“I do remember,” Lincoln seemed pleased. “You are a native of Haiti. You had lived in Baltimore and then in New Orleans”—the incident was coming back now. “But you found living difficult for a free Negro, so you moved to St. Louis.”
William de Fleurville snipped diligently, proud that this important man recalled him.
“You have it right, Mr. Lincoln. You took me to the inn where you were boarding. You put me up, and you mentioned my trade to your friends. Before the evening ended I had clipped a dozen heads, and when I left the next morning I had a comfortable jingle of change in my pockets. Your kindness helped me to decide on settling here, and Illinois has proved to be a good place for me. I like the people. I’ve had this shop for five years. I hear you are an attorney now; I wonder if you would write up a deed for me, Mr. Lincoln?”
“A deed?” Again Lincoln was surprised; he had not heard of a black man buying property.
“Yes, sir. I have saved some money, and I plan to buy town lots. I would count it as a favor if you will do my legal business.”
“I’ll be glad to,” Lincoln assured him.
Other men dropped in. Lincoln saw that the place was popular. The prices were reasonable; Lincoln decided to come often.
Back in the new office he went at the legal work. Stuart turned over everything he could to his new partner because he meant to put more of his own time into politics. He planned to run for the United States Congress the next year, and he was determined to defeat the Democrat—Stephen A. Douglas. A new lawyer could not ask for a better opportunity than Lincoln had in that office.
The law part of the business was easy for Lincoln, but he hated the bookkeeping. Because Stuart was often away, there must be some keeping of records. Lincoln was ever quick with an idea to save work. Now, when a client paid a fee, Lincoln put one half of the money into an envelope on which he marked the client’s name and the total fee. The other half of the money he put into his own pocket.
When Stuart returned Lincoln reported on the court work and then added, “And here’s your money, John.”
“Money?” Stuart stared at the envelopes Lincoln handed him. Lincoln explained, and they had a good laugh as Stuart pocketed his share.
During that first spring and summer in Springfield, Lincoln corresponded with Mary Owens, but their “romance” made no progress. She didn’t say “yes” or “no” for the very good reason that he did not ask the important question. At last he decided to propose—and Mary promptly said “no.” Her promptness was disconcerting after all his worry, but at least the vexing business was now settled. And there was much to interest him in Springfield.
The Young Men’s Lyceum was a popular debating society, and Lincoln was invited to join. He wrote letters and articles for the Springfield newspapers and sometimes amused himself by signing a fanciful name. His style of writing was clear, and he wrote straightforwardly or in a tone of satire, as he chose. If he had not happened to be more interested in law and politics, he might easily have won fame as a writer.
But the stirring times made politics fascinating. He decided to run again for the State Legislature. When he went out to campaign, he discovered that his previous record and his newspaper writing had made his name known and he had a big audience.
This year both parties held campaign meetings. One of the Democratic speakers was the elegant Colonel Taylor who talked about “horny hands of toil” and made slurring remarks about “aristocratic Whigs.”
“I’ll take the wind out of that fellow’s sails,” Lincoln said in annoyance. He edged near to the colonel and deftly jerked his waistcoat.
The garment burst open, displaying a fancy ruffled shirt and a glittering watch chain that dripped with jewels and golden seals. The audience roared as Taylor nervously hunted buttons. Lincoln’s turn for speaking came a few minutes later.
“While Colonel Taylor was making these charges against the Whigs over the country, riding in fine carriages, wearing ruffled shirts, kid gloves, and massive watch chains with large gold seals, and flourishing a heavy gold-headed cane, I was a poor boy, hired on a flatboat at eight dollars a month, and had only one pair of breeches to my back, and they were buckskin. Now, if you know the nature of buckskin when wet and dried by the sun, it will shrink; and my breeches kept shrinking until they left several inches of my legs bare between the tops of my socks and the lower part of my breeches. And whilst I was growing taller, they were becoming shorter and so much tighter that they left a blue streak around my legs that can be seen to this day. If you call that aristocracy, I plead guilty to the charge.” The crowd enjoyed that!
