Journal at Gentryville. Offutt could not remember when he did not know, at least by sight, "Gallant Harry"; and his personal acquaintance with the great man, his oratorical ability and political triumphs, lost nothing in the telling. Lincoln had completely charmed the little trader. He was in Offutt's opinion the shrewdest, best-read, most resourceful young man he had ever met. In fact, he was as smart and already knew as much about books as brother Azra, which from Denton was a very high compliment indeed. Fun loving, good humored, honest, Lincoln seemed to have all the qualities for a successful merchant, and before the boat arrived at St. Louis, Offutt had employed him to run a store which he in- tended to open at New Salem just as soon as goods could be THE LITTLE TRADER FROM HICKMAN CREEK 37 bought and delivered. Offutt got off the packet at St. Louis, where he was to purchase the merchandise and arrange for shipping and hauling it, while Lincoln started on foot for home, 120 miles away. Thomas Lincoln then lived at Buck Grove in Coles County, and Lincoln stayed there with his father for several weeks until it was time to meet his employer. It was late in July, 1831, when Abraham Lincoln trudged to New Salem. Offutt had not arrived, and Lincoln did not know the reason until later. His mother had died on February 21. Having been notified that his presence was needed in the settlement and division of her estate, he had made a brief trip back to Kentucky. 19 Embarking on his new venture with Lin- coln, he could use his share just now to excellent advantage. He was distressed, however, to find brother Azra still utterly disconsolate over the loss of his lovely Antoinette, dead now two years that month. The doctor could not forget that at the time his wife became ill he was attending several patients suf- fering from the same malady from which she had died, and he had developed a fixation that he had "brought it home to her." Neglecting his practice, avoiding friends, he would sit for hours at the foot of her grave under the old trees in the orchard at the back of the house. But beckoning fortune in young, virile, but somnolent Illinois visualized through the rose-tinted glasses of his incor- rigible optimism— Offutt, the Merchant Prince of the Sanga- mon, who would awaken this backwoods giant to a realization of his strength and potentialities— made it impossible to dwell at length even upon family afflictions. Selling his share of his mother's estate to Otho, he hurried back to keep his commit- ments with the waiting Lincoln. The store opened about September 1, 1831, in a log cabin at the edge of the bluff above the village mill. 20 It was a typical frontier establishment, with dry goods and whisky— liquor in quantity, but not by the drink— as much a part of the store as coffee, tea, sugar, molasses, tobacco, and gunpowder. 21 In a short time the proprietor found his faith in his young clerk 38 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS so fully justified that he rented the mill from Rutledge and Cameron and put Lincoln, with "Slicky" Bill Greene as his assistant, in charge of the "whole shebang." 22 Several times each day Lincoln's long legs carried him quickly from store to mill and back to store again. Meanwhile, the little trader from Hickman Creek was also busy. On his Kentucky saddle horse he rode across the prairies and through the Sangamon bottoms, urging the production of bigger and better crops. Improvement in river transporta- tion afforded an easy, natural outlet. He would prove the Sangamon navigable except, possibly, at the lowest ebb in summer. He would buy all the grain and pork the farmers of the region could raise, process what was needed for their family use at his mill, settle their accounts at his store with part of it, and sell the excess in New Orleans. These were to be first links in a chain of integrated enterprises which event- ually would make every participant a man of fortune. Lincoln found little in frontier life that he had not known before in Indiana. Religion was demonstrative and the use of ardent spirits widely prevalent. Community intercourse was centered about the familiar camp meetings, log rollings, house raisings, and trading excursions to the village on Satur- day afternoons. But the devilry of the Clary's Grove boys added a spice and zest to New Salem atmosphere that Gentryville never had. Wild, reckless, impulsive, yet warmhearted, honest, and truth- ful—physical courage and strength their ideals of perfect man- hood—these young rowdies, largely descendants of Kentuckians who had brought their racing stock and game chickens to the frontier country, were equally ready for fight or frolic. 23 Hos- tile to strangers whose "nerve" was yet untested, they stood aloof from Lincoln until one sunny afternoon, under the giant oak near Offutt's store, when droll, whimsical destiny sum- moned him by boastful proclamation of the infatuated little merchant from the Bluegrass. Lincoln had grown steadily in the exalted esteem of his THE LITTLE TRADER FROM HICKMAN CREEK 39 employer— both as to physical and mental endowments. In New Salem and up and down the Sangamon valley Offutt extravagantly praised Lincoln's skill as a businessman and his amazing intellectual attainments, proclaimed him to be "the smartest man in the United States," and declared that he could "outrun, outjump, whip or throw down" any man in Sangamon County. 24 So it happened that on this particular Saturday afternoon Offutt strutted back and forth in front of his store hailing passers-by with wide sweeps of an arm and a fist full of silver, offering to bet ten dollars on the manly prowess of his protege. Lincoln was inside the store when it started, but as soon as he heard of it he hurried out and tried to stop his overen- thusiastic employer, saying emphatically that he had no desire whatever to engage in any contest of this nature. It was too late, however, because Bill Clary had run out of his saloon next door, accepted the challenge, and named Jack Armstrong, leader of the Clary's Grove boys, as Lincoln's opponent. Arm- strong was a big-boned, square-built man of medium height, "strong as an ox," weighing over two hundred pounds, a vet- eran in frontier "kick, bite and gouge" combat, who had thrown or whipped every man who had wrestled or fought him. 25 Lincoln weighed one hundred eighty-five pounds, was six feet four inches tall, cool, self-possessed, deceptively agile, and quick on his large feet. Everybody in the village seemed to get word of the im- pending battle at the same time, and all turned out to witness what promised to be a thrilling example of the age-old contest between the lion and the panther. Whooping and "hollering," the Clary's Grove boys formed a circle, offering to wager knives, cash, trinkets, and whisky on their Jack but finding few takers except Offutt, who loudly continued to predict victory for his incomparable clerk, backing him to the limit of his available resources. The two men, stripped to the waist, crouched, eyed each other, sidled cautiously, clenched, broke, grappled again, tug- 40 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS ging, twisting. Armstrong felt the tremendous strength of long, sinewy, rail-mauling arms; Lincoln staggered under the impact of powerful shoulders. Armstrong craftily tried his famous "hip lock," then the devastating "grape vine trip," but to no avail. All the tricks known to the backwoods "rassle" left both men on their feet, but Armstrong finally felt himself fading under the furious pace. Struggling finally to break a headlock, furious with pain and frustration, he now resorted to a maneuver which except in dire extremity he would have scorned. Lunging forward, he stomped the instep of Lincoln's foot with his boot heel, hoping that surprise, if not actual injury, would break the crushing hold that held his head viselike against his adversary's lean, hard body. But the foul backfired most disastrously for Armstrong. Infuriated at such tactics, before Jack could recover his balance Lincoln in a supreme effort lifted him high in the air and with a mighty heave flung him over his head. Hitting the ground flat on his back, Jack lay there shocked and stunned by the heavy fall. At this moment the Clary's Grove boys, snarling "Kentucky and Irish curses," rushed forward to avenge their dethroned champion; but the defiant Lincoln, with his back against the store wall, dared them to tackle him one at a time and shouted his willingness to fight them all. Just then the vanquished Armstrong, who had a prodigious admiration for courage and brawn, rushed through the milling crowd and grasped Lin- coln's hand. "He's the best feller that ever broke into this settlement," he declared. 26 Biographers agree that it would be almost impossible to overestimate the importance of this episode in its effect upon Lincoln's later life. In a single hour this penniless and almost friendless youth had acquired an ever-expanding group of stanch, fiercely loyal admirers who would serve him well in the near future and later, as he started upon that amazing political career which would end so tragically in smoke and flags and martyrdom. 27 Offutt, of course, was almost beside himself with pride at THE LITTLE TRADER FROM HICKMAN CREEK 41 the adulation now being showered on his protege and the inflation of his own self-esteem. He bragged more than ever and let no one forget that recent events had fully verified his most extravagant predictions. But his unclouded happiness was not long to be enjoyed. The November 2, 1831, issue of the Kentucky Reporter contained a poignant news item: "On Thursday morning last, Dr. Azra Offutt of Jessamine County put an end to his existence by hanging himself with a rope. He was a very industrious, sober, moral citizen in good cir- cumstances and in the prime of life." The brokenhearted Azra had gone to join his beloved Antoinette under the old trees in the orchard. Denton had lost the man who held first place in his affections, whose intellectual attainments he had ad- mired most until he met Lincoln. The Reporter of December 6 advertised the "Public Sale of the Personal Estate of Dr. Azra Offutt, dec'd."— his Negroes, his horses, cattle, mules and other livestock, his library, in- cluding "a handsome assortment of medical books." A post- script to the notice added, "All those who borrowed books belonging to the library of Dr. Offutt are requested to return them before the hour of sale." Strange as it may now seem, it was Lincoln's ability to read books that astounded so many of his devoted friends. That he could write, too, was almost beyond the bounds of concep- tion. But to Offutt and the few other citizens of New Salem who had known men of intellect, it was the directness and precision of Lincoln's mental processes and his passion for bare facts that impressed them more than anything else. Har- vey Ross, the mail carrier, observed this on one occasion and remembered it in old age. He wanted to buy a pair of buck- skin gloves and asked Lincoln if he had any that would fit him. "There's a pair of dogskin gloves that I think will fit you," said Lincoln, throwing them on the counter, "and you can have them for seventy- five cents." Ross was surprised to hear them called "dogskin." He knew 42 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS that the women of the neighborhood made all the gloves that were worn in that part of the country from deerskins tanned by the Indians, and that a large, dressed buckskin could be bought for fifty or seventy-five cents. "How do you know they are dogskin gloves?" inquired the mail carrier. "Well, Sir," replied Lincoln, who, as Ross thought, was somewhat "rasped" that his word should be questioned, "I'll tell you how I know they are dogskin gloves. Jack Clary's dog killed Tom Watkins' sheep and Tom Watkins' boy killed the dog and old John Mounts tanned the dogskin and Sally Speers made the gloves and that is how I know they are dogskin gloves." "So, I asked no more questions about the gloves," said Ross, "but paid the six bits and took them . . . and never found a pair that did me the service that those did." 28 With the passage of time it became increasingly evident that Lincoln was indeed the popular hero of New Salem and especially of the Clary's Grove boys. He was their representa- tive in all kinds of physical contests with champions from Richland, Indian Point, Sand Ridge, Sugar Grove, and other neighborhoods— running, jumping, lifting, wrestling. "He could throw down any man that took hold of him," said J. Rowan Herndon. "He could outrun, outjump, outbox the best of them." And Herndon added, "He could beat any of them on anecdote." 29 "I have seen him," said Robert B. Rutledge, "frequently take a barrel of whiskey by the chimes and lift it up to his face as if to drink out of the bung-hole, but, I never saw him taste or drink any kind of spirituous liquor." 30 Though Lincoln never drank or brawled nor even used tobacco, he never rebuked his roistering companions, nor did he attempt to reform them in any way except, perchance, by force of personal example. Sometimes when he was stretched out reading on the counter, his head propped up with bolts of cotton or calico, a drunken fight would start in the village > « / ■^ Receipts signed by Lincoln for Denton Offutt Facsimiles owned by the author The Rutledge mill {above) and Denton Oi flit's store at New Salem, rebuilt on the original sites. Herbert Georg Studios, Springfield, Illinois m # v I THE LITTLE TRADER FROM HICKMAN CREEK 43 street. Lincoln would run out and try to stop it without actual intervention. Failing in this, he would "pitch in," grab the aggressor by the "nap of the neck and seat of the britches," and toss him "ten or twelve feet easily." This, an eyewitness dryly observed, "usually ended the fuss," and Lincoln would quietly return to his book. 31 So great was Lincoln's reputation for honesty and fair deal- ing that he was often chosen judge for cock fights, wrestling matches, gander pullings, foot races, and, indeed, as umpire in the settlement of disputes in other matters, and his decisions were accepted without a murmur. Bap McNabb had a little red rooster and constantly boasted about his fierce prowess in the pit. One afternoon Lincoln refereed a match fight between Bap's fowl and an old ring-wise, battle-scarred cock of terrifying appearance. McNabb with a contemptuous and confident gesture tossed his bird into the pit. Instantly his feathered adversary leaped into the air and with ruffed hackles bore down upon him. The little red rooster with a terrified squawk turned tail, hopped out of the ring, and took to the bushes! Sadly paying his wager, the chagrined McNabb silently car- ried his chicken home and threw him down in the barn lot. The little red rooster, now completely out of danger, flew up on the woodpile, strutted proudly back and forth, flapped his wings, and crowed with the most arrogant defiance. Bap looked at him a moment. "Yes, you little cuss," he exclaimed in utter disgust, "you're great on dress parade but not worth a damn in a fight!" 32 Some thirty years later, General McClellan was reviewing a division of infantry on the Potomac Flats, just below the White House. Regimental bands were playing, flags flying, the ranks— splendidly uniformed— stood stiffly at attention as "Lit- tle Mac" galloped by on his magnificent black stallion. For months the general had stubbornly resisted all efforts to induce him to move forward against the enemy. From his office win- dow the President watched the martial scene. Then he turned II LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS back to his desk. "Gen. McClellan," he said with a rueful smile, "reminds me of Bap McNabb's rooster." 33 In the spring of 1832 Lincoln's employer realized that his New Salem days were numbered. All his hopes and schemes had been built upon his implicit confidence that the Sangamon River was navigable. Efforts to establish that important fact had flatly failed. Furthermore, New Salem had too many stores; and his, located near the steamboat wharf that was never to be, was farthest from the center of the village, if it must rely on business from the interior. So one day Denton Offutt, disillusioned and broke, climbed into a farm wagon on the edge of the bluff. Rutledge and Cameron had taken back their mill. Offutt had turned over the store to his creditors. Tradition would say that they sued him and attached his stock of goods, but court records would deny it. He had failed in business, as thousands before him had failed and would fail again and again, but he had bilked nobody. While others had sustained losses in his commercial ventures which, perhaps, had been launched too optimistically, but always in good faith, he had suffered more than any of them, having lost every dollar of his savings and all of his in- heritance. He was glad of one thing— Lincoln was securely in position to forge ahead in the world. He had recently announced for the Illinois legislature as a Whig— a Henry Clay Whig. He was joining the military campaign against Black Hawk, and the Clary's Grove boys were sure to elect him captain of their company. Yet Offutt was sad that some of those who had once so enthusiastically proclaimed him a veritable captain of finance now spoke harshly of him, calling him, in the words of Uncle Jimmy Short, a "wild, reckless, harum scarum kind of a man." 34 Lincoln, of course, was not one of these. Indeed, it would have made Offutt happy to know what perhaps he never knew, that in future years, when Lincoln came to write his autobiographi- cal sketch, he would not fail to mention gratefully the name THE LITTLE TRADER FROM HICKMAN CREEK 45 of the man who first gave him a larger vision of life and con- fidence in himself. Slowly, the clumsy old vehicle descended the steep hill, crossed the rickety wooden bridge over Green's rocky branch, and turned, creakily, down the Sangamon valley. 35 The little trader from Hickman Creek had left New Salem forever and with it all his dreams of early fame and fortune. Yet unwit- tingly, as Abraham Lincoln's first sponsor, he had already achieved a modest but inevitable immortality. FIVE Mary Ann Todd On DECEMBER 6, 1817, two popular veterans of the War of 1812, Robert S. Todd of Captain Hart's infantry and Sergeant Bird Smith of Captain Trotter's cavalry, announced their part- nership in an "Extensive Grocery Establishment" advantageous- ly located on Cheapside. One of the firm, according to the Gazette, would attend "Foreign markets by which they will be enabled to supply their customers with every article in their line, on better terms and of better quality— indeed with any articles, such as fruits, et cetera that heretofore could not be procured." 1 For the next several years the advertisements of Smith & Todd regularly appeared in the public prints, always listing a full line of high-grade groceries and the choicest, rarest wines, spirits, brandy, gin, and whisky. Robert S. Todd was now one of the most enterprising and promising young businessmen of Lexington, deeply interested, as were his forebears, in political and civic affairs. He had been chosen clerk of the Kentucky House of Representatives with little or no opposition for two sessions, 2 and was shortly to take his seat as a member of the Fayette County Court, a MARY ANN TODD 47 position of some distinction in the community. 3 Moreover, Todd was the father of a growing family, which consisted of two daughters— Elizabeth, born November 18, 1813, and Fran- ces, born March 7, 1815— and a son, born June 25, 1817, named Levi for his grandfather. On December 13, 1818, a third daugh- ter arrived at the Short Street residence, and the newcomer was given the name of Mary Ann for Mrs. Todd's only sister. 4 Two years later another son, Robert Parker, was born, but in the middle of his second summer he died, and Nelson, the old body servant, hitched up the family barouche and, accord- ing to a quaint custom of the town, delivered at the doors of his master's friends black-bordered "funeral tickets" which read: "Yourself and family are invited to attend the funeral of Rob- ert P. Todd, infant son of Mr. R. S. Todd, from his residence on Short Street, this evening, at 5 o'clock. Lexington. July 22, 1822." 5 Little Mary Ann was delighted when a baby sister came in 1824. All the other Todd children were old enough to go to school, and during their absence time hung heavily on Mary's hands until the arrival of Ann Maria. 6 And now, with two "Anns" in the family, Mary's middle name was dropped from ordinary use to avoid confusion. Lexington celebrated the Fourth of July, 1825, with much patriotic fervor. Sunrise was ushered in by the ringing of church bells. At four a.m. Captain Pike's company of artillery cadets appeared in the streets as infantry and "after performing evolutions" marched to the lodgings of the city's holiday guest, Major General Winfield Scott, and fired a salute. Several barbecues were held in the country. At Mr. Cor- nett's Eagle Tavern, where General Scott, Captain Gale, his aide, and Henry Clay, the new secretary of state, dined, eighteen good stiff Kentucky bourbon toasts were drunk, among them being: "The Memory of Washington"; " 'The Union/ the paladium of our political safety and prosperity"; "Henry Clay, Secretary of State: The man resolved & sacred to his trust, in- flexible to ill, and obstinately just"; "Our distinguished guest, General Winfield Scott"; "The Ladies of the Western Country— 48 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS the rose is not less lovely, nor its fragrance less delightful be- cause it blossoms in the Wilderness." In the afternoon Clay and General Scott joined a large company of ladies and gen- tlemen at Captain Fowler's Garden, where there was dancing until "a late hour in the evening." 7 But in the midst of all this celebration the home of Robert S. Todd was dark and quiet, only a single lamp burning low in an upstairs bedroom. Another boy had just been born to Eliza Todd, and death was hovering near the mother. All that day Mary and the other children anxiously watched the house with its closed shutters from their Grandmother Parker's side porch across the lawn. Old Nelson trudged in and out with packages from Graves' drugstore. At bedtime the one-horse gigs of Dr. Ben Dudley and Dr. Elisha Warfield still stood in front of the door, but next morning the doctors were gone, and pillowcases hung on the clothesline in the back yard. On the following day the funeral tickets read: ' 'Yourself and fam- ily are respectfully invited to attend the funeral of Mrs. Eliza P., Consort of Robert S. Todd, Esq., from his residence on Short Street, this Evening at 4 o'clock. July 6, 1825." 8 Thus, at thirty-four years of age, Robert S. Todd was a widower with six small children, the last one, George Rogers Clark, only a few days old. Fortunately, however, he was able to keep his family intact. Ann Maria, his unmarried sister, came to live with them, and this capable young woman cheer- fully assumed the management of the household and the care of her brother's motherless children. The faithful Todd slaves, brought up in the family, made the task easier than it would have been otherwise. Jane Saunders was the housekeeper; Chaney, the cook; Nelson, the body servant and coachman, also served the dining room and did the marketing, while old "Mammy Sally" with the young nurse Judy took excellent care of the little Todds. In January, 1826, the General Assembly convened at Frank- fort, and Robert S. Todd was again chosen clerk of the lower house. It was not long before the gay social life of the capital MARY ANN TODD 49 brought him an introduction to Miss Elizabeth Humphreys, a charming, highly cultured young woman, a member of one of the oldest and most prominent Kentucky families. Two of her uncles, Preston Brown and Samuel Brown, earliest pro- fessor of medicine at Transylvania, were physicians widely known throughout the West. Another uncle, John Brown, had been Kentucky's first United States senator, while still another uncle, James Brown, brother-in-law of Mrs. Henry Clay, had represented Louisiana in the Senate, and was later minister to France. In a few months Robert S. Todd was ardently seeking the hand of pretty Betsy Humphreys, although the numerous rela- tives of his first wife did not look with favor upon the court- ship. This opposition to his remarriage was reflected in one of his letters to Miss Humphreys, who was then visiting in New Orleans: You have no doubt observed with what avidity and eagerness an occasion of this kind is seized hold of for the purpose of de- traction and to gratify personal feelings of ill-will and indeed often- times how much mischief is done without any bad motive. May I be permitted to put you on your guard against persons of this de- scription. Not that I would wish to stifle fair enquiry, for I feel in the review of my past life a consciousness that such would not materially affect me in your estimation, although there are many things which I have done and said, I would wish had never been done— and such I presume is the case of every one disposed to be honest with himself. . . . Wealth is sometimes the high road to distinction & honors, but rarely to real happiness; a competency is always necessary for our comfort $c happiness in every situation. Did I not believe that I could offer you the latter, I should never have proposed a change of the situation where you now enjoy it— and to effect that object, I have always felt it a duty which I owe to those entrusted to my care and protection, to use the necessary exertion. I am in that situation which the good old book describes as the most desirable: "Not so poor as to be compelled to beg my bread nor so rich as to forget my maker," to the latter part of my quotation, I know I have not paid that regard which my duty re- quired. 9 50 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS By late October, Robert S. Todd and Betsy Humphreys were engaged, and Todd was writing his fiancee: "I hope you will not consider me importunate in again urging upon your consideration the subject of my last letter. I am sure if you knew my situation, you would not hesitate to comply with my wishes in fixing on a day for our marriage in this or the early part of the ensuing week." 10 This was followed a few days later by another note to Miss Humphreys, which read: Lexington, Oct. 25, 1826. Dear Betsy: I received your kind letter of Monday, for which I return you my sincere acknowledgements. Availing myself of the privilege which it seems to give, I hasten to inform you that I will be down on Wednesday next, the 1st day of November. Mr. Crittenden, if unmarried, will be my only attendant. I intend to write to him by this mail. It is now late, & I bid you a pleasant good night. Be- lieve me Dear Betsy, when I subscribe myself Affectionately yours, R. S. Todd. 11 On Wednesday, November 1, 1826, Robert S. Todd and Betsy Humphreys were married at the historic old home of the bride in Frankfort. 12 Todd's best man was John J. Crit- tenden, who in spite of his youth had already been speaker of the Kentucky House of Representatives, had served his state in the United States Senate, was later to be twice attorney general of the United States, governor of Kentucky, and again senator. 13 The Widow Parker had been much opposed to the remar- riage of her son-in-law, and she never became fully reconciled to the second Mrs. Todd. The situation, therefore, which im- mediately confronted the young stepmother was not an easy one. Yet she assumed the duties of her new household with poise, tact, patience, and a deep interest in the welfare, educa- tion, and training of her six stepchildren. Mary, as Mrs. Todd soon discovered, was a sprightly, but curiously complex little MARY ANN TODD 51 creature, high-strung, headstrong, precocious, warmhearted, sympathetic, and generous— a mischievous tomboy who, while leading her older brother Levi a merry chase, was also pas- sionately fond of birds, flowers, pretty dresses, and other dainty things that delight the feminine heart. Mary was about eight years old when she entered the acad- emy of Dr. John Ward, located in a large, two-story building on the southeast corner of Market and Second streets. 14 Dr. Ward, the rector of Christ Church Episcopal, was a native of Connecticut who had been bishop of North Carolina before coming to Kentucky in search of health. Kindly, scholarly, benevolent, he was nevertheless a strict disciplinarian. Far in advance of his time, he believed in coeducation, and his school numbered about 120 boys and girls from the best families in Lexington. Early morning recitation was a peculiar regulation of Dr. Ward's academy, and during the summer months the history class assembled at five o'clock. One morning just before day- break the new nightwatchman, a recent stalwart immigrant from the Emerald Isle, observed a young lady hurrying up Second Street with a bundle under her arm. Thinking that he had discovered an elopement, the vigilant watchman gave chase, which ended only when the breathless "scholar," much to the merriment of the other pupils and the annoyance of Dr. Ward, burst into the schoolroom hotly pursued by Flan- nigan, club in hand. 15 Mary Todd's cousin, Elizabeth Humphreys, a member of the Todd household during Mary's girlhood, on September 28, 1895, wrote vivid reminiscences of Dr. Ward and Mary's early school days: His requirements and rules were very strict and woe to her who did not conform to the letter. Mary accepted the conditions cheerfully, even eagerly, and never came under his censure. Mr. Ward required his pupils to recite some of their lessons before breakfast. On bright summer mornings this was no hardship, and Mary skipped blithely to her recitations, but she never murmured LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF fLUNOIS 52 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS when conditions were not so pleasant. When she had to get up out of her warm bed and dress by candle-light, she smiled and trudged sturdily through snow and sleet. . . . Mary was far in advance over girls of her age in education. She had a retentive memory and a mind that enabled her to grasp and thoroughly understand the lessons she was required to learn. It was a hard task but long before I was through mine she had finished hers and was plying her knitting-needles. We were required to knit ten rounds of socks every evening. Her cousin further stated that "Mary even as a schoolgirl in her gingham dresses was certainly very pretty. She had clear, blue eyes, long lashes, light brown hair with a glint of bronze and a lovely complexion. Her figure was beautiful and no old master ever modeled a more perfect arm and hand." 16 But these days of early girlhood were far from a mere routine of tasks and recitations. Mary's uncle, the Reverend Robert Stuart, a professor of languages at Transylvania and a noted Presbyterian minister, lived a few miles from Lexington on the Richmond Pike, and here Mary spent many happy days: horseback rides down the shady winding lanes, picnics with the Stuart children under the majestic trees of nearby woodlands, nutting expeditions in autumn with excursions into dense thickets in search of wild grapes and the luscious papaw, hilari- ous sleigh rides in winter, with games, stories, and apple roast- ings in the evenings on the broad hearth of the giant fireplace that snapped and roared with seasoned hickory wood. 17 Mary's most intimate friends, except for her cousin, Mary Stuart, were girls slightly older than she: Mary and Margaret Wickliffe, daughters of state senator Robert Wickliffe, dis- tinguished lawyer and one of the largest and wealthiest slave- owners in Kentucky, who lived at "Glendower"; Isabella Bod- ley, daughter of Thomas Bodley, officer of the War of 1812, presidential elector, grand master of the Masonic Grand Lodge of Kentucky, who lived at "Bodley House" and had a French governess and an English head nurse for the junior members of his large family; Catherine Cordelia Trotter, daughter of MARY ANN TODD 53 General George Trotter, Jr., prominent merchant, one of the heroes of the Battle of the Thames, colonel of the old 42nd Regiment of Kentucky Militia in which Robert S. Todd had been a captain, who lived at "Woodlands"; and Mary Jane and Julia Warfield, daughters of Dr. Elisha Warfield, noted sur- geon, professor of surgery and obstetrics at Transylvania, breed- er of famous race horses, who lived at "The Meadows." Adding much to the hilarity of all parties and outings, always anxious to promote the happiness and entertainment of this group, were the idolized older brother of the Wickliffe girls— Charles, tall, handsome, volatile, auburn-haired, blue-eyed —and Catherine Cordelia Trotter's amiable brother— George, dark, tense, studious, and slight of build, equally ready for fun and frolic. The two young men, almost the same age, were inseparable companions, and one or both of them on the front seat of the family two-horse carry-all, with Mary Todd and her young friends waving gaily from the rear of the vehicle, were a familiar sight on the streets of Lexington and the broad turnpikes of its countryside. 18 Then, as suddenly as a falling star streaking across a calm, clear, evening sky, an event occurred at Frankfort which in- stantly ignited public opinion and set Bluegrass families aflame —one against another— for many a long year. A bill was introduced in the legislature to prohibit the im- portation of slaves into Kentucky. Instantly Robert Wickliffe from the floor of the Senate scathingly denounced this sur- prising move of the antislavery group. Robert J. Breckinridge and Cassius M. Clay launched a vicious counterattack. Ken- tucky's first great battle for slavery— a contest which would shake the state to its foundations— was on, and distressing events followed fast and furious. In only a few short months stark tragedy sat at the fireside of two Lexington families who were very close to the heart of Mary Todd. On March 4, 1829, Charles Wickliffe, impetuously rushing to the defense of his father, wrote an article which was 54 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS published in the Kentucky Reporter, proslavery mouthpiece, phrased in the most vitriolic language. The owners and editor of the Kentucky Gazette, chief organ of the emancipationists, "were a set of malevolent, black-hearted men." The sole reason for the existence of this vile set was to destroy the reputation of all persons who opposed their unholy schemes. "Look at your present Senator [Robert Wickliffe] whose political life has been consistent, independent and firm, always pursuing a straight course, never losing sight of the interest and honor of his country. In the Gazette of the 13ult. they have denounced him as a heartless Aristocrat and dishonorable man." Young Wickliffe scorned the "nest of vipers called Ga- zette men," and particularly the writer of the piece, as "cheap calumniators" wholly "destitute of truth." "If other epithets would be termed decorous towards the public," said he, "I would add them also." The next issue of the Gazette answered Wickliffe very much in kind, and three days later, a pistol in each hip pocket, the infuriated youth went to the newspaper office and attacked editor Thomas R. Benning, a small, unarmed man. When the newspaperman attempted to escape through a rear door, Wick- liffe shot him in the back. The killing of Benning threw the community, already excited by the agitation of the "Negro Law," into violent turmoil which became a tempest when Wickliffe was promptly acquitted by a proslavery jury. The report that the defendant had emerged from his trial "swag- gering and defiant" further fired public indignation. Shortly thereafter it was widely rumored that friends of young, scholarly George Trotter were pressing him to take Benning's place on the Gazette, its editorial page having been inactive since his death. It was being urged as a duty he owed to the memory of his deceased father, General Trotter, "one of the earliest opponents of slavery in the West." This rumor and its accuracy were confirmed when in September the Gazette was delivered to apprehensive readers with the name of George Trotter at its masthead. MARY ANN TODD 55 The dread of further conflict measurably increased when the very next issue contained an editorial which strongly in- sinuated that the acquittal of Benning's slayer had been due to a "picked and prejudiced" jury and to the "undue influence" of Henry Clay, who had delivered for two and a half hours a "harangue" in his defense. Ten days later the young editor received a note which read: Lexington, September 28, 1829. Mr. George J. Trotter: A wanton and unprovoked attack made upon my feelings in the Gazette of the 18th of the present month, induces me to de- mand that satisfaction which is due from one gentleman to another. My friend, Dr. Ritchie, is authorized to settle the several points of time, mode and place. Your obedient- Charles Wickliffe. On October 1 Trotter replied: Mr. Charles Wickliffe, Sir, your note was received on yesterday by the hands of Dr. James Ritchie and whilst I cannot recognize your right to call upon me in the manner you have, still the satisfaction you ask for shall not be denied. My friend, John Robb, is fully authorized to confer with Dr. Ritchie as to the time, place and distance. George J. Trotter. P.S. It is not expected or desired by me that Mr. Robb will act longer in the affair than the arrival of my friend. G.J.T. Under the code duello now being so punctiliously observed, Trotter as the challenged party had the privilege of choosing the weapons and specifying the distance, time, and place of meeting, which he did on the following day. Lexington, October 2nd, 1829. Sir: Mr. Trotter requests me to inform you that he has selected the pistol to meet Mr. Wickliffe, the distance to be 8 feet. Mr. Trotter will meet Mr. Wickliffe on Friday morning the 9th at 9:00 o'clock a.m. on the Fayette and Scott line, to be selected by the parties. 56 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS The friend whom Mr. Trotter has selected to act in the affair (for reasons satisfactory) does not wish to be known in the affair until Wednesday morning, at which time he will hand in the preliminary arrangements. Respectfully, John H. Robb. 19 Friday, October 9, dawned cloudless, one of those glorious days of Indian summer in Kentucky. The long night had been sleepless with anxiety and foreboding for those who loved these two hotheaded scions of Bluegrass aristocracy— friends but yes- terday—now about to settle their quarrel on a so-called field of honor dictated by the barbarous code. The whole com- munity stood aghast at the mortal distance named by Trotter- only eight feet— when the customary distance was ten paces, or thirty feet! Shortly before nine o'clock several two-horse carriages on the Georgetown pike turned into a large woodland— the old duelling ground— about six and a half miles from Lexington. The principals, their surgeons, and seconds alighted. It was observed that "Mr. Trotter and Mr. Wickliffe bowed at a re- spectable distance, neither speaking." Dr. James Ritchie acting for Wickliffe and Captain Henry Johnson for Trotter marked off the distance, loaded and checked the flintlock pistols. The surgeons spread blankets on the ground a few yards away with their instruments, bandages, and medicines. The choice of position and the right to give the word were both won by Dr. Ritchie. As the parties took their positions, Captain Johnson cautioned Wickliffe to hold his pistol more perpendicularly, but Trotter curtly instructed his second to "leave the matter entirely with Mr. Wickliffe." The two men stood calmly without coats, "presenting the right side to each other, their pistols held with muzzles presented to the ground." "One— two— three— four— five," counted Ritchie slowly and distinctly. The pistols spoke together. The ball from Trotter's MARY ANN TODD 57 weapon tore through Wickliffe's trousers, grazing him slightly at the hip. Wickliffe's aim had left Trotter untouched. "I demand a second fire," said Wickliffe very sharply. "Sir, you shall have it with pleasure/' replied Trotter. Fifteen minutes later the duelists fired again— and again Wickliffe missed, while Trotter's bullet inflicted a mortal wound on Wickliffe in the lower abdomen. As the stricken man slowly "eased himself to the ground," Captain Johnson approached him and in polite obedience to the rules of the code inquired if he was satisfied. "I am, Sir," said Wickliffe. "I am -shot and unable to fire again." Furiously galloping horses hitched to a careening rockaway rushed Wickliffe back to beautiful "Glendower," but all that loving hands and medical aid could do was of no avail. Just past noon Charles Wickliffe died, another precious sacrifice on the altar of the slavocracy. 20 In 1832 Robert S. Todd purchased a new residence on Main Street just two blocks from his Short Street house. 21 The sec- ond children were coming on, and a more spacious dwelling was desirable. Two slave jails were now being operated near the Short Street property— one just across the street and the other next door with only a narrow alley intervening. One event, however, in which Mary took a delighted interest, oc- curred before she left the old home. Her oldest sister Eliza- beth was married on February 29, 1832, to Ninian W. Edwards, son of former Governor Ninian Edwards of Illinois and then a junior at Transylvania, and Elizabeth's uncle, Dr. Stuart, was officiating minister. 22 The new home on Main Street was a roomy brick house with double parlors, a wide hall in the center, and a long ell. The grounds of the rear lawn were ample for coach house, stable, and servants' quarters. The side lawn was a beautiful flower garden with a white gravel walk winding through the 58 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS clipped bluegrass to the conservatory, and through its lower edge ran a clear, gentle little stream, the Town Fork of Elkhorn Creek, where the Todd children waded and chased the min- nows that scurried across the smooth limestone bottom. At fourteen years of age Mary Todd finished the preparatory course at Dr. Ward's and was ready to enter the select boarding school of Mme. Victorie Charlotte LeClere Mentelle. Mme. Mentelle and her husband, Augustus Waldemare Mentelle, were French gentlefolk of culture and high education. Both were born in Paris: Mme. Mentelle, the only child of a French physician; M. Mentelle, the son of a professor in the National and Royal Academy, who was also "historiographer" to the king. Shortly after their marriage in 1792 the young couple had fled from the terrors of the Revolution to America, finally reaching Lexington in 1798. 23 For several years following their arrival the Mentelles taught a mixed class in French and gave lessons in dancing. 24 Then they established a boarding school for girls on a rolling tract of woodland opposite "Ashland" on the Richmond Pike, donated by Mary's cousin, Mrs. Russell, a wealthy widow of the town. 25 Mme. Mentelle was a rather large, handsome woman, an excellent dancer, a finished musician, an accomplished scholar in her native tongue, and Mary Todd undoubtedly acquired from her an intimate knowledge and a deep love of French, but the curriculum was much broader than the mere study of a single language. In fact, the chief purpose of Mme. Mentelle was to give her pupils, as she announced through the press, "a truly useful & 'Solid' English Education in all its branches." 26 However, it was French that Mary took so completely to her heart. "She never gave it up," said Elizabeth Humphreys, "but as long as I knew her continued to read the finest French authors. At different times, French gentlemen came to Lex- ington to study English and when one was fortunate enough to meet her, he was not only surprised, but delighted to find her perfect acquaintance with his language." 27 IIary Aw Todd. Em Hie Todd Helm's copy from the original daguerreotype Home of "Widow" Parker, Mary Todd's grandmother, as it looks toda \Y The confectionery of Monsieur Giron. From the Mulligan Collection Dr. Ward's Academy MARY ANN TODD 59 Mary Todd spent four happy years at the institution on the Richmond Pike. Every Monday morning the Todd car- riage, driven by Nelson, the dignified coachman, rolled down the long avenue and left Mary on the broad piazza of the low, rambling, ivy-covered structure that sheltered Mme. Mentelle's little flock. And then on Friday afternoons Nelson came for her again. It was not all study at the Mentelle school. This French gentlewoman knew the drudgery of work without play and how to maintain proper discipline without irksome restrictions. When afternoon classes were over, in warm weather the girls strolled arm in arm about the ample grounds, played games, or read to one another on the rustic benches under the fine old forest trees. Sometimes they gathered at the big sycamore near the entrance to the grounds to wave a greeting to their friend, Mr. Clay, as he drove to town for his mail. On winter evenings M. Mentelle, who wore his abundant white hair in a queue and still dressed in smallclothes, would take down his violin, and Mme. Mentelle, who "spared no pains with the graces and manners of young Ladies submitted to her care," instructed the pupils "in the latest and most fashionable Co- tillions, Round & Hop Waltzes, Hornpipes, Galopades, Mo- hawks, Spanish, Scottish, Polish, Tyrolienne dances and the beautiful Circassian Circle." "It was at Madame Mentelle's," according to cousin Elizabeth, "that she [Mary] learned to dance so gracefully. In after years, it was her favorite amuse- ment and the aristocratic society of Lexington afforded ample opportunity for the indulgence of this pastime." 28 When Mary Todd finished boarding school, her father was one of the most prominent and influential citizens in central Kentucky, and no man in the state was more highly respected or better liked than Robert S. Todd. For years he had been a member of the Fayette County Court. Upon the incorporation of the city of Lexington in 1831 he was elected to its first board of council, and on July 13, 1835, the Branch Bank of Kentucky 60 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS opened its doors, with Robert S. Todd as its first president. Under the firm name of Oldham, Todd & Company he was also engaged in the cotton manufacturing business with a large plant at Sandersville near Lexington and a wholesale store in town, supplying an extensive trade in Illinois, Indiana, Mis- souri, and Ohio. Although high in the councils of the Whig party in Ken- tucky, Todd had been for more than twenty years the almost unanimous choice of all political parties for clerk of the Ken- tucky House of Representatives. 