The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1884-06-11
THE DEATH OF LINCOLN.
How the News Was Received by the Soldiers
of the Army of the Potomac.

of the Army of the Potomac.
Gen. J. e. Chamberlain in Boston Congregationalst.
The surrender was over. Lees army had
ceased to be. That solid and glittering phalanX
which had engaged all our energies through four
years of mortal struggle had vanished as into
air. The arms that had poured such storms of
death upon us had been laid at our feet. The
flags that marked the path OF that stubborn
valor which gave to a false cause a glory not its
own had been laid forever down. The men
whose word of honor given never to strike again
at the old flag had changed them from enc
mics to fellow-countrymen, had scattered on
their homeward way, near or Jar, and left the
field desolate, and us also. The very object of
our existence was gone.
So it was no longer with senses and mind
alert, but in a pensive or l~istless mood, that we
set out through rain and mud to retrace our
fields and marches, to return to the %constitu-
tional authorities Our insignia of war, and to
resume the peaceful works of citizens A days
march took us to Farmville, Va 1t was Sunday,
at about noon, that we entered a beautiful grove
in the suburbs for a camp. The sun had now
come out, and a soft air and brilliant light lay
on the scene. 1t was a Sabbath peace. The old
First division, swart and worn and torn as its
battle-iags, betook itself to rest.
Headquarters had been taken in the yard of
an old mansion of the better class. Here, to-
ward evening, a fine German band came over
from one of the brigades, kindly Offering to play
us some Of their choice music. They were in the
midst Of a bright and joyous strain, when there
came g~alloping up the old familiar fgure-the
mud-splashed, keen-eyed cavalryman message
bearer. 1t was no uncommon thing to receive
a military telegram, but something in the look
of the messenger made me step apart from the
company as l took this. read, as l remember,
thus:
WASHINGTON, April Is, 1865.
The President died this morning. Wilkes Booth the
assassin. Secretary Seward dangerously wounded.
The rest of the Cabinet, Gen. Grant, and other high
officers Of the government included in the plot of de-
struction.
W ~ - l W
for every reason, must be held in hand. '"Tell
the brigade commanders to put a double guard
on their camps Immediately, and not allow a
man to leave This was the first word spoken.
At a sign TO the band they gently Withdrew. The
army could be trusted well to bear any blow but
this. Their love for the President was something
marvellous. After each great success or great
reverse he had been accustomed to come out to
see them. That honest, homely face, showing
how heavily bore the terrible burden that had
come upon him-of settling the ''irrepressible
conflict which for a century had to be managed
by eompromises-that look of an infinite sadness
in the eyes that rested on these men as the only
instruments with which to fulfill his task, but
vet shrunk from the sacrifice, had taken strange
hold of the soldiers hearts. Now the
cowardly, brutal blow, when his words
Of gentleness were still warm as the
breath of the returning Spring, must stir
them to their deepest. 1t would take but little
to rouse them to a frenzy of blind revenge. And
right before them lay a city-an inviting and
easy prey to vengeance. Large quantities of
goods had been stored there, it was said, many
citizens had gathered there for safety against the
marauders of a demoralized country; a young
ladies' seminary, we were told, served especially
as a sort of sanctuary in those troubled times.
How could we be sure that change OF century
had made men different from what they were
when lilly at Magdeburg, Cromwell at Wexford,
or Wellington at San Sebastian, had been pow
erless to restrain dire passions excited by far
less cause! How could we be sure that lessons
oVl thn11Uh4c IF hnuaa and thu dicotpIfyoa 0n1
habit Of the field. would be sufficient to hold
within bounds of patience men who saw that
most innocent and best beloved the stricken vic
tim of internal outrage! l knew my men-long-
suffering and self controlled; but what if now
this blachest crime should fire their hearts to in
slant and exterminating war!
But heavier responsibility, perhaps, awaited
us. Strange forebodings pressed upon the mind.
1t seemed as if the darkest things were yet to
come; as if, now that men of honor had given
up the fight, it had fallen to baser hands; as if
victory, magnanimity, and charity were all to
avail nothing before the sullen treacheries that
lurked in the capital.
As | was pacing the ground, wrapped in anx-
ious thoughts, the lady of the house-there were
never any men at home-came out to ask what
had happened that disturbed us so deeply.
at is some bad news for the South, | said.
lis it Lee or Davis" she asked, a look of pain
pinching her features.
tit is Lincoln"
The face frightened instantly, with an expires
S1On OIL DledSufC SIG COulQ uOG COnCtdl.
you have lost your best friend, madam" was
the only thing to say.
All being now secure in camp, and the news
prudently broken to the men, instinct and habit
| turned to the superior officers. Even the COM
partnership of these experienced men would be
some relief, and perhaps there might be counsel
to be taken now, as in so many a dark and bod
ing hour before. My thought was anticipated.
That sight so often dear to my eyes-Charles
Griffin riding up-was never more welcome than
now. He was our corps commander. We
brought together a few tried and trusted spirits
to discuss the situation. We did not pretend to
be men of influence. but we knew we were like
ly, If anything happened, to be men of action.
So we had a right to forecast events. All we
knew yet of the situation at Washington was
what the brief telegram had told. But that
looked dark enough. The upshot of our confer
ence was expressed in words that | can even now
remember; 'They mean to destroy the govern
| ment by assassination, They will get possession
of the capital before anybody can stop them.
There is nothing for it but to march the army to
Washington and make Grant military dictator
until we can restore constitutional government.
We thought all was won, but all may be lost if
the army does not move promptly to the res
cue
We may mile at these things now, as the hab-
| it is, after the danger is passed. But in the sit
| uation of things then there was little to be
laughed at. The spirit of that midnight confer
ence showed what the real reliance was in case
the need had come.
But no worse news came from the capital.
The heart-broken people held their balance and
their command So the march was resumed
calmly and orderly; we were ready for anything.
On the morning of the third day the order
came to make no movement and do no work, for
it was the day of Lincolnls burial. 1t was fit
ting, surely, that we should hold service too. So
we got the senior chaplain of our division to pre-
pare an address. Knowing his Irish warmth of
eloquence, l cautioned him against stirring up
our feelings to revenge. AT the appointed
hour the troops were formed in hollow
square. The old flags were brought to the front
-battle-dimmed and torn, but eloquent of things
that could never be told. On the open side was
planted the Maltese cross of red Around it gath
cred the generals and staff-Griffin, too, never
forgetting his old division. and always of r%everent-
ial and religious mind. The troops stacked arms
and stood calmly behind them. l placed myself
close beside the chaplain to keep a restraint upon
him He assllred ma he would be iudicinus