From the time of the election of Mr. Lincoln to the Presidency, many
threats, public and private, were made of his assassination. An attempt
to murder him would undoubtedly have been made, in February, 1861, on
his passage through Baltimore, had not the plot been discovered, and the
time of his passage been anticipated. From the day of his inauguration,
he began to receive letters threatening assassination. He said: "The
first one or two made me uncomfortable, but," said he, smiling, "there
is nothing like getting _used_ to things." He was constitutionally
fearless, and came to consider these letters as idle threats, meant only
to annoy him, and it was very difficult for his friends to induce him to
resort to any precautions.
It was announced through the press that on the evening of the 14th of
April, Mr. Lincoln and General Grant would attend Ford's Theater. The
General did not attend, but Mr. Lincoln, being unwilling to disappoint
the public expectation, accompanied by Mrs. Lincoln, Miss Harris, and
Major Rathbone, was induced to go. The writer met him on the portico of
the White House just as he was about to enter his carriage, exchanged
greetings with him, and will never forget the radiant, happy expression
of his countenance, and the kind, genial tones of his voice, as we
parted _for the night_ as we then thought--_forever_ in this world, as
it resulted.
The President was received, as he always was, by acclamations. When he
reached the door of his box, he turned, and smiled, and bowed in
acknowledgment of the hearty greeting which welcomed him, and then
followed Mrs. Lincoln into the box. This was at the right hand of the
stage. In the corner nearest the stage sat Miss Harris, next her Mrs.
Lincoln. Mr. Lincoln sat nearest the entrance, Major Rathbone being
seated on a sofa, in the back part of the box. The theater, and
especially the box occupied by the President's party, was most
beautifully draped with the national colors. While the play was in
progress, John Wilkes Booth visited the theater behind the scenes, left
a horse ready saddled in the alley behind the building, leaving a door
opening to this alley ready for his escape.
In the midst of the play, at the hour of 10.30, a pistol shot, sharp and
clear, is heard! a man with a bloody dagger in his hand leaps from the
President's box to the stage exclaiming, "_Sic semper tyrannis_," "the
South is avenged." As the assassin struck the stage, the spur on his
boot having caught in the folds of the flag, he fell to his knee.
Instantly rising, he brandished his dagger, darted across the stage, out
of the door he had left open, mounted his horse and galloped away. The
audience, startled and stupefied with horror, were for a few seconds
spell-bound. Some one cries out in the crowd, "_John Wilkes Booth!_"
This man, an actor, familiar with the locality, after arranging for his
escape, had passed round to the front of the theater, entered, passed in
to the President's box, entered at the open and unguarded door, and
stealing up behind the President, who was intent upon the play, placed
his pistol near the back of the head of Mr. Lincoln, and fired. The ball
penetrated the brain, and the President fell upon his face mortally
wounded, unconscious and speechless from the first. Major Rathbone had
attempted to seize Booth as he rushed past toward the stage, and
received from the assassin a severe cut in the arm.
No words can describe the anguish and horror of Mrs. Lincoln. The scene
was heart-rending; she prayed for death to relieve her suffering. The
insensible form of the President was removed across the street to the
house of a Mr. Peterson. Robert Lincoln soon reached the scene, and the
members of the cabinet and personal friends crowded around the place of
the fearful tragedy. And there the strong constitution of Mr. Lincoln
struggled with death, until twenty-two minutes past seven the next
morning, when his heart ceased to beat. The scene during that long
fearful night of woe, at the house of Peterson, beggars description.
News of the appalling deed spread through the city, and it was found
necessary to restrain the anxious, weeping people by a double guard
around the house. The surgeons from the first examination of the wound,
pronounced it mortal; and the shock and the agony of that terrible night
to Mrs. Lincoln was enough to distract the reason, and break the heart
of the most self-controlled. Robert Lincoln sought, by manly
self-mastery to control his own grief and soothe his mother, and aid her
to sustain her overwhelming sorrow.
When at last, the noble heart ceased to beat, the Rev. Dr. Gurley, in
the presence of the family, the household, and those friends of the
President who were present, knelt down, and touchingly prayed the
Almighty Father, to aid and strengthen the family and friends to bear
their terrible sorrow.
I will not attempt with feeble pen to sketch the scenes of that terrible
night; I leave that for the pencil of the artist!
As has been said, the name of the assassin was John Wilkes Booth! He was
shot by Boston Corbett, a soldier on the 21st of April.