He visited A. L. so frequently for patronage matters "that the President once claimed that he looked underneath his bed each night to check if Senator Harris was there, seeking another patronage favor".
(O-source: Glyndon Van Deusen: "Thurlow Weed: Wizard of the Lobby")

(06-16-2014 06:18 PM)Hess1865 Wrote:  Mrs Grant and MTL did not get along at all-but we knew that.
Plus the General was the ultimate 'family man', and loved to spend as much time with them as he could. His love for Julia was beyond good, it was great.
So those are really the only reasons the Grants didn't go to the theater that night.
Plus I'm sure Julia wanted to get away from MTL ASAP!

Just curious if anyone has an opinion on a question I have. The Grants and Stantons were by no means alone in not accepting the invitation to see Our American Cousin with the Lincolns.

Did a presidential invitation mean less in those days than now?

Assuming Lincoln: An Illustrated Biography by Philip B. Kunhardt, Jr., Philip B. Kunhardt III, and Peter W. Kunhardt is accurate, 14 people turned down the Lincolns' theater invitation. I am looking at p. 347 in that book as I write this. Some of the "excuses" seem "thin" to me. For example, Noah Brooks refused the invitation because he had a cold. Mr. and Mrs. William H. Wallace "pleaded weariness." Two friends of Lincoln's, Illinois Governor Richard Oglesby and ex-Governor Richard Yates, turned down the invitation in order to meet other friends.

So I am curious: Did a presidential invitation mean less in those days than now?

My personal view is that if the President of the United States somehow asked me to go to the theater, a ballgame, etc. I simply cannot comprehend saying "no" because I had a cold.

Don't forget that it was also Good Friday and on very short notice. The Catholic Marquis de Chambrun declined to accept for religious reasons from what I have read.

I had no idea that the Wallaces were even in town. This is the first I have read that.

Hi Toia. I think this is a different William Wallace from the one you are most likely thinking of (Mary's brother-in-law). This William Wallace served as governor and Congressional delegate from both Washington Territory and Idaho Territory.

I can't say for sure, but I do believe that protocol was quite different then than it is now. Toia made a good point about it being Good Friday and someone mentioned Stanton's not favoring the theater trips throughout the war.

I would also suspect that the play had been around and around for years and was not that thrilling to folks anymore. Might we also surmise that the Washington social scene was weary from the celebrating that had been going on for five days and nights? The thought of venturing forth into drunken street crowds would turn me off. A quiet evening at home would be preferable.

(06-19-2014 12:51 PM)RJNorton Wrote:  Hi Toia. I think this is a different William Wallace from the one you are most likely thinking of (Mary's brother-in-law). This William Wallace served as governor and Congressional delegate from both Washington Territory and Idaho Territory.

Okay...thanks Roger. I have read almost everything in print about the assassination and I had never read that AL's Wallace in-laws were in the Capitol that fateful week.

Your explanation clears things up nicely.

The persons who turned down the invitation were sort of "colleagues" for whom meeting the president was not unusual but (daily) business, not a unique opportunity (at all, unlike today, the president was during his office hours accessible for everyone). Plus Abraham Lincoln AFAIK frequently, also at last minute, asked for company. Plus then like nowadays, I guess theater wasn't everyone's cup of tea.

That's right Eva E. Grant had been to the theater with Lincoln as late as March by the way. I guess it just wasn't considered that big a deal among colleagues and friends who had visited the theater with him in the past.

(06-01-2014 03:23 PM)LincolnToddFan Wrote:  Hi Roger, so good to have the voice of reason weigh in!

I think it depends on how we define the term "nervous breakdown". As a layman I have always understood it to be a period of acute emotional, psychological and physical incapacitation.

I went online and here is the official definition:

http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-condi...q-20057830

Many Lincoln scholars have attributed two nervous breakdowns to AL, in 1835 and in 1841. But if we go by the strict medical definition of the term, he suffered only one and that is the 1841 crisis after the breaking of his engagement to Mary Todd.

