973.7L63 Wasson , William. B2W288h He Knew Lincoln: Captain Cummings Recollections. v LINCOLN ROOM UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY MEMORIAL the Class of 1901 founded by HARLAN HOYT HORNER and HENRIETTA CALHOUN HORNER THE CAPTAIN'S RECOLLECTIONS OF "HONEST ABE" From the time Lincoln came to Springfield until he left for Washington. Part I SO you boys want to know if I ever knew Abraham Lincoln. Why, I knew Abraham, or "Honest Abe" as all we that knew him always called him, — and who did not know Lincoln for miles around. I remember him from the time he came to Springfield, way back in 1837, until that eventful day came when we sorrowfully laid him away over yonder in Oak Ridge Ceme- tery. I remember that day well. It was May 4, 1855. I will never forget that day as long as I live, for it seemed as if the whole world just stopped — sort of hushed like. Lincoln came, God's word upon his lips and with God's mantle about him, he did his allotted task, then vanished, leaving behind a memory, half mortal, and half myth. Where did I first meet Lincoln? Well, it seems I always knew Abe. You see we grew up together. His law office, where he and Billie H. Herndon practiced for so many years, was just across the street from my store — and morning and evening we got into the friendly habit of walking back and forth together. You see we lived just around the corner from each other. Those were interesting days! Everybody felt as if he had a share and a responsibility in running our country. Slavery was a big question. People were divided on the Dred Scott decision and arguing over the Missouri Compromise. Our neighbors in the South were pressing State Rights. I wish every- body today took as much interest in our country's problems as we all did then. But maybe times are different; it appears to me that the only time people concern themselves about how our country is run is along about election time, and even then they do more complaining than they do voting. But to go back to when I first met Lin- coln. It was in 1836 or 1837, shortly after the Illinois State Legislature in which he was then a member had, under his leader- ship, selected Springfield as the State Capital in place of Vandalia. Lincoln you know was living at a place called New Salem, a small village about 20 miles north of Springfield. When the State Capital came to Springfield Abe came to live here. He had been admit- ted to the bar shortly before. You want to know what Lincoln looked like the first time I ever saw him? Well, I'll tell you. He had ridden to town on a borrowed horse, with no earthly property save a pair of old, worn-out saddlebags, which con- tained a few clothes. He came into the store with those saddlebags on his arm and said, "Mr. Cummings, I want to buy the furnish- ings for a single bed." I told him that the mattress, blankets, sheets, pillows and other fixings would cost him about $17.00. He allowed that probably was cheap enough but the real fact was he was unable to pay cash for them — yes sir, Old Abe was outspokenly honest in every- thing he said or did. I can remember him standing there lean- ing against the counter asking me if I would trust him until Christmas when he would pay me if his experiment as a lawyer was a success. Then his face grew sad, and look- ing at me with those deep-set black eyes of his he said, "If I fail in this attempt I do not know that I can ever pay you." As he spoke, I thought then, as I know now after many, many years, I never saw a sadder face. And when I saw it become more care- worn and trouble-marked through the many eventful years to follow, it always made me remember Him of whom 'twas said, "He was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." Did I let him have the bed and mattress? I certainly did, for I knew that here was a man who was just naturally honest, and some day he would do just what he said he would do — pay for it. Abraham Lincoln al- ways did exactly what he said he would do. No wonder everybody trusted him and called him "Honest Abe." I tell you people do not give a msn a name like that unless he earns it, and if ever a man deserved to be called "Honest Abe" — Lincoln was that man. Every time I look at a picture of Lincoln and see those many trouble-marks on his face, it seems to me I can trace the cause of each one. You see I knew all about many of his troubles from his first love affair with sweet Ann Rutledge, who was just 19 years old when Lincoln met her. Everybody liked Ann. She and Abe were engaged in 1835, but fate, as it sometimes does, stepped in, and Ann, Lincoln's first love, died Aug- ust 25, 1835. Poor Lincoln, the death of Ann Rutledge was his first real great sorrow. For a time it affected his mind; he became melancholy, and his friends kept