years while he was serving in the Legislature. John Calhoun, the County
Surveyor, from whom he received an appointment as deputy, was a man
of education and talent, and an ambitious Democratic politician who
afterwards played a prominent part in the Kansas conspiracy.
Judge Stephen T. Logan saw Lincoln for the first time in 1832. He
thus speaks of his future partner: "He was a very tall, gawky, and
rough-looking fellow then; his pantaloons didn't meet his shoes by
six inches. But after he began speaking I became very much interested
in him. He made a very sensible speech. His manner was very much the
same as in after-life; that is, the same peculiar characteristics
were apparent then, though of course in after-years he evinced more
knowledge and experience. But he had then the same novelty and the same
peculiarity in presenting his ideas. He had the same individuality that
he kept through all his life."
Like other famous men of strong character and intellectual force,
Lincoln was very sentimental, and had several love-affairs which caused
him quite as much anxiety and anguish as happiness. The scene of his
first romance was laid in Indiana when he was a barefooted boy, and was
afterwards related by him in these words:
"When I was a little codger, one day a wagon with a lady and two girls
and a man broke down near us, and while they were fixing up, they cooked
in our kitchen. The woman had books and read us stories, and they were
the first I had ever heard. I took a great fancy to one of the girls;
and when they were gone I thought of her a great deal, and one day, when
I was sitting out in the sun by the house, I wrote out a story in my
mind. I thought I took my father's horse and followed the wagon, and
finally I found it, and they were surprised to see me. I talked with the
girl and persuaded her to elope with me; and that night I put her on my
horse, and we started off across the prairie. After several hours we
came to a camp; and when we rode up we found it was the one we had left
a few hours before, and we went in. The next night we tried again, and
the same thing happened--the horse came back to the same place; and then
we concluded that we ought not to elope. I stayed until I had persuaded
her father to give her to me. I always meant to write that story out and
publish it, and I began once, but I concluded that it was not much of a
story. But I think that was the beginning of love with me."
David R. Locke, of Toledo (Petroleum V. Nasby), said, "I was in
Washington once more in 1864, when the great struggle was nearer its
close. My business was to secure a pardon for a young man from Ohio
who had deserted under rather peculiar circumstances. When he enlisted
he was under engagement to a young girl, and went to the front very
certain of her faithfulness. It is needless to say that the young girl,
being exceptionally pretty, had another lover. Taking advantage of the
absence of the favored lover, the discarded one renewed his suit with
great vehemence, and rumors reached the young man at the front that his
love had gone over to his enemy, and that he was in danger of losing her
entirely. He immediately applied for a furlough, which was refused him,
and, half mad and reckless of consequences, deserted. He married the
girl, but was immediately arrested as a deserter, tried, found guilty,
and sentenced to be shot. I stated the circumstances, giving the young
fellow a good character, and the President at once signed a pardon,
saying,--
"'I want to punish the young man; probably in less than a year he will
wish I had withheld the pardon. We can't tell, though. I suppose when I
was a young man I should have done the same fool thing.'"
Among his acquaintances at New Salem while he was clerk, postmaster, and
surveyor was a blue-eyed girl named Anne Rutledge, who, according to the
local traditions, was very beautiful and attractive. Her father, James
Rutledge, was one of the founders of the village and kept the tavern at
which Lincoln was a regular boarder. He came of a distinguished family
and was especially proud of the fact that his grandfather was one of
the signers of the Declaration of Independence. Before Lincoln met his
daughter she had become engaged to John McNeill, _alias_ McNamara, one
of the wealthiest and most prosperous of the young men in that part of
Illinois. After the announcement of their engagement, McNeill went East
to arrange certain business affairs before settling down permanently
in Illinois. At first he wrote frequently to his sweetheart, but the
intervals between letters grew longer and longer, and finally they
ceased altogether.
About this time young Lincoln appeared upon the scene, and, of course,
as there were no secrets among neighbors in those days, he was informed
of the story. The poor girl's sorrow awakened a sympathy which soon
ripened into love. He saw her constantly at her father's tavern, sat
by her side at breakfast, dinner, and supper, and usually spent his
evenings with her upon the tavern steps or wandering in the lanes of
the neighborhood. It was a long time before the girl would listen to
his suit; but, convinced that her former lover was either dead or had
deserted her, she finally yielded and promised to become Lincoln's wife.
As she desired to complete her education, she went to Jacksonville to
spend the winter in an academy while he went to Springfield to attend
the session of the Legislature and continue his law studies, it being
agreed that in the spring, when he had been admitted to the bar, they
should be married; but in the mean time the girl fell ill and died.
The neighbors said that her disease was a broken heart, but the doctors
called it brain fever. Lincoln's sorrow was so intense that his friends
feared suicide. It was at this time that the profound melancholy which
he is believed to have inherited from his mother was first developed.
He never fully recovered from his grief, and, even after he had been
elected President, told a friend, "I really loved that girl and often
think of her now, and I have loved the name of Rutledge to this day."
He finally recovered his spirits and continued his law studies,
politics, and surveying. He removed to Springfield two years later,
became a partner of one of the leading attorneys of the State, and
took quite an active part in the social affairs of the State capital.
Although careless of forms and indifferent to the conventionalities
of the day, he was recognized as a rising man, and his humor and
conversational powers made him a great favorite. His name appears
frequently in the reports of social events at that time; he was an
habitual speaker at public banquets and one of the managers of a
cotillion party given at the American House, December 16, 1839.
[Illustration:
COTILLION PARTY.
The pleasure of your Company is respectfully solicited at
a Cotillion Party, to be given at the "American House", on
to-morrow evening at 7 o'clock, P. M.
December 16th, 1839
M. H. RIDGELY,
J. A. M'CLENNAND,
R. ALLEN,
N. H. WASH,
F. W. TOLD,
G. A. DOUGLASS,
W. S. PRENTICE,
N. W. EDWARDS,
J. E. SPEED,
J. SHIELDS,
E. D. TAYLOR,
E. H. MERRYMAN,
N. E. WHITESIDE,
M. EASTHAM,
J. R. DILLER,
A. LINCOLN,
Managers.
Copyright, 1900, by McClure, Phillips & Co.
AN INVITATION TO A SPRINGFIELD COTILLION PARTY
By special permission, from the collection of C. F. Gunther,
Esq., Chicago
]
About a year after the death of Anne Rutledge he became involved
in a rather ludicrous complication with Miss Mary Owens. It was an
undignified and mortifying predicament, but the way he carried himself
showed his high sense of honor and obedience to his convictions of duty.
It began with a jest. The young lady had visited Springfield, where she
had received considerable attention, and Mrs. Able, her sister, before
starting for a visit to Kentucky, told Lincoln that she would bring her
sister back with her if he would agree to marry her. The bantering offer
was accepted, and a few months later he learned with consternation that
the young lady expected him to fulfil the agreement. Lincoln was
greatly distressed, but his sense of honor would not permit him to deny
his obligations. To Mrs. O. H. Browning, whose husband was afterwards
a United States Senator and a member of the Cabinet, he explained his
predicament, as follows: "I had told her sister that I would take her
for better or for worse, and I make a point of honor and conscience in
all things to stick to my word, especially if others had been induced to
act on it, which in this case I have no doubt they had, for I was now
fairly convinced that no other man on earth would have her, and hence
the conclusion they were bent on holding me to my bargain. At once I
determined to consider her my wife, and this done, all my powers of
discovery were put to work in search of perfections in her which might
be fairly set off against her defects."
She was several years his senior and not personally attractive, but he
assumed that she was an honorable woman with an affectionate regard
for him, and wrote her with the utmost candor, explaining his poverty
and the sacrifices that she would have to make in marrying him. "I am
afraid you would not be satisfied," he wrote; "you would have to be poor
without the means of hiding your poverty. Do you believe you could bear
that patiently? Whatever woman may cast her lot with mine, should any
ever do so, it is my intention to do all in my power to make her happy
and contented; and there is nothing I could imagine that would make me
more unhappy than to fail in the effort. I know I should be much happier
with you than the way I am, provided I saw no signs of discontent in
you. What you have said to me may have been in the way of a jest,
or I may have misunderstood it. If so, then let it be forgotten; if
otherwise, I much wish you would think seriously before you decide. What
I have said I will most positively abide by, provided you wish it. My
opinion is that you had better not do it. You have not been accustomed
to hardship, and it may be more severe than you now imagine. I know you
are capable of thinking correctly on any subject, and if you deliberate
maturely upon this before you decide, then I am willing to abide your
decision."
Miss Owens was evidently not pleased with the situation, and replied
with equal candor, telling Lincoln, among other unpleasant things,
that she never had any intention or desire to marry him, for he
was "deficient in those little links which go to make up a woman's
happiness." He rejoiced at his release, but her words stung, and he
wrote Mrs. Browning, "I was mortified in a hundred different ways. My
vanity was deeply wounded by the reflection that I had so long been too
stupid to discover her intentions, and at the same time never doubting
that I understood them perfectly; and also that she, whom I had taught
myself to believe nobody else would have, had actually rejected me with
all my fancied greatness. And, to cap the whole, I then for the first
time began to suspect that I was a little in love with her. But let it
go; I will try and outlive it. Others have been made fools of by girls,
but this can never with truth be said of me. I most emphatically, in
this instance, made a fool of myself. I have now come to the conclusion
never again to think of marrying, and for this reason, I never can be
satisfied with any one who would be blockhead enough to have me."
But it was not long before he was again involved in the chains of Cupid.
Miss Mary Todd, also of Kentucky, came to Springfield to visit her
sister, the wife of Ninian W. Edwards, one of Lincoln's colleagues in
the Legislature. She received much attention from the most prominent
young men in Springfield, including Stephen A. Douglas, James Shields,
and other of Lincoln's political associates and rivals; but it was
soon apparent that she preferred him, and against the protests of
Mr. and Mrs. Edwards, who were familiar with his hopeless pecuniary
circumstances, they became engaged.
The course of their love did not run smooth. Their tastes were
different. Miss Todd was absorbed in social pleasures and demanded
admiration and devotion. Lincoln was absorbed in his studies and
political affairs and was not so ardent a lover as she desired.
Misunderstandings and reproaches were frequent, and at last Lincoln
became so thoroughly convinced that they were unsuited to each other
that he asked to be released from the engagement. The young woman
consented with tears of anger and grief, and Lincoln, having discovered,
when it was too late, the depth of her love for him, accused himself of
a breach of honor so bitterly that it preyed upon his mind. He wrote
Joshua F. Speed, of Kentucky, who was the most intimate friend he had,
and whose brother was afterwards a member of his Cabinet, "I must regain
my confidence in my own ability to keep my resolves when they are made.
In that ability I once prided myself as the only or the chief gem of my
character. That gem I have 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."
Everybody in Springfield knew of the broken engagement and that it
was the cause of Mr. Lincoln's intense remorse and melancholy. He
did not deny or attempt to disguise it. He wrote Mr. Stuart, his law
partner, three weeks after the fatal first of January, "I am now the
most miserable man living. If what I feel were equally distributed to
the whole human family, there would not be one cheerful face on earth.
Whether I shall ever be better, I cannot tell; I awfully forebode that I
shall not. To remain as I am is impossible; I must die or get better."
To other of his intimates he spoke with equal freedom of the sense of
dishonor and despair that possessed him, and they persuaded him to
visit his friend Speed, who carried him off to Kentucky and kept him
for several months. The visit did much to brighten his spirits, and
his own distress was forgotten in his efforts to comfort Speed, who in
the meantime had become engaged, was afraid that he did not love his
sweetheart well enough to marry her, and confided his doubts to Lincoln.
