NEW CREEK, WEST VIRGINIA,
April 16 (Sunday), 1865.
DEAREST:— When I
heard first yesterday morning of the awful tragedy at Washington, I
was pained and shocked to a degree I have never before
experienced. I got onto the cars, then just starting, and rode down
to Cumberland. The probable consequences, or rather the possible results in
their worst imaginable form, were presented to my mind one after the other,
until I really began to feel that here was a calamity so extensive that in no
direction could be found any, the slightest, glimmer of consolation.
The Nation's great joy turned suddenly to a still greater
sorrow! A ruler tested and proved in every way, and in
every way found equal to the occasion, to be exchanged for a new man whose
ill-omened beginning made the Nation hang its head. Lincoln for Johnson! The
work of reconstruction requiring so much statesmanship just
begun! The calamity to Mr. Lincoln; in a personal point of view, so
uncalled for a fate! so undeserved, so unprovoked! The probable effect upon the
future of public men in this country, the necessity for guards;
our ways to be assimilated to those of the despotisms of the
Old World.—And so I would find my mind filled only with
images of evil and calamity, until I felt a sinking of heart hardly equalled
by that which oppressed us all when the defeat of our army at
Manassas almost crushed the Nation.
But slowly, as in
all cases of great affliction, one comes to feel that it is not all
darkness; the catastrophe is so much less, happening now, than it would have
been at any time before, since Mr. Lincoln's election. At this period after his
first inauguration; at any of the periods of great public
depression; during the pendency of the last Presidential election; at
any time before the defeat of Lee, such a calamity might
have sealed the Nation's doom. Now the march of events can't be
stayed, probably can't be much changed. It is possible that a greater
degree of severity in dealing with the Rebellion may be
ordered, and that may be for the best.
As to Mr. Lincoln's
name and fame and memory, all is safe. His firmness, moderation,
goodness of heart; his quaint humor, his perfect honesty and directness of purpose;
his logic, his modesty, his sound judgment, and great wisdom; the
contrast between his obscure beginnings and the greatness of his
subsequent position and achievements; his tragic death, giving him
almost the crown of martyrdom, elevate him to a place in history
second to none other of ancient or modern times. His success in his
great office, his hold upon the confidence and affections of his
countrymen, we shall all say are only second to Washington's; we shall
probably feel and think that they are
not second even to his.
My mountain
expedition is at an end. If I go on any more campaigning, it will be an easy
march to occupy some point on the Central Virginia Railroad — Staunton or Charlottesville.
I anticipate, however, an early call of an extra session of Congress.
In any event, I shall probably not see any more active service.
I enclose my
good-bye to my old First Brigade.* I now regard the order separating us as not
unfortunate. It must have been soon, and could not have been in a
better way.
Direct your letters to
this point — Second Brigade, First Division, Department West Virginia. — Love
to all.
* See “Life,” Vol. I, p. 269, footnote.