Another campaign meeting was held in the courtroom just below the Stuart & Lincoln law office. The speaker said some bitter things, and the editor of a Springfield newspaper was angered.
“Pull him down!” the editor yelled and pushed his way forward.
At that instant the amazed audience saw a pair of long legs appear from the ceiling. A second later Lincoln’s tall figure landed plunk from the trap door onto the platform. He motioned for silence, but the uproar increased. He edged to the speaker’s table, grabbed a heavy water pitcher, and waved it threateningly.
“Hold on, gentlemen!” he shouted, and his high, penetrating voice quieted them. “This is a land of free speech, and Mr. Baker has a right to be heard. I am here to protect him, and no man shall take him from this stand if I can prevent it.”
The audience was shocked to silence, and Baker finished his talk. The right of free speech had been granted by the Constitution, as Mr. Lincoln reminded that audience, but people had had little training in listening to the “other side.” When a speaker spoke unpopular words, he was hissed and booed—and often stoned. Abraham Lincoln was one of the first public men who taught people to listen to both sides of a question.
That summer of 1838 Lincoln was re-elected to the State Legislature, and his leadership of his party strengthened. He barely missed being chosen speaker of the house, although the state was strongly Democratic.
He was elected again in 1840 and took his seat in the handsome new State House in Springfield. Fellow townsmen spoke of him with pride and predicted a bright future.
• CHAPTER TWELVE •
CONGRESSMAN LINCOLN
John Stuart was elected to Congress at that same time and Lincoln was proud, though he regretted that it would take his partner away from Springfield much of each year. Lincoln modestly doubted that he could manage alone; so the two friends decided to end the partnership in April of 1841.
Soon after that, Lincoln formed a new partnership with Stephen T. Logan. Lincoln knew Logan well; knew that he was exacting, strict about manners, a dour Scot, and orderly to a fault.
Abraham Lincoln while campaigning for the U.S. Senate, taken in Chicago, Illinois.
But Logan knew law. For three years Lincoln kept records, copied briefs perfectly, made the room orderly, and sat upright with his feet on the floor. He did not pretend to like this training; but he liked to learn what the training taught him.
Outside of the office Lincoln enjoyed himself. The capital city was very gay. Since travel was tedious and expensive, legislators stayed in Springfield through the whole session; they brought with them their wives and pretty daughters. Belles in Virginia and Kentucky wangled invitations and arrived with their loveliest frocks, sure of many beaux.
Among the visitors was Mary Todd, daughter of a Kentucky gentleman and sister of a popular Springfield hostess, Mrs. Ninian W. Edwards. Abraham Lincoln was attracted to the visitor. Mary Todd was small and vivacious, with snapping dark eyes and a gay manner. In her charming dress of white net tied with a black velvet sash and neckband, she was the center of an admiring group at her sister’s party. Mary Todd had a ready wit and a keen mind—as well as bright eyes and a pretty smile. A dozen young men sought her company and persuaded her to stay for a long visit.
Lincoln courted her diligently, and Mary Todd seemed to like him—indeed, why not? He was mentioned as a distin
guished politician, a successful lawyer, and a man sure to succeed. She saw for herself that he was friendly, witty, and admired. In the summer of 1840 they were engaged. But soon after Christmas their engagement was broken. Mary Todd held her head high and did not explain. Lincoln was so depressed he could hardly work. Joshua Speed, who was selling his store to go back to Kentucky, decided something should be done for his friend.
“You must go to my old home, Abe,” he announced firmly. “Mother will make you well.”
So Lincoln went to Farmington, the beautiful Speed home stead near Louisville. Mrs. Speed fed him and mothered him. Joshua’s sister, Mary Speed, walked and read and joked with him until his spirits and health improved and he could go back to his work.
It chanced that part of his return journey was aboard the riverboat S.S. Lebanon, between Louisville and St. Louis. From the upper deck Lincoln looked down upon a group of slaves, chained together. The sight saddened Lincoln. He wrote to Mary Speed about his feeling against slaveholding, and he never forgot the hateful scene.
