WHICH PRESENTS THE PLEASANT COMEDY OF INDIVIDUALISM IN THE NEW CAPITAL,
AND THE COURTSHIP OF LINCOLN AND MARY TODD.
Samson, with "Mr. Nimble" on a pad stuffed with straw in front of him,
jogged across the prairies and waded the creeks and sloughs on his way to
Springfield. The little lad was in his fourth year that summer. He slept
and talked much on the way and kept Samson busy with queries about the
sky and the creeks and the great flowery meadows. They camped the first
night in a belt of timber and Samson writes that the boy "slept snug
against me with his head on my arm. He went to sleep crying for his
mother." He adds:
* * * * *
"It reminded me of the old days of my young fatherhood. 'Mr. Nimble'
wanted to pick all the the flowers and splash his bare feet in every
stream. In the evening he would talk to the stars as if he were playing
with them. To him the whole world is a plaything. He is like some of the
grown folks in Chicago. He would sit hanging on to the reins and talk to
the horse and to God by the hour. He used to tell me that God was a
friend of his and I think he was right. It was good luck to get back to
Sarah and the children. They took the little stranger into their hearts.
'Heart room, house room' is the motto of this part of the country."
* * * * *
It was a new town to which Samson returned. The Governor and the state
officers had moved to Springfield. The new Capitol was nearing
completion. The hard times which had followed the downfall of '37
had unjustly diminished Mr. Lincoln's confidence in his ability as a
legislator. He enjoyed the practice of the law which had begun to turn
his interest from the affairs of state. But the pot of political science
boiled before the fireplace in the rear of Joshua Speed's store every
evening that Lincoln and his associates were in Springfield. The wit and
wisdom which bubbled into its vapors and the heat that surrounded it were
the talk of the town. Many came to witness the process and presently it
was moved, for a time, to more accommodating quarters. Before a crowd of
people in the Presbyterian Church, Lincoln, Logan, Baker and Browning for
the Whigs, and Douglas, Calhoun, Lamborn and Thomas for the Democrats,
having assiduously prepared for the trial, debated the burning issues of
the time. The effort of each filled an evening and Lincoln's speech gave
him new hope of himself. Wise men began to have great confidence in his
future. He had taken the style of Webster for his model. He no longer
used the broad humor which had characterized his efforts on the stump.
A study of the best speeches of the great New Englander had made him
question its value in a public address. Dignity, clear reasoning and
impressiveness were the chief aims of his new method, the latter of
which is aptly illustrated by this passage from his speech in reply to
Douglas in the debate mentioned:
* * * * *
"If I ever feel the soul within me elevate and expand to those dimensions
not wholly unworthy of its Almighty Architect it is when I contemplate
the cause of my country deserted by all the world besides, and I standing
up boldly and alone and hurling defiance at her victorious oppressors.
Here without contemplating consequences before high heaven and in the
face of the world I swear eternal fidelity to the just cause, as I deem
it, of the land of my life, my liberty and my love."
* * * * *
In these perfervid utterances one may find little to admire save a great
spirit seeking to express itself and lacking as yet the refinement of
taste equal to his undertaking. He was no heaven-born genius "sprung in
full panoply from the head of Jove." He was just one of the slow, common
folk, with a passion for justice and human rights, slowly feeling his way
upward. His spirit was growing. Strong in its love and knowledge of
common men and of the things necessary to their welfare, it was beginning
to seek and know "the divine power of words." Every moment of leisure he
gave to the study of Webster and Burke and Byron and Shakespeare and
Burns. He had begun to study the art of Irving and Walter Scott and of a
new writer of the name of Dickens. There were four men who slept with
him, in the room above Speed's store, and one of them has told how he
used to lie sprawled on the floor, with his pillow and candle, reading
long after the others had gone to sleep. Samson writes that he never knew
a man who understood the art of using minutes as he did. A detached
minute was to him a thing to be filled with value. Yet there were few
men so deeply in love with fun. He loved to laugh at a story-telling and
to match his humor with Thompson Campbell--a famous raconteur--and to
play with children. Fun was as necessary to him as sleep. He searched for
it in people and in books.
He came often to Samson's house to play with "Mr. Nimble" and to talk
with Joe. Some of his best thoughts came when he was talking with Joe and
some of his merriest moments when he was playing with "Mr. Nimble." He
confessed that it was the latter that reminded him that he had better be
looking for a wife.
But Lincoln was only one of many remarkable personalities in Springfield
who had discovered themselves and were seeking to be discovered. Sundry
individuals were lifting their heads above the crowd but not with the
modesty and self-distrust of Honest Abe. "Steve" Douglas, whom Samson had
referred to as "that little rooster of a man," put on the stilts of a
brave and ponderous vigor. His five-foot stature and his hundred pounds
of weight did not fit the part of Achilles. But he would have no other.
He blustered much with a spear too heavy for his hands. Lincoln used to
call him a kind of popgun.
This free-for-all joust of individualism--one of the first fruits of
Freedom in the West--gave to the life of the little village a rich flavor
of comedy. The great talents of Douglas had not been developed. His
character was as yet shifty and shapeless. Some of the leading citizens
openly distrusted him. He sought to command respect by assaulting men of
full size and was repeatedly and soundly thumped for his presumption. He
had endeavored publicly to chastise the sturdy Simeon Francis and had
been bent over a market cart and severely wigged by the editor. Lincoln
used to call these affairs "the mistakes of Douglas due wholly to the
difference between the size of his body and the size of his feelin's." He
never liked this little man, in opposing whom he was to come to the
fulness of his power on the platform. It is evident that Lincoln regarded
him as an able advocate of small sincerity looking chiefly for personal
advancement.
There is a passage in the diary which illustrates the character of
Douglas and Lincoln's knowledge of it. The passage relates to a day in
the famous debates of 1858. Lincoln had not reached Havana in time to
hear the speech of his opponent. A great crowd had come by train and in
wagons. Taking advantage of his absence Douglas had called Lincoln "a
liar, a coward and a sneak" and declared that he was going to fight him.
Lincoln heard of this and said in his speech:
"I shall not fight with Judge Douglas. A fight could prove nothing at
issue in this campaign. It might prove that he is a more muscular man
than I or that I am a more muscular man than he, but this subject is not
mentioned in either platform. Again he and I are really very good friends
and when we are together he would no more think of fighting me than of
fighting his wife. Therefore when the Judge talked about fighting he was
not giving vent to any ill feeling but was trying to excite--well, let us
say enthusiasm against me on the part of his audience."
Justice accomplished her ends now and then with comic displays of
violence in the prairie capital. One night Abe Lincoln and certain of his
friends captured a shoe-maker who had beaten his wife and held him at the
village pump while the aggrieved woman gave him a sound thrashing. So
this phase of imperialism was cured in Springfield by "hair off the same
dog" as Lincoln put it.
One evening while E.D. Baker was speaking in the crowded village court
room above Lincoln's office and was rudely interrupted and in danger of
assault, the long legs of Honest Abe suddenly appeared through a scuttle
hole in the ceiling above the platform. He leaped upon it and seizing a
stone water pitcher defied any one to interfere with the right of free
speech in a worthy cause.
So it will be seen that there were zestful moments in these sundry
vindications of the principles of Democracy in the prairie capital.
About this time Miss Mary Todd, the daughter of a Kentucky banker,
arrived in Springfield to visit her sister, Mrs. Ninian W. Edwards. She
was a fashionably dressed, good-looking girl of blue-gray eyes and dark
hair. She had been well educated in the schools of Lexington and could
speak French as well as English.
"Well, Mary, haven't you found the fortunate young man yet?" Mr. Edwards
playfully asked the day of her coming.
"You know my husband is going to be President of the United States and
I hoped that I would find him in Springfield," Mary answered in a like
vein.
"There's great fishing here," said Mr. Edwards. "I know the very man
you are looking for. He has come up from the ranks and is now the most
popular member of the Legislature. He can make a stirring speech and they
say he is going to be the President of the United States. He's wise and
witty and straight as a string but a rough diamond--big, awkward and
homely. You're just the girl to take him in hand and give him a little
polish and push him along. His name is Abraham Lincoln."
