Bloody Crimes (19 page)

AN EARLY BROADSIDE ANNOUNCING LINCOLN’S DEATH.

Mansion’s history since it was burned by the British in the War of 1812.

Although Mary refused to bear witness, Mrs. Dixon did: “As I started to go down the stairs I met the cortege bringing up the remains of the murdered President.” Shocked by the unexpected encounter, Dixon watched as soldiers dressed in dark, Union-blue frock coats carried the flag-draped pine coffin slowly up the grand staircase.

The soldiers carried the temporary coffin into the Prince of Wales Room, also known as the Guest Room, removed the flag that draped the box, and unscrewed the lid. They lifted the body and laid it on wooden boards supported by wood trestles. They unwrapped from his corpse the bloody flag that shrouded him. At the Petersen house, his clothes—suit coat, torn shirt, pants, plus pocket contents—had
been tossed in the coffin. Somebody had forgotten his boots; they were still under Willie Clarke’s bed. His tie was also missing—somebody had already taken it. For the moment Lincoln lay naked on the improvised table, which looked like a carpenter’s bench. He had been dead for less than five hours, and his body was still cooling.

The physicians and witnesses were waiting. Present were Dr. Joseph K. Barnes, surgeon general; Dr. Charles H. Crane, assistant surgeon general; Dr. H. M. Notson, assistant surgeon; Dr. Charles S. Taft, assistant acting surgeon; Dr. Robert King Stone, the Lincolns’ family doctor; Dr. Janvier J. Woodward, assistant surgeon; and Dr. Joseph Curtis, assistant surgeon. Dr. Charles Leale had declined the invitation to watch them cut open the body of the man whose life he had tried to save. Civilian observers included Lincoln’s friend and former Illinois senator Orville Hickman Browning and Benjamin Brown French.

At 9:00
A.M
. French had left his home and headed to the White House. His carriage arrived at the gate not long after the remains had been taken inside. “I went immediately to the room where they were and saw them taken from the temporary coffin in which they had been brought here.” French did not stay for the autopsy. Instead, at somebody’s request, he went to Mary Lincoln’s room. “She was in bed, Mrs. Welles being alone with her. She was in great distress, and I remained only a moment.” He was already thinking of how the national capital should honor the dead president. “I then gave all the directions I could as to the preparations for the funeral.”

Overcome by a severe headache, French left the White House by noon and rode to Capitol Hill. “I came through the Capitol, gave directions for clothing it in mourning…and then came home.” French’s workers used shears to cut long panels of black bunting for that purpose.

S
oon after the body was laid out in the Guest Room, the doctors prepared their instruments to cut open Lincoln’s body. Dr. Curtis, the assistant surgeon, described the scene. “The room…contained but little furniture: a large, heavily curtained bed, a sofa or two, bureaus, wardrobe, and chairs comprised all there was.” He noticed that the generals and civilians in the room with him were silent or conversed quietly in whispers. He saw that at one side of the room “stretched upon a rough framework of boards covered only with sheets and towels, lay—cold and immovable—what but a few hours before was the soul of a great nation.”

He recalled the surgeon general saying that “the President showed most wonderful tenacity of life, and, had not his wound been necessarily mortal, might have survived an injury to which most men would succumb.”

Dr. Woodward would expose the brain. He reached into his medical kit for a scalpel, sliced through the skin at the back of the president’s head, and peeled the scalp forward to expose the skull. Then he

THE BULLET’S FATAL PATH.

reached for the bone saw. To get to the brain, he needed to cut off the top of Lincoln’s skull. Dr. Curtis described the procedure:

Dr. Woodward and I proceeded to open the head and remove the brain down to the track of the ball. The latter had entered a little to the left of the median line at the back of the head, had passed almost directly forwards through the center of the brain and lodged. Not finding it readily, we proceeded to remove the entire brain, when, as I was lifting the matter from the cavity of the skull, suddenly the bullet dropped out through my fingers and fell, breaking the solemn silence of the room with its clatter, into an empty basin that was standing beneath. There it lay upon the white china, a little black mass no bigger than the end of my finger—dull, motionless and harmless, yet the cause of such mighty changes in the world’s history as we may perhaps never realize.

During the autopsy, a man opened the door and walked into the room, breaking everyone’s intense concentration. Was the intruder a curiosity seeker, or, even worse, an infernal relic hunter? He was the latter, but one authorized by the highest authority. He was a messenger from the first lady.

“During the post-mortem examination,” said Dr. Taft, “Mrs. Lincoln sent him in with a request for a lock of Mr. Lincoln’s hair.” Dr. Stone clipped one from the region of the wound and dispatched it to her room. Taft wanted one too. “I extended my hand to him in mute appeal, and received a lock stained with blood, and other surgeons present also received one.”

THE BULLET THAT ENDED LINCOLN’S LIFE.

The doctors marked the bullet for
identification—Dr. Stone scratched the initials “A.L.” on it—and dropped it into a paper envelope, sealed it, and surrendered it to Secretary Stanton. It would make a prized and historic addition to the gruesome collection of wounded-tissue specimens, shattered bones, and deadly projectiles being assembled at the new U.S. Army Medical Museum. The fatal bullet from Booth’s Deringer pistol became an object of fascination not just for Dr. Curtis but for the American people. It even became the subject of a bizarre allegorical print.

