Free Assassin by Anna Myers Page A

our home. You’ve betrayed Maryland,” I accused him.
    “Maryland did not secede,” he answered calmly.
    The ease of his manner infuriated me! Could he not see that the matter we discussed was important, was everything? “We should have seceded, by thunder! Look how Lincoln treats us, guarding our borders with suspicion and taking away our writ of habeas corpus, locking people up at will!”
    He yawned! Yes, I tell you, he yawned. “How can a man as intelligent as you, Wilkes, not see that the Union must be preserved?” He picked up a book as if to showme the discussion was at an end. “Your beloved South cannot stand. You may as well get used to the idea.”
    I walked out of his house then, and I decided that I would not go back except to see Mother, who is often there caring for Edwin’s motherless daughter. I hate being at odds with Edwin. Nothing else has ever divided us. People suppose that there is professional jealousy between us, both of us prominent actors. Ah, yes, there is talk. . . . Who is the greatest Booth? Which brother is the country’s leading actor? We pay them no heed. We are brothers. When I followed Edwin to the stage, he found true delight in my success in what is, after all, the family business.
    Well, why should the Booth boys be any different from the countless other brothers this war has divided? It is, indeed, “A War of Brothers.” June and Joseph support Lincoln too. My brothers’ desertion of me prompted my selection of the quote I had printed on show cards and playbills. It is a quote from Richard in
Richard III
: “I have no brother, I am no brother . . . I AM MYSELF ALONE.”
    June is kinder to me on the subject. He was away from the family for so many years managing theaters and doing some acting out west. “This is all a family quarrel, a big family quarrel, I’ll admit, but a family fuss still. It will pass, just as your hard feelings toward Edwin will pass.”
    Had it not been for June, acting as peacemaker, Edwin and I would never have been able to perform together.The play was Shakespeare’s
Julius Caesar
, one of the few pieces with three strong leads for men. Edwin was Brutus, June played Cassius, and I was Marc Antony.
    It was late November and bitter cold in New York. Lincoln had been reelected, and my spirits were low. The play was held at the Winter Garden, a lovely old Broadway playhouse named for one in Paris. Mother sat in a box just above the stage, and she was radiant in a black dress with a white collar. On her face was a look of complete happiness. Dear Mother! I loved my mother, hated to grieve her.
    The house was packed. The Booth boys raised $3,500 for the statue! There was a party at Edwin’s after the play, everyone laughing and dancing. I pretended to smile, but the air seemed stale to me. I had to loosen my collar in order to breathe freely.
    Then I heard Edwin. He was talking, surrounded by people, but Edwin’s voice, of course, carries. I heard every word. I stood slightly away from the crowd, leaning against a doorframe. Edwin spoke of being at a dinner party with Abraham Lincoln, spoke of it with pride! The party was at the home of William H. Seward, secretary of state, a man I hate almost as much as I hate Lincoln.
    Edwin told how Mr. Seward and Mr. Lincoln had gone several times to see him in plays at the National Theatre in Washington City, and Edwin felt honored. “What an exhilarating experience! Sitting at the same dinner table with Abraham Lincoln! Seward’s daughter was wild to havemy autograph, but I tell you it felt strange for me to be the one signing autographs in the presence of such greatness!”
    I left the party then. Found Mother, kissed her quickly, and made for the door, almost unable to breathe. At first I took a hansom cab, but then I got out to walk. The wind was sharp, but I seemed to feel no cold except the cold that came from inside me. I walked along the water, stared out at the dark waves, and searched for