_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]