29 Now he was urged to be- come a candidate for lieutenant governor, and his name was actually presented to the state convention at Harrodsburg, but withdrawn at Todd's insistence by his friend, Richard H. Menifee. The Todd home on West Main Street was noted for its warm hospitality. The gracious Mrs. Todd was a charming hostess, with Mary an eager, capable assistant. As was cus- tomary in the households of gentlemen of the Bluegrass, the Todd cellar was always well stocked with the finest Kentucky whisky and rare brandies, 30 and it was freely conceded among those whose opinions were respected in such matters that "not even Mr. Clay's Charles could mix a mint julep like Robert Todd's Nelson." 31 When Henry Clay, Senator Crittenden, their brilliant young protege, Richard H. Menifee, and other distinguished friends arrived at the Todd home, Nelson knew that a display of his wizardry was expected. And in a little while the old Negro, clad in his blue swallowtail with big brass buttons, would ap- pear in the library or the vine-covered house in the garden, carrying a silver tray filled with all the ingredients of his magic concoction. The making of a julep was a ritual with Nelson, always to be performed with solemn dignity in the presence of thirsty, admiring guests: Tender, fragrant mint firmly pressed with the back of a spoon against the glistening inside of a coin silver goblet; the bruised leaves gently removed and the cup half MARY ANN TODD 61 filled with cracked ice; mellow bourbon, aged in oaken staves, bubbling from a brown jigger, percolated through the sparkling cubes and slivers; granulated sugar slowly stirred into chilled limestone water to a silvery mixture as smooth as some rare Egyptian oil was poured on top of the ice; then while beads of moisture gathered on the burnished exterior of the goblet, old Nelson garnished the frosted brim with choice sprigs of mint and presented the tall cup with a courtly bow to the nearest guest. However, Clay sometimes served his own guests with wine instead of bourbon. Gustave Koerner, a young Bavarian from Belleville, Illinois, attending the Transylvania law school, and another admirer of the Sage of Ashland walked out one morn- ing to "Mr. Clay's place." "About a mile on a fine turnpike road" they "came upon a fine park in the midst of which stood a tolerably large, white mansion-house." Going up to the door they "rang the bell, and a negro servant showed us into a large, semi-oval room, richly furnished, the walls being decorated with some fine portraits in oil." What attracted young Koerner first was "a large set of silver plate, amongst which was a very large, finely-chiseled pitcher with an inscription on it, which was on a beautifully carved side-board." In a few minutes Clay came in. "A very long frock-coat made him look even taller than he was. His face was very long, and his mouth uncommonly large. He had very light blue eyes which he kept half closed when he spoke. His hair was thin and of a reddish color. There was a playful humor about his lips. His appearance upon the whole was not at first pre- possessing; but when you heard him converse, you felt you were under the influence of a great and good man." Clay politely invited his guests to sit down, and shortly thereafter a black servant came in and presented us on a silver waiter three glasses of Madeira of an excellent quality, which we emptied, bow- ing to one another. ... Of course, Mr. Clay showed that he had been living in the best society here and in Europe. He knew how 62 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS to draw people into conversation and to say something pleasant to everyone without appearing to flatter. He took snuff, which is quite uncommon here and handled his snuff box quite diplomati- cally. Seeing that our eyes had been repeatedly on the exquisite silver plate, he showed us the pitcher. The inscription on it proved that it was a present from some of the South American countries whose rights to recognition as independent states when they re- volted from Spain, he had so eloquently advocated in the halls of the Senate. 32 Shortly after his visit to Clay, Koerner wrote his fiancee: Lexington is a lively, handsome city, built on wave-like hills, surrounded by beautiful villas. The streets are nearly all lined with shade trees. No wonder the inhabitants are very proud of it! My American guide-book calls it perhaps the finest spot on the globe. Of course, I cannot subscribe to this panegyric. But, I am quite pleased with the place. It is the richest city in Kentucky and hence there is much show and luxury here. I have been in several houses and must confess that with us— in Frankfort-on-the-Main— the wealthiest people do not live as elegantly and comfortably. 33 Although Lexington by this time had fallen far behind Louisville and Cincinnati in commercial activity, she had stead- fastly maintained her position as the center of education. Such institutions as Transylvania University, Lexington Female Sem- inary, Dr. Ward's Academy, Maguire's Classical, Scientific and English School for Male and Female Students, Mme. Mentelle's Boarding-School for Girls, VanDoren's Institute for Lads and Young Gentlemen, the Protestant Boarding-School for Young Ladies, Mrs. George P. Richardson's School for Little Misses, Cabell's Dancing-School, and Mme. Blaique's Dancing-Academy were all located within the limits of the town or its environs. Lexington was also the social center of the state, and from June to September the taverns, boardinghouses, and private residences were crowded with guests from many states farther south who came to spend the summer in the Bluegrass. Thus the town had incurred the envy of her less popular neighbors, and it was believed in many quarters that the women of the MARY ANN TODD 63 Bluegrass were vain, haughty creatures who looked with dis- dain upon those not fortunate enough to have been born in or near the "Athens of the West." Yet young James Speed of Louisville, later attorney general in the cabinet of Abraham Lincoln, did not find this true of local society when he came to Lexington to enter Transylvania University. "Much better pleased in every respect than I anticipated," he wrote back home, "and especially with the ladies of Lexington. Tell my sisters of this and tell them that all they hear there of their stiffness is altogether a bugbear." 34 In 1836 Frances Todd went to live with her sister, Eliza- beth Edwards, in Springfield, Illinois, and her departure left Mary the oldest daughter at home. She was then almost eighteen years old, with a plump, graceful figure, though be- low medium height; mischievous, long-lashed blue eyes under delicately arched brows; a broad, smooth forehead, straight nose, and a rather broad expressive mouth that broke dimples in her cheeks when she smiled. 35 Brilliant, vivacious, impulsive, she possessed a charming personality marred only by a transient hauteur and, without malice, a caustic, devastating wit that could sting like a hornet. On one occasion, as Elizabeth Humphreys recalled, it was both demeanor and tongue that nearly got her into trouble. Mary found more difficulty in getting along smoothly with an Episcopalian student of Theology (a tutor in the family) than I ever knew her to have [wrote Elizabeth to Emilie Todd Helm]. The young man's manners were assuming and dictatorial and of- fensive, but we all tried to be polite. In spite of Mary's efforts to be agreeable, there was nothing but discord between them— let her do her best. With an ill-grounded and unjust suspicion that she was trying on all occasions to insult him, he waged a war without cause. It happened frequently that Mary's father would be absent on business & Aunt by reason of illness not able to come to the dining room. One morning on such an occasion Mary & I went after the bell was rung to the breakfast room. Presby came in soon. Mary 64 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS took her seat at the head of the table, the young Theologian at the foot and I on one side. Grace was said with due reverence and then we commenced with keen appetites on the feast of good things be- fore us. Among the choice delicacies, we had some remarkably fine maple syrup. Mary helped me and then offered some to Mr. Presby, with the remark that she had always understood the Yankees ate molasses with everything. It was the word "Yankees," I suppose, that raised the storm. He was greatly irritated and in a real down East nasal twang spoke with an emphasis to be remembered for all time: "Miss 'Maree' there is a point beyond which I won't and can't stand. Miss Elizabeth with one or two exceptions, has always been polite, but, Miss 'Maree' never." The whole thing was so ludicrous to Mary, she leaned back and laughed immoderately. The laugh acted like a charm, it was "oil upon the waters" and we sailed the remainder of that day on a calm sea. 36 It was a wholesome, fun-loving group of young folk that gave spice and gaiety to the staid old town during the few re- maining years that Mary made her home in Lexington. These fair young creatures were, of course, not lacking in the most handsome and eligible beaux. Gallant and romantic, most of them members of one of the four local military companies, accomplished in the exercises of the broadsword and the rapier, expert marksmen with both pistol and rifle— still the young men of Mary's acquaintance seem not to have attracted her, and there is not even a tradition that her heart ever gave the faintest little flutter in the presence of any of these scions of the old, aristocratic Bluegrass families. "She accepted their attentions," says Elizabeth, "but at times her face indicated lack of interest." The ballrooms of Mathurin Giron offered Mary an oppor- tunity to indulge in her favorite amusement. It was the most fashionable of resorts for such entertainment in Kentucky. 37 Giron, a unique character of the town, had his famous estab- lishment on Mill Street in a quaint, two-story brick building with Tuscan pilasters which supported a balcony of iron lace along the front of the upper story. A confectionery occupied MARY ANN TODD 65 the first floor, where Giron's Swiss cook, Dominique Ritter, produced from the mysterious depths of his ovens marvelous creations in pastry, ripe fruitcakes, tall pyramids of meringues, and macaroons draped in filmy, snow-white sugar webbing. Here was made the mammoth "casellated" cake with the Stars and Stripes gloriously etched upon its sloping sides in red, white, and blue, which the citizens of Lexington presented to Marquis de Lafayette on his visit to Kentucky in 1825. On the second floor, separated by a wide hall, were the ballrooms with great paneled folding doors of polished cherry opening to the high frescoed ceiling. In each room were vast fireplaces with mantlepieces of the same exquisite wood supported by graceful columns. 38 Little Giron, fastidiously dressed, hardly more than five feet in height, and almost as broad as he was tall, with his round, smoothly shaved face, and his cordial, kindly manner had been Mary Todd's friend since her childhood. The con- fectionery was just around the corner from her father's store and only a short distance from Dr. Ward's academy. The Frenchman had been attracted by the little girl's perfect ease of manner and utter lack of self-consciousness in the presence of adults, and amused by her quite obvious gift of sparkling repartee. Mary would frequently drop in on her way home from school or as she went to and from the store on Main Street, and many were the spiced buns and hot ginger cakes that he had slipped into her lunch basket in the course of their conversations. 39 Mary, now grown to womanhood, still occupied a niche all her own in the large heart of Mathurin Giron. Their mutual love for the Gallic language was in itself an enduring bond be- tween them. At the brilliant suppers and balls that she at- tended, Giron hovered about Mary and her friends, voicing solicitude for their comfort and pleasure in his soft, piquant, broken English, and when she addressed him in his native tongue, his dark eyes glowed with ecstasy. 40 66 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS In the summer of 1837 Mary Todd went to visit her sisters, Elizabeth and Frances, in Illinois. She had other relatives there also: an uncle, Dr. John Todd, and her three lawyer cousins: John T. Stuart, John J. Hardin, and Stephen T. Logan. The visitor from the Bluegrass had not been long in Springfield when she began to hear about Stuart's new law partner. His name was Abraham Lincoln. Both Stuart and Hardin had served with him in the Black Hawk War. He and her brother-in-law, Ninian W. Edwards, had been members of the celebrated "Long Nine," who averaged more than six feet in height, from Sangamon County in the General Assembly at Vandalia. Lincoln, she learned, was a newcomer in Springfield from a village on the Sangamon River called New Salem and had only recently been admitted to the bar. According to his friends he was a man of strange contradictions: fond of the society of women, but shy in their presence; subject to fits of depres- sion, yet a storyteller whose humor was irresistible; a shrewd, wily politician, but a man of rugged honesty and unswerving integrity; ungainly in personal appearance, though possessed of a simple, natural grace of manner, with a face homely to a marked degree in repose, but singularly charming when ani- mated; a man who would fritter away hours in veritable non- sense with shallow, sometimes tipsy companions, yet a profound, logical thinker, a persuasive stump speaker, a dangerous ad- versary in rough and tumble debate. Mary Todd's curiosity must have been piqued at these queer descriptions of a most unusual man, but she did not meet him once during her three- month visit in Springfield. Her time was quite fully occupied with balls, levees, and receptions given in her honor by rela- tives and friends, and the weeks passed swiftly. As for Lincoln, he was then passing through the loneliest period of his life. Except for a few political acquaintances and one or two warm friends, he was almost a penniless stranger in the bustling capital of that new, growing country. But even so, he was not by any means idle. Besides a droll, halfhearted MARY ANN TODD 67 courtship with portly Mary Owens, he was also deeply absorbed in his first important lawsuit— a bitter altercation with General James Adams, a prominent local citizen and lawyer. Lincoln boldly charged that his client, a poor widow, had been defraud- ed of a valuable tract of land by Adams, who had forged her deceased husband's name to the deed. It was largely the vigor- ous prosecution of this case that brought Lincoln shortly into prominence. 41 In late autumn, 1837, Mary Todd returned home. The relations that existed between Mary and her stepmother, par- ticularly during the years just before she went to live in Spring- field, and her reasons for leaving home have long been matters of bitter dispute. Only two sources of documentary evidence on these mooted questions from persons then in a position to know now exist. In the papers of the suit brought to settle the estate of Robert S. Todd in 1849, George Todd, Mary's youngest brother, referred to "the malignant and continued attempts on the part of his stepmother, Mrs. E. L. Todd, to poison the mind of his father towards him," and asserted that Robert S. Todd was "mortified that his last child by his first wife should be obliged, like all his first children, to abandon his house by the relentless persecution of a stepmother." 42 A letter, dated "May , '48," written by Mary Lincoln to her husband, who was then in Washington, speaks of "Ma," her stepmother, saying: "She is very obliging and accommodating, but if she thought any of us were on her hands again, I believe she would be worse than ever." 43 These grave charges against Betsy Todd by her two most volatile stepchildren, considered carefully in connection with the voluminous record of a litigation that will be discussed in subsequent chapters, though taken at face value are not without mitigation. It must be remembered that by the sum- mer of 1839 Mrs. Todd in thirteen years had borne her husband eight children. Seven were living, their ages ranging from eleven years down to an infant in arms, and the ninth child 68 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS was born two years later. Under the existing circumstances it is not surprising that the willful, impetuous temperament of Mary Todd clashed sharply now and then with the conven- tional ideas of her busy stepmother. Moreover, it is extremely probable that the attitude of Mary's grandmother, Mrs. Parker, who never quite forgave Betsy Humphreys for marrying the husband of her dead daughter, had considerable influence in fomenting such discord as there was in the Todd household. But whatever her situation may have been at home, Mary Todd's last summer in Kentucky was well occupied with the good times of Lexington's social season. From the first of June to early fall the town was filled with wealthy planters and their families who came northward to avoid the sweltering heat and the insidious malaria of the Deep South. The local newspapers left a fragmentary record of social activities during their stay in the Bluegrass, and doubtless Mary Todd had her share in all the gaiety and entertainment. So it may be safely assumed that she attended on a Septem- ber night in 1839 probably her last public function in the old home town, a "grand farewell ball" given, as stated, by "the elite of southern society who have resorted in Lexington during the past summer." The affair was "in the hands of gentlemen & their ladies from Louisiana, Texas, Mississippi, Arkansas and Alabama." The ballrooms of Mathurin Giron were never more alluring than they were that evening. The walls were painted to represent landscapes of blooming orange trees set here and there in clustering tubs. Chandeliers and sconces were lighted with innumerable wax candles, yellow and green and rose. Gentlemen in blue broadcloth coats with brass buttons, buff waistcoats, and laced ruffled shirts; ladies in white satins, with ethereal silk overdresses embroidered in fantastic figures, glided over the gleaming maple floors through the intricate, graceful mazes of the Circassian Circle to the soft strains of violin with pianoforte accompaniment. Couples with interesting things to say to each other occupied secluded benches along the iron balcony. "Rarely," said a gentleman who was present, "have MARY ANN TODD 69 we witnessed so brilliant a display of beauty and fashion as graced the occasion." A month later, on a crisp autumn morning, the Todd car- riage drove up to the trim little depot of the Lexington and Ohio Railroad at Mill and Water streets. On the narrow track of strap-iron rails spiked down to sills of stone stood the pride of the Western Country, a tiny steam locomotive called "The Nottaway." Attached to it was a single coach with seats for a dozen passengers inside and as many more on the top, which was surrounded by an iron railing. 44 Old Nelson handed "Mis' Mary's" bags and boxes to the engineer, who placed them be- side the other luggage on the woodpile at the rear of the tender. Then, with a lurch and a shrill toot of the whistle the wheezy engine started, and in a few moments the little train was rattling and swaying down Water Street and out through the brown hemp fields and somber meadows. Mary Todd had started on the long journey to her new home in Springfield. SIX Slavery in the Bluegrass AT AN assembly ball which Mary Todd attended shortly after her arrival in Springfield she met the young lawyer about whom she had heard so much on her former visit. The often told story of the desultory courtship that followed this intro- duction need not be repeated again. It is sufficient to note that on Friday evening, November 4, 1842, at the home of her sister, Mrs. Ninian W. Edwards, while the rain beat against the windows of the front parlor, Mary Todd became the wife of Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln was now the law partner of another of his wife's cousins, Stephen T. Logan. The senior member of the firm of Logan & Lincoln was one of the leaders of the Springfield bar, and he was exactly the right sort of a partner for Mr. A. Lincoln. Logan carefully prepared his cases; Lincoln was rather inclined to extemporize. Logan was a good collector and tight- fisted in money matters; Lincoln was utterly indifferent to material gain. With Logan every activity was subordinate to his profession; Lincoln's chief interest lay in the field of politics, to which the law afforded convenient access. Lincoln had been SLAVERY IN THE BLUEGRASS 71 taken into the firm because of his remarkable ability as a trial lawyer, but Judge Logan was to be disappointed if he hoped to wean the junior partner away from the dominant passion of his life. Lincoln had already served four terms in the Illinois legis- lature and at the time of his venture into matrimony was rather leisurely casting about for further political preferment. "Noth- ing new here," he wrote to a friend, "except my marrying, which to me is a matter of profound wonder." 1 He of course could not then know that whatever might be said of the event in other respects, he had acquired a life partner who would infuse his phlegmatic temperament with a persevering energy which henceforth pushed him slowly but finally to heights of achievement beyond ambition's fondest dream. 2 One is therefore not surprised to find the Springfield lawyer a few months later writing to one of his constituents: "Now if you should hear anyone say that Lincoln don't want to go to Congress, I wish you as a personal friend of mine, would tell him you have reason to believe he is mistaken. The truth is I would like to go very much." 3 Mary Todd was a born politician. Since her earliest recol- lection the home of Robert S. Todd at Lexington had been a favorite rendezvous for the Whig chieftains of Kentucky. Mary knew them all: Robertson, Combs, Morehead, Letcher, Meni- fee, Buckner, the brilliant Marshall, the wise and beloved Crittenden, and still more intimately, the incomparable Clay, Lincoln's "beau-ideal of a statesman," idol of the Whig party throughout the nation. She had heard these jurists, governors, members of Congress, ministers to foreign countries, cabinet members, senators, and candidate for President of the United States discuss various problems of statecraft, not merely in public address, but around the fireside and the julep table of her father's house, and she was familiar with the important issues of the day. 4 The one vital question that already held Lincoln's interest 72 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS was slavery, and it is no exaggeration to say that Mary Todd possessed more firsthand information on this subject than any other person with whom he had yet come in contact. On March 3, 1837, Lincoln had made his now famous declaration in the legislature at Vandalia that "Slavery is founded on both injustice and bad policy." 5 On July 23, 1841, in the case of Bailey v. Cromwell, the state supreme court had sustained his contention that the law of Illinois presumed all persons free, regardless of color. In his Washington's Birthday address Feb- ruary 22, 1842, Lincoln had invoked the day when there would not be a slave on earth. Yet, profoundly concerned as he was with this grave problem then beginning to agitate the whole country, Lincoln's knowl- edge of the Southland's "peculiar institution" was hardly more than superficial. He "saw almost nothing of slavery in his own childhood." 7 And in his eighth year he moved to Indiana, a part of the Northwest Territory, where slavery was prohibited by the Ordinance of 1787. At the time of his marriage Lincoln's personal knowledge of slavery in the South was derived almost entirely from having seen a slave sold at New Orleans in 1831 and from his visit to the Speed plantation in Kentucky ten years later. On the other hand, Mary Todd had been reared in the very heart of the largest slaveholding community in Kentucky. There, unlike the Deep South, the form of servitude was more patriarchal than otherwise. The Negro quarters, mostly of hewn logs but sometimes of brick or stone, were grouped near the mansion house. Each cabin had its "truck patch" filled with sweet po- tatoes and other succulent vegetables and several long rows of watermelons and tobacco. Stands of bees furnished golden honey for "ole Mammy's" flapjacks, while long-eared coon and possum dogs romped with pickaninnies and, often, with the white children around the cabin doors. "Missis" or "Mastah," sitting at the bedside of a sick slave, was not an uncommon sight. Nowhere did the yoke of bondage rest more lightly than on the servants in the household of Robert S. Todd. Chaney SLAVERY IN THE BLUEGRASS 73 was in undisputed control of the kitchen, pompous old Nelson ruled the stables with a high hand, and black Mammy Sally, despot of the nursery, gave orders to the little Todds which even their mother did not dare revoke. But Lincoln's wife was also familiar with the other side of the picture. In the southwest corner of the public square at Lexington stood the auction block, rickety and worn from many shuffling feet, while near the northeast corner was the whipping post of "black locust one foot in diameter, ten feet high and sunk two and a half feet in the ground." 8 A visitor to the town in those early days, witnessing the use of this in- strument of torture, observed in his journal that the public square was "occasionally the scene of a barbarous practice; for it is here that incorrigible or delinquent negroes are flogged unmercifully. I saw this punishment inflicted on two of these wretches. Their screams soon collected a numerous crowd— I could not help saying to myself, 'These cries are the knell of Kentucky liberty.' " 9 During all the years that Mary Todd lived on Main Street frequent gangs of Negroes were driven by traders over this thoroughfare en route to the slave markets of the South. The Todd residence stood close to the street, separated from it only by the width of the sidewalk. Mary from her fourteenth year watched these unhappy creatures— men, women, and children, manacled two abreast, connected by heavy iron chains that ex- tended the whole length of the line— as they plodded wearily past her door on their long march to the cotton fields of Georgia or the rice plantations of torrid Louisiana. 10 That Mary and her cousin, Elizabeth Humphreys, were much distressed by these pathetic scenes is a matter of record, and each occurrence planted the conviction more deeply in their young hearts that slavery was a monstrous wrong. 11 Oc- casionally some skulking wretch on his way to the Ohio River and freedom would creep up to the friendly back doors in Lexington for a bite of food. A mark on the fence in the alley at the rear of the Todd home indicated that "vittles" could 74 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS be had there, and many were the runaways fed by old Mammy Sally with the help of Mary and her cousin. 12 One day Mary and Elizabeth read in a New Orleans news- paper of the outrages perpetrated by a Mme. LaLaurie on her slaves. "We were horrified," said her cousin, "and talked of nothing else for days. If one such case could happen, it damned the whole institution." 13 And if Mary Todd was affected by brutality to slaves in distant Louisiana, it is not difficult to imagine the indelible impressions made upon her by similar occurrences that later took place in the vicinity of her own home. Fielding L. Turner, a wealthy retired jurist, and his wife Caroline, member of a prominent Boston family, lived only a short distance from the Todds. 14 They kept a pretentious establishment and owned probably more house servants than any other family in the city. Mrs. Turner, a large muscular woman with an ungovernable temper, frequently whipped her slaves with such violence that Judge Turner himself said: "She has been the immediate cause of the death of six of my servants by her severities." 15 Her conduct had already become a public scandal, when one day in the early spring of 1837 Mrs. Turner deliberately threw a small black boy out of a second-story win- dow onto the stone flagging of the courtyard below, injuring his spine, breaking an arm and a leg, and making him a cripple for life. The wanton cruelty of this incident intensely aroused the whole community, and in order to save his wife from threat- ened criminal prosecution, as well as for the protection of his other slaves, Judge Turner had her forcibly removed from their home to the lunatic asylum where after a confinement of several days Mrs. Turner demanded a trial on the question of her sanity. On March 31, 1837, a jury composed of Robert S. Todd and eleven other citizens was impaneled in the Fayette Circuit Court and "sworn well and truly to inquire into the state of mind of Caroline A. Turner." Before the trial began, GREAT SALE SLAVES T n.~ JANUARY 10, 1855 'HERE \H f !f Be Offered For Safe at Public AucUon st the SLAVE MARKET. CH£APSi>$ LEXINGTON. AT The SLAVES of JOHN CARTCR. E»quire. of LEWli COUNTY, K\ On Account of His Removal to Indiana, a FreaState. The Slavrt L»*ted Bek>* Wi ■ At! R*i*«d on the CARTER PLANTATION at QUICK 3 Rt'N. L««isCou*t>. Ker ...... 3 Bucks Aged from 20 to 26, Strong, Ablebodied 1 WetlCh, Sallie, Aged 42, Excellent Cook 1 Wench , Lize, Aged 23 with 6 mo. old Picinniny One Buck Aged 52, good Kennel Man ■ 7 Bucks Aged from twelve to twenty, Excellent ■I'M 1 , ( ASH a!*, »» i*r.tr mutt realize ca*h, oh in g. to h»* nmc* >t*r?**ned previous to tale by addre*nng the under* JOItX €/IRICR v Em|. !»«». € iati U»l.«t a 1 ,.» % i+ 4 |,|il>, i*«»ttttf« I** Sale of "bucks" and "wenches" on Cheapside Facsimile in the Coleman Collection Slave cabins in the Bluegrass. Coleman Collation SLAVERY IN THE BLUEGRASS 75 however, the court received information that the commissioners of the asylum, finding no evidence of mental derangement in the defendant, had already released her from custody, and the jury was thereupon discharged and the matter dropped. 16 During the early part of Mary Todd's last year in Kentucky her neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell, were tried on a charge of "atrocious brutality" to a young female slave. The indig- nation of the citizens of Lexington is apparent from the pub- licity that was given to the proceedings. Dr. Constant testified that one cold morning he saw Mrs. Maxwell severely whipping a barefooted, thinly clad Negro girl "without being particular whether she struck her in the face or not." She was bleeding profusely from cuts and lacerations on the head and body. A month or so previous the witness noticed several scars on the girl's face, and she had kept an eye tied up for a week. Another witness, passing along the street, had seen a son of the Max- wells flogging this slave with a cowhide. The girl was cringing before the blows that fell upon her frail shoulders and begged piteously for mercy, but when she turned her face toward young Maxwell, he would strike her squarely across the nose and cheeks, sometimes with the keen lash and again with the heavy butt of the whip. A medical examination at the time of the trial revealed bruises, lacerations, and the searing marks of a red-hot iron on her emaciated body. 17 However, the tragedy of the slave lay far deeper than mere mistreatment. Its dark, sinister shadow fell across the threshold of homes where the slave might even be the head of the house- hold and her children the acknowledged flesh and blood of the master. Mary Todd could not remember when she did not know Richard M. Johnson, owner of "Blue Springs," a large, fertile plantation in the adjoining county of Scott. Hero of the Battle of the Thames, widely acclaimed as the slayer of the noted Indian chief Tecumseh, senior United States senator from Ken- 76 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS tucky, "Dick" Johnson was for years a welcome visitor in the Todd home on Short Street. Even after his break with Henry Clay— although he never came to the Main Street residence and the intimacy was never as close as before— Johnson and Robert S. Todd remained good personal friends. A sturdily built man, slightly under medium height, with a shock of unruly hair prematurely gray, noticeably lame from the five wounds he had received while leading his mounted Kentuckians in the furious charge that routed Proctor's British Regulars and his savage allies, careless of dress and invariably wearing his beloved red waistcoat, "Old Tecumseh" was a prime favorite in the drawing rooms of Dolly Madison at the White House and moved in the most select circles of Capital society during his entire public life. A celebrated Washington hostess once described him as "the most tender-hearted, mild, affec- tionate and benevolent of men." 18 Colonel Johnson never married, but in early manhood he took for his mistress an attractive octoroon slave girl, Julia Chinn, one of the chattels which had come to him in the set- tlement of his father's estate. Julia was in complete charge of all the domestic concerns of "Blue Springs" and was the mother of his two handsome daughters, Imogene and Adaline, who bore such slight evidence of Negro blood that, as their tutor observed, "a stranger would not suspect them of being what they really are— the children of a colored woman." Deeply religious and like their mother members of the Great Crossings Baptist Church, they were as carefully and tenderly reared and their paternity as unconcealed as the most gently nurtured belle of the Bluegrass. Thomas Henderson, a young scholarly minister, superintendent of Choctaw Acad- emy, an Indian school established by Colonel Johnson on his Great Crossings farm, had charge of their education. "I soon discovered," he later wrote, "such uncommon apt- ness in these two girls to take learning, and so much decent, modest and unassuming conduct on their part, that my mind became much enlisted in their favor." 19 SLAVERY IN THE BLUEGRASS 77 When General Lafayette visited Kentucky in 1825, he went out of his way to pay his respects to Colonel Johnson and spent a night as his guest at "Blue Springs." A young farm boy of the neighborhood, Ebenezer Stedman, has left a brief, colorful record of all he saw on that memorable afternoon when he went with the "Imence croud of People to the Blew Spring, the Residence of Richard M. Johnson. Such a gethering of the People. He had cannon at the Spring & Commenced firing Long Before we Reached there. Evry thing that was necsary for the occasion was prepared in fine order. Johnsons Two Daughters they Played on the piano fine. They Ware Dressed as fine as money Could Dress them & to one that Did not no they ware as white as anny of the Laydes thare & thare ware a good many." 20 Of course, it was inevitable that the domestic life of Colonel Johnson should become a sordid issue in the vicious politics and gangrenous journalism of that era. On November 29, 1832, the Lexington Observer & Re- porter, chief organ of the W r hig party in the West, carried under bold headlines "marriage extraordinary," a lurid account of the recent wedding between a "white man" and the "fair and lovely" Adaline Johnson, a "mulatto girl reputed and ac- knowledged daughter of the Honorable Richard M. Johnson." "This is the second time," declared the Observer & Reporter, "that the moral feelings of that part of the people of Scott County, who possess such feelings, have been shocked and out- raged by the marriage of a mulatto daughter of Col. Johnson to a white man, if a man who will so far degrade himself, who will make himself an object of scorn and detestation to every person who has the least regard for decency, can be considered a man." Henceforth until his election as Vice-President in 1836, and so long, in fact, as Colonel Johnson held political office, the Whigs would center their fire on his octoroon mistress and his daughters. When the Trenton, New Jersey, Emporium concluded a eulogistic editorial on Johnson with the rhetorical 78 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS query: "What hand, when he dies, will be worthy to write his epitaph?" the Kentucky Tribune of Danville replied: "If he expires in his wife's gentle embrace, we will try our own hand at the epitaph— thus: 'Died in the Wool'." 21 When on one occasion the Jacksonian press reminded the Whigs that similar attacks had been made upon "the great and good Jefferson," the Louisville Journal quickly pointed out a sharp distinction. "Like other men," said editor George D. Prentice, "the author of the Declaration of Independence had his faults, but he was, at least, careful never to insult the feel- ings of the community with an ostentatious exhibition of them. He never lived in open intercourse with an 'odoriferous wench'; He never bribed 'his white fellow citizens' to 'make such beasts of themselves' before the open eyes of the whole world as to stand up in the church, grasp the sable paws of negresses and pronounce the sacred vows of wedlock." Then the indignant Prentice— who was not above a little quiet "blood pollution" himself, having been accused more than once of "disowning his own"— closed his diatribe by say- ing: "If Col. Johnson had the decency and decorum to seek to hide his ignominy from the world, we would refrain from lifting the curtain. His chief sin against society is the publicity and barefacedness of his conduct, he scorns all secrecy, all con- cealment, all disguise." 22 However, "secrecy" or "disguise" was not a part of "Old Tecumseh's" nature. Subjected to the foulest scurrility for acknowledging the paternity of "mulatto bastards," taunted and reviled because he had affection tely reared these "mongrel daughters," giving them an education "equal or superior to most females in the country"— though, as the Reverend Mr. Henderson declared, "no attempt has ever been made to im- pose them on society"— he seemed outwardly oblivious to the flood of vilification and personal abuse that swirled about his snow-thatched head. Calmly he went his way without retort or comment of any kind. But the abuse broke Adaline's heart, and when she died on the eve of her famous father's election to the second highest SLAVERY IN THE BLUEGRASS 79 office within the gift of his countrymen, Colonel Johnson sadly wrote Henderson from Washington: I thank you & all who administered to that lovely and innocent child in her final and awful hour. She was a source of inexhaustible happiness and comfort to me. She was mild and prudent. She was wise in her counsel beyond her years Sc obedient to every thought & every advice of mine. In her whole life I do not recall that she ever did an act that ever ruffled my temper. She was a firm 8c great prop to my happiness here— but she is gone where sorrow 8c sighing can never disturb her peaceful & quiet bosom. She is happy, and has left me unhappy in mourning her loss, which perhaps 1 ought not to do; knowing what a happy change she has made. 23 It was such experiences as these that made Mary Todd thoroughly familiar with every aspect of slavery. Moreover, for ten years before coming to Springfield she had lived in the very midst of bitter controversy on the subject. As we have seen in a previous chapter, Robert Wickliffe was the leader of the radical proslavery faction, while two of her father's per- sonal and political friends, Robert J. Breckinridge and Cassius M. Clay, were spokesmen for those who favored emancipation. The ashen face of poor Charlie Wickliffe— Fayette County's earliest victim of this tragic strife— would never be blotted from her memory. In the spring of 1830 a series of strong antislavery articles signed "B" appeared in the columns of the Reporter. 2 * They came from Breckinridge's brilliant pen and excited such violent discussion that two months later he was forced to withdraw as a candidate for the legislature and to retire from politics at the early age of thirty. 25 But his efforts had not been altogether in vain, for on September 6, 1831, a few slaveholders met in Lexington and formed a society pledged to the emancipation of the future offspring of slaves at the age of twenty-one. 26 This action, coming as it had from slaveholders themselves, threw the whole community into a turmoil such as had never been known before. Proslavery leaders pictured to the alarmed pop- ulace the hideous specter of a servile insurrection, while the emancipationists contended that all the furor was but a thinly 80 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS veiled attempt on the part of the slavocracy to suppress public discussion and a flimsy excuse for the infliction of a more galling discipline on the Negroes. As bitterness, suspicion, charges, and recrimination in- creased, the Lexington jails were filled with slaves indicted for various offenses: murder, rape, arson, burglary— all punishable by death. For fifteen years prior to 1831 no Negro had been executed in Fayette County, but now excited juries, swayed by the passion and prejudice of the hour, inflicted the extreme penalty with terrifying frequency. On August 13, 1831, four slaves convicted of separate offenses were hanged from the same scaffold in the yard of Megowan's jail. 27 Finally, however, out of this social travail had come the Nonimportation Act, passed by the General Assembly of Ken- tucky in 1833 after nearly five years of bloodshed. This law prohibiting slaves from being brought into the state for pur- poses of sale, 28 with severe penalties for its violation, dealt a heavy blow to the slave trade. Its passage was a signal victory for the friends of gradual emancipation. Yet at the same time it rang the death knell to peace in Kentucky for many a day on the subject of slavery. Henceforth the proslavery element, always led by Robert Wickliffe, waged unceasing warfare against what they contemptuously called the "Negro Law." Time after time, bills for its repeal would be presented to the legis- lature and sometimes passed by the Senate, only to be regularly defeated in the House. So it was that the woman who married Lincoln through her girlhood experiences in Lexington was peculiarly fitted to share in the great task which would make her husband im- mortal. She had been taught every phase of the great question, which finally came to be nearest his heart, by the very man whom her husband regarded with the most profound admira- tion. She knew what Lincoln himself probably did not then know: that frequent maltreatment and even gross brutality was an inseparable part of the institution of slavery, even where it existed in the mildest form. SEVEN Grist to the Mill jIVLANY persons who knew Abraham Lincoln intimately have borne testimony to his fondness for newspapers. One authority has gone so far as to say that they were the "most potent in- fluence that ever came into Lincoln's life in Illinois." 1 Lincoln's habit of reading newspapers had been acquired back in the early days when he kept the post office at New Salem. Patrons were often slow in calling for their mail, and the postmaster entertained himself with the Louisville Journal and other pub- lications that came to the office. After Lincoln went to Spring- field, local newspapers were available at his law office, and regularly he read others on the exchange table of his friend, Simeon Francis, editor of the Sangamo Journal. It was not, however, until his marriage to Mary Todd that Lincoln had regular access to a southern journal. The news- paper that then began coming to the Lincoln residence was the Lexington Observer & Reporter, published semiweekly in his wife's home town. 2 The politics of the Observer suited the Lincolns exactly. It was an uncompromising Whig, a stanch supporter of Henry Clay, and a friend of Robert S. Todd. 82 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Gallant Harry of the West was in the Senate of the United States, and Todd, having served more than twenty years as clerk of the Kentucky House of Representatives, was now a member of that body from Fayette County. Henry Clay had been Lincoln's idol since boyhood. 3 A biography of the Kentucky statesman was one of the few books that he had read back in Indiana. He had studied Clay's speeches 4 and was in complete accord with his views on in- ternal improvements, the tariff, slavery, and other public ques- tions of the day. Only a few weeks before his marriage Lincoln, as a member of the executive committee of the local "Clay Club," had extended an urgent invitation to the Sage of Ash- land to visit Springfield. 5 The Observer was as completely de- voted to politics as any newspaper ever printed, and Lincoln now had an opportunity to follow the most minute activities of the great Whig leader. Lincoln was also interested in the personal and political fortunes of his father-in-law. In the autumn of 1843 Todd had visited Springfield, where for the first time he met the tall, angular husband of his daughter Mary. Lincoln had found him a kindly, genial man much concerned over the welfare of his children and their families. On that occasion Todd had as- signed to his son-in-law several claims which merchants in Illi- nois owed him for cotton goods furnished them from his factory at Lexington. He had also given Mrs. Lincoln eighty acres of land near Springfield and had arranged to provide Mary and her husband cash advancements of $120 per annum, which continued until Lincoln was firmly established in his law practice. 6 Mary was fond of reading aloud, and many were the eve- nings she read the stirring events in the "home" paper while Lincoln listened soberly, his chair tipped back against the chim- ney jamb in the living room, his feet encased in huge, black vel- vet carpet slippers on the vamps of which Mary had painstaking- ly embroidered "A.L." 7 Slavery agitation was raging fiercely in Kentucky, with Lexington as the storm center. Robert Wick- GRIST TO THE MILL 83 liffe and Robert J. Breckinridge, not only opponents on the slavery question but bitter personal enemies, were engaged in a series of vitriolic debates on the Negro Law, which appeared in the columns of the Observer. The speeches of Breckinridge were being published in pamphlet form at the expense of Henry Clay, Robert S. Todd, and other friends, and widely distributed from Todd's store in Lexington. 8 Mary's husband must have enjoyed the terse, scintillating eloquence of Breckinridge, whose declaration that "the highest of all rights is the right of a man to himself" now sounds so strikingly Lincolnian. The Old Duke's son, Robert Wickliffe, Jr., was a candidate for Congress against Garret Davis, who was being warmly sup- ported by Robert S. Todd, Henry Clay and his cousin, Cassius M. Clay, and other stanch Whigs of Lexington. Young Wickliffe and "Cash" Clay had shortly before fought a duel, exchanging shots without effect, and had, as Clay said, "left the ground enemies as we came." At the beginning of his speeches Wickliffe would read a letter purporting to quote the statement of a Woodford County citizen which reflected upon his opponent, without informing his audience that the person quoted had issued a handbill in emphatic denial. On several occasions Clay, in the absence of Wickliffe's opponent, had interrupted Wickliffe and called at- tention to the unmentioned handbill. After this had happened a few times, Wickliffe sent for his relative, Samuel M. Brown, a post-office agent, who then lived or had his office in New Orleans. Brown was a fearless, quick-tempered, dangerous man of great physical strength— overbearing in politics— and reputed to have had "40 fights and never lost a battle." Following receipt of his kinsman's appeal for help, Brown was soon on the ground and in secret conference with certain members of the Wickliffe clan at the Dudley House. It was agreed that if Clay interrupted the speaking next day at a bar- becue near a large spring that emerged from a limestone cavern called Russell's Cave, Brown would lead an attack upon him with "a crowd of desperate bullies," already alerted. Armed 84 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS with a "six-barrelled" pistol, he declared as he left the lobby of the Dudley House that if Clay opened his mouth at the barbecue, he "would blow his damned brains out." Wickliffe began his speech at three o'clock. Again he re- peated the controverted statement, and again Clay, standing on the outskirts of the crowd, interrupted, citing Captain Jesse's denial. "Sir," exclaimed Brown in menacing tones, "that is not true. Capt. Jesse said no such thing." "You lie," Clay retorted. "You are a damned liar," shouted Brown, rushing Clay from the front, while a gang of "roughs" seized him from be- hind, mauling him severely. Someone struck him a heavy blow on the head with a club, numbing an arm and dazing him momentarily. "Clear the way and let me kill the damn rascal," ordered Brown. The crowd fell back. Clay found himself in an open space- Brown standing some fifteen feet away with his "six-barrelled" pistol leveled at his breast. Forced to "run or be shot," Cash chose not to run. Drawing his bowie knife, he turned his left side with his left arm cov- ering it so as to present as "thin a target" as possible and ad- vanced upon his adversary. Brown waited until his intended victim was almost within arm's reach and then fired. Distinctly feeling the "shock of the ball just under the left rib" and realizing that he could be shot five more times in quick suc- cession, Clay "closed on" Brown before he could shoot again and "cut away in good earnest" with fierce thrusts of his knife that laid his enemy's skull open to the brain, cut off an ear, and dug out an eye. In another instant the proud hero of "40 fights" was thrown over a low stone wall and rolled ignominiously down the bluff into the dark waters of Russell's Cave. 9 Clay was immediately rushed by his friends into a nearby house and stripped to the waist in search of his wounds. To their amazement it was discovered that the ball from Brown's pistol had struck the silver-lined scabbard of the bowie knife GRIST TO THE MILL 85 and, being deflected, had lodged harmlessly in the back of Clay's coat, leaving only a red spot just over the heart. 10 At the next term of the Fayette Circuit Court, Cassius M. Clay appeared in response to an indictment which charged him with assaulting Samuel M. Brown with intent to kill and "being arraigned, plead not guilty, and for his trial put himself upon God and his country." 11 The case had attracted no little ex- citement throughout Kentucky because of the connection of its participants with the slavery controversy, and the Lincolns doubtless felt more than a casual interest in the accounts of the trial which filled the columns of the Observer. Henry Clay had emerged from retirement as a criminal lawyer to defend his kinsman, who was also represented by his brother-in-law, John Speed Smith, an uncle of Joshua Speed, Lincoln's early and most intimate friend. Robert S. Todd and Deputy Sheriff Waller Rodes, Mrs. Lincoln's cousin, were witnesses for the defense. It was the theory of the prosecution that Clay and his anti- slavery Whig friends had gone to Russell's Cave with the de- liberate intention of breaking up a peaceful Democratic meet- ing. On the other hand, the defense stoutly contended that Brown, Wickliffe, Professor Cross of the Transylvania medical school, and Ben Wood, a policeman, had conspired to assas- sinate the defendant; that Clay acted solely in self-defense; and that only the prompt and vigorous use of his bowie knife had prevented the execution of the conspiracy. The weight of the evidence seemed to be with the defendant, but the jury was known to be proslavery almost to a man. The defense strove desperately to confine the testimony to the charge in the in- dictment, excluding politics and all other outside issues, but in this they were not wholly successful. It was a dramatic moment in the historic old courthouse when at the conclusion of the evidence the tall form of Henry Clay rose to address the jury. Every seat in the circuit court- room was taken. Men and women crowded the aisles and stood with craning necks out in the corridors. Old men leaned for- 86 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS ward on their canes and cupped tremulous fingers about their ears to catch once more the sonorous cadences of that familiar voice. It had been forty-five years since "the Mill Boy of the Slashes," a stranger just arrived from Virginia, without even a friend to introduce him to the court, had been sworn in "upon his own motion" as a member of the Lexington bar. 12 From that day Clay had lost few criminal cases, though it was now freely predicted by those who knew the popular feeling against his client that the twelve men in the jury box would never return a verdict in favor of the defendant. But the old gladiator seemed fully equal to the occasion as he calmly buttoned his long frock coat across his breast and began to speak to the jury in an easy conversational tone. The editor of the Observer noted that " 'age had not withered nor custom staled the infinite variety of his genius;' there was a fire in his eye, elation in his countenance, a buoyancy in his whole action that bespoke the most complete confidence in the outcome of the trial." For more than two hours Clay addressed the jury with all the persuasive eloquence of his long experi- ence as an advocate. "Standing, as he did, without aiders or abettors, and without popular sympathy, with the fatal pistol of conspired murderers pointed at his heart, would you have had him meanly and cowardly fly?" he asked at the close in thundering tones. "Or would you have had him do just what he did do— there stand in defense or there fall?" And then, rising to his full height and turning partly toward the de- fendant, with the most pathetic voice, broken but emphatic, he exclaimed: "And, if he had not, he would not have been worthy of the name he bears!" 13 After Mr. Robertson, the prosecutor, had made the closing appeal for the commonwealth, the jury retired, deliberated an hour, and then filed slowly back through the waiting throng to the jury box. Judge Richard A. Buckner peered over his spectacles at the twelve men in front of the bench. "Have you reached a verdict, gentlemen?" he asked, as he sternly rapped for order. GRIST TO THE MILL 87 "We have, your Honor," replied Foreman Sam Patterson, holding up a folded slip of paper which the sheriff handed to the clerk. "We the jury find the defendant not guilty," read the clerk. There was a moment's silence, then scattering applause, quickly drowned by hisses, muttered threats, shuffling feet, and the sharp voice of Judge Buckner ordering the sheriff to "empty the courtroom." The antislavery forces had won their first victory in Lexington, and Henry Clay had achieved perhaps his greatest courtroom triumph. 14 During the months that followed the trial of Cassius M. Clay, Lincoln found in the columns of the Observer ample evidence to support his conviction that "no man was good enough to govern another." Among the runaway slaves ad- vertised for were: Jerry, rather spare, slow of speech when spoken to, of black complexion and one or two of his upper teeth knocked out. Polly, a likely yellow woman, whose fingers on her right hand are drawn toward the palm from a burn. William, [who has had] one of his legs broken and it is now somewhat twisted, which produces an impediment in his walk. A negro man named Henry, commonly called "Sir Henry," who has the marks of a recent scald on the left cheek, neck and ear, the whole being scarcely yet healed. Jesse, a dark mulatto, 45 years old, a small piece bit off one of his ears, a scar on one side of his forehead, and his right shoulder bone had been broken. 15 The keeper of the slave jail announced that there had been apprehended and was now in his custody a "sprightly young mulatto wench" who said her name was "Callie," with a "brand on the cheek, forehead and breast resembling the letter 'H'." Also a "stout black boy, Mose, who has a burn on his buttock from a hot iron in shape of an 'X' and his back is much scarred with the whip." And "Alex, who has his ears cropped and has been shot in the hind parts of his legs." A resident of Lexington had for sale "a Likely Negro girl, 88 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS fifteen years of age." A gentleman wished to purchase for his use a few "Young Men and Women." Another offered "a negro woman well acquainted with house business, about thirty years old, and occasionally fond of a dram." And on a certain county court day at the public auction block an owner would sell "Four Negroes, a woman, and her three children: a boy 9, a girl 7 and a boy 4. They will be sold separately if desired." Then there came an afternoon in early May, 1843. Nearly two thousand people were assembled on Cheapside. The wealth and culture of the Bluegrass were there, as well as ladies and gentlemen from Cincinnati, Louisville, Frankfort, and as far south as New Orleans. Ordinarily a slave sale was an event that attracted only casual interest, usually attended by pro- spective purchasers and a few idle bystanders. But today a dense mass of humanity swarmed about the old, rickety auc- tion block at the southwest corner of the courthouse yard, and the public square was filled to overflowing with men and women in fashionable attire. Two persons stood on the block: one was the auctioneer in a long swallow-tailed coat, plaid vest, and calfskin boots, with a white beaver hat on the back of his head; the other was a beautiful young girl with dark lustrous eyes, straight black hair, and a rich olive complexion, only one sixty-fourth Negro. She was white, yet a slave, the daughter of her master, about to be sold by his creditors to the highest and best bid- der. Reared as a house servant in a home of wealth and culture, Eliza had acquired grace, poise, education, and other accom- plishments most unusual in one of her station. Those who were selling her had taken no chances on her escape. For more than a week she had been confined in a filthy, crowded, vermin- infested slave pen with maimed and twisted pieces of humanity like William and Callie and Mose, and now she stood trembling and disheveled, staring with wide, frightened eyes into the upturned faces of that curious throng. With his hand clutching the girl's shrinking shoulder, the GRIST TO THE MILL 89 auctioneer addressed the crowd in businesslike tones. Here was a sprightly wench, such as never before had been offered at a public sale. She was skilled in all the household arts, de- pendable, trustworthy, and amiable in disposition. In the most insinuating tones he emphasized her exquisite physique and then called loudly for bids. "How much am I offered for the wench?" he inquired in a harsh voice. The bidding started at two hundred fifty dollars. Rapidly it rose by twenty-fives and fifties to R\e hundred- seven hundred— a thousand dollars. When twelve hundred was reached only two bidders remained in the field: Calvin Fair- bank, a young minister who had just recently come to town, and a short, thick-necked, beady-eyed Frenchman from New Orleans. "How high are you going?" asked the Frenchman. "Higher than you, Monsieur," replied Fairbank. The bidding went on, but slower— more hesitant— smaller. The auctioneer raved and pleaded. "Fourteen hundred and fifty," said Fairbank cautiously. The Frenchman was silent. The hammer rose— wavered, lowered— rose again— then the flushed and perspiring autctioneer dropped his hammer and jerked Eliza's dress back from her white shoulders, exhibiting to the gaze of the crowd her superb neck and breast. "Look here, gentlemen!" he shouted, "who is going to lose such a chance as this? Here is a girl fit to be the mistress of a king!" A suppressed murmur of horror ran through the crowd. Women turned away and tried to leave. Exclamations of anger were heard on every side. But the man on the block, callous from experience, was not to be intimidated. He knew his rights: that under the law the weeping, cringing creature at his side was a chattel and nothing more. "Fourteen sixty- five," ventured the Frenchman. "Fourteen seventy-five," responded the preacher. There was another frenzied appeal for bids, but none came, and it seemed that the contender from New Orleans was 90 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS through. Sickened at the spectacle, the crowd was melting away when suddenly the auctioneer "twisted the victim's pro- file" to the dazed and incredulous audience and "lifting her skirts, laid bare her beautiful, symmetrical body from her feet to her waist." "Ah, gentlemen," he exclaimed, slapping her naked thigh with a heavy hand, "who is going to be the winner of this prize?" "Fourteen hundred and eighty," came the Frenchman's voice feebly through the tumult. The man on the block lifted his gavel. "Are you all done? Once— twice— do I hear any more? Thr-e-e." The high bidder stood with a smile of triumph on his swarthy features. Eliza, knowing who the preacher was, turned an appealing, piteous face in his direction. "Fourteen eighty-five," said Fairbank. "Eighty-five, eighty-five— eighty-five; I'm going to sell this girl. Are you going to bid again?" The Frenchman shook his head. With a resounding thud the hammer fell, and Eliza crumpled down on the block in a swoon. "You've got her damned cheap, sir," said the auctioneer cheerily to Fairbank. "What are you going to do with her?" "Free her," cried Fairbank, and a mighty shout went up from the dispersing crowd led, surprisingly, by the great pro- slavery advocate, Robert Wickliffe, in whose carriage Eliza and her new owner drove to the house of a friend while her "free papers" were being made out. 16 The sale of Eliza sorely taxed the allegiance of central Ken- tucky to its favorite institution and provoked wide discussion and comment. 17 The emancipationists held it up as a hideous example of the barbarous slave code, while the opposition rather feebly contended that it was a most extraordinary incident, an extreme case never likely to occur again. And so the dis- cussion went on for months until the approaching presidential campaign absorbed public attention. 150 REWARD. RANAWAY from the subscriber, on the night of Monday the 11th July, a negro man named 9 about 30 years of a^e, 5 feet 6 er 7 inches high; of dark color; heavy in the chest; several of hin jaw teeth out; and upon his body are several old marks of fne \n hip, one or them straight down the hick. He took with him a quantity of clothing, and several hats. A reward of $150 will be paid for his apprehension and security, if taken out of the State of Kentucky: §100 if taken in any county bordering on the Ohio river; $50 if taken in any of the interior counties ex- cept Favette: or |20 if taken in the latter county. july 12-84-tf B. L. BOSTON. Reward for runaway slave. Lexington Observer & Reporter Slave auction on Cheapside GRIST TO THE MILL 91 The year 1844 was a momentous one for Lincoln. Things were happening down in the Bluegrass State that would ex- pand the area of his activities and give him more than state- wide prominence. The battle-scarred Harry of the West was sounding the call to faithful followers for a last desperate as- sault upon the citadel of the Presidency. Twice before in years gone by, the great prize had slipped through his fingers. Now the Whigs of the nation with boundless enthusiasm were gath- ering for the fray, thrilled as of yore by the unabated mag- netism of their old leader. The Observer carried in large bold type at the head of its editorial column names already familiar to Lincoln, and one that he would come to know better: Henry Clay for President of the United States; William Owsley for governor; Archibald Dixon for lieutenant governor, who ten years later introduced the Kansas-Nebraska Bill that brought Lincoln out of political retirement; and Robert S. Todd for state senator. From the first of May until the election in November the Observer contained almost nothing but politics. The activities of Senator Todd in behalf of Henry Clay were particularly noted. "His argument exceeded anything ever before heard on the subject," said the editor. "It was extremely sound and lucid. He was frequently interrupted by the hearty applause of the delighted audience." 18 Clay remained quietly at his country seat, while column after column of the newspaper was devoted to his views on the question of the day and intimate sketches of his home life at "Ashland." Here, as nowhere else, could Lincoln obtain intimate glimpses of his "beau-ideal of a statesman," and in these pages he saw also the faraway but ominous gestures toward disunion. A number of editorials discussed the resolution presented by citizens of Edgefield, South Carolina: "That the President of the United States be requested by the general convention of the slave states to call Congress together immediately; and the alternative distinctly presented to the free states, either to admit Texas into the Union, or to proceed peaceably and 92 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS calmly to arrange the terms of the dissolution of the Union." 19 To this Clay with all his old-time vigor made ringing reply that must have stirred Lincoln's blood. It was interesting to observe the attempts of the Democrats to place the Whig candidate in much the same position into which Lincoln himself maneuvered the agile Douglas fourteen years later. Clay was called an abolitionist in the South, while his political enemies charged him with proslavery sentiments in the North. 20 The Observer of June 5, 1844, carried certified statements from several persons of prominence who declared that years before in the debate on the Missouri Compromise, Clay had said: "If gentlemen will not allow us to have black slaves, they must let us have white ones; for we cannot cut our firewood, and black our shoes, and have our wives and daugh- ters work in the kitchen." Clay denied this charge in dignified but emphatic language and closed his reply as follows: "I have no desire to disparage the industry of the wives of any of the certifiers to the extract, nor to boast of that in my own family, but I venture to say that no one of them performs more do- mestic industry with their own hands than my wife does at Ashland." And yet, according to the Observer of July 24: "Mr. Wickliffe abused Mr. Clay in the most violent manner. He stated that Mr. Clay was at the head of abolitionism in the United States, and that he assisted in stealing all the negroes that have run off from this state." Meanwhile, Lincoln, as one of the Whig electors for his state, actively took the stump for his hero. 21 Day after day he engaged his old surveying instructor, John Calhoun, Stephen A. Douglas, and other Democratic orators in joint debates which carried him to nearly every part of the state and "ex- cited much popular feeling." Toward the close of the cam- paign, he crossed the Wabash into Indiana and spoke at Rock- port and other places near the home of his boyhood. It was at Gentry ville that his early friend, Nat Grigsby, entered the room in the midst of his speech and Lincoln recognized him instantly. "There is Nat!" he exclaimed, halting suddenly in GRIST TO THE MILL 93 his remarks, and "striding from the platform," he pushed eager- ly through the crowd until he reached the modest Nat and grasped him by the hand. Then, as though no interruption had occurred, he returned to the platform and finished his speech. That night Grigsby and Lincoln slept together at the home of the village storekeeper, where the presidential elector from Illinois "commenced telling stories and talked over old times" until nearly dawn. 22 During the latter part of August public attention at Lex- ington was diverted for a moment from politics to a local tragedy that was doubtless of interest to the Lincoln household. Mrs. Caroline A. Turner, who had outraged the community several years before by the brutal treatment of her slaves, had never reformed. Her husband, Judge Fielding L. Turner, be- fore he died in 1843 had stated in his will: "I have some slaves. I give them to my children. None of them are to go to the said Caroline for it would be to doom them to misery in life and a speedy death." 23 The said Caroline, however, had renounced the will and obtained several of these Negroes, including a coachman named Richard, who was described as a "sensible, well-behaved yellow boy, who is plausible and can read and write." A short while thereafter, on the early morning of August 22, Mrs. Turner was flogging Richard with her usual zest and severity when the boy, with superhuman strength born of agony, broke the heavy chains that bound him to the wall, seized his mistress by the throat, and strangled her to death with his bare hands. In the midst of intense excitement Richard was arrested, thrown in jail, quickly indicted, and rushed into trial for the murder of Caroline A. Turner. Few seemed now to remember her cruelties that had created such widespread indignation a few years before. The very attitude of the press toward the case was a revelation of how blind the public was to the iniquity of slavery. 24 Probably a dozen Negroes had died at the hands of Caroline 94 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Turner. Her own death had occurred under circumstances which, if they did not exonerate the slayer, ought to have at least reduced the homicide to "killing in sudden heat and pas- sion," which was not a capital crime in Kentucky. The de- fendant bore an excellent reputation, was quiet, peaceable and inoffensive. But the right of a slave to self-defense was a mere legal fiction. It would never do to admit that a bondman under any circumstances could ever take the life of his master or mistress— not even to save his own— and escape the gallows. Such, according to the indictment, was "against the peace and dignity of the Commonwealth of Kentucky." So on September 23, 1844, Richard was led handcuffed into court by Lincoln's cousin, Sheriff Waller Rodes, went through the formality of a trial, and was promptly found guilty of murder in the first degree. On November 19 at eleven o'clock Sheriff Rodes pulled a wooden trigger, and Richard plunged feet first through the narrow trap door of the scaffold in the jail yard and, obedient to the judgment of the court, "hung by the neck until dead." 25 Wherever he went, Lincoln found his candidate assailed by the Democrats or Locofocos with amazing virulence. From the stump, the press, and pamphlets came venomous thrusts at not only the public career, but the private life of Henry Clay. 26 Affidavits from Robert Wickliffe averred that "Mr. Clay has been in the habit of playing cards for money for many years back, at watering-places, on steamboats, and at private houses." Several congressmen recalled that in 1838 on the ex- citing question of the contested seats of the Mississippi mem- bers Clay had come over from the Senate to watch the votes in the House of Representatives and was standing close to the speaker's chair. The vote was a tie, and as Speaker Polk then cast his vote in the affirmative, "Henry Clay, looking directly at the Speaker with an expression and a gesture we shall never forget, exclaimed, 'Go Home, God damn you, where you be- GRIST TO THE MILL 95 long!' " Thomas Montague remembered that about a year before, he had been present at a sale of Thomas H. Clay's effects in Lexington, and that Henry Clay, exasperated at the low prices being bid for his son's property, "swore very loud and said, 'I do not care a God Damn whether the creditors get a damn cent of their debts or not, if they stand by and see the property sacrificed.' " 27 Clay's enemies further called attention to his duel with Humphrey Marshall, his encounter with John Randolph, and his part in "the murder of the lamented Cilley" by William J. Graves. They pointed out that he was even then under bond in the District of Columbia to keep the peace toward William R. King, United States minister to France and formerly senator from Alabama, and that, although sixty-seven years old, "cov- ered with grey hairs," when recently asked whether he would fight a duel at his age, Clay had replied: "I can not reconcile it to my sense of propriety, to make a declaration one way or the other." 28 To all this flood of hypocritical abuse the Whig press and stump speakers like Lincoln made vigorous reply, and the Observer thundered its heaviest broadsides 29 in edi- torials styled: "Mr. Clay and His Revilers." As election day approached, the Whigs redoubled their efforts on behalf of the national ticket. Enthusiasm and confidence in an over- whelming victory at the polls were boundless, and no follower of Henry Clay in all the nation was more absorbed in the con- test than Abraham Lincoln. At Lexington, barbecues were held under the giant trees of the Bluegrass woodlands, where that delectable concoction known as "Kentucky burgoo"— almost every kind of vegetable with dozens of chickens, pheasants, squirrels, rabbits, quail- stewed in huge iron kettles, whole shoats and lambs roasted on revolving spits, beeves baked in trenches under the hot fire of seasoned oak and hickory were served on dozens of wide tables each forty feet long. The Clay Club, with ornate ban- ners presented by the ladies, led by its grand marshals, Levi 96 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS O. Todd and Jesse Bayles, marched in cheering torchlight pro- cessions to Cheapside, where they were addressed by various Whig orators. On September 30 Calvin Fairbank, the Methodist preacher who had sprung into notice through his dramatic purchase of the slave girl Eliza, was arrested with Miss Delia Ann Webster, a young New England schoolteacher, principal of the Lexington Female Academy, on a charge of assisting slaves to escape, and the pair was lodged in Megowan's jail. It was charged that Fairbank and Miss Webster had taken three Negroes— Lewis, a waiter at the Phoenix Hotel, and his wife and child— in a hack to Maysville where they were ferried across the Ohio River to freedom. 30 Public indignation was intense. Fairbank, heav- ily ironed, was thrown into the dungeon of the jail in solitary confinement. Miss Webster was given quarters in the "Debtor's Room." Israel, the old Negro hack driver, was stripped to the waist and after more than fifty lashes on his bare back con- fessed that he had driven the carriage which conveyed the pris- oners and the runaway slaves from Lexington to Maysville. 31 The northern press in favor of Polk seized upon this in- cident as another opportunity to embarrass Mr. Clay further. Two days before the election the Ohio Coon-Catcher, a Loco- foco publication at Columbus, bitterly attacked the Whig can- didate, charging that Fairbank and Miss Webster "are im- prisoned, ironed and manacled within sight of the shades of Ashland," and called loudly to all abolitionists to vote against Clay. On Saturday night, November 2, the presidential campaign closed at Lexington with a "grand Procession, with Torch Lights, Transparencies, etc." W T hig leaders from many parts of the United States were present to participate in the final demonstration. Through the early hours of the evening the mammoth parade— Clay Clubs, fraternal orders, the military and citizens with blaring bands— marched and countermarched along the streets of the town, winding up at the public square where "Balloon & Fireworks" were set off, and standing be- GRIST TO THE MILL 97 neath a brilliantly illuminated Liberty Pole, Henry Clay made a short, graceful speech of gratitude and encouragement. The election was held on November 4, 5, and 6. Both Lincoln and his wife were tremendously concerned over the result— Mary even more anxious, if possible, than her husband for the success of her old friend. Without rapid means of communication the contest remained in doubt for days. The Observer of November 13 announced that the result seemed to hinge on the state of New York, that only the returns from New York City and a few river counties were in, and that they were ''strongly indicative that the state has given her thirty- six electoral votes to Mr. Clay." But it was not to be. In a few days news came that Polk had carried the Empire State by a narrow margin, and Mrs. Robert S. Todd, knowing the anxiety of the Lincoln household, sat down and wrote Mary a graphic description of how Clay had taken his defeat. The Todds and Clay and his wife were attending the wed- ding of a near relative of Clay. The party was composed of only intimate connections and friends, all of whom were Whigs and anxiously awaiting final news of the election. The New York mail was due in Lexington about ten o'clock that evening. As the hour approached for the arrival of the mail [wrote Mrs. Todd], I saw several gentlemen quietly leave the room, and know- ing their errand, I eagerly watched for their return. As soon as they came in the room I knew by the expression of each counte- nance that New York had gone Democratic. The bearers of the news consulted together a moment, then one of them advanced to Mr. Clay who was standing in the center of a group, of which your father was one, and handed him a paper. Although I was sure of the news it contained, I watched Mr. Clay's face for confirmation of the evil tidings. He opened the paper and as he read the death knell of his political hopes and life-long ambition, I saw a distinct blue shade begin at the roots of his hair, pass slowly over his face like a cloud and then disappear. He stood for a moment as if frozen. He laid down the paper, and, turning to a table, filled a glass with wine, and raising it to his lips with a pleasant smile, said: "I drink to the health and happiness of all assembled here." 98 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Setting down his glass, he resumed his conversation as if nothing had occurred and was, as usual, the life and light of the company. The contents of the paper were soon known to every one in the room and a wet blanket fell over our gaiety. We left the wedding party with heavy hearts. Alas! our gallant "Harry of the West" has fought his last presidential battle. 32 The defeat of Henry Clay was a great disappointment to Abraham Lincoln. 33 Though twice before the Sage of Ashland had tasted the bitter dregs, there had always been hope for the future. Now his decisive defeat by Polk convinced Lincoln with Mrs. Todd that his old political idol had run his last race; that no man who did not actively espouse the cause of slavery could be elected President of the United States. 34 The cam- paign, however, had been a decided success for Lincoln per- sonally. His influence as a Whig leader was no longer confined to Sangamon County. It had spread even beyond the boundary of the state, and he seemed about to achieve his highest am- bition to be, as he confided to a friend, the "De Witt Clinton of Illinois." 35 EIGHT The True American V^ASSIUS Marcellus Clay was a unique and the most pic- turesque antislavery advocate in Kentucky. Born on a fine Bluegrass plantation in a magnificent old mansion of native granite, gray limestone, and red brick laid in Flemish bond, a son of the largest slaveholder in the state, he espoused the cause of emancipation at an early age, and by the time of his graduation at Yale College he was thoroughly steeped in the doctrines of William Lloyd Garrison. He was a man of striking appearance and enormous physical strength: tall, handsome, big-boned, broad-shouldered, virile, graceful, with dark flashing eyes, a heavy shock of black hair, and a rich, sonorous voice which resembled that of his dis- tinguished kinsman. He was generous, frank, and polite to all, and even gentle among his friends, in spite of a hot temper that sometimes warped a usually sound judgment. 1 Possessed of a restless energy that never flagged, an iron will that rode roughshod over all obstacles, utterly fearless, and fiercely com- bative when aroused, Clay was eagerly accepted into that small group of emancipationists who had so long been intimidated 100 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS by the aggressive supremacy of the slave power in Kentucky. To Mary Lincoln and her sisters in Springfield, Cash Clay seemed like a member of their own family. They had known him intimately since they were children, when he, while a stu- dent at Transylvania, came to live in the Todd home following the fire that destroyed the main building and dormitories of that institution in 1829. 2 Several years later Clay had married Mary Jane Warfield, an intimate friend of the Todd girls, and young Mrs. Edwards, the oldest sister, was matron of honor at the wedding. Since 1840 Cassius M. Clay had been the stormy petrel of central Kentucky politics, and old friends in Illinois had fol- lowed his tempestuous career through heated controversy and bloodshed. While Lincoln certainly did not agree with all his views on slavery, nor frequently in the manner of their presen- tation, the two were in hearty accord on the principle expressed by Lincoln in characteristic language when he said: "Clay, I always thought that the man who made the corn should eat the corn." 3 The year 1845 found Clay fully prepared to launch a fresh attack on slavery in Kentucky. Late in January he published in the local papers and also in pamphlet form an address: To the People of Kentucky. He argued that the institution of slavery was both morally and economically wrong. He pointed out that land in Ohio, though much inferior in fertility to the soil of Kentucky, was higher in market value because of free labor, and that slaveholders would benefit economically from emancipation, even without compensation. Population is sparse, and without numbers there is neither com- pletion nor division of labor, and, of necessity, all mechanic arts languish among us. Agriculture drags along its slow pace with slovenly, ignorant, reckless labor. A loose and inadequate respect for the rights of property follows in the wake of slavery. Dueling, bloodshed and Lynch-Law leave but little security to person. A general demoralization has corrupted the first minds of the nation, its hot contagion has spread among the whole people; licentious- THE TRUE AMERICAN 101 ness, crime and bitter hate infest us at home; repudiation and the forcible propagandism of slavery is arraying against us the world in arms. I appeal to history, to reason, to nature and to conscience, which neither time nor space, nor fear, nor hate, nor hope of re- ward, nor crime, nor pride, nor selfishness can utterly silence— are not these things true? And then he closed with an eloquent appeal: Italian skies mantle over us, and more than Sicilian luxuriance is spread beneath our feet. Give us free labor, and we shall indeed become the garden of the world! But what if not? Man was not created only for the eating of Indian meal; the mind— the soul must be fed as well as the body. The same spirit which led us on to the battle-field, gloriously to illustrate the National name, yet lives in the hearts of our people. They feel their false position, their impotency of future accomplishment. This weight must be removed. Kentucky must be free! As the weeks went by, Clay found it increasingly difficult to obtain space in the Lexington newspapers. His last card, which the editor grudgingly consented to publish, seemed tem- perate enough. ''Although no man is more sensible than I am of the evils of slavery," wrote Clay, "it has never been con- sistent with my real feelings or ideas of true policy to deal in indiscriminate denunciation of slaveholders. One may very well feel acutely the violations of general principles and, yet deeply sympathize with the self-made victims of error— the man who inflicts evil is more to be pitied than one who suffers it. Such, at least, is my own experience." 4 The editor of the Ob- server, while a conservative slavery man, had always kept his columns open to the advocates of emancipation. But Clay's articles were so "militant and provocative" in tone that in "the interest of the public peace" he declined further articles for publication. The intrepid Clay, however, had foreseen such a possibility, and being a man of independent fortune, he now set about the execution of a long-contemplated plan to start a newspaper of his own. He was fully aware of the dangers that confronted 102 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS such an undertaking. He remembered very well the experi- ence of James G. Birney who, having attempted in 1833 to start an antislavery newspaper, the Philanthropist, at Danville, was threatened with murder and banished from Kentucky. There were many who warned him of a similar fate. In our judgment [said the Observer] Mr. Clay has taken the very worst time that he could to begin the agitation of this great and delicate question, even for the accomplishment of his object, since it is an admitted truth that the fanatical crusade which has been waged by Northern Abolitionists against the institution of slavery, which never in any degree concerned them, has produced a state of feeling in the minds of slaveholders anything but pro- pitious to the slave or his liberation. . . . We make these remarks not to discourage Mr. Clay, for we know very well that his ardent and enthusiastic temperament never sees an obstacle in his way, and we do not know anyone whom under other circumstances we should welcome to the Editorial Corps with more cordiality than Mr. Clay, but to apprise him in advance, that, from our observa- tion and reflection, he is embarked in a very hopeless undertaking. 5 However, in spite of the misgivings of his friends and the mutterings of the slavocracy, Clay calmly and cautiously set about his task. He selected for his printing establishment the second story of a brick building near the corner of Main and Mill streets. He lined the outside doors with heavy sheet iron. The only approach to the office, a steep, narrow stairway, was guarded by two brass four-pounder cannon mounted behind folding doors and loaded with Minie balls and nails. The office was also equipped with a stand of rifles, several shotguns, and a dozen Mexican lances. As a last extremity Clay provided an avenue of escape through a trap door in the roof and means whereby he could touch off several kegs of powder, secreted in one corner of the room, which would blow up the office and its invaders. 6 On June 3, 1845, The True American, a weekly newspaper, with "God and Liberty" in bold type over the date line, made its appearance on the streets of Lexington. Three hundred Kentuckians and seventeen hundred subscribers from other THE TRUE AMERICAN 103 states greeted the new champion of freedom with warm en- thusiasm, while Horace Greeley, editor of the New York Trib- une, acclaimed it "The first paper which ever bearded the monster in his den, and dared him to a most unequal en- counter." Just how many copies of The True American went to Springfield, where probably a dozen of the editor's early friends resided, will never be known. The proposed publication of an avowed antislavery organ in Kentucky had attracted intense interest throughout the country, and nowhere more than in Lincoln's own city. Its complete prospectus had appeared in several issues of the Sangamo Journal, and Lincoln could not help but endorse that portion of the announcement which stated that "a number of Kentuckians, slaveholders and others, propose to publish in the City of Lexington a paper devoted to gradual and constitutional emancipation. ... It is not pro- posed that our members should cut loose from their old party associations. The press under our control will appeal tem- perately but firmly to the interests and the reason, not to the passions, of our people. . . . But our readers shall not be our masters— if they love not truth they may go elsewhere." 7 Although Lincoln and Clay at this time had never met, the latter was certainly known to Lincoln, not only as an old friend of the Todd family, but as a vigorous, fearless, anti- slavery leader, whose personal encounters had been vividly described from time to time through the columns of that reg- ular Lexington visitor to the Lincoln household. Lincoln was familiar with the tragic, futile effort of Elijah Lovejoy to es- tablish an antislavery press in free territory at Alton, Illinois, in which he lost his life. Now he had an opportunity to observe public reaction to such a newspaper published within the very threshold of the institution and among its stoutest defenders. There was no mistaking the position of The True American on the great question of the day. It was the "avowed and un- compromising enemy of slavery." Its views were stated fully and frankly, though sometimes in language not altogether tem- perate. It was in favor of the liberation of slaves by "constitu- 104 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS tional and legal means," and not otherwise; Congress had no power to interfere with slavery where it was already established without the "legitimate consent of the states. The addition of new slave states or a slave territory to this Union, is uncon- stitutional and impossible." 8 But Clay's modest four-page sheet was received with scowls of hostility throughout the Bluegrass. Suppression by force was darkly hinted at. Such proposed action, however, was at first emphatically rejected by the cooler element of the community. On June 7 the Observer condemned editorially the suggestion that "It would be right to demolish by violence Mr. Clay's press," saying: If there be an instance on record where a resort to Mob Law has been justifiable in a civilized country, we know not where to look for it. At the same time, we must take occasion to say, without entering into a controversy on the subject, that we think Mr. Clay's enterprise utterly impracticable if not quixotic. The time and the mode are, in our judgment, wrong— radically, fundamentally wrong. It matters not what a man's views about slavery may be. There is a fitness in things— a propriety in action, which ought never to be disregarded by a considerate man. Within a few short weeks Abraham Lincoln saw in the sit- uation at Lexington ample confirmation of the opinion which he had expressed in 1837, that "The promulgation of abolition doctrines tends rather to increase than to abate" the evils of slavery. Broadsides from The True American were answered by heavy volleys from the usually conservative Observer, and newspapers from other states, both north and south, took up the fight. Finally, on July 16 the Observer carried at the top of its edi- torial column "An Appeal to the Slaveholders of Fayette": It is time, full time that slaveholders of Fayette should have peace— that their rights and their security should no longer be a football to be kicked to and fro by unprincipled political jugglers and office-seekers. Whenever an impudent political schemer in poli- tics wishes to make a breeze, he begins at once to bawl out about THE TRUE AMERICAN 105 slavery, abolition, emancipation, . . . until by the agitation of a most delicate subject he creates a little excitement and reaps some political profit out of it. Slaveholders of Fayette, is it not now time for you to act on this matter yourself, and as conventions are all the fashion at this time, hold one yourself? Since we penned these lines, we have looked over the New York Tribune, deeply tinctured with abolition tendencies, and were struck with the following paragraph: "Nothing Like Discussion— Among the evidences that C. M. Clay's True American is exerting a strong influence in Kentucky is the fact that other papers opposed to his course are under the necessity of answering his arguments and thus aiding to produce that wholesome moral agitation which will be sure to result in Triumph of Liberty over Slavery. If we were in a slave state, we should draw great encouragement from this sign of the times, be- lieving with a very shrewd observer, that slavery is an institution in every way so bad that it matters little what people say about it if they will only keep talking. It is only in an atmosphere of silence and stagnation that the friends of slavery can hope to perpetuate its existence!" Aye, play into his hands, you wicked agitators, or if we must be charitable, you ignorant numbskulls. Horace Greeley, the editor of the Tribune, is a shrewd man, and we are almost irresistibly drawn to the conclusion that these Locos are engaged in this thing of agitation, "wholesome agitation," as Greeley calls it, for the very purpose of overthrowing the institution. Beware of them, slave- holders! Beware of them! Public resentment against the antislavery course of Clay's newspaper was soon reflected in the attitude of candidates for office. Garret Davis and the gifted but erratic Tom Marshall, rival candidates for Congress, were holding a heated series of joint debates throughout the old Ashland district. Both can- didates were loud in their denunciation of The True American and its editor. To clamorous requests that he state his position on slavery and the repeal of the Negro Law, which since 1833 had prohibited the bringing of slaves into Kentucky as mer- chandise, Marshall responded in resounding phrases from a platform erected in the courthouse yard at Lexington: 106 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS I answer now, I am not in favor of Abolition of slavery in Ken- tucky. I believe, in the first place, that there is no government on earth armed with the constitutional power to effect this object, and if there was I would resist its exercise. . . . The abolition of slavery in the United States involves more than a civil or political or social revolution. It is not mere prejudice of race or caste, a despotic prejudice founded in injustice and upheld by power, which the Abolitionist seeks to destroy. He aims at a revolution in nature and the moral structure of the species, unauthorized alike by physi- cal or intellectual laws. I might wish to see it effected when it shall please the Creator to wash out the mark he has branded on the African's brow, to obliterate the all-enduring monument of past wrong, the pledge of eternal hate, the badge of physical in- feriority and past servitude that dooms the African and his de- scendants while among us to be a slave, protected by the benev- olence or interest of his master, or an outcast shielded by no laws, linked with no sympathy, the miserable victim of a prejudice in- curable, because founded in the nature of things; or a stern, des- perate domestic foe, burning with hate, panting for revenge— armed with the power of freedom, yet stripped of all its most precious blessings and advantages. The idea of citizenship and equality, a Democratic society in Kentucky and Virginia compounded of liberated African negroes and the descendants of European chivalry, the races kept, too, for- ever distinct, is an absurdity too monstrous for Abolitionism itself. Eternal war, war to extermination of slavery or amalgamation of the races are the three alternatives. Shield me and mine from that philanthropy which would blend the crystal eye, the elevated fea- tures, the rosy skin, all the striking and glorious attributes that mark the favorites of nature, exhaling fragrance and redolent with beauty and of bloom, with the disgusting peculiarities, the wool and grease and foetere of the blackened savage of the Southern deserts. 