1913, Boston Sunday Herald and Boston Sunday Post

First published in August/September, 2005, Volume 2, Issue 4, The Hatchet: Journal of Lizzie Borden Studies.

Boston Sunday Herald 6 April 1913

LIZZIE BORDEN TWENTY YEARS AFTER THE TRAGEDY

Woman Acquitted of Famous Crime Lives in Big House Alone, Except for Companionship of Servants.

Her Neighbors and Former Friends Have Broken All Social Ties – Her Sister, Even, Has Moved Away.

By Gertrude Stevenson

Twenty years ago Lizzie Borden, accused of the murder of her father and her step-mother, stood up in the court room at New Bedford and heard a jury of her peers pronounce the verdict of acquittal – heard them declare to all the world that she was “not guilty” of two of the most brutal and atrocious murders that ever shocked the country.

Today that same Lizzie Borden lives a recluse, as damned by public opinion and as ostracized by former friends and enemies alike as if that same jury had pronounced the one word “Guilty.”

Lizzie Borden still lives in Fall River, but as far as Fall River is concerned, Lizzie Borden is an outcast, an Ishmael, a social pariah. Her name is uttered with contempt, and even her friends and relatives who comforted her during the months of her imprisonment and throughout the ordeal of her trial have long since ceased their visits. Today her nearest neighbors pass without a nod or sign of recognition.

Twelve jurymen found Lizzie Borden guiltless. Nevertheless, she has been punished and persecuted as no other innocent woman in history. She has lived to know the tragedy of a verdict of acquittal. She has come to realize that Andrew J. Jennings, her counsel and friend, was a true prophet when, in addressing Judge Blaisdell at her preliminary trial he declared:

 “Don’t, your honor, don’t put the stigma of guilt upon this woman, reared as she has been and with a past character beyond reproach. Don’t let it go out in the world as the decision of a just judge that she is probably guilty.”

Murder Still Unavenged.

After 20 years, when the deaths of Andrew J. Borden and his wife are still unavenged – when the double tragedy still heads the list of New England’s unsolved murder mysteries – with Lizzie Borden banished from society, shunned by all who were once near and dear to her, the words of Andrew J. Jennings may well be remembered as an example of masterly and farsighted prophecy.

After 20 years, Lizzie Borden lives as shut off from the world as if she were behind prison bars – condemned to solitude by barriers stronger than any prison wall could be – less tangible but a hundred times more effective than any bars of iron – the silent, inexorable censure of her fellow men and women.

This woman, who for two decades has maintained the silence of a Sphinx, who has never asked for mercy, never pleaded to be understood, never by any word or sign expressed indignation at the treatment accorded her by the people of Fall River, lives in the great silent home she purchased with her share of her murdered father’s half-million, knowing no human companionship save that which she can hire – no friendships except those of occasional strangers who turn a cold shoulder upon her advances when they find that she is the Lizzie Borden once tried for murder – no affection save that of the dumb beasts with which she has surrounded herself now that human attachments are denied her.

When Lizzie Borden was acquitted it was commonly believed that she would soon shake the dust of Fall River from her feet, and that under an assumed name she would try to live down the accusation that had been made against her – that in new places and among new people she would attempt to find new interests.

Sought House in Home City.

But Lizzie Borden apparently never contemplated such a procedure. As soon as the affairs of her father’s estate were adjusted, she proceeded to purchase a handsome mansion in the exclusive “hill section” of Fall River – the very neighborhood she had long and futilely tried to induce her father to enter.

To all intents and purposes the woman planned to live among her friends and acquaintances just as she had always lived, continuing to attend the same fashionable Congregational Church, entertaining and being entertained, only now she had the added advantage of several hundred thousands of dollars in her own right. She had her horses and carriages, the beautiful clothes she had always longed for and which the thrift if her father and his second wife had previously denied her. Apparently, aside from the shadow of the tragic deaths of her father and step-mother over her life, everything that heart or mind could desire was Lizzie Borden’s.

It was while reveling in the luxury and power that the possession of a large amount of money cannot fail to give, Lizzie Borden read the writing on the wall. It was then she first began to feel the pressure of public opinion – that she first realized that former cordial greetings were growing colder and more cold – that friends who once would stop for a chat or drop in for an informal visit passed her by with scant nods and averted gaze – that she began to understand the tremendous force of unexpressed criticism – that the conviction came home to her than which no earthly situation is more crushing or more annihilating – that she was being shunned by every human being, with an occasional rare exception, who had formerly made up her life and happiness. It was all the more terrifying because it was so indefinable. There was no tangible finger of scorn – no open declaration of hostility – just that insistent maddening, universal aloofness.

