Lincoln in the Bardo(12)
I believe it has.
It is secret. A bit of secret weakness, that shores me up; in shoring me up, it makes it more likely that I shall do my duty in other matters; it hastens the end of this period of weakness; it harms no one; therefore, it is not wrong, and I shall take away from here this resolve: I may return as often as I like, telling no one, accepting whatever help it may bring me, until it helps me no more.
Then Father touched his head to mine.
Dear boy, he said, I will come again. That is a promise.
willie lincoln
XXII.
After perhaps thirty minutes the unkempt man left the white stone home and stumbled away into the darkness.
Entering, I found the boy sitting in one corner.
My father, he said.
Yes, I said.
He said he will come again, he said. He promised.
I found myself immeasurably and inexplicably moved.
A miracle, I said.
the reverend everly thomas
XXIII.
At approximately one a.m. tonight per this report Pres Lincoln arrived at front gate requesting he be allowed to enter same accordingly and not knowing what else to do given his position which is President not an inconsiderable position for him to have or anyone I did allow him entry even though as you know Tom protocol states once gate locked is not to be unlocked until such time as unlocking is scheduled to wit morning but since it was Pres himself asking was a bit of a horned dilemma staring in my face and also I was somewhat groggy it being late as mentioned above and having given myself over yesterday to some fun in the park with my own children Philip Mary & Jack Jr. thereby being somewhat tired and I admit dozing a bit at your desk Tom. Did not question Pres as to what was he doing here or something like that only when our eyes met he gave me such a frank friendly somewhat pained look as if to say well friend this is rather odd I know it but with eyes so needful I could not refuse him as his boy is just today interred so you might well imagine how you or I might act or feel in a similar sad spot Tom if yr Mitchell or my Philip Mary or Jack Jr. was to expire well no use thinking of that.
Had no driver with him but had arrived alone on small horse which I was quite surprised at him being Pres and all and say his legs are quite long and his horse quite short so it appeared some sort of man-sized insect had attached itself to that poor unfortunate nag who freed of his burden stood tired and hangdog and panting as if thinking I will have quite the story to tell the other horsies upon my return if they are still awake at which time Pres requested key to Carroll crypt and accordingly I handed it over and watched him wander off across grounds wishing I’d had courtesy at least to offer him loan of lamp which he did not have one but went forth into that stygian dark like pilgrim going forward into a trackless desert Tom it was awful sad.
Tom here is the strange part he has been gone for ever so long. Is still gone as I write. Where is he Tom. Lost is he lost. Lost in there or fell and broke something lying there crying out.
Just now stepped out listened no cries.
Where is he at this time do not know Tom.
Maybe out there in woods somewhere recovering from visit indulging in solitary cry?
In watchman’s logbook, 1860–78, Oak Hill Cemetery, entry by Jack Manders, night of February 25, 1862, quoted by arrangement with Mr. Edward Sansibel.
XXIV.
It would be difficult to overstate the vivifying effect this visitation had on our community.
hans vollman
Individuals we had not seen in years walked out, crawled out, stood shyly wringing their hands in delighted incredulity.
the reverend everly thomas
Individuals we had never seen before, now made their anxious debuts.
roger bevins iii
Who knew Edenston to be a tiny man in green, wig askew? Who knew Cravwell to be a giraffe-like woman in spectacles, holding a book of light verse she had written?
hans vollman
Flattery, deference, smiles, ringing laughter, affectionate greetings were the order of the day.
roger bevins iii
Men milled about under that high February moon, complimenting each other’s suits, enacting familiar gestures: kicking at the dirt, throwing a stone, feigning a punch. Women held hands, faces upturned, calling one another lovely and dear, pausing beneath trees to exchange strange confidences withheld during many years of seclusion.
the reverend everly thomas
People were happy, that was what it was; they had recovered that notion.
hans vollman
It was the idea, the very idea, that someone— roger bevins iii
From that other place— hans vollman
That someone from that other place would deign to— roger bevins iii
It was the touching that was unusual.
the reverend everly thomas
It was not unusual for people from that previous place to be around.
hans vollman
Oh, they were around often enough.
the reverend everly thomas
With their cigars, wreaths, tears, crepe, heavy carriages, black horses stamping at the gate.
roger bevins iii
Their rumors, their discomfort, their hissing of things having nothing at all to do with us.
the reverend everly thomas
Their warm flesh, steaming breath, moist eyeballs, chafing undergarments.
roger bevins iii
Their terrible shovels laid carelessly against our trees.