|
Confederate Veteran
Prison Life
Pg. 1
[ Up ] [ CV 1893 Pg 2 ] [ CV 1893 Pg 3 ] [ CV 1893 Pg 4 ] [ CV 1893 Pg 5 ] [ CV 1893 Pg. 6 ] [ CV 1893 Pg 7 ] [ CV 1893 Pg 8 ] [ CV 1893 Pg 9 ] [ CV 1893 Pg 10 ] [ CV 1893 Pg 11 ] [ Conf. Vet Pg 12 ] [ Conf. Vet Pg 13 ] [ 1893 pg 14 ] [ CV 1893 Pg 15 ] [ CV 1894 Pg 1 ] [ CV 1894 pg 2 ] [ CV 1894 Pg 3 ] [ Cv 1894 Pg 4 ] [ CV 1894 Pg 5 ] [ CV 1894 pg. 6 ] [ CV 1894 Pg. 7 ] [ CV 1894 pg 8 ] [ CV Prison Life Pg.1 ] [ CV 1911 Pg 1 ] [ CV 1911 pg 2 ] [ CV 1911 Pg 3 ] [ CV 1911 Pg 4 ] [ CV 1911 Pg 5 ] [ CV 1911 Pg 6 ] [ CV 1911 Pg 7 ] [ CV 1911 Pg 8 ] [ CV 1911 Pg 9 ] [ CV 1911 Pg 10 ] [ CV 1911 Pg 11 ] [ CV 1911 Pg 12 ] [ CV 1911 Pg 13 ] [ CV 1911 pg 14 ]
Mar 1911
SKETCHES OF PRISON LIFE PART 1.
BY REV. C. M. HUTTON, FORT WORTH.
I have been requested to give some of my four months' experiences in Yankee prisons. As surgeons and chaplains were noncombatants, some may ask why they were subject to capture. I had no explanation of this till I was informed by Judge Ould, our commissioner for the exchange of prisoners, as he and his adjutant, Major Hatch, were conveying me to Petersburg from City Point, Va., where I had just been unconditionally released. He said: "At the beginning of the war it was understood that surgeons and chaplains would not be held. But one of our surgeons was captured while armed, and was held. Our side retaliated by holding all surgeons. The Yankees then held all chaplains in retaliation, and then we held their chaplains. All this grew out of that surgeon's mistaking his duty."
Permit me first to introduce myself as the chaplain of the 36th Alabama Infantry, Gen. H. D. Clayton commander of brigade. I assumed duty when our regiment was located on Dauphin Way, four miles west of Mobile, in October, 1861, and remained in service till the surrender. We were transferred in 1863 to Tennessee, and served there till a short time before the close of the war, and were near Mobile again when the surrender came.
My imprisonment was in July, August, and September, 1863, at Nashville, and the following October in Washington City. I was kindly treated at both these prisons. I have always been thankful that an overruling Providence threw me into good hands and into places of usefulness, even though a prisoner. If all our soldiers had so fared, more pleasant memories between the two sections would now be entertained of the terrible times that "tried men's souls."
I have a most pleasant memory of Dr. T. G. Hickman, of Vandalia, Ill., the surgeon in charge of the prison hospital at Nashville. His uniform kindness for three months greatly endeared him to me. He sought and obtained my release from Gen. R. S. Granger, commandant of the post, who applied to General Rosecrans in my behalf. Our command was in active service in Tennessee. We were first encamped at Tullahoma, but soon moved to Wartrace, our line extending by Hoover's Gap. The night before my capture was spent in a stubble field where were shocks of wheat. These were of some protection from the ground made muddy by a hard rain, and we expected an engagement at any time. Next morning our soldiers were shivering from the cold rain, when the booming of cannon began, and I heard exploding shells for the first time. I soon learned that there was no danger in them when the explosion occurred overhead, for the fragments went forward. I sought breakfast at a small residence in the rear. The whites had vacated it. leaving a few negroes in charge. After a short meal, I ordered coffee for the suffering soldiers, and took two large pots to them. Very soon the Yankees were about cutting off and capturing the entire regiment. A rapid retreat was ordered, and the rushing men began throwing away their blankets. As I was mounted, I called them to bring their blankets to me. Very soon I had more than my arms could hold. One man said: "Get down quickly and we will spread them all upon the horse." When the horse was about the size of an elephant, I told them that was as many as I could stride. It must have been an amusing spectacle I presented in riding off with my load.
We were glad when the command, "Halt!" was given. The fatigued men dropped upon the ground to rest, dropping guns pellmell. Colonel Woodruff ordered all gun caps removed. Despite this order, one gun was neglected. A loaded wagon came along, and Colonel Woodruff called out: "Take up those guns!" A soldier requested another man to hand him his gun. The cap had not been removed, and a jutting rock pulled the hammer back and fired the gun into a group of soldiers. One cried out: "O my leg!" It proved to be Private Alien, of Company B, whom I met since the war as a physician of Rockdale, Tex. His thigh bone was broken. It was at the gate of Mr. Huffman's residence, near Normandy, a railroad station. He was carried into the house and his limb was immediately amputated by our surgeon, Dr. Herndon.
As Allen was recovering from the effects of chloroform he begged me to remain with him. I hesitated, knowing we were on the move and to remain meant capture. Dr. Herndon assured me they would not hold me and that I was the most suitable man to stay, especially as Mr. Huffman's family consisted entirely of ladies and he was a very old man. Private Joe Park agreed to stay with me. The first thing I did was to bury Alien's leg a sad duty. Within two days the Yankees were almost upon us, so Joe Park left just in time to escape.
Two weeks later Allen had rallied sufficiently for me lo leave for my command. I took Mr. Huffman along to testify to the Federal officer in command that he heard the surgeon address me as chaplain. This availed nothing. I had not brought a blanket or any other necessary articles, and I was at once sent to Tullahoma under heavy guard. Soon I was taken to the depot, where stood a train bound for Nashville. I was put aboard and at first in a box car crammed full of standing prisoners. Seats were impossible, for we were as close as sardines in a box. The lieutenant, observing my badge (a Maltese cross), said: "I'll give you a better place." I willingly accepted, yet felt I was no more worthy than any other of the men I left. The "better place" was a car with only one other fellow prisoner, introducing himself as Dr. Lloyd, a surgeon. Not much sleep came to my eyes as I lay without a blanket upon the filthy floor at the heels of a horse, constantly fearing that he might hurt me. I recalled what Paul said: "I have learned in whatsoever state I am therewith to be content."
Next morning our train stopped just before pulling into the station at Nashville. When a little boy came up to see the prisoners, Lloyd asked: "Buddy, can't you bring us some breakfast?" "Yes," he said, "if you are Rebels." We told him we were. He soon came with a nice, warm breakfast which we ate with relish. Lloyd said: "Let's write a note of thanks, but I haven't anything to write on." I readily assented and handed him a small company book that Captain Carpenter, of Company B, had intrusted to my care at Hoover's Gap. After writing the note, Lloyd inadvertently placed the little book in his own pocket. This escaped my attention also, but it was directed as a link in a wise, overruling providence to prepare the way for a place of usefulness to which I was led in about twenty four hours.
In the confusion of falling into line with my fellow prisoners I lost sight of Lloyd. We were marched to the penitentiary. I found citizen prisoners there who were imprisoned for their sympathies being with the South. Among these was an intelligent lawyer who advised me to apply to the provost marshal for release. I took his advice. Before word came from the provost marshal I thought of that company book Lloyd had forgotten to return to me. I asked some fellow prisoners if they knew a prisoner named Dr. Lloyd who came with us yesterday. One man replied: "Yes, but he is not a doctor, but is a private who on the eve of capture jerked on a surgeon's uniform, so as to have an easy time." He also told me that I could find him at the prison hospital, claiming to be a surgeon. While in the penitentiary a prisoner of the 36th Alabama told me of Bunch's being there dressed in the uniform of a Yankee captain who had been a spy among us and whom Colonel Woodruff, judging from his soldierly bearing, had made our color bearer. In another article I shall have more to say of Bunch and the so called "Dr." Lloyd.
HONOR TO MEMORY OF A PRISON OFFICER. PROPOSED TRIBUTE TO COL. RICHARD OWEN, COMMANDANT OF PRISON AT CAMP MORTON, 1862.
After the inangurating of a tribute to Sam Davis, which brought forth substantial results from every State in the Union, the Editor of the VETERAN now submits reasons for patriots in every part of the country joining in doing honor to the memory of Col. Richard Owen, who commanded the Camp Morton Prison, Indianapolis, in the early months of 1862.
This worthy object was proposed in the VETERAN for May, 1907, but it was not taken up then, as the Sam Davis monument was not completed, and the question of securing property for the Jefferson Davis Home memorial at Fairview, Ky., made it necessary to delay action. The latter enterprise is not yet achieved, but this Owen memorial was anxiously considered, and an invitation by the women of Indiana to attend the dedication of a bronze bust to the memory of Robert Dale Owen at Indianapolis induced attendance and, without longer delay, the making of a formal request for a place to erect a memorial tablet to Col. Richard Owen, who was a brother of Robert Dale Owen. After an interview with Governor Marshall, an explanatory circular was distributed in both houses of the legislature.
THE LETTER SUBMITTED TO THE INDIANA LEGISLATURE. S. A. Cunningham, of Nashville, Tenn., visited Indianapolis in the hope of supplying a modest but enduring memorial to Col. Richard Owen, who was commandant of the prison at Camp Morton in the early months of 1862. Through all these intervening years a spirit of gratitude to Colonel Owen for constant courtesy and kindness has continued, and no word of complaint has been heard from any one of the four thousand Confederates, mainly those who were surrendered at Fort Donelson on February 16, 1862.
The prisoners had suffered so much from cold and hunger that a profound sense of gratitude was manifested for the kindness and respect shown them by the commandant, "Colonel Owen." His given name was not known. For much of two weeks after imprisonment in Camp Morton the prisoners would eat the entire day's rations immediately. There was no murmur at this, for all realized that the authorities were unprepared to supply the needs of so many on so brief notice. Erelong a liberal supply was issued, and as long as Colonel Owen was in charge of the prison there was unvaried expression of gratitude for his kindness. Many fellow prisoners were in the City Hospital, and Colonel Owen allowed their messmates and close friends to visit their sick in groups of six to ten, with only one or two guards under a sergeant. Expression of sentiment was prevalent that if any prisoner should seek to escape through Colonel Owen's kindness he would be punished by his fellow
prisoners. Thirty years after release from Camp Morton the personal petitioner, who seeks for himself and his few surviving
fellow prisoners opportunity to pay tribute to Colonel Owen, while in Chicago observed the law sign of Ernest Dale Owen, and called upon him to ascertain what he might of Colonel Owen, knowing nothing whatever of him or the distinguished family, of which he was a most worthy member. He was surprised to learn that just before the war Colonel Owen was a teacher in a military school at Nashville, Tennä with Gen. Bushrod Johnson, who, though a Northern man, became a distinguished major general in the Confederate army. The same school was conducted later by Gen. E. Kirby Smith, whom Gen. E. R. S. Canby designated as "the soul of honor" upon the occasion of his turning over to the United States the gold that had been intrusted to him for Confederate purposes to furnish transportation for President Davis to some other country, but not turned over at the time Gen. Kirby Smith surrendered the Trans Mississippi Department.
The career of Col. Richard Owen merits the desire of his fellow men, North and South, to do him honor. In the American Geologist for September, 1890, W. N. Winchell, of Minneapolis, Minn., gives an interesting sketch of him, in which he states that he was born in Scotland January 6, 1810, and in March, 1890, having passed his eightieth birthday, he died through accidental poisoning. He was the youngest brother of David Dale and Robert Dale Owen, and his fourscore years had been devoted to deeds of usefulness. Like his distinguished father and brother, he was conspicuous for deeds of helpfulness to his fellow men. He engaged early as a teacher, but through the solicitation of his brother, Robert Dale Owen, a member of Congress, he was appointed captain in the Mexican War, serving in the army nearly a year and a half. Later he engaged in surveying northwest territory with his brother, David Dale Owen. In 1849 he associated with Col. Thornton Johnson in the Western Military Institute in Kentucky, which later on became a department in the Nashville (Tenn.) University, In an address to the ladies of the Mount Vernon Association, Nashville (published in pamphlet at the time), delivered in "Honor to the Illustrious Dead," he indicated his fear of the war that came. He soon sold his interests in Nashville and returned to Indiana. In 1860 he succeeded his brother as State Geologist of Indiana.
Early in the great war he was appointed lieutenant colonel of the 15th Indiana Volunteers, and was later promoted to colonel of the 60th Indiana Regiment. After serving as commandant of Camp Morton Prison for several months, he was ordered to Kentucky with his regiment, and the command was captured at Munfordville. General Buckner went into the field where his regiment was guarded, thanked him for kindness to prisoners at Camp Morton, and gave him unconditional liberty.
Colonel Owen was one of the most active officers of the United States army. The "Records" report creditable deportment of him at Cheat Mountain, W. Va., in the Kentucky Campaigns, at Arkansas Post, and at Vicksburg.
The tribute sought to be paid to Colonel Owen by the prisoners who were under his charge was conceived by the writer, who is founder of the CONFEDERATE VETERAN, a magazine of Nashville, which has for many years represented officially every general Confederate organization in existence. He proposed this tribute in 1907, and it had the hearty concurrence of many friends without a known disapproval. Cooperation of proper authorities whereby this tribute of Confederate prisoners to the memory of Col. Richard Owen in Camp Morton may be worthily placed in the capital of Indiana is gratefully sought.
The Governor selected Hon. William W. Spencer, an active member of the lower house, who had gone to school to Col. Richard Owen, to prepare a bill, which was submitted, and passed both houses by unanimous vote. The bill reads as follows: "Be it resolved by the House of Representatives, the Senate concurring therein, that the Governor of this State be authorized to permit the surviving Confederate prisoners who were confined in Camp Morton during the War between the States to erect a tablet to the memory of Col. Richard Owen for the kindness shown said Confederate prisoners, and
that the Governor be authorized to designate the spot where said tablet shall be placed, either in the Statehouse, on the grounds of the Statehouse, or on the soldiers' monument in the city of Indianapolis."
The memorial inscription suggested is as follows: "Tribute to Col. Richard Owen for kindness to Confederate prisoners in Camp Morton, 1862. While faithful to every duty as an officer of the United States army, Colonel Owen secured the gratitude of Confederate prisoners as enduring as time. Contributed in 1911 by surviving prisoners and their friends."
The inscription opens the way for a multitude to cooperate in this unique evidence of gratitude and patriotism. The promoter undertakes this project alone. He does not know that a single fellow prisoner will join him, but he undertakes it and asks for the cooperation of his friends as they would favor him personally. He will ask Governor Marshall to delay the selection of the place for the tablet until July, in the hope that a liberality of response will justify the selection of a very prominent place, and the memorial be one of credit to all who approve its production.
Mr. Spencer wrote on March 11: "The resolution I introduced the day you were in the legislature passed the House and the Senate without a dissenting vote. I inclose you a copy of the resolution. Governor Marshall at the present time, accompanied by his wife, is taking a vacation of about two weeks in the Southland, and on his return he and I will investigate as to which is the proper place for you to erect the tablet. I wish again to express my gratification in knowing that you appreciate Colonel Owen in the same manner as he was appreciated by the students in college, and I also want to thank you for the magnanimous and grateful spirit which you have shown in your undertaking. I call it your undertaking, because you took the initiative and made it possible."
