October 31, 2020

Haunted History – Clara Harris and Henry Rathbone: Henry’s Descent to Madness

Elizabeth H. Boots, Heels on the Battlefield, Shoe Bliss, Uncategorized, Washington DC .44 Deringer, 12th US Infantry, Abraham Lincoln Assassination, Antietam Battlefield, April 14 1865, Boot season, Booth Knife, Boots, Civil War, Clara Rathbone, Easy Outfits, Fall Fashion, Fall Foliage, Fashion Blogger, ghosts, Henry and Clara by Thomas Mallon, Henry Rathbone, Henry RIggs Rathbone, John Wilkes Booth, Lincoln's Ghost, Loudon Cottage, Manhunt by James L. Swanson, Mental Illness, Middle Bridge, Our American Cousin, Paranormal, PTSD, Shoe Blogger, Vince Camuto Addiena Peep-Toe Booties, Vince Camuto boots, Vince Camuto Peep Toe Boots, what to wear, Worst Seat in the House by Caleb Jenner Stephens 34 Comments

April 11, 1865:  Washington DC socialite, Miss Clara Harris, was at the White House listening to President Abraham Lincoln address a mostly jubilant crowd.  Just a few days before, Confederate General, Robert E. Lee, surrendered his Army of Northern Virginia to Union General, Ulysses S. Grant, at Appomattox Court House.  This surrender marked the beginning of the end for the Confederacy and the long fought Civil War. 

Clara gazed out at the throngs and caught sight of a handsome face in that mass.  Celebrity stage actor and Southern Sympathizer, John Wilkes Booth, was in attendance with a friend. Booth, unimpressed, seethed to his friend, “Now, by God, I’ll put him through.  This is the last speech he will ever make.”  For Booth believed the South’s misfortune was temporary, an irritating inconvenience that he and his conspirators would soon remedy.

 

Booth’s eyes wandered and caught a fleeting glimpse of a young woman staring at him.  Being a famous actor, he was used to the attention and thought little of this forgettable girl.  Clara, embarrassed at her foolishness, quickly disappeared from view.  With flushed cheeks, Clara reminded herself that she was a respectable woman who only had eyes for her fiancé, Major Henry Reed Rathbone.

 

It was now evening on Good Friday (April 14) and Henry beamed lovingly as his darling, Clara, twirled in her white satin dress.  Her presence was his sanctuary from the flashbacks of war that haunted him.  Nonetheless, tonight, those images had subsided.  Tonight, he and his Clara would join the president and first lady at Ford’s Theater to watch Our American Cousin.    

Henry caught Clara, drew her close, and gave her a kiss.  “You look beautiful, my love.” 

Clara smiled with appreciation and then exclaimed, “Oh, Henry!  We’ll be the talk of the town!  We’ll surely make the papers!”   

Henry chuckled, but before he could respond, the Lincolns’ carriage arrived to pick them up.  Ford’s Theater was only a few minutes away, but they were still a tad late.  Henry and Clara followed behind Lincoln and Mary Todd as they were quietly escorted to the Presidential box on the second level.

When the lead actress caught sight of Lincoln, she paused the performance in reverence.  As if on cue, the orchestra began playing ‘Hail to the Chief.’  Touched, Lincoln waved at the boisterous audience to show his gratitude.  Clara, delighted at the attention, whispered to Henry, “Everyone is looking at us!”  The two were clearly enjoying the moment as they proceeded to the Presidential box. 

Some time later, the play was in its third act.  Lincoln leaned forward as the main actor yapped, “Don’t know the manners of good society, eh?  Well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal – you sockdologizing old mantrap!” 

The audience fell over in laughter and in that same moment, Henry heard a loud POP, similar to fireworks.  Then, the smell of gunpowder filled the air as blue-gray smoke permeated the Presidential box like a thick fog.

Henry’s military instincts sensed danger.  He quickly peered left to where the sound came from and through the hazy smoke locked eyes with John Wilkes Booth.  Booth had fatally shot President Lincoln!  The .44-calliber ball of his Deringer penetrated Lincoln’s head below his left ear and became trapped in his brain behind his right eye. 

The Major was shocked by the anger and evil in Booth’s eyes.  He had to apprehend the assassin!  The two collided as Booth screeched, “FREEDOM!”  A violent struggle ensued between the two men, but Booth successfully extricated himself from Rathbone’s clutch.  He then raised his arm revealing a large dagger and immediately thrust the knife with all his might towards Rathbone’s chest.  However, the Major’s quick reflex parried the strike by raising his left arm in defense.  The blade tore a long gash in his arm from his elbow to his shoulder, cutting so deep, it grazed the bone.  Rathbone doubled over in pain as blood came gushing out.

Booth ran towards the front of the Presidential box.  He glanced at Rathbone, who refused to give up and was in hot pursuit, before leaping to the stage.  Rathbone grabbed at Booth’s clothes, but could not hold on.  The tussle caused Booth’s foot to get tangled in the curtain or perhaps Old Glory herself before landing awkwardly on stage and breaking his left leg. 

“SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS” Booth shouted! 

The audience was dumbfounded.  Some thought Booth’s stunt was part of the performance and cheered in delight.  Others knew something was off.  While the rest sat in paralyzed silence.  

Henry’s booming voice beseeched the crowd:  “STOP THAT MAN!!!”

Booth smirked at Henry and then turned back to the captivated audience.  He delivered his last line with devastating accuracy, “The South is avenged!” before disappearing from view.  Booth would be dead 12 days later.

The crowd’s trance was finally broken when Clara screamed, “The President is shot!” 

Henry survived that night, but barely.  He bled profusely and even fainted at one point.  Fortunately, Clara’s quick thinking saved Henry’s life when she used her handkerchief as a tourniquet and applied it to Henry’s laceration. 

Clara looked at herself.  When Henry was slashed, his blood squirted on her hands, her face, her hair, everywhere!  Her beautiful white satin dress was stained with blood.  And the screams from Mary Todd were still very much alive in her mind:  “Oh!  My husband’s blood, my dear husband’s blood!”  Unbeknownst to Mrs. Lincoln, the blood on Clara’s dress was actually Henry’s blood.

Interestingly, Clara never washed or destroyed the dress.  Instead, she kept it in a closet at her family’s summer cottage in Loudonville, NY.  She was at the cottage on the one-year anniversary of Lincoln’s assassination. 

That night, Clara was awakened by what sounded like laughter from a distance and the creaking of a rocking chair.  Creak…creak…creak…Clara focused her tired eyes on the rocking chair in her dark room.  She could tell it was moving.  When her eyes finally adjusted, she was astonished to see President Lincoln in her rocking chair.  He was facing the closet where her blood-stained dress was hanging and rocking back and forth, laughing at some performance he was watching. 

“Mr. President?” she mumbled.   

President Lincoln turned his head to look at her and then vanished at the stroke of Midnight. The rocking chair was still rocking. 

Clara jumped out of bed and ran out of her room.  She relayed the story to her family, but no one believed her.  They all insinuated it was just a bad dream, but she knew it wasn’t.  However, rather than get rid of the dress, Clara “buried” the dress by enclosing it in a brick tomb in her closet.  In 1910, her eldest son removed the bricks, retrieved the dress, and burned it noting it had been a curse to his family.      

 

Henry never forgave himself for failing to save the President.  He re-lived the less than 30-second clip in his mind over and over again.  Yet, the outcome was always the same, Lincoln died, Booth got away, and it was all his fault.  It didn’t matter to him that he defended his country in countless grisly Civil War battles, when he had failed his country in the one battle that truly mattered.  He was an abject failure.  He should have died, not Lincoln.  At least, that’s what he told himself during periods when he felt especially hopeless. 

Henry did have some happiness in his life.  He finally married his sweetheart, Clara.  She was still his sanctuary during dark moments.  He could not imagine a life without his dear wife.  Their love produced three children and they had many good days splitting their time between the U.S. and Europe.

However, Henry’s mental instability continued to worsen and on top of that, he suffered from a severe form of dyspepsia, a type of indigestion. And, Henry was still obsessed with the night Lincoln died.  No matter the conversation, he would always steer talk back to that fateful night.  It made family and friends uncomfortable.  It’s no wonder Henry could not find gainful employment or secure consular posts despite letters of recommendations from the likes of Generals Ambrose Burnside and William Sherman.  So, the family lived mostly off his large inheritance.

Even Clara wasn’t immune to Henry’s paranoia anymore.  There was a time when her love and gentleness could coax him off that mental ledge, but he was too far gone now.  Henry was drinking too much, gambling, using drugs, and womanizing.  He was prone to violent outbursts, depression, and delusions.  He often accused Clara of taking the kids and leaving him.  Yes, Clara had considered it, but ultimately loved Henry too much and wanted to keep her family together.  Despite her reassurances, Henry was not convinced and would often be depressed at the thought of losing his family.  Yet, he was also very envious of all the attention Clara gave their children. 

The family was living in Hanover, Germany when Henry finally snapped in the early morning hours of December 23, 1883.  He quietly rose out of bed and got dressed.  He picked up his revolver and walked down the hallway to his children’s room.  Clara’s sister, Louise, was the children’s nanny and was sleeping with them.  Henry knocked on the door waking Louise from her slumber.  He could hear her stir out of bed and walk towards the door. 

“Open the door, Louise, I want to see the children.” 

Louise, feeling threatened, told Henry the children were still asleep. 

Henry insisted, “Open the door, Louise.” 

So, she hesitantly cracked open the door, but Clara, hearing the commotion, arrived just in time to guide Henry back to their room.  She told Louise to lock the door and protect the children.  Louise did as instructed, fearful for all their lives. 

Back in the master bedroom, Henry locked the door.  Clara told him to put the gun down, but he refused telling her it was the only way for all of them to be together.  It was the only way to make the voices in his head stop.  Henry became incoherent.  Clara pleaded, but her appeals were futile as she listened to the ramblings of a madman… 

“You’re going to leave me and take the children…I couldn’t save him…Why do you stay with such a coward…I love you, Clara…I won’t let you leave me…Why couldn’t I stop him…Clara, don’t leave me…I love you, Clara…”

Clara knew she was in danger, but her main concern was the safety of her children.  So, she remained locked in the bedroom and let Henry continue his hysteria.  Then, Henry stopped speaking and that truly scared her.

He now looked at her with so much rage in his eyes and that brought Clara back to that night at Ford’s Theater when John Wilkes Booth looked at her Henry with the same stare.

Clara screamed!

“NOOOOOOOO!!!  OH, HENRY, LET ME LIVE!!!”

Henry ignored Clara’s pleas and shot his wife in the chest two times.  She fell onto their bed awash in blood.  As she lay dying, her eyes begged Henry to stop, but he wasn’t looking at her.  He was so focused on the knife, the same way Booth was, as he plunged the knife into her heart.  Yet, unlike himself, Clara did not have the same reflex or the strength to parry the strike.  She died almost instantly.    

Henry then pulled the knife out of her heart and stabbed himself five times in the chest in an attempted murder suicide. 

Henry survived his suicide attempt, but had no recollection of murdering his wife.  He told the police intruders were the culprit.  He was arrested and declared insane.  In lieu of a trial, Henry was committed to an insane asylum in Hildesheim, Germany where he lived out the remaining years of his life in a peaceful and comfortable setting, though his mind never found peace from his paranoia.      

When Henry died in 1911, he was buried next to his beloved Clara in Engesohde Cemetery in Hanover, Germany.  The couple lay side by side until 1952 when cemetery management reviewed their records and noticed payments were not made to keep their burial plot.  So, their bodies were exhumed and relocated lower in their plot to make room for paying customers.  Their headstones were discarded erasing any trace of them at that cemetery.  It is a sad conclusion that even in death, Henry could not find eternal peace.  Or perhaps, being erased and forgotten is exactly what Henry had always longed for since that fateful night at Ford’s Theater.  What do you think?

And for those interested, I found video of a man who witnessed Lincoln’s assassination when he was a little boy.  It’s an amazing clip and exemplifies how close we are to this period in American history!

 

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!  🙂

Author’s Note:  Last year, I stumbled upon a Youtube vid about Henry and Clara Rathbone.  It was right up my alley with the paranormal piece, but it was also a compelling story of how trauma can affect the human psyche.  By all accounts, Henry and Clara should have had that perfect life.  They were in love and looked forward to being married and starting their life together.  Then, John Wilkes Booth’s horrific action robbed them of that happiness.  To me, when Booth assassinated Lincoln, he also killed everyone else in that box because all their lives ended tragically.  Even Mary Todd went crazy and was temporarily admitted to an insane asylum.  Although, there are tons of books written about the Lincoln assassination, Henry and Clara’s story has been mostly lost to time.  There are only a handful of books written about them.  Along with internet research, I read ‘Worst Seat in the House‘ by Caleb Jenner Stephens.  I liked how well he researched their story, but I would have liked it better minus all the PTSD he was trying to prove.  There is also a historical fiction novel called ‘Henry and Clara‘ by Thomas Mallon.  I skimmed through parts of it for reference and plan to read the book in its entirety.  Manhunt by James L. Swanson was a book of reference too (I haven’t read it completely yet).  All three books had the same facts for the most part, but there were slight differences in telling the story.  The authors took some artistic license as did I.  This version is my interpretation while remaining close to the facts.   

Lizzy’s Latest Note:  Of course, I had to add a pair of heels to the mix.  😉 This photo shoot is from the vault.  It was taken in the fall of 2018!  We were in another part of Antietam Battlefield enjoying the fall foliage.  I decided to share this heel/outfit combo in honor of Henry Rathbone’s service. He was a Captain at that time and commanded Company C in defense of Middle Bridge, just up the river from Burnside Bridge (Lower Bridge).   I don’t remember too much from this photo shoot other than the weather cooperated.  My peep-toe booties are the Vince Camuto’s Addiena in olive grey and I still have this pair.  Enjoy the pics!  🙂