Slavery had not been a problem in Illinois; the state was a part of the Northwest Territory, and by the Ordinance of 1787 slavery was not allowed. The northern part of the state was largely settled by easterners who came by way of the Great Lakes. They wanted slavery abolished. In the southern part most of the people were from slave-holding states and were used to slavery; some even favored it though they had moved north. Illinois statesmen kept slavery out of politics; that was not hard to do, for new settlers were busy with their own affairs. Lincoln had made his opinion clear early in his political career; he believed that slavery was an evil, but he did not favor abolition as the remedy. Now, haunted by the sad scene on the boat, he pondered often about how to end the injustice of enslaving fellow men.
Back in Springfield Lincoln pitched into his law business determined to think no more about Mary Todd. But he was restless and unhappy. After a time a friend brought the lovers together, and they made up their differences and renewed their engagement.
In November of 1842 they were married. The wedding was small, and they took no honeymoon journey; for Lincoln was still a poor man, burdened with old debts. He and Mary went directly to the Globe Tavern near the Square in Springfield, where they lived for some time. The stagecoach station was on the ground floor of this tavern, and on the arrival of a coach a bell was rung loudly, calling the coach boys to bring out new horses. But Mary did not mind the confusion: she liked being in the center of things. And she was fascinated with her husband’s work. She read books and reviewed them for him; she entertained visitors and promoted his career in every way she knew. Lincoln had decided not to run for the State Legislature again. He felt that his long service deserved a step up; and since Stuart chose not to run again, Lincoln expected to be nominated for Congress.
To his mortification, he was elected, instead, as a delegate to the district convention and instructed to vote for his good friend, Edward Baker. That was a trick of fate he had not expected!
“I feel a good deal like a fellow who is made a groomsman to a man that has cut him out and is marrying his own dear gal!” he told a friend.
In 1844, though he was not running for office himself, he toured Illinois and southern Indiana, speaking for the Whigs. He saw many old friends and addressed a large audience at Rockport. Two years later Lincoln was elected to Congress after a hard campaign against the popular preacher, Peter Cartwright. But the fight, the long postponement of the honor, and the threat of war with Mexico took away the joy of victory.
Meanwhile, Lincoln’s personal life had been happy, and he was being successful in his profession. In 1844 he left the Logan office and invited young William Herndon (a cousin of the Rowan Herndon of New Salem) to be his partner in a new firm “Lincoln & Herndon.” Billy Herndon was young, well educated, intelligent, and devoted to Lincoln. Even more important, he was willing to do many of the office chores that Lincoln hated. They prospered. Lincoln’s old debts were paid off; and he began to get ahead.
The Lincolns’ first son, Robert Todd, was born while they lived at the Globe Tavern; but soon after, Lincoln bought an attractive story-and-a-half house at the corner of Jackson and Eighth streets. Their second son, named for Lincoln’s friend, Edward Baker, was born in the new home.
It was from the house on Jackson Street that the Lincolns left for Washington in the late autumn of 1847.
They found the capital city a strange conglomeration of squalor and beauty. The White House was a dignified mansion and the unfinished Capitol building promised to be beautiful some day. One side of Pennsylvania Avenue had a sidewalk and was the fashionable promenade, but elsewhere people picked their way through dust or mud. Hogs, geese, and chickens ran around freely, seeking tossed-out garbage. They brushed their grimy bodies against silken skirts unless parasols were used quickly to poke the creatures away.
MARY TODD LINCOLN
Mary Todd Lincoln was a very complex woman, with many unusual personality traits.
She was born and raised in Lexington, Kentucky, to a relatively wealthy family. Her family owned slaves and several of her half brothers were killed while serving in the Confederate Army.
