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Tag: Female correspondent

Letter to Grace Bedell (October 19, 1860)

Ranking

#10 on the list of 150 Most Teachable Lincoln Documents

Annotated Transcript

“My dear little Miss….”

Audio Version

On This Date

HD Daily Report, October 19, 1860

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Close Readings

Matthew Pinsker: Understanding Lincoln: Letter to Grace Bedell (1860) from The Gilder Lehrman Institute on Vimeo.

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Other Primary Sources

Letter from “True Republicans” to Abraham Lincoln, October 12, 1860

Letter from Grace Bedell to Abraham Lincoln, October 15, 1860

Philadelphia Inquirer article from February 20, 1861

Lexington Weekly Globe remarks from November 22, 1860 found in The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln volume 4, pg. 144

Grace Bedell, recollection of Abraham Lincoln encounter, 1918

 

 

How Historians Interpret

“Visitors did not know what to make of this President-elect. He surprised even his old friends by growing a beard. During the campaign some New York ‘True Republicans,’ worried that Lincoln’s unflattering photographs would cost the party votes, suggested that he ‘would be much improved in appearance, provided you would cultivate whiskers, and wear standing collars.’ A letter from an eleven-year-old girl in Westfield, New York, named Grace Bedell promised to get her brothers to vote for Lincoln if he let his beard grow. ‘you would look a great deal better for your face is so thin,’ she suggested. ‘All the ladies like whiskers and they would tease their husband’s to vote for you and then you would be President.’ Amused, Lincoln replied, ‘As to the whiskers, having never worn any, do you not think people would call it a piece of silly affec[ta]tion if I were to begin it now?’ He answered his own question and by the end of November was sporting a half beard, which he initially kept closely cropped. No one knew just what to make of the change. Perhaps it suggested that he was hiding his face because he knew he was not ready to be President. Or maybe it demonstrated the supreme self-confidence of a man who was willing to risk the inevitable ridicule and unavoidable puns like ‘Old Abe is…puttin’ on (h)airs.’ Or possibly it hinted that the President-elect wanted to present a new face to the public, a more authoritative and elderly bearded visage. Or maybe the beard signified nothing more than that the President-elect was bored during the long months of inaction between his nomination and his inauguration.”

David Herbert Donald, Lincoln (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1995), 258-259

 

Further Reading

 

 

Searchable Text

Private
Miss. Grace Bedell Springfield, Ills.
My dear little Miss. Oct 19. 1860

Your very agreeable letter of the 15th. is received.

I regret the necessity of saying I have no daughters. I have three sons—one seventeen, one nine, and one seven, years of age. They, with their mother, constitute my whole family.

As to the whiskers, having never worn any, do you not think people would call it a piece of silly affection if I were to begin it now? Your very sincere well-wisher A. LINCOLN.

 

Letter to Mary Todd Lincoln (April 16, 1848)

Ranking

#12 on the list of 150 Most Teachable Lincoln Documents

Annotated Transcript

“In this troublesome world, we are never quite satisfied….”

Audio Version

On This Date

HD Daily Report, April 16, 1848

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Letter to Mary Todd
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Other Primary Sources

“Multiple Classified Advertisements,” National Daily Intelligencer, August 14, 1848

Letter from Mary Todd Lincoln to Abraham Lincoln, November 2, 1862

Letter from Abraham Lincoln to Mary Todd Lincoln, June 16, 1863

Letter from Abraham Lincoln to Mary Todd Lincoln, September 21, 1863

 

How Historians Interpret

“The subject of much gossip in Springfield, they incorrectly represented the Lincoln’s marriage. For all their quarrels, they were devoted to each other. In the long years of their marriage Abraham Lincoln was never suspected of being unfaithful to his wife. She, in turn, was immensely proud of him and was his most loyal supporter and admirer. When someone compared her husband unfavorably to Douglas, she responded stoutly: ‘Mr. Lincoln may not be as handsome a figure…but the people are perhaps not aware that his heart is as large as his arms are long.'”

–David Herbert Donald, Lincoln (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1995), 108

 

“Unlike her husband, Mary Lincoln enjoyed little popularity. By April 1848, she had returned to her father’s home in Lexington. She may have been lonely, for there were few congressional wives with whom to socialize. (In 1845, only 72 of the 221 members of the House were accompanied by family members.) At the boarding house, Mary Lincoln ‘was so retiring that she was rarely seen except at meals.’ Some boarders at Mrs. Sprigg’s, like those in the Globe Tavern five years earlier, found her disagreeable. On April 16, 1848, Lincoln wrote her saying that all the guests at Mrs. Spriggs’s ‘or rather, all with whom you were on decided good terms – send their love to you. The others say nothing.’ Lincoln had mixed feelings about his wife’s absence … (Other congressional spouses may have envied Mary Lincoln her departure. One observed: ‘I do not believe that Washington is very pleasant to any of the Member’s wives. I have conversed with several whom I have met and all seem tired of it and wish to go home.’)”

