OUR CAPTURE BEFORE VICKSBURG




FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA:
ADVENTURES
WITHIN AND BEYOND THE UNION LINES:
EMBRACING A GREAT VARIETY OF
FACTS, INCIDENTS, AND ROMANCE OF THE WAR.
INCLUDING
THE AUTHOR'S CAPTURE AT VICKSBURG, MAY 3, 1863, WHILE RUNNING THE REBEL
BATTERIES; HIS IMPRISONMENT AT VICKSBURG, JACKSON, ATLANTA,
RICHMOND, AND SALISBURY; HIS ESCAPE AND PERILOUS
JOURNEY OF FOUR HUNDRED MILES TO THE
"UNION LINES AT KNOXVILLE.
BY


JUNTUS HENRI BROWNE,
SPEBIAL WARB ORRESPONDENT OF THE NEW YORK TRIBUNI.
4it g' lulnraxtons.
HARTFORD:
O. D. CASE AND COMPANY.
CHICAGO: GEO. & C. W. SHERWOOD.
LONDON: STEVENS BROTHERS,
17 Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, W. 0.
1865.




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865,
BY O. D. CASE & COMPANY,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the District of
Connecticut.




TO
THE   PRIVATE     SOLDIERS OF THE         UNION,
THE UNRECORDED AND FAMELESS HEROES
OF THE WAR,
"WHO DESERVE THE ETERNAL GRATITUDE OF THE REPUBLIC THEY
HAVE PRESERVED,
THIS UNPRETENDING VOLUME
IS ADMIRINGLY INSCRIBED.








PREFACE.
MOST first Books either are, or assume to be, written
at the urgent solicitation of that apocryphal class known
as Friends.
Having a very limited acquaintance with that somewhat intangible portion of the community, I would state
that this unpretending Volume owes its parturition to
the request of my publishers, who, unsolicited, offered
me such terms as a gentleman of very slender income (his
estates in Castile being entirely inconvertible in Wall
street), and somewhat expensive habits, could ill afford
to refuse.
I had no idea, on my return to Freedom and Civili.
zation, of preparing any work for the press, and but for
the reason named-the War being virtually at an endI would have subsided into the pursuits of Peace, and
the regular duties of Journalism.
The contents of "Four Years in Secessia", are, for
the most part, pieces of patchwork, stitched together
with a needle that grew extremely rusty in the long
dampness of Rebel prisons.
The little labor on the book has been hurriedly and
irregularly performed, under very adverse circumstances;
— few persons who have not endured a long and odious




PREFACE.
confinement can understand how completely it unfits the
mind for the duties of composition;-yet, such as it is, it
is offered with hesitation, as far below the standard the
work might have otherwise attained.
The different chapters are mainly but the records of
personal observation and experience, without any attempt at high coloring or desire for sensation-merely
plain facts homely grouped together; and must gain
whatever interest they may possess, rather from accuracy
of statement and earnestness of purpose than from nature
of incident or method of presentation.
THE AUTHoa.
NEW YORK, May 1st, 1865.




ILLTJSTRATION S.
PAGB
OUR CAPTURE BEFORE VICKSBURG................Frontispiece.
THE BOHEMIANS AS HOUSEKEEPERS.........................     42
BOHEMIA AS A BELLIGERENT.................................   66
GUNBOAT FIGHT AT FORT PILLOW......................... 170
UNION BUSHWHACKERS ATTACKING REBEL CAVALRY...... 346
THE ESCAPED CORRESPONDENTS ENJOYING THE NEGRO'S
HOSPITALITY............................................ 3T0
CONFERENCE    OF   THE   CORRESPONDENTS     WITH    BUSHWHACKERS................................................ 386
THE BOHEMIANS CLIMBING THE MOUNTAINS............... 394








OONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
THE WAR CORRESPONDENT.
His Anomalous Position.-A Ruralist's Idea of a Bohemian.-How the Name
was Obtained.-Genesis and Purpose of the War Correspondent.-His Duty
and Obligation.-The Difficulty of his Task.-His Habits, Peculiarities, and
Defects.-What he Requires of the Service.-His Just Claims..    13
CHAPTER II.
THE FREMONT CAMPAIGN.
Life in Jefferson City, Mo.-Effect of the Sudden Change from Metropolitan
Life.-A Contrast to the Glory of War.-A Romantic Soldier.-A Camp
Picture.-The Original Bohemian Brigade......    23
CHAPTER III.
CAMP-LIFE AT SYRACUSE, MO.
Effects of Camp-Life.-Sentimental Reflections on War.-A Modern Penthesilea.Woman's Military Influence Beautifully Exemplified.-The Rural Females of
Missouri.-Their Unpoetic Appearance......           21
CHAPTER IV.
A NIGHT WITH THE FLEAS.
Unanticipated Attack.-Inexplicable Sensations.-Prosaic Revelation.-Our Intense Suffering.-A Novel Remedy.-Extraordinary Ride through a Tempestuous Night.-Finale of the Tragi-Comedy....33
CHAPTER V.
ROMANCE AND REALITY IN CAMP.
Conversion of a Fair Secessionist.-Disadvantage of Securing a Guard.-A Grand
Mule Concert.-Sonorous Imitations of the Opera.-High-Art Jackassic].
Performances.-Terror Excited by the Unique Entertainment,.




4                             CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VI.
ON THE MARCH.
Brutality of Officers.-Shameful Treatment of a Woman.-Change of Base.-A
Model Missouri Hotel.-Resumption of the March.-Bohemian Philosophy.Its Necessity in the Field.........    42
CHAPTER VIL
WILSON'S CREEK.
Visit to the Battle-Ground.-Its Appearance.-Cause of Sigel's Discomfiture.Scenes on the Field.-Ghastly Spectacles.-The Sleeping Camp.-A Skyey
Omen.............          46
CHAPTER VIII.
ZAGONYIS RIDE TO DEATH.
Charge of the Fremont Body-Guard.-Its Desperate Character.-The Heavy Loss.
-Scene of the Engagement.-Description of the Battle.-Progress of the
Ride.-Flight of the Foe.-After the Struggle.....   49
CHAPTER IX.
THE RETROGRADE MOVEMENT.
The Return to Rolla.-A   Ghastly Jest.-A Brace of Fair Bohemians.-The
Discrediting Effect of Camp Attire.-A Night in a Barn.-Potency of an
Army Pass............55
CHAPTER X.
SECESSION     IN  MISSOURI.
The Feminine Secessionists of St. Louis.-Their Parrot-like Raving.-Their Resemblance to Barnaby Rudge's Raven.-Harmlessness of Petticoated Traitors.
-Sale of Rebel Property.-Curious Scene.-A Mysterious Article.. 61
CHAPTER XI.
BATTLE OF DONELSON.
March from Fort Henry to the Field.-Troubles of the Correspondents.-Difficulty
of Subsistence.-Courage of our Soldiers.-Examples of Sacrifice and Heroism.
-Gallant Charge.-Amateur Sharpshooting.-Mortification of the Enemy
after the Surrender.-Desperation of the Rebels.-Repudiation of the Five to
One Boast.-Ghastly Wounds.-Touching Incidents....   66
CHAPTER XII.
AFTER THE BATTLE.
Extracts from my Note-Book.-Sensations of a Reasoning Man Under Fire.-A
Novel in Brief.-A Faithless Woman and a Sacrificed Lover.-A Juvenile




CONTENTS.


5


Hero.-Difficulty of Dying on the Field.-Ultra-professional Correspondents.
Ludicrous Incidents of their Journalistic Devotion....    78
CHAPTER XIII.
OCCUPATION OF COLUMBUS.
The Departure for the Rebel Stronghold.-Uncertainty of the Situation.-Doubts
and Apprehensions.-Pleasant Discovery.-Enthusiasm on Board the Flotilla.
-Abortive Defenses of the Enemy.-Evidences of Excessive Orthodoxy.Superstition and Swagger.-Pikes and Long Knives in Abundance.    87
CHAPTER XIV.
BATTLE OF PEA RIDGE.
The Three Days' Fighting.-Desperate Struggle for the Possession of the Train.
-Sigel's Heroism.-Tremendous Contest for the Guns.-Hand-to-Hand Combats.-An Epic of War.-Triumph of the Republic.-Retreat of the Rebels, 93
CHAPTER XV.
PROSE AND POESY OF WAR.
Facts and Fancies from Pea Ridge.-The Preservative Power of Tobacco.-A
Song-Book doing the Work of a Bible.-Mysterious Instance of Sympathy.
-Another Fabian dei Franchi.-Painful Fate of a Union Lieutenant.-A
Reckless Indianian.-A Magnanimous Rebel.-A Gallant Iowa Colonel,   103
CHAPTER XVI.
INDIAN ATROCITIES.
Aboriginal Outrages and Barbarities at Pea Ridge.-Minds of the Savages
Poisoned by the Rebels.-Whisky and Gunpowder Stimulant.-The Indians
Scalp Friend and Foe Alike.-Slaughter of the Red Men by their own
Allies............    109
CHAPTER XVII.
BENIGHTED ARKANSAS.
Semi-Barbarism of the People.-Benton County as an Example.-Extent of the
Conscription.-Modern Harpies in the Shape of Women.-The Loyal Sentiment of the State.-Chivalrous Mode of its Suppression...    113
CHAPTER XVIII.
DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI
A Weary Siege.-Inaneness of Existence on the Flotilla.-Monotony and Dreariness of the Scenes.-Melancholy Character of the Mighty River.-Out in the
Night.-A Celestial Symbol.-A Canine Convert.-A Perplexed Correspondert. and Would-be-Bohemian.......    117




6                             CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XIX.
INAUGURATION OF BATTERY-RUNNING.
The Carondelet and Pittsburg Defying the Guns of Island No. 10.-Preparations
for the Hazardous Enterprise.-Scenes on the Flag-Ship.-Departure of the
Pittsburg.-An Anxious Period.-The Artillery of the Rebels and of Heaven
-Thunder, Lightning, and Gunpowder.-Safe Passage of the Union Vessels............. 1.....123
CHAPTER XX.
SURRENDER OF ISLAND NO. X.
A Mysterious Vessel astern.-Preparations for Battle on the Benton.-Proposition from the Enemy to Surrender.-Unconditional Terms asked.-The
Rebel Prisoners and their Opinions.-Curious Scene.-Feminine Accompaniments to, a Siege.......... 128
CHAPTER XXI. 1
SHILOH.
Desperate Determination of the South.-Confidence of the Enemy.-Cause of
the Early Action.-The First Day's Fighting.-Fearful Struggle.-Intensity
of the Excitement.-Recklessness of Life.-Panic-stricken Regiments.-Arrival of General Buell.-The Second Day's Fighting.-Defeat of the Foe. 135
CHAPTER XXII
OFF   FORT    PILLOW.
Ravages of the Musquitos.-Their Secession Proclivities.-Battles between the
Insects and Correspondents.-Anecdote of General Pope.-Discovery of an
Unexpected Official.......... 147
CHAPTER XXIII.
LIFE ON THE FLOTILLA.
A Profane Captain.-Piety of Commodore Foote.-Interruption of Religious
Service.-Easter Sunday on the Flag-ship.-Horrible Persecutions of Unionists
in Tennessee and Arkansas.-A Loyal Man Crucified.-Cold-Blooded Murders in the South........... 151
CHAPTER XXIV.
FEATURES OF SECESSIA.
Melancholy Suicide of a Slave.-Triumph of the American Eagle.-Reminiscence
of John A. Murrell-His Decease a Loss to the Secession Cause.. 156




CONTENTS.


7


CHAPTER XXV.
MAYING IN      ARKANSAS.
A Beautiful Day.-Prodigality of Nature.-Assault of Gnats and Sand-Flies.Ridiculous Adventures.-An Altered Physiognomy.-Saturnine Reflections.A New Jeremiad.............. 159
CHAPTER XXVI.
COMMODORE FOOTE'S FAREWELL.
Impressive Scene on the Flag-Ship.-Address of the Commodore.-Emotion of
the Sailors.-Exciting Tug-Chase........ 164
CHAPTER XXVII
NAVAL ENGAGEMENT AT FORT PILLOW.
Unexpected Appearance of the Hostile Vessels.-Commencement of the Attack.
-Character of the Enemy's Boats.-Warm Work on a Warm Day.-The Rebel
Sharpshooters.-A Gallant Captain and Determined Lieutenant.-Explosion of
a Rebel Ram.-A Paymaster acting as Gunner.-Incidents of the Fight.Victory Decided in our Favor........ 169
CHAPTER XXVIII.
FALL OF MEMPHIS.
A Gasconahing Rebel.-The Brilliant Gunboat Fight.-The Vessels Engaged.The Nautical Situation.-Commencement of the Action.-Union Rams Taking
Part.-Increased Warmth of the Contest.-Sinking of the General Lovell.Magnanimity of our Seamen.-Flight of the Southern Commodore.-Explosion
of the Jeff. Thompson.-Harmony of Northerners and Southerners after the
City's Occupation......              179
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE EXPEDITION UP WHITE RIVER.
Its Object and Strength.-Cautious Progress.-Character of the Stream.-Desperation of the Arkansans.-Progress of the Fleet.-The Engagement near
St. Charles.-Position of the Hostile Fortifications.-Explosion of the Mound
City.-Terrible Destruction by Steam.-Horrible Scenes of Suffering.-Inhumanity and Barbarity of the Rebels.-Their Defeat and Punishment. 192
CHAPTER XXX.
THE BRAGG-BUELL CAMPAIGN.
Trip from Louisville to Frankfort.-The occupation of the Kentucky Capital by




8


CONTENTS.


the Enemy.-Sudden Conversion of Romantic Women to Loyalty.-The Inauguration of the Pseudo-Governor.-Sudden Exodus of the Usurpers; their
Strange Self-Delusion.-Bohemians in the Horse Market.-The Battle of Perryville.-A Journalistic Rebel Colonel.-Sketch of John H. Morgan..  201
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE RAM ARKANSAS DEFYING OUR FLEET.
The Expedition up the Yazoo.-Unexpected Meeting of the Rebel Monster.Her Engagement with the Union Vessels.-Their Discomfiture and Retreat.Her Passage of the Union Flotilla.-Her Exposure to a Terrible Fire.-Explosion on Board the Lancaster.-Casualties on both Sides.-Bohemian Reflections on Running Batteries.........    213
CHAPTER XXXII
PLANTATION     LIFE IN    THE SOUTH.
Expedition in Search of Cotton, Cattle, and Guerrillas.-Plantations along the
Mississippi.-Anxiety of the Negroes for Freedom.-Sad Scenes on Shore.An African Andromache.-A Miscegenated Southern Family..    224
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CAPTURE OF THE TRIBUNE CORRESPONDENTS.
Reflections on our Return to Freedom.-The Effect of Imprisonment.-Rapidity
of Restoration to One's Normal Condition.-Running the Batteries of Vicksburg.-Incident of the Undertaking.-Terrible Fire from the Rebel Stronghold.-Complete Wreck of our Expedition.-Brilliant Prospects for Dying.Adventures of the Bohemians.-Grotesque Appearance of the Prisoners, 229
CHAPTER XXXIV
OUR   IMPRISONMENT AT VICKSBURG.
Consignment to a Mississippi Jail.-Repulsiveness of the Place.-Character of
the Inmates.-Rebel Idea of Comfortable Quarters.-A Fragrant Spot.Parole of the Captives.-Our Removal to the Court-House.-Courteous Treatment-Kindness of the Citizens.-Peculiarities of Union Men.-Miscomprehension of the Enemy..........    240
CHAPTER XXXV.
AT JACKSON AND ATLANTA.
The Marble-Yard Prison.-Visit to the Appeal Office.-Kindness of the Editors.Tremendous Excitement and Panic at the Mississippi Capital.-A Terrified and
Fugacious Mayor.-The Mississippian Office Preparing for an Exodus.Curiosity Excited by the Yankees.-Southern Fondness for Discussion and
Rhodomontade.-Our Continuous Inflictions along the Route.-Incidents of
the Journey.-The Whitehall Street Prison.-A  Pertinacious Hibernian.Abusive Editorial in a Newspaper, and its Effects...    241




CONTENTS.


9


CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE LIBBY PRISON.
Arrival at Richmond.-Our Reception from the Union Officers.-Mistaken Idea
about Human Endurance.-The First Shock in Prison.-Entomological Researches.-Sickness and Sentiment.-Violation of The Tribune Correspondents'
Paroles-Character of the Rebel Commissioner.-Determination of the Enemy
to Hold us to the End of the War.......    257
CHAPTER XXXVII
THE LIBBY PRISON.
Arrival and Release of Union Officers.-Therapeutic Power of the Fall of Vicksburg.-Its Wholesome Effect on the Prisoners.-Gradual Resignation to Confinement.-Means of Killing Time.-Journalistic Desire to Write, and the
Impossibility of its Indulgence.-Exhibition of the Loyal Captives.-Summer
Costumes.-Cruelty of our Keepers.-Petty Meanness of the Commandant.The Drawing of Lots.-Horror of the Scene.-Barbarous Treatment of Citizens.-Consideration Shown the Officers.-Removal of The Tribune Correspondents.............    263
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE   KITCHEN    CABINET AT THE LIBBY.
Disappointment and Disgust in Prison Life.-The Union Officers as Servants and
Scullions.-Journalistic Cooking and its Trials.-The First Breakfast.-Horrors of the Culinary Art.-Interior View of the Kitchen.-Grotesque and
Mortifying Scenes.-Battles of the Saucepans and Skillets.-Complaint,
Clamor, and Confusion....                           277
CHAPTER XXXIX.
CELL-LIFE IN    RICHMOND.
Prison within a Prison.-Full Appreciation of Sterne's Starling.-Evil Destiny of
The Tribune Correspondents.-One of our many Failures and its Result.Interior View of a Rebel Cell.-The Rare Society we found there.-Glance at
the Gross Corruption in Secessia.-Novel Means of making Confederate Currency.-Horr6rs of Southern Dungeons....                284
CHAPTER XL.
CASTLE THUNDER.
Contrast between the Castle and Libby.-A Southern Bombastes.-Cruel Treatment of Prisoners.-Absurd Charges against Innocent Men.-The Prison a
Regular Bastile.-Energetic and Enterprising Captives.-Difficulty of Obtaining Supplies Sent from the North.-Peculation and Plundering of the Chivalry.-Their Begging and Trading Proclivities.-Their Ridiculous Assumptions
and Exposure.-Bohemian Arrivals.-Comparative Comfort of the Correspondents.-Rebel Anxiety to Purchase Treasury Notes.-Campaigning with
the Small Pox........                 295




10


CONTENTS.


CHAPTER XLI.
EXECUTION OF A LOYAL TENNESSEAN.
Brief Account of his Antecedents.-His Attachment to the Union Cause.-His
Betrayal.-His Cruel Treatment in Prison.-A Second Judas.-Conviction on
False Evidence.-His Wretched Condition.-The Closing Scene.-An Inhuman
Detective.-Revolting Spectacle at the Gallows.....           307
CHAPTER XLII.
SALISBURY PENITENTIARY.
Our Removal from Richmond to Salisbury.-Character of our Companions.Troubles of Transportation.-Strange Scene and Sensation at Petersburg.Arrival at the North Carolina Prison.-Interior View of our Quarters.-A
Heavy Blow for my Confrere.-The Horrors of Southern Captivity.-Difficulty
of their Realization..........    313
CHAPTER XLIII.
PHOTOGRAPHS OF HORROR.
Great Influx of Prisoners at Salisbury.-Barbarity of the Ensmy.-Intense
Suffering and Wholesale Murder of the Captives.-Pen Pi tures of the
Prison.-Agonizing Scenes.-Enlistment of our Soldiers ia the Rebel Service.-Shuddering Strangeness of the Past.-The Secretary cf War Responsible for the Sacrifice of Ten Thousand Lives.....    321
CHAPTER XLIV.
TUNNELS AND TUNNELING.
Respect for Tunnels.-Their attractive and absorbing Power.-Tunneling at
Castle Thunder.-Difficulty of their Construction.-The Libby Prison Enterprise.-Uncertainty of their Completion.-Frequency of Excavations at Salisbury.-Desires to obtain Subterranean Freedom.-Ideal Regrets         333
CHAPTER XLV.
MUGGING.
The Meaning of the Term.-Who the Muggers were.-Their Plan of Operation.
-Character of their Victims.-Indifference of the Authorities on the Subject.
-Flogging of Northern Deserters. —Their Cruel Treatment.-Mugging in
Richmond and Salisbury.-Its Reduction to a System.-Our Own Soldiers in
the Business.-A Vigilance Committee Proposed.....    339
CHAPTER XLVI.
DESPERATE ESCAPE.
Constant Effort of Prisoners for Freedom.-Practicability versus Planning.-A
Trio of Desperadoes.-Cause of their Extraordinary Gayety.-Their Remarkable Exodus.................          347




CONTENTS.


11


CHAPTER XLVII.
UNION BUSHWHACKERS.
Cause of Bushwhackers.-Repulsiveness of the Custom.-Its Excuse.-Their
Sufferings and Wrongs.-Collisions with Home-Guards.-Victories of Union
Men.-Terror of their Name.-The Vendetta in the Mountains.-Virtues of
the Southern Loyalists.-War of Extermination.-A Fearful Avenger,  350
CHAPTER XLVIII.
THE ESCAPE.
Our Efforts Useless in the Salisbury Hospitals.-Bohemian Talent for Forgery.Mode of our Exodus from the Penitentiary.-Sensations of Freedom.-Our
First Night in a Barn.-A Long Fast.-A Rebel Officer Sound on the Main
Question.-Commencement of the Journey toward Liberty.-Our First Two
Nights' March.-Hunger, Cold, and Exhaustion.-Our Assistance from the
Negroes............ 358
CHAPTER XLIX.
THE MARCH TO FREEDOM.
The Third, Fourth, and Fifth Nights Out.-Missing the Road.-Extremely Cold
"Weather.-Our Sufferings in a Barn.-The Slaves our Faithful Friends.Torture of the Boot Revived.-Our Pursuit and Masterly Retreat.-Our Reinforcement with Mules and Whisky.-Incidents along the Route.-Arrival
in Wilkes County.-The Haven of Rest...... 369
CHAPTER L.
THE HAVEN OF REST.
The Union Settlement in Wilke, County.-Frequent Change of Base.-Christmas,
in a Barn.-Ghostly Marches.-Alarms and Adventures in Yadkin County.A Bohemian Model Artist.-An Eventful Night.-Storm and Sentiment.Love-Making in a Tempest.-Parting with our Loyal Friends.-Their bevotion and Regret.-Battles between Unionists and Rebel Home-Guards.-Inextinguishable Fidelity of the People..                       377
CHAPTER LI.
THE MARCH      ONWARD.
Accession of Escaped Prisoners.-Resumption of our Journey. —Excessive
Roughness of the Route.-Character of North Carolina Roads.-Flanking of
Wilkesboro'.-Losing our Way.-Crossing the Yadkin.-Skeptical Women.Interview with Bushwhackers.-Consoling Counsel.-Passage of the Blue
Ridge.-Hard March over the Mountains.-Narrow      Escape from  Union
Rifles.-Contradictory Reports about our Lines....   386
CHAPTER LII
THE HEGIRA IN       EAST TENNESSEE.
Traveling in that Region.-Passage of the Piney and Stone Mountains.-Cross.
2




12


CONTENTS.


ing the Watauga River.-Invitation to a Frolic.-Peculiar Reason for our Declination.-Recklessness Engendered by our Situation.-Meeting with Dan
Ellis, the Pilot, and his Party.-His Kindness and Generosity.-The Effect
of Apple Brandy.-Mysterious Disappearance of a Bohemian.-Severe Marching.-Strain on the Nervous System.-Reports of the Rebels in our Vicinity.
-A Valuable Steed and his Fate.-Anxiety of our Guides to Meet the
Enemy............    399
CHAPTER       LIII.
DAN   ELLIS, THE FAMOUS PILOT.
Sketch of his Life and Career.-His Uncompromising Loyalty.-Efforts to Suppress Him.-His Success as a Pilot.-Mode of Joining his Expeditions.-His
Adventures and Narrow Escapes.-His Attachment to his Carbine.-His
Opinion of the Confederacy.-A Rebel Officer's Views of his Usefulness to
the Union Cause.........    409
CHAPTER LIV.
THE NAMELESS HEROINE-UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES
ONCE MORE.
Pursuit of the Enemy.-Alarm and Separation of our Party.-Our Fair Guide.Appearances and Antecedents.-Our Continued March.-Confiscation of
Horses.-Our Last Night Out.-Sensations on Approaching the Union Lines.
-Chagrin of the Rebels at our Escape.-Their Absurd Stories about the
Departed Bohemians...    *....    417
CHAPTER LV.
THE SOUTH AND THE WAR.
"The Popular Idea of the South.-Its Fallaciousness.-Character of the Southerners.-Thefr Best Society.-Slavery and its Pernicious Influence.-The
Real Cause of the Rebellion.-The Great Revolution in Public Opinion.-Disgraceful History of the Past.-Our National Atonement...   432
CHAPTER LVI.
THE FUTURE OF THE SOUTH.
"Its Undeveloped Resources.-Its Wealthy Planters and the Northern Farmers.Slave Labor and Its Defects.-The Blighting Effect of the Peculiar Institution.-Contrast between the Free and Slave States.-Occupation of Secessia
by the Yankees.-The Changes Consequent thereupon.-The Much-Vexed
Negro Question.-The Rights of the Freedmen...        441
CONCLUSION................       441




FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.
CHAPTER I.
THE WAR CORRESPONDENT.
His Anomalous Position.-A Ruralist's Idea of a Bohemian. —How the Name
was obtained.-Genesis and Purpose of the War Correspondent.-His Duty
and Obligation.-The Difficulty of his Task.-His Habits, Peculiarities, and
Defects.-What he requires of the Service.-His Just Claims, &c.
DURING the few days I have passed in the Free States
since the breaking out of the Rebellion, I have been so
often questioned about the province, purpose, and habits
of a War Correspondent, that I deem it well, in the initial
chapter of this volume, to state what manner of animal he
is, and what are his peculiarities.
That the War Correspondent is a hybrid, neither a
soldier nor a citizen; with the Army, but not of it; is
present at battles, and often participating in them, yet
without any rank or recognized existence, has mystified
not a few, and rendered his position as anomalous as undesirable.
" Do you belong to the Army?" inquired a bumpkin,
riding up beside myself and a couple of journalistic companions, as we were moving toward Fayetteville during




14


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


the Bragg-Buell campaign in Kentucky, in the autumn
of 1862. "Yes," was the answer. "Are you soldiers?"
"No." "Are you officers?"  "No." "Are you sutlers?"
"No." "What are you, then?" "War Correspondents."
" Oh, that's what you are, is it?" and after this comment
on our response, he seemed lost in reflection the most profound. Fully a minute must have passed, when his face
brightened, and he seemed to have solved some mental
problem.    "Oh, well, boys, you're all right.    War
Correspondents, eh?   Why, they're the fellows that
fought in the Revolution!"
Droll idea that of the Bohemians, as they have been
christened, from their nomadic, careless, half-literary,
half-vagabondish life; but not much more so than far
more intelligent persons entertain of them. What they
are, and what they do, I will endeavor to explain.
The War Correspondent is the outgrowth of a very
modern civilization; though Xenophon and Julius Cwsar
were early examples of the profession. They, however,
told the story of their own deeds, and the nineteenthcentury Bohemians narrate the acts of others; make
their name and fame without themselves gaining any
glory.
They are the outgrowth of the great and constantly
augmenting power of the Press, and were first fully
developed and their influence felt during the Crimean
contest. There were War Correspondents before that
day: in the Napoleonic struggle for universal domination, and in our own little affair, as it now appears, with
Mexico; but, until the time mentioned, it had not become
a regular and recognized department of military-civic life.




THE WAR CORRESPONDENT.


15


Since the first gun discharged at Fort Sumter awoke the
American world to arms, War Correspondence on this
side of the Atlantic has been as much an avocation as
practising law or selling dry goods. Every newspaper,
of prominence in the metropolitan cities, has had its Correspondents in the field and with the Navy. No army in
the East or West but has had a journalistic representative. No expedition of importance has set out without
its writing medium between it and New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Cincinnati, Chicago, and St. Louis.
The War Correspondent is the proper and natural
medium between the Army and Navy and the people at
home, and ought to be, and is generally, the purest, because the only unprejudiced medium between the military
and civil phases of existence. He only has, as a general
thing-and there should be no exceptions-no friends to
reward, and no foes to punish. He is at his post to relate
what he sees; to applaud valor and merit wherever
found; to point out abuses and blunders that would not
otherwise be reached, save through the endless duration
of military investigations and courts-martial. His duty is
to illustrate the situation so far as is prudent; to describe
the movements, actions, and combinations of the forces;
in a word, to photograph the life and spirit of the combatants for the benefit of the great Public, united to them
by blood and sympathy, and who thrill and suffer with
the gallant warriors, and mourn over and honor the heroic
dead.
Such being the duty and obligation-and it should be
a solemn one-of the Correspondent, he has as much place
and fitness in the field as the Commander-in-Chief; and is




16


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


as much entitled to consideration.  That he is not what
he should be often, is true of him, as it is of every other
class; and that many of his profession have, by unworthy
conduct, reflected discredit upon its members, is equally
true. The misfortune is, that the unworthy, by their
assurance, carelessness, and lack of principle, give such
false impressions of the entire tribe, that I marvel not a
most wholesome prejudice exists against them on the part
of many officers.
The ill-starred Bohemian has a most delicate and difficult
task to perform. He must do his duty, and yet offend no
one. He must praise, but not censure. He must weave
chaplets of roses without thorns for the brows of vanity,
and applaud modest merit withott wounding pompous
conceit. Every thing is expected of him-impossibilities
and virtues more than human. Few give him commendation; yet many are willing to denounce him. What he
does well passes in silence; what he does ill is blazoned
to his shame.
War Correspondence is a most thankless office. The
Correspondent may do, and dare, and suffer; but who
yields him credit? If he die in the service by disease or
casualty, it is thought and declared by many that he had
no business there. The officers frequently dislike him,
because they have not received what they conceive to be
their meed of praise; and the people do not appreciate
him. So, on the whole, he is always between Sylla and
Charybdis, and never avoids one without encountering
the other.
No disposition have I to laud my profession; but I do
think its members are unkindly and ungratefully treated.




THE WAR CORRESPONDENT.


17


I have known many of them intimately, of course; and
while I have been called to blush for some, I can testify
to the high and noble qualities of more.
As a class they are brave, loyal, talented, and honorable
gentlemen; a little too prone, perhaps, to recklessness of
conduct and statement, and unduly sensitive about their
own dignity and the importance of the Press. They believe
implicitly in the aphorism: Cedant arma togce, and do not
always understand that the customs of Peace are incompatible with the exigencies of War. Yet, in the main,
they perform their duty conscientiously, and deserve more
kindly of the Army, the Navy, and the general Public, than
they receive.
The worst feature of their profession is-and they deplore
it as much as any one-they are compelled, from the great
competition in respect to news, to write up their accounts
so rapidly, and forward them so early, that correctness of
statement and excellence of style are often precluded.
When they write their letters, as I have seen them, in the
midst of action; on their knee and upon the ground; in
crowded railway cars and on thronged transports; under
every variety of adverse circumstance, I have wondered,
and still wonder, at their fluency, propriety, and exactness.
They certainly accomplish marvels, considering their surroundings and facilities, and at least suggest what they
might do if leisure and opportunity were given them.
The Correspondents have figured in the casualties again
and again; have been killed, and wounded, and captured;
have, perhaps, had quite their share of the accidents of
war. Yet, on the whole, they have been rather fortunate,
for they go so recklessly hither and thither on the march




18


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


and in action, wherever their humor or. fancy prompts,
that it seems strange a larger number have not lost life,
limb, and freedom.
They have splendid opportunities for observation, being
a privileged body, under no orders, and consequently at
liberty to roam when and where they please. They have
probably seen more of the romance of the War than any
other class of men in the Army-much of which they have
not given to the public, and which they cannot give conveniently or prudently until the struggle is over.
They usually enter some officer's mess, on taking the
field; have their own horses; pay their proportion of the
expenses; and live exactly as the officers do, except that
they are not subject to orders. During a battle they can
go where they list-to the skirmish line or to the rear; to
the right or left wing; with the infantry or artillery.
If they have any fondness-and many of them havefor fighting, they can always be accommodated. I have
more than once seen them in the field, musket in hand,
and frequently trying their skill as sharpshooters. They
very often act as voluntary aides on the staff of General
Officers, and have, in numerous instances, played a conspicuous and important part in engagements. They have
again and again joined hazardous expeditions for which
volunteers have been called; have gone on perilous raids
and scouts; run batteries, and taken risks purely from a
love of adventure-to have the experience-which is a very
natural desire with the poetico-philosophic temperament.
They have done a number of what many would call very
foolish and reckless, though certainly courageous, actsall the more courageous because they had no inducement




THE WAR CORRESPONDENT.


19


of glory, and would not at all have been honored as an
officer or a soldier would if they had fallen, as they sometimes have, in what would be considered obedience to a
freak or feeling, instead of a conviction of duty.
" Why do they not enter the service regularly?" I presume has been often asked, " and so do some good?" They
perform their part as Correspondents, would be a fair answer. They do good, though in a different way, just as
much as the Captain of a battery, or the Lieutenant of
cavalry, or the Major of an infantry regiment does. They
are, in my judgment, as much a portion of the Army or
Navy as any of the officers of the Army or Navy, and
render perchance as essential, though less interested and
heralded, service.
Moreover, I suspect the Bohemians, from a certain impatience of restraint and a Shelley-like hatred of obedience,
are often opposed to entering the ranks or accepting a
comihission. They want more freedom than a regular
connection with the Army or Navy gives them; but that
such fantastic scruples are not infrequently removed is
shown by the number who have entered both branches of
the service.
The profession of War Correspondence has, it seems to
me, declined somewhat during the past two years. Or it
may be that I see no more the names of those who were
in the field when I passed out of it into a Rebel Prison,
and fancy the new men inferior to the old campaigners
because I do not know them. This supposition is quite
probable, and I am very willing it should be regarded as
the cause of the apparent decadence.
One thing is certain, however. There has been so much




20


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


inharmony between the Officers and Correspondents, so
many unpleasant jarrings and misunderstandings, that
most of the gentlemen who were in the field, when I had
any knowledge of it, have resigned their positions and
taken new ones. There are some of my retired intimates
who insist that a gentleman cannot be a Correspondent
without detracting from his dignity, or abrogating a portion of his proper pride. I have not found it so in the
Past; I trust I shall not in the Future. I am aware there
are officers-some of very high standing-who are absurdly and causelessly prejudiced against the Bohemians;
but I cannot perceive why the two should not be en rapport, and administer to each other's advantage.
That the Correspondent ought to have some fixed and
recognized position in the Army and Navy, or be expelled
from both, there can be little question. There is no middle
ground. Either he has full right there, or he has not.
Then recognize or remove him. He is always in the field,
and always will be; but he is really regarded, so far as
the Regulations go, as a kind of camp-follower or hangeron. Our readers remember, no doubt, the trouble that
occurred between General Halleck and the Bohemians
before Corinth in the summer of 1862, which seemed very
unwise and unnecessary on that officer's part, and which,
I am glad to say, has never been repeated.
If the Correspondent had a defined position, it would
be far more agreeable to him; for, however well he may
be treated, it is rather unpleasant to know that he is, to a
certain extent, merely tolerated. The Bohemians with
whom I have associated have always been politely received by the officers, often courted and flattered;




THE WAR CORRESPONDENT.


21


"but still that does not remove the objection of which I
have complained.   Accept them   entirely, or suppress
them utterly. They have complete right there, as I
have said; but their right must be established before the
genuine gentlemen of the profession can feel altogether at
one with themselves and perfectly at their ease.
The Bohemians have faults not a few, as has been
stated; but they are the best abused class of which I have
any knowledge. They are too much inclined to publish
their information before prudence and patriotism permit;
but that is the fault of their employers, and ought to be
wholly discouraged. The man who can forget the duty
he owes his country in his desire to serve the journal he
represents, ought to be disgraced and punished.
The Bohemians generally give the facts about as they
are, and to few of their letters from the field are exceptions taken unless by those officers-alas, how many!who insist that their company, regiment, brigade or division, did all the fighting, and saved the fortunes of the
day.
It is well known to all veteran campaigners that every
soldier and commander has a different story to tell, but
each regards it as his religious obligation to praise his
own company or corps, at the expense of all others.
Such jealousy, envy, and heart-burning as are in the service, are painful to any and every true patriot, and prove
that, after all that has been said, " Our Special" or " Our
Own" is more trustworthy, and has less motive for misrepresentation than any other individual on land or sea.
We should look leniently on the Bohemian, and will, I
apprehend, when we reflect how extremely difficult his




22             FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.
duty is, and how utterly impossible it is to give general
satisfaction. Let us yield him some credit, if not for
what he does, for what he refrains from doing; and if we
look into his life and avocation, we will find he is far
more sinned against than sinning, and less a journalist
than a patriot; that he undergoes hardship, and exposes
himself to dangers because he is earnest and loyal, and
truly devoted to our great and glorious cause.




THE FREMONT CAMPAIGN.


23


CHAPTER II.
THE FREMONT CAMPAIGN.
Life in Jefferson City, Mo.-Effect of the Sudden Changes from Metropolitan
Life.-A Contrast to the Glory of War.-A Romantic Soldier.-A Camp
Picture.-The Original Bohemian Brigade.
THE Fremont campaign was the first in which I fairly
took the field, and, consequently, many things impressed
me then, that, later in the War, would not have affected
me at all.
The prominent features of that campaign have passed
into history, and would not bear repetition here. Therefore I shall merely give my personal impressions and observations when I reached Jefferson City, early in September, 1861, fresh from the pursuits of Peace and the
comforts of metropolitan life.
I arrived at the capital of Missouri some weeks before
General Fremont quitted St. Louis, when Jeff. C. Davis,
then Colonel, commanded the post. There was very little
doing there then in the military way, and very sudden
transplanting to that rude frontier town made me merely
vegetate in that most uncongenial atmosphere.
I put up at a miserable hotel, and for a fortnight I was
so lonely and wretched, that, if there had been an agreeable woman in the place, I should have fallen in love with
her from sheer desperation.
Safe enough was I, however, in that particular. There
were no women of any kind, not to speak of lovable ones,




24


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


visible in the streets, through which I sauntered listlessly
and gloomily, wondering when my brother Bohemians,
whom I had left in St. Louis, would make their appearance at the dreary capital.
I had no books with me, and could get none in the town
worth reading. I did not know how to pass the hours.
I was extremely miserable. I am not ashamed to confess
it now-I was home-sick; and, if it had not been for
pride, I should have resigned my position of War Correspondent, and hurried back to peaceful avocations and
metropolitan life, with a keener appreciation than I had
ever known before.
Having little to occupy me, I was a great observer, and
grew a trifle sentimental; perhaps, as indolent and unhappy
persons usually do.
One saw just then much of "the pomp and circumstance of glorious war."  While cavalry companies were
constantly dashing through the streets, regiments marching to the inspiring strains of martial music, officers
hurrying to and fro on prancing steeds, artillery rumbling
along, bugle-notes and drum-rolls rising from the adjacent camps, a funeral cortege passed my window.
A rude car contained a coffin, enveloped in the American colors; a squad of soldiers followed, with reversed
arms; a bugle played a mournful dirge; but no one
noticed the sad procession. All had too much of life to
care for the dead.
No one paused to think of the poor fellow in the coffin,
who sickened and died afar from home and friends, in a
military hospital.
No kind sister had spoken comfort to him; no mother's




THE FREMONT CAMPAIGN.


25


hand had smoothed his pillow; no nearer and dearer
friend-kindred only in heart-had bathed his brow or
moistened his fevered lips, or received his last word, or
sigh, or kiss.
He had not even had the consolation of dying in battle,
poor fellow! Disease had struck him down; but his
death was not therefore less glorious.
Happy soldier! his troubles were over.       He had
suffered, and was at rest. Nor care, nor pain, nor strife
could reach him evermore.
No one noticed the funeral cortege, I have said.
Yes, there was one.
A young man stood on the sidewalk, with head uncovered, his face beautiful with sympathy, and his eye
moist with pity and with love.
Men were not all careless and selfish, even there.
He who pitied and who felt, whate'er his creed or
station, must have been, in the largest sense, a Christian
and a gentleman.
One night, as I was at the railway dep6t, I observed a
young man, with an unusually intelligent and comely
face, standing sentry, in the uniform of a private.
I had rarely seen such a face in the ranks, and I
stopped a minute near him, gazing at the stars.
"A beautiful night this," he said. "External nature
is charming, but human nature is ever melancholy. How
calm and beautiful the stars are! They seeih silently to
rebuke the scene of arms on which they gaze."
My impression of his superiority to his station was
corroborated.




26


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Few private soldiers think or talk as he had done; and
at once we fell into conversation, which continued for an
hour.
I learned from him-for he at once unbosomed himself
-that he had been in love with a beautiful girl, the only
daughter of a wealthy merchant of Cincinnati, and been
affianced to her.
During three months' absence in the East, she had been
flirting desperately with another young man, and my
soldier-friend, learning, on his return, that the two were
engaged, concluded to call on her no more.
The girl wrote to him, and he answered, informing her
of what he had heard. She acknowledged the truth, but
declared her affair with his rival merely a flirtation; that
she loved the youth she addressed, and never could love
any one else.
This was not satisfactory. The enamored youth was
wretched and desperate, and, declaring all women false,
volunteered as a private, and went to Missouri.
He informed me that, but for the war, he would have
committed suicide; that he was anxious to fall in the first
charge, for life had for him no further charms.
I smiled at his infatuation, and told him that nearly all
women were fickle; that his "Louisa" was less so, probably, than most of her sex; that he should have more
philosophy than to think of dying for a silly girl, and
that he should congratulate himself on his escape from
matrimony.
He thought me jesting, at first, and then wondered how
one at my age-I was far younger than now-had become
so cynical.




THE FREMONT CAMPAIGN.


27


"Through observation and reason," I answered; and,
assuring him he would soon forget "Louisa," and fancy
he loved some other woman, bade him good-night.
He vowed I was mistaken; that I would hear of his
death in his first battle.
I never did.
He will go through the war unhurt, no doubt, and live
long enough after to laugh at his boyish passion, and
experience, perhaps, that Love, as young hearts imagine
and poets paint it, is a myth that Reason immediately
removes.
About the 1st of October we went into camp, and on
the evening of the 4th, all was activity.
The sky was dark with clouds, and the lightning in the
southern horizon, and the low-muttering thunder, blending with the neigh of horses, the rattling of sabres trailing on the ground, the "good-by" of officers, as they
rode off to join their commands, already in advance, the
hoarse cry of the artillerymen and teamsters, the musicswell of the National bands, coming in waves over the
slopes and through the trees, with the illuminated tents,
the camp-fires reddening the oaks and beeches-all gave a
strange but attractive wildness to the mezzotinto landscape before our eyes.
With all its monotony, all its painful suggestions, there
is a kind of charm in camp-life-in its freedom from ordinary restraint, its out-door existence, its easy, reckless
tone, its devil-may-care indifference, and utter disregard
of the formal barbarians the enlightened world calls
"Society."
3




28


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


"The Bohemian Brigade" was the name the little corps
of army correspondents and artists that soon assembled
at Jefferson City had received. They were only seven or
eight in number: Albert D. Richardson, of the New York
Tribune, Thomas W. Knox, of the Herald, Franc B.
Wilkie, of the Times, Richard T. Colburn, of the World,
Joseph B. McCullagh, of the Cincinnati Commercial,
Geo. W. Beaman, of the St. Louis Democrat, Henri
Lovie, artist for Frank Leslie, and Alex. A. Simplot, for
Harper's Weekly; with several other scribblers and
sketchers, who were there for a few days, but grew tired
or disgusted, and did not accompany our expedition to
the South-West.
Of course, we had considerable leisure, and amused
ourselves as best we could, in the absence of books,
which were very scarce. We smoked pipes, played
whist, discussed Poetry, Metaphysics, Art, the Opera,
Women, the World, the War and its future, and various
themes on which we then could merely speculate. Most
of our Brigade were bachelors-unless Michelet's idea of
bachelordom, as represented in "L'Amour," be correct
-and enthusiastic members of the anti-matrimonial school
of philosophy.
The unwedded bore camp-life resignedly and cheerfully; but the Benedicks seemed delighted with it,
because, as the most confirmed celibates declared, they
then had an excuse for absenting themselves from their
domestic hearths, and, to use that exquisitely satirical
phrase, the "blessings of connubial life."




CAMP-LIFE AT SYRACUSE, MO.


29


CHAPTER III.
CAMP-LIFE AT SYRACUSE, MO.
Effects of Camp-Life.-Sentimental Reflections on War.-A Modern Penthesilea.
-Woman's Military Influence Beautifully Exemplified.-The Rural Females of
Missouri.-Their Unpoetic Appearance.
IN the early days of October, 1861, Fremont's army
"began to move from Missouri's capital, for the purpose of
intercepting, if possible, and certainly of giving battle to,
Price's forces, who had from some mysterious cause been
allowed to take Lexington, and then retreat southward
without opposition or hindrance. Whose the fault was,
I will not here attempt to show. I will simply accompany Fremont to Springfield, describing such noteworthy
incidents of the camp and march as have not already
become familiar to the general reader.
When the correspondent of the Herald and myself
reached Syracuse, Mo., about the 13th or 14th of October,
I was becoming accustomed to camp-life, though I could
hardly say I liked it, nor did I believe I ever should.
It was certainly a change, and on that account I sought
it. It was very different from existence at the Fifth
Avenue or Metropolitan-about as different as a transfer
from Paris to Canton, or from the equator to the north
pole. I had not expected to find agreeableness in camplife, but rather its opposite; and therefore I was not to
"be disappointed.




30


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Residence in camp has a decided effect in removing the
romantic idea of War, which, by the by, I have ever
regarded as the most prosaic and unattractive of actualities. No spirit of poesy, no breath of sentiment enters
into War; no aesthetic principle animates it. War bristles
with facts-is terribly real, repulsively practical.
War may be beautiful on the historian's page, and
through the idealization of time and distance; but to the
spectator or the actor it is divested of its charms, and
becomes a reign of horrors and a civilized monstrosity.
And yet it has its fascinations, as drunkenness, licentiousness, murder, journalism, and the stage have theirs.
What is War, after all, but scientific assassination,
throat-cutting by rule, causing misery and vice, and pain
and death by prescribed forms? It seems high time War
had ceased to be. It is a palpable anachronism, and yet
it continues, and will until the mental millennium arrives;
until this sphere is spiritualized, and mankind have grown
philosophers.
So I thought then; but my duty was to write of, not
against; War; and, stretched on the earth beside my tent,
in the shade, on a warm, bright, beautiful day, full of the
loveliness of October, I proceeded to discharge my journalistic obligations as best I could, reserving my sentimental opinions about War for private ears.
A great deal of disharmony and trouble occurred about
that time in a Missouri cavalry regiment, which threatened then to, and eventually did, break it up completely.
About the 1st of October, the commander had placed a
number of the inferior officers under arrest at Tipton, and




CAMP-LIFE AT SYRACUSE, MO.


31


a detachment at Jefferson refused to obey his orders, and
were insubordinate because they were not armed. Much
of this trouble was reported to have arisen on account of
the interference of the wife of the Colonel with the affairs
of the regiment, in which she took the most lively interest.
I was told she threatened to horsewhip some of the
refractory officers, drew revolvers upon others, and
adopted the most masculine measures to restore order out
of chaos. Of course, a woman's interference was resented by the officers, who murmured loudly against petticoat
domination, and were extremely anxious to get rid of her.
The Madame, however, would not be gotten rid of, and
continued to play the part of Penthesilea with a degree
of boldness and perseverance which, in the days of the
Amazons, would have made her their queen.
She bore dispatches, rode through storm and tempest,
faced curses and opposition, met insult with maledictions
and menaces, and evinced an energy, a resolution, and a
courage, that rendered it a pity she was not born of the
opposite sex.
Notwithstanding her feminine gendership, she was said
by those who knew her to be most masculine in character,
and that she would be very effective in leading a cavalry
charge, or attacking a death-dealing battery. From all
accounts, she seemed unfortunate in her genesis-to have
been created physically a woman and mentally a man.
The virago finally demoralized the regiment, caused its
disbandment, and her husband's removal from the army.
She had her way; but she ruined her liege-lord, who,
the last I heard of him, had taken to superlative potations




32


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


and the exhibition of seven-legged calves and Irish giants,
still accompanied, and haunted, and tortured by the pursuing Nemesis of his life, the precious punk whom we
have honored with the fragment of a chapter.
After my arrival in the rural regions of Missouri, and
my association with the army, I often wondered how men
fond of women managed to endure; indeed, I, who had
always regarded the softer sex as works of art-and are
they not such?-from the level of cold criticism or pure
aesthetics have been compelled to commiserate, though
I could not sympathize with, those countless amorous
Alfonsos.
Fine women did not appear indigenous to the disloyal
soil of Missouri.
They were in the rough, as sculptors phrase it; lacking the refining chisel of Art and Culture to fashion them
into loveliness.
A lover of the Beautiful looked in vain for the classic
features, the spiritual expression, the soul-reflecting eye,
the charming symmetry, the voluptuous proportions, the
elegant drapery, the delightful but airy nothings that
appeal to the Imagination more than the Sense.
In their stead, he saw brown and brawny women, that
offended his taste, and chilled his gallantry; that repressed his chivalrous sentiment, and falsified his memories of the   blue eyed  "Belles"   and  hazel-haired
"Heroes" he had met, and made them seem the angels
of a dreamy Past.




A NIGHT WITH THE FLEAS.


33


CHAPTER IV.
A NIGHT WITH THE FLEAS.
Unanticipated Attack.-Inexplicable Sensations.-Prosaic Revelation.-Our Intense Suffering.-A Novel Remedy.-Extraordinary Ride through a Tempestuous Night.-Finale of the Tragi-Comedy.
UNTIL I began to follow the camp, I had never known,
save by auricular evidence, of those unpoetical insects
known as fleas; but one night in Syracuse, Mo., "our
mess" experienced the cruelty and savageness of the
diminutive foes of man, to our bodies' extremest dissatisfaction.
We were all lounging in the tent, reading, undreaming
of enemies of any kind, when we all became restless,
and the interest of our books began seriously to diminish.
There were various manual applications to various
parts of the body, multifarious shiftings of position, accompanied with emphatic expletives that sounded marvelously like oaths.
"What is the matter?" was asked by one of us of
another.   "What renders you so uneasy?"
" Heaven knows!" was the answer; "but I itch like
Satan."
"My body seems on fire," observed one.
"I wonder," said another, "if I have contracted a
loathsome disease!"
"Confound it! what ails me?"




34


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


"And me-and me-and me?" was echoed from my
companions.
One hand became insufficient to allay the irritation
of our corporeality.  Both hands became requisite to
the task, and our volumes were necessarily laid aside.
No one yet appeared aware of the cause of his suffering. If we were not all in Tophet, no one could deny
we had gone to the old Scratch.   We seemed to be
laboring under an uncontrollable nervous complaint.
We threw    our hands about wildly.   We seized our
flesh rudely, and rubbed our clothes until they nearly
ignited from friction.
One of the quartette could stand it no longer.  He
threw off his coat and vest spasmodically, and even his
under garments, and solemnly exclaimed"Flee from the wrath to come!"
The mystery was explained-the enigma solved.
The martyr's person was covered with small black
spots, that disappeared and reappeared in the same
instant.
To be practically expressive, he was covered with fleas.
The rest of us followed his example, and converted
ourselves into model artists.
We were all covered with fleas.
Fleas were everywhere. Tent, straw, books, blankets, valises, saddles, swarmed with them.
The air scintillated with their blackness.
We rushed out of the tent.
They were there in myriads.
The moonlight fell in checkered beams through their
innumerable skippings.




A NIGHT WITH THE FLEAS.


35


They made a terrible charge, as of a forlorn hope, and
drove us back.
We roared with anger and with pain, and loud curses
made the atmosphere assume a violet hue.
Three of the flea-besieged caught up canteens of
whisky and brandy, and poured the contents over their
persons and down their throats; scratching meanwhile
like a thousand cats of the Thomas persuasion, and
leaping about like dancing dervises.
The more the fleas bit, the more the victims drank;
and I, having no taste for liquor, began to envy them,
as, in their increasing intoxication, they seemed to enjoy
themselves after a sardonic fashion.
The fleas redoubled their ferocity on me, and I surrendered at discretion; and at last became resigned to their
attacks, until, a few minutes after, a storm that had been
gathering burst with fierce lightning, heavy thunder, and
torrents of rain.
A happy idea seized me.
I caught up my saddle and bridle, and placed them on
my sable steed "Festus," which stood neighing to the
tempest, a few feet from the camp.
I mounted the fleet-footed horse, and, nude as the
Apollo Belvidere, cried "go" to the restive animal;
and off we sped, to the amazement of the sentinels,
through the darkness and the storm.
Every few moments the lightning blazed around us
with a lurid sheen, as we went like the wind through
the tempestuous night.
"Festus " enjoyed it, as did his rider; and six swiftspeeding miles were passed ere I drew the rein upon the




36


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


neck of the panting beast, covered with white flecks of
foam.
I paused, and felt that the fleas had been left behind.
The pelting rain and rushing blast had been too much
for them; while the exercise had made my attireless body
glow into a pleasant warmth.
"Festus" galloped back, and soon I was in the tent,
rolled so closely in a blanket that no new attack of the
fleas could reach me.
My companions, overcome with their exertions, sufferings, and potations, had lain down; but the fleas were
still upon them, and they rolled and tossed more than
a rural tragedian in the tent scene of "Richard the
Third."
They were asleep, and yet they moaned piteously, and
scratched with demoniac violence.
In spite of my pity for the poor fellows, I could not
refrain from laughing.
With the earliest dawn I awoke, and the tent was
vacant.
Horrid thought!
Had the fleas carried them off?
I went out to search for them; and, after a diligent
quest, found them still in nature's garb, distributed
miscellaneously about the encampment.
In their physical torture they had unconsciously rolled
out of the tent.
One lay in an adjacent ditch; a second under an artillery wagon; and the third was convulsively grasping the
earth, as if he were endeavoring to dig his own grave;
believing, no doubt, that, in the tomb, neither Fortune




A NIGHT WITH THE FLEAS.


37


nor fleas could ever harm him more. The unfortunate
two were covered with crimson spots, and looked as if
recovering from the small-pox.
I pulled them, still stupid from their spiritual excess,
into the tent again, and covered them with blankets,
though they swore incoherently as I did so, evidently
"believing that some giant flea was dragging them to
perdition.
When they were fully aroused, they fell to scratching
again most violently, but knew not what had occurred
until they had recalled the events of the previous night.
They then blasphemed afresh, and unanimously consigned the entire race of fleas to the Bottomless Pit.
The fleas still tried to bite, but could find no new
places, and my companions had grown accustomed
to them.
They felt no uneasiness for the coming night; they
were aware that the new fleas would retire from a field
so completely occupied, and that the domesticated
creatures were in sufficient force to rout all invaders.
So ended that memorable Noche Triste, an exemplification of the Scriptural declaration,
"The wicked flee when no man pursueth."




38


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER V.
ROMANCE AND REALITY IN CAMP.
Conversion of a Fair Secessionist.-Disadvantage of Securing a Guard.-A Grand
Mule Concert.-Sonorous Imitations of the Opera.-High-Art Jackassical Performances.-Terror excited by the Unique Entertainment.
A CAPTAIN on one of the general's staffs in McKinstry's
division, while we were at Syracuse, sent a guard to protect the house of a Secessionist in that neighborhood, who
felt very needless alarm about his property; and learning
that the Rebel had a pretty and interesting daughter (remarkable circumstance in Missouri), paid frequent visits
to her domicil, and assumed the deepest interest in the
protection and welfare of the family.
This was, as may be supposed, the effect of the attractiveness of the daughter, whose acquaintance, of course,
the officer made on his first visit. He found the fair girl
a violent advocate of that meaningless phrase, " Southern
Rights;" but, like a sensible man, he was the more attracted to her therefor.
Here let me state what Brantome and Crebillon, and the
other French writers on women and their peculiarities,
have failed to mention.
The man of perseverance, who eloquently opposes a
woman's ruling opinion, excites her love through her
hate.
So it proved with the Captain.




ROMANCE AND REALITY IN CAMP.


39


The girl was furious at first; declared him an abolitionist and an assassin; vowed she would not marry a Yankee if her soul's salvation depended on it, and so on to
the end.
The Captain blended vehement Unionism with his passionate gallantry, and in a week the girl struck her Secession colors, and is now warmly in favor of the Government, and betrothed to the young officer.
Her father knows not the change of his daughter's
sentiments.
When he does, he will regret asking a guard for his
property. He should rather have requested a guard for
"Helen's" heart, which was hopelessly lost, even to a
Rebel lover she had in Tennessee.
What is called "winning a woman's heart" is generally
a melancholy business.
It is often less difficult to get it than to get rid of
it; and is, on the whole, a very uncomfortable and
unremunerative acquisition.
We had an amusing entertainment one night at Syracuse, and an entertainment of an original character.
I am passionately fond of music; could listen to sweet
sounds, I think, until my hair turned gray.
I have heard all the great vocalists and artistes that
have visited this country; but never, until the night in
question, had my melody-longing ears been greeted with
so unique a performance as a mule concert.
It was irresistibly droll to hear, though it can not be
described, and would have made Heraclitus laugh.
My army-correspondent companions and myself were




40


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


talking about the prospects of the campaign, while rolled
in our blankets in the tent, when our voices were drowned
by the loudest and shrillest and most space-penetrating
bray I remember to have heard.
A moment passed, and the bray was repeated in a
baser key; then another, and another, and another, each
with a different modulation.
All the mules in the camp volunteered for the operatic
rble, and the atmosphere quivered with the cacophonous
notes.
Sometimes all the mules but one would cease; and he
would execute the solo part, the rest coming in most
energetically by way of chorus. All voices were represented to the extent of a mule's capacity.
We had the soprano, mezzo and pure; the first and
second tenore; the baritone the basso profundo and
secondo; the alto and falsetto.
One mule would attempt a florid passage, and in the
midst of a roulade would break; when the others, either
in applause or ridicule, would indulge in a species of
mule music that was positively infernal.
Ten thousand tom-cats, a million of screaming babies,
a billion of rusty saws carelessly filed, with four trillions
of intoxicated Teutons, endeavoring to play "Hail Columbia" with the wrong end of a cornet, might give a faint
idea of the sound.
If we could obtain that noise in a concentrated liquid
form, and pour it out on the battle-field, it would frighten the Rebels out of their senses, and make the moon
blink with terrified amazement.
Indeed it would.




ROMANCE AND REALITY IN CAMP.


For at least four hours the mules kept up their infernal
noise.
The soldiers started from their slumbers; the sentinels
turned pale; those of the Catholic faith crossed themselves, and said an "Ave Maria;" the horses neighed
wildly; and the general impression seemed to be that
Hades had broken loose, and emptied itself into Camp
McKinstry.
I thought I had heard unpleasant noises, but I confess
I was in error.
No man can justly declare he knows what perfect
discord is, until he has listened to a mule concert of the
high art style.
I have often been told mules were vicious, but now I
am convinced they are totally depraved; that they are
possessed of a devil, and that they let him out through
their mouths on the night of the ever-to-be-remembered
jackassical entertainment.




42


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER VI.
ON   THE   MARCH.
Brutality of Officers.-Shameful Treatment of a Woman.-Change of Base.-A
Model Missouri Hotel.-Resumption of the March.-Bohemian Philosophy.Its Necessity in the Field.
THE injustice and brutality with which private soldiers
are often treated by their officers, is enough to render any
sensitive nature cynical. I have seen repeated instances
of this, and I wonder some shoulder-strapped ruffians are
not often assassinated, as they deserve to be, by the men
they so grossly abuse.
As an instance: One day, at Syracuse, a private
who had a canteen of liquor, and had been drinking,
was knocked down, beaten, and kicked in the most
brutal manner, before a dozen Captains, Colonels, and
Majors, all of whom, doubtless, professed to be gentlemen, and yet not one of them remonstrated against the
outrage, or interfered to prevent it.
Gentlemen, indeed! They were not even human.
Not a voice was raised against the cowardly and ruffianly officers, except that of a woman, whose instincts of
humanity could not be repressed.
When she spoke of the grievous wrong, she was
insulted by the "military gentlemen" who had failed to
prevent the cruelty the weak woman only had courage to
rebuke.




ni\      \\ \


THE BOHEMIANS AS  HOUSEKEEPERS.








ON THE MARCH.


43


Another instance: Two soldiers, who had been in the
hospital in St. Louis, and who, extremely anxious to join
their regiment, had left their beds before they were able,
arrived one day at Syracuse; and, still pale and wan,
but with patriotism and enthusiasm flashing from their
eyes, went up to the Colonel, and said:
"Well, Colonel, we are about again. We got up
against the Surgeon's orders; but we were afraid we'd
be left behind, and we always want to be with the brave
Seventh."
The Colonel, contemptible puppy as he was, looked
angrily at the poor, brave fellows, and said, in the most
angry tone:
"Well, G —     d-   you, go and report yourselves,
and don't trouble me."
After seeing and hearing the brutality of a portion of
the officers to their men, I do not wonder the former are
so often killed in battle.
It must be a sweet satisfaction, as well as a species of
poetic justice, to shoot the brutal tyrants, for whose loss
Humanity is better, and the World improved.
After tarrying for eight or ten days at Syracuse, waiting in vain for McKinstry's division to move, several of
the Bohemians determined to join Fremont at Warsaw,
and therefore rode through the country, infested as it was
by guerrillas, without any accident or event of interest.
The only hotel, so called, in Warsaw, was an antique
frame tenement, somewhat larger than a dry-goods box,
without its cleanliness, however, that rejoiced in the
name of the Henry House-apt enough in one respect; for
4




44


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


whoever boarded there no doubt thought he had gone to
the old Harry. It was said, moreover, to be kept in the
same recherch6, though rather profane manner that
characterized the Bonifacial administration of Mr. Henry
Achey, formerly of Cincinnati. The proprietor of the
Henry being asked if he could prepare dinner for the
"Bohemian Brigade," said he would do so with pleasure
if we would furnish him with flour, butter, beef, coffee,
sugar, potatoes, salt, and mutton; but that those small
superfluities were just then lacking in his larder.
Such was life, then, in the Secession regions of Missouri; and I apprehend it is not much better now.
We did not remain long in Warsaw. As soon as the
bridge over the Gasconade was completed, we pushed on
towards Springfield, whither it was reported Price was
moving in all haste.
We had few incidents of consequence to relate on our.march, and the "Bohemian Brigade" was barren of news
for its war correspondence, though its personal experience
and observations might furnish a rather racy chapter of
gossip by itself.
At Quincy we took possession of a Rebel deserted
mansion, I was about to say, but cabin is the word; and
from a most desolate abode we made it quite endurable in
half an hour by our own diligence.
We laid aside our metropolitan ideas, cut and gathered
wood, carried furniture from adjacent unoccupied houses,
collected corn for our horses, swept up the floor, lighted
the fire and our pipes, and made ourselves very comfortable under the circumstances.
With our books and correspondence and conversation




ON THE MARCH.


45


we contrived to pass away half a dozen hours, that would
ordinarily have been most tedious and monotonous.
At Yort's Station we appropriated the negroless slave
quarters attached to a Secession domicil to our own use,
and for a day placed ourselves in quite a cosy condition,
and had begun to feel somewhat at home, when the order
to march came, and we bade adieu to our extemporized
dwelling-place.
We adopted the true Bohemian code of doing the best
we could for our comfort, and of laughing away the
multifarious annoyances that were inseparable from camplife, even in its best and most endurable forms.
No one complained, no one grumbled; though I doubt
not more than one of us wished the war and its wagers to
the devil, and resolved in his own heart that military
existence was a Behemothian bore.
A man must become philosophical in camp, if he would
not follow the example of Cato and Brutus, or perish in a
fit of choler.
One looks for his blankets, and they have been stolen;
for his books, and they are gone; for his spurs, and they
have been borrowed; for his pipe, and it is broken; for
his boots, and one is missing; for his gauntlets, and they
are in the fire.
So it goes, day after day.
Make what effort you will, you can find nothing when
you want it most; and I very much question if St. Paul
would not have been very profane, if he had ever attached himself to the Army.




46


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER VII.
WILSON'S CREEK.
Visit to the Battle-Ground.-Its Appearance.-Cause of Sigel's Discomfiture.Scenes on the Field.-Ghastly Spectacles.-The Sleeping Camp.-A Skyey
Omen.
AFTER our arrival at Springfield, Mo., I paid a visit
to the battle-ground of Wilson's Creek, some ten miles
from that place, and found a number of persons wandering over the hard-fought field.
I can imagine few more disadvantageous localities for
a battle. The country is very rolling, sloping down to
the little stream, now made historic, and is covered
with timber and underwood, so that troops can readily
conceal themselves when the foliage is as thick as it must
have been in August.
The ridges are quite steep, and it is difficult to move
cavalry or artillery over them. The battle must have
raged over four or five miles of space, and General
Sigel began the attack far down the creek, while Lyon,
and Totten, and Sturgis, with the Iowa, Kansas, and
Missouri regiments, and the regulars, fought at the
upper end of the field.
During my sojourn in Springfield, I learned the cause
of Sigel's discomfiture in the early part of the engagement. He was ordered to go to a certain point, where
he was to meet a part of our forces; and seeing a regiment from Louisiana advancing, he supposed from their




WILSON'S CREEK.


47


gray uniforms that they were the Iowa troops; nor did
he discover his mistake until within thirty yards of
them, when the Rebels opened a tremendous fire upon his
command, throwing them into a confusion from which
they could not recover.
I saw the spot where the noble Lyon fell; where every
officer of distinction fought and died; where Totten drove
back with fearful slaughter the Rebel cavalry; where
every memorable act of that eventful day occurred.
I beheld, too, the traces of the August battle in fragments of clothing; in occasional cups and canteens; in
the rude and unmarked graves; in the skeletons of
horses and mules, and in the whitening bones of some
of the soldiers whose bodies had not been found, and
were therefore deprived of sepulture.
Out of the short grass and among the brown and
yellow and crimson leaves looked more than one grinning skull-a grim satire on the glory of War, and the
pomp of the hollow world.
One skeleton in particular impressed me.
It lay in a bent position on the back, with outstretched arms, as if begging for mercy, or seeking to
protect itself from an advancing foe..
The flesh was all gone; but the woollen socks were
still on the feet; the pantaloons upon the bones where
once the legs had been; while the eyeless sockets, the
prominent and gleaming teeth, the bony horror of the
skull, seemed to rebuke the pretensions of Life and make
a mockery of Death.
In a tree, at the foot of which the skeleton lay, the
birds were singing, and out of the clear sky a flood of




48


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


warm and genial sunshine was falling, as if Nature, in
its largeness and goodness, failed to recognize the strifes
and errors of Man, and paved with splendor even the
once sanguinary spot where her laws had been profaned.
In a few days, not far from there-then I thought-that
dreadful scene will be re-enacted; and hearts that now
beat high with Hope and Love and Ambition, and lips
that are yet moist with memories of sacred kisses, will,
ere long, be moldering in the dust, and the Autumn
winds singing their requiem in the vast cathedral of
this whirling sphere.
Looking out of the tent as I so reflected, all was
formless before my baffled eyes.
I heard no sound.
A hush as of death rested over the canvas city of the
outspread plain.
How many were dreaming there of Home and Happiness, of Honor and Success, that would never know
them beyond the domain of Dreams, or have the longings of their spirit satisfied until the angel of the Ideal
rests his flight upon the rough marble of the Actual, and
with the magic shadow of his wings makes the Real seem
the Beautiful and True.
The sky that night was dark and mysterious-deepening with blackness in the North-no star visible-no
watching moon-as if out of that quarter were coming
an element of wrath to punish the perfidious and tyrannic
South.
May the omen be verified! my heart murmured then;
and the omen has been since, my knowledge now declares.




ZAGONYI'S RIDE TO DEATH.


49


CHAPTER VIII.
ZAGONYI'S RIDE TO DEATH.
Charge of the Fremont Body-Guard.-Its Desperate Character.-The Heavy Loss.
-Scene of the Engagement.-Description of the Battle.-Progress of the
Ride.-Flight of the Foe.-After the Struggle.
THAT terrible charge, which has been aptly named
"Zagonyi's Ride to Death," was the theme of conversation at Springfield weeks after its occurrence; and, though
many censured the act as entirely unnecessary, and therefore unmilitary-a needless sacrifice of life, in a wordall agreed in pronouncing it one of the most daring and
brilliant achievements in the annals of modern warfare.
While, from a mere military point of view, every one
must.condemn the action; while it shows no more generalship than would an order for a squad of raw troops to
charge in the face of a hundred death-belching batteries,
no one can fail to admire the perfect dare-devilism and
magnificent recklessness with which one hundred and fifty
young men, entirely inexperienced in war, swept like a
whirlwind, through a most murderous fire from a double
column they could not reach with their sabers, upon fifteen hundred determined troops, and, in spite of preparation and position, put them to a most inglorious flight.
All things taken into consideration, I doubt if that
martial feat has ever been surpassed on the field. The
Fremont Body-Guard were all young and uninitiated,




50


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


scarcely one of them having been before under-fire;
without any food worthy of mention, or rest, for fortyeight hours, or a cavalry drill on horseback, and having
ridden over seventy-eight miles previous to the engagement; and yet, under all these overwhelming disadvantages, they did not hesitate to attack, with all the odds
against them, a force of fresh troops nearly fourteen times
greater than their own.
Large as their loss was-ascertained to be seventeen
killed, twenty-eight wounded (two mortally), and ten
missing, with sixty horses killed, and one hundred and
forty more or less wounded-it seems incredible that
their loss was not much greater; that every other man
did not perish on the field.
I have visited the scene of the terrific engagement several times, and the more I learned of the charge, the more
I wondered it could have been successful. Surely it was
horribly grand, sanguinarily glorious.
Even now I see the charge as plainly as if it were
passing before my eyes. Ghastly, but glorious picture!
My heart would have sunk if it had not swelled; my
blood would have curdled if it had not tingled, as the
wild panorama flashed before my mental vision!
On that warm, bright, beautiful, autumnal afternoon,
the breezes voluptuously dallying with the golden and
crimson leaves of the drowsy trees, and the birds singing
a glad hymn to lovely though pensive October, a gallant
troop of cavalry go prancing down the brown and dusty
road, their voices sounding merrily, and their sabers
clattering harmoniously at their sides. On they go, and
suddenly, out of a thick wood, where the birds are still




ZAGONYI'S RIDE TO DEATH.


