PART III. Chapter XI.

partial image of the painted paper from inside cover

Last Days of Mr. Lincoln. —His Assassination. —Attack on Mr. Seward.
—Remains of Mr. Lincoln lying in State. —Obsequies at Washington. —Removal of the
Remains to Springfield, Illinois. —Demonstration along the route. —Obsequies at
Springfield. —The Great Crime, its authors and abettors. —The Assassin's End.
—The Conspiracy. —Complicity of Jefferson Davis. —How assassins were trained to their work.
—Tributes and Testimonials. —Mr. Lincoln as a Lawyer. —Incidents and Reminiscences.
—Additional Speeches. —Letter to Gov. Hahn, on Negro Suffrage. —Letter to Mrs. Gurney.
—Letter to a Widow who had lost five Sons in the War. —Letter to a Centenarian.
—A letter written in early life. —A speech made in 1839. —Letter to Mr. Choate, on
the Pilgrim Fathers. —Letter to Dr. Maclean, on receiving the Degree of LL. D. —Letter
to Gov. Fletcher, of Missouri, on the restoration of order. —A message to the Miners.
—Speech at Independence Hall in 1861. —Concluding remarks.


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AFTER years of weary toil, Mr. Lincoln seemed now to be entering on a period of comparative repose. The first step had been taken for putting the army on a peace footing. A policy had been matured for the re-establishment of loyal local governments in the insurgent States. Forbearance, clemency, charity were to control the executive action in dealing with the difficult problems still awaiting practical solution. After the Cabinet meeting on the 14th of April,* the President was in unusually buoyant spirits. His remaining tasks evidently seemed lighter than ever before. His gladsome humor was noticed by his friends.

As he went on an afternoon drive with Mrs. Lincoln, she could not forbear an expression of slight foreboding, suggested

*At a Cabinet meeting at which General Grant was present to-day, the subject of the state of the country and the prospects of speedy peace was discussed. The President was very cheerful and hopeful, spoke very kindly of General Lee, and others of the Confederacy, and the establishment of Government in Virginia. —Secretary Stanton's Dispatch, April 14th.


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by this change of manner: " It was thus with you," she said, "just before our dear Willie's death." The allusion to this event, the depressing effects of which, during more than three years, had never been effaced, cast a shadow on his heart. But in a moment he replied, speaking of the impossibility of accounting for such transitions of mood. The passing thought was quickly gone, to be recalled only by subsequent realities. Mr. Lincoln talked of the future, and of the hopes he indulged of happier hours during his second term than he had been permitted to enjoy during that which was passed —an expectation reasonably founded on the altered condition of national affairs, and on the assured confidence and love of the people, which would lighten the burdens undertaken on their behalf.

Gen. Grant had arrived in Washington in time to witness the grand illumination of the previous evening. There was a general desire to see the great commander, to whom, during the war, three Rebel armies had successively surrendered, and whose leadership had at length brought the military power of the rebellion to utter ruin. This desire had not been gratified. On the evening of the 14th, the places of public amusement were to be specially decorated in honor of the great victories achieved, and of the raising over Fort Sumter of the identical flag pulled down on that day four years before, at the opening of the war. Mr. Lincoln, who had been wont occasionally, though seldom, to seek a brief respite from his heavy cares by attending on a play, or an opera, thought proper to engage a private box at Ford's Theater, for this evening, intending that Gen. Grant should accompany him on the occasion. A messenger was accordingly sent on Friday morning to secure the upper double box, on the right hand side of the audience, before occupied by him, and the announcement was made in the evening papers, by the business manager of the theater, that the President and Gen. Grant would be present to witness the performance of "The American Cousin." Gen. Grant, however, had felt compelled to leave the city that evening, going north with his family, and he was accordingly excused.

There were visitors at the White House that night as usual, and it was somewhat late when Mr. Lincoln was ready to leave.


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Mrs, Lincoln, as if some persentiment restrained her, seemed reluctant to go, but the President was unwilling that those who had seen the announcement should be totally disappointed by seeing neither himself nor the Lieutenant-General. Speaker Colfax, who was the last person received by Mr. Lincoln, walked with him and Mrs. Lincoln from the parlor to the carriage. Mr. Ashmun, who had nearly five years before presided over the National Convention, which first nominated Mr. Lincoln for the Presidency, came up at this moment, having hoped to obtain an interview. After salutations, a card was handed to Mr, Ashmun, written by the President as he sat in his carriage, directing the usher to admit that gentleman to the Executive room on the following morning. The carriage drove away, stopping to take up two young friends on the way —Maj. Rathbone and Miss Harris. It was not yet past nine when the party reached the theater, which was densely thronged. As President Lincoln entered and passed to his box he was greeted with enthusiastic cheering.

Mr. Lincoln occupied a chair on the side of the box nearest the audience, Mrs. Lincoln sitting next him. Their guests were seated beyond, in a portion of the box usually separated by a partition, which had been removed for this occasion. Each part was ordinarily entered by its own door, opening from a narrow passage, to which, near the outer wall, a door gives access from the dress circle. The last named door and the further one inside were closed, the other, through which the whole party passed, remaining open. Any intrusion upon this privacy, in the presence of so many spectators, was hardly to be thought of as possible. Every day of his life in Washington, the President had been in positions far more inviting to murderous malice or Rebel conspiracy.

During the hour that followed Mr. Lincoln's entrance into the theater, his attention seemed to be unusually absorbed in the scenes before him. His countenance indicated an appreciation of the lively caricature in which the good-humored audience manifested a high degree of delight. Yet it may safely be affirmed that there was, in his mind, a strong under-current of quite other thoughts and emotions than those which had to do with this mock presentation of human life and man-


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ners. One can not doubt, knowing his mental characteristics, that while partly enjoying this light diversion, his mind was active with more substantial realities, and actually most occupied with these, when apparently most intent in observing what passed on the stage.

In the midst of a scene of the third act, when but one actor was before the curtain, the sound of a pistol-shot was heard, and a man leaped from the President's box and disappeared behind the scenes. So sudden was all this, that only the screams of Mrs. Lincoln, a moment later, revealed its meaning. The President had been shot. His assassin had escaped. One of the audience promptly sprang upon the stage, following the fugitive, but was only in time to see him mount a horse at the rear of the theater, and ride away at a flying speed. Wild excitement swayed the audience now toward the stage, many leaping over the foot-lights, and now toward the door. Attention was earnestly directed, on the next instant, to the condition of Mr. Lincoln. He was found to be insensble, having fallen slightly forward, where he sat. Presently surgeons were admitted to the box, and soon after it was discovered that he had been shot in the back of the neck, just beneath the base of the brain, in which the ball was still lodged —a hopeless wound. In a few minutes more he was borne from the theater to a private house on the opposite side of the street.

The terrible news quickly spread through the city, and the streets near the theater were thronged with distressed and indignant thousands, anxious for a word as to the President's condition, that would give encouragement to hope —eager to know who was the author of this monstrous crime. Almost simultaneously came the intelligence that Secretary Seward, who had been lying seriously ill for many days past, had been brutally stabbed in his bed by a ruffian, who had wounded several others in making his escape from the house. It soon became known, also, that Frederick W. Seward, Assistant Secretary of State, had been so wounded, by the same hand, that his recovery was very doubtful.

In the room to which Mr. Lincoln had been removed, he remained, still breathing, but unconscious, surrounded by his


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distracted family —who sometimes retired together to an adjoining room— by his Cabinet, by surgeons, and by a few others, until twenty-three minutes past seven o'clock, on the morning of April 15th, when his great heart ceased to beat.

Never before was rejoicing turned into such sudden and overwhelming sorrow. A demon studying how most deeply to wound the greatest number of hearts, could have devised no act for his purpose like that which sent ABRAHAM LINCOLN to his grave. No man's loss could have been so universally felt as that of a father, brother, friend. Many a fireside was made doubly lonely by this bereavement. "Sadness to despondency has seized on all " —says a private letter from a resident of one of our largest cities, written on the fatal day. "Men have ceased business, and workmen are turning home with their dinner buckets unopened. The merchants are leaving their counting-rooms for the privacy of their dwellings. A gloom, intensified by the transition from the pomp and rejoicing of yesterday, settles impenetrably on every mind. "And this was but a picture of the grief everywhere felt. Bells sadly tolled in all parts of the land. Mourning drapery was quickly seen from house to house on every square of the national capital; and all the chief places of the country witnessed, by spontaneous demonstrations, their participation in the general sorrow. In every loyal pulpit, and at every true altar throughout the nation, the great public grief was the theme of earnest prayer and discourse, on the day following. One needs not to dwell on what no pen can describe, and on what no adult living on that day can ever forget.

During the night of Friday, diligent efforts were made to discover the assassin, and to secure his arrest. It was early ascertained that J. W. Booth, an actor, was the perpetrator of the crime, and that he had probably escaped across the East Branch, into a portion of Maryland in warm sympathy with the rebellion. The circumstances attending the deed were eagerly inquired into, and testimony taken, from which it was learned that the assassination of Mr. Lincoln and the attempted murder of Mr. Seward, had their source in a conspiracy, of which Vice-President Johnson was also an intended victim


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The statements of Major Rathbone, who was in the President's box, and of the actor (Mr. Hawk) who was alone on the stage, at the time of the murder, have a special value in relation to the circumstances attending its consummation. Maj. Rathbone, in an affidavit made on the 17th of April, said:

The distance between the President, as he sat, and the door, was about four or five feet. The door, according to the recollection of this deponent, was not closed during the evening. When the second scene of the third act was being performed, and while this deponent was intently observing the proceedings upon the stage, with his back toward the door, he heard the discharge of a pistol behind him, and looking around, saw, through the smoke, a man between the door and the President. At the same moment deponent heard him shout some word which deponent thinks was "freedom!" This deponent instantly sprang toward him and seized him; he wrested himself from the grasp and made a violent thrust at the breast of deponent with a large knife. Deponent parried the blow by striking it up, and received a wound several inches deep in his left arm, between the elbow and the shoulder. The orifice of the wound is about an inch and a half in length, and extends upward toward the shoulder several inches. The man rushed to the front of the box, and deponent endeavored to seize him again, but only caught his clothes as he was leaping over the railing of the box. The clothes, as deponent believes, were torn in this attempt to seize him. As he went over upon the stage, deponent cried out with a loud voice, "Stop that man!" Deponent then turned to the President; his position was not changed; his head was slightly bent forward, and his eyes were closed. Deponent saw that he was unconscious, and supposing him mortally wounded, rushed to the door for the purpose of calling medical aid. On reaching the outer door of the passage way as above described, deponent found it barred by a heavy piece of plank, one end of which was secured in the wall, and the other resting against the door. It had been so securely fastened that it required considerable force to remove it. This wedge or bar was about four feet from the floor. Persons upon the outside were beating against the door for the purpose of entering. Deponent removed the bar, and the door was opened.

The actor who was at the moment on the stage, gave the following particulars in a letter to his father, written on the 16th of April:


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I was playing Asa Trenchard, in the "American Cousin." The "old lady" of the theater had just gone off the stage, and I was answering her exit speech when I heard the shot fired. I turned, looked up at the President's box, heard the man exclaim, "Sic semper tyrannis! " saw him jump from the box, seize the flag on the staff and drop to the stage; he slipped when he gained the stage, but he got upon his feet in a moment, brandished a large knife, saying, " The South shall be free!" turned his face in the direction I stood, and I recognized him as John Wilkes Booth. He ran toward me, and I, seeing the knife, thought I was the one he was after, ran off the stage and up a flight of stairs. He made his escape out of a door directly in the rear of the theater, mounted a horse and rode off.

The above all occurred in the space of a quarter of a minute, and at the time I did not know that the President was shot, although, if I had tried to stop him he would have stabbed me.

I am now under one thousand dollars bail to appear as a witness when Booth is tried, if caught.

All the above I have sworn to. You may imagine the excitement in the theater, which was crowded, with cries of "Hang him!" "Who was he?" etc., from every one present.

