Chapter 26: The Final Weeks: Spring 1865

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Imagine, if you will, the spring of 1865.

The Civil War is finally, finally grinding towards its end,

but the man at the center, Abraham Lincoln,

well, he's profoundly changed.

Yeah, absolutely.

There's that striking comparison John Hay made, right, between Lincoln's life masks from 1860 and 1865.

Exactly.

The 1860 phase, it's described as vibrant, you know, ready to speak, to shout or laugh, just full of life.

But then you look at the 1865 mask and it's just etched with this unspeakable sadness and all sufficing strength.

You really see the weight of those four years.

It's such a powerful image of the toll.

So today, in this deep dive, we're going to explore those final, really pivotal months for Lincoln.

It's a time of just immense pressure, personally and politically.

Right.

We'll trace his journey from those maybe quieter moments of planning through the actual end of the war and then, well, ultimately to the tragedy that's mentored his legacy.

And our mission here is to really get inside how Lincoln, despite being so clearly wary, just masterfully navigated the war's end and started laying the groundwork for what was going to be a very fragile piece.

Yeah.

How he managed all that while grappling with just the most intense challenges.

We'll look at his leadership, his vision for bringing the country back together and, you know, the humanity that really defined him right up to the end.

Okay.

So let's unpack this transformation a bit more.

The war is nearly over.

The toll is obvious.

But the sources say he never lost faith in himself.

No, he didn't.

And what's fascinating is that he often seemed to be the one holding everyone else up,

gently guiding people, you know, with humor and that steady sense of purpose.

He really became the administration's anchor, didn't he?

He absolutely did.

And it wasn't just about enduring it, was it?

It feels like he actively reshaped himself as a leader during this time.

That's a great way to put it.

It showcases this remarkable evolution.

He learned from mistakes.

He rose above the jealousies of those rivals we've talked about before.

And his understanding of people and events just deepened.

He carried that tired spot, as the book calls it, something Rust couldn't fix, but he was ready, ready for the hard work ahead.

Right.

This was a deliberate transformation under pressure.

It really positioned him for the massive task of reconstruction.

And that kind of leadership, well, it demanded managing his time differently, didn't it?

He was determined to avoid those Egyptian locusts, the office seekers.

Oh, definitely.

He had a great line, didn't he?

To remove a man is very easy.

But when I go to fill his place, there are 20 applicants, and of these, I must make 19 enemies.

Huh.

A perfect political catch -22.

He knew how draining that could be.

But he did make exceptions, right?

Yes.

Two specific ones.

Artists he wanted to help them get posts abroad, like consulships.

And disabled veterans.

He felt they had paramount claims on public positions.

It shows his priorities shifting.

Less accessible, maybe, than in the early days, but focused on the huge issues.

War.

Reconstruction.

Exactly.

He understood his time was just too valuable to get bogged down in patronage like he might have been earlier.

It shows real growth in the role.

Okay.

What about his team?

Any major changes in the cabinet right at the end?

Really, only one significant one mentioned here.

Treasury Secretary Fezenden stepped down, replaced by Hugh McCulloch, a banker.

And McCulloch wasn't sure he was up to it.

Initially, yeah.

But Lincoln handled it with that typical, quiet confidence.

Just told him, I will be responsible for that, and so I reckon we will consider the matter settled.

Just like that.

He really had a way of cutting through things.

He did.

And equally significant, though maybe more personally, was the departure of his secretaries, Nicolay and Hay.

Ah, yes.

They were more than just staff, aren't they?

Much more.

Like sons, really.

Constant companions, fiercely loyal through everything.

Hay, you know, had apparently started out a bit condescending towards his self -taught boss.

Oh, really?

Yeah, but he completely came around, came to believe the hand of God put Lincoln there.

And it was Seward who helped get them those diplomatic posts in Paris.

So their leaving must have been a personal blow, removing that close support system.

Hopefully.

But amidst all this, we also get these little glimpses into the White House.

Mary Lincoln's spirits apparently lifted with the spring weather.

That's good to hear.

And young Tad was still a lively presence.

Oh, very much so.

Lincoln's little sprite, full of life and vigor.

There's that funny story about him locking the photographers out of his makeshift theater.

Right.

And only giving the key to his father.

Yeah.

But despite the mischief, he also had this surprising empathy, didn't he, for soldiers and widows.

It gives you a sense of the family dynamic and Lincoln's own tenderness.

So then came the trip to City Point.

Grant invited him.

Yes, late March.

Grant was apparently worried by reports of Lincoln looking exhausted, so he suggested Lincoln come down for a break.

But the travel plans got complicated.

A bit.

The plan was a secure gunboat, the Bat.

But then Mary decided to come along, which meant switching to the River Queen, an unarmed riverboat.

Assistant Secretary Fox was apparently quite anxious about the security risk.

Lincoln found some humor in it, though, accommodating the women folk.

Seems so.

But the trip itself was hugely important.

It was his longest break from Washington in four years.

18 days, wow.

Yeah.

And despite a scary storm on the way down, Stanton was apparently frantic back in DC.

Lincoln felt splendidly.

