The Spy of the Rebellion
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Title: The Spy of the Rebellion
Author: Allan Pinkerton
Release date: January 15, 2011 [eBook #34973]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/34973
Credits: Produced by Suzanne Shell, Josephine Paolucci and the
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPY OF THE REBELLION ***
Produced by Suzanne Shell, Josephine Paolucci and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
THE SPY OF THE REBELLION
[Illustration: _Frontispiece._ P. 158.
_Allan Pinkerton and General McClellan in Private Consultation._]
THE
SPY OF THE REBELLION;
BEING
A TRUE HISTORY
OF THE
SPY SYSTEM OF THE UNITED STATES
ARMY
DURING THE LATE REBELLION.
REVEALING MANY SECRETS OF THE WAR HITHERTO NOT MADE PUBLIC.
_COMPILED FROM OFFICIAL REPORTS_
PREPARED FOR
PRESIDENT LINCOLN, GENERAL McCLELLAN AND THE PROVOST-MARSHAL-GENERAL.
BY
ALLAN PINKERTON,
WHO
(UNDER THE NOM-DE-PLUME OF MAJOR E. J. ALLEN)
WAS
CHIEF OF THE UNITED STATES SECRET SERVICE.
_WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS._
Introduction by Patrick Bass
University of Nebraska Press
Lincoln and London
Introduction copyright (C) 1989 by the University of Nebraska Press
All rights reserved
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Bison Book printing: 1989
Most recent printing indicated by the last digit below:
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Pinkerton, Allan, 1819-1884.
The spy of the rebellion: being a true history of the spy system of
the United States Army during the late rebellion, revealing many
secrets of the war hitherto not made public / by Allan Pinkerton:
introduction by Patrick Bass.
p. cm.
"Compiled from official reports prepared for President Lincoln,
General McClellan, and the provost-marshal-general."
Reprint. Originally published: Hartford, Conn.: M. A. Winter &
Hatch, 1883.
ISBN 0-8032-3686-7 (alk. paper) ISBN 0-8032-8722-4 (pbk.)
1. United States--History--Civil War, 1861-1865--Secret service.
2. United States--History--Civil War, 1861-1865--Personal narratives.
3. Pinkerton, Allan, 1819-1884. I. Title.
E608.P65 1989
973.7'86--dc20 89-33081 CIP
Reprinted from the 1883 edition published by M. A. Winter & Hatch,
Hartford, Connecticut. An appendix, "Rebel Forces before Richmond,"
has been omitted from this Bison Book edition.
CONTENTS.
_Introduction_ 17
_Preface_ 23
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
_An Unwritten Page of History.--A Political Resume.--Abraham
Lincoln is Elected President._ 33
CHAPTER II.
_Opposition to Mr. Lincoln's Inauguration.--A Plot to
Assassinate him.--The Journey from Springfield,
Illinois._ 45
CHAPTER III.
_The Conspirators at Work.--Detectives on their Trail.--Webster
as a Soldier._ 58
CHAPTER IV.
_The Conspirators in Council.--My Operative Joins the
Conspiracy._ 74
CHAPTER V.
_The Presidential Party Arrives in Philadelphia.--Independence
Hall.--The Departure from Harrisburg.--Telegraph
Wires Cut.--Through the Lines of Treason.--Safe
Arrival at Washington._ 81
CHAPTER VI.
_My Connection with the Rebellion.--Timothy Webster
Accepts a Mission._ 104
CHAPTER VII.
_Webster on his Way to the Capital.--Wrecked Trains
and Broken Bridges.--An Adventure with a Cavalryman.--A
Rebel Emissary.--President Lincoln
and Timothy Webster_. 114
CHAPTER VIII.
_Timothy Webster in Washington.--The Return to Philadelphia.--I
go to the Capital.--An Important Letter_. 131
CHAPTER IX.
_An Adventure in Pittsburg.--A Mob at Bay.--An Explanation.--Good
Feeling Restored._ 142
CHAPTER X.
_General McClellan in Command of Ohio.--I am Engaged
for the War.--The Secret Service.--A Consultation.--Webster
Starts for Rebeldom._ 151
CHAPTER XI.
_Webster Fraternizes with the Rebel Officers.--A Secession
Hat.--A Visit to a Rebel Camp.--"The Committee
of Safety."--A Friendly Stranger.--A
Warning.--The Escape._ 168
CHAPTER XII.
_I Take a Trip to the South.--Danger in Memphis.--A
Timely Warning.--A Persistent Barber.--An Unfortunate
Memory.--Return to Cincinnati._ 182
CHAPTER XIII.
_East and West Virginia.--Seceding from Secession.--My
Scouts in Virginia.--A Rebel Captain Entertains
"My Lord."--An Old Justice dines with
Royalty.--A Lucky Adventure.--A Runaway Horse.--A
Rescue._ 203
CHAPTER XIV.
_The Rebels Attempt to Occupy West Virginia.--General
McClellan Ordered to Drive Them Out.--Early
Battles.--The Federals Victorious.--West Virginia
Freed from Rebel Soldiers._ 227
CHAPTER XV.
_General McClellan is Called to Washington, and Placed
in Command of the Armies after the Battle of Bull
Run.--The Secret Service Department.--Its Duties
and Responsibilities._ 237
CHAPTER XVI.
_A Female Traitor.--Suspicious Correspondence.--A Close
Watch under Difficulties.--I am Arrested.--Exposure
of the Treason of a Trusted Officer.--A Disgraced
Captain._ 250
CHAPTER XVII.
_Timothy Webster in Baltimore.--An Encounter with a
Fire-eater.--Webster Defends Himself.--Treason
Rampant in the Monumental City._ 271
CHAPTER XVIII.
_Webster Makes a Journey to the South.--A Secret Organization.--The
"Knights of Liberty."--Webster Becomes
a Member.--A Sudden Intrusion of the Military.--The
Conspiracy Broken Up._ 283
CHAPTER XIX.
_Suspicions in Washington.--"Uncle Gallus."--Property
Searched.--A Rebel Family sent South.--Webster
Starts for Richmond._ 301
CHAPTER XX.
_The Spy at Richmond.--Earthworks Around the Rebel
Capital.--An Unexpected Meeting.--Pistols for Two.--A
Reconciliation.--Safe Return to Washington._ 314
CHAPTER XXI.
_Again in Baltimore.--A Warning.--The Spy is Arrested.--And
Escapes._ 326
CHAPTER XXII.
_Webster and Scobell.--A Negro as a Spy.--A Traitor
Deserts from the Army.--He Carries Dispatches to
the Rebels.--Which Fail of Their Destination.--An
Attack in the Woods.--"The Loyal League."--Slaves
as Patriots._ 343
CHAPTER XXIII.
_A Negro Spy.--Passage on a Steam-Packet.--Lyrical
Melodies.--Scobell Deserts the Ship.--His Tramps
Through Rebeldom._ 358
CHAPTER XXIV.
_A Perilous Ride.--A Suspicious Peddler.--Uncle Gallus
Again.--Scobell Investigating.--Doubts and Suspicions._ 367
CHAPTER XXV.
_The Journey Resumed.--A Midnight Pursuit.--A Brave
Woman.--A Deadly Encounter.--Scobell Defends
Himself.--Death of a Rebel Spy._ 381
CHAPTER XXVI.
_A Woman's Discoveries.--An Infernal Machine.--The
Shipping in Danger.--Discovery and Destruction of
the Submarine Battery._ 394
CHAPTER XXVII.
_"Stuttering Dave."--His Tramp Through the Rebel
Lines.--An Ammunition Train.--"Dave's" Plan
Succeeds in its Destruction.--A Man who Stuttered
and "Had Fits."_ 404
CHAPTER XXVIII.
_Another Trip to Richmond.--A Rebel General Taken In.--Curtis
Makes Valuable Acquaintances.--"The
Subterranean Headquarters."_ 414
CHAPTER XXIX.
_A Virginia Home.--Unwelcome Visitors.--Mr. Harcourt
Arrested and Released.--Dan McCowan makes Forcible
Love to Mary Harcourt.--The Girl in Peril.--A
Timely Rescue.--The Villain Punished._ 429
CHAPTER XXX.
_Curtis Again on His Travels.--A Loving Episode.--Dan
McCowan Again Turns up.--The Capture of Curtis.--A
Fight for Life.--And Escape.--A Bit of Matrimony._ 445
CHAPTER XXXI.
_McClellan and his Enemies.--The Peninsula Campaign.--The
Rebel Forces Before Richmond.--The Union
Forces Outnumbered by the Enemy, and their Commander
Hampered by Superiors.--An Honest Opinion._ 457
CHAPTER XXXII.
_Webster's Expedition.--His Gallantry.--A Stormy Passage.--A
Mysterious Package.--Treason Discovered and Punished._ 468
CHAPTER XXXIII.
_Activity in Washington.--Webster's Journey Through the
South.--His Return to the Capital._ 481
CHAPTER XXXIV.
_Webster's Last Mission.--Anxiety at his Long Absence.--No
Tidings of the Faithful Scout.--Operatives Sent
in Search of Him.--Webster Ill in Richmond._ 485
CHAPTER XXXV.
_McClellan and the Government.--Lewis and Scully Arrested
as Spies.--An Attempted Escape.--Trial and
Conviction.--Condemned to Die.--Before the Gallows
their Mouths are Opened._ 498
CHAPTER XXXVI.
_Webster Arrested as a Spy.--A Woman's Devotion, and
a Patriot's Heroism.--Webster is Convicted.--The
Execution.--A Martyr's Grave._ 530
CHAPTER XXXVII.
_The Defeat of General Pope at the Second Battle of
Manassas.--McClellan Again Called to the Command.--The
Battle of Antietam.--A Union Victory.--A Few
Thoughts About the Union Commander.--McClellan's
Removal from Command, and His Farewell
Address._ 561
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
_General Burnside in Command.--My Connection with the
Secret Service Severed.--Reflections upon Important
Events.--Conclusion._ 579
_APPENDIX._ 587
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
ALLAN PINKERTON AND GENERAL MCCLELLAN
IN PRIVATE CONSULTATION. _Frontispiece_
THE OATH TO ASSASSINATE THE PRESIDENT. 65
SWEARING IN OF HOWARD. 76
LINCOLN RAISING THE OLD FLAG. 87
THE DEPARTURE FOR WASHINGTON. 94
SAFE ARRIVAL. 98
ATTEMPT TO CAPTURE WEBSTER. 146
A VISIT TO A REBEL CAMP. 171
TIMELY WARNING. 195
THE BARBER'S RECOGNITION. 201
AN ENGLISH LORD AND A REBEL CAPTAIN. 215
CAPTURED BY THE GUARDS. 260
AN ENCOUNTER WITH A FIRE-EATER. 277
A SUDDEN INTRUSION OF THE MILITARY. 299
THE SPY IS ARRESTED. 334
ESCAPE OF THE SPY. 339
SCOBELL ENGAGED AS DECK-HAND ON A STEAMBOAT. 364
DEATH OF A REBEL SPY. 389
TIMELY INTERRUPTION TO A LOVE SCENE. 441
WEBSTER'S GALLANT BRAVERY. 474
WEBSTER DISCOVERS A MYSTERIOUS PACKAGE. 475
THE PRISONERS RECAPTURED. 522
WEBSTER'S DEATH WARRANT. 542
A NARROW ESCAPE. 569
PREFACE.
Nearly a score of years have passed since the occurrence of the events
related in the following pages. The "Rebellion," with its bloody scenes,
has ended, and the country is at peace. The grass is waving green and
beautiful over many Southern fields that once ran with human blood, as
the contending forces met in the deadly encounter. The birds are
carolling sweetly in the air, which then was laden with the clarion
notes of the trumpet; the fierce, wild yell of assaulting soldiery; the
booming of cannon, and the groans of the wounded and dying. The
merchant, the mechanic, and the husbandman have returned to the pursuits
which they followed before the dark clouds of war had overshadowed this
fair land, and they shouldered their muskets in defense of the Union.
From the desolation and the ravages of war, the country has emerged into
the sunshine of abiding peace, and now, in the evening twilight, the
gray-haired veterans gather around their family hearthstones to repeat
the stories of bravery and devotion associated with those trying hours
of their country's history.
In the twilight of my days I have been tempted to the recitals which
follow, and in relating my experiences as the Chief of the Secret
Service of the Government during the Rebellion, I have been governed by
a desire to acquaint the public with the movements of those brave men
who rendered invaluable service to their country, although they never
wore a uniform or carried a musket. Working quietly, and frequently
under disguises, their assistance to the Union commanders was of
incalculable advantage, and many acts of courage and daring were
performed by these men which, until now, have never been revealed.
Indeed, as to my own _nom-de-plume_, "E. J. Allen," many of the officers
of the army and officials of the Government, with whom I was in constant
communication, never knew me by any other name, and the majority of them
are to this day in ignorance of the fact that E. J. Allen, late Chief of
the Secret Service, and Allan Pinkerton are one and the same person.
During the progress of the struggle, and the years which have since
elapsed, many of my old acquaintances, who held important positions in
the army and in governmental departments, have passed away from earth.
Some of them falling in the heat of battle, in the courageous discharge
of duty, while others, passing through the fiery ordeal, have died amid
the comforts and the charms of home.
President Lincoln, Edwin M. Stanton, William H. Seward and Salmon P.
Chase, all giants in their day, have departed from the sphere of their
usefulness, and have gone to their long home. Soldiers and civilians,
generals and privates, with whom I was connected, and their name is
legion, have taken up their journey to "that bourne from whence no
traveler e'er returns."
In detailing the various events which follow, I have been careful to
offer nothing but that which actually transpired. I have avoided giving
expression to any thoughts or feelings of antagonism to the South,
because the time for such utterances has passed. Indeed, except for the
existence of slavery, I always cherished a warm affection for the
Southern people. But this institution of human bondage always received
my most earnest opposition. Believing it to be a curse to the American
nation, and an evidence of barbarism, no efforts of mine were ever
spared in behalf of the slave, and to-day I have not a single regret for
the course I then pursued.
Many times before the war, when I was associated with those
philanthrophic spirits who controlled the so-called "Underground
Railroad," I have assisted in securing safety and freedom for the
fugitive slave, no matter at what hour, under what circumstances, or at
what cost, the act was to be performed. John Brown, the white-haired
abolitionist of Kansas fame, was my bosom friend; and more than one dark
night has found us working earnestly together in behalf of the fleeing
bondman, who was striving for his liberty. After his gallant effort at
Harper's Ferry, and while he was confined in a Virginia prison, my
efforts in his behalf were unceasing; and had it not been for the
excessive watchfulness of those having him in charge, the pages of
American history would never have been stained with a record of his
execution. As it is, though his fate may have been in accordance with
the decrees of the laws then existing, I can recall with all the old
enthusiasm that I then experienced, the thundering effect of thousands
of our brave "boys in blue," joining in that electric war cry, the
refrain of which was:
"John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave,
But his soul goes marching along,"
while they hurried in solid phalanx to meet the enemy upon the field of
battle.
In the preliminary chapters, I have detailed with accuracy the facts
connected with the conspiracy to assassinate Abraham Lincoln, when he
was first elected to the Presidency. The part I took in discovering the
existence of that plot and the efforts of my men in ferreting out the
prime movers of that murderous compact, are told for the first time in
these pages, and the correctness of their relation is undoubted; though
in the dark days that followed, the bullet of the assassin removed the
martyred President, while engaged in the fulfillment of his mission. I
cannot repress a sense of pride in the fact, that at the commencement of
his glorious career I had averted the blow that was aimed at his honest,
manly heart.
In the events which transpired during the years 1861 and 1862, I took an
active part. From the early days of April until after the battle of
Antietam had been fought and won, I was connected with the military
operations of the government. In Washington I acted under the directions
of the Secretaries of War, and Colonel Andrew Porter, the
provost-marshal; and in the field, I was under the immediate direction
of General George B. McClellan.
My relations with the various departments were always of the most
cordial and confidential character. To particularize in this matter is
almost impossible; but I cannot refrain from mentioning, in the highest
terms of respect and friendship, Colonel Thomas A. Scott of
Pennsylvania. In the early days of the nation's peril, he occupied the
position of Assistant Secretary of War. In him I always found a warm
friend and advocate, and in many emergencies his prompt and intelligent
action was most potent in accomplishing good results in that era of
confusion, of doubt and hesitation.
Of my service with the military department while in active duty, little
needs to be said here. From the time of his commission by Governor
Dennison of Ohio, to the day when he was relieved, after his splendid
victory at Antietam, I followed the fortunes of General McClellan. Never
doubting his ability or his loyalty--always possessing his confidence
and esteem, I am at this time proud and honored in ranking him foremost
among my invaluable friends. When secret enemies were endeavoring to
prejudice the mind of the President against his chosen commander; when
wily politicians were seeking to belittle him in the estimation of the
people, and when jealous minded officers were ignorantly criticising his
plans of campaign, General McClellan pursued his course with
unflinching courage and with a devotion to his country unsurpassed by
any who have succeeded him, and upon whose brows are entwined the
laurels of the conqueror.
His marvelous reorganization of the army, the enthusiasm with which his
presence invariably inspired the soldiers under his command, and the
grand battles which he fought against enemies in front and in rear, have
all passed into history--and to-day the intelligent and unprejudiced
reader finds in a calm and dispassionate review of his career, an ample
and overwhelming justification of his course as a loyal and capable
commander-in-chief.
Self-constituted critics, whose avenues of information were limited and
unreliable, have attempted to prove that the force opposed to General
McClellan was much less than was really the case; and upon this
hypothesis have been led into unjust and undeserved censure of the
commanding general. From my own experience, I _know_ to the contrary. My
system of obtaining knowledge upon this point was so thorough and
complete, my sources of information were so varied, that there could be
no serious mistake in the estimates which I then made and reported to
General McClellan. From every available field the facts were gleaned.
From prisoners of war, contrabands, loyal Southerners, deserters,
blockade-runners and from actual observations by trustworthy scouts, my
estimates were made, and to-day I affirm as strongly as I then did, that
the force opposed to General McClellan before Richmond approximated
nearer to 200,000 men, than they did to the numerous estimates of
irresponsible historians who have placed the strength of the rebel
forces at that time below 100,000 men. In this connection I must refer
also to the valuable assistance rendered both General McClellan and
myself by that indefatigable Aid-de-camp Colonel Key. Though he no
longer mingles with the things of earth, the memory of his devotion and
his intelligent services to the cause of the Union is imperishable. No
truer, braver man ever drew a sword than did this noble and efficient
staff officer, now deceased.
Of Timothy Webster, who so ably assisted me in my various and delicate
duties, and whose life was sacrificed for the cause he held so dear, I
have only words of warmest commendation. Brave, honest and intelligent,
he entered into the contest to perform his whole duty, and right nobly
did he fulfill his pledge. No danger was too great, no trust too
responsible, no mission too delicate for him to attempt, and though
executed as a spy in a Richmond prison, his name shall ever be
cherished with honor and friendship by those who knew his worth, and who
appreciated the unswerving devotion of a loyal heart. No dishonor can
ever attach to the memory of a patriot who died in the service of his
country.
The events narrated have all occurred. The record is a truthful one.
Although not so complete as I could wish, they must serve the purpose
for which they are intended. In the disastrous fire which swept over
Chicago in 1871, my records were mainly destroyed, and to this fact must
be attributed the failure to more elaborately detail the multitudinous
operations of my men. With the able assistance of Mr. George H. Bangs,
my efficient General Superintendent, "we did what we could," and the
approbation of our commanding officers attest the efficiency of our
efforts.
After leaving the service, the conduct of the war passed into other
hands. Other men were chosen to the command of the armies, and other
sources of information were resorted to. Succeeding battles have been
fought, defeats have been sustained, victories have been achieved, and
the war is happily ended. The slave is free, and in the enjoyment of the
rights of citizenship. The country is at peace, her prosperity is
assured, and now that passion and prejudice have died away, and honest
judgments are given of the events that have transpired, I leave to the
impartial reader, and historian, the question whether the course I
pursued, and the General whom I loved and faithfully served, are
deserving of censure, or are entitled to the praises of a free and
enlightened people.