a close watch over him. He said to me one day, as we were sitting in his office in the White House during the war, "Cummings, my heart is buried with Ann." He told me he really and truly loved that girl and continued, "I think often of her now," then stopped, and a smile came over that careworn face as he sighed, "I have loved the name of Rutledge to this day." Did he tell me about building a flatboat and going to New Orleans? I have heard him tell many a time how he and John Seamon and Walter Carman con- structed a large flatboat way back in 1831 for a fellow by the name of Denton Offutt, who ran a store where Lincoln was clerk. They loaded it with barrels of pork, corn and other things and rafted it down the Sangamon River to where that met the Illi- nois River, then down the Illinois River to the Mississippi and from there to New Or- leans. When Lincoln was strolling about New Orleans he must have seen much of slavery, for the city was full of it. Here, for the first time, he really saw and felt its evils. Abe told me how he and his two companions once passed a slave auction where they were selling a pretty, young negro girl and how he could not stand it and said, "Boys, let's away from this — if I ever get a chance to hit that thing — slavery — I'll hit it hard!" and by jimminy — Old Abe certainly did it in '61, when the cruel war first began. Did I know Mary Todd who afterwards became Mrs. Lincoln? Yes, I knew her very well. She came, if I remember rightly, to visit her sister in Springfield about 1839. Her father and mother lived somewhere in Kentucky. Mary was then about 25 years old, a very pretty girl with dark brown hair and snappy bluish- gray eyes. She was smart and attractive, I tell you. All the young fellows like Stephen Douglas started to court her, but she had set her cap for Lincoln, for she was an ambitious girl and had faith that Abe would go far. Lincoln was charmed with her wit and beauty. They became engaged sometime in 1840 and agreed to be married on the first of January 1841. But a funny thing happened on the day set for the wedding. The house was all dec- orated, the supper prepared, the guests all there and ready to watch the ceremony. Mary was in her wedding dress and veil, and I can see her now as she sat there, nervous- ly waiting for the groom. Lincoln was late. An hour passed — the bride became frantic. All of the guests became mighty restless. Where in the world was Abe? After another hour some of us went out to find him. But nobody did, and so the guests went home. Mary in hysterics went to her room. I often wondered what her feelings were, for she was sensitive and proud. Along about daybreak some of us found Lincoln, restless, gloomy, miserable, a real object of pity. Abe simply could not, when it came right down to it, show up at the wed- ding. I had my own idea — I think the mem- ory Lincoln carried with him of Ann Rut- ledge had something to do with it. Mary and Abe met a long time afterwards at the home of Simeon Francis, who was the editor of the Journal. They patched things up and were quietly married on Friday, November 4, 1842. You want to know when folks started calling him "Honest Abe"? Well, it was before he came to Springfield, where I first met him, and when he was still a clerk in Offutt's store back in New Salem — you re- member Offutt was the man Lincoln was working for the time he built the flatboat and went to New Orleans. Well, one night a woman came into the store to buy some tea, and after she had gone, Abe discovered she had paid him a sixpence too much. So what did Abe do after he had locked the store? He would not wait until morning, but just started off in the rain down the muddy road to the widow's house, which was a mile or so away. He didn't think anything about it. It wasn't his money, so he wanted to return it at once. Abe was that plain honest with everybody. No wonder he was called "Honest Abe." Did I ever hear any of the Lincoln-Doug- las debates? Never missed but one. Why everybody from miles around would go to those famous debates. Some came on horse- back, others in buggies, and some would get up before daybreak to yoke up the oxen and drive in from way out on the prairie. Whenever Lincoln and Douglas held a de- bate, everyone just naturally took a holiday. Whole families came, children, dogs and all — they brought their food in big baskets and made a day of it. You see there were no big halls in those days, and the debates were generally held in the woods at the edge of the town. I tell you in those days every- body wanted to have a hand in running our government and to learn all there was to know about the important questions of the day. I often wonder how much better a government we would have now if father, mother and everybody else took the