Religious Experience--Contraband Assistance--Intelligence of Negroes--Love
of Freedom--Wollam's Recapture--A Friendly Preacher--Obtain
Books--Disgusting Diet--Plays--Debates--Reading Hours--Envy the
Birds--Dreams of Home--Telegraphing--Friends from our Army--Hope
Deferred--Union Society--Difficulties of Tobacco-chewers--Precious Books.
From this time forward, we had religious exercises each morning and
evening, and they were a blessed consolation to us--sustaining our
hearts when every earthly avenue of hope had closed. Frequently we
startled the guards who were around us, by the hymns we sang, for now
the character of our songs was changed, and our thoughts and
aspirations began to point upward. It is a delicate matter to speak of
one's own religious experience, but in the hope of doing good, I will
venture. At first my hopes were not bright. For days and weeks an
impenetrable cloud seemed to rest over me, and to vail heaven from my
view; sometimes for a moment it would give way, and show light and
peace beyond, then close up, thick, and dark, and lowering, as ever.
But at last the day gradually arose, and I was enabled to rejoice in
hopes the world can neither give nor take away.
But these were long and weary days. Our room was of greater size than
that in Chattanooga, and had larger windows, yet the heat was
fearfully oppressive. Our other boys were put in the room with us,
which made fifteen in all. One of them, named Wood, was very sick. He
had been prostrated with the fever for nearly a month, and at this
time his life was despaired of. This was not thought to be any great
misfortune to him by the others, who administered consolation in a
style worthy of the best of Job's friends. They reasoned, "Now, if you
get well, you will only be hung. You had better try to die yourself,
and thus you will outwit them." Wood, however, did not relish the
counsel, and getting contrary, he recovered, "just for spite," as he
often declared. He yet lives to laugh over the advice that his
despairing associates gave him.
We had friends in the waiters of the prison, though their faces were
black. They assisted us by every means in their power. It was not long
till they found that there was nothing we desired so much as to read
the news; and they taxed their ingenuity to gratify us. They would
wait till the jailor or some of the guard had finished reading a
paper, and laid it down, and then slyly purloin it. When meal time
came, it would be put into the bottom of the pan in which our food was
brought, and thus handed in to us. The paper had to be returned in the
same way, to avoid suspicion.[5] The guards and officers would talk
with us, and always finding us possessed of a knowledge of the events
of the war, at least as far as the Southern papers gave it, came at
last to think we had an instinctive idea of news--something like what
the bee has of geometrical forms! They never suspected the negroes,
though for several months it was only through their instrumentality
that we could obtain any definite information of what was going on in
the world without.
[5] In one of these papers I noticed a description of two Federal
officers who had escaped from Macon, Georgia. It was Captain Geer,
with whom I have lectured in several places since my return, and his
comrade, Lieutenant Collins. Their adventures are recorded in a book
called "_Beyond the Lines_."
Having found the negroes thus intelligent and useful, far beyond what
I had supposed possible, I questioned them about other matters. They
were better informed than I had given them credit for, and knew enough
to disbelieve all the stories rebels told. When the whites were not
present, they laughed at the grand victories the papers were
publishing every day, but rather leaned to the opposite extreme, and
gave them less credit than was their due, for they would believe that
the Federal troops were always victorious. Even after McClellan's
repulse before Richmond, they continued, for weeks, to assure us that
he had the town, and had beaten the rebels in every engagement!
They imagined that all the Northern troops were chivalrous soldiers,
fighting for the universal rights of man, and, of course, they
esteemed it a high privilege to contribute to the comfort of such
noble men. Some of them had imbibed the idea, which is common with the
poor whites of the South, that Lincoln is a negro or a mulatto; but
most of them placed so little credit in the assertions of their
masters, that they disbelieved this story also. But they never wavered
in their belief that the Union troops would conquer, and that the
result of the victory would be their freedom. I had extensive
opportunities for observing them, as the room next to us was
appropriated to the safe-keeping of negroes, and I never yet saw one
who did not cherish an ardent desire for freedom, and wish and long
for the time when the triumph of the national forces would place the
coveted boon within his grasp.
One morning our jailor came to our room, and asked us if we knew John
Wollam. We hesitated to answer, as we could not fathom the motives of
the inquiry. But even while we deliberated among ourselves, John came
up, and ended our doubts by greeting us heartily. He had been parted
from us some three weeks, and in that time had suffered most
incredible hardships in the manner I have narrated before. He joined
us in our prayer-meeting with much good will. Now all the survivors of
our party were together again.
There is one Georgia minister I will always remember with gratitude,
not that he was a Union man, for I have no evidence that he was, but
because of his generosity to us. He was a Methodist clergyman in
Atlanta, by the name of McDonnell. He came to visit us at the
suggestion of our old jailor, who, seeing us engaged in religious
exercises, naturally supposed we would like to talk with a preacher.
We received him kindly, and an interesting conversation took place.
Some of the boys were slightly offended by his first prayer, in which
he petitioned that our lives might be spared, if consistent with the
_interests of the Confederacy_. We did not very well like the
condition, but said nothing, and were afterward rewarded for our
complacency. At my request, he loaned us a few books, and when these
were read through, gave us still others, until we had read nearly his
entire library. Those only who know what a terrible weariness it is to
pass time without any definite employment, and with no means of
relieving the hours that hang so heavily on their hands, or of
diverting their thoughts from the one never-ending round, can form any
idea of the great boon that a few good books bestowed on us.
Our provision here became worse and less, until it very nearly reached
the starvation point. For some months, the only food we received was a
very short allowance of corn-bread, baked with all the bran in it, and
without salt, with a little pork, mostly spoiled! Frequently the pork
would be completely covered with maggots, and disgusting as it was,
hunger compelled us to eat it! Even then, there was not enough of this
miserable fare to satisfy our appetites! What would those who spend
their time in denouncing our government as the only enemy, and
sympathize with "our mistaken Southern brethren," who have been
alienated by the misconduct of the loyal States, say, if these
"brethren" had subjected them to the same treatment. Their sympathies
would hardly have survived the trial.
Dreary as the days were here, yet we did not surrender ourselves to
gloomy forebodings and vain lamentings over our misfortunes. Although
the fate of our companions seemed suspended over our heads by a single
hair, yet we shunned despondency, and labored to provide such
amusements as would relieve us of the heavy tedium of our prison-life.
On that terrible day of execution, we threw away our cards, which
before had been played almost day and night, and resolved to engage no
more in that game. But the necessity of doing something prompted us to
search for new pastimes. We carved a checker-board on the floor, and
it was occupied from morning till evening by eager players. We all
became very expert in checkers. To provide a more intellectual
amusement, we also formed a debating society, and spent hour after
hour in discussing quaint questions of every kind. Many were the
long-winded speeches that were made, for time was no object; and if no
one was convinced of a new position, we still had the consolation of
knowing that there was no lost labor, where the labor itself was a
pleasure.
In order to enjoy to the fullest extent the books we had so
fortunately procured, we appointed regular reading hours--two in the
forenoon, and the same in the afternoon. During this time, no one was
allowed even to whisper. Some of our boys were a little wild and
restless at times, and would break the rules; but generally our order
was excellent. We gained much useful knowledge during these hours of
intellectual employment in our novel school.
But all our efforts to pleasantly while away those terribly long
summer days were in vain. The tediousness, and oppressiveness, and
vain longing for action, would press down on us closer and closer.
Brown, who was one of the most restless of mortals, would amuse
himself, as long as he could endure it, at the pastimes we had
devised, then suddenly cease playing, and commence pacing the floor
like a caged bear; when this, too, grew unendurable, he would stop at
the door, and say, in the most piteous tones (of course meant only for
us to hear) "O! kind sir, please let me out!" The feeling he expressed
was shared by all. Never before could I realize the full value of
liberty, and the horror of confinement. Even in the prisons where we
had hitherto been, the novelty of our situation, the frequency of our
removals, and the bustle and excitement of the trial, prevented the
blank monotony of imprisonment from settling down on us as it did
here, when the first few weeks had rolled by, and no intimations of
our fate reached us. It was like the stillness and the death that
brood over the Dead Sea.
We would sit at the windows, in the sultry noon, and look out through
the bars, at the free birds as they flew past, seemingly so merry and
full of joyous life, and foolishly wish that we, too, were birds, that
we might fly away, and be at peace.
At long intervals, two of us would be permitted to go down into the
yard, to do our washing. One day it came my turn; it was then three
months since I had stepped out of my room, and the unobscured vision
of open air and sky made it seem like another world. I remember
looking up at the snowy clouds, my eyes almost dazzled by the unusual
light, and wondering, as I gazed on their beautiful and changing
forms, whether beyond them lay a world of rest, in which were neither
wars nor prisons. And with the thought came the fear that if I was
once more permitted to mingle as a free man, away from the immediate
pressure of danger, with the busy throng of life, I would forget my
prison-made vows, and thus lose my claim to a world of never-fading
light. Such a sense of weakness and helplessness came over me, that it
was with a feeling almost of relief that I returned once more to my
dark and narrow room, where the contrast between freedom and bondage
was less palpably forced on my view.
All this time we hardly permitted ourselves to indulge a hope of ever
getting home again. The friends we once knew in happier days, seemed
separated from us by an impassable gulf; and when our minds would call
up before us the scenes and loved ones of home, it was like treading
on forbidden ground. But when the miseries of the day were passed, and
we were wrapped in that sweet slumber that ever visits the weary alike
in prison and palace, there was no longer any restraint, and we were
once more at home--once more in the enjoyment of love and freedom.
Often have I seen in dreams the streets and buildings of my own town
rise before me, and have felt a thrilling pleasure in contemplating
them, as I wended my way towards the sacred precincts for ever
hallowed by affection. But the waking from these incursions into the
realms of paradise was sad beyond measure, and the cold, bare walls
of prison never looked half so dreary, as when seen in contrast with
the visions which had just been dispersed by the morning light.
