Montgomery, Capital of the Confederate States }
of America, May 8, 1861. }
IN my last letter I gave an account of such matters as passed under my notice on my way to this city, which I reached, as you are aware, on the night of Saturday, May 4. I am on difficult ground, the land is on fire, the earth is shaking with the tramp of armed men, and the very air is hot with passion. My communications are cut off, or are at best accidental, and in order to re-open them I must get further away from them, paradoxical as the statement may appear to be. It is impossible to know what is going on in the North, and it is almost the same to learn what is doing in the South out of eyeshot; it is useless to inquire what news is sent to you to England. Events hurry on with tremendous rapidity, and even the lightning lags behind them. The people of the South at last are aware that the “Yankees” are preparing to support the Government of the United States, and that the Secession can only be maintained by victory in the field. There has been a change in their war policy. They now aver that “they only want to be let alone,” and they declare that they do not intend to take Washington, and that it was merely as a feint they spoke about it. The fact is, there are even in the compact and united South men of moderate and men of extreme views, and the general tone of the whole is regulated by the preponderance of one or other at the moment. I have no doubt on my mind that the Government here intended to attack and occupy Washington—not the least that they had it much at heart to reduce Fort Pickens as soon as possible. Now some of their friends say that it will be a mere matter of convenience whether they attack Washington or not, and that, as for Fort Pickens, they will certainly let it alone, at all events for the present, inasmuch as the menacing attitude of General Bragg obliges the enemy to keep a squadron of their best ships there, and to retain a force of regulars they can ill spare, in a position where they must lose enormously from diseases incidental to the climate. They have discovered, too, that the position is of little value so long as the United States hold Tortugas and Key West. But the Confederates are preparing for the conflict, and when they have organized their forces, they will make, I am satisfied, a very resolute advance all along the line. They are at present strong enough, they suppose, in their domestic resources, and in the difficulties presented to a hostile force by the nature of the country, to bid defiance to invasion, or, at all events, to inflict a very severe chastisement on the invaders, and their excited manner of speech so acts upon the minds that they begin to think they can defy, not merely the United States, but the world. Thus it is that they declare they never can be conquered, that they will die to a man, woman, and child first, and that if fifty thousand, or any number of thousands of Black Republicans get one hundred miles into Virginia, not one man of them shall ever get out alive. Behind all this talk, however, there is immense energy, great resolution, and fixed principles of action. Their strategy consists in keeping quiet till they have their troops well in hand, in such numbers and discipline as shall give them fair grounds for expecting success in any campaign with the United States troops. They are preparing with vigor to render the descent of the Mississippi impossible, by erecting batteries on the commanding levees or embankments which hem in its waters for upward of eight hundred miles of bank, and they are occupying, as far as they can, all the strategical points of attack or defence within their borders. When everything is ready, it is not improbable that Mr. Jefferson Davis will take command of the army, for he is reported to have a high ambition to acquire reputation as a general, and in virtue of his office he is Generalissimo of the Armies of the Confederate States. It will be remarked that this plan rests on the assumption that the United States cannot or will not wage an offensive war, or obtain any success in their attempts to recover the forts and other property of the Federal Government. They firmly believe the war will not last a year, and that 1862 will behold a victorious, compact, slave-holding Confederate power of fifteen States under a strong government, prepared to hold its own against the world, or that portion of it which may attack it. I now but repeat the sentiments and expectations of those around me. They believe in the irresistible power of cotton, in the natural alliance between manufacturing England and France and the cotton producing Slave States, in the force of their simple tariff, and in the interest which arise out of a system of free-trade, which, however, by a rigorous legislation they will interdict to their neighbors in the Free States, and only open for the benefit of their foreign customers. Commercially, and politically, and militarily, they have made up their minds, and never was there such confidence exhibited by any people in the future as they have, or pretended to have, in their destiny. Listen to their programme.
It is intended to buy up all the cotton crop which can be brought into the market at an average price, and to give bonds of the Confederate States for the amount, these bonds being, as we know, secured by the export duty on cotton. The Government, with this cotton crop in its own hands, will use it as a formidable machine of war, for cotton can do anything, from the establishment of an empire to the securing of a shirt button. It is at once king and subject, master and servant, captain and soldier, artilleryman and gun. Not one bale of cotton will be permitted to enter the Northern States. It will be made an offence punishable with tremendous penalties, among which confiscation of property, enormous fines, and even the penalty of death, are enumerated, to send cotton into the Free States. Thus Lowell and its kindred factories will be reduced to ruin, it is said, and the North to the direst distress. If Manchester can get cotton and Lowell cannot, there are good times coming for the mill-owners.
The planters have agreed among themselves to hold over one-half of their cotton crop for their own purposes and for the culture of their fields, and to sell the other to the Government. For each bale of cotton, as I hear, a bond will be issued on the fair average price of cotton in the market, and this bond must be taken at par as a circulating medium within the limits of the Slave States. This forced circulation will be secured by the act of the Legislature. The bonds will bear interest at 10 per cent., and they will be issued on the faith and security of the proceeds of the duty of one-eighth of a cent on every pound of cotton exported. All vessels loading with cotton will be obliged to enter into bonds, or give security that they will not carry their cargoes to Northern ports, or let it reach Northern markets to their knowledge. The Government will sell the cotton for cash to foreign buyers, and will thus raise funds amply sufficient, they contend, for all purposes. I make these bare statements, and I leave to political economists the discussion of the question which may and will arise out of the acts of the Confederate States. The Southerners argue that by breaking from their unnatural alliance with the North they will save upward of $47,000,000, or nearly £10,000,000 sterling annually. The estimated value of the annual cotton crop is $200,000,000. On this the North formerly made at least $10,000,000, by advance, interest and exchanges, which in all came to fully 5 per cent. on the whole of the crop. Again, the tariff to raise revenue sufficient for the maintenance of the Government of the Southern Confederacy is far less than that which is required by the Government of the United States. The Confederate States propose to have a tariff which will be about 12½ per cent. on imports, which will yield $25,000,000. The Northern tariff is 30 per cent., and as the South took from the North $70,000,000 worth of manufactured goods and produce, they contribute, they assert, to the maintenance of the North to the extent of the difference between the tax sufficient for the support of their Government, and that which is required for the support of the Federal Government. Now they will save the difference between 30 per cent, and 12½ per cent. (17½ per cent), which amounts to $37,000,000, which, added to the saving on commissions, exchanges, advances, &c., makes up the good round sum which I have put down higher up. The Southerners are firmly convinced that they have “kept the North going” by the prices they have paid for the protected articles of their manufacture, and they hold out to Sheffield, to Manchester, to Leeds, to Wolverhampton, to Dudley, to Paris, to Lyons, to Bordeaux, to all the centres of English manufacturing life, as of French taste and luxury, the tempting baits of new and eager and hungry markets. If their facts and statistics are accurate, there can be no doubt of the justice of their deductions on many points; but they can scarcely be correct in assuming that they will bring the United States to destruction by cutting off from Lowell the 600,000 bales of cotton which she usually consumes. One great fact, however, is unquestionable—the Government has in its hands the souls, the wealth, and the hearts of the people. They will give anything—money, labor, life itself—to carry out their theories. “Sir,” said an ex-Governor of this State to me to-day, “sooner than submit to the North, we will all become subject to Great Britain again.” The same gentleman is one of the many who have given to the Government a large portion of their cotton crop every year as a free-will offering. In his instance his gift is one of 500 bales of cotton, or £5,000 per annum, and the papers teem with accounts of similar “patriotism” and devotion. The ladies are all making sand-bags, cartridges, and uniforms, and, if possible, they are more fierce than the men. The time for mediation is past, if it ever were at hand or present at all; and it is scarcely possible now to prevent the processes of phlebotomization which are supposed to secure peace and repose.
