From the account published by the correspondent of the New York World, we extract the following description of the rebel Capitol.
So soon as we descend into the plains of beautiful Virginia, we observe the change in all that distinguishes an old from a new country. Richmond is a model of that exterior respectable convervatism which is the chief boast of that people. It is in its natural site one of the most picturesque places in the world. Richmond of to-day is, however, the Richmond of two years ago turned out of doors. With the seat of Government came also the troop of sharpers, gamesters, politicians and adventurers, from which the South was never free. The hotels are anomalous, and do not court comparison with the hotels of even Washington. On the streets may be seen the same string of tawdry men and women, a little the worse for wear. Handsome women we saw, however, whom fashion could hardly adorn. The stores are still open and equally crowded, but the shelves are very lean and bare. There is a certain effort of dress on the part of the military, but is far from being a success. The vehicles are faded and shaky; the horses poor and jaded; the streets, naturally beautiful, neglected and overrun with war
traces. Some of the private residences look quite old and comfortable.
We were not permitted to observe much of this sort of thing, our residence in Richmond being mainly confined to one building, and, in fact, to one room in the Libby Prison, a hotel somewhat famous for its extensive patronage by Northern guests.—The prison was comparatively empty when we entered, about a hundred and twenty of the officers taken at the late battle on the Rappahannock being the occupants.—From that morning we were rapidly inducted into the mode and substance of prison life. We bad heard tales of horror concerning this same prison, but were disagreeably disappointed in finding it less bad than we had pictured in our imagination. It is bad enough, too bad for the officers of any army. Of Captain Turner we have nothing but praise, but the system, of which he is but the instrument, is faulty.
On entering we are searched, our money taken, for safety, and all articles contraband of war confiscated. As we came into the Confederacy almost nude, we passed easily. Once domiciled in the long room under the roof, a classification takes place into messes.
We had no beds—this hardship was one we were inured to by camp life—but little bedding. We had to clean our own rooms and vessels, and were not permitted so much as to stick a head out of the window, on penalty of being shot.
The ration is large enough, larger than that furnished to the Confederates of the same rank. We cannot but think it a punishment that persons are obliged to cook with wretched implements their own food. Imagine a national Colonel with his hands in the dough, the dainty staff officer detailed to clean pots and kettles, or the delicate Tribune correspondent, broom in hand, set to scrubbing floors.
One source of amusement is unfailing, reading the newspapers; and another, chatting with the visitors. We were delighted to bear the repartee of a Lieutenant one day, on being threatened with hanging as retaliation for Burnside’s executions.—”Well,” says he, “we can stretch hemp as well and as long as your officers, anyhow” The singing of “Old Hundred” called down the special comment of the Richmond papers, who denounced it as rank blasphemy on the part of the Northern infidels and heretics.
The streets are gay enough for a capital semi-besieged. The houses, old fashioned and substantial, and more comfortable in their appointments than I bad expected.—The park is crowded nightly with spectators to witness some regimental drill and listen to the band. The President is infirm in health and is said to be in danger of losing his sight. There are many Marylanders staying in the city waiting “to go home.”
The darkness is darker than the brightness is bright. The most momentous, as it is the most solemn fact of all, is told in the record of the cemeteries. Thirty thousand burials within two years, and of those nearly all from the hospitals! Hollywood Cemetery is crowded with strangers, but more than this, numbers have found resting places in the beautiful hills and dales of “Old Virginia.” She may be called “Aceldama, the field of blood.” Mourning all around! One of the most touching sights in the whole of our observation is to see troops of young wives and maidens in procession to the cemetery, with garlands and flowers which frat were destined for the festival.
Daily Intelligencer, Wheeling, WV