Day 47. April 16, 1862.
47
long broad black serpents slowly undulating in every direction….
-Wensday 16-
Quite a fine morning and the birds are singing and has all appearance of a fine day and the mud is drying up very much. I received a letter from Mrs MM B today and they were all [missing word] and I hope I may arrive home again there to live in quietness and peace
Note: 1865:
The Most Fearful Ordeal: Original Coverage of the Civil War by Writers and Reporters of the New York Times Introduction and Notes by James McPherson P. 542-543
“WASHINGTON APRIL 16.
THE LAST HOURS OF THE PRESIDENCY.
As everything pertaining to the last hours of the late President must be interesting to the public, the following incidents of the last day of his life have been obtained from several sources.
His son, Capt. LINCOLN, breakfasted with him on Friday morning, having just returned from the capitulation of LEE, and the President passed a happy hour listening to all the details. While at breakfast he heard that Speaker COLFAX was in the house, and sent word that he wished to see him immediately in the reception room. He conversed with him nearly an hour about his future policy as to the rebellion, which he was about to submit to the Cabinet. Afterwards he had an interview with Mr. HALE, Minister to Spain, and several Senators and Representatives.
At 11 o’clock the Cabinet and Gen. GRANT met with him, and in one of those most satisfactory and important Cabinet meetings held since his first inauguration, the future policy of the Administration was harmoniously and unanimously agreed on. When he adjourned Secretary STANTON said he felt that the government was stronger than at any previous period since the rebellion commenced.
In the afternoon the President had a long and pleasant interview with Gen. OGELSBY, Senator YATES, and other leading citizens of his State.
In the evening Mr. COLFAX called again, at his request, and Mr. ASHMUN, of Massachusetts, who presided over the Chicago Convention of 1860, was present. To them he spoke of his visit to Richmond; and when they stated that there was much uneasiness at the North while he was at the rebel capital, for fear that some traitor might shoot him, he replied jocularly that he would have been alarmed himself if any other person had been President and gone there, but that he did not feel any danger whatever. Conversing on the matter of business with Mr. ASHMUN, he made a remark that he saw Mr. ASHMUN was surprised at; and immediately with his well-known kindness of heart said, “You did not understand me, ASHMUN, I did not mean what you inferred, and I will take it all back and apologize for it.” He afterward gave Mr. ASHMUN a card to admit himself and friend early the next morning, to converse further about it.
Turning to Mr. COLFAX he said: “You are going with Mrs. LINCOLN and me to the theatre, I hope.” But Mr. COLFAX had other engagements, expecting to leave the city the next morning.
He then said to Mr. COLFAX, “Mr. SUMNER has the gavel of the Confederate Congress, which he got at Richmond, to hand to the Secretary of War. But I insisted then that he must give it to you; and you tell him for me to hand it over.” Mr. ASHMUN alluded to the gavel which he still had, and which he had used at the Chicago Convention, and the President and Mrs. LINCOLN, who was also in the parlor, rose to go to the theatre. It was half an hour after the time they had intended to start, and they spoke about waiting half an hour longer, for the President went with reluctance, as Gen. GRANT had gone North, and he did not wish the people to be disappointed, as they had both been advertised to be there. At the door he stopped, and said: “COLFAX, do not forget to tell the people in the mining region as you pass through them, what I told you this morning about the development, when peace comes, and I will telegraph you at San Francisco.” He shook hands with both gentlemen with a pleasant good-bye, and left the Executive Mansion, never to return to it alive.”
Note: Whitman walks around Broadway, sees the half-staff flags, the black bunting, crepe, all things black running in place in the wind, “Lincoln’s death—black, black, black— as you look toward the sky— long broad black serpents slowly undulating in every direction.”
(Last stanza of Whitman’s piece)
“THE STUPOR PASSES—SOMETHING ELSE BEGINS: (Of all the days of the war, there are two especially I can never forget. Those were the days following the news, in New York and Brooklyn, of that first Bull Run defeat, and the day of Abraham Lincoln’s death. I was home in Brooklyn on both occasions. The day of the murder we heard the news very early in the morning. Mother prepared breakfast—and other meals afterwards—as usual; but not a mouthful was eaten all day by either of us. We each drank half a cup of coffee; that was all. Little was said. We got every newspaper morning and evening, and the frequent extras of that period, and pass’d them silently to each other.)” Whitman Poetry and Prose Walt Whitman Penguin Putnam Inc. P. 711-712
Abraham Lincoln: The Prairie Years Carl Sandburg 1954 P. 725
“Sherman on his way to a conference with the Confederate General Joseph E. Johnston had a decoded telegram handed him from Stanton: “President Lincoln was murdered about 10 o’clock last night.” Sherman pledged the operator to say nothing to anyone of the telegram. When Sherman and Johnston sat alone in a small farmhouse, Sherman handed him over the telegram. Johnston read. On his forehead slowly came sweat “in large drops,” as Sherman watched him, Sherman remembering so clearly and for so long a time afterward how one of the greatest of Confederate captains said that “Mr. Lincoln was the best friend they had” and the assassination was “the greatest possible calamity to the South.” In the surrender terms they were to sign, Sherman’s motive, according to his keenest interpreter, probably ranged around a thought: “Lincoln is dead. I will make his kind of peace.” When later the dread news was given to Sherman’s army, many were ready to burn the city of Raleigh to the ground. Logan made speeches against it, other officers intervened, and discipline prevailed.”
Raising the White Flag: How Surrender Defined the American Civil War David Silkenat P. 228-229
“When Sherman returned to Raleigh that evening, he found rumors of Lincoln’s assassination rife among the ranks and instructed his officers to suppress any retaliation that soldiers might unleash on Raleigh’s civilian population. Hoping to dispel any errant rumors, Sherman issued Special Field Order 56, informing his men of President Lincoln’s assassination and the attack on Secretary Seward. Although some threatened “to exterminate the South race” in vengeance, Union soldiers demonstrated remarkable restraint. Despite angry words uttered that night, both Union and Confederate sources indicate that Sheridan’s men chose not to channel their rage against Raleigh’s civilians. Nonetheless, Sherman notes that “I saw and felt that one single word by me would have laid the city in ashes, and turned its whole population houseless upon the country, if not worse.” Raleigh residents felt the same tension; one noted that “hundreds of people sat up during the entire night, expecting every moment mob violence.’”
Abraham Lincoln: The Prairie Years Carl Sandburg 1954 P. 725
“The New York Herald on Easter Sunday, April 16, editorialized on the press as no factor of enlightenment, no sobering influence at all. It said directly that newspaper editors shared guilt of leading an assassin toward his bloody work: “It is clear as day that the real origin of this dreadful act is to be found in the fiendish and malignant spirit developed and fostered by the rebel press North and South. That press has, in the most devilish manner, urged men to the commission of this very deed.’”
Party spirit and its mouthpieces, the press, the politicians and orators, came in for blame from Harper’s Weekly. Directly and indirectly, openly and cunningly, the passions of men were set on fire by “the assertion that Mr. Lincoln was responsible for the war, that he had opened all the yawning graves and tumbled the victims in . . . Is it surprising that somebody should have believed all this, that somebody should have said, if there is a tyranny it can not be very criminal to slay the tyrant?’”
P. 727-728
Thousands and thousands would remember as long as they lived the exact place where they had been standing or seated or lying down when the news came to them, recalling precisely in details and particulars where they were and what they were doing when the dread news arrived.
Hundreds of thousands there were who had been the foundation and groundwork of what he had done. These people– the basic Lincoln loyalist legion– had no words; they had only grief– sorrow beyond words. “A stricken people came to their altars.” Whatever was sensitively and humanly aware wore crape, seen or unseen.
Far out on the rolling prairie of the Iowa frontier, a farmer rode a fast horse and shouted from the saddle, first to this neighbor and then the next. “Lincoln is shot!” or “Lincoln is dead– shot in a theater!” That was all. The rider was gone. They had heard him. They stood in their foot tracks, amazed, dumbstruck, sadly waited for further news, some saying, “What will the country do now?”
On an early morning streetcar in Philadelphia a good Quaker unrolled a morning newspaper, stared at it, and broke out: “My God! What is this? Lincoln is assassinated!”In the gray dawn on this streetcar men cupped their faces in their hands and on the straw-covered floor fell hot tears. The driver of the streetcar came in to make sure of what he heard. Then the driver went out and took the bells off his horses. And he drove on with his car filled with mourners, some silent, some sobbing.
Newsboys at their stands cried no headlines, handed the damp sheets from the press to the buyers, one boy noticed as he brushed with his dirt hand the tears from his dirty cheeks. In thousands of stores the merchants told the clerks they would close for the day; in many schools the sobbing teacher could only tell the children, “Go home, there will be no school today.” The father, the children, coming home unexpected, the mother asked what was wrong and heard “Mama, they’ve killed the President” or “Our President is dead.” Then the family hunted up crape or black cloth for the front doorway.
In Charleston, South Carolina, one old black woman walked a street looking straight ahead, wringing her hands and crying: “O Lawd! O Lawd! Marsw Sam’s dead! O Lawd! Uncle Sam’s dead!” In Boston a thousand or more men found themselves on the Common, marching in a silent procession, two by two, not a word spoken, just walking, just seeing each other’s faces, marching an hour or so and then slowly scattering, having reached some form of consolation in being together, seeing each other in mute grief.
In a home in Huntington, Long Island, a mother and son, Walt Whitman, heard the news early in the morning, sat at breakfast and ate nothing, sat at other meals during the day and ate nothing, silently passed newspaper extras to each other during the day and said little, the son deciding that as long as he lived he would on April 14 have sprigs of lilac in his room and keep it as a holy day for the man he later characterized as “the grandest figure on the crowded canvas of the drama of the nineteenth-century.’”
P. 731-732
In black-border crape typography, in editorial comment, letters, poetical effusions, the newspapers went along with the public grief. The weekly periodicals, the monthly magazines, these too wore crape in the national mood. An issue of the New York Herald with its remarkable extended biographical sketch and its thorough news coverage in Washington sold out 15 minutes after its arrival. The price for an obtainable copy in Washington next day was $10. Under the heading “The Great Crime—Abraham Lincoln’s Place in History” the Herald on April 17 published a shrewd and lavish portrayal. He was a new figure. All other nations of the human family would study him “as the type man of a new dynasty of nation-rulers,” holding that “the best and strongest rule for every intelligent people is a government to be created by the popular will, and choosing for itself the representative instrument who is to carry out its purposes.” Gravely the Herald, naturally conservative though responsive to both property rights and human movements, noted: “The triumph of the democratic principle over the aristocratic in our recent contest is an assurance that time has revolved this old earth on which we live into a new and perhaps happier– perhaps sadder– era.’”
Note: Here is an April 15, 1865 copy of the New York Herald (4¢) that Dr. Hays has in his personal papers stored at the U.S. Army Heritage and Education Center (Carlisle, PA.). One front page headline read “THE REBELS. JEFF. DAVIS AT DANVILLE. HIS LATEST APPEAL TO HIS DELUDED FOLLOWERS. Thinks the Fall of Richmond a Blessing in Disguise, as it Leaves the Rebel Armies Free to Move From Point to Point.” https://emu.usahec.org/alma/multimedia/170221/20182819MN000052.pdf
Marching with Sherman: Passages from the Letters and Campaign Diaries of Henry Hitchcock, Major and Assistant Adjutant General of Volunteers, November 1864–May 1865 (1927) Major Henry Hitchcock P. 306-307
(Excerpts of letter to Mrs. Hitchcock)
IN CHESAPEAKE BAY
ON BOARD DISPATCH BOAT “M. MARTIN”
Sat: April 22/65– 1.2 M
“I write this at a disadvantage, visible enough from the shaky handwriting, thanks to the vibrations of the boat, which is going at full speed. We have had a very pleasant sail thus far, the day being lovely, and the water smooth, and expect to be at Fortress Monroe by or before 4 P.M., where I shall mail this. Another steamer will be ready there to take us to Morehead City or Newbern, and we shall doubtless be in Raleigh by or before daylight Monday morning. By the way, I was glad to find that though the propeller on which I came from Morehead City to Fort Monroe on Wednesday rolled very noticeably and we came by the “outside route,” on the open ocean, I was not the least seasick.
