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LINCOLN THE UNKNOWN• 209behind <strong>the</strong> door leading from <strong>the</strong> dress-circle to <strong>the</strong> boxes, sothat he could bar that entrance with a wooden plank. Afterthat Booth went to his hotel and wrote a long letter to <strong>the</strong>editor of <strong>the</strong> "National Intelligencer," justifying <strong>the</strong> plottedassassination in <strong>the</strong> name of patriotism, and declaring that posteritywould honor him. He signed it and gave it to an actor,instructing him to have it published <strong>the</strong> next day.Then he went to a livery-stable, hired a small bay mare tha<strong>the</strong> boasted could run "like a cat," and rounded up his assistantsand put <strong>the</strong>m on horses; gave Atzerodt a gun, and told him toshoot <strong>the</strong> Vice-President; and handed a pistol and knife toPowell, ordering him to murder Seward.It was Good Friday, ordinarily one of <strong>the</strong> worst nights of <strong>the</strong>year for <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>ater, but <strong>the</strong> town was thronged with officers andenlisted men eager to see <strong>the</strong> Commander-in-Chief of <strong>the</strong> Army,and <strong>the</strong> city was still jubilant, celebrating <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> war.Triumphal arches still spanned Pennsylvania Avenue, and <strong>the</strong>streets were gay with dancing torch-light processions, shoutingwith high elation to <strong>the</strong> President as he drove by that night to<strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>ater. When he arrived at Ford's <strong>the</strong> house was packedto capacity and hundreds were being turned away.The President's party entered during <strong>the</strong> middle of <strong>the</strong> firstact, at precisely twenty minutes to nine. The players paused andbowed. The brilliantly attired audience roared its welcome. Theorchestra crashed into "Hail to <strong>the</strong> Chief." <strong>Lincoln</strong> bowed hisacknowledgment, parted his coat-tails, and sat down in a walnutrocking-chair upholstered in red.On Mrs. <strong>Lincoln</strong>'s right sat her guests: Major Rathbone of<strong>the</strong> Provost-Marshal General's office and his fiancee, MissClara H. Harris, <strong>the</strong> daughter of Senator Ira Harris of NewYork, blue-bloods high enough in Washington society to meet<strong>the</strong> fastidious requirements of <strong>the</strong>ir Kentucky hostess.Laura Keene was giving her final performance of <strong>the</strong> celebratedcomedy "Our American Cousin." It was a gay and joyousoccasion; and sparkling laughter rippled back and forthacross <strong>the</strong> audience.<strong>Lincoln</strong> had taken a long drive in <strong>the</strong> afternoon, with hiswife; she remarked afterward that he had been happier that daythan she had seen him in years. Why shouldn't he be? Peace.Victory. Union. Freedom. He had talked to Mary that afternoonabout what <strong>the</strong>y would do when <strong>the</strong>y left <strong>the</strong> White House