present happiness. I am much pleased with that acknowledgment. But a
thousand times more am I pleased, to know that you enjoy a degree of
happiness worthy of an acknowledgment. The truth is, I am not sure that
there was any went with me in the part I took in your difficulty: I was
drawn to it as by fate. If I would, I could not have done less than
I did. I always was superstitious: I believe God made me one of the
instruments of bringing your Fanny and you together, which union I have
no doubt he had fore-ordained. Whatever he designs, he will do for me
yet. "Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord" is my text just
now. If, as you say, you have told Fanny all, I should have no objection
to her seeing this letter, but for its reference to our friend here:
let her seeing it depend upon whether she has ever known any thing of my
affairs; and, if she has not, do not let her.
I do not think I can come to Kentucky this season. I am so poor, and
make so little headway in the world, that I drop back in a month of
idleness as much as I gain in a year's sowing. I should like to visit
you again. I should like to see that "sis" of yours that was absent when
I was there, though I suppose she would run away again, if she were to
hear I was coming.
My respects and esteem to all your friends there, and, by your
permission, my love to your Fanny. Ever yours, Lincoln.
Springfield, Oct. 5, 1842.
Dear Speed,--You have heard of my duel with Shields, and I have now
to inform you that the duelling business still rages in this city. Day
before yesterday Shields challenged Butler, who accepted, and proposed
fighting next morning at sunrising in Bob Allen's meadow, one hundred
yards' distance, with rifles. To this Whitesides, Shields's second, said
"no," because of the law. Thus ended duel No. 2. Yesterday Whiteside
chose to consider himself insulted by Dr. Merryman, so sent him a kind
of _quasi_-challenge, inviting him to meet him at the Planter's House in
St. Louis, on the next Friday, to settle their difficulty. Merryman made
me his friend, and sent W. a note, inquiring to know if he meant his
note as a challenge, and, if so, that he would, according to the law
in such case made and provided, prescribe the terms of the meeting. W.
returned for answer, that, if M. would meet him at the Planter's House
as desired, he would challenge him. M. replied in a note, that he denied
W.'s right to dictate time and place, but that he (M.) would waive the
question of time, and meet him at Louisiana, Mo. Upon my presenting this
note to W., and stating verbally its contents, he declined receiving it,
saying he had business in St. Louis, and it was as near as Louisiana.
Merryman then directed me to notify Whiteside that he should publish the
correspondence between them, with such comments as he thought fit. This
I did. Thus it stood at bedtime last night. This morning Whiteside, by
his friend Shields, is praying for a new trial, on the ground that he
was mistaken in Merryman's proposition to meet him at Louisiana, Mo.,
thinking it was the State of Louisiana. This Merryman hoots at, and
is preparing his publication; while the town is in a ferment, and a
street-fight somewhat anticipated.
But I began this letter, not for what I have been writing, but to
say something on that subject which you know to be of such infinite
solicitude to me. The immense sufferings you endured from the first days
of September till the middle of February you never tried to conceal from
me, and I well understood. You have now been the husband of a lovely
woman nearly eight months. That you are happier now than the day you
married her, I well know; for without you could not be living. But I
have your word for it, too, and the returning elasticity of spirits
which is manifested in your letters. But I want to ask a close question,
"Are you now in _feeling_, as well as _judgment_, glad you are married
as you are?" From anybody but me this would be an impudent question, not
to be tolerated; but I know you will pardon it in me. Please answer it
quickly, as I am impatient to know.
I have sent my love to your Fanny so often, I fear she is getting tired
of it. However, I venture to tender it again,
Yours forever,
Lincoln.
In the last of these letters, Mr. Lincoln refers to his "duel with
Shields." That was another of the disagreeable consequences which flowed
from his fatal entanglement with Mary. Not content with managing a
timid, although half-frantic and refractory, lover, her restless spirit
led her into new fields of adventure. Her pen was too keen to be idle in
the political controversies of the time. As a satirical writer, she
had no rival of either sex at Springfield, and few, we venture to say,
anywhere else. But that is a dangerous talent: the temptations to use it
unfairly are numerous and strong; it inflicts so much pain, and almost
necessarily so much injustice, upon those against whom it is directed,
that its possessor rarely, if ever, escapes from a controversy without
suffering from the desperation it provokes. Mary Todd was not disposed
to let her genius rust for want of use; and, finding no other victim
handy, she turned her attention to James Shields, "Auditor." She had a
friend, one Miss Jayne, afterwards Mrs. Trumbull, who helped to keep
her literary secrets, and assisted as much as she could in worrying the
choleric Irishman. Mr. Francis, the editor, knew very well that Shields
was "a fighting-man;" but the "pieces" sent him by the wicked ladies
were so uncommonly rich in point and humor, that he yielded to a
natural inclination, and printed them, one and all. Below we give a few
specimens:--
LETTER FROM THE LOST TOWNSHIPS.
Lost Townships, Aug. 27, 1842.
Dear Mr. Printer,--I see you printed that long letter I sent you a spell
ago: I'm quite encouraged by it, and can't keep from writing again. I
think the printing of my letters will be a good thing all round,--it
will give me the benefit of being known by the world, and give the world
the advantage of knowing what's going on in the Lost Townships, and
give your paper respectability besides. So here comes another. Yesterday
afternoon I hurried through cleaning up the dinner-dishes, and stepped
over to Neighbor S----, to see if his wife Peggy was as well as mought be
expected, and hear what they called the baby. Well, when I got there,
and just turned round the corner of his log-cabin, there he was setting
on the doorstep reading a newspaper.
"How are you, Jeff?" says I. He sorter started when he heard me, for he
hadn't seen me before.
"Why," says he, "I'm mad as the devil, Aunt'Becca!"
"What about?" says I: "ain't its hair the right color? None of that
nonsense, Jeff: there ain't an honester woman in the Lost Townships
than"--
"Than who?" says he: "what the mischief are you about?"
I began to see I was running the wrong trail, and so says I, "Oh!
nothing: I guess I was mistaken a little, that's all. But what is it
you're mad about?" "Why," says he, "I've been tugging ever since harvest
getting out wheat and hauling it to the river, to raise State-Bank paper
enough to pay my tax this year, and a little school-debt I owe; and
now, just as I've got it, here I open this infernal 'Extra Register,'
expecting to find it full of 'Glorious Democratic Victories' and
'High-Comb'd Cocks,' when, lo and behold! I find a set of fellows
calling themselves officers of State have forbidden the tax-collectors
and school-commissioners to receive State paper at all; and so here it
is, dead on my hands. I don't now believe all the plunder I've got will
fetch ready cash enough to pay my taxes and that school-debt."
I was a good deal thunderstruck myself; for that was the first I had
heard of the proclamation, and my old man was pretty much in the same
fix with Jeff. We both stood a moment staring at one another, without
knowing what to say. At last says I, "Mr. S------, let me look at that
paper." He handed it to me, when I read the proclamation over.
"There, now," says he, "did you ever see such a piece of impudence
and imposition as that?" I saw Jeff was in a good tune for saying some
ill-natured things, and so I tho't I would just argue a little on the
contrary side, and make him rant a spell if I could.
"Why," says I, looking as dignified and thoughtful as I could, "it seems
pretty tough, to be sure, to have to raise silver where there's none to
be raised; but then, you see, 'there will be danger of loss' if it ain't
done."
"Loss, damnation 1" says he. "I defy Daniel Webster, I defy King
Solomon, I defy the world,--I defy--I defy--yes, I defy even you,
Aunt'Becca, to show how the people can lose any thing by paying their
taxes in State paper."
"Well," says I, "you see what the officers of State say about it, and
they are a desarnin' set of men. But," says I, "I guess you're mistaken
about what the proclamation says. It don't say the people will lose any
thing by the paper money being taken for taxes. It only says 'there will
be danger of loss;' and though it is tolerable plain that the people
can't lose by paying their taxes in something they can get easier than
silver, instead of having to pay silver; and though it is just as plain
that the State can't lose by taking State-Bank paper, however low it
may be, while she owes the bank more than the whole revenue, and can pay
that paper over on her debt, dollar for dollar,--still there is danger
of loss to the 'officers of State;' and you know, Jeff, we can't get
along without officers of State."
"Damn officers of State!" says he: "that's what you Whigs are always
hurrahing for."
"Now, don't swear so, Jeff," says I: "you know I belong to the meetin',
and swearin' hurts my feelins'."
"Beg pardon, Aunt'Becca," says he; "but I do say it's enough to make Dr.
Goddard swear, to have tax to pay in silver, for nothing only that Ford
may get his two thousand a year, and Shields his twenty-four hundred a
year, and Carpenter his sixteen hundred a year, and all without 'danger
of loss' by taking it in State paper. Yes, yes: it's plain enough now
what these officers of State mean by 'danger of loss.' Wash, I s'pose,
actually lost fifteen hundred dollars out of the three thousand that two
of these 'officers of State' let him steal from the treasury, by
being compelled to take it in State paper. Wonder if we don't have a
proclamation before long commanding us to make up this loss to Wash in
silver."
And so he went on till his breath run out, and he had to stop. I
couldn't think of any thing to say just then; and so I begun to look
over the paper again. "Ay! here's another proclamation, or something
like it."
"Another!" says Jeff; "and whose egg is it, pray?"
I looked to the bottom of it, and read aloud, "Your obedient servant,
Jas. Shields, Auditor."
"Aha!" says Jeff, "one of them same three fellows again. Well, read it,
and let's hear what of it."
I read on till I came to where it says, "The object of this measure is
to suspend the collection of the revenue for the current year."
"Now stop, now stop!" says he: "that's a lie a'ready, and I don't want
to hear of it."
"Oh! maybe not," says I.
"I say it--is--a--lie. Suspend the collection, indeed! Will the
collectors, that have taken their oaths to make the collection, dare
to suspend it? Is there any thing in the law requiring them to perjure
themselves at the bidding of James Shields? Will the greedy gullet of
the penitentiary be satisfied with swallowing him instead of all them,
if they should venture to obey him? And would he not discover some
'danger of loss,' and be off, about the time it came to taking their
places?
"And suppose the people attempt to suspend, by refusing to pay, what
then? The collectors would just jerk up their horses and cows, and the
like, and sell them to the highest bidder for silver in hand, without
valuation or redemption. Why, Shields didn't believe that story himself:
it was never meant for the truth. If it was true, why was it not writ
till five days after the proclamation? Why didn't Carlin and Carpenter
sign it as well as Shields? Answer me that, Aunt'Becca. I say it's a
lie, and not a well-told one at that. It grins out like a copper dollar.
Shields is a fool as well as a liar. With him truth is out of the
question; and, as for getting a good bright passable lie out of him, you
might as well try to strike fire from a cake of tallow. I stick to it,
it's all an infernal Whig lie!"
"A Whig lie! Highty tighty!"
"Yes, a Whig lie; and it's just like every thing the cursed British
Whigs do. First they'll do some divilment, and then they'll tell a lie
to hide it. And they don't care how plain a lie it is: they think they
can cram any sort of a one down the throats of the ignorant Locofocos,
as they call the Democrats."
"Why, Jeff, you're crazy: you don't mean to say Shields is a Whig!"
"_Yes, I do."_
"Why, look here! the proclamation is in your own Democratic paper, as
you call it."
"I know it; and what of that? They only printed it to let us Democrats
see the deviltry the Whigs are at."
"Well, but Shields is the auditor of this Loco--I mean this Democratic
State."
"So he is, and Tyler appointed him to office."
"Tyler appointed him?"
"Yes (if you must chaw it over), Tyler appointed him; or, if it wasn't
him, it was old Granny Harrison, and that's all one. I tell you,
Aunt'Becca, there's no mistake about his being a Whig. Why, his very
looks shows it,--every thing about him shows it: if I was deaf and
blind, I could tell him by the smell. I seed him when I was down in
Springfield last winter. They had a sort of a gatherin' there one night
among the grandees, they called a fair. All the gals about town was
there; and all the handsome widows and married women, finickin' about,
trying to look like gals, tied as tight in the middle, and puffed out
at both ends, like bundles of fodder that hadn't been stacked yet, but
wanted stackin' pretty bad. And then they had tables all round the
house kivered over with [ ] caps, and pincushions, and ten thousand such
little knick-knacks, tryin' to sell'em to the fellows that were bowin'
and scrapin' and kungeerin' about'em. They wouldn't let no Democrats in,
for fear they'd disgust the ladies, or scare the little gals, or dirty
the floor. I looked in at the window, and there was this same fellow
Shields floatin' about on the air, without heft or earthly substance,
just like a lock of cat-fur where cats had been fightin'.
"He was paying his money to this one, and that one, and t'other one, and
sufferin' great loss because it wasn't silver instead of State paper;
and the sweet distress he seemed to be in,--his very features, in the
ecstatic agony of his soul, spoke audibly and distinctly, 'Dear girls,
it is distressing, but I cannot marry you all. Too well I know how
much you suffer; but do, do remember, it is not my fault that I am so
handsome and so interesting.'