I concur with your opinion.The "breakdown" of 1835 was in reality a period of deep, intense grief that did not affect his ability to function normally. What happened in 1841 was so severe as to not only interrupt his life significantly, it required medical attention and a period of prolonged recuperation out of state.

ETA: I have never read about a breakdown of any kind happening in 1836. The idea that he ever had a nervous breakdown at all after Ann's death is the result of an oral and written tradition that began with the Herndon lectures of 1866...how Lincoln's mind "wandered from it's throne" for example, and it has been embellished ever since by Lincoln scholars and students who want to believe in the romantic myth that this great, resourceful leader was somehow undone by the tragic loss of his first love.

Dear RJ Norton and LincolnToddFan,

The idea that Lincoln had a mental breakdown in 1836 is almost certainly a mistaken reference to travails he experienced in August and September of 1835. What happened during that time? Many historians have accepted Herndon's conclusion that Lincoln grieved deeply for Ann Rutledge, who died on August 25, probably of typhus. But that conclusion has had its ups and downs. In 1945, for example, the great Lincolnist J. G. Randall demolished the Rutledge-grief story in a celebrated essay. In 1990, however, the story made a remarkable scholarly comeback. Here probably isn't the place to get too detailed about this saga. But I'd like to share something that might be of interest. Herndon by his own account first heard the story of Lincoln's grief for Ann Rutledge shortly after the assassination, which is to say, almost thirty years after Ann died. This is noteworthy for a number of reasons. Herndon had personally known Ann. He'd known her father, with whom his own father had had business dealings. Indeed, relatives of Herndon's were living in New Salem at the time of Ann's death. But oddly enough, Herndon had never heard of Lincoln's love for Ann until May 1865, when he launched his investigation into Lincoln's early life. Why is this odd? Herndon since boyhood had taken a great interest in local politics. He'd followed Lincoln's career from the early days of his election in New Salem to the state legislature in Vandalia. Herndon certainly had joined in the celebrations following Lincoln's great coup in Vandalia, which involved moving the Illinois state capital from that town to Springfield, where Herndon lived. In short, Herndon grew up with first-hand knowledge of Lincoln's life in New Salem. Why then had Herndon never heard of Lincoln's love for Ann and his extreme distress when she died? I'm writing a book that will discuss that question. I'd be happy to talk about it here, but for now will close with this: Herndon's "great discovery" about Lincoln's tragic love affair looks mighty funny from the very beginning. It's worth keeping in mind that New Salem was a tiny village, and nearby Springfield was a dusty little market town. Gossip moves fast in such locales. Why did it take Herndon thirty years to learn about a pivotal episode in his hero's youth? Yes, it's true that John Hill in 1862 published a story in the Menard Axis about Lincoln falling desperately in love with a fair maiden who tragically died, which plunged Lincoln into such despair that it alarmed his friends. And it's true that several New Salem oldtimers told Herndon that Lincoln collapsed after Ann died. But somehow, Herndon never before had heard these stories. Well, what of it? Maybe he just wasn't paying attention or something. No, that simply doesn't wash. Something else was going on. Suffice it to say: devious Herndon. At the risk of seeming immodest I'll point out that, to my knowledge, this particular angle on the genesis of the Ann Rutledge story makes its public debut here.

Great thoughts! Since I have already decided that I don't like Mr. Herndon, this adds one more thing to my list. A concocted story designed to strike out at Mary Lincoln yet again???

Hi Lewis-

Wow..I am floored. This is the first time I have heard or read that Herndon knew Ann Rutledge personally...fascinating.

Like Laurie, I don't like Herndon. In fact I loathe him. He sounded like a vicious, cruel bully. His comments about Mary possibly having something to do with the deaths of her own children have also implanted the idea in my mind that he was psychologically unbalanced due to years of alcohol abuse.

I am surprised that AL had a friend like this man. I wonder what Lincoln would have had to say about "Billy's" post-assassination treatment of his widow?

(06-24-2014 12:06 AM)Lewis Gannett Wrote:  

(06-01-2014 03:23 PM)LincolnToddFan Wrote:  Hi Roger, so good to have the voice of reason weigh in!

I think it depends on how we define the term "nervous breakdown". As a layman I have always understood it to be a period of acute emotional, psychological and physical incapacitation.

I went online and here is the official definition:

http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-condi...q-20057830

Many Lincoln scholars have attributed two nervous breakdowns to AL, in 1835 and in 1841. But if we go by the strict medical definition of the term, he suffered only one and that is the 1841 crisis after the breaking of his engagement to Mary Todd.

I concur with your opinion.The "breakdown" of 1835 was in reality a period of deep, intense grief that did not affect his ability to function normally. What happened in 1841 was so severe as to not only interrupt his life significantly, it required medical attention and a period of prolonged recuperation out of state.

ETA: I have never read about a breakdown of any kind happening in 1836. The idea that he ever had a nervous breakdown at all after Ann's death is the result of an oral and written tradition that began with the Herndon lectures of 1866...how Lincoln's mind "wandered from it's throne" for example, and it has been embellished ever since by Lincoln scholars and students who want to believe in the romantic myth that this great, resourceful leader was somehow undone by the tragic loss of his first love.

Dear RJ Norton and LincolnToddFan,

The idea that Lincoln had a mental breakdown in 1836 is almost certainly a mistaken reference to travails he experienced in August and September of 1835. What happened during that time? Many historians have accepted Herndon's conclusion that Lincoln grieved deeply for Ann Rutledge, who died on August 25, probably of typhus. But that conclusion has had its ups and downs. In 1945, for example, the great Lincolnist J. G. Randall demolished the Rutledge-grief story in a celebrated essay. In 1990, however, the story made a remarkable scholarly comeback. Here probably isn't the place to get too detailed about this saga. But I'd like to share something that might be of interest. Herndon by his own account first heard the story of Lincoln's grief for Ann Rutledge shortly after the assassination, which is to say, almost thirty years after Ann died. This is noteworthy for a number of reasons. Herndon had personally known Ann. He'd known her father, with whom his own father had had business dealings. Indeed, relatives of Herndon's were living in New Salem at the time of Ann's death. But oddly enough, Herndon had never heard of Lincoln's love for Ann until May 1865, when he launched his investigation into Lincoln's early life. Why is this odd? Herndon since boyhood had taken a great interest in local politics. He'd followed Lincoln's career from the early days of his election in New Salem to the state legislature in Vandalia. Herndon certainly had joined in the celebrations following Lincoln's great coup in Vandalia, which involved moving the Illinois state capital from that town to Springfield, where Herndon lived. In short, Herndon grew up with first-hand knowledge of Lincoln's life in New Salem. Why then had Herndon never heard of Lincoln's love for Ann and his extreme distress when she died? I'm writing a book that will discuss that question. I'd be happy to talk about it here, but for now will close with this: Herndon's "great discovery" about Lincoln's tragic love affair looks mighty funny from the very beginning. It's worth keeping in mind that New Salem was a tiny village, and nearby Springfield was a dusty little market town. Gossip moves fast in such locales. Why did it take Herndon thirty years to learn about a pivotal episode in his hero's youth? Yes, it's true that John Hill in 1862 published a story in the Menard Axis about Lincoln falling desperately in love with a fair maiden who tragically died, which plunged Lincoln into such despair that it alarmed his friends. And it's true that several New Salem oldtimers told Herndon that Lincoln collapsed after Ann died. But somehow, Herndon never before had heard these stories. Well, what of it? Maybe he just wasn't paying attention or something. No, that simply doesn't wash. Something else was going on. Suffice it to say: devious Herndon. At the risk of seeming immodest I'll point out that, to my knowledge, this particular angle on the genesis of the Ann Rutledge story makes its public debut here.

I found two informative posts at the beginning of this thread dated August 1, 2012:

RJNorton
08-01-2012, 08:58 AM
I am also very curious about that 1862 article. Could the writer have talked to Isaac Cogdal? Lincoln is purported to admitted his love for Ann to Cogdal early in 1861.

Not everyone agrees with Cogdal's account. Dr. Clarence A. Tripp, well-known for his book on Lincoln's sexuality, has written, "Clearly Cogdal and his entire testimony reeks of deliberate fraud..."


Rob Wick
08-01-2012, 07:51 PM
A few years back, I was frequenting a website hosted by a friend named Sam Wheeler, who was a Ph.D student of John Y. Simon and later taught at Southern Illinois University before becoming a researcher for the Papers of Abraham Lincoln Project. Sam received an e-mail from a Lewis Gannett (whose grandfather, also named Lewis Gannett, wrote book reviews for the New York Herald-Tribune) asking if he would like him to discuss C.A. Tripp's book The Intimate World of Abraham Lincoln. After Tripp completed the manuscript, he died before it could be edited and published. Lewis was hired to finish the book. Sam, realizing what an opportunity it would be to have the man who completed one of the most talked about books of the day, immediately accepted.

One of Gannett's hobby-horses was Lincoln's romance with Ann Rutledge. Both he and Tripp have written articles on this for the Journal of the Abraham Lincoln Association. Here is what I wrote to Gannett.

Well, as promised, I finally have gone through all the relevant articles and passages concerning Ann Rutledge, including your article in JALA. With all due respect, neither Tripp nor your article made much difference in my opinions.
After careful consideration, I have to say that nothing has changed my view that 1) Lincoln and Ann had some type of romantic relationship and 2) even if they didn’t, it proves nothing toward Tripp’s thesis [that Lincoln was a homosexual].

Tripp’s chapter on Ann Rutledge is basically a simple rehash of the arguments offered by J.G. Randall and Paul Angle. He really gives us no new evidence or argument that hasn’t been heard before.

As to Tripp’s assertion that “Lincoln also had a long history of falling into extreme depressions for lesser reasons, or indeed for no apparent reason at all” there are only two times when it was said that Lincoln’s depression could called “extreme”—shortly after Ann died and after the “fatal first”. Most other times, the “hypo” was melancholia, not extreme depression.

As to the testimony of Isaac Cogdal, one has to ask why would Cogdal lie. While Cogdal may have embellished parts of his story by romanticizing his own wording, John Y. Simon argues forcefully that such things that Randall picked up on (calling Lincoln “Abe”) wasn’t out of the question. Contrary to Tripp’s assertion that Simon, Douglas Wilson or Michael Burlingame “have failed to answer or to honor Randall’s case on Cogdal” Simon not only answered it, he demolished it.

In my opinion the most important piece of evidence is the Menard Axis story.
I find it telling that neither you nor Tripp mentions it (although Tripp did in his JALA article on Cogdal—why leave it out of the book?). For those not familiar with it, here is the information taken from Simon’s JALA article:
“The Ann Rutledge canon was augmented in 1944 by the rediscovery of an 1862 article by John Hill, a Democrat contemptuous of Lincoln, in the Menard Axis, a county newspaper so obscure that the article had previously gone unremarked. The son of New Salem merchant Samuel Hill, partner of McNamar, and rival for Ann's affections, Hill wrote scornfully of young Lincoln as a ‘love-sick swain.’”

He chanced to meet with a lady, who to him seemed lovely, angelic, and the height of perfection. Forgetful of all things else, he could think or dream of naught but her. His feelings he soon made her acquainted with, and was delighted with a reciprocation. This to him was perfect happiness; and with uneasy anxiety he awaited the arrival of the day when the twain should be made one flesh.—But that day was doomed never to arrive. Disease came upon this lovely beauty, and she sickened and died. The youth had wrapped his heart with her's, and this was more than he could bear. He saw her to her grave, and as the cold clods fell upon the coffin, he sincerely wished that he too had been enclosed within it. Melancholy came upon him; he was changed and sad. His friends detected strange conduct and a flighty immagination.—They placed him under guard for fear of his commiting suicide.—New circumstances changed his thoughts, and at length he partially forgot that which had for a time consumed his mind.