There was no intelligence of much interest on Sunday, but there is a general belief that Arkansas and Missouri will send in their adhesion to the Confederacy this week, and the Commissioners from Virginia are hourly expected. The attitude of that State, however, gives rise to apprehensions lest there may be a division of her strength; and any aggression on her territories by the Federal Government, such as that contemplated in taking possession of Alexandria, would be hailed by the Montgomery Government with sincere joy, as it would, they think, move the State to more rapid action and decision.
Montgomery is on an undulating plain, and covers ground large enough for a city of two hundred thousand inhabitants, but its population is only twelve thousand. Indeed, the politicians here appear to dislike large cities, but the city designers certainly prepare to take them if they come. There is a large negro population, and a considerable number of a color which forces me to doubt the evidences of my senses rather than the statements made to me by some of my friends, that the planters affect the character of parent in their moral relations merely with the negro race. A waiter at the hotel—a tall, handsome young fellow, with the least tinge of color in his cheek, not as dark as the majority of Spaniards or Italians—astonished me in my ignorance to-day when, in reply to a question asked by one of our party, in consequence of a discussion on the point, he informed me he “was a slave.” The man, as he said so, looked confused; his manner altered. He had been talking familiarly to us, but the moment he replied, “I am a slave, Sir,” his loquacity disappeared, and he walked hurriedly and in silence out of the room. The river Alabama, on which the city rests, is a wide, deep stream, now a quarter of a mile in breadth, with a current of four miles an hour. It is navigable to Mobile, upward of four hundred miles, and steamers ascend its waters for many miles beyond this into the interior. The country around is well wooded, and is richly cultivated in broad fields of cotton and Indian corn, but the neighborhood is not healthy, and deadly fevers are said to prevail at certain seasons of the year. There is not much animation in the streets, except when “there is a difficulty among the citizens,” or in the eternal noise of the hotel steps and bars. I was told this morning by the hotel keeper that I was probably the only person in the house, or about it, who had not loaded revolvers in his pockets, and one is aware occasionally of an unnatural rigidity scarcely attributable to the osseous structure in the persons of those who pass one in the crowded passages.
MONDAY, May 6.—To-day I visited the Capitol, where the Provisional Congress is sitting. On leaving the hotel, which is like a small Willard’s, so far as the crowd in the hall is concerned, my attention was attracted to a group of people to whom a man was holding forth in energetic sentences. The day was hot, but I pushed near to the spot, for I like to hear a stump speech, or to pick up a stray morsel of divinity in the via sacra of strange cities, and it appeared as though the speaker was delivering an oration or a sermon. The crowd was small. Three or four idle men in rough, homespun, makeshift uniforms, leaned against the iron rails inclosing a small pond of foul, green-looking water, surrounded by brick-work, which decorates the space in front of the Exchange Hotel. The speaker stood on an empty deal packing case. A man in a cart was listening with a lack-lustre eye to the address. Some three or four others, in a sort of vehicle, which might either be a hearse or a piano-van, had also drawn up for the benefit of the address. Five or six other men, in long black coats and high hats, some whittling sticks, and chewing tobacco, and discharging streams of discolored saliva, completed the group. “Nine h’hun’nerd and fifty dollars! Only nine h-hun’nerd and fifty dollars offered for him,” exclaimed the man, in the tone of injured dignity, remonstrance, and surprise, which can be insinuated by all true auctioneers into the dryest numerical statements. “Will no one make any advance on nine hundred and fifty dollars?” A man near me opened his mouth, spat, and said, “Twenty-five.” “Only nine hundred and seventy-five dollars offered for him. Why, at’s radaklous—only nine hundred and seventy-five dollars! Will no one,” &c. Beside the orator auctioneer stood a stout young man of five-and-twenty years of age, with a bundle in his hand. He was a muscular fellow, broad-shouldered, narrow-flanked, but rather small in stature; he had on a broad, greasy, old wide-awake, a blue jacket, a coarse cotton shirt, loose and rather ragged trowsers, and broken shoes. The expression of his face was heavy and sad, but it was by no means disagreeable, in spite of his thick lips, broad nostrils, and high cheek-bones. On his head was wool instead of hair. I am neither sentimentalist, nor Black Republican, nor negro-worshiper, but I confess the sight caused a strange thrill through my heart. I tried in vain to make myself familiar with the fact that I could, for the sum of nine hundred and seventy-five dollars, become as absolutely the owner of that mass of blood, bones, sinew, flesh, and brains, as of the horse which stood by my side. There was no sophistry which could persuade me the man was not a man—he was, indeed, by no means my brother, but assuredly he was a fellow creature. I have seen slave markets in the East, but somehow or other the Orientalism of the scene cast a coloring over the nature of the sales there which deprived them of the disagreeable harshness and matter-of-fact character of the transaction before me. For Turk, or Smyrniote, or Egyptian, to buy and sell slaves, seemed rather suited to the eternal fitness of things than otherwise. The turbaned, shawled, loose-trowsered, pipe-smoking merchants, speaking an unknown tongue, looked as if they were engaged in a legitimate business. One knew that their slaves would not be condemned to any very hard labor, and that they would be in some sort the inmates of the family and members of it. Here it grated on my ear to listen to the familiar tones of the English tongue as the medium by which the transfer was effected, and it was painful to see decent-looking men in European garb engaged in the work before me. Perchance these impressions may wear off, for I meet many English people who are the most strenuous advocates of the slave system, although it is true that their perceptions may be quickened to recognize its beauties by their participation in the profits. The negro was sold to one of the bystanders, and walked off with his bundle, God knows where. “Niggers is cheap,” was the only remark of the bystanders. I continued my walk up a long, wide, straight street, or, more properly, an unpaved sandy road, lined with wooden houses on each side, and with trees by the side of the footpath. The lower of the two stories is generally used as a shop, mostly of the miscellaneous store kind, in which all sorts of articles are to be had, if there is any money to pay for them; and, in the present case, if any faith is to be attached to the conspicuous notices in the windows, credit is of no credit, and the only thing that can be accepted in exchange for the goods is “cash.” At the end of this long street, on a moderate eminence, stands a whitewashed or painted edifice, with a gaunt, lean portico, supported on lofty, lanky pillars, and surmounted by a subdued and dejected-looking little cupola. Passing an unkempt lawn, through a very shabby little gateway in a brick frame, and we ascend a flight of steps into a hall, from which a double staircase conducts us to the vestibule of the Chamber. Anything much more offensive to the eye cannot well be imagined than the floor and stairs. They are stained deeply by tobacco juice, which have left its marks on the white stone steps, and on the base of the pillars outside. In the hall which we have entered there are two tables, covered with hams, oranges, bread and fruits, for the refreshment of members and visitors, over which two sable goddesses, in portentous crinoline, preside. The door of the chamber is open, and we are introduced into a lofty, well-lighted and commodious apartment, in which the Congress of the Confederate States hold its deliberations. A gallery runs half round the room, and is half filled with visitors—country cousins, and farmers of cotton and maize, and, haply, seekers of places, great or small. A light and low semi-circular screen separates the body of the house, where the members sit, from the space under the gallery, which is appropriated to ladies and visitors. The clerk sits at a desk above this table, and on a platform behind him are the desk and chair of the presiding officer or Speaker of the Congress. Over his head hangs the unfailing portrait of Washington, and a small engraving, in a black frame, of a gentleman unknown to me. Seated in the midst of them, at a Senator’s desk, I was permitted to “assist,” in the French sense, at the deliberations of the Congress. Mr. Howell Cobb took the chair, and a white-headed clergyman was called upon to say prayers, which he did, upstanding, with outstretched hands and closed eyes, by the side of the Speaker. The prayer was long and sulphureous. One more pregnant with gunpowder I never heard, nor could aught like it have been heard since
The Rev. gentleman prayed that the Almighty might be pleased to inflict on the arms of the United States such a defeat, that it might be the example of signal punishment forever; that this President might be blessed, and that the other President might be the other thing; that the gallant, devoted young soldiers, who were fighting for their country, might not suffer from exposure to the weather or from the bullets of their enemies; and that the base mercenaries who were fighting on the other side might come to sure and swift destruction; and so on.
Are right and wrong mere geographical expressions? The prayer was over at last, and the House proceeded to business. Although each State has several delegates in Congress, it is only entitled to one vote on a strict division. In this way some curious decisions may be arrived at, as the smallest State is equal to the largest, and a majority of the Florida representatives may neutralize a vote of all the Georgia representatives. For example, Georgia has ten delegates; Florida has only three. The vote of Florida, however, is determined by the action of any two of its three representatives, and these two may, on a division, throw the one State vote into the scale against that of Georgia, for which ten members are agreed. The Congress transacts all its business in secret session, and finds it a very agreeable and commendable way of doing it. Thus, to-day, for example, after the presentation of a few unimportant motions and papers, the Speaker rapped his desk, and announced that the House would go into secret session, and that all who were not members should leave.
As I was returning to the hotel there was another small crowd at the fountain. Another auctioneer, a fat, flabby, perspiring, puffy man, was trying to sell a negro girl who stood on the deal-box beside him. She was dressed pretty much like a London servant girl of the lower order out of place, except that her shoes were mere shreds of leather patches, and her bonnet would have scarce passed muster in the New Cut. She, too, had a little bundle in her hand, and looked out at the buyers from a pair of large sad eyes. “Niggers were cheap;” still here was this young woman going for an upset price of $610, but no one would bid, and the auctioneer, after vain attempts to raise the price and excite competition, said, “Not sold to-day, Sally; you may get down.”
TUESDAY, May 7.—The newspapers contain the text of the declaration of the state of war on the part of President Davis, and of the issue of letters of marque and reprisal, &c. But it may be asked, who will take these letters of marque? Where is the Government of Montgomery to find ships? The answer is to be found in the fact that already numerous applications have been received from the shipowners of New England, from the whalers of New Bedford, and from others in the Northern States, for these very letters of marque, accompanied by the highest securities and guaranties! This statement I make on the very highest authority. I leave it to you to deal with the facts.
To-day I proceeded to the Montgomery Downing Street and Whitehall to present myself to the members of the Cabinet, and to be introduced to the President of the Confederate States of America. There is no sentry at the doors, and access is free to all, but there are notices on the doors warning visitors that they can only be received during certain hours. The President was engaged with some gentlemen when I was presented to him, but he received me with much kindliness of manner, and when they had left entered into conversation with me for some time on general matters. Mr. Davis is a man of slight, sinewy figure, rather over the middle height, and of erect, soldier-like bearing. He is about fifty-five years of age; his features are regular and well-defined, but the face is thin and marked on cheek and brow with many wrinkles, and is rather careworn and haggard. One eye is apparently blind, the other is dark, piercing, and intelligent. He was dressed very plainly in a light gray summer suit. In the course of conversation he gave an order for the Secretary of War to furnish me with a letter as a kind of passport in case of my falling in with the soldiers of any military posts who might be indisposed to let me pass freely, merely observing that I had been enough within the lines of camps to know what was my duty on such occasions. I subsequently was presented to Mr. Walker, the Secretary of War, who promised to furnish me with the needful documents before I left Montgomery. In his room were General Beauregard and several officers, engaged over plans and maps, apparently in a little council of war, which was, perhaps, not without reference to the intelligence that the United States troops were marching on Norfolk Navy Yard, and had actually occupied Alexandria. On leaving the Secretary I proceeded to the room of the Attorney General, Mr. Benjamin, a very intelligent and able man, whom I found busied in preparations connected with the issue of letters of marque. Everything in the offices looked like earnest work and business.
On my way back from the State Department I saw a very fine company of infantry and three field pieces, with about one hundred and twenty artillerymen, on their march to the railway station for Virginia. The men were all well equipped, but there were no ammunition wagons for the guns, and the transport consisted solely of a few country carts drawn by poor horses, out of condition. There is no lack of muscle and will among the men. The troops which I see here are quite fit to march and fight as far as their personnel is concerned, and there is no people in the world so crazy with military madness. The very children in the streets ape the air of soldiers, carry little flags, and wear cockades as they strut in the highways; and mothers and fathers feed the fever by dressing them up as Zouaves or Chasseurs.
Mrs. Davis had a small levee to-day in right of her position as wife of the President. Several ladies there probably looked forward to the time when their States might secede from the new Confederation, and afford them the pleasure of holding a reception. Why not Presidents of the State of Georgia, or Alabama? Why not King of South Carolina, or Emperor of Florida? Soldiers of fortune, make your game! Gentlemen politicians, the ball is rolling. There is, to be sure, a storm gathering at the North, but it cannot hurt you, and already there are condottieri from all parts of the world flocking to your aid, who will eat your Southern beeves the last of all.
One word more as to a fleet. The English owners of several large steamers are already in correspondence with the Government here for the purchase of their vessels. The intelligence which had reached the Government that their Commissioners have gone on to Paris is regarded as unfavorable to their claims, and as a proof that as yet England is not disposed to recognize them. It is amusing to hear the tone used on both sides toward Great Britain. Both are most anxious for her countenance and support, although the North blusters rather more about its independence than the South, which professes a warm regard for the mother country. “But,” says the North, “if Great Britain recognizes the South, we shall certainly look on it as a declaration of war.” “And,” says the South, “if Great Britain does not recognize our privateers’ flag, we shall regard it as proof of hostility and of alliance with the enemy.” The Government at Washington seeks to obtain promises from Lord Lyons that our Government will not recognize the Southern Confederacy, but at the same time refuses any guaranties in reference to the rights of neutrals. The blockade of the Southern ports would not occasion us any great inconvenience at present, because the cotton-loading season is over; but if it be enforced in October, there is a prospect of very serious and embarrassing questions arising in reference to the rights of neutrals, treaty obligations with the United States Government, the trade and commerce of England, and the law of blockade in reference to the distinctions to be drawn between measures of war and means of annoyance.
As I write the guns in front of the State Department are firing a salute, and each report marks a State of the Confederacy. They are now ten, as Arkansas and Tennessee are now out of the Union.
MOBILE, Alabama, May 11.
THE wayfarer who confides in the maps of a strange country, or who should rely upon even the guide-books of the United States, which still lack a Murray or a Bradshaw, may be at times embarrassed by insuperable hills and unnavigable rivers. When, however, I saw the three towering stories of the high-pressure steamer Southern Republic, on board of which we tumbled down the steep bank of the Alabama river at Montgomery, any such misgivings vanish from my mind. So colossal an ark could have ascended no mythical stream, and the existence and capabilities of the Alabama were demonstrated by its presence.
Punctuality is reputed a rare virtue in the river steamers of the West and South, which seldom leave their wharves until they have bagged a fair complement of passengers, although steaming up and ringing gongs and bells every afternoon for a week or more before their departure, as if travellers were to be swarmed like bees. Whether stimulated by the infectious activity of these “war times,” or convinced that the “politeness of kings” is the best steamboat policy, the grandson of Erin who owns and commands the Southern Republic casts off his fastenings but half an hour after his promised start, and the short puff of the engine is enlivened by the wild strains of a steam-organ called a “calliope,” which gladdens us with the assurance that we are in the incomparable “land of Dixie.”
Reserving for a cooler hour the attractions of the lower floor—a Hades consecrated to machinery, freight, and negroes—we betake ourselves to the second landing, where we find a long dining-hall surrounded by two tiers of state rooms, the upper one accessible by a stairway leading to a gallery, which divides the “saloon” between floor and roof. We are shown to our quarters, which leave much to be desired and nothing to spare, and rush from their suffocating atmosphere to the outer balcony, where a faint breeze stirs the air. There is a roofed balcony above us that corresponds to the second tier of state rooms, from which a party of excited Secessionists are discharging revolvers at the dippers on the surface and the cranes on the banks of the river.
After we have dropped down five or six miles from Montgomery, the steam whistle announces our approach to a landing, and, as there is no wharf in view, we watch curiously the process by which our top-heavy craft, under the sway of a four-knot current, is to swing round in her invisible moorings. As we draw nigh to a wagon-worn indenture in the bank, the “scream” softens into the dulcet pipes of the “calliope,” and the steamer doubles upon her track, like an elephant turning at bay, her two engines being as independent of each other as Seceding States, and, slowly stemming the stream, lays her nose upon the bank, and holds it there, with the judicious aid of her paddles, until a long plank is run ashore from her bow, over which three passengers, with valises, make way for a planter and his family, who come on board. The gang-plank is hauled in, the steamer turns her head down stream with the expertness of a whale in a canal, and we resume our voyage. We renew these stoppages at various times before dark, landing here a barrel and there a box, and occasionally picking up a passenger.
After supper, which is served on a series of parallel tables running athwart the saloon, we return to enjoy from the balcony the cool obscurity of the evening in this climate, where light means heat. As we cleave the glass surface of the black water, the timber-clad banks seem to hem us in more closely and to shut up in the vista before us, and while we glide down with a rapidity which would need but the roar of rapids to prefigure a cataract beyond, we yield to the caprice of fancy, instituting comparisons between the dark perspective ahead and the mystery of the future.
Again a scream, and a ruddy light flashes from our prow and deepens the shades around us. This proceeds from the burning of “light wood”—a highly resinous pine—in a wire basket hung on gimbals and held like a landing-net below the bow of the steamer, so as to guide without blinding the pilot, who is ensconced like a Hansom cabman upon its roof. The torch-bearer raises his cresset as we steam up to the bank, and plants it in a socket, when a hawser is seized round a tree, and the crew turned ashore to “wood up.” There is a steep high bank above us, and while dusky forms are flitting to and fro with food for our furnaces, we survey a long stairway ascending the bank at a sharp angle in a cut, which is lost in the sheds that crown the eminence over head. This stair is flanked on either side by the bars of an iron tramway, up which freight is hauled when landed, and parallel to it is a wooden slide, down which bales of cotton and sacks of corn are shot upon the steamer. One or two passengers slowly ascend, and a voice in the air notifies us that a team is at hand with a load of ladies, who shortly after are seen picking their way down the flight of steps. The cresset is constantly replenished with fresh light wood, and the shadows cast by its flickering flame make us regret that we have not with us a Turner to preserve this scene, which would have been a study for Rembrandt or Salvator Rosa.
At midnight we halt for a couple of hours at Selma, a “rising town,” which has taken a start of late, owing to the arrival of a branch railway, that connects it with Tennessee and the Mississippi River. Here a huge embarcadere, several stories high, seems fastened to the side of the bank, and affords us an opportunity of stepping out from either story of the Southern Republic upon a corresponding landing. Upon one of these floors there are hackmen and hotel runners, competing for those who land, and indicating the proximity of a town, if not a city. Our captain had resolved upon making but a short stay, in lieu of tying up until morning—his usual practice—when an acquaintance comes on board and begs him to wait an hour for a couple of ladies and some children, whom he will hunt up a mile or so out of town. Times are hard, and the captain very cheerfully consents, not insensible to the flattering insinuation: “You know our folks never go with any one but you, if they can help it.”
The next day and evening are a repetition of the foregoing scenes, with more plantations in view and a general air of tillage and prosperity. We are struck by the uniformity of the soil, which everywhere seems of inexhaustible fertility, and by the unvarying breadth of the stream, which, but for its constantly recurring sinuosities, might pass for a broad ship canal. We also remark that the bluffs rarely sink into bottoms susceptible of overflow, and admire the verdure of the primitive forest, a tangle of magnolias in full flower, of laurel, and of various oaks peculiar to this region, and which, though never rising to the dignity of that noble tree in higher latitudes, are many of them extremely graceful. All this sylva of moderate stature is intertwined with creepers, and at intervals we see the Spanish moss, indicating the malarious exhalations of the soil beneath. The Indian corn, upon which the Southerners rely principally for food, has attained a height of two feet, and we were told that, in consequence of the war, it is sown in greater breadth than usual. The cotton plant has but just peeped above the earth, and, alluding to its tenderness, those around us express anxieties about that crop, which, it seems, are never allayed until it has been picked, bagged and pressed, shipped and sold.
As I am not engaged upon an itinerary, let these sketches suffice to convey an idea of the four hundred and seventeen miles of winding river which connect Montgomery with Mobile, to which place the Southern Republic conveyed us in thirty-four hours, stoppings included.
One of the Egyptian pyramids owes its origin to the strange caprice of a princess, and the Southern Republic is said to have been built with the proceeds of an accidental “haul” of Gold Coast natives, who fell into the net of her enterprising proprietor. This worthy, born of Irish parents in Milk street, is too striking a type of what the late Mr. Webster was wont to call a “Northern man with Southern principles,” not to deserve something more than a passing notice.
For out-and-out Southern notions there is nothing in Dixie’s Land like the successful emigrant from the North and East. Captain Meagher had at his fingers’ ends all the politico-economical facts and figures of the Southern side of the question, and rested his reasoning solely upon the more sordid and material calculations of the Secessionists. It was a question of tariffs. The North had, no doubt, provided the protection of a navy, the facilities of mails, the construction of forts, Custom Houses, and Post Offices, in the South, and placed countless well-paid offices at the disposal of gentlemen fond of elegant leisure; but for all these the South had been paying more than their value, and when Abolitionists were allowed to elect a Sectional President, and the system of forced labor, which is the basis of Southern prosperity, was threatened, the South were too happy to take a “snap judgment,” as in a pie poudre Court, and declare the Federal compact forfeited and annulled forever.
During the long second day of our voyage, we examined the faces of the proletarians, whose color and constitutions so well adapted them for the Cyclopian realms of the main deck. Among them we detect several physiognomies which strike us as resembling seedlings from the Gold Coast rather than the second or third fruits of ancient transplantation. A fellow traveller gratifies at the same time our curiosity and our penetration. There are several native Africans, or, as they are called in Cuba, bozales, on board. They are the property of the argumentative captain, and were acquired by a coup de main, at which I have already hinted in this letter. It seems that a club of planters in this State and one or two others resolved, little more than a year ago, to import a cargo of Africans. They were influenced partly by cupidity and partly by fancy to set the United States laws at defiance, and to evince their contempt for New England philanthropy. The job was accepted by an Eastern house, which engaged to deliver the cargo at a certain point on the coast within certain limits of time.
Whether the shipment arrived earlier than anticipated, or whether Captain Meagher was originally designed as the person to whom the bold and delicate manœuvre of landing them should be intrusted, it is certain that on a certain Sunday in last July he took a little coasting trip in his steamer Czar, and appeared at Mobile on the following morning in season to make his regular voyage up river. It is no less certain that he ran the dusky strangers in at night by an unfrequented pass, and landed them among the cane-brakes of his own plantation with sufficient celerity to be back at the moorings of the Czar without his absence having been noticed. The vessel from which the bozales were delivered was scuttled and sunk, and her master and crew found their way North by rail.
But the parties in interest soon claimed to divide the spoils, when, to their infinite disgust, the enterprising Captain very coolly professed to ignore the whole business, and defied them to seek to recover by suit at law property the importation of which was regarded and would be punished as felony, if not as piracy, by the judicial tribunals. A case was made and issue joined, when the Captain proved a circumstantial alibi, and, having cast the claimants, doled them out a few bonzes, perhaps to escape assassination, as shells, while he kept the oyster in the shape of the pick of the importation, which he still holds, reconciling his conscience to the transaction by interpreting it as salvage.
All this is told us by our interlocutor, who was one of the losers by the affair, and who stigmatized the conduct of its hero as having been treacherous. The latter, after repeated jocular inquiries, suffers his vanity to subdue his reticence, and finishes by “acknowledging the corn.”
In the forenoon of the second day we meet two steamers ascending the river, with heavy cargoes, and are told that they are the Keyes and the Lewis, recently warned off, and not seized by the blockading squadron off Pensacola. They are deep with provisions for the forces of the Confederate States Army before Pickens, which must now be dispatched from Montgomery by rail.
In Mobile, for the first time since leaving Washington, “we realize” the entire stagnation of business. There are but five vessels in port, chiefly English, which will suffice to carry away the dêbris of the cotton crop. Exchange on the North is unsalable, owing to the impossibility of importing coin through the unsettled country, and bills on London are of slow sale at par, which would leave a profit of seven per cent. upon the importation of gold from your side.
MOBILE, Sunday, May 11.
The heat of the city rendered an excursion to which I was invited, for the purpose of visiting the forts at the entrance of the bay, exceedingly agreeable, and I was glad to get out from the smell of warm bricks to the breezy waters of the sea. The party comprised many of the leading merchants and politicians of this city, which is the third in importance as a port of exportation in the United States of America. There was not a man among them who did not express, with more or less determination, the resolve never to submit to the rule of the accursed North. Let there be no mistake whatever as to the unanimity which exists at present in the South to fight for what it calls its independence, and to carry on a war to the knife with the Government of the United States. I have frequently had occasion to remark the curious operation of the doctrine of State Rights on the minds of the people: but an examination of the institutions of the country as they actually exist leads to the inference that, where the tyranny of the majority is at once irresponsible and cruel, it is impossible for any man, where the doctrine prevails, to resist it with safety or success. It is the inevitable result of the action of this majority, as it operates in America, first to demoralize and finally to absorb the minority; and even those who have maintained what are called “Union doctrines,” and who are opposed to secession or revolution, have bowed their heads before the majesty of the mass, and have hastened to signify their acquiescence in the decisions which they have hitherto opposed. The minority, cowardly in consequence of the arbitrary and vindictive character of the overwhelming power against which it has struggled, and disheartened by defeat, of which the penalties are tremendous in such conflicts as these, hastens to lick the feet of the conqueror, and rushes with frantic cheers after the chariot in the triumph which celebrates its own humiliation. If there be a minority at all on this great question of Secession in the Southern States, it hides in holes and corners, inaccessible to the light of day, and sits there in darkness and sorrow, silent and fearful, if not dumb and hopeless. There were officers who had served with distinction under the flag of the United States, now anxious to declare that it was not their flag, and that they had no affection for it, although they were ready to admit they would have continued to serve under it if the States had not gone out. A man’s State, in fact, under the operation of these majority doctrines to which I have adverted, holds hostages for his fidelity to the majority, not only in such land or fortune as he may possess within her bounds, but in his family, his relatives, and kin, and if the State revolts, the officer who remains faithful to the flag of the United States is considered by the authorities of the revolting State a traitor, and, what is worse, he is treated in the persons of those he leave behind him as the worst kind of political renegade. General Scott, but a few months ago the most honored of men in a Republic which sets such store on military success, is now reviled and abused because, being a Virginian by birth, he did not immediately violate his oath, abandon his post, and turn to fight against the flag which he has illustrated by repeated successes, during a career of half a century, the moment his State passes an ordinance of Secession.
An intelligent and accomplished officer, who accompanied me to-day around the forts under his command, told me that he had all along resisted Secession, but that when his State went out he felt it was necessary to resign his commission in the United States army, and to take service with the Confederates. Among the most determined opponents of the North, and the most vehement friends of what are called here “domestic institutions,” are the British residents, English, Irish, and Scotch, who have settled here for trading purposes, and who are frequently slave-holders. These men have no State rights to uphold, but they are convinced of the excellence of things as they are, or find it their interest to be so.
The waters of two rivers fall into the head of the Bay of Mobile, which is, in fact, a narrow sea creek between low, sandy banks, covered with pine and forest trees, broken here and there into islands, and extending some thirty miles inland, with a breadth varying from three to seven miles. No attempt has been made apparently to improve the waters or to provide docks or wharfage for the numerous cotton ships which lie out at the mouth of the bay, more than twenty-five miles from Mobile. All the cotton has to be sent down to them in lighters, and the number of men thus employed in the cotton season in loading the barges, navigating and transferring the cargoes to the ships, is very considerable, and their rate of wages is high.
The horror entertained by a merchant captain of the shore is well known, and skippers are delighted at an anchorage so far from land, which at the same time detains the crews in the ships and prevents absenteeism and “running.” At present there are but seven ships at the anchorage, nearly all British, and one of the latter appears in the distance hard and fast ashore, though whether she got there in consequence of the light not being burning or from neglect, it is impossible to say. Fort Gaines, on the right bank of the channel, near the entrance, is an unfinished shell of a fort, which was commenced by the United States engineers some time ago, and which it would not be easy to finish without a large outlay of money and labor. It is not well placed to resist either a land attack or an assault by boats. A high sand-bank in front of one of the faces screens the fire, and a wood on another side, if occupied by riflemen, would render it difficult to work the barbette guns. It is not likely, however, that the fort will be attacked. The channel it commands is only fit for light vessels. From this fort to the other side of the channel, where Fort Morgan stands, the distance is over three miles, and the deep water channel is close to the latter fort. The position at Gaines is held by a strong body of Alabama troops—stout, sturdy men, who have volunteered from farm, field, or desk. They are armed with ordinary muskets of the old pattern, and their uniform is by no means uniform; but the men look fit for service. The fort would take a garrison of five hundred men if fully mounted, but the parapets are mere partition walls of brickwork crenelled; the bomb-proofs are unfinished, and but for a few guns mounted on the sand-hills, the place is a defenceless shell-trap. There are no guns in the casemates, and there is no position ready to bear the weight of a gun in barbette. The guns which are on the beach are protected by sand-bags traversed, and are more formidable than the whole fortress. The steamer proceeded across the channel to Fort Morgan, which is a work of considerable importance, and is assuming a formidable character under the superintendence of Colonel Hardee, formerly of the United States army. It has a regular trace, bastion, and curtain, with a dry ditch and drawbridge, well-made casemates and bomb-proofs, and a tolerable armament of columbiads, 42 and 32-pounders, a few 10-inch mortars, and light guns in the external works at the salients. The store of ammunition seems ample. Some of the fuses are antiquated, and the gun-carriages are old-fashioned. The open parade and the unprotected gorges of the casemates would render the work extremely unpleasant under a shell fire, and the buildings and barracks inside are at present open to the influence of heat. The magazines are badly traversed and inadequately protected. A very simple and apparently effective contrivance for dispensing with the use of the sabot in shells was shown to me by Colonel Maury, the inventor. It consists of two circular grummets of rope, one at the base and the other at the upper circumference of the shell, made by a simple machinery to fit tightly to the sphere, and bound together by thin copper wire. The grummets fit the bore of the gun exactly, and act as wads, allowing the base of the shell to rest in close contact with the charge, and breaking into oakum on leaving the muzzle. Those who know what mischief can be done by the fragments of the sabot when fired over the heads of troops will appreciate this simple invention, which is said to give increased range to the horizontal shell. There must be about sixty guns in this work; it is over-garrisoned, and, indeed, it seems to be the difficulty here to know what to do with the home volunteers. Rope mantlets are used on the breeches of some of the barbette guns. At night the harbor is in perfect darkness. Notwithstanding the defences I have indicated, it would be quite possible to take Fort Morgan with a moderate force well supplied with the means of vertical fire.
“Are there any mosquitoes here?” inquired I of the waiter, on the day of my arrival. “Well, there’s a few, I guess; but I wish there were ten times as many.” “In the name of goodness why do you say so?” asked I, with some surprise and indignation. “Because we’d get rid of the —— Black Republicans out of Fort Pickens all the sooner,” replied he. There is a strange unilateral tendency in the minds of men in judging of the operation of causes and results in such a contest as that which now prevails between the North and the South. The waiter reasoned and spoke like many of his betters. The mosquitoes, for whose aid he was so anxious, were regarded by him as true Southerners, who would only torture his enemies. The idea of these persecuting little fiends being so unpatriotic as to vex the Confederates in their sandy camp never entered into his mind for a moment. In the same way a gentleman of intelligence, who was speaking to me of the terrible sufferings which would be inflicted on the troops at Tortugas and at Pickens by fever, dysentery, and summer heats, looked quite surprised when I asked him “whether these agencies would not prove equally terrible to the troops of the Confederates?”
MOBILE, May 16, 1861.
OUR little schooner lay quietly at the wharf all night, but no one was allowed to come on board without a pass, for these wild-looking sentries are excellent men of business, and look after the practical part of soldiering with all the keenness which their direct personal interest imparts to their notions of duty. The enemy is to them the incarnation of all evil, and they hunt his spies and servants very much as a terrier chases a rat—with intense traditional and race animosity. The silence of the night is not broken by many challenges, or the “All’s well” of patrols; but there is warlike significance enough in the sound of the shot which the working parties are rolling over the wooden jetty, with a dull, ponderous thumping on board the flats that are to carry them off for the food and nourriture of the batteries. With the early morning, however, came the moral signs of martial existence. I started up from among my cockroaches, knocked my head against the fine pine beams over my hammock, and then, considerably obfuscated by the result, proceeded to investigate all the grounds that presented themselves to me as worthy of consideration in reference to the theory which had suddenly forced itself upon my mind that I was in the Crimea. For close at hand, through the sleepy organs of the only sense which was fully awake, came the well-known réveillée of the Zouaves, and then French clangors, rolls, ruffles, and calls ran along the line, and the Volunteers got up, or did not, as seemed best to them. An ebony and aged Ganymede, however, appeared with coffee, and told me, “the Cap’n wants ask weder you take some bitters, Sir;" and, indeed, “the Captain” did compound some amazing preparation for the Judges and Colonels present on deck and below, that met the approval of them all, and was recommending it for its fortifying qualities in making a Redan and Malakhoff of the stomach. Breakfast came in due time; not much Persic apparatus to excite the hate of the simple-minded, but a great deal of substantial matter, in the shape of fried onions, ham, eggs, biscuit, with accompaniments of iced water, Bordeaux, and coffee. Our guests were two—a broad, farmer-like gentleman, weighing some sixteen stone, dressed in a green frieze tunic, with gold lace and red and scarlet worsted facings, and a felt wide awake, who, as he wiped his manly brow, informed me he was a “rifleman.” We have some Volunteers quite as corpulent, and not more patriotic, for our farmer was a man of many bales, and, in becoming an officer in his company of braves, had given an unmistakable proof of devotion to his distant home and property. The other, a quiet, modest, intelligent-looking young man, was an officer in a different battalion, and talked with sense about a matter with which sense has seldom anything to do—I mean uniform. He remarked that in a serious action and close fighting, or in night work, it would be very difficult to prevent serious mistakes, and even disasters, owing to the officers of the Confederate States’ troops wearing the same distinguishing marks of rank and similar uniforms, whenever they can get them, to those used in the regular service of the United States, and that much inconvenience will inevitably result from the great variety and wonderful diversity of the dresses of the immense number of companies forming the different regiments of Volunteers.
The only troops near us which were attired with a regard to military exactness, were the regiment of Zouaves from New Orleans. Most of these are Frenchmen or Creoles, some have belonged to the battalions which the Crimea first made famous, and were present before Sevastopol and in Italy, and the rest are Germans and Irish. Our friends went off to see them drill, but, as a believer in the enchanting power of distance, I preferred to look on at such of the manœuvres as could be seen from the deck. These Zouaves look exceedingly like the real article. They are, perhaps, a trifle leaner and taller, and are not so well developed at the back of the head, the heels, and the ankles, as their prototypes. They are dressed in the same way, except that I saw no turban on the fez cap. The jacket, the cummerbund, the baggy red breeches, and the gaiters, are all copies of the original. They are all armed with rifle-musket and sword-bayonet, and their pay is at the usual rate of $11, or something like £2 6s. a month, with rations and allowances. The officers do their best to be the true “chacal.” I was more interested, I confess, in watching the motions of vast shoals of mullet and other fish, which flew here and there, like flocks of plover, before the red fish and other enemies, and darted under our boat, than in examining Zouave drill. Once, as a large fish came gamboling along the surface close at hand, a great gleam of white shot up in the waves beneath, and a boiling whirl marked with a crimson pool, which gradually melted off in the tide, showed where a monster shark had taken down a part of his breakfast. “That’s a ground-sheark,” quoth the skipper. “There’s quite a many of them about here.” Porpoises passed by in a great hurry for Pensacola, and now and then a turtle showed his dear little head above the enviable fluid which he honored with his presence. Far away in the long stretch of water toward Pensacola are six British merchantmen in a state of blockade; that is, they have only fifteen days to clear out, according to the reading of the law adopted by the United States officers.
The Navy Yard looks clean and neat in the early morning, and away on the other side of the channel Fort Pickens—teterrima causa—raises its dark front from the white sand and green sward of the glacis, on which a number of black objects invite inspection through a telescope, and obligingly resolve themselves into horses turned out to graze on the slope. Fort M’Rae, at the other side of the channel, as if to irritate its neighbor, flings out a flag to the breeze, which is the counterpart of the “Stars and Stripes” that wave from the rival flagstaff, and is at this distance identical to the eye until the glass detects the solitary star in its folds instead of the whole galaxy. On the dazzling snowy margin of sand that separates the trees and brushwood from the sea, close at hand, the outline of the batteries which stud the shore for miles is visible. Let us go and make a close inspection. Mr. Ellis, a lieutenant in the Louisiana regiment, who is aide-de-camp to Brigadier-General Bragg, has just arrived with a message from his chief to escort me round all the works, and wherever else I like to go, without any reservation whatever. He is a handsome, well-built, slight young fellow, very composed and staid in manner, but full of sentiment for the South. Returned from a tour in Europe, he is all admiration for English scenery, life, and habits. “After all, nature has been more bountiful to you than to us.” He is dressed in a tight undress cavalry jacket and trowsers of blue flannel, with plain gold lace pipings and buttons, but on his heels are heavy brass spurs, worthy of the heaviest of field officers. Our horses are standing in the shade of a large tree near the wharf, and mine is equipped with a saddle of ponderous brass-work, on raised pummel and cantle, and housings, and emblazoned cloth, and mighty stirrups of brass fit for the stoutest marshal that ever led an army of France to victory; General Braxton Bragg is longer in the leg than Marshal Pelissier or Canrobert, or the writer, and as we jogged along over the deep, hot sand, my kind companion, in spite of my assurances that the leathers were quite comfortable, made himself and me somewhat uneasy on the score of their adjustment, and, as there was no implement at hand to make a hole, we turned into the General’s court yard to effect the necessary alterations. The cry of “Orderly” brought a smart, soldierly young man to the front, who speedily took me three holes up, and as I was going away he touched his cap and said, “I beg your pardon, Sir, but I often saw you in the Crimea.” His story as he told it was brief. He had been in the 11th Hussars, and on the day of the 25th of October he was following, as he said, close after Lord Cardigan and Captain Nolan, when his horse was killed under him. As he tried to make his escape, the Cossacks took him prisoner, and for eleven months he was in captivity, but was exchanged at Odessa. “Why did you leave the service?” “Well, Sir, I was one of the two sergeants that was permitted to leave in each regiment on the close of the war, and I came away.” “But here you are soldiering again?” “Yes, Sir; I came over here to better myself, as I thought, and I had to enter one of their cavalry regiments, but now I am an orderly.” He told me further, that his name was Montague, and that he “thought his father lived near Windsor, twenty-one miles from London;” and I was pleased to find his superior officers spoke of him in very high terms, although I could have wished those who spoke so were in our own service.
I do not think that any number of words can give a good idea of a long line of detached batteries. I went through them all, and I certainly found stronger reasons than ever for distrusting the extraordinary statements which appear in the American journals in reference to military matters, particularly on their own side of the question. Instead of hundreds of guns, there are only ten. They are mostly of small calibre, and the gun-carriages are old and unsound, or new and rudely made. There are only five “heavy” guns in all the works, but the mortar batteries, three in number, of which one is unfinished, will prove very damaging, although they will only contain nine or ten mortars. The batteries are all sand-bag and earthworks, with the exception of Fort Barrancas. They are made after all sorts of ways, and are of very different degrees of efficiency. In some the magazines will come to speedy destruction; in others they are well made. Some are of the finest white sand, and will blind the gunners, or be blown away with shells; others are cramped, and hardly traversed; others, again, are very spacious, and well constructed. The embrasures are usually made of sand-bags, covered with raw hide, to save the cotton bags from the effect of the fire of their own guns. I was amused to observe that most of these works had galleries in the rear, generally in connection with the magazine passages, which the constructors called “rat-holes,” and which are intended as shelter to the men at the guns, in case of shells falling inside the battery. They may prove to have a very different result, and are certainly not so desirable in a military point of view as good traverses. A rush for the “rat-holes” will not be very dignified or improving to the morale every time a bomb hurtles over them; and assuredly the damage to the magazines will be enormous if the fire from Pickens is accurate and well sustained. Several of the batteries were not finished, and the men who ought to have been working were lying under the shade of trees, sleeping or smoking—long-limbed, long-bearded fellows in flannel shirts and slouched hats, uniformless in all save bright, well-kept arms, and resolute purpose. We went along slowly from one battery to the other. I visited nine altogether, not including Fort Barrancas, and there are three others, among which is Fort M’Rae. Perhaps there may be fifty guns of all sorts in position for about three miles, along a line exceeding 136 deg. around Fort Pickens, the average distance being about 11/3 mile. The mortar batteries are well placed among brushwood, quite out of view to the fort, at distances varying from 2,500 to 2,800 yards, and the mortars are generally of callibres nearly corresponding with our 10-inch pieces. Several of the gun batteries are put on the level of the beach; others have more command, and one is particularly well placed, close to the White Lighthouse, on a raised plateau, which dominates the sandy strip that runs out to Fort M’Rae. Of the latter I have already spoken. Fort Barrancas is an old fort—I believe of Spanish construction, with a very meagre trace—a plain curtain-face toward the sea, protected by a dry ditch and an outwork, in which, however, there are no guns. There is a drawbridge in the rear of the work, which is a simple parallelogram, showing twelve guns mounted en barbette on the sea-face. The walls are of brick, and the guns are protected by thick merlons of sand-bags. The sole advantage of the fort is in its position; it almost looks down into the casemates of Pickens opposite, at its weakest point, and it has a fair command of the sea entrance, but the guns are weak, and there are only three pieces mounted which can do much mischief. While I was looking round there was an entertaining dispute going on between two men, whom I believe to have been officers, as to the work to be done, and I heard the inferior intimate pretty broadly his conviction that his chief did not know his own business in reference to some orders he was conveying.
The amount of ammunition which I saw did not appear to me to be at all sufficient for one day’s moderate firing, and many of the shot were roughly cast and had deep flanges from the moulds in their sides, very destructive to the guns as well as to accuracy. In the rear of these batteries, among the pine woods and in deep brush, are three irregular camps, which, to the best of my belief, could not contain more than 2,700 men. There are probably 3,000 in and about the batteries, the Navy Yard, and the suburbs, and there are also, I am informed, 1,500 at Pensacola, but I doubt exceedingly that there are as many as 8,000 men, all told, of effective strength under the command of Gen. Bragg. It would be a mistake to despise these Irregulars. One of the Mississippi regiments out in camp was evidently composed of men who liked campaigning, and who looked as though they would like fighting. They had no particular uniforms—the remark will often be made—but they had pugnacious physiognomies, and the physical means of carrying their inclinations into effect, and every man of them was, I am informed, familiar with the use of arms. Their tents are mostly small and bad, on the ridge-pole pattern, with side flys to keep off the sun. In some battalions they observe regularity of line, in others they follow individual or company caprice. The men use green boughs and bowers, as our poor fellows did in the old hot days in Bulgaria, and many of them had benches and seats before their doors, and the luxury of boarded floors to sleep upon.
There is an embarrassing custom in America, scarcely justifiable in any code of good manners, which in the South at least is too common, and which may be still more general in the North; at all events, to a stranger it is productive of the annoyance which is experienced by one who is obliged to inquire whether the behavior of those among whom he is at the time is intentional rudeness or conventional want of breeding. For instance, my friend and myself, as we are riding along, see a gentleman standing near his battery or his tent—“Good-morrow, Colonel,” or “General” (as the case may be), says my friend—“Good-morrow (imagining military rank according to the notion possessed by speaker of the importance of the position of a General’s A. D. C.), Ellis.” “Colonel, &c., allow me to introduce to you Mr. Jones of London.” The Colonel advances with effusion, holds out his hand, grasps Jones’s hand rigidly, and says warmly, as if he had just gained a particular object of his existence, “Mr. Jones, I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Sir. Have you been pretty well since you have been in this country, Sir?” &c. But it is most likely that the Colonel will just walk away when he pleases, without saying a word to or taking the least notice of the aforesaid Jones, as to whose acquaintance he had just before expressed such friendly feelings, and in whose personal health he had taken so deep an interest; and Jones, till he is accustomed to it, feels affronted. The fact is, that the introduction means nothing; you are merely told each other’s names, and if you like you may improve your acquaintance. The hand shaking is a remnant of barbarous times, when men with the same colored skin were glad to see each other.
The country through which we rode was most uninteresting, thick brushwood and pine trees springing out of deep sand, here and there a nullah and some dirty stream—all flat as ditchwater. On our return we halted at the General’s quarters. I had left a note for him, in which I inquired whether he would have any objection to my proceeding to Fort Pickens from his command, in case I obtained permission to do so, and when I entered General Bragg’s room he was engaged in writing not merely a very courteous and complimentary expression of his acquiescence in my visit, but letters of introduction to personal friends in Louisiana, in the hope of rendering my sojourn more agreeable. He expressed a doubt whether my comrades would be permitted to enter the fort, and talked very freely with me in reference to what I had seen at the batteries, but I thought I perceived an indication of some change of purpose with respect to the immediate urgency of the attack on Fort Pickens, compared with his expressions last night. At length I departed with many thanks to General Bragg for his kindness and confidence, and returned to a room full of Generals and Colonels, who made a levee of their visits.
On my return to the schooner I observed that the small houses on the side of the long sandy beach were filled with men, many of whom were in groups round the happy possessors of a newspaper, and listened with the utmost interest to the excited delivery of the oracular sentences. How much of the agony and bitterness of this conflict—nay, how much of its existence—may be due to these same newspapers, no man can say, but I have very decided opinions, or rather a very strong belief, on the subject. There were still more people around the various bar-rooms than were attracted even by the journalists. Two of our companions were on board when I got back to the quay. The Mobile gentlemen had gone off to Pensacola, and had not returned to time, and under any circumstances it was not probable that they would be permitted to land, as undoubtedly they were no friends to the garrison or to the cause of the United States.
Our skipper opened his eyes and shook his rough head when he was ordered to get under way for Fort Pickens, and to anchor off the jetty. Up went the flag of truce to the fore once more, but the ever-watchful sentry, diverted for the time from his superintendence of the men who were fishing at our pier, forbade our departure till the corporal of the guard had given leave, and the corporal of the guard would not let the fair Diana cast off her warp till he had consulted the sergeant of the guard, and so there was some delay occasioned by the necessity for holding an interview with that functionary, who finally permitted the captain to proceed on his way, and with a fair light breeze the schooner fell round into the tideway and glided off towards the fort. We drew up with it rapidly, and soon attracted the notice of the look-out men and some officers who came down to the jetty.
We anchored a cable’s length from the jetty. In reply to the sentry’s hail, the skipper asked for a boat to put off for us. “Come off in your own boat.” Skiff of Sharon! But there was no choice. With all the pathos of that remarkable structure, it could not go down in such a short row. And if it did? Well, “there is not a more terrible place for sharks along this coast,” the captain had told us incidentally en route. Our boat was inclined to impartiality in its relation with the water, and took quite as much inside as it could hold, but we soused into it, and the men pulled like Doggett’s Badgers, and soon we were out of shark depth and alongside the jetty, where were standing to receive us Mr. Brown, our friend of yesterday, Captain Vogdes, and Captain Berry, commanding a United States battery in the fort. The soldiers of the guard were United States regular troops of the artillery, wore blue uniforms with brass buttons and remarkably ugly slouched hats, with an ornament in the shape of two crossed cannons. Captain Vogdes informed me that Col. Moore had sent off a reply to my letter to the fleet, stating that he would gladly permit me to go over the fort, but that he would not allow any one else, under any circumstances, whatever, to visit it. My friends were, therefore, constrained to stay outside; but one of them picked up a friend on the beach, and got up an impromptu ride along the island.
The way from the jetty to the entrance of the fort is in the universal deep sand of this part of the world; the distance from the landing place to the gateway is not much more than two hundred yards, and the approach to the portal is quite unprotected. There is a high ramp and glacis on the land side, but the face and part of the curtain in which the gate is situate are open, as it was not considered likely that it would ever be attacked by Americans. The sharp angle of the bastion on this face is so weak that men are now engaged in throwing up an extempore glacis to cover the base of the wall and the casemates from fire. The ditch is very broad, and the scarp and counterscarp are riveted with brick-work. The curvette has been cleared out, and in doing so, as a proof of the agreeable character of the locality, I may observe, upwards of sixty rattlesnakes were killed by the workmen. An abattis has been made along the edge of this part of the ditch—a rough inclined fence of stakes and boughs of trees. “Yes, Sir; at one time when those terrible fire-eating gentlemen at the other side were full of threats, and coming to take the place every day, there were only seventy men in this fort, and Lieut. Slemmer threw up this abattis to delay his assailants, if it were only for a few minutes, and to give his men breathing time to use their small arms.”
The casemates here are all blinded, and the hospital is situated in the bomb-proofs inside. The gate was closed. At a talismanic knock it was opened, and from the external silence we passed into a scene full of activity and life, through the dark gallery which served at first as a framework to the picture. The parade of the fort was full of men, and at a coup d’œil it was obvious that great efforts had been made to prepare Fort Pickens for a desperate defence. In the parade were several tents of what is called Sibley’s pattern, like our bell tents, but without the lower side wall, and provided with a ventilating top, which can be elevated or depressed at pleasure. The parade ground has been judiciously filled with deep holes, like inverted cones, in which shells will be comparatively innocuous; and, warned by Sumter, everything has been removed which could prove in the least degree combustible. The officer on duty led me straight across to the opposite angle of the fort. As the rear of the casemates and bomb-proofs along this side will be exposed to a plunging fire from the opposite side, a very ingenious screen has been constructed by placing useless gun platforms and parts of carriages at an angle against the wall, and piling them up with sand and earth for several feet in thickness. A passage is thus left between the base of the wall and that of the screen through which a man can walk with ease.
Turning into this passage we entered a lofty bomb-proof, which was the bed-room of the commanding officer, and passed through into the casemate which serves as his headquarters. Colonel Harvey Brown received me with every expression of politeness and courtesy. He is a tall, spare, soldierly-looking man, with a face indicative of great resolution and energy, as well as of sagacity and kindness, and his attachment to the Union was probably one of the reasons of his removal from the command of Fort Hamilton, New York, to the charge of this very important fort. He has been long in the service, and he belonged to the first class of graduates who passed at West Point after its establishment in 1818. After a short and very interesting conversation, he proceeded to show me the works, and we mounted upon the parapet, accompanied by Captain Berry, and went over all the defences. Fort Pickens has a regular bastioned trace, in outline an oblique and rather narrow parallelogram, with the obtuse angles facing the sea at one side and the land at the other. The acute angle, at which the bastion toward the enemy’s batteries is situated, is the weakest part of the work; but it was built for sea defence, as I have already observed, and the trace was prolonged to obtain the greatest amount of fire on the sea approaches. The crest of the parapet is covered with very solid and well-made merlons of heavy sand-bags, but one face and the gorge of the bastion are exposed to an enfilading fire from Fort M’Rae, which the Colonel said he intended to guard against if he got time.
All the guns seemed in good order, the carriages being well constructed, but they are mostly of what are considered small calibres now-a-days, being 32-pounders, with some 42-pounders and 24-pounders. There are, however, four heavy columbiads, which command the enemy’s works on several points very completely. It struck me that the bastion guns were rather crowded. But, even in its present state, the defensive preparations are most creditable to the officers, who have had only three weeks to do the immense amount of work before us. The brick copings have been removed from the parapets, and strong sand-bag traverses have been constructed to cover the gunners, in addition to the “rat-holes” at the bastions. More heavy guns are expected, which, with the aid of a few more mortars, will enable the garrison to hold their own against everything but a regular siege on the land side, and so long as the fleet covers the narrow neck of the island with its guns, it is not possible for the Confederates to effect a lodgment. If Fort M’Rae were strong and heavily armed, it could inflict great damage on Pickens; but it is neither one nor the other, and the United States officers are confident that they will speedily render it quite untenable.