Authors: Clarissa Ross
Barnum would not employ him again and would send the word out to the other theatre managers. It would be impossible for Peter to obtain any sort of decent work. If he remained in the theatre he would have to settle for some small travelling company touring the towns and villages. She could not see his pride allowing him to do this and she worried about what would happen to him.
The next night they played
She Stoops To Conquer
and John Wilkes Booth again gave a fine performance and earned much applause. The box-office people reported that tickets were selling far ahead on the strength of’ the Booth name.
That night she had her first taste of many evenings which were to follow in which she and John Wilkes Booth were guests of Washington society. Major Furlong’s mansion had a huge ballroom and it was filled with dancing couples when they arrived.
A predominant number of the men wore the blue of the Union Army. She was surprised and amused to find that Booth seemed on good terms with many of them.
Nor did he expound his political views while they were at the party. He played the unlikely role of apt listener as the various officers told stories of the trials and triumphs of the Union Army.
She stood with a polite and attentive John Wilkes Booth as Major Furlong went on to a circle of mixed officers and civilians of his views. In part he said, “There is no question that Lincoln will have to enact a conscription bill. The army must have more men!”
John Wilkes Booth asked quietly, “Will the people accept such an act? Will there not be riots?”
The bearded Furlong pounded a fist in his hands. “By God, if there are riots the military will quickly put them down!”
One of the younger officers said, “I say what we need as much as conscripts is a leader capable of decision. The Union Army could use a Robert E. Lee!”
“We will find one,” Major Furlong promised. “The President is aware of the problem.”
“I hear the Confederate navy are playing havoc with our Union ships,” still another officer said.
Booth nodded. “I have heard the same thing. That there was a good-sized battle off the Virginia coast only yesterday and the Feds were the victors!”
“Careful, Booth!” Major Furlong warned him. “That is very secret information. It is better not to mention such things at this time. There are ears everywhere they warn me, listening for the Feds!”
John Wilkes Booth smiled. “You must forgive me. I’m only an actor. We know little about such things.”
Fanny watched her companion closely all through the evening. And when they were in their carriage as he took her back to the hotel, she gazed at him in the semi-darkness of the carriage and said, “I now understand why you have become such a social butterfly!”
“Oh?”
“Yes,” she continued. “I studied you all evening and I knew you were acting.”
He laughed lightly. “All correct social conduct requires some acting.”
“That is not what I mean!”
“What do you mean?”
“You are going to these parties and making friends with these people to betray them! You are actively seeking out information to pass on to your friends in the South!”
“Well?” he said quietly.
“You are in fact, a Southern spy!”
“Ugly words.”
“I know what I’m saying has to be true!”
Booth took her hands in his and quietly said, “Think what you like. And do not expect me to make any admissions.”
“But it has to be dangerous,” she warned him. “If they find out you could be shot or hanged.”
“That is only the fate of members of the secret service,” he assured her. “I’m not in any such service.”
“You are in fact if not in name,” she argued as the carriage rolled closer to her hotel through the dark, gas-lit streets.
“I warned you I would not admit anything,” he said once again. “And if you are wise you will not question me along these lines further.”
“I worry for you! You are risking your talent and the reputation! Does the South really mean all this much to you?”
“Yes,” he said in a low, intense voice. “I would give my life for the Confederate cause.”
“You well may!”
“Then I’ll have sacrificed no more than many a soldier in the field.”
“Will you return to the South?”
“If things are not settled by the time we finish in New York, I will,” he said. “I do not want Lincoln to be a king!”
“That will never be,” she said.
He suddenly became strangely upset and angrily replied, “No, never that! This man’s pedigree, his coarse low jokes, and anecdotes, his vulgar smiles and his frivolity are a disgrace to the office he holds. He walks in the footsteps of old John Brown but he is not fit to stand with that rugged old hero!”
“John!” she begged him. “Do not so distress yourself!”
“I cannot help it,” he ranted on. “John Brown was a man inspired! The greatest character of this century. This damned Lincoln is a Bonaparte in one great move, that is, by overturning this blind Republic and making himself king! This man’s reelection which will follow his success, I tell you, will be a reign!”
She managed to calm him down a little by the time they reached the entrance of her hotel. By talking of some of their theatre problems she changed his train of thought. But his overpowering emotion had frightened her. He had been almost maniacal in his intensity. She had seen him display such strong emotion on the stage but never in private. It left her worried.
At the hotel he was the charming gentleman again and bade her goodnight. She asked him to stay away from the more sordid saloons and he promised he would. She could only hope that he kept his word. There was no telling about him.
Long after she was in bed she thought of the tense moments in the carriage when he had ranted against the President. His hatred of Lincoln had become a dangerous obsession with him. And it was hard to say what sort of conspiracy he had mixed in. She was certain he was being the darling of the Washington social crowd to pick up important scraps of information for the enemy. It was a volatile situation and if he should suddenly be exposed or even suspected, he might be quickly placed under arrest.
As part of her plan to keep a close watch on Booth she left the expensive hotel where she’d been staying and moved to the more modest one in which he had a room. This pleased him but he made no pretense of not understanding what she was about.
He came to see her comfortable room and said, “Not as luxurious as the one you left.”
“No,” she said with a smile. “But it better suits me.”
“And you are paying for this one yourself.”
She blushed. “I should never have told you about Peter.”
“Why not?” he asked. “I do not hold it against you. I only blame him for missing a great chance to be your husband.”
“He asked me.”
“No doubt.”
“He was sincere,” she insisted. “But I knew somehow that neither of us truly cared enough for the other to marry.”
“And you were surely right,” the handsome, mustached actor said. He moved about getting the feel of the room and added, “This is a much more pleasant room than the other. You will enjoy it despite the lack of luxury.”
“It is more convenient as well,” she said.
“I must go take care of some business,” he said, picking up his hat and walking stick.
She stared at him. “Spy business?”
He smiled and shook his head. “You talk childish nonsense much of the time.”
“John!” she said urgently. “Take care!”
“But I always do,” he said airily.
“I mean it!” she insisted. “I could not bear to lose you.”
He came to her again, the tophat at a jaunty angle as he smiled down at her. “Are you worried that I will spoil your plans for the company?”
“I’m frantic with fear for you,” she told him.
He bent forward and gently kissed her on the lips. “You must not be. And when this madness is at an end, I will ask you the important question. And Fanny Cornish will become Fanny Booth!”
“That will never happen,” she told him.
“Don’t be too sure,” was his mocking reply.
And he went on his way leaving her still fearful for him. The charm which she had noted in him at their first meeting seemed to have vastly increased. She had always admired him as an actor. Now she admired him as a man. She could even forgive his spying. It was his conception of serving the cause in which he believed. In his own way he was as brave as any soldier in the front line of battle action.
The great danger was that he allowed his emotional nature to lead him into doing something truly mad. Some grandiose gesture which might think important to winning the war but which might end in disaster and his own death. He was hard to understand. She could only comfort herself by thinking that as long as he needed to keep himself a favorite of Washington society for his spying, he would not dare to do anything too rash.
The maid came and it brought a long letter from Phineas T. Barnum filled with compliments of the record business and excellent reviews the company was getting in Washington. He praised her for her selection of John Wilkes Booth as her co-star and for the way she was handling him.
Barnum wrote: “John is a difficult fellow. Not at all like Edwin or Junius Brutus, Jr. They have always had the most pleasant arrangements with management. But John has remained unstable and a rebel. Yet he has a superior talent. Perhaps, as you have written, he is the one with the most ability of all three. But I have in the past been afraid to risk much on him. This will be the New York opportunity he has so desired. His great chance. I hope he does nothing to cheat himself of it.”
She put the letter aside with the same feeling. Then she saw one from England with the address written in the cramped hand of the aged. She quickly tore the envelope open and discovered the letter was from the elderly actress, Hilda Asquith, who had been one of her best friends in London.
“I am playing a small part of a servant in a company headed by a young man of great talent called Henry Irving, though his real name is Brodribb and hardly suitable for the theatre. Your friends, Silas, and all the rest speak of you often and miss you. I think you should know that Lord George Palmer has married Dora. So there is a new Lady Palmer. Those who have seen her claim that her health is poor and she looks much too pale. Perhaps that is why he decided to marry her.
“Because he is fearful she may have a health breakdown. She has stayed by him and been a fine foster-mother to his children. So it is to be hoped that she will recover and they will have a happy life together. Surely, they both deserve it. From your letter I would guess that you and the man, Peter Cortez, might marry. He sounds a pleasant sort although you claim he cannot match David as an actor.
“David was one of the few! I dare say this Henry Irving is destined for a fine career but he is no more talented than was poor David. If only he had guessed what lay ahead of him in America he might not have gone there. To have him die so far away is a sadness to those of us here in London who loved him.
“Silas is still a stage door man though he now has fits of gout and is laid up for days. But he somehow manages to limp to his post and sit there like a king with his foot propped up. He sends you his love and good wishes. At his theatre there is an American star of whom he thinks highly. This fellow’s name is Edwin Booth and he is a match for the best of our Shakespearean actors, or so says Silas. And he is not one given to exaggeration.
“I hope you will one day return to London before I’m too old to enjoy your company. I mean to keep on working as long as I’m able though now I do not seek roles which tax me too much. Mr. Irving is kind to me and tells me that my long experience shows in even the most minute role and helps to strengthen his company. I must close now wishing you every good fortune! God be with you! your friend, Hilda Asquith.”
Tears formed in Fanny’s eyes as she read the letter and visualized the kindly, lined face of the veteran actress who had written her. She’d also been touched by the news of George Palmer’s marriage. Of late she had thought of him a good deal less but this letter brought back remembrance of the early years of England. Her mind was flooded by memory of the joys and the tragedies she had experienced.
So George had married Dora! She had prophesized that he would. And surely it was best. There could be no doubt that Dora loved him and had been devoted to his motherless children. Now it would all fit in place. The one problem might be Dora’s health since she had not been a strong girl. Surely a happy marriage would do much to ease her mind and thus help her general health.
George was surely entitled to another chance at happiness. His first marriage had been an unhappy one. Fanny knew the love affair she’d had with him had been a high spot in both their lives. But fate had been against them. And in the end they’d had no choice but to part.
After her marriage to David she had vowed never to think of George again. But thoughts of her first love had crept back in her mind at the most unexpected times. If David had guessed he had showed great understanding. For their life together had been a good one with no suspicions or jealousy offered on his part.