 Never Wore Mourning.

She was criticised because she did not wear mourning for her parents. Her every going in and coming out was discussed, and all manner and kind of construction placed upon every ordinary unimportant detail of her mode of living and acting. Some thought she drove her horses too rapidly and recklessly down the main street. Some averred that she had never shown the proper grief over her father’s death. Others insisted that she was making altogether too sudden and too blatant display of the money that had come to her with the murder of her father. She could do nothing right. If she tried to be happy and forget the awful shadow that had come into her life her critics called her heartless. If she appeared on the streets in a sober, subdued frame of mind there was all sorts of gossipings and predictions and clackings of tongues – such an attitude could mean but one thing to their minds!

So the years went on, one after another of her friends dropping away from her, until today Lizzie Borden, looking for all the world like any other stout matronly woman you might meet on the street, is without a doubt the most isolated free woman in New England.

She is today just what she was described as being when she faced trial for her life 20 years ago – a stolid, immobile, unemotional appearing woman – her large, strong features expressing the same determination that characterized her when she faced her accusers on the charge of parracide [sic]. If this woman has ever had an emotion, it can honestly be said that she has invariably succeeded in concealing it from any other human eye.

She goes about today just as she went her way, firm-mouthed, direct-eyed and baffling of understanding during the days following the discovery of the mutilated bodies of her father and her step-mother, during the inquest that resulted in her arrest, day after day during the preliminary trial, at the end of which Judge Blaisdell found her probably guilty – throughout the grand jury hearing when 20 out of 21 grand jurymen voted to indict her – all during the eight months of her confinement in Taunton jail while she awaited the sitting of the superior court and during the long hours of her 13 days trial by jury which ended in her acquittal and release.

Months Without a Visitor.

Not in 15 years has Lizzie Borden attended the church where up to her 33d year she was a leader – working for charity – presiding at meetings of the Christian Endeavor, singing in the choir – active in all church socials and gatherings. Not in years has she entered any store or shop in the city where she was born and spent her girlhood and young womanhood as the younger daughter of one of the city’s richest and most respected business men. Not to the knowledge of any one has she engaged in any charity for the past 10 years.

Months pass by without a human foot crossing her threshold other than those of menials and tradespeople. A visitor at the Borden door is such a rare and curious sight as to occasion comment throughout the neighborhood.

Not only the house of tragedy on Second street, where she was born and brought up and which is still in her possession, but also her present beautiful residence high on the hill overlooking the business section of Fall River, is the mecca of innumerable curious sightseers year after year. Apparently the interest in the Borden murders and the personality of the daughter upon whose shoulders guilt first fell has never abated. A round dozen prominent Fall River people tell me that, no matter where they go, the minute that they mention that their home town is Fall River, they are greeted with but one inevitable question: 

“Whatever became of Lizzie Borden?”

Fall River is noted for its mills – its industries – its prominent people; but they rank second in interest and importance to the question:

“What about Lizzie Borden?”

Lizzie Borden comes and goes about the city and in and out of it, unquestioning and unquestioned. A few years ago she discarded her carriage and handsome pair for the finest limousine that money could buy. Secure from observation in its richly upholstered interior, she drives about the city at dusk or goes to and from the trains and takes trips around the surrounding country. All her shopping is done out of town. She is a frequent visitor in Boston, where she makes her home at the Bellevue, registering as “Lisbeth Borden,” although her story is well known to the hotel attaches.

Deserted by Sister.

Probably the most remarkable and unusual event of the past 20 years in the life of Lizzie Borden is the desertion of her by her sister Emma. Miss Emma was the older daughter of the household, as staid and gentle and meek as Lizzie was forceful, domineering and strong-willed. Emma it was who, on the witness stand, made the heroic struggle to prove her sister’s innocence. Emma it was who stuck to her through thick and thin – in spite of criticism and regardless of the loneliness of her life while she shared her sister’s ostracism.

For years it was an open secret that Emma and Lizzie did not agree. Gossip of their frequent dissension in regard to the management of the household, the servants and their estate was common. Finally, unable to bear the inharmony longer and at the urgent request of her friends, Emma packed up her belongings, called a moving van and left the French street mansion never to again set foot within its doors.

