Even as he ran, his heart beat with a strange new stroke when he recalled the look of appeal in Margaret’s dark eyes as she nestled close to his side and clung to his arm for protection. He remembered with a smile the almost resistless impulse of the moment to slip his arm around her and assure her of safety. If he had only dared!
Elsie begged Mrs. Cameron and Margaret to go home with her until the city was quiet.
“No,” said the mother. “I am not afraid. Death has no terrors for me any longer. We will not leave Ben a moment now, day or night. My soul is sick with dread3 for what this awful tragedy will mean for the South! I can’t think of my own safety. Can any one undo4 this pardon now?” she asked anxiously.
“I am sure they cannot. The name on that paper should be mightier5 dead than living.”
“Ah, but will it be? Do you know Mr. Johnson? 81 Can he control Stanton? He seemed to be more powerful than the President himself. What will that man do now with those who fall into his hands.”
“He can do nothing with your son, rest assured.”
“I wish I knew it,” said the mother wistfully.
A few moments after the President died on Saturday morning, the rain began to pour in torrents6. The flags that flew from a thousand gilt-tipped peaks in celebration of victory drooped7 to half-mast and hung weeping around their staffs. The litter of burnt fireworks, limp and crumbling8, strewed9 the streets, and the tri-coloured lanterns and balloons, hanging pathetically from their wires, began to fall to pieces.
Never in all the history of man had such a conjunction of events befallen a nation. From the heights of heaven’s rejoicing to be suddenly hurled10 to the depths of hell in piteous helpless grief! Noon to midnight without a moment between. A pall11 of voiceless horror spread its shadows over the land. Nothing short of an earthquake or the sound of the archangel’s trumpet12 could have produced the sense of helpless consternation13, the black and speechless despair. The people read their papers in tears. The morning meal was untouched. By no other single feat14 could death have carried such peculiar15 horror to every home. Around this giant figure the heartstrings of the people had been unconsciously knit. Even his political enemies had come to love him.
Above all, in just this moment he was the incarnation of the Triumphant17 union on the altar of whose life every 82 house had laid the offering of its first-born. The tragedy was stupefying—it was unthinkable—it was the mockery of Fate!
Men walked the streets of the cities, dazed with the sense of blind grief. Every note of music and rejoicing became a dirge18. All business ceased. Every wheel in every mill stopped. The roar of the great city was hushed, and Greed for a moment forgot his cunning.
The army only moved with swifter spring, tightening19 its mighty20 grip on the throat of the bleeding prostrate21 South.
As the day wore on its gloomy hours, and men began to find speech, they spoke22 to each other at first in low tones of Fate, of Life, of Death, of Immortality23, of God—and then as grief found words the measureless rage of baffled strength grew slowly to madness.
On every breeze from the North came the deep-muttered curses.
Easter Sunday dawned after the storm, clear and beautiful in a flood of glorious sunshine. The churches were thronged24 as never in their history. All had been decorated for the double celebration of Easter and the triumph of the union. The preachers had prepared sermons pitched in the highest anthem25 key of victory—victory over death and the grave of Calvary, and victory for the Nation opening a future of boundless26 glory. The churches were labyrinths27 of flowers, and around every pulpit and from every Gothic arch hung the red, white, and blue flags of the Republic.
And now, as if to mock this gorgeous pageant28, Death 83 had in the night flung a black mantle29 over every flag and wound a strangling web of crape round every Easter flower.
When the preachers faced the silent crowds before them, looking into the faces of fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and lovers whose dear ones had been slain30 in battle or died in prison pens, the tide of grief and rage rose and swept them from their feet! The Easter sermon was laid aside. Fifty thousand Christian31 ministers, stunned32 and crazed by insane passion, standing33 before the altars of God, hurled into the broken hearts before them the wildest cries of vengeance34—cries incoherent, chaotic35, unreasoning, blind in their awful fury!
The pulpits of New York and Brooklyn led in the madness.
Next morning old Stoneman read his paper with a cold smile playing about his big stern mouth, while his furrowed37 brow flushed with triumph, as again and again he exclaimed: “At last! At last!”
Even Beecher, who had just spoken his generous words at Fort Sumter, declared:
“Never while time lasts, while heaven lasts, while hell rocks and groans38, will it be forgotten that Slavery, by its minions39, slew40 him, and slaying41 him made manifest its whole nature. A man cannot be bred in its tainted42 air. I shall find saints in hell sooner than I shall find true manhood under its accursed influences. The breeding-ground of such monsters must be utterly43 and forever destroyed.”
Dr. Stephen Tyng said: 84
“The leaders of this rebellion deserve no pity from any human being. Now let them go. Some other land must be their home. Their property is justly forfeited44 to the Nation they have attempted to destroy!”
In big black-faced type stood Dr. Charles S. Robinson’s bitter words:
“This is the earliest reply which chivalry45 makes to our forbearance. Talk to me no more of the same race, of the same blood. He is no brother of mine and of no race of mine who crowns the barbarism of treason with the murder of an unarmed husband in the sight of his wife. On the villains46 who led this rebellion let justice fall swift and relentless47. Death to every traitor48 of the South! Pursue them one by one! Let every door be closed upon them and judgment49 follow swift and implacable as death!”
