It was unquestionably best that it
should be so. Lincoln himself would not have had it otherwise,
for he hated the arrogance of triumph. As it was, the South could
take no offense at a grief so genuine; and the people of that
section even shared, to a certain extent, in the mourning for one
who, in their inmost hearts, they knew to have wished them well.
Within an hour after Mr. Lincoln's body was taken to the White
House the town was shrouded in black. Not only the public
buildings, the shops, and the better class of dwellings were
draped in funeral decorations; still more touching proof of
affection was shown in the poorest class of homes, where laboring
men of both colors found means in their poverty to afford some
scanty bit of mourning. The interest and veneration of the people
still centered at the White House, where, under a tall catafalque
in the East Room the late chief lay in the majesty of death,
rather than in the modest tavern on Pennsylvania Avenue, where
the new President had his lodgings, and where the Chief Justice
administered the oath of office to him at eleven o'clock on the
morning of April 15.
It was determined that the funeral ceremonies in Washington
should be held on Wednesday, April 19, and all the churches
throughout the country were invited to join at the same time in
appropriate observances. The ceremonies in the East Room were
simple and brief, while all the pomp and circumstance that the
government could command were employed to give a fitting escort
from the Executive Mansion to the Capitol, where the body of the
President lay in state.
Pages:
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230