On the morning of his death, Mr. Lincoln's remains were taken to the White House, embalmed, and on Tuesday laid in state in the East Room, where they were visited by many thousands during the day. On Wednesday, funeral services were held in the same room. An impressive discourse was preached by Rev. Dr. Gurley, pastor of the Presbyterian church which the late President attended; the main portion of the Episcopal service for the burial of the dead was read by Rev. Dr. Hall (Episcopalian), and prayers were offered by Bishop Simpson (Methodist) and Rev. Dr. Gray (Baptist). The funeral procession and pageant, as the body was removed to the rotunda of the capitol, were of grand and solemn character, beyond description. The whole length of the Avenue, from the Executive Mansion to the capital, was crowded with the thousands of the army, navy, civil officers, and citizens, marching to the music of solemn dirges. From window and roof, and from side-walks densely crowded, tens of thousands along the whole route witnessed the spectacle. The remains again lay in state, in the Rotunda, and were visited by many thousands during


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the following day. On Friday morning the remains were borne to the rich funeral car, in which, accompanied by an escort of distinguished officers and citizens, they were to be borne on their journey of nearly two thousand miles to their last rest in the silence of the Western prairie. The funeral cortege left Washington on the 21st of April, going by way of Baltimore and Harrisburg to Philadelphia, where the body lay in state in Independence Hall, from Saturday evening, the 22d, until Monday morning. On the afternoon of the 24th, the train reached New York. All along the route, thus far, the demonstrations of the people were of the most earnest character, and at Philadelphia the ceremonies were imposing, profound grief and sympathy being universally manifested. At New York, on the 25th, a funeral procession, unprecedented in numbers, marched through the streets, while mottoes and emblems of woe were section every hand —touching devices, yet altogether vain to express the reality of the general sorrow. The train reached Albany the same night, remaining there part of the day on the 26th, while the same overflowing popular manifestations were witnessed as at previous places along the route. These were continued at all the principal points on the way from that city to Buffalo, where there were special demonstrations, on the 27th, as again at Cleveland on the 28th, at Columbus on the 29th, and at Indianapolis on the 30th, Wherever the funeral car and cortege passed through the State of Ohio, as through Indiana and Illinois, the people thronged to pay their sad greeting to the dead, and tokens of public mourning and private sadness were seen. At Chicago, where the train arrived on the 1st of May, the demonstrations were specially impressive, and the mournful gatherings of the people were such as could have happened on no other occasion. It was the honored patriot of Illinois, who had been stricken down in the midst of his glorious work, and whose lifeless remains were now brought back to the city which he had chosen to be his future home.

From Chicago to Springfield, the great ovation of sorrow was unparalleled, through all the distance. The remains of the martyred statesman were passing over ground familiar to his


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sight for long years, and filled with personal friends who had known him from early life. Yet even here, where all were deeply moved, there could scarcely be a more heartfelt tribute, a more universal impulse to render homage to the memory of the immortal martyr for liberty, than in every city and State through which the funeral car and its cortege had passed.

The final obsequies took place at Springfield, on Thursday, the 4th day of May, when the remains of Abraham Lincoln, in the presence of many thousands, were placed in a vault in Oak Ridge Cemetery. With the body of the late President, the disinterred remains of his son Willie, who died in February, 1862, had been borne to Illinois, and were now placed beside those of the father by whom he had been so tenderly loved. The ceremonies were grandly impressive. Mr. Lincoln's last inaugural address was read, the Dead March in Saul, and other dirges and hymns were sung, accompanied by an instrumental band, and an eloquent discourse was preached by Bishop Simpson. Rev. Dr. Gurley, of Washington, and other clergymen, participated in the religious exercises, In every part of the nation, the day was observed, and business suspended. Never, probably, was the memory of any man before so honored in his death, or any obsequies participated in by so many hundreds of thousands of sincere mourners.

The assassination of Abraham Lincoln was the culmination of a series of fiendish schemes undertaken in aid of an infamous rebellion. It was the deadly flower of the rank and poisonous weed of treason. The guiding and impelling spirit of Secessionism nerved and aimed the blow struck by the barbarous and cowardly assassin, who stole up from behind to surprise his victim, and brutally murdered him in the privacy of his box, and in the presence of his wife.

Large rewards were speedily offered for the capture of the chief assassin and of his principal known accomplices, Atzerodt and Herold. The villain who attempted the murder of Mr. Seward was first arrested —giving his name as Payne. Booth and his companion Herold were traced through the counties of Prince George, Charles, and St. Mary, in Maryland, and finally across the Potomac into King George and Caroline counties in


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Virginia. They bad crossed the Rappahannock at Port Conway, and had advanced some distance toward Bowling Green. By the aid of information obtained from negroes, and from a Rebel paroled prisoner, they were finally found in a barn, on a Mr. Garrett's place, early on the morning of the 26th of April, when Herold surrendered. Booth, defiant to the last, was shot by Sergeant Corbett, of the cavalry force in pursuit of the fugitives, and lived but a few hours, ending his life in miserable agony. In leaping from the box of the theater, he had broken a bone of his leg, impeding his flight and producing intense suffering during the eleven days of his wanderings. A swift and terrible retribution had overtaken the reckless criminal —perhaps the most fitting expiation of his deed.*

In addition to the arrests of Payne and Herold, were those of Atzerodt, O'Laughlin, Spangler, an employee at Ford's Theater; Dr. Mudd, who harbored Booth the day after the assassination, set the broken bone of his leg, and helped him on his way; Arnold, whose letter to Booth, found in the latter's trunk, signed "Sam," showed his connection with the conspiracy, and Mrs. Surratt, at whose house some of the conspirators were wont to meet, and who was charged with aiding the plans and the escape of Booth.

But the conspiracy was clearly traceable to a higher source than Booth and these wretched accomplices. Mr. Johnson, who had been inaugurated as President on the morning of Mr. Lincoln's death, issued, after the plot had become more fully unraveled, the following

* The wretched miscreant whose hand has spread mourning over a continent, and turned even hostility into sympathy for his victim, has perished in a manner that is perhaps the fittest penalty for his crime. Other assassins have invested their deed with a glow of heroism, by setting their own lives frankly against the life they smote, and daring vengeance in the name of justice. But Wilkes Booth was a cowardly villain, who crept secretly to strike his enemy in the back, and who thought to secure his own safety by a prepared flight. So it is best that he should not even have the dignity of dying by the hands of justice, but hunted like vermin to his lair, be put out of life by the pistol of a common soldier. It is best for the world that as speedily as possible it should be enabled to cease thinking of a nature so deformed, which had drawn to itself notoriety by a crime so inhuman. —London Daily News.


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PROCLAMATION:

WHEREAS, It appears from evidence in the Bureau of Military Justice that the atrocious murder of the late President, Abraham Lincoln, and the attempted assassination of the Hon. W. H. Seward, Secretary of State, were incited, concerted and procured by and between Jefferson Davis, late of Richmond, Virginia, and Jacob Thompson, Clement C. Clay, Beverley Tucker, George N. Sanders, W. C. Cleary, and other Rebels and traitors against the Government of the United States, harbored in Canada; now, therefore, to the end that justice may be done, I, Andrew Johnson, President of the United States, do offer and promise for the arrest of said persons, or either of them, within the limits of the United States, so that they can be brought to trial, the following rewards : One hundred thousand dollars for the arrest of Jefferson Davis; twenty-five thousand dollars for the arrest of Clement C. Clay; twenty-five thousand dollars for the arrest of Jacob Thompson, late of Mississippi; twenty-five thousand dollars for the arrest of George N. Sanders; twenty-five thousand dollars for the arrest of Beverley Tucker, and ten thousand dollars for the arrest of William C. Cleary, late clerk of Clement C. Clay.

The Provost-Marshal-Greneral of the United States is directed to cause a description of said persons, with notice of the above rewards, to be published.

In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand, and caused the seal of the United States to be affixed.
Done at the city of Washington, the second day of May, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-five, and of the independence of the United States of America the eighty-ninth.
ANDREW JOHNSON.
By the President: W. HUNTER, Acting Secretary of State.

A Military Commission was convened to meet on the 8th of May, for the trial of the parties arrested on the charge of "maliciously, unlawfully, and traitorously, and in aid of the present armed Rebellion against the United States of America, on or before the 6th day of March, A. D. 1865, combining, confederating and conspiring together, with one John H. Surratt, John Wilkes Booth, Jefferson Davis, George N. Sanders, Beverley Tucker, Jacob Thompson, William C. Cleary, Clement C. Clay, George Harper, George Young, and others unknown, to kill and murder, within the Military Department of Washington,


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and within the fortified and intrenched lines thereof, ABRAHAM LINCOLN, and at the time of said combining, confederating and conspiring, President of the United States and Commander-in-Chief the Army and Navy thereof; Andrew Johnson, then Vice President of the United States aforesaid, "Wm. H. Seward, Secretary of State of the United States aforesaid, and Ulysses S, Grant, Lieutenant-General of the Army of the United States aforesaid, then in command of the armies of the United States, under the direction of the said Abraham Lincoln; and in pursuance of and in prosecuting said malicious, unlawful and traitorous conspiracy aforesaid, and in aid of said Rebellion, afterward, to-wit, on the 14th day of April, 1865, within the Military Department of Washington aforesaid, and within the fortified and intrenched lines of said Military Department, together with said John Wilkes Booth and John H. Surratt, maliciously, unlawfully and traitorously murdering the said Abraham Lincoln, then President of the United States and Commander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy of the United States as aforesaid, and maliciously, unlawfully and traitorously assaulting, with intent to kill and murder, the said Wm. H. Seward, then Secretary of State of the United States as aforesaid, and lying in wait with intent, maliciously, unlawfully and traitorously, to kill and murder the said Andrew Johnson, then being Vice President of the United States, and the said Ulysses S. Grant, then being Lieutenant-General and in command of the Armies of the United States as aforesaid."

In the course of the trial, positive evidence was furnished, connecting Jacob Thompson, Jefferson Davis, and their associates named above, with President Lincoln's assassination. This direct evidence is only the key-stone of an arch of circumstances, strong as adamant. We have already seen the avowal, in the Greeley-Sander's peace correspondence, that several of these men were in Canada, in the "confidential employment" of Davis. This employment, after the failure of their busy intrigues with Northern sympathizers, to defeat Mr. Lincoln's re-election, and the liberal waste of funds in sustaining Northern Rebel journalism, had taken a form congenial to their "chivalrous" instincts, in instigating and aiding piratical seiz-


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tires on Lake Erie, robbery at St. Albans, hotel-burning and wholesale murder at New York, and in a broad-cast diffusion of pestilence and death through the northern cities, by the efforts of the "philanthropic" Dr. Blackburn, who labored assiduously in his purpose of spreading malignant disease by means of infected clothing. What farther depth of iniquity needed these men to sound before organizing a conspiracy —at first for the avowed purpose of abducting, then of murdering outright, the President whom they so maliciously hated? That they did enter this scheme, is proved beyond doubt. That Jefferson Davis, in whose "confidential employment" all this while they were, was consulted as to the plan of assassination, and gave it his approval, is shown by positive testimony. And this suits the temper he had shown in his readiness to entertain McCullough's infamous plan for introducing into the "confidential" service a combustible which would obviate the "difficulties heretofore encountered" in burning hotels. It is strikingly confirmed by his language on hearing, at Charlotte, North Carolina, that Mr. Lincoln had been assassinated. Lewis F. Bates, of that town, in whose house Davis was then staying, gives the following testimony on this point, after stating that the latter received a dispatch from Breckinridge announcing the assassination:

Q.—Look at this (exhibiting to witness a telegram) and see whether it is the same dispatch?

A.—I should say that it was. The dispatch was then read, as follows:

"GREENSBORO, April 19,1865.
—His Excellency, President Davis: President Lincoln was assassinated in the theater in Washington, on the night of the 14th inst. Seward's house was entered on the same night, and he was repeatedly stabbed, and is probably mortally wounded.
(Signed,) "JOHN C. BRECKINRIDGE."

Q.—State what Jefferson Davis said after reading this dispatch to the crowd. Endeavor to recollect his precise language?

A.—At the conclusion of his speech to the people, he read this dispatch aloud, and made this remark : "If it were to be done, it were better that it were done well."


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Q.—You are sure these are the words?

A.—These are the words.

Q.—State whether or not, in a day or two afterward, Jefferson Davis, John C. Breckinridge, and others, were present in your house in Charlotte?

A.—They were.

Q.—And the assassination of the President was the subject of conversation?

A.—A day or two afterward that was the subject of their conversation.

Q.—Can you remember what John C. Breckinridge said?

A.—In speaking of the assassination of President Lincoln, he remarked to Davis that he regretted it very much; that it was unfortunate for the people of the South at that time. Davis replied: "Well, General, I don't know; if it were to be done at all, it were better it were well done; and if the same were done to Andrew Johnson, the beast, and to Secretary Stanton, the job would then be complete."

Q.—You feel confident that you recollect the words?

A.—These are the words used.

The expedient of assassinating Mr. Lincoln had long been a favorite one, beyond doubt, with many of the Southern traitors. It was no less unlawful, they might naturally reason, than levying war against the Government That it was less manly, that it was infamous in the eyes of all nations, weighed little with many who had so long brazenly defied the sentiment of the civilized world. Mr. Lincoln, during the canvass of 1860, received letters threatening his life —in themselves of no consequence, but showing how easily Rebel notions even then took such a direction, and might sooner or later mature into act. It can not reasonably be doubted that there was a definite plan for assassinating Mr. Lincoln at Baltimore, in February, 1861. Northern Copperheads and Southern traitors kept the propensity alive by constant denunciations of the President as a tyrant, and by historic allusions, tightened in effect by poetic citations in praise of tyrannicide. These doctrines were fostered by the Copperhead secret orders — undoubtedly in affiliation with Thompson, Clay and Tucker, and receiving from them pecuniary aid. This spirit was rampant at the Chicago Democratic National Convention, as shown in


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previous pages, and during the subsequent canvass. All these ideas apparently originated in the South, and were propagated from thence. It was under such training that the assassin was prepared for the conception, and nerved to the execution of his monstrous crime.

When the youthful Col. Dahlgren fell a victim to Southern hate, in Kilpatrick's unsuccessful raid for the rescue of prisoners at Richmond, on the 4th of March, 1864, there was pretended to have been found on Dahlgren's person an order in his name, directing that the city be destroyed, "and Jeff. Davis and Cabinet killed." This "order," of which much was made in the Rebel States and abroad, has been satisfactorily shown to be a forgery, and it now but serves to reveal the dark under-current in the Southern mind, setting in the direction of a crime ultimately consummated.

There is positive proof, developed on the trial of the assassination conspirators, that, at the time of this raid of Kilpatrick, preparations were made for a wholesale massacre of several thousand Union prisoners, in case he had taken the city, by means of mines filled with gunpowder under the Libby prison. This fact has been officially conceded and justified in the report of a Rebel committee, which has recently come to light.

A lawyer of Alabama, named Gayle, perhaps quite as respectable as "philanthropist" Blackburn, published a notice (the authorship and genuineness of which are proved), on the 1st of December, 1864, in the Selma Dispatch, in these words :

ONE MILLION DOLLARS WANTED TO HAVE PEACE BY THE 1ST OF MARCH. —If the citizens of the Southern Confederacy will furnish me with the cash, or good securities, for the sum of one million dollars, I will cause the lives of Abraham Lincoln, William H. Seward and Andrew Johnson to be taken by the 1st of March next. This will give us peace, and satisfy the world that cruel tyrants can not live in a "land of liberty." If this is not accomplished, nothing will be claimed beyond the sum of fifty thousand dollars, in advance, which is supposed to be necessary to reach and slaughter the three villains.

I will give, myself, one thousand dollars toward this patriotic purpose. Every one wishing to contribute will address Box X, Cahaba, Alabama. DECEMBER 1,1864.


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During the same winter there were intimations in Southern quarters, and in sympathetic circles abroad, as indicated through the public prints, that some great event was about to happen, which would startle the world. The spirit of assassination had been carefully nursed. The crime itself had been repeatedly meditated and plotted. This fact was known to Davis. Men in his "confidential employment," constantly at work, with his knowledge, on schemes the most infamous, were instigating and aiding the crime of Booth. Davis knew this crime to be intended, gave it his sanction, and rejoiced with no regret except that the plot was not more completely carried into effect. The assassination was not the mere freak of a madcap or fanatic. It was the natural outgrowth of the spirit which led the Rebellion, and which advanced on the same line to the vilest works of desperation. The barbarous oligarch and upstart autocrat who had deliberately starved thousands of Union prisoners, could have no compunction at seeing a chosen emissary stealthily murder the ruler to whose authority he must otherwise soon be forced to succumb.

Never, perhaps, has the death of any man called forth so many expressions of sorrow and respect, or inspired so many exalted tributes from orators, poets and authors, as well as from the people of every class. In British America, the shock seemed almost as universal as in the States. From all parts of Great Britain, from Germany, France, Italy, and the countries beyond, as from the diplomatic representatives of all nations at the National Capital, have come unaffected utterances of sympathy and high recognitions of the goodness and greatness of the departed. Letters of condolence were addressed to Mrs. Lincoln by Queen Victoria and the Empress Eugenie, with their own hands. Numerous public bodies and popular meetings —parliaments, associations, and gatherings of the people— throughout Europe as well as this country, have sent similar tokens. From the multitude of the higher tributes to the character of Mr. Lincoln, only a few brief extracts can be given here.

In the course of his oration, delivered in New York on the


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occasion of Mr. Lincoln's death, our great historian, George Bancroft, said:

Those who come after us will decide how much of the wonderful results of his public career is due to his own good common sense, his shrewd sagacity, readiness of wit, quick interpretation of the public mind, his rare combination of fixedness and pliancy, his steady tendency of purpose; how much to the American people, who, as he walked with them side by side, inspired him with their own wisdom and energy; and how much to the overruling laws of the moral world, by which the selfishness of evil is made to defeat itself. But after every allowance, it will remain that members of the government which preceded his administration opened the gates of treason, and he closed them; that when he went to Washington the ground on which he trod shook under his feet, and he left the republic on a solid foundation; that traitors had seized public forts and arsenals, and he recovered them for the United States, to whom they belonged; that the capital, which he found the abode of slaves, is now the home only of the free; that the boundless public domain which was grasped at, and, in a great measure, held for the diffusion of shivery, is now irrevocably devoted to freedom ; that then men talked a jargon of a balance of power in a republic between slave States and free States, and now the foolish words are blown away forever by the breath of Maryland, Missouri and Tennessee ; that a terrible cloud of political heresy rose from the abyss threatening to hide the light of the sun, and under its darkness a rebellion was rising into indefinable proportions; now the atmosphere is purer than ever before, and the insurrection is vanishing away; the country is east into another mold, and the gigantic system of wrong, which had been the work of more than two centuries, is dashed down, we hope forever. And as to himself personally, he was then scoffed at by the proud as unfit for his station, and now, against the usage of later years, and in spite of numerous competitors, he was the unbiassed and the undoubted choice of the American people for a second term of service. Through all the mad business of treason he retained the sweetness of a most placable disposition; and the slaughter of myriads of the best on the battle-field, and the more terrible destruction of our men in captivity by the slow torture of exposure and starvation, had never been able to provoke him into harboring one vengeful feeling or one purpose of cruelty.

How shall the nation most completely show its sorrow at Mr. Lincoln's death? How shall it best honor his memory? There can be but one answer, He was struck down when he was


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highest in its service, and in strict conformity with duty was engaged in carrying out, principles affecting its life, its good name, and its relations to the cause of freedom and the progress of mankind. Grief must take the character of action, and breathe itself forth in the assertion of the policy to which he fell a sacrifice. The standard which he held in his hand must be uplifted again, higher and more firmly than before, and must be carried on to triumph. Above everything else, his proclamation of the first day of January, 1863, declaring throughout the parts of the country in rebellion the freedom of all persons who have been held as slaves, must be affirmed and maintained.

Referring to the deed of the assassin, and to the attempt to sever the Union, Mr. Bancroft said:

To that Union Abraham Lincoln has fallen a martyr. His death, which was meant to sever it beyond repair, binds it more closely and more firmly than ever. The death blow aimed at him was aimed not at the native of Kentucky, not at the citizen of Illinois, but at the man who, as President, in the executive branch of the government, stood as the representative of every man in the United States. The object of the crime was the life of the whole people; and it wounds the affections of the whole people. From Maine to the South-west boundary on the Pacific, it makes us one. The country may have needed an imperishable grief to touch its inmost feeling. The grave that receives the remains of Lincoln, receives the martyr to the Union; the monument which will rise over his body will bear witness to the Union; his enduring memory will assist during countless ages to bind the States together, and to incite to the love of our one, undivided, indivisible country. Peace to the ashes of our departed friend, the friend of his country and his race. Happy was his life, for he was the restorer of the republic; he was happy in his death, for the manner of his end will plead forever for the Union of the States and the freedom of man.

The venerable Lewis Cass, a life-long political opponent, after excusing himself from taking an active part in the great demonstration at Detroit, on account of infirm health, wrote as follows:

But in the numerous assemblages, which the impressive ceremonies will call together, there will not be one who will mourn more sincerely than I do the deplorable event which, has


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spread sorrow and Indignation through our whole country. He whom the nation loved and laments was called to his high station at a most portentous crisis, at the commencement of a war, almost without a parallel in human history in the sacrifices and exertions it required, and in the appalling circumstances that marked its progress.

The nature of the contest, an attempt to break up the happiest government ever enjoyed by man, gave rise to many new and difficult questions at home and abroad, and added strength to the passions which war usually calls into action. The departed patriot entered upon his new field of duty with an unwavering confidence in the justice of his cause and its final triumphant issue, and this confidence accompanied him during ail the trials to which he was exposed, inaugurated the policy he felt called upon to adopt. And, as in the progress of events, he became better understood by the course of his administration, he became better appreciated by his countrymen. Though differences of opinion as to the measures to be adopted were inseparable from such a contest, involving many issues of weal and of woe, still his noble qualities inspired general confidence and commanded general respect, and his successful administration will be evidence, in all time to come, of his own worth and the wisdom of his measures.

The poet-scholar, Ralph Waldo Emerson, in his oration at Boston, used these words:

In this country, on Saturday, every one was struck dumb, and saw, at first, only deep below deep, as he meditated on the ghastly blow. And, perhaps, at this hour, when the coffin which contains the dust of the President sets forward on its long march through mourning States, on its way to his home in Illinois, we might well be silent, and suffer the awful voices of the time to thunder to us. Yes, but that first despair was brief; the man was not so to be mourned. He was the most active and hopeful of men; and his work had not perished; but acclamations of praise for the task he had accomplished burst out into a song of triumph, which even tears for his death can not keep down.

The President stood before us a man of the people. He was thoroughly American, had never crossed the sea, had never been spoiled by English insularity or French dissipation; a quiet, native, aboriginal man, as an acorn from the oak; no aping of foreigners, no frivolous accomplishments, Kentuckian born, working on a farm, a flatboatman, a captain in the Black-hawk war, a country lawyer, a representative in the rural


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Legislature of Illinois —on such modest foundations the broad structure of his fame was laid. How slowly, and yet by happily prepared steps, he came to his place.

* * * * A plain man of the people, extraordinary fortune attended him. Lord Bacon says: "Manifest virtues procure reputation; occult ones, fortune." He offered no shining qualities at the first encounter; he did not offend by superiority. He had a face and manner which disarmed suspicion, which inspired confidence, which confirmed good will. He was a man without vices. He had a strong sense of duty which it was very easy for him to obey. Then he had what farmers call a long head; was excellent in working out the sum for himself; in argung his case, and convincing you fairly and firmly.

Then it turned out that he was a great worker; had prodigious faculty of performance; worked easily. A good worker is so rare; everybody has some disabling quality. In a host of young men that start together, and promise so many brilliant leaders for the next age, each fails on trial; one by bad health, one by conceit or by love of pleasure, or by lethargy, or by a hasty temper —each has some disqualifying fault that throws him out of the career. But this man was sound to the core, cheerful, persistent, all right for labor, and liked nothing so well.

