Last week, we learned the details of Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg address from some of the people who actually witnessed the historic speech in person. The details of that day are well documented. What happened to the speaker during the days and weeks immediately afterwards are not as well known. Lincoln would pay a hefty price for his stressful “25-hour-day” spent in Gettysburg. Although Lincoln may have left the famed battlefield feeling wary and unsure of any impact his address might have made that day, most historians today view it as the greatest speech in American history. What most do not realize however is just how close we came to losing the man himself after he delivered that mystical oratory.
Lincoln’s dedicatory remarks took but a few minutes, after which a dirge was sung by a choir selected for the occasion followed by a benediction prayer by Reverend H.L. Baugher, D.D. The program ended at approximately 4 p.m. and Lincoln was escorted back to the center of town by the Marine Band and other members of the military. After a late lunch at the Wills house, Lincoln greeted guests in an informal reception there. Standing in the hallway which faces York Street, he met visitors such as John L. Burns, the 69-year-old former Gettysburg police constable and War of 1812 veteran who was wounded three times after spontaneously joining Union troops of the Iron Brigade in the first day’s battle. Burns was the only civilian whom Lincoln specifically asked to meet in Gettysburg and the President was delighted to attend a subsequent church ceremony with him.
Lincoln walked arm-in-arm with Burns down Baltimore Street to the last event of the day at the Gettysburg Presbyterian Church. Here they heard a speech by Charles Anderson, Lieutenant Governor of Ohio. The president then hurried off to the train station and his duties in Washington, after which, at around 6 p.m., Lincoln left the once sleepy borough back to Washington, D.C. via the Gettysburg Railroad. The last sight to meet Lincoln’s eyes as he left the Gettyburg depot was a stack of coffins of soldiers who had recently died in the hospitals throughout Gettysburg. The plain white caskets gleamed in the setting rays of the sun for these brave boys en route to their final resting places all over the country. Once again in the semi-private quarters on the Presidential train, Lincoln collapsed.
Lincoln’s valet and personal barber, William H. Johnson, sat with the great man, dutifully wiping his face with a wet cloth to cool his growing fever. Johnson, a trusted ally and servant of the Lincoln family dating back to their years in Springfield, Illinois, was likely the only African-American on board that train. Abraham Lincoln, all 6 feet 4 inches of him, lay prostrate across a padded bench. His palms were clammy as sweat beaded upon his brow while his skin began to sprout small angry red patches. Although no one aboard dared guess at the President’s malady, one thought hung thickly in the air: smallpox.
By the time Lincoln returned to Washington, he had become so feverish and plagued by severe headaches and back pain that he had to be helped into the White House by Johnson. Here, he was confined (well, as much as one could confine Lincoln) to bed for the next few days. By the fourth day of symptoms, the red rash had developed into scattered blisters. The president’s personal physician, Dr. Robert King Stone, first diagnosed him with a cold, then ‘bilious fever’ (an early name for malaria), and then scarletina (scarlet fever). Both scarlet fever and malaria were common in early 19th century America especially in Lincoln’s home state of Illinois.
Strangely, Dr. Stone’s records never mention the word “smallpox” although he attended the president throughout the entire ordeal, most likely for fear of public stigma attached to this dread disease that so often ended in death. As the rash progressed, Dr. Washington Chew Van Bibber was called in for a consultation. After examining the President, he diagnosed a mild case of smallpox (varioloid). Much later, Dr. Van Bibber’s version of a conversation with the President was recorded in the autobiography of another surgeon:
“Mr President, if I were to give a name to your malady, I should say that you have a touch of varioloid.’ (the old fashioned name for smallpox). ‘Then am I to understand that I have the smallpox?’ Lincoln asked, to which the doctor assented. ‘How interesting’, said Mr Lincoln. ‘I find that every now and then unpleasant situations in life may have certain compensation. As you came in just now, did you pass through the waiting room?’ He replied, ‘I passed through a room full of people’. ‘Yes, that’s the waiting room, and its always full of people. Do you have any idea what they are there for?’ ‘Well’, said the Doctor, ‘perhaps I could guess.’ ‘Yes,’ said Mr Lincoln, ‘they are there, every mother’s son of them, for one purpose only; namely to, to get something from me. For once in my life as President, I find myself in a position to give everybody something!’”