This is independent confirmation three years before Herndon saw it. It seems amazing that many of the details are there, although Ann’s name wasn’t.

Sorry Lewis, but Tripp still strikes out with me.

Last I heard, Lewis was working on his Ph.D in history.

"Concocted" probably isn't quite right. Herndon's New Salem-era informants on Lincoln and Ann Rutledge didn't invent her early death (at age 21), and they didn't invent memories that Lincoln had behaved in an alarming fashion around the time of that death. John Hill, the author of the 1862 newspaper story mentioned above, also didn't invent either the death or Lincoln's alarming behavior. Ann DID die; Lincoln DID go off some kind of deep end. The question is, and always has been: in what way were those events connected? In a lecture delivered at Springfield's courthouse on Nov. 16, 1866, Herndon told the world (telegraphy sped the delivery of the news) that he had made an astonishing discovery. Lincoln had so loved Ann Rutledge--in the ardent, romantic sense--that her death drove him to the brink of insanity and haunted him for the rest of his days. This explained Lincoln's famous melancholy, Herndon claimed. Here lay the key to the great man's mysterious sense of sorrow. What a revelation! The martyr's lifelong burden, finally explained! Well then. How come it took Herndon so long to figure this out? And why did he figure it out only after Lincoln had died and couldn't confirm or deny the story's truth? This is where concoction enters the picture. If Lincoln had in fact loved Ann to the point of nearly losing his mind when she died, and if her death had forever stilled his heart, it's hard to believe that Herndon hadn't known it until brash young John Hill (a political enemy of Lincoln's) and a few aged survivors of long-defunct New Salem belatedly enlightened him. It's not just hard to believe: it's preposterous. So, why do some historians believe it? A very good question. But let's set that aside. I believe that history has, in general, greatly underestimated William H. Herndon. He knew what he was doing when he exploded his Rutledge bombshell--he called it a "countermine," by the way--that chilly November night in Springfield's courthouse. He was creating a giant distraction. From what? Put it this way. Did ANY hint of Lincoln love life survive Herndon's explosion? Well: not really. Not even Mary Todd survived the countermine's blast. The private Lincoln who emerged from Herndon's telling is the private Lincoln we more or less live with now: a lonely man who savored love just once, just briefly, in the vanished hamlet of old New Salem. How sad. But probably--in my opinion--how untrue. And even more interesting: how ingeniously untrue.

---

(06-24-2014 11:48 AM)David Lockmiller Wrote:  

(06-24-2014 12:06 AM)Lewis Gannett Wrote:  

(06-01-2014 03:23 PM)LincolnToddFan Wrote:  Hi Roger, so good to have the voice of reason weigh in!

I think it depends on how we define the term "nervous breakdown". As a layman I have always understood it to be a period of acute emotional, psychological and physical incapacitation.

I went online and here is the official definition:

http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-condi...q-20057830

Many Lincoln scholars have attributed two nervous breakdowns to AL, in 1835 and in 1841. But if we go by the strict medical definition of the term, he suffered only one and that is the 1841 crisis after the breaking of his engagement to Mary Todd.

I concur with your opinion.The "breakdown" of 1835 was in reality a period of deep, intense grief that did not affect his ability to function normally. What happened in 1841 was so severe as to not only interrupt his life significantly, it required medical attention and a period of prolonged recuperation out of state.

ETA: I have never read about a breakdown of any kind happening in 1836. The idea that he ever had a nervous breakdown at all after Ann's death is the result of an oral and written tradition that began with the Herndon lectures of 1866...how Lincoln's mind "wandered from it's throne" for example, and it has been embellished ever since by Lincoln scholars and students who want to believe in the romantic myth that this great, resourceful leader was somehow undone by the tragic loss of his first love.

