The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. 92, June, 1865: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
History
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. 92, June, 1865: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
The day was a busy one; for little squads of regulars were sent out on
the Maryland Heights to search for the stores accumulated there; and
each foraging party was followed by a tail of stragglers from all the
volunteers on the ground, who valiantly kept on to the Maryland side of
the bridge that crossed the Potomac, and then, their courage oozing out
of their fingers and toes both, stopped there and waited for the return
of the regulars. On the instant of their arrival, each time fetching a
great hay-wagon full of captured goods, tents, picks, spades, pikes, the
tag-rag and bobtail party at once set to work to help themselves to the
nearest articles, and were soon seen making off homeward with their
contraband of war on their backs. The plunder, however, was not confined
to the captured property. A strong force of militia soon invaded the
armory, and every man helped himself to a rifle and a brace of pistols,
and then, tiring of the load, began to chaffer and bargain for their
sale. Governor Wise was called on to interfere and preserve the
Government property; he came into the little inclosure of the works, and
began an eloquent address, but seeing its uselessness, broke off and put
his Richmond Grays on guard; and then the distribution of public
property was made through the regular channels,--that is, the men inside
brought guns and pistols to the men on guard, and they passed them out
to their friends beyond, so that the trade went on almost as free as
ever.
Night soon came, and it was made hideous by the drunken noise and
turmoil of the crowd in the village; matters were made worse, too, by
the Governor's order to impress all the horses; and the decent, sober
men trudged home rather out of humor with their patriotic sacrifice;
while the tipsy and pot-valiant militia fought and squabbled with each
other, and only ceased that sport to pursue and hunt down some fugitive
negroes, and one or two half-maddened drunken fellows who in their
frenzy proclaimed themselves John Brown's men. Tired out at last, the
Governor took refuge in the Wager House;--for an hour or two, he had
stood on the porch haranguing an impatient crowd as "Sons of Virginia!"
Within doors the scene was stranger still. Huddled together in the worst
inn's worst room, the Governor and his staff at a table with tallow
candles guttering in the darkness, the Richmond Grays lying around the
floor in picturesque and (then) novel pursuit of soft planks, a motley
audience was gathered together to hear the papers captured at John
Brown's house--the Kennedy farm on Maryland Heights--read out with the
Governor's running comments. The purpose of all this was plain enough.
It was meant to serve as proof of a knowledge and instigation of the
raid by prominent persons and party-leaders in the North. The most
innocent notes and letters, commonplace newspaper-paragraphs and printed
cuttings, were distorted and twisted by the reading and by the talking
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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