The Emancipation Proclamation largely applied to slaves in areas that were not yet under Union control and that gives people the opportunity to argue that the Proclamation was toothless or ineffective. There will always be a group of people who want to take a contrary position for the sake of being disagreeable.
But, yes, Lincoln began the process of freeing the slaves with the Emancipation Proclamation. It’s not as if the Proclamation was rolled back or swept under the rug once those rebellious regions came under Union control. More importantly, the Proclamation gave slaves an understanding that they had a ticket to freedom declared by the President of the United States. Scores upon scores of slaves were encouraged by word and proof of the Proclamation and gave them genuine hope and belief that their government would back them up if they took the step of breaking their own chains of bondage and heading North or finding their way into Union military lines. Without that sense of legal protection, it seemed almost unthinkable for most slaves and their families to set out on their own. It did not free every slave in every region of the United States, but it was a green light (forgive the anachronism) to leave the horrors of human bondage behind in order to take the long walk to freedom.
Incidentally, the Emancipation Proclamation had an very important impact on the Union soldiers, too. With the Proclamation, President Lincoln made it crystal clear that the Civil War was no longer just an attempt to crush a rebellion and hold the United States together. From that point forward, the abolition of slavery officially became a leading aim of the war. Earlier during the Civil War, President Lincoln famously wrote to the New York Tribune’s Horace Greeley:
"My paramount object in this struggle is to save the Union, and is not either to save or to destroy slavery. If I could save the Union without freeing any slave I would do it, and if I could save it by freeing all the slaves I would do it; and if I could save it by freeing some and leaving others alone I would do that."
The Emancipation Proclamation was a declaration that the “paramount object” of the struggle for Lincoln (and, through him, the entire Union military) had shifted and abolishing slavery was now the leading mission of the Union war effort as Northern troops began turning the tide and claiming some much needed battlefield successes. Whether or not it immediately applied to their region on January 1, 1863 when the Emancipation Proclamation went into effect, it had a tangible impact on slaves throughout the country as an obvious first step in the progression from human bondage to the landmark Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution, which officially abolished slavery in the United States of America.
Lincoln and Kennedy are more iconic figures because Lincoln led the country through the Civil War and was murdered just days after Lee surrendered to Grant and Kennedy and his young family truly felt like a page in American history had been turned and the country was moving forward with the first President born in the 20th Century. There was also a bigger shock with the Lincoln and Kennedy assassinations. Lincoln was the first President to be assassinated, many people saw him as almost the symbolic final casualty of the Civil War, and his funeral was a national event with stops in over a dozen American cities over twenty days. JFK was shot to death in front of many people (including his wife), in the middle of the day, in a major American city, and the man charged with his assassination was himself murdered just two days later live on national television.
Garfield and McKinley weren’t quite as charismatic as Lincoln or Kennedy, and they hadn’t made as much of an impact on daily American life as Lincoln and Kennedy. Garfield had only been President for a couple of months and McKinley was a low-key figure — an able, popular President, but not as beloved by as many people as Lincoln or Kennedy. But it is important to note that, at the time of their assassinations, Garfield and McKinley were widely mourned by the American people, much like Lincoln and Kennedy were. Their deaths just didn’t have as lasting of an impact.
Another possible reason for the differences in the assassinations might be the immediate impact. The Lincoln and Kennedy assassinations were sudden and their deaths were immediately shocking. Lincoln was shot late in the evening of April 14, 1865, there was no hope of recovery, and he died early the next morning. Kennedy was basically killed instantly. He was still breathing when he reached the hospital, but there wasn’t a single person who expected him to survive the massive head wound that he suffered.
