Introduction
I found something interesting while researching claims made in the introductory essay of the 1619 Project about Lincoln’s support of colonization.[1] Here’s an excerpt from the essay, for background information:
On Aug. 14, 1862 . . . President Abraham Lincoln called a group of five esteemed free black men to the White House for a meeting. It was one of the few times that black people had ever been invited to the White House as guests. The Civil War had been raging for more than a year, and black abolitionists, who had been increasingly pressuring Lincoln to end slavery, must have felt a sense of great anticipation and pride.
… as the men arrived at the White House, they were greeted by the towering Lincoln and a man named James Mitchell, who eight days before had been given the title of a newly created position called the commissioner of emigration. This was to be his first assignment. After exchanging a few niceties, Lincoln got right to it. He informed his guests that he had gotten Congress to appropriate funds to ship black people, once freed, to another country [historians usually specify Liberia—details on the colonization plans for Liberia can be found here—KE].
…As Lincoln closed the remarks, Edward Thomas, the delegation’s chairman, informed the president, perhaps curtly, that they would consult on his proposition. ‘Take your full time,’ Lincoln said. ‘No hurry at all.’
The delegation understandably rejected the proposal, and it has been a subject of indignant criticism ever since. But Lincoln’s remarks on this occasion, as detailed in contemporary coverage, provide a glimpse at his thought process on a variety of issues. I won’t get into all of them right now, but will highlight a couple.
There were a few new details in the essay that made me think the author was working from contemporary newspaper reports, so I tracked those down. I had noticed that the essay said the meeting “was one of the few times that black people had ever been invited to the White House as guests,” while most earlier accounts had claimed it was the first time such a thing had been considered. The newspaper coverage makes it clear that it was not the first such invitation, as Lincoln casually revealed to the committee that “the old [former] President of Liberia, Roberts, has just been with me,” in the White House.[2] They’d been discussing the situation in Liberia.
Lincoln on Immunity
Reading between the lines, it seems Lincoln didn’t like what he heard. “In a certain sense it is a success,” he said.[3] That doesn’t sound too encouraging, and he didn’t attempt to deceive the committee on this point.
“Many of the original settlers have died, yet like people elsewhere, their offspring outnumber those deceased.”
This is the line that caught my eye. It seems to be an acknowledgement that adults who relocated often died of unfamiliar diseases—something that had happened in his own family as they migrated to various parts of the frontier in his youth. It seems like his father ended up being his only significantly older biological relative. Most of his relatives were on his mother’s side, and they had migrated more recently, which may explain why they were more susceptible. Yet he had many cousins who lived to adulthood, and his sister died in childbirth, not of disease. He and his cousins seemed healthy by the standards of the time, and some lived to be quite elderly. Lincoln himself fought off smallpox while president.
The comments indicate that he understood that children born after the relocation, if they survived infancy, tended to have more immunity to local diseases than their parents. The reasons behind this were not well-understood at the time—germ theory would not become widely accepted for decades. But he’d picked it up from observation, and was quite matter-of-fact about this cruel reality, which he saw as something people sometimes accept to give their kids a better chance in life.
Colonizing Panama?
Yet, after that brief time with Roberts, Lincoln already seemed to feel that he couldn’t in good conscience recommend Liberia to the committee. What he said next is probably why the essay referred to a proposal to colonize “another country,” rather than naming Liberia specifically.
The place I am thinking about having for a colony is in Central America. It is nearer to us than Liberia—not much more than one fourth as far as Liberia, and within seven days' run by steamers. Unlike Liberia, it is on a great line of travel —it is a highway. The country is a very excellent one for any people, and with great natural resources and advantages…and this particular place has all the advantages for a colony.
One place in the region Lincoln considered was Panama. I have written about Mary Lincoln’s interesting friend Rhoda E. White. One of Rhoda’s daughters ended up moving to Panama during the war, and wrote a long letter to Lincoln giving her thoughts on whether it could be a good place for colonization. Sadly, it proved little better on the disease front, as she died in a yellow fever epidemic in 1867. Rhoda, who had recently been widowed, immediately wrote a long book to memorialize her daughter, Jenny C. White del Bal.
Here is an interesting excerpt from the February 1864 letter from del Bal to Lincoln (emphases added):
…When my husband and I called in August, 1862, to pay our respects to Mrs. Lincoln and yourself, before leaving the country for a few years' residence in New Grenada, you, dear sir, requested me to write to you from my new home, — a request to which I accede gladly, and with more pleasure, as you jestingly added, "I will read every line of your letters."
