July 3rd.—Up early, breakfasted at five a.m., and left my hospitable host’s roof, on my way to Washington. The ferry-boat, which is a long way off, starts for the train at seven o’clock; and so bad are the roads, I nearly missed it. On hurrying to secure my place in the train, I said to one of the railway officers, “If you see a coloured man in a cloth cap and dark coat with metal buttons, will you be good enough, sir, to tell him I’m in this carriage.” “Why so, sir?” “He is my servant.” “Servant,” he repeated; “your servant! I presume you’re a Britisher; and if he’s your servant, I think you may as well let him find you.” And so he walked away, delighted with his cleverness, his civility, and his rebuke of an aristocrat.
Nearly four months since I went by this road to Washington. The change which has since occurred is beyond belief. Men were then speaking of place under Government, of compromises between North and South, and of peace; now they only talk of war and battle. Ever since I came out of the South, and could see the newspapers, I have been struck by the easiness of the American people, by their excessive credulity. Whether they wish it or not, they are certainly deceived. Not a day has passed without the announcement that the Federal troops were moving, and that “a great battle was expected” by somebody unknown, at some place or other.
I could not help observing the arrogant tone with which writers of stupendous ignorance on military matters write of the operations which they think the Generals should undertake. They demand that an army, which has neither adequate transport, artillery, nor cavalry, shall be pushed forward to Richmond to crush out Secession, and at the same time their columns teem with accounts from the army, which prove that it is not only ill-disciplined, but that it is ill-provided. A general outcry has been raised against the war department and the contractors, and it is openly stated that Mr. Cameron, the Secretary, has not clean hands. One journal denounces “the swindling and plunder” which prevail under his eyes. A minister who is disposed to be corrupt can be so with facility under the system of the United States, because he has absolute control over the contracts, which are rising to an enormous magnitude, as the war preparations assume more formidable dimensions. The greater part of the military stores of the State are in the South—arms, ordnance, clothing, ammunition, ships, machinery, and all kinds of matériel must be prepared in a hurry.
The condition in which the States present themselves, particularly at sea, is a curious commentary on the offensive and warlike tone of their Statesmen in their dealings with the first maritime power of the world. They cannot blockade a single port effectually. The Confederate steamer Sumter has escaped to sea from New Orleans, and ships run in and out of Charleston almost as they please. Coming so recently from the South, I can see the great difference which exists between the two races, as they may be called, exemplified in the men I have seen, and those who are in the train going towards Washington. These volunteers have none of the swash-buckler bravado, gallant-swaggering air of the Southern men. They are staid, quiet men, and the Pennsylvanians, who are on their way to join their regiment in Baltimore, are very inferior in size and strength to the Tennesseans and Carolinians.
The train is full of men in uniform. When I last went over the line, I do not believe there was a sign of soldiering, beyond perhaps the “conductor,” who is always described in the papers as being “gentlemantly,” wore his badge. And, à propos of badges, I see that civilians have taken to wearing shields of metal on their coats, enamelled with the stars and stripes, and that men who are not in the army try to make it seem they are soldiers by affecting military caps and cloaks.
The country between Washington and Philadelphia is destitute of natural beauties, but it affords abundant evidence that it is inhabited by a prosperous, comfortable, middle-class community. From every village church, and from many houses, the Union flag was displayed. Four months ago not one was to be seen. When we were crossing in the steam ferry-boat at Philadelphia I saw some volunteers looking up and smiling at a hatchet which was over the cabin door, and it was not till I saw it had the words “States Rights’ Fire Axe” painted along the handle I could account for the attraction. It would fare ill with any vessel in Southern waters which displayed an axe to the citizens inscribed with “Down with States Rights” on it. There is certainly less vehemence and bitterness among the Northerners; but it might be erroneous to suppose there was less determination.
Below Philadelphia, from Havre-de-Grâce all the way to Baltimore, and thence on to Washington, the stations on the rail were guarded by soldiers, as though an enemy were expected to destroy the bridges and to tear up the rails. Wooden bridges and causeways, carried over piles and embankments, are necessary, in consequence of the nature of the country; and at each of these a small camp was formed for the soldiers who have to guard the approaches. Sentinels are posted, pickets thrown out, and in the open field by the way-side troops are to be seen moving, as though a battle was close at hand. In one word, we are in the State of Maryland. By these means alone are communications maintained between the North and the capital. As we approach Baltimore the number of sentinels and camps increase, and earthworks have been thrown up on the high grounds commanding the city. The display of Federal flags from the public buildings and some shipping in the river was so limited as to contrast strongly with those symbols of Union sentiments in the Northern cities.
Since I last passed through this city the streets have been a scene of bloodshed. The conductor of the car on which we travelled from one terminus to the other, along the street railway, pointed out the marks of the bullets on the walls and in the window frames. “That’s the way to deal with the Plug Uglies,” exclaimed he; a name given popularly to the lower classes called Rowdies in New York. “Yes,” said a fellow-passenger quietly to me, “these are the sentiments which are now uttered in the country which we call the land of freedom, and men like that desire nothing better than brute force. There is no city in Europe—Venice, Warsaw, or Rome—subject to such tyranny as Baltimore at this moment. In this Pratt Street there have been murders as foul as ever soldiery committed in the streets of Paris.” Here was evidently the judicial blindness of a States Rights fanatic, who considers the despatch of Federal soldiers through the State of Maryland without the permission of the authorities an outrage so flagrant as to justify the people in shooting them down, whilst the soldiers become murderers if they resist. At the corners of the streets strong guards of soldiers were posted, and patrols moved up and down the thoroughfares. The inhabitants looked sullen and sad. A small war is waged by the police recently appointed by the Federal authorities against the women, who exhibit much ingenuity in expressing their animosity to the stars and stripes—dressing the children, and even dolls, in the Confederate colours, and wearing the same in ribbons and bows. The negro population alone seemed just the same as before.
The Secession newspapers of Baltimore have been suppressed, but the editors contrive nevertheless to show their sympathies in the selection of their extracts. In to-day’s paper there is an account of a skirmish in the West, given by one of the Confederates who took part in it, in which it is stated that the officer commanding the party “scalped” twenty-three Federals. For the first time since I left the South I see those advertisements headed by the figure of a negro running with a bundle, and containing descriptions of the fugitive, and the reward offered for imprisoning him or her, so that the owner may receive his property. Among the insignia enumerated are scars on the back and over the loins. The whip is not only used by the masters and drivers, but by the police; and in every report of petty police cases sentences of so many lashes, and severe floggings of women of colour are recorded.
It is about forty miles from Baltimore to Washington, and at every quarter of a mile for the whole distance a picket of soldiers guarded the rails. Camps appeared on both sides, larger and more closely packed together; and the rays of the setting sun fell on countless lines of tents as we approached the unfinished dome of the Capitol. On the Virginian side of the river, columns of smoke rising from the forest marked the site of Federal encampments across the stream. The fields around Washington resounded with the words of command and tramp of men, and flashed with wheeling arms. Parks of artillery studded the waste ground, and long trains of white-covered waggons filled up the open spaces in the suburbs of Washington.
To me all this was a wonderful sight. As I drove up Pennsylvania Avenue I could scarce credit that the busy thoroughfare—all red, white, and blue with flags, filled with dust from galloping chargers and commissariat carts; the side-walks thronged with people, of whom a large proportion carried sword or bayonet; shops full of life and activity—was the same as that through which I had driven the first morning of my arrival. Washington now, indeed, is the capital of the United States; but it is no longer the scene of beneficent legislation and of peaceful government. It is the representative of armed force engaged in war— menaced whilst in the very act of raising its arm by the enemy it seeks to strike.
To avoid the tumult of Willard’s, I requested a friend to hire apartments, and drove to a house in Pennsylvania Avenue, close to the War Department, where he had succeeded in engaging a sitting-room about twelve feet square, and a bedroom to correspond, in a very small mansion, next door to a spirit merchant’s. At the Legation I saw Lord Lyons, and gave him a brief account of what I had seen in the South. I was sorry to observe he looked rather careworn and pale.
The relations of the United States’ Government with Great Britain have probably been considerably affected by Mr. Seward’s failure in his prophecies. As the Southern Confederacy developes its power, the Foreign Secretary assumes higher ground, and becomes more exacting, and defiant. In these hot summer days, Lord Lyons and the members of the Legation dine early, and enjoy the cool of the evening in the garden; so after a while I took my leave, and proceeded to Gautier’s. On my way I met Mr. Sumner, who asked me for Southern news very anxiously, and in the course of conversation with him I was confirmed in my impressions that the feeling between the two countries was not as friendly as could be desired. Lord Lyons had better means of knowing what is going on in the South, by communications from the British Consuls; but even he seemed unaware of facts which had occurred whilst I was there, and Mr. Sumner appeared to be as ignorant of the whole condition of things below Mason and Dixon’s line as he was of the politics of Timbuctoo.
The importance of maintaining a friendly feeling with England appeared to me very strongly impressed on the Senator’s mind. Mr. Seward has been fretful, irritable, and acrimonious; and it is not too much to suppose Mr. Sumner has been useful in allaying irritation. A certain despatch was written last June, which amounted to little less than a declaration of war against Great Britain. Most fortunately the President was induced to exercise his power. The despatch was modified, though not without opposition, and was forwarded to the English Minister with its teeth drawn. Lord Lyons, who is one of the suavest and quietest of diplomatists, has found it difficult, I fear, to maintain personal relations with Mr. Seward at times. Two despatches have been prepared for Lord John Russell, which could have had no result but to lead to a breach of the peace, had not some friendly interpositor succeeded in averting the wrath of the Foreign Minister.
Mr. Sumner is more sanguine of immediate success than I am, from the military operations which are to commence when General Scott considers the army fit to take the field. At Gautier’s I met a number of officers, who expressed a great diversity of views in reference to those operations. General M’Dowell is popular with them, but they admit the great deficiencies of the subaltern and company officers. General Scott is too infirm to take the field, and the burdens of administration press the veteran to the earth.
