That Nation Might Live: One Afternoon with Lincoln’s Stepmother Page 5

  “Tom said it was a waste of time but Nancy kept urging Abe to study. ‘Abe,’ she’d say, ‘you learn all you can, and be of some account.’ And she’d tell him stories about George Washington, and said that the good Virginny blood Abe had in him was just as good as Washington’s blood. Maybe she stretched things some, but it done Abe good. Nancy was never far when Abe was around. Abe and his mother are in Heaven I have no doubt, and I want to go there, go where they are. God bless Nancy.”

  Here the old lady stopped—turned around & cried—wiped her eyes. Compassion overtook me and seeing that Mrs. L. needed comfort, I extended my hand to her, which she received graciously. I offered up a short prayer:

  The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away.

  His judgments are true and righteous altogether.

  Blessed be the name of the Lord.

  Mrs. Lincoln continued:

  “Abe sent a letter to Parson David Elkins in Kaintuck, asking him to come and preach a memorial service for his Ma. I wasn’t there that day of course, but I seen Parson Elkins back in Kaintuck. He’s a right fine preacher. His words could be heard clearly from a quarter mile away. Happened one Sunday morning. Elkins came over to Indiana, about one year after they laid Nancy to rest. Preached a funeral sermon. Settlers all round assembled, some ride horseback a hundred wilderness miles. Folks stood about the Lincoln cabin, and from there proceeded to the tree beneath which Nancy’s body was laid to rest. There stood the old minister, the lonely husband, and the two motherless children.

  “That was November of 1819, so it wasn’t long after that Tom lit out for Kaintuck. Abe told me later they know’d that his Pa went to get a new wife, but they didn’t think he’d have any luck being as poor as he was, and with two children to raise. Abe didn’t count on a danged fool such as myself!

  Back in my childhood,

  the earliest days of my being able to read,

  I got hold of a small book,

  ‘Weem’s Life of Washington.’

  I remember all the accounts there given of the battle fields

  and struggles for the liberties of the country,

  and none fixed themselves upon my imagination so deeply

  as the struggle at Trenton, New-Jersey.

  The crossing of the river;

  the contest with the Hessians;

  the great hardships endured at that time,

  all fixed themselves on my memory more than any single revolutionary event;

  I recollect thinking then, boy even though I was,

  that there must have been something more than common that those men struggled for.

  4

  More than Common

  “With a bit of charcoal Abe took to writing on the puncheon floor, fence rails - he would even scrape clean the wooden fire shovel at times. I got paper in Gentryville, and Denny made ink out of blackberry briar root. Kind of ornery ink that was. Denny got so he could cut good pens out of turkey buzzard quills. It pestered Tom a heap to have Abe writing all over everything thataway, but Abe was just wrapped up in it. If he wasn’t reading he was writing. Tom got mad at his marking the house up so Abe took to marking trees that Tom wanted to cut down.

  “Once Abe wrote his name for me in the sand at the deer lick. ‘Mama,’ he says, ‘that’s Abraham Lincoln. Look at that, will ya? That stands for me. Don’t look a blamed bit like me!’”

  The old lady is amused—further apologies for her meandering monologue. She continued:

  “Betsy and Dennis off on their own seem to hasten romance. Sairy married Aaron Grigsby and moved into a cabin two miles south of Tommy and me. Grigsby’s were a right prominent family in the area. The wedding was joyful. Abe wrote a poem for his sister on the occasion. Colonel Chapman’ll get it for ya if you want it write it down. Figuring as much with you scratching that paper with your pen as you are, no doubt wasting daylight on a bumfuzzled old lady’s memories.”

  Abraham Lincoln recited this poem at his sister’s wedding in 1826 under the title, Adam and Eve’s Wedding Song (W.H.H.).

  When Adam was created, he dwelt in Eden’s shade,

  As Moses has related, before a bride was made,

  Ten thousand times ten thousand of creatures swarmed around,

  Before a bride was formed, or any mate was found.

  He had no consolation, but seemed as one alone,

  Till, to his admiration, he found he’d lost a bone,

  This woman was not taken from Adam’s head, we know;

  And she must not rule over him, ’tis evidently so.

  This woman was not taken from Adam’s feet, we see;

  And she must not be abused, the meaning seems to be.

  This woman, she was taken from under Adam’s arm;

  And she must be protected from injury and harm.

  This woman, she was taken from near to Adam’s heart,

  By which we are directed that they should never part.

  To you, most loving bridegroom, to you most loving bride,

  Be sure you live a Christian and for your house provide.

  Avoiding all discontent, don’t sow the seed of strife,

  As is the solemn duty of every man and wife.

  During the interim of the above transcription, an aggrieved infant is brought to Tildy, a stop short of the arms of Granmarm Lincoln. There placed, the tender babe felt the sureness of her hold, ratcheting down from her exhortions to the deep inhale/exhale of peaceful slumber. Mrs. Lincoln continues, babe in arms:

  “This here little lady come to us on account of my Matilda here. She become the bride of a Mr. Squire Hall. They give me eight grandchillern, mostly more beautiful girls. By juckies, grandbabies got old enough to bring on their babes for Granmarm. The Good Lord mussin be in no hurry for my troubles!

  “After these mess makers done their magic, life ain’t so free. Young love come along once. Didn’t see much of my girls after they were married and gone. Abe was in his books. Poor John D. was the last one to seed off and blow away. With their hunting and fishing, John D. was right attached to Tommy. They were like blood kin, same way me and Abe seem blood kin. Tommy and Johnny were both whittling types - countryside was full of them. I reckon Abe being that near to both of them put them down some, though neither would fess to it. They’d die sooner than say so.

  “I’m sorry to say John D. fell right up close to the trunk of the Daniel Johnston tree. I tried to speak to Johnny, Mr. Herndon, tried to get him thinking. There wasn’t much supposing sometimes with him. He was born tired just like his Pa, and willing to walk a country mile to avoid ten feet of honest work. But I tried all I could and then done it all over again, usually managing to make matters worse when Johnny couldn’t stomach his medicine.

  “We saw little of Abe round bout the time he got hold of Parson Weem’s story of General George. Abe got hold of that book by way of a neighbor, a Mr. Josiah Crawford.”

  Here I informed Mrs. Lincoln I have a deposition scheduled with the widow of the same Josiah Crawford—further east in Indiana.

  “Mrs. Crawford was right saintly, Mr. Herndon. Sairy was the the maid of all work for her. Mrs. Crawford seen to Sairy as a Mama does. Abe was employed by the Crawfords at the same time. Them two was prone to follow the other it seem, bonded from Abe’s first breath. I reckon still what they whispered about as young’uns pretending to be sleeping, as young’uns do. Now ‘afore I get too lost, having you to remind me of my thoughts, I’ll say Abe’s first business in Crawford’s employ was daubing the cabin, which was built of unhewn logs with the bark still on. In the loft of this house Abe slept for many weeks at a time, finished by his own hands. Spent his evenings as he did at home, with pages out of books.

  “Mr. Crawford, for the love a truth, was most a time rough as a cow’s tongue. Abe come to change Josiah Crawford’s name to Old Blue Nose. That man was powerful peculiar in his looks. Abe wasn’t for him, but would tolerate just about anything for them books. Long ago Abe tired of getting his miserable wages docked whenever
he happened to lose a few minutes a steady work. Abe’s pay as I can recall it was twenty five cents a day. For Crawford’s books he’s put up with about anything. Finally he got the gumption to ask Mr. Crawford if he could borrow a book in particular.

  “So it was that Old Blue Nose let Abe borrow Parson Weem’s Life of Washington. Crawford browbeat him purty good about taking care of it afore he finally done his kindness. Walking home with that book tight under his arm, Abe was happy as pig in warm mud, read this book far into the night and tucked it into a chink between the logs in the wall afore falling asleep. Pick it back up soon as the Good Lord opened his eyes again. Went on like that for some time.

  “Come a driving rainstorm one night and soaked the mortar through to General George. Mr. Herndon, when Abe showed me his book it looked like he gone dipped his face in snow, my boy was white with fear. Powerful despaired at the thought of facing Old Blue Nose over it. He asked my counsel, I said there wasn’t much else to do but make a clean airing of the affair, for he couldn’t bring it back. Truth was, Mr. Josiah Crawford was the kind a man who’d skin a flea for its hide, and I reckoned Abe was in for tongue whacking. I said to Abe generally as these go, it done more punishment fretting silly over it than the whacking itself. Best to just git, be over and done.

  “Abe said he come up to the Crawford house presenting a sorry appearance generally. He proceeded to untie the handkerchief in which the source of his distressing lay. Abe lay it down, said he couldn’t hear his voice over his pounding heart! Somehow he eek out the words bout how the rain beat in and wet it through and it is spiled (Writer ascertains, “spoiled.”) Abe expressed his regrets, was very sorry indeed.

  “Crawford didn’t spare Abe no kindness nor grace a’tall. He took the bark clear off the tree on poor Abe. But the damage was done. Having no money, Abe offered pay back in work and Crawford put him to stripping leaves off the corn for cattle fodder, for three days. Abe give him the book back, but Crawford plague Abe, suggesting it was naught more than kindling now. Flung it back at Abe and urged him to use it for tinder. Book in hand, Abe turned and just run away. Told his yarn soon as he come a-loping home. He throwed his legs over the top a that split rail fence. When his foot seem to just touch the good earth beneath he was already firing his yarn. Abe was done with Old Blue Nose thereafter, but he owned his first book out of it!

  The time come when Abe got his revenge for all the petty brutality from Old Blue Nose. Abe levelled his attacks in rhyme and chronicle and gave Old Blue Nose fame as wide as to the Wabash and the Ohio. When it left our cabin, it traveled as far as it did and come all the way back, it begun to peck at me some. I stir up hell with a long spoon over it, made it clear to Abe that I didn’t like he used his gifts and done harm with them. Though I can say what scarcely one woman, especially a mother, has said a thousand times over, and it is this: Abe never gave me a cross word or look and never refused in fact, or even in appearance, to do anything I requested him. He was dutiful to me always, he loved me truly I think, so he done his best to stifle his rhymes about Old Blue Nose. Mostly it wasn’t no use, even Abe couldn’t unring a bell.

  “Was a spectacle to see Abe when he was not eyeing his treasure a pages. I’d ask him to explain all about his book. Was the only way I was to hear his voice it seemed. I’d concoct somewheres in my fool head a question such like, ‘I always heard that Washington made them redcoats run for life. Why were they called redcoats?’ Abe said it was because they wore coats of that color. I expect that they looked splendid, though they likely didn’t feel very splendid after they got whupped. One night as we set by the fire, I wanted to hear my boy speak his thoughts, so I fire a question at Abe about why the Revolutionary soldiers would march ragged such they leave bloody footprints in snow, and I said to Abe, ‘Such privations! They’d been better off not fighting a’tall I reckon.’”

  “Well, that lit quite a fire under Abe. He spoke with a look like fury in his eyes, saying there was a cause far greater than comfort. My dear boy spoke of the greater part of Christendom as a mess of horrors, of bloody wars atween kings and queens. Spoke of the mass of people crushed to the earth with a bayonet right under them. Garments of their children soaked in blood. I can recite his words he said them nuff and I turn them over in my memory nuff. Would you like me to recite, Mr. Herndon?”

  Rewarded for my encouragement – the old woman stands without assistance, returns the sleeping babe to Tildy – speaks:

  “And here, merciful God! What scenes are rising before the eyes of horror-struck imagination? Mamas mute with grief, and looking through swelling tears on their boys, as they gird on the hated swords—shaking with strong fits, and, with their little children, filling their houses with lamentations for tearing themselves away for the dismal war, whence they are to return no more!” (Mrs. Lincoln returns to her chair)

  “I known right then, Mr. Herndon. Abe was going to be a great man some day. I never let the children pester him; wasn’t to have him hindered.”

  Mrs. Lincoln requests Chapman retrieve Abe’s copy of Weem’s Life of Washington. Upon inspection I asked Mrs. L. if she would permit me to transcribe a portion. My question unanswered, I discover she sleeps now. My attention is focused upon a passage underscored by the famous stepson of present company, the faded lines beneath the text are my guide. It reads:

  “Hear the voice of the Divine Founder of your republic from the lips of his servant Washington. Above all things hold dear your national union.

  Accustom yourselves to estimate its immense, its infinite value to your individual and national happiness. Look on it as the palladium of your tranquility at home; of your peace abroad; of your safety; of your prosperity; and even of that very liberty which you so highly prize!

  To this you are bound by every tie of gratitude and love to God or man. The eyes of long oppressed humanity are now looking up to you as to her last hope; the whole world are anxious spectators of your trial; and with your behaviour at this crisis, not only your own, but the destiny of unborn millions is involved. Your triumph will be complete: and the pressure of the present difficulties, instead of weakening will give a firmer tone to the federal government, that shall probably immortalize the blessings of liberty to our children and children’s children.”

  The old woman awakened just as I scratched out the last few words, refreshed and, it seemed, renewed. Blinked her eyes rapidly, smiled in the direction of my voice, continued as though uninterrupted:

  “Abe come out from his pages when his sister Sairy got with child. We were but a few miles apart from the Grigsbys. Belonged to the same church, and our young’uns attended the same school. When our little Sairy wanted to marry Aaron Grigsby, was right natural. Aaron’s Pa was Mr. Reuben Grigsby. Aaron was the oldest of the sixteen; Borning sixteen chillern! Can you imagine that Mr. Herndon? His Ma and Pa made sure Aaron got good schooling. The Grigsbys regarded themselves as belonging to the ‘upper ten’ class, since they lived in a two-story, hewed-log house. Tommy liked to say they fancied themselves Princes of the Backwoods. They were good to Sairy is what I know’d.

  “Sairy never know’d her brother’s fame. She was buried with her babe in her arms in the Little Pigeon Baptist Church cemetery. Aaron ran for his parent’s house when Sairy begun borning - complications from the git. Eventually Sairy was loaded onto a sled and taken to the Grigsby home. A doctor and several midwives were finally called, but it was too late. Us Lincolns never know’d of it til she passed. Her child, a boy, was stillborn. I found Abe at the smokehouse soon as I got news of it, and when I told him he sat down in the doorway and buried his face in his hands. His frame shook with sobs and tears that slowly trickled from between his bony fingers as he cried.

  “‘They let her lay too long,’ was all the words he could muster.”

  At this, Mrs. Lincoln voice broke and she choked with feelings. She gathered herself, continued:

  “To my last day I will pine to be by Sairy’s side to comfort her. I felt like somewheres,
somehow, I let Nancy down.”

  What reserve of strength Mrs. L. relied upon to remain composed a moment ago has evaporated. She weeps freely.

  “Aaron loved Sairy, I know’d it and she know’d it. Maybe there was some blundering that night. I don’t see it for blaming. Tommy and Abe forged their grief into swords. The way they reckon it, the Grigsbys thought we Lincolns shouldn’t be consulted as we weren’t somehow worthy. I know’d it was torture for them, such a thing would peck at a person’s soul, longing for Sairy as they were. Course it was more memories of Nancy, and they were prone to fret about what might have been different. Walked round like they swallowed fire. The day Tommy died, God rest his Blessed soul, I was grateful he never learned in his living years that Sairy called for him the night she went, her and her babe. Good Lord a-Mighty, I wish’d I’d a never learned.

  “Time pass on with the hurt festering when it come up the Grigsbys were putting on a double wedding. Two of their sixteen plan to marry on a single day for quite an infare it seem, ‘ceptin we Lincoln’s weren’t invited. Tom and Abe seen it that the Grigsbys were expressing that Sairy was all gone. It burn them up plenty, and now they were ready to pick up them swords. Seem to confirm too that them Grigsbys were of a mind they’s better than us Lincolns. I wasn’t sure I could contain much of a thing. Was plumb sure the affair would blow clear to glory afore we were done with it. Dadgumit, I was scared for a coming murder trial! Sairy was cold in the grave so I stood Tommy and Abe both up with that, scolding them roundly and telling them I ain’t planning to bury either of them right next to her.

  “Abe’s only weapon then was a turkey buzzard quill. Put his poison on paper, same as he done to Josiah Crawford. He wrote up something awful, unmentionable, and right fine by me, for it didn’t involve a trigger. Though it was still for me to ride him some that it read like Psalm.”