American Brutus

by Michael W. Kauffman

  Even the date seemed right. An assassination on April 13 would reemphasize how fate had driven Booth, and how history had guided him. Not only was it the birthday of Jefferson, but in the ancient Roman calendar it was a day of reckoning—the Ides. The symbolism was not lost on Booth. But in case anyone else should miss the point, he would script his own act in conscious imitation of the killing of Caesar. He would strike down the president in public, preferably in a theater. He would use a derringer made in a place called Northern Liberties. He would carry a dagger ornately etched with “America, Land of the Free” on its blade. He would commit the act in full view of an audience, with an accompanying message, in Latin, that would explain it all: Thus always to tyrants.

  Booth knew that in the end, the Brutus conspiracy was foiled by Marc Antony, whose famous oration made outlaws of the assassins and a martyr of Caesar. The conspirators had always considered Antony an autocrat who cast aside the law, pandered to the masses, and reveled in unprecedented powers of his own making. They wanted to kill him along with the emperor, but Brutus would not allow it. That was a mistake that Booth had no intention of repeating. Lincoln had his own Antony, and the Booth conspiracy would target him as well. He was William H. Seward.39

  For Booth, the need to kill Seward was a foregone conclusion. From his earliest days in the Senate to the present time, William Seward had consistently put himself on the opposite pole from any trend, law, or proposal favored by anyone in Booth’s circle. His “higher law” doctrine set the Border States on edge. His appeal to immigrant Catholics infuriated Know-Nothings. His “irrepressible conflict” speech accelerated the march to war. Though a founder of the Republican party, Seward was considered too extreme to bear its standard. As secretary of state, he gave himself unprecedented powers, then boasted of having them. When “Seward’s prisoners” appealed for mercy, he typically turned a deaf ear. For all his presumptions, William Seward made himself a target of Congress, the courts, and even his colleagues in the Cabinet, who considered him the most “meddlesome and intriguing” politician in memory. He was a man of insatiable ambition, and as a practical matter (though not a legal one), he was one of the few men capable of filling the power vacuum in the event of Lincoln’s death.40

  Preparations were soon under way. On Thursday morning, Lewis Powell strolled up to the Seward house and struck up a conversation with a male nurse who was having breakfast just inside the front window. Powell asked how the secretary was doing, and George F. Robinson said that his condition had improved. With a smile and a touch of the hat, Powell went on his way. Even then, he had his target in sight.

  At the same time, Booth went to Baltimore in hopes of coaxing Mike O’Laughlen back into the conspiracy. O’Laughlen may have assumed that after Lee’s surrender, Booth would have given up. But this visit dispelled all doubts. Though Booth returned to Washington without him, O’Laughlen could not rest easy knowing what kind of trouble might be heading his way. He had to talk Booth out of it.41

  Back in Washington that afternoon, Booth barged into the manager’s office at the National Theatre and interrupted a script reading. Manager C. Dwight Hess was startled by the intrusion; he had never known Booth to be so thoughtless. Booth seemed anxious to know what Hess had planned for the evening. Though he was going to illuminate, Hess said he had bigger plans for the night of the fourteenth. He was mounting a spectacular production that night to commemorate the fall of Fort Sumter exactly four years before.

  “Are you going to invite the president?” Booth asked.

  “Yes,” was the reply. Hess had always dealt with Mrs. Lincoln on such matters, and Booth’s visit reminded him to send her an invitation. 42

  MIKE O’LAUGHLEN DID NOT WANT to go to Washington alone, so he invited some friends to come along and see the illumination. They took the 3:30 train. Edward Murphy, James B. Henderson, and Bernard J. Early were more than just companions; they were witnesses who could vouch for O’Laughlen’s movements throughout the day. All were men of unquestioned loyalty—especially Henderson, who was a naval officer traveling in full uniform. Their train arrived in Washington just past five, and after taking a few drinks at Rullman’s, O’Laughlen and Early walked over to the National Hotel. Early waited in the lobby while O’Laughlen went upstairs to look for a friend.43

