Preface

I have often been asked to write my life, as those who know me know that it has been an eventful one. At last I have acceded to the importunities of my friends, and have hastily sketched some of the striking incidents that go to make up my history. My life, so full of romance, may sound like a dream to the matter-of-fact reader, nevertheless everything I have written is strictly true; much has been omitted, but nothing has been exaggerated. In writing as I have done, I am well aware that I have invited criticism; but before the critic judges harshly, let my explanation be carefully read and weighed. If I have portrayed the dark side of slavery, I also have painted the bright side. The good that I have said of human servitude should be thrown into the scales with the evil that I have said of it. I have kind, true-hearted friends in the South as well as in the North, and I would not wound those Southern friends by sweeping condemnation, simply because I was once a slave. They were not so much responsible for the curse under which I was born, as the God of nature and the fathers who framed the Constitution for the United States. The law descended to them, and it was but natural that they should recognize it, since it manifestly was their interest to do so. And yet a wrong was inflicted upon me; a cruel custom deprived me of my liberty, and since I was robbed of my dearest right, I would not have been human had I not rebelled against the robbery. God rules the Universe. I was a feeble instrument in His hands, and through me and the enslaved millions of my race, one of the problems was solved that belongs to the great problem of human destiny; and the solution was developed so gradually that there was no great convulsion of the harmonies of natural laws. A solemn truth was thrown to the surface, and what is better still, it was recognized as a truth by those who give force to moral laws. An act may be wrong, but unless the ruling power recognizes the wrong, it is useless to hope for a correction of it. Principles may be right, but they are not established within an hour. The masses are slow to reason, and each principle, to acquire moral force, must come to us from the fire of the crucible; the fire may inflict unjust punishment, but then it purifies and renders stronger the principle, not in itself, but in the eyes of those who arrogate judgment to themselves. When the war of the Revolution established the independence of the American colonies, an evil was perpetuated, slavery was more firmly established; and since the evil had been planted, it must pass through certain stages before it could be eradicated. In fact, we give but little thought to the plant of evil until it grows to such monstrous proportions that it overshadows important interests; then the efforts to destroy it become earnest. As one of the victims of slavery I drank of the bitter water; but then, since destiny willed it so, and since I aided in bringing a solemn truth to the surface as a truth, perhaps I have no right to complain. Here, as in all things pertaining to life, I can afford to be charitable.

I have often been asked to write my life story, because those who know me know it has been eventful. At last, I have given in to my friends’ repeated requests. I have quickly sketched some of the striking events that make up my history. My life has been so full of romance that it may sound like a dream to a practical reader. Nevertheless, everything I have written is strictly true. Much has been left out, but nothing has been exaggerated. I know that by writing as I have, I have invited criticism. But before critics judge me harshly, let them read and weigh my explanation carefully. If I have portrayed the dark side of slavery, I have also painted the bright side. The good I have said about human bondage should be weighed against the evil I have said about it. I have kind, loyal friends in the South as well as in the North. I would not hurt those Southern friends by condemning everyone, simply because I was once a slave. They were less responsible for the curse I was born under than the God of nature and the fathers who framed the Constitution for the United States. The law was passed down to them. It was only natural for them to accept it, since doing so was clearly in their interest. And yet I was wronged. A cruel custom took away my liberty. Since I was robbed of my dearest right, I would not have been human if I had not rebelled against that robbery. God rules the Universe. I was a weak instrument in his hands. Through me and the enslaved millions of my race, one part of the great problem of human destiny was solved. The solution developed so gradually that it caused no great disruption to the harmony of natural laws. A solemn truth came to the surface. Better still, those who give force to moral laws recognized it as a truth. An act may be wrong, but there is no use hoping to correct it unless those in power recognize the wrong. Principles may be right, but they are not established in an hour. The masses are slow to reason. To gain moral force, each principle must come to us through the fire of the crucible. That fire may inflict unjust punishment, but it also purifies and strengthens the principle. It does not strengthen the principle in itself, but in the eyes of those who claim the right to judge. When the war of the Revolution established the independence of the American colonies, an evil was carried on. Slavery became more firmly established. Since the evil had been planted, it had to pass through certain stages before it could be destroyed. In fact, we give little thought to the plant of evil until it grows so monstrous that it overshadows important interests. Only then do efforts to destroy it become earnest. As one of slavery’s victims, I drank the bitter water. But destiny willed it so, and I helped bring a solemn truth to the surface as a truth. Perhaps, then, I have no right to complain. Here, as in all matters of life, I can afford to be charitable.

It may be charged that I have written too freely on some questions, especially in regard to Mrs. Lincoln. I do not think so; at least I have been prompted by the purest motive. Mrs. Lincoln, by her own acts, forced herself into notoriety. She stepped beyond the formal lines which hedge about a private life, and invited public criticism. The people have judged her harshly, and no woman was ever more traduced in the public prints of the country. The people knew nothing of the secret history of her transactions, therefore they judged her by what was thrown to the surface. For an act may be wrong judged purely by itself, but when the motive that prompted the act is understood, it is construed differently. I lay it down as an axiom, that only that is criminal in the sight of God where crime is meditated. Mrs. Lincoln may have been imprudent, but since her intentions were good, she should be judged more kindly than she has been. But the world do not know what her intentions were; they have only been made acquainted with her acts without knowing what feeling guided her actions. If the world are to judge her as I have judged her, they must be introduced to the secret history of her transactions. The veil of mystery must be drawn aside; the origin of a fact must be brought to light with the naked fact itself. If I have betrayed confidence in anything I have published, it has been to place Mrs. Lincoln in a better light before the world. A breach of trust—if breach it can be called—of this kind is always excusable. My own character, as well as the character of Mrs. Lincoln, is at stake, since I have been intimately associated with that lady in the most eventful periods of her life. I have been her confidante, and if evil charges are laid at her door, they also must be laid at mine, since I have been a party to all her movements. To defend myself I must defend the lady that I have served. The world have judged Mrs. Lincoln by the facts which float upon the surface, and through her have partially judged me, and the only way to convince them that wrong was not meditated is to explain the motives that actuated us. I have written nothing that can place Mrs. Lincoln in a worse light before the world than the light in which she now stands, therefore the secret history that I publish can do her no harm. I have excluded everything of a personal character from her letters; the extracts introduced only refer to public men, and are such as to throw light upon her unfortunate adventure in New York. These letters were not written for publication, for which reason they are all the more valuable; they are the frank overflowings of the heart, the outcropping of impulse, the key to genuine motives. They prove the motive to have been pure, and if they shall help to stifle the voice of calumny, I am content. I do not forget, before the public journals vilified Mrs. Lincoln, that ladies who moved in the Washington circle in which she moved, freely canvassed her character among themselves. They gloated over many a tale of scandal that grew out of gossip in their own circle. If these ladies, could say everything bad of the wife of the President, why should I not be permitted to lay her secret history bare, especially when that history plainly shows that her life, like all lives, has its good side as well as its bad side! None of us are perfect, for which reason we should heed the voice of charity when it whispers in our ears, "Do not magnify the imperfections of others." Had Mrs. Lincoln's acts never become public property, I should not have published to the world the secret chapters of her life. I am not the special champion of the widow of our lamented President; the reader of the pages which follow will discover that I have written with the utmost frankness in regard to her—have exposed her faults as well as given her credit for honest motives. I wish the world to judge her as she is, free from the exaggerations of praise or scandal, since I have been associated with her in so many things that have provoked hostile criticism; and the judgment that the world may pass upon her, I flatter myself, will present my own actions in a better light.

Some may accuse me of writing too freely about certain matters, especially Mrs. Lincoln. I do not think I have. At least, my motives have been pure. By her own actions, Mrs. Lincoln brought notoriety upon herself. She stepped beyond the customary boundaries of private life and invited public criticism. The public has judged her harshly. No woman has ever been more slandered in the country’s newspapers. The public knew nothing of the private history behind her actions. So people judged her by what came to the surface. An action may seem wrong when judged on its own. But when its motive is understood, it may be seen differently. I hold it as a basic truth that an act is criminal in God’s sight only when crime is intended. Mrs. Lincoln may have been imprudent, but her intentions were good. She should therefore be judged more kindly than she has been. But the public does not know what her intentions were. People know only her actions, not the feelings that guided them. If the public is to judge her as I have, people must learn the private history behind her actions. The veil of mystery must be drawn aside. The origins of a fact must be brought to light along with the fact itself. If I have betrayed any confidence in what I have published, it was to show Mrs. Lincoln in a better light. A breach of trust of this kind, if it can be called a breach, is always excusable. My own character is at stake, as well as Mrs. Lincoln’s. I have been closely associated with her during the most eventful periods of her life. I have been her confidante and have taken part in all her activities. So if she is accused of wrongdoing, those charges must be laid against me too. To defend myself, I must defend the lady I have served. The public has judged Mrs. Lincoln by the facts on the surface. Through her, people have also partly judged me. The only way to convince them that we intended no wrong is to explain the motives that guided us. I have written nothing that can make Mrs. Lincoln look worse to the public than she already does. The private history I publish can therefore do her no harm. I have left everything personal out of her letters. The extracts I include refer only to public figures and shed light on her unfortunate venture in New York. These letters were not written for publication, which makes them all the more valuable. They are frank expressions of the heart, spontaneous impulses, and a key to her true motives. They prove that her motive was pure. If they help silence the voice of slander, I am content. I have not forgotten what happened before the newspapers vilified Mrs. Lincoln. Ladies who moved in the same Washington circle freely discussed her character among themselves. They delighted in many a scandalous tale that grew out of gossip within their own circle. If these ladies could say every bad thing about the President’s wife, why should I not be allowed to reveal her private history? It shows plainly that her life, like every life, has its good side as well as its bad side. None of us are perfect. For that reason, we should listen to charity when it whispers in our ears, "Do not exaggerate the imperfections of others." If Mrs. Lincoln’s actions had never become public, I would not have published the private chapters of her life. I am not the special champion of our lamented President’s widow. Readers of the following pages will see that I have written about her with complete frankness. I have exposed her faults as well as given her credit for honest motives. I want the world to judge her as she is, without exaggerated praise or scandal. I have been involved with her in so many things that have provoked hostile criticism. And I flatter myself that the judgment the world passes on her will show my own actions in a better light.