Now he belongs to the ages

There is much debate if these were the words spoken by Secretary of War Edwin Staton at the moment of Lincoln's death, or if he said "Now he belongs to the angels". Either way, he was right. The weight of the world that Lincoln had carried on his shoulders had finally been lifted, but the only way to get rid of it was to lose his life. That weight now burdened every man in the room at 7:22 AM.

Vice President Andrew Johnson, whom many viewed as a threat to the peace Lincoln worked for because he was from a southern but loyal state, was an inadequate replacement at best. Often he was believed to be a drunk, and the late President himself had only met officially with Johnson twice in their term in office (the second having been earlier on April 14th, prior to Lincoln going to Ford's Theater!)
Some even believed that perhaps Johnson was involved in the assassination.

People's heads were swirrling around, especially with the news of the attempted assassination of Secretary of State Seward who would survive. The presidency was not like modern times, and the Vice President was more of figure of honor than an active office, even though they were a heartbeat away from becoming president, so this was not unusual.

Thank goodness Stanton had his wits about him, as he basically ran the US while Johnson was being sworn in and beginning to adjust to his new responsibility. It was Stanton who started the manhunt to flush out and capture any and all involved with the late President's assassination.

Poor Mary Lincoln, who was emotionally very fragile, felt like she had finally regained her husband, only to have him so violently taken from her, beside her, before her eyes. The Lincoln family seemed cursed. Abraham had forseen it somehow. He had many dreams and was haunted by much in life. This mental toughness is likely what made him able to guide our country through the most turbulant days since the Revolution.

His untimely death -- murder, made him a martyr; just like Jesus Christ, he was struck down on Good Friday and on Easter Sunday, would share the pulpit. Suddenly, the attrocity of murdering a man that was finally succeeding struck a nerve with many, including southerners. The wave of emotion swept over the people, wiping away ill feelings and replacing the man with the legend. The rail-splitter, the emancipator, the martyr.

This would drive Booth crazy for his weeks on the lam. Didn't everyone see wht he did? He freed them from tyranny! But he failed to realize that human nature is peaceful. Both sides wanted the war to end somehow. The world would never be the same already, they knew that, it was just how to stop the war machine. Many felt like Lincoln was the one doing it and now he was sensessly removed from the equation by a coward who shot him in the back of the head during a private moment. Now Booth was the monster, not Lincoln. The plan had backfired.

Lincoln' body was removed from the Petersen house later in the afternoon and taken to have (an obvious) autopsy conducted by the Surgeon General. Immediately after his body was removed, someone photographed the bed and room in which he died. There weren't color photos back then, which is probably good so people wouldn't see the crimson red soaked pillow on which his head laid. The photograph preserved a moment in time; a true snapshot.

This is what history is. The examination of one or many snapshots, how they interlink with each other, and how they created the moment we are now in and help us understand what our choices before us will do.

For Lincoln, he left his imprint on not only America, but the world. Don't believe it? Type in "Lincoln Funeral" on Google under images and look for yourself. The room was empty in the Petersen house, but the hearts and minds of the people from 1865 though now have the snapshot burned in their collective memories forever.