An anecdote here will fitly illustrate the affection and exaggerated
reverence we felt for what we, to the great annoyance of the guards
and citizens, insisted on calling "God's country." I had been reading
one of Bascom's sermons, from a book which the minister had loaned us,
on "The Joys of Heaven." All listened to his magnificent description
with the greatest of interest, and when it was finished, some one
started the query as to whether they would rather be in heaven, safe
from all harm, or in Cincinnati. After a debate which was conducted
with great animation on both sides, the majority concluded, no doubt
honestly, that they would rather be in Cincinnati--for a while, at
least!
In order to keep thoroughly posted, we opened communications to every
room in the prison. Those on the other side of the entry, we reached
by means of a small stick, attached to a string, and thrown under the
door. There was a chimney came up between our room and the other on
the same side of the entry; each of our stove-pipes led into this
chimney at points directly opposite, and by taking off the pipes, we
could talk through, but there was danger of being overheard. To
obviate this, we split a long lath off the side of our room, in such a
way as to be able to take it down and put it up at pleasure. This we
used for passing notes backward and forward through this concealed
passage, and it became very useful when we afterward contemplated an
escape.
One morning the guard brought up some prisoners, and as soon as they
had retired, we resorted to our usual method of telegraphing, to
ascertain their character. To our great surprise and pleasure, we
found that two of them were from the Tenth Wisconsin, a regiment in
our own brigade. They told us that we had long since been given up for
dead,[6] and that our comrades were vowing vengeance for our murder.
They were quite surprised to find so many of us still alive. The other
two were regulars, who had been captured on the coast of Florida.
These soldiers remained with us till we were taken to Richmond. From
them we gained a complete detail of the movements of our army since
we had left it.
[6] All our friends at home believed we were executed. My obituary
notice was published in our county paper, and the Rev. Alexander Clark
was invited to preach my funeral sermon, which providential
circumstances alone prevented.
One of the hardest things we had to endure was the rejoicing that
accompanied McClellan's flight from Richmond. Before this occurrence,
the secessionists were down-spirited and despairing; but afterward
they were jubilant. About the last of May, a prominent officer said to
me: "Any other officer of yours but McClellan, would now take
Richmond, for we have not men enough at present to offer successful
resistance; but _he_ will fortify each step of his way, and lay grand
plans, and thus delay until we can raise men enough by the conscript
law to defeat him." I did not then think that his prediction would be
verified, and hoped that McClellan would show that he was not delaying
for nothing; but when I heard of the precipitate retreat to Harrison's
Landing, I was ready to confess that the Confederate officer had been
more penetrating in his views than myself. From this moment, the tide
of victory seemed to set to the southward side, with a still deeper
and stronger flow, till the next spring, when it returned again.
I can preserve no order of time in relating the events of these
tedious mouths, which slowly rolled away their ponderous length. It
was almost a perfect isolation from the world, with little hope of
ever again mingling in its busy throng. As each month closed, we were
startled by the thought we were still alive--that the bolt had not yet
descended--and we surmised and wondered how much longer it could be
delayed. At last a small ray of hope began to arise--very feeble at
first--based on the long and incomprehensible reprieve we were
enjoying. As week after week glided tediously away, marked only by the
monotony which is more wearying to heart and frame than the most
severe anguish, this hope grew stronger; yet still so little assured
that the most trifling circumstance, such as strengthening the guard,
or a visit from the officers, was sufficient to blast the hopes we
were beginning so fondly to cherish.
I saw many instances of the iron rule with which the Southern Union
men are kept in subjection. The strictest espionage was maintained
through every order of society. The spies of the government would
pretend to be Union men, and thus worm themselves into loyal
societies; and when they had learned the names of the members, would
denounce them to the government. It was not necessary to be particular
about truth, as the suspicion of guilt, in their mode of procedure,
was just as good as its positive evidence. One day seventy men and
twelve women were arrested, and sent in irons to Richmond! Many other
instances of this remorseless tyranny will be given hereafter.
Most of our boys were tobacco-chewers, and were driven to numberless
expedients to obtain that which some of them declared they valued more
than their daily food. There were several articles of which the rebels
had not seen fit to rob us, such as handkerchiefs and a few vests;
These were now sold to the surrounding guards. Andrews had given
Hawkins a very large, fine coat, and as there seemed to be no prospect
of taking it home, he sold it to the jailor, and invested the proceeds
in tobacco, apples, &c., which he generously divided among his
comrades.
I wanted books more than anything else, and sold my vest and a
pocket-book the rebels had left when they took what was in it, and
bought three books--all gems--"Paradise Lost," "Pilgrim's Progress,"
and "Pollock's Course of Time." These I nearly committed to memory. It
was a profitable employment, while I am sure it very much lightened
and shortened these interminable days.