When Americans sought comfort in Spiritualism: Part 2
William Mumler, P.T. Barnum and Mary Lincoln
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Release Date: October 28, 2025
The birth of “spirit photography”
In the early days of America’s Civil War, Boston’s William Mumler, a jewelry engraver and amateur photographer, developed an interesting, unexpected self-portrait in the darkroom of an acquaintance, Mrs. Stewart. Beside his own image, there appeared another – lighter, less distinct, hazy. An older man, perhaps. It was hard to tell as his features were diffused. Bearded.
After spending some time with the odd photo, William set it aside.
At some later point — the story gets confused and varied here, someone took note of the strange photo. In some accounts it was William’s wife, Hannah, who was a self-styled “clairvoyant physician” said to be attended by the spirit of Dr. Benjamin Rush of Philadelphia; in other accounts it was a series of friends or photo gallery owners over a period of time
Whomever it was, the idea was planted that the image in the photo could be a ghost, a spirit, a visitor from the after world. William’s deceased cousin, perhaps?
Whether the suggestion was made in jest or sincerity is unknown. What is known is that it sparked in the entrepreneurial William an idea: He would hang his shingle as a “’spirit photographer”, and sell his services to grieving, mourning and vulnerable parents, siblings, children and friends desperate to communicate with their lost loved ones, especially those lost on the battlefields of a divided nation.
The timing could not have been better. Spiritualism was quickly gaining ground across America, and had already accumulated a loyal following throughout New England. Local newspaper ad pages were filled with notices and announcements. Promises and hope.
And so, William went into business as an entirely novel kind of photographer, one who specialized in photographing spirits.
Customers — sometime spiritualists, sometimes skeptics or investigators, more often than not someone who had lost a loved one, would come into the studio and be met by either Hannah Mumler or one of William’s assistants.
Questions would be asked and answered:
Is there a guarantee that a spirit will appear in my photo? No.
Can I get a photo taken with Great Aunt Martha, or someone of my choosing? No.
A standard line would be given: If there is a spirit in the area, and if that spirit feels some sympathy toward the person sitting for the photograph, then the spirit will be photographed. Otherwise, no spirit and money back guarantees.
Then the offer would be issued: Ten dollars for a dozen photographs. Why so much? Because “the spirits did not like a throng and to exclude the vulgar multitude the price was fixed at that high rate.” 1
There would be some room for negotiations, perhaps a small discount if the person who’d come in for the sitting seemed like someone who would “be successful” in gaining the cooperation of a sympathetic spirit.
Once the business end of things had been conducted, Hannah or the assistant would go upstairs to the actual photo studio and get things ready.
After a wait of sometimes fifteen to thirty minutes, the customer would be called upstairs. William would be there, as would Hannah.
William would nearly always be open to questions, and, as time and patience allowed, customers could even physically inspect the camera and the studio walls, and even the photographic plates and darkroom before taking their place in front of the camera.
William would place his hand on the top or sometimes side of the camera, cover his head with a black cloth, warn the customer of the impending burst of light, and a series of ten photos would be taken.
And then the customer would wait expectantly. Would there be a familiar form in the photograph? Some sort of sign? Had their hard-earned money been wasted?
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A familiar face in the frame
When spirits did appear in photos, more often than not they were familiar, or at least seemed familiar.
In early 1869, David A. Hopkins went into William’s New York City studio as a skeptic. In his opinion, the photographer was a cheat, a scammer. Yet, the moment David opened his packet of photos, his mind was changed: There, with his own eyes, he could see a face he recognized. Not a family member, but a little girl he remembered.
“She lived in the house with my wife’s sister; I saw her several times, but don’t think I ever spoke to her, I had not seen her for a year and a half or two years before she died.”
To make sure he was correct in his recollection, David took the photo to his own family, and then to several neighbors who knew the little girl when she was alive, “all of whom recognized [her] and not one of whom suggested that [the spirit] be anyone else.”
When asked if his experience with spirit photography made him a spiritualist, David had this to say:
“I can only say that I am sworn on the Bible to tell the truth; the Bible is full of spiritualism; I would have to throw the Bible away not to believe In spiritualism; I have witnessed some vague manifestations; it is tangible to me that manifestations were spiritually made and that the spiritualists took meals the same as in the ties of Lot and Abraham.” 2

The hope of a grieving nation
Among those who took advantage of William’s unconventional occupation of photographing cooperative spirits was former first lady, Mary Lincoln. In early 1872, seven years after the April 14, 1865 assassination of her husband, a decade after the death of their 11-year-old son, Willie, and within months of the 1871 death of their youngest son, 18-year-old Thomas (Tad), the Widow Lincoln traveled from her home in Illinois to New York City.
Likely hoping to avoid detection, unwanted publicity, and perhaps bias, Mary gave Hannah Mumler a false name before she sat for her photograph. Her identity was only revealed later, when the photos were developed and the image of Abraham Lincoln’s spirit revealed itself on one of those.
