In August 1864 the actor John Wilkes Booth, a fervent Confederate sympathizer, began recruiting potential co-conspirators in a plot to abduct President Lincoln, take him to Richmond, and use him as a hostage in order to force the resumption of prisoner exchanges. Booth visited his sister, Asia, in Philadelphia in the latter part of November while on his way to New York, where he would appear with his brothers Edwin and Junius in a benefit performance of Julius Caesar on November 25. During this visit Booth gave his sister a packet for safekeeping that contained two letters. One was addressed to Booth’s mother, while the other was probably intended for Asia’s husband, John Sleeper Clarke, a successful comic actor and theater manager whom Booth had quarreled with over politics. Addressed “To whom it may concern,” it would be published in the Philadelphia Inquirer on April 19, 1865, the day after Clarke turned it over to the U.S. marshal in Philadelphia.
1864
My Dear Sir
You may use this, as you think best, but as some, may wish to know and, and as I know not, how, to direct, I give it. (In the words of your Master)
“To whom it may concern”
Right, or wrong, God, judge me, not man. For be my motive good or bad, of one thing I am sure, the lasting condemnation of the north.
I love peace more than life. Have loved the Union beyond expression. For four years have I waited, hoped and prayed, for the dark clouds to break, And for a restoration of our former sunshine, to wait longer would be a crime. All hope for peace is dead, my prayers have proved as idle as my hopes. God’s will be done. I go to see, and share the bitter end.
I have ever held the South were right. The very nomination of Abraham Lincoln four years ago, spoke plainly—war, war upon Southern rights and institutions. His election proved it. “Await an overt act.” Yes till you are bound and plundered. What folly, the South were wise. Who thinks of argument or patience when the finger of his enemy presses on the trigger. In a foreign war, I too could say “Country right or wrong,” but in a struggle such as ours (where the brother tries to pierce the brothers heart) for God’s sake choose the right. When a country like this spurns justice from her side, She forfeits the allegiance of every honest freeman, and should leave him untrammeled by any fealty soever, to act, as his conscience may approve.
People of the north, to hate tyranny to love liberty and justice, to strike at wrong and oppression, was the teaching of our fathers. The study of our early history will not let me forget it, And may it never.
This country was formed for the white not for the black man. And looking upon African slavery from the same standpoint, held by those noble framers of our Constitution. I for one, have ever considered it, one of the greatest blessings (both for themselves and us,) that God even bestowed upon a favored nation. Witness heretofore our wealth and power. Witness their elevation in happiness and enlightment above their race, elsewhere. I have lived among it most of my life and have seen less harsh treatment from Master to Man than I have beheld in the north from father to son. Yet Heaven knows no one would be willing to do, more for the negro race than I. Could I but see a way to still better their condition, But Lincoln’s policy is only preparing the way for their total annihilation. The South are not, nor have they been fighting for the continuance of slavery, the first battle of Bull-run did away with that idea. Their causes since for war have been as noble, and greater far than those that urged our fathers on. Even should we allow, they were wrong at the beginning of this contest, cruelty and injustice, have made the wrong become the right. And they stand now, (before the wonder and admiration of the world) as a noble band of patriotic heroes. Hereafter, reading of their deeds, Thermopylae will be forgotten.
When I aided in the capture and execution of John Brown, (Who was a murderer on our Western Border, and who was fairly tried and convicted,—before an impartial judge & jury—of treason,—And who by the way has since been made a God—I was proud of my little share in the transaction, for I deemed it my duty And that I was helping our common country to perform an act of justice. But what was a crime in poor John Brown is now considered (by themselves) as the greatest and only virtue, of the whole Republican party. Strange transmigration, vice to become a virtue. Simply because more indulge in it. I thought then, as now, that the abolitionists, were the only traitors in the land, And that the entire party, deserved the fate of poor old Brown. Not because they wish to abolish slavery, but on account of the means they have even endeavored to use, to effect that abolition. If Brown were living, I doubt if he himself, would set slavery, against the Union. Most, or many, in the North do, And openly curse the Union, if the South are to return and retain a single right guaranteed them by every tie which we once revered as sacred. The south can make no choice. It is either extermination or slavery for themselves (worse than death) to draw from. I would know my choice.
I have, also, studied hard to discover upon what grounds, the rights of a state to Secede have been denied, when our very name (United States) and our Declaration of Independence, both provide for secession. But there is no time for words. I write in haste. I know how foolish I shall be deemed, for undertaking such a step, as this, Where on the one side, I have many friends, and everything to make me happy. Where my profession alone has gained me an income of more than Twenty thousand dollars a year. And where my great personal ambition in my profession has such a great field for labor. On the other hand—the south have never bestowed upon me one kind word. A place now, where I have no friends, except beneath the sod. A place where I must either become a private soldier or a beggar. To give up all of the former for the latter, besides my mother and sisters whom I love so dearly, (although they so widely differ with me in opinion) seems insane, But God is my judge I love justice, more than I do a country, that disowns it. More than fame and wealth. More (Heaven pardon me if wrong) more than a happy home. I have never been upon a battlefield, but, O my countrymen, could you all but see the reality or effects of this horrid war, as I have seen them (in every State, save Virginia) I know you would think like me. And would pray the Almighty to create in the northern mind a sense of right and justice (even should it possess no seasoning of mercy.) and that he would dry up this Sea of blood between us,—which is daily growing wider. Alas, poor Country, Is she to meet her threatened doom. Four years ago, I would have given a thousand lives, to see her remain (as I had always known her) powerful and unbroken. And even now I would hold my life as naught, to see her what she was. O my friends, if the fearful scenes of the past four years had never been enacted, and if what has been had been but a frightful dream, from which we could now awake, with what overflowing hearts could we bless our God And pray for his continued favor. How I have loved the old flag can never, now, be known. A few years since and the entire world could boast of none so pure and spotless. But I have of late been seeing and hearing of the bloody deeds of which She has been made, the emblem. And would shudder to think how changed she had grown. O How I have longed to see her break from the mist of blood and death that circles round her folds, spoiling her beauty and tarnishing her honor. But no, day by day has she been draged deeper and deeper into cruelty and oppression, till now (in my eyes) her once bright red stripes look like bloody gashes on the face of Heaven. I look now upon my early admiration of her glories as a dream. My love (as things stand today) is for the South alone. Nor, do I deem it a dishonor in attempting to make for her a prisoner of this man, to whom she owes so much of misery. If success attends me, I go penniless to her side. They say she has found that “last ditch” which the north have so long derided, and been endeavoring to force her in, forgetting they are our brothers, and that its impolitic to goad an enemy to madness. Should I reach her in safety and find it true, I will proudly beg permission to triumph or die in that same “ditch” by her side,
A Confederate, doing duty upon his own responsibility.
J Wilkes Booth
November 1864