"The reports are all in the form of personal narratives, and for the most relate when the spies went to bed, when they rose, where they ate, what saloons and brothels they visited, and what blackguards they met and 'drinked' with. One of them shadowed a loud-mouthed drinking fellow named Luckett, and another, a poor scapegrace and braggart named Hilliard. These wretches 'drinked' and talked a great deal, hung about bars, haunted disreputable houses, were constantly half drunk, and easily excited to use big and threatening words by the faithless protestations and cunning management of the spies. Thus Hilliard was made to say that he thought a man who should act the part of Brutus in these times would deserve well of his country; and Luckett was induced to declare that he knew a man who would kill Lincoln. At length the great arch-conspirator—the Brutus, the Orsini of the New World, to whom Luckett and Hilliard, the 'national volunteers,' and all such, were as mere puppets—condescended to reveal himself in the most obliging and confiding manner. He made no mystery of his cruel and desperate scheme. He did not guard it as a dangerous secret, or choose his confidants with the circumspection which political criminals, and especially assassins, have generally thought proper to observe. Very many persons knew what he was about, and levied on their friends for small sums—five, ten and twenty dollars—to further the Captain's plan. Even Luckett was deep enough in the awful plot to raise money for it; and when he took one of the spies to a public bar-room and introduced him to the 'Captain,' the latter sat down and talked it all over without the slightest reserve. When was there ever before such a loud-mouthed conspirator, such a trustful and innocent assassin! His name was Ferrandini, his occupation that of a barber, his place of business beneath Barnum's Hotel, where the sign of the bloodthirsty villain still invites the unsuspecting public to come in for a shave.
"'Mr. Luckett,' so the spy relates, 'said that he was not going home this evening; and if I would meet him at Barr's saloon, on South street, he would introduce me to Ferrandini. This was unexpected to me; but I determined to take the chances, and agreed to meet Mr. Luckett at the place named at 7 P. M. Mr. Luckett left about 2.30 P. M., and I went to dinner.
"'I was at the office in the afternoon in hopes that Mr. Felton might call, but he did not; and at 6.15 P. M. I went to supper. After supper I went to Barr's saloon, and found Mr. Luckett and several other gentlemen there. He asked me to drink, and introduced me to Captain Ferrandini and Captain Turner. He eulogized me very highly as a neighbor of his, and told Ferrandini that I was the gentleman who had given the twenty-five dollars he (Luckett) had given to Ferrandini.
"'The conversation at once got into politics; and Ferrandini, who is a fine-looking, intelligent-appearing person, became very excited. He shows the Italian in, I think, a very marked degree; and, although excited, yet was cooler than what I had believed was the general characteristic of Italians. He has lived South for many years, and is thoroughly imbued with the idea that the South must rule; that they (Southerners) have been outraged in their rights by the election of Lincoln, and freely justified resorting to any means to prevent Lincoln from taking his seat; and, as he spoke, his eyes fairly glared and glistened, and his whole frame quivered; but he was fully conscious of all he was doing. He is a man well calculated for controlling and directing the ardent-minded; he is an enthusiast, and believes that, to use his own words, "murder of any kind is justifiable and right to save the rights of the Southern people." In all his views he was ably seconded by Captain Turner.
"'Captain Turner is an American; but although very much of a gentleman, and possessing warm Southern feelings, he is not by any means so dangerous a man as Ferrandini, as his ability for exciting others is less powerful; but that he is a bold and proud man there is no doubt, as also that he is entirely under the control of Ferrandini. In fact, he could not be otherwise, for even I myself felt the influence of this man's strange power; and, wrong though I knew him to be, I felt strangely unable to keep my mind balanced against him.
"'Ferrandini said, "Never, never, shall Lincoln be President!" His life (Ferrandini's) was of no consequence; he was willing to give it up for Lincoln's; he would sell it for that abolitionist's; and as Orsini had given his life for Italy, so was he (Ferrandini) ready to die for his country and the rights of the South; and said Ferrandini, turning to Captain Turner, "We shall all die together: we shall show the North that we fear them not. Every man, Captain," said he, "will on that day prove himself a hero. The first shot fired, the main traitor (Lincoln) dead, and all Maryland will be with us, and the South shall be free; and the North must then be ours. Mr. Hutchins," said Ferrandini, "if I alone must do it, I shall: Lincoln shall die in this city."
"'Whilst we were thus talking, we (Mr. Luckett, Turner, Ferrandini and myself) were alone in one corner of the bar-room, and, while talking, two strangers had got pretty near us. Mr. Luckett called Ferrandini's attention to this, and intimated that they were listening; and we went up to the bar, drinked again at my expense, and again retired to another part of the room, at Ferrandini's request, to see if the strangers would again follow us. Whether by accident or design, they again got near us; but of course we were not talking of any matter of consequence. Ferrandini said he suspected they were spies, and suggested that he had to attend a secret meeting, and was apprehensive that the two strangers might follow him; and, at Mr. Luckett's request, I remained with him (Luckett) to watch the movements of the strangers. I assured Ferrandini that if they would attempt to follow him, we would whip them.
"'Ferrandini and Turner left to attend the meeting, and, anxious as I was to follow them myself, I was obliged to remain with Mr. Luckett to watch the strangers, which we did for about fifteen minutes, when Mr. Luckett said that he should go to a friend's to stay over night, and I left for my hotel, arriving there at about 9 P. M., and soon retired.'
"It is in a secret communication between hireling spies and paid informers that these ferocious sentiments are attributed to the poor knight of the soap-pot. No disinterested person would believe the story upon such evidence; and it will appear hereafter that even the detective felt that it was too weak to mention among his strong points, at that decisive moment when he revealed all he knew to the President and his friends. It is probably a mere fiction. If it had had any foundation in fact, we are inclined to believe that the sprightly and eloquent barber would have dangled at a rope's end long since. He would hardly have been left to shave and plot in peace, while the members of the Legislature, the Police Marshal, and numerous private gentlemen, were locked up in Federal prisons. When Mr. Lincoln was actually slain, four years later, and the cupidity of the detectives was excited by enormous rewards, Ferrandini was totally unmolested. But even if Ferrandini really said all that is here imputed to him, he did no more than many others around him were doing at the same time. He drank and talked, and made swelling speeches; but he never took, nor seriously thought of taking, the first step toward the frightful tragedy he is said to have contemplated.
"The detectives are cautious not to include in the supposed plot to murder any person of eminence, power, or influence. Their game is all of the smaller sort, and, as they conceived, easily taken—witless vagabonds like Hilliard and Luckett, and a barber, whose calling indicates his character and associations.[17] They had no fault to find with the Governor of the State; he was rather a lively trimmer, to be sure, and very anxious to turn up at last on the winning side; but it was manifestly impossible that one in such an exalted station could meditate murder. Yet, if they had pushed their inquiries with an honest desire to get at the truth, they might have found much stronger evidence against the Governor than that which they pretend to have found against the barber. In the Governor's case the evidence is documentary, written, authentic—over his own hand, clear and conclusive as pen and ink could make it. As early as the previous November, Governor Hicks had written the following letter; and, notwithstanding its treasonable and murderous import, the writer became conspicuously loyal before spring, and lived to reap splendid rewards and high honors, under the auspices of the Federal Government, as the most patriotic and devoted Union man in Maryland. The person to whom the letter was addressed was equally fortunate; and, instead of drawing out his comrades in the field to 'kill Lincoln and his men,' he was sent to Congress by power exerted from Washington at a time when the administration selected the representatives of Maryland, and performed all his duties right loyally and acceptably. Shall one be taken and another left? Shall Hicks go to the Senate and Webster to Congress, while the poor barber is held to the silly words which he is alleged to have sputtered out between drinks in a low groggery, under the blandishments and encouragements of an eager spy, itching for his reward?