CHAPTER XVI. Attack of Illness
Attack of Illness—General M‘Clellan—Reception at the White House—Drunkenness among the Volunteers—Visit from Mr. Olmsted—Georgetown—Intense Heat—M‘Clellan and the Newspapers—Reception at Mr. Seward’s—Alexandria—A Storm—Sudden Death of an English Officer—The Maryland Club—A Prayer and Fast Day—Financial Difficulties.
July 27th.—So ill to-day from heat, bad smells in the house, and fatigue, that I sent for Dr. Miller, a great, fine Virginian practitioner, who ordered me powders to be taken in “mint juleps.” Now mint juleps are made of whiskey, sugar, ice, very little water, and sprigs of fresh mint, to be sucked up after the manner of sherry cobblers, if so it be pleased, with a straw.
“A powder every two hours, with a mint julep. Why, that’s six a day, Doctor. Won’t that be—eh?—won’t that be rather intoxicating?”
“Well, sir, that depends on the constitution. You’ll find they will do you no harm, even if the worst takes place.”
Day after day, till the month was over and August had come, I passed in a state of powder and julep, which the Virginian doctor declared saved my life. The first time I stirred out the change which had taken place in the streets was at once apparent: no drunken rabblement of armed men, no begging soldiers—instead of these were patrols in the streets, guards at the corners, and a rigid system of passes. The North begin to perceive their magnificent armies are mythical, but knowing they have the elements of making one, they are setting about the manufacture. Numbers of tapsters and serving men, and canaille from the cities, who now disgrace swords and shoulder-straps, are to be dismissed. Round the corner, with a kind of staff at his heels and an escort, comes Major General George B. M‘Clellan, the young Napoleon (of Western Virginia), the conqueror of Garnet, the captor of Peagrim, the commander-in-chief, under the President, of the army of the United States. He is a very squarely-built, thick-throated, broad-chested man, under the middle height, with slightly bowed legs, a tendency to embonpoint. His head, covered with a closely cut crop of dark auburn hair, is well set on his shoulders. His features are regular and prepossessing—the brow small, contracted, and furrowed; the eyes deep and anxious-looking. A short, thick, reddish moustache conceals his mouth; the rest of his face is clean shaven. He has made his father-in-law, Major Marcy, chief of his staff, and is a good deal influenced by his opinions, which are entitled to some weight, as Major Marcy is a soldier, and has seen frontier wars, and is a great traveller. The task of licking this army into shape is of Herculean magnitude. Every one, however, is willing to do as he bids: the President confides in him, and “Georges” him; the press fawn upon him, the people trust him; he is “the little corporal” of unfought fields—omnis ignotus pro mirifico, here. He looks like a stout little captain of dragoons, but for his American seat and saddle. The latter is adapted to a man who cannot ride: if a squadron so mounted were to attempt a fence or ditch half of them would be ruptured or spilled. The seat is a marvel to any European. But M‘Clellan is nevertheless “the man on horseback” just now, and the Americans must ride in his saddle, or in anything he likes.
In the evening of my first day’s release from juleps the President held a reception or levée, and I went to the White House about nine o’clock, when the rooms were at their fullest. The company were arriving on foot, or crammed in hackney coaches, and did not affect any neatness of attire or evening dress. The doors were open: any one could walk in who chose. Private soldiers, in hodden grey and hob-nailed shoes, stood timorously chewing on the threshold of the state apartments, alarmed at the lights and gilding, or, haply, by the marabout feathers and finery of a few ladies who were in ball costume, till, assured by fellow-citizens there was nothing to fear, they plunged into the dreadful revelry. Faces familiar to me in the magazines of the town were visible in the crowd which filled the reception-rooms and the ballroom, in a small room off which a military band was stationed.
The President, in a suit of black, stood near the door of one of the rooms near the hall, and shook hands with every one of the crowd, who was then “passed” on by his secretary, if the President didn’t wish to speak to him. Mr. Lincoln has recovered his spirits, and seemed in good humour. Mrs. Lincoln, who did the honours in another room, surrounded by a few ladies, did not appear to be quite so contented. All the ministers are present except Mr. Seward, who has gone to his own state to ascertain the frame of mind of the people, and to judge for himself of the sentiments they entertain respecting the war. After walking up and down the hot and crowded rooms for an hour, and seeing and speaking to all the celebrities, I withdrew. Colonel Richardson in his official report states Colonel Miles lost the battle of Bull Run by being drunk and disorderly at a critical moment. Colonel Miles, who commanded a division of three brigades, writes to say he was not in any such state, and has demanded a court of inquiry. In a Philadelphia paper it is stated M‘Dowell was helplessly drunk during the action, and sat up all the night before drinking, smoking, and playing cards. M‘Dowell never drinks, and never has drunk, wine, spirits, malt, tea, or coffee, or smoked or used tobacco in any form, nor does he play cards; and that remark does not apply to many other Federal officers.
Drunkenness is only too common among the American volunteers, and General Butler has put it officially in orders, that “the use of intoxicating liquors prevails to an alarming extent among the officers of his command,” and has ordered the seizure of their grog, which will only be allowed on medical certificate. He announces, too, that he will not use wine or spirits, or give any to his friends, or allow any in his own quarters in future—a quaint, vigorous creature, this Massachusetts lawyer.
The outcry against Patterson has not yet subsided, though he states that, out of twenty-three regiments composing his force, nineteen refused to stay an hour over their time, which would have been up in a week, so that he would have been left in an enemy’s country with four regiments. He wisely led his patriot band back, and let them disband themselves in their own borders. Verily, these are not the men to conquer the South.
Fresh volunteers are pouring in by tens of thousands to take their places from all parts of the Union, and in three days after the battle, 80,000 men were accepted. Strange people! The regiments which have returned to New York after disgraceful conduct at Bull Run, with the stigmata of cowardice impressed by their commanding officers on the colours and souls of their corps, are actually welcomed with the utmost enthusiasm, and receive popular ovations! It becomes obvious every day that M‘Clellan does not intend to advance till he has got some semblance of an army: that will be a long time to come; but he can get a good deal of fighting out of them in a few months. Meantime the whole of the Northern states are waiting anxiously for the advance which is to take place at once, according to promises from New York. As Washington is the principal scene of interest, the South being tabooed to me, I have resolved to stay here till the army is fit to move, making little excursions to points of interest. The details in my diary are not very interesting, and I shall make but brief extracts.
August 2nd.—Mr. Olmsted visited me, in company with a young gentleman named Ritchie, son-in-law of James Wadsworth, who has been serving as honorary aide-de-camp on M‘Dowell’s staff, but is now called to higher functions. They dined at my lodgings, and we talked over Bull Run again. Mr. Ritchie did not leave Centreville till late in the evening, and slept at Fairfax Court House, where he remained till 8.30 a.m. on the morning of July 22nd, Wadsworth not stirring for two hours later. He said the panic was “horrible, disgusting, sickening,” and spoke in the harshest terms of the officers, to whom he applied a variety of epithets. Prince Napoleon has arrived.
August 3rd.—M‘Clellan orders regular parades and drills in every regiment, and insists on all orders being given by bugle note. I had a long ride through the camps, and saw some improvement in the look of the men. Coming home by Georgetown, met the Prince driving with M. Mercier, to pay a visit to the President. I am sure that the politicians are not quite well pleased with this arrival, because they do not understand it, and cannot imagine a man would come so far without a purpose. The drunken soldiers now resort to quiet lanes and courts in the suburbs. Georgetown was full of them. It is a much more respectable and old-world looking place than its vulgar, empty, overgrown, mushroom neighbour, Washington. An officer who had fallen in his men to go on duty was walking down the line this evening when his eye rested on the neck of a bottle sticking out of a man’s coat. “Thunder,” quoth he, “James, what have you got there?” “Well, I guess, captain, it’s a drop of real good Bourbon.” “Then let us have a drink,” said the captain; and thereupon proceeded to take a long pull and a strong pull, till the man cried out, “That is not fair, Captain. You won’t leave me a drop”—a remonstrance which had a proper effect, and the captain marched down his company to the bridge.
It was extremely hot when I returned, late in the evening. I asked the boy for a glass of iced water. “Dere is no ice, massa,” he said. “No ice? What’s the reason of that?” “De Sechessers, massa, block up de river, and touch off deir guns at de ice-boats.” The Confederates on the right bank of the Potomac have now established a close blockade of the river. Lieutenant Wise, of the Navy Department, admitted the fact, but said that the United States gunboats would soon sweep the rebels from the shore.
August 4th.—I had no idea that the sun could be powerful in Washington; even in India the heat is not much more oppressive than it was here to-day. There is this extenuating circumstance, however, that after some hours of such very high temperature, thunder-storms and tornadoes cool the air. I received a message from General M‘Clellan, that he was about to ride along the lines of the army across the river, and would be happy if I accompanied him; but as I had many letters to write for the next mail, I was unwillingly obliged to abandon the chance of seeing the army under such favourable circumstances. There are daily arrivals at Washington of military adventurers from all parts of the world, some of them with many extraordinary certificates and qualifications; but, as Mr. Seward says, “It is best to detain them with the hope of employment on the Northern side, lest some really good man should get among the rebels.” Garibaldians, Hungarians, Poles, officers of Turkish and other contingents, the executory devises and remainders of European revolutions and wars, surround the State department, and infest unsuspecting politicians with illegible testimonials in unknown tongues.