9 But the editor of The True American unhorsed the "hybrid candidate" for Congress with a single, well-planted blow. Much to Marshall's discomfiture, Clay quoted "the apostate Whig's" Letters to the Commonwealth, written several years before in opposition to the repeal of the Negro Law at a time when he One of the brass cannon used in the defense of The True American office - ..... * Cassius M. Clay THE TRUE AMERICAN 107 was not "a beguiling candidate for office." In his denunciation of slavery Marshall had then drawn a pathetic picture of slav- ery's blighting effect on his native state: I have said that I consider negro slavery as a political misfor- tune. The phrase was too mild. It is a cancer— a slow, consuming cancer— a withering pestilence— an unmitigated curse. . . . There is but one explanation of the facts I have shown. There is but one cause commensurate with the effects produced. The clog which has stayed the march of the people, the incubus which has weighed down her enterprise, strangled her commerce, kept sealed her ex- haustless fountains of mineral wealth, and paralysed her arts, man- ufacturies and improvements is Negro Slavery. This is the cancer which has corroded her revenues, laid waste her lowlands, banished her citizens, and swallowed up her productions— this is the maga- zine, the least approach to which, fills her with terror. This is the slumbering volcano which will bear no handling. The smallest breath to fan, the slightest threat to stir its sleeping but unex- tinguished fires, drives her to madness. Oh! Well might she curse the tyrant who planted this Dark Plague Spot upon her virgin bosom! 10 Lincoln's father-in-law was the Whig candidate for the state Senate against Colonel Charles C. Moore, a virulent, proslavery Independent, whose platform was the repeal or nullification of the "Iniquitous Negro Law." And by July the slavery issue, fanned to white heat by the presence of The True American, reached a stage where the Whig leaders greatly feared whole- sale desertion of their proslavery constituents to the Democratic camp. Robert S. Todd was in danger of defeat at the hands of his dashing and vociferous opponent, who proclaimed a militant hostility to all enemies of slavery, the colonel boldly charging that Todd had been nominated by the emancipation wing of his party and that his record in the legislature proved him to be "no friend of the institution." With this aspect of the campaign growing more serious every day, Todd's friends prevailed upon him to write a card which was published in the Observer. He would not repudiate 108 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS his stand on the Negro Law, even to save himself from political death. "Having been present during its discussion," he said, " (though not as a member) I was in favor of its passage, and have been uniform and steadfast in its support, believing, as I sincerely do, that it is founded on principles of sound policy." But with a view, no doubt, of placating his proslavery con- stituents Todd closed his brief statement with the declaration: "I am a slaveholder. Were I an abolitionist or an emancipator in principle, I would not hold a slave." 11 The card was undeniably weak on the vital issue, and Col- onel Moore said so in no uncertain terms. But the Observer, with an eye toward the wavering members of its party, sought to bolster up the halfhearted announcement by editorial com- ment: "Mr. Todd meets these questions like a man and a statesman. He is no abolitionist in any sense of the term— he is the owner of slaves himself and is determined, so far as lies in his power, that the rights of the slaveholder, as guaranteed by the constitution, shall be protected." 12 Notwithstanding all this, the proslavery champions con- tinued their campaign against Todd. Robert Wickliffe wrote "a long lecture to the people of Fayette County" which ap- peared in the columns of the Gazette. "Twice or thrice," said he, "has this Abolition Club (the Clay Club of Lexington) ordered the election of the salaried President of the Bank of Kentucky, and the majority has obeyed." And Todd replied to his old enemy in a sizzling card which was published both in the Observer and in pamphlets. Mr. Wickliffe in his fit of malice and desperation, seems to imagine every man, except himself, an abolitionist, and he has, as I have heard, indulged the belief that Queen Victoria and her ministers, at their leisure moments, are plotting to steal away his three hundred slaves! . . . But Fellow Citizens [said Todd in con- clusion] with all the loathing that an upright man can feel to- wards an habitual and notorious falsifier, an unscrupulous and indiscriminate calumniator, reckless alike of fame, of honor, and of truth, I must now take my present leave of this miserable old THE TRUE AMERICAN 109 man, and express to you my regret that to justify myself against his unprovoked assaults, unfounded charges and illiberal insinua- tions, I have been reluctantly compelled, in this manner and at this time, to trespass on your patience. 13 Two weeks before the election Wickliffe issued a bitter re- joinder in the form of a handbill entitled: "To the Freemen of Fayette." As to Todd's card: He begins by telling you that I am actuated by malice towards him personally. This is ever the charge of the weak and vicious. It is untrue and none other than a craven spirit would condescend to use it. It is thus he meets the facts which I have furnished to the people showing that he is not a desirable representative. If there are personal differences between Mr. Todd and myself, that does not prove that while he was active as President of the Branch Bank of Kentucky, he did not, as a member of the Legislature for Fayette, assist in getting the Bank released from paying into the Treasury $20,000 a year, . . . nor that in this whole matter he did not play the part of Bank President and Legislator, in a bargain between the state and the corporation, where the interests of the two were irreconcilable, and in which the bank gained and the state lost. Wickliffe replied to several other charges in the Todd card and then concluded: "Mr. Todd chooses to insinuate that I acquired my wealth by dishonesty. This insinuation is a base and infamous falsehood. This calumny was first uttered by Robert J. Breckinridge, whose slander merchant Mr. Todd is, and how he fared for it, the public has seen. ... In my old age I have been assaulted by the basest calumnies and foulest abuse, but while I live I will discharge my duties to my country as steadfastly as I did in bygone days against more formidable adversaries." 14 The election was held August 4, 5, and 6. It was a time of great anxiety to those conservative Whigs who realized that the paramount issue of the campaign was slavery and that their candidate for the Senate was far from acceptable to the radical wing of the party. On Wednesday, the third day of the elec- 110 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS tion, the Democrats were leading by a narrow margin, when the Sage of Ashland emerged from his retirement and made the rounds of the polling places with Robert S. Todd in an open barouche, "fresh in health and buoyant in spirits with his ready joke and laugh, among his farmer friends." This strategy had the desired effect and did much to save the day. The mere sight of their beloved chieftain rallied the disheart- ened Whigs, and Todd and the rest of the ticket were elected by safe majorities. But the result was a costly victory for Henry Clay, as the following night an incendiary seeking revenge crept into his "Bagging Factory & Rope Walk" and burned the large plant, containing fifty tons of hemp, to the ground. 15 The election was over. The radical proslavery element that sought the repeal of the law which prohibited breeding and traffic in slaves as merchandise had been defeated, and the dis- gruntled leaders began to look about for the cause. The True American was now some nine weeks old, and many believed that the contaminating influence of Cash Clay's newspaper was responsible for the result at the polls. With the appearance of each issue the temper of the popu- lace had become more and more inflamed. Threats had been made both anonymously and in the open against the life of the editor. One of the communications, scrawled in blood, read: C. M. Clay: You are meaner than the autocrats of hell. You may think you can awe and curse the people of Kentucky to your infamous course. You will find when it is too late for life, the people are no cowards. Eternal hatred is locked up in the bosoms of braver men, your bet- ters, for you. The hemp is ready for your neck. Your life can not be spared. Plenty thirst for your blood— are determined to have it. It is unknown to you and your friends, if you have any, and in a way you little dream of. Revengers. 16 It cannot be said that Clay had always acted with discretion during the short, stormy career of The True American. Head- strong, quick-tempered, a master of withering invective, he had THE TRUE AMERICAN 111 dared a thing that no other man had ever accomplished. He had grappled with the overwhelming forces of slavery in their own citadel, giving no quarter and asking none. The under- taking, to have had the faintest chance for success, was one that called for tact, patience, and foresight. Yet the result would have been the same, perhaps not so soon, but eventually, even for a man much better poised than he. And so, as the days went by and public excitement grew, the end of The True American came in sight. Worn out by the nerve-racking struggle, on July 12 Clay was stricken with typhoid fever and lay for weeks in packs of ice. During his illness several friends undertook the publica- tion of the newspaper, but their blundering, well-meaning efforts only made matters worse. 17 On August 12 The True American published a long, carefully prepared article by "one of the very first intellects in the Nation," who, as stated, was also the owner of many slaves: Slaveholders particularly [said the article in part] must look to and obey the progress of the times, and adopt all the ameliorat- ing measures possible in the economy and management of their slaves. They should regard them as human beings and Christians, and spare the lash and all degrading punishments. They should hail the progress of public opinion, and aid in lifting the slave into comfort and self-esteem. That goes to raise them from dirt, ver- min, and horrid hovels to good beds, clean cabins, wholesome and abundant food and decent, comfortable clothes. That goes to edu- cate them, gives them religion and fits them for future usefulness and citizenship. It is vain for the master to try to fence his dear slaves in from all intercourse with the great world, to create his little petty and tyrannical kingdom on his own plantation, and keep it for his ex- clusive reign. He can not shut out the light of information any more than the light of heaven. It will penetrate all disguises and shine upon the dark night of slavery. He must recollect that he is surrounded. The North, the West, the South border on him. The free West Indian, the free Mexican, the free Yankee, the more than free Abolitionist of his own country. Everything trenches on his infected district, and the wolf looks calmly in upon his fold. 112 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS This article and an editorial of like tenor in the same issue were the sparks that touched off a rock-shivering blast of pop- ular indignation. The pent-up feelings of the community— the hatred, suspicion, and bitterness engendered by the Fairbank Negro stealing, the recent battle at the polls, and the publica- tion of an "abolition" newspaper under the very nose of the slavocracy— now broke loose in a fury. About three o'clock on the afternoon of August 14 Clay heard that a meeting of citizens who favored the suppression of The True American was in progress at the courthouse. Though weak and emaciated from his long illness, he crawled out of bed, put on his clothes, buckled on his bowie knife, drove downtown, and staggered into the courtroom just as the meet- ing began. Some thirty men were there when he arrived, and they peremptorily demanded that he cease the publication of his "fire-brand" at once. Smarting from the fresh wounds of his recent defeat for Congress, Thomas R. Marshall then launched into a speech in which he charged that Cassius M. Clay had "assassinated" the peace and good order of the community. Lying prostrate upon a bench, Clay denounced the "apostate Whig," and though scarcely able to speak above a whisper, demanded a hearing. This was ignored and the meeting ad- journed. Several hours later a committee of three came to Clay's home and delivered to him, as he lay on his bed, an ultimatum that he "discontinue the publication of the paper called The True American, as its further continuance in our judgment, is dangerous to the peace of our community, and to the safety of our homes and families." The communication closed by saying: "We owe it to you to state that, in our judgment, your own safety, as well as the repose and peace of the community are involved in your an- swer." Clay immediately dictated an emphatic reply which was both a refusal to comply with the committee's request and a THE TRUE AMERICAN 113 challenge. "Your advice with regard to my personal safety," he said, "is worthy of the source whence it emanated, and meets with the same contempt from me which the purpose of your mission excites. Go tell your secret conclave of cowardly assas- sins that C. M. Clay knows his rights and how to defend them." The news of the committee's visit and the editor's defiant reply to its demand spread swiftly and by suppertime was all over town. That evening the impending crisis was the sole topic of conversation. Little groups of citizens discussed it until a late hour from the comfortable depths of the huge hickory rocking chairs on the sidewalk in front of the Phoenix Hotel, while others stood talking in low tones on the street corner near the Clay residence, where a light shone dimly through the trees from the sickroom window. And the Lexington cor- respondent to the Sangamo Journal at Springfield sat down and wrote that newspaper: During the whole of to-day the popular excitement was very high. Many anticipated that the meeting of three p.m. would tear down the office of The True American. The meeting for Monday will be tremendous. What it will do I am of course unable to say. It may postpone ultimate action, but I think the almost universal impression is that it will resolve itself into a committee for the redress of grievances and demolish The True American office, though everybody understands that the editor will have to be killed first, and that he is somewhat difficult to kill. This is a most lament- able state of affairs. What effect the killing of C. M. Clay will have on the free states in exasperating the abolitionists and swelling the number, you can judge as well as I. 18 Two days later the sick man gave out for publication a brief statement of his views on slavery. He did not sanction any mode of freeing the slaves contrary to the laws and constitution of the state of Kentucky; he was opposed to their admission to the right of suffrage. The idea of amalgamation and social equality was impossible and absurd. He did believe, however, that every female slave born after a certain day and year should be free at the age of twenty-one. After the expiration of thirty 114 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS years the state should provide a fund for the purchase of the existing generation of slaves, and thereafter human slavery should be forever at an end. Little attention, however, was paid to this declaration. Ap- parently the argumentative attitude of the editor only served to feed the flames. On Saturday, August 16, handbills were issued to the "People of Lexington and Fayette County," calling for the suppression of The True American and announcing a mass meeting of citizens for the following Monday. Runners were dispatched with these posters to be distributed in ad- joining counties. Meanwhile, Clay made preparations as best he could for a last desperate stand. The excitement of the past week and his trip to the courthouse had caused a grave, half-delirious re- lapse, but with a dogged courage that had carried him through many precarious situations he gave orders for battle to a handful of chosen friends. The two brass cannons were loaded afresh with nails and Minie balls and sighted so that the deadly canister would rake the double sheet-iron doors breast high. Rifles and shotguns were fitted with new percussion caps, and the shafts and points of the Mexican lances carefully tested. Clay made his will and sent his camp bed down to the office. The enemies of The True American, however, were work- ing from many angles. They realized that Clay had the legal right to resist the invasion of his office, and none knew better than they that any attempt to molest the printing establishment would result in bloodshed. Consequently, a plan was devised to seize the plant under process of law, and on the early morn- ing of Monday, August 18, the day of the mass meeting, Judge Trotter of the police court, quietly and without notice or any opportunity for the editor to be heard, issued an injunction against The True American office and all its appurtenances. The city marshal, armed with a writ of seizure, then appeared at Clay's bedside, and on demand from the officer, the sick man yielded up his keys, turned over on his pillow, and wept bitterly. 19 On that same morning, at eleven o'clock, a crowd of twelve THE TRUE AMERICAN 115 hundred men, unaware of the secret court proceedings, as- sembled in the courthouse yard. They were addressed by the man whom Clay had so scornfully dubbed the "apostate Whig," who harangued the crowd for more than an hour. In the preparation and establishment of his office in Lexington, Mr. Cassius M. Clay acted as though he were in an enemy's country [exclaimed Marshall, after a graphic recital of many grievances against the Abolition newspaper]. He has employed scientific en- gineers in fortifying against attacks, and prepared the means of destroying the lives of his fellow citizens, it is said, in mines of gun-powder, stacks of musket and pieces of cannon. The whole course of the man bears evidence incontestable that he was entering upon a career fatal to the peace of the community of which he was a member. . . . Such a man and such a course is no longer toler- able or consistent with the character or safety of this community. With the power of a press, with education, fortune, talent, sus- tained by a powerful party, at least abroad, who have made this bold experiment in Kentucky through him, the negroes might well, as we have strong reason to believe they do, look to him as a de- liverer. On the frontier of slavery, with three free states fronting and touching us along a border of seven hundred miles, we are peculiarly exposed to the assaults of Abolition. The plunder of our property, the kidnapping, stealing and abduction of our slaves, is a light evil in comparison with planting a seminary of their infer- nal doctrines in the very heart of our densest slave population. . . . Mr. Clay has complained in his recent handbills of his indis- position, and charged the people as deficient in courage and mag- nanimity in moving upon him when he is incapable of defense. If all that be said of him, his purpose, and his means, be true, his indisposition is fortunate. He may rest assured that they will not be deterred by one nor 10,000 such men as he. He cannot bully his countrymen. A Kentuckian himself, he should have known Kentuckians better. His weakness is his security. We are armed and resolved— if resistance be attempted, the consequence be on his own head. For our vindication under the circumstances, we appeal to Kentucky and to the world. At the conclusion of his speech, Mr. Marshall offered the following resolutions, which were unanimously adopted: 116 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Be it resolved by the Assembly: First: That no Abolition press ought to be tolerated in Kentucky, and none shall be in this city or its vicinity. Second: That if the office of The True American be surrendered peaceably, no injury shall be done to the building or other prop- erty. The presses and printing apparatus shall be carefully packed up and sent out of the state, subject then to Mr. C. M. Clay's order. Third: That if resistance be offered, we will force the office at all hazards and destroy the nuisance. Fourth: That if an attempt be made to revive the paper here, we will assemble. Fifth: That we hope C. M. Clay will be advised. For by our re- gard to our wives, our children, our property, our country, our honor, wear what name he may, be connected with whom he may, whatever arm, or party here or elsewhere may sustain him, he shall not publish an abolition paper here, and this we affirm at the risk, be it of his blood, or our own, or both, or of all he may bring, of bond or free, to aid his murderous hand. Sixth: That the chairman be, and he is hereby, authorized to ap- point a committee of sixty of our body who shall be authorized to repair to the office of The True American, take possession of the press and printing apparatus, pack up the same, and place it at the railroad office for transportation and report forthwith to this body. 20 The chairman then appointed sixty men from the crowd, who proceeded promptly but quietly to Number 6, Mill Street, where to their surprise they found the city marshal with Clay's keys, which he surrendered to them after a "formal protest." By nightfall the rooms on the second floor of the building were dismantled and the press and paraphernalia of The True American packed up and carted to the depot en route to a destination beyond the border of slave territory. The most violent denunciation by northern newspapers fol- lowed the "outbreak of the mob at Lexington," and Lincoln's Sangamo Journal published a lurid, exaggerated account of the final proceedings: "We understand that the 'choice spirits' consisted of about one hundred and fifty men, wearing black masks to conceal their features (this was modest at all events,) THE TRUE AMERICAN 117 and calling themselves 'the black Indians'— that they made loud noise through the streets of Lexington, maltreated many negroes, and, besides tarring and feathering several in the public square, broke the ribs of one man, the hands of another, and so injured the eye of a third that the poor fellow will lose it. What will the people at large think of these proceedings?" 21 The action of the committee of sixty was, of course, stoutly defended by the Observer. "Men may write books as they please to prove that this was a lawless procedure and in utter violation of the principles of the Constitution and laws by which our rights and property are protected. It will avail nothing. There may be a state of things in which Constitutions and laws are totally inadequate to the public protection from dire calamities and, in that event, popular action (though usually to be deprecated) must be excused." 22 In sharp con- tradiction of the version printed in the Sangamo Journal, it congratulated the community upon "the rare spectacle of an innumerable body of citizens, meeting as a matter of course with highly excited feelings, yet so far subduing and moderating their spirit as to accomplish their purpose without the slightest damage to property or the effusion of a drop of blood." 23 But as criticism of the outside press grew louder and more rabid, the local paper lost its temper and exclaimed: "Howl on, ye wolves! Kentucky is ready to meet and repel your whole blood- thirsty piratical crew!" 24 However, in the midst of all his troubles Clay was more widely known and warmly appreciated elsewhere than he knew. In April, 1846, William H. Seward, former governor of New York, soon to be United States senator from that state, later candidate for President and then secretary of state in the cabinet of Abraham Lincoln, visited Lexington on his western tour. Coming in from Maysville by stagecoach over a turnpike "of great smoothness and beautiful curves," the passengers at the beginning of the trip rode on the outside of the lumbering vehicle. "Having heard so much of the beauty of the environs of Lexington," Seward wrote back home, "I persevered in keep- 118 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS ing my outside place through a heavy rain, which greeted us as we entered the town." Spreading beeches and maples grew everywhere, and the woodlands were "embellished with flow- ering trees, the white blossoms of the buckeye and the dogwood, of the wild cherry and the wild plum, mingled with the brilliant purple clusters of the Judas-tree." As the coach rolled down Limestone Street, the driver pointed out the house of Cassius M. Clay— an elegant stone cottage "embowered with shade trees and shrubbery" in the center of a "beautiful park." Next morning Seward went to "Thorn Hill." 25 "A gentle- man of thirty-five, fine, straight and respectable in his look, came forth in wrapper when I rang the bell." In a few minutes Seward and Cash Clay were fast friends. When the Lexington visitor returned to his hotel, he found that Henry Clay had called and left a cordial invitation to visit "Ashland," which he did twice during his short stay in Lex- ington. But as the former governor penned a letter to his old political friend, Thurlow Weed, his mind was not on Henry but on Cash. The name of Cassius M. Clay was never mentioned in Cincin- nati without respect and affection. On entering Kentucky, it ceased to be pronounced at all in your ears, and if you allude to it, it comes back weighted with alarms, apprehensions and caviling. . . . I can only say of Cassius M. Clay that I found him all I desired he should be. ... I found him so brave, so true, so kind. ... I had feared he would be inflated with the praises he so deservedly receives in the free states, but I fear, on the contrary, that these scarcely sustain him against the injustice he suffers at home. He is frank, manly, unaffected and free from the peculiarities of dis- position that spoil generally the advocates of Emancipation. Seward concluded his letter with the observation that in Ken- tucky "slavery is seen in its least repulsive form. Kentucky is Virginia with the serpent in its youth. In Virginia it is full grown and gorged with the life blood of the Old Dominion." THE TRUE AMERICAN 119 During these eventful and turbulent months Abraham Lin- coln had followed the "bold experiment" in Kentucky closely. It had provoked a broader and more varied discussion of slavery than he had ever known before. The best intellects, the most superb orators of his native state, had been arrayed against one another. Column after column, indeed whole pages, of the Observer had been devoted to the Marshall-Davis debates, and able though moderate antislavery articles by Dr. Bascom, presi- dent of Transylvania, answered by Robert S. Todd's opponent, Colonel Charles C. Moore. The fate of The True American verified a conclusion that had been growing upon Lincoln in recent years, that agitation of the slavery question in southern territory only served to solidify sentiment against even gradual emancipation. A few weeks after the affair at Lexington, Lincoln wrote his first detailed statement of his attitude on slavery: "I hold it to be a paramount duty of us in the free states, due to the Union of the states, and perhaps to liberty itself (paradox though it may seem) to let the slavery of the other states alone; while, on the other hand, I hold it to be equally clear, that we should never knowingly lend ourselves directly or indirectly, to prevent that slavery from dying a natural death— to find new places for it to live in, when it can no longer exist in the old." 26 NINE The Lincolns Visit Lexington On AUGUST 29, 1846, the Lexington Observer & Reporter announced that Abraham Lincoln, son-in-law of state senator Robert S. Todd, had been elected to Congress from Illinois. The result, however, of the recent election throughout the country was far from satisfactory to this stanch Whig organ. "We know that Locofocoism has swept the platter tolerably clean," it observed gloomily; "with the exception of Mr. Lin- coln in Illinois, there is not as much Whig virtue and honesty as was required to save Sodom and Gomorrah." Lincoln had been opposed in his race for Congress by Peter Cartwright, who had defeated him in his first campaign for the legislature, a militant, hard-hitting, Methodist circuit rider, the sworn enemy of slavery and whisky, twenty-four years older than the Whig candidate, and he had found the preacher a most formidable adversary. The canvass had been vigorous and colorful. The supporters of Cartwright called attention to the fact that Lincoln had married into an aristocratic family and that he had stated in a temperance speech at Springfield that drunkards were often as honest, generous, and kindly as THE LINCOLNS VISIT LEXINGTON 121 teetotalers and church members, and sometimes more so. 1 They industriously circulated reports that Lincoln was an infidel, and also that he was a "deist" who believed in God but did not accept the divinity of Jesus Christ nor the inspiration of the Holy Scriptures. As further proof of his irreligious bent of mind they related how Cartwright was preaching one night at a place where Lincoln had made a speech that afternoon and, as the evening service began, the Springfield lawyer had quietly slipped into a pew at the rear of the church and sat listening attentively to his opponent's vehement denunciation of the devil and all his works. Near the end of the sermon the preacher had leaned dramatically across the pulpit and called upon all who expected to go to heaven to rise. All arose except Lincoln. Then Cart- wright asked all who expected to go to hell to rise. Still Lincoln remained seated. Then with a resounding thump the circuit rider smote the lectern with a horny fist. "I have asked all who expect to go to heaven to rise and all who expect to go to hell to rise," he exclaimed, "and now I should like to inquire, where does Mr. Lincoln expect to go?" Lincoln rose slowly to his feet. He was obviously discon- certed by the sudden and pointed inquiry, but in a moment he had recovered himself, and with a twinkle in his deep gray eyes he drawled: "I expect to go to Congress." 2 When the ballots had been counted, Lincoln's majority was 1,511, exceeding the vote that had been cast for Henry Clay two years before by more than 500, but returns from the whole state showed that he was the only Whig candidate for Congress elected in Illinois. 3 A few days later the new congressman-elect wrote the editor of the Illinois Gazette published in Lacon. He said that during the recent campaign he had been aware that "Mr. Cartwright was whispering the charge of infidelity" against him in the "Northern counties of the District." "From the election returns in your county" (Marshall Coun- 122 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS ty and the adjoining county of Woodford being the only coun- ties carried by Cartwright) , Lincoln continued, "being so different from what they are in parts where Mr. Cartwright and I are both well known, I incline to the belief that he has succeeded in deceiving some honest men there," in spite of the fact that "Cartwright, never heard me utter a word in any way indicating my opinions on religious matters, in his life." Lin- coln enclosed a little handbill which he had had printed shortly before the election but had not distributed. It was an answer to the charge that he was an "open scoffer at Christianity. . . . That I am not a member of any Christian Church is true," said Lincoln, "but I have never denied the truth of the Scrip- tures; and I have never spoken with intentional disrespect of religion in general, or of any denomination of Christians in particular." Furthermore, "I do not think I could myself, be brought to support a man for office, whom I knew to be an open enemy of, and scoffer at, religion. ... If, then, I was guilty of such conduct, I should blame no man who should condemn me for it; but I do blame those, whoever they may be, who falsely put such a charge in circulation against me." 4 Lincoln had realized his great ambition. He was to sit beneath the dome of the Capitol that had echoed the voices of Clay, Webster, and Calhoun, with his ancient rival, Stephen A. Douglas. Yet now that the contest was won, he felt little elation over the victory. "Being elected to Congress," he wrote Speed in Kentucky, "though I am very grateful to our friends, for having done it, has not pleased me as much as I expected." 5 During the winter and early spring following his election Lincoln practiced law in desultory fashion and swapped dog- gerel poetry with a friend who lived in another county. He had written some crude and melancholy verses on the occasion of his return to his old home in Indiana during the Clay cam- paign. "I am not at all displeased with your proposal to publish the poetry, or doggerel, or whatever else it may be called, which I sent you," he wrote to his friend Johnston. His name, however, must "be suppressed by all means," for, said he, "I Main Street in Lexington as L 1NUOLN .SAW 11 Slave auction in the courthouse yard From original negative in the Mulligan Collection The home of Roiwri S. Todd, as ii looks ioday THE LINCOLNS VISIT LEXINGTON 123 have not sufficient hope of the verses attracting any favorable notice to tempt me to risk being ridiculed for having written them." 6 Things were unusually dull around Springfield. Upon the declaration of war with Mexico many of the young men had marched away with Baker and Hardin and Shields into the country south of the Rio Grande. Although Lincoln with his party had opposed the declaration of war, now that hostilities had begun he urged vigorous prosecution to an honorable peace in a public address on May 30, 1847. By the middle of October he had completed plans for the journey to Washington. It was arranged that Mrs. Lincoln and the two children should accompany him and that they would stop off at Lexington for a leisurely visit with the Todd relatives. 7 This would be Mary's first visit back home since she left in 1839, and although Robert S. Todd had visited Spring- field, her stepmother and small half brothers and half sisters had never seen her tall, rawboned husband. So early Monday morning, October 25, Congressman Lincoln with his wife and two small boys— Bob, four, and Eddie, a year and a half old- climbed into the stage that carried them overland to St. Louis, where they boarded a steamboat for Louisville. 8 "Mr. Lincoln, the member of Congress elect from this dis- trict," said the Springfield Illinois Weekly Journal of October 28, "has just set out on his way to the city of Washington. His family is with him; they intend to visit their friends and rela- tives in Kentucky before they take up the line of march for the seat of government. Success to our talented member of Congress! He will find many men in Congress who possess twice the good looks, and not half the good sense, of our own representative." As the steamer plowed up the Ohio with the Indiana bank on one side and the wooded shoreline of old Kentucky, dressed in autumn coloring, on the other, Lincoln was among familiar scenes again. Recollections of his early youth must have crowd- 124 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS ed thick upon him: there was Thompson's Landing, where Thomas Lincoln and his little family had crossed the Ohio as they journeyed northward from Rolling Fork to their new home in the wilds of Indiana; here was the broad, sluggish mouth of Anderson Creek, where Lincoln had worked for six dollars a month and board on a ferry belonging to James Tay- lor; and Bates' Landing, where he had earned his first dollar for less than a full day's work when he sculled two travelers and their trunks out to a passing steamer; yonder on the high bank of the Kentucky shore stood the big log house of Squire Samuel Pate, where he had been arrested by John T. Dill, charged with the violation of a ferry privilege, and in the low- ceilinged room that faced the river had been tried and ac- quitted. 9 At the Falls of the Ohio the slow-moving boat passed through the Portland Canal, where Lincoln and his stepbrother, John D. Johnston, had worked as day laborers for a short time in 1827. The little party did not stop in Louisville, although Lin- coln's intimate friend, Joshua Speed, lived near by, but caught the first train east, and as the poky little locomotive puffed up the winding grades toward the Bluegrass, Lincoln could not help marking the contrast between his first visit to Lexington and the present journey. It was a raw, blustery November day when the Lincolns arrived at their destination. All was bustle and expectancy at the Todd home on West Main Street. Mammy Sally hurried Emilie and her two little sisters, Elodie and Katherine, into their crimson merino dresses, white kid boots, and ruffled white muslin aprons. Presently, Mrs. Todd's nephew, Joseph Humphreys, bound- ed up the steps. He had ridden from Frankfort on the same train with the Lincolns without knowing who they were, walk- ing the short distance from the depot while the Todd coachman hunted up the baggage of the guests he had come to meet. "Aunt Betsy," said young Humphreys to Mrs. Todd, "I was never so glad to get off a train in my life. There were two THE LINCOLNS VISIT LEXINGTON 125 lively youngsters on board who kept the whole train in a tur- moil, and their long-legged father, instead of spanking the brats, looked pleased as Punch and sided with and abetted the older one in mischief." Just then he glanced out of the window at the sound of carriage wheels, and there in front of the house was the "long- legged" man and the two "brats." "Good Lord, there they are now," he exclaimed, as he made a hasty exit, and the nephew from Frankfort was seen no more during Mary's visit. 10 Lincoln, wearing a close-fitting cap and heavy ear muffs, got out of the barouche and assisted Mary and the children up the broad stone steps to the door of the wide hall thrown open to receive them. The greetings of that homecoming stamped themselves indelibly upon the memory of little Emilie. The white family stood near the front door with welcoming arms and, in true patriarchal style, our colored contingent filled the rear of the hall to shake hands with the long-absent one and "make a'miration" over the babies. Mary came in first with little Eddie, the baby, in her arms. To my mind she was lovely; clear, sparkling blue eyes, lovely smooth white skin with a faint, wild rose color in her cheeks, and glossy light-brown hair, which fell in soft short curls behind each ear. She was then about twenty-nine years of age. Mr. Lincoln followed her into the hall with his little son, Robert Todd, in his arms. He put the little fellow on the floor, and as he arose, I remember thinking of "Jack and the Bean Stalk," and feared he might be the hungry giant of the story— he was so tall and looked so big with a long, full, black cloak over his shoulders, and he wore a fur cap with ear straps which allowed but little of his face to be seen. Expecting to hear the "fe, fi, fo, fum," I shrank closer to my mother, and tried to hide behind her voluminous skirts. After shaking hands with all the grownups, he turned and, lifting me in his arms, said "So this is Little Sister." His voice and smile banished my fear of the giant. 11 For the next three weeks Abraham Lincoln enjoyed im- mensely the first real vacation of his life. The cotton mills of 126 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Oldham, Todd & Company were in full operation with slave labor at the village of Sandersville on the Georgetown Pike, and Lincoln drove out there frequently with his brother-in- law, Levi Todd, assistant manager and bookkeeper of the con- cern. There were elderly people in Lexington who talked to Lincoln about his great-uncle Thomas. 12 John Keiser, vener- able proprietor of the Bruen House tavern, remembered him and doubtless described the terrific thrashing that Thomas had administered to Peter Warfield in the yard of the Indian Queen nearly forty years before. From such sources Lincoln more than likely heard much about this kinsman, his domestic trou- bles and his ultimate ruin. The days were full of visits to Mary's many relatives who lived in town and in the country. Grandmother Parker, to whom Mary had been deeply devoted since the death of her own mother, still lived in the fine brick mansion on Short Street, next door to the house where Mary was born, and here the Illinois congressman and his wife were always warmly re- ceived. Lincoln was deeply impressed with this quaint, slaveholding old town with its fine estates and elegant mansions such as he had certainly never seen anywhere else. Near the very heart of the city were manor houses set back in landscaped gardens: 13 "Alta Myra," belonging to John R. Cleary; "Babel," the resi- dence of General Leslie Combs; Joel Johnson's "Castle Hag- gin"; Elisha Warfield's "The Meadows"; "Wickliffe House," owned by Robert Wickliffe, and Chief Justice Robertson's "Rokeby Hall." With much leisure on his hands Lincoln now had an op- portunity to study the institution of slavery at close range. In the homes of relatives and friends he saw contented servants, born and reared for generations in the families of their present masters, who served them with unswerving loyalty and devo- tion, and who in turn were held in genuine affection. It was apparent that the servants of the Todd household were privi- leged characters, while the aged Widow Parker was utterly dependent on her three old servants, Ann, Cyrus, and Prudence. THE LINCOLNS VISIT LEXINGTON 127 These Negroes under no circumstances would have accepted freedom from their beloved "white folks." Yet Lincoln could see enough to know that even in Lex- ington slavery had its darker side. Many of the able-bodied white men of the town and county were absent with the army in Mexico. Most of the slaves on the smaller plantations were now under little or no restraint. The pilfering and other law- lessness among the Negroes, resulting from these changed con- ditions, had produced a vague, covert unrest that alarmed the timid and disturbed even the more levelheaded citizens of the community. Cassilly, a slave girl, was under indictment for "mixing an ounce of pounded glass with gravy" and giving it to her master, John Hamilton, and his wife Martha. Another female slave was under sentence of death for having "mixed and mingled a certain deadly poison, to wit, the seed of the Jamestown weed pulverized in certain coffee," which she had given to her mas- ter, Hector P. Lewis, "knowingly, wilfully, feloniously of her malice aforethought, with the evil intent that death should ensue to the said Lewis." 14 On the night of November 7 Mrs. Elizabeth Warren, an aged and highly respected woman, was murdered by persons thought to be slaves, and Mayor Henry offered a reward of $500 for the capture of the perpetrators of the crime. Elizabeth Humphreys told Mary and her husband what had happened to little Alec Todd, then as always Mary's favorite brother. The Todds had hired a slave girl named Celia from the Brands, who had bought her at auction in New Orleans, as a nurse for their small son. However, Elizabeth soon noticed that the little boy would "shrink and hold back" from Celia whenever she touched him. After Mrs. Todd had been in- formed about this by her niece, they "examined the little fel- low's body time & again but never found a mark of any kind or a bruise." One evening when Robert S. Todd and his wife were at- tending a party, Elizabeth sat reading in the back parlor with Alec snuggled contentedly by her side. Celia came in to put 128 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS him to bed, but "he drew back with such a look of horror and fear" that Elizabeth took him away from the girl, who by this time was very angry, put him on the sofa, and said that she would take him to bed when he got sleepy. Upon investigation the household was horrified to learn that the vicious young Negress, when she got the boy to his room, frequently grabbed him "by the feet and held him against the wall with his head down until he was fairly black in the face." Even now old Nelson clenched his fists and gritted his few remaining teeth, while Mammy Sally snorted and rolled her eyes in speechless indignation. 