A Night of Horrors: A Historical Thriller about the 24 Hours of Lincoln's Assassination

by Berry, John C.

  “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.

  “Well, I suppose that we can get all of that when Stanton decides to arrive,” Welles commented sourly.

  “It will, no doubt, come soon and will be favorable news,” Lincoln announced. “I had a dream last night and it is the usual dream that I have had preceding nearly every great and important event of the war. It is most remarkable. Generally, the news had been favorable which succeeded this dream, and the dream itself was always the same.”

  “What could this remarkable dream be, Mr. President?” Welles asked.

  “It relates to your element, Welles. I seem to be on some singular, indescribable vessel. It moves with great rapidity towards an indefinite shore.” Lincoln was looking out of the window in thought, conjuring the dream in his mind. His face almost glowed and seemed to have softened beneath the worry lines and creases that emanated from his eyes and crossed his forehead. “I had this dream preceding Sumter, Bull Run, Antietam, Gettysburg, Stone River, Vicksburg, and Wilmington, among others.”

  “Well, Stone River was no victory. A few such victories as that would have ruined the country. I know of no great results that followed from it,” Grant observed. The Cabinet members smiled and murmured their consent.

  “However that might be, General, the dream preceded that fight,” the President responded. “I had this strange dream again last night, and we shall, judging from the past, have great news very soon. I think it must be from Sherman. My thoughts are in that direction as are most of yours for I know of no other great event that is likely to occur.”

  “Certainly, it can’t presage a victory nor a defeat as the war is over,” Usher commented.

  “Perhaps,” Frederick Seward said aloud, “at each occurrence of the dream, there was a possibility of great change or disaster and this vague feeling of uncertainty led to this dim vision of yours in sleep.”

  “Perhaps that is the explanation,” the President responded.

  Stanton arrived, just then, carrying a case of papers and a rolled up map. He placed the papers on the floor behind an empty chair and took his place at the table. All eyes were on him as he took his seat. He adjusted himself and turned his intense gaze on the President. All the eyes of the Cabinet members followed Stanton’s lead and they awaited the President’s direction for the Cabinet meeting.

  “Gentlemen, we must turn all of our energies and our strength to reconstructing the Union. How do we readmit the rebellious states back into the Union? This is the great question before us and we must soon begin to act. My desire is to establish normal commercial relations with the former Confederate states as soon as possible. This will create mutual dependence between north and south. The executive agencies should resume their traditional functions in the South. McCulloch, you must proceed to take possession of the customhouses that collect revenues from the Southern states. Usher, we need to set surveyors and land and pension agents to work. Dennison, we must reestablish the mail routes so the north and south can communicate with each other freely.”

  The Cabinet members voiced their assent and nodded their heads in agreement. With each comment that Lincoln made, each member felt their stomachs tighten and the acid begin to churn. Whereas this was the time for which they each had hoped and dreamed—the reconstruction of the north and south into the United States of America—they knew that the road ahead was fraught with danger and political upheaval. The late outpouring of support and adulation for the President and his administration would be short-lived, they knew. The war had been prosecuted in the midst of political backbiting and the long knives of Congressional leaders attempting to remove one Cabinet member or another, if not the President himself. So they were all in agreement with the broad-brush strokes of Lincoln’s policies and plan, but they privately worried about the difficult work ahead of them and the political road down which they would have to travel.

  “I now realize that I had been too quick to work with some of the rebel legislatures. Though I never formally recognized the Virginia legislature, their reaction and the course they took affirm to me that I had been too fast in my desire for early reconstruction. We can’t undertake to run State governments in all these Southern States. Their people must do that, even if at first some of them do it badly.”

  “I have a proposal that I wish to submit for the Cabinet’s consideration,” Stanton announced. He stood up from his chair and took the great rolls of paper and spread them on the table before the President and his Cabinet. Stanton proceeded to outline a proposal of establishing military governors in the southern states who would rule under martial law until c
ivil rule is reestablished. “We must,” Stanton interjected, “combine Virginia and North Carolina into a single military department. The War Department shall garrison or destroy existing forts in the rebellious states. The Navy Department shall occupy harbors and take possession of Navy yards, ships, and ordnance held by formerly rebellious states. In short, gentlemen, my plan will set in motion the machinery of the United States Government. Its laws should be faithfully observed and enforced by the Army occupying the states. Anything like domestic violence or insurrection should be immediately repressed. But all public authorities and private citizens, if not found in actual hostility to the Government of the Union, shall not be molested.” Stanton stood over his large rolls of paper pointing out key forts, harbors, and other points of interest as he laid out his proposal.

  “If we combine Virginia and North Carolina into a single military district, then we are obliterating state lines. We must not alter the boundaries of states if we are to bring them into the Union with as much harmony as possible.” Gideon Welles was the first to speak up as Stanton took his seat. Others around the table commented that his point was well made. “Virginia, I believe, Mr. President, is central to your vision of reconstruction. We must not stultify ourselves as regards Virginia by blurring her boundaries with those of another state.” The discussion went on for more than two hours with each Cabinet member earnestly driving his points home.

  “Stanton, I believe there are merits to your proposal. They fall in line with the major points that this Cabinet has discussed and that I have laid out for us these past few weeks. I also believe that Welles, here, has made a good point about state boundaries. I have not had the time to consider these matters as thoroughly as each of you. I’d like for you, Stanton, to bring to the next meeting a written proposal, incorporating the points of discussion made here today, particularly those of Mr. Welles. And we will table the discussion of Negro suffrage and focus on policies to reconstruct the government.