The colonel of the famous Massachusetts Sixth, which fought its way
through Baltimore, risen in riot, B. F. Watson, led fifty men to cleave
their way through "the Plug-uglies," vile toughs. On reporting at the
capital he found Commanding General Scott receiving the mayor of
Baltimore, hastening to sue for the sacred soil not being again trodden
on by the ruthless foot of the Yankees. President Lincoln happened in
and, recognizing Colonel Watson, who was only second in command then,
complimented him on his "saving the capital," and introduced him to the
company. Presuming that his quality would awe a young and amateur
soldier, the unlucky mayor had the audacity to require his confirmation
of his story. He said that he had dared the mob, and, to shield the
soldiers, marched at their head, etc. But the officer, still warm from
his baptism of fire, truly replied that he could not give a certificate
of character. He related how the riff-raff had assailed the volunteers,
wonderfully forbearing about not using their guns, and that the police
and other officials had sworn that they should not pass alive, while
the head and front, as he called himself, marched only a few
yards--quitting on the pretext that it was too hot for him!
"Many times," said Colonel Watson, "have I recalled the mayor's look of
intense disgust, the astonishing dignity of the commanding general, and
the expression, half-sad, half-quizzical, on the face of the President
at the evident infelicity of his introduction. If I did not leave that
distinguished presence with my reputation for integrity unimpaired, the
pressure of Abraham Lincoln's honest hand, as we parted, deceived me."
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