Lincoln and the Baltimore Plot, 1861 W HUNTINGTON LIBRARY PUBLICATIONS Cartoon by A
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M MDG E 457.4 .C88 1949 Md. 923.173 L73 Cuthbert, Norma Barrett, 1892- Lincoln and the Baltimore plot, 1861 w HUNTINGTON LIBRARY PUBLICATIONS Cartoon by A. VOLCK, from the Huntington Library LINCOLN AND THE BALTIMORE PLOT a I 8 6 i; From Pinkerton Records and Related Papers Edited by NORMA B. CUTHBERT THE HUNTINGTON LIBRARY SAN MARINO • CALIFORNIA 1949 Copyright 1949 by the HENRY E. HUNTINGTON LIBRARY & ART GALLERY PRINTED BY PACIFIC PRESS INC. LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This book has been in preparation for a long time, during odd moments snatched from routine duties in the Depart- ment of Manuscripts in the Huntdngton Library. A definitive investigation of the Baltimore plot has not been possible, and in only two libraries, other than our own, has research been done: the New York Public Library and the Library of Congress. Nonetheless much help has been given and received. To my friends in San Marino, Messrs. Herbert C. Schulz, Robert G. Cleland, Godfrey Davies, Dixon Wecter, and Mrs. Marion Tinling; to the staff of the Library of Congress, particularly Dr. C. P. Powell; to Messrs. Robert A. Pinkerton and Ralph Dudley who have been so very generous in making available every resource of Pinkerton's National Detective Agency, even to the extent of shipping to California valuable archives of the firm; to Dr. Louis B. Wright, Director of the Folger Library; and finally to Mr. Lavern M. Hamand and Pro- fessor James G. Randall of the University of Illinois, I am deeply indebted, and offer my sincere and grateful thanks. N.B.C. Vll CONTENTS Introduction xi I. Pinkerton's Account of the Plot, 1866 .... 1 II. Allan Pinkerton's Record Book, 1861 .... 19 III. Judd's Account of the Plot, 1866 107 IV. Ward H. Lamon and the Baltimore Plot ... 114 Notes . 124 Bibliography 153 Index 155 IX INTRODUCTION On February nth, 1861, Abraham Lincoln started on his journey from Springfield to Washington to be inaugu- rated President of the United States. The train was to leave at eight o'clock in the morning, and Lincoln allowed himself five minutes to say good-by to the friends and neighbors who had gathered at the Great Western Railway station to see him off. It was a sorrowful leavetaking. His words are well remembered: "No one, not in my position can appreciate my feeling of sadness at this parting . Here I have lived a quarter of a century . Here my children have been born, and one is buried. I now leave, not knowing when or whether ever I may return . ." J. G. Nicolay and young John Hay, who were present, said the morning was stormy, with snow settling on the bared heads of the townsfolk. Henry Villard, reporter for the New York Associated Press, remembered it as a clear, crisp day. And Ward H. Lamon, Lincoln's intimate friend and former law partner, described it as a gloomy day with heavy clouds overhead and a cold rain falling. But whatever the weather, it was a portentous day: not alone because it marked the end of an epoch in Lincoln's life, but because it also introduced one of the most tedious and difficult interludes he ever lived through. The tri- umphal progression from Springfield to Washington was a travesty—a fortnight of tense anxiety masked by levity and noisy ovations, by cautious commonplace speech- making, the so-popular routine of "measuring" contests, the ordeal of social amenities, the incessant handshaking, and finally, as a nightmarish climax, a sudden midnight trip xi Xll INTRODUCTION through Baltimore, which brought him into Washington secretly and ahead of schedule. While all this was going on, the people who were not shouting in the streets waited—watching and listening as the crack along the Mason-Dixon line grew steadily wider, and the accompanying rumblings became louder. These signs and portents were not a sudden development. For a long time a strong aggressive element in the South had openly threatened the dissolution of the Union. Now these threats were attended by rumors of an uglier, more sinister character. In Springfield as well as in Washington dark hints and prophecies passed from lip to lip. It was whispered that there was a plan to kill General Scott and kidnap President Buchanan, to blow up the Capitol and seize the arsenal and navy yard; that Washington soon would be isolated, with railroad tracks torn up, bridges burned, tele- graph wires destroyed; that armed secret societies were springing up throughout Virginia, Maryland, and the Dis- trict of Columbia, ready and geared for action; that black lists were being prepared in anticipation of a coup d'etat; that arms and ammunition, concealed in trunks and carpet- bags, were being quietly distributed to householders; that District militia and police were largely disaffected, as well as government officials from the Cabinet down—in short, that a reign of terror could, and probably would, break out at a moment's notice. By the close of i860, whispering had given way to open street-corner discussions, and all the foamy harroom rumors seemed to be boiling down to one vital objective: a well- implemented plot to prevent the inauguration. To this end every scheme focused on eliminating Abraham Lincoln, and Baltimore was generally conceded to be the logical INTRODUCTION XU1 site for the trap to be sprung. There were many versions as to how the deed would be done. One "reliable source" had it that the President-elect would be shot with an air gun while driving through the streets, another insisted that a revolver was to be used, less hardy souls recommended a train derailment, or abduction to a boat waiting in the harbor for a quick get-away to the South—but blood- thirsty Baltimorians demanded immediate dispatch with the bowie knife. Up to the time of his departure from Springfield, Lincoln had considered a possible failure of the official count of the electoral vote, or perhaps an unfriendly demonstration at the inauguration, to be his only serious hazards in taking office. He refused to be alarmed by anonymous threats of personal violence, knowing that General Scott had been making adequate preparations in Washington, and that two committees of Congress were holding investigations for the purpose of exploding rumors, publicizing facts, and quieting needless apprehension. But as his journey drew to a close, public feeling in Baltimore was reported as having become increasingly tense, the attitude of the press decidedly hostile, and the warnings more and more ominous. At length it became quite evident that the hospitality of the city was not to be extended to the presidential party. This omission of an official welcome, with the usual speeches, receptions, fanfare, and parade, was highly signifi- cant. It was a. discourtesy made all the more conspicuous by the fact that Mr. Lincoln was scheduled to arrive at mid- day and drive all the way across town from one railway terminal to another. But it appeared that the slight would have to be borne, since it was then too late to arrange a necessarily elaborate detour. In effect there appeared to be XIV INTRODUCTION no other way to get the President-elect to his seat of government. But there was an alternative—a simple alterna- tive—and when urgent last-minute warnings of imminent danger reached the party at Philadelphia, Lincoln was persuaded to adopt it. Abandoning his published itinerary, he decided to pass through Baltimore secretly in a sleeping car on the midnight train. This could be done easily and without causing atten- tion, as it was customary at that late hour to uncouple the cars and draw them slowly by horses through the quiet, deserted streets. The maneuver worked, but it caused a furor. Many wagers were lost and won; Wall Street rallied; commis- sioners of the Peace Conference, sitting in solemn conclave in Washington, were jolted when the news came through, and the Missouri member was so dumfounded that he blurted out, "How the devil did he get through Baltimore?"1 The cartoonists had a Roman holiday, and the comedy- relief provided by their response created a welcome diver- sion. Gentlemen of the press also made the most of the rare opportunity, and a bright reporter in Boston had an idea "that the ridiculous telegrams about assassination, etc., may not unreasonably be accounted for by supposing that some- thing startling was necessary in order to divert the public mind from Mr. Lincoln's crude speeches."2 As to Lincoln's own reaction, biographers differ. Some have claimed that he regretted the incident, and felt morti- fied and chagrined. Elihu B. Washbume, who met him at the depot, had this to say: "I was the first man to see him after his arrival in Washington . and I know he was neither 'mortified' nor 'chagrined'. He expressed to me in the warmest terms his satisfaction at the complete success INTRODUCTION XV of his journey . ."s Colonel Lamon, in another version, quoted Lincoln as having said: "You . know that the way we skulked into this city [Washington] . has been a source of shame and regret to me, for it did look so cowardly!"4 His longest statement on the subject was made to Benson J. Lossing in 1864, who gave it substantially in the President's own words, as follows: I arrived at Philadelphia on the 21st. I agreed to stop over night, and on the following morning hoist the flag5 over Independence Hall. In the evening there was a great crowd where I received my friends, at the Continental Hotel. Mr. Judd, a warm personal friend from Chicago, sent for me to come to his room.