The president spent much of his day preparing for the speech he was to deliver that evening. Elizabeth Keckley came to the White House to help Mary Lincoln get ready for the event. On her way to Mrs. Lincoln's room, Lizzy decided to open the door to the president's office and take a look inside, just out of curiosity. What she saw was President Lincoln sitting at his desk, engrossed in his work, not even looking up, going over the text of his speech.

At around nine o'clock, the president met with General Benjamin F. Butler. According to General Butler's account, the two of them discussed the possibility of sending freed slaves to dig a canal across the Isthmus of Panama (General Butler referred to it as the “Isthmus of Darien”), as a well as an idea of establishing a black colony there. There are many who doubt General Butler's story. Washington's Daily National Republican mentions the meeting but gives no details, only noting, “Major General Butler had an interview with the President to-day.”1

President Lincoln also issued a proclamation that closed more than thirty ports in Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas “until they shall have again been opened by order of the President.”² He also issued a second proclamation, which barred warships of any foreign country that had refused “privileges and immunities” to American warships. This proclamation ends by declaring, “the United States, whatever claim or pretense may have existed heretofore, are now, at least, entitled to claim and concede an entire and friendly equality of rights and hospitalities with all maritime nations.”

The president's point was that the American fleet had expanded and had become more powerful during the war, and that the United States was now a bona fide naval power. The US Navy was now the equal of any other naval country, including Britain. Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles agreed fully, stating, “we shall now assent our rights and, I hope, maintain them”—including against “the insolence of the petty officials of John Bull.”3

President Lincoln's main activity for the day was his much-anticipated speech, which he delivered that evening. The Marquis de Chambrun received his invitation to attend the speech on Tuesday, when “a tall colored man” appeared at his door with a bouquet of flowers and a note, both of which were from Mary Lincoln.⁴ The note informed the marquis that the president would be delivering a speech from a window in the White House, and asked if he would like to listen to his address with Mrs. Lincoln from an adjacent window. He accepted at once and spent most of the day as the guest of Mrs. Lincoln at the White House.

The city began celebrating long before the president spoke a word—the address was a true media event. Candles and lamps lit up all the public buildings in town—people commented that the Capitol dome could be seen for miles. The windows of the White House had rows of makeshift candle holders nailed in place for the occasion. Even Robert E. Lee's former home in Arlington, on the other side of the Potomac, was illuminated. The entire city was brilliantly lighted—this in an era long before electric lighting.

In spite of an “unpleasant drizzle” that continued all throughout the evening, thousands of people made their way along Pennsylvania Avenue toward the White House, which was the city's only paved street at the time.⁵ The president's appearance “drew an immense throng to the White House, which not only filled up the grounds immediately in front of the mansion, but obstructed the sidewalks of the avenue from 15th to 17th streets.”6 As soon as the president came to one of the windows, the crowd erupted with cheers and applause. From another window, Mary Lincoln was also cheered and applauded.

Very shortly after he arrived at the window, without very much in the way of preliminaries, President Lincoln began reading from his text. “We meet this evening not in sorrow, but in gladness of heart,” he began. “The evacuation of Petersburg and Richmond, and the surrender of the principal insurgent army, give hope of a righteous and speedy peace whose joyous expression can not be restrained.”⁷ The lighting was not very good, and the president was doing his best to read by the light of a candle, which he held in one hand, while he held the pages of his speech in the other hand. This very quickly proved to be a very awkward arrangement. He gestured to newspaper correspondent Noah Brooks, who was standing close by, to come to his assistance. Noah Brooks took the candle from Lincoln, which allowed the president to use both hands for his address. As he finished each page, he allowed it to fall to the floor. His son Tad picked up each page as it fell. Tad was having so much fun that he asked his father to let the pages fall faster.

The very beginning of the speech was positive and optimistic. After mentioning Petersburg and Appomattox, the president said that “a national thanksgiving” was being prepared, and followed by praising General Grant, “his skillful officers, and brave men,” as well as by a tribute to “the gallant Navy.” But following this uplifting start, President Lincoln shifted his focus to the more formal subject of reconstruction—a subject “fraught with great difficulty.”

The rest of Lincoln's speech was all about the future and “the re-inauguration of the national authority,” as he called reconstruction. His main focus was the recently established state government of Louisiana, which the president defended. Since 1862, Lincoln had been looking for a way to bring Louisiana back into the Union. The state had a good many pro-Unionists among its population; some Unionists insisted that they made up the majority. Now he was asking if the state government should be accepted as it existed, or should be rejected. “Can Louisiana be brought into proper practical relation with the Union sooner by sustaining,” he asked, “or by discarding her new State Government?”

