By this time the Lincoln homestead was no longer on the frontier. During
the years that passed while Abraham was growing from a child, scarcely
able to wield the ax placed in his hands, into a tall, capable youth,
the line of frontier settlements had been gradually but steadily
pushing on beyond Gentryville toward the Mississippi River. Every summer
canvas-covered moving wagons wound their slow way over new roads into
still newer country; while the older settlers, left behind, watched
their progress with longing eyes. It was almost as if a spell had been
cast over these toil-worn pioneers, making them forget, at sight of such
new ventures, all the hardships they had themselves endured in subduing
the wilderness. At last, on March 1, 1830, when Abraham was just
twenty-one years old, the Lincolns, yielding to this overmastering
frontier impulse to "move" westward, left the old farm in Indiana to
make a new home in Illinois. "Their mode of conveyance was wagons drawn
by ox-teams," Mr. Lincoln wrote in 1860; "and Abraham drove one of the
teams." They settled in Macon County on the north side of the Sangamon
River, about ten miles west of Decatur, where they built a cabin, made
enough rails to fence ten acres of ground, fenced and cultivated the
ground, and raised a crop of corn upon it that first season. It was the
same heavy labor over again that they had endured when they went from
Kentucky to Indiana; but this time the strength and energy of young
Abraham were at hand to inspire and aid his father, and there was no
miserable shivering year of waiting in a half-faced camp before the
family could be suitably housed. They were not to escape hardship,
however. They fell victims to fever and ague, which they had not known
in Indiana, and became greatly discouraged; and the winter after their
arrival proved one of intense cold and suffering for the pioneers, being
known in the history of the State as "the winter of the deep snow."
The severe weather began in the Christmas holidays with a storm of such
fatal suddenness that people who were out of doors had difficulty in
reaching their homes, and not a few perished, their fate remaining
unknown until the melting snows of early spring showed where they had
fallen.
In March, 1831, at the end of this terrible winter, Abraham Lincoln
left his father's cabin to seek his own fortune in the world. It was the
frontier custom for young men to do this when they reached the age of
twenty-one. Abraham was now twenty-two, but had willingly remained
with his people an extra year to give them the benefit of his labor and
strength in making the new home.
He had become acquainted with a man named Offut, a trader and
speculator, who pretended to great business shrewdness, but whose chief
talent lay in boasting of the magnificent things he meant to do. Offut
engaged Abraham, with his stepmother's son, John D. Johnston, and John
Hanks, to take a flatboat from Beardstown, on the Illinois River, to
New Orleans; and all four arranged to meet at Springfield as soon as the
snow should melt.
In March, when the snow finally melted, the country was flooded and
traveling by land was utterly out of the question. The boys, therefore,
bought a large canoe, and in it floated down the Sangamon River to keep
their appointment with Offut. It was in this somewhat unusual way that
Lincoln made his first entry into the town whose name was afterward to
be linked with his own.
Offut was waiting for them, with the discouraging news that he had been
unable to get a flatboat at Beardstown. The young men promptly offered
to make the flatboat, since one was not to be bought; and they set to
work, felling the trees for it on the banks of the stream. Abraham's
father had been a carpenter, so the use of tools was no mystery to him;
and during his trip to New Orleans with Allen Gentry he had learned
enough about flatboats to give him confidence in this task of
shipbuilding. Neither Johnston nor Hanks was gifted with skill or
industry, and it is clear that Lincoln was, from the start, leader of
the party, master of construction, and captain of the craft.
The floods went down rapidly while the boat was building, and when
they tried to sail their new craft it stuck midway across the dam of
Rutledge's mill at New Salem, a village of fifteen or twenty houses not
many miles from their starting-point. With its bow high in air, and its
stern under water, it looked like some ungainly fish trying to fly, or
some bird making an unsuccessful attempt to swim. The voyagers appeared
to have suffered irreparable shipwreck at the very outset of their
venture, and men and women came down from their houses to offer advice
or to make fun of the young boatmen as they waded about in the water,
with trousers rolled very high, seeking a way out of their difficulty.
Lincoln's self-control and good humor proved equal to their banter,
while his engineering skill speedily won their admiration. The amusement
of the onlookers changed to gaping wonder when they saw him deliberately
bore a hole in the bottom of the boat near the bow, after which, fixing
up some kind of derrick, he tipped the boat so that the water she had
taken in at the stern ran out in front, and she floated safely over the
dam. This novel method of bailing a boat by boring a hole in her
bottom fully established his fame at New Salem, and so delighted the
enthusiastic Offut that, on the spot, he engaged its inventor to come
back after the voyage to New Orleans and act as clerk for him in a
store.
The hole plugged up again, and the boat's cargo reloaded, they made the
remainder of the journey in safety. Lincoln returned by steamer from New
Orleans to St. Louis, and from there made his way to New Salem on foot.
