Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 19, Number 46, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 February 1898 — THE ASSASSINATION OF LINCOLN [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE ASSASSINATION OF LINCOLN

IN connection with the celebration of Lincoln’s birthday it will not be out of place to reproduce from the New York Herald a part of the description of his assassination given by the poet, Walt Whitman, who was present in Ford’s Theater when the foul deed was done: “There is a scene in the play (‘Our American Cofisin’) representing a modern parlor, in which two unprecedented English ladies are informed by an impossible Yankee that he is not a man of fortune,, and, therefore, undesirable for marriage catching purposes; after which, the comments being finished, the dramatic trio make exit, leaving the stage clear for a moment. “At this period came the murder of Abraham Lincoln. Great as was all its manifold train circling round it, and stretching into the future for many a century, in the politics, history, art, etc., of the-New World —in point of fact the main thing, the actual murder, "transpired with the quiet and simplicity of any commonest occurrence—the bursting of. a bud or pod In the growth of vegetation, for instance. “Through the" general hum following the stage pause, with the change of position, came the muffled sound of a pistol shot, which not one-hundredth part of the audience heard at the time, and yet a moment’s hush, somehow, surely a ▼ague startled thrill, and then, through the ornamented, draperied, starred and striped space way of the President’s box, s sudden figure, a man raises himself with hands and feet' stands a moment on the railing, leaps below to the atnge, a distance of perhaps fourteen or fifteen feet, falls out of position, catching his boot heel in the copious drapery—the American flag—falls on one knee, quickly recovers himself, rises as if nothing had happened (he really sprained his ankle, but unfelt then). “And so the figure, Booth, the murderer, dressed in plain black broadcloth, bare beaded, with full glossy, raven hnir, and

his eyes like some mad animal's, flashing with light and resolution, yet with a certain strange calmness, holds aloft in one hand a large knife, walks along, not much back from the footlights, turns fully toward the audience, his face of statuesque beauty, lit by those basilisk eyes, flashing with desperation, perhaps insanity, launches out in a firm and steady voice the words, ‘Sic semper tyrannis,’ and then walks, w r ith neither slow nor very rapid pace, diagonally across to the back es the stage, and disapenrs. “A moment’s hush, a scream, the cry of murder, Mrs. Lincoln leaning out of the box with ashy cheeks and lips, with involuntary cry, pointing to the retreating figure, ‘He has killed the President!’ “And still a moment’s strange, incredulous suspense—and then the change!— then that mixture of horror, noises, uncertainty— somewhere back of a horse's hoofs clattering with speed—the people burst through chairs and railings and break them up; there is inextricable confusion and terror; women faint; quite feeble persons fall and are trampled on; many cries of agony nre heard; the broad stage suddenly fills to suffocation with a dense and motley crowd, like some horrible carnival; the audience rush generally upon it; at least the strong men do; the actors and actresses are all there in their play costumes and painted faces, with mortal fright showing through the rouge; the screams and colls, confused talk redoubled, trebled, two or three manage to pass up wafer from the stage to the President's box; others try to clamber up. “In the midst of all this the soldiers of the President’s guard, with others suddenly drawn to the scene, burst in—some 200 altogether; they storm the house, through all the tiers, especially the upper ones. Inflamed with fury, literally chnrging the audience with fiaed bayonets, muskets and pistols, shouting ‘Clear out! Clear •tit!* “Such the wild scene, or a suggestion •f It rather, iuside the plnyhouse that sight. • • * And in the midst of that pandemonium, infuriated soldiers, the audience and the crowd, the stage and all Its actors and actresses, its paint pots, spangles and gas lights, the life blood from those veins, tho best and sweetest In the land, drips slowly down, and death's ooxe already begins its little bubbles on the lips.”

night before enough had been learned to warrant the belief that our candidate had been elected. We went nearly wild with joy, and congratulated Mr. Lincoln most heartily. . Someone saw the famous “stovepipe” in the hall, and, seizing it, threw it up to the ceiling. Another caught it, and then it went the rounds till it fell to the floor, when one gave it a kick, and then another, and another gave the hat a sendoff, until it was so battered that it had lost all resemblnnce to its original shape, Mr. Lincoln looked on and smiled goodnaturedly at the childish performance.— Philadelphia Record.

BOOTH FIRES THE FATAL SHOT.