Abraham Lincoln Sat (and Flirted) Here

If this nearly 200-year-old sofa could talk, it would tell tales of political history, flowery poetry and stormy romance. It was literally the front seat during the courtship and wedding of Abraham Lincoln and Mary Todd, and the story of how it was restored says something about why we value antiques and how technology can bring us together.

According to Erika Holst, curator of collections at the Springfield Art Association, it all started in 1839 in Springfield, Illinois. Mary Todd (seen on the right) was a single woman, age 20. She moved north from Lexington, Kentucky, to live with her brother-in-law and sister, Ninian and Elizabeth Edwards. “Mary Todd’s mother had died, and her father remarried and had nine additional children. Her stepmother is said to have favored her biological family, and Todd wanted to leave the house as soon as possible,” says Holst. “At the time, Springfield had just been named the state capital. It was filled with political and professional people. Essentially, it was a great place to meet a husband.”

Enter a 30-year-old lawyer who, like Todd, had a head for politics and a heart for poetry. Abraham Lincoln (seen on the left) and Todd were introduced by her family. “In those days the family would invite a gentleman to call,” says Holst. “It would have been considered too forward for a woman to personally invite a man to visit.”


The Edwards family was prosperous, and Elizabeth had been dubbed the first lady of the social scene. Their front parlor reflected their wealth and social stature, and it was outfitted with matching sofas whose frames were crafted from mahogany and whose seats and backs were covered with slippery horsehair fabric. (In that time equine tail hairs were woven with cotton or silk fibers to create a notoriously slick but durable upholstery.) The fabric on the seat back was embossed with a highly decorative design of curling vines and leaves. “Having not one but two upholstered pieces was a status symbol,” says Holst.

It is on these sofas that the courtship of Mary Todd played out. “She was considered the prettiest talker in Springfield. She was knowledgable, amusing and witty,” says Holst. “Years later her sister said, ‘I have happened in the room where they were sitting, and often Mary led the conversation. Lincoln would listen and gaze on her as if drawn by some superior power.’”

Other stories have the couple discussing the 1840 presidential race (Martin Van Buren versus William Henry Harrison) or reciting poetry to each other on the sofas — including Lincoln’s favorite, a sobering poem called “Mortality” by William Knox.


But there was a pause in the thrall. Perhaps due to family pressure, they broke up. Months later they started seeing each other secretly at a friend’s home, and their affection was rekindled. One morning Lincoln stopped Ninian Edwards on the street and announced that he planned to marry Todd that night at a local minister’s home. “Ninian protested that it wouldn’t look right and rushed home to tell his wife to ready the house for a wedding,” says Holst. “Accounts differ, but she was given as little as a day and no more than two or three to put the event together. She had a 5-year-old and a 3-year-old and was seven months pregnant with her next baby.”

The wedding happened in the front parlor on November 4, 1842, and during the ceremony guests were seated on the sofas where the relationship started. The second sofa, which was lost to time after being displayed in Abraham Lincoln’s Springfield home, is pictured here on a postcard.


The other sofa stayed in the Edwards family for many years before it was sold to Charles Roberts in 1880. One of his ancestors gave it to the Springfield Art Association, where it has reigned as the main attraction at Edwards Place for many years.

Edwards Place is a historic home that belonged to Benjamin Edwards (brother of Niniah). As single people and newlyweds, the Lincolns were frequent guests. (The Niniah Edwards home, including the parlor where the couple courted, was torn down in 1917 to make way for state buildings.)

“People make pilgrimages to see the sofa,” says Holst. Until recently what greeted those visitors was a rather drab piece of furniture with a ripped seat and newer (but quite old) upholstery.

“We raised money to have it restored at the Conservation Center in Chicago,” says Holst. “But when we sent the sofa there, they told us it would cost $8,000, and we had only raised $4,000.”

When breaking the news, a Conservation Center communications officer suggested that the group turn to Kickstarter, an online funding platform that allows people to donate money toward a goal.

“I was cautiously optimistic, but many people here believed it would never work. The feeling was that people just don’t fund history,” says Holst. But when the campaign wrapped up after two months, more than 195 people had pledged enough money to make it happen.


But the surprises weren’t over. When conservators painstakingly deconstructed the sofa — which the art association has dubbed the Courting Couch — they found something unexpected. The original, embossed horsehair was hidden beneath the bland skin of the newer upholstery.

And, miraculously, when the sofa arms had been reupholstered many years prior, the original horsehair fabric had been removed, rolled up and stashed in the hollow mahogany arms.

“I think that whoever redid it must have known the history of the sofa and thought it was worth saving,” says Holst.


The restoration was completed in early 2014, and the piece is preparing to celebrate its 179th Independence Day at a temporary home in the nearby Elijah Iles House — Springfield’s oldest home — where it awaits the renovation of Edwards Place, scheduled to be completed in early 2015.

It doesn’t look the way it did when it was new around 1835. The upholstery on the back sags a bit, and you can make out where a rip once marred the seat. But the old mahogany gleams as if warmed by secret kisses — and there’s no doubt Lincoln would recognize his old courting spot. “Of course, it will never look the way it did when it was first made,” says Holst. “But when I saw the pattern in the original horsehair, it gave me chills.”


Today, as the sofa awaits its return home, portraits of Niniah and Elizabeth Edwards hang over it, as if they are still chaperoning activity on the Courting Couch.

“There are very few artifacts that have a direct connection to Lincoln. This is a real piece of his past — and the only piece of furniture with a tangible relationship to his stormy courtship of Mary,” says Holst. “Artifacts like this that allow us to travel through time are growing increasingly rare. It was worth saving this piece for the visceral connection it gives us to the past and to a couple who changed the course of history.”

URL: Abraham Lincoln Sat (and Flirted) Here http://www.decor-ideas.org/cases-view-id-24132.html