VOL. IX. - No. 435.]
NEW YORK, SATURDAY, APRIL 29, 1865.
SINGLE COPIES TEN CENTS. [$4,00 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1865, by Harper & Brothers, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York.
The play for the evening was The American Cousin.
BOOTH came upon his errand at about 10 o'clock. He left his horse in charge at the rear of the theatre, and made his way to the President's box. This box is a double one, in the second tier at the left of the stage. When occupied by the Presidential party the separating partition is removed, and the two boxes are thus thrown into one. We give an accurate plan of the box on page 259.—According to Major RATHBONE'S statement, the assassin must have made his preparations in the most deliberate manner beforehand. Of this fact there are at least four proofs, as we shall see: Stealthily approaching the dark passageway leading to the box, BOOTH, after having effected an entrance, closed the hall door, and then, taking a piece of board which he had prepared for the occasion, placed one end of it in an indentation excavated in the wall, about four feet from the floor, and the
other against the moulding of the door-panel a few inches higher. He thus made it impossible for any one to enter from without; and securing himself against intrusion in that direction, he proceeded to the doors of the box. There were two of those. Here also the villain had carefully provided before hand the means by which he might, unnoticed himself, observe the position of the parties inside. With a gimlet, or small bit, he had bored a hole in the door-panel, which he afterward reamed out with his knife, so as to leave it a little larger than a buck-shot on the inside, while on the other side it was sufficiently large to give his eye a wide range. To secure against the doors being locked (they both had spring-locks), he had loosened the screws with (Continued next page)
HARPER'S WEEKLY.
[APRIL 29, 1865.
258
(Previous Page) which the bolt-hasps were fastened. In regard to the next stage of BOOTH'S movements there is some degree of uncertainty. He had been noticed as he passed through the dress-circle by a Mr. FERGUSON, who was sitting on the opposite side of the theatre. This man knew BOOTH, and recognized him. He had been talking with him a short time before. FERGUSON states that when BOOTH reached the door of the corridor leading from the dress-circle to the boxes he halted, " took off his hat, and, holding it in his left hand, leaned against the wall behind him." After remaining thus for the space of half a minute, " he stepped down one step, put his hand on the door of the little corridor leading to the box, bent his knee against it," when the door opened and BOOTH entered. After his entrance to the corridor he was of course invisible to FERGUSON, and, before the fatal shot, was probably seen by no one but the sentry at the door of the corridor. The latter he is said to have passed on the plea that the President had sent for him. What passed before the shot is only conjecturable. He made his observations, doubtless, through the aperture in the door provided for that purpose. And here we come upon another proof of a deliberately-prepared plan. The very seats in the box had been arranged to suit his purpose, either by himself or, as is more likely, by some attaché of the theatre in complicity with him. The President sat in the left-hand corner of the box, nearest the audience, in an easy armchair. Next to him, on the right, sat Mrs. LINCOLN, Some distance to the right of both Miss HARRIS was seated, with Major RATHBONE at her left and a little in the rear of Mrs. LINCOLN. BOOTH rapidly surveyed the situation. The play had reached the second scene of the third act. Mrs. LINCOLN, intent on the play, was leaning forward, with one hand resting on her husband's knee. The President was leaning upon one hand, and with the other was adjusting a portion of the drapery, his face wearing a pleasant smile as it was partially turned to the audience. As to the act of assassination, there are two conflicting statements. According to one, BOOTH fired through the door at the left, which was closed. But this seems to have been unnecessary; and it is far more probable that he entered rapidly through the door at the right, and the next moment fired. The ball entered just behind the President's left ear, and though not producing instantaneous death completely obliterated all consciousness.
Major RATHBONE hearing the report, saw the assassin about six feet distant from the President, and encountered him ; but BOOTH shook off his grasp. The latter had dropped his weapon—an ordinary pocket-pistol -and had drawn a long glittering knife, with which he inflicted a wound upon the Major; and then, resting his left hand upon the railing, vaulted over easily to the stage, eight or nine feet below. As he passed between the folds of the flag decorating the box, his spur, which he wore on the right heel, caught the drapery and brought it down. He crouched as he fell, falling upon one knee, but quickly gained an up-right position, and staggered in a theatrical manner across the stage, brandishing his knife, and shouting, "Sic semper tyrannis!" He made his exit by the "tormentor" on the opposite side of the stage, passing MISS KEENE as he went out. The villain succeeded in making his escape without arrest. In this he was probably assisted by accomplices and by MOSBY'S guerillas. The President was immediately removed to the house of Mr. PETERSON, opposite the theatre, where he died at twenty-two minutes past seven the next morning, never having recovered his consciousness since the fatal shot. In his last hours he was attended by his wife and his son ROBERT, and prominent members of his Cabinet. His death has plunged the nation into deepest mourning, but his spirit still animates the people for whom he died.
