Acting on this determination, she set out this morning for the Archbishop's residence, but on arriving was told that he was at the residence of Vicar-general Starrs, in Mulberry Street. Hastening thither, she asked for an interview. Her request was denied, when she repeated it; and though again refused, would not be repelled, and sent word that her business was urgent, and that she would not detain him ten minutes. The Archbishop finally consented to see her. As she entered the library, her manner and bearing—both said to be remarkably impressive—arrested the attention of the prelate. Without any explanation or apology, she told him at once her errand—that it was one of mercy and charity. She had been educated in a Roman Catholic convent herself, in which her father was a professor, and she urged him, in the name of God, to get on horseback, and go forth into the streets and quell the excitement of his flock. She told him he must, like Mark Antony, address the people; and in rescuing this great metropolis from vandalism, would become a second Constantine, an immortal hero. It was his duty, she boldly declared; and though she did not profess to be a Jeanne d'Arc or Madame Roland, but a plain woman of the present day, she would ride fearlessly by his side, and if he were threatened, would place her body between him and danger, and take the blow aimed at him. The cautious and crafty prelate was almost carried away by the impassioned and dramatic force of this woman, but he told her it would be presumption in him to do so; in fact, impossible, as he was so crippled with rheumatism and gout, that he could not walk. She then asked him to call the crowd, and address them from the balcony of his house. He replied that he was just then busy in writing an answer to an attack on him in the Tribune. She assured him that such a controversy was worse than useless—that another and higher duty rested on him. She pressed him with such importunity and enthusiasm, that he finally consented; but as a last effort to get rid of her, said he feared the military would interfere and attack the mob. She assured him they would not, and hurried off to the St. Nicholas to see Governor Seymour about it. She found the ante-room filled with officials and other personages on important business, waiting their turn to be admitted. But her determined, earnest manner so impressed every one with the importance of her mission, that precedence was granted her, and she found herself at once beside the astonished Governor. Without any preliminaries, she told him she had just come from the head of the church, and wanted his excellency to visit him immediately. No business was of such vital importance as this. The self-possessed Governor coolly replied that he should be glad to see the Archbishop, but business was too pressing to allow him to be absent even a half an hour from his duties. She hastened back to Archbishop Hughes, and prevailed on him to write a note to Governor Seymour, asking him to call and see him, as he was unable to get out. Fortified with this, she now took a priest with her, and providing herself with a carriage, returned to head-quarters, and absolutely forced, by her energy and determination and persuasive manner, the Governor to leave his business, and go to the Archbishop's. The invitation to the Irish to meet him was the result of this interview.
Why Archbishop Hughes took no more active part than he did in quelling this insurrection, when there was scarcely a man in it except members of his own flock, seems strange. It is true he had published an address to them, urging them to keep the peace; but it was prefaced by a long, undignified, and angry attack on Mr. Greeley, of the Tribune, and showed that he was in sympathy with the rioters, at least in their condemnation of the draft. The pretence that it would be unsafe for him to pass through the streets, is absurd; for on three different occasions common priests had mingled with the mob, not only with impunity, but with good effect. He could not, therefore, have thought himself to be in any great danger. One thing, at any rate, is evident: had an Irish mob threatened to burn down a Roman Catholic church, or a Roman Catholic orphan asylum, or threatened any of the institutions or property of the Roman Church, he would have shown no such backwardness or fear. The mob would have been confronted with the most terrible anathemas of the church, and those lawless bands quailed before the maledictions of the representative of "God's vicegerent on earth." It is unjust to suppose that he wished this plunder and robbery to continue, or desired to see Irishmen shot down in the streets; it must, therefore, be left to conjecture, why he could not be moved to any interference except by outside pressure, and then show so much lukewarmness in his manner—in fact, condemning their opponents almost as much as themselves.
The excitement consequent on the draft, exhibited in outbreaks in various parts of the country, and in the vicinity of New York, was increased by the reports of violence and fighting in the latter city. In Troy there was a riot, and the mob, imitating the insane conduct of the rioters in New York, proceeded to attack an African church. But a priest, more bold or more patriotic than Archbishop Hughes, interfered and saved it. That the latter, armed with nothing but the crucifix, could have effected as much as the police and military together, there can be but little doubt. This open and decided sympathy with law and order, and bitter anathemas against the vandals who sought the destruction of the city, were the more demanded, as such a large proportion of the police force were Roman Catholics, and in their noble devotion to duty, even to shooting down their own countrymen and men of a similar faith, deserved this encouragement from the head of the church.
{Illustration: BURNING OF THE SECOND AVENUE ARMORY.}
CHAPTER XIX. — CLOSING SCENES.
Tranquil Morning.—Proclamation of the Mayor.—Mob cowed.—Plunderers afraid of Detection.—Dirty Cellars crowded with rich Apparel, Furniture, and Works of Art.—Archbishop Hughes' Address.—Useless Efforts.—Acton's Forty-eight Hours without Sleep over.—Change in Military Commanders in the City.—General Brown relinquishes his Command.—True Words.—Noble Character and Behavior of the Troops and Police.—General Brown's invaluable Services.
This week of horrors—a week unparalleled in the history of New York—was drawing to a close. It had been one of terror and dismay to the inhabitants, who thought only of the immediate effects on themselves of the triumph of the mob. A great city laid in ashes, given, up to robbers and cut-throats, is at any time a terrible spectacle; but New York in ruins at this time was a republic gone—a nation, uncrowned and left desolate; but the battle, both for the nation and city, had been nobly fought and won; and Friday, the fifth day of this protracted struggle, dawned bright and tranquil. The storm of the night before had passed away, and the streets, thoroughly washed by the drenching rain, stretched clean and quiet between the long rows of buildings, emblematic of the tranquillity that had returned to the city.
The cars were seen once more speeding down to the business centres, loaded with passengers. Broadway shook to the rumbling of the heavy omnibuses; shutters were taken down, and the windows again shone with their rich adornments. The anxious look had departed from the pedestrians, for the heavy cloud, so full of present woe and future forebodings, had lifted and passed away.