that is interesting, I'd never heard that before. Where did this info come from? I would think someone would have reported that message from
Bridget.
DANGER in the house!
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Lee-ann
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The inscription on the back of her tombstone and her deathbed confession are new to me as well.
There is a story in at least 3 or 4 of the books on Lizzie that relate essentially the following:
This is from Spiering's book, page 229+:
"In the early 1900s Bridget reappeared in Anaconda, Montana. There she married a man with the same last name, a smelter named Sullivan. Nearby lived her girlhood friend Minnie Green.
During the forty years which followed, Bridget made no mention of the Borden murders, but in 1943 she was stricken with pneumonia and urgently summoned her friend Minnie to her bedside. She had a secret to confide before she passed away.
By the time Minnie Green arrived, Bridget had recovered. She revealed nothing."
Lincoln, in A Private Disgrace, has another version:
"The story I now give you comes from Miss Mollie O'Meara, for thirty-five years head of the Butte Public Library and now retired. She is a charming and intelligent woman with whom I enjoyed talking, and I believe her to be wholly truthful; but I must remind you that her story is essentially incapable of being checked, since she had it from Minnie Green, now dead, who had it from Bridget, who died some years before Minnie.
Minnie had been Bridget's girlhood friend. When they first came to America together, Minnie was drawn to Montana, where a wave of Irish immigrants was being attracted to the copper mines. Bridget, less venturesome, stuck by the seaboard; but they kept in touch.
Yet they did not keep altogether in touch, for Bridget wrote Minnie nothing about her part in the Borden trial, only that she had come into a little money and was going home to buy a farm, which she proceeded to do. After some time in Ireland she wrote to tell Minnie that she had learned that lonely farming was not for her. After America, it was no life at all, and with all the young men crossing the ocean, Ireland was no place to find a husband. She had decided to come out to Montana.
In Butte she met and married a young smelter, had numerous children, died in her mid-eighties, and lies buried in Mount Olivet Cemetery, in nearby Anaconda.
She kept her bargain of silence for a long time. She was quite old before she spoke of Lizzie Borden. She was gravely ill with pneumonia when she felt a desire to confide in Minnie. They were old friends, their later years had brought them close into each other's confidence, and, as Minnie told Miss O'Meara, it disturbed Bridget, lying there sick, to think that she had not been wholly candid about how she came by that windfall.
She asked Minnie to come over from Butte to see her, since she believed that she might not recover and she wanted a last sight of her dearest friend. And suddenly, her long reticence broke down and she began to talk.
She had always liked Lizzie, she told Minnie; she had always felt herself on the girl's side in the dimly understood troubles in that house. So she helped her out in the trial. And still she had not said one single word there was not true, not a word. Lizzie was thankful to her, and Lizzie's lawyer made her promise to stay in Ireland and never come back.
Well, so he'd let her change her mind, but not in any way that could do harm. Montana is a long way from Fall River, and she even took a different steamship line, one to New York, not Boston, and she came straight out to Montana by the first train, just like he wanted.
Bridget was very ill, the talking had tired her, and Minnie could get no more details that day. When she came back, Bridget had turned the corner toward recovery. She would only say that she was sorry she'd let out even so much, since she'd promised the lawyer never to say a word when she took the money, and she'd always liked Lizzie, too.
She asked Minnie not to talk about it.
Minnie did not, until after Bridget died."
There's obviously a lot of problems with what Lincoln wrote. We are currently discussing this book and it's best left there to discuss.
There is a story in at least 3 or 4 of the books on Lizzie that relate essentially the following:
This is from Spiering's book, page 229+:
"In the early 1900s Bridget reappeared in Anaconda, Montana. There she married a man with the same last name, a smelter named Sullivan. Nearby lived her girlhood friend Minnie Green.
During the forty years which followed, Bridget made no mention of the Borden murders, but in 1943 she was stricken with pneumonia and urgently summoned her friend Minnie to her bedside. She had a secret to confide before she passed away.
By the time Minnie Green arrived, Bridget had recovered. She revealed nothing."
Lincoln, in A Private Disgrace, has another version:
"The story I now give you comes from Miss Mollie O'Meara, for thirty-five years head of the Butte Public Library and now retired. She is a charming and intelligent woman with whom I enjoyed talking, and I believe her to be wholly truthful; but I must remind you that her story is essentially incapable of being checked, since she had it from Minnie Green, now dead, who had it from Bridget, who died some years before Minnie.
Minnie had been Bridget's girlhood friend. When they first came to America together, Minnie was drawn to Montana, where a wave of Irish immigrants was being attracted to the copper mines. Bridget, less venturesome, stuck by the seaboard; but they kept in touch.
Yet they did not keep altogether in touch, for Bridget wrote Minnie nothing about her part in the Borden trial, only that she had come into a little money and was going home to buy a farm, which she proceeded to do. After some time in Ireland she wrote to tell Minnie that she had learned that lonely farming was not for her. After America, it was no life at all, and with all the young men crossing the ocean, Ireland was no place to find a husband. She had decided to come out to Montana.
In Butte she met and married a young smelter, had numerous children, died in her mid-eighties, and lies buried in Mount Olivet Cemetery, in nearby Anaconda.
She kept her bargain of silence for a long time. She was quite old before she spoke of Lizzie Borden. She was gravely ill with pneumonia when she felt a desire to confide in Minnie. They were old friends, their later years had brought them close into each other's confidence, and, as Minnie told Miss O'Meara, it disturbed Bridget, lying there sick, to think that she had not been wholly candid about how she came by that windfall.
She asked Minnie to come over from Butte to see her, since she believed that she might not recover and she wanted a last sight of her dearest friend. And suddenly, her long reticence broke down and she began to talk.
She had always liked Lizzie, she told Minnie; she had always felt herself on the girl's side in the dimly understood troubles in that house. So she helped her out in the trial. And still she had not said one single word there was not true, not a word. Lizzie was thankful to her, and Lizzie's lawyer made her promise to stay in Ireland and never come back.
Well, so he'd let her change her mind, but not in any way that could do harm. Montana is a long way from Fall River, and she even took a different steamship line, one to New York, not Boston, and she came straight out to Montana by the first train, just like he wanted.
Bridget was very ill, the talking had tired her, and Minnie could get no more details that day. When she came back, Bridget had turned the corner toward recovery. She would only say that she was sorry she'd let out even so much, since she'd promised the lawyer never to say a word when she took the money, and she'd always liked Lizzie, too.
She asked Minnie not to talk about it.
Minnie did not, until after Bridget died."
There's obviously a lot of problems with what Lincoln wrote. We are currently discussing this book and it's best left there to discuss.
I know I ask perfection of a quite imperfect world
And fool enough to think that's what I'll find
And fool enough to think that's what I'll find
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snokkums
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danger in the house
Maybe they didn't think there was any danger or that they didn't think they would be charged with anything because they felt they were innocent.