The præsidicide: a poem

Preface

The scene of this Poem, which ia in the form of a Monologue, is laid in a barn amidst the swamps and fens of Maryland, to which Booth made his escape after the Murder of the President. I have endeavored to make available for poetical composition the most striking events in the history of the conspiracy, down to the night when Booth and his associates set out on their errands of Murder, and in doing so, except in minor and immaterial matters, necessary for the construction of a Poem of this length, I have not deviated in my view of the Conspiracy from that taken by the Government. I have founded my idea of the character of Booth, on the descriptions of him given by those who seem to have been best acquainted with him, and who represent him as a man high in his own conceit, proud, rash, hazardous, boastful, and prone to be quarrelsome, with little care for anytjiing except the gratification of his own whims and desires.

PHILADELPHLV, March 1868.

LINE WORD READ smell ay

U

U e'en

•26 sent throuii'li

However

ODce its this nor thee of me it is swell ere.

I. Dark, dark tlie night is closing in

Fast falls tlie pelting rain, And o'er the moors terrific roars

The driving hurricane.

With every blast that comes I hear

The roar of far off seas, And on the distant fells I hear

The crash of falling trees. Deep and fast nights' mirky mantle

With tomb-like darkness falls, Yv^hile eagle unto eagle screams,

To vulture, vulture calls. The sheep within the far off fold

Haise oft a mournful cry, And oft I hear the night hawks' scream

As round and round they fly. Amidst the crashing reeling groves

I hear the croaking owl ; The ravens shriek, and far away

I hear the watch-dogs howl. Ho ! the demons of the tempest

Now ride abroad sublime — In all their wildest terrors clothed,

As in gome tropic clime. ^Sj^t

Now flash the forked lightning bolts, ^^^^

And loud the thunders boom^ The world a moments light they give.

Then tumult and dense gloom.

THE PR^S IDICID E.

There's a moment's pause, a silence

Awful, deep and dread, As though the warring elements

Were now benumbed or dead. They pause like fierce contending hosts

Upon a bloody heath, "When night has hidden shield and helm,

And spear, and sword, and sheath. And all in moody silence halt

To catch a moment's breath. Ere the columns close for aye —

In the awful grasp of death. Now comes a trembling o'er the world,

As though the teeming earth Were labouring with volcanic throes,

O'er some stupendous birth ! And lightnings flash and peal, as though

To rend earth's giant frame. And strove to make the heavens wear

A zone of gleamy flame.

The tempests shriek, the torrents roar

In headlong fury by.

Oh, there is madness on the earth,

And anger in the sky !

And there is madness in my soul,

And horror in my mind, Sorrow, Remorse and grim Despair,

All visit me combined.

For gnawing Hunger, Want and Pain,

Like coiling adders cling Round all my throbbing, vital parts,

And pierce, and tear, and sting. Despised and lone and trodden down.

Dark with the clouds of sin —

THE PR^SIDICIDE.

Savage and fierce and low and vile

Is all the soul vvithin — Nor can it e'er from grief and woe

A moments respite win.

Ah, yes, I ever more must be

As at this cursed time — A wreck cast on the shore of woe

By blasts and waves of crime ! Deep, deep each sound strikes in my soul

That booms upon my ear, As though this awful night some fiend

Would dash me down with fear. Was it a spirit of the dead,

Or but the howling storm That shakes this damp and dismal bield—

That just now touched my lorm ? I felt fingers passing through my hair,

A hand upon my brow, A breath breathe on my burning cheek, —

Aha, I feel them now !

If you are indeed a spirit

In form, and face like man — I will defy you to the last,

So do the worst you can.

Come, if you will, and do 3-our worst

While here I lie alone.

While no mortal is nigh to hear

My sad and frequent groan. Come, fiend or devil, what you are

Your terrors round me cast; Bring all hell's ghastly spectres near^

And call up all my past.

But think not while on earth I stay.

Though racked with mad despair —

THE PR^SIDICIDE.

