A Turn in Affairs--The Black Hawk War--A Remarkable Military
Manoeuvre--Lincoln Protects an Indian--Lincoln and
Stuart--Lincoln's Military Record--Nominated for the
Legislature--Lincoln a Merchant--Postmaster at New Salem--Lincoln
Studies Law--Elected to the Legislature--Personal
Characteristics--Lincoln's Love for Anne Rutledge--Close of
Lincoln's Youth.
The spring of 1832 brought a new turn in Lincoln's career. The year had
been one of great advancement in many respects. He had made new and
valuable acquaintances, read many books, mastered the grammar of his own
tongue, won a multitude of friends. Those who could appreciate
intelligence and character respected him, and those whose highest ideas
of a man related to his physical prowess were devoted to him. Everyone
trusted him. He was judge, arbitrator, referee, authority in all
disputes, games, and matches whether of man-flesh or horse-flesh. He was
the peacemaker in all quarrels. He was everybody's friend--the
best-natured, most sensible, best-informed, most modest, unassuming,
kindest, gentlest, roughest, strongest, best young fellow in all New
Salem or the region about. But Mr. Offutt's trading enterprises ended
disastrously in the year 1832. The store was closed, the mill was shut
down, and Lincoln was out of business.
At the very moment, however, that he found himself adrift Illinois was
filled with excitement over the Black Hawk War. The centre of alarm was
in the Rock Valley, in the northern part of the State, which had been
formerly the home of the Sac tribe of Indians. Discontented with their
life on the reservation west of the Mississippi, to which they had been
removed, the Sacs, with several other tribes, resolved to recover their
old hunting-grounds. The warlike chief, Black Hawk, was at the head of
the revolt, and his march toward the Rock river was signalized by a
number of massacres. Governor Reynolds of Illinois issued a proclamation
calling for volunteers to aid the regular troops in the emergency.
Lincoln was one of the first to answer the call, the brave "Clary Grove
Boys" also coming promptly to the rescue. "The volunteers gathered,"
writes Mr. Arnold, "at Rushville, in Schuyler County, at which place
they were to be organized, and elected officers. Lincoln was a candidate
for the place of captain, and in opposition to him was one William
Kirkpatrick. The mode of election was novel. By agreement, each
candidate walked off to some distance and took position by himself. The
men were then to form, and those who voted for Kirkpatrick were to range
on a line with their candidate. When the lines were formed, Lincoln's
was three times as long as that of Kirkpatrick, and so Lincoln was
declared elected. Speaking of this affair when President, he said that
he was more gratified with this his first success than with any other
election of his life. Neither Lincoln nor his company was in any
engagement during the campaign, but there was plenty of hardships and
fatigue, and some incidents occurred to illustrate his courage and power
over men."
Many years afterward--in fact, while Lincoln was President--he referred
to those early scenes in a way that illustrates his wonderful memory and
his power of recalling the minutest incidents of his past life. Meeting
an old Illinois friend, he naturally fell to talking of Illinois, and
related several stories of his early life in that region. Particularly
he remembered his share in the Black Hawk War. He referred to his part
of the campaign lightly, and said that he saw but very little fighting.
But he remembered coming on a camp of white scouts one morning just as
the sun was rising. The Indians had surprised the camp and killed and
scalped every man. "I remember just how those men looked," said Lincoln,
"as we rode up the little hill where their camp was. The red light of
the morning sun was streaming upon them as they lay, heads toward us, on
the ground, and every man had a round red spot on the top of his head,
about as big as a dollar, where the redskins had taken his scalp. It was
frightful, but it was grotesque, and the red sunlight seemed to paint
everything all over." Lincoln paused as if recalling the vivid picture,
and added, somewhat irrelevantly, "I remember that one man had buckskin
breeches on."
Lincoln also told a good story of his first experience in drilling raw
troops during the Black Hawk War. He was crossing a field with a front
of twenty men when he came to a gate through which it was necessary to
pass. In describing the incident he said: "I could not, for the life of
me, remember the proper word of command for getting my company
_endwise_, so that it could pass through the gate. So, as we came near
the gate, I shouted, 'Halt! this company is dismissed for two minutes,
when it will fall in again on the other side of the gate.'" The
manoeuvre was successfully executed.
During this campaign an incident occurred which well serves to show
Lincoln's keen sense of justice, his great common sense, and his
resoluteness when aroused. One day there came to the camp an old Indian,
footsore and hungry. He was provided with a letter of safe-conduct from
General Cass; but there was a feeling of great irritation against the
Indians, and the men objected strongly to receiving him. They pronounced
him a spy and his passport a forgery, and were rushing upon the
defenseless Indian to kill him, when the tall figure of their captain,
Lincoln, suddenly appeared between them and their victim. His men had
never seen him so aroused, and they cowed before him. "Men," said he,
"this must not be done! He must not be killed by us!" His voice and
manner produced an effect on the mob. They paused, listened, fell back,
and sullenly obeyed him, although there were still some murmurs of
disappointed rage. At length one man, probably thinking he spoke for the
crowd, cried out: "This is cowardly on your part, Lincoln!" Lincoln only
gazed with contempt on the men who would have murdered one unarmed
Indian but who quailed before his single hand. "If any man thinks I am a
coward," said he, "let him test it." "Lincoln," was the reply, "you are
larger and heavier than any of us." "That you can guard against,"
responded the captain. "Choose your weapons!" The insubordination ended,
and the word "coward" was never associated with Lincoln's name again. He
afterward said that at this time he felt that his life and character
were both at stake, and would probably have been lost had he not at the
supreme moment forgotten the officer and asserted the man. His men could
hardly have been called soldiers. They were merely armed citizens, with
a military organization in name only. Had he ordered them under arrest
he would have created a serious mutiny; and to have them tried and
punished would have been impossible.
It was while Lincoln was a militia captain that he made the acquaintance
of a man who was destined to have an important influence on his life.
This was Major John T. Stuart, afterwards his law-partner. Stuart was
already a lawyer by profession. During the Black Hawk War he commanded
one of the Sangamon County companies, and was soon afterward elected
major of a spy battalion formed from some of these companies. He had the
best of opportunities at this time to observe the merits of Captain
Lincoln, and testifies that the latter was exceedingly popular among the
soldiers on account of his excellent care of the men in his command, his
never-failing good nature, and his ability to tell more stories and
better ones than any man in the service. He was popular also among these
hardy men on account of his great physical strength. For several years
after the Black Hawk War Lincoln retained his military title and was
usually addressed as "Captain Lincoln." But this in time was
discontinued. Stuart's title of "Major," on the contrary, adhered to him
through life. He was best known as "Major Stuart" down to the time of
his death, which occurred early in the winter of 1886.
The time for which Captain Lincoln's company enlisted soon ran by, but
the trouble with the Indians not being ended Governor Reynolds called
for a second body of volunteers. Lincoln again responded, and was
enrolled as a private in the independent company commanded by Elijah
Iles of Springfield. A note of this occurrence, made in 1868 by Captain
Iles, contains the following statement: "The term of Governor Reynolds's
first call being about to expire, he made a second call, and the first
levy was disbanded. I was elected a captain of one of the companies. We
were mustered into service on the 29th of May, 1832, at the mouth of Fox
river, now Ottawa, by Lieutenant Robert Anderson, Assistant Inspector
General in the United States Army."
One day during the Black Hawk War there were in the camp on Rock river
four men afterward famed in the history of the country. It was while
Lincoln was a member of the company under command of Captain Iles. These
men were Lieutenant Colonel Zachary Taylor, Lieutenant Jefferson Davis,
Lieutenant Robert Anderson, and Private Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln and
Anderson did not meet again until 1861, after the latter had evacuated
Fort Sumter. Major Anderson then visited Washington and called at the
White House to pay his respects to the President. After having expressed
his thanks to Anderson for his conduct in South Carolina, Lincoln said,
"Major, do you remember ever meeting me before?" "No, Mr. President, I
do not remember having had the pleasure before," said Anderson. "Well,"
said Lincoln, "my memory is better than yours. You mustered me into the
service of the United States in 1832 at Dixon's Ferry, during the Black
Hawk War."
