The killing of
Robert W. Davis, who was shot by the soldiers from
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the car windows, was an atrocious act, and tended more than any one incident to intensify the feeling of bitterness against the
Northern troops.
Mr. Davis was a member of the wholesale firm of
Pegram,
Paynter &
Davis, of Baltimore street. He was an Irishman by birth and had married in
Virginia.
One of his brothers was an officer in the
British Army.
He was a gentleman of high character and great popularity.
Upon the announcement of his death all the wholesale
dry goods stores of the city closed in respect to his memory and in testimony of his worth.
The
Sun the next day in an editorial denounced the killing of
Mr. Davis as a wanton and deliberate murder.
The story of the event, as told at the coroner's inquest by the late
Major Thomas W. Hall, who had his hand on
Mr. Davis' shoulder when he fell, is as follows:
Mr. Hall said: ‘I was on Pratt street, attending to some business, about 11:30 o'clock A. M., when I saw the first car containing troops from
President Street Station pass through.
Hearing that the troops were the Seventh Regiment, from New York, and wishing to verify that fact by personal observation, I started for the
Camden Street Station to see the soldiers change cars.
On the way I was overtaken by
Mr. Davis, who joined me, and with him passed through the station on to the track beyond.
Being told by a reporter that a crowd of people had gone up the road to destroy the track,
Mr. Davis and I determined to walk out a short distance in advance of the train to see if such was really the case.
We went out as far as the intersection of the
Washington turnpike, and finding but few people and little excitement on the road, started to return.
On the way back we overtook
Mr. Buckler, of the firm of Buckler,
Shipley & Co., and two others, also returning to the city.
We just turned up the first paved street on the outskirts of the city when we saw the train approaching, and unhappily stopped to gratify our curiosity by seeing the troops pass.
We took a position for the purpose by the roadside on some crossties thrown across a ditch.
The windows of the first cars were closed, and
Mr. Davis and I were speculating as to whether the troops were really on the train, when we observed the windows of the rear cars open and several muskets protruded through them and pointed at us. In reply to what we considered a mere piece of bravado on the part of the troops, being ignorant at the time of any bloodshed or that any collision with the people had taken place, the party raised a cheer for
Jefferson Davis and the Southern Confederacy.
Instantly several shots were fired,
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five or six in all, I think, though there may not have been more than three or four.
The group scattered instantly—
Mr. Davis falling.
I thinking that he had slipped across the ties, which were wet and afforded a very insecure footing, asked him if he was hurt.
His reply was: “ I am killed.”
I called to
Colonel Shutt, whom I recognized standing on the rear platform of the train, to stop the cars; that there were murderers on board.
The others of the party snatched up missles to hurl at the receding train.
I helped to raise
Mr. Davis, saw the wound in his left shoulder and that he was dead, and placing the body in the hands of the police, who came up at the moment, hastened to town to carry the terrible news to
Mr. Davis' partners and friends.
There were five in the party.
There were no persons nearer to them than another group no larger, and two of whom were policemen, at the corner of the paved street already mentioned, 200 yards off. They were unarmed, had made no demonstration of violence and intended none.
No missles were thrown by any of the party, and when they cheered they were in ignorance of the fact that the troops had met with resistance in town and were exasperated by the loss of their comrades.’
In the meantime the unarmed
Pennsylvania recruits which had been left at
President Street Station, were in a deplorable dilemma.
They were surrounded by a hostile and very angry crowd and were subjected to indignities and some violence.
Some of them, seized with a panic, fled and dispersed through the city.
During the night many of them straggled into the police stations and begged for protection.
Those who remained in
President Street Station were later on put on cars and hauled out of town toward
Philadelphia.
Some straggled as far as
Harford county and were put in jail.
Bridges on the
Philadelphia,
Wilmington &
Baltimore and Northern Central roads were burned by order of the
Mayor, with the assent of
Governor Hicks, and all communication with the East and North was destroyed.
Policemen and members of the Maryland Guard were sent out to do the work.
The reason of this action was the conviction that if more troops had come through the city at that time, there would be great disturbances and bloodshed.
Judge Bond,
G. W. Dobbin and
John C. Brune were sent to
Washington to beg the
President to stop the transmission of troops through
Baltimore, but he gave them no satisfaction that day, and the city government took hold of the matter and burned the bridges.
The next day a letter was received from the
President saying that the troops might march around
Baltimore and not through it.
Governor Hicks said he had
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hoped no more troops would be sent through
Maryland, but it could not be helped.
On the afternoon of Friday, April 19, 1861, at 4 o'clock there was a great mass-meeting in Monument Square. Speeches were made by
Dr. A. C. Robinson,
Mayor Brown,
William P. Preston,
S. Teackle Wallis,
John E. Wethered,
Robert L. McLane and
Governor Hicks.
The people were counseled to rely upon the authorities, which would protect them.
The invasion of the city and the slaughter of citizens were denounced.
Mr. Wallis said it was not necessary to speak.
‘If the blood of citizens on the stones in the street does not speak,’ he said, ‘it is useless for man to speak.’
His heart, he said, was with the
South, and he was ready to defend
Baltimore.
The Governor made his famous declaration that he would suffer his right arm to be torn from his body before he would raise it to strike a sister State.
That night
ex-Governor E. Louis Lowe made a speech to a great gathering in front of Barnum's Hotel.
The streets were thronged with people discussing the events of the day and many citizens walked the streets with muskets or guns in their hands.
