A Crimean acquaintance--Personal abuse of myself--Close
firing--A reconnaissance--Major-General Bell--The Prince de
Joinville and his nephews--American estimate of Louis Napoleon
--Arrest of members of the Maryland Legislature--Life at
Washington--War cries--News from the Far West--Journey to the
Western States--Along the Susquehannah and Juniata--Chicago--
Sport in the prairie--Arrested for shooting on Sunday--The
town of Dwight--Return to Washington--Mr. Seward and myself.
_September 11th._--A soft-voiced, round-faced, rather good-looking
young man, with downy moustache, came to my room, and introduced
himself this morning as Mr. H. H. Scott, formerly of Her Majesty’s
57th Regiment. “Don’t you remember me? I often met you at Cathcart’s
Hill. I had a big dog, if you remember, which used to be about the
store belonging to our camp.” And so he rattled on, talking of old
Street and young Jones with immense volubility, and telling me how
he had gone out to India with his regiment, had married, lost his
wife, and was now travelling for the benefit of his health and to see
the country. All the time I was trying to remember his face, but in
vain. At last came the purport of his visit. He had been taken ill at
Baltimore, and was obliged to stop at an hotel, which had cost him
more than he had anticipated; he had just received a letter from his
father, which required his immediate return, and he had telegraphed
to New York to secure his place in the next steamer. Meantime, he was
out of money, and required a small loan to enable him to go back and
prepare for his journey, and of course he would send me the money
the moment he arrived in New York. I wrote a cheque for the amount
he named, with which Lieutenant or Captain Scott departed; and my
suspicions were rather aroused by seeing him beckon a remarkably
ill-favoured person at the other side of the way, who crossed over
and inspected the little slip of paper held out for his approbation,
and then, taking his friend under the arm, walked off rapidly towards
the bank.
The papers still continue to abuse me _faute de mieux_; there are
essays written about me; I am threatened with several farces; I have
been lectured upon at Willard’s by a professor of rhetoric; and I am
a stock subject with the leaden penny funny journals, for articles
and caricatures. Yesterday I was abused on the ground that I spoke
badly of those who treated me hospitably. The man who wrote the
words knew they were false, because I have been most careful in my
correspondence to avoid anything of the kind. A favourite accusation,
indeed, which Americans make against foreigners is, “that they have
abused our hospitality,” which oftentimes consists in permitting them
to live in the country at all at their own expense, paying their way
at hotels and elsewhere, without the smallest suspicion that they
were receiving any hospitality whatever.
To-day, for instance, there comes a lively corporal of artillery,
John Robinson, who quotes Sismondi, Guizot, and others, to prove that
I am the worst man in the world; but his fiercest invectives are
directed against me on the ground that I speak well of those people
who give me dinners; the fact being, since I came to America, that I
have given at least as many dinners to Americans as I have received
from them.
Just as I was sitting down to my desk for the remainder of the day,
a sound caught my ear which, repeated again and again, could not
be mistaken by accustomed organs, and placing my face close to the
windows, I perceived the glass vibrate to the distant discharge of
cannon, which, evidently, did not proceed from a review or a salute.
Unhappy man that I am! here is Walker lame, and my other horse
carried off by the West-country captain. However, the sounds were
so close that in a few moments I was driving off towards the Chain
Bridge, taking the upper road, as that by the canal has become a sea
of mud filled with deep holes.
In the windows, on the house-tops, even to the ridges partially
overlooking Virginia, people were standing in high excitement,
watching the faint puffs of smoke which rose at intervals above the
tree-tops, and at every report a murmur--exclamations of “There,
do you hear that?”--ran through the crowd. The driver, as excited
as any one else, urged his horses at full speed, and we arrived at
the Chain Bridge just as General M‘Call--a white haired, rather
military-looking old man--appeared at the head of his column,
hurrying down to the Chain Bridge from the Maryland side, to
re-inforce Smith, who was said to be heavily engaged with the enemy.
But by this time the firing had ceased, and just as the artillery
of the General’s column commenced defiling through the mud, into
which the guns sank to the naves of the wheels, the head of another
column appeared, entering the bridge from the Virginia side with
loud cheers, which were taken up again and again. The carriage was
halted to allow the 2nd Wisconsin to pass; and a more broken-down,
white-faced, sick, and weakly set of poor wretches I never beheld.
The heavy rains had washed the very life out of them; their clothing
was in rags, their shoes were broken, and multitudes were foot-sore.
They cheered, nevertheless, or whooped, and there was a tremendous
clatter of tongues in the ranks concerning their victory; but, as the
men’s faces and hands were not blackened by powder, they could have
seen little of the engagement. Captain Poe came along with dispatches
for General M‘Clellan, and gave me a correct account of the affair.
All this noise and firing and excitement, I found, simply arose out
of a reconnaissance made towards Lewinsville, by Smith and a part
of his brigade, to beat up the enemy’s position, and enable the
topographical engineers to procure some information respecting the
country. The Confederates worked down upon their left flank with
artillery, which they got into position at an easy range without
being observed, intending, no doubt, to cut off their retreat
and capture or destroy the whole force; but, fortunately for the
reconnoitring party, the impatience of their enemies led them to open
fire too soon. The Federals got their guns into position also, and
covered their retreat, whilst reinforcements poured out of camp to
their assistance, “and I doubt not,” said Poe, “but that they will
have an encounter of a tremendous scalping match in all the papers
to-morrow, although we have only six or seven men killed, and twelve
wounded.” As we approached Washington the citizens, as they are
called, were waving Federal banners out of the windows and rejoicing
in a great victory; at least, the inhabitants of the inferior sort of
houses. Respectability in Washington means Secession.
Mr. Monson told me that my distressed young British subject, Captain
Scott, had called on him at the Legation early this morning for the
little pecuniary help which had been, I fear, wisely refused there,
and which was granted by me. The States have become, indeed, more
than ever the _cloacina gentium_, and Great Britain contributes its
full quota to the stream.
Thus time passes away in expectation of some onward movement, or
desperate attack, or important strategical movements; and night comes
to reassemble a few friends, Americans and English, at my rooms
or elsewhere, to talk over the disappointed hopes of the day, to
speculate on the future, to chide each dull delay, and to part with a
hope that to-morrow would be more lively than to-day. Major-General
Bell, who commanded the Royals in the Crimea, and who has passed some
half century in active service, turned up in Washington, and has been
courteously received by the American authorities. He joined to-night
one of our small reunions, and was infinitely puzzled to detect the
lines which separated one man’s country and opinions from those of
the other.
_September 11th._--Captain Johnson, Queen’s messenger, started with
despatches for England from the Legation to-day, to the regret of
our little party. I observe by the papers certain wiseacres in
Philadelphia have got up a petition against me to Mr. Seward, on
the ground that I have been guilty of treasonable practices and
misrepresentations in my letter dated August 10th. There is also
to be a lecture on the 17th at Willard’s, by the Professor of
Rhetoric, to a volunteer regiment, which the President is invited to
attend--the subject being myself.
There is an absolute nullity of events, out of which the New York
papers endeavour, in vain, to extract a _caput mortuum_ of sensation
headings. The Prince of Joinville and his two nephews, the Count of
Paris and the Duke of Chartres, have been here for some days, and
have been received with marked attention by the President, Cabinet,
politicians and military. The Prince has come with the intention of
placing his son at the United States Naval Academy, and his nephews
with the head-quarters of the Federal army. The _empressement_
exhibited at the White House towards the French princes is attributed
by ill-natured rumours and persons to a little pique on the part
of Mrs. Lincoln, because the Princess Clothilde did not receive
her at New York, but considerable doubts are entertained of the
Emperor’s “loyalty” towards the Union. Under the wild extravagance
of professions of attachment to France are hidden suspicions
that Louis Napoleon may be capable of treasonable practices and
misrepresentations, which, in time, may lead the Philadelphians to
get up a petition against M. Mercier.
The news that twenty-two members of the Maryland Legislature have
been seized by the Federal authorities has not produced the smallest
effect here: so easily do men in the midst of political troubles
bend to arbitrary power, and so rapidly do all guarantees disappear
in a revolution. I was speaking to one of General M‘Clellan’s
aides-de-camp this evening respecting these things, when he
said--“If I thought he would use his power a day longer than was
necessary, I would resign this moment. I believe him incapable of any
selfish or unconstitutional views, or unlawful ambition, and you will
see that he will not disappoint our expectations.”
It is now quite plain M‘Clellan has no intention of making a general
defensive movement against Richmond. He is aware his army is not
equal to the task--commissariat deficient, artillery wanting, no
cavalry; above all, ill-officered, incoherent battalions. He hopes,
no doubt, by constant reviewing and inspection, and by weeding out
the preposterous fellows who render epaulettes ridiculous, to create
an infantry which shall be able for a short campaign in the fine
autumn weather; but I am quite satisfied he does not intend to move
now, and possibly will not do so till next year. I have arranged
therefore to pay a short visit to the West, penetrating as far as I
can, without leaving telegraphs and railways behind, so that if an
advance takes place, I shall be back in time at Washington to assist
at the earliest battle. These Federal armies do not move like the
corps of the French republic, or Crawford’s Light Division.
In truth, Washington life is becoming exceedingly monotonous and
uninteresting. The pleasant little evening parties or tertulias which
once relieved the dulness of this dullest of capitals, take place no
longer. Very wrong indeed would it be that rejoicings and festivities
should occur in the capital of a country menaced with destruction,
where many anxious hearts are grieving over the lost, or tortured
with fears for the living.
But for the hospitality of Lord Lyons to the English residents, the
place would be nearly insufferable, for at his house one met other
friendly ministers who extended the circle of invitations, and two
or three American families completed the list which one could reckon
on his fingers. Then at night, there were assemblages of the same
men, who uttered the same opinions, told the same stories, sang the
same songs, varied seldom by strange faces or novel accomplishments,
but always friendly and social enough--not conducive perhaps to
very early rising, but innocent of gambling, or other excess. A
flask of Bordeaux, a wicker-covered demi-john of Bourbon, a jug
of iced water and a bundle of cigars, with the latest arrival of
newspapers, furnished the _matériel_ of these small symposiums, in
which Americans and Englishmen and a few of the members of foreign
Legations, mingled in a friendly cosmopolitan manner. Now and then a
star of greater magnitude came down upon us: a senator or an “earnest
man,” or a “live man,” or a constitutional lawyer, or a remarkable
statesman, coruscated, and rushing off into the outer world left
us befogged, with our glimmering lights half extinguished with
tobacco-smoke.
Out of doors excessive heat alternating with thunder-storms and
tropical showers--dust beaten into mud, or mud sublimated into
dust--eternal reviews, each like the other--visits to camp, where we
saw the same men and heard the same stories of perpetual abortive
skirmishes--rides confined to the same roads and paths by lines of
sentries, offered no greater attraction than the city, where one’s
bones were racked with fever and ague, and where every evening the
pestilential vapours of the Potomac rose higher and spread further.
No wonder that I was glad to get away to the Far West, particularly
as I entertained hopes of witnessing some of the operations down the
Mississippi, before I was summoned back to Washington, by the news
that the grand army had actually broken up camp, and was about once
more to march against Richmond.
_September 12th._--The day passed quietly, in spite of rumours of
another battle; the band played in the President’s garden, and
citizens and citizenesses strolled about the grounds as if Secession
had been annihilated. The President made a fitful appearance, in a
grey shooting suit, with a number of despatches in his hand, and
walked off towards the State Department quite unnoticed by the
crowd. I am sure not half a dozen persons saluted him--not one of
the men I saw even touched his hat. General Bell went round the
works with M‘Clellan, and expressed his opinion that it would be
impossible to fight a great battle in the country which lay between
the two armies--in fact, as he said, “a general could no more handle
his troops among the woods, than he could regulate the movements
of rabbits in a cover. You ought just to make a proposition to
Beauregard to come out on some plain and fight the battle fairly out
where you can see each other.”
_September 16th._--It is most agreeable to be removed from all the
circumstance without any of the pomp and glory of war. Although there
is a tendency in the North, and, for aught I know, in the South, to
consider the contest in the same light as one with a foreign enemy,
the very battle-cries on both sides indicate a civil war. “The Union
for ever”--“States rights”--and “Down with the Abolitionists,”
cannot be considered national. M‘Clellan takes no note of time even
by its loss, which is all the more strange because he sets great
store upon it in his report on the conduct of the war in the Crimea.
However, he knows an army cannot be made in two months, and that
the larger it is, the more time there is required to harmonize its
components. The news from the Far West indicated a probability of
some important operations taking place, although my first love--the
army of the Potomac--must be returned to. Any way there was the
great Western Prairie to be seen, and the people who have been
pouring from their plains so many thousands upon the Southern States
to assert the liberties of those coloured races whom they will not
permit to cross their borders as freemen. Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Blair,
and other Abolitionists, are actuated by similar sentiments, and
seek to emancipate the slave, and remove from him the protection
of his master, in order that they may drive him from the continent
altogether, or force him to seek refuge in emigration.
On the 18th of September, I left Baltimore in company with
Major-General Bell, C.B., and Mr. Lamy, who was well acquainted with
the Western States: stopping one night at Altoona, in order that we
might cross by daylight the fine passes of the Alleganies, which are
traversed by bold gradients, and remarkable cuttings, second only in
difficulty and extent to those of the railroad across the Sömmering.
So far as my observation extends, no route in the United States can
give a stranger a better notion of the variety of scenery and of
resources, the vast extent of territory, the difference in races, the
prosperity of the present, and the probable greatness of the future,
than the line from Baltimore by Harrisburg and Pittsburg to Chicago,
traversing the great States of Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana. Plain
and mountain, hill and valley, river and meadow, forest and rock,
wild tracts through which the Indian roamed but a few years ago,
lands covered with the richest crops; rugged passes, which Salvator
would have peopled with shadowy groups of bandits; gentle sylvan
glades, such as Gainsborough would have covered with waving corn;
the hum of mills, the silence of the desert and waste, sea-like
lakes whitened by innumerable sails, mighty rivers carving their way
through continents, sparkling rivulets that lose their lives amongst
giant wheels: seams and lodes of coal, iron, and mineral wealth,
cropping out of desolate mountain sides; busy, restless manufacturers
and traders alternating with stolid rustics, hedges clustering with
grapes, mountains whitening with snow; and beyond, the great Prairie
stretching away to the backbone of inhospitable rock, which, rising
from the foundations of the world, bar the access of the white man
and civilisation to the bleak inhospitable regions beyond, which both
are fain as yet to leave to the savage and wild beast.
Travelling along the banks of the Susquehannah, the visitor, however,
is neither permitted to admire the works of nature in silence, or
to express his admiration of the energy of man in his own way. The
tyranny of public opinion is upon him. He must admit that he never
saw anything so wonderful in his life; that there is nothing so
beautiful anywhere else; no fields so green, no rivers so wide and
deep, no bridges so lofty and long; and at last he is inclined to
shut himself up, either in absolute grumpy negation, or to indulge
in hopeless controversy. An American gentleman is as little likely
as any other well-bred man to force the opinions or interrupt the
reveries of a stranger; but if third-class Esquimaux are allowed to
travel in first-class carriages, the hospitable creatures will be
quite likely to insist on your swallowing train oil, eating blubber,
or admiring snow drifts, as the finest things in the world. It is
infinitely to the credit of the American people that actual offence
is so seldom given and is still more rarely intended--always save and
except in the one particular, of chewing tobacco. Having seen most
things that can irritate one’s stomach, and being in company with
an old soldier, I little expected that any excess of the sort could
produce disagreeable effects; but on returning from this excursion,
Mr. Lamy and myself were fairly driven out of a carriage, on the
Pittsburg line, in utter loathing and disgust, by the condition
of the floor. The conductor, passing through, said, “You must not
stand out there, it is against the rules; you can go in and smoke,”
pointing to the carriage. “In there!” exclaimed my friend, “why, it
is too filthy to put a wild beast into.” The conductor looked in for
a moment, nodded his head, and said, “Well, I concede it is right
bad; the citizens _are_ going it pretty strong,” and so left us.
The scenery along the Juniata is still more picturesque than that of
the valley of the Susquehannah. The borders of the route across the
Alleganies have been described by many a writer; but notwithstanding
the good fortune which favoured us, and swept away the dense veil
of vapours on the lower ranges of the hills, the landscape scarcely
produced the effect of scenery on a less extended scale, just as
the scenery of the Himalayas is not so striking as that of the Alps,
because it is on too vast a scale to be readily grasped.
Pittsburg, where we halted next night, on the Ohio, is certainly,
with the exception of Birmingham, the most intensely sooty, busy,
squalid, foul-housed, and vile-suburbed city I have ever seen. Under
its perpetual canopy of smoke, pierced by a forest of blackened
chimneys, the ill-paved streets, swarm with a streaky population
whose white faces are smutched with soot streaks--the noise of
vans and drays which shake the houses as they pass, the turbulent
life in the thoroughfares, the wretched brick tenements,--built in
waste places on squalid mounds, surrounded by heaps of slag and
broken brick--all these gave the stranger the idea of some vast
manufacturing city of the Inferno; and yet a few miles beyond, the
country is studded with beautiful villas, and the great river,
bearing innumerable barges and steamers on its broad bosom, rolls its
turbid waters between banks rich with cultivated crops.
The policeman at Pittsburg station--a burly Englishman--told me that
the war had been of the greatest service to the city. He spoke not
only from a policeman’s point of view, when he said that all the
rowdies, Irish, Germans, and others had gone off to the war, but from
the manufacturing stand-point, as he added that wages were high, and
that the orders from contractors were keeping all the manufacturers
going. “It is wonderful,” said he, “what a number of the citizens
come back from the South, by rail, in these new metallic coffins.”
A long, long day, traversing the State of Indiana by the Fort Wayne
route, followed by a longer night, just sufficed to carry us to
Chicago. The railway passes through a most uninteresting country,
which in part is scarcely rescued from a state of nature by the hand
of man; but it is wonderful to see so much done, when one hears that
the Miami Indians and other tribes were driven out, or, as the phrase
is, “removed,” only twenty years ago--“conveyed, the wise called
it”--to the reserves.
From Chicago, where we descended at a hotel which fairly deserves
to be styled magnificent, for comfort and completeness, Mr. Lamy
and myself proceeded to Racine, on the shores of Lake Michigan,
and thence took the rail for Freeport, where I remained for some
days, going out in the surrounding prairie to shoot in the morning,
and returning at nightfall. The prairie chickens were rather wild.
The delight of these days, notwithstanding bad sport, cannot be
described, nor was it the least ingredient in it to mix with the
fresh and vigorous race who are raising up cities on these fertile
wastes. Fortunately for the patience of my readers, perhaps, I did
not fill my diary with the records of each day’s events, or of the
contents of our bags; and the note-book in which I jotted down some
little matters which struck me to be of interest has been mislaid;
but in my letters to England I gave a description of the general
aspect of the country, and of the feelings of the people, and
arrived at the conclusion that the tax-gatherer will have little
chance of returning with full note-books from his tour in these
districts. The dogs which were lent to us were generally abominable;
but every evening we returned in company with great leather-greaved
and jerkined-men, hung round with belts and hooks, from which were
suspended strings of defunct prairie chickens. The farmers were
hospitable, but were suffering from a morbid longing for a failure of
crops in Europe, in order to give some value to their corn and wheat,
which literally cumbered the earth.
Freeport! Who ever heard of it? And yet it has its newspapers,
more than I dare mention, and its big hotel lighted with gas, its
billiard-rooms and saloons, magazines, railway stations, and all the
proper paraphernalia of local self-government, with all their fierce
intrigues and giddy factions.
From Freeport our party returned to Chicago, taking leave of our
excellent friend and companion Mr. George Thompson, of Racine. The
authorities of the Central Illinois Railway, to whose courtesy and
consideration I was infinitely indebted, placed at our disposal a
magnificent sleeping carriage; and on the morning after our arrival,
having laid in a good stock of supplies, and engaged an excellent
sporting guide and dogs, we started, attached to the regular train
from Chicago, until the train stopped at a shunting place near the
station of Dwight, in the very centre of the prairie. We reached
our halting-place, were detached, and were shot up a siding in the
solitude, with no habitation in view, except the wood shanty, in
which lived the family of the Irish overseer of this portion of the
road--a man happy in the possession of a piece of gold which he
received from the Prince of Wales, and for which, he declared, he
would not take the amount of the National Debt.
The sleeping carriage proved most comfortable quarters. After
breakfast in the morning, Mr. Lamy, Col. Foster, Mr. ----, of the
Central Illinois rail, the keeper, and myself, descending the steps
of our moveable house, walked in a few strides to the shooting
grounds, which abounded with quail, but were not so well peopled by
the chickens. The quail were weak on the wing, owing to the lateness
of the season, and my companions grumbled at their hard luck, though
I was well content with fresh air, my small share of birds, and a
few American hares. Night and morning the train rushed by, and when
darkness settled down upon the prairie, our lamps were lighted,
dinner was served in the carriage, set forth with inimitable potatoes
cooked by the old Irishwoman. From the dinner-table it was but a step
to go to bed. When storm or rain rushed over the sea-like plain, I
remained in the carriage writing, and after a long spell of work, it
was inexpressibly pleasant to take a ramble through the flowering
grass and the sweet-scented broom, and to go beating through the
stunted under-cover, careless of rattlesnakes, whose tiny prattling
music I heard often enough without a sight of the tails that made it.
One rainy morning, the 29th September, I think, as the sun began to
break through drifting rain clouds, I saw my companions preparing
their guns, the sporting chaperon Walker filling the shot flasks, and
making all the usual arrangements for a day’s shooting. “You don’t
mean to say you are going out shooting on a Sunday!” I said. “What,
on the prairies!” exclaimed Colonel Foster. “Why, of course we are;
there’s nothing wrong in it here. What nobler temple can we find
to worship in than lies around us? It is the custom of the people
hereabouts to shoot on Sundays, and it is a work of necessity with
us; for our larder is very low.”
And so, after breakfast, we set out, but the rain came down so
densely that we were driven to the house of a farmer, and finally we
returned to our sleeping carriage for the day. I never fired a shot
nor put a gun to my shoulder, nor am I sure that any of my companions
killed a bird.
The rain fell with violence all day, and at night the gusts of wind
shook the carriage like a ship at sea. We were sitting at table after
dinner, when the door at the end of the carriage opened, and a man,
in a mackintosh dripping wet, advanced with unsteady steps along
the centre of the carriage, between the beds, and taking off his
hat, in the top of which he searched diligently, stood staring with
lack-lustre eyes from one to the other of the party, till Colonel
Foster exclaimed, “Well, sir, what do you want?”
“What do I want,” he replied, with a slight thickness of speech,
“which of you is the Honourable Lord William Russell, correspondent
of the London _Times_? That’s what I want.”
I certified to my identity; whereupon, drawing a piece of paper out
of his hat, he continued, “Then I arrest you, Honourable Lord William
Russell, in the name of the people of the Commonwealth of Illinois,”
and thereupon handed me a document, declaring that one, Morgan, of
Dwight, having come before him that day and sworn that I, with a
company of men and dogs, had unlawfully assembled, and by firing
shots, and by barking and noise, had disturbed the peace of the State
of Illinois, he, the subscriber or justice of the peace, as named and
described, commanded the constable Podgers, or whatever his name
was, to bring my body before him to answer to the charge.
Now this town of Dwight was a good many miles away, the road was
declared by those who knew it to be very bad, the night was pitch
dark, the rain falling in torrents, and as the constable, drawing
out of his hat paper after paper with the names of impossible
persons upon them, served subpœnas on all the rest of the party to
appear next morning, the anger of Colonel Foster could scarcely be
restrained, by kicks under the table and nods and becks and wreathed
smiles from the rest of the party. “This is infamous! It is a
political persecution!” he exclaimed, whilst the keeper joined in
chorus, declaring he never heard of such a proceeding before in all
his long experience of the prairie, and never knew there was such an
act in existence. The Irishmen in the hut added that the informer
himself generally went out shooting every Sunday. However, I could
not but regret I had given the fellow an opportunity of striking
at me, and though I was the only one of the party who raised an
objection to our going out at all, I was deservedly suffering for the
impropriety--to call it here by no harsher name.
The constable, a man of a liquid eye and a cheerful countenance,
paid particular attention meantime to a large bottle upon the
table, and as I professed my readiness to go the moment he had some
refreshment that very wet night, the stern severity becoming a
minister of justice, which marked his first utterances, was sensibly
mollified; and when Mr. ---- proposed that he should drive back with
him and see the prosecutor, he was good enough to accept my written
acknowledgment of the service of the writ, and promise to appear the
following morning, as an adequate discharge of his duty--combined
with the absorption of some Bourbon whisky--and so retired.
Mr. ---- returned late at night, and very angry. It appears that the
prosecutor--who is not a man of very good reputation, and whom his
neighbours were as much astonished to find the champion of religious
observances as they would have been if he was to come forward to
insist on the respect due to the seventh commandment--with the
insatiable passion for notoriety, which is one of the worst results
of American institutions, thought he would gain himself some little
reputation by causing annoyance to a man so unpopular as myself. He
and a companion having come from Dwight for the purpose, and hiding
in the neighbourhood, had, therefore, devoted their day to lying in
wait and watching our party; and as they were aware in the railway
carriage I was with Colonel Foster, they had no difficulty in finding
out the names of the rest of the party. The magistrate being his
relative, granted the warrant at once; and the prosecutor, who was in
waiting for the constable, was exceedingly disappointed when he found
that I had not been dragged through the rain.
Next morning, a special engine which had been ordered up by telegraph
appeared alongside the car; and a short run through a beautiful
country brought us to the prairie town of Dwight. The citizens were
astir--it was a great day--and as I walked with Colonel Forster, all
the good people seemed to be enjoying an unexampled treat in gazing
at the stupendous criminal. The court-house, or magistrate’s office,
was suitable to the republican simplicity of the people of Dwight;
for the chamber of justice was on the first floor of a house over a
store, and access was obtained to it by a ladder from the street to
a platform, at the top of which I was ushered into the presence of
the court--a plain white-washed room. I am not sure there was even
an engraving of George Washington on the walls. The magistrate in a
full suit of black, with his hat on, was seated at a small table;
behind him a few books, on plain deal shelves, provided his fund
of legal learning. The constable, with a severer visage than that
of last night, stood upon the right hand; three sides of the room
were surrounded by a wall of stout honest Dwightians, among whom
I produced a profound sensation, by the simple ceremony of taking
off my hat, which they no doubt considered a token of the degraded
nature of the Britisher, but which moved the magistrate to take off
his head-covering; whereupon some of the nearest removed theirs,
some putting them on again, and some remaining uncovered; and then
the informations were read, and on being asked what I had to say,
I merely bowed, and said I had no remarks to offer. But my friend,
Colonel Foster, who had been churning up his wrath and forensic lore
for some time, putting one hand under his coat tail, and elevating
the other in the air, with modulated cadences, poured out a fine
oratorical flow which completely astonished me, and whipped the
audience morally off their legs completely. In touching terms he
described the mission of an illustrious stranger, who had wandered
over thousands of miles of land and sea to gaze upon the beauties of
those prairies which the Great Maker of the Universe had expanded as
the banqueting tables for the famishing millions of pauperised and
despotic Europe. As the representative of an influence which the
people of the great State of Illinois should wish to see developed,
instead of contracted, honoured instead of being insulted, he had
come among them to admire the grandeur of nature, and to behold
with wonder the magnificent progress of human happiness and free
institutions. (Some thumping of sticks, and cries of “Bravo, that’s
so,” which warmed the Colonel into still higher flights). I began
to feel if he was as great in invective as he was in eulogy, it was
well he had not lived to throw a smooth pebble from his sling at
Warren Hastings. As great indeed! Why, when the Colonel had drawn
a beautiful picture of me examining coal deposits--investigating
strata--breathing autumnal airs, and culling flowers in unsuspecting
innocence, and then suddenly denounced the serpent who had dogged
my steps, in order to strike me down with a justice’s warrant, I
protest it is doubtful, if he did not reach to the most elevated
stage of vituperative oratory, the progression of which was marked
by increasing thumps of sticks, and louder murmurs of applause, to
the discomfiture of the wretched prosecutor. But the magistrate was
not a man of imagination; he felt he was but elective after all; and
so, with his eye fixed upon his book, he pronounced his decision,
which was that I be amerced in something more than half the maximum
fine fixed by the statute, some five-and-twenty shillings or so, the
greater part to be spent in the education of the people, by transfer
to the school fund of the State.
As I was handing the notes to the magistrate, several respectable men
coming forward exclaimed, “Pray oblige us, Mr. Russell, by letting us
pay the amount for you; this is a shameful proceeding.” But thanking
them heartily for their proffered kindness, I completed the little
pecuniary transaction and wished the magistrate good morning, with
the remark that I hoped the people of the State of Illinois would
always find such worthy defenders of the statutes as the prosecutor,
and never have offenders against their peace and morals more culpable
than myself. Having undergone a severe scolding from an old woman at
the top of the ladder, I walked to the train, followed by a number of
the audience, who repeatedly expressed their extreme regret at the
little persecution to which I had been subjected. The prosecutor had
already made arrangements to send the news over the whole breadth
of the Union, which was his only reward; as I must do the American
papers the justice to say that, with a few natural exceptions, those
which noticed the occurrence unequivocally condemned his conduct.
That evening, as we were planning an extension of our sporting tour,
the mail rattling by deposited our letters and papers, and we saw at
the top of many columns the startling words, “Grand Advance Of The
Union Army.” “M‘Clellan Marching On Richmond.” “Capture Of Munson’s
Hill.” “Retreat of the Enemy--30,000 men Seize Their Fortifications.”
Not a moment was to be lost; if I was too late, I never would
forgive myself. Our carriage was hooked on to the return train, and
at 8 o’clock p.m. I started on my return to Washington, by way of
Cleveland.
At half-past 3 on the 1st October the train reached Pittsburg, just
too late to catch the train for Baltimore; but I continued my journey
at night, arriving at Baltimore after noon, and reaching Washington
at 6 p.m. on the 2nd of October.
_October 3rd._--In Washington once more--all the world laughing
at the pump and the wooden guns at Munson’s Hill, but angry withal
because M‘Clellan should be so befooled as they considered it, by
the Confederates. The fact is M‘Clellan was not prepared to move,
and therefore not disposed to hazard a general engagement, which
he might have brought on had the enemy been in force; perhaps he
knew they were not, but found it convenient nevertheless to act as
though he believed they had established themselves strongly in his
front, as half the world will give him credit for knowing more than
the civilian strategists who have already got into disgrace for
urging M‘Dowell on to Richmond. The federal armies are not handled
easily. They are luxurious in the matter of baggage, and canteens,
and private stores; and this is just the sort of war in which the
general who moves lightly and rapidly, striking blows unexpectedly
and deranging communications, will obtain great results.
Although Beauregard’s name is constantly mentioned, I fancy that,
crafty and reticent as he is, the operations in front of us have
been directed by an officer of larger capacity. As yet M‘Clellan has
certainly done nothing in the field to show he is like Napoleon. The
value of his labours in camp has yet to be tested. I dined at the
Legation, and afterwards there was a meeting at my rooms, where I
heard of all that had passed during my absence.
_October 4th._--The new expedition, of which I have been hearing for
some time past, is about to sail to Port Royal, under the command
of General Burnside, in order to reduce the works erected at the
entrance of the Sound, to secure a base of operations against
Charleston, and to cut in upon the communication between that
place and Savannah. Alas, for poor Trescot! his plantations, his
secluded home! What will the good lady think of the Yankee invasion,
which surely must succeed, as the naval force will be overwhelming?
I visited the division of General Egbert Viele, encamped near
the Navy-yard, which is bound to Annapolis, as a part of General
Burnside’s expedition. When first I saw him, the general was an
emeritus captain, attached to the 7th New York Militia; now he is
a Brigadier-General, if not something more, commanding a corps of
nearly 5000 men, with pay and allowances to match. His good lady
wife, who accompanied him in the Mexican campaign,--whereof came
a book, lively and light, as a lady’s should be,--was about to
accompany her husband in his assault on the Carolinians, and prepared
for action, by opening a small broadside on my unhappy self, whom
she regarded as an enemy of our glorious Union; and therefore an
ally of the Evil Powers on both sides of the grave. The women, North
and South, are equally pitiless to their enemies; and it was but the
other day, a man with whom I am on very good terms in Washington,
made an apology for not asking me to his house, because his wife was
a strong Union woman.
A gentleman who had been dining with Mr. Seward to-night told me the
Minister had complained that I had not been near him for nearly two
months; the fact was, however, that I had called twice immediately
after the appearance in America of my letter dated July 22nd, and had
met Mr. Seward afterwards, when his manner was, or appeared to me to
be, cold and distant, and I had therefore abstained from intruding
myself upon his notice; nor did his answer to the Philadelphian
petition--in which Mr. Seward appeared to admit the allegations made
against me were true, and to consider I had violated the hospitality
accorded me--induce me to think that he did not entertain the opinion
which these journals which set themselves up to be his organs had so
repeatedly expressed.