More painful than pleasant An Alternate Theory for Lincolns Reluctance to Visit

His Fathers Deathbed

Mike Capps
In a letter to his step-brother dated January 12, 1851 Abraham Lincoln responds to
the news that his father, Thomas Lincoln, is on his deathbed. In the letter he
explains why he has not responded to previous correspondence (. . . because it
appeared to me I could write nothing which could do any good now, if it were not, as
it is, that my own wife is sick-abed.)He express his hope that his father might yet
recover from his present illness and concludes the letter by telling John Johnston to
tell Thomas Say to him that if we could meet now, it is doubtful whether it would
not be more painful than pleasant . . . Upon first reading it appears that Lincoln is
exhibiting a rather callous attitude toward his fathers impending death. Some
historians have interpreted the letter as evidence of an estrangement, perhaps
even bitterness, between father and son. 1 Others have suggested that father and
son did care for one another. 2 Although it is impossible to know exactly what
Lincoln meant when he used the phrase more painful than pleasant I would like to
propose yet another theory. While the phrase has often been cited as a measure of
the estrangement and interpreted as evidence of a possible awkwardness between
father and son, my suggestion is that it be examined in the light of his own personal
experiences with death. It is possible that what has been interpreted as coldness
can instead be indicative of the reluctance of a man to yet again confront death and
the acceptance of a painful truth that death comes to all.
Abraham Lincoln was certainly no stranger to death. Growing up on the Indiana
frontier, he lived in an environment in which it was all too common. Pioneers often
fell victim to any of a number of diseases for which there was no cure. One of these,
1 . . . the distance between father and son had simply grown too great to be
reconciled, even if the old man was at deaths door. in Allen Guelzo, Abraham
Lincoln, Redeemer President, 159-160. Coldly Lincoln wrote his stepbrother, John
D. Johnston, to tell their father that if we could meet now, it is doubtful whether it
would not be more painful than pleasant. In Michael Burlingame, Abraham Lincoln,
A Life, 360.

2 David Donald relates how Lincoln did visit his father in 1849 when Johnston had
told him that Thomas was dying even when doing so possibly cost him an
appointment as land commissioner with the General Land Office (David Donald,
Lincoln, 152-153) and Ron White conjectures that the religious language that
Lincoln used in the 1851 letter was offered out of a genuine concern to comfort his
father (Ronald C. White, A. Lincoln, A Biography, 183-184).

particularly devastating, was the dreaded milksickness. At the tender age of nine
he saw his mother, Nancy, succumb to this scourge of the Indiana frontier.
Experiencing the death of his mother must have been a very traumatic event in
young Lincoln's life. It could only have been made more so because it took place in
his home. Imagine the impact, on a nine year old boy, of having his mother die in
that one room log cabin in which they all lived. There was no escaping the presence
of death; it existed even among the living. What did it mean for a boy to help his
father build his mother's coffin? What was it like to return to that cabin after her
burial? That experience, at the age of nine, became, indelibly, a part of the man
and first introduced him to the pain of loss. 3
His mothers death was not the only one he experienced during his youth in Indiana
either. In 1828, his beloved sister, Sarah, died as a result of complications that
arose during the birth of her first child (the infant also died). Abraham and Sarah
had always been especially close siblings. In the dark period between their
mothers death and their fathers remarriage they had clung to one another for
comfort. As the eldest, Sarah undoubtedly did her best to look after her brother. It
would have been a grim atmosphere for two young children to live in but one that
helped forge a strong bond between them. A member of the Grigsby (Sarahs inlaws) family later recalled that at the news of his sisters death, Abraham . . . sat in
the door of the smokehouse and buried his face in his hands. The tears slowly
trickled from between his . . . fingers and his . . . frame shook with sobs. 4 Another
neighbor noted that Abraham was, from that point on, . . . sad and thoughtful by
turns . . . 5 The two deaths he experienced during his early years in Indiana scarred
the young man and, while they no doubt contributed to his empathetic nature, they
also helped to create his fatalism, or his belief that all events - even death - would
unfold regardless of any action taken by him. 6
A third death in 1835, again, darkened his life. Ann Rutledge, a woman who may
very well have been his first love, succumbed to a brain fever. Lincoln was
3 Though Lincoln never described how he felt about the loss of his mother, a hint
may be found in his letter of condolence to Fanny McCullough at the death of her
father, In this sad world of ours sorrow comes to all; and, to the young, it comes
with bitterest agony, because it takes them unawares. . . . I have had experience
enough to know what I say . . . (Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, Vol 6, 16-17)

4 Louis Warren, Lincolns Youth, 173

5 Joseph Richardson in interview by William H. Herndon, September 14, 1865, in

Herndons Informants, 120.

reportedly devastated by this additional loss of someone important to him. Several

of his friends and neighbors expressed their concern over how hard he was taking it
and even feared he might harm himself. Robert Rutledge, Anns brother, said, The
effect on Mr. Lincolns mind was terrible; he became plunged in despair, and many
of his friends feared that reason would desert her throne. 7 Lincoln was staying with
Elizabeth and Bennet Abell after Anns death and Mrs. Abell remembered that . . .
her death was a great shock to him and I never seen a man mourn for a companion
more than he did for her . . . .8 Another New Salem resident later stated As to the
condition of Mr. Lincolns mind after the death of Miss R. after that he seemed quite
changed . . . this gloom seemed to deepen for some time, so as to give anxiety to
his friends in regard to his mind . . . . 9 Once again, grief seems to have overtaken
him and the consequences this time proved to be debilitating. He was plunged into
a period of severe depression. 10
It is impossible for us to ever fully know exactly what the nature of the relationship
was between Abraham Lincoln and his father. Clearly they took different paths in
life. Lincoln was similar to his father in some ways, much different from him in
others11, but for a man who had already suffered several losses the prospect of yet
another one could not have been pleasant. Considering his reactions to the earlier
deaths, it does not seem unreasonable to conjecture that Lincolns reluctance to
6 Robert V. Bruce has extensively analyzed Lincolns views of death in his essay
The Riddle of Death in The Lincoln Enigma: The Changing faces of an America
Icon, edited by Gabor Boritt, Oxford University Press, 2001. See also Douglas
Willsons discussion of Lincoln fatalism in Honors Voice, The Transformation of
Abraham Lincoln, 259-260.

7 Robert Rutledge to William H. Herndon, November 1, 1866, in Herndons

Informants, 383.

8 Elizabeth Abell to Willam H. Herndon, February 15, 1867 in Herndons Informants,

556-557.

9 Henry McHenry to William H. Herndon, January 8, 1866 in Herndons Informants,

155-156.

10 Joshua Shenk elaborates extensively on Lincolns periods of depression in his

Lincolns Melancholy, New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2005.

visit his fathers deathbed may very well be attributed, at least in part, to an
aversion to see yet another family member die.12 He had experienced great loss in
his life and had been unable to affect the outcome in any way. His sense of fatalism
would have convinced him that if his father was going to die there was nothing he
could do to change that either. He had helplessly watched his mother die in the very
home in which they lived, he was powerless to save his sister, and he was so
distraught and depressed by his inability to do anything for Ann that his friends
feared for his sanity. For him to see, and not be able to help, his father could very
well have been another of those experiences that was . . . more painful than
pleasant . . . . Regardless of whatever meanings we may assign to the words now,
it is evident that Lincoln had suffered much at the hands of death and that any
encounter with it was a painful one. Unfortunately for him, though, he would
encounter it again on an intimate basis when his beloved son Willie died and
through the hundreds of thousands of deaths that loomed in the future Civil War. 13
In addition, as he grew older, he became increasingly obsessed with the idea of his
own death as well. In spite of a desire to avoid it, which could very well have
inspired the more painful than pleasant language, death was inescapable for
Thomas Lincoln, for Abraham Lincoln, and, inevitably, for us all.

11 Both Thomas and Abraham were noted for their honesty, sense of humor and
storytelling abilities but Abraham clearly had more of an intellectual bent than his
father. Barry Schwartz sums up the relationship by saying, There is strong evidence
that Abraham and his father disagreed on most matters, but none that shows
Thomas to have been a cruel or neglectful father. Abraham Lincoln and the Forge
of National Memory

12 It is important to remember that Lincoln had also suffered the recent loss of his
son, Eddie, in 1850. The three year old boy had died after a long illness. In a
February 23, 1850 letter to John Johnston Lincoln wrote, As you make no mention of
it, I suppose you had not learned that we lost our little boy. He was sick 52 days
and died the morning of the first day of this month. . . .We miss him very much.
(Abraham Lincoln to John D. Johnston, February 23, 1850, Collected Works of
Abraham Lincoln, Volume 2, 76-77)

Works Cited:
Herndons Informants, Douglas Wilson and Rodney Davis, eds. Chicago: University
of Illinois Press, 1998.
The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, Roy P. Basler, ed. New Brunswick, NJ:
Rutgers University Press, 1953.
Lincolns Youth, Louis Warren. Indianapolis: Indiana Historical Society, 1959.
Lincoln, A Biography, Ronald C. White. New York: Random House, 2009.
Lincoln, David Herbert Donald. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1995.
The Lincoln Enigma: the Changing Faces of an American Icon, Gabor Boritt, ed.
Oxford University Press, 2001.
Lincolns Melancholy, Joshua Wolf Shenk. New York: Hougton Mifflin, 2005.
Honors Voice: the Transformation of Abraham Lincoln, Douglas L. Wilson. New York:
Random House, 1999.
Abraham Lincoln and the Forge of National Memory, Barry Schwartz. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 2000.
Abraham Lincoln: A Life, Michael Burlingame. Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008.
Abraham Lincoln: Redeemer President, Allen Guelzo. Cambridge: William P.
Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1999.
With Malice Toward None, Stephen Oates. New York: Harper & Row 1977, 240.
13 In 1861 Lincoln experienced two of these deaths on a very personal level. The
first was when Colonel
Elmer Ellsworth, a former employee of Lincolns who had become a family friend,
was killed by a secessionist as he was attempting to take down a rebel flag in
Alexandria, Virginia. After being told Lincoln broke down into tears and commented
that Ellsworths death has unnerved me. The funeral was held in the White House
and Lincoln wrote to Ellsworths parents, In the untimely loss of your noble son, our
affliction here, is scarcely less than your own. Collected Works, Vol. 4, 385-386.
Another soldiers death that same year, dealt Lincoln a second emotional blow.
Edward D. Baker, an old political ally from Illinois, answered the call for troops in
1861 and was killed in one of the early battles, at Balls Bluff. Upon hearing the
news, Lincoln left the telegraph office with his head down, his chest heaving with
emotion and crying. At a memorial service for Baker, a journalist reported that
again the tears rolled down his cheek. Lincoln later recalled that Bakers death
smote him like a whirlwind from a desert. Shenk, Lincolns Melancholy, 177.