"Out in the middle of the turbulent river James lay Belle Isle Prison
surrounded by its stockade. In the city of Richmond, at the foot of
Church Street, almost at Betty Van Lew's door, was the Libby, with its
grim, gray walls; only a stone's throw farther away were Castle
Lightning on the north side of Cary Street, and Castle Thunder on the
south side. In July of 1861 the battle of Bull Run was fought, and the
Confederate army defeated and put to flight by the Union soldiers. The
Libby, Belle Isle and Castle Thunder all were overflowing with scarred
and suffering human beings,--with sick men, wounded men, dying men,
and Northern prisoners." Here was work to do!
Down the aisles of the hastily converted hospitals and into dim prison
cells came almost daily a little woman with a big smile, always with
her hands full of flowers or delicacies, a basket swinging from her
arm. As she walked she hummed tuneless airs, and her expression was
such a dazed and meaningless one that the prison guards and other
soldiers paid little heed to the coming and going of "Crazy Bet," as
she was called. "Mis' Van Lew--poor creature, she's lost her balance
since the war broke out. She'll do no harm to the poor boys, and maybe
a bit of comfortin'. A permit? Oh yes, signed by General Winder
himself,--let her be!" Such was the verdict passed from sentry-guard
to sentry in regard to "Crazy Bet," who wandered on at will, humming
her ditties and ministering to whom she would.
One day a cautious guard noticed a strange dish she carried into the
prison. It was an old French platter, with double bottom, in which
water was supposed to be placed to keep the food on the platter hot.
The dish roused the guard's suspicions, and to a near-by soldier he
muttered something about it. Apparently unheeding him, "Crazy Bet"
passed on beyond the grim, gray walls, carrying her platter, but she
had heard his words. Two days later she came to the prison door again
with the strange dish in her hand wrapped in a shawl. The sentry on
guard stopped her.
"I will have to examine that," he said.
"Take it!" she said, hastily unwrapping it and dropping it into his
hands. It contained no secret message that day, as it had before--only
water scalding hot, and the guard dropped it with a howl of pain, and
turned away to nurse his burned hands, while "Crazy Bet" went into the
prison smiling a broad and meaningless smile.
Well did the Spy play her rôle, as months went by; more loudly she
hummed, more vacantly she smiled, and more diligently she worked to
obtain information regarding the number and placing of Confederate
troops, which information she sent on at once to Federal headquarters.
Day by day she worked, daring loss of life, and spending her entire
fortune for the sake of the cause which was dearer to her than a good
name or riches--the preservation of the Union and the abolishing of
slavery.
From the windows of the Libby, and from Belle Isle, the prisoners
could see passing troops and supply-trains and give shrewd guesses at
their strength and destination, making their conjectures from the
roads by which they saw the Confederates leave the town. Also they
often heard scraps of conversations between surgeons or prison guards,
which they hoarded like so much gold, to pass on to "Crazy Bet," and
so repay her kindness and her lavish generosity, which was as sincere
as her underlying motive was genuine. Meals at the Van Lew mansion
grew less and less bountiful, even meager,--not one article did either
Elizabeth Van Lew or her loyal mother buy for themselves, but spent
their ample fortune without stint on the sick and imprisoned in their
city, while there was never an hour of her time that the Federal Spy
gave to her own concerns. If there was nothing else to be done, she
was writing a home letter for some heart-sick prisoner from the North,
and secretly carrying it past the censors to be sure that it should
reach the anxious family eagerly awaiting news of a loved one.
"Crazy Bet" loaned many books to the prisoners, which were returned
with a word or sentence or a page number faintly underlined here and
there. In the privacy of her own room, the Spy would piece them
together and read some important bit of news which she instantly sent
to Federal headquarters by special messenger, as she had ceased using
the mails in the early stages of the war. Or a friendly little note
would be handed her with its hidden meaning impossible to decipher
except by one who knew the code. Important messages were carried back
and forth in her baskets of fruit and flowers in a way that would have
been dangerous had not "Crazy Bet" established such a reputation for
harmless kindness. She had even won over Lieutenant Todd, brother of
Mrs. Lincoln, who was in charge of the Libby, by the personal
offerings she brought him of delectable buttermilk and gingerbread.
Clever Bet!
So well did she play her part now, and with such assurance, that she
would sometimes stop a stranger on the street and begin a heated
argument in favor of the Union, while the person who did not know her
looked on the outspoken little woman with a mixture of admiration and
contempt. At that time her lifelong persecution, by those who had
before been her loyal friends, began. Where before she had been met
with friendly bows and smiles, there were now averted glances or open
insults. She encountered dislike, even hatred, on every side, but at
that time it mattered little to her, for her heart and mind were
occupied with bigger problems.
What she did mind was that from time to time her permit to visit the
hospitals and prisons was taken away, and she was obliged to use all
the diplomacy of which she was mistress, to win it back again from
either General Winder or the Secretary of War. At one time the press
and people became so incensed against the Northern prisoners that no
one was allowed to visit the prisons or do anything for their relief.
Among the clippings found among Betty Van Lew's papers is this: