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squelched things completely. Black lost his money and his time through the muss.

You refer me to Lamon, page 396, and ask if the paragraph is true or false. It is in all things substantially correct. In speaking of Douglas and the Charleston convention, and the divided state of the Democracy in 1859-60, Lincoln often said to me, and to others in my presence, substantially this: "The end is not yet, but another explosion must come in the near future. Douglas is a great man in his way and has quite unlimited power over the great mass of his party, especially in the North. If he goes to the Charleston convention, which he will do, he, in a spirit of revenge, will split the convention wide open and give it the devil; and right here is our future success, or rather the glad hope of it." By the way, Lincoln prayed for this state of affairs: he saw in it opportunity and wisely played his line. He studied the trend of political affairs, drew conclusions as to general results, and calmly bided his time. Lincoln was the great American thinker and the unknown at least to the mass of men. He felt that Douglas was the strong man and that he must be put out of the way, politically. He did not fear any man in the South. He was after Douglas, always scheming and planning.

May, 1890: You regret, as well as myself, that I sold my Mss. to Lamon. The reason why I did so was that I was then, in 1870-72, a poor devil and had to sell to live. From 1853 to 1865 I spent all my time and money for the "nigger," or rather for Liberty and the Union-lost my practice, went to farming, and went under in the crash of 18713, and that, too, from no speculations - vices, etc. Today I have to work for tomorrow's bread, and yet I am a happy and contented man. I own a little farm of 65 acres and raise fruits for a living. Now you have the reasons for my acts.

In reference to Lamon's book I can say truthfully that Chauncy F. Black, son of J. S. Black, wrote quite every word of it. I infer this much from Black himself. He used to write to me about it. The publishers struck out of it a whole chapter, or nearly so. The chapter, as I understand it, was on Buchanan's Administration, or rather the last year of it. I think that act, among others, created the split. I have for years been written to by various persons to know why Lamon was so much prejudiced against Lincoln. The bitterness, if any, was not in Lamon so much as

in Black, though I am convinced that Lamon was no solid, firm friend of Lincoln, especially during Lincoln's Administration, or the latter end of it.

Meanwhile he had received and read, with great delight, the chapter on the Lincoln-Douglas debates which Horace White wrote for the forthcoming edition of the biography. With a sure stroke he put his pen upon the excellent qualities of that essay, which is by far the best account ever written of that great campaign. What he liked best was its simple, unadorned style:

Friend, it is a fine piece and let me thank you a thousand times for it. I am glad that you followed the late historical methods. I like your treatment of Douglas. The fact is I once despised the man for his want of morals, but I have forgotten all this and only remember his good points, his energy and his genius. Your piece will be the best chapter in the life of Lincoln. I am glad that it is just what it is: it is exhaustive of the subject. You might have hammered it out and made it thinner and weaker, but no poetry, no adjectives, no superlatives would have done it any good. In your own opinion you did not reach your ideal, but that is natural. Our ideals are just an inch beyond our reach.

You hit Arnold a good lick: he was a credulous man without any critical ability at all; his book contains many errors, but it did not become me to say one word against Arnold's book. I helped him a good deal in his Life of Lincoln. Mr. Arnold is correct, however, when he states that Lincoln said, "I am fighting for bigger game." Lincoln made use of the expression. He was a shrewd, sagacious, cunning, farseeing man, and he purposely politically killed Douglas. I can see Lincoln now setting his stakes for that end.

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Yes, Lamon's book was a great failure. The materials of it richly deserve a better fate. I hope you will have a good time on your recreation spree. I wish I could trip it with you. White, are you getting rich? I am as poor as Job's turkey.

October, 1890: My ears are always open to my friends,

1 Mr. Herndon was not alone in his criticism of Mr. Arnold's Life of Lincoln, which, though an admirable book, slurred over the facts about Lincoln's youth. - Life of Lincoln, by J. T. Morse, p. 9 (1896). But Mr. Arnold was one of the few biographers of Lincoln who was just to Mr. Douglas, perhaps because they were old friends.

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and I wish all men would write to me as candidly as you have done. I will write to General Wilson and request him to burn my Lincoln letters to him. I have never opened to any person, except yourself and General Wilson, the story of Lincoln's history. My motives were good in doing as I did. I wished to throw light on the mysterious phases of his wonderful life. I loved Lincoln, and I thought the reading world wished all the lights I had. Hence the facts told in the biography and in private letters. I may have erred in the head, but my heart was right. I can tell from the ring of your words that friendship dictated every word of your advice, and I thank you. Give my highest regards to your wife and children.

November, 1890: I have received a letter from General Wilson in which he says: "I recognize the wisdom of your wishes and will destroy your letters." In my last let

ter I unintentionally touched a tender chord in your bosom. Excuse me. I have passed through the same and know what the loss of a good wife is. Friend, we can bring life into the world, but we cannot keep it here: it will vanish, we know not where, and this thing we call immortality, is it not a shadow of our egotism thrown into the future? It gratifies this little man to think that Nature takes providential care of him and destroys all else for the sake of him.

February, 1891: I am still diligently gathering wellauthenticated facts about Lincoln. Many I reject, because they are not in harmony with the fundamental elements of his nature, and because they come to me in unauthentic shapes. I expect to continue gathering facts about Lincoln as long as I live, and when I go hence the reading world shall have my Mss. unchanged, unaltered, just as I took them down. I think that they will be of value to mankind sometime. I have been at this business since 1865. Every day I think of some fact, and it suggests other facts. The human mind is a curious thing. I have been sick all winter. One month later, on March 14, 1891, Mr. Herndon died at his humble home on his farm five miles from Springfield, his last words being: "I have received my summons; I am an overripe sheaf; but I will take the weaker one with me" referring to his son, who died the same day. So passed an ardent, impetuous man of great native ability, radical of mind but lovable of soul; a strong man whose zeal often exceeded his wisdom, but whose charity was unfailing; a man of noble

integrity as a citizen, a lawyer, and a friend; unwilling to compromise truth, yet eager to give every man his due. He has been cruelly misjudged, if not foully belied, but all this may be forgotten, for he has passed

"To where, beyond these voices, there is peace."

CHAPTER X

Herndon's Lincoln

Lincoln literature is enormous. To attain the rank of an expert in this field means years of toil, but one who is not an expert may hazard the opinion that, in spite of all that has been written, we yet lack a thoroughly satisfactory book about the life and work and character of Lincoln.1 Some few have had the necessary knowledge and sympathy, but their literary power was inadequate. Others have written well, but they have failed of understanding. Many of the books about Lincoln are worthless, some are valuable, a few are notable, but an adequate record and estimate of that remarkable man is among the things awaited. So far no writer of the first order has attempted to recite that strange yet simple story. No one has done for Lincoln what Morley did for Gladstone, either because we have so few literary statesmen, or because the time has not arrived.

In the meantime the volume of facts, impressions, and reminiscences of Lincoln increases, and through an assembling of items in a variety of ways we are coming to a composite conception of the man that is at once vivid and satisfying. That so many have written of him is a tribute to his hold upon the affections of men, for it has not fallen to his lot to become

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1 Perhaps the mass of Lincoln literature would number 5,000 items, which of course includes many pamphlets a veritable paradise for collectors. Lincoln in 1854, by Horace White, pp. 22-3 (1908). What is here said is not intended to belittle any biographer or student of Lincoln, but surely no one will claim that the final biography of him has been written. Probably the best brief biographies are those by Hapgood, Morse, and Binns, in the order named. It is matter for regret that Henry Watterson did not finish his biography of Lincoln, which no doubt would have been a memorable volume. He had gone abroad to write it, but was called home by the exigences of the campaign of 1896.

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