15 The black locust whipping post erected in 1826 had so decayed that it was no longer fit for use, and the county court at a special session "ordered that the three-pronged poplar tree in the Court-House yard immediately North of the Barry mon- ument be and the same is hereby established the public whip- ping-post of this county." 16 The Observer was full of advertisements about runaway slaves. "Joshua," about forty years old, black, heavy set, with a scar on his neck, "who is slow of speech, with a slight choking when agitated and who professes to be a preacher," was being sought by his master. It was supposed that he had gone to Ohio, "where his wife (a free mulatto woman, named Martha Ann Skinner) has lately gone," and a reward of $500 was of- fered for his arrest and confinement in jail. Sam F. Patterson was seeking "a mulatto slave named Anderson who has a rather downcast look when spoken to," and a black boy "named Ned, about twenty-five years old," had run away from his master, Neal McCann. 17 And every time Lincoln picked up the local newspapers he saw the following notices in bold type: Negroes for Sale. 35 negroes in lots to suit purchasers or the whole, consisting of field hands, house servants, a good carriage-driver, hostlers, a black- smith, and women & children of all descriptions. James H. Farish. THE LINCOLNS VISIT LEXINGTON 129 To Planters & Owners of Slaves. Those who have slaves rendered unfit for labor by Yaws, Scrof- ula, Chronic Diarrhea, Negro Consumption, Rheumatism &c, and who wish to dispose of them on reasonable terms will address J. King, No. 29 Campst St., New Orleans. 18 If Lincoln did not already understand the awful import of this last advertisement, his father-in-law, familiar with condi- tions in the Deep South, was able to advise him fully. Many plantations in Louisiana and the other Gulf States were op- erated entirely by hired overseers whose salaries were regulated by the net cash profits of each crop year. The owners of these vast estates seldom visited them more than once or twice a year and took no part whatever in the management of their slaves. Greed, unrestrained by the humanitarian impulses that usually came from direct contact between the bondman and his master, had developed a ghastly practice more or less preva- lent in those sections. Old, broken-down Negroes, suffering from hopelessly chronic diseases, were purchased for a few dollars apiece in Kentucky and other border states, shipped south, and furiously worked under the lash until they literally fell in their tracks and died in the muddy ditches of the rice fields. 19 A South Carolina periodical carried the following item: OVERSEERS READ THIS! It will be remembered by the overseers of Edgefield, that Col. M. Frazer has offered a fine English lever watch as a reward to the overseer (working not less than 10 slaves) who will report the best managed plantation, largest crop per head of cotton, corn, wheat, and pork for the present season. Col. Frazer has just returned from the North and laid before us this elegant prize. Remember then, that the prize is now fairly upon the stake and that the longest pole knocks down the persimmon. Whip! Whip! Hurrah!!! 20 Lincoln, however, did not need to depend on what he read or heard in Lexington about the iniquity of slavery, for the evidences of it were all about him. The slave jail of W. A. Pullum, an extensive Negro dealer, stood in plain view of 130 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS ''Grandma" Parker's home and only a few steps from her side porch. The front of the establishment was a two-story brick house just around the corner on Broadway. The trader and his family lived upstairs. The downstairs consisted of a large double room furnished with tables and chairs, with a liquor bar in one end and a fireplace in the other, where dealers, drivers, and others connected with the slave traffic congregated, and where Negroes in cold weather were exhibited to prospec- tive buyers. In the yard at the rear of the building were rows of slave pens, eight feet square, seven feet high, constructed on damp brick floors covered with vermin-infested straw, with tiny barred windows near the roof and heavy, rivet-studded, iron-grated doors. From the terrace of the Parker lawn Abraham Lincoln could look down over the spiked palings that separated the Pullum property from Mechanics Alley into the yard of the slave jail, and from the "private" whipping post that stood in one cor- ner he could hear those cries which another visitor to Lexington years before had characterized as "the knell of Kentucky lib- erty." Megowan's jail stood at the corner of Short and Mulberry (now Limestone) streets, one block east of the courthouse— a grim-looking structure with high massive walls, where most of the runaways, Negroes awaiting execution, and those about to be sold south for incorrigibility were confined. It is impossible, of course, to determine the number of slaves that were sold at auction during these weeks of Lincoln's visit in Lexington. Not many days, however, went by without the sale of one or more Negroes at public outcry on Cheapside or at the block in the courthouse yard, and Saturdays and court days were the occasions when most of these auctions took place. The Bluegrass metropolis would soon become the largest slave market in Kentucky. Court day was a peculiar and a picturesque institution in central Kentucky. On the second Monday in each month the THE LINCOLNS VISIT LEXINGTON 131 justices of the peace, who constituted the county court, assem- bled at the historic old edifice on the public square in Lex- ington to transact the people's business. But the crowd that thronged Cheapside on such days from dawn to dusk had little or no interest in the deliberations of the squires around the long pine table in the courthouse. By the custom of years this was a time when the rural folk of Fayette and neighboring counties took a day off and came to town to shop and trade, drink with their friends, swap horses, see the sights, and enjoy themselves, each according to his own fancy. Cheapside had been the public meeting place since the town of Lexington was born, and here on court day junk dealers, planters, traders, and those nondescripts called "poor whites" assembled at an early hour with livestock of every kind and description and sundry other articles for barter and sale. By noontime one unfamiliar with this institution, stand- ing at the second-story window of the courthouse, looked down upon a strange and novel spectacle: a bit of grotesque yet colorful pageantry which only the gregarious nature of the Kentuckian could have produced. Old, buck-kneed plug horses, with now and then a thor- oughbred or blooded saddle nag; shaggy mules with cockleburs in their tails; cows and calves; sway-backed brood mares with wobbly, spindle-legged colts at their heels; Negro men, women, half-grown boys and girls, even children: all were being offered for sale under the hammers of shrill-voiced auctioneers. Little groups of men squatted on the low wooden benches near the iron fence that ran along the edge of the courthouse yard, puffing their pipes, chewing tobacco, whittling, and swapping stories. Others gathered around the nostrum vender, gaudily dressed in a stovepipe hat, brocaded waistcoat, with bushy hair falling over the greasy velvet collar of his knee-length dress coat, who glibly proclaimed the marvelous virtues of "Dr. Sherman's All-Healing Balsam," "Old Sachem Bitters," or "Hart's Vegetable Compound for Epileptic Fits." Farmer boys in their best breeches of homespun jean stood in creaking 132 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS "Sunday" brogan shoes, listening to the blind, toothless men- dicant who sat on a curbstone with a tin cup about his neck and sang plaintive ballads in a cracked, quavering voice to the halting accompaniment of his squeaky fiddle. Cheapside on court day was democracy in the raw. Men who moved in vastly different social orbits on other days met here on terms of perfect equality. Before the polished bars of the tippling houses he whom the Negroes called "pore white trash" sipped his apple brandy toddy shoulder to shoulder with the julep-drinking country gentleman in his broad-brimmed hat and whipcord riding breeches tucked into soft leather boots, and the town dandy clad in broadcloth pantaloons, swal- low-tailed coat, silk ruffled shirt, and white beaver hat. Here the talk was free and easy. The weather, crops, politics, and horses were discussed, and every man had his say. 21 Such was the scene that Lincoln must have witnessed on Monday, November 15, 1847. On that day five slaves were sold to satisfy a judgment that Robert S. Todd and one of his partners had obtained against their owner, John F. Leavy, which directed "that the negroes, viz: Nathaniel, Ned, Dick, Emily, & Nelly, alias Molley be sold at the court-house door in Lexington to the highest bidder." 22 During the entire period of Lincoln's stay in Lexington, Henry Clay was at "Ashland," and Mary took her husband to see him. Though his son, Henry Clay, Jr., had fallen on a Mexican battlefield, the old man bore his sorrow with calm fortitude. Even in the midst of his bereavement the Sage of Ashland pondered the grave questions that then vexed his country. On November 3 the Observer announced that on Saturday, November 13, at the courthouse Clay would deliver a speech on the conduct of the Mexican War. In the Singleton Will case a few days before, Lincoln was very likely present during Clay's masterly argument which consumed more than three THE LINCOLNS VISIT LEXINGTON 133 hours, and now he had an opportunity to hear the famous orator in his favorite role from the hustings. By Friday evening the taverns were packed with visitors, many of whom, like Morton McMichael, editor of the Phila- delphia North American, had come hundreds of miles to hear Clay's address. Next morning the crowd was so large, in spite of the rain, that the meeting was adjourned to a large brick structure on Water Street, known as the Lower Market-House, where a temporary platform had been erected in one end of the building. Here, with Judge George Robertson, the chair- man, seated on one side, and Robert S. Todd, vice-chairman, on the other, before an audience that contained representatives from a majority of the states of the Union, Henry Clay de- livered one of the ablest and most statesmanlike addresses of his long career. No ordinary occasion would have drawn me from the retirement in which I live [began Mr. Clay] ; but whilst a single pulsation of the human heart remains, it should, if necessary, be dedicated to the service of one's country. ... I have come here with no purpose to attempt to make a fine speech, or any ambitious oratorical dis- play. I have brought with me no rhetorical bouquets to throw into this assembly. In the circle of the year, autumn has come, and the season of flowers has passed away. In the progress of years, my springtime has gone by, and I too am in the autumn of life, and feel the frost of age. My desire and aim are to address you, earnestly, calmly, seriously and plainly, upon the grave and momentous sub- jects which have brought us together. And I am most solicitous that not a solitary word may fall from me, offensive to any party or person in the whole extent of the Union. The speaker argued at length that the Mexican War would have been averted had not General Taylor been ordered "to transport his cannon, and to plant them in a warlike attitude, opposite Matamoras, on the east bank of the Rio Bravo within the very disputed district" then the subject of diplomatic ne- gotiation. "This is no war of defense," exclaimed Clay, "but 134 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS one unnecessary and of offensive aggression. It is Mexico that is defending her firesides, her castles and her altars, not we. But," said he, "without indulging in an unnecessary restrospect and useless reproaches in the past, all hearts and heads should unite in the patriotic effort to bring it to a satisfactory close. . . . This is the important subject upon which I desire to consult and to commune with you." The objects and purposes of the war had never been de- fined, Clay said, by either Congress or President Polk. No one knew what they were, nor when they might be achieved. "It is the duty of Congress, by some deliberate and authentic act," continued the speaker, "to declare for what objects the present war shall be longer prosecuted." What should they be? Should this war be waged for the purpose of conquering and annexing Mexico, "in all its boundless extent to the United States? Does any considerate man believe it possible that two such immense countries, with territories of nearly equal extent, with popu- lation so incongruous, so different in race, in language, in religion and in laws, could be blended together in one har- monious mass and happily governed by one common authority?" Should any territory be wrested from Mexico by way of in- demnity for the purpose of introducing slavery into it? My opinions on the subject of slavery are well known [said Clay] . They have the merit, if it be one, of consistency, uniformity and long duration. I have ever regarded slavery as a great evil, a wrong, for the present I fear, an irremedial wrong to its unfortunate victims. I should rejoice if not a single slave breathed the air or was within the limits of our country. Among the resolutions which it is my intent to present for your consideration at the conclusion of the address one proposes in your behalf and mine, to disavow, in the most positive manner, any desire on our part to acquire any foreign territory whatever for the purpose of introducing slavery into it. The speaker referred at length to the American Coloniza- tion Society— its aims, its hopes, its failures— and the gloomy prospects for the end of slavery for generations yet to come. THE LINCOLNS VISIT LEXINGTON 135 "But I forbear," he said in closing; "I will no longer trespass upon your patience or further tax my own voice, impaired by a speech of more than three hours' duration which professional duty required me to make only a few days ago." At the conclusion of the two-and-a-half-hour speech a series of resolutions was "almost unanimously" adopted by which the meeting went on record "that the immediate occasion of hos- tilities" was caused by the removal of General Taylor's army into "territory then under the jurisdiction of Mexico and in- habited by its citizens," and that "we do positively and em- phatically disclaim and disavow any wish or desire on our part, to acquire any foreign territory whatever, for the purpose of propagating slavery or introducing slaves from the United States into such foreign territory." Gallant Harry had again captivated his audience. "It seems that his friends never get tired of listening to his rich voice and his uncommon good sense," said the Observer. "The speaker himself scarcely seemed to be an old man." 23 The meeting at the Lower Market-House was more than an ordinary event in Lincoln's life. Though thirty-eight years of age and about to enter the national forum himself, he had heard only one other speaker of nationwide renown. 24 Clay's speech wholly lacked oratorical frills, but the charm of its de- livery and its "uncommon good sense" impressed Lincoln deep- ly as he resumed his browsing in the Todd library. Poking about in these well-stocked bookcases was one of his chief diversions. Absorbed in some interesting volume, he would sit for hours in the rear parlor or in the passageway upstairs where some of the books were kept, wholly oblivious of the romping and chatter of Bob and Emilie and the other little Todds. 25 The Todd books were a varied assortment. Among the several hundred items there was a copy of The Messages of the Presidents, Gibbon's History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Prentice's Life of Henry Clay in two volumes, a set of Shakespeare in eight volumes, the Life of Oliver Cromwell, the poems of Robert Burns, the Life of 136 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Napoleon, Byron's Don Juan, Pope in five volumes, and Niles' Register in fifty-eight volumes. 26 But the book that Lincoln read more than all the rest was a volume of verse entitled: Elegant Extracts, or Useful and Entertaining Passages from the Best English Authors and Trans- lations, and he marked or underscored heavily with a lead pencil such of these poems, or excerpts from them, as particu- larly struck his fancy. 27 He committed Bryant's Thanatopsis to memory and repeated it to the members of the Todd house- hold. While reading the volume he checked the familiar quo- tation from Pope: Know then thyself, presume not God to scan; The proper study of Mankind is man. He made marginal notations opposite a passage from Blair's The Grave: The last end Of the good man is peace. How calm his exit. Night dews fall not more gently to the ground, Nor weary, worn-out winds expire so soft. and Cowper's lines from Charity dealing with slavery: But Ah! What wish can prosper, or what prayer For merchants rich in cargoes of despair, Who drive a loathsome traffic, gauge and span, And buy the muscles and the bones of man? The tender ties of father, husband, friend, All bonds of nature in that moment end; And each endures, while yet he draws his breath, A stroke as fatal as the scythe of death. He was particularly impressed with Cowper's poem, On Receipt of My Mother's Picture, and drew a hand with the index finger pointing to the stanza: Oh that those lips had language! Life has pass'd With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine— thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me. THE LINCOLNS VISIT LEXINGTON 137 Lincoln's approval of certain portions of a poem entitled, Love of Fame: A dearth of words, a woman need not fear; But 'tis a task indeed to learn to hear. Doubly like Echo sound is her delight, And the last word is her eternal right. Is't not enough plagues, wars and famines rise To lash our crimes, but must our wives be wise? probably subjected him to rather sharp badinage from Mary, but if so, she may have been somewhat mollified by another passage that he had marked which, although enumerating cer- tain feminine frailties, has an assuaging sentiment in the con- cluding lines: O, Woman! in our hours of ease Uncertain, coy and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow A ministering angel thou! Lincoln also spent much time about the courthouse and the public square, just as he did back home. The presiding judge, Richard A. Buckner, intimate friend of Robert S. Todd, and many of the lawyers had their offices in the low brick buildings on the east side of the courthouse known as "Jordan's Row," and here Lincoln loafed, swapped stories, and talked politics with Judge Buckner, Judge Robertson, George B. Kin- kead, his wife's cousins, John C. Breckinridge and Charles D. Carr, John B. Huston, and other members of the local bar. Judge Kinkead later remembered two stories which Lincoln had told about himself. In the fall of 1841 Lincoln had visited Joshua F. Speed at "Farmington," the old Speed plantation near Louisville. Almost every day he walked into town and sat in the office of Joshua's older brother James, reading his books and talking over his studies and aspirations with the courtly, scholarly lawyer. 138 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Late one evening, as Lincoln trudged back to "Farming- ton," three thugs sprang from a dark alley, and one of them flourished a long, keen pruning knife that glittered ominously in the moonlight. Making passes extremely close to Lincoln's long, bony neck, the highwayman queried, "Can you lend me $5.00 on that?" Lincoln hastily reached for the only bill he had in his pocket: "There's $10.00 neighbor," he replied; "now put up your scythe." 28 Joshua Speed was then ardently courting comely, black-eyed Fanny Henning, who lived with a devoted uncle, John William- son, on a nearby farm. Speed was always inventing excuses to make apparently casual calls at Uncle John's residence, and one day, after having been there once, he took Lincoln on the cars to Lexington— his first visit here— in order to have an ex- cuse to drop in again that evening on his way back home. Speed complained bitterly that he and Fanny could never find themselves outside the presence of Uncle John— a violent Whig who insisted on talking politics by the hour with Speed, who was also affiliated with that party. Finally Lincoln thought up a scheme which might give Speed his chance with Fanny. That night, when they reached the Williamson home, Lincoln, then having completed his fourth term as a Whig member of the Illinois legislature, pretended to be a Democrat and oc- cupied the old gentleman so completely in argument that the two young people were permitted to enjoy a rare, uninter- rupted evening which went far toward their early engagement. 29 Public attention was now focused once more upon the ad- venturous editor of The True American. At the first call to arms against Mexico, Cassius M. Clay had promptly dropped his feud with the slave power and shouldered a musket as a private in that organization of glorious traditions, the Lex- ington Light Infantry, whose captain he had been in former days. Before leaving for the front, however, the company had assembled in the courthouse yard, and on the spot where he had recently been denounced as a "damned nigger agitator" A LARGE NUMBER £ NEGROES 4 WANTED! The undersigned wishes to purchase throughout the year, a large number of Bmm A HEALTH? OF BOTH SEXES. FOR which the HIGHEST PRICE IN CASH will be paid at his Jail, opposite the County Jail, Short Street, Lexington, Ky., where ei- ther himself or his Ageuts L. C. & A. 0. Robards, at all times may be found. Any letters addressed to me concerning negroes, shall have prompt attention. Dec. 16-25 6mo. R. W. LUCAS. Nigger Trader" advertisement. Lexington Observer & Reporter Slave shackles "Nigger Trader" advertisement Lex ingt on O b server & Reporter Negroes Wanted. THE undersigned having entered into Partnership under the firm of HOBTHCITTr, MARSHALL * CO., For the purpose of dealing in Slave*, and will trans* act business at the house lately occupied by Joe. H . NoBTBcrrr.on East Main Street, Le Kington, nearly opposite the Woolen Factory of Messrs. Thompson & Van Dalsem. They wish to purchase a large number of NEGROES, OF BOTH SEXES, And will pay the highest prices offered in the mar- ket. Persons at a distance having Negroes for sale, and finding it inconvedient to bring them to the city, will please address us by mail. JOSEPH H. NORTHCUTT. SILAS MARSHALL. Oct.21-9-tf GEORGE S. MARSHALL THE LINCOLNS VISIT LEXINGTON 139 he was unanimously chosen to lead the Old Infantry into action. On January 23, 1846, Captain Clay and a handful of men had been surrounded and captured at Encarnacion by three thousand Mexican cavalry. Following imprisonment of many months the survivors were exchanged, and most of them, ex- cept Captain Clay and a few others, had already returned home. Sentiment toward the captain of the Old Infantry, as Lincoln found, along Jordan's Row and in the community generally had undergone a change since that day in August two years before, when the mob had raided the office of The True Amer- ican. A week before Lincoln's arrival in Lexington a card had been published in the Observer, signed by five of Captain Clay's men, in which they praised the courage and self-sacrifice of their leader. They related how after their capture, when an order had been given for the massacre of the American soldiers, Clay had asked that the privates be spared. With the cocked pistol of a Mexican major at his breast the captain had looked him fearlessly in the eye and exclaimed: "Kill me— kill the officers, but spare the men!" Then on the weary journey to Mexico City, as the ragged, barefoot soldiers were marching forty miles a day over the rough mountain trails, Clay had made his exhausted men take turns riding his own mule, while he trudged grimly behind on foot. During the long confine- ment he had tenderly nursed the sick and had sold his mule, buffalo rug, watch, and all his wearing apparel except the tat- tered uniform on his back to buy medicine and supplies for his soldiers. 30 And now, as Lincoln's vacation came to an end, elaborate preparations were being made to receive the returning hero, then on his way back home. His old friend, Robert S. Todd, had been selected to give the address of welcome, 31 and the impulsive, warmhearted Colonel Jesse Bayles, forgetting that he had been one of the committee of sixty who stormed the office of The True American, was to be the grand marshal at this event of ceremony and felicitation. 140 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS November days were drawing to a close. Senator Crittenden and other members of the Kentucky delegation were starting to Washington for the opening of Congress. On Thanksgiving Day, Congressman Lincoln heard the great preacher-orator, Dr. Robert J. Breckinridge, whose philippics on slavery had so often appeared in the columns of the Observer. Sitting there in the quaint, dim old Presbyterian Church, Lincoln did not know how much he would come to rely on this plumed Cru- sader of the Cloth in those anxious days of the future when the nation's life hung in the balance. Then, on the afternoon of that day, the Lincolns said good-by to Lexington and with their two little boys boarded the stage for Maysville, where they would take a steamboat up the Ohio on their journey to Washington. TEN Widow Sprigg and Buena Vista CONGRESSMAN Lincoln and his family arrived in Wash- ington late Thursday evening, December 2, and obtained tem- porary lodging at Brown's Hotel. 1 In a few days they moved over to the boardinghouse of Mrs. Ann G. Sprigg in Carroll Row on Capitol Hill. On Monday, December 6, the Thirtieth Congress convened with the "lone Whig" from Illinois in his seat. By the time the House had organized, the new congressman was in correspondence with his law partner back in Springfield, closing a letter to Herndon with the jocular remark: "As you are all so anxious for me to distinguish myself, I have con- cluded to do so, before long." 2 Lincoln had never accepted the repeated declaration of President Polk that the first blood of the war with Mexico had been shed on American soil, and Clay's address at Lexington had convinced him that such was not the case. This speech had stimulated his interest in the political aspect of the war, and he lost no time in making inquiry as to the exact manner of its origin. The personal allusion in his letter to Herndon evidently referred to the now 142 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS famous "spot" resolutions which he introduced in the House on December 22 and to his speech in support of them several weeks later. In presenting these resolutions the Illinois representative called upon the President to name the "spot" where American blood was first shed and to say whether this spot was not within the territory wrested from Spain by the revolutionary govern- ment of Mexico. Certain portions of the speech, while couched in Lincoln's own lucid and somewhat droll phraseology, strong- ly resembled the "13th of November" address of Henry Clay. 3 Early in the new year the Sage of Ashland arrived in Wash- ington to argue an important case before the Supreme Court. On the evening of January 18, before an immense crowd that packed the hall of the House of Representatives, he presided over the annual meeting of the American Colonization Society, and Lincoln had a rare opportunity to hear an impressive ex- temporaneous speech, where Clay always appeared to such excellent advantage. The speaker recalled that he had been one of a small group of men who founded the society more than thirty years before. He spoke of the high ideals of the organization, of its achieve- ments in the face of almost unsurmountable difficulties, and of the grave responsibilities of the future. He related, in the midst of hearty applause, how a gentleman who recently died in Alabama, a stranger to him, had left him twenty-five or thirty slaves under his will, and how he had induced twenty-three of them to go to Liberia, whither they had just embarked from New Orleans. With deep emotion which he could not wholly restrain, Clay said in closing that this was the last occasion in "all human probability" that he would ever have to address the society. 4 Then on Lincoln's birthday, Saturday, February 12, Clay argued the case of William Houston et al. v. the City Bank of New Orleans in the Supreme Courtroom that was "crowded almost to suffocation." Mrs. Lincoln and the children remained in Washington through the winter, but returned to Lexington in the early WIDOW SPRIGG AND BUENA VISTA 143 spring of 1848. At their Grandfather Todd's comfortable resi- dence on West Main and out at "Buena Vista" on the Leestown Pike, Robert and little Eddie, with small pickaninnies to do their bidding, found much in contrast to the cramped quarters at Widow Sprigg's boardinghouse. The Todd summer home was a tall, rambling frame house surrounded by large locust trees, situated on a beautiful knoll a quarter of a mile from the highway. It then had a double portico in front and a long porch on the side that connected two stone slave cabins with the main portion of the dwelling. A tiny brook meandered from a stone springhouse through the rolling woodland at the foot of the knoll, and from the porticoes the view was magni- ficent. The "lone Whig" and his wife were regular correspondents, and one of the letters that he wrote her ran as follows: Washington, April 16, 1848. Dear Mary: In this troublesome world, we are never quite satisfied. When you were here, I thought you hindered me some in attending to business; but now, having nothing but business— no variety— it has grown exceedingly tasteless to me. I hate to sit down and direct documents, and I hate to stay in this old room by myself. You know I told you in last Sunday's letter, I was going to make a little speech during the week; but the week has passed away without my getting a chance to do so; and now my interest in the subject has passed away too. Your second and third letters have been received since I wrote before. Dear Eddy thinks father is "gone tapila" Has any further discovery been made as to the breaking into your grand- mother's house? If I were she, I would not remain there alone. You mention that your uncle John Parker is likely to be at Lex- ington. Don't forget to present him my very kindest regards. I went yesterday to hunt the little plaid stockings as you wished; but found that McKnight has quit business, and Allen had not a single pair of the description you give, and only one plaid pair of any sort that I thought would fit "Eddy's dear little feet." I have a notion to make another trial to-morrow morning. If I could get them, I have an excellent chance of sending them. Mr. Warrick Tunstall, of St. Louis is here. He is to leave early this week, and 144 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS to go by Lexington. He says he knows you, and will call to see you; and he voluntarily asked, if I had not some package to send to you. I wish you would enjoy yourself in every possible way; but is there no danger of wounding the feelings of your good father, by being so openly intimate with the Wickliffe family? Mrs. Broome has not removed yet; but she thinks of doing so to-morrow. All the house— or rather, all with whom you were on decided good terms— send their love to you. The others say nothing. Very soon after you went away, I got what I think a very pretty set of shirt-bosom studs— modest little ones, jet, set in gold, only costing 50 cents a piece, or 1.50 for the whole. Suppose you do not prefix the "Hon" to the address on your letters to me any more. I like the letters very much, but I would rather they should not have that upon them. It is not necessary, as I suppose you have thought, to have them to come free. And you are entirely free from head-ache? That is good— good- considering it is the first spring you have been free from it since we were acquainted. I am afraid you will get so well, and fat, and young, as to be wanting to marry again. Tell Louisa I want her to watch you a little for me. Get weighed, and write me how much you weigh. I did not get rid of the impression of that foolish dream about dear Bobby, till I got your letter written the same day. What did he and Eddy think of the little letters father sent them? Dont let the blessed fellows forget father. A day or two ago Mr. Strong, here in Congress, said to me that Matilda would visit here within two or three weeks. Suppose you write her a letter, and enclose it in one of mine; and if she comes I will deliver it to her, and if she does not, I will send it to her. Most affectionately A. Lincoln 5 And on a warm May evening, by her window that opened into the garden filled with lilacs and honeysuckle, Mary scrib- bled a long, newsy letter to her husband: Lexington, May , 48. My Dear Husband— You will think indeed, that old age has set its seal, upon my humble self, that in few or none of my letters, I can remember the WIDOW SPRIGG AND BUENA VISTA 145 day of the month. I must confess it is one of my peculiarities; I feel wearied & tired enough to know that this is Saturday night, our babies are asleep, and as Aunt Maria B. is coming in for me tomorrow morning, I think the chances will be rather dull that I should answer your last letter to-morrow. I have just received a letter from Frances W., it related in an especial manner to the box, I had desired her to send, she thinks with you (as good persons generally agree) that it would cost more than it would come to, and it might be lost on the road. I rather expect she has examined the specified articles, and thinks, as Levi says, they are hard bargains. But it takes so many changes to do children, particularly in sum- mer, that I thought it might save me a few stitches. I think I will write her a few lines this evening, directing her not to send them. She says Willie is just recovering from another spell of sickness, Mary or none of them were well. Springfield, she reports as dull as usual— Uncle S. was to leave there on yesterday for Ky. Our little Eddy, has recovered from his little spell of sickness- Dear boy, I must tell you a little story about him. Boby in his wanderings to day, came across in a yard, a little kitten, your hobby,® he says he asked a man for it; he brought it triumphantly to the house; so soon as Eddy spied it, his tenderness, broke forth, he made them bring it water, fed it with bread himself, with his own dear hands, he was a delighted little creature over it; in the midst of his happiness Ma came in, she, you must know dislikes the whole cat race. I thought in a very unfeeling manner, she ordered the servant near, to throw it out, which of course was done,— Ed- screaming & protesting loudly against the proceedings, she never appeared to mind his screams, which were long Sc loud, I assure you. Tis unusual for her now a days, to do any thing quite so striking, she is very obliging & accommodating, but if she thought any of us, were on her hands again, I believe she would be worse than ever. In the next moment she appeared in a good humor, I know she did not intend to offend me. By the way, she has just sent me up a glass of ice cream, for which this warm evening, I am duly grateful. The country is so delightful I am going to spend two or three weeks out there, it will doubtless benefit the children. Grandma has re- ceived a letter from Uncle James Parker of Miss, saying he & his family would be up by the twenty fifth of June, would remain here some little time & go on to Philadelphia to take their oldest daugh- ter there to school. I believe it would be a good chance for me to 146 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS pack up & accompany them. You know I am so fond of sight-seeing, & I did not get to New York or Boston, or travel the lake route. But perhaps, dear husband, like the irresistible Col. Mc. cannot do without his wife next winter, and must needs take her with him again— I expect you would cry aloud against it. How much, I wish instead of writing, we were together this evening, I feel very sad away from you. Ma 8c myself rode out to Mr. Bell's splendid place this afternoon, to return a call, the house and grounds are mag- nificent. Frances W. would have died over their rare exotics. It is growing late, these summer eves are short, I expect my long scrawls, for truly such they are, weary you greatly— if you come on, in July or August / will take you to the springs. Patty Webb's school in S— closes the first of July, I expect Mr. Webb, will come on for her, I must go down about that time & carry on quite a flirtation, you know we always had a penchant that way. I must bid you good night. Do not fear the children, have forgotten you, I was only jesting— even E— eyes brighten at the mention of your name. My love to all— Truly yours M. L. 7 Lincoln did not forget to provide his family with funds, even though under the circumstances they were at practically no expense. Washington, May 24, 1848. My dear wife: Enclosed is the draft as I promised you in my letter of sunday. It is drawn in favor of your father, and I doubt not, he will give you the money for it at once. I write this letter in the post-office, surrounded by men and noise, which, together with the fact that there is nothing new, makes me write so short a letter. Affectionately A. Lincoln 8 Mary's letters from Lexington were full of local happenings, interesting to the lonely man at the Widow Sprigg's. Thieves had broken into "Grandma" Parker's residence and had stolen a gold watch and a quantity of monogrammed silverware. Mrs. Parker had offered a reward of a hundred dollars for their de- tection. 9 "Has any further discovery been made as to the WIDOW SPRIGG AND BUENA VISTA 147 breaking into your grand-mother's house?" wrote Lincoln. "If I were she, I would not remain there alone." 10 Cassius M. Clay on his return from Mexico had renewed warfare on his old enemies by suing the leaders of the committee of sixty for damages to his printing press and, upon a change of venue to Jessamine County, was awarded judgment for $2,500. 11 Henry Clay, having been defeated in the Philadelphia convention by General Taylor, was being urged to stand for election to the Senate, and John J. Crittenden had resigned his seat in that body to become the Whig candidate for governor of Kentucky. Another letter from Lincoln to his wife during these months has been preserved: Washington, July 2, 1848. My dear wife: Your letter of last sunday came last night. On that day (sunday) I wrote the principal part of a letter to you, but did not finish it, or send it till tuesday, when I had provided a draft for $100 which I sent in it. It is now probable that on that day (tuesday) you started to Shelbyville; so that when the money reaches Lexington, you will not be there. Before leaving, did you make any provision about letters that might come to Lexington for you? Write me whether you got the draft, if you shall not have already done so, when this reaches you. Give my kindest regards to your uncle John, and all the family. Thinking of them reminds me that I saw your acquaintance, Newton, of Arkansas, at the Philadelphia Conven- tion. We had but a single interview, and that was so brief, and in so great a multitude of strange faces, that I am quite sure I should not recognize him, if I were to meet him again. He was a sort of Trinity, three in one, having the right, in his own person, to cast the three votes of Arkansas. Two or three days ago I sent your uncle John, and a few of our other friends each a copy of the speech I mentioned in my last letter; but I did not send any to you, think- ing you would be on the road here, before it would reach you. I send you one now. Last Wednesday, P. H. Hood & Co., dunned me for a little bill of $5.38 cents, and Walter Harper & Co, another for $8.50 cents, for goods which they say you bought. I hesitated to pay them, because my recollection is that you told me when you 148 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS went away, there was nothing left unpaid. Mention in your next letter whether they are right. At some length the letter ran along in chatty fashion. The Richardsons had a new baby. Interest in the Saturday night concerts on the Capitol grounds was dwindling. Two girls that he and Mrs. Lincoln had seen at the exhibition of the Ethiopian Serenaders were still in Washington. . . . And then closes: I have had no letter from home, since I wrote you before, ex- cept short business letters, which have no interest for you. By the way, you do not intend to do without a girl, because the one you had has left you? Get another as soon as you can to take charge of the dear codgers. Father expected to see you all sooner; but let it pass; stay as long as you please, and come when you please. Kiss and love the dear rascals. Affectionately A. Lincoln 12 Lincoln's course in the Mexican War was unpopular with many of his constituents back home. Herndon gloomily re- ported extensive defections in the Whig ranks and severely criticized the party's attitude on slavery. Lincoln suggested that he "gather up all the shrewd wild boys about town" and organize a "Rough & Ready" club for General Taylor. "Let every one play the part he can play best," he advised; "some speak, some sing, and all hollow." 13 But Herndon wrote back complaining of certain "old fos- sils in the party who are constantly keeping the young men down," to which his partner on July 10, 1848, responded in a long anxious letter filled with homely philosophy. Herndon's bitterness was "exceedingly painful" to him. "The way for a young man to rise, is to improve himself every way he can, never suspecting that any body wishes to hinder him." Lincoln predicted that by taking his advice the junior partner would achieve a position among the people "far above any I have ever been able to reach, in their admiration." 14 Next day Lincoln received a bright, gossipy letter from WIDOW SPRIG G AND BUENA VISTA 149 Herndon in which there was mention of "kissing a pretty girl." Much relieved that his young associate had recovered his spirits, the "lone Whig" from his desk in the House scribbled a hasty reply in similar vein: Washington, July 11, 1848. Dear William: Yours of the 3rd. is this moment received; and I hardly need say, it gives unalloyed pleasure. I now almost regret writing the serious, long faced letter, I wrote yesterday; but let the past as nothing be. Go it while you're young! I write this in the confusion of the H.R, and with several other things to attend to. I will send you about eight different speeches this evening; and as to kissing a pretty girl, [I] know one very pretty one, but I guess she wont let me kiss her. 15 Yours forever A. Lincoln 16 The long table in Widow Sprigg's dining room was always crowded. Many of the boarders were members of Congress, and all of these were Whigs. Even then the issue of slavery had begun to divide the party. The Wilmot Proviso was a topic of frequent conversation— sometimes, argued hotly, with Congressmen John Dickey of Pennsylvania and Patrick W. Tompkins of Mississippi the chief participants. Dr. Samuel C. Busey, one of the boarders, remembered that Lincoln "always seemed anxious to avoid giving offense to anybody." When the conversation became heated or even "un- pleasantly contentious" he would step in and guide it skillfully into other channels or interrupt with an anecdote that pro- duced such hearty and general laughter that the parties involved would "either separate in good humor or continue conversation free from discord." The amiable disposition of the Illinois congressman made him exceedingly popular with everybody. He was fond of bowling and there was an alley near the boardinghouse. By no means adept at the game, he played with great zest and 150 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS spirit, accepting success or defeat with "like good nature and humor." Whenever it was known that Lincoln was going to play, the alley was crowded with persons eager to hear his inexhaustible fund of stories and ludicrous remarks. 17 One morning Congressman Lincoln opened his Illinois Jour- nal, and the following item met his eye: Denton Offutt, The Horse Tamer— "This singular personage," says a late Nashville paper, "has been in this city for several days, and of his wonderful skill in the management and taming of horses hundreds can testify. "A few experiments that I saw with my own eyes would satisfy the most incredulous. A few days since, in front of the Union Hall, a strange and wild horse, the property of Dr. Hall, of Gallatin, was presented to him for a trial of his skill, and in less than ten minutes, he made him gentle as a dog, the horse following him wherever he went. The same horse would not permit an umbrella to be hoisted over him, but in the hands of Offutt, he soon became as familiar to an umbrella as to a bridle, and would stand perfectly still, while the umbrella was not only hoisted, but rattled about his head, and [he was] struck on the face with it. "Several other cases, equally as remarkable, I could state, but the above will suffice. The great beauty of the art is its simplicity, and the short time it takes him to communicate it to others." 18 It had been sixteen years since Lincoln had heard from the little trader from Hickman Creek— since he had said good-by to him that afternoon as he left New Salem, defeated and dis- couraged. Offutt, empty of pocket, had returned to his native Blue- grass region. Brother Otho owned a fine farm in the fertile Elkhorn Valley of Fayette County. Brother Sam, a big hemp buyer, lived on his plantation of 220 acres in the adjoining county of Bourbon. For the next eight years Denton and his nephew Joe, son of brother Tilghman, handled livestock for Otho and Sam, taking large droves of mules for the latter down WIDOW SPRIGG AND BUENA VISTA 151 to Natchez. Saddle horses were Otho's specialty, and Denton and Joe trained them, got them ready for the eastern market, and sold them in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Balti- more. Frequently they took mules, cattle, and hogs to New Orleans for Tilghman, but these trips now were made in com- parative luxury, the river freighter having displaced the flatboat. In the spring of 1842 the hemp market crashed, leaving Sam Offutt irretrievably ruined. He had borrowed large sums from Otho, who was also surety on many of his other debts. Then on August 16, 1842, Otho died suddenly. Parker Otwell was appointed administrator, and he and Denton, who was still a bachelor living with Otho, proceeded under the orders of the court to wind up the decedent's estate. 19 A few months later Sam's creditors closed in upon him, contending that he was "insolvent" and "was about to dispose of his personal property." In support of these allegations Asa Barnett testified that Sam "kept his negroes out of sight, he got them to stay in a hole under the house, and run about at night for exercise" from April to August, when "he started them off to Missouri privately after night, saying if he did not get them off his creditors would get them." Then, having re- moved his Negroes and much of his other personalty out of the state, Sam "castrated a stallion" that was mortgaged to Edmund D. Jones and "rode him off to the state of Missouri." 20 The death of Otho and the financial collapse of Sam left Denton free to embark upon a calling for which he seemed eminently qualified by nature and which eventually brought him the public acclaim, if not the fortune, he had always so wistfully craved. Since early manhood on the farm Denton Offutt's personality had instinctively won the trust and con- fidence of all dumb animals. The wildest, meanest stallion, the most fractious mare, the most stubborn mule, after Denton had handled them a little while, would willingly do his bidding. So Denton Offutt had become a professional horse tamer, and with local reputation already established, his fame quickly 152 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS spread, particularly southward. Aided by a ghost writer who corrected his grammar, syntax, and amazingly grotesque spell- ing, he published a small booklet of 120 pages introducing his "New and Complete System of Teaching the Horse." 21 After a brief preface in which Offutt stated that he "was born on the waters of Hickman Creek, eight or nine miles south of Lexington, and raised to farming," the reader was informed that many methods existed all over the world for 4 gentling" horses. The Spaniards milked mare's milk into the hand, mixed it with salt, and let the horse "lick it from your hand." Others took from the horse's leg the "scurf or chest- nut," pulverized it, put it into a quill, and "blew it into each nostril some three or four times." The Virginia manner was to "sicken the horse by giving him one or two pounds of fat bacon." Still another method was to mix the "oil of Rodium, oil of Annes, oil of Spike, three equal quantities, and let them smell it from a vial or from your hand." Wherever "the law of kindness is involved," said Offutt, "I believe the above methods useful. No further have I any confidence in them." Offutt's technique was simple. Patience, kindness, caresses, soft words, and a quiet courage that must not falter never failed to soothe and subdue the most vicious instincts. "Put your arms around his neck and whisper the words in his ear"— whispering being most effective in the "gentling" process, be- cause it was the best way to "keep his attention." "By my system," said Offutt, "the wildest and most vicious horse may be made in a short time useful, but all cannot be made equally gentle." Whips or other means of punishment must never be used. "If the horse shows fight and attempts to fly at you, as the wildest are apt to do, shaking a blanket in his face will effectually frighten him from his purpose." Never show fear. Never be angry. Approach him gradually, talking to him softly and in "a constant tone." Rub his face "gently downward, not across or against the grain of the hair; as soon as he becomes reconciled to this (as you will perceive by his eye and countenance) rub his neck and back. . . . You must WIDOW SPRIGG AND BUENA VISTA 153 rub him on both sides," reminded Offutt, "as he may be gentle on one side and not on the other." As for artificial methods, all that Offutt ever did— and that only with a horse that had fasted from twelve to twenty-four hours— was to feed him, while patting, rubbing, and talking, bits of "sweated" cake made from "one pound of oatmeal, one quarter pound of honey, and one-half pound of laurence." The author concluded his instructions on horse training with the admonition, "Horse breeders! be kind and gentle to your foals, and you will seldom have vicious horses to tame." As Lincoln observed from his newspaper, doubtless to his great satisfaction, popularity and success in an entirely different role from that envisioned in New Salem days had finally come to his old sponsor and was now being recorded in the public press. In fact, if he could have known it, Offutt was about this time only forty miles away, giving exhibitions of horse taming in Baltimore— ever the showman— dressed in a black suit with a broad, multicolored satin sash extending across his right shoulder to a large rosette of the same material on his left hip. 22 There was at least one outstanding event of the summer for little Eddie and Bob. On a sultry August day Howe's Great Circus and Collection of World Curiosities came to town, and at noon the gorgeous street parade with blaring music passed slowly down Main Street in front of the Todd residence. It was headed by an "Egyptian Dragon Chariot drawn by twelve trained Syrian camels," containing the "Full New York Brass Band," followed by Queen Mabb's "Fairy Chariot" with twelve diminutive Shetland ponies driven by the "celebrated Dwarf, Major Stevens," cavorting clowns, a troop of "Real Bedouin Arabs," eight Equestrian Ladies, wild beasts of the African jungles that glared ferociously through the iron bars of their gilded cages, and "many other wonderful and impressive objects collected from remote parts of the Globe." 154 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Then on Sunday morning, August 5, Fayette County was thrown into the most intense excitement ever known in cen- tral Kentucky. Between dusk and daylight some seventy-five slaves had escaped from their masters, and armed and desperate, they were thought to be headed for the Ohio River. It was soon discovered that Patrick Doyle, a student of Centre College in the neighboring town of Danville, was ringleader of the insurrection, and the entire Bluegrass, with threats of summary vengeance, turned out to apprehend the fugitives. A mass meeting hurriedly assembled at the courthouse to provide means "for the detection and punishment of abolitionists and others in enticing slaves from their owners." The example of the notorious Fairbank [said the Observer'], who is now in our state prison, serving a fifteen years apprentice- ship at hard labor, has not, it seems, had the effect of keeping our state clear of these detestable villains who, under the false pretext of philanthropy, and with unexampled audacity are perpetrating their foul practice in our midst. It is time that a more severe ex- ample should be made of these wretches, and every citizen should be on the alert to detect and bring them to punishment. That there are abolitionists in our midst— emissaries from this piratical crew— whose business it is to tamper with and run off our slaves, there is not the shadow of doubt. 23 With hundreds of possemen galloping over the Paris-Cyn- thiana turnpike, while others scoured the countryside, the cap- ture of Doyle and his little band of runaway slaves was merely a matter of time. In a few days the fugitives were surrounded in the hemp fields north of the village of Cynthiana, and after a short, brisk encounter the survivors surrendered. Doyle, heav- ily ironed, was brought back to Lexington, and as Mary Lin- coln's visit came to a close, he lay in solitary confinement in Megowan's jail, awaiting trial for the grave offense of "Inciting Slaves to Conspiracy, Insurrection and Rebellion." 24 Lexington's young pastor of the First Baptist Church, Wil- liam M. Pratt, wrote in his diary: "There has been a great disturbance in the country on account of some 60 or 70 negroes A NEW AND COMPLETE SYSTEM TEACHING THE HORSE, On Fhrenological Principles: ALSO, A RULE FOR SELECTING THE BEST ANIMALS. AND MODE OF TEACHING ALL BEASTS VOIR WILL. BREEDING OF HORSES, And Cure of part of llicir Diseases. BY DENTON OFFUTT. CINCINNATI. Appletons's Queen City Press. 1848. Title page of Den- ton Offutt's book. Original owned by the author Joe Offutt, pupil AND "SPIT 'n' IMAGE" of his uncle Denton Original photograph owned by Mrs. Frank J. Cheek "Mr. Bell's splendid place" in Lexington, where friends of the Lincolns' lived "Buena Vista," summer home of Robert S. Todd, with slave cabins, as it looked before it was razed WIDOW SPRIGG AND BUENA VISTA 155 running off in a gang & hundreds have been in pursuit, nearly all taken. Some will be hung I fear, all the others will probably be sent down the river. They were a class of the finest negroes in the county. It is supposed they were decoyed by Abolition- ists. ... It has called for severe rules and regulations for the poor blacks." 25 Congressman Lincoln had intended to join his wife and boys in Lexington upon the adjournment of Congress and to spend a few days with them at Crab Orchard Springs, but the exigencies of politics compelled a change of plans. General Taylor's campaign for the Presidency was lagging in New Eng- land, and there were calls for reinforcements. So when Congress adjourned on August 14, Lincoln and General Leslie Combs of Lexington journeyed into Massachusetts to rally the apathetic Whigs about the standard of the Mexican War hero. The approach of September days brought Mary's stay in the Bluegrass to an end. It would be weeks now before she saw her husband, and then he would return direct to Springfield. Summer had swiftly passed, and Bob and Eddie were deeply tanned. These months had been happy ones for Mary and Mrs. Todd, for they at last had come to a thorough appreciation of each other. No shadow lay between them this time as Mary gathered up her little brood and started back to Illinois after an absence of nearly a year. Meanwhile, Lincoln in a long linen duster was stumping New England for Zachary Taylor. He spoke at Worcester, New Bedford, Lowell, Dorchester, Chelsea, Dedham, Cambridge, Taunton. At Boston he shared the platform in Tremont Tem- ple with William H. Seward. Early in October, after a leisurely trip by way of Albany, Buffalo, and Niagara Falls, the Illinois congressman arrived home again to find the Whig defection in his district even worse than Herndon had described. He had not been a candidate for re-election, leaving the nomination to Judge Logan, whom the Democrats had decisively defeated at the August election. 156 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Party leaders now blamed Lincoln's attitude on the Mexican War for the capture of this important Whig stronghold— the only one in the state except the Galena district. For the first time in his life Lincoln felt that he had lost ground in public esteem— that his efforts as a servant of the people were unappreciated— and it cut him to the quick. Never- theless, he plunged into the campaign in his district and spoke day and night in various counties. 26 In November, General Taylor was elected President of the United States, but Illinois went for Cass, and the incoming administration gave Lincoln no credit for the victory. Three weeks later, depressed and humiliated, the "lone Whig" re- turned to Washington to serve out the few remaining months of his term in Congress. Mrs. Lincoln was not with him, and such letters as he wrote to her or to their kinfolk at Lexington are no longer extant. On February 20 Lincoln's father-in-law, Robert S. Todd, wrote him. His brother, David Todd of Columbia, Missouri, had a son-in-law, Thomas M. Campbell, who was "in dependent circumstances." He sought Lincoln's aid in obtaining for Camp- bell an appointment as a clerk in one of the government de- partments under the incoming administration. 27 The closing weeks of Lincoln's career as a congressman were uneventful. He took little or no part in the debates, though he voted repeatedly for the Wilmot Proviso against slavery in any territory acquired from Mexico. He read to the House an amendment to a bill, abolishing slavery in the District of Columbia, but it was never formally introduced. Early Sunday morning, March 4, 1849, the Thirtieth Con- gress adjourned sine die, and Lincoln went sadly back to his dingy, cluttered law office and the faithful clientele that waited for him on the prairies of Illinois. ELEVEN A House Divided 1HE GIANT whistle on Bruen's Foundry at Lexington ush- ered in with hoarse blasts the first day of January, 1849, and gay, midnight watch parties at the Phoenix Hotel and in private homes greeted the New Year with popping corks, sparkling tumblers, songs, and merry jest. Scarcely, however, had the shouts of welcome died away when the "smouldering volcano" of slavery belched again into flames which raged fiercely through spring and summer into late autumn, unchecked by pestilence and bloodshed, giving to Abraham Lincoln "his first real specific alarm about the insti- tution of slavery." 1 After several weeks of sharp skirmishing the antislavery forces achieved what seemed to be a signal victory for the cause of emancipation. Early in February a reluctant legislature is- sued the call for a convention to assemble on October 1, 1849, to draft a new state constitution, for which delegates were to be chosen at the August election. For more than a decade the enemies of freedom had forestalled every effort to revise the organic law because they feared the adoption of provisions 158 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS detrimental to slavery. Now that a convention actually had been called, prospects for gradual emancipation seemed brighter than ever before in the history of the commonwealth. The House of Representatives, however, did not intend that there should be any doubt in the public mind as to where it stood on the slavery issue. On February 3, by unanimous action which included the vote of Joshua Speed, it adopted an emphatic resolution: "That we, the representatives of the peo- ple of Kentucky, are opposed to abolition or emancipation of slavery in any form or shape whatever, except as now provided by the Constitution and laws of the state." 2 Three weeks later a bill was introduced to repeal the Non- importation Act, and while the emancipationists, whose vigi- lance had been relaxed by the recent victory, stood aghast in the midst of their jubilation, the legislature quickly set aside the drastic provisions of the Negro Law which prohibited the bringing of slaves into Kentucky as merchandise. 3 Then, as if to make the issue in the approaching campaign even more clear-cut, the proslavery element struck its groggy adversaries another swift and stunning blow. A bill entitled "An Act for the benefit of those who have imported slaves contrary to the law of 1833" was hastily prepared and rushed through the Assembly, which provided that all such offenders were "forever absolved from all the penalties and liabilities incurred by the purchase or importation of said slaves." 4 Ken- tucky had defiantly returned to the open status of a slave-breed- ing state, and the initial advantage of the emancipationists in forcing the convention crumbled to ashes in their hands. For many years every attack upon the Negro Law had been repulsed in a decisive manner, and now its repeal in an un- guarded moment was a crushing defeat. But the emancipa- tionists were inured to disappointment, and it was not long before they had reformed their shattered ranks. Under a mili- tant leadership they began preparations for the grueling contest for delegates, which everybody foresaw must be a fight to the finish. If the curse of slavery was ever to be removed from A HOUSE DIVIDED 159 Kentucky, the machinery for gradual emancipation must be set up in the new constitution. And Fayette County, the home of the chief exponents of both factions, was, as usual, the bat- tleground. On the eve of hostilities the proslavery party of the Blue- grass paused long enough to entertain Lincoln's old personal and political enemy, General James Shields, United States sen- ator-elect from Illinois. In 1842 Shields, then state auditor- vain, blustering, socially ambitious but extremely sensitive, who sometimes referred to himself as "the gallant bachelor from Tyrone County, Ireland"— had been a victim of Mary Todd's devastating wit. The Sangamo Journal had published several communications to the editor, with Shields as the subject, pur- porting to have been written by a poor old widow who called herself "Aunt Becca of Lost Townships." Having poured a stream of scalding satire over the bewildered bachelor, the writer in one of her letters changed tone, made violent love to him, offered her hand in marriage, and described herself as "not over sixty, just four feet three in my bare feet and not much more around the girth; and for color I would not turn my back to nary a gal in the Lost Townships." The epistle closed with a postscript: "If he concludes to marry, I shall en- force one condition, that is, if he should ever happen to gallant any young gals home of nights from our house he must not squeeze their hands." 5 Lincoln had assumed responsibility for the letter, and hotly incensed, Shields challenged him to a duel. Lincoln, with his enormous reach, towering head and shoulders above the stockily built, short-armed Shields, selected cavalry broadswords of the largest size as weapons. 6 But as they reached the scene of battle on "Bloody Island," in the Mississippi, below Alton, the counsel of friends prevailed, and the duel was called off "with honor to all concerned." 7 On Thursday, February 15, 1849, "the gallant bachelor from Tyrone County" was given a warm welcome to Mary Todd's 160 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS home town and a public dinner tendered to him at the Phoenix Hotel. "In response to a complimentary toast," said the Ob- server, "General Shields made a beautiful and eloquent speech which drew forth repeated applause from the company." And the account of the banquet concluded with the obvious state- ment that after "a number of voluntary toasts were drunk, the greatest hilarity and good feeling prevailed, and the company separated about six o'clock in the best possible spirits." 8 A few days after the departure of General Shields the eman- cipationists wheeled a heavy gun into position and fired the first shot of the memorable campaign for delegates to the con- stitutional convention. It came in the form of a long and vigorous letter on slavery from Henry Clay, then in New Or- leans, to his friend, Richard Pindell, at Lexington. In this letter Clay stated his deliberate conviction of the justice and wisdom of gradual emancipation, and outlined a comprehensive plan for its accomplishment. In conclusion he said: "Kentucky enjoys high respect and honorable consideration throughout the Union and throughout the civilized world; but, in my humble opinion, no title which she has to the esteem and admiration of mankind, no deeds of her former glory, would equal in greatness and grandeur, that of being the pioneer state in removing from her soil every trace of human slavery, and in establishing the descendants of Africa within her juris- diction in the native land of their forefathers." 9 This unequivocal declaration of Henry Clay gave a power- ful impetus to the cause of emancipation in Kentucky. It was printed in many newspapers throughout the country and se- verely condemned by the southern press. "Henry Clay's true character now stands revealed," exclaimed the Richmond En- quirer. "The man is an abolitionist." "If Kentucky will abolish slavery," declared the New Orleans Crescent, "she should take all the responsibilities for the act— if she will join the Northern Allies let her do so at her risk— if she be anxious no longer to make common cause with the South, she has a right to go over, but there is no reason why the other Southern States should A HOUSE DIVIDED 161 build a bridge to facilitate her passage." 10 Mass meetings were held and resolutions offered requesting Clay to resign his seat in the United States Senate. But the old mariner faced the tempest with serenity. "As you were absent I sent to Richard Pindell a letter on the Emancipation question," he wrote his son James. "I regret to hear that it was not popular. I suppose that my letter will bring on me some odium. I nevertheless wish it published. I owe that to the cause, and to myself, and to posterity." 11 On April 14 citizens of Lexington and Fayette County met at the city hall to select representatives to the statewide eman- cipation meeting shortly to be held at Frankfort. Edward Oldham, Senator Todd's business partner, was in the chair, and after Henry Clay and Robert J. Breckinridge had addressed the meeting, the following resolutions were adopted: Resolved: That this meeting, composed of citizens of the County of Fayette, met in pursuance of public notice, to consider the ques- tion of slavery in this Commonwealth, considering that hereditary domestic slavery as it exists among us: 1. Is contrary to the natural rights of mankind, 2. Is opposed to the fundamental principles of free government, 3. Is inconsistent with a state of sound morality, 4. Is hostile to the prosperity of the Commonwealth, We are therefore of opinion, that it ought not to be made per- petual, and that the convention about to meet to amend the con- stitution of this state affords a proper occasion on which steps shall be taken to ameliorate the condition of slavery, in such way as shall be found practicable in itself, just as regards the masters of slaves, and beneficial to the slaves themselves. 12 But not even the Observer's idolatry of Henry Clay could induce it to swallow the "Emancipation heresy" contained in these resolutions. "If gentlemen do go on resolving upon the fundamental rights of mankind as applicable to the slave popu- lation," warned the editor, "they will most surely rouse the sleeping lion whose step will be as majestic as his roar will be terrible." 13 162 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS On the following Saturday a "Union" meeting composed of proslavery advocates from both the Whig and Democratic parties assembled at the courthouse and adopted a series of counterresolutions: Resolved: That the institution of slavery, as it exists in Ken- tucky, is not "inconsistent with a state of sound morality," nor is it prejudicial to the best interests of the Commonwealth, nor to the real happiness of the negro himself. Resolved: That any provision in the new Constitution for the immediate or gradual emancipation of slavery in our state, would be fraught with incalculable injury to the people of our Common- wealth. Resolved: That we will not support any candidate for the con- vention who is in favor of the Negro Law of 1833, (so called) being incorporated in the Constitution; or who is in favor of either con- stitutional or legislative emancipation. 14 Following these skirmishes the proslavery Union party of Fayette nominated Judge Aaron K. Woolley, son-in-law of Rob- ert (Old Duke) Wickliffe, and his kinsman, Robert N. Wick- liffe, for delegates to the convention. The emancipationists selected Dr. Robert J. Breckinridge and Samuel Shy as their representatives, and the bitterest political battle ever fought in Kentucky was on. Though the emancipationists of Fayette were in the overwhelming minority, they made up for their lack in numbers by the ability and courage of their leaders. The Union party had no such champion as the eloquent "Bob" Breckinridge with his clear, resonant voice and keen logic, deadly as the thrust of a rapier, nor had they an equal to that dauntless Knight of the Bowie Knife, Cash Clay, who already was deeply worried about the Doctor. Breckinridge was a preacher— a man of God— with neither training nor experience in personal combat. Yet his withering sarcasm, his bitter denunciation of slavery and all its works, invited bodily assault at any time. This bothered Cash greatly until he contrived a device for the Doctor's protection which he believed, all things considered, might do fairly well. A HOUSE DIVIDED 163 One evening he drove out to "Braedalbane," country seat of the Breckinridges since the early days of the Republic when the Doctor's father sat in the cabinet of Thomas Jefferson. Finding his colleague in his study working on the speech with which he intended to open his campaign, Cash plunged at once into the object of his visit. The times were rough. They would be rougher as the contest went on. Breckinridge would be constantly exposed to the reckless frenzy of proslavery fa- natics who would not hesitate to take his life or to do him serious harm. Feeling deep concern for his safety, Clay said that he had personally designed a weapon especially for the Doctor's inexperienced use, which he had just had made by a silversmith in Cincinnati. He then produced the wickedest- looking knife that anybody in the Bluegrass had ever seen or heard of— with a seven-inch blade, two inches in width at the hilt— and proceeded enthusiastically to demonstrate its won- derful simplicity of construction and efficiency of operation. Strapped securely but loosely under the left arm, it hung from its scabbard of coin silver— unlike all other knives— handle down, the blade held in place by a spring at the hilt. A grasp of the handle would trip the spring and release the long, curved, razor-sharp, double-edged blade at "belly level"! No assailant would ever be looking for a weapon drawn from that position. With the utmost economy of motion, all the Doctor had to do as the foe advanced upon him, Cash explained, was to "point the instrument at his navel and thrust vigorously"! It is not known how regularly the good Doctor wore this grisly gift, but years later, when showing it to his youngest son, he confided that he always felt sinful when he had it on. "Every time I gestured heavenward," said he, "that infernal knife thumped against my ribs!" 15 Clay's prediction about rough times ahead soon came true. In McCracken County two candidates, Judge James Campbell and Benedict Austin, engaged in several joint debates. "In- sulting and contemptuous language passed between them." 164 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS However, at Wyatt's campground they "shook hands and dined together," seemed to be on more friendly terms, and friends believed that all danger of personal altercation was over. Next afternoon they met again in the courthouse at Paducah. Pres- ently in the course of his remarks Judge Campbell began to relate a story which, since Austin was a Catholic and their former difficulties well known, threw the crowd into consterna- tion. The Judge said that when Mrs. White, a daughter of Governor John Adair, was in Rome, she "was anxious to see the Pope, but when informed that all who visited the Pope, except sovereigns, were required to kiss his big toe," she de- clined "because she herself was a sovereign." As the Judge finished his anecdote, Austin leaped to his feet, his face livid with rage, and shouted, "Your statement is as false as hell!" A fist fight immediately followed, in the midst of which Judge Campbell pulled his pistol and shot Austin dead on the platform. 16 Everywhere in the Bluegrass, Cassius M. Clay was the Moses of the emancipationists. Unintimidated by threats of violence, he harangued hostile audiences from every stump, denouncing the enemies of gradual emancipation with scorching invectives and pleading the cause of the slave with all the power of his magnetic personality. At one of the villages near Lexington large posters an- nounced that no antislavery speeches would be permitted under penalty of death. Some of the citizens sent for Clay, and promptly at the appointed hour, with his old gray carpetbag on his arm, he walked unattended down the center aisle of the packed courtroom, mounted the rostrum, and calmly faced the muttering, jostling crowd. "For those who support the laws of our country," he an- nounced in an even, steady voice, "1 have this argument," and he placed a copy of the Constitution on one end of the table. "For those who believe in the Bible, I have an argument from this," and he placed a copy of the New Testament on the other end of the table. "And for those who regard neither the laws A HOUSE DIVIDED 165 of God or man"— the speaker paused and fixed his dark piercing eyes upon the most threatening group in the audience— "I have this argument," and he laid a brace of long black-barreled pistols with his bowie knife on the table in front of him. Then he plunged without interruption into his speech. 17 Campaigns for the General Assembly added further excite- ment to the already overwrought situation. Early in the sum- mer Robert S. Todd was nominated by the Whigs to succeed himself in the Senate. His opponent was Colonel Oliver Ander- son, also a Whig but running on the Union ticket, the owner of a hundred slaves and one of the strongest proslavery advocates in the state. With political lines largely swept away, Todd soon found himself in serious difficulty. Anderson attacked him, as had a former opponent, in the most vulnerable spot, his slavery record in the legislature. He charged Todd with being an emancipa- tionist at heart. He called attention to the fact that during all the years that Todd had represented Fayette County, both as representative and senator, he had steadily opposed the repeal of the Nonimportation Act to the very end and, after its repeal, had voted against the Immunity Act, intended for the protection of all persons who had hitherto violated the Negro Law. These assaults on their candidate were sharply criticized by those proslavery Whigs who for various reasons were not in sympathy with the Union ticket. "Colonel Anderson," wrote a Todd supporter who signed his card "X," "is so much put out by the nomination of Robert S. Todd as a candidate for the Senate, that he makes statements to his prejudice which he must have known to be incorrect. He calls him the Emancipa- tion Candidate. It is not so— for one I would gladly own him as a brother in the cause. He is a gallant and able Whig— op- posed to all kinds of emancipation and a terribly popular man. Ah! There is the secret." 18 On June 13 Todd again made a public statement through the Observer "To the voters of Fayette County," concerning his views upon the all-absorbing subject of the day. "Knowing 166 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS that considerable excitement exists on the subject of Emanci- pation, Slavery, etc.," he said, "I feel it due to myself and those whom I offer to represent, to show the position I have hereto- fore, and now occupy, on those subjects." He then reminded his constituents that the present constitution recognized Negro slavery as an institution that pre-existed both of the earlier constitutions of Kentucky and was inserted after "mature de- liberations"; that "it was believed then to have become too much identified with the interests of the state to be successfully assailed, and that it is now thrice as great. I therefore consider it an impracticable question, and particularly so, in the absence of an unanimity which is indispensable to its success. That unanimity is not to be expected." He denied that he was for emancipation or that he would "interfere with slavery as a vested right in any manner whatever." Todd admitted that he had been "ever in favor of the Act of 1833, prohibiting the importation of slaves into the Com- monwealth," and that he "would individually be willing to see it incorporated in the new constitution. However," he said somewhat evasively, "this question must be settled by the con- vention, and cannot by possibility be subject to the decision of the Senate, whose duty and oath would require them to observe, not make constitutions; but if the question should come before the Senate (I being a member) and the opinion of a majority of my constituents should be different from my own, I should feel myself bound, (as the question is only one of expediency) to represent their views instead of my own- that being the duty of a representative." 19 One may well imagine the impression that Senator Todd's statement made on his son-in-law at Springfield. Lincoln knew very well that Todd was no abolitionist, nor except for his close personal friendship for Cassius M. Clay had he been identified with antislavery agitation in any way. But he also knew that Robert S. Todd was a man who sincerely deplored the existence of slavery, that his public record in quieter times showed a consistent opposition to all forms of the slave traffic, A HOUSE DIVIDED 167 that he took pride in never having sold a slave or having bought one in many years. 20 Yet the position that Todd now took was certainly a disappointment to Lincoln. A condition in the body politic which could cause so sturdy a character as Robert S. Todd to equivocate upon a vital principle for the sake of mere "expediency" must indeed be serious. It is little wonder that as Lincoln watched the struggle in Kentucky and read the card of his father-in-law, he began to feel, as he told Major Whitney, his "first, real specific alarm about the institution of slavery." In reply to Todd's card Colonel Anderson restated his own principles with vehement emphasis. "I am," he said, "what may be called a thorough pro-slavery man. So far from admit- ting the institution to be a necessary evil, I believe it tends to exalt the free population and would be unwilling to give it up, even if by a word I could remove the negro population to Africa. So far from deeming it inconsistent with a sound state of morality, I believe it to be recognized and countenanced both by Scriptures of the Old and New Testament." As for the emancipationists who advocate sending slaves to Liberia, he said: The wings of fancy are called to the rescue, and laden with a load so heavy, so black, so entirely African, that it is with difficulty that they can ascend to the regions of poetry, but after a long struggle, worthy of a nobler cause, they do get into the seventh heaven of imagination, and oh! the scene of ineffable beauty, of indescribable loveliness that is depicted! Millions of negroes roaming beneath the green palm trees, by the side of meandering rivers, and in the enjoyment of civilization, the arts and sciences— and all from Ken- tucky! Then another chord is struck, the African harp rings again, and we hear of all Africa from the low sunny plains of the Nile to where the lordly Niger flows through its burning sands— every- where there is a negro— being leavened by this little band of freed Kentucky slaves. The Colonel then argued at length that the history of man- kind showed beyond doubt that there must always be slavery of one kind or another, and that the question for the freemen 168 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS of Fayette, especially the nonslaveholding whites, to decide was whether they would rather see the Negroes slaves or perhaps their own children as "menials and cooks and scullions in the kitchens of more wealthy neighbors." "I repeat," said Colonel Anderson, "all that I have said with regard to the position of R. S. Todd and can prove it. Who constituted a majority of the committee which nominated him? Emancipationists. Who, almost, if not entirely, conducted the proceedings of the meeting which nominated him? Eman- cipationists." He reiterated the declaration of former Chief Justice Robertson that "his views were identical with those of Mr. Todd upon the subject of emancipation" and then quoted Judge Robertson as saying, "Slavery in Kentucky is a moral and political evil, a curse to the white race." Turning his attention to the anonymous X who had re- cently defended Todd, he said: Would it however be deemed out of place for me, in conclusion, to offer by way of suggestion that the youngster who wrote this scurrilous article, for it is impossible that a person full-grown to man's estate should be silly enough to be caught in such a fool scrape— would it, I say, be out of place to suggest that the young gentleman has some dark-skinned Dulcinea in view, by whom he hopes to rear an interesting family of little kinkey-heads, and that therefore he thinks it but acting the part of an affectionate para- mour and father to do all he can toward their emancipation. 21 And so the canvass went grimly on, with Todd and Ander- son, the candidates for the constitutional convention, and Breck- inridge and Clay speaking to the excited citizens of various communities wherever a crowd was gathered in the villages, at crossroad stores, country meetinghouses, and voting places. "Old Fayette," observed the Louisville Weekly Courier, "is the theater of a more lively discussion on the subject of slavery than any other portion of our state." 22 On Friday, June 15, a tragedy occurred which added more fuel to the flames and further widened the breach between the contending factions. A regimental muster was in progress at A HOUSE DIVIDED 169 the village of Foxtown on the Lexington-Richmond turnpike. It was announced that Squire Turner, the proslavery candidate for the convention from Madison County, and Cassius M. Clay would address the gathering that afternoon from a stand erected in a nearby woodland. Sharp exchanges had already passed between the two men on previous occasions, and it was freely predicted that a personal encounter could no longer be averted. Turner opened the debate, as usual, with a violent, sarcastic denunciation of Clay. He revived the old controversy over the removal of The True American and read extracts from that paper which he charged were responsible for the "late stam- pede of the slaves of Fayette." At the conclusion of Turner's speech Clay took the stand and launched a vicious, abusive counterattack, which was interrupted by Cyrus Turner, the eldest son of the candidate, who rushed toward the speaker gesticulating wildly. "You are a damned liar," he shouted, and Clay, jumping off the platform, struck him a staggering blow in the face with his fist. In an instant Clay found himself surrounded by the rela- tives and friends of his adversary. Attempting to draw his bowie knife, he was struck on the head with a club in the hands of Alfred Turner, and the weapon was jerked from his grasp. Just then Thomas Turner, Cyrus' brother, thrust a six-barreled revolver in his face and snapped it three times, but the per- cussion caps failed to explode. Dazed and reeling from blows on the head, Clay attempted to recover his knife, and seizing the blade with his bare hand, which cut his fingers to the bone, he wrested it from the possession of its captor, but not before he had received a deep stab in the left breast over the heart. Blinded with fury and pain, bleeding from many wounds, and with a gaping hole in his chest, Clay retaliated by burying his knife to the hilt in the abdomen of Cyrus Turner. Both wounded men were carried into a nearby residence and placed in adjoining rooms. A doctor was summoned, but it was not believed that either would live until he arrived. A telegram was dispatched to Clay's mother at Frankfort: "Dear 170 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Madam: Your son, C. M. Clay, was very dangerously stabbed at Foxtown, a few hours since. If you would see him alive, come quickly. The wound is in the lungs. Yours truly, Robert H. Stone." The Observer on the following day announced that "Gen- tlemen who witnessed the conflict, state that Mr. Clay is dead, and that his adversary is not expected to recover," but the next issue made a correction, saying that "Mr. Clay still lives, but his adversary Mr. Turner lingered until about 12 o'clock on Saturday night when he expired." 23 The news of the Foxtown tragedy spread swiftly all over Kentucky, thence into other states, 24 and bitterness between the contending parties became even more intense, if that were possible. Slavery advocates proclaimed Turner a martyr who had fallen "in the great cause of white supremacy" before the reckless blade of that "Abolitionist madman, C. M. Clay." On the other hand, the emancipationists charged that the fatal en- counter was but another instance of foul conspiracy on the part of the slavocracy to intimidate and murder, which had been again thwarted by the stubborn courage of a "dauntless cham- pion of human freedom." Then in the midst of all the turmoil, hatred, and bloodshed, with the swift, silent flight of a bird of prey, the gaunt, hooded specter of pestilence swooped down upon the warring factions. An autopsy upon the body of Tom O'Haver, an old Irishman who worked in a stone quarry at Lexington, resulted in a diag- nosis of cholera, and in a few days the dreaded disease in viru- lent form was sweeping like wildfire through the stricken city. Men, women, and children, rich and poor, white and black, were suddenly prostrated, lingered a few hours in violent pain, and died. As many as forty deaths occurred in twenty-four hours, and the terror of the inhabitants was indescribable. Busi- ness came to a standstill, and many of the stores on Main Street closed altogether. Hundreds of the wealthier citizens hastily locked up their houses and fled northward to distant watering places. 25 Dr. Breckinridge's knife, designed by Clay Original owned by the author v^# f Cassius Clay's "dress-up" bowie knife and dirk Originals owned by the author A HOUSE DIVIDED 171 The Reverend Mr. Pratt wrote in his diary: "Our town has looked deserted, scarcely anyone from the country in, and quite a number afflicted, nearly everyone has symptoms. It is sup- posed 1500 white persons have left town from alarm. I have not yet been affected or my family except my wife night before last I think had symptoms." 26 The more courageous of those who remained at home strove to calm the fears of the public and prepared to combat the epidemic as best they could. The city poorhouse was turned into a hospital, and all inmates of the workhouse were released to nurse the sick. The farmers of the county sent droves of sheep to town for slaughter, and Dudley & Carty and W. K. Higgins opened their large wholesale grocery stores to the des- titute free of charge. At the suggestion of scientists at Tran- sylvania batteries of field artillery were parked in various sec- tions of the city and fired in salvos at regular intervals in an effort to rend the atmosphere by concussion and thus in some mysterious manner reduce the violence of the disease. As weeks went by, the inhabitants of Lexington grew more accustomed to the situation and fought the deadly plague calmly and doggedly in the daytime, but horror enough to try the stoutest hearts increased with the coming of night. Lard- oil street lamps sputtered feebly through palls of smoke from booming cannon and threw weird, grotesque shadows across the heavily laden death carts as they jolted and clattered over rough cobblestones on their way to the graveyards. Streamers of crape flapped in the night wind from the doorposts of many darkened, silent houses. Down the empty streets the night watchman monotonously intoned the passing hours, and to those who lived in the vicinity of Mary Todd's old home near the Baptist churchyard came the ghastly sound of falling clods and the thud and scrape of pick and spade, digging, digging, digging. 27 "I have seen many distressing sights," wrote the Reverend Mr. Pratt on July 15, "whole families under the scourge & none to administer. Multitudes have left town for the hills. There are three preachers of us who remain & visit constantly, viz. 172 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Dr. R. J. Breckinridge, Dr. Miller & myself. God has graciously spared and preserved us. ... I found at Mrs. Trimble's 7 down & no white person to aid her & she just off her bed. May the Good Lord have mercy on us." And on July 29 Pratt wrote again: "On Friday night, it rained all night and on Saturday morning the worst form of cholera broke out, nearly all dying that were attacked in 36 hours. . . . O, What afflicting times. May the Good Lord lift his rod from off the community." Next day he noted that he had attended four funerals "in less than an hour. I only made a few remarks at each, sung & prayed." Yet in the midst of such public travail interest was by no means lost in the approaching election. Since crowds could no longer gather in town, the opposing candidates addressed the voters in various places in the county where the epidemic was not prevalent. Cassius M. Clay, still confined to bed by his wounds, issued defiant cards to the press, and Robert S. Todd and Colonel Oliver Anderson continued their vigorous cam- paign for the Senate. But the battle was now being waged in the face of a relentless and impartial foe. Three of the candi- dates for the convention— Woolley, Shy, and Wickliffe— fell ill at the same time, and Breckinridge, the remaining candidate, announced that his duties as a minister would prevent the filling of any more speaking engagements. "My friends and neighbors," he sadly wrote, "are sick and dying around me. The cholera continues to prevail very severely, and a great many of the people are gone off from fright." 28 On July 7 the deaths of Drs. Whitney and Brockway were announced, a few days later the illness of Dr. Jones proved fatal, and by the middle of the month so many physicians had died that an appeal was made to nearby towns for medical aid. Henry Clay and Mrs. Clay were stricken at "Ashland" but soon recovered. The death of Dr. Bascom, president of Transylvania, was announced in the newspapers but proved to be erroneous. Early in June, Robert S. Todd had as usual taken his family to "Buena Vista" for the summer. The railroad ran through A HOUSE DIVIDED 173 his place, and he rode up to Lexington almost every day on the cars to attend to his duties as president of the Branch Bank of Kentucky. The hotly contested race for the Senate occupied all of his spare time, and he canvassed the district thoroughly, riding long distances in all kinds of weather, both on horseback and in his buggy. On Saturday, July 7, he made a long and fatiguing speech at Spencer's Mill near the village of Fort Springs, and on Tues- day he was seized with a sudden chill, followed by severe pros- tration. Growing rapidly worse in spite of all his physicians from Lexington and Frankfort could do, he made his will, signed it with a weak, tremulous hand, and on Monday morn- ing, July 16, 1849, at one o'clock, he died. On the afternoon of the seventeenth his body was brought to Lexington "and followed to its final resting place by a large concourse of sorrowing friends." The terrible toll of the plague had made it necessary to open up a new cemetery on the Lees- town pike, and here in "Boswell's Woods" beneath the tall, waving bluegrass sheltered by aged, moss-grown oaks, the mor- tal remains of Robert S. Todd were buried on the crest of a gentle slope above the old spring where his father and the little band of Kentucky hunters had named the town of Lex- ington. 