Part 23 (1/2)
_10th July_ (Friday).--The drive from Hanc.o.c.k to c.u.mberland is a very mountainous forty-four miles--total distance from Hagerstown, sixty-six miles. We met with no further adventure on the road, although the people were very inquisitive, but I never opened my mouth. One woman in particular, who kept a toll-bar, thrust her ugly old head out of an upper window, and yelled out, ”Air they a-fixin' for another battle out there?” jerking her head in the direction of Hagerstown. The driver replied that, although the bunch of rebels there was pretty big, yet he could not answer for their fixing arrangements, which he afterwards explained to me meant digging fortifications.
We arrived at c.u.mberland at 7 P.M. This is a great coal place, and a few weeks ago it was touched up by ”Imboden,” who burnt a lot of coal barges, which has rendered the people rabid against the Rebs. I started by stage for Johnstown at 8.30 P.M.
_11th July_ (Sat.u.r.day).--I hope I may never for my sins be again condemned to travel for thirty hours in an American stage on a used-up plank road. We changed carriages at Somerset. All my fellow-travellers were of course violent Unionists, and invariably spoke of my late friends as Rebels or Rebs. They had all got it into their heads that their Potomac army, not having been thoroughly thrashed, as it always has been hitherto, had achieved a tremendous victory; and that its new chief, General Meade, who in reality was driven into a strong position, which he had sense enough to stick to, is a wonderful strategist. They all hope that the remnants of Lee's army will not be allowed to ESCAPE over the Potomac; whereas, when I left the army two days ago, no man in it had a thought of escaping over the Potomac, and certainly General Meade was not in a position to attempt to prevent the pa.s.sage, if crossing had become necessary.
I reached Johnstown on the Pennsylvania Railway at 6 P.M., and found that town in a great state of excitement in consequence of the review of two militia companies, who were receiving garlands from the fair ladies of Johnstown in grat.i.tude for their daring conduct in turning out to resist Lee's invasion. Most of the men seemed to be respectable mechanics, not at all adapted for an early interview with the rebels.
The garlands supplied were as big and apparently as substantial as a s.h.i.+p's life-buoys, and the recipients looked particularly helpless after they had got them. Heaven help those Pennsylvanian braves if a score of Hood's Texans had caught sight of them!
Left Johnstown by train at 7.30 P.M., and, by paying half a dollar, I secured a berth in a sleeping-car--a most admirable and ingenious Yankee notion.
_12th July_ (Sunday).--The Pittsburg and Philadelphia Railway is, I believe, accounted one of the best in America, which did not prevent my spending eight hours last night off the line; but, being asleep at the time, I was unaware of the circ.u.mstance. Instead of arriving at Philadelphia at 6 A.M., we did not get there till 3 P.M. Pa.s.sed Harrisburg at 9 A.M. It was full of Yankee soldiers, and has evidently not recovered from the excitement consequent upon the late invasion, one effect of which has been to prevent the cutting of the crops by the calling out of the militia.
At Philadelphia I saw a train containing one hundred and fifty Confederate prisoners, who were being stared at by a large number of the _beau monde_ of Philadelphia. I mingled with the crowd which was chaffing them. Most of the people were good-natured, but I heard one suggestion to the effect that they should be taken to the river, ”and every mother's son of them drowned there.”
I arrived at New York at 10 P.M., and drove to the Fifth Avenue Hotel.
_13th July_ (Monday).--The luxury and comfort of New York and Philadelphia strike one as extraordinary after having lately come from Charleston and Richmond. The greenbacks seem to be nearly as good as gold. The streets are as full as possible of well-dressed people, and are crowded with able-bodied civilians capable of bearing arms, who have evidently no intention of doing so. They apparently _don't feel the war at all_ here; and until there is a grand smash with their money, or some other catastrophe to make them feel it, I can easily imagine that they will not be anxious to make peace.
I walked the whole distance of Broadway to the Consul's house, and nothing could exceed the apparent prosperity; the street was covered with banners and placards inviting people to enlist in various high-sounding regiments. Bounties of $550 were offered, and huge pictures hung across the street, on which numbers of ragged _greybacks_,[66] terror depicted on their features, were being pursued by the Federals.
On returning to the Fifth Avenue, I found all the shopkeepers beginning to close their stores, and I perceived by degrees that there was great alarm about the resistance to the draft which was going on this morning.
On reaching the hotel I perceived a whole block of buildings on fire close by: engines were present, but were not allowed to play by the crowd. In the hotel itself, universal consternation prevailed, and an attack by the mob had been threatened. I walked about in the neighbourhood, and saw a company of soldiers on the march, who were being jeered at and hooted by small boys, and I saw a negro pursued by the crowd take refuge with the military; he was followed by loud cries of ”Down with the b----y n.i.g.g.e.r! Kill all n.i.g.g.e.rs!” &c. Never having been in New York before, and being totally ignorant of the state of feeling with regard to negroes, I inquired of a bystander what the negroes had done that they should want to kill them? He replied, civilly enough--”Oh sir, they hate them here; they are the innocent cause of all these troubles.” Shortly afterwards, I saw a troop of citizen cavalry come up; the troopers were very gorgeously attired, but evidently experienced so much difficulty in sitting their horses, that they were more likely to excite laughter than any other emotion.
[66] The Northerners call the Southerners ”Greybacks,” just as the latter call the former ”Bluebellies,” on account of the colour of their dress.
_14th July_ (Tuesday).--At breakfast this morning two Irish waiters, seeing I was a Britisher, came up to me one after the other, and whispered at intervals in hoa.r.s.e Hibernian accents--”It's disgraceful, sir. I've been drafted, sir. I'm a Briton. I love my country. I love the Union Jack, sir.” I suggested an interview with Mr Archibald, but neither of them seemed to care about going to the _Counsel_ just yet.
These rascals have probably been hard at work for years, voting as free and enlightened American citizens, and abusing England to their hearts'
content.
I heard every one talking of the total demoralisation of the Rebels as a certain fact, and all seemed to antic.i.p.ate their approaching destruction. All this sounded very absurd to me, who had left Lee's army four days previously as full of fight as ever--much stronger in numbers, and ten times more efficient in every military point of view, than it was _when it crossed the Potomac to invade Maryland a year ago_. In its own opinion, Lee's army has not lost any of its prestige at the battle of Gettysburg, in which it most gallantly stormed strong intrenchments defended by the whole army of the Potomac, which never ventured outside its works, or approached in force within half a mile of the Confederate artillery.