<h2 id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</h2>
<blockquote>
<p class="hang">Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-three—A Popular Prophecy—Gen. Burnside
relieved and Gen. Hooker appointed—Battle of Chancellorsville—The
Rebels invade Pennsylvania—Battle of Gettysburg—Lincoln’s Speech at
Gettysburg—Grant takes Vicksburg—Port Hudson—Battle of Chattanooga—New
York Riots—The French in Mexico—Troubles in Missouri.</p>
</blockquote>
<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">There</span> was, during the rebellion, a popular rhyme
declaring that “In Sixty-one, the war begun; in
Sixty-two, we’ll put it through; in Sixty-three, the
nigger’ll be free; in Sixty-four, the war’ll be o’er—and
Johnny come marching home.” The predictions
were substantially fulfilled. On January 1st, 1863,
nearly 4,000,000 slaves who had been merchandise
became men in the sight of the law, and the war,
having been literally “put through” with great
energy, was beginning to promise a definite success
to the Federal cause. But the Union owed this
advance less to its own energy than to the great-hearted,
patient, and honest man who was at its
head, and who was more for his country and less for
himself than any one who had ever before waded
through the mud of politics to so high a position.
That so tender-hearted a man should have been so
firm in great trials, is the more remarkable when we
remember that his gentleness often interfered with
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span>
justice. When the rebels, by their atrocities to the
black soldiers who fell into their hands, caused him
to issue an order (July 30th, 1863), declaring that
“for every soldier of the United States killed in
violation of the laws of war a rebel soldier shall be
executed, and for every one sold into slavery a rebel
soldier shall be placed at hard labour,” it seemed as
if vigorous retaliation was at last to be inflicted.
“But,” as Ripley and Dana state, “Mr. Lincoln’s
natural tender-heartedness prevented him from ever
ordering such an execution.”</p>
<p>Lincoln having discovered in the case of M‘Clellan
that incompetent or unlucky generals could be
“relieved” without endangering the country, General
Burnside, after the disaster of Fredericksburg, was
set aside (January 24th, 1863), and General Joseph
Hooker appointed in his place to command the army
of the Potomac. From the 27th of April, General
Hooker advanced to Kelly’s Ford, and thence to
Chancellorsville. A force under General Stoneman
had succeeded in cutting the railroad in the rear of
the rebels, so as to prevent their receiving reinforcements
from Richmond, General Hooker intending to
attack them flank and rear. On the 2nd May, he
met the enemy at Chancellorsville, where, after a
terrible battle, which continued with varying success
for three days, he was compelled to withdraw his
army to the north bank of the Rappahannock, having
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span>
lost nearly 18,000 men. The rebel loss was also
very large. General Stonewall Jackson was killed
through an accidental shot from one of his own men.
Inspired by this success, the Confederate General
Lee resolved to move into the enemy’s country. On
the 9th June, he advanced north-west to the valley
of the Shenandoah. On the 13th, the rebel General
Ewell, with a superior force, attacked and utterly
defeated General Milroy at Winchester. On the
14th July, the rebel army marched into Maryland,
with the intention of invading Pennsylvania. A
great excitement sprung up in the North. In a few
days the President issued a proclamation, calling for
120,000 troops from the states most in danger. They
were promptly sent, and, in addition to these, thousands
formed themselves into improvised companies
and hurried off to battle—for in those days almost
every man, at one time or another, had a turn at
the war, the writer himself being one of those who
went out in this emergency. The danger was indeed
great, and had Lee been the Napoleon which his
friends thought him, he might well enough have
advanced to Philadelphia. That on one occasion three
of his scouts came within sight of Harrisburg I am
certain, having seen them with my own eyes, though
no one then deemed it credible. But two years after,
when I mentioned it to a wounded Confederate
Colonel who had come in to receive parole in West
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span>
Virginia, he laughed, and assured me that, on the
day of which I spoke, three of his men returned,
boasting that they had been in sight of Harrisburg,
but that, till he heard my story, he had never believed
them. And this was confirmed by another Confederate
officer who was with him. On the evening
of that day on which I saw the scouts, there was a
small skirmish at Sporting Hill, six miles south of
Harrisburg, in which two guns from the artillery
company to which I belonged took part, and this
was, I believe, the only fighting which took place so
far north during the war.</p>
<p>And now there came on the great battle of Gettysburg,
which proved to be the turning-point of the
whole conflict between North and South. For our
army, as soon as the rebels advanced north, advanced
with them, and when they reached Hagerstown,
Maryland, the Federal headquarters were at Frederick
City, our whole force, as Raymond states, being thus
interposed between the rebels and Baltimore and
Washington. On that day, General Hooker was
relieved from command of the army, and General
Meade appointed in his place. This was a true-hearted,
loyal soldier and gallant gentleman, but by
no means hating the rebels so much at heart as to
wish to “improve them all away from the face of
the earth,” as General Birney and others of the
sterner sort would have gladly done. General Meade
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span>
at once marched towards Harrisburg, upon which
the enemy was also advancing. On the 1st July,
Generals Howard and Reynolds engaged the Confederates
near Gettysburg, but the foe being strongly
posted, and superior in numbers, compelled General
Howard to fall back to Cemetery Hill, around which
all the corps of the Union army soon gathered.
About three o’clock, July 2nd, the rebels came down
in terrible force and with great fury upon the 3rd
Corps, commanded by General Sickles, who soon
had his leg shot off. As the corps seemed lost,
General Birney, who succeeded him, was urged to
fall back, but he, as one who knew no fear—being a
grim fanatic—held his ground with the most desperate
bravery till reinforced by the 1st and 6th Corps. The
roar of the cannon in this battle was like the sound
of a hundred thunderstorms, when, at one o’clock on
the 3rd July, the enemy opened an artillery fire on
us from 150 guns for two hours, we replying with
100; and I have been assured that, on this occasion,
the wild rabbits, losing all fear of man in their
greater terror at this horrid noise, ran for shelter,
and leaped into the bosoms of the gunners. Now
the battle raged terribly, as it did the day before,
when General Wadsworth, of New York, went into
fight with nearly 2000 men and came out with 700.
Hancock was badly wounded. The rebels fought
up to the muzzles of our guns, and killed the artillery
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span>
horses, as many can well remember. And the fight
was hand-to-hand when Sedgwick came up with his
New Yorkers, who, though they had marched thirty-two
miles in seventeen hours, dashed in desperately,
hurrahing as if it were the greatest frolic in the world.
And this turned the fight. The rebel Ewell now
attacked the right, which had been weakened to
support the centre, and the fighting became terrible;
but the 1st and 6th again came to the rescue, and
drove them back, leaving great heaps of dead. Of
all the soldiers I ever found these New Yorkers the
most courteous in camp and the gayest under privations
or in battle. On the 4th July, General Slocum
made an attack at daybreak on Ewell, who commanded
Stonewall Jackson’s men, but Ewell, after a
desperate resistance, was at length beaten.</p>
<p>The victory was complete, but terrible. On the
Union side were 23,000 killed, wounded, and missing,
and the losses of the rebels were even greater, General
Lee leaving in our hands 13,621 prisoners. Lee was
crushed, but General Meade, in the words of Arnold,
“made no vigorous pursuit. Had Sheridan or Grant
commanded in place of Meade, Lee’s army would
never have recrossed the Potomac.” It is said that
President Lincoln was greatly grieved at this oversight,
and once, when asked if at any time the war
might have been sooner terminated by better management,
he replied, “Yes, at Malvern Hill, where
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span>
M‘Clellan failed to command an immediate advance
upon Richmond; at Chancellorsville, when Hooker
failed to reinforce Sedgwick; and at Gettysburg,
when Meade failed to attack Lee in his retreat at
the bend of the Potomac.”</p>
<p>It is said that General Meade did not know, until
long after Lee had crossed (July 14th, 1863), or late
in the morning, that he had done so. Now I knew,
as did all with me, at two o’clock the day before
(July 13th), when General Lee would cross. We
knew that we could not borrow an axe from any
country house, because the rebels had taken them all
to make their bridge with; for I myself went to
several for an axe, and could not get one. During
the night, I was awake on guard within a mile or
very little more of the crossing, and could hear the
thunder and rattle of the rebel ambulances and
caissons in headlong haste, and the groans of the
wounded, to whom the rebels gave little care. If
General Meade knew nothing of all this, there were
hundreds in his army who did. But the truth is,
that as General Meade was one who would never
strike a man when he was down, so, in the entire
chivalry of his nature, he would not pursue a flying
and conquered foe. This was to be expected from
one who was the Sidney of our war, and yet it was
but mistaken policy for an enemy which wore ornaments
made of the bones of Federal soldiers, whose
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span>
women abused prisoners, and whose programme,
published before the war began, advocated the shooting
of pickets. Such a foe requires a Cromwell, and
in Grant they got him.</p>
<p>During this summer of 1863, a part of the battle-field
was bought by the State of Pennsylvania, and
kept for a burial-ground for those who had fallen in
the fight. On November 19th, 1863, it was duly
consecrated with solemn ceremonies, on which occasion
President Lincoln made a brief address, which has
been thought, perhaps not without reason, to be the
finest ever delivered on such an occasion.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought
forth upon this continent a new nation conceived in liberty,
and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created
equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing
whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so
dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field
of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of
that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave
their lives that the nation might live. It is altogether fitting
and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense
we cannot dedicate—we cannot consecrate—we cannot
hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who
struggled here, have consecrated it far above our power to
add or detract. The world will little note, nor long
remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what
they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated
here to the unfinished work which they who fought here
have thus so far nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span>
here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that
from these honoured dead we take increased devotion to the
cause for which they here gave the last full measure of
devotion—that we here highly resolve that the dead shall
not have died in vain—that the nation shall, under God,
have a new birth of freedom—and that the Government
of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not
perish from the earth.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>These simple yet grand words greatly moved his
hearers, and among the thousands could be heard
sobs and broken cheers. On this occasion, Edward
Everett, “New England’s most polished and graceful
orator,” also spoke. And this was the difference
between them—that while Everett made those present
think only of him living in their admiration of his art,
the listeners forgot Lincoln, and wept in thinking of
the dead. But it is to Mr. Everett’s credit that on this
occasion, speaking to the President, he said, “Ah!
Mr. Lincoln, how gladly would I exchange my
hundred pages to have been the author of your
twenty lines.”</p>
<p>Meanwhile, the army of the West had been far
from idle. The great Mississippi, whose arms reach
to sixteen states, was held by the rebels, who thus
imprisoned the North-West. Those who ask why
the Confederacy was not allowed to withdraw in
peace, need only look at the map of North America
for an answer. And to President Lincoln belongs
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span>
specially the credit of having planned the great
campaign which freed the Mississippi. He was constantly
busy with it; “his room,” says Arnold, “was
ever full of maps and plans; he marked upon them
every movement, and no subordinate was at all times
so completely a master of the situation.” He soon
appreciated the admirable qualities of the unflinching
Grant, and determined that he should lead this
decisive campaign in the West. General Grant had
many enemies, and some of them accused him of
habits of intemperance. To one of these, endeavouring
to thus injure the credit of the General, President
Lincoln said, “<i>Does</i> Grant get drunk?” “They say
so,” was the reply. “Are you <i>quite</i> sure he gets
drunk?” “Quite.” There was a pause, which the
President broke by gravely exclaiming, “I wonder
where he buys his whiskey!” “And why do you
want to know?” was the astonished answer. “Because
if I did,” replied Mr. Lincoln, “I’d send a barrel or
two of it round to some other Generals I know of.”</p>
<p>In January, 1863, Generals M‘Clernand and Sherman,
commanding the army of the Mississippi, acting
with the fleet under command of Admiral Porter,
captured Arkansas Post, with 7000 prisoners and
many cannon. On the 2nd February, General Grant
arrived near Vicksburg. His object was to get his
army below and behind this city, and the difficulties
in the way were enormous, as the whole vicinity of
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span>
the place “was a network of bayous, lakes, marshes,
and old channels of streams.” For weeks the
untiring Grant was baffled in his efforts to cut a
channel or find a passage, so as to approach the city
from the ridge in the rear. He was, as Washburne
said, “terribly in earnest.” He had neither horse,
nor servant, nor camp chest, nor for days even a
blanket. He fared like the commonest soldier under
his command, partaking the same rations, and sleeping
on the ground under the stars. After many
failures, the General, “with a persistence which has
marked his whole career, conceived a plan without
parallel in military history for its boldness and
daring.” This was briefly to march his army to a
point below Vicksburg, “then to run the bristling
batteries of that rebel Gibraltar, exposed to its
hundreds of heavy guns, with his transports, and then
to cross the Mississippi below Vicksburg, and, returning,
attack that city in the rear.” The crews of the
very frail Mississippi steamboats, aware of the danger,
with one exception, refused to go. But when Grant
called for volunteers, there came from his army such
numbers of pilots, engineers, firemen, and deck-hands,
that he had to select by lot those who were to sail
on this forlorn hope. And they pressed into the
desperate undertaking with such earnestness, that
great numbers offered all their money for a chance
in this lottery of death, as much as 100 dollars in
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span>
United States currency being offered and refused
by those who had had the luck to get what seemed
to be a certainty to lose their lives. And these men
truly rode into the jaws of death, believing long
beforehand that there was very little hope for any
one to live. Into the night they sailed in dead
silence, and then, abreast of the city, there came from
the batteries such a blaze of fire and such a roar of
artillery as had seldom been seen or heard in the
war. The gunboats fired directly on the city; the
transports went on at full speed, and the troops
were landed. But this was only the first step in a
tremendous drama. The battle at the taking of
Fort Gibson was the next. Now Grant found himself
in the enemy’s country, between two fortified
cities, with two armies, greatly his superior in numbers,
against him. Then followed battle after battle, and
“rapid marches, brilliant with gallant charges and
deeds of heroic valour, winning victories in quick
succession—at Raymond on the 12th, at Jackson the
capital of Mississippi on the 14th, at Baker’s Creek
on the 16th, at Big Block River on the 17th, and
finally closing with driving the enemy into Vicksburg,
and completely investing the city.” The whole
South was in terror, and Jefferson Davis sent messages
far and wide, imploring every rebel to hasten to
Vicksburg. It was all in vain. After desperately
assaulting the city without success, Grant resolved
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span>
on a regular siege. “Then, with tireless energy, with
sleepless vigilance night and day, with battery and
rifle, with trench and mine, the army made its
approaches, until the enemy, worn out with fatigue,
exhausted of food and ammunition, and driven to
despair, finally laid down their arms,” Grant sternly
refusing, as was his wont, any terms to the conquered.
By this capture, with its accompanying engagements,
the rebels lost 37,000 prisoners and 10,000 killed and
wounded. The joy which this victory excited all
through the Union was beyond description. President
Lincoln wrote to General Grant a letter which
was creditable to his heart. In it he frankly confessed
that Grant had understood certain details
better than himself. “I wish to make personal
acknowledgment,” he said, “that you were right and
I was wrong.”</p>
<p>In this war the rebels set the example of greatly
encouraging irregular cavalry and guerillas, having
always an idea that the Northern army would be
exterminated in detail by sharp-shooters, and cut
to pieces with bowie-knives. This, more than any
other cause, led to their own ruin, for all such troops
in a short time became mere brigands, preying on
friends as well as foes. On both sides there were
dashing raids, and at first the rebels, having better
cavalry, had the best of it. But as the war went on,
there were great changes. Cavalry soldiers from
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span>
horses often came to mules, or even down to their
own legs; while infantry, learning that riding was
easier than walking, and horse-stealing as easy as
either, transformed themselves into cavalry, without
reporting the change to the general in command, and
if they had done so, the chances are ten to one he
and all his staff would have been found mounted on
just such unpaid-for steeds. If the rebels Ashley,
Morgan, and Stewart set fine examples in raiding,
they were soon outdone by Phil Sheridan and Kilpatrick—who
was as good an orator as soldier, and
who once, when surprised by the rebels, fought and
won a battle in his shirt—or Custer and Grierson,
Dahlgren and Pleasanton. Of this raiding and
robbing it may be truly said that, while the South
taught the trick, it did, after all, but nibble at the
edges of the Northern cake, while the Federals sliced
theirs straight through.</p>
<p>General Banks, who had succeeded General Butler
in the Department of the Gulf, invested Port Hudson.
The siege lasted until May 8th, and during the attack,
the black soldiers, who had been slaves, fought with
desperate courage, showing no fear whatever. In
America we had been so accustomed to deny all
manliness to the negro, that few believed him capable
of fighting, though many thought otherwise near
Nashville in 1864, when they saw whole platoons of
black soldiers lying dead in regular rows, just as they
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span>
had been shot down facing the enemy. Even the
common soldiers opposed the use of black troops,
until the idea rose slowly on their minds that a negro
was not only as easy to hit as a white man, but much
more likely to attract a bullet from the chivalry. As
I once heard a soldier say, “I used to be opposed to
having black troops, but yesterday, when I saw ten
cart-loads of dead niggers carried off the field, I
thought it better they should be killed than I.” Of
this tender philanthropy, which was willing to let
the negro buy a place in the social scale at the
expense of his life, there was a great deal in the
army, especially among the Union-men of the South-West,
who, while brave as lions or grizzly bears, were
yet prudent as prairie-dogs, as all true soldiers should
be. This charge of the Black Regiment at Port
Hudson was made the subject of a poem by
George H. Boker, which became known all over the
country.</p>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">“Now,” the flag-sergeant cried,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">“Though death and hell betide,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Let the whole nation see<br/></span>
<span class="i0">If we are fit to be<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Free in this land; or bound<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Down, like the whining hound—<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Bound with red stripes of pain<br/></span>
<span class="i0">In our old chains again!”<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Oh, what a shout there went<br/></span>
<span class="i0">From the Black Regiment!<br/></span>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span>
<span class="i0">“Freedom!” their battle-cry—<br/></span>
<span class="i0">“Freedom! or leave to die!”<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Ah! and <i>they meant</i> the word<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Not as with us ’tis heard.<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Not a mere party shout,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">They gave their spirits out;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Trusted the end to God,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">And on the gory sod<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Rolled in triumphant blood.<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Glad to strike one free blow,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Whether for weal or woe;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Glad to breathe one free breath,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Though on the lips of death.<br/></span>
<span class="i0">This was what “Freedom” lent<br/></span>
<span class="i0">To the Black Regiment.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Hundreds on hundreds fell;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">But they are resting well;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Scourges and shackles strong<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Never shall do them wrong.<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Oh, to the living few,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Soldiers, be just and true;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Hail them as comrades tried,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Fight with them side by side;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Never, in field or tent,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Scorn the Black Regiment.<br/></span></div>
</div></div>
<p>On the 9th July, Port Hudson surrendered to
General Banks, yielding over 5000 prisoners and fifty
pieces of artillery. And now, from the land of snow
to the land of flowers, the whole length of the Mississippi
was once more beneath the old flag, and <i>free</i>.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span></p>
<p>Meanwhile, there was hard fighting in Tennessee.
After a battle at Murfreesboro’, and the seizure of
that place, the Union General Rosencranz (January
5th, 1863) remained quiet, till, in June, he compelled
General Bragg to retreat across the Cumberland
Mountains to Chattanooga. By skilful management,
he compelled the Confederates to evacuate this town.
They had thus been skilfully drawn from East
Tennessee, which was occupied by General Burnside.
Both Rosencranz and the rebel Bragg were now
largely reinforced, the former by General Hooker.
At Vicksburg, Grant had taken 37,000 prisoners,
which he had set free on parole, on condition that
they should not fight again during the war; but
these men were promptly sent to reinforce Bragg.
September 19, these opposing forces began the battle
of Chicamauga, in which the Union troops achieved
a dearly-bought victory, though the enemy retreated
by night. The Federal loss was 16,351 killed,
wounded, and missing; that of the rebels, as stated
in their return, was 18,000.</p>
<p>October 19th, 1863, General Grant assumed full
command of the Departments of Tennessee, the
Cumberland, and Ohio, Thomas holding under him
the first, and Sherman the second. After the
desperate battle of Chicamauga, Thomas followed
Rosencranz to Chattanooga, and the rebels invested
the place. In October, Rosencranz was relieved.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span>
Grant arrived on the 18th, and found the enemy
occupying the steep and rocky Missionary Ridge and
Lookout Mountain, on whose summit they sat like
eagles. Grant had under him General Thomas, the
invincible Sheridan, Hooker—who, as a hard-fighting
corps-commander, was without an equal—Howard
and Blair. This battle of Chattanooga, in which the
Union army charged with irresistible strength, and
the storming of Lookout Mountain, formed, as has
been said, the most dramatic scene of the war.
There was desperate fighting above the clouds, and
advancing through the mist, made denser by the
smoke of thousands of guns. The Union loss in this
battle was 5286 killed and wounded, and 330 missing;
that of the Confederates about the same, but losing
in prisoners 6242, with forty cannon. Thus Tennessee
was entirely taken, in gratitude for which
President Lincoln issued a proclamation, appointing
a day of thanksgiving for this great victory.</p>
<p>In the July of this year, John Morgan, the guerilla,
made a raid, with 4000 men, into Ohio—not to fight,
but to rob, burn, and murder. He did much damage;
but before he could recross the river, his men were
utterly routed, and the pious Colonel Shackelford
announced in a despatch, “By the blessing of
Almighty God, I have succeeded in capturing General
John Morgan, Colonel Chike, and the remainder of
the command.” President Lincoln, when informed
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span>
soon after of the death of this cruel brigand, said,
“Well, I wouldn’t crow over anybody’s death, but I
can take this as resignedly as any dispensation of
Providence.”</p>
<p>A draft for militia had been ordered (March 3rd,
1863), and passed with little trouble, save in New
York, where an immense number of the dangerous
classes and foreigners of the lowest order, headed by
such demagogues as Fernando Wood, sympathised
with the South, and controlled the elections. There
was a wise and benevolent clause in this draft, which
exempted from conscription any one who would pay
to Government 300 dollars. The practical result of
this clause was that plenty of volunteers were always
ready to go for this sum, which fixed the price of a
substitute and prevented fraud; and in all the wards,
the inhabitants, by making up a joint fund, were able
to exempt any dweller in the ward from service, as
there were always poor men enough glad to go for
so much money. But in New York the mob was
stirred up to believe that this was simply an exemption
for the rich, and a terrible riot ensued, which
was the one effort made by the Copperheads during
the war to assist their Confederate friends by violence.
During the four days that it lasted, the most horrible
outrages were committed, chiefly upon the helpless
blacks of the city, though many houses belonging to
prominent Union-men were burned or sacked. As
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span>
all the troops had been sent away to defend the
Border and repel the rebels, there was no organised
force to defend the city. After the first day the
draft was forgotten, and thousands of the vilest
wretches of both sexes gave themselves up simply to
plunder, outrage, and murder. The mob attacked
the coloured half-orphan asylum, in which nearly 800
black children were sheltered, and set fire to it,
burning thirty of the children alive, and sadly abusing
the rest. Insane with cruelty, they caught and killed
every negro they could find. In one case, they hung
a negro, and then kindled a fire under him. This
riot was stirred up by rebel agents, who hoped to
make a diversion in the free states in favour of their
armies, and influence the elections. It did cause the
weakening of the army of Meade, since many troops
were promptly sent back to New York. There was
also a riot in Boston, which was soon repressed.
The rebels, while following out the recommendation
of Jefferson Davis, had gone too far, even for his
interest. He had urged pillage and incendiarism;
but the Copperheads of New York found out that a
mob once in motion plunders friend and foe indiscriminately.
The Governor of New York, Seymour,
was in a great degree responsible for all these
outrages by his vigorous opposition to the draft, and
by the feeble tone of his remonstrances, which suggested
sympathy and encouragement for the rioters.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span>
The arrival of troops at once put a stop to the
riots.</p>
<p>One of the most annoying entanglements of 1863
for the Government of the United States was the
presence of a French army in Mexico, ostensibly to
enforce the rights of French citizens there, but in
reality to establish the Archduke Maximilian as its
emperor. It was given out that permanent occupation
was not intended; but as it became apparent
to Mr. Dayton, our Minister at Paris, that the French
actually had in view a kingdom in Mexico, and as it
had always been an understood principle of American
diplomacy that the United States would avoid
meddling in European affairs, on condition that no
European Government should set up a kingdom on
our continent, the position of our Administration was
thus manifested—</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“The United States have neither the right nor the disposition
to intervene by force on either side in the lamentable
war which is going on between France and Mexico.
On the contrary, they practise, in regard to Mexico, in every
phase of that war, the non-intervention which they require
all foreign powers to observe in regard to the United States.
But, notwithstanding this self-restraint, this Government
knows full well that the inherent normal opinion of Mexico
favours a government there, republican in its form and
domestic in its organisation, in preference to any monarchical
institutions to be imposed from abroad. This Government
knows also that this normal opinion of the people of
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span>
Mexico resulted largely from the influence of popular
opinion in this country, and is continually invigorated by it.
The President believes, moreover, that this popular opinion
of the United States is just in itself, and eminently essential
to the progress of civilisation on the American continent,
which civilisation, it believes, can and will, if left free from
European resistance, work harmoniously together with
advancing refinement on the other continents....
Nor is it necessary to practise reserve upon the point that
if France should, upon due consideration, determine to
adopt a policy in Mexico adverse to the American opinion
and sentiments which I have described, that policy would
probably scatter seeds which would be fruitful of jealousies
which might ultimately ripen into collision between France
and the United States and other American republics.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The French Government was anxious that the
United States should recognise the Government of
Maximilian, but its unfriendly and unsympathetic
disposition towards the Federal Government was
perfectly understood, and “the action of the Administration
was approved of by the House of Representatives
in a resolution of April 4th, 1864.”</p>
<p>Eighteen hundred and sixty-three had, however,
much greater political trouble, the burden of
which fell almost entirely on President Lincoln.
The Emancipation principles were not agreeable
to the most ultra Abolitionists, who were willing
at one time to let the South secede rather than
be linked to slavery, and who at all times, in
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span>
their impatience of what was undeniably a terrible
evil, regarded nothing so much as the welfare of the
slaves. Time has since shown that Emancipation,
which in its broad views included the interests of both
white and black, was by far the wisest for both. In
Missouri, these differences of opinion were fomented
by certain occurrences into painful discord among
the Union-men. In 1861, General Fremont, having
military command of the state, proclaimed that he
assumed the administrative power, thus entirely
superseding the civil rulers. General Fremont, it
will be remembered, also endeavoured, by freeing the
slaves, to take to himself functions belonging only to
the President. He, like General M‘Clellan, affected
great state, and before his removal (November 2nd,
1863), was censured by the War Office for lavish
and unwarranted expenditures, which was significant
indeed in the most extravagantly expensive war of
modern times. Fremont’s removal greatly angered his
friends, especially the Germans. On the other hand,
General Halleck, who succeeded General Hunter—who
had been <i>locum tenens</i> for only a few days after
Fremont’s removal—made bad worse by excluding
fugitive slaves from his lines. All this was followed by
dissensions between General Gamble, a gradual Emancipationist,
and General Curtis, who had been placed
in command (September 19th, 1863) when the states
of Missouri, Kansas, and Arkansas were formed into
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span>
a military district. During the summer, the Union
army being withdrawn to Tennessee, Kansas and
Missouri were overrun by bands of guerillas, under
an infamous desperado named Colonel Quantrill,
whose sole aim was robbery, murder, and outrage,
and who made a speciality of burning churches.
This brigand, acting under Confederate orders, thus
destroyed the town of Lawrence, Kansas. For this,
Government was blamed, and the dissensions grew
worse. Therefore, General Curtis was removed, and
General Schofield put in his place, which gave rise to
so many protests, that President Lincoln, at length
fairly roused, answered one of these remonstrances
as follows:—</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“It is very painful to me that you in Missouri can not
or will not settle your factional quarrel among yourselves.
I have been tormented with it beyond endurance, for
months, by both sides. Neither side pays the least respect
to my appeals to your reason. I am now compelled to
take hold of the case.</p>
<p>“<span class="smcap">A. Lincoln.</span>”<br/></p>
</blockquote>
<p>These unreasonable quarrels lasted for a long time,
and were finally settled by the appointment of
General Rosencranz. No fault was found with
General Schofield—in fact, in his first order, General
Rosencranz paid a high tribute to his predecessor, for
the admirable state in which he found the business
of the department. So the difficulties died. In the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span>
President’s letter to General Schofield, when appointed,
he had said, “If both factions, or neither,
abuse you, you will probably be about right. Beware
of being assailed by one and praised by the other.”
Judged by his own rule in this case, says Holland,
the President was as nearly right as he could be, for
both sides abused him thoroughly. It may be added
that, having scolded him to their hearts’ content, and
declared him to be a copy of all the Neros, Domitians,
and other monsters of antiquity, the Missouri
Unionists all wheeled into line and voted unanimously
for him at the next Presidential election, as if nothing
had happened.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span></p>
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