Who can be * * * * * Loyal and neutral in a moment? No
man.----MACBETH.
Why, this it is when men are ruled by women.----RICHARD III.
It was a relief to escape the excitement and bitterness of Missouri,
and spend a few quiet days in the free States. Despite Rebel
predictions, grass did not grow in the streets of Chicago. In sooth, it
wore neither an Arcadian nor a funereal aspect. Palatial buildings were
everywhere rising; sixty railway trains arrived and departed daily;
hotels were crowded with guests; and the voice of the artisan was heard
in the land. Michigan Avenue, the finest drive in America, skirting
the lake shore for a mile and a half, was crowded every evening with
swift vehicles, and its sidewalks thronged with leisurely pedestrians.
It afforded scope to one of the two leading characteristics of
Chicago residents, which are, holding the ribbons and leaving out the
latch-string.
[Sidenote: CORN NOT COTTON IS KING.]
I did not hear a single cry of "Bread or Blood!" As the city had over
two million bushels of corn in store, and had received eighteen million
bushels of grain during the previous six months, starvation was hardly
imminent. War or peace, currency or no currency, breadstuffs will find
a market. Corn, not cotton, is king; the great Northwest, instead of
Dixie Land, wields the sceptre of imperial power.
The elasticity of the new States is wonderful. Wisconsin and Illinois
had lost about ten millions of dollars through the depreciation of
their currency within a few months. It caused embarrassment and
stringency, but no wreck or ruin.
Reminiscences of the financial chaos were entertaining. New York
exchange once reached thirty per cent. The Illinois Central Railroad
Company paid twenty-two thousand five hundred dollars _premium_ on a
single draft. For a few weeks before the crash, everybody was afraid of
the currency, and yet everybody received it. People were seized with
a sudden desire to pay up. The course of nature was reversed; debtors
absolutely pursued their creditors, and creditors dodged them as
swindlers dodge the sheriff. Parsimonious husbands supplied their wives
bounteously with means to do family shopping for months ahead. There
was a "run" upon those feminine paradises, the dry-goods stores, while
the merchants were by no means anxious to sell.
Suddenly prices went up, as if by magic. Then came a grand crisis.
Currency dropped fifty per cent., and one morning the city woke up
to find itself poorer by just half than it was the night before. The
banks, with their usual feline sagacity, alighted upon their feet,
while depositors had to stand the loss.
[Sidenote: CURIOUS REMINISCENCES OF CHICAGO.]
Persons who settled in Chicago when it was only a military post, many
hundred miles in the Indian country, relate stories of the days when
they sometimes spent three months on schooners coming from Buffalo.
Later settlers, too, offer curious reminiscences. In 1855, a merchant
purchased a tract of unimproved land near the lake, outside the city
limits, for twelve hundred dollars, one-fourth in cash. Before his
next payment, a railroad traversed one sandy worthless corner of it,
and the company paid him damages to the amount of eleven hundred
dollars. Before the end of the third year, when his last installment
of three hundred dollars became due, he sold the land to a company of
speculators for twenty-one thousand five hundred dollars. It is now
assessed at something over one hundred thousand.
[Sidenote: VISIT TO THE GRAVE OF DOUGLAS.]
On a July day, so cold that fires were comforting within doors, and
overcoats and buffalo robes requisite without, I visited the grave of
Senator Douglas, unmarked as yet by monumental stone. He rests near his
old home, and a few yards from the lake, which was sobbing and moaning
in stormy passion as the great, white-fringed waves chased each other
upon the sandy shore.
With the arrival of each railway train from the east, long files of
immigrants from Norway and northern Germany come pouring up Dearborn
street, gazing curiously and hopefully at their new Land of Promise.
One of the many railroad lines had brought twenty-five hundred within
two weeks. There were gray-haired men and young children. All were
attired neatly, especially the women, with snow-white kerchiefs about
their heads.
They were bound, mainly, for Wisconsin and Minnesota. Men and women
are the best wealth of a new country. Though nearly all poor, these
brought, with the fair hair and blue eyes of their fatherland, honesty,
frugality, and industry, as their contribution to that great crucible
which, after all its strange elements are fused, shall pour forth the
pure and shining metal of American Character.
[Sidenote: SOCIAL HABITS OF THE GERMANS.]
Missouri, at the commencement of the war, had two hundred thousand
Germans in a population of little more than one million. Almost to a
man, they were loyal, and among the first who sprang to arms.
In the South, they were always regarded with suspicion. The Rebels
succeeded in dragooning but very few of them into their ranks. Honor to
the loyal Germans!
According to some unknown philosopher, "an Englishman or a Yankee is
capital; an Irishman is labor; but a German is capital and labor both."
Cincinnati, at the outbreak of the Rebellion, contained about seventy
thousand German citizens, who for many years had contributed largely to
her growth and prosperity.
A visit to their distinctive locality, called "Over the Rhine," with
its German daily papers, German signs, and German conversation, is a
peep at Faderland.
Cincinnati is nearer than Hamburg, the Miami canal more readily crossed
than the Atlantic, and that "sweet German accent," with which General
Scott was once enraptured, is no less musical in the Queen City than
in the land of Schiller and Göethe. Why, then, should one go to
Germany, unless, indeed, like Bayard Taylor, he goes for a wife? The
multitudinous maidens--light-eyed and blonde-haired--in these German
streets, would seem to remove even that excuse.
When Young America becomes jovial, he takes four or five boon
companions to a drinking saloon, pours down half a glass of raw brandy,
and lights a cigar. Continuing this programme through the day, he
ends, perhaps, by being carried home on a shutter or conducted to the
watch-house.
But the German, at the close of the summer day, strolls with his
wife and two or three of his twelve children (the orthodox number in
well-regulated Teutonic families) to one of the great airy halls or
gardens abounding in his portion of the city. Calling for Rhein wine,
Catawba, or "_zwei glass lager bier und zwei pretzel_," they sit an
hour or two, chatting with friends, and then return to their homes like
rational beings after rational enjoyment. The halls contain hundreds
of people, who gesticulate more and talk louder during their mildest
social intercourse than the same number of Americans would in an affray
causing the murder of half the company; but the presence of women and
children guarantees decorous language and deportment.
The laws of migration are curious. One is, that people ordinarily go
due west. The Massachusetts man goes to northern Ohio, Wisconsin, or
Minnesota; the Ohioan to Kansas; the Tennesseean to southern Missouri;
the Mississippian to Texas. Great excitements, like those of Kansas
and California, draw men off their parallel of latitude; but this is
the general law. Another is, that the Irish remain near the sea-coast,
while the Germans seek the interior. They constitute four-fifths of the
foreign population of every western city.
[Sidenote: THE EARLY DAYS OF CINCINNATI.]
In 1788, a few months before the first settlement of Cincinnati,
seven hundred and forty acres of land were bought for five hundred
dollars. The tract is now the heart of the city, and appraised at
many millions. As it passed from hand to hand, colossal fortunes were
realized from it; but its original purchaser, then one of the largest
western land-owners, at his death did not leave property enough to
secure against want his surviving son. Until 1862, that son resided
in Cincinnati, a pensioner upon the bounty of relatives. As, in the
autumn of life, he walked the streets of that busy city, it must have
been a strange reflection that among all its broad acres of which his
father was sole proprietor, he did not own land enough for his last
resting-place. "Give him a little earth for charity!"
Many high artificial mounds, circular and elliptical, stood here when
the city was founded. In after years, as they were leveled, one by
one, they revealed relics of that ancient and comparatively civilized
race, which occupied this region before the Indian, and was probably
identical with the Aztecs of Mexico.
Upon the site of one of these mounds is Pike's Opera House, a gorgeous
edifice, erected at an expense of half a million of dollars, by a
Cincinnati distiller, who, fifteen years before, could not obtain
credit for his first dray-load of whisky-barrels. It is one of the
finest theaters in the world; but the site has more interest than the
building. What volumes of unwritten history has that spot witnessed,
which supports a temple of art and fashion for the men and women of
to-day, was once a post from which Indian sentinels overlooked the
"dark and bloody ground" beyond the river, and, in earlier ages, an
altar where priests of a semi-barbaric race performed mystic rites to
propitiate heathen gods!
[Sidenote: A CITY FOUNDED BY A WOMAN.]
Cincinnati was built by a woman. Its founder was neither carpenter nor
speculator, but in the legitimate feminine pursuit of winning hearts.
Seventy years ago, Columbia, North Bend, and Cincinnati--all splendid
cities on paper--were rivals, each aspiring to be the metropolis of
the West. Columbia was largest, North Bend most favorably located, and
Cincinnati least promising of all.
But an army officer, sent out to establish a military post for
protecting frontier settlers against Indians, was searching for a
site. Fascinated by the charms of a dark-eyed beauty--wife of one of
the North Bend settlers--that location impressed him favorably, and he
made it head-quarters. The husband, disliking the officer's pointed
attentions, came to Cincinnati and settled--thus, he supposed, removing
his wife from temptation.
[Sidenote: THE ASPIRATIONS OF THE CINCINNATIAN.]
But as Mark Antony threw the world away for Cleopatra's lips, this
humbler son of Mars counted the military advantages of North Bend as
nothing compared with his charmer's eyes. He promptly followed to
Cincinnati, and erected Fort Washington within the present city limits.
Proximity to a military post settled the question, as it has all
similar ones in the history of the West. Now Cincinnati is the largest
inland city upon the continent; Columbia is an insignificant village,
and North Bend an excellent farm.
In architecture, Cincinnati is superior to its western rivals, and
rapidly gaining upon the most beautiful seaboard cities. Some of its
squares are unexcelled in America. A few public buildings are imposing;
but its best structures have been erected by private enterprise. The
Cincinnatian is expansive. Narrow quarters torture him. He can live
in a cottage, but he must do business in a palace. An inferior brick
building is the specter of his life, and a freestone block his undying
ambition.
From the Queen City I went to Louisville. Though communication with
the South had been cut off by every other route, the railroad was open
thence to Nashville.
[Sidenote: TREASON AND LOYALTY IN LOUISVILLE.]
Kentucky was disputed ground. Treason and Loyalty jostled each
other in strange proximity. At the breakfast table, one looked up
from his New York paper, forty-eight hours old, to see his nearest
neighbor perusing _The Charleston Mercury_. He found _The Louisville
Courier_ urging the people to take up arms against the Government.
_The Journal_, published just across the street, advised Union men to
arm themselves, and announced that any of them wanting first-class
revolvers could learn something to their advantage by calling upon its
editor. In the telegraph-office, the loyal agent of the Associated
Press, who made up dispatches for the North, chatted with the
Secessionist, who spiced his news for the southern palate. On the
street, one heard Union men advocate the hanging of Governor Magoffin,
and declare that he and his fellow-traitors should find the collision
they threatened a bloody business. At the same moment, some inebriated
"Cavalier" reeled by, shouting uproariously "Huzza for Jeff. Davis!"
Here, a group of pale, long-haired young men was pointed out as
enlisted Rebel soldiers, just leaving for the South. There, a troop of
the sinewy, long-limbed mountaineers of Kentucky and East Tennessee,
marched sturdily toward the river, to join the loyal forces upon
the Indiana shore. Two or three State Guards (Secession), with
muskets on their shoulders, were closely followed by a trio of Home
Guards (Union), also armed. It was wonderful that, with all these
crowding combustibles, no explosion had yet occurred in the Kentucky
powder-magazine.
While Secessionists were numerous, Louisville, at heart loyal,
everywhere displayed the national flag. Yet, although the people tore
to pieces a Secession banner, which floated from a private dwelling,
they were very tolerant toward the Rebels, who openly recruited for
the Southern service. Imagine a man huzzaing for President Lincoln and
advertising a Federal recruiting-office in any city controlled by the
Confederates!
[Sidenote: PRENTICE OF THE LOUISVILLE JOURNAL.]
"The real governor of Kentucky," said a southern paper, "is not Beriah
Magoffin, but George D. Prentice." In spite of his "neutrality," which
for a time threatened to stretch out to the crack of doom, Mr. Prentice
was a thorn in the side of the enemy. His strong influence, through
_The Louisville Journal_, was felt throughout the State.
Visiting his editorial rooms, I found him over an appalling pile of
public and private documents, dictating an article for his paper. Many
years ago, an attack of paralysis nearly disabled his right hand, and
compelled him ever after to employ an amanuensis.
His small, round face was fringed with dark hair, a little silvered by
age; but his eyes gleamed with their early fire, and his conversation
scintillated with that ready wit which made him the most famous
paragraphist in the world. His manner was exceedingly quiet and modest.
For about three-fourths of the year, he was one of the hardest workers
in the country; often sitting at his table twelve hours a day, and
writing two or three columns for a morning issue.
At this time, the Kentucky Unionists, advocating only "neutrality,"
dared not urge open and uncompromising support of the Government. When
President Lincoln first called for troops, _The Journal_ denounced his
appeal in terms almost worthy of _The Charleston Mercury_, expressing
its "mingled amazement and indignation." Of course the Kentuckians were
subjected to very bitter criticism. Mr. Prentice said to me:
"You misapprehend us in the North. We are just as much for the Union as
you are. Those of us who pray, pray for it; those of us who fight, are
going to fight for it. But we know our own people. They require very
tender handling. Just trust us and let us alone, and you shall see us
come out all right by-and-by."
The State election, held a few weeks after, exposed the groundless
alarm of the leading politicians. It resulted in returning to Congress,
from every district but one, zealous Union men. Afterward the State
furnished troops whenever they were called for, and, in spite of her
timid leaders, finally yielded gracefully to the inexorable decree of
the war, touching her pet institution of Slavery.
[Sidenote: FIRST UNION TROOPS OF KENTUCKY.]
I paid a visit to the encampment of the Kentucky Union troops, on the
Indiana side of the Ohio, opposite Louisville. "Camp Joe Holt" was on
a high, grassy plateau. Unfailing springs supplied it with pure water,
and trees of beech, oak, elm, ash, maple, and sycamore, overhung it
with grateful shade. The prospective soldiers were lying about on the
ground, or reading and writing in their tents.
General Rousseau, who was sitting upon the grass, chatting with a
visitor, looked the Kentuckian. Large head, with straight, dark hair
and mustache; eye and mouth full of determination; broad chest, huge,
erect, manly frame.
His men were sinewy fellows, with serious, earnest faces. Most of them
were from the mountain districts. Many had been hunters from boyhood,
and could bring a squirrel from the tallest tree with their old rifles.
Byron's description of their ancestral backwoodsmen seemed to fit them
exactly:
"And tall and strong and swift of foot were they,
Beyond the dwarfing city's pale abortions,
Because their thoughts had never been the prey
Of care or gain; the green woods were their portions.
Simple they were, not savage; and their rifles,
Though very true, were yet not used for trifles."
The history of this brigade was characteristic of the times. Rousseau
scouted "neutrality" from the outset. On the 21st of May, he said from
his place in the Kentucky Senate:
"If we have a Government, let it be maintained and obeyed. If
a factious minority undertakes to override the will of the
majority and rob us of our constitutional rights, let it be
put down--peaceably if we can, but forcibly if we must.
* * * Let me tell you, sir, Kentucky will not 'go out!' She will
not stampede. Secessionists must invent something new, before
they can either frighten or drag her out of the Union. We
shall be but too happy to keep peace, but we cannot leave the
Union of our fathers. When Kentucky goes down, it will be in
blood! Let that be understood."
[Sidenote: STRUGGLE IN THE KENTUCKY LEGISLATURE.]
In that Legislature, the struggle between the Secessionists and the
Loyalists was fierce, protracted, and uncertain. Each day had its
accidents, incidents, telegraphic and newspaper excitements, upon which
the action of the body seemed to depend.
In firm and determined men, the two parties were about equally divided;
but there were a good many "floats," who held the balance of power.
These men were very tenderly nursed by the Loyalists.
The Secessionists frequently proposed to go into secret session, but
the Union men steadfastly refused. Rousseau declared in the Senate that
if they closed the doors he would break them open. As he stands about
six feet two, and is very muscular, the threat had some significance.
Buckner, Tighlman, and Hanson[12]--all afterward generals in the Rebel
army--led the Secessionists. They professed to be loyal, and were very
shrewd and plausible. They induced hundreds of young men to join the
State-Guard, which they were organizing to force Kentucky out of the
Union, though its ostensible object was to assure "neutrality."
[12] The leniency of the Government toward these men was remarkable.
For many months after the war began, Breckinridge, in the United
States Senate, and Burnett, in the House of Representatives, uttered
defiant treason, for which they were not only pardoned, but paid by the
Government they were attempting to overthrow. As late as August, 1861,
after Bull Run, after Wilson Creek, Buckner visited Washington, was
allowed to inspect the fortifications, and went almost directly thence
to Richmond. When he next returned to Kentucky, it was at the head of
an invading Rebel army.
[Sidenote: WHAT REBEL LEADERS PRETENDED.]
"State Rights" was their watchword. "For Kentucky neutrality," first;
and, should the conflict be forced upon them, "For the South against
the North." They worked artfully upon the southern partiality for the
doctrine that allegiance is due first to the State, and only secondly
to the National Government.
Governor Magoffin and Lieutenant-Governor Porter were bitter Rebels.
The Legislature made a heavy appropriation for arming the State,
but practically displaced the Governor, by appointing five loyal
commissioners to control the fund and its expenditure.
In Louisville, the Unionists secretly organized the "Loyal League,"
which became very large; but the Secessionists, also, were noisy and
numerous, firm and defiant.
On the 5th of June, Rousseau started for Washington, to obtain
authority to raise troops in Kentucky. At Cincinnati, he met Colonel
Thomas J. Key, then Judge-Advocate of Ohio, on duty with General
McClellan. Key was alarmed, and asked if it were not better to keep
Kentucky in the Union by voting, than by fighting. Rousseau replied:
"As fast as we take one vote, and settle the matter, another, in some
form, is proposed. While we are voting, the traitors are enlisting
soldiers, preparing to throttle Kentucky and precipitate her into
Revolution as they have the other southern States. It is our duty to
see that we are not left powerless at the mercy of those who will
butcher us whenever they can."
[Sidenote: ROUSSEAU'S VISIT TO WASHINGTON.]
Key declared that he would ruin every thing by his rashness. By
invitation, Rousseau called on the commander of the Western Department.
During the conversation, McClellan remarked that Buckner had spent the
previous night with him. Rousseau replied that Buckner was a hypocrite
and traitor. McClellan rejoined that he thought him an honorable
gentleman. They had served in Mexico together, and were old personal
friends.
He added: "But I did draw him over the coals for saying he would not
only drive the Rebels out of Kentucky, but also the Federal troops."
"Well, sir," said Rousseau, "it would once have been considered pretty
nearly treason for a citizen to fight the United States army and levy
war against the National Government!"
When Rousseau reached Washington, he found that Colonel Key, who had
frankly announced his determination to oppose his project, was already
there. He had an interview with the President, General Cameron, and Mr.
Seward. The weather was very hot, and Cameron sat with his coat off
during the conversation.
As usual, before proceeding to business, Mr. Lincoln had his "little
story" to enjoy. He shook hands cordially with his visitor, and asked,
in great glee:
"Rousseau, where did you get that joke about Senator Johnson?"
"The joke, Mr. President, was too good to keep. Johnson told it
himself."
It was this: Dr. John M. Johnson, senator from Paducah, wrote to
Mr. Lincoln a rhetorical document, in the usual style of the Rebels.
In behalf of the sovereign State, he entered his solemn and emphatic
protest against the planting of cannon at Cairo, declaring that the
guns actually pointed in the direction of the sacred soil of Kentucky!
[Sidenote: HIS INTERVIEW WITH PRESIDENT LINCOLN.]
In an exquisitely pithy autograph letter, Mr. Lincoln replied, if he
had known earlier that Cairo, Illinois, was in Dr. Johnson's Kentucky
Senatorial District, he certainly should not have established either
the guns or the troops there! Singularly enough--for a keen sense of
humor was very rare among our "erring brethren"--Johnson appreciated
the joke.
