Trial of 
 
 Mrs. Abraham 
 
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 HOMER CRO\ 
 
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 A dramatic and moving account, based on 
 new research, of an extraordinary ordeal of 
 the human spirit. 
 
 THE TRIAL OF 
 
 MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 HOMER CROY 
 
 Mary Todd Lincoln had had a tragic life. 
 Three of her four sons had died. In the war 
 years she had been charged with Southern 
 sympathies. She had been pilloried in the 
 press for her extravagance. Her husband's 
 former partner, Herndon, had blackened 
 her character. And in the final bitter blow, 
 her husband was assassinated before her 
 eyes at Ford's Theater. 
 
 Her only living son, Robert, and she were 
 estranged, for her daughter-in-law did not 
 like her. Homeless, she wandered from 
 hotel to hotel. Her few friends— acquaint- 
 ances only— were charmed by her wit, her 
 intelligence, and her knowledge of world 
 affairs and put off by her moodiness, her 
 deep depressions, and her growing eccen- 
 tricities. 
 
 This unhappy woman, deeply marked by 
 tragedy and with little to live for, was sud- 
 denly bundled into the Chicago courthouse 
 where Robert Lincoln, her son, in a shock- 
 ing miscarriage of justice, had her declared 
 legally insane. This is the story of that trial. 
 
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LINCOLN ROOM 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 MEMORIAL 
 
 the Class of 1901 
 
 founded by 
 
 HARLAN HOYT HORNER 
 
 and 
 
 HENRIETTA CALHOUN HORNER 
 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://archive.org/details/trialofmrsabrahaOOcroy 
 
The Trial of 
 MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
Other Books by HOMER CROY 
 
 JESSE JAMES WAS MY NEIGHBOR 
 
 HE HANGED THEM HIGH 
 
 OUR WILL ROGERS 
 
 LAST OF THE GREAT OUTLAWS 
 
 THE LADY FROM COLORADO 
 
 TRIGGER MARSHAL: THE STORY OF CHRIS MADSEN 
 
 STAR MAKER: THE STORY OF D. W. GRIFFITH 
 
The Trial of 
 MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 BY HOMER CROY 
 
 DUELL, SLOAN AND PEARCE 
 New York 
 
COPYRIGHT © 1962 BY HOMER CROY 
 
 All rights reserved. No part of this book in excess 
 of five hundred words may be reproduced in any form 
 without permission in writing from the publisher. 
 
 First Edition 
 
 Affiliate of 
 
 MEREDITH PRESS 
 Des Moines & New York 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGUE CARD NUMBER: 62 -1 5455 
 MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA FOR MEREDITH PRESS 
 VAN REES PRESS • NEW YORK 
 

 Foreword 
 
 ? : ■' 
 
 The reason the story of the sanity trial of Mary Todd 
 Lincoln has never before been told in factual form is that the 
 legal papers were destroyed, and it was almost impossible to 
 come by the facts. Even the docket number of the case dis- 
 appeared. The shorthand notes taken by the court stenog- 
 raphers disappeared, as well as all loose papers. When Ida 
 M. Tarbell was writing her two-volume life of Lincoln, she 
 discovered that most of the official papers were missing; she 
 instituted a search and saved some documents, copies of which 
 are now at Allegheny College, Meadville, Pennsylvania. Wil- 
 liam E. Barton, the father of Bruce Barton, came up against 
 this dead wall when he was investigating the case. He was 
 shocked to find that the official records had been tampered 
 with, in some cases stolen. He communicated with the oldest 
 clerks in the court, but they had never seen, or heard of, the 
 papers. With their help he was able to find some secondary 
 papers that had evidently been overlooked. However, since 
 he worked in this field, many Lincoln letters, sealed for years, 
 have been made available to writers in 1947. 
 
 Carl Sandburg and Paul M. Angle's Mary Lincoln, Wife 
 and Widow, published in 1932, gave the trial only six hun- 
 dred words. But in 1932 there was not much material avail- 
 able. 
 
vi FOREWORD 
 
 I myself have followed, for the most part, the story as it was 
 reported in the Chicago papers, four of which covered the 
 trial. In addition, several state papers had firsthand stories of 
 the event. 
 
 I have written dialogue for which there is no historical 
 support. I've done this only after a study of the characters 
 and what must have been said by them— at least as I under- 
 stand the characters. 
 
 Before I close this Foreword, I want to send up a shout for 
 the best book written (in my opinion) on Mary Todd Lincoln. 
 It is Mary Lincoln: Biography of a Marriage by Ruth Painter 
 Randall. She blows up Herndon until there are only a few 
 whiskers left. And she demolishes the story he started that 
 Lincoln and his wife did not get along well. To anyone who 
 wants to know about Mary Todd Lincoln's full and complete 
 life, I recommend the book. You'll come to know that strange, 
 tortured and yet somehow noble woman. 
 
 H. C. 
 
The Trial of 
 MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
Chapter 7 
 
 J\N outstanding trait of Mary Todd Lincoln's was 
 her love of money. It made her what she was, then, ironically, 
 turned around and destroyed her. It really was not quite 
 that simple, for she loved possessions. But possessions can be 
 thought of as one manifestation of money. In addition to this 
 trait it must be noted that she was extremely volatile. In her 
 youth she was one minute laughing; the next, weeping. This 
 pursued her into age; tears did not come then, but hot words 
 did. And then, in no time at all, she would be calm, con- 
 siderate and delightful. 
 
 Her love of possessions was first remarked when she was a 
 child, in Lexington, Kentucky. When she was seven years 
 old, her mother died. Little Mary was deeply attached to her 
 mother; suddenly her mother was not there. Her father loved 
 his family, but he was aloof and did not give much time to 
 Mary. The child was left alone. Then a new mother came 
 to preside in the house. Mary did not get along with her step- 
 mother. And now the lonely little girl had to build up some- 
 thing she could cling to. This she did in a most simple and 
 natural way— dolls. She gathered around her a great number 
 of dolls, probably more than any other girl in Lexington had. 
 
 3 
 
4 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 They were her protection. As long as she had dolls, she had 
 security. It was that simple to the little girl. 
 
 Her father was one of the well-to-do men of the town, but at 
 about this time a pinch came. There was always danger, she 
 learned, of losing one's money. This, too, made an impression 
 on her— more of one, seemingly, than would have been made 
 on a less sensitive child. She was considered precocious and 
 impressionable, and she was much to herself. As if this wasn't 
 enough handicap for a child to start life with, she had another 
 cross: she had an exceedingly mercurial nature. She would fly 
 into a temper and make a shameful scene. Then, almost as 
 quickly as the sun coming out from behind a cloud, this dis- 
 play would be over, and her own personal sun would be shin- 
 ing. Everybody liked her; she was "popular," and thus, with 
 these emotions within her, she started life. 
 
 She wanted somebody to take care of her. Her father did, 
 indeed, take care of her, but this was an impersonal matter. 
 He took care of his whole family, of which Mary was just 
 one. This trait, too, on top of her other mental complica- 
 tions, was a part of this strangely mixed young personality. 
 She was a strange case of not a dual personality, but a triple 
 one. 
 
 She had these three outstanding traits of character: her 
 love of money, her great desire for possessions and her wish 
 for somebody to protect her. Of course, she had many more 
 convolutions to her character, for no human being can be 
 pared down to three or four traits. She was, as a matter of 
 fact, a vastly complex person, but the traits just mentioned 
 would seem to be the ones which made— and unmade— her. 
 
 A strange working out of these intermingled traits rose 
 to a climax in 1875. In March she went to Jacksonville, 
 Florida. She was depressed and nervous and alone. She had 
 no one she could lean on. But no woman ever had a better 
 
Chapter One 5 
 
 reason to be in a low state. Her husband had been assassinated 
 ten years before, and she had lost three sons, and now she 
 had only one living son, Robert Todd Lincoln, named for 
 her father and herself. 
 
 She was so nervous, so apprehensive, that she walked the 
 floor at night to dispel the terrors of the dark. Of a morning 
 she would have breakfast alone, speaking to hardly anyone. 
 During the day she would wander through the stores, look- 
 ing at the articles on sale. From time to time she would make 
 a purchase, take it to her hotel and put it in a trunk. Then 
 she would go out and sit in the park and watch the people 
 go by, still speaking to no one. At night she would go to her 
 room and face another terrifying time. 
 
 One night she dreamed Robert was ill. She and President 
 Lincoln both believed in dreams. Several times the two had 
 discussed the idea that dreams often held truth and sometimes 
 foretold the future. 
 
 Robert had established himself in Chicago as a rising, if 
 eccentric, young lawyer. He had married the daughter of 
 the richest man in the Senate, Senator James Harlan of Iowa. 
 Robert liked the smell of money, and here he got a very 
 pleasant sniff. Robert had a child that had been named for 
 his mother. Mary Todd Lincoln was delighted with the 
 child; it was the most wonderful in the world; no one could 
 blame a grandmother for believing that. She'd had four sons. 
 Now she had, in a way, a daughter. But trouble came between 
 Robert's wife and his mother. The wife had snobbish friends 
 in Chicago and did not want them to meet her eccentric 
 mother-in-law. Finally she told Robert she did not want his 
 mother to come to the house again. This was a blow to 
 Robert. He could only make the best of it. 
 
 Robert himself had a pronounced inferiority complex; this 
 he tried to hide by his manner of dressing. He was a dandy, 
 
6 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 with a fine tawny beard. He liked to be alone and was curt 
 to people who wanted to see him. "People don't want to see 
 me," he said; "they want to say they've talked to the Presi- 
 dent's son." There the two were— mother and son, each want- 
 ing to come close to the other, but not knowing how. 
 
 Alarmed by her dream, Mary Todd Lincoln, acting with 
 the headlong speed which she so often employed, sent a tele- 
 gram to the Lincoln family doctor in Chicago, Dr. Ralph N. 
 Isham: 
 
 MY BELIEF IS THAT MY SON IS ILL. TELEGRAPH. I START FOR 
 CHICAGO TOMORROW. 
 
 Dr. Isham hurried to Robert Todd Lincoln's office. Was 
 Robert ill? Robert was not; he was in excellent health. And 
 then Dr. Isham showed him the telegram. They would, the 
 two decided, telegraph her that Robert was well and that 
 there was no need for her to come. While they were talking, a 
 messenger arrived with a telegram addressed to Robert: 
 
 MY DEARLY BELOVED SON, ROBERT TODD LINCOLN. ROUSE YOUR- 
 SELF AND LIVE FOR YOUR MOTHER. YOU ARE ALL I HAVE. FROM 
 THIS HOUR ALL I HAVE IS YOURS. I PRAY EVERY NIGHT THAT YOU 
 MAY BE SPARED TO YOUR MOTHER. 
 
 Robert asked himself, What made his mother think he was 
 so ill that she must rush to his bedside? What did she mean 
 by, "From this hour all I have is yours"? Did she mean 
 money? Had she awakened to a realization that she squan- 
 dered money and that her extravagances had put his father 
 into debt? Or did she mean affection? 
 
 He was doubly concerned, for his mother was becoming 
 more and more eccentric. 
 
 He thought first of sending her a telegram telling her that 
 he was not ill and advising her not to come, but he realized 
 it was too late. He went to the depot, when it was time for 
 
Chapter One 7 
 
 the Jacksonville train, and there was his mother: a short, 
 plump woman, five feet and three inches tall, with a face that 
 had once been called beautiful but was now marked with 
 care. She was dressed in somber black, and on her head was a 
 widow's cap. Was this the Mary Todd Lincoln who had once 
 been the belle of Springfield, Illinois? The woman who had 
 captured the love of Stephen A. Douglas and Abraham Lin- 
 coln? And, as to her height, he must have thought of what 
 his father, who was six feet and four inches, had said. His 
 father had smiled and said, "Here's the long and short of it." 
 There was a detail which he noted; she seemed to have on 
 too many skirts. 
 
 He hurried to greet her. "How are you, Mother?" 
 
 "Thank God!" she cried. "Oh, thank God!" 
 
 She looked at him tenderly, asking over and over how he 
 felt. "And how is darling little Mary?" 
 
 "She often asks about you." 
 
 "I would love to see her dear, sweet face again. She is my 
 only girl grandchild." 
 
 "Mother," he said cautiously, "you don't seem to dress as 
 becomingly as you used to." 
 
 "There are more important matters than dress." 
 
 The moment came to leave. "My trunks," she said. "Here 
 are the claim checks." After a delay he was able to find the 
 trunks. He looked in surprise, for there were five of them. 
 
 "I didn't know you had so many, Mother. Do you take 
 that many clothes with you?" 
 
 "There are many things in the trunks besides clothes." 
 
 "I'll have them delivered to my home." 
 
 "I thank you, Robert, but I can't go to your house, even 
 with little Mary there. I don't want to go where I'm not 
 welcome. I've telegraphed the Grand Pacific Hotel to hold a 
 room. That is where I'll ask you to take me." 
 
8 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 He secured a carriage, and the two got in. She asked to be 
 driven past the house she had once owned at 375 West 
 Washington Street. After the President's death, Congress had 
 voted her a sum of money equal to Lincoln's yearly salary, 
 twenty-two thousand dollars. She had paid debts that had ac- 
 cumulated, then had put the rest in the house. As the carriage 
 approached the house, she asked that it be stopped. When 
 this was done, she sat gazing at the house in silence, then 
 said: "I had all of you then, except Eddie. You can drive 
 on now." 
 
 "Do you want to go by the Clifton House?" he asked. 
 
 "No." She mused for a moment. "He was a lovely child." 
 
 It had been at the Clifton House that Tad had died. 
 
 They arrived at the Grand Pacific Hotel, which once had 
 been impressive but now was seedy. When Robert saw the 
 room he was distressed, for it was dark and gloomy. But this 
 did not seem to affect his mother. Once she would have 
 wanted only the best, but now she did not think so much of 
 worldly things. Her mind dwelt on the spirit and on her inner 
 self. 
 
 Things were straightened in the room, and as this was be- 
 ing done, she talked of his "cherished father" and of his 
 "dear, dear brothers" and of her enemies in Washington. 
 These men, she said, instead of appreciating what the Presi- 
 dent had done for them, wanted to take advantage of her and 
 use her in any way they could. They had fought bitterly 
 against giving her a pension, and they would, she said, con- 
 tinue to oppose her. "I'll outwit them. I have a great inner 
 strength." And Robert, hearing this, knew it was true. She 
 seemed frail, but something within buoyed her up. 
 
 Mother and sou had a chance to talk. She told about her 
 stay in Europe and about the people she had met. Never had 
 she seemed more clear-minded. Robert was pleased; this sen- 
 
Chapter One g 
 
 sible talk offset the way she had come flying from Florida. 
 But when she spoke of money, fear showed again. She was 
 poor, she said; she had barely enough to get along on, yet 
 she had just finished telling about her trip to Europe. She 
 wanted, she continued, to ''buy some things." 
 
 "What do you want to buy, Mother?" 
 
 "Clothes, parasols, watches. Fine dress goods. I must have 
 things around me. I don't want to be in a rented room that 
 has nothing that belongs to me." 
 
 Now that the moment of worry about money and posses- 
 sions was over, she was herself again, alert and penetrating. 
 He remembered how his mother had been able to help his 
 father in judgments about the men around him. She had a 
 kind of feminine instinct that made her see motives quicker 
 than the President did. He understood issues. She had a 
 gift for understanding people. 
 
 She spoke of something that affected her deeply, although 
 it had happened several years before the present. And this 
 was that when she had moved out of the White House she 
 had been accused of stealing some of its furnishings and 
 having them carted away. She said again, as she had many 
 times before, that after the President's death and when she 
 was in mourning, the White House had been looted. Many 
 presents had been sent to her and the President, but she had 
 not been able to remove these, so soon had the plundering 
 begun. But the newspapers and the Lincoln-haters had taken 
 up the story and had exaggerated it till she was regarded as 
 little more than a thief. She had stolen nothing from the 
 White House, she said. There was a small dressing-stand 
 that the President had used and which she cherished for its 
 memories. She had, she said, gone to the Commissioner of 
 Public Buildings, in Washington, and had got his permission 
 to take this for herself. To be scrupulous, she had found a 
 
io THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 stand that was almost the same as the first and had sent it 
 to replace the one she had asked for. 
 
 And now, as she looked at her son, she felt he was the 
 only one in the world she had to lean on. Once it had been 
 her husband; now it was Robert, the son she could never 
 understand. He was, she had said, the least like his father 
 of any of the boys. Tad was most like him, she had declared. 
 But one thing she never mentioned, and this was that Tad 
 had been tongue-tied. She had taken him to Germany, away 
 from the boys who mimicked him and made fun of him, 
 and had given him speech lessons. He had improved; she was 
 thankful to God for that. 
 
 Robert took up something that was deeply on his mind. 
 Widows were often parted from their money. "Mother, where 
 do you keep your securities?" 
 
 "I keep them safely." 
 
 "How much would they amount to if you cashed them in?" 
 
 "I prefer not to say, Robert. You always want to know 
 about my money. It is safe and I spend it wisely." 
 
 "Mother, I must tell you I think you spend it recklessly." 
 
 "I spend it the way that gives me the most satisfaction. Is 
 that not the way to spend? How do you spend yours?" 
 
 "We have nice friends and we move in a circle that appeals 
 to us." 
 
 When the time came for him to go, she grew nervous and 
 apprehensive. "The dark ... I can't stand the dark. I've never 
 never been able to stand it since your father died. I keep 
 the gas burning all night." 
 
 "I'll stay with you," said Robert, and took a room next to 
 hers. 
 
 In the middle of the night, she got up and rapped on his 
 door. "I can't sleep. Come and talk to me." 
 
 And this he did, tenderly, wishing he could do more. Her 
 
Chapter One 11 
 
 fear passed, and she began to talk clearly and with penetra- 
 tion. But when the subject was money or possessions or her 
 need of some person to share her life, her talk was irrational. 
 
 Her mind went back to her childhood. "My father was a 
 man with the highest principles, but I never felt I knew him. 
 I never climbed on his lap. Does little Mary climb on your 
 lap?" 
 
 "Sometimes." 
 
 "I think I can sleep now," she said. "There are only two of 
 us left. Only two," she repeated. "Never a waking hour passes 
 that I do not think of your father. Thank you for sitting up 
 with me." 
 
 The next morning she was bright and cheerful, and she 
 talked about her "plans." She would travel, even if she had 
 to go alone. "Maybe I could take little Mary with me." 
 
 "I think her mother would want her to remain with her," 
 said Robert, ill at ease. 
 
 "Won't I get to see her, Robert?" 
 
 "I hope so." 
 
 The two had breakfast together. 
 
 "They tried to poison me in Jacksonville," she said. "I got 
 a cup of coffee at the station. I tasted it. It contained poison." 
 
 "Don't you think you imagined it?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "What did you do with it?" 
 
 "I put it aside." 
 
 "Did you report it?" he asked. 
 
 "It would be no use. I was soon on the train hurrying north 
 to you." 
 
 After breakfast he went to his office, but left early for his 
 home. His wife realized he must have spent the night with 
 his mother, and had not worried. He told her what had 
 
12 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 happened, then said, "Mother is in a dismal room and is lone- 
 some. I would like to bring her here," 
 
 "I know you would and I can understand it, but it wouldn't 
 work out. When our friends came to see us, we wouldn't 
 know how she would treat them. As you know, she is eccentric 
 and hard to get along with. It might do for a few days, but 
 she would disrupt our home and, sooner or later, we would 
 have trouble. I don't think we should do it, Bob." 
 
 "She wants to be with little Mary." 
 
 "She is always sending her presents, as you know, but what 
 would we do with your mother all day? And you say she 
 walks the floor at night. I wouldn't have a moment's peace, 
 day or night. I hate to take this attitude toward your mother, 
 but there's no other." 
 
 "It hurts me to deny my mother." 
 
 "I know it does, but what else can we do? You said that she 
 thought somebody tried to poison her at the railroad station. 
 It wouldn't be safe to have her in the house. I hate to say it, 
 but that is the way I feel about it." 
 
 The next afternoon, Robert went to his mother's hotel. She 
 was sitting in her darkened room alone. Her trunks had 
 arrived. 
 
 On a side table was a framed picture of President Lincoln. 
 
 "How have you been?" he asked. 
 
 "I've been shopping," she replied. 
 
 It soon developed she had been to Charles Gossage & Com- 
 pany, 106 State Street, to Stewart & Aldrich, State Street, and 
 to the Allen & Mackey Department Store, all of which were 
 expensive. 
 
 "What did you buy, Mother?" 
 
 "I bought four parasols and three ladies' watches." 
 
 He expostulated with her, but she hardly heard him. She 
 
Chapter One 13 
 
 had wanted these things, and she'd bought them with her own 
 money, she said. 
 
 "What do you do with the things you buy?" he asked. 
 
 "I keep them." 
 
 "You can't keep all of them." 
 
 "I give some away. It's the only way I can gain friends. I 
 used to have so many friends." 
 
 He became distressed. Was his mother right mentally? 
 
 After supper, they returned to her room, where they talked. 
 When the subject was not herself, she talked well, but when 
 the subject of money came up, or possessions or when she said 
 she no longer had a protector, she spoke wildly. This would 
 pass, and again the conversation would be general. Her grasp 
 of national affairs surprised him. She mentioned General 
 Grant. She was bitter against him because he had waited so 
 long to give Robert a commission. 
 
 "I didn't hold it against him," said Robert. 
 
 "I did." 
 
 When the time came for Robert to leave, she grew nervous 
 and apprehensive. "I'll have to keep the gas burning. It's still 
 a shock to wake up in the night and not find your father 
 beside me." 
 
 "I'll stay overnight with you, Mother." 
 
 She was pleased. "Thank you, Robert. You are so consid- 
 erate. You are all I have now. You and little Mary." 
 
 "I'm sorry I can't ask you to come home with me," he said. 
 
 "I understand," she said. And she did, for she had a keen 
 perception of things that one would not expect her to grasp. 
 "Maybe you can leave little Mary here with me at the hotel 
 some day." 
 
 "I hope so," he said. 
 
 He remained that night. He heard her stirring, and got up. 
 She had opened the hall door and was on her way to the 
 
i 4 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 elevator. He got in, put his arms around her and tried to 
 get her out. 
 
 "Stop!" she cried. "You are going to murder me!" 
 
 With the help of the elevator man, he got her to her room. 
 She seemed in a daze. "I have so many nightmares. I dream of 
 people being killed, as your father was." 
 
 When breakfast time came, she was again in a bright, cheer- 
 ful mood. It was good, she said, to have breakfast with a loved 
 one. "The nights are hard on me. Sometimes I dream about 
 the fire four years ago." 
 
 "But you were not here, Mother." 
 
 "I had a friend burned to death." 
 
 He went to his office, and again she was alone. And again 
 she went to the stores and bought things and had them sent 
 to her hotel. So many came that she had to buy two more 
 trunks. Sometimes she put her purchases in the trunks with- 
 out opening the packages. When delivery boys arrived, she 
 invited them in and gave them extravagant tips. If they re- 
 mained a few minutes, she was delighted. It was nice to have 
 somebody to talk to. The evenings were long. She had a 
 rocking chair, and as she rocked, she looked at the framed 
 picture of the President on the center table. 
 
Chapter 2 
 
 JtvOBERT decided to go to Springfield to see his 
 mother's favorite cousin, John Todd Stuart. His mother said 
 that he was the best-mannered and most aristocratic man in 
 Springfield. His father and Stuart had met during the Black 
 Hawk War. His father had become a captain in the little 
 make-believe war. John Todd Stuart had been a major. The 
 two had become friends, and Stuart had invited Lincoln to 
 join him and become his law partner. His father had been 
 delighted to become the law partner of the distinguished 
 Major John Todd Stuart. Their card read: 
 
 J. T. Stuart and A. Lincoln, Attorneys and Counsellors 
 at Law, will practice conjointly, in the Courts of this 
 Judicial Circuit— Office No. 4 Hoffman's Row, upstairs, 
 Springfield. 
 
 John Todd Stuart was a lawyer, and he looked the part. 
 Shortly before the two had formed their partnership, Stuart 
 had been engaged by an Englishman to represent him in a 
 case not too far from Springfield. The day of the trial came, 
 but because Stuart was called away, it was left to Lincoln to 
 handle the case. 
 
 15 
 
16 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 Lincoln prepared himself, went to the town and looked up 
 the Englishman. "I am the lawyer who is to represent you." 
 
 The Englishman, used to the formality of wigs and the 
 trappings of a British court, stared at Lincoln. "I think I am 
 the victim of an American joke," he said, and walked away 
 and engaged another lawyer, who promptly lost the case. 
 
 After the two had formed their partnership, Stuart ran 
 for Congress. Lincoln managed the campaign so successfully 
 that this was a factor in Stuart's election, and the two became 
 even closer friends, great as the contrast between them was. 
 And now this was the man that Robert Todd Lincoln was 
 going to for advice. 
 
 There, in his office, was the still handsome, still well-man- 
 nered man who had been his father's law partner thirty-four 
 years ago. Robert Todd Lincoln found himself ill at ease and 
 wishing he did not have to speak on such a delicate subject. 
 
 "I want to talk something over with you," said Robert 
 Todd Lincoln. "My mother has come to Chicago, and I am 
 distressed about her. I think the assassination of my father 
 and the worries that have come upon her have affected her 
 mind." 
 
 "I know that for many years she has been 'queer,' but to 
 have an affected mind! It's a shock, Robert." 
 
 Robert told about her arrival from Florida and how "they" 
 had tried to poison her. He spoke of the great number of 
 trunks she had, her almost overwhelming desire to accumu- 
 late possessions and of her fear-filled nights. Now that he had 
 begun, he spoke more easily. "She buys things and stores 
 them away in her trunks. She doesn't even know what's in 
 some of the trunks. She gives away many of the things she 
 has bought— sometimes to comparative strangers. She has se- 
 curities, but she will not tell me how much, nor where she 
 keeps them, but I think she carries them with her." 
 
Chapter Two 17 
 
 "In her reticule?" 
 
 "In her skirts." 
 
 " 'In her skirts?' " repeated Stuart. 
 
 "I have reason to believe that." 
 
 "I can't understand such actions," said Stuart. "Once she 
 was such great fun. Her tongue was sharp, but almost in- 
 stantly her flash of temper was over, and she was again de- 
 lightful." 
 
 "I remained several nights at her hotel, in a room adjoin- 
 ing hers. One night I heard her stirring. I got up. The door 
 to her room was open, and I saw her, scantily dressed, getting 
 into the elevator. I hurried to her and put my arms around 
 her. 'Stop!' she shouted. 'You are going to murder me!' I got 
 her back to her room as best I could. She seemed to come out 
 of a haze and said, 'I have so many nightmares. I dream of 
 people being killed, as your father was.' " 
 
 "What do you propose to do, Robert?" 
 
 "That is what I came to talk to you about. I keep going 
 over and over it in my mind, but get nowhere. I have high 
 regard for my mother, and I want to do the best I can for 
 her." 
 
 "Do you want to get control of her money?" 
 
 "She's wasting it. She may even soon be without funds." 
 
 "The only way this can be done is to have her judged in- 
 capable of managing her affairs. That, as you know, would 
 have to be done through the court. It means your mother will 
 be branded as insane." 
 
 Robert had realized this, but to hear the slow-spoken, im- 
 personal Stuart put it into cold words shocked him more than 
 his own thoughts on the subject had. "I want to do what's 
 best for her," he said. 
 
 The two talked for a while longer; then Robert went to 
 his mother's hotel to comfort her. She was sitting in her 
 
18 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 darkened room, rocking. She got up quickly, delighted to see 
 her son. "I'd been hoping you'd come," she said. "I know 
 you wouldn't disappoint me. I had a bad night." As the two 
 talked, there was a knock at the door. When she opened it, 
 there was a delivery boy with a package. 
 
 "Is this Mrs. M. T. Lincoln?" 
 
 "I am Mrs. Lincoln." 
 
 "Here's your stuff from the store." He gave her a bundle 
 and left. 
 
 "What is that, Mother?" asked Robert. 
 
 "Lace curtains." 
 
 "But you have no house to put them in. Why do you buy 
 them?" 
 
 "It gives me pleasure to have them." 
 
 He took her to the dining room, where she talked of what 
 she called "the old days . . . when your father was living." 
 
 After supper he conducted her to her room, then, excusing 
 himself, went to the office of the manager of the hotel, Samuel 
 M. Turner, and spoke about his mother. She was, he said, 
 under a strain and at times did things that were not easily 
 understandable. "Overlook all you can. If she is found in the 
 hall, it is because she has nightmares and doesn't know what 
 she is doing." 
 
 Turner said he understood such things. 
 
 Robert returned to his mother. She began to talk about 
 the people who had come to the White House, all wanting 
 something "from your father." Robert was impressed with 
 how acutely she had observed and how well she had under- 
 stood the political issues of her day. As he rose to go, she said, 
 "I'll have to cash in another bond tomorrow." 
 
 They looked at each other tenderly, but made no demon- 
 stration of their affection. "Good-by," he said, and left. After 
 he had gone, she wept silently. 
 
Chapter Two 19 
 
 Robert decided to go to see his father's old friend who 
 now was a judge in the Supreme Court of Illinois. David 
 Davis had been important in his father's life. Almost single- 
 handed he had run Lincoln as a "dark horse" for the Re- 
 publican nomination in i860, and again he had run him a 
 possible nominee at the Chicago Republican convention. 
 Lincoln valued him highly, but there were others more re- 
 served in their opinions. Judge Davis had made himself a 
 millionaire, they said, in ways not wholly acceptable. Lincoln 
 himself had said at one time that Davis was greedy, and for 
 a time the two men had not spoken. But this had cleared 
 away, and Lincoln had said that if "anything ever happened 
 to him," he would like Judge Davis to administer his estate. 
 And this Davis had done exceedingly well, for he had the 
 money-making instinct. Lincoln had drawn up wills for many 
 people, but he did not draw up one for himself. Lincoln left 
 $83,000. By skillful handling of the estate, Davis increased 
 it to $110,000 when, in 1868, his final report was handed in. 
 Mrs. Lincoln had been grateful to "kind Mr. Davis," as she 
 called him. 
 
 And there, when Robert went to see him, was the pon- 
 derous Judge Davis, the great and true friend. He weighed 
 280 pounds. Once Lincoln had said, "Davis is so big that they 
 don't measure him for his pants; they survey him." 
 
 "Come in," said Judge Davis heartily. "I'm glad to see you. 
 How are you, Bob? Although we live in the same town, we 
 don't get to see each other often. When I see you, I think 
 of your father. I don't know whether I've ever told you this 
 story or not. Anyway, it's worth repeating. I was traveling 
 circuit and one night arrived in Danville, Illinois, and went 
 to the McCormick House for sanctuary. I found the place 
 completely filled, with no place for me to lay my weary head. 
 I prevailed upon the manager and finally softened his heart. 
 
20 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 He said he had two beds in the ladies' parlor, but they were 
 disadvantageous^ placed, for they were in the direct path of 
 any lady who wished to seclude herself for a few moments. 
 I told the manager I would welcome the spot as an Arab 
 would an oasis, so into bed I got. So far, all is well. But that 
 night there came to this hotel two weary travelers— namely, 
 your father and Henry C. Whitney. In the middle of the 
 night, I heard voices and suspected what might be afoot. The 
 manager brought the two in and said, 'There's the bed. Un- 
 fortunately it's only for one person. The other bed is quite 
 commodious. Maybe one of you will like to share that with the 
 gentleman presently in it.' Hearing these words, I spread 
 myself out, filling, I am quite sure, the bed. And so that 
 night your father and Harry Whitney slept the sleep of the 
 just, while the unjust got along pretty well in his double 
 bed." 
 
 Judge Davis had told the story a thousand times, but 
 laughed as if he had told it for the first time, his great stom- 
 ach moving up and down. "Oh, yes! Another story comes 
 immediately to mind. In fact, to know your father was to 
 know stories about him. Once your father and I were stand- 
 ing in line at a White House reception. I opine there's 
 nothing in the world as dreary as an official White House 
 reception. People flowed by us in a solid stream. Your father 
 tried to engage in their witless palaver, but he was too honest, 
 too sincere, to make a success of it. There it was: handshake 
 . . . gabble-gabble . . . handshake. As the people were flowing 
 by, your father edged over to me and said, 'I never knew 
 until the other day how you spell the word "maintenance." 
 And then he spelled it out between handshakes: m . . . hand- 
 shake . . . a . . . handshake, and so on." Judge Davis' great 
 booming laugh rolled out. 
 
Chapter Two 21 
 
 No wonder, Robert thought, his father had liked this 
 mountain of a man. 
 
 "Now what've you got on your mind?" asked Judge Davis. 
 
 "It's about my mother." 
 
 "Is she here?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "In Chicago?" 
 
 "At the Grand Pacific Hotel. It hasn't been easy to come 
 to you. In fact, I've debated it for several days, but I don't 
 know anyone who can give me as good advice. I think my 
 mother's mind is disturbed." 
 
 "Oh . . . Well, she was always high-strung, as the expression 
 goes. She could have more moods in an hour— most of them 
 delightful— than any person I ever knew. Once the Honorable 
 James C. Conkling described her as 'the very creature of 
 excitement.' In what way do you think your mother's mind 
 is disturbed? You will understand we are on serious grounds." 
 
 Robert told of the telegrams and then— hesitatingly— of the 
 night she had screamed that he was trying to murder her. 
 "It's not easy to say all this." 
 
 "I quite understand. Will you continue?" 
 
 "She is dissipating her money. I'm worried about that." 
 
 "That is a subject I know something about. As you know, 
 I was able to increase her estate substantially." 
 
 "I was at her hotel one day when a delivery boy brought 
 in four pairs of lace curtains she'd bought, yet she has no 
 home. She lives in hotels." 
 
 "Why, in your opinion, does she make such extravagant 
 purchases?" asked Judge Davis. 
 
 "I don't know. Even if she is my mother, I don't under- 
 stand her." 
 
 "Sometimes members of a family understand each other 
 least of all. Do you want to secure control of her finances?" 
 
22 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 ''If I don't, she will be completely out of funds. I would 
 like to shelter her and take care of her, but there are family 
 objections, so I won't be able to do this/' 
 
 "You know, in the state of Illinois, there is only one way 
 that a person can secure control of another's money, and this 
 is to have that person legally declared insane." 
 
 There was a silence. 
 
 "I know that, Judge," said Robert when he spoke. "I can't 
 do that." 
 
 "There is no other way." 
 
 "I can't . . ." said the suffering man. 
 
 "I'm only quoting the law." 
 
 "I can't do it," said Robert. 
 
 A reminiscent smile came over Judge Davis' great moon 
 face. "Money was always a problem in the Lincoln family. 
 Your mother had more interest in money than your father 
 had. Once I told him flat out that he had no business sense- 
 he was a bit pawky with me. In a way, he sort of criticized 
 me for having done fairly well financially. Do you know what 
 I think characterizes your father better than anything I know? 
 I've told it a thousand times, and I suspect you've heard it 
 half that many. When he was elected President, he was living 
 at the Chenery House in Springfield and when he got ready 
 to go to the White House in Washington, he roped the trunks 
 himself! That, I say, is the very essence of A. Lincoln." 
 
 Robert left, more worried and confused than ever. 
 
 When he got to her hotel, his mother was in her darkened 
 room, slowly swaying back and forth in her rocking chair. 
 In front of her, on the center table, was the picture of Rob- 
 ert's father so placed that she could see it by lifting her eyes. 
 She brightened when he came in. 
 
 "How is little Mary?" His mother had an unusually deep 
 affection for children. "If only I could see her!" 
 
Chapter Two 23 
 
 "Maybe you can some day," said Robert, suffering deeply. 
 "She asks about you. She calls you 'Grand-mammy.' " 
 
 "Oh, the precious darling! Couldn't she spend the after- 
 noon with me?" 
 
 "I'm afraid not, Mother. How are you feeling?" he asked, 
 to change the painful subject. 
 
 "Nights are worst. Sometimes I walk the floor half the 
 night. I hear noises. The other night I opened the door, 
 looked out, and there was a man sitting in a chair in the 
 hall." 
 
 "What did you do?" 
 
 "I locked the door and turned the gas higher." 
 
 As it nearly always did, the conversation went back to the 
 days when she had "your father" and "we were happy." 
 "There was never such a good man as your sainted father." 
 She spoke of the tragedy at the theater. There was a faint 
 hint of criticism. "You would not come with us that night. 
 Maybe, if you had been in the box, things would have been 
 different." 
 
 There was a knock, and when he opened the door, a de- 
 livery man was outside. 
 
 "Mrs. M. T. Lincoln?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 He brought in a large, square, brassbound trunk, and in a 
 moment was gone. Robert and his mother stood looking at 
 the huge trunk. 
 
 "Is it to put your purchases in?" asked Robert. 
 
 "Yes. I'm always running out of trunks." 
 
 "You say you have some in Milwaukee?" 
 
 "Yes. Either two or three." 
 
 "What is in them?" 
 
 "Things I've bought. They're in storage. I'll get to see 
 them this summer." 
 
24 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "Are you going there this summer?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Why do you choose Milwaukee?" 
 
 "I have friends there. I had so many friends when your 
 father was living." 
 
 "Why do you have things addressed 'Mrs. M. T. Lincoln'?" 
 
 "I don't want people to know who I am." 
 
 "Why not, Mother?" 
 
 "I've had enough public attention," she said bitterly. 
 
 Time came to go. "Good-by, Mother," he said, affected, as 
 he always was, when he had to leave. 
 
 "Will you come tomorrow?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Tell me everything that little Mary says." 
 
 The two parted without embracing. 
 
 When he got home, he told his wife of his call on Judge 
 Davis and of his trip to see his mother. 
 
 "I'm sorry about your mother," she said, "but I don't think 
 it would be wise to let her start coming here. Little Mary 
 would not know what to make of her strange actions." 
 
 He had had legal advice. He would now, Robert decided, 
 get medical advice, and so in a day or two he went to see the 
 doctor to whom she had telegraphed from Florida. Dr. Ralph 
 N. Isham was a bustling, self-assured little man adorned with 
 burnsides. 
 
 "I'm glad you came to me," he said in his precise way when 
 Robert explained what he wanted. "In fact, I've been on the 
 point of speaking to you about your mother's condition. 
 That telegram was definitely not the act of a well-reasoned 
 mind. And her acts, as you have related them to me, since 
 she has been in Chicago, are not the acts of a well-balanced 
 person. She is, to use a non-medical term, 'flighty.' ' 
 
Chapter Two 25 
 
 "Dr. Isham, I'm thinking of asking a court hearing on her 
 sanity." 
 
 "I can quite understand your attitude," said the little man. 
 
 "If I do so, will you take the witness stand?" 
 
 "It's true I don't know much about what is called 'psycho- 
 logical cases,' but I'm willing to testify as a practicing physi- 
 cian." 
 
 Robert prepared to leave. "I thank you, Doctor. I hate to 
 press for a hearing, more than anything that ever happened 
 to me." 
 
 "We have many cases in Chicago in which they're better 
 off with institutional care." 
 
 "That is what I hope, Doctor. Again I thank you." 
 
 "Good day, Mr. Lincoln. I shall be glad to be of service." 
 
 The days, for Mary Todd Lincoln, were long. She hadn't 
 been able to see little Mary. Sometimes Robert told her a 
 bit of news about the child. And when he did, Mary Todd 
 Lincoln listened intently, smiling and nodding with delight, 
 saying over and over, "the blessed child, the blessed child." 
 But no invitation came from Robert's wife. As a result, she 
 shopped more and more frequently, and bought more and 
 more unneeded articles. It pleased her to have the clerks pay 
 her flattering attention. To some she revealed who she was, 
 but to most she kept her identity secret. Her purchases were 
 made during the day. Evenings she sat alone and rocked, now 
 and then lifting her eyes to the picture on the center table. 
 
 She especially made friends with Fern, the colored cham- 
 bermaid, who told about her family and her problems. Mrs. 
 Lincoln listened raptly, glad to get into another world. Mary 
 had exceedingly warm sympathies, considering that she had 
 been brought up in the South and was supposed to have a 
 "Southern point of view." She was opposed to slavery and 
 
26 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 now told the chambermaid how she had seen Negroes sold 
 on the auction block in Lexington, Kentucky. Not only that, 
 but she had seen them tied to the whipping post and lashed. 
 
 "Mr. Lincoln and I agreed on the matter of slavery," she 
 said. "It was inhuman and must, Mr. Lincoln said, be 
 abolished." 
 
 Finding Fern such a devoted listener, she spoke of some- 
 thing that so often came into her conversation— "that night 
 at the theater." 
 
 "We were seated in the box. In it with us was Clara Harris, 
 a young lady who was our guest. I was leaning against my 
 husband, who was holding my hand. I suddenly realized I 
 was being bold in the presence of our guest, so I said to Mr. 
 Lincoln, 'What will Clara Harris think of my hanging on to 
 you so?' 'She won't think anything about it,' he said— the last 
 words he ever uttered. Just then a pistol shot rang out. I felt 
 his hand jerk, and I screamed. The papers said that an un- 
 identified person in the audience had screamed. I was that 
 person. His head fell over on my shoulder, and his life's 
 blood ran out on my sleeve." 
 
 She had to pause, so overcome was she with emotion, in 
 spite of the many times she'd told the story. 
 
 "It was Good Friday!" she said when she was able to con- 
 tinue. "There is hardly a waking hour that I don't think of 
 what happened that night at the theater." 
 
 "Did you and Mr. Lincoln ever have words?" asked Fern 
 cautiously. 
 
 "I hardly know how to answer you. We were married 
 twenty-three years, and lots of things can happen in a mar- 
 riage that long. Mr. Lincoln and I had differences of opinion, 
 and we argued, but we didn't let any real difference stand 
 between us." 
 
Chapter Two 27 
 
 "Don't you think," said Fern, "we'd better open your 
 trunks and air them?" 
 
 "They're all right," said Mrs. Lincoln. "They contain the 
 things I have bought, as I've told you. One time, when I had 
 the trunks stored in a warehouse, the building next to it 
 caught on fire, but thank God the fire didn't get to our 
 building!" 
 
 Her life was in the hotel— the chambermaid, the men who 
 came to deliver things and, now and then, a visit from 
 Robert. The chance to see little Mary did not come. In the 
 hotel she was set down as a "complainer." One of the things 
 she complained about was that men were following her. One 
 night she opened the door and there was a man sitting in 
 a chair at the end of the hall, so placed that he could see her 
 room. She went to Samuel M. Turner, the manager. She 
 was mistaken, said Mr. Turner; the man was the night 
 watchman. 
 
 In the old-fashioned, slightly dingy dining room, she sat 
 alone. Guests had learned who she was, and they stared at 
 the strange little, round-faced woman. Here, also, she was 
 known as a "complainer." She found fault with the food and 
 with John, her waiter. Sometimes, however, one of the guests 
 would engage her in conversation in the parlor. And here, 
 on general subjects, she talked well, almost brilliantly. Espe- 
 cially was this true when she discussed President Lincoln's 
 policies and the men around him. She seemed to see into 
 these men and to understand their motives with remarkable 
 clarity. If Robert came up in the conversation, she remained 
 quiet, saying nothing at all. 
 
 One day a young boy came to deliver a package from 
 Charles Gossage & Company. Mary looked at him closely, 
 going over every feature. She surprised him by asking how 
 old he was. 
 
28 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "Seventeen, lady." 
 
 "You look like one of my boys when he was your age." 
 
 "Is that so?" said the boy, hardly knowing what to say. 
 "How old is he?" 
 
 "He is dead." 
 
 "Oh . . . I'm sorry, ma'am. How long ago did he die?" 
 
 "Four years ago." 
 
 The boy looked at her sympathetically, for he could see 
 how deeply her son's death had affected her. "What was his 
 name?" 
 
 "Tad. That was what we called him. His real name was 
 Thomas. He was named for his father's father. He had auburn 
 hair and blue eyes, like yours." 
 
 "I'm sure he must have been a nice son to you." 
 
 "He was. He was indeed!" cried Mrs. Lincoln. "We always 
 understood each other. It's not always easy to understand 
 people." 
 
 Moved by one of the sudden impulses that was part of her 
 nature, Mrs. Lincoln went to the bureau and took a package 
 from it. "This is for you because you look so much like my 
 dead son." 
 
 The puzzled boy opened the package, not knowing what 
 to think, nor what to say. 
 
 "It's for you," said Mrs. Lincoln, as the boy held up a 
 watch. 
 
 He thanked her, still hardly knowing what had happened, 
 and left. 
 
 After he was gone, Mary began to sob. "Tad was the only 
 one who ever understood me." 
 
 "Doesn't your son Robert understand you?" asked Fern. 
 
 "No. But he will stand between me and the world. I have 
 no other man in the family." 
 
 "He's nice-looking," said Fern, wanting to be sympathetic. 
 
Chapter Two 29 
 
 "All my sons were good-looking." 
 
 The big event of her day was when she went shopping. 
 She would pay for the purchases and ask for them to be sent 
 to her hotel. Sometimes they did not arrive. She would go 
 back, then, and ask why they hadn't been delivered. Some- 
 times she found that the store had had orders not to send 
 them. No one could do that but Robert. 
 
Chapter 3 
 
 JL HERE was a knock at the door. The day was May 
 
 19, 1875; the time was noon. 
 
 The hotel did not bother to send up a messenger to an- 
 nounce a visitor, so little did the management think of their 
 eccentric roomer. Anybody who wished could walk up or 
 take the elevator to the second floor, and rap. 
 
 Getting up, she started to the door. It might be Robert. 
 On the other hand, when he knocked he usually called out, 
 "Mother! It's Robert." 
 
 There was no such call. 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln," said a voice beyond the door, "this is 
 Leonard T. Swett." 
 
 Her mind went back over the past. He had been her hus- 
 band's friend, yet she mistrusted him. 
 
 She recalled an incident about her husband and Leonard 
 Swett. It was one of what was coming to be known as "Lincoln 
 stories." Lincoln, Swett and his wife, and Henry C. Whitney 
 were driving in a carriage from Urbana to Danville, a distance 
 of thirty-six miles. It was problem enough to have four people 
 in a buggy for so great a distance as that, let alone the prob- 
 lem of the road. The October rain had made a mud puddle 
 of the road. The carriage creaked; the horses splashed. The 
 
 30 
 
Chapter Three 31 
 
 four became bored; anything would be preferable to the 
 boredom they were experiencing. 
 
 Night approached. It was difficult to keep the carriage on 
 the road. Lincoln solved it in his own way. He said he would 
 go ahead, find the shallowest mud and call back directions 
 to the driver, who, at the moment, was Judge Whitney. Lin- 
 coln removed his shoes and socks, got out, and proceeded 
 barefooted down the road ahead of the buggy. What message 
 came floating back? It made the people in the carriage laugh, 
 and it lifted their spirits. The original ran like this: 
 
 "Mortal man, with feet of clay; 
 Here today; gone tomorrow." 
 
 Lincoln composed it his own way, and bawled it back over 
 his shoulder: 
 
 "Mortal man, with face of clay; 
 Here tomorrow, gone today." 
 
 The story was sometimes told to favor Lincoln, sometimes 
 against him, for his critics and enemies said it showed how 
 crude he was. Others looked on it as amusing, and it increased 
 their respect for him. 
 
 Mary Lincoln opened the door, and there Swett was— tall, 
 broad-shouldered, with a beard, overpowering. He was wear- 
 ing a tall silk hat and was carrying a gold-headed cane. 
 
 "How-de-do, Mrs. Lincoln," he said ingratiatingly. "I can 
 see you are quite surprised. But here I am, and I hope you 
 are well," he finished cheerfully. 
 
 "I am surprised, Mr. Swett," said Mary Lincoln. "Come 
 in." 
 
 Entering, he handed her his hat and cane and soon was 
 
32 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 seated. "How long have you been here, Mrs. Lincoln? I have 
 only just learned you were in our city." 
 
 "I have been here two months." 
 
 "So long! How are you standing widowhood, Mrs. Lin- 
 coln?" 
 
 "Not well, Mr. Swett. I miss him as greatly as I did the 
 first week. I'm afraid I'm not a good widow." 
 
 "Naturally it was a shock. Shocks wane and grow less. We 
 can be thankful for that." 
 
 "I'm not thankful for anything about it." 
 
 Swett changed the conversation back to himself. "You 
 know what I was thinking, Mrs. Lincoln? I was thinking, as 
 I came up the stairs, about the Republican convention here 
 in i860. I am proud I was one of the men who helped nomi- 
 nate your husband for President. This nomination and the 
 sequence of events propelled him into the White House." 
 
 "He wasn't propelled, Mr. Swett. He was the nation's 
 choice." 
 
 Swett smiled an understanding smile. "You are quite right, 
 Mrs. Lincoln. I was speaking in a literary way rather than 
 in an exact way. I am proud of the way I helped him along 
 the path that led to the White House." 
 
 "You turned against him later, Mr. Swett." 
 
 "That is hardly a fair statement, Mrs. Lincoln. Politics is 
 politics, and men must differ. Our paths did not part at the 
 White House. I gave your husband advice on the selection 
 of his Cabinet." 
 
 "Abraham listened to everybody, but made up his own 
 mind." 
 
 "Did you influence him?" 
 
 "Sometimes I thought I did." 
 
 "That was Abe!" 
 
 "His friends called him 'Mr. Lincoln' or 'Abraham.' I am 
 
Chapter Three i 33 
 
 pleased you have the thoughtfulness to call on me," con- 
 tinued Mary. "I suppose Robert told you I was here?" 
 
 "Yes, he told me." 
 
 "I am wondering, Mr. Swett, whether you would have any 
 ulterior purpose in calling on me. So many people try to 
 take advantage of me." 
 
 "I would not dream of taking advantage of you, Mrs. Lin- 
 coln. Being with you brings back a rush of memories, very 
 pleasant ones, indeed. I think of something that happened 
 during the summer of '64. General Grant was advancing 
 relentlessly toward Richmond, but at a fearful cost." 
 
 "Grant was a butcher," said Mary, in one of her sudden 
 flare-ups. 
 
 "You are right, Mrs. Lincoln, but he was successful. We 
 must not forget that. During this trying period, I had to call 
 on your husband at the White House to discuss with him 
 a matter dealing with the Republican party. When I was 
 conducted to his room, he was sitting by an open window. 
 We spoke together, the two of us, for a moment. Then Mr. 
 Lincoln looked out the window to a tree not far removed 
 from the window. In the tree a bird was making little chirp- 
 ing sounds. Tweet-tweet, it went. Mr. Lincoln dropped our 
 conversation completely and went tweet-tweet himself! The 
 bird turned its head from side to side— like this— its curiosity 
 piqued by something it couldn't understand. Again Mr. Lin- 
 coln went tweet-tweet, and again the bird solemnly turned 
 its head and went tweet-tweet— and so did Mr. Lincoln." 
 
 "It sounds just like him." 
 
 "I was shocked, with men dying on the battlefield, that 
 our President would engage in such a childlike performance. 
 I shall tell you frankly, Mrs. Lincoln, that a disturbing 
 thought entered my mind." 
 
 "What was it, Mr. Swett?" 
 
34 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "Very simply put, it was this, Mrs. Lincoln. In this hour 
 of crisis, was our nation in safe hands? Then suddenly, almost 
 startlingly, I realized that this bit of whimsy was his escape 
 from the strain of war, and that he was doing exactly what 
 was best for him under the circumstances— playfully imitat- 
 ing a bird." 
 
 "Mr. Lincoln had many sides to his nature, Mr. Swett." 
 
 Swett had been watching for an opening, and now said, 
 "Mrs. Lincoln, I'm wondering what you think about the lec- 
 tures that William H. Herndon has been giving in Spring- 
 field? In them, as you must know, he says that you and Mr. 
 Lincoln were abysmally unhappy." 
 
 Mary's quick temper flashed. "He is a willful liar, Mr. 
 Swett. Please do not mention that miserable creature in my 
 presence." 
 
 "Those are strong words, Mrs. Lincoln." 
 
 "I mean them to be strong. He hates me, and I can say 
 I hate him," she said excitedly. 
 
 "But he was your husband's law partner for twelve years." 
 
 "He was never in our house to a meal. When office hours 
 were over, my husband had nothing to do with the man." 
 
 "Do you think his story that Lincoln was extravagantly in 
 love with Ann Rutledge is true?" 
 
 "It's extravagantly untrue, Mr. Swett. I never heard of 
 Ann Rutledge until Herndon delivered his lectures. I was 
 the only woman he ever loved. Why do you ask these ques- 
 tions, Mr. Swett?" she asked with sudden suspicion. 
 
 "Because I want to understand you better, Mrs. Lincoln." 
 
 "I'm complimented, Mr. Swett," said Mary. 
 
 "Let me return to a point we discussed a moment ago. 
 You called General Grant a butcher. Was this opprobrium 
 in any way associated with your son Robert?" 
 
 "He did not treat my son right." 
 
Chapter Three 35 
 
 "You did not think he gave your son the opportunities in 
 the army that you thought your son deserved? Is that true?" 
 
 "It is, Mr. Swett, and it's also true that I don't know why 
 you're questioning me. I owe you nothing." Suddenly she 
 stiffened into a listening attitude. "Ssssh! There's someone 
 outside. A man keeps following me. Every time I go out on 
 the street, or come back from a store, he follows me." 
 
 "Do you say there is a man outside?" 
 
 "The man who follows me." 
 
 "We shall see, Mrs. Lincoln." Going to the door, Swett 
 opened it. "No one is here, Mrs. Lincoln. Possibly you 
 imagined it." 
 
 "It's not imagination when I find a man is following me. 
 May I ask why you came here, Mr. Swett? I know it's not 
 through devotion to my husband, nor to me. Will you be 
 direct?" 
 
 "It's devotion to your son that brings me here. He has 
 asked me to come here and request that you accompany me 
 to the Cook County Court." 
 
 "Oh! Is it something to do with the law?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Has it to do with my estate? Robert is always asking about 
 my funds. He is quite devoted to money." 
 
 "Yes, it has to do with your estate. Will you come with me? 
 I know this is not giving you much time to prepare yourself, 
 but he and others will be waiting." 
 
 "And others? Who are the others?" 
 
 "Members of the court. I have a carriage and driver down- 
 stairs. I'll retire to the hall, if you wish to change your dress." 
 
 "It'll not take long. I was once a most meticulous dresser. 
 I'm afraid it's not true now. There are so many things in 
 the world more important than clothes. One has to grow 
 old to know values." Swett started to step into the hall, but 
 
3 6 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 before he could do so, she said, ''Will you come here, Mr. 
 Swett?" He went to the window where she was standing. 
 "Do you see that black, angry smoke?" 
 
 "It's from a store chimney." 
 
 "I'm afraid of it." 
 
 "It won't hurt you." 
 
 "It's such black, swirling smoke." 
 
 There was a knock at the door. When she opened it, there 
 was the boy to whom she had given the watch. 
 
 "Excuse me for interrupting," said the boy, "but I thought 
 I ought to see you. I just found out about the watch you 
 went and gave me. I took it to the store. The man opened 
 it and examined it with his little eyepiece. He said it was a 
 very expensive watch. Here it is," he said, holding it out. 
 "I guess you made a mistake. Maybe you meant to give me 
 a cheaper one." 
 
 "I meant to give you the one you have," said Mary. "You 
 keep it. It was a pleasure to give it to you." 
 
 The boy thanked her profusely, and left. 
 
 Swett had taken all this in. And now, when the boy was 
 gone, he said, "I'm curious to know what happened, Mrs. 
 Lincoln. Did you know the boy well?" 
 
 "I only saw him once," said Mary. 
 
 "And you gave him the watch?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "If I don't seem presumptuous, Mrs. Lincoln, I'd like to 
 ask why." 
 
 "Because he looked like Tad." 
 
 "I'll step out and you can make the changes you wish," 
 said Swett. "Robert asked us to be there by two." 
 
 "He's always on time. His father was, too. That is, if it had 
 to do with business; he never forgot, then. But if it was 
 
Chapter Three 37 
 
 social, sometimes he forgot all about it. And meals! He'd 
 wander in any time for a meal." 
 
 A few minutes later, Mrs. Lincoln joined him in the hall, 
 dressed in her rusty best. 
 
 "I'm glad to get a ride in the open air," she said. 
 
Chapter 4 
 
 IT WAS not a bright, clear day, but to her it was 
 bright and clear. Robert had sent for her. Would it be ex- 
 pecting too much to have little Mary there? Mr. Swett had 
 said that it was at the court building. Robert would be 
 attending court. She chatted eagerly, glad of companionship. 
 Some of her happiest days had been spent in Chicago with 
 Abraham and the children, she said. Once Abraham had 
 taken little Willie with him to Chicago; although Willie had 
 been only nine, he'd written a letter home. "Me and father 
 went to two theaters the other night." How pleasant it was 
 to talk about her children! 
 
 Did Mr. Swett know how Tad had got his nickname? He'd 
 been named Thomas for Abraham's father, she said. The 
 little fellow had a large head and a small body. One day 
 Abraham had said, "Why, he looks like a tadpole!" They'd 
 called him Tadpole for a while; then it'd shortened to Tad. 
 
 As she talked, Swett kept watching her. Now and then he 
 adroitly probed into her life. Where had she lived in Europe, 
 and how much had she spent? How much had she spent since 
 she had come to Chicago? She answered readily because 
 Robert had sent for her. Then came a question which puzzled 
 
Chapter Four 39 
 
 her: "Did you think somebody in Florida tried to poison 
 you?" 
 
 That must have come from Robert. But why should Robert 
 tell that to a man who had only a casual interest in her? 
 
 "Yes, at the railroad station," she answered. 
 
 "How did the person try to do this?" 
 
 "He put poison in my coffee." 
 
 "What did you do?" he asked. 
 
 "I sent the coffee back." 
 
 "And you keep the gas burning all night?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How much did the watch cost that you gave to the boy?" 
 
 "Seventy dollars." 
 
 "Have you given away other watches?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "To whom?" 
 
 She looked at him suspiciously. "Why do you ask, Mr. 
 Swett?" 
 
 "I was interested to discover how generous you were." 
 
 It was only a short ride— it seemed to her— and then they 
 were before the grim-looking old building at West Hubbard 
 and North Dearborn streets. They got out and went inside 
 and up a flight of stairs protected on one side by a heavy 
 ornate banister. As they walked up to the second floor, a 
 stale, forbidding odor met their nostrils. 
 
 "So this is where Robert practices?" 
 
 "The court is open to him. He has a high standing among 
 his fellow attorneys." 
 
 Mary nodded; that was to be expected. 
 
 She looked at the people who were coming and going. One 
 would disappear through a thick oak door; in a moment 
 another would come from the opposite direction and hasten 
 
40 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 down the gloomy hallway; and then this person, too, would 
 disappear. 
 
 "Is Robert's office here?" 
 
 "He only practices here." 
 
 'Tve never been in his office," she said. "I seldom went to 
 Abraham's office in Springfield. I don't think men like to 
 have women visiting their offices." 
 
 Swett pushed open a heavy door, and when Mary entered, 
 she saw a huge, depressing room with a high ceiling and 
 dingy windows. At the far end was a platform on which sat 
 an imposing man. Near him, in two rows of seats, were twelve 
 men. 
 
 "What is this?" asked Mary, puzzled. 
 
 "That is Judge Marion R. M. Wallace, and the men in 
 the seats are jurymen." 
 
 "Is there a trial going on?" 
 
 "I don't think I made it plain to you, Mrs. Lincoln," said 
 Swett cautiously, "that you are to be examined as to your 
 mental status." 
 
 "You said it had to do with my money." 
 
 "It has to do with both your money and your mental 
 status." 
 
 "There is nothing wrong with my mental status," said the 
 bewildered woman. 
 
 "May I say that I hope the trial will establish that, Mrs. 
 Lincoln?" 
 
 "Is there to be a trial?" 
 
 "There is, Mrs. Lincoln. You are to be tried for your 
 sanity." 
 
 " Tor my sanity?' " repeated Mary, shocked. "You have 
 tricked me, Mr. Swett!" 
 
 "I should have been more explicit. Naturally, this comes 
 as a shock, but many people each year are examined in this 
 
Chapter Four 41 
 
 court for their sanity. Quite often their sanity is established; 
 then the person goes free and no longer has to face people 
 who say, 'She's not quite right.' You know the phrase, don't 
 you, Mrs. Lincoln?" 
 
 "I do," said Mary feelingly. 
 
 She looked here and there over the room, growing more 
 and more confused. So many people! All strangers. "Where 
 is my son? You said he'd be here." 
 
 "He is here, Mrs. Lincoln. He'll come presently." 
 
 "Oh!" she said. 
 
 "It'll be a simple matter, this hearing, Mrs. Lincoln," con- 
 tinued Swett. "It'll clear up such matters as your statement 
 that they tried to poison you in Florida." 
 
 "I'll be glad to tell them what happened," said Mary. 
 
 "That is all you have to do, Mrs. Lincoln. I'll ask you to 
 excuse me, Mrs. Lincoln. I want to see Judge David Davis." 
 
 "I know him," said Mary, pleased to have the assuring 
 news that he was there. "He settled up my husband's estate." 
 
 "I know he did, Mrs. Lincoln. He wishes you well, indeed." 
 
 "He has always been a friend of our family." 
 
 He walked away, a large, commanding, self-confident man 
 —the kind of man of whom it is said, "He makes a good 
 appearance." In a moment he was in the counsel room, where 
 bulky Judge David Davis was waiting. 
 
 "How did she take it?" asked Judge Davis, almost before 
 Swett was seated. 
 
 "I was as easy with her as I could be." 
 
 Davis nodded. "That's good. She's a fiery female. But she's 
 over her shellburst quickly, which was just opposite from 
 Abe. He was slow to fire." 
 
 The two discussed the case. "She may give you trouble, 
 Leonard," said Judge Davis. "You know how a jury is apt 
 to side with a lone woman, especially if she is lachrymose." 
 
42 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "This jury won't." 
 
 "Oh!" said Judge Davis. He was silent, his brow drawn in 
 thought. "Damn it, Swett, I have twinges of conscience." 
 
 "You shouldn't, Judge," declared Swett. "We're doing it 
 for her and, of course, Bob. She'll be much better off under 
 state supervision." 
 
 "Remember, you never know which way a jury will jump." 
 
 "I realize that, Judge. But, defensively, I have formulated 
 a rather good way to present my case, and that's to take 
 advantage of her temper and her prejudices. No woman has 
 as many crotchets as Mary Lincoln." 
 
 "Be careful. She has a razor tongue. Intimate, Leonard, 
 don't assert. Instead of saying she is not quite all there men- 
 tally, insinuate. Fire the imagination of the jurors. Let them 
 think they've discovered the situation for themselves. It 
 took me years to discover what I'm telling you." 
 
 He paused, seemingly coming up against something that 
 subconsciously was troubling him. "I know what we're say- 
 ing sounds cold and calculating, but we also know we are 
 doing it for her good. If I did not think that it was best to 
 have her removed to an institution, I would not have coun- 
 seled her son to that effect. I had a high regard for Mary 
 Lincoln before she became mentally disarranged." 
 
 "So had I," said Swett. "I feel a deep pity for her." 
 
 "We're doing it for her good, we both know that," said 
 Judge Davis, as if arguing with himself. 
 
 Swett returned to Mrs. Lincoln. 
 
 "Who has made these charges against me, Mr. Swett?" she 
 asked. 
 
 Swett hesitated. "Your son," he said finally. 
 
 She looked at him in disbelief. "Do you mean that Robert 
 has put through papers that I should be examined to see 
 if I'm sane?" 
 
 
Chapter Four 43 
 
 "It's that way, Mrs. Lincoln/' 
 
 She sat stunned, looking at her hands. "My son! It cannot 
 be." 
 
 "It's all for the best, Mrs. Lincoln." 
 
 "That is foolish talk, Mr. Swett, and you know it." Her 
 voice rose till it was high and sharp. "Why didn't you tell 
 me at the hotel?" 
 
 "I thought it would be best to wait till we got here. Also, 
 Mrs. Lincoln, I hated to tell you." 
 
 "It must have been hard on you, Mr. Swett." 
 
 He was surprised at how difficult it was to tell her what 
 he must now speak of: 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln, I have to tell you something that may 
 not please you. The court has appointed me the examining 
 attorney." 
 
 "I'm not sure I know what that means." 
 
 "It means I'm the prosecuting attorney." 
 
 There was a silence. 
 
 "I'm not surprised, Mr. Swett. Abraham once told me that 
 you ran with the hounds or the hare, whichever side you 
 thought would win." 
 
 He protested, stung by her biting words. He was doing it 
 for her son, he asserted, and for her, too. As he fumbled 
 along, smoothing the matter over as best he could, she sat 
 looking at him with eyes that, at times, were piercing. 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me this before?" 
 
 "I wanted to spare you as much as I could." 
 
 "Your consideration touches me deeply." 
 
 Swett, seeing how well she could defend herself, realized 
 he was going to have troubles he hadn't counted on. With 
 her quick thinking she might win the jury over. "You'll 
 have to excuse me, Mrs. Lincoln. I have to go. I have many 
 things to think of." 
 
44 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "I'm sure you have, Mr. Swett." 
 
 As she was left alone in the room, it began to dawn on her 
 that she had been tricked, and her fighting spirit rose. Swett 
 was cunning and crafty and ruthless, but the jury would not 
 be deceived; they would support the widow of their great 
 President, she told herself. 
 
 Judge Davis came ponderously up and took Mary's hand 
 in his great meaty one. "How are you, Mary? I'm glad we 
 meet again, although I deplore the circumstances." He sank 
 down in a chair with a little half-grunt. The chair squeaked. 
 
 "Oh, Judge Davis," cried Mary, delighted to see the man 
 who had once meant so much to Abraham, "can't you do 
 something for me?" 
 
 "I wish I could, but I'm here only as a visitor. You may 
 be assured of this, Mary, and you'll be given a fair trial." 
 
 "The jury is in the box. I'm sure that's not the usual way." 
 
 "It's not, Mary. I believe Judge Wallace had in mind that 
 a prior selection of the jury would expedite matters and 
 save you from an extended ordeal." 
 
 Mary nodded. She understood, she thought. 
 
 "Once," continued the pleasant Judge Davis, "I kept your 
 husband from sleeping in a comfortable bed!" He smiled to 
 show that the situation had had humor in it. "Do you know 
 the story?" 
 
 "Yes, I know it," said Mary. 
 
 There was an embarrassing silence. Davis broke it by say- 
 ing, "I esteemed your husband highly." 
 
 "So many tell me that now. I'm sorry my husband didn't 
 know it when he lived." 
 
 Judge Davis shifted uneasily, then, to fill in, said, "Robert 
 came to see me, and we discussed your case. We both felt it 
 would be best to have the situation cleared up legally." 
 
Chapter Four 45 
 
 "Robert didn't tell me he'd been to see you." 
 
 "I suppose he did not wish to dwell on a possible legal 
 action. He will do anything to spare you pain." 
 
 "Where is he now?" 
 
 "He is, I believe, in the attorneys' withdrawing room. 
 He'll be along, Mary." 
 
 "Could he stop the trial if he wanted to?" 
 
 "That would be impossible. A hearing, once docketed, 
 must proceed. I think you will be pleased to know that the 
 court has appointed Isaac N. Arnold defense lawyer." 
 
 "You mean he'll be my lawyer?" 
 
 "That is it." 
 
 "Abraham knew him well." 
 
 "The court took that into consideration. I'll run along, 
 Mary." He went swaying down the aisle, pleasantly nodding 
 to the other attorneys and court officials. 
 
 Word had got around that Mrs. Abraham Lincoln was in 
 the courtroom, and people began to push their way in. 
 
 Swett went into the withdrawing room to see Robert. 
 Robert had become more and more nervous and more self- 
 punishing. Was he doing right? 
 
 "Poor mother," he said, choked with feeling. 
 
 "I feel sorry for her, Robert, but after my hotel interview 
 with her, I feel more than ever that she should be sent to 
 an institution. There is no other course open." 
 
 "I keep telling myself that." 
 
 "Your decision to ask a sanity hearing is the only one 
 tenable. It's the only way you can keep her from dissipating 
 her funds. And then, I'm sure, the court will appoint you 
 conservator. Do you know how much she has in the way of 
 funds?" 
 
 "No." 
 
46 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "I think you'd better go to her, Robert. She is greatly 
 disturbed." 
 
 ''I've been putting it off, Leonard. You don't know how 
 heartbreaking this is." 
 
 "All you have to do is to remember you're doing the right 
 thing." 
 
 Robert still hesitated. "Could the action be non-prosed7" 
 
 "Not readily. Why do you think of that? The situation 
 hasn't changed since you asked me to file." 
 
 "There, in the courtroom, the situation becomes so ter- 
 ribly real." 
 
 "You must go ahead. I'm sure your father would want 
 you to." 
 
 "No, he wouldn't," protested Robert. "He was devoted to 
 her, and would go to any length to protect her." 
 
 "You're going to protect her. You know she can't live un- 
 supervised. Go to her. She wants you." 
 
 "In spite of what I've done?" 
 
 "She's still your mother. You told me that your mother 
 has always worried about money and possessions, that she 
 wants to accumulate money and then spends it foolishly. Now 
 people who live in a mental institution exist in a carefree 
 world, with no money problems." 
 
 "Do you really think that, Leonard?" Robert asked 
 earnestly. 
 
 "I assuredly do." 
 
 "I think this is the hardest thing I ever had to do." 
 
 Robert walked slowly, forcing himself to go. 
 
 Once Mary Lincoln's face had been round and unwrinkled, 
 but now it had lines of suffering. In her hand she held an 
 ivory fan; at her throat was what she called her "mourning 
 brooch." 
 
 "Mother!" 
 
Chapter Four f 47 
 
 Her eyes searched him as if she could hardly believe he 
 was her son. "Why have you done this to me, Robert?" 
 
 "I'm sorry, Mother, but it has to be," he said as gently as 
 he could. 
 
 "Why does it have to be?" she asked. 
 
 "Because of the mental state you're in." 
 
 "I'm in no mental state." 
 
 "I've talked to three of your most trusted friends, and all 
 have said you'd be much better off in a place where somebody 
 could take care of you." 
 
 " 'In a place where somebody could take care of me.' That's 
 the nicest definition of an insane asylum I ever heard. Who 
 were the kind gentlemen?" 
 
 "Judge Davis, John Todd Stuart and Dr. Isham." 
 
 "What did these trusted friends say?" 
 
 "They agreed it would be best for you to be confined," 
 he forced himself to say. 
 
 "It's nice to have kind friends." 
 
 He wanted to put his arms around her and draw her up 
 and try to comfort her, but he could not bring himself to 
 do so. "You know, Mother, you've been spending your money 
 recklessly," he said. 
 
 "I've been spending it the way it gives me pleasure. Is that 
 wrong?" 
 
 "No," said Robert, "but soon it may be all gone." 
 
 "You may like to know, Robert, that I've increased my 
 funds." 
 
 Robert moved uneasily. 
 
 "And then you got Leonard Swett to be the prosecuting 
 lawyer!" continued his mother. "During the war he was a 
 hay contractor, selling hay to both sides. General Grant 
 threatened to have him shot. That's the man you've chosen 
 to prosecute me!" 
 
48 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 Robert tried to explain it. Swett was a reputable attorney 
 whose name would lend dignity to the trial. But his mother 
 was only half-hearing. 
 
 "I keep thinking of you as a little boy," she said, peering 
 into his face. "We boarded at the Globe Tavern, in Spring- 
 field. You were such a darling, with your brown hair, blue 
 eyes and patches on your trousers! Isn't it strange I should 
 remember the patches! I wonder why I keep thinking of you 
 as a little boy instead of as a man?" 
 
 His mother, still peering intently at him, continued in a 
 kind of reverie, as if she had dreamed of this moment a thou- 
 sand times and wished to tell the thoughts she'd had all these 
 years. "You used to hide behind doors and shout 'Boo!' at 
 the other boarders. Everybody loved you. 'Bobbie,' they 
 called you." 
 
 "I remember some of that," said Robert. 
 
 "Do you remember what your father called you?" 
 
 "I'm not sure I do." 
 
 " 'Our dear little codger.' We moved into the house on 
 Eighth Street— eight rooms. I baked and washed and scrubbed 
 and took care of four children and their father. There was 
 no question of my mental state, then." 
 
 "But there is now. I say that with all the tenderness in the 
 world. This is the unhappiest moment of my life." 
 
 "The unhappiest moment of my life was when your father 
 was shot at the theater. Other unhappy moments were when 
 your three brothers died. Now comes a moment that does 
 not deal with death." 
 
 People had filled the seats. They stared openly at Mrs. 
 Lincoln and whispered to each other. She didn't look like 
 the former wife, of a President of the United States. Her 
 clothes were out-of-date, and she had no air of importance. 
 
Chapter Four 49 
 
 After Robert left, she sat alone, gazing vaguely at the 
 crowd. She turned to look at the jury, scrutinizing one mem- 
 ber after another. Did they have kind faces? Would they 
 have mercy in their souls? 
 
 She saw that Isaac N. Arnold was coming toward her. 
 
Chapter 5 
 
 /xRNOLD was a small man, but he was a fighter. 
 He was sixty years old, with gray hair and a prominent nose 
 and a quick, incisive way of speaking. He was called "The 
 Gadfly." He had been born in Otsego County, New York. 
 The spirit of the times was to go West, and this, as a young 
 man, he had done, putting down his stakes in Chicago. Get- 
 ting started wasn't easy, and so he got a job as a country 
 schoolteacher. It wasn't long before he was in politics, which 
 was where his heart was. After a time he was elected to Con- 
 gress. He became an admirer of Lincoln's; in fact, he became 
 such an ardent admirer that he wrote a book entitled The 
 History of Abraham Lincoln and the Overthrow of Slavery. 
 
 Mary Lincoln welcomed him warmly. Here at last was a 
 friendly face. Not only that, but here was somebody her 
 husband had esteemed highly, and someone she knew. Not 
 only did she know him, but he had been in the Lincoln home 
 in Springfield, and had called on them in the White House. 
 
 "How are you, Mrs. Lincoln?" he said, as he took her hand 
 and looked into her troubled face. 
 
 "I'm better, now that you are here. Judge Davis told me 
 that you had been appointed my lawyer." 
 
 "I have, Mrs. Lincoln, and I hope I can be of real service." 
 
 50 
 
Chapter Five 51 
 
 "I'm so glad, Isaac." Southern women did not call men by 
 their first names, but Mary did Arnold. "Abraham," she 
 continued, "once told me you were the best defense lawyer 
 in Illinois." 
 
 He was pleased, for it was no small compliment, coming, 
 as it did, from one supreme in this field. 
 
 And now that the first words of greeting had reunited old 
 ties, Arnold wanted to find out what, so far as she was con- 
 cerned, had happened. He led her to one side, out of hear- 
 ing, where she told him how she had had the dream and had 
 telegraphed Dr. Isham and Robert, and how someone had 
 poisoned her coffee. 
 
 When she'd got to Chicago, Robert had not— thank God!— 
 been ill. She told how she had been living in the hotel, and 
 how men had been following her, and how there'd been a 
 knock at her door, and when she'd opened it, there'd been 
 Swett. 
 
 Arnold listened, shocked. "I think we will be able to con- 
 trovert such a monstrous indictment. What made Robert do 
 this?" 
 
 "I don't know, Isaac. I've never understood Robert. My 
 other sons were gay and laughing and could get along with 
 people, but Robert couldn't. As a boy he had a cast in his 
 eye. The neighbor boys called him 'Cockeyed Bob.' This 
 made him sensitive and shy, and he wouldn't mix. He stayed 
 by himself and played by himself." 
 
 "Why did that make him want to bring you before this 
 court?" 
 
 "I keep asking myself that. I'm always asking myself ques- 
 tions about Robert. He loves me, in his way. Also he loves 
 money. He did even as a boy. He was the one who could get 
 hold of money. He thinks I'm squandering mine. He wants 
 
 of 
 
 g?> 
 
52 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 to get control of it. He won't say this, but I know that's what 
 he wants." 
 
 As she thought of these things that were so important in 
 her life, she became emotional, as was her nature. "I am a 
 poor widow, alone in the world, doing the best I can. Some- 
 times I feel God has deserted me; then I suddenly realize 
 that He is only testing me. I hope I can stand up under His 
 test." 
 
 "I think you can," said Arnold, "and I think you will be 
 a good witness. We're unfortunate in having as our judge, 
 Judge Wallace. As you know, he is a Democrat and so is an 
 enemy of your husband." 
 
 At first the petty officials had stood around, casually talk- 
 ing, but now they hurried about their duties, walking quickly 
 through the room, to return a few minutes later, carrying a 
 paper or a legal-looking document. There was a stir and a 
 sense of excitement which communicated itself to the room. 
 The bailiff took his place beside his desk and bawled out, 
 "Attention! All stand!" 
 
 The people who had been lounging in the seats got to 
 their feet; all eyes turned in the direction of a door at one 
 side of the fore part of the room. It was pushed open by a 
 functionary of the court, who stepped aside and held the 
 door. Judge Marion R. M. Wallace entered wearing his judi- 
 cial robe and iron-rimmed spectacles. When he was seated 
 behind his desk, the bailiff shouted: "County Court of Cook 
 County is now in session. The case of Robert Todd Lincoln 
 versus Mary Todd Lincoln. Application to try the question 
 of the sanity of Mary Todd Lincoln, defendant." And then 
 he dropped down in his seat, little interested in what was 
 to follow. 
 
 Soon Arnold was on his feet, addressing the critical Judge 
 Wallace. He asked for a postponement for a month, on the 
 
Chapter Five 53 
 
 ground that he had not had time to prepare. "Until less than 
 two hours ago, my client did not know she was to appear in 
 court. She was brought abruptly from her domicile and 
 thrust into the present surroundings." 
 
 "Motion denied," said the judge in a monotone that 
 showed how little importance he attached to the proceedings. 
 "Just another sanity hearing," his manner seemed to say. 
 Almost every day such a hearing was held, but mostly it had 
 to do with some destitute creature taken off the street, or 
 someone who plainly was out of his mind. "In a hearing of 
 this kind and under the present circumstances," continued 
 the judge, "a postponement is not considered necessary." 
 
 Arnold again protested, but the judge cut him off with an 
 order to the bailiff: "Summon the jury." 
 
 "I submit," said Arnold, "that my client is being denied 
 her constitutional rights." 
 
 "The court sees no breach of the defendant's constitutional 
 rights." 
 
 "Then may we respectfully ask for a recess of an hour?" 
 
 "The court has answered that in context. There will be 
 no recess." 
 
 "We protest," said Arnold, his indignation growing. 
 
 "Does the defense attorney wish to continue as counsel, 
 or should the court make another appointment?" 
 
 "The defense submits. But the defense also submits that 
 this is a jury empaneled to convict." 
 
 The judge looked over his iron-rimmed glasses. "The 
 court has warned that there might well be another appoint- 
 ment for the defense. The court does not mean to give a 
 further warning." 
 
 Mary studied the faces of the jurymen. Would they be 
 understanding? Would they have mercy for the widow of 
 
54 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 their former President, for whom they must have admira- 
 tion? But, on the other hand, many hated him bitterly. 
 
 "The defense," said Arnold in the biting, sarcastic voice 
 he could so well use, "asks whether it would be within the 
 rulings of the court for the defendant to know, at least, the 
 names and occupations of the jury?" 
 
 "Granted," said the judge, as if agreeing to this against 
 his better judgment. 
 
 Adjusting his glasses and leaning forward in order to be 
 more forceful, he explained that at a sanity hearing the law 
 required there must be at least one certificated physician on 
 the jury. That person— he referred to a note— was present, 
 and he would ask him to identify himself. 
 
 A man in a long-tailed coat arose and gave a little tug at 
 his vest. "I am S. C. Blake. I was city physician for Chicago 
 from 1865 to and including 1867. I am presently in private 
 practice." 
 
 "I shall ask the juror sitting next to him to rise and iden- 
 tify himself as Dr. Blake has done," said Judge Wallace. 
 "After that, the juror next to him will do the same. First, 
 let the foreman identify himself." 
 
 A small man arose and spoke with a voice that seemed 
 loud for one of his size. Judged by his manner, he was ex- 
 tremely sure of himself and of his importance. "My name is 
 Lyman J. Gage, and I am cashier of the First National Bank." 
 
 The man next to him rose. "My name is J. McGregor 
 Adams. I am a member of the firm of Crearer & Adams. We 
 are dealers in foundry castings and foundry supplies." 
 
 The juryman next to him stood up. "My name is James 
 A. Mason, and I am in the foundry business." 
 
 The man next to him: "I am S. B. Parkhurst. I am also 
 in the foundry business, dealing in light and heavy castings, 
 also forgings. We have been in business since 1868." 
 
Chapter Five 55 
 
 Over all hung an atmosphere of haste. 
 
 Mary studied the men as they popped up and sat down. 
 She had, she felt, met the man who had said he was a cashier 
 at the First National Bank. She'd been in there several times. 
 He would at least be friendly, she thought. 
 
 The next man got up and identified himself briefly as 
 Charles B. Farwell, in the wholesale dry goods business on 
 State Street. 
 
 The next: Charles M. Henderson— real-estate business and 
 investments. 
 
 After him came Thomas Cogswell, who said, "I am en- 
 gaged in the jewelry business at 105 and 107 State Street, 
 this city. My name is inscribed in gold letters on the window 
 at that address." Having delivered himself of this, he sat 
 down with an air that said, "You see who I am." 
 
 The next juryman rose. "I am William Stewart, and I am 
 president of Stewart & Aldrich, State Street. We deal in 
 ladies' apparel and supplementaries." 
 
 The next juryman stood only halfway up and dashed 
 through his identification. "Henry C. Durand. Groceries and 
 comestibles, wholesale and retail," he said, and dropped 
 down almost before he had risen. 
 
 The next man said, "I am Silas M. Moore, of S. M. Moore 
 and E. A. Cummings, 119 and 121 LaSalle Street. Real estate 
 and loans." 
 
 "I am D. R. Cameron," said the next man. "By profession 
 I am a bookkeeper, unemployed at present." 
 
 Mary's eyes again went over the inscrutable faces. Was it 
 possible these men held her fate in their hands? Turning, 
 she looked at the mighty little Arnold. He would save her. 
 
 "Is the jury acceptable to the defense?" asked the judge. 
 
 "Acceptable," said Arnold, for that seemed to be the best 
 attitude to take. 
 
5 6 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "Proceed," said the judge. There was a shuffling of papers; 
 attorneys whispered together; there was a stirring among the 
 people in the audience. 
 
 "Do you know any of the jurors?" Arnold asked Mrs. 
 Lincoln. 
 
 "I think I've met the foreman." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 Again Arnold got to his feet. "The defense feels that the 
 jury has been empaneled not to try the case, but to convict." 
 
 "One more comment like that, Mr. Arnold, and you will 
 be summarily dropped as defense counsel. Mr. Swett, you 
 may call your first witness." 
 
 Swett spoke to the bailiff, who moved quickly to a door, 
 threw it open and bawled out, "Dr. Ralph N. Isham." 
 
 The bustling, little man entered, carrying a medical bag. 
 When he saw the clerk approaching with the Bible, he set 
 the bag on the floor. 
 
 "Raise your right hand and swear you will tell the truth, 
 the whole truth and nothing but the truth." 
 
 "I do so swear." 
 
 "Take the stand." 
 
 Picking up the bag, Dr. Isham put it carefully on the edge 
 of the witness stand, sat down, kicked out his legs and pulled 
 up his trousers at the knees. 
 
 "What is your name?" 
 
 "Ralph N. Isham, medical doctor, with an office at 47 
 South Clark Street. Residence, 321 North Dearborn Street, 
 Chicago, Illinois." 
 
 "Are you acquainted with the defendant, Mrs. Mary Todd 
 Lincoln, relict of Abraham Lincoln?" 
 
 "I am." 
 
 "State your professional relationship to the defendant." 
 
 "I act as her medical adviser." 
 
Chapter Five 57 
 
 "Did you, within the compass of this case, receive a tele- 
 gram from the defendant, Mrs. Mary Todd Lincoln?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "Doctor, can you state what was contained in the tele- 
 gram?" 
 
 "I brought it along," he said, taking it from his pocket. 
 
 "From where, Doctor, was it dispatched?" 
 
 "Jacksonville, Florida." 
 
 "And the date?" 
 
 "March twelfth." 
 
 "And the year?" 
 
 "This year." 
 
 "In other words," said Swett, "you received this telegram 
 about two months ago. Is that correct?" 
 
 Dr. Isham silently counted on his fingers. "It was two 
 months and seven days ago." 
 
 "Will you read it aloud?" 
 
 Dr. Isham was delighted to be the center of attention and 
 made the most of it. "I got it at eleven fifteen a.m. at my 
 office, already mentioned. Prepaid. 'My belief is my son is 
 sick. Telegraph. I start for Chicago tomorrow. Mary Todd 
 Lincoln.' End of telegram." 
 
 "Will you tell the court what happened subsequently?" 
 
 "I went speedily to see her son—" 
 
 "Is he in the courtroom?" 
 
 "He is sitting there," said Dr. Isham, nodding his head in 
 Robert Lincoln's direction. 
 
 "Continue." 
 
 "I took a carriage to arrive all the more expeditiously. 
 I found him in abundant health. In fact, he told me he hadn't 
 been ill in ten years. In the interim he had received tele- 
 graphic communications from her— two in all— stating that 
 she would arrive in Chicago, and would we meet her? Mr. 
 
58 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 Lincoln and I, now thoroughly alarmed, went to the depot, 
 where we soon discovered his mother, who looked harried." 
 
 "Did you count this normal human conduct?" asked Swett. 
 
 "Distinctly not." 
 
 "Speaking as a medical man, what is your considered opin- 
 ion as to Mrs. Lincoln's mental state?" 
 
 "In my opinion, she is mentally disturbed." 
 
 Mary, at this alarming statement, fanned herself and glared 
 at the doctor. 
 
 "You have just testified that, in your opinion, Mrs. Mary 
 Todd Lincoln is mentally disturbed," repeated Swett for the 
 benefit of the jury. "In your belief, is this of a serious nature?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How serious, Doctor?" 
 
 "She should have institutional supervision." 
 
 Mary had remained calm and had not spoken, but this 
 was too much. "Oh, what terrible words for the widow of 
 Abraham Lincoln to hear!" 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln, the court asks you not to speak, or com- 
 ment. You are not on the witness stand. You may be later, 
 but such is not as yet the case. Continue, Mr. Swett." 
 
 "You say, Doctor, that Mrs. Lincoln should have institu- 
 tional supervision. Would you amend that to home care?" 
 
 "Such cases are never satisfactorily handled that way." 
 
 "Thank you, Doctor," said Swett with elaborate polite- 
 ness. "You have been most helpful. You may have the wit- 
 ness, Mr. Arnold." 
 
 Arnold rose quickly, for he was a man who moved quickly. 
 "You testified, I believe, that you are a medical practitioner?" 
 
 "I was on the faculty of the Chicago Medical College, 
 usually regarded as the best in the Midwest," he replied with 
 an air of triumph. 
 
 "Are you a practicing doctor at the present time?" 
 
Chapter Five 59 
 
 "Yes. I am a general practitioner, or, as it is sometimes 
 called, a 'family doctor.' " 
 
 "Then you are not a physician specializing in psychology 
 and mental maladjustments?" 
 "I am not." 
 
 "In that case, is your opinion of someone's sanity, or pos- 
 sible insanity, any more valuable than that of the average 
 intelligent man?" 
 
 The little man shifted uneasily. "I have a better oppor- 
 tunity to judge people in times of stress." 
 
 "Are you judging Mrs. Lincoln as mentally disturbed be- 
 cause she believed her son was ill, whereupon she rushed to 
 this city to see for herself?" 
 
 "Her manner was wild and excited." 
 "When she saw her son, did she calm down?" 
 "Yes." 
 
 Arnold moved near the witness, and when he spoke, his 
 voice rose. "Have you waited on Mrs. Lincoln other than the 
 time you went to the railroad station to meet her?" 
 "That is the only time." 
 "Yet you understand her psychology?" 
 "It was manifestly apparent," said the little doctor sharply. 
 "Did you, Dr. Isham, submit Mrs. Lincoln a bill?" 
 "No." 
 
 "Did you submit Robert Todd Lincoln a bill?" 
 "No, sir. I went as a matter of friendship." 
 Arnold drew upon his professional knowledge. "I believe 
 that Robert Todd Lincoln, the petitioner, is a partner in the 
 law firm of Isham $c Lincoln. Is this Isham related to you?" 
 "He is my uncle." 
 
 "In your opinion, if Mrs. Lincoln, with her so-called eccen- 
 tric ways, were allowed to go free, it would hurt business in 
 the firm of Isham & Lincoln?" 
 
60 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "I have no knowledge of that," said Dr. Isham trium- 
 phantly. "I am a medical man, not an authority on what 
 makes a law office succeed." 
 
 "The witness is excused," said Arnold. "You may step 
 down. Oh! Wait a moment, Doctor. In the 'madhouses' of 
 America, is any study being made of what causes insanity, or 
 how it can be ameliorated?" 
 
 "I know of none, sir." 
 
 "The witness may step down." 
 
 The doctor meticulously picked up his bag, and shot a look 
 at Mary Lincoln. As he passed near her, Mary, who was now 
 becoming the fighter, said, "I'm no more mentally disturbed 
 than you are, you old fraud." 
 
 Instantly Judge Wallace was pounding for order. She was 
 not to comment on any of the witnesses, nor on anything that 
 happened in the courtroom. If she did, she would be forcibly 
 removed from the room and would be subject to a fine. 
 
 "Excuse me, I'm sorry," murmured Mary, already ashamed 
 of this display of Todd temper. 
 
 Privately Arnold was delighted that she had spoken so spir- 
 itedly and with such courage, even if misplaced, but he had 
 to observe courtroom behavior and warned her with out- 
 ward gravity that she must not do this again. 
 
 Mary listened, only half-understanding what was hap- 
 pening. 
 
 Swett again gave a name to the bailiff, who went to the 
 witness-room door and bawled, "Samuel M. Turner. Samuel 
 M. Turner." 
 
 A tall, brisk man with a beard came in with a swinging 
 step and approached the clerk. It was evident that Turner 
 had been in court many times and knew what was expected 
 of him. As he entered, he shot a glance at the jury and, no- 
 ticeably, toward Lyman J. Gage. 
 
Chapter Five 61 
 
 The clerk again held out the Bible and, in his singsong 
 voice, swore in the witness. 
 
 "What is your name, and will you please state your busi- 
 ness?" said Swett. 
 
 "My name is Samuel M. Turner, and I'm manager of the 
 Grand Pacific Hotel." 
 
 "Is Mrs. Lincoln domiciled in your hotel?" 
 
 "She is." 
 
 "Tell us of any contacts you may have had with her." 
 
 "She came to our hotel March fifteenth, this year. Imme- 
 diately she became a disturbing influence." 
 
 "Will you," asked Swett, "tell us what exactly you mean?" 
 
 "I will," said Turner with what appeared to be satisfac- 
 tion. "One day she suddenly appeared in my office with a 
 shawl wrapped around her head, like a gypsy. She was wild- 
 eyed and kept fluttering her hands, like this, and muttering 
 incoherent words. 'Come into the reception room/ she said. 
 'Mrs. Lincoln,' I said, 'why do you want me to come into the 
 reception room?' She said, 'I have something to tell you.' 
 'Can't you tell it here in my office?' I asked. 'You must come 
 to the reception room,' was her answer. 'I have a communi- 
 cation to make.' I followed her to the reception room, where 
 several guests were quietly playing whist. In a loud voice she 
 said, 'Something is wrong upstairs.' Immediately the guests 
 began to listen, eagerly drinking in every word. In a low 
 voice I said, 'What is wrong, madam?' 'Everything!' she as- 
 serted in a high voice. 'A man is in my hallway, and he wants 
 to molest me.' The whist players stared openly, making no 
 pretense now of being absorbed in their game. I followed her 
 upstairs and instituted a search of the hallway and other pas- 
 sages." 
 
 "What did you find, Mr. Turner?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
62 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "Continue, Mr. Turner/' said Swett. 
 
 "Then she said, 'He's in my room.' By now she was wild- 
 eyed and was speaking loudly. I opened the door— no one was 
 there. 'Madam,' I said, 'you can see for yourself.' After a good 
 deal of conversation, I got her to sit down in her room, and 
 I repaired to my office. Fifteen minutes later, I looked up, 
 and there she was again with the shawl over her head, exactly 
 as in the first instance. 'There's a man in the hallway who 
 means to harm me,' she said, her hands gesticulating and her 
 eyes fixed and staring." 
 
 "What did you do, Mr. Turner?" 
 
 "I accompanied her to the hallway." 
 
 "With what result?" 
 
 "No one was there. I returned to my office, but had hardly 
 seated myself before a messenger entered and said that Mrs. 
 Lincoln wanted to see me. I went as before. 'He's here!' she 
 said in the same high, excited voice. I instituted a search, but 
 found no one. I got her to go to the room of one of our 
 female help; then I returned to my office." 
 
 "Did she make any more calls on you?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "From your observation, what did you conclude as to Mrs. 
 Lincoln's mental state?" 
 
 "I concluded it was shaky." 
 
 "That is all, Mr. Turner. You may take the witness, Mr. 
 Arnold," Swett said triumphantly. 
 
 Arnold took his place before the jury, uncertain, for the 
 moment, what to say. But it would come! And it did. "What, 
 in general, Mr. Turner, would you say about Mrs. Lincoln's 
 relationship to money, as you witnessed it in your hotel?" 
 
 "She liked to get it, but gave it away without a blink." 
 
 "To whom did she give it?" 
 
Chapter Five 6 3 
 
 "She gave it away, in the form of presents, to the hotel 
 
 help, in fact, to almost anyone she came in contact with." 
 "Did it seem to afford her pleasure to give these presents?" 
 "I think it did. I would say that was a fair statement." 
 "Mr. Turner, did you consider Mrs. Mary Lincoln an un- 
 satisfactory lodger in your hotel?" 
 
 "She caused more trouble than any of the others." 
 
 "Would you have been glad if she had departed?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Did she pay her bills promptly?" 
 
 "We never had any complaints along that line." 
 
 "You had complaints only when she thought she was being 
 
 followed by unidentified men?" 
 "That would be a fair statement" 
 Arnold came closer to the witness and dropped his voice, 
 
 as he did when he was about to ask a pivotal question. "Mr. 
 
 Gage, as you know, is foreman of this jury. Does he own an 
 
 interest in your hotel?" 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Then you work for him?" 
 "That would be a fair statement." 
 "Then you would like to please him?" 
 "Yes, naturally." 
 
 "Would he be pleased if Mrs. Lincoln moved elsewhere?" 
 The belligerent Swett was on his feet almost instantly. The 
 witness could not testify as to what someone else thought. 
 And this the judge sustained. 
 
 "Did he ever tell you he would prefer to have Mary Lin- 
 coln move to some other hotel?" 
 
 "No. But he often asked about her and what was her latest." 
 "What, Mr. Turner, did he mean by 'her latest'?" 
 "Her latest dido— the strange ways she carried on." 
 
64 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "In other words, minor infractions of the rules of the 
 hotel?" 
 
 "That would be putting it fairly." 
 
 "Can you think of anything of a pleasant nature about Mrs. 
 Lincoln?" 
 
 "She didn't complain about the food." 
 
 "Did she ever say her coffee had been poisoned?" 
 
 "No, sir," said Turner. 
 
 "Does she have many visitors?" 
 
 "Her son is the only one, except the delivery men from the 
 stores." 
 
 "She leads a lonely life, then, one in which she could quite 
 well imagine things that are not true, as lonely people often 
 do?" 
 
 "I would say yes to that." 
 
 "Mr. Turner, why, in your opinion, did Mrs. Lincoln 
 wear a shawl over her head, as you testified, like a gypsy?" 
 
 "Because she wasn't right up here." 
 
 This was too much for Mary, who was becoming more and 
 more agitated, and now she shouted, "I'm just as right up 
 there as you are— maybe more." 
 
 Again the judge cautioned Mary not to speak from her 
 chair. She could say what she wished when she was on the 
 witness stand, but Mary was so agitated that she paid little 
 attention to what he said. 
 
 Arnold asked for a twenty-minute recess to advise with his 
 client, and this was granted. 
 
 During the recess, Mary hoped that Robert would come 
 to her, yet she didn't want to see him. Her thoughts and emo- 
 tions were curiously mixed. He was her son, but he had done 
 this. 
 
Chapter 6 
 
 JTEOPLE had been slipping in and out, but as the 
 complications grew and as a net seemed to be forming over 
 Mary, the people remained. They listened intently, wanting 
 to "see what she would do." 
 
 Meanwhile, Mary studied the jury. Was there a kind eye? 
 She especially studied Lyman J. Gage, who kept his gaze 
 averted. 
 
 Swett had the name of another doctor called, and through 
 the door came a large man attired in a long-tailed coat, a 
 flowered silk waistcoat with shining brass buttons, a white 
 shirt and a black tie, which, just then, was the conventional 
 way for a doctor to dress. Again the clerk raced through the 
 oath, finishing with his bored "Take the stand." 
 
 "Doctor," said Swett, "will you give us your name and pro- 
 fessional rank?" 
 
 "I am Willis Danforth, M.D., formerly Professor of Sur- 
 gery and Gynecology at the Chicago Homeopathic College. 
 My office is at 978 Wabash Avenue; my residence is at 1224 
 Wabash Avenue, Chicago, Illinois." Then Dr. Danforth 
 leaned back with the air of one who knows he is important. 
 
 "Will you state your professional relationship to the de- 
 fendant?" 
 
 "In November, 1873, I visited her professionally, treating 
 
 65 
 
66 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 her for fever and nervous derangement of the head. Ten 
 months later, namely, September, 1874, I made another pro- 
 fessional visit. Last week I called on her, at her behest, at the 
 Grand Pacific Hotel." 
 
 "On this latter visit, what transpired of interest to the 
 jury?" 
 
 "It was this way," said the man, thoroughly enjoying his 
 importance. "We were conversing, when suddenly she got 
 up, crept to the door leading into the hall, placed her ear 
 against the door and listened acutely." 
 
 "What, Doctor, was your reaction?" 
 
 "To say the least, I was puzzled." 
 
 "Did she offer an explanation?" 
 
 "None whatsoever." 
 
 "What happened then, Doctor?" 
 
 "She returned to her seat and resumed the conversation as 
 if nothing had happened." 
 
 "Did you consider this normal conduct?" 
 
 "I've never had a case like it, sir." 
 
 "Did anything else of interest take place, Dr. Danforth?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed! She'd recently been to Florida, where, she 
 said, a wandering Jew had tried to seize her pocketbook." 
 
 "Did she enlarge on the statement?" 
 
 "She dropped it." 
 
 "During your professional call, did anything else of a per- 
 tinent nature transpire?" 
 
 Dr. Danforth leaned forward, bursting with a surprise. 
 "Suddenly, in our conversation, she bent over a small table 
 about this high and began to talk to it!" 
 
 "What did she say?" 
 
 "Mumbo-jumbo— in short, gibberish." 
 
 "Did she, later, make any cogent remark?" 
 
 "She did, indeed! She said someone was pulling steel wires 
 
Chapter Six 67 
 
 out of her head. Also, she said that an Indian was taking 
 bones out of her face." He glanced over the audience to see 
 how the people were taking his revelations. 
 
 Mary leaped to her feet and shouted indignantly, "I did 
 not say that. He is twisting my meaning." 
 
 Instantly Judge Wallace was pounding with his gavel, and 
 again he warned her, to which Mary answered, "I don't want 
 any falsehoods told about me." 
 
 Order was restored, and when this was brought about, 
 Swett asked Dr. Danforth whether there was anything further. 
 
 "There is. She said someone in Jacksonville, Florida, had 
 tried to poison her." Encouraged by Swett, he told the story 
 that the jury had already heard, for Swett wanted to drive 
 home this damaging evidence. 
 
 "What else, if anything, did she discuss?" asked Swett. 
 
 "Her son Robert. She said she had lost him." 
 
 "What, in your opinion, did she mean?" asked Swett. 
 
 "That the two were no longer harmonious." 
 
 "Did you arrive, Doctor, at a private conclusion as to her 
 mental state?" 
 
 "I arrived at the conclusion that she was mentally be- 
 fogged." 
 
 "In your opinion, should she be allowed to come and go 
 as she wishes?" 
 
 "In my opinion, such freedom would be detrimental to 
 the best interests of the public." 
 
 "That is all, Doctor." 
 
 As Dr. Danforth started to get down, Arnold said, "Just a 
 moment, Doctor." 
 
 The doctor again settled himself in the seat and looked 
 confidently at Arnold. 
 
 "You have offered as your opinion that the defendant 
 should not have her freedom. Is this a medical opinion?" 
 
68 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "It's a personal opinion." 
 
 "Would it in any way be classed as an expert opinion?" 
 asked Arnold. 
 
 "I just said what I thought, as a man interested in deranged 
 minds," said Danforth, a little less confidently. 
 
 "Do you consider Mrs. Lincoln's mind deranged?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Can a person have a fixation on one subject, and be quite 
 sane on other subjects?" Arnold asked. 
 
 "I encounter this all the time." 
 
 "Now I shall ask you— is Mrs. Lincoln sane on other sub- 
 jects?" 
 
 "I'm not prepared to say," replied Danforth. 
 
 "Why are you not prepared to say? You have given your 
 ideas freely on Mary Lincoln's mentality." 
 
 Swett was on his feet. The defense was trying to intimidate 
 his witness, he said. And this the judge allowed. Mr. Arnold 
 would have to reframe his question, or pursue another line 
 of thought. 
 
 "Are you, Dr. Danforth, a psychologist?" 
 
 "I'm interested in the workings of the human mind." 
 
 "Do you understand the human mind?" Arnold asked. 
 
 "I think," said Danforth, "that I can say with some degree 
 of modesty that I do." 
 
 "I congratulate you. In your professional call on Mrs. Lin- 
 coln, did you take written notes on what she said?" 
 
 "That would be foolish." 
 
 "That remains to be seen. You have testified, I believe, 
 that Mrs. Lincoln said that someone was pulling steel wires 
 out of her head?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "Is it not possible she said that the pain was like somebody 
 pulling steel wires out of her head?" 
 
Chapter Six 69 
 
 "That's what I said," called out Mary, and again the judge 
 warned her. 
 
 "If I had recalled her exact words/' said Danforth, answer- 
 ing Arnold's question, "I would have used them." 
 
 "Then the words just quoted were yours?" 
 
 "If you want to quibble," said Danforth sarcastically. 
 
 "Now in reference to the Indian— may it not have been 
 true that she said it felt as if an Indian were taking bones out 
 of her head?" 
 
 "I got no such statement." 
 
 "When Mrs. Lincoln spoke of poisoned coffee, did you 
 know that attempts had been made in the White House to 
 take the life of President Lincoln by poisoning his food?" 
 
 "I did not know that." 
 
 "Did you," pursued Arnold, "know that two members of 
 the household staff had taken coffee and had been poisoned?" 
 
 "I was not aware of that." 
 
 "If you had known these facts, would it have made any 
 difference in your evaluation of her statement?" 
 
 "I try to look at all sides of a case," said Danforth with 
 exaggerated dignity, "and try to arrive at an unprejudiced 
 opinion." 
 
 "In this case, do you think you have arrived at an unpreju- 
 diced opinion?" 
 
 "I most certainly do, Mr. Arnold," said Danforth trium- 
 phantly. 
 
 "You are a man of firm opinion, are you not?" 
 
 "When I'm in the right, I am." 
 
 "That will be all, Doctor. You may step down." 
 
 Swett gave another order to the bailiff, who again went to 
 the door of the witness room, opened it and bawled out a 
 name. A little man, wearing a flat-topped straw hat, entered 
 
70 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 and walked uncertainly toward the clerk, who said under his 
 breath, "Take off your hat." The little man took it off and 
 held it in one hand while he put his other hand on the Bible 
 and was sworn in. Then he approached the witness stand, and, 
 as he did so, he again became conscious of his hat, and tried 
 to think what to do with it. He started to put it under the 
 witness chair, changed his mind and ended by holding it in 
 his lap. 
 
 "Will you," said Lawyer Swett, "give us your name and 
 business affiliations?" 
 
 "Stone— J. B. Salesman. Presently employed by Allen & 
 Mackey Department Store, this city." 
 
 "Can you make a statement as to your contact with the 
 defendant?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, I can," said the little man, eager to please. "She 
 came to our store and said she wanted to look at our line of 
 curtains, all imports and considered choice. I displayed them 
 to her, pointing out, as I did so, their pleasing design and 
 excellent workmanship. I was able to sell her three hundred 
 dollars' worth of lace curtains." 
 
 "Were they subsequently delivered to her domicile?" 
 
 "They were scheduled to be delivered that morning." 
 
 "Did you notice anything unusual about her conduct?" 
 
 "I certainly did. To speak plainly, she acted queer." 
 
 "In what manner, Mr. Stone?" 
 
 "She kept glancing behind her with an alarmed look on 
 her face. Once she stepped behind a display of curtains, and 
 peeped out from behind them like a skulking Indian. 'Shoosh!' 
 she said, putting her finger to her lips. 'Is he gone?' she asked. 
 Ts who gone?' I asked. 'The man who is following me,' she 
 replied. 'Madam,' I said, 'no man is following you.' 'You 
 don't know what you're talking about,' she spit back. It was 
 very disconcerting." 
 
Chapter Six 71 
 
 "What did you do?" 
 
 "In order to solace her, I walked here and there, pretending 
 to look behind counters and under tables to show that no 
 unidentified man was there." 
 
 "Did you," asked Swett, "convince her?" 
 
 "No, sir, I did not. In fact, she said, 'You looked silly peep- 
 ing behind those things.' " 
 
 "From your observation, Mr. Stone, what would you de- 
 duce as to her mental condition?" 
 
 "Shaky, sir. Downright shaky." 
 
 "That is all, Mr. Stone. Your witness, Mr. Arnold." 
 
 Arnold whispered a moment with Mary Lincoln, nodding 
 his head as she gave him information. 
 
 "You testified, Mr. Stone, that Mrs. Lincoln acted queer. 
 Can you be explicit by telling us just how she acted queer?" 
 
 "She kept waving her hands in a strange way— like this— 
 and making twitching faces— like this— an' puckering up her 
 lips— like this." 
 
 "Excellently portrayed, Mr. Stone!" declared Arnold. "Now 
 let's go back to the sale of the lace curtains. Had you previ- 
 ously known that Mrs. Lincoln did not have a house and that 
 she was living in a hotel room?" 
 
 "I was cognizant of that." 
 
 "You testified, I believe, that you considered her mental 
 state 'shaky.' If so, why did you sell her expensive furnish- 
 ings?" 
 
 "Our store expects us to sell all we can. We are rated by 
 our sales." 
 
 "Did other salesmen take advantage of her?" 
 
 Swett got quickly to his feet. "I submit to the court the 
 witness cannot testify as to what others did." 
 
 "Sustained," said the judge in his same uninterested man- 
 ner. 
 
72 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 Arnold, after a whispered conversation with Mary Lincoln, 
 said that he had no further questions, and the man was ex- 
 cused. He had taken but a step or two, when he remembered 
 his hat. Returning, he picked it up, inspected it and rubbed 
 off some imaginary dust. Then he was gone. 
 
 In a kind of fatal fascination, Mary Lincoln watched the 
 witnesses come and go, and listened in shocked unbelief to 
 their testimony. Some of the witnesses she remembered only 
 vaguely, but there they were, blithely telling the jury what 
 they had seen, or what they believed. One was Dr. Nathan S. 
 Davis, who identified himself by saying that formerly he had 
 been with the Chicago Medical College, but now was en- 
 gaged in private practice. Under Swett's guidance he testified 
 that he'd been called to attend Mrs. Lincoln for epilepsy, but 
 when he had examined her, he had found that she was free 
 from it. On this occasion, he continued, he had observed her. 
 This he'd done, he said, and had come to the conclusion that 
 she was not a normal person. 
 
 When Arnold took up the cross-examination, it developed 
 that things were not quite as one-sided as the doctor had led 
 the jury to believe. He had not seen Mary Lincoln in four 
 years and then, further examination revealed, had remained 
 only a short time. Was he a psychologist? Arnold asked. He 
 was not, the doctor explained a bit less pretentiously, but 
 he'd studied human nature "in its many ramifications." Mary 
 Lincoln was, in his opinion, an "eccentric woman, hard to 
 manage." 
 
 "Did you, on your first and only visit to Mrs. Lincoln, ob- 
 serve anything strange or unusual about the defendant?" 
 asked Arnold. 
 
 "Yes. She kept talking about her three dead sons. I wanted 
 to leave," said the doctor, "but she kept on talking about her 
 three dead sons." 
 
Chapter Six 73 
 
 "Do you consider it unnatural that this lonely woman 
 should want to talk about her dead sons?" 
 
 "It was, to the extent she carried it." 
 
 "What did you do in this trying situation?" 
 
 "I listened," replied the doctor. 
 
 "Did you offer sympathy?" 
 
 "I always do that," said Dr. Davis smugly. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 Dr. Davis seemed puzzled by the question. "To make them 
 feel better!" he said, as if not understanding Arnold's lack of 
 perception. 
 
 "I see. Did she speak of any other pertinent subject?" 
 
 "She got to talking about General U. S. Grant. She gave 
 him hi-de-ho." 
 
 "In what respect did she give General Grant 'hi-de-ho'?" 
 
 "She said he was a butcher. For some reason or other, she 
 hated General Grant." 
 
 "Did you explore her reasons for this attitude?" asked the 
 little gadfly. 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 "Did you, in your conversation, form the opinion that she 
 was approaching a nebulous mental state that might be de- 
 fined as insanity?" 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 "Then," continued Arnold, "if a state of insanity has come 
 on, it would be after your examination of her, a minimum of 
 four years ago?" 
 
 "That would seem logical." 
 
 "Can you be more specific?" 
 
 "Yes," said Davis, "it would have had to come on after I 
 examined her." 
 
 "Then you do not give, as a professional opinion, that 
 Mary Todd Lincoln is mentally deranged?" 
 
74 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "I do not." 
 
 "Thank you, Doctor," said Arnold. "You may step down." 
 
 Mary felt more and more confidence in Isaac Arnold. He 
 was clever; more than that, he was extremely deft in cross- 
 examination. No wonder her husband had said that Arnold 
 was an unusually fine trial lawyer. Thank God, she had him! 
 
 Again Swett gave a name to the bailiff. A girl, twenty-five 
 years old, appeared. She paused and stared around in a con- 
 fused and bewildered way. She cast a nervous glance at the 
 judge as if, in some way, she thought he might reprimand 
 her. After this brief apprehensive glance, she continued across 
 the room in her squeaking Sunday shoes, taking awkward, 
 ungainly steps. Seeing Lyman J. Gage, she smiled. Here was 
 a friend. 
 
 The clerk approached with the Bible. 
 
 Her name was Maggie Gavin, and she had worked for 
 seventeen months at the Grand Pacific Hotel. 
 
 "What did you do before you got employed at the hotel?" 
 asked Swett. 
 
 "I was married." 
 
 "Are you married now?" 
 
 "Sometimes." 
 
 "Do you," asked Swett, "serve the defendant?" 
 
 "I wait on Mrs. Lincoln," said Maggie. 
 
 "Is there not a colored girl who also attends Mrs. Lincoln?" 
 
 "We take turnabout, her one day, me the next and so on." 
 
 "What is the nature of your service, Miss Gavin?" 
 
 "I clean up her room and take care of it and so on." 
 
 "How long have you been attending Mrs. Lincoln?" asked 
 Swett. 
 
 "In the neighborhood of two months." 
 
 "In that length of time you've come to know her quite 
 well, have you not?" 
 
Chapter Six 75 
 
 "I have," said Maggie firmly. 
 
 "Have you noticed anything strange, or unusual, about 
 her?" 
 
 "Have I! Lah me!" Miss Gavin rolled her eyes to show 
 what she had been through. 
 
 "Is your answer Yes, Miss Gavin?" 
 
 "It is," said Miss Gavin. 
 
 "Will you tell us about her?" 
 
 "I don't hardly know where to begin," said Maggie, wres- 
 tling with the trying situation. 
 
 "I suggest you think of some concrete instance that comes 
 to mind." 
 
 Maggie brightened up. "I've got it! One day when I was 
 working away in her room, she called out, 'Maggie, come 
 quick.' I got over to the window where she was standin'. 
 'What is it?' I says. 'Over there/ she says, pointing. I looked, 
 an' there was a chimney with smoke comin' out the top. 
 'What is wrong, ma'am?' I says. A wild look came into her 
 eyes. 'See that angry smoke comin' out of the chimney!' she 
 says. 'What about it?' I says. She says, 'Chicago burned up 
 once an' it might burn up again.' I humored her, as that is 
 the best way to handle a person who's balmy. I says, 'Don't 
 worry about it, Miz Lincoln. There's lots of smokin' chim- 
 neys in Chicago. Besides,' I says, 'the Chicago fire didn't start 
 from a chimney. It started from a cow kicking over a lantern.' 
 The cow story didn't calm her. She says, 'I'm always afraid of 
 fire.' She was so upset I had to give her laudanum drops." 
 
 "Did she quiet down?" 
 
 "She kept saying another fire might break out, and she was 
 so jumpy I had to give her more drops. 'I wouldn't care if I 
 took too many,' she says. I felt sorry for her, even if she was 
 important and I was just hired to wait on her." 
 
76 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "Have you noticed anything else unusual about her?" Swett 
 asked. 
 
 "Lah me! She's got six trunks in her room, big square 
 ones with leather handles. She buys things, puts them in her 
 trunks and forgets what it is and where it is. She's got one of 
 Tad's suits when he was a little boy. She don't ever forget 
 where that is." 
 
 "Have you observed anything unusual in her conduct?" 
 
 "Every day I observe something." 
 
 "Will you give us an example?" 
 
 "Lah me! She says she's being followed by men, gets wild- 
 looking, peeks out the window, then jumps back so they won't 
 see her." 
 
 "Have you observed men following her?" 
 
 "I'll have to answer No to that. One day she says, 'Maggie, 
 open the hall door suddenly,' which I went and did." 
 
 "And what did you see?" 
 
 "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." 
 
 "Can you add to what you have already told us?" asked 
 Swett. 
 
 "Another day she came rushing back from trading in one 
 of the stores, and said, 'Maggie, a man has been following me. 
 He followed me into the store and he followed me out.' I 
 said, 'Miz Lincoln, that couldn't be. No man is followin' 
 you.' " 
 
 "Did your reassurance help the situation?" 
 
 "She said I didn't know what I was talkin' about." 
 
 "You are a great help to us, Miss Gavin," declared Swett. 
 "Do you think of some further incident that would illustrate 
 her strange conduct?" 
 
 "I could if I had time to think," said Maggie. "Oh, yes! 
 I've got it! One day she said to me, 'Maggie, I was out on 
 State Street today, and a man came up, snatched my purse and 
 
Chapter Six 77 
 
 ran away.' I was sorry for her, for I knew she carried consid- 
 erable money around. I went on with my work and a few 
 minutes later found her purse. I held it up. 'Miz Lincoln,' I 
 says, 'no man ran away with your purse. Here it is, safe and 
 sound.' 'I know what happened,' said Miz Lincoln. 'The man 
 brought it back and slipped it into the bureau drawer.' I told 
 her that no one could get in her room and leave a purse in 
 her bureau drawer without being seen, but she didn't pay 
 any attention to what I said— began to talk about something 
 else." 
 
 "Did you," Swett continued, "observe anything else of an 
 unnatural nature?" 
 
 "She was always laying into General Grant." 
 
 "What did she say about General Grant?" asked Swett, 
 leading her on. 
 
 "She said he was a butcher." 
 
 There was a pause while Swett let the statement impress 
 the jury. "In your opinion, Miss Gavin," he continued, "what 
 is Mrs. Lincoln's mental condition?" 
 
 "Plain batty," said Maggie. 
 
 "You may have the witness, Mr. Arnold," said Swett. 
 
 Arnold held a whispered consultation with Mary Lincoln, 
 then turned to Maggie Gavin, who was now enjoying her new 
 prestige. "Miss Gavin, do you know anyone on this jury?" 
 
 Maggie pointed at Lyman J. Gage. "I know him." 
 
 "Miss Gavin," continued Arnold, "I want to go back to 
 Mrs. Lincoln's fear of fire. Did Mrs. Lincoln tell you about 
 the White House stables?" 
 
 "No, sir. She never got on the subject. We talked about a 
 good many things, but we didn't get to stables." 
 
 "Her sons kept their horses in the White House stables. 
 One night the stables caught on fire and burned up the 
 
78 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 screaming, terrified animals. Mrs. Lincoln witnessed the holo- 
 caust. It left an indelible mark on her mind." 
 
 "I can see how it would," said the sympathetic Maggie. 
 
 "You testified that Mrs. Lincoln did not like General 
 Grant. Why, in your opinion, didn't she like him?" 
 
 "I never took it up with her." 
 
 "You testified you gave her laudanum drops," continued 
 Arnold. "Do you think it would be within the bounds of 
 credibility that she had so many laudanum drops that, on 
 occasion, she was under their influence?" 
 
 Maggie thought for a moment. "It might be. The idea 
 hadn't ever struck me." 
 
 "I wish to take up the subject of Mrs. Lincoln's son, Rob- 
 ert Todd Lincoln. Did he ever come to your hotel to see his 
 mother?" 
 
 "Yes. It humiliated him to see the old lady acting like she 
 did." 
 
 "Did he seem to want to help her and make life easier for 
 her?" 
 
 "Yes. Sometimes, when he spoke of his mother, he got 
 choked up." 
 
 Mary Lincoln's eyes flashed to Robert, and in her glance 
 there was sudden tenderness. Her son did love her. She did 
 have someone to lean on. 
 
 "You may step down now," said Arnold, and this Maggie 
 did, and walked in her squeaking shoes to a seat. 
 
Chapter 7 
 
 JL HE parade continued. 
 
 Charles Gilman Smith identified himself as a physician 
 with an office at 209 State Street, and a residence at 94 Calu- 
 met Avenue. He proved to be a colorless little man who, 
 from time to time, leaned forward and cupped a hand behind 
 his ear and said something that sounded like "HehV 
 
 Swett stepped forward. He wanted to impress the jury with 
 the array of medical men that he was presenting, and, from 
 time to time, repeated the word "doctor." 
 
 "Doctor, how long have you been in practice?" 
 
 "In Illinois, twenty-two years." 
 
 "Have you, Doctor, ever been called to attend a member 
 of the Lincoln family?" 
 
 Smith leaned forward and cupped a hand behind his ear. 
 tr Heht" 
 
 Swett repeated his question. 
 
 "I was once called to attend Thomas Lincoln, a minor, 
 usually called Tad." 
 
 "Tell the jury whether you diagnosed his case." 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "Tell the jury what you found." 
 
 "The patient had dropsy of the chest." 
 
 79 
 
80 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "Did you medically examine, or treat, Mary Todd Lin- 
 coln?" 
 
 "I attended only Thomas Lincoln." 
 
 "While attending Thomas Lincoln, did you take occasion 
 to observe the mother?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "What conclusion did you arrive at?" asked Swett. 
 
 "That she was non compos mentis." 
 
 "In simple language, that means she was not mentally com- 
 petent, does it not?" 
 
 "That would be a free translation of the Latin text." 
 
 "Now I will ask you— did she say, or do, anything that you 
 considered abnormal?" 
 
 "She suddenly lashed out at General Grant." 
 
 "What did she say?" 
 
 "She said that when the war broke out, Grant had slaves 
 but General Robert E. Lee didn't have slaves. She was bitter 
 and unreasonable about General Grant." 
 
 "In view of all this, do you think Mrs. Lincoln is mentally 
 insecure?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Do you think she should be committed to a mental in- 
 stitution?" 
 
 "In my opinion, that would be the humane thing to do." 
 
 "That will be all, Dr. Smith," said the pleased Mr. Swett. 
 "Your witness, Mr. Arnold." 
 
 Arnold took his place before the witness. He hesitated, 
 then, with his mind made up, spoke quickly and tellingly. 
 "Doctor, did you confer with anybody before testifying in 
 this case?" 
 
 Dr. Smith cupped his ear. "Heh?" 
 
 When Arnold repeated the question, Smith moved un- 
 
Chapter Seven 81 
 
 easily. "In a way, yes. Several of us physicians got together 
 and discussed the case." 
 
 "At whose behest did you discuss the case?" 
 
 "Robert Lincoln's." 
 
 "What did Robert Lincoln say?" 
 
 "He said that he was very much concerned about his mother 
 and that he believed she was losing her mind. He said that 
 he loved his mother and wanted to do what was best for her." 
 
 "Did he indicate that she should be put into an insane 
 asylum?" 
 
 "He did not use the words." 
 
 "Your conclusion about Mary Todd Lincoln's alleged in- 
 sanity is based on your observation when you were called to 
 attend her son, and on the pre-trial talk you physicians had 
 when you got together at Robert's behest. Is that correct?" 
 
 "There was no doubt of her insanity." 
 
 "Can you make an unconditional answer?" asked Arnold. 
 
 "My answer to your question is Yes." 
 
 "You are a friend of Robert Todd Lincoln's?" 
 
 "I consider myself a good friend of Robert Lincoln's." 
 
 There were more questions. He hadn't leaped to conclu- 
 sions, he said; he'd arrived at them by orderly process of 
 reasoning. No, he hadn't given Mary Todd Lincoln any tests; 
 nor had he had any direct communication with her on the 
 subject. At last he was allowed to step down; he walked along 
 the aisle, looking for a seat. Finding one, he sat down and 
 put his hand behind his ear. 
 
 A strange character was brought out of the room where 
 there seemed to be no end of witnesses, all prepared to tes- 
 tify against Mary Todd Lincoln. He was a little bantam of 
 a man. After he was seated, he looked out across the crowded 
 courtroom as if enjoying being the center of attention. 
 
82 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 ''Will you be good enough to give us your name and posi- 
 tion, please?" asked Swett. 
 
 "John Fitzhenry, usually called John, waiter at the Grand 
 Pacific Hotel." 
 
 "Do you serve Mrs. Lincoln?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "What kind of person have you found her to be?" 
 
 "A bit of a problem, sir." 
 
 "Can you be more specific?" Swett asked. 
 
 "She pecks at her food. Sometimes she don't even peck- 
 leaves it untasted. When I take it to her room, it's the same 
 way. When I come back for the tray, there's the food, just like 
 it was when it left the kitchen, only cold." 
 
 "Has she ever made any comment about the food?" asked 
 Swett, hoping the answer would deal with poisoning. 
 
 "She has, sir." 
 
 "Will you tell us what it was?" said Swett. 
 
 "She said that hotel-cooked food didn't taste like home- 
 cooked food." 
 
 Swett did not show his disappointment to the jury. Quickly 
 he asked whether John had observed anything else about 
 Mrs. Lincoln. 
 
 John thought deeply. "Yes, I have! When she was in the 
 ladies' parlor, she beckoned to me and said, 'Go to the dining 
 room and tell the tallest man there to come to me.' ' 
 
 "Did you do as she requested?" 
 
 "Our manager, Mr. Turner, was the tallest man there, and 
 I brought him to her." 
 
 "What," asked Swett, "did she want with him?" 
 
 "I always have lots to do, so can't stop to listen to other 
 people's business." 
 
 "Can you, Mr. Fitzhenry, think of anything else that would 
 serve to illuminate her character?" 
 
Chapter Seven 83 
 
 Again John thought deeply. His face brightened. "I think 
 I have it! One morning she came down to breakfast an' or- 
 dered her usual.'' 
 
 "What was her usual, Mr. Fitzhenry?" 
 
 "A fried egg. I brought it and placed it before her. She 
 sniffed—like this— and said, 'Take it away an' bring me a soft- 
 boiled egg in the shell.' Naturally I asked was the fried egg 
 unsatisfactory. 'It's been poisoned,' she said. 'If an egg is in 
 the shell, it can't be poisoned,' she also said. I removed the 
 fried egg and brought her an egg in the shell, which she et." 
 
 "Do you think of anything else that would serve to point 
 up her character?" 
 
 Again he did some hard thinking. "Our regular boarders 
 roll up their napkins, place them in silver holders and put 
 them in pigeonhole boxes meant for the purpose. A napkin 
 is supposed to last a week. But Mrs. Lincoln wants a fresh 
 napkin every day. She will not listen to reason." 
 
 "In your opinion, is she responsible for her acts?" 
 
 "I have to judge her by what I come in contact with— her 
 eating and dining-room habits. People who don't eat right, 
 don't think right." 
 
 "What," asked Swett, "is your conclusion?" 
 
 "She don't think right." 
 
 Mary Lincoln watched the court reporters taking it down 
 in shorthand, and the newspaper reporters making longhand 
 notes. Tomorrow it would be in the papers, and she would 
 be disgraced. But, with Isaac Arnold doing so well, maybe 
 her side would win. She again looked at Robert, but he was 
 engaged in some legal papers and did not see her. 
 
 When Arnold stepped forward, Mary could see him tight- 
 ening himself to be at his best. 
 
 "Mr. Fitzhenry, you testified that Mrs. Lincoln asked you 
 to go to the dining room and tell the tallest man there to 
 
84 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 come to her. This proved to be Mr. Turner, the manager of 
 the hotel. Is that right?" 
 
 "You have it right," replied the man suspiciously. 
 
 "Could it be possible that Mrs. Lincoln had momentarily 
 forgotten the manager's name and used a description in- 
 stead?" 
 
 "She didn't mention forgetting his name." 
 
 "Do you think of anything else that might help us under- 
 stand the situation before us?" asked Arnold. 
 
 Again John wrestled with thought. And again he bright- 
 ened. "One day when I was in her room, she called me to 
 the window and pointed to smoke coming out of a chimney. 
 'John,' she said, 'did you go through the Chicago fire?' 'No, 
 ma'am. I said. 'I had a job in Milwaukee.' T lost a friend in 
 the fire,' she said, and that concluded our conversation." 
 
 "Did she extend gratuities?" 
 
 "You mean tips?" 
 
 "Yes, tips." 
 
 "Yes, sir. You can tell in a day or two, when a new person 
 comes to your hotel, if they're going to tip, or not. She was 
 very liberal about that. No complaint. At evening dinner she 
 always left a quarter." 
 
 "The average patron— for an average meal— how would you 
 estimate the tip?" Arnold asked. 
 
 "Man or lady?" 
 
 "Either, or both." 
 
 "A man gives more. If you draw a lady, you're not going 
 to do well. To get back to your question: a dime. Of course, 
 that varies. Drummers are good tippers. But you don't always 
 get a drummer. Sometimes you'll go two or three meals with- 
 out a drummer." 
 
 "Can you think of anything further in your relationship 
 to Mrs. Lincoln?" asked Arnold. 
 
Chapter Seven 85 
 
 "Let me think." He thought for a moment, wrinkling his 
 brow and biting his lips. "Here it is! One time she ordered 
 turkey hen, which we had on the card that day. I brought a 
 choice breast slice and set it before her. She looked at it, then 
 said, 'Take it away.' 'Madam,' I said, 'you have not tasted it/ 
 'Take it away/ she said even sharper. 'What is wrong with it, 
 madam?' I said. Then she said, 'In Kentucky I used to have 
 turkeys as pets. Take it away at once/ " 
 
 "Did you?" 
 
 "Promptly, sir." 
 
 "You have testified that you thought Mrs. Lincoln was 
 eccentric and erratic and had a strange attitude toward food. 
 If she had the right attitude toward food, would you think 
 she was normal?" 
 
 "It'd be a step in the right direction." 
 
 The next witness walked with a wooden leg. He was thirty- 
 two or thirty-three years old. As he stumped past Mary Lin- 
 coln, he paused and glared. Then he started on again, mak- 
 ing the strange hunching motions of a man who has to walk 
 with only one natural leg. 
 
 "What is your name, and what are your business connec- 
 tions?" asked Swett. 
 
 "Willie Wooster, by name. Have a business of my own on 
 Wabash Avenue. Jewelry and personal adornments." 
 
 "Do you know the defendant?" asked Swett. 
 
 "I do," said Wooster in a bitter tone. "I know him, too," 
 he added, pointing to Robert Todd Lincoln. "I was in the 
 war four years, lost my leg, been a cripple ever since. But he 
 didn't lose a leg— he never heard a shot fired. He was a 
 shirker." 
 
 Mary was aroused by the attack on her son. Getting to her 
 feet, she said indignantly, "My son was not a shirker. He was 
 
86 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 attending classes at Harvard. As soon as he finished, he joined 
 the service." 
 
 " 'Joined the service!' What humor! Pass that along to 
 Artemus Ward. You wrote General Grant to give your dar- 
 ling son a job, but he refused. Then you made President 
 Lincoln write him and ask him to give your brave son a job 
 on General Grant's personal staff. Oh, it was in all the papers! 
 There he sits, your brave son, with two good legs under 
 him." 
 
 "Stop him! Stop him!" cried Mary. 
 
 But he could not be stopped. 
 
 "Put him on the stand and ask him if he ever heard a Minie 
 ball sing. Ask him if he ever et meat with maggots for mus- 
 tard. Ask him if he ever heard a handsaw bite into a bone." 
 
 "I've lost three sons," said the tortured woman. "My hus- 
 band was shot down as truly as any soldier on the field." 
 
 To be shot down on the field meant something to Willie 
 Wooster, and he became less heated. "I didn't mean no dis- 
 respect to Abe, ma'am. I looked up to him. We all loved him, 
 and in bivouac we'd tell his funny stories and enjoy a good 
 laugh. He wanted his son to fight," said Willie, his voice 
 growing sharp, "but you kept him from it. That's the truth, 
 and no one can dispute it." 
 
 "Stop, Mr. Wooster," called the judge, "or you will be 
 arrested and open to fine." 
 
 "I couldn't help it, seeing him," said Willie, pointing, as 
 he spoke, to Robert Todd Lincoln, "sitting there in his fancy 
 trousers and polished shoes." Drawing his handkerchief from 
 his pocket, he blew his nose loudly, then returned the hand- 
 kerchief to his pocket. "Excuse me, Judge," he said contritely; 
 "it upsets me." 
 
 When the man was quieted, the judge asked Swett what 
 he expected to prove by his witness, to which Swett replied 
 
Chapter Seven 87 
 
 that he would endeavor to show that the man had sold two 
 watches to the defendant for three hundred dollars and that 
 Robert had returned them and got back the money. 
 
 "We'll accept that," said Arnold. 
 
 "You may step down, Mr. Wooster," said Swett, and Woos- 
 ter started to leave the witness stand. Halfway down, he 
 stopped and addressed the judge. "I'm sorry for the way I 
 fired off. You can't wear a stick like this for ten years without 
 it getting on your nerves." Then he went clack-clack to a seat. 
 
 In addition, the following witnesses testified. They were 
 not important and said little that affected the case, but no 
 doubt the number impressed the jury. 
 
 Mrs. Allen, housekeeper at the hotel, testified that Mrs. 
 Lincoln seemed to suffer from "nervous excitement," that 
 Mrs. Lincoln walked the floor a great part of the night, that 
 she had a closet filled with unopened packages. "I consider 
 Mrs. Lincoln insane." 
 
 Charles Dodge, cashier at the hotel, said that Mrs. Lincoln 
 was "nervous"; she had told him that a stranger had been in 
 her room and that she was afraid she might be molested. 
 
 Mr. Seaton, agent for the United States Express Company, 
 testified that one day in April he had sent eleven trunks to 
 Milwaukee for Mrs. Lincoln. She had told him she was plan- 
 ning on spending the summer in Wisconsin. "I considered 
 her manner strange." 
 
 E. G. Moulton, sales clerk for a dry-goods store, testified 
 that he had sold Mrs. Lincoln eighty dollars' worth of dry 
 goods and had observed her manner, which, he said, "was 
 queer." 
 
 J. S. Townsend, with the Mayo Jewelry Company, testified 
 that he had sold Mrs. Lincoln watches and spectacles to the 
 sum of three hundred dollars. "She acted queer." 
 
88 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 T. C. Matlock, in business for himself, sold her three 
 trunks in a week. "Her manner was excited." 
 
 Dr. Hosmer A. Johnson, formerly a member of the Chicago 
 Board of Health, testified he had listened to the evidence and 
 was convinced that the defendant was mentally deranged. 
 
Chapter 8 
 
 ROBERT TODD LINCOLN was tall and hand- 
 some and was well dressed, so well dressed, in fact, that he 
 was almost foppish. He was thirty-two. His mother had often 
 said that he was not a "true Lincoln." He was an aloof per- 
 son, hard to get acquainted with, hard to hold a conversation 
 with. And he had little or no sense of humor. Quite different, 
 indeed, was his fun-loving father. He was dominated by love 
 of money, which, seemingly, had been inherited from his 
 mother. This did not find expression in personal possessions, 
 as in the case of his mother, but in business assets. He had a 
 high sense of honor. In addition, he was scrupulously honest. 
 No one ever had a complaint as to his integrity. And now, as 
 he settled himself into the witness chair, he turned his eyes 
 away from his mother. 
 
 "What," asked Swett, "is your name, and what, if any, is 
 your relationship to the defendant?" 
 
 "My name is Robert Todd Lincoln," he replied in a low 
 voice, "and the defendant is my mother." 
 
 "You are the son of Abraham Lincoln?" 
 
 "He was my father." 
 
 "What is your business or profession, Mr. Lincoln?" 
 
 "I am an attorney-at-law." 
 
 »9 
 
go THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "With what firm are you associated?" 
 
 "Isham Sc Lincoln." 
 
 Swett came a little nearer; now he would ask questions 
 that meant something. "You heard Dr. Isham testify that you 
 and he went to the railroad station to meet your mother on 
 her arrival from the South. In what condition did you find 
 your mother?" 
 
 "She was," said Robert hesitatingly, "greatly agitated and 
 was acting strangely." 
 
 "Did this disturb you?" 
 
 "It disturbed me, but it was not unexpected." 
 
 "I am not certain I know what you mean, Mr. Lincoln." 
 
 "My mother is given to hallucinations." 
 
 "Can you give an example?" 
 
 "She has always worried about not being financially secure, 
 even when my father was drawing his Presidential salary." 
 
 "How much was this?" 
 
 "Twenty-five thousand dollars a year." 
 
 "Can you cite another example of her hallucinations?" 
 
 Robert moved uneasily, for he was suffering. When he 
 spoke, his voice was husky. "She once said that I wanted to 
 murder her." 
 
 Mary Lincoln half-rose in her great agitation and shrieked, 
 "I did not mean it that way." 
 
 Instantly the judge rapped for order and again warned 
 Mary. "The court asks the defendant to restrain herself. It 
 has been lenient so far, because of the delicate situation we 
 face, but it cannot continue to indulge the defendant. You 
 may continue, Mr. Swett." 
 
 "Can you," said Swett, again addressing Robert, "tell what 
 happened and why your mother made such a statement?" 
 
 "On her arrival from the South, she went to the Grand 
 Pacific Hotel—" 
 
Chapter Eight 91 
 
 "State the location of the hotel." 
 
 "At Jackson Boulevard and Clark Street." 
 
 "This city?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. Chicago." 
 
 "Continue, Mr. Lincoln." 
 
 "She was nervous and low-spirited, and she asked me to re- 
 main overnight. I was glad to do so, and took an adjoining 
 room. During the night I became conscious that she was 
 moving about in her room. She opened the door and started 
 down the corridor, dressed in the scantiest of clothes. I has- 
 tened after her, calling to her, but she paid no heed. She got 
 into the elevator, and I managed to get in, too. She told the 
 operator to take her to the street level. 'You must get off with 
 me and return to your room,' I said. 'I will not do so,' she 
 said. 'I am going to a druggist shop.' I put my arms around 
 her in order to restrain her, whereupon she screamed, 'You 
 are going to murder me.' I tried to pacify her, but she con- 
 tinued to scream. I was shocked to find she was so far gone 
 mentally that she would even think such a thing." 
 
 "Then what transpired?" 
 
 "I ordered the operator to ascend to our floor, which he 
 did. As I conducted her down the hallway, she sobbed and 
 moaned. 'This is where the man hides,' she said. 'There is no 
 man here,' I said, but this did not reassure her. She continued 
 to look wildly about. I managed to get her into her room and 
 finally into her bed. I lay down on a sofa and there spent the 
 night." 
 
 "Did that conclude the incident, Mr. Lincoln?" 
 
 "It did not. The next day I engaged a room across the hall. 
 During subsequent nights she would come to my room and 
 sit there talking in a flighty manner." 
 
 "In these talks, what subject did she chiefly concern herself 
 with?" 
 
92 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "The past. The death of my three brothers, the tragedy of 
 my father. Suddenly she would burst into tears and weep 
 copiously." 
 
 "Now, Mr. Lincoln," said Swett in the voice he used when 
 he approached an important point, "I shall ask you— is your 
 mother a natural conservator of money?" 
 
 "She spends it without judgment." 
 
 "If you had control of her funds, you would spend them 
 more judiciously. Is that true?" 
 
 "I would endeavor to." 
 
 "Has your mother always spent more money than she could 
 afford?" 
 
 "My father was constantly receiving bills that he did not 
 know she had contracted." 
 
 "On receiving such bills, was he short with her?" 
 
 "He was always kind and understanding." 
 
 "Your mother's name was recently in the papers as trying 
 to sell old clothes to secondhand dealers. Can you inform us 
 about this matter?" 
 
 "Along with my mother's urge to spend, she has a streak 
 of economy. Recently this streak suddenly seized her, and she 
 went to New York to sell her old clothes to a dealer in cast-off 
 apparel." 
 
 "Was this to secure funds?" 
 
 "She had funds. The move was part of her mixed-up think- 
 ing on the subject of money." 
 
 "She has always had money hallucinations, then?" 
 
 "Yes, especially since we lost Father." 
 
 "It was a great loss for all of us," said Swett. "You will recall 
 it was I who put him into nomination in Chicago for Presi- 
 dent." 
 
 "I know it quite well, Mr. Swett. It was a turning point in 
 his life." 
 
Chapter Eight 93 
 
 There was a hush in the courtroom, and for the moment, 
 all seemed to sense the spirit of Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 "Is this," continued Swett, "an independent action on your 
 part?" 
 
 "When I was debating the matter of petitioning for a hear- 
 ing on my mother's sanity, I consulted Judge David Davis, 
 who has had the handling of my father's estate, and I con- 
 sulted my mother's cousin, John Todd Stuart, who is the 
 mayor of Springfield, Illinois." 
 
 "With what result, Mr. Lincoln?" 
 
 "They said my mother should be sent to an institution." 
 
 "What, may I ask, is your belief?" 
 
 "My belief is the same." 
 
 "That will be all. Mr. Arnold, do you wish to cross- 
 examine?" 
 
 Arnold took his place before the witness, and waited a 
 moment, as he always did, before he spoke. "You testified 
 you were a member of the law firm of Isham & Lincoln. Is 
 this lawyer Isham any relation to Dr. Isham, the first wit- 
 ness today?" 
 
 "Dr. Isham is the nephew of my law partner." 
 
 "Does this testimony, then, become a family affair?" 
 
 Swett leaped to his feet, entering an objection— the defense 
 was trying to badger his witness, he said. And this the judge 
 sustained, adding, "Mr. Arnold will not make deductions 
 based on assumptions." 
 
 Arnold consulted a note. "The foreman of the jury iden- 
 tified himself as cashier of the First National Bank. Is this 
 the bank you do business with, Mr. Lincoln?" 
 
 "It is." 
 
 "You heard the testimony wherein it was stated that your 
 mother believed men were following her?" 
 
 "I did," said Robert. 
 
94 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "Who were these men, Mr. Lincoln?" 
 
 "Pinkerton detectives." 
 
 Mary Lincoln stood up at this and cried, "Oh, Robert, did 
 you hire detectives to follow me? How could you do that to 
 your mother?" 
 
 Again the judge warned her. Mary stood looking at Rob- 
 ert, crushed, then sank wearily into her seat and began to 
 weep. 
 
 "Why," continued Arnold, "did you hire detectives to fol- 
 low your mother?" 
 
 "I engaged them to report where she had made her pur- 
 chases." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Lincoln?" 
 
 "So I could return these extravagant purchases." 
 
 "Then your mother was correct in her belief that men were 
 following her?" 
 
 "They were her protectors." 
 
 "You are an attorney, Mr. Lincoln, and know courtroom 
 procedure." 
 
 "My answer is Yes, she was right in her belief." 
 
 "Did these men sit in the hall outside her door at night?" 
 
 "They were so instructed." 
 
 "Then your mother was right when she said there were 
 strange men in the hall at night?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Why didn't you inform your mother who these men were 
 and thus save her great agony?" 
 
 "Then I would have had no way of knowing what she was 
 doing." 
 
 "Why did you want to know what she was doing?" 
 
 "So I could return the purchases and get the money back." 
 
 "Did you return the money to your mother?" 
 
Chapter Eight 95 
 
 "I arranged it so she could go to the stores and get it her- 
 self, direct." 
 
 "You have petitioned this court to send your mother to a 
 mental institution?" 
 
 "I'm doing it for her best interest." 
 
 "Does she believe it is for her best interest?" 
 
 "My mother does not. But she should have someone to 
 look after her." 
 
 "Could this not be done in your home, Mr. Lincoln? You 
 are a well-to-do man and have a large house." 
 
 "My mother and wife are not in agreement." 
 
 "Couldn't your mother be received into the home of one 
 of her relatives in Springfield?" 
 
 "They do not wish to accept the responsibility." 
 
 "Is it not," inquired Arnold, "a duty rather than a respon- 
 sibility?" 
 
 "It is a duty that she should be taken care of." 
 
 "You are, Mr. Lincoln, evading the subject." 
 
 "I'm doing the best I can under your uncalled-for lashing," 
 said Robert with more spirit than he had yet shown. 
 
 "I will lead you back to the testimony you have just given. 
 You said your mother thought you were ill, so she came back 
 from Florida to see how you were. Is that correct?" 
 
 "It is correct," said Robert with dignity. 
 
 "You testified that she believed someone had tried to poison 
 her. Is that correct?" 
 
 "It is correct." 
 
 Arnold came closer to Robert and paused, as he always 
 did, before a telling thrust. "Are you cognizant, Mr. Lincoln, 
 that during your family's occupancy of the White House, 
 your mother lived in constant fear that some of your father's 
 enemies would try to poison him?" 
 
 "They tried it twice!" cried Mary. And again the judge 
 
96 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 warned her, showing more patience and understanding than 
 he had yet displayed. And again Mary settled back in her 
 chair, her burst of temper over. 
 
 "Will you, Mr. Lincoln, answer the question?" said Arnold. 
 
 "I knew it at the time, but I was young and did not pay too 
 much attention to it." 
 
 "Mr. Lincoln, is not this the true situation? First, you sin- 
 cerely want to help your mother? Second, that you want to 
 get control of her money?" 
 
 "Objection!" shouted Swett. "He is trying to vilify my 
 client." 
 
 "Sustained," said the judge. "You are playing near the 
 edge, Mr. Arnold." 
 
 "You testified, I believe, that your mother was spending 
 her money too freely. Is that correct?" 
 
 "I think she is no longer capable of managing her affairs." 
 
 "And the next step, Mr. Lincoln? I am eager to know what 
 that is." 
 
 "That she should be institutionalized." 
 
 "Does that mean, Mr. Lincoln, that she should be put 
 behind bars and locked doors, with an iron cot to sleep on? 
 Is that what your impressive word means?" 
 
 "That is one way of stating it." 
 
 "Is there another way of stating it, Mr. Lincoln?" 
 
 Swett leaped to his feet. "Objection! I submit that Mr. 
 Arnold is again badgering my witness." 
 
 Judge Wallace leaned forward, his arms spread on his desk, 
 a habitual gesture of emphasis. "Mr. Swett, you will not say 
 'again.' I did not, when the point came up before, rule the 
 defense was badgering your witness, so 'again' is not involved. 
 Your objection, however, is sustained." Directing himself to 
 Arnold, he said, "Mr. Arnold, you are on the border of con- 
 tempt. The court will not warn you again." 
 
Chapter Eight 97 
 
 "Yes, Your Honor," said Arnold, having, for the moment, 
 a flash of respect for the heavy-minded judge. Then he turned 
 to Robert. "Mr. Lincoln, where does your mother keep her 
 funds?" 
 
 "In her underskirt." 
 
 "How, Mr. Lincoln?" 
 
 "She has a series of pockets." 
 
 "Does she have these securities on her now?" asked Arnold. 
 
 "I believe that to be true," said Robert. 
 
 "How much will they total?" 
 
 "I have reason to believe, about fifty-six thousand dollars." 
 
 At this mention of money, Mary Lincoln got to her feet, 
 excited, her eyes blazing, and shrieked, "But he'll not get it! 
 It's to take care of me when I'm old and helpless." 
 
 The judge was touched by Mary's suffering. "The law will 
 protect you, Mrs. Lincoln," he said in a kindly voice. "Mean- 
 while, please do not offer personal opinions from the floor." 
 
 With this flurry over, Arnold turned to Robert Lincoln, 
 who, for the most part, kept his eyes on the floor. "Do you 
 feel that these little patterns of conduct are sufficient reason 
 to put your mother behind bars?" 
 
 "I feel my mother needs to be confined." 
 
 "The court will order a recess of two minutes while we 
 try to compose ourselves. It is trying for all of us, especially 
 upon Mr. Lincoln, for whom the court feels great sympathy." 
 
 There was a wait of a few minutes, during which Arnold 
 whispered to Mary Lincoln, who wiped her eyes. 
 
 "Mr. Lincoln," asked Arnold, when the court again con- 
 vened, "do you have any feeling that you have been badly 
 advised?" 
 
 "I have not," said Robert with sharp decision. "I went to 
 the men who knew her best and who wished only the best 
 for her." 
 
98 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "Could they have been mistaken?" 
 
 "I do not think so." 
 
 "That is all, Mr. Lincoln. You may step down. The defense 
 has worked under certain difficulties in the matter of securing 
 witnesses, so our list will be somewhat curtailed," said Arnold 
 with bitter irony. "I shall call only one defense witness. Mary 
 Todd Lincoln, will you take the stand?" 
 
 A buzz ran through the audience. What would she be like? 
 Would she show herself to be insane? Or would she make a 
 favorable impression? 
 
 "Are you ready, Mrs. Lincoln?" asked Arnold. 
 
 "I am," she said, as she walked firmly toward the witness 
 chair. 
 
Chapter 9 
 
 X HERE she sat on the witness stand: a small, 
 round-faced woman, whose hair was beginning to turn gray. 
 At her throat was what she called "my mourning brooch," 
 and, in her hand, her ivory fan. 
 
 Arnold stepped before her. "You are the widow of our late 
 President, Abraham Lincoln, are you not?" 
 
 "I am." 
 
 "May I ask, how old are you?" 
 
 Her fan moved back and forth. "Is that necessary?" 
 
 "I think the jury would like to know." 
 
 "I'm nine years younger than my husband." 
 
 Arnold smiled. 
 
 "You love your son, do you not?" he asked. 
 
 Pride flashed over her face. "I have loved all my sons. But 
 Robert and I don't seem to undestand each other." 
 
 "Is this not true in many families, Mrs. Lincoln?" 
 
 "I don't know what is true in other families." 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln, you heard your son testify that he received 
 a telegram from you saying he was ill and that you would 
 come immediately to Chicago. In addition he testified that 
 he had not been ill in ten years. Will you tell us what made 
 you think he was ill?" 
 
 99 
 
ioo THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "He did not write me, and when I do not hear from him, 
 I'm worried. Ever since he was a boy in school, I've sent 
 telegrams to Robert to know how he was. Then I had a bad 
 dream about him." 
 
 "Now reviewing the testimony, you heard Dr. Isham state 
 that at Jacksonville an attempt was made to poison your 
 coffee. Did someone attempt to poison your coffee?" 
 
 "Looking back on it now, I don't think so. I was greatly 
 agitated that morning. I had not slept, and I had a bad 
 headache. The coffee tasted bitter, and it seemed to have a 
 strange odor." 
 
 "Since the poison attempt in the White House, you have 
 had an unreasoning fear of poisoning, haven't you?" 
 
 "It wasn't merely an attempt, Mr. Arnold. Two of the 
 staff became ill." 
 
 "When you go to a restaurant, do you watch for poison- 
 ing?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Two witnesses have testified that you became alarmed 
 when you saw smoke issuing from a chimney. Is there any 
 reason why you should be alarmed when you see such a 
 sight?" 
 
 "Black, angry smoke always alarms me." 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Lincoln?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "Think back into the past. Is there not some memory in 
 which smoke meant something frightening to you?" 
 
 "I don't think of anything." 
 
 "Did you witness the Chicago fire?" 
 
 "I did not, but I had a friend who perished in it." 
 
 "Would it be fair to say that a fire, or the appearance of 
 a fire, would alarm you more than it would an average 
 person?" 
 
Chapter Nine 101 
 
 "I don't know how it would affect an average person." 
 
 "Do you, Mrs. Lincoln, bring to mind any other time when 
 smoke, or fire, meant something personal to you?" 
 
 One reason he was succeeding so well was that he knew 
 from writing the life of Abraham Lincoln many of the family 
 details that no one else was familiar with. 
 
 "When the White House stables burned and the horses 
 screamed in pain, I had to be helped off the grounds." 
 
 "Does the sight of black, angry smoke bring back that 
 experience?" 
 
 "It does, Mr. Arnold. You mentioned that in your book." 
 
 "I am pleased you remembered it, Mrs. Lincoln. You will 
 recall Dr. Danforth, our third witness, testified that a wander- 
 ing Jew had tried to seize your purse. Can you explain what 
 you meant, Mrs. Lincoln?" 
 
 "I meant he was the kind of person who seems to go from 
 place to place without any definite home of his own." 
 
 "Dr. Danforth testified that you suddenly leaned over a 
 small center table and began to talk to it. He said you in- 
 dulged in what he termed 'mumbo-jumbo.' Why did you do 
 that?" 
 
 "I wanted to chase the old blow-hard out." 
 
 At the delighted uproar in the courtroom, there was the 
 whack of the gavel. "Mrs. Lincoln," said Judge Wallace 
 sternly, "you will indulge in no personal remarks about 
 witnesses." 
 
 There was a smile on Arnold's face, but she must not do 
 this again. Going to her side, he warned her. 
 
 "Your son testified, I believe," he continued, "that when 
 he put his arms around you in the elevator, you screamed, 
 'You are going to murder me.' Did you really believe your 
 son would do that?" 
 
102 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "I did not believe it. I wanted to get out, and I thought 
 that was the best way." 
 
 The bailiff banged and sang his song, "Order in the court! 
 Order in the court!" 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln," said Arnold, "I want to lead you back to 
 your childhood in Lexington, Kentucky. When you were 
 about seven years old, your mother died. Did you have a 
 feeling of insecurity?" 
 
 "I did," said Mary with feeling. 
 
 "Did you try to offset this feeling by collecting toys and 
 having childhood possessions around you?" 
 
 "I did, Mr. Arnold," said Mary. 
 
 "Is it fair, Mrs. Lincoln, to state that deep down in your 
 subconscious you had a feeling of insecurity?" 
 
 "I realize now that I had." 
 
 "Is it also fair to state that today, when you buy so many 
 articles, you are proving to yourself that you are secure?" 
 
 "I had never thought of that, Mr. Arnold," said Mary. 
 
 "Is not," continued Arnold, "some deep and profound 
 principle of psychology involved that our professors of psy- 
 chology and mesmerism do not understand?" 
 
 "It could well be." 
 
 Arnold's voice became more personal. "Mrs. Lincoln, do 
 you consider yourself insane?" 
 
 "I don't think I'm any crazier than some of the people in 
 this room." 
 
 Again the gavel banged, and again Judge Wallace had his 
 say. 
 
 "I quite agree with you, Mrs. Lincoln," said Arnold, smil- 
 ing. He grew serious. "Who knows the thin line between 
 eccentricities and madness? The psychologists have given us 
 no clear understanding of the workings of the brain. If the 
 jury will pardon a personal passage, I will say that I like to 
 
Chapter Nine 103 
 
 think of the brain as corresponding to the 'works' inside a 
 finely wrought watch. We do not see them; the layman does 
 not understand them. He sees the watch become eccentric 
 and undependable, but he does not know how to cure it of 
 its eccentricities. The comparison, gentlemen, becomes im- 
 pressive when I say that the human brain is a thousand times 
 more complicated than the finest watch ever brought from 
 France." 
 
 Swett got to his feet. "I wish to compliment Mr. Arnold 
 on his noble comparison. I only wish it dealt with the matter 
 in hand." 
 
 ''Gentlemen," came from Judge Wallace with more spirit 
 than he had yet demonstrated, "enough has been said. This 
 is, after all, a court of law, not a debating society. Mr. Arnold, 
 have you any further testimony you wish to offer from your 
 witness?" 
 
 "I have finished, Your Honor. I shall turn her over to Mr. 
 Swett." 
 
 It could be seen how the tall and immaculate Leonard T. 
 Swett relished his opportunity. "Now, Mrs. Lincoln," he said, 
 "let's take up a point or two that your learned counselor 
 overlooked. First, I would like for you to recall what a true 
 friend of your husband's I was. No one apprised him more 
 highly than I. I've had many a laugh with him, so it is with 
 great regret that I must appear as counsel against you." 
 
 "My husband said you had to be watched like a fox in a 
 chicken yard." 
 
 Swett gave a startled look, but he was too much of an actor 
 to let it perturb him. "Of course," he said, giving a false 
 laugh, "he was having one of his jokes." 
 
 "He said things humorously, but they were founded on 
 truth." 
 
104 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "You are quite right, Mrs. Lincoln/' he said, pretending 
 to agree with her. "Quite right." 
 
 It became evident that he was planning to arouse Mary 
 Lincoln's hot temper and make her say things that would 
 harm her. "Mrs. Lincoln, I want to pause in this hearing 
 and pay earnest and sincere homage to your husband for 
 what I consider the greatest letter ever written in America." 
 
 "Abraham wrote beautiful letters." 
 
 "I refer, of course, to the letter he wrote Mrs. Bixby, sus- 
 taining her in her loss on the battlefield of her five sons. I say 
 that no one can be so callous, or so completely void of human 
 emotion as not to be stirred by this noble epistle." 
 
 "The letter is spurious." 
 
 ' 'Spurious'?" repeated Swett. "What do you mean, Mrs. 
 Lincoln? The letter is part of the culture of America." 
 
 "I'd like to say Abraham wrote such a letter, but that 
 would not be true. My husband was so great that he does 
 not have to live by falsification." 
 
 "We do not want the jury to get a wrong impression of 
 you, Mrs. Lincoln. Will you explain what you mean by your 
 assertion that your husband was not author of the letter? 
 You will realize that we are at an important point. Think 
 before you answer, Mrs. Lincoln." 
 
 "I have thought about it many times, Mr. Swett. Mrs. Bixby 
 had not lost five sons in battle, but only two; two other sons 
 were deserters from the United States Army. The letter should 
 never have gone forward." 
 
 "I'm sure this comes as a surprise to the jury. Is there any- 
 thing else we should know about the letter?" 
 
 "It was written by someone other than my husband and 
 put on my husband's desk. He signed it, possibly without 
 reading it, as sometimes was the case during hurried hours. 
 I do not wish to take a firm stand, but I think the letter was 
 
Chapter Nine 105 
 
 written by my husband's secretary, John Hay, who boasted 
 that he could imitate Abraham's handwriting." 
 
 ''Then it was not composed by your husband?" 
 
 "I have reason to think it was not." 
 
 "Did Mr. Lincoln ever mention Mrs. Bixby to you?" 
 
 "I am not sure he ever heard of her." 
 
 "I see, Mrs. Lincoln. Very interesting. I'm sure the jury 
 will weigh all that you've said. Now, Mrs. Lincoln, I want 
 to lead from what you call the 'spurious' letter, to your child- 
 hood in Kentucky. My distinguished colleague encouraged 
 you to say that a chain of thought started then has affected 
 you all your mature life, namely, a feeling of insecurity. 
 Now, I ask you, did you know, until Mr. Arnold so discon- 
 certingly pointed it out, that you had this alleged feeling of 
 insecurity?" 
 
 "I did not recognize it." 
 
 "Then it could not have been very strong, could it?" 
 
 "I suppose not," replied Mary, hesitatingly, not knowing 
 what he was leading to. 
 
 "Are you prepared to state that almost fifty years ago a 
 chain of ideas started in your mental consciousness that 
 brings you, this day, into this somber courtroom?" 
 
 "I couldn't say that." 
 
 "Of course not!" said Swett triumphantly. "This so-called 
 psychology, phrenology and mesmerism are all poppy-cock, 
 are they not?" 
 
 "I don't know, sir." 
 
 "How, in the name of common sense, can anybody say 
 what idea started in your mind fifty years ago? You yourself 
 don't know. Then how can a mere observer make such an 
 assertion? An idea is a very transient thing. Science says that 
 an idea lasts only a fraction of a fraction of a second— one- 
 tenth the length of a flash of lightning. How can this imag- 
 
io6 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 inary idea of fifty years ago, lasting the snap of a finger, 
 affect your life today? I ask you, Mrs. Lincoln, how could it?" 
 
 "I cannot say." 
 
 "Nor can anyone else," said Swett. "I want to explore 
 matters in your adult life, not fancy beliefs and imaginary 
 findings half a century after they supposedly happened. It is 
 known that Abraham Lincoln was madly in love with Ann 
 Rutledge-" 
 
 "That is not true!" cried Mary, aroused by this subject 
 that had become such a thorn in her life. 
 
 "And he so deeply loved her that, for a time, it was be- 
 lieved he was going crazy." 
 
 "That is not true. I never heard of her until long after 
 we were married." 
 
 "And that his friends took his pocketknife from him so 
 that he would not commit suicide. Tell me, Mrs. Lincoln, 
 is that not true?" 
 
 "It's a shocking falsehood." 
 
 "Is it not true that Abraham Lincoln wept copious tears 
 on Ann Rutledge's grave?" 
 
 "It's not true." 
 
 "A million people believe it to be true, Mrs. Lincoln." 
 
 "That shameful falsehood was started by William Hern- 
 don. Not one word written or printed at the time she lived 
 has ever been found that shows Abraham loved her. All this 
 scandalizing came thirty years after the event. She was nine- 
 teen when she died. This romantic story came from Hern- 
 don's falsifications." 
 
 "Why," demanded Swett, "did he start such 'falsifications,' 
 as you call them? He was your husband's law partner and 
 must have had your husband's best interests at heart." 
 
 "Because he hated me. He was a drunkard. Once he was 
 so drunk that he fell in the street and had to be trussed up 
 
Chapter Nine 10 ' 
 
 like a pig, and carted off to jail. Is that the kind of man you 
 are quoting as an authority on my husband?" 
 "I am only telling what is popularly known." 
 Instantly Arnold was on his feet. "Your Honor, may I 
 suggest that if Mr. Swett is testifying, he be put under oath?" 
 -Objection sustained," said Judge Wallace. "Defense coun- 
 sel will cease offering his opinions." 
 
 -Continue, Mrs. Lincoln," said Swett. "You were speaking 
 of Mr. Lincoln and Ann Rutledge." 
 
 "Herndon," said Mary Lincoln, who was now trembling 
 with indignation, "started the Ann Rutledge story after my 
 husband was dead and could not defend himself. Herndon 
 was a liar, a deceiver and a miserable dog." 
 
 "That is harsh language, Mrs. Lincoln," said Swett, in an 
 
 effort to enrage her and cause her to make wild statements. 
 
 "I want it to be that way," sobbed the distraught woman. 
 
 "You were once the first lady of the land," said Swett. "Do 
 
 you want it to be known that you engage in such indelicate 
 
 language? The jury might get the wrong idea about you." 
 
 "Your Honor," said Arnold, again on his feet, "may I sug- 
 gest that I will instruct my client as to what she should, or 
 should not, do, rather than accept the services of the helpful 
 
 Mr. Swett?" 
 
 "Mr. Swett," said Judge Wallace, "you will observe your 
 
 place and act accordingly." 
 
 "I want it known that Herndon defamed my husband in 
 
 order to strike at me." 
 
 Again Arnold leaped to his feet. "I submit, Your Honor, 
 that Mr. Swett is baiting the witness and trying to lash her 
 into unconsidered statements." 
 
 "The court holds that the line of questioning pursued by 
 the defense falls within the scope of the case. The court will 
 again point out that there are only two issues to be resolved. 
 
108 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 First— is the defendant insane? Second— should a conservator 
 be appointed? All other matters are immaterial." 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln," continued Swett, "I am forced to ask ques- 
 tions I would rather hot propound, but we are dealing with 
 a vital issue— your sanity— so I am forced to ask them, loath 
 as I am to do so. Is it not true that Abraham Lincoln failed 
 to show up for the wedding and that you waited, hoping he 
 would come?" 
 
 This was something that had embittered her for years, and 
 now she answered in a shrill, half-sobbing voice. "That is 
 another of the lies told about Abraham and me. Our engage- 
 ment was broken, and our wedding was postponed for sixteen 
 months, but I never waited anywhere for him." 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Lincoln, was the wedding postponed?" 
 
 "My kinfolks thought that Abraham wasn't good enough 
 for me and worked on him to such an extent that he said 
 we should postpone the wedding." 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln, I will call this to your attention," said 
 Swett, delighted that he had got Mrs. Lincoln to the point 
 where she would make an unfavorable impression on the 
 jury. "William Herndon, in his lecture, declared that Abra- 
 ham Lincoln was afraid to marry you, because of your quick 
 temper." 
 
 "Lies! More lies!" cried Mrs. Lincoln, who was now almost 
 hysterical. "Look at this. My wedding ring. I'll read what 
 Abraham had engraved on the inside. Love is eternal. I loved 
 him with all my heart, and he loved me. He was holding my 
 hand the night he was shot. I felt his hand jerk. His precious 
 blood ran out on my sleeve— and you try to say we were 
 unhappy!" 
 
 "I did not say that, Mrs. Lincoln." 
 
 "That was what you meant." 
 
 "Are you presuming to tell me what I meant?" 
 
Chapter Nine f 109 
 
 "I'm trying to tell you that you don't know what you're 
 talking about," said the fiery little woman. 
 
 "The court," mumbled the judge, "once more warns the 
 witness not to indulge in personal comments about the 
 opposing counsel." 
 
 "I submit that my client has what is called the 'Todd 
 temper,' " said Arnold, "and that my colleague is taking 
 advantage of it so that my client will make a disadvantageous 
 impression on the jury." 
 
 "I have the 'Todd honor,' too," broke in Mrs. Lincoln. 
 "Don't forget that, Mr. Arnold!" 
 
 "Indeed you have, Mrs. Lincoln, and it's something to be 
 proud of." 
 
 "When you left Springfield, Illinois, bound for the White 
 House, how many trunks did you take?" asked Swett as if 
 making a casual inquiry. 
 
 "Two. Abraham roped the trunks, got cards and wrote on 
 them, 'A. Lincoln, White House, Washington, D.C./ and 
 tacked the cards on the trunks himself." 
 
 "When you departed from the White House, as a widow, 
 how many trunks did you take?" 
 
 "About twenty." 
 
 "Many people, Mrs. Lincoln, believe you took with you 
 curtains, hangings, silverware and appointments belonging 
 to the White House. Is this true?" 
 
 Swett knew this would enrage her, for there had been flat 
 statements in the papers that she had deliberately stolen cer- 
 tain White House effects. 
 
 "That's another falsehood," said the trembling woman. 
 "Friends and well-wishers sent us presents— some I left in the 
 White House; some I took with me." 
 
 Swett's voice purred. "Mrs. Lincoln, you would not steal, 
 would you?" 
 
no THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "Your Honor, do I have to answer that absurd question?" 
 
 "If the court please/' broke in Swett, "I am trying to 
 establish that the defendant will do things now that she 
 would not have done in the early days." 
 
 "You will answer the question, Mrs. Lincoln." 
 
 "I never stole a penny in my life." 
 
 "Your Honor," said Arnold, "Mr. Swett is beating down 
 the witness. An ethical point is raised: has a strong person 
 the right to climb to success on the body of a weaker one?" 
 
 "As you suggest, Mr. Arnold, the point is an ethical one 
 and thus need not be explored in a court of law." 
 
 "But see in what a ghastly way it's working out," protested 
 Arnold. "It's the burden of the world today— the strong im- 
 posing on the weak." 
 
 Judge Wallace leaned forward. "It does not concern us 
 what the burden of the world is today. We are concerned 
 with the two questions the court has stressed, and you will, 
 Mr. Arnold, confine yourself to them." 
 
 "I shall, Your Honor. While I am on my feet, I would like 
 to suggest to the jury that there is no accepted definition of 
 sanity. Courts have one definition; physicians have another; 
 lay people, a third. Not infrequently, one court will find a 
 person insane, but a higher court will arrive at a contrary 
 conclusion. When is a person insane? When is a person sane? 
 I'm not sure I know. We see people every day who are 'eccen- 
 tric,' but not to such a degree as to put them into an institu- 
 tion. I submit that this is the situation that confronts us 
 today. As a citizen of our state, I am concerned with how 
 many sane people have been put into asylums because some- 
 body wanted to be free of them. You or I, or any member 
 of this jury can be so protected, if there is enough pressure 
 on somebody's part. It is, I submit, a terrifying thought." 
 
 "Have you quite finished, Mr. Arnold?" 
 
Chapter Nine 111 
 
 ''In words I have. In thoughts I haven't. The unfairness 
 of what I see around me will remain." 
 
 "I take it you said you were finished?" 
 
 "Yes, Your Honor. I've finished this unpleasant theme. 
 However, I submit that this is a question that should be 
 answered. Should Mr. Swett continue to beat the helpless 
 witness down so he can win the case and advance himself 
 politically?" 
 
 ' The court," rumbled Judge Wallace, "sees no reason to 
 order Mr. Swett to change his line of questioning." 
 
 Swett again turned to Mary. "Mrs. Lincoln, you loved the 
 South, didn't you?" 
 
 "Yes, I loved it." 
 
 "Were you loyal to the North?" 
 
 "I was." 
 
 "How many relatives did you have serving with the Con- 
 federacy?" 
 
 "One brother, three half-brothers and three brothers-in- 
 law. I hoped they would either be captured or killed, because, 
 if they could, they would have killed my husband." 
 
 "Calm yourself, Mrs. Lincoln," said the judge, touched 
 by Mary's distress. 
 
 As if she had not heard the admonition, Mary shouted, 
 "How can I be calm with this hay-contractor firing at me?" 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln," said Swett, choosing to overlook what she 
 had said, "I want to explore your attitude toward your son." 
 
 "I love him very much, but . . ." 
 
 "But what, Mrs. Lincoln?" 
 
 "How could he do this to me?" 
 
 "When your son was in Phillips Exeter Academy, did he 
 take the examinations for entrance into Harvard?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
112 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "Is it true that he failed in fourteen out of fifteen sub- 
 jects?" 
 
 "The examiners were unfair." 
 
 "Is it not true," continued Swett, "that he had to be 
 tutored and take the examinations the second time?" 
 
 "So did others." 
 
 "We are interested only in the case immediately before 
 us." 
 
 "You cannot say a word against my son," said Mary. 
 
 "Shall I," asked Swett, "repeat the question?" 
 
 "Judge," Mary cried out, "can't you make him stop these 
 foul accusations?" 
 
 "His line of question is legal, madam." 
 
 "In my own defense, Mrs. Lincoln, I must say I am mak- 
 ing no accusations. I am trying to establish a family relation- 
 ship. You once loved your son— now there is a wall between 
 you. What made that wall, Mrs. Lincoln?" 
 
 "I don't know," choked Mary Lincoln. 
 
 "It was testified by William Wooster, the witness with one 
 limb, that your son was a shirker. Is this true?" 
 
 "I told you once before what I thought of that man. No, 
 Mr. Swett, my son was not a shirker." 
 
 Arnold addressed the court. "Your Honor, I submit that 
 Mr. Swett is purposely leading my witness into ill-considered 
 statements." 
 
 "The court holds that the attorney's questions are germane 
 to the subject." 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln," continued Swett triumphantly, "did your 
 son lounge around headquarters while other boys his age 
 died on the battlefield?" 
 
 "He didn't 'lounge around headquarters,' as you call it, 
 and he didn't buy hay from the North and sell it to the 
 South." 
 
Chapter Nine 113 
 
 "Cease your insinuations, Mrs. Lincoln," said the judge. 
 "The court will remind you that Mr. Swett is not on trial." 
 
 "He should be," said Mary. 
 
 "Cease," said the judge sternly. 
 
 "I'll cease when he stops his lies." 
 
 "I protest," said Swett in an injured tone, "that I am telling 
 no lies." 
 
 "You lied about the hay, and you lied about the quick- 
 silver mine in California." 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln," said the judge severely, "you are doing 
 your case a grave injustice." 
 
 "The way things are going, I haven't a case." 
 
 "You have, Mrs. Lincoln. It hasn't been established that 
 you are mentally ill, and it will not be so established until 
 the jury brings in its verdict." 
 
 "I pray to God they'll set me free!" cried Mary. "I don't 
 want to go behind bars." 
 
 Robert was so moved that he got up and came toward his 
 mother, suffering on his face. "Mother," he choked, "I could 
 not help it. You'll be better off." 
 
 She stood looking intently at him for some moments, then 
 turned from him and walked slowly to her seat. 
 
 When it came time for Arnold to make his appeal to the 
 jury, he did so with deep feeling. "Mrs. Lincoln has been 
 hated and reviled more than any other woman who has ever 
 been in the White House. She was called an Abolitionist by 
 the South, and a Secessionist by the North. She has walked 
 the floor many nights and has suffered many physical ills, and 
 has, as you know, lost her husband and three sons. And now, 
 without even an hour's warning, she has been hauled out 
 of her hotel and thrust into this courtroom. What has been 
 testified against her? That she believed she found poison in 
 her coffee in Florida. That she thought her son was ill and 
 
n 4 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 hastened to him. That she saw smoke coming out of a chim- 
 ney and said that Chicago might have another fire. That she 
 talked through walls. That she spent too much money. That 
 she 'pecked* at her food. That she thought men were follow- 
 ing her. And now comes a blow to this loving, bewildered 
 mother: her son wants to place her in an insane asylum." 
 
 The trial moved along; at last this part was over, and the 
 jury went out. 
 
Chapter 10 
 
 A 
 
 T times Mary Lincoln seemed keenly alive to 
 everything that was going on; at other times she did not 
 appear to realize what was taking place. One thing, however, 
 was evident, and this was that she did not want to talk to 
 Robert. But now, as they waited for the verdict, he came 
 toward her. 
 
 "Mother, won't you speak to me?" 
 
 "Robert, tell me that you did this because you were ad- 
 vised by others." 
 
 "I consulted others, as I wanted to be sure that I was doing 
 the right thing." 
 
 'The right thing'!" she repeated bitterly. 
 
 "Father knew you had money obsessions." 
 
 "But he didn't think I was insane. He depended on my 
 judgment in many things." 
 
 "Not in money matters." 
 
 "Sometimes he said that I was the most economical woman 
 he had ever known. Robert, if the court gives you my money, 
 what are you going to do with it?" 
 
 "Keep it till you recover." 
 
 "Do you think I'll recover in an insane asylum?" 
 
 "You'll have rest and care." 
 
 "5 
 
n6 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "Behind iron bars?" 
 
 Robert was silent, brought up against reality. 
 
 They continued to talk, but could not come together in 
 understanding. 
 
 "When I looked at you on the stand," said Mary, "I could 
 hardly believe that you were once our blue-eyed, brown- 
 haired, adored little Bobbie. I kept saying to myself, 'It's all 
 a nightmare.' Your father used to have nightmares, and I 
 would have to waken him. But there's no wakening from 
 this." 
 
 "Four of our friends advised me, and six doctors have testi- 
 fied it would be for the best. What else was I to do? There 
 was no one to take care of you." 
 
 "Since your father died, I've learned to take care of myself." 
 
 "I was doing what I thought was for the best." 
 
 Ten minutes had passed since the jury had gone out— a 
 suspiciously brief time— and now the jury was coming back. 
 Mary watched them, studying each face. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said the judge, "have you arrived at a ver- 
 dict?" 
 
 "We have, Your Honor," said the foreman. 
 
 "Has it been signed by the entire panel?" 
 
 "It has, Your Honor." 
 
 "Please read it." 
 
 The foreman read: 
 
 "State of Illinois, County of Cook, S.S.: We the under- 
 signed, jurors in the case of Mary Lincoln, having heard the 
 evidence adduced, are satisfied that the said Mary Lincoln 
 is insane, and is a fit person to be sent to the state hospital 
 for the insane; that she is a resident of the County of Cook, 
 in the state of Illinois; that her age is fifty-six years; that her 
 disease is of unknown duration; that the cause is unknown; 
 that the disease is not hereditary." 
 
Chapter Ten 117 
 
 The foreman paused, for the next line on the printed form 
 had been crossed out. The words read: "That she is free from 
 vermin, or any infectious disease." 
 
 After a moment's delay, he continued: 
 
 "That she is not subject to epilepsy; that she does not 
 manifest homicidal, or suicidal, tendencies, and that she is 
 not a pauper." 
 
 The foreman again paused, sent a glance at Mrs. Lincoln, 
 then began to read again: 
 
 "Whereupon from the verdict aforesaid, it is considered 
 and adjudged by the court that the said Mary Lincoln be 
 admitted to a state hospital for the insane, and it is further 
 ordered that a summons be issued to the said Mary Lincoln 
 commanding her to appear before this court and show cause, 
 if any, why a conservator should not be appointed to manage 
 and control her estate." 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln," said the judge, when the foreman had 
 finished, "you have heard the verdict. Have you anything to 
 say in your behalf?" 
 
 The broken woman shook her head. 
 
 "Will you please answer aloud for the court records?" 
 
 "I have nothing to say." 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln, it becomes my painful duty to enter your 
 name on the Lunatic Record, County of Cook, page five hun- 
 dred ninety-six, as insane, and this I now, as prescribed by 
 law, do." 
 
 "Is it all over?" asked Mary weakly. 
 
 "There is one more matter, Mrs. Lincoln— the matter of 
 the conservator of your funds." 
 
 "I've saved my funds for my old age, and I do not want 
 to give them up," said Mary in a low voice. 
 
 "You will have to, Mrs. Lincoln, whether you choose to 
 or not," said the judge as kindly as he could. 
 
n8 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "It will be for the best, Mother," said Robert. 
 
 She looked at him as if trying to understand him, and 
 there seemed to be in her mind the question: How can a 
 mother have three sons near and dear to her, and another 
 son a stranger? 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln," said the judge as she hesitated, "you will 
 have to surrender your funds. That is a court order. If you 
 do not, of your own volition, deliver the funds, I shall send 
 for the court matron and have her remove them from your 
 possession." 
 
 She looked from the judge to Robert, and back again, try- 
 ing to decide what to do. "To whom shall I deliver them?" 
 
 "To your son." 
 
 Fresh pain came to her face. Getting up, she went behind 
 a screen, and there began to work at her clothes. In a few 
 moments she returned with a bundle of bonds and securities. 
 Robert waited, expecting to receive them, but she walked 
 past him and handed them to Arnold. 
 
 Robert sat silent; blood came to his face. 
 
 "Cast up the value of the funds," ordered the judge. The 
 sum amounted to fifty-six thousand dollars. "You will, Mr. 
 Lincoln, give your mother a receipt for the amount." 
 
 Mary Lincoln was still in a daze, so fast, so confusedly had 
 it all happened. Now and then she glanced at Robert, then 
 away. 
 
 "We'll take you home," said Robert. "To your hotel," 
 he added hastily. 
 
 Robert and Arnold got into a carriage and drove silently 
 through the streets, arriving finally at the drab hotel. 
 
 "Tomorrow I'll take you to the Bellevue Place Asylum," 
 said Robert. 
 
 "How do you know you can get me in?" asked Mary Lin- 
 coln, still thinking slowly and uncertainly. 
 
Chapter Ten 119 
 
 "It has been arranged." 
 
 "Before the trial?" 
 
 "The man who runs the asylum was in the courtroom and 
 heard all the testimony." 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln began to weep, repeating over and over, "If 
 only Abraham were here!" 
 
 Word from those who had testified had spread, and now 
 the hotel help came to stare at her. She hurried past, her 
 eyes down. 
 
 When the three got to her room, she went to the framed 
 picture and looked at it, her lips moving silently. "What is 
 next?" she asked aloud. 
 
 "I'll come for you tomorrow," said Robert. 
 
 The two men left, and Mary was alone. A few minutes 
 later her spirits were lifted by the entrance of Fern. As Mary 
 told what had happened, Fern wept; at last she left, and now 
 Mary was, indeed, alone. Suppertime came, and she went 
 down to the dining room, but neither Mr. Gage nor Mr. 
 Turner was there, and John, the waiter, had been moved to 
 another table. She ate in the same despondent mood, then 
 left, looking neither to the right nor to the left. 
 
 She remained about half an hour in her room, then got 
 up, put on her hat and went to the drugstore in the hotel 
 building, run by Frank Squier. 
 
 "I'm suffering from neuralgia in my right arm, and I want 
 to get a bottle of laudanum and camphor." 
 
 The druggist knew her and suspected that all was not as 
 it should be. "Can you come back for it?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 She went slowly out. 
 
 The druggist's suspicions, now completely aroused, made 
 him follow her. She went to the Rogers & Smith Drugstore, 
 on the corner of Adams and Clark streets, and asked for fifty 
 
120 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 cents' worth of laudanum. Squier signaled secretly to the 
 druggist, who said, "We're out. But we'll have some next 
 week." 
 
 "I want it tonight." 
 
 Squier suspected that she would not give up her quest, 
 and hurried to the Dale Drugstore, on Clark Street, told Mr. 
 Dale what was happening, then stepped out of sight. 
 
 In a few moments Mrs. Lincoln came in. "I'm suffering 
 from neuralgia in my arm and want an ounce and a half of 
 laudanum and an ounce and a half of camphor, in separate 
 bottles. I'll mix them myself." 
 
 "We do not sell laudanum retail," said Mr. Dale. 
 
 She stood for a moment, trying to think her way through 
 this, then turned and walked out. 
 
 Anticipating her next move, Squier hurried back to his 
 own drugstore, and soon she entered. "Have you got it 
 ready?" 
 
 "I'll have it in a moment," he said, and busied himself 
 behind the partition. "I've mixed them myself." 
 
 She took the bottle with a look of gratefulness, placed it 
 in her little black bag and started to her hotel. When she 
 got to her room, she put on a dressing wrapper, swallowed 
 the contents of the bottle and turned out the gas. 
 
 Nausea overcame her, and she believed the end had come. 
 However, she began to recover and lay waiting for another 
 seizure. 
 
 What she didn't know was that Squier had made up a 
 harmless mixture of burnt sugar, camphor and filtered water. 
 Then he had written on the label: 
 
 LAUDANUM & CAMPHOR 
 POISON 
 
Chapter Ten 121 
 
 The seizure did not come. She dressed and went back to 
 Squier. She told him the pain had become unbearable and 
 that she must have another bottle. He said that the laudanum 
 had been taken to the basement and locked up for the night. 
 A look of defeat came into her face, and, turning, she walked 
 slowly out. 
 
 In the meantime Squier had told Turner, the manager 
 of the hotel, what was happening, and Turner had sent a 
 messenger to Robert Todd Lincoln, who soon arrived. When 
 she saw him, she began to weep. 
 
 The night passed. 
 
 The next morning, preparations were begun for Robert 
 to take her to Batavia, a distance of thirty-five miles. Fern 
 helped. Mary talked to her more freely than she did to 
 Robert. Now and then, she glanced at Robert. 
 
 Robert was appalled when he found that his mother had 
 six trunks and that she wanted them with her. "Why do you 
 want to take them?" he asked. 
 
 "I want to have them," was all she could say. 
 
 "What's in them?" 
 
 "Things I've bought." 
 
 The work of packing was completed. The trunks were 
 roped and marked for delivery, and Robert and his mother 
 went to the railroad station, and soon were on the train, 
 where she took a seat by herself. 
 
 The man from the asylum, who had been at the trial, met 
 them at the depot with a carriage and driver. He was the 
 owner of the asylum, and his name was Richard J. Patterson. 
 He was licensed to practice as a doctor, but in reality was a 
 businessman. He had been medical superintendent of the 
 Indiana State Hospital for the Insane, and of the Iowa In- 
 sane Asylum. Now he had come to Illinois. 
 
 It was a pleasant drive through the attractive little town; 
 
122 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 they came to the grounds at the head of Union Avenue. The 
 carriage continued to roll through long, sweeping, tree-lined 
 driveways until it arrived at a grim, three-story building 
 arranged to house thirty inmates. 
 
 "Is this it?" asked Mary. 
 
 Dr. Patterson said it was. 
 
 He prettily called the asylum "Bellevue Retreat." 
 
 Mary was taken to her room on the second floor. The 
 windows were barred; the door was to be locked at night. 
 Adjoining was the room of an attendant who was to keep 
 the key to Mary's room. 
 
 Time came for Robert to leave, but he delayed; to tell his 
 mother good-by was more difficult than he had expected. 
 
 Word had spread through the building that Mary was 
 there, and the inmates crowded about. 
 
 "They want to see a lunatic," she said. 
 
 So deep was her humiliation that she kept out of sight as 
 much as she could. She had her meals brought to her room, 
 where she ate alone. But she did not keep a light burning at 
 night, for a little of her self-confidence had returned. 
 
 Her trunks arrived; this seemed to give her self-assurance. 
 She had no space for them, so they were taken to a storage 
 room. This was satisfactory, for she knew where they were, 
 and they could be part of her life— something left to cling to. 
 
 In time her sensitiveness began to wear off. She went to 
 the general dining room, but took a seat away from the others. 
 
 She walked through the pleasant grounds. This became 
 monotonous, and she began to ride in the asylum's carriage 
 along with the other inmates. An attendant, however, was 
 always with her. The two established a basis of friendly 
 understanding. This grew, and finally Mary and the attend- 
 ant drove to Aurora, where Mary, the old urge returning, 
 bought needless things. 
 
Chapter Ten 123 
 
 Two weeks passed; then word was brought that Robert 
 was there. She said for him to come to her room, and hastily 
 arranged her shabby dress. In a few moments he was at the 
 door— tall and slender and bearded. 
 
 "How are you, Mother?" 
 
 "Where is little Mary?" 
 
 Robert said unhappily, "It was decided not to bring her." 
 
 The two talked, ill at ease in each other's presence. They 
 walked about the grounds, but the conversation lagged. 
 Finally he left, and she returned to her barred room. 
 
 The other inmates tried to talk to her, but she would have 
 nothing to do with them. This was not because she believed 
 herself to be superior, but because she was sensitive and felt 
 the humiliation of having once been important and now 
 under lock and key. 
 
 She determined to get out of the asylum, and started to 
 write letters, at first to old friends, then to important men 
 and women who might be of help. Her letters were well 
 written and recounted the shameful way she had been forced 
 into the asylum. She said that her son had been the cause, 
 and declared that he had done this act from improper mo- 
 tives. This wasn't true, for Robert had acted for the best, 
 as he saw it. Nearly always, in her letters, she said that her 
 money had been taken from her and that she was destitute. 
 The latter was not true either, for Robert gave her money, 
 which she spent without reserve, then worried because it was 
 gone. She bought dolls and put them in her trunks. She said 
 they were for little Mary. 
 
 She began to talk with the other inmates, mostly about 
 "my three sons." 
 
 She continued to write letters. She had a gift for it, and 
 she made the most of it. 
 
 Word spread that Robert had put his mother in the insane 
 
124 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 asylum to get her money. This affected his sensitive nature, 
 and he grew non-communicative. 
 
 He tried to hide the true situation between him and his 
 mother by writing letters in which he said that he and his 
 mother were on excellent terms and that she did not seem 
 to realize where she was. She realized all too well and deter- 
 mined more firmly than ever to get out. 
 
 Among the people she wrote to were Judge and Mrs. James 
 B. Bradwell, whom she had known for some years. She re- 
 counted what had happened and wrote so emotionally of her 
 present condition that they decided to come to see their old 
 friend. And there, in that barred room on the second floor, 
 they found her with a candle burning against the dark. She 
 told in detail what had happened at the unsavory trial. They 
 drew her onto other subjects. She spoke well; her mind was 
 clear; her judgment, good. They were surprised by how 
 much she knew about politics and national affairs. 
 
 The Bradwells became convinced that she was normal, 
 except on two or three topics. They discussed international 
 affairs and found she had a fairly good concept of such tangled 
 matters. But the moment she got on the shooting of Abra- 
 ham, the perfidy of her son, the need of having possessions 
 around her, she was a mentally disturbed person. 
 
 The trial had attracted national attention, but that sharp 
 emotional interest had passed, and people were now asking 
 whether the trial had been fair. She was eccentric, but was 
 she so badly twisted that she should be behind bars? After 
 all, in the White House, she had met the world's command- 
 ing figures and had been received as a forthright woman. 
 
 Judge Bradwell became her spokesman and helped present 
 her case. Ministers, took up the matter and preached sermons 
 about how she was being treated. Newspapers mentioned her 
 incarceration and commented on the quick way she had been 
 
Chapter Ten 125 
 
 rushed into an institution. Criticism began to rise like a tide. 
 So much attention was being directed upon her that Dr. 
 Patterson wrote a defensive letter and had it published in 
 the papers. She was improving "under care," he said; she 
 had many "privileges"; among them, he cited, she could ride 
 in the asylum carriage; and she could eat with the family, 
 if she wished. She did not wish. 
 
 Judge Bradwell called on Dr. Patterson, who by this time 
 was quite willing to have her out of his establishment, and 
 persuaded him not to oppose her release from his Retreat. 
 The person who was most active in this attempt at removal 
 was Ninian W. Edwards, the husband of Mary's sister Eliza- 
 beth. Both he and Elizabeth had opposed Mary's marriage 
 to Lincoln. The Edwardses were aristocrats; Abe Lincoln was 
 a gangling creature who wanted to be a lawyer. That unfair 
 point of view had passed. Mary loved her grotesque-looking 
 husband. He had made an excellent President and had, as 
 Mary said, given up his life for his country as truly as a 
 soldier on the battlefield. And now Ninian W. Edwards threw 
 his influence into the matter of getting Mary "released in 
 custody." Robert approved of this, for he was growing more 
 and more uncomfortable about his mother's detention in 
 the asylum. 
 
 When Ninian brought her the good news, she sat for some 
 moments without speaking. "Did Robert do this for me?" 
 
 "He helped." 
 
 Her face lighted up. 
 
 She went among the other inmates, telling them she was 
 going to leave and giving them presents of the things she 
 had bought. 
 
 Robert came to accompany her on the train. Her feeling 
 of appreciation for the help she believed he had given, had 
 cooled. Her deep-down resentment had returned. 
 
126 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "It's about time," she said harshly. "How is little Mary?" 
 
 "She asks about you." 
 
 "Does she understand where I am?" 
 
 "No." The packing-up was going forward. Robert gazed 
 at the collection of trunks that had been brought from the 
 storeroom, ten now in all. "Why do you want to take them 
 with you?" 
 
 "I want to have them near me," said his mother. 
 
 The asylum carriage pulled up. The inmates came to 
 watch. 
 
 "Good-by," she called with a tender note in her voice, and 
 got into the carriage. 
 
 When they got on the train, the two took seats together. 
 
 At last the train arrived in Springfield. She looked eagerly 
 out the window. Home at last! Home where she had spent 
 her happiest days . . . The very streets she had walked with 
 Abraham . . . 
 
 Ninian and Elizabeth were there to meet them, and now, 
 as Mary put her arms around her sister, she sobbed openly. 
 
 There was a stiffness between Robert and the Edwardses, 
 but the thing was to get Mary to her new home and to try 
 to make her happy. It was not long before Mary was in an- 
 other room on another floor, no bars now, only love and 
 kindness. Robert found that he must hurry back to Chicago, 
 and, that evening, he left. 
 
 A lighter spirit moved through her. She was with her now- 
 beloved sister, but she was also under supervision of the 
 court and was still a "lunatic." She was tremendously sensi- 
 tive about this— she who had once been the nation's first lady. 
 The townspeople came to stare at the house and at her 
 window. The room, said the people, contained a madwoman. 
 
 The first curiosity of the townspeople passed. Mary began 
 to adjust to this new life. And as she did so, she again felt 
 
Chapter Ten 127 
 
 bitter toward Robert. After all, he had decided she should 
 be brought to court. She wrote an exceedingly harsh letter. 
 "Robert T. Lincoln," she began in the formal way she some- 
 times opened a letter, "I want my possessions returned. I am 
 now in constant receipt of letters from my friends denounc- 
 ing you in the bitterest terms. Six letters from prominent, 
 respectable Chicago people such as you do not associate with. 
 Two clergymen have offered up public prayer for me. Trust 
 not to the belief that Mrs. Edwards' tongue has not been 
 rancorous against you and she has maintained to the very 
 last that you dared venture into her house and our pres- 
 ence . . . Send all that I have written for, you have tried your 
 game of robbery long enough." 
 
 Meanwhile, Robert continued to give out that he and his 
 mother were on good terms. 
 
 She continued to write him, demanding that he return her 
 money. But he could not do this, for she was legally insane, 
 and he was under court orders. He tried to put on a bold 
 face to the world. His mother was recovering, he said. 
 
 There in that room on the second floor, lit by candles, the 
 little lady continued to write to all who might be able to 
 help her. These letters went to everybody— friends, court 
 officials, even to people she had never met. No mental aberra- 
 tion showed. In addition, the powerful Ninian W. Edwards 
 moved in her favor. 
 
 The protest grew louder. Newspapers took it up. And now, 
 with this backing, Ninian Edwards went to Chicago to see 
 Robert Lincoln and proposed that there be some kind of 
 legal action. Robert Lincoln was glad, indeed, that some 
 step might be taken to quiet the demands. 
 
 Ninian came home with good news. "Mrs. Lincoln," he 
 said, "we think it is best to have another trial. This can be 
 arranged, and I think you can be set free." 
 
i 2 8 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 Her face lighted up, then fell away. "I could not go through 
 it again." 
 
 Ninian Edwards again visited Robert, and the matter was 
 gone into once more. They could have a trial without Mrs. 
 Lincoln's being present, it was decided. After all, she was still 
 legally insane. The wheels started to move. Swett was con- 
 sulted. He would not protest; indeed he would approve of 
 the trial, he declared. He would be glad to do this in the 
 memory of his long-time friend Abe Lincoln. 
 
 Judge Wallace was consulted. Why, yes, Mary Lincoln 
 should have another trial; he would be glad to preside. After 
 all, the nation owed something to the widow of such a great 
 President. 
 
Chapter 11 
 
 \JN the morning of July 15, 1876, the Second Trial 
 for Mary Todd Lincoln took place, in Chicago, in the same 
 room, with the same judge, but there was one startling 
 change. There was no Isaac N. Arnold to defend her. The 
 defender now was Leonard T. Swett. 
 
 A jury was scrabbled together, with Dr. R. M. Paddock 
 as the medical juryman, as was demanded by Illinois law. 
 Present in the courtroom was another doctor, Dr. T. W. 
 Dresser, son of the man who had married Mary and Abraham 
 Lincoln. He was a stand-by doctor and was not called on 
 the jury. The names of the jurors were: D. J. Weatherhead, 
 S. F. Knowles, Cyrus Gleason, W. I. Heron, D. Kimball, 
 R. F. Wild, William G. Lyon, C. H. Chapin, W. Dahl, 
 W. S. Dunham, William Roberts. 
 
 The petition presented to the court was as follows: 
 
 State of Illinois, Cook County— in the County Court- 
 to the June term, a.d. 1876— to the Honorable M. R. M. 
 Wallace, judge of the County Court, of the County of 
 Cook, State of Illinois . . . 
 
 Your petitioner, Mary Lincoln, respectfully represents 
 
 129 
 
130 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 unto Your Honor that on the 14th day of June, at the 
 June term of court, in and for said County, that Robert 
 Lincoln, whom your petitioner prays may be made de- 
 fendant to the petition, was appointed under the provi- 
 sions of Chapter 86 of the revised statutes of the said 
 State, now in force, her conservator. Your petitioner 
 showeth to Your Honor that she is a proper person to 
 have the care and management of her own estate. Your 
 petitioner, therefore, prays that the said conservator be 
 removed and that Your Honor may enter an order fully 
 restoring her to all rights and privileges enjoyed by her 
 before said conservator was appointed and that her said 
 conservator may be required to return to her all the 
 money, estate, title, pension papers, United States bonds, 
 leases, with which he is chargeable as her conservator. 
 
 Mary Lincoln. 
 
 Ninian W. Edwards was the first witness and testified as 
 follows: 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln has been with me nine or ten months, and 
 her friends all think she is a proper person to take charge of 
 her own affairs. She has not spent all she was allowed to spend 
 during the last year, and we all think she is in a condition to 
 take charge of her own affairs." 
 
 He was quoting what other people said, which, at the first 
 trial, would have caused shouts, but now was all right. Any- 
 thing this fine morning was all right. 
 
 The case was given to the jury, and the jury clumped out 
 as it had before. In no time at all it was back with a filled-in 
 blank, signed by the jurors: 
 
 "State of Illinois, Cook County, County Court. We, the 
 undersigned jurors in the case wherein Mary Lincoln, who 
 

 
 
 i*sr*~ 
 
 £&****—> 
 
132 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 was found to be insane and who, now, is alleged to be re- 
 stored to reason, having heard the evidence in said case, do 
 find her capable to manage and control her estate." 
 
 The selection of the jurors took more time than the trying 
 of the case. And now Mary was no longer a "lunatic." 
 
 Robert Todd Lincoln filed a scrupulously honest report, 
 along with the inventory of his mother's property. There are 
 five legal-size pages,* giving in detail the various expendi- 
 tures. One item of special interest is that he paid the detec- 
 tives $151, plus $64 for board at the hotel out of his mother's 
 money. 
 
 Another item of interest is the amount of money that he 
 paid out for his mother's trunks. Here is a listing: 
 
 May 2p. Paid storage on three trunks at Safe Depository 
 
 3-30 
 May 29. Paid American Express Co. bringing trunks 
 
 from Milwaukee 17.00 
 June 8. Paid trunk from Hotel to Safe Depository 1.00 
 June 22. Paid for express charges and storage on trunk 
 
 from Batavia 2.40 
 Sept. 16. Paid express charges on trunk from Springfield 
 
 1.15 
 Sept. 16. Paid express charges on two trunks from Batavia 
 
 2.25 
 Oct. 1. Paid Fidelity Safety Depository for storage on 
 
 trunks 50.00 
 
 Robert had gone from doctor to doctor getting advice. He 
 seems to have had doubts of what he had done to his mother. 
 
 * See Appendix. 
 
Chapter Eleven *33 
 
 The doctors did not go to see his mother, for she was in 
 Batavia. Seemingly he went to the medical men to talk with 
 them about his mother. The papers he submitted to the court 
 show the following: 
 
 June 2. Paid Dr. H. A. Johnson for professional service 
 
 in consultation 15.00 
 July 7. Paid Dr. N. S. Davis for professional services in 
 
 consultation 50.00 
 July 13. Paid Dr. R. N. Isham for professional services 
 
 in consulation 50.00 
 July 23. Paid Dr. J. S. Jewell for professional services in 
 
 consultation 15.00 
 July 24. Paid Dr. C. G. Smith for professional services 
 
 in consultation 15.00 
 
 One doctor, however, did go to see Mrs. Lincoln, for the 
 record shows: 
 
 Sept. 8. Paid Dr. A. McFarland for professional services 
 and expenses in going from Jacksonville, Illinois, to 
 Batavia 100.00 
 
 A great deal of money was paid to Ninian W. Edwards for 
 the care of Mrs. Lincoln. From September 13, 1875, to June 
 7, 1876, the amount was $4,599.28. 
 
 Strange items appear. One would seem to indicate that 
 Mrs. Lincoln had a music box to entertain her, for on No- 
 vember 18, 1875, this item appears: 
 
 Paid Matson account repairing Musical Box 6.00 
 
134 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 And this: 
 
 September 9, 1875- Paid several telegrams in arranging 
 
 for visit to Springfield 1.92 
 September 10 & 11. Paid expenses of Mrs. Lincoln and 
 
 myself going to Springfield and my return 36.30 
 
 When Ninian returned to Springfield, Mary asked eagerly 
 what had happened at the trial, and he told her. 
 
 'Tm glad I didn't have to go through it," she said. "When 
 do I get my money back?" 
 
 "Right away. The court order has gone through." 
 
 Her spirits rose. Maybe, now, she could make up with 
 Robert. After all, he had been her Bobbie. She could never 
 forget that. 
 
 "I want to see him," she said, more tenderly than she had 
 yet spoken of him. "Ask him to come to see me." 
 
 He did come, but after the first glow she retreated into her 
 old attitude, and again the two tried to understand each other. 
 
 She again walked the streets of Springfield, but people 
 stared at her. "I cannot endure to meet my former friends," 
 she said. "They will never cease to regard me as a lunatic. I 
 feel it in their soothing manner. If I should say the moon is 
 made of green cheese, they would heartily and smilingly agree 
 with me." 
 
 Even when some of her old friends seemed genuinely de- 
 lighted to see her, she still felt they were merely being kind. 
 She wanted to go where no one would know of her stigma, 
 and so she decided to go to France, where she could speak 
 the language. She had been managing her own financial af- 
 fairs, but she must have somebody at home to look after them. 
 She chose Jacob Bunn, of Springfield, and now, as soon as she 
 could arrange it, sailed for Pau, where she moved into a small 
 
Chapter Eleven *35 
 
 pension. She did not reveal her identity. She improved and 
 became more spirited. Many of the people who talked to her, 
 without knowing who she was, were impressed by her quick 
 mind and her wide range of political information. They felt 
 she had been a person of importance, but what this was they 
 did not know. Nor did she reveal her secret. 
 
 She liked to travel from one town to another; she went to 
 Germany; she moved here and there; but her religion was so 
 strong within her that she would not travel on Sunday. Her 
 great letter-writing urge returned to her, and she sent off 
 many letters, but none to Robert. She wrote ninety to Bunn, 
 asking intelligent questions and offering suggestions as to 
 the handling of her affairs. Not one letter showed any mental 
 cloudiness. 
 
 The months passed. 
 
 Always she came back to Pau. But bad luck put its cold 
 hand on her. She mounted a stepladder to hang a picture. 
 Suddenly she toppled and fell. She had difficulty getting up; 
 a pain persisted. A French doctor was brought, who said she 
 had injured her spine. This proved to be true. A slow, dull 
 pain came and stayed with her. 
 
 She still traveled; she still went about; she still returned 
 to Pau, where she felt secure. She grew more lonely and 
 thought of home. She had days of spending, and she had days 
 of pinching. And she had days of wanting to have somebody 
 to protect her. Could Robert do that? . . . 
 
 She liked to read American papers, but there were few of 
 them. One day she got from the newsstand a weekly published 
 in Paris, the American Register. Suddenly she lighted up. 
 There was an article advocating the nomination of Robert 
 Todd Lincoln for President. She was delighted. A Lincoln 
 again in the White House! If elected, she could help him as 
 she had Abraham. 
 
136 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 Because she had become homesick and wanted to see the 
 friends she had run away from, she decided to return. After 
 four years abroad, she sailed October 16, 1880, on the French 
 Line steamer L'Amerique. She had not told Robert she was 
 coming. On the ship was the French actress Sarah Bernhardt, 
 just then the rage. Mrs. Lincoln was at the head of a com- 
 panionway and started to topple down it, but Bernhardt's 
 hand shot out, caught her and steadied her. 
 
 "You should be careful, madame," said the helpful Sarah. 
 "You might have been killed." 
 
 "It was not God's will," said Mrs. Lincoln. 
 
 When the ship arrived in New York, there was a crowd to 
 meet it. People were shouting the name of Sarah Bernhardt. 
 It was an exciting welcome to the popular Sarah. Mrs. Lin- 
 coln went down the gangplank unnoticed. 
 
 Her grandnephew met her— "Lewis" Baker. His full name 
 was Edward Lewis Baker, Junior, but he was called Lewis. 
 He was seventeen years old, a fine young man, indeed a per- 
 fect young man, in her eyes. He took her back to Springfield 
 to the Edwardses. 
 
 "Now I'm home," she said, and wept openly. 
 
 She was soon in her room on the second floor. The trip had 
 been hard, she said. 
 
 Robert heard she was there and came to visit her, bringing 
 with him something that would melt his mother's heart- 
 little Mary. And now, as Mary Lincoln rejoiced and wept 
 with Robert, she promised to forgive and forget. But the 
 promise was too quickly made. That same day, Robert took 
 the child and went away, now to Washington, where he was 
 in politics. But he did not take understanding with him. A 
 short time afterward he wrote, "She thinks she is ill. My own 
 judgment is that some part of her trouble is imaginary." 
 
 She began to complain, saying that she didn't feel well. 
 
Chapter Eleven 137 
 
 She had diabetes, but didn't know it. She was subject to boils, 
 was losing weight and had what she called "continual run- 
 ning waters" and "bloating." She hesitated to go to a doctor, 
 for again the obsession of poverty came over her. After per- 
 suasion from her sister, Mary picked up and went to New 
 York to take "treatments." She took what were called "medi- 
 cal baths" at a health emporium on West 26th Street; she 
 lived nearby alone in a small furnished room and went out 
 to the restaurants in the neighborhood for her meals. Her 
 step was growing slower, and her eyes, weaker, but a reporter 
 who came to see her found no weakness of mind. 
 
 Her financial worry was unexpectedly taken care of in 
 January, 1882, when Congress raised her pension from three 
 thousand dollars a year to five. In addition, it voted her a gift 
 of fifteen thousand dollars. She accepted it gratefully, but not 
 delightedly. She returned to Springfield and to her old room. 
 She asked that the curtains be drawn. She sat in an invalid's 
 chair, a small, wasted, wan figure, her face no longer plump, 
 and her hair gray. She talked about the past and referred to 
 Abraham. The shadows in her mind deepened. She had more 
 interest in those who had "gone ahead." 
 
 In July she said, "I want to walk across the floor and look 
 out the window." She was helped, and she peered dimly out. 
 It was her last trip. That evening she became paralyzed and 
 could speak only with the greatest difficulty. She passed into 
 unconsciousness and died at sunset Sunday evening, July 16, 
 1882, at the age of sixty-four. 
 
 Two days later her coffin was wheeled into the parlor, the 
 very room where she and Abraham had been married. 
 
 The funeral was held in the First Presbyterian Church, 
 where she and Lincoln had had their pew. Among those pres- 
 ent was James C. Conkling, who once had described Mary as 
 
138 THE TRIAL OF MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 ''the very creature of excitement." She was buried in Oak 
 Ridge Cemetery, in Springfield. 
 
 Life had to be readjusted in the Edwards home. One of 
 the problems was the trunks in the storeroom; they were so 
 heavy that the floor had sunk. When they were opened, pur- 
 chases were found in their original wrapping paper. The 
 clothes, curtains, silks and brocades were given to members 
 of the family and to friends, finally to disappear. 
 
 Robert todd Lincoln became even more aloof and unap- 
 proachable. His political hopes were still part of his life, but 
 after the trial the leaders in the Republican party agreed that 
 it would mean defeat to try to nominate him, and so he was 
 dropped. But he did become U. S. Secretary of War under 
 Garfield, and U. S. Minister to England under President Har- 
 rison. His chief concern, however, was with corporate inter- 
 ests, and he became president of the Pullman Company. It 
 was pointed out that Abraham Lincoln loved the common 
 people, but that his son loved big business. As he grew older, 
 he became even more unapproachable and unbending. He 
 moved to Manchester, New Hampshire, where he saw only a 
 few people. He played golf with elderly friends, talked poli- 
 tics, but never mentioned his mother. He died in 1926, at the 
 age of eighty-three. In his will he left a great stack of Lincoln 
 papers, which was not to be opened until twenty-five years 
 after his death. When this was done there proved to be 18,000 
 items— not one mentioned the trial. 
 
 lyman j. gage rose in the world until he became Secretary 
 of the Treasury under McKinley and Theodore Roosevelt. 
 He lived to a hearty old age— until he was almost ninety-one 
 —and died at Point Loma, California, in 1927. He never let 
 it be known that he had served on the jury. When he died, 
 
Chapter Eleven 139 
 
 the Chicago Tribune ran a full column giving the details of 
 his life, but so successfully had he hidden this part that the 
 paper did not mention his having been on the jury. 
 
 Leonard t. swett died June 9, 1889, seven years after Mrs. 
 Lincoln's death. The Chicago Tribune paid him the compli- 
 ment of running a column-length editorial praising him as a 
 fine and useful citizen of Chicago. It neglected to mention 
 that he had helped send Mary Lincoln to an insane asylum. 
 
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Index 
 
 Adams, J. McGregor, 54 
 
 Allen, Mrs. (housekeeper), 87 
 
 Allen & Mackey, 12 
 
 Angle, Paul M., v 
 
 Arnold, Isaac N. (Mrs. Lin- 
 coln's lawyer), 45, 49, 50, 52, 
 53> 54> 5 6 > 5 8 > 6o > 8 3 
 
 Baker, "Lewis," 136 
 Barton, Bruce, v 
 Bellevue Place Asylum, 1 18 
 Bernhardt, Sarah, 136 
 Bixby, Mrs. (of the famous let- 
 ter), 104, 105 
 Blake, Dr. S. C, 54 
 Bradwell, Judge James B., 124, 
 
 125 
 Bunn, Jacob, 134 
 Burial, 138 
 
 Cameron, D. R., 55 
 Charles Gossage & Co., 12 
 Chicago Homeopathic College, 
 
 65 
 
 Chicago Medical College, 58, 
 
 72 
 
 Clifton House, 8 
 Cockeyed Bob, 51 
 Cogswell, Thomas, 55 
 Conkling, James G, si. 
 Cook County Court, 
 
 116, 117, 130 
 Cummings, E. A., 55 
 
 *37 
 35> 52, 
 
 Dale Drugstore, 120 
 Danforth, Dr. Willis, 65, 69 
 Davis, Judge David, 19, 20, 21, 
 
 41,42,44,47,93 
 Davis, Dr. Nathan S., 72, 73 
 Dodge, Charles, 87 
 Dolls, 3, 102, 123 
 Douglas, Stephen A., 7 
 Durand, Henry G, 55 
 
 Edwards, Ninian W., 125, 127, 
 128, 130, 134 
 
 Farwell, Charles B., 55 
 Fern, 25, 26, 27, 28, 119, 121 
 Fitzhenry, John (waiter at the 
 Grand Pacific Hotel), 82 
 
 147 
 
148 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Gage, Lyman J., 54, 65, 74, 77, 
 
 138 
 Gavin, Maggie, 74ft. 
 Globe Tavern, 48 
 Grand Pacific Hotel, 7, 8, 21, 
 
 66, 74, 82, 90 
 Grant, General Ulysses S., 13, 
 
 33> 34> 47> 77> 7 8 > 8o > 86 
 
 Hay, John, 105 
 Harlan, Senator James, 5 
 Harris, Clara, 26 
 Harvard, 1 1 1 
 
 Henderson, Charles M., 55 
 Herndon, William H., 34, 106, 
 107, 108 
 
 Isham, Dr. Ralph N., 6, 24, 47, 
 
 b l >b§> 57» 59>6o, 90 
 Isham & Lincoln, 59, 90, 93 
 Ivory fan, 99 
 
 Johnson, Dr. Hosmer A., 88 
 Jurymen (for second trial), 129 
 
 Lee, General Robert E., 80 
 Lincoln, Mary (granddaugh- 
 ter), 7, 11, 22, 126 
 Lincoln, Thomas ("Tad"), 79 
 Lunatic Record, 117, 132 
 
 "Madhouses" of America, 60 
 Mason, James A., 54 
 Matlock, T. C, 88 
 Moore, Silas M., 55 
 Moulton, E. G., 87 
 Mourning brooch, 46, 99 
 
 Paddock, Dr. R. M., 129 
 Patterson, Dr. Richard J., 121, 
 
 122, 125 
 Pau (France), 134, 135 
 Pension (raised by Congress), 
 
 137 
 Physicians conspire, 8 1 
 Pinkerton detectives, 94 
 Poison in coffee, 11, 16, 39, 64, 
 
 %95> 1J 3 
 
 Randall, Ruth Painter, vi 
 Rogers & Smith Drugstore, 119 
 Rutledge, Ann, 34, 106, 107 
 
 Seaton, 87 
 
 Smith, Dr. Charles Gilman, 79 
 
 Squier, Frank, 119, 120, 121 
 
 Stewart, William, 55 
 
 Stone, J. B., salesman, 70 
 
 Stuart, John Todd, 15, 17, 47, 
 
 93 
 Swett, Leonard T., 30, passim 
 
 Tarbell, Ida M., v 
 Townsend, J. S., 87 
 Turner, Samuel M., 18, 27, 61, 
 62, 63, 64 
 
 Wallace, Judge Marion R. M., 
 40, 52, 54, 60, 67, 96, 103, 
 107, 110, 111, 128 
 
 Wandering Jew, 66, 101 
 
 Ward, Artemus, 86 
 
 White House, 9, 18, 22, 32, 69, 
 77,95, 100, 101, 109, 113 
 
 Whitney, Henry C, 20, 30 
 
 Wooster, Willie, 85, 86, 87, 112 
 
"W^mlMMB 
 
 wmm^m^MmBmm^:i 
 
 WtMM ■y^' : '-[^M<'r'^ 
 
,"-> 
 
 HOMER CROY was born on a farm near 
 Maryville, Missouri, to parents who had 
 been covered-wagon pioneers. He attended 
 the Maryville High School and began writ- 
 ing at the age of sixteen for farm news- 
 papers. While still in high school, he sold 
 his first stories to eastern magazines. 
 
 Following his marriage, Mr. Croy trav- 
 eled and lived in France, out of which grew 
 his novel They Had to See Paris, which 
 became Will Rogers' first movie and the 
 beginning of a long, close friendship be- 
 tween the two men. Mr. Croy later adapted 
 this same novel for the stage, where it 
 became Hello, Paris! 
 
 His other books include Jesse James Was 
 My Neighbor, He Hanged Them High, 
 The Lady from Colorado, Starmaker: 
 The Story of D. W. Griffith, and his best- 
 selling autobiography, Country Cured. 
 
Mrs. Lincoln at about the 
 time of her trial. Courtesy of 
 The New-York Historical So- 
 ciety, New York City 
 
 'O^cN*' 
 
 V, 
 
 
 V =it= ^" V: %H 
 
 Order for the arrest of Mrs. 
 Abraham Lincoln. From the 
 collection of Henry Horner 
 
 f 
 
 Robert Todd Lincoln shortly 
 after the trial. Courtesy of 
 The New-York Historical So- 
 ciety, New York City