YoTi have power to stay my thoughts, Or make me quail with fear.

II

Ho ! Ho ! what form was that I saw,

All clad in robes of white ! That just now crossed this dismal floor —

When came yoU^flash of light ? Was it indeed a human form,

Or spirit of the dead?

His stature was tall and stately,

And wide his shoulders spread, And his eyes they shone like fire,

Yet noiseless was his tread. But I have seen tliat form before.

And that bold open stare, Yea, a hundred times and more —

Just as I saw them there.

They're the features and the form

Of the noblest man on earth, More than Washington and Caesar

In glory and in worth.

As noble and as good a man,

As free from lust and crime. As ever trod this world of woe

Throuirh all the tide of time. A soul that no mean thought can touch

Through joy, or sorrow dun, More than the lightning's fearful bolt

Can strike the glowing sun. The man who never shunned a friend,

Who felt for others w e.

And ever ready to forgive

His most inveterate foe.

THE PR^SIDICIDE.

Yea, the generous and the kind,

The bounticus and the free. The open heart and hand, in joy,

Or dark adversity, The man of all mankind — least

Has ever injured me.

His like the land shall see no more,

He the wisest, noblest, best, Who stood midst the wise men of the land

King-like, high o'er the rest. He whose constant prayer was peace,

And for it strove like man — When Treason's hideous trumpet blared,

And when the war began, He who held to the rebels all

The olive branch in view, Who only sought to pardon them —

Not force the vengeance due ; Hail them with open hand and heart,

With friendship warm and true, Bid war and desolation cease,

And yet that man I slew.

III. Ah! had I died long, long ago

While in my early prime, Ah ! wherefore was I ever born

To grow so deep in crime ? Why did I ne'er fall in battle

When rushing with the brave, Or when a ship boy, in the deep

Ne'er find an early grave ? Why was I ne'er hurl'd off the mast ?

"For there I loved to go

THE PRiESIDICIDE.

When thunders bellow'd over head,

And billows roar'd below, Ay, then Td sit and sing and laugh

Till pass'd the storm away, While all the trembling crew below

Had kneel'd in fear to pray. Oh ! had I lived an humble man

Within some mountain glen ; Oh ! had I never roam'd this world

And mix'd with sinful men I ne'er had done the horrid deed

That causes all my woe.

And makes me an outcast and felon,

No matter where I go.

No matter where on earth I tread

Men will pursue my path ; And though I 'scape all human laws

I can't Grod's bui-ning wrath.

IV

Ho ! IIo ! what noise is that without,

That shakes this dismal bield ? Lo ! 'tis the deepening storm, 's death !

How dread that thunder peal'd. Ah would to God ! that yonder clouds,

That red with lightnings glow, And with their awful thunders seem

To rock the world below, Would now but bellow nearer mc.

And burst upon my head.

And all thoughts of the past drive out,

And leave me with the dead. Ah ! might one fell bolt from heaven,

Come crashing through my frame —

THE PR^SIDICIDK.

Send my spirit whirling aloft

On wings of dazzling flame. Myself I now would stay with joy,

And men forever shun; But then an angry God I'd meet,

With twice fold murder done. Oh ! could I wander forth alone

To some strange savage land — That ne'er was trod by human foot,

Or touched by human hand, Yea, thither would I fly with haste,

Though racked with mad despair, And shun all human kind for aye,

And all I once held dear, I'd hold my still communion

Day and night with God alone, And with repentance and with prayer

For all my guilt atone.

For I had sooner trust for mercy

From the all righteous God — Than unto the kindest mortal,

That e'er this world has trod. Nor could I ought of mercy crave

From any mortal man, For I have warr'd 'gainst human kind

Since first my life began. Ah yes, against my fellow kind

My hand has always striven, Till now, when e'er they breathe my name-

They quake and shudder at the same. As trees by lightning riven.

Nor shall they e'er take me living To judge me for my crime,

If but one bare chance be left me

To end my earthly time.

