MR. LINCOLN’S FAMILY.
When Mr. Lincoln’s first Congressional term expired, he declined to be a
candidate for re-election. He was a delegate to the convention that
nominated General Taylor for the Presidency, and did what he could to
bring about his election. He would have preferred Henry Clay, who was
unquestionably far more fit for the position of Chief Magistrate, being
an experienced statesman, while Taylor was only a rough soldier; but
availability then, as now, controlled the choice of conventions, and
Clay was laid aside, failing, like Webster, to reach the Presidency.
My young readers are aware that President Taylor died about a year after
his inauguration, and was succeeded by Millard Fillmore, the
Vice-President. Mr. Fillmore offered Lincoln the position of Governor of
Oregon, then a Territory. The offer was considered, and might have been
accepted but for the opposition of Mrs. Lincoln, who naturally objected
to going so far from home and friends. So, for the time, Mr. Lincoln
retired from politics, though he by no means ceased to feel an interest
in the state of the country. He, like other sagacious statesmen, saw
that slavery was to be the rock in the way of national harmony, and we
are told by Mr. Lamon, that when coming home to Springfield from the
Fremont Court in company with Mr. Stuart, he said: “The time will come
when we must all be Democrats or Abolitionists. When that time comes my
mind is made up. The slavery question can’t be compromised.”
About this time his father, who had lived to see the first political
success of his son, was drawing near the end of his life. His latter
years had been made comfortable by the pecuniary help freely tendered by
his son, who gave, but not out of his abundance. Anxious that his father
should have every comfort which his case required, he wrote the
following letter, which I quote, because it illustrates not only his
solicitude for his family, but also exhibits his faith in his Maker:
“Springfield, _January_ 12, 1851.
“Dear Brother--On the day before yesterday I received a letter from
Harriet, written at Greenup. She says she has just returned from
your house, and that father is very low, and will hardly recover.
She also says that you have written me two letters, and, although I
have not answered them, it is not because I have forgotten them, or
not been interested about them, but because it appeared to me I
could write nothing which could do any good. You already know that
I desire that neither father nor mother shall be in want of any
comfort, either in health or sickness, while they live; and I feel
sure you have not failed to use my name, if necessary, to procure a
doctor or anything else for father in his present sickness. My
business is such that I could hardly leave home now, if it were
not, as it is, that my own wife is sick-a-bed.
“I sincerely hope father may yet recover his health; but, at all
events, tell him to remember to call upon and confide in our great
and 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 loved
ones gone before, and where the rest of us, through the help of
God, hope ere long to join him.
“Write me again when you receive this.
“Affectionately,
“A. Lincoln.”
The money expended for his father and mother we may be sure that Mr.
Lincoln gave cheerfully, and I should have a very poor opinion of him if
it were otherwise; but he was also called upon to assist another member
of the family who was far less deserving. His step-brother, John
Johnston, was a rolling-stone, idle, shiftless, and always hard up. I am
going to quote here the greater part of a letter written to this
step-brother, because it contains some very practical advice, which most
of my young readers will not need, but it may fall under the eye of some
one who will be benefited by it. It appears that John had made
application for a loan of eighty dollars. Mr. Lincoln writes:
“Your request for eighty dollars I do not think it best to comply with
now. At the various times when I have helped you a little, you have said
to me, ‘We can get along very well now’; but in a very short time I find
you in the same difficulty again. Now this can only happen by some
defect in your conduct; what that defect is, I think I know. You are not
_lazy_, and still you are an _idler_. I doubt whether, since I saw you,
you have done a good whole day’s work in any one day. You do not very
much dislike to work, and still you do not work much, merely because it
does not seem to you that you could get much for it. This habit of
uselessly wasting time is the whole difficulty; and it is vastly
important to you, and still more so to your children, that you should
break the habit. It is more important to them because they have longer
to live, and can keep out of an idle habit before they are in it easier
than they can get out after they are in.
“You are now in need of some money; and what I propose is, that you
should go to work ‘tooth and nail’ for somebody who will give you money
for it. Let father and your boys take charge of things at home, prepare
for a crop, and make the crop, and you go to work for the best money,
wages, or in discharge of any debt you owe, that you can get; and, to
secure you a fair reward for your labor, I now promise you that, for
every dollar you will, between this and the first of next May, get for
your own labor, either in money or your own indebtedness, I will then
give you one other dollar. By this, if you hire yourself at ten dollars
a month, from me you will get ten more, making twenty dollars a month
for your work. In this I do not mean you shall go off to St. Louis, or
the lead mines, or the gold mines in California; but I mean for you to
go at it for the best wages you can get close to home, in Coles County.
Now, if you will do this, you will be soon out of debt, and, what is
better, you will have a habit that will keep you from getting into debt
again. But, if I should now clear you out of debt, next year you would
be just as deep in as ever. You say you would almost give your place in
heaven for seventy or eighty dollars. Then you value your place in
heaven very cheap; for I am sure you can, with the offer I make, get
the seventy or eighty dollars for four or five months’ work. You say, if
I will furnish you the money, you will deed me the land, and, if you
don’t pay me the money back, you will deliver possession. Nonsense! If
you can’t now live with the land, how will you then live without it? You
have always been kind to me, and I do not mean to be unkind to you. On
the contrary, if you will but follow my advice, you will find it worth
more than eighty times eighty dollars to you.”
This was certainly excellent advice, and the offer was a kind and
generous one. But it does not seem to have convinced the one who
received it, for we find him nursing plans of emigration. Shiftless
people are very apt to think they can earn a living away from home
better than at home. But the trouble is in themselves, not in their
surroundings. Abraham Lincoln finds it necessary, under date of November
4, 1851, to combat this fancy of his step-brother. I shall not apologize
for copying a second letter, and I hope all my young readers will
carefully read and consider it.
“When I came into Charleston day before yesterday, I learned that you
are anxious to sell the land where you live, and move to Missouri. I
have been thinking of this ever since, and can not but think such a
notion is utterly foolish. What can you do in Missouri better than here?
Is the land any richer? Can you there, any more than here, raise corn
and wheat and oats without work? Will anybody there, any more than here,
do your work for you? If you intend to go to work, there is no better
place than right where you are; if you do not intend to go to work you
can not get along anywhere.
“Squirming and crawling about from place to place can do no good. You
have raised no crop this year; and what you really want is to sell the
land, get the money, and spend it. Part with the land you have, and my
life upon it, you will never after own a spot big enough to bury you in.
Half you will get for the land you will spend in moving to Missouri, and
the other half you will eat and drink and wear out, and no foot of land
will be bought. Now, I feel it is my duty to have no hand in such a
piece of foolery. I feel that it is so even on your own account, and
particularly on mother’s account. The eastern forty acres I intend to
keep for mother while she lives; if you _will not cultivate it_, it will
rent for enough to support her; at least it will rent for something. Her
dower in the other two forties she can let you have, and no thanks to
me. Now, do not misunderstand this letter; I do not write it in any
unkindness--I write it, in order, if possible, to get you to _face_ the
truth, which truth is, you are destitute because you have idled away all
your time. Your thousand pretences for not getting along better are all
nonsense: they deceive nobody but yourself. _Go to work_ is the only
cure in your case.”
Nothing can be plainer, or more in accordance with common sense than
this advice. Though it was written for the benefit of one person only, I
feel that I am doing my young, and possibly some older, readers a
service in transferring it to my pages, and commending them to heed it.
In my own experience, which is by no means exceptional, I have known
many who have been willing to move anywhere, and make any change, for
the chance of earning a living more easily. About thirty years ago, a
great wave of emigration flowed toward the far Pacific, and men of all
callings and professions, including not a few college graduates, put on
the miner’s humble garb and delved for gold among the mountains and by
the river-courses of California. Some came back rich, but in many cases
had they been willing to work as hard and live as frugally at the East,
they would have fared as well. In this case, perhaps, it was as well to
remove where the incentives to work overcame their natural indolence,
and awakened their ambition.
In this country, fortunately, there are few places where an industrious
man can not get a living, if he is willing to accept such work as falls
in his way. This willingness often turns the scale, and converts
threatening ruin into prosperity and success. Some years since, I made
one of the passengers in a small steamer on Puget Sound. My attention
was drawn to a young man, apparently about twenty, who was accompanied
by his wife and two young children. They were emigrating from Indiana, I
believe. He was evidently an industrious man, and his brown face and
hands spoke of labor in the field, and under the summer sun. I entered
into conversation, and my new acquaintance told me with perfect
cheerfulness that when he arrived at Seattle, he would have just ten
dollars left, to keep himself and family till he could secure work.
“How should I feel,” I could not help asking myself, “if I were placed
in similar circumstances, though I had myself only to provide for?”
Yet the young man appeared quite undisturbed. He had faith in himself,
and in Providence, and borrowed no trouble. I have no doubt he found
something to do before his money gave out. He was not one of that
shiftless and restless class to whom it is very clear Mr. Lincoln’s
step-brother belonged. Such men thrive in a new country, and make a
living anywhere.