With Garfield and McKinley, neither President died instantly. In fact, at some point following their respective shootings it was believed that Garfield and McKinley both might survive their wounds. Garfield was shot on July 2, 1881 and survived until September 19th. In reality, President Garfield didn’t die directly from his gunshot wounds — he died from infections introduced into his body by doctors who probed his wounds with their dirty fingers and unsterilized instruments. McKinley didn’t survive his shooting nearly as long as Garfield did, but he lingered for 8 days after being shot on September 6, 1901, dying on September 14th. Garfield and McKinley rallied enough while fighting for their lives that it raised hopes that they might survive. Indeed, they would have survived with better medical care. When Ronald Reagan was shot in 1981, his wounds were far more serious than those which killed Garfield and McKinley.
So, while the nation was still stunned and devastated by the deaths of Garfield and McKinley, they didn’t have the same immediate impact as the deaths of Lincoln and Kennedy. With Garfield and McKinley, the American people had a little bit of time to prepare for the worst. That didn’t necessarily make it easier to accept, but I think it possibly softened the blow.
Another possibility is that the assassins of Garfield and McKinley were both captured, brought to trial, convicted, and executed. John Wilkes Booth very nearly made his way to the Deep South and possible escape after shooting Lincoln but he was cornered and killed rather than being arrested and tried. And, of course, Lee Harvey Oswald was murdered while in police custody which helped perpetuate conspiracy theories about the JFK assassination that a majority of Americans believe are true.
April 24, 1865, Union Square, New York City, New York.
As a funeral cortege carries the body of slain President Abraham Lincoln through the streets of New York City, the small heads of two young boys are visible as they watch the procession from the second-story window of their grandfather’s home.
Forty years later, one of those boys would think back to that day as he wore a ring which contained a lock of Lincoln’s hair, placed his hand in the air and said, “I, Theodore Roosevelt, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
The other little boy was Theodore’s younger brother, Elliott, the father of future First Lady, Eleanor Roosevelt.
And you wonder why I find this stuff so fascinating.
I more than suspect that he is deeply conscious of being in the wrong — that he feels the blood of this [Mexican] war, like the blood of Abel, is crying to Heaven against him…He is a bewildered, confounded, and miserably perplexed man.
Abraham Lincoln, criticizing President James K. Polk and the Mexican War in a speech on the floor of the House of Representatives, December 22, 1848
It’s a confusing one, but Andrew Johnson was a Democrat.
The reason for the.confusion stems from the fact that Johnson was elected Vice President in 1864 alongside Abraham Lincoln, who was a Republican. Lincoln and Johnson ran in 1864 under a unified party ticket — they were nominated as the National Union candidates, in fact.
But Lincoln was a Republican, of course, and Johnson’s ties to the Democratic Party were no secret. Actually, that was the appeal. To balance the ticket better in 1864, Lincoln dumped his first term Vice President, Hannibal Hamlin, a Republican who came from about as far North as one could come from — Maine.
The Republicans, gathering under the National Union banner in 1864, wanted to balance the ticket better because there were worries about a strong challenge from the Democratic nominee, former General George B. McClellan, and McClellan’s running mate, George H. Pendleton of Ohio.
The National Unionists were made up of the Republicans who had supported Lincoln since 1860 and Democrats supportive of Lincoln’s leadership in prosecuting the Civil War and wary of what McClellan might do if he happened to be elected President. Johnson fit right in with the National Unionists — a Democrat who supported Lincoln and, better yet, a running mate who could balance the ticket politically and geographically.
Despite belonging to a different party, there was no doubt about Johnson’s loyalty to Lincoln and the Union. Johnson was the only Southern Senator to remain loyal to the Union and hold on to his seat after secession, the formation of the Confederacy, and the outbreak of Civil War. Johnson spent most of the war as Military Governor of Tennessee.
Johnson only served as Vice President for 42 days, succeeding to the Presidency upon Lincoln’s assassination. Once Johnson became President, the fact that he was actually a Democrat eventually caused him major problems. Johnson clashed with his Cabinet, most of whom were holdovers from the Lincoln Administration. His battles with Congress, particularly the Radical Republicans, helped contribute to his failures as President, and after the House of Representatives impeached him in 1868, Johnson was narrowly acquitted in his Senate trial. The Senate was just one vote short of the two-thirds necessary to convict him and remove him from office.
As President, Johnson wasn’t quite a “President without a party” like John Tyler, but his election alongside Lincoln in 1864 on the National Union ticket did put Johnson in an awkward position once he assumed the Presidency. After all, Lincoln and Johnson DID defeat opponents duly nominated by the Democratic Party. Johnson was also in a strange position because the Democratic Party was so weak following the Civil War and throughout Reconstruction.
But Johnson was indeed a Democrat. Before the.Civil War, Johnson won elections as a Democratic candidate to become Mayor of Greenville, Tennessee, a Member of the Tennessee House of Representatives, a Tennessee State Senator, a U.S. Representative, Governor of Tennessee, and a U.S. Senator. And, despite his disastrous Presidency, Johnson found some redemption shortly before his death as he once again won election (as a Democrat) to the U.S. Senate.
The President of the United States is no emperor, no dictator. He can do nothing unless he is backed by power in Congress. The House of Representatives is largely in the majority against him. In the Senate he will also be powerless.
Alexander Hamilton Stephens, in a speech to the Georgia Legislature attempting to calm the fears about Abraham Lincoln’s election.
Shortly afterwards, Georgia seceded from the Union and Stephens became Vice President of the Confederacy.
I declare to you…that for personal considerations I would rather have a full term in the Senate — a place in which I would feel more consciously able to discharge the duties required, and where there is more chance to make a reputation, and less danger of losing it — than four years of the Presidency.
Abraham Lincoln, October 25, 1860, to a visitor shortly before his election, according to John G. Nicolay
You would be hard-pressed to find many comparisons between Franklin Pierce, 14th President of the United States, and Abraham Lincoln, 16th President of the United States. Most historians agree that Lincoln is probably the greatest President in American History; a similar amount of historians usually rank Pierce as one of the worst. Lincoln guided the country through Civil War and to victory; the policies of Pierce’s Administration helped divide the nation and make Civil War a reality. Despite being born in the South, Lincoln fought during every minute of his Presidency to keep the Union together; Pierce, born and raised in New Hampshire, was a “doughface” (a Northerner with Southern sympathies), and close friends with Confederate President Jefferson Davis who served as Secretary of War in Pierce’s Administration. Lincoln died just days after the surrender of Robert E. Lee at Appomattox and was immediately considered a martyr by the American public after his death. After dispersing a crowd that angrily gathered in front of his home following Lincoln’s assassination, Franklin Pierce went back to doing what he had done since leaving the White House in 1857 — drinking himself to death.
There is one thing that links these two men beyond the fact that they were both Presidents during the most divisive period in American History — tragedy. In the exclusive fraternity of American Presidents, it’s impossible to find two more melancholy individuals than Franklin Pierce and Abraham Lincoln.
Lincoln battled deep depression throughout his life and, as a young man in Illinois, Lincoln admitted that he contemplated suicide at times. During his career as a lawyer riding the Illinois court circuit, Lincoln’s friend Joshua Speed recalls the future President remarking “If what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family, there would not be one cheerful face on the earth. Whether I shall ever be better I cannot tell; I awfully forebode that I shall not. To remain as I am is impossible; I must die or be better, it appears to me.”
What troubled Lincoln is difficult to pinpoint. Before he married Mary Todd, Lincoln was romantically interested in Ann Rutledge, the daughter of a New Salem, Illinois tavern owner. Lincoln was a frequent visitor to the Rutledge home and was devastated when Ann died of typhoid fever in 1835. William H. Herndon — Lincoln’s longtime law partner and one of the first biographers of Lincoln — acknowledged that the future President loved Ann Rutledge and that the grieving Lincoln was suicidal in the days and weeks following Ann’s funeral. Five years after Ann Rutledge’s death, Lincoln and Mary Todd were engaged, and the couple married in 1842. Mary had a terrible temper and her mental condition was so tenuous that her son, Robert, finally had her committed to an asylum after President Lincoln’s death. Mary was a lot of things that Lincoln was not — short, overweight, confrontational, insecure, and temperamental. The marriage was rocky at times, but Lincoln was passionately defensive about charges against his wife. When Mary lost control and screamed at Lincoln or charged the President with jealous accusations, Lincoln walked away from the fights and always returned to check on Mary’s condition once she cooled down. For a President trying to save his country from destruction, these personal domestic crises had to be taxing on Lincoln.
