A door which opened
upon a porch or gallery, and also the windows, were kept open for fresh air.
The night was dark, cloudy, and damp, and about six it began to rain. I
remained in the room until then without sitting or leaving it, when, there
being a vacant chair which some one left at the foot of the bed, I occupied it
for nearly two hours, listening to the heavy groans, and witnessing the wasting
life of the good and great man who was expiring before me.
About 6 A.M. I
experienced a feeling of faintness and for the first time after entering the
room, a little past eleven, I left it and the house, and took a short walk in
the open air. It was a dark and gloomy morning, and rain set in before I
returned to the house, some fifteen minutes [later]. Large groups of people
were gathered every few rods, all anxious and solicitous. Some one or more from
each group stepped forward as I passed, to inquire into the condition of
the President, and to ask if there was no hope. Intense grief was on every
countenance when I replied that the President could survive but a short time.
The colored people especially - and there were at this time more of them,
perhaps, than of whites' — were overwhelmed with grief.
Returning to the
house, I seated myself in the back parlor, where the Attorney-General and
others had been engaged in taking evidence concerning the assassination.
Stanton, and Speed, and Usher were there, the latter asleep on the bed. There
were three or four others also in the room. While I did not feel inclined to
sleep, as many did, I was somewhat indisposed. I had been so for several days.
The excitement and bad atmosphere from the crowded rooms oppressed me
physically.
A little before
seven, I went into the room where the dying President was rapidly drawing near
the closing moments. His wife soon after made her last visit to him. The
death-struggle had begun. Robert, his son, stood with several others at the
head of the bed. He bore himself well, but on two occasions gave way to
overpowering grief and sobbed aloud, turning his head and leaning on the
shoulder of Senator Sumner. The respiration of the President became suspended
at intervals, and at last entirely ceased at twenty-two minutes past seven.
A prayer followed
from Dr. Gurley; and the Cabinet, with the exception of Mr. Seward and Mr.
McCulloch, immediately thereafter assembled in the back parlor, from which all
other persons were excluded, and there signed a letter which was prepared by
Attorney-General Speed to the Vice-President, informing him of the event, and
that the government devolved upon him.
Mr. Stanton proposed
that Mr. Speed, as the law officer, should communicate the letter to Mr.
Johnson with some other member of the Cabinet. Mr. Dennison named me. I saw
that, though all assented, it disconcerted Stanton, who had expected and
intended to be the man and to have Speed associated with him. I was disinclined
personally to disturb an obvious arrangement, and therefore named Mr. McCulloch
as the first in order after the Secretary of State.
I arranged with
Speed, with whom I rode home, for a Cabinet-meeting at twelve meridian at the
room of the Secretary of the Treasury, in order that the government should
experience no detriment, and that prompt and necessary action might be taken to
assist the new Chief Magistrate in preserving and promoting the public
tranquillity. We accordingly met at noon. Mr. Speed reported that the President
had taken the oath, which was administered by the Chief Justice, and had
expressed a desire that the affairs of the government should proceed without
interruption. Some discussion took place as to the propriety of an inaugural
address, but the general impression was that it would be inexpedient. I was
most decidedly of that opinion.
President Johnson,
who was invited to be present, deported himself admirably, and on the subject
of an inaugural said his acts would best disclose his policy. In all essentials
it would, he said, be the same as that of the late President. He desired the
members of the Cabinet to go forward with their duties without any change. Mr.
Hunter, Chief Clerk of the State Department, was designated to act ad interim as
Secretary of State. I suggested Mr. Speed, but I saw it was not acceptable in
certain quarters. Stanton especially expressed a hope that Hunter should be
assigned to the duty.
A room for the
President as an office was proposed until he could occupy the Executive
Mansion, and Mr. McCulloch offered the room adjoining his own in the Treasury
Building. I named the State Department as appropriate and proper, at least
until the Secretary of State recovered, or so long as the President wished, but
objections arose at once. The papers of Mr. Seward would, Stanton said, be
disturbed; it would be better he should be here, etc., etc. Stanton, I saw, had
a purpose; among other things, feared papers would fall under Mr. Johnson's eye
which he did not wish to be seen.
On returning to my
house this morning, Saturday, I found Mrs. Welles, who had been ill and
confined to the house from indisposition for a week, had been twice sent for by
Mrs. Lincoln to come to her at Peterson's. The housekeeper, knowing the state
of Mrs. W.'s health, had without consultation turned away the messenger, Major
French, but Mrs. Welles, on learning the facts when he came the second time,
had yielded, and imprudently gone, although the weather was inclement. She
remained at the Executive Mansion through the day. For myself, wearied,
shocked, exhausted, but not inclined to sleep, the day, when not actually and
officially engaged, passed off strangely.
I went after
breakfast to the Executive Mansion. There was a cheerless cold rain and
everything seemed gloomy. On the Avenue in front of the White House were
several hundred colored people, mostly women and children, weeping and wailing
their loss. This crowd did not appear to diminish through the whole of that
cold, wet day; they seemed not to know what was to be their fate since their
great benefactor was dead, and their hopeless grief affected me more than
almost anything else, though strong and brave men wept when I met them.
At the White House all
was silent and sad. Mrs. W. was with Mrs. L. and came to meet me in the
library. Speed came in, and we soon left together. As we were descending the
stairs, “Tad," who was looking from the window at the foot, turned and,
seeing us, cried aloud in his tears, “Oh, Mr. Welles, who killed my father?”
Neither Speed nor myself could restrain our tears, nor give the poor boy any
satisfactory answer.
