CHAPTER XVI. RICHMOND--HOLLYWOOD--JEFF DAVIS--BRECKINRIDGE--EXTRA BILLY SMITH--MAYOR, GOVERNOR, ETC.

It should be remembered that I am writing of Richmond, as I found it during the beautiful autumn months of September, October and November, 1861. The same conditions did not prevail in the years that immediately followed. It would no doubt have been impossible in 1864 to have overcome so easily the obstacles I encountered in 1861-2.

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.

The gray-headed man who was then the Mayor of the City was apparently overseeing these preparations.

I had been in the habit of sleeping late, and while all this was going on outside I was alternately dressing myself and running to the window to watch the proceedings.

Without waiting for breakfast, I went out on to the street to investigate. The first person I questioned happened to be the hotel proprietor, who said, laughingly:

"Oh, they are just burning the gamblers' stuff that the police captured on the last raid."

It seemed that Richmond had, and has yet, a law that compels, or at least authorizes, their Judge of Police Court to destroy by public fire in the open street any material or paraphernalia which has been used, or intended to be used, for gambling purposes.

The Mayor of Richmond in 1861 was a Mr. Mayo. He was certainly an efficient official, as some of the Maryland refugees will bear testimony.

Extra Billy Smith, who I think had been a Governor of Virginia, was one evening put into our room to sleep, the hotel being quite crowded, it being the occasion of some Virginia State gathering. He was full of talk and kept our crowd aroused and interested until late in the night.

He was living, I believe, somewhere in the neighborhood of where the armies were confronting each other.

One of his stories, which interested me more than anything else, referred to the death of the brother of the Secretary of War, Colonel Cameron, of the 79th New York Regiment, at Bull Run.

The body of Colonel Cameron, it seems, had been found after the battle inside of the Rebel lines.

The news of his death having reached the Secretary of War—the Hon. Simon Cameron—he was, of course, very anxious to have the remains sent back into the Union line for proper burial in his own State.

At that time there was a serious question about the recognition in any official form of the Confederate States of America. It was necessary that the Secretary of War should address a request in some form to an officer in the Confederate Army, requesting the "courtesy" of burying the remains of his brother at home. With Extra Billy Smith it was a question of "curtesy" to the Confederates, and he related with great gusto the amusement the Secretary of War's request for his dead brother's body caused in the Confederate officers' quarters, because it was addressed—"To whom it may concern." Mr. Cameron probably had nothing to do with the formation of the note or request, and it is likely that whoever did it for him was obliged to adopt this, simply because they were ignorant of the names of the proper persons in the Confederate Army to whom it should have been addressed. At any rate, it was a very contemptible piece of work to reply to the Secretary of War that: "The officers of the Confederate States of America did not know that his note, addressed 'To whom it may concern,' concerned anybody but himself."

I made a mental note of Extra Billy's share in this business, determined that old Simon should have him marked.

I presume that about the same general condition of things existed in Washington as in Richmond at the time I was there. There were undoubtedly Rebel spies, and plenty of them, running around loose in Washington, not only at that particular time, but constantly during the years of war which immediately followed.

The Confederates had a very great advantage over us in this regard. Washington City and the Departments were literally full of their sympathizers, who were able to carry on their work of assisting to destroy the Government, which was at the same time feeding them, as they were able to keep up an easy and safe communication through the country about.

Some of these Department Rebel spies remained in the Union Government service not only throughout the war, but even now, after twenty-five years of Republican Administration, are yet in the government service.

In Richmond and the country adjacent it was entirely different. If there were any sympathizers with the Union cause they were known and closely watched, and this was not a troublesome task for the Confederates, as there was not enough of it to occupy much of their attention. As a rule, the colored people were friendly to us, but they were at that time all poor, frightened, ignorant slaves, who dare not, under penalty of the most severe whipping, indicate by the slightest sign that they had any interest in a Union man.

The colored people in Richmond were forbidden to assemble in any number together. If a half-dozen slaves would accidentally get together to talk over the matters of life and liberty, that were so dear to them, it was the duty of any white citizen to order them to disperse. It is not generally known, and may be even doubted by the present generation of Virginians, that there was such a law, but it is a fact. Colored men were not permitted into the Capitol Square at certain times, being excluded by the same municipal law that applied to stray dogs.

It is but just to say that this rule did not apply to Richmond alone, but to Washington as well. In 1861, and previous to the war, the colored boys and girls, as they were all called, even though they were grandfather and mother, were not allowed to enter the Capitol or President's grounds at Washington. They were only permitted to peer through the bars of the great iron fence that then surrounded the grounds.

Every day, as regular as my meal-time occurred, I walked over into the Capitol Square and took my accustomed seat on the bench which gave me such good opportunities to see every person who entered President Jeff Davis' office, as well as a chance to observe the crowd that attended the proceedings in the Capitol building.

I did not give their Congress very much attention, because their business seemed to be to talk only. I was interested only in the War Office, and especially in President Davis.

The Virginia Legislature was also in session at the Capitol. We had a room-mate with us for several days who was a member of the State Legislature from somewhere in the mountain district. Our Maryland refugee, friend Elkton, and this Virginia delegate, who was inclined to doubt the power of the President as compared with that of the Governor of Virginia, were continually discussing the question among themselves at night after we had all gotten to bed, very much to the disgust of the Colonel and myself.

Governor Letcher seemed at the time to be a "bigger man" in Richmond than Jeff Davis. The Governor occupied an elegant mansion, which is beautifully situated in one corner of the Capitol grounds, while President Davis' "White House" was a large red brick building, situated right on the street, a few squares back of the Capitol, with only a small yard for grounds. It is a double house or a square building, with a hall through the middle and a number of rooms on each side. It was beautifully located in what may be called an independent position. I mean by this that there were no other houses immediately adjoining, but a yard or lot on each side as well as the rear. This lot or garden was enclosed by a brick wall.

I frequently strolled up there to get a glimpse of the President, whom I considered to be in my care and keeping, to a certain extent, so that I learned to know his habits or hours of arriving and leaving the house.

I am not competent to make a pen portrait of Mr. Davis. He appeared to me at Montgomery and at Richmond in 1861 as quite a pleasant, but ordinary looking gentleman of middle age. He was usually dressed in dark gray clothes of the frock coat or Prince Albert pattern. I think ordinarily in a dark steel gray. His face was rather thin; the jaws being firmly set gave him rather a dyspeptic appearance.

Jeff Davis has only one eye, which fact I learned quite early, and I always endeavored in my intercourse with the President to keep on the blind side of him. The one good eye was bright enough at that time, and I almost felt from his sharp glances toward me that he suspected me.

One day it was reported that the President would review a regiment of North Carolina cavalry which was then organizing and had been in camp at the Fair Grounds. This was a long walk for me, but I had become sufficiently strong to undertake almost anything—at least I so felt—and as it would never do to miss this opportunity to see Jeff Davis in a military capacity, I started out to the Fair Grounds early in the day reaching there a couple of hours before the review was announced to take place, and sat down under the shade of the fence to watch and wait. The cavalrymen and their officers were busy cleaning up their horses and dressing up for the occasion. One troop was drilling on a distant part of the field.

At the proper time the entire regiment were mounted, and, after a good deal of coaxing, and some cussing, they were formed into long lines, which a full regiment of horse makes.

The Colonel of this regiment was the present Senator from North Carolina, Hon. M. W. Ransom. I heard some of the lookers-on among the crowd, in which I had placed myself, say: "The officer did not dare attempt manoeuvering the cavalrymen, because they were all green tar-heels from North Carolina, mounted on fresh horses, and if they would get out of the line, in which they were placed with so much difficulty, there would be such a circus, or hippodrome, in the Fair Grounds that we would all have to climb the fence for safety."

We waited patiently and in crowds all the afternoon for the President to come. It was until after his office hours, or about five o'clock P. M., that a half-dozen horsemen rode through the gate, and, amidst a blast from a dozen buglers, the President and staff trotted up to the front. To return the salute due the President we have pretty nearly all been through an inspection, and know how it ought to be done, so I need not attempt to describe it here.

President Davis and his staff, dressed in plain, citizens' clothes, rode along the front of the line, his one sharp eye seeming to take in every man from horses' hoofs to their caps. He turned slowly around to the rear of the line, and rode close to where I happened to be standing at the time, and to this day I remember the sudden, sharp glance as his eye caught mine. Perhaps it was imagination or a guilty conscience that gave me the feeling at the time, but, whatever it was, I felt a shock.

After the ordinary forms of a review had been gone through with, to the accompaniment of a half a dozen or so bugles, the President and his party dismounted and held an informal reception to the officers and the crowd at the Colonel's headquarters.

I did not stay for this reception, because I was not, after that glance, particularly anxious to see Jeff at close quarters. I started back to the city on foot. I had gotten almost into town when I heard the Presidential party coming along the road behind me. As they came up, I stopped and was standing alone by the side of the road as President Jeff Davis passed. He was then talking pleasantly with some one who was riding along side of him. Seeing me, Mr. Davis turned away around, probably so his good eye could get me in range, and gave me another look, that pretty nearly convinced me that he had recognized in me the Montgomery Spy.

I do not suppose he gave the subject another thought, if he had at all entertained it, but I was made quite uncomfortable by the incident, which served to put me on my guard. I was becoming too careless.

Indeed, I went to Libby so often that I began to get acquainted with a couple of the Rebel guards, who had a little camp on some vacant lots on the opposite side of the street.

I had noticed that a few enlisted men from among our prisoners had been detailed by the Rebel officers to carry water and otherwise wait upon or assist in preparing the rations for the Union prisoners. Of course these men were always accompanied by a home guard, in gray clothes, who carried a loaded gun.

I had formed a rather foolish notion that it would be a great satisfaction to our prisoners if I could open communication with them, or, at least, that it would gratify them to let them know they had a friend who was at liberty in this city and anxious to serve them.