This lithograph, published in Chicago within a few weeks of the assassination, depicts the bullet resting beneath a powerful magnifying glass, with an eerie, all-seeing eye peering through the lens at the figure of John Wilkes Booth—imprisoned inside the bullet! In a colossal error, the artist rendered the bullet as an elongated, conical round of the type fired by Civil War rifled muskets and not as the spherical pistol ball recovered from Lincoln’s brain. That inaccuracy does not disqualify the print as the most bizarre artwork created in the aftermath of the president’s murder.

The bullet now recovered, and the direction of its path through Lincoln’s brain confirmed, Dr. Curtis asked his superiors if he would be allowed to weigh the brain. Was it possible that an unusually large brain mass accounted for Lincoln’s genius? Curtis unpacked the scale he and Dr. Woodward had brought to the White House for this purpose. Curtis would be the first of many, over the next century and a half, to speculate on the origins of Lincoln’s greatness.

“Silently, in one corner of the room, I prepared the brain for weighing,” Curtis remembered. “As I looked at the mass of soft gray and white substance that I was carefully washing, it was impossible to realize that it was that mere clay upon whose workings, but the day before, rested the hopes of the nation. I felt more profoundly impressed than ever with the mystery of that unknown something which may be named ‘vital spark’ as well as anything else, whose absence or presence makes all the immeasurable difference between an inert mass of matter owning obedience to no laws but those governing

A BIZARRE PRINT DEPICTING BOOTH IMPRISONED INSIDE HIS OWN BULLET.

the physical and chemical forces of the universe, and on the other hand, a living brain by whose silent, subtle machinery a world may be ruled.”

Oddly, no one at the autopsy made contemporaneous notes indicating the disposition of Lincoln’s brain. Nor, as best it can be determined, did any of the doctors or witnesses ever make any oral statements regarding the fate of the brain. The Army Medical Museum would have been its natural repository. That is where the bullet, skull fragments, blood relics, instruments, probe, and more were sent. But no records survive to suggest that Lincoln’s brain or blood was placed on secret deposit there.

The reading on the scale disappointed Dr. Curtis: “The weighing of the brain…gave approximate results only, since there had been some loss of brain substance, in consequence of the wound, dur
ing the hours of life after the shooting. But the figures, as they were, seemed to show that the brain weight was not above the ordinary for a man of Lincoln’s size.”

Their work done, Drs. Curtis and Woodward stepped back from the corpse and wiped their tools clean of Lincoln’s blood, hair, flesh, brain matter, and bone chips. Their shirt cuffs exhibited the signs of their trade—blood spots and brain fluid stained the absorbent, white cotton fabric. They packed their instruments away in their medical kits and returned the bone saw, scalpels, and other devices to their proper, velvet-lined niches in the trays. They and the witnesses beheld the president’s body. It looked ghastly. The skin was pale, the jaw slack, the eyelids slightly open, the face bruised (especially in the area surrounding the right eye socket, behind which the bullet had been lodged), the scalp peeled back, the top of the skull sawn off, and the brain, now washed clean of blood and void of Booth’s profane missile, lying nearby in a basin. It was time for the embalmers to arrive. They would be responsible for repairing the damage and concealing the violations the pathologists had committed upon the president’s corpse.

Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles described what happened: “When Mr. Lincoln’s body had been removed to the President’s House, the embalmers proceeded to prepare it for the grave. Mr. Harry P. Cattell, in the employ of Doctors Brown and Alexander, who, three years before, had prepared so beautifully the body of little Willie Lincoln, now made as perpetual as art could effect the peculiar features of the late beloved President. The body was drained of its blood, and the parts necessary to remove decay were carefully withdrawn, and a chemical preparation injected, which soon hardened to a consistence of stone, giving the body the firmness and solid immobility of a statue.”

Edwin Stanton supervised the dressing of the corpse. He went through Lincoln’s wardrobe to choose the suit. Lincoln did not own an extensive collection of clothing. He was always an indifferent
dresser, as many of his photographs testify. It was an old habit from his circuit-riding days as a lawyer, when he needed to travel light. He never packed many clothes on those trips. Lincoln was the kind of man who did not replace his clothes until he wore them out.

Stanton eyed the suits. There was the one the president had worn during the day of April 14, before he changed to attend the theater. If necessary, it would do. Another good suit, tailored by Brooks Brothers, lay crumpled in the temporary wood coffin on the floor. Stanton couldn’t bury him in the suit he wore when he was shot. (A century later, this suit surfaced from obscurity and became a sensational collector’s prize.)

There was another suit in Lincoln’s closet. It was new, so the president had not had the opportunity to wear it out. This suit was one of the finest garments he had ever owned. Stanton selected it. He watched as they fitted the president with a white cotton shirt, looped the bow tie under the collar (Lincoln bought his neckties pre-tied), and dressed him in the suit. They did not put him in a coffin yet.