Part 15 (2/2)

I always despised the contemptible idea. I had been in correspondence with the Russian Iskander or Alexander Herzen, who was a century in advance of his time. He was the real abolisher of serfdom in Russia, as history will yet prove. I once wrote a very long article urging the Russian Government to throw open the Ural gold mines to foreigners, and make every effort to annex Chinese territory and open a port on the Pacific. Herzen translated it into Russian (I have a copy of it), and circulated twenty thousand copies of it in Russia. The Czar read it.

Herzen wrote to me: ”It will be pigeon-holed for forty years, and then perhaps acted on. The Pacific will be the Mediterranean of the future.”

With such ideas I did not believe in the dismemberment of the United States. {237}

But Sumter was fired on, and the whole North rose in fury. It was the silliest act ever committed. The South, with one-third of the votes, had two-thirds of all the civil, military, and naval appointments, and every other new State, and withal half of the North, ready to lick its boots, and still was not satisfied. It could not go without giving us a thras.h.i.+ng. And that was the drop too much. So we fought. And we conquered; but _how_? It was all expressed in a few words, which I heard uttered by a common man at a _Bulletin_ board, on the dreadful day when we first read the news of the retreat at Bull Run: ”It's hard--but we must buckle up and go at it again.” It is very strange that the South never understood that among the mud-sills and toiling slaves and factory serfs of the North the spirit which had made men enrich barren New England and colonise the Western wilderness would make them buckle up and go at it again boldly to the bitter end.

One evening I met C. A. Dana on Broadway. War had fairly begun. ”It will last,” he said, ”not less than four years, but it may extend to seven.”

Trouble now came thick and fast. _Vanity Fair_ was brought to an end.

Frank Leslie found that he no longer required my services, and paid my due, which was far in arrears, in his usual manner, that is, by orders on advertisers for goods which I did not want, and for which I was charged double prices. Alexander c.u.mmings had a very ingenious method of ”shaving” when obliged to pay his debts. His friend Simon Cameron had a bank--the Middleton--which, if not a very wild cat, was far from tame, as its notes were always five or ten per cent. below par, to our loss--for we were always paid in Middleton. I have often known the clerk to take a handful of notes at par and send out to buy Middleton wherewith to pay me. I am sorry to say that such tricks were universal among the very great majority of proprietors with whom I had dealings. To ”do” the _employes_ to the utmost was considered a matter of course, especially when the one employed was a ”literary fellow” of any kind or an artist.

I should mention that while in New York I saw a great deal of Bayard Taylor and his wife. I had known him since 1850 and was intimate with him till his death. He occupied the same house with the distinguished poet R. H. Stoddard. I experienced from both much kindness. We had amusing Sat.u.r.day evenings there, where droll plays were improvised, and admirable disguises made out of anything. In after years, in London, Walter H. Pollock, Minto (recently deceased), and myself, did the same.

One night, in the latter circle, we played _Hamlet_, but the chief character was the Sentinel, who stared at the Ghost with such open-jawed horror--”_bouche beante_, _rechignez_!”--and so prominently, that poor Hamlet was under a cloud. Pollock's great capuchon overcoat served for all kinds of mysterious characters. We were also kindly entertained many a time and oft in New York by Mr. and Mrs. Charles A. Dana.

My engagement expired on the _Times_--where, by the way, I was paid in full in good money--and I found myself without employment in a fearful financial panic. During the spring and early summer we had lived at the Gramercy Park Hotel; we now went to a very pleasant boarding-house kept by Mrs. Dunn, on Staten Island. My old friend, George Ward, and G. W.

Curtis, well known in literature and politics (who had been at Mr.

Greene's school), lived at no great distance from us. The steamboats from New York to Staten Island got to racing, and I enjoyed it very much, but George Ward and some of the milder sort protested against it, and it was stopped; which I thought rather hard, for we had very little amus.e.m.e.nt in those dismal days. I was once in a steamboat race when our boat knocked away the paddle-box from the other and smashed the wheel.

From the days of the Romans and Nors.e.m.e.n down to the present time, there was never any form of amus.e.m.e.nt discovered so daring, so dangerous, and so exciting as a steamboat race, and n.o.body but Americans could have ever invented or indulged in it.

The old _Knickerbocker Magazine_ had been for a long time running down to absolutely nothing. A Mr. Gilmore purchased it, and endeavoured to galvanise it into life. Its sober grey-blue cover was changed to orange.

Mr. Clark left it, to my sorrow; but there was no help for it, for there was not a penny to pay him. I consented to edit it for half owners.h.i.+p, for I had an idea. This was, to make it promptly a strong Republican monthly for the time, which was utterly opposed to all of Mr. Clark's ideas.

I must here remark that the financial depression in the North at this time was terrible. I knew many instances in which landlords begged it as a favour from tenants that they would remain rent-free in their houses. A friend of mine, Mr. Fales, one day took me over two houses in Fifth Avenue, of which he had been offered his choice for $15,000 each. Six months after the house sold for $150,000. Factories and shops were everywhere closing, and there was a general feeling that far deeper and more terrible disasters were coming--war in its worst forms--national disintegration--utter ruin. This spirit of despair was now debilitating everybody. The Copperheads or Democrats, who were within a fraction as numerous as the Republicans, continually hissed, ”You see to what your n.i.g.g.e.r wors.h.i.+p has brought the country. This is all your doing. And the worst is to come.” Then there was soon developed a cla.s.s known as Croakers, who increased to the end of the war. These were good enough Union people, but without any hope of any happy issue in anything, and who were quite sure that everything was for the worst in this our most unfortunate of all wretched countries. Now it is a law of humanity that in all great crises, or whenever energy and manliness is needed, pessimism is a benumbing poison, and the strongest optimism the very _elixir vitae_ itself. And by a marvellously strange inspiration (though it was founded on cool, far-sighted calculation), I, at this most critical and depressing time, rose to extremest hope and confidence, rejoicing that the great crisis had at length come, and feeling to my very depths of conviction that, as we were sublimely in the right, we must conquer, and that the dread portal once pa.s.sed we should find ourselves in the fairy palace of prosperity and freedom. But that I was absolutely for a time alone amid all men round me in this intense hope and confidence, may be read as clearly as can be in what I and others published in those days, for all of this was recorded in type.

Bayard Taylor had been down to the front, and remarked carelessly to me one day that when he found that there was already a discount of 40 per cent. on Confederate notes, he was sure that the South would yield in the end. This made me think very deeply. There was no reason, if we could keep the Copperheads subdued, why we should not hold our own on our own territory. _Secondly_, as the war went on we should soon win converts.

_Thirdly_, that the North had immense resources--its hay crop alone was worth more than all the cotton crop of the South. And _fourthly_, that when manufacturing and contract-making for the army should once begin, there would be such a spreading or wasting of money and making fortunes as the world never witnessed, and that while we grew rich, the South, without commerce or manufactures, must grow poor.

I felt as if inspired, and I wrote an article ent.i.tled, ”Woe to the South.” At this time, ”Woe to the North” was the fear in every heart. I showed clearly that if we would only keep up our hearts, that the utter ruin of the South was inevitable, while that for us there was close at hand such a period of prosperity as no one ever dreamt of--that every factory would soon double its buildings, and prices rise beyond all precedent. I followed this article by others, all in a wild, enthusiastic style of triumph. People thought I was mad, and the _New York Times_ compared my utterances to the outpourings of a fanatical Puritan in the time of Cromwell.

But they were fulfilled to the letter. There is no instance that I know of in which any man ever prophesied so directly in the face of public opinion and had his predictions so accurately fulfilled. I was _all alone_ in my opinions. At all times a feeling as of awe at myself comes over me when I think of what I published. For, with the exception of Gilmore, who had a kind of vague idea that he kept a prophet--as Moses the tailor kept a poet--not a soul of my acquaintance believed in all this.

Then I went a step further. I found that the real block in the way of Northern union was the disgust which had gathered round the mere _name_ of Abolitionist. It became very apparent that freeing the slaves would, as General Birney once said to me, be knocking out the bottom of the basket. And people wanted to abolitionise without being ”Abolitionists”; and at this time even the _New York Tribune_ became afraid to advocate anti-slavery, and the greatest fanatics were dumb with fear.

Then I made a new departure. I advocated emanc.i.p.ation of the slaves _as a war measure only_, and my cry was ”Emanc.i.p.ation for the sake of the White Man.” I urged prompt and vigorous action without any regard to philanthropy. As publis.h.i.+ng such views in the _Knickerbocker_ was like pouring the wildest of new wine into the weakest of old bottles, Gilmore resolved to establish at once in Boston a political monthly magazine to be called the _Continental_, to be devoted to this view of the situation.

It was the only political magazine devoted to the Republican cause published during the war. That it fully succeeded in rapidly attracting to the Union party a vast number of those who had held aloof owing to their antipathy to the mere word abolition, is positively true, and still remembered by many. {242} Very speedily indeed people at large caught at the idea. I remember the very first time when one evening I heard Governor Andrews say of a certain politician that he was not an Abolitionist but an _Emanc.i.p.ationist_; and it was subsequently declared by my friends in Boston, and that often, that the very bold course taken by the _Continental Magazine_, and the creation by it of the Emanc.i.p.ationist wing, had hastened by several months the emanc.i.p.ation of the slaves by Abraham Lincoln. It was for this alone that the University of Cambridge, Ma.s.sachusetts, afterwards, through its president, gave me the degree of A. M., ”for literary services rendered to the country during the war,” which is as complete a proof of what I a.s.sert as could be imagined, for this was in very truth the one sole literary service which I performed at that time, and there were many of my great literary friends who declared their belief in, and sympathy with, the services which I rendered to the cause. But I will now cite some facts which fully and further confirm what I have said.

