The life, crime, and capture of John Wilkes Booth,: with a full sketch of the conspiracy of which he was the leader, and the pursuit, trial and execution of his accomplices./ By George Alfred Townsend.

26 The Life, Crime, and aphe of/ John Wilkes Buo.
ory might have been hidden. The end had come when he appeared t make
of benignant victory a quenchless revenge. One more selet'on fom his
apostrophe will do. It suggests the manner of his death:
"They say that the South has found tCat'last ditch' which the Nortb
have so long derided. 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."
The swamp near which he died may be called, without unseemly pun-&
truth, not a bon mot-the last ditch of the rebellion.
None of the printed pictures that I have seen do justice to Booth. Some
of the cartes de visite get him very nearly. He had one of the finest vital
heads I have ever seen. In'fact, he was one of the best exponents of vital
beauty I have ever met. By this I refer to physical beauty in the Mediciaa
sense-health, shapeliness, power in beautiful poise, and seemingly more
powerful in repose than-in energy. His hands and feet were s'zable, not
small, and his legs were stout and muscular, but inclined to bow like his
father's. From the waist up he was a perfect man; his chest being full
and broad, his shoulders gently sloping, and his arms as white as alabaster,
but hard as marble. Over these, upoii a neck which was its proper column,
rose the cornice of a fine Dorie face, spare at the jaws and not anywhere
over-ripe, but seamed with a nose of Roman model, the only relic of his
halfJewish parentage, which gave decision to the thoughtfully stern sweep
of two direct, dark eyes, meaning to woman snare, and to man a search warrant, while the lofty square forehead and square brows were crowned with
a weight of curling jetty hair, like a rich Corinthian capital. His profile
*was ea,gleish, and afar his countenance was haughty. He seemed throat
full of introspections, ambitious self-examinings, ey-strides into the future,
as if it withheld him something to which he had a right. I have since won dered whether this moody demeanor did not come of a guilty spirit, but
all the Booths look so.
Wilkes spoke to me in Washington for the first time three weeks before
the murder. His address was winning as a girl's, rising in effect not from
what he said, but from how he said it. It was magnetic, and I can des cribe it therefore by its effects alone. I seemed, when he had spoken, to
lean toward this man. His attitude spoke to me; with as easy familiarity
*as I eever observed he drew r ear and conversed. The talk was on sc
trite things that it did not lie a second in the head, but when I left him it
was with the feeling that a most agreeable fellow had passed by.
The next time the name of Wilkes Booth recurred to me was like the
pistol shot he had fired. The right hand I had shaken murdered the father
of the country.
Booth was not graceful with his feet, although his ordinary walk was
plea sat enough. But his arms were put to artistio uses; not the baser
ones like boxing, but all sorts of fencing, manual practice, and the hand log of weapons.
n his dress, he was neat without being particular. Almost any clothes
could fit him; but he had nothing of the exquisite about him; his neck
'ties and all such matters were good without being gaudy. Nature had
done much for him. In this beautiful palace an outlaw had builded his
fire, and slept, and plotted, and dtreamed.
I have heard it said that Booth frequently cut his adversaries upon the
stage in sheer wantonness or bloodthirstiness. This is a mistake, and is
attributable to his father, the elder Booth, who had the madness of con
founding himself with the character. Wilkes was too good a fencer to
make ugly gashes; his pride was his skill, not his awkwardness. Once