Lincoln displayed the same courage and fidelity in performing the duties
of a soldier that had marked his conduct in all other relations of life.
Father Dixon, the guide who was attached to Captain Iles's company of
mounted rangers, remarks that in their marches when scouts were sent
forward to examine thickets and ravines in which it was thought the
enemy might be lurking it often became necessary for many of the men to
dismount and attend to their riding gear. Whenever Lincoln was detailed
for such service, however, his saddle was always in order.
During the contest between General Lewis Cass and General Zachary Taylor
for the Presidency, in the year 1848, Lincoln made a speech in Congress
in which he referred to his services in the Black Hawk War with
characteristic humor:
"By the way, Mr. Speaker," he said, "did you know that I am a military
hero? Yes, sir. In the days of the Black Hawk War I fought, bled, and
came away. Speaking of General Cass's career reminds me of my own. I was
not at Stillman's defeat, but I was about as near it as Cass was to
Hull's surrender, and, like him, I saw the place very soon afterwards.
It is quite certain that I did not break my sword, for I had none to
break. But I bent my musket pretty badly on one occasion. If Cass broke
his sword the idea is that he broke it in desperation. I bent my musket
by accident. If General Cass went ahead of me in picking whortleberries,
I guess I surpassed him in charges upon the wild onions. If he saw any
live fighting Indians, it is more than I did, but I had a good many
bloody struggles with the mosquitos, and although I never fainted from
loss of blood I can truly say that I was often very hungry. Mr. Speaker,
if I should ever conclude to doff whatever our Democratic friends may
suppose there is in me of black-cockade Federalism, and thereupon they
shall take me up as their candidate for the Presidency, I protest they
shall not make fun of me as they have of General Cass by attempting to
write me into a military hero."
Lincoln's popularity among his comrades in the field was so great that
at the close of his military service, which had lasted three months, he
was nominated as a candidate for the State Legislature. "His first
appearance on the stump in the course of the canvass was at Pappsville,
about eleven miles west of Springfield, upon the occasion of a public
sale. The sale over, speech-making was about to begin, when Lincoln
observed some strong symptoms of inattention in his audience which had
taken that particular moment to engage in a a general fight. Lincoln saw
that one of his friends was suffering more than he liked, and stepping
into the crowd he shouldered them sternly away from his man until he met
a fellow who refused to fall back. Him he seized by the nape of the neck
and the seat of his breeches, and tossed him 'ten or twelve feet
easily.' After this episode--as characteristic of him as of the
times--he mounted the platform and delivered with awkward modesty the
following speech: 'Gentlemen and Fellow-Citizens, I presume you all know
who I am. I am humble Abraham Lincoln. I have been solicited by my
friends to become a candidate for the Legislature. My politics are short
and sweet, like the old woman's dance. I am in favor of a national bank.
I am in favor of the internal-improvement system and a high protective
tariff. These are my sentiments and political principles. If elected I
shall be thankful. If not, it will be all the same.'"
Lincoln's friend, Mr. A.Y. Ellis, who was with him during a part of
this campaign, says: "He wore a mixed-jeans coat, claw-hammer style,
short in the sleeves and bobtail,--in fact, it was so short in the tail
that he could not sit down on it,--flax and tow linen pantaloons, and a
straw hat. I think he wore a vest, but I do not remember how it looked.
He wore pot-metal boots. I went with him on one of his electioneering
trips to Island Grove, and he made a speech which pleased his party
friends very well, although some of the Jackson men tried to make sport
of it. He told several good anecdotes in the speech, and applied them
very well, I thought."
The election took place in August, and although Lincoln was defeated he
received two hundred and seventy-seven out of the two hundred and
eighty-four votes cast in his precincts. He was so little known outside
of New Salem that the chances of election were hopelessly against him,
yet the extraordinary evidence of favor shown by the vote of his
fellow-townsmen was a flattering success in the midst of defeat. His
failure to be elected, however, left him once more without occupation.
He was without means, and felt the necessity of undertaking some
business that would provide him an income, however small. It seems that
at this time he considered seriously learning the blacksmith's trade,
but while entertaining the idea an event occurred which opened the way
in another direction. The particulars of this event are given by Mr.
W.G. Greene. "A man named Reuben Radford," says Mr. Greene, "was the
keeper of a small store in the village of New Salem. A friend told him
to look out for the 'Clary Grove boys' or they would smash him up. He
said he was not afraid. He was a great big fellow. But his friend said,
'They don't come alone. If one can't whip you, two or three can, and
they'll do it.' One day he left his store in charge of his brother, with
injunctions that if the 'Clary Grove boys' came he must not let them
have more than two drinks apiece. All the stores in those days kept
liquor to sell and had a corner for drinking. The store was nicely
fitted up, and had many things in glass jars nicely labelled. The 'Clary
Grove boys' came, and took two drinks each. The clerk refused them any
more as politely as he could. Then they went behind the counter and
helped themselves. They got roaring drunk and went to work smashing
everything in the store. The fragments on the floor were an inch deep.
They left and went off on their horses whooping and yelling. Coming
across some herds of cattle, they took the bells from their necks,
fastened them to the tails of the leaders, and chased them over the
country yelling like mad. Radford heard them, and, mounting his horse,
rode in hot haste to the store. I had been sent that morning with grist
to the mill, and had to pass the store. I saw Radford ride up, his horse
a lather of foam. He dismounted, and looked in upon the wreck through
the open door He was aghast at the sight, and said, 'I'll sell out this
thing to the first man that comes along.' I rode up and said, 'I'll give
you four hundred dollars for it.' 'Done!' said he. 'But,' I said, 'I
have no money. I must have time.' 'How much?' 'Six months.' 'Agreed.' He
drew up a note for four hundred dollars at six months, and I signed it.
I began to think I was stuck. Then the boys came in, and among them was
Lincoln. 'Cheer up, Billy,' he said. 'It's a good thing. We'll take an
inventory.' 'No more inventories for me,' said I, not knowing what he
meant. He explained that we should take an account of stock to see how
much was left. We found that it amounted to about twelve hundred
dollars. Lincoln and Berry consulted over it, and offered me two hundred
and fifty dollars for my bargain. I accepted, stipulating that they
should assume my notes. Berry was a wild fellow--a gambler. He had a
fine horse, with a splendid saddle and bridle. He turned over the horse
as part pay. Lincoln let Berry run the store, and it soon ran out. I
had to pay the note. Lincoln said he would pay it some day and did, with
interest." This ended Lincoln's brief career as a country merchant.
Many of the anecdotes in the foregoing pages touch upon Lincoln's
ambition to fit himself for a public speaker. Even at this early day the
settlers in New Salem were infected with the general desire to join in
the march toward intellectual improvement. To aid in this object, they
had established a club entitled the New Salem Literary Society. Before
this association, the studious Lincoln was invited to speak. Mr. R.B.
Rutledge, the brother of Anne Rutledge, says of the event: "About the
year 1832 or 1833, Mr. Lincoln made his first effort at public speaking.
A debating club, of which James Rutledge was president, was organized
and held regular meetings. As Lincoln arose to speak, his tall form
towered above the little assembly. Both hands were thrust down deep in
the pockets of his pantaloons. A perceptible smile at once lit up the
faces of the audience, for all anticipated the relation of some humorous
story. But he opened up the discussion in splendid style, to the
infinite astonishment of his friends. As he warmed with his subject, his
hands would forsake his pockets and enforce his ideas by awkward
gestures, but would very soon seek their easy resting-places. He pursued
the question with reason and argument so pithy and forcible that all
were amazed. The president, after the meeting, remarked to his wife that
there was more in Abe's head than wit and fun; that he was already a
fine speaker; that all he lacked was culture to enable him to reach the
high destiny which he knew was in store for him."
