The gallant Morgan has said that our independence is an achieved fact.
“Privation and suffering have won it.” It is true that the noble
South has been deprived of many of its wonted necessaries, not to say
luxuries, by the present invasion of those disciples of Satan, commonly
called “Yankees.” Paper, among other things, is scarce in the South,
and paper may be turned into excellent account in the composition of
cartridges, while metal that might be moulded into bullets is run
into type. Yet newspapers and books are printed, and most of them
eagerly read, especially any that have the most remote bearing upon the
present contest. In these stern times of war’s realities, plain facts
challenge our attention rather than the gaudy fiction of novels. Honey
from Mount Hybla, or Nectar from Olympus, would fail on the palate,
unless relieved by homelier viands; and it would certainly require
considerable stoicism to sit down to a tale of imaginary woes and
sorrows while one great wail is going up from our sick and wounded—an
incredible amount of apathy to sit leisurely down to such a book under
the shade of a tree while the nation is sending out a heartcry for
reinforcements to our brave legions, in order to _speedily_ defeat the
unscrupulous enemy. This little book is intended as, and professes no
more than a plain statement of facts, so that others may learn what I
have read, seen and heard, without undergoing the pain of incarceration
in the hands of Yankees, whose tyranny increases in proportion to the
power they possess over their victims.
EXPERIENCE
OF A
CONFEDERATE STATES PRISONER.
_May, 1862._ A “heavy march” on the 6th and 7th instant resulted in
a Confederate victory at McDowell, Highland county, at which place
a battle was fought on the 8th. General Jackson routed and drove
the enemy, commanded by the Yankee Generals, Milroy and Schenck,
twenty-five miles into Pendleton county, and captured a large amount
of ammunition, commissary stores, arms, and many prisoners. Our
forces afterwards completely routed Banks’ column at Winchester,
and thoroughly defeated Fremont and Shields at Cross Keyes and Port
Republic. After the battle at Front Royal, I remained at that place
upon the recommendation of the regimental surgeon, on account of
having strong symptoms of the Typhoid fever, which turned out to be
the genuine disease. Dr. Brown, the resident physician, attended me;
and a member of my own company, Mr. Oxford, nursed me faithfully from
the 23d May, the day our forces entered Front Royal, to the 30th May,
the day that the Yankees under General Shields recaptured it. The 12th
Georgia regiment was the only force left at Front Royal. The Provost
Marshal, or the Colonel commanding the 12th Georgia, gave us notice
but _one hour_ before the Yankees were in the town that they were
advancing. When Mr. Oxford informed me of the near approach of the
Yankees, I quickly jumped out of bed, and we hastily made a retreat
towards Winchester. The salutary and kind attentions of Dr. Brown and
Mr. Oxford had much improved me in strength, but I soon discovered
that I could not keep pace with the latter in our eager efforts to
escape. We succeeded in getting about one mile and a half from the
town when the Yankee cavalry were heard closing on us so fast that we
leaped over a fence on the left of the road, thinking that we might
conceal ourselves in the high grass until the cavalry passed, and
be enabled to elude them by getting into the woods near by. In the
confusion, however, Mr. Oxford and I became separated, and by this time
the Yankee cavalry were close enough to fire twice on myself and two
others from the 33d Virginia, who attempted to make their escape in
the same direction. The cavalry soon after had surrounded us, and we
were compelled to surrender, and were marched into town under a heavy
guard. The commissioned officers were carried before General Shields,
and the non-commissioned officers and privates to the building used by
our army as a hospital, where we had some hundred sick at the time.
The commissioned officers at first confined to any house they might
select, were afterwards paroled the town. I was taken to Mr. John B.
Petty’s house, and ordered to remain there “for the present” by one of
General Shields’ staff. About an hour after I was left at the above
named house, a Pennsylvania Major came into the room where I was, and
very abruptly asked me, “What are you doing here?” I informed him
that by order of General Shields I was to remain there “until further
orders;” he would not believe me, and placed _two_ sentinels in the
room until he found that my statement was correct. Captain Keogh (on
General Shields’ staff) gave me the following note, saying, when he
did so, that I would not be “any further annoyed by officers in other
regiments” that had nothing to do with my case:
“HEADQUARTERS, SHIELDS’ DIVISION, MAY 30, 1862.
“Captain W. is allowed to remain at the house of Mr. John B. Petty
(until further arrangements are made,) the said Captain W. being a
prisoner of war. By order of Major General Shields.
