Later that night, William Henry Seward’s son Frederick reported a similar tale to Lincoln. General Winfield Scott had learned from the newly appointed inspector general of the District of Columbia, Colonel Charles P. Stone, that conspirators planned to assassinate the president-elect as he passed through Baltimore. Stone’s informant was a New York detective, David S. Bookstaver, who had been snooping about Baltimore for three weeks. On the morning of February 21, as Lincoln left New York, Bookstaver told Stone “that there is serious danger of violence to and the assassination of Mr Lincoln in his passage through that city should the time of that passage be known. He states that there are banded rowdies holding secret meetings, and that he has heard threats of mobbing and violence, and has himself heard men declare that if Mr Lincoln was to be assassinated they would like to be the men. He states further that it is only within the past few days that he has considered there was any danger, but now he deems it imminent. He deems the danger one which the authorities & people in Baltimore cannot guard against. All risk might be easily avoided by a change in the travelling arrangements which would bring Mr Lincoln & a portion of his party through Baltimore by a night train without previous notice.”186
General Scott reported this information to Seward, who wrote Lincoln urging him to change his travel plans. When the senator’s son handed him that letter, Lincoln inquired about the sources of Stone’s information, explaining that there “were stories or rumours some time ago, before I left home, about people who were intending to do me a mischief. I never attached much importance to them—never wanted to believe any such thing. So I never would do anything about them, in the way of taking precautions and the like.” But Stone’s warning, based on sources different from Pinkerton’s, convinced Lincoln to take the threat seriously.187
The president-elect received other such warnings, most notably from Captain George W. Hazzard, who was part of his military escort. In an undated memorandum, probably composed on board the train, Hazzard, who had spent several years in Baltimore, recommended that Lincoln avoid passing through that city as originally scheduled. He alleged that Police Chief Kane lacked integrity and had not controlled the city’s notoriously violent gangs; that the police would not provide adequate protection; that several thugs in Baltimore would gladly sacrifice their own lives “for having stabbed a ‘black republican president’ ”; and that Baltimore’s leading citizens and newspapers favored secession. To support his argument, Hazzard cited “the violent assaults made, in the presence of the whole police force commanded by Marshal Kane in person, on the republican procession in that city last summer” and “the murder of one policeman by a rowdy, for attempting to arrest another rowdy for an assault—and the shooting of a second policeman by a couple of assassins while standing at his own fireside for swearing to the identity of the individual who had killed the first policeman.” To avoid danger, Hazzard urged Lincoln to bypass Baltimore altogether or to slip through the town incognito.188 (None of the reminiscences of people involved in this affair refers to Hazzard’s memo, but it seems unlikely that it would have been ignored.)
On December 30, a man from Boston sojourning in Baltimore had warned Lincoln that “it will be madness for you to attempt to reach Washington at any time,” for the citizens of Baltimore were such rabid secessionists that they had threatened his own life for merely suggesting that the president-elect was a gentleman.189 An anonymous woman similarly wrote Lincoln that she had been assured “that there existed in Baltimore, a league of ten persons, who had sworn that you should never pass through that city alive.”190 Ominously, the city fathers planned no official greeting or reception for the president-elect, nor did the governor or the legislature do so. All these warning signs made it seem prudent to heed the advice of Pinkerton, Felton, Seward, Judd, Hazzard, et al. and avoid passing through Baltimore as originally planned. Judd warned Lincoln that “the proofs that have now been laid before you cannot be published” lest they compromise Pinkerton’s agents. “If you follow the course suggested—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.”
Lincoln replied firmly: “I’ve Known Pinkerton for years and have Known and tested his truthfulness and sagacity and my judgement co-incides with yours.” Authorizing Pinkerton to make all necessary arrangements, he agreed to return to Philadelphia that evening and take the late train to Washington surreptitiously. Cool and calm, Lincoln predicted that he would face no danger once he reached Washington.191 (But in fact, he did receive death threats after his arrival at the capital, and Judd asked Felton to continue investigating rumors of assassination plots.) Later, Lincoln explained to Congressman Isaac N. Arnold: “I did not then, nor do I now, believe I should have been assassinated, had I gone through Baltimore, as first contemplated; but I thought it wise to run no risk, where no risk was necessary.”192
On February 24, Police Chief Kane retroactively confirmed the wisdom of the itinerary change, saying: “There would have been a riot if Mr. Lincoln had crossed the city according to the original program. The Plugs on the one hand were determined on giving him a rousing reception, and the Tubs (a democratic organization) were equally determined to prevent the Plugs from giving the president elect any reception at all. The feeling was so violent between these two parties that a fight would certainly have attended Lincoln’s passage through the city. … when blood has once been shed, they are not controllable. In the row, Mr. Lincoln would have been grossly insulted and probably killed.”193 The Baltimore correspondent of the New Orleans Picayune reached the same conclusion. Others believed that an attack was planned on the Republicans greeting the train rather than on its passengers. Subsequent events justified Kane’s alarm, for in April, secessionists in Mobtown burned bridges, rioted, and committed murder as they executed plans hatched in January by some of the men accused of conspiring against the president-elect.
Speeches in Pennsylvania
At sunrise on February 22, Lincoln stood before Independence Hall, where he was to hoist a new American flag containing thirty-four stars. (Kansas had been admitted to the Union a few weeks earlier.) Clearly, the warnings of Pinkerton and the others were on his mind, for in an impromptu address inside the historic building he alluded to assassination as well as to the Declaration of Independence: “all the political sentiments I entertain have been drawn, so far as I have been able to draw them, from the sentiments which originated, and were given to the world from this hall in which we stand. I have never had a feeling politically that did not spring from the sentiments embodied in the Declaration of Independence. (Great cheering.) I have often pondered over the dangers which were incurred by the men who assembled here and adopted that Declaration of Independence—I have pondered over the toils that were endured by the officers and soldiers of the army, who achieved that Independence. (Applause.) I have often inquired of myself, what great principle or idea it was that kept this Confederacy so long together. It was not the mere matter of the separation of the colonies from the mother land; but something in that Declaration giving liberty, not alone to the people of this country, but hope to the world for all future time. (Great applause.) It was that which gave promise that in due time the weights should be lifted from the shoulders of all men, and that all should have an equal chance. (Cheers.) This is the sentiment embodied in that Declaration of Independence. Now, my friends, can this country be saved upon that basis? If it can, I will consider myself one of the happiest men in the world if I can help to save it. If it can’t be saved upon that principle, it will be truly awful. But, if this country cannot be saved without giving up that principle—I was about to say I would rather be assassinated on this spot than to surrender it. (Applause.)”
Lincoln assured the crowd that he sought to avoid war, but insisted that if the South attacked federal facilities, his administration would retaliate: “Now, in my vie
w of the present aspect of affairs, there is no need of bloodshed and war. There is no necessity for it. I am not in favor of such a course, and I may say in advance, there will be no blood shed unless it be forced upon the Government. The Government will not use force unless force is used against it. (Prolonged applause and cries of ‘That’s the proper sentiment.’)” Lincoln closed his brief remarks with another allusion to his possible death: “I have said nothing but what I am willing to live by, and, in the pleasure of Almighty God, die by.”194
Outside, before a vast assemblage braving the winter chill, Lincoln removed his coat and firmly tugged the halyards, sending a large flag up the pole to unfurl and float majestically in the breeze as the newly risen sun illuminated it. Enhancing the patriotic tableau, a band played the national anthem and the militia fired a salute. The crowd of 30,000 cheered wildly, reminding one observer “of some of the storied shouts which rang among the Scottish hills, in the days of clans and clansmen.”195 A newspaperman who had been with the presidential party all along wrote that at “no time has so popular an incident occurred during the trip. All things combined to make it not only impressively grand, but emphatically popular.”196 A local Democratic paper scorned Lincoln’s talk of “an equal chance” as a disguised plea for the emancipation and enfranchisement of blacks, and called the president-elect “obscure, rude, ignorant, vulgar and boorish.”197 According to Samuel Francis Du Pont, commandant of the Philadelphia Navy Yard, Lincoln “made a very favorable impression” in the City of Brotherly Love. “Younger and much finer looking than his portraits,” the president-elect, according to Du Pont, was a “pleasurable surprise—tall and gaunt like Clay and without the latter’s grace, he is still very pleasing and evidently self-reliant and far above the crowd who composed his suite.”198
At 8:30 A.M., Lincoln departed for Harrisburg; en route, Judd spelled out the details of the altered itinerary: in the evening, Lincoln would return to Philadelphia on a special train, board the 10:50 P.M. regular train for Washington, accompanied only by Lamon, Pinkerton, and one of Pinkerton’s agents; they would arrive in the nation’s capital at 6 A.M.; telegraph wires from Harrisburg would be cut. In the Pennsylvania capital, Lincoln discussed the plan with a few members of the entourage, emphasizing the need for secrecy. Yet he insisted that his wife be informed, for, he said, “otherwise she would be very much excited at his absence.”199 He was right.
When told of the changed plans, Mrs. Lincoln “became very unmanageable,” according to Alexander K. McClure, who observed the scene. She demanded that she be allowed to accompany her husband on the new route and, McClure recalled, “spoke publicly about it in disregard of the earnest appeals to her for silence. Prompt action was required in such an emergency, and several of us simply hustled her into her room with Col. Sumner and Norman Judd … and locked the door on the outside. The men with her explained what was to be done and forced her to silence as she could not get out of the door.” McClure “thought Mrs. Lincoln was simply a hopeless fool and was so disgusted with her conduct that evening” that he never spoke to her again.200 The trip to Harrisburg that morning was ominous. “All along the route from Philadelphia,” John Hay reported, “receptions seemed more the result of curiosity than enthusiasm. Even at Harrisburg, not one man in a hundred cheered. The crowds everywhere were uniformly rough, unruly, and ill bred.” Lincoln “was so unwell he could hardly be persuaded to show himself.” At the state capital, the “arrangements were unprecedentedly bad; some of the suite and party were unaccommodated with rooms; several in one bed, and others had no rooms at all. The crowd, and the fatiguing ceremonies of the day, and the annoyances and vexation at the badly conducted hotel, proved too much for the patience of the party, who vented their disgust loudly. The committee-men did nothing, and were in every one’s way.”201
Also ominous were Lincoln’s remarks in response to a welcoming speech by Governor Andrew G. Curtin. Alluding to a review he had witnessed earlier in the day, the president-elect declared: “While I have been proud to see to-day the finest military array, I think, that I have ever seen, allow me to say in regard to those men that they give hope of what may be done when war is inevitable.” He did not say if war was inevitable, but when it was inevitable. To offset the apparent belligerence of this remark, he expressed the hope that no blood would be shed. He took pains in his later address to the state legislature to underscore his peaceable intentions.202 Even more ominously, a man on the street asked Lincoln: “How soon are you going to send us down South?” He replied “that there would be no occasion for such a course, but that he was glad to see that there was one ready to act, if the cause of his country should demand him. At this a number cried out, ‘we will all go, if you want us.’ ”203
Entering Washington
At the hotel that afternoon, Lincoln had Judd summon Curtin and the most prominent members of the entourage, saying: “I reckon they will laugh at us, Judd, but you had better get them together.” When they were assembled, the president-elect told them: “I have thought over this matter considerably since I went over the ground with Pinkerton last night. The appearance of Mr. Frederick Seward, with warning from another source, confirms my belief in Mr. Pinkerton’s statement. Unless there are some other reasons, besides fear of ridicule, I am disposed to carry out Judd’s plan.”204 Colonel Sumner, who “almost wept with anger,” exclaimed: “That proceeding will be a d–d piece of cowardice.” Indignantly, he added, “I’ll get a Squad of cavalry Sir, cut our way to Washington Sir.” Judd replied, “Probably before that day comes, the inauguration day will have passed.” The president-elect named the flamboyant Lamon to be his sole bodyguard on the trip, for in the East, Lamon—unlike Hunter and Sumner—was little known; as a native Virginian, he had a Southern accent; he was 6 feet 2 inches tall, muscular, courageous, devoted to Lincoln, and armed with a pair of revolvers, two derringers, brass knuckles, and a huge bowie knife. Sumner protested that he had undertaken to escort Lincoln all the way to Washington, but Judd managed to distract the colonel long enough so that Lamon and Lincoln could depart by themselves, much to Sumner’s displeasure. They boarded the special train around 7 P.M., at which time all telegraph lines from Harrisburg were severed.
At 10 o’clock, Lamon and Lincoln, accompanied by two railroad officials, reached West Philadelphia, where they were met by Pinkerton and another railroad executive. The men rode about in a carriage to kill time before the 10:50 departure of the regularly scheduled train to Washington. When it pulled into the station, Lincoln, stooping over to disguise his great height, climbed aboard through the sleeping car’s rear door, accompanied by Lamon and Pinkerton. The president-elect, who was described to the conductor as an invalid, promptly entered his berth and drew the curtains. During the ride to Baltimore, Lincoln told a joke sotto voce, but otherwise the three men remained silent. At 3:30 A.M., they reached Baltimore, where horses dragged the car one mile to the Washington Branch depot.
After a long layover, they departed for Washington, arriving at 6 A.M. As Lincoln and his two companions strode through the depot, E. B. Washburne, who had been alerted by Frederick Seward, emerged from behind a huge pillar, saying: “Abe you can’t play that on me.” With an elbow, Pinkerton jabbed the congressman and, as the detective raised his fist, Lincoln exclaimed: “Don’t strike him Allan, don’t strike him—that is my friend Washburne.—don’t you recognize him?” (Washburne reported to his wife that Lincoln “is very well considering how much he has been jaded and worn down.” Years later he recalled that the president-elect resembled “a well-to-do farmer from one of the back towns of Jo Daviess County coming to Washington to see the city, take out his land warrant and get the patent for his farm.”)205
All four men took a hack to Willard’s Hotel. Two minutes after their arrival they were met by Seward, who had overslept and was thus unable to greet the party at the station. (He had been slated to meet and accompany Lincoln to his hotel; Washburne was originally assigned to perform the same office for
Mrs. Lincoln in a separate carriage.) The senator, out of breath, said he “had in his possession conclusive evidence showing that there was a large organization in Baltimore to prevent the passage of Mr. Lincoln through that City and he felt confident that Mr. Lincoln could not have come through in any other manner without blood-shed: that this knowledge was what induced him after consultation with General Scott to send his son to Philadelphia to meet Mr. Lincoln with these letters and to urge a change of route; that this change would doubtless create quite a ‘Furore’, but that he (Seward) would defend it, and endorse it, and that had Mr. Lincoln not taken this step—Genl. Scott was so plainly convinced of the danger to Mr. Lincoln that in all probability he would have sent United States Troops to Baltimore to-day to receive and escort the President Elect.” Pinkerton protested that his sources reported no such grandiose threat. Explaining that he was tired, Lincoln repaired to his room.206
Shortly after notifying Judd and others that Lincoln had arrived safely, Pinkerton encountered the excited Lamon, who wanted to telegraph the Chicago Journal an account of the trip and his role in it. Pinkerton urged him to do nothing without Lincoln’s approval and stressed the importance of shaping the story favorably. Later, Pinkerton wrote that Lamon “was determined to make a ‘Splurge’ and have his name figure largely in it” and that he “talked so foolishly that I lost patience with him and set him down in my own mind as a brainless egotistical fool.”207
Seward’s prediction about a “furore” was accurate. Newspaper descriptions of the “undignified and ridiculous flight by night” proved most embarrassing.208 Joseph Howard, Jr., of the New York Times wrote a highly colored account, describing Lincoln’s garb as a cowardly disguise: “He wore a Scotch plaid cap and a very long military cloak, so that he was entirely unrecognizable.”209 In fact, the president-elect had on an old overcoat and a new soft wool hat that he had been given in New York. (Three years later, Howard was jailed for forging a presidential proclamation that appeared in two New York papers.) The “fact that the President elect has sneaked & skulked into the Federal Capitol as if he were an absconding felon, has occasioned the most profound mortification among the Republicans here,” New Hampshire Senator John P. Hale reported from Washington.210 Iowa Congressman Samuel R. Curtis found it “humiliating to have a President smuggled into the capital by night.”211
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