May 22, 1863, a general order, No. 143, establishing a bureau "for the
organization of colored troops," and providing for the detail of three
field officers as Inspectors of these troops and for the creation of a
board to examine applicants was issued from the War Department.
Although some colored men had been enlisted in Louisville and, under
the authority of General Hunter, in South Carolina, the above order
was the first formal recognition of this class of troops by the
Government.
The Inspectors were to supervise at such points as might be indicated
by the War Department "in the Northern and Western States," but
recruiting stations and depots were to be established by the
Adjutant-general as circumstances should require: the first clause
expressing the conservatism of President Lincoln, and the second
affording a wider range for the energies of Secretary Stanton.
The first Inspector detailed was Colonel William Birney, of the 4th
New Jersey Volunteers. He was an Alabamian by birth, the son of James
G. Birney, who had been the Presidential candidate of the Liberty
party in 1840 and 1844. He had enlisted as a private and been elected
Captain in the 1st New Jersey, had served through the different
regimental grades, and had just been nominated to the Senate as
Brigadier-general. At the beginning of the war he predicted to his
friends, Secretary Chase and Henry Wilson (chairman of the Senate
Committee on military affairs), the exigency for calling colored
troops into the service, and had offered, in that event, to aid in
organizing them without regard to his grade in the white troops. Hence
his detail after more than two years' waiting.
Reporting at Washington in the first days of June for his new duty,
Colonel Birney was kindly received by the Secretary of War, but found
that neither he nor Mr. Lincoln had marked out any definite line of
action or had any orders ready to give him. Day after day his anxious
inquiries were met by the same answer:
"Wait a little longer; we are not ready yet."
Finally, about the 10th of June, weary with oscillating between the
Ebbitt House and the War Department, the Colonel asked leave of Mr.
Stanton to organize a colored regiment at Washington. Written orders
were refused, but oral permission to do what he could was granted him.
He went to work at once, and before the 18th of June he had enlisted,
uniformed, armed, and equipped four hundred men, gathered from
Washington, Georgetown, Alexandria, and the country beyond. They were
of course very raw material, but their habits of obedience and
temperance were equivalent to the usual quickness and independence of
the white troops. They were proud of their new position and
enthusiastic in learning the manual of arms, even rising at four
o'clock in the morning to begin their drill, which they practised
incessantly through the day. The brightest among them were made
sergeants and corporals, while young officers from the white regiments
around Washington were detailed to serve as captains and lieutenants.
By the end of the month the 1st U. S. Colored Regiment was full, and
Colonel Birney marched it down the avenue, past the White House to the
Capitol, and back; affording a rare spectacle to the crowds that
followed it, and one which the old inhabitants of the city certainly
had never expected to see. But there they were, ten companies of
black, brown, and yellow men, ex-slaves, dressed in the uniform of the
United States, armed and equipped like white soldiers, and pledged to
stand by the Government in its struggle with their former masters.
They made a fine appearance, marching quite as well as white soldiers,
and calling forth many compliments for themselves and their officers.
Still no orders came from the War Department, and it was some time
before Colonel Birney understood the cause of the delay. Recruiting
for colored troops had been begun in Philadelphia and Boston, but
progressed slowly; and at Washington men were not obtained in any
great numbers from the resident free people of color, but were mostly
fugitive slaves from Maryland and Virginia. Colonel Birney represented
to Mr. Stanton the advantages of recruiting, in the States named, and
the superiority as soldiers of the men raised on farms to those
gathered in the alleys and slums of northern cities.
The Secretary listened attentively, and after reflecting a few
moments, said:
"Go over to the White House and have a talk with the President. Don't
say that I sent you. We will talk the matter over afterwards."
The Colonel was promptly admitted to Mr. Lincoln's presence, and a
complimentary remark of the President on the excellent appearance made
by the colored regiment opened the way for his visitor to give his
views about recruiting from the Maryland farms.
"What!" exclaimed Mr. Lincoln; "you surely do not mean that we should
take the slaves?"
"Mr. President," replied the Colonel, "a man's allegiance to his
Government is not subordinate to claims of private parties upon him.
If he is willing to fight for his country he should be allowed to do
it."
"But my pledge!" said Mr. Lincoln. "You forget my pledge to the loyal
slave States, in my proclamation of emancipation."
Here, then, was the point of difference between Mr. Stanton and the
President. The former was willing to recruit colored troops in the
loyal slave States, and the latter was opposed to it.
Of course the subject was dropped.
On the 28th of June Col. Birney was ordered to Norfolk to recruit
slaves of rebels, but he had scarcely begun when another order brought
him back to Washington.
Arriving about the 4th of July, Mr. Stanton showed him a letter from
General Schenck, commanding the district of Maryland, stating that
large numbers of free men of color had been gathered at Baltimore to
work on the fortifications, and that a competent officer, if sent at
once, might get a great many recruits among them. In answer to the
Secretary's question of what he thought of this, Colonel Birney
answered:
"I can organize several regiments in Baltimore, but probably not from
the class mentioned by General Schenck. Free colored men will not
fight to help the Government maintain slavery in Maryland; and that is
the President's pledge. But the slaves will enlist, for they will get
their freedom by it. If you send me to Maryland it must be with the
knowledge that I will never recognize one man's right of property in
another. I believe, with the Vermont justice, that the only proof of
such a right is a deed signed and sealed by the Creator."
Mr. Stanton laughed. "Well," he said, "whatever you do, remember you
do it on your own responsibility." This was repeated and emphasized.
The Colonel accepted the terms, asking the favor, however, that Mr.
Stanton would do what he could for him in the event of the President's
displeasure. This was cheerfully promised, and the necessary orders
were then made out. A letter also was written to General Schenck
directing him to recognize Colonel Birney as in charge of the
recruiting of colored troops in Maryland, and to have his requisitions
honored by the ordinance, commissary, and quartermaster officers.
That is, the Colonel was to have _carte blanche_ for his special
business.
The large barracks near Druid Hill Park having been assigned for his
use by General Schenck, who named them "Birney Barracks," the Colonel
telegraphed for the 1st Regiment. As the "Plug Uglies" before the war,
and the attacks made on the first northern volunteers by the Baltimore
populace, had given that city the reputation of being peopled chiefly
by roughs and rebels, it was thought best to have a sufficient force
there to overawe the violent.
The regiment, under command of Colonel Holman, arrived at night
without accident. It was put into good condition, and a few days
later, with Colonel Birney riding at its head, was marched, with
music, flying colors, and fixed bayonets, through the principal
streets of the city, causing immense excitement and some apprehension
among all classes. Doors and blinds were hastily closed, and the
police gathered in force to be ready to repress disorders. But none
occurred. One man was arrested for hurrahing for Jeff Davis; but this,
scarcely worth noticing, was the only incident that indicated rebel
sentiment.
From that date the populace accepted the situation, and it was quite
safe for recruiting squads of colored soldiers to march through every
quarter of the city.
It was worth going some distance to see the sergeant selected to
command these squads march his men out. Black as a coal, his grand,
martial air and proud assumption of authority were most impressive,
while his stern, ringing voice made itself heard all over the drill
ground. No doubt his pompous manner, aided by his uniform, had much to
do in bringing in recruits.
The business of recruiting was, however, one of peculiar danger in
other places. About this time a Lieutenant who had been left at
Norfolk by Colonel Birney was foully murdered. A little later another
was shot down near Benedict, and a recruiting agent was mobbed and
killed in Frederick County. On two occasions armed men lay in ambush
for the purpose of shooting Colonel Birney, but he was forewarned.
It very soon became evident that more energetic means must be adopted
for filling up regiments. Accordingly, a requisition was made for a
small steamboat for the purpose of recruiting along the eastern shore
of Maryland. Before, however, completing his arrangements to do this,
Colonel Birney's attention was called to another matter, the result
of which did not tend to make him more popular with Maryland
slave-owners.
Calling at General Schenck's office, one morning, a letter was handed
him to read by Adjutant-general Piatt, which I here copy _verbatim et
literatim_. It was addressed to President Lincoln and dated:
"BALTIMORE, June 15, 1863.
"HON. PRESIDENT ABRAHAM LICCLN. _Sir_: i would like to inquire
from you sir that we slaves are entitle to Be confine In
prison By our masters or not sir. We have bin In Prison for
two years and a half and some are Bin in here for seventeen
months and so our masters are Rible General A. B. Steward and
are now in the Rible Army sir and put us slaves here Before He
went into the Rible Army and we are Bin here Ever sence and we
are waitin to Be inlisted in the army or navy sir to fite for
the stars and stripes there is about 20 of slaves in the Balto
city jail our masters says that they are going to keep we
slaves in Prison untill the war is over or soon as he can get
a chance to send us slaves Down South to the Rebilious and we
all would like to have our Liberty sir and i sir i wish you
would do something For we Poor Slaves we have no shoes or
clothing to put Put on only what we Beg from the soldiers and
citizens that comes to the Prison i would like to have my
liberty. Direct your letter to Captain James warden in the
city jail then he will give the Slaves their Libberty from
your humble Servant."
No name was signed to this document, probably from prudential reasons.
The name of the warden was, however, repeated, as though to emphasize
the address.
Such an appeal could not but make a profound impression on Colonel
Birney. He caused some inquiries to be made among the colored people,
and learned that there were in the city at least three slave-pens in
which men, women, and children had been confined for safekeeping since
the beginning of the war. Thirty cents a head per day was the charge
for keeping them, and they were to remain in confinement until the
close of hostilities.
Col. Birney decided that no time should be lost in attending to this
business. He called to see General Schenck about it, but the General
had gone to Washington. Colonel Piatt was in the office, however, and
unhesitatingly gave the required permit to open the jails.
Taking with him a few soldiers, Colonel Birney visited, one after the
other, the dreadful pens where nearly one hundred human beings were
found in a condition of misery almost incredible to the present
generation. Nearly all the men and many of the women were chained in
some manner or other. One aged man wore an iron collar to which a
chain was fastened attached to an iron band around one ankle, and so
short that it was with difficulty a step could be taken. Another,
almost as old, was chained in a similar way from an iron belt to both
ankles. Some were handcuffed and some had only their ankles chained
together. The only place for fresh air or exercise was a small
court-yard inclosed by high brick walls which, being whitewashed, had
seriously affected the eyes of all the prisoners. Only a few of them
could see well at night, and some were almost totally blind. A few
afterwards recovered, but several lost their sight completely. In this
condition they had been kept for two years or more.
A blacksmith was sent for, and in a few minutes every chain was broken
and the captives were told that they were free. The younger ones
received the announcement with shouts and laughter, and ran eagerly to
gather up all their little belongings and make themselves as tidy as
possible before leaving the prisons. Others were incredulous and timid
about accepting the boon offered to them, while the older ones, more
deeply imbued with the religious spirit, raised streaming eyes to
heaven and thanked the Lord that their deliverance had come at last.
They were all marched to the barracks and examined by the surgeons. A
few only were found available as soldiers. The others were sent to the
Quartermaster's Department in Washington and disposed of there. The
expressions of gratitude from those who remained with us were most
fervent, but often a little amusing. Colonel Birney was spoken of
among them as a man sent by the Lord, a second Moses come to deliver
and lead His oppressed people. He was prayed for in their evening
prayer-meetings, and the Lord implored to be with him and "purtect him
always, on de right hand and on de left, in de front and in de rar;"
and one earnest old man was heard to pray: "Eben as he hab done it
unto de least ob dese, my chillun, say de Lord, he hab done it unto
me, and we prays dat de Lord will recognize dat fact and bless him
accordin'."
The opening of the slave pens, and the revelations concerning the
treatment of the prisoners confined there, caused, as may well be
supposed, a great sensation. Owners of slaves began to discuss
measures to protect themselves from Colonel Birney's operations.
Reverdy Johnson was appealed to and secured as their representative,
and complaints were forwarded to Washington. That these were not
noticed at that time was due, in a great measure, to the influence of
the Hon. Winter Davis, then member of Congress, and of Judge Hugh L.
Bond, between whom and Colonel Birney a warm friendship existed as
well as entire unanimity of opinion on the colored soldier question.
The Colonel now felt free to carry out the plans he had matured, of
the success of which he had not the slightest doubt. Taking with him a
few of his most reliable officers, he embarked on the steamer that had
been furnished him and started on his first voyage of discovery. He
was absent a little over a week, and was so much encouraged by what he
heard and saw that no delay was made in despatching the boat again,
this time in command of one of the lieutenant-colonels.
And now all along the eastern and western shores the news flew that
able-bodied men would be received as soldiers, transported to a place
of safety, and no questions asked. On it went like the unseen blaze
beneath the pine brush, darting out now here, now there, still
travelling swiftly and silently until it reached the remotest
districts of the State, and the black population knew that its
emancipation was in its own hands. Soon one boat was not enough to
bring away all who were willing to serve in the Union army. A second
boat and then a third were added to the service, and recruiting
stations were opened in various parts of the State. To these flocked
the slaves, fugitives from both rebel and loyal masters, many of them
at the risk of their lives bringing their families with them, walking
often forty and fifty miles to reach the station. Here they were
protected until the boats came along which carried them to Baltimore.
A crowd always gathered to see them land, and followed as--often two
and three hundred together--they were marched in double file through
the streets to the barracks.
It was certainly a grotesque but pathetic spectacle, that of these
people just escaped from bondage, all ragged, many of them with scarce
tatters enough for decency, barefooted and bareheaded, or with
handkerchiefs around their heads, dirty and forlorn, each one carrying
a little bundle containing his entire earthly possessions.
Immediately upon their arrival at the barracks the men were examined,
the able-bodied ones enlisted, the rest otherwise disposed of.
Before the 1st of August the 2d and 4th regiments were complete, the
7th and 8th more than half full, and the 9th was begun.[1]
It was surprising how many men had to be rejected. Sometimes out of
a hundred recruits fifty would be found physically unfit for service.
But those accepted were, as a rule, fine, hearty fellows.
The preliminary process to becoming a soldier was not always relished.
The carbolic soap bath in the river, with the after clipping and
shaving and shampooing, being in many cases a first experience, was
not submitted to in every instance without grumbling. A few even
rebelled, positively refusing to go into the water. A facetious
sergeant, detailed to supervise the scrubbing, originated an argument
which proved most effective.
"Look at you now," he was heard to say, "you ignorant nigger! You
don't know nothin'. Don't you see your ole close a burnin' up on de
sho', and don't you know when you gits inter dat ribber and scrubs wid
de guvment soap you washes all de slavery out ob you? Go 'long wid
you!"
And the subject, aided by a touch of the sergeant's foot, would make
no further resistance.
But when, the bath and barbering over, comfortable under-clothing was
given them and they were then arrayed in bright new uniforms and a
glittering musket was put into their hands, surely Solomon in all his
glory never experienced the glow of satisfaction that warmed the
hearts of these ex-slaves as they viewed each other, and each man knew
that he looked just like his fellows. For the first time in their
lives they were men, not "boys,"--not chattels to be disposed of at
the will of a master, but owning themselves, treated with respect, and
considered worthy to take part with white men in defending the Union.
In many of them the almost immediate change in look and bearing from
cringing humility or unmeaning levity to earnest willingness and
self-confidence was strikingly apparent; in others the change came
gradually, as though time were needed to make them realize the
revolution that had taken place. But it was surprising how quickly the
vast majority learned well what was required of them, and how few
rascals there were. Intemperance and profanity were exceedingly rare
among them, and the guard-house opened its doors to a much less number
than was usual in white regiments.
Of course there was general dissatisfaction among the abandoned
masters and mistresses, many of whom were left without a single
field-hand or house-servant. Scarcely a day passed without bringing
one or two of these owners or their agents to inquire for some Sam or
Tom or Dick. They were always invited up to headquarters to present
their claims, and the records were examined for their satisfaction.
If the names of their slaves were among the enlisted men, the
ex-owners were required to produce a certificate of loyalty from the
provost marshal of their district; and, if this was satisfactory, they
were referred to the Board of Claims, to be organized in Baltimore for
the purpose of deciding upon such cases. If they could show no proper
certificate, they were summarily dismissed. Very often a man would
change his name when he enlisted, thus making it very difficult for
his master to trace him, besides causing confusion and a good deal of
merriment among the young officers, as those who took new names
invariably forgot them.
"Andy Smith!" the sergeant would cry at roll-call; but no Andy Smith
would answer until, the name having been repeated several times, some
comrade would nudge the fellow who had assumed it, saying:
"You is Andy Smith; don't you 'member you is?"
And then there would be a start and an exclamation of:
"So I is--I done forgot!" followed by a loud "Here!"
Amusing and sometimes pathetic scenes between masters and servants
were of frequent occurrence. It was surprising in how short a time a
poor, crying, slovenly slave became a bright, neat, self-asserting
man.
One morning a tall, ungainly fellow, who had tramped several days to
get to us, was brought to headquarters. He looked as though he had
been driven and hunted all his life; but he was strongly built, and
his ebony countenance, though showing a good deal of anxiety,
expressed fearlessness and resolution. The officer who accompanied him
reported him sound in every way except that he stuttered badly. Before
the Colonel could speak to him, the fellow managed, with much
difficulty, to get out an earnest request that he should not be
"'jected."
"But you could not give the countersign if challenged," said the
colonel.
"Jes try me, please, mars Colonel," the poor man stuttered. He was
tried with the regular drill orders, and the proof of the man's pluck
was that, though surrounded by a crowd that laughed at his ridiculous
efforts, he made an heroic stagger at every order, and with a certain
air of dignity that had its effect. At any rate, the Colonel, pleased
with his manly bearing, told him that if he would come up the next
morning and give those orders without stuttering he should be mustered
into the service. Whether what his comrades asserted, that he spent
the night practising in the grove back of the barracks, was true or
not, it is a fact that the next morning he appeared bright and cheery,
and in a voice that resounded over the campus he repeated every order
promptly and intelligibly. He was accepted and a few days afterwards
put on guard at the foot of the hill. As he was quietly pacing up and
down his beat, a man rode up, sprang to the ground, and saying, "Look
after my horse, fellow," started to walk up the hill. He failed to
recognize in the neat, fine-looking soldier whom he had addressed his
runaway slave. But the slave knew his late master, and with the sense
of security inspired by his uniform and his loaded musket, he stepped
forward. He could now say "Halt!" without stuttering, and he said it
in a very decided tone. And then the master, looking sharply at him,
exclaimed with an oath:
"Sam, you stuttering idiot! what are you doing here?"
"Defendin' de country, mas--sa," Sam stuttered.
His master burst out laughing, and with another oath ordered Sam to
stand aside and let him pass, as he had come to take his man back
home, and intended to do it. But Sam was not alarmed. He lowered his
musket significantly, and managed to say:
"I aint nobody's slave no more, massa. I'se under the orders of de
United States Guvement, and dem orders is to let nobody parss here
what can't gib de countersign. Ef you kin do dat, you kin parss: ef
not--not!"
The master raved and stormed in vain. Sam stood firm, until the
officer of the day who, unobserved, had witnessed the scene from a
clump of trees, thought best to interfere. He escorted the irate
Marylander to the Colonel's office, but it is hardly necessary to say
he was obliged to return home alone, as he came.[2]
A very similar incident occurred shortly afterwards, which I believe
found its way into the papers: but it will bear repetition.
A new recruit, feeling to an exaggerated extent the dignity and the
importance with which his uniform invested him, and realizing also,
perhaps, the solemn obligations of his oath, was approached while on
guard by his former master, and, with the usual oaths, ordered to get
out of the way. This the sentinel declined to do, and the master began
to abuse him for "a coward," "a black scoundrel," "a sneaking thief,"
etc., etc., all of which the soldier bore unmoved. But when the white
man, still more infuriated by this indifference, damned the Union
Army and even the uniform the black man wore, the latter became
excited, and facing his angry master, said, in a very forcible manner:
"Massa, you kin 'buse dis nigger as a nigger as much as you please:
dat don't hurt nobody. But when you damn dese buttons, you damns de
goviment, sar, and dat am treason, and I'se pledged to stop it. Now
scoot!"
And he charged on the astonished master, driving him down the slope
and into the road, and kept his musket levelled at him until he saw
him get on a street-car and ride away.
After a time, curiosity brought many people from the city every
afternoon to see the troops drill, and before the end of the summer it
became the fashionable thing for ladies and gentlemen driving out to
stop below the hill on which the barracks stood and remain during the
whole parade. Many even descended from their carriages and came up the
slope to get a better view. As to the colored population, the
barracks, and all that took place there, were full of interest for
them. It seemed as though each one felt that he or she gained
something in importance by belonging to a class that was attracting so
much attention. Those especially who had sons or brothers among the
troops rose at once in their own estimation and in their social scale.
I could cite a number of amusing illustrations of this vainglorious
sentiment, but one will suffice.
The respectable matron who did my washing came to me one morning to
say that she would be obliged to give up my patronage, as her son had
just enlisted and she could not think of disgracing him by continuing
her business. Remonstrance was in vain; she retired from the suds, and
lived on her importance and, presumably, on her son's pay.
One afternoon in the early fall two ladies came to headquarters. They
were dressed in fashionable mourning, were gentle of speech and
manner, and evidently belonged to the best society. They stated that
they owned a large farm in Calvert County, had been visiting in
Philadelphia, and had just learned that two "valuable boys" belonging
to them had run away and enlisted in Baltimore. The "boys" had been
brought up in the family, had always been kindly treated, were
perfectly contented, and must have been worked upon in some subtle
manner to have been induced to leave. They felt sure that if they
could see them they could persuade them to return, as they could not
bear the thought of the hardships the "boys" must undergo in army
life.
The Colonel looked over the roll and found the names of the "boys,"
who had enlisted two weeks before. He informed the ladies that, even
if willing, these soldiers could not be remanded to slavery; but if
they would like to see them, he would send for them. The ladies
requested that this should be done, and an orderly was dispatched to
bring the fugitives.
Few worse specimens, as regarded raggedness and general evidences of
hard usage, than these two men had come up from the western shore.
When they now made their appearance in the office, tall, good-looking
fellows, in their clean uniforms and new shoes, and their countenances
beaming with satisfaction, it was no wonder that their mistresses did
not at first recognize them, and were embarrassed in addressing them.
A short conversation ensued, during which the men, though perfectly
respectful, let the ladies understand that they were neither ashamed
nor sorry for having left the old home. As the visitors, evidently
much chagrined, at last arose to go, one of them, extending her hand
to the younger one, said:
"Well, John, good-bye; I am going home to-morrow. What shall I tell
the people for you?"
"Give 'em my love, marm," said John, "an' tell em I's mighty glad I's
here, an' I wish dey was all here, too."
The other lady had taken out her pocket-book, and now said to the
other:
"And you, Will, what shall I say for you?"
"Tell 'em all, marm," he earnestly replied, "dat de Lord hab broke my
yoke an' made me free. Tell em I'se happier dan I eber 'spected to be
in dis world--an' I blesses 'em all."
"Very well," she said coldly, and dropped something into his hand.
Both ladies bowed and departed.
The man Will stood looking reflectively at what his mistress had given
him. As the door closed on her, he turned to the Colonel and, showing
a silver quarter, said:
"I'se worked fur dat woman mor'n twenty years, an' dis is de fust bit
ob money she eber gib me!"
Towards the last of September Secretary Chase, being in Baltimore, was
invited by Judge Bond to drive out to the barracks and witness the
parade of the colored troops. His appearance was a pleasant surprise
to Colonel Birney, who, up to that time, had failed to elicit from him
any expression of interest in his work; though, on account of old
friendship and political sympathies, the Secretary was the first
person from whom the Colonel had expected support. But Mr. Chase had
not as yet gone beyond the President in his views concerning the
enlistment of slaves. He, however, expressed himself greatly pleased
as well as surprised at the fine display the troops made, and the next
week he repeated his visit, accompanied by Secretary Stanton.
As it happened, one of the recruiting boats arrived that very day,
bringing over two hundred of the usual miserable crowd. Instead of
having the men among them inspected at once, the Colonel saved them
for his afternoon programme.
The expected visit of the distinguished men became known in the city,
and long before the time for parade the road in front of the barracks
was blocked with open carriages filled with ladies and gentlemen. The
two secretaries, in a landau, were so placed that they had an
uninterrupted view of everything.
The bugle sounded and the different companies, with bayonets and every
accoutrement glistening, marched in splendid order to their respective
positions. As the last company wheeled into line, and while the
spectators were enthusiastically expressing their admiration of its
soldierly bearing, the raw recruits who had arrived in the morning
filed up and, each one grasping his little bundle, were placed in line
with the others. Their tattered garments, shoeless feet, and
disreputable appearance generally, afforded a striking and painful
contrast to their uniformed brethren. The suggestiveness of the
spectacle could not but strike every beholder. Mr. Chase declared it
was the most impressive sight he had ever witnessed. Mr. Stanton
warmly congratulated Colonel Birney, and expressed his satisfaction
and his thanks that so much had been accomplished without embarrassing
him.
The vigor with which recruiting had been pushed had taken the Maryland
slave-holders by surprise. For some weeks they made no appeal to the
government. Then, recovering their self-possession, they set to work
to procure a revocation of Colonel Birney's authority.
Their first applications were made singly or by delegations to General
Schenck or, in his absence, to his Adjutant-general, Donn Piatt, both
of whom had steadily and cordially given their official aid and
support to Colonel Birney's operations, though, from the nature of his
orders, he was not subject to their command. The General, with quiet
dignity, referred the envoys to Secretary Stanton, but held out no
hope of change; but the adjutant gave them deep offence by his sturdy
patriotism, expressed with the wit and humor for which he has always
been celebrated.
Secretary Stanton was deaf to remonstrances. But it was not long
before Reverdy Johnson and Governor Swann discovered that the
President was not aware of the enlistment of slaves. Petitions,
letters of complaint, and charges against Colonel Birney were now
poured in on Mr. Lincoln. Finally, Reverdy Johnson and the Governor,
at the head of a Maryland delegation of slave-holders, called on him
and presented the grievance with all the eloquence they could command.
The President was much disturbed, and supposing General Schenck to be
the responsible party, wrote to him intimating a purpose to disavow
his acts. Thereupon the General went to Washington and, explaining his
position in the matter, protested against censure or disavowal, and
tendered his resignation as commandant in Maryland if such a step
against him was intended. Mr. Lincoln listened patiently. Then, after
a short pause, he said:
"Schenck, do you know what a _galled prairie_ is?"
The general knew every kind of prairie except that.
"The galled prairie," resumed Mr. Lincoln, "lies on the slope back
from the narrow river bottoms, and is so called because the waters
from higher levels cut gulches in it. But it is rich land. On it grow
oak trees of a peculiar species. Their wood is almost as hard as iron,
and their roots grow deep down. You can't cut them or dig them up.
Now, general, how do you suppose the farmers treat them?"
This was a poser.
"Well," said Mr. Lincoln, "they just let them alone and plough around
them."
With this the President arose and shook hands, and General Schenck
returned to Baltimore, pondering over the parable of the "galled
prairies."
Nothing further was said about censure, but Mr. Lincoln was troubled
on the score of his "pledge," and did not let the matter drop.
Colonel Birney was very busy one day issuing the final orders for
despatching three boats to a point where, from information received,
several hundred good recruits were waiting. He was interrupted by a
telegram direct from the White House, as follows:
"How many slaves have you enlisted?"
(Signed) "ABRAHAM LINCOLN."
The answer reached the President while Governor Swann and his friends
were making another call on him.
"About three thousand," it said.[3]
A short and, according to the report of the committee, a pretty sharp
discussion followed the reading of this answer, ending in the despatch
of another telegram to the colonel:
"Hold on and care for what you have; enlist no more until
further orders.
(Signed) ABRAHAM LINCOLN."
Colonel Birney's disappointment can be imagined. In another hour his
boats would have been off and out of reach of telegrams. Now, all
orders had to be countermanded and the boats tied up.
The next day the colonel went to Washington and had an interview with
Mr. Stanton, always his friend, and ready to do for him all that his
position towards the President permitted him to do.
The latter Colonel Birney did not see, but the encouragement,
protection, and aid he received from the great war secretary, with
whose patriotism mingled no selfish ambition, enabled him, after a few
weeks, to reorganize his plans and continue the work which led to
emancipation in the State of Maryland.
A new order was issued, by consent of the President, authorizing the
enlistment of slaves of rebels and of consenting loyal masters.
The final details of this novel recruiting business will be given in
another chapter.