CHAPTER IX. Interview with Mr. Seward
Interview with Mr. Seward—My passport—Mr. Seward’s views as to the war—Illumination at Washington—My “servant” absents himself—New York journalism—The Capitol—Interior of Congress—The President’s Message—Speeches in Congress—Lord Lyons—General M‘Dowell—Low standard in the army—Accident to the “Stars and Stripes”—A street row—Mr. Bigelow—Mr. N.P. Willis.
When the Senate had adjourned, I drove to the State Department and saw Mr. Seward, who looked much more worn and haggard than when I saw him last, three months ago. He congratulated me on my safe return from the South in time to witness some stirring events. “Well, Mr. Secretary, I am quite sure that, if all the South are of the same mind as those I met in my travels, there will be many battles before they submit to the Federal Government.”
“It is not submission to the Government we want; it is to assent to the principles of the Constitution. When you left Washington we had a few hundred regulars and some hastily-levied militia to defend the national capital, and a battery and a half of artillery under the command of a traitor. The Navy-yard was in the hands of a disloyal officer. We were surrounded by treason. Now we are supported by the loyal States which have come forward in defence of the best Government on the face of the earth, and the unfortunate and desperate men who have commenced this struggle will have to yield or experience the punishment due to their crimes.”
“But, Mr. Seward, has not this great exhibition of strength been attended by some circumstances calculated to inspire apprehension that liberty in the free States may be impaired; for instance, I hear that I must procure a passport in order to travel through the States and go into the camps in front of Washington.”
“Yes, sir; you must send your passport here from Lord Lyons, with his signature. It will be no good till I have signed it, and then it must be sent to General Scott, as Commander-in-Chief of the United States army, who will subscribe it, after which it will be available for all legitimate purposes. You are not in any way impaired in your liberty by the process.”
“Neither is, one may say, the man who is under surveillance of the police in despotic countries in Europe; he has only to submit to a certain formality, and he is all right; in fact, it is said by some people, that the protection afforded by a passport is worth all the trouble connected with having it in order.”
Mr. Seward seemed to think it was quite likely. There were corresponding measures taken in the Southern States by the rebels, and it was necessary to have some control over traitors and disloyal persons. “In this contest,” said he, “the Government will not shrink from using all the means which they consider necessary to restore the Union.” It was not my place to remark that such doctrines were exactly identical with all that despotic governments in Europe have advanced as the ground of action in cases of revolt, or with a view to the maintenance of their strong Governments. “The Executive,” said he, “has declared in the inaugural that the rights of the Federal Government shall be fully vindicated. We are dealing with an insurrection within our own country, of our own people, and the Government of Great Britain have thought fit to recognise that insurrection before we were able to bring the strength of the Union to bear against it, by conceding to it the status of belligerent. Although we might justly complain of such an unfriendly act in a manner that might injure the friendly relations between the two countries, we do not desire to give any excuse for foreign interference; although we do not hesitate, in case of necessity, to resist it to the uttermost, we have less to fear from a foreign war than any country in the world. If any European Power provokes a war, we shall not shrink from it. A contest between Great Britain and the United States would wrap the world in fire, and at the end it would not be the United States which would have to lament the results of the conflict.”
I could not but admire the confidence—may I say the coolness?—of the statesman who sat in his modest little room within the sound of the evening’s guns, in a capital menaced by their forces who spoke so fearlessly of war with a Power which could have blotted out the paper blockade of the Southern forts and coast in a few hours, and, in conjunction with the Southern armies, have repeated the occupation and destruction of the capital.
The President sent for Mr. Seward whilst I was in the State Department, and I walked up Pennsylvania Avenue to my lodgings, through a crowd of men in uniform who were celebrating Independence Day in their own fashion—some by the large internal use of fire-water, others by an external display of fireworks.
Directly opposite my lodgings are the head-quarters of General Mansfield, commanding the district, which are marked by a guard at the door and a couple of six-pounder guns pointing down the street. I called upon the General, but he was busy examining certain inhabitants of Alexandria and of Washington itself, who had been brought before him on the charge of being Secessionists, and I left my card, and proceeded to General Scott’s head-quarters, which I found packed with officers. The General received me in a small room, and expressed his gratification at my return, but I saw he was so busy with reports, despatches, and maps, that I did not trespass on his time. I dined with Lord Lyons, and afterwards went with some members of the Legation to visit the camps, situated in the public square.
All the population of Washington had turned out in their best to listen to the military bands, the music of which was rendered nearly inaudible by the constant discharge of fireworks. The camp of the 12th New York presented a very pretty and animated scene. The men liberated from duty were enjoying themselves out and inside their tents, and the sutlers’ booths were driving a roaring trade. I was introduced to Colonel Butterfield, commanding the regiment, who was a merchant of New York; but notwithstanding the training of the counting-house, he looked very much like a soldier, and had got his regiment very fairly in hand. In compliance with a desire of Professor Henry, the Colonel had prepared a number of statistical tables in which the nationality, height, weight, breadth of chest, age, and other particulars respecting the men under his command were entered. I looked over the book, and as far as I could judge, but two out of twelve of the soldiers were native-born Americans, the rest being Irish, German, English, and European-born generally. According to the commanding officer they were in the highest state of discipline and obedience. He had given them leave to go out as they pleased for the day, but at tattoo only 14 men out of 1000 were absent, and some of those had been accounted for by reports that they were incapable of locomotion owing to the hospitality of the citizens.
When I returned to my lodgings, the coloured boy whom I had hired at Niagara was absent, and I was told he had not come in since the night before. “These free coloured boys,” said my landlord, “are a bad set; now they are worse than ever; the officers of the army are taking them all away from us; it’s just the life they like; they get little work, have good pay; but what they like most is robbing and plundering the farmers’ houses over in Virginia; what with Germans Irish, and free niggers, Lord help the poor Virginians, I say; but they’ll give them a turn yet.”
The sounds in Washington to-night might have led one to believe the city was carried by storm. Constant explosion of firearms, fireworks, shouting, and cries in the streets, which combined, with the heat and the abominable odours of the undrained houses and mosquitoes, to drive sleep far away.
July 5th.—As the young gentleman of colour, to whom I had given egregious ransom as well as an advance of wages, did not appear this morning, I was, after an abortive attempt to boil water for coffee and to get a piece of toast, compelled to go in next door, and avail myself of the hospitality of Captain Cecil Johnson, who was installed in the drawing-room of Madame Jost. In the forenoon, Mr. John Bigelow, whose acquaintance I made, much to my gratification in time gone by, on the margin of the Lake of Thun, found me out, and proffered his services; which, as the whilom editor of the Evening Post and as a leading Republican, he was in a position to render valuable and most effective; but he could not make a Bucephalus to order, and I have been running through the stables of Washington in vain, hoping to find something up to my weight—such flankless, screwy, shoulderless, cat-like creatures were never seen—four of them would scarcely furnish ribs and legs enough to carry a man, but the owners thought that each of them was fit for Baron Rothschild; and then there was saddlery and equipments of all sorts to be got, which the influx of officers and the badness and dearness of the material put quite beyond one’s reach. Mr. Bigelow was of opinion that the army would move at once; “but,” said I, “where is the transport—where the cavalry and guns?” “Oh,” replied he “I suppose we have got everything that is required. I know nothing of these things, but I am told cavalry are no use in the wooded country towards Richmond.” I have not yet been able to go through the camps, but I doubt very much whether the material or commissariat of the grand army of the North is at all adequate to a campaign.
The presumption and ignorance of the New York journals would be ridiculous were they not so mischievous. They describe “this horde of battalion companies—unofficered, clad in all kinds of different uniform, diversely equipped, perfectly ignorant of the principles of military obedience and concerted action,”—for so I hear it described by United States officers themselves—as being “the greatest army the world ever saw; perfect in officers and discipline; unsurpassed in devotion and courage; furnished with every requisite; and destined on its first march to sweep into Richmond, and to obliterate from the Potomac to New Orleans every trace of rebellion.”
The Congress met to-day to hear the President’s Message read. Somehow or other there is not such anxiety and eagerness to hear what Mr. Lincoln has to say as one could expect on such a momentous occasion. It would seem as if the forthcoming appeal to arms had overshadowed every other sentiment in the minds of the people. They are waiting for deeds, and care not for words. The confidence of the New York papers, and of the citizens, soldiers, and public speakers, contrast with the dubious and gloomy views of the military men; but of this Message itself there are some incidents independent of the occasion to render it curious, if not interesting. The President has, it is said, written much of it in his own fashion, which has been revised and altered by his Ministers; but he has written it again and repeated himself, and after many struggles a good deal of pure Lincolnism goes down to Congress.
At a little after half-past eleven I went down to the Capitol. Pennsylvania Avenue was thronged as before, but on approaching Capitol Hill, the crowd rather thinned away, as though they shunned, or had no curiosity to hear, the President’s Message. One would have thought that, where every one who could get in was at liberty to attend the galleries in both Houses, there would have been an immense pressure from the inhabitants and strangers in the city, as well as from the citizen soldiers, of which such multitudes were in the street; but when I looked up from the floor of the Senate, I was astonished to see that the galleries were not more than three parts filled. There is always a ruinous look about an unfinished building when it is occupied and devoted to business. The Capitol is situated on a hill, one face of which is scarped by the road, and has the appearance of being formed of heaps of rubbish. Towards Pennsylvania Avenue the long frontage abuts on a lawn shaded by trees, through which walks and avenues lead to the many entrances under the porticoes and colonnades; the face which corresponds on the other side looks out on heaps of brick and mortar, cut stone, and a waste of marble blocks lying half buried in the earth and cumbering the ground, which, in the magnificent ideas of the founders and planners of the city, was to be occupied by stately streets. The cleverness of certain speculators in land prevented the execution of the original idea, which was to radiate all the main avenues of the city from the Capitol as a centre, the intermediate streets being formed by circles drawn at regularly-increasing intervals from the Capitol, and intersected by the radii. The speculators purchased up the land on the side between the Navy-yard and the site of the Capitol; the result—the land is unoccupied, except by paltry houses, and the capitalists are ruined.
The Capitol would be best described by a series of photographs. Like the Great Republic itself, it is unfinished. It resembles it in another respect: it looks best at a distance; and, again, it is incongruous in its parts. The passages are so dark that artificial light is often required to enable one to find his way. The offices and bureaux of the committees are better than the chambers of the Senate and the House of Representatives. All the encaustics and the white marble and stone staircases suffer from tobacco juice, though there is a liberal display of spittoons at every corner. The official messengers, doorkeepers, and porters wear no distinctive badge or dress. No policemen are on duty, as in our Houses of Parliament; no soldiery, gendarmerie, or sergens-de-ville in the precincts; the crowd wanders about the passages as it pleases, and shows the utmost propriety, never going where it ought not to intrude. There is a special gallery set apart for women; the reporters are commodiously placed in an ample gallery, above the Speaker’s chair; the diplomatic circle have their gallery facing the reporters, and they are placed so low down in the somewhat depressed Chamber, that every word can be heard from speakers in the remotest parts of the house very distinctly.
The seats of the members are disposed in a manner somewhat like those in the French Chambers. Instead of being in parallel rows to the walls, and at right angles to the Chairman’s seat, the separate chairs and desks of the Senators are arranged in semicircular rows. The space between the walls and the outer semicircle is called the floor of the house, and it is a high compliment to a stranger to introduce him within this privileged place. There are leather cushioned seats and lounges put for the accommodation of those who may be introduced by Senators, or to whom, as distinguished members of Congress in former days, the permission is given to take their seats. Senators Sumner and Wilson introduced me to a chair, and made me acquainted with a number of Senators before the business of the day began.
