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VOICE ONE:

THE MAKING OF A NATION -- a program in Special English.

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On April ninth, eighteen sixty-five, Confederate General Robert E. Lee surrendered his army to Union General Ulysses Grant. Within weeks, America's Civil War would be over. When people in Washington learned of Lee's surrender, they hurried to the White House. They wanted to hear from President Abraham Lincoln. The crowd did not know that it would be one of his last speeches.

VOICE ONE:

The attack was so quick that the audience did not know what had happened. Then a woman shouted, "The president has been shot!"

Lincoln had fallen forward in his seat, unconscious. Someone asked if it was possible to move him to the White House. A young army doctor said no. The president's wound was terrible. He would die long before reaching the White House.

So Lincoln was moved to a house across the street from Ford's Theater. A doctor tried to remove the bullet from the president's head. He could not. Nothing could be done, except wait. The end was only hours away.

VOICE TWO:

Cabinet members began to arrive, while wild reports spread through the city: the Confederates had declared war again! There was fighting in the streets!

An official of the War Department described the situation. "The extent of the plot was unknown. From so horrible a beginning, what might come next. How far would the bloody work go. The safety of Washington must be looked after. The people must be told. The assassin and his helpers must be captured."

VOICE ONE:

Early the next morning, April fifteenth, Abraham Lincoln died. A prayer was said over his body. His eyes were closed.

The news went out by telegraph to cities and towns across the country. People read the words, but could not believe them. To millions of Americans, Abraham Lincoln's death was a personal loss. They had come to think of him as more than the President of the United States. He was a trusted friend.

People hung black cloth on their doors in sorrow. Even the south mourned for Lincoln, its former enemy. Southern General Joe Johnston said: "Mr. Lincoln was the best friend we had. His death is the worst thing that could happen for the south."

VOICE TWO:

Messages of regret came from around the world.

British labor groups said they could never forget the things Lincoln had said about working people. Things such as: "The strongest tie of human sympathy should be one uniting all working people of all nations and tongues."

A group representing hundreds of French students sent this message:

"In President Lincoln we mourn a fellow citizen. There are no longer any countries shut up in narrow frontiers. Our country is everywhere where there are neither masters nor slaves. Wherever people live in liberty or fight for it. We look to the other side of the

ocean to learn how a people which has known how to make itself free...knows how to preserve its freedom."

The assassination of Abraham Lincoln touched the imagination of America's writers. Many tried to put their feelings into words. Walt Whitman wrote several poems of mourning. Here is part of one of them, "O Captain! My Captain!"

Announcer:

Here captain! Dear father!

This arm beneath your head!

It is some dream that on the deck,

You've fallen cold and dead.

My captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will.

The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

Exult o shores, and ring o bells!

But I with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

VOICE TWO:

Abraham Lincoln was assassinated in the spring. That is the time of year when lilac plants burst into flower throughout much of the United States. One of Walt Whitman's most beautiful poems in honor of Lincoln is called, "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed." Here is part of that poem.

Announcer:

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd

And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,

I mourned, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,

Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west,

And thought of him I love. . .

Coffin that passes through lanes and streets,

Through day and night with the great cloud darkening the land. . .

With the countless torches lit,

Wiith the silent sea of faces and the unbared heads. . .

With the tolling, tolling bells' perpetual clang,

here, coffin that slowly passes,

I give you my sprig of lilac.

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VOICE TWO:

You have been listening to the Special English program, THE MAKING OF A NATION. Your narrators were Harry Monroe and Kay Gallant. The poems were read by Shep O'Neal. Our program was written by Harold Berman and Frank Beardsley.