He admitted that the Louisiana government may not have been ideal, but pointed out that its new constitution abolished slavery, and that its legislature voted to ratify the Constitutional amendment abolishing slavery throughout the country. The president added that about twelve thousand voters in Louisiana gave “the benefit of public schools equally to black and white,” and also authorized the state legislature “to confer the elective franchise upon the colored man.” He also stated that “if we reject Louisiana, we also reject one vote in favor of the proposed amendment to the national Constitution”—namely the Thirteenth Amendment, which abolished slavery. (The Thirteenth amendment was ratified in December 1865.)

From a second story window in the White House, Elizabeth Keckley watched the president as he spoke. She was impressed by the sight of President Lincoln and Tad standing close together, and thought that the two of them presented “a striking tableau.”8 But the thought also occurred to her that the president made an excellent target as he stood there, illuminated “boldly in the darkness.” It would have been a very simple matter to kill Lincoln as he stood in the window. “He could be shot from the crowd,” she reflected, “and no one be able to tell who fired the shot.”

Among the hundreds of people who stood watching the president were John Wilkes Booth and two friends. Booth had been angry and depressed ever since he had heard the news of Appomattox, and he had nothing but contempt for Abraham Lincoln. When he heard what Lincoln had to say in favor of giving the vote to “the colored man,” Booth turned and said to one of his companions, “That means nigger citizenship,” and promised that this would be the last speech that Lincoln would ever make: “Now, by God, I'll put him through.”9

The president ended his speech by explaining, “What has been said of Louisiana will apply generally to other States”—he hoped to use Louisiana as a model for other seceded states as they rejoined the Union. He concluded with, “In the present ‘situation’ as the phrase goes, it may be my duty to make some new announcement to the people of the South,” without giving any details. “I am considering, and shall not fail to act, when satisfied that action will be proper.”¹⁰

The audience cheered and applauded as the president read the main body of his speech, but not with the noise and enthusiasm they showed at the very beginning of the address. Most had been expecting a rousing victory speech. Instead, they were regaled with a long dissertation on the Louisiana legislature and reconstruction. Noah Brooks told the president that it was a fair speech, which was his way of saying that it said what the president wanted it to say but was not outstanding. The Marquis de Chambrun wrote, “It was a great event and a remarkable discourse.”¹¹ William Crook also heard the address, and commented on its “two great principles.”¹² The first was that “the mass of the Southern people shall be restored to their citizenship as soon as they desired it.” The second principle: “punishment, if punishment there be, should fall upon those who had been to be chiefly instrumental in leading the south into rebellion.” He did not even mention what the president had to say regarding giving the vote to former slaves.

The speech was printed in newspapers throughout the country, or at least throughout the North. Sometimes it was printed in its entirety, sometimes in an edited form. Nearly every report mentioned the illuminated buildings and the cheering crowds, but not every paper had a favorable opinion of what President Lincoln had to say. The New-York Tribune complained that Lincoln's address “caused great disappointment and left a painful impression.”13 The Washington Evening Star noted that the speech had been “prepared with this deliberation, evidently in order that there should be no chance for misconception,” which was a valid observation—the president worked very hard and spent a great deal of time in phrasing and polishing his address.¹⁴

After he finished delivering his speech and the crowd went home, President Lincoln tried his best to relax. Mary Lincoln and the Marquis de Chambrun walked through the White House to the president's room; Mrs. Lincoln opened the door without knocking. “There was Mr. Lincoln, stretched at full length, resting on a large sofa from his oratorical efforts.”¹⁵

As soon as Mrs. Lincoln and Chambrun entered the room, President Lincoln “rose impulsively” and shook the marquis by the hand, “which he held in his own a long time as though better to show his pleasure and affection at seeing me again,” the marquis recalled.¹⁶ The two of them talked about the speech and the “extremely moderate ideas” that Lincoln had expressed. The president also spoke about the problems that lay ahead of him because of these ideas—Radical Republicans in Congress objected to any form of leniency that might be shown toward the Confederacy, and would oppose any measures for leniency that Lincoln might propose—but still declared “his firm resolution to stand firm for clemency against all opposition.”

Chambrun and Mrs. Lincoln left the president after this conversation, and went downstairs to the parlor. A Miss Harris, described as the “daughter of one of the New York Senators,” was waiting for them.¹⁷ The three of them proceeded to have a very pleasant conversation, talking at length on a variety of subjects. “Mrs. Lincoln, full of the triumphs of the last few days, spoke with great confidence of the future and showed great satisfaction and pride in her husband's success.”