CHAPTER XIII
THE CIVIL WAR AND LIFE IN MARYLAND
As the time passed I became somewhat anxious over the delay in Mr. Gouverneur's return to this country. It seems, however, that, with neither of us knowing it, we were upon the sea at the same time. His homeward voyage was made by the way of the Isthmus of Suez and Marseilles. For a while it seemed difficult for either of us to realize that we were in our own country once more, as the Civil War had turned everything and everybody topsy turvy. When we left the country, party animosities were pitched to a high key, but the possibility of a gigantic civil war as a solution of political problems would have been regarded as preposterous. On our return, however, the country was wild with excitement over an armed struggle, the eventual magnitude of which no one had yet dreamed of. Newly equipped regiments were constantly passing in our vicinity for the seat of war, the national ensign and other emblems of loyalty were displayed on every hand and a martial spirit pervaded the very atmosphere. The war was the one important topic of conversation at homes, in the streets and in places of business. The passions of the people were so thoroughly aroused that they were frequently expressed in severe denunciation of any who presumed to entertain conservative views of the situation of affairs and who still hoped for conciliation and peace. Suspicions were often created by trivial but well-intended acts or remarks that were susceptible of a double construction, and loyal sentiment was often so pronounced in its denunciation of the South that no word or remark could be tolerated that by any possibility could be construed as a criticism of the administration, a disapproval of the war or of any detail relating to its conduct. For example, not long after our return from China, while Mr. Gouverneur and I were visiting my sister, Mrs. Eames, in Washington, we were watching one day a newly equipped regiment from Vermont while passing her residence en route for the seat of war, when Mr. Eames remarked, "Gouverneur, isn't that a fine regiment?" My husband, who then and always thereafter was thoroughly loyal to the cause of the Union, but whose military training had made him familiar with the precise tactics and evolutions of regular troops, replied: "They need training," when Mr. Eames, with much warmth of feeling, exclaimed: "You are a secessionist, sir!"
That, however, represented but a mild state of feeling compared with that sometimes entertained between those who were loyal to the Union and others who sympathized with the South. I recall one conspicuous instance where such antagonistic views resulted in personal animosity that severed tender personal relations of long standing. When I left the country a lifelong intimacy had existed between Mrs. Charles Vanden Heuvel, a granddaughter of Robert Morris, the great financier of the Revolution, and Mrs. George Gibbs, granddaughter of the Connecticut statesman, Oliver Wolcott; but after the outbreak of the war these two elderly women differed so radically in their views concerning the conflict that, for a period, their personal relations were severed. The spirit of toleration was so utterly lacking in both the North and the South that even those allied by ties of blood were estranged, and a spirit of bitter resentment and crimination everywhere prevailed. This state of feeling, under the circumstances, was doubtless inevitable, but it emphasized better than almost anything else, except bloodshed itself, the truth of General Sherman's declaration that "War is Hell!"
The animosities engendered by the war ruptured family ties and familiar associations in Maryland much more completely than in the North. One of the Needwood families was that of Outerbridge Horsey, who was a pronounced Southern sympathizer, while not far away at Mount O'Donnell, a superb old estate, lived General Columbus O'Donnell, who ardently espoused the cause of the Union. Mr. Horsey had a son born just after a Southern victory whom he named Robert Victor Lee; but later, after a Confederate defeat, General O'Donnell suggested that the name be changed to Robert "Skedaddle" Lee, whereupon Mr. Horsey retorted that he thought the name of a grandchild of General O'Donnell might appropriately be changed to George "Retreat" McClellan. Of Charles Oliver O'Donnell, one of the General's sons, I retain the pleasantest memories. He was a gentleman of attractive personality and a genial nature. His first wife was Lucinia de Sodré, daughter of Luis Pereira de Sodré, who at the time of his daughter's marriage was the Brazilian Minister in Washington. Mr. O'Donnell's second wife was Miss Helen Sophia Carroll of Baltimore.
