Useless, Useless

Wednesday. The 26th day of April in the year 1865.

12 days after the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln, at a farm called Locust Hill, home to Confederate Richard H. Garrett and located in Port Royal, Virginia, John Wilkes Booth was shot and killed. Today marks 149 years since the death of Booth and the capture of his accomplice, David Herold.

Around 2:30 AM, the 16th New York Cavalry arrived at the Garrett farm. The unit was composed of  26 men led by Edward Doherty, Everton Conger, and Lafayette Baker. The directions to the farm had come from a Confederate soldier named Willie Jett. In an ironic twist of fate, Jett had aided Booth and Herold the day before, what would be their last day of freedom forever. He turned on Booth after some "persuasion" from the Union soldiers. (After being beaten around until he guided them to the farm).

The soldiers surrounded the tobacco barn that Booth and Herold had been sleeping in but Booth refused arrest. When Conger threatened to set fire to the building, Herold abandoned Booth, surrendered, and was taken prisoner. Booth still refused to leave so the barn was set ablaze. Furniture that the Garrett's had been hiding for their neighbors (who were fearful of Union raids) was incinerated after having survived four long years of war. The Union government refused to reimburse the Garrett's for their lost barn.  

Conger and his partners had orders from the Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton, to take Booth alive. As the flames climbed higher, Booth threw down his crutches and lifted the carbine Herold had left behind. He stepped toward the door as if to shoot his way out. Thomas "Boston" Corbett, a member of the 16th New York, saw Booth through a crack in the barn wall. Aiming his revolver, Corbett fired without orders and struck Booth in the back of the neck. The bullet severed his spinal cord and paralyzed him. Later, when asked why he disobeyed orders, Corbett said, "Providence directed me." Corbett was an insane religious fanatic and would become more so as time went on. Earlier in his life, to avoid the temptation of prostitutes, he castrated himself with a pair of scissors. Like the gun he used to kill Booth, Corbett also went missing. Some historians claim he was killed in a fire.

After being dragged out of the barn, Booth said to one of the soldiers, "Tell Mother I died for my country." Booth was then brought to the porch of the Garrett farm house. Unable to move and barely able to speak, he lingered and suffocated in pain for over two hours before taking his last breath at sunrise and joining President Lincoln in the afterlife. The chase for Lincoln's assassin had come to an end. As he looked upon his hands, Booth spoke his final words. "Useless, useless." No one has ever been able to figure out what Booth was referring to.

In the grand scheme of events, Booth got off easy. His death was not quick or painless but he did not have to suffer brutal beatings at the hands of the Union or the farce of a trial he would have been given had he been captured. Like many others, David Herold was not so fortunate. For him, his mother and sisters the nightmares were far from over.

Herold was sent back to Washington in chains. Arriving around 1:45 AM on April 27, 1865, he was hooded and confined in the dark ward aboard the ironclad USS Montauk. Booth's life had ended but unspeakable torments were about to consume and snuff out Herold's. He would be thrust into a living hell that would last until July 7, 1865, when he would be executed for some actions that were not his own and none that merited the punishment of death.

One historian wrote,

"Abraham Lincoln, vilified through most of his presidency by friend and foe, attained in death a martyrdom that helped him become the most popular president in US history. It is ironic that the man who shot him had, throughout his life, enjoyed the honor and admiration of most everyone who knew him, but in death acquired an ignominy so complete it even destroyed the lives of those who came into contact with him."

Someone who was once one of the greatest men in the nation fell 149 years ago this morning. The actions of John Wilkes Booth scarred not just him, but many people, especially those close to him. His fiancé, Lucy Lambert Hale, woke with a pain in her neck and knew her love had died. Did his actions seal the fate of the South as is often claimed? That answer is unknown.

While some feel the need to rejoice on this tragic anniversary, I cannot. Sorrow and hurt for what could have been are the emotions I feel. Through the dark I search for the light and through the pain I search for love. Love will always conquer pain in the end.

Until next time, I pray.

XOXO, Kate