History's Villains And The Moments That Made Them Infamous.

Preston Brooks

Charles Sumner's hands shook. 

"Preston, I'm sorry," he begged. "I didn't mean it! I take it back! I take it back!"

His cousin's eyes bore into him. He held a metal walking cane in his right hand, which he had raised above his head. 

"You brought this upon yourself. You should've known better than to embarrass us like that!"

Over in the corner, his accomplice, Laurence Keitt, could be heard threatening other Senators with a pistol in an effort to keep them from helping Sumner. Preston Brooks reared back and swung the cane towards Sumner's head, his eyes narrowed in determination. Sumner's eyes widened with terror as he shrank away. 

The metal clanked hard against Sumner's head. He fell to the ground in agony, blood spilling from his scalp. Another swift hit to the skull and he was out cold. 

****************************************************************************

Preston looked down. He'd done it. He'd actually knocked out his cousin. He felt guilt, sympathy, and terror all at once, but most of all, he felt anger. Hot, flustering anger that coursed through his veins like fire. Instead of slowing down, Preston lifted his cane and hit him again. And again. And again. Sweet, sweet revenge.

Whenever a seed of guilt would creep it's way into his thoughts, Preston would remind himself that Charles had brought this upon himself. He had insulted the South's way of life. He had used vulgar words calling Southern slave owners "hirelings picked from the drunken spew and vomit of an uneasy civilization." This was the action that needed to be taken.

After Preston felt Charles had suffered a sufficient beating, he took his bloody walking stick and left, Keitt, his accomplice, following him. After they had left the building, Keitt gave him a curt nod. Preston returned it grimly, and they went their separate ways, back to their own lives. Today, Preston thought, justice has been served.