She first went to live in Providence, solely her friends maintain, for the sake of appearance, feeling that if her sister and herself must live apart it would occasion less comment if they resided in different cities. Last spring, however, she was anxious to return to Fall River. Well along in years, she longed for Fall River and the surroundings which were familiar to her. She took up her residence with the Misses Buck, daughters of the late Rev. E. A. Buck, who, as the family’s pastor, sat at Lizzie’s side throughout her trial. The Buck residence is at the corner of Prospect and June streets, an easy walking distance from the Borden home on French street, but neither the Misses Buck nor Miss Emma ever pay or receive visits from Lizzie Borden.

In spite of the fact that the sisters do not agree, the Borden estate has never been split. The various holdings of the two sisters, which are commonly reported about Fall River to be close to the million dollar mark, are managed by Charles. C. Cook, a Fall River real estate dealer who had done considerable business for Mr. Borden. Andrew J. Jennings, the family lawyer 20 years ago and associated with ex-Gov. Robinson in Lizzie’s defence, still attends to the legal affairs of both sisters.

Neighbors Bring Law Suits.

Especially does Cook act as general agent for Lizzie, and all business with her must be done through him. As year after year her ostracism has become more complete, and the woman becomes more and more adverse to meeting people, Mr. Cook has gradually come to control her entire business interests, from letting the offices in the Borden block to hiring her servants and adjusting her lawsuits. 

And of law suits, or threatened law suits, Lizzie Borden has had a considerable number. In almost every instance these controversies have been over land or fences. It was a strange circumstance that led this woman to choose a home adjoining that of the man who later became the chief prosecuting officer for the commonwealth, Atty. James M. Swift. 

The Swifts owned a lot of land at the rear of their own residence, joining the Borden property at right angles and facing Belmont street, which Miss Borden bought some years later.

The deed of this purchase discloses a clause restricting Miss Borden from ever erecting a structure of any description upon it. With the acquisition of a new automobile, however, Miss Borden made preparations to build a garage on the land she had purchased from the family of the attorney-general in spite of the clause forbidding any such construction. Much to her annoyance the Swifts held her to the letter of her deed; at least, that is the inference generally drawn, as she finally built her garage on the other side of her house on a lot which she had purchased some time before. Originally, there was a house on this lot, but Miss Borden had had it removed and the land converted into very attractive grounds.

Many Fences On Estate.

The original plan for the garage called for an entrance facing Belmont street and a driveway across the land which the Swifts had formerly owned. The restriction in the deed, however, prevented the construction of even as much as a concrete path. Therefore, Miss Borden was obliged to keep that portion of her property devoted to grass lot and have the entrance to her garage from French street and across the lot which she preferred to keep as a smooth lawn.

Her vexation at being held to the conditions of the deed was immediately expressed in a 10-foot lattice fence separating her house from the Swift home. She also had built a low iron fence separating the two lawns and defining her property line. She declared that the high fence had been built between the houses to save herself from the annoyance of the curious scrutiny of tradespeople delivering goods at the adjoining houses.

Shortly afterward she ordered a similar fence built on the other side of her lot, next to the house owned by Mrs. Davenport and her niece, Miss Henry. In addition, she added a row of Lombardy poplars, which shut off the entire view from the western windows of the Davenport home and darken the rooms on that side of the house.

Evidently further imbued with the desire to shut her property off from that of all her neighbors, she next built a pointed stone wall four feet high along the entire rear boundary of her land, thus separating it from the John W. Robertson estate. This wall alone cost $600.

On account of the numerous fences, walls and trees, the Borden house immediately attracts attention. Even if you did not know that a woman of mystery lives there you would immediately single the place out by its air of remoteness and seclusion. The house itself seems to have taken on something of the peculiar life of its mistress, and stands dark, gloomy, curtains drawn, basement windows heavily barred, at once as removed and different from the surrounding homes as the woman who presides over it year after year in unbroken solitude is different from the women who sit at the windows of the other houses sewing or reading, watching the passersby. The broad piazza is almost entirely screened by latticework and woodbine.

Lizzie Borden’s house has 14 rooms, richly and artistically furnished. The drawing room is adorned with rare paintings, works of art and exquisite bric-a-brac. Two women servants, a man-of-all-work and a chauffeur are at Lizzie Borden’s beck and call. The maids are rated as the highest paid servants in Fall River, receiving $10 and $12 weekly.

Lizzie Borden never does anything by halves or with a stinting hand, proving a contrast to the thrifty, if not penurious, record of her father, who, although he possessed nearly half a million dollars, denied himself most of the creature comforts of life, even, as it was told at the trial, refusing to equip his house with a bathroom, notwithstanding the urgent importunities of both his daughters. The daughter, unhampered by paternal frugality, spent $3000 on her garage alone, making it the finest thing of its sort in Fall River.

The next friction over land cost Lizzie Borden one of the few remaining friendships left her – that of Mrs. E. B. Lake, who resides directly across the street. Years ago when the two women were very friendly, Mrs. Lake, as appears by the land records, sold to Miss Borden one-half of the lot of land adjoining the Lake residence, apparently for the purpose of making an open park. Miss Borden’s half of the land was the section next to the Lake residence, in keeping with this eccentric woman’s apparent desire to prevent new houses being built in her neighborhood.

Whether, after a time, Lizzie Borden wanted possession of the entire lot and Mrs. Lake refused to sell or what the difficulty was, it is impossible to say, but finally another one of Lizzie Borden’s famous fences was built along the boundary line of her share, dividing the lot prominently in two and spoiling the effects of it as a park. It is now apparent to all that the relations which had been strained for some time between the two women have come to a breaking point and the last friendly neighbor has been hopelessly estranged.

Trouble Over Art Works.

Apropos of Lizzie Borden’s love of works of art and rare bric-a-brac many startling and decidedly sensational stories are told. That the woman did not terminate her interviews with police officers and inspectors when she walked out of the courtroom a free woman 20 years ago is an open secret. On one occasion known only to a few, police inspectors were very anxious to have an interview with Miss Borden in regard to a small but valuable oil painting which had mysteriously disappeared from a prominent establishment in Providence.

The story which has never before reached the public print is that the picture was discovered in the home of a wealthy woman in Providence, a friend of Miss Borden. The oil was rare and unique and easily recognizable. In the midst of the investigation, persons representing Miss Borden paid the price of the picture, declaring at the same time that the whole affair was an imposition, but that Miss Borden preferred paying to publicity.

Still another and more recent police visitor called on Lizzie Borden. He had been detailed by the Worcester police to look up a matter for a prominent Worcester citizen now dead. Just what was the nature of this incident is cloaked in the deepest secrecy owing to the fact that others equally prominent are involved. It is said, on extremely good authority, to be connected with the “mysterious veiled woman” who was a daily attendant at the Lizzie Borden trial. She was a girlhood chum of the accused and entertained her frequently for some years after the trial. This woman finally married a man whom she believed was a member of New York’s Four Hundred. The impression soon became general that “the mysterious veiled woman” had been married for her fortune. At any rate, a few years ago she was charged with attempting to defraud a Worcester hotel keeper. Whatever Lizzie Borden’s connection with the Worcester case may have been, it was finally adjusted by her lawyers, and still another affair never saw the light of day.

Mode of Life Greatly Changed.

Former friends and acquaintances of Lizzie Borden who have seen her occasionally during the past few years declare that she is greatly changed – not the natural change that years inevitably make – or the alteration that suffering or sorrow alone might effect. This notable difference might easily be attributed to high living made possible by the acquisition of her fortune and a totally different order of life to which the woman had been accustomed up to the time of her father’s death.

At all events, Lizzie Borden’s 32 years preceding the murder of her father and the 20 years since are as completely different as the lives of two entirely different individuals might be. The regime in the home of Andrew Borden was one of extreme simplicity, as witness the fact that crackers and milk formed the family supper the night before the murder, and that Lizzie Borden had cookies and coffee for her breakfast the morning of the murder. 

How different the present life of the younger daughter of the household, surrounded as she is by every luxury that money can buy. One servant sufficed for the family of four in the old days. Lizzie Borden living entirely alone requires the services of four.

Just as Lizzie Borden can buy service so she can buy companionship even if it is only that of animals. For years her constant companions have been two thoroughbred Boston terriers. They accompanied her on her walks and drives and she always seemed affectionately attached to them. Recently one of the dogs died and the other now shares its mistress’ affection with several singing canaries. Here and there in the trees around her home, Lizzie Borden has had squirrel houses built and all the year round several gray squirrels make their home on her grounds. Oftentimes at dusk she walks about to feed them and the little animals climb up onto her arms and shoulders.