The _Continental Magazine_ was, as I may say, a something more than semi- official organ. Mr. Seward contributed to it two anonymous articles, or rather their substance, which were written out and forwarded to me by Oakey Hall, Esq., of New York. We received from the Cabinet at Was.h.i.+ngton continual suggestions, for it was well understood that the _Continental_ was read by all influential Republicans. A contributor had sent us a very important article indeed, pointing out that there was all through the South, from the Mississippi to the sea, a line of mountainous country in which there were few or no slaves, and very little attachment to the Confederacy. This article, which was extensively republished, attracted great attention. It gave great strength and encouragement to the grand plan of the campaign, afterwards realised by Sherman. By _official request_, to me directed, the author contributed a second article on the subject. These articles were extensively circulated in pamphlet form or widely copied by the press, and created a great sensation, forming, in fact, one of the great points made in influencing public opinion. Another of the same kind, but not ours, was the famous pamphlet by Charles Stille, of Philadelphia, ”How a Free People Conduct a Long War,” in which it was demonstrated that the man who can hold out longest in a fight has the best chance, which simple truth made, however, an incredible popular impression. Gilmore and our friends succeeded, in fact, in making the _Continental Magazine_ ”respected at court.” But I kept my independence and principles, and thundered away so fiercely for _immediate_ emanc.i.p.ation that I was confidentially informed that Mr.

Seward once exclaimed in a rage, ”d.a.m.n Leland and his magazine!” But as he d.a.m.ned me only officially and in confidence, I took it in the Pickwickian sense. And at this time I realised that, though I was not personally very much before the public, I was doing great and good work, and, as I have said, a great many very distinguished persons expressed to me by letter or in conversation their appreciation of it; and some on the other side wrote letters giving it to me _per contra_, and one of these was Caleb Cus.h.i.+ng. Cus.h.i.+ng in Chinese means ”ancient glory,” but Caleb's renown was extinguished in those days.

I may add that not only did H. W. Longfellow express to me his sympathy for and admiration of my efforts to aid the Union cause, but at one time or another all of my literary friends in Boston, who perfectly understood and showed deep interest in what I was doing. Which can be well believed of a city in which, above all others in the world, everybody sincerely aims at culture and knowledge, the first principle of which--inspired by praiseworthy local patriotism--is to know and take pride in what is done in Boston by its natives.

V. LIFE DURING THE CIVIL WAR AND ITS SEQUENCE. 1862-1866.

Boston in 1862--Kind friends--Literary circles--Emerson, O. W. Holmes, Lowell, E. P. Whipple, Aga.s.siz, &c.--The Sat.u.r.day dinners--The printed autograph--The days of the Dark Shadow--Lowell and Hosea Biglow--I am a.s.sured that the _Continental Magazine_ advanced the period of Emanc.i.p.ation--I return to Philadelphia--My pamphlet on ”Centralisation _versus_ States Rights”--Its Results--Books--Ping-Wing--The Emergency--I enter an artillery company--Adventures and comrades--R. W. Gilder--I see rebel scouts near Harrisburg--The sh.e.l.ling of Carlisle--Incidents--My brother receives his death-wound at my side--Theodore Fa.s.sitt--Stewart Patterson--Exposure and hunger--The famous bringing-up of the cannon--Picturesque scenery--The battle of Gettysburg--The retreat of Lee--Incidents--Return home--Cape May--The beautiful Miss Vining--Solomon the Sadducee--General Carrol Tevis--The Sanitary Fair--The oil mania--The oil country--Colonel H. Olcott, the theosophist--Adventures and odd incidents in Oil-land--Nashville--Dangers of the road--A friend in need--I act as unofficial secretary and legal adviser to General Whipple--Freed slaves--_Inter arma silent leges_--Horace Harrison--Voodoo--Captain Joseph R. Paxton--Scouting for oil and shooting a brigand--Indiana in winter--Charleston, West Virginia--Back and forth from Providence to the debated land--The murder of A. Lincoln--Goshorn--Up Elk River in a dug- out--A charmed life--Sam Fox--A close shot--Meteorological sorcery--A wild country--Marvellous scenery--I bore a well--Robert Hunt--Horse adventures--The panther--I am suspected of being a rebel spy--The German apology--Cincinnati--Niagara--A summer at Lenox, Ma.s.s.--A MS. burnt.

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