July 10th.—To-day was spent in a lengthy excursion along the front of the camp in Virginia, round by the chain bridge which crosses the Potomac about four miles from Washington.
The Government have been coerced, as they say, by the safety of the Republic, to destroy the liberty of the press, which is guaranteed by the Constitution, and this is not the first instance in which the Constitution of the United States will be made nominis umbra. The telegraph, according to General Scott’s order, confirmed by the Minister of War, Simon Cameron, is to convey no despatches respecting military movements not permitted by the General; and today the newspaper correspondents have agreed to yield obedience to the order, reserving to themselves a certain freedom of detail in writing their despatches, and relying on the Government to publish the official accounts of all battles very speedily. They will break this agreement if they can, and the Government will not observe their part of the bargain. The freedom of the press, as I take it, does not include the right to publish news hostile to the cause of the country in which it is published; neither can it involve any obligation, on the part of Government to publish despatches which may be injurious to the party they represent. There is a wide distinction between the publication of news which is known to the enemy as soon as to the friends of the transmitters, and the utmost freedom of expression concerning the acts of the Government or the conduct of past events; but it will be difficult to establish any rule to limit or extend the boundaries to which discussion can go without mischief, and in effect the only solution of the difficulty in a free country seems to be to grant the press free licence, in consideration of the enormous aid it affords in warning the people of their danger, in animating them with the news of their successes, and in sustaining the Government in their efforts to conduct the war.
The most important event to-day is the passage of the Loan Bill, which authorises Mr. Chase to borrow, in the next year, a sum of £50,000,000, on coupons, with interest at 7 per cent, and irredeemable for twenty years—the interest being guaranteed on a pledge of the Customs duties. I just got into the House in time to hear Mr. Vallandigham, who is an ultra-democrat, and very nearly a secessionist, conclude a well-delivered argumentative address. He is a tall, slight man, of a bilious temperament, with light flashing eyes, dark hair and complexion, and considerable oratorical power. “Deem me ef I wouldn’t just ride that Vallandiggaim on a reay-al,” quoth a citizen to his friend, as the speaker sat down, amid a few feeble expressions of assent. Mr. Chase has also obtained the consent of the Lower House to his bill for closing the Southern ports by the decree of the President, but I hear some more substantial measures are in contemplation for that purpose. Whilst the House is finding the money the Government are preparing to spend it, and they have obtained the approval of the Senate to the enrolment of half a million of men, and the expenditure of one hundred millions of dollars to carry on the war.
I called on Mr. Cameron, the Secretary of War. The small brick house of two stories, with long passages, in which the American Mars prepares his bolts, was, no doubt, large enough for the 20,000 men who constituted the armed force on land of the great Republic, but it is not sufficient to contain a tithe of the contractors who haunt its precincts, fill all the lobbies and crowd into every room. With some risk to coattails, I squeezed through iron-masters, gun-makers, clothiers, shoemakers, inventors, bakers, and all that, genus which fattens on the desolation caused by an army in the field, and was introduced to Mr. Cameron’s room, where he was seated at a desk surrounded by people, who were also grouped round two gentlemen as clerks in the same small room. “I tell you, General Cameron, that the way in which the loyal men of Missouri have been treated is a disgrace to this Government,” shouted out a big, black, burly man—” I tell you so, sir.” “Well, General,” responded Mr. Cameron, quietly, “so you have several times. Will you, once for all, condescend to particulars?” “Yes, sir; you and the Government have disregarded our appeals. You have left us to fight our own battles. You have not sent us a cent…” “There, General, I interrupt you. You say we have sent you no money,” said Mr. Cameron, very quietly. “Mr. Jones will be good enough to ask Mr. Smith to step in here.” Before Mr. Smith came in, however, the General, possibly thinking some member of the press was present, rolled his eyes in a Nicotian frenzy, and perorated: “The people of the State of Missouri, sir, will power-out every drop of the blood which only flows to warm patriotic hearts in defence of the great Union, which offers freedom to the enslaved of mankind, and a home to persecuted progress, and a few-ture to civil-zation. We demand, General Cameron, in the neame of the great Western State …” Here Mr. Smith came in, and Mr. Cameron said, “I want you to tell me what disbursements, if any, have been sent by this department to the State of Missouri.” Mr. Smith was quick at figures, and up in his accounts, for he drew out a little memorandum book, and replied (of course, I can’t tell the exact sum), ” General, there has been sent, as by vouchers, to Missouri, since the beginning of the levies, six hundred and seventy thousand dollars and twenty-three cents.” “The General looked crestfallen, but he was equal to the occasion, “These sums may have been sent, sir, but they have not been received. I declare in the face of …” “Mr. Smith will show you the vouchers, General, and you can then take any steps needful against the parties who have misappropriated them.”
“That is only a small specimen of what we have to go through with our people,” said the Minister, as the General went off with a lofty toss of his head, and then gave me a pleasant sketch of the nature of the applications and interviews which take up the time and clog the movements of an American statesman. “These State organisations give us a great deal of trouble.” I could fully understand that they did so. The immediate business that I had with Mr. Cameron—he is rarely called General now that he is Minister of War— was to ask him to give me authority to draw rations at cost price, in case the army took the field before I could make arrangements, and he seemed very well disposed to accede; “but I must think about it, for I shall have all our papers down upon me if I grant you any facility which they do not get themselves.” After I left the War Department, I took a walk to Mr. Seward’s, who was out. In passing by President’s Square, I saw a respectably-dressed man up in one of the trees, cutting off pieces of the bark, which his friends beneath caught up eagerly. I could not help stopping to ask what was the object of the proceeding. “Why, sir, this is the tree Dan Sickles shot Mr. ____ under. I think it’s quite a remarkable spot.”