By Day 10, the fever was decreasing and the rash was beginning to itch and peel. The weakness persisted the longest, preventing him from returning to work for official business for 25 days. Visitors report that he was beginning to walk briefly by December 7 (day 19 of symptoms) and that marks of the rash were visible but few if any remained as facial scars. On December 15 he was able to work for a few hours and later that day attended a play at Ford’s Theater. A month later on January 12 he was reported as having regained most of his old vigor, though he appeared to be even more underweight than usual.
Lincoln contracting smallpox was not entirely surprising considering that his son Tad had been ill with fever for two weeks before his father left for Gettysburg. Lincoln received a telegram from Mary upon his arrival at Gettysburg that “Little Taddie” was doing much better. This undoubtedly helped the President to strengthen his spirit and enable him to deliver those now legendary “few brief remarks” that changed our country forever. Still, Lincoln’s unhealthy appearance and brevity of words at Gettysburg were originally cited as a direct result of his illness. Undoubtedly, the fact that two of Lincoln’s sons had previously died of high fever weighed heavily on his mind at Gettysburg. Those frightful realities must surely have been floating through Lincoln’s mind like fearful daydreams as Lincoln drifted in and out of consciousness on that Washington, D.C. bound train.
Modern historians have determined that Lincoln indeed had smallpox, but have struggled to determine whether he had a full blown case or a mild case due to a previous vaccination (known in those days as variolization). Modern treatment methods use the related vaccinia virus (cowpox) to elicit immunity that will protect against smallpox through vaccinations. Variolization takes material from an active smallpox lesion and inoculates a healthy person through a cut in the skin. Variolization is riskier than vaccination because it can produce a full blown case of smallpox. Yet, smallpox was so devastating, with such a high mortality rate (about 30 percent), that people were willing to undergo variolization, and the mild case of smallpox it usually created, to increase their chances of surviving the dread disease. Variolization was the accepted method used during Lincoln’s youth but no evidence has ever been found that Lincoln had ever been immunized against smallpox. A better argument might be made that Lincoln developed a slight immunity to the disease from previous exposure to his two son’s deadlier cases.
The President’s illness caused great concern among the public. After all, smallpox was highly contagious. Still, the President had frequent visitors during his illness including an old ally Rep. Owen Lovejoy of Illinois. At one point rumors circulated around Washington that the President was dying. Ironically, Lincoln’s trip to Ford’s Theater on December 15 was not so much about seeing a stage performance, but more about showing himself to the public. Lincoln had no way of knowing that his chosen venue that day would be the very same stage where he would play out the last tragic act of his life less than a year and a half later. After all, we can only imagine the effect that these rumors could have had on the war effort in the winter of 1863-64 if they had spread unchecked. With a 30 percent fatality rate, the public had a right to be concerned over the President’s health. We can only imagine the effect of the President’s death in December 1863 could have had on the war.
Americans regard Gettysburg as hallowed ground and Lincoln’s address as sacred text. Today the Gettysburg National Cemetery remains the picture of serenity, serving as the burial ground for American veterans from all major wars and conflicts. Lincoln’s spiritual vocabulary ties us to Gettysburg by a “mystic chord,” as Lincoln himself once said. There can be no doubt, magic happened at Gettysburg, but lo these 150 years later we have long since lost sight of it. Lincoln predicted that “The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.” Next week, in the last installment of these articles, we will try and wrap our heads around the reason this speech remains so important to every American.
Next week: Part IV-Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address
Al Hunter is the author of “Haunted Indianapolis” and co-author of the “Indiana National Road” and “Haunted Irvington” book series. Contact Al directly at Huntvault@aol.com or become a friend on Facebook.
