The Morristown gazette. [volume] (Morristown, Tenn.) 1867-1920, 1882-08-02
MIR. LINCOLN's INSANITY
A Romance in His Early Life and
It's Melancholy Episode.
From the Cleveland Leader,

In 1882, at the age of twenty
three, Abraham Lincoln was tn
!. owner of a farm seven miles mort
of Now Salem, and the halfowne
of the largest store in the place
AT this time he met with Miss AM
Rutledge Two well-to-do gentle
men of the place-Hill and Nc
/ Neil = were cOurting her with de
voted assiduity she decided in favor
of the latter. He parted with her ear
ly in 1882 to visit his facher in New
York, promising to return at a given
day and make her his own. She
watched him ride away on Old
Charley, an antiquated animal that
had seen hard usage in the Black
Hawk war, and that logged slowly
along the bad roads to New York.
Then there came letter telling of
sickness in his family, which for
bade his return at the appointed
time. This was followed by other
postponements, until years rOl ed by.
The unaccountable delay, the in
frequency of his letters, and his
failure to give reasonable explana-
ton OF his postponements finally
lessened her attachment and made
trighttul inroads upon her health.
She only wanted to see him in order
to ask release from her engage
ment, and to let him know that she
preferred another and more urgent
suitor, whose name was Abraham
Lincoln. During three years young
Lincoln visited Miss Rutledge two
or three times a week, first as a
friend in quest of congenial COM
pany, and finally as suitor for her
hand. She was great favorite in
the village, loved by all who knew
her. She was probably the most
refined woman to whom Mr.. Lincoln
at that ,ime had ever spoken. He
was always welcomed by her father
and mother. The latter he always
called "Aunt Polly" in his familiar
way. Both father and mother en-
tertained for him a deep affection,
and though they never openly ex-
pressed themselves in regard to
AIMS choice of husband, yet they
would, without doubt, have reioiced
to receive the manly Abe Lincoln
into their family. He lighted up
their home with cheerful glow
whenever he entered, and gave a
pleasant flow of mirth and Joy to
their conversation. AIMS relatives
were all united in encouraging the
suit, which the young man pressed
with great earnestness, but she
firmly insisted that her honor de-
manded her to wait until she could
be released from her first engage
ment before she made q second. In
1885 she and Lincoln werc formally
and solemnly betrothed, but she
asked to wait another year, hoping
that Mcneil would return and that
she might release herself from her
pledge to him. Weeks and months
passed and he returned not. While
she was waiting Lincoln was study
ing night and day to make himself
more worthy Of Ann, and while he
was growing in mind and body and
daily developing the great intellect
that was to fit him to lead a mighty
nation through the fierce struggles
of war, Ann was hourly fading
away. In August, 1885, she died,
as her physicians said, of brain
fever, but, as her neighbors believed,
Of the long ries of disappoint-
ments and the pangs inflicted upon
her heart and mind in striving to do
right in regard to two lovers, to
whom she had pledged her hand.
Ann was buried In the little ceme-
terry at New Salem, and as the future
President stood over her green grave
with streaming eyes, he said: "My
heart lies buried here" After the
burial Lincoln began to exhibit that
deep vein of gloom and sadness so
often noticeable in his conduct while
President. He lost all self control,
and every friend he had in New
Salem pronounced him insane. He
was constantly watched, and with
special vigilance, says one of his
"during storms, fogs and
damp, gloomy weather, for fear of
an accident" F" At such times he would
rave piteously, saying, among other
wild expressions, "I can never be
reconciled to have the snow, rains
and storms beat upon her grave"
His friends, finally succeeded in Sc
him in a log hut littleway
from town, where he was watched
over with anxious sOlicitude for
few months, until he appeared to be
restored to his reason, but the traces
of sadness always fingered in his
character. He visited the cemetery
daily and spent hours over her
grave. AT this time he was heard
to repeat few lines of
that poem that he often recited in
after years, entitled: "Why should
the spirit of mortal be proud?
Some nights as he left the grave of
Ann Rutledge he was heard to mur-
muir port ons of it. On the evening
of March %, 1864, as he sat in the
White House, he dropped his pen,
turned from his letters, and with
half-closed eyes repeated it entire
to friend.