MILES W. KEOGH,
_Ass’t Adj._”
After the lapse of two days I was allowed the limits of the town,
but being sick I did not go out of the house for five days after I
was captured, when I walked down to the barbers’ shop. While passing
the hotel I was called by a Federal officer, whose name I learned
afterwards was General Duryea, of New York. I went into his room,
around which were sitting several other Federal officers, and the
General addressed me, “What are you doing walking about the streets?
Are you not a Southern officer?” I replied “I am,” and told him that
Major Shedd, the Provost Marshal, had paroled me the town. General
Duryea then said, “I understand, sir, that when the Rhode Island
cavalry had you in their power, and could have killed you, that as
one of the cavalry dismounted to take your sword, and was proceeding
to mount again, you fired your pistol twice at the back of his neck.”
I replied such could not be true, for I had no pistol about me when
captured. General Duryea then said, “I may be mistaken, but I wish
to find out what Captain it was, and visit the proper vengeance upon
him.” The day before the Yankees entered Front Royal, a colored man
died of small pox in a small frame house near the railroad depot, and
by general consent of both citizens and the Yankee paroled prisoners
in the town, it was agreed as advisable to burn the house and body, in
order to prevent the spread of the dangerous and contagious disease.
The Yankees were told by some traitor, or else themselves originated
the lie, that we had burned up two of the Yankee prisoners in our
hands, and they swore vengeance against us—declared that they intended
to “put the town in ashes,” and nothing but a special order of General
Shields to the contrary, and forbidding interference with any property
whatever, prevented the soldiers from giving vent to spleen engendered
by a false and malicious report. General Shields was informed by Major
Collins, (Vermont cavalry,) in my presence, that while a prisoner
in our hands he was treated most kindly, and that all reports to
the contrary had no foundation in truth; and all the other Federal
prisoners endorsed the statement of Major Collins.
_June 6th._ We have been told from day to day that all “General
Jackson’s men” would be paroled until exchanged, and yet at the same
time preparations are being made to take us to Washington, _i. e._,
about nineteen officers, and one hundred and fifty non-commissioned
officers and privates. The kindness of the people of Front Royal,
and especially the ladies to the Confederate prisoners, deserves the
highest praise. Devoted to our cause, they omit no opportunity to show
their regard for those who are endeavoring to rescue them from the
obnoxious presence and depredations of the Yankees. They keep aloof
from the Yankees as much as possible, and are always on the alert to do
something for the relief of our sick and wounded.
_June 7th._ Among the Yankees I made the acquaintance of Adjutant
Griffin, 5th New York cavalry, who treated me kindly, as also Captain
Abraham Moore, Captain Isaac S. Tichenor, and Major Shedd, 105th New
York regiment, and Lieutenant H. Hobert Mason, of General McDowell’s
staff. Met with the celebrated Miss “Bell Boyd” to-day. Miss B. is
a sprightly, intelligent lady, _au fait_ in all the movements of
our army, and moderately good looking. Her general information, and
nonchalant mode of fluent conversation, renders her _tout ensemble_
quite interesting. _It is said_ she has obtained valuable information
from Yankee officers in regard to their movements, and conveyed the
same to our army. A great many soldiers talk to me every day, and they
all so far have expressed themselves tired of the war, but say that it
will soon be ended, inasmuch as they have General Jackson “in a trap,”
out of which he cannot escape. They say “Stonewall” is our greatest
General—incomparably so—that he is cunning and strategic, but that it
is not within the range of human possibility for him “to elude us this
time;” that they would like to capture him, but under no consideration
would they kill either him or Ashby if they knew it.
_June 8th._ They say we are to be sent to Washington city on to-morrow,
but we have been told so many things that have failed to come to pass,
that we are too reluctant to believe any more reports. _Nous verron_,
to-morrow. Mr. and Mrs. Petty have been untiring in their attentions
to the sick and wounded prisoners here. They will never be forgotten
by those who have been the recipients of their kindness, especially
those who had the fortune to be under their roof. Mr. P. has been made
to pay the Yankees a heavy penalty on account of being “Secesh;” they
have stolen three of his most valuable negroes, any number of horses,
cattle, &c., besides laying waste his two farms. One of his negro men
left him one day, and the next time he saw him the negro was dressed
in the cavalry uniform, with a sabre hanging to his side, and passed
his master with silent contempt on the street. The negro was now a
member of the “Michigan cavalry,” a company notorious for its success
in robbery and plunder of every description. This same negro visited
Mr. Petty’s house afterwards in company with three Yankee officers, and
demanded of Mrs. Petty (Mr. P. was absent) the key to the wine room;
Mrs. P. told them that she had only a few bottles of wine, which she
kept for medicinal purposes, and requested them not to disturb it, but
the negro persisted with threats in having it, and told Mrs. P. “she
lied” in saying she only had a few bottles. Having obtained all the
wine in the house, by frightening this excellent lady they drank it in
her presence, when they smashed the bottles on the floor, exclaiming,
“the damned Secesh don’t deserve to have anything.”
