The Impeachment of Abraham Lincoln Read Online Free PDF

have been full of petitioners, waiting their chance to beg for government jobs, or special exemptions from some law that applied to everyone else, or pardons for nephews who had deserted the army. But those who wanted favors gravitated to power, and nowadays the power was on Capitol Hill. Hardly anyone believed that Lincoln had any favors left to bestow. The newspapers were predicting that Benjamin Wade would be occupying this house in another six weeks. Indeed, rumor had it that even here in the Mansion a goodly number of the staff were already Wade’s men.
    According to Arthur McShane, someone was giving information about their deliberations to the Radicals. Sitting in the dingy corridor with only Noah Brooks for company, Jonathan found himself wondering who was left at the White House that Lincoln could trust.
    II
    “So you want to be a lawyer,” said General Lafayette Baker. “Well, well.”
    “I do,” said Abigail, fighting to keep her voice steady. Baker had seated himself on the edge of the long conference table that dominated the common room. This forced Abigail to stand. She had chosen the corner nearest one of the two windows. The involute leading in the glass was trimmed with dainty snow.
    Baker had his powerful arms folded. His glare had been known to reduce prisoners to babbling incoherence. “Do you know why Mr. McShane left us alone?”
    A tight nod. “He wants you to test my … bona fides.”
    “Correct. Do you have any objection to answering a few questions?”
    “Would it matter if I did?”
    “Not really.” He coughed. “I’d like a cup of water.”
    Abigail never budged. “I am afraid I don’t know where they keep the jug.”
    “Why don’t you look for it?”
    “Because if I begin to open cabinets and so forth, you will no doubt decide that I am here to snoop.”
    Baker smiled. His teeth were yellow and uneven, a sharp contrast with so smoothly handsome a countenance. “I’ve never heard of you,” he said amiably. When Abigail, in an abundance of caution, chose not to answer, he continued: “It’s bloody odd, isn’t it? An alleged law clerk for Dennard shows up while that esteemed gentleman is in California and cannot be reached? And, by coincidence, just as Mr. Lincoln’s lawyers are formulating their strategy for trial?” He gave her no opportunity to interrupt. It was clear that he was the sort of man who wanted to be told only what he had already decided was true. She supposed this might make him a successful detective, if the goal was only to obtain a confession, whether or not it was a true one. “There is no way to check your story, you see. You could be anybody. You could be a spy. You could even be another assassin.”
    Abigail fought a shudder. She could hear Nanny Pork, asking her why she wanted to go off and work with white mens. She could hear her younger sister’s teasing lilt, warning that nobody would want to marry a woman who pursued a profession. And she could hear her brother, Michael, whispering that no white man could ever be trusted.
    “A spy for whom?” Abigail managed.
    “The Radicals. All the colored people love the Radicals, I hear. All of you think the North should keep its boot on the neck of the South. Mr. Lincoln wants to let ’em up easy, as he puts it. The Radicals want to punish them hard. I myself have no position in the matter. But I should imagine that you’d agree with the Radicals.”
    She had trouble meeting his eyes. At the Oberlin Collegiate Institute she had been the equal of any young man. But this was different. If she put a word wrong, Baker had the power to throw her into Old Capitol Prison, where many an inmate was known to vanish into the dank, lice-ridden cells and never again see the light of day; and the fact that she was a protégée of the great Charles Finney, evangelist and abolitionist, would mean nothing.
    “I have no objection to further punishment of the South,” she finally said, gaze on the dusty floor and