51


singirg, and Nature seems performing her silent myteries
in the ancient groves, five hundred muskets rain their
leaden messengers upon the little band.
The horses plunge and neigh, and four brave riders
reel upon their saddles and fall without a groan heavily
to the ground.
No enemy is visible through the trees; but a glance
to the east, over the little hill, shows fifteen hundred
foemen, with deadly weapons in their hands and a deadly
glitter in their eye, ranged on each side of the narrow
road through which they must pass.
Inevitable death seems to stare them in the face.
The floating clouds above their heads seem like their
descending shrouds.
The bright sun seems shining the last time for them.
All their past rushes in a moment through their mind.
Forsaken scenes of home, of friends, of those beloved,
rise in painful contrast to their swimming view.
But with the seconds speed recollection and regret.
The dread present stands there, inexorable, and demands
to be answered.
The commander's voice rings out like a clarion: "Follow me, my brave boys!" "Fremont and the Union!"
"Victory or death!"
No hesitation now; no pause.
Determination flashes from every eye. The Will has
triumphed, and Nature has succumbed.
The cry is caught up, and along the entire line echoes
and re-echoes: "Fremont and the Union! Victory or
death!"
The horses plunge forward as the rowels are buried in




52


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


their sides, and, yelling like sayages, the cavalry rush
down the road through a continuous and deadly fire.
Here a rider tumbles; there a noble steed falls. On
this side, a Guard clasps his hand to his breast, as a ball
strikes home. On the other, a stream of blood starts
from the temple of a youthful warrior; his limbs relax;
his saber falls from his nerveless hand; his eye glazes;
his head sinks upon his horse's neck; he is dead upon
his bounding steed.
The dust and smoke arise in clouds, and commingle,
and the din of battle swells; and the noise of musketry
shatters the surrounding silence of the charming afternoon. Still goes on the ride of the horsemen-the ride
to death. Their carbines and pistols are in their hands,
and they return the galling fire, and many a Rebel dies
ere he can ask Heaven's pardon for his sins. While an
absent mother or sister is praying for his safety, there
he lies dead, with a bullet through his heart.
Now the fearless cavalry have ridden through the fire
of death, and paused before one of the fences separating
them from their malignant foes.
The fence must be let down, and four brave fellows are
soon dismounted, and, under a heavy fire, perform their
task as coolly as if they were executing an every-day
labor. At this point four or five of the Guard are shot
down, and in a moment all who are unhurt are dashing
through the opening into the adjacent field, where the
Rebels are formed in a hollow square.
The Body Guard form in a double column, and spread
out, fan-like, to the north and south, and with tremendous
cries of "Hurrah for Cincinnati!" "Old Kentucky for



ZAGONYI'S RIDE TO DEATH.


53


ever!" " Remember the Queen City, boys! do nothing
she will be ashamed of!" they charge upon the Rebels
with a terrible energy.
The foe endeavors to sustain the shock, and for a minute
stands his ground; but the Body Guard, Major Zagonyi
at their head, fight like devils; and cutting with their
sabers to the right and left, and riding over the enemy,
and trampling him under their horses' feet, the Secessionists give way, and, breaking their square, retire to a
central position.
Here the Guards are again upon them, and their energy
and ferocity seem to increase as the fight continues, and
the Rebels, unable to resist their furious attack, break
into small bodies, and run in every direction, seeking
shelter in the bushes and behind the trees; firing, as
rapidly as they can load, upon their pursuers.
The Rebels are soon dislodged from their place of
shelter, and those on horseback put a safe distance
between themselves and harm, and seek the adjacent
country through the woods.
The infantry fly to the corn-fields and down the road
leading to Springfield, and are closely followed by the
victorious Guards, who, with pistol, carbine, and saber,
continue the work of destruction until their blades reek
with blood, and their tired arms hang heavy at their sides.
Up and down the streets of the town fly the affrighted
Rebels, still retaining their weapons.
Women and children stand pale with fear, gazing, with
the strange fascination that courage excites, through
closed windows at the horrid spectacle.
Here a youth lies with his skull cloven to his cheek;




54


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


there the life of an aged man ebbs away through a purple
wound.
Before that peaceful dwelling an expiring Rebel glares
with powerless hatred upon an unhorsed Guard whose
eyes are swimming in death.
In the public square, two foes are breathing their last
in each other's arms-the embrace of those who grapple
at one another's throats while falling into the grave.
At the entrance of the Court-house, a son lies dead
upon the corpse of a father he had sought to save in
vain; and in the bend of yonder lane two brothers of the
Guard are striving to gasp out last words to each other,
before this World fades forever from their glassy eyes.
After a dreadful hour, that must have seemed a minute
to some, to others an age-the battle, the rout, the slaughter is over.
The sinking sun looked with a crimson glow upon the
gory battle-field, upon the piles of lifeless chargers, upon
the wounded, the dying, and the dead-Unionists and
Rebels-who had sealed their devotion with their blood.
A melancholy offering was that upon the altar of
patriotism.  Human victims lay upon the disputed
ground; loud, agonizing groans and cries of pity, and
even bitter curses, went up together to the peaceful
heaven, bending in blue beauty over all-upon the
Northman and the Southron alike, upon the friend of
the Union and its foe.
And, long after the voiceless midnight, the moon
glided up the clear sky, like a celestial nun, telling her
rosary of stars, and praying silently for the gallant spirits
that had so bravely fought, so bravely died.




THE RETROGRADE MOVEMENT.


55


CHAPTER IX.
THE RETROGRADE MOVEMENT.
The Return to Rolla.-A Ghastly Jest.-A Brace of Fair Bohemians.-The
Discrediting Effect of Camp Attire.-A Night in a Barn.-Potency of an
Army Pass.
EVERY one knows how       Fremont was removed at
Springfield, and that Hunter, after succeeding him,
made a grand retrograde movement to Rolla. The excitement produced by that event I do not care to particularize, nor to express at this late day any opinion of
the justice or injustice of the measure.
Fremont is out of the service; and let the dissensions
to which his enthusiastic friends and his bitter enemies
gave rise die with the causes that made them.
At that time hardly any of the War-Correspondents
had witnessed a battle worthy of the name; aAd when
they turned their back upon Springfield, where they had
fully expected to chronicle a decisive engagement, and
share in some of its hazards, they were vexed, chagrined,
and disappointed, as was the whole Army —I have never
seen a better one of its size-on its countermarch to
Rolla.
The Correspondent of the St. Louis Democrat-for
three years past an officer in the Navy-and myself
brought up the rear, and journeyed leisurely with General Wyman's brigade over the Ozark Mountains back
toward St. Louis.




56


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


On our retrograde movement in Laclede County, on the
night of November 11th, a very sudden death occurred
at Camp Plummer, proving that the skelet6n-king oft
comes when least expected-passing from     the blazing
battery to strike his victim in the midst of security and
peace.
A young man, Henry Holt, bugler of Major Power's
cavalry, attached to the Thirteenth Regiment, was complaining of feeling rather ill, when the Quartermaster,
Captain Henderson, who had a passion for aught like
fun, proposed to bury the musician; and, in the spirit of
merriment, seized a spade, and, after measuring the complainer, dug a grave of his exact proportions.
The bugler laughed, as did his companions, at the
humor of the officer, and soon after went away to discharge some duty with which he had been intrusted.
About nine o'clock the same evening, Holt was sitting, with seven or eight of his company, about a camp
fire, within a few feet of the grave, when.some one
pointed to it and remarked, in a tone of badinage,
" Come, Harry, get ready for your funeral!"
The youth looked over his shoulder at the gloomy
cavity in the earth, put his hand to his head, and fell
from his stool.
His companions laughed at the little piece of Acting, as
they supposed it, and were surprised that he did not
rise from the earth.
They went up to him, asking, "Are you asleep,
Harry?"
He made no answer, and yet his eyes were open.
They shook him in vain.




THE RETROGRADE MOVEMENT.


His friends grew alarmed. One placed his hand upon
Harry's heart. It was still: he was dead!
He had perished of a stroke of apoplexy, and was
"buried at midnight, in the grave made for him in jest
by a merry-hearted friend.
And so the droll jest was drowned in the hollow
sound of the earth falling upon a rude coffin, and solemnly waking the stillness of the night-morn amid the
solitude of a broad prairie of the southwest.
During the last two or three days of our march, its
monotony was relieved by the companionship of two
young and cultivated women who were on their way
to St. Louis, under the protection of the army. With
a positive passion for Beauty, Nature, Poetry, and
Romance, their conversation beguiled the weary hours,
and often their light-hearted laugh made the desolate
mountain silences echo with gladness.
Quite Bohemianish, and certainly fond of adventure,
were those fair girls, who frequently regretted they were
not men, that they might be emancipated from     the
narrowness Society imposed upon them.
My journalistic companion and myself explained to
them the character of the Bohemian Brigade, and with
their full permission elected them honorary members
of that unique society.
The girls and we duo of Bohemians had a good deal
of amusement in riding, walking, fording creeks and
rivers, and exploding, to our satisfaction, the multifarious shams of modern society and present-day custom.
Our journeying was romantic, and certainly agreeable,




58


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


after our long absence from feminine society. We parted
with the fair girls, not, I believe, without mutual rbgret,
and never probably to see them more.
They were Bohemians then; but Society and Oustom
have perhaps ere this made them conform.
They are still young and romantic; but a few years
will doubtless find them deteriorated into domestic
drudges, shut out forever by household necessities
from the land of Bohemia and the realm of the Ideal.
Arriving near Rolla on Saturday, the correspondent
of the Democrat and myself concluded to go to town and
stop at a hotel, hoping to become accustomed ere long
to civilized life once more.
We did so in our campaign costume; and before the
landlord learned who we were, he evinced great distrust
of our honesty, and asked us, in a very polite manner,
just as we were about to take a walk after dinner, if it
would be convenient for us to pay for our meal.
We laughed, and told him our profession, and that
our baggage was in his house-a fact of which he was
unconscious-when he apologized, and said he thought
we might have forgotten so small an amount of indebtedness, as we doubtless had many more important things
to remember.
This little incident proves the truth of Herr Teufelsdroch's opinion respecting the.power of clothes.
Had we been attired as we would have been in the
city, he would have danced attendance on us all day;
but, fresh from camp, he imagined us suspicious characters, designing to swindle him out of a mere trifle.




THE RETROGRADE MOVEMENT.


59


That is a fine sentiment Shakspeare put in the mouth
of old Polonius:
"It is the mind that makes the body rich;
And as the sun breaks through the darkest cloud,
So honor peereth in the meanest habit."
But I fear the sentiment is not at all true with the
great mass of the people, who believe there is an inseparable association between dishonesty and damaged
attire.
When night came we found every particle of hotel space
in the miserable village of Rolla occupied; and as a last
resource we repaired to the barn, never before having
had the pleasure of sleeping in such a place; expecting,
however, we might be a little hoarse in the morning.
We carried our blankets to the barn, where we found
several other bed-despairing individuals, and were soon
ensconced in a self-made couch composed of woolen
and hay.
As there was a heavy storm during the night, the rain
on the roof and the wind sighing through the loose
weather-boarding conjured up poetic pictures to the
imagination, and transformed the desolate old barn into
an Aladdin's palace of fancy.
About daylight, one of the sleepers discovered he
had fallen into a hay-rack; another was awakened by
a hostler endeavoring to put a halter around his neck;
and a third by the thrusting of a pitch-fork within an
inch of lis head, which had been mistaken for a part
of a bundle of oats.
We paid our bill to the rural Boniface, including fifty
cents for lodging in the barn-that was cheap, consider5




60


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


ing that more was charged for reposing in the shadow
of the town-pump-and we are soon on the eve of departure for St. Louis by the railway, which appears odd
enough after long weeks of nothing but equine journeys.
An incident occurred the evening after our arrival in
St. Louis, at one of the dancing halls in the city, of rather
an amusing nature.
Two of the Bohemian Brigade were admiring the dancing of a pretty girl on the stage, when one of them determined to go behind the scenes and pour his tale of
"burning passion into what he conceived would necessarily be her all-attentive ear.
He accordingly presented himself at the stage-door,
and was very naturally refused admission; whereupon
he drew out an army pass, and said that gave him the
privilege of going anywhere, at any time, in the territory
of the United States, and that whoever disobeyed the
order would be arrested at once.
This very bold statement was accompanied by such
a magnificent manner of authority and importance that
the guardian of the portal, without reading the pass,
allowed the holder to enter, and in a few minutes the
adroit Bohemian was seeking to convince the Terpischorean divinty that he had never believed in love until
he had seen her an hour before, and that for the future
the earth would be desolate unless revivified by her
smile.




SECESSION IN MISSOURI.


61


CHAPTER X.
SECESSION IN MISSOURI.
The Feminine Secessionists of St. Louis.-Their Parrot-like Raving.-Their Resemblance to Barnaby Rudge's Raven.-Harmlessness of Petticoated Traitors.
-Sale of Rebel Property.-Curious Scene.-A Mysterious Article.
THE principal element of Secession in St. Louis, early
in the War, was, and probably is still, in the women, who,
having the privilege of saying what they pleased, were
often loud in their denunciations of the Government, and
profuse in their expressions of sympathy with the South.
They talked an infinite deal of Rebel fustian; but it
meant nothing, and did no harm.
There, as in the other Slave State cities, Secession was
the mode, and that, combined with what was then the
newness of the doctrine, was sufficient to make almost
any woman its exponent.
Many silly girls in St. Louis thought they would not
be fashionable unless they talked treason; and they did
it systematically, just as they wore a certain kind of
mantle or a peculiar style of bonnet.
Brainless women spoke of the outrages of the North
and of the wrongs of the South, without having any more
idea of the meaning of the words than a parrot that has
caught the sound has of a metaphysical phrase of Fichte
or Hegel, and screams it out to every passer-by.
The political conversation of many of the feminine




62


FOUR YEARS IN SECES~IA.


Secessionists in that town reminded one of the raven,
Grip, in "Barnaby Rudge," on the night when that
sagacious bird endeavored to recollect the valuable admonition to a popular though mysterious Polly, respecting the preparation of the evening meal.
Grip could recollect "Polly put the ket-," but
there his memory failed, and drowsiness overcame him.
At last he caught the remainder of the quotation, and
uttered:
"Polly put the kettle on,
And we'll all take tea.
I'm a devil! I'm a devil! I'm a devil!
Fire, fire, fire! Never say die!
I'm a kettle on! I'm a fire!
Never say kettle on, we'll all take Polly.
I'm a fire-kettle-on devil-I'm a
and he fell asleep again.
All that would have been necessary to complete the
comparison between the women and Grip would have
been for him to declare himself a Secessionist, for certainly
his speech was no more mixed and irrelevant than the
arguments of the petticoated traitors.
All they could tell you was that they were Secessionists; but what that meant, or why they were so, or what
they wanted, or how they were injured, was beyond
their power of representation.
Secession women are amusing, at any rate, and, so long
as they confine themselves to talking, do no harm, unless
to some false reputation they may have acquired for
understanding.
Women, at best, are what men make of them. They
shine by a borrowed light, and see through the eyes of
their last lover.




SECESSION IN MISSOURI.


63


Let me know a woman' s nearest friend, and I will tell
you what are her opinions and her tastes.
I have been not a little entertained at the conversation
I have had with some of the pretty Rebels in the South,
who, with their little doll faces, express the most sanguinary sentiments, and hope the "Yankees" will all be killed,
in the blandest of tones, and with the sweetest of smiles.
Their efforts to perform the r6le of desperate traitors
appear like the endeavor of a rose-bud to convert itself
into a Paixhan gun or a sub-marine battery.
But enough of those dear little know-nothings, all of
whom would not mar the peace of the most sentimental
school-boy that ever moistened with his tears the pages
of the "Sorrows of Werther."
The sale in St. Louis, during February, 1862, of the
goods seized from assessed Rebels, by a Fourth street
auctioneer, attracted a very dense crowd.
So great was the curiosity excited, that the thoroughfare before the building was blocked, the street-cars
compelled to stop, and the serried mass on the track
dispersed, before the conveyance could advance.
Several of the war correspondents then sojourning in
that city, waiting for coming events, witnessed the sale of
the confiscated pianos, tables, buggies, mirrors, centertables, vases, rugs, lamps, chess-boards, and other articles of household furniture and ornament, and were
amused at the grotesque appearance of the pressing,
jostling, excited, anxious crew of bidders and lookers on.
Old and young women, peddlers and pickpockets, Jews
and journalists, bar-keepers and book-worms, stevedores




64


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


and strumpets, printers and pugilists, authors and actors,
loafers and litt6rateurs, were there in profusion and confusion.
Here was a venerable, desiccated proprietress of a
Broadway boarding-house-who, for a lover of paleontology, would have been an interesting study-in close
contact with a youthful and pretty woman, whose elegance of toilette was surpassed only by her vapidity.
Here was a stalwart shoulder-hitter peeping over the
glossy hat of an elaborately done-up dandy, who had
braved the inclement weather to purchase his "darling
Julia's pianah-stool," if it cost him, as he heroically
expressed it, the last drop of his blood.
Near the awning-post leaned a begrimed artisan upon
the shoulder of a flashily-attired gambler; and, a few feet
off, a juvenile vender of matches was pushing his basket
into the parabolic apron of a feminine figure, in a manner
that would have delighted a disciple of Malthus.
Some article of furniture, said by the auctioneer to
have been the property of the beautiful Miss -, but
which I could not see, created a sensation, and was
immediately inclosed by a living wall of young men, as
if they wished to act as a body-guard, fearful that some
other and more enterprising citizen would carry off the
mysterious what-not.
The bidding was very animated, and it appeared a
point of honor and a piece of gallantry to obtain it at any
price.
"Five-ten-fifteen-twenty dollars," said the auctioneer; "will you see this wonder of art, this glorious
instrument, sacrificed at such a rate?




SECESSION IN MISSOURI.


65


"No man of feeling but would give twice the sum. Be
generous, gentlemen; this is a rare opportunity.
"The owner of this is not poor, but she is beautiful.
Bid now, like men who are true to themselves, but truer
to the sex."
Thirty, forty dollars was offered, and finally fifty was
named, and the apocryphal article sold.
I here made another desperate but unsuccessful effort
to obtain a glimpse of the furniture, and still marveling
what it could have been, even after I had heard a fellow
say: "It was not worth one-tenth so much, but I suppose it was valuable from association."
The sale of seized property was, I learned, quite profitable, and certainly attracted a large crowd, who enjoyed
the auction exceedingly, and carried off the various
articles as if they had been trophies of war, instead of the
most harmless instruments of peace.




66


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER XI.
BATTLE OF DONELSON.
March from Fort Henry to the Field.-Troubles of the Correspondents.-Difficulty
of Subsistence.-Courage of our Soldiers.-Examples of Sacrifice and Heroism.
-Gallant Charge.-Amateur Sharpshooting.-Mortification of the Enemy after
the Surrender.-Desperation of the Rebels.-Repudiation of the Five to One
Boast.-Ghastly Wounds.-Touching Incidents.
THE army correspondents had no power, through love
or largess, to obtain horses on their February campaign
in Tennessee, the second year of the War.
The talisman of the Press had lost its equine potency,
and most of the war-pursuing Bohemians were compelled
to go to the field from Fort Henry over a rough and miry
road in a pedestrianizing capacity.
Philosophers complain of nothing; but, to a vivid
imagination, the prospect of the approaching fight was
more unique than fascinating.
I fancied the Bohemians wandering over the field kneedeep in mud, liable, without uniforms or any badge of
distinction, to be mistaken by each side for foes, and, in
the event of a defeat, to be ridden down and shot at,
under suspicion of being Rebels, in the most miscellaneous and magnificent manner.
So I fancied; and my fancies were more than half
realized.
No one cares for a Bohemian, I hope, and no true
Bohemian cares who cares for him.
If, to speak typographically, he is set up leaded with a




/
<;-   4&
~942 I,,


7


r


/              I
/ - —
'II

14


0
m
fri
Cc)
In
'Ii
z


k L x c7~   A  I~.1ii/




/ p


/








BATTLE OF DONELSON.


67


shooting-stick, or his form is knocked into everlasting pi
by a shell, no column-rule will be turned for him. There
"will be merely one journalist less in the World, and one
more phase of boredom exhausted.
For any ill-fated quill-driver who may breakfast with
Proserpine one of these dull mornings, I have composed
an epitaph, which nothing but regard for my readers, and
the memory of the deceased that is to be, prevents me
from inserting here.
Well I remember how we of the Press wandered about
that hard-fought field, half-starved and half-frozen, having left our blankets and india-rubbers behind, and
brought no rations with us; supposing, as did every one
in the army, that the capture of Donelson would be
a simple before-breakfast recreation.
Few of us, as I have said, had horses; and, being
without tents, provisions, or sufficient clothing — particularly after the sudden change, on the day of our arrival,
from  Spring-life softness and warmth to raw, biting,
penetrating wind and storm, followed by sleet, snow,
and severe wintry weather-we suffered greatly, but,
fortunately for us, not long.
At Fort Henry an explosion of a box of ammunition
had dashed a piece of cartridge-paper into one of my
optics, which soon inflamed the other through sympathy,
and made me nearly blind.
For three cays I groped over the frozen and snowy
ground, and, with my companion of the New York World,
followed, from time to time, army wagons, to pick up
pieces of hard bread which were jolted out semi-occasionally over the rough roads.




68


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


I thought that difficult to endure then; but, since my
long apprenticeship in Rebel prisons, I regard by comparison all previous experience of my life, however
unpleasant and painful, as a path of roses and a stream
of joy.
The battle of Donelson, or siege of Fort Donelson, as it
is often called, was continued by land and water for four
days, February 12th, 13th, 14th, and 15th; though, from
the position of the Rebel works on the river, our gunboats were enabled to do little toward the obtainment of
the victory.
The country about Donelson was very uneven, being
surrounded by high hills, and covered in many places
with trees and undergrowth, so that nothing could be
seen of the main work from any point of land that our
men were able to reach.
Although I was wandering over the field all four days,
I did not see the fort proper myself, nor meet a single
person who had seen it, though the outworks were visible from various places, and the Rebels working the
guns.
On Saturday, the 15th inst., our troops, though most of
them had never been under fire, fought like veterans,
under the most disadvantageous circumstances, having
been without sleep for two or three nights, and without
food for twenty-two hours.
All the officers acted coolly and gallantly, and encouraged the soldiers by word and example.
A lieutenant seized the colors of one of the regiments,
after the ensign had been shot down, and bore them for a
quarter of an hour in the thickest of the fight.




BATTLE OF DONELSON.


69


A captain of one of the companies received two balls
through his hat and three through his coat without being
conscious of his narrow escapes until after the battle.
Three or four of the officers had the hair of their head
and their faces grazed by musket-balls; and, in two instances, the skin was removed from the ear by the leaden
messengers of the Rebels.
An orderly sergeant, seeing a Rebel pointing a rifle at
the captain of his company, threw himself before his
beloved officer, received the bullet through his breast,
and fell dead in the arms of the man he had saved.
The sergeant, I learned, had been reared and very generously treated by the father of the captain, and had
declared, when he first enlisted, that he would be happy
to die to save the life of his benefactor's son.
Most nobly and gloriously did he redeem his promise.
The severest and the decisive contest was on the left at
the close of Saturday. General C. F. Smith, with his
division, composed of Indiana, Iowa, and Illinois regiments, marched up to the breastworks, and engaged the
enemy in the most spirited manner.
The Iowa Second was the first regiment that scaled the
breastworks, performing the hazardous and brilliant
movement in masterly style, after the manner of the
veterans who immortalized themselves in the wars of
Napoleon.
They never hesitated, they never faltered, but with
firm step and flashing eye, passed, without firing a gun,
into the Rebel works.
In a few seconds other regiments followed, and a terrible strife ensued between the contending parties. The




FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Secessionists seemed resolved to drive the Unionists back,
and the latter equally determined not to surrender the
advantage they had obtained.
For at least two hours the rattling of musketry was
unceasingly heard, and the armed masses surged to and
fro. Fortune appeared to favor now one side, and now
another.
Ever and anon, a loud cheer went up for the Union,
and that was caught up at a distance and echoed by our
soldiers, and joyously re-echoed by the surrounding
hills.
Many a brave warrior heard that glorious shout as his
senses reeled in death, and his spirit went forth embalmed
with the assurance that he had not fallen in vain.
A large Rebel gun every few seconds would pour its
iron hail against our struggling heroes; but generally, as
the sequel proved, the firing was too high. Of that fact
we were not aware at the time, and the booming gun
caused much uneasiness and alarm.
The correspondent of the St. Louis Republican and
myself were on the summit of a hill near the hostile
breastworks, indulging in a little amateur belligerency
with Birg!e's sharpshooters, who had very kindly loaned
us two of their Enfields. They were trying in vain to
pick off the Rebel gunner, whom we could not see,
though we could determine, by the puff of the smoke from
the vent, about where he stood.
" Are you a good shot?" inquired one of Birge's men
of me. " If you are, here is as good a rifle as ever killed
a Rebel; and if you'll pepper that fellow over there at
that gun, I'll give you any thing I've got."




BATTLE OF DONELSON.


I made no promises, for I have very little skill as a
marksman, but quietly accepted the Enfield, with the air
of Leather Stocking; and, waiting until the gun went off
again, I fired at the very moment the blue smoke puffed
above the earthworks.
For some reason or other, the gun was not fired for
nearly five minutes.
The sharpshooter looked at me with wonder and admiration, and saying, "I think you fixed him that time,"
received back the rifle I handed him as if there would be
no more use for it in the future.
"I shouldn't be surprised," I remarked to my companion, and walked dignifiedly away while my laurels
were green.
That sharpshooter will.believe to his last hour I killed
that Rebel gunner.
I hope as he believed.
Soon after that incident, a loud report was heard, and
the woods reverberated with a Union cry of joy, for the
soldiers recognized it as the thunder of a Yankee gun,
gotten into position at last, and believed it would do
much to decide the battle.
Again and again that gun sounded, and the national
banner waved, and the Rebels were driven from their
redoubt.
The Union regiments received orders to hold their
position during the night, and renew the strife in the
morning.
The morning came, but there was no need of further
contest; for in the morning the enemy surrendered, and
Donelson was ours.




72


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Our foes sought to save their pride and conceal their
mortification by declaring they were betrayed by Pillow
and Floyd; that they had no idea of surrendering, and
would not have surrendered until reduced to the last
extremity, if the question had been left to them.
That was all bosh, however.
No such course would have been adopted, if the enemy
had believed himself capable of holding out longer, or
if braggadocio and bluster could have been made to
answer for stout hearts and brave deeds.
Every one asked, What made nearly twenty thousand
able-bodied soldiers surrender, with plenty of provisions
and ammunition, intrenched as they were behind breastworks that made them equal to any odds?
How could they, after all their insolence, arrogance,
and assumption of superiority, yield to a force very little
more than their own, and to men whose courage they
questioned, and  whose   manliness they   affected  to
despise?
The sole answer was, and is, that boastfulness is rarely
the parent of valor, and insolence seldom the companion
of magnanimity.
In conversation with one of the Rebel Captains, after
the surrender, he asked me how our boats had contrived
to escape all the torpedoes placed in the Tennessee and
Cumberland Rivers, and which, he had thought, would
blow our fleet to atoms.
When told the torpedoes were usually harmless, and
that some of them had been taken up and exhibited as
specimens of ineffectual malignity, he declared it was very
hard to kill a Yankee; that, if you baited a hook with




BATTLE OF DONELSON.


the Devil, a Yankee would steal the hook without the
Devil's knowing it. /
Several of the Rebels showed, during the engagement,
a recklessness of life that proved their desperation.
One of them mounted the breastworks in full view of
our forces, and defied the "d —d Yankees."       But
hardly had the defiance passed his lips before he fell
pierced by a score of bullets.
Another remained outside of the rifle-pits after all his
companions had retreated behind them, and fought with
his sword against half a dozen of the Unionists who had
surrounded him, and were anxious to take him prisoner.
They asked him several times to surrender; but he
declared he would rather die: and die he did, on the
point of a Union bayonet; but not before he had slain
one, and wounded three of his adversaries.
One of the prisoners afterward gave me the history of
that desperate Secessionist.
He had inherited a large fortune; married a wife in
Tennessee; squandered his means in riotous living and
dissipation; separated from his spouse; become reckless;
joined the army, and declared his intention to live no
longer than the first battle.
He redeemed his word, and closed his wild career a
needless martyr to an unholy cause.
A third Secessionist, a private in a Mississippi company, left his companions in arms, and, with a horrid
imprecation, rushed into the midst of one of our regiments, aiming a blow with his musket at an Indiana
Captain, who shot him   dead with his revolver before
the desperado could inflict any injury.




74


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Three members of the 8th Illinois rushed over the riflepits after the enemy had retreated into them, and perished
fighting against a thousand foes.
On Saturday, a young soldier, James Hartley, who had
lost a brother the previous day, swore he would be
revenged; and in one of the sorties by the Rebels, he
attacked six of them single-handed, killed three, and
then lost his own life.
Corporal Mooney, an Irishman, seeing that the staff of
one of the regimental flags was shot away, picked up the
Stars and Stripes, and, wrapping them round his body,
rushed over the parapet, and crying, "Come on, my brave
boys!" was blown to pieces by a shell.
A Lieutenant-Colonel in an Iowa regiment, during the
fierce contest of Saturday afternoon, had nine bullets put
through his coat, and yet sustained no injury.
Peter Morton, of the 13th Illinois, had the case of his
watch, which he wore in his upper vest pocket, immediately over his breast, torn away by a canister-shot, and
the chronometer still continued to keep time.
The life of Reuben Davis, of the 5th Kentucky, was
saved by a silver half dollar in his waistcoat pocket.
He had borrowed that amount from a companion some
days before, and offered to return it before going into
the engagement; but his companion told him to keep the
coin, as he might stand in need of it before night.
He had the greatest need of it. A rifle-ball struck the
coin in the centre, and destroyed the figure of Liberty on
its face, but harmed not the Kentuckian.
Within the Fort a small Secession flag was planted;
and twice the pole supporting it was shot away.




BATTLE OF DONELSON.


Some one picked it up, saying, "That is a bad omen.
If it is brought down again, we will be defeated."
Hardly had he spoken before a shell burst above his
head, and a fragment shivered the staff, and crashed
through the speaker's skull.
On Monday, the day after the surrender, I talked a
great deal with the Rebel officers; asking some from
South Carolina and Mississippi their opinion about the
capacity of a Southerner to whip five Northerners.
" It's all d- d nonsense," was the reply. "Whoever
says so is a d- d fool."
"Your newspapers have so stated, time and again," I
remarked.
"Probably they have.    If the editors think so, let
them try it.  It is enough for us soldiers to whip one
Yankee at a time. When we get done with him, we
think we've done about all that we desire."
Many of the enemy found upon the battle-field, after
we had obtained possession of a part of the intrenchments on Saturday afternoon, were horribly wounded,
mostly by our Minie rifles and Enfield muskets, and
usually in the face or on the head.
Poor fellows lay upon the ground with their eyes and
noses carried away; their brains oozing from their crania;
their mouths shot into horrible disfiguration; making a
hideous spectacle that must have haunted those who saw
it for many days.
I saw an old gray-haired man, mortally wounded,
endeavoring to stop, with a strip of his coat, the life-tide
flowing from the bosom of his son, a youth of twenty
years.
6




76


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


The boy told his father it was useless; that he could
not live; and while the devoted parent was still striving
feebly to save him who was perhaps his first-born, a
shudder passed over the frame of the would-be preserver.
His head fell upon the bosom of the youth, and his
gray hairs were bathed in death with the expiring blood
of his misguided son.
I saw the twain half an hour after; and youth and age
were locked lifeless in each other's arms.
A dark-haired young man, of apparently twenty-two
or three years, I found leaning against a tree, his breast
pierced by a bayonet. He said he lived in Alabama;
that he had joined the Rebels in opposition to his
parents' wishes; that his mother, when she had learned
that he would go into the army, had given him her
blessing, a Bible, and a lock of her hair.
The Bible lay half opened on the ground, and the
hair, a dark lock, tinged with gray, that had been between the leaves, was in his hand.
In the lock of hair, even more than in the Volume,
Religion was revealed to the dying young man. I saw
him lift the tress again and again to his lips, as his eyes
looked dimly across the misty sea that bounds the shores
of Life and Death, as if he saw his mother reaching out
to him with the arms that had nursed him in his infancy:
to die, alas! fighting against his country, and the counsels of her whose memory lived latest in his departing
soul.
A Secession soldier of the 10th (Irish) Tennessee regiment, I believe, was lying just inside of the fortifications.




BATTLE OF DONELSON.                 7
His glazing eyes gave assurance that life wras embraced in
minutes. He held a rosary and crucifix in his hand, and
his moving lips were doubtless offering a prayer. He
had evidently endeavored to kneel, but was too weak.
One of our soldiers saw and hurried to him, to assist
him in his attitude of prayer; and while engaged in that
kind office, a shot from a Rebel cannon struck and killed
them both.




78


FOUR YEARS IN SEOESSIA.


CHAPTER XII
AFTER     THE    BATTLE.
Extracts from my Note-Book.-Sensations of a Reasoning Man Under Fire.-A
Novel in Brief.-A Faithless Woman and a Sacrificed Lover.-A Juvenile
Hero.-Difficulty of Dying on the Field.-Ultra-professional Correspondents.
-Ludicrous Incidents of their Journalistic Devotion.
IN two instances, at Donelson, I noticed wounded foes
lying near, who were offering water to each other from
their canteens. So humane and gentle were our living to
the wounded and dying enemy, that one would have supposed they were the nearest and closest friends.
One fierce Rebel, a Mississippian, refused all aid,
though badly wounded, and endeavored to shoot a member of one of the Ohio regiments, who had approached
to render him assistance; which so outraged the goodhearted soldier, that he lifted his musket to blow out his
enemy's brains.
A moment's reflection made him magnanimous, however, and he left the Mississippian to care for himself.
The many instances I might relate of daring, suffering,
and heroism, on both sides, prove how mysteriously what
we call Good and Evil is commingled in Humanity;
that even through the dark clouds of War the sun of
Justice and Mercy streams; that on the most barren
heath fair flowers are breathing out their sweetness ever,
though all unseen.




AFTER THE BATTLE.


79


Few persons but have some curiosity about battlefields, and a positive wish to know how men feel under
fire, especially before custom has made them indifferent.
Most of those at Donelson must have had that experience,
as the field was such that few could go to any part of it
without incurring more or less risk.
Hardly any one could see the Rebels or their guns;
and, consequently, the first intimation of their presence
was the falling of a shell, or the rattling of shot or ballu
in his immediate vicinity.
I am not aware that I have any courage, moral or
physical; but the sensations under fire, judging from my
experience, are different from what is anticipated.
A reasoning man, with a love of adventure, at firstfeels alarmed; and his impulse is to run away; and if he
has no motive to stand, he probably does run. But at
each additional exposure he grows less timid, and after
hearing canister and grape about his ears a dozen times,,
begins to think he is not destined to be hurt.
He still feels rather uneasy, perhaps; but the danger
acquires a sort of fascination; and, though he does not
wish to be hit, he likes to have narrow escapes, and. so
voluntarily places himself in a position where he can
incur more risk.
After a little while, he begins to reason the matter; reflects on the Doctrine of Probabilities, and how much
powder and lead is necessarily wasted before any man is
killed or wounded.
Why should he be, he thinks, so much more unlucky
than many other people? So reasoning, he soon can bear
the whizzing of bullets with a tolerable degree of equa



80


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


nimity, though he involuntarily dodges, or tries to dodge,
the cannon-balls and shells that go howling about his
immediate neighborhood.
In the afternoon, he is quite a different creature from
what he was in the morning, and unwittingly smiles to
see a man betray the same trepidation which he himself
exhibited a few hours before.
The more he is exposed to fire, the better he can bear
it; and the timid being of to-day becomes the hero of
to-morrow.
And he who runs from danger on his first battle-field,
may run into it on the next, and court the hazard he once,so dreaded.
Thus courage, as it is styled, is little more, with most
men, than custom; and they soon learn to despise what
lias often threatened without causing them harm.
If w'ounded, they learn wounds are less painful to bear,than they had imagined; and then the Doctrine of Probabilities teaches them once more, they are less likely to
be wounded again.
So the mental process goes on, until the nerves by
degrees become the subjects of the Will; and he only:fears who has not the will to be brave.
A young man belonging to one of the Tennessee regiments-he held the rank of first lieutenant in his company-was very dangerously wounded at Donelson, in
Saturday morning's strife, and was not expected to live
when I left Dover. where he lay in much pain.
Theyoung man stated he was a native of Harrisburg,
_Pennsylvania, and had resided there until the Autumn of




AFTER THE BATTLE.


81


1859, when he went to Columbia, Tennessee, and there
engaged in the practice of the law, with considerable
success.  While in that State, he became acquainted
with, and enamored of, a woman of culture and position
-a distant relative of General Pillow-and was soon
engaged to marry her.
The love-stream of the young couple flowed smoothly
enough until the fall of Sumter, and the secession of
Tennessee, when- the affianced husband, being a strong
Unionist, returned home, designing to wed after the
troubles were over.
The betrothed pair corresponded regularly; but, some
weeks after her lover had gone to Harrisburg, the girl,
who had suddenly grown a violent Secessionist, informed
him she would not become his wife unless he would
enlist in the Rebel service, and fight for the independence
of the South.
The young man was exceeding loth to take such a step,
and remonstrated with his love to no purpose. At last,
in the blindness of his attachment, and in the absorbing
selfishness of passion, he informed his parents of his
intention to win his mistress on the tented field.
In vain they endeavored to dissuade him from his resolution. He returned to Tennessee, raised a company,
received the congratulations of his traitorous friends, and
the copious caresses of his charming tempter.
In December, 1861, the lieutenant proceeded to Donelson, with his company; and, a few days before the
battle, he heard his betrothed was the wife of another.
His heart had never been in the cause, though in
another's keeping; and, stung by remorse, and crushed




82


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


"by the perfidy of his mistress, he had no desire to live
any longer in a world that had become hateful to him.
Unwilling to desert, or resign, on the eve of battle, lest
he might be charged with cowardice, he resolved-so he
said, at least-to lose the existence that had become unbearable to him; and, in the thickest of the fight, seeking death, without desiring to inflict it, he received a
mortal wound.
The misguided and betrayed lover must soon have
ceased to think of her who had so cruelly deceived him;
for, twenty-four hours after the wound, the Lethean
stream of Death was flowing round the Eternity-bound
island of his soul.
The double traitress, no doubt, learned all; for her
lover dictated a letter to her on his couch of pain.
Could she have been happy, even in the rosy hours of
her early marriage, when the thought of the dead adorer,
slain by her hand, darkened, like a portentous cloud, the
fair horizon of her life?
Must not his pale corpse, with its bleeding wounds,
have glided between her and her husband's arms, and
banished contentment forever from the profaned sanctuary of her spirit?
Pshaw, that is sentiment!
She was a woman of a more practical kind. Her heart
was made of sterner stuff. She could laugh and mock, no
doubt, though her sacrificed lover had stood beside her in
his winding-sheet, asking her absolution for the sins she
had caused him to commit. Was not the old English
poet correct?" When Woman once to Evil turns,
All Hell within her bosom burns1"




AFTER THE BATTLE.


83


A mere boy, of about fifteen years, from Darke County,
Ohio, being in Illinois, had enlisted in one of the regiments raised in the southern part of that State; but, as
he was in very delicate health, his father was extremely
anxious to have him released from the service, though
the youthful soldier greatly desired to remain in it.
While at Forts Henry and Donelson, the boy was very
ill, but still insisted upon performing his duty. His
father arrived at Donelson on Friday, the 14th inst., intending, if possible, to take him home.
While looking industriously for him among his companions, he learned, to his surprise and horror, that the
poor boy, after fighting gallantly on Thursday, had died
from exposure, lying, without fire or shelter, upon the
frozen ground, on that bitter and desolate night.
A lieutenant of a company in one of the Ohio regiments, while preparing for a charge, had his pipe shot
from his mouth. He laughed, and lighted it again; and,
soon after, its fire was extinguished by a Rebel rifle-ball,
which killed a man three feet from him; and, while
wondering at his escape, he received a shot through his
cap, and another struck his scabbard.
The lieutenant has since thought, no doubt, he was not
born to die on the battle-field.
The proverb that lightning does not strike the same
tree twice must be truer than that balls do not design to
do mischief to soldiers more than once during the same
engagement.




84


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


A number of our soldiers were wounded five, or six,
and even seven times, at Donelson, none of the wounds
proving serious; and yet the variation of a quarter of
an inch would have proved fatal in many of the instances. Truly-to change the aphorism-in the midst
of death we are in life.
The head of one of the enemy-a member of the Alabama Rifles-was shot off, the second day of the fight, by
a Parrott rifle-gun-First Missouri Battery-at a distance
of nearly two miles, while he was peeping above the
breastworks.
A lieutenant, in an llinois regiment, was shot with a
musket in the left cheek, the ball passing through his
mouth, which was open at the time, and, knocking out
three false teeth, carried two of them into the thigh of
his sergeant, who was at his side; making a painful, but
not serious, wound.
Curious stories were told, at Donelson, of some ultraprofessional journalists on the field, who never for a
moment forgot their calling, or the disagreeable duties
it imposed. They never moved out of range until they
had completed their notes, though the shot and shell fell
like hail; and conducted their business as calmly as if
they were reporting a political speech.
One of the Correspondents is said to have locked
General S. B. Buckner in a room at Dover, and kept him
there, in spite of threats, until he had taken a pencil
sketch of his person.
Another-so rumor says-declared to General Bushrod
K. Johnson, that he would give him shameful ante



AFTER THE BATTLE.


85


cedents, unless he furnished materials for a brief biography.
Johnson blustered, at first; but when the newspaperscribbler began putting down and reading, in a loud
voice: "B. K. Johnson, a native of Massachusetts, formerly one of the editors of Lloyd Garrison's anti-slavery
journal, but compelled to fly to Tennessee, on account of
having been detected in a forgery of his father's name,"
etc., Bushrod became a suppliant, and gave the irrepressible fellow the main events of his life.
The representative of a New York journal is stated to
have run up to a wounded officer of distinction, who
believed himself mortally hurt, and begged him not to
die yet, for the sake of the, which he had the
honor to represent; remarking, if he had any last words
to utter, that they should appear in the best form, in the
earliest possible issue of his widely circulated and
highly influential journal.
The officer turned away his head in abhorrence'and
disgust, and some of his friends compelled the painfully
persevering correspondent to retire; but the professor of
the quill insisted he could make a better speech for the
wounded soldier than he could make for himself, and
expressed the hope that he would not give any member
of the Press the least hint of his dying sentiments, under
any circumstances whatever.
I am very anxious to believe, for the honor of journalism, such stories are untrue; but I fear they have some
foundation, as there are men in our profession, who, in
the discharge of their duties, forget they are any thing
but machines, and, to the furtherance of their duties,




86            FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.
sacrifice every sentiment of humanity and every prompting of sensibility.
They do not know that the mistaken journalist, who
loses sight of what belongs to a gentleman, may earn
success in his vocation, but must forever despair of the
respect and esteem that render his profession not only
useful but honorable.




OCCUPATION OF COLUMBUS.


CHAPTER XIII.
OCCUPATION OF COLUMBUS.
The Departure for the Rebel Stronghold.-Uncertainty of the Situation.-Doubts
and Apprehensions.-Pleasant Discovery.-Enthusiasm on Board the Flotilla.
-Abortive Defenses of the Enemy.-Evidences of Excessive Orthodoxy.Superstition and Swagger.-Pikes and Long Knives in Abundance.
FOR some days before the Union Flotilla left Cairo,
there were reports that Columbus had been evacuated;
and though there were many external signs to corroborate
the impression, no one knew what the condition of affairs
was at the Rebel stronghold.
Commodore Foote determined, on the 4th of March,
1862, to acquire that important information; and before
dawn every thing was in readiness, and the gunboats and
transports steamed down the river, their officers profusely
speculating whether they would have a fight or a peaceful occupation.
The Tribune Correspondent was on the Illinois, and,
as we moved down the Mississippi, it was amusing to
hear the conversation and questions in the pilot-house,
where another Bohemian and Colonel Buford were also
standing, all with glasses in their hands.
The gunboats were just in advance of us, steaming very
slowly and cautiously, for they feared the Rebels, as had
been often declared, had laid a trap for the "barbarous
Yankees."




88


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


We were in direct range, below the island opposite the
fortifications, and glasses were anxiously sweeping the
Eastern and Western horizon.
We thought we descried large guns plainly, and some
one said, "I see men behind the breastworks. The
Rebels are about to fire. Those immense guns will sink
us like an eggshell."
That cheering intelligence caused silence for a few
seconds; but some one laughed, and said: "Let the
Rebels fire, and be d- d."
They did not fire; but I am quite sure they will be
d-   d, if the Calvinistic theology be true.
"Do you see that flag?" was inquired. "Those are
Rebel colors."  " I see more cavalry."  "The Rebels
are coming down the bluff." "The battle is about to
begin."
"Wasn't that a cannon "   "They are running-see
them on the hill."  "Are those their tents?"  "They
are burning them-do you see the fire?"
" A few minutes, and we'll know all about it, boys,"
observed the bluff old pilot. "Beauregard's a cunning
fox."  "He is there, you may be sure.  He wouldn't
desert such a stronghold. He's only waiting to get us
under his guns, and open on us."  "I'll bet there are
thousands of the enemy behind those breastworks."
" Yes, indeed, you'll see them soon enough."  "I want
our mortar-boats to begin. They'll give the rebels the
devil-won't they?"
Such were the fragments of conversation on the transport, as she proceeded slowly down the river in the rear
of the gunboats.




OCCUPATION OF COLUMBUS.


89


The morning was rather pleasant, but hazy, and while
we were straining our eyes to penetrate the attractive
distance, a soft breeze, which we felt bathing our faces
with early Spring, lifted the flag upon the Kentucky bluffs,
and the glorious old Stars and Stripes shone out bright
and clear.
Columbus had already been occupied by a regiment of
our cavalry which had proceeded there by land. At that
moment our hats were off, and three cheers for the Union
rang out across the silent bosom of the Mississippi.
The cry was caught up from the gunboats, and the
distant bluffs echoed the joyous shout.
Our bands played "Dixie"-that detestable air which
I am sorry Secessia has not been allowed to monopolize
-and with waving hats and banners, we were soon passing the Rebel fortifications, whose guns had been dismounted-and steaming into the landing of the famed
and fearful town.
As soon as the distance rendered it possible, I leaped
on shore, and struggled hurriedly up the lofty bluff on
which the chief works of the enemy were located.
For five or six hours I occupied myself in walking over
the enemy's works, through their deserted barracks and
the town, up and down the ravines, over the fallen timber, climbing the bluffs, stumbling through the rayless
magazines, and seeing, in a word, all that it was possible
for me to see.
Two heavy iron cables were thrown across the Mississippi, and secured at each end by immense anchors; but
both had been broken.
Any quantity of torpedoes had been sunk in the river,




90


FOUR YEARS IN SEOESSIA.


but they were as harmless as a pretty school-girl who
does the tragedy at a literary exhibition
About one hundred of these submarine failures were
piled up on the banks, with accompanying buoys and
anchors, and they looked as innocent as unrewarded
virtue. They must have been rejected members of the
Peace Society; and if one would have tied a white cravat
about them, they would have passed for the meekest of
clergymen.
The enemy at Columbus must have been extremely
jocose. I found a number of Valentines the troops had
sent each other, with droll letters, showing their fondness
for, and appreciation of, humor.
We found a number of stuffed figures of President
Lincoln, General McClellan, Horace Greeley, and others,
represented in the most grotesque form, and always associated in some way with the gallows and with negroes.
They were "gotten up" with bottles in their hands in
every instance, and some ultra-Abolition sentiment invariably ascribed to them. Some of their jests would
have been sufficiently apt a few weeks before, but then
they were inappropriate enough.
In the deserted camps and abandoned barracks we
found various letters and documents, all breathing the
most fervent spirit of orthodoxy, the loftiest appeals to
Providence, the largest faith in its determination to overthrow the wicked Yankees, who would not let the saintly
Rebels alone in the enjoyment of their rights.
Not satisfied with the most ardent irrational appeals to
the strongest prejudices and worst passions of their blind
followers, the Rebels seek to impress them with the




OCCUPATION OF COLUMBUS.


91


mockery that God is in their favor and fighting their battles for them; that He sometimes preserves, as Kentucky
tried to do, an armed neutrality, to humble their pride,
and prove how little they can effect without His allpowerful aid.
What a jest is that! What a gross impiety it must
seem to some!
The idea of the Almighty arraying Himself on the side
of Treason, Oppression, Cruelty, and Slavery, would be
monstrous, if it were not ridiculous.
Murderers might as well pray to Him to shield them
from harm during the progress of their assassinations, or
profligates ask His assistance in the betrayal of an innocent maid, as they invoke the protection of Heaven, or
claim its sympathy with their unholy cause.
Knowing that many, perhaps most, men have a strong
religious bias, and believe in special providence, the
demagogues of the South endeavor to profit by such
mental conditions.
They turn to Superstition when Reason fails, comprehending that early teachings and inflammatory appeals
are more potent in the bosom of most mortals than acquired knowledge and dispassionate argument.
If we were to believe the Southern press, we would be
compelled to acknowledge God as the vicegerent of the
"Confederacy," and the chief, though invisible, member
of its traitorous cabinet; Abraham Lincoln and the devil
as sworn friends, who had formed a plan to destroy the
"last remnant of liberty on earth."
If God is with the Rebels, say I, let us accept the devil
as a loyal citizen, with his tail, horns, hoofs, and his
7




92


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


large interest in the brimstone trade, that the Calvinists
have assigned to his sulphurous majesty.
A  large number of pikes, and of those murderouslooking knives with which the Rebels were to strike at
once terror and death to the hearts of the North, were
found at Columbus, and seized as trophies.
On every battle-field, and in every evacuated position,
these knives have been picked up by our victorious
soldiers. It would seem the enemy manufactured them
not for use, but show; intending to prove, by their exposure, with what a terrible set of fellows the North
had to deal.
In ancient days, the valor of a nation was determined
by the shortness of its weapons; but I opine the nation
did something more than throw them away at the approach of real danger.
I have never known an instance in which the Rebels
used, or attempted to use, those knives, so savage in
semblance; and I must conclude they were designed to
produce a moral effect.
The pikes they have never employed, either, against
their foes; nor will they, from present appearances, for
some time to come.
They do not seem to comprehend their proper use;
though, if we had believed the Southern papers, they
were to be among the chief means of liberating secession
from the yoke of its oppressors.
They proved serviceable to our men in climbing the
steep bluffs of Columbus, though they did not deem
them adapted to the sanguinary pursuits of war.




BATTLE OF PEA RIDGE.


93


CHAPTER XIV.
BATTLE OF PEA RIDGE.
The Three Days' Fighting.-Desperate Struggle for the Possession of the Train.
— Sigel's Heroism.-Tremendous Contest for the Guns.-Hand to Hand Combats.-An Epic of War.-Triumph of the Republic.-Retreat of the Rebels.
THE Rebels, before they began the now memorable
battle of Pea Ridge, in Benton County, Arkansas, on
Thursday morning, March 6th, 1862, were entirely confident of success, and their chief concern was only how
to destroy or capture our whole force.
General Curtis anticipated an attack on the South, and
accordingly had the train placed on the North side,
under the protection of General Sigel, with a body of
eight hundred men-the principal Union encampment
and main lines being to the eastward, near the head
and on both sides of Sugar Creek.
Meantime, the Rebel forces were moving in full
strength from Bentonville, whence they had proceeded
from Cross Hollows, and with rapid marches were
endeavoring to cross the creek, and, by placing themselves on the North, to cut off any attempt on our part to
retreat.
An advance of about two thousand cavalry reached the
desired position, and made a fierce onslaught on Sigel,
hoping to take possession of our large and valuable
train.




94


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Sigel proved himself the right man in the right place.
He gallantly met the enemy, and, while he repelled his
charge, prevented him from seizing our wagons.
The brave and accomplished officer seemed ubiquitous.
He rode rapidly here and there, giving orders and observing the point of attack and the situation of the
enemy, at the same time cheering and encouraging his
troops.
Often he was in the thickest of the fight, and yet he
"was always cool, calculating, and skillful, exposing
himself as a common soldier, and yet preserving the
calm judgment of a commander-in-chief.
Sigel's desire was to keep the communication open
between himself and the main camp, while the enemy's
design was to cut off that avenue for the obtainment
of re-enforcements.
The Rebels closed round him with tumultuous shouts,
and believed they had accomplished their purpose, when
Sigel rushed in upon them with his brave followers, and
compelled them to give way.
Sigel could not abandon the train; and so he fought
on, and exhorted his men to renewed hope and courage
by his example.
For two hours the strife went on with great ardor
on both sides, but it seemed as if the Unionists would
soon be compelled to yield.
There seemed no hope for them; that they must become exhausted; and doubtless they would have done
so, had their destiny been in less powerful and experienced hands than Sigel's.
The waves of opposition rolled around Sigel's coura



BATTLE OF PEA RIDGE.


95


geous band once more; and again the traitorous shout
went up to the sky, and swept like a note of victory
along the rising hill.
Many a stout loyal heart doubtless sank when that cry
was heard; but Sigel had no thought of failure.
He was fighting for his adopted country and the
salvation of his little band; and, ordering three companies of his men to charge bayonets, the Rebel cavalry
were dispersed, and the way was open once more.
Still no re-enforcements came, and our gallant soldiers
appeared contending for a forlorn hope.
About the trains the din of strife rose louder than
before, and the rattle of musketry and the boom of cannon
awoke the surrounding echoes.
The enemy was losing ground. He rallied, and fell
with redoubled force on our heroic band, two hundred
of whom had already sealed their patriotism with their
blood.
The combat was hand to hand. Horsemen were dismounted and struggling with the infantry, while the
officers were sometimes seen defending themselves against
the advancing bayonets of the common soldiers.
A superhuman effort on the part of the enemy, and a
third time the Unionists were surrounded.
Firmer and firmer were the Rebels closing round the
five or six hundred braves, who were evidently going to
the wall.
The sun of Hope seemed sinking, though that of Nature
was shining clear from out the quiet sky.
Sigel saw the smile of Heaven only, and would not
despond.  His eye flashed and his form expanded as




96


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


the shouts of the enemy rose above the din of the
struggle.
Only one way was left.
"Follow me!" thundered Sigel, and his proud steed
trampled an approaching Rebel under his fiery feet.
A deep, strong, earnest cry from the Unionists, and
they met the foe with the rush of determination and the
energy of despair.
The Secession line could not. endure the shock. It
recoiled, was thrown into confusion, and retired from a
position that had been deemed as secure as the Alpine
peaks. And Sigel was victorious, with the sun still
"beaming clearly out of the quiet sky.
The train was saved.
The first day was won.
The prestige of success was established, and the Future
looked blue with hope as the violets of the'early year.
The enemy, during the night and early the following
morning, March 7th, poured in from the Bentonville road,
and gathered in heavy force to our rear; sweeping round
to the right, and occupying both sides of the Keetsville
road-a position from which it was absolutely necessary
to dislodge him, or surrender all hope of success.
Truly, before the second day's engagement began, the
prospect was very dark. Defeat seemed to stare us in
the face, aud the sole thing possible appeared a struggle
to prevent too disastrous a discomfiture.
The way to Missouri was defended by thirty thousand
of the enemy, and we had little more than one-third the
number to dispute the perilous passage.
On the South were the Boston Mountains. To the East




BATTLE OF PEA RIDGE.


97


or West we could not go. Were we not hemmed in by
nature and the enemy?
Conid we longer resist? Could we say we were contending only for victory, when the shadows were lengthening and deepening on our hearts?
General Carr was sent by General Curtis to force the
enemy from his position, and about ten o'clock in the
morning the battle was renewed with increased ardor, and
soon the batteries from both sides were replying to each
other with death-dealing voices.
The main action in the morning was to the right of our
encampment, and for seven hours the field was hotly
contested.
General Carr made a spirited and heavy charge upon
the enemy under McCulloch and Price.
The musket and rifle firing was very sharp, and every
few seconds the boom of the batteries burst across the
country, and the iron hail swept down the stream of life,
and filled the surging, noisy waves with, spectral
corpses.
The Rebels reeled as we went against them, but their
column did not break.
The charge was repeated.
Still the foe stood firm, opening a galling fire from two
batteries whose presence had not before been known.
Our troops were thrown into confusion, and three companies of infantry and Colonel Ellis's cavalry were
ordered to silence the destructive guns.
Like lightning our men leaped forth prompt to the
word, and raged about the Rebel batteries as ravenous
wolves around a sheep-fold.    Everywhere the strife




98


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


roared; everywhere the smoke crept; everywhere the
ground shook.
The sunbeams glanced off from the swords and 'bayonets, but they ceased to shine for many eyes on that
blood-stained day.
Carr's column advanced and fell back, and advanced
again; and beyond them, up the hill, the cavalry and
infantry were struggling to capture the detested guns.
The regiment which protected the batteries met them
fairly and freely, and for half an hour the two combatants
were so commingled that they almost failed to recognize
one another.
"Our men have the batteries!" was announced, and
the Unionists made the welkin ring with their huzzas.
Yes, it was so!
Through the blue curling vapors our men could be seen
dragging the guns after them.
Ere they had gone a hundred yards, the Rebels were
behind them; struggling like Hercules for the repossession of the pieces.
Blood streamed anew, and shouts, and groans, and
prayers, and curses went up with the gigantic forms of
smoke into the upper air.
Appropriate incense to waft the elements of battle to
the skies.
No noise now. All is silent, as when men are holding
their breath for a deadly struggle.
The suspense is awful. It cannot last.
Do you not hear a thousand hearts beat across the
plain? Anxiety has made the roar of battle almost inaudible-so keenly is the sense upon the rack.




BATTLE OF PEA RIDGE.


99


Countless throats are roaring with triumph.
Brief triumph! The batteries are lost. Our men have
been overpowered by numbers. They retire, and blood
marks their progress, and many dead are abandoned.
The recaptured guns are revenging themselves. Their
shot and shell are plowing up the ground, and tearing
open brave bosoms, and making history, and peopling
graves.
The batteries are sought once more. We win them
back with blood. We are hurrying them       off. The
Rebels stare like demons out of malignant eyes. and
curse through firm-set teeth.
Triumph is about to crown our efforts, when a large
force of the enemy, repulsed by General Davis from that
section of Pea Ridge known as Leetown, throng to the
rescue.
A dozen combats over the guns, and the contest is
still undecided, when the darkness gathers, and through
the night the enemy is seen bearing off his twice-captured, twice-recaptured guns.
Nature is no longer an impartial witness.
She draws the curtain; and the camp-fires blaze along
the roads, and light up the trees.
Man's Pandemonium is profaning the holy Night.
Midnight comes, and the scattered words of the
sentinels are heard; and the Unionists and Rebels
are sleeping on their arms; dreaming, it may be, of the
time when they were friends and brothers, and America
had not become one vast military camp.
The stars, too, are keeping watch on the battlements of
Heaven.




100


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


They challenge no one. They seem to say to all the
weary and worn, "Come hither! Here is peace."
Speak they, or be they forever silent, there are many
spirits in the air seeking peace that is not of Earth.
At six o'clock on the morning of the 8th, our guns
opened on the enemy, and our fire was returned from
twenty pieces.
The firing did little harm. The enemy's shot passed
over our heads. Our cause was growing darker. That
day must win or lose the battle.
As yet, the fortunes of war incline to neither side. We
have reason to be alarmed; but hope and courage are
firm counselors, and add strength to weak arms.
General Sigel observes new positiois for our operations. We plant six batteries at different points commanding their principal forces. A fire of ball is shattering the space with its roar.
The enemy's list of mortality is swelling. He does not
understand our great advantages; he turns pale, and
hesitates to advance.
No time is given him for reflection; he is in the midst
of his soul's perplexity, while    judgment tosses in
fevered sleep.
Our entire infantry is engaged. The Rebels meet our
dreadful volleys of musketry for a quarter of an hour;
but their firing slackens.
Still our batteries are forcing the verdict of the outraged nation into their startled souls.
The cannon answers the musketry; the musketry
replies to the cannon.
Every inch of ground appears alive with troops;




BATTLE OF PEA RIDGE.


101


every twig and dry leaf seems ablaze. The balls are
falling like the large drops of a summer shower. The
Pentecost of war is descending.
The Rebels can endure no longer the sheet of flame,
out of which go Death and Pain in a thousand forms.
They have lost their faith in their bad cause and themselves. They are panic-stricken. They fly, and a roar
of victory follows them, as the waves of the river the
lean and hungry shore.
They turn not back. Two of their Generals have
received their mortal wounds, and the word is: "Save
himself who can."
The Unionists have beaten them, and their star has set
over the verdureless ridge of that hard-fought field.
The birds twitter overhead. The sun shines warmer
and clearer.
The atmosphere of blood is purified by the feeling that
it was shed in a sacred cause.
The Spring greets the victors, and kisses their burning
brows with the same pure lips that call forth the early
flowers.
Nature rejoices over the triumph of principle; for
Nature is the Order and the Law.
The Unionists pursue the broken columns; and the
breezes come wafting the victorious shouts; and the incense of the youthful March, revealing that all is well,
and that the Future is secure.
*            *             *             *
Concerning the death of Generals McCulloch and McIntosh, there seems to be but one opinion. Both of themn
were mortally wounded on Friday, during the heavy




102


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


fighting by General Jeff. C. Davis against the center
column of the enemy. It will be remembered the Rebels
gave way, and the two Southern chieftains made the
most determined efforts to rally them in vain.
McCulloch was struck with a Minie rifle-ball in the
left breast-as I am assured by one who says he saw him
fall, and after he was taken from the ground-while
waving his sword and encouraging his men to stand firm.
He died of his wounds about eleven o'clock the same
night; though he insisted that he would recover, repeatedly saying with great oaths that he was not born to be
killed by a Yankee.
A few minutes before he expired, his physician assured
him he had but a very brief time to live. At this Ben.
looked up incredulously, and saying, "Oh, Hell!" turned
away his head, and never spoke after.
The Southern papers no doubt have put some very fine
sentiment into his mouth in his closing moments; but the
last words I have mentioned are declared by a prisoner
to be correct.  They are not very elegant nor very
dramatic, but quite expressive, and, in McCulloch's case,
decidedly appropriate.
It is reported that McIntosh was struck near the right
hip with a grapeshot, while giving an order to one of his
aids, and hurled from his horse.
The wound was a ghastly one, and though it must have
been very painful, McIntosh uttered no groan, but calmly
gave directions for his treatment. A few minutes after, he
fell into a comatose state, from which he never recovered
— passing through Death's dark portal while his attendants supposed he still lay beside the golden gates of Sleep.




PROSE AND POESY OF WAR.


103


CHAPTER XV.
PROSE AND POESY OF WAR.
Facts and Fancies from Pea Ridge.-The Preservative Power of Tobacco.-A
Song-Book doing the Work of aBible.-Mysterious Instance of Sympathy.Another Fabian dei Franchi.-Painful Fate of a Union Lieutenant.-A Reck,
less Indianian.-A Magnanimous Rebel.-A Gallant Iowa Colonel.
A NUMBER of singular and interesting incidents occurred on the field of Pea Ridge, some of which are
worth relating, even at this late day.
A private of the Twelfth Missouri was advancing
toward the head of the Hollows, on Saturday, with his
regiment, under a heavy fire from the enemy-stationed on
a hill above, when he was struck by a musket-ball near
the heart, and thrown heavily to the earth.
The poor fellow thought no doubt his last moment had
come; but after lying for some time on the ground, and
feeling no pain, he thought he would see, if possible,
where he was hit.
He rose, and opened his vest, and discovered a bullet
half imbedded in a large, thick, moist layer of tobacco
which he had stolen the day before, and placed under
his garment for concealment.
The moist condition of the tobacco had prevented the
leaden messenger from fulfilling its fatal mission.
The tobacco was all that had interfered between him
and Heaven.




104


FOtIR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Had he cause to lament or rejoice?
Who knows?
What philosopher can determine whether it be better to
live or die?
The soldier, not being a philosopher, rejoiced.
Most men would have done likewise; for not many of
us mortals have time to die; and in America few can
afford it, though we indulge in the luxury at a most
ruinous rate.
Let no one say hereafter there is no virtue in stealing.
There the act preserved a brave fellow's life to his
country.
For the sake of the time-honored tradition and all Sunday Schools, I am sorry to say I have heard of no instance
in which a life was saved by a Bible; and I am bound to
believe the fact is owing to the great scarcity of the sacred
volume in the army, rather than to any want of preserving power in the Holy Book itself.
Of a secular song-book, rather ribald in character, I
fear, I can relate a different story.
One of the Thirty-Sixth Illinois troops carried a volume
of the sort in his cap, and a small rifle-ball passed through
the cloth and stunned him.   He afterward found the
bullet had gone through one of the corners of the book,
and when he removed it, the metallic fate fell from the
leaves.
I can only account for the phenomenon by supposing
that the verses of the songs were so execrable, that the
ball, like any reader of good taste, could not, by any possibility, get more than half way through the contents.




PROSE AND POESY OF WAR.


105


Can it be said hereafter of the Illinois volunteer that
his life was not worth a song?
The subtle and mysterious power of sympathy, sentimental metaphysicians have sought fruitlessly to unravel,
and Dumas, in the "Corsican Brothers," has pictured the
phenomena in its fullness.
A very strange example of the influence of sympathy
is reported to have occurred during the battle on Friday.
Hiram P. Lord, of the Twenty-fifth Missouri, Colonel
Phelps, while charging up a ravine, fell as if dead, and
his companions ran to him and asked if he was hurt.
He did not answer, for he had swooned.
On reviving, he said he must have been struck by a
ball, for he felt a pain in his left side, and had distinctly
experienced the stunning sensation that results from a
gun-shot wound.
His person was examined, and no mark or indication
of injury was perceptible.
He could not comprehend the mystery, but soon after
resumed the fight, and forgot the sensation until he had
returned to the camp, when he learned, to his surprise and
sorrow, that his twin brother George was among the dead.
George had been in another part of the field, and had
been shot in the same part of the body, and at the same
time, that Hiram had believed himself mortally wounded.
The sympathy between the two brothers had ever been
complete, and the illness of one was usually accompanied
by the sickness of the other.
Strange, if true, say many; but the stranger, the truer,
declare the students of Nature.




106


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


A melancholy incident occurred to a lieutenant (whose
name I was unable to learn) in one of the Iowa companies,
that I cannot forbear mentioning.
He had been shot in the leg, and had fallen. He rose,
and supporting himself upon a stump, urged his company, whose captain had been killed, to push on in the
then important crisis toward the re-enforcement of General Carr.
While the lieutenant was waving his sword, an artillery wagon was driven madly along the road, by the
side of which he was standing. The wheel struck him,
threw him to the ground, and the heavy carriage passed
over his neck, causing his instant death.
Poor fellow! I saw rude men weep over his corpse,
and they proved themselves braver and truer for their
tears.
A private in the Eighteenth Indiana had been left
behind for some reason, when his regiment was ordered
to the upper part of the Ridge. Before it reached there,
it became engaged with the Rebels, and was cut off.
The Indianian resolved to join his companions in arms.
though persuaded not to do so, as it was madness to
make the attempt.
He heeded not counsel, but hurried forward, and was
last seen contending with a score of foes.
His fate is unknown, but he must have perished.
Where there was so much valor, there were some
individual instances of its opposite, but very, very
few; for timidity is a quality little known to American




PROSE AND POESY OF WAR.


107


soldiers, fighting in the cause of freedom, and the Republic they have sworn to protect.
A soldier, whose nerves, poor fellow, were weaker
than his will, climbed into a tree during the severe
fight of Friday; and while there a round shot accidentally struck him, and hurled him, a bloody and
irrecognizable mass, to the ground.
Had the soldier remained where his duty ordered, he
would probably have been living still. The poet sang
truly:" The coward often finds the death he shuns,
In that his drunken fear his sober judgment clouds."
Even Secession cannot crush the noble instincts of theheart. Even a Rebel often has the generous qualities of
Nature, and the lofty instincts of a gentleman.
A Colonel of one of the Louisiana regiments saw a
poor private, a Unionist, lying wounded alone by the
roadside, and begging for a drink.
The Colonel dismounted, and, taking the soldier's
canteen, went to the creek and filled it, gave him a drink,
and placed him in an easier position; and all that while
our bullets were flying thick in his immediate vicinity.
I am very sorry I do not know the gallant Colonel's
name. He never did a nobler act on the battle-field.
He has some reason to boast of chivalry, though I
doubt if he does so.
If the South comprehended chivalry as he comprehends it, their assumption of that high attribute would
not render it a subject of jest and an object of scorn.
8




108           FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.
Lieutenant-Colonel Herron of the Ninth Iowa, now
Major-General, was wounded in the battle and taken
prisoner, though he lost his liberty through no fault
of his, as he seemed determined to die rather than
'fall into Rebel hands. He was surrounded by ten or
twelve of the enemy, and his surrender demanded in
vain.
He killed one and wounded three of the Rebels, and
was making every resistance with his sword, when his
arms were seized, and his opposition rendered impossible. He would have been slain most assuredly, had:not a Southern major saved his life, and shot an Indian
dead who was trying to butcher him after his arms were
lbound with a handkerchief.




INDIAN ATROCITIES.


109


CHAPTER XVI.
INDIAN ATROCITIES.
Aboriginal Outrages and Barbarities at Pea Ridge.-Minds of the Savages poisoned by the Rebels.-Whisky and Gunpowder Stimulant.-The Indians Scalp
Friend and Foe Alike.-Slaughter of the Red Men by their own Allies.
THE three thousand Cherokee, Choctaw, Creek, and
Seminole Indians, under Colonel Albert Pike, a renegade
son of Connecticut, committed the greatest atrocities on
the field of Pea Ridge; not only plundering and maiming the dead, but actually murdering and scalping the
wounded as they lay helpless and suffering on the
ground.
More than one hundred and twenty of our brave men
were thus barbarously treated by the savage foe, who
had been wrought to a pitch of frenzy by the Rebels,
through passionate appeals, and declarations that the
"Yankees" designed to enslave them, and force them,
with chains and whips, to do the vilest drudgery in
their aristocratic homes in the North.
Not only did the enemy thus poison their minds, but
every day, before the savages went into action, it is
reported, they received large potations of whiskey mixed
with gunpowder, which rendered the naturally fierce
sons of the forest perfect demons.
Under such extraordinary stimulant, they forgot their
usual caution, and, exposing themselves after the American fashion, were killed in great numbers.