After remaining a few months in New York and a shorter period in Washington, we visited Mr. Gouverneur's father, who was still living at Needwood in Maryland. Here we found a radical change of scene, for we were now in close proximity to the seat of war. On our journey southward we were somewhat delayed by the rumor that General Lee was about to enter Maryland, rendering it necessary for us to procure passes, which was accomplished through the courtesy of General Edward Shriver, a native of Frederick, who held at the time an important official position in Baltimore. We had thought when we arrived in New York that public feeling ran high, but it was mild compared with our observations and experiences in Maryland, and we never dared to predict what a day would bring forth. Mr. Gouverneur's father was a pronounced Northern man, but his wife's relatives, as well as most of his neighbors, sympathized with the South. Soon after the outbreak of the war, while we were yet in China, and at the period when Maryland was wavering between the North and South, and to anxious spectators secession seemed almost inevitable, my father-in-law and ex-Governor Philip F. Thomas left one morning on a hurried trip to Frederick, where the State Legislature was convened in special session, instead of at the State Capitol in Annapolis, which was then occupied by Union troops. A report had reached them that the legislature would probably declare for secession and call a convention to take into consideration an ordinance for the accomplishment of that end, and they desired to exert whatever influence they could command to retain the State in the Union. The national administration, however, was equally alert, and a measure much more effective, in this instance, than moral suasion was employed to defeat the adherents of the Southern cause. General John A. Dix arrested ten members-elect of the State Legislature, the mayor of Baltimore, a congressman and two editors; while in Frederick, General Nathaniel P. Banks took into custody nine other members who, under the suspension of the writ of habeas corpus, were confined for a time either in Fort Lafayette in New York or in Fort Warren in Boston. I well remember that one of these was Severn Teackle Wallis of Baltimore, a lawyer of exceptional prominence and ability and a universal favorite in society.
Shortly before the battle of Gettysburg, when Frederick County was occupied by the Union troops, many of the officers dined at Needwood. A little later, although over forty miles away, we knew that a great battle was in progress, as we distinctly heard the steady firing of heavy artillery. The news of the great Union victory finally reached us and I listened in silent sympathy to the rejoicing of the Unionists and heard the lamentations of the sympathizers with the Southern cause.
After the battle of Gettysburg, the disorganized Southern army came straggling along through Maryland, their objective point being Harper's Ferry; while General George G. Meade with his troops was on South Mountain, within sight of the former locality. During the night there arose one of the most violent storms I have ever known, and we naturally supposed that it would render the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers, which meet at Harper's Ferry, absolutely impassable, as all bridges had, of course, been destroyed. The storm raged with such fury that we were actually afraid to go to bed. Mr. Gouverneur and I were elated because we believed it meant the end of hostilities and the Union restored; for in our opinion, it seemed impossible for human beings to successfully contend with the elements and at the same time to live under the fire of Meade's guns. It would therefore be difficult to describe our surprise when we learned the next morning that Lee's troops had safely crossed the Potomac and were again on the soil of Virginia.
Several days later Mr. Gouverneur and I were driving on the national turnpike, commonly called the Hagerstown pike, when we encountered the Union army. Our destination was the country seat of ex-Governor Philip F. Thomas, two miles from Frederick and within the shadow of Catoctin mountain, which we were contemplating as a future home. Our travel was not impeded except by an occasional inquiry in regard to our political sentiments, as the Northern army was prone to believe that every sojourner in Maryland at this time was an adherent of the South. This national turnpike, which has been and still is a well-traveled thoroughfare, was constructed at a cost of several million dollars and was generally regarded as an extravagance of John Adams' administration. In speaking of this road, which begins at Georgetown, D.C., and crosses the mountains into Kentucky, Henry Clay once remarked that no one need go abroad for scenery after viewing "the Valley of the Shenandoah, Harper's Ferry, and the still more beautiful Middletown valley."