Day 10

Harper's Weekly
VOL. IX. - No. 435.]
NEW YORK, SATURDAY, APRIL 29, 1865.
SINGLE COPIES TEN CENTS. [$4,00 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1865, by Harper & Brothers, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York.
THE MURDER OF THE PRESIDENT.
THE Fourteenth of April is a dark day in our country's calendar. On that day four years ago the national flag was for the first time lowered at the bidding of traitors. Upon that day, after a desperate conflict with treason for four long, weary years—a conflict in which the nation had so far triumphed that she breathed again in the joyous prospect of coming peace —her chosen leader was stricken down by the foul hand of the cowardly assassin. Exultation that had known no bounds was exchanged for boundless grief. The record upon which had been inscribed all sorts of violence possible to the most malignant treason that ever sought to poison a nation's heart had been almost written full. But not quite full. Murder had run out its category of possible degrees against helpless loyalists in the South, against women and children whose houses had been burned down over their heads, and against our unfortunate prisoners, who had been tortured and literally starved to death. But there still remained one victim for its last rude stroke—one victim for whom, it was whispered in rebel journals South and North, there was still reserved the dagger of a BRUTUS. Beaten on every field of recognized warfare, treason outdid its very self, and killed our President.
The man who lent himself to traitors for this vile purpose was JOHN WILKES BOOTH, who sold himself, it may be, partly for the pieces of silver, but chiefly for the infamous notoriety attaching to such an act. There was an ancient villain who deliberately purposed to perpetuate the memory of his name among men by an act of awful sacrilege—a sacrilege so striking as never to be forgotten—and he burned the temple of the Ephesian Diana. EROSTRATUS gained his end, and has been remembered accordingly. A memory far more detestable is in store for JOHN WILKES BOOTH, who dared, by the commission of an infinitely greater sacrilege, to bring a whole people to tears.
He was the third son born in America of the
eminent English tragedian JUNIUS BRUTUS BOOTH. There were three brothers, JUNIUS BRUTUS, Jun., EDWIN, and JOHN WILKES, all of whom inherited a predilection for the stage. EDWIN, however, is the only one of these who has attained a very eminent position as an actor, and he is probably surpassed by no living man. In justice to him it is proper here to state that he is true and loyal, and exacts our sincerest sympathy. The elder BOOTH, father of these three actors, died thirteen years ago. He passed the quieter portion of his life upon his farm, in Harford County, some thirty miles from Baltimore. JOHN WILKES BOOTH, the murderer, was born in 1839, and is now only twenty-six years of age. He went upon the stage at the early age
of seventeen, simply as JOHN WILKES. As stock actor he gained a fair reputation, and afterward assuming his full name, he began a more ambitious career. But, partly on account of his dissolute habits, he never achieved a marked success. He performed chiefly in the South and West. He has appeared but few times before a New York audience. In person he bears considerable resemblance to his father. His eyes are dark and large ; his hair of the same color, inclined to curl ; his features finely molded ; his form tall, and his address pleasing. He abandoned his profession recently on account of a bronchial affection. It is said that he has frequently threatened to kill President LINCOLN. His companions have been violent Secessionists, and
there are doubtless many others involved to a greater or less degree in his crime. The attempt to assassinate Secretary SEWARD was made probably by an accomplice. It is supposed that Secretary STANTON and ANDREW JOHNSON were to have been added to the list of victims. The latter, at least, received on Friday a card from BOOTH, but was not at home.
Those who were acquainted with BOOTH'S movements on the fatal Friday say that his manner was restless. He knew that the President and his party intended to be present at Ford's Theatre in the evening. He asked an acquaintance if he should attend the performance, remarking that if he did he would see some unusually fine acting. It was
the general expectation that General GRANT would form one of the President's party, and there are many who suppose that a blow was intended for him as well as the President. The latter had passed the day in the usual manner. In the morning his son, Capt. ROBERT LINCOLN, breakfasted with him.—The Captain had just returned from the capitulation of ROBERT E. LEE, and the President listened with great interest to his narration of the detailed circumstances. After breakfast he conversed for an hour with Speaker COLFAX about his future policy as to the rebellion which he was about to submit to his Cabinet. At 11 o'clock the Cabinet met. Both the President and General GRANT were present. Having spent the afternoon with Governor OGLESBY, Senator YATES, and other leading citizens of his State, he went to the theatre in the evening with Mrs. LINCOLN, in order to unite in the general expression of popular joy for our late victories. The party consisted of Mrs. Senator HARRIS and daughter, and Major HENRY RATHBONE, Of Albany. They arrived at ten minutes before nine o'clock, and occupied a private box over-looking the stage. The play for the evening was The American Cousin.