  JOHN WILKES BOOTH SENT Herold and Atzerodt to the Kirkwood House, where Vice President Andrew Johnson was staying. He wanted Atzerodt to ask the vice president for a pass to go to Richmond. In the meantime, he went over to Ford’s to reacquaint himself with the passageways and alleys, and he did the same at the National just in case the president should appear there. Sometime in the afternoon, he was back at Ford’s yet again, sitting in the dress circle to watch Laura Keene and company rehearse for Peggy the Actress. Though he knew the place well, it was probably helpful to plan while actually on the premises.44

  Thousands of people flooded into the city for the grand illumination. The human tide, which had been rising throughout the day, began to crest at sundown. It was a grand celebration, but not an organized one; it spread by its own momentum. At Willard’s Hotel, gas jets formed the word “Union” in a large semicircle over the roof. The Patent Office had the most ambitious display, with five thousand candles lighting up the evening sky. A few blocks to the south, crowds surged onto Pennsylvania Avenue, forming swirls of confusion at every major intersection. Over this sea of life rose the dome of the Capitol, brilliantly lit as never before. An Evening Star correspondent could only describe it in otherworldly terms: “The very heavens seemed to have come down, and the stars twinkled in a sort of faded way, as if the solar system was out of order, and each had become the great luminary.”

  Mike O’Laughlen wandered the streets that night, looking at the displays, listening to the bands, and trying desperately to be noticed with someone other than John Wilkes Booth. He and his friends needed a place to stay, and though Rullman’s was a great favorite, he didn’t think it was a good idea to go there, or anyplace associated with the plot. So after dinner he took his friends down to Sixth and Pennsylvania, and they all checked in to the Metropolitan Hotel. The clerk assigned O’Laughlen to Room 45, and his friends took an adjoining room.45

  HEROLD AND ATZERODT CAUGHT UP with Booth in Lewis Powell’s room at the Herndon House. In contrast to the drunken revelry on the street below, the mood in Room 6 was deadly serious. The laughter, the cheers, the martial music were all in celebration of Southern defeat. Now Booth was going to shut those people up. He would take away their leader.

  There was nothing elaborate about the plan. Booth would assassinate the president, and Powell would kill Secretary of State Seward. Herold and Atzerodt were to go back to the Kirkwood House and kill Vice President Johnson. The attacks would be timed to coincide, and they could all meet up afterward on the road to Nanjemoy. Powell, if he chose, could “skedaddle” in a different direction.

  All of this was news to Atzerodt, and even soaked in alcohol, his mind could see the trap he had fallen into. He was not a killer, and he had no intention of becoming one. But by now he was in too deeply, and there was nothing he could do. He voiced his objections, but Booth shrugged them off. “Then we will do it,” he said. “At least Herold has the courage. But what will become of you? You had better come along and get your horse. ”

  Those horses! Booth’s subtle reminder struck terror in Atzerodt’s heart. For six weeks he had swapped and shared animals with Booth, and had gone all over the city trying to sell them on his behalf. Every transaction had a witness, and every witness could tie him to the president’s killer. So it didn’t matter what he did now; he was already a dead man. He left the hotel and rented a horse. In a short while, he would check out of the Pennsylvania House. He had no plans to return.46

  THE LINCOLNS DID NOT SEE the illumination with General Grant. The president stayed home with a severe headache, and the general and his wife ended up joining dozens of War Department employees for a party at Secretary Stanton’s home. Four
military bands serenaded from Franklin Square, and guests gathered on the front steps for a spectacular fireworks display.

  Sgt. John C. Hatter was standing on the top doorstep when a man in a dark suit asked him if General Grant was in. “This is no occasion for you to see him,” said the sergeant. “If you wish to see him, step out on the pavement, or on the stone where the carriage stops, and you can see him.” Apparently, just getting a glimpse of the general wasn’t what the man had in mind. He stepped off to the side and seemed to reflect on something. In a moment, he was gone.

  After finishing his duties for the night, Major Kilburn Knox came over from the War Department and joined the party. The Stantons and the Grants had gone out on the steps by then to see the fireworks, and Knox took his place in front of them. He was standing there when a stranger asked, “Is Stanton in?”

  “I suppose you mean the Secretary?” asked Knox.

  “Yes,” said the man. “I am a lawyer in town. I know him very well.” Knox told the man he could not disturb Mr. Stanton. But as he said this, the stranger caught a glimpse of the secretary, and he walked over to him. He said nothing, but stood behind Stanton for a few moments, then, strangely, came back to Knox and asked once more, “Is Stanton in?”

  Knox was convinced that the man was drunk, and he refused to answer or even look at him. “Excuse me,” said the stranger. “I thought you were the officer on duty here.”

  “There is no officer on duty here,” replied the major. The man stepped back, then walked into the house, where a few minutes later, he was asked to leave.

  After the assassination, both Major Knox and Sergeant Hatter would identify that stranger as Mike O’Laughlen, and based on his odd behavior, prosecutors would charge him with attempting to kill Secretary Stanton. That was a stretch. In fact, O’Laughlen appeared to be unarmed that night, and he seemed far too nervous to carry off such a daring—not to mention suicidal—attack in the middle of a crowd. He had already separated himself from the plot by moving back to Baltimore; he had not attended the Herndon House meeting that night; and for some time, he seems to have wanted nothing more than to talk Booth out of his wild scheme. In truth, Mike O’Laughlen had no intention of killing anyone that night. It is far more likely that he stopped at Stanton’s house to warn him of Booth’s plot, but lost his nerve. He just couldn’t bring himself to implicate a friend—even one who had put his life in jeopardy.47

  SOMEWHERE IN THE CITY, John Wilkes Booth watched and waited, but never saw an opportunity to kill the president. Dejected, he went back to his room and wrote a letter to his mother.

  April 14 2 A.M.

  Dearest Mother:

  I know you expect a letter from me, and am sure you will hardly forgive me. But indeed I have nothing to write about. Everything is dull; that is, has been till last night.

  Everything was bright and splendid. More so in my eyes if it had been a display in a nobler cause.

  But so goes the world. Might makes right. I only drop you these few lines to let you know I am well, and to say I have not heard from you [lately]. Had one from Rose. With best love to you all,

  I am your affectionate son ever.

  John48

  DAVE HEROLD MISSED the celebrations entirely. Anticipating another attempt on the president, Herold had gone into Southern Maryland to wait for Booth. The weather was chilly, and after getting caught in a shower, he finally gave up. He found his way to the village of T.B., where a man named Joseph E. Huntt, who had once planned to have fresh horses ready for Booth, invited him in to spend the night. Herold slept by the stove, and was gone before the Huntts awoke the next morning.

  It was now Good Friday, April 14. Four years ago to the day, Major Robert Anderson had lowered the flag in surrender at Fort Sumter; today, General Anderson would raise the same flag in triumph. All across the North, the event was marked by music, speeches, and unchecked drunkenness.

  The conspirators awoke early that day and made ready to carry out Booth’s contingency plan from the night before. Evidently, the idea was to keep alert, then strike at the first opportunity. Lewis Powell took another stroll past Lafayette Park, and he asked again how the secretary was doing. At 7:30, George Atzerodt checked in to the Kirkwood Hotel and paid for a full day in advance. Assigned to Room 126, on the second floor, he took the key and walked out without even looking at the room.49

  O’Laughlen’s friends also rose early, but it took a good many knocks on his door to get O’Laughlen up and going. Against his better judgment, he had decided to have another talk with Booth. He told his companions that Booth owed him five hundred dollars, and he wanted to collect. So they accompanied him across Sixth Street to the National Hotel. Henderson, Early, and Murphy waited in the lobby as O’Laughlen went to Booth’s room alone. The day was wasting away, and after a while they sent a man up to Room 228 with a note. The messenger came back saying there was nobody in that room, so they all left. O’Laughlen caught up with them later.50

  Booth was gone for much of the morning, and we cannot say whether O’Laughlen actually spoke with him or not. Booth had breakfast at his hotel, then walked over to Ford’s Theatre to get his mail. Harry Ford and Tom Raybold greeted him in the front lobby, and as Raybold handed Booth a letter, Ford started in on him about the war. “Here is a man who does not like General Lee,” he told Raybold. Booth did not care to argue this time. He calmly explained that he just didn’t care for the way Lee had given up. He was getting a little defensive, and said that he was as brave a man as Lee. “Well,” said Ford, “you have not got three stars yet to show it.”