He really savored the rest.

Mary even noted his boyish mirth because the end of the war felt so close.

A rare moment of peace for him.

Much needed.

And when he got there, he met with Grant right away.

Grant's assessment that the war was truly nearing its end apparently left Lincoln looking particularly happy.

You can imagine the relief after four years.

But that peace didn't last long, did it?

No.

The very next morning, there was a Confederate attack on Fort Stedman.

A sharp, bloody fight.

And Lincoln went to the battlefield.

He did.

Saw the dead and wounded still there.

It clearly affected him deeply.

He remarked he'd seen enough of the horrors of war.

Stanton tried to warn him off, right?

Told him he could see just as well from further away.

Huh, yes.

Typical, cautious Stanton.

But Lincoln going there, being among the soldiers, was a huge morale boost.

Showed he wasn't afraid that he shared their risk.

That evening, around the campfire, he told Grant he'd never doubted the outcome.

Never for a moment, he said.

He also told that funny story about the Trent Affair, comparing his having to back down diplomatically to a sick man telling his enemy, look, if I get well, that old grudge still stands.

Shays his long memory, and maybe his way of dealing with setbacks.

The book also mentions an awkward moment with Mary Lincoln at a review.

Yes, briefly.

A sort of public outburst, apparently directed towards Mrs.

Ord, seemingly over a perceived slight.

It's a reminder of the stress they were both under.

And Lincoln's reaction?

Handled it with affectionate solicitude, the book says.

Just consistent patience and concern for her, even then.

It really does paint a full picture.

Okay, so amidst all this, the personal stress, the battlefield visit, came that really critical meeting.

Right, aboard the River Queen, with Grant and Sherman.

Lincoln's first question was about avoiding one last big bloody battle.

But then he got to the heart of it, his vision for peace.

Exactly.

He told them, essentially, defeat the armies, then let the Confederate soldiers just go home, back to their farms, their shops.

No one punished.

Treat them liberally, all around.

That's just remarkable, isn't it?

After such a bitter war, where did that magnanimity come from?

It seems absolutely core to his thinking about Reconstruction.

It wasn't about revenge, it was about actually rebuilding the Union.

Pragmatism mixed with, well, genuine charity.

He even wished Jefferson Davis would just disappear.

Yeah, escape the country, unbeknown to him, as he put it.

Illustrated with that story about the temperance man who wouldn't object if someone put Brandy in his lemonade without him knowing.

Ha.

So, letting Davis escape was the Brandy in the lemonade.

Sherman got it immediately.

It was about statesmanship, looking past retribution to the future.

And Sherman was deeply impressed by Lincoln after that meeting.

Deeply.

Said Lincoln had more of the elements of greatness, combined with goodness, than any other man he'd ever met.

That's quite something coming from Sherman.

Then finally, the news they'd all been waiting for, Richmond Falls.

Lincoln's relief was just immense.

Thank God that I have lived to see this, he reportedly said.

It seems to me that I have been dreaming a horrid dream for four years, and now the nightmare is gone.

Such a powerful quote, and quite a contrast to Jefferson Davis fleeing the burning city.

Absolutely.

Meanwhile,

Washington goes wild.

Delirious with joy, flags, bells, cannons.

Stanton gives his emotional speech.

Seward makes jokes.

But underneath the celebration?

A growing fear for Lincoln's safety.

A sense of foreboding, almost.

And then April 4th, Lincoln actually goes into Richmond.

The historic moment.

A dangerous one too, sailing over submerged Confederate torpedoes in the river.

But Lincoln stayed calm, even told a story.

Yeah, about humility.

Comparing a man desperate for a consul ship, eventually settling for just an old pair of trousers, still grounded even in the captured enemy capital.

And then that incredible scene with the freed slaves.

Just extraordinary.

A crowd of black laborers surrounding him shouting, Breast the Lord!

There is the great Messiah!

Kneeling down to him.

And Lincoln's response.

So telling.

His voice full of emotion, he tells them, Don't kneel to me.

You must kneel to God only, and thank him for the liberty you will hereafter enjoy.

Wow.

Don't kneel to me, kneel to God.

That captures so much about him, doesn't it?

The moral weight, the responsibility he felt.

It really does.

Then he goes to Jefferson Davis's office, just sits there, asks for a glass of water.

Simple, understated.

But he also met with John Campbell, the Confederate Assistant Secretary of War.

Yes, and proposed letting the Virginia legislature reconvene to revoke secession.

A controversial idea, clearly aimed at a quick, smooth end.

But fate takes a turn, just days later, Seward's accident.

A terrible carriage accident.

Broken jaw, other serious injuries.

And Stanton, usually so gruff, became like a nurse at his bedside, completely devoted.

Immediately got word to Lincoln.

Did that bring Lincoln back right away?

No, not immediately.

And back in Washington, his cabinet, especially Stanton and Attorney General Speed, strongly opposed that plan to let the Virginia legislature meet.

Why the opposition?

They argued it basically handed power back to the very people who started the war.

It would transfer the result of victory from the field to the very legislatures that chose war.

A fair point, you could argue.

So Lincoln backed down.

He did.

Faced with their united front, he rescinded the permission.

It shows his pragmatism, his willingness to adjust, even if it perhaps went against his most lenient instincts.

A tricky balance, definitely.

Undermining his own vision versus listening to his cabinet.

Right.

Then we get to Good Friday, April 14th, described as one of his happiest days.

And he talked about that recurring dream again, the one about the ship.

Yes, being on an indescribable vessel moving rapidly towards an indefinite shore.

He said he'd had it before major battles.

Antietam, Gettysburg, Vicksburg.

This time he felt optimistic about what it meant.

In his last cabinet meeting that day, he doubled down on leniency, didn't he?

Absolutely.

None need expect he would take any part in hanging or killing those men, even the worst of them.

He wanted to frighten them out of the country, scare them off.

He literally shook his hands like he was scaring sheep.

Huh.

And insisted, we must extinguish our resentments.

Even told Stanton to let a captured Confederate official go, comparing it to letting an elephant run when you've got it by the hind leg.

Classic Lincoln.

But just days earlier, in his last public speech, he'd floated the idea of suffrage for literate black men and black soldiers.

And that speech had consequences.

Tragic ones.

John Wilkes Booth was in the audience.

Hearing Lincoln suggest black suffrage, Booth apparently turned to his companion and said, that is the last speech he will ever make.

Chilling.

And people close to Lincoln later recalled him talking about another dream, didn't they?

Of finding a corpse in the East Room killed by an assassin.

Yes.

More tragic foreshadowing.

And then that night, the plot unfolds.

Lewis Powell's attack on Seward.

Horrific.

Brutal.

But ironically, the metal brace Seward war, because of the carriage accident, deflated the knife, probably saved his life.

Just bizarre luck.

George Atzerott, who was supposed to kill Vice President Johnson, lost his nerve, got drunk instead, never went through with it.

But at Ford's Theater.

Booth knew the place inside out, got into the presidential box during the play, our American cousin, the single shot, Major Rathbone wrestling with Booth.

And Booth leaped to the stage.

Yes, snagging his spur on the flag, breaking his leg on landing, but still shouting, six semper tyrannus, thus always to tyrants, before escaping.

Chaos.

Mary screaming, they have shot the president.

Unimaginable pandemonium.

They carry Lincoln across the street to the Peterson boarding house.

He's too tall for the bed.

And the long, terrible night vigil begins.

Mary's grief.

Why didn't he shoot me?

Just awful.

But through it all, Stanton was incredible, to charge of everything the manhunt, communications, became the dominating power.

Robert Lincoln trying to comfort his mother while dealing with his own grief.

And poor Tad.

Hearing the news and just wailing, oh, Tom Penn, Tom Penn, they have killed Papa.

It's just heartbreakingly human.

Until finally 7 to 2 a .m.

April 15th, Abraham Lincoln is gone.

And Stanton delivers that perfect, simple epitaph.

Now he belongs to the ages.

The aftermath must have been devastating.

Profound shock and grief.

Stanton was heartbroken.

Sewered, still recovering, saw the flag at half -mast and just knew,

the president is dead.

Grant felt this gloomiest apprehension, especially for the South.

Because they'd lost their best potential friend in Washington.

Exactly.

Even some Southern newspapers seemed to realize they'd lost the one man with the vision and maybe the political skill to push for a truly lenient reconstruction.

That grand review of the Army is in May.

It was meant to be a celebration of victory, right?

It was majestic, yes, a display of unity.

But as Gideon Wells wrote, Abraham Lincoln was not there.

All felt this.

His absence was palpable.

It really highlighted what was lost.

That unique ability he had to manage those rivals, to hold the nation together.

A skill needed more than ever and suddenly gone.

His legacy just instantly began to form.

Grant called him, incontestably, the greatest man I ever knew.

Walt Whitman, the grandest figure yet.

And that amazing story about Tolstoy.

Yeah, finding out about Lincoln from tribal chiefs in the Caucasus and describing him as a humanitarian, as broad as the world, bigger than his country, bigger than all the presidents together, just incredible reach.

Remember his earliest ambition, to be truly esteemed of my fellow men.

He certainly achieved that, didn't he?

In ways he could never possibly have imagined.

His leadership, his growth, his political genius, it all culminated in those final months securing him that deathless name.

He truly became the embodiment of his own second inaugural address, with malice toward none, with charity for all.

Absolutely.

So we've traced this intense, hopeful, and ultimately tragic final chapter.

A leader transformed, unwavering in his vision for unity, committed to magnanimity even as his time ran out.

And that core idea, Lincoln's empathy, even for former enemies, guiding his plans.

Well, it raises a question for us today, doesn't it?

In our own divided times, what can we learn from his determination to extinguish our resentments?

How do we find that kind of resolve to truly unify when things feel so fractured?

It's a profound question.

Maybe looking back at Lincoln's example, especially in those final days,

offers some clues.

It's certainly something worth thinking about long after this deep dive ends.

Indeed.

Thank you for joining us on this exploration of Lincoln's final chapter.

We hope you'll continue to delve into the incredible complexities of history.