same deep interest in things as we did back in 1854 to 1865. Senator Stephen A. Douglas of Illinois was called "The Little Giant," and it seemed as if fate had decreed that he and Lincoln should always be rivals. Even when Abe was courting Mary Todd, Douglas tried to cut him out. They ran against each other for State Senator in 1858, and Douglas was elected. Lincoln naturally was disappointed, but he said he was used to disappointments and could perhaps stand it better than Doug- las. He felt like the big boy who stubbed his toe: it hurt too bad to laugh, and he was too big to cry. Lincoln while debating, never lost his temper — he always left that to the other fel- low. I remember well when Douglas went after Lincoln .n his speech at Galesburg, Illinois. Douglas was a small, pompous man, and had a great respect for his own importance, while Lincoln was a tall, mo- dest man, and took things easy like. You know in those days both candidates always spoke from the same platform, so whatever they had to say about each other was said face to face. I wonder if it would not be a good system to follow today instead of talk- ing over the radio. I always like to size up the candidates myself. Well, as I was telling you, Douglas went right after Lincoln, and the harder he would hit, the more calmly Old Abe would sit there and smile. When he got unusually sarcastic, Lincoln always gave a hearty laugh. I tell you Lincoln was a wise man. He always let the other fellow get as mad as he wanted to. Douglas closed his speech that day with an insulting and bitter attack on Lincoln, telling how he had tried every- thing and had always been a failure. He had tried farming and had failed at that; had tried flatboating and had failed at that; had tried store keeping and had failed at that; had tried school teaching and had failed at that; had tried law and had failed at that; and now, after failing at everything else, he has gone into politics. The Judge allowed that at politics he would make the worst failure of all. I tell you, we that were Lincoln's friends were aroused to anger at the Judge, but Old Abe sat and laughed during Douglas's tongue-lashing, and we all wondered what he would say. He stood up and turned to the Judge, who sat there, with a self-satis- fied expression on his face as if to say, "There now, I settled that fellow." Lincoln admitted that everything Judge Douglas had said was true. Then Abe po- litely thanked him for doing what his mo- desty would forbid him to do himself, — for giving such a complete history of his life. "It was true, every word of it. I have done all these things. I worked on a farm, I split rails. I have worked on a flatboat, and I have tried to practice law. But there is just one thing my good friend forgot to men- tion in my line of accomplishments. Douglas says I sold liquor over the counter, when J was keeping store. But he forgot to mention that while I was on one side of the counter, he himsell was on the other." Everyone knew Lincoln did not drink. Well boys, you should have heard the crowd cheer and yell, for everybody knew the Judge well — knew his infirmity for li- quor — and it set the whole audience wild. It was a long time before Lincoln could get them quiet. Abe was a clever politician. He understood people, and when everybody quieted down he delivered one of those mas- terly orations that made him famous. Years afterwards, people said they remembered that Douglas had spoken, but they would always remember what Lincoln had said. As long as Lincoln is remembered, Douglas will not be forgotten. In my mind, the trouble with Douglas was, that he was more a debater than an orator for he made no appeal to the heart. Lincoln knew and understood us common everyday people, for he was one of us. He talked to us that came from the farms, workshops and villages with plain words and homely phrases in a way we could un- derstand. When Lincoln was finally elected President, Douglas, who was a real man after all though different from Lincoln in his viewpoint, rallied to Lincoln's support. Why I remember just as if it were yester- day we were all on the east portico of the Capitol, when Lincoln took the oath of of- fice. He was looking around for a place to lay that high hat of his, when the Judge stepped up and took it and held it while his old rival on many a platform was sworn in as President. Lincoln's political ideas, as you will see when you start reading and studying his speeches and debates in your history lessons, were explained in a straightforward, simple way. The most noted ones he delivered at Peoria, Illinois, in October, 1854, at Spring- field, Illinois, his own town, in June, 1858, and one at Freeport, Illinois, August, 1858. Of course, his most famous speech, and the one that did more to bring people's attention to him as a Presidential candidate than any other single speech — even those of the fam- ous Lincoln-Douglas debates — was the one he delivered at Cooper Union in New York on the 27th of February, 1860. To be sure, Abe did a lot of talking where- ever he went, but to my mind, as I look back now, those four speeches gave every- body something to think about. They showed just where he stood; and in them he seemed to say what everybody thought but only Old Abe knew how to express. Well, I'll tell you. About once a week we used to talk things over. I always had a great respect for his opinion on any ques- tion. He was a great reader, took all the leading papers that were published, North and South. He was always a fair-minded man and wanted to get both sides of a ques- tion. He had a habit of putting those long legs of his on the porch railing and think- ing over both sides of a discussion. You never could get Abe to express his opinion on anything until he had considered all the facts on both sides and had done a heap of 12 thinking; and when he did talk, what he said was worth listening to and remember- ing. Lots of people I know are not like Lincoln. I remember once we were talking about public opinion, and Lincoln said, "Our very Government rests on public opinion. Who- ever can change public opinion can change the Government. But public opinion on any subject in our political life always has a 'central idea.' At the beginning of our Gov- ernment it was 'the equality of men.' The one great living principle of all democratic governments is that the representatives are bound to carry out the wishes of their con- stituents. The people are the real masters of those who serve." I remember another great thing that Lin- coln said years later when he made his sec- ond inaugural address. The nation was at war, and feeling ran deep. Many spiteful sayings were being directed against those of the Southland, but never did I know Lincoln to say or write anything harsh against those who took up the sword against the Union. Lincoln knew what the people thought, and the papers were full of it. He often spoke against this feeling, and I guess that was on his mind when he paused in his reading of the address and looked over the sea of faces and said in that tired, patient voice of his: "With malice towards none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and for his orphans — to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations." Abraham Lincoln never cherished bitter thoughts toward people, whether they agreed with him or not. You see I knew Lincoln well, from the time he came into my store way back in 1837 until the day he was shot in Ford's Theater in Washington on that fateful day, April 15, 1865, a full 28 years. I was with Lincoln the day in May, 1860, when he received the telegram from Chicago telling him he was nominated by the Re- publican Convention. We were all together at the office of a Mr. Conklin, who was a lawyer and had his office over Chatterton's jewelry store. I remember it well. There was Old Abe over by the front window, stretched out on a settee — his head resting on a cushion at one end and his feet out over the other end, the most unconcerned man in the room. I tell you we were all excited as the telegrams were coming in from Chicago telling about the balloting. After discussing the situation with us for awhile, Lincoln arose and said: "Well, Cum- mings, I believe I will go back to my office and practice law." And would you believe it, back he went just as if the convention were not worrying him! Finally came the message from Chicago signed by the name of J. J. S. Wilson: 14 "Vote just announced, whole No. 466, necessary to choice 234 — Lincoln 354, the nomination was made unanimous amid tense enthusiasm." Lincoln read the telegram. I tell you we were excited. Some of us started running out into the street, shouting "Lincoln elected!" "Lincoln elected!" Old Abe just read the telegram, put it in his pocket, turned to us and said, with a smile on his face, "I guess there's a little lady down at our house who will be glad to know this." And home he went putting on that old high hat that he always kept his papers in when he was in court. Did I ever hear Lincoln tell jokes? Yes, many of them. I hear a lot they say he told, and some are not true. I just thought of a joke Mr. Lincoln tried on Mrs. Lin- coln. You know that Lincoln was careless about his dress, sometimes almost to the point of being shiftless; I guess his mind was always on something else. The neigh- bors all joked him because his fences needed repairing and his yard cleaning up. Well, one day he came back from a trip of several days with a friend of ours by the name of Richardson. When they drove up to the