_Monday, June 9th._ To-day the prisoners were put on the cars to be
taken to Washington city. A lady gave one of the prisoners a boquet
with a small Confederate flag attached, which, as he was about to get
into the cars, was noticed by General Duryea, of New York, and as soon
as the latter saw it he quickly severed the flag from the boquet, and
with an air of contempt and triumph tore it into fragments, at the
same time trampling each fragment under his feet. The people of Front
Royal manifest the greatest interest in the Confederate prisoners.
They carry provisions to them daily at the hospital, while those
prisoners who are paroled are invited to their houses. It would seem
that interest would sometimes prompt them to court Yankee favor,
but they spurn it, and remain loyal and true in their deportment at
the sacrifice of thousands of dollars worth of property, for Yankee
regiments camp on the wheat fields, and steal the horses and negroes,
and kill the hogs, and commit every sort of depredation upon the
property of those who are known to be Secessionists. The ladies avoid
the Yankees whenever they can, and when thrown into their presence,
treat them with that reserve with which they might be expected to
treat those whom they regard as the deadly enemies of their dearest
friends and interest, but whose presence they cannot avoid. The people
seemed sad when the prisoners left Front Royal; the ladies filled their
haversacks with refreshments, and loaded the cars with flowers.
_June 10th._ We arrived at Alexandria at 2 o’clock this morning—saw the
depot which was burned by the bold General Geary, when he _imagined_
that he saw 50,000 rebels advancing on him, when, in fact, the rebels
were no where near him. The 104th New York regiment in their fright
burned up everything they had. A fellow prisoner informs me that he
was lately a prisoner in the hands of Geary, who had him hand-cuffed,
and kept him without food for four days, and that he led his command
to believe, by repeated assurances, that Richmond was in possession of
the Federal army. At daybreak this morning a crowd assembled around the
cars, and many were eager to talk with us, but were not permitted to do
so. Nor were our friends allowed to give us anything to eat, although
they had provided various refreshments, and although the Yankees had
furnished us nothing to eat since yesterday morning, or it may be said
with nothing at all, for what we eat _then_ was given by the people at
Front Royal. At 7 o’clock in the morning the crowd became very great,
and the guards were increased in proportion. The ladies could not
be prevented from kissing their hands to the prisoners. A young man
attempted to throw an orange in the cars for a lady, who requested him
to do so, but he was contemptuously thrust aside, and had to leave in
“double quick” time. Our friends had provided for us coffee, bread and
butter, ham, eggs, cakes, pies, candies in variety, and tobacco and
cigars in profusion, but like the thirsty Tantalus, and the water we
were almost in reach, without being able to enjoy them. Boquets were
thrown in showers into the cars, while there was the greatest demand
for our buttons. Some cut all the buttons off their coats, and then
could not gratify all who requested to be given “one.” This scene, and
the sympathy manifested for our cause by so many Alexandrians, made us
feel happy, while at the same time we were sad in knowing that they
were then writhing under the heel of Lincoln despotism. The Yankee
soldiers seemed to envy the attentions sought to be lavished upon the
prisoners by the people of Alexandria; some cursed us, some shook the
United States flag in our faces, &c. One fellow remarked, “If the
11th Massachusetts was in those cars, you would not get to Washington
city.” Others vented their spleen by insulting remarks to the ladies.
We arrived at Washington at 12, M., having started from Alexandria in
a steamboat about 11. We were then marched in two ranks (with a strong
guard of infantry on either side and rear, and a display of cavalry in
front) to the “old capitol military prison.” We were very wet when we
arrived at the latter place, on account of the rain which commenced
before we left the steamboat, but were compelled to stand out in the
yard from 12, M., to 5, P.M., when we were assigned our quarters.
The room in which seven officers and myself were confined was about
twelve feet square. My prison companions are Captain Samuel M. Sommers,
quartermaster, Lieutenants Chas. E. Bott and John F. Everly, 33d
Virginia regiment, and Lieutenant James K. Decrow, Newton T. Johnston,
James M. Brown, and Edward Waterman, of the 12th Georgia regiment. Roll
was called to-night, and our names, rank, regiment, company letter,
and State, taken in full. Our door is locked all the time, except when
officers come in, or when we are allowed to go into the yard an half
hour for exercise.
_June 11th._ The superintendent of this prison is William P. Wood, and
the officers in command Captain Benjamin Higgins, and Lieutenants J.
Miller and —— Holmes. Mr. Wood is an infidel, who so far from blushing
to proclaim it, takes frequent occasion to do so. When endeavoring to
enforce his doctrines, he addresses his opponent as “You mullet-headed
Christian,” and speaks in the greatest derision of our Saviour, while
he denies the existence of a God, or hell. He is a sharp-featured,
serpentine-looking specimen of humanity, medium height, and by trade
a cabinet maker, before his black republican proclivities secured him
his present position. Mr. Wood, a prisoner, soon finds out to be the
most important among “the powers that be” connected with the prison,
and all “privileges” must be reached through him. He professes to be
a great Southern man, and sometimes demonstrates this by knocking
down a contraband, who does not wait upon him in accordance with his
fastidious notions.
It is cloudy, and my close confinement, together with the continual
sight of dark blue uniforms makes me feel as gloomy as the sky is
in appearance. I would that I could be with our army in the “Old
Dominion.” From my prison window I see an old United States soldier
cultivating flowers in a row of flower pots. One knows him to be a
soldier by his regular walk, and the style of his grey moustache, not
to speak of his uniform. Indeed one might have guessed as much from the
care he takes of his little garden, for there are two things I have
noticed especially, loved by old soldiers, viz: flowers and children.
They have so long been obliged to look upon the earth as a field of
battle, and so long cut off from the peaceful pleasures of a quiet lot,
that they seem to begin life at an age when others end it.
_June 12th._ Have been here a day and a half and two nights, and can
form some idea of the way things are managed at this prison. Roll is
called night and morning, and as to fare, we are allowed a tin cup
of what is called coffee, but which is really mock-coffee, a slice
of bread six inches long, five inches wide, and a quarter of an inch
thick, and a piece of beef or fat bacon twice a day—forming a repast,
the sight of which is almost enough to cause any respectable stomach to
revolt, so unclean seems both it and its surroundings. A lady came into
our room to-day leaning on the arm of Dr. Stewart, the prison surgeon.
As the Doctor ushered her in, he remarked, “This is the room in which
Mrs. Rose O. N. Greenhow was confined.” Lieutenant D., of the 12th
Georgia regiment, was lying on a blanket in one corner of the room, and
the lady seemed to recognise him, and asked “What’s your name?” “Are
you from Georgia?” Being answered promptly by the Lieutenant, and in
the affirmative as to the latter question, the surgeon observed, “You
have a remarkable recollection of faces,” and they left the room, which
was then quickly locked. It is supposed that she is the correspondent
of some Northern journal. No doubt she will say that we live in a
palace, and have hotel fare, thus emulating the editor of the “Evening
Star,” who a short time ago informed its readers that we “fared equal
to any hotel in the city.” If a sentinel is caught in conversation with
a prisoner, the punishment is two weeks in chains. The prisoners are
allowed an half hour in the yard after each meal. After dinner to-day,
the surgeon, Dr. Stewart, a coarse, vulgar mean Yankee came among us in
the yard, and had the audacity to say, “All who desire to take the oath
of allegiance to the United States Government, and thereby obtain their
liberty step this way.” A deserter and two men of Northern birth obeyed
the call. I am informed by prisoners, who have been here sometime, that
the greatest effort is constantly made to induce prisoners to take the
infamous “oath of allegiance.” At roll call to-night I was informed
that “several friends” called to see me. I was not told who the friends
are, and I infer that they do not intend to tell me, or allow me to see
them at all.
_Friday, June 13th._ Among the prisoners confined here, is Charles C.
