CHAPTER III.

ASSASSINATION OF THE PRESIDENT AND ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF SECRETARY SEWARD.

On the morning of the 14th of April, 1865, the President's messenger went to Ford's Theatre in Washington City and engaged a private box for the President and General Grant, with their wives, to witness the play of "Our American Cousin," which was to be rendered there that night. The heavy burden of responsibility, the weight of cares and anxieties which had for four long years rested on the head of President Lincoln in his official position of President of the United States and Commander-in-Chief of its army and navy, employed during all that time in suppressing a gigantic rebellion of the slave-holding States of the South against the constitutional and lawful authority of the government, and which had followed him into his second term of office, upon which he had just entered, had been partially lifted by the signal success of the Union arms at Appomattox, and the surrender of Lee's army. General Grant, who had just accepted the unconditional surrender of that army, and finished the work of dismissing to their homes the officers and men who had composed it (and who for four long years had fought with such magnificent bravery, and manifested such earnestness and determinedness of purpose in a cause which, though bad, was no doubt esteemed by them to be just), under no other condition than that they should return to their homes and the pursuits of peaceful life, and desist from all further acts of hostility against the government they had sought, but failed, to overthrow, had gone to Washington to talk over the situation with the President and Secretary of War, and to decide on future operations for the speedy establishment of peace. With the surrender of Lee's army, and the successful march of Sherman from Atlanta to the sea, and his almost unresisted progress up the coast toward the Nation's Capital, it was obvious that the rebellion had collapsed, and that the return of peace was just at hand. All loyal hearts throughout the land throbbed with joy, and praise and thanksgiving ascended to Him who had stamped the righteousness of the union cause with the signet of His approbation, in thus giving us the victory after a long and bloody contest. The years of sacrifice, toil, suffering and danger were almost forgotten in the gladness of that hour; and the war-scarred veterans in the field, and their friends at home, were rejoicing at the prospect of a speedy re-union, under skies of peace. It was an hour big with the memories of the past and hopes of the future. When we think of what President Lincoln had endured through all these years of the war; of his unfaltering purpose to discharge all the duties of his official oath, by protecting, defending and preserving the constitution of his country; of the formidable difficulties that had to be met and overcome--difficulties thrown across his pathway often by friends, always by foes; when we remember his largeness of soul, his unbounded love of, and sympathy with, mankind; his all controlling love of his country and her institutions of freedom; his patient toleration of opposing views of martial and of political policy; his self-poise, and almost infallible appreciation of the situation and its demands, in whatever circumstances he might be placed; his kindness of nature and goodness of heart, we can well conceive what must have been his fullness of joy on this the last day of his sojourn on earth. God, in his providence, led him to the opening of a vista through which his patriotic and philanthropic soul could swell with delightful anticipations of the greatness, the glory, and the happiness that should accrue to mankind through his faithfulness to the obligations of his official oath, by which he had vindicated his authority, and brought to a right solution the great moral question underlying the contest, and thus had made our beloved land a land of freedom in fact, as well as in name. He saw a new and glorious era about to dawn on his country. Like Moses, however, he was only permitted, in vision, to look over into the promised land--the great future of his beloved country.

It is consoling to thus know that to the great Lincoln his last day on earth was the happiest, and at the same time, the meekest day of his life. His biographers, Nicolay and Hay, who were able to write from personal association with, and observation of, this great man, inform us that on this day his soul was filled with the kindliest feelings toward his enemies, and in his last conference with his cabinet his policy of dealing with them was shadowed forth as free from feelings of revenge or desire for the punishment of any. He desired that no man should lose his life for the part he had taken in the rebellion. He held "malice toward none," and was filled with "charity for all." His passage from time to eternity, though brought about by the bullet of an assassin, was a passage through a triumphal arch, whose further portal was the gate of heaven.

The presence of General Grant was known to the city, and it was noised abroad that both he and President Lincoln would honor the theatre with their presence on that evening. The public knowledge of this fact was calculated to bring out a brilliant and large assemblage of people. The loyal citizens would be there to give to the President and the successful and popular commander of his armies in the field a heartfelt and royal ovation in this the hour of their triumph. All felt happy and secure. That they were coming together to witness, on that night, the awful tragedy of the assassination of the nation's head, President Lincoln, was not dreamed of by any except those who had made every preparation in advance for accomplishing the murderous plot, and who were stealthily slipping about through the assembling crowds, like fiends, to assure themselves that every arrangement for the successful accomplishment of their hellish purpose was complete. During the day General Grant received a telegram that called him to Philadelphia on business, and owing to this apparently providential circumstance he was prevented from accompanying the President to the theatre on that eventful night, and also, in all probability, from being, with the President, a victim of the plot, in which there is good reason to conclude, from all the evidence, his life was included, and that for him an assassin had been provided.