In consequence of the unsettled state of the government, our departure from New York was delayed until the following June. I now trespass on your valuable time from a twofold motive : first, to accomplish my promise ; secondly, to say a few words to you, dear sir, on a subject touched upon in your message of December last, which interests me deeply, as I am now included among the "American citizens abroad," and my husband is one of its most devoted and loyal naturalized citizens. [Lincoln had suggested to Congress that it "might be advisable to fix a limit beyond which no citizen of the United States residing abroad may claim the interposition of his Government," but this was not acted on. (Use ctrl + f “citizens abroad” to locate the message on the linked page.) America barely had a legal framework for regulating immigration and citizenship at this time. Del Bal’s comments indicate that she understood his remarks in a broader context, the details of which are not clear to me. Why she moved to Panama is also hard to fully explain, but their plans to move to her husband’s native Spain were derailed by an outbreak of social unrest.—KE]
We, as well as a large number of American citizens residing in this State, Isthmus of Panama, feel grieved that we, who are unwilling exiles from home, may also be deprived of our title of American citizens, to defend which, I am sure, many, if not all, abroad, would cheerfully sacrifice their fortunes and lives, if necessary. Permit me to say, dear sir, I think you misjudge the absent citizens of both classes alluded to in your message. They are, I think, wanting in neither patriotism nor loyalty. You say, dear sir, that the privilege has been abused. The simple fact that a foreigner testifies his love and admiration for our government by renouncing his allegiance to his own, and swearing fidelity to ours, cannot, I think, be the abuse…
One cause of complaint, I presume, is, that citizens residing in foreign countries contribute nothing towards the support of the government ; but where is the fault, dear sir ? No such citizen ever claimed the exemption ; and, on the contrary, many loyal men abroad have sent liberal donations towards the support of the country in which they glory, and whose reputation they extend and sustain in whatever land necessity may have obliged them to reside.
To obviate this ground of complaint, however, permit me to suggest, dear sir, the imposition of a personal tax on all citizens residing in foreign countries. The collection of the tax need involve no additional expense to the government, as the consuls might collect it, — each American being required to leave his name and address with his consul ; it being understood that those failing to do so are to be denied protection. The Americans on the Isthmus, who are nearly all strong Union men, would, I
feel confident, welcome such an arrangement. I beg, dear sir, you will pardon the liberty I have taken in addressing you on this subject. My love of country must be my apology. I fear the treasure I so proudly boast — my American citizenship — is to be taken from me ; and, in my desire to save it, I have, perhaps, trespassed too far both on your time and patience ; but so true a patriot as yourself, dear sir, can appreciate my feelings, and forgive me.
I have now resided over six months in this country, and have, through my husband's position, many opportunities for observing both men and manners.
I presume, your object in asking me to write to you was to obtain some information respecting the country, which, though insignificant among the greater political powers, has an importance from its geographical position.
Strange to say, although, for the last fourteen years, so many thousands of my countrymen have passed through the Isthmus, as little is really known in the United States of the people, their politics, and their resources, as of
those of Japan…The climate of the Isthmus is generally healthy. At the change of seasons chills and fevers prevail to some extent, but they seldom assume a dangerous form.
As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, it was not abnormal for women in this era to voice strong opinions about political affairs. Social expectations merely forced them to do it somewhat indirectly. Here, del Bal begins by pointing out her opinions were solicited by Lincoln himself, and she refers often to her husband. She emphasizes that patriotism drove her to speak out. And it helped that her father was politically influential, and that her family was socially influential. Unfortunately, her own illness assumed a “dangerous form,” taking her life only days after she gave birth to her second child. I don’t have many details on what became of her husband and children.
Illness and the Lincoln Family
I will probably write more about Lincoln’s meeting with the freedmen’s committee in the future, but I think it is interesting to consider Lincoln’s comments about migration and disease, since they’ve gotten so little coverage. Rarely do we get a glimpse at Lincoln’s opinions on scientific topics, although I found an account of his interest in cellular biology that seems reasonably credible. At the time, medical knowledge was pretty iffy, and Lincoln did not seem to follow the latest advances. When family members were sick, he deferred entirely to the judgement of doctors and nurses. He found technology fascinating, but he did not seem to have confidence in his understanding of medical issues. This was probably at least partly due to having grown up in a community where superstitious beliefs about illness were common.