The purpose of this project is to honor Col. Richard Owen and demonstrate with the best, if not the only, instance of real merit that ever may be given, the feeling of Confederates to a foe who was magnanimous and considerate, even in the war period. The offer to place a "memorial tablet" was modest, the Editor being resolved if wholly unaided to supply testimony of the prisoners' appreciation of Colonel Owen's kindness to them.
After correspondence with all fellow prisoners that he could hear from, he concludes, as so nearly all of them are dead, to solicit contributions from "prisoners and their friends.' This will open the way for a multitude in the South and some in the North who may contribute to this distinctive object.
The VETERAN will accept contributions until July 1, 1911, publishing the list of contributors. Whatever is done must be done promptly. Small amounts, not less than one dollar, will be most acceptable. Those who feel solicitude for this object may exalt the spirit of its purpose by calling the attention of friends. Don't forget that of the four thousand mentioned the whereabouts hardly of one in each thousand is known. No more fitting "peace monument" could be erected on this continent. Prompt notice of amount that will be contributed by July 1 would enable the promoter to indicate to Governor Marshall the character of memorial, thereby enabling him to indicate the location.
July 1911
SKETCHES OF PRISON LIFE.
BY REV. C. M. BUTTON, FORT WORTH.
PART III.
As mentioned at the close of the last article, we will now consider the case of Mrs. Tovell, one of the kind German ladies who, with her daughter, Augusta, and her sister, Mrs. Kossuth, made constant visits to the prison hospital, giving clothing and other needed articles to our sick and wounded men. Mrs. Tovell's husband was a Baptist preacher, and owing to his preaching the funeral of a man that the Federals had put to death, he was sent at once to the South, not even being permitted to take leave of his family. All communication between him and his family was thereby cut off, and for several months they had riot heard from each other.
Through Dr. Hickman's kindness my release had been sought. He took me before Gen. R. S. Granger, commandant of the post, who applied to General Rosecrans in my behalf. My release was ordered, but I could not then be sent directly through owing to disturbed conditions of the lines in front. Accordingly General Granger kindly gave me an order to go on parole of honor to Washington City and to the provost marshal, who was requested to further my progress South. Transportation was furnished me. As I was seated in an ambulance to be taken to the railroad station Mrs. Tovell appeared, standing near by. I called her to me to take leave of her. To her inquiry as to where I was going, I told her that I was going South. In her deep anxiety she asked me to tell Mr. Tovell about the family if I ever met him in the South. Of course I consented, and yet felt that to deliver the message to an unknown man in the South would be like "looking for a needle in a haystack."
Strange to relate, I met the man and delivered the message before reaching my home in Alabama. It was in this remarkable way: On reaching Selma I learned that there was an interval of seven hours before I could get a train. As I was only seventy five miles from home, this delay seemed unfortunate. It was wisely directed, however. I sought the home of Mrs. Chancellor Fellows, an old friend, who had often entertained me. When I had only a few minutes more before train time, I took my hat to leave. "O," she said, "you have not met our pastor, Rev. Arthur Small." (This man was killed in the trenches in defense of Selma in Sherman's raid almost at the close of the war.) I remarked that I would not have the time to see him, for I must not miss my train. She said: "You will not miss it. He lives on the way near by. I'll get my bonnet and go with you."
We had been in the parlor not more than five minutes when a lady unknown to me called. In my hearing she asked a gentleman: "How did you like the address of Mr. Tovell?" The singular name caught my ear, and I asked: "Who is this Mr, Tovell?" The reply was: "He is a Baptist preacher sent South for preaching the funeral of a man the Federals had put to death, and he is delivering lectures about it." I said: "How remarkable this is!"
When Rev. Mr. Small learned that I had such a message, he said, "You must certainly see him," and he pointed out the house of the local Baptist preacher, where I met and delivered the message to Mr. Tovell. to his utter delight. This cannot be accounted for in any other way but that it was by an overruling Providence. True, the message was delayed a month owing to my detention at Washington City, yet it was his first information of his family.
Soon after my imprisonment in Nashville a striking act of kindness was shown me by the provost marshal. Now it was the custom of soldiers in my regiment to bring to me for safekeeping articles of value in prospect of an engagement. Just preceding my capture a fine gold watch was intrusted to me. This, with my own, I carried through my entire imprisonment, one under each arm for concealment. The late Dr. L. S. Handley, of the Central Presbyterian (church, Birmingham, then a private in my regiment, brought me his purse, to which others added their money, till about $400 was placed in my care. This and a few articles of clothing were left with Alien, the wounded man whom I was attending. I had expected to return. Instead, however, I was sent on to prison. On application to the provost marshal he issued an order for these things. To get them required a special trip of six miles in the country from the nearest railroad station, Normandy. They were all safely delivered to me by express, and this kindness is surely worthy of note.
After three months, I left Nashville. On reaching Washington City I sought the office of the provost marshal to whom I had been ordered to report. He was overwhelmed with business. The large crowd surrounding him were kept at a distance and were waited on by little pages. Every man thought his time ought to be next. After considerable time, my paper was delivered to the provost marshal, and I was admitted through the gate. He said to me: "I see you have brought a prisoner to me by the name of Hutton." I told him I was the man mentioned. "How did you come here?" he asked. I replied: "I came on parole of honor." "Well," said he, "I'll give you further attention." Whereupon he sent the paper upstairs, but it was returned without any favorable answer. I was ordered to follow a man who led me to old Capitol Prison and passed me by the sentinels into a room where I found two other chaplains and two surgeons that had been there amonth or more.
It has been said that "misery loves company." I was glad in one sense to have good company, but I was much discouraged as to a speedy release, for I was sure then that noncombatants were not exempt from imprisonment. In my first article I explained the reason. We called each other "brother," for the surgeons too seemed like brothers. One taught me to play chess, which beguiled some of the tedious hours. One day I preached the funeral of one of our men. Superintendents Wood and White took a Confederate captain and myself to the interment in the old Congressional graveyard. One of the chaplains drew up a very drastic application to the commissary for the exchange of prisoners, demanding our release. After others had signed it, they asked me to do so. I refused, saying such an application would do no good, but rather harm, and that if I had my hand in a lion's mouth I would get it out as easily as possible. I surely would not enrage him. They agreed that as I had come on parole of honor my case was more favorable than theirs. got the address and wrote a very different kind of application, telling all the circumstances of my capture and that my release had already been ordered, referring to Gen. R. S. Granger as proof. An account of my release will be given in the next and concluding article.
PART IV. (CONCLUSION.)
The very next day after my application for release had been sent Superintendent White came to our room and said: "Chaplain Hutton, get ready to leave in five minutes." After a hurried leave of friends, I was taken first to the main prison, I presume, in order that Superintendent Wood might deliver $1,500 (Confederate money) for me to take to Chief Justice Humphrey
Marshal) in behalf of Federal prisoners at Belle
Confederate Veteran July 1911
Isle. Here I met Belle Boyd, the Confederate spy, who asked in vain to be allowed to accompany me. She then requested me to take her trunk. I confess I agreed to do so reluctantly after Wood had arranged it for me.
On reaching the wharf where I was to take the flag of truce steamer the men who had me in charge discovered they had left my papers at the prison. We were told that Major Mun ford was uptown, but wouldn't wait five mintes on, his return. I was taken back hurriedly, yet by the time we returned the steamer, though near by, had gone.
They left me to take a tug with the hope of overtaking the steamer should it stop to coal at Alexandria. All hope was gone, as we saw that the steamer had passed this point. I had then to take a street car and return to Wood, report my disappointment, return the $1,500 and trunk, and go back to prison. The chaplains and surgeons laughed, but I saw nothing merry about it.
Wood kindly promised to arrange as early as possible for my return South. In two weeks he took me to Baltimore to dinner at a fine hotel and left me on parole of honor that he might return to Washington on business, telling me to be ready for the steamer to Fortress Monroe at 4 P.M. A few minutes before this hour the proprietor of the hotel, observing my name on his register marked C. S. A., inquired in my hearing for me. I told him I was the man he was seeking, He grasped my hand cordially and said: "I am in sympathy with the South, and if you will consent, I'll take you to some ladies who will gladly furnish you with a suit of clothing." I thanked him, but declined for want of time, telling him that Wood would soon come to put me aboard the steamer, and that my progress South was better than a suit.
Our trip was at night. On our arrival early next morning at Fortress Monroe Wood took me to General Meade's office and asked him to parole me. To this Meade said: "Then he will have to provide his own meals." Wood said: "I will look after that. You parole him." Wood kindly ordered the ambulance driver to take me to the Ocean Hotel and gave me $10 (greenbacks) to pay expenses, a letter to Justice Marshall, and $40 in Confederate money for railroad fare to Richmond, and then we parted, never to meet again. The letter was in behalf of Federal prisoners at Belle Isle.
In an hour or less at this hotel where I dined the same men who took me there called for me to put me aboard a tug on which I was taken to the flag of truce steamer New York. As I ascended the steep side of this vessel on a rope ladder Major Munford, the commander, met me, his only prisoner, and asked: "Are you not the chaplain that missed the steamer at Washington two weeks ago?" I replied that I was. "Why didn't you remain till I came?" I told him my papers had been left. To this he said: "I didn't need your papers, for I was present when your release was ordered."
He was very kind and social on the way, but the most pleasant thing to me was the sight of our flag at half mast as we reached City Point, on the James. A ride of nine miles to Petersburg in the carriage in company with Judge Ould, commissary for the exchange of prisoners, and with his adjutant, Major Hatch, ended my four months' experiences as a prisoner, with profound gratitude to God for his wonderful providence over me.
Now a few more lines in reference to Dr. T. G. Hickman, of Vandalia, Ill., the surgeon in charge of the prison hospital at Nashville. As already related, on the second day of my imprisonment he gave me the position of chaplain for this hospital, where I received the utmost kindness at his hands for three months. At his intercession I was released. He wrote for the VETERAN of December, 1904, an article setting forth his treatment of the prisoners in his hands, and he mentioned my name. I learned this by a personal letter to me in 1890 while I was pastor of a Church in Temple, Tex., he having obtained my address from Rev. J. H. McNeilly, D.D., of Nashville. This was twenty seven years after I left the prison. He told me of his marriage to a sister of Maj. Charles W. Anderson, the adjutant general of Gen. N. B. Forrest.
I determined then to plan a union with him. After much correspondence, this was finally effected at the U. C. V. Reunion at Nashville in 1898. Comrade Cunningham pointed him out to me. I could have thrown my arms around him.
Thirty five years had left its marks upon us both, so that neither would have know each other had we met elsewhere. First we visited the prison hospital, now a fine brick Baptist church. Here we recalled many events of the past. We next went to Thuss' gallery and had our photos taken in a group, a literal union of the blue and the gray. We parted, never to meet again on earth.
Since these articles were begun Comrade S. A. Cunningham wrote the following: "You will be sorry to learn that your old friend, Dr. Hickman, died some twelve years ago, and his good wife has joined him on the other shore. They had two nice boys whom I know very pleasantly. Will inclose a page giving the article about Mrs. Hickman."
Since the date given of Dr. Hickman's death and of our meeting in 1898 are the same, he must have died soon after we parted. May we have a more glorious reunion beyond.
Confederate Veteran May 1893.
ALEXANDER H. STEPHENS' PRISON LIFE.
A complete history of " The war between the States" will never be
printed.
Occasionally, after a lapse of several decades, new chapters will appear,
seeming incredible, because the vigilant journalist has not " handed it in
"
sooner.
These reflections are given as introductory to a few chapters, it becomes my
fortune to possess, concerning the surrender and imprisonment of the
Confederate Vice President. Many items will appear of general interest, and
altogether it will be interesting to those who most admired the
extraordinary statesman. Strange as it may seem a dismal blank occurred in a
Southern record of events just at this period.
Mr. Stephens' own language is used except where there are necessary
abbreviations, and then the substance is given with the least change
possible.
FORT WARREN, NEAR BOSTON, MASS.,
27 May, 1865.
This book was purchased this day of A. J. Hall, Sutler at this Post, by
Alexander H. Stephens, a prisoner on the Fort, with a view of preserving in
it some regular record of the incidents of his imprisonment and prison life.
It may be interesting to himself hereafter, sometimes, should he be
permitted to live, to refer to it and if his own life should not be spared
it may be of interest, in like manner, to some one of his relatives and
friends,
He knows it will be of intense interest to his dear and only brother, Hon.
Linton Stephens, of Sparta, Ga. Besides, he feels sure that all his
relatives will be exceedingly glad to peruse it, especially in the event
that they never see him again. For these reasons the book has been
purchased.
HIS ARREST AT LIBERTY. HALL,
Thursday, 11th May, 1865. This was a most beautiful and charming morning.
After a refreshing sleep I rose early. Robert Hull, a youth of about 16
years of age, son of Henry Hull, Jr., of Athens, Ga, spent the night before
with me. After writing some letters for the mail, my custom being to attend
to such business as soon as breakfast was over, Robert and I were amusing
ourselves at a game of cassino, when Tim came running in the parlor where we
were, saying, " Master, more Yankees have come, a whole heap of them are in
town galloping all about with guns.".
Suspecting what it meant, I rose, told Robert I expected they had come for
me, and entered my bedroom to make arrangements for leaving if my
apprehensions should prove correct. Soon I saw an officer with soldiers
under arms approaching the house. The doors were all open. I met the officer
in the library. He asked if my name was Stephens? I told him it was.
"Alexander H. Stephens?" said he. I told him that was my name. He said
he
had orders to arrest me and put me in custody. I asked him his name, and to
let me see his orders. He replied, his name was Capt. Saint, of the 4th Iowa
Cavalry, or mounted infantry. He was then under Gen. Upton. He showed me the
order. It was by Gen. Upton at Atlanta for my arrest, and that of Robert
Toombs. No charge was specified. He was directed to go to Crawfordville and
arrest me, and then proceed to Washington and arrest Mr. Toombs, and to
carry both to General Upton's headquarters. I told Capt. Saint that I had
been looking for something of this kind, at least had thought it not
improbable for some weeks, and hence had not left home. Gen. Upton need not
have sent any force for me. Had he simply notified me that he wished me at
his headquarters I should have gone.
I asked the Captain if I would be permitted to carry any clothing with me,
and how long I would be allowed to pack up. He said a few minutes as long as
would be necessary. He said, " You may take a servant with you, if you
wish." I asked him if he knew my destination. He said, first to Atlanta,
and
then to Washington City. I called in Anthony, a black boy from Richmond, who
had been waiting on me for several years, and asked him if he wished to go,
and that J would send him to his mother in Richmond from Washington. He was
willing to go, and was soon ready. It was about 10 o'clock A. M. when Capt.
Saint came to my house. In about fifteen minutes not much over we started
for the depot. Friends and servants followed, most of them crying. My own
heart was full too full, however, for tears. While Anthony was getting ready
I asked Capt. Saint if I could write a note or two to some friends. He said
I could. I wrote my brother in about these words:
CRAWFORDVILLE, GA., 11th May, 1865.
DEAR BROTHER I have just been arrested by Capt. Saint, of the Fourth Iowa
Cavalry. The order embraces Gen. Toombs. We are both to be carried to
Atlanta, and thence to Washington City, it seems. When I shall see you
again, if ever, I do not know. May God enable you to be as well prepared for
whatever fate may await me as I trust he will enable me to bear it. May his
blessings ever attend you and yours. I have not time to say more. A kiss and
my tenderest love to your dear little ones.
Yours most affectionately,
ALEXANDER H. STEPHENS.
This letter I sealed and addressed to him, and told Harry to send it over to
Sparta immediately after I should leave. The Captain said he preferred I
should not send the note then, that we would come back, and after that I
might send it. I told him it was a note simply announcing my arrest and
destination. I told him he might read it. I opened it and handed it to him.
He still objected, and I tore the note up. At the cars a great many people
had assembled. All seemed deeply oppressed and grieved. Many wept bitterly.
To me the parting was exceedingly sad and sorrowful. When we left the depot
the train backed up several hundred yards, where several soldiers, that
seemed to have been put out there as scouts, got on. There was no stop until
we reached Barnett. There we took another engine and started to Washington.
About four miles from the town the train stopped at a shanty occupied by a
supervisor of the track. Here I was put off, with about twenty soldiers to
guard me. The Captain and the others went on to Washington. He said he
expected to be back in an hour. He did not come until after dark. In the
meantime there came up a cloud and a heavy fall of rain. The man of the
house gave me dinner, fried meat and corn bread, the best he had, I was not
at all hungry indeed, had no appetite, but I ate to show my gratitude for
his hospitality share his homely but substantial fare.
Soon after dark the returning engine was heard coming. I was intensely
anxious to know what had been the cause of detention. When what we supposed
was the returning train came up it was nothing but the engine. The Captain
had returned to bring his men some commissary stores and went back
immediately. I asked him what was the cause of detention what
had occurred if Gen. ' Toombs was at home ? He answered evasively and left
me in doubt and great perplexity. About 9 o'clock the train came. The ground
was saturated with water, and I got my feet partially wet damp, this,
together with the chilliness of the night, after the rain, gave me a sore
throat, attended with severe hoarseness. When the train was under way for
Barnett, I asked the Captain if he had Mr. Toombs. " No," he said,
" Mr.
Toombs flanked us." This was said in a rather disappointed, irate tone, and
I made no further inquiries. About 11 o'clock we took the night schedule up
train at Barnett for Atlanta. It was cool and clear, some panes of glass
were broken out of the windows of the cars, and I was quite chilled by the
exposure. This was one of the most eventful days of my life. Never before
was I under arrest, or deprived of my liberty.
12th May. Reached Atlanta about half past 8 o'clock A. M. Morning clear and
cool quite unwell carried to Gen. Upton's headquarters. He had gone to
Macon, but was expected back that night. Capt. Gilpin, on Gen. Upton's
staff, received me and assigned me a room. Anthony made a fire, and Capt.
Gilpin ordered breakfast. Walked about the city under guard. The desolation
and havoc of war in this city were heartrending. Several persons called to
see me. Gen. Ira R. Foster called. He was allowed to address me a note, and
I was allowed to answer it, but no interview was permitted. Col. G. W. Lee
called. He was permitted to see me, to speak to me, but not permitted to
have any conversation. John W. Duncan was permitted to visit my room and
remain as long as he pleased. The same permission was extended to Gip.
Grier. Grier and Duncan called several times during the day. Capt. Saint
called and said he would send the surgeon of the regiment to prescribe for
my hoarseness. The surgeon came and prescribed remedies that did me good.
Maj. Cooper called and gave me a bottle of whisky. I started from home with
about $590 in gold, which I had laid up for a long time for such a
contingency. Gip. Grier offered me $100 additional in gold if I wished it. I
declined it. John W. Duncan offered any amount I might want. Gen. Foster, in
his note, also offered me any assistance in the way of funds I might need.
13th May. Did not sleep well last night. Gen. Upton called in my room early.
I was so hoarse I could hardly talk. He informed me he had removed all
guards, that I was on my parole. I told him I should not violate it. He
seemed very courteous and agreeable. I learned from him that Mr. Davis had
been captured. That Mr. C. C. Clay had surrendered himself. That Mr. Davis
and party, with Mr. and Mrs. Clay, would be in Atlanta to night on their way
to Washington also. Said he would send me in a special train to night to
Augusta, but from there to Savannah I should have to go in the same boat
with Mr. Davis and party. I had frequent talks with Gen. Upton during the
day, and was well pleased with him. Several friends called again to day,
Maj. Cooper, Duncan, Gip. Grier and others, several times. Duncan gave me a
bottle of Scotch ale, which I put in my trunk. He also gave me the name of a
banking house in Europe, with which he had funds, and authorized me to draw
on it for any I might need.
This evening a Col. Peters came to renew his acquaintance with me. We talked
pleasantly and agreeably of past events and associations.
REMINISCENCES OF OTHER DAYS.
>From my window, just before night I took a bird's eye survey of the ruins of
this place. I saw where the Trout House stood where Douglas spoke in 1860.
Thought of the scenes of that day the deep forebodings I then had of all of
these troubles, and how sorely
oppressed I was, at least, in their contemplation. Not much less so than I
now am in their full realization and myself amongst the victims. How strange
it seems to me that I should thus suffer, I, who did everything in the power
of man to prevent them. God's providence is mysterious, and I bow
submissively to his will. In my survey I could but rest the eye for a time
upon the ruins of the Atlanta Hotel, while the mind was crowded with
associations brought to life in gazing upon it. There is where, on the 4th
September, 1848, for resenting the charge for being a traitor to the South I
was near losing my life. And now I am a prisoner under charge, I suppose, of
being a traitor to the Union. In all I am now I have done nothing but what I
thought was right. In my whole life public life as well as private I have
been governed by a sense of duty. I have endeavored in everything to do what
was 'right under the circumstances surrounding me. The result be what it
may, I shall endeavor to meet and bear with resignation.
At 9 o'clock p. M. Gen. Upton informed me that my train would start at
Ilo'clock, that I might stop at home and get breakfast and take more
clothing if I wished. The train that would carry Mr. Davis and party would
leave two hours later, and I could remain until it reached Crawfordville. *
* * I told Gen. Upton that there was another colored boy at my house, Henry,
a brother of Anthony, whose mother was in Richmond. I should like, if there
was no objection, to take him along with me to Fortress Monroe, whence I
could send him to his home. He consented.
Sunday, 14th May. This is ever a memorable day to me. It is the anniversary
of my step mother's death. It is the day on which was severed the last tie
that kept the old family circle together around the hearthstone at the old
homestead. My father died just one week before, on the 7th. This was in
1826. At half past II this morning the cars reached the depot at
Crawfordville. My coming was known, and a large crowd was at the depot to
see me. I hastened to my house, as I had much to do. Church was just out,
preaching over and the congregation leaving. I could but give a hearty shake
of the hand to many whose eyes were filled with tears. Nearly all my
servants from. the homestead were at church. I learned that John had been
over to Sparta and informed my brother Linton of my arrest. Also that he was
sick. Oh ! what a pang that intelligence struck to my heart. In a hurried
manner I had a repacking of clothes. Henry and Anthony were soon ready.
Such hurried directions as could be were given to the servants on the lot
and at the homestead. The leaves taking were hurried and confused. The
servants all wept. My grief at leaving them and home was too burning,
withering, scorching for tears. At the depot there was an immense crowd old
friends, black and white. They came in great numbers and shook hands. That
parting and that scene I can never forget. It almost crazes the brain to
think of it. I could not stand it until the other train arrived, but told
the Captain to move off. This he did. When we arrived ' at Barnett we waited
for the other train. Gen. Upton came in to see me, and suggested that I
would be more comfortable in the car he had on the other train. In a short
time we were under way again. Reached Augusta some time before sundown. Gen.
Upton had a carriage for me to ride in to the boat, which was four or five
miles from the city, down the river. After the other train came up, which
was half an hour behind us, Mr. and Mrs. Davis were put in a special
carriage, some officer with them, Mr. Clay and Mrs. Clay in a separate
carriage by themselves. Then, as our carriages passed each other, I for the
first time saw them. They both bowed to me and I to them. Mr. Davis did not
see me until we reached the boat. A major from Indiana rode in the carriage
with me. Mrs. Davis' white nurse came and asked to ride in our carriage. We
let her in. She had Mrs. Davis' infant in her arms. Guards were in front, on
the side and in the rear some mounted on horses, some in wagons all well
armed. After the carriages started, which looked much like a funeral
procession, and we had got away from the depot, we found the streets lined
on both sides with immense crowds of people. I recognized but one familiar
face in the whole passage through the city, and that was Moore, of the
Chronicle and Sentinel, although I bowed to several who bowed to me. All
that I saw looked sad and depressed. When we reached the landing it was a
long time before we got on the boat. The walk to the river's edge was rough.
Deep ravines, without bridges, had to be crossed, and it was with great
difficulty, even with assistance that I was enabled to get along.
The boat was a miserable affair to bear the name of steamboat. It was a
river tug without cabin. There were a few berths which the ladies occupied.
All the rest of us were put on deck except Mr. Davis. He stayed in the part
of the boat occupied by the ladies. There was a covering over us, but the
sides were open. Gen. Wheeler and four of his men we found on the boat.
(To be Continued.)
Confederate Veteran June 1893.
ALEXANDER H. STEPHENS' PRISON LIFE.
The thrilling events as narrated by Alexander H. Stephens in a diary of his
capture and imprisonment was commenced in the issue of the CONFEDERATE VETERAN
for May.
These introductory notes are made for the benefit of those who
have not seen that number.
This report was furnished me by his nephew, Hon. Jno. A. Stephens, who is now
dead.
Mr. Stephens was arrested at his own Liberty Hall, Crawfordville, whither he had
gone, and was quietly awaiting the action of the victors until hisarrest. His
imprisonment and subsequent street parole at Atlanta, then the removal to
Augusta, where he, Mr. Davis, Greneral Wheeler and others became fellow
passengers, are also given in that number.
FROM HIS DIARY VERBATIM COPY.
General Wheeler and four of his men were on the boat. They had been captured
near Albany some days previous, and had been sent down to the boat some
hours before our arrival. The whole party were Mr. Davis and those captured
with him, Mr. and Mrs. Clay, myself, General Wheeler and his men, numbering
over twenty. I don't know exactly how many were in Mr. Davis' party. I
recognized General
and Col. Wm. Preston Johnston, of his staff,
Mr. Harrison, his private Secretary, and Postmaster Gen. J. H. Reagan. Mr.
Davis had with him a man and woman, also colored servants and little boy.
His children, Jeff, Maggie and Varina also Mrs. Davis, Miss Howell and her
brother J. D. Howell. A young man, a grandson of Judge of Kentucky,
was
also with him. I did not see him after we got on the boat. Mrs. Davis and
Mrs. Clay came on the deck where we were. Our meeting was the first Mrs.
Davis and party knew of my arrest. General Wheeler had not heard of the
arrest of any of us. Mr. Clay told me he had been on parole all the way, and
that he did not come on in the procession with the rest of us that he had
been permitted to drive his carriage out in the city (Augusta) and visit
some lady acquaintances of his wife. He gave me all the particulars of his
surrender.
On taking leave of me General Upton turned me over to Colonel Pritchard, of
the 4th Michigan Cavalry, who had captured Mr. Davis, and who then took
charge of all of the prisoners. The General told Colonel Pritchard that I
and Mr. Clay were on parole, and he allowed us the run of the boat. I asked
him to grant me permission to write to my brother: and he said he supposed
this permission would not be denied whenever I got to a place where I could
write.
On the cars from Barnet to Augusta I traveled with General Elzy (C. S. A.),
who had been paroled. I requested him. to write to John A. Stephens at
Crawfordville, and say to him I wished him to remain with his mother until
he heard from me. I greatly and deeply regretted that I did not meet John at
home today, as I passed there.
My feelings this night on this boat pass all description. We were all
crowded together in a small space on the boat's deck, covering over us, but
both sides open. The night was cool and the air on the water damp, and I was
suffering from a severe headache. No mention was made of supper, but I cared
not for supper. I had taken breakfast at 12 and did not feel as if I should
ever want to eat again. Clay and I united our cloaks, coats and shawls.
General Wheeler sent us a blanket. Mrs. Davis sent us a mattress, and we
made a joint bed in the open air on deck. I put the carpet bags under our
heads, and strange to say, I slept sweetly and soundly and arose much
refreshed the next morning. The boat raised steam and left the bluff not
wharf about nine o'clock at night. Reagan, Wheeler and the rest, including
the servants, stretched themselves about on the open space the best way they
could. All had covering of some sort but one little boy.
Just before I fell asleep I witnessed this scene: A little black boy about
14 years old, ragged and woe begone in appearance, was stretched on deck
right in the passage way. Whose he was, or where he was going, I knew not.
An officer came along, gave him a shove, and told him in harsh language to
get away from there. The boy raised up, waked from his sleep, and replied in
a plantation mood, "I have no lodging, sir." That scene and that reply
were
visibly on my mind when all my present cares were most opportunely and
graciously, if not mercifully, drowned in slumber as I was being borne away
from home, and all that was most dear to me, on the broad and smooth bosom
of the Savannah.
15th May: Waked much refreshed, morning beautiful, got a rough soldier
breakfast. Mr. Davis came out on our deck soon after I got up. It was our
first meeting since we parted the night after my return from the Hampton
Roads Conference to Richmond. Talked today a good deal with Clay, Reagan and
Wheeler, but spent most of my time in silent, lonely meditation on the side
of the boat, looking out upon willows on the margin of the sluggish, muddy,
crooked stream. Most of my thoughts were filled with home scenes and their
kindred associations. Colonel Pritchard introduced to me Captain Hudson, of
his regiment, and a Mr. Stribling (?), who was a correspondent of the New
York Herald. We talked a good deal on the state of the country, etc. The
entire day was clear, mild and beautiful.
16th May: Went to sleep last night as the night before. I omitted to note
yesterday that we got dinner and tea at the usual hours, potatoes (Irish)
and beef stewed together for dinner, at tea a good cup of black tea that
suited me well. There was hard tack on the table, some prefer that, but I
chose the soft, or what is known as light bread or " bakers' " bread.
The
table was small , only four could be seated at once. It took some time for
all to eat. We reached Savannah this morning at four o'clock, did not land,
but were transferred from the tug to a coast steamer, bound to Hilton Head
a much more commodious boat. On it we got a good breakfast beefsteak, hot
rolls and coffee.
On the passage to Hilton Head I took a berth and slept most of the way,
reached Hilton Head about 11 o'clock A. M. The day was clear and rather
warm, though not hot or sultry, anchored in the harbor and were transferred
to another steamer bound for Fortress Monroe. This was the Clyde, a new
boat, a propeller of about 500 tons, there were several good berths in the
cabin below, and quite a number of state rooms on deck above. The ladies and
most of the gentlemen selected state rooms. I preferred a berth below, and
chose my place there, which I found on the voyage was a most excellent
choice. After we were transferred to the Clyde, quite a number of officers
and other persons
came aboard. They brought New York papers, Harper's Weekly, Frank Leslie's
Illustrated News. It had been a long time since I had seen these prints.
Here for the first time I heard of the military commission trying the
assassins of Mr. Lincoln. The officers came down into the cabin where I was,
and talked some time of the state of the country. They were all courteous
and agreeable. Captain Kelly, formerly of Washington City, who knew me
there, told me he was now in the Quartermaster Department at Hilton Head. He
was pleased to speak kindly of his former recollections of me, 'alluded to
my Milledgeville speech in November, 1860, spoke highly of it and expressed
regret that I had not adhered to it. I told him I had. In that speech I had
with all my ability urged our people not to secede. The present consequences
I then seriously apprehended, but in the same speech. I told them that if in
solemn convention the people of the State should determine to resume their
delegated powers and assert her sovereign and independent rights, that I
should be bound to go with the State. To her I owed ultimate allegiance. In
that event her cause would be my cause, and her destiny my destiny. I
thought this step a wrong one, perhaps fatal, and exerted my utmost power to
prevent it, but when it had been taken, even though against my judgment, I,
as a good citizen, could but share the common fate, whatever it might be. I
did as a patriot what I thought best before secession. I did the same after.
He did not seem to have recollected that part of the speech, which
acknowledged my ultimate allegiance to be due to the State of Georgia. The
whole conversation was quite friendly. He manifested a good deal of personal
regard toward me.
At about three or four o'clock the Clyde put out to sea.
Before leaving, Mrs. Davis addressed a note to General Saxon (?), who had
charge of colonization, in confiding to him the little orphan mulatto boy
she had with her. The parting of the boy with the family was quite a scene.
He was about seven or eight years old, I should think. He was little Jeff's
playfellow, they were very intimate and nearly always together, it was Jeff
and Jimmy between them. When Jeff' knew that Jimmy was to be left, he
wailed, and so did Jimmy. Maggie cried, Varina cried, and the colored woman
cried. Mrs, Davis said the boy's mother had been dead a number of years, and
this woman had been as a mother to him. As the boat left our side, that was
to take Jimmy away, he screamed and had to be held to be kept from jumping
overboard. He tried his best to get away from those who held him. At this,
Jeff and Maggie and Varina screamed almost as loud as he did. Mrs. Davis
also shed tears. Mrs. Clay threw Jimmy some money, but it had no effect.
Some one on deck of his boat picked it up and handed it to him, but he paid
no attention to it, and kept scuffling to get loose, and wailing as long as
he could be heard by us.
After all, what is life but a succession of pains, sorrows, griefs and woes!
Poor Jimmy! He has just entered upon its threshold. This will hardly be his
worst or heaviest affliction, if his days be many upon this earth.
The Clyde is long and narrow, and rolls very much at sea. The Purser on the
Clyde is named Moore, a son of the Captain of the boat. He expressed some
kind personal regard for me this evening, said he was from Philadelphia,
gave me a copy of Harper's Weekly, and requested anything I could spare as a
little memento. I chanced to have in my pocket a chess piece of a set that
was very prettily made it was a Bishop. I took it out and asked him how
that would do, he seemed highly pleased with it.
May 19: We enter Hampton Roads this morning, a pilot boat meets us, we are
asked where we wish to be piloted to. To Washington was the reply.
The Tuscarora leads the way, and we arrive at Hampton Roads. Colonel
Pritchard goes to Fortress Monroe, returns and says we must await orders
from Washington. Before going ashore I asked him to inquire if I would be
permitted to telegraph or write home. He could, on returning, give no
information on that point. We anchor in the harbor, and the Tuscarora
anchors close by. We see near us the iron steamer Atlanta, captured at
Savannah. Dinner at usual hour, and all hands at table except Miss Howell,
all with good appetite except myself. My throat is still sore from continued
hoarseness, but much better than it was when I left Hilton Head. I have,
however, no relish for food.
20th May: Still at anchor in the Roads. Colonel Pritchard informs us he got
a telegram last night informing him that General Halleck would be at the
Fort at noon to day and give him further orders. The day is dull, nothing to
enliven it but the passing of steamboats and small sails in the harbor. A
Brittish man of war and a French lie near us.
Called Henry in the cabin, told him he would go from there to Richmond, gave
him $10, and told him to be a good, industrious, upright boy, and never to
gamble. Colonel Pritchard came to the cabin at 8 o'clock at night and told
Judge Reagan and myself that some officers in the Captain's room wished to
see us there. We went immediately and found Captain Fraley, of the
Tuscarora, and Captain Parker, of the war steamer, in the cabin. Captain
Fraley received us courteously, and told us that he had orders to take
Reagan and myself aboard the Tuscarora next day at 10 o'clock. He had come
over that night to give us notice that we might be ready. In reply to the
question of our destination, he told us Boston. I knew then that Fort Warren
was my place of confinement and imprisonment. I told him I feared the
climate would be too cool and damp for me, I should have greatly preferred
to go to Washington, if the authorities had so decided.
Before we left the Captain's office, General Wheeler and party came in. His
conference was with Captain Parker: we learned from what passed that Captain
Parker was to take them in his steamer in the morning to Fort Donaldson.
Reagan and I left General Wheeler in the office. I sent for Captain Moody,
who was a fellow prisoner with us, taken with Mr. Davis, and who had been a
prisoner of war at Fort Warren, to learn from him sonic of the prison
regulations there. He spoke in very favorable terms of them, said he had
been in several prisons, and he had been better treated at Fort Warren than
anywhere else. Being relieved of the suspense we had been in for several
days, Reagan and I went to our berths at an early hour. I slept but little,
thought of home, sweet home, saw plainly that I was not to be permitted to
see anyone there. This was the most crushing thought that filled my mind.
Death I felt I could meet with resignation, if such should be my fate, if I
could be permitted to
communicate with Linton and other dear ones while life should last.
May 21st: Anthony was not permitted to go with me, gave him $5 and same
advice I gave Henry, I gave him my leather trunk he had brought his clothes
in. Saw Mrs. Clay and requested her to write to Linton and Mrs. D. M. DuBose
the same thing my destination and present condition. We do not know what
is
to be done with Mr. Clay, or where he is to be sent. After that shall be
made known it is Mrs. Clay's intention to go North, if allowed, that is, if
her husband shall be confined. Yesterday evening we got New York papers, saw
the progress of the trial of the assassins. Mr. Clay expressed to me the
fullest confidence that nothing could be brought against him in such a
crime. He spoke in the strongest terms of deepest regret at it, said how
deeply he deplored it, and his explanation to that effect, when he first
heard of President Lincoln's assassination. We had a long talk this morning.
General Wheeler and those who went with him left at 6 A. M. I was up and
took my leave of them, the parting all around was sad. At 10 o'clock Captain
Fraley came up in a tug, came aboard the Clyde. Reagan and I were ready, we
took leave of all. Anthony and Henry looked very sad, Anthony stood by me to
the last. Mrs. Davis asked Captain Fraley if he could not go, he said that
he had inquired of the officer commanding the fleet, and he had informed him
that his orders related to only two persons. This closed the matter just as
I had looked for. I bade Anthony good bye, the last one. I had before
taken
leave of Mr. and Mrs. Davis, Mr. and Mrs. Clay, and Colonel Harrison. Upon
taking leave of Mr. Davis he seemed to be more affected than I had ever seen
him. He said nothing but good bye, and gave my hand a cordial squeeze. The
tone of the voice in uttering good bye evinced deep feeling and emotion.
With assistance I descended the rope ladder to the deck of the tug. All the
baggage being aboard, off we steamed to the Tuscarora.
THE ALEXANDER H. STEPHENS PRISON DIARY.
The CONFEDERATE VETERAN for May and June contained chapters from the prison
diary of Alexander H. Stephens. The increase of subscriptions had been so
great that the concluding chapter, in type for July, was withheld for a
brief review of the two former.
The diary may be regarded as a vivid record of how ignorant our people were
of what to expect from the victors. Even this able lawyer, who was assured
that the had faithful friends in high position on the Union side, had an
acutely painful dread of the consequences. Buying the book for record at
Fort Warren, near Boston, May 27, 1865, he wrote in the introduction: "It
may be interesting to himself hereafter, sometimes, should he be permitted
to live to refer to it." He was arrested May 11, at his home, Liberty Hall,
Crawfordville. There was a regular guard of soldiers under Gen. Upton to
take him in charge. Mr. Stephens seemed to feel greatly relieved when he
saw, by the order for his arrest, that it included Robert Toombs, and when
the officer went to Washington, Ga., and found that Toombs had
"flanked"
Upton, he was evidently much disappointed. He was kept in Atlanta on honor,
the guards being removed, and friends offered him money (in gold). He was
sent on a special train from Atlanta to his home at Crawfordville, that he
might have two hours to get clothing and make arrangements for his
indefinite stay in a Northern prison. At Augusta Jefferson Davis and family,
and Mr. and Mrs. C. C. Clay, of Alabama, were sent upon the same boat. They
had been sent from Atlanta just after Mr. .Stephens. Mr. Stephens was
permitted to take one of his servants on the journey.
Unhappily there was a break in our copy of the diary. This concluding
chapter begins with his transfer to the Tuscorora, as published in the
VETERAN, after leaving Mr. Davis and party on the Clyde.
The tide was coming right ahead of us at about six miles an hour, and it was
all that the stout seamen with their oars could do to make any head against
it. For some time it seemed as if we were drifting further off. Captain
Fraley called twice for the tug"send the tug" but he was not heard by
the
officer on the Tuscorora, and the tug did not come. After a long while we
reached the ship, but not without some wetting from the splashing of the
waves over the sides of the light boat. Right glad was I when we reached the
steps on the ship's side. On deck we were introduced to several officers,
Lieutenant Blue and others. The Captain took us to his cabin, showed us our
quarters we were to be in the cabin with him. There was but one berth or
stateroom in it. This the Captain said he would assign to me, while he and
Reagan would sleep on the circular sofa that ran around the cabin. I
declined depriving him of his room and bed. He said that it was no
deprivation, that he generally slept on the sofa or in a chair, that he
resigned it to me " in consideration of my age and past services to the
country." These were his words. He was very polite and courteous. When he
went on board the Clyde he took some strawberries to Mrs. Davis and Mrs.
Clay and the children of Mrs. Davis. He said he had known Mrs. Davis and
Mrs. Clay before.
1st October. Sunday. Another month is gone October is here, and I am here
too, in Fort Warren. How time flies, and how we become adapted to its
passages with its changes! If I had known in May last when I first reached
these walls that I should be here by an October sun it would have about
crushed me. But as it is, I am here, and I am more cheerful than I was then.
We walked out three times this beautiful day. I went to see Reagan in the
forenoon. Had a good long talk with him. He was transcribing his biography
in a blank book. Seemed to be oppressed, but not uncheerful.
My morning reading was in Psalms. The 119th came in my reading. Dr. called
and delivered messages from Mrs. Maj. A. She sent two photographs of
herself, out of which I was to select one for myself. One was a bust or head
view, the other was a portrait of the whole person in full dress. I chose
the latter. The boat whistles at Gallop Island. Oh ! if the boat should only
bring good news for me from Washington, my heart would leap for joy and in
gratitude, thanks and praise to God for his mercy, his kindness and his
deliverence.
Boat came, brought papers. No news, except that Hon. L. D. Walker has been
pardoned. So it goes. I don't complain of that, but I do complain of being
kept here to the hazard of my health and the ruin of my private affairs,
while all the leading men who forced the South into secession against my
efforts are not only permitted to go at large, but are pardoned. This is
gall and wormwood to me. It almost crazes my brain. It tempts me to mistrust
God. This is the most painful reflection of all. My agony of spirit today is
almost more than I can bear. The course of the administration at Washington
toward me is personal and vindictive. No other construction can be given to
their acts. If they had avowed it openly to my friends and not have
hypocritically pretended to be friendly disposed toward me, I should not
have been so much effected. An open enemy I can meet face to face and defy,
even if I fall under his blows, but a sneaking, hypocritical Jacob I have no
tolerance toward.
Judge Reagan came round this morning after the boat left and brought us the
joyous news that he had had an indulgence extended to him to visit his
friends generally, to mess with Linton and me (Linton Stephens was then on a
visit. Ed.), and that he is to be transferred from his damp underground cell
to a room on a level with the one now occupied by me. This was good news
indeed, and I felt exceedingly glad to hear it. He, Linton and I immediately
took a walk together on the rampart. The day was beautiful) but rather warm.
On our return Reagan and I played . We all took dinner together. * * * I
felt deeply mortified with myself for the irritation of spirit I permitted
myself to indulge in today, simply mortified that I had suffered myself to
give way for a moment to such sentiments or allow such feelings as I
expressed on the foregoing pages. Human nature is frail and weak. I was
smaating under a deep sense of wrong. The heart alone knows its own sorrows,
but then it was wrong to grow impatient under suffering conscious wrong. I
know it, I feel it. Oh, God forgive it, and above all, forgive my temptation
temporarily to distrust thy divine justice and mercy. Teach me in meekness,
resignation, patience and faith to bow to all thy dispensations, whatever
they be. Thy will be done! Oh, forgive me this great trespass as I forgive
all who trespass against or wrong me. May I with the same spirit as Christ
upon the cross say, " Father forgive them, they know not what they
do," even
in this wrong and injustice to me. Judge Reagan, Linton and I supped
together. I felt badly, thinking of my passion today. May the Lord forgive
it.
The patriotic effort to secure Liberty Hall for the public was about to fall
through when I had a conference with the eminent preacher, Rev. T. DeWitt
Talmage, and he became much concerned about it. He offered, if by his action
the money could be raised, to deliver four lectures in the largest cities of
Georgia, the proceeds to be given for this cause. Dr. Talmage was an admirer
and friend of Mr. Stephens, his uncle having been a minister at the South
and a chaplain of much prominence.
April 1894 Confederate Veteran
PRISON LIFE ON JOHNSON'S ISLAND
Capt. Charles W. Frazer, a brave soldier of the Fifth Confederate, was a prisoner on Johnson's Island, and his wife, through an influential friend, procured a pass to see her husband, which was written by President Lincoln's own hand on a visiting card. After an attempted escape by the prisoners this privilege was curtailed, and she was only permitted to see him at rare intervals, at a distance, which she endeavored to partially overcome by using an opera glass. It was on one of these occasions that the Captain's baby took her first step and uttered her first expression, " I'se a Yebel," having before made her first journey in an army wagon. Capt. Frazer was one of a detail to cut the grass off the graves of the prisoners who had died, and his wife, who remained in Sandusky to be as near to him as possible, having heard in some mysterious manner when he would serve, crossed to the Island and was watching him from a point as close as she was permitted to go, when the baby, recognizing her father from the picture her mother showed to her daily, clapped her hands and crawled toward him, a guard planted his bayonet between them, and as the baby pulled up by it to better reach her father, ordered peremptorily, "Take that child away!" "I do not understand the order," said Mrs. Frazer, "I thought
that this was a war of men, not one against women and babies." "She may have papers," suggested a Federal. "Well," said Mrs. Frazer, "if you think that, take her and search her." The sarcasm had its effect, and the baby was not removed, though the barrier was still held between father and child.
The poem, "My South! My South!" printed here first, and which has been justly styled her autobiography, was written by this " Captain's baby, and is one of the many tributes from her, whose love for her country has been to her a precious heritage.
MY SOUTH! MY SOUTH
Bend low, thou loved one, to my song of love,
Thy child of battle, daughter of the storm,
Whose infant years were cradled on thy shield,
Whose wondering eyes saw first thine armored form.
For I must sing thee, though thy fallen state
Left but a sword gleam for a trusting smile,
And gave the first print of my baby feet
Unto the prison earth of Johnson's Isle.
Yea, I will sing thee. though my pipes forget
And voice sometime the strain thou knowest well,
Remember love, thou couldst not close my ears
Against the music of the whizzing shell.
But if I pain thee with a martial prayer,
Mine first in war, mine last, in mantling peace,
Lay thou thy soft hand on my throbbing heart,
And bid the plaining of thy minstrel cease.
Thou art mine own, my beautiful, my love
I blame thee not, what cloud may come to me,
I give my faith into thy trustful arms,
All that I am, or hope, I yield to thee
Thy foot rests on the fairest spot of earth,
Thine eyes are full of heaven's holy blue,
The sunlit kiss of peace is on thy brow,
O thou, mine own, the beautiful, the true
Let my right hand forget her tricks of art Ere
I conceal the faith that lies in me,
And let my tongue forget to utter love
If I pay homage unto aught but thee
I trim my taper, but to seek the shrine
With thee I smile, with thee I breathe my sigh,
Yea, as thou goest, loved one, I will go,
And when thou diest, Beautiful, I die
VIRGINIA FRAZER BOYLE.
|