Then he had a vast good nature, which made him tolerant and accessible to all; fair-minded, leaning to the claim of the petitioner; affable, and not sensible to the affliction which the innumerable visits paid to him, when President, would have brought to any one else. And how this good nature became a noble humanity, in many a tragic case which the events of the war brought to him, every one will remember, and with what increasing tenderness he dealt, when a whole race was thrown on his compassion. The poor negro said of him, on an impressive occasion, "Massa Linkum am everywhere."

Then his broad good humor, running easily into jocular talk, in which he delighted, and in which he excelled, was a rich gift to this wise man, It enabled him to keep his secret, to meet every kind of man, and every rank in society; to take off the edge of the severest decisions, to mask his own purpose and sound his companion, and to catch with true instinct the temper of every company he addressed. And, more than all, it is to a man of seyere labor, in anxious and exhausting crisises, the natural restorative, good as sleep, and is the protection of the overdriven brain against rancor and insanity.

He is the author of a multitude of good sayings, so disguised as pleasantries that it is certain they had no reputation at first


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but as jests; and only later, by the very acceptance and adoption they find in the mouths of millions, turn out to be the wisdom of the hour. I am sure if this man had ruled in a period of less facility of printing, he would have become mythological in a very few years, like Aesop or Pilpay, or one of the Seven Wise Masters, by his fables and proverbs.

But the weight and penetration of many passages in his letters, messages and speeches, hidden now by the very closeness of their application to the moment, are destined hereafter to a wide fame. What pregnant definitions; what unerring common sense; what foresight, and on great occasions, what lofty, and more than national, what humane tone! His brief speech at Gettysburg will not easily be surpassed by words on any recorded occasion. * * * *

It can not be said there is any exaggeration of his worth. If ever a man was fairly tested, he was. There was no lack of resistance, nor of slander, nor of ridicule. The times have allowed no State secrets; the Nation has been in such a ferment, such multitudes had to be trusted, that no secret could he kept. Every door was ajar, and we knew all that befell.

Then what an occasion was the whirlwind of the war. Here was place for no holiday magistrate, no fair-weather sailor; the new pilot was hurried to the helm in a tornado. In four years — the four years of battle days— his endurance, his fertility of resources, his magnanimity, were sorely tried and never found wanting.

There, by his courage, his justice, his even temper, his fertile counsel, his humanity, he stood an heroic figure in the center of an heroic epoch. He is the true history of the American people in his time. Step by step he walked before them; slow with their slowness; quickening his march by theirs; the true representative of this continent; an entirely public man; father of his country; the pulse of twenty millions throbbing in his heart, the thought of their minds articulated by his tongue.

William C. Bryant, our venerable poet, composed the following immortal hymn for the obsequies in New York

ABRAHAM LINCOLN
O, slow to smite and swift to spare,
Gentle and merciful and just!
Who, in the fear of God, didst bear
The sword of power —a nation's trust!


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In sorrow by thy bier we stand,
Amid the awe that hushes all,
And speak the anguish of a land
That shook with horror at thy fall.

Thy task is done; the bond are free;
We bear thee to an honored grave,
Whose proudest monument shall be
The broken fetters of the slave.

Pure was thy life; its bloody close
Has placed thee with the sons of light,
Among the noble host of those
Who perished in the cause of Right.

Prof. Goldwin Smith, of Oxford University, in England,
said:

America has gained one more ideal character, the most precious and inspiring of national possessions. * * * * * * * Lincoln has fallen a martyr to the abolition of slavery. He was not a fanatical abolitionist. He would have done nothing unconstitutional to effect immediate emancipation. In this respect, as in others, he was a true representative of the hard-headed and sober-minded farmer of the West. But he hated slavery with all his heart. He was him-self one of a family of fugitives from its dominions. He said that "If slavery was not wrong, nothing was wrong;" and though these words were not violent, they were sincere. He said that the day must come when the Union would he all slave or all free; and here again he meant what he said. He did not, as President, suffer himself to hold fierce language against slavery; nor would he, though hard pressed by those for whose character and convictions he had a high respect, allow himself to be led into premature and illegal measures for its instant extirpation. But, biding his time with patient sagacity, he struck it deliberately and legally the blow of which it has died. It struck him in return the blow which will make him live in the love of the nation and of mankind forever.

The Count de Paris, in a letter to Senator Sumner, used these words:

I should not have presumed to add my voice to the unanimous expressions of sympathy offered by Europe to your fellow-citizens, if my personal relations with Mr. Lincoln.


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which henceforth will remain among the most precious recollections of my youth, had not added something in my eyes to the magnitude of that public calamity. My brother and myself will both always gratefully remember the way in which he admitted us, four years ago, into the Federal army, the opportunity he then gave us to serve a cause to which we already felt bound by our family traditions, our sympathies as French-men, and our political creed.

Those who saw Mr, Lincoln during the great ordeal when everything seemed to conspire against the salvation of the Republic, will never forget the honest man who, without personal ambition, always supported by a strong perception of his duties, deserved to be called emphatically a great citizen. And when the dreadful crisis, during which he presided over the destinies of America, will belong to history —when its bloody track will disappear under the rapid growth of an invigorated nation and a, regenerated community, people will only remember its beneficial results, the destruction of slavery, the preservation of free institutions, and will ever associate with them the name of Mr. Lincoln. In this struggle with slavery, his name will remain illustrious among those of the indefatigable apostles who fought before him, and who will achieve his work. But it will also be said of him that he secured the preservation of the Union through a tremendous civil war, without ceasing to respect the authority of the law and the liberty of his fellow-citizens; that in the hour of trial he was the Chief Magistrate of a people who knew how to seek in the fullest use of the broadest liberties the spring of national endurance and energy.

Victor Hugo characteristically wrote to a friend in Boston:

At the moment you were writing, the North was victorious and Lincoln alive. To-day Lincoln is dead. That death ennobles Lincoln, and confirms the victory. The South has gained nothing by this crime.

Slavery is abolished.
It is abolished by the glorious means with which it has been attacked, and through the execrable means by which it has been defended.
Long live liberty! Long live the Republic!

From M. Drouyn de Lhuys, and other eminent French publicists, citations of earnest eulogy and sympathy might be made, to an almost unlimited extent. Let us rather return to


813

the utterances of an eminent American statesman and scholar, Charles Sumner, whose more strictly personal tribute —for he was one who knew Mr. Lincoln intimately in private inter-course— in his funeral oration at Boston, on the 1st of June, is specially memorable. In the course of his address, Mr. Sumner said:

In person, Mr. Lincoln was tall and rugged, with little semblance to any historic portrait, unless he might seem, in one respect, to justify the epithet which was given to an early English monarch. His countenance had even more of rugged strength than his person. Perhaps the quality which struck the most, at first sight, was his simplicity of manners and conversation —without form or ceremony of any kind, beyond that among neighbors. His handwriting had the same simplicity. It was as clear as that of Washington, but less florid. He was naturally humane, inclined to pardon, and never remembering the hard things said against him. He was always good to the poor, and in his dealings with them was full of those "kind little words which are of the same blood as great and holy deeds." Such a character awakened instinctively the sympathy of the people. They saw his fellow-feeling with them, and felt the kinship. With him as President, the idea of republican institutions, where no place is too high for the humblest, was perpetually manifest, so that his simple presence was like a proclamation of the equality of all men.

While social in nature, and enjoying the flow of conversation, he was often singularly reticent. Modesty was natural to such a character. As he was without affectation, so he was without pretence or jealousy. No person, civil or military, can complain that he appropriated to himself any honor that belonged to another. To each and all, he anxiously gave the credit that was due.

His humor has also become a proverb. He insisted, sometimes, that he had no invention, but only a memory. He did not forget the good things that he heard, and was never without a familiar story to illustrate his meaning. When he spoke, the recent West seemed to vie with the ancient East in apologue and fable. His ideas moved, as the beasts entered Noah's ark, in pairs. At times, his illustrations had a homely felicity, and with him they seemed to be not less important than the argument, which he always enforced with a certain intensity of manner and voice.

He was original in mind as in character. His style was his own, formed on no model, and springing directly from himself.


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While failing, often, in correctness, it is sometimes unique in beauty and in sentiment. There are passages which will live always. It is no exaggeration to say that, in weight and pith, suffused in a certain poetical color, they call to mind Bacon's Essays. Such passages make an epoch in State papers. No Presidential message or speech from a throne ever had any-thing of such touching reality. They are harbingers of the great era of humanity. While uttered from the heights of power, they reveal a simple, unaffected trust in Almighty God, and speak to the people as equal to equal.

* * * There was one theme in which latterly he was disposed to conduct the public mind. It was in the treatment of the Rebel leaders. His policy was never announced, and of course it would always have been subject to modification, in the light of experience. But it is well known that, at the very moment of his assassination, he was much occupied by thoughts of lenity and pardon. He was never harsh, even in speaking of Jefferson Davis; and only a few days before his end, when one who was privileged to speak to him in that way said, "Do not allow him to escape the law —he must be hanged," the President replied calmly in the words which he had adopted in his last Inaugural Address, " Judge not, that ye be not judged." And when pressed again and again by the remark that the sight of Libby Prison made it impossible to pardon him, the President repeated twice over these same words, revealing unmistakably the generous sentiments of his heart. The question of clemency here is the very theme so ably debated between Caesar and Cato, while the Roman Senate was considering the punishment of the confederates of Catiline. Caesar consented to confiscation and imprisonment, but pleaded for the lives of the criminals. Cato was sterner. It is probable that the President, who was a Cato in heart, would, on this occasion, have followed the counsels of Caesar.

The leading minds of England had long since come to see the inadequacy and injustice of their first opinions of Mr. Lincoln. Of the many faithful estimates of his public conduct, after his death, that of the London Spectator, especially in the following passages, deserves to be cited:

We all remember the animated eulogium on Gen. Washington, which Lord Macaulay passed, parenthetically, in his essay on Hampden, " It was when to the sullen tyranny of Laud and Charles had succeeded the fierce conflict of sects and factions, ambitious of ascendancy, or burning for revenge; it was


815

when the vices and ignorance which the old tyranny had engendered threatened the new freedom with destruction, that England missed the sobriety, the self-command, the perfect soundness of judgment, the perfect rectitude of intention to which the history of revolutions furnishes no parallel, or furnishes a parallel in Washington alone."If that high eulogium was fully earned, as it was, by the first great President of the United States, we doubt if it has not heen as well earned by the Illinois peasant-proprietor and "village lawyer," whom, by some Divine inspiration of Providence, the Republican caucus of 1860 substituted for Mr. Seward as their nominee for the President's chair. No doubt he has, in many ways, had a lighter task than Washington, for he had not, at least, to produce a government out of chaos, but only to express and execute the purposes of a people far more highly organized for political life than that with which Washington had to deal. But without the advantages of Washington's education or training, Mr. Lincoln was called from an humble station, at the opening of a mighty civil war, to form a government out of a party in which the habits and traditions of official life did not exist. Finding himself the object of Southern abuse so fierce and so foul, that in any man less passionless it would long ago have stirred up an implacable animosity; mocked at for his official awkwardness, and denounced for his steadfast policy by all the Democratic section of the loyal States, tried by years of failure before that policy achieved a single great success; further tried by a series of successes so rapid and brilliant that they would have puffed up a smaller mind and overset its balance; embarrassed by the boastfulness of his people, and of his subordinates no less than by his own inexperience in his relations with foreign States; beset by fanatics of principle on one side, who would pay no attention to his obligations as a constitutional ruler, and by fanatics of caste on the other, who were not only deaf to the claims of justice, but would hear of no policy large enough for a revolutionary emergency; Mr. Lincoln has persevered through all without ever giving way to anger, or despondency, or exultation, or popular arrogance, or sectarian fanaticism, or caste prejudice, visibly growing in force of character, in self-possession, and in magnanimity, till in his last short message to Congress, on the 4th of March, we can detect no longer the rude and illiterate mold of a village lawyer's thought, but find it replaced by a grasp of principle, a dignity of manner, and a solemnity of purpose which would have been unworthy neither of Hampden nor of Cromwell, while his gentleness and generosity of feeling toward his foes


816

are almost greater than we should expect from either of them. * * * * * *

Mr. Lincoln presents, more powerfully than any man, that quality in the American mind which, though in weak men it becomes boastfulness, is not really this in root, but a strange, an almost humiliated trust in the structural power of that political nature which, without any statesman's co-operation, is slowly building up a free nation, or free nations, on that great continent, with an advance as steady as that of the rivers or the tides. It is the phase of political thought most opposite to, though it is sometimes compared with the Caesarism that is growing up on the European side of the Atlantic. The Emperor of the French thinks the Imperial organ of the nation almost greater than the nation—certainly an essential part of it. It is men like Mr. Lincoln, who really believe devoutly, indeed too passively, in the "logic of events," but then they think the logic of events the work of God. The Caesar thinks also of the logic of events, but he regards himself not as its servant but its prophet. He makes events when the logic would not appear complete without his aid; points the slow logic of the Almighty with epigram; fits the unrolling history with showy, rhetorical denoucments; cuts the knot of raveled providences, and stills the birth throes of revolution with the chloroform of despotism. Mr. Lincoln is a much slower sort of politician, but we doubt if any politician has ever shown less personal ambition and a larger power of trust.

