The Spy of the Rebellion (Based on True Events). Allan Pinkerton
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