PLAN OF THE BOX OCCUPIED BY PRESIDENT LINCOLN AT FORD'S THEATER, APRIL 14, 1865
0. Dark Corridor leading from the Dress Circle to Box.—H. Entrance to Corridor. I. The bar used by Booth to prevent entrance from without.—J. Dress Circle.—K. The Parquette.—L. The Foot-lights.—M. The Stage.—F. Open door to the President's Box.--G. Closed door.--N. Place where Booth vaulted over to the Stage below
Act III, Scene 2 of The American Cousin, the scene, during which, Lincoln was assassinated:
Scene 2.--Chamber as before.
Enter Mrs. Montchessington, and Augusta, L. 1 E.
Mrs M: Yes, my child, while Mr. De Boots and Mr. Trenchard are both here,
you must ask yourself seriously, as to the state of your affections,
remember, your happiness for life will depend upon the choice you make.
Aug: What would you advise, mamma? You know I am always advised by you.
Mrs M: Dear, obedient child. De Boots has excellent expectations,
but then they are only expectations after all. This American is rich,
and on the whole I think a well regulated affection ought to incline
to Asa Trenchard.
Aug: Very well, mamma.
Mrs M: At the same time, you must be cautious, or in grasping at
Asa Trenchard's solid good qualities, you may miss them,
and De Boots expectations into the bargain.
Aug: Oh, I will take care not to give up my hold on
poor De Boots 'till I am quite sure of the American.
Mrs M: That's my own girl. [Enter Asa L.] Ah, Mr. Trenchard,
we were just talking of your archery powers.
Asa: Wal, I guess shooting with bows and arrows is just about like
most things in life, all you've got to do is keep the sun out of your eyes,
look straight--pull strong--calculate the distance, and you're sure to hit
the mark in most things as well as shooting.
Aug: But not in England, Mr. Trenchard. There are disinterested hearts
that only ask an opportunity of showing how they despise that gold,
which others set such store by.
Asa :Wal, I suppose there are, Miss Gusty.
Aug: All I crave is affection.
Asa :[Crosses to C.] Do you, now? I wish I could make sure of that,
for I've been cruelly disappointed in that particular.
Mrs M: Yes, but we are old friends, Mr. Trenchard, and you needn't
be afraid of us.
Asa: Oh, I ain't afraid of you--both on you together.
Mrs M: People sometimes look a great way off, for that which is near at hand.
[Glancing at Augusta and Asa alternatively.]
Asa: You don't mean, Miss Gusta. [Augusta casts sheeps eyes at him.]
Now, don't look at me in that way. I can't stand it, if you do, I'll bust.
Mrs M: Oh, if you only knew how refreshing this ingenuousness of yours
is to an old woman of the world like me.
Asa :Be you an old woman of the world?
Mrs M: Yes, sir.
Aug: Oh yes.
Asa: Well I don't doubt it in the least. [Aside.] This gal and
the old woman are trying to get me on a string. [Aloud.] Wal,
then, if a rough spun fellow like me was to come forward as a suitor
for you daughter's hand, you wouldn't treat me as some folks do,
when they find out I wasn't heir to the fortune.
Mrs M: Not heir to the fortune, Mr. Trenchard?
Asa: Oh, no.
Aug: What, no fortune?
Asa: Nary red, it all comes to their barkin up the wrong tree about
the old man's property.
Mrs M: Which he left to you.
Asa: Oh, no.
Aug: Not to you?
Asa: No, which he meant to leave to me, but he thought better on it,
and left it to his granddaughter Miss Mary Meredith.
Mrs M: Miss Mary Meredith! Oh, I'm delighted.
Aug: Delighted?
Asa: Yes, you both look tickled to death. Now, some gals,
and mothers would go away from a fellow when they found that out,
but you don't valley fortune, Miss Gusty?
Mrs M :[Aside, crosses to Aug.] My love, you had better go.
Asa: You crave affection, _you_ do. Now I've no fortune, but I'm
filling over with affections which I'm ready to pour out all over
you like apple sass, over roast pork.
Mrs M: Mr. Trenchard, you will please recollect you are addressing
my daughter, and in my presence.
Asa: Yes, I'm offering her my heart and hand just as she wants them
with nothing in 'em.
Mrs M: Augusta, dear, to your room.
Aug: Yes, ma, the nasty beast. [Exit R.]
Mrs M: I am aware, Mr. Trenchard, you are not used to the manners
of good society, and that, alone, will excuse the impertinence
of which you have been guilty.
(This is the point where Lincoln was shot.)