Dr. Theodore Cuyler exclaimed:
“This is no time to talk of leniency50 and conciliation51! I say before God, make no terms with rebellion short of extinction52. Booth wielding53 the assassin’s weapon is but the embodiment of the bowie-knife barbarism of a slaveholding oligarchy54.”
Dr. J. P. Thompson said:
“Blot every Southern State from the map. Strip every rebel of property and citizenship55, and send them into exile beggared and infamous56 outcasts.”
Bishop57 Littlejohn, in his impassioned appeal, declared:
“The deed is worthy58 of the Southern cause which was conceived in sin, brought forth59 in iniquity60, and consummated61 in crime. This murderous hand is the same hand which lashed62 the slave’s bared back, struck down New 85 England’s senator for daring to speak, lifted the torch of rebellion, slaughtered63 in cold blood its thousands, and starved our helpless prisoners. Its end is not martyrdom, but dishonour64.”
Bishop Simpson said:
“Let every man who was a member of Congress and aided this rebellion be brought to speedy punishment. Let every officer educated at public expense, who turned his sword against his country, be doomed65 to a traitor’s death!”
With the last note of this wild music lingering in the old Commoner’s soul, he sat as if dreaming, laughed cynically66, turned to the brown woman and said:
“My speeches have not been lost after all. Prepare dinner for six. My cabinet will meet here to-night.”
While the press was re?choing these sermons, gathering67 strength as they were caught and repeated in every town, village, and hamlet in the North, the funeral procession started westward68. It passed in grandeur69 through the great cities on its journey of one thousand six hundred miles to the tomb. By day, by night, by dawn, by sunlight, by twilight70, and lit by solemn torches, millions of silent men and women looked on his dead face. Around the person of this tall, lonely man, rugged71, yet full of sombre dignity and spiritual beauty, the thoughts, hopes, dreams, and ideals of the people had gathered in four years of agony and death, until they had come to feel their own hearts beat in his breast and their own life throb72 in his life. The assassin’s bullet had crashed into their own brains, and torn their souls and bodies asunder73.
The masses were swept from their moorings, and reason 86 destroyed. All historic perspective was lost. Our first assassination74, there was no precedent75 for comparison. It had been over two hundred years in the world’s history since the last murder of a great ruler, when William of Orange fell.
On the day set for the public funeral twenty million people bowed at the same hour.
When the procession reached New York the streets were lined with a million people. Not a sound could be heard save the tramp of soldiers’ feet and the muffled76 cry of the dirge. Though on every foot of earth stood a human being, the silence of the desert and of death! The Nation’s living heroes rode in that procession, and passed without a sign from the people.
Four years ago he drove down Broadway as President-elect, unnoticed and with soldiers in disguise attending him lest the mob should stone him.
To-day, at the mention of his name in the churches, the preachers’ voices in prayer wavered and broke into silence while strong men among the crowd burst into sobs77. Flags flew at half-mast from their steeples, and their bells tolled78 in grief.
Every house that flew but yesterday its banner of victory was shrouded79 in mourning. The flags and pennants80 of a thousand ships in the harbour drooped at half-mast, and from every staff in the city streamed across the sky the black mists of crape like strange meteors in the troubled heavens.
For three days every theatre, school, court, bank, shop, and mill was closed. 87
And with muttered curses men looked Southward.
Across Broadway the cortège passed under a huge transparency on which appeared the words:
“A Nation bowed in grief
Will rise in might to exterminate81
The leaders of this accursed Rebellion.”
Farther along swung the black-draped banner:
“Justice to Traitors82
is
Mercy to the People.”
Another flapped its grim message:
“The Barbarism of Slavery.
Can Barbarism go Further?”
Across the Ninth Regiment1 Armoury, in gigantic letters, were the words:
“Time for Weeping
But Vengeance is not Sleeping!”
When the procession reached Buffalo83, the house of Millard Fillmore was mobbed because the ex-President, stricken on a bed of illness, had neglected to drape his house in mourning. The procession passed to Springfield through miles of bowed heads dumb with grief. The plough stopped in the furrow36, the smith dropped his hammer, the carpenter his plane, the merchant closed his door, the clink of coin ceased, and over all hung brooding silence with low-muttered curses, fierce and incoherent. 88
No man who walked the earth ever passed to his tomb through such a storm of human tears. The pageants84 of Alexander, C?sar, and Wellington were tinsel to this. Nor did the spirit of Napoleon, the Corsican Lieutenant85 of Artillery86 who once presided over a congress of kings whom he had conquered, look down on its like even in France.
And now that its pomp was done and its memory but bitterness and ashes, but one man knew exactly what he wanted and what he meant to do. Others were stunned by the blow. But the cold eyes of the Great Commoner, leader of leaders, sparkled, and his grim lips smiled. From him not a word of praise or fawning87 sorrow for the dead. Whatever he might be, he was not a liar16: when he hated, he hated.
