To-day I devoted to packing up such things as I did not
require, and sending them to New York. I received a characteristic note from
General Scott, asking me to dine with him to-morrow, and apologizing for the
shortness of his invitation, which arose from his only having just heard that I
was about to leave so soon for the South. The General is much admired by his
countrymen, though they do not spare some “amiable weaknesses;” but, in my
mind, he can only be accused of a little vanity, which is often found in
characters of the highest standard. He likes to display his reading, and is
troubled with a desire to indulge in fine writing. Some time ago he wrote a
long letter to the “National Intelligencer,” in which he quoted Shakespeare and
Paley to prove that President Buchanan ought to have garrisoned the forts at
Charleston and Pensacola, as he advised him to do; and he has been the victim
of poetic aspirations. The General’s dinner hour was early; and when I arrived
at his modest lodgings, which, however, were in the house of a famous French
cook, I found a troop of mounted volunteers of the district, parading up and
down the street. They were not bad of their class, and the horses, though
light, were active, hardy, and spirited; but the men put on their uniforms
badly, wore long hair, their coats and buttons and boots were unbrushed, and
the horses' coats and accoutrements bore evidence of neglect. The General, who
wore an undress blue frock-coat, with eagle-covered brass buttons, and velvet
collar and cuffs, was with Mr. Seward and Mr. Bates, the Attorney-General, and
received me very courteously. He was interrupted by cheering from the soldiers
in the street, and by clamors for “General Scott.” He moves with difficulty,
owing to a fall from his horse, and from the pressure of increasing years; and
he evidently would not have gone out if he could have avoided it. But there is
no privacy for public men in America.
But the General went to them, and addressed a few words to
his audience in the usual style about “rallying round,” and “dying gloriously,”
and “old flag of our country,” and all that kind of thing; after which, the
band struck up “Yankee Doodle.” Mr. Seward called, out, “General, make them
play the ‘Star-Spangled Banner,’
and ‘Hail Columbia.’” And so I was treated to the strains of the old
bacchanalian chant, “When Bibo,” &c, which the Americans have impressed to
do duty as a national air. Then came an attempt to play “God save the Queen,”
which I duly appreciated as a compliment; and then followed dinner, which did
credit to the cook, and wine, which was most excellent, from France, Spain, and
Madeira. The only addition to our party was Major Cullum, aide-de-camp to
General Scott, an United States' engineer, educated at West Point. The General
underwent a little badinage about the phrase “a hasty plate of soup,” which he
used in one of his despatches during the Mexican War, and he appealed to me to
decide whether it was so erroneous or ridiculous as Mr. Seward insisted. I said
I was not a judge, but certainly similar liberal usage of a well-known figure
of prosody might be found to justify the phrase. The only attendants at table
were the General's English valet and a colored servant; and the table apparatus
which bore such good things was simple and unpretending. Of course the
conversation was of a general character, and the General, evidently picking out
his words with great precision, took the lead in it, telling anecdotes of great
length, graced now and then with episodes, and fortified by such episodes as — “Bear
with me, dear sir, for a while, that I may here diverge from the main current
of my story, and proceed to mention a curious” &c, and so on.
To me his conversation was very interesting, particularly that
portion which referred to his part in the last war, where he was wounded and
taken prisoner. He gave an account of the Battle of Chippewa, which was, he
said, fought on true scientific principles; and in the ignorance common to most
Englishmen of reverses to their arms, I was injudicious enough, when the battle
was at its height, and whole masses of men were moving in battalions and
columns over the table, to ask how many were engaged. The General made the most
of his side: “We had, sir, twenty-one hundred and seventy-five men in the
field.” He told us how, when the British men-of-war provoked general
indignation in Virginia by searching American vessels for deserters in the
Chesapeake, the State of Virginia organized a volunteer force to guard the
shores, and, above all things, to prevent the country people sending down
supplies to the vessels, in pursuance of the orders of the Legislature and
Governor. Young Scott, then reading for the bar, became corporal of a troop of
these patrols. One night, as they were on duty by the banks of the Potomac,
they heard a boat with muffled oars coming rapidly down the river, and soon saw
her approaching quite close to the shore under cover of the trees. When she was
abreast of the troopers, Scott challenged “What boat is that?””It's His Majesty's
ship ‘Leopard,’ and what the d----- is that to you? Give way, my lads!” “I at once
called on him to surrender,” said the General, “and giving the word to charge,
we dashed into the water. Fortunately, it was not deep, and the midshipman in
charge, taken by surprise by a superior force, did not attempt to resist us. We
found the boat manned by four sailors, and filled with vegetables and other
supplies, and took possession of it; and I believe it is the first instance of
a man-of-war's boat being captured by cavalry. The Legislature of Virginia,
however, did not approve of the capture, and the officer was given up accordingly.
“Many years afterwards, when I visited Europe, I happened to
be dining at the hospitable mansion of Lord Holland, and observed during the
banquet that a gentleman at table was scrutinizing my countenance in a manner
indicative of some special curiosity. Several times, as my eye wandered in his
direction, I perceived that he had been continuing his investigations, and at length
I rebuked him by a continuous glance. After dinner, this gentleman came round
to me and said, ‘General Scott, I hope you will pardon my rudeness in staring
at you, but the fact is that you bear a most remarkable resemblance to a great
overgrown, clumsy country fellow of the same name, who took me prisoner in my
boat when I was a midshipman in the “Chesapeake,” at the head of a body of
mounted men. He was, I remember quite well, Corporal Scott.’ ‘That Corporal
Scott, sir, and the individual who addresses you, are identical one with the
other.’ The officer whose acquaintance I thus so auspiciously renewed, was
Captain Fox, a relation of Lord Holland, and a post-captain in the British
navy.”
Whilst he was speaking, a telegraphic despatch was brought in,
which the General perused with evident uneasiness. He apologized to me for
reading it by saying the despatch was from the President on Cabinet business,
and then handed it across the table to Mr. Seward. The Secretary read it, and
became a little agitated, and raised his eyes inquiringly to the General's
face, who only shook his head. Then the paper was given to Mr. Bates, who read
it, and gave a grunt, as it were, of surprise. The General took back the paper,
read it twice over, and then folded it up and put it in his pocket. “You had better
not put it there, General,” interposed Mr. Seward; “it will be getting lost, or
in some other hands.” And so the General seemed to think, for he immediately
threw it into the fire, before which certain bottles of claret were gently
mellowing.
The communication was evidently of a very unpleasant
character. In order to give the Ministers opportunity for a conference, I asked
Major Cullum to accompany me into the garden, and lighted a cigar. As I was
walking about in the twilight, I observed two figures at the end of the little
enclosure, standing as if in concealment close to the wall. Major Cullum said, “The
men you see are sentries I have thought it expedient to place there for the
protection of the General. The villains might assassinate him, and would do it
in a moment if they could. He would not hear of a guard, nor anything of the
sort, so, without his knowing it, I have sentries posted all round the house
all night. This was a curious state of things for the commander of the American
army, in the midst of a crowded city, the capital of the free and enlightened
Republic, to be placed in! On our return to the sitting-room, the conversation
was continued some hour or so longer. I retired with Mr. Seward in his
carriage. As we were going up Pennsylvania Avenue — almost lifeless at that
time — I asked Mr. Seward whether he felt quite secure against any irruption
from Virginia, as it was reported that one Ben McCullough, the famous Texan
desperado, had assembled 500 men at Richmond for some daring enterprise: some
said to carry off the President, cabinet, and all. He replied that, although
the capital was almost defenceless, it must be remembered that the bold bad men
who were their enemies were equally unprepared for active measures of
aggression.
SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and
South, p. 72-5
