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| History isn't just in the leather-bound books; it’s hidden on the scraps and in the margins of the things we almost threw away. |
A forgotten 1849 memo reveals Lincoln arguing with himself — and the moment that quietly redirected his entire career.
The documents that reveal the most about Abraham Lincoln are often the ones he never intended to leave his desk. This scrap of writing from 1849 — hurried, sharp‑edged, and composed for no eyes but his own — opens a window into the private arguments that shaped the public man.🧭 The Backstory
Zachary Taylor entered the White House in 1849 as a national war hero but a political novice. He had never held elected office, had little patience for party machinery, and barely knew the factions inside his own Whig Party. Illinois politics were a blur to him. Patronage appointments — normally handled through predictable party channels — suddenly became chaotic, because Taylor didn’t trust the Whig establishment and didn’t feel bound by its expectations. For ambitious Whigs in the states, this meant uncertainty, improvisation, and a scramble for influence.
Lincoln was one of those Whigs. Fresh out of his controversial stint in Congress, with no clear next step in his career, he quietly hoped to secure the position of Commissioner of the General Land Office — a respectable federal post that would stabilize his finances and keep him in public life. But he also wanted to appear loyal to the party and above petty self‑promotion. So when Chicago Whigs pushed Justin Butterfield for the job, Lincoln initially supported him — a gesture of unity he soon realized might have been a mistake.
As letters poured in from across Illinois, it became clear that Lincoln, not Butterfield, was the preferred Whig candidate. Butterfield’s support looked thinner than advertised; his Whig loyalty was questioned; and Chicago elites seemed to be overstating his backing. Lincoln suddenly found himself in an awkward position: he had already recommended Butterfield, but now believed he should have recommended himself. The political math had changed, and Lincoln needed to untangle his own misstep — privately, on paper — before deciding what to do next.
📜 The Scrap Itself
In June 1849, Lincoln drafted a short memorandum [*] to President Zachary Taylor — a document he never sent, never polished, and never even dated with confidence. It survives only because someone, at some point, thought the paper was worth saving.
The memo is brief, but the internal argument is unmistakable. Lincoln is imagining what the Illinois Butterfield Whigs will say to Taylor — and then quietly building the counter‑case.
Here’s the heart of it:
“Nothing in my papers questions Mr. B.’s competency or honesty… Being equal so far, if it does not appear I am preferred by the Whigs of Illinois, I lay no claim to the office.”
“But if it does appear I am preferred… I only ask that Illinois be not cut off with less deference.”
It’s a strange little piece — part argument, part rehearsal, part self‑justification — written by a man trying to talk himself into asking for a federal appointment he badly wanted but felt awkward claiming.
🔍 What’s Actually Happening Here
This is the lawyer‑Lincoln mode, and the full version of the memo shows the unmistakable structure of a miniature legal brief. He lays out the anticipated objections and then answers each one in turn.
1. He states the anticipated objection
“It will be argued that the whole Northwest, and not Illinois alone, should be heard.” [1]
2. He answers it point‑by‑point
“I answer I am as strongly recommended by Ohio and Indiana…” “…Illinois was not consulted…” “…Of none of these have I ever complained…” [1]
He’s building precedent. He’s citing cases. He’s establishing a pattern of practice.
3. He states the second anticipated objection
“It will be argued that all the Illinois appointments, so far, have been South…” [1]
4. He answers it with geographic evidence
“…every part has had its share, and Chicago far the best share of any.” “…neither of these is within a hundred miles of me…” “I am in the center. Is the center nothing?” [1]
He marshals facts, distances, and precedent to dismantle the claim.
This is Lincoln doing exactly what he did in court: laying out counter‑arguments based on an anticipated set of objections. It’s the same mental machinery he uses in the Cooper Union Address eleven years later — but here it’s raw, unpolished, private, and slightly anxious.
This isn’t a speech. It isn’t a letter. It isn’t a public argument.
It’s a private legal brief against his own party faction — ambition wrapped in humility wrapped in insecurity. The early Lincoln in all his awkward, earnest complexity, but already thinking like the president he would become.
🧩 Why This Scrap Matters
This memorandum sits at a fascinating crossroads in Lincoln’s life:
He’s no longer a young striver.
He’s not yet the Lincoln we know.
He’s a former congressman with no clear path forward.
He wants a patronage appointment but hates asking for favors.
He’s trying to justify ambition without appearing ambitious.
This is the Lincoln who hasn’t yet found his purpose — the Lincoln who still thinks his career might be over at 40.
And that’s what makes this scrap so revealing.
It shows a man who is:
politically savvy
personally insecure
morally earnest
and deeply uncomfortable with self‑promotion
It’s a portrait of Lincoln before the myth hardens — Lincoln as a working politician, not a marble figure.
🔒 Conclusion: The Private Lincoln
What I love about this memorandum is how un‑Lincoln it feels at first glance.
No soaring rhetoric. No moral clarity. No biblical cadence. No “better angels.”
Just a man trying to talk himself into asking for something he wants.
And yet — this is exactly the Lawyer Lincoln who becomes the President Lincoln we know. The one who thinks before he speaks. The one who drafts before he decides. The one who argues with himself before he argues with the world.
And here’s the kicker: Lincoln never sent the memo.
This failure changed his life. This tiny scrap is the hinge of a career.
He withdrew his name, the appointment went to Butterfield, and the moment passed. But the loss kept Lincoln in Illinois — and kept his political future alive. Had he won the job he wanted — that land office — he might never have become the Lincoln we know.
This small scrap shows Lincoln thinking in the quiet, when no one was watching — a private mind at work on a public life. And there are more of these raw glimpses tucked throughout the archives of Abraham Lincoln, Storyteller.
Mac
[*] Below the Works Cited section is the fill memorandum.
📚 Works Cited
[1] Abraham Lincoln, Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, ed. Roy P. Basler (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1953–55), 2. Accessed February 16, 2026.
Full Memorandum
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