Assassination, or the Closing Scene: A Tragedy of the Great Rebellion, in Five Acts (Classic Reprint)
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|Excerpt from Assassination, or the Closing Scene: A Tragedy of the Great Rebellion, in Five Acts
Enter Secretary Seward.
Lin. Ah! Good morning, Mr. Secretary.
Sew. And how is your Excellency to-day?
Lin. The march of Sherman down to the Sea;
And the problem solved by his victory;
Breaking with his right arm the shell
That held Rebellion, makes me feel well.
Sew. O, 'twas a fearful march even down to the sea.
Lin. O, Cruelty, thou art the shameless pride of war! But how does my good Secretary stand the shock, the labor and the jar of troublous affairs, at home and afar?
Lin. I am glad it is so. I need your counsel, your wisdom, now. How will the news of our victorious arms rest on the jealous hearts of European nations? Our own and the interests of England are so interwoven that surely she will not further hindrance lay. And France beholds Mexico with dismay.
Sew. "I reckon," as a Yankee should,
Napoleon stands with shivering blood;
While Maximilian's speedy fall
Will snatch the brand from the trembling hall
Where old dusky Montezumas reigned.
Lin. This be our watchword and our cry - Americans, rule thou America! The "Monroe Doctrine," in all its essential principles, is the only line of policy for us, especially when a neighboring Republic is threatened with war, - the Republic weak and the kingly power strong.
Sew. While Freedom to all climes belong.
Sweet Liberty, be thou our song.
Enter a Messenger.
Messenger. The Secretary of War desires to speak with your Excellency. He bade me say, he anxious waits.
Lin. Let him come.
Exit Messenger. Enter Stanton.
Stanton. Mr. President, I am much pleased to see you looking so cheerful to-day. But forgive my haste; I have overwhelming evidence that there is a damning plot maturing to take your life. In fact I felt most anxious for your safety, and could not rest till I saw you here. O, a fearful doom should be the just reward of the traitor heart that could conceive so foul a crime. Slay! Assassinate you? They know not what they do. Slay their friend? Consummate that, and twill be the knell, the closing infamy to slavery born. O, they can not. It must be false.
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