Lincoln's Midnight Journey
from Harrisburg to the National Capital.
I next met Abraham Lincoln at Harrisburg on the 22d of February, 1861, when he passed through the most trying ordeal of his life. He had been in Philadelphia the night before, where he was advised by letters from General Winfield Scott and his prospective Premier, Senator Seward, that he could not pass through Baltimore on the 23d without grave peril to his life. His route, as published to the world for some days, was from Philadelphia to Harrisburg on the morning of the 22d ; to remain in Harrisburg over night as the guest of Governor Curtin; and to leave for Washington the next morning by the Northern Central Railway, that would take him through Baltimore about midday. A number of detectives under the direction of President Felton of the Philadelphia, Wilmington, and Baltimore Railroad, and Allan Pinkerton, chief of the well-known detective agency, were convinced from the information they obtained that Lincoln would be assassinated if he attempted to pass through Baltimore according to the published programme. A conference at the Continental Hotel in Philadelphia on the night of the 21st, at which Lincoln was advised of the admonitions of Scott and Seward, had not resulted in any final determination as to his route to Washington. He was from the first extremely reluctant about any change, but it was finally decided that he should proceed to Harrisburg on the morning of the 22d and be guided by events.
The two speeches made by Lincoln on the 22d of February do not exhibit a single trace of mental disturbance from the appalling news he had received. He hoisted the stars and stripes to the pinnacle of Independence Hall early in the morning and delivered a brief address that was eminently characteristic of the man. He arrived at Harrisburg about noon, was received in the House of Representatives by the Governor and both branches of the Legislature, and there spoke with the same calm deliberation and incisiveness which marked all his speeches during the journey from Springfield to Washington.
After the reception at the House another conference was held on the subject of his route to Washington, and, while every person present, with the exception of Lincoln, was positive in the demand that the programme should be changed, he still obstinately hesitated. He did not believe that the danger of assassination was serious.
The afternoon conference practically decided nothing, but it was assumed by those active in directing Lincoln's journey that there must be a change. Lincoln dined at the Jones House about five o'clock with Governor Curtin as host of the occasion. I recall as guests the names of Colonel Thomas A. Scott, Colonel Sumner, Colonel Lamon, Dr. Wallace, David Davis, Secretary Slifer, Attorney-General Purviance, Adjutant-General Russell, and myself. There were others at the table, but I do not recall them with certainty. Of that dinner circle, as I remember them, only three are now living — Governor Curtin, Colonel Lamon, and the writer hereof. Mr. Judd was not a guest, as he was giving personal attention to Mrs. Lincoln, who was much disturbed by the suggestion to separate the President from her, and she narrowly escaped attracting attention to the movements which required the utmost secrecy.
It was while at dinner that it was finally determined that Lincoln should return to Philadelphia and go thence to Washington that night, as had been arranged in Philadelphia the night previous in the event of a decision to change the programme previously announced. No one who heard the discussion of the question could efface it from his memory. The admonitions received from General Scott and Senator Seward were made known to Governor Curtin at the table, and the question of a change of route was discussed for some time by every one with the single exception of Lincoln. He was the one silent man of the party, and when he was finally compelled to speak he unhesitatingly expressed his disapproval of the movement. With impressive earnestness he thus answered the appeal of his friends: “What would the nation think of its President stealing into the Capital like a thief in the night?” It was only when the other guests were unanimous in the expression that it was not a question for Lincoln to determine, but one for his friends to determine for him, that he finally agreed to submit to whatever was decided by those around him.
It was most fortunate that Colonel Scott was one of the guests at that dinner. He was wise and keen in perception and bold and swift in execution. The time was short, and if a change was to be made in Lincoln's route it was necessary for him to reach Philadelphia by eleven o'clock that night or very soon thereafter. Scott at once became master of ceremonies, and everything that was done was in obedience to his directions. There was a crowd of thousands around the hotel, anxious to see the new President and ready to cheer him to the uttermost.
It was believed to be best that only one man should accompany Lincoln in his journey to Philadelphia and Washington, and Lincoln decided that Lamon should be his companion. Colonel Sumner, who felt that he had been charged with the safety of the President-elect, and whose silvered crown seemed to entitle him to precedence, earnestly protested against Lincoln leaving his immediate care, but it was deemed unsafe to have more than one accompany him, and the veteran soldier was compelled to surrender his charge. That preliminary question settled, Scott directed that Curtin, Lincoln, and Lamon should at once proceed to the front steps of the hotel, where there was a vast throng waiting to receive them, and that Curtin should call distinctly, so that the crowd could hear, for a carriage, and direct the coachman to drive the party to the Executive Mansion. That was the natural thing for Curtin to do &mdash to take the President to the Governor's mansion as his guest, and it excited no suspicion whatever.
Before leaving the dining-room Governor Curtin halted Lincoln and Lamon at the door and inquired of Lamon whether he was well armed. Lamon had been chosen by Lincoln as his companion because of his exceptional physical power and prowess, but Curtin wanted assurance that he was properly equipped for defense. Lamon at once uncovered a small arsenal of deadly weapons, showing that he was literally armed to the teeth. In addition to a pair of heavy revolvers, he had a slung-shot and brass knuckles and a huge knife nestled under his vest.
The three entered the carriage, and, as instructed by Scott, drove toward the Executive Mansion, but when near there the driver was ordered to take a circuitous route and to reach the railroad depot within half an hour. When Curtin and his party had gotten fairly away from the hotel I accompanied Scott to the railway depot, where he at once cleared one of his lines from Harrisburg to Philadelphia, so that there could be no obstruction upon it, as had been agreed upon at Philadelphia the evening before in case the change should be made. In the mean time he had ordered a locomotive and a single car to be brought to the eastern entrance of the depot, and at the appointed time the carriage arrived. Lincoln and Lamon emerged from the carriage and entered the car unnoticed by any except those interested in the matter, and after a quiet but fervent “Good-bye and God protect you!” the engineer quietly moved his train away on its momentous mission.
As soon as the train left I accompanied Scott in the work of severing all the telegraph lines which entered Harrisburg. He was not content with directing that it should be done, but he personally saw that every wire was cut. This was about seven o'clock in the evening. It had been arranged that the eleven o'clock train from Philadelphia to Washington should be held until Lincoln arrived, on the pretext of delivering an important package to the conductor. The train on which he was to leave Philadelphia was due in Washington at six in the morning, and Scott kept faithful vigil during the entire night, not only to see that there should be no restoration of the wires, but waiting with anxious solicitude for the time when he might hope to hear the good news that Lincoln had arrived in safety. To guard against every possible chance of imposition a special cipher was agreed upon that could not possibly be understood by any but the parties to it. It was a long, weary night of fretful anxiety to the dozen or more in Harrisburg who had knowledge of the sudden departure of Lincoln. No one attempted to sleep. All felt that the fate of the nation hung on the safe progress of Lincoln to Washington without detection on his journey. Scott, who was of heroic mould, several times tried to temper the severe strain of his anxiety by looking up railway matters, but he would soon abandon the listless effort, and thrice we strolled from the depot to the Jones House and back again, in aimless struggle to hasten the slowly-passing hours, only to find equally anxious watchers there and a wife whose sobbing heart could not be consoled. At last the eastern horizon was purpled with the promise of day. Scott reunited the broken lines for the lightning messenger, and he was soon gladdened by an unsigned dispatch from Washington, saying, “ Plums delivered nuts safely.” He whirled his hat high in the little telegraph office as he shouted, “Lincoln's in Washington,” and we rushed to the Jones House and hurried a messenger to the Executive Mansion to spread the glad tidings that Lincoln had safely made his midnight journey to the Capital.
I have several times heard Lincoln refer to this journey, and always with regret. Indeed, he seemed to regard it as one of the grave mistakes in his public career. He was fully convinced, as Colonel Lamon has stated it, that “he had fled from a danger purely imaginary, and he felt the shame and mortification natural to a brave man under such circumstances.” Mrs. Lincoln and her suite passed through Baltimore on the 23d without any sign of turbulence. The fact that there was not even a curious crowd brought together when she passed through the city — which then required considerable time, as the cars were taken across Baltimore by horses — confirmed Lincoln in his belief. It is needless now to discuss the question of real or imaginary danger in Lincoln passing through Baltimore at noonday according to the original programme. It is enough to know that there were reasonable grounds for apprehension that an attempt might be made upon his life, even if there was not the organized band of assassins that the detectives believed to exist. His presence in the city would have called out an immense concourse of people, including thousands of thoroughly disloyal roughs, who could easily have been inspired to any measure of violence. He simply acted the part of a prudent man in his reluctant obedience to the unanimous decision of his friends in Harrisburg when he was suddenly sent back to Philadelphia to take the midnight train for Washington, and there was no good reason why he should have regretted it; but his naturally sensitive disposition made him always feel humiliated when it recurred to him.
The sensational stories published at the time of his disguise for the journey were wholly untrue. He was reported as having been dressed in a Scotch cap and cloak and as entering the car at the Broad and Prime station by some private alley-way, but there was no truth whatever in any of these statements. I saw him leave the dining-room at Harrisburg to enter the carriage with Curtin and Lamon. I saw him enter the car at the Harrisburg depot, and the only change in his dress was the substitution of a soft slouch hat for the high one he had worn during the day. He wore the same overcoat that he had worn when he arrived at Harrisburg, and the only extra apparel he had about him was the shawl that hung over his arm. When he reached West Philadelphia he was met by Superintendent Kenney, who had a carriage in waiting with a single detective in it. Lincoln and Lamon entered the carriage and Kenney mounted the box with the driver. They were in advance of the time for the starting of the Baltimore train, and they were driven around on Broad street, as the driver was informed, in search of some one wanted by Kenney and the detective, until it was time to reach the station.
When there they entered by the public doorway on Broad street, and passed directly along with other passengers to the car, where their berths had been engaged. The journey to Washington was entirely uneventful, and at six in the morning the train entered the Washington station on schedule time. Seward had been advised, by the return of his son from Philadelphia, of the probable execution of this programme, and he and Washburne were in the station and met the President and his party, and all drove together to Willard's Hotel. Thus ends the story of Lincoln's midnight journey from Harrisburg to the National Capital.