Dear RJ Norton and LincolnToddFan,

The idea that Lincoln had a mental breakdown in 1836 is almost certainly a mistaken reference to travails he experienced in August and September of 1835. What happened during that time? Many historians have accepted Herndon's conclusion that Lincoln grieved deeply for Ann Rutledge, who died on August 25, probably of typhus. But that conclusion has had its ups and downs. In 1945, for example, the great Lincolnist J. G. Randall demolished the Rutledge-grief story in a celebrated essay. In 1990, however, the story made a remarkable scholarly comeback. Here probably isn't the place to get too detailed about this saga. But I'd like to share something that might be of interest. Herndon by his own account first heard the story of Lincoln's grief for Ann Rutledge shortly after the assassination, which is to say, almost thirty years after Ann died. This is noteworthy for a number of reasons. Herndon had personally known Ann. He'd known her father, with whom his own father had had business dealings. Indeed, relatives of Herndon's were living in New Salem at the time of Ann's death. But oddly enough, Herndon had never heard of Lincoln's love for Ann until May 1865, when he launched his investigation into Lincoln's early life. Why is this odd? Herndon since boyhood had taken a great interest in local politics. He'd followed Lincoln's career from the early days of his election in New Salem to the state legislature in Vandalia. Herndon certainly had joined in the celebrations following Lincoln's great coup in Vandalia, which involved moving the Illinois state capital from that town to Springfield, where Herndon lived. In short, Herndon grew up with first-hand knowledge of Lincoln's life in New Salem. Why then had Herndon never heard of Lincoln's love for Ann and his extreme distress when she died? I'm writing a book that will discuss that question. I'd be happy to talk about it here, but for now will close with this: Herndon's "great discovery" about Lincoln's tragic love affair looks mighty funny from the very beginning. It's worth keeping in mind that New Salem was a tiny village, and nearby Springfield was a dusty little market town. Gossip moves fast in such locales. Why did it take Herndon thirty years to learn about a pivotal episode in his hero's youth? Yes, it's true that John Hill in 1862 published a story in the Menard Axis about Lincoln falling desperately in love with a fair maiden who tragically died, which plunged Lincoln into such despair that it alarmed his friends. And it's true that several New Salem oldtimers told Herndon that Lincoln collapsed after Ann died. But somehow, Herndon never before had heard these stories. Well, what of it? Maybe he just wasn't paying attention or something. No, that simply doesn't wash. Something else was going on. Suffice it to say: devious Herndon. At the risk of seeming immodest I'll point out that, to my knowledge, this particular angle on the genesis of the Ann Rutledge story makes its public debut here.

I found two informative posts at the beginning of this thread dated August 1, 2012:

RJNorton
08-01-2012, 08:58 AM
I am also very curious about that 1862 article. Could the writer have talked to Isaac Cogdal? Lincoln is purported to admitted his love for Ann to Cogdal early in 1861.

Not everyone agrees with Cogdal's account. Dr. Clarence A. Tripp, well-known for his book on Lincoln's sexuality, has written, "Clearly Cogdal and his entire testimony reeks of deliberate fraud..."


Rob Wick
08-01-2012, 07:51 PM
A few years back, I was frequenting a website hosted by a friend named Sam Wheeler, who was a Ph.D student of John Y. Simon and later taught at Southern Illinois University before becoming a researcher for the Papers of Abraham Lincoln Project. Sam received an e-mail from a Lewis Gannett (whose grandfather, also named Lewis Gannett, wrote book reviews for the New York Herald-Tribune) asking if he would like him to discuss C.A. Tripp's book The Intimate World of Abraham Lincoln. After Tripp completed the manuscript, he died before it could be edited and published. Lewis was hired to finish the book. Sam, realizing what an opportunity it would be to have the man who completed one of the most talked about books of the day, immediately accepted.

One of Gannett's hobby-horses was Lincoln's romance with Ann Rutledge. Both he and Tripp have written articles on this for the Journal of the Abraham Lincoln Association. Here is what I wrote to Gannett.

Well, as promised, I finally have gone through all the relevant articles and passages concerning Ann Rutledge, including your article in JALA. With all due respect, neither Tripp nor your article made much difference in my opinions.
After careful consideration, I have to say that nothing has changed my view that 1) Lincoln and Ann had some type of romantic relationship and 2) even if they didn’t, it proves nothing toward Tripp’s thesis [that Lincoln was a homosexual].

Tripp’s chapter on Ann Rutledge is basically a simple rehash of the arguments offered by J.G. Randall and Paul Angle. He really gives us no new evidence or argument that hasn’t been heard before.

As to Tripp’s assertion that “Lincoln also had a long history of falling into extreme depressions for lesser reasons, or indeed for no apparent reason at all” there are only two times when it was said that Lincoln’s depression could called “extreme”—shortly after Ann died and after the “fatal first”. Most other times, the “hypo” was melancholia, not extreme depression.

As to the testimony of Isaac Cogdal, one has to ask why would Cogdal lie. While Cogdal may have embellished parts of his story by romanticizing his own wording, John Y. Simon argues forcefully that such things that Randall picked up on (calling Lincoln “Abe”) wasn’t out of the question. Contrary to Tripp’s assertion that Simon, Douglas Wilson or Michael Burlingame “have failed to answer or to honor Randall’s case on Cogdal” Simon not only answered it, he demolished it.

In my opinion the most important piece of evidence is the Menard Axis story.
I find it telling that neither you nor Tripp mentions it (although Tripp did in his JALA article on Cogdal—why leave it out of the book?). For those not familiar with it, here is the information taken from Simon’s JALA article:
“The Ann Rutledge canon was augmented in 1944 by the rediscovery of an 1862 article by John Hill, a Democrat contemptuous of Lincoln, in the Menard Axis, a county newspaper so obscure that the article had previously gone unremarked. The son of New Salem merchant Samuel Hill, partner of McNamar, and rival for Ann's affections, Hill wrote scornfully of young Lincoln as a ‘love-sick swain.’”

He chanced to meet with a lady, who to him seemed lovely, angelic, and the height of perfection. Forgetful of all things else, he could think or dream of naught but her. His feelings he soon made her acquainted with, and was delighted with a reciprocation. This to him was perfect happiness; and with uneasy anxiety he awaited the arrival of the day when the twain should be made one flesh.—But that day was doomed never to arrive. Disease came upon this lovely beauty, and she sickened and died. The youth had wrapped his heart with her's, and this was more than he could bear. He saw her to her grave, and as the cold clods fell upon the coffin, he sincerely wished that he too had been enclosed within it. Melancholy came upon him; he was changed and sad. His friends detected strange conduct and a flighty immagination.—They placed him under guard for fear of his commiting suicide.—New circumstances changed his thoughts, and at length he partially forgot that which had for a time consumed his mind.

This is independent confirmation three years before Herndon saw it. It seems amazing that many of the details are there, although Ann’s name wasn’t.

Sorry Lewis, but Tripp still strikes out with me.

Last I heard, Lewis was working on his Ph.D in history.

P.S. It's great to see Rob Wick's 2012 post pop up in this thread. Hi Rob!

Herndon was a strange man. He seemed to worship AL as a god and(to me) seemed a little in love with him. That would go a long way to give him reason to dislike not only Lincoln's wife, but even his young children. He resented them.

Like certain AL biographers today he seems to feel that emphasizing-or imagining-that Lincoln was abysmally unhappy in his personal life somehow makes him even more venerable, more worthy of worship.

Here is what Herndon wrote to AL's close friend Isaac N. Arnold on Nov 26, 1866. The latter had written to Herndon protesting statements he had made in his lectures....:

"...My dear sir, what makes Europe and America love Christ? It is our sympathy that is at the root; and shall I strip Abraham Lincoln of his crown and cross? It is criminal to do so". (Emmanuel Hertz, The Hidden Lincoln, pg#38)

So Herndon, who undertook to write a life of AL in the first place because he was disgusted with all the hagiography and worship, apparently decided to encourage hagiography and worship via his lectures.

Strange, twisted man.

I am wondering how much he enjoyed his new found fame and attention, and if the $$ for lectures and the books had much to do with it.