The Lincoln Conspiracy by Timothy L. O'Brien

me. He and Mr. Stanton met with the bankers again today. I took it upon myself to warn Mr. Stanton that he was straining my Husband with continued talk of railroads and war and rebuilding the South. He responded with frost—withering frost! His look frightened me. I reminded Mr. Stanton that it was I who convinced my Darling Husband that General McClellan must be replaced and that he should mind his standing and his manners or share a similar fate. And no sooner had I left the room than my Dear Husband came out and warned me not to interfere—and to avoid threatening Mr. Stanton. I was taken completely aback. Three very grim-faced bankers poured out after, trailed by Mr. Stanton, who nervously pleaded with them. “This can be arranged, Sirs,” Mr. Stanton, said. “Patience, please.” Father raised his hand and told them all to be quiet in the presence of his wife. One of the bankers ignored him. Ignoredmy Darling Husband! The President! The banker told Father that even in New York women know when to silence themselves, and if the President could not keep his wife quiet, then he saw no reason to be quiet, either. Father, ever slow to anger, rippled in rage and ordered the men out. “Arrangements are not the province of my War Secretary, gentlemen. And I see to arrangements as they align with the Union’s needs. Do not press me beyond that,” he said. “I remind all of you that our city remains defended by almost 70 fortifications and more than 800 cannon. And we still have boys dying in the fields, boys at war. Mind them—mind this war—before your purses.” The bankers slinked away, but their faces remained chiseled in stone. I apologized this evening for stirring things such and my Dear Husband told me that these affairs stirred long before I became involved. I ask him to share more of this with me. “Father, I am your wife and I am here to fortify you and to support you.” But he falls silent, as he has done so often in recent days
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    April 9, 1865: It is a day of glory and Abraham shines! General Lee surrendered to General Grant in the court house at Appomattox. I have not seen Father so lifted in years. The railways have fled his mind. At the very least, they have fled his attention along with the New York merchants. Abraham told me that today beams celebration and redemption. Would that Willie were here with us for this day. Still, we have our Tad, our son who loves us true. And further still—the Union triumphant!
    April 11, 1865: Robert has taken a stand with the bankers and Mr. Stanton in whatever dispute and with whatever forces exist against my Dear Husband. I advised him to pay it no mind. But he replies that a “mighty web” is spun. His silences are back. I ask him to elaborate. “Father, what web?” And he stares away. I need him to lighten his burdens, cast off the worries of these past four years. We may seea play soon at Ford’s and he will enjoy a proper night away from the Executive Mansion
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    Augustus paused and caught his breath. A few dogs barked outside the warehouse. The cogniacs fluttered. He pressed his hand to the side of his head, closed his eyes briefly, and read again.
    April 19, 1865: They took my Murdered Husband’s body from the Mansion to the Capitol. They are taking him from me and giving him back to the people. Life is all darkness. The sun is a mockery to me
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    “She doesn’t write very much after this,” Augustus said. “Most of the entries are brief, except for the last, and it’s barely a week old.”
    May 11, 1865: Robert wants funds for furniture and real estate and tells me I’m not to be disconsolate with our loss. I have given him $1,000 this year alone and he wants more. And he assails me for my gloves and my curtains and my other purchases! I loathe my eldest son! My boy! He says he has the Pinkertons looking after me for my protection but they drive me to raving distraction. He says I am lunatic and unfit!! I found some of Robert’s telegrams from New