house, Lincoln noticed a great and surprising change. The grass was cut, the fences fixed and painted, and everything looked spic-and-span. It did not look like the same place. Mrs. Lincoln took advan- tage of Lincoln's absence and had every- thing fixed up. She was standing at the 15 door, all exc.ted, to see how her improve- ments would strike Lincoln. Well, what do you think Old Abe did? He pulled up his horse but did not get out of the buggy. He sat there looking around, saying nary a word, then, turning to his wife who was standing there, all expectancy, he bowed politely without the slightest show of recognition, and said, "You'll excuse me, my good woman, but can you tell me where Mr. Lincoln lives?" You should have seen Mrs. Lincoln, who couldn't relish a joke. She said, "You get right out of that buggy, and I'll show you personally where Mr. Lincoln lives." I tell you we neighbors got a good laugh out of that.. The night before the Lincoln family left for Washington, from which he never re- turned alive, I went over for a last farewell chat with Abe. There he was in his shirt sleeves with some hotel cards in his. hand on which he had written "Lincoln, Execu- tive Mansion, Washington." He had writ- ten them himself and was tacking them on his many trunks, which he had just finished tying up with old rope. As I looked at those cards, marked "Lin- coln, Executive Mansion," I thought of the first time I met Abe when he wanted to be trusted for that bed, veritably — "God moves in a mysterious way," and how little we know the men He has in training for some coming crucial event. Well, the next morning all Springfield, as it seemed to me, was down at the old 16 frame station to S22 the Lincolns off. I remember the day well; when i woke up it was dark, cold and drizzly. A special train stood waiting. At half past seven, Lincoln and his family entered the dilapidated hotel bus, they were staying at the hotel as their house was closed, and drove down to the station. Everybody crowded around to say good- bye. I guess there must have been a thou- sand of us there. There were not many breakfasts cooking in town that morning, for Old Abe was going to leave us and no- body knew when he would be back. The time was too short for Lincoln to shake hands and say good-bye, except to a few of us. The engineer, old Bill Baxter, rang the bell and the Lincolns got on board. The rain kept coming down harder and har- der and it started getting blacker and blacker but no one left. Everyone felt sobbish like — some women started weeping and crying. I had to blow my nose and wipe my eyes several times myself. I often wonder as I sit by the fire and think it over — if those people didn't have an idea that our old neighbor might never come back alive. It seemed that a gloomy and depressing spirit was on the face of the whole company. I tell you that Lincoln's leaving was a solemn affair. We were all watching Lincoln. For a moment he disappeared in the car, then came out on the back platform carrying his old high hat, and held up his hands. The crowd 17 became hushed. All you could hear was the falling rain and occasional chokes and sobs here and there in the crowd. Then in a voice that was choked with emotion, and with tears filling his eyes, he said good-bye to his friends and neighbors. "My friends, no one not in my situation, can appreciate my feeling of sadness at this parting. To this place, and to the kindness of these people, I owe everthing. Here I have lived a quarter of a century, and have passed from a young to an old man. Here my children have been born, and one is bur- ied. I now leave, not knowing when or whether ever I may return, with a task be- fore me greater than that which rested upon Washington. "Without the assistance of that Divine Be- ing, who ever attended him, I cannot suc- ceed. With that assistance, I cannot fail. Trusting in Him, who can go with me, and remain with you, and be everywhere for good, let us confidently hope that all will yet be well. To His care I commend you as I hope in your prayers you will commend me. I bid you an affectionate farewell." The whistle blew, the bell rang, and the train carrying my old friend moved off slow- ly in the falling rain. Not a sound was heard but sobbing and crying as the crowd broke up and started back towards town. There was not much business done in Springfield that day. — Continued in Vol. 4 — 18 FIND ACTOR'S STORY OF LINCOLN'S DEATH He was on the Stage the Night Lincoln was Shot. Old Trunk Stored 50 Years Gives Up Secret. AFTER being stored in an old trunk for more than half a century in the home of his descendants, a paper containing a vivid description of the assas- sination of Lincoln, written by E. A. Emer- son, an old-time actor and friend of John Wilkes