While Rousseau was urging the necessity of enlisting troops, he
remarked:
"I have half pretended to submit to Kentucky neutrality, but, in
discussing the matter before the people, while apparently standing upon
the line, I have almost always _poked_."
This word was not in the Cabinet vocabulary. General Cameron looked
inquiringly at Mr. Lincoln, who was supposed to be familiar with the
dialect of his native State.
"General," asked the President, "you don't know what 'poke' means? Why,
when you play marbles, you are required to shoot from a mark on the
ground; and when you reach over with your hand, beyond the line, that
is _poking!_"
Cameron favored enlistments in Kentucky, without delay. Mr. Lincoln
replied:
"General, don't be too hasty; you know we have seen another man to-day,
and we should act with caution." Rousseau explained:
"The masses in Kentucky are loyal. I can get as many soldiers as are
wanted; but if the Rebels raise troops, while we do not, our young men
will go into their army, taking the sympathies of kindred and friends,
and may finally cause the State to secede. It is of vital importance
that we give loyal direction to the sentiment of our people."
At the next interview, the President showed him this indorsement on the
back of one of his papers:
"When Judge Pirtle, James Guthrie, George D. Prentice,
Harney, the Speeds, and the Ballards shall think it proper
to raise troops for the United States service in Kentucky,
Lovell H. Rousseau is authorized to do so."
"How will that do, Rousseau?"
"Those are good men, Mr. President, loyal men; but perhaps some of the
rest of us, who were born and reared in Kentucky, are just as good
Union men as they are, and know just as much about the State. If you
want troops, I can raise them, and I will raise them. If you do not
want them, or do not want to give me the authority, why that ends the
matter."
Finally, through the assistance of Mr. Chase, who steadfastly favored
the project, and of Secretary Cameron, the authority was given.
[Sidenote: TIMIDITY OF KENTUCKY UNIONISTS.]
A few Kentucky Loyalists were firm and outspoken. But General Leslie
Coombs was a good specimen of the whole. When asked for a letter to Mr.
Lincoln, he wrote: "Rousseau is loyal and brave, but a little too much
for coercion for these parts."
After Rousseau returned, with permission to raise twenty companies,
_The Louisville Courier_, whose veneer of loyalty was very thin,
denounced the effort bitterly. Even _The Louisville Journal_ derided it
until half a regiment was in camp.
[Sidenote: LOYALTY OF JUDGE LUSK.]
A meeting of leading Loyalists of the State was held in Louisville,
at the office of James Speed, since Attorney General of the United
States. Garrett Davis, Bramlette, Boyle, and most of the Louisville
men, were against the project. They feared it would give the State to
the Secessionists at the approaching election. Speed and the Ballards
were for it. So was Samuel Lusk, an old judge from Garrard County, who
sat quietly as long as he could during the discussion, then jumped up,
and bringing his hand heavily down on the table, exclaimed:
"Can't have two regiments for the old flag! By---! sir, he shall have
thirty!"
A resolution was finally adopted that, when the time came, they all
wished Rousseau to raise and command the troops, but that, for the
present, it would be impolitic and improper to commence enlisting in
Kentucky.
Greatly against his own will, and declaring that he never was so
humiliated in his life, Rousseau established his camp on the Indiana
shore. After the election, some Secession sympathizers, learning
that he proposed to bring his men over to Louisville, protested very
earnestly, begging him to desist, and thus avoid bloodshed, which they
declared certain.
"Gentlemen," said he, "my men, like yourselves, are Kentuckians. I
am a Kentuckian. Our homes are on Kentucky soil. We have organized
in defense of our common country; and bloodshed is just the business
we are drilling for. If anybody in the city of Louisville thinks it
judicious to begin it when we arrive, I tell you, before God, you shall
all have enough of it before you get through!"
The next day he marched his brigade unmolested through the city.
Afterward, upon many battle-fields, its honorable fame and Rousseau's
two stars were fairly won and worthily worn.