To find a bright spot somewhere, Lincoln turned to his children for solace. Lincoln’s four sons were all born in Springfield, Illinois with Robert Todd Lincoln leading the way in 1843. By the time of Lincoln’s Presidency, Robert was an adult attending Harvard and he spent the last months of the Civil War on the staff of General Ulysses S. Grant. The second son, Edward Baker Lincoln, was another source of sadness for the Lincolns. Edward died at the age of four; an event that left Mary on the brink of breakdown and pushed Lincoln to cherish the next two children, Willie (born in 1850), and Tad (born in 1853). As President, Lincoln was horrified by dispatches describing the ongoing Civil War, tried to shut out the distractions caused by his unstable wife, and discovered happiness only in those moments where he could play with Willie and Tad.
Willie Lincoln was dedicated to his love for books, much like his father, and it was no secret to anyone that Willie was the President’s favorite child. Tad was more rambunctious, always into joking and playing around, and Lincoln took great satisfaction from Tad’s affinity for dressing up like the soldiers who protected Washington and the White House from the rebel forces. Like the Biblical Job, however, Lincoln had to face adversity while persevering relentlessly towards his goal. In February 1862, Willie Lincoln took ill after riding his beloved pony in chilly weather. Doctors ordered bed rest and Willie rallied at first, but on February 20th, he died from what is thought to be typhoid fever. The Lincolns were devastated, Mary was inconsolable and shut herself off from the world for three weeks. Lincoln worried about Mary while also nursing his youngest son, Tad, who came down with the same illness that killed Willie and was in critical condition himself. Tad recovered, but Lincoln was at times overcome by sadness. Every Thursday for several weeks, Lincoln locked himself in the Green Room of the White House, the room where Willie’s body had been laid out and embalmed after he died, and cried for his lost son.
Throughout his life, Lincoln had loved few things more than reading Shakespeare out loud to family and friends. After Willie died, the President’s voice would break with emotion and his eyes would be flooded by tears when he recited these lines from King John:
And, father cardinal, I have heard you say
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven
If that be true, I shall see my boy again
Though he never shrank from his responsibilities as Commander-in-Chief in the midst of a brutal Civil War, Lincoln confided to others that Willie’s death “showed me my weakness as I had never felt it before.” Only once more did he feel a pinch of unrestrained happiness and that was on the day that he truly considered the Civil War to finally be over — April 14, 1865. That night, John Wilkes Booth ended Abraham Lincoln’s suffering.
It was Willie Lincoln’s death in the White House in 1862 that brought Franklin Pierce and Abraham Lincoln the closest that they would ever be. Men of different political parties, different backgrounds, and different viewpoints on the biggest issue of the day; they were as far apart politically as they were in physical appearance. Lincoln was described by even his closest friends as “ugly” and his opponents likened him to a “baboon”. Lincoln wore the same old suit constantly, he rarely took the time to comb his hair, and he didn’t care what people thought of his “style”. Franklin Pierce looked like a Roman statue come to life. Pierce had long, curly, jet-black hair that he combed over the side of his forehead, he dressed impeccably, and one historian calls him “perhaps the most handsome President”. Even President Harry Truman — a vicious detractor of Pierce’s Presidency — called Pierce “the best-looking President the White House ever had” and suggested that he “looked the way people who make movies think a President should look”.
