Centre Democrat. [volume] (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1848-1989, 1882-08-10
Mr.. LimcOln'S Insanity.
a Roma,cc IN Ills Eariy Life md It's Mel
anchoy Episode


Abraham Lincoln was the owner Of Il
farm seven miles north Of New Salem,
and the half-owner of the largest store
in the place. At this time he met with
Miss Ann Rutledge. Two well-to-do
gentleman Of the pIace-Hill and Nc
Neil-were courting her with devoted
assiduity; she decided in favor Of the
latter. He parted with her early in
1882 to visit his father in New York,
promising to return at a given day and
make her his own. She watched him
ride away OIL Old Charley, an anti
quated animal that had seen hard
usuage in the Black Hawk war, and
that had logged slowly along the bad
roads to New York. Then there came
a letter telling Of sickness in his |fami-
! ly, which forbade his return at the APP
pointed time. This was followed by
other postponements, until years rolled
by. The unaccountable delay, the in
frequency Of his letters, and bis failure
to give a reasonable explanation of his
postponements finally lesscned her at
tachment and made. frightful inroads
upon her health. She only wanted to
see him in order to ask a release from
her engagement, and to let him know
that she preferred another and more
urgent suitor, whose name was Abra-
ham Lincoln. During three years
young Lincoln visited Miss RutIcdgc
two or three times a week, first as
n friend in quest Of congenial compa-
ny, and finally as a suitor for her hand.
She was Il great fa1orite in the village,
loved by all who knew her. She was
probably the most refined woman to
whom Mr.. Lincoln at that time had
ever spoken. He was always welcom-
ed by her father and mother. The
latter he always called "Aupt Polly"
in his familiar way. Both father and
mother entertained for him a deep al
tection, and though they never openly
expressed themselves in regard to
AIMS choice Of husband, vet they
would, without doubt, have rejoiced to
receive the manly Abe Lincoln into
their family. lie lighted up their
home with a cheerful glow whenever
he entered, and gave pleasant flow of
mirth and joy to their conversation.
AIMS relatives were all united in en-
couraging the suit, which the young
man pressed with great earnestness,
but she firmly insisted that her honor
demanded her to wait until she could
be released from her first engagement
before she made a second. In 1885
she and Lincoln were formally and
solemnly hetrothed, but she asked to
wait another year, hoping that Mcneil
would return and that she might re-
lease herself from her pledge to him.
Weeks and months passed and he re-
turned not. While she was waiting
Lincoln was studying 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 strug-
giles 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 series of disappointments and the
pangs inflicted upon her heart and
mind in striving to do right in regard
to two lovers, to whom she had pledg-
ed her hand. Ann was buried in the
little cemetery 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 ex-
hibit that deep vein of loom and sad
ness so often noticeable in his conduct
while President. lie lost all selfcon-
troll, and every friend he had in New
Salem pronounced him insane. He
was constantly watched, and with spe-
cial vigilance, says one Of his neigh
bors, " during storms, iogs and damp,
gloomy weather, for fear of an acci
dent" At such times he would rave
piteousl Y, saying, among other wild eX
pressions, | can never be reconciled
to have the snow, rains and storms beat
upon her grave" His friends finally
succeeded in secluding him in a log
hut little way from town, were he
was watched over with anxious solici
tude for a few months, until he appear
ed to be restored to his reason, but the
traces of the sadness always fingered
in his character. He visited the ceme-
terry daily and spent hours over her
grave. AT this time he was heard fire.
quently to repeat few lines of that
poem he often recited in after years,
entitled "Why should the spirit of
mortal be proudp' Some nights as
he left the grave of Ann Rutledge he
was'heard to murmur portions of it.
On the evening Of March %, 1864, as
he sat in the White House, he drop
ped his pen, turned from his letters,
and with baIf.alosad avaa ranaa fad II