The Boy Spy / A substantially true record of secret service during the war of the rebellion, a correct account of events witnessed by a soldier

by Joseph Orton Kerbey

One other important factor in my favor is, that, after the success of Bull Run, the Southern people generally, and especially those about Richmond and Manassas, were so enthused as it were by the recent success that they became, for the time being, quite careless and were not disposed to closely scrutinize strangers who happened to be among them.

I realized these facts at the time, and profited by it. I began to feel so secure myself that I became quite careless about my own safety, and, as I became stronger each day, I spent pretty much all of my time either on one of the benches in the Capitol Square or leisurely walking over the streets of the city.

It became a daily custom with me to secure early a certain seat in the Capitol grounds, from which I could look directly into the front windows of the room which Jeff Davis occupied for his executive office. I had selected this bench because, from its location, which, by the way, to be exact, I will state was near the statue of Henry Clay, I could observe every person that either went into or out of the large hall door down stairs, which led to Mr. Davis' apartments. I was most anxious to get a glimpse of Mr. Davis, whom I had last seen at the Exchange Hotel at Montgomery during the bombardment of Fort Sumter. From my position in the grounds I could not, of course, see into the room in which I knew Mr. Davis was located, but I could imagine, from the number of people who were constantly going and coming, that he must have been kept pretty busy entertaining them. I did not find it advisable at that time to thrust myself upon his attention. It was only after several long waits and disappointments that I was one evening gratified to see my old Montgomery friend come out of the hallway in company with the present distinguished Senator from Texas, Hon. John H. Regan. They stood together on the steps a few minutes engaged in conversation, when Mr. Davis, with a courteous bow, turned to his carriage, which was waiting at the curb, the door was shut with a bang, the driver turned his horses, and in a moment more they had disappeared around the corner of the square, as they drove up the hill in the direction of the President's mansion.

It was generally understood by my refugee associates that, as soon as I was sufficiently recuperated, I would unite with the other Maryland refugees in the formation of a Confederate company of volunteers. They had taken me in charge, as it were, and, as they had voluntarily guaranteed my hotel expenses, I could do no less than to tacitly accept the situation. Even at that early day there was considerable rivalry in the matter of securing recruits for the newly-forming organizations of the Rebel Army. One reason of this was that, in their army as it was in ours, at the first of the war the commissions were generally given to those persons who were most active in securing the necessary recruits to fill out a company's quota. While these two Maryland gentlemen were quite kind to me and had personally helped me through my sickness, I saw that their object was not altogether disinterested. In vouching for my expenses they were perfectly safe themselves, as it was understood that I should secure the very best bounty that was being paid, and out of this fund it was known I should be able to pay all my sick bills. So you will see how it came about that, while my two guardians were busy most of the day in skirmishing about for their recruits, as well as looking out for their own prospects for commissions, I was indulged in every thing that they could at all assist me in, and was in general terms given the "Freedom of the City."

It became a favorite walk with me on pleasant afternoons to wander out to the beautiful Hollywood Cemetery, one of the most lovely spots in all Virginia. Hollywood has been so fully described, even before and after the war, that I need not attempt it here. With me Hollywood had a peculiar fascination during my first visit to Richmond, during that fall of 1861—the "melancholy months of that year." I found myself out there frequently, nearly always seeking out the one resting place, which was beautifully situated on the top of the hill, under a grove of large forest trees, close by the tomb of ex-President Monroe. The view from this point was superb. Directly underneath the hill, which overhung the river like a precipice, were the great falls of the James river, the water of which, coming from the Blue Mountains of Virginia, was splashing over the thousands of immense rocks standing up from the bed of the river, making a wildly-beautiful picture, extending for a mile or two up and down the river. Right beneath the cemetery, but out of sight of a rambler in the grounds, the railroad bed had been chiseled out of the hill-side rocks. Trains could continually be heard rolling and whistling along, which I knew went near my friends in a few hours at Manassas and Fredericksburg. Near this, on the water's edge, were located the immense Tredegar Iron Works, upon which the Confederate Government depended almost entirely for their supply of manufactured iron, and I believe they were also turning out at the time some large cannon for their fortifications and ships. I remember that I was impressed at the time, from overhearing a debate in the Confederate Congress, that the loss or destruction of the Tredegar Works early in the war would have been one of the most terrible blows that could have been inflicted upon their cause, and I had embodied this statement in one of my "dispatches."

One evening a brass band paraded the streets, gathering up quite a crowd of followers. Always anxious to see everything that was going on, and a lover of brass music, I "joined in" with the crowd and marched along with the band. We halted in front of the largest hotel in Richmond at that time—the Spottsword—since burned down—but then located on Main street. On inquiring, I learned that the excitement was occasioned by the recent arrival in Richmond of the Hon. John C. Breckinridge, recently the Vice-President of the United States and Pro-Slavery candidate for President. It will be remembered that there had been for quite a long time considerable doubt or uncertainty as to which side of the fence Mr. Breckinridge would eventually jump. He had remained in Washington City up to a very short time previous to his arrival in Richmond. One of the facts brought out during his speech that night, in answer to the serenade, was, that he was still a member of the United States Senate, he having so arranged it that his resignation would not take effect until he was safe inside of the Confederacy. I remember this portion of his talk very well, because at the time it impressed me as being very mean for a man of his standing, who had been so highly honored and trusted by his Government, to pretend so long to be neutral, yet knowing all the time in his heart of the purpose to gather information and then desert and betray his Government. I felt in my heart then that the numerous Southern gentlemen who held official positions and violated their oaths that they might betray their Governments, were cowardly spies whose methods were to be execrated, and anything I could do to frustrate them would be honorable in comparison with their service.

Another point of interest is the "old stone house," which is situated on Main street within a square of the Libby Warehouses. This old stone building, with the curled oak shingles on the roof, was General Washington's headquarters.

We will pass the Colonial and Indian periods, the wars of 1776, 1812, 1846-9 with this one sentence, and hasten up the Main street about a mile to headquarters of the Commander-in-Chief of the war of 1861-65.

From the windows of my room I had a close view of the City Hall building directly opposite, which fronted on Broad street.

One morning I observed an unusual excitement on the street in front of the City Hall. They were apparently preparing for what we would have thought up North was to be a bonfire. Of course I became an interested looker-on, but was almost afraid to ask any questions lest I should hear some bad news. I feared that the Rebels were about to celebrate some victory over our armies, when I saw them pile in the middle of the street a great heap of kindling wood.