American literature -- Periodicals; Literature -- Periodicals
Two months later came the terrible event which plunged the nation, and
especially the Booth family, into such awful sorrow. Edwin was playing
in Boston, but at once gave up his engagement and returned to his home
in New York. Numbers of the most eminent people hastened to assure him
of their sympathy and their belief in his loyalty. He had indeed been
stanch for the Union, and the only vote he ever cast was for Lincoln
in 1864. But he was overwhelmed by this fresh misfortune, this new
cloud that had settled on his house. His brother Junius and his
brother-in-law were thrown into prison in Washington, and he felt
himself an object of suspicion. I had returned to the field, and was
in Richmond when the news reached me. I wrote to him at once, but my
letter was withheld. All letters to him for awhile were kept back, and
I suppose especially any from Richmond. I could not leave my post
immediately, and it was a month or more before I reached New York,
where I went, of course, direct to him. The first shock was over, but
the old gloom was greater than ever.
He told me he had seen nothing in his brother to excite suspicion, and
I have always believed that the awful act was the result of a
disturbed brain. It was so theatrical in plan and performance; the
conspiracy, the dagger, the selection of a theatre, the brandishing of
the weapon, the cry "_Sic Semper Tyrannis_" to the audience--all was
exactly what a madman brought up in a theatre might have been expected
to conceive; a man, too, of this peculiar family, the son of Junius
Brutus Booth, used all his life to acting tragedies. He had not only
nursed me tenderly, a soldier wounded for the cause he should have
hated, but in all the exciting period of the riot he said no word that
indicated sympathy with the South. He went out daily to inquire the
news, and was indignant at the outrages he reported; he even assisted
to shield my negro servant who remained hidden in the cellar for
nearly a week. Two months before the end of the war he wished me well
when I set out to rejoin Grant.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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