EVENTS BOTH SAD AND JOYOUS.
To gratify Mr. Seward, Andrew Johnson, of Tennessee, had been placed
on the Republican ticket and elected Vice-President. Mr. Lincoln's
re-inauguration took place under circumstances widely different
from those which attended his inauguration in 1861. Then seven
States had seceded from the Union, and the President had taken the
oath of office surrounded by enemies whose disposition to assassinate
was stronger than their courage to execute. At the re-inauguration
the Federal Government was a substance as well as a name, controlling
great armies and navies, and having nearly conquered the
Confederacy.
The 4th of March, 1865, was rainy and unpleasant, while the streets
and sidewalks were encrusted with from two to ten inches of muddy
paste, through which men and horses plodded wearily. The procession
was a very creditable one, including the model of a monitor on
wheels, and drawn by four white horses. It had a revolving turret
containing a small cannon, which was frequently fired as the
procession moved. There was a large delegation of Philadelphia
firemen, the Washington City Fire Department, the colored Grand
Lodge of Odd Fellows, and the Typographical Society, with a press
on a car from which a programme was printed and distributed. Many
other civic bodies joined the demonstration, and added to its
immensity and impressiveness.
In the Senate Chamber there was the usual attendance of the Diplomatic
Corps, the Supreme Court, those officers of the army and navy who
had received the thanks of Congress, and a number of prominent
citizens. Mr. Lincoln, on his arrival at the Capitol, was shown
to the President's room, where, as is customary during the closing
hour of a session, he signed several bills. Mr. Johnson was escorted
to the Vice-President's room opposite, where he was welcomed by
Mr. Hamlin, the retiring Vice-President. There was nothing unusual
in his appearance, except that he did not seem in robust health.
The usual courtesies being exchanged, the conversation proceeded
on ordinary topics for a few moments, when Mr. Johnson asked Mr.
Hamlin if he had any liquor in his room, stating that he was sick
and nervous. He was told that there was none, but it could be sent
for. Brandy being indicated, a bottle was brought from the Senate
restaurant by one of the pages. It was opened, a tumbler provided,
and Mr. Johnson poured it about two-thirds full. Mr. Hamlin said,
in telling it, that if Mr. Johnson ordinarily took such drinks as
that he must be able to stand a great deal. After a few minutes
the bottle was placed in one of the book-cases out of sight. When,
near twelve o'clock, the Sergeant-at-Arms, Mr. Brown, came to the
door and suggested that the gentlemen get ready to enter the Senate
Chamber, Mr. Hamlin arose, moved to the door, near which the Sergeant-
at-Arms stood, and suggested to Mr. Johnson to come also. The
latter got up and walked nearly to the door, when, turning to Mr.
Hamlin, he said: "Excuse me a moment," and walked back hastily to
where the bottle was deposited. Mr. Hamlin saw him take it out,
pour as large a quantity as before into the glass, and drink it
down like water. They then went into the Senate Chamber.
To the surprise of everybody, the Vice-President, when called on
to take the oath of office, made a maudlin, drunken speech. He
addressed the Diplomatic Corps and the heads of departments in the
most incoherent, and in some instances offensive, manner. The
Republican Senators were horror-stricken, and Colonel Forney vainly
endeavored to make him conclude his harangue; but he would not be
stopped; the brandy had made him crazily drunk, and the mortifying
scene was prolonged until he was told that it was necessary to go
with the President to the eastern front of the Capitol.
Mr. Lincoln's inaugural was delivered before the assembled multitude
in front of the Capitol in a full, clear tone of voice. He went
on to say: "Both parties deprecated war, but one of them would
_make_ war rather than let the nation survive; and the other would
_accept_ war rather than let it perish. And the war came." Then
there arose a deafening shout, for the people felt that the case
had been well stated, and they were all disposed to _accept_ war
rather than let the nation perish.
As the President closed his address Chief Justice Chase arose and
stood facing him. The oath of office was then administered, Mr.
Lincoln exhibiting by his manner and gestures the full concurrence
of mind and heart with the intent of the obligation. As he concluded
the ceremony by taking from the Chief Justice the Bible upon which
he had been sworn, and reverently pressing his lips to it, there
was a marked sensation through the vast audience, followed by a
responsive cheer. Then the cannon near by thundered forth the
announcement that the President of the people's choice had been
inaugurated, the bands struck up the national airs, and there were
hearty rounds of cheers.
The ball on the evening of Mr. Lincoln's re-inauguration was held
in a large hall of the Department of the Interior, which had just
been completed. It was brilliantly lighted and dressed with flags.
Mr. Lincoln and Speaker Colfax entered together, followed by Mrs.
Lincoln upon the arm of Charles Sumner. Mr. Lincoln wore a full
black suit, with white kid gloves, and Mrs. Lincoln was attired in
white silk, with a splendid overdress of rich lace, point lace
bertha and puffs of silk, white fan and gloves. Her hair was
brushed back smoothly, falling in curls upon the neck, while a
wreath of jasmines and violets encircled her head. Her ornaments
were of pearl. Having promenaded the entire length of the room,
they mounted the few steps leading to the seats placed for them
upon the dais, while the crowd gathered densely in front of them.
