Before long, though, Robert found himself in an uncomfortable spotlight. His family was inevitably hounded by the press, and his life was constantly placed on display. Robert was dubbed “the Prince of Rails,” which was a play on his father’s nickname— the Railsplitter— and the British heir to the throne. Robert hated that name, but he could not escape it, and his relations with the press only soured with time. If he avoided reporters, then he was portrayed as haughty and aloof; but if he didn’t, then he was accused of hogging the spotlight and taking advantage of his father’s position.
The only solution was for him to ignore the press altogether. He spent most of his college years like any other student: he attended his classes, worked hard on his assignments, and went out drinking with friends. But he did find, to his delight, that his name helped him get girls, and that was the one arena of his life in which he relished the attention. Robert was already a prized catch to begin with— being a smart, sophisticated, good-looking young man— and a father in the White House made him all but irresistible. He was soon courting the most sought-after ladies in the country.
Robert was drawn to women with similar backgrounds. At one point he was with the daughter of Friedrich von Gerolt, the Prussian minister to the United States. Then he was linked to Lucy Hale, the daughter of Senator John Hale; but she became engaged to another famous man, the great Shakespearean actor John Wilkes Booth.
Then, in February 1862, an urgent telegram arrived. His brothers had fallen ill with what appeared to be typhoid. Robert rushed to Washington to find both Willie and Tad at death’s door. His parents were beside themselves with anguish. Robert wanted to help, but neither he nor the doctors could do anything. In the end, Tad pulled through but Willie did not. Willie’s death devastated the family. Robert’s mother took the loss particularly hard, and his father was already carrying monumental burdens. It fell to Robert to offer comfort and support.
Robert vowed to do everything in his power to be there for his family, and in his mind, the best way to do it was to fight for his father. Abraham Lincoln was a very capable President, but Robert knew he was still human. The war had become an all-consuming effort; Robert witnessed many fretful meetings and sleepless nights, and he even found his father in tears after the Battle of Gettysburg. Robert believed in his father, he believed in the Union, and he wanted to serve accordingly. But his mother was steadfastly against it.
“We have lost one son,” Mary said, “and his loss is as much as I can bear, without being called to make another sacrifice.”
Abraham Lincoln’s reply was simple. “But many a poor mother has given up all her sons, and our son is not more dear to us than the sons of other people are to their mothers.” Lincoln understood the risks of taking up arms, but he also knew that it had to be done.
Robert wanted to press the issue, but after much discussion, he and his father decided to tread lightly. Mary was so grief-stricken that the rest of the family feared for her sanity. Robert opted to give her time. It was not an easy decision to make, since the war was only escalating. Many battlefields were perilously close to Washington, to the point where soldiers were quartered in the White House, and the South Lawn was being used as a drill field. Robert hoped and prayed he could do something before it was too late.
During that time, he met a girl named Mary Harlan. This Mary also came from a small town— Mount Pleasant, Iowa— but she was just as worldly as Robert. Her father was Senator James Harlan, who had sent her to the finest finishing school in the capital. By the time Robert met her, she had acquired impeccable manners, a flawless command of the French language, and an intimate knowledge of Washington society. Robert fell for her immediately.
It was then that duty called. His mother’s emotional wounds were beginning to heal, and now that he had a sweetheart, he had more to fight for than ever. Moreover, his father was up for re-election, and no President since Andrew Jackson had ever won a second term. With the bloodshed at a fever pitch, many Americans were desperate for peace. Critics were pointing out Robert’s lack of service, and he didn’t want to cost his father the White House. Robert decided that enough was enough. At the President’s request, Ulysses S. Grant agreed to place him on his staff, where Robert became a captain and assistant adjutant general of volunteers.
Robert shipped out to City Point, Virginia, to the grueling Siege of Petersburg. That area was key for both sides, so neither army wanted to give any ground. The Confederates hunkered down behind their fortifications, while the Union built miles upon miles of trenches. Despite more than a dozen major battles and nearly seventy thousand casualties, there was no end in sight to the stalemate.
Robert soon became accustomed to military life. The fighting ebbed and flowed, but Robert didn’t mind. He was proud to be in uniform, and he and Grant developed a bond. In March 1865, he played host to his father as the President inspected his troops. Mary Harlan was part of Lincoln’s entourage, and Robert stole private moments with her whenever he could.
Finally, on April 1, 1865, General Philip Henry Sheridan won the Battle of Five Forks. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back: the rebel lines collapsed, and Petersburg fell to the Yankees. That left the Confederate capital of Richmond virtually unprotected, and in less than forty-eight hours, Union troops marched into the city. The Southern government fled to Danville, Virginia, while the army retreated up the Appomattox Valley. Grant and his men kept up a relentless pursuit, and within a week, it was over. General Robert E. Lee agreed to surrender at Appomattox Court House.
Robert witnessed the surrender from beginning to end. He stood on the McLean House porch as the generals met, exchanged formalities, and sat down in the parlor. Robert watched with General Sheridan at his side as Lee and Grant drew up the papers. It was a surreal, spellbinding moment, with the defeated Lee remaining a gentleman to the end. Finally, with the stroke of a pen, the war’s epic battles were over.