She went to finishing school and was fluent in French. Before marrying Abraham Lincoln, Mary Todd was courted by Stephen A. Douglas, who would later become Abraham Lincoln’s chief political rival, defeating Lincoln in the U.S. Senate race, and losing to Lincoln in the presidential election of 1860. Mary’s family greatly preferred Douglas, but Mary was attracted to Lincoln because they shared a love of literature and Whig politics.
Mary suffered from migraine headaches and may have had emotional problems with depression or bipolar disorder—or both. Throughout her life she was very moody and was often in conflict with her husband and sons.
After her husband’s assassination, Mary was forced to write letters to Congress in order to receive a small pension on which to live.
In 1871, she jumped from a window to escape an imagined fire and was committed to a private institution by her son Robert Todd. She eventually was released to her sister, Elizabeth Edwards, and lived with her until Mary’s death in 1882.
The spires of several churches caught one’s eye, but there were also many saloons and gambling houses. Gangs of shackled slaves shuffled through the streets, and an open slave market near the Capitol was offensive. Lincoln was disappointed, where he had expected to be proud. Fortunately the chatter of small boys was diverting as they drove to the boardinghouse where they were to live.
Mrs. Lincoln had high hopes of social success in Washington. But she found that President Polk was neither stylish nor elegant, and there was little formal entertaining. Worse still, her husband was soon involved in unpleasant arguments about the Mexican War.
The causes of this war went back to the Louisiana Purchase when the United States bought that vast area of unsurveyed land. No one knew exactly whether the boundary was the Rio Grande or the Nueces River. Lincoln made a plain statement of the facts in his speech before Congress in January of 1848:
“… As to the country now in question (Texas) we bought it of France in 1803, and sold it to Spain in 1819… . After this, all Mexico, including Texas, revolutionized against Spain; still later, Texas revolutionized against Mexico.” Abraham Lincoln knew his country’s history.
Through all these changes the boundaries of Texas didn’t matter because no one lived there. When people from the North set up homes and businesses and asked that Texas be admitted as a state, the boundary was important. Both Mexican and United States armies moved to the land between the rivers and the President declared war.
The shooting began after Mr. Lincoln was nominated for Congress and was over when he went to take his seat in December of 1847. But American soldiers were still there, peace papers were not signed, and Congress must vote money to finish the task. This Lincoln did.
But when he was asked to support resolutions which said the President was right to declare war, he balked
. Congress, not the President, had the right to declare war, he said. If one man, though President, had the right to make war, where was the difference between that and the hated right of kings?
He was concerned, too, about his country getting more southern land—and probably more slavery.
“Show me the spot where there was Mexican aggression!” Lincoln said.
Political opponents twisted his words to mean that he would not support American soldiers. They called him “Spotty Lincoln” in derision. Many Illinois newspapers did not even print copies of his speech and his letters explaining his convictions. What hurt most was that Billy Herndon, his partner and close friend, was against him! That was hard to endure.
In a long letter to Herndon, Lincoln explained what he thought about that war and then wrote, “I will stake my life that if you had been in my place you would have voted just as I did. Would you have voted for what you felt and knew to be a lie? I know you would not.” On the “direct question of the Justice of the war … no man can be silent if he would. You are compelled to speak; your only alternative is to tell the truth or a lie.” Where truth was concerned, “Honest Abe” saw no problem.
Lincoln’s firm stand for what he believed right injured his prospects in Washington and in Illinois. His wife suffered deeply. In the summer she and the boys paid a long visit to her family in Kentucky. While she was away, Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln wrote to each other letters about themselves and their beloved sons and things that are important to a man and woman who love each other. They must have valued those letters for several of them were saved.
The term in Congress was not all loss. Mr. Lincoln made some good speeches; he widened his circle of friends; and he gained valuable experience. He attended the Whig convention where Zachary Taylor, the general of Mexican War fame, was nominated for president, and he campaigned for Taylor in New England. Lincoln did not run for re-election to Congress. No fanfare greeted Lincoln when he came back to Springfield. Illinois Whigs thought he had hurt his party and ended his political career. After his dreams and his wife’s determination that he should get to high places, this was hard to take.
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