Lincoln, the unknown

220 •LINCOLN THE UNKNOWNshred of the blanket left; souvenir-hunters had stripped himbare. And, like buzzards, they swooped down upon the emptyhearse, snatching at the draperies and fighting over it untilsoldiers charged them with bayonets.For five weeks after the assassination Mrs. Lincoln lay weepingin the White House, refusing to leave her chamber nightor day.Elizabeth Keckley, who was at her bedside during all thistime, wrote:I shall never forget the scene. The wails of a brokenheart, the unearthly shrieks, the terrible convulsions, thewild, tempestuous outbursts of grief from the soul. I bathedMrs. Lincoln's head with cold water, and soothed the terribletornado as best I could.Tad's grief at his father's death was as great as the griefof his mother, but her terrible outbursts awed the boy intosilence. . . .Often at night, when Tad would hear her sobbing, hewould get up, and come to her bed in his white sleepingclothes:"Don't cry, Mamma; I can't sleep if you cry! Papawas good, and he has gone to Heaven. He is happy there.He is with God and brother Willie. Don't cry, Mamma,or I will cry too."