Another announcement came then from the editor. “Major Robert Anderson and his party entered Fort Sumter last evening and raised the Union colors.”
Robert Anderson was the same man who’d been in command of the fort when it had been taken four years earlier. Had that news come last week or even a day ago, it would have resulted in cheers and clamorous noise. Now it seemed almost trivial.
Elise whispered to Milt, “I—I think I’d best go on home.”
“Yes, Elise. You need to be with your family.”
As she turned around, Papa was there. And Mama and her brothers—all with reddened eyes and grim faces. Like all the others, they’d come to hear more concrete news. Papa put his arms about Elise and held her close so she could release her own tears.
Later, he purchased several newspapers and gathered his family together and they drove home. As they went, they watched dark clouds begin to form. The sunshine vanished.
Papa looked up at the sky. “The light’s gone out,” he said softly. “Our light has gone out.”
The city was in mourning, the state was in mourning, the entire nation was in mourning. No one in all the land was not touched by the grim news. People felt as if they had lost a close relative or a dear, dear friend. Every house in Walnut Hills was hung with black crepe. Even houses in the poorer districts by the landing had little strips of black cloth fastened to the doorposts.
Elise felt at times as though she could not breathe, as though a vise were clamping down on her heart and soul. Sometimes she found herself weeping and was unable to stop. Each day Papa read to them from the papers. Gradually, the details of the carefully planned, premeditated murder were revealed.
“At least now,” Papa said one evening, “Mr. Lincoln’s harshest critics have been silenced. Only good will be said of him.”
“And,” Mama added, “at least now the weary man can have rest.”
A letter arrived for Papa from Secretary Salmon Chase. It was Chase who had administered the oath of office to Vice President Andrew Johnson on Saturday morning after President Lincoln died. His letter told of the weeping crowds standing about in the cold rain all day Saturday. He wrote:
On Pennsylvania Avenue in front of the Executive Mansion were hundreds of people standing weeping in the gray rain. My heart broke for the colored folks who wailed and moaned as though from the very depth of their souls. They had called him “Father Abraham,” and they loved him so dearly. Many of them are now wondering what will become of them now that their dear “father” is gone.
President Lincoln’s funeral was held in Washington, D.C., on the Wednesday after Easter. The newspapers reported that the procession was three miles long, that businesses were closed, and that everyone in the nation’s capital gathered to mourn their loss.
One evening Papa read about the route that would be taken by the train carrying the president’s body back to his home state of Illinois for burial. Papa looked at his family and said, “I would like the five of us to take the train to Springfield. I’ve wished many times that we’d gone to President Lincoln’s inauguration in March so you could have witnessed that historic occasion. I don’t want you to miss this one.”
“It says here,” Mama said, pointing at the paper, “that the train will be coming right through Columbus. That would be so much closer than going all the way to Illinois.”
Papa nodded. “I know, Louisa. But the final destination is his home in Springfield. We’ll say good-bye to him there.”
“What will become of our nation now, Papa?” Samuel asked. Both Samuel and Peter had been so quiet since the news came. Elise knew each of them had been weeping in private.
“God’s hand is upon us, Samuel. The same God in whom our president trusted—that same God will bring us through this wretched ordeal, as well. We can only trust in Him.”
It rained day after day. Verly said that God was weeping, and Elise agreed with her. Daily, the newspapers described in vivid detail the hundreds of thousands of mourners who stood in long lines in pouring rain to view the president’s body. The body lay in state first in Washington, then at New York’s City Hall. Some people waited as long as five and six hours to pay their respects to their fallen leader. The numbers were the greatest, the newspapers reported, at night, when common laborers got off work at the shops and factories.
The scene was repeated at every stop. Papa commented, “How they do heap honor on a man who claimed none.”
By reading the newspapers, the Brannons followed the progress of the funeral train westward through New York, to New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and then on toward Ohio. The train was covered with flags, bunting, and black crepe draping. One reporter said, “The outpouring of grief is more intense the farther west we travel.”
Since railroad officials were clearing other trains from the tracks so that the funeral train could progress without delay, Papa said the family would have to leave for Springfield before the funeral train arrived in Ohio.
The morning of April 29, the five Brannons, dressed in their Sunday finest, boarded the earliest train out of the Cincinnati, Dayton, & Hamilton railroad station. At any other time, Elise would have been overjoyed to be going on such a trip. Illinois was two whole states away from Ohio. And the family hadn’t taken any rides on the train since before the war started. This trip, however, would not be a holiday. It was a sad farewell.
CHAPTER 16
To Springfield
Peter, who was sitting between Mama and Papa, leaned his sleeping head against Mama’s shoulder. The rhythmic rocking of the train had lulled him to sleep. Samuel and Elise sat side by side across from them. The ride seemed very long and tedious. Elise’s hoops kept creeping up, and the stays in her new corset bit into her sides. She felt mussed and wrinkled. There’d not been a break in the clouds for ever so long. Though it was only a drizzle now, the dense cloud cover caused dusk to come early.
Samuel had been so quiet, it barely seemed like he was beside her at all. Elise knew he was grieving, but she also thought something else was on his mind, as though he was wrestling deeply with some problem.