BOOTH came upon his errand at about 10 o'clock. He left his horse in charge at the rear of the theatre, and made his way to the President's box. This box is a double one, in the second tier at the left of the stage. When occupied by the Presidential party the separating partition is removed, and the two boxes are thus thrown into one. We give an accurate plan of the box on page 259.—According to Major RATHBONE'S statement, the assassin must have made his preparations in the most deliberate manner beforehand. Of this fact there are at least four proofs, as we shall see: Stealthily approaching the dark passageway leading to the box, BOOTH, after having effected an entrance, closed the hall door, and then, taking a piece of board which he had prepared for the occasion, placed one end of it in an indentation excavated in the wall, about four feet from the floor, and the
other against the moulding of the door-panel a few inches higher. He thus made it impossible for any one to enter from without; and securing himself against intrusion in that direction, he proceeded to the doors of the box. There were two of those. Here also the villain had carefully provided before hand the means by which he might, unnoticed himself, observe the position of the parties inside. With a gimlet, or small bit, he had bored a hole in the door-panel, which he afterward reamed out with his knife, so as to leave it a little larger than a buck-shot on the inside, while on the other side it was sufficiently large to give his eye a wide range. To secure against the doors being locked (they both had spring-locks), he had loosened the screws with

Day 9 The End

Surrender at AppomatoxGen. Ulysses S. Grant and the mighty Union Army of the Potomac captured the Confederate capital of Richmond, Va., on April 3, 1865, and had Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee's ragged Army of Northern Virginia on the run. Grant quickly sent his hardened veterans slogging to the west on muddy roads after Lee's Rebel army, realizing that if he kept up the pressure he had a very good chance of defeating Lee and ending the war. With three times as many men as Lee could muster, Grant had been able to apply pressure to all sides of Lee's army as it struggled to escape the Union onslaught. But Grant was well aware that the Rebel soldiers and their sly leader were still a formidable force with a demonstrated capability of turning dire circumstances into victory. The stressful days and anxious, sleepless night were telling Grant's normally solid disposition. An aide reported that he suffered from "one of his sick headaches, which are rare but cause him fearful pain, such as almost overcomes his iron stoicism." When Grant stopped for the night on April 8, 1865, he was almost without strength from the blinding pain, and sought relief by applying mustard plasters to his wrists and neck and soaking his feet in hot water. Though an aide reminded him that his migraines were often followed by good news, Grant did not feel better and went to bed. At midnight, a message from Lee denying the necessity of surrender was delivered to Grant, and he was seen pacing in the yard before dawn with both hands pressed to his temples. Shortly after 11:00 A.M. on April 9, 1865, a courier rode up and delivered a message from Lee requesting a meeting to discuss the surrender of his army. "When the officer arrived," said Grant, "I was still suffering with the sick headache; but the moment I saw the note I was cured." While his staff cheered, Grant dispatched a message to Lee to meet him at Appomattox Court House. "Then there is nothing left for me but to go and see General Grant, and I had rather die a thousands deaths," said Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee on the morning of April 9, 1865. That morning Lee had dressed in his finest uniform. "I have probably to be General Grant's prisoner and thought I must make my best appearance," he calmly explained to a fellow officer, but his heart was breaking. The end was at hand -- the end of the war, the end of the bloodshed and deprivation, but also the end of the country for which he and his men had so nobly fought. As he looked out over the battlelines, he briefly contemplated shirking the difficult task: "How easily I could be rid of this, and be at rest! I have only to ride along the line and all will be over! . . . But it is our duty to live. What will become of the women and children of the South if we are not here to protect them?" Lee instructed his corps commanders to send out flags of truce to suspend the hostilies and wrote a note to Union Gen. Ulysses S. Grant requesting an interview to arrange the surrender of the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia. Word soon came from Grant that he was pushing to the front to meet with Lee. Gen. James Longstreet came up as Lee was preparing to leave for Appomattox Court House. Still game, Longstreet said to Lee, "General, unless he offers us honorable terms, come back and let us fight it out." As he rode toward the town, Lee sent his aide, Col. Charles Marshall, ahead to locate a suitable house for the meeting. Marshall asked the first citizen he came upon in Appomattox Court House, Wilmer McLean, for assistance. McLean took Marshall to his own home, which proved to be the most prosperous looking in the town. Lee arrived at 1:00 P.M., took a seat near a small table in a corner of the parlor, and sat quietly waiting for Grant to arrive. After half an hour, Lee heard the sound of boots mounting the front steps. Lee rose as Grant entered, and the two men met in the middle of the room and greeted each other with a handshake. "In about a half an hour we heard horses, and the first thing I knew General Grant walked into the room . . . He looked as though he had a pretty hard time . . . dusty and a little soiled," remembered Col. Charles Marshall, the