November 12, 1861, The New York Herald

The Rebels and Their Capital.—Notes of a Recent Tour in the South.

Three weeks ago I was in Richmond. How I came to be there, what I was doing, and how I made my way into the light of civilization and freedom, it is no part of my present purpose to state. Nor would it be safe or prudent for me to do so, because, the fates willing, it is my intention as it is an almost absolute necessity for met o be soon back again within the jurisdiction of Mr. Jefferson Davis. Enough to say that I spent several weeks recently in the capital of the Confederate States—for here I may say, in passing, that all over the South the pretty little city on the left bank of the James river is spoken of as capital, just as Washington used to be in the United States, and still is in the loyal portion thereof. I was not an idle or uninterested observer of men and things in and about Richmond, and in that section of the South through which I made way the border, and if you consider my observations of sufficient interest to deserve a corner of the HERALD, they are most willingly at your service.

Richmond and its Environs.

The principal feature that strikes every one who sees Richmond for the first time is its curious topography. From the James river, which, tumbling over its rocky bed, makes a wide bend here, with its convex face to the city, rise, without any regard to uniformity of direction, some half dozen hills, of gravel formation, and of pretty considerable elevation. There has never been any attempt to grade them into level streets, but the city is scattered promiscuously up and on and over them, just as fashion, taste or business may have happened to dictate. The principal part of the city, however, occupies actually only one of those elevations, and the garden spot of that one is the Capitol square, where stands the building of which Jefferson procured the design in France, but which, however magnificent it may have been deemed in the simple, unostentatious days in which it was built, is certainly not to be lauded now either for its beauty or for its adaptation to the wants of a State Legislature, much less to those of a Congress of Confederate States. Within the same enclosure is the Governor’s mansion, where poor John Letcher, badgered and bullied and blackguarded on all sides, resigns himself to his fate, and, if all be true that the Examiner charges, tries to beguile it with jolly living. In the centre of the square is the beautiful equestrian statue of Washington, looking as calm and serene and commanding as if the city which he overlooks was not the centre and hotbed of the foulest treason that ever showed itself in the light of day. The pedestal is designed for eight other statues of distinguished Virginians, but three of which have yet been put in their places. These are Jefferson, Henry and Mason, not the arrogant self-conceited blockhead who recently represented the State in the Senate at Washington, and has gone seeking recognition at London, as the diplomatic representative of secessiondom, but a far purer, wiser and more patriotic namesake of his. Here also is a small statue to Henry Clay.

The Union Prisoners of War

Richmond has really but one business thoroughfare. That is Main street. Most of the hotels, banks, newspaper offices and stores are located on it. It extends northward into the open country, and southeastward to a suburb called Rocketts. In this latter section of it are situated some of the tobacco warehouses where our Union prisoners are now confined. These are old brick edifices, of mouldy, dilapidated appearance. They stand together on one side of the street—which here is of a most dingy character—and two nearly opposite. Those on the north side are overlooked by the bluffs in which Church Hill here terminates, and which supply gravel for the city, while those on the south side of the street have the James river and Kanawha Canal, and the river itself immediately in their rear. I have often passed by these prison houses, and had my feelings lacerated by seeing the condition of the brave men who are suffering here for their loyalty and devotion to the country.

It is hard to find out anything relating to the affairs of the government, and inquisitiveness into public matters is not a safe weakness to indulge in. Observations have therefore to be made quietly, patiently, and on whatever slight data may be casually presented or acquired. My observation leads me to think that there are, on the average, two hundred men confined in each of these warehouses, huddled together, with not much more regard to health than a humane captain of a slaver would show to his freight of emigrants from the Congo river to the Havana. The lower floors are assigned to the officers, the windows being strongly grated; the upper ones are occupied by the rank and file of our men who fell into the rebels' hands at Manassas and elsewhere. The condition of all, officers and men, is pitiable and deplorable to the last degree, and not another day should be lost without our government adopting some means by which its faithful but unfortunate adherents in Richmond may be rescued from their miseries and restored to the light of freedom and the comforts of home. These men ought not to be sacrificed any longer to a mere diplomatic or political technicality. Humanity, reason, justice, common sense, all appeal in tones that should not be ignored, for a prompt termination to the senseless quibble of which those brave men are the victims. The rebellion can be quelled just as effectually after an exchange of prisoners is effected as before. I believe there are one or two other warehouses and mills in the western part of the city, near the canal basins, where more of our Union prisoners are confined. The bulk of them, however, have been sent further South.

Church Hill and the Hospitals

Near the summit of the elevation known as Church Hill is a large, old fashioned brick building known as the alms house. It has been converted from its original purpose, and now serves as an hospital for our sick and wounded. Sisters of Charity come and go, untiring angels of consolation, and the hearse is kept in constant requisition, so great is the mortality that prevails here. Many of the private houses in the vicinity are also converted into temporary hospitals. As a general thing, the former residents of this part of the city have gone elsewhere since the location of the hospitals here. The Odd Fellows' Hall, on Broad street; is also used as a general hospital.

A great deal of sickness prevails in the Confederate army. Some whole regiments have been completely ravaged by smallpox. Much of the sickness is ascribed to the putrefied state of the atmosphere around Manassas, arising from the unburied bodies of men and horses killed in the battle of Bull run; and great dissatisfaction was expressed against Beauregard for keeping his army there instead of advancing against Washington.

On the most commanding part of Church hill still stands, in good preservation too, the church in which Patrick Henry made the famous speech at the commencement of the Revolutionary struggle, where he used that memorable and oft-quoted phrase, "Give me liberty, or give me death." Around the church are the graves of the last generation of the people of Richmond, and I was no little disgusted to observe that few of the headstones had escaped the profane vandalism of some scoundrels, who, as a proof of their wit, cut a figure before the figures recording the ages of the deceased, making it appear that those who rested here from their labors had enjoyed an incredibly patriarchal length of years.