One cannot help remarking the contrasting elements the woman’s nature presents. Seeing her with her dog, her canaries and her squirrels, it is hard to imagine that she is the same woman who, in talking with City Marshall Hilliard the day her father and step-mother were murdered, even in the very room where the still bodies lay with their ghastly wounds covered by sheets, stamped her foot and said:

   “Don’t call her my mother. She was my step-mother. My mother died years and years ago.”

Gossip Still Persists.

Fall River today is rife with stories about Lizzie Borden. Even after the lapse of 20 years – a generation of time and custom and change – the discussion of “the Fall River tragedy” seems of almost as absorbing interest as it was at the time the crimes were committed. Many of these stories are gossip, perhaps. Many are undoubtedly founded on fact. 

All are equally interesting in regard to the weirdest mystery and the most mysterious woman that the criminal history of Massachusetts has ever known.

One story repeated again and again deals with a grocery man who called at Lizzie Borden’s home to deliver a barrel of flour. According to the story, Lizzie Borden asked the grocer if he would open the barrel for her. “Certainly,” he replied. “Wait a minute until I run down cellar and get the hatchet,” said Miss Borden. According to the story, the grocer’s man is running yet.

Ostracism Extends to Friends.

Still another showing how the woman’s name has come to be a byword in the community – a bugbear with which unwise mothers try to discipline unruly children – deals with a doctor called to the home on French street to attend Miss Emma for a slight indisposition. As he stepped out of his carriage and handed the reins to his boy attendant he remarked: ”If I’m not out in 10 minutes have some one come in and see what’s the matter.” The doctor proceeded up the steps. Sitting on the veranda, where the lattice covered with heavy vines entirely concealed her, Lizzie Borden was quietly rocking. She could not have helped hearing the doctor’s remark. Whether or not that doctor ever received any further calls is not related.

Other stories maintain that the few people who did continue their friendships with Lizzie Borden were made to suffer for defying public opinion. It is claimed in many circles in Fall River that the Borden family doctor and the first outsider to reach the scene of the crime that sultry August morning 20 years ago gradually lost his practice on account of his persistent championship of Lizzie Borden.

Similar in detail is the story about a well known Fall River woman who conducted an exclusive private school in Fall River. She continued to be Lizzie Borden’s friend. One after the other mothers withdrew their sons and daughters from her care, until finally she gave up her school building which is now being used as a Dutch Reformed church, and accepted a teaching position in Georgia.

One story has it that Lizzie Borden met Nance O’Neil at a summer resort and that a warm friendship sprang up between the two women. It is generally understood that Miss O’Neil was lavishly entertained by Miss Borden at Fall River. Up to this time Miss O’Neil either had not known who Miss Borden was, or had never connected the Miss Borden with whom she was friendly with the Lizzie Borden who was tried for murder. The story continues that when Nance O’Neil found out just who her hostess was the friendship almost immediately ceased.

Murder Articles Each Year.

The real attitude of Fall River toward Lizzie Borden is perhaps best reflected in its newspapers. Every year, on the anniversary of the crimes, the Fall River Globe prints a vigorous article in regard to the murders, the perpetrator and the fact that the crimes remain an unavenged blot on the community. The articles are pointed so strongly and so openly at one and only one person as to invite suits for criminal libel, but if the woman ever sees them or hears of them, she has made no sign.

Weeks before the date – August 4 – the Globe is besieged with inquiries to know “what they are going to say this year.” The edition of the paper is sold out in quick order on that date. Certain stern, unequivocating minds in the city read the articles with grim pleasure. To their minds these articles are in the nature of a punishment, for, as the years pass, conviction as to the guilty person seems to grow stronger and stronger.

There is much speculation in Fall River in regard to the probable disposition of Lizzie Borden’s fortune at her death. As she has never married, is estranged from her sister, has apparently no logical heirs and no friends, has never interested herself in any public charity, there is a natural curiosity and a general interest in the final distribution of her wealth, which from a quarter of a million – her share of her father’s estate – is now after 20 years roughly estimated at twice that amount.

Probably never before did a murder trial create sufficient excitement and arouse such feeling as to have a 300-page history of the case written.

“Ned” Porter, a newspaper man who “covered” the trial, wrote the story, such was the demand for a detailed account of the entire proceedings. Lizzie Borden’s lawyers first succeeded in having her picture kept out of the book in spite of the fact that photographs of nearly every other person in any way connected with the trial were reproduced. 

Later the same lawyers succeeded by an act of injunction in repressing the sale of the books with the result that only a few remaining copies exist – held practically priceless by their owners and considered especially valuable as a law book. One copy is zealously guarded in the Fall River Public Library. No one is ever permitted to take the book from the building, as it is listed as one of the books that cannot be replaced.

The facts brought to light in this investigation of the 20 years of Miss Borden’s life since her acquittal were so far from favorable and flattering that it seemed only fair to give her an opportunity to state her side of these different quarrels and this universal censure.

An initial ring at the forbidding door of her home brought no response, but after long and repeated calls the inner of the two heavy doors was unlocked, unbolted and unchained. A pale-faced servant appeared at the outer door, surprise and alarm in her eyes. These numerous bolts and bars recall the situation in the old Borden home the day of the tragedy when almost every door in the house was found bolted and barred. The outer door was also unlocked, unbolted and unchained. To the natural inquiries the answer was made that Miss Borden “never sees strangers,” and would certainly have nothing to say to any newspaper either in affirmation or denial. 

Again, to offer opportunity for explanation, a call was made upon Charles C. Cook, Miss Borden’s personal representative. Mr. Cook refused absolutely to discuss or dispute any of the stories concerning his client, and disregarded entirely an opportunity given him as the man selected by Miss Borden to look after her affairs and her rights to throw any light on the unfavorable impressions which a stranger cannot help but derive from a lengthy investigation of the woman whose actions have occasioned so much adverse comment among Fall River people. 

Boston Sunday Post 13 April 1913

‘GUILTY — NO! NO!’

Lizzie Borden’s Sister Breaks 20- Year Silence

Tells the Sunday Post of Past and Present Relations With Lizzie

By Edwin J. Maguire

“Queer? Yes, Lizzie is queer. But guilty on that terrible charge made against her — no — emphatically, No! Time and again she has avowed her innocence to me, and I believe her.”

Never was the adage “blood is thicker than water” more strikingly exemplified than in this defence of Lizzie Borden, Fall River’s woman of tragedy, uttered by her sister, Emma Borden, to the Sunday Post. 

Though an estrangement has held a wall of silence between the two sisters for eight years, kinship’s ties spurred white-haired, gentle-faced Emma Borden to serve notice on the public at large, through the medium of the Sunday Post, that she believed her sister to be innocent, as declared by a jury in 1893.

And her statement is the first declaration to the outside world that either sister has made regarding that most notable murder mystery – a butchery on which the faintest light is yet to be shed.

For 20 years the Bordens have maintained a sphinx-like attitude toward the treatment accorded the acquitted woman by the world in general, and Fall River in particular. Doors of old-time family friends were closed to her following her trial on the charge of murdering Andrew J. Borden, one of the city’s wealthiest citizens, and his second wife.

Acquittal Greeted Cooly

A jury’s declaration that she was guiltless sent no wave of jubilation over the community where Lizzie Borden was born, where she had been prominent in church and social affairs, and where she had spent her entire life. Congratulations were not showered upon her by those who had been her intimate acquaintances before the trial.

Instead, the frigidity of an Arctic temperature displaced the pleasantries she had formerly known from life-long friends. Eight years ago, Emma Borden quit the spacious mansion in the French street section of the exclusive “hill district” where she and Lizzie Borden were residing, and established her home with friends. Her seeking, in this way, another home caused the estrangement between the sisters. Since Emma Borden’s departure they have never met or communicated with each other. 

But the differences that had separated the two proved weaker than the ties of birth when the Sunday Post representative visited Emma Borden and discussed with her the world’s treatment of her sister.

At first she was disinclined to talk of the subject. Then the Borden blood came into its own, and she cast aside the reserve of 20 years to take up the cudgels for Lizzie Borden.

Difference Between Sisters

And her doing so presented a forcible illustration of the contradistinctive natures of the Borden sisters.

Previously, the Sunday Post reporter had visited the splendid 14- room house where Lizzie Borden lives with her four servants, two bull terriers and three cats of the ordinary back-fence variety.

Access to the house was not allowed. The shades were drawn in all of the windows of the stately structure, the massive oak doors both in the front and rear remained securely bolted and the atmosphere of the place was one of decided seclusion. Repeated ringing of front and rear bells and knocking on the various doors brought no answer. The caller might as well have tried to gain response from a tomb.

The only signs of life came from two of Lizzie Borden’s pet squirrels that were playing havoc with a pile of peanuts placed under a tree near the house.

Heads that quickly appeared at the windows of the dwellings of the neighborhood gave indication of the interest taken in happenings in and around the Borden house.

But shortly after leaving the Borden estate, the Post man utilized the telephone. This time there came a response. The maid who answered summoned Lizzie Borden to the telephone.

“Nothing to say,” exclaimed Miss Borden, in a strong calm voice, after a request for an interview had been made.

On being urged further she fairly shouted: “Nothing, absolutely nothing to say.” Then came a decisive “bang” as she slammed the receiver back on the hook. Thus ended the conversation.

But at the residence of the late Rev. E. A. Buck, where Miss Emma Borden is making her home with the Misses Buck, the reception of the Sunday Post man contrasted with the French street visit, just as the natures of the sisters are diametrically opposite.

Lizzie Borden is now 53 years of age, is regarded by some as a woman of iron will, whose apparent disregard of the none too pleasant attention paid her when she ventures abroad is due to her phlegmatic, impassive temperament. There came no sign of emotion from her during the trial. Fall River residents say she has not given any indication of overwrought nerves in the years that have followed.

Gentle-Mannered Sister

But in Emma Borden the writer met a gentle-mannered woman who unhesitatingly led the way from the front portal of the Buck residence to the quaint parlor at the left. 

She was courtesy and gentility personified. Her tranquil face, sweet of expression and enhanced by a pink and white complexion that a debutante might envy, was crowned with heavy, snow white hair, parted in the centre and rippling to the side of the head in curly billows.

There was a look of sadness, even of resignation in Miss Borden’s large brown eyes. They seemed to reflect the sorrow and grief that were part of the heritage she received through the untimely death of her father.

A gray dress, rich in material, but unostentatious in style, bespoke the quiet retiring character of the woman. With its wide flaring skirt and old-fashioned lace trimmings, the costume impressed one as a refined rebuke to the hobble, and other latest modes of femininity.

The parlor in which the Post representative interviewed Miss Borden, seemed consecrated to the memory of the Rev. Mr. Buck who was one of the most beloved clergymen in Fall River, and who, by Emma Borden’s own statement was, “my best friend in the world, the one who advised me when matters reached such a pass that I could not stay longer in the same house with Lizzie.”

On the walls of the room which during the Rev. Mr. Buck’s lifetime had served as his study, hung framed scriptural texts and religious paintings. One of the latter was “The Last Supper.” Another art work dealt with angels and cherubs. On tables and chairs were religious volumes and pamphlets. The chairs and couch were of solid old fashioned type, whose faded buff covering did not detract one bit from a comfortable appearance.

Like A Frightful Dream

“The tragedy seems but yesterday and many times I catch myself wondering whether it is not some frightful dream, after all,” said Miss Borden in beginning her talk with the Post man.

“Often it had occurred to me how strange is the fact that no one save Lizzie was ever brought to trial for the killing of our father and our mother-in-law.

“Some persons have stated that for years they considered Lizzie’s actions decidedly queer.”

“But what if she did act queerly? Don’t we all do something peculiar at some time or other?

“Queer? Yes Lizzie is queer. But as for her being guilty, I say ‘No,’ and decidedly ‘No!’

“The day the crime took place I was at Fairhaven on a visit to friends. I hurried home in response to a telegram, and one of the first persons I met was Lizzie. She was very much affected.”

“Later, when veiled accusations began to be made, she came to me and said:

“ ‘Emma, it is awful for them to say that I killed poor father and our stepmother. You know that I would not dream of such an awful thing, Emma’

“Later, after her arrest and during her trial, Lizzie many times reiterated her protest of innocence to me.

“And after acquittal she declared her guiltlessness during conversations that we had at the French street mansion.

Proof of Innocence

“Here is the strongest thing that has impressed me of Lizzie’s innocence. The authorities never found the axe or whatever implement it was that figured in the killing.

“Lizzie, if she had done that deed could never have hidden the instrument of death so that the police could not find it. Why, there was no hiding place in the old house that would serve for effectual concealment. Neither did she have the time.

“Another thing to be remembered is Lizzie’s affection for dumb animals. She fairly dotes on the dogs, cats and squirrels that are at the French street mansion. She always was fond of pets. Now, any person with a heart like that could never have committed the awful act for which Lizzie was tried and of which she was acquitted.

“I did my duty at the trial when I sat with Lizzie day after day and then testified for her. And despite our estrangement, I am going to do my duty in answering the cruel slanders that have been made against her both in public print and by gossiping persons who seem to take delight in saying cruel things about her.

“The happenings at French street that caused me to leave I must refuse to talk about. I did not go until conditions became absolutely unbearable. Then, before taking action, I consulted the Rev. A. E. Buck who for years had been the family spiritual advisor.

“After carefully listening to my story he said it was imperative that I should make my home elsewhere.

“Before going, I had an agreement drawn up by our lawyer so that no trouble could arise regarding the French street house.

“Although the general public believes that Lizzie owns that house, such is not the case. It is our joint property, and so is the land it stands on. Under the agreement we entered into, Lizzie is to occupy the house as long as she lives, and is to pay me rent for the use of my half of the estate. Lizzie is sole owner to the land she added to the original estate.

“I do not expect ever to set foot on the place while she lives.

Mother’s Dying Request

“Perhaps people wondered why I stood so staunchly by Lizzie during the trial. I’ll tell them why. Aside from my 

feeling as a sister, it was because I constantly had in mind our dear mother. She died when Lizzie was only 2 years old, while I had reached 12 years.

“When my darling mother was on her deathbed she summoned me and exacted a promise that I would always watch over ‘baby Lizzie.’

“From childhood to womanhood and up to the time the murder occurred, I tried to safeguard Lizzie.

“And although it is not generally known, the obligation imposed on me by my mother impelled me to assume as a duty the payment of one-half the costs of that murder trial. Of course the expenses of such a case were very heavy. I stipulated before the trial was entered upon that I should pay one-half of the costs and I insisted on fulfilling my promise, after everything was over.

“I did my duty at the time of the trial, and I am still going to do it in defending my sister even though circumstances have separated us.

      “The vision of my dear mother always is bright in my mind. I want to feel that when mother and I meet in the hereafter, she will tell me that I was faithful to her trust and that I looked after ‘baby Lizzie’ to the best of my ability.”

At this point of the interview, the emotion which Miss Borden had plainly repressed at times by sheer will power would be denied no longer.

Overcome With Grief

Her soft even tones dropped almost to a moan. Then utterance was checked absolutely. Convulsive sobs shook the form of Lizzie Borden’s “little mother.”

Abruptly arising from her low rocking chair, Miss Borden slowly paced to and fro, while she pressed a black bordered handkerchief against her face.

For several minutes the paroxysm of grief continued. Then the little figure straightened slowly to dignified posture, the remaining traces of tears were removed by soft dabs of the handkerchief, and Miss Borden became quite herself once more.

“Yes,” she resumed slowly, but with clear articulation. “I intend to defend Lizzie against the harsh public so that mother will say I have been faithful to my trust.

“I have been told of the unjust stories that have appeared in print. Right here in Fall River is a newspaper that year after year, on the anniversary of the crime, publishes what I consider a most uncalled for review of the case. Just what the purpose of this practice is I do not know.

“One of the stories that has been going the rounds in connection with my sister deals with Nance O’Neil, the actress.

“This report is to the effect that Nance O’Neil met my sister in another city, became intimately acquainted with her, and maintained this friendliness until she discovered that the Lizbeth Borden she knew was none other than Lizzie Borden, the woman who had been tried on a charge of murder.

“I know such a tale to be absolutely unfounded. Nance O’Neil has for years been a close friend of Lizzie, and she holds that relation to this very day.

“Another wild rumor has to do with the family fortune. Someone who knows more about the Borden estate than I and my sister do, has declared that our combined wealth would go over the million mark.

“Now here is the truth in respect to that. If all the property that we own jointly should, through our lawyers, be turned into cash, the total amount of our worldly possessions would not go beyond one quarter of a million dollars. That is a large amount of money but is certainly less than a million.

“Some of the neighbors in and around French street who have criticized Lizzie so freely have not treated her as fairly as they might in certain things — matters of business I mean.

“Some unkind persons have spread the report that my father, despite his great wealth was niggardly and that he refused to even give us sufficient to eat.

“That is a wicked lie. He was a plain-mannered man, but his table was always laden with the best that the market could afford.

“Every Memorial Day I carry flowers to father’s grave. And Lizzie does not forget him. But she generally sends her tribute by florist.”

At this juncture, Miss Borden requested to be excused from further conversation.

As she slowly conducted the Post man to the door, she murmured, as if to herself, “Yes, a jury declared Lizzie to be innocent, but an unkind world has unrelentingly persecuted her. I am still the little mother and though we must live as strangers, I will defend ‘baby Lizzie’ against merciless tongues.”