They ne'er shall try me for the deed By mortal code and rule,

Man deals towards man by his own laws And acts just like a fool,

And all are just aa vile as I, As much the devil's tool.

No, God alone shall he my judge, When at His throne on high,

The murder'd and the murderer Shall meet before his eye.

Ay, there Til see the man I slew, And once more view his face,

There hear my awful doom pronounced, Go to my appointed place.

Oh God ! 'tis sad to sit and think ^

On awful things like these, I

And know the soul must some day face |

The dread realities.

The soul must some day give account

Of all its deeds on earth, Yea, uncover every secret crime I

And thoughts that gave it birth. -|

Man we may cheat, but never God, 1

What He has will'd shall stand i

Through all eternity, upheld j

By His eternal hand ; And though I 'scape all human laws, ;]

And prosper here awhile, J

What mercy can I crave from God,

Would He pardon one so vile ? ■'

Ah, it seems hard the soul should mourn,

12 THE PRyESIDICIDE.

Through everlasting time — For deeds done in its earthly frame,

The body's acts of crime.

Say, has the immortal spirit —

That thing, we call man's soul, — O'er deeds and actions of his flesh,

Such vast divine control ? I If so, why do we always sin

From the hour of birth — 'Till we die and the spirit gives

The body to the earth ?

I cannot tell, but this I think,

That if the soul of man — When first unto this world it came,

And first its course began — Own'd such light and power divine,

As priests and preachers say, To keep its earthly form from sin,

And o'er it hold its sway. Myself had never sinn'd at all,

As through this life I trod, And the best of men had held

A stricter walk with God.

I've done no deed in all my life,

That had a taint of sin — But I felt deep remorse, and hoped

Forgiveness soon to win.

I never doubted from the first,

There was a God on high, And if I be by him condemn'd.

Woe takes me, when I die.

Oft I've felt a something in me,

It must have been my soul, ^

Or some unseen divine agent

That o'er me held control. Fve felt it from the paths of sin,

Warn me many a timej But flesh had greater sway, and the

Devil urged me on to crime. So when I die, my spirit goes,

My God alone knows where.

Ah ! must it mourn for all the sin.

Its mortal frame did here ? Ah ! must it linger through all time

In everlastiog woe, Though it warr'd with its wayward flesh,

While here on earth below? Will it not rise on wings of light ?

Soar back to whence it sprung, To whence be2;an its lii2;ht and life ;

No more with anguish wrung! Like the distant wandering comet

When its far course is run, That homewards turns -with light and joy

And mingles with the sun ! Yea, when it leaves its earthly home.

Rejoicing to be free Aye from sin, is it doom'd alone

To endless misery?

When it departs and leaves its ciay.

We mortals see it not, We only know, that life has gone,

And then proud man is what ? A load of useless clay, that soon

Grows hurtful to the view — And swell of all his fellow men —

Ay^, all he loved and knew. And soon in earth he's hid from sight,

1-i THE PR^SIDICIDK.

Turns to the dust we spurn, For out of dust alone "we sprung,

And to dust we shall return. And this is nature's mandate o'er us,

That none shall shun he'ow, Man from the dust of earth was form'd-

And back to dust shall go. And though Ave cover o'er our dead

With massive marble tombs, Heap rock on rock above the grave,

Till hijili to heaven it looms. Yet soon the hand of time will wear

The monument away, E'er as the mountains of the world

Waste, crumble, and decay. With time each stately monument

Shall be to ruin huri'd, The grave wear down and scatter ua

Unto the moving world.

The dead we cast into the sea,

May sink to ocean's floor, But soon the waters carry them

Unto some distant shore.

There to moulder into dust.

As all frail human things, Be scatter'd o'er creation wide

Upon the tempest wings.

VI

3uch is the end of mortals all — The coward and the brave;

Ayf, all alike must sink to dust, The peasant, king and slave.

It is man's certain destiny.