Behind those looks, however, was a man who was as unsuccessful at fighting depression as he was at fighting alcoholism. Franklin Pierce was ambitious and rose to the Presidency at a younger age than any of his predecessors. His ambition, however, strained his marriage with Jane Means Appleton, who hated politics and hated Washington, D.C. Pierce didn’t help the marriage by not consulting with Jane before undertaking a life-changing experience such as accepting the Democratic nomination for President in 1852. Jane had heard that Franklin was being considered as a compromise choice by the Democratic National Convention in Baltimore, but believed that he had no chance against better-known names such as James Buchanan, Lewis Cass, and Stephen A. Douglas. While out for a carriage ride in Cambridge, Massachusetts, a rider galloped up to the wagon carrying the Pierces with the news that Franklin had won the Democratic nomination. Franklin smiled excitedly, but Jane nearly passed out. Pierce had promised that he was done with politics, that they were done with Washington forever, and now it was a near-certainty that he would be elected President of the United States.
Like the Lincolns, the Pierce family had lost two sons at young age. The first born, Frank Jr., died as an infant, and their second son, Franklin Robert Pierce, died at the age of four. Their son Benjamin was their only surviving offspring, and they devoted all of their parental love to Bennie. In times of the deep depression that both Franklin and Jane suffered from, both parents could turn to Bennie for some joy and to remind themselves that not all was lost. Like his mother, Bennie was shy and unhappy about a potential move to Washington. Shortly after Pierce won the Democratic nomination, Bennie wrote his mother: “I hope he won’t be elected for I should not like to be at Washington. And I know you would not be either.” The hopes and prayers of his wife and his son were in complete opposition to those of Franklin Pierce. He wanted, more than anything, to be President. On Election Day, he was granted his wish as he trounced General Winfield Scott on won the Presidential election.
While Franklin prepared to take the reins of the country, Jane and Bennie prepared for the dreaded move into the White House in Washington. Jane tried her best to project some happiness for Franklin’s sake, and she found some assistance from her religious devotion. As 1853 began, the Pierces prepared for the move to Washington, D.C. and left New Hampshire in January, deciding to stop in Massachusetts for visits with family and friends before arriving in Washington for the inauguration scheduled on March 4th.
On January 6, 1853, a train carrying the young President-elect, his wife, and their only surviving son left Andover, Massachusetts. Just a few minutes after departing Andover, the passenger car detached from the train and rolled down an embankment. None of the passengers including Franklin Pierce and his wife were injured except for one person. In front of his horrified parents, 11-year-old Benjamin Pierce was thrown from the train and was nearly decapitated as his head was gruesomely crushed. Bennie Pierce was killed instantly, and his parents would never be the same.
Less than two months later, Pierce was sworn in as President. The only President who memorized his inaugural address and recited the speech without notes, Pierce started by telling the crowd in front of the U.S. Capitol, “It is a relief to feel that no heart but my own can know the personal regret and bitter sorrow over which I have been borne to a position so suitable for others rather than desirable for myself.” Traumatized by Bennie’s death, Jane refused to continue any further towards Washington than Baltimore. Pierce had to face the Presidency and the mourning period for their son without his wife. As he told the American public in his inaugural address, “You have summoned me in my weakness; you must sustain me with your strength.”
When Jane finally arrived at the White House, she still didn’t make much of an impact. People referred to her as “the shadow of the White House” and she frequently closed herself off in an upstairs bedroom where she wrote letters to her dead children and stuffed them in a fireplace. Jefferson Davis’s wife, Varina, often substituted as White House hostess. In a way, Jane indirectly blamed her husband for Bennie’s death, claiming that God took Bennie from them so that Franklin would have nothing distracting him from his goals and accomplishments. When Jane died in 1863, Pierce’s closest friend, Nathaniel Hawthorne, said that she was never interested in “things present”.
Franklin’s “accomplishments” were not much. He had a difficult time saying “no”, and often agreed to go along with the last person he talked to before making a decision. Pierce was indeed absent of distractions, but he needed some. The country was being torn apart by the slavery question and the Kansas-Nebraska Act inflamed tensions; it was no longer a matter of debate — in some places, open warfare was breaking out. The President found his distraction came in the form of a bottle. President Pierce was an alcoholic and in 1856, his own party refused to consider him for re-election. As his term ended at the beginning of 1857, Pierce said, “There’s nothing left to do but to get drunk.” He lived by that motto until his drinking finally killed him in 1869.
During Franklin Pierce’s retirement, he spoke out against Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War itself. Some called him a traitor, and even his close friends snubbed him. When Pierce’s friend, Nathaniel Hawthorne, died, he wasn’t even allowed to be a pall bearer as Hawthorne requested. But despite their many differences, Lincoln found himself in a place that only Franklin Pierce knew — mourning a lost child and worrying about an unstable wife while running a divided country. A few weeks following Willie’s death, President Lincoln received this letter:
Concord N. H.
March 4 1862
My dear Sir,
The impulse to write you, the moment I heard of your great domestic affliction was very strong, but it brought back the crushing sorrow which befel me just before I went to Washington in 1853, with such power that I felt your grief, to be too sacred for intrusion.
Even in this hour, so full of danger to our Country, and of trial and anxiety to all good men, your thoughts, will be, of your cherished boy, who will nestle at your heart, until you meet him in that new life, when tears and toils and conflict will be unknown.
I realize fully how vain it would be, to suggest sources of consolation.
There can be but one refuge in such an hour, — but one remedy for smitten hearts, which, is to trust in Him “who doeth all things well”, and leave the rest to —
“Time, comforter & only healer
When the heart hath broke”
With Mrs Pierce’s and my own best wishes — and truest sympathy for Mrs Lincoln and yourself
I am, very truly,
The melancholy Presidents — so far apart in each and every other aspect of their lives — could at the very least find companionship, if not comfort, in the other’s strength through painful weakness.
I think your misgivings about O’Reilly’s books are valid, not shallow or ignorant. He has a reputation that he has built up over the years and it makes sense to be wary, especially if you are interested in reading about the Lincoln or Kennedy assassinations from a purely historic perspective.
Unfortunately, I can’t answer the question for you because I’ve never actually read O’Reilly’s Killing Lincoln or Killing Kennedy. While I also would have been bothered by the books if they were politically-focused, that’s actually not why I never ended up reading them. Quite frankly, I’ve read a lot of books about the Lincoln and Kennedy assassinations — at least a dozen books each simply about the respective assassinations — so there isn’t a whole lot of new information that I come across. Sure, I appreciate reading how different writers tell the stories, but at this point, I want to spend that time on books that might cover some new ground. Maybe I was being a bit shallow myself, but I basically felt that I wouldn’t be finding anything new or groundbreaking in books that most people bought at Walmart.
Now, to be fair, I have talked to some people who have read O’Reilly’s Killing Lincoln and Killing Kennedy — people whose opinion I value and respect — and they say that they are perfectly good books. The history is supposedly solid, O’Reilly’s politics aren’t an issue, and the storytelling is crisp. O’Reilly is not a dumb guy — he was a history major, used to teach history, and was a “real” journalist before he became a talking head. Not only that, but the books are co-written by Martin Dugard, who is a very, very good historian. Dugard has written numerous books that I have read and really liked, but I would especially recommend The Last Voyage of Columbus: Being the Epic Tale of the Great Captain’s Fourth Adventure, Including Accounts of Mutiny, Shipwreck, and Discovery, Into Africa: The Epic Adventures of Stanley and Livingstone, and The Training Ground: Grant, Lee, Sherman, and Davis in the Mexican War, 1846-1848. O’Reilly can be a jackass on television, but he picked one hell of a historian as a writing partner. That would also lead me to believe that Killing Lincoln and Killing Kennedy are probably worth the read and that O’Reilly likely leaves his politics out of the books in favor of the history and good storytelling.
Abraham Lincoln was an inveterate animal-lover throughout his life. He always doted on pets and despised activities such as hunting and fishing. There are many anecdotes passed down through the years which explain his affinity for animals such as the time he helped find homes for stray kittens that he found wandering around the ruins while visiting conquered Richmond, Virginia a few days after the end of the Civil War, or the time he “pardoned” a turkey that was destined for the Thanksgiving dinner table in 1863.
Perhaps no other animal touched Lincoln as deeply as his beloved dog, Fido, though. Lincoln’s name for the golden retriever that he obtained in 1855 was derived from the Latin term “Fidelitas”, which is loosely translated as “faithful”. The Lincoln family gave Fido the run of their house in Springfield, Illinois, allowed him to sleep on couches, fed him from the dinner table, and considered him a part of their family.
When Lincoln was elected President in 1860, he worried about bringing Fido to Washington. Fido didn’t like loud noises such as cannon fire or trains, and the President-elect would be traveling from Illinois to Washington by train and greeted in every town along the way by celebratory cannon fire. With a heavy heart, the distraught Lincoln decided that Fido was better off staying in Springfield as he didn’t feel that his loyal dog could survive the long train ride to the capital. Lincoln entrusted Fido to neighbors but insisted that Fido be allowed to roam around his new home at will, eat from the dinner table, and be given lenience if he were to misbehave or make a mess. The President-elect even gave a horsehair sofa to his neighbors because it was Fido’s favorite place to sleep.
Lincoln was devastated at his separation from Fido and shortly before leaving Springfield for the last time, the President-elect took his dog to a photo studio so that Fido could sit for pictures and Lincoln could have a remembrance of his beloved golden retriever. While working in his White House office during the Civil War, Lincoln’s photo of Fido was never too far away.
When President Lincoln was assassinated in 1865 and his body was returned to Springfield for burial, Fido greeted mourners at the home that the Lincolns formerly lived in. Sadly, Fido’s life ended just a year after Abraham Lincoln died and in fairly similar circumstances. In 1866, Fido met the same fate as his master when he was senselessly attacked by a drunken man with knife in Springfield. Like his master, Fido was assassinated.
No, there were allegations that the conspiracy involved a lot more Confederates or Southern sympathizers (including Confederate President Jefferson Davis), but there weren’t any suspicions about members of Lincoln’s Administration. Eventually it became clear that the conspiracy was designed and driven by Booth and President Davis wasn’t involved. In fact, Davis realized that Lincoln’s death was devastating to the South and to the upcoming Reconstruction. Among other things, following the assassination Davis said “I certainly have no regard for Mr. Lincoln but there are a great many men of whose end I would much rather have heard than his. I fear it will be disastrous to our people, and I regret it deeply”, “His successor is a worse man”, and, most famously, “Next to the destruction of the Confederacy, the death of Abraham Lincoln was the darkest day the South has ever known.”
As for Booth’s conspiracy, it did work in the result that Lincoln was killed, but it really wasn’t a plan that Booth thought out very well. Although Booth’s plan was to decapitate the federal government by killing Lincoln, Vice President Andrew Johnson, and Secretary of State William H. Seward, I think that the fact that Lincoln died and Johnson survived was far more destructive than if they had both died. Booth was hoping that the assassinations would throw the nation into confusion and threaten the continuity of government, but if Lincoln and Johnson had died, Seward wouldn’t have become President. The order of succession at the time designated the President pro tempore of the United States Senate next in line to the Presidency following the Vice President and would have triggered a special election later that year. If Lincoln and Johnson both died, Senator Lafayette Foster of Connecticut would have become President and a special election would have been held in December 1865. Next in line following Foster would have been the Speaker of the House, Schuyler Colfax. Continuity of government was never threatened and wouldn’t have been even if George Atzerodt had followed through on his mission to kill Vice President Johnson or if Lewis Paine’s brutal attack of Secretary of State Seward was successful (which it nearly was). Had Booth’s targets included Senator Foster and Speaker Colfax, perhaps the conspiracy would have resulted as Booth dreamed it would. But Atzerodt chickened out on the assassination of Andrew Johnson, Seward somehow survived Paine’s stabbing, and Foster and Colfax weren’t on Booth’s radar.