Fortress Monroe--General Butler--Hospital accommodation--Wounded
soldiers--Aristocratic pedigrees--A great gun--Newport
News--Fraudulent contractors--General Butler--Artillery
practice--Contraband negroes--Confederate lines--Tombs of
American loyalists--Troops and contractors--Durevy’s New York
Zouaves--Military calculations--A voyage by steamer to Annapolis.
_July 14th._--At six o’clock this morning the steamer arrived at the
wharf under the walls of Fortress Monroe, which presented a very
different appearance from the quiet of its aspect when first I saw
it, some months ago. Camps spread around it, the parapets lined with
sentries, guns looking out towards the land, lighters and steamers
alongside the wharf, a strong guard at the end of the pier, passes
to be scrutinised and permits to be given. I landed with the members
of the Sanitary Commission, and repaired to a very large pile of
buildings, called “The Hygeia Hotel,” for once on a time Fortress
Monroe was looked upon as the resort of the sickly, who required
bracing air and an abundance of oysters; it is now occupied by the
wounded in the several actions and skirmishes which have taken place,
particularly at Bethel; and it is so densely crowded that we had
difficulty in procuring the use of some small dirty rooms to dress
in. As the business of the Commission was principally directed to
ascertain the state of the hospitals, they considered it necessary
in the first instance to visit General Butler, the commander of the
post, who has been recommending himself to the Federal Government by
his activity ever since he came down to Baltimore, and the whole body
marched to the fort, crossing the drawbridge after some parley with
the guard, and received permission, on the production of passes, to
enter the court.
The interior of the work covers a space of about seven or eight
acres, as far as I could judge, and is laid out with some degree
of taste; rows of fine trees border the walks through the grass
plots; the officers’ quarters, neat and snug, are surrounded with
little patches of flowers, and covered with creepers. All order and
neatness, however, were fast disappearing beneath the tramp of mailed
feet, for at least 1200 men had pitched their tents inside the place.
We sent in our names to the General, who lives in a detached house
close to the sea face of the fort, and sat down on a bench under
the shade of some trees, to avoid the excessive heat of the sun
until the commander of the place could receive the Commissioners. He
was evidently in no great hurry to do so. In about half an hour an
aide-de-camp came out to say that the General was getting up, and
that he would see us after breakfast. Some of the Commissioners, from
purely sanitary considerations, would have been much better pleased
to have seen him at breakfast, as they had only partaken of a very
light meal on board the steamer at five o’clock in the morning; but
we were interested meantime by the morning parade of a portion of
the garrison, consisting of 300 regulars, a Massachusetts’ volunteer
battalion, and the 2nd New York Regiment.
It was quite refreshing to the eye to see the cleanliness of the
regulars--their white gloves and belts, and polished buttons,
contrasted with the slovenly aspect of the volunteers; but, as far
as the material went, the volunteers had by far the best of the
comparison. The civilians who were with me did not pay much attention
to the regulars, and evidently preferred the volunteers, although
they could not be insensible to the magnificent drum-major who led
the band of the regulars. Presently General Butler came out of his
quarters, and walked down the lines, followed by a few officers. He
is a stout, middle-aged man, strongly built, with coarse limbs, his
features indicative of great shrewdness and craft, his forehead high,
the elevation being in some degree due perhaps to the want of hair;
with a strong obliquity of vision, which may perhaps have been caused
by an injury, as the eyelid hangs with a peculiar droop over the
organ.
The General, whose manner is quick, decided, and abrupt, but not at
all rude or unpleasant, at once acceded to the wishes of the Sanitary
Commissioners, and expressed his desire to make my stay at the
fort as agreeable and useful as he could. “You can first visit the
hospitals in company with these gentlemen, and then come over with
me to our camp, where I will show you everything that is to be seen.
I have ordered a steamer to be in readiness to take you to Newport
News.” He speaks rapidly, and either affects or possesses great
decision. The Commissioners accordingly proceeded to make the most
of their time in visiting the Hygeia Hotel, being accompanied by the
medical officers of the garrison.
The rooms, but a short time ago occupied by the fair ladies of
Virginia, when they came down to enjoy the sea breezes, were now
crowded with Federal soldiers, many of them suffering from the
loss of limb or serious wounds, others from the worst form of camp
disease. I enjoyed a small national triumph over Dr. Bellows, the
chief of the Commissioners, who is of the “sangre azul” of Yankeeism,
by which I mean that he is a believer, not in the perfectibility,
but in the absolute perfection, of New England nature, which is the
only human nature that is not utterly lost and abandoned--Old England
nature, perhaps, being the worst of all. We had been speaking to the
wounded men in several rooms, and found most of them either in the
listless condition consequent upon exhaustion, or with that anxious
air which is often observable on the faces of the wounded when
strangers approach. At last we came into a room in which two soldiers
were sitting up, the first we had seen, reading the newspapers. Dr.
Bellows asked where they came from; one was from Concord, the other
from Newhaven. “You see, Mr. Russell,” said Dr. Bellows, “how our
Yankee soldiers spend their time. I knew at once they were Americans
when I saw them reading newspapers.” One of them had his hand
shattered by a bullet, the other was suffering from a gun-shot wound
through the body. “Where were you hit?” I inquired of the first.
“Well,” he said, “I guess my rifle went off when I was cleaning it
in camp.” “Were you wounded at Bethel?” I asked of the second. “No,
sir,” he replied; “I got this wound from a comrade, who discharged
his piece by accident in one of the tents as I was standing
outside.” “So,” said I, to Dr. Bellows, “whilst the Britishers and
Germans are engaged with the enemy, you Americans employ your time
shooting each other!”
These men were true mercenaries, for they were fighting for money--I
mean the strangers. One poor fellow from Devonshire said, as he
pointed to his stump, “I wish I had lost it for the sake of the old
island, sir,” paraphrasing Sarsfield’s exclamation as he lay dying on
the field. The Americans were fighting for the combined excellences
and strength of the States of New England, and of the rest of the
Federal power over the Confederates, for they could not in their
heart of hearts believe the Old Union could be restored by force of
arms. Lovers may quarrel and may reunite, but if a blow is struck
there is no _redintegratio amoris_ possible again. The newspapers and
illustrated periodicals which they read were the pabulum that fed the
flames of patriotism incessantly. Such capacity for enormous lying,
both in creation and absorption, the world never heard. Sufficient
for the hour is the falsehood.
There were lady nurses in attendance on the patients; who
followed--let us believe, as I do, out of some higher motive than
the mere desire of human praise--the example of Miss Nightingale.
I loitered behind in the rooms, asking many questions respecting
the nationality of the men, in which the members of the Sanitary
Commission took no interest, and I was just turning into one near the
corner of the passage when I was stopped by a loud smack. A young
Scotchman was dividing his attention between a basin of soup and a
demure young lady from Philadelphia, who was feeding him with a
spoon, his only arm being engaged in holding her round the waist, in
order to prevent her being tired, I presume. Miss Rachel, or Deborah,
had a pair of very pretty blue eyes, but they flashed very angrily
from under her trim little cap at the unwitting intruder, and then
she said, in severest tones, “Will you take your medicine, or not?”
Sandy smiled, and pretended to be very penitent.
When we returned with the doctors from our inspection we walked round
the parapets of the fortress, why so called I know not, because it
is merely a fort. The guns and mortars are old-fashioned and heavy,
with the exception of some new-fashioned and very heavy Columbiads,
which are cast-iron 8-, 10-, and 12-inch guns, in which I have no
faith whatever. The armament is not sufficiently powerful to prevent
its interior being searched out by the long range fire of ships with
rifle guns, or mortar boats; but it would require closer and harder
work to breach the masses of brick and masonry which constitute the
parapets and casemates. The guns, carriages, rammers, shot, were
dirty, rusty, and neglected; but General Butler told me he was busy
polishing up things about the fortress as fast as he could.
Whilst we were parading these hot walls in the sunshine, my
companions were discussing the question of ancestry. It appears your
New Englander is very proud of his English descent from good blood,
and it is one of their isms in the Yankee States that they are the
salt of the British people and the true aristocracy of blood and
family, whereas we in the isles retain but a paltry share of the
blue blood defiled by incessant infiltrations of the muddy fluid
of the outer world. This may be new to us Britishers, but is a Q.
E. D. If a gentleman left Europe 200 years ago, and settled with
his kin and kith, intermarrying his children with their equals,
and thus perpetuating an ancient family, it is evident he may be
regarded as the founder of a much more honourable dynasty than the
relative who remained behind him, and lost the old family place,
and sunk into obscurity. A singular illustration of the tendency to
make much of themselves may be found in the fact, that New England
swarms with genealogical societies and bodies of antiquaries, who
delight in reading papers about each other’s ancestors, and tracing
their descent from Norman or Saxon barons and earls. The Virginians
opposite, who are flouting us with their Confederate flag from
Sewall’s Point, are equally given to the “genus et proavos.”
At the end of our promenade round the ramparts, Lieutenant Butler,
the General’s nephew and aide-de-camp, came to tell us the boat was
ready, and we met His Excellency in the court-yard, whence we walked
down to the wharf. On our way, General Butler called my attention
to an enormous heap of hollow iron lying on the sand, which was the
Union gun that is intended to throw a shot of some 350 lbs. weight or
more, to astonish the Confederates at Sewall’s Point opposite, when
it is mounted. This gun, if I mistake not, was made after the designs
of Captain Rodman, of the United States artillery, who in a series
of remarkable papers, the publication of which has cost the country
a large sum of money, has given us the results of long-continued
investigations and experiments on the best method of cooling masses
of iron for ordnance purposes, and of making powder for heavy shot.
The piece must weigh about 20 tons, but a similar gun, mounted on an
artificial island called the Rip Raps, in the Channel opposite the
fortress, is said to be worked with facility. The Confederates have
raised some of the vessels sunk by the United States officers when
the Navy Yard at Gosport was destroyed, and as some of these are to
be converted into rams, the Federals are preparing their heaviest
ordnance, to try the effect of crushing weights at low velocities
against their sides, should they attempt to play any pranks among
the transport vessels. The General said: “It is not by these great
masses of iron this contest is to be decided: we must bring sharp
points of steel, directed by superior intelligence.” Hitherto General
Butler’s attempts at Big Bethel have not been crowned with success
in employing such means, but it must be admitted that, according
to his own statement, his lieutenants were guilty of carelessness
and neglect of ordinary military precautions in the conduct of the
expedition he ordered. The march of different columns of troops by
night concentrating on a given point is always liable to serious
interruptions, and frequently gives rise to hostile encounters
between friends, in more disciplined armies than the raw levies of
United States volunteers.
When the General, Commissioners, and Staff had embarked, the steamer
moved across the broad estuary to Newport News. Among our passengers
were several medical officers in attendance on the Sanitary
Commissioners, some belonging to the army, others who had volunteered
from civil life. Their discussion of professional questions and of
relative rank assumed such a personal character, that General Butler
had to interfere to quiet the disputants, but the exertion of
his authority was not altogether successful, and one of the angry
gentlemen said in my hearing, “I’m d--d if I submit to such treatment
if all the lawyers in Massachusetts with stars on their collars were
to order me to-morrow.”
On arriving at the low shore of Newport News we landed at a wooden
jetty, and proceeded to visit the camp of the Federals, which was
surrounded by a strong entrenchment, mounted with guns on the water
face; and on the angles inland, a broad tract of cultivated country,
bounded by a belt of trees, extended from the river away from the
encampment; but the Confederates are so close at hand that frequent
skirmishes have occurred between the foraging parties of the garrison
and the enemy, who have on more than one occasion pursued the
Federals to the very verge of the woods.
Whilst the Sanitary Commissioners were groaning over the heaps of
filth which abound in all camps where discipline is not most strictly
observed, I walked round amongst the tents, which, taken altogether,
were in good order. The day was excessively hot, and many of the
soldiers were laying down in the shade of arbours formed of branches
from the neighbouring pine wood, but most of them got up when they
heard the General was coming round. A sentry walked up and down at
the end of the street, and as the General came up to him he called
out “Halt.” The man stood still. “I just want to show you, sir, what
scoundrels our Government has to deal with. This man belongs to a
regiment which has had new clothing recently served out to it. Look
what it is made of.” So saying the General stuck his fore-finger into
the breast of the man’s coat, and with a rapid scratch of his nail
tore open the cloth as if it was of blotting paper. “Shoddy sir.
Nothing but shoddy. I wish I had these contractors in the trenches
here, and if hard work would not make honest men of them, they’d have
enough of it to be examples for the rest of their fellows.”
A vivacious prying man, this Butler, full of bustling life,
self-esteem, revelling in the exercise of power. In the course of
our rounds we were joined by Colonel Phelps, who was formerly in the
United States army, and saw service in Mexico, but retired because
he did not approve of the manner in which promotions were made, and
who only took command of a Massachusetts regiment because he believed
he might be instrumental in striking a shrewd blow or two in this
great battle of Armageddon--a tall, saturnine, gloomy, angry-eyed,
sallow man, soldier-like too, and one who places old John Brown
on a level with the great martyrs of the Christian world. Indeed
one, not so fierce as he, is blasphemous enough to place images of
our Saviour and the hero of Harper’s Ferry on the mantelpiece, as
the two greatest beings the world has ever seen. “Yes, I know them
well. I’ve seen them in the field. I’ve sat with them at meals. I’ve
travelled through their country. These Southern slaveholders are a
false, licentious, godless people. Either we who obey the laws and
fear God, or they who know no God except their own will and pleasure,
and know no law except their passions, must rule on this continent,
and I believe that Heaven will help its own in the conflict they
have provoked. I grant you they are brave enough, and desperate too,
but surely justice, truth, and religion, will strengthen a man’s
arm to strike down those who have only brute force and a bad cause
to support them.” But Colonel Phelps was not quite indifferent to
material aid, and he made a pressing appeal to General Butler to
send him some more guns and harness for the field-pieces he had in
position, because, said he, “in case of attack, please God I’ll
follow them up sharp, and cover these fields with their bones.” The
General had a difficulty about the harness, which made Colonel Phelps
very grim, but General Butler had reason in saying he could not make
harness, and so the Colonel must be content with the results of a
good rattling fire of round, shell, grape, and cannister, if the
Confederates are foolish enough to attack his batteries.
There was nothing to complain of in the camp, except the swarms
of flies, the very bad smells, and perhaps the shabby clothing of
the men. The tents were good enough. The rations were ample, but
nevertheless there was a want of order, discipline, and quiet in
the lines which did not augur well for the internal economy of
the regiments. When we returned to the river face, General Butler
ordered some practice to be made with a Sawyer rifle gun, which
appeared to be an ordinary cast-iron piece, bored with grooves, on
the shunt principle, the shot being covered with a composition of
a metallic amalgam like zinc and tin, and provided with flanges of
the same material to fit the grooves. The practice was irregular and
unsatisfactory. At an elevation of 24 degrees, the first shot struck
the water at a point about 2000 yards distant. The piece was then
further elevated, and the shot struck quite out of land, close to
the opposite bank, at a distance of nearly three miles. The third
shot rushed with a peculiar hurtling noise out of the piece, and
flew up in the air, falling with a splash into the water about 1500
yards away. The next shot may have gone half across the continent,
for assuredly it never struck the water, and most probably ploughed
its way into the soft ground at the other side of the river. The
shell practice was still worse, and on the whole I wish our enemies
may always fight us with Sawyer guns, particularly as the shells cost
between £6 and £7 a-piece.
From the fort the General proceeded to the house of one of the
officers, near the jetty, formerly the residence of a Virginian
farmer, who has now gone to Secessia, where we were most hospitably
treated at an excellent lunch, served by the slaves of the former
proprietor. Although we boast with some reason of the easy level
of our mess-rooms, the Americans certainly excel us in the art of
annihilating all military distinctions on such occasions as these;
and I am not sure the General would not have liked to place a young
Doctor in close arrest, who suddenly made a dash at the liver wing of
a fowl on which the General was bent with eye and fork, and carried
it off to his plate. But on the whole there was a good deal of
friendly feeling amongst all ranks of the volunteers, the regulars
being a little stiff and adherent to etiquette.
In the afternoon the boat returned to Fortress Monroe, and the
general invited me to dinner, where I had the pleasure of meeting
Mrs. Butler, his staff, and a couple of regimental officers from the
neighbouring camp. As it was still early, General Butler proposed a
ride to visit the interesting village of Hampton, which lies some
six or seven miles outside the fort, and forms his advance post. A
powerful charger, with a tremendous Mexican saddle, fine housings,
blue and gold embroidered saddle-cloth, was brought to the door for
your humble servant, and the General mounted another, which did equal
credit to his taste in horseflesh; but I own I felt rather uneasy on
seeing that he wore a pair of large brass spurs, strapped over white
jean brodequins. He took with him his aide-de-camp and a couple of
orderlies. In the precincts of the fort outside, a population of
contraband negroes has been collected, whom the General employs in
various works about the place, military and civil; but I failed to
ascertain that the original scheme of a debit and credit account
between the value of their labour and the cost of their maintenance
had been successfully carried out. The General was proud of them,
and they seemed proud of themselves, saluting him with a ludicrous
mixture of awe and familiarity as he rode past. “How do, Massa
Butler? How do, General?” accompanied by absurd bows and scrapes.
“Just to think,” said the General, “that every one of these fellows
represents some 1000 dollars at least out of the pockets of the
chivalry yonder.” “Nasty, idle, dirty beasts,” says one of the staff,
_sotto voce_; “I wish to Heaven they were all at the bottom of the
Chesapeake. The General insists on it that they do work, but they are
far more trouble than they are worth.”
The road towards Hampton traverses a sandy spit, which, however, is
more fertile than would be supposed from the soil under the horses’
hoofs, though it is not in the least degree interesting. A broad
creek or river interposed between us and the town, the bridge over
which had been destroyed. Workmen were busy repairing it, but all the
planks had not yet been laid down or nailed, and in some places the
open space between the upright rafters allowed us to see the dark
waters flowing beneath. The Aide said, “I don’t think, General, it is
safe to cross;” but his chief did not mind him until his horse very
nearly crashed through a plank, and only regained its footing with
unbroken legs by marvellous dexterity; whereupon we dismounted, and,
leaving the horses to be carried over in the ferry-boat, completed
the rest of the transit, not without difficulty. At the other end of
the bridge a street lined with comfortable houses, and bordered with
trees, led us into the pleasant town or village of Hampton--pleasant
once, but now deserted by all the inhabitants except some pauperised
whites and a colony of negroes. It was in full occupation of the
Federal soldiers, and I observed that most of the men were Germans,
the garrison at Newport News being principally composed of Americans.
The old red brick houses, with cornices of white stone; the narrow
windows and high gables; gave an aspect of antiquity and European
comfort to the place, the like of which I have not yet seen in the
States. Most of the shops were closed; in some the shutters were
still down, and the goods remained displayed in the windows. “I have
allowed no plundering,” said the General; “and if I find a fellow
trying to do it, I will hang him as sure as my name is Butler. See
here,” and as he spoke he walked into a large woollen-draper’s shop,
where bales of cloth were still lying on the shelves, and many
articles such as are found in a large general store in a country
town were disposed on the floor or counters; “they shall not accuse
the men under my command of being robbers.” The boast, however, was
not so well justified in a visit to another house occupied by some
soldiers. “Well,” said the General, with a smile, “I daresay you
know enough of camps to have found out that chairs and tables are
irresistible; the men will take them off to their tents, though they
may have to leave them next morning.”
The principal object of our visit was the fortified trench which
has been raised outside the town towards the Confederate lines.
The path lay through a churchyard filled with most interesting
monuments. The sacred edifice of red brick, with a square clock
tower rent by lightning, is rendered interesting by the fact that
it is almost the first church built by the English colonists of
Virginia. On the tombstones are recorded the names of many subjects
of his Majesty George III., and familiar names of persons born in
the early part of last century in English villages, who passed to
their rest before the great rebellion of the Colonies had disturbed
their notions of loyalty and respect to the Crown. Many a British
subject, too, lies there, whose latter days must have been troubled
by the strange scenes of the war of independence. With what doubt
and distrust must that one at whose tomb I stand have heard that
George Washington was making head against the troops of His Majesty
King George III.! How the hearts of the old men who had passed the
best years of their existence, as these stones tell us, fighting for
His Majesty against the French, must have beaten when once more they
heard the roar of the Frenchman’s ordnance uniting with the voices
of the rebellious guns of the colonists from the plains of Yorktown
against the entrenchments in which Cornwallis and his deserted band
stood at hopeless bay! But could these old eyes open again, and see
General Butler standing on the eastern rampart which bounds their
resting-place, and pointing to the spot whence the rebel cavalry
of Virginia issue night and day to charge the loyal pickets of His
Majesty The Union, they might take some comfort in the fulfilment of
the vaticinations which no doubt they uttered, “It cannot, and it
will not, come to good.”
Having inspected the works--as far as I could judge, too extended,
and badly traced--which I say with all deference to the able young
engineer who accompanied us to point out the various objects of
interest--the General returned to the bridge, where we remounted, and
made a tour of the camps of the force intended to defend Hampton,
falling back on Fortress Monroe in case of necessity. Whilst he was
riding _ventre à terre_, which seems to be his favourite pace, his
horse stumbled in the dusty road, and in his effort to keep his
seat the General broke his stirrup leather, and the ponderous brass
stirrup fell to the ground; but, albeit a lawyer, he neither lost his
seat nor his _sang froid_, and calling out to his orderly “to pick
up his toe plate,” the jean slippers were closely pressed, spurs and
all, to the sides of his steed, and away we went once more through
dust and heat so great I was by no means sorry when he pulled up
outside a pretty villa, standing in a garden, which was occupied by
Colonel Max Webber, of the German Turner Regiment, once the property
of General Tyler. The camp of the Turners, who are members of various
gymnastic societies, was situated close at hand; but I had no
opportunity of seeing them at work, as the Colonel insisted on our
partaking of the hospitalities of his little mess, and produced some
bottles of sparkling hock and a block of ice, by no means unwelcome
after our fatiguing ride. His Major, whose name I have unfortunately
forgotten, and who spoke English better than his chief, had served
in some capacity or other in the Crimea, and made many inquiries
after the officers of the Guards whom he had known there. I took an
opportunity of asking him in what state the troops were. “The whole
thing is a robbery,” he exclaimed; “this war is for the contractors;
the men do not get a third of what the Government pay for them; as
for discipline, my God! it exists not. We Germans are well enough, of
course; we know our affair; but as for the Americans, what would you?
They make colonels out of doctors and lawyers, and captains out of
fellows who are not fit to brush a soldier’s shoe.” “But the men get
their pay?” “Yes; that is so. At the end of two months, they get it,
and by that time it is due to sutlers, who charge them 100 per cent.”
It is easy to believe these old soldiers do not put much confidence
in General Butler, though they admit his energy. “Look you; one
good officer with 5000 steady troops, such as we have in Europe,
shall come down any night and walk over us all into Fortress Monroe
whenever he pleased, if he knew how these troops were placed.”
On leaving the German Turners, the General visited the camp of
Duryea’s New York Zouaves, who were turned out at evening parade,
or more properly speaking, drill. But for the ridiculous effect of
their costume the regiment would have looked well enough; but riding
down on the rear of the ranks the discoloured napkins tied round
their heads, without any fez cap beneath, so that the hair sometimes
stuck up through the folds, the ill-made jackets, the loose bags
of red calico hanging from their loins, the long gaiters of white
cotton--instead of the real Zouave yellow and black greave, and smart
white gaiter--made them appear such military scarecrows, I could
scarcely refrain from laughing outright. Nevertheless the men were
respectably drilled, marched steadily in columns of company, wheeled
into line, and went past at quarter distance at the double much
better than could be expected from the short time they had been in
the field, and I could with all sincerity say to Col. Duryea, a smart
and not unpretentious gentleman, who asked my opinion so pointedly
that I could not refuse to give it, that I considered the appearance
of the regiment very creditable. The shades of evening were now
falling, and as I had been up before 5 o’clock in the morning, I was
not sorry when General Butler said, “Now we will go home to tea, or
you will detain the steamer.” He had arranged before I started that
the vessel, which in ordinary course would have returned to Baltimore
at 8 o’clock, should remain till he sent down word to the captain to
go.
We scampered back to the fort, and judging from the challenges and
vigilance of the sentries, and inlying pickets, I am not quite so
satisfied as the Major that the enemy could have surprised the place.
At the tea-table there were no additions to the General’s family; he
therefore spoke without any reserve. Going over the map, he explained
his views in reference to future operations, and showed cause, with
more military acumen than I could have expected from a gentleman of
the long robe, why he believed Fortress Monroe was the true base of
operations against Richmond.
I have been convinced for some time, that if a sufficient force
could be left to cover Washington, the Federals should move against
Richmond from the Peninsula, where they could form their depôts at
leisure, and advance, protected by their gunboats, on a very short
line which offers far greater facilities and advantages than the
inland route from Alexandria to Richmond, which, difficult in itself
from the nature of the country, is exposed to the action of a hostile
population, and, above all, to the danger of constant attacks by the
enemies’ cavalry, tending more or less to destroy all communication
with the base of the Federal operations.
The threat of seizing Washington led to a concentration of the Union
troops in front of it, which caused in turn the collection of the
Confederates on the lines below to defend Richmond. It is plain that
if the Federals can cover Washington, and at the same time assemble a
force at Monroe strong enough to march on Richmond, as they desire,
the Confederates will be placed in an exceedingly hazardous position,
scarcely possible to escape from; and there is no reason why the
North, with their overwhelming preponderance, should not do so,
unless they be carried away by the fatal spirit of brag and bluster
which comes from their press to overrate their own strength and to
despise their enemy’s. The occupation of Suffolk will be seen, by any
one who studies the map, to afford a most powerful leverage to the
Federal forces from Monroe in their attempts to turn the enemy out of
their camps of communication, and to enable them to menace Richmond
as well as the Southern States most seriously.
But whilst the General and I are engaged over our maps and mint
juleps, time flies, and at last I perceive by the clock that it is
time to go. An aide is sent to stop the boat, but he returns ere
I leave with the news that “She is gone.” Whereupon the General
sends for the Quartermaster Talmadge, who is out in the camps, and
only arrives in time to receive a severe “wigging.” It so happened
that I had important papers to send off by the next mail from New
York, and the only chance of being able to do so depended on my
being in Baltimore next day. General Butler acted with kindness and
promptitude in the matter. “I promised you should go by the steamer,
but the captain has gone off without orders or leave, for which he
shall answer when I see him. Meantime it is my business to keep my
promise. Captain Talmadge, you will at once go down and give orders
to the most suitable transport steamer or chartered vessel available,
to get up steam at once and come up to the wharf for Mr. Russell.”
Whilst I was sitting in the parlour which served as the General’s
office, there came in a pale, bright-eyed, slim young man in a
subaltern’s uniform, who sought a private audience, and unfolded a
plan he had formed, on certain data gained by nocturnal expeditions,
to surprise a body of the enemy’s cavalry which was in the habit of
coming down every night and disturbing the pickets at Hampton. His
manner was so eager, his information so precise, that the General
could not refuse his sanction, but he gave it in a characteristic
manner. “Well, sir, I understand your proposition. You intend to go
out as a volunteer to effect this service. You ask my permission to
get men for it. I cannot grant you an order to any of the officers in
command of regiments to provide you with these; but if the Colonel of
your regiment wishes to give leave to his men to volunteer, and they
like to go with you, I give you leave to take them. I wash my hands
of all responsibility in the affair.” The officer bowed and retired,
saying, “That is quite enough, General.”[2]
At 10 o’clock the Quartermaster came back to say that a screw
steamer called the Elizabeth was getting up steam for my reception,
and I bade good-by to the General, and walked down with his aide
and nephew, Lieutenant Butler, to the Hygeia Hotel to get my light
knapsack. It was a lovely moonlight night, and as I was passing down
an avenue of trees an officer stopped me, and exclaimed, “General
Butler, I hear you have given leave to Lieutenant Blank to take a
party of my regiment and go off scouting to-night after the enemy.
It is too hard that--” What more he was going to say I know not, for
I corrected the mistake, and the officer walked hastily on towards
the General’s quarters. On reaching the Hygeia Hotel I was met by the
correspondent of a New York paper, who as commissary-general, or,
as they are styled in the States, officer of subsistence, had been
charged to get the boat ready, and who explained to me it would be at
least an hour before the steam was up; and whilst I was waiting in
the porch I heard many Virginian, and old world stories as well, the
general upshot of which was that all the rest of the world could be
“done” at cards, in love, in drink, in horseflesh, and in fighting,
by the true-born American. Gen. Butler came down after a time, and
joined our little society, nor was he by any means the least shrewd
and humorous _raconteur_ of the party. At 11 o’clock the Elizabeth
uttered some piercing cries, which indicated she had her steam up;
and so I walked down to the jetty, accompanied by my host and his
friends, and wishing them good bye, stepped on board the little
vessel, and with the aid of the negro cook, steward, butler, boots,
and servant, roused out the captain from a small wooden trench which
he claimed as his berth, turned into it, and fell asleep just as the
first difficult convulsions of the screw aroused the steamer from her
coma, and forced her languidly against the tide in the direction of
Baltimore.
_July 15th._--I need not speak much of the events of last night,
which were not unimportant, perhaps, to some of the insects which
played a leading part in them. The heat was literally overpowering;
for in addition to the hot night there was the full power of
most irritable boilers close at hand to aggravate the natural
_désagrémens_ of the situation. About an hour after dawn, when I
turned out on deck, there was nothing visible but a warm grey mist;
but a knotty old pilot on deck told me we were only going six knots
an hour against tide and wind, and that we were likely to make less
way as the day wore on. In fact, instead of being near Baltimore,
we were much nearer Fortress Monroe. Need I repeat the horrors of
this day? Stewed, boiled, baked, and grilled on board this miserable
Elizabeth, I wished M. Montalembert could have experienced with me
what such an impassive nature could inflict in misery on those around
it. The captain was a shy, silent man, much given to short naps in
my temporary berth, and the mate was so wild, he might have swam off
with perfect propriety to the woods on either side of us, and taken
to a tree as an aborigen or chimpanzee. Two men of most retiring
habits, the negro, a black boy, and a very fat negress who officiated
as cook, filled up the “balance” of the crew.
I could not write, for the vibration of the deck of the little
craft gave a St. Vitus dance to pen and pencil; reading was out
of the question from the heat and flies; and below stairs the fat
cook banished repose by vapours from her dreadful caldrons, where,
Medea-like, she was boiling some death broth. Our breakfast was of
the simplest and--may I add?--the least enticing; and if the dinner
could have been worse it was so; though it was rendered attractive
by hunger, and by the kindness of the sailors who shared it with me.
The old pilot had a most wholesome hatred of the Britishers, and not
having the least idea till late in the day that I belonged to the old
country, favoured me with some very remarkable views respecting their
general mischievousness and inutility. As soon as he found out my
secret he became more reserved, and explained to me that he had some
reason for not liking us, because all he had in the world, as pretty
a schooner as ever floated and a fine cargo, had been taken and
burnt by the English when they sailed up the Potomac to Washington.
He served against us at Bladensburg. I did not ask him how fast he
ran; but he had a good rejoinder ready if I had done so, inasmuch as
he was up West under Commodore Perry on the lakes when we suffered
our most serious reverses. Six knots an hour! hour after hour! And
nothing to do but to listen to the pilot.
On both sides a line of forest just visible above the low shores.
Small coasting craft, schooners, pungys, boats laden with wood
creeping along in the shallow water, or plying down empty before wind
and tide.
“I doubt if we’ll be able to catch up them forts afore night,” said
the skipper. The pilot grunted, “I rather think yu’ll not.” “H----
and thunder! Then we’ll have to lie off till daylight?” “They may let
you pass, Captain Squires, as you’ve this Europe-an on board, but
anyhow we can’t fetch Baltimore till late at night or early in the
morning.”
I heard the dialogue, and decided very quickly that as Annapolis lay
somewhere ahead on our left, and was much nearer than Baltimore, it
would be best to run for it while there was daylight. The captain
demurred. He had been ordered to take his vessel to Baltimore,
and General Butler might come down on him for not doing so; but I
proposed to sign a letter stating he had gone to Annapolis at my
request, and the steamer was put a point or two to westward, much to
the pleasure of the Palinurus, whose “old woman” lived in the town.
I had an affection for this weather-beaten, watery-eyed, honest old
fellow, who hated us as cordially as Jack detested his Frenchman in
the old days before _ententes cordiales_ were known to the world. He
was thoroughly English in his belief that he belonged to the only
sailor race in the world, and that they could beat all mankind in
seamanship; and he spoke in the most unaffected way of the Britishers
as a survivor of the old war might do of Johnny Crapaud--“They were
brave enough no doubt, but, Lord bless you, see them in a gale of
wind! or look at them sending down top-gallant masts, or anything
sailor-like in a breeze. _You’d_ soon see the differ. And, besides,
they _never can_ stand again us at close quarters.” By-and-by the
houses of a considerable town, crowned by steeples, and a large
Corinthian-looking building, came in view. “That’s the State House.
That’s where George Washington--first in peace, first in war, and
first in the hearts of his countrymen--laid down his victorious sword
without any one asking him, and retired amid the applause of the
civilized world.” This flight I am sure was the old man’s treasured
relic of school-boy days, and I’m not sure he did not give it to me
three times over. Annapolis looks very well from the river side. The
approach is guarded by some very poor earthworks and one small fort.
A dismantled sloop of war lay off a sea wall, banking up a green lawn
covered with trees, in front of an old-fashioned pile of buildings,
which formerly, I think, and very recently indeed, was occupied by
the cadets of the United States Naval School. “There was a lot of
them Seceders. Lord bless you! these young ones is all took by these
States Rights’ doctrines--just as the ladies is caught by a new
fashion.”
About seven o’clock the steamer hove alongside a wooden pier which
was quite deserted. Only some ten or twelve sailing boats, yachts,
and schooners lay at anchor in the placid waters of the port which
was once the capital of Maryland, and for which the early Republicans
prophesied a great future. But Baltimore has eclipsed Annapolis into
utter obscurity. I walked to the only hotel in the place, and found
that the train for the junction with Washington had started, and that
the next train left at some impossible hour in the morning. It is an
odd Rip Van Winkle sort of a place. Quaint-looking boarders came down
to the tea-table and talked Secession, and when I was detected, as
must ever soon be the case, owing to the hotel book, I was treated to
some ill-favoured glances, as my recent letters have been denounced
in the strongest way for their supposed hostility to States Rights
and the Domestic Institution. The spirit of the people has, however,
been broken by the Federal occupation, and by the decision with
which Butler acted when he came down here with the troops to open
communications with Washington after the Baltimoreans had attacked
the soldiery on their way through the city from the north.