Adam Badeau

His Post-War Account of Mary Lincoln

Introduction

Adam Badeau’s infamous 1887 account of Mary Lincoln’s 1865 City Point meltdown may have contained exaggerations, but the basic account seems to be corroborated by others. This post takes a closer look at something that has gotten considerably less coverage: Mary and Badeau’s post-City Point interactions.

For parts of 1870 and 1871, Mary was in England with Tad. As I mentioned in two earlier posts about Alice D. Shipman, this was by far the best period of her life post-assassination.

His Red-Haired Dignity

From London, she wrote her new daughter-in-law, who was back in America. In one letter, she mentions she’s not a fan of the U.S. Consuls in the area—she had to deal with them on various administrative and financial matters. One in particular stood out. “I suppose,” she wrote Robert’s wife (also named Mary Lincoln), “I shall have to present myself, before his red-haired dignity, Badeau.”[1]

Badeau with Grant (Source: public domain)

A little while later, having left London to visit friends, she returned to her hotel and found a card had been left for her. It was from from Badeau, inviting her to a reception that, by that time, had already passed. (As Consul, Badeau’s duties included arranging social events for visiting Americans).

Mary wrote her daughter-in-law that, having not received a quick reply, Badeau had followed up with “a very kind note pressing me to come.” So they’d clearly moved on from the City Point incident.

The last known reference Mary made to Badeau was later in that same letter to her daughter-in-law. It’s quite the line:

“He is kind hearted—but very monkeyish & undignified in manner.”

Based on how the term was used at the time, Mary probably used “monkeyish” to mean something like “waggish,” which is “tending to or exhibiting reckless playfulness.” In other words, she thought he was kind of goofy.

Badeau never saw that letter, but Mary’s words indicate that a severely criticized part of his 1887 account—a part unrelated to City Point—may have been more the product of hazy memories than of mendacity. This is the part in question:

[Mrs. Lincoln] went abroad doing strange things and carrying the honored name of Abraham Lincoln into strange and sometimes unfit company, for she was greatly neglected, and felt the neglect. While I was Consul-General at London, I learned of her living in an obscure quarter, and went to visit her. She was touched by the attention, and when I invited her to my house, for it seemed wrong that the widow of the man who had done so much for us all, should be ignored by any American representative, she wrote me a note of thanks, betraying how rare such courtesies had become to her then.

Mary was capable of writing a beautiful letter, and he likely remembered her appreciative reply to his “very kind note,” and the fact that she’d failed to show up to the reception despite multiple invitations. By 1887, what was left of these memories may have been a mental impression of a lonely recluse.

Paul R. Shipman’s Rebuke of Badeau

The critic who politely eviscerated Badeau’s claims was Paul R. Shipman, the husband of Alice D. Shipman, who had also been in London at the same time as Mary and Badeau. In response to the excerpt from Badeau’s book that had been published in the major newspapers, Shipman wrote a letter to the Louisville Courier-Journal, which he’d once edited. (Reprinted in Omaha World-Herald, March 19, 1887). His editorial skill was on full display:

. . . what he says of Mrs. Lincoln in London, where I happened to meet her, makes me suspect that, consciously or unconsciously, he has raised several mole-hills considerably above their proper altitude.

“While I was consul-general at London,” he says, “I learned of her living in an obscure quarter, and went to see her. She was touched by the attention, and when I asked her to my house—for it seemed wrong that the widow of the man who had done so much for us all should be ignored by any American representative—she wrote me a note of thanks, betraying how rare such courtesies had become to her then.”

This is a little too much! If ever . . . I should make Gen. Badeau’s acquaintance (which I should be happy to do), and he should do me the honor to ask me to his house, and I should accept or decline without thanks, I wish him to understand in advance that I omit the thanks simply and purely to exclude his conclusion that ‘such courtesies’ have become rare with me. In the face of social logic of this sort a gentleman must needs show himself a boor to prove that he is not a beggar.

Gen. Badeau says Mrs. Lincoln ‘was touched by the attention’ he paid in calling on her. If thus moved, her sensibilities during her short sojourn in London must have been rather heavily taxed, for I seldom met her that she did not have something to tell me of this, that, or the other distinguished person who had just called to see her—now Bishop Simpson, now Mr. Motley, now the Count de Paris, and so on to the end of the shining chapter. Gen. Badeau, misled by his peculiar logic of etiquette, mistook her civility, and he misplaced his compassion. Her politeness, he may rest assured, was no appeal to his pity. She did not appear to me to think herself neglected . . .

What remains of Mary’s correspondence from this time shows that she did indeed have the active social life Shipman describes. In Mary’s letter to her daughter-in-law, she explains that she is leaving London to go traveling in other parts of Europe. In the closing paragraph, she makes it clear that she missed Badeau’s reception because she was visiting friends in another region, and mentions her interactions with the Count de Paris and John Lothrop Motley, hardly rough company.

Count de Paris, came in about a week since, (twelve miles, from Twickenham) to see me—Having only heard the day before, that I was in town [she had visited a different part of England]. He then wished me to name a day, when I would dine with them, and on my table, this morning I find a most urgent note to come out & visit them. I will do so, on my return in the spring. Also I find, a card for a reception which Badeau gave this week & of a later date, a very kind note pressing me to come he is kind hearted- but very monkeyish & undignified in manner. I grieve, in my mind, whenever I think of Mr. Motley, being compelled to leave his place. As he says to me quietly, "it is only Grant's spite against Sumner, that has brought it about" I think so too & tell him so. Will Evans & himself went out to the Chrystal Palace, to see some Gulliver pantomime[.] I hope this lace collar, will reach you safely…

Something tells me Mary didn’t speak her mind “quietly” like Motley did. The Motley controversy is detailed here. Also, Will Evans was the son of John Evans, who was visiting London with his family. I’m pretty sure the Evans family was considered respectable company at the time, but John’s reputation is considerably worse today and had already taken a hit in 1865, for the reason bolded in the following Wikipedia bio:

John Evans was an American politician, physician, founder of various hospitals and medical associations, railroad promoter, Governor of the Territory of Colorado, and namesake of Evanston, Illinois; Evans, Colorado; and Mount Evans, Colorado.

