Historians, writers, and biographers agree that the marriage of Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, to Mary Todd was the most wretched marriage any head of government has ever known. Lincoln had barely gotten through the first week of his marriage when he wrote a letter to Samuel Marshall in which he says: "There is no news that people are talking about except my marriage, which seems to me a matter of profound wonder!" This letter is preserved at the Chicago Historical Society. William Herndon, Lincoln's colleague at the bar, who lived alongside him for a long stretch and knew him better than anyone, tells us of his life, saying: "I never knew Lincoln to be happy a single day in the twenty years of his married life!" Herndon believes that his colleague's marriage was one of the causes of the sharp pain and bitter despair that clung to him all his life. Dale Carnegie, who wrote a biography of Abraham Lincoln, says that his marriage was the one tragedy

of his life. What, then, was the cause of this tragedy? And why did the man suffer this bitter misery, as his biographers put it?

Dale Carnegie dwells at length on these causes, saying: After his marriage Lincoln noticed that the gulf between him and his wife was vast, and that they were two opposites that could never agree — oppo-sites in character, in taste, and in schooling, indeed opposites in every last desire. Mary Todd was a grad-uate of a school in Kentucky reserved for the children of the well-to-do, frequented only by those who professed haughtiness and looked down upon the rest of mankind. She spoke French with surpassing skill and in the Parisian accent; she was in truth the most cultivated of the young women of Illinois and the most learned of them all, while Lincoln attended school no more than twelve months in all the years of his life.

Mary Todd adored dress: she would pick out the loveliest fashions and the brightest colors and spend a great deal of money on them to satisfy her craving, while Lincoln never took the least care of his appearance; indeed he was often seen walking along the road with one trouser leg hitched up to his knee while the other hung down to the sole of his foot. Mary took the greatest pains over adorning the table and keeping strictly to mealtimes, while her husband was forever absent from the house and rarely to be found at the table at the appointed hour; and often he would work his knife into the butter hastily and in a manner that provoked his wife — indeed drove her to fury and shouting. She was exceedingly haughty and full of pride, while he was gentle and noble. To all this she added her cruel jealousy: she would clamor and rage if she saw her husband look at another woman, which has moved her biographers to disgust and aversion at her doings.

Among the curious things related is that Lincoln, after the announcement of his engagement to Mary, wrote her a letter saying that he did not love her greatly and that he therefore could not marry her, and gave the letter to one of his closest friends, Joshua Speed, to carry to her. But Joshua tore up the letter and said to him: "Go and tell her that yourself. And Lincoln went and opened his heart to Mary, but she wept and grieved, whereupon he could do nothing but take her in his arms and cover her with kisses, begging forgiveness, for he could not bear the sight

of a woman crying..." The wedding hour drew near, on the first day of January in the year 1841; the cake was prepared, the guests streamed in, and the minister arrived — but Lincoln did not appear. What was the reason? His wife's sister spoke of the reason, saying: Lincoln had lost his mind — and her husband bears her out in this. His friends searched for him everywhere and could not find him, until dawn broke and they came upon him in a remote spot, raving in broken words; and when they asked him what he had done, he answered them: "I do not want to live any longer." The truth is that he had sunk into a fathomless sea of gloom and despair, and melancholy seized him, so much so that he composed a poem on suicide, which one of the Springfield newspapers published, and his companions hid a knife from him for fear he would kill himself.

Afterward Lincoln wrote a sorrowful letter to his colleague at the bar, who was then in Congress, saying:

"I am now the most miserable man alive, and if what I feel of misery were distributed among the human race, you would not meet one cheerful face nor one smiling mouth upon the face of the earth — and would that this never come true. It is impossible for me to remain as I am, for I must either die or be better."

Lincoln remained two years in this state, until one of his friends succeeded in reconciling him with Mary and persuaded her to marry — and so they did. It is told that Lincoln was once sipping his morning coffee in one of the Springfield hotels, his wife with him and many patrons about, when Lincoln said a word that angered his wife, and upon it she flung the cup of coffee in his face; but he uttered not a syllable and did not rebuke her, and the mistress of the hotel hurried over with a towel and water, and he washed his face and cleaned his clothes.

Yet with all this we must not press too hard in blaming Lincoln's wife nor be excessive in censuring her, for her turbulent nature and violent temper led her, years later, into madness, and she died insane. Dale Carnegie says: The thing I have learned about Abraham Lincoln is that he bore the misery of his married life with beautiful patience and long-suffering spirit for twenty-three years, never once complaining or grumbling; rather he endured the pain as Christ the Lord did, with fortitude and good patience.

Matta Ishaq al-Hamali Proprietor of the literary newspaper al-Jadawil Basra — al-Ashar