Lincoln, the Politician. T. Aaron Levy
CHAPTER III
THE POLITICAL HERO OF NEW SALEM
The immediate occasion for the departure of Thomas Lincoln from Indiana was the visitation of the mysterious ailment widely known as the "milk sick." The scant progress made by the family in Spencer County strengthened his desire to try his fortune in a new land—a land that in the distance held forth alluring promises of betterment.
They arrived in Illinois at the transitional period when the progressive settler was putting on the clothing of civilization. The concentration of population scattered the obstacles of progress. The wilderness was subdued, and the worth of the prairie land proved. The howl of the wolf ever growing fainter and fainter marked the hurrying advance of another dominion.[43] Shyly but steadily style showed itself in the home, food and dress. Through the surface it betokened the coming of a settled community; it was the unfailing external sign of prosperity and of fellowship with religion and education.
The old pioneer mourned the change. He saw the loom put away, and ribbons supplant the cotton frock. With saddened heart, he met the new civilization. To him, it was the doom of the old hospitality, of his freedom, the coonskin cap; the deer shoes; the log cabin built with his own hands. "Hog and hominy" no longer waited on hunger. What his child named progress did not compensate him for the flight of the companions of his youth. The pioneer had in the name of civilization cleared the land of the Indian, who could not adapt himself to its way, and now the victor was in turn to yield to the same unrelenting monarch.
John Hanks was the path finder for the little colony. He selected a place close to Decatur as a home for the wanderers. Lincoln took a hand in making the cabin which soon housed his father and family. But rather than engage in manual labor, he was alert to show his skill as a speaker. "After Abe got to Decatur," says John Hanks, "or rather to Macon (my county), a man by the name of Posey came into our neighborhood, and made a speech; it was a bad one, and I said Abe could beat it. I turned down a box or keg, and Abe made his speech. The other man was a candidate. Abe wasn't. Abe beat him to death, his subject being the navigation of the Sangamon River. The man, after the speech was through, took Abe aside, and asked him where he had learned so much, and how he did so well. Abe replied, stating his manner and method of reading, and what he had read. The man encouraged Lincoln to persevere."[44]
Lincoln fretted under the tutorage of his father, and longed for the hour of his legal freedom. When that period came, he promptly joined John Hanks in guiding a flat boat to New Orleans for one Denton Offutt.[45]
Perhaps the most critical incident in the life of Lincoln was this second visit to New Orleans. Hitherto, with a single exception, his life was simple and close to nature and the human heart. Young as he was, the solemnity of the forest, the expanse of the prairie, the nearness to the heart of things, the problems of life and their seriousness already cut their lines in his sensitive organism. Knowing little of the mercantile world, in the realm of thought he was already master of those around him. There was something of Hamlet in this gaunt youth.
The varied amusements of the southern city that fascinated his companions did not move or detain him. One sight alone riveted his attention. A mulatto girl was on sale. She was trotted up and down like an animal. Others saw the scene without flinching. It was nothing to them; no lash on their backs. According to Herndon, the whole thing was so revolting that Lincoln moved away from the scene with a deep feeling of hate, saying to his companions, "By God, boys, let's get away from this. If I ever get a chance to hit that thing (meaning slavery), I'll hit it hard."[46]
From that time Lincoln hated slavery with all his soul. The slave dynasty was an organized evil of national power. It dominated the actions and even the opinions of men; its whisper silenced the voice of conscience; its power dictated legislative policies, and was even known to intrude into the sanctuary of judicial tribunals. It was not a stranger in distinguished pulpits.
Lincoln was weak, helpless, unregarded. A blow from his hand would then fall impotent and unnoticed. Three courses of conduct confronted him. He might, with the majority have become an apologist of slavery, as this was the popular highway. Thus he might have gained the fame of Stephen A. Douglas, but he would not have saved the nation. He might have become an aggressive assailant of slavery. Such conduct would have made him a political outcast in New Salem. In this way, he might have won the renown of a Wendell Phillips but he would not have become the national helmsman. He was neither abolitionist nor apologist.
One other way was open. He knew his weakness. The day to strike a blow had not yet come. He held his anger and bided his hour. He would not rush, but await the time when a blow from his hand would long leave its traces on the evil. He turned back to his work and to his associates. Objectively, he was the same as ever, but a soul had been awakened to the crime of the ages that would not rest until the auction block should be shattered and the American soil rendered uneasy at the presence of the human auctioneer. He knew that sooner or later the occasion for action would rejoice his soul. This faith reconciled him to the sluggard march of events.
Some time in the summer of 1831, there drifted into the thriving village of New Salem one who was to add lustre to her name. Some days later Minter Graham, the school master, was "short of a clerk" at election. Asking a tall stranger if he could write, he was met with the quaint reply that he could make a few rabbit marks. "Lincoln," says the school man, "performed the duties with great facility, much fairness, and honesty and impartiality. This was the first public official act of his life."[47]
Lincoln first gained prestige in New Salem through his droll stories. It was the fast road to the good will of an audience. In those days when amusement was scant it was no mean gift. It was then a kind of legal tender for a dinner or similar hospitality, and in a pioneer community popular favor is a harbinger of high honor. Lincoln found little to do until he became the chief clerk of the presuming store of Denton Offutt. Here he rapidly won the regard of the listener and participated in many discussions; here he met and talked with the people, and he made another advance in the public esteem.
Like many pioneer communities New Salem was largely dominated by a rough crowd of young men, known there as the "Clary Grove Boys." They were typical of the class in Illinois that stubbornly yielded to the reign of the law. They rapidly disappeared in settled communities, but in the outlying towns, for a long time, they maintained their power. Usually acting in unison, they were much sought by those seeking political preferment. They attended church, heard the sermon, wept and prayed, shouted, got up and fought an hour, and then went back to prayer just as the spirit moved them.[48] Rude and even cruel to the traveler, they made mercy the companion of the orphan. They had no sympathy for weakness, or patience with culture. No stranger could attain standing in their affection unless he proved his worth in the gantlet of a physical contest with one of their leaders.
The enthusiasm of Offutt for Lincoln was boundless. He declared that, "Abe knew more than any man in the United States," that "he would some day be President of the United States." All this did not disturb the boys of Clary Grove, but when he bragged "that he could, at that present moment, outrun, whip or throw down any man in Sangamon County," then the pride of the gang was awakened. A bet of ten dollars was made that Jack Armstrong, their leader, "was a better man than Lincoln." The newcomer could not well avoid a combat. In the presence of a host of sympathizers of the Clary Grove leader, the fight began. Lincoln put forth his strength and the crowd saw Armstrong's supremacy endangered. In the heat of the fray, they forgot the rules of fair fighting and broke through the ring. This angered Lincoln, and with a giant's effort, he gathered their champion in his arms and shook him like a child. Lincoln's bearing won the regard of Armstrong. He grasped the hand of the victor, proclaiming in the presence of his followers that Lincoln was the best fellow that ever broke into the settlement.[49] A wonderful friendship resulted. "Whenever Lincoln worked Jack 'did his loafing'; and, when Lincoln was out of work, he spent days and weeks