29 "We are again," said the Observer the next day, "in the dis- charge of our melancholy duty, compelled to chronicle the death of another of our most respected, beloved, useful and distinguished citizens, Robert S. Todd, Esq. . . . He had im- pressed himself indelibly upon the country for the zeal, fidelity and ability with which he discharged all his various and mul- tiplied public duties. No man more truly and faithfully con- formed to all the requisitions of virtue and benevolence, and no man occupied a higher position in the society in which he moved than Robert S. Todd. He was emphatically 'the noblest work of God— an honest man.' " The death of the Whig candidate for the Senate made the prospect of victory for the Union ticket brighter than ever. 174 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS But the Whigs were not ready to concede defeat. J. R. Dunlap was chosen as Todd's successor, and the canvass went on. The new candidate sought at once to placate the proslavery mem- bers of his party by deploring the "agitation of a subject that is exciting the Commonwealth to an alarming extent." He announced his opposition to "any interference between master and slave without the consent of the master." But Dunlap was not the shrewd, veteran politician that his predecessor had been. Lacking Todd's great personal popularity and experi- ence, the new candidate was no match for his doughty an- tagonist, who called attention to the fact that his new opponent had, while a member of the House in 1833, been instrumental in passing the "iniquitous" Nonimportation Act and even now admitted that he favored the submisson of the question to the convention. Meanwhile, the epidemic continued, and Mayor O. F. Payne issued a proclamation fixing Friday, August 3, as a "day of general fasting and humiliation to fervently implore the Al- mighty for the arrest of the step of the Angel of Death, which is now so manifestly and terribly abroad among us." 30 And on Friday morning, as church bells tolled the call to prayer, Judge Woolley, the leader of the Union ticket for the convention, was again stricken, lingered through the day, and died at sun- down. Concerning Judge Woolley the Reverend Mr. Pratt made the following entry in his diary: Heard that Judge A. K. Woolley was at point of death. Went im- mediately to see him but could not gain admission. Poor man he died that evening, he was taken in the morning. He was a candidate for the Convention 8c within 3 days of the election when God cut him down. A most talented man but great indulger in eating & drinking & gambling, etc. The night before he was on a frolic til late evening defying the Cholera I am told. I had a talk with him on Religion a few days before, told me he was skeptical but would not be called an infidel, he despised one, asked for loan of Edwards on Will, Butler's Analogy, said wanted to believe in Christianity as it was only this that would redeem him from bad habits. 31 A HOUSE DIVIDED 175 With the election for the legislature and the convention only a few days off, the Observer wrote an editorial of warning to its proslavery readers. It reminded them that "the excite- ment of a protracted and most arduous canvass" makes it cer- tain that the friends of emancipation will poll their full strength, and that "the opponents of emancipation must permit no consideration to prevent them from a prompt expression of their opinions at the poll." 32 The election was held throughout Kentucky on August 6, 7, and 8, and the proslavery ticket swept the state. In Fayette the victory of the Union party was overwhelming: Anderson for the Senate, and Dudley, Woolley's successor, and Wickliffe for the convention, carried every precinct in the city and coun- ty. 33 Through violence, bloodshed, bitterness, and stormy de- bate, unchastened by the ravage of an awful plague, the people of the commonwealth had clung stubbornly to their ancient idol. As Abraham Lincoln read the result of the election in his native state through the columns of the exulting Observer, the outlook for freedom seemed hopeless. Out of all the counties in Kentucky not a single emancipation candidate had been elected to the convention, although they had polled thousands of votes. "There is no peaceful extinction of slavery in prospect for us," wrote Lincoln to Judge Robertson of Lexington; "the sig- nal failure of Henry Clay, and other good and great men, in 1849, to effect any thing in favor of gradual emancipation in Kentucky . . . extinguishes that hope utterly." 34 Lincoln had watched the struggle with deepest interest. Now that it was over, he was beginning to formulate his immortal declaration that "a house divided against itself cannot stand." The house had not fallen, but in the conviction of friend and foe that the cause of emancipation was forever lost in Kentucky, it had ceased to be divided. TWELVE Milly and Alfred iHE CRISP sunny days of early autumn saw the final disap- pearance of the great scourge in Lexington and Fayette County. But mute witnesses on every hand bore evidence of the havoc it had wrought. Empty barrels, boxes, and wastepaper littered the back yards, alleys, and sidewalks, and grass was growing in the streets. Show windows of business houses, unwashed for months, were streaked with dust and grime. The doors of some stores were closed, with tattered, weather-stained pieces of crape on the knobs; appraisers were busy inside preparing stocks of merchandise for the auctioneer. 1 The plague had laid a heavy hand upon the once parklike countryside. Beautiful estates were now surrounded by stag- nation and decay. Farming implements stood rusting in the fields, weeds choked the yellow corn rows, uncut wheat lay tangled and twisted on the ground, and broad, blackened leaves of tobacco drooped, rotting on the stalks. The will of Robert S. Todd had left the bulk of his estate to his wife Elizabeth, his slaves to her for life and then to her sons and daughters, with the remainder of his property to be MILLY AND ALFRED 111 "divided equally in just proportions" between his "first and second children." 2 At the September term the will was present- ed to the Fayette County Court, but George Todd, Mrs. Lin- coln's youngest brother, appeared and objected to the probate on the ground that the document bore only one witness instead of two as required by law. After consideration the court sus- tained the objection, rejected the will, and directed that the estate be distributed equally among all the heirs in the manner prescribed by the statutes of Kentucky. 3 This unexpected turn of affairs was a sad blow to the Widow Todd and her eight children, six of whom were small and utterly dependent upon her for support. It meant that the widow, who now qualified as administratrix, would be com- pelled to convert her husband's estate, including his one-third interest in the firm of Oldham, Todd 2c Company, into cash at forced sales and divide it among all of Robert Todd's four- teen children. At this stage of the proceedings Abraham Lincoln seems to have been selected by common consent to represent the majority of the first children, four of whom lived in Springfield. There is no indication that either he or his wife or any of the other Springfield heirs took any part in the proceedings to invalidate the will, but now that probate had been refused and the estate had to be settled, Lincoln assumed the role of legal adviser to the interested nonresidents. And it was time that he did so, for there were already important matters in Lexing- ton that demanded immediate attention. About a year before his death Robert S. Todd had filed a suit in the Fayette Circuit Court against Robert Wickliffe for the recovery of a large estate, formerly owned by his cousin, Mary Todd Russell, which she had conveyed to Wickliffe short- ly after her marriage to him in 1826. 4 Todd and Wickliffe had not been on good terms, either personally or politically, for many years, and this litigation had aroused the deepest enmity between them. Under the law the death of the plaintiff had 178 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS abated this action, and no further steps could be taken without the intervention of Todd's heirs. However, if Wickliffe cherished a hope, as there is reason to believe he did, that the children of his deceased adversary would drop the case, such a possibility vanished upon the filing of a bill of revivor on October 2, 1849, in behalf of "Abraham Lincoln and Mary A. Lincoln, his wife; Ninian W. Edwards and Elizabeth P. Edwards, his wife," and the other heirs of Robert S. Todd— "who charge as in the original & cross bills of their ancestor." It is apparent from the record that Wickliffe felt greatly outraged at this renewal of a contest which he thought had terminated at the grave in Boswell's Woods. And the answer which he filed on October 11 bore unmistakable evidence of his resentment. Refusing to yield an inch of ground in the litigation, Wickliffe put Lincoln and the children of the de- ceased plaintiff strictly upon proof as to every material allega- tion of their bill of revivor— even as to their relationship to Robert S. Todd. "Defendant states," said he, in spite of the fact that the closest intimacy had existed for years between Todd's first children and the members of his own family, "that he does not know them so as to admit or deny their names or relationship." His specific reference to Mary Lincoln and her husband was even more startling. Mary Todd had been the intimate girlhood companion of his daughter Margaret, who later be- came Mrs. William Preston. 5 They had practically lived in each other's homes during their school days, were roommates at Mme. Mentelle's, and had kept up their correspondence after Mary's marriage. Even as recently as her visit to Lexing- ton in the summer of 1848 Mrs. Lincoln, regardless of her father's quarrel with the Old Duke, had been so friendly with the Wickliffes that Lincoln felt it necessary to caution her in one of his letters against the "danger of wounding the feelings" of her "good father by being openly intimate with the Wickliffe family." 6 Robert Wickliffe therefore knew Mary Todd almost MILLY AND ALFRED 179 as well as he knew his own daughter, yet suspecting no doubt that Lincoln, as the lawyer of the family, was responsible for the renewal of the suit, the Old Duke with grim irony wrote in his answer that Robert S. Todd "did have a daughter he thinks they called Mary who he understands married a member of congress, his name not recollected." By the middle of October the lawsuit in the Fayette Circuit Court and business affairs connected with the settlement of the Todd estate required Lincoln's presence in Kentucky, and the cholera having disappeared, he and Mary arrived in Lex- ington about the twentieth for a visit of three or four weeks. 7 It is evident that Lincoln was already informed in a general way as to the nature of the Wickliffe suit in which he had lately intervened. However, there is no indication that he knew much about the details of the case, or what the actual facts were, until he came to Lexington, read the record, and talked with Robert J. Breckinridge and other close friends of Robert S. Todd. It was then that he found a tragic, sordid story inter- woven with the pending litigation. When Colonel John Todd marched away with his regiment in August, 1782, to engage Simon Girty's besiegers at Bryan's Station, he left a wife, Jane Todd, and an infant daughter, Mary Owen Todd, in the fort at Lexington. A few days later, upon his death at the Battle of Blue Licks, his young daughter fell heir to all of her father's vast landholdings in Kentucky. Mrs. Todd later became the wife of Thomas Irvine. At about the age of seventeen Mary Owen Todd married Colonel James Russell, who died in 1802, leaving an only son two years old bearing the name of his illustrious maternal grandfather. The young Widow Russell was probably the wealthiest woman in all Kentucky. She owned nearly two thousand acres of the finest land in the Bluegrass, most of it adjoining the town of Lexington. In a fine old colonial mansion, surrounded by many slaves, she lived in the most elegant style. Her son, John Todd Russell, was his mother's fondest hope— a youth 180 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS of rare charm and striking personal appearance, over six feet in height, unassuming, generous, amiable, a favorite among old and young. By the early summer of 1816 the boy had completed his preparatory training for Princeton, and while waiting for col- lege to open in the fall, spent several months at the home of his grandmother, Mrs. Irvine, who was just recovering from a long and serious illness. Here, so the story went, he met Milly, a comely octoroon slave about fifteen years old, who was the joint property of Mrs. Irvine and her brother. The girl had been educated and carefully reared as a house servant and, as it is said, was "a young woman of refined manners, who bore little evidence of her Ethiopian blood." Thrown constantly in each other's company, young Russell and Milly developed a secret but ardent attachment which continued through the summer. Then autumn came, and Rus- sell left for Princeton, while Milly remained in the Irvine household. During the months that followed, she tenderly nursed her convalescent mistress until the spring of 1817, when she became the mother of a fine, sturdy boy "as fair in com- plexion as any white child in Kentucky." At the end of two years young Russell came back to Lex- ington but never returned to college. Three years later, while on his way home from a journey to Gallatin County, he was seized with a sudden and violent illness at Shelbyville. Realiz- ing that the end was near, he acknowledged Milly's boy Alfred to be his son, "thought of him in the last throbs of life and did what he considered necessary to insure the freedom and respectability of the child." Then, on October 12, 1822, John Todd Russell died, 8 "an only son, the chief and earthly hope of a mother." Soon after his death the Widow Russell quietly undertook to purchase Milly and Alfred, but her uncle, who owned a part interest in them, had become financially involved, and his creditors, as Robert Wickliffe said, "extorted" from her MILLY AND ALFRED 181 "the enormous sum of twelve hundred dollars for Milly and her boy child." And so the octoroon girl and Alfred passed into the hands of Widow Russell and came to live in her ele- gant home. The boy was described as a "bright, lovely, well- behaved lad who, though held in nominal bondage, was treated as the child of a friend rather than as a slave and who, though illegitimate, was yet the acknowledged son of the unquestioned heir-male of these great estates." Thus matters stood on October 12, 1826, when the Widow Russell married Robert Wickliffe, himself one of the wealthiest men in Kentucky and a widower with seven small children. Several months later, according to the allegations of Todd's bill of complaint, Mrs. Wickliffe began preparations to set Milly and Alfred free and send them to Liberia, when she discovered "to her horror" that under the marriage laws of Kentucky they and all her other slaves had become the sole property of her husband, who refused to emancipate them unless she conveyed to him her entire estate, valued at some- thing like a quarter of a million dollars. Finding that "she had made her own grandchild his slave, Wickliffe, as the price of his liberation, extorted from her a conveyance of all her property," and the deeds therefore were duly executed by her on September 12, 1827. Having liberated her grandson at such tremendous sacrifice, Mrs. Wickliffe hurried Alfred and Milly off to Liberia, where "the last reputed descendant of John Todd, if he still lives, is in poverty on the barbarous shores of Africa." The bill of complaint closed with the allegations that no children had been born to Mrs. Wickliffe by her last marriage and that "the wife of the defendant is now dead and a short time before her death she frequently requested the said Robert Wickliffe to reconvey her estate to her which he refused to do," and asked the court to adjudge that all of the property which had been received by him from his wife should be restored to her own blood kin. 182 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS While the Lincolns were on their way to Lexington, Robert Wickliffe had filed a voluminous, forty-page answer to the statements of the complaint and to Lincoln's revivor. He ve- hemently denied that his wife had conveyed her property to him under duress or coercion and that there had been any motive for it except "love and affection." He stated that Rob- ert S. Todd had managed the estate of his cousin, Mrs. Wick- liffe, prior to her marriage to the defendant; that Todd had expected to be the beneficiary of her will at her death, which hope was frustrated by her marriage; that since Todd had learned of the "Marriage settlement," the defendant "had ex- perienced nothing from him but a sullen and ill-will conduct"; that "the said Robert S. Todd cherished undying hatred against this defendant, believing that but for him the estate sued for would have been secured to him"; and finally that Todd had circulated the story that by marrying Wickliffe, his cousin "had made her own grandchild his slave," and that her husband "had extorted from her a deed of all her property to rescue the boy Alfred, the child of her deceased son, from defendant's ownership." Wickliffe did not deny that young Russell was the father of Milly's son, but he declared "that the story of the boy Alfred, whether true or false, was promulgated to ruin the peace and happiness of his wife," that the publicity given to this "old and long forgotten tale" distressed Mrs. Wickliffe greatly, and that "with this malignant shaft in the bruised heart of the victim, his wife sunk into an untimely grave." 9 Wickliffe stoutly denied that Milly and Alfred had been sent to Liberia in poverty, but alleged that "defendant allowed his wife to take whatever money of his these slaves needed for their transportation which was some several hundred dollars, the exact amount he does not know, nor does he care, and he repeatedly gave his wife money to send them after they left." As for Alfred, Wickliffe said: "He is now, I am informed, a respectable Methodist divine, and a perfect gentleman in his manners. When Monrovia, the capital of Liberia, was attacked, MILLY AND ALFRED 183 he stood the powder and shot of the enemy and fought in her defense most bravely." 10 The case of Todd's heirs v. Robert Wickliffe progressed rapidly after Lincoln arrived in Lexington. But as he sat in Judge Robertson's stuffy little office on Jordan's Row while depositions were being taken, he must have realized that the complainants had only a remote chance of winning the suit. Witness after witness, including Mary Lincoln's old French teacher, the infirm, palsied, beloved Mine. Victorie Charlotte Mentelle, testified that Robert Wickliffe, in spite of an irascible disposition, had been a most exemplary husband, that he and Mary Todd Wickliffe were devoted to each other, and that Mrs. Wickliffe in her last years and on her deathbed repeatedly expressed her complete satisfaction with the transaction which had given her husband absolute title to all her property. As the taking of proof went on and it became apparent that the charge of coercion could not be sustained, Todd's heirs switched their line of attack and began the introduction of testimony to the effect that John Todd, before leaving for the battlefield of Blue Licks, had made a will devising all of his property to his daughter for life only and, at her death, to "his brothers and companions in peril," or to their children. This will, according to Lincoln and his coplaintiffs, had been destroyed when the clerk's office burned in 1803, and witnesses, including the Reverend Robert Stuart, father of Lincoln's first law partner, John T. Stuart, and Mary's grandmother, the venerable Elizabeth Parker, were introduced to prove the con- tents of that document. However, the three weeks that Lincoln spent in Lexington on this trip were not all devoted to business and litigation. As in 1847, there was much opportunity for visiting among kins- folk and friends. The Widow Todd and Mary's young half brothers and sisters were at "Buena Vista," and the Lincolns visited them there, riding back and forth to Lexington on the steam cars. Henry Clay, again United States senator-elect, did 184 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS not leave home for Washington until November 1, and if Mary took her husband to visit her friend at ' 'Ashland," he no doubt heard much concerning the defeat of gradual eman- cipation in the recent election. Denton Offutt had left for the West only a few days before Lincoln's arrival, taking with him the following recommenda- tion from an old friend: Ashland, October 27, 1849 The bearer hereof, Mr. Denton Offutt of Kentucky, being about to travel in other parts of the U. States and perhaps in Europe, I take great pleasure in recommending him as a person who possesses uncommon skill in the treatment of horses and domestic animals, especially in training, breaking and curing them of diseases. Such is the extraordinary effect of his system in the management of the horse, that he will, in a very short time, render the wildest animal gentle and docile, in so much that he will subject it to his easy con- trol and direction. Mr. Offutt has been many years engaged in the study and practice of his remarkable method of dealing with the horse and has many and satisfactory evidences of his great success. Henry Clay. At the same time Offutt also obtained a letter from Lex- ington's distinguished surgeon, Dr. Benjamin Dudley of the Transylvania medical faculty, stating that "from personal ob- servation" he could "testify" not only as to Offutt's remarkable ability in quickly taming horses so that they "were perfectly safe," but his "even greater promptitude" in deciding "on the mode of training the horse according to his endowments." Dr. Dudley felt "authorized to commend Mr. Offutt to the entire confidence of all who were interested in the subject." 11 There were those who thought a term in Congress had im- proved Lincoln's personal appearance. Wearing a black frock coat and pantaloons of broadcloth, satin vest, black cravat of the choker style, and a tall, moleskin hat, with a short, circular blue cloak, the Springfield lawyer did not suffer in comparison with the best-dressed members of the Lexington bar. 12 MILLY AND ALFRED 185 Bluegrass hemp growers had nominated Mary's uncle, Dr. John T. Parker, for hemp agent of the state of Kentucky, and the Illinois politician on November 5 wrote the secretary of the navy a warm endorsement of Dr. Parker. "I personally know him to be a gentleman of high character, of excellent general information, and, withal, an experienced hemp grower himself," wrote Lincoln; "I shall be much gratified, if Dr. Parker shall receive the appointment." 13 Mrs. Lincoln's brother Levi, the city treasurer, now lived in the old Todd home at the corner of Short Street and Me- chanics Alley. 14 Here, and with "Grandma" Parker next door, the Lincolns spent more time, perhaps, than anywhere else. 15 And here Abraham Lincoln was again a witness to the utter degradation and misery of that institution which had given him so much concern in recent months. While in Congress, he had been interested in a bill to abol- ish slavery in the District of Columbia and, as he said, had voted for the Wilmot Proviso, prohibiting slavery in Texas, "as good as forty times." Then, upon the heels of the emanci- pation slaughter at the polls in Kentucky, Lincoln had arrived in Lexington to be confronted by the shocking disclosure that a cousin by marriage, a kinsman of his own wife, had been a slave, with the taint of Negro blood beneath a Caucasian skin, and was now an exile upon the "barbarous shores of Africa." 16 The slave coops in the yard of Pullum's jail along Me- chanics Alley were still plainly visible from the Parker and Todd residences. 17 The Pullum property was now under lease to Lewis C. Robards, the leading "Negro buyer," who had also acquired the old Lexington Theater, which stood on Short Street directly across the street from Levi Todd and Mrs. Parker. This latter establishment under Robards' able man- agement was now a busy and quite select slave market. 18 The rear of the theater property was fenced in by a high stone wall, and Negroes were confined within this enclosure while waiting their turn on the auction block inside. The stage had been left just as it stood when the building was a 186 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS playhouse, and now men, women, and children were paraded up and down and put through their paces under the scrutiniz- ing gaze of Negro traders from various parts of the Deep South. On the ground floor of a commodious two-story brick house adjoining the old theater, Robards had his office, a large bare room with a desk in one end, the inevitable liquor bar along one side, and several tables and chairs in the center. Slave drivers, catchers, and traders found this a convenient place to loaf, "talk shop" over ale and brandy, and play cards. In the comfortable, well-ventilated, and amply furnished apartments upstairs over the office, Robards kept what he, with a significant wink and smile, called his "choice stock." The interior as it appeared to Lincoln in 1849 was no doubt sub- stantially the same as when one of his dearest friends, Orville H. Browning, saw it four years later. "After dinner visited a negro jail," wrote Browning in his diary. "Tis a place where negroes are kept for sale— Outer doors & windows all protected with iron grates, but inside the appointments are not only comfortable, but in many respects luxurious. Many of the rooms are well carpeted & furnished, & very neat, and the inmates whilst here are treated with great indulgence & hu- manity, but I confess it impressed me with the idea of decorat- ing the ox for the sacrifice. In several of the rooms I found very handsome mulatto women, of fine persons and easy genteel manners, sitting at their needle work awaiting a purchaser. The proprietor made them get up & turn round to show to advantage their finely developed & graceful forms— and slaves as they were this I confess rather shocked my gallantry. I en- quired the price of one girl which was $1600." 19 Robards' "choice stock," according to his own testimony, was famous among "discriminating" buyers throughout the South. It was their custom to visit the "luxurious" apartments of which Senator Browning spoke, select a half dozen or more of the most beautiful quadroon and octoroon girls, and then take them to the "inspection" room in the ell of the house, Megowan slave jail. From original in Mulligan Collection Where Robards kept his "choice stock, Photograph taken by the author AS IT LOOKED BEFORE IT WAS RAZED MILLY AND ALFRED 187 where they were stripped to the skin for the purpose of con- firming Robards' "warranty of soundness." 20 Robards was the shrewdest, most enterprising, and un- scrupulous of all the "Negro buyers" in Kentucky. In the autumn of 1849 he was at the height of his prosperity. He carried a standing advertisement in the Observer that he was in the market to "purchase a large lot of merchantable negroes for which I will pay the highest cash market-price." 21 The repeal of the Nonimportation Act the previous spring had opened wide the gates of opportunity, and Robards was making the most of it. It was charged in litigation, and not denied, that he was "regularly engaged in the slave traffic, buying and selling slaves and sending them out of the state into the South- ern slave states," and that "his jail is the rendezvous for a gang of kidnappers that operate along the Ohio River seizing free negroes who live in the extreme southern border of the state of Ohio and sending them to Robards in Lexington." 22 At the Pullum jail on Broadway, Robards kept the common run of his slaves, herding men and women promiscuously into the crowded slave coops, and its squalor and wretchedness were painfully apparent to Lincoln as it stood under his very eyes day after day. There were little children as well as adults in those fetid pens. Martha, five years old and free, had lived with her aged uncle on the banks of the Ohio River near Portsmouth, until one night a marauding band of white "nigger thieves" broke open the door with an ax, "grasping the wool on the top of her old uncle's head," and carried the little girl and her six small brothers and sisters away into captivity to Robards at Lexington. 23 There was also Isva, age two, suffering from sores on her head and the "phthsick," and "a negro girl named Henrietta, about one year of age, of black complexion and entirely blind." 24 At this particular time the dungeon was filled with advanced cases of Negro consumption. Lincoln sadly noted the changes that had taken place in the institution of slavery around Lexington since his visit of 188 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS two years before. It too had felt the blighting touch of the great scourge. Many of the largest slaveholders had been sud- denly carried away by the cholera without time to make a will. Hundreds of slaves, like those that belonged to Robert S. Todd, who would never have been sold now came under the hammer of the auctioneer to settle the estates of their deceased owners, and the records indicate that no fewer than 150 Negroes went on the auction block during the three weeks of Lincoln's visit, while scores of others must have changed hands at private sales. 25 Lincoln, who was far less tolerant of slavery than Browning, could not have been less affected by these scenes than was his old friend, who recorded in his diary that upon his arrival in Lexington he "saw a negro man sold at public auction in the Court House yard. . . . Although I am not sensible in any change in my views upon the abstract question of slavery," observed Browning, "many of its features, that they are no longer familiar, make a much more vivid impression of wrong than they did before I had lived away from the influence of the institution." 26 The Kentucky Negro had an instinctive dread of slavery as it existed in the Deep South. Lurid tales of horror told by old scarred slaves throbbed in his ears from his earliest recollection around the cabin fireside. The threat to sell him "South" had long been an effective method of correction, and now, con- fronted by the hideous reality, he was terror-stricken and des- perate. Many slaves were running away; others were prowling about the country, committing all sorts of petty misdemeanors and occasionally some grave offense. The watch bell rang at seven p. m v and all slaves found on the streets after that hour were subject to the punishment of "35 lashes well laid on the bare back." Vigorous floggings at "the three- pronged poplar tree in the court-house yard" were familiar sights to those who passed along the public square. The situation seemed all the more pathetic, as Lincoln saw the slave power daily entrenching itself more strongly in the MILLY AND ALFRED 189 constitutional convention then in session at Frankfort. The Todd farm was only five miles from the statehouse, and it is more than probable that Lincoln attended some of the sessions; certainly he kept himself fully informed of all the proceedings. In spite of the fact that not a single emancipation delegate had been elected, the slavery question in all its various aspects was receiving more discussion than any other subject. ''For two solid weeks," complained the Observer, "the convention has been engaged in the discussion of the slavery question, with nearly all the speeches on one side. For what end is all this discussion? The patience of the people is becoming exhausted by this perpetual speechifying." 27 By the time Lincoln was ready to return to Springfield it was unmistakably evident that the convention had subordinated every other interest of the state to the perpetuation of slavery in Kentucky. A motion to incorporate the Nonimportation Act of 1833 was decisively tabled. Even the ballot system of voting was rejected on the ground that it might prove injurious to slave interests. The convention not only retained the clauses on slavery in the old constitution, but new and far more drastic provisions were enacted. No person could voluntarily emanci- pate his slaves, "except on condition that such emancipated slaves be immediately sent out of the state." Free Negroes were forbidden to immigrate to Kentucky. Then, in order to settle the question for ever, the convention wrote into the bill of rights the declaration: "The right of property is before and higher than any constitutional sanction; and the right of an owner to his slave, and its increase, is the same and is as in- violable as the right of the owner to any property whatever." 28 In the midst of these activities of the lawmakers for strip- ping the Negro of every human attribute, an item appeared in the Louisville Courier, which came regularly to the Todd home, ironically illustrating the anomalous position of the slave in Kentucky despite all efforts to reduce him to the status of a mere chattel. 190 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS NEGRO LAWYER AT AUCTION There will be offered to the highest bidder at the office of J. S. Young, on 5th Street, this morning at 9:00 o'clock— A valuable yellow man supposed to have his blood fully half mixed with the Anglo-Saxon, stout and active and weighing 175 pounds. A very good rough lawyer; very healthy and title good— said negro is not fitted to practice in the Court of Appeals, or in the Court of Chan- cery, but take him in a common law case, or a six-penny trial before a County Magistrate and "he can't be beat." Said yellow man can also take depositions, make out legal writings, and is thoroughly adept at brow-beating witnesses and other tricks of the trade. 29 By November 10 Lincoln had finished his business in Lex- ington, and he and Mary started home. Judge George Robert- son, local counsel for the Todd heirs, was left in charge of the Wickliffe case, which would shortly be ready for final submission to the court. 30 It was agreed with Mrs. Todd that a suit should be brought by her as administratrix for the purpose of settling the estate of Robert S. Todd, paying off debts, and dividing the balance as required by law. On this visit to Kentucky, Lincoln had definitely obtained a deeper insight into the problem of slavery than he had hither- to possessed. Personal contact and firsthand observation had given him a grasp of the situation which he could have acquired in no other way. He had closely watched the effect of anti- slavery agitation in the Bluegrass region of his native state since The True American had espoused the cause of gradual eman- cipation. He had seen the freedom of the press quickly over- thrown by the force and arms of a popular uprising. He had observed the strife and bitterness, the violence and bloodshed of that memorable campaign of 1849, and the annihilation of the emancipation forces at the polls. Slavery, in the very place where it was said to be most benign, had left etchings on his memory never to be erased— the misery of crowded, vermin- infested slave coops; the degradation of comely octoroons at their needlework in Robards' luxurious apartments; the an- guish of the auction block on Cheapside; the torture of the MILLY AND ALFRED 191 whipping post in the courthouse yard; the callous indifference of the populace to the unhappy and hopeless situation of the bondman, under the devout conviction that the institution was authorized and sanctioned by Holy Writ. And with it all, the shadow of Alfred lay deep in Lincoln's heart. From his experiences and observations in Kentucky, Lin- coln must have been convinced of two principles which here- after guided his course on the great question of the age: First: That antislavery agitation in the states where slavery already existed only sank it deeper into the vitals of the body politic. Second: That if the spread of slavery was to be prevented, it must never be allowed to obtain the slightest foothold in new territory, because, as had been demonstrated in Kentucky, once entrenched, it seemed to thrive and nourish upon opposition. A few months after Lincoln had returned to Springfield, he and John T. Stuart, his former law partner, were driving home in a buggy from court in Tazewell County. As they neared the village of Dillon, they began discussing the political situation. "As we were coming down the hill," says Stuart, "I said 'Lincoln, the time is coming when we shall have to be either all Abolitionists or Democrats.' He thought a moment and then answered ruefully and emphatically, 'When that time comes my mind is made up, for I believe the slavery question can never be successfully compromised.' " 31 THIRTEEN The Buried Years On SATURDAY, January 26, 1850, the Observer announced the death of Mary Lincoln's grandmother: "At her residence in this city, on Monday night last," said that newspaper, "Mrs. Elizabeth R. Parker died at an advanced age. Mrs. Parker was one of the oldest residents of our city, and was universally esteemed and beloved by all who knew her for her many ex- cellent qualities. She was an exemplary member of the Presby- terian Church and died in the full hope of the Christian." Mrs. Parker was in feeble health when the Lincolns were in Lexington, and the ordeal of testifying in the Wickliffe suit had heavily taxed her waning strength. She had outlived her husband fifty years, and on the previous Christmas Eve, realizing that the end was near, she had written her will, making special provisions for her slaves. "Being weak in body, but sound in mind," she said, "it is my earnest wish that my servants Pru- dence, Ann and Cyrus have their freedom given them," and she provided an annuity which her executor should "pay over to Prudence as long as she may live." 1 THE BURIED YEARS 193 The news about "Grandma" Parker found the Lincolns in deep anxiety over an illness in their own family. Four-year-old Eddie, whose name had appeared so frequently in the corre- spondence between Mary and her husband during the summer of 1848 and who had wept over the plight of the homeless kitten in his Grandmother Todd's kitchen at Lexington, was desperately ill with a disease that baffled the attending physi- cians. For more than seven endless weeks Mary and her hus- band sat beside the little cot in the upstairs bedroom, striving desperately against fate. Then, on the morning of February 1, as drizzling rain dripped from the wide eaves of the house on Eighth Street, little Eddie died. 2 "As you make no mention of it, I suppose you had not learned that we lost our little boy," wrote Lincoln sadly to his stepbrother nearly a month later. "He was sick fifty two days & died the morning of the first day of this month. It was not our first , but our second child. We miss him very much." 3 Shaken and disconsolate in their first great sorrow, seeking escape from surroundings that constantly reminded them of their little son, Mary and her husband took advantage of busi- ness in connection with the settlement of the Parker estate and came back to Lexington several weeks after Eddie's death. It was Lincoln's first visit in springtime, and now he saw the Bluegrass country in its fairest aspect. Violets, redbud, and lilacs were blooming; gentle showers had washed the wood- lands fresh and green; crystal brooks were running full over moss-grown riffles through the meadows toward the winding, forked Elkhorn. But Lincoln was in no mood to appreciate the artistry of nature. Try as he might, he could not shake off the gloom that enshrouded him. Frequently he found himself pondering the mystery of the hereafter and, as it seemed to him, the improb- ability of immortality. During his early manhood at New Salem copies of Volney's Ruins and Paine's Age of Reason had fallen into his hands. Profoundly influenced by them, he had 194 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS occasionally argued against some of the doctrines of Chris- tianity. 4 After he went to Springfield and began the practice of law, these problems had given him less concern, and since entering politics, he rarely or never discussed religion. But now in the shadow of bereavement the old doubts and mis- givings rose up to perplex him again. One day while browsing aimlessly in the Todd library, Lincoln came upon a thick volume of 364 pages bound in heavy sheepskin with a title page that attracted his attention. It read: "The Christian's Defense, Containing a fair statement and impartial examination of the leading objections urged by infidels against the antiquity, genuineness, creditability and inspiration of the Holy Scriptures, enriched by copious ex- tracts from learned authors." 5 The name of the writer caught his eye. He was Dr. James Smith, formerly of Shelbyville, Ken- tucky, now pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in Spring- field, the preacher who had conducted the funeral of Lincoln's little boy. Rather curiously he began reading the preface. Like Lin- coln, the author stated that he had been called a deist in early life, had read the Age of Reason and Volney's Ruins, and that "led astray by the sophisms of Volney and Paine, without de- manding proofs or seeking objections, he jumped at the con- clusion that Religion was a fraud contrived to govern mankind." As he read on, Lincoln found that the pugnacious Scot not only denied the conclusions of Hume, Volney, Paine, Taylor, and other noted infidels, but boldly and effectively returned their fire shot for shot. In short, closely knit sentences, he forcefully argued the inspiration of the Bible and "the great miracle which lies at the foundation of Christianity, the resur- rection of Jesus Christ." It was at once apparent that the author possessed a tremendous grasp of his subject, and with a growing interest Lincoln was reading the book in earnest when family difficulties intervened. 6 The Widow Todd, as administratrix of Robert S. Todd's estate, had filed an action in the Fayette Circuit Court to dis- THE BURIED YEARS 195 solve the partnership of Oldham, Todd & Company, and wind up the decedent's affairs. Dr. George Todd, the youngest of the first children, who had prevented the probate of the will, now consulted Lincoln, as a representative of the Springfield heirs, with a long list of grievances against his stepmother. 7 She had, according to Todd, failed to list among the assets of the estate a valuable quantity of silverware which she had "appropriated to her own use." She had also failed to give the appraisers certain "slaves and other livestock," and had sold one of the slaves without accounting for the money. George complained bitterly of Mrs. Todd's settled hostility and charged that he had been compelled to leave "his father's house in con- sequence of the malignant & continued attempts on the part of his stepmother to poison the mind of his father toward him, and that Robert S. Todd, mortified that his last child by his first wife should be obliged, like all his other first children, to abandon his house by the relentless persecution of a step- mother, agreed to pay his son's medical tuition fee, if he would return home, which he did." George insisted that his sisters, Elizabeth Edwards, Frances Wallace, Mary Lincoln, and Ann Smith, should join him in a suit against Mrs. Todd to compel restitution of the property. To this recital of grievances Lincoln replied that he under- stood that the silverware had been given to Mrs. Todd as Christmas presents by her husband, who had caused her initials to be engraved on the various pieces; that the slaves which she had not listed in her inventory were received from her mother under an arrangement which provided for their ulti- mate emancipation and had never belonged to Robert S. Todd; that Mrs. Todd had retained no property belonging to the estate except that to which she was entitled as dower. He fur- ther informed his brother-in-law that he had investigated the sale of the slave and had found that Robert S. Todd at the time of his death owned a Negro named Bill who was unruly and was then confined in one of Robards' jails in Lexington, that Todd had requested on his deathbed that this slave be 196 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS sold, which was done, and the proceeds applied to the payment of a debt he owed at the bank. Lincoln strongly advised his impetuous relative against such a suit and declined to allow any of the other heirs to partici- pate. He pointed out that the widow with her small children and the settlement of a complicated estate on her hands already bore a heavy burden. But instead of taking the advice of his brother-in-law, and indignant at his attitude, George filed a bill of complaint, making Lincoln and all the other first chil- dren defendants, which, though vigorously prosecuted, was, as predicted, without avail. Settlement of the Parker estate, the chief reason for Lin- coln's present trip to Lexington, next demanded his attention. Mary's grandfather, Robert Parker, had left his property by will to his wife Elizabeth for life, with remainder to her chil- dren. Now that she was dead, the heirs of Eliza Parker Todd were entitled to their share of the estate. After a consultation among all the heirs, it was agreed that a partition suit should be brought in the Fayette Circuit Court to divide the con- siderable real estate holdings in the city of Lexington. 