THE PRiESIDIOIDE. 15

Yet, when we look at him — f

He seems so like a god in move,

And thought and form and limb, — It seems stran^re, one so high and grand

Above all things on earth, Should carry out the blackest crimes, &

That e'er all hell gave birth. — I

Look at man, from that mind of his,

What noble thoughts can shoot, Yet he'll glory in deeds, that would

Disgrace the meanest brute. Look at him, who <;ould think but God

Made so wonderful a thing; ,;,

See the muscles, veins, nerves and bones, I

That together move and spring. f

Is this form of man — |

Of all the things, that God has placed I

On earth's diurnal span. |

Look at his orb of sio;ht and see

How wonderful 'tis form'd, How frail the veins by which it with

Life's crimson tide is warm'd ; Its arteries display the skill

Of Him, who made them so.

And bade the crimson floods send forth

New vigor as they flow.

Here, what a world of action moves

Within so small a span, None, but the everlasting God ]

So grand a thing could plan. And well his nervous system shows

How wonderful he's framed, **

It through all time, the searching world's

Astonishmftnt has claimed; When harm'd it carries swift as light

The tidings to the brain — From thence, through all his fearful form

The news is sent amain.

As lightning the intelligence

Is borne to every part, With all the system swift it blends

And lifts the throbbing heart, That heart whose valves and ventricles

So small and fragile seem, Through which forever night and day

Flows life's warm crimson stream. Look at each ganglia and see

How skilfully and grand — The veins and arteries are placed

By the Eternal hand.

And look on those frail Lacteals

That gather in the chyle, From all that passes in their range,

A strange unseemly pile, Life's nourishment they there distill

Forever and for aye, Which through glands to the thoracic duct

Forever wends its way.

Help'd by small valves unto a vain

Soon sweeps the priceless flood — Which swift within the heart is pour'd

And forms the living blood. From thence unto the yielding lungs

The dark red torrent flows. Soon cleansed and fill'd with oxygen —

Back to the heart it goes. Then it sweeps through arteries

Life-sending througli his form. Giving vigor to every part — ;

Keeping it strong and warm. I

Through arteries and capillaries |

The heart its torrent sends, |

Throughout his form, then back through veins |

The living torrent wends. ;

And as the blood is flowing on

From and backward to the heart — Both life and death are going on,

At every move and start : For cells forever grow and die

As the blood rushes through The arteries and veins, as one dies

Another forms anew, These, with all atoms of the blood

Are downward pour'd amain — To the distant renal realm •

Through many a winding drain ; And there 'tis purified, the good

Unto the heart returns, While all the foul unhealthy Dart

A spacious vault inurns.

So through some fair fertile realm

The waters sweep amain, Forever flowing on and on

Eternal and the same; Their virtues to the lands they give,

The forests bloom and grow, Fhea others come while they rush on

To some abyss below.

YIL

Tell and devils ! what thoughts arc these

18 THE PRiESIDICIDK.

For one so steep'd in crime ? One who must bear the curse of man

Until the end of time.

Hell and fiends, what strange thoughts to fill

The mind of one so low, What care I for spirit or for man

In this my hour of woe ?

What care I if his arteries,

Capillaries and veins.

Be countless as the panting streams

Of Basra's spacious plains ? What care I how the crimson tide

Throughout their winding flows ? Or for its maker's fearful skill

Each thew and sinew shows? For I have slain the noblest man

That e'er the sun beam'd on, He, who in worth and honors path

A guiding meteor shone.

Oh could I bring him back to life !

Make him breathe and speak again — I'd die ten thousand deaths and

Suffer years of woe and pain. Devil, why didst thou urge me on

To deal the mortal blow?

By God and man I now am cursed,

Thou laughs at all my woe. Could the cry of lamentation

Arouse him from his sleep, Would it set his pulse abounding

'Twere mine to wail and weep. Oh ! could I see him start to life

And walk once more on earth, Ay, move as he was ever wont

THE pK.i:L;ii>iciDi!:.

