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SOJIE PAGES EROM TH SCRAP BOOK
LINCOLN’S BROAD-SWORD DUEL
How He Accepted a Challenge to
Fight in a Quarrel About a Pin.
(From the Alexandria, Va., Ga-
Mr. Lamon, in his life of Lincoln,
gives an account of an affair of hon
or, which forms one of the most pleas
ing episodes in his book. Tn one of
his letters to Speed, Mr. Lincoln re
fers to his “duel with Shields” —■
a duel, by the way, which was never
fought. The object of this paper is
to furnish for our readers a por
trait of the secret history of that
celebrated “duel.”
The readers of Lincoln’s life are
well aware that Mary Todd, after
wards Mrs. Lincoln, drew her lover
into that very ugly scrape. “As a
satirical writer,” says Mr. Lamon,
“she had no rival of either*sex at
Springfield, and few, we venture to
say, anywhere else. * * * She
was not disposed to let her genius
rust for want of use; and, finding no
other victim handy, she turned her
attention to James Shields, ‘Auditor.’
She had a friend, on Miss Jayne,
afterward Mrs. Trumbull (United
States Senator), who helped her to
keep her secrets, and assisted as
much as she could in worrying the
choleric Irishman.”
The beautiful Miss Jayne was the
apple of discord in this case. Gener
al Shields was walking home with
her one night; he took the liberty of
squeezing her hand, she took the lib
erty of sticking a pin in him. This
small affair of the pin led to the
great affair of the sword. It figures
lately in one of “Rebecca’s,” alias
Miss Todd’s, letters from the “Lost
Townships,” and addressed to the
editor of the Sangamon Journal, by
whom it was published. It is the
most favorable specimen of Miss
Todd’s wit, but it is too long to be
copied here (See Lamon’s Life, pp.
257-8.)
Now, “Old Uncle Abe,” instigated
by his love of fun, or his love of
Mary Todd, or his love of mischief,
or by all three, must have his say
about the pin. Accordingly, he
wrote a letter over the name of
“Aunt Beccy,” from the “Lost
Townships,” and had it published in
the Sangamon Journal. Strange to
say, this letter, about which the fight
occurred (i. e., the fight that was nev
er fought), does not appear in Mr.
Lamon’s book. Other letters of the
series are given, but not this. The
wrath of Shields —the Irish Achil
les —which had been kng kindled,
now burst into flames.
He demanded the author of the
“ Lost Township” letters, especially of
the one written by “Aunt Beccy.”
Aunt Beccy proved to be Uncle Abe.
Gen. Shields, the terrible son of
Mars, without waiting to call for
an explanation, at once challenged
“Aunt Beccy,” and she at once ac
cepted the challenge. It was at this
point of the business that the pres
ent writer was made acquainted with
the state of affairs by Mr. Lincoln
himself.
He entered my office one night as
WATSON’S WEEKLY JEFFERSONIAN.
I was engaged in the study of a law
case, with somewhat more than the
usual gloom seated on his melancholy
face. After taking a seat he said,
“I have got into a little difficulty,
and I want to see if you cannot help
me out of it.” “Most happy to do
so,” said I, “if I can. What is
the matter?” “Why,” said he,
“that fool letter which I wrote for
the Sangamon Journal has made
Shields mad, and he has challenged
me. I have accepted the challenge,
and, without thinking, I have chosen
Dr. Merryman for my second. I be
lieve he would rather see a fight than
not. If I have to fight I will fight;
but I don’t care about fighting just
to gratify Dr. Merryman. Now, if
you will come in and make Dr. Mer
ryman do right (for I know you will
have more influence with him than
any other man) the whole difficulty
may be settled.” Again I said,
‘ ‘ Most happy to do so if I can. What
is the difficulty?”
“Why, it is this,” replied Mr. Lin
coln. “The friends of Shields say
that if I will explain or apologize
he will withdraw the challenge, and
the quarrel can be settled honorably
to both parties. But Dr. Merryman
says if Shields will first withdraw
the challenge then I will explain or
apologize, and the quarrel may be
Settled honorably to both parties.
And there they have come to a dead
lock. Now I don’t see, if both
things have to be done, that it makes
so much difference which is done first.
It seems to me that Dr. Merryman
is disposed to stand upon niceties,
and I don’t think he ought to stand
upon niceties in a case of life and
death.”
The situation was plain. I sym
pathized with Mr. Lincoln; but, while
I fully appreciated his practical
good sense, I could not exactly see
his nice sense of honor. “I know
very little about the code of honor,’’
said I; “it is a branch of moral
science for which I have never had
much respect, and have therefore
never studied it. But if you go by
that code at all (and I suppose you
must if you fight duels), it seems to
me that Dr. Merryman is right. 1
don’t see how you can explain or
apologize or say one word to miti
gate the wrath of Shields while the
challenge is pending over you.”
Mr. Lincoln thereupon fell into one
of his musing, melancholy moods;
and there was spread over his face
that sad expression which made him
an object of interest to every man
who had a live heart in his bosom.
As he sat there looking at the fire,
he seemed to be saying to himself:
“I have come to the wrong person
to help me out of my difficulty. Per
haps Merryman is right, and there is
no help out of ‘this dead lock’ ex
cept a fight with Shields.” His com
pressed lips and firm look evidently
indicated fight.