I have said nothing about the horrible assassination of Mr. Lincoln, though here as everywhere it is the topic of all thought. Whether it was the result of a conspiracy or the act of a single fanatic, it was but the legitimate fruit of the rebellion itself, and intrinsically but its logical concrete expression. Perhaps it was necessary, as some think, that by some such act as this should be made visible to all the true guilt of those who assailed the life of the nation with a purpose no less deadly, by means no less cruel and cowardly, when rightly judged, than those of the assassin who shed the blood of that most kindly, patient, loving man. I can hardly convey to you the horror and deep indignation which the tidings brought to our army. Gen. Sherman learned it by telegram on Monday morning 17th, but did not disclose it till the afternoon, after his first interview with Johnston—except to Johnston himself, who expressed the deepest concern and regret, on the account of the South itself. He clearly saw what a terrible disaster it was to them. I was told when we returned to Raleigh that night, that the soldiers stood around in the camps, in little squads, silent or talking in subdued but bitter tones, and many of them weeping like children, after they heard it. I heard officers who, I know, always denounced and strove against violence and outrages in our marches through Georgia and South Carolina swear in bitter terms that if our army moved again they would never spare nor protect another house or family. The Commanding officer at Raleigh instantly doubled all his guards (protecting the citizens) that night. Still, I am glad to say no violence occurred, nor will any; our men are too well disciplined, and even those officers who feel most acknowledge that indiscriminate vengeance is not to be thought of. You will notice Sherman’s order announcing the murder indirectly cautions against this; he himself feared mischief from it at first. . . .”
The Most Fearful Ordeal: Original Coverage of the Civil War by Writers and Reporters of the New York Times Introduction and Notes by James McPherson P. 340
“MAUNSELL B. FIELD.
———
THE GREAT CALAMITY.
———
WASHINGTON, APRIL 16.
THE CORPSE.
The corpse of the late President has been laid out in the room known as the “guests’ room,” northwest wing of the White House. It is dressed in the suit of black clothes worn by him at his late Inauguration. A placid smile rests upon his features, and the deceased seems to be in a calm sleep. White flowers have been placed upon the pillow and over the breast.
The corpse of the President will be laid out in state in the east room on Tuesday, in order to give the public an opportunity to see once more the features of him they loved so well. The preparations are being made, to that end, under the supervision of the upholsterer. The catafalque upon which the body will rest is to be placed in the south part of the east room, and is somewhat similar in style to that used on the occasion of the death of President HARRISON. Steps will be placed at the side to enable the public to mount to a position to get a perfect view of the face. The catafalque will be lined with fluted white satin, and on the outside it will be covered with black cloth and black velvet.”
Note: Back to 1862: Jefferson Davis authorizes the Conscription Act today. All White males between 18-35 required to fight “if called.” A Rebel already fighting? Required to stay an additional 24 months? Lots of luck, buddy.
Stonewall Jackson Valley Campaign Shenandoah 1862 Peter Cozzens P. 237
“For all their skill, Ashby’s cavalrymen were not invincible. On April 16, acting on a tip from a Unionist refugee, a task force composed of two companies of Federal infantry and the Washington and Ringgold cavalry companies– 120 men in all– captured between 50 and 65 of Ashby’s men near the village of Columbia Furnace. The Virginians were holed up in two churches, trying to escape the rain and cold, when the Yankees fell upon them just after midnight. Their captors admired their appearance, if not their diligence. The commander of the Federal detachment thought that “these cavalrymen were well mounted and armed generally with sabers. Colt revolvers, together with some kind of rifle or gun for longer range shooting or carbine service. Among them were a few Colt revolving rifles, two Sharp’s rifles, one or two Enfield rifles, but the prevailing arm was the double-barreled shot gun, mostly fine guns, and many of them of English make, all of which were loaded with buck and bull when we captured them. They were well uniformed in grey, and were native Virginians, about the best-looking Rebel soldiers that we came in contact with.’”
Note: 1862: Lincoln signs the D.C. Emancipation Act, the first step on the road to all abolition.
.
.
I hope I may arrive home again….
A word.
But you must act.
The call is coming from inside the house.
Check one two. Come on now, giddy up.
It’s like the movie Stakeout. Pieces of rain turned to a raised river Chickahominy, a horizon shaped like a lie he can’t get across. Tan river flashing by yet seems to be holding its breath. Froze & watched the riverline like a transformer blew, or like he’s in a Cymbalta commercial. This is not what it looks like, says George, sporting desperate 4:00am casino sunglasses, the mien of someone about to get dropped off in Juarez.
Google the words you must act and it comes up second, this dispatch of Lincoln’s. First up? YouTube videos on climate change.
.
.
.
FAIR USE NOTICE. Terms of Use. This non-profit, non-commercial, for educational purposes only website contains copyrighted material for the purpose of teaching, learning, research, study, scholarship, criticism, comment, review, and news reporting, which constitutes the Fair Use of any such copyrighted material as provided for under Section §107 of the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.