Great grandfather’s memories of being called to DC to run the investigation for Stanton:
The gloom of that journey to Washington and the feeling of vague terror and sorrow with which I traversed its streets, I cannot adequately describe, and shall never forget. To this day, I never visit that City without some shadow of that dark time settling over my spirit. All the public buildings and a large portion of the private houses were heavily draped in black. The people moved about the streets with bowed heads and sorrow-stricken faces, as though some Herod had robbed each home of its first born.
When men spoke to each other in the streets, there were tremulous tones in their voices, and a quivering of the lips, as though tears and violent expression of grief were held back only by great effort. In the faces of those in authority — Cabinet ministers, officers of the army, — there was an anxious expression of the eye as though a dagger’s gleam in a strange hand was to be expected; and a pale determined expression, a set of the jaw that said: “The truth about this conspiracy shall be made clear and the assassins found and punished: we will stand guard and the Government shall not die.”
For no ruler who ever lived, I venture to say, not excepting Washington himself, was the love of the people so strong, so peculiarly personal and tender, as for Abraham Lincoln. Especially was this so among the soldiers; all members of the old army will remember with what devotion and patriotic affection the boys used to shout and sing, “We are coming, Father Abraham!” and will remember what a personal and confiding sort of relation seemed to exist between the soldier boys and “Uncle Abe”, and how those brave soldiers — veterans of four years of terrible war, inured to hardship, to sickness and wounds, familiar with the face of death — wept like little children when told that “Uncle Abe” was dead.
Yep, that looks like Teddy Roosevelt in the window.