Booth, has been found in a small brick house in a side street in Alexandria, Va. Emerson played the role of Lord Dun- dreary in the cast of "Our American Cousin," in Laura Keene's company at old Ford's Theatre in Tenth Street, the night Lincoln was shot, and witnessed the assas- sination of the great emancipator. He was the father of Charles O. Emerson of 313 North Royal Street, Alexandria, who found the paper giving Emerson's version of the tragedy with other heirlooms, including photographs of his father in the role of Lord Dundreary and of John Wilkes Booth in a Scotch role. Most of the members of the company in which Emerson was playing were arrested, 19 and he had to report to the police daily until the matter was finally cleared with the cap- ture of Booth and the execution of Mrs. Sur- ratt and the other alleged conspirators. That was the last play in which Emerson ever took part. The most prized relic found by Emerson in the old trunk is a faded and crumpled program of the cast of "Our American Cousin," with a small blood spot in the upper corner. This program is declared to have been found on the floor to the right of Mr. Lincoln's chair when Mr. Emerson hur- ried up to the stage box after the shooting. Whether it is the blood of Mr. Lincoln, or that of Major Rathbone, who was in Presi- dent Lincoln's party the night of the tragedy, and whose son is Henry R. Rathbone, now a member of Congress from Illinois, is not known. The paper giving the version of Emerson, found in the Alexandria trunk, reads: Emerson's Story "I knew John Wilkes Booth well, having played with him in dozens of cities through- out the East and Middle West. He was a kind-hearted, genial person, and no cleverer gentleman ever lived. Everybody loved him on the stage, though he was a little excitable and eccentric. "The day before President Lincoln was shot I was standing in front of Ford's The- atre when John walked up, evidently in an agitated state of mind. He grabbed the cane from my hands and said: "Ned, did you hear what that old scoun- drel did the other day?" "I asked him who he was talking about, and he answered: " 'Why, that old scoundrel, Lincoln. He went into Jeff Davis's house in Richmond, sat down and threw his long legs over the arm of a chair and squirted tobacco juice all over the place. Somebody ought to kill him.' "I said, 'For God's sake. John, stop where you are! I am going to quit you.' "With that he pulled my cane down over his shoulders with such force that it broke in four pieces. I still have that cane. "Of course, I was afraid of becoming in- volved in any trouble he might get into, and that is the nearest he ever came to saying anything to me about conspiracy. "It never dawned on me that he had any intention of doing any bodily harm to the President, for had I known it, even though I was his friend I should certainly have done all in my power to prevent it. Believes Kidnapping Was Intended "I feel confident that at first his idea was not to kill the President, but to capture him and carry him South to force an exchange of prisoners by holding him as a hostage. Reali2ing the hopelessness of this, however, I think he then conceived the idea of assas- sinating him. 21 "I was standing in front of the theatre on the day of the murder when a messenger from the President rode up and asked for a box for the President's party for the per- formance that evening. "Replying that the theatre was at Mr. Lincoln's disposal, Mr. Ford, owner of the theatre, took a pencil and wrote across the box of the stage: 'The President and his party will be at the theatre tonight.' "A few minutes later Booth walked in and, observing the notice said: 'What, that old scoundrel is going to be here tonight?' "Mr. Ford said: 'Yes, John; but I would not speak of him in that way if I were you.' "With that Booth walked rapidly away and disappeared. I do not know where he went, but my idea is that his plan of killing the President and the heads of the Cabinet was formed at that time. "On Friday night, April 15, 1855 the the- atre was crowded and the performance was going along smoothly. Mr. Lincoln's party was late in arriving, ?nd we were in the midst of the second act when thev arrived and went up to the box that had been saved for them. "After some difficulty in quieting the audi- ence, the President seated himself and requested me — I was on the stage at the time — to go on with the play. When the Shot Rang Out "After the scene was over, it being the first night that I had played my part, I stood near a gas jet on the stage, just under Mr. Lincoln's box, reading over my lines. "Suddenly a shot rang out, apparently coming from the audience. It startled me, and everything was confusion out in front. I walked out to the center of the stage, and while standing