8. CHAPTER VIII.
A MOB OF DESTRUCTIVES.
Returning to Senator Langdon, it is necessary that the
reader should be apprised of some of the changing scenes
of the awful panorama. Jack Bim, in pursuance of the
hint he had received from Wiry Willy, lost not a moment
in organizing a select party for a demonstration on the Rev.
Mr. Fire's church. The assault was completely successful.
More than $100,000 in plate and coin had been deposited
in the safe-keeping of the clerical party leader, and the
assailants were not only no respecters of persons, but had,
in reality, no party predilections. This predatory expedition,
and its remunerative result, when made known, produced
a wonderful effect upon the desperate rioters throughout
the city, as well as on the revengeful instigators of the
mob. It was perceived that the reckless sword of popular
violence, bloody and ungovernable, was liable to be turned
in any direction, and that those who wielded it one hour
might become its victims the next.
The Abolitionists were astounded. They beheld the
wind they had sown converted already into a whirlwind,
and directed against themselves. Tens of thousands of
rioters, incapable of comprehending a principle, floated with
every capricious current, or turned with every circling eddy.
Hundreds of free negroes, who had but a few hours before
participated freely in the demoniacal saturnalia, were now
lying dead and gory in the gutters, while the survivors of
that miserable race were flying for refuge into the forests
of New Jersey.
No doubt this great change in the popular sentiment
was partly owing to the vast numbers of desperate free-soil
recruits withdrawn from the city by General Ruffleton, for
his Southern invasion; and it was, in some degree, superinduced
by a spontaneous concert of action on the part of
the wealthy citizens and men of business for the protection
of their property; but the controlling causes were terror
and cupidity—apprehension that the party so audaciously
and so successfully despoiling the leaders of the Abolitionists,
might be the prepondering power, and if so, an irresistible
impulse to participate in its gains.
Meetings of the more substantial and respectable citizens
were held in every ward—but in such hurricanes of popular
phrensy, whatever may be the wisdom of the measures
recommended, it is often difficult to realize their adoption.
One thing, however, was quite apparent to all. The insane
populace had been taught by experience a proper respect
for the resolution and military skill of the adherents of the
President, guarding the Federal buildings. No less than
seven assaults of the mob had been promptly repulsed by
the comparatively small numbers of troops detailed for this
service; and all the bitter denunciations of the “tyrant”
at Washington uttered in mass meetings and in the streets,
had as yet amounted to nothing more than the expenditure
of so much idle breath. On the other hand, it was remarked
that the better classes, who desired the prevalence
of law and order in the city, however much they might be
exasperated against the Secessionists of the South, seemed
to regard with approbation the firm and resolute stand so
courageously maintained by the Federal Executive.
During the progress of this reaction and of these events
Mr. B— had been called away from the State House to
make speeches to the people in different quarters of the
city, and to exert his eloquence for the purpose of calming
the surges of the wild ocean of human passions. He had
been the friend of the colored man, and he boldly avowed
it; but, at the same time, he implored the mob to refrain
from acts of unlawful violence. All, except the colored
people themselves, listened with patience, and some with
favor. And it was on one of these occasions that the great
champion of the Africans endured the bitter penalty of
their native inferiority and ingratitude. Some five hundred
of this degraded class, who had on one occasion assembled
before his door, in Locust street, and made themselves
hoarse with cheers, because he had succeeded in the liberation
of a fugitive, now surrounded him with an intent to
inflict summary punishment for an alleged abandonment of
their cause, which merely consisted in his condemnation of
pillage, conflagration, and murder! And it was this very
act which caused the massacre of the free negroes.
Mr. B— returned to his charge, the unhappy Senator,
whom he found seated in the chair of Washington, a victim
of deep dejection. He thought of the illustrious men
who had once congregated in that hall to found a glorious
Republic—and such was the result! He, a descendant of
one of the worthies who had ushered into existence the inappreciable
boon of constitutional liberty, was now the captive
of an unfettered mob, composed of the offscouring of
all the nations!
“You are now at liberty, sir,” said Mr. B—. “None
are guarding the door. All are gone.”
“Then what means that uproar in the square?” asked
Mr. Langdon.
“It is a new set entirely—and mostly Democrats. The
reign of the fanatics is over; at least for the time being.
They are dispersed by enlistments, frightened away, or preparing
for another attack on the custom-house. But this
new brood now in possession of the Square, although they
belong to your party, have been quite as sanguinary as
their predecessors. They have been robbing churches and
cutting the throats of the free negroes. I have been requested
to address them; but it occurs to me that one of
their own politics could be more effective.”
“Mr. B—, my politics never sanctioned the burning of
churches and the cutting of throats. No; I cannot make
a speech! But I will go among them, hoping to hear something
of my daughter.”
They passed through the rear door of the State House,
and were in the midst of some ten thousand boisterous men,
cursing, laughing, hallooing, and disputing, while several
hundred carpenters were completing an immense row of
cages. The huge publisher had broken his bars, and was
now vowing vengeance; the profane politician had turned
his ass's heels to the front of his cage, and made him kick
off the timbers. And, when liberated, the first thing he
did was to cut the poor ass's throat! The editor of the
— — had gone to his office, followed by his negro keeper,
who begged his protection, and promised to serve him. All
the world might come to an end, but the paper must go to
press at the appointed time.
Large handbills were posted on the trees and walls, informing
the public that there would be a grand “gratis exhibition”
in the Square that night. And the incensed publisher
and profane politician were appointed to act as the
master showmen. The latter, indeed, could hardly be
restrained from thrusting the benevolent Mr. B— into
one of the half-finished cages—accused him of being a Know
Nothing, half Abolitionist, and cheek by jowl with the
infernal rowdies who had put him in the cage. But the
fact, which had really occurred in the presence of this irascible
Democrat, of Mr. B—'s interposition in behalf of
Senator Langdon, saved him.
Not being able to learn anything in relation to his
daughter in the Square, and being convinced that no good
could be accomplished by making speeches to the multitude
before him, Mr. L— proceeded to the Musical Fund
Hall, where a large meeting of merchants and capitalists
had assembled. Mr. Langdon, the distinguished Senator
from a State still further north, was well known to many
of them, and he was requested to occupy a seat on the
stand. This he acceded to, and soon after, his name
being called by many who desired to hear him speak, he
rose to his feet, and announced his inability to comply fully
with the request, incapacitated as he was by the grief of being
separated from his daughter. He then narrated the manner
of the separation, and invoked the aid of his friends.
This was promised him, for his narrative excited their sympathy.
But nearly every one present had met with bereavements,
and all seemed to deplore the calamity which had befallen
the country. The jobbers estimated that not less than fifty
million of dollars were owing them in the South and South-west,
a greater sum than the capital invested in their business.
They were ruined irrevocably in the event of continued
separation and civil war.
The commission merchants said their “Bills Receivable”
consisted of the notes of the jobbers, and they, too, must
be ruined if payments were not made.
The manufacturers said the goods sold by the commission
merchants to the jobbers had been consigned by
them, and they, too, would be hopeless losers.
The presidents of the banks said their “Bills Discounted”
consisted of notes of these three classes, and the stock-holders
would be sacrified.
Several millionaires and lesser capitalists declared that
their collaterals consisted of the notes of country merchants,
mostly Southern and Western, which would be so much
worthless paper. All—all would be involved in a common
ruin!
And many individuals among these lamenting citizens
had encouraged the abolition lecturers and newspapers by
expending large sums of money in their behalf—and such
were a few of the bitter fruits of sectional agitation and
alienation of one portion of the people against the rest!
“But what remedy is proposed, gentlemen?” asked Mr.
Langdon.
“Do you suggest one,” cried several; “for we are unable
to propose anything whatever.”
“I doubt,” he continued, “whether anything effectual
can be accomplished in the present excited condition of the
country. Elections have been ordered by the Legislatures
for delegates to conventions to devise a remedy; but I
learn that but few of the people are disposed to vote. I
take it that public sentiment is not yet formed, and therefore
the wishes of the States, either North or South, cannot
now be ascertained. I think it well, however, that we
should, at least for the present, regard the existing Federal
authority as neutral between the contending parties. Randolph
is a man of ample mind, and it cannot be his policy
to promote the destruction of our interests. I think it his
design to hold the balance of power between the sections,
and I can see no objection to it.” Here there was a hum of
approbation, followed a moment after by decided applause.
“But, above all things,” continued Mr. Langdon, “I consider
it our duty to frown upon all military expeditions
against the Southern States.”
“Will our frowns prevent them?” asked a millionaire.
“You can refuse them money.”
“That we have already done. Nevertheless, Ruffleton
finds men.”
“True. And the object is to find money by plundering the
enemy, or the people who will thus be made our eternal enemies!
It is a sad business, gentlemen! Both sections should
have paid more regard to the warnings of Washington. Commerce,
trade, all employments will cease, if this separation
continues, and millions will have nothing to do but to
engage in deadly conflict! But I must find my daughter.
And, alas! gentlemen, how many thousands of happy families
must be cruelly divided!”
The distressed Senator retired from the meeting, still
attended by Mr. B—, who dispatched every one he met,
over whom he had sufficient influence, in quest of Edith
Langdon. They visited many collections of people, in the
usual places of public meetings, in the streets and in the
squares, and still nothing was heard of the missing one. At
the depôts and at the wharves no satisfactory intelligence
could be obtained. All they knew of her was that some
one, the preceding night, had whispered in Mr. B—'s ear
that she was in safety. And there was some consolation in
this—for how could the individual have known that a
daughter existed, or that she had been separated from her
father, without likewise knowing that she was in some
place of security? There could be no motive for imparting
incorrect information on such a subject and under such circumstances;
and this was the comforting deduction of Mr.
Langdon, although he would not for a moment abandon
the search.
Having made the round of the hotels, they entered the
Exchange just when the chandeliers were lighted in the
evening. There was an immense crowd within and around
the building. With a doleful countenance an auctioneer
was selling stocks and real estate, and Jews, mostly, were
the purchasers. They seemed like greedy vultures, snatching,
scrambling for the scattered fragments of ruined fortunes.
They were incessantly bargaining, chaffering, quarrelling.
Buying one moment and selling the next, on an
advance or a decline, there was something in the scene that
reminded one of the gaming-house.
Dwellings and stores had already fallen fifty per cent. in
value. Federal securities were at an awful discount. City
Sixes brought only $40. State Fives, but $30. Pennsylvania
Railroad, $20. Reading, $5; and even the Camden
and Amboy shares were sold for $21. Bank stocks could
find no purchasers, even among the Jews, for several of
them had been pillaged.
Turning from this wretched spectacle, Mr. Langdon
descended the broad stairs, and on Third street found his
way impeded by a dense throng of rioters.
“These are desperate fellows,” said Mr. B—, reading
the mottoes on several of their illuminated transparencies,
“and there will be sad work. They will attack the party
now in Independence Square. I had intimations that they
were rallying for that purpose.”
“What party do they belong to?” asked Mr. Langdon.
“The party of demons,” was the whispered reply. “They
never had any principles, only impulses; sometimes they
voted on one side, and as often on the other. Such is and
must be the history of the very lowest class of citizens in
all Republics. If they are not rewarded for their work,
whatever it may be, they will pay themselves. Their gains
are the losses of others. They create nothing. Such is the
profligate rabble of the great cities.”
Women were with them in great numbers, some on foot,
bearing loaves of bread on poles, and others drawn in open
carriages, covered with fantastic decorations. Mr. Langdon
gazed at the frightful procession, and sickened at the thought
that his own delicate Edith might possibly be forced to participate
in some such terrible pageant. Taking the arm of
his friend, he turned away. And his abhorrence of the
scene was increased, if possible, by hearing the piteous cry
of a child in quest of its parent. “Poor boy! take him
home!” said the senator, placing a purse in the hand of a
plain man of honest countenance, into whose arms the fainting
youth had fallen. And even little girls, not five years
old, were seen wandering about at such an hour and in such
a place, in search of parents perhaps no more among the
living.
