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January 10, 1861 edition of the Chicago Daily Tribune, p.2. |
On the lower right-hand side of page two of the January 10th edition of the Chicago Daily Tribune sat a small but significant article titled 'A Springfield Incident.'
The year, 1861, was just ten days old and the nation was splintering. The South was seceding. And President-elect Abraham Lincoln—still in Springfield, Illinois and weeks away from taking office—was already battling one of his greatest challenges: misconception and mistrust.
Rumors had spread across the South, painting Lincoln as a threat to their way of life, a man who would bring destruction upon them. Most Southerners would never meet him, never hear his voice, never read his speeches, and never know his true intentions.
But one man—an elderly visitor from Mississippi—wanted to find out for himself if those rumors were true.
A Journey for Truth
The man arrived in Springfield one cold Saturday. His clothing was simple homespun, the mark of someone unaccustomed to the politics of grand halls and polished offices. Yet, he came with a purpose—to speak with Abraham Lincoln.
He first mingled with Republican representatives, talking with them, listening. And surprisingly, he found that the people of Illinois were not so black-hearted as they had been painted in Southern newspapers.
Then, he was granted an audience with with the President-elect himself.
For a long time, the two spoke. Lincoln did not lecture him, nor berate Southern leaders, nor push his policies onto the man. Instead, Lincoln shared his genuine thoughts and intentions, assuring him that he harbored no hatred toward the South—only a desire "to preserve the Union and protect the just rights of all its people." [1]
The conversation changed the man. It shattered his preconceived notions. He had expected hostility. He had expected cold political talk. Instead, he saw Lincoln for who he truly was—someone trying to mend what was already falling apart.
The Tears That Said Everything
The Mississippi visitor left Lincoln’s office a changed man.
As he stepped outside into the crisp Illinois air, tears stole down his cheeks. He dreaded the future. Turning to a friend, he lamented:
"Oh! If the people of the South could hear what I have heard, they would love and not hate Mr. Lincoln." [1]
He had seen the man with his own eyes and heard the words with his own ears. And he desperately wanted to share that truth he had journeyed so far to seek.
But, instead, he delivered a heartbreaking realization:
"I will tell my friends at home, but… they will not believe me!" [1]
The Unbreakable Walls of Mistrust
That moment encapsulated the tragedy of misinformation in early 1861. The South had already decided Lincoln’s fate before he ever took office.
No matter how kind and reassuring his words, no matter how honest his intentions, many Southerners would never believe him—even if one of their own stood before them, recounting Lincoln’s message word-for-word.
In another world, at another time, this meeting might have changed minds. Might have calmed fears. Might have stopped the coming storm.
But in this world—the world of 1861—the divide was already too wide, too deep, too ingrained.
And so, this old man left Springfield, carrying both truth and sorrow, knowing that what he had learned from Lincoln would never be accepted back home.
It was not a failure of words, but a failure of trust.
And it was that lack of trust—not Lincoln’s election—that would send the nation spiraling into war.
Why This Story Matters
This encounter is a forgotten footnote in history, yet it embodies the emotional complexity of Abraham Lincoln’s rise to power.
It was never just about policies. Never just about elections.
It was about perception, belief, and the tragedy of division—a division so deep that even truth could not bridge it.
But on that cold January day, one Mississippi man wished he could—but he knew then that it would take a war.
This is another anecdote about Abe Lincoln, Storyteller.
Mac
FYI: Below the Works Cited section is the Tribune article in its entirety.
Works Cited
[1] "A Springfield Incident". Chicago Daily Tribune, January 10, 1861. p. 2. [From the (Springfield) State Journal, January 7th.]
"A Springfield Incident"
An old man, hailing from Mississippi, dressed in plain homespun, came to our city Saturday. He mingled freely with the Republican representatives - got their views, and seemed to think that we are not quite so black as we are represented. He called on Mr. Lincoln, talked freely with him, and heard the Presient-elect express his sntiments and intentions. He learned that Mr. Lincoln entertained none but the kindes feelings toward the people of the South, and that he would protect the South in her jiust rights. He had a long conversation, and he went away delighted. He left the office of Mr. Lincoln in company with a friend who communicated this to us, and when outside the door, he remarked, while the tears stole down his cheeks: "Oh! if the people of the South could hear what I have heard, they would love and not hate Mr. Lincoln. I will tell my firiends at home, but, "he added, sorrowfully, "they will not believe me!" He said that he did wish that everyman in the South could be personally acquainted with Mr. Lincoln.
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