The army and navy were well represented, adding greatly to the
beauty of the scene in the bright uniforms that everywhere flashed
before the eyes. Admiral Farragut, General Banks, and General
Hooker shone conspicuously, as did also General Halleck, who stood,
smiling and happy, to receive greetings from his friends. The
members of the Cabinet assumed the seats upon the dais reserved
for them, and up to twelve o'clock the crowd continued to pour into
the room.
At twelve o'clock the door was opened for supper, and the crowd
which had been gathered about it for half an hour rushed forward.
Such a crush and scramble as there was! Little screams, broken
exclamations, and hurried protestations against the rush were heard
upon all sides, but no one heeded or cared for anything but to find
a place at the table, at one end of which stood the President, Mrs.
Lincoln, and their suite.
The supper scene was one never to be forgotten. Aside from its
luxury and splendor, there was so much that was ridiculously
laughable connected with it, one naturally looks back upon it in
keen amusement. The tables having been instantly filled up, all
the spaces between the large glass cases containing the office
property were soon crowded to their utmost capacity. Many a fair
creature dropped upon the benches with exclamations of delight,
while their attendants sought to supply them from the table, to
which they had to fight their way. Those who could not get seats
stood around in groups, or sank down upon the floor in utter
abandonment from fatigue.
It was curious to sit and watch the crowd, to hear the gay laugh,
the busy hum of conversation, and the jingle of plates, spoons,
and glasses; to see hands uplifted, bearing aloft huge dishes of
salads and creams, loaves of cake and stores of candies, not
infrequently losing plentiful portions on the way. Many an elegant
dress received its donation of cream, many a tiny slipper bore away
crushed sweets and meats, and lay among fragments of glass and
plates upon the floor.
Meanwhile, it was "thundering all around the heavens," and every
night General Grant, in his humble headquarters at City Point, knew
exactly what had been done. In his midnight despatches to President
Lincoln which were telegraphed all over the loyal States, he narrated
the day's success, giving full credit, when necessary, to the
original genius of Sherman, the daring pluck of Sheridan, the cool
determination of Thomas, the military ability of Terry, and the
sagacious gallantry of Schofield, but never alluding to himself as
having directed these subordinates on their respective paths to
victory.
General Lee and his brave army saw that the end was at hand. They
could no longer be deceived by the verbose platitudes of politicians
about foreign intervention or strategic purposes, and they saw the
stars and stripes approaching on every hand. For four long years
they had fought for their hearths and homes with a bravery that
had elicited the admiration of their opponents, but steady, ceaseless
fighting had thinned their ranks and there were no more men to take
their places. They had been out-manoeuvred, out-marched, and out-
generaled, while hard knocks and repeated blows were daily diminishing
their commands. At length, Richmond was captured, and General Lee
formally surrendered at Appomattox Court-House, ending the greatest
civil war recorded in history.
As the Union armies advanced, thousands of unemployed and impecunious
colored people sought refuge in the District of Columbia. Gathering
up their scanty chattels, they made their way from the houses of
their masters to Washington, the Mecca of their imaginations, with
a firm belief that they would there find freedom and plenty. It
was a leap in the dark, but they imagined it a leap from darkness
into light, and when they reached the national metropolis, with
its public buildings and its busy throng, they believed that at
last they had entered the promised land. Free from care at the
first, they loitered and lounged and slept and laughed in sunny
places. But no feast was offered them; they were invited to no
hospitable homes; the men were no longer offered a few new Treasury
notes of small value if they would enlist, and be counted on the
quota of some Northern town, which would pay the agents five hundred
or six hundred dollars for each recruit thus obtained. They were
strangers in a strange land, despised by their own people who were
residents, and crowded into stable lofts and rude hovels, where
many of them, before they had fairly tasted the blessings of freedom,
sickened and suffered and died.
On the night of Thursday, the 13th of April, 1865, Mr. Lincoln made
his last address to the people who loved him so well. Richmond
had fallen, Davis had fled, Lee had surrendered, and on the previous
day the formal laying down of arms had taken place. The White
House was illuminated, as were the other public buildings, and
deafening shouts arose from the crowds assembled outside, jubilant
over the glorious victories. Mr. Lincoln had written out some
remarks, knowing well that great importance would be attached to
whatever he said. These he read to the rejoicing throng from loose
sheets, holding a candle in his hand as he read. As he finished
each page he would throw it to the ground, where it was picked up
by Master Thad, who was at his father's side, and who occasionally
shouted, "Give me another paper!"
When Mr. Lincoln had concluded his speech, he said: "Now I am
about to call upon the band for a tune that our adversaries over
the way have endeavored to appropriate. But we fairly captured it
yesterday and the Attorney-General gave me his legal opinion that
it is now our property. So I ask the band to play 'Dixie!'"
[Facsimile]
your obtservt
R ELee
ROBERT EDWARD LEE, born at Stratford, Westmoreland County, Virginia,
January 19th, 1807; graduated with first honors at West Point in
1829; served in the Mexican War; resigned in 1861, and was, early
in 1862, appointed commander of the armies about Richmond; early
in 1865 was made Commander-in-Chief of all the Confederate forces;
surrendered at Appomattox, April 9th, 1865; became President of
Washington College at Lexington, Virginia, where he died October
12th, 1870.