realistic, but not beaten yet, Davis apologized to his beloved companion for taking her on the lifelong journey that had led to this fate. If Lee had not surrendered, he told her, or if his soldiers had been willing to come back to the fight, all might still have been well. “Had that army held together I am now confident we could have successfully executed the plan which I sketched to you and would have been to-day on the high road to independence.” Now he was struggling to decide what was best to do.
“I have sacrificed so much for the cause of the Confederacy that I can measure my ability to make any further sacrifice required, and am assured there is but one to which I am not equal, my Wife and my Children. . . . for myself it may be that our Enemy will prefer to banish me, it may be that a devoted band of Cavalry will cling to me and that I can force my way across the Missi. [Mississippi] and if nothing can be done there which it will be proper to do, then I can go to Mexico and have the world from which to choose. . . . Dear Wife this is not the fate to which I invited [you] when the future was rose-colored to us both; but I know you will bear it even better than myself and that of us two I alone will ever look back reproachfully on my past career. . . . Farewell my Dear; there may be better things in store for us than are now in view, but my love is all I have to offer and that has the value of a thing long possessed and sure not to be lost.”
In Philadelphia, Abraham Lincoln’s funeral procession left Independence Hall at 1:00 A.M. on Monday, April 24. Despite the late hour thousands of citizens from every part of the city joined the march. It took three hours, until almost 4:00 A.M. , to reach Kensington Station. Townsend kept Stanton informed: “We start for New York at 4 o’clock [ A.M. ]. No accident so far. Nothing can exceed the demonstration of affection for Mr. Lincoln. Arrangements most perfect.” The funeral train departed a few minutes later, headed for New York City.
Thousands of people lined the tracks on the journey. The train reached Jersey City, New Jersey, at 9:00 A.M. on Monday, April 24. There the presidential car was set loose from the train and rolled onto a ferryboat. At 10:00 A.M. Lincoln’s ferry landed in Manhattan and the procession to City Hall began.
In New York Lincoln’s hearse was fourteen feet long and fifteen feet wide, drawn by sixteen gray horses. Draped in black cloth with silver fringe, it had an empty “temple of liberty” on top to symbolize the nation without the president to lead it. Above the temple was a large golden eagle with outstretched wings.
City Hall had been transformed beyond recognition. Everything was draped in black cloth. Even the windows were covered with black curtains, so that the light was dim and somber. A square platform had been prepared for the coffin; an arch rose over it, with another eagle perched above a bust of Lincoln himself.
The extravagant New York City funeral hearse. On the right, City Hall is draped in mourning.
In ceremonies at Union Square, the famous speaker George Bancroft gave a long speech. “The President of the United States has fallen by the hands of an assassin,” he declared. “The wailings of the millions attend his remains as they are borne on solemn procession over our great rivers, along the seaside, beyond the mountains, across the prairie, to their final resting place. . . . Happy was his life, for he was the restorer of the Republic; he was happy in his death, for the manner of his end will plead forever for the union of the States and the freedom of man.”
New York had outdone all other cities on the funeral route so far. To anyone in the streets of Manhattan on April 24, 1865, it didn’t seem possible that any other city along the route could do anything more magnificent to honor Lincoln than what New York had done.
The coffin was closed at 11:00 A.M. on Tuesday, April 25. At 12:30
“I have sacrificed so much for the cause of the Confederacy that I can measure my ability to make any further sacrifice required, and am assured there is but one to which I am not equal, my Wife and my Children. . . . for myself it may be that our Enemy will prefer to banish me, it may be that a devoted band of Cavalry will cling to me and that I can force my way across the Missi. [Mississippi] and if nothing can be done there which it will be proper to do, then I can go to Mexico and have the world from which to choose. . . . Dear Wife this is not the fate to which I invited [you] when the future was rose-colored to us both; but I know you will bear it even better than myself and that of us two I alone will ever look back reproachfully on my past career. . . . Farewell my Dear; there may be better things in store for us than are now in view, but my love is all I have to offer and that has the value of a thing long possessed and sure not to be lost.”
In Philadelphia, Abraham Lincoln’s funeral procession left Independence Hall at 1:00 A.M. on Monday, April 24. Despite the late hour thousands of citizens from every part of the city joined the march. It took three hours, until almost 4:00 A.M. , to reach Kensington Station. Townsend kept Stanton informed: “We start for New York at 4 o’clock [ A.M. ]. No accident so far. Nothing can exceed the demonstration of affection for Mr. Lincoln. Arrangements most perfect.” The funeral train departed a few minutes later, headed for New York City.
Thousands of people lined the tracks on the journey. The train reached Jersey City, New Jersey, at 9:00 A.M. on Monday, April 24. There the presidential car was set loose from the train and rolled onto a ferryboat. At 10:00 A.M. Lincoln’s ferry landed in Manhattan and the procession to City Hall began.
In New York Lincoln’s hearse was fourteen feet long and fifteen feet wide, drawn by sixteen gray horses. Draped in black cloth with silver fringe, it had an empty “temple of liberty” on top to symbolize the nation without the president to lead it. Above the temple was a large golden eagle with outstretched wings.
City Hall had been transformed beyond recognition. Everything was draped in black cloth. Even the windows were covered with black curtains, so that the light was dim and somber. A square platform had been prepared for the coffin; an arch rose over it, with another eagle perched above a bust of Lincoln himself.
The extravagant New York City funeral hearse. On the right, City Hall is draped in mourning.
In ceremonies at Union Square, the famous speaker George Bancroft gave a long speech. “The President of the United States has fallen by the hands of an assassin,” he declared. “The wailings of the millions attend his remains as they are borne on solemn procession over our great rivers, along the seaside, beyond the mountains, across the prairie, to their final resting place. . . . Happy was his life, for he was the restorer of the Republic; he was happy in his death, for the manner of his end will plead forever for the union of the States and the freedom of man.”
New York had outdone all other cities on the funeral route so far. To anyone in the streets of Manhattan on April 24, 1865, it didn’t seem possible that any other city along the route could do anything more magnificent to honor Lincoln than what New York had done.
The coffin was closed at 11:00 A.M. on Tuesday, April 25. At 12:30
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