In the mean time Miss Todd appears to have regained her self-possession
and calmly awaited the will of the fates who were to restore relations
with her sensitive and remorseful lover. The incident which finally
brought them together was a comedy of national interest.
Among the most conspicuous Democratic politicians in Illinois at that
time was James Shields, an impulsive Irishman of diminutive stature who
was afterwards a general in two wars and a member of the United States
Senate from two States. His ardent admiration for the ladies and his
personal eccentricities exposed him to ridicule, about which he was
very sensitive, and when he found himself the subject of a satirical
letter and doggerel poem in a Springfield newspaper he became enraged,
called upon the editor, and demanded the name of the author. The satires
happened to have been the joint composition of Miss Todd and Julia
Jayne, one of her girl friends, who afterwards became the wife of Lyman
Trumbull. In his dilemma the editor asked the advice of Mr. Lincoln, who
replied,--
"Tell Shields that I wrote them."
Whereupon he received a challenge which was promptly accepted. According
to the code, Lincoln, being the party challenged, was entitled to the
choice of weapons, and, as he did not believe in duelling, he tried to
compel Shields to withdraw his challenge by proposing the most absurd
conditions, which, however, Shields accepted without appearing to
perceive the purpose of his antagonist. Lincoln was a very tall man
with unusually long arms. Shields was very short,--so short that his
head did not reach to Lincoln's shoulder,--yet the conditions were that
they should go down to an island in the Mississippi River and fight
with broadswords across a plank set up on edge, and whichever of the
contestants retreated three feet back of the plank lost the battle.
The parties actually went across the country,--a journey of three days
on horseback,--the plank was set on edge, and the battle was about to
begin when mutual friends intervened and put an end to the nonsense. One
of the spectators described the scene in most graphic language; how the
two antagonists were seated on logs while their seconds arranged the
plank. "Lincoln's face was grave and serious," he said, "although he
must have been shaking with suppressed amusement. Presently he reached
over and picked up one of the swords, which he drew from its scabbard.
Then he felt along the edge of the weapon with his thumb like a barber
feels of the edge of his razor, raised himself to his full height,
stretched out his long arm, and clipped off a twig above his head
with the sword. There wasn't another man of us who could have reached
anywhere near that twig, and the absurdity of that long-reaching fellow
fighting with cavalry sabres with Shields, who could walk under his arm,
came pretty near making me howl with laughter. After Lincoln had cut off
the twig, he returned the sword solemnly to the scabbard and sat down
again on the log."
Upon the return of the duelling party to Springfield, several
conflicting explanations were made by friends, the supporters of Lincoln
making the affair as ridiculous as possible, while the defenders of
Shields endeavored to turn it to his credit. It was Lincoln's last
personal quarrel. Happily, more ink than blood was shed, but the
gossips of Springfield were furnished the most exciting topic of the
generation, and Miss Todd and Mr. Lincoln, who had been estranged for
nearly a year, were brought together with mutual gratification. On
November 4, 1842, they were married at the residence of Mr. Edwards, the
brother-in-law of the bride, and Mr. Lincoln's melancholy disappeared
or was dissipated by the sunshine of a happy home. He took his bride to
board at the Globe Tavern, where, he wrote his friend Speed, the charges
were four dollars a week for both, and returned to the practical routine
of his daily life with the patience, industry, and intelligence which
were his greatest characteristics. His partnership with Stuart lasted
four years until the latter was elected to Congress, when a new one was
formed with Judge Stephen T. Logan, who had studied Lincoln's character
and learned his ability while presiding upon the circuit bench.