Mr. Lincoln had entered the legal profession soon after he attained to manhood —struggling with many difficulties in educating himself for his chosen work, as already seen. It was to this profession that he devoted his efforts for the most of his life, aiming to acquit himself well in his honorable calling. Judged in this character alone, had he been raised to no high political position, he would have ranked among the first men of the nation. A just estimate of his professional character can, perhaps, best be found in the language of leading men, with whom he was intimately associated at the bar for a quarter of a century. His friend, Hon. David Davis, of the United States Supreme Court, bears this testimony :

I enjoyed for over twenty years the personal friendship of Mr. Lincoln. We were admitted to the bar about the same time, and traveled for many years, what is known in Illinois as the Eighth Judicial Circuit. In 1848, when I first went on the bench, the circuit embraced fourteen counties, and Mr. Lincoln


817

went with the court to every county. Railroads were not then in use, and our mode of travel was either on horseback or in buggies.

This simple life he loved, preferring it to the practice of the law in a city, where, although the remuneration would be greater, the opportunity would be less for mixing with the great body of the people who loved him and whom he loved. Mr. Lincoln was transferred from the bar of that circuit to the office of President of the United States, having been without official position since he left Congress in 1849. In all the elements that constitute the great lawyer he had few equals. He was great both at nisi prius and before an appellate tribunal. He seized the strong points of a cause, and presented them with clearness and great compactness. His mind was logical and direct, and he did not indulge in extraneous discussion. Generalities and platitudes had no charms for him. An unfailing vein of humor never deserted him, and he was always able to chain the attention of court and jury, when the cause was the most uninteresting, by the appropriateness of his anecdotes.

His power of comparison was large, and he rarely failed in a legal discussion to use that mode of reasoning. The frame-work of his mental and moral being was honesty, and a wrong cause was poorly defended by him. The ability which some eminent lawyers possess of explaining away the bad points of a cause by ingenious sophistry, was denied him. In order to bring into full activity his great powers, it was necessary that he should be convinced of the right and justice of the matter which he advocated. When so convinced, whether the cause was great or small, he was usually successful. He read law books but little, except when the cause in hand made it necessary, yet he was usually self-reliant, depending on his own resources, and rarely consulting his brother lawyers either on the management of his case or on the legal questions involved.

Mr. Lincoln was the fairest and most accommodating of practitioners, granting all favors which he could do consistently with his duty to his client, and rarely availing himself of an unwary oversight of his adversary.

He hated wrong and oppression everywhere, and many a man, whose fradulent conduct was undergoing review in a court of justice has writhed under his terrific indignation and rebukes. He was the most simple and unostentatious of men in his habits, having few wants and those easily supplied. To his honor be it said, that he never took from a client, even when the cause was gained, more than he thought the service was worth and the client could reasonably afford to pay. The peo-


818

ple where he practiced law were not rich, and his charges were always small.

When he was elected President, I question whether there was a lawyer in the circuit who had been at the bar as long a time whose means were not larger. It did not seem to be one of the purposes of his life to accumulate a fortune. In fact, outside of his profession, he had no knowledge of the way to make money, and he never even attempted it.

Mr. Lincoln was loved by his brethren of the bar, and no body of men will grieve more at his death, or pay more sincere tributes to his memory. His presence on the circuit was watched for with interest, and never failed to produce joy and hilarity. When casually absent, the spirits of both bar and people were depressed. He was not fond of controversy, and would compromise a lawsuit whenever practicable.

Judge Drummond, from the bench of the United States Circuit Court at Chicago, paid the following tribute to the memory of Mr. Lincoln, as a member of the bar:

With a probity of character known to all, with an intiective insight into the human heart, with a clearness of statement which was itself an argument, with uncommon power and felicity of illustration —often, it is true, of a plain and homely kind— and with that sincerity and earnestness of manner which carried conviction, he was, perhaps, one of the most successful jury lawyers we have ever had in the State. He always tried a case fairly and honestly. He never intentionally misrepresented the evidence of a witness, nor the argument of an opponent. He met both squarely, and, if he could not explain the one or answer the other, substantially admitted it. He never misstated the law, according to his own intelligent view of it. Such was the transparent candor and integrity of his nature, that he could not well, or strongly, argue a side or a cause that he thought wrong. Of course, he felt it his duty to say what could be said, and to leave the decision to others; but there could be seen in such cases the inward struggles of his own mind. In trying a case, he might occasionally dwell too long upon, or give too much importance to, an inconsiderable point; but this was the exception, and generally he went, straight to the citadel of the cause or the question, and struck home there, knowing, if that were won, the out-works would necessarily fall. He could hardly be called very learned in his profession, and yet he rarely tried a cause without fully understanding the law applicable to it; and I have no hesita-


819

tion in saying he was one of the ablest lawyers I have ever known. If he was forcible before a jury, he was equally so with the court. He detected, with unerring sagacity, the weak points of an opponent's argument, and pressed his own views with overwhelming strength. His efforts were quite unequal, and it might happen that he would not, on some occasions, strike one as at all remarkable. But, let him be thoroughly roused —let him feel that he was right, and that some principle was involved in his cause— and he would come out with an earnestness of conviction, a power of argument, and a wealth of illustration that I have never seen surpassed.

It has been stated since he became President, even by some of his political friends, that he had no marked superiority of mind. Those who said so did not know him, or regarded him with some peculiarity of political bias. No intelligent man who ever watched Mr. Lincoln through a hard-contested case, at the bar, questioned his great ability. In 1838, he met one of the ablest debaters of the country, in a memorable political contest, and discussed questions of the highest importance, and no candid or impartial man ever claimed for his antagonist any superiority in the intellectual conflict. His mind was eminently of a practical, even of a mechanical turn, and he tried a difficult patent cause with a skill, clearness, aud success which excited admiration. He was never a diffuse speaker. His language was not often elegant, or his style classical, but his meaning was unmistakable; and he was at times eloquent with the genuine eloquence of reason and of feeling. Independent of all this, there was pervading the whole man that delightful humor, that genial outflow of human sympathy, which those who knew him intimately can never forget. His frankness, his integrity, his kindness of manner, his sincerity and his goodness of heart (and his heart was as tender as a woman's), made him hosts of personal friends, and he grappled them to himself with hooks of steel. He would do, all his life, more for them than for him-self. Simple in his habits, without pretension of any kind, and distrustful of himself, he was willing to yield precedence and place to others, when he ought to have claimed them for him-self; and he rarely, if ever, sought office, except at the urgent solicitation of his friends. As he never won a cause by unfair means, so he never intentionally did a wrong to any one.

There have been few public men, with regard to whom more reminiscences of an interesting character could be collected than Abraham Lincoln. Unique, individual in his traits, of a melancholic temperament, underlaid by genial humor, warm-


820

hearted and generous, simple, and at times almost childlike in his frankness of speech, he left abiding impressions upon every one who saw him—even during the most casual interview,

Mr. Lincoln had a remarkable memory—recalling countenances, dates, names and incidents, after long years might be thought to have effaced them from his mind, A gentleman who had been introduced to him at the White House, on one occasion, incidentally mentioned a mutual friend, Mr. C——, in Illinois, whom the former had known in boyhood in the State of their birth. "I have known him for now almost thirty years," said Mr. Lincoln. "My first board bill in Springfield began on the 15th of April. 1837; and C——— came along about strawberry time." The coincidence of dates between this and the day of his decease, just twenty-eight years afterward, lends great interest to the fact stated. Referring to the late Senator Douglas at one time he spoke of the first occasion on which he met that distinguished man— then a mere youth, but recently come to Illinois. It was at Vandalia. during a session of the Legislature, of which Mr. Lincoln was a member. "He was then," said Mr. Lincoln, "extremely thin —being so short in stature, too— I think he was about the least man I ever saw."

Mr. Lincoln had great quickness of perception, and fineness of sense beyond what many seem to have supposed. One evening, while the writer was conversing with him in his room, there was a rap at the door, and the President at once said, with a pleasant smile. "That, is Charles Sumner" —and the Massachusetts Senator presently entered the room. On one of the last interviews it was ever my privilege to have with President Lincoln —rather late in the evening— he seemed unusually care-worn and weary, though cheerful in tone and kind in manner. Detaining him but a short time, I rose to go, when he requested me to wait for an instant, until he was gone. " I must have rest," said he, "and there are still persons waiting out-side; I hear their voices now." He then hastily retired by the private way, which had recently been constructed in the rear of the ante-room. He either imagined the voices spoken of or else his organs of hearing must have been preternaturally acute.

Mr. Lincoln's powers of endurance were remarkable. Had


821

not this been the case, he could hardly have survived the first three months of his Presidency. Added to the distractions of the time, with a monster rebellion impending, and with the uncertain fidelity of many about him in positions that could hardly be immediately filled with new men, he gave unusual attention to the various applications and recommendations for place, treating all with courteous attention, and sympathetically considering their "claims." As time went on, his cares only increased. An immense army and a greatly increased navy were to be organized, and a multiplicity of business arose, such as his predecessors never knew, while none of the official duties common to them were diminished. It is an error to suppose, as some have done, that he had not superior administrative abilities. Without these, he could never have brought his work to the successful close which he lived to see. It was yet believed by many of his friends that he might have thrust aside more of the details of his office, without detriment to the public service, and with advantage to himself. He thought differently, and labored conscientiously, in view of his responsibility to the people, to satisfy the demands upon his personal attention. On one occasion the writer found him with a huge roll of manuscript before him, to which his consideration had been earnestly requested. It was the record in a court-martial case, of vital consequence to the party concerned, who hoped for some relief in the last resort. The amount of business to which he gave attention, of this character alone, was perhaps greater than any one of ordinary endurance should be charged with; yet, to a ventured suggestion that he might feel warranted in turning this work over chiefly to the Bureau of Military Justice, he replied with emphasis: "I can not do it. The people would come in here in a mass, and turn me out of this place if I did it." He conscientiously felt that he was under obligation to exert to the utmost, the personal faculties the people had sought to employ in giving him executive power.

These and his manifold other labors told severely upon him, as could be especially seen in the last year or two of his life. He came to have a certain chronic weariness of the


822

mind, which rest or recreation could only superficially relieve. As he sometimes expressed it, the remedy "seemed never to reach the tired spot."

Speaking once of a prominent man who had the year before been violent in his manifestations of hostility to the Administration, but was now ostensibly favoring the same policy previously denounced, Mr. Lincoln expressed his entire readiness to treat the past as if it had not been, and said: "I choose always to make my statute of limitations a short one."

