RICHMOND--HOLLYWOOD--JEFF DAVIS--BRECKINRIDGE--EXTRA BILLY SMITH--MAYOR,
GOVERNOR, ETC.
It should be remembered that I am writing of Richmond, as I found it
during the beautiful autumn months of September, October and November,
1861. The same conditions did not prevail in the years that immediately
followed. It would no doubt have been impossible in 1864 to have
overcome so easily the obstacles I encountered in 1861-2.
One other important factor in my favor is, that, after the success of
Bull Run, the Southern people generally, and especially those about
Richmond and Manassas, were so enthused as it were by the recent success
that they became, for the time being, quite careless and were not
disposed to closely scrutinize strangers who happened to be among them.
I realized these facts at the time, and profited by it. I began to feel
so secure myself that I became quite careless about my own safety, and,
as I became stronger each day, I spent pretty much all of my time either
on one of the benches in the Capitol Square or leisurely walking over
the streets of the city.
It became a daily custom with me to secure early a certain seat in the
Capitol grounds, from which I could look directly into the front windows
of the room which Jeff Davis occupied for his executive office. I had
selected this bench because, from its location, which, by the way, to be
exact, I will state was near the statue of Henry Clay, I could observe
every person that either went into or out of the large hall door down
stairs, which led to Mr. Davis' apartments. I was most anxious to get a
glimpse of Mr. Davis, whom I had last seen at the Exchange Hotel at
Montgomery during the bombardment of Fort Sumter. From my position in
the grounds I could not, of course, see into the room in which I knew
Mr. Davis was located, but I could imagine, from the number of people
who were constantly going and coming, that he must have been kept pretty
busy entertaining them. I did not find it advisable at that time to
thrust myself upon his attention. It was only after several long waits
and disappointments that I was one evening gratified to see my old
Montgomery friend come out of the hallway in company with the present
distinguished Senator from Texas, Hon. John H. Regan. They stood
together on the steps a few minutes engaged in conversation, when Mr.
Davis, with a courteous bow, turned to his carriage, which was waiting
at the curb, the door was shut with a bang, the driver turned his
horses, and in a moment more they had disappeared around the corner of
the square, as they drove up the hill in the direction of the
President's mansion.
It was generally understood by my refugee associates that, as soon as I
was sufficiently recuperated, I would unite with the other Maryland
refugees in the formation of a Confederate company of volunteers. They
had taken me in charge, as it were, and, as they had voluntarily
guaranteed my hotel expenses, I could do no less than to tacitly accept
the situation. Even at that early day there was considerable rivalry in
the matter of securing recruits for the newly-forming organizations of
the Rebel Army. One reason of this was that, in their army as it was in
ours, at the first of the war the commissions were generally given to
those persons who were most active in securing the necessary recruits to
fill out a company's quota. While these two Maryland gentlemen were
quite kind to me and had personally helped me through my sickness, I saw
that their object was not altogether disinterested. In vouching for my
expenses they were perfectly safe themselves, as it was understood that
I should secure the very best bounty that was being paid, and out of
this fund it was known I should be able to pay all my sick bills. So you
will see how it came about that, while my two guardians were busy most
of the day in skirmishing about for their recruits, as well as looking
out for their own prospects for commissions, I was indulged in every
thing that they could at all assist me in, and was in general terms
given the "Freedom of the City."
It became a favorite walk with me on pleasant afternoons to wander out
to the beautiful Hollywood Cemetery, one of the most lovely spots in all
Virginia. Hollywood has been so fully described, even before and after
the war, that I need not attempt it here. With me Hollywood had a
peculiar fascination during my first visit to Richmond, during that
fall of 1861--the "melancholy months of that year." I found myself out
there frequently, nearly always seeking out the one resting place, which
was beautifully situated on the top of the hill, under a grove of large
forest trees, close by the tomb of ex-President Monroe. The view from
this point was superb. Directly underneath the hill, which overhung the
river like a precipice, were the great falls of the James river, the
water of which, coming from the Blue Mountains of Virginia, was
splashing over the thousands of immense rocks standing up from the bed
of the river, making a wildly-beautiful picture, extending for a mile or
two up and down the river. Right beneath the cemetery, but out of sight
of a rambler in the grounds, the railroad bed had been chiseled out of
the hill-side rocks. Trains could continually be heard rolling and
whistling along, which I knew went near my friends in a few hours at
Manassas and Fredericksburg. Near this, on the water's edge, were
located the immense Tredegar Iron Works, upon which the Confederate
Government depended almost entirely for their supply of manufactured
iron, and I believe they were also turning out at the time some large
cannon for their fortifications and ships. I remember that I was
impressed at the time, from overhearing a debate in the Confederate
Congress, that the loss or destruction of the Tredegar Works early in
the war would have been one of the most terrible blows that could have
been inflicted upon their cause, and I had embodied this statement in
one of my "dispatches."
One evening a brass band paraded the streets, gathering up quite a crowd
of followers. Always anxious to see everything that was going on, and a
lover of brass music, I "joined in" with the crowd and marched along
with the band. We halted in front of the largest hotel in Richmond at
that time--the Spottsword--since burned down--but then located on Main
street. On inquiring, I learned that the excitement was occasioned by
the recent arrival in Richmond of the Hon. John C. Breckinridge,
recently the Vice-President of the United States and Pro-Slavery
candidate for President. It will be remembered that there had been for
quite a long time considerable doubt or uncertainty as to which side of
the fence Mr. Breckinridge would eventually jump. He had remained in
Washington City up to a very short time previous to his arrival in
Richmond. One of the facts brought out during his speech that night, in
answer to the serenade, was, that he was still a member of the United
States Senate, he having so arranged it that his resignation would not
take effect until he was safe inside of the Confederacy. I remember this
portion of his talk very well, because at the time it impressed me as
being very mean for a man of his standing, who had been so highly
honored and trusted by his Government, to pretend so long to be neutral,
yet knowing all the time in his heart of the purpose to gather
information and then desert and betray his Government. I felt in my
heart then that the numerous Southern gentlemen who held official
positions and violated their oaths that they might betray their
Governments, were cowardly spies whose methods were to be execrated, and
anything I could do to frustrate them would be honorable in comparison
with their service.
Another point of interest is the "old stone house," which is situated on
Main street within a square of the Libby Warehouses. This old stone
building, with the curled oak shingles on the roof, was General
Washington's headquarters.
We will pass the Colonial and Indian periods, the wars of 1776, 1812,
1846-9 with this one sentence, and hasten up the Main street about a
mile to headquarters of the Commander-in-Chief of the war of 1861-65.
From the windows of my room I had a close view of the City Hall building
directly opposite, which fronted on Broad street.
One morning I observed an unusual excitement on the street in front of
the City Hall. They were apparently preparing for what we would have
thought up North was to be a bonfire. Of course I became an interested
looker-on, but was almost afraid to ask any questions lest I should hear
some bad news. I feared that the Rebels were about to celebrate some
victory over our armies, when I saw them pile in the middle of the
street a great heap of kindling wood.
The gray-headed man who was then the Mayor of the City was apparently
overseeing these preparations.
I had been in the habit of sleeping late, and while all this was going
on outside I was alternately dressing myself and running to the window
to watch the proceedings.
Without waiting for breakfast, I went out on to the street to
investigate. The first person I questioned happened to be the hotel
proprietor, who said, laughingly:
"Oh, they are just burning the gamblers' stuff that the police captured
on the last raid."
It seemed that Richmond had, and has yet, a law that compels, or at
least authorizes, their Judge of Police Court to destroy by public fire
in the open street any material or paraphernalia which has been used, or
intended to be used, for gambling purposes.
The Mayor of Richmond in 1861 was a Mr. Mayo. He was certainly an
efficient official, as some of the Maryland refugees will bear
testimony.
Extra Billy Smith, who I think had been a Governor of Virginia, was one
evening put into our room to sleep, the hotel being quite crowded, it
being the occasion of some Virginia State gathering. He was full of talk
and kept our crowd aroused and interested until late in the night.
He was living, I believe, somewhere in the neighborhood of where the
armies were confronting each other.
One of his stories, which interested me more than anything else,
referred to the death of the brother of the Secretary of War, Colonel
Cameron, of the 79th New York Regiment, at Bull Run.
The body of Colonel Cameron, it seems, had been found after the battle
inside of the Rebel lines.
The news of his death having reached the Secretary of War--the Hon.
Simon Cameron--he was, of course, very anxious to have the remains sent
back into the Union line for proper burial in his own State.
At that time there was a serious question about the recognition in any
official form of the Confederate States of America. It was necessary
that the Secretary of War should address a request in some form to an
officer in the Confederate Army, requesting the "courtesy" of burying
the remains of his brother at home. With Extra Billy Smith it was a
question of "curtesy" to the Confederates, and he related with great
gusto the amusement the Secretary of War's request for his dead
brother's body caused in the Confederate officers' quarters, because it
was addressed--"To whom it may concern." Mr. Cameron probably had
nothing to do with the formation of the note or request, and it is
likely that whoever did it for him was obliged to adopt this, simply
because they were ignorant of the names of the proper persons in the
Confederate Army to whom it should have been addressed. At any rate, it
was a very contemptible piece of work to reply to the Secretary of War
that: "The officers of the Confederate States of America did not know
that his note, addressed 'To whom it may concern,' concerned anybody but
himself."
I made a mental note of Extra Billy's share in this business, determined
that old Simon should have him marked.
I presume that about the same general condition of things existed in
Washington as in Richmond at the time I was there. There were
undoubtedly Rebel spies, and plenty of them, running around loose in
Washington, not only at that particular time, but constantly during the
years of war which immediately followed.
The Confederates had a very great advantage over us in this regard.
Washington City and the Departments were literally full of their
sympathizers, who were able to carry on their work of assisting to
destroy the Government, which was at the same time feeding them, as they
were able to keep up an easy and safe communication through the country
about.
Some of these Department Rebel spies remained in the Union Government
service not only throughout the war, but even now, after twenty-five
years of Republican Administration, are yet in the government service.
In Richmond and the country adjacent it was entirely different. If there
were any sympathizers with the Union cause they were known and closely
watched, and this was not a troublesome task for the Confederates, as
there was not enough of it to occupy much of their attention. As a rule,
the colored people were friendly to us, but they were at that time all
poor, frightened, ignorant slaves, who dare not, under penalty of the
most severe whipping, indicate by the slightest sign that they had any
interest in a Union man.
The colored people in Richmond were forbidden to assemble in any number
together. If a half-dozen slaves would accidentally get together to talk
over the matters of life and liberty, that were so dear to them, it was
the duty of any white citizen to order them to disperse. It is not
generally known, and may be even doubted by the present generation of
Virginians, that there was such a law, but it is a fact. Colored men
were not permitted into the Capitol Square at certain times, being
excluded by the same municipal law that applied to stray dogs.
It is but just to say that this rule did not apply to Richmond alone,
but to Washington as well. In 1861, and previous to the war, the colored
boys and girls, as they were all called, even though they were
grandfather and mother, were not allowed to enter the Capitol or
President's grounds at Washington. They were only permitted to peer
through the bars of the great iron fence that then surrounded the
grounds.
Every day, as regular as my meal-time occurred, I walked over into the
Capitol Square and took my accustomed seat on the bench which gave me
such good opportunities to see every person who entered President Jeff
Davis' office, as well as a chance to observe the crowd that attended
the proceedings in the Capitol building.
I did not give their Congress very much attention, because their
business seemed to be to talk only. I was interested only in the War
Office, and especially in President Davis.
The Virginia Legislature was also in session at the Capitol. We had a
room-mate with us for several days who was a member of the State
Legislature from somewhere in the mountain district. Our Maryland
refugee, friend Elkton, and this Virginia delegate, who was inclined to
doubt the power of the President as compared with that of the Governor
of Virginia, were continually discussing the question among themselves
at night after we had all gotten to bed, very much to the disgust of the
Colonel and myself.
Governor Letcher seemed at the time to be a "bigger man" in Richmond
than Jeff Davis. The Governor occupied an elegant mansion, which is
beautifully situated in one corner of the Capitol grounds, while
President Davis' "White House" was a large red brick building, situated
right on the street, a few squares back of the Capitol, with only a
small yard for grounds. It is a double house or a square building, with
a hall through the middle and a number of rooms on each side. It was
beautifully located in what may be called an independent position. I
mean by this that there were no other houses immediately adjoining, but
a yard or lot on each side as well as the rear. This lot or garden was
enclosed by a brick wall.
I frequently strolled up there to get a glimpse of the President, whom I
considered to be in my care and keeping, to a certain extent, so that I
learned to know his habits or hours of arriving and leaving the house.
I am not competent to make a pen portrait of Mr. Davis. He appeared to
me at Montgomery and at Richmond in 1861 as quite a pleasant, but
ordinary looking gentleman of middle age. He was usually dressed in dark
gray clothes of the frock coat or Prince Albert pattern. I think
ordinarily in a dark steel gray. His face was rather thin; the jaws
being firmly set gave him rather a dyspeptic appearance.
Jeff Davis has only one eye, which fact I learned quite early, and I
always endeavored in my intercourse with the President to keep on the
blind side of him. The one good eye was bright enough at that time, and
I almost felt from his sharp glances toward me that he suspected me.
One day it was reported that the President would review a regiment of
North Carolina cavalry which was then organizing and had been in camp at
the Fair Grounds. This was a long walk for me, but I had become
sufficiently strong to undertake almost anything--at least I so
felt--and as it would never do to miss this opportunity to see Jeff
Davis in a military capacity, I started out to the Fair Grounds early in
the day reaching there a couple of hours before the review was announced
to take place, and sat down under the shade of the fence to watch and
wait. The cavalrymen and their officers were busy cleaning up their
horses and dressing up for the occasion. One troop was drilling on a
distant part of the field.
At the proper time the entire regiment were mounted, and, after a good
deal of coaxing, and some cussing, they were formed into long lines,
which a full regiment of horse makes.
The Colonel of this regiment was the present Senator from North
Carolina, Hon. M. W. Ransom. I heard some of the lookers-on among the
crowd, in which I had placed myself, say: "The officer did not dare
attempt manoeuvering the cavalrymen, because they were all green
tar-heels from North Carolina, mounted on fresh horses, and if they
would get out of the line, in which they were placed with so much
difficulty, there would be such a circus, or hippodrome, in the Fair
Grounds that we would all have to climb the fence for safety."
We waited patiently and in crowds all the afternoon for the President to
come. It was until after his office hours, or about five o'clock P. M.,
that a half-dozen horsemen rode through the gate, and, amidst a blast
from a dozen buglers, the President and staff trotted up to the front.
To return the salute due the President we have pretty nearly all been
through an inspection, and know how it ought to be done, so I need not
attempt to describe it here.
President Davis and his staff, dressed in plain, citizens' clothes, rode
along the front of the line, his one sharp eye seeming to take in every
man from horses' hoofs to their caps. He turned slowly around to the
rear of the line, and rode close to where I happened to be standing at
the time, and to this day I remember the sudden, sharp glance as his eye
caught mine. Perhaps it was imagination or a guilty conscience that gave
me the feeling at the time, but, whatever it was, I felt a shock.
After the ordinary forms of a review had been gone through with, to the
accompaniment of a half a dozen or so bugles, the President and his
party dismounted and held an informal reception to the officers and the
crowd at the Colonel's headquarters.
I did not stay for this reception, because I was not, after that glance,
particularly anxious to see Jeff at close quarters. I started back to
the city on foot. I had gotten almost into town when I heard the
Presidential party coming along the road behind me. As they came up, I
stopped and was standing alone by the side of the road as President Jeff
Davis passed. He was then talking pleasantly with some one who was
riding along side of him. Seeing me, Mr. Davis turned away around,
probably so his good eye could get me in range, and gave me another
look, that pretty nearly convinced me that he had recognized in me the
Montgomery Spy.
I do not suppose he gave the subject another thought, if he had at all
entertained it, but I was made quite uncomfortable by the incident,
which served to put me on my guard. I was becoming too careless.
Indeed, I went to Libby so often that I began to get acquainted with a
couple of the Rebel guards, who had a little camp on some vacant lots on
the opposite side of the street.
I had noticed that a few enlisted men from among our prisoners had been
detailed by the Rebel officers to carry water and otherwise wait upon
or assist in preparing the rations for the Union prisoners. Of course
these men were always accompanied by a home guard, in gray clothes, who
carried a loaded gun.
[Illustration: I WHISPERED TO HIM AS I WENT PAST: "NORFOLK IS TAKEN."]
I had formed a rather foolish notion that it would be a great
satisfaction to our prisoners if I could open communication with them,
or, at least, that it would gratify them to let them know they had a
friend who was at liberty in this city and anxious to serve them.
I gave this up after one trial. One day while loitering in that
neighborhood, as usual, I passed on the pavement the customary Rebel
guard accompanying a couple of fellows who carried a bucket of water in
each hand.
It was about the time that Norfolk was taken by the Union troops, and,
as it had been the only piece of good news that I had heard for so long,
I was feeling quite elated over even that much, so, when I saw this
procession of water-carriers coming up the street, I impulsively
concluded at once to convey that information to our poor fellows inside
the warehouse.
They had stopped and set down their buckets to rest. Picking out a big,
good-natured looking fellow in the blue clothes, who was one of the
water-carriers, to experiment on, I walked up to him; without stopping
at all or even looking at him, I whispered to him as I went past:
"Norfolk is taken."
Never turning my head, I was walking on hurriedly when the blamed fool
sang out after me so everybody could hear:
"What?"
He didn't hear anything further from me. I had nothing more to say.
Luckily the guard was as stupid as the prisoner, and no notice was taken
of it.
Close by Libby Prison is Rockett's, or the landing point in the river
below the falls for all the shipping that comes up the James river from
the ocean. At these wharves ocean vessels drawing eighteen and twenty
feet landed their cargoes in the piping time of peace. It is one of the
busiest points about the city, but during the blockade, while the Union
troops occupied Fortress Monroe, and subsequently Norfolk and the lower
part of the James river, it was quite dull. There were, I believe, some
gun-boats being fitted out here, and a few smaller-sized vessels were
running irregularly up and down the James as far as they could go,
without encountering their own torpedoes, Union batteries, and
war-ships. My interest in this place was accidentally aroused (as was
Newton's discovery of gravitation by the fall of an apple from a tree)
by the reflection, while listlessly throwing sticks of wood out into the
stream, that they would naturally float into the Union lines in a few
hours--the river that goes on forever certainly reached the Union
gunboats, and I reasoned that if the water went to the Union gun-boats,
that, of course, I could do the same by simply going with the stream.
This was good logic if it was not good sense. I felt that the details
for such a voyage would be easily enough arranged. I gave the matter my
careful study, looking up all the maps that I could find bearing upon
this river, and cautiously questioning every old colored cook, or
seaman, that I could safely run against who had sailed up and down the
river and could give me any information. In this way I was able to learn
by detail pretty closely the location of the Rebel batteries along the
river, and also to ascertain as nearly as was possible just where I
would find a Union gun-boat or battery.
My experience on ships of war at Pensacola had not been exactly
pleasant, but I knew very well that, once at Fortress Monroe, I could be
quickly identified from Washington, and all would be safe enough.
I determined that, when I should return, it would be via the James river
and the bay. I preferred the risk of drowning or being blown up by
torpedoes in the river to another chase over the hills through the Rebel
lines of Manassas, and, as I was in no condition for that long walk that
night, I thought it would be more comfortable to have the water to float
me out of rebellion into the Union and under the old flag.
Governor Letcher, of Virginia, frequently entertained great crowds of
citizens at the elegant mansion provided by the State for her Governor.
It seemed to me that the people of Richmond gave more attention to their
Governor than to President Davis.
I could hear occasionally of some friction between the Confederate
Government and the State Government. Of course, they did not allow this
to become generally known, but there was certainly a good deal of this
feeling at Richmond, even as early as 1861, which increased in
bitterness as the years rolled on.
The State of Virginia had, before the war, a regularly organized
standing army of its own. Of course, there were but a few of these
"regular" troops, who were not at all like the militia of other States,
but a permanent establishment, with a separate uniform of their own, and
under the pay and control of the Governor of the State of Virginia.
These few Virginia troops were distinct from the Confederates. Their
principal duty seemed to be to act as a sort of "Pope's Guard" to
Governor Letcher.
There were always several of them on duty about the Capitol grounds in
the capacity of guards or police; and, as a consequence, there were
numerous conflicts between the Confederate officers and soldiers, who
were quite numerous in the city at that time, with this Governor's
Guard. I saw one altercation which resulted in a shooting and running
match--the Confederate winning over what he termed the "liveried
hireling" Virginia Yankee.
I had been giving the telegraph office a pretty wide berth during the
early part of my stay in Richmond, fearing that I should meet some one
who had known me at Manassas. I began, however, to stop at the large
glass windows of their Main street office, to stare in, like the rest of
the curious loungers who were attracted by the mysterious tickings of
the instruments, which were in sight from the street, the causes of
mysterious movements and sounds of which were at distant points.
In those days operators who could read by sound were not so numerous as
they are now, and it was never thought necessary to attempt to prevent
any person from hearing the sounds of the instruments. I was always very
careful to first scrutinize the faces of all the operators before any of
them should have an opportunity to first see me. As I have previously
stated, an expert operator can read by the sight of the moving armature,
or lever, which makes the sound. This was the way in which I had to
attempt to read those instruments from the pavement on the main street
of Richmond.
To make this plainer to those who are not familiar with the mysteries of
the telegraph, I will explain that the right and left motions, or
swingings, of the signal flags, which were used in the army, represent
exactly the same principle of reading characters by movement. This can
be done through even so small a space as that usually taken by a ticking
lever of a telegraph instrument, and its operation may be as light and
quick in its action as the hand of a watch.