The drooping88 flags, the city’s black shrouds89, processions, torches, silent seas of faces and bared heads, the dirges90 and the bells, the dim-lit churches, wailing91 organs, fierce invectives from the altar, and the perfume of flowers piled in heaps by silent hearts—to all these was he heir.
And more—the fierce unwritten, unspoken, and unspeakable horrors of the war itself, its passions, its cruelties, its hideous92 crimes and sufferings, the wailing of its women, the graves of its men—all these now were his.
The new President bowed to the storm. In one breath he promised to fulfil the plans of Lincoln. In the next he, too, breathed threats of vengeance.
The edict went forth for the arrest of General Lee.
Would Grant, the Commanding General of the Army, dare protest? There were those who said that if Lee 89 were arrested and Grant’s plighted93 word at Appomattox smirched, the silent soldier would not only protest, but draw his sword, if need be, to defend his honour and the honour of the Nation. Yet—would he dare? It remained to be seen.
The jails were now packed with Southern men, taken unarmed from their homes. The old Capitol Prison was full, and every cell of every grated building in the city, and they were filling the rooms of the Capitol itself.
Margaret, hurrying from the market in the early morning with her flowers, was startled to find her mother bowed in anguish94 over a paragraph in the morning paper.
She rose and handed it to the daughter, who read:
“Dr. Richard Cameron, of South Carolina, arrived in Washington and was placed in jail last night, charged with complicity in the murder of President Lincoln. It was discovered that Jeff Davis spent the night at his home in Piedmont, under the pretence95 of needing medical attention. Beyond all doubt, Booth, the assassin, merely acted under orders from the Arch Traitor. May the gallows96 have a rich and early harvest!”
Margaret tremblingly wound her arms around her mother’s neck. No words broke the pitiful silence—only blinding tears and broken sobs.
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收听单词发音
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1
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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3
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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4
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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5
mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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6
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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7
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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9
strewed
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| v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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10
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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11
pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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12
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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13
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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15
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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16
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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17
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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18
dirge
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| n.哀乐，挽歌，庄重悲哀的乐曲 | |
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19
tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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21
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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22
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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23
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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24
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
anthem
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| n.圣歌，赞美诗，颂歌 | |
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26
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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27
labyrinths
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| 迷宫( labyrinth的名词复数 )； （文字，建筑）错综复杂的 | |
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28
pageant
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| n.壮观的游行；露天历史剧 | |
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29
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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30
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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31
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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32
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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33
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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34
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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35
chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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36
furrow
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| n.沟；垄沟；轨迹；车辙；皱纹 | |
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37
furrowed
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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39
minions
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| n.奴颜婢膝的仆从( minion的名词复数 )；走狗；宠儿；受人崇拜者 | |
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40
slew
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| v.（使）旋转；n.大量，许多 | |
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41
slaying
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| 杀戮。 | |
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42
tainted
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| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
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43
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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44
forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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46
villains
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| n.恶棍( villain的名词复数 )；罪犯；（小说、戏剧等中的）反面人物；淘气鬼 | |
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47
relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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48
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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49
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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50
leniency
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| n.宽大（不严厉） | |
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51
conciliation
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| n.调解，调停 | |
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52
extinction
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| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
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53
wielding
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的现在分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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54
oligarchy
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| n.寡头政治 | |
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55
citizenship
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| n.市民权，公民权，国民的义务(身份) | |
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56
infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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57
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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58
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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59
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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60
iniquity
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| n.邪恶；不公正 | |
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61
consummated
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| v.使结束( consummate的过去式和过去分词 )；使完美；完婚；（婚礼后的）圆房 | |
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62
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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63
slaughtered
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
dishonour
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| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
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65
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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66
cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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67
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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68
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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69
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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70
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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71
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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72
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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73
asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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assassination
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| n.暗杀；暗杀事件 | |
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precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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76
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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77
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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78
tolled
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| 鸣钟（toll的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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80
pennants
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| n.校旗( pennant的名词复数 )；锦标旗；长三角旗；信号旗 | |
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81
exterminate
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| v.扑灭，消灭，根绝 | |
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82
traitors
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| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
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83
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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84
pageants
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| n.盛装的游行( pageant的名词复数 )；穿古代服装的游行；再现历史场景的娱乐活动；盛会 | |
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85
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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86
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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87
fawning
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| adj.乞怜的，奉承的v.（尤指狗等）跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的现在分词 )；巴结；讨好 | |
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88
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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89
shrouds
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| n.裹尸布( shroud的名词复数 )；寿衣；遮蔽物；覆盖物v.隐瞒( shroud的第三人称单数 )；保密 | |
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90
dirges
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| n.挽歌( dirge的名词复数 )；忧伤的歌，哀歌 | |
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91
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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92
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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93
plighted
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| vt.保证，约定（plight的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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94
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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95
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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96
gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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