Michael Burlingame, Abraham Lincoln: A Life (2 volumes, originally published by Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008) Unedited Manuscript By Chapter, Lincoln Studies Center, Volume 1, Chapter 8 (PDF), pp. 763-764

 

“Details about mundane matters and dreams blotted the pages. They reveal just how much the couple cared for one another. Mary conveyed with some relief that she was not suffering from her familiar complaint of migraines. Lincoln wrote back: ‘You are entirely free from headache? That is good – good – considering it is the first spring you have been free from it since we were acquainted.’ He continued with some joviality: ‘I am afraid you will get so well and fat and young as to be wanting to marry again.’ This kind of banter suggests an easy and comfortable relationship, built upon a solid foundation – as in other correspondence Mrs. Lincoln might joke about her ‘next husband’ or wanting to be rich enough to travel, which might not have been mentioned if they were sore points. Lincoln even added playfully: ‘Get weighed and write how much you weigh.’ This confident intimacy shows the depths of the couple’s bond.”

Catherine Clinton, Mrs. Lincoln: A Life, (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2009), 84

 

 

Further Reading

 

 

Searchable Text

Washington, April 16- 1848-
  
Dear Mary: 
In this troublesome world, we are never quite satisfied. When you were here, I thought you hindered me some in attending to business; but now, having nothing but business—no variety—it has grown exceedingly tasteless to me. I hate to sit down and direct documents, and I hate to stay in this old room by myself. You know I told you in last sunday’s letter, I was going to make a little speech during the week; but the week has passed away without my getting a chance to do so; and now my interest in the subject has passed away too. Your second and third letters have been received since I wrote before. Dear Eddy thinks father is “gone tapila.”  Has any further discovery been made as to the breaking into your grand-mother’s house?  If I were she, I would not remain there alone. You mention that your uncle John Parker is likely to be at Lexington. Dont forget to present him my very kindest regards.
I went yesterday to hunt the little plaid stockings, as you wished; but found that McKnight has quit business, and Allen had not a single pair of the description you give, and only one plaid pair of any sort that I thought would fit “Eddy’s dear little feet.” I have a notion to make another trial to-morrow morning. If I could get them, I have an excellent chance of sending them. …
…Very soon after you went away, I got what I think a very pretty set of shirt-bosom studs—modest little ones, jet, set in gold, only costing 50 cents a piece, or $1.50 for the whole.
Suppose you do not prefix the “Hon” to the address on your letters to me any more. I like the letters very much, but I would rather they should not have that upon them. It is not necessary, as I suppose you have thought, to have them to come free.
And you are entirely free from head-ache? That is good—good—considering it is the first spring you have been free from it since we were acquainted. I am afraid you will get so well, and fat, and young, as to be wanting to marry again. Tell Louisa I want her to watch you a little for me. Get weighed, and write me how much you weigh.
I did not get rid of the impression of that foolish dream about dear Bobby till I got your letter written the same day. What did he and Eddy think of the little letters father sent them? 
Dont let the blessed fellows forget father….
Most affectionately 
A. LINCOLN

 

Letter to Mary Speed (September 27, 1841)

Contributing Editors for this page include Mary Beth Donnelly

Ranking

#46 on the list of 150 Most Teachable Lincoln Documents

Annotated Transcript

“A gentleman had purchased twelve negroes in different parts of Kentucky and was taking them to a farm in the South. They were chained six and six together.”

Audio Version

On This Date

HD Daily Report, September 27, 1841

The Lincoln Log, September 27, 1841

Close Readings

Mary Beth Donnelly, “Understanding Lincoln” blog post (via Quora), September 30, 2013

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How Historians Interpret

“It was a scene that would have provoked fury and outrage in the writings of any abolitionist we know of. Yet Lincoln first said that Nothing of interest happened during the passage’ and commented on how well the Negroes seemed to take the horror they were facing. ‘Amid all these distressing circumstances … they were the most cheerful and apparently happy creatures on board.’ A slave who had been sold away from his wife played the fiddle, and others ‘danced, sung, cracked jokes, and played cards’ every day. ‘How true it is that ‘God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,’ or in other words, that He renders the worst of human conditions tolerable, while He permits the best, to be nothing better than tolerable.'”

—Phillip Shaw Paludan, “Lincoln and Negro Slavery: I Haven’t Got Time for the Pain”Journal of the Abraham Lincoln Society 27, 2006.

“Lincoln said that he grew up hating slavery, and his few recorded reactions to seeing actual slaves reinforced his professed revulsion. In this letter to Mary Speed, the half sister of his best friend, Joshua, Lincoln depicted his experience of seeing a coffle of slaves in St. Louis. The slaves recently had been purchased in his home state of Kentucky and were destined for the owner’s farm somewhere in the South. Lincoln imagined how it would feel to be ‘separated forever from the scenes of their childhood, their friends, their fathers and mothers, and brothers and sisters, and many of them, from their wives and children, probably going into perpetual slavery where the lash of the master is proverbially more ruthless and unrelenting than any other where.’ Yet he believed that the poor slaves endured their misfortune with laughter and song, God’s or nature’s way of permitting a person to endure hardship.”