110


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Still, they were very formidable, and often attacked
the Unionists in the rear, as they were passing some
bend in the road or piece of wooded land, and did
much execution.
They yelled, and danced, and brandished their knives,
and acted like madmen; but when they grew partially
sober, became more prudent, and fought after their
time-honored fashion, from behind trees and fallen
timber.
When our troops discovered on the second day that
the Indians were using the scalping-knife, their rage
knew no bounds, and they made sad havoc in the ranks
of the red devils, slaying them without mercy whenever
and wherever they could reach them.
In one instance, the Second Iowa Battery, which had
four of its members scalped, obtained the range of a
body of four or five hundred of the savages, and fired
several charges of cannister and shell upon them in
rapid succession, at a distance of not more than a quarter of a mile.
The effect upon the aborigines was terrible. They
were cut down like grass, and the dusky demons who
were unhurt ran howling from the field, and could not be
rallied again on that day (Friday), though Colonel
Albert Pike, it is said, shot several with his own hand,
and bawled at them until he was hoarse.
Some ten or twelve of the chiefs were killed, whose
names I can not undertake to give.
One of them, a Seminole, was very famous as a warrior
in his tribe, and, though over fifty years of age, was
athletic and daring to an extraordinary degree.




INDIAN ATROCITIES.


111


He is said to have fought with the celebrated Red
Jacket in Florida, during the Seminole war, and bore
upon his person no less than twenty wounds.
It is said the Indians, in the engagement of Friday,
"became so excited by the alcohol they had drank and
the scenes they witnessed, that they turned their weapons
upon their own allies, and butchered and scalped the
Rebels and Unionists with the most charming indifference.
An instance of that was given by one of our prisoners,
a member of one of the companies that suffered from
what the Southerners believed to be the treachery of the
savages.
Four companies of Arkansas infantry, belonging to Ben
McCulloch's division, were marching up one of the ridges
north of Sugar Creek, on Saturday, to strengthen the
enemy, who was hardly pressed by General Sigel.
The Arkansans had come in sight of about three hundred Creeks and Choctaws, who stood on the brow of an
adjacent hill, and were within about one hundred and
fifty yards of the savages, when the latter opened fire
on them.
The Rebel Major who commanded the battalion cried
out to them, that they were killing their friends; but the
Indians did not heed what he said, and again discharged
their pieces.
"The d-   d rascals have turned traitors," cried the
Major. "Upon them, Arkansans, and give them no
quarter."
The Southerners needed no second order.
They attacked them with great energy, and for nearly




112           FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.
an hour a desperate battle was waged on the Ridge; the
Indians fighting with blind fury, and scalping all who
fell into their hands, whether living, wounded, or dead.
That was described as one of the severest actions of
the entire battle, and the Indians, who were finally
routed, are said to have lost one hundred and twenty-five
in killed and wounded.




BENIGHTED ARKANSAS.


113


CHAPTER XVII.
BENIGHTED ARKANSAS.
Semi-Barbarism of the People.-Benton County as an Example.-Extent of the
Conscription.-Modern Harpies in the Shape of Women.-The Loyal Sentiment
of the State.-Chivalrous Mode of its Suppression.
THE semi-barbarous condition of Arkansas has become
proverbial in this country; and yet no one who has not
traveled in the State can have any just idea of the ignorance and immorality that prevail there.
If a foreigner were set down in that Patagonia of places,
and told that it was one of the component parts of the
Great Republic, famous for its school-houses, railways,
and newspapers, he would not believe a story so apparently self-contradictory.
In Benton County, in which Pea Ridge was fought, one
sees very few indications of civilization, and it would
seem an anomaly if loyalty ever could have flourished
on such barren soil.
The population was not then, and is not now, over
eighteen hundred, though it once boasted of four thousand. The dwellings were usually miles apart, and made
of logs and mud, presenting a most cheerless and squalid
appearance. No one was at home save women and children, and the old men, and very few of them; even
those of sixty years, who were not diseased, having been
impressed into the Rebel army.




114


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


The women were only such in name; their sex, in their
absence of physiological demonstration, requiring to be
taken on faith.
Tall, meagre, sallow, with hard features and large
bones, they would have appeared masculine if they had
not been too attenuated to suggest the possibility of
health or strength.
They drank whisky and smoked as freely as men;
often chewed tobacco, and went about swearing in discordant tones, and expectorating skillfully, and were as
hideous as any Tophetian trollops that the most depraved mind could imagine.
Very few of the common people-and Heaven knows
they were common enough-could read or write; and it
was not unusual to find but one or two in a township so
blessed beyond their kind.
Ignorance and crime were inseparable companions, and
it was no wonder vice there assumed many of its lowest
and most disgusting forms.
The life led was one of brutalized sense and dissipation. Practical amalgamation, gambling, and fighting were
the end and aim of Arkansas existence. Not many of
the people had been out of the State-just think of a
being that had no idea beyond or above that Bceotia-and
they lived, if I may employ so inappropriate a verb, and
died there unpenetrated by a ray of Beauty; unlifted by
a hope of Advancement; undeveloped by a thought of
Change.
Among some of the farmers in that county were men
of considerable intelligence, but they were generally
from other States.




BENIGHTED ARKANSAS.


115


The true Arkansan knows nothing, and learns nothing.
He regards education in every form as a Yankee invention that has a tendency to interfere with the institution
of slavery, which many of the poor whites adore, because
they own no negroes.
With several of the most intelligent people in Benton
County, and with some of the prisoners, I conversed on
the subject of the Union sentiment in Arkansas; and
they said the people, strange as it may seem, would never
have gone with the "Confederacy," if they had been
allowed to determine the question for themselves.
Throughout the entire State men went as emissaries of
Secession, and told the people they must go out of the
Union if they did not wish to be deprived of their
slaves and ruled by the "Yankees," who would compel
them to perform all menial offices.
Their property, their wives, their children would be
taken from them; they would exchange position with
their negroes, and the latter be made their masters.
Those arguments even the Arkansans could comprehend, and, in a few weeks after the diffusion of such
tefarious sentiments, the State was thrown into a terrible
excitement.
A reaction occurred. A few thinking Union men
enlightened the half-crazed community, and told them
they were deceived; that Secession would ruin them;
that their only safety was in the Union, and that President Lincoln had no disposition and no intention to interfere with any of their constitutional rights.
The advice came too late. The Rebels had by that
time gained.the power by seizing all the arms and organ



116


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


izing themselves throughout the State; and thereafter
they had full and absolute sway.
They pillaged and destroyed wherever they went, and
the people found their worst enemies were at home.
Terror-stricken, they yielded, for they knew their lives
were in the hands of the oppressors, and after that period
hardly a man had dared to lift his voice against the outrageous tyranny imposed upon the State.
Perhaps the oppressed were wise in their reticence,
for the means of enforcing eternal silence were not
wanting.
Men were often carried off by armed bands who broke
into quiet habitations at unseasonable hours of the night;
were whipped, tarred and feathered; dragged through
horse-ponds, and often hanged or otherwise murdered,
because they were charged with disloyalty to the South.
Loyalty to the Union was the unpardonable offense,
and the individual suspected of any such sentiment was
liable to assassination anywhere.
Hundreds of men escaped from the confines of the
State, leaving their families and all their property behind,
fearing to remain longer where their lives were not worth
a moment's purchase.
Any scoundrel could make an accusation against an
honest citizen that would destroy his life, or drive him,
an outcast and an exile, from his home and all the associations he held dear.




DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI.


117


CHAPTER XVIII.
DOWN    THE MISSISSIPPI.
A Weary Siege.-Inaneness of Existence on the Flotilla.-Monotony and Dreariness of the Scenes.-Melancholy Character of the Mighty River.-Out in the
Night.-A Celestial Symbol.-A Canine Convert.-A Perplexed Correspondent, and Would-be Bohemian.
DURING the latter part of the month of March, 1862,
we were besieging Island No. 10, and, for several weeks,
life on the National Flotilla was dull enough.
There we were anchored in the midst of the mighty
river, or tied to the submerged trees, watching the
occasional shells from the mortars, the turbid eddying of
the swollen stream, or the leaden sky that hung over the
dreary scene like a funeral pall.
We could go nowhere except on one of the little tugs
that plied ceaselessly from gunboat to gunboat, and
transport to transport; and then we could not imagine
the direction of our journeying, or anticipate the time of
our return.
The Mississippi was shoreless; no land was visible;
and so we paced the deck of the vessel and gazed out into
the dull, dreary waste of waters, and listened to the rush
of the waves, and the whirl of the eddies, until the mind
stagnated and the spirit sank.
We had no books to peruse, no papers to read, no
letters to expect, no women even to tease or talk to; and




118


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


indeed we were as wretched a set of mortals as ever committed matrimony, or contemplated suicide.
No resource was left us.
No remedy had we for our innumerable ills.
There was no satisfaction in to-day, and no hope in tomorrow.
All the days staggered gloomily along, and awoke with
stumbling feet the weary echoes of the dreary solitude.
The cave of Polyphemus was not more dismal than
were our own surroundings. Nature seemed to sorrow
everywhere-in the sky, in the forest, on the river.
No Future was apparent there. The Present was born
in agony, and sank with pain and without resignation
into the arms of the Past.
Was ever river more dreary than the Mississippi   It
is tristful as the chant of Ayesha, or the plaint of the
Burmese bird.
It is the terrestrial Styx, and the Acheron of America.
Grand it may be; but it is grand as the Sphynx is, and
as melancholy.
No change, no relief on either side.
The gray cotton-woods greeted one at every turn,
looking like skeletons by day and spectres at night.
The sombre moss covered them like a mantle of mourning, as if Beauty were dead, and Nature were going to
her funeral. Deep, dark, dismal, the formless, shoreless
stream.
How it whirled and boiled, as if it were seething above
unseen furnaces of unseen fire!, The sky appeared to borrow the sombre semblance of
the river. No gladness, no promise, no consolation there.




DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI.


119


The clouds were murky as the waves.
The horizon touched the tops of the dreary trees, and
the dreary trees stood drearily in the dreary waters.
Misfortune, disease, and death were the portents of
Nature; and the eye read the fate of Atreus in every
external thing.
Often I paced the deck of our sable craft, long after all
hands had piped to quarters; when the Night and
Morn were passing each     other in awful silence, and
looked out upon the darkness, and into the despairing
face of Nature.
How impressively still, how utterly desolate was all!
No marvel one then believed that Pain is the creative
secret of the Universe; that Sorrow is the inheritance of
the Sphere.
All ghastly stories, all horrible destinies, all Buddhist
doctrines seemed true, as one gazed down the sad murmuring river, and watched the sombre clouds as they
stole ghost-like among the vapory graves of the troubled
and angry sky.
Dreariness, desolation, despondence, despair!
Individuality and Spirit, how weak when the superstition of Imagination wraps them round!
Still the clouds glided ghost-like, and the river surged;
and the Night waned mournfully; and Thought made
Hades for the soul.
Very much reason to doubt is there if what we call
Heaven ever sympathizes with War; but, one morning,
as we lay on the Fleet, we had an indication of celestial
recognition of our strife.




120


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


The Eastern horizon was clouded as the sun rose; and
soon the golden beams burst out from half a dozen clear
spaces, streaming downward to the rim of the concave,
and lying in yellow light along a heavy bank of shadow,
giving an exact representation of a Fort with embrasures,
parapet, and bastions, behind which the Grecian gods
might have been struggling for their ancient realm of
Chaos and of Night.
The scene certainly was striking, and by a superstitious
mind would have been invested with a meaning, and
translated according to the promptings of Desire and of
Fear.
To Reason, it was naught but vapors and the sun. To
the Poet, it was the correspondence of the Outward with
the Interior; to the Philosopher, the conformation of
Nature to the thought of Man.
*            *             *            *
To change from the sentimental strain, let me relate an
anecdote of a dog-formerly the Rebel General Tighlman' s-which remained behind after the capture of Fort
Henry, and then divided his company with different officers of the fleet.
"Ponto " seemed to be a strong Unionist in his feelings,
and to have deserted the insurgent cause as soon as he
had an opportunity.
After his master was taken prisoner, he would not
recognize him, but would growl whenever he approached,
and take refuge near the Union soldiers or sailors.
That he had cut Tighlman' s acquaintance was evident;
and his growls were canine rebukes of his traitorous
course.




DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI.


121


" Ponto" had grown a great favorite, and was invited
to various repasts upon the boats. He was exceedingly
sensitive, and left no doubt of the political complexion
of his mind.
If called Jeff. Davis, "Ponto" would howl most dolefully; and if styled Abe Lincoln, would bark joyously.
We had a Rebel banner on board, and whenever that
was shown him, he endeavored to tear it in pieces, and
lost his temper for an hour; but the sight of the Stars
and Stripes restored his amiability; induced him to walk
on his hind legs, and display all possible symptoms of
pleasure, and uncompromising allegiance to the Republic.
I do not suppose "Ponto" had more genius than many
of his canine brothers, but he had been carefully taught
his line of conduct, and, being an apt pupil, frequently
amused spectators not a little.
We had on the Flotilla at that time a Correspondent,
who at different periods had much amused the Bohemians by his unique and old-womanish ideas about every
thing, but especially about War. He seemed to have
adopted his nomadic pursuits of his own election; and
yet he was one of the most miserable of men.
He was always hunting battles, and still had never
seen one; but, invariably arriving at the scene after
the engagement had become a thing of the past, mourned
most bitterly over his untimely absence. The next time
there was a fight, he vowed he would witness it; but
somehow, before the battle took place, he would be
called off in another direction, and reappeared only to
curse his ill fortune.




122


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Nothing pleased, nothing satisfied him. He was a perpetual complainer and grumbler; and if he had had a
growlery, after the manner of John Jarndyce, he would
have been its continuous occupant.
He suffered like a domestic Prometheus; and, though
rather amiable by nature, swore like a steamboat-mate
on every expedition, and declared the times, the army,
the situation, the Administration, every thing, entirely
wrong.
His baggage was always lost; he was ever too late;
his head ached, or his boots were too small.
The World refused in any instance to go right with
him. The Fates were opposed to him; the Furies pursued him as they did Orestes, and not even his maledictions would appease, nor his misfortunes mollify them.
Poor devil of a journalist! he could never learn to be
a Bohemian, which generally means an ill-fated fellow, of
aesthetic and luxurious tastes, born out of place, and in
opposition to his circumstances-who assumes indifference to all things, and scoffs because he cannot smile.
It was not strange the Correspondent mentioned should
be disgusted with the life he sought to lead, and its thousand annoyances; but he certainly ought to have retired
from his profession, or played the devil-may-care part
that belonged to his rl6e.
The Bohemians talked of "buying him off;"'-he soon
after abandoned the tribe, poor fellow, and in sheer desperation became a Benedict-for his perpetual maunderings had so moved their compassion as to ruffle the selfcomposure necessary to the self-poise of a true disciple
of Zingara.




INAUGJRATION OF BATTERY-RUNNING.


123


CHAPTER XIX.
INAUGURATION OF BATTERY-RUNNING.
The Carondelet and Pittsburg Defying the Guns of Island No. 10.-Preparations
for the Hazardous Enterprise.-Scenes on the Flag-ship.-Departure of the
Pittsburg.-An Anxious Period.-The Artillery of the Rebels and of Heaven
-Thunder, Lightning, and Gunpowder.-Safe Passage of the Union Vessels.
THE first time the Rebel batteries were defied,.was in
April, 1862, at Island No. 10. The experiment was then
regarded as desperate; and they who made the attempt
were considered members of a forlorn hope.
The gunboat Carondelet took the lead in the enterprise, and the Pittsburg followed. I was quartered on
the flag-ship Benton at the time, and witnessed the novel
and exciting scene with no little interest.
Early on the morning of April 6, it was believed
on the Benton, from certain outward signs, that the dangerous experiment of running the blockade would be
tried again on the first dark night; and before evening
it was whispered that the Pittsburg was the gunboat
selected.
Commodore Foote sent for Captain Thompson, and
the two were closeted together for some time, while
the active movements, and the air of unusual bustle
on board the Pittsburg, corroborated the opinion already
entertained.
At eight o'clock, or four bells, as they say on ship9




124


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


board, the sky, which had, been clear and bright all day,
began to cloud; and as the evening advanced, the indications of a storm increased. Many were the meteoro.
logical prognostications; and it was noticed that the Commodore and Captains Phelps and Thompson anxiously
watched the sky, as if the nature of the night would
shape certain important events.
All the officers and crew gathered on deck after dark,
and debated about the weather until ten or eleven
o' clock.
Some thought it would be squally, and others clear;
and many under the former impression "turned in," to
use a nautical phrase, contending that the blockade
-would not be run during the night.
The correspondent of The Tribune concluded to re-,main up, for the night was very warm, and the atmo-,sphere so close below that sleep to him was a matter
certainly not to be dreamed of.
I felt an interest in the coming tempest, if there was
'to be one; and so I paced the deck and smoked, until
"long after midnight.
Between one and two o'clock it was evident we would
be favored with a storm, from the augmented darkness,
thunder, and lightning.
About that time, Captain Phelps and Commodore Foote
appeared on deck, and directed their attention especially
to the Pittsburg, lying to the right of us against the
Missouri shore. The Pittsburg looked ready for action,
and I then knew the blockade was to be run before
dawn..
'Ten minutes after two, the Pittsburg moved out into




INAUGURATION OF BATTERY-RUNNING.


125


the stream so quietly that no one who had not been on
the watch would have noticed her.
On the side she would expose to the Tennessee shore,
on her downward passage, was a barge loaded with
bales of hay, entirely covering her casemates, and designed, of course, to protect her from the Rebel batteries.
She had not moved a hundred yards before it appeared
the crew of the Benton had been apprised of what was
on the tapis.
Some thirty or forty sleepy-looking fellows came on
deck, and turned their optics-from which all drowsiness was soon dispelled by the interest felt in the occasion-towards the gunboat, leisurely moving down the
stream.
"There she goes!"   That's the Pittsburg!"  "Good
luck to the craft!" were heard, in low tones of voice;
and all eyes were strained through the darkness, which
was dispelled every few seconds by the lurid lightning.
Much fear was entertained for the Pittsburg's success-far more than had been for the Carondelet-because
it was believed the Rebels had profited by their first experience, were more on the alert, and had probably
depressed their guns, which they had shot over the
latter, as she passed within musket's reach of their roaring mouths.
Hundreds of hearts beat anxiously as the Pittsburg
moved placidly down-stream; no light and no living
thing visible on board, even when the lightning danced,
and played, and blazed, over all the sky.
It was an impressive spectacle, to witness the solitary




126


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


and gallant gunboat gliding down the broad river, amid
the tempestuous and howling night.
"What would be the fate of the brave souls on
"board?" occurred to many minds; but no one could
answer the question.
The Pittsburg passed the first battery, which had
been spiked a few nights before, and was consequently
hushed, and was opposite the second, when a volley
of musketry and a roar of cannon greeted her.
The artificial thunder made numerous hearts leap and
pulses throb; but the sable craft seemed to regard it
not, keeping on as before, mysteriously and silently.
The third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth batteries were passed, and all the shore guns, and those
from the island opened on her with terrible din. But
we saw by the glare of the skies that she was neither
crippled nor sunk.   Many thanks were offered, and
devout wishes shaped themselves into prayers for the
success of the gallant vessel.
In twenty minutes after starting, she was hidden from
view by the bend in the river; but the firing continued,
and her signal-guns, anxiously listened for, were not heard.
Not a few feared she was lost; but the majority declared she must be safe, and the sailors offered large bets
of rum on the successful issue of the enterprise.
About three o'clock we thought we heard the Pittsburg's signal-guns; but no one could be sure, for the
thunder and the enemy's batteries, and the echoes so
mingled that no one could distinguish any of the sounds
with accuracy.
Captain Phelps and a number of the officers remained




INAUGURATION OF BATTERY-RUNNING.        127
on deck until four o'clock, when the enemy still fired at
intervals, and the night had grown darker, and the
tempest was falling with greater fury. They could see and
learn nothing new; but, hoping for the best, they went
below, and I with them, in dripping garments, though
not to sleep, into the oven of a cabin.
The anxiety continued until after breakfast, when we
learned the Pittsburg had gotten through safely; that
four transports and two barges had reached New Madrid
by means of the canal, and would probably be enabled
to convey General Pope's forces across the river whenever he desired.




128


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER XX.
SURRENDER OF ISLAND NO. X.
A Mysterious Vessel astern.-Preparations for Battle on the Benton.-Proposition for the Enemy to Surrender.-Unconditional Terms asked.-The
Rebel Prisoners and their Opinions.-Curious Scene.-Feminine Accompaniments to a Siege.
AFTER the running of the Rebel batteries of Island
No. 10, and the passage through the canal to New
Madrid, Mo., of the transports and barges mentioned
in the last chapter, great interest was felt, especially on
the afternoon of Monday, April 7, to hear from General
Pope, and to learn the progress of affairs in and about
the latter place.
Every one was waiting with anxiety for the next turn
in events; and while the officers and men were on the
deck of the Benton, a little before nine o'clock they discovered a strange vessel turning the point in the river
below, and coming up astern of the flagship.
No one could imagine what she was or her purpose,
and all the ship's glasses could not solve the question.
Probably it was a Rebel gunboat that had run Pope's
blockade, or perhaps the Floating Battery, of which we
had heard so much, under tow of a Secession transport.
That there was an opportunity for a fight, every one
believed. The gunners were called; the fifty-pound
rifled Dahlgrens at the stern were run out, and every
preparation made for action.




SURRENDER OF ISLAND No. X.


129


All on board the.Benton were on the qui vive, and
orders were given to reserve fire until the supposed
enemy had come within a mile's distance.
In less than a quarter of an hour after the boat had
been discovered, she was heard to give four sharp, shrill
whistles; and then the prospect of an engagement was
materially decreased.
It was probably a friendly steamer, or it might be a
Rebel fraud to deceive the Benton.
The gunners still held their position, while the flagship
answered the signal, and along the shore and among the
woods the echoes responded to the scream of the escaping
steam.
The Commodore's tug was ordered to drop down, and
determine, if possible, the mission of the stranger; and
Lieutenant Bishop stepped into the Dauntless, and
steamed away into the shadows of the night.
In less than half an hour the tug returned, and with
her two young Rebel Lieutenants under a flag of truce,
with the information that they wished to confer with
the Commodore.
They were at once escorted to the cabin, and proved
to be Lieutenants George S. Martin and E. S. McDowell,
empowered to propose the surrender of the Island on
certain conditions.
The Commodore replied mildly, but firmly, that it was
unnecessary to name the conditions, as he could listen to
no proposition based upon conditions; that an absolutely
unconditional surrender was the sole thing possible.
The young Lieutenants seemed in excellent spirits, and
augmented them at the request of Lieutenant Bishop,




130


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


after leaving the Commodore's presence, by imbibing an
artificial quantity. They said they were unable to make
reply to the Commodore's demand without consulting
their principal, Captain W. Y. C. Humes, the commander of the Island.
They departed, therefore, in company with Captain
Phelps of the Benton, for the De Soto, which had
brought them up, and still lay half a mile astern, and
returned a little after midnight to give us the almost
unnecessary intelligence that they had accepted the flag
officer's terms-an unconditional surrender.
In regard to the shore batteries, they stated they could
say nothing, as they had no command over that part of
the fortifications, and were ignorant of the officer in
charge of the forces there.
From the fact of the proposition of surrender coming
through two Lieutenants, it was believed that the greater
part of the Rebel forces, with the chief officers, had
already made their exodus-a surmise that subsequent
circumstances proved entirely correct.
At daylight a number of white flags were seen flying
from the Island, and no person could be discovered along
the Kentucky and Tennessee shore.
The gunboats St. Louis and Mound City, and one or
two of the transports, went down about seven in the
morning; and, soon after, a tug from the Benton steamed
over to the shore batteries with Captain Phelps of the
flagship, one or two other officers, and myself.
On the Island there were about three hundred prisoners, mostly Tennesseeans-the command of Captain.Humes, who had surrendered to Commodore Foote.




SURRENDER OF ISLAND No. X.


131


They were all artillerists, and their officers generally
quite young men,
I had several hours' conversation with the captives, and
from them learned the sentiments they held in regard to
the War. They were all bitterly opposed to their principal commanders; said they had had different leaders
every day or two; and that they had been most unexpectedly deserted by the forces on the main land.
The privates universally expressed themselves weary
and disgusted with the War; and gave it as their opinion
that the Rebellion was well-nigh crushed; that the South
could not carry it on but a month or two longer, and that
it must sink beneath its own weight.
How much they were mistaken!
They said if they were released, they would not serve
in the ranks again; that they had been cruelly deceived
by their leaders, and that the Rebellion had been undertaken by a few demagogues and unprincipled parties for
the purpose of self-aggrandizement.
They appeared extremely well satisfied with their new
position, and were the most cheerful prisoners I remember to have seen.
The privates were healthful and good-looking men, for
the most part, and possessed of more than the average
degree of intelligence found among the common people
of the South.   They were comfortably though poorly
clad, and said they had an abundance of food, but had not
received a dollar in payment for their services during the
time-a period of some six months-that had expired
since their enlistment.
The officers generally held-at least expressed-very




132


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


different opinions; and, though cautious, manifested an
earnest attachment to the cause of the Rebellion, and
declared they were determined to adhere to it while there
was the least hope of success.
They acknowledged they did not believe the stories, so
extensively circulated by the Southern newspapers-that
the North designed to abolitionize the Slave States (the
North had no such intentions then), or plunder their
homes; or ravish their wives and sisters; or that the
Yankees were a horde of barbarians and blood-thirsty
ruffians; or any of the absurd twaddle the editors published, but knew to be utterly false.
All such statements, the officers confessed, were designed to influence the common people, and render them
devoted to the cause they had espoused.
The officers furthermore remarked that the South had
long been jealous of the steadily augmenting power of
the North, and believed that the latter was encroaching
upon the Slave States, and was likely to extinguish the
peculiar institution by restricting it to certain limits,
which must insure its ultimate destruction.
The election of a sectional candidate to the Presidency
had rendered the South universally restless; for they
regarded it as the inception of an open contest against
Slavery, and that they could not remain in the Union
without danger to their servile property.
They had grown up with and among slaves, and while
they did not ask the North to admire Slavery, they
claimed for themselves certain rights under the Constitution, which they thought they could not retain if they
waited until the expiration of Lincoln's term of office.




SURRENDER OF ISLAND No. X.


133


They were attached to Slavery on account of the benefits they believed it conferred, both on the black and
white race % and they were convinced the great agricultural interests of their section could not be served without
compulsory labor.
They held the opinion that there was an irrepressible
conflict between the Free and Slave States, as had been
first announced by William H. Seward, and that the disposition of the North to interfere with the local institutions of the South, would necessarily result in war; and
that for this reason they desired a separation.
They greatly desired peace; but the present struggle
had destroyed all hope of it, and had rendered the restoration of the Union an absolute impossibility.
Of course, such arguments, if they deserved the name,
are old and threadbare, and have been refuted again and
again; and I only give them as specimens of the sentiments and conversation of the Rebel officers at that time.
At one of the encampments on the Tennessee River,
about twenty well-dressed and quite comely women were
discovered as sole occupants of the place.
They said they were friends of the officers, who had left
their baggage in their charge until they met again.
The women were from Memphis, and it required no
very penetrating optics to determine.their position and
calling. They belonged, of course, to the Lorette school,
and had endeavored, doubtless, to assuage the severity
of the campaign by the tenderness of their devotion and
the warmth of their attachment.
Some of them were quite pretty and very young, and




134


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


appeared to regard the surrender of the Island and the
flight of their lovers as a pleasant jest; and seemed to
enjoy it vastly.
Quite cosmopolitan in character, they were unquestionably as willing to extend their gentle favors to the National officers as to their late Rebel protectors; knowing
that Love makes friends of enemies, and by the alkahest
of its subtile chemistry melts all distinctions in a common
crucible.
*-           *             *             *
A day or two after the surrender of the Island proper,
General Pope followed and captured about twenty-six
hundred of the retreating Rebels that had been doing
duty at the shore batteries, which furnished the main
strength of the position.
Pope had crossed the river, and, by a skillful disposition of the two gunboats and his forcef, so completely
cut off the insurgents, with the assistance of the high
waters on the shore opposite New Madrid, that they surrendered at discretion, without the loss of a single life on
our side by the casualties of battle.




SHILOH.


135


CHAPTER XXI.
SHILOH.
Desperate Determination of the South.-Confidence of the Enemy.-Cause of
the Early Action.-The First Day's Fighting.-Fearful Struggle.-Intensity
of the Excitement.-Recklessness of Life.-Panic-stricken Regiments.Arrival of General Buell.-The Second Day's Fighting.-Defeat of the Foe.
THE Union forces, on the clear, pleasant, balmy Saturday night of April 5, 1862, when they sought their
tents to rest, had little thought the quiet of the beautiful
Sabbath would be marred by the roar of cannon, the
rattle of musketry, the hoarse battle-cry, the clash of
resounding arms.
They were taken at disadvantage; but they soon
rallied, and waged the fierce battle as if they had been
looking for its coming at the very hour.
It was notorious among the enemy, that General Buell
was marching rapidly to join his force with that of
General Grant. He had been anxiously expected for
several days; and to drive back and inflict a heavy and
fatal blow upon Grant, before his allies could come to his
assistance, was the best of policy, if not a military
necessity.
The Rebels numbered over one hundred and twenty
thousand of their choicest troops. Kentucky, Tennessee,
Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, and Texas
had sent their best soldiers to fight the decisive battle;
and one hundred and sixty-two regiments had gone forth




136


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


from the South to annihilate the "barbarous Yankees,"
and establish for Secession a prestige and glory that
future time should not destroy or dim.
No one who had not traveled, during 1862, in the
Slave States, could have any idea of how the South
moved Heaven and Earth to render a great victory on
the Tennessee absolutely certain. The South contributed
her strongest weapons and her best men to the purpose.
Every disloyal community had been drafted. No person capable of bearing arms was permitted to remain at
home.
Old and young alike shouldered their musket, or rifle,
or shot-gun, and departed for the scene of action.
The most inflammatory appeals were made.     When
appeals failed, threats were used; and when threats
were insufficient, violence was employed.
Every Southern woman exercised her influence in the
cause of the Rebellion; bade her husband, brother,
father, lover, friend, make another struggle fqr his fireside and country, and victory would reward his efforts.
The power of the North would be broken; the foreign
hirelings of the tyrant Lincoln would be expelled forever from the "sacred soil," and future generations
would rise and call him blessed who flew to his country's succor in the hour of her extremest need.
The best of Southern Generals were summoned from
every quarter to conduct the great battles, to lend their
counsels, and employ their strong arms in the service of
Secessia, and make a last and desperate effort for the
independence of the "Confederacy."
Manassas was evacuated that the best soldiers on the




SHILOH.


137


Potomac might contribute to the army on the Tennessee.
Pensacola was abandoned that the experienced artillerists of the South might depart for Corinth.
Island No. 10 was weakened that the regiments there
assembled might give their combined strength to the
forlorn hope.
A mighty army had taken its stand on the shores
of a river which was to be made immortal by the overthrow of the North and the triumphant success of the
South.
Beauregard, and Johnston, and Polk, and Bragg, and
Jackson, and Breckinridge, had united in their counsels,
and taken great oaths to do or die in the cause of Slavery,
and for the extinction of Freedom in the model Republic.
When the battle was forced upon us, on Sunday,
April 6, 1862, the enemy very far outnumbered us, and
was confident of success. He had been assured he
could not be defeated. He had confidence in his leaders,
and he had sworn, as Hannibal had sworn in his early
youth, to conquer or to die-a rhetorical phrase very
popular in the South, and most frequently employed
when death seems at the greatest distance.
The engagement was brought on by a body of the
Union infantry who were ordered to capture a troop of
some three hundred Rebel cavalry, who had for several
days greatly harassed our army.
The cavalry was supposed to be at a certain point beyond our lines, and the infantry marched on expecting
to surprise them, but were surprised, as was General




138


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Grant's entire command, who had no idea of a general
engagement.
Beauregard had had for two weeks, it is said, a number of spies in our camp, and was as fully informed of
our plans, opinions, and expectations as if he had been
the confidential friend and adviser of the Commander-inChief. He had employed the cavalry as a decoy, and
was aware our army was entirely unprepared for an
engagement.
In that condition, at that most critical and unfortunate
hour, the great body of the Confederate army had advanced within range, and suddenly opened a terrible fire
of musketry upon General Prentiss's Division, throwing
the left wing into great confusion; at the same time pouring into our encampment a perfect storm of canister,
grape, and shell, causing terrible destruction.
For some minutes much disorder prevailed, and the
officers feared at first that a panic would seize the soldiers; but the coolness and bravery of the principal
commanders prevented such a disaster.
A line of battle was speedily formed, amid the shower
of shot and the deafening roar of Rebel artillery, and a
stout resistance made.
At that juncture, the fire of the Rebels for a few moments diminished, but was soon reopened as fiercely as
ever upon the left and center of General Sherman's division, which was driven back with great loss, exposing
our extreme left, under General McClernand, to its destructive sweep.
After ten minutes, our whole army was formed in line,
and our brave soldiers, extending three miles, began to




SHILOH.


return the fire of the foe with steady and continuous volleys of musketry, sending many a Rebel, who had expected another Manassas, to his eternal rest.
During a period of four hours the deadly strife continued; the enemy displaying a degree of obstinate courage he had never before shown; and fighting with a
desperate determination that compelled our forces to recede gradually before him.
The generalship on the part of the "Confederates" was
consummate-far exceeding ours, and deserving, from a
military point of view, of the highest admiration.
When we attacked a certain point, we met with resistance from a new quarter; when we went to the right, we
were attacked from the left; when we advanced to the
center, a deadly fire was opened on us from the right;
and so we were perpetually deceived by the skill and
strategy of our foes.
Constant efforts were made to flank our regiments, and
in many instances the Rebels narrowly escaped success;
so much so was this the case, that we were again and
again put upon the defensive, when the offensive was the
need of the hour.
By that time the enemy had occupied a large portion
of the ground on which we had been encamped when
the action began; and we were still falling back before
the "Confederates," who seemed to be fighting with
more and more determination, and who were doubtless
cheered and encouraged by their early success.
The Union center evinced unmistakable symptoms of
giving way, for it was sorely pressed, and the fortunes
of the day appeared to be against us, when General Hurl10




140


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


but's division was ordered to its support. The division
moved in good time, and did good service.
Hotter and hotter grew the contest; fiercer and fiercer
the struggle.
Each man fought as if success or defeat depended on
his own right arm; and charge after charge was made on
the Rebels to regain the ground we had lost.
They stood firm as a rock; and though our artillery
often swept down their ranks, and left fearful gaps in
their columns, they manifested no trepidation, nor did
they waver for a moment.
The living supplied the place of the dead. The musket
that had fallen from a lifeless hand was seized at once, and
the horrid strife swept on as before. The force of the
enemy appeared increasing, and where the greatest
havoc was made, there the strongest opposition was
shown.
Hand-to-hand contests were innumerable. Every struggle was for life.
Quarter was asked on neither side, and the ground
drank up the blood of hundreds of brave fellows every
hour.
Men lost their semblance of humanity, and the spirit
of the demon shone in their faces.
There was but one desire, and that was to destroy.
There was little shouting. The warriors were too much
in earnest. They set their teeth firm, and strained their
every n.erve to its utmost tension.
Death lost all its terrors, and men seemed to feast upon
the sight of blood.
The light of the sun was obscured by the clouds of sul



SHILOH.


141


phurous smoke, and the ground became moist and slippery with human gore.
The atmosphere trembled with the shock of the armies,
and the earth shook with the tramp of the thousands and
tens of thousands of warring foes.
The balance of victory ever varied. It now inclined to
this side, and now to that. Here the Unionists gained an
advantage; there the "Confederates."
Advance was followed by retreat; success by repulse.
At this point we drove the enemy back, but were
driven back in return. S'iccess was always shifting, but
never settled.
Hope and fear, joy and sorrow, seized the soul by turns,
and every hour held a month of emotions.
All consciousness of time ceased; all thought of the
Future, all recollection of the Past. Every thing was absorbed in the sanguinary Present, and external Nature
assumed the hue of blood.
Men glared at each other as at wild beasts; and, when
a shell burst with fatal effect among a crowd of the advancing foe, and arms, legs, and heads were torn off, a
grim smile of pleasure lighted up the smoke-begrimed
faces of the transformed beings who witnessed the catastrophe.
Soldiers were wounded and knew it not, so intense was
their excitement, and often a mortal hurt was announced
to the victim only by the cessation of vitality.
Men with knitted brows and flushed cheeks fought
madly over ridges, along ravines, and up steep ascents,
with blood and perspiration streaming down their faces.
Men with shattered fingers changed their muskets to




142


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


their left hands, and still fired their pieces as best they
could.
Everywhere was mad excitement; everywhere was
horror. Commanders galloped wildly to the front of their
regiments, and cheered them on, using their sabers on
each and every foe, and urging their spirited steeds where
ever the troops were falling back, careless of their own
life, as if they had a million souls to spare.
Captains, majors, colonels, and generals fought like
private soldiers, and it was not uncommon to see a fieldofficer firing a musket or charging with his revolver
upon the advancing foe.
There was no pause in the battle. The roar of the
strife was ever heard. The artillery bellowed and thundered, and the dreadful echoes went sweeping down
the river, and the paths were filled with the dying and
the dead.
The sound was deafening, the tumult indescribable.
No life was worth a farthing; for he who lifted his
musket this moment fell the next, a stiffened corpse.
Yonder a fresh regiment rushed bravely forward, and
ere they had gone twenty yards, a charge of grape sent
the foremost men bleeding to the earth.
Whole heaps of corpses lay upon the murmuring
ground, and fixed eyes stared at the surrounding strife,
with the awful stare of death.
Wild mockery! dreadful vision! But who cared?
Death was not to be thought of, but to be met with
indifference, come when it might.
Death was in the air, and bloomed like a poison-plant
on every foot of soil.




SHILOH.


143


During Sunday afternoon, eleven or twelve of the
Union regiments, after fighting bravely for two hours,
were thrown into disorder by a number of shells which
burst above and around them; and at the same moment
a Rebel battery opened upon them, at a distance of half
a mile, with terrible devastation.
They could not endure the murderous fire.   They
turned and fled, and several of their officers endeavored
in vain to rally them. They were utterly panic-stricken
at first, and they would have run if the Infernal Pit had
opened before their hurrying feet.
No appeal, no censure, affected them. Many threw
away their arms, and sped as a country school-boy,
who thinks he has seen a ghost in the village churchyard.
A number of flying soldiers, having recovered from
their alarm and regained their pride, returned to their
posts, fighting more bravely than before, to wipe out
the stain; but the greater part ran beyond the reach
of the human voice, even crossing the river and going
to Savannah.
As the sun was sinking towards the west, General
Buell's column, so anxiously expected, so needful in
the great emergency, appeared on the opposite side of
the river, and the enemy redoubled his efforts to insure
our defeat; knowing that on the morrow our numbers
would nearly equal his own; and that he must put
the last remnant of strength into the contest.
The Rebels did so. They summoned a large portion
of their reserve,t and fell with unexampled fury upon
our ranks, shouting like madmen, and striving in every




144


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


possible way to extend the panic with which the unfortunate twelve regiments had been seized.
Every one of their cannons seemed at play; every
musket performing its natural office. The resources of
their generals were exhausted. They told their troops
the condition of affairs; that that was the golden opportunity; that all depended upon winning a victory
"before the darkness should compel a suspension of hostilities.
The Rebels swept like an avalanche upon the loyal
troops, and the shock had its effect.
Our soldiers wavered, for they were nearly exhausted
with the long, hard fight, and the enemy's fresh forces
gave them the advantage.
Here was a crisis, and General Grant rode along the
whole line, amid a storm of balls, and encouraged the
men, and assured them that if they held out until the
next morning, Buell, with his thousands, would have
crossed the river.
His brief remarks added courage to many a faint heart,
and strength to many a tired arm; and our ranks fought
with a desperate and invincible spirit.
Still they could hardly cope with the overpowering
force of the Rebels, until Colonel Webster, chief of
General Grant's staff, planted several batteries, and
brought them to bear directly upon the enemy's right;
and about the same time, the gunboats Lexington and
Taylor, so near were the contending armies to the bank,
opened a heavy fire upon the advancing Rebels.
The foe endeavored heroically to endure that terrible
double fire; but his columns had not the fortitude to




SHILOH.


145


stand and be mowed down by hundreds. They began
to waver and to break.
Beauregard and Johnston attempted to hold their troops
in position, and they exposed themselves most recklessly
to prevent them from falling back, but to no purpose.
Every discharge of the batteries, every roar of death from
the gunboats, sent the Rebel regiments reeling to the
grave; and in less than half an hour they moved backward, leaving us in possession of all the ground we had
occupied in the morning.
In this part of the action, General Albert Sydney Johnston fell, and Beauregard was very slightly wounded in
the left arm.
During the night, General Nelson's division of Buell's
army reached the battle-field, and early in the morning
the engagement was renewed, Nelson occupying the left,
and General Wallace the right.
Nelson and Wallace opened upon the enemy with a
heavy fire, and caused him to fall back. For several
hours the victory seemed to be ours; but about half-past
ten o' clock the Rebels, who must have been re-enforced,
made a series of gallant charges, and caused our troops to
retire for a quarter of a mile, pouring most fearful volleys
of musketry into our ranks.
Again the prospect looked dark, and thousands of
hearts felt alarmed, not for themselves, but for the fortunes of the great battle on which so much dependedperhaps the salvation of the Republic, and the happiness
of unborn generations.
General Buell had crossed the river below the point




146


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


where Nelson had, and at this juncture came up with
fresh troops, and flanked the enemy, and captured a
number of pieces of artillery.
The Rebels here made a terrible charge to recover their
loss, but they were unsuccessful.
They wavered and were driven back-rallied, and
made a final attempt, but were repulsed; Buell' s forces
meeting and engaging them in a splendid manner.
Our army saw their advantage, and followed it up in
magnificent style; and from that hour the Rebels seemed
to have lost faith in themselves.
They could not be rallied, though their commanders
hallooed themselves hoarse. They could not keep their
ground, and they slowly retired, with their faces still to
the Unionists, and fighting, though somewhat languidly.
Their hope and energy appeared to diminish steadily,
and they soon gave evidence of demoralization, and,
before six o' cJock in the evening, retreated with celerity,
pursued towards Corinth by six thousand of our cavalry.




OFF FORT PILLOW.


CHAPTER XXII.
OFF FORT PILLOW.
Ravages of the Musquitos.-Their Secession Proclivities. —Battles between the
Insects and Correspondents.-Anecdote of General Pope.-Discovery of an
unexpected Official.
THE countless musquitos in the vicinity of Fort Pillow, during the month of April, 1862, must have had
strong Secession sympathies; they certainly were bitter
enemies of the Nationalists, and phlebotomized them
without mercy.    They never were so numerous and
venomous before at that season of the year, in that latitude, and they bled our soldiers and sailors as perseveringly as did ever Dr. Sangrado his system-murdered
patients.
Those annoying insects were always vigilant, and had
the honor of extracting the earliest sanguinary fluid
during the bombardment.
They had no fear of gunboats or mortars, artillery or
bayonets. They recognized no distinction in rank, attacking Commodores and Captains, Bohemians and Brigadiers alike.
One hundred did I slay, even while writing half a
dozen lines; and yet there were thousands to supply
their places. They seemed as anxious to die as the Rebels pretend to be.
The difference between them was, they did die, and




148


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


the Rebels did not-when they could help it. Mortifying
reflection to vain-glorious Man! Musquitos are braver
than the three hundred devoted Lacedaemonians who
fought and fell beneath the shade of Xerxes' arrows.
Sleep was often an impossibility, on the Fleet or in
camp; and a number of the Bohemians rose one morning
with their optics so nearly closed, from the attack of the
musquitos, that the poor fellows would have been entirely excusable if they had taken what, in bar-room
parlance, is classically called, an eye-opener.
Confound the musquitos! I used to exclaim every minute. They were the pests of the South, and of summer,
and, like the Thane of Cawdor, did murder sleep!
Every thing was very dull about Pillow the first two
or three weeks, with the exception of the constant battles
between the Bohemians and the musquitos; the latter
having declared unrelenting and ceaseless war against the
knights of the pen.
The strife went on without intermission, day and night;
the musquitos relieving each other punctually, and
mounting guard every five seconds.
We had no bars on the fleet (and none in the Mississippi, for the matter of that), and we were therefore
victims to the remorseless cruelty of the venomous insects
at all times and in all places.
The Correspondents, as I have said, often arose in
the morning with their visuals so swelled, from the bites
of the winged pests, that they looked as if they had been
taking a few first lessons in the "noble and manly art
of self-defense," from the Tipton Slasher or the Benicia
Boy.




OFF FORT PILLOW.


149


I pitied the poor fellows, but the fact that my own
sufferings were even greater than theirs, prevented that
complete exercise of commiseration which an intact
epidermis would have insured.
The musquitos in that vicinity must have been of the
true Secession order, being opposed-as the Richmond
papers used to be-to reading and writing; believing
it conducive to error and disobedience.
We never took up a book or commenced any manuscript but the musquitos attacked us in force, and showed
the most desperate determination to drive us from our
labor or our lore.
The reason of this was, I conjecture, that the musquitos hated writing because they themselves could not
write, and they therefore made their mark-most effectually, too, as my crimson-spotted hands and face fully
and convincingly and painfully attested.
I heard, while at Pillow, an anecdote of General Pope
-an officer of ability, but sometimes a very unpleasant
man, with a pompous and hectoring manner-which will
bear repetition. While at his head-quarters, the General
was approached by a rather small, plain-looking, and entirely unassuming man, in citizen's attire, with the question: " Are you General Pope, sir?"
"That is my name," was the answer, in rather a
repelling tone.
"' I would like to see you, then, on a matter of business."
' Call on my Adjutant, sir. He will arrange any
"business you may have."




150


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


" But I wish to have a personal conversation with
you.'
" See my Adjutant," in an authoritative voice.
"But-"
" Did I not tell you to see my Adjutant? Trouble me
no more, sir;" and Pope was about walking away.
"My name is Scott, General," quietly remarked the
small, plain man.
"Confound you! What do I care," thundered Pope,
in a rising passion, "if your name is Scott, or Jones, or
Jenkins, or Snooks, for the matter of that? See my
Adjutant, I tell you, fellow! Leave my presence!"
"I am," continued the quiet man, in his quiet way,
" the Assistant Secretary of War, and-"
What a revolution those simple words made in the
General's appearance and manner!
His angry, haughty, domineering air was dispelled in
a moment, and a flush of confusion passed over his
altered face.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Scott, I had no idea whom I
was addressing. Pray be seated; I shall be happy to
grant you an interview at any time."
Possibly a very close observer might have seen a faint,
half-contemptuous smile on the Secretary's lips; though
he said nothing, but began to unfold his business without comment.
After that unique interview, Pope and the Assistant
Secretary were very frequently together, arid I venture
to say the latter had no reason subsequently to complain
of the General's rudeness.




LIFE ON THE FLOTILLA.


151


CHAPTER      XXIII.
LIFE ON THE FLOTILLA.
A Profane Captain.-Piety of Commodore Foote.-Interruption of Religious
Service.-Easter Sunday on the Flag-ship.-Horrible Persecutions of Unionists
in Tennessee and Arkansas.-A Loyal Man Crucified.-Cold-Blooded Murders in the South.
DIVINE Service was held upon the Flotilla, off Fort
Pillow, every Sabbath, and even some of the transports
observed the day, though after a rather secular fashion.
An old steamboat Captain, for many years engaged in
the Cincinnati and Southern trade, was in the habit of
going about the vessel every morning, and saying to his
men: "D —      your sinful souls, I want you to come to
prayers to-day, by -;" and, after services, adding to
delinquents: "Why the -       and -    weren't you on
hand to-day to hear the Bible read   You'll go to -
surely, and, -   you, you ought to, too, by -."
It is deeply to be regretted that that man's external
piety did not improve his mode of exhortation; but
this was one of the countless instances in which a timehonored custom was observed after the spirit that might
have made it sacred had departed.
Quite different from the profane steamboat Captain was
Commodore Foote, who seemed to regard the observation of Sunday, when it was at all possible, as quite essential to the discipline of his officers and men.




152


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


He read the Scriptures regularly and punctually on
the first day of every week, and summoned the entire
crew of the Benton to his religious lectures.
Most of the sailors were addicted to falling asleep, and
frequently snored so loud as to disturb the solemnity of
the occasion. The Commodore took no notice of their
drowsiness, believing, perhaps, with some of the theological metaphysicians, that when rapt in slumber they
could commit no sin.
It certainly is a virtue of many religious exercises, that,
if they do not convince, they cause sleep, and thus give
rest to the body, though they furnish no consolation to
the soul. Goldsmith's familiar line might, I am sorry to
say, often be so travestied as to read with truth:
And those who went to pray remained to sleep.
The Commodore was not so painfully pious as to allow
Sunday to interfere with the obligations of his secular
position.
While reading, at Island No. 10, this extract from the
Epistle of Paul to the Ephesians:
" Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in
heavenly places in Christ. According as He hath chosen
us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we
should be holy, and without blame before Him in love;
having predestinated us unto the adoption of children
by Jesus Christ."
At this moment the officer of the deck reported a suspicious craft coming round the head of the Island, whereupon the Commodore ordered the stern guns to be run




LIFE ON THE FLOTILLA.


153


out, and closed the Sacred Volume and the service at
once, remarking that the reading would be continued on
a more auspicious occasion.
Each Sunday the Commodore read from the sixtyfourth Psalm, in a deeply impressive manner:
"They encourage themselves in an evil matter: they
commune of laying snares privily; they say, Who shall
see them?
"They search out iniquities; they accomplish a diligent search: both the inward thought of every one of
them, and the heart, is deep.
"But God shall shoot at them with an arrow; suddenly shall they be wounded."
"Doubtless the Commodore referred to the Rebels; but,
as if not satisfied with that apt quotation, he read these
even more appropriate lines:
"They are all gone out of the way, they are together
become unprofitable; there is none that doeth good, no,
not one.
"Their throat is an open sepulchre; with their tongues
they have used deceit; the poison of asps is under their
lips: whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness:
"Their feet are swift to shed blood:
"Destruction and misery are in their ways: And the
way of peace have they not known: there is no fear of
God before their eyes."
So pertinent were these quotations that the sailors did
not sleep, or even nod, during the reading, which was
impressive and eloquent, from the earnest voice, the
serene face, and the sincere manner of the gallant Com



154


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


modore, who was, in the best sense, a gentleman and a
true Christian.
Several of us went up the river, toward the latter part
of April, in a skiff, a short distance, to the half-submerged
house of a Union family named Armstrong, residing on
the Tennessee shore.  They were from Ohio, but had
lived in Lauderdale County for four or five years, and
were far more intelligent and civilized than the class that
usually vegetates along the banks of the Mississippi from
Cairo to Vicksburg.
We had a long conversation with the family, who had
had an excellent opportunity to witness the progress of
the Rebellion in Tennessee, and they gave a fearful account of the outrages that had been practiced in the
name of the Rebel Government.
Immediately after the State was declared, in spite of
the expressed opposition of the people, out of the Union,
armed bands of marauders and outlaws, generally from
Shelby County, began to abuse and rob the citizens of
Western Tennessee.
They impressed all the men they could find into the
Rebel service, upon pain of death; and the family assured
me a number of loyal citizens were hanged for no other
reason than for their attachment to the Union.
Mrs. Armstrong says she knew six men who were executed; and that in one instance a poor fellow who had
been coerced into the Secession army, and had twice
deserted, was captured, carried off in the night, and
actually crucified; spikes being driven through his hands
and feet; thus fastening him to a tree, and leaving him to
a lingering and horrible death.




LIFE ON THE FLOTILLA.


155


The unfortunate victim was gagged, that his cries might
not call any one to his assistance or relief; and nearly a
week had elapsed before he was discovered. He was
still alive, but hunger, exposure, and pain had so exhausted him, that, though removed to the house of a
neighbor, and carefully nursed, he died the second day
after his release.
In addition to that, men suspected of disaffection were
assassinated by outlaws so disguised as to be irrecognizable; and it was quite common for Unionists to be called
up at the dead hour of night, and shot when they went
to the window or door to determine the nature of the
summons.
In Arkansas, too, in Mississippi, Crittenden, and other
river counties, robbery, tarring and feathering,, assassinations, and hanging were among the favorite amusements
of the inhabitants of that highly enlightened State.
The extent of the outrages perpetrated in Secessia
against Union men will never be known, and hundreds
of persons have mysteriously disappeared whose fate
will never be explained, but who were doubtlessly removed through violent means by the advocates of the
Rebellion.
11




156


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER XXIV.
FEATURES OF SECESSIA.
Melancholy Suicide of a Slave:-Triumph of the American Eagle.-Reminiscence
of John A. Murrell-His Decease a Loss to the Secession Cause.
WHILE lying off Fort Pillow, a Union man, who had
been driven from Memphis some months before, told me
of a sad tragedy that had occurred in the city while he
was there. A finely formed and rather intelligent mulatto
had been taken to Memphis from Hardaman County,
having been torn, against his most urgent entreaties and
earnest prayers, from his family, to be sold to some
Louisiana or Texas planter. The poor fellow, who
seemed so overcome with grief as to be unconscious of
externals, was placed upon the block, and knocked down
to a cotton planter residing near Galveston.
After the sale had been made, and the papers signed,
the mulatto seemed, for the first time, to fully realize his
situation. Having been ordered to follow his new master,
he walked quietly along until he was separated from the
crowd, when he suddenly drew a pistol, concealed about
his person, and blew out his brains.
The slave could not endure the idea of separation from
his family, and preferred death to eternal divorce. No
one was shocked; no one pitied him, or cared for the
cause of the suicide. He was only a " nigger;" but to the
new owner he had repi'esented so much money, and




FEATURES OF SECESSIA.


157


therefore the planter was very mad, and swore excessively over the mutilated corpse of the slave.
An incident occurred on the transport John H. Dickey,
while I was on the Fleet, which would indicate that the
American Eagle-at least one of the family-understands
the importance of the position assigned him in this country as the symbol of Liberty and Independence.
The clerk of the boat had been presented with an eagle,
and kept him in the engine-room    below, tied to a
stanchion with a strong cord.
Soon after the bird was placed there, a coop full of
chickens, among them three game-cocks, was captured on
a deserted farm on the Arkansas shore, and removed to
the locality, and the roosters given the freedom of the deck.
The Secession cocks immediately began to strut about
in much the same style as the vulgar Gascons assuming to
represent the chivalry of the South, and crowed loudly
and frequently, greatly to the disgust of the eagle, which
eyed them very closely, and was evidently attempting to
exercise his patience to the fullest possible extent.
The cocks crowed louder and louder, and walked by
the bird as if they regarded him as an inferior.
The eagle began to lose his temper, and, eying the
feathery blusterers more and more keenly, commenced to
peck at his hempen fetters in an excited manner.
The roosters still crowed and strutted, and strutted and
crowed; and while they were at the hight of their pomposity, the eagle, which had released himself, flew at
them, and in less than a minute three headless roosters
lay bleeding amid a quantity of feathers.




158


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


The eagle had resented the indignity to himself, and the
insult offered him as a representative of the Nation, and
had taught the insolent Rebel cocks the lesson the grand
army of the North is daily teaching to Secessia.
The turn of the Gallic cock may come next. Let him
beware!
During my sojourn near Fort Pillow, I went several
times over to Arkansas, in the vicinity of Osceola, noted
as the place where the first Rebel flag was raised in the
State.
When we remember that Mississippi County, of which
Osceola is the capital, was part of the theater of John A.
Murrell's operations, we cannot but acknowledge a singular aptness in the elevation there of the symbol of treason.
No doubt the people of the State missed him greatly,
and believed he died before his time. He should have
lived to the days of the Jeff. Davis conspiracy, to receive
the honors of Secessia for his past deeds, and encouragement for the continuation of his career. He was fitted by
nature, education, habits, and association for a Secessionist, and had he not been one of the prominent Rebel
generals, he would have been at least a member of the
Cabinet at Richmond.
He could steal, burn, and murder as well as the best of
them; and in such threefold capacity lie the power and
prestige of the cause he would have been proud to advocate, and on which even he might have shed at least a ray
of damning glory.




MAYING IN ARKANSAS.


159


CHAPTER XXV..
MAYING IN ARKANSAS.
A Beautiful Day.-Prodigality of Nature.-Assault of Gnats and Sand-Flies.Ridiculous Adventures.-An Altered Physiognomy.-Saturnine Reflections.A New Jeremiad.
THE 1st of May was bright, balmy, and beautiful, but
so very dull on the Flotilla, that another Correspondent
and myself concluded to make a short excursion into the
region of Arkansas lying opposite Fort Pillow, by way
of celebrating the occasion.
The very idea of going Maying, as the school-girls
style it, in the Patagonia of America, was ludicrously
absurd; and for that reason we selected it as the field of
our vernal recreation.
The day, as I have said, was beautiful, and the violets
of the heavens, bloomed in their softest blueness, while
the gentle zephyrs crossed the Mississippi on wings of
balm. The birds sang more sweetly than was their wont
to the morning sunbeams; and the sunbeams bathed their
leafy homes in glory.
Delicious dreams were in the fragrant atmosphere, and
a spiritual voluptuousness sighed through the lovewhispering trees.
All that was very generous in Nature; but so much,esthetic wealth was entirely lost on Arkansas, where
Art is regarded as an Abolition innovation, and the Ideal
supposed to mean an unfair game of draw-poker.




160


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


What a sad waste, thought we, of Beauty, when we
saw the blue arch bending in charmfulness over the
swamps of the benighted State, and heard the choristers
of the groves chanting to the scattered woods and the
unsightly shore!
We crossed the river in a skiff, exhausting ourselves
and blistering our unhardened hands, and were soon a
short distance below Osceola, looking round for a spot of
dry land whereon to recline, and wondering what Nature
designed when she created Arkansas, which I have
always regarded as a mistake.
We found, after a long and diligent search, and no
little wading, a spot of green large enough for two
graves, and looking as if they were such.
A few sickly violets grew among the tufts of grass, and
the poor little flowers looked up to us timidly and
shrinkingly, as if they were trying to apologize, but
could find no excuse, for blooming in such a place.
Tiny blue-eyed tremblers! We plucked them from
their stems, and knew it would be happiness for them to
die somewhere else. They exhaled their gratitude in
sweetness, and we said: "As flowers were found on
Nero's tomb, so are there violets even in Arkansas."
Not a minute had we reclined our fatigued forms before
the sand-flies and gnats assailed us in force; and before
we could effect our escape, we looked as if we had just
recovered from an attack of the small-pox.
One of my optics was closed, and my. companion's lips
had assumed the proportions of a full-blooded African's.
The winged pests covered us in swarms, and for five
minutes our motions resembled the wild movements of




MAYING IN ARKANSAS.


161


dancing Dervises.   Indeed, I doubt if the Dervises
ever danced as we did.
With our swinging limbs and ceaseless gyrations, we
must have seemed like human windmills, turning to
every point of the compass at the same time.
We leaped ourselves out of our boots and hats and
coats; and, in the midst of his bewilderment, I found
my associate endeavoring to put on a cotton-wood tree,
and myself trying to draw a large swamp over my
"burning feet, and cover my head with a mud-bank.
After a while, we began to grow used to it; but, at the
same time, seriously arrived at the conclusion, that, however interesting such excursions might be to the natives,
they were not altogether fascinating to civilized beings.
So we went off precipitately through marshes and
morasses, breathing gnats and sand-flies as if they had
all our lives composed our natural atmosphere; trying to
wipe off the blood that had started from our faces with
our boots, and to cover our pedal extremities with our
handkerchiefs.
While we were struggling along like men under the
pressure of forty cocktails, we heard a sharp rattle, and
looking before us with what eyes the gnats had left us,
we saw two huge snakes coiled, and ready to spring.
Rattlesnakes had no terrors for us then.  We were
desperate.
At that moment I believe I would have walked into
the roaring mouths of a battery, or even up to the matrimonial altar, without shrinking.
We regarded rattlesnakes as symbols of Secession,
and we knew the sandflies and gnats were of the Rebel




162


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


tribe. So we attacked the venomous serpents with our
"boots; beating to the right and left, quite indifferent
whether we struck them, or they struck us.
We had leather pyrotechnics, boot Catherine wheels,
for a short time, when the hateful rattling ceased, and we
saw the snakes were dead.
We thought we had killed them; but I know now the
flies and gnats had swarmed down their throats and
strangled them.
Little inclination had we to investigate the matter, but
rushed on through the swamps, and at last reached a
skiff-whether ours or not was a question of indifference
-and, leaping into it, rowed over the river again.
After we had reached the Tennessee shore, we fell into
the back water, and ultimately got on board the Flotilla,
with one boot between us, no hats, physiognomies that
would have set Lavater mad to contemplate, and bearing a close resemblance to the horribly tattooed faces so
greatly in favor with the New Zealanders.
I looked into the glass-a thing I rarely do, for I hate
repulsive spectacles-and, as far as my defective eyesight
could determine, I thought I discovered a striking resemblance between myself and the Egyptian Sphynx, and
that I appeared as if I might be a brother of the grotesque
figure with four heads, by which the Brahmins sometimes
represent their chief deity.
However hideous, I looked no worse than I felt, and I
immediately celebrated my Maying in Arkansas by going
into full mourning of wet towels and bread-and-milk
poultices, and was afterwards mistaken by some intimate
acquaintances for an Ojibeway Indian, or the Calvinistic




MAYING IN ARKANSAS.


163


Devil, escaped from the diseased mind of a believer in
the moral effect of eternal brimstone.
I have seen Arkansas since that occasion; but I cannot say I regard it as fondly as Leander did the shores of
Abydos, or Manfred the vision of Astarte.
I marvel much whether Job would not have blasphemed had he ever gone to Mississippi county on a May
excursion. To be afflicted with boils is bad enough; but
to be besieged by Arkansas gnats is absolutely beyond
endurance; and I know the man of Uz could not and
would not have borne it stoically.
Talk of straining at gnats. Who would not strain at
them in my case? Rather than not do so, I would take
a contract to swallow all the camels-including the concomitants of caravans-that ever crossed the Arabian
Desert.
In the midst of my pain and poultices, I cried out,
after the manner of the son of Hilkiah:
O that I had a deadly enemy, and I were a million of
gnats, such as are found in Arkansas!
O that Arkansas hung by one silken strand over the
abyss of Tophet, and I stood near with a glistening
cheese-knife!
O that I were a Rebel, that I might hang myself for
the good of my country, and the benefit of my example
to my fellow-traitors!
O that I were a Confederate note! Then no one
would touch me-not even a gnat.
O that I were Jeff. Davis or Wigfall! Then I would be
deader than the Ptolemies. O that I were the Rebellion!
Then I'd be a thing of the past.




164


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER XXVI.
COMMODORE FOOTE'S FAREWELL.
Impressive Scene on the Flag-Ship.-Address of the Commodore.-Emotion of
the Sailors.-Exciting Tug-Chase.
DURING the siege of Fort Pillow, the condition of Commodore A. H. Foote's health became such that he was
compelled to ask to be relieved, and toward the latter
part of April, 1862, he was superseded by Captain Davis,
of the Navy. The Commodore had for several months
been very feeble, and was often unable to go on deck for
weeks at a time.
When the day was appointed for the Commodore's departure there was quite a stir in the Fleet, and, as he
was greatly beloved, his fellow-officers and the sailors
generally deeply regretted the loss of their gallant
commander.
When the hour came for his going up the river, the
deck of the Benton was crowded; and as the Flag-officer
appeared, supported by Captain Phelps, he was greeted
with tremendous huzzas.   Old tars swung their hats,
and not a few of their eyes moistened when they looked,
as they supposed, upon the brave old Commodore for
the last time, as indeed they did.
The Flag-officer paused for a few moments, and, removing his cap, gave those near him to understand he
would address them.




COMMODORE FOOTE'S FAREWELL.


165


The Commodore said he had asked to be relieved because he knew he could not fill his office in his existing
condition of health. He was willing to sacrifice himself
for his country, but he knew he would be injuring the
cause by retaining his position any longer.
He had been growing feebler and feebler every day,
and his physician had often told him he could not improve while exposed to the excitements of the service
and confined to the Flag-ship. He complimented the
officers and crew of the Benton in the highest manner.
He had always found them faithful, brave, and true, and
had fondly hoped to remain with them until the War was
over. That he could not was a cause of great regret;
but wherever he went, he would bear with him the memory of the Benton and her gallant crew, and, if his life
were spared, he would often revert to the scenes he had
passed among them with mingled feelings of sorrow and
of pride. The interview was impressive and affecting,
and at the close the Commodore could hardly speak for
emotion, and the tears, answered by many who were
present, stole down his thin and pallid cheeks.
An hour after this, the De Soto dropped down to the
Flagship to convey the Flag-officer to Cairo, and he soon
made his way, with the assistance of Captains Davis and
Phelps, to the transport, where he was placed in a chair
on the guards, looking toward the crew of the Benton,
who stood, an anxious crowd, upon the deck.
The Commodore was moved deeply, and was extremely nervous, laboring greatly to conceal his agifation; but
he could not succeed; and he placed a palm-leaf, which
he carried, before his face, to hide the gushing tears.




166


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


As the De Soto moved away, the crew pulled off their
caps and gave three loud and hearty cheers, at which
the Flag-officer rose from his chair and said, in an excited manner and in broken accents: "God bless you
all, my brave companions! I know you will succeed in
all you undertake, for such a cause, in such hands, can
not fail. I had hoped to stay with you. I had rather
died with you than go away; but I go for your good and
the good of my country; and I can never forget you,never, never. You are asgallant and noble men as ever
fought in a glorious cause, and I shall remember your
merits to my dying day."
I thought I had seen the Commodore for the last time;
but after the De Soto was out of sight, it was discovered
the mail had been left behind; and Captain Phelps ordered the Captain of a tug lying alongside to take the
mail, and catch the transport by all means.
A fellow-journalist and myself leaped on board the
little marine Mercury, and were immediately steaming
rapidly up the river.
Faster and faster darted the tug through and against
the strong currents of the Mississippi.
Sixty pounds of steam was all the boats were allowed
under ordinary circumstances to carry; but in ten minutes the steam-gauge marked ninety.
The firemen worked nobly, and the boilers glowed
anew. The little boat fairly leaped out of the water;
throwing the white spray above the speeding bow.
One hundred and ten, twenty, thirty, declared the
steam-gauge; but still we seemed to be gaining little on
the De Soto.




COMMODORE FOOTE'S FAREWELL.


167


"Fire up, boys!" shouted the Captain. "We have
orders to catch that boat; and I'll do it if I blow the tug
to h-1."
Open flew the doors of the furnace, and the coal crackled in the blazing fire; and the boilers rang shrilly and
ominously, while the steam-gauge went up to one hundred and sixty. The tug trembled in every joint, and
radiated heat on every side, as we darted through the
sweeping tide of the mighty river.
One hundred and seventy-and eighty and ninety proclaimed the steam-gauge; and as we went flying through
the water, the engineer hallooed: "She won't bear much
more. Something will break soon."
"Let it break," shouted the Captain, who had overheard the remark. "Our orders are to catch the De
Soto, and we must do it. Never mind the tug. We'll
do our part. If she don't do hers, that's her business."
We were gaining rapidly on the boat. We saw her
smoke rising around a bend; and as we sped after her, I
observed we were carrying exactly two hundred pounds
of steam.
There was something exciting in the race against time.
and the spice of danger made it interesting.
Gods, how hot the tiny craft was! how swift we went!
She threw out heat as a house on fire. Every joint
shook; every seam cracked; every square inch throbbed
under the high pressure of the chained vapors that
seemed burning to discharge their painful deaths upon
the slender crew.
The tug ran like an aqueous greyhound; and while
we were speculating upon the chances of being blown




168


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


into fragments, we darted through a narrow shute, and
in less than five minutes we passed out, and were by the
side of the De Soto.
The race was over. The orders had been executed.
Perhaps more than one person on the tug breathed
freer as we ran alongside and delivered the mail. But
the excitement was gone. The interest was at an end;
and the tug became an ordinary tug, as the steam-gauge
fell to seventy again, and danger dwindled away, with
the blue vapor, into the invisible air.
While the Captain of the tug was busy on the De Soto,
my companion and myself went into the cabin of the
boat, and found the Commodore lying exhausted upon a
sofa. I then noticed for the first time how very pale, and
worn, and thin he was. Had he remained another month
on the Benton, I do not think he would ever have left
her alive.
As we approached, the Commodore extended his
wasted hand. We expressed the hope that he would
soon be better; that our loss would prove his gain.
" It is the cause that will be the gainer," answered the
Flag-officer, feebly.  "My life is nothing.  My country
is welcome to so poor an offering at any time; but I can
not injure our sacred cause by striving to fill a position
for which illness has unfitted me.. My country first;
myself afterwards."
So we parted from the gallant Flag-officer, and never
saw him more.




NAVAL ENGAGEMENT AT FORT PILLOW,


169


CHAPTER XXVII.
NAVAL ENGAGEMENT AT FORT PILLOW.
Unexpected Appearance of the Hostile Vessels.-Commencement of the Attack.
-Character of the Enemy's Boats.-Warm Work on a Warm Day.-The Rebel
Sharpshooters.-A Gallant Captain and Determined Lieutenant.-Explosion of
a Rebel Ram.-A Paymaster acting as Gunner.-Incidents of the Fight.Victory Decided in our Favor.
THE Rebels at Fort Pillow had so often made menaces
of attack upon the National Flotilla, that no one on board
believed they had any idea of putting their threats into
execution. And yet for once they made their words
good, not allowing their gasconade to end altogether in
inanity, as it has so often done in the flatulent regions of
Secessia.
It had generally been supposed, if the enemy designed
to engage us, they would take advantage of the night,
and endeavor to surprise us amid the darkness. No one
imagined the Rebels would come up in the face of open
day and offer us battle; nor do I believe they would
have done so, had they not learned our position the day
before.
When five or six of the enemy's gunboats and two or
three of his rams appeared, about seven o'clock, on the
morning of May 10, 1862, above Craighead Point, they
created some little astonishment, but no alarm, not-.
withstanding we were taken at great disadvantage. Not
one of our boats had any thing like a full head of steam,
and some of them barely a fire in their boilers.




170


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


As the Cincinnati, Captain Roger A. Stembel, was
about half a mile above the Point, guarding two of the
mortars, and the other gunboats were at least a mile and
a half still above him, the Rebel gunboat McRea, and
three rams, the Van Dorn, Webb, and Sumter, immediately steamed toward the solitary guardian, while the
remainder of the hostile fleet stopped in the bend near
the Tennessee shore, after firing half a dozen guns.
It was evident, from the beginning, that the foe designed to make his fight with the McRea and the rams,
not caring to expose his other gunboats to ours.
The enemy's gunboats, excepting the McRea, were, as
they had been represented, tow-boats, cut down to the
boiler deck; their machinery inclosed with iron, with
bow and stern guns very slenderly, if at all, protected,
save by bales of cotton, piled several feet high both fore
and aft.
The McRea, formerly a schooner, and very fast, was
about one hundred and twenty-five feet long, and a fine
model. Her engines and boilers were protected by railway iron; and though it was supposed that she had six,
seven, or eight guns, only two were perceptible.
Her bow and stern were covered with bales of cotton,
which were also piled up some distance on her deck,
acting as breastworks; and behind those was a large
body of infantry and sharpshooters, whose duty it was
to pick off whomsoever they could on our gunboats.
The three rams, the Van Dorn, Sumter, and Webb,
were protected and ironed like the McRea, but were
smaller and lower, being constructed out of tow-boats.
The Van Dorn was formidable, having a sharp, strong




z
Z?
o1 \V\
>
H
H 'V
-I
0
O \








NAVAL ENGAGEMENT AT FORT PILLOW.


171


iron prow, partially under water, as the McRea and
Sumter had, that must have proved very effective against
the strongest vessel.
The two rams had stern and bow guns, and musketeers
and riflemen, protected by bales of cotton.
But two sailors were on the deck of the Cincinnati,
engaged in washing it, when the McRea, considerably in
advance, went steaming rapidly toward her. The alarm
was given, and the officers and crew, who were at breakfast, were soon at their posts..
They had no time to get out of the way, but they fired
their stern guns first, and then a double broadside at her
without changing her course. The McRea struck her
with great force on the port quarter, knocking a great
hole in her, and immediately filling the shell-room with
water.
The gunboats were all built with different compartments designed to be water-tight, so that if one of them
sprang aleak, the others would remain dry. The timber
used, however, was green instead of seasoned; and,
having shrunk greatly, the filling of one compartment
with water was equivalent to filling them all-a fault of
the builders to which the disaster to the Cincinnati was;
owing.
The McRea now backed off and prepared herself for
another blow; but before she had started on her return,
our gunboat had fired her bow guns and another broadside into her, at a distance of not less than one hundred
and fifty yards. Of course, every shot struck her, and
some of the cotton-bales were displaced; but she did not
seem at all disabled.
12




172


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


By that time the Van Dorn had arrived, and, though
she was received with several guns, she struck the Cincinnati in the stern, and in less than a minute the McRea
had come a second time into collision with our craft,
near the wheel-house, on the starboard side.
The Cincinnati was rapidly taking water, and in a very
unpleasant predicament; and some of the officers feared,she would be sunk before the Moulid City, Captain A.
H. Kilty, which was hastening to her aid, and the Benton,
Captain S. L. Phelps, which was dropping down without
zsteam, could come to her assistance.
Very soon, however, the Mound City arrived at the
immediate scene of action, having been firing very accurately at the three Rebel vessels while she was making
Iher mile of distance.
Her shot struck the McRea and Van Dorn again and:again; and as she moved up, the former leveled her long.guns at the bow, and was on the eve of giving her a
raking fire, when the gallant Union craft sent a thirty-,six pound shell against the cannon, and completely dis-mounted it.
The Van Dorn now turned her attention to the Mound
City, leaving the McRea to take care of the Cincinnati,
which would have been the recipient of a fourth thrust,
had not the broadside of the Benton caused the enemy
to veer round and miss her victim.
On the altered schooner the sharpshooters were active,
trying to kill the officers at the same time that they insured security for themselves. Their rifles were visibly
protruding between the cotton-bales, and thrust over their
tops, and numerous bullets whizzed by the ears of our




NAVAL ENGAGEMENT AT FORT PILLOW.


173


gallant sailors. No human figure, however, could be
seen, except the man at the wheel; and Captain Stembel,
knowing how much depended on removing him, called
for a gun, and shot the pilot, who fell apparently dead.
A few seconds after, the pilot of the Cincinnati hallooed
out, " There is a d- d scoundrel getting ready to shoot
you, Captain."
Stembel, who looked up and saw a man pointing a
gun at his head, discharged his own piece and a pair of
revolvers, and stepped forward to screen himself behind
the pilot-house.
He was too late. Before he had half covered his body
with the intervening object, the Rebel sent into his left
shoulder a ball that passed out of his throat, about two
inches under his chin.
The brave officer, whose principal fault was that he
exposed himself too recklessly, fell to the deck, and it
was supposed, at first, he was killed. He was picked
up and carried below, where he retained his consciousness, and every few seconds opened his eyes and'
anxiously inquired as to the progress of the battle. His
wounds were so serious, however, that he was not able
to resume his duties for a number of months.
The Cincinnati seemed settling; and as Lieutenant
William Hoel had then succeeded to the command, he,
under the impression that the boat would soon be at the
bottom of the river, addressed the crew for a few seconds,
telling them never to remove the American ensign, but
to go down with it, if they must go down, and giving
three cheers for the Stars and Stripes.
That little speech, so full of genuine patriotism and




174


FOUR YEARS 1N SECESSIA.


courage, made the sailors shout lustily; and then they
turned away to their duties.
The Cincinnati was rolling from side to side, and the
inexorable McRea was, for the fifth time, running toward
her. That blow might have been attended with disastrous consequences; but, as she was speeding to the
crippled craft, the Benton fired two of her rifled Dahlgrens, and one of them passed through the boilers of
the McRea, which exploded with a tremendous noise,
that was but faintly heard, however, above the roar of
battle.
Her deck was observed to rise, while piercing shrieks
rent the air, and a number of persons were seen to leap
on the cotton-bales, and fall back wounded, dying, and
dead.
At that moment she hauled down her soiled Rebel
flag, and Captain Phelps, of the Benton, ordered his men
to fire on her no more. The McRea still floated down,
and as she was turning the point she again hoisted
her tattered ensign, and disappeared behind the intervening land.
After the McRea had passed out of sight, and while
the Van Dorn and another ram called the Sumter were
engaged with the Mound City, the tug Dauntless ran
out to the Cincinnati, and towed her to the Tennessee
shore.
Though disabled, the officers of the Cincinnati were
still disposed to fight, and more desperately than ever,
and would have sunk in the middle of the Mississippi
with their brave spirits unconquered.
Just before the McRea exploded her boiler, Cap



NAVAL ENGAGEMENT AT FORT PILLOW.


175


tain Stembel's crew had been prepared for resisting
"boarders, as it was thought some of the enemy's gunboats or rams would make an attempt of the kind. The
sailors were ready with revolvers, cutlasses, boardingpikes, and hand-grenades, and unfortunate and summary
would have been the fate of the Rebels if they had made
the rash effort. The Union crew were very anxious to
give the foe a warm reception, and a howl of disappointment arose as they beheld their last hope of engaging the
McRea fade away.
The Mound City, Captain A. H. Kilty, fought the Van
Dorn and Sumter bravely; the Captain being on deck
all the while, and firing at the pilots with a musket.
Every man on the boat was active and watchful, and it
was very strange no one was hit by the enemy, as a steady
fire of rifles was kept up from behind the cotton-bales.
The Mound City bore many marks of musket-balls on
her pilot-house and paddle-boxes, and the officers heard
the music of the small leaden vocalists more than once
in close proximity to their imperiled ears.
Paymaster Gunn-afterwards killed in action up the
White River-although he knew nothing whatever of
artillery or projectiles, and had no duties to perform
in the gun-room, seeing two pieces lying idle, induced
a couple of men to load them, and pointing the cannon
at the Van Dorn, only a hundred yards distant, had the
satisfaction of planting two shells in the very center of the
ram, which appeared to do excellent execution.
The Sumter had struck the Mound City twice with
her iron prow, but had done her little damage; while the
gunboat had riddled the ram, and so alarmed the sharp



FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


shooters that they remained silent, cowering behind their
defenses. The Van Dorn finally had a favorable chance,
and struck the Mound City with great force on the bow,
causing a large leak, which there was no time to attempt
to stop.
The Benton was now near the rams, which were so
afraid of the flagship, knowing her superior strength,
that they steamed away from her as soon as possible.
The Benton placed herself between the Van Dorn and
Sumter, and fired four or five guns at a third ram, which
was running toward the Carondelet, and, striking her
wheels and machinery, disabled her.
That ram, said to be the Webb, began floating off with
the current, and, as she neared the point, the Benton fired
two of her fifty-pound Dahlgrens, and the next minute
steam was pouring out of every part of her.
Soon after one of her boilers exploded, and she was
half a wreck as the last glimpse was caught of her, passing the first fortifications of Pillow.
The Van Dorn appeared to bear a particular hatred to
the mortar rafts, which must have annoyed the enemy
not a little with their perpetual firing over the irremovable Craighead. She even paused from her attack on the
Mound City, and fired two thirty-two pounders at the
crew of one of the mortars, perforating the thin coat of
iron as if it had been glass.
The Rebel marines fired a number of shots at the
mortar-men, and two of the Secession officers climbed
on the cotton-bales with muskets, and discharged their
pieces, but with no effect.
The mortar-men were not to be bullied; so the crew




NAVAL ENGAGEMENT AT FORT PILLOW.


1


loaded one of the monsters, and sent a thirteen-inch shell
in the direction of the Van Dorn. The enemy was not
materially injured, for the bomb coursed off at an angle
of forty-five degrees.
For four or five minutes the Benton, under the control
of the cool and skillful pilot, Horace Bigsby, turned
several times completely round as on an axis, firing in
succession her bow, stern, and broadside guns. The
Rebels knew her strength-indeed, they had long been
acquainted with the particularities of the Flotilla as well
as we ourselves-and did not dare to attack her; and
as she riddled their rams with her guns, they felt they
had no prospect of success, and at last made an effort to
get out of harm' s way.
That they had much difficulty in doing, in consequence
of the condition of their machinery; and the rams were
often struck by the Mound City and Benton before they
could escape. The former gunboat fairly touched the
stern of the Van Dorn once, and fired a Dahlgren,
whose ball passed entirely through her, and must have
proved very destructive to human life.
The Rebel gunboats in the lead, near the Tennessee
shore, perceived the danger of their allies, but lacked the
nerve to go to their assistance, and at last steamed down
the river, leaving the rams to their fate.
The Van Dorn, Sumter, and Webb, at last happened
to strike a favorable current, and passed away from the
Benton, which was very unwieldy, and floated toward
the Point.
Had our gunboats at the time had more power-by that
I mean a higher pressure of steamn-they would have ex



1T78


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


perienced no trouble in conveying the hostile rams to
Plum Point as prizes.
The rebel gunboats having fled, and the rams escaped,
the battle was of course over; no enemy remaining to be
engaged.
Cheer after cheer went up from our Flotilla as the enemy, one after another,, dropped away, and three times
three arose from the flagship while the last of the Rebel
rams was passing by Craighead Point.
Only three of our gunboats were engaged; but the
Carondelet, Captain Henry Walke, and the St. Louis,
Captain H. Erben, Jr., fired a number of shots from their
original positions off the Arkansas shore; though it was
not probable, at the long range, that they did any material damage to the foe.
The action did not occupy more than half an hour, and
much of it was concealed by the heavy smoke that rested
like a vast fog upon the river, on the close, hot, blazing
morning of the engagement. Our skiffs, yawls, and tugs
were plying here and there, occupied by persons anxious
to witness the fight, which surprised every one by its
brevity. Our sailors had counted on a long battle, and
were therefore disappointed, but the engagement was
warm while it lasted.
Our success, under the circumstances, was very flattering, for it cannot be denied that the attack was well
planned and matured by the foe, and was at least a
partial surprise to us. No one on the Flotilla had any
idea of the Rebels coming up to engage us. And the
Cincinnati did not see the McRea or the rams before they
had gotten some distance above the Point.




FALL OF MEMPHIS.


179


CHAPTER XXVIII.
FALL OF MEMPHIS.
A Gasconading Rebel.-The Brilliant Gunboat Fight.-The Vessels Engaged.The Nautical Situation.-Commencement of the Action.-Union Rams Taking
Part.-Increased Warmth of the Contest.-Sinking of the General Lovell.Magnanimity of our Seamen.-Flight of the Southern Commodore.-Explosion
of the Jeff. Thompson.-Harmony of Northerners and Southerners after the
City's Occupation.
BETWEEN five and six o' clock on the morning of June
6, 1862, the most spirited and decisive battle that had
occurred on the Mississippi was fought, for the possession of Memphis, opposite that city, between five of our
gunboats, assisted by two of our rams, and eight of the
enemy's gunboats. The engagement was witnessed by
thousands of the citizens, who expected, no doubt, to see
the Unionists driven from the river, as they had been
frequently told by Commodore Edward Montgomery,
that he would, when the proper time came, annihilate
the whole Yankee fleet.
The fight was a glorious one. Out of eight of the hostile vessels, seven were destroyed, sunk, or captured,
and but one escaped; while only one of our rams was
injured, and but two persons were slightly wounded.
The Union gunboats, five in number, Benton, Cairo,
Carondelet, Louisville, and St. Louis, and the two rams,




180


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Queen of the West and the Monarch, left their moorings
"below Paddy's Hen and Chickens-as the group of
islands five miles above Memphis is called by steamboat
men-about half-past four in the morning, and slowly
steamed toward the city.
The morning was clear and calm, balmy and beautiful;
and, after passing a bend in the river, we saw the city in
the distance, reposing very quietly upon the border of
the broad stream that had poured whatever Memphis had
of wealth into her ungrateful lap.
The river was clear of all craft. Not even a skiff
skimmed its surface, and the officers of the fleet thought
we should meet with no opposition to our possession of
the city. The seamen were very fearful lest that would
prove true, and prayed, after their peculiar nautical
fashion, that the Rebel vessels would come out and give
us fight.
After the engagement of the 10th of May, the gunboat
crews felt as if that action required continuation, and
they were longing for another battle most anxiously.
The sailors' orisons seemed to be answered.
The Flotilla was just opposite the upper part of the
city, when the boats of the Rebel Fleet were seen in a
slight bend of the river, about a mile and a quarter
below.
Our crews cheered lustily at the grateful vision, for
they knew there was a prospect for a fight. The Flotilla
still steamed leisurely along, and the enemy soon advanced towards us.
Commodore Davis did not wish to bring on an engagement at so early an hour, preferring that the men should




FALL OF MEMPHIS.


181


eat their breakfast, and thus be qualified to fight better
than when suffering from physical depletion. He therefore ordered the five vessels under his command to retreat; and the foe, perceiving that, grew evidently emboldened, believing we were anxious to avoid a battle.
As we retraced our course the enemy followed, and,
in a few minutes, the flagship Little Rebel, on which was
Commodore Montgomery, fired a shot at the Benton,
which was in the van, without injuring her, and then a
second and third, with the same effect.
This braggadocio became intolerable. Commodore
Davis must have so regarded it, for he at once ordered
an advance, and the Benton, Captain W. L. Phelps, and
the Louisville, Captain B. M. Dove, assumed the front
position, with the Cairo, Captain Bryant, the Carondelet,
Captain Henry Walke, and the St. Louis, Captain Wilson
McGunnigle, in the rear.
The hostile fleet, in addition to the flagship, was composed of General Beauregard, General Bragg, Jeff.
Thompson, General Lovell, General Price, Sumter, and
General Van Dorn.
The Cairo was the first of our boats to discharge a gun
at the enemy, and followed it up by two more that fell
very near the Little Rebel, without striking her.
The Carondelet and Louisville imitated the worthy
example, and the Lovell and Thompson, Bragg and
Price, on the other side, took part in the nautical entertainment, and lent the deep bass of their guns to the
warlike concert.
In less than three minutes both fleets were engaged
in a most animated action, and every vessel was thun



182


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


dering away to the best of its capacity. The river and
sky seemed to shake beneath the roar.
The boats were gradually approaching nearer each
other, and were enveloped in such a volume of smoke
that one could hardly be distinguished from the other,
except when a fresh, stiff breeze lifted the curtain of
heavy vapor.
The engagement continued thus for more than twenty
minutes, and at the end of that time the combatants
were more than half a mile apart, and were still firing
heavily.
We had frequently hit their boats, but they had not
touched ours; their gunners being in a state of excitement or unskillfulness that caused them to entirely waste
their ammunition.
At this juncture, two Cincinnati rams, the Queen of
the West and Monarch, appeared about half a mile behind the Flotilla; and the enemy, as soon as he perceived them, began to retreat, conscious if he could not
sustain the attack before, he would be still less able to
do it after the rams had entered upon the action.
The Queen of the West darted out at rapid speed
ahead of its companion toward the Beauregard, which
fired at her opponent four times without striking her
once, though in one or two instances no more than two
hundred yards distant.
The ram, nothing disconcerted, ran in boldly, designing to butt the Rebel near the bow, and would have
done so, had not the gunboat been so adroitly managed
by her pilot. The Beauregard moved suddenly to the
right as the ram passed-the movement was very skill



FALL OF MEMPHIS.


183


ful and very opportune for the enemy-causing the latter
to miss her aim altogether.
The ram, finding herself thus foiled, determined to test
her capacity upon another vessel, and so turned her attention to the General Price, and hit her heavily on-the
wheel-house before she could get out of the way, tearing
off a good portion of her side.
The Beauregard immediately went to the rescue, and
was steaming towards the ram, when the latter reversed
her engines and receded a few yards, causing the gunboat to collide with the injured Price, and knock a large
hole in her bow.
Such peculiar attention from an ally was unexpected,
and more than the Price could endure, for she had been
leaking from her first injury, and now the water poured
into her in streams.
The Beauregard seemed inclined to avenge her own
mistake upon the Queen; and, before the latter was well
aware, struck her a heavy blow upon the side that made
her timbers crack, and take water freely.
The water was quite deep at that point, and there was
a probability the ram and gunboat would both sink;
but, to remove doubt on the subject for one of the pair,
the Beauregard was on the point of hitting the ram a
second time, when the close proximity of the Monarch
induced her to look out for her own safety.
The Beauregard fired several times at the Monarch,
and struck her once upon the wooden bulwarks, without producing any particular effect. The Monarch then
took charge of the Queen and the Price, and towed
them ashore to prevent them from sinking; though not




184


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


before she had made a large hole in the stern of the
Beauregard, and rendered her prospect of keeping
above water, for any length of time, extremely problematical.
The Beauregard was crippled, but as she was still able
to run fairly, and to render obedience to the helmsman,
she continued to participate in the fight with great obstinacy.
During the scenes of the action in which the rams had
taken part, the gunboats had continued firing steadily
and heavily; the Unionists often hitting the Rebels,
while the latter missed their objects almost invariably.
The gunboats on both sides, having been separated
somewhat by the rams, came up nearer, again to pay
their respects to each other, and the 'cannonading grew
heavier than it had been at any previous time. The distant report of the single guns was lost-they all blended
together in one loud, deafening roar.
The Benton was still in the van, and within range of
the Lovell, when Captain Phelps thought he would try
one of the fifty-pound rifled Parrotts on the foe.
The conical shell went whizzing out of the long and
formidable piece into the Lovell, just above her waterline, cutting a deep hole in her, and increasing the rate
of her insurance fearfully.
The Lovell, it was immediately discovered, was leaking like a sieve, and indeed she was already beginning
to sink rapidly, and, from appearance, must go down
very soon.
Her crew appeared aware of this, for they were seen
on the side of the vessel, forgetful of every thing but




FALL OF MEMPHIS.


185


their own safety. Self-preservation was their only law
at that juncture.
The Lovell was descending lower and lower, and the
Benton, anxious to save any of the poor fellows that
might be launched into the rapid river, prepared her
cutter, which, in the haste, was twice swamped.
The seamen were soon in the cutter, however, and
approaching the doomed gunboat, which had just run
up a flag of truce, and which, thirty seconds after, went
down in fourteen fathoms of water.
At least twenty-five or thirty of the Rebels leaped
overboard after the accident, with the intention of swimming ashore. Some of them succeeded; but the greater
part perished miserably in the stream.
The Union flag-ship reached the spot in time to pick up
tensor twelve poor fellows struggling in the river, and
save them at least from the death which Friar John, in
Rabelais, predicted would not fall to the lot of Panurge,
and would never occur to them for the same reason.
The efforts of the loyal seamen to preserve the lives of
those who had been but a few minutes before their
avowed and bitter enemies, was a beautiful spectacle,
and proved conclusively the falseness of the charges of
inhumanity and blood-thirstiness which the Secessionists
have brought against the brave and loyal people of the
North.
From the first inception of the fight, the wharf and
bluffs of Memphis had been crowded with interested and
anxious spectators; and as the boats moved down the
river the throng followed, as if fearful they would lose
the smallest part of the highly exciting battle.  The




186


FOUR YEARS IN SEOESSIA.


people were thus made witnesses of our actions and those
of the Rebels, and were not to be deceived with Munchausen-like stories, when they had the facts immediately
before their eyes.
The magnanimity of the crew of the Benton must have
had a salutary influence upon them, for it proved that
loyal hearts were as generous as they were brave.
The Little Rebel was leaking more and more rapidly,
and, having been struck several additional times with
heavy shot, Commodore Edward Montgomery doubtless
began to feel uneasy, and therefore ran the flagship over
to the Arkansas shore, where she was followed by the
Carondelet so closely that her officers had no time to burn
her-as was doubtless their intention-but had ample
leisure to leap on the bank and escape through the
woods.
The Carondelet threw a dozen shells among the trees
after the alarmed fugitives, but did them, in all probability, not the least harm. It is said that Commodore
Montgomery was the first man ashore-he, the truculent
boaster and presumptuous braggart, who had ever
been threatening to devour the Yankees, and completely
depopulate the d-d Abolition North.
Perhaps he thought, as John B. Floyd said at Donelson, he could not afford to be taken.
Queer-is it not?-that the fellows who prate so unceasingly of their determination to die upon the smallest
provocation, and affect such magnificent indifference to
death, should, when the test comes, reveal more love of
existence than the most ordinary and least obtrusive
natures, that never defied a respectable shadow.




FALL OF MEMPHIS.


187


The Jeff. Thompson was struck a number of times, and
was so severely injured that she also was run to the
Arkansas shore, about a mile below the city, and deserted
by her officers and crew, after the manner of the Little
Rebel.
A shell had set the vessel on fire; but the flames were
extinguished-or it was thought they were-by some of
the Union sailors in gigs, and the five uninjured ships of
the National Fleet continued their pursuit of the Sumter,
General Bragg, and Van Dorn.
After the gunboats had followed the retreating enemy
a mile further, firing steadily, and the Rebels replying,
though more and more feebly as the chase was extended,
the Sumter's pilot put her head to the Arkansas side, and
beached her, giving her valiant crew the means of escape
through the wilds and swamps of that classic State.
The General Bragg had received a shot through her
wheel-house, early in the action, and was unable to move
about very readily; but she contrived to get over the
river, thus furnishing the frightened Rebels an opportunity to emigrate further South.
The General Yan Dorn, the only boat now remaining
of the Rebel Fleet, was still steaming toward President' s
Island, three miles below the city. The Cairo and Carondelet followed her for two miles, hoping to cripple her
with a shot, but neither of them succeeded, and they at
last gave up the pursuit.
Surely our gallant sailors ought to have been satisfied
with the brilliant successes of that day. They had placed
hiors de combat seven out of eight of the insurgent
vessels, and had gained one of the most brilliant naval
13




188


FOUR YEARS IN SEOESSIA.


victories on record, without any loss to themselves worthy
of mention.
While the Union gunboats were on their way to the
city, they perceived that the Jeff Thompson, lying off the
Arkansas shore, was on fire again, and the flames were
pouring out all over her deck.
The cause of the new conflagration was not positively
known. Some persons declared that the old flames burst
out anew; and others, that the gunboat was set on fire by
a party of Rebels who returned to the vessel, applying
the torch after the Flotilla had passed down the river.
The latter opinion was probably correct. The Jeff.
Thompson was blazing higher and higher, and the
flames attracted a crowd of persons to the Tennessee
shore, because it was supposed she would blow up as
soon as the fire reached her magazine.
The gunboat appeared to burn for hours, so much did
expectation burden time, and the flames were creeping
down to the water's edge, apparently; and yet no indication had been given of an explosion. It was supposed
that the powder had been reinoved from the Thompson,
and a number of persons were turning away disappointed,
when a tremendous explosion rent the air, and an immense flame shot up into the radiant morning, while
hundreds of heavy reports were heard in rapid succession half a mile above our heads.
Those were the shells of the gunboat, which had been
thrown upward with ignited fuses from the vessel, and
burst with the tremendous crackling sound that vast
buildings sometimes give before they fall to the earth in
ruins.




FALL OF MEMPHIS.


189


Looking over to the spot where the Jeff. Thompson
was, we saw nothing but a few black and charred fragments on the water. She had been literally blown to
atoms-a worthy fate for a Rebel vessel, and typical of
the termination of the Rebel cause.
The most pleasant relations seemed to exist between the
Union parties that captured Memphis on the 6th and the
resident citizens; and it was amusing to observe how
amiable, and almost fraternal, were the associations between the Bohemians from New York, Cincinnati, Chicago, and St. Louis, and the journalists of Memphis,
recently so ferociously malignant and bitterly vindictive
against the Abolition Press.
The Bluff City journalists called upon us daily at the
Flotilla, or at our head-quarters in the city, and we talked
and laughed over the gasconade of the South, its mighty
promises and small performances, in a most pleasant manner. One could have seen the New    York Tribune and
the Memphis Appeal sitting in pleasing converse over a
bottle of champagne, at the dinner-fable of the Gayoso;
the Chicago Tribune and Memphis Argus strolling
through Court Square, arm-in-arm; and the Cincinnati
Times and the Memphis Avalanche, forgetful of the present, discussing the relative merits of Grisi and Gazzaniga
on the lyric stage. Who, after that, could say the journalists were not an amiable and a forgiving race, and that
the people of the North and South were not a band of
brothers?
If the day of our occupation was not a gala-day in
Memphis, it appeared strangely otherwise. It reminded




190


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


me of a Fourth of July I had passed there a few years
before, except that it was far more quiet and orderly.
The people stood in knots and groups in the streets, at the
corners, before the hotels and restaurants, but were not
uneasy or annoyed.
The negroes lounged listlessly about, and seemed to
regard the whole thing as a pleasant joke, or a glorious
event-it was difficult from the expression of their countenances to determine which.
The women were not in force, but most of them were
of that class of which Memphis had ever had far more
than her just proportion. Still, there were not a few of
the sex abroad; and a number I saw sitting in their
parlors, or on their door-steps, were eminently correct in
conduct and respectable in appearance.
No dark looks, no rude gestures, no studied insult from
them. They conducted themselves in a most lady-like
manner; and even the lorette class were subdued and
reserved.
The Cyprians were often young and comely, and expensively attired, though frequently with sober and excellent
taste.  They were too broad to be bound by political
creeds or formulas. They were universal.
Hundreds of them had witnessed the naval engagement
from the bluff, and one of the city papers had assumed
that they were Southern ladies, who could not restrain
their tears of mortification and rage when they beheld the
discomfiture and almost total destruction of the hostile
fleet.
The idea of their weeping! The source of their tears
had long been dried. They mourned not for Adonais




FALL OF MEMPHIS.


191


dead, or living either. What cared they which side
was victorious? What was Hecuba to them, or they to
Hecuba?
Curiosity and personal interest called them forth on
that day; and many of them, no doubt, speculated from
the first hour of the Union occupation upon the same subject-though from a different motive-that so perplexed
the mind of the antique female at the siege of Saragossa.
Memphis bore all the appearance of a subjugated
city; and yet it had been as violent in its treason as
Charleston.
The people accepted their altered condition without
a murmur; and they were wise in so doing.
When I saw our gunboats with their ports triced up,
and the long, black guns bearing on the town, I must
confess I rather liked the new order of things.
I was glad Memphis had learned the lesson so many
other nests of treason have since learned to their severest
cost.




192


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER XXIX.
THE EXPEDITION UP WHITE RIVER.
Its Object and Strength.-Cautious Progress.-Character of the Stream.-Desperation of the Arkansans.-Progress of the Fleet.-The Engagement near
St. Charles.-Position of the Hostile Fortifications.-Explosion of the Mound
City.-Terrible Destruction by Steam.-Horrible Scenes of Suffering.-Inhumanity and Barbarity of the Rebels.-Their Defeat and Punishment.
THE White River expedition left Memphis, Tennessee,
in June, 1862, for the purpose of ascending that stream
as far as Jacksonport, three hundred and fifty miles from
the mouth, supplying General Curtis's force with provisions, and capturing the transports the Rebels were
supposed to have stolen and concealed there.
The expedition, which was only partially successful,
consisted of the iron-clad gunboats Mound City (flagship), the St. Louis, the two wooden gunboats,. Lexington and Conestoga; with the tug Spitfire, armed with a
twenty-pound howitzer, and the transports New National,
White Cloud, and D. Musselman, carrying part of
Colonel G. N. Fitch's Forty-sixth Indiana regiment, and
a large amount of supplies.
The expedition tarried at the confluence of the Mississippi from  Saturday afternoon until Monday morning,
and then proceeded cautiously and slowly up the river,
having heard obstructions had been placed in the water,
and batteries erected to resist the progress of the fleet.




THE EXPEDITION UP WHITE RIVER.


193


The gunboats steamed along-the flagship in advance,
the St. Louis in her wake, and the wooden boats about
half a mile behind-all of Monday, without meeting any
thing of consequence, or the least exciting occurrence.
Monday night they anchored in the stream, which,
though quite deep, is very narrow; being in some places
no more than two hundred yards from bank to bank.
There are bluffs, or more properly ridges, along the
river at intervals; and these ridges rise to hights of thirty,
forty, and fifty feet, rendering the stream very favorable
for defense.
Almost anywhere on the White, a skilled marksman
could shoot an enemy in the middle of the river, and in
many places on the opposite bank.
Captain Kilty, of the Mound City, had been informed
that Rebel batteries had been planted near St. Charles,
Arkansas, about seventy miles from the mouth; but,
when he had made that distance, he saw no signs of
them.
However, to obtain as early intelligence of them as possible, he began to shell the woods along the banks, which,
in various localities, offered fine opportunities for ambuscade. The St. Louis and Conestoga also threw shells,
while the Lexington lingered in the rear to guard the
transports, and to preserve a sharp look-out for the
enemy.
The Arkansans had for some time been growing desperate, and more than usually menacing, on account of the
overrunning of their State by the "Yankee hordes of
barbarians," and the peculiar tantrums of Governor Rector. They were fearful, no doubt, if thoroughly invaded




194


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


by the Northern people, that they might grow civilized;
and if such an unnatural thing should happen, they
would lose their identity completely, and cease to be regarded in this country as the Patagonians are by the
nations of Europe.
The brilliant prestige of Arkansas would be gone. Its
classic communities would turn their attention from the
high-toned and chivalrous amusements of imbibing Mini6
rifle whisky, and assassinating unarmed men, to the vile
Yankee habits of healthful employment and general
culture.
The Union Fleet had proceeded something over eighty
miles up White River, when the vessels were fired upon
from a battery on the south side, but so hidden among
the trees that the officers could hardly determine the spot
whence the pieces were discharged.
The guns of the enemy were not very heavy, sounding
like twelve and twenty-four pounders; and subsequent
examination proved they were such.
Two of the shots struck the casemates of the St. Louis,
but glanced off harmless, while most of them passed over
the deck.
The Mound City and St. Louis both fired at the Rebel
batteries, and frequently perceived that their shells fell
very near, if not inside of, the works.
After seven or eight minutes, the enemy appeared
fatigued with his efforts and fired only at intervals,
whereupon the Mound City pushed on, leaving the first
battery to the St. Louis and Conestoga, which were
throwing a few shells at the Rebel fortifications at a mile's
distance.




THE EXPEDITION UP WHITE RIVER.


195


At that place there was a bend in the river, and further
up a more decided turn toward the South, the general
course of the stream being East and West.
The first battery was opposite the former bend, on the
top of a ridge, about fifty feet high; and the opinion that
it had a companion was soon established by a heavy report from a point half a mile above, the howl of a round
shot across the bow of the Mound City, and the burial of
the iron missile in the bank on the opposite side.
A second shot came, but it went wide of the mark, and
cut off the branches of a tree two hundred yards in the rear
of the vessel. The new ordnance was heavier than that
in the lower battery; and the flagship promptly proceeded to pay her compliments to the loud-voiced stranger.
The Mound City fired her bow guns twice, and then
her port guns, as she steamed up the river a little further-making the distance between her and the upper
battery less than half a mile.
The second fortification was on the same bluff or ridge
as its fellow, but a little further from the shore, and in a
southwesterly direction from the flagship, preventing
its guns from bearing directly on the Mound City.
The effect of the flagship's shots could not not be well
determined; but they appeared to be falling where the
gunners desired, and the cannonade on her part, as well
as on that of the St. Louis, was warmly kept up for
eight or ten minutes; less than twenty having elapsed'
since the first gun had been fired from the lower battery.
In the mean time, Colonel Fitch had landed his five or
six hundred men on the southern bank, below the first
battery, with the intention of attacking the upper works




196


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


in the rear, and surprising the enemy at his guns, which
he had no doubt of accomplishing.
The Colonel was already on the march, and had signaled the Mound City to cease firing, that his own men
might not be injured, when an unanticipated accident,
of the most horrible character, almost entirely destroyed
the officers and crew of the flagship.
A large cylindrical shot, with iron flanges on each
side, known among the Rebels as the pigeon-shot, struck
the casemates on the port side, in the upper port, near
the first gun, at an angle of about ninety degrees, passing
through the casemate' and connecting-pipe of the boilers,
killing a gunner on the starboard side, and alighting in
the steward's pantry.
The effect of severing the connecting-pipe may be
imagined.
All the steam of the boilers at once rushed, with a
shrill, hissing sound, into every part of the gunboat,
which presented no means for its escape except through
the port-holes and skylights.
It was like injectiiig steam into an air-tight box; and
when we remember that there were nearly one hundred
and eighty human beings below the deck, the ineffable
horror of their situation may readily be conceived.
The burning steam fairly mowed them down. They
shrieked, and leaped, and writhed with pain. But the
steam did not pity them: it seemed rather to delight in
their sufferings, extending its vaporous torture to new
victims.
Horrors upon horrors accumulated in that low, square,
seething, boiling, fiery inclosure, where man endured




THE EXPEDITION UP WHITE RIVER.


197


all the fabled agonies of the damned, and yet could
not die.
To some, Fate was merciful, for they perished at once.
As many as forty-five or fifty, who had stood on the gundeck a few moments before, with buoyant hopes and
elated spirits, lay there in pallid death, unconscious of
the pain around them, of the terrible moaning.and groaning of the sufferers.
It was easy to die, but it was hard to suffer so. And
many a pain-gleaming eye turned to the scalded corpses
that strewed the deck, and wondered in agonizing accents
why Heaven had not been so kind to all.
Oh, the horror of that scene! Oh, the fearful power
of man to suffer!
Who that saw what was visible that day can ever forget it?
Will not that wail of distress fall upon his ear in dreams,
and make him start in dread even from the arms of her
he loves above his life?
As soon as the first shock had passed, those who had
not been slain, from full inhalation of the steam, were
prompted, mad with pain, to leap into the river to cool
their burning bodies.
The impulse appeared to seize upon all simultaneously,
and out of the open ports plunged one wretch after
another, until seventy or eighty were struggling in the
water.
Some were so badly scalded that they could not swim,
and they, most fortunately, were drowned; while others,
refreshed and cooled by the river, struck out for the
bank, as if they had been uninjured.




198


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


At that crisis, when every principle of humanity called
for aid and succor, the Rebels proved themselves worthy
of the antecedents that had dishonored and disgraced
them from the beginning of the War.
Instead of imitating the example of generosity and
magnanimity set them by a brave and loyal people, struggling for the preservation of a great and glorious country;
forgetting the heroic conduct shown by our seamen, who
endeavored, in the gunboat fight off Memphis, to save the
lives of the unfortunate crew of the General Lovell when
she went down-the Rebels, most merciless and dastardly,
made every effort to destroy the poor fellows who, with
agonized bodies, were seeking to reach either the land or
our vessels.
Perpetual shame and eternal infamy to the people who
could forget the common promptings of Nature in the
demoniac hatred that strove only to destroy!
The gunners in the upper battery turned their guns
upon the suffering officers and seamen of the Mound City;
and Captain Fry, the Commander of the works, ordered
his sharpshooters to kill every Yankee before he could
reach the shore, or succor could be brought.
The devilish enemy needed no second bidding. He
ran with alacrity down to the boat, and there, under
cover of the trees, fired muskets and rifles at the wounded
swimmers with a cool diabolism that a South Sea Islander
would have blushed to witness.
Many a brave fellow was killed and sank in the river,
and others were wounded several times before they obtained the needful assistance from their loyal friends.
The Mound City was powerless, and drifting with the




THE EXPEDITION UP WHITE RIVER.


199


current. She could not aid them; and the St. Louis was
then opposite the lower fortifications.
The Conestoga, which was just below the Mound City,
promptly lowered two of her boats, and sent them to
save the survivors of the horrible accident.
"No sooner had her gigs been manned, and no sooner
were the seamen pulling at their oars, on the divine errand of mercy, than the upper work opened its heavy
guns upon the succorers of distress.
The Union gigs were struck-one in the bow, the other
in the stern; but, strange to say, they were not swamped,
nor were they prevented from rescuing from the river
some of the ill-fated crew.
A third boat from the St. Louis was struck with Rebel
shot, and shattered; but none of the inmates were hurt
or drowned.
The enemy was still bent on his demonaic work, and
would have fired his last cartridge at the defenseless
sailors, had not the brave Indianians, under Colonel
Fitch, succeeded by that time in reaching the rear of the
fortifications that Captain Fry commanded, and arrested
the fearful progress of deliberate murder.
The Forty-sixth Indiana rushed with a shout and a
volley of musketry into the hostile works, and then
charged with bayonets the inhuman foe.
The Rebels were completely taken by surprise. Before
they had time to throw down their arms, or cry for
quarter, they were lying in their intrenchments and their
life-blood ebbing away.
Some of the Secessionists fought with dogged obstinacy
against superior numbers, and fell covered with ghastly




200


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


wounds. Their bravery commands respect, but their
cruelty must forever dishonor their memory.
Those of the Rebels along the shore who had been
firing at the Unionists in the water, were soon charged
upon by the Indianians, for whom they did not wait, but
took to flight along the bank toward the village of St.
Charles.
A portion of the insurgents ran to a place above where
the river had been obstructed, and, jumping into a few
small boats they had moored there, crossed the stream
and disappeared in the woods.
The rout was complete. The victory was ours.! but,
alas, at what a price!
The White River by that time began to fall rapidly,
and on that account the expedition returned; the officers
commanding it having serious apprehensions, if they
continued up the stream, that their Vessels would get
aground and be lost.




THE BRAGG-BUELL CAMPAIGN.


201


CHAPTER XXX.
THE BRAGG-BUELL CAMPAIGN.
Trip from Louisville to Frankfort.-The Occupation of the Kentucky Capital by
the Enemy.-Sudden Conversion of Romantic Women to Loyalty.-The Inauguration of the Pseudo-Governor.-Sudden Exodus of the Usurpers; their
Strange Self-Delusion.-Bohemians in the Horse-Market.-The Battle of Perryville.-A Journalistic Rebel Colonel.-Sketch of John H. Morgan.
DURING the Bragg-Buell Campaign in Kentucky, in
October, 1862, when the Rebels partially occupied the
State, I learned at Louisville, on the evening of the 8th
instant, that the Louisville and Frankfort Railway had
been repaired, and that a train would leave for the Capital very early the following morning. Consequently, a
fellow-Bohemian and myself deemed it journalistically
wise to visit the recent scene of the Rebel occupation.
On board the cars we found the morning papers, which
announced that John H. Morgan, with three thousand
cavalry, had taken the town after General Sill's departure, and still held it in his undisputed possession. Many
doubted the statement, while others affirmed its truth.
We concluded to solve the question to our own satisfaction, and pay a visit to John Morgan himself if we could
do no better.
The people all along the route seemed to be very glad




202


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


to see the cars running again, and to know the Rebel
reign was over in Kentucky.
We reached the terminus of the running distanceBenson's Creek, where the first bridge was burned
down-without accident or interruption. From     that
point we were compelled to walk, over a very rough,road, more than nine miles in the burning sun, which
was Summer-like in its heat in that latitude; and at
last we came in sight of Frankfort, and beheld our cavalry on the heights about the place, having seen no
bands of marauders, or guerrillas, except one fellow
across the river, who was skulking behind trees and
firing his rifle at those who passed within his range.
Arriving in the city, we learned that it had been reocupied by the foe the night previous about an hour; but
that he had precipitately retreated before General Dumont's advance.
At the "Governor' s" inauguration in Frankfort, October 4th, a number of good-looking and well-dressed
women from Fayette, Woodford, and Scott counties were
present, and caused more enthusiasm than the masculine
traitors themselves.
A number of the young and romantic women of Kentucky, present on the day of the pseudo-inauguration,
strange to say, saw the Southern soldiers for the first
time, and expressed themselves greatly disgusted with
them. They were not at all what they had expected.
They had been told, and believed, that the Southern
troops were composed of the true chivalry of the Cotton
States; of young men of birth, education, and fortune.
They thought they were handsome fellows, who could




THE BRAGG-BUELL CAMPAIGN.


203


talk Poetry and Sentiment to them; who would walk
with them tenderly by moonlight alone, and kiss 'them
sweetly and artistically under its rays. How terribly
were the imaginative darlings disenchanted!
Were those ragged, soiled, and plebeian breasts the
kind they were to lean upon, and to nestle their luxurious tresses in?
Were those thin and pallid, or coarse and bloated lips,
the ones they were to kiss
"In ecstasy supreme and rhapsody divine"?
Were those rough, harSh, vulgar voices the dulcet
tones that were to tell them  of Petrarch's love and
Eloisa's passion? Alas! No! Their dream was over.
Secession was stiipped of its meretricious tinsel, and the
army of the South lost its attraction in the eyes of the
romantic girls at a glance. They were cured-they were
converted; and many of them who, two weeks before,
were the fairest and stanchest of Rebels, became the
truest and most devoted of Unionists.  They cleansed
themselves from Secession in the pure stream of Nationality, and tfie aroma of Loyalty (to speak after the
manner of Kentucky) added a new sweetness to the
graceful motions of their fascinating forms.
Strange as it may seem, the Rebels, when in Frankfort, declared and believed they could not be driven from
Kentucky; that they would remain in the State as long;
as they desired, let the Yankees do what they could to
dislodge them.   "Governor"   Hawes had made his
arrangements to occupy the gubernatorial mansion, and
14




204


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


the family of Governor Magoffin were preparing to leave
the premises on his account.
"Governor" Hawes's speech, read from manuscript,
was a most lame and impotent effort. He is very old,
has a cracked and unpleasant voice, and this, with his
stammering, and hesitation, and nervousness, rendered
his address painful to hear and ridiculous to remember.
When the courier entered the Capital during the inaugural ceremonies, and informed General Buckner of the
approach of Dumont's forces, and the intelligence was
whispered around to the chief conspirators, the august
assembly suddenly dispersed in great confusion. Richard Hawes is said to have displayed the locomotive
capacity of youth in his departure. No one supposed a
man in the vicinity of seventy could have manifested so
much physical energy and vigor as he did on that memorable occasion.
If the old gentleman could have run as well for, as he
did from, the Governorship, he would have been Chief
Executive of Kentucky many years ago.
While the Rebels were in Frankfort, the people were
cut off from all intelligence, and had no idea of what was
going on around them. They saw no papers, not even
those from Louisville, though the " Confederate" officers
received them daily. They circulated and insisted upon
the truth of the most absurd stories. McClellan was
dead; Washington and Baltimore had been captured;
Lincoln had fled to Philadelphia; Louisville and Cincinnati had been surrendered; Union Commissioners had
gone to Richmond under a flag of truce, to sue for peace,
with kindred and equally improbable statements.




THE BRAGG-BUELL CAMPAIGN.


205


So far did the Secessionists carry their system of deception and falsehood, that they caused a fictitious Louisville Journal to be printed at Lexington, and circulated
among their troops and the citizens of that vicinity. This
sham sheet was full of telegrams, letters, and editorials'
of the most startling character, all of which went to prove
that the cause of the Union was utterly hopeless.
Persons who saw the Lexington publication say it bore
a striking resemblance to the Journal; that its type was
similar; many of the advertisements were the same; and
on the whole it was very well calculated to deceive
casual readers.
During the Bragg-Buell campaign in Kentucky, sev.
eral of us Bohemians endeavored to procure horses in
Louisville, and encountered many difficulties in so doing.
Hiring a horse was impossible; and buying any one
that I had seen for sale in the city seemed a hazardous
speculation, as none of them conveyed the impression
that they would last till they got out of the lines.
Their owners said they were not exactly "first-class
animals;" that they had a few slight ailments, such as
spavin, stringhalt, botts, blind-staggers, scratches, ringbone, and that, in some cases, they appeared addicted
to stumbling over their own shadow; and, indeed, to all
manner of equine eccentricities-save the foible of running away; but that, with those exceptions, they were as
good horses as could be found in Kentucky.
One morning I chanced to discover a very good-looking horse of the gentler sex; plump, round, and well
conditioned, and had agreed to purchase her. Going to




206


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


close the bargain in the afternoon, I learned, to my chagrin, that the poor creature had duplicated herself-a
probability I had before suspected, and suggested to the
jockey, who stoutly denied any such reflection on the
animal's character.
Then, however, facts visible to the naked eye spoke
for themselves. But the jockey insisted on his honesty,
and vowed the case to be one of immaculate conception.
Baying a horse at that time and place was a ponderous
"business-something approximating the superhuman.
If Hercules had then attempted the purchase of a steed
in Louisville, he would have failed.
He could cleanse the Augean Stables, and slay the
Lernman Hydra; but he would have found an equine
expedition quite another affair. For four full days several of us Correspondents were engaged in the horse business, and we succeeded at last in purchasing them; but
that was not half the labor.
We needed saddles, bridles, and other equipments.
We obtained them, and were on the eve of starting,
when we discovered that our animals wanted shoeing.
For fifteen hours the shoeing process went on, and then
was not finished. During that period, the horses had
broken their halters, gone lame, and become out of order
generally.
Still, we did not despair. We hoped to get off during
the Autumn-horses, saddles, shoes, blankets, Bohemians, and all.
Several 'f our party had grown sick from delay, vexation, and annoyance, and were unable to take the ride
after the Rebels.




THE BRAGG-BUELL CAMPAIGN.


207


Our steeds, I fancy, had all the ills that horse-flesh has
been heir to since the primeval steed was christened by
Father Adam. They were cheap animals-that is, we had
not paid more than six times their value (and they were
warranted sound for the price)-which guarantee meant
that, if very tenderly treated, they would go a mile a day
and recover from the exertion.
I was assured my horse was less than a hundred years
old, and that he gave fair warning before he fell down.
Who says he was not a good steed?
From his peculiar gait and idiosyncrasy of manner, I
am led to believe he had served a long and faithful apprenticeship in a tread-mill, for he had a delightful
habit of going round and round, in a manner exceedingly
suggestive of that or some other kindred avocation. If
my suspicions were baseless, and the Pythagorean doctrine true, the soul of my horse must formerly have
inhabited the body of a servant-girl addicted to wooden
shoes and waltzing.
All our horses were atrocious. Each one had his
specific peculiarity; but they all had one common generic peculiarity-that of not being worth a d-n.
No danger of those nags being seized by guerrillas,
who would not have captured them if they had been
paid for it.
The battle-field of Perryville I visited a few days after
the fight. It extends over a distance of ten miles, and
its appearance at that time did not indicate a very fierce
contest. The principal part of the fighting, however,
was confined to an area of less than a mile square, and




208


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


was marked by numerous graves of men who died the
death of heroes, but have left no heroes' fame.
The ground is rolling, somewhat similar to that of Wilson' s Creek, though more favorable for a general engagement. Every few hundred yards there is rising ground;
and upon those swells different batteries were placed,
giving free scope for mowing down the advancing columns of infantry. The severest struggle occurred in the
open country, where there was little timber, though the
small hills immediately adjacent were covered with soldiers, who, at so short a range, did much execution with
the musket. There could have been little advantage of
ground, except that the Rebels had a creek and much
broken land in their rear.
The dead had all been buried; and beyond the fresh
heaps of earth, the fragments of clothing, and the carcasses of horses, there was nothing to tell the visitor of a
general engagement. The appearance of the place indicated little more than a brisk skirmish. I have seen battle-fields which gave more evidence of a fierce contest,
months subsequent to the event, than Perryville did
only a few days after the fight.
The trees were rarely scarred, though here and there
one saw a tall hickory from which the bark was ripped,
or an oak whose branches had been cut off by the shells
and cannon-balls. The houses in the immediate neighborhood were struck frequently by the projectiles; and
even those in town were pierced by the artillery.
When myself and companions visited the field, it
looked as peaceful and pleasant as though no warrior's
foot had ever pressed the undulating soil. The country




THE BRAGG-BUELL CAMPAIGN.


209


surrounding is picturesque, and the landscape lay bathed
and beautiful in the warm October sunshine. Silence
reigned on the hill and in the valley, and the shrunken
creek looked like one of those "rural scenes" artists
represent contiguous to an idle and deserted mill, with
cattle on the brink, lowing, with partially slaked thirst,
to the sultry Summer.
The battle of Perryville is one of the most inexplicable
military events of the War, so far as our army is concerned. I have no disposition at this late day to find
fault with any one; but the conduct of General Buell in
permitting nearly, if not the whole, of Bragg's forces to
engage a portion of ours, and refusing to give our regiments, when they stood there burning to rush into the
contest, permission to re-enforce their overpowered companions in arms, is to my mind, and to that of nearly
every Union officer who was on that field, beyond the
power of satisfactory explanation.
Bragg's army ought to, and could, have been almost
annihilated on that very spot. The opportunity was
golden, and could not be regained. If ever there was a
place where a skillful General would have desired to
meet an opposing force-if ever there were circumstances
that seemed to promise a crushing victory, that place was
Perrvville, and those circumstances the surroundings.
and situation and matriel and morale of our army.
Buell and his friends have endeavored to give a solution of the mystery of Perryville; but they have only
made the darkness deeper. I have never known so uni
versal an expression of disapprobation-to use a very
mild term-of any General as there was of Buell on the




210


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


part of his army after that battle. I should not like to
repeat the terms of opprobrium that were employed toward him; but I must say that every one of his officers,
from Generals to Second Lieutenants, and even the noncommissioned officers and privates, were so entirely dissatisfied with him, after they had been compelled to give
up the pursuit of the enemy, that it was deemed absolutely necessary, for the sake of subordination, to supersede their commander-in-chief.
Lieutenant-Colonel James O0. Nixon, formerly editor
and proprietor of the New Orleans Crescent, was acting
Colonel of Scott's Louisiana Cavalry during the campaign in Kentucky. Nixon has had some queer experiences, and not of the most agreeable character either.
Eighteen months before, he was supposed to be worth
five hundred thousand dollars; was the principal proprietor of the Crescent, then a very valuable journal, and
an owner of a great deal of real estate; but when with
Bragg, as he himself stated, he was not worth enough to
buy a beggar's coat.
Nixon I very well remember in New Orleans, some
years ago, as a very pleasant, good-looking fellow, exceedingly well dressed, and affecting the elegant and luxurious to a very large degree-a bon vivant and fashiionable man of the world.
The " Revolution" revolutionized him, certainly, and
converted him into a ragged, desperate Rebel, with a
dead Past behind, and a dark Future before him. Still,
when such men can endure what he endured for a bad
cause,-and endure it too with patience and cheerfulness




TIE BRAGG-BUELL CAMPAIGN.


211


as he did,-it speaks well for their earnestness and their
inverted heroism.
If there was one man more detested and admired than
another in Fayette County, Kentucky, in 1862, it was
John H. Morgan, a former resident of Lexington. The
Unionists hated him as they did his Satanic Majesty; and
the Secessionists were disposed to apotheosize him for
what the Loyalists regarded as his villany.  Morgan
made his name a terror in Kentucky, and gained a widespread fame for daring, energy, and skill as a military
leader, though he did very little to merit such a reputation.
Beyond the commission of outrages on defenseless persons, and wholesale plunderings in unguarded neighborhoods, he performed few acts that should have entitled
him to the consideration even of the "Confederates."
He and his men knew how to steal good horses, and to
procure fresh ones when the old ones were exhausted;
and by that means he was enabled to move rapidly from
point to point to some undisturbed field of plunder.
Deprived of that peculiar forte, he became nothing save
John Morgan the sporting-man, an unprincipled and a
common swaggerer.
Morgan had some notoriety as a libertine, and is said
to have cruelly wronged several poor and unbefriended
girls in that vicinity; which, perhaps, accounts for the
worship rendered him by the feminine Rebels in Lexington during the hey-day of Secessionism in that State.
It has been said that women love best the men who
wrong them most, and Morgan appears to have been a
shining verification of the aphorism.




212          FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.
When the War broke out, no woman who had any
self-respect would have suffered him to approach herand yet, two years after, those who assumed to be fine
ladies crowned him with garlands, and vied with each
other for the honor of the attentions of a somewhat
romantic ruffian and a common black-leg.
Secession makes wonderful revolutions in petticoats.
Feminine voices, modulated to sweetness by culture and
refinement, proclaimed him hero, whom-a little while
before-to have recognized would have been degradation.
So much for Success! It is the world's fascinater,
and the bender of unwilling knees.




THE RAM ARKANSAS.


213


CHAPTER XXXI.
THE RAMI ARKANSAS DEFYING OUR FLEET.
The Expedition up the Yazoo.-Unexpected Meeting of the Rebel Monster.Her Engagement with the Union Vessels.-Their Discomfiture and Retreat.Her Passage of the Union Flotilla.-Her Exposure to a Terrible Fire.-Ex.
plosion on Board the Lancaster.-Casualties on both Sides.-Bohemian Reflections on Running Batteries.
AT the commencement of the siege of Vicksburg, in
July, 1862, the famous Rebel ram and gunboat Arkansas ran down the Yazoo into the Mississippi, and by the
entire Union Flotilla. Her intention was to descend the
river by night, but she was unavoidably delayed. Her
officers had, of course, been fully informed by spies and
scouts of the situation of Farragut's and Davis' s vessels,
and of the fact that they did not have up steam, on account of the sickness on the Fleet and the excessive heat
of the weather.
The famous and formidable gunboat Arkansas, of
which the enemy had been boasting for months, which
was run off from   Memphis in an unfinished state and
towed up the Yazoo, was discovered by us on the 15th
of July-if not to our sorrow, at least to our intense mor.
tification.
The Arkansas was no myth, as many had begun to
believe: her strength and power of resistance were no




214


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


idle boast. She did the things of which the foe affirmed
her capable.  She surely bearded the lion in his denthe Douglas in his hall.
Think of her-with twelve guns, running the blockade of fourteen or fifteen vessels of war and several
armed rams, with more than twice an hundred guns!
Was it not delightfully, refreshingly daring?
The powder gunboat Tyler, Captain William Gwin,
and the steam ram Queen of the West, Captain Joseph
Ford, started at five o'clock in the morning on a reconnoissance up the Yazoo, designing to go as far as Liverpool Landing, sixty-five miles from the mouth, to determine the character of the Rebel defenses there, and learn,
if possible, something of the condition of the far-famed
Arkansas, claimed by many to be equal in impenetrability to the world-renowned Merrimac. Another Correspondent and myself had made arrangements to go on the
expedition, but were a few seconds too late; the vessels
having started half an hour before the appointed time.
From the best information we had been able to gather
on the Fleet, it was believed that the Rebel gunboat was
still unfinished, and lying aground in the Yazoo above
the blockade, with no probability of making her appearance during the War.
The Carondelet, Captain Henry Walke, accompanied
the gunboat and ram as-far as the mouth of Yazoo River,
and then took her position, while her two companions
ascended the stream. The latter had not gone more than
six miles before they discovered a strange-looking craft
descending, which they could not make out. It was
thought she must be a tug; but surely there never was




THE RAM ARKANSAS.


215


such a queer tug before. Her appearance was anomalous, and glasses were directed toward her with little
advantage.   She was moving rapidly down, and the
conclusion was reached that she must be the Arkansasshe could be nothing else.
After that little speculation, the stranger was within a
hundred and fifty yards of the Tyler, and that there
might be no doubt of her intentions and character, she
fired a large gun at the gunboat, but did not strike her.
The Tyler fired in return, and was rounding to, to give a
broadside to the enemy, but could not do so for lack of
time. The foe was almost at her stern, and discharged
two of her guns with their muzzles almost resting against
the Union vessel's side. The Tyler backed for a little
distance and fired several times, giving herself full leisure and opportunity to perceive her antagonist was a
powerful iron-clad ship that could every way overmatch her.
There was no hope of success in such an unequal
struggle, and Captain Gwin, a most gallant officer, whose
valor and patriotism had been proved by the severest
tests, concluded to save his men, if possible, by out-running the Arkansas.
The Tyler's bow was soon down stream, and the
Arkansas very little behind her, firing rapidly, and the
pursued replying with her stern-guns coolly and regularly. The Tyler's shot seemed to have little, if any,
effect upon the Rebel, while the latter's fire was often
destructive, entering the Unionist's sides, and piercing
her timbers, and sending showers of splinters over her
deck.




216


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Before the Tyler had reached the mouth of Yazoo
River, eight of her men were killed, and seventeen
wounded. Five of the sailors' heads were shot entirely
off by a single ball from the enemy, and the unfortunate
fellows fell together-a bloody, deformed, and hideous
mass of quivering death.
The Queen of the West, seeing the Tyler turn from her
enemy, and observing that the Rebel was a powerful
ram as well as gunboat, knew it would be useless to
attempt to butt her adversary. Besides, as she was
under the command of the gunboat, and saw her consort
avoiding the action, she thought it proper to imitate her
example.
The Arkansas had an immense wrought-iron prow or
beak, weighing several tons-before Which the little
wooden ram could have offered no more resistance than
a paper boat.
The Tyler and Queen passed rapidly out of the Yazoo
River, to give the fleet in the Mississippi warning of the
approach of the Arkansas; but as soon as they appeared
above the bend the cause of their early return was suspected. The heavy firing had been heard for an hour,
and as it grew louder and louder, it was evident that our
vessels must have met a formidable and powerful foe.
The Carondelet' Captain Henry Walke, saw and knew
her antagonist at once, but determined to give her battle,
and she did so in the most gallant style.
The Union vessel sent several shots against the mailed
sides of her foe as she advanced, but did her no apparent harm. The Arkansas answered with heavy and
metallic voice, and her responses told fearfully on the




THE RAM ARKANSAS.


217


valiant craft, whose officers, however, were nothing
daunted by their powerful antagonist.
Before the third Rebel shot, a number of the crew were
killed and wounded on the Carondelet, which, during a
spirited engagement of ten minutes, lost nine men in
killed, and twenty-two wounded, and three missing.
One of the hostile shots severed some part of her machinery, and, causing the steam to escape, so alarmed a
portion of the crew, that they jumped overboard, to
avoid, as they supposed, being scalded to death.
As soon as Captain Walke perceived he could not injure the Arkansas with his guns, he resolved to board
her, and gave the order, which hardly passed his lips,
when the Unionist ran along aside, and a brave band
leaped on the narrow deck of the enemy.
But every thing was iron-proof, and tightly closed.
Only the ports and loop-holes were open for the sharpshooters. After endeavoring in vain to get inside the
Arkansas, for some minutes, the seamen were forced to
return, dispirited and chagrined, to their own boat.
A few more shots were exchanged; when the Arkansas
made off, and hastened so rapidly down the river, that
the Carondelet, in her crippled condition, could not follow her.
Very soon after, the dangerous enemy was seen coming
with diminished speed towards the Fleet; very few of the
vessels having steam up, and the rams themselves carrying little more than enough to make head against the current. Every officer on the Flotilla was anxious to see if the
Arkansas would have the temerity to attempt running
by the entire cordon of Union ships. She left them little




218


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


time to doubt. She moved on in a measured and deliberate manner, and in a direct line.
As she passed the rams, the Lancaster, with only sixty
pounds of steam, attempted to butt her; but, before she
could place herself in position to do so, the Arkansas
fired several times into her side, wounding several of the
ram's crew, and exploded her mud-receiver.
The steam poured out all over the Lancaster, and it
was thought her boiler had exploded, especially as she
began drifting down the river. Several tugs and transports went to her assistance, and towed her up stream,
when it was discovered that two of her negro deck hands
had been killed, six of the men scalded, and two or three
were missing; the last having been drowned by leaping
overboard.
The Arkansas continued her course by the Hartford
and Richmond, neither of which gave her a broadside,
though they fired at her repeatedly; passed the Oneida,
Iroquois, Wissahickon, Cincinnati, Sumter, Bragg, Essex,
Benton, and all the rest. They all fired at her when she
was above, as she went down, and when she was below;
but, though heavy shot often struck her, they did not
seem to injure her. Now she had run the gantlet, and
was seen turning the bend; and soon after she passed
under the guns of the water-batteries at Vicksburg,
reposing under the shade of the laurels she had so nobly
von, and welcomed by every true Rebel heart in the
Rebel stronghold.
The Cincinnati and the Benton in fifteen minutes got
up more steam, and ran down the river, again opening
their guns upon the batteries and the Arkansas, both of




THE RAM ARKANSAS.


219


"which replied vigorously. The Benton steamed immediately under the enemy's guns, and was struck a number
of times, three of the shots passing into and through her.
One of her crew had his head and a part of his body shot
off while holding the end of a lanyald, and two others
were so dangerously wounded, that the surgeon had little
hope of their recovery.
The Benton was damaged, but not materially. A number of the rooms on her gun-deck were completely riddled,
and a one hundred and twenty-eight pound shot passed
into her port quarter through the Third Master's room,
and then through the culinary department, and finally into
the Commodore's cabin, where, after destroying a good
deal of furniture, it very pacifically went to bed, and lay
upon the pillow on which, two hours before, the Flagofficer had been peacefully reposing.
Whether the Arkansas was injured or not during the
fight was then a matter of conjecture; but, since then, I
have seen the report of Lieutenant Isaac N. Brown, commanding the vessel, which states that she was badly cut
up, her smoke-stack and pilot-house destroyed, and her
armor frequently perforated. Ten of her crew were killed
outright, and eighteen men, including three of her officers,
were wounded. Those who ran the gantlet suffered fearfully from heat and want of air. Lieutenant Brown, who
has the reputation of a  ery daring, and even reckless
man, is reported to have said that no consideration under
Heaven would have induced him to try the terrible experiment again.
Speaking of defying guns and fleets prompts me to
15




220


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


give here, though somewhat out of place, the sensations
one experiences in scenes of peril such as running batteries, in which interesting experiments I have had my
share of experience on the Mississippi, and by which,
some months before my capture, I had the honor, through
a very genteel wound, to lose exactly fourteen drops of
my sanguineous fluid.
That the sensation is pleasurable in itself, I do not
"believe; but that it,is somewhat exciting and rather peculiar, those who have tried it will generally admit. The
fact that it is dangerous usually attracts, and the chance
of its resulting in your quietus, removes it from the class
of vulgar sensations.
Most men feel their greatest uneasiness before the batteries they expect to pass have opened fire, because uncertainty and anxious expectation are severer tests of the
nerves than any tangible reality, however horrible.
Few cultivated mortals, possessed of sensibility and
imagination, but are capable of fear, though they may
not reveal it. They have a natural horror of pain and
peril, and yet they possess, in most cases, pride and will
enough to overcome the weaknesses of instinct.
They are not brave, but they may be courageous, and
are so usually, when experience has enabled them to calculate probabilities, and taught them a half indifference
to what they have often escaped without harm.
When a man is under the fire of batteries in an unarmed vessel, and hears the crash of timber, or the explosion of a shell overhead, or the roar of a round shot as
it passes not far from him, he begins to think he has been
in more agreeable places, and contrast suggests quiet and




THE RAM ARKANSAS.


221


pacific scenes, where gunpowder is not burned, and the
trade of the undertaker is not coerced into unnatural animation.
If he sees a poor fellow stricken down or disemboweled
at his side, or the groan of a dying unfortunate reaches
his keenly sensitive ear, he can hardly resist a shudder,
and wonders when his own turn will come.
But it does not come, and as the long minutes pass,
he begins to believe it will not, though the shot plunge
about the boat as before. At first he was alarmed; then
he grew desperate.
Now he is rising into coolness, and becomes capable
of reasoning upon his situation, which seems far less perilous than it did.
Perhaps at no time did the apprehension of death disturb him so much as that of a dreadful wound which
would cause intense suffering.
If a man in the midst of battle could be certain that the
shot which would reach him would prove instantaneously
fatal, he would be calmer than he is; for the idea of pain,
to a sensitive nature, is more cruel than death.
To a philosophic mind, and one capable of making its
philosophy practical, death must not only be, but must
seem, unavoidable-something which, if escaped to-day,
will come to-morrow.
No human power can avoid the dread necessity. Nothing is certain on this Planet save death; and who can
say it is better to perish this year or the next, in youth or
old age?
Most mortals are as well prepared, to use an orthodox
phrase, of very unsatisfactory significance, to quit the




222


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


world at one time as another. In fact, they are never
ready to go. There is always something left undone-a
little delay is ever desirable.
The business of existence is rarely closed up so that a
"balance-sheet may be struck between the known and the
unknown.
Once life is snuffed out like a candle, there is no more
dying, according to the popular belief (though we have
no more reason to think this than that we never lived before we entered the World), and that ought to be a
species of melancholy satisfaction.
No one can unravel the future, whether it be for good
or evil, happiness or misery. What is to be will be;
albeit the trouble is to determine how much we are the
subjects of free will and how much of fate.
This sounds very speculative for a brain passing batteries; but the active mind will so think, though it were
far better not to reason at all under such circumstances.
With the beginning of action, all thought, except that
conducive to action, should subside.    Then there is
no introspection, no anticipation of unseen things, no
hightening of peril, no illusion of pain.
But every thing terminates, and you get out of the batteries' range, and a new sensation fills you.
You feel more comfortable, and you marvel you were
not more uneasy than you were, and at the same moment
wonder your pulse was quicker than when sipping
Chateau Margaux at an elaborate dinner.
How much more peril you saw than there was! How
many more wounds and deaths were in your mind than
in the assignment of Fortune!




THE RAM ARKANSAS.


223


You do not know whether you are more like a timid
child or a hero after your experience, and you conclude,
subsequently, that you little resemble either; that men
are very uncertain animals, touching Heaven and Earth
at the same time, and vibrating ever between Achilles
ahd Thersites-the angel and the clay.
It is difficult to calculate upon a man's courage, as it is
called.
The boldest may be frightened at a shadow.
We cease to love ourselves when we comprehend ourselves; and yet we may perceive good enough within to
engender contempt for others.
The philosophic life is but a series of experiments upon
ourselves, and though we learn much therefrom, the last
analysis brings nothing positive, nothing absolute; and
we are still but an atom in the sunbeam, a sand-grain on
the sea-shore.
Whether we run batteries or stop bullets, make poems
or statues, lead armies or live in solitude, obtain fame
or dwell unknown in the by-paths, all experience is unsatisfactory, all possessions are poor, all honor worthless.
We are ever drawn by the Ideal, and deceived by the
Possible.
The blossom withers while we hold it: Love dies in
our first embrace: the Future, to which we all stretch
out our longing arms, has no existence. And yet what is
to be will be!
But where is the subtle magician of the mind who can
reveal to us the purposes of Fate, or illumine for a moment
the darkness that must ever surround the Sphere?




224


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER XXXII.
PLANTATION LIFE IN THE SOUTH.
Expedition in Search of Cotton, Cattle, and Guerrillas.-Plantations along the
Mississippi.-Anxiety of the Negroes for Freedom.-Sad Scenes on Shore.An African Andromache.-A Miscegenated Southern Family.
DURING the latter part of the siege of Vicksburg, under
General Grant, in March, 1863, two or three of the Bohemians, seeing no prospect of any immediate activity in
that vicinity, joined a foraging expedition up the river in
quest of any adventures that might result from the trip.
Consequently, we steamed up and down the Father of
Waters, and wandered through Louisiana, Mississippi,
and Arkansas, looking out for cotton, cattle, and guerrillas.
Among other places, we touched at the American Bend,
in Washington County, Mississippi.
The principal plantations there were owned by Dr.
Wm. W. Worthington and his brother Samuel, both advanced in years, and having four sons in the insurgent
army. They were very wealthy before the Rebellion,
owning three plantations each, and some two or three
hundred negroes, many of whom had been taken back
into the swamps and to Texas.
The private residences and grounds of the brothers
Worthington were far superior to those one usually sees




PLANTATION LIFE IN THE SOUTH.


225


in the South. They made some assumption to comeliness
as well as comfort, and were on the whole rather pleasant, which must be attributed to the fact of their owners
coming from Kentucky, which has been largely influenced
"by the spirit and enterprise of the North.
While at the Bend I had frequent talks with the contrabands, and found them without exception most anxious
for freedom. They were willing to run any risks almost,
provided they could have any assurance of escaping
bondage.   They manifested   the utmost aversion to
slavery, and declared they would rather be free, if they
had to toil harder and live upon the merest pittance in
the North, than be idle and live in comfort in the South.
An elderly negress, Harriet Garratt, told me a sad
story, which, though by no means novel, will, I think,
bear repetition, and which I know to be true, from the
names of persons, and from circumstances she mentioned
in Kentucky, where I was quite well acquainted. She
belonged to a young woman residing in Mason county,
Kentucky, and after her mistress's marriage, was taken
to Cincinnati, and there manumitted. Harriet, hearing
soon after that her husband was to be sent to Mississippi,
determined to follow him, and accordingly accompanied
him, with her free papers on her person.
Arrived there, a slave-dealer, one Hines, in whose
keeping she and her husband, with other negroes, were,
discovered and destroyed her papers, and sold her to Dr.
Worthington, from which time she worked in the cottonfields.
Harriet was very desirous of going North, and her eyes
moistened at the mere idea, though she had long ceased,




226


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


she said, to hope for the freedom of which she had been
so basely defrauded. Her tale interested my Bohemian
companion and myself, and we made an arrangement with
the captain of one of the transports to take her and her
youngest daughter-she had three-as washerwomen.
The next morning we visited the sable auntie, and communicated the intelligence to her. She received it with
delight, but with conflicting emotions. Her eyes filled
with tears; her bosom heaved; she spoke with difficulty.
Had her nerves been more delicate she would have
fainted; but swooning is a pretty trick the unenlightened
daughters of Africa have not yet learned. At first she
poured out her heart in gratitude. She would go at
once; asked us a hundred questions in as many seconds;
told her daughter, who stood near, to make preparations
for their departure, and was tremulous with excitement,
laughing and weeping hysterically by turns.
In a few minutes, however, a new idea seemed to enter
the old woman's mind, and a shadow fell upon her face
that was visible even through her sable skin. Her husband and her other two daughters, whom she had forgotten in the first ebullition of her feelings, had occurred to
her. " I cannot leab de ole man and dem ere childern,
my good massas. Dey would grieb demselves to deff,
suah. I couldn't hab any joy in de dear old Norf when
I knowed my ole man and de gals was down heah in
Dixie workin' in de cotton wid de hard lashes on deir
back. O no! Gawd bress you bofe for your kindness to
ole auntie; but I couldn't do it. I nevah feel right in
my heart if I did."  And the old slave was silent, for her
voice was choked with tears, and her frame trembled with
emotion.




PLANTATION LIFE IN THE SOUTH.


227


Many other negroes of both sexes stood near, as we
were at the slave quarters, and though they did not hear
what was said, they felt what was passing, and looked
on in silence and in sympathy.
It was a touching scene-that struggle between love
and the desire for freedom, both so natural, and yet so
opposed-the yielding to one destroying t n  trin the hope of the
other.
Most gladly would we have furnished to auntie and
her whole family the means of going North; but we could
not. We had no power. We had done all we could;
and so we told her. " I knows dat, my young massas,"
she sobbed out. "You's bery good. I'se bery tankful.
God bress you!"
I lay no claim to religion, as it is usually understood,
and see little meaning in theological terminology; but
there was an earnestness in the woman's benediction that
was not without its impressiveness.
Many a time I have heard " God bless you!" which
"By daily use hath almost lost its sense,"
and from lips that were fresh with youth and rosy with
beauty; but the celestial invocation, I am sure, never
came from a more grateful heart, or fell from a tongue,
albeit uneducated, more sincere in its impassioned utterance.
When the devotion of this poor ignorant negress to her
husband and children was made so pathetically manifest,
I could not help but contrast it with the connubial and
maternal feeling of many of the fair daughters of Fortune,
the darling favorites of Society, who lounge on satin sofas,




228


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


or tread with dainty feet the luxurious boudoirs of Fifth
Avenue or Madison Square.
-*      *        *       *~      *k       *
Finding it very difficult to obtain cattle at the American
Bend, we returned below to Sunny-side Landing, Arkansas, hoping to have our quest there rewarded. At that place,
very near the Northern Louisiana line, was the plantation
of a third brother of the Worthingtons I have mentioned.
His name was Elisha, and he had never been married,
though he had availed himself of the recognized succedaneum of the South, having, many years before, taken as
his mistress the daughter of a Choctaw Indian and a negress, and admitted her to all the privileges and advantages supposed to belong to the uxorial state.
That gentleman of rare taste and choice morals had two
children-a son and daughter-probably eighteen and
seventeen years old, whom he educated in Ohio, and sent
to Europe, but who still bore the appearance and something of the manners of the native African. They lived
in their father's mansion, one of the most comfortable I
have seen in Arkansas, keeping house for him during his
absence in Texas, whither he went last June, after the
fall of Memphis. He was a notorious Rebel, and fled
from what he believed to be the Yankee wrath, knowing,
no doubt, far better than we, how well he deserved
hanging.




THE CAPTURE.


229


CHAPTER XXXIII.
CAPTURE OF THE TRIBUNE CORRESPONDENTS.
Reflections on our Return to Freedom.-The Effect of Imprisonment.-Rapidity
of Restoration to One's Normal Condition.-Running the Batteries of Vicksburg.-Incidents of the Undertaking.-Terrible Fire from the Rebel Stronghold.-Complete Wreck of our Expedition.-Brilliant Prospects for Dying.Adventures of the Bohemians.-Grotesque Appearance of the Prisoners.
NOT many weeks ago, when the author dwelt in the
midst of Filth and Misery, Despair and Death; when
those had been his constant companions for long and
wearisome months, and dreary seasons that knew no
change; it seemed as if no other than a prison-life had
been his-that Freedom, Beauty, Abundance, Pleasure,
were mere ideals of an aspiring soul, and had only shone
upon the soft landscape of his dearest dreams.
Even so does the Past now shrink before the Present.
The by-gone horrors appear phantasms of the brain amid
the comforts and the luxuries of metropolitan life.
As I peer out of the window at the vast and varied
human tides of Broadway, and hear the hum and roar
of its mighty thrqng, and the heavy peals of the passing
hours from the City-Hall clock, the intermediate space
between two periods of liberty is stricken out.
The years before and since the War come together like
the shifted scenes of the theater, shutting from view a
dark dungeon and its darker recollections.




230


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


As freedom and civilization were once too good, so
rebel prisons and their painful associations are now too
hideous, to be believed. The existing sensation is the
measure of the mind, which realizes with difficulty a past
consciousness of opposite impressions.
"How happy you must be!" has often been my greeting since my arrival within our lines; and the expression
is very natural.
If a man who has been a prisoner in the hands of the
enemy for a long while could only preserve the remembrance of his surroundings as a criterion for the future,
his restoration to freedom would be a return to paradise.
But the truth is, the man changes with his situation.
He glides so easily and readily into his normal status
that the abnormal seems at once insupportable.
Therefore, the Fifth Avenue, the Central Park, the
Academy of Music, Beauty, Banquets, Diamonds, have
no special charm.   They are the things of course, the
every-day garniture of civilized existence.
But the retrospect of not many weeks makes us shudder, and wonder at what now appears an impossible
philosophy.
Talked I ever amid those pestilential scenes unmoved? Stood I ever, calm and steady-voiced, beside
all those suffering forms?   Bore I ever those heavy
burdens, physical and spiritual, so long, without fainting or perishing on the weary way?
We know not what we can end are, is as true as truth,
and is no oftener considered than by the poor wretch
whom the fortunes of war have consigned to a Southern
prison. He finds, after months have passed, that he is




THE CAPTURE.


231


still alive and sane, in spite of starvation, freezing,
tyranny, and isolation, and believes himself of iron mold.
The scene changes, and liberty and kind fortune dawn
upon him. Then he looks behind, as the traveler who
has passed the brink of a precipice in the darkness, and
shudders while he thinks how narrow has been his escape; how horrible would have been his death.
A few months since I would have relished the coarsest
food, and deemed it delightful to dwell in the meanest
hut.   Now-so soon     does man grow    pampered in
places of purple-the choicest viands tempt me all in
vain, and I toss with restlessness upon the softest couch.
An age ago it seems, and yet the almanac tells me it
was on the night of May 3d, 1863, since my confrere, Mr.
Albert D. Richardson, and Mr. Richard T. Colburn of
the World newspaper, with some thirty-two others, left
the head-quarters of General Grant at Milliken's Bend,
Louisiana, to run the batteries of Vicksburg, Warrenton,
and Grand Gulf, where hostilities had already begun.
I had tried to run the batteries of Vicksburg before;
but circumstances interfered; and, as the Calvinists
would say, I was pre-ordained.
The expedition,-consisting of a steam-tug, the Sturges,
and two barges loaded with provisions and bales of hay,was very badly fitted out; the hay lying loosely about,
where any bursting shell might ignite it, and neither
buckets, in the very probable event of a conflagration,
nor small boats as a means of escape, having been provided.
In addition to this, the moon was at its full, whereas
the other battery-running expeditions had gone down on
dark nights; and, about the time we reached the point of




232


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


danger, was in the zenith of the heavens. The night was
as light as day.
As we sat smoking our cigars on the barges, we could
see every tree on the banks of the mighty river; and as
we neared the peninsula opposite Vicksburg, we could
observe the different streets and buildings of the city that
had so long defied the combined power of our army and
navy.
An officer with us had a bottle of Catawba, and as
there was some probability that, in the storm of shot and
shell which awaited us, its flavor might be damaged, we
quaffed its contents to the speedy downfall of the hostile
stronghold, and the early suppression of the Rebellion;
to the women we loved-dwellers in the region of the
Infinite-and to the consolation of the unfortunately married-surely a generous sentiment in favor of an ample
class.
Ours was indeed a merry party; and long shall I remember the agreeableness of the occasion before Rebel gunpowder interfered with its harmony.
We smoked, and laughed, and jested, and chatted, saying if that was to be our last appearance on any (earthly)
stage, that we would remember it with pleasure when
we obtained a new engagement-on some celestial newspaper.
There seemed no anxiety among our little band.
They had all volunteered, and were desirous of an adventure, which they had in extenso.
As we neared the hostile stronghold, we lighted fresh
cigars; destroyed our private correspondence; settled
our affairs, in the event of accident, after the Bohemian




THE CAPTURE.


233


fashion; and would have commended our souls to our
creditors, if we had known we had any-i. e., either the
one or the other-and our bodies to the classic process of
incremation.
The incremation process was a flight of romance. We
knew, if lost in the Mississippi, we would furnish cold
collations for catfish.
About midnight, or a little after, we were within a mile
and a half of Vicksburg by the bend of the river, but not
more than a quarter of that distance in a direct line, and
directly in range of the heavy batteries planted for several miles above, below, and in front of the town.
We were moving very little faster than the current of
the stream; and as we began to round the peninsula, the
trees on which had all been cut down, to give the enemy
an open space for the operation of his guns against approaching vessels, the Rebel pickets, who had most needlessly and very unwisely been permitted to cross the
river and take position on the Louisiana shore, gave the
alarm by discharging their muskets at us-without detriment, however-followed by a signal-rocket from the
city, and the opening of the fiery entertainment to which
we had invited ourselves on that bright, soft, delicious
night of May.
Now the heavy guns opened with their thunderous
roar, and the first struck one of the barges, as we knew
from the jar of the boat. " Well done for the Rebels,"
said we, admiring accuracy of aim even in our foes.
The truth was, the insurgents had, from various
causes, never had a fair opportunity on the previous
expeditions. The night had been dark; the artillery



234


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


men had not been on the alert; the guns had not been
well trained; the fuses had been defective.
That time, as we subsequently learned, the Rebels
were well prepared.  They had, from past experience,
obtained the exact range, and felt confident of blowing
any craft that made the venture out of the water. Certainly they made a good beginning, and we a bad end
of it.
The round-shot howled, and the shells shrieked over
our heads, and sometimes cut the straw of the hay-bales
in a manner calculated to give any one not entirely blas&
something of a sensation.
We tried to count the shots, but they were so rapid as
to defy our power of enumeration. I had witnessed a
number of heavy'bombardmients during the War, but had
hardly known more gunpowder to be burnt in the same
space of time.
All along the shore we saw the flashes of the guns.
The fire seem'ed to leap out of the strong earthworks
for at least a mile, and the bright and quiet statrs appeared to tremble before the bellowing of, the scores of
batteries.
Clouds of smoke rose along the river like a dense fog,
and the water and the atmosphere shook with reverberations.
Opposite Vicksburg the hMississippi is narrow and
deep, and at the same time was rather low, so that at
times, we were not more than three or four huindred
yards fronithe ten-inch guns.
It did seem strange our frail vessels, which were struck
again and again, were not blown to pieces. BRtt the little




THE CAPTURE.


235


tug-semi-occasionally we heard its quick, sharp puffpassed on and we were yet unharmed.
We had now passed the bend of the river just above
the city, where a sand-bar, on which we had been told
we would probably strike and ground, was plainly visible, and the greatest danger was over.
Still we moved on, and the Rebels, as if disappointed
and enraged, seemed to augment their efforts.
Faster and heavier the batteries thundered, and louder
howled the shot and shrieked the shell above, below,
around.
Again and again the shells burst over head, and the
iron fragments fell about the little crew; but no groans
nor cries were heard.   We seemed fated to run the
gantlet in safety,-to go beyond the power of harm.
For three-quarters of an hour we were under the
terrible fire, and were near the lower end of the city.
Another quarter would put us out of danger, for we
had passed t.he heaviest batteries.
Still the guns opposite, from above and below, belched
forth their iron messengers of death; and the stars
blinked, and the waters shook, and the sulphurous
mist crept like a troop of phantoms along the turbid
river.
Every moment we thought a shot might wreck our
expedition; but in the occasional pause of the artillery,
as I have said before, we could detect the rapid puff,
puff, puff of the little tug, which was the sure sign that
we still floated.
Suddenly a huge crash by our side, of wood and iron.
A deep and heavy and peculiar report. A rush of steam,
16




236


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


and a descending shower of cinders and ashes that
covered our persons.
We heard the puff of the tug no more; but in its place
went up a wild yell which we had often heard in the
front of battle-shrill, exultant, savage; so different from
the deep, manly, generous shout of the Union soldiers,
that we knew at once it was the triumphant acclamation
of our cruel foe.
The boiler of the tug had been exploded by a plunging
-shot from one of the upper batteries. The shot was acci-,dental, but extremely effective. It wrecked our expedition at once. After passing through the boiler, the shell,exploded in the furnaces, throwing the fires upon the
"-barges and igniting the loose hay immediately.
"The play is over," said Richardson; "Hand in your,checks, boys," exclaimed Colburn; "A change of base
for the Bohemians," remarked the undersigned; and we.glanced around, and heard the groans and sharp cries of
the wounded and the scalded.
We rushed forward to try and trample out the flames,
but they rose behind us like fiery serpents, and paled the
full-orbed moon, and lit up the dark waters of the Stygian river far and near.
The Rebels, who had ceased firing for a moment, now
bent themselves to their guns once more, and the iron
missiles swept over and around us, and several of the
soldiers on board were wounded by fragments of bursting shells.
Every one was now bent on saving himself. A few
of the privates and some of the tug's crew plunged
madly overboard, with fragments of the wreck in their




THE CAPTURE.


237


hands, and in three minutes none but the wounded and
the journalistic trio remained on the burning barges.
We threw the bales of hay into the river for the benefit
of the wounded and those who could not swim-for we
had early learned Leander's art-and then arranged our
own programme.
Richardson went off first on a bale of hay, from which
a large round-shot, passing near, and dashing a column
of spray into the air just beyond him, soon displaced his
corporeality.
Colburn followed; and I, seeing my field of operations
hemmed in by rapidly advancing fire, answered his summons, and dived, after divesting myself of all superfluous clothing, into the aqueous embrace of the Father
of Waters.
Several bales of hay were floating below, but I swam
to the one nearest Colburn, and there we concluded to
get beyond the town and pickets, and then, striking out
for the Louisiana shore, make our way as best we could
back to the army.
The Rebels had then ceased firing-certainly not for
humanity's sake, we thought-and the reason was patent
when we heard the sound of row-locks across the water.
The chivalrous whippers of women were evidently
coming to capture us.
My companion and myself believed if we kept very
quiet, and floated with our faces only out of the water,
we would not be discovered.
A yawl full of armed men passed near us, and we fancied we would escape.   Like the so-called "Confederacy," we wanted to be let alone.




238


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Just as we were internally congratulating ourselves, a
small boat darted round the corner of the burning barge,
and we were hauled in by a couple of stalwart fellows,
after the manner of colossal catfish, without even the
asking of our leave.
In fifteen minutes we were under guard on shore,
where we found our collaborateur Richardson safe and
sound.
About half our small crew had been killed and
wounded, and the rest were prisoners.
More unlucky than the defenders of Thermopylae-one
of them reached Sparta to bear the tidings-not one of
us returned to tell the story.
We were all reported lost, we learned afterward;
though General Sherman's humorous comment, when
apprised that three of* the Bohemians had been killed —
"That's good! We'll have dispatches now from hell
before breakfast" —did not prove a veracious prediction.
The gifted General's mistake arose from his confused
topography.
The army correspondents do not usually date their dispatthes at his head-quarters.
The Bohemians lost all their baggage; and I, having
prepared myself for Byronic exercise, went ashore with
nothing on but shirt and pantaloons.
Barefooted was I also, and I appeared most forlorn as I
walked in company with the others through the moonlit
streets of the town.
A sudden metamorphosis was ours, from freedom to
captivity; and we discovered by crossing the river
we had reached another phase of civilization.




THE CAPTURE.


239


We prisoners formed a sad and droll procession, as we
moved across the bayou towards the town.
A number of the captives were either wounded with
fragments of shell or scalded by the steam, and groaned
and wailed piteously as we walked along; while others,
barefooted, bareheaded, coatless, and begrimed with cinders and ashes, looked like Charon's ferrymen on a strike
for higher wages.
The author bore a close resemblance to old Time without his scythe, endeavoring to rejuvenate himself by
hydropathic treatment.
All of us, save the poor fellows who had been wounded and scalded, were in the best of spirits; and we
marched merrily through the streets, chatting and laughing at our mishap-which proved a farce, so far as we
the unhurt were concerned, for it was an escaped tragedy-and gayly speculating upon what would be the
next turn of Fortune.
The night was exceedingly lovely; and the moon
poured down its tranquil radiance, and the soft May
breezes kissed our brow and cheek, while we moved
through the Rebel town closely guarded, as if they
pitied our condition, and would have consoled us for our
ill-starred fate.




240


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER XXXIV.
OUR IMPRISONMENT AT VICKSBURG.
Consignment to a Mississippi Jail.-Repulsiveness of the Place.-Character
of the Inmates.-Rebel Idea of Comfortable Quarters.-A Fragrant Spot.Parole of the Captives.-Our Removal to the Court-House — Courteous Treatment.-Kindness of the Citizens.-Peculiarities of Union Men.-Miscomprehension of the Enemy.
ONE of my journalistic companions, when we were
examined by the Provost Marshal, before whom we were
taken as soon as we were collected on the shore, remarked, in a rather pompous and exacting tone: "Captain,
we have not slept much for two or three nights past, and
we would like to have as comfortable quarters as you
can give us."
The officer replied, that they were rather short of accommodations just then; but we should have as good as
the town afforded.
I can not for the life of me determine how the idea
crept into my brain; but I fancied that, at least for that
night, we (the officers and War-correspondents) would be
given a tolerable lodging-place.
Were my impressions well founded?
We shall see.
After our examination, we were marched out under
guard through several streets; and, at last, about dawn,
were stopped before a dingy iron gate and a dingier brick




OUR IMPRISONMENT AT VICKSBURG.


241


wall, which my recollections of the city taught me was
the jail.
There a bell was pulled, and we were admitted into
the yard by an ill-favored turnkey, who might have been
a pirate without doing any dishonor to his physiognomy.
We soon found he was in harmony with his surroundings.
The jail-yard was filled with thieves and malefactors
of every kind, Rebel deserters, and the riff-raff of the
pseudo   " Confederacy."   They were filthy, ragged,
coarse-featured, vile-spoken, and every way disgusting.
They slept on the ground, with very little, if any, covering, and cooked their fat bacon on sticks in the fire.
At least one-quarter of the inclosure was a sink dug
about the beginning of the War, and when the May sun
arose, hot and sultry in that latitude, the odor that permeated the place was most demoralizing. That huge
sink  emitted its reeking   odors towards the   starry
heavens in such intensity, that I imagined I saw the
glistening sentinels shudder and try to hold their celestial noses above that fragrant spot.
That certainly, we thought, was the place where Shakspeare declared the offense was rank and smelt to Heaven.
If rank, by the by, were as offensive as that Mississippi
vale of Cashmere, I am sure no one could hire any of our
little street-sweepers, for an ordinary sum, to be MajorGenerals.
We trio of Bohemians, who naturally had a love of
comfort, and even luxury, could not help but laugh at
the delicious locality into which we had been thrust, and




d242


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


the distinguished consideration with which we were received.
We concluded, if a man took excellent care of himself
there, he might live five or six days, which was a most
undesirable longevity in that fecundity of filth and Paradise of perfumes.
"Good quarters," laughed I to my companions, after
I had surveyed the yard: "By Jove, it would be delightful to go hence to Hades a while, for change."
We all laughed-a little sardonically, I suspect; but
what could we do else?
The idea of putting gentlemen in such a hole as that,
was like inviting Lucullus to a banquet in a sewer.
We were all new to prison-life in Secessia; and
many things struck us with abhorrence then, which we
afterwards learned to regard with resignation. Still, it
was not until some months after my removal to Richmond, that I witnessed any thing equal to the squalid
scenes of the Vicksburg Jail.
To complete the delightfulness of the place, I should
say the ground seemed covered with vermin, and the
prisoners there swarmed with them.
We had not at that time grown practical entomologists, nor had it become a daily duty to examine our garments in quest of insects that tortured us. And hence,
what we saw, filled us with excessive uneasiness.
We were afraid to sit down, or even to stand still, lest
we should be overrun; and so we continued to walk
backwards and forwards, with that aimless prison pace
that subsequently became so familiar.
Heroes of novels can not perish until the close of the




OUR IMPRISONMENT AT VICKSBURG.


243


last volume; and even we matter-of-fact gentlemen-two
of us at least-were spared. the very opposite of dying of
a rose in aromatic pain, and reserved by some ill-natured
divinity to pursue entomological researches, and eat cornbread and bacon in six other Southern Prisons.
Before npon of the 4th of May, the three Correspondents, and two officers of the Forty-Seventh Ohio, captured with us, were transferred to the Court-House, whose
dome we had so often seen from our camps across the
river, and were there paroled by Major Watts, the regular agent of exchange at Vicksburg, then the point of
exchange for the West.
He assured us we would be sent to Richmond, and
thence North by the first flag of truce; that the sole reason he did not return us to the Army from Vicksburg
was, that General Grant had refused to receive paroled
prisoners from that city. We believed the Major's story,
and understood our parole as a solemn covenant which
the Rebels and we were mutually bound to observe.
At the Court-House we had fresh air, and a fine view
of the Mississippi and much of the surrounding country
from the altitude of our position.  We could see our
transports across the Louisiana peninsula, and our camps
up the river from the Court-Room; and we felt not a
little annoyed that we were captives almost within musket-range of our friends.
The Rebel officers treated us with courtesy, when they
learned who we were.    Strange to say, not even the
name of The New York Tribune excited their anger,
although we had been assured by Southern Majors and
Colonels that if any of the Correspondents of that journal




244


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


were taken, they would be executed by the infuriated
soldiers.
The officers at Vicksburg did not offer to search our
persons, or even ask what we had upon them.
IThat was not their rule, however, as we learned from
a party of men captured after us. Those persons were
badly treated, and their money and other valuables stolen
-or, in other words, taken, with fair promises, but
never returned,
The three days we remained in Vicksburgh we were
visited by a great many officers and citizens, who showed
us all the courtesy we could have expected.
We were even taken out at night to the head-quarters
of Gefieral Officers, to be catechised about the opinions of
the people of the North respecting the duration of the
War; what the North intended to do with the Rebels
after they had been whipped; and, especially, what disposition the Yankees proposed to make of the negroes.
As we were New York journalists, and had been with
the Army from the breaking out of the War, the officers
attached some weight to our opinions; but if they
obtained any consolation from our responses, their consolation must certainly have appeared to them as a "blessing in disguise."
Some of the citizens who called on us offered to give us
clothes and lend us money, for which we thanked them,
but which we did not accept.
They were of course loyal at heart; and here let me say
that almost without an exception, during my captivity, I
found that the Southerners who revealed any humanity
or generosity of disposition were Union men; that their




OUR IMPRISONMENT AT VICKSBURG.


245


kindness was in proportion to their fealty to the Republic.
Secessionism, by some means that I wiHl not attempt to
explain, extinguishes, or at least represses, the better
qualities of our nature, and develops the worst elements
of human character.
It is quite possible, of course, for an honorable and
upright man to be a Rebel; but it is very difficult to find
one among the enemies of his country.
The few there are of the honorable-exception kind do
not gravitate to Prisons, I will be sworn; for Prison
attach6s in the South are generally men who have been
very little if at all in the field, with tyrannical, brutal,
and cruel dispositions, and so cowardly withal that they,will ever use their power harshly when they know they
can do so with impunity.
On the whole, we were as politely treated at Vicksburg
as we had any reason to expect; and we departed thence
with, the idea that the "Confederates" were not so bad
as they had been represented-a gross error, which we
had ample time to correct during the twenty months we
enjoyed their compulsory hospitality.
During our brief sojourn in the Southern stronghold,
we were rather lionized than otherwise. The papers
there spoke favorably of us, and complimented us upon
what they were pleased to term our singular fearlessness
in volunteering without any particular motive to go upon
so perilous an expedition. The editors paid us several
visits, and indeed we were the recipients of calls every
hour in the day.
At our quarters, in the upper part of the Court House,




246


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


we might have been said to be holding informal levees.
We were certainly regarded with no little curiosity and
some degree of admiration, for what the Rebel officers
insisted upon considering our devil-may-care spirit, and
thorough contempt for their powerful batteries.
One morning, having been invited to visit a General
up town, I was compelled to appear in the streets without shoes or hose. My feet, which at least were white,
and looked delicate, attracted the attention of some ladies
in front of the Court House, as I limped painfully over
the rough stones; and when I returned, I found they had
been kind enough to send me a pair of socks and shoes,
though I was compelled to buy the latter of the ProvostMarshal, who did not inform me they had been given me
by the generous-hearted women.
The Provost pretended, as all the Southerners who
have the least education do, to be a high-toned gentleman; and yet he could stoop to the petty meanness and
dishonesty of taking money from a prisoner of war for a
pair of shoes of which a lady had made him a present.
In Vicksburg I made some additions to my wardrobe,
having been "presented" with a dead soldier's cap by
the jailer, who afterward sent in his bill for the article;
and having borrowed a common military overcoat from
the assistant surgeon captured with us.
So attired, I traveled to Richmond in the uniform of a
private soldier-the first time I had ever donned a uniform-and on such an occasion I must say I was very
proud to wear the attire that our brave boys had made so
hateful to Rebel eyes, and so honorable in the eyes of the
Nation and the World.




AT JACKSON AND ATLANTA.


247


CHAPTER XXXV.
AT   JACKSON       AND    ATLANTA.
The Marble-Yard Prison.-Visit to the Appeal Office.-Kindness of the Editors.Tremendous Excitement and Panic at the Mississippi Capital.-A Terrified
and Fugacious Mayor.-The Mississippian Office Preparing for an Exodus.Curiosity Excited by the Yankees.-Southern Fondness for Discussion and
Rodomontade.-Our Continuous Inflictions along the Route.-Incidents of
the Journey.-The Whitehall Street Prison.-A Pertinacious Hibernian.Abusive Editorial in a Newspaper, and its Effects, etc.
ON the evening of the 5th of May, the two Ohio officers
and the Bohemians, with a number of privates, were sent
to Jackson, Mississippi, and for two days were treated
politely in the Marble-Yard Prison.
We were permitted to visit the Appeal Office-at last
accounts the    Memphis-Grenada-Jackson-Atlanta-Montgomery Appeal, very justly styled a moving Ap peal,
with whose editors we were personally acquainted before
the war-and to write notes to our friends in the North
that we were still among the living, instead of waltzing
obliviously with the catfish in the turbid eddies at the
bottom of the Mississippi.
We had no blankets, and had made no additions to our
wardrobe, and found it difficult to sleep in the rude
quarters assigned us, without even a stick of wood for a
pillow.
Still we were journeying toward Freedom, we fondly




248


FOUR YEARS IN SEOESSIA.


imagined, and could afford to put up with a few inconveniences.
The editors of the Appeal and one or two others treated
us very kindly, lent us money, and gave us such articles
as we most needed, for which we are still very grateful,
"because friends under such circumstances are friends
indeed.
Great excitement prevailed in the Mississippi Capital
at the time of our arrival, on account of the report that
General Grant, at the head of his victorious army-he had
then captured Grand Gulf-was marching on the town.
At the street corners were knots of excited men, discussing the prospects of the future with more feeling than
logic. To us, who had long been careful observers, it
was evident they were at a loss what to do; and you can
imagine we rather enjoyed the trepidation of the Rebels.
We saw a number of vehicles of various kinds loaded
with household furniture, and men, women, children, and
black servants, all greatly excited, moving rapidly out
of town.
A panic of the most decided kind existed among all
classes of society; but we had no difficulty in perceiving
that the negroes of both sexes, young and old, enjoyed
the quandary of their masters and mistresses.
Whenever we passed, they recognized us as Yankee
prisoners, and glanced at us with a meaning smile that
to us was perfectly intelligible.
The Mayor had put forth a gasconading hand-bill,
designed as a placebo, which was posted in prominent
parts of the capital, informing the citizens that there was
not the least cause for alarm; calling the people of Mis



AT JACKSON AND ATLANTA.


249


sissippi to arms, to repel the barbarous invader from the
soil he polluted with his footsteps, and all that sort of
stereotyped rant and braggadocio for which the South has
ever been famous.
The bellicose poster, so far as our observation extended,
did not seem to have the desired effect.
If the citizens were flying to arms, they must have concealed them somewhere in the country, and have been
making haste in that direction to recover them. They
were certainly leaving town by all possible routes, and
by every obtainable means of conveyance.
The Mayor, I subsequently learned through loyal citizens of Jackson, was himself a fugitive before the paste
on his defiant pronunciamiento was fairly dry. The office
of the Mississippian, one of the most virulent Secession
sheets in the whole South, was manifestly disturbed and
distressed, and not only contemplating, but indulging in,
an hegira to a safer quarter.
When we went by the office, there were cases of type
on the sidewalk ready for instant removal, and the entire
concern was in a palpable state of chaos and confusion.
Under the existing condition of affairs we were anxious
to tarry in Jackson, hoping we might very soon be
greeted with the music of Grant's guns.
We had no doubt then our parole would be observed;
but we preferred recapture to any regular release, and
we would much rather have rejoined the Union army at
once than be sent three or four thousand miles a roundabout way to accomplish the same purpose.
The Rebel officer, a Lieutenant of a Louisiana regiment,
no doubt feared our wishes might be realized, and hur



250


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


ried us away on the cars after we had passed two days
in the town. We had not been placed under guard, the
officer accompanying us merely as escort, nor were we
until we reached Atlanta.,long the route we had a great many privileges, and
could have escaped at any time, but having been paroled,
we considered ourselves bound by our parole, and
thought our best interest would be served by remaining
with our escort, and getting to Richmond as speedily as
possible.
When the cars stopped at the station for meals, we
repaired to them as if we had been traveling in the North,
without the least surveillance.
On the boat, at Selma, we wandered about wherever we
chose, as we had done at the village of W.est-Point,
Georgia, and other places.
In Montgomery, we put up at the Exchange Hotel, the
Rebel Lieutenant sleeping in a different part of the house
from where we lay; and in the evening, having stated
that we would like to bathe in the Alabama, he ordered
a corporal, without arms, to accompany us to the river,
and show us the best place in the vicinity for our
balneation
On the route we attracted a good deal of attention,
especially at the small way-stations; and whenever the
cars stopped any time, we were surrounded by persons
who plied us with questions, the chief of which were
those put to us at Vicksburgh, respecting the disposition
we would make of the Rebels after they were whipped,
and of the negroes after we had given them their freedom.
Our responses might not have been able; but they were




AT JACKSON AND ATLANTA.


251


certainly ultra, and more calculated, on the whole, to fire
than to freeze that much talked of portion of sectional
anatomy, the Southern heart.
The pragmatical fellows who gathered about us were
very anxious to discuss the main question, the causes of
the War, the wrongs of the South, the encroachments and
injustice of the North, and all the subjects that had been
argued to death before the secession of South Carolina.
We told them it was useless to employ logic then;
that bayonets and batteries had supplied the place of
argument; that the period for reasoning had passed; and
that the cause of the Republic had been submitted to the
arbitrament of arms.
They could hardly comprehend that very well; but
finding we would not revive and refute old and exploded
arguments, they assured us we never could conquer the
South; that we would have to kill every man, woman,
and child before we could subjugate the " Confederacy,"
and all that quintessence of bosh to which they seem so
indissolubly wedded.
Not being feminine, we grew weary of talking at last,
and were very desirous of some kind of privacy, and of
enjoying for a little while the luxury of silence. That
we discovered very difficult of obtaining.
We could not sit down under the trees as we did at
Montgomery, where we lay over on Sunday, without
gathering a crowd; and the officer with us was at last
forced to order peremptorily those resolved on our loquacious martyrdom to let us alone.
Gods! those were serious inflictions; and we concluded
we had rather run the batteries half a dozen times than
17




252


FOUR YEARS 11 SECESSIA.


undergo the boredom of talking to the countless fools we
met all the way between Vicksburgh and Richmond.
Speaking -of the Sunday we remained in Montgomery
reminds me of an incident that occurred while we were
strolling up the avenue toward the State House, in the
afternoon, which represents a peculiar phase of Southern
inconsistency.
As we passed a dwelling, a coarse, brutal-looking fellow thrust his head over a porch, and addressing a mulatto girl standing on the sidewalk, used the following
extraordinary language:
"Mary, G- d- your soul; have you said your
prayers to-day 2"
"No, master," in a tone quite free from the African
accent.
"Well, by G-, if you don't do it before to-morrow,
I'll lash the skin off your back, G- d-,you!"
So extraordinary was the language-so singular the
connection between the man's anxiety about Mary's
prayers and his excessive profanity, that we all looked
u1 in surprise, each one supposing he must have misunderstood the fellow.
On asking each other what the brute had said, we all
repeated the same language; and there can be no doubt
we interpreted his orthodox solicitude and his vulgar
swearing aright.
It is not at all unusual in the South, such intermixture
of professed Christianity with the violation of all practical morality and decency. Men who transgress all the
Commandments, will prate of God and the Bible very
flippantly, and denounce a gentle and generous skeptic,




AT JACKSON AND) ATLANTA.


253


whose life is entirely blameless, as violently as if he were
a poisoner or a parricide.
On the 9th of May we reached Atlanta, Georgia.
The Union soldiers were marched off under guard, the
Rebel Lieutenant accompanying them, and leaving us in
a sitting posture under a tree near the dep6t.
We sauntered about the city for a while, answering a
few questions asked by persons at the doors of the house~
we passed, and then repaired to the Whitehall-street
Prison, to which the privates had been consigned, to
inquire of our escort where we should stop, whether at
the Trout House or some other hotel.
SArrived at the Prison, the Lieutenant, somewhat to our
surprise, introduced us to Colonel somebody, the commandant, who invited us very politely to walk in.
We did so; the door closed behind us; the key turned
in the lock with a harsh and grating sound, and we were
in close confinement.
No one visited us during the days we passed there,
except a most pertinaciously offensive Hibernian, an
attache of the Prison, who entered every fifteen minutes
to inquire if we did not want some liquor, or other contraband article, which he was verywilling to get if we
would only be kind enough to pay him a "thrifle" for
his trouble.
Learning we did not wish any stimulant, he was very
anxious to exchange some Treasury Notes for Rebel currency, declaring he knew an ancient Israelite round the
corner who would give more for them than anybody in
the city.
We gave the Celtic individual some money to get




254


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


exchanged, and after trying to cheat us out of it by at
least a dozen ingenious manoeuvres and flagrant falsehoods, he at last succeeded, with the greatest difficulty,
and after the most untiring exertion, he said, in obtaining one dollar and three quarters of the scrip for one
dollar of our currency.
My associate of The Tribune, while we were standing
on the platform of the cars, going from Jackson to Meridian, had had his hat stolen from his head by a SouthCarolina Major moving rapidly by on a train passing
in an opposite direction.
That generous and chivalrous act, depriving my companion of any article of covering, reduced him to the
necessity of tying a handkerchief about his head, and of
subsequently employing the son of Erin as an agent to
replace his lost hat.
Various were the assumed or actual expeditions made
into the city by our Hibernian custodian to procure a
head-covering; and the things he brought in were grotesque enough.
Some of them looked like patent hen-coops; some like
dilapidated coal-scuttles; others like rat-traps on an
improved plan. Mr. Richardson tried them all on, and
suffered from a severe headache, and great demoralization
in consequence.
At last a cotton cap, dirt-color, and amorphous in
shape, was obtained-it reminded me of the head of the
woolly horse, as it would probably appear after it had
been struck by lightning-and worn by my friend for
many months after.
I always felt convinced that it was fortunate for the




AT JACKSON AND ATLANTA.


255


wearer he was in prison while under the influence of that
cap. Otherwise I think he must have turned highwayman, horsewhipped his father, murdered his grandmother, or committed some other outrage entirely foreign
to his nature.
The following Autumn the cotton anomaly passed into
the possession of an old and very honest farmer, confined
in Castle Thunder for his loyalty; and such was the
moral or rather immoral weight of the cap, that the grayhaired ruralist immediately began to steal.
Poor fellow, he was not to blame! Who could resist
so potent a pressure, such a thing of evil as that fleecy
abomination?
Up to that time we had traveled, as I have said, with
a Lieutenant, merely as escort; but an amiable and a
chivalrous article in the Confederacy-edited, I am
almost ashamed to say, by two Vermonters who had
been two years in the South-declaring Correspondents
the worst persons in the Army; that they, and we particularly, ought to be hanged; and that they (the editors)
would be only too happy to hold one end of the rope for
our hempen accommodation, caused us to be treated
somewhat rigorously, and marched through town, on
our way to the dep6t, under a heavy guard.
The two Lieutenants under whose escort we had traveled from Vicksburgh to Atlanta did not know much,
but they were at least respectful and courteous.
The third Lieutenant, who took charge of us from Atlanta, was a coarse, ignorant, brutal fellow, who endeavored to interest us by telling stories, to which the most
depraved females of Church-street would have declined




256


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


to listen, and to compensate himself for his entertainment
"by begging our knives and rings, or any of the few articles we had that attracted his fancy.
IAt the depot we were not even permitted to purchase
a paper; and the Lieutenant pretended, as did the commandant of the Prison, that we were in danger of
"being mobbed, on account of the odium excited against
us by the grossly abusive editorial in the Confederacy.
Whether there was or was not any ground for apprehension, I am unaware; but certainly we felt none; albeit
we deemed it quite in keeping with the generous conduct
of the Southerners to mob two or three prisoners of war
who were entirely unarmed, and therefore at their mercy.
No one threatened or attempted to harm us at Atlanta,
which place we left with no little satisfaction, because we
were getting so much nearer, as we fondly thought, to
our freedom.
Our journey to Richmond, by way of Knoxville, was
without accident or excitement.
We were bored as usual with questions as we stopped
at the stations, and greatly fatigued, on reaching what
was the Rebel capital, from riding in box, platform, hog
and cattle cars, night and day, without any opportunity
or means of sleeping, and at about as rapid a rate as that
of a towboat on the Erie canal.




THE LIBBY PRISON.


257


CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE   LIBBY     PRISON.
Arrival at Richmond.-Our Reception from the Union Officers.-Mistaken Idea
about Human Endurance.-The First Shock in Prison.-Entomological Researches.-Sickness and Sentiment.-Violation of the Tribune Correspondents'
Paroles.-Character of the Rebel Commissioner.-Determination of the Enemy
to Hold us to the End of the War.
tARRIVED at Richmond, about daylight on the morning
of the 16th of May, the journalistic trio were told that
they must become inmates of the notorious Libby Prison
until the flag-of-truce-boat came up, which would be in a
day or two, when we would be sent North.
While we stood in Carey street, near the corner of
Twenty-first, the Union officers in the upper part of the
building looked out of the windows, and cried "fresh
fish! fresh fish!" with a vigor of tone and an unction that
I must say disgusted me to a point of indignation.
I thought men who could make stupid jests in such a
dismal building as the Libby seemed to be, from an external view, ought to be kept there for life.
They certainly looked distressed enough to be dignified;
and I was anxious the dramatic proprieties should be
observed.
Ushered into the officers' quarters, we were loudly
greeted with " Halloo, Yanks!" and plied with questions
concerning the place, mode, and time of our capture.




258


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


The Libby, though bad enough, was not so bad as I
had anticipated. The floor was clean and the walls were
whitewashed; but I thought if I were compelled to
remain there a month, I should die outright.
How little we know of ourselves!
I passed sixteen months in places far worse than thatin rat-holes, and damp cellars, and noisome cells; and yet
resolved to survive the Rebellion if I were allowed half
a chance.
And, thanks to an elastic constitution, which, by the
by, required no anti-slavery amendments, and the practice of a daily philosophy of the Xenocratic sort-to use
the politician's interpretation of Webster's last words"I am not dead yet."
What first shocked me in the Libby more than aught
else was, that my fellow-prisoners, at least once a day,
thoroughly examined their garments, for what purpose I
will not be unpoetic enough to state-and accompanied
their researches with much profanity and considerable
phlebotomy.
A few hours proved the urgent necessity of the custom,
and from that time until after my escape I made a quotidian investigation-in which, like a jealous husband, I
looked for what I feared to find-that never failed to fill
me with aversion and disgust.
I envied the Emperor Julian's indifference on a subject
which no man less great than he could possibly feel.
(Ihe fact, too, that the prisoners were obliged to cook
such little food as they could procure, wash dishes, clean
floors, and do the general work of scullions, as I have
mentioned in detail elsewhere, and all under the most




THE LIBBY PRISON.


259


adverse circumstances, rendered me a very rebellious
loyalist; and, in connection with a system not yet fully
recovered from an attack of intermittent fever in the
Louisiana swamps, prostrated me, before two days were
over, on the bare floor, with flaming blood and a burning
brain.
Sickness was somewhat new to me, and sickness there
was a sensation one would not care to have repeated,
I am not much given to Sentiment; but those dreary
walls and hard floors, that rough fare and desolate captivity, suggested their opposites, and brought to mind soft
couches and softer hands, sweet voices and cooling
draughts, thoughts of the Beautiful and memories of Sympathy, that were a torment and a torture there.
"Sick and in Prison, and you visited me not."   I
found a meaning in those simple words I had not before
discovered, and felt in my inmost soul how dreadful an
accusation that would be against a heart that had ever
assumed to love.
On the 21st of May, the truce-boat reached City
Point, and on the day following all the persons captured
on our expedition were sent off, except myself and my
confrere of the New York Tribune. The enemy kept faith
with them, and broke it with us; evidently believing
that Tribune men had no rights he was bound to respect.
Commissioner Ould, when asked by our journalistic
friend if he did not design releasing us also, replied, with
as many oaths as Hector McTurk, that we were the very
men he wanted and intended to keep; that he would
hold us until a certain fabulous number of innocent Con



260


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


federates in Northern bastiles were set free; and vaguely
intimated that we should stay in prison until skating
became a popular amusement in the Bottomless Pit.
When my collaborateur and I were informed of that
shameful violation of faith, we knew our case was hopeless; that the Tribune correspondents were in for the
War; that no substitutes could be obtained, and that no
self-sacrificing and intelligent contrabands need apply.
Subsequently, desirous of obtaining some official repudiation of our paroles, we put th.em in the hands of an
attorney, and stated our case to him. He declared we
were unjustly detained; that no prisoner regularly
paroled, as we were, had ever before been held; but that,
as we belonged to the Tribune, he could do nothing for us.
Nor could he.
Ould, with the unbounded effrontery and superlative
falsification that characterize him  even above other
Rebels, declared Major Watts had no right to parole us,
and if he had had the right, he (Ould) would have possessed the authority to revoke the parole.
Eminent descendant of Ananias, like Ferdinand of
Arragon, he only values a promise for the pleasure he
experiences in breaking it.
Trickster, hypocrite, and liar, he represents each character so well that it is impossible to determine in which
he excels; nor has he in any one of them any equal but
himself.
He is one of the loudest mouthers about Chivalry and
Honor in the American Gascony; and yet the only idea
he can have of either of those much-abused terms is by
practicing their opposites.




THE LIBBY PRISON.


261


When our case was referred to the Southern Secretary
of War, in an unanswerable memorial, the following
October-that we might have all the official evidence possible of the perfidy of the Rebels-Mr. Seddon's sole
answer was our consignment to the Salisbury (N. C.)
Penitentiary, as general hostages for the good conduct of
the Government.
Who ever heard of making a pair of individuals hostages for the conduct of a Nation?
Of course the thing was a farce.
The Rebels only used that form that they might retain
us to the end of the War.
They might as well have held a box of sardines for the
preservation of the morals of Sardinia; and they knew it;
but they employed the phrase with all seriousness, and
packed us off to Salisbury accordingly.
I mention these circumstances to show the animus of
the Richmond authorities toward the Tribune men, and,
if I must be entirely candid, out of pride at the high, but,
I hope, deserved compliment they paid us.
( Never during the War have I known of another instance
in which prisoners have been held, as we were, who had
been paroled regularly by an accredited agent of exchange
at a regular point of exchange.
For the most honorable exception made in our favor, I
feel thankful to the Rebels, generally and individually.
Their whole history is one of inhumanity, and their
name is Perfidy; yet are they prolific of excuses and
explanations for their perfidious conduct, as may be seen
by a single instance.
When I asked Major Thomas P. Turner, the Command



262           FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.
ant, if he was aware we were paroled, and had the paroles
in our pockets-" Oh, that makes no difference," he replied; "your paroles do not go into effect until after you
are on the truce-boat."
" C What in Heaven's name do we want of paroles when
we are on the truce-boat?" inquired I. "That is like
telling a criminal sentenced to execution that he is pardoned, but that he is not to be benefited by his pardon
until after he has been hanged an hour."
When Major Turner is hanged, as I am quite sure he
ought to be, I trust he will be pardoned with that special
proviso.




LIBBY PRISON.


263


CHAPTER XXXVII.
LIBBY   PRISON.
Arrival and Release of Union Officers.-Therapeutic Power of the Fall of Vicksburg.-Its Wholesome Effect on the Prisoners.-Gradual Resignation to Confinement.-Means of Killing Time.-Journalistic Desire to Write, and the
Impossibility of its Indulgence.-Exhibition of the Loyal Captives.-Summer
Costumes.-Cruelty of our Keepers.-Petty Meanness of the Commandant.The Drawing of Lots.-Horror of the Scene.-Barbarous Treatment of Citizens.-Consideratiorf Shown the Officers.-Removal of The Tribune Correspondents.
WHEN     we first reached the Libby, not more than
seventy or eighty officers were confined there, mostly
prisoners taken at Chancellorsville; but on the afternoon of the day of our arrival, Colonel A. B. Streight
and his command joined us; and in a day or two more,
Captain George Brown, of the gunboat Indianola, and
his officers, were added to the number, making about one
hundred and seventy-five in all. All of us felt very
gloomy, at least; but we kept up a cheerful exterior, and
endeavored to make the best of our very obnoxious surroundings.
About the 1st of June, the Chancellorsville and naval
captives were released.       I remember the latter were
quite demonstrative over the prospect of their return to
freedom; so much so that I expressed to my confrere




264


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


my surprise at their lack of self-discipline. "You must
remember, Junius, they have been prisoners for three
months," was his answer; and, on reflection, I ceased to
marvel at their display of excessive joy.
Three months in Prison! What an age it seemed! I
did not believe I could endure close confinement so long
as that: I supposed I must die perforce before a similar
period had elapsed. How little do we know ourselvesleast of all, what we can bear of trial and of suffering!
The loss of my freedom and the uncertainty of its
restoration, with the close atmosphere and the hateful
surroundings of the Prison, were, as I have said, too
much for me. My system gave way, and ere a week
had passed I was prostrate on the floor with a raging
fever.  Those who felt any interest in me became
alarmed, thinking I would die in that wretched place. I
did not share their apprehensions. My opposition was
excited, and I determined to live if I could, and part
with my soul under better auspices.
Through eight weeks I suffered, and yet took no medicine; trusting to the.best of physicians, Nature, for my
healing.
I was cured at last in an unexpected, but most agreeable way.
We were all anxious about Vicksburg, hearing, as we
did through the Richmond papers, that Johnston was
besieging Grant in turn, and would soon have him between two hostile armies.
On the afternoon of July 8th, while I lay tossing with
fever on my blankets in the hot, confined, unwholesome
atmosphere of the Prison, a negro came up stairs and




LIBBY PRISON.


265


told us Vicksburg was in our hands. The effect was
instantaneous with me.
No cordial of Zanoni's could better have done its
therapeutic errand.
I rose at once, and joined in a tremendous chorus of
the " Star Spangled Banner," which made the air vibrate,
and, pouring out into the street, caused one of the Rebel
officers below to say: "Do you hear that? Those d-d
Yankees must have got the news."
That news, so glorious, proved more potent than an
Arabian philter. I had no fever nor ailment of any kind
for many a long month after.
The fall of Vicksburg gave me a new lease of life, and
strengthened the hearts of the Union prisoners to endure,
like the blast of a defiant bugle in the hour of defeat.
That was a happy evening for us, even in Prison. We
all said we could afford to be captives as long as the
Rebels were soundly whipped; and not a few declared
the fall of Vicksburg worth twelve months of freedom.
We sat up till midnight, and awoke the echoes of that
quarter of Richmond with the most vociferous singing
of National airs, not forgetting" John Brown's body,"
which was especially obnoxious to the Rebels, and therefore particularly agreeable to us.
We could hear the insurgent officers swearing beneath
our windows in the pauses of silence; but their curses
were music to our ears, and we chanted louder and more
defiantly than before.
Though the Libby, materially considered, was the least
bad Prison of the seven in which I was confined in the
South, it seemed often that I must die or grow insane




266


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


there. We had a few books, but I could not read, and I
was afraid to think any more than I could avoid, for
thought became brooding, and brooding misery, and
despair.
When the fever was not upon me,.I tried every way
to dissipate the dark and haunting fancies, the desolate
and despondent feelings, that crowded upon my brain
and heart. I tried tobacco for consolation, and, lighting
a common clay pipe, I would pace the floor for hours, to
and fro, in company with some of the officers, talking of
the Past and speculating on the Future. How weary
and monotonous was that walk over that wide Prison
floor! How it grew into, and became a part of, my life!
My blood leaped and my soul sickened when I stared
into the unborn days, and saw no one through which the
light of liberty streamed. Weary, worn, restless, I often
pressed my pale face against the window-bars and gazed
across the river, to the South, at the green slopes and cool
forests, that seemed so sweet and refreshing and delicious
in the distance. To walk there appeared like Paradise;
for there was no restraint, no compulsion. How I longed
for the magic tapestry in the Arabian tale, which could
transport me where I willed!
At last I began, by slow degrees, to accustom myself
to my unnatural situation. I reflected on all the philosophic theories I had entertained, on all the stoical principles I had tried to cultivate, and determined to steel
myself to the necessities of the occasion. The determination brought its fruit. Will bountifully repaid me for
its exercise. I found, after a few weeks, I could read,
and reading was a great consolation. It aided me to




LIBBY PRISON.


267


strangle the pangful hours; to prevent constant introspection; to turn back the surging tide that threatened at
times to deprive me of reason.
All the day, when I was not compelled to be in the
kitchen, I stretched myself on my blankets near the window, and strove to forget myself in the pages before me.
I could do that but partially; yet it was a great relief;
and I was very thankful I had early formed the habit of
seeking society in books. After dark we had no lights,
unless a small tallow candle, which we were compelled to
extinguish at nine o' clock, could be called so; and then
a few of us would get together, and talk far into the
night.
Fortunately for me, I slept well at that period, and realized in dreams what Fortune denied me. Every night
I was free. The body could be imprisoned, but the
Rebels could not fetter the spirit. That returned to the
dear old North, and dwelt during the sweet hours of
slumber amid the scenes it once had loved. So much did
I dream of freedom, that, at last, I lost all faith in my visions of the night; knowing they were delusions even
while I was under their influence.
When I fancied myself in converse with my intimates;
sitting at a luxurious board; surrounded by objects of
beauty; joyous amid the joyful, it was most painful to
awake and behold the familiar beams above my head,
and the rafters of the roof, and the hateful walls of the
Libby. I had suffered in that way so often that my
reason would no longer succumb to my imagination; and
when pleasant and sympathetic voices seemed to fall upon
my ear, I knew they were recollections, not realizations,
18




268


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


the reflected desires of my own, not the outpouring of
another, heart.
As prisoners gathered to the Libby, as they did from
Winchester and Gettysburg, greater efforts were made
for passing the time resignedly and profitably. Classes
in Latin, French, and German were established; books
were procured in quantities in the city; debating societies were formed, and manuscript papers begun. I confess I had not the heart, nor was I in the mental condition,
to take advantage of those means to lighten the burdens
of confinement; but my collaborateur, Mr. Richardson,
recreated himself frequently in the debating society, and
became the most prominent of its members; drawing the
officers largely whenever it was known he would participate in the discussion.
IHad I possessed the facilities, I should have liked to
write something; but how could I do so when we had no
tables, except the rough boards from which we ate, and
they were always in use; no chairs, or stools, or boxes
~even, to sit upon; no space, however small, which was
free from invasion and disturbance?.  he book I would
have written would not have been oi prison-life, or had
aught to do with prisons: it would have been something
like a novel of society, and filled, I fancy, with misanthropy and bitterness, combined with soft imaginings and
voluptuous coloring-the one produced immediately by
the scenes about me; the other, through contrast with
them.
Reading, smoking, talking, scrubbing, walking, and
cooking, made up my slender existence in the Libby.
Many of the officers were gentlemen of intellect, culture,




LIBBY PRISON.


269


taste, and breeding; but some, unfortunately, were so
destitute of dignity and manners that we were compelled
to blush for them when prominent Rebels, either in military or civil life, were brought into the Prison, as they
frequently were, by Major-then Captain-Thomas P.
Turner, commandant-to see the collection of Yankee curiosities. The Rebels would walk about the rooms very
much as if they were in a zoological garden, and this
General, that Colonel, or that Major, was pointed out as
would be a Bengal tiger, an African giraffe, or a Polar
bear.
Colonel Streight, while we were in the Libby, was
the principal lion. The Richmond papers had abused
him so much, though for what reason it was impossible
to conjecture, that they had rendered him famous. He
had failed on his raid, through lack of fresh animals, to
strike the enemy the severe blow he had intended; but
he was hated as heartily as if he had been altogether successful.  The hatred of the "chivalry" disturbed him
very little, however: indeed, I am quite confident he
enjoyed it; and hated them back with an intensity that
must have left some margin in his favor.
Of course The Tribune correspondents had their share
of attention, and were occasionally exhibited among the
Northern monstrosities. Had we been statues we could,
not have been more frozen and formal to the hostile visitors or the attaches of the prison. We never spoke to
any of them, save in the way of business inquiry, unless
we were addressed, and then briefly and pertinently as
possible. They generally knew our status, antecedents,
and opinions-and if they did not they could easily have




270


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


discovered them-and therefore questioned us very little
respecting our views and expectations. We were freed
from the perpetual annoyances to which we had been
subjected on the way to Richmond, and we profoundly
appreciated the relief.
Various were the methods the officers adopted to pass
the time. Those of a lymphatic temperament slept about
fifteen or eighteen hours out of the twenty-four. I Those
of a very nervous and active mental organization played
cards-poker, euchre, and whist-checkers, and backgammon; wrestled, romped, and skylarked-as the. sailors term  it-read and talked about past campaigns
and future prospects; crushing the Rebellion, and settling the affairs of the Nation, every few hours of the day
The weather was very warm and sultry, and in the
Prison, of course, extremely close, and sometimes stifling.
We were accustomed, consequently, to wear as few
clothes as possible, but went around in nothing but drawers and shirt, without shoes, and, sometimes, even with
less attire. Fortunately, there was a, bathing-tub in our
quarters, and somebody was in it all the while. At any
hour of the night we could hear the water running, and
the splashing and plunging of the aqueous enjoyers.
No doubt that had much to do with our health, which,
contrary to all expectation, was quite good throughout
the Summer     There were few deaths during the four
months of my incarceration, and not much serious illness.
Very strange it was so, when we remember how impure
and vitiated the atmosphere was, and how little care and
comfort we could obtain when once sick.
During the mid-Summer some of us profited by a ladder




LIBBY PRISON.


271


leading to the roof of the building, by which the subordinates of the Prison ascended for the purpose of raising
and taking down the " Confederate" flag that flew every
day over the Libby. When we went to the hole cut in
the roof for ventilation, and placed our faces over it, the
air from below was so corrupt, heated, and steam-like,
as to almost suffocate us; and yet in that atmosphere we
were forced to live, and breathe, and have our being.
When it was discovered that we were obtaining a little
fresh air after sunset upon the roof, our cruel custodians
ordered us down, and threatened to punish us severely
and close the aperture for ventilation if we persisted in
going up there. They even did fasten down the skylight for a fortnight, at the most torrid season of the year,
because some unfortunate had disobeyed orders.
That was a fair specimen of the cruelty of our keepers.
We did no harm on the roof; no one could even see us
there from the town; and yet they would not permit us
to enjoy the blueness of the sky and the genial air of the
evening, when they knew we were gasping and panting
in our mephitic quarters for the very thing they denied us.
Shame, shame, upon such inexcusable barbarity, such
motiveless cruelty!
Soon after our arrival in Richmond, a paragraph was
copied from The Tribune into the papers there, speaking
of Major Turner as the "infernal brute that commanded
the Libby." At that time Turner had not revealed himself, and I supposed the denunciation unmerited. One
day, in conversation with the Major on this subject, he
remarked, that if he were caught in New York he would
probably be hanged. I told him I thought not; that he




FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


had no doubt been misrepresented, as I believed then he
had. Subsequently I learned better; and now I indorse
the paragraph in question most fully and cordially.
I think if justice were meted out to Major Turner, he
"would be executed summarily, and that the Prison Inspector, one Richard Turner -no relative of the commandant's, but formerly a Baltimore blackguard, and
aspirant for the honors of Plug-uglyism-and a little
puppy named Ross, once a resident of New York, would
share his fate. They did every thing in their power to
persecute prisoners, and richly deserve death at the hands
of those they treated so cruelly. Major Turner did not
do harsh things himself, so far as I knew; he was too
politic for that; but he permitted them  to be done,
and is, of course, responsible for the outrages, and they
were many, practiced upon the captives under his
charge.
Speaking of him, he was guilty of a very small, but
entirely characteristic meanness towards us. When Mr.
Colburn of The World was released, he very kindly left
$50 in Treasury Notes with Major Norris for our use, as
we were likely to remain in durance for an indefinite
period. Major Norris handed the amount to Major Turner, who informed us there were $50 in " Confederate"
currency in his office to our credit. I told him Mr. Colburn
had agreed to leave us the sum in our money, which, as
he was aware, was worth far more than the issues of the
South. The Major replied, somewhat nervously, that the
notes handed to him were "Confederate;" and that was
all he knew about it. He simply told a deliberate falsehood for the purpose of cheating us out of a few dollars.




LIBBY PRISON.


273


And yet he assumes to be a high-toned, honorable gentleman; and, according to the Southern standard, perhaps
he is.
During our confinement at the Libby, Captains Flinn
and Sawyer were selected by lot to be executed, in retaliation for two Kentuckians whom General Burnside had
caused to be shot for recruiting within our lines.
Well do I remember the morning-it was during the
latter part of June, I think-the Captains were called out
of their quarters. They hurried down stairs gayly, and
even boisterously, supposing they were to be paroled.
They were taken into a vacant room on the lower floor of
the prison, formed in a hollow square, and there informed
solemnly and impressively, by Major Turner-even he
seemed moved on the occasion —that he had a very
painful duty to perform, at the same time reading an
order from General Winder to select two of the officers
present for immediate execution.
Imagine the sensations of the Captains-some fifty in
number-at that moment! What a terrible reaction must
have followed! What an icy chill of horror must that
announcement have struck to their hearts, swelling a few
minutes before with the hope of early restoration to freedom.
It was not the fear of death that blanched so many warworn cheeks, and shook so many brave hearts; it was the
suddenness, the" horror of the idea-the cold, deliberate
determination, by lot, of a violent death to two of their
innocent companions-in-arms.
One of our chaplains was requested to draw the names
that had been written on slips of paper and thrown into a




274


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


box, and the first two were to be the victims. One might
have heard the fall of a rose-leaf at that awful moment.
Every breath seemed suspended; every heart bursting
with its pulsation. Eyes kindled with burning anxiety,
and lips quivered with sappressed emotion. Fearful
scene! who can forget it?
The names were drawn and announced; and that
hollow square took a long breath that was audible in
the painfully silent room. The selected Captains did not
change countenance. They were pale before; but they
turned no paler. Their mouths closed more firmly, as if
they were summoning the resolution of brave men to die
bravely, and they walked mournfully, though silently,
away.
They were taken before General Winder-I am very glad
he is dead-who abused them shamefully when he knew
they believed they had only a few days, perhaps hours, to
live-and thence removed to the subterranean dungeons of the Libby. Every one knows how General Lee,
the son of Robert E. Lee, and Captain Winder were made
hostages for Flinn and Sawyer, and how the Rebel authorities finally released the chosen victims, although the
Richmond papers clamored for their blood, and bitterly
denounced Jefferson Davis because he did not dare to execute them. As I told them they would, the very day of
their allotment, they obtained their freedom long before
The Tribune Correspondents; and yet their position was
by no means pleasant. The Rebels were growing desperate even then; and it was not unreasonable to suppose
they might attempt the inauguration of a bloody retaliation in the hope of compelling, what they had otherwise




LIBBY PRISON.


275


failed to secure, the interference of European powers for
the sake of humanity.
The day of the drawing was a gloomy one in the Libby.
We all felt if the Captains were executed, that no one was
safe; that retaliation once begun, no one could say where
it would end.
Mr. Richardson and myself knew our prospects would
"be unusually brilliant for sudden removal from the terrestrial ball, if the execution of prisoners once became the
fashion; and we discussed with a grim kind of humor the
sensations we would possibly experience when we were
led out to be shot or hanged. I expressed a decided partiality for shooting, as more military, genteel, and dramatic;
and denounced hanging as an undignified and ungentlemanly mode of exit even out of Rebeldom. I remembered what a strong bias I had always had against the
gallows, and began to believe that the early developed
feeling was a premonition of my fate. I lost no sleep,
however, over the matter. I had as much as I could do
to live there, anyhow, and concluded, if I had to stay in
Southern prisons for many months, hanging might not be
so bad, after all.
On the 2d of September, 1863, we were transferred from
the Libby to Castle Thunder —a movement we by no
means relished, as the reputation of the Castle was extremely bad even in Richmond-but of which, of course,
we would have been too proud to complain, even if complaining had been of any advantage.
To leave the officers with whom we had been for four
months, and among whom we had many warm friends,
was a sore trial, especially when we were going to a place




276


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


where the worst class of prisoners was kept; but we
"bundled up our blankets; shook hands with hundreds of
men whose countenances we could not recognize in the
crowd; and hurried down stairs into Carey street, to gaze
at the pallid faces peering at us through the bars, and
wishing us good fortune wherever we might go.
The Libby, as I have said, was the most endurable
prison of which we were inmates; and I may here state
that our officers were in every way better treated than any
other class of prisoners. Indeed, they can have little idea
of the sufferings of captives in the South, judging by their
own experience. Citizens who were held in another part
of the Libby, while we were there, were most inhumanly
treated: they were not allowed to purchase any thing,
though their rations were so short that they were constantly hungry, and we, in the officers' quarters, supplied
them surreptitiously with bread and a few of the common
necessities of existence, which they devoured like famishing men.
The Southerners have such love of approbation, and
draw the line so markedly between gentlemen and commoners, that they hesitate 'o show to the officers, supposed
by the Army Regulations to be of a different race from the
privates, the worst side of their character. Beyond the
petty tyranny, superciliousness, and generally offensive
bearing of the officials at the Libby, we had, during our
stay, little to complain of, at least compared to what we
saw and suffered elsewhere in Secessia.




THE KITCHEN CABINET AT THE LIBBY.


277


CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE KITCHEN CABINET AT THE LIBBY.
Disappointment and Disgust in Prison Life.-The Union Officers as Servants and
Scullions.-Journalistic Cooking and its Trials.-The First Breakfast.-Horrors
of the Culinary Art.-Interior View of the Kitchen.-Grotesque and Mortifying
Scenes.-Battles of the Saucepans and Skillets.-Complaint, Clamor, and Confusion.
BEFORE my capture, I had imagined all manner of
repulsive surroundings and annoying incidents in Rebel
Prison; but I had supposed that War-captives were
at least allowed full leisure, as some compensation for the
loss of freedom.
VTien I reached the Libby Prison, I was surprised
and exceedingly indignant to learn that it was-the duty
of the Officers, the Correspondents of the Tribune included, to clean their own quarters and prepare their
own food.
That seemed an outrage upon propriety, designed to
degrade gentlemen by association, education, and profession, to the rank of cooks and scullions, and filled me
with a violently insurgent spirit,
When I came to reflect, however, that what we did
was for our own good; that we preserved our health and
insured our comparative comfort by attending to those
really menial offices, I grew reasonably resigned.




278


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Subsequently, when I burst into an expression of anger
and disgust to the Commandant of the Libby one day, he
informed me he would be glad to cook our rations, but
that the Officers generally preferred to prepare them for
themselves.
That statement-very remarkable do I regard the fact
-I found to be true.
The rations-bread, bacon, and rice at the time-were
so vilely cooked by the negroes, that the Officers had
requested permission to perform the culinary duties, and
obtained it.
They disliked watery soup, with dirt, hemp, pebbles,
and roaches as condiments, and muscular beef boiled
to superlative dryness. They believed they could support life by the consumption of less dirt, if they took the
matter into their own hands; and they deemed the
experiment worth trying.
The officers were divided into large and small messesthe former containing twenty to thirty, and the latter four
to six members-and every day one or more of the members was appointed to do the cooking and dish-washing,
and perform the other poetic et ceteras for the twenty-four
hours.
The third day, it came my turn to preside over the
destinies of the Kitchen; and most alarming was the
announcement.
I would rather have attempted to capture Richmond,
or pay off the National Debt, or be happy in the Libby;
but, as I could employ no substitute, I was bound to rely
on myself.
The cooking was not very extensive, nor were the




THE KITCHEN CABINET AT THE LIBBY.


279


means; but I felt as awkward as if I were about to address
the Tycoon in Japanese.
Imagine the situation of an unfortunate mortal who not
only had never done any thing of the kind, but had never
seen it done.
The stewing of "Saddle-Rocks" in a chafing-dish, or
the preparation of a lobster salad, was as far as I had
ever advanced in the mysteries of the cuisine.
If I could have had another wish beside that for my
liberty, I would have asked to be metamorphosed into
the humblest of cooks.
There was no use of fretting.
Complaint never cooked a piece of bacon, nor made a
fire in a broken stove.
I set to work; my companions, who had had their
experience, laughing at my earnest endeavors, and my
ill-concealed disgust.
There were very few dishes; the stoves were in a
wretched condition; the wood was green; the bacon was
tough; and my knife was dull.
After laboring an hour, the perspiration streaming
down my face, I succeeded in getting some pieces of
bacon over the fire, and spilling the grease upon the
only pantaloons I possessed. In another hour I had
fried some bread in the pan, and at the close of the
third I had boiled a little water impregnated with burnt
corn, which the Rebels, with a delightful idealism,
termed coffee.
We stood up to breakfast,-memories of the Fifth
Avenue and Delmonico's, come not near!-one tin dish,
a block of wood, and a piece of brown paper serving as




280


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


the plates; a pen-blade, our fingers, and a sharp stick, as
knives and forks.
I was very hungry when I undertook the matutinal
meal; but my efforts had destroyed my appetite.
I stood and looked on the rough board that served for
a table, and if I had been a woman I presume I should
have wept like Niobe, and declared I would be a nun.
Again and again I had to cook that day, which seemed
as if it would never end; and though for four months I
sacrificed myself on the altar of the Kitchen, I never
became reconciled to the ultra-prosaic obligation.
Heavy and desolate as was Prison life, the hours that
divided me from my cooking-day appeared like minutes,
when I thought of that dire necessity.
From seven o'clock in the morning until quite dark I
then passed in the Kitchen; watching my opportunity
to get some vesAel on one of the fractured stoves, and
seeing that no one took it off when it was once on.
Cooking at the Libby was a perpetual struggle, jarring, tumult, and annoyance; not infrequently involving
a personal encounter.
A man who could have preserved his temper there
would have excelled human nature.
The process of operating in the kitchen would have
irritated a saint, and made Fe6nlon blasphemous.
Just picture the place to yourself.
In a room twelve by twenty feet were three broken
stoves, in which at least seven or eight hundred men had
to cook. The pans, pails, and cups were very few; not
one where twenty were needed.
The stoves smoked like Vesuvius; the apartment was




THE KITCHEN CABINET AT THE LIBBY.


281


always sky-color; the atmosphere hot and pine-impregnated to suffocation.
One was required to wait sometimes an hour before he
could get a place on the stove; and, as soon as had, he
was likely to lose it by some other person removing his
dish, and putting his own in its stead.
One could not lay down a knife or fork without missing it; could not turn his back without being deprived
of some portion of his rights.
I would have liked to see the South try to get its
rights there.
Astraea herself could not have obtained hers.
Under such circumstances there was constant bickering, wrangling, and contention, with more violations of
the Third Commandment than I care to record.
Threats were made, insults offered, and even blows
exchanged; all of which appears now very silly and
undignified; but then I did not wonder at it.
We were all in a condition of suppressed irritation.
Our nerves were morbidly acute. The law of our Being
read backwards. Our temperament was revolutionized.
We were disposed to visit on each other what under different circumstances would have been visited on the
common foe.
The mishaps and contretemps of the Kitchen were too
numerous to mention, and, to a man who could keep his
temper, exceedingly ludicrous.
It was singular, such was the aggravation and provocation at all times, that there were so few actual pugilistic engagements. We had a hundred incipient affairs of
the kind every day, and several personal encounters




282


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


"were usually generated out of that number. Generally,
however, the bitterness of feeling wasted    itself in
words.
All the prisoners felt that it was disgraceful for officers
of the United States Army to be engaged in personal
quarrels; but when a man had his vessel, which he had
been two hours in getting, stolen almost before his eyes;
had hot soup poured down his back; scalding coffee
turned into his boots; or his rice-pail filled with potatoes; was it strange that he was deprived of his amiability, and ventured the assertion that he could whip
somebody-it mattered not whom
The scenes that occurred there every morning were
worthy of the pencil of Hogarth or Cruikshank.
The room was crowded to excess. Everybody was
trying to do what only one-twelfth of those present could
accomplish. There were fifty claimants for every vessel.
The small messes came into collision with the large
messes. The war raged with the bitterness of the contests between the houses of York and Lancaster, or the
rival factions of the Guelphs and Ghibellines.
Such a conglomeration of interests and purposes; such
a chaos of voices; such a jostling and confusion; such
an olla podrida of the absurd, the excited, the belligerent, and the profane could not well have been witnessed
anywhere else.
And then the conviction that the resentments and
quarrels were altogether mean and unworthy; the idea
that gentlemen should fly into a passion, and descend to
the morals of the Prize Ring, about a few miserable iron
skillets and tin pans; should for no higher object imitate




THE KITCHEN CABINET AT THE LIBBY.


283


the fishwomen of Billingsgate, mortified all concerned
when coolness and reflection came.
Every officer, when the cooking was over for the day,
promised amendment, and vowed for the future he would
observe decency and decorum.
But when the dreadful cooking-day came around again,
those good resolutions were dispersed into thin air, and
the ancient Adam asserted itself in spite of good-breeding, self-discipline, and the sense of propriety.
Through the thick smoke of the Libby Kitchen a confusion of tongues was heard that reminded one of his
idea of the Tower of Babel.
Some of the foreign officers became so excited that they
could not do justice to their feelings in the English.vernacular, but appealed to German, French, and Italian —
we had a number of nationalities in the Prison-for full
expression of their fancied wrongs and woes.
Many of them   declared that they would rather go
through a battle than spend a day in the kitchen-and I
shared their opinion fully; for, grotesque and contemptible as those things appear at present, they were our life
then, and weighed with a now incomprehensible burden
on our spirit and our brain.
Who that was there will ever be able entirely to forget
the Libby Kitchen; the struggle between the small and
the large messes; the great contest of the pans and
plates; the sieges of the skillets; the raids upon the
wood-pile; the defeats at breakfast; the drawn battles
at dinner; the triumphant victories at supper; the irrepressible conflict between bacon and business; rice and
rhetoric; dried apples and despair?
19




284


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER XXXIX.
CELL-LIFE IN RICHMOND.
Prison within a Prison.-Full Appreciation of Sterne's Starling.-Evil Destiny of
the Tribune Correspondents.-One of our many Failures and its Result.Interior View of a Rebel Cell.-The Rare Society we found there.-Glance at
the Gross Corruption in Secessia.-Novel Means of making Confederate Currency.-Horrors of Southern Dungeons.
To dwell in a prison within a prison is one of the experiences the War Correspondents enjoyed in Richmond,:and which not a few of our officers and soldiers have
shared with them.
As I have mentioned, we of the Tribune were always
endeavoring, like Sterne's Starling, to get out-by the by,
I never fully felt the truth of that bit of fine writing in
the "Sentimental Journey" until I had been a prisoner
nearly a year-and, like the poor bird, we found it a hard
task to accomplish our freedom.
At Castle Thunder we always had some plan; and as,often as we failed, we formed another. We had made
arrangements, through trusty messengers, where to go in
the city, in the event of our breaking the bonds that
fettered us; and we felt confident our escape could not
be much longer delayed.
The Destinies seemed opposed to us, however. All our
endeavors blossomed without fruit.     We failed almost
always through some other agency than our own; and at




CELL-LIFE IN RICHMOND.


285


last we came to look upon ourselves as the Jonahs of any
enterprise of the kind.
Any tunnel in which we were interested was sure to be
exposed, or too long deferred, or to tumble in at the very
moment it was ready to be tapped.
Any guard that we had gotten into a proper condition
to take our money, and give us our freedom, was certain
to be detailed, or fall sick. or die, or get drunk just when
we needed him.
Any night on which we depended for complete darkness, proved to be decked out with at least a thousand
additional stars and an extra flood of moonlight.
The Elements and Fortune both seemed to have arrayed
themselves against the "historians of the War;" and we
marveled much when the long night of adversity would
end.
In one thing we were lucky enough. The authorities
of the Prison either did not suspect us of being Catilines,
or, if they did, gave us no intimation of their suspicion.
That was somewhat singular; for a citizen of Maryland,
who assumed to be a most earnest Unionist and a most
zealous Christian, we knew was a perpetual spy upon
all the inmates of the room in which we were confined;
and we knew also that he was morally certain we had
tried a score of times to get out.
On a certain night the thing was all arranged. There
was to be no postponement on account of the weather,
and positively no change of performance.
At twelve o'clock one of the New York Herald Correspondents, Mr. Richardson, myself, and several others,
Were to go out of the room-the sentinel having agreed




286


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


to unlock the door-down into the street, by other guards
who were in our pay and confidence.
We arose from our blankets-we had lain down for a
feint-put on our clothes, and were ready to set out.
The sentinel wished to see our money.
The Herald man handed him a roll of bank-notes, and
when they were returned, they proved to be ones instead
of fives, as the Correspondent insisted. That was a palpable theft; and we concluded if the guard would cheat
us on the inside of the bars, we could not depend on him
on the outside.
So we fell back with maledictions on the perfidious
Rebel.
The next morning the Bohemian discovered his mistake.
He had given the guard the wrong roll of notes; and we
lost our chances for freedom-that time at least-by our
own blunder.
The subsequent afternoon we three Bohemians were
called out, and informed that we would be consigned to
a cell; and before evening we were transferred there.
A dismal, dirty place, that cell. It was about twenty
by twelve feet; the floor incrusted with filth. But one
window served to let in any light. The walls and ceiling
were begrimed with smoke and years of accumulated
dust.
No ventilation in the cell, which was sorely needed, as
there were tubs in the den that had stood there, and infected the atmosphere for many weeks, if not months.
A temple of Cloacina was a charming abode, and a
smoke-house a rosy Eden, compared to that cell. Not
a box, bench, or even stick of wood, was in the place.




CELL-LIFE IN RICHMOND.


287


A small broken stove constituted its sole piece of furniture.
I The cell brought to our mind the Vicksburg jail, and
we laughed at the magnificent preparations made for our
reception. The first thing we did was to give two or
three handfuls of Rebel currency-we certainly could
afford to be generous with that kind of "money" —to an
attache of the Castle, and ask for wood, a wash-basin, a
stool, &c. /
We did not relish the change, but we concluded to
make the best of the worst, and immediately set about
rendering ourselves-in the true Bohemian style-as little
uncomfortable as possible. We lighted our pipes to improve the atmosphere, and talked of New York hotellife; of handsome furniture, epicurean dishes, and the
very opposite of our surroundings.
At a late hour we rolled ourselves in our blankets, and
slept quite well, in spite of the repulsiveness of the place.
In the morning, our companions in the room we had left
sent us various articles of food from the boxes received
from the North, and kind expressions of sympathy and
hopes that we would soon be released from our prison
within a prison.
The same day some seven new personages were sent
into our cell for a similar offense to ours. They were
decidedly mauvais sujets, and had all belonged to the
Southern army. For two years they had been guilty of
all manner of crime-theft, burglary, forgery, stabbing,
shooting, and I know not what else. Their faces reflected
their characters, and would have been admirable additions
to the Tombs' gallery of notorious rogues.




288


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Delightful society, thought we, for gentlemen; and we
referred to Young Mirabel in the company of the bravos.
Alas! there was no Oriana to deliver us from our peculiar friends! We were obliged to await the inexorable
logic of events, and we waited long.
Our bevy of fresh visitors, with all their vices, treated
us with entire courtesy and kindness. They offered to do
little offices, and really assisted us in many ways. One of
them was extremely desirous to have me write him a loveletter to his inamorata, a bar-maid or kitchen queen residing in the city.
I gratified him, and indited a classical billet-doux to
his proletarian mistress, with which he expressed much
delight; the only objection to it being his inability to
understand what it was all about.
The rogues grew very communicative, and told us how
much money they used to make, twelve or fifteen months
before, by "shoving a Mick," "running a kink," and
other entertainments, the nature of which, from the occult
language of the revealers, was entirely enigmatic.
Our friends undertook to enlighten us on the character
of their speculations, informing us that "running a Mick"
was to get an Irishman drunk; induce him to enlist for
two or three hundred dollars; obtain five times that sum
from some citizen desirous of procuring a substitute; and
after sending the Hibernian to Camp Lee in the forenoon,
to go out for him towards evening; bring him in again,
and sell him to some other individual requiring a representative in the field.
"Coming the kink" was to steal a negro from the
country, and dispose of him in town; one of the party




CELL-LIFE IN RICHMOND:

289


himself pretending to be an African-having previously
"blacked up, and put on a wig-and a brother or near
relative of the melanthrope in question. Those fellows
would steal the Ethiop and sell him again; and sometimes they had bartered away the same darkey seven or
eight times in one month.
Those revelations were highly edifying, of course.
They gave us such a new idea of the peculiarities of
trade that we have ever since confessed our' ignorance
of some of its branches.
Some of the rogues had been traveling through the
South for two years, drawing the pay of Lieutenants,
Captains, and Majors, though they never had been more
than privates, and had only carried muskets until they
found it convenient to run away. In the line of desertion
they had. been very energetic. They assured me they had
belonged to twelve or thirteen regiments at different times,
and had engaged themselves as substitutes whenever
opportunity offered.
They were a rare coterie of gentlemen, and I greatly
admired the delicacy of their organization, and their
sublimated ideas of honor.     They furnished us with
some knowledge of the corruption that existed in
Secessia, by assuring us that there were hundreds of
bogus officers in every State, who had swindled the
Treasury out of millions of dollars.
"Confound their old rags!" said our heroes of Alsatia,
in justification of their dishonesty, "what harm is there
in stealing their d-  d trash?  They ought to pay a
man for putting it in circulation."
The fellows were adventurous, too.




290


FOUR YEARS IN SEOESSIA.


They had frequently made their escape, but always
contrived to be brought back. They had changed their
names so often that they did not recognize, or had forgotten, the one they originally bore. They had been in
every department of dishonest enterprise-from watchstuffing to garroting, and had not committed murder only
because they did not believe it good policy.
I asked one of their number: "What is Mr.       's
calling? What does he do for a livelihood?"
" He? Oh, he doesn't do much now. He's in the burglary business a little, but it hasn't paid him very well
lately."
The burglary business! My question-answerer spoke
as if it were an entirely legitimate avocation, and no
doubts were to be expressed thereof.
The sacred seven related their manner of escape at
different times, which displayed no little ingenuity, and
rather interested us who had yet so much to accomplish
in that way.
They had gone out of the Castle in broad daylight,
with pens behind their ears and slips of paper in their
hands; the guards supposing they were clerks connected
with the Prison.
They had sooted their faces, and changed clothes
with some of the negroes, and gone out at night to their
quarters, whence they could pass over the roof of an outhouse, and, dropping down into an alley, get away before
the guard could fire on them.
They had slipped out behind detectives, pretending
to be their deputies, and had exhausted their ingenuity
in their endeavor to deceive the guard. One of them had




CELL-LIFE IN RICHMOND.


291


contrived to obtain a woman's apparel, and, habiting himself in it, had passed the sentinels without exciting suspicion. They had even gotten into empty barrels, and
been driven out in wagons by the negroes.
For nearly two weeks we were kept in the cell, during
which we smoked a great deal, and became exceedingly
disgusted with ourselves and the world at large.
How we paced the floor to and fro! How we wore
smiles rather sardonic on our lips, and forced every day's
bitterness of feeling into our hearts! How we grew
skeptical of every one, even our nearest friends, and
doubted if we had any! How we scoffed at the "disinterested motives" of the great World, and vowed that
such things as affection and sympathy did not exist outside of the poet's page.
We became cynical in spite of ourselves, and reached
Schopenhauer's plane-hoping nothing, expecting nothing, caring for nothing.
Few persons, unless they have had the experience, can
determine how much a long captivity dries up the heart,
narrows the mind, and withers all the freshness of existence.
Shut out from every refining and humanizing influence,
deprived of the sight of Beauty, of the sense of Fragrance, of the sound of Melody, a man of any imagination
or sensibility must be uneducated back to a condition of
spiritual barbarism, and be inoculated with a moroseness
and skepticism years will not eradicate, nor the assurance
of love and friendship altogether remove.
His captivity leaves on his soul the shadow that is
never lifted, and so rudely shatters frail barks of Hope




292


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


and Beauty, which erst sailed smoothly on the unruffled
sea of his Being, that they never dare venture forth in
the future from the closed harbor of his isolated heart.
Out of that noisome, repulsive cell went we to our old
quarters, parting from our fortnight-old companions of
"Mick-shovers" and "kink-comers" without any agony
of spirit, that the sumptuous splendor of that most romantic of Castles, and the deliciousness of its aromatic atmosphere would not soon remove.
In the Citizens' room, as it was called, we were greeted
by those from whom we had been temporarily separated,
as if we had come out of bondage to freedom; and indeed
the old quarters, dreary and disagreeable as they were,
opened to us on our return with a breath of the far-off
fragrance of Paradise.
A brief sketch have I given here of cell-life as experienced by us; and though it presents no very attractive
picture, it was bright and beautiful as a Claude or
Poussin, compared to the experience of some other captives.
Some of the cells of the Libby Prison and Castle
Thunder were such as we would not think to find in
the present century. The former were under grounddamp, dark and dismal in the extreme, and so unwholesome that I have known officers confined there a week to
sink under the infliction, and suffer from a serious illness.
The brutes at the Libby-most conspicuous among whom
were the Turners-have thrown Union officers into those
vile cells for accidentally expectorating on the floor, for
giving a piece of bread to some captive more unfortunate
than they, and other trivial offenses.




CELL-LIFE IN RICHMOND.


293


When officers attempted to escape, or were recaptured
after escaping, they were placed in those subterranean
dens, and kept there on the smallest and most obnoxious
rations for weeks, and sometimes months,-as long generally as they could be kept without imminent peril to
their lives.
I have known our officers so starved there, that they
caught rats, and ate them with the greatest relish; and
so broken in health and constitution, that they did not
recover for months, and will not, some of them, to
their dying day.
The Rebels have had a great deal to say since the War,
of Northern bastiles, but never a word about Southern
ones. I confess to a much longer and more varied
acquaintance with the Southern than those at home;
but I feel confident such confinement as has been the
rule in Dixie would not be tolerated in the more liberal
and enlightened part of the Republic.
I have again" and again seen Union captives come out
of cells in Richmond pallid and emaciated as consumptive corpses-mere ghosts of men-with mouldy clothes
and mildewed hair, burning with fever, bent with rheumatism, wasted with dysentery, who had been detained
in those dungeons witj a fiendish malignity, until their
wretched existence held by a single thread.
At the Castle, too, I have often been surprised at the
tenacity with which incarcerated victims clung to their
frail tenements of clay in the cells and dungeons that
admitted hardly a ray of light; too small for the inmates
either to lie down, or sit, or stand with ease.
The air of those dens was pestiferous. They reeked




294          FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.
with filth and vermin. They would have delighted the
Doges in the days of Venetian crime and Venetian
mystery. They would have closed forever the babbling lips of those who talk of our generous but erring
brothers-our brave but wayward sisters of the South.
Brave and generous people cannot be cruel, and
cruelty was an inextinguishable element in the character
of most of the Prison authorities of Secessia. They were
malevolent without pretext, and inhuman without passion-an anomaly only to be explained by the enunciation of a truth I have long recognized, that " Slavery is
barbarous, and makes barbarians."




CASTLE THIUNDER.


295


CHAPTER XL.
CASTLE      THUNDER.
Contrast between the Castle and Libby.-A Southern Bombastes.-Cruel Treatment
of Prisoners.-Absurd Charges against Innocent Men.-The Prison a Regulat
Bastile.-Energetic and Enterprising Captives.-Difficulty of Obtaining Supplies Sent from the North.-Peculation and Plundering of the Chivalry.-Their
Begging and Trading Proclivities. —Their Ridiculous Assumptions and Exposure
-Bohemian Arrivals.-Comparative Comfort of the Correspondents.-Rebel
Anxiety to Purchase Treasury Notes.-Campaigning with the Small-Pox.
CASTLE THUNDER, though more disagreeable on account
of the character of its occupants, was preferable, on the
whole, to the Libby, because there was less tyranny and
contemptible malice there than at the other Richmond
Prison. At the Libby we could relieve the tedium of
captivity by conversation with intelligent and well-bred
officers; but at the Castle we were forced to depend
almost entirely on our own society,-Mr. S. T. Bulkley,
of the Herald, had been added to the Bohemians,-as our
fellow-prisoners were for the most part deserters, thieves,
swindlers, and loyal but ignorant men, far more interesting abstractly than socially.
The commandant of the Castle, a regular Bombastes
Furioso, happened to have some literary pretensionsthey were purely pretensions-and therefore treated
journalists with a certain degree of consideration. We
had privileges others had not, and rather congratulated




296


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


ourselves upon our transfer, albeit the Richmond authorities had designed it as an augmented severity
There, as I have said elsewhere, we first began to put
in practice our ideas of escape, and, in conjunction with
others, to dig tunnels, sound guards, enlist negroes in our
service, and make arrangements, in the event of our
exodus, for concealment in the city.
At the Castle we witnessed a great deal of suffering;
though, from the causes already mentioned, and from the
fact that while there we received several boxes of supplies from the North, we Bohemians were enabled to
make ourselves comparatively comfortable. We were
in the least bad quarters in the Prison-it was formerly
a tobacco warehouse and factory-and had gathered
during our long incarceration a number of such articles
as are usually considered necessary to housekeeping.
Compared to those about us we were the purple-robed
patricians of the place.  Generally, we were neither
hungry nor ragged; and yet every day we saw poor
devils so cold in their squalid fragments of attire, that
they could hardly hold the hard corn-bread doled out
to them to their pale and wasted lips.
No Union captive ever received a single garment or
blanket from the Rebels: he was thrown into the prison
to shift for himself as best he might. If he froze, tlhey
cared not; if he perished, they had only one less Yankee
to feed. They were as indifferent to the sufferings of the
prisoners as they would have been to those of the Feejee
Islanders; and they made no pretense of sympathy or
commiseration.
The Southern citizens were treated quite as badly as the




CASTLE THUNDER.


297


Yankees-even worse, sometimes, I thought-especially
if they were poor and friendless. Old men, with white
hair and forms bent with years, were incarcerated there
on charge of having given food to their sons, who had
deserted from the Army. Others were snatched from
their homes on vague accusations of disloyalty to the
so-called Confederacy, and allowed to die there untried
and unknown.
A large number of persons were there as spieswhen the Rebels could trump up no other charge
against a man, they called him  a spy, knowing that
would hold him for an indefinite period-who had not
brains, or energy, or courage enough to incur the suspicion of any sane person. They had actually thrown
into the Castle as a spy, a poor lunatic who had broken
out of the Jackson (Mississippi) Asylum; and when I
went farther South he was still in captivity, with a prospect of ending his days there.
It was even reported among the traditions of the Prison
that blind men had been there as spies, and dumb
persons on charge of giving information to the enemy;
but for those reports I do not vouch. Certainly, however, men were there on the most absurd grounds, and
likely to remain unless they had money or friends.
There was no assumption of justice in the Castle.
Any   one might perish within its walls from   sheer
neglect, or, once confined there, all trace be lost of him.
It was indeed a Southern Bastile. Almost everybody in
Richmond got into the Castle some time or other, prominent Rebel officers, men, women, and children.
That it was employed for the most nefarious purposes




298


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


I cannot doubt. During the reign of General Winder
and his Baltimore plug-ugly Detectives, the grossest
abuses were practiced. Any man bearing malice against
a citizen of Richmond had only to trump up some story,
relate it to a Detective, and, presto, the unfortunate
found himself in the Castle. As the nature of his offense
was not stated even to him, he could make no defense,
and unless some good Rebel outside interested himself
in his behalf, his prospects of long imprisonment were
surprisingly brilliant.
An old occupant of the Prison assured me that a
Sbuthern officer, having become enamored of a citizen's
wife, breathed some secret suspicion of her husband's
loyalty to Winder's ruffians, and instantly the ill-starred
liege-lord was looking at Virginia's capital through iron
gratings. The husband removed, the libertine officer
prosecuted his suit without interruption; and when the
former re-obtained his freedom, his wife had become
openly the mistress of the licentious Major.
Such instances were not uncommon. The odious lettre
de cachet was revived. The Castle was made the vehicle of personal malice and private revenge.
The commandant, Alexander, was accused of all manner of debaucheries and cruelties, and arraigned before
the " Confederate" Congress on the gravest charges;
Nothing came of them beyond the removal of the official,
and the substitution of a much meaner man in his place,
who, subsequent to our transfer to Salisbury, would not
allow any of the prisoners to purchase a particle of food,
or even a copy of a newspaper. That contemptible piece
of malice was carried into execution until the fall of




CASTLE THUNDER.


299


Richmond, and the inmates of the Castle suffered greatly
from the premeditated cruelty.
A more energetic set of conspirators, or more enterprising planners of escape, than were at the Castle, I have
not seen. They were always contriving some means to
get out, and exhausting ingenuity to that end. They
dug tunnels enough to undermine the City, and worked
subterraneously like moles. Whoever wanted to escape,
"brought himself into sympathy with the Bohemians.
We were generally in league with most of the villains in
the Prison, for they were more industrious and audacious than the honest fellows. Yet were we unsuccessful in our endeavors for many months, though it seemed
our activity earlier merited the reward which ultimately
came.
One night, some ten of the prisoners essayed to escape
by digging a tunnel, but were informed upon by a traitor
in their midst, and their attempt frustrated. They were
taken before the Commandant, the Bobadil I have mentioned, who, with a pompous and Jupiter-Tonans air,
thus delivered himself: "There is no use, men, of trying
to get out of here: it is absolutely impossible! You can
make no movement; you can not breathe; you can not
have a thought that is unknown to me. You might as
well attempt to scale Heaven as escape from the Castle;
so you had better behave yourselves, and become resigned to your situation."
The very next night, the harangued captives, with
twelve others, got out, and were never afterward heard
of by the Rebels.
During the latter part of our confinement at the Castle,
20




300


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


as I have said, we were the happy recipients of several
boxes. To get them was a pure piece of good fortune;
for the chance of losing any thing sent from the North
was as ten to one.
The officer in charge of the Rebel warehouse had
known us at Vicksburg, and was unusually obliging
to us. As soon as we were advised by letter of a shipment of supplies, we would obtain permission to visit the
warehouse under guard, and get hold of our box before
it was broken open or stolen.
If a package remained there any number of days, it
was pretty certain to be pillaged.  Hardly any thing
ever came through unimpaired.    The Union officers
could obtain very little without bribery, and they frequently offered a quarter and even half the contents of
a box, to procure the remainder.
No class of people I have ever met are so susceptible
to a bribe as the Rebels. From the pompous, swaggering, pseudo gentleman down to the lackey, they would
all, like old Trapbois, in the "Fortunes of Nigel,"
do almost apy thing for a consideration. They outdid the stage Yankees in their fondness for bartering and exchanging, and talked of swapping and trading you out of whatever you had or wore, in a manner I had not known-often as I have been in New England-to exist, save in histrionic Solomon Swops and.Solon Shingles.
They even play the mendicant almost as well as
professional lazzaroni. You can not have any thing gay
or striking on your person, any bright color or shiningmetal, but some fellow, who professes to be a gentle



CASTLE THUNDER.


301


man, will ask you, directly or indirectly, to give it to
him.
Poor devils! they have no surplus of attire or adornment; but one would imagine, with all their pretension,
they might, during the present century, have learned
at least the first lesson in good-breeding.
They are shams in manners, as they are in chivalry,
hospitality, culture, and every thing else.  They are
brave, of course, because they are Americans; but they
must even pretend a recklessness of life and a passion
for death that is not natural to humanity, and assuredly
not to them more than to any other part of the great
family.
With all their braggadocio and bombast about perishing in the last ditch, and dying to the last man, woman,
and child, they know when they are whipped, as thoroughly and quickly as any other people, and have no
more natural appetite for coffins and graveyards than the
rest of mankind.
Of course the leaders will fight while they can keep
a formidable army in the field; and when they can not,
they will submit quietly, or run away.
They have been prating since the War began, as if, in
the event of their subjugation, which is as certain to take
place as the sea to ebb, or buds to bloom, they would
imitate their more generous and chivalrous brothers the
Japanese, and perform a general hari-kari upon themselves. They won't do any thing of the sort: they can't
be induced to do it. I wish they could. If they can
endure the ripping up, I fancy we can; and as the matter-of-fact individual told the fond mamma, who informed




302


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


him that her daughter was of a very gushing nature:
"Let her gush, marm!" we can say, with a very commendable degree of composure, when the insurgent
leaders adopt self-dissection as a business: "You never
had any bowels of compassion to spare, gentlemen; but
if you are so minded, let them rip."
Since the above was written, Richmond has fallen,
and Lee's grand army, which was the main-stay of the
Rebellion, has crumbled to pieces. Therefore what I
have said may be regarded in the light of a prediction.
The Rebels now do know they are whipped, and Jefferson Davis, his Cabinet, and the principal leaders have
run away-are at this moment fugitives in the land.
The power of the great Insurrection is broken. The
cause of the Secessionists is hopelessly lost, and yet we
hear of no general hari-kari; no gratuitous dying of
women and children; no perishing in the last ditch.
It is extremely difficult to write any thing about the
War, while events are developing so rapidly as they
have been in the last few weeks. The prophecy of today becomes the fact of to-morrow.     The speculation
of one hour passes into history the next.
No one can doubt at present, however much he may
sympathize with the South, that the War, so far as any
largeness of operations is concerned, is practically over;
that the giant of Treason has been laid low. He may
rave and wrestle in his chains; he may struggle to rise,
and may yet do us some injury, but he has ceased to be
formidable: his power for permanent evil is forever and
forever gone.
To return from great to small things, let me go back




CASTLE THUNDER.


303


to the Castle, which is now a prison for the enemy, and
not for the loyal who suffered there so long; whose sufferings are more than atoned for by the glory of the
Present; the triumph of the Right; the establishment,
after four years of sanguinary strife, of the integrity of
the Republic, and the restoration of the Nation beyond
the power of future harm.
During the month of November, if I remember rightly,
two more Bohemians were added to our triad, Mr. L. A.
Hendrick and Mr. George H. Hart, of the New York
Herald. They had been captured by Colonel Mosby,
while acting as safeguards at the house of a Virginia
lady, who stated the circumstances, and begged that
they be released, as justice and honor demanded. Mosby
said he was compelled to send them to Richmond, but
assured the lady they would not be detained.   They
were kept there for three months, and obtained their
liberty at last only by securing the services of able
lawyers, and by the fact that they did not belong to the
Tribune.
Early in January, 1864, it was proposed by Commissioner Ould to exchange for them two attaches of the
Richmond Enquirer, who had been captured in some
piratical expedition on the Chesapeake, and who had no
right to claim the treatment of Correspondents or journalists. Ould sent Colonel Tyler, the proprietor of The
Enquirer, to them to arrange the exchange-ignoring
The Tribune writers altogether-informing them if the
Richmond journalists were not released from irons, in
which he said they had been put-as they deserved to
be, I presume-that the Southern authorities would be




304


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


compelled to place two of the five Correspondents in the
Castle in a similar position. Mr. Richardson and I
laughed at the one-sided arrangement, knowing that if
any pair were to be put in irons, it would in all probability be ourselves, although no opportunity was given
us for freedom. The irons proved a mere threat, or at
least there was no excuse for their employment, as Hart
and Hendrick were paroled, and sent North to obtain the
release of the Richmond scribes, which they did, although they had then been prisoners only about onethird the time that The Tribune correspondents had.
Mr. S. T. Bulkley, also of the Herald, was soon after
released: proving conclusively, were any proof needed,
that the Richmond officials had no particular animosity
against War Correspondents, so long as they were not
members of Horace Greeley' s staff.
The five Bohemians, while together, were in the same
mess, of course, and, as they were rather congenial, assisted each other not a little in relieving the tedium of
prison life. With the boxes and the books we had received from the North, we continued to live with comparative comfort. The days of our cooking and playing
scullion had passed; we had assistants there to perform
menial offices; and, consequently, we had ample leisure
for reading and indulging in our favorite amusement of
whist, in which, from long practice, we attained considerable skill.
The Castle was lighted with gas, which was burned all
night when we did not turn it off to hide some attempt to
escape-so that we could sit up as late as we chose. We
had nocturnal lunches from our bountiful supplies, and




CASTLE THUNDER.


305


often sat over coffee, and sardines and preserves, smoking
our cigars, until the sentinels beneath the grated windows
called the hours of two and three in the morning:
During no period that we were in captivity, did we of
Thie Tribune subsist beyond a few days at a time on the
prison rations. Had we been compelled to do so, we
would have been occupying long since a few feet of the
sacred soil of Virginia or North Carolina. We would not
have starved to death positively, perhaps; but our systems would have so run down on the meager and unwholesome diet that we would have fallen ill, and never
have gained strength sufficient for restoration.
Having no expectation of release save through our own
agency-and that was highly improbable-we always
looked ahead, and prepared for the coming months. We
managed almost always to keep in funds, receiving Treasury Notes secretly in cans of preserves, butter, and books
sent us in our boxes. We experienced no difficulty in exchanging the National currency for Rebel scrip, as there was
always an active demand for the former in all the prisons to
which we were consigned, from Vicksburg to Salisbury, at
rates varying from two to fifteen of their stuff for one of our
money. The Rebel officers were ever anxious to buy, and
when they did not do so openly, they employed agents to
purchase the Yankee issues for them.
I remember an Israelite who had been sent to the Castle
from Mobile for receiving Treasury Notes for some garment; and no sooner had he gotten inside of the Prison
than a young man employed there entered the Citizens'
Room, and asked in a loud tone who had any greenbacks
to sell. The Hebrew opened his eyes in astonishment, and




306


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


declared it " vash a tam pretty pishness to put a shentlemans in such a tam hole as dat for doing vat de tam Rebels vash doing demselves."  The clothes-dealer's enunciation was somewhat at fault; but no one could controvert
his logic.
At the Castle we made our first acquaintance in the
South with the small-pox. We had a great many cases
in the Prison-a number in the room where we were confined. In fact, we walked, ate, and slept with it for several months, there as well as in Salisbury, without
contracting the disease.  Persons suffering from  the
small-pox were permitted to lie in our quarters until they
had broken out; but we had no fear of it;-why should
a man in a Rebel prison fear any thing?-and to that, perchance, may be attributed our escape from infection. We
even administered to those who had been seized, bent
over them, and inhaled their breath and the contagion
supposed to emanate from the body; yet we passed through
two long campaigns with the obnoxious ailment entirely
unscathed.
There was a great variety of sickness at the Castle during our five months' incarceration, and a number of our
fellow-prisoners went to the hospital and died; but I always contrived to keep out of the Rebel lazar-houses, in
the capacity of patient, at least; and with the exception
of several desperate flirtations with the fever, I enjoyed
far better health than I had any reason to expect. Indeed,
I felt vexed at myself sometimes that I did preserve such
an enviable hygienic position; believing no gentleman
had any right to live in a Southern prison more than a
month, at the furthest.




EXECUTION OF A LOYAL TENNESSEAN.


307


CHAPTER XLI.
EXECUTION OF A LOYAL TENNESSEAN.
Brief Account of his Antecedents.-His Attachment to the Union Cause.-His
Betrayal.-His Cruel Treatment in Prison.-A Second Judas.-Conviction on
False Evidence.-His Wretched Condition.-The Closing Scene.-An Inhuman
Detective.-Revolting Spectacle at the Gallows.
OF the many military murders committed in the South
since the inception of the War, none have been more
cruel and revolting than the hanging of Captain Deaton,
of East Tennessee, in the prison-yard of Castle Thunder,
Richmond, Virginia, during the winter of 1864.
Deaton was a strong Union man in that most loyal part
of our country, and had been very efficient in resisting
the encroachments of the Secessionists from the period of
the earliest troubles. He was a well-built, finely-proportioned, muscular fellow, in the prime of life and full flush
of health, intelligent, courageous, determined; and, as
may be supposed, a most annoying and dangerous personage for the Rebels to deal with.
As the struggle continued, the intensity of feeling increased in Tennessee, and finally Deaton was compelled
to leave his home-in Knox County, I believe-and take
to the bush, as it is technically termed in the South. The
loyalists were outnumbered by the regular forces sent
into their neighborhood, and were coerced to adopt
guerrilla warfare as a means of protection.




308


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Deaton, seeing the change in the situation, felt that
organization was necessary, and soon raised a company
of loyal Tennesseans, whom he was chosen to command.
With these he did effective service, and he soon gained a
name and fame for his daring and exploits. He was
desirous of admission into the regular army, but whether
he succeeded in his purpose, I am unaware.
The Rebels hated him with exceeding hatred, and, it is
stated, set a price upon his head. They made every effort
to ensnare him, but he was too wily for them. He had
numerous hair-breadth escapes; was fired upon again and
again; his clothes pierced with bullets; and yet he was
unharmed. He seemed to bear a charmed life; but he
had his unguarded moments, as all men have, and fell into
a trap the enemy had prepared for him.
Like most of the middle and poorer classes of the South,
Deaton had strong home attachments, and for a number
of months he had been unable to hear directly from his
wife and children, whom he most tenderly.loved. His
foes were aware of that, and sent him word by a person
whom he deemed trustworthy, that if he would call at a
certain place on an appointed night, he would obtain news
of his family.
Deaton went; and while in the house, which was surrounded by armed men, he was surprised before he could
use his weapons; bound hand and foot, and thrown into
a wretched negro-pen. He was charged with all the
crimes in the calendar, the least of which were arson,
rape, and murder. But as it was not easy to prove him
a person with whom Caligula would have been a saint,
he was accused of being a spy, and kept in a loathsome




EXECUTION OF A LOYAL TENNESSEAN.


309


dungeon for four or five months. His health gave way;
his constitution was broken; his nervous system was
shattered, and he became a wreck of himself. The Rebels
were always threatening him with execution, and for
many weeks he lived in hourly expectation of being put
to death. No one was admitted to see him, and he fell
into a condition of mental imbecility. About that time he
was transferred to Richmond, where it was thought he
might be treated with some humanity. Strange mistake!
Humanity is not indigenous to the Rebel capital. There
the meanest, and vilest, and most tyrannical of the insurgents can be ever found.
At Richmond he was thrown into the condemned cell
of Castle Thunder; a cold, dark, noisome, filthy hole,
next to the room in which my confrere and myself were
confined, and which we never passed without closing our
nostrils with our fingers, in lieu of those perfumed handkerchiefs that ceased to be the mode with us soon after
our capture.
Up to that period nothing had been proved against
Deaton; but he there unfortunately made a confidant of
a villain, formerly a Lieutenant in the old United States
service, who had tried to be a Secessionist, but by his
vacillations had been suspected and consigned to the
Castle. The ex-Lieutenant betrayed him of course. The
morning after he heard Deaton' s story, he asked for an
interview with the Commandant of the Prison; and soon
after the Captain was loaded with irons, and treated
more cruelly than ever.
A few days subsequent he was tried by Court-Martial,
and convicted of being a spy upon what was declared to




310


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


be false evidence. Deaton was then returned to his cell;
and I have rarely witnessed a more melancholy spectacle.
Haggard, emaciated, ragged, almost barefooted, bent as
with a crushing weight, a strange light in his sunken eye,
he seemed then more dead than alive.
We obtained for him two or three times the privilege
of coming into our room, while the cell was being relieved
of a portion of its filth, to warm by a poor stove his frozen
feet. We gave him a seat; he took it with a vacant stare,
and crouched over the fire, but spoke no word in answer
to the tender pity we expressed for him. His mind wandered: his spirit was broken: long and persistent barbarity had killed in him the gallant and noble Man.
The fatal Friday came on which poor Deaton was to be
executed. Certainly it was a hangman's day-dreary,
lowering, bitter cold. The scaffold was erected in the
yard adjoining the Prison on the west side; and into the
inclosure the unfortunate victim was taken about the
hour of noon. He was too weak to walk without support; and he was assisted down the stairs to the ground
floor. An effort had been made to improve his external
appearance; but his better clothes only made him seem
more wretched.   Though the thermometer was little
above zero, the perspiration stood in drops upon the condemned man's brow, and a spot of crimson glowed in his
ghastly cheek.  He looked up at the scaffold with a
leaden gaze, and when asked some question by the attaches of the Castle at his side, made an incoherent reply,
a muttered mystery.
Detective Caphart-a gray-haired villain of sixty, who
has been known to pay a large price for the privilege of




EXECUTION OF A LOYAL TENNESSEAN.


311


hanging a man, and who boasts he has assisted at the
death of all the persons executed in Richmond for many
years-was very active on the occasion, and in the best
of spirits. Indeed, like the laughing hangman of Louis
XI., he was only happy at such a time. He pulled the
Captain rudely about; cursed him for his dullness; and
vented spleen on an unfortunate who had but a few
minutes to live.  Caphart and Warden Wiley hurried
through the dreadful affair as if it were any ordinary engagement, and the scoundrel Detective glowered on the
prisoners, who had been invited to witness the execution,
as if he regretted very much that he could not perform
the same amiable office for them.
The estimable twain having borne Deaton to the scaffold, released their hold of him, and told him to stand up.
They then descended, and ordered an underling to pull the
drop. The fellow had his hand upon the rope, when the
Captain looked around with a ghastly, half-idiotic smile,
muttered something, and sat down on the scaffold. Old
Caphart flew up the scaffold again; and shaking Deaton
with great fury, while his cracked and wiry voice poured
forth curses upon the "d — d Yankee son of a,"
called Wiley again to his assistance.
Once more Deaton was held up; and that time he
turned upon them, and smiled with a soft, sweet expression that transfigured his whole face. All the old, unsettled look fled. Courage, love, pity, benison came back
to him. He tried to nerve himself to stand. The officers
released him-as he seemed to desire. He staggered, and
he would have fallen. The momentary inspiration passed:
his head drooped: a half groan, a half sigh escaped him.




312


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


"Hurry, hurry!" cried out Caphart, in his harsh, broken
tones; "the d-   d Yankee will die in our arms if you
don't hang him quick!"
The drop fell, and the loyal Tennessean was swaying
in the air, struggling with death, and struggling hard.
So worn and wasted was he, that the tension of the
rope was slight.  For nearly ten minutes the victim
writhed and twisted and turned.
It seemed as if he would never die. The few prisoners
who had gone down to witness the tragedy were shocked;
and most of them hurried away.
Caphart alone enjoyed it. He grinned like a fiend, and
was evidently happy in his way.
At last the struggles ceased. The sufferings of the
loyal martyr were over.
The horror of the scene impressed every one, save the
gray-haired -ruffian; and more than one of the Rebel
officers shuddered and turned pale.
The bleak wind blew upon the scaffold, and moved the
strangled corpse.
A few snow-flakes fell through the frosty atmosphere,
like scattered rose-leaves on a grave.
The sun broke through the heavy clouds, and a little
light streamed down, as if the path were opened, and they
had parted to let a passing spirit in.




SALISBURY PENITENTIARY.


313


CHAPTER XLII.
SALISBURY PENITENTIARY.
Our Removal from Richmond to Salisbury.-Character of our Companions. —
Troubles of Transportation.-Strange Scene and Sensation at Petersburg.Arrival at the North Carolina Prison.-Interior View of our Quarters.-A
Heavy Blow for my Confrere.-The Horrors of Southern Captivity.-Difficulty
of their Realization.
ON the 2d of February, The Tribune correspondents
were ordered from Richmond to Salisbury, and long before dawn we were standing in Carey Street, in the midst
of seventy or eighty Rebel deserters and desperadoes
wearing balls and chains. We were the only Northerners in the Southern shipment, and, I might say, the only
persons, save a few straggling Tennessee and Virginia
Unionists, who would -not have picked their father's
pocket, or sold their grandmother, for a sufficient pecuniary inducement.
We were not very well attired, and our nine months of
captivity had not contributed to the elegance of our appearance; but, compared to those about us, we must have
seemed like robes of velvet upon hovel walls. We had
a great deal of baggage in the shape of blankets, a box of
provisions and cooking utensils, two old valises that we
had purchased in prison; and even after distributing our
household goods to some of our retainers, we were fairly
overburdened with our possessions. We very frequently




314


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


asked ourselves the question Mrs. Wragge so pathetically put to herself: " What shall we do with our things?"
and found no small difficulty in practically answering the
query. The large box fell to our individual management.
It was very heavy, and the single pole, run through the
rope handles, by which we carried it, turned and twisted
in our hands until they were blistered, and our muscles
were sore with the weight we bore; having been compelled to carry it over a mile at Petersburg, a quarter of
a mile at Weldon, and three quarters of a mile at Salisbury.
At Petersburg we stood for an hour and a half in one
of the most public streets, near the railway depot, subject
to the gaze and comment of the masculine and feminine
passers-by. Rare company was that for a gentleman. I
should have blushed had I not been proud-proud to be
hated by the Rebels-proud that I hated them as well.
As I stood there, I saw well-dressed men and women
gaze at that ragged crew with ill-concealed contempt and
even disgust-I wonder if they were more disgusted than
I was-and heard them utter denunciations upon "those
scoundrels" that were just enough in the main.
Strange thoughts stole through my mind in that public
thoroughfare. The situation was novel, and the sensation somewhat so. I had never fancied before the War
that I should be a show and a spectacle in an American
city-one of a crowd of ruffians and villains, from whom
I could not be discriminated, passing from one prison to
another-to be leered at by the vulgar and miscomprehended by my peers.
Neither my confrere nor myself felt humbled even




SALISBURY PENITENTIARY.


31-a


there, swept away as our individuality was in that unwholesome mass of humanity. The earnest conviction of
what we were, elevated us above our surroundings and
beyond the Present. We felt self-possessed, haughty,
fearless. The blood burned in our cheek; but it was the
kindling of a defiant soul; and if any close observer, any
studier of countenance, had been there, he would have
descried through the marble of the statue the suppressed
passion of the sculptor, the repose of Art with the scorn
of the Real.
The Richmond authorities had very kindly furnished
us with a special detective to see that we did not escape.
We had no idea of doing so on the way, having been led
to believe Salisbury the best base of operations we could
find. The detective proved to be a Unionist, and we told
him frankly we had no intention of leaving him, so that
he need give himself no trouble on the subject. We could
have gotten away a number of times en route to Salisbury, and we regretted afterwards we had not done so on
principle.
On the afternoon of the second day we reached Salisbury, and, entering the inclosure of the Penitentiary, were
warmly greeted by prisoners we had known at the Castle, and officers, held like ourselves as hostages, whose
acquaintance we had made at the Libby. At the Penitentiary there were Rebel convicts, Northern deserters,
hostages, Southern Union men, and all persons that the
enemy designed to hold for a long time. There were then
but six or seven hundred inmates of the place, which we
preferred either to the Castle or Libby, because we had
the privilege of the yard, and had a daily opportunity to,
21




316


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


"breathe the external atmosphere, and behold the overarching sky.
The quarters in which we were confined were very
undesirable, being about ninety by forty feet, with
"barred windows, dirty floor, partially occupied by rude
bunks, and two broken stoves that gave out no heat, but
a perpetual smoke of green pine-wood that made the
atmosphere blue, and caused us to weep as though we
had lost the dearest mistress of our soul.
There, with rags and vermin, filth and odors, as little
Sabean as possible, we passed the long, cold, desolate
nights, shivering in our light blankets, and striving, for
many a dreary hour, in vain to sleep. What a dismal
den it was!
Trophonius' famous cave, as described by Pausanias,
would not have more deeply shadowed the soul of its
occupant. What ages I seem to have passed there: what
weary, pangful, endless nights!
How cruelly Morpheus deceived me; how he painted
to my mental eye the peace and pleasantness of scenes far
away! How oft I awoke from dreams of mental magnificence to the cold, staring, stony walls of that wretched
abode! How frequently I was aroused from the fancied
breath of roses, and the enchanting strain of unseen instruments, and the soft-sweet pressure of lips of balm and
beauty, by the bite of insects and the tramp of some unfortunate tatterdemalion upon my fatigued form, steeped in
half-voluptuous, half-spiritual imaginings, and surrendered quite to precious oblivion of its surroundings!
If any place more than another is the antipodes of
Poetry, that surely was it.




SALISBURY PENITENTIARY.


31.7


I see it now, so barren, bleak, and squalid, so associated
with the meanest bondage and the most repulsive objects;
and I wonder any one can have lived there, and preserved
the least sense of Beauty.
Rare old den of disorder, disgustfulness, and deformity,
your form glowers through time and distance like a vision
of Hades upon the distempered mind of some early Father
of the superstitious Church!
I often wished I could obtain a photograph of that
room, for I can give no idea of its repulsiveness and
superlative squalor. A gentleman seemed more out of
place there than the Angel Gabriel would in a prize-ring,
or the Pope of Rome at a Five Points dance-house.
There it was my fellow-journalist, Mr. Richardson,
first heard of the sudden and altogether unexpected death
of his wife.
Amid all that meanness and coarseness and desolation, the heavy blow fell upon, and almost crushed him.
Heavens! what a place to be informed of such a grief; of
the loss of the nearest and dearest of relations; of one
whose life was full of beauty and of promise! His future
had been all interwoven with hers; and when cruel Fortune severed two such hearts, in his there must have
seemed no bright to-morrows.
Those quarters at Salisbury and their associations, will
my bereaved friend ever forget them? Can I even?
The antique junk-shop-such it seemed-was filled
with odors of the most obnoxious kind, especially at
night, from additional agencies that politeness will not
permit me to name. Vermin swarmed everywhere; they
tortured us while we tried to sleep on our coarse blan



318


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


kets, and kept us in torment when awake. Not a square
mile of Secessia seemed free from them.
INo light of any kind was furnished us; and there we
sat, night after night, in the thick darkness, inhaling the
foul vapors and the acrid smoke, longing for the morning,
when we could again catch a glimpse of the blue beaming sky.
Think of that death-life month after month! Think
of men of delicate organization, accustomed to ease and
luxury, of fine taste, and a passionate love of the Beautiful, without a word of sympathy or a whisper of hope,
wearing their days out amid such scenes!
Not a pleasant sound, nor a sweet odor, nor a vision of
fairness ever reached them. They were buried as completely as if they lay beneath the ruins of Pompeii or
Herculaneum. They breathed mechanically, but were
shut out from all that renders existence endurable.
Every sense was shocked perpetually, and yet the
heart, by a strange inconsistency, kept up its throbs, and
preserved the physical being of a hundred and fifty
wretched captives, who, no doubt, often prayed to die.
Few persons can have any idea of a long imprisonment
in the South. They usually regard it merely as an absence of freedom-as a deprivation of the pleasures and
excitements of ordinary life. They do not take into consideration the scant and miserable rations that no one,
unless he be half famished, can eat; the necessity of
going cold and hungry in the wet and wintry season; the
constant torture from vermin, of which no care nor precaution will free you; the total isolation, the supreme
dreariness, the dreadful monotony, the perpetual turning




SALISBURY PENITENTIARY.


319


inward of the mind upon itself, the self-devouring of the
heart, week after week, month after month, year after
year.
Most strange that captives there do not lose their reason, or die of inanition and despair. How hard it is to
kill a man, I had not fully learned, until fortune threw
me into Rebel hands.
Frequently I thought, in prison, of the suggestive
words of Glanvil: "Man does not yield to death, nor to
the angels even, save through the weakness of a conquered will;" and my spirit seemed to grow stronger and
control the failing flesh.
Man must be a brute or a philosopher to bear up
under all the trials of confinement in Rebeldom; and I
wonder now how the stoicism I had so long cultivated
stood me in that period of most urgent need.
Much do I marvel that I passed through the ordeal unscathed; whether I am the same mortal who bore with
outward calm and uncopnplaining fortitude nearly two
years of Southern captivity.
Was it my other or my actual self who passed those
ages of months in Secessia? I fancy I see myself still in
Richmond or Salisbury, pacing those filthy floors, and
that he who dashes the pen across the page is another
identical form of my developed consciousness.
More fortunate, as I was, than most of my fellowprisoners, still am I surprised that I did not perish in
pure self-defense. What motives or purpose had I
to cling to the Planet? Perhaps, unwittingly, my instincts held me, and informed me vaguely of the day of
deliverance.




320           FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.
All that sombre Past appears now like a nightmare
dream, and this restoration to a free and normal condition
the glad awakening. The recent realities seem shadows;
and yet they were such shadows as struck terror to the
soul of the tyrant-king.
While one beholds the vast, throbbing, rushing life of
the great, free, enlightened North, he finds it difficult to
believe but a few days divide him from the meanness
and misery, the despair and death and horror, that were
the constant companions of the helpless victims immured
in the prison-pens of the South.




PHOTOGRAPHS OF HORROR.


321


CHAPTER      XLIII.
PHOTOGRAPHS OF HORROR.
Great Influx of Prisoners at Salisbury.-Barbarity of the Enemy.-Intense
Suffering and Wholesale Murder of the Captives.-Pen Pictures of the Prison.
-Agonizing Scenes.-Enlistment of our Soldiers in the Rebel. Service.
-Shuddering Strangeness of the Past.-The Secretary of War Responsible for
the Sacrifice of Ten Thousand Lives.
AFTER nine months of confinement, at Salisbury, some
ten thousand enlisted men were sent thither from Richmond and other points; and then began a reign of pain
and horror such as I had not believed could exist in this
Republic under any circumstances.
Our poor soldiers had been robbed of their blankets,
overcoats, often their shoes and blouses, and were sent
there in inclement weather, and turned for some weeks
into the open inclosure without shelter.
After a while they were given tents capable of accommodating about half their number; and there they began
to sicken and die from     cold and hunger-the rations
being sometimes only a piece of corn bread in forty-eight
hours, until the daily mortality ranged from twenty-five
to forty-five per day.
The soldiers dug holes in the earth and under the different buildings in the yard, constructed mud hutj and
shelters of baked clay, showing extraordinary energy
and industry to shield themselves from wind and storm.




322


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


But their attire was so scant, and their diet so mean and
meager, that they died necessarily by hundreds.
Hospital after hospital-by which I mean buildings
with a little straw on the floor, and sometimes without
any straw or other accommodation-was opened, and the
poor victims of Rebel barbarity were packed into them
like sardines in a box.
the hospitals were generally cold, always dirty and
without ventilation, being little else than a protection
from the weather.
The patients-God bless them, how patient they were!
-had no change of clothes, and could not obtain water
sufficient to wash themselves.
Nearly all of them suffering from bowel complaints,
and many too weak to move or be moved, one can imagine to what a state they were soon reduced.
The air of those slaughter-houses, as the prisoners were
wont to call them, was overpowering and pestiferous.
It seemed to strike you like a pestilential force on
entrance, and the marvel was it did not poison all the
sources of life at once.
Imagine nine or ten thousand scantily clad, emaciated,
woe-begone soldiers-unnamed heroes, who had battled
for our sacred cause on twenty blood-drenched fields-in
an inclosure of five or six acres, half of them without
other shelter than holes they had dug in the earth, or
under the small buildings employed as hospitals.
The weather is cold; perhaps a chilly rain is falling,
or the ground is covered with snow. There are the
soldiers-hundreds of them with naked feet, and only
light blouses or shirts, hungry, feeble, despairing of the




PHOTOGRAPHS OF HORROR.


323


Present and hopeless of the Future-huddling over a
small and smoky fire of green wood, in a crowded tent,
whose very atmosphere is poisonous; or standing shivering against the outside of the chimneys of the squalid
hospitals, hoping to warm their blood a little from the
partially heated bricks; or drawn up in their narrow
caves, inhaling the curling emanations of the burning
pine, and striving to shelter themselves from the bitter
wind; or begging, with pallid and trembling lips, for
shelter at the door of those lazar-houses where their companions in arms are lying in dirt, distress, and despair,
breathing out their lives at the rate of thirty and forty
a day.
Look into those hospitals-strange perversion of the
name!-which are small brick and log buildings, twentyfive by sixty feet, and see how a people who boast of
their generosity and chivalry can tr6at the prisoners they
have taken in honorable warfare.
There lie the prisoners, in the scant and tattered
clothes they were graciously permitted by the Rebels to
keep, filthy from the impossibility of obtaining water to
wash themselves, with no beds nor bedding, no covering
even, perchance without straw; tossing and groaning
their miserable lives away.
Fires blaze at one end, it may be at both ends, of the
tenements; but the heat extends not far, and the cold
wind rushes in from the broken windows and through
the crevices in the walls; while the air is mephitic and
noisome to such a degree, that when you breathe it first
it is almost suffocating.
What a ghastly line of faces and of figures! To have




324:


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


seen them once is to remember them always. They are
more like skeletons in rags than human beings. Ever
and anon some of them strive to rise and obey such
calls as Nature makes; and a companion, less weak and
wasted than they, bears them, as if they were children,
over the dirt-incrusted floor, and lays them down again to
suffer to the end.
Here lies a boy of sixteen or seventeen-whose mother,
in some far-off Northern home, is praying for him every
night and morning; to whom sisters are writing words
of cheer and sympathy he will never see-muttering in
fever, and beckoning with shrunken hands to forms no
mortal eye can discover, but which may be waiting to
bear his brave young spirit home.
There is a gray-haired man, who left his farm and fireside when the traitorous gun at Sumter woke a world to
arms. He has passed unscathed through forty battles,
to die an unrecorded hero here.
His eyes are fixed, and his minutes are numbered.
Children and grand-children will look with anxious faces
at all dispatches and letters from the Army of the Potomac, but will not learn, for months, the fate of one who
was only a private.
"Is this man here?" carefully inquires a soldier, looking in at the door and reading the address of a letter.
The answer is in the affirmative, and the ward-master
calls out, "Mr.-, here's a Northern letter for you."
There is no eagerness to hear. The person addressed
does not even turn his head.
Strange, for he has waited many weary weeks to see
the characters of that well-known hand; has dreamed




PHOTOGRAPHS OF HORROR.


325


night after night, amid the pauses of his pain, of reading
the sweet assurances of his dear wife's love.
These are the words: "Dearest Husband: I have not
heard from you for months. I can not believe any harm
has befallen you; for I have faith that Heaven will restore you to me at once. I feel sure my deep and earnest
prayers have been answered; that my affection will be
as a shield to you, and my fond bosom again be your
pillow."
Blessed words! what would he give if he could behold
them. Alas! they have come too late. Her love has
been lost in a greater love, and the life that is in a life to
come.
Through all the day and night corpses are carried from
the hospitals to the dead-house, where the bodies are
piled up like logs of wood, until the rude cart into which
they are thrown is driven off with its ghastly freight.
At any hour one may see men bearing across the inclosure the pallid and wasted figure of a soldier, whom
the Rebels had starved or frozen to death with malice
prepense.
There goes into the dead-house a young man who, four
years ago, was the idol of his circle.
Possessed of beauty, genius, fortune, friends-all that
could make Earth sweet-he quitted the attractions of a
life of ease and a luxurious home, and took up his musket that his country might be truly free.
Not even she who loved him better than a sister, more
intensely than a mother, would recognize him among the
heaped up dead.
The unclosed eye and gaping jaw make that once hand



326


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


some face hideous to view; and suffering, and neglect,
and cruelty, have changed it into a vision of repulsiveness and horror.
But why seek to paint these scenes which defy description? Everywhere is pain, squalor, and horror.
All day long, one sees wretched, haggard, sick, and
dying men in every part of the inclosure. Their faces
tell their story-an unwritten epic in the saddest numbers. Their wasted forms reveal the inhumanity and
"barbarity of a savage foe. Amid all that assemblage of
thousands of men, though the sun shines, and the birds
sing in the groves near by, not a laugh nor a jest is heard
-not the faintest sound of merrymaking.
Not a single face relaxes into a smile; every eye is
dull with despondency; every cheek sunken with want;
every lip trembling with unuttered pain.
Disease anZ1 Death there hold high carnival, and the
mirror of misery is held up to every vacant stare.
The air is heavy with plaints, and prayers, and groans,
and over that accursed camp hangs the pall of despair.
Guercino could paint no darker picture. Indeed, no
limner, no artist in words or colors, could give a just
idea of the scenes of that terrestrial Tophet.
Suffering everywhere, and no power to relieve it. In
every tent and hole in the ground, wherever you tread
or turn, gaunt and ghastly men, perishing by inches,
glare on you like accusing spectres, until you find yourself forced to exclaim, " Thank God, I am not responsible
for this!"
Little, if any thing, could be done for them medically.
Hunger and exposure could not be remedied by the




PHOTOGRAPHS OF HORROR.


327


materia medica; and to seek to heal them by ordinary
means was like endeavoring to animate the grave.
What advantage had quinine and opium when they
could get neither bread nor raiment? The sending of
physicians into the Prison limits was a ghastly farce, for
the Rebel officers premeditatedly starved and froze our
brave men, hoping to compel the Government to exchange, or to force the soldiers into the Southern service.
Hundreds of the privates, anxious to save their lives,
joined the enemy, trusting to the future to escape. I
can not blame them. Who could demand that they
should await certain destruction in the form of disease,
and cold, and hunger, when relief was offered them even
by a cruel and barbarous foe? No, I cannot censure
those who forgot in such fearful hours all but their own
salvation; yet I can find no language too strong to praise
the heroes that stood firm when they seemed deserted by
their friends, their country, and their God.
The Rebels, apparently not content with the ravages of
disease, almost entirely superinduced by starvation and
cold, fired upon the wretched prisoners whenever the
humor seized them; killing and wounding them without
reason or pretext. The guards seemed influenced by a
diabolical spirit, shooting men in their tents, and in holes
in the ground, seemingly in the merest wantonness.
No one was safe.   Whenever a sentinel felt in the
mood, he would murder a "Yankee" without being
removed from his post, or even asked why he did it.
Again, and again, I myself saw soldiers fired upon by the
guard, and that too when they were transgressing no rule,
and violating no order whatever.




328


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


My readers may well ask, what motive had the enemy
for such nefarious crimes? I can only answer, that I
have often put that question to myself; that I am utterly
at a loss to conceive his motive; that he seemed actuated
only by a fiendish malignity, to maim and murder as
many Yankees as possible.
On the 25th of November last, a few of the prisoners,
perhaps a hundred or two, feeling that their condition was
entirely desperate; that they were being deliberately murdered by starvation and exposure, determined to attempt
an outbreak; knowing they could, at the worst, only be
killed, and that death was almost certain if they remained
in prison. Such arrangements as were practicable they
speedily made, without giving any intimation to the
other captives; and, about one o'clock in the afternoon,
fell upon the relief-guard, some twenty in number, when
they entered the inclosure, and seized their muskets.,
Some of the guard resisted, and a fight occurred, in
which two of the Rebels were killed and five or six
wounded, with about the same loss on the part of the
insurgents.
The alarm was immediately given. The whole garrison mounted the parapet; and though, in a minute, the
emeute was suppressed, the effort to get out of the gate
having failed, they began firing indiscriminately upon
the prisoners, albeit it was evident to the dullest observer that the great majority had nothipg whatever to do
with what was called the insurrection.
The prisoners, seeing they were to be shot down in
cold blood, took refuge in the tents, behind the outbuildings and hospitals, and in the caves they had dug. But




PHOTOGRAPHS OF HORROR.


329


that made no difference. The Rebels discharged two of
the field-pieces bearing on the camp, and continued firing
into the tents upon the poor captives, who were trying to
screen themselves from the murderous balls.
For fully half an hour the shooting went on, and, in
that time, some seventy men were killed and wounded,
not one of whom, I venture to say, had any intimation of
the outbreak before it was undertaken, and who were as
guiltless of any attempt at insurrection as infants unborn.
That was a fair example of the animus of the foe. He
found a pretext for wholesale slaughter, and availed himself of it to the uttermost.
Woe to those who are responsible for all that hideous
suffering; to the inhuman Rebels who plundered our
poor soldiers of their clothing, and turned them into that
filthy pen to die; who had store-houses full of provisions, and yet starved their unfortunate captives with a
fiendish persistency which one must be a believer in
total depravity to understand!
The truth is, the minds of the Southern people have for
many years been so abused by their leaders and newspapers; their source of information respecting the North
has been so poisoned; the feelings, opinions, habits, and
intentions of the Free States have been so grossly misrepresented, that it is not singular the loyal citizens of the
Republic should be regarded by those dupes as thieves
and assassins, barbarians and monsters.
The Southern people, as a class, have had no means of
judging of the Northerners, for they rarely traveled, or
met socially those who had traveled; and the consequence
was, they believed whatever absurd and infamous state



330


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


ments they heard from their demagogues, or read in their
newspapers.
For at least ten years-twenty-five would be nearer the
truth-the South has been carefully and constantly stimulated and goaded into the bitterest hatred of, and direct
enmity to, the North. The Southern leaders had long
prepared for the overthrow of the Government, and
believing the time ripe 'when Mr. Lincoln was elected,
undertook the aggressive form of treason.
Secession became a mania. It drove the embracers of
the doctrine mad. All their worst passions were enkindled by it, and they swept through four years of agony
and war to break themselves in pieces at the feet of the
magnanimous and triumphant Nation.
Now that I have escaped from that Hades of Salisbury, I marvel how I ever endured to breathe that pestilential air; how I continued, week after week and month
after month, to keep my hold upon that dark point of
the Planet.
Truly, it seems like a nightmare dream; and I can
hardly realize I ever lived, and walked, and labored, in
that place of shuddering horrors.
While I sit writing in an easy-chair, glancing out of
the window at the gay throng of the ever-changing
Broadway, hear the peals of Trinity and the vast roar of
the Metropolis, I wonder if I have not been drowsing,
after reading Poe, and following his ghastly fancies into
the mystic sphere of sleep.
It is not real, I think. With all this bustle, and
energy, and beauty, and plenty, and enlightenment, and
Christianity about me, it cannot be that a thousand miles




PHOTOGRAPHS OF HORROR.


331


away hundreds of heroes, who had borne our flag on
dozens of immortal fields, died every week from the premeditated cruelty of the Rebels.
Surely it cannot be, for the Government was aware of
all the atrocities of Southern prisons: it had heard the
story over and over again from the lips of sufferers; and,
if it had been as was represented, the Government would
certainly have made some effort to relieve its stanch
supporters and its brave defenders.
Alas! the story is too true; it is written in thousands
of unknown graves, whose occupants, when alive, criedto the Government for redress, and yet cried in vain!
As soon as Mr. Richardson and myself reached our
lines, we determined to visit Washington even before
returning to New York, to see what could be done for
the poor prisoners we had left behind, and determine
what obstacles there had been in the way of an exchange.
We were entirely free. We owed nothing to the Rebels
nor to the Government for our release. We had obtained:
our own liberty, and were very glad of it; for we believed our captives had been so unfairly, not to say
inhumanly, treated at Washington, that we were unwilling to be indebted to authorities of that city for our
emancipation.
We went to Washington-deferring every thing else to
move in the matter of prisoners-and did what we
thought most effective for the end we had in view. During our sojourn there, we made it our special business to
inquire into the causes of the detention of Union prisoners in the South, although it was known they were
being deliberately starved and frozen by the Rebels. We
22




332


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


particularly endeavored to learn who was responsible for
the murder-for it was nothing else-of thousands of our
brave soldiers; and we did learn. There was but one
answer to all our questions; and that was, Edwin M.
Stanton, Secretary of War.
Although he knew the exact condition of affairs in the
Rebel prisons, he always insisted that we could not
afford to exchange captives with the South; that it was
not policy. Perhaps it was not; but it was humanity,
and possibly that is almost as good as policy in other,eyes than Mr. Stanton's.
After bur departure from Washington, such a storm
-was raised about the Secretary's ears-such a tremendous outside feeling was created-that he was compelled
to make an exchange.
The greater part of the Northern prisoners have now
been released, I believe; but there was no more reason
"why they should have been paroled or exchanged since
February than there was ten or twelve months ago. No,complications, no obstacles had been removed in the
mean time. Our prisoners might just as well have been
released a year since as a month since; and if they had
been, thousands of lives would have been saved to the
Republic, not to speak of those near and dear ones who
were materially and spiritually dependent upon them.
Dreadful responsibility for some one; and that some
one, so far as I can learn, is the Secretary of War. I
hope I may be in error, but I cannot believe I am. If I
am right, Heaven forgive him! for the people will not.
The ghosts of the thousand needlessly sacrificed heroes
will haunt him to his grave.




TUNNELS AND TUNNELING.


333


CHAPTER XLIV.
TUNNELS AND TUNNELING.
Respect for Tunnels.-Their attractive and absorbing Power.-Tunneling at
Castle Thunder.-Difficulty of their construction.-The Libby Prison Enterprise.-Uncertainty of their Completion.-Frequency of Excavations at Salisbury.-Desires to Obtain Subterranean Freedom.-Ideal Regrets.
SINCE my incarceration in Rebel Prisons I have had a
profound respect for the Thames Tunnel; because, unlike
those with which I had the fortune to be connected in
Secessia, it was an established success. J
Well was it for th6 fame of Brunnell I had no interest
in his great enterprise, which in that event would, I am
confident, never have been carried out.
Tunnels were my thought by day and my dream by
night for nearly twenty months.
I was always a large stockholder in some Tunnel contemplated, begun, or completed.
I helped to plan Tunnels; watched over them; sat up
with them; crept into them and out of them; but, alas!
never crept through one of them.
Freedom was in some way associated in my mind with a
Tunnel.
I fancied Adam must have crawled into Paradise
through a Tunnel.
A Tunnel to me was the greatest work of Man.




334


FOUR YEARS IN SEOESSIA.


Dig a Tunnel, and get out of it, appeared the injunction
of the Gods!
With attent ear I heard the divine injunction; and yet
its latter portion I could not obey. Witness all those
weary, dreary months, how often and how energetically
I tried, and only tried to fail!
In the Libby Prison the Union officers had no opportunity to dig a Tunnel while I was there, their quarters
being too far removed from mother Earth. But when I
was removed to Castle Thunder I fell in with a number
of amateur engineers, who believed the way to Liberty
lay through the sacred soil of Virginia.
They so believed, and acted upon their belief. Tunnel
after Tunnel was made there; but they were always so
long in its construction, that it was either exposed by
traitors, or discovered by the officials.
It is singular how much the prisoners accomplished
with slender means. They rarely had more than a case
knife or an old hinge; and yet with that they would dig,
in a few days, a hole large enough to admit the body of a
man, through ten and even twenty feet of earth.
The greatest difficulties in the construction of a Tunnel
are the disposition of the dirt and the lack of fresh air,
which, as soon as the excavation is carried to a distance,
very soon becomes exhausted.
A Tunnel is so old and well-known a means of egress
from Prison, that the authorities are ever on the alert to
find one; and the appearance of any quantity of dirt
would at once excite suspicion. Hence the greatest precaution is necessary.  Haversacks and small bags are
brought into requisition, and the dirt is carried, little by




TUNNELS AND TUNNELING.


335


little, from the mouth of the Tunnel to some place where
it will not attract attention.
Operators usually select some spot where they think
they will not be interrupted, near the outside limits of
the Prison, and go to work. They toil like beavers,
laboring often day and night with changes of hands,
because they feel the danger of delay. I have known
numerous Tunnels to be discovered because their completion had beeii deferred over a single night.
At Castle Thunder, by getting down into an old storeroom below the Court-Martial room, as it was termed,
one could begin his Tunnel beside the rear wall of
the Prison, skirting an alley fifteen feet wide; and as
few persons went there, the prospect of disturbance was
small.
The design was to commence digging in the morning,
and finish it before dawn the following day. That never
could be accomplished, or at least never was while I
remained there. If it had been, I should have gotten out
certainly.; for I frequently sat up watching the progress
of the subterranean bore, all ready to wake my companions, and depart at a moment's notice.
-During the five months I was at the Castle, more than
a dozen Tunnels must have been constructed, all running
under the alley mentioned, and designed to come up the
other side of the fence, out of sight of the sentinels,
where one could have walked through a military-hospital
yard to Main-street, and made good his retreat,
The most extensive and successful Tunnel in the South,
during my compulsory sojourn there, was that made by
the officers at the Libby Prison, in the month of February,




336


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


'63, by which over one hundred and twenty escaped,
and some sixty-five got through into our lines.
There the officers had ample leisure to work, and were
engaged three or four weeks in the enterprise. They
removed the bricks of a hearth in a store-room on the
ground floor, cut through a stone wall two feet thick, and
then began the Tunnel proper, which was carried some
fifty or sixty feet into an inclosure, passing the prisoners
under, and placing them beyond, the beat of the sentinels.
The officers relieved each other constantly, and conducted their labor so adroitly that Major Turner had not
the faintest suspicion of what was going on.
When so large a number was missed, the morning after
the escape, the Rebel authorities were nonplused. They
could not imagine, for an hour, what had become of them.
They went to the store-room and searched carefully, but
still could find nothing of the Tunnel; nor was it till late
in the afternoon that they made the discovery.
The nature of Tunnels is such, that the work necessarily makes slow progress. As soon as they are fairly
started, and the operator is below the surface, he is compelled to lie flat on his face, at full length, and, using his
knife, or whatever implement he may have, he throws the
dirt behind him, which is gathered up by an assistant,
and removed in a pan or bag.
The mole performance is continued day after day until
it is supposed the Tunnel is ready to be tapped or
opened. That is an important matter, and it is requisite
that the distance be accurately measured. Awkward
mistakes and needless discoveries have been made by
neglect of proper precautions in that respect.
I remember distinctly a Tunnel by which the Corre



TUNNELS AND TUNNELING.


spondent of the Cincinnati Gazette and myself expected
to escape at Salisbury, during the month of November.
We were assured it would be ready for opening at ten
o'clock; but after examining it, and sitting up with it
until after twelve, we concluded there was no hope for it
that night, and we went disappointed to our bunks. The
next morning, about daylight, it was tapped, and came
up nearly two feet this side of the inclosure instead of the
other side. And, to complete the ill fortune, a Rebel
officer stepped into it before noon the same day.
A woman's humor is not more uncertain than a
Tunnel.
I never knew any man to make a correct calculation of
the time of a Tunnel's completion. But you can always
conclude, when its engineers declare positively that it
will be done in two days, that it will still require some
finishing strokes at the close of a week. Tunnels linger
longer than rich relatives whom expectant heirs are
waiting to bury.
Two or three begun at Salisbury, that were to be completed by November 1st, were only half dug in the
middle of December.
The truth is, that the operators are so anxious to finish
a Tunnel that they calculate their capacity for performance, even with their wretched implements, by the
intensity of their desire.
When we three Bohemians escaped from Salisbury,
there were four Tunnels completeq, and at least seven
more in a half-finished state.  The former would have
been tapped weeks before, had not some wretches who
had been interested in them enlisted in the Rebel service,
and exposed them to the authorities.




338


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


The officers of the prison could not find where they
were located, or exactly where they were to come out;
but they placed extra guards at all the points designated,
so preventing any chance of escape.
We regretted that greatly, because we preferred to
pass out of a Tunnel, as we could then have carried with
us blankets and provisions; but, going in the way we
did, we were compelled to travel light.
I was anxious to realize my long dream, and pass to
the outer World, from which I had been so long separated, by a Tunnel; but when I found myself fairly free,
I ceased to mourn that my long-cherished hopes as to the
means of exit had been blasted.
A Tunnel is a Tunnel; but Liberty is Liberty; and
the'latter is acceptable in any form, while the former
alone is but an abstraction.
Possessing Freedom, I have small general regrets that a
Tunnel did not help me to it; though in my loftiest
moods I lament in spirit that a Tunnel, on whose tawny
bosom I had lain, like a subterranean Antony hanging
upon an earthy Cleopatra's lips, bore me not to the upper
air and the blessings of the disenthralled.
In my rapt moments of the Future, in my visions of
the Night, I shall still dwell on the perfidy of Tunnelsthe Elfridas of excavations. I shall, perhaps, endeavormy mind going back to the dreariness and horror I have
left behind-to pass out of some Broadway Hotel by
undermining the Brussels carpet, and carrying out the
-ottoman in an imaginary haversack, and so realize in
sleep the passionate prompting of Prison hours, distant,
thank Heaven! and departed, I trust, forever.




MUGGING.


339


CHAPTER XLV.
MUGGING.
The Meaning of the Term.-Who the Muggers were.-Their Plan of Opera:
tion.-Character of their Victims.-Indifference of the Authorities on the
Subject.-Flogging of Northern Deserters.-Their Cruel Treatment.-Mugging
in Richmond and Salisbury.-Its Reduction to a System.-Our Own Soldiers
in the Business.-A Vigilance Committee Proposed.
FEW of our readers who have enjoyed the blessings
of freedom all their lives will understand the meaning
of the caption of this chapter, the purpose of which is
to explain in detail what the term represents.
(Mugging is the argot expression for robbing, and one
of the most popular words in the Southern-Prison lexi.
con. Every place in Secessia where miscellaneous captives are held contains its Muggers in abundance. They
were originally Rebels, but so demoralizing was their
example, and so extensive their practice, that they added
quite a number of our own men to their ranks.
In the Libby, being in the officers' quarters, we saw
no mugging, although a great deal of it was going on in
other parts of the Prison; and after we were removed to
Castle Thunder and the Salisbury Penitentiary, we were
daily witnesses of its operations.
The chief Muggers in every instance were Rebels,natural thieves, born bullies, and thoroughly-developed
ruffians,-who had lost their liberty by deserting, swin



340


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


dling, stealing, and violating in various ways the military
as well as the civil law. A few of them formed the
nucleus for all the rascals who might be consigned to the
Prison from time to time; and as they were organized,
they had strength, and large capacity for mischief.
The Muggers, like most bullies and ruffians, manifested
a fine discrimination respecting the party they attacked,
selecting those they thought they could rob with little
resistance and entire impunity.
Any person they saw fit to make their victim had small
chance of escape. They would fall on him at night in
numbers, throw a blanket over his head, hold him down,
and rifle his clothes at will, the surrounding darkness
preventing him from determining who were the robbers.
If he resisted, he was cruelly beaten, and often was so
served when he submitted quietly to the plunderers.
They generally selected some unsophisticated fellow or
ruralist to "go through," as they termed it, and did it
most effectually. The unfortunate, at first taken by surprise, and then terrified by the terrible threats they
would make in the event of his raising an alarm, would
permit himself to be robbed without an outward protest
or murmur; and in the morning would find himself
moneyless, coatless, shoeless, and hatless.
Sometimes I have known men to be completely stripped
of their clothing, and cruelly belabored beside. Probably the victim would not be aware who the Muggers
were; and if he did, would be afraid to expose them to
the authorities, on account of the sanguinary menaces
promulgated against all informers.
That honest men should be plundered and beaten by




MUGGING.


341


scoundrels who were notorious, and be prevented by
apprehension of physical consequences from giving their
names, is a hardship, independent of the severity of
Prison, which must be difficult to endure. The principal Muggers were very well known in Richmond and
Salisbury to the commandants there; but only in a few
instances were they punished.
As the "Yankees" were for the most part the sufferers,-the Southern captives had little to lose,-perhaps
the authorities felt no disposition to cast over them the
mantle of protection. Whatever the cause, they most
shamefully failed to perform their duty. They said, if
they could obtain the Muggers' names, they should be
severely punished; but made no effort to ferret out the
perpetrators of the outrages. They could have put a
stop to the nefarious practice in forty-eight hours, if they
would have done so, as was shown by the flogging at
Salisbury of a dozen Northern deserters who had been
guilty of mugging their own class.
Captain G. W. Alexander, who inflicted the punishment, refrained from bestowing it upon the Rebel convicts, although they were far worse than our deserters,proving that his conduct arose from passion instead of
principle. Indeed, he afterwards ordered a number of
lashes given to the unfortunate deserters because an
attempt had been made to escape from their quarters,
and they would not expose the parties who had participated in the enterprise.
That was infamous; and plainly indicated that Alexander, who was at heart a brute and bully,-and, if the
opinion of his intimates might be trusted, not possessed




342


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


of that extraordinary courage to which he pretended,would have flogged every prisoner at Salisbury, if he
had dared, for the smallest infraction of discipline. The
deserters had no friends, North or South, and he fell on
them for that reason.
Little love have I for our deserters or for Muggers;
but when I saw them tied to a whipping-post, and lashed
with a leather thong by a muscular Sergeant, my blood
boiled with indignation, and every nerve in my body
thrilled.
The punishment seemed an insult to the Race, and
degraded, I thought, all who witnessed it.
Although Alexander, when he whipped the deserters,
sent armed soldiers to all the Prison quarters to compel
attendance in the yard, for the purpose of witnessing the
revolting spectacle, I always contrived to avoid being
present.
Years before, my pulses had throbbed and my blood
leaped to my cheek when I had accidentally seen negroes
lashed in the South,-thank Heaven, I shall see no more
of that ignominious brutality in this fair country!-and
I was in no better frame of mind, years after, to witness
the beating of members of the Caucasian family.
When the mugging continued; when old and innocent
men were pounded so severely that they could not be
removed from the hospital for weeks, merely because
they were unwilling to be robbed of what served for
their physical salvation; when, night after night, the
most brutal assaults were made by the worst of ruffians
upon all who had any thing to lose, I changed my opinion
somewhat; concluding that if whipping were the only




MUGGING.


343


remedy for mugging,-which I did not believe,-it ought
to be well laid on.
Our deserters I rather pitied, when I found they were
made the scapegoats for others' offenses; that the Rebels
took advantage of their position to treat them with undeserved harshness. Who ever heard of a people, unless
they were "chivalrous," imprisoning and persecuting
the soldiers who, they were bound to suppose, had fled
from our Army to theirs out of sympathy with the
Southern cause.?
At Castle Thunder, in Richmond, the Mugging was
mainly confined to two of the rooms of the Prison, one
of them immediately above the apartment in which I was
confined.
Almost nightly a rush would be made on the floor
above; several bodies would be heard to fall; perhaps
a loud outcry, with "murder, murder, murder" attachments; then a heavy struggle and a general confusion,
followed by a return of quietude.
Those were the mugging demonstrations, and rarely
attracted any attention.
In the morning, several new men would report that
they had been robbed and beaten; though they would be
entirely ignorant of the perpetrators, as the assault had
been committed in the darkness.
No investigation would be made, no inquiry established. The whole thing would be taken as a matter
of course, and repeated as soon as any fresh subjects
presented themselves.
At the Penitentiary in Salisbury, Mugging was reduced
to a system.




344


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Men were frequently mugged in the Prison-yard. Several of the band would gather round the intended victim,
who on a sudden would be thrown to the ground; his
pockets turned inside out; his coat and hat, sometimes
his shoes, taken; after which he would be let alone until
he obtained more money or clothes to invite a fresh
attack.
The Rebel room, in the third story, where the convicts
were confined, was the principal field for mugging. The
wildest cries of pain and terror emanated from that quarter every night or two; and daylight would reveal some
poor fellow with black eyes, swelled lip, and badly cut
face, deprived of all his valuables and a large portion of
his clothes.
The Rebels would be abroad at an early hour, and
dispose of their stolen goods to some of the guards who
were in league with them; thus removing all traces of
the theft.
Complaint, as I have said, proved of no avail.
The authorities would return the stereotyped answer:
Point out the men who robbed you, and they shall be
punished.
The victims, even if they knew the thieves, were afraid
to give the names, knowing they would be beaten half
to death as soon as they were shut up again with the
convicts.
So far as my observation extended, the officers of the
Prison seemed to favor the most notorious scoundrels of
the place, provided they were on their side. They reserved their wrath for the Northern deserters, who soon
"became weary of the mugging business, from the fact




MUGGING.


345


that they were made to answer for the sins of all the
other thieves without reaping any fair proportion of the
ill-gotten gains.
No attempt was ever made to mug either my confrere
or myself, although we frequently anticipated and prepared ourselves for an attack, in conjunction with some
more muscular allies, offensive and defensive.
Frequently we lay down with clubs under our heads,
and slept, as the phrase is, with one eye open.
Amiable as we were by nature, the constant repetition of such outrages made us feel a trifle bellicose; and
we concluded, if we were mugged, we would endeavor
to give the muggers something to show for it.
Well perhaps for our expectations and our physical
condition, the experiment was never tried on us. We
were not sorry, for we did not regard it as an experience
we particularly needed.
When the nine or ten thousand Union soldiers were
sent to Salisbury, many of the most worthless formed a
league with the Rebels, and the two forces carried matters with a high hand up to the time of our escape. Robberies continually occurred. Men were stabbed, and
their skulls cracked; some thrown out of the windows,
and their necks broken; but the authorities in no manner
interfered.
The better class of prisoners talked seriously of instituting a "Vigilance Committee," and hanging some of
the principal Muggers, as had been done at Andersonville, Georgia, a few months before-by the by, four of
the individuals executed there had gone from Salisbury,
where they had been held as deserters,-but no definite




346           FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.
plan of action had been agreed upon at the period of our
hegira.
Justice, which had long slumbered at Salisbury, fell,
I fear, into a sleep too deep for waking.




I -


F    o


)\\ )
/ r/<


/4


UNION BUSHWHACKERS ATTACKINGi REBEL CAVALRY.








DESPERATE ESCAPE.


347


CHAPTER XLVI.
DESPERATE ESCAPE.
Constant Effort of Prisoners for Freedom.-Practicability verss Planning.A Trio of Desperadoes.-Cause of their Extraordinary Gayety.-Their Remarkable Exodus.
IN Prison, the inmates think and talk of little beside
escape.
To them, freedom is everything; all else, nothing.
By day and night they revolve one plan and another
in their mind; hope and despond; try and are frustrated;
attempt and are punished.     Yet they return to their
favorite idea, and endeavor and re-endeavor, though
failure ever follows. Dungeons and bayonets have little
restraining influence.
Few men who will not brave the possibilities of death,
when freedom beckons, and they are encircled by the
horrors of a Rebel Prison.
How well I remember the numerous trials and failures
of my confrere and myself to escape! It seemed as if
we never could get out. Our genius, we thought, did
not lie in that direction. Our plans were elaborate, and
so were our preparations. We speculated constantly oh
what we might do; talked of the feasible in our blankets
far into the night, amid the pulsings of the stars and the
ravages of insects.
While we theorized grandly, some dull fellow, with
23




348


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


only one idea, but that in the right direction, got out,
and brought us, with our fine reasoning and subtile calcu.
lations, to overwhelming shame.
Was the fault with us, or with the Gods?
It matters not now, for at last the Gods were kind.
While at Castle Thunder, we were taught what enterprise and nerve will accomplish.
Three prisoners on capital charges were in the condemned cell, heavily ironed. They were desperate fellows, no doubt, and endured their situations very
cheerfully-laughing, singing, and howling in the most
uproarious style.
Their gayety seemed to increase daily; for they soon
began dancing in their chains, and dropping their iron
balls on the floor as if sporting with their misfortunes.
This latter entertainment they kept up so regularly, I
began to suspect there was meaning in it, and that it
covered a design.
Nor was I mistaken, as the sequel proved.
About two o'clock we heard a row and a rush below;
the discharge of several muskets, and the general indications of a disturbance. We could learn nothing then;
but after breakfast,-the eating of a piece of corn-bread,
the throwing away of a bit of fat, rancid bacon, and the
swallowing of a cup of water, was so denominated in the
Castle,-we were apprised of the adventure of the turbulent trio.
It appears they had made all the noise to drown the
sawing through of the floor which was over a store-room;
and at an hour of the night or morning when the sentinels
were apt to be careless, they took up a part of the




DESPERATE ESCAPE.


349


"boards, and slowly and silently slipped into the under
apartment, having let themselves down by strips of a
blanket they had torn up for that purpose.
The enterprising scoundrels then quietly forced open a
window into a passage leading to the street door of the
Prison; and in the shadow of that quarter seized three
muskets placed against the wall on racks. They then
rushed upon the guard nearest them, and struck him
with the butt of the piece, knocking him senseless over
an iron railing that ran across the passage.
The outer sentinel saw this movement, and prepared
for it, bringing his gun to the position of a charge. He
had mistaken his men, if he supposed that would stop
them. They dashed upon him, and he was just on the
point of firing, when the nearest prisoner discharged the
contents of his musket into the breast of the guard, literally tearing his breast to pieces, and of course killing
him instantly.
They then ran into the street, past the outer sentinels,
who were too much surprised to act, and who forgot to
use their muskets until too late. The fugitives were
nearly to Seventeenth street, when the Rebels gave a
dropping fire as harmless as it was useless. The alarm
was given, and the garrison of the.Prison beaten to arms,
but no traces of the bold prisoners could be found.
Where they went, how they went, and by what route,
was never known; but a week or ten days after, their
arrival at Fortress Monroe was publicly announced.
They had gallantly earned their freedom, and I hope
they enjoyed it more honestly and worthily than I fear
they did before they became inmates of the Castle.




350


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER XLVIL
UNION BUSHWHACKERS.
Cause of Bushwhackers.-Repulsiveness of the Custom.-Its Excuse.-Their
Sufferings and Wrongs.-Collisions with Home-Guards.-Victories of Union
Men.-Terror of their Name.-The Vendetta in the Mountains.-Virtues of
the Southern Royalists.-War of Extermination.-A Fearful Avenger.
BUSHWHACKERS are peculiar features of this War, which
indeed gave them birth.    So much has been said, and so
little is known, of them, that a chapter on their life, manners, and habits, cannot be out of place in a volume like
this. During my long march from Salisbury to Strawberry Plains, I had abundance of opportunities to make
their acquaintance, learn their history, and observe their
idiosyncrasies.,
This grpat struggle has made Bushwhackers on both
sides; but it is of the Union class I propose to speak.
They are confined to the Border States, or to those sections where political feeling is greatly divided; where
military power has usurped the right of the people, and
compelled them to resist aggression by the most stealthy
and deadly means.
It is difficult for an honorable or a courageous man,
who has seen aught of military life, to endure, much less
sanction, bushwhacking. All one's instincts revolt at it.
It is slaughter without any of the palliating circumstances
of hot blood, generous passion, struggle for principle.




UNION BUSHWHACKERS.


351


It is treacherous, coldly calculating, brutal; and yet,
"believing all that, I cannot find it in my heart to blame
many of the men who resort to it in the mountainous
regions of North Carolina and Tennessee.
They were quiet, peaceable, industrious, loyal; opposed
to the doctrine of Secession, and all its attendant heresies;
the natural antagonists of the Slaveholders; lovers of the
Union for the Union's sake, and regarded as an enemy
whoever would seek its destruction.
When the Rebels brought on the War, those loyalists
held themselves aloof, determined to take no part in it
unless on the side of the Republic.
The contest continued, and the Conscription Act was
passed. Then those innocent and patriotic citizens were
forced either to enter the insurgent army or run away;
leaving their property and wives and children-all they
held most dear-behind them, and seek some new locality
that, to their slender observation and limited knowledge,
appeared like another sphere.
Domestic by nature and habits, they were unwilling to
quit their firesides and the few acres that had been and
were their World. They would rather die than surrender
all they valued in life. Yet they could not stay at home.
If not carried off to the army, they were hunted, harried,
persecuted; driven into the woods and mountains like
wild beasts. Frequently they were killed or wounded
by the Home-Guards; oftener captured and sent bound
to Richmond, where they were put into the field.
At the earliest opportunity they would desert, of course,
and return to their humble dwellings. Then would begin
the persecution anew. They had forfeited their lives by




352


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


desertion. Whenever the Guard saw them, they would be
fired on.
It is not difficult to conceive how a few months of such
experience would transform a man from an enduring saint
to an aggressive demon.
Amiable, gentle, merciful at first, the process by which
they were transformed into Bushwhackers rendered them
vicious, passionate, bloodthirsty. They were coerced to
live in caves, or pits dug in the earth; and while they
were absent, the Guards or Rebel cavalry would visit the
houses of the fugitives, and steal whatever could be
found. The wives and children of the Unionists were
robbed of horses, mules, and even personal attire and
small sums of money-all because they were loyal. In
addition to that, they were occasionally abused corporeally. Terrible threats were made against them unless
they disclosed where certain property or articles were
concealed. Their barns and even dwellings were burned
down; and in many instances Bushwhackers have found
only smouldering embers or a heap of ashes where they
looked for a pleasant home.
In North Carolina and Tennessee I met men who had
not slept under their own roof for two and even three
years. All that time they had been "lying out," as it is
termed. When there was no danger, they would go to
their houses for an hour or two, but would not venture
to remain there overnight.
If the Home-Guards were in the neighborhood, or
approaching, word was sent immediately to the Bushwhackers, or some signal given which was understood.
Horns would be blown, cowbells rung, peculiar cries




UNION BUSHWHACKERS.


353


given, and in less than a minute all the Bushwhackers
in the neighborhood would be on the wing towards
mountain-tops, caves, or some secure hiding-place.
In the Union settlements, every one is trained to be a
messenger. The children of ten and twelve years, if they
see persons resembling the Guards or Rebel cavalry,
bear the tidings at full speed to the nearest house, and
so the intelligence is spread far and wide.
If,there be any number of Unionists compared to the
Rebels, the former give them battle; and so often have
they proved victorious, that the latter shrink from an
engagement unless in greatly superior force.   Those
small fights are of common occurrence, and I encountered many families who had lost near relatives in such
warfare.
When the Rebels pass through a section of, country
favorable to bushwhacking, the persecuted loyalists
profit by the opportunity of revenge to the fullest extent.
All may be quiet, and outwardly peaceful; the enemy
will be walking or riding down a mountain-road, or
through a gap, or past a thicket of laurel, when half a
dozen rifles will crack, and perhaps two or three of his
squad be shot dead or wounded.
All men, however brave, have a natural dread of being
attacked by a concealed foe. It is like stabbing in the
dark. The mystery and uncertainty of the character and
strength of the assailant lend a horror to the surprise;
and well disciplined must be the courage and firm the
nerves which do not take refuge in flight.
The Bushwhackers have not infrequently frightened
away thrice their number. Many of them have Spencer,




354


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Henry, and other carbines, which discharge from six to
sixteen times without reloading, giving the party attacked
a very vivid idea of the strength of the attackers.
In Wilkes County, North Carolina, twelve determined
Union men have compelled from seventy to a hundred
Guards to flight. And in Carter County, Tennessee, they
tell a story of a declaration by the "Confederates" that
those tories (meaning loyalists) have guns they can wind
up Sunday morning, and fire all the week.
Of course, the Bushwhackers are held in great dread.
The Rebel cavalry are in perpetual fear of them, and
never pass a turn in the road, or by a sheltering rock, or
a heavy undergrowth, without extreme caution. The
"breaking of a twig alarms, and the projection of a branch
startles them. Where there is so much fear, there must
be a corresponding hatred. Alas, for the poor Bushwhacker who falls into Rebel hands! Short will be his
shriving, and speedy his exit from the Planet. His capture is synonymous with his execution. He is shot
through the head as coolly as a bullock would be, and
probably before the week is over, his executioner is a
corpse also.
The war in the mountainous regions of the two States
I have mentioned is a war of extermination, and has
already become a kind of Vendetta. Oaths of vengeance
are sworn against those who have killed relatives and
friends, and the oaths are most bloodily kept. A son
shoots a father, and the son of that father shoots the
father of the first son. One brother kills another brother
in an adjacent family, and in turn loses his brother by
violence. These feuds are handed down season after




UNION BUSHWHACKERS.


355


season, and year after year, as in the medieval time.
Life is paid with life, and death answers to death.
I remember meeting in Castle Thunder, Richmond, Virginia, two Tennesseans who had vowed revenge upon certain parties in their section. They obtained their freedom
long before I did; and when I passed through the
neighborhood where the former captives resided, they
had redeemed their word. The men who had wronged
them had ceased to live. They were killed in their own
homes.
In Western North Carolina, particularly in Wilkes and
Watauga, and in the northern counties of East Tennessee,
few prisoners are taken. The black flag is ever raised
there. No quarter is given or asked by the inhabitants;
and the escaped prisoners who travel in that quarter,
understand that "liberty or death" is no mere. figure of
speech, but a dreadful reality.
Everywhere we were told if we were captured that we
would be pushed off the precipice of Time very summarily, and doubtless we would have been. Had we
not succeeded in our search after liberty, no one, I presume, would have ever known our fate.     Our bones
would   have whitened on some mountain-side; and
though it would have been unpleasant at the time,
we would have rested as peacefully there as under a
marble shaft in Greenwood.
One would expect to find the Bushwhackers fierce,
cruel men; yet many of them are quiet, though determined-warm-hearted, but excitable. Their peculiar life
has quickened all their senses, and perpetual anxiety
and frequent alarm  have given them   a certain wild




356


FOUR YEARS" IN SECESSIA.


expression of face, especially of the eye, that belongs to
hunted men. They are as much attached to Northerners,
as they are opposed to the Rebels. They received us
with kindness, and even welcomed us to their homely
fare. They piloted us in many places, and would have
protected us at the risk of their lives.
When we had crossed, the XYadkin, and were within
twenty miles of the Blue Ridge, a party of Bushwhackers
informed us we could not get over on account of the
snow; that we would be tracked and murdered. After
learning that, we thought seriously of waiting where we
were, even until Summer, if necessary, and the generous
fellows, poor as they were, offered to take us to their
dwellings, and provide for us as best they could.
In Johnson County, Tennessee, we encountered a bevy
of Bushwhackers of the most reckless character. One
day, while lying in a barn, we heard a tremendous
yelling, and soon discovered that it proceeded from three
of the fraternity. Instead of remaining concealed, they
were using their lungs to the utmost to attract attention.
They defied the Rebels, and as they were armed to the
teeth, they would have proved formidable foes.
One of the trio, known as Canada Guy, was a type of
the most savage class. He had been arrested as a Bushwhacker nearly two years before; was sefit to Richmond
to be tried for several murders; and yet contrived to
deceive the authorities to such an extent that he was
transferred to Belle Isle as a prisoner of war, and exchanged soon after.
Reaching Annapolis, Guy told the Provost-Marshal
he wished to resume operations in Tennessee. The Pro



UNION BUSHWHACKERS.


357


vost gave him a certain sum of money, and bade him go
on his way rejoicing.
Guy, on his return, had many old scores to wipe off;
and the sole erasive compound he knew was blood. In
less than six months he killed seven men, all bitter
Secessionists, and vowed he would not forego the pleasure of killing more of the number for any consideration
on earth.
No wonder he was ferocious. The Rebels hanged his
father, some sixty years old, because he would be loyal
in spite of threats, and shot four of his brothers. "But
I'll be even with them," he exclaimed; "I'll kill at
least twenty for every one of my kinsmen." He bids
fair to keep his word. He delights in exterminating the
Secessionists, and his glee is almost fiendish at times.
I could not sympathize with or like such a man, though
I doubt not his wrongs had rendered him the reckless,
bloodthirsty creature he was. Guy believed religiously
that no Rebel had any right to property or life; so he
robbed the enemy wherever found, and was only too
desirous of generating a difficulty that would give him a
pretext for adding another to his list of victims.
To the Bushwhackers I am indebted for many kindnesses which I shall not forget. I found in them virtues
that are rare in civilization, and possibilities of far better
things. They have been compelled in self-defence to
take the course they have; and I am not at all sure that
many of us who have loftier aims, and larger culture,
and higher instincts, would not do worse if we had been
so foully wronged as those hardy and naturally humane
mountaineers.




358


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER XLVIII.
THE ESCAPE.
Our Efforts Useless in the Salisbury Hospital.-Bohemian Talent for Forgery.Mode of our Exodus from the Penitentiary.-Sensations of Freedom.-Our
First Night in a Barn.-A Long Fast.-A Rebel Officer Sound on the Main
Question.-Commencement of the Journey toward Liberty.-Our First Two
Nights' March.-Hunger, Cold, and Exhaustion.-Our Assistance from the
Negroes.
Two of my journalistic friends and myself, as soon as
the large influx of Union soldiers had been made into the
Prison, entered the hospitals, hoping to be of some service to the sick. We found the task extremely difficult,
because there was no co-operation on the part of the authorities; and the longer we remained, although we
worked very hard, the more fruitless we perceived our
labor. We concluded, therefore, to try another plan of escape. We had been very industrious in that way, for
months, at Salisbury, but had met with our old ill-fortune.
The tunnels in which we had been interested had been exposed; the schemes we had formed had been frustrated;
the agencies on which we had depended failed in the moment of need. We resolved thereafter to trust only Fortune
and ourselves, and we prepared to make our exodus on
the evening of Sunday, December 18.
Two of us Bohemians-Mr. William E. Davis, of the




THE ESCAPE.


359


Cincinnatti Gazette, and myself-had passes to the Rebel
hospital, outside of the first inclosure and the first line of
guards, and we spent an hour of Saturday night in forging a pass for my associate of The Tribune.
It was my first essay in that department of the Fine
Arts, and I congratulated myself I had done well; nor
was I without a lingering suspicion that if my talents in
that direction had been properly developed, I might have
"been a rival of Monroe Edwards. There was this difference, however, in his chirographical experiments and
mine: his resulted in getting him into, while mine were
designed to get a friend out of, a Penitentiary.
Our graphical labors went for naught.
My confrere, the following morning, concluded it would
be wiser to use my genuine pass, and let me trust to going
by the sentinel without any. We agreed to that; and so,
a little before dusk, the night promising to be dark and
stormy, two of us went out to the Rebel hospital, to wait
for the development of events.
Mr. Richardson took a box employed for carrying medicines, and, filling it with empty bottles, walked boldly
up to the guard, who stopped him, and asked if he had a
pass.
" Certainly," was the reply; "you have seen it often
enough; have you not?"
"I do not remember," responded the Rebel. " Let me
look at it."
It was handed him, and, after scrutinizing it carefully,
he returned it to Mr. Richardson, with the remark that it
was "all right."
My confrere walked out, and met, in the second inclo



360


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


sure, the Adjutant of the garrison and a paroled Rebel convict, both of whom knew him intimately.
Feeling that assurance alone would prevent suspicion,
he accosted, them both, exchanged some ordinary remarks
about the weather, and passed on.
A fourth prisoner, Thomas E. Wolfe, captain of a merchant vessel taken by the Rebels off the Balize-who
also had a pass, and, just before we started, had concluded
to try the adventure with us-was looking on, determined,
if Mr. Richardson failed, to notify Mr. Davis and myself,
that we might be off before the whole plan was apparent.
Richardson's coolness had disarmed suspicion.  He
walked quietly to a vacant office at the end of the hospital, placed his box and bottles therein, and moved leisurely by the guards, who were on the parapet at his right,
to a small out-house, into which he stepped for concealment until it became darker.
Having loitered about the hospital as long as it seemed
prudent, I walked by the guards-who supposed, no
doubt, we belonged to the garrison-to the outhouse in
question.
There I talked with Richardson in a low tone of voice,
and agreed, as it was quite dusk, to go out to the gate in
the fence skirting the road, and which was unguarded;
and, if I were discovered, to return to the hospital. If I
continued on, he was to follow.
I started, and just as I put my hand on the bar of the
gate, to force it open, I felt it move from the other side.
Our old ill-fortune, I thought. We are discovered, and
our hope of freedom once more blighted.
The gate opened, and I was vastly relieved to see Mr.




THE ESCAPE.


361


Davis, of the Gazette, and the Captain. They believed it
hardly dark enough; but I pushed on across a small
"bridge over the railway; having told them I would meet
them at the appointed place, on a public road about a
quarter of a mile from the Prison.
Richardson followed, and in half an hour we were all
four together, lying down in the rain in a fence corner.
While there, a man crossed the field, and walked so
near us that we thought he would step on us. We held
our breath, and heard our hearts beat, as we had so often
done before, believing we must be discovered. He conjectured not our presence, however, and walked off into
the thick and all-enshrouding darkness.
In another hour we had crawled into a barn, and were
lying under the straw and fodder, waiting for the next
night, when a Union man had agreed to procure us a
guide, of whom we stood in great need, as not one of our
party had any knowledge of woodcraft, or of the country
we had to travel through.
Long shall I remember the fresh, free air that greeted
me like a benison when I stepped out of the Prison limits
on that murky, rainy evening. The old worn-out feeling,
the inertia, the sense of suppression, seemed to fall from
me as a cast-off garment; and I believed I could walk
to the ends of the Earth, if I could but find the sweet
goddess of Liberty-dearest and best of women-at the
end of my long, long journeying.
To the barn, in which we lay concealed, we were aware
a number of small negroes came every few hours of the
day; and it was therefore necessary for us to keep very
still lest they should discover and betray us, not from




362


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


perfidy, but through indiscretion. We covered ourselves
entirely over with the fodder, and never spoke a word
above our breath.
We were in sight of the grim and cruel Prison where
we had passed almost eleven months of anxiety and
agony, and we had, you may imagine, a most wholesome horror of being taken back there before we had
fairly started on our travels.
From the time we escaped, on Sunday evening, until
Monday night, we had not a drop of water, and we had
no food, save a few broken mouthfuls, from Sunday noon
until Tuesday evening.
Yet we did not seem to suffer. Our ardor for freedom
was such that it displaced all other desires, even those of
a physical nature. We hardly knew we were thirsty
until a Captain in the Rebel service gave us a canteen of
water, after we quitted the barn. He had been several
times wounded, having fought through nearly all the
great battles in Virginia; and yet was a Union man at
heart. In our presence he anathematized the Rebels, and
expressed the pious wish that they were all plunged so
deep in a certain igneous region that even the Petro
leum-seekers could not reach them. We had become
acquainted with him while in Prison, and knew, when we
got out, we could depend upon such aid as it was in his
power to give us.
It no doubt seems anomalous that loyal men should be
in the Southern armies, and fight for a cause in which they
do not believe. Yet the instance of our friend the Captain was one of many.
Hundreds of persons, at the beginning of the troubles,




THE ESCAPE.


363


rushed into the War, believing it would be only a kind of
parade of arms, with perhaps a few skirmishes, followed by
a recognition of the independence of the " Confederacy."
How fearfully they were deceived, let the mourning in every Southern home, and the countless graves in
every insurgent State, from Virginia to Texas, testify in
terror and in tears! Four years of devastating conflict
have taught them the great issues at stake, and the hopelessness of the struggle; the weakness and the woe, the
crime and penalty of Slavery; and the day has dawned
at last, when the South will, for the first time, be truly
free.
To resume: after leaving the barn and repairing to the
place appointed, we met the Lieutenant of militia I have
mentioned, and waited for the guide who, he said, would
soon be along. An hour or more passed, and the guide
coming not, we concluded he had already gone on, or had
failed to redeem his promise, and set out upon our journey, with Wilkes County as an objective point, where a
number of relatives of the Lieutenant resided, and who,
he assured us, would welcome us with warm and loyal
hearts.
We went at a rapid pace through two miles of mud from
six to twelve inches deep, almost losing our boots often in
the adhesive loam, the blood bounding in our veins, and
the perspiration starting through our pores, until we
reached the Statesville and Morganton Railway, which
we proposed to follow for at least twenty-five miles, and
then strike a more Northerly direction.
We had not gone more than three miles before we
espied a camp and a fire before it, and, thinking they
24




364=


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


might be pickets, we concluded to flank the locality, and
did so, but not without much difficulty. We made a
wide circuit through the woods, and as the night was
very dark, we fell over logs and stumps; got into thornbushes and tore our clothes; tumbled into bogs and
ditches; had the skin brushed from our noses and cheeks,
and our eyes nearly put out by sharp twigs and swinging
branches.
That first flanking was truly amusing; I could hear my
companions plunging over logs, and occasionally uttering
expletives more forcible than orthodox, as they struck
their heads against trees, or had their mouths rudely
opened by an entering twig. Splash, splash we went,
through the water and mire, and then crackled through
the sodden leaves and dead branches, and then crept
noiselessly by some wayside tenement, and then halted
with suspended breath at some actual or imaginary
sound.
Whenever we observed a camp or fire near the railway
we made a flank movement, to the serious detriment of
our boots and clothes, and then struck the road again,
thus vastly increasing the distance and time of our journeying. The first night we made only eleven miles in a
direct line-how much in detours, it would be impossible
to conjecture-when one of my companions declaring
himself utterly exhausted, we endeavored to find a place
of concealment.
That was very difficult, as there was, during the Winter, no undergrowth to furnish a hiding-place. We tried
haystacks in vain. We penetrated into woods, and
could not get out of sight. Everywhere we went, we




THE ESCAPE.


365


found ourselves too near some road, and the out-houses
too unsafe.
We walked farther and farther from   the railway,
through one piece of timber and then another, and yet
were ever likely to be seen from the highways or some
wagon-way.
At last the early dawn had deepened into broad day.
We could go no farther. We crept into a pinery and
lay there, not more than a hundred yards from the road,
within sound of the voices of men at work, and the babble of children at the farm-house.
The day was very raw and cold, but we durst not light
a fire. So we lay flat on the ground, never speaking in
other than the lowest sotto voce tone, shivering, and anxious and longing for the shades of evening.
I was very thinly clad, having no other coat than a
light blouse; and, unable to move about to start the circulation of the blood, I suffered much from the cold, as
did my companions. "If we are not captured to-day,"
we said, "the Gods who have been so long opposed must
be on our side."
The welcome dusk came at last. No one of those who
had been in our immediate vicinity had seen us; and
with glad hearts we went forth, like the beasts of prey,
in search of food. We repaired to the quarters of the
slaves on an adjoining plantation, and soon obtained a
promise from one of them, if we would go to a barn on
the place, that he would send us food. Before this time
a chilly, penetrating rain had begun to descend, and as
we were quite wet, a roof was very acceptable.
The master of the plantation had company that night,




66


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


and consequently we were compelled to wait until nearly
midnight before we obtained any provisions. We did
not know how hungry we were until a liberal supply of corn bread and bacon was handed us by the
negro.
Those are means of sustenance I naturally abhor; but no
Fifth Avenue dinner, however recherche, ever pleased
my palate so much as those Southern staples. When we
were ready to resume our march, a negro offered to guide
us back to the railway; and we set forth in a driving,
drenching storm, through such a pall-like darkness, that
we could not see the nearest object. We walked in what
is known as Indian file, sometimes one leading, and sometimes another, with preconcerted signals for doubt, danger, and recognition.
When our leader paused we stopped, and a motion of
the hand, if it were light enough to see, or, if it were not,
a low "hush!" brought us to an instantaneous halt. If
we were scattered, a sudden quick cough was the sign of
recognition, and.a low whistle, in imitation of a nightbird, brought us together.
Through that tempestuous night we marched wearily
on, our clothes dripping, like a jealous woman's eyes
when the storm is subsiding, and running into our boots,
until they were full of water. Harder and harder the
rain fell, and colder and colder it grew.
We were chilled from head to heel, and our saturated
garments became a burden, chafing our limbs and clogging our steps.
How often I thought of the line of Shakspeare about
" biding the peltings of this pitiless storm," and marveled




THE ESCAPE.


367


if even old Lear had encountered a rougher and a
drearier night.
There were a number of cattle-guards and pits along
the road, filled with mire and water; and as we had to
walk over them on the rails, the condition of our boots
and clothes, added to our chilliness and fatigue, made our
pace unsteady, and frequently we fell, waist-deep, into
those turbid and ungrateful baths.
The ties, too, were slippery, and often we lost our
equilibrium, and wounded our weary and paining feet.
The sea-Captain badly sprained his foot, and could barely
hobble along; occasionally requiring our support for a
mile or two.
One of the greatest sources of our anxiety was the fear
of a sprain, or some manner of maiming, knowing that
such an accident must greatly diminish our prospect of
freedom. In the superlative darkness, and in a region
entirely unknown, we were liable at any moment to make
a misstep that would place us beyond the power of
marching farther. How we prayed, in our Bohemian
way, for sound feet and strong limbs, for continued health
and the favor of Fortune.
The negro who had guided us to the railway had told
us of another of his color to whom we could apply for
shelter and food at the terminus of our second stage.
Him we could not find until nearly dawn, and when we
did, he directed us to a large barn filled with wet cornhusks.
Into that we crept with our dripping garments, and lay
there for fifteen hours, until we could again venture
forth. Floundering about in the husks, we lost our




868


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


haversacks, pipes, and a hat that belonged to the
speaker, and deprived of which, he was, indeed, uncovered.
About nine o'clock we procured a hearty supper from
the generous negro, who even gave me his unique headcovering-an appropriate presentation, as one of my companions remarked, by an "intelligent contraband" to the
"reliable gentleman" of The N. Y. Tribune-and did
picket-duty while we hastily ate our meal and. stood
against his blazing fire. The old African and his wife
gave us "God bless you, massas!" with trembling voice
and moistened eyes, as we parted from them with grateful
hearts.
"God bless the negroes!" say I, with earnest lips.
During our entire captivity, and after our escape, they
were ever our firm, brave, unflinching friends. We
never made an appeal to them they did not answer. They
never hesitated to do us a service at the risk even of life,
and under the most trying circumstances revealed a devotion and a spirit of self-sacrifice that were heroic. The
magic word " Yankee " opened all their hearts, and
elicited the loftiest virtues. They were ignorant, oppressed, enslaved; but they always cherished a simple
and beautiful faith in the cause of the Union and its
ultimate triumph, and never abandoned or turned aside
from a man who sought food or shelter on his way to
Freedom.




TIE MARCH TO FREEDOM.


369


CHAPTER XLIX.
THE MARCH TO FREEDOM.
The Third, Fourth, and Fifth Nights Out.-Missing the Road.-Extremely Cold
Weather.-Our Sufferings in a Barn.-The Slaves our Faithful Friends.Torture of the Boot Revived.-Our Pursuit and Masterly Retreat.-Our Reenforcement with Mules and Whisky.-Incidents along the Route.-Arrival
in Wilkes County.
A  NEw   HAMPSHIRE soldier, Charles Thurston, a sergeant of the Sixth regiment, had joined us before we left
Salisbury. He had been a fellow-conspirator for many
weeks, and had been going out with us through various
tunnels; but when they were all exposed, we were compelled to resort to some other mode of exodus. Having
heard privately that we had gone, on Sunday night, he
managed to slip out of the hospital bakery, where he
was employed, behind one of the Prison Detectives,
about four hours after our escape, and get into the town
unobserved.
Our party then consisted of five, and we continued our
march on the railway in better condition, having gotten
our clothes partially dry, and satisfied our hunger. That
was our third night, and we were only seventeen miles
from Salisbury. We were desirous to go nearly to
Statesville-eight miles to the west-and then, flanking
the town, move in a northwesterly direction toward




370


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Wilkes County. We had been directed by the negro, at
the last stopping-place, to Allison's Mill, which was to
"be our guide in the way we wanted to go. We flanked
Statesville, and found Allison' s Mill, which proved afterward to be the wrong one-we had not been told there
were two-and therefore missed the road entirely.
We knew not where we were gbing, but we took first
one road and then another; marching very rapidly, as we
needed to do, for the wind had veered round to the North,
and the night had grown very cold. We climbed fences,
examined haystacks and dilapidated cabins, but found
no negro tenements, nor any place where we could stay
without danger of freezing.
Our limbs became stiff and our lips blue when we
paused; and as we were afraid to light a fire, we went on
in the teeth of the biting wind, until the tears streamed
from our eyes, and our faces and hands and feet were
like, ice.
It was nearly dawn when we descried, by the light of
the moon, a plantation at a distance. One of us went to
the negro quarters, and returned with the information
that we could go to a large barn near by, and cover ourselves with hay until the.principal house-servant had an
opportunity to bring us food.
All five of us climbed into the barn, built of logs piled
" cob-house" fashion, and consequently very cold; the
wind driving through the open spaces, and chilling us
through and through. We buried ourselves completely
in the hay; but there was no possibility of getting warm.
I shivered against Mr. Richardson's side, and he against
mine. We put our arms around each other, and snug



Al


1/


I-v
fr
A


THE ESCAPED CORRESPONDENTS ENJOYING THE NEGRO'S HOSPITALITY.








THE MARCH TO FREEDOM.


371


gled up, as children say, to no purpose. We thought
we would freeze to death if we fell asleep; so we crawled
out of the hay, and began moving about in the loft, and
soon induced our companions to come out also. We
were still very cold, but we suffered less than we had
done, because our blood circulated more.
About eleven o'clock the negro came to us with a basket of pork and corn-bread, which we ate with great
relish. He was delighted to see us, and was very intelligent, having been a servant to a Rebel officer in the
field. He said his master was a violent Secessionist, and
would kill him, and us too, if he knew we were there;
but that he was not afraid. Hie had helped the Yankees
before, and would help them again.
After dark the negro took us to his cabin, gave us our
supper, and let us thaw before his fire, guided us to the
Allison's Mill-when we learned we had walked about
fifteen miles and accomplished only half a mile in the
right direction-and there told us what road to follow,
piloting us a mile and a half on our way.
When I escaped I had been compelled to wear a very
large, coarse, stiff pair of boots-the sole ones I could
procure in the Prison-which I could keep on only
because they were tight across the instep and around the
ankles. They tortured me at every step, and wore holes
in my ankles that resembled wounds from buck-shot;
while their weight and clumsiness tired me greatly, and
made me stumble as if I were intoxicated.        They
had become soaking wet again and again, and frozen on
my feet, so that they were like wooden shoes, entirely
without elasticity or power of expansion. Mr. Richard



372


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


son's foot-coverings were very much of the same kind;
and as We marched along through the darkness over the
rough and broken ground, it was with great difficulty we
could often suppress cries of pain. When we slipped,
or stepped into ruts, our feet were wrenched as if they
were in a vice; and still we had but begun our march of
four hundred miles; and the most arduous and toilsome
part was yet to come.
What were boots, or pain, or cold, or hardship, compared to freedom?
We marched on through the moonless night until we
reached Rocky Creek, in Rowan County, where we
paused, very cold and fatigued, and built a fire-we had
taken the precaution to supply ourselves with matchesin an adjacent pinery. There we warmed ourselves as
well as we could, and about four o'clock Friday morning, crossed the creek on a log on our hands and. knees;
the frost having made it so slippery theie was no security in walking.
We then struck a dirt road going from Statesville to
Jonesville; and about six o'clock began to think we
were off the direct route.
Sergeant Thurston determined to apply for information
at a house standing at the forks of the road, and did so.
When he returned, we concluded the man he had seen
was a Rebel, and might raise the dogs, old men, and boys,
armed with rifles and shot-guns, and hunt us down, as is
the custom in Secessia.
Our conclusion was correct.
When daylight came, one of us perceived the old fellow following us, and the Sergeant ran back toward




THE MARCH TO FREEDOM.


373


him in a threatening manner that frightened him into a
rapid retreat. We had no fear of him alone, but apprehended that he would excite an alarm, and bring the
whole human and canine neighborhood upon us.
We thought we were so tired we could go no farther;
but the prospect of pursuit so strengthened our limbs
that we started upon a run; darting into woods, over
fences, through quagmires; crossing and re-crossing
fields; moving to every point of the compass so rapidly
that an African blood-hound would have found it difficult to scent out our progress.
At last we paused, about nine o'clock, in a pinery, and
soon had a blazing fire of dry wood, which caused very
little smoke. We would not have made the fire, but, as
we were freezing, it was a military necessity. We were
quite anxious all day; but we heard and saw nothing
that led us to believe we were pursued. If we were,
our pursuers must have lost the trail, which would not
have been singular, as we were at least two miles from
any road or even footpath, so far as we could determine.
We then concluded that another night's march would
take us to the settlement in Wilkes County, to which the
Lieutenant of militia had directed. Then I first began to
have some well-defined hope that we would get through.
When I escaped, I did so on principle, trusting that we
might at least be out a week, or possibly two, and believing if we were shot we would have the satisfaction of
dying in the laudable effort to obtain our freedom, as became American citizens.
We had but fifteen miles further to go before we should
find a haven of rest, which we sorely needed. We re



374


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


sumed our march in excellent spirits, though greatly
worn and exhausted; and no wonder, as we had been unable to sleep more than a few minutes at a time, on account of the cold. Indeed, I do not know that I had lost
my consciousness after our exodus from the Penitentiary.
I struck out boldly, however, and summoned all my
will. The miles seemed endless, and every step increased
my fatigue.
At last I was forced to lean on my confrere' s arm, as he
had done on mine the first night out. My breath was short
and hot, my head was heavy, and my limbs trembled.
My associate insisted upon it that I was on the eve of,
a severe typhoid fever.
I knew I merely wanted rest. He urged me to stop at
a way-side public-house, the only one we encountered in
all our journey, and said he would remain with me. I
would not consent, fearing my doing so would endanger
the whole party. Therefore I endeavored to go on, telling my companions to leave me if I failed. To that they
would not agree. Mr. Richardson, with characteristic
generosity, declared he would not separate from me.
At the public house, or shanty rather, we procured
some food, and learned to our satisfaction that the proprietor was a Unionist. Hearing we were all greatly fatigued, he offered for a certain sum-and we had abundance of money in our party-to loan us two mules to help
us onward.
We accepted his proposition, and Captain Wolfe, still
suffering from his sprain, and myself, mounted the animals. Their equipments were very inferior. My mule was
saddleless, and the sharp backbone almost bisected me,




THE MARCH TO FREEDOM.


875


while my legs pained me excessively, and seemed as if
they would part company with my body.
After proceeding two or three miles, we halted at a
cabin to get two or three more mules, and while there the
host pressed us to drink some whisky. The distillation
of corn is very repulsive to me; but I thought it might
give me temporary strength, and I swallowed a large
quantity before we resumed our journey. It improved
my condition at first; but very soon I began to grow very
ill. The liquor had nauseated me, and for three hours I
swayed from side to side, and resembled Vesuvius in a
constant state of eruption.
Jove! but I was sick;I almost lost my senses. Every
atom of my frame ached. It seemed as if I would fall to
pieces. Riding on that mule was purgatorial. I dismounted, and stumbled over the road.
Finally, we reached the vicinity of the settlement in
Wilkes County. We parted with our mule-owners, and
Mr. Richardson went in quest of the Lieutenant' s mother,
leaving me lying on the ground, begging to be let alone.
He returned after a long search, and half supported, half
carried me, with genuine tenderness, to the cabin where
the good woman lived.
There the other three preceded me, and were leaning
against the chimney corner fast asleep. I was soon undressed, and in a soft, warm bed.
What a luxury it was, after twenty months of lying on
hard floors and rude bunks! Hardly had my head
touched the pillow before I lapsed into a slumber as
sweet and deep as if I lay a child again upon my mother's
bosom.




376           FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.
In four hours I awoke, entirely refreshed and healed, to
find my associate by my bedside, with a cup of rye coffee
and a plate of fritters in his hand, asking me to eat something. I had a good appetite, and gratified it, and went
to bed again, to sleep once more a dreamless and delicious
sleep.




THE HAVEN OF REST.


CHAPTER L.
THE HAVEN OF REST.
The Union Settlement in Wilkes County.-Frequent Change of Base.-Christmas
Spent in a Barn.-Ghostly Marches.-Alarms and Adventures in Yadkin
County.-A Bohemian Model Artist.-An Eventful Night.-Storm and Sentiment.-Love-Making in a Tempest.-Parting with our Loyal Friends.-Their
Devotion and Regret.-Battles between Unionists and Rebel Home Guards.Inextinguishable Fidelity of the People.
THE settlement we had reached was chiefly composed
of relatives of the loyal Lieutenant, who gave us a most
cordial and generous welcome. They could not do enough
for us-some of them had never seen a " Yankee" before
-and they were delighted to meet us. They were very
demonstrative, and asked us more questions in a minute
than we could answer in a day.
Though entire strangers, we were regarded from        the
first as their dearest friends. Men, women, and children
were anxious to serve us; and we felt, indeed, as if our
lines had fallen in pleasant places. They offered us their
fullest store, and would have given us half of what they
possessed if we had needed it.
More kindness, affection, devotion, I have never seen.
Those noble-hearted people-for the most part poorga-ve me a higher idea of humanity; and their efforts in
our behalf, and their spirit of sacrifice, filled me with the




FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


deepest sense of gratitude, which I long for an opportunity to display in something more than words.
The loyal Lieutenant had requested us to tarry in the
settlement for two or three days, and he would join our
party and go through with us to our lines.
The evening of the day-Saturday, December 24-we
arrived in the county, we left Mrs. --- s house, and
repaired to the barn, about a quarter of a mile distant,
of a relative of the family, for increased security, and
from unwillingness to jeopardize the good people who
so generously sheltered us. We remained there that
night and the next day (Christmas), when a number of
men and women visited us to congratulate us on our escape, and to assure us of their unswerving fidelity, of
which we had no doubt.
Christmas night, one of our friends told us it had been
whispered about that there were five Yankees in the settlement; and, fearing the Rebel Home Guards might be
apprised of the fact, deemed it prudent to remove us to
the adjoining County of Yadkin, where the wife of the
Lieutenant resided.
Under the man's guidance we walked through the
woods by by-paths to the new place of shelter, a distance
of four or five miles. The night was dark as Egypt, and
we moved along as cautiously and noiselessly as if we
stepped about the couch of our dying mistress.
We called those nocturnal journeys the marches of
death. We spoke not a syllable; we suppressed our
breath, and moved as lightly as if our life dependedand perhaps it did-upon our perfect quietude.
Not a twig broke beneath our careful feet. The




THE HAVEN OF REST.


319


silence was almost painful in its impressiveness. The
stirring of the dry leaves, as the wind swept through
them, sounded loudly to our strained ears. Every sense
was on the rack of apprehension; every nerve at its
highest tension. We seemed like unquiet ghosts as we
stalked along-disembodied spirits wandering on the
Stygian shore.
In an hour and a half we reached the desired habitation, and the same generous welcome greeted us as before.
The wife of the Lieutenant assured us we would not endanger her home by resting beneath her humble roof,
and that night we lay in comfortable beds. She was a.
native of Virginia, an intelligent, calm, brave, quick —
witted woman, fruitful in expedients and resources.
In the morning her children, two of them little girls of
four and six years, stood picket while their mother and,
their elder sister prepared our breakfast.
Strange and thorough teachers are danger and devotion. Those children, as all others we met, were unnaturally developed; their senses acute; their secretiveness perfect; their self-possession complete. We could
trust them  as we could matured persons.     We had
no fear of their indiscretion: we relied on them fully.
Custom  and order were reversed.    Strong, self-reliant
men who had passed two years in the field, who had
often looked death in the face, who had stood by countless couches of suffering and death, to aid, to comfort, and
console, were protected by, and leaned on, women and
children. They could do for us what our own sex could
not, and they did it with a silent and    unconscious
heroism that made it all the more beautiful.
25




FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Soon after breakfast a squad of Breckinridge's cavalry
were reported coming up the road-the house stood at the
roadside-and we were advised to conceal ourselves
under the beds. We were not long in taking our positions, and then the Lieutenant's wife went out on the
porch with an unconcerned air. The cavalry men stopped,
and she talked to them in a quiet, easy way, well calculated to disarm suspicion, if any had been excited. They
did not enter the dwelling, as we feared, and after a few
minutes rode on.
She then called us to come out, saying, "Allis safe,
boys."  But we had hardly assumed an erect position
when several suspicious-looking characters were announced, nd again we crept under the beds. Some of
our party may have been compelled to indulge in that
kind of thing before; but I conjecture it was under very,different circumstances.
The pursuit of gallantry had nothing to do with the
recreation there; and I confess I did not like it altogether,
although it was for the sake of that dear woman who
holds the shield of the Republic, and wears the garment
embroidered with stars.
The precaution was unnecessary that time. The suspicious-looking characters proved to be rude hinds who
went quietly by the dwelling.
Once more we went forth in a vertical form, ascended
to the corn-loft and removed our clothes-for what purpose, those who have been in Rebel Prisons need not be
told. I was still lingering over my poetic toil when two
tithe-officers knocked at the door, to collect their dues in
%corn.




TflE  A.VEN OF REST.


381


Mr. Davis cried out:' " Hurry, Junius, those men are
coming up!" and immediately darted below. Poor me i
But a single garment graced my slender form at that junetuiet and, seizing the remainder of my wardrobe, I rushed
into the apartment we had quitted a few moments before.
There I found the kind-hearted woman, who a third time
told us to get under the bed.
My companions laughed at my costume; but I declared
with imperturbable sang-froid that I did not care.
My feminine friend smiled, and very sensibly remarked
that it made no difference whatever; that such things
would happen sometimes; and that she had seen men hi
that guise before, which, as she was the mother of four
children, is not at all improbable.
The same night, Monday, we concluded that Yadkin
County was not as safe as it might be, judging from our
single day's experience in it; so we marched back, the
same dark, silent, breath-bated march as before, to
Wilkes County, and the friendly "barn we had quitted.
"We lay there concealed in the corn-husks and hay until
Tuesday evening. Then we heard the guards were
searching for us, and we divided; three going to the
habitation of the Lieutenant's mother, and two to his
sister's.
Wednesday morning, while at breakfast, two men entered the cabin, taking us by surprise. The dog on
which we had depended had gone away, and therefore
the strangers came unannounced.
There was no means of retreat, as the cabin had but one
door, and we knew our greatest safety would be in t
calm manner. We continued our humble meal, therefore,




382


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


very deliberately and unconcernedly, and at its close
were not displeased to learn the strangers were deserters
from the Rebel army, and entirely trustworthy.
The day we spent in a barn, and at night we returned
to the cabin. We were at supper when a low whistle
was heard outside, indicating a surprise, perhaps a surrounding of the house by the enemy, with the intention
of shooting down whoever attempted to escape-the
custom in that section of country.
The wife and her adopted daughter, a girl of sixteen or
seventeen-we will call her Lucy-were greatly alarmed.
They threw ashes on the burning logs in great haste, to
extinguish the glare of the fire, and told us to get under
the bed and to go out of the door at the same time. We
chose the latter, and out we dashed into the dark and
stormy night, more than half expecting to be greeted
with several rifle-flashes as we emerged from the dwelling.
A minute after I felt some one clinging to my arm, and
a voice saying, in a suppressed tone: " Come this way!"
I could hardly see the face, it was so dark, but I knew it
was the black-eyed, black-haired, intensely loyal Lucy,
who took as much interest in our welfare as if we were
lovers and brothers combined.
" What are you doing here, my dear child?" I inquired
whisperingly. "Why don't you go in out of the storm,
and let me care for myself?"
" 0, I want to stay with you," she answered earnestly.
" Do come with me. I will show you where to hide. I
wouldn't have any thing happen to you for the world.
I'd rather die than have harm come to you."
Poor girl! Her appeal was resistless. I forgot the




THE HAVEN OF REST.


383


danger of the situation in my pity and regard for her.
Her voice and manner had touched even my worn-out
heart.
The rain was falling in torrents, and the thunder bellowing through the sable vault overhead; but still Lucy
clung to my arm. The other, disengaged, I threw about
her waist-a taper one, even though she had always lived
in North Carolina, and had never worn a corset-and
drawing her plump figure to my bosom, kissed her long
and closely-more for gratitude than gallantry, more from
a sense of duty than affection; and yet duty just at that
moment appeared not disagreeable to discharge.
The sensation was not unpleasant to me.
I do not believe it would have been to any man who
had not touched a woman's lips for at least two years.
In the midst of that rather sentimental scene we learned
that the whistle we had heard proceeded from a Rebel
deserter who had come to the house to see Lucy-she
said she liked him because he had shot two Home Guards;
but as a man he was not agreeable to her-and who had
given the signal, fearing the masculine voices he had heard
inside might be those of enemies.
In less than an hour we had another alarm, and once
more we ran out into the rain; but that alarm was also
causeless, and returning to the cabin, we went to bedthe members of the family and ourselves all in one room,
which was indeed the whole house.
I slept quite well, and dreamed that Lucy was a
princess in disguise, who introduced me to a black-robed
magician, that furnished us with a winged dragon, that
mounted, with us on his back, and flew away to New




384


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


York, and set us down to an elegant supper at the Maison
Doree.
About that time I awoke, and Lucy was sitting demurely in the chimney corner, preparing our plain breakfast before the fire. So Lucy was no princess, and the
dragon could not be procured, and the magician was
absent; and as I could hot have any of those fine things,
I took a piece of corn bread instead, and swallowed it
with relish, and a new longing after the Ideal.
The next night, believing the Lieutenant would not
come, and that our delay was dangerous, we parted from
our good friends with saddened hearts. Old men took us
in their arms and blessed us; women, young and old,
wept at our departure, and children nestled to our bosom
as if we were the nearest and dearest of their kin.
All that was not for us personally. It was the outpouring of loyalty from those noble spirits toward the
representatives of that element in the great Republic; the
homage paid to the principle of patriotism; the gushing
forth of suppressed Unionism toward those who had
suffered in its cause.
Wilkes is one of the strongest Union counties-probably the strongest-in North Carolina. The Rebels call it
old United States, and declare it irrepressible. Deserters
from the Southern service went about there with impunity, but generally carried their weapons. Often fights
took place between them and the Home Guards, and the
latter were generally worsted.
At Traphill, some twenty miles from the settlement in
which we were, the Unionists and Rebels had had a




THE HAVEN OF REST.              385
dozen fights, the former being intrenched, and capable
of defending themselves against large odds.
The Guards were tolerably quiet when we were there,
so far as deserters were concerned, but they would have
been very glad to capture or shoot an escaping Yankee.
The Union men were increasing every month, and the
insurgents diminishing. Some of the latter had undergone a great revolution during the year. A man who
had been a prominent Secessionist invited us to his house,
but we went not.
The loyal population had suffered greatly. The War
had deprived them of their property, their protectors, and
their peace; but still they clung to the belief that the
cause of the Republic must prevail; that all would be
well with those who held out to the last.




386


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER LI.
THE MARCH ONWARD.
Accession of Escaped Prisoners.- Resumption of our Journey.-Excessive
Roughness of the Route.-Character of the North Carolina Roads.-Flanking
of Wilkesboro.-Losing our Way.-Crossing the Yadkin.-Skeptical Women.
-Interview with Bushwhackers.-Consoling Counsel.-Passage of the Blue
Ridge.-A Severe March over Mountains.-Safety ever Retreating.-Narrow
Escapes from Union Rifles.-Contradictory Reports about our Lines.
WHILE in Wilkes County, two of our fellow-prisoners,
a captain of a small trading-vessel from Philadelphia,
and a North Carolina Unionist, having escaped by bribing the guard at Salisbury, arrived in the settlement,
and sent us word they would like to journey in our
company; but, deeming it prudent for us to travel in
small parties, we declined, and Sergeant Thurston joined
the other two, who, with a deserter from Lee's army, set
out toward Wilkesboro, the capital of the county, the
day before we did.
Wednesday night, December 28, we resumed our
march. It was very dark and stormy, and one of our
many loyal friends guiding us for five miles to the
cabin of a free mulatto, who in turn piloted us on, we
reached Glass's mill, a distance of fourteen miles, without
fatigue.
Our long rest had materially benefited us, and we felt




/~ 7 -K         4t,~


-'   I


~-N~


A~


7i,




CONFERENCE OF THE CORRESPONDENTS WITH BUSHWHACKERS








THE MARCH ONWARD.


387


much fresher than when we quitted the Penitentiary so
abruptly. At the mill we found the other party of four,
and going to the habitation of a Unionist, he directed us
to his corn-crib, where we lay concealed until the follow,
ing night. After dark we obtained a substantial meal,
and continued our progress toward Wilkesboro, having
secured the services of a guide.
The road was extremely rough, being so excessively
cut up and frozen that we stumbled along like men in the
last stage of intoxication, frequently falling on our knees
and at full length.
One who has not traveled in North Carolina since the
War can form no idea of the state of the roads, which deserve not the name. They have not been repaired for
years, and were never in a good condition. There are
ruts, gullies, embankments, ridges, cuts, over which no
ordinary wagon could move beyond a snail's pace without upsetting half a dozen times every mile. And then,
traveling upon them at night vastly augments the labor
and the difficulty.
The march is exhausting to the last degree. Cold as the
weather often was, our bodies were bathed in perspiration; our blood burned; our limbs ached; our feet were
twisted and strained until they seemed as if they must refuse their office. They became numb and sore, fevered
and frozen by turns. The frozen earth cut through our
boots like knives, and lacerated the tender flesh.
It appeared often as if we must sink down by the wayside-that even the strong magnet of Liberty could draw
us no farther. Yet we exercised our Will. We thought
of the prisons we had left; of the wretched death that




388


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


might overtake u6 if we lagged behind in that wild and
dreary country; and then of the beloved North and the dear
friends from whom we had been so long separated, and
who would greet us there as if we had risen from the
tomb; and the contrast spurred us on. Our strength revived, and our sinews were braced afresh.
About midnight we were within a mile of Wilkesboro.
We essayed to flank the town, and, losing our way, were
compelled to retrace our steps for several miles. We were
all tired out, and obliged to halt when we had finally
passed around and beyond the place. Our blood was
chilled; our limbs were stiff; our frame shook as in an
ague-fit.
We paused and lighted a fire, knowing not where we
were, for our guide had lost his reckoning entirely. We
lay down on the frozen ground, but, exhausted as we
were, we could not sleep. While one side of our bodies
was hot from the flames, we were icy cold on the other.
We suffered more from the sharp, frosty air and the
wintry wind than when in motion. We must go on, and
on we went for five miles, until we reached the banks of
the Yadkin River. It was then broad day, but it was
highly important we should cross the stream at once; for
we had been assured that when we were on the other side
we would be safe.
Fortunately, we met a Unionist who directed us to the
ford, which we found, after wandering up and down for
an hour. A woman was crossing the river in a canoe,
and when she reached the eastern bank we asked for a
man who had been recommended to us. The woman was
wary, fearing we were Home Guards in search of her




THE MARCH ONWARD.


389


husband, the person for whom we inquired. We soon
succeeded in convincing her of her error, when she told
us she was his wife, on her way to Wilkesboro to sell
some butter.   We crossed the stream, but before we
could reach the habitation we were seeking, we heard a
horn blow, and knew it was a signal to the " liers-out."
Having arrived at the dwelling, not a man was visible,
and an elderly woman there proved as absolute a knownothing as it was possible to conceive. She declared she
was utterly destitute of information of any kind on any
subject. We assured her we were friends; that we were
escaped Yankee prisoners; but she could not be convinced; remarking that the Rebels often went about
in disguise, pretending to be what they were not, and
plainly intimating that she did not believe a word of
what we said.
Almost an hour's argument was requisite to prove to
the female skeptic that we were what we had stated.
Then she offered us something to eat-fat pork, buttermilk, and corn-bread, which, as we were very hungry,
we consumed voraciously.   She told us to hide in the
bushes, and that the man we wished to see would soon
join us, as she had sent a messenger for him.
We did so, and ere long the bushwhacker made his
appearance, and was very glad to see us. He introduced
us to several others of his class, and three or four of
Colonel Kirk's regiment. We inquired about the prospect of crossing the Blue Ridge, twenty miles to the
West, and the answer was, that it was useless to make
the attempt; that the mountains were covered with
8now; that, if we endeavored to go over them, we would




390


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


certainly be tracked, caught, and killed.  "It is two
hundred miles to Knoxville," continued the spokesmhn,
"and no one ever reaches there. All who try it are
murdered on the way."
That was encouraging, certainly, to us, who had been
assured our peril would be past when we had crossed
the Yadkin. I laughed at the consolation we had received; though, I confess, the laugh was not from the heart.
We told the bushwhackers we were willing to take the
risk; that we would pay any of them liberally who
would undertake to guide us across the mountains.
None of them would consent; but informed us, if we
would wait until the snow had disappeared, they would
pilot us, but not till then; and that we could live with
them until that time arrived.
Knowing from   past experiences, that dangers and
difficulties generally diminish when we confront, or as
we approach them, we resolved to push on at least to the
base of the Blue Ridge. That night we started, although
we had been told the passes were guarded, and accomplished seven North-Carolina miles-the longest in the
world, except those of Tennessee-when we found another
Union family.  We went into an open corn-crib, and
thinking we could sleep, as the weather had moderated,
we threw ourselves on the ground.
We had barely lain down before the wind veered
round to the North, and blew so coldly on our thinly
attired bodies that sleep was impossible. We had little
or no protection from the blast; and believing I would
freeze there, I removed to another out-house, and was
endeavoring to bury myself among the ears of corn, when




THE MARCH ONWARD.


391


the Unionist came up and said: "Boys, it's too cold
here. I'll put you in my store-house. There's a good
deal of fodder there. My wife will send you food and
quilts, and I reckon you can make yourselves comfortable."
In a few minutes our party of eight —we had discovered and greatly frightened a couple of deserters from
Alabama and Florida, who had traveled on foot all the
way from Richmond, by coming suddenly upon them in
the corn-crib, but whom we left there asleep-were in
the store-house, and very agreeably situated, comparatively. I rested very little that night, but my companions slumbered soundly; and the next morning-the
last day of the year-we told the other four they had
better go on, and that we would wait until January 1st.
So we divided again, and after passing New-Year's Day
in the store-house, we started again that night-clear,
bright, and cold-but not before I had exchanged the
cape of an army over-coat for a quilt-and walked ten
miles, crossing Wilson's Fork at least twenty-five times,
and falling into it at least twelve, arriving about four
o' clock in the morning in Watauga County.
The Laurel Spur of the Blue Ridge we ascended with
little difficulty, and were taken in by a Unionist, who put
us,in the upper part of a store-house, on a feather-bed,
and gave us several coverlets. Strange! I could not sleep;
I never tried more energetically in all my life; but
I lay there stark wide awake all day; the infernal vermin, of which we had not gotten rid, torturing us exceedingly, and driving away repose; our inability to bathe
and change our under-clothes, as we had done regularly




392


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


in Prison, rendering our condition very uncomfortable
in that respect.
On the night of January 2, we engaged the loyal man
who had sheltered us to take us over the Blue Ridge,
which, he informed us, there was no difficulty in crossing, as the passes were not guarded, and the snow was
not deep enough to impede our progress.
We had anticipated vast difficulty and extreme fatigue
from that part of the journey, and we were greatly
pleased to hear him express himself so encouragingly,
particularly as we fancied, once beyond that range of
mountains, we would have a fair prospect of getting
through.
Experience proved the correctness of our guide's observation. We found the ascent far easier than some of
the roads we had traveled, and we enjoyed a fine view
of the surrounding country at the summit, twenty-five
hundred feet above sea-level.
We were in fine condition. We descended, obtaining
very picturesque views of mountain scenery, which we
were hardly in a proper frame of mind fully to appreciate,
and reached and crossed New River. We were very glad
to see a river sensible enough to run North, as that did,
and we knelt down and kissed and quaffed its limpid
waters in token of our admiration for its judgment.
Made fifteen miles that night, much of it very hard
traveling. Fell into a number of mountain streams, and
were quite wet when we reached our destination. The
weather cold and wind cutting, as we crawled into our
usual place of shelter and concealment-a barn. Were
very hungry, and ate a piece of corn bread with exceed



THE MARCH ONWARD.


393


ing relish, as we lay covered up, but shivering, in the
hay. My note-book reads: " How I long for the snowy
sheets and soft pillows-shall I say the softer snowy
arms?-I have known in the beloved and blessed North!"
I presume, as the feeling is very natural, that the wish
must have come from the heart.
January 3, we made the first march by day, having
been assured it was perfectly safe. No doubt it was, for
it was by foot-paths over very steep, rough mountains,
through laurel thickets and rocky streams, and over
fallen timber. The snow was ten to twelve inches deep
on the mountains, and we were eight hours in going ten
miles. We often fell head over heels in descending, and
sometimes hurt ourselves not a little, by striking trees
and stumps; and in ascending we had to drag ourselves
up by the branches of trees, and with the aid of our staffs
almost constantly.
At the end of our stage we learned we were in Johnson
County, Tennessee, three miles from the North-Carolina
line. Out of that State we were at last; and much we
felicitated ourselves on the fact.  That began to look
like successful escape-like a reward for all our endurance and suffering.
We had been told when we arrived in Tennessee we
would be perfectly safe.  In fact, those stories were
repeated to us all along the route. The place we chanced
to be in was very dangerous; but just beyond-ten,
twenty, or thirty miles-there was another place, where
there was no danger whatever.
When we left Salisbury, to reach Wilkes County was
to be secure.  When we quitted the Union settlement,




894


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


all we needed for safety was to get beyond Wilkesboro.   Then, when we had crossed the Yadkin, we
could lay aside all apprehension; and beyond the Yadkin we met reckless bushwhackers and hardy mountaineers, who would not venture to go with us over
the Blue Ridge, but told us it was madness to make the
attempt.
Our natural deduction was, from all this, that no locality was safe except that over which the blessed Banner
of Stars waved; and to see that once more was our aim,
our anxiety, our aspiration.
In Johnson County we obtained an excellent supper
for that region-the best we had had-and we ate ravenously after our mountain climbing, and a fast of fifteen
hours.
The Union people to whom we went put us in their
barn, advising us to be very cautious, as the North Carolina Home Guards frequently came into that county, and
robbed and burned without the least regard to person or
property.
The loyalists of that section had suffered fearfully.
Marauders had frequently been through there, and stolen
women's and children's clothes, broken open trunks and
drawers, and carried off articles of which they had no
need. They had stolen provisions, until the poor people
were sometimes compelled to beg; had applied the torch
to the dwellings.of honest farmers before their eyes, and
threatened to hang them if they complained of the outrage.
We assured our protector, if we were discovered, that
we would fully exculpate him; that we would make




-7


--
-s-"
r


"Al/:lil III
1~lli\iix
II1 I;Iii




N/~i. 1.


/


(/2
7
F
I
I

i,":~V


J;~
i
j


"y'~!'T~y
IZ








THE MARCH ONWARD.


395


oath, if need there were, that he knew nothing of our
"being in his barn.
We crept under some fodder, and slept at intervals
until morning, when we returned to the house and ate
"breakfast, while two of the old man's daughters stood
picket. We then learned we had had several narrow
escapes in coming down the mountain.   We had been
mistaken for Home Guards; and several of the bushwhackers had had their rifles leveled at us, when some
fortunate circumstance intervened to prevent them from
pulling the trigger.
None of us were anxious to be shot, but if that was
our destiny, we preferred to be perforated by a genuine
Rebel rather than by our natural allies and political
friends.
Our boots being cut and burst out, we set forth to find
a cobbler, and did so. While we were waiting for the
return of our foot-coverings, in a hay-loft, we were visited by a number of bushwhackers, who wanted us to
stay with them; assuring us we would make excellent
members of the profession. They related many of their
adventures, and entertained us for some time, though
we did not feel inclined to accept their proposition. Received a great deal of advice as to the best course for us
to pursue; and if the adage be sound, that in multiplicity
of counselors there is safety, we should have been entirely
out of danger.
Heard a great deal about Home Guards, Rebel scouts,
and cavalry; were advised to stay where we were, and
depart at once; but as we could not do both, we concluded to remain in the neighborhood of Drake's Creek
26




396


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


until we could learn something of the situation further
on. The other party were in the vicinity, waiting, as we
were, for information, which was very difficult of obtainment.
We were naturally very anxious to learn where our
forces were, having heard some miles back that they were
at Peach Orchard, Tenn. It was then reported they were
not there, but were certainly at Carter's D6p6t, in Carter
County, and that the cars were running to Greenville, on
the East Tennessee and Virginia Railway. Our hearts
leaped at that intelligence; for we could make Greenville in three or four days more. Our hope of getting
through to our lines became something tangible, and we
had no higher boon to ask than Freedom, which, after the
repair of our boots, we had less fear of losing through
any failure of leather.
After burrowing in the corn-husks of a barn, on the
night of January 4th, we were informed by our Unionist
friend that some hundreds of the enemy's cavalry were
reported coming down the road, and that, as they would
certainly search all the stables and outhouses for fodder
and horses, we had better flee to the mountains for concealment. We had had so many alarms that The Tribune scribes put little faith in the story, and were disposed to lie still; but as the others were uneasy, and
extreme prudence is the best policy of unarmed men, we
crawled out of our nests, and sallied forth into a bright,
still, cold night, resembling, with the snow, the mountains, and the frosted pines, the Polar regions far more
than the sunny South.
The more we reflected on the report of the Rebel cav



THE MARCH ONWARD.


397


airy the less we believed it; and therefore, instead of
climbing the mountains, we elected to invade some other
shed, in a more secluded place. We roamed about for
two hours, like Scandinavian specters, over the rough,
frozen, snow-covered ground, and at last crept into a
barn, where I lay sleepless until morning, and almost
frozen, being barely able to stand when I rose to my feet.
Very weary and wearing was that species of existence;
but through the heavy clouds we had faith the sun
would ere long break in golden glory. Referring to my
note-book, I find these words: "This experience will be
pleasant some day to look back on, and talk about; but it
is difficult to undergo, requiring all the patience and philosophy I can master. Any thing for freedom! Though
I perish in the effort to regain it, I shall not regret it, I am
sure, if conscious in a future state of what has occurred
in the present."
That very day, January 5, we made preparations to
go forward, having found an individual who said he
would guide us to Carter's D6p6t. Very glad were we
to be on the march once more, as we were tired enough
of freezing in haystacks and corn-lofts, and skulking
from barn to barn, from valley to mountain, from ridge
to ravine.
We met the second party, consisting of Sergeant Thurston, the other two escaped prisoners, and the three Rebel
deserters, at the cabin of a loyal woman, whose husband
had gone to the Yankees; and after obtaining a hearty
meal, and taking rations enough in our haversacks for
two days, we waited for the guide.
While we were waiting, several of us ascended an




398           FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.
adjacent mountain, to see a party of Unionists who were
lying out. Some of them had been in the Rebel service,
and others had fled from home to avoid conscription.
They had been living in rude huts or holes in the ground
for twelve, some for twenty-four months, obtaining provisions from their relatives or friends, but never remaining at home or sleeping in a bed for a single night.
The men were hardy, determined fellows, only violent
when they spoke of the enemies of the country and the
wrong they had suffered at their hands. They all had
their stories of outrage and wrong to relate; and no one
who heard them could refrain from pitying their condition, and sharing their hatred of the Rebels.




THE HEGIRA IN EAST TENNESSEE.


399


CHAPTER LII.
THE HEGIRA IN EAST TENNESSEE.
Traveling in that Region.-Passage of the Piney and Stone Mountains.-Crossing the Watauga River.-Invitation to a Frolic.-Peculiar Reason for our
Declination.-Recklessness Engendered by our Situation.-Meeting with Dan
Ellis, the Pilot, and his Party.-His Kindness and Generosity.-The Effect of
Apple Brandy.-Mysterious Disappearance of a Bohemian.-Severe Marching.
-Strain on the Nervous System.-Reports of Rebels in our Vicinity.-A
Valuable Steed and his Fate.-Anxiety of our Guides to Meet the Enemy.
THE guide arrived at the cabin about three o'clock in
the afternoon, and we set out at once for Carter's depot.
We crossed Piney and Stone Mountains, the steepest
and most difficult we had encountered, and had a fine view
of the Alleghanies from   their summit. They reminded
me of an earth-storm; the barren peaks looking like vast
billows frozen into stone. The snow was some twelve
inches deep, and the march arduous, but romantic. We
slipped, tumbled, and fell along in the most ludicrous
style, and tore our newly mended boots worse than ever.
Leather appeared to have no       power to endure those
mountain marches. It was like paper against the sharp
stones and rough rocks.
We had not proceeded more than twelve miles before
our pilot said he must return. We told him         he had
promised to take us to Carter's depot; but he vowed he
had not; though he would do it if his wife were not sick,




400


FOUR YEARS IN bECESSIA.


and in need of his attention. We offered him any remuneration if he would accompany us; even proposed to
pay for his consort should she die in his absence; but he
would not be persuaded or hired, and we were compelled
to give him up, though very reluctantly.
Kindling a fire in one of the gorges, we sat by it until
dark, when we continued our march under our own
supervision. We stopped at the house of a Tennessee
clergyman about ten o'clock, and there had an ample
meal. He was a fine specimen of an upright, bold, outspoken loyalist. He had four sons in the Union service;
said he wished he had four more, and that he would have
been there himself if his years and health would have
allowed him to be. He congratulated us on our escape,
and said he would pray for our safe arrival within our
lines; told us what direction to take, and what people to
see, regretting he could not pilot us himself on account
of his rheumatism.
After resting we proceeded, and about three o'clock
the next morning reached the farm to which we had been
directed, and, as usual, went to the barn-having made
some eighteen miles from the last settlement. No sleep
worthy the name, of course; arose from our couch of hay
about eight o'clock, January 6, and accepted our host's
invitation to breakfast with remarkable promptness. He
told us we were in quite a secUre region, and that there
would be little danger in traveling to and along the
Watauga River by daylight.
We took him at his word, bathed in Roan's Creek, and
felt refreshed and lighter-spirited. We had a pleasant
ramble along the Watauga, which reminded me of the




THE HEGIRA IN EAST TENNESSEE.


401


Kentucky River, being quite picturesque and romantic,
for eight miles, when we crossed in a canoe to Carter
County, and, going to one of our cordon of Union men,
received a warm welcome, and the best and freest of his
hospitality. We slept in a bed, with more comfort than
usual, undetermined whether to wait for some time or
push on the next day. We heard all the Rebels had left
below, and were once more assured that our forces held
Greenville, but not Carter's dep6t. We breathed more
and more freely as we progressed, the prospect of freedom
growing brighter every day.
Where we then were we met a number of Union Tennessee soldiers, who had come home on furlough, some
of whom were soon to return to their regiments. They
were going about very openly, giving us an idea there
was not much danger in that neighborhood from the
enemy.
They even had what they called a "frolic" one night,
and invited us; but, as we had no arms, we did not deem
it prudent to go; for it was not unusual for the Home
Guards to surround the houses in which the company
gathered, and shoot the men as they went out.
Several cases of the kind had occurred a few weeks
before our arrival in Wilkes County; and when the deserters were gathered in force, they would invite the
Guard to call again; but, when expected and prepared
for, they invariably stayed away.
I remember some years ago, in New Orleans, I was
amused to see in the papers advertisements of masquerades, to the effect that gentlemen were requested to leave
their weapons at the door. But not until I became a fugi



402


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


tive in Secessia had I ever declined an invitation to join
a social circle because I had no weapons to take there
"with me.
Unique country that, and peculiar state of society down
there, particularly since the War!
Our party had been entertained, from the time of its
escape, by assurances of people we met along the road
that we were likely to be shot at any time by our friends
from the brush, or in the mountain passages.
Life was evidently of no value in the sections through
which we passed, as we learned from the stories of murders and butcheries almost daily told. That wild mountain life generated recklessness and indifference, no doubt,
as we ourselves experienced. Though seemingly in the
midst of perpetual danger, we cared little, if any thing,
for the possibilities or probabilities of the future; but
often amused ourselves with representing how "our
special Correspondent" would appear with a rope about
his neck, or a bullet through his brain.
On the whole, that nervousness we expected to have
on the march through the enemy's country, and that constant anxiety about our capture or massacre, we did not
feel to any extent. We determined to do all that lay in
our power to effect our escape and reach our lines, and
left the result in the hands of the Gods. We became for
the time being fatalists, as most men are prone to who
lead hazardous lives, and were resolved not to worry
ourselves about the Unseen, or entertain grave apprehensions respecting the Untried.
About noon of January 7, our host agreed to take
us across the country by.,a secret path to a relative of




THE HEGIRA IN EAST TENNESSEE.


403


his, residing on the banks of the Watauga; telling us that
a famous guide, Dan Ellis, of whom we had heard a great
deal, was soon to go through to our lines with a party,
and that, if we could strike him, there would be little
danger of our failure to seeing our freedom. That was
exactly what we wanted, and we marched off very
briskly; crossed the river about three o' clock in the afternoon, and were soon comfortably ensconced by the fireside of the most comfortable dwelling we had seen on our
journey.
At that resting-place we converted ourselves into
washer-women, going out on the bank of the river, lighting a huge fire under an iron kettle, and abluting our
under-clothes with more energy than skill; and all night,
though it was frosty, denuding and bathing ourselves in
the stream. Of course we must have felt quite secure to
do those things, and we did, from the fact that the house
where we were stopping was on the other side of the
river from the road-the stream was so high, too, as to be
unfordable, and situated in front of a gap between the
mountains, furnishing an excellent means of retreat if we
were pursued. It was really an intrenched position, and
we could afford to expose ourselves there.
Sunday, January 8, we deemed it well to push forward
to the rendezvous from which Dan Ellis was to start that
night. We crossed the river in the morning, and after
going five miles found the other party, and took a bountiful luncheon, furnished by a generous-hearted Unionist,
in an open field. We then set out for the rendezvous,
and heard that Ellis would certainly be there. Soon after
he sent word for the footmen to move on; that he would




404


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


speedily be along and overtake us. That was sufficient;
for Ellis's word was not to be doubted.
Our united party of seven escaped prisoners and three
deserters started with some fifteen more that had assembled to join Ellis, but had not gone more than two
miles before the famous pilot was up with us. We three
Correspondents were presented to Ellis, who assured us
we should be put through in the right kind of style;
that all we had to do was to keep with him, if we wanted
to see the Stars and Stripes again.
His party was very miscellaneous, made up of Tennessee Union soldiers, Rebel deserters, loyal Southern citizens, conscripts who would not serve, and escaped prisoners. He had about twenty horses and mules, and he
offered us Bohemians an opportunity to ride, which we
accepted; but I found the animal that I strode so slow
and indolent that it tired me more to urge him along than
to walk, and I dismounted after a mile of persevering
toil to little purpose.
Ellis loaned his mule to Mr. Richardson, and, carrying
his carbine, which fired sixteen times without re-loading,
walked more rapidly than almost any horse could. Most
of his party were mountaineers, and quite fresh, while
we had been twenty months in prison, and had then accomplished over two hundred miles under very adverse
circumstances. I for one found it very difficult to keep
up with the party at first, having fallen behind by being
on that Rosinante. On several occasions I was compelled
to run for more than a mile at a time, falling over logs
and into streams in my usual fashion.
I had grown,so accustomed to falling in that mountain




THE HEGIRA IN EAST TENNESSEE.


405


travel that it interfered very little with my progress. I
found I could get along about as well by standing on my
head, turning somersaults, and performing acts of ground
and lofty tumbling generally, as by regular pedestrianizing.
That night's march was tremendous. We went twentyseven miles long before dawn, and found, after crossing
the Nolechucky, *that we had lost several of our party,
three mules, most of the rations, and I know not what else.
The truth was, some of Ellis's men had drank too much
apple brandy, becoming so intoxicated that they parted
with their reason, and, when asked, could not tell where
any thing was. One of them, indeed, really lost his identity, and declared he was somebody else; that the other
fellow-giving his own name-was so d-d drunk that
they had left him behind.
Among the mysterious disappearances was Mr. Richardson. It was supposed he had gotten behind, and that
the mule had taken the wrong road. We were unwilling
to go on without The Tribune scribe, so we bivouacked,
and sent scouts out to obtain tidings of the missing individuals. They all came to light, having run off the track
by some means unknown to themselves. My associate
trusted to his mule, and the mule, having delightfully
original instincts, wandered off in a North-Easterly instead of a South-Westerly direction. The journalist, discovering his confidence in the animal had been betrayed,
concluded to suspend operations, and put up for the
night on a log. When the morning dawned, he found a
farmer who informed him of the right road, and in four
hours after he was in our camp. The other mules were
discovered, but the rations never revealed themselves.




406


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Monday, January 9, we quitted camp in Washington
County about eleven o' clock in the morning, and set out
to cross the mountains, Big Butt being the highest and
hardest to climb of any we had seen. It is seven thousand feet above sea-level, and seven miles from summit
to base. By Jove! how we did toil up that steep! It
seemed as if we never would get up, and, once up, as if
we never would get down. The horses and mules could
hardly be dragged to the top, though they had nothing to
carry. My strength and endurance were augmenting,
although I rarely was able to sleep; and that day I
followed immediately behind Ellis until we had descended to the valley in Greene County.
The rain and sleet had been falling for hours when we
paused for the night; we had had nothing to eat and we
were quite wet. We had no shelter, but tried to arrange
an old roof of a house, that had fallen down, for that
purpose; and failing to effect it,- Messrs. Davis and
Richardson, and myself, undertook to discover some
farm-house where we could procure food. We were
successful in that, as well as in engaging a few bundles
of corn-husks for a couch in a wretched fodder-loft.
We rested far better than we had expected, owing, no
doubt, to the extreme hardships we had undergone.
For the first time, I felt a 'tremendous strain on my
nervous system, caused by the fact that it was always
on the rack while with Ellis, for fear, from his rapid
movements, I should be left behind and lost, which was
equivalent to forfeiting all hope of freedom, if not of
life. Those mountain men never halted; they rushed
on without looking back or waiting for any one. They




THE HEGIRA IN EAST TENNESSEE.


407


would go through a ravine or gorge, leap across a creek,
dart into a laurel or an ivy thicket, and all trace of
them be gone, though you were behind them only five
seconds. I remember, after keeping at the head of the
file for a number of hours, I stopped to give a soldier
a drink from my canteen, and I lost nearly a mile. So
it was. There was little resting, and instead of marching steadily and leisurely, they would go at a breakneck pace that fatigued all of us more in a mile than
three miles would have done at an ordinary and regular
gait.
My boots became more broken than ever on the 9th,
and, having split across the joint of the foot, when they
grew wet and shrank they gave me much pain in walking. I began to be very anxious about getting through
after my seven-leaguers showed such unmistakable signs
of complete dissolution, knowing that to lose their usefulness was to lose all else.
January 10.-We three procured a light breakfast
at a farm-house, proving much more fortunate than
most of our companions, who were half famished. Heard
an immense deal about Rebels-that there were several
squads in the neighborhood, and so many scouting the
country that it was hardly possible to get through.
Two men who had come from North Carolina with us
became alarmed and turned back, selling their horses
to the highest bidder.
Mr. Richardson purchased one of the steeds, and
though neither very fleet nor handsome, he had qualities to wear-out his rider.  My confrere was much
exhausted, and needed an animal to ride, even if it did




408


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


not appear well, or evince any indications of patrician
lineage. He rode the beast through to Strawberry Plains,
and then paid a negro ten dollars to give him Christian
burial, which he deserved, for the service he had rendered. The poor horse did not wish to defer his obsequies, for, having eaten several bushels of corn, he
exploded into so many pieces that they could not be
collected for interment.
Poor Rosinante' was not a serious loss; for, although
my associate paid fifty dollars in treasury notes for him,
his original cost, with eleven other animals like him,
was at the rate of five dollars per dozen in Rebel currency.
The rain continued to fall steadily, and we were all
drenched; the roads becoming almost impassable from
mud. About eleven o'clock the sky cleared, and we
resumed our march on the alert for the enemy; having
no fear of any small squad, for there were eight or ten
carbines in Ellis's party, and as many revolvers, which
the owners knew how to use, as the Rebels had learned
in past times to their cost. At least ten of the Unionists
were old scouts and rangers, who had frequently engaged the "Confederates," and, so far from      being
desirous to avoid them, were extremely anxious to come
in collision with any thing like their own number; feeling
confident, as they expressed it, that they could " sweeten
their coffee" for them in a very few minutes.




DAN ELLIS, THE FAMOUS PILOT.


409


CHAPTER LIII.
DAN ELLIS, THE FAMOUS PILOT.
Sketch of his Life and Career.-His uncompromising Loyalty.-Efforts to
Suppress him.-His success as a Pilot.-Mode of Joining his Expeditions.-His
Adventures and Narrow Escapes.-His Attachment to his Carbine.-His
Opinion of the Confederacy.-A Rebel Officer's Views of his Usefulness to
the Union Cause.
DAN ELLIS, or Captain Dan Ellis, as he is often called,
is one of the notabilities of East Tennessee. He is a native
of Carter County, and one of the most ultra and irrepressible Unionists in that extremely loyal section. From the
beginning of the troubles, he took a most decided stand
for the Government, and has maintained it ever since.
He was at all times open, bold, and decided in his opposition to, and hatred of, the Rebels, and declared, whatever temporary success they might have, they would be
ultimately  crushed, and the so-called "Confederacy"
with them.
Ellis is about thirty-five years old; rather slight, but
muscular, and agile as a cat; of vigorous constitution and
immense endurance; brave as Belisarius, but prudent and
cunning; entirely familiar with the country within a radius of four or five hundred miles; accustomed to all the
hardships and adventures of frontier life; candid, generous, and amiable to everybody but the Rebels, whose
right to existence he does not clearly perceive.




410


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Though uneducated, Ellis is intelligent, a close observer, a good judge of men, strictly honest and abstemious,
and, with all his fondness for a wild and reckless life,
tenderly attached to his wife and children. He has the
greatest regard for his word, and all who know him
accept his simple statement with the most implicit faith.
His promises every one relies on; and among the people
of his county,. "Dan Ellis says so" is an indubitable
evidence of truthfulness.
His outspoken sentiments at the inception of the Rebellion, and his uncompromising hatred of the enemies of
his country, soon made him a marked man, and excited
against him the most violent hatred of the Secessionists.
He was rather an unpleasant person to draw into a quarrel, and therefore many of the traitors, who would have
been delighted to find an excuse for attacking him, hesitated to do so, knowing his courage and determination,
and the violence of his passions when once aroused.
His foes tried to intimidate him, sending him warnings,
and making the most sanguinary menaces. He heeded
them not, but continued his labor oi his farm, neither
seeking nor avoiding quarrels if they were thrust upon
him. Before the Summer of 1861 ended, he had several
rencounters with Secessionists, and had been shot and
stabbed once or twice, but not seriously.
At last, so bitter was the feeling against Ellis, that
numerous plots were formed to murder him; and he
would certainly have fallen a victim to some of them,
had the designs of the villains not been revealed to him
in season for his own security. Yielding to the solicitations of his wife and friends, he quitted his home, and




DAN ELLIS, THE FAMOUS PILOT.


411


resided in Kentucky for a while, but soon returned in
the capacity of guide or pilot to those who wished to
reach our lines.
The qualities we have named admirably fitted him for
that business; and though he frequently took charge of
parties of one and two hundred at a time, he always
conducted them through safely. For many months Ellis
piloted Unionists and Southern deserters all the way from
Carter County to Louisville, Kentucky; and, after the
fall of Donelson, to Nashville, Tennessee.
For a year and a half previous to our meeting him, he
had been piloting parties to Knoxville; and so well was
he acquainted with the men, women, and children belonging to every loyal family in Western North Carolina and
East Tennessee, and with every by-road and bridle-path
and mountain way and ford of river and of stream, that
there was little fear of his failing to take those under his
guidance to their destination. Indeed, those who knew
Ellis best, said the Captain had never lost but one man,
and that he was captured through his own indiscretion.
Since the beginning of the war, Ellis, it is said, has conducted to our lines fully five thousand men, most of
whom would have been forced into the Rebel service if
they had remained in Secessia. His name is known all
over Tennessee. He makes regular journeys between
Knoxville and Carter County, and the time when he proposes to move from his own home to our lines is understood for miles around.  All who want to go join his
party on the way, he and his experienced scouts being
in advance, and giving directions to the rest.
Old men and boys, conscripts and deserters, sometimes
27




412


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


women and children, flock to Ellis's cavalcade as it moves
by, and he takes the best care of them, often purchasing provisions for those who have not the means. He
makes no charge for his services, though they who wish
to remunerate him can do so. He has supplied a number
of soldiers to the Tennessee Union regiments, and the
Government has paid him for many that he has furnished,
which, with the horses and mules he buys and sells, and
not unfrequently confiscates, when they prove the property of Rebels, enables him to live; and I understand he
has accumulated a fair amount of property.
The "Confederates" have declared he should not live
in Tennessee; but he has sworn he would, whether they
like it or not, and he has kept his word. He is often absent from his home in the mountains for months at a time;
but he generally sees his wife and children every few
weeks, sometimes being compelled to steal into and out
of the house. The Rebels have threatened to burn his
hofise frequently, but have not carried their menaces into
execution,-whether from the fact that his wife is a very
amiable and kind-hearted woman, though as loyal, and almost as courageous, as her husband, or that they fear the
vengeance of her liege-lord, I cannot say.  I presume
it is from the latter reason.
Ellis' s house has been surrounded a number of times by
armed bands, on several occasions when he was there;
but he has either hidden where they could not find him,
or gotten out surreptitiously, or run the gantlet of their
fire without injury to himself. Few men have had more
narrow escapes; though he says the traitors have been
trying to put his light out for four years, but that he does




DAN ELLIS, THE FAMOUS PILOT.


413


not think he was born to be hurt by them. He has become a predestinarian in the fullest sense of the term.
All kinds of ingenious plans have been laid to entrap
Ellis, but he has had so many friends among the people
who would give him timely information, that he always
contrived, to defeat the purpose of his foes. They even
set a price upon his head at one time, and Rebels skulked
about his farm, for weeks, to shoot him. But, as several
of them were shot while they were watching for Dan,
they concluded it would not be worth their while to engage in the business permanently, and at once embraced
safer and more profitable avocations.
The poor and loyal people of East Tennessee have a
most enthusiastic admiration for Ellis, and would secrete
him, or work or fight for him, under any circumstances.
He has been extremely kind to them ever; has given
them provisions and money when they were in need;
brought dresses for the women and children, and endeared himself to the loyal community in the most extraordinary manner. They all regard him as a very near
friend, and if he were to be a candidate for any office in
that section, I venture to say he would obtain every yote
of the laboring classes.
The number of adventures Dan has had would make a
large and very readable volume. He says little of them
himself; but his companions informed me how many
chases the Rebels had given him; how they had emptied their cartridge-boxes at him again and again; how
they had shot through his hat, coat, and boots; killed his
horse, and pursued him on foot without injuring him seriously, or making him prisoner. They would not capture




414


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


him, or if they did, they would dispatch him, as they
have often threatened. They sent him word, once, that
they would never take him prisoner, unless he ceased
to assist "citizens and soldiers of the Confederacy" through
to the Union lines; and his answer was, that he did not
design to give them any opportunity; but that he would
put every Union man in God's country who wanted to
go there, if the Rebels built a wall round the State five
hundred feet high.
Dan's carbine he never allows to go out of his hands,
sleeping with it inhis arms, and setting it at his side when
he takes his meals. On one occasion he was pursued for
at least ten miles, through a mountainous region, and
had emptied his piece of its sixteen cartridges; but still,
though his life depended on his rapid flight, he would
not throw away his beloved carbine, heavy as it was,
and much as it impeded his progress.
"That old gun," said Ellis, "has saved me a dozen
times; and if the Rebels ever kill me, that carbine shall
be the last thing I will hold on earth."
"Give that up! throw that away!" exclaimed Dan,
passionately, holding up the piece; " why, it's my best
friend! I'd as soon think of giving up my wife as that
old blazer; without that, I'd have been under the sod
long ago. Oh no, I can't let that go;" and he drew his
carbine to his breast as if it had been a woman, and his
keen gray eye glistened with emotion at the very idea of
parting with so old and faithful a companion.
During 1863, Ellis went to Knoxville, and was elected
Captain of a company of one of the loyal Tennessee regiments, mainly composed of men he had brought through




DAN ELLIS, THE FAMOUS PILOT.


415


the lines; but after being in the service a few months, the
Commandant of the post told him he thought he could be
of much more advantage to the cause and country by
resuming his old avocation. Dan thought so too, saying the Army was rather dull after scouting, and gladly
resigned to return to the wilder, more exciting, and daring
life he had before followed.
Many of Ellis's friends were anxious he should remove
his family from Carter County to Knoxville; but he declared he would remain just where he was. "I worked
and paid for that patch of ground," he remarked, "and
I'm going to stay until the 'Confederacy' is moved down
to the Gulf, and towed out to sea and sunk where there's
no bottom. What's the use of my moving when the
Rebels are moving so fast? Why, if I were to dodge
around as the 'Confederacy' is doing, rolling up and
growing thinner every day, I'd have no place to stand on
-not even the last ditch. No, sir, I can't move a bit.
Let the ' Confederacy' move off of my farm, where it has
no business. I've only got to stay there a little while
longer, and there won't be any 'Confederacy' to move
out of."
Dan was right, as recent events have proved.
No one man, I venture to say, in all Tennessee, has
done more to injure the Rebels and the Rebel cause than
Ellis. He has taken away their deserters and conscripts;
spread disaffection and despondency among the half-secessionists; confiscated their horses and mules; bushwhacked their soldiers and officers, and more or less
demoralized the entire community in which he lived.
Hundreds of persons, less strong and self-reliant than




416


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


he, looked up to him for support and counsel. When
the days of the Republic were darkest, he bade them be
of good cheer; when they were about to yield and go
over to the enemy, he strengthened their weak knees,
and pointed to a radiant future they could not see.
One of the insurgent leaders said: " Ellis is worse than
a Yankee regiment, and I would rather have one stationed
in Carter County than have Dan there. Confound the
Tory scoundrel! he must be in league with the devil. We
have hunted him, shot at him, put a price on his head,
watched his house, and had him surrounded and almost
in our hands a score of times; and yet he always contrives to give us the slip.
"D-    him to H —! I'd rather hang him than Andy
Johnson or old Brownlow. He's done us more harm, I
believe, than both of those Tories, for he comes right into
our midst, and finds out what we are doing; and before
we learn he is among us, he's off to Knoxville again,
giving information to the Yankee authorities. If I could
hang him, I'd die easier, I believe; and I'd give my last
nigger for the privilege; I would, by G —!"




THE NAMELESS HEROINE.


417


CHAPTER LIV.
THJ   NAMELESS HERbINE.-UNDER THE STARS AND
STRIPES ONCE MORE.
Pursuit of the Enemy.-Alarm and Separation of our Party.-Our Fair Guide.Her Appearance and Antecedents.-Our Continued March.-Confiscation of
Horses.-Our Last Night Out.-Sensations on Approaching the Union Lines.Chagrin of the Rebels at our Escape.-Their Absurd Stories about the
Departed Bohemians.
EARLY in the afternoon of January 10, we hear five or
six of the hostile cavalry are in advance of us only a few
miles. Ellis immediately calls for those who have arms
to follow him, and away they dash in pursuit of the
foe; while the rest of us, who are on foot and weaponless,
trudge along the road toward Kelly's Gap in the Nolechucky mountains, arriving there just before sunset.
That was the appointed rendezvous, and Ellis and his
party reached there about dusk, after a long and useless
chase, and we prepared to camp for the night. Dan
went to one of the Union houses, a few miles distant, and
returned with the information that we were almost surrounded by the Rebels; that it would be necessary for
the horsemen to separate from the footmen, so that in the
event of pursuit the latter would not be taken.
All was activity at once. Those who had lain down,
in the deserted and dilapidated cabins of the abandoned
plantation to which we had repaired, were aroused.




418


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Horses and mules were saddled, fires extinguished, and
every preparation made for speedy departure.
The cavalry were to move first, the infantry to follow, after the others had gone far enough in advance.
Ellis offered me a mule-Richardson and Davis were
mounted-but as it had no saddle, and I remembered my
partial bisection the night we journeyed to the Union
settlement in Wilkes County, I respectfully declined;
preferring to walk rather than to undergo a repetition of
those tortures. I even gave Davis my quilt to use as a
saddle-cloth, and bade my friends good-by, fully expecting to see them again in the morning, at the furthest.
After they had been gone about half an hour, a scout
named Treadway, who had been placed in charge of the
footmen, told us to fall in; that we were to cross a
mountain and descend into a ravine, where we would
camp until the next night.
"But where are we to meet the other party?" inquired
I. "0, we won't see them again until we reach Knoxville, if we ever have the good luck to get there."
We had learned the day before, that all the stories
about our forces being at Greenville and other adjacent
points were without foundation; that our lines were
at Strawberry Plains, fifteen miles East of Knoxville;
and that we must go there before we could have any
hope of freedom.
That was nearly a hundred miles farther, and the intelligence was rather disheartening, for we had been
imagining our journey was nearly at an end. No doubt
many of us felt like the North Carolinian of the party,
who had been in prison nearly three years, when asked




THE NAMELESS HEROINE.


419


if he was tired. " Tired?" echoed he, with a mingled
air of disgust and contempt.  "Why this would wear
out an iron man."
The reply of the scout: " We won't see them until we
reach Knoxville," smote on my heart like the sound of
my death-knell.
Separation  from my friends-the three companions
with whom I had escaped, with whom I had endured so
much in prison and on the march to freedom-seemed a
calamity I could not bear. It foreshadowed to me every
thing gloomy and horrible-recapture, dungeons, despair,
and death.
And while I stood there in the darkness-not to
advance for twenty-four hours-they were every minute
hurrying away, making the distance greater between us.
They are going to freedom, I thought, and I am left
behind. My doom is written. Liberty is not for me.
I shall perish here in these mountains, and the few who
feel an interest in me will never know my fate.
Materially considered, too, I had lost my quilt, which
had saved me much suffering, and I was penniless, my
Bohemian brothers having all the money there was in
our party.
The record in my note-book is: "I have no more hope
now of getting through; yet will I do my utmost, and
compel the strong spirit to rule the weak flesh. I will
march till I fall fainting on the road from hunger, cold,
and exhaustion. I am resolved never to give up. Still
am I most worn, weary, and wretched; and all my dark
views of Human Life and Experience come up mentally
darker and grimmer than before."




420


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


The pedestrians proceeded to the ravine, and built a
big fire; the weather was too cold to sleep. We were
hungry, having had nothing to eat for twenty-four hours,
and there was little prospect of getting any thing.
The scout went off somewhere, and left us alone, most
of the party being ignorant, silly, coarse, imprudent fellows-mere children in character, whom I cbuld not
induce to stand picket, or act cautiously about any thing.
They disgusted me greatly, and I saw there was little
safety with such simpletons.
The scout returned, having visited a number of Unionists, who reported us in a very dangerous vicinity; that
we yet had many perils to encounter, and must be extremely cautious if we wanted to reach our lines. The
worst of our perils, it seemed to me, were hunger, cold,
and exhaustion.
About noon we had an alarm from some Rebel cavalry,
who passed along a road so near us that we distinctly
heard their words. Supposing they had seen us, we precipitately left our camp fire, and ran up the mountain
in fine confusion. After running at high speed for some
hundreds of yards, I paused to observe if any 6ne was
following us; and perceiving no one, I called out, and
we all stopped; then reconnoitered; then returned to our
camping-place. The fire of dry wood was still burning
in the chilly, crisp air, and several haversacks and
blankets, left in the rapidity of retreat, lay there undisturbed. It was evident the enemy had not known of
our whereabouts, and had passed on unconscious of our
presence.
Toward evening I began to be resigned to my new site




THE NAMELESS HEROINE.


421


nation, having the consolation of knowing that the separation between me and my companions would prevent
the probability of the recapture or extermination of all
of us. The fate of The Tribune Correspondents was at
least likely, under existing circumstances, to be different.
If Mr. Richardson were retaken, I might get through;
if I wete retaken, he might.
Just before leaving the ravine the scout obtained some
provisions for us, which we enjoyed after our long fast.
We then started at a break-neck pace over the ridges,
falling every few hundred yards so violently that I marveled some of us did not break our limbs.    Once my
knee came in contact with the root of a tree so forcibly that
it seemed shattered, and I did not recover from the soreness and lameness occasioned by the fall for days after.
About sunset our party was on the summit of a ridge
looking down into the valley where resided a girl who,
the night previous, had guided Dan Ellis and his companions, by a private path, out of the way of the Rebels
believed to be in the vicinity. For more than an hour
we sat there watching the house in which she lived, and
seeing ten or twelve Rebel cavalrymen ride up to the
dwelling, and then depart in squads of two or three. At
dusk we descended to the valley cautiously, and met her
at the appointed place, mounted, and ready to act as our
guide. That girl, not more than sixteen or seventeen,
belonging to one of the stanchest loyal families in East
Tennessee, was known to all the Unionists in the county.
She had assisted many true men out of awkward predicaments and dangerous situations, and had shown
herself willing at all times to aid them. She had often




422


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


arisen at night when she obtained intelligence of impor.tance, and communicated it to loyalists some miles distant, preventing their capture or murder by the enemy.
Ellis had known her from childhood, and depended on
her for information whenever he was anywhere in her
neighborhood. She had told him the preceding night of
the presence of the enemy, and recommended the division of his band, as pursuit was possible; assuring him
that she would guide the footmen, as she would him, if
they would be at a certain place at a certain hour.
The girl, whose name I will not give-though I can
state, for the benefit of the romantic, that it is a pretty
one, and would sound well in a novel-was decidedly fair,
intelligent, of graceful figure, and possessed of that indispensable requisite to an agreeable woman-a sweet voice.
I confess I looked at her with some degree of admiration as she sat there, calm, smiling, comely, with the
warm blood of youth flushing in her cheek, under the
flood of mellow moonlight that bathed all the landscape
in poetic softness and picturesque beauty.
It was natural that almost any man of gallantry and
imagination should idealize her, under the circumstances;
but I did not.
I gazed at her as I do at most of her sex, with the cold
eye of Art, and at the unvarying angle of esthetic criticism.
That scene was a good theme for a picture. The girl
mounted, and the central figure, with some eighteen
men in half military, half civil garb, with bronzed faces
and a certain wild appearance, travel-stained, ragged,
anxious-eyed, standing around her in groups, listening




THE NAMELESS HEROINE.


423


to what she said in a low but earnest and pleasantly
modulated tone
She gave directions as quietly and composedly as a
veteran commander in the field, requesting us to keep
some distance behind her; saying that, if she were halted,
we should stop, and lie down; that, when all was safe,
she would cough; and that, if she saw any danger, she
would sneeze to give us warning.
All ready, she struck her horse, a spirited animal, and
darted off at a pace that we pedestrians could hardly
sustain, even running. Confound that girl! I thought.
What does she rush along at this rate for? I have not
had much experience in following in women's lead; and
if this is a specimen, I want no more of it.
We were out of breath, all of us, and had fallen so
often in our haste, that we were suffering from numerous
bruises and abrasions; but she dashed on mercilessly,
dragging us after her.
I reached her side once, and told her to go a little
slower; that we were greatly fatigued, and that some of
us must fall hopelessly behind if she did not check her
pace. She drew in her rein until those who had been
nearly distanced came up, and then only walked her
impatient steed for the remainder of the distance.
She guided us seven miles through woods and ravines,
over mountains and along valleys, away from the frequented roads and paths, until we came to a long bridge
over the Nolechucky River. We were fearful that might
be guarded. So we waited on one side, while she crossed
to the other. If she went on, we were to follow. If she
stopped, we were to wait on the ridge where we lay con



424


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


cealed until she returned to tell us what was in the
way.
Silently we crouched on the frosty ground, hearing her
horse's hoofs ring out clearly and sharply upon the cold
night on the planks of the bridge. But no challenging
voice greeted our attentive ear. The bridge must be
unobstructed, we thought, as the hoofs grew fainter and
fainter; and, at last, when they were no longer audible,
we knew she was on the road riding toward her sister's
house-as she had told us she would-and that, her mission accomplished, we had parted with our fair guide,
and would see her no more.
For the sake of my romantic readers, if I have any, I
wish I could relate the occurrence of some sentimental
scene between one of the Bohemians and the nameless
heroine. It would look well on paper, and read well,
too; but, so far as I can learn, neither of my fellow-journalists exchanged a word with her the night before; and
as for myself, my only feeling toward her was one of irritation at her extreme haste, and my sole words-" Do go
a little slower!"
Nothing like sensational coloring, and sentimental
glitter in composition. If I were not a conscientious
journalist and a veracious historian, I should relate a
parting interview with the fair stranger much after the
manner of Contarini Fleming's separation from the pretty.gipsy.
I should tell how I, or somebody else, took her hand,
and kissed her lips in the moonlight, and saw the tears
start to her eyes; how my heart, or some other person's
heart, beat wildly for a moment, as that vision of beauty,




THE NAMELESS HEROINE.


425


more beautiful in its sorrow, beamed upon the wintry,
Luna-lighted night, and then faded away forever.
But, as nothing of the kind occurred, I shall say nothing of the kind. I shall only wish the dear, devoted
girl the truest and tenderest of lovers, and the brightest
and happiest of lives. Upon her youthful head may the
choicest benisons of Heaven fall unstinted! May violets
of beauty and lilies of sweetness bloom ever in her pathway, and fill with fragrance all her coming days.
What was remarkable about the girl was, that none of
the Rebels suspected her of giving active aid to the Unionists. They knew she was loyal; indeed, she did not deny
her loyalty; but, on the contrary, told them her sympathies
were all with the North, and her most earnest wishes for
the suppression of the Rebellion.
She said what she pleased with impunity. She was
young, pretty, and intelligent. Everybody liked and
petted her as if she were a child, when she had the
feelings, the earnestness, the convictions of a woman;
and, from her openness and candor, they presumed she
told them all she did. They never dreamed of her secret
excursions, her nightly expeditions, her communications
with their enemies.
The Southern officers were half in love with her, and
told her, with great indiscretion, all their plans and expectations, never imagining she would make use of them,
which, of course, she did most effectually. No doubt,
being feminine, and possessing feminine tact, she encouraged her admirers sufficiently to elicit from them what
information she needed, and, in that way, was enabled to
be of invaluable service to her friends.




426


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


For nearly four years, she had devoted her time to the
service of the Republic; had risked her liberty, perhaps
her life; had acted the heroine on the stage of our great
National Drama without the least self-consciousness, or
any other inducement than her attachment to the cause.
Her parents were in comfortable circumstances, quite
wealthy, indeed, for that region, and had given her a very
fair education, and some accomplishments which were
very remarkable for a girl reared in the rural regions of
the South. She had been petted and flattered by Secessionists of both sexes, who had in vain attempted to
seduce her 'rom her allegiance; but she ever. remained
true to her country, and to those who befriended it in the
time of its extremest need.
That she may some day be generously compensated in
a higher than material form for her services, is my earnest
hope and desire; though I feel assured that recent events,
establishing the integrity of the Republic, will be to her
the most precious reward she could receive.
After leaving the heroic girl we marched seventeen
miles, camping on top of a mountain about two o'clock
in the morning, and kindling a fire, when I crept under a
blanket that one of my companions kindly offered me.
Before reaching our camp, I had been an involuntary
witness and apparent sharer in an enterprise which I did
not anticipate and could not countenance.  The scout
who was our guide had heard that a notorious Rebel was
at the house of his father-in-law, and accordingly went
there in search of him. He told us to surround the
house, and we did so-for what purpose I did not know.
He then began beating on the door, and crying to th6




THE NAMELESS HEROINE.


427


"d —   d scoundrel" —that was the mildest of his epithets-to come forth, or he would blow out his brains.
An old man and woman came to the door, and declared
their son-in-law was not at home. They were greatly
frightened, and I felt very sorry for them, and would not
have seen them hurt if I could have prevented it. No one
threatened them; but many of the Tennesseeans swore
and bellowed so loudly, that I do not wonder the poor
people were alarmed.
" Where are that d-  d traitor's horses?" was roared
out a dozen times in a quarter of a minute. The old.man
showed the way to the stable, and in a brief while the
two animals were bridled and saddled, and two of the
Tennesseeans on their backs riding away.
The horses belonged to the Rebel, who was an officer
in some guerrilla band, and no doubt ought to have been
confiscated, but I could not reconcile myself to the confiscation, which seemed to me very much like vulgar
horse-stealing; and I inwardly determined, if my fellowtravelers designed making a general business of that department of fine art, that I should separate from them,
and journey towards freedom on my own account.
I had quitted Salisbury to obtain liberty, not horses;
and it did not appear that my prospects for the former
would be materially augmented by any acquisition of the
latter. Fortunately, however, there were no more confiscations on the route; and consequently I had no occasion
to put my determination in practice.
That equine appropriation was about the last adventure
we had. At dusk on the evening of January 12, we
set out for Russellville-eighteen miles distant-crossing;
28




428


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Lick Creek, and passing into the corner of Hawkins and
into Granger Counties before four o'clock the following
morning.
We struck the Virginia and East Tennessee Railway at
Cheek's Cross Roads, and walked at a rapid rate to our
camp, where we bivouacked. We learned after dawn that
Ellis's party were safe, and had camped where we were
the night previous. Our guide told me that the coming
night (Friday, January 13th) would probably be the
last we would be out; I truly hoped so. My boots were
worn out; my attire in rags; my nervous system strangely
sensitive, and perhaps deranged, from absence of sleep
and constant exertion, with long fasts and perpetual anxiety. Yet I felt a degree of strength and freshness that
was extraordinary, under the circumstances. I was calm
withal, and unagitated, although freedom seemed so near
at hand. Indeed, the idea of Liberty I could not realize
-it seemed too great a blessing to be enjoyed. I often
asked myself: " Shall I indeed see the dear old flag, and
breathe the free air of the North once more?"
We had nothing throughout Friday but a little corn,
which we parched in the ashes of our camp-fires, until
just before setting out, when we procured the best meal
we had had. The Tennessee scout accompanied us until
we struck the railway again, and there left us, having, as
he said, some important business to transact on the morrow.
Always before, Freedom, as I have said, had seemed too
blissful to be realized; but when I found myself within
one night's march of our glorious destination, I could no
"longer doubt that on the morrow I might plant my foot




UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES.


429


on loyal soil, and again behold the glitter of Union bayonets.
I was filled with a new life: I could not be restrained:
my blood tingled: my pulses leaped: my whole being
glowed.
Rapidly I walked along the broken railway. The
mile-stones seemed to whirl by me as if I were on an
express-train.
The wind was from the North-keen, cutting, penetrating; I loved it because it was from the North-and I still
was very thinly clad.
But I felt not the low temperature: a blast from an iceberg would not have chilled me.
Within me was the sacred fire that has made martyrs
and heroes through ages,-the fire which the love of
Liberty has lighted, and which will burn forever.
My companions, fatigued and exhausted and halffrozen, fell off one by one, and in little squads. But
a single man remained, a tall, stalwart, muscular fellow;
and he declared he would go with me to the end.
On, on, on we went, faster, faster, faster.
The mile-stones still whirled by like ghosts of departed
fears and expired miseries.
Colder and colder blew the wind; but it was more
grateful than breezes from Araby the Blest. The night
was dark and lowering; but to me the heavens were
lighted as with an auroral splendor.
Through the encompassing shadows I fancied visions
of beauty and landscapes of delight. The arid plain
blossomed with association, and the bow of promise
spanned every accomplished mile.




430


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Just before the dawn, the fires of the Union pickets
crimsoned the somber sky in our front, and a few minutes
of hurried striding brought us within the voice of the
challenging sentinel.
" Who comes there'?"-" Friends without the countersign-escaped prisoners from Salisbury," was the answer. "All right, boys; glad to see you," again awoke
the silence; and I walked within the lines that divided
Freedom, Enlightenment, Loyalty, from Slavery, Bigotry,
Treachery; was once more an American citizen, emancipated, regenerated, and disenthralled.
Still from habit I looked to the West, whither the pole
of my spirit so many anxious days had pointed, and I
beheld there, as in the East, the coming dawn, typified
in the dawn of a better and prouder day for the Republic
after its purifying baptism of blood; and saw the star
that all along our toilsome march had beamed toward us
as the harbinger of the glorious to-morrow, when the tide
of War that has swept over the regenerated Nation will
have washed clean as polished amethyst the Slaverystained record of ninety years.
Some weeks after our arrival in the North, we learned
that all kinds of stories were in circulation in the Penitentiary about our escape. One was that a Rebel General had come for us in a carriage, and borne us awayquite after the manner of the good princes in the Fairy
Tales; another, that we had obtained Southern officers'
uniforms and passed the guard; a third, that we had
bribed the sentinels; a fourth, that we had tunneled out;
and I know not how many more, all of them equally untrue.




UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES.


431


As many of those stories came from head-quarters, no
doubt they were believed by the Rebel officers there,
who probably had no correct idea of our mode of exit.
They seemed greatly agitated on the subject, and made
every effort to recapture us; sending out scouts to the
East and West; believing, I presume, that we had gone
directly to Newbern or Morganton.
We lay over the first night-Tuesday-that we got out,
and, on the third night after the commencement of the
march, quitted the railway near Statesville; and to one
of those facts, perhaps, we owe our avoidance of the
scouts, who, however, hardly attempted to travel after
dark, as we did almost constantly.
When the scouts returned to the Penitentiary, after
their unsuccessful search, some of the Rebel officers, both
in Richmond and Salisbury, declared we had been caught,
and sent farther South; while others swore we had been
shot by guerrillas. They seemed very unwilling to admit
that we had gotten through, even after the Richmond
papers had published the fact; and from the tenacity
with which they had held The Tribune Correspondents,
it was natural they should feel a little chagrined that
we were fairly out of their clutches.
With thanks to none but ourselves we did re-obtain
our liberty, making the journey from Salisbury to Knoxville in eighteen traveling days, being the best time on
record by the over-the-mountains-pedestrian-prisoner-line
-one of the least convenient and comfortable routes
while in progress, but the most satisfactory and delightful after its completion, in the known World.




432


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


CHAPTER LV.
THE SOUTH AND THE WAR.
The Popular Idea of the South.-Its Fallaciousness.-Character of the Southerners.-Their Best Society.-Slavery and its Pernicious Influence.-The
Real Cause of the Rebellion.-The Great Revolution in Public Opinion.-Disgraceful History of the Past.-Our National Atonement.
THE popular idea of the South in the North is, or used
to be, rather, as singular as erroneous. The South was
excessively idealized, even in the minds of persons little
troubled with imagination. They believed the country
lying the other side of Mason and Dixon's line, especially the Cotton States, the home of Refinement and
Culture, Beauty and Luxury, Elegance and Ease.
Few Northern travelers had journeyed to or dwelt in
the farther sections of the South; and those who had,
had done so to little purpose, seeing with the eyes of
people among whom they went, rather than with their
own.
Southerners had gasconaded so persistently and perpetually about their sunny homes, their floral fields,
their orange groves, their statue-bordered walks, their
sparkling fountains, and their palatial residences, with
many other highly colored phrases that might have
dropped out of Claude Melnotte's sophomorical description of the Lake of Como, that those who heard and read
what they said, actually believed them literally.




THE SOUTH AND THE WAR.


433


Northerners, living in a region comparatively unfertile,
to be sure, but cultivated and useful, productive and
picturesque far beyond that of their rodomontadic
neighbors, really began to think, even came to the settled conviction, that they were little blessed; that their
school-houses and academies and daily newspapers and
galleries of art went for nothing, brought in juxtaposition with the sandy cotton and unwholesome rice-fields,
the miasmatic marshes and muddy lagunes of the Gulf
States.
They knew there were fine men and lovable women
among the hills of New England and on the prairies of
the great West; but the most exquisite gentlemen and
the most charming ladies must be sought in the Southern
plantations.
Marvelous mistake, extraordinary delusion! The hundreds of thousands of our soldiers who have " invaded"
Dixie have had ample opportunities to undeceive themselves since the War. They have found out, what the
unbiased and observing found out long before, that the
South is a large sham; that the beauty of its scenery,
the generosity of its people, the splendor of its homes,
the luxury of its surroundings, exist only in the imagination; that negroes and indolence, swagger and ignorance, are the poor bits of glass which have assumed such
attractive forms in the kaleidoscope of Fancy.
Of course there are a few genuine gentlemen and ladies
in the South-or were at least, before the War-who are
such in spite, not on account of the peculiar institution;
whom even that great wrong and unnatural condition
have not blunted or brutalized.




434


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


But as for the many, what are they?
Uneducated, coarse, ignorant, vulgar people, who have
no idea of comfort or convenience; but live in wretched
cabins, on pork, corn-bread, and hominy, thanking God
they are not negroes, but having no conception of a
higher or worthier existence.
Even the oligarchs, the privileged few, who hold
slaves, and rule the whites as thoroughly, though in a
different way, as they do their human chattels, have little
to boast of.
They have wealth and education, generally. They
have expanded their area of observation. They have
been in the North, and sometimes in Europe.      They
have learned there is a World outside of plantation
limits and negro quarters. They are as broad, perhaps,
as men can be who are born, and reared, and pass their
lives in the midst of Slavery and its narrowing and
blighting influences.
Yet, their best Civilization is of a medikeval character.
Compared to the free North, they are a half a century
behind the age. They are semi-barbarians. Their generosity is carelessness; their hospitality, vanity; their
frankness a lack of self-discipline; their bravery physical rather than mental, and fostered by a false ~tandard of honor and a pernicious notion of chivalry.
The virtues that appertain to them are the virtues of
an imperfectly developed race, and peculiar to their form
of society. They are self-loving to a degree of morbidity;
amiable and anxious to be agreeable while they are wheedled and flattered; but impatient of contradiction and
restraint, and violent, unjust, and cruel when opposed or




THE SOUTH AND THE WAR.


435


thwarted, even by those they have assumed to regard as
their dearest friends.
They are a little more than intelligent barbarians, the
best of them; nor is it strange, when we reflect that they
are ever exposed to the baleful influences of Slavery.
What can be expected of men who found their ideas
of superiority upon their elevation above an ignorant,
persecuted, servile race, who are in the habit of beating, or seeing beaten, men, women, and children; of indulging their basest passions with the unfortunate females
who dare not oppose their desires; and in whose embraces
they degrade themselves even more than the sable partners
of their lust.
Respecting the mode of living, how unwise they are!
They have profusion, but not propriety; liberality, but
not taste; abundance, but not fineness. Nothing is complete with them. Elegance and fitness are things unknown, and aught like harmony is ignored.
Their dwellings, grounds, furniture, and table show this.
There -is ever somewhat lacking in one place, and somewhat of excess in another. Nothing is finished; nothing
is repaired. The trail of the negro is over them all.
They imbibe all the defects of the slaves, with none of
their virtues. They seem indeed to be ruled, rather than
the ruling race, since they take hue, and tone, and habit,
from their dusky bondsmen. They have their deceitfulness, indolence, animalism, and even their accent.
On them, and their section, the negro is indelibly
stamped, and all their interests, purposes, and performances are made subservient to the peculiar institution. It
is that which has mildewed the South, which has drained




4:36


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


the spirit of progress, and has made her the disloyal,
purblind, violent wrong-doer she long ago became, and
which generated in her the culminating folly and crime
of Secession.
I remember, when the War first broke out, a Virginian
of education and wealth, and a slaveholder in Missouri,
but still a Unionist, who, deprecating the Rebellion, told
me how, in that State, every interest had been made subservient to Slavery.
When the thinking and progressive people wanted
schools, the Pro-Slavery party opposed the:peasure,
because, if they had schools, they must have teachers,
and, teachers must be brought from the Abolition Free
States.
When manufactures were advocated in Missouri, they
were decried, because the operatives must be Northerners, and haters of the peculiar institution.
Railways were unpopular with the men who afterward
blossomed into Secessionists, for the reason that the
roads would furnish facilities to fugitive slaves for
escape.
So, through and for Slavery, every measure for the
development and prosperity of the State was discouraged, misrepresented, and counteracted as far as possible,
and all advocates of reform and advancement denounced
as Abolitionists. The history of Missouri has been the
history of every other Southern State, except that the
feeling of opposition and the determination to stagnancy
have been augmented in the Cotton regions.
Slavery, from the beginning, has been the curse of the
Republic, and the sole cause that threatened its dissolu



THE SOUTH AND THE WAR.


437


tion. It is, and always was, this very War in a state of
suppression. No one need say that the Rebellion has
proved the impracticability of self-government. It has
merely proved that two irreconcilable elements-two
utterly different systems of labor, engendering opposite
customs and conditions of society-must sooner or later
clash, and struggle with each other for the mastery.
All the talk and theories in the Rebel papers about the
difference of race-about the Cavaliers and Puritansin the early settlers of Southern and Northern States, is
the merest gallimatia.    The only difference there is
between the two sections has been made by Slavery.
And as to the War, it was certain to come. Every
possible effort was made to stave it off-as the history of
our compromises-compromises too often of principle
with temporary interest-abundantly shows; but human
endeavor was useless. The cause lay deeper than it was
thought, and could not be reached by public enactments
or plausible harangues.
Our forefathers, for mere expediency, had compromised
with a palpable injustice, a grievous wrong; and we
were compelled to pay the penalty. They, no doubt,
regarded Slavery as a temporary thing, which would be
abrogated in the 'South, as it was in the North, after a
few years.
They did not see-nor could any one then have seenwhat an immense interest cotton would become, through
the invention of the cotton-gin, and how millions of
people would be made insane, by consulting what they
conceived to be their pecuniary advantages.
To Slavery-and it alone-we may justly ascribe all




FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


the calamities of the Nation, all the horrors of this
War.
The loyal people did not perceive this at first; but now
their minds have been illumined by remorselessly logical
events and indubitable facts. Hence they have grown
Abolitionists; not so much, I am sorry to say, out of
their sympathy with the negroes, as out of a cold and
calm consideration that, inasmuch as Slavery generated
the Rebellion, there never can be a permanent peace, so
long as any part of the territory embraced within the
United States is cursed with the power to hold human
beings in bondage. So feeling and believing, they have
determined to have no more of it, and they have done
wisely.
Very useless and idle is it, therefore, to speculate on
the immediate causes of the War.
Mr. Lincoln's election was made the pretext by the
South; but if the advocates of State Rights had not had
that pretext, they would have found another. They had
remained in the Union so long as they held the political
power.
When they lost it-when they saw the progress of the
Anti-Slavery sentiment had been such that they never
could hope to regain what had slipped away from them,
they resolved to destroy the Government they could no
longer control. They tried it, and they have destroyed
-themselves.
What a wonderful revolution has taken place in public
opinion in a few years! Few of my readers, I fancy,
who do not remember when they would have felt grossly
insulted if they had been called "Abolitionists." But,




THE SOUTH AND THE WAR.


439


I opine, there are still fewer at present who are not proud
to know that they are Abolitionists.
That once huge bugbear has lost its power to frighten.
Men are no longer children, to be terrified by a word.
The term of odium has become an expression of praise;
and men of this age and generation will be proud to say,
in the future: " I was an Abolitionist in the days of the
great Rebellion."
The scales have but begun to fall from the eyes of the
people.  They have just commenced to perceive the
anomaly, the anachronism, the enormity and crime of
Slavery. "The land of the free and the home of the
brave," shouted on every possible occasion, for half a
century, and containing the most bitter satire on the institutions of the country, means something at last; and
an American can sing it now without a shame.
Unborn generations will wonder at the fact that the
model Republic, for nearly a century, not only permitted
Slavery, but went down on its knees before the Slave
power, and prayed for a deeper humiliation.
Whose cheek does not tingle when he thinks for how
long a time the North succumbed to the South; how long
its representatives in Congress were insulted, bullied,
and even assaulted, for words spoken in debate; how
long its Press played the sycophant, and groveled in the
dust that the Slave State leaders shook with disgust from
their feet?
No history of a great Nation is more disgraceful than
ours was for the twenty-five years previous to the War.
Thank Heaven! it will never be repeated, and that we
bore all the ignominy and shame to preserve the Repub



440


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


lic and the Constitution as we received them from those
we had been taught to honor as something more than
mortal.
If we were too conservative and reverential, it was
only natural. When the first gun from Sumter sounded,
our false scruples were scattered. We all became iconoclasts.  Right then began to rule over Precedent, and
Justice grew stronger than Authority.
We have atoned for the errors of the Past by the
sacrifices of the Present. We have hidden the fatal
blunder of our ancestors behind the glory of our struggle
for a people degraded and enslaved.
We have lifted the age of romance and chivalry to a
hight it never knew, from the time of Coeur de Lion to
Francis I., by a long, obstinate, unyielding war, not for
an idea only, but for humanity and freedom, for the very
principle that underlies the foundations of our Republic.




THE FUTURE OF THE SOUTH.


441


CHAPTER LVI.
THE FUTURE OF THE SOUTH.
Its Undeveloped Resources.-Its Wealthy Planters and the Northern Farmers.Slave Labor and its Defects.-The Blighting Effect of the Peculiar Institution.
-Contrast between the Free and Slave States.-Occupation of Secessia by
the Yankees.-The Changes Consequent Thereupon.-The Much-Vexed Negro
Question.-The Rights of the Freedman.
IN the preceding chapter, I have spoken of the undeveloped resources of the South; of the uncomfortable
manner of living there; of the lack of accommodation
and  ease among the people; which         all who have
traveled in what has since the War received the name of
Secessia must have observed.
The people were contented enough, with their slender
means and small resources, because they had no higher
ideas of living; because they had not, to any extent,
obtained a loftier standard from communication with the
North.
The prosperous and educated Southerners, having
visited our leading cities and principal watering-places,
of course learned something; and their knowledge was
made apparent by the improved order of architecture
and laying-out of grounds which began to reveal themselves, particularly a few years before the Rebellion.




442


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


Yet, as I have remarked, there was almost always a
lack of completeness and taste, even in the houses of the
wealthiest planters-a kind of barbaric profusion without
fitness, a sort of ostentation, without a just adaptation of
means to the end.
A species of coarseness ran through their mode of
living; and one witnessed,, in the dwellings of the cotton
lords and sugar barons, less genuine comfort and elegance
than could be found in the far less pretentious homes of
New England, New York, or Ohio farmers.
All the labor was performed by negroes, and consequently but half done. No reforms were introduced,
and no changes made. All the improved methods of
agriculture, the new implements, the advantageous innovations of the North, were neglected at the South, and,
where they were known, were regarded 'suspiciously, as
the result of Yankee ideas, and therefore not to be
adopted.
If patent plows, reapers, thrashing-machines, or what
not were introduced at the South, they soon got out
of order, on account of the ignorance of the slaves, and
were of course never repaired.
The South did very little, until compelled by necessity,
to establish manufactures of any kind, because they depended wholly upon the inventive genius and extraordinary energy of the "Yankees."
The South was purely agricultural, and they believed
they could do better by raising cotton, rice, tobacco, and
sugar, than by attempting to make mills, engines, or
locomotives.
They could not summon practical energy enough to




THE FUTURE OF THE SOUTH.


443


furnish for themselves what they needed, and they
lacked the inventive faculty almost altogether.
They had untold wealth at their very doors, in coal,
iron, lead, and other minerals; yet in very few of their
States were the mines worked to any extent.
Whatever passed into their possession seemed affected
by the mildew of Slavery. A splendid carriage, putchased by a planter in the North, would very soon lose
its polish and freshness, very probably a hub, and two
or three spokes; and these would hardly be replaced.
A fine set of harness would soon part company with
some of its buckles, which would be supplied with a
broken twig and a tow string.
A beautiful span of horses, all symmetry, mettle, and
sleekness, would, in a few weeks after exchanging
owners, appear rough, lean, and broken down.
Babiecas would be transformed     into  Rosinantes,
almost as suddenly as Cinderella's mice into prancing
steeds.
A grand piano required but a brief sojourn in a
Southern home, to be deprived of its gloss and its tone,
and mayhap one of its legs.
And so with every thing else. Importation from the
North to the South proved destructive to fine qualities,
material as well as mental.
Unremunerated compulsory labor manifested itself in
every part of the South, in the way of stupidity, blunders, and inexcusable carelessness.
Who that has ever steamed down the river, between
Kentucky and Ohio, needed to be told which State was
free, and which was Slave? On one bank, neat, comfort29




444


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


able dwellings and stirring farms looked across the beautiful river at poor cabins or dilapidated frame tenements,
with uncleared fields, partially tilled, as if they wondered at the unfinished appearance of their opposite
neighbors.
In descending the Mississippi, low, bleak, and barren
are the shores of the mighty stream, with their unvarying
sand and their ghastly cotton-woods! Even after reaching the coast country below Baton Rouge, the muchtalked-of beauty disappoints him sorely. It is an agreeable contrast to what met his eye above, and to that fact
I have always attributed the exaggerated notion of the
delightfulness of the Louisiana coast.
When the Rebellion is crushed; when Slavery no
longer blights the soil of the South; when that section is
settled, as it will be, by a new people, possessed of industry, energy, and perseverance, how metamorphosed
all that region will be!
The "barbarous Yankees" will supersede the chivalrous sons of the Cavaliers, and desert places will blossom
like the rose. The mining and agricultural interests will
be developed to their fullest, and wealth will be poured
into the lap of the new-comers.
Elegant villas, such as adorn the Hudson, will beam
out of handsome groves, and marble fountains will
sparkle where turbid pools have stood poisoning the
atmosphere, and diffusing fever and ague to all the
country round.
Factories, and school-houses, and graceful churches,
will rise where cabins crumbled, and hay-ricks grew
moldy in the pestilential air.




THE FUTURE OF THE SOUTH.


445


The song of cheerful laborers will go gladly up to
Heaven where the dusky Slave bent to his irksome toil
beneath the overseer's lash.
The South, in that not distant future, will be actualized
into the ideal through which it has been seen.
I perceive it now, fruitful and glorious because of its
freedom; gathering the harvest of abundance after its
long period of bondage has passed away forever.
Then, indeed, will it be the sunny South-sunny with
sweet associations and happy memories; beautiful with
peace and benison; grand with its history of an emancipated race and a regenerated Republic.
Very many of us have perplexed ourselves with the
question, so often asked me while a prisoner, What will
we do with the negroes? What will we do with the
Rebels? is the first and most important interrogatory.
That once settled-and it seems rapidly settling-the
other will arrange itself in due season, as do all other
things, by the force of Circumstance and the consequence
of Universal Law.
Nothing, however, let me remark, seems more inconsistent and irrational than the supposition that the
negroes, who have for generations raised the products of
the South, while enslaved, will be unable to do so when
emancipated.
The theory of the necessity for compulsory labor is a
false one.
There is no human creature living, black or white, who
can not work as well, and far better, when free than
when in bonds; when he has the genuine instincts of
manhood in his breast, in place of the haunting and hope



446


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


less conviction of perpetual slavery; when he is cheered
with a golden' future instead of being burdened with a
rayless past.
To declare the contrary is the worst form of doubt, the
darkest shade of disbelief, the repudiation of Nature and
her generous promptings.
Whatever the fate of the Rebels, the land they once
possessed will not be destroyed; and the freedmen can
certainly till, with their unshackled hands, the soil they
have watered with their scalding tears and bloody
sweat.
The experiment will doubtless be tried, and it will be
proved that the yield of rice and tobacco, and sugar and
cotton, under the new system, will be far greater than
under the old and degrading one.
The climate of the South is favorable and congenial to
the negro.  Why should he not remain there if he so
elects?
Let him, in the name of justice and humanity, reap
something of the harvest for which he has suffered and
fought, has bled and died!
The true principle of a free Government is to give
every man a chance, whatever his station or antecedents.
That we will give to the negro, as his right. No bugbear
about negro equality will deter the people from meting
out to the emancipated slave the long-demanded justice of making to him that late atonement for what the
country has compelled him to endure.
The man who fears the African will become his equal,
must have a shuddering conviction within that he merely




COOCLUSION.


1447


needs an opportunity to become such. Away with the
"base apprehension!
The World was given to us all, to do the best work of
which we are capable; to try for its rewards; to make
endeavors for its happiness.
Unworthy and ungenerous is he who asks what he is
unwilling another should have.
Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness, are our
natural rights, the African's as well as the Caucasian's;
and I, for one, welcome the negro on the threshold of
his new career, and bid him God speed in whatever he is
able honestly to obtain!
CONCLUSION.
WHILE this volume has been in press, and the proofsheets have been undergoing revision, the grea t Rebellion
has been hastening to its close, and may now be considered fairly ended. Few weeks in ancient or modern
times have been more eventful, more prolific of History
than those of April and May, 1865.
When the first chapters of this book, which were very
irregularly furnished, were written, the Rebellion still
looked extremely formidable, and caused very grave
doubts whether it might not survive the year, and linger
on until the returning spring; whether thousands of lives




448


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


might not be required for sacrifice upon the altar of the
Republic before the colossal insurrection was completely
crushed.
Thanks to Fortune, those days of darkness and anxiety
and doubt have gone forever. The dawn has come at last.
After that long and fearful night, shaken with tempest,
and pregnant with terror, watched with throbbing hearts
and suspended breath by every loyal American, the sun
of Freedom has re-arisen, and its glory is streaming over
a regenerated Land.
Within a few weeks, Richmond, the key-stone of the
arch of the bastard " Confederacy," has crumbled; Lee,
the head and front of traitorous opposition, has surrendered, and Johnston, and Taylor, and others of less importance, have imitated his example through force of
necessity.
Amid all the radiance of victory there was a sudden
eclipse. In the highest hour of rejoicing a chill was
struck to every gladdened heart.
The Chief of the Nation, the great and good man who
had steadily and conscientiously, and skillfully guided
the Country through the terrible trial of battle, fell a martyr to Freedom by the hand of an assassin, a desperate,
but wretched tool in the hands of his masters in treason
and in crime. He fell, but not an hour too soon for his
glory: his cup of honor was full: his immortality was
determined; and if it had not been, the explosion of the
murderous pistol would have rendered it secure.
While the Republic still weeps, the death of the assassin, and the capture of the arch traitor (Jefferson Davis),
are announced. There seems a destiny in all the closing




CONCLUSION.


449


scenes of the grand drama which for four thrilling years
has kept possession of the American stage, and held all
civilized Nations in painful suspense.
It appears as if no relic of the Rebellion were fated to
escape; as if no part of the vast crime against Nature and
Liberty were to be left unanswered for; as if all the vile
falsehoods of the enemy were to be exposed beyond
capacity to doubt, and his braggart insolence and ridiculous swagger forever humbled in the dust.
What a bitter mortification it must be to the Southerners who for fifty years have filled the air with their
vaporings, and disgusted the World with their assumptions; who have arrogantly claimed superiority of race
and civilization; who have heaped all manner of abuse
upon the Free States and their citizens; to know and feel
that they have been completely defeated, utterly subjugated by the stout hands and brave hearts of the people
they had affected to despise!
Where now is all that rant about the impossibility of
conquering eight millions of free people born on horseback, and destined to rule? Where is the last ditch?
Where are all the men, women, and children who were to
die so delightedly and so melo-dramatically before they
would submit to the "Yankee" yoke?
Tell me, gentle shepherd; tell me where!
Very glad ought we of the loyal North to be, that we
are not Rebels; that we are this day spared the galling
consciousness that we owe our wretched lives to the magnanimity of the Nation we have sought to destroy. I
should think our foes would seek some remote corner of
the world and hide themselves from the public gaze, and




450


FOUR YEARS IN SECESSIA.


from private scorn; that they would beg the earth to
swallow, and the mountains to cover them.
Never was so vast a bubble as that of the pseudo Chivalry pricked before; never was such pompous assumption so effectually extinguished; never was such lofty
arrogance so deeply humiliated. Give the Rebels their
wish at this final hour-all but the prominent leaders-at
least, and leave them alone. If they do not go and hang
themselves-and they wont by any means-they are as
devoid of sensibility and a sense of fitness as they are of
chivalry and shame.
The end of the War has been obtained. The Republic
has fullfilled its destiny. Slavery, the plague-spot upon
the fair body of our Country, is dead, and no trumpet,
though it were an angel's, can awake it to resurrection.
America for the first time is truly free. For the first
time he'r people can sing her national songs without a
blush; and the poorest of her sons can declare: "I am
an American!" with, not uncovered head, but with mein
erect, and a glow of purest satisfaction before the proudest
potentates of the admiring world.


THE END.