The Wheeling daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1864-1878, 1876-02-15
ABRAHAM LINCOLN's DEATH.
Walt whitman's Account OF the
Scene ut Ford's Theatre.

Scene ut Ford's Theatre.
Yesterday was the anniversary OF
President Lincoln's birth. II he had
lived till then he would have been sixty
six wears old. The following vivid des-
----intiQn of the scenes at Ford's Theatre
con- from aboub,s- assassination, from a
pving the body of thy human, has
ne. sr ueIS. bainr filled chiefly by IL
The day, April IA, 1865, seems 10 n.sse
been pleasant one throughout the
whole land-the moral atmosphere pleas
ant, too-the long storm, so dark, so
fratricidal, full of blood and doubt and
gloom, over and. ended at last by the
sunrise Of such an absolute national vic.
tory, and utter breaking down of seces-
sionism-we almost doubted our own
senses Lee had cspitulated beneath the
apple tree of Appomattox. The other
armies, the fsnges of the revolt, swiftly
followed.
And could it really be, thenG Out of
all the affairs of this world of woe and
passion, of failure and disorder and dis
may, was there really come the confirmed,
unerrng sign of plan, like a shaft Of
pure light-of rightful rule-of God?
But | must not dwell on accessories
The deed hastens. The popular alter
noon paper the Evening Star, had scat
tered all over its third page, divided
among the advertisements in sensa-
tional manner in a hundred different
places: "The President and his lady will
be at the theatre this evening"" Lin
coin was fond of the theatre. l have
myself seen him there several times. l
remember thinking how funny it was
that he, the leading actor in the greatest
and stormiest drama known to real lis
tory's stage, through centuries, should sit
there and be SO completely interested and
absorbed in those human jackstraws.
moving about with their silly little ges-
lures, foreign spirit, and istulent text J.
So the day, as l say, was propitlous.
Early heritage and early flowers were
out. II remember where was stopping
at the time. The season being advanced,
there were many lilacs in full bloom. BY
one of those caprices that enter and give
,ince to events without being at all
part OF them, l find myself always re-
minded OF the q eat tragedy OF that day
by the sight and odor of these blossoms.
1t never tails.)
On this occasion the theatre was crowd
ed, many ladies in rich and gay costumes,
officers in their uniforms, many we'll
known citizens, young folks, the usual
cluster of gashghts, the usual magnetism
of so many people, cheerful, with per-
fumes, music of violins and futes-(and
ever all and saturating all, that vast
vague wonder, Victory the Nations
Victory, the triumph of the Union, fill
inf the air, the thought, the sense with
exhilaration more than all perfumcs.)
The President came betimes, and, with
his wife, witnessed the play, from the
large stage boxes of the second tier, two
thrown into one, and profusely draped
with the national flag. The acts and
scenes of the piece-one of those singu-
larly witless compositions, which have at
least the merit of giving entire relief to
an audience engaged i'll mental action or
business exctements and cares during
the day, as it makes not the slightest call
on either the moral, emotional, esthetlc,
or spiritual nature-a piece ("Our Amer
lean Cousin") in which, among other
characters, SO called, Yankee, certainly
such a one rs was never seen, or the
least like it ever seen IN North
America is introduced i'll England,
with a varied fol-de-rol of talk, plot,
scenery, and such phantasmagorla as goes
to make up modern popular drama
hsd progressed through perhaps couple
of its acts. when in the midst OF this COM
edv, or tragedy, or non-such, or whatever
il is to be called, and to offset 1t or finish
it out, as if in natures and the great
muses. mockery of these poor mines,
comes interpolsted that scene, not really
or exactly TO be described at all (tor on
the many hundreds who were there 1t
seems to this hour 10 have left little but
passing blur, a dream, tch)-and
yet partially to be described as l now
proceed to give it.
There is a scene in the play represent
ing \ modern psrlor, in which two IN
preccdented English ladies are informed
hv the unprecedented and Impossible
Yankee that he is not man OF fortune,
and therefore undesirable for marriage
catching purposes; after which, the COM
ments being finished, the dramatic trio
make exit, leaving the stage clear for
moment There was pause, hush as
it were. At this period came the muir
der of Abraham Lincoln. Great rs that
WAS. with all its manifold train circllng
round it. and stretching into the future
for MANY a century. in the politics, his
tory. art. &c, of the New World, IN
point of fact the main thing, the actual
murder, transpired with the quiet SIM
| plicity of any commonest occurrence
the bursting of bud or pod in the
growth of vegetation, for instance.
Through the general hum following
the stage pause, with the change OF posi-
tions, &c, came the mulled sound of "A
pistol shot, which not one hundredth part
of the audience heard at the time-snd
vet moments hHsh-somehow, surely a
| VAGUE, startled thrill-snd then, through
the ornamented, drsperied, starred and
striped spsce-wsy of the Presidents box,
a sudden figure. man raises himself with
hands and feet, stands q moment on the
railing. leaps below to the stage IA dis
lance of perhaps fourteen or fliteen feet,
falls out of position, catching his boot heeJ
in the copous drspery (the American
flag falls on one knee quickly RECEIVERS
himself rises as if nothing had happened
Tho really .prsins his anklc, but un
!,lt then)-and so the figure, Booth the
murderer, dressed in plain black broad,
cloth, bare headed, with a full head OF
glossy, raven hair, and his eyes, IKE
some mad ANIMALS, flashing with light
and resolution, yet with certain strange
calmness, holds aloft in one hand large
knife-wslks along not much back from
the footlights-turns fully towards the
audience his face of ststuesque beauty, Int
by those bssihsk eyes, flashing with des
peratlon, perhaps insanity-launches out
in firm and steady voice the words,