April 15, 1863, Montgomery Weekly Advertiser
From the Richmond Whig.
In deference to the weak suggestion of authorities who are scarcely less afraid to acknowledge a disagreeable truth than the despotism at Washington, the papers of this city forbore to make mention of the riot which occurred on Thursday morning last.
When Fort Donelson fell, the news was kept back from the people for nearly a week, and to repeated inquiries made at the War Office, the answer was given that the Government was in possession of no intelligence. This was to have been expected from the person then at the head of the War Department, but under the new regime the people had a right to expect, and did expect, courage and common sense. To suppose that in a city containing nearly a hundred thousand people, every tongue and every pen could be checked, in obedience to the request of any human being whatever, and because the newspapers were silent–to believe, for an instant, that the throng of “special correspondents” would pass over the most precious item that has fallen into their nets since the war began–to hope that the courts would close their doors and investigate crime in secret session–to dream that passengers leaving by the cars, farmers going out on horseback, women in buggies and hucksters in chicken carts, would one and all be stricken dumb, or, retaining possession of their speech, would refuse to tell their wives, children, friends, neighbor, and gossips the marvelous story of the great “bread” riot–the breaking open of stores–the calling out of the military–the appeals of old citizens–the repeated reading of the riot act by the Mayor–the eloquent harangues of the President in a furniture wagon to a crowd of innocent men, squares away from the scene of female burglarism in broad daylight, suppose that all this could be suppressed by any agency conceivable, much less the meek silencing of the papers, is, to say the very least of it, the silliest expectation that ever entered the brains of men outside of strait-jackets.
This timidity, or want of common sense, or whatever else it may be called, must be regarded as by far the worst part of the business. The riot itself is as nothing compared to it. If the authorities who rule this Confederacy are so pusillanimous as to fear the truth, whatever it may be, or so deficient in intellect as to suppose that such a thing as a female riot could occur in Richmond, at any time of the day or night, and not be known outside of the city limits, then are we just as badly off as if we were starving. We are not starving, nor are we on the verge of it; but the ostrich system of hiding the head behind a leaf whenever danger is near, or thought to be near, does obtain in our councils; and there, and there only, is the only real trouble perceptible in this whole matter.
Happily, these daylight burglaries are undergoing judicial investigation; a great part of the stolen goods has been reclaimed; the ringleaders are being arrested; they will be tried and punished; a full account of the affair, from its obscure origin to its disgraceful culmination, will be made public; and the exaggerations that have gone to the country will be counteracted.