speech on the 22d of February, which I claim that Fanny and you shall
read as an act of charity to me; for I cannot learn that anybody else
has read it, or is likely to. Fortunately it is not very long, and I
shall deem it a sufficient compliance with my request if one of you
listens while the other reads it.
As to your Lockridge matter, it is only necessary to say that there
has been no court since you left, and that the next commences to-morrow
morning, during which I suppose we cannot fail to get a judgment.
I wish you would learn of Everett what he would take, over and above a
discharge for all the trouble we have been at, to take his business out
of our hands and give it to somebody else. It is impossible to collect
money on that or any other claim here now; and although you know I am
not a very petulant man, I declare I am almost out of patience with Mr.
Everett's importunity. It seems like he not only writes all the letters
he can himself, but gets everybody else in Louisville and vicinity to
be constantly writing to us about his claim. I have always said that
Mr. Everett is a very clever fellow, and I am very sorry he cannot be
obliged; but it does seem to me he ought to know we are interested to
collect his claim, and therefore would do it if we could.
I am neither joking nor in a pet when I say we would thank him to
transfer his business to some other, without any compensation for what
we have done, provided he will see the court cost paid, for which we are
security.
The sweet violet you inclosed came safely to hand, but it was so dry,
and mashed so flat, that it crumbled to dust at the first attempt
to handle it. The juice that mashed out of it stained a place in the
letter, which I mean to preserve and cherish for the sake of her who
procured it to be sent. My renewed good wishes to her in particular, and
generally to all such of your relations who know me.
As ever,
LINCOLN.
TO JOSHUA F. SPEED.
SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS, July 4, 1842.
DEAR SPEED:--Yours of the 16th June was received only a day or two
since. It was not mailed at Louisville till the 25th. You speak of the
great time that has elapsed since I wrote you. Let me explain that. Your
letter reached here a day or two after I started on the circuit. I
was gone five or six weeks, so that I got the letters only a few weeks
before Butler started to your country. I thought it scarcely worth while
to write you the news which he could and would tell you more in detail.
On his return he told me you would write me soon, and so I waited for
your letter. As to my having been displeased with your advice, surely
you know better than that. I know you do, and therefore will not labor
to convince you. True, that subject is painful to me; but it is not your
silence, or the silence of all the world, that can make me forget it. I
acknowledge the correctness of your advice too; but before I resolve
to do the one thing or the other, I must gain my confidence in my own
ability to keep my resolves when they are made. In that ability you know
I once prided myself as the only or chief gem of my character; that gem
I lost--how and where you know too well. I have not yet regained it; and
until I do, I cannot trust myself in any matter of much importance. I
believe now that had you understood my case at the time as well as I
understand yours afterward, by the aid you would have given me I should
have sailed through clear, but that does not now afford me sufficient
confidence to begin that or the like of that again.
You make a kind acknowledgment of your obligations to me for your
present happiness. I am 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 merit with me in the part I took in your difficulty; I was drawn to
it by a 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 anything 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.
A LETTER FROM THE LOST TOWNSHIPS
Article written by Lincoln for the Sangamon Journal in ridicule of James
Shields, who, as State Auditor, had declined to receive State Bank notes
in payment of taxes. The above letter purported to come from a poor
widow who, though supplied with State Bank paper, could not obtain a
receipt for her tax bill. This, and another subsequent letter by Mary
Todd, brought about the "Lincoln-Shields Duel."
LOST TOWNSHIPS
August 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 mout 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 the
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!" 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 anything 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
anything 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's 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 Whigs are always
hurrahing for."
"Now, don't swear so, Jeff," says I, "you know I belong to the meetin',
and swearin' hurts my feelings."
"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 anything 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,
James 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 end it?
Is there anything in 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 of 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 did n'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 everything 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 was n'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; everything 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 had n't been stacked yet, but wanted
stackin' pretty bad. And then they had tables all around 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 would n'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
substances, just like a lock of cat fur where cats had been fighting.
"He was paying his money to this one, and that one, and t' other one,
and sufferin' great loss because it was n'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. 'Oh, 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 some time, and bring me a gourd
of water; the child's been crying for a drink this livelong 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 saying
anything 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 these 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 fewer
airs while they are doing it. It ain't sensible to think that the same
men who get us in 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 ------.
INVITATION TO HENRY CLAY.
SPRINGFIELD, ILL., Aug 29, 1842.
HON. HENRY CLAY, Lexington, Ky.
DEAR SIR:--We hear you are to visit Indianapolis, Indiana, on the 5th Of
October next. If our information in this is correct we hope you will
not deny us the pleasure of seeing you in our State. We are aware of the
toil necessarily incident to a journey by one circumstanced as you are;
but once you have embarked, as you have already determined to do, the
toil would not be greatly augmented by extending the journey to our
capital. The season of the year will be most favorable for good roads,
and pleasant weather; and although we cannot but believe you would be
highly gratified with such a visit to the prairie-land, the pleasure it
would give us and thousands such as we is beyond all question. You have
never visited Illinois, or at least this portion of it; and should you
now yield to our request, we promise you such a reception as shall be
worthy of the man on whom are now turned the fondest hopes of a great
and suffering nation.
Please inform us at the earliest convenience whether we may expect you.
Very respectfully your obedient servants,
A. G. HENRY, A. T. BLEDSOE,
C. BIRCHALL, A. LINCOLN,
G. M. CABANNISS, ROB'T IRWIN,
P. A. SAUNDERS, J. M. ALLEN,
F. N. FRANCIS.
Executive Committee "Clay Club."
(Clay's answer, September 6, 1842, declines with thanks.)
CORRESPONDENCE ABOUT THE LINCOLN-SHIELDS DUEL.
TREMONT, September 17, 1842.
ABRA. 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 numbers 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 General Whitesides, 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 obedient servant, JAS. SHIELDS.
TO J. SHIELDS.
TREMONT, September 17, 1842
JAS. SHIELDS, ESQ.:--Your note of to-day was handed me by General
Whitesides. 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 consequences to which I suppose
you allude would be matter of as great regret to me as it possibly could
to you.
Respectfully,
A. LINCOLN.
TO A. LINCOLN FROM JAS. SHIELDS
TREMONT, September 17, 1842.
ABRA. LINCOLN, ESQ.:--In 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 instant, 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 allusions contained therein in relation to
my private character and standing. If you are not the author of any of
these articles, your denial will be sufficient. I will say further, it
is not my intention to menace, but to do myself justice.
Your obedient servant, JAS. SHIELDS.
MEMORANDUM OF INSTRUCTIONS TO E. H. MERRYMAN,
Lincoln's Second,
September 19, 1842.
In case Whitesides 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 Townships' letter which appeared in the Journal
of the 2d instant, 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 I would have forborne to write it.
And I will add that your conduct toward me, so far as I know, 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 arrange what shall
and what shall not be published. If nothing like this is done, the
preliminaries of the fight are to be--
First. Weapons: Cavalry broadswords of the largest size, precisely
equal in all respects, and such as now used by the cavalry company at
Jacksonville.
Second. 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.
Third. Time: On Thursday evening at five o'clock, if you can get it so;
but in no case to be at a greater distance of time than Friday evening
at five o'clock.
Fourth. 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.
TO JOSHUA F. SPEED.
SPRINGFIELD, October 4, 1842.