Produced by David Widger
ABRAHAM LINCOLN
THE TRUE STORY OF A GREAT LIFE
By William H. Herndon And Jesse W. Weik
With An Introduction By Horace White
In Two Volumes, Vol. I
1888
TO
THE MEN AND WOMEN OF AMERICA
WHO HAVE GROWN UP SINCE HIS TRAGIC DEATH, AND WHO HAVE YET TO LEARN
THE STORY OF HIS LIFE, THIS RECORD OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN IS FAITHFULLY
INSCRIBED
[Illustration: frontispiece]
From a photograph by Alexander Hesler, Chicago, 1868
ORIGINAL PREFACE TO HERNDON'S LINCOLN.
A quarter of a century has well-nigh rolled by since the tragic death of
Abraham Lincoln. The prejudice and bitterness with which he was assailed
have disappeared from the minds of men, and the world is now beginning
to view him as a great historical character. Those who knew and walked
with him are gradually passing away, and ere long the last man who ever
heard his voice or grasped his hand will have gone from earth. With
a view to throwing a light on some attributes of Lincoln's character
heretofore obscure, and thus contributing to the great fund of history
which goes down to posterity, these volumes are given to the world.
If Mr. Lincoln is destined to fill that exalted station in history or
attain that high rank in the estimation of the coming generations which
has been predicted of him, it is alike just to his memory and the proper
legacy of mankind that the whole truth concerning him should be known.
If the story of his life is truthfully and courageously told-nothing
colored or suppressed; nothing false either written or suggested-the
reader will see and feel the presence of the living man. He will, in
fact, live with him and be moved to think and act with him. If, on the
other hand, the story is colored or the facts in any degree suppressed,
the reader will be not only misled, but imposed upon as well. At last
the truth will come, and no man need hope to evade it.
"There is but one true history in the world," said one of Lincoln's
closest friends to whom I confided the project of writing a history of
his life several years ago, "and that is the Bible. It is often said
of the old characters portrayed there that they were bad men. They are
contrasted with other characters in history, and much to the detriment
of the old worthies. The reason is, that the Biblical historian told
the whole truth-the inner life. The heart and secret acts are brought
to light and faithfully photographed. In other histories virtues are
perpetuated and vices concealed. If the life of King David had been
written by an ordinary historian the affair of Uriah would at most have
been a quashed indictment with a denial of all the substantial facts.
You should not forget there is a skeleton in every house. The finest
character dug out thoroughly, photographed honestly, and judged by that
standard of morality or excellence which we exact for other men is never
perfect. Some men are cold, some lewd, some dishonest, some cruel, and
many a combination of all. The trail of the serpent is over them all!
Excellence consists, not in the absence of these attributes, but in the
degree in which they are redeemed by the virtues and graces of life.
Lincoln's character will, I am certain, bear close scrutiny. I am not
afraid of you in this direction. Don't let anything deter you from
digging to the bottom; yet don't forget that if Lincoln had some faults,
Washington had more--few men have less. In drawing the portrait tell the
world what the skeleton was with Lincoln. What gave him that peculiar
melancholy? What cancer had he inside?"
Some persons will doubtless object to the narration of certain facts
which appear here for the first time, and which they contend should have
been consigned to the tomb. Their pretense is that no good can come from
such ghastly exposures. To such over-sensitive souls, if any such exist,
my answer is that these facts are indispensable to a full knowledge of
Mr. Lincoln in all the walks of life. In order properly to comprehend
him and the stirring, bloody times in which he lived, and in which he
played such an important part, we must have all the facts--we must be
prepared to take him as he was.
In determining Lincoln's title to greatness we must not only keep in
mind the times in which he lived, but we must, to a certain extent,
measure him with other men. Many of our great men and our statesmen, it
is true, have been self-made, rising gradually through struggles to the
topmost round of the ladder; but Lincoln rose from a lower depth than
any of them. His origin was in that unknown and sunless bog in which
history never made a foot-print. I should be remiss in my duty if I did
not throw the light on this part of the picture, so that the world
may realize what marvellous contrast one phase of his life presents to
another.