In hindsight, it seems pretty likely that the death of the Lincolns’ three sons related to their time living in disease-ridden Washington D.C. The child morality rate was appalling, and everyone knew it was full of malaria and smallpox, among other things. It was openly spoken of as an unhealthy city, and I imagine it was much worse if you weren’t from the general region and hadn’t built up immunity, which would be the case for any child.
The adult Lincolns had done a fair amount of traveling along popular routes, and were likely exposed to pathogens from different regions. Mary Lincoln seems to have a harder time with her health than her husband, but not enough to keep her from being quite active. Her family must have been prone to strong immmune systems, as her father had a large number of children survive to adulthood, and the few children that died never made it out of infancy. All of the Lincolns’ children made it out of infancy, but only one was able to battle disease well enough to make it to adulthood.
Robert Lincoln seems to have been consistently healthy. There are no known major health issues related to his visiting D.C. and Lexington around age 5, or while he was home in Springfield. He spent most of his adolescence in New England, with occasional trips to D.C. and other cities during the war, and all the record shows is a bout with mumps in 1863. Pure speculation, but maybe one factor was early exposure to pathogens due to being the only one whose first months of life were spent boarding with other families, as his parents did not yet own a home.
Whatever the reason for the difference, the other Lincoln boys weren’t so lucky. We can’t know for sure, but Eddie seems to have become chronically ill while Lincoln was in Congress and they lived in D.C. He died not all that long after they returned to Springfield. This could have been a different disease, but if so, he may have been weakened by the earlier illness. Willie probably died of typhoid fever, after being infected by bacteria in a White House newly equipped with running water from the Potomac. Tad suffered the same illness, which left him unable to walk for some time, as well as others while in D.C., and this may have caused long-term damage that culminated in his death nearly a decade later. Again, all this is hard to confirm, as disease and other causes of bad health were rampant. But recovering from infections without antibiotics often led to organ damage, and made subsequent infections more dangerous. (It is possible Willie’s severe case of scarlet fever two years earlier, while still in Springfield, impaired his ability to fight off the disease that killed him. And both he and Tad had measles shortly after that.)[4]
It strikes me as weird that the Lincolns, nervous as they were about these things, never voiced worries about keeping the kids in D.C. Maybe they just weren’t aware of the risks, but risks seem to have been pretty well-known. Perhaps it was impossible for them to imagine that their political ambitions and desire to be with their children could be in conflict. Ultimately, they seemed committed to a “life is for living” philosophy that led them to push past fear, even when it was overwhelming for someone as anxious as Mary.[5] They did decide to have Mary take Tad (and Willie, prior to his death) out of Washington for much of the malaria season. Other politicians stationed at the Capitol made similar arrangements for their families, but journalist Mary Clemmer Ames famously criticized Mary Lincoln for heartlessly deserting her husband every summer. It may have seemed that way to Clemmer Ames because she was convinced that malaria was a made-up illness.
Footnotes
[1] Lincoln had definitely long been interested in colonization, but it seems the intensity of the interest was partly influenced by personal experience—relatives of Mary Lincoln had been active in setting up Liberia, and a relative of hers actually became President of Liberia. This is a story for another time, but it’s quite a story.
[2] While many historians have indicated otherwise, it appears that black Americans regularly visited the White House during the Lincoln years and probably before that. They were barred from formal social events, like dinners and receptions, and were in other ways treated unequally, but virtually no one was barred from making a private visit. It seems like 20th century concepts of segregation were sort of shoe-horned into accounts of the 19th century, with the assumption that enforcement was more extreme.
[3] All quotes are from The North Iowa Times, August 27, 1862.
[4] Occasionally, there has been speculation that Mary Lincoln caused her children’s deaths in a case of Munchausen-by-proxy.* Putting aside the fraught questions that accompany such accusation, the manner of death of both Tad and Willie is not compatible with poisoning or other methods associated with that behavior. I’m pretty sure it is very difficult to intentionally induce a high fever or pleurisy. We don’t have enough details on Eddie’s death to assess it, but given that the accusation derives from the fact that there were multiple deaths, that should be enough to refute it. And, while I hestitate to call attention to it, I think it deserves refutation.
*I realize that there is a bizarre comment by William H. Herndon that gave rise to some of the speculation. I don’t know what to make of that, but something tells me this was not his implication.
[5] After Lincoln’s death, there were several times where Mary was willing to separate from Tad due to a perceived danger to his health, such as an outbreak of scarlet fever. But danger in service to one’s country was another matter. Mary permitted Tad to accompany his father into some fairly dangerous situations while on military excursions.