“Mama,” Elise said, “may Samuel and I walk through the car and stand at the end for a time? A little breath of fresh air would be so delightful.”
Mama looked at Papa. “Do you think it would be all right?” Papa nodded. “I see no harm.”
Samuel seemed a little reluctant to move, but she gave him a shake. “Come on, Samuel. Let’s stretch for a few minutes.”
He got up and allowed her to lead the way down the aisle. She opened the door, and they stepped out onto the railed landing, where the brisk breeze cooled her face. Here the clattering of wheels against the tracks was noisier than inside. Samuel took off his hat, took hold of the railing, and leaned his head out as though to take a drink of the air rushing by.
“You’ve been so quiet,” Elise said. “It’s not like you to be so quiet. Is something wrong?”
He turned around and looked at her. He was so much taller now. His eyes were much like Mama’s, but they were troubled. “No one’s been talking much. Or hadn’t you noticed?”
“I’ve noticed that no one feels like talking. But there’s something more going on with you. More than the grieving for Mr. Lincoln.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
He turned around so she couldn’t see his face. “I have something I need to tell Papa. I don’t know how to tell him.” The words whipped around him.
“It wouldn’t have to do with your plans for law school, would it?” she asked.
He whirled back around. “Elise Brannon! What are you, some kind of mind reader?”
She smiled. “Who has to be a mind reader? Why don’t you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
“Papa’s counting on me, Elise. He’s been counting on me for a very long time. But now I’m going to have to disappoint him.”
“How could you ever be a disappointment t
o Papa, Samuel?”
“I’m not going to law school. I’m going to medical school. I’m going into medicine.”
“When did you finally realize the truth?”
He studied her. “Are trying to tell me you’ve known?”
She nodded. “Politics is so rough and tumble, and you’re so sensitive. I’ve always known you had a special touch.”
“I guess I’ve known it, too. Especially after setting Milt Finney’s broken leg all by myself.”
“Is that what helped you make up your mind?”
“That and talking with Uncle George. He’s offered to mentor me.”
Elise was surprised. “You mean you’ve talked with Uncle George but not with Papa?”
“I don’t know how to tell him.” “Perhaps he’s like me,” Elise said. “And how’s that?”
“He’s just sitting back, wondering when you are going to discover the truth.”
“I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”
“When we get to the hotel in Springfield, you take him aside and tell him you want to talk with him alone. Then just tell him. The sooner he knows, the more he can help you.”
Samuel considered her words. “Very well.” He brightened and stood up a little straighter. “Very well, I will. I’ll just tell him right out.”
“That’s the way Papa would want it.”
When their train made a short stop in Indianapolis late that night, the conductor spread the news that John Wilkes Booth was dead. Shot to death by his captors.
Papa shook his head. “I can’t ever remember being glad of a man’s death before. I believe this is about the closest I’ve ever come.”
Mama gently patted his arm. “Don’t fault yourself, Jack. No one can be expected to feel any differently,” she said.
Elise wondered how a man could be so heartless and cruel as to kill a kind and gentle man like President Lincoln. Life was so terribly unfair.
By the time they reached Springfield late the next day, Elise felt stiff and sore from sitting for so many long hours. A carriage at the station took them the short distance to the downtown hotel. Intermittent drizzle still dripped from the sodden skies.
Springfield was much smaller than Cincinnati, and Elise thought it not nearly as pretty. As at home, nearly every building was draped with black crepe. Evergreen arches had been created along the route where the funeral procession would pass. A large sign read WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE; WITH CHARITY FOR ALL, quoting from the president’s inaugural speech. Elise saw men wearing black armbands. Everyone was quiet and subdued.
After they were settled in their hotel room, Papa took them to eat in the hotel dining room. The hotel was crowded with guests, and the dining room was full, as well. Yet the atmosphere was quiet, almost like church.
The young man who came out from the kitchen to take their order asked, “Come to see the president?”
“Yes, we did,” Papa answered. “All the way from Cincinnati.”
The boy seemed impressed. “Cincinnati, the Queen City of the West. Well, welcome to President Lincoln’s home.”
Peter said, “My papa is a lawyer like Salmon Chase was before he became secretary of the treasury. We saw the president before he became president.”
Again the waiter seemed duly impressed, and Peter appeared proud to have had the opportunity to brag a little. “Want to read the evening news while you’re waiting?” The waiter handed them a Springfield newspaper, and Papa thanked him. “You’ve probably already heard that they killed Booth.”
Papa nodded. “We heard it last evening in Indianapolis.”
“Good enough for him, I say. I guess he thought he was going to be a hero in the South. Thought he was doing them some sort of favor.”
“The South needed President Lincoln desperately,” Papa said. “He was the best friend they had in Washington.”
“Mr. Lincoln was a forgiving man,” Elise put in. “His plan was to forgive all those who started the war and those who fought against us.”
The boy nodded. “Now we’ll never know, will we? We’ll never know how Mr. Lincoln would have put his plans for forgiveness into action. It’s a crying shame, that’s what it is. A crying shame.” The boy turned and went back to the kitchen.
Papa read to them from the paper. It told about vast numbers of people who filed by the coffin in Ohio and Indiana and how hundreds had stood out in fields in the rural areas to see the train pass by. At night, the train passed hundreds of torches and blazing bonfires lit in tribute to President Lincoln. Men stood bareheaded in the cold rain to pay their respects.
“It says here,” Papa told them, “that at journey’s end, the coffin will have traveled seventeen hundred miles and will have been seen by more than seven million people.”
“It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard of before,” Mama said, keeping her voice low. “The people loved him so.”
Papa explained that the coffin bearing the president was in Chicago at that very moment and would arrive in Springfield the next morning. “Then it will be our turn to pay our respects,” he told them.
That evening before they retired, Samuel asked Papa if he could speak to him alone. Papa said, “Of course, Samuel,” just as Elise knew he would.
The two stepped out of the room, and Mama looked at Elise.
The voices sounded low and soft out in the hallway. “What’s that about?” Mama asked.
“I believe you’ll know shortly.” Elise stepped behind the strung-up curtain and changed out of her travel clothes into her soft flannel nightgown. How good it would feel to be in a bed instead of sleeping upright in the railroad car seat.
There was a small cot for Elise, and the boys were to sleep on the floor. She crawled between the bedding and fought to stay awake until Samuel and Papa came back into the room.
When she heard the knob turning, her drooping eyelids flickered open.
“Louisa,” Papa said, “Samuel has an interesting bit of news to share with us.”
“Oh?” Mama was brushing out her long, black hair, having unfastened her chignon.
“Can I know the news, too?” Peter asked.
“You sure can,” Papa said. He sat down on the bed, pulled off his boots, and gave a sigh. “Go ahead, Samuel.”
Samuel’s face reddened a bit. “I’m not going to law school.”
Mama gave a little gasp and almost dropped her hairbrush. “Not going to law school? But that’s what you’ve always said you wanted. To work with your papa and then go into politics.”
“I guess I wanted that because all along I thought Papa wanted it.”
“But I wanted it for him because that’s what I thought he wanted,” Papa added. “Now isn’t that a fine howdy-do?”
Mama gave a little laugh. “So pray tell us, Samuel. What are your plans?”
“Can’t you guess, Mama?” Elise asked from her cot. “I can,” Peter said. “I know how well he took care of me when I hurt my ankle sledding.”
“And how he set Mr. Finney’s leg,” Elise added. “And how lovingly he’s worked with every horse we’ve ever had,” Papa said.
“I’ve always said he has that touch.” Elise felt herself sinking into a gentle sleep. “Now we’ll have two doctors in the family.”
“I can’t think of a better mentor for you than your uncle George,” Papa said.
The last thing Elise remembered was seeing Mama and Papa with their arms about Samuel, telling him how proud they were of him and how happy they were for him. Then she fell asleep.
CHAPTER 17
Good-bye, Mr. Lincoln
Will it ever stop raining?” Peter asked when he first awoke. “Will God ever stop weeping?” Mama said. As each member of the family rose, washed, and dressed, the rain slashed heavily against the windows. A quick breakfast was taken in the hotel restaurant, after which they walked together through the rain to the train station. The train was originally scheduled to arrive at six thirty, but the station manager told the waiting crowd that t
he funeral train had met with delays along the way and was running late.
As the Brannons waited, the crowd continued to swell until they felt pressed from all sides. But it wasn’t a boisterous crowd. As in the restaurant, everyone spoke in hushed tones, almost in whispers.
Papa pulled five pennies from his pocket. “I’m going to lay these on the track,” he told them. “When the wheel of the funeral train passes over them, it will flatten them. Each of us will have one as a treasure to keep through the years to remember this day. To remember this moment in history.”
“Papa,” Elise said, “would you please put a sixth penny on the track? Put one there for Verly, as well.”
Papa smiled. “That’s my Elise. Always thinking of others.”
As she watched him place the coins carefully on the shiny wet iron rail, she thought about his remark. At times in the past, she’d felt Papa was too busy and that he never noticed her. But now she felt differently. He did notice her, and she knew he cared about her very deeply.
Her legs grew tired as they waited and waited. Finally, at around nine o’clock, they heard a long, low whistle as the train approached the station. Elise was so close, she could feel the steam rolling out from the sides of the engine as it chugged into the Springfield station. Bells throughout the city began to toll, and drums from a nearby band began to roll in a soft dirge.
A large portrait of the president framed by a wreath of evergreens was placed on the pilot beams of the locomotive. Smaller daguerreotypes were mounted between the high drivers. Evergreen boughs were strewn about the locomotive, along with yards and yards of draped black crepe. Crepe-trimmed Union flags fluttered from the front cowcatcher.
As the train steamed and hissed to a stop, Papa stepped forward and picked up the six pennies. He handed one to each of them. In Elise’s palm, he placed two. She felt the warmth of the metal from having been flattened by the weight of the funeral train.
The funeral entourage got off the train, and the procession began. Men took off their hats, and everyone became silent. Solemnly, slowly, the crowd began to inch away from the station, moving down the street toward the state capitol building where Lincoln had served in the House of Representatives many years earlier.
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