Lincoln, the unknown

LINCOLN THE UNKNOWN • 245criticizing them, declaring that they were out of style, that theywere absurdly high-priced, that they were "worn" and "jaggedunder the arms and at the bottom of the skirts," and had "stainson the lining."Brady & Keyes also opened a subscription-book at theirstore, hoping that if the sightseers would not buy they mightdonate money for Mrs. Lincoln.Finally in despair, the merchants took her clothes and jewelsto Providence, Rhode Island, intending to set up an exhibitionand charge twenty-five cents admission. The city authoritieswouldn't hear of it.Brady & Keyes did finally sell eight hundred and twenty-fourdollars' worth of her effects, but they charged eight hundredand twenty dollars for their services and expenses.Mrs. Lincoln's campaign to raise money for herself not onlyfailed, it also brought upon her a storm of public condemnation.Throughout the campaign she made a disgraceful exhibitionof herself—and so did the public.She "has dishonored herself, her country and the memory ofher late lamented husband," cried the Albany "Journal."She was a liar and a thief—such was the accusation broughtagainst her by Thurlow Weed in a letter to the "CommercialAdvertiser."For years, back in Illinois, she had been "a terror to thevillage of Springfield," her "eccentricities were common talk,"and "the patient Mr. Lincoln was a second Socrates within hisown dwelling"—so thundered the "Hartford Evening Press."But the "Journal" of Springfield stated editorially that for yearsit had been known that she was deranged, and that she shouldbe pitied for all her strange acts."That dreadful woman, Mrs. Lincoln," complained theSpringfield, Massachusetts, "Republican," "insists on thrustingher repugnant personality before the world to the great mortificationof the nation."Mortified by these attacks, Mrs. Lincoln poured out herbroken heart in a letter to Mrs. Keckley:Robert came up last evening likea maniac and almostthreatening his life, looking like death because the lettersof "The World" were published in yesterday's paper. . . .I weep whilst I am writing. I pray for death this morning.Only my darling Taddie prevents my taking my life.