Mr. Abbott,—-Some time since I promised you that I would send a letter in relation to Mr. Lincoln's religion. I do so now. Before entering on that question, one or two preliminary remarks will help us to understand why he disagreed with the Christian world in its principles, as well as in its theology. In the first place, Mr. Lincoln's mind was a purely logical mind; secondly, Mr. Lincoln was purely a practical man. He had no fancy or imagination, and not much emotion. He was a realist as opposed to an idealist. As a general rule, it is true that a purely logical mind has not much hope, if it ever has faith in the unseen and unknown. Mr. Lincoln had not much hope and no faith in things that lie outside of the domain of demonstration: he was so constituted, so organized, that he could believe nothing unless his senses or logic could reach it. I have often read to him a law point, a decision, or something I fancied: he could not understand it until he took the book out of my hand, and read the thing for himself. He was terribly, vexatiously sceptical. He could scarcely understand any thing, unless he had time and place fixed in his mind.
I became acquainted with Mr. Lincoln in 1834, and I think I knew him well to the day of his death. His mind, when a boy in Kentucky, showed a certain gloom, an unsocial nature, a peculiar abstractedness, a bold and daring scepticism. In Indiana, from 1817 to 1830, it manifested the same qualities or attributes as in Kentucky: it only intensified, developed itself, along those lines, in Indiana. He came to Illinois in 1830, and, after some little roving, settled in New Salem, now in Menard County and State of Illinois. This village lies about twenty miles north-west of this city. It was here that Mr. Lincoln became acquainted with a class of men the world never saw the like of before or since. They were large men,—large in body and large in mind; hard to whip, and never to be fooled. They were a bold, daring, and reckless sort of men; they were men of their own minds,—believed what was demonstrable; were men of great common sense. With these men Mr. Lincoln was thrown; with them he lived, and with them he moved, and almost had his being. They were sceptics all,—scoffers some. These scoffers were good men, and their scoffs were protests against theology,—loud protests against the follies of Christianity: they had never heard of theism and the newer and better religious thoughts of this age. Hence, being natural sceptics, and being bold, brave men, they uttered their thoughts freely: they declared that Jesus was an illegitimate child.... They were on all occasions, when opportunity offered, debating the various questions of Christianity among themselves: they took their stand on common sense and on their own souls; and, though their arguments were rude and rough, no man could overthrow their homely logic. They riddled all divines, and not unfrequently made them sceptics,—disbelievers as bad as themselves. They were a jovial, healthful, generous, social, true, and manly set of people.
It was here, and among these people, that Mr. Lincoln was thrown. About the year 1834, he chanced to come across Volney's "Ruins," and some of Paine's theological works. He at once seized hold of them, and assimilated them into his own being. Volney and Paine became a part of Mr. Lincoln from 1834 to the end of his life. In 1835 he wrote out a small work on "Infidelity," and intended to have it published. The book was an attack upon the whole grounds of Christianity, and especially was it an attack upon the idea that Jesus was the Christ, the true and only-begotten Son of God, as the Christian world contends. Mr. Lincoln was at that time in New Salem, keeping store for Mr. Samuel Hill, a merchant and postmaster of that place. Lincoln and Hill were very friendly. Hill, I think, was a sceptic at that time. Lincoln, one day after the book was finished, read it to Mr. Hill, his good friend. Hill tried to persuade him not to make it public, not to publish it. Hill at that time saw in Mr. Lincoln a rising man, and wished him success. Lincoln refused to destroy it, said it should be published. Hill swore it should never see light of day. He had an eye, to Lincoln's popularity,—his present and future success; and believing, that if the book were published, it would kill Lincoln forever, he snatched it from Lincoln's hand, when Lincoln was not expecting it, and ran it into an old-fashioned tin-plate stove, heated as hot as a furnace; and so Lincoln's book went up to the clouds in smoke. It is confessed by all who heard parts of it, that it was at once able and eloquent; and, if I may judge of it from Mr. Lincoln's subsequent ideas and opinions, often expressed to me and to others in my presence, it was able, strong, plain, and fair. His argument was grounded on the internal mistakes of the Old and New Testaments, and on reason, and on the experiences and observations of men. The criticisms from internal defects were sharp, strong, and manly.
Mr. Lincoln moved to this city in 1837, and here became acquainted with various men of his own way of thinking. At that time they called themselves free-thinkers, or free-thinking men. I remember all these things distinctly; for I was with them, heard them, and was one of them. Mr. Lincoln here found other works,—Hume, Gibbon, and others,—and drank them in: he made no secret of his views, no concealment of his religion. He boldly avowed himself an infidel. When Mr. Lincoln was a candidate for our Legislature, he was accused of being an infidel, and of having said that Jesus Christ was an illegitimate child: he never denied his opinions, nor flinched from his religious views; he was a true man, and yet it may be truthfully said, that in 1837 his religion was low indeed. In his moments of gloom he would doubt, if he did not sometimes deny, God. He made me once erase the name of God from a speech which I was about to make in 1854; and he did this in the city of Washington to one of his friends. I cannot now name the man, nor the place he occupied in Washington: it will be known sometime. I have the evidence, and intend to keep it.
Mr. Lincoln ran for Congress, against the Rev. Peter Cartwright, in the year 1847 or 1848. In that contest he was accused of being an infidel, if not an atheist; he never denied the charge; would not; "would die first:" in the first place, because he knew it could and would be proved on him; and in the second place he was too true to his own convictions, to his own soul, to deny it. From what I know of Mr. Lincoln, and from what I have heard and verily believe, I can say, First, That he did not believe in a special creation, his idea being that all creation was an evolution under law; Secondly, That he did not believe that the Bible was a special revelation from God, as the Christian world contends; Thirdly, He did not believe in miracles, as understood by the Christian world; Fourthly, He believed in universal inspiration and miracles under law; Fifthly, He did not believe that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of God, as the Christian world contends; Sixthly, He believed that all things, both matter and mind, were governed by laws, universal, absolute, and eternal. All his speeches and remarks in Washington conclusively prove this. Law was to Lincoln every thing, and special interferences shams and delusions. I know whereof I speak. I used to loan him Theodore Parker's works: I loaned him Emerson sometimes, and other writers; and he would sometimes read, and sometimes would not, as I suppose,—nay, know.
When Mr. Lincoln left this city for Washington, I know he had undergone no change in his religious opinions or views. He held many of the Christian ideas in abhorrence, and among them there was this one; namely, that God would forgive the sinner for a violation of his laws. Lincoln maintained that God could not forgive; that punishment has to follow the sin; that Christianity was wrong in teaching forgiveness; that it tended to make man sin in the hope that God would excuse, and so forth. Lincoln contended that the minister should teach that God has affixed punishment to sin, and that no repentance could bribe him to remit it. In one sense of the word, Mr. Lincoln was a Universalist, and in another sense he was a Unitarian; but he was a theist, as we now understand that word: he was so fully, freely, unequivocally, boldly, and openly, when asked for his views. Mr. Lincoln was supposed, by many people in this city, to be an atheist; and some still believe it. I can put that supposition at rest forever. I hold a letter of Mr. Lincoln in my hand, addressed to his step-brother, John D. Johnston, and dated the twelfth day of January, 1851. He had heard from Johnston that his father, Thomas Lincoln, was sick, and that no hopes of his recovery were entertained. Mr. Lincoln wrote back to Mr. Johnston these words:—
"I sincerely hope that father may yet recover his health; but, at all events, tell him to remember to call upon and confide in One great and good and merciful Maker, who will not turn away from him in any extremity. He notes the fall of a sparrow, and numbers the hairs of our heads; and he will not forget the dying man who puts his trust in him. Say to him, that, if we could meet now, it is doubtful whether it would not be more painful than pleasant; but that, if it be his lot to go now, he will soon have a joyous meeting with many loved ones gone before, and where the rest of us, through the help of God, hope ere long to join them.
"A. Lincoln."
So it seems that Mr. Lincoln believed in God and immortality as well as heaven,—a place. He believed in no hell and no punishment in the future world. It has been said to me that Mr. Lincoln wrote the above letter to an old man simply to cheer him up in his last moments, and that the writer did not believe what he said. The question is, Was Mr. Lincoln an honest and truthful man? If he was, he wrote that letter honestly, believing it. It has to me the sound, the ring, of an honest utterance. I admit that Mr. Lincoln, in his moments of melancholy and terrible gloom, was living on the borderland between theism and atheism,—sometimes quite wholly dwelling in atheism. In his happier moments he would swing back to theism, and dwell lovingly there. It is possible that Mr. Lincoln was not always responsible for what he said or thought, so deep, so intense, so terrible, was his melancholy. I send you a lecture of mine which will help you to see what I mean. I maintain that Mr. Lincoln was a deeply-religious man at all times and places, in spite of his transient doubts.
Soon after Mr. Lincoln was assassinated, Mr. Holland came into my office, and made some inquiries about him, stating to me his purpose of writing his life. I freely told him what he asked, and much more. He then asked me what I thought about Mr. Lincoln's religion, meaning his views of Christianity. I replied, "The less said, the better." Mr. Holland has recorded my expression to him (see Holland's "Life of Lincoln," p. 241). I cannot say what Mr. Holland said to me, as that was private. It appears that he went and saw Mr. Newton Bateman, Superintendent of Public Instruction in this State. It appears that Mr. Bateman told Mr. Holland many things, if he is correctly represented in Holland's "Life of Lincoln" (pp. 236-241, inclusive). I doubt whether Mr. Bateman said in full what is recorded there: I doubt a great deal of it. I know the whole story is untrue,—untrue in substance, untrue in fact and spirit. As soon as the "Life of Lincoln" was out, on reading that part here referred to, I instantly sought Mr. Bateman, and found him in his office. I spoke to him politely and kindly, and he spoke to me in the same manner. I said substantially to him that Mr. Holland, in order to make Mr. Lincoln a technical Christian, made him a hypocrite; and so his "Life of Lincoln" quite plainly says. I loved Mr. Lincoln, and was mortified, if not angry, to see him made a hypocrite. I cannot now detail what Mr. Bateman said, as it was a private conversation, and I am forbidden to make use of it in public. If some good gentleman can only get the seal of secrecy removed, I can show what was said and done. On my word, the world may take it for granted that Holland is wrong, that he does not state Mr. Lincoln's views correctly. Mr. Bateman, if correctly represented in Holland's "Life of Lincoln," is the only man, the sole and only man, who dare say that Mr. Lincoln believed in Jesus as the Christ of God, as the Christian world represents. This is not a pleasant situation for Mr. Bateman. I have notes and dates of our conversation; and the world will sometime know who is truthful, and who is otherwise. I doubt whether Bateman is correctly represented by Holland. My notes bear date Dec. 3, 12, and 28, 1866. Some of our conversations were in the spring of 1866 and the fall of 1865.