Randolph, Esq., a venerable looking old gentleman, seventy-five years
of age, from Fauquier county, Virginia. He served in the war of 1812
as Captain, under General Parks’ command, and received his commission
through the influence of the celebrated “Harry Lightfoot Lee,” of the
revolution. He says that he went to Richmond about the first of April
last, and when he returned to his home he found that the Yankees had
devastated everything about his valuable premises. They stole his
horses, sheep and cattle, and destroyed his crops, and took everything
of value he had from a library worth $5,000, to his bed, and even his
wife’s likeness, and the family bible, besides breaking all the hinges
of the doors, and committing waste and robbery generally. He, himself,
was arrested as soon as he arrived home, and brought here, for what he
knows not, unless it be for implied sympathy for the cause of the soil
of his birth and the people of his blood. There was a prisoner here
named Wharton, a Californian. He was a Lieutenant in the United States
Navy at the beginning of the war, when he resigned, and started for
the South via Washington city, but was arrested on his arrival here
and brought to this prison. A short time since he cursed one of the
sentinels for insulting language used towards him, when the sentinel
called for the “corporal of the guard,” who being equally insolent, was
in turn treated in the same way by Lieutenant Wharton. The “officer of
the guard” was then called, who proving equally offensive in language
to Lieutenant W., the latter cursed him in the heat of anger, whereupon
said Lieutenant Wharton was shot, and soon afterwards died of his
wounds. A respectable gentleman, Mr. Stewart of Maryland, who was
incarcerated here, was promised by the guard to be allowed to escape,
on condition of the payment of $50; but although the sentinel pocketed
the money, when Mr. Stewart was effecting his escape the sentinel shot
him, and this sentinel was immediately promoted from a private to a
sergeant.
_Saturday, June 14th, 1862._ It is reported this morning that Colonel
Ashby is killed, and General “Stonewall” Jackson a prisoner, and the
Yankees profess to place great reliance upon the report. From Northern
sources, I learn that when the war-tax was being collected in Southern
Illinois, it required three regiments to accomplish the task. It seems
plain that Southern Illinois would like to break the chains that now
bind her. In the beginning of the war the people of that section were
told by Yankees that wished to raise regiments of soldiers to fight us,
_that the Mississippi would be blocked against them_, when the very
first act of the Confederate Congress insured the free navigation of
the Mississippi river.
The Yankees say that by the first of July their public debt will be 650
million dollars! It is now 1,500 millions!! They have 65,000 sick from
their own account. Who will pay their pensions?
This is a struggle on the side of the Yankees for supremacy, and on
our side for independence. It is urged that the Northern States are a
great deal stronger than the Southern States, and therefore must win
in this contest. England was a great deal stronger than Scotland, but
when it was the object of England to establish by force a supremacy
over Scotland, they found the Scotch very ugly customers. In this war
the North has had certain successes in the field. But how was it with
England in the revolutionary war? It was not for want of victories
in the field that England did not conquer the American colonies, for
England found when most successful in the field, the object desired
was as distant as before. It is not the question when endeavoring to
conquer a country, whether you can break up its embattled armies and
drive them off the plain, where they have contended with you in the
fight. The question is this, and this alone, whether that country is
set upon separation. If it is bent upon separation, it is impossible
to conquer it, and if the North could conquer us, the political and
civil difficulties remaining would render that success a curse and a
misery to those who achieved it. It seems but homage to an abstract
principle that has caused England to bear the misery consequent upon
not recognising the Confederate States. There has been a sense of the
danger and mischief of interference in intestine quarrels in other
countries, and England has so far paid deference to that principle of
international policy, but it will not last a great while longer.
The Yankees admit a loss of 10,000 men at Fort Donaldson—more I believe
than we had engaged in the fight.
_Sunday, June 15th._ My cousin, S. M., called to see me to-day;
also, my friends J. C. H. and F. N. B. I was allowed fifteen minutes
conversation with each in the presence of a Federal commissioned
officer, such being the rule established here. A sermon was preached to
the prisoners to-day by the Rev. Mr. Nourse, from Leesburg, Virginia,
himself a prisoner. William J. Mills, Company D, 12th Georgia regiment,
died to-day, and was buried at the “Congressional burying ground” in
presence of a Confederate commissioned officer, taken there “for the
purpose of witnessing” the same. A lady friend sent me a bottle of wine
by the “Underground railroad.” I cannot say with Hawthorne, to drink it
is more a moral than a physical enjoyment, and that like whatever else
which is superlatively good, it is better appreciated by memory than by
present consciousness. It is decidedly physical in its effects, and far
better in reality than in anticipation.
_Monday, June 16th._ Captain L. F. Whitney, United States cavalry,
called to see me to-day. Captain W. and myself were associated in
the “draughtsman’s room,” United States Patent office, for nearly
four years—every day engaged in the same calling, and upon terms of
intimate friendship. One of his men now stands as sentinel to the room
in which I am confined. Strange the mutations of time! Two years ago
we would have laughed at the prophecy that we would at this time be in
our present relations to each other. We talked only of the pleasures
of the past without any allusion to our present difficulties, and the
interview was, under the circumstances, short but agreeable. An old
man was brought into our room to-day, and the officer who ushered
him, remarked, as he did so, “Here is a man that wishes to see a live
rebel.” Lieutenant D. replied by informing him that “the man with
horns” was out, but would soon be in. I presume the old fool became
satisfied that we are beings of flesh and blood, who eat, drink, sleep,
and wear clothes like other civilized people.
A fellow prisoner from Charlestown, Virginia, says when General Banks
was at that place he stopped at a lady’s boarding house without giving
her any compensation. He sent the lady a few delicacies to eat while in
her house, but when he went away he presented her a bill of $5.
_Tuesday, June 17th._ The Yankee newspapers claim a victory at
Williamsburg. If that battle is a Federal triumph, they are welcome
to all such. The fact is, that they have so much at stake, that they
cannot afford to report their defeat, and do not scruple to lie! I
feel very lonesome in this close room to-day, for those who share my
captivity are reading, writing or sleeping, and I cannot do much of
either, not more than record in my diary my present feelings. Solitude
has the advantage or the danger of making us search more deeply into
the same ideas. As our discourse is only with ourself, we always give
the same direction to the conversation; we are not called to turn it
to the subject which occupies another mind, and so an involuntary
inclination makes us return forever to knock at the same doors. There
are eight officers in this room, and we take turns in putting it in
order, that is, folding up the blankets, sweeping out the room, &c.,
&c., and some take great interest in keeping the room clean, which is
commendable. I distrust the intellect and morality of those people to
whom disorder is of no consequence—who can live at ease in an Augean
stable. What surrounds us, reflects more or less what is within us.
_Wednesday, June 18th._ A fellow prisoner, Mr. B., the able
correspondent of the “London Times,” handed me the following
interesting article to read from the “London Morning Herald” of April
25th. The Herald is the organ of Earl Derby:
“The Southern Confederacy has nearly completed its sixteenth month of
existence. In common parlance, in universal conviction, in actual fact,
in everything but formal diplomatic recognition, the Confederate States
are an independent power. The armies that have so long ravaged their
frontiers, and at last emboldened by a great superiority of numbers,
and a still greater advantage in arms and material, have ventured on
an advance into their territory—_come there not as partizans in a
civil war, but as invaders_; they are and act as the enemies not of
a faction but of a nation—nay, of the entire population. They find
little sympathy, far less than was enjoyed by the French invaders
of Spain. They obtain no information except that very scanty supply
which the most hated enemy can always obtain from deserters; they get
no provisions except what they take by force; they have no friends,
and no power beyond their own lines. In saying this, we except, of
course, that strip of mountains in Kentucky, Tennessee and Western
Virginia, occupied by Northern colonists, and which is part of the
Confederate States, simply by geographical position. It is very rare,
as is evident to the most ignorant and violent of Northerners, to
find a man that is within the Confederate lines who is not a devoted
adherent of the Confederate Government, and a resolute defender of
a country invaded by foreign armies. The Confederate Government has
raised in proportion to its population as large an army as any country
ever yet mustered; it could have a still larger force if it had arms
to put into their hands. It has sustained several great battles,
won several brilliant victories, and rallied without difficulty or
discouragement after one or two severe defeats. There is no division
among the people; no Unionist faction; there is no voice raised in
favor of surrender. As the United States and the Confederate States
form two separate and hostile nations, so the Confederate Government
is clearly as independent of that of the Union as the Crown of Denmark
of the Germanic Confederation, and is as completely organized and
absolute within its own dominions as that which is waging war against
it. It is no question now of “Secession” or Rebellion, but of a war
between two distinct powers, _unequal in numbers_, but perfectly equal
in _strength and status_, equally sovereign and equally national. One
may wrest territory from the other, may plunder its lands, burn its
towns, and blockade its ports by virtue of superior naval and military
force; but the relation in which they stand to each other is not rebel
and tyrant, not subject and sovereign, but that of wholly separate and
independent belligerent nations. The Northern armies in Virginia or
Tennessee are as the French in Spain, or Russia in Turkey—the soldiery
of a foreign government engaged in the invasion of a soil to which they
have no other claim than may be established by the strong hand, or
bestowed by the fortunes of war. The conquest of one nation by another,
rarely as it has occurred, is not wholly unknown or impossible. Poland
is a conquered country, but for western intervention Turkey might have
been. But the conquest of a country as large as half of Europe, which
brings three or four hundred thousand of her sons to her defence,
which is _fortified by primeval forests and impenetrable swamps_, and
impregnable by sheer extent of uninhabitable surface, is one of the
wildest schemes ever proposed by the wickedness of demagogues, or
entertained by the madness of conceit. A Napoleon with a half million
of soldiers would recoil from the task. Is a Lincoln with a half a
million of disorderly ruffians to achieve it? The subjugation of the
South is impossible, provided only the citizens of the Confederate
States display in defence of their hearths and homes, of their rights
and their country, the valor and the resolution which have always
characterized the race from which they sprang. They are a superior
race, and the children of cavaliers, and can never yield to such an
enemy. They have shown as yet no signs of wavering or discouragement,
and they have only to be resolute in endurance, as they have shown
themselves courageous in action, to be sure of a final victory. We
see in the surrender of Island No. 10, in the doubtful operations in
Virginia, in the battle near Pittsburgh, no signs whatever of any
approach to the termination of the war in that way in which the North
proposes to terminate it, viz: by the total prostration of the Southern
States, the dissolution of the Confederacy, and the reconstruction of
the Union. The Northern Government must be aware of the futility of
its promises, the utter impracticability of its professed designs; but
the ignorant and fanatical North believe absolutely and passionately
in their own omnipotence, and its rulers are not the men to undertake
the unpopular, difficult and dangerous task of bringing the people
to a more modest frame of mind. Nothing but a severe lesson, either
a crushing defeat, or a long, expensive, result-less and disastrous
war will enlighten a people whose virtues or Weakness alike make them
obstinate and unreasonable in such a contest as the present. If
left to themselves, _i. e._, without foreign intervention, they will
probably prolong the war into another year. One thing at least appears
certain, that the summer must stay for some months, even under the
most favorable circumstances, the onward march of the Federal armies.
If they are able then to hold their actual positions—if they retain
possession of the greater part of Tennessee, Kentucky, and Northern and
Western Virginia—they will remain encamped on Southern soil, wasting
the crops, burning the houses, taking property of the unhappy citizens
of those rich States, but making no progress whatever. Their vessels
may continue to keep up a nominal blockade of the Southern coast, and
a real embargo on the cotton supply, which affords bread to South
Lancastershire, England. In the meantime the Confederates will be daily
gaining strength, recruiting their forces, and receiving supplies of
arms and ammunition, the want of which has done more to thwart their
heroic efforts than either the valor or bravery of Northern troops
or skill of Northern commanders. On the return of cold weather their
position will be better, and the termination of the war still more
remote. In the interval they cannot invade the South, and cannot hope
to hang the Confederate leaders, but they will still be starving
English operatives, unless England and France grow weary of seeing
their subjects made the victims of the war, and insist on terminating
a struggle, which, while it cannot lead to the result desired by
the aggressors, inflicts on neutrals losses almost as great as the
immediate objects of the aggression.”
A fellow prisoner showed me a beautiful love-letter he received from
his affianced this morning by the “Underground railroad.” The object
of his affections is not permitted to visit him, because she has been
herself a prisoner on account of her “Secession” convictions, but she
brings a letter from Alexandria nearly every day, and sends to the
“handsome Lieutenant:”
The letter! aye, the letter!
“’Tis there a woman loves to speak her wishes;
It spares the blushes of the love-sick maiden,
And every word’s a smile, each line a tongue.”
_Thursday, June 19th._ The only event of interest to me to-day has
been the visit of an attached lady friend, Miss E. A., who brought
me some necessary articles of clothing, quite acceptable under the
circumstances, but more appreciated on account of the motive which
prompted the mission. This lady has two brothers in the 17th regiment
of Virginia volunteers. As an old friend, our interview of fifteen
minutes afforded me much pleasure; but the Yankee officer present
seemed desirous to institute an espionage, more to annoy than to
discharge his orders, and which caused me to wish him in a climate
where we are told that the heat is intolerable—at all events during
my short interview with this to me beautiful angel of mercy. In this
despotic government I have noticed the ladies as well as the sterner
sex fear to express a sentiment against the tyranny of him whom they
call a Republican President. On the contrary all must praise Abraham
Lincoln, or be considered a traitor! Great God, it seems as if they
wish to honor themselves through their master; they elevate him on
their shoulders as a pedestal; they surround him with a halo of light,
in order that some of it may be reflected on themselves. It is still
the fable of the dog, who contents himself with the chain and collar,
so that they are of gold.