The purpose of these volumes is to narrate facts, avoiding as much as
possible any expression of opinion, and leaving the reader to form his
own conclusions. Use has been made of the views and recollections of
other persons, but only those known to be truthful and trustworthy. A
thread of the narrative of Lincoln's life runs through the work, but
an especial feature is an analysis of the man and a portrayal of his
attributes and characteristics. The attempt to delineate his qualities,
his nature and its manifestations, may occasion frequent repetitions of
fact, but if truthfully done this can only augment the store of matter
from which posterity is to learn what manner of man he was.
The object of this work is to deal with Mr. Lincoln individually and
domestically; as lawyer, as citizen, as statesman. Especial attention is
given to the history of his youth and early manhood; and while dwelling
on this portion of his life the liberty is taken to insert many
things which would be omitted or suppressed in other places, where the
cast-iron rules that govern magazine-writing are allowed to prevail.
Thus much is stated in advance, so that no one need be disappointed in
the scope and extent of the work. The endeavor is to keep Lincoln
in sight all the time; to cling close to his side all the way
through--leaving to others the more comprehensive task of writing a
history of his times. I have no theory of his life to establish or
destroy. Mr. Lincoln was my warm, devoted friend.
I always loved him, and I revere his name to this day. My purpose to
tell the truth about him need occasion no apprehension; for I know that
"God's naked truth," as Carlyle puts it, can never injure the fame
of Abraham Lincoln. It will stand that or any other test, and at last
untarnished will reach the loftiest niche in American history.
My long personal association with Mr. Lincoln gave me special facilities
in the direction of obtaining materials for these volumes. Such were
our relations during all that portion of his life when he was rising to
distinction, that I had only to exercise a moderate vigilance in order
to gather and preserve the real data of his personal career. Being
strongly drawn to the man, and believing in his destiny, I was not
unobservant or careless in this respect. It thus happened that I
became the personal depositary of the larger part of the most valuable
_Lincolniana_ in existence. Out of this store the major portion of the
materials of the following volumes has been drawn. I take this, my
first general opportunity, to return thanks to the scores of friends in
Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, and elsewhere for the information they have
so generously furnished and the favors they have so kindly extended me.
Their names are too numerous for separate mention, but the recompense of
each one will be the consciousness of having contributed a share towards
a true history of the "first American."
Over twenty years ago I began this book; but an active life at the bar
has caused me to postpone the work of composition, until, now, being
somewhat advanced in years, I find myself unable to carry out the
undertaking. Within the past three years I have been assisted in the
preparation of the book by Mr. Jesse W. Weik, of Greencastle, Ind.,
whose industry, patience, and literary zeal have not only lessened my
labors, but have secured for him the approbation of Lincoln's friends
and admirers. Mr. Weik has by his personal investigation greatly
enlarged our common treasure of facts and information. He has for
several years been indefatigable in exploring the course of Lincoln's
life. In no particular has he been satisfied with anything taken at
second hand. He has visited--as I also did in 1865--Lincoln's birthplace
in Kentucky, his early homes in Indiana and Illinois, and together, so
to speak, he and I have followed our hero continuously and attentively
till he left Springfield in 1861 to be inaugurated President. We have
retained the original MSS. in all cases, and they have never been out of
our hands. In relating facts therefore, we refer to them in most cases,
rather than to the statements of other biographers.
This brief preliminary statement is made so that posterity, in so far
as posterity may be interested in the subject, may know that the
vital matter of this narrative has been deduced directly from the
consciousness, reminiscences, and collected data of
William H. Herndon.
Springfield, Ill.,
November 1, 1888.
INTRODUCTION.
I was called upon during the lifetime of Mr. Herndon to write for the
second edition of this work a chapter on the Lincoln-Douglas campaign
of 1858. After this had been done and the book had been revised for the
press, I was requested by the publishers to add something in the nature
of a character sketch of Mr. Lincoln as I knew him before his fame had
spread much beyond the confines of Illinois, and to tell what were those
qualities that made him so attractive then. Of course, they were the
same qualities which made him attractive afterward on a wider scale. The
popular judgment of him is, in the main, correct and unshakable. I say
in the main, because there is in this judgment a tendency to apotheosis
which, while pardonable, is not historical, and will not last.