Mr. Sumner, as the Chairman of the Committee on Foreign Relations, is supposed to be viewed with some jealousy by Mr. Seward, on account of the disposition attributed to him to interfere in diplomatic questions; but if he does so, we shall have no reason to complain, as the Senator is most desirous of keeping the peace between the two countries, and of mollifying any little acerbities and irritations which may at present exist between them. Senator Wilson is a man who has risen from what would be considered in any country but a republic the lowest ranks of the people. He apprenticed himself to a poor shoemaker when he was twenty-two years of age, and when he was twenty-four years old he began to go to school, and devoted all his earnings to the improvement of education. He got on by degrees, till he set up as a master shoe maker and manufacturer, became a “major-general” of State militia; finally was made Senator of the United States, and is now “Chairman of the Committee of the Senate on Military Affairs.” He is a bluff man, of about fifty years of age, with a peculiar eye and complexion, and seems honest and vigorous. But is he not going ultra crepidam in such a post? At present he is much perplexed by the drunkenness which prevails among the troops, or rather by the desire of the men for spirits, as he has a New England mania on that point. One of the most remarkable-looking men in the House is Mr. Sumner. Mr. Breckinridge and he would probably be the first persons to excite the curiosity of a stranger, so far as to induce him to ask for their names. Save in height—and both are a good deal over six feet—there is no resemblance between the champion of States Rights and the orator of the Black Republicans. The massive head, the great chin and jaw, and the penetrating eyes of Mr. Breckinridge convey the idea of a man of immense determination, courage, and sagacity. Mr. Sumner’s features are indicative of a philosophical and poetical turn of thought, and one might easily conceive that he would be a great advocate, but an indifferent leader of a party.
It was a hot day; but there was no excuse for the slop coats and light-coloured clothing and felt wide-awakes worn by so many Senators in such a place. They gave the meeting the aspect of a gathering of bakers or millers; nor did the constant use of the spittoons beside their desks, their reading of newspapers and writing letters during the dispatch of business, or the hurrying to and fro of the pages of the House between the seats, do anything but derogate from the dignity of the assemblage, and, according to European notions, violate the respect due to a Senate Chamber. The pages alluded to are smart boys, from twelve to fifteen years of age, who stand below the President’s table, and are employed to go on errands and carry official messages by the members. They wear no particular uniform, and are dressed as the taste or means of their parents dictate.
The House of Representatives exaggerates all the peculiarities I have observed in the Senate, but the debates are not regarded with so much interest as those of the Upper House; indeed, they are of far less importance. Strong-minded statesmen and officers—Presidents or Ministers—do not care much for the House of Representatives, so long as they are sure of the Senate; and, for the matter of that, a President like Jackson does not care much for Senate and House together. There are privileges attached to a seat in either branch of the Legislature, independent of the great fact that they receive mileage and are paid for their services, which may add some incentive to ambition. Thus the members can order whole tons of stationery for their use, not only when they are in session, but during the recess. Their frank covers parcels by mail, and it is said that Senators without a conscience have sent sewing-machines to their wives and pianos to their daughters as little parcels by post. I had almost forgotten that much the same abuses were in vogue in England some century ago.