Mary Lincoln was no stranger to Spiritualism. Following Willie’s death in 1862, the grieving mother sought comfort from those who claimed connections to the afterworld, and was said to have hosted at least eight seances inside the White House. She was also known to be a regular attendee at so-called “spirit circles” like those held at the Banner of Light offices in New York City which often featured Fannie Conant.
No doubt, Mary had endured more loss than many of her countrymen, at least prior to the Civil War. She was just six when her mother, Elizabeth, died in childbirth, and she watched four of her five children die of disease and infection. Then, of course, she was at her husband’s side that fateful day in 1865 when he was assassinated during a performance at Ford’s Theatre. At the moment of impact, Mary was holding Abe’s hand, his blood stained her silk dress and black veil.
Upon her husband’s tragic and sudden death, Mary went into perpetual mourning, and actively sought any confirmation that he and her loved ones were at peace.
Even if those confirmations were held with sharp disregard and heavy ridicule by so many. 3
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The circus comes to court
In the early spring of 1869, a man claiming to be Mr. Bowditch walked into William Mumler’s studio at 630 Broadway in New York City, and requested a sitting. He went through the onboarding process, asked questions of both the famed photographer and his assistant, and inspected the equipment, all preambles which other customers of William’s spirit photography business often went through before committing their hard earned cash to the experience. But Mr. Bowditch was no ordinary customer. In truth, he was Joseph Tucker, a marshal with the New York City police department, and he was in William’s studio to gather evidence of fraud. 4
A few weeks later, William Mumler was charged with criminal fraud and larceny by means of manufactured spirit photographs.
William’s trial was held at the Tombs, and began on March 22.
And it was a spectacle.
A cohort of female mediums successfully petitioned Judge Rhadamanthus Dowling to allow them access to the gallery, stating:
“We desire, without interference upon your duties’ that suitable accommodation may be granted to us of the ‘weaker sex’ who wish to be present at this, the first time that our belief has been made the subject of judicial determination. Let me say to you that a great responsibility rests upon you, and your decision which will no doubt be given after a careful consideration of the subject, will be looked after by the spiritual world with more than ordinary anxiety.” 5
More than a dozen witnesses were called, many of whom were professional photographers, scientists or otherwise qualified to address the possible ways William inserted so-called “spirits” into otherwise ordinary photographs.
Then came perhaps the greatest showman of his time, the man who had introduced Americans to Joice Heth as the 161-year-old nursemaid of George Washington, and an ordinary horse with a fabricated coat as a mysterious “woolly horse” discovered in the American West.
When P. T. Barnum walked into the courtroom to take the stand, the crowd buzzed with anticipation.
At least according to Barnum, he and William weren’t exactly strangers. Years early, Barnum claimed he’d purchased several spirit photographs from William to exhibit at his American Museum, and that the two had exchanged letters for a period. For his part, William denied ever having corresponded with the showman, or knowingly providing him with spirit photographs.
Whatever the truth was, Barnum had recently begun to dedicate much of his time to exposing deceptions, hoaxes and nonsense, to shining light on what he called humbugs.
He knew a humbug when he saw one, and he definitely saw one in William’s spirit photography business. In fact, in his 1866 book, Humbugs of the World, Barnum had even mentioned William, if not by name, then assuredly by humbug:
“Mothers came to the room of the artist, and gratefully retired with ghostly representations of departed little ones. Widows came to purchase the shades of their departed husbands. Husbands visited the photographer and procured the spectral pictures of their dead wives. Parents wanted the phantom-portraits of their deceased children. Friends wished to look upon what they believed to be the lineaments of those who had long since gone to the spirit-land. All who sought to look on those pictures were satisfied with what had been shown them, and, by conversation on the subject, increased the number of visitors. In short, every person who heard about this mystery determined to verify the wonderful tales related, by looking upon the ghostly lineaments of some person, who, they believed, inhabited another sphere.” 6
In his testimony, Barnum said he’d even visited Mumler’s studio and requested a sitting.
“I told him I wanted a spirit photograph taken. But that I didn’t want any humbug about it. I examined his operations thoroughly, but I couldn’t detect no fraud on his part, although I watched him closely.”
Much to Barnum’s surprise, when the photograph was developed, the spirit image of Abraham Lincoln was visible, although Barnum noted he’d not felt any “spiritual presence,” and, having seen plenty of “spooks” as a boy, he would surely have felt something if one had actually been in the room.
Sidenote: Although the Great Showman claimed in court William had taken the photo in which Lincoln appeared, the truth was quite another thing: Barnum had hired a New York daguerreotypes named Abraham Bogardus to create the double exposure image.
After several more questions, including about his own history with what many would call humbugs, Barnum ended his testimony like the entertainer he was:
“I asked [Mumler] to bring down the spirit of Joice Heth, Washington’s nurse, but he said he could not do it, as it was late in the day, and his stock of vitality was nearly exhausted; he offered to bring her down in the spirit form today, and I think he would have done it had I called on him; I should like to renew my acquaintance with the old lady.”
To which the gallery, and not a few court officials, erupted in a burst of laughter and applause. 7
By Monday, May 3, closing arguments in William’s fraud and larceny trial were heard.
In front of a packed courtroom, the accused read a lengthy and heartfelt statement, in which he denied all charges and pled his innocence:
I solemnly assert here that I have now but comparatively little knowledge of photography, or chemicals or science of any kind, further than is absolutely needed to take ordinary photographic pictures. I positively assert that in taking the pictures of which these forms appear, I have never used any trick or device, or availed myself of any deception or fraud in producing them; that these forms have appeared in each and every instance when they have been presented without any effort, except my will power to produce them.
Next attorneys for the prosecution made their case. They painstakingly reviewed all the testimony, pointed out inconsistencies and called for justice.
“Now, what does all this prove? Why, that the trick was so cleverly done that not even photographers could discover how it was done. That very many persons of ordinary intellect, competent to conduct every day business of life, went to the prisoner, paid their money, received these spirit photographs, and, fancied they recognized likenesses of their departed friend, and therefore believed the prisoner’s statement.
“There is no proof of any spiritual agency, only evidence that certain persons believe it exists. Man is naturally superstitious, and in all ages of the world, imposters and cheats have taken advantage of credulity to impose on their fellows less sharp than themselves.” 8
Finally, Judge Dowling, having listened to both sides, handed down his decision: although he might personally believe that trick and deception had been practiced, he had heard no legal justification for the fraud and larceny cases to move forward.
All charges were dismissed. William Mumler was a free man.
William continued to practice spirit photography for several more years, before eventually transitioning in to a less contentious side of the business. Considering his statements that he had only a rudimentary understanding of the science behind photography, he went on to invent a process which bears his name, and made it possible to produce and print photo-electrotype plates more easily.
William died May 16, 1884 at the age of 51, but his spirit photographs live on, including at the Getty Museum, where the largest public domain collection of them is available to view in person and online.
Copyright 2025 Lori Olson White
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End Notes
1 “Ghosts in Photography: Mayor Hall Sends their Ghostships to the Tombs,” The New York Herald, New York, NY, April 13, 1896, P. 1.
2 “Spirit Photography: Marhsall Tooker’s Ghostly Raid, Further Interesting Developments. Prospero Mumler and his Gentle Ariel in Court. AN Unsubstantial Pageant,” New York Herald, New York, NY, April 24, 169, P. 4.
3 Alexandra Kommel, “Seances in the Red Room: How Spiritualism Comforted the Nation During and After the Civil War,” The White House Historical Association, April 24, 2019. (https://www.whitehousehistory.org/seances-in-the-red-room)
4 “Ghosts in Photography: Mayor Hall Sends their Ghostships to the Tombs,” The New York Herald, New York, NY, April 13, 1896, P. 1.
5 “The Spiritual Photograph Case – a letter to Justice Dowling,” The New York Times, New York, NW, April 21, 1869, P 10.
6 P. T. Barnum, “Humbugs of the World: An Account of Humbugs, Delusions, Impositions, Quackeries, Deceits, and Deceivers Generally, in All Ages,” Carlton Publishers, New York, NY, 1866, P. 109-119.
7 “Spirit Photographs: Continuation of the Mumler Investigation – Theology and Sun Pictures – Barnim on Humbugs and Spooks – Interesting Testimony – The Evidence is all in,” New York Times, New York, NY, April 29, 1869, P. 5.
8 “Spiritualism in Court: Arguments in the Spirit Photography Case – Mumler Discharged,” New York Tribune, New York, NY, May 4, 1869, P. 2.







I'm fascinated by the Mumler photographs. It is still hard for me to realize how mainstream and popular the Spiritualist Movement was back then. I've been fascinated by the story of Helena Blavatsky, the co-founder of the Theosophical Society, who lived in Ithaca NY. The Fox sisters were also from the Finger Lakes.
Yesterday I noticed a beautiful red maple leaf suspended in mid-air in my front lawn. It started swaying and dipping as though dancing with me. I grabbed my phone and took a video, but the video file is so large I can't get it off my phone! That's when I felt the woo-woo and thought about your posts about the spiritualist movement.
Absolutely fascinating — and fun! Another extraordinary romp through the archives, Lori. Thank you. I'm reminded of the post-mortem photographs that were not uncommon at the time as a form of memorialization. To our modern sensibilities, they can be a little gruesome, yet at a time when death was so much a part of daily life, maybe not so much. In trying to remember the term, I ran across this collection at the UofM (https://clements.umich.edu/exhibit/death-in-early-america/post-mortem-photo-types/)