8 Business finished, Lincoln took his departure several days later, leaving Mary and their son Robert for a more extensive visit with Mrs. Todd at "Buena Vista." He had not been able to finish The Christian's Defense while at Lexington, but he had read enough to make him seek an interview with Dr. Smith upon his return to Springfield. Thomas Lewis, whose law office adjoined Lincoln's, was an elder in Dr. Smith's church, and Lewis introduced him to the author of The Christian's Defense , who afterward said of that interview: "I found him much depressed and downcast at the death of his son and with- out the consolation of the Gospel." Following his talk with the minister, Lincoln borrowed the author's own copy of the book, and thereafter rented a pew in the First Presbyterian Church, which he kept as long as he lived in Springfield. Un- doubtedly Smith's book had a permanent influence on the religious views of Abraham Lincoln. 9 THE BURIED YEARS 197 Throughout the spring and summer of 1850 Lincoln fol- lowed with grave interest the stirring events then going on in Congress. 10 The old slavery volcano was again in eruption, and the Senate was swept by fiery debates. California had ap- plied for admission to the Union as a free state; New Mexico and Utah were ready to organize into territories. The South was determined that the power of the free states should not be increased, and threats of disunion were loud and violent. In the midst of all the clamor and excitement the venerable Sage of Ashland was the central figure above the footlights in the last great drama of his long and brilliant career. Summoned by Kentucky from retirement at Lexington, Clay gathered his failing strength for a final effort to save his dis- tracted country. Lincoln had been in Lexington on the very day that the aged statesman climbed feebly into his carriage and started eastward to meet the impending crisis. Eagerly the former congressman read all the speeches that appeared in the newspapers. He was gathering knowledge and forming convictions which would set his course and nerve his arm in the tragic days of the future. 11 The Lexington press devoted many columns to the activities of the man whose policies, ex- cept on the slavery question, it had supported with unswerving devotion for more than forty years. The compromise measures presented by Clay provoked furi- ous discussion, and Jefferson Davis with other southern senators denounced them in contemptuous terms. But the silvery-haired gladiator stood his ground, parried their thrusts, and delivered mighty blows in return. When Barnwell of South Carolina rose and criticized the senator from Kentucky for denouncing a secession speech made by Rhett at a public meeting in Charles- ton, intimating that the opinions of the speaker might be those of South Carolina herself, Clay was on his feet in an instant. "Mr. President," he replied, "I said nothing with respect to the character of Mr. Rhett. I know him personally and have some respect for him. But, if he pronounced the senti- ments attributed to him of raising the standard of disunion 198 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS and of resistance to the common government, whatever he has been, if he follows up that declaration by corresponding overt acts"— the old man's fingers clenched and he turned his flashing eyes upon the South Carolina senator— "he will be a traitor and I hope he will meet the fate of a traitor." 12 Wearily the debates dragged along through the month of June into hot, sultry days of midsummer. Then on a morning late in July all the corridors leading to the Senate chamber were thronged with an eager crowd that vainly sought access to the galleries already packed with a perspiring, restless mass of humanity. The House of Representatives was deserted. Its members were jammed in the aisles and behind the last row of desks on the Senate floor. The gay bonnets and brilliant gowns of the ladies in the audience gave a picturesque embellishment to the occasion. The scene was reminiscent of other years when Calhoun, Clay, and Webster— young, ambitious, and in the full vigor of man- hood—stood on the very pinnacle of their glory, but today the great triumvirate was broken. Exhausted by his desperate ef- forts in behalf of a doomed cause, Calhoun had been three months in his grave, where his two aged colleagues, who had carried his wasted body to its last resting place, were soon to follow him. Over near the chair of the Vice-President sat Webster. Time had bleached and thinned his once dark, heavy hair. The weight of years had bent his massive frame; the luster had vanished from those deep-set eyes that now gazed so dreamily, so retrospectively, from beneath his somber, overhanging brow. At his desk near the center aisle sat Henry Clay, the oldest of the immortal three. Gaunt, haggard, worn out by the long struggle, he spasmodically clutched his sunken chest in an effort to stifle the hollow cough that racked him night and day. Then, as the gavel of the Vice-President fell, the old man feebly rose to his feet in the midst of thunderous applause and, with every eye upon him, slowly addressed the chair. At the beginning his voice faltered badly, and the spectators bent THE BURIED YEARS 199 forward with hands cupped about their ears to catch the indis- tinct words that came from his tremulous lips. But as he pro- ceeded, his strength gradually returned; the loud rasping cough grew fainter and ceased; the tall form straightened to full height; the infirmities of age seemed to disappear— gallant Harry of the West, with sonorous accents and irresistible charm of manner, stood once more in the forum. 13 In tones of deepest pathos the senator from Kentucky pleaded for the preservation of the Union. With sweeping gestures he hurled defiance at those who would take the nation's life: Mr. President, I have said that I want to know whether we are bound together by a rope of sand or an effective capable govern- ment competent to enforce the powers therein vested by the Con- stitution of the United States. And what is this doctrine of Nulli- fication, set up again, revived, resuscitated, neither enlarged nor improved, nor expanded in this new edition of it, that when a single state shall undertake to say that a law passed by the twenty- nine states is unconstitutional and void, she may raise the standards of resistance and defy the twenty-nine. Sir, I denied that doctrine twenty years ago— I deny it now— I will die denying it. There is no such principle. . . . The Honorable Senator speaks of Virginia being my country. This Union is my country. The thirty states is my country. Ken- tucky is my country. And Virginia no more than any of the other states of this Union. She has created on my part obligations and feelings and duties toward her in my private character which noth- ing upon earth could induce me to forfeit or violate. But even if it were my own state— if my own state, contrary to her duty, should raise the standard of disunion against the residue of the Union, I would go against her, I would go against Kentucky in that con- tingency as much as I love her. The galleries broke out in a storm of applause, and as order was restored, Mr. Clay proceeded: Nor am I to be alarmed or dissuaded from any such course by intimations of the spilling of blood. If blood is to be spilt by whose fault is it to be spilt? Upon the supposition, I maintain it would 200 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS be the fault of those who raised the standard of disunion and en- deavored to prostrate this government, and, Sir, when that is done, as long as it please God to give me voice to express my sentiments, or an arm, weak and enfeebled as it may be by age, that voice and that arm will be on the side of my country, for the support of the general authority, and for the maintenance of the power of this Union. 14 As the concluding words of his last great speech died away and Clay sank exhausted into his seat, pandemonium broke loose on the floor and in the galleries. Heedless of all parlia- mentary restraints, men and women rushed down the aisles and clambered over desks and benches to shake his hand and kiss his quivering, tear-stained cheeks. 15 The aged senator had made, perhaps, his greatest oratorical effort. For him it was a personal triumph, but his cause was momentarily lost. He retired to the peaceful atmosphere of Newport to escape the sultry summer in Washington. The task of reopening the compromise issue fell to the rising Demo- cratic senator from Illinois, Stephen A. Douglas. When Congress adjourned on September 20, 1850, all of Clay's compromise proposals had been adopted, and Lincoln believed, as did many others, that the slavery question was settled for all time; that Congress, as he later said, had put "the seal of legislation against its spread and all had acquiesced in the compromise measures of 1850." Now that the great issue seemed closed, Lincoln felt that his political days were over. He had suffered keen disappoint- ment that no popular demand arose for his re-election to Con- gress. "There is nothing about me which would authorize me to think of a first class office," he had confided to Joshua Speed, "and a second class one would not compensate me for being snarled at by others who want it for themselves." 16 So, forsaking politics, as he thought, for ever, Lincoln now settled down to the practice of law with more diligence and energy than ever before. THE BURIED YEARS 201 Once again he began to ride regularly the Eighth Judicial Circuit, composed of fourteen counties stretching from Sanga- mon on the west a distance of 120 miles to Vermilion on the east at the Indiana line. The country was sparsely settled, and in spring and fall the mud was deep, the rivers and creeks were swollen and treacherous. Some members of the bar visited only a few of the most accessible county seats in the district, while others made nearly all of them. Only three, however— David Davis, the presiding judge, Abraham Lincoln, and Leon- ard Swett— rode the entire circuit; Davis because he had to; Lincoln and Swett because they loved it. Always scrupulously clean and smoothly shaved, but clad in an ill-fitting suit with the coat sleeves and trousers several inches too short, his tall, battered stovepipe hat looking "as if a calf had gone over it with its wet tongue," carrying an old saddlebag filled with books, papers, and change of linen, and a huge, faded, green cotton umbrella, the knob gone from the handle and a piece of twine tied around it to keep it from falling open, with "A. Lincoln" in large muslin letters sewed inside— Lincoln was the drollest figure and the most popular lawyer in all the fourteen counties. Hotel accommodations on the circuit were usually of the worst sort; food was poorly cooked; the bedrooms were small and often anything but clean, and so crowded during court week that four or five lawyers frequently slept in the same room; while defendants on trial, witnesses, lawyers, jurors, and judge all sat at one long table in the dining room. Yet in spite of hardships and discomforts the circuit had its brighter side and compensating joys. In the evening, after court had adjourned, a gay and versatile group would gather in Judge Davis' room. There was Davis himself, the dignified judge while on the bench, but off of it the affable companion that loved a laugh. There was Logan, the scholarly; Stuart, the shrewd and kindly; Swett, the clever; Baker, the handsome; Lamon, the amusing; Oglesby, the eloquent; Campbell, the musical; and Ficklin, and Somers, and, always, the tall, angular, 202 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS genial favorite— Lincoln. Hour after hour would swiftly pass in song and story, and Judge Davis' fat sides would shake as Lincoln related some humorous anecdote in his droll, inim- itable way. Then, after midnight, when the merry crowd had dispersed and retired, Lincoln, with a candle at the head of the bed, his long legs protruding over the footboard, would read Shakes- peare or Burns until far into the hours of the morning, ap- parently unmindful of the lusty snoring of Judge Davis or his other roommates. 17 Lincoln had just returned to Springfield from a trip on the circuit when a dispatch from Washington on Tuesday, June 29, 1852, announced the death of Henry Clay. For several weeks the old statesman had been sinking steadily in his apart- ments at the National Hotel. "One of the most remarkable phenomena," said the Springfield Illinois Daily Journal, "ac- companying the sickness and gradual dissolution of Mr. Clay, was a species of second sight—a living dream, . . . which brought to his bedside not only the persons of his living friends, but also those who had departed this life for many years. What a blessing it must have been to a man of such warm affections as Mr. Clay, to be thus surrounded by all he loved— to have the grave, which was about to encompass him, surrender the dead, by the magic attraction of his departing spirit." 18 That evening a large crowd of Springfield citizens assembled at the courthouse "for the purpose of making arrangements to commemorate the event that has filled the land with sor- row. . . . Honorable Abraham Lincoln was called to the chair," and after several speeches had been made, the chairman ap- pointed a committee of thirteen citizens to make "suitable arrangements" to be reported at an adjourned meeting on the following night. On Wednesday evening the committee made its report and plans were adopted for "paying a tribute of respect to the Memory of Henry Clay." Tuesday, July 6, was &~> ,/?t^4^~^&£*~4L**%S jfi***-*** JL^^ZZ^y fh~-*^4U-j ^C^%-^> -^C^rT-^-t^, yX^<~~~~*^y /C^J-^Za^^^ c^ ^k*-«^ ^*Q/w ,*/~-~~s _zj^^o /v^>wsw; — - ,/ y^^^^y zzr ^u^^K,«rA"- ^^ £^C> £^0*^, itSSL^i^^^L, fh~~<}^~ Jf /a^TTI-~4~**>^ /*-*?" ~2ZZ^** /O\^o^ C^, &4£^..<^^ l &f t lie,, fa«j &£>. lK,o Ikpu £ryL*J ^yLc^^^^u^C erf* gUZg; t*s~fc*-*~o (hj&**i, iS fcj£ fLA^^C ^L^_J2^ £>£*^zr£^ jfc& P-jf^, lyVa^cZj ^^m\r *fjn~ f~j^k~cjz> a? a-/ Abraham Lincoln to Cassius M. Clay REBELLION 267 Vice-President Breckinridge then arose and in a calm firm voice announced that the two houses were assembled to count the electoral votes for President and Vice-President of the United States. "It is my duty," he said, "to open the certificates of election in the presence of the two Houses, and I now proceed to the performance of that duty." No one knew the gravity of the occasion better than the chairman. None realized more than he that fully three fourths of those who sat beneath the vaulted dome were armed to the teeth and that the slightest spark might touch off a shocking conflagration. But those who expected John C. Breckinridge to stultify his high office by a conspiracy to overthrow the gov- ernment did not know the man. Firmly believing the triumph of the Republican party to be a menace to the South, he would shortly return his commission as senator to his constituents in Kentucky, forsaking fame and fortune under the Stars and Bars. But today he was the presiding officer of the federal Senate, and Jupiter never ruled a council of Olympus with a firmer hand. A southern member arose, but the chairman anticipated him. "Except questions of order, no motions can be enter- tained," he declared. The senator stated that he wished to raise a point of order. "Is the count of the electoral vote to proceed under menace?" he shouted. "Shall members be required to perform a Con- stitutional duty before the Janizaries of General Scott are with- drawn from the hall?" "The point of order is not sustained," ruled Breckinridge emphatically, and he directed the count to proceed. Slowly one after another the long sealed envelopes contain- ing the votes of the various states were opened. "Maine for Lincoln" was followed by a slight ripple of applause. "South Carolina for Breckinridge" was lost in an outburst of hand clapping quickly and sternly suppressed by the presiding of- ficer. Then, in a breathless silence and with profound attention 268 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS on the part of all present, John C. Breckinridge arose from his seat, standing erect, the most dignified and imposing person in that presence: ''Abraham Lincoln," he announced with a distinctness that carried his mellow voice to the most distant corner of the gal- lery, "having received a majority of the whole number of elec- toral votes, is duly elected President of the United States for the four years beginning on the Fourth of March, 1861." 52 A few days later the President-elect reached Washington, and his enemies heaped a boisterous, stinging ridicule upon him for yielding to the insistence of his advisers and making a secret night trip from Harrisburg to the capital because of an alleged plot to assassinate him as he came through Baltimore. The following newspaper comments on this episode were read on the streets of Lexington and other Kentucky towns: Lincoln said in Philadelphia before Independence Hall that he would rather be assassinated than abandon the principles of the Declaration of Independence, but within a week he ran from the first whisperings of danger as fleetly as ever a naked-legged High- lander pursued a deer upon Scotia's hills. The men who made the Declaration of Independence did not make it good in that way. They fought for their rights. Lincoln runs for his. The inference is, they could best maintain its principles by fighting; Lincoln, his by running. Let all men use the talent that is given them. . . . Lin- coln is said to be a Kentuckian by birth. We now have our doubts on that point. No Kentucky-born man ever would have run all the way from Harrisburg to Washington, with but the ghost of an enemy in sight. 53 SIXTEEN Stirring Days in Kentucky JVlARCH 4, 1861, dawned raw and gusty— an anxious, mem- orable day in the national capital. A President of the United States was to be inaugurated— possibly for the last time under the government established by the Fathers. Despite low mut- terings of the approaching storm, streets and public buildings were profusely decorated, and the Stars and Stripes floated bravely from every flagstaff. The military had always borne a conspicuous part in inaugural ceremonies, but today the alertness of infantry and cavalry, with strategically planted bat- teries of field artillery and sharpshooters on top of the buildings along Pennsylvania Avenue, gave an atmosphere of ominous gravity to the occasion. By noontime the wooden platform erected at the east por- tico of the Capitol was surrounded by a motley and mildly curious assemblage. The stand itself was filled with robed justices of the Supreme Court, senators, representatives, at- taches of foreign countries, and prominent leaders of the Re- publican party. 270 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Presently the long, lank figure of the President-elect ap- peared on the rotunda, and with Chief Justice Taney and the clerk of the Supreme Court walked slowly down the center aisle to the front of the platform. He was visibly self-conscious in a rather tight-fitting black broadcloth suit, and he held a gold-headed cane stiffly in his left hand. Taking the manu- script of the inaugural address from his breast pocket, he laid it with the cane on a little rickety table. As he glanced about for a more suitable place to put his hat, the short, sturdy arm of Stephen A. Douglas reached forward and relieved him of it. Then, while Lincoln delivered one of the masterpieces of Eng- lish prose, the Little Giant sat and listened attentively, nodding his shaggy head now and then with approval, holding "Old Abe's" tall, shiny new hat in his lap all the while. 1 That evening Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln attended the Inaugural Ball, and the Lexington newspapers published vivid descrip- tions of the presidential couple at this function. It is eleven o'clock [said the Statesman']. The orchestra has struck up "Hail to the Chief" and all eyes are turned to the main en- trance. He comes (the chief) with the Mayor on his right and a stout man, who looks like a Pennsylvania iron manufacturer, on his left, and with these conductors, Old Abe walks down the hall between the lines of the assemblage, very much like a man in a dream. One lady observes: "Old Abe, as I live, is tipsy. Look at that funny smile." But Old Abe was simply fatigued, and perhaps a little bit distracted with the bewildering events of the last twenty- four hours. 2 The far more flattering reference to Mrs. Lincoln would have delighted the heart of Mme. Mentelle, had Mary's old teacher lived six months longer. 3 Mrs. Lincoln [continued the account], who followed in his wake, on the arms of the self-possessed Senator Douglas, is still more self- possessed, and has, evidently, with more readiness adapted herself than her taller half to the exalted station in which she has been so strangely advanced from the simple social life of the little inland STIRRING DAYS IN KENTUCKY 271 capital of Illinois. Women learn such things much faster than men. Mrs. L. shows us in her choice of blue on this occasion, as the color which suits her fair complexion best, that she is no stranger to the beautiful science of the toilet. She dresses tastefully. She seems to feel that her station is as high as that of any of the queens of the earth, and yet she does not with all her dignity, mingle any sign of hauteur. 4 With the ordeal of the inaugural ceremonies over, Lincoln turned to the task "greater," as he said, "than that which rested upon Washington." 5 Day after day the corridors leading to the executive offices were choked with a surging tide of office seekers that beat relentlessly upon the gaunt, gloomy man who sat at the big walnut desk beneath a cracked oil painting of doughty, imperious Andrew Jackson. Henry Clay's son Thomas, a stanch Union man, interviewed Lincoln and next day recommended the appointment of Hiram Shaw of Lexington and William V. Wolfe of Louisville as army paymasters. Lincoln wrote on the back of Clay's letter: "For the sake of Kentucky and the memory of Henry Clay I would like these appointments to be made as soon as practicable." 6 Kentuckians especially besieged the White House in droves on one pretext or another. The Washington newspapers an- nounced the presence of "100 Todds and all wanting office." Young, ebullient Sam Suddarth, who had been a delegate from Kentucky to the convention that had nominated Bell and Everett, wrote back home a jocular account of his trip to Washington and, in doing so, drew the most vivid description of the Lincoln of Civil War years ever recorded by a Ken- tuckian. He and two friends from Frankfort, Kentucky, who felt that they had claims on the new government, spent the first night of their journey at the Burnet House in Cincinnati. They "left next morning 8c that day passed through Ohio to Pittsburgh— got there about dark, but the train only stopped ten minutes." Upon arrival, wrote Suddarth, 272 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS I felt a little dry, and knowing I had but 10 minutes to go on, I struck out in search of a 5 cent house. I soon found it— green doors you know. In I went, called out the liquor 8c drank and gave the keeper a dime, he commenced very slowly to hunt up the change. I soon saw his game that he would delay finding the change until the cars starting would force me to leave without it. He kept fumbling for the change— the whistle sounded— what must be done! Must I be left or lose my five cents? Neither! I snatched up the bottle and took another pigdriver, told him he needn't mind; and with a loud Ky. laugh jumped aboard and sped away feeling none the worse of it. When they reached Washington, Suddarth and his com- panions went to the Executive Mansion and announced them- selves to Lincoln's secretary as "some Gentlemen from Ky. who desired to see Mr. president on business." Soon they were ushered into his office. Mr. Lincoln shook us cordially by the hand [said Suddarth], and received us in so natural and unostentatious a manner, and with that kind of unaffected, plain and native urbanity, as to dispel all embarrassment and cause us to feel entirely easy. His conversational powers are fine— and his custom of inter- spersing his conversation with incidents, anecdotes and witticisms are well calculated to impress his hearers with the kindheartedness of the man. And they are so adroitly and delicately mingled in the thread of his discourse that one hardly notices the digression. His language is good, though not select. Yet very strong, pointed and forcible, though never harsh. His sentences exceedingly short though full and complete. Whatever may be said of some of his political notions, history will record him as one of the most remarkable men of modern times. He is dignified in his manners and address, without austerity. Self poised and clear in his perceptions. 7 However, there were others farther south who sharply dis- agreed with Suddarth about Lincoln. The Louisville Daily Courier of March 23, 1861, widely circulated in the Bluegrass, carried on its front page the following letter— omitting signa- ture—which its editor said he had received from a prominent member of Congress. STIRRING DAYS IN KENTUCKY 273 Willard Hotel Washington March 1, 1861 I was called here to vote in the House and will return to Rich- mond tomorrow. The Republican party is utterly demoralized, disrupted and broken up. Cameron and Chase, Weed and Greely can never affiliate. Lincoln is a cross between a sand-hill crane and an Andalusian Jackass. He is, by all odds, the weakest man who has ever been elected— worse than Taylor and he was bad enough. ... I was sent for by him. I speak what I know. He is vain, weak, puerile, hypocritical, without manners, without social grace, and as he talks to you, punches his fists under your ribs. He swears equal to Uncle Toby, and in every particular, morally and mentally, I have lost all respect for him. He is surrounded by a set of toad eaters and bottle-throwers, and did not know what the Adams amendment was until I told him. In addition to this, I am com- pletely satisfied he is an Abolitionist of the Lovejoy and Sumner type. Such is your God; Oh! Israel! Late in March, Mary's cousin, Dr. Lyman Beecher Todd, arrived in Washington seeking appointment as postmaster at Lexington. Though Judge Robertson, Cassius M. Clay, and other friends of the President urged the claims of another ap- plicant, Todd got the job without much effort. On the day he left for home, while Mary waited downstairs with the car- riage to take him to the train, Todd went in to say good-by to the President. "Doctor," said Lincoln with a warm parting handshake, "I wish you would see that the Lexington papers are sent here to the White House. The Observer has been coming to our home ever since Mary and I were married and I reckon there's no better weather-cock for Kentucky politics just now." 8 The Lexington newspapers were as divided on the burning question of the hour as were their readers. The Observer called its contemporary, the Statesman, a "disunion paper, open and avowed," and was in turn sneer ingly dubbed by it a "Lincoln administration organ, a coercion, subjugation paper." The 274 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS Observer had found Lincoln's inaugural address "temperate, peaceful and national," but the Statesman declared that the people of the Bluegrass regarded it as "radical, sectional and abhorrent. . . . Lincoln's silly speeches, his ill-timed jocularity and his pusillanimous evasion of responsibility and vulgar pet- tifoggery," declared that secessionist organ, "have no parallel in history, save the crazy capers of Caligula, or in the effeminate buffoonery of Henry of Valois." 9 The Reverend Mr. Pratt had been greatly disturbed about the local situation since the firing on Fort Sumter. Next day he wrote in his diary: News reached us that war had commenced between the Federal and Confederate troops at Ft. Sumter in the harbor of South Caro- lina. Our hearts are filled with sadness and great gloom in the community. There are many Secessionists that I have no doubt rejoice at it, for its effect to array the whole south to a united Con- federacy against the north, but the majority of people in Ky. are union men & it is distressing to us to see sections of our nation thus arrayed in warlike hostility & that blood has commenced to flow. What will the end be? The Lord only knows. I have prayed & so have thousands of others for the preservation of the union. But Jehovah reigns k we know not what will be his judgments or his mercies. 10 Hundreds of young army officers were resigning their com- missions to join the Confederacy, and President Lincoln, cast- ing about for material to fill these vacancies, sent for his broth- er-in-law, Ben Hardin Helm. Young Helm was a graduate of West Point, the son of a former governor of Kentucky, a stanch Democrat, and the husband of "Little Sister" Emilie Todd. Upon his arrival in Washington, Lincoln offered his kinsman a commission in the United States Army. "Emilie will be a belle at the White House receptions and we will be so proud of her," urged Mary, "and we need handsome, scholarly, dig- nified young men like yourself to ornament our army." "You have been kind and generous to me beyond anything I have known," Helm told the President. "I have no claim STIRRING DAYS IN KENTUCKY 275 on you for I opposed your candidacy and did what I could for the election of another, but with no unkindly feelings to- ward you." He was silent for a moment. "I wish I could see my way— I will try to do what is right," he said thoughtfully. "You will have my answer in a few days." 11 During the remainder of the week Lincoln's young brother- in-law wrestled mightily with fate. He saw many of his old comrades of West Point days and had a long talk with Colonel Robert E. Lee, who had just sent in his resignation to the secretary of war. But he was still undecided as he left the White House for Kentucky. "Ben," said Lincoln, handing Helm an envelope which con- tained a major's commission, "here is something for you. Think it over for yourself and let me know what you will do." "Good-by," said Mary, sending a kiss for Emilie, "we hope very soon to see you both in Washington." 12 The two men lingeringly clasped hands, and then Helm walked slowly down the stairs and out to meet the Yankee bullet that awaited him on the distant gory battlefield of Chick- amauga. Other Lexington friends called at the White House during these early days. The visits of Senator John C. Breckinridge were always occasions for caustic badinage between Mary and the friend of her childhood. "Cousin Lizzie," said Breckinridge teasingly one evening to Mary's cousin, Mrs. Grimsley, "I would not like you to be disappointed in your expected stay at the White House, so I will now invite you to remain here as a guest, when the Con- federacy takes possession." "We will be only too happy to entertain her until that time, Senator," quickly replied Mrs. Lincoln with lofty sarcasm. 13 The middle of April, 1861, found Washington feverish with anxiety. The Stars and Stripes had been hauled down from the shattered ramparts of Fort Sumter. Virginia had se- ceded. Riots were imminent at Baltimore. Lincoln had issued 276 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS a call for 75,000 volunteers. It was rumored that Harpers Ferry had fallen and that a large force of Confederate troops was marching on Washington. Alarmists crowded the corri- dors of the Executive Mansion, striving to reach the President with lurid warnings of a mob that was about to storm the White House and carry him off across the Potomac. Except for a company of regulars from Minnesota and a small detachment of unarmed Pennsylvania volunteers, Wash- ington lay undefended from treason within and assault from without. In a frantic effort to make every possible show of military force, the government announced that arms would gladly be furnished to all patriotic citizens who offered their service in defense of the city. Throughout these perilous days and sleepless nights Lincoln bore the terrible suspense with outward calm, but some of the weight must have been lifted from his heavy heart by the sight that met his eyes as he drove out of the White House grounds on the afternoon of April 18. Up Pennsylvania Avenue came the tramp of marching feet. Swinging around the corner of the Treasury was a column of more than two hundred men, young, vigorous, upstanding chaps. They were without uniforms and there was no rhythm in their step, but their belts bulged with cartridges, and each man carried a new untarnished musket on his shoulder. At the head of the motley company, with long easy strides marched a tall, erect, sinewy individual of robust middle age, whose thick dark hair was turning slightly gray above the temples. With a big cavalry saber buckled about his waist and a wicked- looking, horn-handle knife strapped across his broad chest, he seemed in buoyant spirits at the prospects of approaching con- flict. Lincoln did not need to be told that this jaunty crusader was Cash Clay of Kentucky, who had hastily organized a band of rollicking young adventurers called the "Clay Battalion," that was now on its way to the defense of the navy yard. 14 When in a few days regular military enforcements began to arrive in Washington and the immediate peril was over, the STIRRING DAYS IN KENTUCKY 277 President issued an order thanking Clay for his services. Call- ing him to the White House, Lincoln presented him with a Colt's revolver "as a testimonial of his regards." 15 In this interview Clay found the President deeply anxious about Kentucky. 16 The Lexington newspapers that came twice a week reflected the gravity of the situation along this most important border line of the South. The fall of Fort Sumter had been greeted by the wildest rejoicing from the young men of the Bluegrass. A week later an armed company of volun- teers from Cynthiana, with the Confederate flag flying, had passed through Lexington amid cheers for "Jeff Davis and Beauregard." John Hunt Morgan, captain of the Lexington Rifles, had wired Jefferson Davis: "Twenty thousand men can be raised to defend Southern liberty against Northern con- quest. Do you want them?" His brother, Dick Morgan, was "manufacturing a most beautiful and durable grey jean cloth expressly for the State Guard uniform." The advertisement stated significantly that the jean was of the "right color." 17 The members of the Todd family with but two exceptions were warmly supporting the new Confederacy. Mrs. Lincoln's oldest brother Levi, now almost an invalid, was for the Union, as was also her half sister, Margaret Kellogg. 18 But her young- est brother George and three half brothers— Samuel, David, and Alexander— had already joined the "rebel Army," while her half sisters— Emilie Helm, Martha White, and Elodie Daw- son— were the wives of Confederate officers. "When the Lincoln Administration inaugurated Civil War the people of Kentucky, if we may judge by the feeling in Lexington, by one spontaneous movement have rallied in un- broken columns to the side of their Southern brethren," said the Statesman, referring to Lincoln as the "miserable imbecil that now disgraces the Presidential chair." 19 John C. Breckinridge in an address to the citizens of Lex- ington on April 18 had declared that the "only means by which 278 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS a general civil war can be prevented is to confront Mr. Lincoln with fifteen united compact states to warn him that his unholy war is to be waged against 13,000,000 of freemen and fifteen sovereign states." 20 "I joined the Home Guards on Friday," wrote the Rev- erend Mr. Pratt on April 28, "& we elected Dr. E. Dudley as our Captain, near 200 of the citizens enrolled their names. In these times of War & confusion it becomes necessary to defend our homes." James B. Clay, the son of Henry Clay, had espoused "a united South," while Robert J. Breckinridge, Jr., was organiz- ing a military company for service under the Stars and Bars. Captain Morgan had a "most beautiful Confederate States Flag afloat over his woollen factory," and "other flags of similar character" were being "raised throughout the city." 21 "Lincoln has been drunk ever since his inauguration," reported the Statesman, "only going out at night in disguise to escape assas- sination." 22 For several hours Cash Clay and the President discussed the border situation in all its aspects. Clay expressed the con- viction that such men as Dr. Breckinridge, General Leslie Combs, Judge William C. Goodloe, Benjamin Gratz, and Judge Richard A. Buckner would never allow Kentucky to secede. He pointed out that these stalwart champions of the federal government were fortunately located in the heart of the region which must furnish the impetus for an alliance with the Con- federacy. Lincoln was much encouraged by this interview with Clay, but an event shortly occurred which dealt a serious blow to the Union cause in the Bluegrass. At two o'clock on the morning of May 24, 1861, under a brilliant moon, Colonel Elmer Ellsworth landed his famous regiment of Zouaves at Alexandria, Virginia, the first Union troops to invade the Old Dominion. A small detachment of rebel cavalry was captured, and the town was soon occupied, pickets were posted, and the soldiers were quartered, when STIRRING DAYS IN KENTUCKY 279 Colonel Ellsworth noticed a Confederate flag hoisted over the principal hotel, called the Marshall House. "Whose flag is that flying over this house?" demanded the colonel as he entered the lobby. Receiving an evasive answer, he dashed up the stairs with several soldiers at his heels, mount- ed to the roof, cut the halyards, and started down with the flag under his arm. As he reached the second landing, a door swung open; the owner of the premises, James T. Jackson, sprang out and discharged both barrels of a shotgun into Col- onel Ellsworth's breast, killing him instantly. A moment later Jackson's body was dragged down the stairs, impaled upon the bayonets of Ellsworth's infuriated comrades. The first blood of the Civil War had been shed on secession soil. The death of Colonel Ellsworth was Lincoln's first sorrow in the great conflict. 23 Having been virtually a member of the President's household, the young soldier's mutilated body was brought back to Washington and buried from the East Room of the White House. But in Kentucky tears were shed only for his slayer, who was the youngest brother of Dr. John Jack- son of Lexington. Indignation ran high at the news of his death. Those who favored secession now cited the tragedy as an example of "Lincoln's despotism" and urged Dr. Jackson's many friends to avenge the "murder" of his brother by shoul- dering arms for the South. "We rejoice in the death of Ellsworth and only regret that every man who followed him did not share the same fate," exclaimed the Statesman. "Mr. Jackson was too noble a man to fall a victim to the infamous thieves of Ellsworth's regiment. . . . We but express the heartfelt sympathy of every true South- ern man in this community, when we tender to our fellow citizen our sincere condolence." 24 On the very day of Colonel Ellsworth's death the Kentucky legislature, having proclaimed neutrality, with a Senate resolu- tion "That Kentucky will not sever her relation with the Na- tional government," adjourned sine die. Since January it had remained in almost continuous session. Governor Magoffin 280 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS and his henchmen had made determined efforts to force a resolution of secession, but throughout the protracted struggle they had been thwarted at every turn by Robert J. Breckin- ridge and his little band of loyal followers from the Bluegrass. Joshua Speed and his brother James from Louisville had ren- dered invaluable aid, but the burden of leadership had fallen upon the grizzled, pugnacious foe of rebellion, Dr. Breckin- ridge. Since his fast day sermon on January 4, through the press and from the platform Breckinridge had wielded a mighty influence for the preservation of the Union and against the secession of his beloved state. His paper, the Quarterly Re- view, breathing the strongest sentiments of loyalty to the Lin- coln administration, went regularly into thousands of homes in Kentucky, Missouri, and Maryland. And now that the legis- lature had adjourned with Kentucky still in the Union, the Doctor was swamped by congratulations from many parts of the country. 25 Not a few correspondents, however, took him to task for his hostility to the Confederacy. "You have done more than anyone else to bring about the present condition of affairs in your State," complained a citizen of Carthage, Tennessee. "Cut loose from the Bogus government at Washington, and let us build up a model government in the Sunny South." 26 For several months following Lincoln's election Kentucky had drifted steadily toward secession. Now the tide seemed to have turned, and the President hastened to extend every possible aid to the embattled Unionists of his native state. By the first of June Major Anderson, the hero of Fort Sumter, himself a Kentuckian, arrived in the Bluegrass. He carried a special commission which authorized him to recruit as many volunteer regiments as were willing to enlist in the service of the United States. Major Anderson found three splendidly equipped military companies in Lexington: the Rifles, the "Chasseurs," and the STIRRING DAYS IN KENTUCKY 281 Old Infantry. The latter two organizations were for the Union almost to a man, but the Rifles, commanded by the dashing John Hunt Morgan, leaned strongly toward the South. Captain G. L. Postlethwaite and Jesse Bayles, Robert S. Todd's old political ally and Lincoln's personal friend, were raising four companies of volunteers, who by the middle of June were parading in "blue flannels" on Cheapside. Major Anderson's first report to the President on condi- tions in central Kentucky was undoubtedly encouraging. In Lexington and Fayette County the underlying loyalty of the people was beginning to assert itself with cohesive force, much to the chagrin of the secession press. On June 14 the Henry Clay monument was completed in the Lexington cemetery. " 'When the statue was placed upon the capstone,' " quoted the Statesman from the Observer, " 'a flagstaff being fastened to the extended right hand of the figure, the Stars and Stripes were unfurled amid hearty cheers from the spectators beneath.' Were that great man now living," added the Statesman in disgust, "we solemnly believe he would trample upon that emblem of a perverted government and a violated constitution." 27 Lexington was beginning to receive her share of the five thousand "Lincoln guns" that had been shipped to Louisville for distribution to loyal citizens throughout Kentucky, and old and young were being secretly taught the manual of arms. "We have in each ward four companies of Union men," wrote David Sayre, seventy- four years of age, "but we are only half armed. My back office is quite an armory, having received guns and revolvers from Louisville and Cincinnati last week wherewith to arm our gallant followers, who are unable to incur the expense of procuring weapons." 28 Meanwhile, the President was keeping a cautious eye on the situation in Lexington, as indicated by the following letter: "Executive Mansion. July 29, 1861. Gentlemen of the Ken- tucky delegation, who are for the Union— I somewhat wish to authorize my friend Jesse Bayles to raise a Kentucky Regiment; 282 LINCOLN AND THE BLUEGRASS but I do not wish to do it without your consent. If you con- sent, please write so, at the bottom of this. Yours truly A. Lincoln." 29 And a week later he mildly urged the proposition again in a postscript: "I repeat, I would like for Col. Bayles to raise a Regiment of Cavalry, whenever the Union men of Kentucky, desire, or consent to it. Aug. 5, 1861. A. Lincoln." The Fourth of July, 1861, gave the Unionists of the Blue- grass an opportunity to demonstrate their strength, and they made the most of it by a mammoth celebration at Lexington. More than twenty thousand people were in town that day. The monument to Henry Clay was formally dedicated, the four companies of Home Guards paraded, and John Harlan delivered a "grand oration" at the fair grounds. 30 The en- thusiasm of the occasion gave a decisive impetus to the candi- dacy of Judge Richard A. Buckner, who was seeking re-election to the legislature against James B. Clay, an avowed disunionist. Buckner had been a faithful supporter of the Lincoln govern- ment at the recent session and had incurred the bitter enmity of those who would array Kentucky with the South. "It can- not be truthfully denied," said the Statesman, "that as Legis- lator he was behind none other in the House in giving to Ken- tucky her present apparent position of cordial support of the Lincoln administration." 31 While Lexington was celebrating Independence Day, Presi- dent Lincoln delivered his first message to the Thirty-Seventh Congress assembled in special session. He reviewed the out- break of rebellion, the efforts of the government to maintain its territorial integrity, the assault on Fort Sumter, his call for volunteers, and the present state of the country. The latter part of the message was devoted to an extensive analysis of the "State Sovereignty" doctrine under which the South claimed the constitutional right to withdraw from the Union. Tracing the political history of the nation from the days of colonial dependence, he showed that none of the states except Texas ever was a sovereignty and that even she had surrendered this status on coming into the Union. 32 I I Ea^lk ■»*»|B*B B*S BBft*»BB'i 9 JW». SB* LEXfNCiTOX. OC TOBEB 3d, 1862. OEISrEJFtAlL. ORDERS 3XTo. 132. The Genera! Commanding i««d hoped that the Currency of the Con- federals Mute* would have been t&kesi tit its pat* value. ::.:i\- .).!•■:: ::i':j. i: .■..^•iiilliill.., , ; ". :"' ■ ■■ ' ■■■:, ;./:■':; .-":-:;;:;::: ; :: : ;: : ;;; ; n?;!:;;;:;.:i!;;i;;:;.:!;: ; •■- : r ; : ; ■ ■•- ■-;. ...:. H-Si " ■ mmmffm ::::: ■ : .:::: :: .:::: : : : . '-'■"■"■■■' ; ■ ■■■■■:■::■ .;: : .i:,; :j:;: : :i:-: ; :iiHi:;;=;^^ : = : i:; , : : '" THE AUTHOR, WILLIAM H. TOWNSEND, offspring of a stanchly Confederate family, be- gan early to collect Civil War materials, but he was almost thirty before he owned anything about Lincoln. His second Lincoln book led to an acquaintance with its author, the late Wil- liam E. Barton, and Mr. Townsend became a confirmed Lincolnian. Today he has one of the largest private collections of Lincolniana in the United States. William H. Townsend is also the author of Abraham Lincoln, Defendant (1923), Lincoln the Litigant (1925), Lincoln and His Wife's Home Town (1929), and Lincoln and Liquor (1934). UNIVERSITY OF KENTUCKY PRESS **$&. jj^^MXW* % A View of Main Stmt, Lexington. Kentucky, Looking [ro w the Phoenix Hotel obouTIM