The following letter was written by William Clark (1844-1916), the son of Reed and Elizabeth (Perkins) Clark “After attending public schools, prepared for college at Pinkerton Academy,” William instead “enlisted 3 September 1864 as a private in Co. D, 1st New Hampshire Heavy Artillery” and was immediately promoted to corporal. The regiment was assigned to the defense of Washington D. C.

William was posted in Washington D. C. on the night of 14 April 1865, five days after the surrender of Lee to Grant at Appomattox, when President Abraham Lincoln was shot by John Wilkes Booth in Washington’s Ford Theater. Lincoln, of course, died early in the morning of April 15 and it was soon learned that his assassination was part of a larger plot to murder multiple key Union government officials. The assassination unleashed a torrent of mourning, anger, and retribution that was felt for years to come. After escaping from Washington, Booth was eventually cornered and killed in Virginia on 26 April, following a massive dragnet for him and his co-conspirators.

William wrote this letter on April 17th, two days after Lincoln’s death, to his sister in New Hampshire. It conveys a sense of the excitement that followed the assassination, but ends with a comment illustrating the joyous rebirth of Spring that managed to blossom in the midst of the madness, reminding us that life goes on.

[Note: This letter is from the personal collection of Richard Weiner and was transcribed and published on Spared & Shared by express consent.]

Transcription

Battery Cameron
District of Columbia
April 17th, 1865 

Dear Sister Sarah, 

I have not heard from home for nearly a week, nor received a letter or paper from anyone, but I thought I would write and let you know how we are situated. Our boys are all in picket except barely enough to guard the batteries. I am lucky enough not to be on quarter guard every other day, while the picket is not relieved at all. The picket posts are about 25 feet apart and extend around the city a distance of 145 miles. The authorities are searching all places of retreat within the lines. A great many are arrested. A man was caught by our boys last night while trying to pass the picket line on his hands and knees. He was armed with two revolvers heavily loaded. He was coming in. The guerrillas fired into the canal boat above Fort Sumner yesterday.

You cannot even imagine the state of affairs. Persons that are secession at heart have dressed their houses in mourning and people dare talk nothing but Union sentiments for fear of their lives. Several have been shot already for saying that they were glad that Lincoln was dead. I hear that Lincoln is to be buried Wednesday. I want to go to into the city but can’t go till Thursday—if I can then. We have an approved pass from Col. Long to get into the City with. There are so many guards now that a cat could scarcely pass them. I would send you a Washington paper if I could get one, but I cannot.

The boys that have been into the City say that every building on the street is draped in mourning. The Light Artillery was just in season to prevent the mob from breaking into the old Capitol Prison and murdering Gen. Lee’s son [who] is confined there. And Gen. Early is at Williard’s [Hotel] under guard, so I hear, but you must take that for what it is worth. I have just seen a column of cavalry come from Virginia across the river. I should think that there were two or more regiments of them. The New Hampshire cavalry is only 7 or 8 miles from here doing picket duty. 

The mail has just come in and I must stop writing till I see if I got a letter. No letter for me so I shall not hear from you until tomorrow at least. Can’t you or Marianna write about Wednesday so that I may have about Saturday or Sunday. I am almost sure of a letter from you on Wednesday. I get the letters you write on Sundays on Wednesday. Is Carrie Parsons at home? And Kate Dinsmore? I would write to them but am afraid to for I am so nervous that I cannot write a very plain hand. It is unnecessary to inform you that I am on guard for that is all the time I have to write. It takes me all the time that I am off guard to clean my gun and equipments. Please write soon. My very best to all. Tell them I am well. 

Your affectionate brother, — William Clark.

I never have the good luck to back (fold) a letter any other way then wrong side up, W.C.

Here are some apple blossoms; the orchards are in full bloom.