What joy to climb the cra<rgy fejls, Breathe in the wholesome air,

Look around, view those works of God So wondrous, grand and fair.

In lip;lit and joy and mirth. Oh God ! it is an awful thing

To shed life's sacred stream, To take the life God has given —

What horror more extreme ? Yet I have done the demon act,

And did it foul and fell, Done it as reckless and as stern

As fiercest fiend in hell.

VIII. Men say the smallest planets of

Creation's endless round, Are those that nearest to the sun

^ re ever to be found ; '

.d that through all revolving time

iv cling round him the while, oicing in his light and warmth

And glowing in his smile.

So it is with little children,

They nearer are to God, Than those who live to sterner years

On earth's sepulchral clod. And had I died when but a child,

A little babe just born, [ ne'er had drained sin's bitter cup,

Nor worn a crown of thorn^. ['d known no mental agony, *■

Nor felt sin's scourging rod, But as I came I had returned —

An angel to my God.

And those, methinks, that God doth call

Unto an early rest.

Are those poor children of this world

20 THK PR^SIBICTDE.

That are most truly blest. For some divine all wise design,

He sends them here below But lets their mission cease on earth

Ere they have felt its woe. As comets to the sun return,

So back again to Him Their spirits go, and form His choir

Of purest Seraphim.

Holy, holy, grand, harmonious,

Blissful, strong, sublime, Around His throne, their songs of praise

Forever, ever chime.

IX. Blow on ye winds forever blow

O'er forest, moor and main, Ay, and howl and moan like demons

In everlasting pain.

Oh had I wings to mount the storm !

And fly to some far isle.

That is unknown to man, unknown

To sun or mornings smile ! There dwell unknown to God and man

In everlasting gloom ; Unsought, forgot by both, and shun

The murderer's awful doom ; Oh ! there I'd wander forth alone

And care not where I go, For the fierce storms that there would moai

Might sometimes drown my woe. And on that gloomy isle afar

Where hurleys ever roar — Soon 'midst the storm should lie my form

In death to rise no more,

'Without a thought, without a wish, Without the power to sigh,

Ilnburied on those savafre moors This perished heart should lie.

And with my form my soul should waste- Yea perish utterly,

So that neither God nor man should E'er fina a trace of me.

X. Ah ! wherefore should I longer live

Oppress'd with woe and grief? Por no power on earth could give

My throbbing pains relief. At every weary step I take,

At every move and turn, My broken limb is racking me.

My temples throb and burn. Oh God ! I do not fear to die.

But oh ! it makes me rave, To think T — the once proud and bold —

Must fill a felon's grave. It chiils the blood in every vein

To think I — once renown'd — Should die a d'^ath of infamy,

While thousands gaze around. Ah yes ! methinks I see it now —

The gallows dark and high, Me standing 'neath the hideous drop

A felon doom'd to die.

I feel the cord round my neck

In atonement for my guilt, And hear voices shout, die felon

For blood that thou has spilt. Ay, myself I now can fancy

Within their grasp and power, ^ Starved and chain'd and prisoned down.

Within some dusky tower : And asking God to give me strength

To burst my galling chain So I might 'gainst the gloomy walls

Dash out my burning brain. Methinks I hear the laugh and shout —

And hear the tramp of men, As hangmen come to bring me forth

Out from the loathsome den. Ha ! they should see no fear in me

I'd walk with stalwart tread Upon the scaflfold, and smiling

Hold hiy:h my manly head.

And this all men should say of me

When ceased my vital breath, ^•Though dark his soul with sin and crime

'Twas face to face with death."

XI. The time that T was born, why did

Not death that instant come — With his dread all whelming power

And smite me still and dumb ? W^hy did the earth not 'neath me rend

And yawning take me in!

