![]() ![]() He saw military maps that mirrored his own, pinned to the walls of the rebel cabinet room where the stars and stripes now stood. Surrounded by the ghosts of the Confederacy, Lincoln toured the mansion, its tall drawing rooms with crimson wallpaper and cramped living quarters upstairs. Now Lincoln was looking forward: vindicated by the people’s vote and determined to stop the cycle of violence, changing his focus from winning the war to winning the peace. Seven months earlier, Lincoln believed that he would lose reelection. His own family had been divided, with Mary’s brothers fighting for the Confederacy, while his marriage strained to the breaking point. The past four years had been defined by political crisis and personal despair: the death of his beloved 11-year-old son Willie, the death of friends in battle, and the near death of the Union under his watch. General Lee’s army had not yet surrendered-that would come five days later at Appomattox Court House. It was a moment of supreme triumph but there was no hint of triumphalism. Lincoln ran a hand through his unruly black hair, and asked for a glass of water. His face seemed “care-plowed, tempest-tossed,” but close observers always noticed his “kind, shining” eyes. As he leaned back, letting his long legs stretch, he looked out the same window that Davis had gazed through so many times before. They marched him up to the steps of the gray stucco executive mansion, abandoned by Confederate president Jefferson Davis and his family the day before, where Union general Godfrey Weitzel, a 29-year-old German immigrant, had set up headquarters.Įntering the tall yellow hallway, flanked by plaster Greek statues representing comedy and tragedy, Lincoln was led to the small ceremonial office on the first floor and sank down into the leather chair behind Jefferson Davis’ desk. It would require learning the right lessons, so we were not condemned to repeat it.Īs they turned a corner in the city center, soldiers from the New York Fiftieth regiment were shocked to bump into their commander in chief, walking with his “long, careless stride,” one soldier recalled, “looking about with an interested air” as he casually asked them for directions. The crowd shouted, “Tear it down!” but the president raised his hand and quieted them, saying, “No, leave it as a monument.” Healing could not occur by simply erasing history. “It was a death shock to chivalry, and a mortal wound to caste.”Īs they passed the notorious Libby Prison, where more than 1,000 Union officers had been held in horrific conditions, Lincoln pointed out the brick and iron structure to his son. ![]() “It was a bow which upset the forms, laws, customs and ceremonies of centuries,” observed Charles Coffin of the Boston Journal. As Lincoln stopped to wipe his brow, an older Black man approached the president and took off his hat, placing it over his heart, saying, “May the Good Lord Bless You, President Lincoln.” The president responded by removing his own hat and bowed in return. It was an uphill climb and beads of sweat collected on their dust-covered faces. Constitution fewer than eighty years before. Lincoln and Tad were caught in the eye of a human hurricane, winding up the road toward the marble capitol building on the top of the hill, passing the place where Virginia ratified the U.S. ![]() Surrounded by rowdy crowds, Lincoln’s bodyguard thought he spied a sharpshooter in a second-floor window point a rifle at the president and trace his path without firing a shot. It seemed that the meek would finally inherit the earth, or at least Richmond.ĭeath hovered over his shoulder. Those who lived in the finest houses either stood motionless upon their steps or merely peeped through the window blinds.” “There were many whites in the crowd, but they were lost in the great concourse of American citizens of African descent. “Old men thanked God in a very boisterous manner, and old women shouted upon the pavement as high as they had ever done at a religious revival,” he wrote. Thomas Morris Chester, a pioneering Black war correspondent for The Philadelphia Press, was among the first journalists to see Lincoln enter the rebel capital and he scribbled down the celebration. You must kneel to God only and thank Him for the liberty you will afterward enjoy.” “Don’t kneel to me,” Lincoln gently rebuked them. They grabbed at his clothes and fell at his feet. A crowd of liberated slaves gathered around Lincoln. It was the sound of rumor turning to revelation. A low murmur rose among the ruins at the sight of the 6-foot-4-inch man in black, slightly stooped, topped by his signature stovepipe hat.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |