Passing beyond the Confederate Lines—First Contact with Unionists—Arrested on Suspicion—Handed Over to General Kelly-A Clean Bill of Health—“The Only Federal Officers I Have Come in Contact with Were Gentlemen”—By Stage to Johnstown—To Philadelphia by That Admirable and Ingenious Yankee Notion, the Sleeping Car—The Luxury of New York—Northern Overconfidence—Draft Riots—I Board the S.S. China
9th July (Thursday)—I left Hagerstown at 8 A.M., in my conductor’s good buggy, after saying farewell to Lawley, the Austrian, and the numerous Confederate officers who came to see me off, and wish me good luck. We passed the Confederate advanced post at about two miles from Hagerstown, and were allowed to pass on the production of General Lee’s authority.
I was now fairly launched beyond the Confederate lines for the first time since I had been in America. Immediately afterwards we began to be asked all sorts of inquisitive questions about the Rebels, which I left to my driver to answer. It became perfectly evident that this narrow strip of Maryland is entirely Unionist.
At about 12 o’clock we reached the top of a high hill, and halted to bait our horse at an inn called Fairview. No sooner had we descended from the buggy than about twenty rampageous Unionists appeared, who told us they had come up to get a good view of the big fight in which the G—d d—d Rebels were to be all captured, or drowned in the Potomac.
My appearance evidently did not please them from the very first. With alarm I observed them talking to one another, and pointing at me. At length a particularly truculent-looking individual with an enormous mustache approached me, and fixing his eyes long and steadfastly upon my trousers, he remarked, in the surliest possible tones, “Them breeches is a d—d bad color.” This he said in allusion, not to their dirty state, but to the fact of their being gray, the Rebel color.
I replied to this very disagreeable assertion in as conciliating a way as I possibly could; and in answer to his question as to who I was, I said that I was an English traveler. He then said that his wife was an English lady from Preston. I next expressed my pride of being a countryman of his wife’s. He then told me in tones that admitted of no contradiction, that Preston was just forty-five miles east of London; and he afterwards launched into torrents of invectives against the Rebels, who had run him out of Virginia; and he stated his intention of killing them in great numbers to gratify his taste.
With some difficulty I prevailed upon him and his rabid brethren to drink, which pacified them slightly for a time; but when the horse was brought out to be harnessed, it became evident I was not to be allowed to proceed without a row. I therefore addressed the crowd, and asked them quietly who among them wished to detain me. I told them at the same time, that I would not answer any questions put by those who were not persons in authority, but that I should be most happy to explain myself to any officer of the United States Army.
At length they allowed me to proceed, on the understanding that my buggy driver should hand me over to General Kelly, at Hancock. The driver was provided with a letter for the general, in which I afterwards discovered that I was denounced as a spy, and “handed over to the General to be dealt with as justice to our cause demands.” We were then allowed to start, the driver being threatened with condign vengeance if he let me escape.
After we had proceeded about six miles we fell in with some Yankee cavalry, by whom we were immediately captured, and the responsibility of my custody was thus removed from my conductor’s shoulders. A cavalry soldier was put in charge of us, and we passed through the numerous Yankee outposts under the title of “Prisoners.”
The hills near Hancock were white with Yankee tents, and there were, I believe, from 8000 to 10,000 Federals there. I did not think much of the appearance of the Northern troops. They are certainly dressed in proper uniform, but their clothes are badly fitted, and they are often round-shouldered, dirty, and slovenly in appearance; in fact, bad imitations of soldiers. Now, the Confederate has no ambition to imitate the regular soldier at all. He looks the genuine Rebel; but in spite of his bare feet, his ragged clothes, his old rug, and toothbrush stuck like a rose in his buttonhole,* he has a sort of devil-may-care, reckless, self-confident look, which is decidedly taking.
At 5 P.M. we drove up in front of the door of General Kelly’s quarters, and to my immense relief I soon discovered that he was a gentleman.1 I then explained to him the whole truth, concealing nothing. I said I was a British officer on leave of absence, traveling for my own instruction; that I had been all the way to Mexico, and entered the Southern States by the Rio Grande, for the express purpose of not breaking any legally established blockade. I told him I had visited all the Southern armies in Mississippi, Tennessee, Charleston, and Virginia, and seen the late campaign as General Longstreet’s guest, but had in no way entered the Confederate service.
I also gave him my word that I had not got in my possession any letters, either public or private, from any person in the South to any person anywhere else. I showed him my British passport and General Lee’s pass as a British officer; and I explained that my only object in coming North was to return to England in time for the expiration of my leave; and I ended by expressing a hope that he would make my detention as short as possible.
After considering a short time, he said that he would certainly allow me to go on, but that he could not allow my driver to go back. I felt immensely relieved at the decision, but the countenance of my companion lengthened considerably. It was, however, settled that he should take me on to Cumberland, and General Kelly good-naturedly promised to do what he could for him on his return.
