Statewide County NcArchives News.....John Wilkes Booth Dairy 1890 ************************************************ Copyright. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://www.usgwarchives.net/nc/ncfiles.htm ************************************************ File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by: Guy Potts http://www.genrecords.net/emailregistry/vols/00017.html#0004214 November 23, 2007, 3:16 am The Daily News 1890 8 Jan 1890 J. Wilkes Booth Diary - The Last Words He Wrote Before He Was Shot His Prayer While Trying to Elude His Pursuers that He Might Not Perish as a Criminal, but as a Brave Man Baltimore, Jan. 6 - The American received tonight from its Washington correspondent the following extract from J. Wilkes Booth's dairy found in his clothes after his death. It is now in the possession of the Department of Justice: "April 14 - Friday, the Ides. "Until today nothing was ever thought of sacrificing to our country's wrongs. For six months we have worked to capture, but our cause being almost lost, something decisive and great must be done. But its failure was owing to others, who did not strike for their country with a heart. I struck boldly, and not as the papers say. I walked with a firm step through a thousand of his friends, was stopped, but pushed on. A Colonel was at his side. I shouted sic semper before I fired. In jumping broke my leg. I passed all his pickets. Rode sixty miles that night with the bone of my leg tearing the flesh at every jump. I can never repent it. Though we hated to kill, our country owed all her troubles to him, and God simply made me the instrument of his punishment. "The country is not what it was. This forced union is not what I have loved. I care not what becomes of me. I have no desire to outlive my country. The night before the deed I wrote a long article and left it for one of the editors of the National Intelligencer, in which I fully set out our reasons for our proceeding. He or the South. "Friday, 21. "After being hunted like a dog through swamps, woods, and last night being chased till I was forced to return, wet, cold, and starving, with every man's hand against me. I am here in despair, and for why? For doing what Brutus was honored for, what made Tell a hero; and yet I, for striking down a greater tyrant than they ever knew, am looked upon as a common cutthroat. My act was purer than either of theirs. One hoped to be great himself; the other had not only his country's but his own wrongs to avenge. I hoped for no gain. I knew no private wrong. I struck for my country, and that alone - a country ground beneath this tryanny - and prayed for this end. And yet, now behold the cold hand they extend to me. "God cannot pardon me if I have done wrong. Yet I cannot see any wrong, except in serving a degenerate people. The little, the very little, I left behind to clear my name the Government will not allow to be printed. So ends all. For my country I have given up all that makes life sweet and holy, brought misery upon my family, and am sure there is no pardon in the heavens for me since man condemns me so. "I have only heard what has been done (except what I did myself), and it fills me with horror. God try and forgive me, and bless mother. Tonight I will once more try the river with the intention of cross, though I have a greater desire and almost a mind to return to Washington and in a measure clear my name, which I feel I can do. I do not repent the blow I struck. I may before my God, but not to man. I think I have done well, though I am abandoned, with the curse of Cain upon me, when, if the world knew my heart, that one blow would have made me great, though I did desire no greatness. "Tonight I try to escape these bloodhounds once more. Who can read his fate? God's will be done. I have too great a soul to die like a criminal. Oh, may He, may He, spare me that, and let me die bravely. I bless the entire world. I have never hated or wronged any one. This last was not a wrong, unless God deems it so, and it is with Him to damn or bless me. "And for this brave boy Harold with me, who often prays (yes, before and since) with a true and sincere heart - was it crime in him? If so, why can he pray the same? I do not wish to shed a drop of blood, but I must fight the course 'Tis all that's left me." These are the last words in the diary, and probably the last he ever wrote, as he was shot very shortly afterward. File at: http://files.usgwarchives.net/nc/statewide/newspapers/johnwilk38nnw.txt This file has been created by a form at http://www.genrecords.net/ncfiles/ File size: 4.7 Kb