Robert Todd Lincoln --The vitals

[kerry]

I don't know what to think of Keckley's claims. Her later interviews are interesting. I do think it is very plausible that Lincoln told Mary something like that, because she was in very bad shape and probably harming herself -- that is what paroxysm hints at. He framed it as a "we" will have to put you there thing, and he tried to reason with her; he didn't spring it on her, and apparently she regained control and was not resentful. So I see that as a very different approach from what Robert did. I think it's very possible Lincoln and Mary discussed her mental health issues and it was agreed that he'd do his best to kind of cover for her/look the other way, and get her back on track. I don't think she was in denial that she sometimes lost control - but I think she wanted Robert to take that approach. I'd like to see the full clipping that Burlingame and Emerson cite about him talking to the Capitol prison guy about Mary's mental state.

Keckley's later interviews included the following:

"She confirmed all the stories about Mary’s extravagance, and said the facts were worse, perhaps, than the public ever knew. As the wife of the President, she had unlimited credit with Stewart, in New York, and also owed nearly $30,000 at one time, exceeding the President’s annual salary. Once she declared, “The Republican politician shall pay my debts. They are becoming rich from patronage given by my husband and I will demand of them that they pay my debts.” Keckly declined to say whether this threat was carried out or not."

She implies, as I have suspected, that the Old Clothes thing was not a completely losing game financially, and that she did get some hush money, and that aggravated Keckly, who wasn't compensated. She wrote the book in response, but it didn't seem unflattering. Still, she claims that much of the stuff was added in by the editors, but doesn't say what. So it's hard to know what is true. Her motives are unclear.
The article declared the book was "mysteriously suppressed." Speaking of the book, Keckly said:

“I never intended to write that book, and, in fact, I never wrote it. What I wanted to do was to tell the simple story of my life, my days of slavery, my freedom, my acquaintance with the big officials . . . the proceeds of the sale to go toward rebuilding Wilberforce University . . . To tell the reason for my being in New York where the book was written embodies a tragic story, which I would rather not tell, but now, as I am almost done with life, I think I should tell the truth of the matter and set myself right before the world. ... Before leaving New York she implored me to watch her every interest, saying she would make me comfortable for the rest of my life. ... She never realized much of anything from the sales. After she returned to Chicago, Mrs. Lincoln wrote me the most affectionate letters, but the fact confronted me that I was without a penny in my pocket with which to board myself, and that my business in Washington was utterly ruined. I secured some sewing in the family of a well-known physician in New York, and . . . fell to telling the little incidents of life in the White House . . . To this family I told my desire to help my race by rebuilding Wilberforce University. It was suggested to me that I have a lecture prepared for me, telling of my experiences in the White House, and that I go on a regular lecturing tour, carrying with me . . . the relics . . . even the ghastly, blood-stained cloak. At last I became accustomed to the thought, and concluded to accept the advice and offer of help from others. As all the proceeds of the lecture would go to Wilberforce University, I determined to write the little book I have mentioned, and sell it for my own benefit. My own education had been much neglected, and when the doctor offered to secure the services of an amanuensis for me, I gladly accepted . . . This was the very first step of that much regretted authorship which was shouldered upon me. ...The chapters of the book were read to me. Though there was often a more frank statement of some little affair that was altogether necessary, there was still nothing harmful. I must say now, after all the intervening years, that I was justified if a little bitter. . . . Much that was written and read to me, I have asked to have cut out, and much of the story was not read to me at all. ...
“‘I was excited in their telling, but should not have been printed. I knew afterward that in reading the copy too much was omitted in the reading that was actually in the copy, and had I known it in time, it should never have been printed. I never intended that Mrs. Lincoln's letters to me should be published. I was a stranger to my new friends, and lest my story might be doubted, I gave the the letters as proof--simply for the amanuensis, and the doctor to read, and my surprise was unbounded when I found that they formed an appendix to "Behind the Scenes." Then followed hours of the bitterest anguish and despair, and I did not know what to do. I tried to recall them, but it was too late. These letters were the heart cries of a frantic woman to one whom she loved and trusted, and nothing on earth could have induced me to so far forget her confidence as to give them to the world--that world that seemed always ready to scoff at this faulty, but loving woman. After that, I wrote an introduction . . . Money had been advanced to me . . . thus placing me in the hands of those who seemed to be trying to serve me, but alas. . . had only tried to fill their own pockets by filching from me the pitiful story . . . The doctor wrote informing me that my amanuensis had engaged a teacher in elocution to coach me in the assassination scene, preparatory to going on a tour through the country. I was not dramatic in temperament, and I had never been so, yet the slightest thought or mention of the day following the assassination would throw me into a fearful state of nervous excitement. My dresses were ready, and I was to tour the country in company with the ghastly blood-stained garments--the cloak worn by Mrs Lincoln . . . and her bonnet . . . along with other relics . . . The very thought of it was too gruesome for even the minds of the curious public, and suddenly decide to, once end for all, stop the terribly irreverent tour,..."

In another interview, she said she had respected Lincoln's memory by not telling many things. She was also asked if Mary was crazy (in 1879) and replied "not anymore than she ever was." She said they got in touch "indirectly" before Mary's death. They both knew the Bradwells, so they may have been what she meant, but I think it's possible she was talking about spiritualistic communication. She claims she omitted key stuff and they added key stuff, so the accuracy is impossible to pin down.

And the letters published in Behind the Scenes are heavily redacted at parts. Which is interesting, given the very personal stuff that was revealed.