Since I was born, alone for woe,

And heaven I ne'er shall win ? Hark ! did I dream ? oi: did I hear

A voice speak to me then ? Just as that crash of thunder peal'd

THB PR^SIDICIDE. 2^

Throughout yon startled glen ? Methinks it said thou fool be still,

Why mutter o'er thy past?

Cease madman, cease to howl and rave,

Thy doom is coming fast.

It was no dream, for now I see

A form distinct and clear, . But 'tis only a hell born fiend

That comes to fright me here. And since it is a fiend that now

Commands me to be still, I will not cease, and all me thoughts

Shall wander as they will. I never fear'd a mortal foe,

So shall not couch to him, Though he should rack me soul and form,

Or tear me limb by limb.

Hence, on your life you mocking fiend

And jeer no more at me, Hence, fly to your accursed abode,

Where only devils be.

No shadowy fiend from hell like you—

Hath strength or power to harm A mortal man, not half so much

As a wasted cripple's arm. No, you are but va^ue empty air —

A weak and feeble form, Driven from place to place o'er earth

By every blast and storm. 'Tis on such dreadful times as these

At midniprht's murky hour — The devil sends ye forth from hellj

Think you I quail and cower Beneath your vile hideous stare ?

THE PR^SIDICIDE.

By Keaven no, hence, fly, I am mortal man, and all liell

And devils I defy.

Though you drive men onward to sin

At some unguarded time.

You mock them in their hour of woe

And jeer them for the crime. But you this head and arm I'll lend

To work your deeds no more, Stop; Ho ! back, devils why in droves

Do you now round me pour ? Ho ! away, leave me here alone.

Hark, how they laugh and roar, See how they dance around me now

And hold up human gore.

Oh God ! is it so ? or do I dream ?

Or am I going wild ?

Upright stands my hair and it seems

I tremble like a child. 'Sdeath ! huge icy drops form fast

Upon my burning brow, A chill runs all my marrow through,

All hell seems round me now. Is it only imagination ^l\^

That limns you horrid things? Are they but visions of the night

That come on fancy's wings To outcast sinful men like me ?

"When they are rack'd with woe, Ay, torn in body and in mind,

While fevers fiercest glow ! It must be that, it must be that.

At least I'll have it so.

And though I hate to view my past

My thoughts shall wander free, God has given to mortal man

A power call'd memory — And with her I will fearless back

And all ray life review, Nor Care if spectres come around

How many or how few.

Adown the vista of the past —

One sad lingering look I'll cast — Ere I sink into the grave,

^or sure this night will be the last That I on earth shall rave.

So blow ye tempests, howl and blow^ This night know no control,

And peal ye awful thunders peal, And boom from pole to pole.

Be my companions on this night — No human wretch is near,

And while 1 mutter o'er my past Make music to my ear.

XII. I remember, I remember

Though it is long ago, And yet it seems but yesterday

Time comes and passes so.

When early on one dewy morn

With rifle and with hound. To hunt and spend the day in sport —

Through mountain paths I wound. For still I've ever loved through life

To hunt o'er fell and moor, To track unto his lair the wolf,

Or meet the foamy boar.

THE PR^SIDICIDE.

The dangers of the chase I loved

Far more than aught on earth, It was my nature's drink and food

Its glory and its mirth.

What joy to climb the craggy fells,

Breathe in the wholesome air, Look around, view those works of God

So wondrous, grand and fnir. There was the place indeed for man

To lift his thoughts to God, See the works of the Almighty Hand

No matter where he trod.

And oft upon some lofty fell

Or in some silent glen, In those days I worshipped God while

Apart from other men.

Yea, like the first of human kind

Upon the grassy sod, Alone, with meek and humble mind

I send my thoughts to God. Perhaps propitious to my prayers

He ne'er inclined His ear But that I'll in the future know

When I at His throne appear. I yet have hope of mercy there,

I'll trust Him for His grace, 'Stead of all wrath and gloom, I yet

May meet His smiling face. For surely He who made this world,

And those that shine through space- Will pardon a repentant soul

Not cast it from its race.