_June 20th._ I received some excellent smoking tobacco and cigars this
morning, a present from a lady in Prince George county, Maryland. God
bless the ladies!
The “New York Times” of yesterday contains the following in reference
to my friend Captain Monaghan, of the sixth Louisiana regiment, who
was paroled in the city during the first three or four days after he
arrived here:
(COPY OF PARAGRAPH.)
“THE LOUISIANA TIGER.”
“Captain Manahan, of the Louisiana Tigers, who has been lionizing at
Willard’s hotel for several days, has been sent to the old capitol
prison by order of Secretary Stanton. A gentleman, formerly of New
Orleans, and well acquainted with the Captain, states that he does not
wish to be exchanged, and is loyal to the “Stars and Stripes.””
The Captain being anxious to correct a statement so devoid of truth,
and which impeached his loyalty to the South, wrote to the editor of
the “New York Times,” but as the sequel shows he was not permitted to
send the letter, and thus the ignorant of the North were led to believe
this lie, as they have thousands of others circulated in the same way,
and without the shadow of foundation in truth:
“OLD CAPITOL PRISON, WASHINGTON, D.C., JUNE 20, 1862.
_To the Editor of the New York Times_,
SIR: A paragraph appeared in your edition of yesterday, headed “the
Louisiana Tiger,” and I infer that the informer, who furnished matter
for this paragraph, must have been made the dupe of a joker. I am
no tiger, but the Captain of Company F, sixth regiment Louisiana
volunteers. I have been on parole some days, anxiously awaiting an
exchange. “Lionizing” is no amusement to me, but a great bore. My
convictions, as well as my heart, are with my brethren, who are
fighting in defence of my invaded country. I would that my strong
right arm were there also. I trust this will be a sufficient answer
to the New Orleans gentleman, who has _dared_ to cast a stigma upon
my loyalty and _devotion_ to the _South_; and if further proof of the
fact were necessary, it may be discovered in the act of Mr. Secretary
Stanton, who has ordered me to be incarcerated in this place.
Respectfully your obedient servant,
WM. MONAGHAN,
_Captain Company F, 6th Regiment Louisiana Volunteers,
Prisoner of War_.”
This letter was sent to the Provost Marshal for approval, but was
returned with the following note from Mr. William P. Wood, the
superintendent of the prison:
”OLD CAPITOL PRISON, JUNE 25, 1862.
The foregoing communication was placed in my hands by Captain
Monaghan, to be examined at the Provost Marshal’s office, and has been
returned to me marked “not approved,” and is returned to Captain M. by
me, such being the usual procedure with letters “not approved.”
WM. P. WOOD,
_Superintendent_.”
_Saturday, June 21st._ P. C. H. called to see me to-day. He is a clerk
in the Adjutant General’s office, but was formerly with me in the
United States Patent office. A member of Company F, 35th Georgia, died
in prison to-day, but I could not learn his name.
_June 22d._ The Rev. Father Boyle, (Catholic Priest,) called to see
me to-day. He was allowed to come into my room alone, upon a promise
not to talk about war matters. He brought me a copy of the “National
Intelligencer” of June 12th, from which I extract the following:
“COTTON BURNING.”
The London Star of May 27th thus appreciates the Confederate policy of
cotton burning:
“If it be true that thousands of bales of goods—incapable of
being converted into munitions of war, and absolutely secure, as
private properly, from confiscation by the Federals—are being burnt
or rolled into the river, the Confederates are committing social as
well as political suicide. It is an act that has no comparison in
modern history. It is not, like the destruction of Moscow, an act of
desperate patriotism, for it impoverishes the vanquished, without in
the least injuring the victors. If all the cotton, tobacco and sugar
between Richmond and Mobile were given to the flames, it would not
retard by an hour the fall of those cities, nor enhance by a dollar
the cost of the conquest. Neither can it be supposed, except by men
whose offences and disasters have phrenzied their intellects, that
these huge incendiarisms will attract the slightest favor to their
cause from across the Atlantic. They must be mad, indeed, to reckon
that England and France will come to the help of men who are wantonly
injuring themselves and the subjects of those powers. The only
kindness that Europe can show them, is to advise that they abstain
from such barbarous outrages, and make their peace as quickly as they
can with the government that is as superior in right as in strength,
having both the right and the power to retaliate upon such atrocities
by a splendid act of mercy to mankind.”