ON DUTY AS A SPY AT THE REBEL CAPITAL, MONTGOMERY, ALABAMA—LIVING IN SAME HOTEL WITH JEFF DAVIS AND HIS CABINET—CONSPIRATORS FROM WASHINGTON INTERVIEWED—BOUNTY OFFERED BY CONFEDERATES BEFORE A GUN WAS FIRED—FORT SUMTER AND FORT PICKENS.
I was quartered at the Exchange Hotel, which was the headquarters and home of the leading men of the new government then gathering from all parts of the South. Here I spent some days in pretty close companionship with these gentlemen, taking notes in a general way, and endeavoring to learn all I could in regard to their plans.
I had learned, while skirmishing about Washington, to know at sight nearly all of the prominent people who were active in this movement, and perhaps the fact that I had been somewhat accustomed to being in their society, and being quite youthful gave me an assurance that enabled me to go about among them in a free and open way, without exciting any suspicion.
There were among the guests, a recent arrival from Washington City, a gentleman of some apparent prominence, as I judged from the amount of attention he was receiving.
I made it a point to look closely after him, and soon gathered the information that he had been a trusted employé of the Government, and at the same time had been secretly furnishing the rebel leaders, for some months, with information of the government's plans. He was at this time the bearer of important papers to the rebel government. This gentleman's name, which has escaped my memory in these twenty-five years, was placed upon record in the War Department at the time.
Jeff Davis, who had been chosen President, and had but recently come from his Mississippi home to Montgomery, attended by a committee of distinguished Southerners, who had been deputed to notify him of his election, lived at the same hotel, where I saw him frequently every day.
There were also to be seen in the hotel office, in the corridors, in the barbers' shops, and even in the bar-room, groups of animated, earnest, intensely earnest men, discussing the great "impending conflict."
I walked about the streets of the Confederate Capital with perfect freedom, visiting any place of interest that I could find. Throughout the city there was not much in the way of enthusiasm; indeed, the fact that was particularly noticeable then was the apparent difference in this respect between the people at the hotel and the citizens.
Of course there were meetings and speeches, with the usual brass-band accompaniment every evening, while, during the day, an occasional parade up and down the principal streets of the town, headed by the martial fife and drum, which were always played with delight and a great deal of energy by the colored boys.
There was an absence of enthusiasm and excitement among the common people, which was a disappointment to those who had expected so much.
The existence of an historical fact, which I have never seen printed, is, that before a gun had been fired by either party, there were posted on the walls of the Confederate Capital large handbills offering a "bounty" to recruits to their army.
In my walks about town my attention was attracted by a bill, posted on a fence, bearing in large letters the heading,
BOUNTY.
The word was at that time something entirely new to me, and as I was out in search of information, I walked up closer to learn its meaning, and was surprised at the information, as well as the advice the advertisement contained, which was to the effect that certain moneys would be paid all those who would enlist in a certain Alabama regiment.
Lest there should be a disposition to challenge the correctness of this somewhat remarkable statement, I will mention now that this fact was reported to the War Department, and a copy of this bounty advertisement was also embodied in a letter that was intended to be a description of the scenes at Montgomery, in April, 1861, during the firing on Sumter, which I wrote at the time and mailed secretly in the Montgomery Postoffice, addressed to Robert McKnight, then the editor of the Pittsburgh Chronicle, to which I, with an apprehension of a possible Rebel censorship, neglected to attach my name. Mr. McKnight, the next time I saw him, laughingly asked me if I hadn't sent him such a letter, saying he had printed it, with comments, at the time, which, as nearly as I can remember, was between April 18th and 20th, 1861.
This was probably among the first letters published from a "war correspondent," written from the actual seat of war.
Mr. Davis occupied a suite of rooms at the Exchange, on the left of the first corridor, and there were always congregated about his door groups of men, while others were constantly going and coming from his rooms.
I was a constant attendant about this door, and witnessed the many warm greetings of welcome that were so cordially extended to each new arrival as they reported to headquarters.
It seemed odd to hear those people talk about the "President," but of course I had to meekly listen to their immense conceit about their "government," as well as their expressions of contempt and hatred for that to which but a short time before, when they had the control, they were so devotedly attached.
In the same room with myself was a young fellow who had been at the school at West Point, from which he had resigned to enter the rebel service. He kept constantly talking to me about "My State," and the "plebians" of the North, but, as he was able to furnish me with some points, we became quite congenial friends and talked together, after going to bed, sometimes until long after midnight. I was, of course, when necessity or policy demanded it, one of the original secessionists.
The attention of everybody both North and South was being directed to Fort Sumter, and a good deal of the war-talk we heard about the Rebel headquarters was in regard to that.