aide who accompanied Gen. Robert E. Lee into the McLean house at Appomattox Court House on April 9, 1865. The most momentous event in the history of the nation -- the surrender of Lee's Confederate Army of Northern Virginia to Gen. Ulysses S. Grant's Army of the Potomac -- was about to take place. The two generals talked of their first meeting in the Mexican War, made introductions to the officers in the room, and engaged in a wandering conversation that Lee at last brought back to the surrender. "What General Lee's feelings were I do not know, as he was a man of much dignity, with an impassable face, it was impossible to say whether he felt inwardly glad that the end had finally come, or felt sad over the result," wrote Grant. "But my own feelings, which had been quite jubilant on the receipt of his letters, were sad and depressed . . . Our conversation grew so pleasant that I almost forgot the object of our meeting . . . General Lee called my attention to the object." "I suppose, General Grant," said Lee, "that the object of our meeting is fully understood. I asked to see you to ascertain upon what terms you would receive the surrender of my army." "The terms I propose," replied Grant, "are those stated substantially in my letter of yesterday -- that is, the officers and men surrendered to be paroled and disqualified from taking up arms again until properly exchanged, and all arms, ammunition, and supplies to be delivered up as captured property." The generous terms were accepted, and Grant started writing them out. When he was writing the part about delivering up all arms, he looked up at Lee's dress sword, then added a sentence excluding officers' side arms from those to be turned over. Appomattox Ct. H., Va. Apl 9, 1865 General R.E. Lee Commanding C.S.A. General: In accordance with the substance of my letter to you of the 8th instant, I propose to receive the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia on the following terms, to wit: Rolls of all the officers and men to be made in duplicate, one copy to be given to an officer designated by me, the other to be retained by such officer or officers as you may designate. The officers to give their individual paroles not to take up arms against the Government of the United States until properly exchanged, and each company or regimental commander to sign a like parole for the men of their commands. The arms, artillery, and public property to be parked, and stacked, and turned over to the officers appointed by me to receive them. This will not embrace the side arms of the officers, nor their private horses or baggege. This done, each officer and man will be allowed to return to his home, not to be disturbed by the United States authorities so long as they observe their paroles, and the laws in force where they may reside. Very respectfully, U.S. Grant, Lt-G Lee looked up from the surrender terms and said to Grant, "This will have a very happy effect on my army." He could only be pleased, especially with the last sentence, which put him and his men out of jeopardy of charges of treason. He hesitated before saying, "There is one thing I would like to mention. The cavalrymen and artillery men in our army own their own horses . . . I would like to understand whether these men will be permitted to retain their horses." "Well, the subject is quite new to me," responded Grant. "I take it that most of the men in the ranks are small farmers, and as the country has been so much raided by the two armies, it is doubtful whether they will be able to put in a crop to carry themselves and their families through the next winter without the aid of the horses they are now riding. I will instruct the officers I shall appoint to receive the paroles to let all men who claim to own a horse or mule to take their animals home with them to work their little farms." "General, say the word and we'll go in and fight 'em yet," shouted some of the men crowding around Gen. Robert E. Lee on April 9, 1865, when he rode back into the lines held by the Army of Northern Virginia. Lee had just surrendered to Union Gen. Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox Court House. His appearance had caused the usual cheer to erupt, but it queckly fell silent when the men saw the countenance of their beloved general. The normally solid composure had cracked and his great distress was evident. With tears running down his cheeks, Lee said, "Men, we have fought the war together, and I have done the best I could for you. You will all be paroled and go to your homes until exhanged. My heart is too full to say more." As Traveller moved through the throng, the men voiced their love and devotion for the gray man on the gray horse. They reached ut and touched Lee's uniform, patted Traveller, and sobbed their farewell to the only commander their army had known. As the news spread, more and more men flocked to Lee. He passed on to an apple orchard, where he stayed briefly to arrange details of the surrender, then rode on to his headquarters. "There was," wrote one soldier, "a general rush from each side of the road to greet him as he passed, and two solid walls of men were formed along the whole distance. Their officers followed, and behind the lines of men were groups of them, mounted and dismounted, awaiting his coming . . . As soon as he entered this avenue of old soldiers, the men who had stood to their duty in so many battles, wild, heartfelt cheers arose which so touched General Lee that tears filled his eyes and trickled down his cheeks as he rode his splendid charger, hat in hand, bowing his acknowledgements." The exhibition of feeling on his part found quick response from the men, whose cheers changed to choking sobs as . . . they waved their hats as he passed . . . One man extended his arms, and with an emphatic gesture said, "I love you just as well as ever, General Lee!"