“There is not the least necessity
for a fight, whatever,” said I. “It
may be very easily avoided.” “How
so?” said Mr. Lincoln, looking up
with a relieved expression of face,
and turning his eyes upon me. “I
know Shields well,” I replied; “and
his courage is not of the truest
stamp; there is altogether too much
of bluster and bravado about the
man for that. He is trying to make
you back out, and you can make him
back out very easily.”
“How so?” said Mr. Lincoln.
“Why,” said I, “as he sent the
challenge, you have the right to
choose the weapons, and if you choose
broadswords, my word for it, he will
never fight you in the world. You
are at least seven inches taller than
Shields, and your arms are three or
four inches longer than his, so that
you could cut him down before he
could get near enough to touch you.
I know you will never do this, be
cause he will never fight you with
broadswords. He will show the
white feather first.”
Mr. Lincoln adopted this idea: He
chose broadswords; and the terms of
duel were arranged as stated in Mr.
Lamon’s book (p. 265). Ist. Wea
pons—Cavalry broadswords of the
largest size, precisely equal in all
respects, and such are now used
by the cavalry company at Jackson
ville. 2d. Position--A plank ten
feet long and from 9 to 12 inches
broad, to be firmly fixed on edge on
the ground as the line between us,
which neither is to pass his foot
over, upon forfeit of his life, etc.
These and other preliminaries ar
ranged, we set out for Alton in order
to pass over to Missouri, on the op
posite side of the Mississippi river
—the place appointed for the fatal
encounter. My father and myself
both accompanied Lincoln and Mer
ryman to the scene of action —he to
see the fun, and I to see that there
w’as no fight. My prediction was ful
filled. Shields would not. or at least
he did not, fight with broadswords.
Lincoln had put down his foot for
broadswords, and nothing cou d
shake his purpose. General Ewing,
the friend of General Shields, cursed
and swore and carried on at a great
rate about “the barbarous
practice of fighting with broad
swords in the nineteenth century.’’
Mr. Lincoln very coolly and calmly
replied that for his part he thought
fighting duels in any way a rather
barbarous practice for the nineteenth
century, and if he had to fight he
would choose his own weapons. The
more General Ewing insisted on
rifles or pistols the more Mr. Lincoln
held on to broadswords; and there
was another “dead lock.” But it
did not last over an hour or two.
Gen. Shields was finally induced by
his friends to withdraw his chal
lenge; Mr. Lincoln explained the of
fensive matter in the only letter
written by himself, and the great
trouble about the pin was “settled
honorably to both parties.” The
second of Mr. Shields had declared,
before the choice of broadswords,
“that he would as soon think of
asking Mr. Shields to butt his brains
out against a brick wall as to with
draw that paper”—the challenge—
but yet, after all, this son of blood
and thunder did withdraw that very
paper rather than expose his brains
to the long sword and the long arm
of Abraham Lincoln.
THE STORY OF A FALLEN
KNIGHT.
By Jo. A. Parker.
Do you remember Will Crittenden
Thornton, who edited the St. Louis
Monitor, and afterward the People’s
Banner, both little papers, not much
larger than a sheet of note paper,
but tilled to the brim with pure gold
in the form of trite paragraphs and
pointed articles defending the faith
of the Omaha platform?
If you do recollect him. you will re
member that our conference, held in
St. Louis last June, passed resolu
tions of respect to his memory, for
our brother had crossed the Great
Divide, and had entered upon his
eternal rest.
Believing that there is a chord of
sympathy and fraternity among the
Old Guard Populists who will read
this, 1 have a story to relate in this
connection, and an appeal to make
as a matter of justice to the memory
of one who wrought without means,
and yet knew not discouragement.
ill Crittenden Thornton was very
poor. He did not know how to suc
ceed financially. He was an idealist
and a dreamer. He dreamed of a
system which would lift from the
brow of labor its ‘ ‘ crown of thorns ’ ’;
of a time to come when the stony
pathway of the poor would be less
painful to the feet of the unfortu
nate. Hence, he was a Populist, a
trades-unionist, and allied with all
movements looking toward industrial
freedom.
And he felt that he had a message
to deliver to the world, hence, he
became the editor of a reform paper;
but because he had no means and
but little financial sagacity, he la
bored unappreciated. Others could
have taken the magnificent attain
ments he possessed and combined with
business ability could have turned
them into wealth; but he labored on
unappreciated, for he was too large
of heart to strive to turn his efforts
into money or property. We have
never had in the reform movement a
clearer thinker or better writer on
reform questions than Will Ciitten
den Thornton, and those of us who
read his little Monitor and later the
People’s Banner, learned co value his
efforts.
Knocked about from pillar to post,
struggling against poverty, he finally
concluded to get “back to the land”;
hence he located a homestead on gov
ernment land on the summit of a
grand mountain in Iron county, Mo.,
in the Ozarks, and almost in sight of
the ruins of old Iron Mountain, now
robbed of the immense treasures Na
ture had given her, for many for
tunes have been extracted from this
red old hill in iron. It is now de
serted —a cow-pasture—and the
hordes who burrowed for the precious
ore for half a century are long since
gone, and their hundred homes de
serted and falling into decay.
On the summit of the mountain
Mr. Thornton cleared out a building
site, and with tire aid of his devoted
wife, built with their own hands the
(Continued on Page Seven.)
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