August 5th.—The roads from the station are crowded with troops, coming from the North as fast as the railway can carry them. It is evident, as the war fever spreads, that such politicians as Mr. Crittenden, who resist the extreme violence of the Republican party, will be stricken down. The Confiscation Bill, for the emancipation of slaves and the absorption of property belonging to rebels, has, indeed, been boldly resisted in the House of Representatives; but it passed with some trifling amendments. The journals are still busy with the affair of Bull Run, and each seems anxious to eclipse the other in the absurdity of its statements. A Philadelphia journal, for instance, states to-day that the real cause of the disaster was not a desire to retreat, but a mania to advance. In its own words, “the only drawback was the impetuous feeling to go a-head and fight.” Because one officer is accused of drunkenness a great movement is on foot to prevent the army getting any drink at all.
General M‘Clellan invited the newspaper correspondents in Washington to meet him to-day, and with their assent drew up a treaty of peace and amity, which is a curiosity in its way. In the first place, the editors are to abstain from printing anything which can give aid or comfort to the enemy, and their correspondents are to observe equal caution; in return for which complaisance, Government is to be asked to give the press opportunities for obtaining and transmitting intelligence suitable for publication, particularly touching engagements with the enemy. The Confederate privateer Sumter has forced the blockade at New Orleans, and has already been heard of destroying a number of Union vessels.
August 6th.—Prince Napoleon, anxious to visit the battle-field at Bull Run, has, to Mr. Seward’s discomfiture, applied for passes, and arrangements are being made to escort him as far as the Confederate lines. This is a recognition of the Confederates, as a belligerent power, which is by no means agreeable to the authorities. I drove down to the Senate, where the proceedings were very uninteresting, although Congress was on the eve of adjournment, and returning visited Mr. Seward, Mr. Bates, Mr. Cameron, Mr. Blair, and left cards for Mr. Brekinridge. The old woman who opened the door at the house where the latter lodged said, “Massa Brekinridge pack up all his boxes; I s’pose he not cum back here again.”
August 7th.—In the evening I went to Mr. Seward’s, who gave a reception in honour of Prince Napoleon. The Minister’s rooms were crowded and intensely hot. Lord Lyons and most of the diplomatic circle were present. The Prince wore his Order of the Bath, and bore the onslaughts of politicians, male and female, with much good humour. The contrast between the uniforms of the officers of the United States army and navy and those of the French in the Prince’s suit, by no means redounded to the credit of the military tailoring of the Americans. The Prince, to whom I was presented by Mr. Seward, asked me particularly about the roads from Alexandria to Fairfax Court-house, and from there to Centreville and Manassas. I told him I had not got quite as far as the latter place, at which he laughed. He inquired with much interest about General Beauregard, whether he spoke good French, if he seemed a man of capacity, or was the creation of an accident and of circumstances. He has been to Mount Vernon, and is struck with the air of neglect around the place. Two of his horses dropped dead from the heat on the journey, and the Prince, who was perspiring profusely in the crowded room, asked me whether the climate was not as bad as midsummer in India. His manner was perfectly easy, but he gave no encouragement to bores, nor did he court popularity by unusual affability, and he moved off long before the guests were tired of looking at him. On returning to my rooms a German gentleman named Bing—who went out with the Federal army from Washington, was taken prisoner at Bull’s Run, and carried to Richmond—came to visit me, but his account of what he saw in the dark and mysterious South was not lucid or interesting.
August 8th.—I had arranged to go with Mr. Olmsted and Mr. Ritchie to visit the hospitals, but the heat was so intolerable, we abandoned the idea till the afternoon, when we drove across the long bridge and proceeded to Alexandria. The town, which is now fully occupied by military, and is abandoned by the respectable inhabitants, has an air, owing to the absence of women and children, which tells the tale of a hostile occupation. In a large building, which had once been a school, the wounded of Bull Run were lying, not uncomfortably packed, nor unskilfully cared for, and the arrangements were, taken altogether, creditable to the skill and humanity of the surgeons. Close at hand was the church in which George Washington was wont in latter days to pray, when he drove over from Mount Vernon—further on, Marshal House, where Ellsworth was shot by the Virginian landlord, and was so speedily avenged. A strange strain of thought was suggested, by the rapid grouping of incongruous ideas, arising out of the proximity of these scenes. As one of my friends said, “I wonder what Washington would do if he were here now—and how he would act if he were summoned from that church to Marshall House or to this hospital?” The man who uttered these words was not either of my companions, but wore the shoulder-straps of a Union officer. “Stranger still,” said I, “would it be to speculate on the thoughts and actions of Napoleon in this crisis, if he were to wake up and see a Prince of his blood escorted by Federal soldiers to the spot where the troops of the Southern States had inflicted on them a signal defeat, in a land where the nephew who now sits on the throne of France has been an exile.” It is not quite certain that many Americans understand who Prince Napoleon is, for one of the troopers belonging to the escort which took him out from Alexandria declared positively he had ridden with the Emperor. The excursion is swallowed, but not well-digested. In Washington the only news to-night is, that a small privateer from Charleston, mistaking the St. Lawrence for a merchant vessel, fired into her and was at once sent to Mr. Davy Jones by a rattling broadside. Congress having adjourned, there is but little to render Washington less uninteresting than it must be in its normal state.
The truculent and overbearing spirit which arises from the uncontroverted action of democratic majorities develops itself in the North, where they have taken to burning newspaper offices and destroying all the property belonging to the proprietors and editors. These actions are a strange commentary on Mr. Seward’s declaration “that no volunteers are to be refused because they do not speak English, inasmuch as the contest for the Union is a battle of the free men of the world for the institutions of self-government.”
August 11th.—On the old Indian principle, I rode out this morning very early, and was rewarded by a breath of cold, fresh air, and by the sight, of some very disorderly regiments just turning out to parade in the camps; but I was not particularly gratified by being mistaken for Prince Napoleon by some Irish recruits, who shouted out, “Bonaparte for ever,” and gradually subsided into requests for “something to drink your Royal Highness’s health with.” As I returned I saw on the steps of General Mansfield’s quarters, a tall, soldierly-looking young man, whose breast was covered with Crimean ribbons and medals, and I recognised him as one who had called upon me a few days before, renewing our slight acquaintance before Sebastopol, where his courage was conspicuous, to ask me for information respecting the mode of obtaining a commission in the Federal army.
Towards mid-day an ebony sheet of clouds swept over the city. I went out, regardless of the threatening storm, to avail myself of the coolness to make a few visits; but soon a violent wind arose bearing clouds like those of an Indian dust-storm down the streets. The black sheet overhead became agitated like the sea, and tossed about grey clouds, which careered against each other and burst into lightning; then suddenly, without other warning, down came the rain—a perfect tornado; sheets of water flooding the streets in a moment, turning the bed into water-courses and the channels into deep rivers. I waded up the centre of Pennsylvania Avenue, past the President’s house, in a current which would have made a respectable trout stream; and on getting opposite my own door, made a rush for the porch, but forgetting the deep channel at the side, stepped into a rivulet which was literally above my hips, and I was carried off my legs, till I succeeded in catching the kerbstone, and escaped into the hall as if I had just swum across the Potomac.
On returning from my ride next morning, I took up the Baltimore paper, and saw a paragraph announcing the death of an English officer at the station; it was the poor fellow whom I saw sitting at General Mansfield’s steps yesterday. The consul was absent on a short tour rendered necessary by the failure of his health consequent on the discharge of his duties. Finding the Legation were anxious to see due care taken of the poor fellow’s remains, I left for Baltimore at a quarter to three o’clock, and proceeded to inquire into the circumstances connected with his death. He had been struck down at the station by some cerebral attack, brought on by the heat and excitement; had been carried to the police station and placed upon a bench, from which he had fallen with his head downwards, and was found in that position, with life quite extinct, by a casual visitor. My astonishment may be conceived when I learned that not only had the Coroner’s inquest sat and returned its verdict, but that the man had absolutely been buried the same morning, and so my mission was over, and I could only report what had occurred to Washington. Little value indeed has human life in this new world, to which the old gives vital power so lavishly, that it is regarded as almost worthless. I have seen more “fuss” made over an old woman killed by a cab in London than there is over half a dozen deaths with suspicion of murder attached in New Orleans or New York.
I remained in Baltimore a few days, and had an opportunity of knowing the feelings of some of the leading men in the place. It may be described in one word—intense hatred of New England and black republicans, which has been increased to mania by the stringent measures of the military dictator of the American Warsaw, the searches of private houses, domiciliary visits, arbitrary arrests, the suppression of adverse journals, the overthrow of the corporate body—all the acts, in fact, which constitute the machinery and the grievances of a tyranny. When I spoke of the brutal indifference of the police to the poor officer previously mentioned, the Baltimoreans told me the constables appointed by the Federal general were scoundrels who led the Plug Uglies in former days—the worst characters in a city not sweet or savoury in repute—but that the old police were men of very different description. The Maryland Club, where I had spent some pleasant hours, was now like a secret tribunal or the haunt of conspirators. The police entered it a few days ago, searched every room, took up the flooring, and even turned up the coals in the kitchen and the wine in the cellar. Such indignities fired the blood of the members, who are, with one exception, opposed to the attempt to coerce the South by the sword. Not one of them but could tell of some outrage perpetrated on himself or on some members of his family by the police and Federal authority. Many a delator amici was suspected but not convicted. Men sat moodily reading the papers with knitted brows, or whispering in corners, taking each other apart, and glancing suspiciously at their fellows.
There is a peculiar stamp about the Baltimore men which distinguishes them from most Americans—a style of dress, frankness of manner, and a general appearance assimilating them closely to the upper classes of Englishmen. They are fond of sport and travel, exclusive and high-spirited, and the iron rule of the Yankee is the more intolerable because they dare not resent it, and are unable to shake it off.
I returned to Washington on 15th August. Nothing changed; skirmishes along the front; M‘Clellan reviewing. The loss of General Lyon, who was killed in an action with the Confederates under Ben McCullough, at Wilson’s Creek, Springfield, Missouri, in which the Unionists were with difficulty extricated by General Sigel from a very dangerous position, after the death of their leader, is severely felt. He was one of the very few officers who combined military skill and personal bravery with political sagacity and moral firmness. The President has issued his proclamation for a day of fast and prayer, which, say the Baltimoreans, is a sign that the Yankees are in a bad way, as they would never think of praying or fasting if their cause was prospering. The stories which have been so sedulously spread, and which never will be quite discredited, of the barbarity and cruelty of the Confederates to all the wounded, ought to be set at rest by the printed statement of the eleven Union surgeons just released, who have come back from Richmond, where they were sent after their capture on the field of Bull Run, with the most distinct testimony that the Confederates treated their prisoners with humanity. Who are the miscreants who tried to make the evil feeling, quite strong enough as it is, perfectly fiendish, by asserting the rebels burned the wounded in hospitals, and bayoneted them as they lay helpless on the field?
The pecuniary difficulties of the Government have been alleviated by the bankers of New York, Philadelphia, and Boston, who have agreed to lend them fifty millions of dollars, on condition that they receive the Treasury notes which Mr. Chase is about to issue. As we read the papers and hear the news, it is difficult to believe that the foundations of society are not melting away in the heat of this conflict. Thus, a Federal judge, named Garrison, who has issued his writ of habeas corpus for certain prisoners in Fort Lafayette, being quietly snuffed out by the commandant, Colonel Burke, desires to lead an army against the fort and have a little civil war of his own in New York. He applies to the commander of the county militia, who informs Garrison he can’t get into the fort as there was no artillery strong enough to breach the walls, and that it would require 10,000 men to invest it, whereas only 1400 militiamen were available. What a farceur Judge Garrison must be! In addition to the gutting and burning of newspaper offices, and the exercitation of the editors on rails, the republican grand juries have taken to indicting the democratic journals, and Fremont’s provost marshal in St. Louis has, proprio motu, suppressed those which he considers disaffected. A mutiny which broke out in the Scotch Regiment 79th N. Y. has been followed by another in the 2nd Maine Regiment, and a display of cannon and of cavalry was required to induce them to allow the ringleaders to be arrested. The President was greatly alarmed, but M‘Clellan acted with some vigour, and the refractory volunteers are to be sent off to a pleasant station called the “Dry Tortugas” to work on the fortifications.
Mr. Seward, with whom I dined and spent the evening on 16th August, has been much reassured and comforted by the demonstrations of readiness on the part of the people to continue the contest, and of confidence in the cause among the moneyed men of the great cities. “All we want is time to develop our strength. We have been blamed for not making greater use of our navy and extending it at once. It was our first duty to provide for the safety of our capital. Besides, a man will generally pay little attention to agencies he does not understand. None of us knew anything about a navy. I doubt if the President ever saw anything more formidable than a river steamboat, and I don’t think Mr. Welles, the Secretary of the Navy, knew the stem from the stern of a ship. Of the whole Cabinet, I am the only member who ever was fairly at sea or crossed the Atlantic. Some of us never even saw it. No wonder we did not understand the necessity for creating a navy at once. Soon, however, our Government will be able to dispose of a respectable marine, and when our army is ready to move, co-operating with the fleet, the days of the rebellion are numbered.”
“When will that be, Mr. Secretary?”
“Soon; very soon, I hope. We can, however, bear delays. The rebels will be ruined by it.”