Robin Wright and James McAvoy in The Conspirator (2011) |
Robert
Redford's latest film, The Conspirator — released just days after the
Sesquicentennial of the attack on Fort Sumter, the Civil War's start — stirred
many childhood memories.
My great-grandmother, Lillian Webster Keane (pictured left), who was a longtime Washingtonian, frequently spoke about the injustice the film portrays.
Fittingly, The Conspirator opened April 15 — the same day, 146 years earlier, President Abraham Lincoln was celebrating the end of the Civil War.
The bloody conflict that ripped our nation apart for four years,
North against South, was now over — ending officially on April 9, 1865, when
Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee surrendered at Appomattox Courthouse to Union
Gen. Ulysses S. Grant.
After enjoying a pleasant carriage ride with first lady Mary Todd
Lincoln, soaking in springtime Washington, this president, a lover of
literature, was soaking in Our American Cousin at his box in the new
Ford's Theatre.
Of course, drama of an epic nature would soon envelop the
audience, when Confederate sympathizer John Wilkes Booth, a well-known actor
and familiar face at the theater, slipped into Lincoln's box and fatally shot
him, yelling, "Sic semper tyrannus" (thus always to tyrants),
as he plunged onto the stage and injured his leg, limping to his well-planned
escape.
In the ensuing investigation into the tragedy, Mary Surratt, a
Maryland Catholic, was accused and convicted of conspiring to kill the
president. She was executed by hanging on July 7, 1865. She is played by Robin
Wright in Redford's film.
Lillian Webster knew Father Jacob Walter, who was close to
Surratt. (In fact, he heard Surratt's last confession before she was executed.)
Lillian said Father Walter always contended, "They hung an innocent
woman."
Ironically, Lincoln foreshadowed this injustice.
As he wrote to close friend Joshua Speed 10 years earlier,
"As a nation, we began by declaring that 'All men are created equal.' When
the Know-Nothings get control, it will read 'All men are created equal, except
Negroes and foreigners and Catholics.' When it comes to this, I shall prefer
emigrating to some country where they make no pretense of loving liberty — to
Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base
alloy of hypocrisy."
My great-grandmother's father, Bradshaw Hall Webster, had worked on Lincoln's presidential campaign fresh out of college. In the course of campaigning, this son of the North met my great-great-grandmother, Martha Mungen Starrett, whose family owned a plantation in Jacksonville, Fla.
When Bradshaw's lumber mill in Orono, Maine, burned down, he took
up the cause of temperance, as a "writer and orator," traveling up
and down the Eastern seaboard. After Martha died in 1881, the 33rd-degree Mason
remarried — of all things, a Catholic, whom he met through the convent school
his daughters attended.
Lillian, born in 1878, was only 3 at the time of her father's
remarriage, and she soon became a Catholic. She noted in her diary how the faith
"lightened the burdens of life." In 1888, after President Benjamin
Harrison's election, Bradshaw moved his family to Washington.
So it is that my "blue blood" great-grandmother, related
to Daniel Webster and President William Henry Harrison, grew up in a social and
cultural milieu in which the Civil War conflict still burned brightly so many
years later.
She mingled with Washington's Catholic community, which included
friends of the wrongfully accused and executed Southern sympathizer Mary
Surratt, and dated the son of Dr. Samuel Mudd, the doctor who set Booth's
broken leg.
After Lincoln's assassination, the desire for retribution was so intense, a kangaroo military tribunal, portrayed in The Conspirator, sent Surratt to her death — a fate she faced with faith, clinging to her constantly held rosary beads and praying until the end.
As my great-grandmother always wisely counseled, "Two wrongs don't make a right."
Her daughter, my grandmother Helena (shown left), like Surratt, died much too
young — the victim not of injustice, but of a heart weakened by rheumatic fever
that just stopped one day, on the way home from grandma's, as she held my
mother, then 6 months old, in her arms.
Like Dr. Mudd, whose ancestors have tried in vain posthumously to
overturn his conviction — though President Andrew Johnson pardoned him in 1869
largely because of his work saving yellow-fever victims at his military prison,
as portrayed in The Prisoner of Shark Island (1936) — Mary Surratt's
name is still mud — something The Conspirator will hopefully help
correct.
Thus would she finally rest in peace right there in Mount Olivet
Cemetery in Northeast Washington, not far from where my grandmother Helena is
buried.
"The Conspirator" DVD is being released on August 16,
2011.