Asa: Don't know the manners of good society, eh? Well,
I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal--
you sockdologizing old man-trap. Wal, now, when I think
what I've thrown away in hard cash to-day I'm apt to call myself
some awful hard names, 400,000 dollars is a big pile for a man
to light his cigar with. If that gal had only given me herself
in exchange, it wouldn't have been a bad bargain. But I dare
no more ask that gal to be my wife, than I dare ask Queen Victoria
to dance a Cape Cod reel.
Enter Florence, L. 1 E.
Flo: What do you mean by doing all these dreadful things?
Asa: Which things.
Flo: Come here sir. [He does so.]
Asa: What's the matter?
Flo: Do you know this piece of paper? [Showing burnt paper.]
Asa: Well I think I have seen it before. [Aside.]
Its old Mark Trenchard's will that I left half burned up like a landhead,
that I am.
Flo: And you're determined to give up this fortune to Mary Meredith?
Asa: Well, I couldn't help it if I tried.
Flo: Oh, don't say that.
Asa: I didn't mean to do it when I first came here--hadn't the least idea
in the world of it, but when I saw that everlasting angel of a gal
movin around among them doing fixins like a sunbeam in a shady place;
and when I pictured her without a dollar in the world--I--
well my old Adam riz right up, and I said, ``Asa do it''--and I did it.
Flo: Well, I don't know who your old Adam may be, but whoever it is,
he's a very honest man to consult you to do so good an action.
But how dare you do such an outrageous thing? you impudent--
you unceremonious, oh! you unselfish man! you! you, you!
[Smothers him with kisses, and runs off, R. 1 E.]
Asa: Well, if that ain't worth four hundred thousand dollars,
I don't know what is, it was sweeter than sweet cider right out of
the bung hole. Let me see how things stand round here.
Thanks to old whiskers I've got that ship for the sailor man,
and that makes him and Miss Florence all hunk. Then there's that
darned old Coyle. Well I guess me and old Murcott can fix his flint for him.
Then there's--[Looks off, L.] Christopher Columbus, here comes Mary.
Enter Mary, L. 1 E.
Mary: Mr. Trenchard, what can I say to you but offer you
my lifelong gratitude.
Asa: Don't now, Miss, don't--
Mary: If I knew what else to offer. Heaven knows there is nothing
that is mine to give that I would keep back.
Asa: Give me yourself. [Bus.] I know what a rude, ill-mannered block I am;
but there's a heart inside me worth something, if it's only for
the sake of your dear little image, that's planted right plump
in the middle of it.
Mary: Asa Trenchard, there is my hand, and my heart is in it.
Asa: [Seizes here hand, then drops it suddenly.] Miss Mary,
I made what folks call a big sacrifice for you, this morning.
Oh! I know it, I ain't so modest, but that I know it.
Now what's this you're doing? Is this sacrifice you are making
out of gratitude for me? Cause if it is, I wouldn't have it,
though not to have it would nigh break my heart, tough as it is.
Mary: No, no, I give myself freely to you--as freely as you,
this morning, gave my grandfather's property to me.
Asa: Say it again, last of hope and blessed promise.
[Clasps her in his arms.] Mary, there's something tells me
that you'll not repent it. I'm rough, Mary, awful rough,
but you needn't fear that I'll ever be rough to you.
I've camped out in the woods, Mary, often and often,
and seen the bears at play with their cubs in the moonlight,
the glistening teeth, that would tear the hunter,
was harmless to them; the big strong claws that would peel a man's head,
as a knife would a pumpkin, was as soft for them as velvet cushions,
and that's what I'll be with you, my own little wife; and if ever harm
does come to you, it must come over the dead body of Asa Trenchard.
Mary: I know it Asa; and if I do not prove a true and loving wife to you;
may my mother's bright spirit never look down to bless her child.
Asa :Wal, if I don't get out in the air, I'll bust.
[Exit hastily R. 1 E. pulling Mary after him.]
Enter Binny, L. 1 E. Drunk.
Binny: [Calling.] Mr. H'Asa, Mr. H'Asa! Oh he's gone;
well, I suppose he'll come back to keep his happointment.
Mr. Coyle's quite impatient. It isn't hoften that han hamerican has
the run of the wine cellars of Trenchard Manor, and in such company, too.
There's me and Mr. Coyle, which is a good judge of old port wine,
and he knows it when he drinks; and his clerk, Mr. Murcott,
which I don't hexactly like sitting down with clerks. But Mr. H'Asa
wished it and Mr. Coyle hadn't any objections, so in course
I put my feelings in my pocket, besides, Murcott is a man of hedication,
though unfortunately taken to drink. Well, what of that,
it's been many a man's misfortune, though I say it, what shouldn't say it,
being a butler. But now to join my distinguished party. [Exit, R. 1 E.]
Asa: Don't know the manners of good society, eh? Well,
I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal--
you sockdologizing old man-trap. Wal, now, when I think
what I've thrown away in hard cash to-day I'm apt to call myself
some awful hard names, 400,000 dollars is a big pile for a man
to light his cigar with. If that gal had only given me herself
in exchange, it wouldn't have been a bad bargain. But I dare
no more ask that gal to be my wife, than I dare ask Queen Victoria
to dance a Cape Cod reel.
Enter Florence, L. 1 E.
Flo: What do you mean by doing all these dreadful things?
Asa: Which things.
Flo: Come here sir. [He does so.]
Asa: What's the matter?
Flo: Do you know this piece of paper? [Showing burnt paper.]
Asa: Well I think I have seen it before. [Aside.]
Its old Mark Trenchard's will that I left half burned up like a landhead,
that I am.
Flo: And you're determined to give up this fortune to Mary Meredith?
Asa: Well, I couldn't help it if I tried.
Flo: Oh, don't say that.
Asa: I didn't mean to do it when I first came here--hadn't the least idea
in the world of it, but when I saw that everlasting angel of a gal
movin around among them doing fixins like a sunbeam in a shady place;
and when I pictured her without a dollar in the world--I--
well my old Adam riz right up, and I said, ``Asa do it''--and I did it.
Flo: Well, I don't know who your old Adam may be, but whoever it is,
he's a very honest man to consult you to do so good an action.
But how dare you do such an outrageous thing? you impudent--
you unceremonious, oh! you unselfish man! you! you, you!
[Smothers him with kisses, and runs off, R. 1 E.]
Asa: Well, if that ain't worth four hundred thousand dollars,
I don't know what is, it was sweeter than sweet cider right out of
the bung hole. Let me see how things stand round here.
Thanks to old whiskers I've got that ship for the sailor man,
and that makes him and Miss Florence all hunk. Then there's that
darned old Coyle. Well I guess me and old Murcott can fix his flint for him.
Then there's--[Looks off, L.] Christopher Columbus, here comes Mary.
Enter Mary, L. 1 E.
Mary: Mr. Trenchard, what can I say to you but offer you
my lifelong gratitude.
Asa: Don't now, Miss, don't--
Mary: If I knew what else to offer. Heaven knows there is nothing
that is mine to give that I would keep back.
Asa: Give me yourself. [Bus.] I know what a rude, ill-mannered block I am;
but there's a heart inside me worth something, if it's only for
the sake of your dear little image, that's planted right plump
in the middle of it.
Mary: Asa Trenchard, there is my hand, and my heart is in it.
Asa: [Seizes here hand, then drops it suddenly.] Miss Mary,
I made what folks call a big sacrifice for you, this morning.
Oh! I know it, I ain't so modest, but that I know it.
Now what's this you're doing? Is this sacrifice you are making
out of gratitude for me? Cause if it is, I wouldn't have it,
though not to have it would nigh break my heart, tough as it is.
Mary: No, no, I give myself freely to you--as freely as you,
this morning, gave my grandfather's property to me.
Asa: Say it again, last of hope and blessed promise.
[Clasps her in his arms.] Mary, there's something tells me
that you'll not repent it. I'm rough, Mary, awful rough,
but you needn't fear that I'll ever be rough to you.
I've camped out in the woods, Mary, often and often,
and seen the bears at play with their cubs in the moonlight,
the glistening teeth, that would tear the hunter,
was harmless to them; the big strong claws that would peel a man's head,
as a knife would a pumpkin, was as soft for them as velvet cushions,
and that's what I'll be with you, my own little wife; and if ever harm
does come to you, it must come over the dead body of Asa Trenchard.
Mary: I know it Asa; and if I do not prove a true and loving wife to you;
may my mother's bright spirit never look down to bless her child.
Asa :Wal, if I don't get out in the air, I'll bust.
[Exit hastily R. 1 E. pulling Mary after him.]
Enter Binny, L. 1 E. Drunk.
Binny: [Calling.] Mr. H'Asa, Mr. H'Asa! Oh he's gone;
well, I suppose he'll come back to keep his happointment.
Mr. Coyle's quite impatient. It isn't hoften that han hamerican has
the run of the wine cellars of Trenchard Manor, and in such company, too.
There's me and Mr. Coyle, which is a good judge of old port wine,
and he knows it when he drinks; and his clerk, Mr. Murcott,
which I don't hexactly like sitting down with clerks. But Mr. H'Asa
wished it and Mr. Coyle hadn't any objections, so in course
I put my feelings in my pocket, besides, Murcott is a man of hedication,
though unfortunately taken to drink. Well, what of that,
it's been many a man's misfortune, though I say it, what shouldn't say it,
being a butler. But now to join my distinguished party. [Exit, R. 1 E.]