“AL to Mary Speed in Lincoln on Race and Slavery, ed. Henry Louis Gates Jr., and David Yacovone, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009), p. 9

NOTE TO READERS

This page is under construction and will be developed further by students in the new “Understanding Lincoln” online course sponsored by the House Divided Project at Dickinson College and the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History. To find out more about the course and to see some of our videotaped class sessions, including virtual field trips to Ford’s Theatre and Gettysburg, please visit our Livestream page at http://new.livestream.com/gilderlehrman/lincoln

 

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Bloomington, Illinois    Sept. 27th. 1841
 
Miss Mary Speed
Louisville, Ky.
 
 
My Friend:
 
Having resolved to write to some of your mother’s family, and not having the express permission of any one of them [to] do so, I have had some little difficulty in determining on which to inflict the task of reading what I now feel must be a most dull and silly letter; but when I remembered that you and I were something of cronies while I was at Farmington, and that, while there, I once was under the necessity of shutting you up in a room to prevent your committing an assault and battery upon me, I instantly decided that you should be the devoted one.
 
I assume that you have not heard from Joshua & myself since we left, because I think it doubtful whether he has written.
 
You remember there was some uneasiness about Joshua’s health when we left. That little indisposition of his turned out to be nothing serious; and it was pretty nearly forgotten when we reached Springfield. We got on board the Steam Boat Lebanon, in the locks of the Canal about 12. o’clock. M. of the day we left, and reached St. Louis the next monday at 8 P.M. Nothing of interest happened during the passage, except the vexatious delays occasioned by the sand bars be thought interesting. By the way, a fine example was presented on board the boat for contemplating the effect ofcondition upon human happiness. A gentleman had purchased twelve negroes in different parts of Kentucky and was taking them to a farm in the South. They were chained six and six together. A small iron clevis was around the left wrist of each, and this fastened to the main chain by a shorter one at a convenient distance from, the others; so that the negroes were strung together precisely like so many fish upon a trot-line. In this condition they were being separated forever from the scenes of their childhood, their friends, their fathers and mothers, and brothers and sisters, and many of them, from their wives and children, and going into perpetual slavery where the lash of the master is proverbially more ruthless and unrelenting than any other where; and yet amid all these distressing circumstances, as we would think them, they were the most cheerful and apparantly happy creatures on board. One, whose offence for which he had been sold was an over-fondness for his wife, played the fiddle almost continually; and the others danced, sung, cracked jokes, and played various games with cards from day to day. How true it is that “God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,” or in other words, that He renders the worst of human conditions tolerable, while He permits the best, to be nothing better than tolerable.
 
To return to the narative. When we reached Springfield, I staid but one day when I started on this tedious circuit where I now am. Do you remember my going to the city while I was in Kentucky, to have a tooth extracted, and making a failure of it? Well, that same old tooth got to paining me so much, that about a week since I had it torn out, bringing with it a bit of the jawbone; the consequence of which is that my mouth is now so sore that I can neither talk, nor eat. I am litterally “subsisting on savoury remembrances”—that is, being unable to eat, I am living upon the remembrance of the delicious dishes of peaches and cream we used to have at your house.
 
When we left, Miss Fanny Henning was owing you a visit, as I understood. Has she paid it yet? If she has, are you not convinced that she is one of the sweetest girls in the world? There is but one thing about her, so far as I could perceive, that I would have otherwise than as it is. That is something of a tendency to melancholly. This, let it be observed, is a misfortune not a fault. Give her an assurance of my verry highest regard, when you see her.
 
Is little Siss Eliza Davis at your house yet? If she is kiss her “o’er and o’er again” for me.
 
Tell your mother that I have not got her “present” with me; but that I intend to read it regularly when I return home. I doubt not that it is really, as she says, the best cure for the “Blues” could one but take it according to the truth.
 
Give my respects to all your sisters (including “Aunt Emma”) and brothers. Tell Mrs. Peay, of whose happy face I shall long retain a pleasant remembrance, that I have been trying to think of a name for her homestead, but as yet, can not satisfy myself with one. I shall be verry happy to receive a line from you, soon after you receive this; and, in case you choose to favour me with one, address it to Charleston, Coles Co. Ills as I shall be there about the time to receive it.
Your sincere friend
A. LINCOLN

Letter to Lydia Bixby (November 21, 1864)

Contributing Editors for this page include Michael Mazzullo

Ranking

#71 on the list of 150 Most Teachable Lincoln Documents

 

Annotated Transcript

‘I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts, that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle.”

On This Date

HD Daily Report, November 21, 1864

The Lincoln Log, November 21, 1864

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Close Readings

Michael Mazzullo, “Understanding Lincoln” blog post (via Quora), June 27, 2014

How Historians Interpret

“The beautiful Bixby letter was not written by Lincoln but rather by John Hay, nor was its recipient the mother of five sons killed in the war. She lost two of her boys and tried to cheat the government out of money by claiming that the others had been killed. Of the three survivors, one had deserted to the enemy, another may have done so, and the third was honorably discharged. Mrs. Bixby was born in Virginia, sympathized with the Confederacy, and disliked Lincoln so much that she apparently destroyed the letter in anger. Evidence suggests that she ran a whorehouse in Boston and was ‘perfectly untrustworthy.’ (Though he did not compose the famous communication to Mrs. Bixby, Lincoln on occasion wrote exceptionally moving and beautiful letters of condolence, like those he sent to the parents of Elmer Ellsworth in 1861 and to Fanny McCullough the following year.) The adjutant general of Massachusetts, after hand-delivering the letter to Mrs. Bixby, provided copies to newspapers, which gave it wide distribution.”

–Michael Burlingame, Abraham Lincoln: A Life (2 volumes, originally published by Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008) Unedited Manuscript by Chapter, Lincoln Studies Center, Volume 2, Chapter 35  (PDF), 3856-3857.

 

“Lincoln’s heart went out to mothers who suffered multiple losses – women such as Sarah Mills of Des Moines, Iowa, who lost her husband, father, and brother at the battle of Corinth, Mississippi, and Polly Ray, a widow in North Carolina whose seven sons were killed in the war. Lincoln had recently written a compassionate and masterful letter to a Massachusetts woman, Lydia Bixby, who claimed to have lost five sons in the war… Years later historians discovered that Lydia Bixby was a Southern sympathizer who ran a whorehouse and that she had lost two, nor five, sons. She did indeed have three other sons: one had deserted the army, another may have deserted, and the third was honorably discharged. Despite the mythology of her case, Lincoln’s Bixby letter is a classic example of presidential compassion from a deeply caring man who would feel the pain of those who had lost loved ones.

–Donald Winkler, Lincoln’s Ladies (Nashville: Cumberland House, 2004), 192.

NOTE TO READERS

This page is under construction and will be developed further by students in the new “Understanding Lincoln” online course sponsored by the House Divided Project at Dickinson College and the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History. To find out more about the course and to see some of our videotaped class sessions, including virtual field trips to Ford’s Theatre and Gettysburg, please visit our Livestream page at http://new.livestream.com/gilderlehrman/lincoln

 

Searchable Text

Executive Mansion,
Washington, Nov. 21, 1864.
 
Dear Madam,
—I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts, that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle.
 
I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering to you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save.
 
I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours, to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of Freedom.
 
Yours, very sincerely and respectfully,
A. LINCOLN.

Letter to Mary Lincoln (September 21, 1863)

Ranking

#89 on the list of 150 Most Teachable Lincoln Documents

Annotated Transcript

“The air is so clear and cool, and apparantly healthy, that I would be glad for you to come. Nothing very particular, but I would be glad [to] see you and Tad.”

On This Date

HD Daily Report, September 21, 1863

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How Historians Interpret

“By the seventh week of Mary’s absence, Lincoln’s entreaties for her to return home become more wheedling: on September 20 – ‘I neither see nor hear anything of sickness here now,’ and on September 21- ‘The air so clear and cool, and apparently healthy that I would be glad for you to come.’ He also tried to use go-between to try to get his family back to Washington, writing on the twenty-second: ‘Mrs. Cuthbert did not correctly understand me I directed her to tell you to use your own pleasure whether to stay or come; and I did not say it is sickly and that you should on no account come… I really wish to see you. Answer this on receipt.’ Mary responded that she had called for transportation to return from New York and that she was anxious to return home.”

Catherine Clinton, “The Fiery Furnace of Affliction,” in 1863: Lincoln’s Pivotal Year, ed. Harold Holzer and Sarah Vaughn Gabbard (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2013), 81.

“Only a dozen short telegrams between the Lincolns remain from that summer. In these brief communications, Lincoln talked about the heat, shared news of the Kentucky elections, and asked her to let ‘dear Tad’ know that his nanny goat had run away and left his father ‘in distress about it.’ Only in mid-September, as the time drew near for Mary’s return, did Lincoln admit that he had missed her, repeating in two separate telegrams his eagerness to be reunited with her and with Tad. Mary understood that he was ‘not given to letter writing,’ and so long as she was assured of his good health, she remained content.”

Doris Kearns Goodwin, Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2005), 540.

NOTE TO READERS

This page is under construction and will be developed further by students in the new “Understanding Lincoln” online course sponsored by the House Divided Project at Dickinson College and the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History. To find out more about the course and to see some of our videotaped class sessions, including virtual field trips to Ford’s Theatre and Gettysburg, please visit our Livestream page at http://new.livestream.com/gilderlehrman/lincoln

 

Searchable Text

Washington, D.C. 
Sept. 21. 1863
 
Mrs. A Lincoln 
Fifth Avenue Hotel New-York
 
The air is so clear and cool, and apparantly healthy, that I would be glad for you to come. Nothing very particular, but I would be glad [to] see you and Tad.
 
A. LINCOLN

Letter to Mary Owens (August 16, 1837)

Ranking

#91 on the list of 150 Most Teachable Lincoln Documents

Annotated Transcript

“I want in all cases to do right, and most particularly so, in all cases with women. I want, at this particular time, more than any thing else, to do right with you, and if I knew it would be doing right, as I rather suspect it would, to let you alone, I would do it.”

On This Date

HD Daily Report, August 16, 1837

The Lincoln Log, August 16, 1837

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How Historians Interpret

“Not surprisingly, Mary Owens rejected this diffident proposal. As she later explained, “Mr. Lincoln was deficient in those little links which make up the chain of woman’s happiness…Not that I believed it proceeded from a lack of goodness of heart; but his training had been different from mine; hence there was not that congeniality which would otherwise have existed.”  Lincoln had behaved in ways that she understandably considered thoughtless and insensitive to her feelings. One day, for example, while riding with other New Salem young women and their swains, they have to a creek. All the men save Lincoln gallantly helped their companions cross. Owens chided her escort, You are a nice fellow!   I suppose you did not care whether my neck was broken or not.” Lincoln replied laughingly that he reckoned she was plenty smart enough to care for herself.”

—Michael Burlingame, The Inner World of Abraham Lincoln (University of Illinois Press, 1997), 134.

“Evidently Lincoln wished to escape gracefully from a romance now gone stale. If so, the lady obliged him. She ignored his letter, and they never met again.”

—Benjamin P. Thomas, Abraham Lincoln: A Biography (SIU Press, 2008), 70.

NOTE TO READERS

This page is under construction and will be developed further by students in the new “Understanding Lincoln” online course sponsored by the House Divided Project at Dickinson College and the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History. To find out more about the course and to see some of our videotaped class sessions, including virtual field trips to Ford’s Theatre and Gettysburg, please visit our Livestream page at http://new.livestream.com/gilderlehrman/lincoln

 

Searchable Text

Springfield
Aug. 16th 1837
 
Friend Mary. 
You will, no doubt, think it rather strange, that I should write you a letter on the same day on which we parted; and I can only account for it by supposing, that seeing you lately makes me think of you more than usual, while at our late meeting we had but few expressions of thoughts. You must know that I can not see you, or think of you, with entire indifference; and yet it may be, that you, are mistaken in regard to what my real feelings towards you are. If I knew you were not, I should not trouble you with this letter. Perhaps any other man would know enough without further information; but I consider it my peculiar right to plead ignorance, and your bounden duty to allow the plea. I want in all cases to do right, and most particularly so, in all cases with women. I want, at this particular time, more than any thing else, to do right with you, and if I knew it would be doing right, as I rather suspect it would, to let you alone, I would do it. And for the purpose of making the matter as plain as possible, I now say, that you can now drop the subject, dismiss your thoughts (if you ever had any) from me forever, and leave this letter unanswered, without calling forth one accusing murmer from me. And I will even go further, and say, that if it will add any thing to your comfort, or peace of mind, to do so, it is my sincere wish that you should. Do not understand by this, that I wish to cut your acquaintance. I mean no such thing. What I do wish is, that our further acquaintance shall depend upon yourself. If such further acquaintance would contribute nothing to your happiness, I am sure it would not to mine. If you feel yourself in any degree bound to me, I am now willing to release you, provided you wish it; while, on the other hand, I am willing, and even anxious to bind you faster, if I can be convinced that it will, in any considerable degree, add to your happiness. This, indeed, is the whole question with me. Nothing would make me more miserable than to believe you miserable—nothing more happy, than to know you were so.
 
In what I have now said, I think I can not be misunderstood; and to make myself understood, is the only object of this letter.
 
If it suits you best to not answer this—farewell—a long life and a merry one attend you. But if you conclude to write back, speak as plainly as I do. There can be neither harm nor danger, in saying, to me, any thing you think, just in the manner you think it.
 
My respects to your sister.
Your friend
LINCOLN.

Letter to Eliza Browning (April 1, 1838)

Contributing Editors for this page include Brian Kellett and Jesse O’Neill

Ranking

#92 on the list of 150 Most Teachable Lincoln Documents

Annotated Transcript

“In a few days we had an interview, and although I had seen her before, she did not look as my immagination had pictured her. I knew she was over-size, but she now appeared a fair match for Falstaff; I knew she was called an “old maid”, and I felt no doubt of the truth of at least half of the appelation; but now, when I beheld her, I could not for my life avoid thinking of my mother…”

On This Date

HD Daily Report, April 1, 1838

The Lincoln Log, April 1, 1838

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Close Readings


Posted at YouTube by “Understanding Lincoln” course participant Brian Kellett, August 2014


Posted at YouTube by “Understanding Lincoln” course participant Jesse O’Neill, July 2014

How Historians Interpret

“This account of the courtship is misleading, for Lincoln’s correspondence with Mary Owens indicates that he ‘had grown very fond’ of her and backed away only after she wounded him severely. A letter he wrote her in December 1836 from Vandalia “shows that Lincoln was in love – deeply in love.’ In it, Lincoln complained of ‘the mortification of looking in the Post Office for your letter and not finding it.’ He scolded her: ‘You see, I am mad about that old letter yet. I don’t like verry well to risk you again. I’ll try you once more anyhow.’ The prospect of spending ten weeks with the legislature in Vandalia was intolerable, he lamented, for he missed her. ‘Write back as soon as you get this, and if possible say something that will please me, for really I have not [been] pleased since I left you.’ Such language, hardly that of an indifferent suitor, tends to confirm Parthena Hill’s statement that ‘Lincoln thought a great deal” of Mary Owens.'”

Michael Burlingame, Abraham Lincoln: A Life, Volume 1 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), 520-521.

“There is at least one particular sense in which Lincoln could not have been ‘a very social man’ even if he had been inclined to it, and that concerned the most intimate community he belonged to, his marriage with Mary Todd Lincoln. Although the Lincoln marriage was suspected almost from the start for being ‘a policy Match all around,’ the fact is that all of Lincoln’s attempts at marriage were, in more than a few respects, policy matches. His sadly aborted love match with Ann Rutledge as well as his rebound proposal to Mary Owens were, whatever the quotient of affection in them, both potential marriages-up for Lincoln—Ann Rutledge, of course, belonged to the first family of New Salem (and while that may not have been very much of a social climb from Lincoln’s later perspective, it certainly was from New Salem’s) and Mary Owens was not only ‘jovial’ and ‘social’ but ‘had a liberal English education & was considered wealthy.'”

Allen C. Guelzo, “Come-outers and Community Men: Abraham Lincoln and the Idea of Community in Nineteenth-Century America,” Journal of the Abraham Lincoln Association 21, no. 1 (2000): 1-29.

NOTE TO READERS

This page is under construction and will be developed further by students in the new “Understanding Lincoln” online course sponsored by the House Divided Project at Dickinson College and the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History. To find out more about the course and to see some of our videotaped class sessions, including virtual field trips to Ford’s Theatre and Gettysburg, please visit our Livestream page at http://new.livestream.com/gilderlehrman/lincoln

Searchable Text

Springfield,
April 1. 1838.
 
Dear Madam: 
Without appologising for being egotistical, I shall make the history of so much of my own life, as has elapsed since I saw you, the subject of this letter. And by the way I now discover, that, in order to give a full and inteligible account of the things I have done and suffered since I saw you, I shall necessarily have to relate some that happened before.
 
It was, then, in the autumn of 1836, that a married lady of my acquaintance, and who was a great friend of mine, being about to pay a visit to her father and other relatives residing in Kentucky, proposed to me, that on her return she would bring a sister of hers with her, upon condition that I would engage to become her brother-in-law with all convenient dispach. I, of course, accepted the proposal; for you know I could not have done otherwise, had I really been averse to it; but privately between you and me, I was most confoundedly well pleased with the project. I had seen the said sister some three years before, thought her inteligent and agreeable, and saw no good objection to plodding life through hand in hand with her. Time passed on, the lady took her journey and in due time returned, sister in company sure enough. This stomached me a little; for it appeared to me, that her coming so readily showed that she was a trifle too willing; but on reflection it occured to me, that she might have been prevailed on by her married sister to come, without any thing concerning me ever having been mentioned to her; and so I concluded that if no other objection presented itself, I would consent to wave this. All this occured upon my hearing of her arrival in the neighbourhood; for, be it remembered, I had not yet seen her, except about three years previous, as before mentioned.
 
In a few days we had an interview, and although I had seen her before, she did not look as my immagination had pictured her. I knew she was over-size, but she now appeared a fair match for Falstaff; I knew she was called an “old maid”, and I felt no doubt of the truth of at least half of the appelation; but now, when I beheld her, I could not for my life avoid thinking of my mother; and this, not from withered features, for her skin was too full of fat, to permit its contracting in to wrinkles; but from her want of teeth, weather-beaten appearance in general, and from a kind of notion that ran in my head, that nothing could have commenced at the size of infancy, and reached her present bulk in less than thirtyfive or forty years; and, in short, I was not all pleased with her. But what could I do? I had told her sister that I would take her for better or for worse; and I made 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 doubted not they had, for I was now fairly convinced, that no other man on earth would have her, and hence the conclusion that they were bent on holding me to my bargain. Well, thought I, I have said it, and, be consequences what they may, it shall not be my fault if I fail to do it. At once I determined to consider her my wife; and this done, all my powers of discovery were put to the rack, in search of perfections in her, which might be fairly set-off against her defects. I tried to immagine she was handsome, which, but for her unfortunate corpulency, was actually true. Exclusive of this, no woman that I have seen, has a finer face. I also tried to convince myself, that the mind was much more to be valued than the person; and in this, she was not inferior, as I could discover, to any with whom I had been acquainted.
 
Shortly after this, without attempting to come to any positive understanding with her, I set out for Vandalia, where and when you first saw me. During my stay there, I had letters from her, which did not change my opinion of either her intelect or intention; but on the contrary, confirmed it in both.
 
All this while, although I was fixed “firm as the surge repelling rock” in my resolution, I found I was continually repenting the rashness, which had led me to make it. Through life I have been in no bondage, either real or immaginary from the thraldom of which I so much desired to be free.
 
After my return home, I saw nothing to change my opinion of her in any particular. She was the same and so was I. I now spent my time between planing how I might get along through life after my contemplated change of circumstances should have taken place; and how I might procrastinate the evil day for a time, which I really dreaded as much—perhaps more, than an irishman does the halter.
 
After all my suffering upon this deeply interesting subject, here I am, wholly unexpectedly, completely out of the “scrape”; and I now want to know, if you can guess how I got out of it. Out clear in every sense of the term; no violation of word, honor or conscience. I dont believe you can guess, and so I may as well tell you at once. As the lawyers say, it was done in the manner following, towit. After I had delayed the matter as long as I thought I could in honor do, which by the way had brought me round into the last fall, I concluded I might as well bring it to a consumation without further delay; and so I mustered my resolution, and made the proposal to her direct; but, shocking to relate, she answered, No. At first I supposed she did it through an affectation of modesty, which I thought but ill-become her, under the peculiar circumstances of her case; but on my renewal of the charge, I found she repeled it with greater firmness than before. I tried it again and again, but with the same success, or rather with the same want of success. I finally was forced to give it up, at which I verry unexpectedly found myself mortified almost beyond endurance. I was mortified, it seemed to me, 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 no body 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 really a little in love with her. But let it all go. I’ll try and out live it. Others have been made fools of by the girls; but this can never be with truth 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 can never be satisfied with any one who would be block-head enough to have me.
 
When you receive this, write me a long yarn about something to amuse me. Give my respects to Mr. Browning.
Your sincere friend
A. LINCOLN
 
Mrs. O. H. Browning. 

Letter to Fanny McCullough (December 23, 1862)

Contributing Editors for this page include Megan VanGorder

Ranking

#99 on the list of 150 Most Teachable Lincoln Documents

Annotated Transcript

“It is with deep grief that I learn of the death of your kind and brave Father; and, especially, that it is affecting your young heart beyond what is common in such cases. In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all; and, to the young, it comes with bitterest agony, because it takes them unawares.”

On This Date

HD Daily Report, December 23, 1862

The Lincoln Log, December 23, 1862

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Close Readings


Posted at YouTube by “Understanding Lincoln” course participant Megan VanGorder, July 2014

How Historians Interpret

“No witnesses described Lincoln’s reaction to his mother’s death, nor did he say anything directly about its effect on him. Many years later, however, he indirectly revealed something of his emotions when he consoled a young girl whose father had been killed in the Civil War: ‘It is with deep grief that I learn of the death of your kind and brave Father; and, especially, that it is affecting your young heart beyond what is common in such cases. In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all; and, to the young, it comes with bitterest agony, because it takes them unawares. You are sure to be happy again. To know this, which is certainly true, will make you some less miserable now.’ Significantly he added, ‘I have had experience enough to know what I say.’ Lincoln probably identified with the girl, for he too seems to have suffered the ‘bitterest agony’ at the sudden death of his mother and to have been affected ‘beyond what is common in such cases.’

–Michael Burlingame, Abraham Lincoln: A Life (2 volumes, originally published by Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008) Unedited Manuscript by Chapter, Lincoln Studies Center, Volume 1, Chapter 2 (PDF), 89-90.

 

“Modern writing carries this vision of a compassionate Lincoln to an extreme. A trip to Web sites on the Internet reveals how Lincoln has been almost sanctified. Search ‘Fanny McCullough and Lincoln’ and you find him associated with the compassion of Jesus… There is no doubt that Lincoln could be compassionate. One reason that the general public believes that Lincoln was a compassionate man is that he was one—when it came to friends and young soldiers—to the young especially. His letter to Fanny McCullough conveys empathy and a thoughtful sympathy that has seldom been equaled.”

–Phillip Shaw Paludan,”Lincoln and Negro Slavery: I haven’t Got Time for the Pain,” Journal of the Abraham Lincoln Association 27 no. 2 (2006), 1-23.

NOTE TO READERS

This page is under construction and will be developed further by students in the new “Understanding Lincoln” online course sponsored by the House Divided Project at Dickinson College and the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History. To find out more about the course and to see some of our videotaped class sessions, including virtual field trips to Ford’s Theatre and Gettysburg, please visit our Livestream page at http://new.livestream.com/gilderlehrman/lincoln

 

Searchable Text

Executive Mansion, Washington,
December 23, 1862.
 
Dear Fanny
It is with deep grief that I learn of the death of your kind and brave Father; and, especially, that it is affecting your young heart beyond what is common in such cases. In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all; and, to the young, it comes with bitterest agony, because it takes them unawares. The older have learned to ever expect it. I am anxious to afford some alleviation of your present distress. Perfect relief is not possible, except with time. You can not now realize that you will ever feel better. Is not this so? And yet it is a mistake. You are sure to be happy again. To know this, which is certainly true, will make you some less miserable now. I have had experience enough to know what I say; and you need only to believe it, to feel better at once. The memory of your dear Father, instead of an agony, will yet be a sad sweet feeling in your heart, of a purer, and holier sort than you have known before.
 
Please present my kind regards to your afflicted mother.
 
Your sincere friend
A. LINCOLN.

Letter to Mary Lincoln (June 16, 1863)

Ranking

#117 on the list of 150 Most Teachable Lincoln Documents

Annotated Transcript

“It is a matter of choice with yourself whether you come home. There is no reason why you should not, that did not exist when you went away. As bearing on the question of your coming home, I do not think the raid into Pennsylvania amounts to anything at all.”

On This Date

HD Daily Report, June 16, 1863

The Lincoln Log, June 16, 1863

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How Historians Interpret

“So little correspondence has survived between husband and wife that one is tempted to make much of a pittance.  It is irresistible because Lincoln chose his words so carefully.  Clearly she had asked whether she should come home; plainly he told her the war should not keep her away.  So his first two sentences are telling.  He would not order her to come home—it was not his way to order her about, any  more than it was her habit to submit.  The second, cryptic sentence addresses a great chasm between them.  Simply translated, it means that since she left, nothing has changed; and if she wanted to be apart from him before, it will be no different now.  The tone is distant and cool, not at all welcoming.”

Daniel Mark Epstein, The Lincolns: Portrait of a Marriage (New York: Ballentine Books, 2008), 396

NOTE TO READERS

This page is under construction and will be developed further by students in the new “Understanding Lincoln” online course sponsored by the House Divided Project at Dickinson College and the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History. To find out more about the course and to see some of our videotaped class sessions, including virtual field trips to Ford’s Theatre and Gettysburg, please visit our Livestream page at http://new.livestream.com/gilderlehrman/lincoln

 

Searchable Text

Washington City, D.C. 
June 16. 1863 
 
Mrs. Lincoln 
Philadelphia. 
It is a matter of choice with yourself whether you come home. There is no reason why you should not, that did not exist when you went away. As bearing on the question of your coming home, I do not think the raid into Pennsylvania amounts to anything at all 
A. LINCOLN

Letter to Mary Lincoln (March 4, 1860)

Contributing Editors for this page include Christopher Watson

Ranking

#140 on the list of 150 Most Teachable Lincoln Documents

Annotated Transcript

On This Date

HD Daily Report, March 4, 1860

The Lincoln Log, March 4, 1860

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Close Readings

Christopher Watson, “Understanding Lincoln” blog post (via Quora), June 26, 2014

How Historians Interpret

“Lincoln’s success at Cooper Institute led to many speaking invitations from Republicans in New England, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey. He had originally intended to visit his son Robert at Phillips Exeter Academy in New Hampshire and then return to Springfield promptly, but he agreed to take to the stump in the Granite State, in Rhode Island, and in Connecticut, where state elections were scheduled that April. The race in Connecticut was especially important, for Democrats believed that their popular candidate, Thomas Seymour, could capture the governorship, thus breaking the Republican hold on New England and inspiring Democrats everywhere. During the next two weeks, Lincoln gave hastily-scheduled addresses in Providence and Woonsocket, Rhode Island; Manchester, Exeter, Concord, and Dover, New Hampshire; and Hartford, New Haven, Bridgeport, Norwich, and Meriden, Connecticut. In the midst of that whirlwind tour, he complained to his wife: ‘I have been unable to escape this toil. If I had foreseen it I think I would not have come East at all. The speech at New York, being within my calculation before I started, went off passably well, and gave me no trouble whatever. The difficulty was to make nine others, before reading audiences, who have already seen all my ideas in print.’”

–Michael Burlingame, Abraham Lincoln: A Life, Volume 1 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), 1609-1610.

 

“Lincoln stayed at Exeter Sunday night and left on the morning train. On his way home to Springfield, he made a number of other political stops, making a total of ten speeches during his eastern trip, although he originally had only intended to make the one in New York. Such a busy schedule caused him to tell his wife, ‘I have been unable to escape this toil. If I had foreseen it I think I would not have come East at all.’ Robert found this comment by his father ‘interesting in view of the effect which was made upon his future career without thought of it by him, by his unanticipated speeches, which would not have been made but for a visit to a schoolboy.’” 46

–Jason Emerson, Giant in the Shadows: The Life of Robert T. Lincoln (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2012), 46.

 

NOTE TO READERS

This page is under construction and will be developed further by students in the new “Understanding Lincoln” online course sponsored by the House Divided Project at Dickinson College and the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History. To find out more about the course and to see some of our videotaped class sessions, including virtual field trips to Ford’s Theatre and Gettysburg, please visit our Livestream page at http://new.livestream.com/gilderlehrman/lincoln

 

Searchable Text

Exeter, N. H. March 4. 1860
 
Dear Wife:
When I wrote you before I was just starting on a little speech-making tour, taking the boys with me– On Thursday they went with me to Concord, where I spoke in day-light, and back to Manchester where I spoke at night– Friday we came down to Lawrence — the place of the Pemberton Mill  tragedy –where we remained four hours awaiting the train back to Exeter– When it came, we went upon it to Exeter where the boys got off, and I went on to Dover and spoke there Friday evening– Saturday I came back to Exeter, reaching here about noon, and finding the boys all right, having caught up with their lessons– Bob had a letter from you saying Willie and Taddy were very sick the Saturday night after I left– Having no despatch from you, and having one from Springfield, of Wednesday, from Mr. Fitzhugh,  saying nothing about our family, I trust the dear little fellows are well again–
This is Sunday morning; and according to Bob’s orders, I am to go to church once to-day– Tomorrow I bid farewell to the boys, go to Hartford, Conn. and speak there in the evening; Tuesday at Menden,  Wednesday at New-Haven — and Thursday at Woonsocket, R. I– Then I start home, and think I will not stop– I may be delayed in New-York City an hour or two– I have been unable to escape this toil– If I had foreseen it I think I would not have come East at all. The speech at New-York, being within my calculation before I started, went off passably well, and gave me no trouble whatever. The difficulty was to make nine others, before reading audiences, who have already seen all my ideas in print–
If the trains do not lie over Sunday, of which I do not know, I hope to be home to-morrow week– Once started I shall come as quick as possible–
Kiss the dear boys for Father–
Affectionately
A. Lincoln

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