On the 7th of May, 1833, Lincoln was appointed postmaster at New Salem
by President Jackson. The duties of the position were light, there being
only a weekly mail, and the remuneration was correspondingly small.
"The office was too insignificant to be considered politically, and it
was given to the young man because everybody liked him, and because he
was the only man willing to take it who could make out the returns. He
was exceedingly pleased with the appointment, because it gave him a
chance to read every newspaper that was taken in the vicinity. He had
never been able to get half the newspapers he wanted, and the office
gave him the prospect of a constant feast. Not wishing to be tied to the
office, as it yielded him no revenue that would reward him for the
confinement, he made a post-office of his hat. Whenever he went out, the
letters were placed in his hat. When an anxious looker for a letter met
the postmaster he found also the post-office, and the public official,
taking off his hat, looked over and delivered the mail wherever the
public might find him. He kept the office until it was discontinued, or
was removed to Petersburg."
A small balance due the government remained in the hands of Lincoln at
the discontinuance of the office. Time passed on, and he had removed to
Springfield and was practicing law, having his place of business in Dr.
Henry's office. Meanwhile his struggle with poverty was unabated, and he
had often been obliged to borrow money from his friends to purchase the
barest necessities. It was at this juncture that the agent of the United
States called for a settlement of his post-office accounts. The
interview took place in the presence of Dr. Henry who thus describes it:
"I did not believe he had the money on hand to meet the draft, and I was
about to call him aside and loan him the money, when he asked the agent
to be seated a moment. He went over to his trunk at his boarding-house
and returned with an old blue sock with a quantity of silver and copper
coin tied up in it. Untying the sock, he poured the contents on the
table and proceeded to count the coin, which consisted of such silver
and copper pieces as the country people were then in the habit of using
in paying postage. On counting it up, there was found the exact amount
of the draft to a cent, and in the identical coin which had been
received. He never, under any circumstances, used trust funds."
When Lincoln was about twenty-three years of age, some time in 1832, he
began studying law, using an old copy of Blackstone's Commentaries which
he had bought at auction in Springfield. This work was soon mastered,
and then the young man looked about him for more. His friend of the
Black Hawk War, Major John T. Stuart, had a considerable law library for
those days, and to him Lincoln applied in his extremity. The library was
placed at his disposal, and thenceforth he was engrossed in the
acquisition of its contents. But the books were in Springfield, where
their owner resided; and New Salem was some fourteen miles distant. This
proved no obstacle in the way of Lincoln, who made nothing of the walk
back and forth in the pursuit of his purpose. Mr. Stuart's partner, Mr.
H.C. Dummer, who took note of the youth in his frequent visits to the
office, describes him as "an uncouth looking lad, who did not say much,
but what he did say he said straight and sharp." "He used to read law,"
says Henry McHenry, "barefooted, seated in the shade of a tree just
opposite Berry's grocery, and would grind around with the shade,
occasionally varying his attitude by lying flat on his back and putting
his feet up the tree," a situation which might have been unfavorable to
mental application in the case of a man with shorter extremities. "The
first time I ever saw Abe with a law-book in his hand," says Squire
Godbey, "he was sitting astride Jake Bates's woodpile in New Salem. Says
I, 'Abe, what are you studying?' 'Law,' says Abe. 'Good God Almighty!'
responded I." It was too much for Godbey; he could not suppress the
exclamation of surprise at seeing such a figure acquiring learning in
such an odd situation. Mr. Arnold states that Lincoln made a practice
of reading in his walks between Springfield and New Salem; and so
intense was his application and so absorbed was he in his study that he
would pass his best friends without observing them, and some people said
that Lincoln was going crazy with hard study.
He soon began to make a practical application of his legal knowledge. He
bought an old form-book and began to draw up contracts, deeds, leases,
mortgages, and all sorts of legal instruments for his neighbors. He also
began to exercise his forensic ability in trying small cases before
justices of the peace and juries, and soon acquired a local reputation
as a speaker, which gave him considerable practice. But he was able in
this way to earn scarcely money enough for his maintenance. To add to
his means, he took up the study of surveying, and soon became, like
Washington, a skilful and accurate surveyor. John Calhoun, an
intelligent and courteous gentleman, was at that time surveyor of the
county of Sangamon. He became interested in Lincoln and appointed him
his deputy. His work was so accurate and the settlers had such
confidence in him that he was much sought after to survey, fix, and mark
the boundaries of farms, and to plot and lay off the town of Petersburg.
His accuracy must have been attained with some difficulty, for when he
began to survey his chain was a grape-vine. He did not speculate in the
land he surveyed. Had he done so the rapid advance in the value of real
estate would have made it easy for him to make good investments. But he
was not in the least like one of his own appointees when President,--a
surveyor-general of a Western territory, who bought up much of the best
land, and to whom the President said, "I am told, sir, you are _monarch
of all you survey_."
The nomination of Lincoln for the State Legislature on his return from
the Black Hawk War was premature. The people of New Salem voted for him
almost to a man, but his acquaintance had not then extended into the
surrounding district far enough to insure his election. In the campaign
of 1834 the choice of a candidate again fell upon him, and this time
there was a prospect of success. Lincoln entered into the contest with
earnestness, and used every legitimate means to secure a victory. Mr.
Herndon relates the following incident of this campaign: "Lincoln came
to my house, near Island Grove, during harvest. There were some thirty
men in the field. He had his dinner, and then went out into the field
where the men were at work. I introduced him, and the boys said they
would not vote for a man unless he could 'make a hand.' 'Well, boys,' he
said, 'if that is all that is needed I am sure of your votes.' He took
hold of the cradle and led the way all around with perfect ease. The
boys were satisfied. I don't think he lost a vote in that crowd. The
next day there was speaking at Berlin. He went from my house with Dr.
Barnett, who had asked me who this man Lincoln was. I told him he was a
candidate for the Legislature. He laughed and said, 'Can't the party
raise better material than that?' I said, 'Go to-morrow and hear him
before you pass judgment.' When he came back I said, 'Doctor, what have
you to say now?' 'Why, sir,' he said, 'he is a perfect _take-in_. He
knows more than all the rest of them put together.'"
The result of the election was that Lincoln was chosen to represent the
Sangamon district. When the Legislature convened at the opening session,
he was in his place in the lower house; but he bore himself quietly in
his new position. He had much to learn in his novel situation as one of
the lawmakers of the State, and as a co-worker with an assembly
comprising the most talented and prominent men gathered from all parts
of Illinois. He was keenly watchful of the proceedings of the House,
weighing every measure with scrutinizing sagacity, but except in the
announcement of his vote his voice was seldom heard. At the previous
session, Mr. G.S. Hubbard, afterwards a well-known citizen of Chicago,
had exerted himself to procure the passage of an act for the
construction of the Illinois and Michigan Canal. His effort was
defeated; but he continued, as a lobbyist, to push the measure during
several winters, until it was finally adopted. Lincoln lent him
efficient aid in the accomplishment of his object. "Indeed," remarks Mr.
Hubbard, "I very much doubt if the bill could have passed as easily as
it did without his valuable help." "We were thrown much together,"
continues Mr. Hubbard, "our intimacy increasing. I never had a friend to
whom I was more warmly attached. His character was almost faultless;
possessing a warm and generous heart, genial, affable, honest, courteous
to his opponents, persevering, industrious in research, never losing
sight of the principal point under discussion, aptly illustrating by his
stories which were always brought into good effect. He was free from
political trickery or denunciation of the personal character of his
opponents. In debate he was firm and collected. 'With malice toward
none, with charity for all,' he won the confidence of the public, even
his political opponents."
Of all the stories of Lincoln's boyhood and youth, the most profoundly
touching is that of his love for Anne Rutledge. The existence of this
romance was brief, but it is believed by many that it was the memory of
it which threw over Lincoln that indescribable melancholy which seemed
to shadow his whole life. The Rutledges from whom Anne was descended
were an eminent family of the Carolinas. She was about nineteen years
old when Lincoln knew her first. It was shortly after the Black Hawk
War. She was a winsome girl, with fair hair and blue eyes, and Lincoln's
heart was captivated by her sweet face and gentle manners. So attractive
a girl was not, of course, without suitors, and Anne had been wooed by
one James McNeill, a young man who had come to New Salem soon after the
founding of the town. He had been more than ordinarily successful, and
had bought a large farm a few miles north of the village. He was
unmarried--at least he so represented himself--and paid devoted
attention to Anne. They were engaged, although both had acquiesced in
the wishes of Anne's parents that they should not be married until she
was older.
About this time Lincoln appeared in New Salem and went to board at the
Rutledge tavern. Here he saw Anne, and was much in her company. During
the next year McNeill became restless and discontented. He said it was
because he wanted to see his people. So he decided to go East on a
visit. He sold out his interests in New Salem--an act not at all
necessary if he were going only on a visit, and which in the light of
after events had much significance--telling Anne that it was his hope to
bring his father and mother back with him and establish them upon his
farm. "This done," he said, "we will be married." He then set out on his
journey.
It was late in the summer before Anne heard from him. He explained that
he had been taken ill with chills and fever on the way, and had been
long delayed in getting home. But the long wait had been a great strain
upon Anne. Lincoln, meanwhile, had become the postmaster in New Salem,
and it was to him that Anne came to inquire for letters. He watched her
anxiety with sympathy, and in a way became her confidant. His tender
heart, which never could resist suffering, was deeply touched at sight
of her distress. Finally McNeill's letters ceased altogether; and then
Anne confided to Lincoln something which McNeill had told her before he
left, and which until now she had kept secret,--namely, that his name
was not McNeill but McNamar. He had explained to her that he had made
this change because his father had failed in business and that as his
oldest son it was his duty to retrieve the family fortunes. So he had
changed his name, and come West, hoping to return in a few years to his
family a rich man. All this Anne had believed, and had not repeated
until now.
All New Salem joined in declaring McNamar an impostor and his story a
fabrication. "Who knew how many wives he had?" they said. With one
accord Anne's friends denounced him; and although his story turned out
afterward to be not altogether false, it is small wonder that Anne
herself at last came to believe that either he was dead or had ceased to
love her.
While matters were in this state, Lincoln ventured to show his love for
Anne. It was a long time before she would listen; but, convinced at last
that her former lover had deserted her, she promised, in the spring of
1835, to become his wife. But Lincoln had nothing on which to support a
family,--in fact, could hardly support himself. Besides, Anne was
anxious to go to school another year. So it was decided that she should
spend the winter in an academy in Jacksonville, while Lincoln devoted
himself to the study of the law. Then, when she should return from
school, he would be a member of the bar and they could be married.
A happy spring and summer followed. All their friends took an interest
in the lovers, and their prospects seemed bright. But Anne's health
began to fail. She could not rid herself of her haunting memories. There
was a possibility that she had wronged McNamar. What if he should love
her still, and should return and find her wedded to another? Had she
wronged both men? In her thoughts was perpetual conflict. The old love
still persisted. Her conscience troubled her. She doubted, and was
morbidly melancholy. All this wore upon her; she fell ill. At last her
condition became grave, then hopeless. Lincoln was sent for. Anne's last
hour was passed alone with him. She died at sunset, August 25, 1835. An
old neighbor who saw Lincoln just after his parting with the dying girl
says: "There were signs of the most terrible distress in his face. His
grief became frantic. He lost all self-control, even the consciousness
of his own identity; and his closest friends in New Salem pronounced him
insane, crazy, mad. They watched him with especial vigilance on dark and
stormy days. At such times he raved piteously, often saying, 'I can
never be reconciled to having the snow fall and the rain beat upon her
grave.'" His old friend, Bowlin Greene, alone seemed possessed of the
power to quiet him. He took him to his own home and kept him for several
weeks, an object of undisguised solicitude. At last it seemed safe to
permit him to return to his old haunts. Greene urged him to go back to
the law; and he did so, but he was never the same man again. He was
thin, haggard, and careworn. He was as one who had been at the brink of
the grave. A long time afterward, when the grass had for nearly thirty
years grown over the grave of Anne Rutledge, Lincoln was one day
introduced to a man named Rutledge in the White House. He looked at him
a moment, then grasped his hand and said with deep feeling: "I love the
name of Rutledge to this day. Anne was a lovely girl. She was natural,
well-educated. She would have made a good, loving wife. I did honestly
and truly love her, and I think often, often of her now." Mr. Herndon
has said that the love and the death of this young girl shattered
Lincoln's purposes and tendencies. "He threw off his infinite sorrow
only by leaping wildly into the political arena. He needed whip and spur
to save him from despair."
The period of Abraham Lincoln's boyhood and youth had closed when he
stood by the grave of Anne Rutledge. He had long been a man in stature.
He was now a man in years; yet the rough path he had been forced to
travel had made his progress toward maturity painfully slow. In spite
of his low birth, of his dire poverty, of the rudeness and illiteracy of
his associates, of the absence of refinement in his surroundings, of his
scanty means of education, of his homely figure and awkward manners, of
his coarse fare and shabby dress, he dared to believe there was an
exalted career in store for him. He hewed out the foundations for it
with indomitable spirit. It was to be grounded on manly virtues. It
seems as though the boy felt the consecration of a high destiny from the
very dawn of his intelligence, and it set him apart, secure amid the
temptations and safe from the vices that corrupt many men. In the rough
garb of the backwoodsman he preserved the instincts of a gentleman. He
was the companion of bullies and boors. He shared their work and their
sports, but he never stooped to their vulgarity. He very seldom drank
with them, and they never heard him speak an oath. He could throw the
stoutest in a wrestling match, and was ready, when brought to it, to
whip any insolent braggart who made cruel use of his strength. He never
flinched from hardship or danger, yet his heart was as soft and tender
as a woman's. The great gentle giant had a feeling of sympathy for every
living creature. He was not ashamed to rock a cradle, or to carry a pail
of water or an armful of wood to spare a tired woman's arms. Though
destitute of worldly goods, he was rich in friends. All the people of
his acquaintance knew they could count on his doing the right thing
always, so far as he was able. Hence they trusted and loved him; and the
title of "Honest Abe," which he bore through life, was a seal of
knighthood rarer and prouder than any king or queen could confer with
the sword. Abraham Lincoln was one of nature's noblemen. He showed
himself a hero in every circumstance of his boyhood and youth. The
elements of greatness were visible even then. The boy who was true to
duty, patient in privation, modest in merit, kind to every form of
distress, determined to rise by wresting opportunities from the
grudging hand of fate, was sure to make a man distinguished among his
fellows,--a man noted among the great men of the world, as the boy had
been among his neighbors in the wilds of Spencer County and New Salem.
The site of the town where Lincoln spent the last three years of the
period covered in this portion of his biography is now a desolate waste.
A gentleman who visited the spot during the summer of 1885 thus
describes the mournful scene: "From the hill where I sit, under the
shade of three trees whose branches make one, I look out over the
Sangamon river and its banks covered apparently with primeval forests.
Around are fields overgrown with weeds and stunted oaks. It was a town
of ten or twelve years only. It began in 1824 and ended in 1836. Yet in
that time it had a history which the world will not let die as long as
it venerates the memory of the noble liberator and martyr President,
Abraham Lincoln."