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SECRETS OF THE LATE REBELLION, NOW REVEALED FOR THE FIRST TIME.
By J. R. Freese
Philadelphia: Crombargar & Co.
1882
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CHAPTERS:
CHAPT I. INTRODUCTORY.
This not a General History of the War, but of Special Incidents
not Heretofore Published--Most of the Actors Gone--Whence the Facts
Contained in this Volume--Changes Since the War--Facts Herein Mostly
New--Old Facts used as Frames and Canvas; New Facts as Pictures--All
Reliable--Fabian Policy and Masterly Diplomacy--Written Without
Prejudice, and from an Historic Standpoint Only
CHAPT II. RUNNING THE LAND BLOCKADE. KING COTTON BEHIND THE SCENES.
Meeting of Confederate Congress--Their Acts--President Davis's
Proclamation--President Lincoln's Counter Proclamation--Second Meeting
of Confederate Congress--Message and Acts--Third Meeting of Confederate
Congress, at Richmond--Message and Acts--President Buchanan's
Administration.--Lincoln Inaugurated President--His Cabinet--Call ' for
Troops--Strength of Blockade Squadron--Extra Session of United
States Congress--Message and Acts--Attempt at Liverpool to Break
Blockade--English Blockade-Runners--New York, Philadelphia, and
Baltimore Blockade-Runners--Business at Wilmington, N. C.--Northern
Sympathizers with the South--Quotations from Kattell and from Macaulay
Applied to Condition of United States Government.....29
CHAPT III. ESTABLISHING STATIONS--FIRST TRIP AND FIRST PASSENGERS.
BRAINS AND CAUTION SHIFTING THE SCENES.
Battle of Gettysburg--The Outside and the Inside View of that
Battle--Things Known Behind the Scenes--Communication Between North
and South Nearly Closed--Necessity the Mother of Invention--President
Davis's Plan for Opening New Route--How it was Done--Who the Conductors,
and how Managed--Who Kept Way-stations, and how Paid--Guides, Engineers,
Brakemen, and how Paid--Depot in Washington--Special Agents in
Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York--First Letters by New
Line, and to Whom--The Baltimore Cotton Ring--The Philadelphia Cotton
Ring--The New York Cotton Ring--Heads and Directors of Each--Lamb and
Waddell First Passengers on New Line--Difficulties and Amusing Incidents
of their Trip Across the Lines and Through the Confederate States--Their
Return--Report to Cotton Rings--Results
CHAPT IV. ANOTHER CONDUCTOR ON THE NEW LINE. CAUTION SLIDING THE
SCENES.
Colonel Killgore Conductor on New Line--His Former Services
and Character--His First Service as Conductor--Recognized in
Baltimore--Alarm, and Happy Termination--Again Recognized by One of
Baker's Secret Detectives--Shoots Detective on the Spot--Serves Till
Line Closes--Returns to Charleston--Opens Law-Office--One of the First
Men of the State
CHAPT V. NOBILITY AFTER THE NUGGETS. DIPLOMACY PROMPTING THE ACTORS.
Cotton and Gold Markets in 1863--What They Indicated--Great Divorce
Trial--Arguments on Both Sides--First Confederate Loan--By whom
Taken--Arrival in New York of Lord Brew-erton--His Conference with
President McLane--Goes to Baltimore, and whom he Meets--Then on
to Washington--Scene in Ben. Beveridge's Saloon--Then to English
Embassy--Remains with Lord Lyons--Concludes to go South--How he
Goes--His Disguise--Hiding in Negro Hut--Midnight Ride Behind a
Blind Mule, in a Two-wheel Dirt Cart--How he Gets Through the Union
Lines--Arrival in Richmond--Stops with President Davis--Grand Ball at
Executive Mansion in Honor of Lord Brewerton--The Dresses of, and
who Present--Trip Through Confederate States--His Report to President
Davis--Returns to Washington--Attends President Lincoln's Levee with
Confederate Officer--Reports to Philadelphia and New York Cotton
Rings--Returns to England--Other English Lords in the Confederate
States--Sons of Peers in the Confederate Army--All After the Gold
Nuggets
CHAPT VI. IN TIGHT PLACES AND OUT SHREWDNESS PULLING THE WIRES.
Other Incidents in Running the Land Blockade--Mr. Danger-field a
Passenger--His Strange Experiences--Mr. Willis a Passenger, and
his Experiences--One of the Conductors Arrested as a Spy--How he
Escapes--Senator Johnson in a Bad Fix--How he Got Out--No Ill-will
Towards Perpetrators
CHAPT VII. PRISONERS, HOW USED AND HOW ABUSED. CRAFT AND CRUELTY
PROMPTING THE ACTORS.
Bounty Jumpers, by whom and how Encouraged--Richmond Diplomacy, and how
Put in Practice--Bounty Jumpers Specially Well Treated--Treatment
of Other Union Prisoners at Libby Prison--At Castle Thunder--At
Salisbury--At Ander-sonville--Related by an Eye-Witness
CHAPT VIII. GUERILLAS ON THE WAR-PATH. CUNNING AND DUPLICITY PROMPTING
THE ACTORS. DESTRUCTION IN THE BACKGROUND.
"Moseby's Cavalry," how Organized and how Operated--Startling Facts
Never Before Published--Four Persons Bound with Chains, and then
Burned with Storehouse and Contents--Stealing of a Horse from
Lieutenant-Colonel Phillips--A "Dunk-ard" Murdered for his
Money--Paymaster Tilletson Gobbled Up--Six Union Officers about to
be Hung by Moseby's Guerillas, and how Saved--Three Officers Stripped
Naked, and Turned Out to Perish--How Rescued--Murder of
Cavalry Prisoners After Surrender--Grant and Sheridan's Plan of
Retribution--Terrible Results
CHAPT IX. WHAT BECAME OF SLAVES DURING AND AFTER THE WAR. THE ALMIGHTY
DOLLAR PROMPTING THE ACTORS. "WE NEBER SEED'em ANY MORE."
Number of Slaves Before the War--Number After--What Became of them
During and After the War--Droves to Texas--Shiploads to Brazil and
Cuba--How the Trade was Carried On--Kidnapping After the War--Northern
and Southern Consciences
CHAPT X. THE CONFEDERACY AS SEEN FROM WITHIN. PRIDE, PASSION, AND WANT
IN THE BACKGROUND.
Suffering in the South During the War, Related by Those who were
Behind the Scenes--Fair Outside Show Kept Up--Going Sixty Miles for One
Wagon-load of Provisions--Twenty-Five Boxes of Tobacco for One Bag
of Coffee--Gambling Saloons in Richmond--By whom Frequented, and
why--Fortune Made on Pins and Needles--Dogs and Cats at a
Premium--Party Antagonisms--Congressman Shot Dead on Floor of House,
in Richmond--Jealousies About Appointments--Terrible Condition of
Currency--Five Dollars for a "Drink," and Ten for a Breakfast, at
"Ballard House," Richmond
CHAPT XI. HOW ORDER WAS MAINTAINED. KINDNESS AND POWER (HAND-IN-HAND)
BEHIND THE SCENES.
Alexandria, Va., Before and During the War--Its Capture, and the
Consequences--Military Governor and Provost-Court--The Organization and
Business of the Court--Trial of a Secessionist for Assault upon a Union
Man--Fined Five Hundred Dollars--Appeal to General McClellan--Remedy
Complete--No Similar Cases Afterwards
CHAPT XII. JUDGE FREESE'S "BAYONET COURT." OTHER POWERS, AND HOW
EXERCISED.
Reports in Northern Journals about Court--Nothing for Show, All
for Necessity--Threats of Assassination--Insults to Officers and
Sentinels--How Remedied--Arrest of Episcopal Clergyman--Conscience not
to be Interfered with--Attempt to Burn Church--How Prevented--Terrible
Cruelty to Slaves--Parties Arrested and Tried--Sentence, and its Effect
upon the Community--Power of Court Recognized--No like Cases after that
CHAPT XIII. LOYALTY versus DISLOYALTY. PREJUDICE AND SELF-INTEREST
PROMPTING THE ACTORS.
The Different Definitions given to the word Loyalty--A Third Class
Professing Loyalty to Both, but Loyal to Neither--Aptly Portrayed by
Macaulay--Cases before the Provost-Court--Mr. E. for Giving "Aid and
Comfort" to the Enemy--Sentence--Concerts by Hutchinson Family--Forbid
by General McClellan--Sustained by Judge Freese--Great Excitement--The
Court Sustained--Loyalty Triumphant
CHAPT XIV. DISLOYALTY AS AFFECTING THE RIGHTS OF PROPERTY. ERROR AND
PREJUDICE PROMPTING THE ACTORS.
New Class of Cases before the Court--Abandoned Property--How Regarded by
Union Men and Secessionists--General Montgomery and Judge Freese's
Views on this Question--Attempt to Take a Piano--Amicable Trial of the
Case--Decision of the Court--Confiscation and Sequestration Acts,
How Construed by the Court--Happy Termination of Case and End of like
Troubles
CHAPT XV. A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. JUSTICE SHIFTING SCENES AND
PROMPTING ACTORS.
Another Class of Cases before the Court--Two Hundred Million Dollars
Owed by Southern to Northern Merchants--Philadelphia and New York
Creditors after Alexandria Debtors--Debtors in Richmond, Goods
in Alexandria--Cases taken up by Provost-Court--Rules of
Procedure--Principles Involved--Decision of the Court--Justice
Triumphant
CHAPT XVI. LEGAL TECHNICALITIES IN CONFLICT WITH COMMON SENSE. ANOTHER
ACT IN THE DRAMA--PRIDE ON ONE SIDE AND JUSTICE ON THE OTHER PROMPTING
THE ACTORS.
Nothing so Uncommon as Common Sense--Cases Illustrative--Efforts among
Secessionists and Disloyalists to Close the Provost-Court--President
Lincoln's Answer--Secretary Cameron's Answer--Applications to
Attorney-General Bates and Postmaster-General Blair--Conference
between President Lincoln and Judge Freese--Between Bates, Cameron, and
Freese--General McClellan Brought in--His Aid-de-Camp Calls upon General
Montgomery--The Order and Wishes of General McClellan--Final
Conference between General Montgomery and Judge Freese--The Result--How
Received--What would have been the Results of a Different Policy
CHAPT XVII. FACTS, FIGURES, AND FAIR INFERENCES.
What the Calculations of Abraham Lincoln and his Cabinet were at
the Opening of Hostilities--How and why they were Mistaken in these
Calculations--Facts and Figures from Official Documents to Substantiate
Statements
CHAPT XVIII. WHY THE SOUTH HAS NOT DENOUNCED THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY.
What Keeps the Party Alive--What the Final End of this Republic
CHAPT XIX. HOW COMES IT THAT THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY, WITH SUCH A WEIGHT
OF SIN UPON IT, CAN STILL KEEP ALIVE
This Question Fully and Fairly Answered
CHAPT XX. FROM ALL YOUR STUDY OF HISTORY, WHAT DEDUCTIONS DO YOU DRAW
AS TO THE FINAL DECLINE AND FALL, IF SUCH A THING IS EVER TO BE, OF THIS
REPUBLIC?
This Question Answered by a Review of the History of Other Republics
CHAPT XXI. THE SPARTAN REPUBLIC--ITS RISE AND FALL, AND WHY. THE
ATHENIAN REPUBLIC, AND THE REASON OF ITS FALL. THE THEBAN REPUBLIC, AND
THE CAUSES OF ITS DESTRUCTION.
These Lessons Applied to the American Republic
CHAPT XXII. THE ROMAN REPUBLIC--ITS RISE, GLORY, DECLINE, AND FALL,
AND THE REASON THEREOF.
How the Facts of its History may Serve as Lessons to Ourselves--Our
Immediate Danger, and what the Remedy
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SECRETS OF THE LATE REBELLION.
CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTORY. EXPLANATIONS AND PLEDGES.
|THE "History of the Great Rebellion," as some have called it, or of
"The American Conflict," as others have called it, has been written over
and over--by Greeley, by McClusky, by Abbott, by Kattell, by Pollard,
and by others--and it is not my intention to write it again: but I
Purpose, as Macaulay says in the first two words of that wonderful
History of England in which, by the magic of his pen, he has made facts,
which, until then, had lain only in the brains of old women, in the
traditions of old men, in forgotten newspapers, and in neglected
pamphlets, come forth in all the habiliments of life; some grinning with
merriment, and others frowning with despair--some as angels of heaven,
and others as demons of hell--I Purpose, throughout the whole of this
volume, to write of the sayings and doings of those who, in the great
war between the United States and the "Southern Confederacy," stood in
the side wings, or _behind_ the scenes, as proprietors, as stockholders,
as lessees, as stage managers, as prompters, as scene-shifters, as
curtain-droppers, as wire-pullers, and without whom the acts _before_
the scenes could not have been, and would not have been, enacted.
Many, yea, most of those who attended to their various parts behind
the scenes, while those in front were attending to theirs, have gone to
their long homes. Like the hero of a hundred battles--
"They sleep their last sleep and have fought their last battle,
No sound can awake them to glory again;"
yet a few remain, scattered throughout the North, scattered throughout
the South, in cities, in towns, in offices, in workshops, in negro huts;
and from these, and such as these, we have gathered and now propose to
put on record, the _inner_ or _secret_ history of the greatest war of
the nineteenth century--a war in which more men were engaged, more
deeds of valor done, more lives lost, and during which there was more of
masterly diplomacy exercised, on both sides, than in any war which has
occurred since the days of the Roman empire.
Eighteen years ago! Only three words, uttered in a single breath and
seeming but as yesterday, when looking backward, and yet where is the
tongue that can tell, or the pen that can write all that has transpired
within that time?
Fields made desolate by battles then are now waving with grain, covered
by green swards, or bedecked with flowers; what were then hastily
constructed earthworks are now grassy mounds; covered over with
shrubbery; what then were rifle-pits are now pleasant pathways for man
and beast; cities then burned, or otherwise made desolate through the
ravages of war, have regained more than their former size, beauty, and
commercial prosperity; plantations then laid waste have been restored to
more than their former productiveness; wounds, ghastly, bloody wounds,
then made by shot or shell, or sabre cut, are now so healed that even
the cicatrices are scarcely observable; and, but for vacant chairs in
many households, and too well-filled cemeteries at Arlington Heights, at
Gettysburg, and all over the land, it would be difficult for us now
to realize that a terrible, desolating war had swept over this country
within so short a time as eighteen years.
Time is indeed the great leveller, bringing king and subject, master
and slave, to a common platform; nor is it less the great assuager and
healer. Passions which burned in the breasts of men with the fierceness
of a furnace, eighteen years ago, have so smouldered and died out, that
not even a spark can now be found on the hearthstones of their hearts;
and hence it is that what could not have been told fifteen, ten, or even
five years ago, without the risk of inflaming passions and leading to
greater harm than good, may now be told without the slightest objection
either from actors or subjects. In history, as in law, there are
_statutes of limitation_, and when these bounds are once passed, all
that occurred previous to those dates is wiped from the record of
_personal_ responsibility, and becomes the property of the historian.
Most, if not all, of the facts which I purpose to incorporate in this
history will be new--that is, such as have never been published before.
They have been known, of course, to the actors and to a few confidential
friends, and vague hints of their existence have found their way in
newspapers from time to time; but never before have they reached the
public eye or ear in book form; nor would they now, but for the fact
that the limitation of responsibility has so far passed, that no
possible harm can come from their publicity. To make the new facts
intelligible as to time and bearing, old facts will, in some cases,
have to be repeated, but in all such cases the old facts will be but the
frames, while the new facts will be the pictures.
Though we are not at liberty in all cases to give the sources of our
information, yet no one need question the substantial correctness of
every statement found in this volume, though it may occasionally happen
that names have been given incorrectly or misspelled, or that the dates
are not precise. To remember names and dates is not easy for any one,
and that, after a lapse of fifteen years, some of these should have been
partially or entirely forgotten by some of our informants, is not at all
strange. Of course we can only give the statements as received. Most of
them we have had direct from the lips of those who were participants in
the scenes, others from official sources, that is, from those who were
in, or directly connected with, governmental departments; others, from
hints given at the time, but the details of which could not be stated
until the prejudices and passions of the war had subsided; and still
others, from those who had them from the lips of the participants.
Some of the facts and incidents hereafter to be related are but new
manifestations of the Fabian policy, and however unfair they would have
seemed to Northern people had they been known at the time, yet now, few,
if any, will regard them other than as acts of masterly diplomacy upon
the part of Mr. Davis and his cabinet. But for this policy, the Southern
Confederacy would have had to succumb at least two years before it did;
and, on the principle that "while there is life there is hope," the
longer they could prolong the contest the more to their credit. The
relative strength of the North and South, at the beginning of the war,
may be fairly represented by the numbers 20 and 10. Now take one off
from each at five successive engagements, and the figures will stand 15
and 5. Before, the smaller equalled the one-half of the larger number,
now it equals only the one-third. Again take one off from each at four
more engagements, and the figures will stand 11 and 1--the smaller
representing only the one-eleventh part of the larger, while one more
engagement wipes out the smaller number entirely, and yet leaves the
one-half of the larger. From this plain mathematical statement it will
be seen how important it was for the Southern Confederacy to pursue the
Fabian policy of delay, both as to its operations in the field, and in
its diplomacy with English and Northern capitalists.
The learning of these "_Secrets of the Late Rebellion_" has had the
effect to increase, rather than lessen, our admiration of Jefferson
Davis as a statesman, and such we think will be the effect upon all
who may read this book. However much we may condemn his political
principles, however much we may condemn the rebellion, and however
rejoiced we may be that he and it failed of success, yet, now that we
know of the secret as well as the open difficulties with which he had
to contend, we cannot but admire the talent, the energy, and the
perseverance with which he overcame them all for months and years; and
at last only yielded to necessities which no foresight, no talent, no
energy could have overcome.
Nor is he the only one of the "Lost Cause" whom these "Secrets" make
us to admire the more. Others, many others, as will be seen by the
following chapters, acted their parts nobly and well, and deserve more
credit than has ever yet been accorded to them by the historian; while
others whose secret fiendish acts are herein recorded, acted worse, a
thousandfold worse, than the public ever knew or probably would have
known but for the appearance of this volume.
In putting on record the following facts and incidents of the war, my
aim shall be to view everything from a historic standpoint only. As a
Northern man, and as a late officer in the army, my partisanship and
prejudices during the war were doubtless as strong as those of any
other man; but so far as I know my own heart, not a particle of that
partisanship or prejudice now remains, and I believe that I can write of
both sides with equal impartiality. In relating the incidents, I may
not have occasion to express any opinion at all for or against; but if
I should, my readers may rest assured that it will be done without a
particle of prejudice. With these explanations, and these pledges, I am
now ready to begin the relation of facts and incidents as they occurred
_Behind the Scenes_ during the late War. J. R. F.
MONTGOMERY, ALA., BEFORE THE WAR.
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CHAPTER II. RUNNING THE LAND BLOCKADE. KING COTTON BEHIND THE SCENES.
|ON the 4th of February, 1861, the Confederate Congress met at
Montgomery, Ala. It was composed of nine delegates from Alabama,
three from Florida, ten from Georgia, six from Louisiana, seven
from Mississippi, three from North Carolina, seven from South
Carolina--forty-five in all.
They adopted the old Constitution of the United States, with
the exception of five clauses. The first was a change in the
preamble--making the States named, other than "We the people," the
contracting parties; the second change related to the "importation of
African negroes," etc.; the third related to the escape and delivery of
slaves; the fourth related to adjusting disputes between the contracting
States; the fifth empowered Congress to "lay and collect taxes, duties,
imposts, etc." The Constitution, as amended, was adopted February
8th, and on the same day Jefferson Davis, of Mississippi, was elected
President, and Alexander H. Stephens, of Georgia, Vice-President, by a
unanimous vote.
On the 18th of February Mr. Davis was inaugurated, and immediately after
he nominated, and Congress confirmed, the following cabinet:
Secretary of State...............................Robert Toombs.
Secretary of the Treasury....................C. G. Memminger.
Secretary of War................................L. Pope Walker.
This same Congress authorized a loan of fifteen million dollars, secured
by an export duty on cotton, and passed an act "To modify the navigation
laws, and to repeal all discriminating duties on ships and vessels"--by
which the entire coasting trade from Charleston to Galveston was thrown
open to the British flag. Had English capitalists framed the law, they
could not have made it to please themselves better.
On the 17th of April, 1861, President Davis issued a proclamation
offering to grant letters of marque and reprisal to aid the Southern
Confederacy in resisting what he called "the wanton and wicked
aggressions" of the United States government.
To this President Lincoln immediately responded by issuing a
proclamation, dated April 19th, declaring the Southern ports in a state
of blockade.
The Congress of the Southern Confederacy assembled at Montgomery again
on the 29th of April, 1861. President Davis, in his message, advised the
immediate passage of a law authorizing the acceptance of proposals
for privateers. He denounced the proclamation of President Lincoln
in relation to Southern ports as a mere paper blockade. "The loan
authorized," he said, "had been promptly taken (by whom, or on what
terms, he did not say); and that a much larger amount had now become
necessary to defray the expenses of the war," etc., etc.
This Congress authorized President Davis to issue letters of marque and
reprisal, and prescribed regulations for the conduct of privateers. It
also passed an act prohibiting the export of cotton or cotton yam from
any of the Confederate States, except through their own seaports, under
a penalty of forfeiture of the cotton, a fine of five thousand dollars,
and six months' imprisonment. It further proposed that the planters
should be invited to put their crops into the hands of the government,
and accept Confederate bonds for their value. On the 20th of May, 1861,
this Congress adjourned, to reassemble at Richmond, Va., in two months.
On the 20th of July, 1861, the Confederate Congress reassembled at
Richmond. Meanwhile the cabinet had been enlarged as follows:
Secretary of the Navy...........S. R. Mallory, of Florida.
Postmaster-General...............J. H. Reagan, of Texas.
Attorney-General.................J. P. Benjamin, of Louisiana.
This Congress included sixty-eight members, of whom fifteen were
from Virginia, ten from North Carolina, nine from Alabama, three from
Florida, ten from Georgia, six from Louisiana, seven from Mississippi,
eight from South Carolina.
President Davis stated in his message that "fifty million dollars had
been subscribed in cotton," and that "late crops had been abundant."
Among the first acts of this reassembled Congress was to adopt the
convention of Paris in 1856, in respect to maritime law, whereby the
wishes of Great Britain were acceded to in all respects. This was, in
effect, that enemies' goods should be respected in neutral ships, and
that privateering should be abolished in time of war. The United States
government had demurred to these propositions, for reasons ably stated
at the time by Secretary Marcy, and afterwards reaffirmed by Secretary
Seward. Had they become a part of national law, Great Britain could have
taken every bale of cotton from the ports of the Southern Confederacy
without let or hindrance. So far as the Confederacy was concerned, this
act of their Congress gave full consent; but the United States still
objected, nor had the propositions been concurred in by all other
nations. This same Congress empowered President Davis to appoint two
commissioners, with full powers, to proceed to Great Britain and other
European countries, to negotiate a recognition of the Southern
Confederacy, and, if practicable, make treaties of commerce.
Having thus briefly stated the organization, the acts, and the position
of the Southern Confederacy with regard to financial and cotton
questions--the only questions now under consideration--we will next
trace the acts of the United States government bearing upon the same
questions.
When the Confederate Congress first met at Montgomery, Mr. Buchanan
still occupied the Presidential chair at Washington; but he had done
nothing to interfere with the organization of the Southern Confederacy,
nor, in his view of the case, had he any power or authority to
interfere. One month after, on the 4th of March, 1861, Abraham Lincoln,
of Illinois, was inaugurated President, Hannibal Hamlin, of Maine,
Vice-President, and immediately after the cabinet of Mr. Lincoln was
formed as follows:
Secretary of State....................Wm. H. Seward, of New York.
Secretary of the Treasury.........S. P. Chase, of Ohio.
Secretary of War.....................Simon Cameron, of Penna.
Secretary of the Navy..............Gideon Wells, of Conn.
Secretary of the Interior...........Caleb B. Smith, of Ind.
Postmaster-General.................Montgomery Blair, of Md.
Attorney-General.....................Edward Bates, of Mo.
After the inauguration of President Lincoln, the United States Senate
remained in session until the 28th of March, occupied most of the time
with confirmations.
Immediately after the attack upon Fort Sumter, April 14th, 1861,
President Lincoln issued a call for 75,000 troops; called an extra
session of Congress to meet on the 4th of July following, and on the
19th of April, as heretofore stated, issued a proclamation declaring all
the Southern ports in a state of blockade. The blockading squadron on
the Atlantic coast, on the 4th of July, 1861, consisted of twenty-two
vessels, with 290 guns and 3300 men, under command of flag-officer
Stringham. The Gulf squadron, at the same time, consisted of twenty-one
vessels, with 282 guns and 3500 men, under flag-officer Mervin.
[Illustration: 0037]
This Congress authorized a loan of $ 170,000,000; but made no effort at
all to negotiate a loan abroad, as it was well understood that English
capitalists were passively hostile to the war, and, so far as they could
consistently, favored the Southern Confederacy. With them cotton was
king, and from the first moment of its life the Southern Confederacy did
what it could to increase the love between King Cotton and his British
admirers. Indeed, it was felt all over the North (and hoped for in the
South) that there was some danger of European interference, since
the desire for cotton, the eagerness for free trade, and the hope of
immediate gain might prompt to an interference which the aristocratic
element of Great Britain, and the friends of despotism in France, would
have rejoiced to see undertaken.
Not long after the United States government had given notice to other
nations of the blockading of Southern ports, efforts were made to break
or disregard it. Liverpool merchants claimed that, under the treaty
between this country and Great Britain, they had the right to enter any
port of the United States, and that the attempt to enforce the blockade
against British ships was an infringement of national law. The English
government having already recognized the blockade as a belligerent
right, the British minister in reply told the Liverpool merchants that
"if any British ship, being a neutral, knowingly attempts to break an
effective blockade, she is liable to capture and condemnation."
Notwithstanding this notification, scores of British merchants resolved
to take the risk of running the blockade, because of the immense profits
to be made therefrom. To buy cotton for ten cents, and then sell it
for thirty cents, per pound, and then to pay the ten cents in arms,
accoutrements, and other English manufactured goods, on which they could
make a profit of at least one hundred per cent., were opportunities
which seldom occurred, and which, in-their estimation, would justify
great risks. Nor were British merchants the only ones who took this view
of the case, as the sequel of this history will show. The merchants and
other moneyed men of New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore were just as
eager for the "almighty dollar," and were quite as ready to take risks
to obtain it. The risk was lessened from the fact that the coast to be
guarded extended over three thousand miles; that the number of vessels
to guard it (heretofore given) were but few in proportion to the length
of coast; and that the Southern Confederacy was as anxious to have them
bring their goods and take their cotton in exchange, as English and
Northern merchants 'were to do it. Every Confederate fort and every
Confederate soldier was ready to render all the aid possible to every
blockade runner, no matter whether from London, Liverpool, Nassau, New
York, Philadelphia, or Baltimore. As an evidence of the extent to which
trade by blockade running was carried on, it has been estimated that the
amount of ships and cargoes sent in by English capitalists to the
one port of Wilmington, N. C., from January, 1863, to December, 1864,
amounted to $66,000,000. What, meanwhile, was the extent of trade
between Wilmington and other Southern ports with New York, Philadelphia,
and Baltimore capitalists is not known, but probably as great, if not
greater, than with English capitalists.
Another fact, which greatly contributed to blockade running and other
clandestine trade, was that all through the North there were warm
sympathizers with the South--some of whom had been born in the South,
others had relatives and friends there, others had had extensive
business relations with Southern men, and still others sympathized with
the South from a political standpoint--each and all of whom were ready
to help the South in any way they could; and yet to save themselves from
censure, if not from arrest, felt obliged to call themselves "Union"
men. These men were everywhere, and often where least suspected.
Kattell, in his "History of the Great Rebellion," in writing of the
difficulties under which President Lincoln's administration labored
for the first few months, says: "The diplomatic corps abroad and the
incumbents of office at the North were most of them inclined to thwart
the action of the new administration, and in their train was a large
number of active men on whom the government could not depend, if it had
no opposition to encounter. The new administration found itself thus
completely in the power of the secession party, and all its secrets,
from the cabinet debates to the details of orders, were known to the
South. The bureaus of the departments, the judiciary, the army and navy,
and the offices were all filled with persons who were eagerly watching
to catch up and transmit every item of information that might aid the
Confederates, or thwart the government."
The above is true so far as it goes, but it is only a very small part
of the whole truth--not the one hundredth part of what we now know to be
true, some parts of which will be told in the following pages.
Macaulay's description of the condition of England, immediately
preceding the signing of the treaty of Rys-wick, portrays the condition
of the United States government during a portion, if not during the
whole time of the war, quite as well as if written for the purpose.
He says: "Her secret enemies had commanded her fleets and armies, had
ministered at her altars, had taught at her universities, had swarmed in
her public offices, had sat in her Parliament, had bowed and fawned in
the bedchamber of her King." The facts and incidents hereafter to be
related will show, in part, and would show wholly, if all were told that
is known, that what Macaulay says of the condition of England from 1689
to 1697, was no less true of the United States from 1861 to 1865.
Of course, all this inured greatly to the benefit of the Southern
Confederacy, but was as greatly detrimental to the United States
government, and at times made final success seem very doubtful, if not
impossible.
[Illustration: 0043]
CHAPTER III. ESTABLISHING STATIONS--FIRST TRIP AND FIRST PASSENGERS.
BRAINS AND CAUTION SHIFTING THE SCENES.
|THE battle of Gettysburg, fought on the 2d and 3d of July, 1863, was
one of the most important, if not _the_ most important, battle of the
whole war. The conflict had now been going on for over two years with
varying success. Each side had used its utmost efforts for success, and
to the general public the end seemed no nearer than in the beginning;
but those behind the scenes saw things in a different light, and
especially was this true of President Davis and his cabinet. While he
and they well understood the advantages of keeping up a fair outside
show, they knew equally well that the proportion of strength had greatly
changed between the North and the South. Commencing with proportions of
two to one (20 to 10) they had reached the proportions of three to one
(15 to 5), and another such battle as that which had just occurred--in
which the losses on both sides were immense, and in which both sides
thought themselves defeated, and were making preparations for retreat on
the day following--would make the disproportion still greater.
They knew, too, that every day made their situation more and more
desperate; that every day increased the effectiveness of the blockade;
that food, clothing, and all the necessaries of life were every day
becoming scarcer; and while they still had almost any quantity of
cotton, they knew the people could not eat that, and unless some new
source of nutrition for the Confederacy could be opened, it must soon
succumb from mere exhaustion. To add still further to the difficulty,
their communication with the North seemed about to be cut off entirely.
Up to that time their letters from their Northern sympathizers, from
England, and from other parts of the world, had reached them through
blockade-runners, mostly by the way of Nassau; but the recent capture of
some of these blockade-runners, and the stricter watch now kept by the
United States blockading squadron, made this source look more and more
doubtful, and certainly less and less reliable.
Mr. Davis, when United States Senator and when Secretary of War, had
credit for brains and great shrewdness; but never did he need them so
much as now, and as "necessity is the mother of invention," the fact
of the need called forth from his fertile brain a plan of domestic
diplomacy which would have done credit to Pitt in his palmiest days.
However good a conception or plan may be, still it is of no use unless
it can be put into execution, and just here was President Davis's
greatest trouble. He had scores of officers about him ready to do his
slightest bidding, but among them all he could think of no one exactly
fitted for the kind of service he then had in view. When in his greatest
distress of mind, walking the floor for hours at a time, thinking,
thinking, thinking, it happened that Colonel Ralph Abercrombie, who was
in command of a Louisiana regiment in General A. P. Hill's corps,
came into Richmond, and, as was his custom, called immediately at the
executive mansion. The Colonel had been known to Mr. and Mrs. Davis
since a boy. Mr. Davis, when Secretary of War, had appointed him to a
lieutenancy in the regular army. Both Mr. and Mrs. Davis were on the
most intimate terms with his widowed mother, and though the Colonel was
now about thirty years of age, they still called him Ralph.
When, on this visit, he observed the President's anxiety, he naturally
inquired the cause, and soon learned from Mr. Davis the outlines of his
plan. The Colonel at once offered his services to put the President's
plan into execution, only suggesting that, instead of opening the route
to Washington via Chesapeake Bay and Leonardstown, Md., he would prefer
a more northern route, for the reason that he was better acquainted with
the Potomac between the Great Falls and Cumberland than with the route
proposed by President Davis. When a lad, he had attended St. James'
College, near Hagerstown, Md., and, by frequent drives through the
country, had learned every foot of ground between that point and
Washington city.
Mr. Davis listened attentively, and when the Colonel had finished, he
quickly replied that his offer of services had relieved his mind of a
great anxiety; that he would accept them most gladly; and that he
would agree to any route upon which the Colonel might fix. He told the
Colonel, in addition, that he would appoint, to assist him, any one whom
he might name, and that in opening and establishing the route he could
employ whoever he pleased, and use any amount of funds that might seem
necessary, as the project involved millions of money, if not the very
life of the Confederacy; and that the few thousands it might cost would
only be as dust in the balance, as compared with the advantages to be
gained.
Colonel Abercrombie immediately turned over the command of his regiment
to Major Charles Hall (the Lieutenant-Colonel, John H. Black, being on
sick leave from a wound received at Gettysburg), and entered upon the
duty of opening this new route to Washington. From Richmond to Orange
Court-House (General Lee's headquarters) was by rail, and involved no
difficulty. From thence to the Rapidan River, on the southerly side
of which lay the Confederate army, and on the northerly side the Union
army, was easy enough; but from thence, to first get through the Union
line of pickets, and then traverse about seventy miles of country, until
the Potomac was reached at or near the Great Falls, about twelve miles
above Washington, was the tug of war. To establish this latter part of
the route involved the employment of about twenty men--some as guides
from point to point; some to furnish horses, or other conveyances, to
the blockade-runners and their passenger guests; some to entertain and
conceal them whenever they came that way; some to be on the constant
lookout, and pass the word from post to post, if any danger threatened
the blockade-runners or any of their employees; some to row them across
the Potomac, and meanwhile keep their boats concealed from the eyes of
Union troops and guards; and others to pass them through safely from
the Great Falls to Washington and return. The men so employed included
planters or farmers, doctors, merchants, and day-laborers, all of whom
received pay for their services from the Confederacy, through the hands
of Colonel Abercrombie or Colonel Kill-gore. Besides these, the guides
had under pay three old negro women, at whose huts they stopped and
concealed themselves and guests, whenever occasion required. At Great
Falls, Messrs. Garrett & Morse, merchants, were the principal agents.
Upon them depended mainly the keeping open of the line from that point
to Washington city; the crossing of the Potomac at or near that point;
and to see that the guides on the Virginia side of the Potomac were
always ready for service. At Washington city the grand depot, or end
of the line, was at Ben Beveridge's saloon, and the "Washington House,"
kept by Ben's mother, at the corner of Third Street and Pennsylvania
Avenue. Ben furnished the disguises for both conductors and passengers
on this line, and was always ready to lend a helping hand in any way in
which his services could be made available. His first advance pay for
services was two thousand dollars in gold, to which additions were made
from time to time until he received from eight thousand to ten thousand
dollars, all in gold. All these men were in entire sympathy with the
Southern Confederacy, and nearly all offered their services gratuitously
when first spoken to on the subject by Colonel Abercrombie; but his plan
was to bind every man to greater faithfulness by having him to accept
pay from the Confederacy, and hence he would not accept of gratuitous
service from any one. How many thousands or tens of thousands of dollars
were distributed by Colonel Abercrombie and Colonel Killgore, for the
Confederacy, in this service, we are unable to say, but certainly a
good many. It took about six weeks of faithful service for Colonel
Abercrombie to open this new line, and, when completed, he returned to
Richmond and reported to President Davis that the line was now ready for
business.
Mr. Davis approved of all that had been done, and asked Colonel
Abercrombie whom he would have as an assistant. The Colonel named his
personal friend, Colonel Newton Killgore, who was then on detached
service at Charleston, S. C. Killgore was a graduate of West Point, and
a Lieutenant in the Topographical Engineer Corps, U. S. A., previous
to the breaking out of the war. He was then about twenty-seven years
of age, active, energetic, wide-awake, and just the man, as Colonel
Abercrombie thought, for such service. Mr. Davis sent for him, and after
explaining the kind of service to be done, placed him upon the duty, and
directed him to hold himself in constant readiness for orders, which he
did from that time forth.
The first service, on this new line, required by President Davis of
Colonel Abercrombie, was to carry eleven letters to, and open personal
negotiations with, Major Weightman, of Washington; George Thomas, John
P. Grundy, Alexander Gibson, of Baltimore; Dr. Charles Howell, C. C.
Pollard, George J. Platt, of Philadelphia; Mr. McLane, President of
the New York Pacific Mail Steamship Company, Mr. Waddell, of the same
company, and John Lamb and Alexander Goldsmith, brokers, of New York
city.
With Major Weightman Mr. Davis had been on most intimate terms of
friendship for many years. Both were Mississippians, both had been in
the Mexican war, where Major Weightman gained considerable notoriety,
was badly wounded, returned home, married a rich lady at Jackson, Miss,
(a Miss Willowby), resigned his commission in the regular army, removed
to Washington, and from thenceforth lived a quiet, retired life in
that city. When the war broke out between the North and South, Major
Weightman still continued his residence in Washington city, and soon
became on most intimate terms with Secretary Seward and President
Lincoln. When rallied about his position, he always replied that he was
"a Union man," and there left it. His word was regarded as law, and no
one questioned him further. Meanwhile, however, all his sympathies were
with the South, and he was in almost constant communication with Mr.
Davis. Through him Mr. Davis first learned of these other gentlemen to
whom he now wrote, and with some of whom he had, after learning of
them, kept up a correspondence. Mr. Davis now wanted arms, provisions,
clothing, while these gentlemen, he knew, wanted cotton, and the object
of the present letters and negotiations was to exchange the one for
the other--to the great advantage of the Confederacy, and with immense
profit to those who might take part in the speculation. The Confederacy
had taken in exchange for bonds, had taken for taxes, and had otherwise
become in possession of millions upon millions of dollars' worth of
cotton. The gentlemen to whom these letters were addressed possessed, or
could control, millions upon millions of dollars in money, and with this
money could purchase what the South then stood so much in need of--arms,
food, and clothing. The cotton was greatly needed by American and
English manufacturers, and could be sold at a price five times greater
than Mr. Davis would sell it to them for. On the goods which they
would exchange for the cotton, immense profits could be made. The only
difficulty was in getting the cotton out of the Confederacy, or in
securing it from destruction while it had to remain there. To effect
this they must either run the blockade, or so cajole President Lincoln,
his cabinet, and his generals in the field as to secure the cotton
whenever the Union armies reached the places where the cotton was
deposited. The risk in all this was considerable, but the immense
profits to be gained far more than overbalanced the risks.
On reaching Washington, Colonel Abercrombie went directly to the house
of Major Weightman. The two soon after met at Ben Beveridge's, and then
and there negotiated for a suite of rooms in the "Washington House," to
be all the time kept for the agents of, and all the while paid for by,
the Southern Confederacy. An order for two thousand dollars in gold was
handed Ben Beveridge at once, as an earnest of what he might expect
if he proved faithful and true. Three days after, Major Weightman and
Colonel Abercrombie went to Baltimore to call upon Mr. George Thomas.
After the delivery of President Davis's letter, and a general talk over
the matters to which the letter referred, Mr. Thomas concluded to call
together a few well known Southern sympathizers at a dinner-party next
day, when and where the whole subject could be thoroughly canvassed.
The dinner came off next day, as proposed, and around the table were
gathered the following well-known gentlemen: Mr. George Thomas, John
P. Grundy, Dr. Leslie Buckler, Alexander R. Gibson, Major Weightman,
Colonel Abercrombie, James Wilson, J. W. Jenkins. The result of this
conference was entirely in favor of President Davis's wishes.
Next day Major Weightman and Colonel Abercrombie, accompanied by Mr.
James Wilson, went to Philadelphia, and called at once upon Dr. Charles
Howell, then living on Rittenhouse Square. After delivery of letters and
talking over matters somewhat, Dr. Howell, like Mr. Thomas, decided
to call together at a dinner-party next day a few well known Southern
sympathizers, when and where the whole subject could be thoroughly
discussed. This was done, and the following gentlemen were present: Dr.
Charles Howell, C. C. Pollard, George J. Platt, Philip Swift, Charles H.
Mason, Jacob Florence, Major Weightman, Colonel Abercrombie, and Messrs
McLane, Lamb, and Waddell, of the New York Pacific Mail Steamship
Co., who had been invited by telegraph. Here, too, the result of the
conference was entirely favorable to Mr. Davis's wishes; but, before
a final conclusion of the negotiations, it was deemed best that Messrs
Lamb and Waddell should accompany Colonel Abercrombie back to Richmond,
see President Davis personally, take a general trip through the
Confederate States, and, on their return, report to an adjourned
meeting. Meanwhile, whatever funds Mr. Davis might need should be
furnished Major Weightman, to be deposited by him with Mr. Riggs, the
banker at Washington, to the credit of the Southern Confederacy.
These arrangements were all satisfactory to Colonel Abercrombie except
the piloting of Messrs. Lamb and Waddell through the Union lines to
Richmond. This, he feared, would be a difficult, if not an impossible,
task.
While he recognized the fact that both these gentlemen might sit in
their Wall Street banking-offices with all the dignity of a Sir
Josiah Child, or grace a lady's parlor with all the urbanity of a
Lord Chesterfield, yet he feared that when disguised as farmers or
day-laborers, when required to tug along on foot for several miles at a
time, and then ride, pell-mell, on horseback for a score of miles at a
time; when compelled to sleep in garrets or in the loft of a negro-hut;
when required to prevaricate, or even to lie, in order to get by a Union
sentinel, they might not be quite equal to the occasion. The Colonel
tried to persuade them to go by the way of Nassau, and from there run
the blockade into Charleston, as he himself had done when he first
entered the Confederate States; but the more he tried to persuade them
to this course, the more determined they were to go with him. Over the
difficulties and hardships mentioned by the Colonel, they only laughed,
said they could stand it all, that it would be as holiday-sport to
them, and that, in a day or two, both would meet the Colonel at Ben
Beveridge's, in Washington, and from thence make their way with him to
Richmond.
The third day after, Messrs. Lamb and Waddell were in Washington, and
that night, between eleven and twelve o'clock, left Beveridge's,
_en route_ for Richmond. Ben and Weightman accompanied them to a Mr.
Thecker's house, in Georgetown, where the disguises were to be put on.
Lamb first placed himself in the hands of the manipulators. He had been
wearing long chin whiskers; these Ben cut off at one fell swoop, leaving
his face as bare as a child's. Next, his hair was nicked and chopped
over, as if done with a pair of sheep-shears, in the hands of a country
bumpkin, instead of by a Broadway barber. Then he was stripped of his
latest-fashioned coat, vest, and pants, and in their place was supplied
with a suit which would have done credit to an ox-team driver. Waddell
came next. His magnificent beard, covering his entire face, was cut
clean off, and, in place thereof, two false "mutton-chop" side whiskers
and a false moustache, both butternut-color, were put on his face.
Next, Ben applied the shears to Waddell's head, and pretty soon his hair
presented the appearance of a country ox driver's. Then he, too, was
stripped of his Broadway suit, and in a few minutes transmogrified into
a fat, jolly farmer, or a Conestoga team-driver. The Colonel was already
in disguise, and had been ever since he left his uniform at Mr. Joseph
Mix's, about eleven miles within the Confederate lines, and now it only
required a little touching up, which the Colonel did for himself while
the others were laughing over their own outlandish appearance.
About one o'clock in the morning all were ready for a start. Ben
consented to go along until the first guard was passed--Major Weightman
to wait at Thecker's until Ben returned. It was the latter part of
August, 1863, and the nights, just then, were not only very warm, but
very dark. Ben led the way, Lamb and Waddell followed, and the Colonel
served as rear-guard. When Ben, who was several hundred yards in
advance, reached the canal-lock, near which a guard was stationed, he
played the drunkard, and cursed the lock-tender loud enough for the
guard to hear. The lock-tender was one of the Colonel's men, and in the
pay of the Confederacy. He knew Ben's voice, and knew, too, that the
Colonel was not far off Ben told the lock-tender, in a voice loud enough
for the guard to hear, that he had plenty of whiskey and plenty of
cigars in his pockets, and wondered if the guard would n't like some.
The lock-tender thought it probable, whereupon Ben staggered off towards
the guard, flourishing a bottle of whiskey as he went, and crying out to
the guard, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" The bait took. The guard gave no
challenge--allowed Ben to approach him--took a good swig of whiskey
from Ben's bottle--lit a cigar which Ben had handed him--entered into a
rip-raving-swearing conversation with Ben; and, while all this was
going on, the Colonel and his guests slipped quietly by, and were a good
half-mile beyond the guard before Ben bade him good-night.
[Illustration: 0055]
A further walk on the tow-path of the Chesapeake and Ohio canal, for
over two miles, brought the three travellers to Widow Ennis's farm-
and lock-house. She was in the pay of the Confederacy; and within a
half-hour from the time of reaching there, the three travellers were in
the saddle, and, accompanied by her son, to bring the horses back, on
their way to the Great Falls. They rode along at a brisk trot, and part
of the time the New York gentlemen were nearer the ears than the tails
of their horses, nevertheless they managed to hold on, and, after a ride
of nine miles, reached Hendrickson's, about a half-mile from the Falls.
Here they dismounted. Joseph took the horses back to his mother's
stable, while our three travellers walked on, about one mile, until they
reached the garden-fence in the rear of the hotel, which they clambered
over, or through, and finally got into the back-building of the hotel,
through a private door. The Colonel knew all the points, and Lamb
and Waddell had only to follow him to secure themselves and him from
observance by the Union sentinel, whose station was but a little way
from the front of the hotel. At Hendrickson's they left the main road,
and followed a by-path until they reached the garden in the rear of the
hotel. In creeping through the garden-fence, Waddell tore his coat badly
about the shoulder, which distressed him not a little, and for which
he was heartily laughed at by his companions. Mr. Morse, who kept the
hotel, was soon with his back-door customers, and certainly no guests
ever received a more hearty welcome.
Great Falls, it may here be said, once for all, is neither a town nor a
village; but consists of a large three-story stone building, used as a
hotel for summer visitors, and as a private residence in the winter,
and a large store-building, with numerous out-houses, used for
transportation purposes--all of which belong to the Chesapeake and Ohio
Canal Company; but were at this time rented, and the business carried
on by Messrs. Garrett & Morse, the former of whom gave more especial
attention to the store, and the latter to the hotel. Both were
Marylanders; both sympathized heartily with the Southern cause,
though nominally "strong Union men;" both were under the pay of
the Confederacy; and both, or as a firm, received from the Southern
Confederacy, at different times, through the hands of Colonels
Abercrombie and Killgore, sums in gold amounting to between six and
eight thousand dollars. Both were first-class business men, of high
character, and, from their love of the Southern cause, would, doubtless,
have rendered it all the aid they could had they not received one cent
of pay; but such was not the policy of President Davis or his agents.
They insisted that all who aided should be paid, and so long as cotton
could be converted into gold, this was possible, and certainly the true
policy.
It was now about three o'clock in the morning, but the Colonel would not
retire until he had sent for, and consulted with, Garrett, as to future
movements. From him the Colonel learned that the line was open, and in
good working order, that guide No. 1 would be on hand the next night to
row them across the Potomac, and conduct them to guide No. 2, and that,
meanwhile, all three should retire, and keep themselves entirely out of
sight until the following night. The retiring and resting part suited
Lamb and Waddell exactly. Both were thoroughly tired from their long
walk and horseback ride, neither being at all used to that kind of
exercise. Lamb was then about fifty, Waddell about forty years of age;
the first was lean, the latter fat; both knew how to handle gold and
greenbacks, but neither knew how to handle reins or sit a saddle,
especially when on the back of a rough trotting country farm-horse.
Their feet would slip through the stirrups; in descending hill, they
would, somehow or other, slip from their saddles towards the ears of
their horses; and in going up hill it was with difficulty they kept from
slipping off their saddles towards their horses' tails. They knew how
to walk Broadway and Wall Street with as much grace as a French
dancing-master; but when it came to walking on the tow-path of a canal,
to creeping through garden-fences, and such like performances, neither
of them could do it half as well as a country clod-hopper. Bed! rest! of
course they were ready for bed and rest, and the sooner the better; and,
suiting the action to the word, both were soon in bed, and snoring away
for dear life.
For some cause or other, guide No. I did not put in an appearance next
night, and our travellers were obliged to keep themselves concealed for
another day. The following night, however, he came, and between nine and
ten o'clock the three slipped out of the back-door of the hotel, made
their way to the boat, which was in waiting about a mile up the Potomac,
were rowed across by the guide, then walked about a mile to a negro-hut,
and then about three miles more to a-farm-house. Here horses were
procured, and then for about thirty miles, mostly through private lanes
and pig-paths, through woods and over fields, over torn-down fences and
through open gates, they trudged along until they reached the farm-house
of Dr. Carrico. It was now nearly daybreak, and our travellers were
thoroughly tired out. The Doctor, who was in the pay of the Confederacy,
though within the Union lines, and nominally a "Union man," received the
travellers with open arms, and in a little while had them safely tucked
away in bed-chambers, where the eye of no chance Union soldier or
visitor could see them.
Here they remained until the next night. Then with a new guide (guide
No. 2 having returned with the horses) they left Dr. Carrico's shortly
after nightfall, and, upon horses furnished by the Doctor, rode about
thirty-two miles to the farm and mill of Mr. Henry Budd. In this long
ride, like the other, most of the way had to be made through private
roads and pig-paths, as Union forces were in all that country, and
on the public highways there was danger of meeting Union cavalry or
infantry, as patrols or sentinels, at any moment. It was about three
o'clock in the morning when they reached Budd's mills. Just before
reaching there our travellers dismounted, and the horses were slipped
into Budd's stable, as there was a Union sentinel at this mill who could
not be passed on horseback, and with whom some diplomacy had to be
used to get by at all. To effect this, the Colonel, Lamb, and Waddell
approached as near the mill as possible, and then secreted themselves,
while the guide (No. 3) went forward to interest the sentinel in
conversation, until they could slip by. The guide knew everybody in that
neighborhood, and fortunately, knew the sentinel, so that with lively
conversation, and an occasional drink from a well-filled canteen, he
soon had the sentinel so engrossed that the three travellers stepped
across the mill-race, slipped around on the other side of the mill, and
soon were a good half-mile beyond the sentinel. Here they waited in a
woods for their guide to come up. He, on the plea that he was going to
see an "uncle", on the other side, got away from the sentinel erelong,
and soon after overtook the three travellers.
From the point where the guide rejoined them, all four walked to the
farm-house of Mr. Jonathan Brisco, about four miles from Budd's mill.
Here a Union sentinel had been placed as a safeguard, while easterly and
westerly from the house, sentinels were placed only a little way apart.
This was the extreme outer line of the Union army, and was guarded, of
course, with extra vigilance. If once through this line our travellers
thenceforth would be within the lines of the Confederate army and
entirely safe, but just how to get through was now the problem to be
solved. The plan resolved upon was that Colonel Abercrombie, Lamb, and
Waddell should remain concealed some distance from the house, while the
guide should go forward and make arrangements with the sentinel to allow
the three to come up and go into the house to see his "uncle," and then,
while he interested the guard with lively conversation and occasional
drinks of whiskey, the three to slip out of the back-door, down through
the garden, over a meadow, through a creek, and as far and as fast as
possible in the pines beyond. The plan all worked like a charm, except
that while the three were making their way from the house the sentinel
chanced to observe them. He at once asked the guide what it meant. The
guide replied that they were going to another neighbor's house, a little
beyond, to see about some corn, and would soon return to remain the
balance of the night with his "uncle." The sentinel still seemed
troubled about having let the three men pass his post, and the guide,
seeing this, and wanting to keep in the good graces of the Union
sentinel, as he might need his services again, slipped fifty dollars
in gold (which the Colonel had handed him for the purpose) into the
sentinel's hand, which at once eased his mind and made everything seem
exactly right.
From this point the three travellers walked about six miles to Mr.
Andrew Mitchell's. Here they procured horses, mounted at once, and rode
thirteen miles, to Mr. Walter Randolph's, near a railroad station called
China Grove, about ten miles north-easterly from Orange Court House.
Probably no three travellers ever rejoiced more over the completion of
a trip than these three on reaching China Grove station. They were
now among friends, and from this point they could go by railroad to
Richmond. The Colonel soon doffed his disguise, and was again in the
uniform he had left there when on his way to Washington. Messrs. Lamb
and Waddell could not procure new suits until they reached Richmond, and
therefore had to content themselves with the old until then. About ten
o'clock the cars came along, our three travellers jumped aboard, and
within an hour were at Orange Court-House, seated around the best
breakfast that mine host of Freeman's Hotel could get up. At two p.m.
they took the cars for Richmond, and before nightfall were at the
Spottsylvania Hotel, in the capital of the Southern Confederacy.
Next morning early, Messrs. Lamb and Waddell were in quest of new suits,
which they obtained from a readymade clothing-store, not far from the
hotel. Next, they went to Mowrey's banking-house to exchange some of
their gold for Confederate notes, which at that time was exchangeable at
the rate of eight dollars in Confederate notes for one dollar in gold.
Then they returned to the hotel, and soon after were introduced to
President Davis's private secretary, N. Burton Harris, Esq. He took them
to the Executive Mansion and introduced them to Mr. Davis. With him they
had a long conference on business affairs, after which he introduced
them to and put them in special care of certain prominent gentlemen
at the capital, whose duty and pleasure it would be to give them such
additional information as they might need, and accompany them to such
other cities of the Confederacy as they might desire to visit. The
Colonel called upon the President the same evening, made a full report
of all that he had seen and heard and done while at the North, and then
left to visit his regiment, which lay near Gordonsville.
Messrs. Lamb and Waddell, after spending a few more days in and about
Richmond, seeing what was to be seen and learning what was to be
learned, left for Newbern, Wilmington, Charleston, Savannah, Mobile, and
other places where Confederate cotton was in store. At all these points
they found immense quantities of cotton, some of which they were told
had been seven years gathered, and held meanwhile for better prices. At
each place they found government agents, and others, who assured them
that the cotton could be got through the blockade, if they only had
ships on which to load it.
They saw, too, at every place they visited, a determined spirit on
the part of the people never to give over the struggle, until their
separation was achieved. Of course they did not see, and great care
was taken that they should not see, anything like destitution among the
people. The tables which they saw were all well spread, though it took
the last loaf of bread from the pantry or the last pickle from the jar.
It was a part of the masterly diplomacy of President Davis, and of
those who surrounded and upheld his hands, never to show a want, or cry
_peccavi_, where a Northern ear could see the one or hear the other.
"Not one cent for tribute, but millions for defence," was their cry from
first to last,--was their cry, indeed, until, when the egg was finally
broken, nothing was found but an empty shell.
Having finished their journey through the States of the Confederacy,
occupying between two and three weeks, Messrs Lamb and Waddell returned
to Richmond and reported to President Davis that they were entirely
satisfied with what they had seen and heard, and that, so soon as they
could report the facts to Messrs McLane, Thomas, Howell, and others,
there would be no difficulty whatever in his obtaining all the money
and all the supplies he might at any time need in exchange for cotton.
Colonel Abercrombie was then telegraphed for, and on the day following
reported at the Executive Mansion. From the President he received full
instructions as to further operations. He then informed Messrs Lamb and
Waddell that he was now ready to conduct them back to Washington.
Next day they started by rail for China Grove station. Here, at Mr.
Randolph's, they exchanged uniform and fashionable suits for their
former disguises, and from thence traversed about the same route, rode
and walked about the same distances, met with about the same incidents
as when on the outward trip, until they finally reached Ben Beveridge's
in Washington city. Here they met Major Weightman and informed him of
all they had seen and learned. Then on to Baltimore, where they called
upon, and reported to, Mr. Thomas and his associates. From this point
the Colonel returned to Washington, while Messrs Lamb and Waddell
went on to Philadelphia, where they reported to Dr. Howell and his
associates; and then to New York, where they reported to Mr. McLane and
others. All to whom they reported expressed entire satisfaction as to
the result of their trip, and were ready to invest in the enterprise to
the extent of their means. Not long after, a general meeting of all the
"cotton ring" associates was held at Dr. Howell's, in Philadelphia, when
plans were perfected to charter or purchase ships to send to Newbern,
North Carolina, to be freighted with needed articles outward and cotton
inward. It so happened that three of their vessels were seized by the
blockading squadron, not many weeks after, and this for a time threw a
cloud over their enterprise; but so soon as the loss was reported to Mr.
Davis he gave them enough additional cotton to make up for the loss of
the three vessels and their cargoes. From thenceforth they met with but
few, if any, losses, though they continued operations, at various points
along the coast, until the fall of Fort Fisher, on the 15th of January,
1865. How much the "ring" made in their cotton operations it would be
impossible to say; but we have it from an intimate friend of Mr. Gilmore
Meredith's, of Baltimore, that his share of the profits amounted to a
"million of money," and if his share reached that amount, others, whose
investments were far greater, must have reaped still larger amounts.
This cotton ring, made up of the gentlemen whom we have heretofore named
as seated around the dinner-tables of Messrs. Thomas and Howell (besides
Messrs. Gilmore Meredith, of Baltimore, Samuel Harding, Alphonso
Lip-pincott, and Alexander Goldsmith, of New York), must not be
confounded with the one, or more, mentioned by General L. C. Baker,
chief of the national detective police, in his letter of January 30,
1865, to Hon. E. B. Wash-burne, chairman of committee on commerce, in
which the names of Thurlow Weed, Ward Lamon, Leonard I. Sweat, Wm. P.
Dole, D. Randolph Martin, B. F. Camp, Prescott Smith, A. H. Lazare,
H. A. Risley, T. C. Durant, Samuel Norris, and Simeon Draper, occur as
playing principal parts.
These last named gentlemen were nearly all avowed Republicans, and
several of them personal and intimate friends of President Lincoln and
Secretary Seward. The others were mostly avowed Southern sympathizers
(though nominally "Union men"), and some of them had long known, and
been on most intimate personal terms with, President Davis, besides
having friends and relatives scattered all over the South. The one had
no object but to make the almighty dollar. The other had friendship, as
well as the almighty dollar, as a basis for action. Which of the two is
most to be commended, or most to be condemned, each reader must decide
for himself.
And before closing this chapter we again beg to say--as stated in the
introductory chapter--that, while vouching for facts, we cannot in every
instance vouch for the names and dates given throughout this volume. Our
informants in every case meant to give us exact names and exact dates;
but the many years elapsing between the events and the relating of them
to us, had caused a partial forgetting of names and dates, although the
incidents remained as fresh in the minds of the relators as though they
had occurred but the day before. In second and all subsequent editions
of this work, these errors (if such there be) will stand corrected, for
so soon as this work gets before the public, errors, if any there
be, will doubtless be observed and corrected by such as were, or
are, cognizant of the facts. The author most earnestly invites such
corrections, or any others that may be found in the work, as his aim
from the first has been to "set down naught in malice," nor to say
anything of anybody, or in the relating of any event, but what is
strictly true.
RICHMOND, VA., BEFORE THE WAR.
[Illustration: 0067]
CHAPTER IV. ANOTHER CONDUCTOR ON THE NEW LINE. CAUTION SLIDING THE
SCENES.
|IN the preceding chapter, mention is made of the fact that President
Davis placed Colonel Newton Killgore on this same service; and in the
same paragraph a brief account is given of his accomplishments, and the
position he held in the United States army previous to the war. In
this chapter we purpose to give a bird's-eye view of his services as
conductor on this new line, for running the land blockade.
Not long after the time when Colonel Abercrombie had started on his
first trip for Washington, President Davis sent for Colonel Killgore,
and desired him to carry an order for arms and ammunition to Major
Weightman, of Washington. He was directed, however, to await, at China
Grove station, Colonel Abercrombie's return to that point, and then to
go on or return to Richmond, according as the negotiation of Colonel
Abercrombie had been successful or otherwise. Accordingly, when Messrs.
Abercrombie, Lamb, and Waddell reached Mr. Randolph's, they found
Colonel Killgore awaiting them. A consultation resulted in sending him
forward on his mission with all convenient speed.
His general route was the same as that over which our three travellers
had just passed; his stopping places the same; his guides the same;
and in due time he found himself in the rooms of the Confederacy at
Ben Beveridge's. Ben sent for Major Weightman. To him Colonel Killgore
delivered his orders, letters, and verbal messages; received from the
Major whatever of information and messages he had to send to President
Davis, and within six hours was ready to start on his return trip for
Richmond. He returned as he went, and within five days from the time of
leaving Washington stood in the presence of Mr. Davis, ready to give
an account of his mission. Everything had been done to the entire
satisfaction of the President, and the Colonel was directed to hold
himself in constant readiness for like orders.
After this, Colonel Killgore made frequent trips between Richmond and
Washington. Of course he wore a disguise, and acted the part of a green
country bumpkin: and so well did he wear the one, and assume the other,
that never, but on two occasions, did he meet with incidents worthy of
special record.
The first of these occurred as follows: After delivering messages and
documents to Major Weightman, he proceeded to Baltimore, to deliver
others to Mr. Thomas. While at the Fountain Hotel it chanced that his
false moustache became loose, or somewhat disarranged. He stepped before
a mirror, in the public reading-room, to readjust it, and, while doing
so, observed a gentleman watching him very closely. Leaving that hotel
instantly, he went to Barnum's, but was scarcely there before he noticed
the same gentleman, who had watched him in the other hotel, again eyeing
him closely. Soon the gentleman stepped up to him, and called him by
his first name. The Colonel immediately recognized him as an old army
friend, whom he had not seen for many years, and whom he had little
thought to meet there, and under such circumstances. The gentleman was
a Southerner; recognized, and entirely approved of the Colonel's new
position as Ambassador Extraordinary between high contracting parties;
and in a little while after they were drinking the health of each other,
and confusion to their enemies. The Colonel at first feared that one of
Baker's detectives had discovered his disguise while he was arranging
his moustache, as before related, and felt not a little relieved when
his observer turned out to be a friend instead of an enemy. He never
again adjusted his false moustache in the reading-room of a hotel.
The other incident occurred as follows: He had been to Washington, and
was on his return to Richmond. Crossing the Potomac, at a point above
the Great Falls, he was accosted by a man on the Virginia side, who
wanted to know where he had come from, and where he was going? Colonel
Killgore replied that he lived in Maryland, not far from the Falls,
and was on his way to visit a friend on the Virginia side. Other
conversation followed, until the Colonel thought his questioner was
satisfied, though he meanwhile had fully made up his mind that his
questioner was none other than one of General Baker's secret detectives.
The Colonel finally bade his questioner good-bye, and started to leave,
when his questioner cried out, "Stop! I believe you are a spy--you are
my prisoner!"
"No, I am not!" answered Colonel Killgore, and instantly sent a bullet
whizzing into the brain of his questioner. The man fell, and died at
once. An examination of the papers upon his person proved him to be,
as the Colonel had suspected, one of the captains of General Baker's
National Detective force. His body was left precisely where it fell,
while Colonel Killgore proceeded on his journey, and in due time arrived
in Richmond. When the body of the captain was found, some days after, it
was discovered that a bullet had pierced his brain; but it was not known
then, nor, except to a very few, was it ever known afterwards, who sent
it there. This is the first publication of the real facts of the case,
though the newspapers of the time were full of suppositions, not one of
which was true, or anywhere near true.
Colonel Killgore continued one of the conductors on this line until the
line was closed. After the war he returned to Charleston, studied law,
was admitted to practice, and when last heard from was doing a large
and successful business, and was regarded as among the first men of the
State.
[Illustration: 0073]
CHAPTER V. NOBILITY AFTER THE NUGGETS. DIPLOMACY PROMPTING THE ACTORS.
|IN September, 1863, cotton was quoted in New York city at 70 cents,
gold at $1.29. The first indicated the great want for cotton by the
manufacturers of this country, of England, and of other parts of the
world. The second indicated the want of confidence, then existing, among
the moneyed men of the world in the stability of this government.
The great divorce trial then going on in the court of last resort--the
Court of Arms--in which the South, as representing the wife, was
complainant, and the North, as representing the husband, was defendant,
had thus far been attended with varied success. In the first contest, at
Fort Sumter, the wife spit fire at the husband, and the husband quickly
succumbed. In the second contest, at Bull Run, the wife flew at the
husband's eyes and ears, and he, to save both, ran back to Washington.
In the next, General Lyon, on behalf of the father, made a dash at
General Price, at Booneville, Mo., when the latter suddenly remembered
that he was needed elsewhere and left without ceremony. In Western
Virginia, General McClellan sprang for the scalp of General Garnett,
when the latter concluded that some point nearer Richmond would be more
healthy. And thus the trial had been dragging its slow length along,
sometimes favorable to the complainant and sometimes to the defendant,
up to the time mentioned at the opening of this chapter.
Meanwhile the children on both sides only seemed the more determined
to win finally, the oftener they were defeated temporarily; and
criminations and recriminations became harsher and fiercer on both
sides. The children of the North sided with the father, and claimed that
the letter of the original contract must be kept; that in that contract
there was no provision for divorce, nor was it admissible now. The
children of the South sided with the mother, and claimed that the
father had ill-treated the mother, had outgrown the mother, because of
advantages taken of her, and by every law, human and divine, she was
entitled to a divorce. The children of the North claimed that even if
a legal divorce was possible, an equitable division of the estate was
impossible. That a considerable portion of the estate had been purchased
with blood, or treasure, or both, since marriage, and was so located
that division was impossible; that Texas, California, and New Mexico
had cost thousands of lives and one hundred and thirty-five millions
of dollars, and could not now be divided; that Louisiana and the
free navigation of the Mississippi River had cost fifteen millions of
dollars, and could not now be divided; that Florida had been purchased
of Spain at a cost of six million dollars, and that it had cost
twenty-five millions more to get the Seminole Indians out of its swamps,
and that it could not now be divided. To all this the children of the
South replied, that not only what the mother had brought to the estate,
but all that had been since obtained, contiguous to that which she had
before marriage, belonged of right to her and her alone, and that they
would maintain her in this right against all comers: The children of the
North further complained that over three millions of the children of the
common household were held in bondage by Southern masters, and that they
must be liberated ere we could hope to have permanent peace at home, or
the respect of nations abroad. The children of the South replied that
those held in bondage were the descendants of Ham, whom Noah, with God's
approval, assigned to perpetual bondage to the sons of Shem and Japhet.
To this the children of the North replied that the New Dispensation of
Christ, teaching forgiveness to all, kindness to all, love to all, had
done away with the Old Dispensation of "an eye for an eye and a tooth
for a tooth," and that the command, "Come unto me all ye ends of the
earth," included the black man no less than the white. The children of
the South replied that they had not brought slavery into the family, nor
would they drive it out, and if others of the household attempted to do
so, they would maintain it; and thus, too, this question stood up to the
time mentioned in the opening of this chapter.
In the second chapter of this work we mentioned the fact that among the
first acts of the first Confederate Congress was the authorizing of a
loan of $15,000,000. Also, the fact that, at a subsequent meeting of
the Congress at Richmond, President Davis stated in his message that
"$50,000,000 had been subscribed in cotton." In neither case was it
officially stated who had subscribed for these loans, but there is
scarcely a doubt that much the larger part was subscribed by British
capitalists. English manufacturers wanted the cotton; English
capitalists wanted a profitable investment for their surplus funds; the
sympathies of the English nobility and of the upper classes generally
were then almost wholly with the Southern Confederacy; they believed,
as Europeans generally believed then, that the South would succeed in
establishing a separate government; that, whether they succeeded or not,
the English government would so far interfere as to secure the getting
of any cotton which English manufacturers and English capitalists might
purchase of the Confederacy; and, under all these circumstances, it is
not at all surprising that a large part of the sixty-five millions
named should have been subscribed for by British subjects; nor is it
surprising that after they had thus subscribed, and in some cases paid
their money in advance by cashing Confederate bonds, they should have
used extraordinary means--strange and eventful means--to secure the
cotton.
Having thus made the frame and stretched on it the canvas, we are now
ready to paint the picture, and, when finished, it will, we think,
fully justify the caption given to this chapter, "Nobility after the
Nuggets"--"Diplomacy Prompting the Actors."
In the latter part of September, 1863, Lord John Brew-erton arrived in
the city of New York direct from London. So soon as the steamer in which
he came arrived at the wharf, he directed his valet to have his baggage
taken to the Astor House, while he, taking the first cab he found at the
landing, directed the driver to drive him with all possible speed to
the office of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, 88 Wall Street. On
reaching the office he inquired for the president of the company, Mr.
Allan McLane, found him in, and for the next two hours was closeted
with him. That same evening Mr. McLane called upon Lord Brewerton at the
Astor House, dined with him, and again spent several hours with him in
close and confidential conversation--mostly with regard to the Southern
Confederacy.
The two following days Lord Brewerton spent in New York attending to
various business matters, and on the third day he and Mr. McLane went
together to Baltimore. At Philadelphia Mr. C. C. Pollard joined them.
At Baltimore they met Colonel Ralph Abercrombie, who chanced to be in
Washington at the time, and who had been telegraphed for, through Major
Weightman, to meet them at Baltimore. That night and the following day
were spent in consultations with Messrs. Thomas, Grundy, Wilson, and
others. In the evening McLane and Pollard returned to New York, while
Lord Brewerton and Colonel Abercrombie went to Washington. They walked
from the depot direct to Ben Beveridge's, where a scene occurred which
is difficult to put upon canvas--a scene much easier imagined than
described. When the two came into the saloon Ben was absorbed in
conversation with some gentlemen, and did not see them enter. The
Colonel, desiring to attract Ben's attention without calling upon
himself the attention of others, stepped up to the bar and asked for
"Bourben whiskey," putting special emphasis on the word Bourben, as this
was the Confederate password which had been agreed upon between him and
Ben. The clerk behind the bar sat a bottle of Bourbon whiskey upon the
marble counter for the Colonel to help himself; but still Ben did
not come up, and kept on chatting and laughing with his friends. The
Colonel, determining to attract his attention, put the glass to his
lips, and then, with an oath loud enough to wake the dead, smashed the
glass into a thousand pieces on the marble counter, and declared that
such BOURBEN as that was not fit for a dog to drink. Of course, Ben
rushed to the counter to see who had dared commit such an outrage in his
saloon; the Lord shrank back aghast, as though an earthquake was about
to open under his feet; some Indians who chanced to be in the saloon at
the time became very much excited and seemed about to raise a war-whoop,
and, for a moment, confusion worse confounded prevailed; but so soon
as Ben recognized the Colonel he comprehended the whole situation,
acknowledged that his clerk had made a mistake in setting out some other
bottle than "Bourben," made a thousand apologies for the mistake, and
then, in a tone as mild as that of a sucking-dove, invited the Colonel
and his friend "John" into a side room, where they might take a drink
alone by themselves. The outsiders had been completely hoodwinked, while
the insiders had a hearty laugh all to themselves over the incident and
its happy ending. Major Weightman was then sent for, and when he came he
and Lord Brewerton had a conference of some hours. When this had ended,
a cab was called, and Lord Brewerton was driven direct to the residence
of the British Minister, Lord Lyons, while the Colonel was driven to his
sister's (Mrs. Professor Joseph H. Saxton), on Capitol Hill.
Lord Brewerton remained with Lord Lyons some days, and then returned to
New York, with the expectation of returning at once to England; but,
on reaching there, he found a cablegram awaiting him which required his
immediate return to Washington to see Lord Lyons, and, if possible,
to make his way from thence to Richmond, to see President Davis. He
accordingly returned next day to Washington, saw the British Minister,
saw Colonel Abercrombie, and finally succeeded in making arrangements
with the latter for an overland trip to Richmond. The Colonel explained
to him the hardships which he would have to endure in making the trip
overland, and tried hard to persuade him to return to New York and go by
the way of Nassau; but Lord Brewerton insisted that he could stand the
hardships, and would much prefer it to a trip by sea. He was at this
time about fifty years of age, a gentleman of high mental culture, of
elegant manners, had spent all his life in the very highest walks of
society, and had not probably ever endured one hour of real hardship;
but his health was good, and he thought he would rather enjoy, than
otherwise, the hardships of which the Colonel spoke. At all events, he
insisted upon trying it, and so the matter was finally agreed upon.
Next night, about ten o'clock, Major Weightman and Colonel Abercrombie
left Ben Beveridge's saloon in a close carriage; called at the English
embassy for Lord Brewerton; then on to Thecker's, in Georgetown, where
Ben was waiting with the disguises. Here, under Ben's skilful hands,
Lord Brewerton underwent a complete transmogrification. His mutton-chop
whiskers were cut off; his hair chipped and hacked as though done with
a broad-axe; his fashionable suit laid aside, and a rough farmer's suit
substituted; in place of his fine patent leather boots, a pair of negro
clodhoppers were put upon his feet; in place of his fine beaver, a
coarse slouch hat; all of which my lord enjoyed and laughed over as
heartily as the others. The Colonel being in disguise already, it only
took a rub or two here, and a scrape or two there, to make him ready for
the trip.
By midnight all were ready. As before, in the case of Lamb and Waddell,
Ben led the way, and, by playing drunk, and treating the sentinel with
whiskey and cigars, got them safely by the first post. From there
they walked about two miles to Widow Ennis' farm-house; thence rode to
Hendrickson's, nine miles; thence walked to the Falls, one mile. Here
Garrett and Morse received them with open arms, and furnished such
refreshments as were needed. Mrs. Morse seemed specially impressed at
the presence of a live lord, and honored the occasion by putting on her
best silk dress before coming down-stairs to be introduced. The guide
was in waiting, and within two hours all three left their friends to
cross the Potomac. To reach the place where the boat for crossing had
been concealed required a walk of about two miles; and, when across,
it required a walk of another mile to reach the negro hut of old "Aunt
Rachel." It was now so near daylight that the Colonel deemed it unsafe
to go further, so that all that day the three remained concealed in Aunt
Rachel's humble quarters. They could not venture outside the door even
for a moment, and at times the lord seemed in great distress at such
close confinement; but the day wore away at last, and soon after
nightfall the three walked about four miles to Mr. Francis Latimer's.
Here the Colonel had expected to get saddle-horses, as before, but the
horses were away, and nothing remained in the shape of a conveyance but
an old mule, blind in one eye, and a two-wheel dirt-cart. After some
consultation and delay, it was decided to take these, and in a little
while after the blind mule and two-wheeled cart, with an old darkey,
"Uncle Jarrett," as driver, stood before the door. Some straw had been
thrown in the cart, on which our travellers might lay; but Mr. Latimer
thought this beneath the dignity of a live lord, and therefore had an
old splint-bottom chair set in the cart, on which the lord might sit,
while the Colonel could lay upon the straw at his side.
The night was very dark, besides which the age and blindness of the mule
made him to stumble frequently. They had not gone half a mile before
Lord Brewerton found that his seat was a very uncertain and a very
uncomfortable one. Down would go one of the wheels into a deep rut. "Ha!
hi! be careful, my man! be careful! What a bloody road this is, to be
sure!" the lord would cry out. On a little farther, and down would go
the other wheel into a deep rut. "Ho! ha! hi! here we go over, to be
sure! Be careful, my good man; be careful! Why, Colonel, I never saw
such bloody roads in all my life. Do they ever work them?"
"Yes, sometimes," the Colonel replied, as sober as a judge, though
almost dying from suppressed laughter. Indeed such a scene would have
made a dog laugh, and surely the blind old mule would have laughed
outright could he have laughed at all. The Colonel, lying upon the straw
on the bottom of the cart, felt no fear at all when it sidled over; but
Lord Brewerton, on the chair, was indeed in danger of being spilled out
every time the cart made a sudden lurch. A little farther and one of the
wheels strikes and passes over a good sized stone. "Ha! hi! he! here we
go sure this time! Be careful, my dear man, be careful! And did you ever
see such a bloody road in all your life, Colonel? Are you sure, my dear
man, that you are in the road?"
"Yes, massa, I'se sure. I knows'em well. I'se trabelled dis road many
times, massa," replied old Jarrett; and then, turning to his mule, said,
"Git along, Jack, git along! Lift yer feet high, Jack; lift yer-feet
high! Git up, git along, Jack!" And thus for full two miles they trudged
along, the lord in danger every five minutes of being thrown over the
wheels, and calling everything "bloody! bloody! bloody!" while the
Colonel could not help occasional outbursts of laughter, though all the
while trying to suppress it, out of respect for the feelings of Lord
John.
At length Lord Brewerton's patience gave way entirely, when he seized
the old chair and hurled it from the cart, and then laid down in the
straw beside the Colonel. The other six miles, to Wilson's mill, were
made without any incident worthy of record.
Old Aunt Rachel's negro hut was probably the first in Virginia that ever
gave shelter for a whole day to a live lord; and it is safe to say that
no live lord ever rode behind a blinder mule, in a more rickety cart,
or with a safer driver, than Lord Brewerton did that night. To show his
appreciation of treats so rare, we may add, that before leaving Aunt
Rachel he handed her two twenty-dollar gold pieces, and before bidding
Uncle Jarrett goodbye, he made him happy for life by handing him five
twenty-dollar gold pieces.
"God bless you, massa, God bless you!" was all the answer either of them
could make to such unexpected generosity; but this, to one whose nature
was nobler than his blood, was quite sufficient.
At Wilson's they procured horses, and rode about eight miles to a grove.
There they dismounted, as it was dangerous to travel the public road
farther, and sending the horses back with the guide, the two trudged
along on foot, over fields and through by-paths for about five miles,
until they reached Mr. Joseph Berry's. Here they stayed all day, and
at night rode on horseback, about seventeen miles, to Mr. Frederick
Hutchings. At this farm-house they again changed horses, and then rode
six miles farther to Nathan Allen's. Again they changed horses, and then
rode about fifteen miles to Budd's mill. It was now near morning, and
for the balance of the day they remained concealed in Mr. Budd's house.
When night came, they managed, as the Colonel had before, to pass the
sentinel at the mill, and then walked four miles to Mr. Brisco's. Here
they obtained horses and rode eleven miles to Dr. Charles Worthington's.
Here one of the outside Union sentinels was stationed. The guide knew
him personally, and slipped one hundred dollars in gold into his hands.
The sentinel became suddenly stone-blind, and our travellers passed by
without difficulty. They were now within the Confederate lines, and no
longer in fear of arrest.. After a short walk they procured horses, and
then a ride of nineteen miles brought them to Randolph's, at China Grove
station. This route, it will be seen, varied some little from that
taken by Messrs. Lamb, and Waddell. A change of Union troops and
sentinel-stations made a change of route sometimes necessary. The
conductors of the line, Colonels Abercrombie and Killgore, had no less
than five different points at which they crossed the Potomac, and at
each point, look-outs and guides were all the while in waiting and all
the while in the pay of the Confederacy.
At Randolph's, Colonel Abercrombie laid aside his disguise and again
assumed his uniform; Lord Brewerton brushed up as best he could; both
took seats in the next passing train; and in a few hours thereafter were
at the Ballard House, in Richmond. No sooner was Lord Brewerton in his
bed-chamber than he kneeled (inviting the Colonel to do the same) and
offered up a most earnest prayer of thanks to God for his deliverance
from dangers, and for the safety which had attended him thus far in his
travels.
Of course, the arrival of Lord Brewerton was at once made known to Mr.
Davis, and on the following day the President not only called upon him,
but insisted that he should make the Executive Mansion his home while he
remained in Richmond, to which Lord Brewerton finally consented, and at
once accompanied Mr. Davis to his home. For a day or two they were in
close consultation. After that, members of the cabinet, army officers,
and other prominent gentlemen commenced to call upon Lord Brewerton. It
was soon after arranged that a reception ball should be given him at
the Executive Mansion. The programme included the illumination of the
grounds with brilliant fire-works, the attendance of military bands,
with special invitations to all the leading civil and military officers
of the Confederacy. The reception and ball came off, and was even more
brilliant than had been anticipated. Among those present, were Generals
Lee, Breckenridge, and Beauregard. The ladies, it had been arranged,
should all dress in calico, from the President's wife down. This was
observed to the letter, and the lord was given to understand that it was
done as a compliment to the cotton manufacturing interests of England,
though the fact was that but few Southern ladies had any of their silks
and satins left to wear. Although the South, even in the very highest
circles of society, was beginning to feel the pinch-ings of poverty
in dress, food, and in almost everything else, yet this was carefully
concealed from the eyes and ears of Lord Brewerton during the whole time
of his stay in the Confederacy.
About two weeks after the grand ball, Lord Brewerton, accompanied by
a few friends, started on a tour of inspection through the Confederate
States, especially to places where cotton was stored in large
quantities. They visited Wilmington and Newbern, N. C., Charleston,
Savannah, Mobile, and many other points. The entire trip occupied about
two months. On his return to Richmond, Lord Brewerton expressed to
President Davis and others his entire satisfaction with what he had seen
and otherwise learned, adding that he had not the shadow of a doubt as
to the final success of the Confederate arms. He assured Mr. Davis that
whatever money, arms, and provisions the Confederacy might need would
be promptly furnished by himself and his associates, in exchange for
cotton; and that the cause of the South would continue to receive, as
it had all along received, the sympathy and moral support of all the
_upper_ classes of England. He also assured him that if the ministry of
England could have the least possible excuse for interfering between the
North and the South, they would be more than glad to espouse the cause
of the South, as England's material interests all lay in this direction,
and the moral sentiment of the nation could not stand for one moment in
the way of its moneyed interests.
Lord Brewerton remained in Richmond after his return about one week, in
consultation with President Davis and his cabinet; Colonel Abercrombie
was then telegraphed for; all the needed arrangements were made; the two
left Richmond, and in less than a week were at the English embassy at
Washington. Their return was by the same route as that on which they had
gone; walking and riding about the same, except that they missed this
time a ride behind old Jarrett's blind mule; nor did they have the
luxury of spending a whole day at Aunt Rachel's negro hut. Lord
Brewerton told Lord Lyons all about the incidents of their trip (as well
as all that he had seen and learned of the Confederacy), and the two had
over them and their wine many a hearty laugh.
It so happened that on the evening following the return of Lord
Brewerton and Colonel Abercrombie to Washington, there was to be a grand
reception at the White House. The lord invited the Colonel to accompany
him to this reception, and to be introduced as his friend. The Colonel
hesitated at first, as he feared he might possibly be recognized by
some of his old Washington acquaintances, or by some of Baker's secret
detectives. He finally consented, however, and, in the disguise of a
"French exquisite," did attend President Lincoln's grand reception, and
saw and heard all that was to be seen and heard on such occasions.
Of course, Lord Brewerton was the observed of all observers, and was
recognized by all (save those who knew to the contrary) as a staunch
friend to the Union. A few days after, Lord Brewerton and the Colonel
went to Philadelphia, where they met a party of gentlemen at Dr. Charles
Howell's, and where future business arrangements were talked over and
agreed upon. From here the lord went to New York, while the Colonel
returned to Washington and from thence to Richmond.
Thus we finish the record of the visit of one English peer to the
Southern Confederacy; but this, by no means, constitutes the whole
of such visits during the war. In January, 1863, Lord Talbot was at
Charleston, having reached there by the way of Nassau. He had a son who
was a colonel in the Confederate army, and who continued in the
service until the close of the war. In November, 1863, Lords Harvey and
Kartwright were at Richmond; they, too, having reached the Confederate
States by the way of Nassau. Major Hodges, one of General Beauregard's
staff, was the son of an English lord, and did faithful service until
the war closed. Adjutant-General Cooper said that upon the army rolls
were the names of scores who were either the sons of, or nearly related
to, English peers. Lord Cavendish, who was in very bad health, remained
at Nassau during most of the time that the war continued, rendering such
aid to the Confederacy as lay in his power. Indeed, the immense hotel at
Nassau was crowded with English and Northern sympathizers with the South
nearly all the while, from the beginning to the end of the war, watching
chances for running the blockade, and otherwise aiding the Confederacy
in whatever way they could. These gentlemen, however, while friends to
the Confederacy, were still more friends to their own pockets. With them
"cotton was king," and of this king they were trying to get as much in
their pockets as possible, while English ministers and English consuls
were aiding them to the extent of their ability. This was true not only
at Washington and at Nassau, but generally with British ministers and
British consuls throughout the world, which fact, added to what we have
related of Lord Brewerton, who, doubtless, represented many other
persons besides himself, and many other interests besides his own, fully
justifies, as we think, the caption given to this chapter, Nobility
after the Nuggets--Diplomacy Prompting the Actors.
[Illustration: 0089]
CHAPTER VI. IN TIGHT PLACES AND OUT. SHREWDNESS PULLING THE WIRES.
|THE plan of our work admits of only one more chapter on the subject of
running the land blockade, though, if space permitted, the entire volume
might be filled with incidents connected with this one service. This
chapter, therefore, must embrace a variety of incidents.
On one of the trips, Colonel Abercrombie conducted Mr. Charles R.
Dangerfield from Washington to Richmond, and return. Mr. Dangerfield was
a large manufacturer, or the agent of manufacturers, of English arms,
accoutrements, etc., and his object in visiting Richmond was to make
contracts with the Confederacy in exchange for cotton. Nothing of
special note occurred on the way to Richmond, except that, while lying
at the negro hut all day, two men came to the door, and asked "Aunt
Jemima" if Colonel Abercrombie was not there? This Mr. Dangerfield
heard, and it frightened him almost out of his wits. "Now Grant's men
have us!" said he, and, springing up from where he lay, he was ready to
surrender at once; but the military experience of the Colonel made
him cooler and more courageous than the Englishman, and he, instead of
surrendering, was getting ready to sell his life as dearly as possible,
when "Aunt Jemima" called out, "All's right, honey, all's right! dese be
your guides, Mas'er Colonel; all's right!" Had a ten-thousand ton weight
been lifted from Mr. Dangerfield's breast, he could not have felt more
relieved. He was ready to dance a hornpipe then and there, and would
have done it, had he not been too old, fat, and clumsy for such a
youthful sport. From Richmond, Mr. Dangerfield visited all the larger
cities, and all the cotton-storing places of the Confederacy. On his
return to Richmond he made contracts with the government to his entire
satisfaction, and in due time returned to Washington, New York, and
thence to London.
At another time the Colonel conducted another English manufacturer, Mr.
Francis Willis, across the lines and back. He, like Mr. Dangerfield,
visited the principal points in the Confederacy, and, on his return
to Richmond, made contracts to furnish arms, accoutrements, saddles,
clothing, etc., in exchange for cotton.
There were others who were passengers on this line, at various times;
but as their object was to see friends or attend to domestic affairs,
and had no direct connection with the war, we think it unnecessary to
particularize them.
On one of the trips Colonel Abercrombie was arrested as a spy--though
his duties, and those of Colonel Killgore's, were as foreign to those
of a spy as one thing can be foreign to another--and as there were
incidents connected with the arrest and escape never heretofore known,
we will now relate them.
The Colonel was on his way from Richmond to Washington. Had reached
Great Falls in safety, and was about half way between that point and
Georgetown, when a sentinel suddenly called, "Halt! stand, or I'll
fire." The Colonel, who was in the disguise of a farmer, tried to
explain to the sentinel that he was a farmer, living near Georgetown;
that he had been up to Garrett & Morse's store to see a friend, and was
now on his way back; that he was an uncompromising "_Union_ man," etc.,
etc.; but the sentinel's only reply was that his orders were to halt and
detain any one who attempted to pass his post, and that the Colonel must
stand precisely where halted until the corporal came around, and not
move a step forward or backward, or he would fire upon him. The Colonel
saw that he had a sentinel to deal with who could not be either cajoled
or bribed, and that he could do nothing else than await the coming of
the corporal, and then try his arts upon him. Could he have got near
the sentinel, he would have disarmed him and escaped, but this was
impossible. When the corporal came around to relieve the guard the
Colonel told him the same story he had told the sentinel; but he seemed
to doubt the story, and told the Colonel he must "fall in" and accompany
them to the Captain's headquarters, about a half-mile distant. On
reaching there the Colonel repeated the same old story, to all of which
the Captain listened attentively and respectfully. The Captain had just
eaten his supper, and, learning from the Colonel that he had not yet had
his, asked him to take a seat at the table and help himself. While the
Colonel was eating, the Captain narrowly observed him, and pretty soon
cried out, "Yes! I see you are a farmer from the way you handle your
knife and fork! A pretty farmer you are, to be sure!" The Colonel
was nonplussed for a moment and could make no reply; but after awhile
managed to say that he "could n't see why a farmer could not handle
a knife and fork just as well as anybody else." He was caught, fairly
caught, by his "society manners," and the more he talked, the better
satisfied the Captain became that he was not a farmer, and might be a
spy. He was accordingly sent, that same night, to the headquarters of
the Eleventh Pennsylvania regiment, and there put in the guard-house.
Next morning the colonel of this regiment sent him to General Wilson's
headquarters, near by, who, after some questions, sent him back to
the guard-house. The next night Colonel Abercrombie made an attempt to
escape, and nearly succeeded. This being reported to General Wilson, he
ordered a heavy ball and chain to be strongly riveted to the Colonel's
leg. Matters now began to look desperate; for, while the Colonel had no
fear of being condemned as a spy, he was ready to do anything, rather
than be brought before a court-martial and _recognized_. He bethought
himself of some medicine he always carried with him. Of this he took a
dose, and soon had a most violent diarrhoea. He now could ask, and did
ask, to be sent to a hospital, and next day was sent to the Lincoln
Hospital, near Georgetown. It changed that on the next couch to his
in the hospital lay a Confederate captain, named Lawrence Norton, of
Georgia. The two soon became acquainted. The Colonel told the Captain
that if by any means the ball and chain could be taken from his leg, he
could escape from the hospital. The Captain told his wife this when she
visited him next day; the wife became immediately interested, and soon
procured and brought to her husband a watch-spring file; the Captain
that same night so filed the clasp, which held the ball and chain to the
Colonel's ankle, that it could be slipped off at any moment. The Colonel
watched the surgeon when he came into the hospital next day, and managed
to slip a pass from the surgeon's overcoat pocket while it lay upon a
stand near his bed. With this pass and two empty bottles in his hand,
he rushed by the sentinel at the door, on the plea that he was in great
haste to bring medicines which the doctor had just sent him after.
Once outside the building, he sprang over a cemetery fence, and from
thenceforth allowed no grass to grow under his feet until he was safe at
Ben Beveridge's hotel. Here, of course, there was great rejoicing at the
Colonel's wonderful escape; but, fearing pursuit, it was thought best
that the Colonel should proceed at once to Baltimore, and from thence to
Philadelphia. It was deemed best, too, that he should not start from
the Washington depot, lest detectives be on the watch there for him.
Accordingly, Ben ordered up his own spanking team of bays, and before
daybreak had the Colonel at the Bladensburg station, where he took the
first train that came along for Baltimore. Fearing, however, to go into
the Baltimore depot, lest detectives might be there on the watch for
him, the Colonel got off the train at the Relay House, and gave a man
a twenty-dollar gold piece to drive him into Baltimore, a distance of
about thirteen miles. He went direct to the Fountain Hotel, in Light
Street, where he remained carefully concealed for several days, only
seeing Mr. Thomas, Mr. Wilson, and such others as he knew to be firm
friends of the Southern cause. Then he went to Philadelphia and remained
at Dr. Howell's for about two weeks.
Meanwhile the newspapers of Washington and of the whole country were
publishing accounts about the "wonderful escape of a rebel spy," and
all sorts of guesses were made as to who he was, how he had managed to
escape, who had helped him, where he had gone, etc., etc. Of course,
the whole of Baker's national detective force and all the police and
detective forces of New York, Philadelphia, and of every other Northern
city, were specially charged to search out, arrest, and bring to
speedy justice this "desperate rebel spy;" but not one of them all ever
succeeded in arresting, nor even in ascertaining who this "rebel spy"
was; and not until this shall appear in print will the world at large
ever know who the arrested party was, how he managed his escape, or what
became of him after his escape.
CHAPTER VII. JOHNSON IN A QUANDARY. THE HEART MASTERING THE HEAD.
|There was another incident connected with the running of the land
blockade which, though hardly sufficient for an entire chapter, is too
important and too interesting to allow to pass without notice: for not
until this is published will it ever be known outside of some half-dozen
persons. The incident was as follows:
On one of his blockade-running visits to Washington, Colonel Abercrombie
learned that Senator Andrew Johnson, as it then was (though afterwards
Vice-President, and still afterwards President of the United States),
had rooms at Beveridge's Hotel, the very place that he was making his
headquarters when in Washington. Knowing the Senator to be a fierce,
uncompromising Union man, the news of his close proximity at first
alarmed the Colonel; but, upon reflection, he remembered that Mrs.
Johnson and his mother had long been on the most intimate terms,--that
the Senator knew him personally, and had always treated him with the
utmost kindness,--that he was a man of generous heart, and even though
he should learn of his being there, the danger of his interfering with
him was next to nothing. He therefore decided to stand his ground and
take the chances.
As proximity to danger is always exciting, and, after a time, becomes
attractive, so in this case, what at first seemed alarming, after a time
became so attractive that the Colonel had a longing desire to see and
converse with his old friend, Andrew Johnson. He communicated this
desire to his friend and co-associate in the blockade-running business,
Ben Beveridge, and asked him what he thought of it. Ben, at first,
thought it would not do at all; but, like the Colonel, after thinking
over the matter some time, concluded that it would be a capital joke,
and advised the Colonel to try it.