General Kelly then asked me in an off-hand manner whether all General Lee’s army was at Hagerstown; but I replied, laughing, “You of course understand, General, that, having got that pass from General Lee, I am bound by every principle of honor not to give you any information which can be of advantage to you.” He laughed and promised not to ask me any more questions of that sort. He then sent his aid-de-camp with me to the provost marshal, who immediately gave me a pass for Cumberland.
On my return to the General’s, I discovered the perfidious driver (that zealous Southerner a few hours previous) hard at work communicating to General Kelly all he knew, and a great deal more besides; but, from what I heard, I don’t think his information was very valuable.
I was treated by General Kelly and all his officers with the greatest good-nature and courtesy, although I had certainly come among them under circumstances suspicious, to say the least. I felt quite sorry that they should be opposed to my Southern friends, and I regretted still more that they should be obliged to serve with or under a Butler, a Milroy, or even a Hooker. I took leave of them at six o’clock; and I can truly say that the only Federal officers I have ever come in contact with were gentlemen.
We had got four miles beyond Hancock, when the tire of one of our wheels came off, and we had to stop for a night at a farmhouse. I had supper with the farmer and his laborers, who had just come in from the fields, and the supper was much superior to that which can be procured at the first hotel at Richmond. All were violent Unionists, and perfectly under the impression that the Rebels were totally demoralized, and about to lay down their arms. Of course I held by tongue, and gave no one reason to suppose that I had ever been in Rebeldom.
10th July (Friday)—The drive from Hancock to Cumberland is a very mountainous forty-four miles—total distance from Hagerstown, sixty-six miles. We met with no further adventure on the road, although the people were very inquisitive, but I never opened my mouth. One woman in particular, who kept a toll bar, thrust her ugly old head out of an upper window, and yelled out, “Air they a-fixin’ for another battle out there?” jerking her head in the direction of Hagerstown. The driver replied that, although the bunch of Rebels there was pretty big, yet he could not answer for their fixing arrangements, which he afterwards explained to me meant digging fortifications.
We arrived at Cumberland at 7 P.M. This is a great coal place, and a few weeks ago it was touched up by “Imboden,” who burnt a lot of coal barges, which has rendered the people rabid against the Rebs. I started by stage for Johnstown at 8:30 P.M.
11th July (Saturday)—I hope I may never for my sins be again condemned to travel for thirty hours in an American stage on a used-up plank road. We changed carriages at Somerset. All my fellow travelers were of course violent Unionists, and invariably spoke of my late friends as Rebels or Rebs. They had all got into their heads that their Potomac army, not having been thoroughly thrashed, as it always has been hitherto, had achieved a tremendous victory; and that its new chief, General Meade, who in reality was driven into a strong position, which he had sense enough to stick to, is a wonderful strategist.
They all hope that the remnants of Lee’s army will not be allowed to ESCAPE over the Potomac; whereas, when I left the army two days ago, no man in it had a thought of escaping over the Potomac, and certainly General Meade was not in a position to attempt to prevent the passage, if crossing had become necessary.2
I reached Johnstown on the Pennsylvania Railway at 6 P.M., and found that town in a great state of excitement in consequence of the review of two militia companies. These were receiving garlands from the fair ladies of Johnstown in gratitude for their daring conduct in turning out to resist Lee’s invasion. Most of the men seemed to be respectable mechanics, not at all adapted for an early interview with the Rebels. The garlands supplied were as big and apparently as substantial as a ship’s life buoys, and the recipients looked particularly helpless after they had got them. Heaven help those Pennsylvanian braves if a score of Hood’s Texans had caught sight of them!
Left Johnstown by train at 7:30 P.M., and by paying half a dollar, I secured a berth in a sleeping car—a most admirable and ingenious Yankee notion.
12th July (Sunday)—The Pittsburgh and Philadelphia Railway is, I believe, accounted one of the best in America, which did not prevent my spending eight hours last night off the line; but, being asleep at the time, I was unaware of the circumstance. Instead of arriving at Philadelphia at 6 A.M., we did not get there till 3 P.M. Passed Harrisburg at 9 A.M. It was full of Yankee soldiers, and has evidently not recovered from the excitement consequent upon the late invasion, one effect of which has been to prevent the cutting of the crops by the calling out of the militia.
At Philadelphia I saw a train containing one hundred and fifty Confederate prisoners, who were being stared at by a large number of the beau monde of Philadelphia. I mingled with the crowd which was chaffing them. Most of the people were good-natured, but I heard one suggestion to the effect that they should be taken to the river, “and every mother’s son of them drowned there.”
I arrived at New York at 10 P.M., and drove to the Fifth Avenue Hotel.3
13th July (Monday)—The luxury and comfort of New York and Philadelphia strike one as extraordinary after having lately come from Charleston and Richmond. The greenbacks seem to be nearly as good as gold. The streets are as full as possible of well-dressed people, and are crowded with able-bodied civilians capable of bearing arms, who have evidently no intention of doing so. They apparently don’t feel the war at all here; and until there is a grand smash with their money, or some other catastrophe to make them feel it, I can easily imagine that they will not be anxious to make peace.
I walked the whole distance of Broadway to the consul’s house, and nothing could exceed the apparent prosperity. The street was covered with banners and placards inviting people to enlist in various high-sounding regiments. Bounties of $550 were offered, and huge pictures hung across the street, on which numbers of ragged Graybacks,** terror depicted on their features, were being pursued by the Federals.
On returning to the Fifth Avenue, I found all the shopkeepers beginning to close their stores, and I perceived by degrees that there was great alarm about the resistance to the draft which was going on this morning. On reaching the hotel I perceived a whole block of buildings on fire close by. Engines were present, but were not allowed to play by the crowd.
In the hotel itself, universal consternation prevailed, and an attack by the mob had been threatened. I walked about in the neighborhood, and saw a company of soldiers on the march, who were being jeered at and hooted by small boys, and I saw a Negro pursued by the crowd take refuge with the military. He was followed by loud cries of “Down with the b——y nigger! Kill all niggers!” &c.
Never having been in New York before, and being totally ignorant of the state of feeling with regard to Negroes, I inquired of a bystander what the Negroes had done that they should want to kill them? He replied civilly enough—“Oh sir, they hate them here; they are the innocent cause of all these troubles.”5
Shortly afterwards, I saw a troop of citizen cavalry come up. The troopers were very gorgeously attired, but evidently experienced so much difficulty in sitting their horses, that they were more likely to excite laughter than any other emotion.
14th July (Tuesday)—At breakfast this morning two Irish waiters, seeing I was a Britisher, came up to me one after another, and whispered at intervals in hoarse Hibernian accents—“It’s disgraceful, sir. I’ve been drafted, sir. I’m a Briton. I love my country. I love the Union Jack, sir.” I suggested an interview with Mr. Archibald, but neither of them seemed to care about going to the counsel just yet. These rascals have probably been hard at work for years, voting as free and enlightened American citizens, and abusing England to their hearts’ content.
I heard everyone talking of the total demoralization of the Rebels as a certain fact, and all seemed to anticipate their approaching destruction. All this sounded very absurd to me, who had left Lee’s army four days previously as full of fight as ever—much stronger in numbers, and ten times more efficient in every military point of view, than it was when it crossed the Potomac to invade Maryland a year ago.
In its own opinion, Lee’s army has not lost any of its prestige at the battle of Gettysburg, in which it most gallantly stormed strong intrenchments defended by the whole army of the Potomac, which never ventured outside its works, or approached in force within half a mile of the Confederate artillery.
The result of the battle of Gettysburg, together with the fall of Vicksburg and Port Hudson, seems to have turned everybody’s head completely, and has deluded them with the idea of the speedy and complete subjugation of the South. I was filled with astonishment to hear the people speaking in this confident manner, when one of their most prosperous states had been so recently laid under contribution as far as Harrisburg; and Washington, their capital itself, having just been saved by a fortunate turn of luck. Four fifths of the Pennsylvanian spoil had safely crossed the Potomac before I left Hagerstown.
The consternation in the streets seemed to be on the increase. Fires were going on in all directions, and the streets were being patrolled by large bodies of police followed by special constables, the latter bearing truncheons, but not looking very happy. I heard a British captain making a deposition before the consul, to the effect that the mob had got on board his vessel, and cruelly beaten his colored crew. As no British man-of-war was present, the French Admiral was appealed to, who at once requested that all British ships with colored crews might be anchored under the guns of his frigate.
The reports of outrages, hangings, and murder were now most alarming, the terror and anxiety were universal. All shops were shut: all carriages and omnibuses had ceased running. No colored man or woman was visible or safe in the streets, or even in his own dwelling. Telegraphs were cut, and railroad tracks torn up. The draft was suspended, and the mob evidently had the upper hand.
The people who can’t pay $300 naturally hate being forced to fight in order to liberate the very race who they are most anxious should be slaves. It is their direct interest not only that all slaves should remain slaves, but that the free Northern Negroes who compete with them for labor should be sent to the South also.
15th July (Wednesday)—The hotel this morning was occupied by military, or rather by creatures in uniform. One of the sentries stopped me; and on my remonstrating to his officer, the latter blew up to the sentry, and said, “You are only to stop persons in military dress—don’t you know what military dress is?” “No,” responded this efficient sentry—and I left the pair discussing the definition of a soldier. I had the greatest difficulty in getting a conveyance down to the water. I saw a stone barricade in the distance, and heard firing going on—and I was not at all sorry to find myself on board the China.
* This tooth-brush in the buttonhole is a very common custom, and has a most quaint effect.
** The Northerners call the Southerners “Graybacks,” just as the latter call the former “Bluebellies,” on account of the color of their dress.4