That night, Robert accompanied Grant as he headed back to Washington. Their route was an obstacle course of blocked roads, burned bridges, and torn-up railroads. Dead horses lay strewn across the landscape, and vultures picked at the corpses until all the flesh was gone. Robert kept wondering how such horrible spectacles could have come about. Still, by the time the party reached the Potomac, Robert assumed that his odyssey was over. He had no idea that the climax of the war— and the defining day of his life— was yet to come.
They arrived in Washington on the morning of April 14. Robert expected the capital to be quiet, since everything was closed for Good Friday. But to his surprise, the city was giddy with celebration. Flags and banners were hanging from every building. The papers were fawning over President Lincoln, who had finally saved the Union after all. Bands were playing “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and a five-hundred-gun salute had shattered windows in Lafayette Square.
Robert arrived at the White House to find his parents and his brother at breakfast. He quickly found himself at the center of attention. His mother was immensely relieved to see him, his father wanted to know every detail of Appomattox, and Tad wanted to hear all of Brother Bob’s adventures. Robert greeted them in kind, and he spent the next hour regaling them with his stories. The whole family was in high spirits, since no one understood the importance of victory more than the Lincolns.
“Well, my son, you have returned safely from the front,” his father said, and he voiced his hope for lasting peace. “Now listen to me, Robert. You must lay aside your uniform and return to college. I wish you to read law for three years, and at the end of that I hope that we will be able to tell whether you will make a good lawyer or not.”
Robert didn’t always listen to his father, but in that instance, he promised to take his advice. He didn’t know what the future might hold, but he was ready and anxious to find out.
Then the conversation shifted to lighter affairs. Mary wanted to discuss the family’s Easter weekend plans. The Lincolns were avid theatergoers, and she was thinking of buying tickets
to see Our American Cousin. The President liked the idea, but the boys were not interested. Tad had no desire to see talky grown-up plays— he was anxious to see Aladdin instead— and Robert was still tired from his journey.
By and by, a messenger announced that the Speaker of the House had arrived. The President acknowledged the message and finished his coffee. Then he patted Robert’s shoulder and excused himself from the table.
Robert spent the day with his best friend John Hay. The two men were practically brothers, having known each other since prep school. Hay had worked as a law clerk in Springfield, so he had gotten to know the Lincolns both personally and professionally. They were so close that Hay had lived with the family in the White House, and he had worked as the President’s personal secretary. Hay was one of the few people who knew Robert well enough to let him truly be himself.
That night, as the President was leaving, he reiterated his invitation: “We’re going to the theater, Bob, don’t you want to go?”
Robert thanked him for the offer, but again he turned him down. At the time, he didn’t think anything of it.
Then, a few hours later, Robert heard a commotion outside. At first he ignored it; he assumed it was a victory celebration or perhaps a joyous homecoming. But then he looked out the window and saw cavalry rushing down the street. A confused voice echoed from downstairs. Robert knew right away that something was wrong.
A moment later his door burst open, and White House guard Tom Pendel came in. “Something happened to the President,” Pendel said. “You had better go down to the theater and see what it is.”
Robert sprinted downstairs with Hay close behind. He was ready to run all the way to the theater, but when he came to the North Portico, he found that a crowd was already gathering.
Senator Charles Sumner beckoned him to a carriage. “Come quickly,” he said.
“What happened?” Robert yelled as he and Hay climbed in.
“I don’t know,” Sumner said.
As the driver whipped the reins, someone yelled out that the Cabinet had been killed. Robert’s heart pounded. He desperately hoped the rumor was untrue, but he couldn’t deny what he was seeing. Washington was falling into chaos: church bells were tolling, the streets were flooding with people, and all the key government offices were being placed under guard. Whatever had happened, it was clearly unprecedented.
The carriage came around a corner to find Tenth Street cordoned off. A throng had assembled in front of Ford’s Theatre, and soldiers were blocking the entrance to a nearby boarding house. Robert jumped out of the carriage, but the soldiers wouldn’t let him pass.
“It’s my father!” Robert yelled. “My father! I’m Robert Lincoln.”
The commanding officer recognized him. “Let him through,” he said.
Robert scrambled up the front steps with Hay and Sumner close behind. The Lincolns’ family physician, Doctor Robert K. Stone, was standing at the door. He saw Robert coming, turned down his head, and quietly broke the news. John Wilkes Booth had shot the President at point-blank range. The wound was clearly mortal; his father could only live for a few hours at most.
Robert stood in shock at first, then choked down a lump in his throat. He lost his composure for a moment, but then he put his hand to his forehead. He took a deep breath, steeled himself for what might happen next, and finally stepped into the house.
Doctor Stone led him down a hallway, where an unmistakable blood trail led to a back room. Robert could hear his mother’s cries, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. His heart jumped into his throat when he heard his father’s voice, but then he realized it was not speech, it was only labored breathing. Then Robert stepped into the back room and froze.
Abraham Lincoln lay unconscious in a small double bed. A half-dozen doctors were attending to him, but they knew there was no chance of saving the President’s life. Lincoln was too tall to lie in the bed comfortably, so the doctors had lain him in an awkward diagonal position. His head wound was not visible, but his pillow was soaked with blood.