The galleries were by no means full, and in that reserved for the diplomatic body the most notable person was M. Mercier, the Minister of France, who, fixing his intelligent and eager face between both hands, watched with keen scrutiny the attitude and conduct of the Senate. None of the members of the English Legation were present. After the lapse of an hour, Mr. Hay, the President’s Secretary, made his appearance on the floor, and sent in the Message to the Clerk of the Senate, Mr. Forney, who proceeded to read it to the House. It was listened to in silence, scarcely broken except when some Senator murmured “Good, that is so;” but in fact the general purport of it was already known to the supporters of the Ministry, and not a sound came from the galleries. Soon after Mr. Forney had finished, the galleries were cleared, and I returned up Pennsylvania Avenue, in which the crowds of soldiers around bar-rooms, oyster shops, and restaurants, the groups of men in officers’ uniform, and the clattering of disorderly mounted cavaliers in the dust, increased my apprehension that discipline was very little regarded, and that the army over the Potomac had not a very strong hand to keep it within bounds.
As I was walking over with Captain Johnson to dine with Lord Lyons, I met General Scott leaving his office and walking with great difficulty between two aides-de-camp. He was dressed in a blue frock with gold lace shoulder straps, fastened round the waist by a yellow sash, and with large yellow lapels turned back over the chest in the old style, and moved with great difficulty along the pavement. “You see I am trying to hobble along, but it is hard for me to overcome my many infirmities. I regret I could not have the pleasure of granting you an interview to-day, but I shall cause it to be intimated to you when I may have the pleasure of seeing you; meantime I shall provide you with a pass and the necessary introductions to afford you all facilities with the army.”
After dinner I made a round of visits, and heard the diplomatists speaking of the Message; few, if any of them, in its favour. With the exception perhaps of Baron Gerolt, the Prussian Minister, there is not one member of the Legations who justifies the attempt of the Northern States to assert the supremacy of the Federal Government by the force of arms. Lord Lyons, indeed, in maintaining a judicious reticence whenever he does speak, gives utterance to sentiments becoming the representative of Great Britain at the court of a friendly Power, and the Minister of a people who have been protagonists to slavery for many a long year.
July 6th.—I breakfasted with Mr. Bigelow this morning, to meet General M‘Dowell, who commands the army of the Potomac, now so soon to move. He came in without an aide-de-camp, and on foot, from his quarters in the city. He is a man about forty years of age, square and powerfully built, but with rather a stout and clumsy figure and limbs, a good head covered with close-cut thick dark hair, small light-blue eyes, short nose, large cheeks and jaw, relieved by an iron-grey tuft somewhat of the French type, and affecting in dress the style of our gallant allies. His manner is frank, simple, and agreeable, and he did not hesitate to speak with great openness of the difficulties he had to contend with, and the imperfection of all the arrangements of the army.
As an officer of the regular army he has a thorough contempt for what he calls “political generals”—the men who use their influence with President and Congress to obtain military rank, which in time of war places them before the public in the front of events, and gives them an appearance of leading in the greatest of all political movements. Nor is General M‘Dowell enamoured of volunteers, for he served in Mexico, and has from what he saw there formed rather an unfavourable opinion of their capabilities in the field. He is inclined, however, to hold the Southern troops in too little respect; and he told me that the volunteers from the slave states, who entered the field full of exultation and boastings, did not make good their words, and that they suffered especially from sickness and disease, in consequence of their disorderly habits and dissipation. His regard for old associations was evinced in many questions he asked me about Beauregard, with whom he had been a student at West Point, where the Confederate commander was noted for his studious and reserved habits, and his excellence in feats of strength and athletic exercises.
As proof of the low standard established in his army, he mentioned that some officers of considerable rank were more than suspected of selling rations, and of illicit connections with sutlers for purposes of pecuniary advantage. The General walked back with me as far as my lodgings, and I observed that not one of the many soldiers he passed in the streets saluted him, though his rank was indicated by his velvet collar and cuffs, and a gold star on the shoulder strap.
Having written some letters, I walked out with Captain Johnson and one of the attachés of the British Legation, to the lawn at the back of the White House, and listened to the excellent band of the United States Marines, playing on a kind of dais under the large flag recently hoisted by the President himself, in the garden. The occasion was marked by rather an ominous event. As the President pulled the halyards and the flag floated aloft, a branch of a tree caught the bunting and tore it, so that a number of the stars and stripes were detached and hung dangling beneath the rest of the flag, half detached from the staff.
I dined at Captain Johnson’s lodgings next door to mine. Beneath us was a wine and spirit store, and crowds of officers and men flocked indiscriminately to make their purchases, with a good deal of tumult, which increased as the night came on. Later still, there was a great disturbance in the city. A body of New York Zouaves wrecked some houses of bad repute, in one of which a private of the regiment was murdered early this morning. The cavalry patrols were called out and charged the rioters, who were dispersed with difficulty after resistance in which men on both sides were wounded. There is no police, no provost guard. Soldiers wander about the streets, and beg in the fashion of the mendicant in “Gil Blas” for money to get whisky. My coloured gentleman has been led away by the Saturnalia and has taken to gambling in the camps, which are surrounded by hordes of rascally followers and sutlers’ servants, and I find myself on the eve of a campaign, without servant, horse, equipment, or means of transport.
July 7th.—Mr. Bigelow invited me to breakfast, to meet Mr. Senator King, Mr. Olmsted, Mr. Thurlow Weed, a Senator from Missouri, a West Point professor, and others. It was indicative of the serious difficulties which embarrass the action of the Government to hear Mr. Wilson, the Chairman of the Military Committee of the Senate, inveigh against the officers of the regular army, and attack West Point itself. Whilst the New York papers were lauding General Scott and his plans to the skies, the Washington politicians were speaking of him as obstructive, obstinate, and prejudiced—unfit for the times and the occasion.
General Scott refused to accept cavalry and artillery at the beginning of the levy, and said that they were not required; now he was calling for both arms most urgently. The officers of the regular army had followed suit. Although they were urgently pressed by the politicians to occupy Harper’s Ferry and Manassas, they refused to do either, and the result is that the enemy have obtained invaluable supplies from the first place, and are now assembled in force in a most formidable position at the second. Everything as yet accomplished has been done by political generals—not by the officers of the regular army. Butler and Banks saved Baltimore in spite of General Scott. There was an attempt made to cry up Lyon in Missouri; but in fact it was Frank Blair, the brother of the Postmaster-General, who had been the soul and body of all the actions in that State. The first step taken by M‘Clellan in Western Virginia was atrocious—he talked of slaves in a public document as property. Butler, at Monroe, had dealt with them in a very different spirit, and had used them for State purposes under the name of contraband. One man alone displayed powers of administrative ability, and that was Quartermaster Meigs; and unquestionably from all I heard, the praise was well bestowed. It is plain enough that the political leaders fear the consequences of delay, and that they are urging the military authorities to action, which the latter have too much professional knowledge to take with their present means. These Northern men know nothing of the South, and with them it is omne ignotum pro minimo. The West Point professor listened to them with a quiet smile, and exchanged glances with me now and then, as much as to say, “Did you ever hear such fools in your life?”
But the conviction of ultimate success is not less strong here than it is in the South. The difference between these gentlemen and the Southerners is, that in the South the leaders of the people, soldiers and civilians, are all actually under arms, and are ready to make good their words by exposing their bodies in battle.
I walked home with Mr. N.P. Willis, who is at Washington for the purpose of writing sketches to the little family journal of which he is editor, and giving war “anecdotes;” and with Mr. Olmsted, who is acting as a member of the New York Sanitary Commission, here authorised by the Government to take measures against the reign of dirt and disease in the Federal camp. The Republicans are very much afraid that there is, even at the present moment, a conspiracy against the Union in Washington—nay, in Congress itself; and regard Mr. Breckenridge, Mr. Bayard, Mr. Vallandigham, and others as most dangerous enemies, who should not be permitted to remain in the capital. I attended the Episcopal church and heard a very excellent discourse, free from any political allusion. The service differs little from our own, except that certain euphemisms are introduced in the Litany and elsewhere, and the prayers for Queen and Parliament are offered up nomine mutato for President and Congress.