[Illustration: MARY TODD LINCOLN, WIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
From a photograph by Brady in the War Department Collection]
Mr. Lincoln's talent was acknowledged by every one who knew him. He
was rapidly assuming leadership in politics and at the bar. Compared
with most of his neighbors and associates he was a man of learning,
and his wisdom and sense of justice made him an umpire and arbitrator
in all forms of contest from wrestling matches to dissensions among
husbands and wives. His gentle sympathy, sincerity, candor, and fearless
honesty were recognized and appreciated by the entire community. No
man in Springfield or in that part of the State where he was best
known ever questioned his word or his integrity of character. With the
encouragement of Judge Logan, he undertook a deeper and more serious
study of the law, and the eminence of his partner brought to the firm
much lucrative business which Lincoln was able to manage. His income
increased in a corresponding manner, and he was able to indulge his wife
and family in greater comforts and luxuries; but at the same time he
was very poor. His step-mother and step-brother were burdens upon him;
he was still struggling to pay what he called "the national debt" as
rapidly as possible, and laid aside every cent he could spare from his
household expenses for that purpose.
But he was never a money-maker. That talent was sadly lacking in him
as in other great men. While he was in New York to make his Cooper
Institute speech in the spring of 1860, he met an old acquaintance from
Illinois, whom he addressed with an inquiry as to how he had fared
since leaving the West. "I have made a hundred thousand dollars and
lost all," was his reply. Then, turning questioner, he said, "How is it
with you, Mr. Lincoln?" "Oh, very well," he said; "I have a cottage at
Springfield and about eight thousand dollars in money. If they make me
Vice-President with Seward, as some say they will, I hope I shall be
able to increase it to twenty thousand; and that is as much as any man
ought to want."
With the fee received from one of his earliest important cases he
purchased a modest frame house in an unfashionable part of Springfield,
which was afterwards enlarged, and was his only home. It was also the
only piece of property he ever owned, with the exception of two tracts
of wild land in Iowa which he received from Congress for his services in
the Black Hawk War. In that house he received the committee that came to
notify him of his nomination for the Presidency, and its members were
impressed with the simplicity of his life and surroundings. It was more
comfortable than commodious, and not unlike the residences of well-to-do
members of his profession throughout the country. He lived well, he was
hospitable to his friends, and Mrs. Lincoln took an active part in the
social affairs of the community.
One who often visited him, referring to "the old-fashioned hospitality
of Springfield," writes, "Among others I recall with a sad pleasure the
dinners and evening parties given by Mrs. Lincoln. In her modest and
simple home, where everything was so orderly and refined, there was
always on the part of both host and hostess a cordial and hearty Western
welcome which put every guest perfectly at ease. Their table was famed
for the excellence of many rare Kentucky dishes, and for venison, wild
turkeys, and other game, then so abundant. Yet it was her genial manner
and ever-kind welcome, and Mr. Lincoln's wit and humor, anecdote and
unrivalled conversation, which formed the chief attraction."
They had four children: Edward Baker, born March 10, 1846, who died in
infancy; William Wallace, born December 21, 1850, died in the White
House February 20, 1862; Thomas, born April 4, 1853, died in Chicago
July 15, 1871; and Robert Todd, the only survivor, born August 1,
1843, a graduate of Harvard University and a lawyer by profession.
He filled with distinction the office of Secretary of War during
the administrations of Presidents Garfield and Arthur, was minister
to England under President Harrison, and now resides in Chicago as
President of the Pullman Sleeping Car Company.
Mr. Lincoln was very fond of his children, and many anecdotes are
related of his adventures with them. He frequently took his boys about
with him, finding more satisfaction in their companionship than among
his old associates. He seldom went to his office in the morning without
carrying his youngest child down the street on his shoulder, while the
older ones clung to his hands or coat-tails. Every child in Springfield
knew and loved him, for his sympathy seemed to comprehend them all. It
has been said that there was no institution in Springfield in which
he did not take an active interest. He made a daily visit to a drug
store on the public square which was the rendezvous of politicians and
lawyers, and on Sunday morning was always to be found in his pew in the
First Presbyterian Church. He was one of the most modest yet the most
honored member of the community, and his affection for his neighbors
could have been no better expressed than in his few words of farewell
when he left Springfield for his inauguration at Washington: