That Nation Might Live: One Afternoon with Lincoln’s Stepmother Page 3
“Tom wasn’t worth shucks then, says them that were there. Without Nancy, I spect he might not a held up. Abe and Denny try their best to cheer on Sairy. They brung her baby fawns and raccoons but she’d just set by the fire and cry. She’s fragile as a goose’s egg at that tender age nohow, and her whole connection to this world was Nancy - intellygent, and Godly, and tender Nancy.
“When she lay dying, Nancy seen the trials that’d come to her baby girl with no mama to guide and love her. Certainly strained her heart, but put nary a scratch on her love of the Lord. Nancy accepted her leaving Abe, Sairy, and Tom as the Will of the Father. Predetermined as such, she went with the trust of a child. She was Separate Baptist, some called them Hard Shell Baptist. Her faith was unbending—but I know’d her heart wasn’t hard, not a bit.”
Here the old lady stopped and turned in her chair as if to hide her tears. After a moment, she wiped her eyes, turned back to me and proceeded with her story:
“Sairy clung to me something awful. Abe wasn’t so quick to it. Tommy commanded him to make his greetings to me, which Abe done and not much else. Called me ‘Mam,’ saying it low enough so Tom took no notice. Abe kept appearing from nowhere in particular, as I was seeking this and that. After I pushed aside the flapping bearskin Tommy satisfied himself was a doorway, I was across the packed dirt floor to clear the fire. It was dead of winter and they got no fire going. Them chillern were shivering with cold!
“I set aside the kittles that were sloshing with boiled squirrels. From the looks of it, smell of it too, might say it been there a day or so. Seemed like a few seasons of ashes had built up under the kittle. I turn around and there was Abe, hair swarming with lice, bony elbows and knobby knees sticking out everwhere. He was holding my birch twig broom and an old ash box, which he gave to me, and then he swooped that squirrel kittle away afore I could shine on him. Quick as a wink he was gone from my sight.
“I was fixin to fetch kindling when I about run into Abe. He was standing aside me with a heap of it in his long arms. His mind and mine, what little I had, seemed to run together, move in the same channel. He was measuring everything I done, and he was measuring it just right, kindly, otherwise kept to his business. Not so much as field mouse squeak from him. His eyes were mostly looking at the ground under his feet and they were were so black they seemed to disappear into the dirt floor. Abe’s eyes were deeply hollowed into his skull, separated, you might say, with some authority, by his nose. His ears protruded from his head like apple wedges. I must say, Mr. Herndon, that boy was the most peculiar thing that ever obstructed my view.”
Mrs. Lincoln amused, until her eyelids drifted downward. Just as I was sure she had fallen asleep, she roused herself and continued:
“I took pains not to appear hurried or worried none but inside I couldn’t move quick enough to get them poor babes cleaned up and feeling human again. While I got the fire going strong, I give the chillern buckets and send them to the stream for water—a fool mile away! When they were gone, I set the washstand and basin and a gourd of soap outside, near the cabin opening. Fetched my soap kittle and another gourd to dip water with, and I eventually soaped and scrubbed until Abe and Sairy looked again as their good mother left them.
“I dressed Abe and his sister up with things I just pulled from my trunks until they begun looking a deal better. For little Sairy, it was as simple as reaching for one of Betsy’s dresses. I plucked a bright blue calico that I figured would provide right nice contrast for Sairy’s dark features. I just had to let out the hem a little. Them Lincolns were made long! Washed and cleaned as she was, Sairy looked no relation to that half-starved creature I’d found. She screamed bloody murder when I brushed them thick scrobbles out of her hair. It brought me back just then to brushing Nancy’s hair, whooping it up like girls who don’t know better when there’s no grown folks to reign us in. Sairy looked right beautiful again, just like her Mama. I pray right then for Peace for Nancy, wishing to let her know I was here now, and she needn’t worry about her babies any more.
“For Abe I had to sort through my first husband Danny’s old wares. I cuffed the trousers some, not much—the boy was taller than many men I seen, though he was still just boy compared to Danny. Shirt needed a bit more tapering so as not to hang like it was out to dry. Abe was so skinny he might a slipped through a pin hole!
“Abe was clean and dressed when an idea occurred to my fool head, just right then, and I went for my case and reached in for my mirror. I spun it round and handed it to the boy.
“Well, sir—he stared in it for naught but a wink and his voice, mostly unheard by me, come out clear as a church bell right then.
“’Land a Goshen, is that me?”
“Mr. Herndon, I swear, that flapping bearskin door come in handy right then. I figure if Tommy’d had a real door, that one-room cabin could not a held all the grinning we done just then, like eejits we were over it.”
Here, the old lady stopped—amused and winded. After a few moments she is able to continue:
“Abe’s bed was a pile of dry leaves laid in one corner of the loft. The roof dripped some. He climbed up to it by means of a series of pegs driven into the wall as a ladder, instead of stairs. The bedsteads on the main floor were original creations, made of poles fitted into holes bored in the logs of the cabin walls and supported inside by stakes driven into the dirt floor. My new husband was a carpenter by trade and ain’t so much as made a puncheon floor or cabinet for his home. Had the best tools as any man fifty miles round, and he done the best carpentry work for others, fancy inlays and such—but under his own roof he lived on dirt floors. His table and chairs were slabs of clapboard with holes bored in the corners for the legs. Some say Tommy was shiftless. Maybe so, but I got me one this second time around, in Tommy, that I could fix up. Danny couldn’t be mended nohow.
“Abe, Cousin Denny and John D. slept upstairs in the loft. I swept the piles of leaves away and give them boys proper beds and kivers, enough to keep them warm no less. The girls slept on my bearskin by the fire. Little Sairy just chirked right up with a mother and two sisters for company.
“Next morning Tom spoke it all on his own, saying he’d get started on lumber for a new floor. Tommy, Denny and Abe were getting dressed to fell trees, and though he didn’t remark on it, I could tell Abe was right proud of his new clothes, even though they were only hand-me-downs.
“Abe asked my Johnny why he wasn’t dressing too. Well it was Johnny’s turn—he just chirked right up. Figure he ain’t had no Pa for two years now, just two older sisters and his Mama. I was plumb worried the boy might develop buds, breathing the same air as all us girls as much as he was. Johnny got his winters on right quick. ‘Best get enough for a proper bed for the three girls,’ I told them.
“Abe, Tommy and Denny walked along into the woods with axes on their shoulders, little John hopping alongside. They gave him a branch hacksaw, which he swung freely. A wonder to me that men don’t lose more limbs.
“That left us womenfolk free a men to get the cabin properly settled. First thing we done is move the table. I’d brung a hickory table and set of real chairs, not the three legged puncheon stools them poor Lincolns were setting on afore we arrived. I filled it up that little cabin with dishes, proper utensils, and feather beds and pillers, quilts and homespun blankets. I’d brung crate after crate of housewares and home goods from the wagon that could make a frontier cabin ever so much more comfortable, and I meant to use it all. This here black walnut bureau was a wedding present from all my many brothers and sisters, for me an Danny, living the high life with a $45 bureau.
“Tom and the boys brought back enough lumber to build beds for the chillern and make the floor for the cabin. That second night we settled in and Tommy led us in prayers and then we ate in tuckered out silence. First good meal those children had had since Nancy died, and I know they must a ben glad to be done with boiled squirrels. Afore we gone our ways I ask for clasped hands, and there wasn’t any resistance
among any of them. Maybe they were too warn thin to resist anything just then!
Back in my stuck-up days in Liztown, my Mama forced me to pray, but no matter how many times I repeated her prayer, nothing much changed. It stuck with me like a scar at first, finally just stuck with me. She seen me learn it from hard living before she passed to the Lord’s loving arms.
“We gathered round. I made sure not to reach for Abe, so it was quite a sight to see his hand reaching for mine. We were clung tight, Mr. Herndon. So I says my Mama’s prayer just then, with Abe’s hand grasping my hand, and I couldn’t a clung to him tighter if he was a babe dangling over a rough river:
He prayeth best who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God that loveth us,
He made and loveth all.”
“It wasn’t long afore Tom had a floor put in and whipsawed and planed off so I could scour it. We cleaned up the cabin nice, and chink the ceiling so it no longer drip on them boys while they slept.”
Here the old lady rocked in her chair briefly before dozing off to sleep. On the table beside her are four books she brought from Kentucky. With Chapman’s permission, I seized the opportunity to peruse their contents. They were: Robinson Crusoe, The Arabian Nights, Webster’s Speller and Lessons in Elocution by William Scott. After review Writer concludes excerpts of Scott’s text worthy of transcription:
Inscribed in the title page are the words, “Purchased by Isaac Bush at Bleakley and Montgomery store in Elizabethtown, Kaintuck. May 27, 1806.”
Page 36 “Eight requirements for a Polished Speaker:”
Let your articulation be Distinct and Deliberate.
Let your pronunciation be Bold and Forcible.
Acquire a compass and variety in the Height of your voice.
Pronounce your words with propriety and elegance.
Pronounce every word consisting of more than one syllablewith its proper accent.
In every Sentence distinguish the more significant words by a natural, forcible and varied emphasis.
Acquire a just variety of Pause and Cadence.
Accompany the Emotions and Passions which your words express by correspondent tone, looks, and gestures.
Pages 55-91 were devoted to “Elements of Gesture,” including drawings showing the correct positions of the body in speaking, with special attention to the hands and feet when gesturing. The remainder of the volume is devoted to “Lessons in Reading,” beginning with, “Select Sentences.” Examples Given:
“You must love learning, if you would possess it.” knox
“Whatever you pursue, be emulous to excel.” blair
Following these pithy sayings are selections from the world’s great literature, a treasure trove of readings, and likely Mr. L’s introduction to Shakespeare, a lifelong love for him.
Sarah awoke refreshed and rejuvenated, and inquired what I held in my hands.
“These books were Mr. Lincoln’s, were they not?” I asked, and when she nodded, I added, “He loved reading, did he not?”
“Oh, he did, indeed. Abe didn’t like physical labor but was diligent for knowledge. Seem like he wanted to know everything about everything and I used to tell Tom if pains and labor would get it, then Abe was sure to get it. He read all the books he could lay his hands on. I can’t remember dates nor names, I am about seventy-five years of age. Abe read the Bible some, though not as much as has been said. He sought more congenial books, suitable for his age.
“Nancy taught Abe how to read and write. Folks from miles around knew he was powerful smart. He’d write letters for people when he wasn’t but eight. That was all Nancy’s teaching. I didn’t have no education myself, but I know’d what learning could do for folks.
“I wasn’t in Indiana very long afore I found out how Abe hankered after books. ‘Mama’—which he eventually got round to calling me—‘Mama,’ he’d say, ‘the things I want to know is in books. My best friend’s the man who’ll git me one.’ Well, books wasn’t as plenty as wildcats, but I got him a few—had them in one of them trunks Tommy wanted me to leave in the wilderness to rot when we were journeying to the Lincoln homestead. I had one book that had a lot of yarns in it. One I recollect was about a feller that got near some darned fool rocks that drawed all the nails out of his boat and he got a duckin’. Wasn’t a blamed bit of sense in that yarn. Well, I reckon, but I ain’t no scholar.
“Abe’d lay on his stomach by the fire and read out loud. We’d laugh, though I reckon it went in at one ear and out at the other most times. Tom’d come in and say, ‘See here, Abe. Your mammy kain’t work with you a bothering her like that.’ But I always said it didn’t bother me none, and I’d tell Abe to go on. I reckon that encouraged Abe a heap.
“Denny says many a time, ‘Abe, them yarns is all lies.’”
“‘Mighty darned good lies,’ Abe’d say right back, and go on reading and a chuckling to himself, up til Tom’d kiver up the fire for the night and shoo him off to bed.
“I reckon Abe read that Robinson Crusoe book a dozen times, and know’d them yarns by heart. We’d git hold of a newspaper once in a while, and Abe’d learn Henry Clay’s speeches. He liked the stories in the Bible, too, and he got a little book of fables somewheres. I reckon it was them stories he read that give him so many yarns to tell. I asked him once after he’d gone to lawing iffin he could make a jury laugh or cry by firing a yarn at them.
“‘Mama,’ says Abe, ‘when a story learns you a good lesson, it’s more than a yarn. God tells truths in parables. They’re easier for common folks to understand and recollect.’ His stories were like that. If a man’d been doing anything low down, Abe’d make him feel meaner than a suck-egg dog about it.
“Seems to me now I never seen Abe, after he was twelve, that he didn’t have a book somewheres around. He’d put a book inside his shirt and fill his pants pockets with corn dodgers, and go off to plow or hoe. When noon come he’d set down under a tree, and read and eat. When he come to the house at night, he would tilt a chair back by the chimney, put his feet on the rung, and set on his backbone and read. I always put a candle on the mantelpiece for him, if I had one. And like as not, Abe would eat his supper there, taking anything I’d give him that he could gnaw at and read at the same time.
“I’ve seen many a feller come in and look at him, Abe not knowing anybody was around, and sneak out again like a cat, and say, ‘Well, I’ll be darned!’ It didn’t seem natural, no how, to see a feller read like that. I never let the chillern pester him. I always said Abe was going to be a great man some day and I wasn’t going to have him hindered.”
Colonel Chapman came in then, to help Mrs. Lincoln to the table. “Mr. Herndon, we’d be pleased to have you take the midday meal with us.”
“And I am most honored to accept your kind invitation, sir.”
Mrs. Lincoln rose and took Col. Chapman’s arm. I followed them through a narrow corridor that connected the two cabins. After a few steps with assistance Sarah walked on her own.
Standing nearly six feet tall, her frame unbent by time and her posture upright, her steps were sure and steady as we walked into the kitchen where her daughter Tildy was preparing. The room was brightened by the flame fully engulfing the bubbling kettle of blessed sustenance. At the center of the square single cabin was a circular table - set round with five places.
“I hope you will enjoy simple country fare, Mr. Herndon,” Tildy welcomed me with a smile.
“It smells delicious,” I observed.
She blushed modestly, “Venison, Mr. Herndon, Denny shoot it fresh just yesterday. I cook it with a bit of ham and a few herbs from the garden. My Mama taught me long ago about layering the pot with the meat on the bottom and the herbs and taters and carrots on top, let all them flavor seep through.” Mrs. Lincoln seemed charmed at the compliment, and a tinge tearful. Tildy invited us to take our places at the table.
Sarah was seated on my left. She asked if I would like her to repeat the
prayer Tommy led before the Lincolns would gather for a meal. I enthusiastically agreed to her suggestion. Hands clasped, we said it in unison:
“Fit and prepare us for humble service, for the sake of Christ.”
Ate dinner with her—sat on my west side—left arm—ate a good hearty dinner she did—stared at the kettle in silence. Mrs. Lincoln began again:
“First sign of spring, most a the settlers on Pigeon Creek was flocking to the giant kittles. The maple sap began to run and it was a good excuse for gathering after winter. Sugar camp we call it. Was a big event, it was then. Boys and girls had an excuse to sit together at night. Troubles run off from there. We kept the fire burning steadily and when the sap was boiled down, the stock was molded into hearts and stored in great jars.
“The men were off with jars a their own. Jugs with names like Black Betty got passed around plenty. Tommy would stay clear, being Hard Shell Baptist. Whiskey loosens jaws and plenty quick the men were yippin, all afire about this new state coming in, calling it Missouri. Was it coming in a Slaving state like Kaintuck, or Free as Indiana? Most of them men were Kaintuck like Tommy and me, living in Pigeon Creek to git away from slaving. The cheap government land titles were a draw too, Tommy say. But he couldn’t git ahead nohow in Kaintuck, bidding against slave labor. There wasn’t one thing Tommy liked about slaving, not in Kaintuck, Indiana, or this new Missouri.
“I was pleased as warm spice for the distraction of them men crowing back and forth. Men caw out for fools to hear. Them women were more like serpents - whispering serpents. I heard the hiss that Nancy ain’t yet cold, and here Tommy been married again. They couldn’t much know me so I took their words to mean they missed Nancy, figure we were more alike than they knew. Foolish to poke around a skunk, living to spray that stink as they are.