ALLAN PINKERTON.
THE SPY
OF
THE REBELLION.
CHAPTER I.
"_An Unwritten Page of History."--A Political Resume.--Mr. Lincoln is
Elected President._
Many years have elapsed since the occurrence of the events which I am
about to relate. Years that have been full of mighty import to the
nation. A bitter, prolonged and bloody war has laid its desolating hands
upon a once united country. For years the roar of cannon and the clash
of steel reverberated through the bright valleys and the towering hills
of the fruitful South. In those years when brother arose against his
brother, when ties of kindred and association were broken asunder like
frail reeds, glorious deeds were wrought and grand results have been
accomplished. America has taught the world a lesson of bravery and
endurance; the shackles have been stricken from the slave; an error of
a century has been crushed, and freedom is now no longer an empty name,
but a beautiful and enduring realism.
To-day peace spreads her broad, sheltering arms over a reunited and
enlightened nation. The roll of the drum and the tramp of armed men are
now no longer heard. North and South have again clasped hands in a
renewal of friendship and in a perpetuity of union.
But a short time ago a Republican President elected by but a slight
majority of the voters of this great community, left his peaceful home
in the West and journeyed to the capital of the nation, to take the oath
of office and to assume the high duties of a chief magistrate. As he
passed through the towns and cities upon his route a general plaudit of
welcome was his greeting, even noted political foes joining in the
demonstrations. His road was arched with banners and his path was strewn
with flowers. Everywhere he found an enthusiasm of welcome, a universal
prayer for success, and the triumphal train entered the capital amid the
ovations of the populace, which reached almost a climax of patriotic and
effervescing joy.
Twenty years ago witnessed a different condition of affairs. The
political horizon was dark and obscured. The low mutterings of the storm
that was soon to sweep over our country, and to deluge our fair land
with fratricidal blood, were distinctly heard. Sectional differences
were developing into widespread dissensions. Cherished institutions were
threatened with dissolution, and political antagonism had aroused a
contented people into a frenzy of hate.
On the twenty-second of May, 1856, an American Senator was assaulted in
the Senate-house by a political opponent for daring to give utterance to
opinions that were hostile to the slave-holding interests of the South.
Later in the same year a Republican candidate, with professed
anti-slavery views, was nominated for the presidency, and although
defeated, gave evidence of such political strength that Southern leaders
became alarmed.
At this time the Hon. Stephen A. Douglas was a prominent leader of the
Democratic party, but through his opposition to what was known as the
Lecompton Bill, he incurred the displeasure of his political friends of
the South, who vainly endeavored to enact such legislation as would
practically lead to his retirement from the party.
In 1858 the famous contest between Abraham Lincoln and Stephen A.
Douglas for the United States Senatorship from Illinois took place, and
during its progress absorbed public attention throughout the country.
The two candidates indulged in open discussions of questions of public
policy, which were remarkable for their brilliancy and for the force and
vigor with which their different views were uttered. It was during this
canvass that Mr. Lincoln made the forcible and revolutionizing
declaration that: "_The Union cannot permanently endure half slave and
half free._" Mr. Lincoln was defeated, however, and Mr. Douglas was
returned to the Senate, much against the wishes of those Democrats who
desired the unlimited extension of the institution of Slavery.
In the following year occurred the slave insurrection in Virginia, under
the leadership of that bold abolitionist, John Brown. The movement was
frustrated, however, and John Brown, after a judicial trial for his
offense, was sentenced to be hung. Up to the day of his execution he
remained firm in the belief that he had but performed his duty toward
enslaved humanity, and he died avowing the justice of his cause and the
hope of its ultimate success.
All of these occurrences tended to engender a spirit of fierce
opposition in the minds of the Southern leaders. The growing sentiment
of abolitionism throughout the North, and the manifest disposition to
prevent its increase or extension, aroused the advocates of Slavery to a
degree of alarm, which led to the commission of many actions, both
absurd and unjustifiable.
The year of 1860 opened upon a scene of political agitation which
threatened to disrupt long united associations, and to erect sectional
barriers which appeared almost impossible to overcome.
In April, 1860, the Democratic National Convention assembled in
Charleston, South Carolina, for the purpose of nominating a candidate
for the presidency. During its session loud and angry debates occurred,
in which the Southern element endeavored to obtain a strong indorsement
of the institution of Slavery, and of the right to carry slaves into the
Territories of the United States. They were met by the more conservative
portion of the party, who desired to leave the question to be decided by
the States themselves. After a prolonged discussion the majority of the
Southern States withdrew their delegates from the convention, and the
remainder proceeded to ballot for a candidate of their choice.
After a protracted sitting, during which several ballots were taken and
no decided result obtained, the convention adjourned, to meet in the
city of Baltimore on the eighteenth day of June succeeding. Stephen A.
Douglas, of Illinois, received a large percentage of the votes that were
cast, but failed to obtain a sufficient number to secure his nomination.
The withdrawing delegates organized a rival convention, but, without
transacting any business of a decisive character, also adjourned, to
meet in Baltimore at a date nearly coincident with that of the regular
body.
On the nineteenth day of May, the Constitutional Union (being the old
American) party held their convention in the city of Baltimore, and
nominated John Bell, of Tennessee, for President, and Edward Everett,
of Massachusetts, for the Vice-Presidency.
The Republican Convention was held on the sixteenth day of May, in the
city of Chicago, and upon the third ballot nominated Abraham Lincoln, of
Illinois, for the office of President, and Hannibal Hamlin, of Maine,
for the second office.
This convention also adopted a platform very pronounced upon the subject
of Slavery, and which was calculated to give but little encouragement to
the extension or perpetuity of the slave-holding power.
On the eighteenth day of June the regular Democratic Convention
assembled, pursuant to adjournment, in the city of Baltimore, and named
Stephen A. Douglas, of Illinois, and Herschel V. Johnson, of Georgia, as
their standard-bearers in the political conflict that was to ensue.
On the twenty-eighth day of the same month the seceding delegates met in
the same city, and after pronouncing their ultra views upon the question
of Slavery, nominated John C. Breckinridge, of Kentucky (then the
Vice-President of the country), and General Joseph Lane, of Oregon, as
the candidates of their choice.
The lines of battle were now drawn, and from that time until the
election, in November, a fierce contest was waged between the opposing
parties. Never before in the history of parties was a canvass conducted
with more bitterness or with a greater amount of vituperation. The
whole country was engrossed with the gigantic struggle. Business
interests, questions of finance and of international import were all
made subservient to the absorbing consideration of the election of a
national President.
The Southern "Fire-eaters," as they were called, fully realized their
inability to elect the candidates they had named, but strove with all
their power to prevent the success of the regular Democratic nominees,
and when at last the day of election came, and the votes were counted,
it was found that the Republican party had been victorious and that
Abraham Lincoln had been elected.
In many portions of the South this result was hailed with joyful
enthusiasm. The anti-slavery proclivities of the successful party was
instantly made a plausible pretext for secession and the withdrawal of
the slave-holding States from the Union was boldly advocated.
The same power that threatened in 1856, in the words of Governor Wise of
Virginia: "That if Fremont had been elected, he would have marched at
the head of twenty thousand men to Washington, and taken possession of
the capital, preventing by force Fremont's inauguration at that
place"--was again aroused, and an open opposition to the Republican
inauguration was for a time considered.
The absorbing and exciting question in the South was: "Would the South
submit to a Black Republican President and a Black Republican
Congress?" and the answer to the question was a loud and decisive
negative.
Among the bolder advocates of secession the election of Mr. Lincoln was
regarded with pleasure, and meetings were held in Charleston, rejoicing
in the triumph of the Republican party. Secession and disunion were
loudly advocated, and the slave oligarchy of South Carolina regarded
this event as the opportunity to achieve her long-cherished purpose of
breaking up the Union, and forming a new confederacy, founded upon the
peculiar ideas of the South.
Says Horace Greeley: "Men thronged the streets, talking, laughing,
cheering, like mariners long becalmed upon a hateful, treacherous sea,
when a sudden breeze had swiftly wafted them within sight of their
looked for haven, or like a seedy prodigal, just raised to affluence by
the death of some far-off, unknown relative, and whose sense of decency
is not strong enough to repress his exultation."
Open threats were made to withdraw at once from the Union, and these
demonstrations seemed to find sympathy among other nations than our own,
and soon foreign intrigue was hand and glove with domestic treason, in
the attempt to sap the foundations of our government, and seeking
peculiar advantages from its overthrow.
It is unnecessary to detail the various phases of this great agitation,
which, firing the Southern heart with the frenzy of disunion, finally
led to the secession of the Southern States. Various compromises were
attempted, but all failed of beneficial result. The "masterly
inactivity" of the administration contributed in no small degree to the
accomplishment of this object, and in the end the Southern Confederacy
was organized and Jefferson Davis was elected as its President.
The Palmetto waved over the custom-house and post-office at Charleston;
government forts and arsenals were seized by the volunteers to the
Southern cause, and on February 1, 1861, the Federal mint and
custom-house at New Orleans were taken possession of by the
secessionists.
The removal of Major Anderson from Fort Moultrie to the more secure
stronghold of Fort Sumter, in Charleston harbor, had been accomplished,
and as yet no measures had been taken by the government to prevent
further demonstrations of a warlike character on the part of the
Southern Confederacy. The administration remained passive and inert,
while every effort was being made to calm the public fears of
hostilities, and the organization of an open revolt.
The city of Baltimore was, at this time, a slave-holding city, and the
spirit of Slavery was nowhere else more rampant and ferocious. The
mercantile and social aristocracy of that city had been sedulously and
persistently plied, by the conspirators for disunion, with artful and
tempting suggestions of her future greatness and advancement as the
chief city of the new government.
If a Confederacy composed of the fifteen slave-holding States was
organized, Baltimore, it was urged, would naturally be the chief city of
the new Republic. In time it would become the rival of New York, and
occupy to the Confederacy the same relations which New York does to the
Union, and would be the great ship-building, shipping, importing and
commercial emporium.
These glittering prophecies had not been uttered without effect. The
ambition of the aristocracy was aroused. Already they saw the ocean
whitened with her sails, and the broad domain of Maryland adorned with
the palaces reared from her ample and ever-expanding profits. Under
these hallucinations, their minds were corrupted, and they seemed eager
to rush into treason.
Being a border State, Maryland occupied a position of particular
importance. Emissaries were sent to her from South Carolina and
elsewhere, and no effort was spared to secure her co-operation in these
revolutionary movements. It is to be regretted that they were too
successful, and the result was that the majority of the wealthier
classes and those in office were soon in sympathy with the rebellion,
and the spirit of domestic treason, for a time, swept like a tornado
over the State.
Added to the wealthier classes was the mob element of the city of
Baltimore--reckless and unscrupulous, as mobs generally are--and this
portion of her community were avowedly in full accord with the
prospective movement, and ready to do the bidding of the slave power.
Between these, however, there existed a great middle class, who were
loyally and peacefully inclined. But this class, large as it was, had
hitherto been divided in their political opinions, and had as yet
arrived at no common and definite understanding with regard to the novel
circumstances of the country and the events which seemed to be visibly
impending.
The government of the city of Baltimore was under the control of that
branch of the Democracy who supported Breckinridge, and who had attained
power under a popular cry for reform, and it was soon learned that these
leaders were deep in the counsels of the secessionists.
The newspaper press was no small factor of this excitement--their
utterances had much to do in leading public opinion, and though their
efforts "to fire the Southern heart," many were led to sanction the
deeds of violence and outrage which were contemplated.
Especial efforts had been made to render Mr. Lincoln personally odious
and contemptible, and his election formed the pretexts of these reckless
conspirators, who had long been plotting the overthrow of the Union. No
falsehood was too gross, no statement too exaggerated, to be used for
that purpose, and so zealously did these misguided men labor in the
cause of disunion, and so systematically concerted was their action,
that the mass of the people of the slave States were made to believe
that this pure, patient, humane, Christian statesman was a monster whose
vices and passions made him odious, and whose political beliefs made him
an object of just abhorrence.
This was the condition of affairs at the dawning of the year 1861.
[Illustration: A COUNCIL OF WAR.]
CHAPTER II.
_Opposition to Mr. Lincoln's Inauguration.--A Plot to Assassinate
him.--The Journey from Springfield._
With the opening of the new year, the political condition evinced
alarming symptoms. As the day of the inauguration of the new President
drew near, the excitement became intense. Loud threats were made that
Mr. Lincoln should never be permitted to take the oath of office, and
the hostility of the South manifested itself in such a manner as to
excite the fears of those who desired the peaceful solution of the
important question of continued union.
The events about to be related have been for a long time shrouded in a
veil of mystery. While many are aware that a plot existed at this time
to assassinate the President-elect upon his contemplated journey to the
capital, but few have any knowledge of the mode by which the conspiracy
was detected, or the means employed to prevent the accomplishment of
that murderous design.
Considerations which affected the personal safety of those who actively
participated in this detection, precluded a disclosure at the time, but
that such a conspiracy existed no doubt can be entertained. Now,
however, that the dark clouds have passed away, and the bright sunshine
of an enduring peace is throwing its beneficent rays over a united
country, the truth may be disclosed, and a desire to peruse a hidden
page of history may now be gratified.
Early in the year 1861 I was at my headquarters in the city of Chicago,
attending to the manifold duties of my profession. I had, of course,
perused the daily journals which contained the reports of doings of the
malcontents of the South, but in common with others, I entertained no
serious fears of an open rebellion, and was disposed to regard the whole
matter as of trivial importance. The same tones had been listened to
before, and although the disunionists had hitherto never taken such
aggressive steps, I was inclined to believe that with the incoming of
the new administration, determined or conciliatory measures would be
adopted, and that secession and rebellion would be either averted or
summarily crushed.
At this time I received a letter from Mr. Samuel H. Felton, the
president of "The Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore Railroad,"
requesting my presence in Philadelphia upon a matter of great
importance. From his communication it appeared that rumors were afloat
as to the intention of the roughs and secessionists of Maryland to
injure the road of which he was the President. From what had already
been learned, it was feared that their designs were to prevent travel
upon the road either by destroying the ferry-boats which then carried
the trains across the Susquehanna river at Havre de Grace or by
demolishing the railroad bridges over the Gunpowder river and other
streams. This road was the great connecting link between the metropolis
of the country and the capital of the nation, and it was of the utmost
importance that no interruption should be permitted to the free
communication between Washington and the great cities of the North and
West.
This letter at once aroused me to a realization of the danger that
threatened the country, and I determined to render whatever assistance
was in my power towards preventing the successful operation of these
ill-advised and dangerous men.
I lost no time, therefore, in making my arrangements, and soon after
receiving Mr. Felton's communication, in company with four members of my
force was upon the train speeding towards Philadelphia. Upon arriving in
that city, I went directly to the office of Mr. Felton and obtained from
him all the information he possessed of the movements and designs of the
Maryland secessionists. I also had a consultation with Mr. H. F. Kenney,
the superintendent of the road, with reference to a plan of operation
which I proposed, and which was considered would result in obtaining the
information so much to be desired.
I resolved to locate my men at the various towns along the road,
selecting such places where, it was believed, disaffection existed.
With a view, therefore, of acquiring the facts necessary for an
intelligent prosecution of the inquiry, I took passage on one of the
trains of the road, intending to see for myself how affairs stood, and
to distribute my men in such a manner as to me seemed best.
At the city of Wilmington, in Delaware, I found evidences of a great
political excitement, but nothing that indicated a hostile disposition
or which led me to believe that any danger was to be apprehended at this
place. Nothing that savored of organization was apparent, and I was
therefore compelled to look further for the existence of any antagonism
to the railroad or any desire to prevent the running of their trains.
At Perryville I found the same excitable condition of affairs, but
nothing of a more aggressive character than at Wilmington. Men indulged
in fierce arguments, in which both sides were forcibly represented, but
aside from this I discovered no cause for apprehension, and no occasion
for active detective work as yet.
At Havre de Grace, however, the lines were more clearly drawn and the
popular feeling much more bitter. It was at this point that the boats
which carried the trains crossed the Susquehanna river, and where
serious damage might be done to the company, should the ferries be
destroyed. I therefore left one man at this place, with instructions to
become acquainted with such men as he might, on observation, consider
suspicious, and to endeavor to obtain from them, by association, a
knowledge of their intentions.
At Perrymansville, in Maryland, the feeling was considerably more
intense. Under the influence of bad men the secession movement had
gained many supporters and sympathizers. Loud threats were uttered
against the railroad company, and it was boastfully asserted that "no
d--d abolitionist should be allowed to pass through the town alive."
I have always found it a truism that "a barking dog never bites," and
although I had but little fear that these blatant talkers would perform
any dangerous deeds, I considered it best to be fully posted as to their
movements, in order to prevent a catastrophe, if possible.
I accordingly directed Timothy Webster, a daring and discreet man upon
my force, to locate himself at this point, and to carefully note
everything that transpired which had any relation to attempted violence
or a disposition to resort to aggressive measures.
As I neared the city of Baltimore the opposition to the government and
the sympathy with secession was manifestly more intense. At Magnolia,
particularly, I observed a very dangerous feeling, and among men of all
classes the general sentiment was in favor of resistance and force.
Another operative, John Seaford, was accordingly left at this place,
with instructions similar to those which had been given to the others.
I then proceeded on to Baltimore, and there I found the greatest amount
of excitement that I had yet experienced. I took quarters at the Howard
House, and proceeded to inquire closely and carefully into the political
situation. I soon found that the fears of the railroad officials were
not wholly without foundation. The opposition to Mr. Lincoln's
inauguration was most violent and bitter, and a few days' sojourn in
this city convinced me that great danger was to be apprehended, and that
the sentiment of disunion was far more widespread and deeply rooted than
I had before imagined.
The police force of the city was under the control of Marshal George P.
Kane, and was almost entirely composed of men with disunion
proclivities. Their leader was pronouncedly in favor of secession, and
by his orders the broadest license was given to disorderly persons and
to the dissemination of insurrectionary information. This individual was
subsequently arrested, and, after a brief sojourn in Fort McHenry, fled
in 1863 to the more congenial associations of Richmond.
From the knowledge I gained of the situation in Baltimore, I resolved to
establish my headquarters in that city. I accordingly engaged a building
situated on South street, and in a position where I could receive prompt
reports from all quarters of the metropolis. I also sent for an
additional force of men, whom I distributed among the people of all
grades and conditions of life. The building I had selected was admirably
adapted for my purpose, and was so constructed that entrance could be
gained to it from all four sides, through alleyways that led in from
neighboring streets.
Day by day, the reports of my men contained many important revelations
of the designs of the opposition, and as a matter of additional
precaution, I advised Mr. Felton to employ a small number of men to
guard the various bridges and ferries, who could be warned in time to
resist attack should such be made.
The chief opposition seemed to be to the inauguration of President
Lincoln, and the plan of the conspirators was to excite and exasperate
the popular feeling against the President-elect to the utmost, and so
successfully had this been done that a majority of the wealthier
classes, with few exceptions--those in office--and the mob element in
general were in full accord in their desire to prevent the inauguration
from taking place.
On the eleventh day of February, Mr. Lincoln, with a few of his personal
friends, left his quiet home in Springfield to enter upon that
tempestuous political career which eventually carried him to a martyr's
grave. Among the party who accompanied the President were Norman B.
Judd, Esq., Col. Ward H. Lamon, Judge Davis, Col. Sumner, a brave and
impetuous officer, Major Hunter, Capt. John Pope, Col. Ellsworth, whose
heroic death took place shortly afterwards, and John G. Nicolay, the
President's private secretary.
As the President was about leaving his home, the people turned out en
masse to bid him farewell, and to them Mr. Lincoln addressed the
following pathetic words of parting:
"My Friends: No one who has never been placed in a like
position can understand my feelings at this hour, nor the
oppressive sadness I feel at this parting. For more than a
quarter of a century I have lived among you, and during all
that time I have received nothing but kindness at your
hands. Here I have lived from youth until now I am an old
man; here the most sacred ties of earth were assumed; here
all my children were born, and here one of them lies buried.
To you, dear friends, I owe all that I have, and all that I
am. All the strange checkered past seems now to crowd upon
my mind. To-day I leave you. I go to assume a task more
difficult than that which devolved upon Washington. Unless
the great God who assisted him shall be with me and aid me,
I must fail; but if the same Omniscient Mind and Almighty
Arm that directed and protected him shall guide and support
me, I shall not fail--I shall succeed. Let us all pray that
the God of our fathers may not forsake us now. To Him I
commend you all. Permit me to ask that with equal sincerity
and faith you will invoke His wisdom and guidance for me.
With these few words I must leave you, for how long I know
not. Friends, one and all, I must bid you an affectionate
farewell."
How touchingly simple and earnest seem these words. A strange and almost
weird presentiment of grief and suffering give his utterances a pathos
that becomes profoundly impressive when linked with subsequent events.
How prophetic too--full of tears and fraught with the prescience of a
future terrible and bloody war--they bear yet an echo like that of the
voice that sounded in the ear of Halleck's dying hero--for surely in
their tones are heard the thanks of millions yet to be. How more than
prophetic they seemed when, four years later, "a funeral train, covered
with the emblems of splendid mourning, rolled into the same city,
bearing a corpse whose obsequies were being celebrated in every part of
the civilized world."
From Springfield the passage was a perfect continuous ovation. Cities
and towns, villages and hamlets, vied with each other in testifying
their devotion to Union and their determination to uphold the chief
magistrate in the great trial before him. Immense crowds surrounded the
stations at which the special train halted, and in the cities of
Indianapolis, Cincinnati, Columbus, Pittsburg, Cleveland, Erie, Buffalo,
Albany, New York, Trenton, Newark, Philadelphia and Harrisburg, public
demonstrations of an imposing character were given in his honor, and
vast concourses of people assembled to greet him. Everywhere he was
received and honored as the chief of a free people, and in reply to
complimentary addresses which he day by day received, the President
endeavored to utter cheering words, and indicated a disbelief in any
bloody issue of our domestic complications.
On the day prior to the departure of Mr. Lincoln from his home, I
received a letter from the master mechanic of the railroad, of which the
following is an extract:
"I am informed that a son of a distinguished citizen of
Maryland said that he had taken an oath with others to
assassinate Mr. Lincoln before he gets to Washington, and
they may attempt to do it while he is passing over our road.
I think you had better look after this man, if possible.
This information is perfectly reliable. I have nothing more
to say at this time, but will try to see you in a few days."
This communication was confirmatory of reports of an indefinite
character which had reached me prior to this, and the information was
far too important to be disregarded. I determined, therefore, to probe
the matter to the bottom, and obtaining the authority of Mr. Felton for
such action, I immediately set about the discovery of the existence of
the conspiracy and the intention of its organization, and then, if
coolness, courage and skill could save the life of Mr. Lincoln, and
prevent the revolution which would inevitably follow his violent death,
I felt sure of accomplishing it.
My plans were soon perfected, and they were to have several of my men,
together with myself, announced as residents of Charleston and New
Orleans, and by assuming to be secessionists of the most ultra type, to
secure entrance into their secret societies and military organizations,
and thus become possessed of their secret designs. In looking over the
qualifications of the members of my corps I found two men admirably
adapted to the object I had in view. They were both young and both fully
able to assume and successfully carry out the character of a
hot-blooded, fiery secessionist.
One of these men, whom I shall call Joseph Howard, was a young man of
fine personal appearance, and of insinuating manners. He was of French
descent, and in his youth had been carefully educated for a Jesuit
priest, but finding the vocation distasteful to him, he had abandoned
it. Added to his collegiate studies, he possessed the advantage of
extensive foreign travel, and the ability to speak, with great facility,
several foreign languages. He had a thorough knowledge of the South, its
localities, prejudices, customs and leading men, which had been derived
from several years residence in New Orleans and other Southern cities,
and was gifted with the power of adaptation to persons whom they wish to
influence, so popularly attributed to the Jesuits.
Howard was instructed to assume the character of an extreme
secessionist, to obtain quarters at one of the first-class hotels, and
register his name, with residence at New Orleans. This was done because
he was well acquainted with the city, having resided there for a long
time, and was consequently enabled to talk familiarly of prominent
individuals of that city whom he had met.
The other man whom I selected for this important work was Timothy
Webster. He was a man of great physical strength and endurance, skilled
in all athletic sports, and a good shot. Possessed of a strong will and
a courage that knew no fear, he was the very man to operate upon the
middle and lower classes who composed the disunion element.
His subsequent career as a Union spy--one of the most perilous and
thankless positions--and his ignominious death at Richmond, at the hands
of the rebels, have passed into history, but no historian will ever
relate the thousand perils through which he passed in the service of his
country; of his boldness and ingenuity in acquiring information that was
of incalculable value to the Union officers, nor of his wonderful
fertility of invention, which frequently enabled him to escape from
dangers which would have appalled a less brave or less devoted man.
Arrested at last, he was condemned as a spy, and on the thirtieth day of
April, 1862, he was executed in the City of Richmond, by order of
Jefferson Davis. Even then he would have succeeded in effecting a
well-devised plan of escape, had he not been rendered incapable of
movement by reason of a prostrating sickness. His name is unknown to
fame, but fewer hearts beat truer to the Union, and fewer arms performed
more devoted service in its cause, and a record of his daring and
romantic adventures as a Union spy, would certainly equal, if not
surpass, those of the Harvey Birch of Cooper.
It was not long before I received undoubted evidence of the existence of
a systematized organization whose avowed object was to assist the
rebellious States, but which was in reality formed to compass the death
of the President, and thus accomplish the separation of the States. I
learned also that a branch of this conspiracy existed at Perrymansville,
under the guise of a company of cavalry, who met frequently and drilled
regularly. Leaving Harwood to operate in Baltimore with the others, I
dispatched Timothy Webster back to Perrymansville, and in twenty-four
hours thereafter he had enrolled himself as a member of the company, and
was recognized as a hail fellow among his rebel associates.
CHAPTER III.
_The Conspirators at Work.--Detectives on Their Trail.--Webster as a
Soldier._
Every day reports would be brought to me from the numerous men I had
detailed along the line of the railroad, and regularly on alternate days
I would make the journey from Baltimore to Philadelphia for consultation
with the officers of the company.
At every visit which I made to the suspected localities, I could not
fail to notice an increase in the excitement and the indications of a
disposition to open revolt became more evident. Everywhere the ruling
principle seemed to be opposition to the new administration and a
decided inclination to aid the Confederacy. As the daily papers, which
chronicled the events which occurred upon the journey of Mr. Lincoln
towards Washington, or the desperate movements of the Southern
ringleaders, were perused by the people, or were read aloud in tavern or
store, they would be greeted by alternate expressions of hate and
malignity for the abolitionist and wild cheers for the rebellion.
This feeling, too, was largely increased by the visits which prominent
villagers would make to Baltimore, and who, upon their return, would
relate marvelous stories of what they had seen and heard of the courage,
the unity and the determination of the Southern people. Everything
calculated to inflame the popular mind was seized upon, and the
wonderful spirit of invention which these men evinced was simply
astonishing. As a consequence, the ignorant residents of these villages
and towns, having no authoritative information of their own, relied
implicitly upon the exaggerated statements and untruthful reports of
their leaders, and were kept in a condition of excitement that made them
ready tools of their unscrupulous and better-informed managers. As far
as could be learned, however, no definite plan of action had been
arranged, and no public outbreak had as yet occurred.
Barnum's Hotel, in Baltimore, appeared to be the favorite resort of the
Southern element. The visitors from all portions of the South located at
this house, and in the evenings the corridors and parlors would be
thronged by the tall, lank forms of the long-haired gentlemen who
represented the aristocracy of the slave-holding interests. Their
conversations were loud and unrestrained, and any one bold enough or
sufficiently indiscreet to venture an opinion contrary to the
righteousness of their cause, would soon find himself in an unenviable
position and frequently the subject of violence.
As this hotel was so largely patronized by the so-called "Fire-eaters,"
I instructed Howard to go there in order to secure quarters and to
ingratiate himself with these extremists. It was not long after this,
that, joining a company of gentlemen who were loudly declaiming against
the ruling powers of the country, he entered into their discussion, and
by blatant expressions of the most rebellious nature, he was warmly
welcomed by the coterie and instantly made one of their number.
Hailing as he did from New Orleans, his residence was a ready passport
to their favor and confidence, and his fine personal appearance,
gentlemanly address and the fervor of his utterances soon won the favor
of those with whom he associated. To a general inquiry he stated that
private affairs of a financial nature required his presence in
Baltimore, but as his acquaintance with the trustworthy emissaries of
rebeldom increased, he quietly insinuated that affairs of a national
character were far more dear to him than individual interests or private
concerns.
By continued intercourse with these men, he greatly increased the circle
of his acquaintances, and soon became a welcome guest at the residences
of many of the first families of that refined and aristocratic city.
Here his accomplishments appeared to the best advantage. His romantic
disposition and the ease of his manner captivated many of the
susceptible hearts of the beautiful Baltimore belles, whose eyes grew
brighter in his presence, and who listened enraptured to the poetic
utterances which were whispered into their ears under the witching spell
of music and moonlit nature.
He gradually neared the circle of which Marshal George P. Kane appeared
to be the leader, and in a short time he had succeeded in entirely
winning his confidence, and from this gentleman Howard acquired many
important items of information. The entire police force of the
city--officers and men--were in full sympathy with the rebellion, and it
became apparent to him that a strict watch was kept over every man who
expressed Northern opinions, or who was not identified with the cause
which they had espoused.
To all of these arrangements Howard signified his hearty indorsement,
and by every means in his power he sought to convince the leaders of his
full sympathy with their efforts and his resolve to take a leading part
in the struggle that seemed to be impending.
Accepting the invitation of Mr. Kane, he one evening accompanied that
gentleman to a meeting of one of the secret societies that then existed,
the first one he had succeeded in gaining entrance to. Arriving at the
place of assembly, he was surprised at the many familiar faces which
greeted him. Men whose aristocratic doors had opened to his entrance and
whose social positions were unquestioned; young men who traced their
lineage through several generations, and whose wealth and intelligence
gave them a social status of no ordinary character, were found in full
accord and upon perfect equality with tradesmen, artificers, and even
with those whose vocation was decidedly doubtful, and some of whom had
heard the key of a prison lock turned upon them for offenses committed
in days gone by.
The leader and President of this society was a Captain Fernandina, who
was known as one of the most active of the conspirators. This individual
at one time occupied the exalted position of a barber at Barnum's Hotel,
but treason and conspiracy had elevated him to the station of a military
captain whose orders were to be obeyed, and a leader whose mandates
compelled respect. He was an Italian or of Italian descent, and having
lived in the South for a number of years he was thoroughly impressed
with the idea of Southern wrongs, and that the election of Mr. Lincoln
was an outrage which must not be tamely submitted to by the high-toned
and chivalrous people of the South.
He was an enthusiast and fanatic, a dangerous man in any crisis, and
particularly so in the one now impending, which threatened a civil war
and all its direful consequences. Educated with Italian ideas and
possessed of the temperament of his people, he openly justified the use
of the stiletto, and fiercely advocated assassination as the means of
preventing the President-elect from taking his seat in the executive
chair. He was also the captain of a military company which drilled
regularly and whose members were believed to fully indorse the views of
their chief.
At this meeting Fernandina delivered an address which, for its
treasonable nature and its violent opposition to all laws, human or
divine, has scarcely a parallel. He boldly advocated the doctrine of
State rights; he fiercely denounced the party who had succeeded in
obtaining power; he inveighed in violent language against the policy of
the so-called abolitionists, and his arraignment of Mr. Lincoln was most
vile and repulsive. As these words fell from his lips the excitement
became intense. Faces were eagerly turned towards him, eyes glistened
with the fires of hate, and hands were clenched as though each one
present was imbued with the same feelings which animated their
sanguinary leader.
As he proceeded, overcome by the violence of his emotions, he drew from
his breast a long, glittering knife, and waving it aloft, exclaimed:
"This hireling Lincoln shall never, never be President. My life is of no
consequence in a cause like this, and I am willing to give it for his.
As Orsini gave his life for Italy, I am ready to die for the rights of
the South and to crush out the abolitionist."
As he stood before them, his black eyes flashing with excitement, his
sallow face pale and colorless and his long hair brushed fiercely back
from his low forehead, he seemed a fitting representative of so
desperate a cause, and his influence over the assemblage was wonderful
to behold. Loud cheers and wild clapping of hands greeted his
utterances, and all seemed in perfect accord with his declared
intentions.
There could be no mistaking the fact, that the object of these men was
dangerous, and that they had fully determined to oppose and prevent the
inauguration of Mr. Lincoln, but the exact plan of operation had not as
yet been agreed upon.
Upon these facts being conveyed to me by Howard on the following
morning, I resolved to interview this desperate leader of the conspiracy
myself, and endeavor to learn from him further particulars of their
movements and designs.
In the immediate vicinity of Barnum's Hotel at that time there was a
famous restaurant, popularly known as "Guy's," and this place was much
frequented by the secessionists who were in the city. Fernandina spent
much of his time there, either in drinking or in consultation with his
numerous political friends, who all seemed to regard him as an important
personage, and one who was eventually to perform giant service in the
cause.
[Illustration: "_He must die, and if necessary we will die together!_"
P. 65]
Howard having effecting an introduction to Fernandina, and convinced him
of his devotion to the interests of the South, I experienced no
difficulty in obtaining the desired interview. About three o'clock on
the following afternoon Howard and myself carelessly entered the saloon,
and were gratified to perceive that Fernandina was also there,
accompanied by several members of the military company which he
commanded. Walking directly up to these gentlemen, Howard introduced me
as a resident of Georgia, who was an earnest worker in the cause of
secession, and whose sympathy and discretion could be implicitly relied
upon.
Fernandina cordially grasped my hand, and we all retired to a private
saloon, where, after ordering the necessary drinks and cigars, the
conversation became general, and to me, absorbingly interesting.
The question of assassinating the President was freely discussed, and
Captain Fernandina expressed himself vehemently in its favor.
Some one in the party remarked:
"Are there no other means of saving the South except by assassination?"
"No," replied Fernandina; "as well might you attempt to move the
Washington Monument yonder with your breath, as to change our purpose.
He must die--and die he shall. And," he continued, turning to Captain
Trichot, a fellow-conspirator who stood near, "if necessary, we will die
together."
"There seems to be no other way," interposed Howard, "and while
bloodshed is to be regretted, it will be done in a noble cause."
Fernandina gazed approvingly at Howard, and then added:
"Yes, the cause is a noble one, and on that day every captain will prove
himself a hero. With the first shot the chief traitor, Lincoln, will
die, then all Maryland will be with us, and the South will be forever
free."
"But," said I, "have all the plans been matured, and are there no fears
of failure? A misstep in so important a direction would be fatal to the
South and ought to be well considered."
"Our plans are fully arranged," answered the Captain, "and they cannot
fail; and," he added, with a wicked gleam in his eyes--"if I alone must
strike the blow, I shall not hesitate or shrink from the task. Lincoln
shall certainly not depart from this city alive."
"Yes," added Captain Trichot, "it is determined that this G--d d--d
Lincoln shall never pass through here alive, and no d--d abolitionist
shall ever set foot upon Southern soil except to find a grave."
"But about the authorities"--I asked--"is there no danger to be
apprehended from them?"
"Oh, no," said the Captain, assuringly, "they are all with us. I have
seen Col. Kane, the Chief Marshal of Police, and he is all right. In a
week from to-day the North shall want another President, for Lincoln
will be a corpse."
All the company gave approving responses to these threats, with but one
exception, and he remained silent, with a doubtful, troubled expression
upon his face. This young man was one of the fast "bloods" of the city,
who proudly wore upon his breast a gold Palmetto badge, and who was a
Lieutenant in the Palmetto Guards, a secret military organization of
Baltimore, and I determined to select this man for the purpose of
obtaining the information I so much desired; and as the company shortly
afterwards broke up, Howard and myself accompanied Lieutenant Hill from
the saloon.
Hill soon proved a pliant tool in our hands. Being of a weak nature and
having been reared in the lap of luxury, he had entered into this
movement more from a temporary burst of enthusiasm and because it was
fashionable, than from any other cause. Now that matters began to assume
such a warlike attitude, he was inclined to hesitate before the affair
had gone too far, but still he seemed to be enamored with the glory of
the undertaking.
By my directions Howard, the ardent secessionist from Louisiana, and
Hill, of the Palmetto Guards, became bosom friends and inseparable
companions. They drank together, and visited theaters and places of
amusement in each other's company.
By reason of his high social position Hill was enabled to introduce his
friend to the leading families and into the most aristocratic clubs and
societies of which the city boasted, and Howard made many valuable
acquaintances through the influence of this rebellious scion of
Baltimore aristocracy.
Finally the young man was induced to open to his companion the secrets
of the plot to assassinate the President. It was evident, however, that
Hill was playing his part in the conspiracy with great reluctance, and
one day he said to Howard:
"What a pity it is that this glorious Union must be destroyed all on
account of that monster Lincoln." From Hill it was learned that the
plans of the conspirators were first to excite and exasperate the
popular feeling against Mr. Lincoln to the utmost, and thus far this had
been successfully accompanied. From the published programme Mr. Lincoln
was to reach Baltimore from Harrisburg by the Northern Central Railroad
on the twenty-third day of February, now but a few days distant. He
would, therefore, reach the city about the middle of the day. A vast
crowd would meet him at the Calvert street depot, at which point it was
expected that he would enter an open carriage and ride nearly half a
mile to the Washington depot. Here it was arranged that but a small
force of policemen should be stationed, and as the President arrived a
disturbance would be created which would attract the attention of these
guardians of the peace, and this accomplished, it would be an easy task
for a determined man to shoot the President, and, aided by his
companions, succeed in making his escape.
Agents of the conspirators had been dispatched to all the principal
Northern cities, to watch the movements of the presidential party, and
ready to telegraph to Baltimore any change of route or delay in arrival.
A cipher had been agreed upon between them, so that the conspirators
could communicate with each other without the possibility of detection,
and everything seemed to be satisfactorily arranged except to depute one
of their number to commit the fatal deed. This was to be determined by
ballot, and as yet no one knew upon whom might devolve the bloody task.
Meanwhile, the idea of assassination was preying heavily upon the mind
of the Lieutenant of the Palmetto Guards; he grew sad and melancholy,
and plunged still deeper into dissipation. Howard had now become a
necessity to him and they were scarcely ever separated. Under the
influence of the master spirit, the disposition of Hill underwent
wonderful changes. At times, he would be thoughtful and morose, and then
would suddenly break out into enthusiastic rhapsodies. His sleep became
tormented with dreams in which he saw himself the martyr to a glorious
cause and the savior of his country.
At such times he would address himself to Howard, in the most
extravagant language.
"I am destined to die," said he one day, "shrouded with glory. I shall
immortalize myself by plunging a knife into Lincoln's heart."
Howard endeavored to calm his transports, but without avail. Raising
himself to his full height, he exclaimed: "Rome had her Brutus, why
should not we? I swear to you, Howard, if it falls to me I will kill
Lincoln before he reaches the Washington depot, not that I love Lincoln
less, but my country more."
As the day drew nearer for the arrival of the President, he became more
nervous and excited, and would more frequently indulge in extravagant
expressions, which would have been regarded as absurd, but for the fact
that he was but one of a large number of fanatics, who seriously
entertained the same ideas of murder, and his expressions but the reflex
of others, more determined.
Timothy Webster was still at Perrymansville, and by this time had fully
identified himself with the rebel cause, and the company of cavalry of
which he was a member. On several occasions he had given undoubted
indications of his loyalty and devotion to the South, and was generally
looked upon as a man who could be trusted. He became quite intimate with
the officers of the company, and succeeded in gaining their entire
confidence. As yet, however, he had learned but little of the important
movement which we believed was in contemplation, as all conversations
upon that subject appeared to be between the officers of the company, at
their secret meetings, to which he had not been able as yet to gain an
entrance.
At length one morning, after the usual daily drill, and when the
company had been dismissed, the Captain addressed Webster and requested
him to be present at his house that evening, as he desired to consult
with him upon important affairs, at the same time cautioning him to say
nothing to any one concerning the matter.
Promptly at the time appointed Webster presented himself at the
residence of the Captain, and was ushered into a room upon the upper
floor, where there were several men already assembled. The curtains had
been drawn close, and heavy quilts had been hung over the windows, which
effectually prevented any one from the outside from discovering a light
in the room. On his entrance he was introduced to the gentlemen present,
three of whom were unknown to him, who were members of the secret league
from Baltimore, and who were evidently impressed with the solemnity and
importance of their undertaking. They greeted Webster cordially,
however, and made room for him at the table around which they were
sitting.
A few minutes satisfied Webster as to the nature of the meeting, and
that it was a conclave of the conspirators, who had met to discuss a
plan of action. Intensely eager as he was to acquire all possible
information, he was obliged to restrain his impetuosity and to listen
calmly to the developments that were made. From what transpired that
evening there could be no doubt of the desperation of the men engaged
in the conspiracy, or of the widespread interest which was taken in
their movements.
The plans for the assassination of the President had been fully matured,
and only needed the selection of the person to perform the deed, in
order to carry them into effect. In the meantime, however, other
important measures required attention and consideration. If the affair
stopped simply with the assassination of the President, but little, if
any, good would be accomplished. The North would rise as one man to
avenge the death of their leader, and they would only hasten a disaster
they were anxious to avoid. It was necessary, therefore, that the work
should be thoroughly done, and the plan suggested was as follows:
As soon as the deed had been accomplished in Baltimore, the news was to
be telegraphed along the line of the road, and immediately upon the
reception of this intelligence the telegraph wires were to be cut, the
railroad bridges destroyed and the tracks torn up, in order to prevent
for some time any information being conveyed to the cities of the North,
or the passage of any Northern men towards the capital.
Wild as the scheme was, it found instant favor with the reckless men
assembled together, and all signified their hearty assent to the
propositions and offered their aid in successfully carrying them out.
Among the most earnest in their protestations was Timothy Webster, and
as he announced his intention to perform his duty in the affair he was
warmly congratulated.
Matters were evidently getting warm, and but little time was left for
action.
[Illustration: "WARMING UP."]
CHAPTER IV.
_The Conspirators in Council.--My Operative Joins the Conspiracy._
I had already written to Mr. Norman B. Judd as the party reached
Cincinnati, informing him that I had reason to believe that there was a
plot on foot to murder the President on his passage through Baltimore,
and promising to advise him further as the party progressed eastward.
This information Mr. Judd did not divulge to any one, fearing to
occasion undue anxiety or unnecessary alarm, and knowing that I was upon
the ground and could be depended upon to act at the proper time.
When the party reached Buffalo another note from me awaited Mr. Judd,
informing him of the accumulation of evidence, but conveying no
particulars. The party were now journeying towards New York city, and I
determined to learn all that there was to learn before many hours.
Previous to this, in addition to the men engaged in Baltimore, I had
sent for Mrs. Kate Warne, the lady superintendent of my agency. This
lady had arrived several days before, and had already made remarkable
progress in cultivating the acquaintance of the wives and daughters of
the conspirators.
Mrs. Warne was eminently fitted for this task. Of rather a commanding
person, with clear-cut, expressive features, and with an ease of manner
that was quite captivating at times, she was calculated to make a
favorable impression at once. She was of Northern birth, but in order to
vouch for her Southern opinions, she represented herself as from
Montgomery, Alabama, a locality with which she was perfectly familiar,
from her connection with the detection of the robbery of the Adams
Express Company, at that place. Her experience in that case, which is
fully detailed in "The Expressman and the Detective," fully qualified
her for the task of representing herself as a resident of the South.
She was a brilliant conversationalist when so disposed, and could be
quite vivacious, but she also understood that rarer quality in
womankind, the art of being silent.
The information she received was invaluable, but as yet the meetings of
the chief conspirators had not been entered. Mrs. Warne displayed upon
her breast, as did many of the ladies of Baltimore, the black and white
cockade, which had been temporarily adopted as the emblem of secession,
and many hints were dropped in her presence which found their way to my
ears, and were of great benefit to me.
As I have said, the Presidential party were in Buffalo, and I had
resolved upon prompt and decisive measures to discover the inward
workings of the conspirators. Accordingly I obtained an interview with
Howard, and gave him such instructions as I deemed necessary under the
circumstances. He was to insist upon Hill taking him to the meeting at
which the ballots were to be drawn, and where he, too, would have an
opportunity to immortalize himself, and then, that being accomplished,
the rest would be easy and all further danger would be over.
Accordingly, that day Howard broached the matter to Hill in a manner
which convinced him of his earnestness, and the young Lieutenant
promised his utmost efforts to secure his admission. At five o'clock in
the afternoon they again met, and Hill joyfully informed his companion
that his request had been granted, and that, upon his vouching for the
fidelity of his friend, he had succeeded in obtaining permission for him
to enter their society.
That evening Howard accompanied his friend Hill to the rendezvous of the
league, and as they entered the darkened chamber, they found many of the
conspirators already assembled. The members were strangely silent, and
an ominous awe seemed to pervade the entire assembly. About twenty men
comprised the number, but many entered afterward. After a few
preliminary movements, Howard was conducted to the station of the
President of the assembly and duly sworn, the members gathering around
him in a circle as this was being done.
[Illustration: "_Howard was conducted to the station of the President,
and duly sworn._" P. 76.]
Having passed through the required formula, Howard was warmly taken by
the hand by his associates, many of whom he had met in the polite
circles of society. After quiet had been restored, the President, who
was none other than Captain Fernandina, arose, and in a dramatic manner
detailed the particulars of the plot.
It had been fully determined that the assassination should take place at
the Calvert street depot. A vast crowd of secessionists were to assemble
at that place to await the arrival of the train with Mr. Lincoln. They
would appear early and fill the narrow streets and passages immediately
surrounding it. No attempt at secrecy was made of the fact that the
Marshal of Police was conversant with their plans, and that he would
detail but a small force of policemen to attend the arrival, and
nominally clear and protect a passage for Mr. Lincoln and his suite. Nor
was the fact disguised that these policemen were in active sympathy with
the movement. George P. Kane's animus was fully shown when he was
subsequently arrested by General Banks, and afterwards became an officer
in the rebel army.
When the train entered the depot, and Mr. Lincoln attempted to pass
through the narrow passage leading to the streets, a party already
delegated were to engage in a conflict on the outside, and then the
policemen were to rush away to quell the disturbance. At this
moment--the police being entirely withdrawn--Mr. Lincoln would find
himself surrounded by a dense, excited and hostile crowd, all hustling
and jamming against him, and then the fatal blow was to be struck.
A swift steamer was to be stationed in Chesapeake Bay, with a boat
awaiting upon the shore, ready to take the assassin on board as soon as
the deed was done, and convey him to a Southern port, where he would be
received with acclamations of joy and honored as a hero.
The question to be decided this evening was: "Who should do the deed?"
"Who should assume the task of liberating the nation of the foul
presence of the abolitionist leader?" For this purpose the meeting had
been called to-night, and to-night the important decision was to be
reached.
It was finally determined that ballots should be prepared and placed in
a box arranged for that purpose, and that the person who drew a _red_
ballot should perform the duty of assassination.
In order that none should know who drew the fatal ballot, except he who
did so, the room was rendered still darker, and every one was pledged to
secrecy as to the color of the ballot he drew. The leaders, however, had
determined that their plans should not fail, and doubting the courage of
some of their number, instead of placing but _one red ballot_ in the
box, they placed _eight_ of the designated color, and these eight
ballots were drawn--each man who drew them believing that upon him, his
courage, strength and devotion, depended the cause of the South--each
supposing that he alone was charged with the execution of the deed.
After the ballots had been drawn the President again addressed the
assembly. He violently assailed the enemies of the South, and in glowing
words pointed out the glory that awaited the man who would prove himself
the hero upon this great occasion, and finally, amid much restrained
enthusiasm, the meeting adjourned, and their duties had thus far been
accomplished.
My time for action had now arrived; my plans had been perfected and I
resolved to act at once. Taking Mrs. Warne with me I reached New York
city on the same day that the presidential party arrived there, and
leaving Mrs. Warne to perfect arrangements, I proceeded at once to
Philadelphia. That evening Mrs. Warne repaired to the Astor House and
requested an interview with Mr. Judd. Her request being granted, Mrs.
Warne informed that gentleman, that, fearing to trust the mail in so
important a matter, she had been delegated by me to arrange for a
personal interview, at which all the proofs relating to the conspiracy
could be submitted to him. It was suggested that immediately after the
arrival of the party in Philadelphia, I should inform Mr. Judd of my
plans for an interview, and that he would be governed accordingly.
While they were conversing, Col. E. S. Sandford, President of the
American Telegraph Company, called, and was introduced by Mrs. Warne to
Mr. Judd. This gentleman had been made fully acquainted with what I had
learned, and had promised all the assistance within his power, and he
accordingly tendered to Mr. Judd his own personal service and the
unlimited use of the telegraph lines under his control, for any
communications he might desire to make.
On arriving at Philadelphia, I proceeded directly to the office of Mr.
Felton, and acquainted him with all the information I had received, of
the designs of the conspirators with regard to Mr. Lincoln, and of their
intention to destroy the railroad should their plot be successful. The
situation was truly alarming, and cautious measures were absolutely
necessary. It was therefore resolved to obtain an interview with Mr.
Lincoln, submit the facts to him, and be governed by his suggestions,
whatever they might be.
This interview took place on the 20th day of February, and Mr. Lincoln
was expected to arrive on the following day. Great preparations had been
made for his reception, and the military, of which Philadelphia was
justly proud, were to escort the President-elect from the depot to the
Continental Hotel, where quarters had been engaged for him, and where he
would receive the congratulations of the people.
CHAPTER V.
_The Presidential Party arrives in Philadelphia.--Independence
Hall.--The Departure from Harrisburg.--Telegraph wires Cut.--Through the
Lines of Treason and Safe Arrival at Washington._
The twenty-first dawned bright and sunny, and the streets were alive
with the eager populace, all anxious to do honor to the new President,
and to witness the scenes attendant upon his reception. In due time the
train containing the party arrived, and after an informal welcome they
took carriages, and, escorted by the troops, the procession took up the
line of march for the hotel. Vast crowds lined the sidewalks and the
enthusiasm of the people was unbounded. The President graciously
acknowledged their courtesies as he passed along. On each side of the
carriage in which Mr. Lincoln was seated, accompanied by Mr. Judd, was a
file of policemen, whose duty it was to prevent the mass of people from
pressing too closely to the vehicle. As the procession reached the
corner of Broad and Chestnut streets, a young man approached the file of
policemen and endeavored to attract the attention of the occupants of
the carriage. Finding this impossible, he boldly plunged through the
ranks of the officers, and coming to the side of the carriage, he handed
to Mr. Judd a slip of paper, on which was written:
"_St. Louis Hotel, ask for J. H. Hutchinson._"
This young man was Mr. George H. Burns, an attache of the American
Telegraph Company and confidential agent of E. S. Sandford, Esq., who
acted as my messenger, and who afterwards distinguished himself for his
courage and daring in the rebellion. It is needless to add that J. H.
Hutchinson was the name I had assumed in registering at the hotel, in
order to avoid any suspicion or curiosity in case any emissary of the
conspirators should ascertain my real name and thus be warned of the
discovery of their scheme.
Shortly after the arrival of Mr. Lincoln at the Continental, Mr. Judd
was announced at the St. Louis Hotel as desiring to see me. Mr. Felton
was with me at the time, and in a few minutes Mr. Judd made his
appearance. More than an hour was occupied in going over the proofs
which I produced of the existence of the conspiracy, at the end of which
time Mr. Judd expressed himself fully convinced that the plot was a
reality, and that prompt measures were required to secure the safety of
the President.
"My advice is," said I, after I had succeeded in convincing Mr. Judd
that my information was reliable, "that Mr. Lincoln shall proceed to
Washington this evening by the eleven o'clock train, and then once safe
at the capital, General Scott and his soldiery will afford him ample
protection."
"I fear very much that Mr. Lincoln will not accede to this," replied Mr.
Judd; "but as the President is an old acquaintance and friend of yours
and has had occasion before this to test your reliability and prudence,
suppose you accompany me to the Continental Hotel, and we can then lay
this information before him in person and abide by his decision."
This idea was at once adopted and we proceeded to the hotel. Here we
found the entrances blocked up by a surging multitude which effectually
prevented our admission, and we were obliged to enter by the rear of the
building through a door used by the servants.
On reaching the room occupied by Mr. Judd that gentleman summoned Mr.
Nicolay, the President's private secretary, and dispatched him with a
note requesting the presence of Mr. Lincoln upon a matter of urgent
importance.
The President at that time was in one of the large parlors surrounded by
a number of ladies and gentlemen, all eager to extend to him the
hospitalities of the city and to express their good wishes for the
success of his administration. Upon receiving the message, however, he
at once excused himself, and forcing his way through the crowd came
directly to us.
Up to this time Mr. Lincoln had been kept in entire ignorance of any
threatened danger, and as he listened to the facts that were now
presented to him, a shade of sadness fell upon his face. He seemed loth
to credit the statement, and could scarce believe it possible that such
a conspiracy could exist. Slowly he went over the points presented,
questioning me minutely the while, but at length finding it impossible
to discredit the truthfulness of what I stated to him, he yielded a
reluctant credence to the facts.
After he had been fully made acquainted with the startling disclosures,
Mr. Judd submitted to him the plan proposed by me, that he should leave
Philadelphia for Washington that evening.
"But," added Mr. Judd, "the proofs that have just been laid before you
cannot be published, as it will involve the lives of several devoted men
now on Mr. Pinkerton's force, especially that of Timothy Webster, who is
now serving in a rebel cavalry company under drill at Perrymansville in
Maryland."
Mr. Lincoln at once acknowledged the correctness of this view, but
appeared at a loss as to what course to pursue.
"You will therefore perceive"--continued Mr. Judd--"that if you follow
the course suggested--that of proceeding to Washington to-night--you
will necessarily be subjected to the scoffs and sneers of your enemies,
and the disapproval of your friends who cannot be made to believe in
the existence of so desperate a plot."
"I fully appreciate these suggestions," replied Mr. Lincoln, "and I can
stand anything that is necessary, but," he added rising to his feet, "I
cannot go to-night. I have promised to raise the flag over Independence
Hall to-morrow morning, and to visit the legislature at Harrisburg in
the afternoon--beyond that I have no engagements. Any plan that may be
adopted that will enable me to fulfill these promises I will accede to,
and you can inform me what is concluded upon to-morrow."
Saying which Mr. Lincoln left the room and joined the people in the
parlor. During the entire interview, he had not evinced the slightest
evidence of agitation or fear. Calm and self-possessed, his only
sentiments appeared to be those of profound regret, that the Southern
sympathizers could be so far led away by the excitement of the hour, as
to consider his death a necessity for the furtherance of their cause.
From his manner, it was deemed useless to attempt to induce him to alter
his mind, and after a few minutes' further conversation, which was
participated in by Mr. Sandford, who had entered the room, I left for
the purpose of finding Thomas A. Scott, Esq., the Vice-President of the
Pennsylvania Central Railroad, in order to make arrangements for the
carrying out of a plan which had occurred to me, and which would enable
Mr. Lincoln to fulfill his engagements.
I was unable, however, to find Mr. Scott, but succeeded in reaching Mr.
G. C. Franciscus, the general manager of the road, and at twelve o'clock
that night, in company with that gentleman and Mr. Sandford, we called
again upon Mr. Judd.
At this meeting a full discussion of the entire matter was had between
us, and after all possible contingencies had been considered, the
following programme was agreed upon.
After the formal reception at Harrisburg had taken place, a special
train, consisting of a baggage-car and one passenger-coach, should leave
there at six o'clock P. M. to carry Mr. Lincoln and one companion back
to Philadelphia; this train was to be under the immediate control of Mr.
Franciscus and Mr. Enoch Lewis, the general superintendent. In order to
avoid the possibility of accident, the track was to be cleared of
everything between Harrisburg and Philadelphia from half-past five
o'clock until after the passage of the special train. Mr. Felton was to
detain the eleven o'clock P. M. Baltimore train until the arrival of the
special train from Harrisburg, Mrs. Warne in the meantime engaging
berths in the sleeping-car bound for Baltimore.
[Illustration: "_Mr. Lincoln raising the flag on Independence Hall._" P.
87]
I was to remain in Philadelphia in order that no accident might occur in
conveying the President from one depot to another, and Mr. Judd was to
manage the affair at Harrisburg. Everything that could be suggested in
relation to this matter was fully considered, and having at length
perfected our plans, the party separated at half-past four o'clock in
the morning, fully prepared to carry out the programme agreed upon.
At six o'clock on the morning of the 22d, a vast concourse of people
assembled in front of Independence Hall on Chestnut street, and at
precisely the hour appointed, Mr. Lincoln made his appearance. With his
own hands he drew to the top of the staff surmounting the edifice a
beautiful new American flag, and as its Stripes and Stars floated out
gracefully to the breeze, the air was rent with the shouts of the
multitude and the music of the band.
Mr. Lincoln's speech upon this occasion was the most impressive and
characteristic of any which he had delivered upon his journey to the
capital, while a tinge of sadness pervaded his remarks, never noticed
before, and which were occasioned no doubt by the revelations of the
preceding night. He gave a most eloquent expression to the emotions and
associations which were suggested by the day and by the historic old
hall where he then stood. He declared that all his political sentiments
were drawn from the inspired utterances of those who had sat within the
walls of that ancient edifice. He alluded most feelingly to the dangers
and toils and sufferings of those who had adopted and made good the
Declaration of Independence--a declaration which gave promise that "in
due time the weight would be lifted from the shoulders of all men."
Conscious of the dangers that threatened his country, and feeling also
that those dangers originated in opposition to the principles enunciated
in the Declaration of Independence, knowing that his own life was even
then threatened because of his devotion to liberty, and that his way to
the national capital was beset by assassins, he did not hesitate to
declare boldly and fearlessly "that he would rather be assassinated on
the spot than surrender those principles" so dear to him.
After these proceedings, Mr. Lincoln was driven back to the Continental
Hotel, and sending for Mr. Judd, he introduced him to Mr. Frederick H.
Seward, a son of the late William H. Seward, who was in the room with
the President. Mr. Lincoln then informed Mr. Judd that Mr. Seward had
been sent from Washington by his father and General Scott to warn him of
the danger of passing through Baltimore, and to urge him to come direct
to Washington.
From whom this information was originally obtained did not appear, but
the facts were deemed of sufficient moment to be brought to the ears of
the President, and hence Mr. Seward's visit to Philadelphia. Mr. Lincoln
evinced no further hesitancy in the matter, and signified his readiness
to do whatever was required of him. Mr. Judd then directed Mr. Seward to
inform his father that all had been arranged, and that, so far as human
foresight could predict, Mr. Lincoln would be in Washington before the
evening of the following day, and cautioned him to preserve the utmost
secrecy in regard to the matter. No particulars were given and none were
asked.
At the time appointed Mr. Lincoln started for Harrisburg, and I busied
myself with the preparations that were necessary to successfully carry
our plans into operation. From reports which I received from Baltimore,
the excitement in that city had grown more intense, and the arrival of
the President was awaited with the most feverish impatience. The common
and accepted belief was that Mr. Lincoln would journey from Harrisburg
to Baltimore over the Northern Central Railroad, and the plans of the
conspirators were arranged accordingly.
It became a matter of the utmost importance, therefore, that no
intimation of our movements should reach that city. I had no doubt but
that trusty agents of the conspirators were following the presidential
party, and after the absence of Mr. Lincoln had been discovered, the
telegraph would be put into active operation to apprise the movers of
this scheme of the change that had been made. To effectually prevent
this I determined that the telegraph wires which connected Harrisburg
with her neighboring cities should be so "fixed" as to render
communication impossible.
To arrange this matter Capt. Burns was sent to the office of the
American Telegraph Company, and obtaining from Mr. H. E. Thayer, the
manager of the company, a competent and trustworthy man for the purpose,
departed for Harrisburg, in order to carry out the proposed measures.
Mr. Thayer, in the meantime, was to remain in the office during the
night, in order to intercept any dispatches that might be sent over the
wires from any point between Harrisburg and Baltimore, and to
immediately deliver any messages that might be sent to me.
Mr. W. P. Westervelt, the superintendent, and Mr. Andrew Wynne, the
line-man of the telegraph company, were delegated to Harrisburg to "fix"
the wires leading from that place in such a manner as to prevent any
communication from passing over them, and to report to Capt. Burns upon
their arrival.
After the train containing Mr. Lincoln and his party had left
Philadelphia, Mr. Judd sought the first favorable opportunity of
conversing with Mr. Lincoln alone, and fully detailed to him the plan
that had been agreed upon, all of which met with the hearty approval of
the President, who signified a cheerful willingness to adapt himself to
the novel circumstances.
It was evident, from the manner of several of the gentlemen of the
party, that they suspected something was transpiring of which they had
not been advised, but they all very judiciously refrained from asking
any questions. Mr. Judd, however, who felt the responsibility of his
position, finally suggested to Mr. Lincoln the propriety and
advisability of informing them of what had taken place, and of
consulting with them upon the proper carrying out of the contemplated
journey. To this Mr. Lincoln yielded a ready assent, adding, with an
amused smile:
"I suppose they will laugh at us, Judd, but I think you had better get
them together."
It was therefore arranged that after the reception at the State House
had taken place, and before they sat down to dinner, the matter should
be fully laid before the following gentlemen of the party: Judge David
Davis, Col. Sumner, Major David Hunter, Capt. John Pope and Ward H.
Lamon, Esq.
Mr. Lincoln arrived at Harrisburg at noon, and was introduced to the
people from the balcony of the Jones House, where an address was
delivered by Gov. Andrew G. Curtin, whose fame became widespread during
the dark days of the rebellion that followed, as the "War Governor of
Pennsylvania." From the hotel the party proceeded to the House of
Representatives, where he was welcomed by the Speaker, to which he
replied in a few well-chosen words.
After a short time spent in congratulations and hand-shaking they
returned to the hotel, and the gentlemen who have been previously named
were invited (in company with the Governor) to confer with the
President in the parlor. At this meeting the information of the
discovery of the plot to assassinate the President was laid before them,
and also the details of the proposed journey to Washington. After the
matter had been fully explained, a great diversity of opinion manifested
itself among the gentlemen present, and some warm discussion was
indulged in. Finally, Judge Davis, who had expressed no opinion upon the
subject as yet, addressed the President, saying:
"Well, Mr. Lincoln, what is your own judgment upon this matter?"
"I have thought over this matter considerably since I went over the
ground with Mr. Pinkerton last night," answered Mr. Lincoln, "and the
appearance of Mr. Frederick Seward, with warning from another source,
confirms my belief in Mr. Pinkerton's statement; therefore, unless there
are some other reasons than a fear of ridicule, I am disposed to carry
out Mr. Judd's plan."
Judge Davis turned to the others, and said:
"That settles the matter, gentlemen."
"So be it," exclaimed Col. Sumner. "It is against my judgment, but I
have undertaken to go to Washington with Mr. Lincoln, and I shall do
it."
Mr. Judd endeavored in vain to convince the gallant old soldier that
every additional person only added to the risk, but the fiery spirit of
the veteran was aroused and debate was useless.
Having arranged the matter thus satisfactorily the party, at about four
o'clock in the afternoon, repaired to the dining-room for dinner.
All the preliminaries had now been successfully arranged. The special
train, ostensibly to take the officers of the railroad company back to
Philadelphia, was waiting upon a side track just outside of the town.
The telegraph operators had performed their work admirably. Walking out
of the city nearly two miles, Mr. Wynne climbed the poles and placing
fine copper ground wires upon the regular lines, the city was soon
entirely isolated from her neighbors. No message could possibly be sent
from Harrisburg, and the capital of Pennsylvania was cut off temporarily
from the rest of the world.
The preparations in Philadelphia had also been fully made. Mrs. Warne
had succeeded in engaging the rear half of a sleeping-car for the
accommodation of her invalid brother, and that portion of the car was to
be entirely separated from the rest by a curtain, so arranged that no
one in the forward part of the car would be aware of the occupants of
the same coach.
In order to detain the Baltimore train until the arrival of Mr. Lincoln,
the conductor was directed not to start his train until he received
personal instructions to that effect from Mr. H. F. Kinney, the
superintendent, who would hand him an important parcel, which President
Felton desired should be delivered early on the following morning to Mr.
E. J. Allen at Willard's Hotel, in Washington. (E. J. Allen was the
nom-de-plume I generally used when on detective operations.)
At a quarter to six o'clock everything was in readiness. A carriage was
in waiting at the side entrance of the hotel, and the entire party were
still at the table. A message was delivered to the President by Mr.
Nicolay, and upon receiving it, he immediately arose, and, accompanied
by Mr. Curtin, Mr. Lamon and Mr. Judd, he left the dining-room. Mr.
Lincoln exchanged his dinner dress for a traveling suit, and soon
returned with a shawl upon his arm and a soft felt hat protruding from
his coat pocket.
The halls, stairways and pavement were filled with a mass of people,
who, seeing the President in company with the Governor, at once imagined
that they were going to the executive mansion, where a reception was to
be held in the evening.
Mr. Judd whispered to Mr. Lamon to proceed in advance, adding:
"As soon as Mr. Lincoln is in the carriage, drive off."
As the party, consisting of Mr. Lincoln, Governor Curtin, and Mr. Lamon,
entered the carriage, Col. Sumner attempted to follow them, but Mr. Judd
gently put his hand upon the old gentleman's shoulder, and as he turned
quickly around to inquire what was wanted, the carriage was driven
rapidly away.
[Illustration: "_The party, consisting of Mr. Lincoln, Governor Curtin
and Mr. Lamon, entered the carriage._" P. 94.]
Thus far everything had passed off admirably, and in a short time Mr.
Lincoln was upon the special train, accompanied only by Mr. Lamon and
the railroad officials, and speeding along toward Philadelphia.
Without accident the party arrived at the Quaker City shortly after ten
o'clock, where I was waiting with a carriage, in company with Mr.
Kinney. Without a word Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Lamon and myself entered the
vehicle, while Mr. Kinney seated himself alongside of the driver, and we
proceeded directly to the depot of the Philadelphia, Wilmington and
Baltimore Railroad.
Driving up to the sidewalk on Carpenter street, and in the shadow of a
tall fence, the carriage was stopped and the party alighted. As we
approached the train, Mrs. Warne came forward, and, familiarly greeting
the President as her brother, we entered the sleeping-car by the rear
door without unnecessary delay, and without any one being aware of the
distinguished passenger who had arrived.
A carefully inclosed package, which resembled a formidable official
document, but which contained only some neatly folded daily papers, was
placed in the hands of the unsuspecting conductor--the whistle sounded,
and soon the train was in motion, whirling on towards the capital of the
nation.
So carefully had all our movements been conducted, that no one in
Philadelphia saw Mr. Lincoln enter the car, and no one on the train,
except his own immediate party--not even the conductor, knew of his
presence, and the President, feeling fatigued from the labors and the
journeys of the day, at once retired to his berth.
In order to prevent the possibility of accident, I had arranged with my
men a series of signals along the road. It was barely possible that the
work of destroying the railroad might be attempted by some reckless
individuals, or that a suspicion of our movements might be entertained
by the conspirators, and therefore, the utmost caution must be observed.
As the train approached Havre de Grace, I went to the rear platform of
the car, and as the train passed on a bright light flashed suddenly upon
my gaze and was as quickly extinguished, and then I knew that thus far
all was well.
From this point all the way to Baltimore, at every bridge-crossing these
lights flashed, and their rays carried the comforting assurance "All's
Well!"
We reached Baltimore at about half-past three o'clock in the morning,
and as the train rumbled into the depot an officer of the road entered
the car and whispered in my ear the welcome words "All's Well!"
The city was in profound repose as we passed through. Darkness and
silence reigned over all. Perhaps, at this moment, however, the reckless
conspirators were astir perfecting their plans for a tragedy as infamous
as any which has ever disgraced a free country--perhaps even now the
holders of the _red_ ballots were nerving themselves for their part in
the dreadful work, or were tossing restlessly upon sleepless couches.
Be that as it may, our presence in Baltimore was entirely unsuspected,
and as the sleeping-car in which we were, was drawn by horses through
the streets from the Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore depot, until
we reached the Washington station, no sign of life was apparent in the
great slumbering city. At the depot, however, a number of people were
gathered, awaiting the arrival and departure of the various trains, and
here the usual bustle and activity were manifested.
We were compelled to remain here fully two hours, owing to the detention
of the train from the West, and during that time, Mr. Lincoln remained
quietly in his berth, joking with rare good humor with those around him.
Ever and anon some snatches of rebel harmony would reach our ears, as
they were rather discordantly sung by the waiting passengers in and
around the depot. "My Maryland" and "Dixie" appeared to be the
favorites, and once, after an intoxicated individual had roared through
one stanza of the latter song, Mr. Lincoln turned quietly and rather
sadly to me and said:
"No doubt there will be a great time in Dixie by and by."
How prophetic his words were, the succeeding years too fully proved.
At length the train arrived and we proceeded on our way, arriving in
Washington about six o'clock in the morning. Mr. Lincoln wrapped his
traveling shawl about his shoulders, and in company with Mr. Lamon,
started to leave the car. I followed close behind, and on the platform
found two of my men awaiting our arrival. A great many people were
gathered about the depot, but Mr. Lincoln entirely escaped recognition,
until as we were about leaving the depot, Mr. Washburne, of Illinois,
came up and cordially shook him by the hand.
The surprise of this gentleman was unbounded, and many of those standing
around, observing his movements, and the tall form of Mr. Lincoln
exciting curiosity, I feared that danger might result in case he was
recognized at this time. I accordingly went up to them hurriedly, and
pressing between them whispered rather loudly:
"No talking here!"
Mr. Washburne gazed inquiringly at me, and was about to resent my
interference, when Mr. Lincoln interposed:
"That is Mr. Pinkerton, and everything is all right."
Thus satisfied, Mr. Washburne quickly led the way to a carriage in
waiting outside, where we met Mr. Seward, who warmly greeted the
President, and then the party were rapidly driven down Pennsylvania
Avenue to Willard's Hotel--I following closely behind them with my men,
in another vehicle.
[Illustration: "_The safe arrival at Washington._" P. 98.]
On his arrival at the hotel Mr. Lincoln was warmly greeted by his
friends, who were rejoiced at his safe arrival, and leaving him in the
hands of those whose fealty was undoubted, I withdrew, and engaged
temporary quarters at another hotel.
During the forenoon I received a note from Mr. Lincoln requesting an
interview, and received his warm expressions of thankfulness for the
part I had performed in securing his safety, after which, finding that
my object had been fully accomplished, I took the train and returned to
Baltimore.
Here I found the utmost excitement prevailing. The news of the safe
arrival of Mr. Lincoln had already reached there, and a general
sentiment of rage and disappointment pervaded the entire circle of
conspirators and secessionists. I lost no time in securing an interview
with Howard, and learned from him the particulars attendant upon the
discovery that Mr. Lincoln had outwitted his enemies and was now safely
quartered in Washington. Finding that their plans had been discovered,
and fearing that the vengeance of the government would overtake them,
the leading conspirators had suddenly disappeared. All their courage and
bravado was gone, and now, like the miserable cowards that they were,
they had sought safety in flight.
A curious episode occurred at Harrisburg immediately after the
departure of Mr. Lincoln from that city. Two newspaper correspondents
connected with prominent New York journals had accompanied the party
from Springfield, and had faithfully noted the incidents which had
occurred upon the journey. As soon as the train which carried Mr.
Lincoln away from Harrisburg was on its way, a gentlemanly individual,
_well-known to me_, went to the room occupied by these journalists, and
found them engaged in preparations to witness the further proceedings of
the presidential party.
The visitor quickly informed the gentlemen that Mr. Lincoln had left the
city and was now flying over the road in the direction of Washington,
which he would no doubt reach in the morning. This was the signal for
renewed activity, and both gentlemen hastily arose, and, grasping their
hats, started for the door. Their visitor however, was too quick for
them, and standing before the door with a revolver in each hand, he
addressed them: "You cannot leave this room, gentlemen, without my
permission!"
"What does this mean?" inquired one of the surprised gentlemen, blinking
through his spectacles.
"It means that you cannot leave this room until the safety of Mr.
Lincoln justifies it," calmly replied the other.
"I want to telegraph to the _Herald_," said the second
correspondent--"what is the use of obtaining news if we cannot utilize
it?"
"You cannot utilize anything at present, gentlemen. The telegraph will
not be of any service to you, for the wires are all down, and Harrisburg
will be separated from the rest of the world for some hours yet."
"When do you propose to let us out?" humbly asked one.
"Well, I'll tell you, gentlemen. If you will sit down calmly, and bide
your time and mine, I will make matters interesting for you, by
informing you all about this flank movement on the Baltimoreans."
Their indignation and fright subsided at once, and they quietly sat
down. Refreshments were sent for, and soon the nimble pencils of the
reporters were rapidly jotting down as much of the information as was
deemed advisable to be made public at that time. After they had heard
all, they prepared their dispatches for New York, both correspondents
writing long and interesting accounts of the affair.
When daylight dawned, and the gladsome tidings had been received that
Mr. Lincoln was safe, these knights of the quill were liberated, and,
rushing to the telegraph offices, which were now in running order again,
the news was transmitted to New York and in less than an hour the types
were being set which would convey to the public the startling news of
the discovered conspiracy, and the manner in which the conspirators had
been outwitted.
As the later train arrived at Baltimore, I went to the depot and found
the remaining members of the President's party, who also brought Mrs.
Lincoln with them.
Mr. Judd was jubilant at the success of the adventure, but Col. Sumner
had not yet recovered his good humor. I have no doubt, however, that Mr.
Lincoln succeeded in placating his irascible friend, and I know that in
the bloody scenes which followed Col. Sumner bore an honorable and
courageous part.
Thus ends the narration of this important episode in one of the most
interesting epochs of the country's history, and a truthful record has
been given. Exaggerated stories and unauthorized statements have been
freely made with regard to this journey of Mr. Lincoln. The caricaturist
has attempted to throw ridicule upon the great man who now sleeps in a
martyr's grave. A silly story of his being disguised in a Scotch cap and
plaid obtained a temporary currency, but the fact remains that Mr.
Lincoln, as a gentleman, and in the company of gentlemen, successfully
passed through the camp of the conspirators and reached in safety the
capital of the country.
Now the war is ended. Peace reigns throughout the borders of the great
Republic. And when, during the last dying throes of the rebellion, this
great man was stricken down by the hand of an assassin, North and South
alike united in lamenting his death, and in execrating the damnable
deed and its reckless perpetrators.
I had informed Mr. Lincoln in Philadelphia that I would answer with my
life for his safe arrival in Washington, and I had redeemed my pledge.
[Illustration: A CAMP SONG.]
CHAPTER VI.
_My Connection with the Rebellion.--Timothy Webster Accepts a Mission._
My connection with the "Great Rebellion" of 1861 began almost from the
inception of that gigantic struggle. During the days that intervened
between the inauguration of Abraham Lincoln and the memorable 12th day
of April, 1861, treason was busy in the South, and secession resolved
itself into an accomplished fact. Scarcely had the reverberating tones
of the guns upon the batteries in Charleston Harbor died away upon the
air, than I was called into the service of the military branch of the
government. At that time I was engaged in the energetic practice of my
profession as a detective, which, large as it was, and constantly
increasing, required a personal supervision, which absorbed my undivided
attention. When, however, it became evident that a conflict was
unavoidable, I soon found my services were needed, and putting aside all
considerations of a private or business nature, I yielded a ready and
cheerful response to the call, and during my connection with what was
afterwards known as the secret service of the government, I rendered
every assistance that lay in my power to further the cause of union, and
to serve the country of my adoption.
The month of April, 1861, was an important one in the history of the
country. Whatever fears and apprehensions had filled the minds of the
Northern people as to the solution of the great political questions then
pending, a resort to arms had, until that time, been regarded as not
likely to occur. A people who had been reared amid the blessings of a
long and undisturbed peace, and whose lives, under this benign
influence, had been prosperous and happy, they were almost entirely
unprepared for a serious contest or a warlike struggle. Many times
before the political horizon had grown dark and threatening, but the
storm had subsided almost instantly, under that wise yielding of
obedience to law and to the will of majorities, which it was hoped would
now exercise its power for the preservation and continuance of amity.
When, therefore, on the 12th of April, the attack upon Fort Sumter in
Charleston Harbor was made, the Northern people were almost startled by
surprise. Though entirely unprepared for such an event, it was clearly
demonstrated to all that war could now no longer be honorably avoided.
It was now too late to inquire into original causes of the contest; it
remained only for the loyal heart to resent the insult to a nation's
flag, and to sustain the government in upholding its constitution and
in enforcing its laws. This act fired the patriotic heart and solidified
the patriotic ranks, and, with the crumbling of the walls upon Fort
Sumter, were shattered all the hopes previously entertained of a
peaceful solution of the problems which were then before the country. I
have very little doubt that the assault upon Fort Sumter was ordered by
the rebel government, under the fallacious hope and groundless belief
that it would not provoke immediate or widespread civil war. The
Southern leaders were well aware of the fact that the frontier could not
be entirely stripped of regulars, and assuming, or pretending to, that
the existing laws contained no provision authorizing a call of the
militia, they inferred that it would be difficult for the new
administration to obtain at once legislation of a coercive character.
Then, too, they relied, in a great measure, upon a friendly feeling
toward the South from their late political associates in the North; but
in this their reckoning was at fault, and the roar of Beauregard's guns
in Charleston Harbor cleared up the political horizon as if by magic.
There could no longer be any doubt as to the position and intentions of
the Confederates. Seven disloyal States, with all their machinery of a
separate government, stood behind those batteries, and the cool
deliberation of the assault gave evidence of plan, of purpose and of
confidence. What had been believed to be a mere conspiracy for the
gaining of certain political ends, now gave way to a revolution, which
menaced the perpetuity of the government and which required the armed
force of the government to combat and subdue.
The news of the assault upon Sumter reached Washington on Saturday, the
13th day of April, and on the following day, Sunday though it was,
President Lincoln assembled his Cabinet to discuss the duty of the hour,
and on Monday morning a proclamation was issued, calling forth an army
of seventy-five thousand men, for objects entirely lawful and
constitutional.
The effect of this proclamation upon the people of the North was almost
electrical, and the heart of the whole nation throbbed with its
patriotic emotions as that of a single individual. The general sentiment
appeared to be in entire accord with the utterance of Stephen A.
Douglas, a live-long Democrat, that "every man must be for the United
States, or against it; there can be no neutrals in this war--only
patriots and traitors." More than double the number of men that were
required tendered their services, and before the lapse of forty-eight
hours armed companies and regiments of volunteers were in motion toward
the expected border of conflict. Nor was there exhibited that division
of Northern sentiment that had been so boastfully predicted by the
Southern leaders, and all men, of every belief, Democrats and
Republicans, Conservatives and Radicals, natives and foreigners, from
Maine to Oregon, responded to the call, and came to the defense of the
constitution, the government and the Union.
At this time the position of Maryland was rather a precarious one. There
could be no doubt that the Unionists were greatly in the majority, but
it was also true that there was a large and influential minority of her
people in favor of secession. Here, as elsewhere, conspiracy had been at
work for months, and many of the prominent political leaders were in
full accord with the rebel government. The legislature was believed to
be unreliable, and treason had obtained so firm a foothold in the
populous city of Baltimore, that a secret recruiting office was sending
enlisted men to Charleston. The venomous germ of treason, once planted,
grew in magnitude and virulence, until it finally culminated in the
infamous riot of April 19th, when the blood of the citizen soldiery of
Massachusetts was first shed in defense of the Union. A spirit of
opposition to the passage of Northern troops through the city, on their
way to the seat of government, had been engendered among the "rough"
element of Baltimore, and the excitement reached its climax upon the
arrival of the Sixth Massachusetts Regiment, which was the first to
answer the call for troops. When their presence became known the
traitorous element could no longer be restrained, and while the men were
passing quietly through the city, on their way from one railroad
station to another, they were murderously attacked by a reckless,
howling mob, which resulted in bloodshed and carnage, and some of the
most fiendish outrages were perpetrated that ever blackened a page of
American history.
The crowning act of disloyalty, and one which threatened the most
serious consequences to the government, was committed about midnight of
the same day. A secret order was issued by the mayor and police officers
to burn the nearest bridges on the railroads leading into Baltimore from
the free States, and parties, under the command of the police
authorities were dispatched to execute the order.
Before daylight the following morning, the bridges at Melvale, Relay
House and Cockeysville, on the Harrisburg road and over the Bush and
Gunpowder rivers and Harris Creek, were completely destroyed by fire,
thus effectually severing railroad communication with the North. The
telegraph wires leading to and from the capital were also cut,
completely shutting off Washington, and the government from the loyal
Northern States. These acts, committed by the orders of the very men who
that morning had risked their lives in defending the soldiers of the
Union, are sufficient to show the rapid and overmastering influence of
revolutionary madness.
Of course, the news of these outrages spread far and wide over the
country, and while they aroused universal indignation, they
nevertheless were the occasion of grave fears for the safety of the
capital.
It was on the 21st of April, two days after the occurrence of these
events that my services were required. Several gentlemen of prominence
in Chicago, intimate friends of President Lincoln, and men of influence
and intelligence in the State, desired to communicate with the President
upon questions connected with the existing condition of affairs, and
applied to me for the purpose of having letters and dispatches conveyed
directly to Washington by the hands of a trusty messenger.
I at once accepted the duty, and selected a man for its performance.
Experience proved that I was not mistaken in my selection, and as the
messenger chosen for this duty is to bear an important part in the
event, which I am about to relate, a description of him will at once
acquaint the reader with his personal appearance.
He was a tall, broad-shouldered, good-looking man of about forty years
of age. In height he was about five feet ten inches; his brown hair,
which was brushed carelessly back from a broad, high forehead,
surmounted a face of a character to at once attract attention.
There was such a decided mixture of sternness and amiability, of innate
force and gentle feelings, of frankness and resolution stamped upon his
features, that he instinctively impressed the beholder at a glance.
The deep gray eyes could twinkle and sparkle with good humor, or they
would grow dark and menacing, and seem to flash under the influence of
anger. The mouth, almost concealed by the heavy brown mustaches which he
wore, and the square, firm chin evinced a firmness that was
unmistakable. His nose, large and well-formed, and the prominent cheek
bones all seemed in perfect harmony with the bold spirit which leaped
from the eyes, and the strong will that lurked about the set lips. In
figure, he was rather stout, but his shoulders were so broad, his feet
and hands so shapely, and the lithe limbs so well formed, that he did
not appear of as full habit as he really was. A casual observer on
meeting this man would almost immediately and insensibly be impressed
with the conviction that he was a man who could be trusted; that any
duty devolving upon him would be sacredly kept; and as he stood before
me on this sunny afternoon in April, I felt that I could implicitly rely
upon him in any emergency in which he might be placed, and to perform
any service for which he might be selected.
This man was Timothy Webster, a faithful officer, a true friend, and an
ardent patriot.
I had known this man for years. He had been in my employ for a long
time, and had been engaged upon operations of a varied and diverse
nature, consequently I knew precisely what his capabilities were, and
how entirely he could be trusted. Though not a man of great
enlightenment, he was gifted with a large amount of natural shrewdness,
which enabled him to successfully meet any emergency which might arise.
From his association with people in the various walks of life, he had
acquired that habit of easy adaptation which made him appear, and feel,
perfectly at home in almost any society, whether in the drawing-room or
the tavern, in the marts of trade, or laboring at the plow.
From my knowledge of Timothy Webster, and my confidence in his wisdom
and reliability, I had chosen him to be the bearer of the dispatches to
Mr. Lincoln. I therefore called him into my office and explained to him
the nature of the duties he was to perform, the possible dangers he
would encounter, and the importance of the trust that was to be reposed
in him, and when I had concluded, I asked:
"Timothy, knowing what you do of the task before you, will you undertake
its performance?"
"I understand all perfectly," he replied, drawing himself up to his full
height, while his eyes flashed with a patriotic fire, "I know that my
country demands my services, and that, if it shall cost me my life, I am
ready to perform my full duty."
The preparations for his departure did not occupy a very long time; the
services of Miss Kate Warne, my female superintendent, were requested,
and in a few minutes the important dispatches, some twelve in number,
were securely sewed between the linings of his coat collar, and in the
body of his waistcoat, and Timothy Webster was on his way to the capital
of the country.
[Illustration: A COLORED CONTRABAND]
CHAPTER VII.
_Webster on his Way to the Capital.--Wrecked Trains and Broken
Bridges.--An Adventure with a Cavalryman.--Rebel Emissary.--President
Lincoln and Timothy Webster._
Everywhere along the route the greatest excitement prevailed, and the
people were in a state of wildest commotion. A rumor had spread
throughout the country that the government, indignant at the riotous
conduct of the Baltimoreans, had ordered the guns of Fort McHenry to
fire upon the city, that the bombardment was now going on, and that half
the town was reduced to ashes. This rumor was false, as Webster learned
on arriving in Philadelphia, although even in the staid old Quaker City
there was manifest a degree of excitement scarcely to be expected in a
community so sedate and easy-going as Philadelphians usually are.
Leaving the train at Philadelphia, Webster made his way through the
crowded streets to the center of the city. He deemed it best to take
counsel with some of the railroad and express officials, with whom he
was very well acquainted, by reason of his connection with the discovery
of the conspiracy to assassinate President Lincoln in Baltimore in the
month of February immediately preceding.
At that time Webster had been enrolled as a member of a volunteer
company of cavalry at Perrymansville, in Maryland, and, gaining the
confidence of his officers, had assisted in discovering the plans of the
conspirators, and partly through his efforts, I had been successful in
frustrating their murderous designs. This operation had brought him in
close association with several gentlemen who were connected with the
railroad and express companies, whose travel lay between Philadelphia
and the now riotous and isolated city of Baltimore. As he was walking
leisurely down Chestnut street he was accosted by Mr. Dunn, a gentleman
who was connected with a leading express company in the city, and who
was now upon his return from a visit to the Philadelphia, Wilmington and
Baltimore depot. After an interchange of salutations, Webster inquired
of Mr. Dunn the condition of affairs in and around Baltimore.
"Very bad, indeed," replied that gentleman; "the bridges are all down,
and the tracks have been torn up all along the road from Perrysville to
Baltimore. The telegraph-wires have been cut, and no communications have
been received from Baltimore or Washington except through couriers. The
roads are guarded with soldiery, whose sympathies are with the
rebellion, and it is almost impossible for any one who cannot identify
himself as a Southern man to pass the guards who are stationed along
the highways."
"It does not look very favorable for my reaching Washington to-morrow,
then?" said Webster, inquiringly.
"No, sir. I am afraid that you will find it difficult, if not dangerous,
to attempt such a journey, particularly by the way of Baltimore; and
perhaps you had better delay your departure until it can be more safely
accomplished," said Mr. Dunn.
"It may be as you say," replied Webster, "but I left Chicago for
Washington, and my line of travel was laid out through Baltimore. I will
obey my orders to the letter, and I will arrive in Washington to-morrow
night, or lose my life in attempting it!"
"I see that you are determined to go," said Mr. Dunn, "and further
argument would be of no avail; but I assure you, that you cannot travel
further by rail than Perrysville; you may succeed in getting across the
river to Havre de Grace, but after that you will have to rely entirely
upon yourself."
"Never fear for me," replied Webster, with a smile, "I will get through
all right, I feel confident. I will have but little time now to catch
the train, Mr. Dunn, and if you will be kind enough to telegraph to Mr.
Pinkerton according to my directions, I will esteem it a great favor."
"Certainly, Webster; anything I can do for you, or Mr. Pinkerton, will
be done cheerfully."
Writing out a message, informing me of his arrival in Philadelphia and
of his intentions, he requested Mr. Dunn to forward the same, and then,
bidding that gentleman good-bye, he made his way to the Baltimore depot,
and was soon on the road to that city.
As the train went speeding along upon its journey, Webster had ample
time for the consideration of his plans. He was pretty well acquainted
with the country between Havre de Grace and Baltimore, and had no fear
of losing his way, even if the journey must be made by foot. He was
impressed, however, with the necessity of using the utmost caution.
While he did not fear for his own personal safety--for fear was an
element entirely unknown to him--he realized the importance of his
mission too well to rashly imperil its success by any useless exposure,
or unnecessary risk. To reach Washington, however, he was determined,
and to accomplish that object no danger would be too great, no hardship
too severe. He nevertheless felt that he must rely solely upon himself,
that he would have no one to advise him, and his own discretion and
wisdom would have to be depended upon under all circumstances. Arriving
at the Perrysville station, he found that the train could go no further,
and that, to reach Havre de Grace, upon the opposite side of the
Susquehanna River, the passengers would be required to take small boats
and be rowed over, after which each man must make his way as best he
could.
As the boat touched the land Webster sprang ashore, and, going directly
to the hotel, inquired for the landlord. He found that gentleman engaged
in earnest conversation with an individual who at once instinctively
awakened the suspicions of my operative. This gentleman was a tall,
fine-looking man, with the erect carriage and self-reliant air of the
soldier, but there was something in the nervousness of his manner, and
in the furtive glances of his eyes, which convinced Webster that he was
concealing something and would bear watching.
Approaching the spot where the two men were conversing, Webster at once
addressed the landlord in a hearty manner. "Landlord, I must get to
Baltimore to-day. How am I going to do it?"
"I do not know," replied the hotel-keeper, "this gentleman is anxious to
do the same thing, but I am afraid I cannot help either of you."
The gentleman thus referred to turned to Webster, saying:
"Yes, I am very anxious to get through. I am a bearer of dispatches to
the British Consul at Washington, and it is of the utmost importance
that they should be delivered at once."
While he was speaking a man drove up to the front of the hotel with a
fine, strong team of horses attached to a covered road wagon, and
throwing the reins across the back of his horses, leaped lightly to the
ground.
"Here is a man who can help you," said the landlord, as the new-comer
entered the room; and then he called out:
"Harris, come here!"
The driver of the team came over to where the three men were standing,
and the landlord at once made known to him the wishes of Webster and the
messenger of the British Consul.
"Harris, these gentlemen want to get to Baltimore to-day. Do you think
you can manage it for them?"
The man addressed as Harris gazed at Webster and his companion in a
scrutinizing manner, and finally, apparently satisfied with his
investigation, signified his willingness to make the attempt, provided
the price he demanded, which was fifty dollars, was agreed to.
Both men assented to the payment of the sum named, and after dinner had
been partaken of, the two men took their seats in the vehicle, the
driver cracked his whip, and they were upon their way.
"I cannot promise to take you through to Baltimore," remarked the
driver, after they had started; "I was stopped twice on the road
yesterday, and I may not be able to pass the guards to-day."
"Do the best you can," said Webster, good-naturedly, "and we will take
the risk of a safe arrival."
Webster then turned to his companion, who had remained silent and
watchful ever since they had set out, and endeavored to engage him in
conversation. The bearer of dispatches, however, was very little
inclined to be sociable, and Webster had great difficulty in breaking
through the reserve which he resolved to maintain.
The further they journeyed, the more Webster became convinced that this
man was not what he assumed to be, but he vailed his suspicions
carefully, and appeared as frank and cordial in his manner as though
they were brothers.
Nothing worthy of note transpired upon the route until the party arrived
at the outskirts of Perrymansville, which had been the scene of
Webster's first experience in military service, and where, a few months
before, he had been a member of a company of cavalry. They were trotting
along quietly, and as the day was balmy and bright the ride was quite an
enjoyable one, and for a moment the detective forgot the grave duties
which he had undertaken and the dangers that might surround him, and
gave himself up to the full enjoyment of the scenes around him. His
pleasant reflections were short-lived, however, for just as they were
entering the town they saw a mounted cavalryman approaching, who, as he
reached the carriage, commanded them to halt.
The driver suddenly pulled up his horses, and then the soldier, in a
tone of authority: "Who are you, and where are you going?"
"We are residents of Baltimore," answered Webster, not at all dismayed
by the stern appearance and manner of his soldierly interlocutor, "and
we are endeavoring to get home."
"You will have to go with me," replied the soldier, decisively, "you
can't go any further without permission."
Here was a detention as unwelcome as it was unexpected, but Webster had
recognized the uniform worn by the soldier as that of the very company
of cavalry he had previously been a member of, and a duplicate of one in
which he had previously arrayed himself. The man who had accosted him,
however, was unknown to him, and he could, therefore, do nothing but
submit quietly to his orders and await a favorable operation of
circumstances.
As Webster glanced casually at his companion, the British messenger, he
was surprised at the change which was apparent in the expression of his
features. Instead of the calm, dignified air of watchful repose which he
had observed before, his face had grown pale, and there was such an
unmistakable evidence of fear about the man, that Webster's suspicions
were confirmed, and come what might he resolved to ascertain the nature
of his business before they parted company.
They had traveled but a short distance under the escort of their guard
when they met another man dressed in a similar uniform, and evidently a
member of the same company, and as Webster gazed at the new-comer he
experienced a sensation of relief and joy, for in him he recognized an
old companion in arms.
As this man approached nearer, Webster called out from the carriage, in
a cheery voice:
"Hello, Taylor! how are you?"
Thus suddenly accosted, the soldier rode up to the vehicle, and after a
momentary glance at the features of the detective, he reached forth his
hand and cordially saluted him.
"Why, Webster, how do you do? The boys said you would not come back, now
that the war had commenced, but I knew better, and I am glad to see
you."
The face of the reputed Englishman cleared in an instant, as he found
that his companion was among friends, and this effect was not lost upon
Webster, who had been furtively observing him. He turned his attention,
however, to the soldier who had addressed him.
"Oh, yes," he replied, "I have come back; and my friend here and I are
anxious to get to Baltimore as soon as possible."
"That will be all right," said the soldier; and then, turning to his
comrade, he said: "These men are all right, you will permit them to
pass."
After a few minutes spent in a pleasant conversation, the soldier handed
to Webster a pass which would prevent further interruption to their
journey, and with a mutual pull at a flask with which Webster had
provided himself before starting, the parties separated, and they
proceeded on their way.
This little incident produced a marked change in the demeanor of
Webster's companion, and on being informed that the soldiers were
Southerners, and not Federals, he seemed quite relieved.
By the time they were approaching the suburbs of Baltimore the stranger
had grown exceedingly communicative, and upon Webster hinting to him
that he also was engaged in the cause of the South, he without
hesitation informed my operative that he was similarly employed, and
that he was at present carrying dispatches to prominent Southern
sympathizers then residing in Washington.
As he communicated this important item of information Webster grasped
him warmly by the hand, and greeted him as a fellow-patriot, after
which, with rare good humor, they cemented their acquaintance and
confidence with a friendly draught from the spirit bottle.
Several times on their journey they were halted by the guards along the
roads, but the talismanic pass obtained at Perrymansville avoided all
questioning, and gained for the travelers a safe passage to their
destination. Arriving safely at the outskirts of Baltimore, the two men
left the carriage, and walking a short distance, they entered a street
car, and were driven to a retired hotel, where Webster had frequently
stopped when in the city on former occasions. Here they engaged quarters
for the night, and Webster's companion had by this time formed such an
attachment for his fellow-traveler that communicating rooms were
engaged, and after partaking of a hearty repast, the two men lighted
their cigars and strolled out through the city.
There were still many evidences of the riotous affrays which had but
lately taken place. The people were in a feverish state of excitement,
the drinking saloons and the corridors of the hotels were filled with
crowds of excited men, each of whom seemed to vie with the other in
giving loud expressions of their opinions, and of denouncing the attempt
of the government to transport armed troops through the streets of a
peaceful city. Ever mindful of the important duty devolving upon him,
Webster wisely forebore to engage in any conversation with those whom he
met, and among the number of the most outspoken of the Southern
sympathizers were many whom he had previously met, and to whom he was
known as an adherent of the South. At an early hour he and his newly
found companion returned to their hotel, and shortly afterward retired
for the night.
Arising early on the following morning, they found the same difficulty
was to be encountered that had been successfully overcome at the
commencement of their journey. The railroads between Baltimore and
Washington had also been torn up, so as to render the running of the
trains an impossibility. This fact necessitated the procuring of a team
that would convey them to the capital; but this time Webster's
acquaintance with the proprietors of the hotel, and several of the
permanent guests of the house, enabled them without difficulty or delay
to secure a pair of horses and a road wagon, with a trusty driver, who
guaranteed to carry them to Washington for the same amount which had
been paid upon the other portion of their journey, and at an early hour
they were upon the road to the seat of government.
Meantime Webster had been seriously considering his course of action
with regard to his fellow-passenger. That he was an agent of the
Confederacy he had already admitted, and that he was the bearer of
dispatches to prominent sympathizers with the South who were now living
in Washington, was also well known to the detective. How, therefore, to
arrange his plans, so that these papers would be intercepted and the
ambassador detained without arousing his suspicion? It must be
accomplished so that no delay should result to his own journey, as he
had resolved that his dispatches must be delivered that day. Just before
starting out an idea occurred to him, and requesting the driver to wait
a few minutes, as he had forgotten something in his room, he re-entered
the hotel, and going to the room they had occupied the evening before,
he hurriedly wrote a note which he folded up and placed in his pocket.
The note was as follows:
"TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:
"My companion is an emissary of the Confederacy, carrying
dispatches to Southern sympathizers in Washington. Apprehend
him, but do so discreetly and without compromising me.
T. W."
He then descended the stairs, and entering the wagon, they were driven
away towards Washington. The day was exceedingly warm, and the horses,
unused to long journeys, early began to show signs of weakness, but they
kept on without incident, save an occasional question from a passer-by
as to their destination, and about noon arrived at a hotel known as the
"Twelve-Mile House," so called from its being located at that distance
from Washington.
Here the party halted for dinner, and while engaged at their repast
Webster noticed at an opposite table a friend of years ago, who wore the
uniform of a Lieutenant of infantry. Fortunately, however, the officer
did not appear to recognize him, and during the progress of the dinner
Webster kept his face hidden as much as possible from his new-found
friend. As the Lieutenant ceased eating and arose from the table,
Webster, who also had about completed the bill of fare, arose, and
excusing himself to the driver and his companion, passed out into the
hallway and met the officer face to face. Cordial greetings were
interchanged, and in a few minutes Webster had detailed to his friend
the circumstances attending his meeting with the so-called British
messenger, and his suspicions concerning them. It was not long before a
plan had been arranged for the carrying out of the project of arresting
the pseudo Englishman without occasioning the slightest suspicion to
fall upon Timothy Webster, and shortly afterwards the Lieutenant mounted
his horse and rode off in the direction of Washington.
After smoking their after-dinner cigars, Webster and his companion again
resumed their journey. By this time they had become thoroughly
acquainted, and they enlivened their drive with many a pleasing anecdote
of experience or of invention, until they came in sight of Washington
city. Here a difficulty awaited them, apparently unexpected by both
travelers. A Lieutenant at the head of eight men emerged from a house by
the wayside, and in a voice of authority directed the driver to stop his
horses, after which he advanced to the vehicle and saluted the occupants
with the utmost courtesy, saying:
"Gentlemen, I am sorry to discommode you, but I have orders to intercept
all persons entering the city, and hold them until they can
satisfactorily account for themselves. You will be kind enough to
consider yourselves under arrest and follow me."
Blank astonishment was depicted on the countenances of both Webster and
his companion, but realizing that to parley would be useless, the two
men dismounted and followed the lieutenant and his men into the
building, which proved to be a military guard-house.
Here they were separated and conducted to different apartments, where
they were securely locked in, Webster's companion standing outside of
the door of the room in which Webster was placed, and after witnessing
the operation which confined Webster a prisoner, he was conducted to the
room assigned to him, and the key was turned upon him.
In a few minutes afterwards Webster was quietly released by the
Lieutenant who had effected his arrest, and who was none other than the
friend to whom he had given the information. In less than half an hour
thereafter my detective was ascending the steps of the White House,
inquiring for his Excellency, the President of the United States.
Having also been provided with a letter to the President's private
secretary, Mr. Nicolay, Webster was soon ushered into the presence of
Mr. Lincoln, to whom he made known the nature of his business, and
taking off his coat and vest, he removed the dispatches and letters, and
handed them to the President, who had been silently watching his
movements with a great deal of amused interest.
"You have brought quite a mail with you, Mr. Webster," said the
President, "more, perhaps, than it would be quite safe to attempt to
carry another time."
"Yes, sir," replied Webster. "I don't think I would like to carry so
much through Baltimore another time."
The President carefully looked over the papers he had just received, and
finding that they required more consideration than could be given to
them at that time, he turned to Webster and said:
"Mr. Webster, I have a Cabinet conference this evening, and I will not
be able to give these matters my attention until to-morrow. Come to me
at ten o'clock and I will see you at that time."
Again thanking the detective for the service he had so successfully
rendered, he bade him good evening, and Webster sought his hotel,
thoroughly exhausted with his journey, and soon after he was sound
asleep.
The next morning, on repairing to the White House, he was at once
admitted, and the President greeted him with marked evidences of
cordiality.
"Mr. Webster, you have rendered the country an invaluable service. The
bearer of dispatches who was arrested last evening by your efforts,
proved, as you suspected, to be an emissary of the South, and the
letters found upon him disclose a state of affairs here in Washington
quite alarming. Several prominent families here are discovered to be in
regular communication with the Southern leaders, and are furnishing
them with every item of information. Until this time we had only a
suspicion of this, but suspicion has now resolved itself into a
certainty. You have performed your duty well, and before many days there
will be an account demanded of some of these people which they are far
from expecting."
"I am glad to be of any service," replied Webster; "and I have done
nothing more than my duty. If you have any further commands for me, Mr.
President, I am ready to obey them."
"Very well," said the President; "take these telegrams, and when you
have reached a point where communication is possible, send them to
General McClellan, at Columbus, Ohio; they are important and must be
sent without delay. Also telegraph to Mr. Pinkerton to come to
Washington at once; his services are, I think, greatly needed by the
government at this time."
Rolling up the papers which he received, Webster placed them in the
center of a hollow cane, which he carried; then, replacing the handle,
and promising to attend faithfully to the duties assigned him, he left
the executive mansion.
CHAPTER VIII.
_Timothy Webster in Washington.--The Return to Philadelphia.--I go to
the Capital.--An Important Letter._
After leaving the White House, Timothy Webster went immediately in quest
of a conveyance that would enable him to reach Baltimore without
unnecessary delay. He expected to encounter greater difficulties in
obtaining what he desired here in Washington than he had met with in
Baltimore, for the reason that in the capital he was a comparative
stranger, while in the latter city he had numerous friends, who believed
him to be in sympathy with the Confederacy, and whose assistance he
could rely upon on that account. His only hope, therefore, lay in his
being able to find some friendly Baltimorean, upon whose influence he
could depend to procure him a mode of conveyance for his return. Having
arrived late on the preceding evening and being terribly fatigued by the
journey he had made, Webster had retired almost immediately after he
reached his hotel, and consequently he was surprised at the busy scenes
which greeted him now. The capital was swarming with soldiers and
civilians. Regiments continually arriving and were being assigned to
quarters and positions around the city, and the streets were filled with
eager and excited multitudes. The position which Maryland had assumed
was vehemently discussed everywhere, and the riotous conduct of the
Baltimoreans was loudly denounced by Northern men, and secretly
applauded by those whose sympathies were with the cause of the South.
The prompt action of General Butler, with his regiment of Massachusetts
soldiers, who followed quickly after the sixth, in going by boat
directly to Annapolis, in order to reach Washington without hindrance or
delay, and his patriotic and determined response to those in authority,
who sought to induce him to change his plans for reaching the capital,
were everywhere warmly commended. There could be no doubt that the North
was thoroughly aroused, and were dreadfully in earnest in their
determination to suppress a rebellion which they believed to be
causeless, unlawful and threatening the future of a great country.
As Webster walked along Pennsylvania Avenue, carefully scanning the
faces of every one he met in the hope of discovering some one whom he
knew and who might be of service to him, he recognized the driver who
had brought him from Baltimore on the day before, and who started in
astonishment at finding the man whom he had last seen a prisoner in the
hands of United States troops now walking the streets free and
unattended. This man was accompanied by three others, with two of whom
Webster was slightly acquainted, and he at once advanced toward them and
greeted them cordially.
"Why, Webster, is that you?" inquired the foremost of the party, a
well-known "sympathizer" of the name of John Maull. "We heard you had
been taken prisoner--how did you get out so soon?"
"That is easily accounted for," said Webster, with a laugh; "I was
simply arrested on suspicion, and when they could find nothing about me
that was at all suspicious, they were compelled to let me go."
"This country is coming upon strange times," remarked a sallow-faced
Baltimorean who boasted of having been one of the most prominent of the
rioters a few days before, "when a man can be arrested in this way and
have no means of redress."
"That is very true," replied Webster, "but we will have a decided change
before long, or I am very much mistaken. 'Uncle Jeff' means business,
and there will be long faces in Washington before many days."
"Give me your hand, old boy," exclaimed Maull heartily, "you are of the
right stripe; but don't talk so loud; let us go around the corner to a
quiet little place where we can talk without danger."
The party repaired to a drinking saloon, in a retired neighborhood, and
on entering it they were greeted warmly by several parties who were
standing before the bar. Webster was immediately introduced to these
gentlemen, and it was not long before he had firmly established himself
in their good opinions as a devoted friend of the South.
The conversation soon became general, and the most extravagant ideas
were expressed with regard to the wonderful achievements that were
expected of the Southern soldiers, and no doubt was entertained that the
Yankees, as they called the Northern men, would be quickly vanquished by
the chivalrous armies of the "Sunny South."
To all of these suggestions Webster yielded a ready assent, and not one
among the number was more pronounced in his belief in the needs of the
Southern cause than was my trusty operative, who, in the cane he
flourished so conspicuously, carried important dispatches from the
President of the United States to a General in command of Northern
soldiers.
All the time, however, he was growing very restive under the enforced
delay in his journey, and seeking a favorable opportunity during a lull
in the conversation, he turned to the driver of the wagon and inquired
of him when he was going to return to Baltimore.
"Not for a day or two, at least," replied the man.
"That is very bad," said Webster. "I must get there this evening; it is
of the utmost importance that I should do so."
At this one of the party approached Webster and informed him that he
was going back that day and had engaged a conveyance for that purpose,
and as there was room enough for two, he would be most happy to have his
company. Webster at once accepted the invitation, and having thus
relieved his anxiety upon the point of reaching Baltimore, he joined
heartily in the conversation that was going on around him. No one, to
have heard him, would doubt for a moment his loyalty to the South, or
his firm belief in the eventual triumph of her armies.
After remaining in the saloon for some time, Webster noticed that the
men were becoming intoxicated, and fearing that they would become noisy
and probably get into trouble, he suggested to the gentleman with whom
he was to drive to Baltimore the propriety of leaving the rest to their
enjoyment while they arranged matters for their departure. His advice
was at once accepted, and the two men bade their associates farewell and
repaired to the hotel, where they had their dinner, and about two
o'clock they were upon their journey. Webster's fears were proven to be
well-founded, for as they were passing the locality where they had spent
the morning, they saw their former companions between a file of
soldiers, and there was little doubt that they had allowed their
libations to overcome their judgments, and that they would be allowed to
recover their reason in a guard-house.
The journey was made without event, the carriage and driver being
apparently very well known along the route, and Webster arrived in
Baltimore late that evening. He was desirous of pushing on without
delay, as it was important that the dispatches which he carried should
be forwarded at once, and he therefore went immediately to the hotel he
had occupied when he first arrived in the city. Requesting the landlord
to use his best efforts to procure him a conveyance to Havre de Grace,
he sat down to his supper, and did ample justice to a plenteous repast.
When he had finished the landlord entered the room and informed him that
he had succeeded in providing a team for his service, but that grave
doubts were entertained whether he would succeed in reaching his
destination. Expressing his willingness to assume any responsibility of
that kind, Webster bade his entertainer good-bye, and entering the
wagon, he started upon his midnight journey to Havre de Grace.
Again fortune favored him, and although repeatedly halted, he was able
to give such a straightforward account of himself that they were allowed
to proceed, and he arrived in Havre de Grace in time for breakfast.
Crossing the river, he went directly to the headquarters of Colonel
Dare, who was in charge of the Union troops at Perrysville, and
requested that officer to forward the telegram to General McClellan at
once. This the Colonel promised to do, and in a few minutes the
important message was flying over the wires to its destination at
Columbus, Ohio, and the President's request for my appearance at
Washington followed soon after, and was received by me in due time.
Recognizing the importance of the call, I lost no time in answering the
dispatch of Mr. Lincoln, and started at once on my journey to
Washington, accompanied only by a trusty member of my force. Before
leaving I left orders that should I fail to meet with Webster upon the
way he should be directed to await my return in the city of Pittsburg.
On my arrival at Perrysville I found that a mode of communication had
been hurriedly established with Washington, by means of a boat which
sailed down the Chesapeake Bay and landed their passengers at Annapolis,
from which point the railroad travel to Washington was uninterrupted.
Arriving at the capital I found a condition of affairs at once peculiar
and embarrassing, and the city contained a strange admixture of
humanity, both patriotic and dangerous. Here were gathered the rulers of
the nation and those who were seeking its destruction. The streets were
filled with soldiers, armed and eager for the fray; officers and
orderlies were seen galloping from place to place; the tramp of armed
men was heard on every side, and strains of martial music filled the
air. Here, too, lurked the secret enemy, who was conveying beyond the
lines the coveted information of every movement made or contemplated.
Men who formerly occupied places of dignity, power and trust were now
regarded as objects of suspicion, whose loyalty was impeached and whose
actions it was necessary to watch. Aristocratic ladies, who had
previously opened the doors of their luxurious residences to those high
in office and who had hospitably entertained the dignitaries of the
land, were now believed to be in sympathy with the attempt to overthrow
the country, and engaged in clandestine correspondence with Southern
leaders. The criminal classes poured in from all quarters, and almost
every avenue of society was penetrated by these lawless and unscrupulous
hordes. An adequate idea can be formed of the transformation which had
been effected within a few short weeks in this city of national
government.
On the day following my arrival I wended my way to the White House and
sought an interview with the President. Around the executive mansion
everything was in a state of activity and bustle. Messengers were
running frantically hither and thither; officers in uniform were
gathered in clusters, engaged in animated discussions of contemplated
military operations; department clerks were bustling about, and added to
these was a crowd of visitors, all anxious, like myself, to obtain an
interview with the Chief Executive.
I was not required to wait an unusual length of time, and I was soon
ushered into the presence of Mr. Lincoln, who greeted me cordially and
introduced me to the several members of the Cabinet who were engaged
with him. I was at once informed that the object in sending for me was
that the authorities had for some time entertained the idea of
organizing a secret-service department of the government, with the view
of ascertaining the social, political and patriotic status of the
numerous suspected persons in and around the city. As yet, no definite
plans had been adopted, and I was requested to detail my views upon the
subject, in order that the matter might be intelligently considered, and
such action taken as would lead to definite and satisfactory results. I
accordingly stated to them the ideas which I entertained upon the
subject, as fully and concisely as I was able to do at the time, and,
after I had concluded, I took my departure, with the understanding that
I would receive further communications from them in a few days.
It was very evident to me, however, that in the confusion and excitement
which were necessarily incident to the novel and perplexing condition of
affairs then existing, that anything approaching to a systematized
organization or operation would be for a time impossible. The necessity
for war had come so suddenly upon a peaceful community that there had
been as yet but little time for thorough preparation or system. The
raising of a large army, with all the various contingencies of
uniforming, arming and drilling; the furnishing of supplies, and the
assigning of quarters, were occupying the attention of the rulers of the
government, and I felt confident that I would be required to wait a
longer time than I could then conveniently spare from my business, ere I
would be favored with any definite instructions from those in authority.
This opinion was fully confirmed, after several unsuccessful attempts to
obtain satisfying particulars from the heads of several of the
departments, and leaving my address with the secretary of the President,
I returned to Philadelphia.
I had directed, prior to leaving Chicago, that all important
communications addressed to me should be forwarded to that city, and on
my arrival there I found a number of letters which required immediate
attention.
Among the number was the following, which had been somewhat delayed in
its transmission.
"COLUMBUS, OHIO,
April 24, 1861.
"ALLAN PINKERTON, Esq.,
"Dear Sir:--
"I wish to see you with the least possible delay, to make
arrangements with you of an important nature. I will be
either here or in Cincinnati for the next few days--here
to-morrow--Cincinnati next day. In this city you will find
me at the Capitol, at Cincinnati at my residence.
"If you telegraph me, better use your first name alone. Let
no one know that you come to see me, and keep as quiet as
possible.
"Very truly yours,
"GEO. B. MCCLELLAN,
"Maj. Gen'l Comd'g Ohio Vols.
This letter at once decided me. Anxious as I was to serve the country in
this, the hour of her need, I sought the first opportunity for active
duty that presented itself, and I left Philadelphia at once, in order to
comply with the instructions contained in this message of Gen.
McClellan.
[Illustration: STORMING A FORT.]
CHAPTER IX.
_An Adventure in Pittsburg.--A Mob at Bay.--An
Explanation.--Good-feeling Restored._
Several influences operated in my mind to induce me to respond at once
to this letter, and some of them of a directly personal nature. I had
been acquainted with General McClellan for a long time before this, and
had been intimately associated with him while engaged upon various
important operations connected with the Illinois Central and the Ohio
and Mississippi Railroads, of the latter of which he was then president.
From the friendship and esteem I entertained for him growing out of my
relations with him in those matters, both as an individual and as an
executive officer, I felt the more anxious to enter into his service,
now that he had assumed the command of a military department, and was
about to take an active part in the impending struggle.
At Philadelphia I ascertained that Timothy Webster had already departed
for Pittsburg, according to previous instructions, and hastily
telegraphing to the General that I would instantly respond to his letter
in person, I took the first train leading westward and was soon upon my
way.
Timothy Webster, meanwhile, had proceeded on his journey from
Perrysville, and arrived without accident or adventure in Philadelphia.
He immediately repaired to the office of Mr. Dunn, who informed him that
he had just received a dispatch for him from Chicago. Webster hastily
opened the message and found my directions for him to await my return at
the city of Pittsburg. Remaining in the Quaker City until the following
day, he took the western train and in due time arrived at his
destination. On inquiring at the telegraph office in Pittsburg he
received another message to the same effect as the first one, and he
therefore engaged quarters at a hotel, patiently awaiting my coming. On
the second day after his arrival in the Smoky City, which was Sunday, he
again went to the telegraph office, where he received information that I
would probably arrive there in the course of that day.
Returning to the hotel, Webster entered the bar-room, and while he was
being attended to two men came in, apparently engaged in excited
conversation. They advanced to the bar and requested drinks. The
excitement in the city, attendant upon the news from Baltimore, had not
abated in the least since Webster had passed through several days
before, and these two men were discussing the action of the government
in regard to this matter. One of them, an excitable, empty-headed
fellow, was cursing the President and General Scott, in very loud tones
and in unmeasured terms, for not burning the city of Baltimore to
ashes, and thus teaching the rebels a lesson they would be apt to
remember. The remonstrances of his friend seemed only to excite him
still more, and Webster, feeling desirous of avoiding any controversy at
that time, started to leave the saloon, when the angry disputant turned
to him, and arrogantly demanded his opinion of the matter.
"I think," said Webster, "that the President and General Scott
understand their duties much better than I can inform them, and I
suppose they do not wish to destroy the property of many who are true to
the government."
"That is all nonsense," replied the other, sharply, "there is not a
single Union man in the whole city."
"I think you are mistaken," said Webster, coolly. "I am sure there are
thousands of them there."
This answer seemed to infuriate the man, and striding up to Webster, he
asked, with an air of impertinence:
"Are you a Southern man?"
"No, sir, I was born in New York," was the reply.
"What is your name?" impudently demanded the fellow.
"You will find my name upon the register of the hotel, if you desire it,
and as I do not wish to have any further controversy with you, I bid you
good morning," replied Webster, still remaining cool and unruffled.
By this time a crowd of about twenty men had gathered about them, and
as Webster turned to leave the room, one of them demanded to know the
contents of the telegram he had just received.
This demand, added to the previous suggestion that Webster was a
Southern man, was sufficient to excite the entire crowd, who had been
living upon excitement for more than a week, and they began to press
around him in a threatening manner, one of them calling out:
"I believe he is a d--d spy; let us see what he has got!"
Webster broke loose from those nearest to him, and retreating backwards
toward the door, exclaimed, in a determined voice:
"Gentlemen, I am no spy, and if any of you attempt to trouble me
further, some of you will assuredly get hurt!"
At this the crowd grew boisterous and violent, and several called out,
"Hang him!" "Hang the spy!" while some of them made a rush toward where
he stood.
Drawing his revolver, Webster faced his angry assailants, who drew back
involuntarily when they saw that he was both well armed and undismayed.
"Gentlemen, we have had enough of this nonsense. You can talk about
hanging me, and perhaps there are enough of you to do it, but, by God,
the first one that attempts to put his hands upon me is a dead man!"
Matters began to look serious. It seemed evident that these excited
people were determined to resort to violence, and that there would be
bloodshed in consequence. Webster, whose relations with the government
were of so intensely loyal a character, was filled with regret at having
allowed himself to become a party to a conversation which would lead to
such serious consequences. He was resolved, however, to maintain his
position. To show signs of weakness, therefore, would be dangerous, if
not fatal, to him, and he stood bravely in front of the angry mob, who
had drawn back at the sight of the revolver which was leveled so
menacingly at them.
Only for a moment, however, did the crowd stand awed and irresolute--one
moment of silence, in which every man appeared to be deciding for
himself his course of action. Then one tall, stalwart man stepped from
their midst, and waving his hand toward his companions, he cried out:
"Come on, he is only one against twenty, and we will take him dead, or
alive!"
The crowd took a few steps in advance, and Webster had braced himself to
receive their attack, when suddenly, close beside him stood a form, and
a loud voice called out:
"Stop, gentlemen, where you are! This man is no traitor, and I will
defend him with my life!" and the muzzles of two revolvers ranged
themselves beside that presented by the suspected, but undismayed
detective.
[Illustration: "_Stop, Gentlemen, where you are._" P. 146.]
Involuntarily the crowd stood still at this unexpected arrival of
reinforcements, and Webster, who had recognized the voice, looked up in
surprise and relief at this unlooked-for, though timely, assistance.
I had arrived just in the nick of time, and I was resolved to defend my
undaunted operative to the last.
At this moment the proprietor of the hotel entered the saloon, and in a
calm voice and quiet manner attempted to subdue the angry feelings of
the bystanders.
"Gentlemen," said he, "there need be no trouble about this matter; Mr.
Webster can fully explain his position, and I think the best plan would
be for you all to repair to the office of the mayor, where any
explanation can be given."
"I am perfectly willing to do that," said I; "I know this man, and will
answer for him under any circumstances; we will accompany you to the
office of the mayor at once, and I think I can convince him that he is
no spy."
This proposition was eagerly accepted by some, and reluctantly by
others, and finally the entire party marched out of the hotel on their
way to the office of the chief magistrate of the city; Webster and
myself walking together.
The crowd increased as we went on, and frequent calls were still made to
"hang the traitor," but no further attempts were made to molest us, and
we reached the office without any event of a troublesome nature
occurring.
The noise of the crowd attracted the attention of the chief of police,
who, during the temporary absence of the mayor, was in charge of affairs
of this nature, and he came to the door to ascertain the occasion of the
tumult.
As the crowd, with Webster and myself in the van, reached the steps
which led up to the municipal office, I at once recognized the chief of
police, having been connected with him some time before in the detection
of some burglars from the city of Pittsburg, and that officer was not
slow to identify me as the detective, who had frequently enabled him to
secure the desperate criminals whom the law had at various times
pursued.
As we reached the platform where the officer was standing, I stretched
forth my hand, which the chief cordially grasped.
"Why, Mr. Pinkerton, what are you doing here?" inquired the chief, with
some surprise.
"I have come to defend one of my men, whom these people insist upon
hanging as a rebel spy, but who is loyal to the core," I answered,
laughingly.
"I will take care of that," replied the chief, "and your word is
sufficient for me," at the same time extending his disengaged hand and
warmly greeting Webster, who stood beside me.
As the crowd noticed the evident acquaintance and good-feeling that
existed between the reputed spy and their chief of police, they drew
back instinctively, while some of them looked as if they were not
insensible to a feeling of shame. The chief realized the state of
affairs at once, and turning to the now crestfallen and subdued
gathering, he addressed them:
"Gentlemen, I will be responsible for the loyalty and integrity of these
gentlemen, and you will instantly disperse."
The leaders of this assault on Webster looked terribly ashamed of
themselves when they found how ridiculously they had been acting, and as
the door of the chief's office closed on our retreating figures, they
slowly and silently retired.
In an hour afterwards, when Webster and I returned to the hotel, we
found the gentlemen who a short time before were anxious to hang him,
awaiting our arrival, and we received from them their heartfelt
apologies for their hasty and inconsiderate conduct, all of which were
received with a spirit of good nature that won the regards of all
present, and when the time of our departure arrived, they accompanied us
to the depot in a body, and cheered us lustily as the train slowly moved
away.
Thus an adventure, which promised to be very serious in its results,
terminated in a manner satisfactory to all, and Webster and myself,
instead of being lynched by a Pittsburg mob, departed in safety on our
journey, and arrived in Cincinnati upon the following day, prepared to
receive from General McClellan such instructions as were deemed
necessary by him for the furtherance of the cause in which he was
engaged.
[Illustration: BETRAYED BY HIS BOOTS.]
CHAPTER X.
_General McClellan in Command of Ohio.--I am Engaged for the War.--The
Secret Service.--A Consultation.--Webster starts for Rebeldom._
At the outbreak of the rebellion many difficulties were encountered
which the people and their leaders were ill-prepared to surmount, and
many expedients were resorted to in order to equip and officer the
troops as they arrived. The State of Ohio, the militia of which General
McClellan had been called upon to command by Governor Dennison, was no
exception to this rule; but that gentleman realized the importance of
calling some one to the command of the volunteers, upon whose knowledge,
judgment and experience he could place implicit reliance. He therefore
turned to Captain McClellan, who was a graduate of West Point, and had
been a captain in the regular army, but who had for some years past been
devoting himself to the management of a prominent railroad enterprise in
the State.
The Governor at once sent a communication to the general government,
requesting that McClellan should be restored to his old rank in the
army, and that the duty of organizing the Ohio volunteers should be
assigned to him. To this request no answer was received, and it was
afterwards learned that the Governor's letter, owing to the interruption
of communications with Washington from all points, had not reached its
destination. Failing, therefore, to receive any reply from the general
government, and being thus forced to rely upon his own resources,
Governor Dennison at once summoned McClellan to Columbus, where the
latter applied himself earnestly to the work of organizing the numerous
volunteer regiments which offered their services to the country. The
State laws were changed in such a manner as to allow the Governor to
select commanding officers for these volunteers outside of the members
of the State militia, and very soon afterward the Ohio troops were
commanded by thoroughly competent men, who had made military movements
the subject of scientific study.
On the third day of May a "Department of the Ohio" was formed,
consisting of the combined forces of Ohio, Indiana and Illinois, and
this department, by order of General Scott, was placed under the command
of General McClellan.
The Ohio troops, as they arrived, were mainly located at Camp Dennison,
which was situated in a valley about sixteen miles northwesterly from
the city of Cincinnati. This was the largest and the chief camp in the
State, and here the volunteers received that thorough instruction and
training so essential in preparing for the rigors of war.
As I have stated, my personal acquaintance with George B. McClellan had,
from its earliest incipiency, been of the most agreeable and amicable
nature, and when I called at his house in Ludlow street, as I did
immediately upon my arrival in Cincinnati, I was received with genuine
cordiality. After we were closeted together I explained fully to him the
character of the business that had called me to Washington, and how the
complication of affairs at the seat of government necessitated so much
delay that I had found it imperative upon me to leave without arriving
at any definite understanding with the President.
The General had already been advised of his elevation in rank, and among
other things desired to consult with me in relation to his affairs at
the War Department.
I need not stop to give the details of that interview. His object in
sending for me was to secure my aid and co-operation in the organization
of a secret service for his department, and finding me more than willing
to do all in my power to help along the cause of the Union, he
immediately laid before me all his plans.
Our business was settled. It arranged that I should assume full
management and control of this new branch of the service, and that I
should at once enter upon the discharge of the multifarious duties
attending so responsible a position. The General then informed me that
he would write to General Scott for permission to organize this
department under his own personal supervision; and he also agreed to
submit the project to Governor Dennison, of Ohio, with a request to that
gentleman to solicit the co-operation of the Governors of Illinois,
Indiana, Michigan and Wisconsin, in sustaining the organization.
To this arrangement I gave a ready assent, and we then entered upon the
discussion of affairs requiring immediate attention. Several measures,
more or less important, had suggested themselves to my mind while the
General was talking, and in the course of the conversation which
followed, I presented them for his consideration. It was a relief to me
to find that at the outset there was no clash of opinion between us, and
I felt confident that there was not likely to be any in the future.
For several days my time was principally taken up in private
consultations with General McClellan, in laying out a line of
operations, by which I was to assist in making arrangements for bringing
my own force into active duty at the earliest possible hour. I rented a
suite of rooms and fitted up an office in Cincinnati, where I called
about me some of the most capable and trustworthy detectives in my
employ, and impressed upon them the great importance of the tasks that
were about to be imposed upon them.
The general informed me that he would like observations made within the
rebel lines, and I resolved to at once send some scouts into the
disaffected region lying south of us, for the purpose of obtaining
information concerning the numbers, equipments, movements and intentions
of the enemy, as well as to ascertain the general feeling of the
Southern people in regard to the war. I fully realized the delicacy of
this business, and the necessity of conducting it with the greatest
care, caution and secrecy. None but good, true, reliable men could be
detailed for such service, and knowing this, I made my selections
accordingly; my thoughts reverting first of all to Timothy Webster.
Within six hours after the commander had expressed his wishes to me,
Timothy Webster was on his way to Louisville, with instructions to
proceed southward from that city to Memphis, stopping at Bowling Green
and Clarkesville on the way.
In Webster's case it was not necessary to devote much time to
instructions, except as to his line of travel, for he was a man who
understood the whole meaning of a mission like this, and one who would
perform his duty with that faithfulness and ability by which he had
fairly earned the confidence I now reposed in him.
Within a few days I also sent out other scouts, singly and in pairs, on
the different routes that had been carefully prepared for them, and in a
short time quite a number of my best operatives were engaged upon more
or less difficult and dangerous tasks, all tending to the same end.
In organizing and controlling this secret service, I endeavored to
conceal my own individual identity so far as my friends and the public
were concerned. The new field of usefulness into which I had ventured
was designed to be a secret one in every respect, and for obvious
reasons I was induced to lay aside the name of Allan Pinkerton--a name
so well known that it had grown to be a sort of synonym for detective. I
accordingly adopted the less suggestive one of E. J. Allen; a _nom de
guerre_ which I retained during the entire period of my connection with
the war. This precautionary measure was first proposed by the General
himself, and in assenting to it I carried out his views as well as my
own. This ruse to conceal my identity was a successful one. My true name
was known only to General McClellan, and those of my force who were in
my employ before the breaking out of the rebellion, and by them it was
sacredly kept. Indeed, I doubt if McClellan has ever divulged it to this
day, if I may judge by the frequent occurrence of such incidents as the
following:
A short time since, while on a visit to my New York agency, I chanced to
meet one of my old army friends, General Fitz-John Porter. He recognized
me, gave me a hearty greeting, and proceeded to address me as Major
Allen, after the custom of by-gone days. I permitted the conversation
to go on for some time, and then said:
"Are you not aware, General, that the name of E. J. Allen, which I used
during the war, was a fictitious one?"
He looked at me, as if to satisfy himself that I was not jesting, and
then exclaimed:
"Fictitious! You are not in earnest, Major?"
I assured him that I was never more so.
"Why, I never suspected such a thing. What, then, is your true name?"
"Allan Pinkerton," I replied.
"Allan Pinkerton!" he ejaculated.
His astonishment knew no bounds, and he declared it was the first
intimation he had ever had that Allan Pinkerton and Major Allen were one
and the same person.
It was on the thirteenth of May that Timothy Webster left Cincinnati on
his trip southward. He arrived at Louisville, Ky., late in the night,
and remained there until the following day, when he pursued his course
into the heart of that self-satisfied State which only desired to be
"let alone."
It is not my purpose to give in detail all the events of Webster's
journey, as there was much that would only prove tedious at this late
day, though at that time regarded as of the utmost importance to the
country. Shrewd, wide-awake, and keen as a blood-hound on the scent, he
allowed nothing to escape him, but quietly jotted down every item of
intelligence that could possibly be of advantage to the Union army, and
picked up many important points, which would have escaped the notice of
a man of less detective experience and ability.
He stopped a day or two at Bowling Green, Ky., and then proceeded on to
Clarkesville, Tenn. He made friends of all he met, and cleverly
ingratiated himself into the good graces of those whom he believed might
be of service to him. He was a "Hail, fellow! well met," "A prince of
good fellows," a genial, jovial, convivial spirit, with an inexhaustible
fund of anecdote and amusing reminiscences, and a wonderful faculty for
making everybody like him. He partook of soldiers' fare in the rebel
camp, shook hands warmly with raw recruits, joked and laughed with petty
officers, became familiar with colonels and captains, and talked
profoundly with brigadier-generals. He was apparently an enthusiastic
and determined rebel, and in a few cunningly-worded sentences he would
rouse the stagnant blood of his hearers till it fairly boiled with
virtuous indignation against Yankees in general, and "Abe Linkin" in
particular.
Webster's talent in sustaining a _role_ of this kind amounted to
positive genius, and it was this that forced me to admire the man as
sincerely as I prized his services. Naturally, he was of a quiet,
reserved disposition, seldom speaking unless spoken to, and never
betraying emotion or excitement under any pressure of circumstances.
His face always wore that calm, imperturbable expression denoting a
well-balanced mind and a thorough self-control, while the immobile
countenance and close-set lips showed that he was naturally as
inscrutable as the Sphinx. Many of his associates were of the opinion
that he was cold and unfeeling, but _I_ knew there could be no greater
mistake than this; _I_ knew that a manlier, nobler heart never existed
than that which beat within the broad breast of Timothy Webster; and I
knew that, reserved and modest as he was, he was never wanting in
courtesy, never derelict in his duty, never behind his fellows in acts
of kindness and mercy.
It was when he was detailed for such operations as the one in question
that his disposition underwent a complete metamorphosis. Then his
reserve vanished, and he became the chatty, entertaining boon companion,
the hero of the card-table, the story-teller of the bar-room, or the
lion of the social gathering, as the exigencies of the case might
require. He could go into a strange place and in one day surround
himself with warm friends, who would end by telling him all he desired
to know. In a life-time of varied detective experience, I have never met
one who could more readily and agreeably adapt himself to circumstances.
Webster represented himself as a resident of Baltimore, and gave graphic
accounts of the recent troubles in that city; of the unpleasant position
in which the "friends of the cause" were placed by the proximity and
oppression of Northern troops, and of the outraged feelings of the
populace when the "Lincoln hirelings" marched through the streets of the
Monumental City. His eyes seemed to flash with indignation during the
recital, and it would have been difficult indeed to induce his audience
to believe that he was acting a part, or that his heart was not with the
South.
On the morning of his departure from Clarkesville quite a number of
soldiers and citizens, who had become attached to him during his brief
sojourn with them, accompanied him to the depot, shook him warmly by the
hand at parting, and earnestly wished him God-speed. He told them all
that he hoped to see them again soon, and waved them a smiling adieu
from the platform of the car, as the train whirled him away toward
Memphis.
As the train stopped on the east bank of the Tennessee river, and the
passengers swarmed out of the cars, Webster noticed a man take the
conductor aside and engage in earnest conversation with him for a few
moments. This man was a dark-complexioned, sharp-visaged, long-haired
individual, clad in civilian's garb, and wearing a broad-brimmed hat.
There was an air of mystery about him which attracted more than a
passing glance from the scout, and caused the latter to keep an eye on
him thereafter.
The passengers were obliged to cross the river in a ferry-boat. The
train going south was in waiting on the other side, and its conductor
stood on the bank alone, making entries in his memorandum-book. As soon
as the boat touched the land the man with the long hair and
broad-brimmed hat sprang ashore and approached the conductor, to whom he
began to talk in the same hurried, nervous manner that he had done to
the one on the other side. As the time for starting approached, the
mysterious stranger and the conductor walked toward the train together,
conversing excitedly as they went.
"There's something up," thought Webster, as he boarded the train.
"Perhaps that fellow is on the look-out for new-comers like myself; but
we'll see whether he is sharp enough to catch a weasel asleep."
For the first twenty miles after leaving the Tennessee river, the road
lay through an uncultivated region of swamps and heavy timber. At every
station along the route uniformed men, heavy guns, car-loads of muskets
and ammunition were seen, indicating general and active preparations for
war, while the secession flag was flying in the breeze, and the music of
fife and drum was frequently borne to the ear. At Humboldt, where the
train arrived at four o'clock in the afternoon, they were delayed for
some time, and Webster improved the opportunity to look around him and
to procure his dinner. The man with the broad-brimmed hat seated himself
almost opposite Webster at table, who noticed that his restless,
inquisitive eyes were kept busy scrutinizing every face that came within
range of his vision. He did not address himself to any one during the
progress of the repast, and after hurriedly satisfying his own appetite,
he walked out upon the platform of the depot, where he stood intently
watching the other passengers as they returned to the train.
Webster, as he crossed the platform, instinctively felt that those
searching eyes were riveted upon him as if they would pierce him
through, but he did not evince the slightest degree of trepidation or
uneasiness under the ordeal. Assuming an air of quiet unconsciousness,
he sauntered past the man without seeming to notice him, and entered the
smoking-car, coolly lighted a cigar, drew a Nashville newspaper from his
pocket, and settled himself to his reading. He saw no more of the
mysterious stranger during the remainder of the journey, but on
alighting from the train at the Memphis depot, the first object that met
his gaze was the wearer of the broad-brimmed hat.
Arriving in Memphis at nine o'clock in the evening, Webster went
directly to the Worsham House, where he intended to stay while in the
city. While registering his name he observed a military officer in full
uniform standing at his elbow, watching him closely as he wrote. Several
other new arrivals placed their signatures after Webster, and he then
noticed that the officer was engaged in making a copy of names and
addresses on a piece of paper.
While watching this proceeding, his attention was distracted by some one
hastily entering the hotel office. It was his mysterious
fellow-traveler, who, stepping into the center of the room, glanced
quickly around, apparently looking for some particular face. The search
was evidently successful, for, walking up to one of the men who had just
arrived on the train from the North, he tapped him on the shoulder and
beckoned him.
After a few moments' conversation, during which the new-comer appeared
to be both surprised and frightened, the two left the hotel together and
walked up the street arm in arm.
Two citizens who were lounging near the door had been interested
spectators of this incident, and Webster heard one of them inquire:
"What does that mean?"
"It means that the stranger is under arrest," replied his companion.
"Under arrest? And who is the man who arrested him?"
"Oh, he is a member of the safety committee."
"But what crime has the stranger committed, that he should thus be taken
into custody?"
"Nothing, perhaps; but the fact that he is a stranger from the North, is
sufficient to mark him as an object of suspicion."
"Isn't that a little severe?"
"Severe? It's a necessity in these times. For my part, I am in for
hanging every Northern man who comes here, unless he can give the most
satisfactory proof that he is not a spy."
The rest of the conversation did not reach Webster's ear, and, being
much fatigued by his day's journey, he soon retired, to seek that much
needed rest which slumber only could afford.
He rose at an early hour in the morning, feeling much refreshed. On
entering the dining-room he found it crowded with guests, the majority
of whom wore the uniform and shoulder-straps of Confederate officers.
The conversation around the table was upon the all-absorbing theme which
at that time was uppermost in every mind, and the scout was both amused
and edified by what he heard. He did not long remain a silent listener,
but taking his cue at the proper moment he entered easily and naturally
into the conversation himself, and his pleasing address and intelligent
observations commanded at once the respectful attention of those around
him.
After breakfast Webster determined to ascertain whether or not he was
under the surveillance of the vigilance committee, and he accordingly
left the hotel, and wended his way toward the post-office.
He had not proceeded far when he noticed a man who appeared to be
following him on the opposite side of the street. Desiring to satisfy
himself upon this point he walked on for several blocks, and then
dropped into a saloon. Remaining there a sufficient length of time for
the man to pass from view, in case he did not stop in his onward course,
he emerged from the saloon and retraced his steps toward the hotel. As
he did so he noticed the stranger on the other side of the street,
dogging him as before. This left no doubt in his mind that he was being
shadowed, and he resolved to be guarded in his movements, to refrain
from writing any reports or making any notes that could possibly betray
him. He returned to the office and bar-room of the Worsham Hotel, and
spent an hour or two reading and smoking. While thus occupied, three
military officers entered and stood near the bar engaged in animated
conversation. Webster sauntered toward them, and heard one of the
trio--a man whom the others addressed as "Doctor"--remark emphatically:
"Yes, gentlemen, that is a true principle. It will not do to let a man
set foot on Kentucky soil until the Northern troops disregard the
neutrality of that State."
Catching the drift of the conversation, Webster stepped forward and
said:
"I beg pardon, sir; will you permit me to ask one question?"
The three officers turned toward him, with expressions of mild surprise
in their faces, and the Doctor replied:
"Certainly, sir; certainly."
"Do you suppose," added Webster, "that Kentucky will allow the Northern
army to march through the State without showing fight?"
"Not by a jug-full," was the prompt response. "The moment the Northern
army crosses the Ohio river, Kentucky will rise in arms and take sides
with the South."
"If she doesn't," said Webster, with much apparent warmth, "she will
prove herself unworthy of the respect of any true Southern men!"
The Doctor's face brightened up, and he laid his hand approvingly on the
scout's shoulder.
"May I ask where you are from?"
"I was born in Kentucky and reared in Maryland," was the quiet reply,
"and I am now direct from Baltimore."
"Baltimore!" ejaculated the whole trio in chorus; and the next moment
were all shaking hands in the
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