Robert stood motionless for a moment, then leaned down. “Father?” he said.
“It’s no use,” came a voice. “He can’t hear you. He is dead.”
“No, he isn’t dead,” Sumner said. “Look at his face, he is breathing.”
“It will never be any more than this.”
Robert turned to Sumner and put his face on his shoulder. Panic and disbelief welled up inside him, and he had to struggle to keep from going into hysterics. He felt as if he were living a nightmare, with sounds and images blurring together in his head.
His mother was even more shocked than he. Mary had been holding her husband’s hand at the moment he was shot, so she had felt his body jerk in a reflex. She had initially flown into a panic, but by the time Robert arrived, her exhaustion had taken over. She seemed to be in a trance, refusing to speak or acknowledge anyone’s presence. Robert tried to comfort her, but Mary would not be consoled. At times she refused to believe that her husband was dying; she would periodically run to his bedside, shower his face with kisses, and call him by endearing names. “Love,” she said, “live one moment to speak to me once, to speak to our children.” But she never received a response.
Lincoln’s wound would have killed a normal man in an hour, but his legendary stamina kept him alive all night. Still, by seven o’clock in the morning, his breathing had grown shallow. Countless high government officials came to pay their respects. The crowds outside refused to disperse, even when a heavy downpour began. Robert stood at the end of the bed and watched his father’s final struggle. Tears welled up in Robert’s eyes, and he tried to hide the quiver in his lip. Senator Sumner put his arm around him, and John Hay put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Doctor Charles Leale kept his finger on the President’s pulse while the other men bowed their heads in respect.
Finally, at 7:22 am, Lincoln’s breathing stopped and his pulse disappeared. Leale exchanged knowing glances with Surgeon General J.K. Barnes. Then Barnes crossed the President’s arms across his chest and whispered, “he is gone.”
The room was silent at first. Robert couldn’t believe that his father was dead. Abraham Lincoln had just achieved the crowning victory of his life, and he was already being called the greatest President of all time. It was unthinkable for him to be struck down in his moment of triumph, but that was exactly what had just happened. As reality sank in, the men knelt at his bedside. Reverend Phineas Gurley said a prayer. Then, when the prayer was over, Edwin Stanton whispered the words, “now he belongs to the ages.”
Robert could hardly remember what happened after that. He could hear his mother sobbing in the next room; he vaguely recalled leading her outside to their carriage, and he was able to sense the muddy, dreary trip back to the White House. And then he heard Tad’s plaintive cries: “They’ve killed Papa dead! They’ve killed Papa dead!” But from there on out, he couldn’t remember a thing.
Robert’s state lasted for days, until he forced himself to his senses. The funeral arrangements had to be made, the estate had to be settled, and the new President had to move into the White House. Mary Lincoln was too grief-stricken to do much of anything, so the responsibility again fell on Robert’s shoulders. He found that being busy helped him deal with his grief, but there was one thing he simply couldn’t handle— namely his guilt.
Robert kept asking himself why he had declined his father’s invitation. He learned that there had been one empty seat in the theater box that night, and it would have been Robert’s if he had agreed to attend. That seat was just to the right of the door, so Robert would have seen Booth enter, and he could have stopped him before he reached his father. Robert soon found himself obsessing over the matter. He spent a great deal of time at the shuttered Ford’s Theatre; he would sit alone in the box, which was still stained with blood, and he would try to reenact the scene. He was convinced that he could have saved his father’s life if he had been there.
On May 22, the
Lincolns left the nation’s capital and moved back to Illinois. The original plan had been to head home to Springfield, but Mary couldn’t bear to be reminded of her husband, so the family went to Chicago instead. Chicago turned out to be the right place for all of them. Robert was able to finish his law studies, and his mother was able to rebuild her life while staying close to her friends. Tad managed to grow up in a fairly normal way.
During that time, the family’s money was tight. With their breadwinner gone, the Lincolns had to find new ways to make ends meet. Abraham Lincoln did leave an inheritance— having run a successful law practice for years— but he hadn’t left a will, which meant that his estate had to go through probate court. That was a long drawn-out process, and the family saw little money until it was over.
Still, Robert was determined to pull through, for he was not about to let hardship take over his life. He scoured Chicago for business opportunities, and before long, he had found more than he knew what to do with. He considered getting into real estate, but he decided against it. Instead, he passed the bar and immediately opened a firm of his own. He entered the world of corporate litigation, which got him into the halls of power without drawing too much press. Slowly but surely, he began juggling law and business, and he found success in both.
He then married Mary Harlan and embarked on a life of newlywed bliss. Robert strove to keep expanding his horizons, and he soon became an expert in railroad litigation, insurance litigation, and other high-stakes areas of law. His client list included Potter Palmer, who had all but invented modern retail, and Philip Armour, the king of the pork-packing business. Robert’s income rose accordingly, which allowed him to buy a house on swanky Wabash Avenue. A few months after that, his wife gave birth to a beautiful daughter. By 1871, he seemed to have everything that a mortal man could ask for.
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