As I’ve been reading a number of Lincoln books lately, I’ve spent a good amount of time Googling anecdotes that rang false to me, tracking down primary sources to judge the veracity of some of the stories the authors tell (isn’t that what the authors themselves are supposed to do?) So I thought I’d give this book a read, to preemptively inform myself about some other questionable Lincoln stories I may read in the future.
The book doesn’t necessarily dispel commonly-held Lincoln myths so much as it explores, chapter by chapter, some of the more fanciful and elaborate Lincoln hoaxes that have been perpetuated over the years. So the stories of the legends and lies themselves and how they came to be are sometimes more interesting than Steers’ careful efforts to refute them.
The first chapter, for example, traces the fascinating backstory of what’s now known as the “symbolic birthplace cabin” and how it was presented over the years as the genuine Lincoln log cabin. Other chapters explore the supposed reinterment of Ann Rutledge’s remains, and forged documents such as purported Lincoln-Rutledge letters and an ostensible lost draft of the Gettysburg Address.
Most of the legends are rather obscure and not all that credible, though, so by the time they’re fully described, the ensuing refutations of them aren’t necessarily compelling. In one chapter on Lincoln’s supposed “secret baptism,” Steers carefully examines census data, weather conditions and train schedules to debunk a story that already seems implausible. Another chapter spends a good deal of time refuting various rumors of Lincoln’s illegitimacy, which Steers acknowledges have largely “faded from the public’s mind” anyway.
Early Lincoln biographers like William Herndon and Carl Sandburg come under scrutiny for originating or perpetuating stories that may be exaggerated or invented. Steers traces the story of the doomed Lincoln-Rutledge romance back to Herndon, who he says gathered witness testimony both for and against a possible relationship, but opted to believe only those who supported it. Sandburg’s biography popularized the story, as well as others like Lincoln’s mythical surprise congressional testimony before a committee investigating his wife.
Chapter 7 stands out in that it’s the only one that doesn’t really reach authoritative, definitive conclusions. It examines the authorship of the “Bixby letter,” the famous condolence letter written to a war widow that some believe Lincoln’s secretary actually wrote. Steers concludes that Lincoln himself wrote it, but that’s only his opinion, since the issue is still hotly debated and may never be resolved with certainty.
Only a couple of chapters are devoted to more well-known myths, such as when and where Lincoln authored the Gettysburg Address (it wasn’t on the train, on the back of an envelope). Steers also addresses the “Lincoln was gay” rumors, thoroughly dissecting their flimsiness, but attacking the messengers in a somewhat homophobic way (one who promoted the theory, he writes, was “an admitted homosexual” who aimed to have Lincoln “join the ranks of homosexuals in modern America” in order to “add legitimacy to being gay.”)
The book ultimately loses steam toward the end, as the last four chapters are more about John Wilkes Booth than Lincoln himself. Steers explores the guilt or innocence of Samuel Mudd, the supposed “lost pages” of Booth’s diary, the identity of the man who held Booth’s horse outside of Ford's Theater, and several conspiracy theories about who really killed Lincoln and whether Booth really survived and escaped. The overly-detailed theories themselves are rather outlandish and implausible, so the careful debunking of them is not particularly interesting.
And that’s how the book ends. As an examination of the various myths that have built up around Lincoln, this is an entertaining enough quick read. But unless the next Lincoln biography I read breathlessly refers to Lincoln’s lost love letters to Ann Rutledge, or speculates about where Booth really ended up after the assassination, I can’t say that I’ve learned much that will save me from going down a Google rabbit hole the next time I read a Lincoln anecdote that seems too good to be true.