In lieu of General and Mrs. Grant, President Lincoln had taken Major Rathbone and Miss Harris, the step-son and daughter of Senator Harris, of New York, into the Presidential party. On reaching the theatre at a somewhat late hour, and after the play had commenced, as soon as the presence of the President became known, the actors stopped playing, the band struck up "Hail to the Chief," and the audience rose and received him with vociferous cheering.

The party proceeded along the rear of the dress circle, and entered the box that had been prepared for them, the President taking the rocking chair that had been placed there for him on the left of the box, and nearest to the audience, about four feet from the door of entrance to the box. Major Rathbone and the ladies found seats on the President's right. During this time the conspirators were on the alert, scanning the situation, passing about so as to keep up a communication with each other, in preparation for their work. Booth had arranged with Payne to assassinate Secretary Seward at the same time that he would assassinate the President; and no doubt had planned for Payne, after accomplishing his task, to join him and Herold in their flight, crossing the Eastern Branch at the Navy Yard bridge, and then to pass down through Maryland and cross the Potomac, at a selected point, into Virginia, where they might consider themselves as being safe amongst their friends. Secretary Seward was known to have received severe injuries from the upsetting of his carriage, and to be lying in a critical condition under the care of Dr. Verdi. Booth had planned to take advantage of this circumstance for gaining admittance for Payne into the sick chamber, where, by springing with the ferocity of a tiger upon the sick man, he might make quick work in dispatching him with his dagger. To this end he had prepared a package rolled up in paper, and had schooled Payne in the artifice, teaching him to represent himself as having been sent by Dr. Verdi with this package of medicine, which it was necessary he should deliver in person, as he had important verbal directions as to the manner of its use, which required him to see the Secretary.

About ten o'clock Booth rode up the alley back of the theatre where he had been accustomed to keep his horse, and having reached the rear entrance, called for Ned three times, each time a little louder than before. At the third call Ned Spangler answered to his summons by appearing at the door. Booth's first salutation was in the form of a question: "Ned, you will help me all you can, won't you?" To which Spangler replied, "Oh, yes!" Booth then requested him to send "Peanuts" (a boy employed about the theatre), to hold his horse. Spangler gave the boy orders to do this, and upon the boy making the objection that he might be out of place at the time he had a duty to perform, Spangler bade him go, saying that he would stand responsible for him. The boy then took the reins, and held the horse for about half an hour, until Booth returned to reward him with a curse and a kick, as he jerked the rein from him preparatory to remounting for his flight. After entering the theatre, Booth passed rapidly across the stage, glancing at the box occupied by his intended victim, and looking up his accomplices, he passed out of the front door on to the walk where he was met by two of his fellow conspirators. One of these was a low, villainous-looking fellow, whilst the other was a very neatly-dressed man. Booth held a private conference with these by the door where he and the vulgar-looking fellow had stationed themselves. The neatly-dressed man crossed the walk to the rear of the President's carriage and peeped into it. One of the witnesses, who was sitting on the platform in front of the theatre, had his attention arrested by the manner and conduct of these men, and so watched them very closely.

It was at the close of the second act that Booth and his two fellow conspirators appeared at the door. Booth said, "I think he will come down now"; and they aligned themselves to await his coming. Their communications with each other were in whispered tones. Finding that the President would remain until the close of the play, they then began to prepare to assassinate him in the theatre. The neatly-dressed man called the time three times in succession at short intervals, each time a little louder than before. Booth now entered the saloon, took a drink of whiskey, and then went at once into the theatre. He passed quickly along next to the wall behind the chairs, and having reached a point near the door that led to the passage behind the box, he stopped, took a small pack of visiting cards from his pocket, selected one and replaced the others; stood a second with it in his hand, and then showed it to the President's messenger, who was sitting just below him, and then, without waiting, passed through the door from the lobby into the passage, closing and barring it after him. Taking a hasty, but careful, look through the hole which he had had made in the door for the purpose of assuring himself of the President's position, and cocking his pistol and with his finger on the trigger, he pulled open the door, and stealthily entered the box, where he stood right behind and within three feet of the President. The play had advanced to the second scene of the third act, and whilst the audience was intensely interested Booth fired the fatal shot--the ball penetrating the skull on the back of the left side of the head, inflicting a wound in the brain (the ball passing entirely through and lodging behind the right eye), of which he died at about half-past seven o'clock on the morning of the fifteenth. He was unconscious from the moment he was struck until his spirit passed from earth. An unspeakable calm settled on that remarkable face, leaving the impress of a happy soul on the casket it had left behind.

Thus died the man who said, "Senator Douglass says he don't care whether slavery is voted up, or voted down; but God cares, and humanity cares, and I care."

As soon as Booth had fired his pistol, and was satisfied that his end was accomplished, he cried out, "Revenge for the South!" and throwing his pistol down, he took his dagger in his right hand, and placed his left hand on the balustrade preparatory to his leap of twelve feet to the stage. Just at this moment Major Rathbone sprang forward and tried to catch him. In this he failed, but received a severe cut in his arm from a back-handed thrust of Booth's dagger. Time was everything now to the assassin. He must make good his escape whilst the audience stood dazed, and before it had time to comprehend clearly what had happened. With his left hand on the railing, he boldly leaped from the box to the stage. The front of the box had been draped for the occasion with the American flag, which was stretched across its front, and reached down nearly or quite to the floor. In the descent, Booth's spur caught in the flag, tearing out a piece which he dragged nearly half way across the stage. The flag, however, was avenged for this double insult which he had put upon it; for by this entanglement his descent was deflected, causing him to strike the stage obliquely, and partially to fall, thus fracturing the fibula of his left leg, on account of which injury his flight was impeded, and his permanent escape made impossible. As he recovered himself from his partial fall and started to run across the stage with his dagger brandished aloft, he cried out in a theatrical tone, "_Sic semper tyrannis!_" and quickly passed out at a little back door opening into the alley where he had left his horse, and, though closely pursued, succeeded in mounting, and rode rapidly away.

Of course he could not afford to run any risks in regard to his escape, and for all this he had made his arrangements in advance. Spangler had faithfully redeemed his promise to render him all the aid he could by keeping the passage to the door clear at the critical moment, and also by doing all he could to retard pursuit. When a fellow-employee cried out, "That was Booth!" Ned ordered him to shut up, saying "You don't know who it was." Booth was closely pursued by a man by the name of Stewart, who followed him into the alley, making every effort he could to stop him; but Booth kept his horse in motion, so that Stewart failed to get hold of the rein, and the assassin was soon off at a rapid pace.

Stewart testified that Spangler, or a man resembling him, stood near the door, and could have prevented Booth's exit had he been so disposed. It is evident his purpose was to aid, rather than hinder, his escape. All the occupants of the stage, actors and assistants, male and female, were in a state of confusion and intense excitement except this man, who evidently had not been taken by surprise, but was prepared in mind for what had happened, and had played his part in the tragedy.

At the same hour that Booth fired the fatal shot, Payne appeared at the door of Secretary Seward's house, in the guise of a messenger from Dr. Verdi, holding in his hand the package that Booth had prepared for him, and demanded to see the Secretary, saying that he had a verbal message which was of particular importance in regard to the use, or application of, the medicine, and that he must see the Secretary himself. Dr. Verdi had left his patient but a short time previous, and had consoled the family that had for days been suffering the greatest anxiety on account of the Secretary's condition by taking a favorable view of the symptoms. The family, worn with watching and anxiety, were disposing of themselves for the night. Major A. H. Seward had retired to his room. Sergeant George F. Robinson, acting as attendant nurse, was watching by the bedside, in company with Miss Seward, the Secretary's daughter. Frederick Seward occupied the room at the head of the stairs. All the rooms occupied by the Secretary and his family were on the second floor, and were reached by a flight of stairs in the hallway.

The second waiter, William H. Bell, a colored lad of nineteen, was stationed at the hall door. Being somewhat relieved of their anxiety by the doctor's favorable view of the case, all were anticipating a night of quiet rest. The door bell rang, and was responded to by Bell, the colored waiter. Immediately upon his opening of the door, Payne stepped into the hall. He was a tall, broad-shouldered, muscular man, as agile and ferocious as a panther; a low-browed, scowling, villainous-looking specimen of humanity, the animal preponderating largely in every feature of his visage and expression of his countenance. There he stood, holding in his left hand the package, and keeping his right hand in his overcoat pocket. He demanded of the boy to be allowed to see the Secretary, telling his story about being sent by Dr. Verdi to deliver the medicine with his directions. The porter told him that his orders were to admit no one, and that he could not see Mr. Seward; that he would deliver the package himself. To this Payne would not consent, but persisted in saying that he _must_ see Mr. Seward. After considerable parleying, he started up stairs, and the porter, seeing that he would go, and thinking that he might complain of his conduct to the Secretary, asked him to pardon him, to which Payne replied, "O, I know, that's all right." He was wearing heavy boots, and took no pains to walk lightly as he went up the stairs, whereupon the porter requested him not to make so much noise, to which, however, he paid no attention. As he approached the head of the stairs, he was met by Mr. Frederick Seward, who had been attracted by the noise, to whom he said, "I want to see Mr. Seward." Frederick went into his father's room, and finding him asleep, returned saying, "You cannot see him." All this time Payne stood holding out the package in his left hand, grasping with his right hand the pistol in his overcoat pocket. Frederick requested him to give him the package, saying he would deliver it; but Payne persisted in saying that that would not do; he _must_ see Mr. Seward,--he _must_ see him.

Frederick finally said, "I am the proprietor here, and his son; if you cannot leave your message with me, you cannot leave it at all." Payne still continued parleying with Frederick for some time; but finding that his talking availed nothing, he started as if to go down stairs. This, however, was only a feint on his part in order to throw Frederick off of his guard and to get rid of the porter who stood behind him. He again walked so heavily that the porter requested him not to make so much noise; but at that moment, Payne, having prepared himself for the encounter, turned quickly, and making a spring towards Frederick, struck him two or three times with the pistol, which he had all the time held in his hand, fracturing his skull and knocking him senseless to the floor. Having learned which was the room occupied by the invalid by seeing Frederick go into it, Payne rushed past the prostrate man, opened the door of the Secretary's room, and was met by Sergeant Robinson. Having broken and thrown down his revolver in his encounter with Frederick, he had drawn his dagger, and at his first encounter with the sergeant he struck him with his knife, cutting an ugly gash in his forehead, and partially knocking him down. He then pressed rapidly forward, knife in hand, to where the invalid lay in his bed. Throwing himself upon him, he commenced striking at his face and neck with his dagger. The Secretary was reclining in a half-sitting posture, having the coverings well drawn up about his neck and chin, to which circumstance the failure of the would-be assassin to take his life was no doubt due. The sergeant, as soon as he recovered his equilibrium, sprang upon Payne, and Major Seward, having been awakened by the screams of his sister, sprang into the room in his night-dress. Finding the sergeant grappling him in such a way as to hinder the effectiveness of his thrusts at the Secretary, and probably thinking that he had accomplished his purpose, he turned his attention toward making his escape. In disentangling himself from the grasp of the two men who now had hold of him, he gave to Major Seward several severe cuts about the head and face, crying all the time, "I am mad! I am mad!" Finally, pulling himself loose, he started to make his way to the street. Meeting a Mr. Emrick W. Hansel, another nurse, on the stairs, he made a thrust at him with his knife, inflicting an ugly wound. He now left the house, leaving five of its inmates stabbed, cut, and bleeding behind him. Having reached the street, he deliberately threw his dagger away, mounted the horse which he had hitched in front of the door, and rode off. Thus, for the time being, this inhuman monster passed from sight, having made good his retreat minus his dagger, hat, and revolver. He was not a moment too soon in withdrawing from the house. The colored porter, as soon as he saw the violence done to Frederick Seward at the head of the stairs, ran down and out into the street with the cry of "murder," and did not stop until he reached General Angur's headquarters, where he reported the occurrence and ran back immediately, accompanied by two or three soldiers. They reached the house just in time to see Payne mount his horse and ride away. He was followed some distance by the porter, who kept nearly up with him for some time, as he rode slowly at first, but he then mended his pace, and was soon out of sight. The soldiers, having no orders and not comprehending the situation, made no effort to stop him, although the colored boy who gave the alarm, and who preceded them, pointed him out to them as the man who had so ruthlessly broken the quiet of that house and produced such consternation amongst its peaceful inmates.

Although Payne rode away so leisurely at the start, he put his horse to the top of his speed as soon as he had fairly cleared the streets and reached the suburbs of the city. About two hours later, a bay horse, saddled, and blind of an eye, came running up a by-road that led to Camp Barry, about three-fourths of a mile east of the capitol, and was there halted and taken charge of and placed in General Angur's stables. The horse, when found, bore marks of having been ridden at a furious rate. The sweat was streaming from every pore and dripping to the ground. This proved to be the bay horse that Booth had bought from Gardner, the neighbor of Dr. Mudd, in November, 1864, and which he sold to his co-conspirator, Arnold, in January, 1865, according to his own statement made some time before the assassination.

This was no doubt the horse rode by Payne on that night. The most probable theory is, that being pushed and urged at a furious rate, and being blind of an eye, he stumbled and pitched headlong, throwing, and probably stunning, his rider, after which he regained his footing and made his escape before Payne had sufficiently recovered to get hold of him. The fact of his being a little lame when caught goes to sustain this theory. Thus was the would-be assassin prevented from joining his comrades, Booth and Herold, in their flight, and compelled to skulk and hide in the suburbs of the city for the next two days. He was without arms and hatless, and was compelled to throw away his overcoat, which was afterwards found, on account of the bloodstains on its sleeves. He knew that the alarm would spread rapidly throughout the vicinity, and in his present condition he dared not venture out through the country, so he was compelled to spend the time in hiding and skulking until he was forced from his retreat by hunger. Making a covering for his head out of a sleeve from his under-shirt, which he drew over it like a turban, he shouldered a pick, which he had stolen from the trenches, and at near the hour of midnight on the 17th he entered the city. He went directly to the house of Mrs. Surratt, as the safest place he could find to rest, hide, and refresh himself, and obtain an outfit in which he might make his escape. Here he felt that he could trust the secret of his presence. Unfortunately for him, as well as for Mrs. Surratt, the government had by this time come into possession of such information as justified it in sending its military police to that house, with orders to arrest its inmates.

It had been discovered that the house of Mrs. Surratt had been the headquarters of the conspirators in Washington City. The officer in charge of the police, Major H. W. Smith, had reached the house but a short time before Payne arrived. Payne came with his turban on his head, and the pick on his shoulder, and rang the door-bell. Major Smith responded to the bell, and asked him to come in. Seeing the officer, he said he believed he was mistaken in the house. Being asked whose house he sought, he replied, "Mrs. Surratt's." The officer replied, "This is the place," and drawing his revolver on him, ordered him to come in. Payne entered, and the officer closed the door. He then inquired who he was, and what he wanted. To these questions he replied that he was a poor man, and a laborer, and that Mrs. Surratt had sent for him to dig a drain for her. On being asked what brought him there at that time of night, he replied that he "merely called to see what time Mrs. Surratt wanted him to go to work in the morning." The officer saw that his hands bore no marks of labor, and at once suspected he had caged one of the conspirators. He placed him under arrest and took him along with the others in the house, to General Angur's headquarters, where he was held for identification. William H. Bell, the colored boy who was second waiter at Mr. Seward's, being sent for, at once unhesitatingly identified him as the man who had produced such consternation in the house of Mr. Seward, on the night of the 14th, by his determined efforts to take the Secretary's life. Lewis Payne, having been thus captured and identified, and Mrs. Mary E. Surratt, were the first amongst the conspirators to be held for trial.

After the attack at Secretary Seward's, Dr. Verdi and two or three other surgeons were at once called to examine and treat the Secretary and the other victims of Payne's dagger. The house in which the onslaught was made had the appearance of a charnal house or slaughter-pen. The Secretary was found to have received three or four severe cuts about the face and neck, which were only made dangerous by the loss of blood they had occasioned and the weak condition of the patient.

The Secretary made a slow but good recovery. Of the other four wounded men, the wounds of Mr. Frederick Seward proved the most serious, as his skull had been fractured and depressed, so as to render him unconscious, from which condition he was only recalled by a surgical operation.

All finally recovered. Here again we are called to notice the providences in the case, leading to the capture of Payne, and to the bringing on his head the just reward of his deeds.