Now followed the closing scenes of the war.  The Southern armies fought bravely to the last, but all in vain.  Richmond fell.  Lincoln himself entered the city on foot, accompanied only by a few officers and a squad of sailors who had rowed him ashore from the flotilla in the James River, a negro picked up on the way serving as a guide.  Never had the world seen a more modest conqueror and a more characteristic triumphal procession, no army with banners and drums, only a throng of those who had been slaves, hastily run together, escorting the victorious chief into the capital of the vanquished foe.  We are told that they pressed around him, kissed his hands and his garments, and shouted and danced for joy, while tears ran down the President’s care-furrowed cheeks.

A few days more brought the surrender of Lee’s army, and peace was assured.  The people of the North were wild with joy.  Everywhere festive guns were booming, bells pealing, the churches ringing with thanksgivings, and jubilant multitudes thronging the thoroughfares, when suddenly the news flashed over the land that Abraham Lincoln had been murdered.  The people were stunned by the blow.  Then a wail of sorrow went up such as America had never heard before.  Thousands of Northern households grieved as if they had lost their dearest member.  Many a Southern man cried out in his heart that his people had been robbed of their best friend in their humiliation and distress, when Abraham Lincoln was struck down.  It was as if the tender affection which his countrymen bore him had inspired all nations with a common sentiment.  All civilized mankind stood mourning around the coffin of the dead President.  Many of those, here and abroad, who not long before had ridiculed and reviled him were among the first to hasten on with their flowers of eulogy, and in that universal chorus of lamentation and praise there was not a voice that did not tremble with genuine emotion.  Never since Washington’s death had there been such unanimity of judgment as to a man’s virtues and greatness; and even Washington’s death, although his name was held in greater reverence, did not touch so sympathetic a chord in the people’s hearts.

Nor can it be said that this was owing to the tragic character of Lincoln’s end.  It is true, the death of this gentlest and most merciful of rulers by the hand of a mad fanatic was well apt to exalt him beyond his merits in the estimation of those who loved him, and to make his renown the object of peculiarly tender solicitude.  But it is also true that the verdict pronounced upon him in those days has been affected little by time, and that historical inquiry has served rather to increase than to lessen the appreciation of his virtues, his abilities, his services.  Giving the fullest measure of credit to his great ministers,—­to Seward for his conduct of foreign affairs, to Chase for the management of the finances under terrible difficulties, to Stanton for the performance of his tremendous task as war secretary,—­and