At the time when he was preparing himself unconsciously to be the
nation's leader in a great crisis the only means of gaining public
attention was by public speech. The press did not exist for him, or for
the people among whom he lived. The ambitious young men of the day
must make their mark by oratory, or not at all. There was no division
of labor between the speaker and the editor. If a man was to gain any
popularity he must gain it by talking into the faces of the people. He
must have a ready tongue, and must be prepared to meet all comers and
to accept all challenges. Stump-speaking, wrestling, story-telling, and
horse-racing were the only amusements of the people. In the first three
of these Mr. Lincoln excelled. He grew up in this atmosphere, as did all
his rivals. It was a school to develop all the debating powers that the
community possessed, and to bring them to a high degree of perfection.
Polish was not necessary to success, but plainness of diction was. The
successful speaker was he who could make himself best understood by the
common people, and in turn could best understand them.
Among the earliest accounts that we get of Mr. Lincoln we find him
talking to other boys from some kind of a platform. He had a natural
gift, and he exercised it as opportunity came to him. When he arrived
at man's estate these opportunities came as often as could be desired.
Other young men gifted in the same way were growing up around him.
Douglas, Baker, Trumbull, Hardin, Browning, Yates, Archibald Williams,
Josiah Lamborn, and Lisle Smith were among them. All these had the same
kind of training for public preferment that Lincoln had; some of them
had more book learning, but not much more. We have his own word for it
that he was as ambitious of such preferment as Douglas was; and this was
putting it in the superlative degree.
The popular conception of Mr. Lincoln as one not seeking public honors,
but not avoiding public duties, is a _post bellum_ growth, very wide
of the mark. He was entirely human in this regard, but his desire for
political preferment was hedged about by a sense of obligation to the
truth which nothing could shake. This fidelity to truth was ingrained
and unchangeable. In all the speeches I ever heard him make--and they
were many--he never even insinuated an untruth, nor did he ever fail
when stating his opponent's positions to state them fully and fairly.
He often stated his opponent's position better than his opponent did or
could. To say what was false, or even to leave his hearers under a wrong
impression, was impossible to him. Within this high inclosure he was as
ambitious of earthly honors as any man of his time. Furthermore, he
was an adept at log-rolling or any political game that did not involve
falsity. I was Secretary of the Republican State Committee of Illinois
during some years when he was in active campaign work. He was often
present at meetings of the committee, although not a member, and took
part in the committee work. His judgment was very much deferred to in
such matters. He was one of the shrewdest politicians of the State.
Nobody had had more experience in that way, nobody knew better than he
what was passing in the minds of the people. Nobody knew better how to
turn things to advantage politically, and nobody was readier to take
such advantage, provided it did not involve dishonorable means. He could
not cheat people out of their votes any more than out of their money.
The Abraham Lincoln that some people have pictured to themselves,
sitting in his dingy law office, working over his cases till the voice
of duty roused him, never existed. If this had been his type he never
would have been called at all. It was precisely because he was up and
stirring, and in hot, incessant competition with his fellows for earthly
honors, that the public eye became fixed upon him and the public ear
attuned to his words. Fortunate was it for all of us that he was no
shrinking patriot, that he was moved as other men are moved, so that his
fellows might take heed of him and know him as one of themselves, and as
fit to be their leader in a crisis.
Let me repeat and emphasize what I have here said. Mr. Lincoln never
gave his assent, so far as my knowledge goes, to any plan or project for
getting votes that would not have borne the full light of day. At the
same time, he had no objection to the getting of votes by the pledge of
offices, nor was he too particular what kind of men got the offices.
His preference was always for good men; but he could not resist pressure
where persons were concerned, even though his conscience told him that
he was doing wrong.
We have seen what kind of debating school Mr. Lincoln grew up in. It was
the best possible school for him, and it was an advantage to him that he
had able men for his competitors. Among them was Stephen A. Douglas,
the most versatile, indomitable, and unscrupulous of all of them. He was
Lincoln's rival, as is shown in these pages, for almost everything, from
the hand of Mary Todd to the presidency of the United States. He had
the strength and presence of a lion, with all the cunning of a fox. He
possessed every quality which wins popular favor and high station except
veracity, and I know of nothing in the pages of history more cheering
to pious souls than the eventual triumph of Honest Abe over the Little
Giant.
It was by restless competition and rough-and-tumble with Douglas and
others that Mr. Lincoln acquired that rare power of expression, by mouth
and pen, which drew to himself the attention of the State and afterward
of the nation and the world. He rarely used ornament in his speeches.