This young fellow and I planned to go together to Charleston to see the ball open there, and, with this object in view, he set about to learn something of the plans of the "President," which kindness I duly appreciated.
One day, while lounging about the hotel corridors, I learned from a conversation between a group of highly exuberant Southern gentlemen, which was being hilariously carried on, that President Davis and his advisers had that day issued the necessary orders, or authority to General Beauregard, to commence firing on the Union flag at Fort Sumter the following day.
These gentlemen, none of whose names I remember, excepting Wm. L. Yancey, were so intent upon their success in thus "precipitating" the rebellion, that they took no notice of the innocent boy who was apparently so intent at that moment upon some interesting item in the paper, but I quietly gathered in all they had to say to each other, and at the first opportunity set about planning to make use of this information; but here I experienced, at the beginning of my career as a spy, the same unfortunate conditions that had so often baffled me and interfered with my success in the months and years following.
Though reckless and almost foolish in my boyish adventures, I was sufficiently cautious and discreet to know that a telegram conveying this news would not be permitted to go over the wires from Montgomery to Washington, and to have filed such a message would have subjected me to serious embarrassments.
There being no cipher facilities arranged so early in the war, I was left entirely without resource, though I did entertain a project of going to a neighboring town and from there arrange to manipulate the key myself, and in this manner try to give the information, but I was forced to abandon this scheme on learning, which I did by hanging about the dingy little Montgomery telegraph office, that all their communications were relayed or repeated once or twice either at Augusta or Chattanooga and Charleston before reaching the North.
I did the next best thing, however, hastily writing a letter to Washington, which I stealthily dropped into the postoffice, hurrying away lest the clerk should discover who had dropped a letter addressed to a foreign government without payment of additional postage.
Of those yet living who were witnesses of the "Great uprising of the North," after the fall of Fort Sumter, none are likely ever to forget the scenes which followed so quickly upon this first attempt of the Southern fire-eaters to "precipitate the Cotton States into the rebellion."
Solitary and alone I held my little indignation meeting in Montgomery, the capital of the rebel government, where I was at the time, if not a stranger in a strange land, at least an enemy in a foreign country. When the news of Fort Sumter's fall reached Montgomery it was bulletined "that every vestige of the hateful enemy has been gloriously driven from the soil of the pioneer Palmetto State," and I recall, with distinctness, that the universal comment then was: "We will next clean them out in the same way from Florida," etc.
I felt that, in having failed to get this information to Washington in advance, I had neglected a great opportunity to do the government an important service, but in this I was mistaken, as events subsequently proved that the authorities at Washington were powerless to prevent the bombardment that was anticipated.
There was no person among that people to whom I dare talk, for fear of betraying myself by giving vent to my feelings, so I walked wildly up and down the one main street of Montgomery in a manner that at any other time would have been considered eccentric, but, as everybody was wild that day, my actions were not noticed. Feeling that I must blow off steam some way or I should bust, I continued my walk out on the railroad track beyond the outskirts of the town, in the direction of Charleston. During my walk I met an old "Uncle," whom, from the color of his skin, I knew to be a true friend of the government, and into the wide-awake ears of this old man I poured a wild, incendiary harangue about what would surely happen to this people. This was not a very sensible thing to do, either, at that time, but I just had to say something to somebody, and this was my only chance. After having thus exhausted my high pressure on the poor old man, who must have thought me crazy, I discovered that my legs were "exhausted," too, and turned my face wearily back toward the city.
That night there were serenades and speeches, with the regular brass-band accompaniment impromptu processions up and down the main street, headed by the fife-and-drum music of the colored "boys," as all the "likely" colored men were called down South at that time, even if they were forty years old.
I had seen Jeff Davis once during the day, while in his room surrounded by a crowd of enthusiastic friends, and, though I did not have occasion to speak to "the President," I was close enough to him on the day he gave the command to fire Sumter, to have killed him on the spot, and I was about wild and crazy enough at the time to have made the attempt without once considering the consequences to myself, if there had occurred at the instant any immediate provocation.
Mr. Davis' manner and appearance always impressed me with a feeling of kindness and even admiration. In the years following it became my fate to have been near his person in disguise, frequently while in Richmond, and I could at any time then have ended his career by sacrificing my own life, if the exigencies of the government had in my imagination required it.
I took note of the fact that a great deal was being said about what they would do next, at Fort Pickens, in Pensacola Harbor. To this point I directed my attention, determined that another such an affair as this at Charleston should not escape me.