"As this last was expressed by a most exquisite contortion of his face,
he seized hold of one of their hands, and squeezed, and held on to it
about a quarter of an hour. 'O my good fellow!' says I to myself, 'if
that was one of our Democratic gals in the Lost Townships, the way
you'd get a brass pin let into you, would be about up to the head.' He
a Democrat! Fiddlesticks! I tell you, Aunt'Becca, he's a Whig, and no
mistake: nobody but a Whig could make such a conceity dunce of himself."
"Well," says I, "maybe he is; but, if he is, I'm mistaken the worst
sort. Maybe so, maybe so; but, if I am, I'll suffer by it; I'll be a
Democrat if it turns out that Shields is a Whig; considerin' you shall
be a Whig if he turns out a Democrat."
"A bargain, by jingoes!" says he; "but how will we find out?"
"Why," says I, "we'll just write, and ax the printer."
"Agreed again!" says he; "and, by thunder! if it does turn out that
Shields is a Democrat, I never will"--
"Jefferson,--Jefferson"--
"What do you want, Peggy?"
"Do get through your everlasting clatter sometime, and bring me a gourd
of water: the child's been crying for a drink this live-long hour."
"Let it die, then: it may as well die for water as to be taxed to death
to fatten officers of State."
Jeff run off to get the water, though, just like he hadn't been sayin'
any thing spiteful; for he's a raal good-hearted fellow, after all, once
you get at the foundation of him.
I walked into the house, and "Why, Peggy," says I, "I declare, we like
to forgot you altogether."
"Oh, yes!" says she, "when a body can't help themselves, everybody
soon forgets'em; but, thank God! by day after to-morrow I shall be well
enough to milk the cows, and pen the calves, and wring the contrary
ones' tails for'em, and no thanks to nobody."
"Good-evening, Peggy," says I; and so I sloped, for I seed she was mad
at me for making Jeff neglect her so long.
And now, Mr. Printer, will you be sure to let us know in your next paper
whether this Shields is a Whig or a Democrat? I don't care about it for
myself, for I know well enough how it is already; but I want to convince
Jeff. It may do some good to let him, and others like him, know who
and what those officers of State are. It may help to send the present
hypocritical set to where they belong, and to fill the places they now
disgrace with men who will do more work for less pay, and take a fewer
airs while they are doing it. It ain't sensible to think that the same
men who get us into trouble will change their course; and yet it's
pretty plain, if some change for the better is not made, it's not long
that either Peggy or I, or any of us, will have a cow left to milk, or a
calf's tail to wring.
Yours, truly,
Rebecca------.
Lost Townships, Sept. 8,1842. Dear Mr. Printer,--I was a-standin' at the
spring yesterday a-washin' out butter, when I seed Jim Snooks a-ridin'
up towards the house for very life like, when, jist as I was a wonderin'
what on airth was the matter with him, he stops suddenly, and ses he,
"Aunt'Becca, here's somethin' for you;" and with that he hands out your
letter. Well, you see I steps out towards him, not thinkin' that I had
both hands full of butter; and seein' I couldn't take the letter, you
know, without greasin' it, I ses, "Jim, jist you open it, and read it
for me." Well, Jim opens it, and reads it; and would you believe it,
Mr. Editor? I was so completely dumfounded, and turned into stone, that
there I stood in the sun, a-workin' the butter, and it a-runnin' on the
ground, while he read the letter, that I never thunk what I was about
till the hull on't run melted on the ground, and was lost. Now, sir,
it's not for the butter, nor the price of the butter, but, the Lord have
massy on us, I wouldn't have sich another fright for a whole firkin of
it. Why, when I found out that it was the man what Jeff seed down to
the fair that had demanded the author of my letters, threatnin' to
take personal satisfaction of the writer, I was so skart that I tho't I
should quill-wheel right where I was.
You say that Mr. S. is offended at being compared to cat's fur, and
is as mad as a March hare (that ain't far), because I told about the
squeezin'. Now, I want you to tell Mr. S, that, rather than fight, I'll
make any apology; and, if he wants personal satisfaction, let him only
come here, and he may squeeze my hand as hard as I squeeze the butter,
and, if that ain't personal satisfaction, I can only say that he is the
fust man that was not satisfied with squeezin' my hand. If this should
not answer, there is one thing more that I would do rather than get a
lickin'. I have all along expected to die a widow; but, as Mr. S.
is rather good-looking than otherwise, I must say I don't care if
we compromise the matter by--really, Mr. Printer, I can't help
blushin'--but I--it must come out--I--but widowed modesty--well, if I
must, I must--wouldn't he--maybe sorter, let the old grudge drap if I
was to consent to be--be--h-i-s w-i-f-e? I know he's a fightin' man, and
would rather fight than eat; but isn't marryin' better than fightin',
though it does sometimes run into it? And I don't think, upon the whole,
that I'd be sich a bad match neither: I'm not over sixty, and am just
four feet three in my bare feet, and not much more round the girth; and
for color, I wouldn't turn my back to nary gal in the Lost Townships.
But, after all, maybe I'm countin' my chickins before they' re hatched,
and dreamin' of matrimonial bliss when the only alternative reserved for
me may be a lickin'. Jeff tells me the way these fire-eaters do is to
give the challenged party choice of weapons, &c., which bein' the case,
I'll tell you in confidence that I never fights with any thing but
broomsticks, or hot water, or a shovelful of coals, or some such thing;
the former of which being somewhat like a shillalah, may not be very
objectionable to him. I will give him choice, however, in one thing, and
that is, whether, when we fight, I shall wear breeches or he petticoats;
for I presume that change is sufficient to place us on an equality.
Yours, &c.
Rebecca------.
P. S.--Jist say to your friend, if he concludes to marry rather than
fight, I shall only inforce 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.
It is by no means a subject of wonder that these publications threw
Mr. James Shields into a state of wrath. A thin-skinned, sensitive,
high-minded, and high-tempered man, tender of his honor, and an Irishman
besides, it would have been strange indeed, if he had not felt
like snuffing blood. But his rage only afforded new delights to his
tormentors; and when it reached its height, "Aunt'Becca" transformed
herself to "Cathleen," and broke out in rhymes like the following, which
Miss Jayne's brother "Bill" kindly consented to "drop" for the amiable
ladies.
[For The Journal.]
Ye Jew's-harps awake! The A------s won:
Rebecca the widow has gained Erin's son;
The pride of the North from Emerald Isle
Has been wooed and won by a woman's smile.
The combat's relinquished, old loves all forgot:
To the widow he's bound. Oh, bright be his lot!
In the smiles of the conquest so lately achieved,
Joyful be his bride, "widowed modesty" relieved.
The footsteps of time tread lightly on flowers,
May the cares of this world ne'er darken his hours!
But the pleasures of life are fickle and coy
As the smiles of a maiden sent off to destroy.
Happy groom! in sadness, far distant from thee,
The Fair girls dream only of past times of glee
Enjoyed in thy presence; whilst the soft blarnied store
Will be fondly remembered as relics of yore,
And hands that in rapture you oft would have prest
In prayer will be clasped that your lot may be blest.
Cathleen.
It was too bad. Mr. Shields could stand it no longer. He sent Gen.
Whiteside to Mr. Francis, to demand the name of the person who wrote the
letters from the "Lost Townships;" and Mr. Francis told him it was _A.
Lincoln_. This information led to a challenge, a sudden scampering off
of parties and friends to Missouri, a meeting, an explanation, and a
peaceful return.
Abraham Lincoln in the field of honor, sword in hand, manoeuvred by a
second learned in the _duello_, would be an attractive spectacle under
any circumstances. But with a celebrated man for an antagonist, and a
lady's humor the occasion, the scene is one of transcendent interest;
and the documents which describe it are well entitled to a place in his
history. The letter of Mr. Shields's second, being first in date, is
first in order.
Springfield, Oct. 3, 1842. To the Editor op "The Sangamon Journal."
Sir,--To prevent misrepresentation of the recent affair between Messrs.
Shields and Lincoln, I think it proper to give a brief narrative of the
facts of the case, as they came within my knowledge; for the truth
of which I hold myself responsible, and request you to give the same
publication. An offensive article in relation to Mr. Shields appeared in
"The Sangamon Journal" of the 2d September last; and, on demanding the
author, Mr. Lincoln was given up by the editor. Mr. Shields, previous to
this demand, made arrangements to go to Quincy on public business; and
before his return Mr. Lincoln had left for Tremont, to attend the court,
with the intention, as we learned, of remaining on the circuit several
weeks. Mr. Shields, on his return, requested me to accompany him to
Tremont; and, on arriving there, we found that Dr. Merryman and Mr.
Butler had passed us in the night, and got there before us. We arrived
in Tremont on the 17th ult.; and Mr. Shields addressed a note to Mr.
Lincoln immediately, informing him that he was given up as the author of
some articles that appeared in "The Sangamon Journal" (one more over the
signature having made its appearance at this time), and requesting
him to _retract_ the offensive allusions contained in said articles in
relation to his private character. Mr. Shields handed this note to me to
deliver to Mr. Lincoln, and directed me, at the same time, not to
enter into any verbal communication, or be the bearer of any verbal
explanation, as such were always liable to misapprehension. This note
was delivered by me to Mr. Lincoln, stating, at the same time, that I
would call at his convenience for an answer. Mr. Lincoln, in the evening
of the same day, handed me a letter addressed to Mr. Shields. In this
he gave or offered no explanation, but stated therein that he could not
submit to answer further, on the ground that Shields's note contained
an assumption of facts and also a menace. Mr. Shields then addressed
him another note, in which he disavowed all intention to menace, and
requested to know whether he (Mr. Lincoln) was the author of either of
the articles which appeared in "The Journal," headed "Lost Townships,"
and signed "Rebecca;" and, if so, he repeated his request of a
retraction of the offensive matter in relation to his private character;
if not, his denial would be held sufficient. This letter was returned to
Mr. Shields unanswered, with a verbal statement "that there could be no
further negotiation between them until the first note was withdrawn."
Mr. Shields thereupon sent a note designating me as his friend, to which
Mr. Lincoln replied by designating Dr. Merryman. These three last notes
passed on Monday morning, the 19th. Dr. Merryman handed me Mr. Lincoln's
last note when by ourselves. I remarked to Dr. Merryman that the matter
was now submitted to us, and that I would propose that he and myself
should pledge our words of honor to each other to try to agree upon
terms of amicable arrangement, and compel our principals to accept of
them. To this he readily assented, and we shook hands upon the pledge.
It was then mutually agreed that we should adjourn to Springfield, and
there procrastinate the matter, for the purpose of effecting the secret
arrangement between him and myself. All this I kept concealed from Mr.
Shields. Our horse had got a little lame in going to Tremont, and
Dr. Merryman invited me to take a seat in his buggy. I accepted the
invitation the more readily, as I thought, that leaving Mr. Shields in
Tremont until his horse would be in better condition to travel would
facilitate the private agreement between Dr. Merryman and myself. I
travelled to Springfield part of the way with him, and part with Mr.
Lincoln; but nothing passed between us on the journey in relation to the
matter in hand. We arrived in Springfield on Monday night. About noon on
Tuesday, to my astonishment, a proposition was made to meet in Missouri,
within three miles of Alton, on the next Thursday! The weapons, cavalry
broadswords of the largest size; the parties to stand on each side of
a barrier, and to be confined to a limited space. As I had not
been consulted at all on the subject, and considering the private
understanding between Dr. Merryman and myself, and it being known that
Mr. Shields was left at Tremont, such a proposition took me by surprise.
However, being determined not to violate the laws of the State, I
declined agreeing upon the terms until we should meet in Missouri.
Immediately after, I called upon Dr. Merryman, and withdrew the pledge
of honor between him and myself in relation to a secret arrangement. I
started after this to meet Mr. Shields, and met him about twenty miles
from Springfield. It was late on Tuesday night when we both reached the
city, and learned that Dr. Merryman had left for Missouri, Mr. Lincoln
having left before the proposition was made, as Dr. Merryman had himself
informed me. The time and place made it necessary to start at once.
We left Springfield at eleven o'clock on Tuesday night, travelled all
night, and arrived in Hillsborough on Wednesday morning, where we
took in Gen. Ewing. From there we went to Alton, where we arrived on
Thursday; and, as the proposition required three friends on each side, I
was joined by Gen. Ewing and Dr. Hope, as the friends of Mr. Shields.
We then crossed to Missouri, where a proposition was made by Gen.
Hardin and Dr. English (who had arrived there in the mean time as mutual
friends) to refer the matter to, I think, four friends for a settlement.
This I believed Mr. Shields would refuse, and declined seeing him; but
Dr. Hope, who conferred with him upon the subject, returned, and stated
that Mr. Shields declined settling the matter through any other than the
friends he had selected to stand by him on that occasion. The friends of
both the parties finally agreed to withdraw the papers (temporarily) to
give the friends of Mr. Lincoln an opportunity to explain. Whereupon the
friends of Mr. Lincoln, to wit, Messrs. Merryman, Bledsoe, and Butler,
made a full and satisfactory explanation in relation to the article
which appeared in "The Sangamon Journal" of the 2d, the only one written
by him. This was all done without the knowledge or consent of Mr.
Shields; and he refused to accede to it until Dr. Hope, Gen. Ewing, and
myself declared the apology sufficient, and that we could not sustain
him in going further. I think it necessary to state further, that no
explanation or apology had been previously offered on the part of Mr.
Lincoln to Mr. Shields, and that none was ever communicated by me to
him, nor was any ever offered to me, unless a paper read to me by Dr.
Merryman after he had handed me the broadsword proposition on Tuesday.
I heard so little of the reading of the paper, that I do not know fully
what it purported to be; and I was the less inclined to inquire, as Mr.
Lincoln was then gone to Missouri, and Mr. Shields not yet arrived from
Tremont. In fact, I could not entertain any offer of the kind, unless
upon my own responsibility; and that I was not disposed to do after what
had already transpired.
I make this statement, as I am about to be absent for some time, and
I think it due to all concerned to give a true version of the matter
before I leave.
Your obedient servant,
John D. Whiteside.
To which Mr. Merryman replied:--
Springfield, Oct. 8, 1842.
Editors of "The Journal."
Gents,--By your paper of Friday, I discover that Gen. Whiteside has
published his version of the late affair between Messrs. Shields and
Lincoln. I now bespeak a hearing of my version of the same affair, which
shall be true and full as to all material facts.
On Friday evening, the 16th of September, I learned that Mr. Shields
and Gen. Whiteside had started in pursuit of Mr. Lincoln, who was at
Tremont, attending court. I knew that Mr. Lincoln was wholly unpractised
both as to the diplomacy and weapons commonly employed in similar
affairs; and I felt it my duty, as a friend, to be with him, and, so far
as in my power, to prevent any advantage being taken of him as to either
his honor or his life. Accordingly, Mr. Butler and myself started,
passed Shields and Whiteside in the night, and arrived at Tremont ahead
of them on Saturday morning. I told Mr. Lincoln what was brewing, and
asked him what course he proposed to himself. He stated that he was
wholly opposed to duelling, and would do any thing to avoid it that
might not degrade him in the estimation of himself and friends; but, if
such degradation or a fight were the only alternative, he would fight.
In the afternoon Shields and Whiteside arrived, and very soon the former
sent to Mr. Lincoln by the latter the following note or letter:--
Tremont, Sept. 17,1842.
A. Lincoln, Esq.--I regret that my absence on public business compelled
me to postpone a matter of private consideration a little longer than I
could have desired. It will only be necessary, however, to account for
it by informing you that I have been to Quincy on business that would
not admit of delay. I will now state briefly the reasons of my troubling
you with this communication, the disagreeable nature of which I regret,
as I had hoped to avoid any difficulty with any one in Springfield while
residing there, by endeavoring to conduct myself in such a way amongst
both my political friends and opponents, as to escape the necessity of
any. Whilst thus abstaining from giving provocation, I have become
the object of slander, vituperation, and personal abuse, which, were I
capable of submitting to, I would prove myself worthy of the whole of
it.
In two or three of the last number's of "The Sangamon Journal," articles
of the most personal nature, and calculated to degrade me, have made
their appearance. On inquiring, I was informed by the editor of that
paper, through the medium of my friend, Gen. Whiteside, that you are
the author of those articles. This information satisfies me that I have
become, by some means or other, the object of your secret hostility. I
will not take the trouble of inquiring into the reason of all this;
but I will take the liberty of requiring a full, positive, and
absolute retraction of all offensive allusions used by you in these
communications, in relation to my private character and standing as a
man, as an apology for the insults conveyed in them.
This may prevent consequences which no one will regret more than myself.
Your ob't serv't,
[Copy.] Jas. Shields.
About sunset Gen. Whiteside called again, and received from Mr. Lincoln
the following answer to Mr. Shields's note:--
Tremont, Sept. 17, 1812
Jas. Shields, Esq.--Your note of to-day was handed me by Gen. Whiteside.
In that note, you say you have been informed, through the medium of the
editor of "The Journal," that I am the author of certain articles
in that paper which you deem personally abusive of you; and, without
stopping to inquire whether I really am the author, or to point out what
is offensive in them, you demand an unqualified retraction of all that
is offensive, and then proceed to hint at consequences.
Now, sir, there is in this so much assumption of facts, and so much of
menace as to consequences, that I cannot submit to answer that note any
further than I have, and to add, that the consequence to which I suppose
you allude would be matter of as great regret to me as it possibly could
to you. Respectfully,
A. Lincoln.
In about an hour Gen. Whiteside called again with another note from Mr.
Shields; but after conferring with Mr. Butler for a long time, say two
or three hours, returned without presenting the note to Mr. Lincoln.
This was in consequence of an assurance from Mr. Butler that Mr. Lincoln
could not receive any communication from Mr. Shields, unless it were a
withdrawal of his first note, or a challenge. Mr. Butler further stated
to Gen. Whiteside, that, on the withdrawal of the first note, and a
proper and gentlemanly request for an explanation, he had no doubt one
would be given. Gen. Whiteside admitted that that was the course Mr.
Shields ought to pursue, but deplored that his furious and intractable
temper prevented his having any influence with him to that end. Gen. W.
then requested us to wait with him until Monday morning, that he might
endeavor to bring Mr. Shields to reason.
On Monday morning he called and presented Mr. Lincoln the same note
as, Mr. Butler says, he had brought on Saturday evening. It was as
follows:--
Tremont, Sept. 17, 1842.
A. Lincoln, Esq.--In your reply to my note of this date, you intimate
that I assume facts and menace consequences, and that you cannot submit
to answer it further. As now, sir, you desire it, I will be a little
more particular. The editor of "The Sangamon Journal" gave me to
understand that you are the author of an article which appeared,
I think, in that paper of the 2d September inst., headed "The Lost
Townships," and signed Rebecca or 'Becca. I would therefore take the
liberty of asking whether you are the author of said article, or any
other over the same signature which has appeared in any of the late
numbers of that paper. If so, I repeat my request of an absolute
retraction of all offensive allusion contained therein in relation to my
private character and standing. If you are not the author of any of the
articles, your denial will be sufficient. I will say further, it is not
my intention to menace, but to do myself justice.
Your ob't serv't,
[Copy.] Jas. Shields.
This Mr. Lincoln perused, and returned to Gen. Whiteside, telling
him verbally, that he did not think it consistent with his honor to
negotiate for peace with Mr. Shields, unless Mr. Shields would withdraw
his former offensive letter.
In a very short time Gen. Whiteside called with a note from Mr. Shields,
designating Gen. Whiteside as his friend, to which Mr. Lincoln instantly
replied, designating me as his. On meeting Gen. Whiteside, he proposed
that we should pledge our honor to each other that we would endeavor
to settle the matter amicably; to which I agreed, and stated to him the
only conditions on which it could be so settled; viz., the withdrawal
of Mr. Shields's first note; which he appeared to think reasonable, and
regretted that the note had been written,--saying, however, that he had
endeavored to prevail on Mr. Shields to write a milder one, but had not
succeeded. He added, too, that I must promise not to mention it, as he
would not dare to let Mr. Shields know that he was negotiating peace;
for, said he, "He would challenge me next, and as soon cut my throat
as not." Not willing that he should suppose my principal less dangerous
than his own, I promised not to mention our pacific intentions to Mr.
Lincoln or any other person; and we started for Springfield forthwith.
We all, except Mr. Shields, arrived in Springfield late at night on
Monday. We discovered that the affair had, somehow, got great publicity
in Springfield, and that an arrest was probable. To prevent this, it was
agreed by Mr. Lincoln and myself that he should leave early on Tuesday
morning. Accordingly, he prepared the following instructions for my
guide, on a suggestion from Mr. Butler that he had reason to believe
that an attempt would be made by the opposite party to have the matter
accommodated:--
In case Whiteside shall signify a wish to adjust this affair without
further difficulty, let him know, that, if the present papers be
withdrawn, and a note from Mr. Shields asking to know if I am the author
of the articles of which he complains, and asking that I shall make him
gentlemanly satisfaction if I am the author, and this without menace or
dictation as to what that satisfaction shall be, a pledge is made that
the following answer shall be given:--
"I did write the 'Lost Township' letter which appeared in the 'Journal'
of the 2d inst., but had no participation in any form in any other
article alluding to you. I wrote that wholly for political effect. I had
no intention of injuring your personal or private character, or standing
as a man or a gentleman; and I did not then think, and do not now think,
that that article could produce, or has produced, that effect against
you; and, had I anticipated such an effect, would have forborne to write
it. And I will add, that your conduct towards me, so far as I knew, had
always been gentlemanly, and that I had no personal pique against you,
and no cause for any."
If this should be done, I leave it with you to manage what shall and
what shall not be published.
If nothing like this is done, the preliminaries of the fight are to
be:--
1st, Weapons.--Cavalry broadswords of the largest size, precisely
equal in all respects, and such as now used by the cavalry company at
Jacksonville.
2d, Position.--A plank ten feet long, and from nine to twelve inches
broad, to be firmly fixed on edge on the ground as the line between us,
which neither is to pass his foot over upon forfeit of his life. Next, a
line drawn on the ground on either side of said plank and parallel with
it, each at the distance of the whole length of the sword and three
feet additional from the plank; and the passing of his own such line
by either party during the fight shall be deemed a surrender of the
contest.
3d, Time.--On Thursday evening at 5 o'clock, if you can get it so; but
in no case to be at a greater distance of time than Friday evening at 5
o'clock.
4th, Place.--Within three miles of Alton, on the opposite side of the
river, the particular spot to be agreed on by you.
Any preliminary details coming within the above rules, you are at
liberty to make at your discretion; but you are in no case to swerve
from these rules, or to pass beyond their limits.
In the course of the forenoon I met Gen. Whiteside, and he again
intimated a wish to adjust the matter amicably. I then read to him Mr.
Lincoln's instructions to an adjustment, and the terms of the hostile
meeting, if there must be one, both at the same time.
He replied that it was useless to talk of an adjustment, if it could
only be effected by the _withdrawal_ of Mr. Shields's paper, for such
withdrawal Mr. Shields would never consent to; adding, that he would as
soon think of asking Mr. Shields to "butt his brains out against a
brick wall as to withdraw that paper." He proceeded: "I see but one
course,--that is a desperate remedy:'tis to tell them, if they will not
make the matter up, they must fight us." I replied, that, if he chose to
fight Mr. Shields to compel him to do right, he might do so; but as for
Mr. Lincoln, he was on the defensive, and, I believed, in the right, and
I should do nothing to compel him to do wrong. Such withdrawal having
been made indispensable by Mr. Lincoln, I cut this matter short as to an
adjustment, an I proposed to Gan. Whiteside to accept the terms of the
fight, which he refused to do until Mr. Shields's arrival in town,
but agreed, verbally, that Mr. Lincoln's friends should procure the
broadswords, and take them to the ground. In the afternoon he came to
me, saying that some persons were swearing out affidavits to have us
arrested, and that he intended to meet Mr. Shields immediately, and
proceed to the place designated; lamenting, however, that I would not
delay the time, that he might procure the interference of Gov. Ford and
Gen. Ewing to mollify Mr. Shields. I told him that an accommodation,
except upon the terms I mentioned, was out of the question; that to
delay the meeting was to facilitate our arrest; and, as I was determined
not to be arrested, I should leave town in fifteen minutes. I then
pressed his acceptance of the preliminaries, which he disclaimed upon
the ground that it would interfere with his oath of office as Fund
Commissioner. I then, with two other friends, went to Jacksonville,
where we joined Mr. Lincoln about 11 o'clock on Tuesday night. Wednesday
morning we procured the broadswords, and proceeded to Alton, where we
arrived about 11, A.M., on Thursday. The other party were in town before
us. We crossed the river, and they soon followed. Shortly after, Gen.
Hardin and Dr. English presented to Gen. Whiteside and myself the
following note:--
Alton, Sept. 22, 1842.
Messrs. Whiteside and Merryman.--As the mutual personal friends of
Messrs. Shields and Lincoln, but without authority from either, we
earnestly desire to see a reconciliation of the misunderstanding
which exists between them. Such difficulties should always be arranged
amicably, if it is possible to do so with honor to both parties.
Believing ourselves, that such an arrangement can possibly be effected,
we respectfully, but earnestly, submit the following proposition for
your consideration:--
Let the whole difficulty be submitted to four or more gentlemen, to
be selected by yourselves, who shall consider the affair, and report
thereupon for your consideration.
John J. Hardin.
E. W. English.
To this proposition Gen. Whiteside agreed: I declined doing so without
consulting Mr. Lincoln. Mr. Lincoln remarked, that, as they had accepted
the proposition, he would do so, but directed that his friends should
make no terms except those first proposed. Whether the adjustment was
finally made upon these very terms, and no other, let the following
documents attest:--
Missouri, Sept. 22, 1842.
Gentlemen,--All papers in relation to the matter in controversy between
Mr. Shields and Mr. Lincoln having been withdrawn by the friends of the
parties concerned, the friends of Mr. Shields ask the friends of Mr.
Lincoln to explain all offensive matter in the articles which appeared
in "The Sangamon Journal" of the 2d, 9th, and 16th of September, under
the signature of "Rebecca," and headed "Lost Townships."
It is due to Gen. Hardin and Mr. English to state that their
interference was of the most courteous and gentlemanly character.
John D. Whiteside.
Wm. Lee D. Ewino.
T. M. Hope.
Missouri, Sept. 22, 1842.
Gentlemen,--All papers in relation to the matter in controversy between
Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Shields having been withdrawn by the friends of
the parties concerned, we, the undersigned, friends of Mr. Lincoln,
in accordance with your request that explanation of Mr. Lincoln's
publication in relation to Mr. Shields in "The Sangamon Journal" of the
2d, 9th, and 16th of September be made, take pleasure in saying, that,
although Mr. Lincoln was the writer of the article signed "Rebecca"
in the "Journal" of the 2d, and that only, yet he had no intention of
injuring the personal or private character or standing of Mr. Shields
as a gentleman or a man, and that Mr. Lincoln did not think, nor does he
now think, that said article could produce such an effect; and, had Mr.
Lincoln anticipated such an effect, he would have forborne to write
it. We will further state, that said article was written solely for
political effect, and not to gratify any personal pique against Mr.
Shields, for he had none, and knew of no cause for any It is due to Gen.
Hanlin and Mr. English to say that their interference was of the most
courteous and gentlemanly character.
E. H. Merryman.
A. T. Bledsoe.
Wm. Butler.
Let it be observed now, that Mr. Shields's friends, after agreeing to
the arbitrament of four disinterested gentlemen, declined the contract,
saying that Mr. Shields wished his own friends to act for him. They then
proposed that we should explain without any withdrawal of papers. This
was promptly and firmly refused, and Gen. Whiteside himself pronounced
the papers withdrawn. They then produced a note requesting us to
"_disavow_" all offensive intentions in the publications, &c., &c. This
we declined answering, and only responded to the above request for an
explanation.
These are the material facts in relation to the matter, and I think
present the case in a very different light from the garbled and
curtailed statement of Gen. Whiteside. Why he made that statement I know
not, unless he wished to detract from the honor of Mr. Lincoln. This was
ungenerous, more particularly as he on the ground requested us not to
make in our explanation any quotations from the "Rebecca papers;" also
not to make _public the terms of reconciliation_, and to unite with them
in defending the honorable character of the adjustment.
Gen. W., in his publication, says, "The friends of both parties agreed
to withdraw the papers (temporarily) to give the friends of Mr. Lincoln
an opportunity to explain." This I deny. I say the papers were withdrawn
to enable Mr. Shields's friends to _ask_ an explanation; and I appeal to
the documents for proof of my position.
By looking over these documents, it will be seen that Mr. Shields
had not before asked for an _explanation_, but had all the time been
dictatorily insisting on a _retraction_.
Gen. Whiteside, in his communication, brings to light much of Mr.
Shields's manifestations of bravery behind the scenes. I can do nothing
of the kind for Mr. Lincoln. He took his stand when I first met him at
Tremont, and maintained it _calmly_ to the last, without difficulty or
difference between himself and his friends.
I cannot close this article, lengthy as it is, without testifying to the
honorable and gentlemanly conduct of Gen. Ewing and Dr. Hope, nor indeed
can I say that I saw any thing objectionable in the course of Gen.
Whiteside up to the time of his communication. This is so replete with
prevarication and misrepresentation, that I cannot accord to the General
that candor which I once supposed him to possess. He complains that I
did not procrastinate time according to agreement. He forgets that by
his own act he cut me off from that chance in inducing me, by promise,
not to communicate our secret contract to Mr. Lincoln. Moreover, I could
see no consistency in wishing for an extension of time at that stage of
the affair, when in the outset they were in so precipitate a hurry, that
they could not wait three days for Mr. Lincoln to return from Tremont,
but must hasten there, apparently with the intention of bringing the
matter to a speedy issue. He complains, too, that, after inviting him
to take a seat in my buggy, I never broached the subject to him on
our route here. But was I, the defendant in the case, with a challenge
hanging over me, to make advances, and beg a reconciliation? Absurd!
Moreover, the valorous general forgets that he beguiled the tedium
of the journey by recounting to me his exploits in many a well-fought
battle,--dangers by "flood and field" in which I don't believe he ever
participated,--doubtless with a view to produce a salutary effect on
my nerves, and impress me with a proper notion of his fire-eating
propensities.
One more main point of his argument, and I have done. The General seems
to be troubled with a convenient shortness of memory on some occasions.
He does not remember that any explanations were offered at any time,
unless it were a paper read when the "broadsword proposition" was
tendered, when his mind was so confused by the anticipated clatter of
broadswords, or _something else_, that he did "not know fully what
it purported to be." The truth is, that by unwisely refraining from
mentioning it to his principal, he placed himself in a dilemma which he
is now endeavoring to shuffle out of. By his inefficiency, and want of
knowledge of those laws which govern gentlemen in matters of this kind,
he has done great injustice to his principal, a gentleman who I believe
is ready at all times to vindicate his honor manfully, but who has been
unfortunate in the selection of his friend; and this fault he is now
trying to wipe out by doing an act of still greater injustice to Mr.
Lincoln.
E. H. Merryman.
And so Mr. Lincoln acknowledged himself to have been the author of one
of the "Lost Township Letters." Whether he was or not, was known only
perhaps to Miss Todd and himself. At the time of their date, he was
having secret meetings with her at Mr. Francis's house, and endeavoring
to nerve himself to the duty of marrying her, with what success the
letters to Speed are abundant evidence. It is probable that Mary
composed them fresh from these stolen conferences; that some of Mr.
Lincoln's original conceptions and peculiarities of style unwittingly
crept into them, and that here and there he altered and amended the
manuscript before it went to the printer. Such a connection with a
lady's productions made it obligatory upon him to defend them. But
why avow one, and disavow the rest? It is more than likely that he was
determined to take just enough responsibility to fight upon, provided
Shields should prove incorrigible, and not enough to prevent a peaceful
issue, if the injured gentleman should be inclined to accept an apology.
After his marriage, Mr. Lincoln took up his residence at the "Globe
Tavern," where he had a room and boarding for man and wife for the
moderate sum of four dollars per week. But, notwithstanding cheap
living, he was still as poor as ever, and gave "poverty" as one of his
reasons for not paying a friendly visit which seemed to be expected of
him.
At the bar and in political affairs he continued to work with as much
energy as before, although his political prospects seem just now to have
suffered an unexpected eclipse. In 1843, Lincoln, Hardin, and Baker were
candidates for the Whig congressional nomination; but between Hardin
and Baker there was "bitter hostility," and between Baker and Lincoln
"suspicion and dislike." The contest was long and fierce; but, before it
was over, Lincoln reluctantly withdrew in favor of Baker. He had had a
hard time of it, and had been compelled to meet accusations of a very
strange character. Among other things, he was charged with being
an aristocrat; with having deserted his old friends, the people, by
marrying a proud woman on account of her blood and family. This hurt him
keenly, and he took great pains to disprove it; but this was not all.
He was called an infidel by some, a Presbyterian here, an Episcopalian
there; so that by turns he incurred the hostility of all the most
powerful religious societies in the district.
On the 24th of March, he wrote to Mr. Speed as follows:--
Springfield, March 24, 1843.
Dear Speed,--... We had a meeting of the Whigs of the county here on
last Monday to appoint delegates to a district convention; and Baker
beat me, and got the delegation instructed to go for him. The meeting,
in spite of my attempt to decline it, appointed me one of the delegates;
so that, in getting Baker the nomination, I shall be fixed a good deal
like a fellow who is made a groomsman to a man that has cut him out,
and is marrying his own dear "gal." About the prospects of your having a
namesake at our town, can't say exactly yet.
A. Lincoln.
He was now a Baker delegate, pledged to get him the nomination if he
could; and yet he was far from giving up the contest in his own behalf.
Only two days after the letter to Speed, he wrote to Mr. Morris:--
Springfield, Ill., March 26, 1843.
Friend Morris,--Your letter of the 23d was received on yesterday
morning, and for which (instead of an excuse, which you thought proper
to ask) I tender you my sincere thanks. It is truly gratifying to me
to learn, that, while the people of Sangamon have cast me off, my old
friends of Menard, who have known me longest and best, stick to me.
It would astonish, if not amuse, the older citizens (a stranger,
friendless, uneducated, penniless boy, working on a flat-boat at ten
dollars per month) to learn that I have been put down here as the
candidate of pride, wealth, and aristocratic family distinction. Yet
so, chiefly, it was. There was, too, the strangest combination of
church-influence against me. Baker is a Campbellite; and therefore, as I
suppose, with few exceptions, got all that church.
My wife has some relations in the Presbyterian churches, and some with
the Episcopal churches; and therefore, wherever it would tell, I was set
down as either the one or the other, while it was everywhere contended
that no Christian ought to go for me, because I belonged to no church,
was suspected of being a deist, and had talked about fighting a duel.
With all these things, Baker, of course, had nothing to do. Nor do I
complain of them. As to his own church going for him, I think that was
right enough: and as to the influences I have spoken of in the other,
though they were very strong, it would be grossly untrue and unjust to
charge that they acted upon them in a body, or were very near so. I only
mean that those influences levied a tax of a considerable per cent upon
my strength throughout the religious controversy. But enough of this.
You say, that, in choosing a candidate for Congress, you have an
equal right with Sangamon; and in this you are undoubtedly earnest. In
agreeing to withdraw if the Whigs of Sangamon should go against me, I
did not mean that they alone were worth consulting, but that if she,
with her heavy delegation, should be against me, it would be impossible
for me to succeed; and therefore I had as well decline. And in relation
to Menard having rights, permit me fully to recognize them, and to
express the opinion, that, if she and Mason act circumspectly, they will
in the convention be able so far to enforce their rights as to decide
absolutely which _one_ of the candidates shall be successful. Let me
show the reason of this. Hardin, or some other Morgan candidate, will
get Putnam, Marshall, Woodford, Tazewell, and Logan,--make sixteen.
Then you and Mason, having three, can give the victory to either side.
You say you shall instruct your delegates for me, unless I object. I
certainly shall not object. That would be too pleasant a compliment for
me to tread in the dust. And besides, if any thing should happen (which,
however, is not probable) by which Baker should be thrown out of the
fight, I would be at liberty to accept the nomination if I could get
it. I do, however, feel myself bound not to hinder him in any way from
getting the nomination. I should despise myself were I to attempt it.
I think, then, it would be proper for your meeting to appoint three
delegates, and to instruct them to go for some one as a first choice,
some one else as a second, and perhaps some one as a third; and, if in
those instructions I were named as the first choice, it would gratify me
very much.
If you wish to hold the balance of power, it is important for you to
attend to and secure the vote of Mason also. You should be sure to have
men appointed delegates that you know you can safely confide in. If
yourself and James Short were appointed for your county, all would be
safe; but whether Jim's woman affair a year ago might not be in the way
of his appointment is a question. I don't know whether you know it, but
I know him to be as honorable a man as there is in the world. You have
my permission, and even request, to show this letter to Short; but to no
one else, unless it be a very particular friend, who you know will not
speak of it.
Yours as ever,
A. Lincoln.
P. S.--Will you write me again?
[Illustration: Joshua F. Speed 306]
To Martin M. Morris, Petersburg, 111.
And finally to Speed on the same subject:--
Springfield, May 18, 1843.
Dear Speed,--Yours of the 9th inst. is duly received, which I do not
meet as a "bore," but as a most welcome visitor. I will answer the
business part of it first.
In relation to our Congress matter here, you were right in supposing I
would support the nominee. Neither Baker nor I, however, is the man, but
Hardin, so far as I can judge from present appearances. We shall have no
split or trouble about the matter,--all will be harmony. In relation to
the "coming events" about which Butler wrote you, I had not heard one
word before I got your letter; but I have so much confidence in the
judgment of a Butler on such a subject, that I incline to think there
may be some reality in it. What day does Butler appoint? By the way, how
do "events" of the same sort come on in your family? Are you
possessing houses and lands, and oxen and asses, and men-servants and
maid-servants, and begetting sons and daughters? We are not keeping
house, but boarding at the Globe Tavern, which is very well kept now
by a widow lady of the name of Beck. Our room (the same Dr. Wallace
occupied there) and boarding only costs us four dollars a week. Ann Todd
was married something more than a year since to a fellow by the name of
Campbell, and who, Mary says, is pretty much of a "dunce," though he has
a little money and property. They live in Boonville, Mo., and have not
been heard from lately enough for me to say any thing about her health.
I reckon it will scarcely be in our power to visit Kentucky this year.
Besides poverty and the necessity of attending to business, those
"coming events," I suspect, would be somewhat in the way. I most
heartily wish you and your Fanny would not fail to come. Just let us
know the time, and we will have a room provided for you at our house,
and all be merry together for a while. Be sure to give my respects to
your mother and family: assure her, that, if I ever come near her, I
will not fail to call and see her. Mary joins in sending love to your
Fanny and you.
Yours as ever,
A. Lincoln.
After the "race," still smarting from the mortification of defeat,
and the disappointment of a cherished hope, he took his old friend Jim
Matheny away off to a solitary place in the woods, "and then and there,"
"with great emphasis," protested that he had not grown proud, and was
not an aristocrat. "Jim," said he, in conclusion, "I am now, and always
shall be, the same Abe Lincoln that I always was."