Speed knew the Todds--a distinguished Kentucky family with a Governor of
Virginia and other historic figures in its record. When he called upon
Mary she asked about Mr. Lincoln and said she would like to meet him.
"She's just the girl for you, Abe," Speed said to him that evening. "She
is bright and well educated and her family has influence. She could be a
great help to you."
This interested the member from Sangamon County who was indeed eager to
get along. The companionship of a refined young lady was the very thing
he needed.
"Let's go over and pay our respects to her," Speed suggested. They went,
Lincoln being carefully dressed in his first suit of black clothes.
Miss Todd was a bright, vivacious girl of middle stature, twenty-two
years old. She was fashionably dressed and carried her head proudly--a
smart-looking, witty, well spoken girl but not especially handsome. She
was most agreeable to the young men. Honest Abe was deeply impressed by
her talk and fine manners and general comeliness. He felt her grace and
charm and spoke of it, with enthusiasm. But to him and to her there
seemed to be an impassable gulf between them. She changed her mind about
that, however, when she heard him speak and felt the power of his
personality and saw his face lighted by the candle of his spirit. It was
a handsome face in those moments of high elation. Hardship and malarial
poison had lined and sallowed his skin. He used to say that every time
the fever and ague walked over him, they left a track on his face. The
shadows of loneliness and sorrow were in its sculpturing. But when his
eyes glowed with passion one saw not the rough mask which the life of
the pioneer had given him. His form lost its awkwardness; his face took
on a noble and impressive beauty. Those times every eye looked longingly
upon him because of the great and wonderful things with which he was
interfused. To quote his own words to the boy, Josiah Traylor, his
character was speaking as well as his lips. Mary had the insight to
recognize his power. She felt the strength of his spirit. She agreed with
her friends that here was a man of great promise. She felt the need of
him.
To one who loved beauty and respected women as he did the grace and
refinement of this young lady had a singular appeal coupled as it was
with the urge of his strong, masculine nature. It was a revelation. He
was like a young poet going out into the open and seeing for the first
time the mysterious beauty of the mountains or "the exquisite, delicate,
thin curve of the new moon in spring." He began to seek and study
refinement of thought, of manner, of dress, of expression. He knew that
he needed Mary but had the feeling that she was not for him.
A woman who lived near the Edwards's house had a small, hairy, poodle
dog. One day as Abe and Mary were walking along the street, they met this
woman who asked if they had seen her dog.
"I wouldn't wonder if some one down the street had got him tied to the
end of a pole and is using him to swab off his windows," said Abe Lincoln
with a good-natured laugh. "I'll try to find him for you."
Mary enjoyed fun and this and like sallies of the young legislator added
a certain zest to their friendship. Women are like children in their love
of humor.
The diminutive Douglas saw in Miss Todd an asset of much value and his
attentions began to be assiduous. Mary was indifferent to his lofty
manner and sonorous vocalism. Abe Lincoln liked her better for that.
She encouraged the visits of the latter and invited his confidence. The
fact filled him with a great joy. They went about together. In the
Edwards parlor he modestly told her of his work and his life plan.
She differed with him on certain subjects which were unfortunately
fundamental. He did not love her as he had loved Ann. But her personality
pleased and fascinated the young legislator. One evening under the
spell of it he asked her to be his wife. She consented. Then he began to
think it over.
It was like Lincoln in his relations with women to get the cart before
the horse so to speak. The points upon which they disagreed came up for
consideration. She could not think as he did on the subject of slavery
and the kindred one of State Rights. His manners were not like hers. He
was thirty-one years old that summer. It was rather late in life to
undertake any great change in his manners. They grew naturally out of
one's history and character. He could be kind and gentle in his way. But,
mainly, his manners would have to be like the rugged limbs of the oak.
The grace and elegance of the water-willow and the white birch were not
for him. It saddened him to conclude that he would have to be for a long
time just what he was--crude, awkward, unlearned in the graces and
amenities of cultivated people. He rightly judged that his crudeness
would be a constant source of irritation to the proud Mary. As their
acquaintance progressed the truth of his conviction grew more apparent.
This, however, did not so much concern him as her lack of sympathy with
some of his deepest motives. He decided that, after all, he did not love
her and that to marry her would be committing a great Wrong.
Some of the unhappiest days of his life followed. His conscience gave him
no rest. He knew not what to do. He told a friend that if his misery were
equally distributed to the whole human race each would have a troublesome
burden. He was wont to take long walks into the country with "Mr. Nimble"
those days often carrying the boy on his shoulders. It is likely that the
little lad was a great comfort to him. He wrote a letter to Miss Todd in
which he reviewed the history of his thinking on the subject of their
marriage and frankly but tenderly stated his conviction that it would
imperil her happiness to marry him. Before sending it he submitted the
letter to his friend Speed.
The latter read it over and looked very grave.
"What do you think of it?" Lincoln asked.
"I would never send a letter like that to a lady," Speed answered. "If
you feel as you say go and tell her so, but don't put it in a letter."
Lincoln went to see her that evening and returned to his friend in a more
cheerful mood.
"Did you tell her?" Speed asked.
"Yes, I told her."
"What happened?"
"She burst out crying and I threw my arms around her and kissed her and
that settled it. We are going to be married."
What an illustration of the humanity and chivalry of Honest Abe was in
the proceeding!
"I'm sure you'll get along all right together," said Speed. "Your spirit
is jealous of any one likely to get in its way. But she won't. She'll
fall in line and do what she can to help you."
Now a little before this time Henry Brimstead and other creditors of
Davis had gone to Chicago in the matter of the satisfaction of their
judgment against him. Henry had driven a wagon across the prairies and,
returning, had brought Bim and her mother to his home and then to
Springfield. It was while they were there that Harry had come down to
Chicago out of the woods in a condition of health which had alarmed his
physician. The latter had put him on a steamboat and sent him east. He
was bound for the mountain country in northern New York.
Bim and her mother returned to Chicago on the stage, the former to take
a place in the store as the representative of Samson's interest.
Harry was three years in the wilderness trying to regain his health.
Success came to him in the last year of his banishment.
Toward the end of it he received a letter from Mr. Lincoln. It was
written soon after that curious climax in the courting of Mary Todd. In
this letter he said:
* * * * *
"I am serving my last term in the Legislature. I learn that you are in
better health and I hope that you will have the strength and inclination
to return soon and be a candidate for my seat in the house. Samson will
not do it, being so busy with large affairs. You are young. You have won
distinction in the service of your country. You have studied the problems
of the county and the state. Samson and Baker and Logan and Browning
agree with me that you are the man for the place.
"As for myself I am going to be married in a year or so. I shall have to
give all my time to the practice of the law. I am now in partnership with
Stephen T. Logan and am slowly clearing my conscience of debt. I have
done what I could for the state and for Sangamon County. It hasn't been
much. I want you to take up the burden, if you can, until I get free of
my debts at least. By and by I may jump into the ring again."
* * * * *
Harry was glad to obey the summons. Soon after the arrival of Mr.
Lincoln's letter his doctor gave the young man what he called "an
honorable discharge." The magic of youth and its courage and of good air
had wrought a change of which the able doctor had had little hope in the
beginning.
In his travels through the great forest Harry had met David Parish and
Stephen Van Renssalaer at whose homes on the shore of the St. Lawrence he
had spent many a happy, summer day. Three years had passed since that
fateful morning on the prairie. Through the winters he had lived in a
comfortable hunter's camp on the shore of Lake Placid. Summers he had
wandered with a guide and canoe through the lakes and rivers of the
wilderness hunting and fishing and reading the law books which he had
borrowed from Judge Fine of Ogdensburg. Each summer he worked down the
Oswegatchie to that point for a visit with his new friends. The history
of every week had been written to Bim and her letters had reached him at
the points where he was wont to rest in his travels. The lovers had not
lost their ardor. Theirs was the love "that hopes and endures and is
patient."
On a day in June, 1841, he boarded a steamboat at Ogdensburg on his way
to Chicago. He arrived in the evening and found Samson at the home of Bim
and her mother--a capacious and well-furnished house on Dearborn Street.
Bim was then a little over twenty-five years old. A letter from John
Wentworth says that she was "an exquisite bit of womanhood learned in the
fine arts of speech and dress and manner." He spoke also of her humor and
originality and of her gift for business "which amounted to absolute
genius."
The store had doubled in size under her management and with the help
of the capital of Samson and Sarah Traylor. Its wholesale and retail
business was larger than any north of St. Louis. The epidemic had seized
her toward the last of her nursing and left the marks of its scourge upon
her. It had marred her beauty but Samson writes, "the girl was still very
handsome. She was well filled out and stood as straight as an arrow and
was always dressed as neat as a pin. I fear she was a little extravagant
about that. She carried her head like a sleek, well-fed Morgan colt.
She was kind of scared to meet Harry for fear of what he'd think of those
little marks on her face but I told her not to worry."
"You are the smartest and loveliest looking creature that I ever saw in
my life," said Harry after he had held her in his arms a moment.
"But see what has happened to me--look at my face," she answered.
"It is more beautiful than ever," he said. "Those marks have doubled my
love for you. They are medals of honor better than this one that I wear."
"Then I think that I'll take you off and marry you before you have a
chance to fight another duel or find another war to go to," said Bim.
"There is the mustache that I used to long for and which wouldn't come,"
she added with a smile.
"Is there anything else that I seem to need?" Harry asked. "I could grow
whiskers now."
"Don't," she answered. "The great need of the West is shears and razors
and a law to compel their use. There can be little romance in the midst
of so much hair."
"I shall be careful not to offend you," Harry laughed. "I want to marry
you as soon as possible. I've been looking forward to that since I was
sixteen."
"I don't hear of anything but love and marriage," said Samson. "We've
been rassling down at our house to keep Josiah from running off and
getting married. He's engaged already."
"Engaged! To whom?" Harry asked.
"To Annabel Brimstead. She's a little older than he is. She laughed at
him and promised to marry him as soon as he was nominated for President
by all his friends. She would now vote for him herself. He has become a
good athlete and the best scholar in school. He has every boy and girl in
the village working for him evenings and Saturdays."
"What are they doing?" Harry asked.
"Making those newfangled things they call lucifers. You can build a fire
in a second with 'em. They cut splinters out of soft wood, dip their ends
in brimstone--which Joe learned how to make--and put them in a hot oven
until the brimstone is baked. Then a scratch will bring a flame. Joe puts
them up in bundles and sells them to the merchants and calls them lucifer
matches. He has invented a machine that will cut and dip a thousand
splinters an hour. I tell you Annabel is in danger."
He took a lucifer out of his pocket and scratched it on the bottom of his
boot. The party looked with wonder at its flame which quickly consumed
the slender thread of pine in his fingers.
"I have always thought that Joe would make a whale of a man," said Harry.
"We all seem to be threatened with immediate and overwhelming happiness,"
Bim exclaimed.
"The only thing in the way of mine is the national debt that I have
accumulated," Harry remarked.
"I knew he'd think of something," said Bim ruefully. "If I wanted to
abolish the noble institution of marriage I'd make him chairman of the
ways and means committee."
"Harry, your credit is still good with me, and I'm prosperous," Samson
began. "I want you to know that Bim's energy and skill are mostly
responsible for my success. I guess we owe more to your sickness than
you're aware of. If it hadn't been for that we would be plodding along at
the same old pace. We would not have felt the need of speeding up. It was
your misfortune that brought Bim into the store. If she wants to retire
and marry you I rather think she is entitled to do it. I don't want any
more fooling around about this matter. Sarah and I couldn't stand it.
She's kept me awake nights talking about it. The thing has worried us
plenty. We rebel and demand action before anything else happens. We feel
as if we had some rights in this case."
"I concede them and second your demand," Harry answered. "Bim must name
a near day. I only need a week to get some clothes made and to go up to
Milwaukee on a little matter of business."
"I don't know whether we'll give him a week or not," said Bim playfully.
"A great many things may happen to him in a week."