Although gifted with the power of humor to an extraordinary degree, he
seldom employed it in his later years except in private circles. Thus it
came about that this growing master of logic, this profound and earnest
debater of the most serious questions of the day, was the most popular
of tavern loungers, and could draw more people together and hold them
longer by mere drollery and _cameraderie_ than any other man I ever
knew. Mr. Lincoln's nature was one of almost child-like sweetness. He
did not "put you at your ease" when you came into his presence. You felt
at your ease without being put there. He never assumed superiority over
anybody in the ordinary intercourse of life.
A good test of this trait in his character was furnished in my own
experience. When I was first thrown into his society I was just out of
college, and was as callow and as self-confident as boys usually are at
that time of life. Mr. Lincoln was at the maturity of his powers. I was
often with him when he had no other companion. In our intercourse he
always paid marked deference to my opinions, and if we differed he would
argue the point with me as earnestly as though I had been the opposing
counsel in a lawsuit. And this he would do with anybody, young or old,
ignorant or learned. I never heard him express contempt for any man's
honest errors, although he would sometimes make a droll remark or tell
a funny story about them. Deference to other people's opinions was
habitual to him. There was no calculation, no politics in it. It was
part and parcel of his sense of equal rights. His democracy was of the
unconscious kind--he did not know anything different from it. Coupled
with this was a habit of unselfishness and kindly temper most engaging
to all who knew him or had any dealings with him. At the same time he
knew when he was imposed upon, and it was unsafe for anybody to presume
upon his good nature or to take him for a flat.
But more than intellectual gifts, more than good-fellowship, did the
sense of justice give him his hold on others. That was a magnetic field
whose influences could not be escaped. He carried it as unconsciously
as he carried his hair. The Athenians would never have ostracized
him--indeed, they would never have called him the Just. They would have
taken him as they took the bees on Hymettus--as one naturally searching
after sweet things.
To say that Mr. Lincoln was a man who had the courage of his convictions
would be rather an under-statement. This was part and parcel of his
sense of justice. He wore it as he wore his clothes, except that it
fitted him much better than his garments usually did. At the time I
first knew him it was irksome to very many of his friends to be told
that there ought to be an efficient fugitive slave law. But it was his
conviction as a lawyer that there ought to be one, and he never failed
to say so when interrogated, or when occasion required that that subject
should be touched upon. And it is a fact that abolitionists like Lovejoy
and Codding would take this from Lincoln without murmuring, when they
would not take it from anybody else. He never would echo the popular
cry, "No more slave States!" Whenever this subject was discussed he
would say that if a Territory having the requisite population and
belonging to us should apply for admission to the Union without fraud or
constraint, yet with slavery, he could not see any other disposition to
be made of her than to admit her. And when he had said this, even to an
audience of radical antislavery men, there would be no protestations.
Those who were not convinced would observe a respectful silence.
Mr. Lincoln's facial expression when in repose and when animated
presented most remarkable contrasts. I have before me a photograph of
him taken at Pittsfield, Illinois, during the campaign of 1858. It looks
as I have seen him a hundred times, his lantern jaws and large mouth
and solid nose firmly set, his sunken eyes looking at nothing yet not
unexpressive, his wrinkled and retreating forehead cut off by a mass
of tousled hair, with a shade of melancholy drawn like a veil over
his whole face. Nothing more unlike this can be imagined than the same
Lincoln when taking part in a conversation, or addressing an audience,
or telling a story. The dull, listless features dropped like a mask. The
melancholy shadow disappeared in a twinkling. The eye began to sparkle,
the mouth to smile, the whole countenance was wreathed with animation,
so that a stranger would have said: "Why, this man, so angular and
somber a moment ago, is really handsome."
What more can be said of the qualities that first made Mr. Lincoln
attractive to his contemporaries? These were debating power, honesty of
purpose, a child-like temper, purity of life, and courage of conviction.
All these traits will be seen in the following pages, rising, unfolding,
expanding in a regular, orderly, human way as the young Lincoln grew to
mature years.
What Mr. Lincoln was after he became President can be best understood
by knowing what he was before. The world owes more to William H. Herndon
for this particular knowledge than to all other persons taken together.
It is no exaggeration to say that his death, which took place at his
farm near Springfield, Illinois, March 18, 1891, removed from earth the
person who, of all others, had most thoroughly searched the sources of
Mr. Lincoln's biography and had most attentively, intelligently, and
also lovingly studied his character. He was generous in imparting his
information to others. Almost every life of Lincoln published since the
tragedy at Ford's Theatre has been enriched by his labors. He was nine
years the junior of Mr. Lincoln. Their partnership began in 1843, and
it continued until it was dissolved by the death of the senior member.
Between them there was never an unkind word or thought. When Mr. Lincoln
became President, Mr. Herndon could have had his fortunes materially
advanced under the new Administration by saying a word. He was a poor
man then and always, but he chose to remain in his more humble station
and to earn his bread by his daily labor.
Some six years ago Mr. Herndon conceived the project of writing a series
of magazine articles intended to portray the youth and early manhood of
Lincoln. Being somewhat infirm, he called Mr. Weik to his assistance,
as he has explained in his preface. The magazine articles expanded
insensibly to the present volumes. Lincolniana is increasing and is
destined to increase. It has been enriched within recent years by the
indispensable but too massive work of Nicolay and Hay, by the masterly
essay of Schurz, and by the posthumous lecture of Greeley, which latter,
being in reality if not in terms a hearty, ungrudging confession that
he had underestimated Lincoln in his lifetime, is doubly welcome. As a
portraiture of the man Lincoln--and this is what we look for above all
things in a biography--I venture to think that Mr. Herndon's work will
never be surpassed.
Horace White.
New York, February, 1892.
[Illustration: Herndon 039]
THE LIFE OF LINCOLN.
CHAPTER I.
BEYOND the fact that he was born on the 12th day of February, 1809, in
Hardin county, Kentucky, Mr. Lincoln usually had but little to say of
himself, the lives of his parents, or the history of the family before
their removal to Indiana. If he mentioned the subject at all, it was
with great reluctance and significant reserve. There was something
about his origin he never cared to dwell upon. His nomination for
the Presidency in 1860, however, made the publication of his life a
necessity, and attracted to Springfield an army of campaign biographers
and newspaper men. They met him in his office, stopped him in his walks,
and followed him to his house. Artists came to paint his picture, and
sculptors to make his bust. His autographs were in demand, and people
came long distances to shake him by the hand. This sudden elevation to
national prominence found Mr. Lincoln unprepared in a great measure for
the unaccustomed demonstrations that awaited him. While he was easy of
approach and equally courteous to all, yet, as he said to me one evening
after a long day of hand-shaking, he could not understand why people
should make so much over him.
Among the earliest newspaper men to arrive in Springfield after the
Chicago convention was the late J. L. Scripps of the Chicago _Tribune_,
who proposed to prepare a history of his life. Mr. Lincoln deprecated
the idea of writing even a campaign biography. "Why, Scripps," said he,
"it is a great piece of folly to attempt to make anything out of me or
my early life. It can all be condensed into a single sentence, and that
sentence you will find in Gray's Elegy,
'The short and simple annals of the poor.'
That's my life, and that's all you or anyone else can make out of it."
He did, however, communicate some facts and meagre incidents of his
early days, and, with the matter thus obtained, Mr. Scripps prepared his
book. Soon after the death of Lincoln I received a letter from Scripps,
in which, among other things, he recalled the meeting with Lincoln, and
the view he took of the biography matter.
"Lincoln seemed to be painfully impressed," he wrote, "with the extreme
poverty of his early surroundings, and the utter absence of all romantic
and heroic elements. He communicated some facts to me concerning his
ancestry, which he did not wish to have published then, and which I have
never spoken of or alluded to before."
What the facts referred to by Mr. Scripps were we do not know; for he
died several years ago without, so far as is known revealing them to
anyone.
On the subject of his ancestry and origin I only remember one time when
Mr. Lincoln ever referred to it. It was about 1850, when he and I were
driving in his one-horse buggy to the court in Menard county, Illinois.
The suit we were going to try was one in which we were likely, either
directly or collaterally, to touch upon the subject of hereditary
traits. During the ride he spoke, for the first time in my hearing,
of his mother, dwelling on her characteristics, and mentioning or
enumerating what qualities he inherited from her. He said, among other
things, that she was the daughter of Lucy Hanks and a well-bred but
obscure Virginia farmer or planter; and he argued that from this last
source came his power of analysis, his logic, his mental activity, his
ambition, and all the qualities that distinguished him from the other
members and descendants of the Hanks family.
In only two instances did Mr. Lincoln over his own hand leave any record
of his history or family descent. One of these was the modest bit of
autobiography furnished to Jesse W. Fell, in 1859, in which, after
stating that his parents were born in Virginia of "undistinguished or
second families," he makes the brief mention of his mother, saying that
she came "of a family of the name of Hanks."* The other record was the
register of marriages, births, and deaths which he made in his father's
Bible. The latter now lies before me. That portion of the page which
probably contained the record of the marriage of his parents, Thomas
Lincoln and Nancy Hanks, has been lost; but fortunately the records of
Washington county, Kentucky, and the certificate of the minister who
performed the marriage ceremony--the Rev. Jesse Head--fix the fact and
date of the latter on the 12th day of June, 1806.
* If anyone will take the pains to read the Fell
autobiography they will be struck with Lincoln's meagre
reference to his mother. He even fails to give her maiden or
Christian name, and devotes but three lines to her family. A
history of the Lincolns occupies almost an entire page.
On the 10th day of February in the following year a daughter Sarah* was
born, and two years later, on the 12th of February, the subject of these
memoirs came into the world. After him came the last child, a boy--named
Thomas after his father--who lived but a few days. No mention of his
existence is found in the Bible record.
* Most biographers of Lincoln, in speaking of Mr. Lincoln's
sister, call her Nancy, some--notably Nicolay and Hay--
insisting that she was known by that name among her family
and friends. In this they are in error. I have interviewed
the different members of the Hanks and Lincoln families who
survived the President, and her name was invariably given as
Sarah. The mistake, I think, arises from the fact that, in
the Bible record referred to, all that portion relating to
the birth of "Sarah, daughter of Thomas and Nancy Lincoln,"
down to the word Nancy has been torn away, and the latter
name has therefore been taken erroneously for that of the
daughter. Reading the entry of Abraham's birth below
satisfies one that it must refer to the mother.
Abraham Lincoln, the grandfather of the President, emigrated to
Jefferson county, Kentucky, from Virginia, about 1780, and from that
time forward the former State became an important one in the history
of the family, for in it was destined to be born its most illustrious
member. About five years before this, a handful of Virginians had
started across the mountains for Kentucky, and in the company, besides
their historian, William Calk,--whose diary recently came to light,--was
one Abraham Hanks. They were evidently a crowd of jolly young men
bent on adventure and fun, but their sport was attended with frequent
disasters. Their journey began at "Mr. Priges' tavern on the Rapidan."
When only a few days out "Hanks' Dog's leg got broke." Later in the
course of the journey, Hanks and another companion became separated from
the rest of the party and were lost in the mountains for two days; in
crossing a stream "Abraham's saddle turned over and his load all fell in
Indian creek"; finally they meet their brethren from whom they have
been separated and then pursue their way without further interruption.
Returning emigrants whom they meet, according to the journal of Calk,
tell such "news of the indians" that certain members of the company
are "afrade to go aney further." The following day more or less
demoralization takes place among the members of this pioneer party when
the announcement is made, as their chronicler so faithfully records it,
that "Philip Drake Bakes bread without washing his hands." This was an
unpardonable sin, and at it they revolted. A day later the record shows
that "Abram turns Back." Beyond this we shall never know what became
of Abraham Hanks, for no further mention of him is made in this or any
other history. He may have returned to Virginia and become, for aught
we know, one of the President's ancestors on the maternal side of the
house; but if so his illustrious descendant was never able to establish
the fact or trace his lineage satisfactorily beyond the first generation
which preceded him. He never mentioned who his maternal grandfather was,
if indeed he knew.
His paternal grandfather, Abraham Lincoln,* the pioneer from Virginia,
met his death within two years after his settlement in Kentucky at the
hands of the Indians; "not in battle," as his distinguished grandson
tells us, "but by stealth, when he was laboring to open a farm in the
forest." The story of his death in sight of his youngest son Thomas,
then only six years old, is by no means a new one to the world. In
fact I have often heard the President describe the tragedy as he had
inherited the story from his father. The dead pioneer had three sons,
Mordecai, Josiah, and Thomas, in the order named. When the father fell,
Mordecai, having hastily sent Josiah to the neighboring fort after
assistance, ran into the cabin, and pointing his rifle through a
crack between the logs, prepared for defense. Presently an Indian came
stealing up to the dead father's body. Beside the latter sat the little
boy Thomas. Mordecai took deliberate aim at a silver crescent which
hung suspended from the Indian's breast, and brought him to the ground.
Josiah returned from the fort with the desired relief, and the savages
were easily dispersed, leaving behind one dead and one wounded.
* "They [the Lincolns] were also called Linkhorns. The old
settlers had a way of pronouncing names not as they were
spelled, but rather, it seemed, as they pleased. Thus they
called Medcalf 'Medcap,' and Kaster they pronounced
'Custard.'"--MS. letter, Charles Friend, March 19,1866.
The tragic death of his father filled Mordecai with an intense hatred of
the Indians--a feeling from which he never recovered. It was ever
with him like an avenging spirit. From Jefferson county he removed to
Grayson, where he spent the remainder of his days. A correspondent* from
there wrote me in 1865: "Old Mordecai was easily stirred up by the sight
of an Indian. One time, hearing of a few Indians passing through the
county, he mounted his horse, and taking his rifle on his shoulder,
followed on after them and was gone two days. When he returned he said
he left one lying in a sink hole. The Indians, he said, had killed his
father, and he was determined before he died to have satisfaction."
The youngest boy, Thomas, retained a vivid recollection of his father's
death, which, together with other reminiscences of his boyhood, he was
fond of relating later in life to his children to relieve the tedium of
long winter evenings. Mordecai and Josiah,** both remaining in Kentucky,
became the heads of good-sized families, and although never known or
heard of outside the limits of the neighborhoods in which they lived,
were intelligent, well-to-do men.
* W. T. Claggett, unpublished MS.
** "I knew Mordecai and Josiah Lincoln intimately. They were
excellent men, plain, moderately educated, candid in their
manners and intercourse, and looked upon as honorable as any
men I have ever heard of. Mordecai was the oldest son, and
his father having been killed by the Indians before the law
of primogeniture was repealed, he inherited a very competent
estate. The others were poor. Mordecai was celebrated for
his bravery, and had been in the early campaigns of the
West"-Henry Pirtle, letter, June 17,1865, MS.
In Thomas, roving and shiftless, to whom was "reserved the honor of an
illustrious paternity," are we alone interested. He was, we are told,
five feet ten inches high, weighed one hundred and ninety-five pounds,
had a well-rounded face, dark hazel eyes, coarse black hair, and was
slightly stoop-shouldered. His build was so compact that Dennis Hanks
used to say he could not find the point of separation between his ribs.
He was proverbially slow of movement, mentally and physically; was
careless, inert, and dull; was sinewy, and gifted with great strength;
was inoffensively quiet and peaceable, but when roused to resistance a
dangerous antagonist. He had a liking for jokes and stories, which was
one of the few traits he transmitted to his illustrious son; was fond
of the chase, and had no marked aversion for the bottle, though in the
latter case he indulged no more freely than the average Kentuckian of
his day. At the time of his marriage to Nancy Hanks he could neither
read nor write; but his wife, who was gifted with more education, and
was otherwise his mental superior, taught him, it is said, to write his
name and to read--at least, he was able in later years to spell his way
slowly through the Bible. In his religious belief he first affiliated
with the Free-Will Baptists. After his removal to Indiana he changed his
adherence to the Presbyterians--or Predestinarians, as they were
then called--and later united with the Christian--vulgarly called
Campbellite Church, in which latter faith he is supposed to have died.
He was a carpenter by trade, and essayed farming too; but in this, as in
almost every other undertaking, he was singularly unsuccessful. He was
placed in possession of several tracts of land at different times in his
life, but was never able to pay for a single one of them. The farm on
which he died was one his son purchased, providing a life estate therein
for him and his wife. He never fell in with the routine of labor; was
what some people would call unfortunate or unlucky in all his business
ventures--if in reality he ever made one--and died near the village of
Farmington in Coles county, Illinois, on the 17th day of January, 1851.
His son, on account of sickness in his own family, was unable to be
present at his father's bedside, or witness his death. To those who
notified him of his probable demise he wrote: "I sincerely hope that
father may yet recover his health; but at all events tell him to
remember to call upon and confide in our great and good and merciful
Maker, who will not turn away from him in any extremity. He notes the
fall of a sparrow, and numbers the hairs of our heads; and He will not
forget the dying man who puts his trust in him. Say to him that if we
could meet now it is doubtful whether it would not be more painful than
pleasant; but that if it be his lot to go now he will soon have a joyous
meeting with the many loved ones gone before, and where the rest of us,
through the help of God, hope ere long to join them." *
* MS. letter to John Johnston, Jan. 12, 1851.
Nancy Hanks, the mother of the President, at a very early age was taken
from her mother Lucy--afterwards married to Henry Sparrow--and sent to
live with her aunt and uncle, Thomas and Betsy Sparrow. Under this same
roof the irrepressible and cheerful waif, Dennis Hanks*--whose name will
be frequently seen in these pages--also found a shelter. At the time of
her marriage to Thomas Lincoln, Nancy was in her twenty-third year. She
was above the ordinary height in stature, weighed about 130 pounds,
was slenderly built, and had much the appearance of one inclined to
consumption. Her skin was dark; hair dark brown; eyes gray and small;
forehead prominent; face sharp and angular, with a marked expression of
melancholy which fixed itself in the memory of everyone who ever saw
or knew her. Though her life was seemingly beclouded by a spirit of
sadness, she was in disposition amiable and generally cheerful. Mr.
Lincoln himself said to me in 1851, on receiving the news of his
father's death, that whatever might be said of his parents, and however
unpromising the early surroundings of his mother may have been, she was
highly intellectual by nature, had a strong memory, acute judgment, and
was cool and heroic. From a mental standpoint she no doubt rose above
her surroundings, and had she lived, the stimulus of her nature would
have accelerated her son's success, and she would have been a much more
ambitious prompter than his father ever was.
* Dennis Hanks, still living at the age of ninety years in
Illinois, was the son of another Nancy Hanks--the aunt of
the President's mother. He furnished Mr. Weik and me with
much interesting information, especially facts and incidents
relating to early life in Indiana.
As a family the Hankses were peculiar to the civilization of early
Kentucky. Illiterate and superstitious, they corresponded to that
nomadic class still to be met with throughout the South, and known as
"poor whites." They are happily and vividly depicted in the description
of a camp-meeting held at Elizabethtown, Kentucky, in 1806, which was
furnished me in August, 1865, by an eye-witness.*
* J. B. Helm, MS.
"The Hanks girls," narrates the latter, "were great at camp-meetings. I
remember one in 1806. I will give you a scene, and if you will then
read the books written on the subject you may find some apology for the
superstition that was said to be in Abe Lincoln's character. It was at
a camp-meeting, as before said, when a general shout was about to
commence. Preparations were being made; a young lady invited me to stand
on a bench by her side where we could see all over the altar. To the
right a strong, athletic young man, about twenty-five years old, was
being put in trim for the occasion, which was done by divesting him of
all apparel except shirt and pants. On the left a young lady was being
put in trim in much the same manner, so that her clothes would not be
in the way, and so that, when her combs flew out, her hair would go into
graceful braids. She, too, was young--not more than twenty perhaps. The
performance commenced about the same time by the young man on the right
and the young lady on the left. Slowly and gracefully they worked
their way towards the centre, singing, shouting, hugging and kissing,
generally their own sex, until at last nearer and nearer they came. The
centre of the altar was reached, and the two closed, with their arms
around each other, the man singing and shouting at the top of his voice,
"'I have my Jesus in my arms
Sweet as honey, strong as bacon ham.'
"Just at this moment the young lady holding to my arm whispered, 'They
are to be married next week; her name is Hanks.' There were very few who
did not believe this true religion, inspired by the Holy Spirit, and
the man who could not believe it, did well to keep it to himself. The
Hankses were the finest singers and shouters in our country."
Here my informant stops, and on account of his death several years ago
I failed to learn whether the young lady shouter who figured in the
foregoing scene was the President's mother or not. The fact that Nancy
Hanks did marry that year gives color to the belief that it was she. As
to the probability of the young man being Thomas Lincoln it is difficult
to say; such a performance as the one described must have required a
little more emotion and enthusiasm than the tardy and inert carpenter
was in the habit of manifesting.