The Colonel was disguised--so disguised, indeed, that even his own
sister would not have known him, had she met him in the street--and the
arrangement was, that Ben should await in the entry, near the Senator's
chamber-door, while the Colonel went in to talk with him; and that, if
the Senator did not receive him kindly, or if he showed any disposition
to arrest him, the Colonel should at once quit the room, and Ben would
help him to escape.
Everything thus understood, the Colonel went to the Senator's door
and knocked gently. A deep, stentorian voice replied, "Come in but the
Colonel pretended not to hear this, and knocked again, as he wanted the
Senator to come to and open the door, that he might at once step within
the room, whether the Senator invited him to do so or not. The second
knock brought the Senator to the door, which he opened far enough to
face his visitor, when he said:
"How do you do, sir?"
The Colonel replied, and, while replying, stepped within the room, when
the Senator shut the door, and invited his visitor to take a seat. The
Colonel did not sit down, but, taking hold of the back of the chair
offered him, he said to Mr. Johnson:
"You seem not to know me, Mr. Senator. When did you leave Greenville?
and where is Mrs. Johnson and Bob?"
This confused the Senator more than ever, as the visitor seemed to be
familiar with his wife and son, as well as with himself, and yet he
could not recollect to have ever seen him before.
"Well, no," replied the Senator, "I really cannot place you, or call
your name. By jingo! who are you, any way?"
"I guess you don't want to know me," replied the Colonel, "and I had
better be going."
"Oh, no, sir; oh, no," replied Mr. Johnson; "sit down! sit down! When
did you come from Greenville? But really, sir, I cannot recall your
name--I cannot."
The Colonel observed the Senator's confusion, and so enjoyed the joke
that it was some time before he would let himself be known. Then,
suddenly tearing the false whiskers from his face and putting on a
natural expression, he stood revealed before the Senator.
"My God! is this you, Ralph?" was all that Mr. Johnson could say for
some moments; and then added, "Why, Ralph, ain't you in the rebel
service?"
"Well, what if I am?" replied the Colonel; "you don't propose to arrest
me, do you?"
"No, no; but, by jingo! what under heavens brought you here?" said the
Senator; and, going to the door, locked it before the Colonel had time
to reply. "Sit down! sit down!" he added, "and tell me all about it.
What under heavens could have brought you here, or induced you to call
upon me?"
The Colonel then took a seat and explained to Mr. Johnson why he was
there, the nature of his business, and that he had only called upon him
as a good joke, and to renew an old acquaintance; to all of which
the Senator listened attentively, though trembling meanwhile from
excitement. When the Colonel had finished, Mr. Johnson sprang from his
chair, walked hurriedly across the room two or three times, went to
the front windows and pulled down the shades, and then, turning to the
Colonel, said:
"Does anybody know that you are here with me?" Just then Mr. Johnson
heard a tittering in the entryway, and, turning to the Colonel, asked
him if he had any companions waiting outside. The Colonel replied, that
he thought it might be Ben, as he alone knew of his visit. Immediately
Mr. Johnson stepped to the door, and, seeing Ben, asked him to step in.
Ben did so, and now the Senator became more in a quandary than ever. He
scolded both Ben and the Colonel pretty severely, and told them they
did not appreciate the awkward position in which they were placing him;
that, if the Colonel's visit to him were known, it would, under the
circumstances, compromise him in a most serious manner. Ben tried to
soothe the Senator by telling him that the Colonel's call upon him was
only intended as a joke; that it could never be known outside of their
three selves; and that it should never be repeated, if annoying to him.
The Senator replied, that while he was glad, personally, to see Ralph,
yet the fact that he was known to be an officer in the rebel army, and
in his business of blockade-running might by some be regarded as a spy,
made it doubly awkward for him, and, if it were known to the Senate,
might cost him his seat, as well as his reputation as a consistent
Union man; that nearly every one would say that he ought to have had the
Colonel arrested and detained, at least as a prisoner-of-war, if not as
a spy; and that, in holding communication with him without attempting
his arrest, he made himself a party to his crime, whether as a rebel to
the government or as a spy. The more the Senator talked about it, the
graver he became over it, until the Colonel and Ben saw that what
had been intended as a comedy might prove a serious tragedy with all
concerned, and that the sooner they got out of the way the better.
Before leaving, the Senator exacted from each a solemn promise that they
would not repeat the joke under any possible circumstances.
There is no kind of doubt that Senator Johnson felt greatly troubled at
receiving such a visit from an officer in the Confederate service, and
in learning that his landlady's son, Ben, was just as much of a rebel at
heart as the Colonel himself. He knew, too, that his official duty as
a United States Senator was to have both of these men arrested, tried,
and, if possible, convicted, while his heart prompted to a course
directly the contrary. He had long known, and had high regard for, the
mothers of both; the men he had known from childhood upward, and always
liked them, as boys, as young men, as men in active life, and he would
as soon have thought of having his own son, "Bob," arrested as either
of these, and yet his duty plainly pointed in that direction. It was a
conflict between his head and his heart, in which his heart gained the
mastery.
That the Senator did not hold any ill-will against the Colonel or
against Ben for this wild prank of theirs against his Senatorial and
official dignity is proven from the fact that he still continued to
board with Ben's mother at the "Washington House," and within two years
after he became President he appointed the Colonel as one of three
commissioners to reopen and establish mail-routes throughout the late
Confederate States.
[Illustration: 0101]
CHAPTER VII. PRISONERS, HOW USED AND HOW ABUSED. CRAFT AND CRUELTY
PROMPTING THE ACTORS.
|IN General L. C. Baker's "History of the United States Secret Service,"
four chapters are devoted to the subject of bounty-jumpers. In these
chapters the startling facts are disclosed that on investigation, it
was found that only one in four of the enlisted men reached the front
that, in some instances, the entire quota of a township was filled with
the names of bounty-jumpers, not one of whom ever really enlisted or
went to the front; that desertions from the army became so common
that to "even attempt to show, by actual figures, the number would be
impossible;" that "to aid the soldier to desert was deemed to be as much
the legitimate business and calling of the professional bounty broker
as to enlist him;" that in one investigation it was shown, "out of 5,284
enlisted, only 2,083 actually entered the service;" that out of
this number--less than one-half who really enlisted--not more than
three-fourths ever reached the front, and of these probably one-fourth
deserted and returned to the States, to reënlist and receive bounty
again; that of one hundred and "eighty-three who enlisted in one day at
Hoboken and were credited to the quota of Jersey City, every one was
a bounty-jumper;" that case after case came to light where a single
bounty-jumper had enlisted _three_ times, and received three separate
bounties, in _one_ day, and that even gipsy-like gangs were organized,
who travelled from city to city, enlisting such of their number as they
could, assisting such as enlisted to escape, and then on to the next
city or recruiting station to repeat the same thing. Of one such gang
it is related that "in a trip of thirty-two days their total profits
amounted to $32,000."
It is also a matter of record that while skirmishes and battles were
in progress, Union soldiers in the front ranks, and especially if sent
forward as skirmishers, would sometimes throw down their muskets and run
over to the enemy; and it not unfrequently happened that sentinels on
the outposts were missing and never heard of more, or, if heard of,
it would be found they had gone within the Confederate lines and
surrendered.
These matters have all been told, and well told, by other historians,
but not until these "Secrets of the Rebellion" have been published will
it be generally known what became of those who thus threw down their
arms, and of those who thus abandoned their posts, to go over to the
enemy, and that to encourage bounty-jumping in the North, and thereby
promote desertions from the Union army, became, after August, 1863, a
part of the masterly diplomacy or tactics adopted by the Confederate
Government.
Of the bounty-jumpers who first tried the game of going over to the
enemy, under the belief that they would soon be exchanged or paroled,
and thus have opportunities for procuring additional bounties, quite
a number were shot as spies. The "dead-board," as it was called, of
General Lee's army, had a summary way of dealing with all cases which
they deemed of a questionable character. A statement from the person
making the arrest; where found, and under what circumstances; a few
questions to the accused; a consultation of ten minutes among the seven
officers who composed the board; sentence; and on the day following, and
sometimes on the same day, the accused would be seen sitting on an empty
coffin, on his way to execution.
But in August, 1863, a new thought crossed the brain of the
Confederate authorities. They then concluded that, instead of shooting
bounty-jumpers as spies, they could make them serviceable to the
Confederate cause by using them as stool-pigeons, and like as
stool-pigeons are used to draw whole flocks into the net, so these could
be used to corrupt, and bring thousands into the Confederate lines.
In pursuance of this new idea, five large tobacco warehouses, on Carey
Street, each three stories high, directly opposite "Castle Thunder," in
Richmond, were converted into a prison, and called "Castle Lightning."
In this prison, bounty-jumpers alone were put, and the rations furnished
them were doubly as good as the rations furnished the prisoners in other
prisons. Whenever an exchange of prisoners was possible, those in Castle
Lightning were always given the preference, and, when about to leave,
they were told that they should take from the Yankees as many bounties
as they possibly could; that, if again sent to the front, they should
desert, and bring as many others along with them as possible; that they
would always be well treated, and given the best rations the Confederacy
could afford; that they would be exchanged, or otherwise sent back to
their homes, at the first opportunity; and that to secure safety and
good treatment, when coming into the Confederate lines, they should cry
out, "Bounty-jumper! Bounty-jumper!" This was told them not only when
about to leave, but again, and again, and again during their stay, and
the superior treatment they received while prisoners, assured them that
the promises made would all be fulfilled.
Within a few weeks after the return of the first batch of these
bounty-jumpers to the North, the effect of the new policy began to show
itself, and it steadily increased from that time onward. Hardly a day,
and sometimes several times in a day, squads of Union prisoners arrived
in Richmond, and were marched to Castle Lightning, who had voluntarily
come within the lines, and claimed to be bounty-jumpers. Nor was there
scarcely a day in which squads of these same men might not be seen
leaving the prison, on their way to be exchanged, or otherwise sent back
to the Union army, or direct to their homes. Like leaven, its tendency
was to leaven the whole lump, as the authorities of the Confederacy
believed would be the case when they adopted the policy. One such man
in a company would, in time, taint the whole company; ten such men in
a regiment would, in time, taint the whole regiment. When a battle is
progressing, a single regiment, yea, a single company, going over to the
enemy will sometimes so change the tide of battle that what seemed an
assured victory, will prove a most disastrous defeat.
Of course it is not known, never can be known, how many millions of
dollars, nor how many thousands of lives the adoption of this policy
by the South cost the North; nor can the South ever know the amount of
advantage which they derived from adopting the policy; but that it was
a new mode of warfare, and showed great shrewdness on the part of those
who conceived and carried out the project, all will agree in admitting.
Having thus shown how the Confederate authorities used Union prisoners
to benefit their own cause, we will next proceed to state some
additional facts as to the abuse received by other Union prisoners.
The facts which we now purpose to state are not from hearsay, not from
one-sided newspapers, nor from partisan historians, but directly from the
lips of one who had occasion to visit Confederate prisoners frequently
during the war, whose whole soul was in, and with, the Confederate
cause, and who could not be, and would not be, by any who knew him,
accused of sympathy with the "Yankees," as he usually styles Union
soldiers when speaking of them. We have not space to write of all, and
will limit our remarks to only four of the many places throughout the
Confederate States at which Union prisoners were confined.
_First_.--"Libby Prison." This was located in Richmond, and had been
a tobacco warehouse previous to its use as a prison. It was an immense
brick building, three stories high, rough floors, no plastering, a great
number of windows, no fire-places, and no means for heating other than
for the office on the first floor. In this, hundreds of Union prisoners
were thrust and kept for weeks, months, years--some with scarcely enough
clothing left to cover their nakedness, and with no chance for a change;
many without a blanket, even in the coldest winter weather; all without
beds, or mattress, or anything but the hard floor to lie upon. Their
ordinary daily ration consisted of a loaf made from one pint of
corn-meal and one pint of rice soup. Occasionally, though rarely, they
would have bread made from wheat flour and soup made from meat and
bones. Once in a great while they were served with meat, but the
quantity served to each man was so small that it could be taken at a
mouthful. Our informant says he knows of a certainty that some _actually
starved to death_--that others _actually froze to death_--that many
were _wantonly shot_ while thoughtlessly looking out of the windows,
by sentinels on the sidewalks, who had positive orders from Lieutenant
Turner, the officer in command of Libby, to shoot any "d------d Yankee"
whose head might be seen at the window-bars; and that hundreds, yea,
thousands, died from sickness brought upon them by the privations from
which they suffered. We could give other details, but they are too
horrible to write, and would be too sickening to read.
_Second_.--"Castle Thunder." All that we have said of "Libby" will apply
equally well to this prison, except that in some cases the cruelty
of treatment might be _multiplied by two_, and in some instances by
_three._ Here our informant saw prisoners with ball and chain to their
legs, and handcuffed together; chanced to be in the room when the brains
of one of the prisoners were spattered against the wall, by a ball from
the musket in the hands of a sentinel on the pavement two stories below,
and only because the prisoner had dared to look out at a window; learned
of many like cases which occurred before and after that visit; nor has
he any doubt that scores were there inhumanly shot, because of orders
from the officer in command, Captain Alexander. At least one Union
prisoner, a Captain Dayton, was hung on the charge of being a spy. In
this prison, dogs that chanced to stray in were seized, killed, and
eaten; and rat-meat was regarded as a dainty dish.
_Third_.--Salisbury, N. C., was a large enclosure within a high board
fence, on the outside of which was a walk for sentinels, and within
which was the "dead-line," about thirty feet from the fence, to cross
which meant instant death to any prisoner. The "sinks" for the camp were
located on this "dead-line," and at one of his visits our informant saw
the dead body of a prisoner lying in one of the "sinks," who had been
shot by a sentinel in the afternoon of the day before while sitting on
the pole at the "sink." The sentinel, when asked why he had shot
the prisoner, replied that he thought he was trying to come over the
dead-line and therefore shot him. At this same visit our informant saw
sentinels, with guns on their shoulders, pacing their rounds on the
outside of this fence, who were not over twelve years of age, and the
one who had shot the prisoner at the "sink" was scarcely over this age.
The whole regiment on guard at that camp, at that time, was made up of
boys from twelve to sixteen years of age, and of very old men--not one
of all of whom was fit for a soldier. The officer in command, a Major
Gee, was himself a brute, and no more fit to have the care of human
beings than a hyena would be to be placed in charge of a sheepfold.
Here, as at Libby and Castle Thunder, the usual ration was a loaf made
from one pint of corn-meal, each day, and occasionally a small bit
of meat. For shelter most of them had to burrow for themselves, like
rabbits, in holes under ground; and so poorly were they off for clothing
and shoes, that our informant saw scores of men standing about the doors
of hospitals, waiting for the clothing and shoes of those who might die
within. Every morning carts came around to gather up the dead, to take
them without the camp and throw in trenches.
_Fourth_.--Andersonville, Georgia. This was an enclosure of about
twenty-five acres, surrounded by a high stockade, and by earthworks
mounted with cannon. One end of the enclosure was a swamp, through which
crept a sluggish, muddy stream, and this was the only water to which
the prisoners had access. To add to the filthiness and consequent
unhealthfulness of this water, a Confederate camp was located upon it,
above the point where the stream entered the stockade. The few buildings
within the enclosure were scarcely enough for hospital purposes, and
here, as at Salisbury, the prisoners had to burrow in the earth for
shelter. Even in the coldest of weather thousands had no blankets, nor
scarcely clothing enough to cover their nakedness. Their ordinary ration
here, as at the other places named, was a loaf made from one pint of
corn-meal each day, and when, as occasionally they did, receive anything
beyond this, it was regarded as a rare treat. The shooting of men on the
"dead-line" was almost of daily occurrence.
Indeed, many of the prisoners became so crazed from suffering that they
sought death in this way. General Winder was commander of the camp, and
under him was the Captain Wirz who was tried, convicted, and hung at
Washington near the close of the war. Thousands at the South, as well
as at the North, believed then, and believe still, that General Winder,
instead of his subordinate officer, should have stood beneath the
hangman's noose. Undoubtedly he could have corrected these terrible
wrongs had he tried. That he did not try is proof positive that he did
not care. The world at large always gives to commanders the chief credit
of all done by their subordinates, and, on the same principle, holds
them responsible for all that their subordinates fail to do or do
wrongfully. Had General Winder desired his prisoners to have had better
treatment, neither Captain Wirz, nor any other of his subordinates,
would have treated them as they did. How much they suffered none will
ever know. The horrible things related in the foregoing pages, and the
thousands of other terrible things related by others who have written
the history of the Rebellion, are but as drops to the ocean, as sands to
the sea-shore, to all that occurred during the war. Dark deeds seek to
hide themselves always, and while the "secrets" of this volume, and a
few-others, have oozed out since the war, others doubtless quite as
bad have never yet, and probably never will, see the light of day. And
possibly it is best so. There are some deeds that so harrow up one's
feelings that, if related, they would, as said by Hamlet's ghost:
"Freeze the young blood;
Make the two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres;
The knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine."
Or, after hearing them, make us to cry out with Hamlet (slightly
varied)
"O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?
And shall I couple hell? O fie! Hold, hold my heart;
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly up!--Remember them?
Yea, from the table of my memory
' I'll wipe away all trivial records,
All saws of books, all forms, all pleasures past,
That youth and observation copied there,
And these base deeds alone, alone shall live
' Within the book and volume of my brain
' Unmixed with baser matter;
And on my tablets I will set it down
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain!"
We could ourself add more, much more, from what our informant told us;
but our heart sickens over such recitals, and our readers, we are sure,
have had quite enough of it.
The first question, and the most natural question for any one to ask,
after reading the terrible atrocities just recited, would be, Who was or
is accountable for all this suffering?
The gentleman from whose lips we gathered most of the foregoing facts
had opportunities of learning the individual sentiments of President
Davis upon this subject, as upon many others, quite as well, perhaps, as
any man within the lines of the Confederacy, and he assured us that
Mr. Davis regretted, as much as any man could regret, the sufferings of
Union prisoners, and that, whenever reports of their ill-treatment came
to his ears, he at once gave them attention. That, time and again, Mr.
Davis appointed gentlemen of high character to visit the prison-places
we have named, and report to him any and all abuses of which they might
learn; that, again and again, he cautioned, reprimanded, and in some
cases re moved, officers charged with cruelty to Union prisoners; and
that he did whatever it was possible for him to do to mitigate their
sufferings. In view of the high personal character which Mr. Davis bore
before he became President of the Confederacy, and, of the consistent
Christian character he has since borne, it is to be hoped that this is
a correct interpretation of his sentiments with reference to Union
prisoners. It would almost make one lose faith in humanity were it
otherwise.
If President Davis was not responsible, the next most natural question
would be, Who is? and to this answers would differ with almost every
one who might attempt to make reply. While the outrages were being
perpetrated, the people of the North generally held Mr. Davis
responsible for all of them, on the principle heretofore stated; but
towards the close of the war, and during the ten years following the
war, public opinion greatly changed, until few, if any, held him longer
responsible; and now there are not probably ten men in the whole United
States, of such as know anything of the facts, who hold him personally
responsible for these outrages.
Our informant thought the responsibility lay most, if not wholly, with
the officers in immediate command of these prisons and camps. That,
while food was undoubtedly scarce in the Confederacy, still he believed
the prisoners did not get all that the government allowed and paid for;
that while charged only with the safe-keeping of the prisoners, the
officers in command went far beyond this, and made security a pretext
for severity; that they were malicious, vindictive, devilish, and, while
dressed in a "little brief authority," allowed these traits of their
own characters to have full play in torturing those committed to their
keeping. If this, or half of this, be true, God have pity on their souls
when they stand, as all must, before Christ's judgment-seat!
[Illustration: 0113]
CHAPTER VIII. GUERILLAS ON THE WAR-PATH. CUNNING AND DUPLICITY PROMPTING
THE ACTORS.--DESTRUCTION IN THE BACKGROUND.
|THE remark is attributed to General Grant that he had "less dread of
the whole of General Lee's army than of Colonel Moseby's cavalry." To
one unacquainted with the irregular, predatory mode of warfare of these
bands, such a remark, from such a source, would seem impossible; but
when it is known that cunning, deception, downright lying, and any
amount of cruelty needed to their ends, were principles and practices
which they regarded as fair; that they did not hold themselves amenable
to army regulations, nor to the law of nations, but were in all cases
a "law unto themselves," then the wonder ceases, and we can understand
that even so fearless and so wise a general as Grant might have made
just such a remark.
During the war the newspapers of the whole country had considerable to
say about Moseby and his marauding band; and, since the war, all who
have written histories have had more or less to say about him; and yet
not the one-hundredth part of his depredations have ever been recorded,
nor is there one in a thousand, either North or South, who know how his
band was organized, how they operated, or what were the results, except
in a few cases, of their operations. With our army experience of nearly
three years, and with all our reading of newspapers and histories, we
admit to have known nothing, or next to nothing, of the plan on which
his band was organized, of the principles on which they operated, and
of the terrible results of those operations until quite recently. It
chanced, not long since, that we met a gentleman who was an officer
in the Confederate army during nearly the whole of the war, who was
personally acquainted with Colonel Moseby and many of his men, and who
had from their own lips carefully detailed accounts of many of their
daring exploits, at a time when they gloried in them and delighted to
tell them to their friends; and whose personal relations with President
Davis, Adjutant-General Cooper, and others gave him the opportunity
of knowing what was going on _behind_ the scenes, as well as upon the
stage. From him we gathered most of the following facts, and as many of
them have never been published before, we are sure they will be of
great interest, as showing another phase of the acts going on behind
the scenes while the armies of the Union and of the Confederacy were
fighting their battles on the public stage, with all the world as
spectators.
It will be recollected that in the beginning of the Confederate
government troops were called out by proclamation of the President, the
same as at the North. But that, after a time, as the war progressed and
volunteering became less and less, conscription had to be resorted to,
and, finally, that every man at all able to bear arms was called into
the service.
Early in the war Colonel Moseby proposed to the Confederate War
Department to raise a company for "special and _independent_ service,"
meaning guerilla service, though of course he did not use a word so
objectionable in making the application. He was then a practising lawyer
in a small town in Western Virginia, and wanted to keep up his own
dignity as well as that of his profession. The War Department granted
his request, and in a little while his company was full. Finding others
eager to join him, as the young men of his own and of adjoining counties
much preferred to join an "independent" command than go into the
Confederate army (and they soon found they must do one or the other),
he next proposed to the War Department to raise a regiment on the same
basis. This, too, was granted him, and in due time he had about fifteen
hundred men on his muster-rolls, divided up into companies, each with
its captain, lieutenants, sergeants, etc., many of whom were not known
to the general public, nor scarcely beyond their immediate friends and
relatives. All his officers and all his men lived at their homes, on
their farms, in their offices, in their stores, in their workshops,
pursuing their usual vocations; but each was careful to carry, concealed
about his person, a certificate showing that he belonged to Colonel
Moseby's regiment of "independent" cavalry, so that if called upon by
a conscripting officer he could at once show that he was already in the
service. The regiment was called "independent," and was really so, for
the reason that it was attached to no brigade, division, or corps, but
operated and cooperated with other commands only as chance happened
to throw them together. His orders came from the President, or the War
Department, through Adjutant-General Cooper, who directed him whom to
obey as his superior officer for the time being, and to whom to report
at any time for special duty. Many, a great many, of his acts, however,
were done purely on his own volition, on his own responsibility, and
without orders from any superior officer, nor were these acts always
approved by those at the seat of government. Two or three times he was
summoned to Richmond to answer complaints lodged against him; but such
was the influence he exerted with members of the Confederate Congress,
through members of his regiment, many of whom were the sons or near
relatives of some of the most wealthy and most influential families of
Virginia, that each time he came off scot-free, and was worse after than
before.
His ordinary manner of operating was as follows: His officers and
men, as before stated, lived at home, and were only known as citizens,
pursuing their ordinary vocations; and, for the last two years of the
war, a considerable number, probably more than half, lived _within_ the
Union lines, and called themselves "Union" men. From and after the
time when the Rapidan River became the line of the two armies this was
especially so; and after that time nearly all his operations lay
between the Rapidan and the Potomac, mostly in the counties of Loudon,
Fauquier, Shenandoah, and Rockingham. Occasionally he would cross the
Potomac into Maryland, and operate at points between Cumberland City and
the Great Falls.
When from officers and members of his own regiment living within
the Union lines, or from others, he would learn of the contemplated
movements of certain supply-trains, of certain paymasters, of certain
small squads on special duty, he would at once issue orders to enough of
his men to meet him at a particular house, or a particular cross-roads,
at ten or twelve o'clock of a particular night, fully armed, equipped,
and mounted for the service in which they were about to engage.
Sometimes the number ordered out would be ten, sometimes twenty,
sometimes fifty, and sometimes a whole company or more, according to
the force which they expected to meet and overcome. Only when ordered to
join and cooperate with some general commanding officer, would he call
out his whole available force. He had no fixed headquarters, but his
officers and men always knew exactly where to communicate with him, as
he always knew exactly where to find them; and when he issued an order
it was speedily conveyed from lip to lip, and seldom failed to meet with
the expected response. He and his men were all the while on the alert,
and seldom failed to take prompt advantage of any opportunity that
offered. His own men not unfrequently applied for (as farmers' sons
living in the neighborhood) and obtained temporary employment as
team-drivers, blacksmiths, farriers, etc., in the Union army, and in
this way secured information in advance of every contemplated movement,
whether of the army, of supplies, or of detachments on special service.
As soon as such information was obtained, it was conveyed from lip to
lip, until it reached the ears of Colonel Moseby. Then he would decide
whether a raid was practicable or not; and if it was, the needed number
of men were summoned to meet him at a certain place at a set time.
To get through the line of Union sentinels without alarming the whole
Union army, he had numerous stratagems. Having men on both sides of the
line, he knew the exact location of every post, just the hour at which
each sentinel was placed and relieved, and the precise strength of
the squad or company, and where located, from which each sentinel was
detached. Where only a single sentinel needed to be removed, to
allow him and his squad to pass in and out of the Union lines, he was
stealthily pounced upon, disarmed, killed, or otherwise taken care of.
If more than one needed removing, the same operation might be practised
on two or more. Where a whole squad or company needed to be gobbled up,
he had enough of his men to quietly surround them, and, at the blowing
of a whistle or other signal, suddenly pounce upon and take them all
prisoners, usually without the firing of a gun, or with scarcely a word
spoken above a whisper. Secrecy, celerity, and "dead men tell no
tales," were his maxims--and most fearfully did he put these maxims into
practice. It would fill this entire volume to tell all the times; but
the following instances, selected from the many, some of which have and
some of which _never have been told before_, will fully corroborate all
that we have heretofore said, and show the terrible character of the
warfare carried on by this class of men _behind_ the scenes, while the
Union and Confederate armies were contending for the mastery in front of
the scenes.
During the summer and fall of 1863, Moseby's guerillas were exceedingly
active. Almost every night they had some enterprise on hand, large or
small, and while most of them were of such a character as to excite but
little attention and no alarm, yet now and then one would occur of so
startling a nature, and of so villanous a character, as to arouse all
who heard of it, and make every honest man wish that the perpetrators
could be caught and hung higher than Haman. The first we purpose to
relate was of this character, and, so far as we know, this will be its
first publication in historic form, though well known at the time by
everybody in the neighborhood, and by officers in both armies.
The position of Maryland during the war was exceedingly perplexing.
Lying, as it does, midway between the North and the South, her soil was
traversed by both armies, and her people were constantly subjected to
annoyance, if not to danger, from both Union and Confederate troops. As
a slaveholding State, the sympathies of her people were mostly with the
Southern cause, and yet the business relations of many of her citizens
with the people of the North, and her contiguity to Pennsylvania, had
made many of her citizens strongly in favor of maintaining the Union. A
considerable number of her citizens had joined the Confederate army; a
considerable number had joined the Union army; while those who stayed at
home endeavored to remain as nearly neutral as possible. To a Northern
man or a Union soldier, they were all for the Union; to a Southern man
or a Confederate soldier, they were all for Jefferson Davis and the
Confederacy; to one who did not care a fig which side won, they were
quite as indifferent as he dared be. Moseby and his midnight marauders
seemed to have taken, for some cause, a special dislike to the
Marylanders, and the first four instances we purpose to give occurred on
that side of the Potomac.
Mr. B. (our informant had forgotten the name, though he had been at the
place and was entirely familiar with the incident, having obtained
it from the lips of one who was a participant)--Mr. B. was a quiet,
inoffensive old man, who endeavored to live at peace with everybody,
and who was probably as little of a partisan as any man in the State. He
seldom, if ever, talked upon politics, rarely about the war, and, when
upon either, was always careful to do it in such a way as not to offend
his listener. He kept a small country store at a point where two roads
crossed each other, and was as ready to exchange his coffee, sugar, or
molasses, his calicoes, hardware, or queensware, for country produce or
for money, with a Confederate as with a Union man, or with a Union man
as with a Confederate, There was no village about his store, not even
the usual accompaniments of a blacksmith- and wheelwright-shop.
Moseby had taken a dislike to this man. Why, it is not known, except it
be that he sold his goods to Union men and Union soldiers, as well as to
Confederates, when opportunity offered. So far as is known, the man had
never given any personal offence to Moseby or his men, though they had
several times visited his store, usually, if not always, in disguise;
and we may here add, once for all, that when Moseby or his men were
moving about within the Union lines on spying expeditions, they were
always in disguise, and when they went to perpetrate a diabolical act,
they always had their faces blackened, or were otherwise in mask.
On a dark night, or rather about two o'clock in the morning, in August,
1863, ten of Moseby's gang approached this store. One of the men was
lifted up to, and crept in at, a window, and, going to the front door,
unlocked and opened it, that some might enter while others remained on
the outside as sentinels. Closing and locking the door, that there might
be no escape of the inmates, they struck a light and then commenced a
search for persons. They soon found the old man (the owner), two young
men (his clerks or assistants), and a negro boy, all of whom had been
asleep in the house adjoining, or in the second story of the store. As
there were no women in the house, it is probable that he and his clerks
had kept "bachelors' hall." Of course the proprietor, clerks, and negro
boy were very much alarmed at seeing these men with blackened faces
before them, and inquired what it all meant? They were quickly informed
that it meant death to them, and a burning of the building, with all its
contents: All commenced to plead for their lives, fell upon their knees,
and besought their captors to spare their lives at least, whatever other
punishment or destruction they might think proper to inflict; but the
more they plead, the more deaf and the more lost to every sense of
humanity their captors seemed to become. Taking some trace-chains which
they found in the store, the old man, the two young men, and the negro
boy were bound, hand and foot, and then secured to a post or some other
fixed thing within the store. The only reason their captors would
give for all this was that they were "d------d Yankees," that they
had "supplied Union soldiers with food and clothing," that they were
"traitors to the South," etc., etc., etc., all of which was interspersed
with most horrid oaths and curses. When all four had been securely
bound, gagged, and fastened, and their captors had helped themselves
to whatever they wanted of the articles in the store, they left the
building, and in a few moments thereafter it was in flames. Had the
bound captives within not been gagged they would have almost raised the
dead with their cries; but, as it was, nothing was heard save the fierce
crackling of the flames, and in a little while the building and its
contents lay in ashes, mingled and intermingled with the bones of the
four victims. Again Moseby's oft-repeated maxims had found a terrible
illustration, "Dead men tell no tales"--"Dead men never bite!"
The next instance of the doings of this gang of desperadoes which we
purpose to relate, occurred not long after, near Shepherdstown, Md., and
was of a much milder type of villany. We relate it here that our readers
may see, by contrast, that these murdering guerillas were as ready to
do small, mean things, as great, horrid things; and that personal
malice and personal advantage, rather than advantage to the Southern
Confederacy, were sometimes the incentives to their acts.
Lieutenant-Colonel Phillips, though a Marylander, was from the beginning
of the agitation a strong Union man, and, when volunteers were called
for from Maryland, did not hesitate a moment to offer his services
in the Union cause, and became lieutenant-colonel of one of the Union
Maryland regiments. He left at home, in care of his father, a very fine
horse. Colonel Moseby heard of this horse, and determined to become its
possessor. With blackened faces, he, or some of his men, went to the
Phillips' farm at night, stole the horse, and returned to Virginia
the same night. The fact soon after came to the ears of a chivalrous
Confederate officer, who had known Lieutenant-Colonel Phillips when at
the same college with himself, and who, though not liking Phillips now,
disliked meanness still more. He informed General Breckinridge, and
afterwards General Lee, of the theft. General Lee regarded such an act
as a disgrace to the whole Confederate army, and at once sent a written
order to Colonel Moseby to restore the horse. Colonel Moseby demurred,
and tried to excuse the act as a legitimate capture from a well-known
enemy; but General Lee was not to be deceived by any such sophistry, and
insisted upon the return of the horse. The horse was returned!
The next instance, which occurred near Williamsport, Md., not long
after, was of a far blacker and more diabolical character. A farmer
living near this place, and known as a "Dunkard," was believed to
have considerable quantities of gold and silver laid away in pots and
stocking-legs about his house. He was not only a "neutral" in politics
and with regard to the war, but his religion made him a non-combatant
as well. Confederates, of course, denounced him as a traitor to the
Southern cause, and thought he should at least contribute his money, if
not his life, to defend it. He would say nothing, do nothing, no matter
what others might say or do. One dark night three masked men came to his
house, murdered him, and took his money. They were not recognized, not
traced, nor did any one then find out, nor does any one now know, who
really did the deed; but it was then believed, and is still believed,
that Moseby's guerilla band were the perpetrators.
That same fall another instance occurred, in which Moseby's guerillas
were certainly the actors, and which was of a much more warlike
character.
To cut off, gobble up, capture, or destroy paymasters and their escorts,
quartermaster trains; and commissary trains, Colonel Moseby regarded as
his special and particular province, and every one of his men was on
the special look-out for chances of this kind. On the occasion now under
consideration, Brevet Major Paymaster Tilletson was on his way from
Williamsport to Shepherdstown, Md., accompanied by a captain, three
lieutenants, and six privates--the latter and one lieutenant as an
escort, the other officers returning to their respective commands from
sick-leaves. Suddenly, without a moment's warning, Moseby, with a number
of his gang, sprang out upon them, and, holding a cocked pistol at the
head of each, demanded their surrender. Of course, they could do nothing
but submit. Each officer was securely bound, while the privates were
either killed or made their escape. In due time the whole party arrived
within the Confederate lines, when the Union officers would probably
have been made to illustrate Moseby's maxim, that "dead men tell no
tales," had not an officer who had his authority direct from the War
Department met him and ordered him to send the prisoners to Richmond.
Moseby and his men helped themselves to so much of the greenbacks as
they could conveniently carry, while tens of thousands of dollars
were found next day scattered along the road between Williamsport and
Shepherdstown.
Not long after the capture just related, Moseby and his men gobbled up
another squad of officers, consisting of one major, two captains, and
three lieutenants, who had been absent on sick-leaves and were then
returning to their respective commands. After they had surrendered as
prisoners of war, their money, watches, and everything they had of any
value was taken from them. When fairly within the Confederate lines they
were taken into a dense pine-grove, some distance off the road, and then
told they were all to be hung so soon as the needed preparations could
be made. Had a thunderbolt fallen at their feet from a clear sky, these
six Union officers could not have been more surprised. All protested
against such unmilitary, unusual, inhuman treatment--some begged for
life, some wept; but the only reply they could get from Moseby was,
"Prepare for death!" Providentially, as it would seem, one young man of
Moseby's band had a "heart of flesh," and determined, if possible, to
save the lives of these officers. He knew that an officer who had the
authority to command Moseby (the same referred to in the preceding
incident) was at a farm-house only a few miles from the pine-grove in
which they had stopped for temporary encampment, and where these Union
officers were to be executed. Slipping away from his comrades, he
hastened to the farm-house to tell this officer of what Moseby proposed
to do. So soon as the officer was told, he determined to stop it, if
they could only reach there before the men were executed. The officer
and private mounted fresh horses, borrowed from the farmer, and rode
with breakneck speed until they reached the grove. It was quite dark,
but the camp-fires of Moseby and his men lighted them to the spot.
Springing from his horse at the edge of the grove, the officer left the
two horses in care of the young man and hastened to where he saw the
camp-fire burning. Stopping for a moment to survey the scene before
making his presence known, he observed the six Union officers seated on
a log on the opposite side of the fire from where he stood, each with
head dropped upon his breast, each with eyes glaring wildly into vacancy
or suffused with tears, each with lips pale with fear or moving in
silent prayer, and each the very picture of despair in feature and
attitude. Moseby was walking to and fro in front of them, uttering oaths
and imprecations against them; guards stood about them or walked their
rounds silently; while only a little way off, in plain sight, others
were busy throwing over or affixing ropes to limbs preparatory for
execution. It was a scene which only the pencil of a Raphael might have
sketched or a Gorreggio have painted.
The officer, having fully surveyed and comprehended the whole scene,
suddenly sprang from the darkness into the light of the camp-fire, and
in a sharp tone demanded of Colonel Moseby what all this meant.
[Illustration: 0127]
"You see what it means," Moseby replied, pointing to the men who were
affixing the ropes to the trees.
"Who are these prisoners, and what have they done that you propose to
hang them?" asked the officer.
"They are d--d Yankee officers whom I captured this afternoon, and
_purpose_ to hang them to-night. Dead men never bite," answered Moseby.
"I purpose," said the officer, "that you do no such thing; that these
officers be sent under guard to Richmond, and that you yourself report
there at once under arrest." Of course a good deal more was said, and
a great many oaths uttered on both sides, but the above is about the
substance. The Union officers heard and saw all that was said and done,
but were so dumbfounded that they could not say a word or utter a
cry even to each other. When they did finally comprehend it all, they
regarded their deliverer as one sent from heaven, and were ready to fall
down and worship him. The transition from death to life was so sudden,
so unexpected, that it was some time before they could fully realize
whether they were in the body or out of the body, whether their natural
senses were still of the earth, earthy, or whether they had been
suddenly translated to another sphere, where angels only sing "peace on
earth and good will towards men!"
In pursuance of the commanding officer's orders, the six Union officers
were next day forwarded, as prisoners of war, to Richmond; while Moseby
himself soon after reported at the Adjutant General's office under
arrest, to await such action as the authorities might think proper in
his case. And thus, and thus, were the lives of six more men saved from
the infernal clutch and ravenous maw of this hyena in human form.
Not many days after, the same officer who had released from Moseby's
clutch the six Union officers above spoken of, chanced to be riding
along a public highway when he observed, at considerable distance off,
in a deep gully, a man entirely naked, dodging from place to place, as
if in fear or distress. The sight was so strange that the officer turned
his horse's head and quickly rode to the place where he had first seen
the man. Here he found not the one only, but three, all entirely naked,
and all huddled together, as if to protect themselves from each other's
sight. The officer demanded what it all meant. It was some moments
before the men could answer at all, but when they did, they told the
Confederate officer that they were three Union officers who had been
gobbled up the day before by Moseby's guerillas, stripped of everything
they had on earth, even to their shirts, and then left in that woods or
ravine to do as best they might, with the warning, however, that if they
made the least alarm they would be again caught and either hung or shot;
that they had feared to approach any house in their nude state, lest
they might be shot at as ghosts or wild men; that they had not had a
morsel of food for a long time, and that even death was preferable
to longer enduring such suspense and torture. The officer had seen
inhumanity in almost every possible shape, but this, he said, was a
refinement of cruelty which shocked him more than anything he had ever
seen before. He went to a house, not far off, and obtained shirts for
two, and a woman's chemise for one, with such other clothing as they
chanced to have. Thus, partially dressed, he then took them to the
house, where they remained while the officer went to other houses of the
neighborhood to get enough additional clothing to cover their nakedness.
He then had them accompany him to the nearest military command, where he
turned them over as regular prisoners of war. And thus were three more
clutched from the grasp of these bloodthirsty hyenas. Clutched from
death, too, for had they not been seen and rescued by this officer, they
would, in all human probability, have been sought for by the guerillas
next day, and either shot or hung.
There was no month, and probably but few weeks or days, during the
entire war that Moseby's guerillas were not planning or executing some
villanous enterprise against the Union army or Union men; but we have
room only for a few more, and these we will select from his operations
in the Shenandoah Valley and vicinity during the summer and fall of
1864.
In August, 1864, General Sheridan was assigned to the command of the
Middle Military Division, comprising the Middle Department and the
Departments of Washington, the Susquehanna, and West Virginia. Occupying
the Shenandoah Valley, in front of Sheridan, General Early lay, with
about eighteen thousand Confederate troops. To drive these troops out
of, or at least further up, the Valley, and to keep them so employed
that no part of them should be detached from Early to send to Hood in
his defence of Atlanta against the attack of Sherman, was Sheridan's
first concern during the summer and fall of '64. In pursuance of this
plan, on the 10th of August, Sheridan began to move out his forces
from Halltown for the possession of the Shenandoah Valley. When Early's
positions were reached, he fell back, and continued to fall back, until
he reached Fisher's Hill, beyond Strasburg. In pursuing Early, Sheridan
had passed several gaps in the mountains which skirt the Valley, and
left them unguarded. Moseby, learning of this, hastily got together as
many of his guerillas as possible, dashed through Snicker's Gap on the
13th, struck Sheridan's supply-train, which was only guarded by Kenly's
brigade of one hundred days' men, at Berryville, and, before the guard
had fairly recovered from the panic, Moseby had captured the entire
train, consisting of seventy-five wagons, from five to six hundred
horses and mules, two hundred beef cattle, and a large quantity of
stores. He also secured over two hundred prisoners. His own loss was
only two killed and three wounded.
The attack and loss were so sudden, so unexpected, and so exaggerated in
the telling from one soldier to another, that they seemed for the
moment to paralyze Sheridan's entire army; so much so that he deemed
it expedient to make a retrograde movement, which he continued until
he reached, on the 21st of August, a position about two miles out from
Charlestown. While Sheridan was thus falling back from day to day,
Moseby's guerillas hung upon his rear and flanks, treacherously
capturing and killing whenever opportunity offered. In one instance, it
is alleged, after taking some Union cavalrymen prisoners; after, indeed,
they had fully surrendered as prisoners of war and _been disarmed_,
Moseby ordered _every one of them_ brutally murdered on the spot, in
pursuance of his maxim that "dead men never bite." In retaliation for
this terrible outrage, Sheridan ordered that from thenceforth every
house and barn of these half-guerillas, half-farmers in the Valley, that
could possibly be# reached by his cavalrymen, should be destroyed.
Not only in retaliation for this one act, but for scores of other acts
of a like or worse character, of which they were cognizant, and with a
view to strike terror into the minds of such men as had been, and still
were, harboring and encouraging these guerillas--men who were farmers
by day and robbers by night--both General Grant and General Sheridan
determined to inaugurate a wholesale system of devastation in the
localities where these outrages had been mostly carried on--especially
in the Virginia counties of Shenandoah, Rockingham, Loudon, and
Fauquier. As a result of this policy--or, more properly speaking, _as a
result of the outrages which had been perpetrated by Moseby's guerillas_
(for the policy would never have been thought of but for these
outrages)--the following destruction of property is reported to have
occurred in the four counties named, between the 1st of October, when
the policy was inaugurated, and the forepart of December (1864), when
Merritt's cavalry division crossed the Blue Ridge, and made a grand raid
through the upper part of Loudon and Fauquier counties:
In Shenandoah and Rockingham counties--according to the official report
of a commissioner of the revenue to the Richmond authorities--"there
were burned 18 dwelling-houses, 215 barns, 11 grist-mills, 9 water
saw-mills, 2 steam saw-mills, 1 furnace, 2 forges, 1 fulling-mill,
besides a number of smaller buildings, such as stables, etc. The
quantity of grain destroyed is immense. I cannot give you any idea of
the amount of grain, hay, fodder, etc., destroyed, but the quantity is
very large."
In Loudon and Fauquier counties--according to the official report made
by General Sheridan to General Grant at the time--the property burned
and captured was as follows: Burned--barns, 1168; mills, 49; tanneries,
1; factories, 2; distilleries, 6; tons of hay, 27,620; bushels of wheat,
51,500; bushels of corn, 62,900; bushels of oats, 2000; haystacks, 1121;
wheatstacks, 57; stacks of other grains, 104. Captured--horses, 388;
mules, 8; cattle, 5520; sheep, 5837; swine, 1141. Total estimated value
of property destroyed and captured in these two counties, $2,508,756.
It should be added, as a further reason for the destruction of wheat,
corn, hay, etc., that General Lee had been drawing his supplies largely
from these four counties, and it was therefore for the purpose of
crippling Lee's army, as well as to punish these farmers for harboring
and aiding Moseby's guerillas, that this wholesale destruction of
property was planned and executed.
Those who have witnessed the distress following the burning of a single
dwelling-house, or a single barn with contents, in a neighborhood
of farmers, can form some faint idea of the distress which must have
followed the burning of eighteen dwelling-houses, and 1383 barns, with
all their contents, and with all the stacks of grain, hay, and fodder
surrounding them! Even the thought is fearful,--how much more the
reality! After what we have related of the operations of Moseby's
guerillas--and what we have told is not a hundredth part of what might
be told--none of our readers, we think, will question the propriety of
the caption to this chapter, "Guerillas on the War-path--Cunning and
Duplicity Prompting the Actors;" nor, after learning of the destruction
of property which followed, will any one, we think, question the third
line of the caption, "Destruction in the Background!"
[Illustration: 0135]
CHAPTER IX. WHAT BECAME OF SLAVES DURING AND AFTER THE WAR. THE ALMIGHTY
DOLLAR PROMPTING THE ACTORS.--"WE NEBER SEED'EM ANY MORE."
|IT is a well-attested fact, that there were many less slaves, or those
who had been slaves, in the United States on the 9th of April, 1865,
when General Lee surrendered to General Grant, near the Appomattox
Court House, than when the war commenced by the firing on Fort Sumter,
on the 12th of April, 1861. Had there been no war, and had the ratio of
increase been the same from 1861 to 1865 as it had been for the previous
four years, there would have been several hundred thousand more in 1865
than there were in 1861.
It is also well known that from and after the 1st of January, 1863, when
President Lincoln's proclamation of freedom to the slave--issued on
the 22d of September, 1862--went into effect, many hundreds, if not
thousands, of those who had been slaves were taken into the military
service of the United States; that, when captured by the Confederate
forces, they were not recognized as prisoners of war, but in many cases,
as at Fort Pillow, were massacred like so many dogs; that thousands were
destroyed in this way, and that many other thousands died on fields of
battle; that many during the war tried to escape, but, being overtaken,
were killed on sight by their former masters or their agents; that the
excessive amount of labor which they were compelled to perform for their
masters on plantations, and for the Confederate government, in digging
rifle-pits and throwing up fortifications, lessened their power
of reproduction, and caused thousands of premature deaths; but,
notwithstanding all these facts, there still remains a very large number
to be accounted for; and to account for these in part, if not wholly, is
the object of the present chapter.
The facts which we shall relate in this connection cannot fail to be
as startling to our readers as they were to us. They have _never before
been related,_ either in book or newspaper form; nor would they now be,
but that time has wiped out the passions of the war and the limits of
personal responsibility, and made the facts legitimate for the purposes
of history.
That our readers may understand that no animosity towards the South, or
the Southern Confederacy, nor sympathy with the slave in any way,
has led to the divulging of these facts, we may say that Colonel
Abercrombie, to whom we are indebted for the facts, is a Southern man (a
Baltimorian) by birth, and from his earliest recollection was taught to
look upon the negro as a different race from our own--as a chattel, to
be bought and sold, the same as a horse or cow; that he was a captain
in the Thirteenth United States Infantry in the early stages of the
war, but, being convinced that his duty lay with the South, resigned his
commission in the United States army, went South, joined the Confederate
service, and remained as an officer in that service until the close of
the war; and that it was not until soon after the war, when he went from
New York to Galveston by steamship, and from Galveston travelled nearly
all over Texas on horseback, that he became fully aware of the facts
which he detailed to us, and which we now purpose to communicate to our
readers.
The Colonel, Captain Philip Lander, and three others, left Galveston for
Brownsville about the middle of June, 1865. From Galveston to Houston
they went by steamboat; at Houston they purchased mules, and from
thenceforth pursued their journey on muleback. At Columbus they found a
considerable number of Confederate soldiers, who had belonged to General
Kirby Smith's command, and were then on their way to their homes. At
Bastrop they found two companies of United States volunteers doing guard
duty. At Austin, the capital of the State, they found General Sturges
with four companies of the regiment which he commanded, the Seventh
United States Cavalry. About the middle of July, they left Austin
for San Antonio. On the road they saw two men in one place, and one
in another, hanging by the neck to limbs of trees, who had been strung
up there by roving banditti--probably on the suspicion that they were
Union men--and left to hang there as a warning to others. At San
Antonio they found General Magruder, who claimed that he had not yet
surrendered, though "lying around loose," and, as they afterwards
learned, was probably looking after the interests of slave exporters,
rather than the interests of the Southern Confederacy. It was the latter
part of August when they left San Antonio for Brownsville. After five
days' travel from San Antonio, and just before reaching the branch
road which leads to Brazos San Diego, from the main military road to
Brownsville, they overtook a gang of from six to eight hundred negroes,
in charge of, and driven along by, about forty white men, part Americans
and part Mexicans. The negroes consisted of men, women, and children.
There were no old men or old women among them. Some were handcuffed
together; others were tied together with ropes; others not bound in any
way. Some women were carrying children in their arms. All were on foot
and seemed weary from long travel. Their drivers were all on horseback,
some at the front, some at the sides, and some in the rear, all armed
with pistols, all with whips in their hands, and all with curses in
their mouths, which were hurled at the poor negroes on the slightest
provocation. Like cattle drivers, or worse, those at the sides and rear
were constantly hallooing, cursing, and saying to the negroes, "Git
along! git along! Faster! faster!" with an oath between each command.
Many of the women, especially such as were carrying children,
seemed ready to faint from exhaustion, and often turned their faces
beseechingly, and with tears in their eyes, towards their drivers, but
their pleadings were only met by curses, still louder and still deeper,
from their inhuman captors and drivers. Behind the gang were three
two-wheeled carts and an old ambulance, in the first of which rations,
etc., were carried; in the ambulance, besides old clothes, lay a woman
whom the drivers said "was about to kid."
The Colonel and his party rode along with this negro-driving party some
three or four hours, meanwhile gathering from their own lips all they
could relative to the character and extent of the business; how, when,
and where inaugurated; how and to whom they sold their human chattels;
what the profits of the business, and with whom the profits were
divided; what part, if any, the former owner got, etc., etc. The
drivers were not at all disposed to be communicative, nevertheless a
considerable amount of information was drawn from them, part of
which led to other clues, which, being followed up, led to additional
information, the whole resulting in a development of the facts embraced
in this chapter.
When the branch road before spoken of was reached, the negro-drivers,
with their drove of human chattels, turned off for Brazos San Diego,
while the Colonel and his party pursued their way to Brownsville
(opposite Matamoras), which they reached on the following day. Here,
too, they saw a considerable number of negroes in confinement, awaiting
boats to take them down the Rio Grande River and thence to a market.
From Brownsville the Colonel and his party went into Mexico, where they
remained about six months. In February, 1866, the Colonel returned to
Texas, and while stopping some time with Mr. Higgins, a large landowner
and extensive cattle raiser, near Bastrop, overheard a Mexican ask his
son, William Higgins, to get up a fandango at his saw-mills and invite
all the negroes of the neighborhood, in order that he (the Mexican) and
his party might have opportunity to seize some of the negroes and run
them off to a market. This, it will be borne in mind, was about ten
months after the close of the war, about six months since the Colonel
had seen the drove of negroes on the road to Brazos San Diego, and about
_three years_ after President Lincoln's proclamation went into effect,
declaring freedom to every slave within the limits of the Southern
Confederacy.
Of course, the Colonel was surprised at hearing such a proposition, and,
though as much of a pro-slavery man as any one could be after all that
had transpired, still felt curious to know all about this new business,
or old business, as it might happen to be, of kidnapping, running
off, and selling such as had been slaves. His inquiries resulted in
developing the following facts:
For many years prior to the war the breeding and raising of negroes had
become as much of a standard business in Virginia as the planting and
raising of cotton had formerly been, or as the breeding and raising of
cattle still is in Texas. As the lands became poorer in Virginia from
long cultivation, the raising of crops became less and less profitable,
until it was finally discovered that to raise about enough of crops
to supply themselves and their negroes with bread and clothing, and to
devote all else of their thoughts and energies to the raising of negroes
for market and use in States where the climate and quality of soil made
the raising of cotton and rice a remunerative business, would, in the
long run, be much more profitable to them. This, therefore, became the
general sense of the State, and from thenceforth was generally
pursued throughout the State. This necessitated middlemen, or slave
merchants--such as would purchase the slave of the Virginia farmer at
such price as might be agreed upon, take him or her to his place of
business, put them in the best possible trim for a market, and then take
them off in droves to South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, or wherever else
needed, and sell them at private or public sale for the best prices they
could obtain. Whatever inhumanity there might be in such business, it
certainly resulted in large profits, especially to the dealers, and
hence it is not at all surprising that a great many should have been
engaged in it.
When the war commenced there were hundreds, if not thousands, of these
slave-dealers throughout the South. Some went into the army; some, who
had well-filled purses, fled to Cuba, to 'Canada, to Nassau, to England;
while others, too poor to get away, too cowardly to fight, too lazy to
work, and too ignorant to do any business other than what they had
been doing, remained in the country and continued to ply their vocation
whenever and wherever opportunity offered. It was a fixed policy with
the Confederate Government not to allow slaves to be taken or sold
beyond their bounds, and that every possible precaution be taken to
prevent the escape of slaves into the Union lines; but the Government
had no objection to the sale and transfer of slaves from Virginia to
Georgia, or to any other of the Confederate States, and as the Union
army advanced into Virginia, rather encouraged such sales and transfers,
to prevent the escape of slaves into the Union lines. The effect of this
was to make an active and very profitable business for slave-dealers,
and to largely increase the number of slaves in the more southern of the
Confederate States.
When, besides going into Virginia, Union armies commenced forward
movements into Kentucky and Tennessee, into Missouri and Arkansas, it
was deemed expedient to run off a large number of the slaves of those
States into Texas, the better to secure them from capture by the Union
armies, and have them where they could be shipped to foreign ports,
if not thereafter needed by the States of the Confederacy, or if,
peradventure, the Confederacy itself might fail of success. When, on the
16th of November, 1864, Sherman commenced his march "from Atlanta to
the sea," a like necessity of getting slaves beyond the reach of Union
soldiers existed in all the Gulf States, and so far as it was possible
to get them into Texas it was done. How many thousands, yea, how many
hundreds of thousands were thus driven into Texas from other Confederate
States, God only knows, or will ever know!
This particular route was made necessary because of the blockading of
Southern ports; and because once in Texas, they could be held there
until the result of the war was known. It was not, as before stated,
the policy of the Confederate Government to have the slaves taken beyond
their control, as the corner-stone of the Confederacy was to be slavery,
and the more they could have of it the greater, they thought, would be
their prosperity; nor was it the policy of the slave-dealer to take his
chattel beyond the reach of the best market in the world, so long as
there was a reasonable prospect of that market being kept open. In
Texas the dealer had the double chance--either to return with his human
chattels to the Confederate States, in case it became an established
government, or, if that failed, then to ship them from Brazos San Diego,
from Brownsville, from Corpus Christi, from Powder Horn, or from any
other port that might not be blockaded, to Cuba, to Brazil, or wherever
else slavery existed and a market could be found. These slave-dealers
watched the result of the contest between the North and the South with
the same interest that stock-jobbers and gold-gamblers watched the rise
and fall of stocks, and the rise and fall of gold, when they had a large
quantity of either on hand, and were waiting to turn their speculation
to the best possible account. When news would reach them that the Union
armies were carrying everything before them, off would go one or more
cargoes of negroes to Cuba or Brazil. When, by the next mail probably,
news would reach them that the Confederate armies were meeting with
great successes, making it probable that a Southern Confederacy would be
established, they would regret that they had sent any away, and hold
the firmer to those they had left. The price at which slaves could be
sold--especially at forced or hurried sales--in the Brazil and Cuban
markets, was far less than what they could reasonably hope to obtain
in the Southern Confederacy, _provided_ it became an acknowledged
government.
When shipments of negroes were commenced from the Texan ports heretofore
named, and how often, or to what extent they were made, we are unable
to say definitely; but the probabilities are that they commenced
immediately after President Lincoln issued his proclamation of freedom
to the slaves, September 22, 1862, and were made, to a greater or less
extent, thereafter as news reached the dealers elevating or depressing
their hopes of a permanent Southern Confederacy. After Sherman commenced
his march from Chattanooga to Atlanta, in May, 1864, and especially
after he resumed his march from Atlanta to Savannah, in November, 1864,
and still more especially after he commenced his march from Savannah to
Charleston, and thence to Richmond, in January, 1865, the slave-dealers
in Texas thought they saw the handwriting on the wall, "Mene, mene,
tekel, upharsin"--"Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found
wanting," and from thenceforth every steamer, schooner, or water-craft
of any kind, that could carry ten or more persons, and which they could
possibly procure in any way, was secured to run the negroes from Texas
to such markets as it were possible to reach. They could not be taken to
the principal open ports of either Cuba or Brazil, lest, being seen
by an anti-slavery man, the facts might be reported to United States
consuls and thence to the United States government; but they were
taken to out-of-the-way places along the coast of both countries, where
copartners in the business were in waiting to receive and make further
disposition of them. The money received from sales was sent back to the
copartners in Texas by the partner or agent bringing out the last lot,
and thus a flow of negroes in one direction, and a flow of money, with
which to buy more, in another direction, was kept up constantly.
But it was not necessary in all cases to make purchases and payments.
Indeed, towards the close of the war, actual purchases were seldom made,
and after the close of the war, none at all, though the business still
remained active. The plan pursued was this: a dealer would go to a
planter, to a farmer, or to a man living in town or city, and ask him
how many slaves he owned. The answer would be ten, twenty, fifty, one
hundred, or more, as the case might be; but he would probably add,
immediately after, that only one-half, or one-fourth, or less were then
with him--the others were hired out, or with the army, helping to dig
trenches, or running at large, he did not know where. The dealer, after
explaining to the owner the nature of his business, would propose to
take from him a written bill of sale of all the negroes he owned take
his own chances of catching them when and where he could, send them to a
market when and where he could, and divide with the owner whatever might
be the net result of sales. The owner, reasoning from the standpoint
that "a half loaf is better than no bread," and that if the Confederacy
proved a failure he would get nothing at all for his slaves, would enter
into such written agreement with the dealer. With this in his pocket, to
assure him from interference from pro-slavery men, and to prove to all
who might question him that his business was of a "mercantile," rather
than of a kidnapping, character, the dealer and his agents would go
forth to seize the negroes--men, women, and children--for whom he had
bills of sale in his pocket. If resisted by a white man, out would come
his bill of sale to prove title; if resisted by a black man, he was shot
down or hung on the spot; if resisted by the alleged slave, he was at
once handcuffed, gagged, and marched away; if identity was questioned
by a white man, the questioner had to prove property, while the bill of
sale held by the dealer was regarded as _prima facie_ evidence of his
right to the person claimed; if identity was questioned by the person
seized, or by any other colored man, he was laughed at, gagged, or shot
down. In this way thousands were seized, thousands driven from where
seized into Texas, and tens of thousands run from Texas to Brazilian and
Cuban ports.
After the close of the war, the fact that they had been made free by
proclamation and by law spread rapidly among those who had been slaves,
and from thenceforth the business of kidnapping and running them
off became much more dangerous. While travelling through Texas, our
informant met many negroes on the road with pistols at their sides, or
guns upon their shoulders, and, when asked what it meant, they would
reply, "Des am dangerous times, sa; we has to protect ourselves, you
know."
He saw, too, as before stated, both black men and white men hanging to
the limbs of trees by the roadside, some of whom, doubtless, had been
hung there because of resistance to kidnappers. All manner of means were
devised by these kidnappers to catch the negroes when and where they
could make the least resistance and the least noise. Even _ten months
after the war;_ as before stated, one of these dealers--the partner,
probably, of an extensive firm, made up of both Americans and
Mexicans--proposed to William Higgins to get up a fandango, or dance, at
his saw-mills, and invite thereto all the negroes in the neighborhood,
for the purpose, and only for the purpose, of enabling these kidnappers
to seize and run off as many as could be ensnared within the trap, or
got hold of; and, as we have seen, it was _four months after the war_
that the drove of from six to eight hundred negroes were seen on the
road to Brazos San Diego.
It will be a wonder with some readers how it was possible to continue
such a business after Union troops had been stationed at Austin, the
capital of the State, under so able a commander as General Sturges;
and after they had been stationed at Bastrop, and at other large
towns throughout the State. The explanation is simply this: While the
sentiment of the Union troops was entirely opposed to any such traffic,
and while, in pursuance of law, their duty plainly was to hang any man
whom they found engaged in such a business, yet the sentiment of the
white people, among whom the troops were located, was largely, if not
universally, in favor of the traffic, and hence they would not inform
against those who were engaged in it; and had the troops learned of, and
attempted to arrest, any of the parties, every white man of the town or
neighborhood would have risen in arms and attempted the rescue of the
parties. Law, without public sentiment to sustain it, is a dead letter,
or nearly so, under all circumstances, and where public sentiment is
decidedly opposed to a law, its execution is next to impossible.
Another wonder, scarcely less than the first, will be with some
readers, how it could be possible that honorable men--men whose personal
characters before the war were above reproach, either from Southern or
Northern men; men who had led consistent Christian lives, and who had
been regarded as bright and shining lights in their respective church
organizations, could permit such things to be done before their very
eyes, and look on indifferently, if not approvingly. The explanation is
this: Most of this business of running off slaves was done without the
knowledge of the Confederate authorities. Indeed, had it come to their
ears during the earlier stages of the war they would have done what
they could to prevent it, however indifferent they might have been to it
during the last year or last few months of the war. But a far weightier
reason is, that what seems so heinous, so diabolical, so criminal
indeed, to a Northern anti-slavery man, was, in the eyes of a Southern
pro-slavery man, only a fair business transaction, based on Bible
authority, State law, and the law of self-preservation. They regarded
these negroes as much the property of those who had owned them, as
horses or cattle would have been. Nor did they regard the proclamation
of President Lincoln and the acts of Congress, whereby slaves were
declared free, with any more awe or respect than they would have
regarded a like proclamation, or like acts of Congress, if issued or
made with regard to horses or cattle. Hence, to their consciences it was
no more of a sin to seize and run off to a market these negroes during
the war, or even after the war, than it would have been to seize or run
off from the grasp of an enemy a like number of horses or cattle. That
conscience is largely dependent on surroundings, and on education, is
no longer a disputable question among mental philosophers. That the
cannibal, who kills and eats his fellow-man, is just as conscientious
in what he does as the man who kills and eats a lamb, is now a generally
admitted fact. With this philosophic truth as a stand-point from which
to look at the subject, who can doubt that General Polk, who for so many
years had been the universally respected and highly beloved Bishop of
the diocese of Louisiana, was just as conscientious in his advocacy
of slavery, and in his defence of the Southern Confederacy, as Bishop
Simpson was in his opposition to slavery and his advocacy of the Union.
Who can doubt that General Pendleton, who had been for so many years a
reverend doctor in the Episcopal Church, and the head of a seminary
near Alexandria, Va., and who never gave the order to fire without first
raising his eyes heavenward and saying, "God have mercy on their souls,"
was just as conscientious in the belief that slavery was justified by
the Bible, and approved of by God, as John Wesley was in the belief
that "slavery was the sum of all villanies"? Who can doubt that General
Jackson ("Stonewall"), with whom the Bible was a constant companion, who
prayed while he marched, who prayed when he encamped, who prayed even
while directing the movements of a battle, was just as conscientious in
his belief that slavery was right, as Wendell Phillips was that slavery
was wrong; just as conscientious in the belief that the Southern
Confederacy should succeed, in order to make slavery perpetual in this
country, as General Birney was that the Union cause should succeed, if
for no other reason than to wipe out slavery once and forever from the
United States. This, certainly, is the charitable view to take of the
whole subject; nor, with our present knowledge of ethics and mental
philosophy, is it any more charitable than true.
Reason about it as we may, however, the fact remains that tens of
thousands, probably hundreds of thousands, were driven out and run out
of the United States in the manner indicated, and are now, if still
alive, toiling as slaves in other lands; and that many a father, many
a mother, many a sister, and many a brother, after their loved ones had
been thus kidnapped and taken away, without any knowledge upon the part
of their friends, have had reason to cry out in the bitterness of their
souls, "_We neber seed 'em any more!"_
CHAPTER X. THE CONFEDERACY AS SEEN FROM WITHIN. PRIDE, PASSION, AND WANT
IN THE BACKGROUND.
|SINCE the war, we have seen, and had long conversations with, a
reverend doctor, whom we had known for many years previous to the war,
who resided in Virginia when the war commenced, was among the first to
take part in it, and who continued in the service until the war closed.
We have also met other Confederate officers since the war, some of whom
had extraordinary facilities for obtaining information while the war
continued. From all these we learned much beyond anything we had ever
known before, or ever seen in newspapers or books. To put on record some
of the things so learned is the object of the present chapter.
The South well knew, in the very beginning of the contest, that in
point of numbers, in wealth, and in material resources, it was greatly
inferior to the North. They had hope, however, of dividing the North,
or, rather, of having the North divide against itself; and had the
one-hundredth part of the promises made them by Northern men been kept,
there would indeed have been a division of force, as well as a division
of political sentiment, in the North; and the result of such division
might have given the final victory to the Confederacy, instead of to the
Union cause. But what the South relied upon still more, was assistance
from England. They had been led to believe that King Cotton was almost,
if not quite, as powerful in England as Queen Victoria, and they had
laid the "flattering unction to their souls" that so soon as King Cotton
saw those who had made him king in distress, he would rush, pell-mell,
to their rescue; scatter the Yankee blockading squadrons to the winds;
throw open all the Southern ports; bring men, ammunition, clothing, and
provisions to exchange for their cotton, and thus, beyond any reasonable
doubt, insure success to the Southern cause.
As well assured as they felt of all this, they still regarded it as
important to keep all the while the "best foot foremost;" to keep up an
_appearance_ of strength, however weak they might be; to keep up a show
of independence, however much they might be hoping and praying for help.
Like as an expectant bride, though she has the plighted faith of her
lover, will continue to smile, to dress, to allure in every way she can,
up to the very hour of the marriage ceremony, so the South continued to
smile, to dress, to allure, in every way she could, her Northern
allies, who had solemnly plighted their faith to her, and her English
sympathizers, whose pecuniary interests lay all in that direction,
and these things she continued to do up to the very moment when the
Confederacy collapsed, and when it was found that nothing was left of
the egg but the shell. As our reverend friend said to us, over and over
again, and as other Confederate officers have said to us, over and over
again, "none but those within the lines, and behind the scenes, knew of
the destitution, of the suffering, of the heart-aches, of the skeletons
within closets while those who held the keys were smiling as if they
were full of good things, of the turns and shifts which not only the
army but which almost every family in the South had to make, in order
to preserve life, and yet keep up a fair outside show, during those four
terrible years of war." And now for the illustrations--little or none of
which has ever before been published.
After the first year of the war, so much in want of food was the
Confederate army at times, that, in one instance, an officer, with an
escort, travelled sixty miles before he could purchase food enough to
load one six-mule wagon which he had with him. Even then they had to go
within the Union lines, and run very great risk of being captured.
The same officer from whom we learned the above incident, also told us
that, on one occasion, he and the men with him were so ravenous from
hunger that he shot an old sow that had had a large litter of pigs only
the day before, and that while he and his fellow officers ate the meat
(if meat it could be called) of the old sow, his men ate not only the
one-day-old pigs, but even the very entrails of the mother.
On another occasion this same officer shot an opossum that had just been
having its young, and while, under ordinary circumstances, he could no
more have eaten its flesh than he could have eaten a viper, yet such was
his hunger at the time that the dish seemed palatable. Often, he said,
he had gone for a whole day, and occasionally two or three days at a
time, without one "square meal;" and this he knew to be an ordinary
experience among officers of the Confederate army, especially during the
last year of the war, and largely so during the two or three last years
of the war. Certainly, if there was an officer in that army who had
opportunities to live on the "fat of the land," he was one of them, and
if he suffered thus, God only knows what must have been the sufferings
of others!
Early in the war, coffee became scarce, and, during the last year or
two, hardly to be had at all within the lines of the Confederacy. To
procure it, all manner of devices were resorted to. On one occasion,
when two sentinels were within calling distance of each other--one on
either side of an intervening deep ravine--a Confederate officer present
told his sentinel to ask the Union sentinel whether his company had
any coffee which they would exchange for tobacco. The Union sentinel
inquired of his captain, and after a time hallooed back that they had
of their company rations a bag of coffee left over, which they would
exchange for tobacco, provided they could make a good trade. The
Confederate officer instructed his sentinel to reply that they would
give twenty-five boxes of plug tobacco for one bag of coffee. The offer
was accepted, and as soon after as the coffee and the tobacco could be
brought to the spot, the Union sentinel rolled down the bag of coffee,
the Confederate sentinel rolled down the twenty-five boxes of tobacco,
to the foot of the ravine, when, with assistants, each took away the
article traded for--hostilities being suspended meanwhile. Each of the
parties was highly pleased with the trade. Before the war one or two
boxes of tobacco would have brought in the New York market as much, if
not more, than one bag of coffee.
Pins and needles became so scarce in the Confederacy that at least one
man--a Mr. Webster Sly, of Charles County, Md., brother to a celebrated
doctor in that vicinity--made quite a fortune by smuggling trunks full
of these articles across the Union lines and selling them within the
Confederate lines.
As early as 1863, one of our informants saw dogs in the streets of
Charleston so emaciated that they could scarcely walk, and at one time
saw one of these animals leaning against a fence and chewing upon an old
shoe. In that city and in Richmond he knew of families who had once
been wealthy that were, during the war, compelled to sell not only
their clothing, but even their beds, to procure food to live upon. Our
reverend friend himself, though at one time the owner of a handsome
house and of slaves, had, while at Petersburg, been compelled to live,
with his wife and daughter, in a garret, and upon food that a dog would
scarcely have eaten under ordinary circumstances.
Not only did such destitution prevail throughout the Confederate States
during the war, but still worse evils prevailed, engendered by pride,
jealousy, and passion. While this fact was carefully concealed from
Northern eyes and ears, and from English eyes and ears, yet it prevailed
to an alarming extent, and when occasionally it would burst forth in
such violence as to cause death, no mention of the fact was made in the
newspapers at Richmond lest it might reach Northern or English ears.
Almost at the beginning of the war two parties sprang up in the
Confederacy, known as the "Davis party" and the "Stephens party."
President Davis advocated one line of policy; Vice-President Stephens
advocated another line of policy. Their respective friends took sides,
each with his chief, and so bitter became the strife between the two,
that when the Government was removed from Montgomery to Richmond Mr.
Stephens would not come there to preside over the deliberations of
the Senate. At one time, in 1863, the strife between their respective
partisans in the Confederate Congress, then meeting in Richmond, became
so great, that a Virginian (a Davis man) shot and killed a Georgian
(a Stephens man) upon the floor of the House for some words uttered
in debate. The excitement for the moment was intense. Pistols and
bowie-knives were drawn by dozens of Congressmen, and it seemed that
many additional lives would have to be sacrificed then and there before
the affray could end, but erelong quiet was restored and the dead body
of the slain member removed from the chamber. Our informant saw the dead
body as it was carried along the street, inquired after and learned all
the incidents of the bloody affair, but neither on that day nor on any
day thereafter was a word said about it in the Richmond newspapers.
Another cause of much irritation, much jealousy, and much bad blood,
arose in the appointing of general officers for the Confederate army.
Mr. Davis, being himself a "West-Pointer," it was not unnatural that he
should prefer, in all cases, graduates of West Point; but, as the people
of the several States had to furnish not only the money, but the men for
the army, it was not unnatural that they should desire to see some of
their leading citizens in command of the men they furnished. The people
believed that brains were quite as essential to success as technical
military knowledge, and were not willing to trust all their interests,
personal and pecuniary, to the direction of such as knew little or
nothing beyond military tactics. The demand became so strong and so
persistent that the administration yielded, so far as to appoint Bishop
Polk, Rev. Dr. Pendleton, John C. Breckinridge, and Bradley Johnson, to
generalships; but beyond this, few, if any, held high positions in the
army, other than West-Point-ers. Towards the close of the war, General
Lee said, at a dinner given to army officers, at Orange Court-House,
near his headquarters, that from thenceforth the "policy of the
government would be to give promotion to such, and such only, as fairly
earned it on the field of battle, without regard to their previous
military education." This speech was reported at once in every part of
the Confederacy, and as he was presumed to speak by authority, it had
the effect to quiet, in a great measure, the excitement which had so
long existed relative to military appointments.
Another source of demoralization, and, consequently, of weakness in the
Confederacy, was the disposition to gamble among so many of its officers
and leading citizens. At Richmond, while so many, who had been affluent,
were almost starving; while the gradual disappearance, and finally the
entire absence, of cats and dogs in the city, proved that meat other
than lamb was supplying the tables of many of its citizens; while even
the highest officers of State were, at times, sorely perplexed about
food for their families, the gambling houses of that city were doing
a splendid business, and furnishing free lunches to their patrons far
superior to what could be found upon the table of President Davis or any
member of his cabinet. Indeed, it became well known among Confederate
army officers, and among the leading gentlemen of the city as well, that
the best eatables and the best drinkables to be had in the Confederacy
were to be had at these gambling saloons, and many a one was induced to
patronize them on this account more than on any other. It was said that
the proprietors of these saloons could obtain, and did obtain, supplies
from the North, when the highest officers and the wealthiest men of
Richmond could not obtain them. How done, except through pals and noted
gamblers, some of whom were well-known spies, and often in Washington,
was never known. Notwithstanding the expensive free lunches given by
these gambling houses every day, they made immense amounts of money.
What they made in gold and greenbacks they carefully stored away, or
made use of in the purchase of supplies. What they got in Confederate
money they invested in real estate, so that, when the war ended, the
gamblers of Richmond owned more real estate than any other class of
persons, if not more than all other classes combined. What was true of
Richmond, in all these particulars, was probably true of every other
city in the Confederacy.
Still another source of weakness in the Confederacy was the lack of
confidence; almost from the beginning, in the currency issued by
the government, or by its authority. It was thought to be a terrible
condition of things in the North when a gold dollar commanded $2.85 in
greenbacks; when muslin, that had sold for ten cents per yard, sold for
thirty; when coffee, sugar, meats, almost everything, commanded double,
and, in some cases, treble the prices at which they had sold before the
war; but these were as nothing when compared with the South. A single
chicken leg, or a single chicken wing, with a small piece of corn-bread
tied to it, sold at from one to two dollars at many of the railroad
depots; a drink of brandy or whiskey, at the Ballard House, Richmond,
cost five dollars; a single meal, at the same house, ten dollars; a
gentleman's dressing-gown, smuggled through from the North by a land
blockade-runner, sold, in Richmond, for eleven hundred dollars. Of
course, all these prices mean Confederate currency. Such as were wise
enough to invest their Confederate money in real estate had something of
real value after the war. Such as failed to do this, had large amounts
in what purported to be money, but not one penny in real value, after
the war ended. Every dollar of gold or silver that came within the
Confederate lines, after the second year of the war, was either hoarded
or hid away, or expended for needed supplies, in which case it soon
found its way back to the North or to England.
And thus we close this tenth scene of the drama, in which we have
endeavored to give our readers a glimpse of the Southern Confederacy as
seen from within; and to show, too, that pride, passion, and want formed
a fearful picture in the background.
[Illustration: 0161]
CHAPTER XI. HOW ORDER WAS MAINTAINED. KINDNESS AND POWER (HAND-IN-HAND)
BEHIND THE SCENES.
|THE city of Alexandria is situated about seven miles below Washington,
on the Potomac River. It was at one time a part of the District of
Columbia, but, by a subsequent arrangement, was retroceded to Virginia.
Prior to the war it was a place of considerable business; contained,
probably, thirty thousand inhabitants; had some fine streets, and a few
handsome buildings; and was a favorite place of resort, as well as of
residence, for the more wealthy and influential citizens of that part of
Virginia.
After the war commenced, by the firing on Fort Sumter, the first object
of the United States Government was to save Washington from falling into
the hands of the enemy. Between the 18th of May and the 23d of June,
1861, thirty-one fully organized regiments and three independent
companies arrived in that city. Of these, four were from Pennsylvania,
also the three independent companies, four from Massachusetts, eleven
from New York State, four from New Jersey, two from Rhode Island, three
from Connecticut, one from Michigan, and two from Ohio. These regiments
numbered about 28,000 men. Besides these, there were about 4,000
District of Columbia militia, organized under Colonel Stone, and about
4,000 regular United States troops. All these were concentrated, thus
early, for the defence of the capital, and to form a pivot for future
movements.
Though these volunteer regiments had had but little opportunity for
drill, the impatience of the North soon made it necessary for them to
make a forward movement of some kind; and, as Alexandria was the most
approximate point, and as a considerable force of the Confederates were
known to be concentrated there, it was resolved to make an attack upon,
and, if possible, capture that city. Accordingly, at midnight on the
23d of May, 1861, a small force was pushed across the Long Bridge to
the Virginia side, to clear and hold the head of the bridge; and at two
o'clock on the following morning a considerable force left Washington on
foot, while a regiment of Zouaves, under command of Colonel Ellsworth,
left on two steamers--all for Alexandria. The movement was so concerted
that the force on foot reached the outskirts of the city at the same
time that Ellsworth's force reached the wharves. The Confederate force
at Alexandria was far too small to contend with the Union force sent
against them, and as the one entered the other retired from the city.
But for the unfortunate death of Colonel Ellsworth, who was shot by
James Jackson, the proprietor of the Marshall House, while the
former was removing a Confederate flag which had been flying from the
flag-staff of that hotel, and the killing of Jackson, which followed
immediately after, there would have been no blood shed in the capture of
that city.
Not only did the Confederate troops retire on the approach of the Union
troops, but a large number of families and single citizens left at the
same time. Indeed, for several days previous to the coming of the Union
troops, it was well known in Alexandria that they were coming, and many
of its citizens, some of whom owned farms in other parts of Virginia,
some plantations in other parts of the South, and others who had friends
and relatives in other parts of the State, or in other parts of
the South, had all quietly left for their respective farm-homes,
plantations, or friends. Some who could not leave thus suddenly went
as soon as they could thereafter, so that, before a Union line had been
fully established beyond Alexandria, probably two-thirds of its citizens
had left, leaving only about ten thousand out of a previous population
of about thirty thousand.
Immediately thereafter, however, the Union forces commenced to establish
camps at points beyond, yet not far from, Alexandria. Near the Seminary
buildings, only a few miles from the city, a considerable number of
troops were encamped; while, at Malvern Hills, at Edsall's farm, at or
near Fall's Church, and at many other points, regiments, brigades, or
whole divisions were located. As a consequence of this, notwithstanding
Alexandria had been so largely abandoned by its own citizens, its
streets were more thronged with citizens and soldiers combined, its
drinking saloons were more frequented, and there was more of bustle and
confusion generally in the city during the summer, fall, and winter of
1861 than there had ever been in any past period of its history.
With the hasty leaving of the leading citizens of Alexandria had gone
whatever it had possessed of municipal, county, or State government. The
mayor and members of the city council had fled; all the State and county
judges had fled; the county clerk, the surrogate, and every other county
officer had fled; nor was there a single justice of the peace, a
single constable, or a single police-officer--or, at least, not one
who declared himself as such--left in the city. There was no formal
announcement of the establishing of martial law within the city limits,
but its possession by Union troops made it virtually so from the moment
they took possession.
The battle of Bull Run occurred on the 21st of July, 1861, and although
Alexandria had been bad enough before that time, it was still worse
after. For some time after that battle the Union army seemed utterly
demoralized. The commanders of regiments, brigades, and divisions seemed
for the moment to have lost all control over their men. Officers and
men, instead of remaining in camp to drill, flocked into Washington and
into Alexandria by scores, yea, by hundreds, every day. Hotels, drinking
saloons, restaurants' houses of ill-fame were all doing a rushing
business, and meanwhile the legitimate duties of the officer and
the soldier were almost wholly neglected. General McClellan reached
Washington, and assumed command of the Army of the Potomac, on the 26th
of July, 1861, and on the 30th issued an order in which he said, "The
general commanding the division has with much regret observed that large
numbers of officers and men stationed in the vicinity of Washington
(his command included Alexandria and beyond as well) are in the habit
of frequenting the streets and hotels of the city. This practice is
eminently prejudicial to good order and discipline, and must at once be
discontinued." This order had a salutary effect to a certain extent, but
it by no means cured the evil. It made officers and men more careful to
procure leaves of absence and passes before leaving their camps; for, if
found in Washington or Alexandria without such leave or pass, they were
liable to be called upon by the provost-marshal, or arrested by the
provost-guard; but, after the first week or two, in the lessening of
numbers the effect of the order was hardly perceptible. The hotels,
drinking saloons, restaurants, and houses of ill-fame still continued to
do a thriving business; while fights in saloons, brawls in the streets,
insults to persons walking the streets, thefts, robberies, and the like
misdemeanors, were of almost daily and nightly occurrence.
Such was the condition of things in Alexandria, when, in August, 1861,
General William R. Montgomery, who had been the Colonel of the First
New Jersey regiment of volunteers, but had recently been promoted to
a brigadier-generalship, was detached from his command, then encamped
near the Seminary buildings, and assigned to the command (as Military
Governor) of Alexandria. He had for his Assistant Adjutant-General,
Jacob R. Freese, of Trenton, N. J., who had been an active business-man
all his life (he was then about thirty-five years of age), and who for
the four years immediately preceding the war had been the editor and
proprietor of the _State Gazette_, one of the leading newspapers of the
State. General Montgomery was then about sixty years of age, a graduate
of West Point, had been connected with the regular army nearly all his
life--a perfect gentleman in his manners, mild, quiet, unobtrusive,
exceedingly kind and gentle; but knew comparatively nothing of business
life, and had hardly been in a police-office or a courtroom during his
whole life. Though no officer in the army was truer to the Union cause
than he, yet so exceedingly kind was he in his general disposition,
so disliked to refuse any favor asked of him, and so averse was he to
punishment of any kind, that he soon found his new situation a very
perplexing one. Hardly had he assumed command, before such of the
secessionists as remained in Alexandria commenced to ask favors at his
hands. In all cases, where he possibly could, it gave him as much or
more pleasure to grant their requests than for them to receive the
favors. This soon became known to extreme Unionists, who thereupon
called the General "a rebel in disguise." When this came to the
General's ears, it distressed him greatly. It also distressed him
as much, or more, to learn that some Alexandrians who remained were
practising great cruelty towards some white citizens, and especially
towards their slaves, because they had dared to express Union
sentiments. And still another source of great annoyance to him was, that
great numbers of soldiers came into the city every day--some got drunk,
abused citizens, created brawls in the streets, and then left without
so much as saying "by your leave, sir." Other disputes and disturbances
were occurring, almost daily, among the citizens, which, when all
other means failed, would be referred to him for settlement, since, as
heretofore stated, there were no courts left in the city to whom such
disputes could be referred. To organize a court-martial and keep it in
session all the while would take a number of officers from their regular
duties, and seemed utterly impracticable. To undertake to arbitrate
and decide all cases himself, seemed not less impracticable, if not
impossible; and as to prescribing punishment to others, he would almost
prefer to take it upon himself.
Every day he talked these troublesome matters over with his Assistant
Adjutant-General, and finally requested him to draw up, and submit to
him, in writing, a plan for governing the city. This he did on the day
following the request. The leading feature of the plan submitted was
to organize a provost-court, over which some officer should preside as
provost-judge, who should hear and adjudicate all cases of whatsoever
kind brought before him. To arrest delinquents and enforce the orders
of the provost-court, the plan proposed that the soldiers, detailed for
sentinel duty in the city, should be organized into a provost-guard,
with a provost-marshal at their head; that both the marshal and guard
should be subject to the direct orders of the provost-judge; and that
the provost-judge should submit his doings, every day, to the military
governor for his approval, amendment, or reversal, since he alone was
responsible to the general government for what was done within his
command. General Montgomery considered the plan carefully and decided
to adopt it. He then asked his Adjutant to accept the appointment of
provost-judge, and perform its duties, in addition to such as he had as
Assistant Adjutant-General of the post. At first the Adjutant declined,
not seeing how it was possible for him to perform both duties, since
either one of them seemed quite as much as any one man could perform.
The General urged that, as he would be held officially responsible for
whatever the provost-judge might do, he must have some one in whom he
had implicit confidence, some one whom he could see and converse with at
every meal-time, some one who was familiar with the workings of courts
of justice, and since he, the Adjutant, had drawn up the plan, there was
no one whom he could detail that could put the plan in operation so
well as he. The Adjutant, on the other hand, urged that his duties were
already quite as much as he could perform satisfactorily to himself;
that almost every day he had quartermaster, commissary, and hospital
reports to examine and sign; passes and permits to consider and issue,
etc.; all of which involved the writing, "By order of Brigadier-General
Montgomery, J. R. Freese, A. A. G.," from one hundred to five hundred
times each day, which usually occupied every minute of his time. It was
finally arranged that the General should detail two additional clerks
for the Adjutant's office, and one to write up the records of the court
at every sitting, and thereupon the Adjutant consented to enter upon
the additional duty of provost-judge of the city. The General issued the
necessary order, over his own signature, and on the day following the
Adjutant entered upon his new duties.
The court-house had not been used for any purpose since the evacuation
of the city by the Confederates. Men were now put to work in cleaning
and fitting it up for the purposes of the new provost-court. A large
building on the outskirts of the city, which had been used for the
temporary detention of slaves, and therefore called a "slave-pen,"
was cleaned and fitted up as a guard-house. The old jail was cleaned,
whitewashed, and renovated generally. A large, empty building, in the
heart of the city, was fitted up for the provost-marshal's office, and
as quarters for the guards. Captain Griffiths, of Pennsylvania, the
senior captain of the companies then on duty as sentinels, was appointed
provost-marshal, and the two companies then on duty organized as a
provost-guard. The duty assigned them was to arrest every drunken
man--officer, private, or citizen--whom they observed to be disturbing
the peace of the city, whether at hotels, drinking saloons, on the
streets, or elsewhere; to take them, so soon as arrested, to the officer
in charge at the guard-house and report all the facts to him; if
the officer at the guard-house deemed the complaint to be of such
seriousness as to require a further hearing, the arrested party was to
be locked up until the next sitting of the provost-court, when he was to
be brought before that court for trial. This was to be the procedure
not only in cases of drunkenness, but in all other cases of petty
misdemeanor. If, however, the offence was of a more serious character,
the party arrested was to be taken at once before the provost-marshal,
and all the facts immediately after reported to the provost-judge. If
he deemed the charges sufficiently strong to hold the arrested party, he
was then to be sent to the county jail and there held until next day, or
until the court was ready to try the case, which usually was on the
day following the arrest. It was arranged that a session of the
provost-court should be held every day (Sundays excepted) at the
court-house, commencing at ten o'clock, and continue until all the cases
were disposed of. Usually this could be done between ten and twelve
o'clock; but occasionally the sessions extended until late in the
afternoon.
After all needed arrangements had been completed, the Judge's
horse--saddled, bridled, and with a pair of loaded revolvers in the
holsters--might be seen every morning, at precisely nine and a half
o'clock, standing before the General's headquarters. At precisely a
quarter to ten, Judge Freese would come out of the Adjutant's office in
full uniform, mount his horse, and, usually on a full gallop, ride
to the court-house, about a quarter of a mile distant from the
headquarters. On reaching the court-house the Judge dismounted, a
soldier took charge of his horse, and he passed in to take his seat
on the bench. Generally, the guards, and the prisoners from the
guard-house, were already in waiting--every guard standing at attention,
with loaded musket and fixed bayonet. It was from this fact that it
was sometimes designated, by New York journals and others, as "Judge
Freese's Bayonet Court." The clerk, acting as "crier," then announced
that the "court was now open for business," and immediately after handed
the Judge a list containing the names of all the prisoners at the
bar, with the nature of the offence charged against each. The Judge,
beginning with No. I, would call for the evidence of the sentinel making
the arrest, and then for the evidence of others who might know anything
of the case. When the evidence for the prosecution had closed, the
accused was asked to say anything he could in his own defence, and to
produce any witnesses he might have. It was plainly to be seen that
the Judge always leaned towards mercy; that he encouraged and aided the
prisoner in the making of a defence, if any were possible; that never,
at any time, did he speak harshly to a prisoner at the bar; but even in
his sentences so tempered his words with kindness and good advice as to
make the accused determine to do better in the future. At no session of
the court, nor at any time after, was a prisoner ever known to complain
of his treatment by the Judge, such was his uniform kindness and
courtesy towards all who were brought before him, whether citizens or
soldiers, white or black. When all the evidence was in on both sides,
the Judge announced the sentence and the clerk recorded it The book in
which the record was kept was open to the inspection and revision of the
General commanding (military governor) every day, so that he might, if
he chose, at once change or reverse any sentence which the Judge had
passed upon any prisoner. The number of cases tried each day varied
from ten to thirty. Most of them were of a minor character, and the
punishment, consequently, very light Often the one day or one night's
detention in the guard-house, which they had already received, was
deemed sufficient; in other more serious cases, a fine of from one to
five dollars, or further confinement in the guard-house or in the jail
from one to five days, was imposed; but now and then a case of far
graver character was brought before the court, one of which we will now
relate.
Mr. A. was an old resident of Alexandria, and for many years had been
engaged in business as a hardware merchant He was a Virginian by birth;
a man of general good character, a hearty secessionist, and would have
gone when the others left, only that his family and his business were in
such condition that the one could not be removed, nor could the other be
closed without very great discomfort and a large sacrifice. He therefore
concluded to take his chances of remaining, and did remain.
Mr. B. had been a resident of Alexandria for several years. Had been one
of the builders, and was then superintendent, of the gas-works of that
city. He was a New Englander by birth, and an earnest Unionist from the
day the contest opened between the North and the South. Though a very
quiet man, and never speaking upon political or warlike matters, except
when in situations where he must speak or show cowardice, yet when thus
compelled to speak he never failed to express his honest sentiments.
Messrs. A. and B. had been warm personal friends for several years,
the latter purchasing all the hardware needed for the gas-works of the
former, and being in his store frequently, as well for pastime as
on business. Until the war commenced there had never been a word of
difference between them, and since it commenced they had rarely spoken
upon the subject, for each well knew the others sentiments, and neither
desired a rupture of friendly relations. On the day in which a rupture
did occur, Mr. B. went to Mr. A.'s store to make a purchase of some
article, when in some way the conversation between them turned upon the
war. For some cause Mr. A. seemed to be in a specially bad-humor that
day, and very soon commenced to use most violent language toward the
"Yankees" and the Union troops. Mr. B. replied, at first very mildly,
but one word led to another, until erelong both became angry and talked
loud. All of a sudden Mr. A., who was a large, powerful man, seized Mr.
B., who was a much smaller, weaker man, by the throat, and hurled him to
the floor. Then, seizing a large butcher-knife which chanced to lay
upon the counter, he held it threateningly over B.'s breast, and said
he would kill him instantly unless he would promise not to report
the conversation they had had and the difficulty following it to
Provost-Judge Freese. Of course, such noise and confusion brought others
into the store, and before the promise could be exacted others had
seized and dragged Mr. A. from off his prostrate antagonist. Mr. B. went
from the store direct to military headquarters and reported all that had
occurred to Judge Freese. A formal statement, as detailed by Mr. B., was
then drawn up by the Judge and subscribed and sworn to by Mr. B. It
was then afternoon, and too late to try the case that day. The Judge,
therefore, issued an order to the Provost-Mar-shal to arrest Mr. A. at
once, lock him up in the county jail, and bring him before the court
next morning at ten o'clock--all of which was done precisely as ordered.
The arrest of so prominent a man as A. spread throughout the city at
once. Before sundown there was scarcely a man or a woman in the whole
city who did not know of it, and General Montgomery was besieged by Mr.
A.'s wife, by his daughters, and by several of his secession friends to
order his release at once. The General, having learned the facts from
his Adjutant, only replied that "things must take their course; that the
trial, and that only, could develop whether Mr. A. was guilty or not,
and, if he was, he could not and would not interfere with the Judge in
the infliction of a proper punishment, however much he regretted the
difficulty and sympathized with those who were afflicted by it."
The next day the court-room was crowded in every part, and promptly at
ten o'clock the crier announced the court open for business. After all
the other cases had been disposed of, that of Mr. A. was called. The
witnesses, both for the prosecution and for the defence, were examined
carefully and patiently by the Judge and by the defendant. Then the
defendant was invited to say whatever he could in his own defence. The
defendant had a lawyer present to suggest and prompt him, but the lawyer
would not appear as his formal attorney, for the reason that some time
before the Judge had announced that, as that was a United States court,
no lawyer could appear in it, as attorney for another, unless he would
take, if asked, the oath of allegiance to the United States Government,
and the lawyer present being an avowed secessionist, he well knew that
if he attempted to act as an attorney for his friend A., he would at
once be tendered the oath of allegiance to take or refuse. He therefore
contented himself with whispering in his friend's ear, without presuming
to appear as his attorney. The facts, as heretofore stated, were all
proved beyond any possible doubt. Indeed, the defendant himself scarcely
made a denial of any one of the statements made by Mr. B. He only
pleaded, in extenuation, that he had no ill-will towards Mr. B., and
that whatever was said or done was from an excess of passion for the
moment, which he could not control; that he greatly regretted all that
had happened, and would promise the court that the like should never
happen again. He also produced several witnesses to prove his previous
good character.
Before pronouncing sentence, the Judge took occasion to say that the
court had been organized for the special purpose of maintaining the
peace of the city. That, in the absence of all other courts, this was
the only judicial power to which citizens of Alexandria could look for
the protection of their lives and their property, and in this respect
it was as much of a protection to the avowed secessionist as to the
Unionist; that the lives and the property of the one or of the other
were equally under the protection of the court. While, he added, the
court could not, and would not, recognize secession as a legal right,
and while no secessionist, as such, could have any legal standing in
that court, professionally or otherwise, yet the court would, at all
times and under all circumstances, use whatever power it possessed to
protect the lives and property of avowed secessionists. If, then, it
was thus ready to protect secessionists in their personal and property
rights, certainly it should not be less willing to protect Unionists.
Nor would it be less ready to protect Union men so long as he remained
the Judge of the court. In conclusion, the Judge said that, in
consideration of Mr. A.'s previous good character, in the absence of all
premeditation, and in consideration of other extenuating circumstances
surrounding the case, he would make the sentence of this defendant very
light, but gave fair warning, then and there, to all the residents of
Alexandria, and to such as came within the jurisdiction of the court,
though not residents of the city, that should there be any further
assaults upon Union men, whether by word or by act, the court would
punish the offender with much greater severity. He then sentenced Mr.
A. to pay a fine of five hundred dollars, and to stand committed to the
county jail until the fine was paid. "Of course," the Judge added, "this
does not relieve Mr. A. from the payment of damages to Mr. B. for any
injuries he may have sustained at the hands of A., and for which he may
choose to prosecute in an action for damages." The court then adjourned,
and Mr. A. was ordered back to the county jail until the fine was paid.
Mr. A. and his friends were very indignant at the sentence; said it
should never be paid; that he would rot in the jail first; that they
would appeal to General McClellan, to the President, to the Cabinet, to
Congress; but to all such threats the Judge only replied, when they came
to his ears, "He shall have all the opportunities he wants for appeal,
but until the fine is paid, or the judgment set aside by a higher
authority, he must remain in jail." That afternoon and evening every
possible effort was made with General Montgomery and with Judge Freese
to have him released on bail, but without avail. Next day, when the
court opened, a friend of Mr. A. was present with five hundred dollars
in silver, which he paid down, and thereupon received an order from the
Judge for Mr. A.'s release from jail. That money, as all other received
by the court for fines, and not used for feeding the prisoners and
other incidental court expenses, was deposited with the United States
Treasurer, at Washington, to await such further action as might be had
in this or in any other case.
In pursuance of their threats, Mr. A. and his friends at once went
to work to have the fine refunded, and finally, after several months'
effort, succeeded in getting General McClellan to issue an order on
General Montgomery for the refunding of the money. This was done by an
order on the United States Treasurer for the five hundred dollars.
Mr. A. got his money back, but neither he nor any other secessionist of
Alexandria ever again made an assault, with threat to kill, upon a
Union man; nor did any Union man make a like assault or threat upon a
secessionist. And, better still, it had the effect to convince every
secessionist that Judge Freese's court was no respecter of persons; that
while it punished such of the poor as violated the law, it was no less
ready to punish the rich; and that a Union man in Alexandria would be
protected by the court with as much vigilance as one could possibly be
in New York or Philadelphia. The refunding of the fine, however, proved
that General McClellan and his advisers, while pretending great love for
the Union, were largely in sympathy with the secessionists, and would,
so far as they could, undo anything the Provost-Court might do in
punishing rebels and protecting loyal men. General Montgomery and Judge
Freese, being convinced that such would thenceforth be the policy of
General McClellan and his advisers, tried thereafter to so shape the
proceedings of the court that General McClellan should know as little
about it, and have as little to do with it, as possible--believing (as
afterwards proved true) that he would not only thwart its proceedings,
but really abolish the court altogether, whenever he could see that he
could do so without calling down upon himself and political associates
condemnation from the administration.
Thus has been stated the how and why of the organization of the
Provost-Court at Alexandria; some of the details of its workings, so far
as appertained to its municipal or police duties; its happy effect upon
the comparative quiet of the city; and its restraining power on the
belligerent disposition of some of its citizens. What other powers the
court was called upon to exercise, and how it exercised them, will be
reserved for future chapters.
[Illustration: 0179]
CHAPTER XII. JUDGE FREESE'S "BAYONET COURT" OTHER POWERS, AND HOW
EXERCISED.
|HARDLY had the Provost-Court at Alexandria been organized before
reporters for Northern journals began to call upon the General and upon
the Judge for details of its doings, and soon thereafter reports, to a
slight extent, of its operations began to appear in some journals under
the caption of Judge Freese's "Bayonet Court"--the same as placed at
the head of this chapter. One illustrated paper of New York city had
a full-page cut, representing the Judge upon the bench in military
uniform, with his clerk sitting at his right, and his sword laying
upon the desk at his left, with guards standing at attention, each with
musket and fixed bayonet; with a score or more of prisoners in the dock,
all with woebegone faces; with the Provost-Marshal, in full uniform,
standing in front of the Judge, awaiting his orders; with lookers-on
all about; and with all the other paraphernalia of a crowded city
court-room.
It was not for show, by any means, that the Judge rode to the court in
uniform, with loaded revolvers in his holsters; nor was it for show that
he sat upon the bench in uniform, and had guards about him with loaded
muskets and fixed bayonets. Almost from the day that the court commenced
its sittings, the secessionists who remained in Alexandria began to
sneer at the court, and some even went so far as to threaten the Judge
with assassination.
These facts were communicated to the Judge by friends, and through
secret detectives, whom the Provost-Marshal had employed to watch every
movement in the city. It was, therefore, literally true that the Judge
"carried his life in his hand" every moment, and was liable to assault
and attempted assassination every time he rode to the court-room, every
time he took his seat upon the bench, every time he walked the streets.
But a still greater reason for this display of power, and of constant
readiness to meet every emergency, was, that the inhabitants of the
city might be impressed with the power of the court, and the source
from which it derived that power--namely, the military. Without such
impression of power among the citizens, the orders of the court would
not have been respected and obeyed, and twice, if not four times,
the number of guards would have been needed to enforce its orders and
maintain quiet in the city. To relate a few of the cases which came
before the court, under this particular head, will better illustrate the
facts above stated than any amount of theorizing.
One day, the General informed the Judge that, as he was passing along
King Street, two females, dressed as ladies, overtook and passed him,
and, as they passed, they gathered up their skirts and held them from
him, and made other signs of derision and contempt, as though he, the
General, was the vilest of all vile creatures. After they had passed, he
inquired of a citizen and learned that they were the wives of two noted
secessionists, who still remained in the city.
About the same time several officers, and quite a number of the guards,
told the Judge that, while the men of the city treated them with entire
respect, the women and the children of secession citizens insulted them
almost daily--the women by various acts of contempt, and the children
by calling them vile names and throwing stones at them. They had borne,
they said, these things a long time without seeming to notice them, and
without complaint; but the longer and more they forbore, the oftener
and viler became the insults, and they could stand it no longer without
making complaint to the court.
The Judge thereupon announced in open court, that from thenceforth any
woman, or any child, who offered an insult, or threw a stone or other
missile at any officer or soldier upon the public streets, should be
promptly arrested and inquired of as to who was their husband, father,
brother, or other near male relative. That, if the guard making the
arrest was not entirely satisfied as to the truthfulness of the answers
made, the woman or child should be at once brought to the office of
the Provost-Marshal or of the Judge, for such further questioning
and disposition as either might deem proper in the case. That, upon
ascertaining, without doubt, the name and whereabouts of the husband,
father, or brother, the woman or child should be dismissed, and the
husband, father, or brother of the one offending should be immediately
arrested, locked up in jail until next day, and then brought before the
court for trial and sentence. Or, if the woman arrested proved to be
a courtesan, or, if the child had no father or adult brother who could
answer for him or her, then the woman herself, or the child, should be
locked up in jail until the next day, and then brought before the court
for trial and sentence.
Within twenty-four hours after this order was promulgated from the
bench, it was known to every man, woman, and half-grown child of the
city. Of course, there were deep mutterings, some cursing, and not a few
threats, especially against Judge Freese, but the effect was wonderful
and immediate. So wholesome a dread did it produce on the minds of those
who had been offering such insults, daily, and almost every hour of
the day, that there was only one instance in which the order had to be
executed. That was the case of a child, who called vile names and threw
stones at one of the guards, while at his post. The child was promptly
arrested, the name of his father ascertained, the child dismissed, and
the father at once arrested and locked up until next day. When
brought before the court, the father proved one of the most pronounced
secessionists of the city, and, instead of apologizing for the rude
acts of his son, rather approved of what he had done. The Judge tried to
reason with him as to the impropriety of such conduct towards any
one, and especially towards a guard, whose duty and business it was
to protect the lives and property of secessionists no less than of
Unionists. But the longer the Judge reasoned, the more obstinate the
defendant became, until finally the Judge said he would have to make a
slight example in his case, and thereupon sentenced him to ten days
in the county jail--promising that the next person arrested for a like
offence should receive a sentence doubly, if not quadruply, as great.
The news of the arrest and sentence was speedily known in every house of
the city, and from thenceforth no other arrest was necessary for a like
offence. The recognized power of the court had done the work, with but
one arrest and punishment as an example. But for this recognized power,
at least a hundred arrests would have been needed before the evil could
have been abated.
Another instance of the recognition of the power of the court was as
follows: One of the Episcopal ministers of the city was known to be in
the habit of omitting the prayer for the President of the United States,
found in the morning service of the Episcopal prayer-book. The fact
was told to the Provost-judge, and he was asked by some over-zealous
Unionists to send a note to the minister, requiring him to use the
prayer, or be subject to arrest in case he refused. The Judge declined
to do any such thing--telling his informants, that whether the minister
used that prayer or not was purely a matter of conscience, and that it
was no part of his business, or the business of his court, to interfere
in matters of conscience; that he fully agreed with Roger Williams in
the opinion, that the civil or military authorities of a town, city, or
state, "have no more right to command over the souls and consciences
of their subjects than the master of a ship has over those of his
passengers or the sailors under him, although he may justly see to the
labor of the one, and the civil behavior of all in the ship;" that
so long as the Episcopal minister, and those who attended his church,
deported themselves as quiet citizens, attending to their own affairs
and not interfering with the affairs of others, no matter what might be
their sentiments on religious or political affairs, they were entitled
to protection in their persons and property, and should have it.
Those who reported the minister and desired his arrest were not at all
pleased with Judge Freese's reply, and tried hard to get up some feeling
against him among the Union men of the city; but utterly failed in the
attempt. The Judge's Union sentiments were too well known, and had
been too often tested, to allow any one who knew him to doubt him for a
moment. Failing to make any impression against the Judge among the Union
men of the city, these over-zealous busybodies next tried their hands
among the officers of troops which lay about the city. It chanced, just
at that time, that a regiment of Illinois cavalry was encamped on the
outskirts of the city, whose officers were known to be among the most
violent abolitionists of the country; men who believed, or pretended to
believe, that no man who lived in a slave State had any rights which
a Union man was bound to respect--not even the right of conscience.
To these officers these busybodies told the story about the Episcopal
minister omitting the prayer for the President in the morning service of
the prayer-book; and also of their having told the whole thing to Judge
Freese, and of his refusing to issue an order to the minister to use the
prayer or be subject to arrest.
One of their listeners, the Lieutenant-Colonel of the regiment, became
so interested in their story as to volunteer at once to bring the
recusant minister to speedy justice; nor did he care "a snap of his
finger for Judge Freese, or for any other judge." Several other officers
of the regiment volunteered to join him, and the plan agreed upon was
that, on the following Sabbath, they would all attend the Episcopal
service, and when the Rev. Doctor came to the part where the prayer for
the President occurs, in the "morning service," if he failed to read
it, the Lieutenant-Colonel would arise in his seat and demand that it be
read, and if the minister refused, then to arrest him, and take him
to the general headquarters. According to appointment, the
Lieutenant-Colonel and his friends were at the church on the following
Sabbath morning. The congregation was not large, but those
present seemed to be unusually devout. The sexton had given the
Lieutenant-Colonel and his friends seats in about the centre of
the church. The service was opened in the usual form. The "general
confession" had been repeated, all kneeling; the "declaration of
absolution" had been pronounced; the Lord's prayer said in a clear but
subdued voice; the "_Venite Exultemus Domino_" had been sung by the
choir; the portion of the Psalms appointed for the day read; the "_Te
Deum Laudamus_" sung; the lesson from the New Testament, according to
the calendar, read; the Apostles' Creed repeated; and the prayers were
being read, when, all of a sudden, a stentorian voice was heard, saying,
"I demand, sir, that you read the prayer for the President of the United
States." Had a cannon-ball burst through the walls of the church and
fallen upon the floor just at that instant, greater surprise would not
have been created. For a moment the minister stopped in his prayers.
Part of the congregation arose from their knees to their feet and looked
wildly around. Some of the more nervous of the ladies burst into tears.
Confusion worse confounded seemed to pervade the whole congregation. So
soon as the minister recovered self-possession, he commenced to read
the prayer "for the clergy and people," when again a voice, louder than
before, sounded throughout the church, saying, "I demand, sir, that
you read the prayer for the President of the United States." Again the
minister stopped, and again confusion prevailed for some moments. When
quiet again prevailed, the minister, without having made any answer
whatever to the two former requests, commenced to read the prayer for
"all conditions of men," when again the demand to read the prayer for
the President was repeated in a still louder and more threatening
tone. The minister then arose from his knees, and, looking towards the
Lieutenant-Colonel, said, "My conscience will not allow me, at this
time, to read that prayer, and the congregation who statedly worship
in this church have requested that I should not read it while the war
between the North and the South continues."
"Then, sir, you shall read no others while the war continues, and I now
arrest you on the charge of treason," said the Lieutenant-Colonel.
This, of course, still further increased the astonishment and confusion
of the congregation. For a few moments every one seemed utterly
dumbfounded. Meanwhile the Lieutenant-Colonel and his party left their
seats, advanced near the altar, and told the minister he must accompany
them to the general headquarters. The minister asked whether he might
not first go to the vestry-room to lay aside his surplice and gown. The
Lieutenant-Colonel answered, "No; come as you are." He then came out
from the chancel, joined his arresters, and, in full canonicals, without
hat or cap, marched with them through the streets, several squares, to
the general headquarters.
All this had been done without any knowledge whatever on the part of
General Montgomery or Judge Freese, nor could any two have been more
astonished than they were on seeing the minister and hearing the story
of his arrest. The General was annoyed beyond measure, and, for a
time, hardly knew what to say or to do. The Judge was decidedly more
self-possessed, but, of course, said nothing. The General, turning to
the Judge, asked him if he had heard anything of the case before. The
Judge then told the General all that he had known, and all that he had
said about it, as has been heretofore detailed. As he, the Judge, had
done nothing, and had refused to do anything, concerning it, of course
he had made no report of it to the General, since there was nothing to
report. The General, turning to the Lieutenant-Colonel and his
party, said that he entirely agreed in sentiment with his Assistant
Adjutant-General; that there was no reason, not the slightest, for the
arrest of this minister; that every officer engaged in the arrest had
made himself liable to be put in arrest, and tried by court-martial, for
doing that which he had no right to do as a military man; and that the
minister, upon complaint to the Provost-Judge, might have every one
of them arrested and tried by the Provost-Court for assault and for a
disturbance of public services. In conclusion, the General discharged
the minister from arrest and told him that he might go to his own home,
when, turning to the cavalry officers, he said, "The sooner you can get
back to your own quarters, and the closer you remain there hereafter,
the better will it be for you."
As might have been expected, all this created a great amount of
excitement on the streets and about the headquarters. The minister in
his white robes, in charge of several officers in full uniform, and with
the entire congregation following after, was such a sight as had never
been seen in Alexandria before. Everybody--men, women, and children--who
saw it, followed after, until, when the headquarters were reached, there
were several hundred persons present. When the General's decision in the
case became known to the crowd, there was a general approval, as much
among Unionists as among secessionists; but to this there were some
exceptions. The officers and their informers, who had been balked in
their mad purposes, felt chagrined and angry, and left the headquarters
with scowling faces, as though still bent on mischief. The General
and the Judge went to their private quarters, in a building across the
street, nearly opposite to the general headquarters. They supposed the
trouble ended, and that they should hear nothing more of it.
In about an hour thereafter, when the General and the Judge had
just risen from their mess-table, an orderly came rushing into their
quarters, to say that a large crowd of cavalry officers, soldiers, and
citizens were gathered about the Episcopal church, on E Street (the one
in which the minister had been arrested), and that they were threatening
to burn it. The General at once buckled on his sword, and told his
Adjutant to do the same. Both put their revolvers in their belts. The
Judge then told the orderly to hasten to the Provost-Marshal's office,
and tell him to come himself, and bring as many officers and men with
him as possible to the Episcopal church on E Street,'and there await
further orders from the General or himself. The General and the Judge
then went to the church in all possible haste, and found, as had been
told them, several hundred soldiers and citizens gathered about it. In
a little while after, the Provost-Marshal, with a considerable number
of his guard, appeared on the ground. "Burn it! burn it! burn it!" with
intermingling oaths, could be heard every now and then from the mouths
of half-crazed cavalry soldiers. The General and the Judge worked their
way through the crowd, and took their stations directly in front of the
church. The Provost-Marshal and his guard also worked their way through
the crowd to the same place. The General then told the Judge to command
the peace, in as loud a voice as he could. The Judge did so, and then
added, "If any one attempts to set fire to this church, he will be shot
down at once--and all persons, whether soldiers or citizens, who are
found within five hundred yards of this church building after thirty
minutes shall have expired, will be arrested by the provost-guard, put
in jail until to-morrow, and then brought before the Provost-Court
for disturbing the peace and violating the sanctity of the Sabbath."
Scarcely had the Judge finished his proclamation, before the crowd
commenced to move off, and before the thirty minutes had expired not a
soldier or citizen could be seen on the street, save the General and his
party. Guards were then stationed at every approach to the church,
with orders that they should be regularly relieved and the stations
maintained until otherwise ordered.
There was no other attempt to set fire to that church, nor to any other
in Alexandria, after that, so long as "Judge Freese's bayonet court"
continued to have an existence--nor could there have been a more signal
instance to exemplify the acknowledged power of the court than the one
just related. The cavalry regiment spoken of numbered over one thousand
officers and men, nearly every one of whom held sentiments much the
same, if not precisely the same, as the Lieutenant-Colonel. Within a
circle of a few miles were dozens of other regiments, nearly all of whom
held similar sentiments. Had that one church been burned on that day,
probably every other church and two-thirds of all the buildings in the
city would have been burned during the following thirty days. To prevent
that church from being burned, there were present not more than fifty
officers and men, as against at least one thousand of an opposite
sentiment. In physical power the one was as nothing to the other; but,
after the Judge had finished his announcement, there was not one of the
thousand who stopped for a moment to question the power of which the
Judge was the representative. Had a like power existed, and had a like
power been exercised in other cities of the South occupied by Union
troops, how many millions upon millions of dollars' worth of property
might have been saved from the flames!
We will give only one other instance under this head, though, if time
and space permitted, it would be easy to give scores.
Mr. D. lived upon one of the most fashionable streets of Alexandria, and
his family had long been regarded as among the F. F. V.'s of the State.
He owned lands in other parts of Virginia on which he had a large number
of slaves, and always kept a few at his Alexandria residence to wait
upon his family. For some cause Mr. D. did not leave Alexandria when
other secessionists left, though he took the precaution to send all his
slaves away except two, both females--mother and daughter--the one about
forty, the other about twenty years of age.
Mr. H. lived next door to Mr. D., and though a Northern man by birth,
had long been a resident and merchant of Alexandria. He had always been
conscientiously opposed to owning slaves, though he had hired them of
others as family servants ever since his residence in the city. The
families of Messrs. D. and H. had long been on the most friendly terms,
and continued so, notwithstanding the war, up to the very day on which
the incident occurred which we are now about to relate.
For some weeks previous to this day, Mrs. H. had occasionally heard
terrible, unearthly screams next door, and had wondered again and again
what on earth it could mean. She had mentioned the fact to her husband,
and he had suggested that it was probably the cry of servants being
punished; but being upon the most friendly terms, as before stated, with
their neighbors, they could not, and did not, say a word about it to
others. Thus matters went on until the day in question. Again Mrs. H.
heard the same fearful, heart-rending cries, and they continued on and
on until her very heart grew sick and faint. Just then she heard some
one calling her name loudly from the back yard of the next building,
and, stepping to the window, saw the elder of Mrs. D.'s two servants
wringing her hands and crying out:
"Oh, come, Mrs. H., come quickly! come quickly! They are killing my
child! they are killing my child!"
Tears were pouring in a stream from the poor mothers eyes, and it seemed
as though her very heart would break from anguish. Mrs. H. could stand
it no longer, and stepping out on her own back porch, which adjoined
that of Mrs. D.'s, called out for Mrs. D., and when she appeared, asked
her what was the cause of such awful screaming.
"Oh, nothing, nothing," answered Mrs. D. "It's only Jane, whom Mr. D. is
punishing for looking out of the windows at the soldiers as they pass.
I have told her again and again that she should not do it, and yet she
will persist in it."
"But," said Mrs. H., "was that all? Surely a young girl like her could
hardly do otherwise than look out of the windows when she heard music
and saw soldiers passing? Did she do nothing else, Mrs. D.?"
"No, nothing else," answered Mrs. D.; "but Mr. D. says if she and her
mother are allowed to look out of the windows at the soldiers, they will
soon be wanting to run away, and therefore we must not allow them to
look out."
"They don't neglect their work, do they, Mrs. D.?" asked Mrs. H.
"Oh, no," answered Mrs. D. "They are both most excellent servants, and
never neglect their work; but hav-ing these Yankee soldiers in the city
will, we fear, make them want to run away, and it is only to prevent
them from getting any such foolish notion in their heads that we have
forbid them to look out at the windows."
"Have you had to punish them often for disobeying the order?" asked Mrs.
H.
"Oh, no, not often," answered Mrs. D. "This is only the fifth time, I
think, that Mr. D. has had to whip Jane since the Yankee soldiers came
into the city, and her mother has only needed three punishments for
the same offence. Take them all in all, there are, I think, few better
servants in Alexandria than Jane and Mary."
This ended the conversation between the two ladies at that time, and
Mrs. H. returned to her own parlors a sadder, if not a wiser, woman.
Within a half hour Mrs. H. heard still louder and more piercing cries,
and the voice this time was plainly that of Jane's mother. Stepping to
and opening one of her back parlor-windows, she could distinctly hear
the conversation between Mr. D. and Mary, which seemed to come from
the garret of the house, the back dormer-windows of which chanced to be
open.
"Oh, don't kill me, Mr. D., don't kill me! I only called Mrs. H. because
I thought you was killing my child--she screamed so terribly! Oh, please
don't whip me any more this time, please! My back is still sore from the
last whipping you gave me, and every stroke you now give me seems to cut
into the flesh like a knife. Oh, please don't whip me any more! please
don't! please! please!"
These words from Mary's lips Mrs. H. distinguished as plainly as though
they had been spoken at her side, for both Jane and her mother spoke
most excellent English, having always been brought up as house servants,
and never having imbibed the habit of using the negro dialect. Indeed,
in their habits and manners they were quite as ladylike as their
mistress, nor could it hardly be otherwise, since both from childhood
had been made to wait upon ladies of education and refinement, and could
scarcely have failed to imbibe their language and manners. Pathetic as
Mary's pleadings were, however, they failed to reach Mr. D.'s heart, for
in a moment after Mrs. H. heard the lash again applied, and this time
Mary screamed still louder than before. Again and again she could hear
the lash descend upon poor Mary's back, and again and again came
from her lips the most horrid screechings and the most piteous
moans. Finally, Mrs. H. could listen no longer, but, returning to her
sitting-room, threw herself upon a lounge and wept as if her very heart
would break. Then and there she made a most solemn vow to God that she
would give herself no rest until she had rescued Jane and her mother
from their heartless, cruel master, nor would she ever try again to live
on terms of friendship, much less of intimacy, with Mr. and Mrs. D.
When Mr. H. came home to tea, he observed that his wife had been
weeping, and inquired the cause. She then told him all that she had seen
and heard during the afternoon, and begged of him, for her sake, for
Mary and Jane's sake, for God's sake, to go, immediately after tea,
to Judge Freese's quarters and tell him all that had occurred. She was
sure, she said, from what she had heard of his court, that he would not
permit such heartless barbarities to continue in Alexandria. The husband
was deeply impressed with his wife's story, and still more so by the
pathetic appeal which she had made to him in behalf of the two servants,
and promised to do as she requested, notwithstanding his very great
reluctance to break friendship with Mr. and Mrs. D.
Accordingly, after tea, instead of going back to his store he went
direct to Judge Freese's quarters and told him the whole story, just as
his wife had told it to him. The Judge listened attentively, and, when
Mr. H. had finished, said, in a very quiet but in a very determined way,
that the case should have his careful and prompt attention. The Judge
then told Mr. H. to please bring his wife around to headquarters next
morning, that she might make a formal affidavit to what she had seen
and heard, after receiving which he would direct the Provost-Mar-shal
to arrest Mr. H., and bring him and the two servants before the court at
its next sitting. Next morning early Mr. and Mrs. H. went to the general
headquarters. The Judge wrote down, as Mrs. H. detailed it, the story as
heretofore told, when Mrs. H. added her signature and made affidavit as
to its truthfulness. The Judge then sent for the Provost-Marshal, and
ordered him to arrest Mr. D. and bring him and the two servants, Mary
and Jane, before the court at ten o'clock.
The arrest of so prominent a citizen as Mr. D. spread through the city
like wildfire, and, when the court assembled, the court-room was crowded
in every part. After all the other prisoners present had been discharged
or sentenced, the case of Mr. H. was called. He arose, when his name was
called, and said he was there in obedience to the orders of the court,
but for what cause he knew not, except--if he had understood the marshal
aright--for punishing his own slaves, which, according to the laws of
Virginia, he certainly had the right to do. The Judge only replied that
he (Mr. D.) would probably understand his rights better after the case
had been tried, and then directed that the trial proceed. Mr. D. asked
if he could be represented by an attorney.
"Certainly," replied the Judge, "if the attorney will first take the
oath of allegiance to the United States Government."
This the attorney present declined to do, and Mr. D. was obliged to
act as his own attorney. The first witness called was Mary, the
slave-mother. She testified, in response to questions by the court, that
she had been born the slave of Mrs. D.'s father, and had lived in his
family until Mrs. D. was married, when she had been given to Mrs. D. as
her maid or body-servant; that her daughter Jane, then about five years
of age, had been given to Mrs. D. at the same time; that she, Mary,
had never been married, but when less than twenty years of age had
repeatedly been ordered to the bedchamber of Mrs. D.'s father; that
Jane was none other than the daughter of Mrs. D.'s own father, and
consequently half-sister to Mrs. D. herself; that she had frequently
asked her former master and her present mistress for the privilege to
learn to read and write, and, when she had learned herself, that she
might teach her daughter Jane, but they had always refused, and given as
a reason that the laws of Virginia made it a criminal offence to teach
a slave to read or write; that both she and her daughter had been
generally well treated by Mr. and Mrs. D. until the Union troops came to
Alexandria; that since that time both seemed to have entirely changed in
their disposition towards her and her daughter; that nothing they
could do seemed to please them; that both she and her daughter had been
forbidden to go upon the street at any time or upon any occasion, and
that finally they had been forbidden to look out of the windows; that
they had tried to obey even this order, but, on hearing music and the
tramp of passing soldiers, they had sometimes been drawn to the windows
unthinkingly; for this one offence and for no other--for Mrs. D. always
reported them to her husband, and seemed to take pleasure in doing so
whenever she chanced to catch them at a window--Mr. D. had whipped both
her and her daughter several times most terribly; that he always took
them to the garret, tied a cord around each wrist, threw the cord over a
beam and drew them up until their toes just touched the floor, stripped
them to the waist, and then with a rawhide gave them as many lashes as
he thought they could stand without fainting; that her own back, and
her daughter's as well, were so raw and sore that they could hardly wear
their dresses; that Mrs. D. always encouraged these whippings, and that
neither she nor her husband ever manifested the least sympathy with
their subsequent sufferings; that neither she nor her daughter had ever
made an attempt to escape from bondage, nor had either of them ever
threatened their master or mistress so to do, notwithstanding all they
had suffered. She wept frequently while giving in her testimony, and at
times almost the entire audience seemed melted to tears. The Judge was
observed to wipe his eyes frequently, and several times his voice was so
choked with emotion that he had to hesitate some moments before he could
put the next question. The whole of Mary's evidence had to be drawn
from her lips, item by item. She seemed all the while afraid to answer
questions, and said nothing of her own accord.
Jane was next called. Her evidence entirely accorded with her mother's,
so far as her knowledge extended. Mrs. D., she said, had never found
any fault about her work--only about her looking out of the windows, and
this she had not meant to do, but did it every time without thinking.
When she heard the music of a band, or the tramp of soldiers, some
_irresistible force_ always drew her to the nearest window to look out.
She could not help it, though her life depended upon it. Both she and
her mother were passionately fond of music, and when their mistress
played on the piano in the parlor, they generally managed to leave their
work long enough to stand and listen, by a door ajar, until the music
ended. She did not understand why she and her mother should be so
infatuated--crazy as she called it--about music. She only knew that it
was so, and that neither of them could help it.
Mrs. H. was the next witness. She detailed, carefully and succinctly,
what she had heard and seen the afternoon before. Told of her long and
agreeable acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. D., and how much she regretted
the rupture of those friendly relations. Said she had frequently heard
Mrs. D. speak in the highest terms of her two servants, Mary and Jane;
that several times before that afternoon she had heard strange, unusual
noises next door, but never until then had she heard them plain enough
to know what they meant. On leaving the witness-stand and resuming her
seat, she burst into a flood of tears, and it was several minutes before
she could regain her self-possession.
The Judge then asked Mr. D. to call any witnesses he had present, or to
present himself or his wife as a witness, if he thought proper.
Mr. D. replied that he had no witnesses in the case, neither did
he propose to offer himself nor his wife as a witness; that he
substantially admitted all that had been said by the witnesses for the
prosecution, except as to the severity of the punishment inflicted. In
that, he thought, the witnesses had all exaggerated. In the excitement
attendant upon the punishment of a servant, however, one might strike
harder blows, and more of them, than he intended or knew of at the
moment; but he certainly never had intended to punish either Mary or
Jane to the extent they had described. His defence, he said, was that he
had done nothing more than the laws of Virginia authorized. That, within
maiming and death, the law gave to a master the authority to punish a
slave to any extent he pleased. That ever since Federal troops had
been in the city he had suspected Mary and Jane to be planning means of
escape, and that it was to make them realize his right to them as their
owner and master, and to keep them in wholesome dread of his authority,
that he had forbidden them to go upon the streets, to look out at the
windows, and had occasionally punished them in, as he thought, a very
mild way. Besides, he thought a military court had no right whatever
to interfere with the relations between master and slave, and hoped the
court would think proper to dismiss the case. He spoke in a very
pompous manner, and took his seat as one who had entirely demolished his
adversaries.
