_We have abducted your President and his wife, and hold them
for ransom. They will not be delivered up until their fine be
paid publicly, under full sanction of Congress. Moreover,
Congress and the people must guarantee, in addition to the full
payment, C. O. D., entire liberty to the abductors permanently
to withdraw from this country and live in future peace. Unless
Congress and the nation give their honor for the payment of the
ransom and our personal and impregnable liberty, we will not
deliver our prisoners. We impose a ransom of a million dollars
apiece for each week, for such time as this offer may remain
unaccepted. The time begins from date of capture. These
conditions are final. When the country, through its
representatives, accedes to this demand, the time and place of
delivery will be published in these columns. The loyalty and
honor of the nation are now on exhibition before the world._
This communication burst like dynamite upon the people. Did it not bear
an undeniable stamp of genuineness upon its face, not only through the
firmness of its tone, but by the audacity of the demand? Yet there was
an equal division of opinion. Some thought it was the raving of a crank
in search of notoriety, but others looked upon it as a veritable
communication from those who held the President and his wife in their
possession.
Two millions of dollars a week! A princely ransom worthy of a royal
couple and of the United States.
It was natural that the handwriting of this letter should be scrutinized
severely. Every ingenuity that detective art could devise for finding
the sender was employed. During the next few days New York underwent an
espionage worthy of the court of St Petersburg. But, to the utter
mortification of Inspector Byrnes and his myriads, of Pinkerton and his
myrmidons, they were bound to confess their utter failure. The
perpetrators of the incredible deed, like
"An arm
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,"
brandished the sword in the air and disappeared.
In the meantime the political nation was aroused. It experienced some
measure of relief to know, if it were true, that its chief was held for
paltry gold. In that case, he and his would be safe from the assassin's
sword or the vengeance of an alien party whose hatred he had incurred by
patriotic scorn in his inaugural address. An yet, the question was
raised whether some treasonable secret society had not secluded him,
hoping to increase its revenue at the expense of the United States
treasury. Many went so far as to pronounce it a Fenian plot to raise
money for Parnell in his final overthrow of English rule in Ireland.
Constituents wrote to their representatives in Washington, instructing
them to vote the ransom, without delay, from the surplus fund, which was
now one hundred and seventy-eight million dollars. Others instructed
them not to waste the public money, as the President and his spouse must
soon be found by competent detectives, and thus a "creditable saving to
the treasury" would be made. The Vice-President, who had succeeded to
full powers, sent a special message to Congress, requesting it to vote
the ransom, no matter how enormous. The strain on him was not worth the
people's money. So Congress met in secret session, and spent the balance
of the week fighting, temporizing, and receiving telegrams to the effect
that new clews were found.
On the twenty-second of June, exactly two weeks from the time of the
distinguished capture, the following epigrammatic communication was
printed by the New York _Herald_, in the same handwriting as the
previous one. The envelope bore a Chicago postmark:
"_Congress has disregarded our generous offer: The ransom for
the President of the United States and for his wife is
therefore raised two million dollars._"
This was all; cold and ominous. Like the first message it was unsigned.
The style was unrelenting and imperious. Citizens awoke to the sensation
that they who were now the nation's martyrs were in the hands of men who
would not shrink from enforcing their demand. It was now universally
believed that these were _bona fide_ bulletins sent by the unscrupulous
abductors themselves. This became the detectives' final theory, and they
massed their skill towards it.
The unsolved mystery brooded like dog-days over man, woman, and child. A
nameless fear, that of an unknown and irresistible enemy in their midst,
paralyzed the citizens. Prayers were offered in every church,
school-house, and home. The hostilities that but lately threatened the
country ceased. Civilization breathed nothing but sympathy for the
bereaved republic. Sovereigns redoubled their private guards and quaked
upon their thrones. And yet, in the face of fears, petitions, and
threats, Congress, in a spirit of disastrous conservatism that has
marked so many of its deliberations, allowed itself to be ruled by a
dissenting minority. Detective Byrnes, hoping to gain imperishable
credit and also the reward of five hundred thousand dollars which
Congress had been liberal enough to offer, counselled delay in a private
letter to the Speaker of the House. So it happened that this august body
would not ratify the overwhelming vote for immediate payment of ransom
which had just been passed by the Senate.
This filibustering brought the country into the third week of the
calamity. The following communication to the New York _Herald_,
postmarked Boston, written in the same hand as before, brought matters
to a crisis:
"_The nation has evidently more love for their surplus than for
their President. The requisite ransom has reached six millions
of dollars in gold. The treasury is not yet exhausted, nor are
we. None can find us. Our defences are unapproachable. We laugh
at your attempts. The wife of your President, we are grieved to
say, is ill._"
This proclamation aroused a new element, which had been smouldering, to
white heat. The women of the country rose _en masse_. They fired old
societies and organized new to collect ransom. The W. C. T. U. and W. H.
M. A. and A. S. A. and A. B. C. and X. Q. B. Z. thrilled to the
occasion. Infant Bands of Hope and Daughters of Endeavor invaded private
families with demands for penny subscriptions. Weeping women persuaded
dollars by the tens, hundreds and thousands from responsive men. They
renounced their bon-bons and new dresses, parties and dowries in their
patriotic fervor. The presidents of all the women's societies in the
land trooped to Washington. They cried shame at those who trifled for
the sake of the fiftieth part of the gold in the vaults with the noblest
life in the Union. These unselfish women stormed the capital, and
literally poured two millions of dollars, which they had collected in
less than three days, upon the floor of the House to rescue the first
lady of the land from who knew what? They forced their husbands, their
representatives, to do their bidding, and the final vote was passed amid
indescribable scenes.
The ransom was now ready for the President and their lady. It had to be
accompanied by the national promise to secure freedom to those who
delivered up the suffering couple. That was the third of July. Still the
impotence of the nation in this new crisis filled thoughtful men with
apprehension. Was it moral that cash instead of justice should be given
to these stupendous criminals? What a precedent for infamous success! Of
what avail courts of law and prisons if such consummate daring goes
unpunished? Is there a portion of our national machinery out of gear? If
so, which? Nevertheless the excitement was now beyond fever heat. It is
safe to say that the temperature of the people had risen ten degrees
when the news was flashed abroad that the "President's money," as it was
called, had been unanimously voted by Congress. Tears streamed as
patriots met each other. Many developed a new species of insanity in
their suspense.
The country had now done its part toward the rescue of its chief
magistrate and of his perishing consort. Would the abductors be true to
their portion of the contract? Party strife had been forgotten in this
new anguish. All Fourth of July demonstrations had been postponed until
a loving people's thanksgiving for their President's safety could blend
with the time honored celebration of a nation's birth.
But suspense was not long delayed. Promptly the New York _Herald_
received a manifesto, this time the last, sent by the arch-conspirators
to Congress and the people. This envelope was boldly postmarked
Washington. This fact made those in the capital city almost afraid to
stir from their homes lest unawares they might meet the demon in their
midst who had dwarfed all principals in the records of crime up to the
present date. But this final proclamation read as follows: