In the evening, during a talk with Messrs. Colfax and Ashman—the latter of whom presided at the Chicago Convention, in 1860—speaking about his trip to Richmond, when the suggestion was made that there was much uneasiness at the North while he was at what had been the rebel capital, for fear that some traitor might shoot him, Mr. Lincoln reportively replied, that he would have been alarmed himself, if any other person had been President and gone there, but that, as for himself, he did not feel in any danger whatever.
This possibility of an assassination had been presented before to the President’s mind, but it had not occasioned him a moment’s uneasiness. A member of his Cabinet one day said to him, “Mr. Lincoln, you are not sufficiently careful of yourself. There are bad men in Washington. Did it never occur to you that there are rebels among us who are bad enough to attempt your life?” The President stepped to a desk and drew from a pigeon-hole a package of letters. “There,” said he, “every one of these contains a threat to assassinate me. I might be nervous, if I were to dwell upon the subject, but I have come to this conclusion: there are opportunities to kill me every day of my life, if there are persons disposed to do it. It is not possible to avoid exposure to such a fate, and I shall not trouble myself about it.”
Upon the evening alluded to, while conversing upon a matter of business with Mr. Ashman, he saw that the latter was surprised at a remark which he had made, when, prompted by his well-known desire to avoid any thing offensive, he immediately said, “You did not understand me, Ashman: I did not mean what you inferred, and I will take it all back, and apologize for it.” He afterward gave Mr. A. a card, admitting himself and friend for a further conversation early in the morning.
Turning to Mr. Colfax, he said, “You are going with Mrs. Lincoln and me to the theatre, I hope.” The President and General Grant had previously accepted an invitation to be present that evening at Ford’s Theatre, but the General had been obliged to leave for the North. Mr. Lincoln did not like to entirely disappoint the audience, as the announcement had been publicly made, and had determined to fulfil his acceptance.
Mr. Colfax, however, declining on account of other engagements, Mr. Lincoln said to him, “Mr. Sumner has the gavel of the Confederate Congress, which he got at Richmond to hand to the Secretary of War. But I insisted then that he must give it to you; and you tell him for me to hand it over.” Mr. Ashman alluded to the gavel, still in his possession, which he had used at Chicago; and about half an hour after the time they had intended to leave for the theatre, the President and Mrs. Lincoln rose to depart, the former reluctant and speaking about remaining at home a half hour longer.
At the door he stopped and said, “Colfax, do not forget to tell the people in the mining regions, as you pass through them, what I told you this morning about the development when peace comes, and I will telegraph you at San Francisco.” Having shaken hands with both gentlemen and bidden them a pleasant good-bye, the President with his party left for the theatre.
The box occupied by them was on the second tier above the stage, at the right of the audience, the entrance to it being by a door from the adjoining gallery. One, who had planned Mr. Lincoln’s assassination with extraordinary precautions against any failure, having effected an entrance by deceiving the guard, found himself in a dark corridor, of which the wall made an acute angle with the door. The assassin had previously gouged a channel from the plaster and placed near by a stout piece of board, which he next inserted between the wall and the panel of the door.
Ingress then being rendered impossible, he next turned toward the entrances to the President’s box, two in number, as the box by a sliding partition could, at pleasure, be converted into two. The door at the bottom of the passage was open; that nearer the assassin was closed. Both had spring-locks, but their screws had been carefully loosened so as to yield to a slight pressure, if necessary.
Resort was had to the hither door, in which a small hole had been bored, for the purpose of securing a view of the interior of the box, the door first described having first been fastened, and the discovery made that the occupants had taken seats as follows: the President in the arm-chair nearest the audience, Mrs. Lincoln next, then, after a considerable space, a Miss Clara Harris in the corner nearest the stage, and a Major H. R. Rathbone on a lounge along the further wall.
The play was, “Our American Cousin.” While all were intent upon its representation, the report of a pistol first announced the presence of the assassin, who uttered the word “Freedom!” and advanced toward the front. The Major having discerned the murderer through the smoke, and grappled with him, the latter dropped his pistol and aimed with a knife at the breast of his antagonist, who caught the blow in the upper part of his left arm, but was unable to detain the desperado, though he immediately seized him again. The villain, however, leaped some twelve feet down upon the open stage, tangling his spur in the draped flag below the box and stumbling in his fall.