A Night of Horrors: A Historical Thriller about the 24 Hours of Lincoln's Assassination (5 page)

“Well it holds beautiful gardens. Madam, I most regret that Mrs. Lincoln and I cannot accept your husband’s kind offer to enjoy the show at the National Theatre tonight.”

“Yes, the message from Mrs. Lincoln arrived just as I was leaving. But we are pleased that your son Tad will be enjoying the show,” Mrs. Hess replied.

“I understand it is quite a crowd pleaser,” Lincoln smiled down on the ladies. “Shall I show you the way to the Conservatory?” He began to walk down the corridor and towards the west part of the mansion.

“Well, Mr. President, you must be very happy over the glorious news about the war?”

“Yes, madam, for the first time since this cruel war began, I can see my way clearly. By the way, have you seen my favorite lemon tree?” he asked as they walked into the conservatory. The bright sun showed through the glass panes of the building and created a wonderful warmth in the cool spring morning. Lincoln walked them over to his tree and picked a lemon for each of them and handed it to them with a mock formal bow. As he turned to leave, he asked the gardener to gather some flowers for them.

Since the conservatory was on the west lawn, Lincoln exited on the far side of the glass building and continued across the west lawn to the War Department. From the first days of the war, Lincoln had made two daily visits to the War Department, primarily the Telegraph Office, so he could gather the latest news on the war. During major campaigns and battles, he would often spend long hours hovering over the shoulders of the telegraphers awaiting news from his generals. He often paced the wooden floors with his hands behind his back, worrying and waiting. But on this Friday morning the birds were singing and the sun warmed the chill breeze. Lincoln made quite an impression as he walked across the west lawn with his long strides, wearing his stovepipe hat and formal suit, and covering it all with the gray shawl. Lincoln didn’t need the shawl as he was always a fast walker and the exercise tended to warm his body. But he found it much easier to toss the shawl over his shoulders and be done with it than to argue with his wife.

Lincoln quickly mounted the steps to the second floor of the War Department building and entered the Telegraph Office, hanging the shawl on a hook on the back of the door, placed there for this explicit purpose.

“Good mornin’, gentlemen,” he called as he walked over to the desk that held the latest telegraphs. He picked up a small stack of telegrams and scanned them quickly, hoping that Sherman had sent some news on Johnston and his army.

“Nothing from General Sherman, sir,” David Bates said, as he watched the President read the papers. Lincoln nodded and finished his reading.

“Well, gentlemen, I am down to raisins mighty quick today.” It was a phrase that Lincoln invariably used when he had read through the stack of telegraphs until he came to the last telegraph in the stack he had read at his last visit.

“Mr. President,” said Bates, standing as he addressed Lincoln, “I have noticed that when you come and read through the telegraphs and finish, you use that saying to say you are done. I have often wondered what it means, ‘I am down to raisins?’”

“Well, Bates, it reminds me of a story,” Lincoln addressed him by name, because he had come to be on familiar terms with these men over the course of the past four years of the war. His face crinkled up as he smiled at the opportunity to share another yarn. “I know the story of a young lady who tended to eat her supper in reverse. She often began with her dessert and was a lover of raisins. Then she’d move on to her meat and vegetables and end with the bread. One night, when she was violently sick, her mother sent for the doctor. Upon arriving, he stood over her as she threw up repeatedly, working her way from bread to vegetables to meat. When he saw the raisins coming back up, he said happily ‘Well, we’re down to raisins’ and knew the worst was over.” Lincoln broke into a hearty belly laugh and bent over slapping his knee. The telegraphers joined in laughing and they continued on so that suddenly Edwin Stanton, Lincoln’s Secretary of War, bustled into the room.

“What’s all the fuss about?” He asked and then looked over and saw the President laughing with his men. “Oh, it’s you, is it?”

“Yes, it’s me,” Lincoln replied and then burst out laughing again at the look on Stanton’s face. They all laughed harder with Stanton joining in, to the surprise of his telegraphers. Stanton was legendary for ruling the War Department with an iron fist of discipline, not allowing even the President to disrupt his routines and often haggling with him about decisions.

“Come, Stanton, let’s go talk business,” Lincoln said and ushered the Secretary back to his office across the hall from the Telegraph Office. “Stanton, do you know that Eckert can break a poker over his arm?” The President asked as Edwin Stanton walked to sit down in his desk. It was an odd question and Stanton knew that the President was leading up to something. Thomas Eckert was the head of the Telegraph Office and a strong burly man. Several months before, he had been demonstrating the poor quality of pokers that had been sold to the Union army by breaking them over his forearm, when Lincoln walked in and stood and watched the demonstration in amusement.

“No I did not. Why would you ask such a question?” Stanton sputtered out.

“Stanton, I have seen Eckert break fiver pokers, one after the other, over his forearm. I think he is just the man to go with me this evening when I go to the theatre. May I take him?”

Edwin Stanton had been a nationally renowned attorney prior to the outbreak of the war. His work ethic was legendary and on several occasions during the war, he had been forced to bed by his doctors in an effort to save him from literally dying of pure exhaustion. Stanton was a short man already, but when he stood next to the towering Lincoln, he appeared as a man-child, except for the great flowing salt and pepper beard that adorned his chin. Stanton’s beard grew out from his chin and reached half way down his chest. He wore round steel rimmed glasses that often heightened the ferocity of his blue-gray eyes. Stanton had taken over a faltering War Department and quickly whipped it into an efficient machine that slowly ground the Rebellion into surrender. His self-righteous temperament combined with his keen intelligence so that he rarely lost an argument. He often brought both friend and foe to tears through his stern lectures and curt mannerisms. He was famous for being indignant and haughty with all who came into contact with him, not sparing even the President.

Early after becoming the Secretary of War, Stanton had centralized the national telegraph lines through his office in an effort to ensure he had the latest news from the front, so that he was the first to hear any other news of import, and to provide a level of censorship so that military setbacks were communicated “appropriately” to the nation. As a result, Stanton was the first to hear of potential conspiracies and threats form the Confederate Secret Service. Ever since Richmond had fallen, news had floated over the wires of potential threats to President Lincoln’s life. Stanton had never liked Lincoln’s habit of going to the theater, but he was particularly upset of the plans to go with Grant this night. Though Lincoln had invited Stanton and his wife to come along, the War Secretary had refused on grounds that he did not want to appear to encourage a habit of which he did not approve. So when he heard Lincoln’s request, Stanton immediately declined.

“Mr. President, I cannot spare Eckert tonight. I have too much important work for him to do this evening.”

“Well, Mr. Secretary, I reckon I’ll ask the man himself, and he can do your work tomorrow.” Lincoln turned and walked back into the Telegraph Office. “Eckert, General Grant and his wife are joining me and Mrs. Lincoln at the Ford’s Theatre tonight. I would like you and your poker-breaking prowess to be part of the party. You can do Stanton’s work tomorrow, and Mrs. Lincoln would like you to go with us.”

Eckert had stood up when the President first addressed him. He was in a bit of a quandary, because Stanton had shared with him, in blistering terms, his frustration with Lincoln’s refusal to heed his advice and avoid public outings, particularly the theater. “Mr. President, I am sure that Mr. Stanton shared with you the important work that he has asked me to finish tonight. I am afraid that I cannot join you and Mrs. Lincoln, as much as I would enjoy the outing.”

“Well, Stanton insists that I have someone with me, and here you are a man capable of breaking pokers over your arm. I thought you would be just the man, Eckert, for such an assignment. I guess that I will have to ask someone else. Come on Mr. Stanton, it’s time for the Cabinet Meeting. Bring all those things I asked you to carry to the meetin’,” he called through the open doorway. Lincoln grabbed the shawl and tossed it over his shoulders as he walked back out of the War Department and across the lawn to the Executive Mansion. Stanton remained behind in his office, preparing his material for the Cabinet meeting.

It was just past 11:00 when Lincoln arrived back in his office in the Executive Mansion. Gideon Welles, his Navy Secretary was sitting in his usual place in the middle of the long side of the table that faced the window. From here he could see all the expressions of his fellow Cabinet members, as well as the Potomac off in the distance when discussions droned on. Lincoln often referred to Welles as Father Neptune because the man sported a large, bushy beard of perfectly white hair coupled with curly gray hair that piled atop his head and hung down the back in ringlets that reached below his coat collar. Welles never heard Lincoln say the nickname himself, because the President was careful not to offend his Navy Secretary’s gentle sensibilities. Along with Welles sat Hugh McCulloch, his new Secretary of the Treasury, and Frederick Seward, acting Secretary of State. The latter was sitting in for his father William Seward who had suffered a broken jaw from that carriage accident in early April when Lincoln was in Richmond, Virginia. Down the table was James Speed, a man with a strong nose, greatly receding hair, and a beard that grew beyond the collar of his shirt. Speed was the Attorney General of the United States and the brother of Joshua Speed, who was one of the President’s closest friends. As these three men exchanged pleasantries with Lincoln, William Dennison arrived. Dennison walked in with his typical firm gait, head held high, and his face clean-shaven except for his side burns. He had replaced Montgomery Blair as the Postmaster General back in September, but the President and Cabinet members still referred to him as Governor because he had served Ohio in that capacity in the early years of the war. John Usher was the next to arrive, close on Dennison’s heels. Usher was the sole member of Lincoln’s cabinet to be free of facial hair of any kind.

“Usher, where is that boy of yours?” Lincoln asked his Secretary of the Interior as he sat at the table.

“Why I left him to play in the carriage outside, sir.”

“Well, I hope that he is still there when you return,” Lincoln said with a mischievous grin.

“Why what ever do you mean?” Usher asked and began to stand up from the table in alarm and worry for his son. Just then, all of the men around the table broke out in laughter, and Usher sat down red-faced.

“The boy is fine, John, it is just the President making fun with you,” Father Neptune observed. “I see that we are awaiting the arrival of Stanton, as usual,” he commented. There had been an ongoing battle of wills and egos between Stanton and Welles since the beginning of the war. Welles was not only jealous of the ascendancy of the War Department over the Navy Department during the war, but also of the closer working relationship that Lincoln had with Stanton than with him.

“Now, do you realize that at this very hour, there is a great prayer of thanksgiving being spoken in Fort Sumter?” Lincoln asked his Cabinet, ignoring Welles’ remark. “The news continues to be good from all parts of the states lately in rebellion. It is my fondest hope that the bloody work is done with and we must now set ourselves about getting the rebel states back into the Union as quickly and as efficiently as possible.”

“It is remarkable,” Welles interjected, “to think that General Anderson will raise the flag of the Union above Fort Sumter at noon today.” The men sitting around the table murmured their agreement with Father Neptune. “Can it really have been fours year ago today that Fort Sumter surrendered?” They all paused in silent acknowledgement of the duration and bloodiness of the war.

“Do you suppose that the various leaders of the Confederacy will try to escape the country?” Frederick Seward asked to no one in particular.

“Well, it would certainly be better than the alternative of a series of hearings, eh, Speed?” asked Governor Dennison of the Attorney General.

“It will be a difficult problem to resolve should a series of hearings of these leaders occur,” Speed responded.

“I suppose, Mr. President,” Dennison asked, “you wouldn’t object to these men escaping from the country unmolested?”

“Well, I shouldn’t be sorry to have them out of the country, but I should be for followin’ them up pretty close to make sure of their goin’!” He smiled.

At this point, General Grant arrived in accordance with the note Lincoln sent earlier that morning.

“Well, General Grant, it is a pleasure to see you again so soon,” Lincoln beamed. The two men had talked over a dinner hosted by the Stantons the night before. The Cabinet arose from their seats and each stepped up to the General and congratulated him on his recent victories in turn and asked him about Appomattox. Grant described the surrender of Robert E. Lee as the men sat back down at the table.

“What terms did you make for the common soldiers?” The President asked his General.

“I told them to go back to their homes and families and they would not be molested if they did nothing more,” he answered. Lincoln nodded his head in silent approval.

“Any news from the Army?” McCulloch asked.

“Particularly of Sherman?” Speed asked.

“I have not heard from Sherman this morning, but I do expect it to be good news when I do. I am inquiring at the Telegraph Office each hour,” Grant replied.