  Ford said matter-of-factly that his fortunes had just turned around. They hadn’t expected much of a house on Good Friday, but a short while ago, a messenger had come over from the White House to reserve a box. President and Mrs. Lincoln would like to attend the play, and they wanted to bring General Grant along. Booth showed no reaction. He just sat down on a step outside to read his mail.51

  Dave Herold, now back in the city, stopped at Nailor’s Stable and asked to rent a particular horse—a light roan pacing horse with black legs, mane, and tail. Herold had always found him easy to ride. John Fletcher, the stableman, said that he usually reserved that animal for the ladies, and Herold told him that as a matter of fact, a woman was going to be riding with him. He would pick up the horse at four o’clock.52

  IN AN UPSTAIRS ROOM at the White House, President Lincoln brought his Cabinet together for their weekly meeting. Everyone was there except Seward, who was represented by his son Frederick. This week’s topic was the surrender, and they would get to hear about that from General Grant himself, who was there at Lincoln’s invitation. It raised two major issues: how to normalize relations with the South, and how to deal with their past transgressions. Lincoln’s views were clear. He was in no hurry to punish Confederate leaders. In fact, he said that he should not be sorry to see them get away, but he was all in favor of watching closely to make sure they were gone.

  Someone asked if the War Department had heard anything from General Sherman, who was still battling Joe Johnston’s forces in North Carolina. Lincoln said he was sure that any news from Sherman would be favorable. He had had a strange dream the night before, in which he was on an indescribable vessel moving rapidly over the water. He didn’t know what it meant, but he took it as a good omen; he had had the same dream just before receiving news of Sumter, Bull Run, Antietam, Gettysburg, Stone’s River, Vicksburg, and Wilmington. General Grant reminded Lincoln that Stone’s River was no victory. Maybe not, said the president, but that dream came before it just the same.53

  RICHARD SMOOT CAME BACK once again for his money, but this time his reception at the Surratt boardinghouse was not so courteous. Mary Surratt rushed him out the door, assuring him that he would get the rest of his money soon. The boat was going to be used that night. Her manner was so alarming that Smoot took her advice and left the city as quickly as he could.

  Government employees were given half a day off for Good Fr
iday, and when Lou Weichmann came home at two-thirty, he found Booth in the doorway, on his way out. Mrs. Surratt didn’t say what he wanted, but she asked Weichmann to go rent a carriage from Howard’s. She needed to go back out to the country, and it was already getting late. Half an hour later, they were about to leave when Mrs. Surratt suddenly remembered a package she wanted to bring along. It was wrapped in paper, and Weichmann thought it looked like a stack of saucers.54

  REHEARSALS FOR OUR AMERICAN COUSIN had finished at Ford’s, and the stage crew prepared for the president’s visit. There were four boxes on either side of the stage, and traditionally, Harry Ford gave the two upper ones at stage left (the audience’s right) to the Lincolns. Ned Spangler, Jake Rittersback, and Peanuts Borrows unhooked the partition between them and leaned it against the back wall. They assumed that four people would be in the party, and though they didn’t know it yet, General Grant was not going to be one of them. As it turned out, Mrs. Lincoln had reserved the box before inviting him. Since she and her husband had broken their engagement with Grant the night before, she wanted to make it up by hosting a theater party for him on Friday. Thinking it best to reserve the box early, she sent a note over to Ford’s in the morning. But the president did not mention it to Grant until that afternoon, when the Cabinet meeting broke up. Grant offered his thanks, but said he just wanted to go home. By then, the Evening Star had already announced he would be there.55

  AT THE HERNDON HOUSE, Lewis Powell told Martha Murray, the manager, that he was leaving for Baltimore and intended to check out soon. He asked her to send up an early supper. Booth, meanwhile, was just behind the hotel, rehearsing his escape in Baptist Alley. Margaret Rozier, a cleaning woman from Ford’s, saw him ride a horse down from E Street, then pause, then ride out the other side, toward F. There was nothing unusual about that, except that Booth did it again a few minutes later. The second time, he came up to the back door of the theater, where Jim Maddox and Spangler soon came out to talk with him. In a few minutes, they all went to Jim Ferguson’s Greenback Saloon, next door.