His aversion to calls for a speech, that must be merely "off-hand," was decided; yet, unwilling altogether to disappoint the crowds who perhaps too often made such demands of him, he seldom excused himself altogether from speaking. One evening, when the writer was conversing with him in his room, his quick ear caught the sound of approaching music, and his countenance suddenly changed, as he inquired, though readily divining, its meaning. This was presently announced by an usher, and Mr. Lincoln, as he arose to go forward to the front window, lingered a moment in his room, and said: "These serenade speeches bother me a good deal, they are so hard to make. I feel very much like the steam doctor, who said he could get along well enough in his way of practice with almost every case, but he was always a little puzzled when it came to mending a broken leg." The serenading party happened to be a delegation of colored men, whose upturned faces and hilarious manifestations, as he appeared before them would have made a study worthy of the greatest artist. They were rejoicing over emancipation in Maryland; and Mr. Lincoln, in a really felicitous though entirely unstudied speech, never reported, gave most appropriate advice to his auditors as to the manner of turning to good account their privileges as freemen.

Mr. Lincoln was never willing to hear any disparagement of another, to impair his influence with the appointing power, or to further the interests of a rival candidate for place. A delegation of Californians waited on Mr. Lincoln soon after his first inauguration, presenting a written address intended to counteract what they considered an undue regard


823

for the recommendations of a distinguished Pacific Senator, since deceased, and to remonstrate against some of the candidates of his choice. The paper was, perhaps, not too discreetly worded, and when it was put in Mr. Lincoln's hand, he warmly repelled the attack on his friend, and thrust the writing into the fire, as his answer to its representations.

Toward even those who had given him ample cause for hostility, he uniformly manifested feelings of kindness. He was never inclined to pursue a man who had fallen from favor. After the removal of McClellan, he once said that he would most gladly, were it in the nature of things possible, assign that general to another command, and relieve the unpleasantness of his position, in which he (Mr. Lincoln) found no gratification.

The sad failure of the Peninsular campaign, as the first anniversary of the Bull Run disaster approached, made a deep impression on Mr. Lincoln's mind. It was truly a critical time for the nation. In his great anxiety he determined to visit the army in person at Harrison's Landing, which he did on the 8th of July (1862). Whatever physical recreation he may have found in this visit, it did not change his feeling in regard to military prospects. It was no fitting time to divide the North, or to distract the army by displacing the unsuccessful commander, whose factitious fame still gave him a hold upon the army and the country. How far the loyal States would respond to new and heavy demands for more troops remained to be seen. A most important emergency had arisen, in which, were it possible, some new power must he brought to his aid. It was under these circumstances, and while on board the steamboat, returning from Harrison's Landing to Washington, that Mr. Lincoln wrote the first draft of his Emancipation Proclamation. This he retouched soon after reaching Washington, and read the document to his Cabinet. After due consideration, he approved the suggestion of Mr. Seward, that the proclamation would have more weight at some other time, when the military situation should be less dubious. The people nobly responded to the call for recruits, but meanwhile the division of our forces in Virginia, through McClellan's


824

tardy movements, bad resulted in further disasters. The battle of Antietam was fought on the 17th of September. " I remember," said Mr. Lincoln, in the conversation on which the foregoing statements are based, "when I heard, in the morning, that a battle was going on, it at once occurred to me that if we gained the victory, now would be the time to issue the proclamation." This he did, as is well known, on the 22d of September.

The subjoined incident is related by Hon. Schuyler Colfax, of Indiana:

One morning, over two years ago, calling upon him on business, I found him looking more than usually pale and careworn, and inquired the reason. He replied, with the bad news he had received at a late hour the previous night, which had not yet been communicated to the press, adding that he had not closed his eyes or breakfasted; and, with an expression I shall never forget, he exclaimed, uHow willingly would I exchange places to-day with the soldier who sleeps on the ground in the Army of the Potomac."

Auguste Langel, a French writer, who visited this country not long since, gives, among other reminiscences, the following account of a visit to Ford's Theater —occupying the fatal box in company with Mr. Lincoln (some months before his death):

I was, as may be supposed, more occupied with the President than the performance. He, however, listened with attention, though he knew the play by heart. He followed all the incidents of it with the greatest interest, and talked with Mr. Sumner and myself only between the acts. His second son, a boy of 11, was near him, and Mr. Lincoln held him nearly the whole time, leaning on him, and often pressed the laughing or astonished face of the child on his broad chest. To his many questions he replied with the greatest patience. Certain allusions of King Lear to the sorrows of paternity caused a cloud to pass over the President's brow, for he had lost a young child at the White House, and never was consoled. I may be pardoned for dwelling on recollections so personal, which, under other circumstances, I should communicate only to a few friends; for it was on that very spot where I saw him with his child and his friends that death struck down one so full of meekness, as gentle as a woman, as simple as a child. It was


825

there he received the Parthian arrow of vanquished slavery, and fell the noble victim of the noblest of causes.

Rev. Dr. Thompson, of New York, mentions these incidents as within his own knowledge:

Mr. Lincoln was asked whether he thought the victory at Atlanta or the Chicago platform contributed most to secure his re-election. "I guess it was the victory," he observed; "At any rate, of the two, I would rather have the victory repeated." The death of the guerrilla Morgan being mentioned, Mr. Lincoln remarked; "Well, I wouldn't crow about anybody's death; but I guess I can take this death as resignedly as I can anybody's." Then he added, with indignation, that Morgan was a coward, a negro-driver, a kind of man that the North knows nothing about.

Mr. Carpenter, the artist, whose painting, " The Signing of the Emancipation Proclamation," is well known, makes the following statement:

It has been the business of my life, as you know, to study the human face, and I say now, as I have said repeatedly to friends, Mr. Lincoln had the saddest face I ever painted. During some of the dark days of last spring and summer I saw him at times when his careworn, troubled appearance was enough to bring tears of sympathy into the eyes of his most violent enemies. I recall particularly, one day, when, having occasion to pass through the main hall of the domestic apartments, I found him all alone, pacing up and down a narrow passage, his hands behind him, his head bent forward upon his breast, heavy black rings under his eyes, showing sleepless nights—altogether such a picture of the effects of weighty cares and responsibilities as I never had seen. And yet he always had a kind word, and almost always a genial smile, and it was his way frequently to relieve himself at such times by some harmless pleasantry. I recollect an instance told me by one of the most radical members of the last Congress. It was during the darkest days of 1862. He called upon the President early one morning, just after news of a disaster. It was a time of great anxiety, if not despondency. Mr. Lincoln commenced, telling some trifling incident, which the Congress-man was in no mood to hear. He rose to his feet and said, " Mr, President, I did not come here this morning to hear stories; it is too serious a time." Instantly the smile dis-


826

appeared from Mr. Lincoln's face, who exclaimed, " A——, sit down! I respect you as an earnest, sincere man. You can not be more anxious than I am constantly, and I say to you now, that were it not for this occasional vent I should die!"

The following reminiscences of the Hampton Roads conferrence, are taken from a Southern paper, and are understood to have been written by A. H. Stephens, or at his instance:

Mr. Lincoln declared that the only ground upon which he could rest the justice of the war —either with his own people or with foreign powers— was that it was not a war for conquest, but that the States never had been separated from the Union. Consequently, he could not recognise another government inside of the one of which he alone was President, nor admit the separate independence of States that were yet a part of the Union. "That," said he, "would be doing what you have so long asked Europe to do in vain, and be resigning the only thing the armies of the Union are fighting for."

Mr. Hunter made a long reply, insisting that the recognition of Davis' power to make a treaty was the first and indispensable step to peace, and referring to the correspondence between King Charles the First and his Parliament, as a reliable precedent of a constitutional ruler treating with rebels.

Mr. Lincoln's face then wore that indescribable expression which generally preceded his hardest hits, and he remarked: "Upon questions of history I must refer you to Mr. Seward, for he is posted in such things, and I don't profess to be bright. My only distinct recollection of the matter is, that Charles lost his head." * * *

The special report made by Stephens, Hunter and Campbell, on this conference, as quoted in the article just cited from, says:

Mr. Seward then remarked: "Mr. President, it is as well to inform these gentlemen that yesterday Congress acted upon the amendment to the Constitution abolishing slavery."

Mr. Lincoln stated that was true, and suggested that there was a question as to the right of the insurgent States to return at once and claim a right to vote upon the amendment, to which the concurrence of two-thirds of the States was required.

He stated that it would be desirable to have the institution of slavery abolished by the consent of the people as soon as possible —he hoped within six years. He also stated that four hundred millions of dollars might be offered as compensation


827

to the owners, and remarked: "You would be surprised were I to give you the names of those who favor that."

Mr. Hunter said something about the inhumanity of leaving so many poor old negroes and young children destitute by encouraging the able-bodied negroes to run away, and asked, what are they —the helpless— to do?

Mr. Lincoln said that reminded him of an old friend in Illinois, who had a crop of potatoes, and did not want to dig them. So he told a neighbor that he would turn in his hogs, and let them dig them for themselves. "But," said the neighbor" the frost will soon be in the ground, and when the soil is hard frozen, what will they do then?" To which the worthy farmer replied, "Let 'em root!" Mr. Stephens said he supposed that was the original of "Root Hog, or Die," and a fair indication of the future of the negroes.

Mr. Lincoln's private papers, in the possession of his family, include many letters, memoranda, and other embodiments of his thoughts, which will, no doubt, be hereafter given to the reading world. It must suffice to add here some portion of the writings of this character, not embraced in the preceding pages, on which the seal of privacy does not rest. A few brief speeches are also added.

MR. LINCOLN ON TEMPERANCE.

In response to an address from the Sons of Temperance, in. Washington, on the 29th of September, 1863, Mr. Lincoln made the following remarks :

As a matter of course, it will not be possible for me to make a response co-extensive with the address which you have presented to me. If I were better known than I am, you would not need to be told that, in the advocacy of the cause of temperance, you have a friend and sympathiser in me.

When I was a young man —long ago— before the Sons of Temperance, as an organization had an existence, I, in an humble way, made temperance speeches, and I think I may say that to this day I. have never, by my example, belied what I then said.

In regard to the suggestions which you make for the purpose of the advancement of the cause of temperance in the army, I can not make particular responses to them at this time. To


828

prevent intemperance in the army is even a part of the articles of war. It is part of the law of the land, and was so, I presume, long ago, to dismiss officers for drunkenness. I am not sure that, consistent with the public service, more can be done than has been done. All, therefore, that I can promise you is (if you will be pleased to furnish me with a copy of your address), to have it submitted to the proper department, and have it considered whether it contains any suggestions which will improve the cause of temperance and repress the cause of drunkenness in the army any better than it is already done. I can promise no more than that.

I think that the reasonable men of the world have long since agreed that intemperance is one of the greatest, if not the very greatest, of all evils among mankind. That is not a matter of dispute, I believe. That the disease exists, and that it is a very great one, is agreed upon by all.

The mode of cure Is one about which there may be differences of opinion. You have suggested that in an army —our army— drunkenness is a great evil, and one which, while it exists to a very great extent, we can not expect to overcome so entirely as to leave such successes in our arms as we might have without it. This, undoubtedly, is true, and while it is, perhaps, rather a bad source to derive comfort from, nevertheless, in a hard struggle, I do not know but what it is some consolation to be aware that there is some intemperance on the other side, too; and that they have no right to beat us in physical combat on that ground.

But I have already said more than I expected to be able to say when I began, and if you please to hand me a copy of your address, it shall be considered. I thank you very heartily, gentlemen, for this call, and for bringing with you these very many pretty ladies.

MR. LINCOLN’S "SHORTEST AND BEST SPEECH." There appeared in the Washington Chronicle, of December 7, 1864, this little paragraph, including what Mr. Lincoln him-self pronounced his shortest and best speech —the "report" being in his own words as he gave them:

On Thursday of last week two ladies from Tennessee came before the President, asking the release of their husbands, held as prisoners of war at Johnson's Island. They were put off until Friday, when they came again, and were again put off until Saturday. At each of the interviews one of the ladies


829

urged that her husband was a religious man, and on Saturday, when the President ordered the release of the prisoners, he said to this lady: "You say your husband is a religious man; tell him when you meet him that I say I am not much of a judge of religion, but that, in my opinion, the religion that sets men to rebel and fight against their Government, because, as they think, that Government does not sufficiently help some men to eat their bread in the sweat of other men's faces, is not the sort of religion upon which people can get to heaven."