One night, shortly after I had reached Montgomery, when my West Point companion and I had retired for the night, but were yet talking over the great future of the South, as we did every night, he almost paralyzed me by saying, "Well, stranger, you talk all right, of course, but do you know that you remind me mightily of the fellows at the Point, who are all the time meddling about the affairs of our Southern States." Fortunately for me, perhaps, the room was dark at the time, which enabled me the better to hide the embarrassment that daylight must have shown in my face and manner. After recovering my breath a little, I put on an indignant air and demanded a repetition of the remark. This served to allay any suspicions that he may have been entertaining, for the young fellow, in his gentlemanly and courteous manner, was at once profuse in his explanations, which gave me the time to collect my thoughts. I told him that I was the nephew of an English gentleman, who lived away off in Western Texas, who owned any quantity of cattle and niggers; I was then on my way, from school at the North, to my Texas home, tarrying at Montgomery, en route, to meet some friends. This was more than satisfactory to the young man, who seemed to take especial pleasure after this in introducing me to any friends that we would come across while together so constantly in Montgomery.
This mother tongue "provincialism" was one of the greatest difficulties that I encountered in these Southern excursions, though at the time of which I am now writing strangers were not scrutinized so closely as became the rule soon after, when martial law was everywhere in operation, and provost-marshals were exceedingly numerous. I had endeavored to bridle my tongue as far as possible. My plan to quiet this apprehension was to play the "refugee" from Maryland, "my Maryland," or else, if the circumstances and surroundings were better adapted to it, I was an English sympathizer who had but recently arrived in the country. The Maryland racket was, however, the most popular, and it was also the easiest worked, because I had another uncle living in Baltimore, whom I had frequently visited, and, as has been stated, I was born almost on the Maryland line of English stock.
While in Montgomery it did not seem necessary to hang about the telegraph offices to obtain information. I availed myself however of this "facility" to learn something more definite about the programme they had laid out for Fort Pickens, in Pensacola Harbor, to which, after the fall of Fort Sumter, the attention of both the North and the South was being directed.
The "Government at Washington" which was at this time cut off from any communication with its officers at Pickens except by sea, had, after the manner of Major Anderson at Sumter, secretly withdrawn their little handful of troops, who were under the command of Lieutenant Slemmer, a native of Pennsylvania, step by step, as they were pressed by the arrival each day of detachments of quite fresh militia from the sovereign State of Florida, to Fort Barrancas first, then to Fort McRae, on the mainland, and from thence to Pickens, which is located on the extreme point of Santa Rosa Island, on the opposite side of the bay or harbor from Forts McRae and Barrancas.
I was able to learn from the general character of its extensive telegraph correspondence, which was being carried on over the wires, that President Lincoln had in some way expressed, in the hearing of the secret agents of the rebel government (who were in Washington and in constant communication with the conspirators at Montgomery) an earnest desire to reinforce Fort Pickens, with a view to holding possession of that one point in the "Cotton State" that had seceded from the Union; and the Navy Department at Washington, especially desiring to control the harbor and navy yards located there, had, if I remember aright, already dispatched by water a small fleet to their aid, but which would require a week or ten days to reach Pensacola, they having to go around by the ocean to Key West and up the Gulf of Mexico, doubling the entire Peninsula of Florida.
As I had left Washington some time before, and had not had any communication with the North while in Montgomery, all this information was derived entirely through Rebel sources, and more particularly by the noisy tongue of a telegraph sounder, which talked loud enough for me to hear whenever I chose to get within sound of its brazen voice.
I was exceedingly anxious to get back North, that I might take some active part in the coming struggle, but fate decreed otherwise; and, instead of getting out of this tight place, it was my destiny to have been led still deeper into the mire. I was within a day's travel of the beleaguered little garrison at Fort Pickens, with a positive knowledge that the government was coming to their assistance, and also the information that at the same time the Rebel government had some designs upon them, the exact nature of which I could not ascertain.
In this emergency, while I do not believe that I felt it a duty, I am sure that I did think it would be a good thing for the fellows at Pickens to be informed of the intentions of both the governments toward them, and as I could not then communicate with Secretary Cameron, at Washington, I concluded to take the matter in my own hands, and find out, if possible, just what was proposed, and endeavor to communicate with Secretary Cameron.
By giving close attention to the guests at the hotel, who were mostly officials of the newly made government, I ascertained by mere accident that a certain gentleman was at that moment getting ready to leave the hotel for the boat, on his way to Pensacola as a bearer of dispatches or as a commissioner—there were lots of commissioners in those early days—to settle the status of affairs at that point. This circumstance decided my actions at once, and as I had seen enough of Montgomery, and was besides becoming a little uneasy about my status there, I concluded to accompany this commissioner and, if possible, anticipate him in bearing my own dispatch to Lieutenant Slemmer, so I shadowed the ambassador closely and walked up the gang plank at the same time he did; as I remember very well the plank was very springy and the ambassador of Jeff Davis and the secret agent of the Secretary of War kept step, and marked time on the gang plank, both bound for the same destination but on widely different errands.