I gave this up after one trial. One day while loitering in that neighborhood, as usual, I passed on the pavement the customary Rebel guard accompanying a couple of fellows who carried a bucket of water in each hand.

It was about the time that Norfolk was taken by the Union troops, and, as it had been the only piece of good news that I had heard for so long, I was feeling quite elated over even that much, so, when I saw this procession of water-carriers coming up the street, I impulsively concluded at once to convey that information to our poor fellows inside the warehouse.

They had stopped and set down their buckets to rest. Picking out a big, good-natured looking fellow in the blue clothes, who was one of the water-carriers, to experiment on, I walked up to him; without stopping at all or even looking at him, I whispered to him as I went past: "Norfolk is taken."

Never turning my head, I was walking on hurriedly when the blamed fool sang out after me so everybody could hear:

"What?"

He didn't hear anything further from me. I had nothing more to say. Luckily the guard was as stupid as the prisoner, and no notice was taken of it.

Close by Libby Prison is Rockett's, or the landing point in the river below the falls for all the shipping that comes up the James river from the ocean. At these wharves ocean vessels drawing eighteen and twenty feet landed their cargoes in the piping time of peace. It is one of the busiest points about the city, but during the blockade, while the Union troops occupied Fortress Monroe, and subsequently Norfolk and the lower part of the James river, it was quite dull. There were, I believe, some gun-boats being fitted out here, and a few smaller-sized vessels were running irregularly up and down the James as far as they could go, without encountering their own torpedoes, Union batteries, and war-ships. My interest in this place was accidentally aroused (as was Newton's discovery of gravitation by the fall of an apple from a tree) by the reflection, while listlessly throwing sticks of wood out into the stream, that they would naturally float into the Union lines in a few hours—the river that goes on forever certainly reached the Union gunboats, and I reasoned that if the water went to the Union gun-boats, that, of course, I could do the same by simply going with the stream.

This was good logic if it was not good sense. I felt that the details for such a voyage would be easily enough arranged. I gave the matter my careful study, looking up all the maps that I could find bearing upon this river, and cautiously questioning every old colored cook, or seaman, that I could safely run against who had sailed up and down the river and could give me any information. In this way I was able to learn by detail pretty closely the location of the Rebel batteries along the river, and also to ascertain as nearly as was possible just where I would find a Union gun-boat or battery.

My experience on ships of war at Pensacola had not been exactly pleasant, but I knew very well that, once at Fortress Monroe, I could be quickly identified from Washington, and all would be safe enough.

I determined that, when I should return, it would be via the James river and the bay. I preferred the risk of drowning or being blown up by torpedoes in the river to another chase over the hills through the Rebel lines of Manassas, and, as I was in no condition for that long walk that night, I thought it would be more comfortable to have the water to float me out of rebellion into the Union and under the old flag.

Governor Letcher, of Virginia, frequently entertained great crowds of citizens at the elegant mansion provided by the State for her Governor. It seemed to me that the people of Richmond gave more attention to their Governor than to President Davis.

I could hear occasionally of some friction between the Confederate Government and the State Government. Of course, they did not allow this to become generally known, but there was certainly a good deal of this feeling at Richmond, even as early as 1861, which increased in bitterness as the years rolled on.

The State of Virginia had, before the war, a regularly organized standing army of its own. Of course, there were but a few of these "regular" troops, who were not at all like the militia of other States, but a permanent establishment, with a separate uniform of their own, and under the pay and control of the Governor of the State of Virginia. These few Virginia troops were distinct from the Confederates. Their principal duty seemed to be to act as a sort of "Pope's Guard" to Governor Letcher.

There were always several of them on duty about the Capitol grounds in the capacity of guards or police; and, as a consequence, there were numerous conflicts between the Confederate officers and soldiers, who were quite numerous in the city at that time, with this Governor's Guard. I saw one altercation which resulted in a shooting and running match—the Confederate winning over what he termed the "liveried hireling" Virginia Yankee.

I had been giving the telegraph office a pretty wide berth during the early part of my stay in Richmond, fearing that I should meet some one who had known me at Manassas. I began, however, to stop at the large glass windows of their Main street office, to stare in, like the rest of the curious loungers who were attracted by the mysterious tickings of the instruments, which were in sight from the street, the causes of mysterious movements and sounds of which were at distant points.

In those days operators who could read by sound were not so numerous as they are now, and it was never thought necessary to attempt to prevent any person from hearing the sounds of the instruments. I was always very careful to first scrutinize the faces of all the operators before any of them should have an opportunity to first see me. As I have previously stated, an expert operator can read by the sight of the moving armature, or lever, which makes the sound. This was the way in which I had to attempt to read those instruments from the pavement on the main street of Richmond.

To make this plainer to those who are not familiar with the mysteries of the telegraph, I will explain that the right and left motions, or swingings, of the signal flags, which were used in the army, represent exactly the same principle of reading characters by movement. This can be done through even so small a space as that usually taken by a ticking lever of a telegraph instrument, and its operation may be as light and quick in its action as the hand of a watch.

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