SPEECH TO OHIO SOLDIERS, AUGUST 18, 1864,

The following speech was made to a regiment of Ohio "hundred-days men," who paid him a visit of respect, as they were about to go home, at the close of their service:

SOLDIERS: You are about to return to your homes and your friends, after having, as I learn, performed in camp a comparatively short term of duty in this great contest. I am greatly obliged to you, and to all who have come forward at the call of their country. I wish it to be more generally understood what the country is now engaged in. We have, as all will agree, a free government, where every man has a right to be equal with every other man. In this great struggle this form of government and every form of human rights are endangered, if our enemies succeed. There is more involved in this contest than is realized by every one. There is involved in this struggle the question whether your children and my children shall enjoy the privileges we have enjoyed. I say this in order to impress upon you, if you are not already so impressed, that no small matter should divert us from our great purpose. There may be some inequalities in the practical application of our system. It is fair that each man shall pay taxes in exact proportion to the value of his property; but if we should wait, before collecting a tax, to adjust the taxes upon each man in exact proportion with every other man, we should never collect any tax at all. There may be mistakes made sometimes; things may be done wrong while all the officers of the Government do all they can to prevent mistakes. But I beg of you, as citizens of this great republic, not to let your minds be carried off from the great work we have before us. This struggle is too large for you to be diverted from it by any small matter. When you return to your homes, rise up to the hight of a generation of men worthy of a free government,


830

and we will carry out the great work we have commenced, I return to you my sincere thanks for the honor you have done me this afternoon.

SPEECH TO OHIO SOLDIERS, AUGUST 31, 1864.

On a similar occasion, at a later day, Mr. Lincoln made the following speech to another regiment:

Soldiers of the 148th Ohio: I am most happy to meet you on this occasion. I understand that it has been your honorable privilege to stand, for a brief period, in the defense of your country, and that now you are on your way to your homes. I congratulate you, and those who are waiting to bid you welcome home from the war; and permit me, in the name of the people, to thank you for the part you have taken in this struggle for the life of the nation. You are soldiers of the Republic, everywhere honored and respected. Whenever I appear before a body of soldiers, I feel tempted to talk to them of the nature of the struggle in which we are engaged. I look upon it as an attempt on the one hand to overwhelm and destroy the national existence, while on our part we are striving to maintain the government and institutions of our fathers, to enjoy them our-selves, and transmit them to our children, and our children's children forever.

To do this, the constitutional administration of our Government must be sustained, and I beg of you not to allow your minds or your hearts to be diverted from the support of all necessary measures for that purpose, by any miserable picayune arguments addressed to your pockets, or inflammatory appeal made to your passions and your prejudices.

It is vain and foolish to arraign this man or that for the part he has taken, or has not taken, and to hold the Government responsible for his acts. In no administration can there be perfect equality of action and uniform satisfaction rendered by all. But the Government must be preserved in spite of the acts of any man or set of men. It is worthy of your every effort. Nowhere in the world is presented a Government of so much liberty and equality. To the humblest and poorest among us, are held out the highest privileges and positions. The present moment finds me at the White House, yet there is as good a chance for your children as there was for my father's.

Again, I admonish you not to be turned from your stern purpose of defending our beloved country and its free institutions, by any arguments urged by ambitious and designing men, but stand fast to the Union and the old flag.

Soldiers, I bid you God-speed to your homes.


831

LETTER TO GOV. HAHN, OF LOUISIANA.

EXECUTIVE MANSION,
WASHINGTON, March 13, 1864.

HON. MICHAEL HAHN— My Dear Sir: I congratulate you on having fixed your name in history as the first Free-State Governor of Louisiana. Now you are about to have a convention which, among other things, will probably define the elective franchise. I barely suggest, for your private consideration whether some of the colored people may not be let in, as, for instance, the very intelligent and especially those who have fought gallantly in our ranks. They would probably help, in some trying time to come, to keep the jewel of liberty in the family of freedom. But this is only a suggestion, not to the public, but to you alone.
Truly yours,
A. LINCOLN.

LETTER TO MRS. ELIZA B. GURNEY.

EXECUTIVE MANSION,
WASHINGTON, September 4,1864.

ELIZA B. GURNEY— My esteemed Friend: I have not for-gotten, probably never shall forget, the very impressive occasion when yourself and friends visited me on a Sabbath fore-noon, two years ago, nor has your kind letter, written nearly a year later, ever been forgotten.

In all it has been your purpose to strengthen my reliance upon God. I am much indebted to the good Christian people of the country for their constant prayers and consolations, and to no one of them more than to yourself.

The purposes of the Almighty are perfect and must prevail, though we erring mortals may fail to accurately perceive them in advance.

We hoped for a happy termination of this terrible war long before this, but God knows best and has ruled otherwise. We shall yet acknowledge His wisdom and our own errors therein. Meanwhile we must work earnestly in the best light He gives us, trusting that so working still conduces to the great ends He ordains. Surely He intends some great good to follow this mighty convulsion, which no mortal could make and no mortal could stay. Your people, the Friends, have had and are having very great trials on principles and faith. Opposed to both war and oppression, they can only practically oppose oppression by war. In this hard dilemma some have chosen one horn and some the other. For those appealing to me on conscientious grounds, I have done, and shall do, the best I could


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and can, in my own conscience, under my oath to the law. That you believe this I doubt not, and, believing it, I shall still receive for our country and myself your earnest prayers to our Father in Heaven.
Your sincere friend,
A. LINCOLN.

LETTER TO A WIDOW WHO HAD LOST FIVE SONS IN THE WAR.
EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON,
November 21, 1864.

DEAR MADAM— I have been shown, in the files of the War Department, a statement of the Adjutant-General of Massachusetts, that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine, which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I can not refrain from tendering to you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours, to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom. Yours, very sincerely and respectfully,
A. LINCOLN.
To MRS. BIXBY, Boston, Massachusetts.

LETTER TO DEACON JOHN PHILLIPS —104 YEARS OLD.
EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON,
November 21, 1864.

MY DEAR SIR—I have heard of the incident at the polls, in your town, in which you acted so honorable a part, and I take the liberty of writing to you to express my personal gratitude for the compliment paid me by the suffrage of a citizen so venerable. The example of such devotion to civic duties, in one whose days have already been extended an average life-time beyond the Psalmist's limits, can not but be valuable and fruitful. It is not for myself only, but for the country, which you have, in your sphere, served so long and so well, that I thank you.
Your friend and servant,
A LINCOLN.
DEACON JOHN PHILLIPS.

AN OLD LETTER. The following letter of Mr. Lincoln, but recently published,


833

was written when he was at the age of twenty-seven. He was then a candidate for re-election to the Legislature of Illinois, having previously served one term of two years:

NEW SALEM, June 21,1836.

DEAR COLONEL —I am told that during my absence last week, you passed through this place, and stated publicly that you were in possession of a fact, or facts, which, if known to the public, would entirely destroy the prospects of N. W. Edwards and myself at the ensuing election; but that, through favor to us, you would forbear to divulge them. No one has needed favors more than I, and, generally, few have been less unwilling to accept them; but in this case, favor to me would be injustice to the public, and, therefore, I must beg your pardon for declining it. That I once had the confidence of the people of Sangamon county, is sufficiently evident, and if I have since done any thing, either by design or misadventure, which, if known, would subject me to a forfeiture of that confidence, he that knows of that thing and conceals it, is a traitor to his country's interest.

I find myself wholly unable to form any conjecture of what fact, or facts, real or supposed, you spoke. But my opinion of your veracity will not permit me, for a moment, to doubt that you, at least, believed what you said. I am flattered with the personal regard you manifested for me; but I hope that, on more mature reflection, you will view the public interest as a paramount consideration, and therefore determine to let the worst come.

I here assure you that the candid statement of facts on your part, however low it may sink me, shall never break the ties of personal friendship between us.

I wish an answer to this, and you are at liberty to publish both, if you choose.
Very respectfully,
A. LINCOLN.
Col. ROBERT ALLEN.

AN EARLY SPEECH.

In a debate in the Illinois House of Representatives, in December, 1839 —near the opening of the Harrison canvass— Mr. Lincoln is reported* to have made a speech, from which the subjoined paragraphs are extracted:


834

Many free countries have lost their liberty, and ours may lose hers; but if she shall, be it my proudest plume, not that I was the last to desert, but that I never deserted her. I know that the great volcano at Washington, aroused and directed by the evil spirit that reigns there, is belching forth the lava of political corruption in a current broad and deep, which is sweeping with frightful velocity over the whole length and breadth of the land, bidding fair to leave unscathed no green spot or living thing, while on its bosom are riding, like demons on the waves of hell, the imps of the Evil Spirit, and fiendishly torturing and taunting all those who dare resist its destroying course with the hopelessness of their effort; and knowing this, I can not deny that all may be swept away. Broken by it, I, too, may be; bow to it I never will. The probability that we may fall in the struggle, ought not to deter us from the support of a cause which we deem to be just. It shall not deter me.

If I ever feel the soul within me elevate and expand to those dimensions not wholly unworthy of its Almighty architect, it is when I contemplate the cause of my country deserted by all the world beside, and I standing up boldly and alone, hurling defiance at her victorious oppressors. And here, without contemplating consequences, before high Heaven, and in the face of the whole world, I swear eternal fidelity to the just cause, as I deem it, of the land of my life, my liberty and my love. And who, that thinks with me, will not fearlessly adopt the oath I take? Let none falter who thinks he is right, and we may succeed. But if, after all, we shall fall, be it so. We shall have the proud consolation of saying to our conscience, and to the departed shade of our country's freedom, that the cause approved by our judgments, and adored by our hearts in disaster, in chains, in torture, and in death, we never failed in defending.

LETTER TO MR. CHOATE, OF NEW YORK.

EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON,
December 19, 1864.

MY DEAR, SIR —I have the honor to acknowledge the reception of your kind invitation to be present at the annual festival of the New England Society, to commemorate the landing of the Pilgrims, on Thursday, the 22d of this month.

My duties will not allow me to avail myself of your kindness. I can not but congratulate you and the country, how-ever, upon the spectacle of devoted unanimity presented by the people at home, the citizens that form our marching columns, and the citizens that fill our squadrons on the sea —all


835

animated by the same determination to complete and perpetuate the work our fathers began and transmitted.

The work of the Plymouth emigrants was the glory of their age. While we reverence their memory, let us not forget how vastly greater is our opportunity. I am, very truly, your obedient servant,
A. LINCOLN.
JOSEPH H. CHOATE, ESQ.

LETTER TO DR. JOHN MACLEAN, Of PRINCETON COLLEGE.

In December, 1864, the degree of Doctor of Laws was conferred upon President Lincoln, by a vote of the Board of Trustees of Princeton College, in New Jersey, of which fact he was duly notified by the President of that institution, Dr. Maclean. Mr. Lincoln sent the following letter, in acknowledgment of this honor:

EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON,
December 27,1864.

MY DEAR SIR —I have the honor to acknowledge the reception of your note of the of the 20th of December, conveying the announcement that the Trustees of the College of New Jersey had conferred upon me the degree of Doctor of Laws.

The assurance conveyed by this high compliment, that the course of the Government which I represent has received the approval of a body of gentlemen of such character and intelligence, in this time of public trial, is most grateful to me.

Thoughtful men must feel that the fate of civilization upon this continent is involved in the issue of our contest. Among the most gratifying proofs of this conviction, is the hearty devotion everywhere exhibited by our schools and colleges to the national cause.

I am most thankful if my labors have seemed to conduce to the preservvtion of those institutions under which, alone, we can expect good government, and in its train, sound learning and the progress of the liberal arts.

I am, Sir, very truly, your obedient servant,
A. LINCOLN.
DR. JOHN MACLEAN.

LETTER TO GOV. FLETCHER, OF MISSOURI.

EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON,
February 20, 1865.

His Excellency, Gov. Fletcher:
It seems that there is now no organized military force of the


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enemy in Missouri, and yet that destruction of property and life is rampant everywhere. Is not the cure for this within easy reach of the people themselves? It cannot but be that every man, not naturally a robber or cut-throat, would gladly put an end to this state of things. A large majority, in every locality, must feel alike upon this subject; and if so, they only need to reach an understanding, one with another. Each leaving all others alone solves the problem; and surely each would do this, but for his apprehension that others will not leave him alone. Can not this mischievous distrust be removed? Let neighborhood meetings be everywhere called and held, of all entertaining a sincere purpose for mutual security in the future, whatever they may heretofore have thought, said or done, about the war, or about any thing else. Let all such meet, and, waiving all else, pledge each to cease harassing others, and to make common cause against whoever persists in making, aiding or encouraging, further disturbance. The practical means they will best know how to adopt and apply. At such meetings, old friendships will cross the memory, and honor and Christian charity will come in to help.

Please consider whether it may not be well to suggest this to the now afflicted people of Missouri.
Yours, truly,
A. LINCOLN.

MR. LINCOLN TO THE MINERS OF THE FAR WEST.

On the fatal 14th of April, Hon. Schuyler Colfax, then about to start for the far-off mining regions, received from Mr. Lincoln a verbal message for the miners, which was thus given in a speech by Mr. C. in Colorado:

"Mr. Colfax, I want you to take a message from me to the miners whom you visit. I have," said he, "very large ideas of the mineral wealth of our nation. I believe it practically inexhaustible. It abounds all over the Western country —from the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific, and its development has scarcely commenced. During the war, when we were adding a couple of millions of dollars every day to our national debt, I did not care about encouraging the increase in the volume of our precious metals. We had the country to save first. But, now that the Rebellion is overthrown, and we know pretty nearly the amount of our national debt, the more gold and silver we mine, makes the payment of that debt so much the easier. Now," said he, speaking with much emphasis, " I am going to encourage that in every possible way. We shall have hundreds of thousands of disbanded soldiers, and many have


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feared that their return home in such great numbers might paralyze industry by furnishing suddenly a greater supply of labor than there will be a demand for. I am going to try and attract them to the hidden wealth of our mountain ranges where there is room enough for all. Immigration, which even the war has not stopped, will land upon our shores hundreds of thousands more per year, from over-crowded Europe. I intend to point them to the gold and silver that waits for them in the West. Tell the miners, from me, that I shall promote their interests to the utmost of my ability, because their prosperity is the prosperity of the nation; and, "said he, his eye kindling with enthusiasm, "we shall prove, in a very few years, that we are, indeed, the TREASURY OF THE WORLD."

HIS SPEECH AT INDEPENDENCE HALL.

These quotations from the written and spoken words of Mr. Lincoln, can not be more fitly closed than with the remarkable speech which he made at Independence Hall, in Philadelphia, on Washington's birthday, while on his way to the National Capital, to enter upon the duties of the Presidency. He had taken his life in his hand, as he well knew, in thus responding to the call of the people. He seems at the moment, to have almost foreseen the end which awaited him, and his unpremeditated words rise into prophetic grandeur, as he stands face to face with the possible —and now actual result:

I am filled with deep emotion at finding myself standing here in the place where were collected together the wisdom, the patriotism, the devotion to the principle from which sprung the institutions under which we live. You have kindly suggested to me that in my hands is the task of restoring peace to our distracted country. I can say, in return, sir, that all the political sentiments I entertain have been drawn, so far as I have been able to draw them, from the sentiments which originated and were given to the world from this hall in which we stand. I have never had a feeling, politically, that did not spring from the sentiments embodied in the Declaration of Independence. I have often pondered over the dangers which were incurred by the men who assembled here and adopted the Declaration of Independence. I have pondered over the toils that were endured by the officers and soldiers of the army who achieved that independence. I have often inquired of myself what great principle or idea it was that kept this Confederacy


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so long together. It was not the mere mutter of the separation of the colonies from the mother land, but something in that declaration giving liberty, not alone to the people of this country, but hope for the world for all future time, it was that which gave promise that in due time the weights should be lifted from the shoulders of all men, and that all should have an equal chance. This is the sentiment embodied in the Declaration of Independence,

How, my friends, can this country be saved upon that basis? If it can, I will consider myself one of the happiest men in the world if I can help to save it. If it can t be saved upon that principle, it will be truly awful. But if this country can not be saved without giving up that principle, I was about to say. I would rather be assassinated on the spot than to surrender it.

Now, in my view of the present aspect of affairs, there is no need of bloodshed and war. There is no necessity for it. I am not in favor of such a course, and I may say, in advance, there will be no bloodshed unless it be forced upon the Government. The Government will not use force unless force is used against it. [Prolonged applause, and cries of " That's the proper sentiment."] My friends, this is a wholly unprepared speech. I did not expect to be called upon to say a word when I came here. I supposed I was merely to do something toward raising this flag. I may, therefore, have said something indis- creet. But I have said nothing but what I am willing to live by, and, in the pleasure of Almighty God, die by.

From the cabin to the White House — from a lowly birth to an honored death, at the summit of human glory — these pages have imperfectly traced the earthly course of ABRAHAM LINCOLN. He is now where praise and blame alike fall unheeded "on the dull, cold ear" of the dead, yet one comes reluctantly to aay final summing up of the labors and the character of one so lately gone, and still so spiritually present. He served the people. He saved the nation. He gave his life for his country. His name will be one of heroic grandeur for all time. His fame will be perennial as the sun, While Liberty lives, this her chief martyr will be the central figure among her most illustrious devotees. He finished his work. and its renown is not alone for a transient generation, but for the wide world and for the whole future,

What Robert Burns has, proverbially, been to the people of


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his native land, and, to a certain extent, of all lands, as a poet, Abraham Lincoln, early became to us as a statesman and a patriot, by his intimate relations alike with the humbler and the higher walks of life. By his own native energy and endowment, he rose from a place of humble obscurity to a commanding position and power among his fellow-men, and achieved an enduring fame. The experiences of the "toiling millions," whether of gladness or of sorrow, had been his experiences. He had an identity with them, such as common trials and common emotions produced, He had become in person, no less than in principle, a genuine representative man in the cause of free labor.

As a ruler, no man ever took the people into his confidence so unreservedly and fully —discarding the diplomatic devices of European statesmanship, which erect so many barriers between the governing and the governed. His policy was unfeignedly democratic. In accepting a great public trust, he endeavored always to be in harmony with those who gave it. He carried out the popular will, so far as in him lay, discarding the imperial idea which would force the masses into subjection to the will of one leading mind. He was "controlled by events," and "did not control them," after the vain imagination of a Napoleon. His strength lay in striving to embody and execute the mind of the nation, not to direct its thought and will. The greatness of Mr. Lincoln lay not in contesting, defying, or deluding the masses in their purposes, but in giving those purposes development and effect.

Mr. Lincoln knew how to be reticent, as occasion required, and how to be honest and open whenever matured decisions were passing into speech and act. He was never precipitate; and when he ''put his foot down," it was never to recall the step deliberately taken. He did not move forward rapidly enough for some; he was in advance of many; but always keeping near what may be termed his skirmishing line, he, moved forward whenever it appeared that his main column could safely move with him. He was not of the material of which reformers, a whole generation in advance of their time,


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could be made; yet he recognized their uses, and was never indifferent to whatever in their aspirations had reality of promise.

He grew upon the affections and confidence of the people, which he had no art for suddenly captivating. He was never forced upon them by political management. His honors were duly ripened in the open air and sunlight —never forced to an artificial ruddiness or unnatural proportions under cover. The incident of his election as captain of volunteers in 1832 —the confidence of his fellows outrunning his own aspiration —is a type of all his advancements, in his own State and in the nation. From the time of his first appearance in the Illinois Legislature, he was a man of mark as a politician in the best sense. From his earliest connection with the bar as an advocate and counsellor, more than ordinary success was expected of him. A sterling native ability was conceded to him. He wanted only development and cultivation. And to the neces¬sary study for this end, it was at once remarked how closely he applied himself. As was said of him in those days, when not actively engaged, he was "always thinking." He was an "improving man." Such an one, with great inherent capacities, is capable of the highest attainment. Mr. Lincoln's life is a grand exemplar for the youth who worthily aspires. All the space, from the nethermost to the topmost round of the ladder —with the aid of no adventitious circumstances, and in spite of the most depressing hindrances —was thus surmounted by the once obscure worker.

This great success, it must not be overlooked, and can not be too earnestly impressed upon the young, was partly due to the remarkable purity of his private life and to the rugged honesty of purpose, in his earliest days as in his latest, which were at the basis of his character. He unhesitatingly and unswervingly believed in the right, the true, the good —not simply as on the whole preferable to their opposites, or even as infinitely worthier of his regard, but as the only possible objects of his faith. He had a reverent and abiding trust in a beneficent and all-controlling Providence. He saw the presence of God in all national and individual life, and devoutly


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sought His guidance and spiritual strength in all his trials Though never demonstrative on this subject, and recoiling from any doubtful pretensions, he had profoundly earnest religious sentiments and convictions. His conscience was ever active, clear and strong. His faith in God, and his worshipful trust, came out more and more visibly during the later years of his life. Who, that knew him well, can point to any man in his whole circle of acquaintance, however wide, as a truer exemplar of the Christian character as set forth in the Sermon on the Mount? In certain outward restraints or formalities, and in merely negative virtues, others went beyond him, but few, very few in this world, have ever more truly lived the life of purity, of charity, of universal good-will, of gentle forgiveness, of self-denying devotion to the interests of humanity, of kindness to the poor, of sympathy for the oppressed, and of submission to the Divine will, as enjoined by the precept and example of Christ.

Mr. Lincoln's face was rather striking than attractive at the first view. Its plainness was proverbial. But the power of its expression, the winningness of its smile, were such, that you carried away the impression of a noble and pleasing countenance. It was written all over with the history of his struggles and triumphs. An olive complexion preserved the memory of his first seven years in a Southern clime. His deep-set, clear, steady eye, told of earnest study, of assured attainment, of confirmed self-mastery. He had no unsubdued passion — or, if a sense of indignation occasionally got the better of him, it was not from wrong to himself but to a friend, or to a class, or to the nation. A terrible civil war, which he greatly dreaded, and labored earnestly to avert, impressed numberless lines on his brow and cheeks. He had had, too, his private sorrows, which deepened the native sadness of his countenance —especially the loss of two tenderly-loved boys, the one before, the other after, his elevation to the Presidency. A wide range of emotions —the extremes of sunlight and shadow— passed successively over these masculine features, in all of which strength and power were manifest.

His humor was proverbial, yet nothing could be wider of the


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mark than to represent him as a "jesting" trifler. A trifler he never was, or a jester in any proper sense. His "stories" had always a logical relation to his main subject of conversation. They were never his own inventions. He resorted to them for illustrations, or as a gentle method of putting off importunities, or of avoiding a committal for which he was unprepared. To a zealous advocate for more radical measures in regard to slavery, for instance, early in the war, he spoke of the vivid impression made on his mind by one of the fables of Aesop —an edition of which, illustrated by plain wood-cuts, he read in very early life— in which certain zealous philanthropists are represented as endeavoring to change the color of a negro's skin by assiduous washing; their labors effecting nothing except to give him a cold, of which he nearly died. This tale, with its rude illustration, had an abiding lesson for him, and when told in his peculiar manner, its moral could not be without effect, in at least parrying complaints, if not repressing untimely zeal. The genuine humor which he possessed, is of the kind nearly allied to genius, and its almost invariable accompaniment. It relieved many a hard exigency of his life, and saved him from an unbroken gloom, toward which, at times, he gravitated.

It is idle to conjecture what might have been, or how his life could have been spared from the stealthy malice bent on his destruction. His work was really finished. The "wrath of man" was permitted to accomplish its design, and so over-ruled as to serve the purposes of Providence. To that over-ruling power, the nation, and all who mourn the great bereavement, should reverently bow. The future of our nation, as the past has been, is in the keeping of a Being supremely wise and good, "who knoweth the end from the beginning," and ever "doeth all things well."

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