09/23/2025
Some insights on Mary Todd Lincoln
September 22, 1863
Mary received a wire from her husband. She tore open the envelope and quickly read the message. In typical Lincoln style, it was short and to the point. Over the past few weeks, she had received many telegrams, some delivered by the manager, others placed in the cubby behind the registration desk that housed her key, or delivered to her room, once even answered by Tad, who had forgotten to tell her of its arrival.
Telegrams were Mr. Lincoln’s attempt to stay connected to her while she was away. In truth, Mary hoped her absence would make him realize how much he needed and loved her. Lately, he was so distracted, his attention short and almost too abrupt. As she read the first few words, she began to hope her plan was working, that change was indeed in the offing. “Come home when you can. The weather is getting cooler in Washington.” Mary’s lips upturned slightly into a smile. Mr. Lincoln did indeed miss her. The thought was short-lived. Her smile faded as she continued to read, “We now have a tolerably accurate summary of the late battle between Rosencrans and Bragg. Of the killed: One Major General and five Brigadiers, including General Helm.”
Mary re-read the short telegram, letting the words sink deeper into her mind. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from showing her true emotion, something she had become quite good at lately. She had decided it was best not to show any emotion in public, especially in front of those she did not fully know. However, she shared many emotions and her wrath with those close to her, like her husband, his secretaries, even Mrs. Keckly or the sweet young Clara Harris. She knew her nickname; she was not a stupid woman. She knew the young secretaries, John Nicolay and John Hay, called her the Hellcat behind her back, and some days she reveled in the fact she could and did scare them. Mr. Lincoln, on the other hand, did not scare that easily.
Now, as she read the message a third time, she still showed no emotion, even though her head began to throb and her stomach felt suddenly ill. The note from her husband, so matter-of-fact, expressed no emotion and yet was telling her that her brother-in-law, Emilie’s husband, her own, and Mr. Lincoln’s favorite sister of all her siblings, had just been killed at Chickamauga. Mary was aware of the difficulties of her presence in Washington, being a southerner from the South and now living in the North, without anyone to trust or to trust her. Ironic, considering her husband was born in Kentucky, too.
Re-reading the short message, Mary realized the importance of keeping things brief and to the point. Who knew how many eyes saw this message between wife and husband—many eyes and hands were between New York and Washington when it came to this message. Many families lost fathers, sons, uncles, brothers, and brothers-in-law. Hers was no different.
And yet, she was not allowed to mourn—especially in public or in front of any outsider. What she trained herself to do in public—with the hotel manager next to her, whom she was sure knew the contents of the telegram—she could not and would not show sadness over the loss of a southerner and an officer, not even if the loss was a favorite brother-in-law, the husband of her beloved sister Emilie. Within the past few months, Mary had lost four of her siblings—full and half brothers. Of the 14 siblings, eight supported the Confederacy and four were with the Union. Half were now dead.
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