McClure's Magazine December, 1895

In Short

This periodical edition captures the spirit of the 1890s by blending biographical reverence for American icons with a diverse array of storytelling. It features a detailed look at Abraham Lincoln’s formative years in Indiana, personal reflections from writers like Elizabeth Stuart Phelps and Hall Caine, and several works of short fiction set in places ranging from Oregon to the Holy Land. The magazine serves as a mirror to the era, prioritizing the "spiritual intent" of biography and the moral weight of character in both life and literature.

The Story

The magazine leads with a scholarly investigation into the early life of Abraham Lincoln. It traces his growth from a seven-year-old boy in the Indiana wilderness to a man of twenty-one, emphasizing the lack of formal guidance in his youth and the profound influence of the women in his life. The text posits that Lincoln’s greatness was not an accident but a result of a deep, innate determination to learn and "be something." It recounts his physical prowess—his legendary strength with an axe and his ability to out-wrestle his peers—while carefully navigating the line between historical fact and the embellishments of memory. The article clarifies his early, humble beginnings in New Salem and uses correspondence from contemporaries to argue that his character was already marked by a distinct, superior intelligence long before he entered the national stage.

Following this historical anchor, the magazine pivots to the personal histories of the authors themselves. Elizabeth Stuart Phelps contributes a chapter from her life, reflecting on the burden of autobiography and the immense, shaping influence of her father, a Christian scholar. She writes with a wistful, reflective tone about the passage of time and the bond between writer and reader. Similarly, Hall Caine’s life is examined, detailing his transition from a difficult, impoverished upbringing to his literary apprenticeship under Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Caine describes his own rigorous, agonizing writing process—composing chapters entirely in his head before committing them to paper—and his pursuit of a "problem of life" in his novels.

The magazine then shifts into fictional narratives that explore themes of longing, secret burdens, and moral reckoning. One story follows a man named Jimmy Spence, an actor who goes missing and eventually returns from the African wilderness, struggling to reconcile his past life with the changes in his friends. Another piece, "A Point of Knucklin' Down," portrays the domestic tensions in an Oregon household, focusing on a mother-in-law, her son, and his wife, whose small, prideful conflicts are resolved through a gesture of Christmas reconciliation. Finally, the issue touches on travel and the physical world, describing the harsh realities of maritime travel in the Holy Land and the historic, symbolic value of "Burns’s Whistle," a relic of a legendary Scottish drinking bout. The issue concludes with a series of letters from public figures regarding a newly surfaced photograph of Lincoln, highlighting the radical, visible evolution of his face from youth to his time of national fame.

How It Unfolds

The boy in the wilderness The account begins by situating a young Lincoln in Spencer County, Indiana, focusing on his development in a rough pioneer environment. It credits the earnestness of his mother and step-mother for fostering his early, untutored hunger for books and self-improvement.

The legend of the laborer The narrative transitions to his young adulthood, highlighting his immense physical strength as a laborer and flatboat-man. It addresses the common myths surrounding his early anti-slavery stances, tempering popular anecdotes with more grounded, skeptical historical perspectives.

The shift to the professional writer The focus turns to the lives of the magazine's contributors, specifically Elizabeth Stuart Phelps and Hall Caine. These autobiographical sketches explore the intellectual environments that created these writers, emphasizing the labor and "agony" inherent in producing fiction.

Domestic and dramatic resolutions The fiction sections present intimate, isolated snapshots of human conflict. These stories move from the quiet, tense reconciliation of a family in Oregon to the dramatic, adventurous return of a lost actor in London.

The physical and historical legacy The magazine concludes with broader observations on the world, including the brutal conditions of steerage travel at sea and the preservation of historical artifacts like Burns’s whistle. The issue ends with reflections on Lincoln’s portrait, framing his face as a map of the internal development that shaped American history.

The People

Abraham Lincoln serves as the central figure of the historical portions. He is characterized by a "passion to know" and an intense, restless ambition that drives him to rise above his pioneer surroundings. He is portrayed as a man who, despite his immense physical power, was primarily defined by a mental alertness and a desire for social and moral significance.

Elizabeth Stuart Phelps acts as a guide to the literary life, characterized by a deep, filial devotion to her father, whom she describes as the "climate" of her intellectual existence. She approaches her own life story with hesitation and a profound respect for the reader's role in her career.

Hall Caine is presented as a man of extreme, almost obsessive, professional discipline. He is defined by his grueling, memory-based writing process and his insistence that a novel must possess a "spiritual intent." His relationship with Rossetti shows a man capable of deep, sacrificial friendship.

Jimmy Spence, the subject of one of the narratives, represents the volatile, emotional life of the actor. He is a man of extremes—capable of deep dejection and dark wanderings, yet prone to spontaneous joy and loyalty.

In Its Own Voice

"He had developed a determination to make something out of himself, and a desire to know, which led him to neglect no opportunity to learn."

The author explains the foundation of Lincoln's character, arguing that his self-education was the defining trait of his youth in Indiana.

"There is a gray day, on gray Cape Ann, as I write these words."

Elizabeth Stuart Phelps sets the mood for her autobiographical chapter, using the atmosphere of her home to reflect the uncertainty of looking back on one's own life.

What It's Really About

The issue is fundamentally an exploration of the "making" of a person—whether that person is a president, a writer, or a fictional character. It asks how early influences, such as a parent’s ideals or the harshness of a pioneer landscape, manifest in the later life of an individual. There is a persistent argument that greatness and artistic success require a period of profound, often agonizing, labor and a willingness to confront the "problems of life" directly. By placing historical accounts of Lincoln alongside the personal confessions of modern authors, the magazine suggests that the trajectory of a life is rarely a straight path, but a series of choices and responses to one's own character and circumstances.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy historical miscellany and the slow, deliberate prose of the late 19th century will find this magazine deeply engaging. It offers a rare, unfiltered look at how a previous generation curated its own history and identity. The language is rich and often sentimental, typical of the Victorian era, which provides both a charming, atmospheric reading experience and a window into the period’s specific moral sensibilities.

The magazine’s primary challenge lies in its variety; it is a collection of fragments, meaning the reader must be prepared to jump from the heavy, reverent tone of Lincoln’s biography to the more whimsical, sometimes melodramatic, style of the short fiction. Modern readers may also notice the lingering traces of 19th-century patriarchal attitudes, particularly in how the domestic lives of women are discussed or how the "native boatmen" in the travel sketch are depicted. However, for those who value the "human interest" style of early journalism—where the focus is on the moral weight of a person’s actions—there is much to appreciate. The portrait of Lincoln, described by contemporaries as a key to understanding his inner life, lingers long after the final page, serving as a reminder of how our public history is always tied to the quiet, often invisible developments of our private lives.