Mary Todd,
the daughter of Eliza Parker and Robert Smith Todd, was born in Lexington,
Kentucky on 13th December, 1818. Her father was a wealthy banker and
lawyer who was an active member of the Whig
Party. Her mother died when Mary was six and she did not get on
with her stepmother.
In 1839 Mary went to live with her sister in Springfield, Illinois.
While there she met Abraham Lincoln.
Despite objections from her family, the couple were married in November,
1842. The couple had four sons: Robert Lincoln
(1843-1926), Edward Lincoln (1846-50),
William Lincoln (1850-62) and Thomas
Lincoln (1853-1871). Three of the boys died young and only Robert
lived long enough to marry and have children.
When Abraham Lincoln went to Washington
to take his seat in the House of Representatives in 1847, Mary and
the children went along. Lincoln felt that Mary "hindered me
some in attending to business" and the following year the rest
of the family returned to Springfield.
The death of Edward Lincoln on 1st February,
1850, caused Mary to have a spiritual crisis. She ceased attending
Episcopal services and became a member of the Presbyterian Church.
Mary did not share her husbands progressive political views but supported
him in his campaign to become president. After his victory in 1860
Mary joined him in Washington. Uncomfortable
in her new surroundings, she tended to over-compensate by spending
large sums of money on clothes. This resulted in her building up enormous
debts.
William Lincoln died in 1862. Devastated
by the loss of her second son, Mary became interested in spiritualism.
Friends became concerned about her mental health when she began to
claim that William's spirit came to visit her at night.
During the American Civil War Mary came
under the influence of Charles Sumner.
She now became an ardent abolitionist and became more radical on this
issue than her husband. Her seamstress and former slave, Elizabeth
Keckley, also helped to change her views on slavery.
Mary was with her husband at the Ford Theatre when he was murdered
by John Wilkes Booth on 14th April, 1865.
This event had a detrimental impact on her mental state and she suffered
frequent bouts of deep depression.
The situation became worse in 1867 when William
Herndon wrote a book claiming that Lincoln had told him that Ann
Rutledge, and not Mary, had been the love of his life. She responded
by commenting: "This is the return for all my husband's kindness
to this miserable man! Out of pity he took him into his office, when
he was almost a hopeless inebriate and he was only a drudge, in the
place."
Deeply upset by Herndon's revelation, Mary and her young son, Thomas
Lincoln, moved to Germany. However, the poor health of her son
forced her to return to the United States. Soon afterwards, Thomas
died of tuberculosis.
Mary continue to worry unnecessarily about money. Charles
Sumner had persuaded Congress to grant her a $3000 a year pension.
She also had received a large percentage of her husband's estate.
However, her conviction that she was poor, resulting in strange and
irrational behaviour. This included selling her clothes and writing
letters begging money from prominent politicians. In 1875 her only
surviving son, Robert Lincoln, arranged
for a sanity hearing. The court judged her insane and she was committed
to a sanatorium in Batavia, Illinois.
On 15th June, 1876, a second trial judged Mary sane and she went to
live with her sister in Springfield. Her health continued to deteriorate
and she refused to leave her bedroom. Mary Todd Lincoln died on 16th
July, 1882.
(1)
Elizabeth
Keckley, Thirty Years a Slave (1868)
At
11 o'clock at night I was awakened by an old friend and neighbor,
Miss M. Brown, with the startling intelligence that the entire Cabinet
had been assassinated, and Mr. Lincoln shot, but not mortally wounded.
When I heard the words I felt
as if the blood had been frozen in my veins, and that my lungs must
collapse for the want of air.
Mr. Lincoln shot! the Cabinet assassinated!
I waked Mr. and Mrs. Lewis, and told them that the President was shot,
and that I must go to the White House. We walked rapidly towards the
White House, and on our way passed the residence of Secretary Seward,
which was surrounded by armed soldiers, keeping back all intruders
with the point of the bayonet.
We learned that the President was mortally wounded--that he had been
shot down in his box at the theatre, and that he was not expected
to live till morning; when we returned home with heavy hearts. I could
not sleep. I wanted to go to Mrs. Lincoln, as I pictured her wild
with grief; but then I did not know where to find her, and I must
wait till morning. Never did the hours drag so slowly. Every moment
seemed an age, and I could do nothing but walk about and hold my arms
in mental agony.
Morning came at last, and a sad morning was it. The flags that floated
so gaily yesterday now were draped in black, and hung in silent folds
at half-mast. The President was dead, and a nation was
mourning for him. Every house was draped in black, and every face
wore a solemn look. People spoke in subdued tones, and glided whisperingly,
wonderingly, silently about the streets.
The last time I saw him he spoke kindly to me, but alas! the lips
would never move again. The light had faded from his eyes, and when
the light went out the soul went with it. What a noble soul was his--noble
in all the noble attributes of God! Never did I enter the solemn chamber
of death with such palpitating heart and trembling footsteps as I
entered it that day. No common mortal had died. The Moses of my people
had fallen in the hour of his triumph. Fame had woven her choicest
chaplet for his brow. Though the brow was cold and pale in death,
the chaplet should not fade, for God had studded it with the glory
of the eternal stars.
When I entered the room, the members of the Cabinet and many distinguished
officers of the army were grouped around the body of their fallen
chief. They made room for me, and, approaching the body, I lifted
the white cloth from the white face of the man that I had worshipped
as an idol--looked upon as a demi-god. Not-withstanding the violence
of the death of the President, there was something beautiful as well
as grandly solemn in the expression of the placid face. There lurked
the sweetness and gentleness of childhood, and the stately grandeur
of godlike intellect. I gazed long at the face, and turned away with
tears in my eyes and a choking sensation in my throat. Ah! never was
man so widely mourned before. The whole world bowed their heads in
grief when Abraham Lincoln died.
(2)
Mary Todd Lincoln, letter to Sally Orme about her belief that Andrew
Johnson was involved in her husband's death (15th March, 1866)
That, that miserable inebriate Johnson,
had cognizance of my husband's death. Why, was that card of Booth's,
found in his box, some acquaintance certainly existed. I have been
deeply impressed, with the harrowing thought, that he, had an understanding
with the conspirators & they knew their man. As sure, as you &
I live, Johnson, had some hand, in all this.
(3)
In her autobiography, Thirty
Years a Slave,
Elizabeth
Keckley described an encounter between Mary Lincoln and John
Parker, the man who should have been guarding Abraham Lincoln
at the Ford's Theatre.
There were many surmises as to who was
implicated with J. Wilkes Booth in the assassination of the President.
A new messenger had accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln to the theatre
on that terrible Friday night. It was the duty of this messenger to
stand at the door of the box during the performance, and thus guard
the inmates from all intrusion. It appears that the messenger was
carried away by the play, and so neglected his duty that Booth gained
easy admission to the box. Mrs. Lincoln firmly believed that this
messenger was implicated in the assassination plot.
Soon after the assassination Mrs. Lincoln said to him fiercely: "So
you are on guard tonight - on guard in the White House after helping
to murder the President!"
"Pardon me, but I did not help to murder the President. I could
never stoop to murder--much less to the murder of so good and great
a man as the President."
"But it appears that you did
stoop to murder."
"No, no! don't say that,"
he broke in. "God knows that I am innocent."
"I don't believe you. Why were
you not at the door to keep the assassin out when be rushed into the
box?"
"I did wrong, I admit, and I
have bitterly repented it, but I did not help to kill the President.
I did not believe that any one would try to kill so good a man in
such a public place, and the belief made me careless. I was attracted
by the play, and did not see the assassin enter the box."
"But you should have seen him.
You had no business to be careless. I shall always believe that you
are guilty. Hush! I shan't hear another word," she exclaimed,
as the messenger essayed to reply. "Go now and keep your watch,"
she added, with an imperious wave of her hand. With mechanical step
and white face the messenger left the room, and Mrs. Lincoln fell
back on her pillow, covered her face with her hands, and commenced
sobbing.
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