He expected to find Offut already established in the new store, but
neither he nor his goods had arrived. While "loafing about," as the
citizens of New Salem expressed it, waiting for him, the newcomer had a
chance to exhibit another of his accomplishments. An election was to
be held, but one of the clerks, being taken suddenly ill, could not be
present. Penmen were not plenty in the little town, and Mentor Graham,
the other election clerk, looking around in perplexity for some one
to fill the vacant place, asked young Lincoln if he knew how to write.
Lincoln answered, in the lazy speech of the country, that he "could
make a few rabbit tracks," and that being deemed quite sufficient, was
immediately sworn in, and set about discharging the duties of his first
office. The way he performed these not only gave general satisfaction,
but greatly interested Mentor Graham, who was the village schoolmaster,
and from that time on proved a most helpful friend to him.
Offut finally arrived with a miscellaneous lot of goods, which Lincoln
opened and put in order, and the storekeeping began. Trade does not seem
to have been brisk, for Offut soon increased his venture by renting the
Rutledge and Cameron mill, on whose historic dam the flatboat had come
to grief. For a while the care of this mill was added to Lincoln's other
duties. He made himself generally useful besides, his old implement, the
ax, not being entirely discarded. We are told that he cut down trees
and split rails enough to make a large hogpen adjoining the mill, a
performance not at all surprising when it is remembered that up to this
time the greater part of his life had been spent in the open air, and
that his still growing muscles must have eagerly welcomed tasks like
this, which gave him once more the exercise that measuring calico and
weighing out groceries failed to supply. Young Lincoln's bodily vigor
stood him in good stead in many ways. In frontier life strength and
athletic skill served as well for popular amusement as for prosaic
toil, and at times, indeed, they were needed for personal defence.
Every community had its champion wrestler, a man of considerable local
importance, in whose success the neighbors took a becoming interest.
There was, not far from New Salem, a settlement called Clary's Grove,
where lived a set of restless, rollicking young backwoodsmen with a
strong liking for frontier athletics and rough practical jokes. Jack
Armstrong was the leader of these, and until Lincoln's arrival had been
the champion wrestler of both Clary's Grove and New Salem. He and his
friends had not the slightest personal grudge against Lincoln; but
hearing the neighborhood talk about the newcomer, and especially Offut's
extravagant praise of his clerk, who, according to Offut's statement,
knew more than any one else in the United States, and could beat the
whole county at running, jumping or "wrastling," they decided that the
time had come to assert themselves, and strove to bring about a trial of
strength between Armstrong and Lincoln. Lincoln, who disapproved of all
this "woolling and pulling," as he called it, and had no desire to come
to blows with his neighbors, put off the encounter as long as possible.
At length even his good temper was powerless to avert it, and the
wrestling-match took place. Jack Armstrong soon found that he had
tackled a man as strong and skilful as himself; and his friends, seeing
him likely to get the worst of it, swarmed to his assistance, almost
succeeding, by tripping and kicking, in getting Lincoln down. At the
unfairness of this Lincoln became suddenly and furiously angry, put
forth his entire strength, lifted the pride of Clary's Grove in his arms
like a child, and holding him high in the air, almost choked the life
out of him. It seemed for a moment as though a general fight must
follow; but even while Lincoln's fierce rage compelled their respect,
his quickly returning self-control won their admiration, and the
crisis was safely passed. Instead of becoming enemies and leaders in a
neighborhood feud, as might have been expected, the two grew to be warm
friends, the affection thus strangely begun lasting through life. They
proved useful to each other in various ways, and years afterward Lincoln
made ample amends for his rough treatment of the other's throat by
saving the neck of Jack Armstrong's son from the halter in a memorable
trial for murder. The Clary's Grove "boys" voted Lincoln "the cleverest
fellow that had ever broke into the settlement," and thereafter took
as much pride in his peaceableness and book-learning as they did in
the rougher and more questionable accomplishments of their discomfited
leader.
Lincoln himself was not so easily satisfied. His mind as well as his
muscles hungered for work, and he confided to Mentor Graham, possibly
with some diffidence, his "notion to study English grammar." Instead of
laughing at him, Graham heartily encouraged the idea, saying it was the
very best thing he could do. With quickened zeal Lincoln announced that
if he had a grammar he would begin at once at this the schoolmaster
was obliged to confess that he knew of no such book in New Salem. He
thought, however, that there might be one at Vaner's, six miles away.
Promptly after breakfast the next morning Lincoln set out in search of
it. He brought the precious volume home in triumph, and with Graham's
occasional help found no difficulty in mastering its contents. Indeed,
it is very likely that he was astonished, and even a bit disappointed,
to find so little mystery in it. He is reported to have said that if
this was a "science," he thought he would like to begin on another one.
In the eyes of the townspeople, however, it was no small achievement,
and added greatly to his reputation as a scholar. There is no record
of any other study commenced at this time, but it is certain that he
profited much by helpful talks with Mentor Graham, and that he borrowed
every book the schoolmaster's scanty library was able to furnish.
Though outwardly uneventful, this period of his life was both happy
and profitable. He was busy at useful labor, was picking up scraps of
schooling, was making friends and learning to prize them at their true
worth; was, in short, developing rapidly from a youth into a young man.
Already he began to feel stirrings of ambition which prompted him to
look beyond his own daily needs toward the larger interests of
his county and his State. An election for members of the Illinois
legislature was to take place in August, 1832. Sangamon County
was entitled to four representatives. Residents of the county over
twenty-one years of age were eligible to election, and audacious as it
might appear, Lincoln determined to be a candidate.
The people of New Salem, like those of all other Western towns, took a
keen interest in politics; "politics" meaning, in that time and place,
not only who was to be President or governor, but concerning itself
with questions which came much closer home to dwellers on the frontier.
"Internal improvements," as they were called--the building of roads and
clearing out of streams so that men and women who lived in remote places
might be able to travel back and forth and carry on trade with the rest
of the world--became a burning question in Illinois. There was great
need of such improvements; and in this need young Lincoln saw his
opportunity.
It was by way of the Sangamon River that he entered politics. That
uncertain watercourse had already twice befriended him. He had floated
on it in flood-time from his father's cabin into Springfield. A
few weeks later its rapidly falling waters landed him on the dam at
Rutledge's mill, introducing him effectively if unceremoniously to the
inhabitants of New Salem. Now it was again to play a part in his life,
starting him on a political career that ended only in the White House.
Surely no insignificant stream has had a greater influence on the
history of a famous man. It was a winding and sluggish creek, encumbered
with driftwood and choked by sand-bars; but it flowed through a country
already filled with ambitious settlers, where the roads were atrociously
bad, becoming in rainy seasons wide seas of pasty black mud, and
remaining almost impassable for weeks at a time. After a devious course
the Sangamon found its way into the Illinois River, and that in turn
flowed into the Mississippi. Most of the settlers were too new to the
region to know what a shallow, unprofitable stream the Sangamon really
was, for the deep snows of 183031 and of the following winter had
supplied it with an unusual volume of water. It was natural, therefore,
that they should regard it as the heaven-sent solution of their problem
of travel and traffic with the outside world. If it could only be freed
from driftwood, and its channel straightened a little, they felt sure it
might be used for small steamboats during a large part of the year.
The candidates for the legislature that summer staked their chances of
success on the zeal they showed for "internal improvements." Lincoln
was only twenty-three. He had been in the county barely nine months.
Sangamon County was then considerably larger than the whole State of
Rhode Island, and he was of course familiar with only a small part of it
or its people; but he felt that he did know the river. He had sailed on
it and been shipwrecked by it; he had, moreover, been one of a party of
men and boys, armed with long-handled axes, who went out to chop away
obstructions and meet a small steamer that, a few weeks earlier, had
actually forced its way up from the Illinois River.
Following the usual custom, he announced his candidacy in the local
newspaper in a letter dated March 9, addressed "To the People of
Sangamon County." It was a straightforward, manly statement of his views
on questions of the day, written in as good English as that used by the
average college-bred man of his years. The larger part of it was
devoted to arguments for the improvement of the Sangamon River. Its main
interest for us lies in the frank avowal of his personal ambition that
is contained in the closing paragraph.
"Every man is said to have his peculiar ambition," he wrote. "Whether
it be true or not, I can say, for one, that I have no other so great as
that of being truly esteemed of my fellowmen by rendering myself worthy
of their esteem. How far I shall succeed in gratifying this ambition is
yet to be developed. I am young, and unknown to many of you. I was born,
and have ever remained, in the most humble walks of life. I have no
wealthy or popular relations or friends to recommend me. My case is
thrown exclusively upon the independent voters of the county; and if
elected, they will have conferred a favor upon me for which I shall be
unremitting in my labors to compensate. But if the good people in their
wisdom shall see fit to keep me in the background, I have been too
familiar with disappointments to be very much chagrined."
He soon had an opportunity of being useful to his fellow-men, though in
a way very different from the one he was seeking. About four weeks after
he had published his letter "To the People of Sangamon County," news
came that Black Hawk, the veteran war-chief of the Sac Indians, was
heading an expedition to cross the Mississippi River and occupy once
more the lands that had been the home of his people. There was great
excitement among the settlers in Northern Illinois, and the governor
called for six hundred volunteers to take part in a campaign against the
Indians. He met a quick response; and Lincoln, unmindful of what might
become of his campaign for the legislature if he went away, was among
the first to enlist. When his company met on the village green to choose
their officers, three-quarters of the men, to Lincoln's intense surprise
and pleasure, marched over to the spot where he was standing and grouped
themselves around him, signifying in this way their wish to make him
captain. We have his own word for it that no success of his after life
gave him nearly as much satisfaction. On April 21, two days after the
call for volunteers had been printed, the company was organized. A week
later it was mustered into service, becoming part of the Fourth Illinois
Mounted Volunteers, and started at once for the hostile frontier.
Lincoln's soldiering lasted about three months. He was in no battle, but
there was plenty of "roughing it," and occasionally real hardship,
as when the men were obliged to go for three days without food. The
volunteers had not enlisted for any definite length of time, and seeing
no prospect of fighting, they soon became clamorous to return home.
Accordingly his and other companies were mustered out of service on
May 27, at the mouth of Fox River. At the same time the governor, not
wishing to weaken his forces before the arrival of other soldiers to
take their places, called for volunteers to remain twenty days longer.
Lincoln had gone to the frontier to do real service, not for the glory
of being captain. Accordingly, on the day on which he was mustered out
as an officer he re-enlisted, becoming Private Lincoln in Captain Iles's
company of mounted volunteers, sometimes known as the Independent Spy
Battalion. This organization appears to have been very independent
indeed, not under the control of any regiment or brigade, but receiving
orders directly from the commander-in-chief, and having many unusual
privileges, such as freedom from all camp duties, and permission to
draw rations as much and as often as they pleased. After laying down
his official dignity and joining this band of privileged warriors, the
campaign became much more of a holiday for the tall volunteer from New
Salem. He entered with enthusiasm into all the games and athletic
sports with which the soldiers beguiled the tedium of camp, and grew in
popularity from beginning to end of his service. When, at length, the
Independent Spy Battalion was mustered out on June 16, 1832, he started
on the journey home with a merry group of his companions. He and his
messmate, George M. Harrison, had the misfortune to have their horses
stolen the very day before, but Harrison's record says:
"I laughed at our fate, and he joked at it, and we all started of
merrily. The generous men of our company walked and rode by turns with
us, and we fared about equal with the rest. But for this generosity, our
legs would have had to do the better work, for in that day this dreary
route furnished no horses to buy or to steal, and whether on horse or
afoot, we always had company, for many of the horses' backs were too
sore for riding."
Lincoln reached New Salem about the first of August, only ten days
before the election. He had lost nothing in popular esteem by his prompt
enlistment to defend the frontier, and his friends had been doing manful
service for him; but there were by this time thirteen candidates in
the field, with a consequent division of interest. When the votes
were counted, Lincoln was found to be eighth on the list--an excellent
showing when we remember that he was a newcomer in the county, and that
he ran as a Whig, which was the unpopular party. In his own home town of
New Salem only three votes had been cast against him. Flattering as all
this was, the fact remained that he was defeated, and the result of the
election brought him face to face with a very serious question. He was
without means and without employment. Offut had failed and had gone
away. What was he to do next? He thought of putting his strong muscles
to account by learning the blacksmith trade; thought also of trying
to become a lawyer, but feared he could not succeed at that without a
better education. It was the same problem that has confronted millions
of young Americans before and since. In his case there was no question
which he would rather be--the only question was what success he might
reasonably hope for if he tried to study law.
Before his mind was fully made up, chance served to postpone, and in the
end greatly to increase his difficulty. Offut's successors in business,
two brothers named Herndon, had become discouraged, and they offered to
sell out to Lincoln and an acquaintance of his named William F. Berry,
on credit, taking their promissory notes in payment. Lincoln and Berry
could not foresee that the town of New Salem had already lived through
its best days, and was destined to dwindle and grow smaller until it
almost disappeared from the face of the earth. Unduly hopeful, they
accepted the offer, and also bought out, on credit, two other merchants
who were anxious to sell. It is clear that the flattering vote Lincoln
had received at the recent election, and the confidence New Salem felt
in his personal character, alone made these transactions possible, since
not a dollar of actual money changed hands during all this shifting
of ownership. In the long run the people's faith in him was fully
justified; but meantime he suffered years of worry and harassing debt.
Berry proved a worthless partner; the business a sorry failure.
Seeing this, Lincoln and Berry sold out, again on credit, to the Trent
brothers, who soon broke up the store and ran away. Berry also departed
and died; and in the end all the notes came back upon Lincoln for
payment. Of course he had not the money to meet these obligations. He
did the next best thing: he promised to pay as soon as he could, and
remaining where he was, worked hard at whatever he found to do. Most
of his creditors, knowing him to be a man of his word, patiently bided
their time, until, in the course of long years, he paid, with interest,
every cent of what he used to call, in rueful satire upon his own folly,
his "National Debt."