For a few moments there was an almost death-like silence in the
court-room. No one spoke. You could almost have heard a pin drop on the
floor. The Judge then ordered Mr. D. to stand up to receive the sentence
of the court. Mr. D. stood up. The Judge then proceeded to say, "Sir:
You are charged with assault and battery upon these two defenceless
females, Mary and Jane. The evidence is clear that you committed such
assault, not once only but several times. Indeed, you yourself admit it.
Your defence is that they are your slaves, and that, according to the
slave code of Virginia, you had the right to punish them to any extent
you pleased within that of maiming or the taking of life. I am not
familiar with the slave code of Virginia, and cannot say of a certainty
that you represent it wrongfully, but I can say that if such authority
exists upon any statute-book of any State, it is a disgrace to
civilization, and the sooner it be expunged the better. But, sir, it
matters not to this court what the laws of Virginia may be upon this or
upon any other subject. This is a United States military court--a court
of necessity, and 'necessity knows no law' is an old maxim--a court
established because all other means of justice had fled from this
city--a court governed by the principles of equity, rather than of
law--a court established to protect the lives, the natural rights, and
the property of every inhabitant of Alexandria, without regard to their
political opinions, their religious predilections, their sex, their
condition in life, or their color--a court which does not, and cannot,
recognize slavery in any shape or form--a court which now and ever will
protect the lives, the personal rights, and the property of those called
slaves as readily as of those called masters. While this court possesses
no power to dissolve the relation which the laws of a State have made
possible between master and slave--that power belonging alone to the
President of the United States in his capacity as commander-in-chief
of the army and navy--yet it does possess the power, and it is its
imperative duty, to protect the weak against the strong, the slave
against undue severity from his or her master or mistress, and
particularly from inflicting punishment without adequate cause. The
evidence in this case, sir, shows that you had no cause, no reasonable
cause, for inflicting any punishment whatever on either of these
females; that they were both uniformly good servants, that your wife
invariably spoke of them as such until the Union troops came into this
city, and that then, and not till then, you conceived the idea that they
would escape from your service if they could, and to counteract such a
thought in their minds you gave them commands contrary to all the laws
of nature; and because they did not, for the reason that they could not,
obey these unnatural commands, you inflicted upon them both a degree
of punishment such as a man would be indictable for if inflicted upon
a horse. This you try to excuse by saying that, while in a passion, you
may have struck them harder and oftener than you intended; the answer
to which is that a man subject to such violent passions, and devoid of
mercy, as you, sir, appear to be, is utterly unfit to have in his power
those who are unable to defend themselves against brute violence. Those
whom you abuse, therefore, must be taken from your control; must be
placed in the hands of those who will treat them kindly, treat them as
human beings; and though this temporary taking away may not destroy your
legal right to their services at some future time, it will, at least,
protect them from your violence for the present, and it may be that,
before this sentence shall have expired, a merciful Providence may
induce the President to issue a proclamation of universal freedom to all
the slaves of this land. Meanwhile, this court will use all the power
it possesses to protect them from undue violence from those who call
themselves their owners; and the court desires to give fair warning now,
so that all may be without excuse hereafter, that from henceforth this
court will regard an assault made upon a so-called slave in precisely
the same light as if made upon a free white person. For every stroke
laid, upon a slave hereafter, without justifiable cause, the master
will receive a like number, or other punishment equal thereto, by the
sentence of this court; and the only reason why you, sir, are excused
from corporal punishment now, is, that you acted ignorantly--acted, as
you supposed, under the laws of Virginia, and without knowing the law
or orders of this court upon this subject. Hereafter no one within the
jurisdiction of this court can have any such excuse.
"The sentence of the court is, that you, Mr. D., immediately after the
adjournment of this court, go with the Provost-Marshal to his office,
and there, over your own hand and seal, with the Provost-Marshal as
a witness, execute a permit to Mary and to Jane, each, to leave your
employ at once, and take with them whatever of clothing or other
articles heretofore recognized as theirs--to engage their services as
domestics to whomsoever else they please, to receive in their own right
and to use as they please, whatever wages may be agreed upon between
them and their future employers--to go and come when and wheresoever
they please, and in no respect whatsoever to be subject to your
direction or control. And the further judgment of the court is, that
this sentence shall remain in full force and virtue so long as the war
between the North and the South continues.
"To you, Mr. Provost-Marshal, the court begs to say that you will not
permit Mr. D. to leave your custody until he has fully executed this
order; and should he refuse, or even hesitate, you will at once lock him
up in the county jail, and report to this court for further orders.
"To you, Mr. and Mrs. H., the court begs to return not only its thanks,
but the thanks of every peace-loving, mercy-loving, freedom-loving
citizen of this community, for having brought this case before the
court, and thereby put a check, if not an entire stop, to an evil
which otherwise might have grown to huge proportions; and, as a further
manifestation of your good hearts, the court requests that you will take
Mary and her daughter in your own employ, until such time as a better
arrangement can be effected, if that be ever possible.
"The court stands adjourned until to-morrow at ten o'clock."
While the Judge was delivering this sentence, perfect silence prevailed;
but the moment he closed, a buzz of approval ran throughout the
court-room, amounting almost to cheers. Mr. D. and his attorney, and
the few friends immediately about him, looked like so many dark
thunder-clouds in a clear sky; but the contrast only made the sky to
appear the brighter. The crowd dispersed. The sentinels present, at
a shoulder-arms, with fixed bayonets, at once formed a front and rear
guard to the Provost-Marshal and his prisoner, and, when on the street,
a hollow-square, until they reached the Provost Marshal's office. A
permit, such as the court had directed, was then prepared, to which Mr.
D. put his hand and seal, with the Provost-Marshal as a witness. The
Provost-Marshal then went with Mary and her daughter (Mr. D. still
accompanying and not yet discharged) to Mr. D.'s house, where the two
servants were permitted to gather together their clothing and whatever
else they claimed as theirs. Mrs. D. was at first disposed to refuse the
servants their clothing, or anything else, and to talk loudly against
the injustice of the court, etc.; but a word of caution from the
Provost-Marshal, and a beseeching look from her husband, effectually
closed her lips. When Mary and Jane had got all together, in such
bundle as they could easily carry, the Marshal accompanied them to the
residence of Mrs. H. and there left them.
Mrs. H. met them in the entry-way, and the moment they saw her, both
servants fell on their knees and begged to kiss her hand, or even the
hem of her garment. They wept and laughed alternately, and it was some
time before she could get them to arise from their knees and go to the
room which had been prepared for them. The transition from slavery
to virtual freedom, from constant dread to free volition, to what had
seemed to them a hell to what now seemed to them a heaven, had been so
sudden, that they could scarcely realize it as possible; and, when they
reached the room assigned them, both again fell on their knees, and for
a full hour returned thanks to God for his mercy and loving-kindness,
and implored blessings on those who had shown them such unexpected
kindness. Both Mary and her daughter were members of the Methodist
Church--the former had been so for many years--and both had always led,
so far as was known, consistent Christian lives.
The result of the trial was soon in the mouths of everybody, some
condemning, but a large majority approving. The effect was, that not a
single similar case was brought before the court after that. The warning
of the court was so plain and pointed that all who owned slaves in
Alexandria felt that they knew, as well before as after, what punishment
would follow ill-treatment, and none were ill-treated.
Had like courts followed the army, or been established in every city
of the South on the day they fell into the hands of Union troops, what
immense suffering might have been saved; how many rescued from premature
graves, caused by inhuman treatment; and how many thousands could have
been given the blessed boon of freedom, who were run into Texas, thence
to Cuba and Brazil, and thence consigned to a fate worse than death
itself!
[Illustration: 0205]
CHAPTER XII. LOYALTY VERSUS DISLOYALTY. PREJUDICE AND SELF-INTEREST
PROMPTING THE ACTORS.
|THE definition given by lexicographers to the word loyalty, namely,
"faithful to the lawful government," is so plain that no one can fail
to comprehend it; and yet such were the complications in the late war
between the United States and the Confederate States, that to no word
could a greater variety of significations have been given. The Northern
man claimed that to be loyal one must be faithful to the United States
government, and all who were not so were rebels. The Southern man
claimed that, after the organization of the Confederate States
government, no man south of "Mason and Dixon's line" could be regarded
as loyal who was not in favor of, and faithful to, that government. The
extreme State-rights man claimed that to be loyal one must be faithful
to the government of the State in which he resided, or of which he was
a native. Each claimed theirs, and theirs only, to be the "lawful"
government, and insisted that to be loyal one must be faithful to it,
and to it alone, and that any lack of fidelity thereto was disloyalty,
and could be nothing.
To illustrate by a figure once before used in this volume--that of a
divorce suit between man and wife--it is easy enough to see how the
children, taking the side of the father, might charge those who took the
side of the mother with disloyalty to the family, and how those taking
the side of the mother might retort by saying that else, the mother was
quite as much a part of the family as the father, and that those who
opposed her were more disloyal to the family than themselves. Thus
criminations and recriminations might pass between the children of a
divided household--divided in sentiment, if not yet by law--and if a
third party were called in as arbitrator, it would be no easy matter for
him to decide which of the two was right and which wrong. Viewing the
subject from this stand-point, now that the prejudices and excitements
of the war are over, it is not difficult to understand how President
Davis, General Lee, General Beauregard, General Polk, and their
adherents, regarded themselves quite as loyal as President Lincoln,
General Grant, General Sherman, General Sheridan, and their followers.
Each regarded theirs as the "lawful government," and that only by
adhering to it, by being faithful to it, could one justly claim to be
loyal.
But there was a third class in the war, who, while claiming to be
faithful to one government, were, at heart, in favor of the other; who
only wore the "garb of heaven" that they might the better "serve the
devil;" who were ever ready to make promises to both sides, but who
were true to neither; men who, like Marlborough, while pretending to be
faithful to William III., was really plotting to restore James II.
So well laid were Marlborough's plans, that Macaulay says, "Had
Marlborough, therefore, after securing the cooperation of some
distinguished officers, presented himself at the critical moment to
those regiments which he had led to victory in Flanders and in Ireland,
had he called on them to rally around him, to protect the Parliament,
and to drive out the aliens (William's friends), there is strong reason
to think that the call would have been obeyed."
Writing of the disloyalty and treachery of many who surrounded the
throne of William and Mary at that time (1691), Macaulay says: "Wicked
and base as their conduct was, there was nothing in it surprising. They
did after their kind. The times were troubled. A thick cloud was upon
the future. The most sagacious and experienced politician could not
see with any clearness three months before him. To a man of virtue and
honor, indeed, this mattered little. His uncertainty as to what the
morrow would bring forth, might make him anxious, but could not make
him perfidious. Though left in utter darkness as to what concerned his
interests, he had the sure guidance of his principles. But, unhappily,
men of virtue and honor were not numerous among the courtiers of that
age. Whitehall had been, during thirty years, a seminary of every
public and private vice, and swarmed with low-minded, double-dealing,
self-seeking politicians. The politicians now acted as it was natural
that men profoundly immoral should act at a crisis of which none could
predict the issue. Some of them might have a slight predilection for
William; others a slight predilection for James; but it was not by any
such predilection that the conduct of any of the breed was guided. If
it had seemed certain that William would stand, they would all have been
for William. If it had seemed certain that James would be restored, they
would all have been for James. But what was to be done when the chances
appeared to be almost exactly balanced? There were honest men of one
party who would have answered, 'To stand by the true king and the true
church, and, if necessary, die for them like Laud.' There were honest
men of the other party who would have answered, 'To stand by the
liberties of England and the Protestant religion, and, if necessary, die
for them like Sidney.' But such consistency was unintelligible to many
of the noble and the powerful. Their object was to be safe in every
event. They therefore openly took the oath of allegiance to one king,
and secretly plighted their word to the other. They were indefatigable
in obtaining commissions, patents of peerage, pensions, grants of crown
land, under the great seal of William, and they had in their secret
drawers promises of pardon in the handwriting of James."
Now let the reader turn back and read this extract and the one preceding
it about Marlborough, both from Macaulay's History of England, over
again, carefully and considerately--putting the name of Abraham Lincoln
in the place of William, wherever it occurs; and the name of Jefferson
Davis in place of James, wherever it occurs, and whatever name he
pleases in place of Marlborough's, and he will, we think, be entirely
competent to draw his own similitudes, and to understand the causes
of many things heretofore related in this volume, and of some which we
purpose to relate in this chapter.
Another class of cases occasionally brought before the Provost-Court, at
Alexandria, related to loyalty. To relate the details of one or two of
these cases will give to the reader a general conception of the whole.
Mr. E.'s usual residence was in Sussex County, New Jersey, but in some
way, and at some time, he became the owner of a farm not many miles from
Alexandria, Virginia. In throwing up earth-works at Munson's Hill and
at other points, with a view to protect Washington and Alexandria, it so
happened that Mr. E.'s farm was left about one mile outside of the Union
lines. And it so happened, too, that the Confederates, in establishing
their picket-line and temporary works of defence, made them about one
mile the other side of Mr. E.'s farm. This left him literally "between
two fires," for the mounted cannon on either side could throw a ball
into his house at any moment, and squads of cavalry from both sides
occasionally visited his house. Had he continued to look after his
farming operations, and those only, he would probably not have been
seriously disturbed by either side; but the love of the almighty dollar
so far prevailed over his better judgment and his loyalty, that he
concluded to try merchandising, in a surreptitious way, at his own
farm-house. For years previous he had been in the habit of purchasing
the supplies for his farm in Alexandria, which, with the fact that
he was a Northern man and was presumed to be, as he professed to be,
entirely loyal to the United States government, made it no trouble for
him to procure passes in and out of the Union lines, whenever he had
occasion to use them. After awhile it was observed that he passed in
and out of the lines much oftener than he had been in the habit of
doing when the line was first established, and that he usually drove a
two-horse wagon, with a cloth cover over it, and apparently well filled
within. It was observed, too, by officers, with their field-glasses,
from the works at Munson's Hill, that Confederate cavalry visited Mr.
E.'s house much oftener than they had been in the habit of doing during
the first months of the war, and how many, both of cavalry and infantry,
visited his place at night, of course they had no means of knowing. When
Union cavalry or infantry visited his house, they never saw anything
more than was usual about farm-houses, and he always welcomed them with
the utmost cordiality. He regretted, he said, that Confederate soldiers
visited his house so often. They seemed, he said, to suspicion that he
was too intensely Union, but he quieted them by saying that while, of
course, he was a Union man, and could be nothing else, yet he meant to
be entirely neutral so long as the war continued, and, while he could do
nothing for them, he would do nothing against them. The peculiarity of
his situation, between the two lines, made this answer seem entirely
reasonable to the Unionists who visited him, or who questioned him at
any time, and passes continued to be issued to him whenever he applied
for them.
Thus matters went on for weeks and months, until one day, when he was
about passing a sentinel's post, the sentinel had the curiosity, not
only to inquire, but to make a careful examination, of what he had in
his wagon. He found barrels of sugar, bags of coffee, chests of tea,
sacks of salt, barrels of whiskey, and such other articles as are
usually kept and sold at country stores. The sentinel asked Mr. E. if
he did not keep a store? Oh, no, he said, he bought these things all for
his own use and for the use of his servants on the farm, of whom he had
a large number. He never sold an ounce of anything to anybody, and kept
his supplies so concealed that when rebels came to his house, as they
did sometimes, they never could see anything. On no consideration would
he sell or give anything to the rebels, and the Union soldiers, of
course, never had occasion to buy anything outside of their lines.
His manner, as well as his words, still further excited the suspicion of
the sentinel, and so soon as he was relieved he went to his captain and
told him all that had occurred. The captain reported the facts to his
colonel, and received orders from him to instruct the sentinel on that
post that when Mr. E. next attempted to pass out of the lines with
a load of groceries to halt him, and bring him and his wagon to the
regimental headquarters. Only a few days elapsed, when Mr. E. again
attempted to pass out with a heavier load than at any time previous.
When he showed his pass, as usual, the sentinel replied that his orders
were to halt him until he could call the corporal of the guard. Mr. E.
protested against the unnecessary detention, but, as the sentinel would
not yield, he could do nothing else than wait until the corporal came.
The corporal informed him that he must turn his team about and accompany
him to the regimental headquarters. Mr. E. was now more alarmed than
ever, and tried first to cajole and then to bribe the corporal and the
sentinel to let him pass, but they would not listen to his overtures.
Finding no other way, he turned his team about and accompanied the
corporal to the regimental headquarters. The colonel examined Mr. E.'s
load and found that it consisted principally of groceries. In reply to
the question, What he did with them? he answered the colonel, as he
had before answered the sentinel, that he used them for himself and the
servants on his farm; that he did not sell an ounce to the rebels;
would not, under any circumstances, etc., etc. The colonel listened
respectfully to all that Mr. E. said, but did not believe a word of
it. When he had finished, the colonel replied, very calmly but very
determinately, that as Mr. E. was a private citizen, and could not,
therefore, be tried by a court-martial, he must accompany him next
morning to Alexandria, that all the facts of the case might be laid
before the Provost-Judge of that city for such action as he might think
proper. Meanwhile, his team and his goods would be well taken care of,
and he should regard himself as in arrest. Mr. E. protested, but soon
became satisfied that he was in the hands of one who could not be
cajoled or trifled with, and that submission was his only course.
Next morning the colonel, accompanied by Mr. E., the corporal, and the
two sentinels--the one who had examined Mr. E.'s load the first time and
the one who had detained him last--went to Alexandria, reaching there
about nine o'clock. They went direct to the general, headquarters,
and the colonel at once communicated all the facts to Judge Freese. He
replied that the provost-court met at ten o'clock, and that so soon as
all other cases had been adjudicated this case should be heard, and that
the colonel, his prisoner, and his witnesses should be in attendance.
Promptly at ten o'clock the court opened. A dozen or more cases were
heard and adjudicated, after which the case of Mr. E. was called.
The first witness--the first sentinel--gave in his testimony just as
detailed heretofore. The second sentinel and the corporal did the same.
The colonel then related all that he knew about the case, and in the
course of his testimony, said that he had known of Mr. E. ever since
encamped where he then was; that he had frequently heard other officers
speak of him; that he, with others, had often watched Mr. E.'s house
through their field-glasses, and frequently seen rebel officers and
privates coming and going; that for a week previous Mr. E. had gone
backwards and forwards through the lines every day or two, usually in a
two-horse covered wagon, and dressed as a hard-working farmer; that he
always had with him a permit from the general commanding to pass in and
out, and that his sentinels had never thought to question his right so
to do until after the one sentinel took the liberty of looking in Mr.
E.'s wagon, and found it filled with boxes and barrels; that since
then he had talked the matter over with the general and several other
officers, and all agreed in the opinion that Mr. E. was selling these
supplies to the enemy; that, thereupon, he had directed the sentinel
upon that post to be instructed to arrest him and bring him to his
headquarters should he again attempt to pass with a loaded wagon; that
his wagon, when so arrested, was loaded, as heavily as two horses could
well draw, with groceries, liquors, etc., and that the team, wagon,
groceries, and liquors were now in his camp subject to any order the
court might make.
Mr. E. was then called upon by the court to present any witnesses he
might have, or to offer himself as a witness, or to say anything he
could in his own defence, or all together, if he chose.
Mr. E. replied that he had no witnesses to offer, but, if the court
please, would like to make a statement. He then repeated about the
same story he had told the sentinel and the colonel, and added, that in
Sussex County, New Jersey, where he was well known, nobody doubted his
loyalty; that his father had, at one time, been a member of Congress
from that State, and that he himself would probably have raised a
company or a regiment of volunteers when the war commenced had he not
owned this plantation in Virginia and had it to look after. He insisted
upon his loyalty, and strongly urged his immediate release from arrest.
The court replied that cases of this kind were exceedingly perplexing at
all times, and he, the Judge, would only be too glad if there were some
other tribunal to which they could be referred; but as there was not, he
could not do less than hear them, and after hearing, if he found
cause for action, he could not do less than act. "In this case it was
perfectly plain to the court that, notwithstanding Mr. E.'s denial, he
had been selling groceries, liquors, etc., to officers and privates of
General Lee's army, and might, therefore, fairly be presumed to have
given 'aid and comfort to the enemy.' But the court did not believe
that it had been done with any such intent. On the contrary, the court
believed that it was the love of money--which is said to be the 'root of
all evil'--that had induced the defendant to do just what he had done.
Mr. E. is one of the thousands and tens of thousands throughout the
North who, while making loud professions of loyalty, are all the while
looking out for the 'main chance;' whose loyalty goes no deeper than
their pockets; whose self-interests so far overbalance any sentiment
of patriotism or loyalty, that they would be Lincoln men, or Davis men,
just as they thought the one or the other was likely to win; who, while
claiming the protection of one government and getting from it all they
could, were all the while profuse in promises to the other, and ready
to do for it whatever they could, whereby to put dollars in their
own pockets or honors upon their own heads or shoulders. Nor is this
sentiment confined to farmers and merchants, but the court regrets to
have to believe it is to be found in the army, in the navy, in the very
presence-chamber of the chief executive, and what is true of the North,
the court has no doubt is equally true of the South, though not probably
to so great an extent.
"In this case the defendant, doubtless, excused himself somewhat on the
ground that he was doing it upon his own property, and that he was doing
it as a matter of self-preservation, which, as has been well said, is
the 'first law of nature.' But while such pleas would be entirely valid
in time of peace, they are not valid in time of war. At such a time, all
private interests have to yield to the public good, and what may seem
like the taking away of natural rights from the one, may be justice,
only justice, to the many. The defendant, too, though a man of general
intelligence, was probably not aware that he was violating any law,
State or national, in doing what he did.
"Viewing the case from all these stand-points, the court has decided
to suspend sentence upon this defendant until he shall be again found
violating, or not fulfilling, the orders of the court. Meanwhile, the
court orders that the goods now in Mr. E's wagon shall be brought back
to Alexandria and returned to the parties from whom they were purchased;
that, immediately after, whatever other goods may be found upon Mr. E.'s
premises (other than enough to support the servants on the place for one
month, if any servants at all be found there) shall be brought to this
city and returned in like manner; that, after remaining one week longer
on his farm, to 'put his house in order,' Mr. E. shall return to his
home in Sussex County, New Jersey, and remain there until the war
closes; that, if at any time after one week Mr. E. be found upon his
farm, or in Alexandria, he be at once rearrested and brought before this
court for sentence upon the charges now pending; and, if so brought, the
defendant may rest assured that he will not have opportunity to give the
enemy any aid and comfort after that.
"With you, Colonel W., the court leaves the execution of this order in
all its details, and, while thanking you for what you have already done,
will thank you still more when you have rendered this additional service
for the government."
The court then adjourned, and, of the large number present, there was
probably not one, save the extremists on either side, who might be
counted on one's fingers who did not approve of the action of the court
in the case. It need only be added that the orders of the court were
carried out to the letter; that Mr. E. returned to his home in New
Jersey and remained there until the war ended.
Another case, of altogether a different character, and yet involving the
same principle--namely, that of disloyalty to the government by aiding
the enemy in a surreptitious way--occurred not long after and was as
follows:
The "Hutchinson Family," who had been giving a series of concerts in
Washington, was invited by some New England regiments, encamped not
far from Alexandria, to come to their encampments and give a series of
concerts. The "Family" had accepted the invitation and given several
concerts in pursuance thereof. Of course, their programme was made up
largely of war lyrics--at that time by far the most popular songs with
a Northern audience, and especially with soldiers--among which was that
wonderful, soul-stirring poem by the Quaker poet, John G. Whittier, as
follows:
"We wait beneath the furnace blast
The pangs of transformation;
Not painlessly doth God recast
And mould anew the nation.
Hot burns the fire
Where wrongs expire;
Nor spares the hand
That from the land
Uproots the ancient evil.
''The hand-breadth cloud the sages feared,
Its bloody rain is dropping;
The poison-plant the fathers spared
All else is overtopping.
East, West, South, North,
It curses the earth:
All justice dies,
And fraud and lies
Live only in its shadow.
"What gives the wheat-field blades of steel?
What points the rebel cannon?
What sets the roaring rabble's heel
On the old star-spangled pennon?
What breaks the oath
Of the men o' the South?
What whets the knife
For the Union's life?--
Hark to the answer: Slavery!
"Then waste no blows on lesser foes,
In strife unworthy freemen;
God lifts to-day the veil, and shows
The features of the demon'
O North and South*
Its victims both,
Can ye not cry,
'Let Slavery die!'
And Union find in freedom?
"What though the cast-out spirit tear
The nation in his going?
We who have shared the guilt must share
The pang of his o'erthrowing!
Whate'er the loss,
Whate'er the cross,
Shall they complain
Of present pain,
Who trust in God's hereafter?
"For who that leans on his right arm
Was ever yet forsaken?
What righteous cause can suffer harm,
If He its part has taken?
Though wild and loud,
And dark the cloud,
Behind its folds
His hand upholds
The calm sky of to-morrow!
"Above the maddening cry for blood,
Above the wild war-drumming,
Let Freedom's voice be heard, with good
The evil overcoming.
Give prayer and purse
To stay The Curse,
Whose wrong we share,
Whose shame we bear,
Whose end shall gladden Heaven!
"In vain the bells of war shall ring
Of triumphs and revenges,
While still is spared the evil thing
That severs and estranges.
But blest the ear
That yet shall hear
The jubilant bell
That rings the knell
Of Slavery forever!-
"Then let the selfish lip be dumb,
And hushed the breath of sighing;
Before the joy of peace must come
The pains of purifying.
God give us grace,
Each in his place
To bear his lot,
And, murmuring not,
Endure, and wait, and labor!"
To this was added another of Whittier's poems, called The Crisis, as
follows:
"The crisis presses on us; face to face with us it stands,
With solemn lips of question, like the Sphinx in Egypt's sands!
' This day we fashion Destiny, our web of fate we spin;
This day for all hereafter choose we holiness or sin;
Even now from starry Gerizim, or Ebal's cloudy crown,
We call the dews of blessing, or the bolts of cursing down!
"By all for which the martyrs bore their agony and shame;
By all the warning words of truth with which the prophets came;
' By the future which awaits us; by all the hopes which cast
' Their faint and trembling beams across the blackness of the past,
' And in the awful name of Him who for earth's freedom died;
O ye people, O my brothers! let us choose the righteous side!
"So shall the Northern pioneer go joyfully on his way,
To wed Penobscot's waters to San Francisco's bay;
To make the rugged places smooth, and sow the vales with grain,
' And bear, with Liberty and Law, the Bible in his train;
The mighty West shall bless the East, and sea shall answer sea;
' And mountain unto mountain call: Praise God, for we are
free!"
Though the regiments to which they sang were made up principally of
anti-slavery men, yet there were a few proslavery men among them, and
these objected, loudly and vehemently, to introducing or stimulating
anti-slavery sentiments among the soldiers. Especially did they object
to those lines by Whittier. This caused considerable discussion among
both officers and men, which, through one of the pro-slavery officers,
finally reached the ears of General McClellan, then in command of the
forces south of the Potomac. The General, for reasons best known to
himself, thereupon issued an order to the "Hutchinson Family" to sing no
more in the camps, and retire at once.
In obedience to this order, the "Family" left the camps and came to
Alexandria, on their way to Washington. The reason for their leaving the
camps had reached Alexandria before the coming of themselves, and had
produced a very strong feeling among the Union men of the city against
General McClellan, and in favor of the Hutchinsons.
On reaching there, they were called upon by a number of leading
citizens, among whom was Hon. Louis McKenzie, afterwards a member of
Congress from that district, and then and always a consistent Union
man. They requested the Hutchinsons to give a concert in the city
before leaving, and promised them a large and sympathizing audience. The
Hutchinsons were entirely willing to give a concert, provided they
could be assured of protection; but, having just been ordered by General
McClellan to leave his command, they feared to sing again south of the
Potomac, unless they had permission, and promise of protection, from
the local authorities. This the callers promised to procure, and at once
went to the general headquarters for that purpose.
They at first called upon General Montgomery. He, while entirely
sympathizing with their wishes, hesitated about giving such formal
permission, or promising any such protection, for the reason, that,
being within General McClellan's command, the General might regard it as
a contempt of his order to the Hutchinsons; nevertheless he would impose
no objections of any kind, and recommended the applicants to see Judge
Freese about it. General Montgomery really desired to do all that the
committee requested; but, for the reasons above stated, preferred that
Judge Freese should do it, by virtue of his milito-civic authority as
judge of the provost-court.
The committee next called upon the Provost-Judge and laid all the facts
before him, stating that General Montgomery had suggested that they
call upon him. They urgently requested Judge Freese to grant the needed
permission, with promise of personal protection. The Judge did not
hesitate a moment to grant both requests. He told the committee that
if the court, backed by the provost-guard, was not strong enough to
protect peaceable citizens in the giving of a concert, no matter what
was sung, the sooner the people knew it the better, and he was ready to
test the matter at once. As to General McClellan's order, he regarded it
as wholly unreasonable, and the army regulations required no officer to
obey an "unreasonable" order. While he had a very high regard personally
for General McClellan, he thought, in this matter, he had given too
much heed to the enemies, and too little heed to the friends, of the
government; and, whatever might be the consequences to himself, he
had no hesitancy in granting the asked-for permission and promise of
protection, even though General McClellan or his friends should regard
it in direct contumacy of his order to the Hutchinsons. The Judge
further said to the committee, that he "particularly desired _Whittier's
great poem to be sung_, nor need the singers hesitate to introduce other
war lyrics of like character--the more the better."
The committee then procured one of the churches in which to hold
the concert, and fixed upon the evening of the next day as the time.
Meanwhile the Provost-Judge directed the Provost-Marshal to double
the number of guards throughout the city for that night, from eight to
twelve o'clock, and to have all who were not on post at the church while
the concert was being held--each with loaded musket and fixed bayonet.
The news of the proposed concert spread rapidly through the city, and
when the evening and hour arrived, every seat in the church was filled,
while hundreds were gathered outside. The windows of the church were
thrown wide open, that the citizens and soldiers outside might the
better hear the words and music. The Provost-judge and Provost-Marshal
took seats near the outer door, and it was observed that while they
seemed to give one ear to the music, the other was given outside, to
catch the first note of alarm, should any occur. General Montgomery
expressed a very strong desire to attend the concert, but, out of
courtesy to General McClellan, his commanding officer, thought he had
better not, and therefore stayed away. The concert proceeded without
an iota of disturbance, and gave great pleasure to the many hundreds
present. Whittier's poem, and several others of like character, were so
encored that the singers were obliged to repeat them. When the concert
had ended, the Provost-judge and Provost-Marshal, with the guard which
had been stationed about the church, accompanied the Hutchinsons to
their lodgings, and left them in care of trusted friends. They were not
disturbed through the night, and left next morning for Washington, well
pleased with their stop-over at Alexandria.
This was not only a triumph over disloyalty, but another instance
strongly illustrating the restraining power which the provost-court held
in that community. The day preceding the concert, and the day of the
evening on which it was held, there were loud threats not only among
avowed secessionists, but among anti-administration men, that the
concert should not be given. Their own personal and political prejudices
had been so aroused, backed and stimulated by General McClellan's order,
that a single spark would have ignited their whole magazine of passion;
and but for the wholesome dread which they had of Judge Freese's
"Bayonet Court," as they were then in the habit of calling it, that
spark would undoubtedly have been applied.
The love of money, old political prejudices, and inordinate ambition,
were the three vile roots from which most of disloyalty sprang during
the late war, both in the North and in the South; and the illustrations
given in this chapter are but two of hundreds which might be given, if
the proposed limits of this volume would allow.
[Illustration: 0225]