there I was amazed to see Booth, his hair in wild disorder, leap from the upper box. "He caught his spur in a flag draped under the box and fell heavily, but this did not prevent him from rushing frantically down to the footlights, brandishing a large bowie knife in his hands, and crying 'Sic semper tyrannis!' "Turning, he rushed directly across the stage to the right and up the side wall to the back of the theatre, where he had a little stable in which he kept his horse and buggy. There was a boy holding the horse in the alley. "Booth mounted the horse, struck the boy in the chest, and galloped down the alley to F Street and out F, I presume, to the Ana- costia Bridge and across the bridge into Maryland. "In the pandemonium which followed no one seemed to know just what to do, and it was nearly twelve hours later before any pursuit of the assassin was gotten under way. "In attempting to grapple with Booth as he leaped from the box, Major Rathbone, a member of the President's party, was severely cut on the arm. 23 Laura Keene Rushes to Box "Laura Keene, one of the leading mem- bers of our company, was one of the first to reach the box, and when I saw her she was holding the President's head in her lap and the handsome yellow satin dress she wore in her part was stained all down the front with his blood. "After a great deal of hauling around, and tearing off of the President's clothes in search of the fatal wound, he was placed on a shutter and carried from the theatre out into the street. "As no one seemed to know what to do with him, he was taken into a house across the street and carried into a small hall bed- room and placed on a little cot. There, sur- rounded by his family and his Cabinet, he died the next morning." To the. student of Lincolniana one of the most interesting parts of the Emerson ver- sion is his statement that Booth, brandishing a large bowie knife, shouted, "Sic Semper Tyrannis!" There has always been contro- versy over the question whether Booth uttered such a cry. William J. Ferguson, the famous old-time actor, and who was until recently known to be alive, always declared very positively to his friends that the assassin did not exclaim, "Sic Semper Tyrannis!" Ferguson played the role of the Lieutenant Vernon, R. N., in the "American Cousin" the night of the tragedy. I SAW LINCOLN SHOT The Story of an April Memory that Lived for Sixty-nine Years By LIEUTENANT JOHN B. RIVARD as told to FRANK M. BUTLER Editor's Note: Mr. Rivard fought through three years of the Civil War. Discharged from the Union army with the rank of lieu- tenant, he married and stayed in Washington for a honeymoon. On the night of April 14, 1865, he took his bride to Ford's Theater; there she would see Abraham Lincoln. The play was a comedy, Our American Cousin. Booth's pistol turned the occasion into tragedy. On February 27, 1934, not long after tell- ing Mr. Butler this story, Mr. Rivard died in Woodbine, New Jersey. He would have been one hundred on May 24. — Reprint from Liberty magazine. "My memory is not so good as it once was for recent happenings; but I can never for- get the assassination of Abraham Lincoln I was only the width of the stage from him when he was shot. I do not believe that anybody actually saw the shot fired. If they did, why was not the alarm raised sooner? I was in a location to have seen as much of what went on in his box as anybody 25 except his party and the actors on the stage; but I did not happen to be looking at the moment. Furthermore, an appreciable length of time elapsed between the report of the pistol and the cry, "The President has been shot!" This cry came from his box, and even there no one noted Booth's presence until the shot rang out. Major Rathbone, who was the first to see Booth, probably did not realize that he had done more than shoot at the President. As Booth leaped from the box, the major merely cried, "Stop him! Stop that man!" and the actors and stage hands were so thunderstruck that they failed to do anything. No one can say exactly how long it was from the time the shot was fired until Miss Harris of the President's party called out that he had been shot. But between those two happenings Booth had struggled with Major Rathbone and stabbed him in the arm and had leaped to the stage, breaking one leg; he had then regained his feet and hobbled to the footlights to yell, "Sic semper tyrannis! The South is avenged!" and had managed to get away to the stage door and to mount his horse for flight. Laura Keene, the actress, ran to the foot- lights and exclaimed, "For God's sake, keep your seats and everything will be all right!" Miss Harris called for stimulants, and Miss Keene inquired what the trouble was. "The President has been shot!" was Miss Harris's answer. Naturally all