He is most noted for being one of the founders of both Northwestern University and the University of Denver. The John Evans professorships, the highest honors bestowed on faculty members at both Northwestern University and the University of Denver, are named for him. By bringing railroad service to Denver from several directions, he was responsible for the growth of Denver from a settlement to a city.

Evans was forced to resign the governorship in 1865 for his role in instigating the Sand Creek massacre, one of the worst massacres of Native Americans in U.S. history.

Will Evans became fairly prominent as an adult. Not sure what company Badeau objected to, since the many associates she named in her letters were of high social standing. Henry Wikoff was in England at the same time, but there’s no record of interaction between them.

Anyway, Shipman continued:

As to the quarter of London in which Mrs. Lincoln lived, a word will suffice. Her residence was in sight of Bedford Square, and perhaps five minutes walk from the British Museum, a quarter of London abounding in noble mansions, which throughout the first quarter of this century held the rank and fashion of the town, and still holds the flower of its gentry. It was an airy, sunny, cheerful district…respectable in every sense, and ‘obscure’ in none . . . Her life at this time was subservient to the welfare of ‘Tad,’ who lived with her, pursuing his studies under a tutor. She appeared wrapped up in him, shunned rather than courted attention, and desired above all other things peace and retirement. So she said, and I doubt not, sincerely.

I saw a good deal of her. As my wife, of whom she was an old friend, could not go out at the time, she was often at our rooms, and once I accompanied her, at her request, to hear Spurgeon [a spellbinding Baptist preacher] preach. Having never myself met her before, and being prepossessed against her, it is but fair to say that she agreeably disappointed me. I found her sympathetic, cordial, sensible, intelligent, and brimming with that effervescent bonhomie so fascinating in the women of your own South, of whom, indeed, she was one. No trace of eccentricity appeared in her conduct or manners. She was simply a bright, wholesome, attractive woman. I could not for the life of me recognize the Mrs. Lincoln of the newspapers in the Mrs. Lincoln I saw. Gen. Badeau will say I saw her in a ‘lucid interval.’ Possibly. Nonetheless I do take pleasure in recalling the experience. I never saw her afterwards, outside of the newspapers, where I need not say, she continued to figure very much as usual until her death...I suppose what the newspapers say must be true; yet I cannot help feeling that Mrs. Lincoln, judged by any standard, was more sinned against than sinning, and I am sure that she did not deserve the hard fate of being sinned against when she can sin no more.

Other Interactions

But it’s hard to give Badeau too much credit for good faith. The record indicates that in London, he saw Mary Lincoln fairly frequently, and in social situations in which she was highly functional. His presentation of her seemed designed to fit his narrative that she had been going insane for long time prior to 1875. He did not include any references to the more positive, or at least normal, interactions he must have had with her. As Shipman said in his letter, when it came to newspaper reports, “She had no ‘lucid interval’ in them.”

An invitation from Mary to Badeau survives, inviting him to join some other visitors at her hotel. William Reid, who helped Mary draft a memoir (which is still undiscovered!), was splitting his time between England and Scotland at the time, doing some work for the Dundee consulate. He recalled all the British consuls—Badeau included— getting together with him and Mary to gossip about the Civil War. In 1871, Badeau appointed William Reid Vice Consul at Dundee at Mary Lincoln’s request. But ultimately, Badeau portrayed her as a pathetic figure, and it seems her opinion of him was not much better.

Final Thoughts

While Shipman’s decision to publish in the Louisville-Courier Journal may be explained simply by his former affiliation with the paper—he was then living in New Jersey—his comments about her being southern have some significance. When Badeau’s piece came out in 1887, a number of southern papers rose to Mary Lincoln’s defense. My judgement is that the amount of southern newspaper criticism she received has been exaggerated, although I admit this could be because fewer southern newspapers are available from this time on newspaper websites, so perhaps I just haven’t seen enough of it.

She is often portrayed as being a scapegoat for both the north and south—largely because her niece’s official biography quotes her as saying so. This makes for a good story, but my instinct is that the verbal quotations in that book are mostly made up. Eventually it will enter my Hall of Shame. While Mary absolutely did receive criticism from both sides, it seems to have been much worse in the northern papers, both during and after the war, and they were the main source of scapegoating attempts. On top of that, it seems that most of the criticism came from generally pro-administration papers during the war, and republican papers after it. (It’s possible that democratic newspapers are also underrepresented on newspaper websites).

A lot of this probably had to do with the simple fact that southerners didn’t need to scapegoat Mary Lincoln during the war, and never developed the habit. They faced no backlash for denouncing the president or republican party directly.

Interestingly, the Louisville Courier-Journal was a combative paper got a lot of mileage out of Mary Lincoln gossip, and it wouldn’t be surprising if Shipman authored some of those pieces. But when Alice married him, Mary congratulated her, saying he must be quite talented to have held such a high position at that paper. However much it may have hurt her feelings at times, she was at home in the press environment of the era—she always admired the big editors, even of hostile papers.

[1] The letters are published in Neely, Mark E., and R. Gerald McMurtry. 1993. The Insanity File: The Case of Mary Todd Lincoln. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press.