eyes had been on Booth, and this was the first, as I believe, that any one outside of the Presidential party knew of what happened. My bride and I had not gone to the theater merely to see Lincoln, but the fact that he was to be present had made me doubly proud to take her. I had bought seats in the box directly opposite the President's. The first act was more than half through when he and his party came in. General Grant and his wife were to have accom- panied the Lincoln party, but in the after- noon the general had been called out of town. I had always felt that if Grant had been in the President's box that night the dreadful happening would have been avoided, as he was a restlessly active man and would probably have detected Booth's presence in time. A big easy armchair had been provided for the President. I can see him and his party yet as they sat there. He laughed at the jokes and chatted with the others, and once he rose and put on his overcoat. It was a cold night and the theater was none too warm. All was gayety and pleasure; nothing gave the slightest warning. Suddenly the shot rang out. Everybody at first, apparently, thought it a part of the play. When Miss Harris cried out what had happened, a woman screamed "Murder!" and then bed- lam broke loose. Instantly the audience was changed into a howling, raging mob. 27 Those too weak to buffet it were knocked down and trampled. We saw that we could do nothing, so we waited in the box until soldiers came in and restored order. Army surgeons in the audience made their way to the Presidential box, and Lincoln was then carried to a house across Tenth Street. When we reached the street a vast crowd had gathered, and men with ropes and torches were yelling, "Kill the rebels! Burn the theater!" Undoubtedly they would have set fire to it but for drastic action by the Militia. All night long mobs roamed the streets, making such a disturbance that no one could have slept. As it was, newspapers issued frequent edi- tions throughout the night and everybody stayed up to hear reports of the President's condition. It was only after the announce- ment of his death, shortly after 7 A. M., that we undertook to get any rest. We realized that there was nothing else anyone of us could do, as we sorrowfully turned and left his bedside, as that great soul winged his way to his Maker." 28 OLD DIARY DESCRIBES MURDER OF LINCOLN Attending Doctor's Notebook bares Details of Assassination 68 years ago tonight. Philadelphia, April 14. — Sixty-nine years ago tonight Abraham Lincoln was assassi- nated in Ford's Theater, Washington. Among those in the audience was Dr. Charles Taft, who attended the martyred President until death, and his diary tells anew the story of that fateful night. The notebook, which recently came into the possession of Dr. A. S. W. Rosenbach, Philadelphia, Bibliophile relates: "At about 10:30 my attention was directed toward the President's box by the report of a pistol, and I saw a man jump from the stage box, shouting as he did so, 'Sic semper tyrannis!' "As he struck the stage he partly fell, sinking down until his knees touched the floor — a few moments of great confusion followed "I heard several shouts for a surgeon; this was the first intimation I had that anyone had been wounded. I sprang upon the stage, calling out that I was a surgeon, when I was seized by several men and lifted up to the stage box. 29 "'When I entered the President was lying on the floor, surrounded by a number of men who were trying to remove him." Dr. Taft recounts in detail how the Presi- dent was carried across the street to a private residence and how doctors sought to save his life. "The wound ceased to bleed or discharge at about 5:30 A. M.," he continues in his diary, "and from that time on the breathing was stertorious, but gradually increased in frequency and decreased in strength up to the last breath which was drawn at 21 minutes and 5 seconds after 7; the heart did not cease to beat until 22 minutes, 10 seconds past 7. "My hand was upon the President's heart and my eye upon the watch of the surgeon general, who was standing by my side." 30 ik •BDDKLET5 B U FFALO Vol. 1 The Ghost of Chateau Thierry A gripping story with the World War as a background. Vol. 2 Captured and Sunk By A German Sea Raider. Vol. 3 He Knew Lincoln— Part I Captain Cumming's Recollections of Honest Abe. Vol. 4 He Knew Lincoln— Part II The Captain continues his personal recollections. Vol. 5 Household Helps A practical book of home service. Vol. 6 Beyond the Sound of Machine Gun. By the same Author as Vol. I. We are only listing the Titles of the first six. A new volume of "Good Tales Well Told" are pub- lished every month — ALL Interesting. © 1935 WILLIAM W. REED PUBLISHED BY REED BOOKLETS, BUFFALO. N. Qj^