PRISON LIFE.
Mournful news.--How a brave man dies.--New Year's Day.--Jolly under
unfavorable circumstances.--Major Turner pays his
respects.--Punishment for singing "villainous Yankee
songs."--Confederate General John Morgan.--Plans for
escape.--Digging their way to freedom.--"Post No. 1, All's
well."--Yankee ingenuity.--The tunnel ready.--Muscle the trump
card.--No respect to rank.--_Sauve qui peut!_--A strategic
movement.--"Guards! guards!"--Absentees from
muster.--Disappointed hopes.--Savage treatment of prisoners.--Was
the prison mined?
The Richmond papers occasionally found their way into the hands of the
prisoners, and the following mournful item of news is transcribed from
one of them. The writer of the ensuing letter was a man about thirty
years of age, who was accused by the rebel authorities of having acted
as a spy on behalf of the Union government. A gloom hung over the prison
for some days after the reading of the article:
Castle Thunder, Richmond, Virginia.
Dear Father:--By permission and through the courtesy of Captain
Alexander, I am enabled to write you a few lines. You, who before
this have heard from me in regard to my situation here, can, I
trust, bear it, when I tell you that my days on earth are soon
ended.
Last Saturday I was court-martialed, and this evening, a short time
since, I received notice of my sentence from Captain Alexander,
who has since shown me every kindness consistent with his duty.
Writing to my dear parents, I feel there can be no greater comfort
after such tidings, than to tell you that I trust, by the mercy of
our Heavenly Father, to die the death of a Christian.
For more than a year, since the commencement of my confinement, I
have been trying to serve him in my own feeble way, and I do not
fear to go to Him.
I would have loved to see you all again; God saw best not; why
should we mourn? Comfort your hearts, my dear parents, by thoughts
of God's mercy unto your son, and bow with reverence beneath the
hand of Him who "doeth all things well."
* * * I sent a ring to my wife by a clergyman, Monday last; I also
sent a telegram to yourself, which will arrive too late, as the
time of my execution is set for the day after to-morrow.
Dear parents: there are but few more moments left me; I will try to
think often of you; God bless and comfort you; remember me kindly
and respectfully to all my dear friends and relatives. Tell Kitty I
hope to meet her again. Take care of Freddy for me; put him often
in remembrance of me.
Dear mother, good-bye. God comfort you, my mother, and bless you
with the love of happy children. Farewell, my father; we meet again
by God's mercy.
Spencer Kellogg.
The following account of the execution is from a Richmond paper:
"At eleven o'clock yesterday forenoon, a detail of one hundred men from
the City Battalion, marched from Castle Thunder with Spencer Kellogg,
the recently condemned spy, in custody.
"The cavalcade reached the scene of execution about half-past twelve
o'clock, where, as usual, a vast concourse of people, of both sexes and
all ages, were congregated. After a few moments spent in preliminary
arrangements, the prisoner was escorted, under guard, to the gallows.
While seated in the hack awaiting the perfection of the arrangements for
his execution, he conversed freely with the utmost _nonchalance_ with
Dr. Burrows, frequently smiling at some remark made either by himself or
the minister.
"Arriving under the gallows, the charges preferred against the accused
and the sentence of the court-martial were read. A short but impressive
prayer was then offered by the minister, at the conclusion of which the
condemned man, unaccompanied, mounted the scaffold.
"In a few moments Detective Capehart followed, and commenced to adjust
the rope over the neck of the condemned, in which he assisted, all the
while talking with the officer. On taking off his hat, to admit the
noose over his head, he threw it one side, and falling off the scaffold,
it struck a gentleman beneath, when the prisoner turned quickly, and
bowing, said: 'Excuse me, sir!'
"A negro next came on the scaffold with a ladder, and proceeded to
fasten the rope to the upper beam, the prisoner meanwhile regarding him
with the greatest composure. The rope being fastened, the negro was in
the act of coming down, when the prisoner, looking up at the rope,
remarked: 'This will not break my neck! It is not more than a foot fall!
Doctor, I wish you would come up and arrange this thing!' The rope was
then rearranged to his satisfaction, and the cloth cap placed over his
head.
"The condemned man then bowed his head, and engaged a few seconds in
prayer, at the conclusion of which he raised himself, and standing
perfectly erect, pronounced in a clear voice: 'All ready!'
"The drop fell, and the condemned man was launched into eternity!"
Kellogg is said by his captors to have died with the conviction that he
had furnished more valuable information, in the character of a spy, to
the Federal government than any other ten men in the service. But this
has been denied by his friends at the North, who assert that he was
innocent of the charge.
With baseless rumors of a soon-to-be-effected cartel of exchange; the
drawing of lots for the selection of hostages, upon whom the Confederacy
proposed to retaliate for the punishment inflicted upon three
Confederates by the Federal authorities who had sentenced them to
imprisonment in the Illinois State Prison; listening to yarns spun by
real or pretended veterans; playing games of chance; holding spirited
debates; reading letters from home; occasionally poring over the
newspaper procured by stealth; or meditating plans of escape--the
balance of the year 1863 wore on to its close, and still Willard Glazier
was a prisoner of war, with no prospect whatever of a speedy release.
Then came New-Year's Day, 1864, and some little attempt was made to get
up a New-Year's dinner--though no extra rations had been issued. They
did their best, however, like Mark Tapley, to be "jolly under
unfavorable circumstances."
Nothing occurred out of the usual routine until the twenty-fourth of
January, when, as the prisoners, including Glazier, were singing "The
Star-Spangled Banner," "Rally Round the Flag, Boys," etc., the door
leading into the street was suddenly flung open, and a squad of armed
men filed in. Turner was at their head, and quickly crossing the room
and placing himself at the door leading up-stairs, to prevent any of the
prisoners from making their escape, began: "Now you d----d boisterous
scoundrels, I'll teach you to begin your d----d howling in this building
again. I want you to understand that you must not drive people crazy out
in the streets with your villainous Yankee songs." He then turned to his
men and ordered them to "Take their stations around the d----d rascals,
and shoot the first man that dared to stir out of his tracks." Having
completed which arrangement, he added to his helpless victims: "Now,
d--n you, stay here until twelve o'clock to-night, and make a bit of
noise or move from your place, if you dare." And he kept them there
until the appointed hour, standing and in silence. "The fires went out
early in the evening, and the cold became intense. Some managed to get
blankets from their friends," in the apartment above, "but the guards
soon put a stop to that. One man called down to a friend through a
knot-hole in the floor, asking him if he wanted a blanket. The guard
heard him, cocked his gun, and aimed at the hole; but a call from below
gave the man warning and he fled." And all this for singing a song
written by a Southerner, in praise of the flag under whose aegis Major
Turner was nurtured and received his military education! It is quite
possible that a song identified with the cause of their supposed enemy
might have produced a commotion among the ignorant rabble in the street,
and hence it is perhaps unfair to blame the commander of the prison for
prohibiting the loud singing, which partook somewhat of the nature of
defiance; but he could certainly have attained his object as effectually
in a manner becoming an officer and a gentleman. Even the victims of the
First French Revolution were permitted to express in song through the
bars of the Temple sentiments of utter scorn for their enemies, and
when the Jacobins in their turn marched to the guillotine they did so,
singing the "Marseillaise."
A great sensation was created among the prisoners on the twenty-fifth of
the month on account of a visit made to "Libby" by the famous raider,
General John Morgan, whom Glazier describes as a "large, fine-looking
officer, wearing a full beard and a rebel uniform, trimmed with the
usual amount of gold braid;" but something far more interesting than the
visit of any man, however famous, began to absorb the attention of our
imprisoned hero at this time. He had never ceased to rack his brain with
schemes looking to his escape. A life of captivity was indescribably
wearisome to him. He not only taxed his own ingenuity in the effort to
discover some feasible plan, but eagerly entered into the schemes of
others. The result, however, so far as he was individually concerned,
was by no means in accordance with his hopes; but, as he has given the
details in his "Capture, Prison-Pen, and Escape," we cannot do better
(even at the risk of quoting from that work more freely than we had
intended) than to let our readers have it in his own words, thus:
"Early in the winter, Colonel Thomas E. Rose, of the Seventy-seventh
Pennsylvania Volunteers, conceived a plan of escape, and organized a
secret company of twenty-seven, who were to dig their way to freedom.
"Colonel Rose was well calculated to superintend this work, for he had
served in the Mexican War, was taken prisoner by the Mexicans, and after
a short confinement, escaped by tunneling from the prison a sufficient
distance to be clear of the guards. He had served his apprenticeship
and was now prepared to manage and direct. After thorough organization
of our company, with secrecy well enjoined, we adopted the following
plan of operations:
"In the basement of the building just below our cook-room, was a small
unoccupied cellar, which had been closed since our arrival, and was
never entered. From this room or cellar arose a large chimney, which
passed through the cook-room, and so to the top of the building. Our
first work was to make a hole in the chimney from the kitchen, which
opening we could easily conceal by means of some slop-barrels. These
barrels we managed ourselves to empty, so that all danger of detection
from this point was carefully avoided. A short ladder which our
considerate jailers had brought into the rooms for the purpose of
raising their flag on the building, was used to make our descent into
the dark room below. Inquiry was made for the ladder, but as no one
seemed to know anything about it, it was inferred that it had been
converted into fuel. At the foot of the ladder another opening was made
through the chimney wall leading into the underground basement room. By
removing a few stones from the wall of this place, we were in a
situation to commence the work of tunneling. The only implements in our
possession were an old trowel and the half of a canteen. The arduous
labor was commenced with only the fragment of a canteen, but with this
the progress was so slow that even the most patient were disheartened.
Fortunately for us a mason came in to repair the prison walls, and going
to dinner before he had finished his work, left his trowel, which in his
absence most mysteriously disappeared. To him it may have been of
little account, to us it was a godsend. With the aid of this implement
we were enabled to make more rapid progress, were greatly encouraged,
and worked night and day with ceaseless energy. Two of our number were
kept in the tunnel almost constantly. One, by a vigorous use of the
trowel and canteen, would advance slowly, placing the loosened earth in
an old blanket, which the other would convey out of the tunnel into a
corner of the room, from whence it started. Our course was due east,
under the street, where constantly paced the sentinels, who at every
hour of the night were wont to cry: 'Post No. 1; all's well!'--'Post No.
2; all's well!' etc. Little did they dream that Yankee ingenuity and
perseverance were perforating the solid earth under their feet, and
opening a path to freedom.
"As we progressed in our work we experienced great difficulty from the
want of pure air to breathe, and to sustain our candles, which refused
to burn. Consequently, one of our party was compelled to stand at the
opening, fanning pure air into the tunnel with his hat. Our atmospheric
difficulties were the more increased by the small size of the hole,
which was a little less than two feet in diameter, quite irregular in
consequence of large stones, and descended in a line below the
horizontal. This severe labor was carried on without much interruption
for more than three weeks, when, at last, the plan came near being a
failure on account of a sad mistake in our measurement. Our intention
was to reach the yard of an old shed, or warehouse, in which were then
stored the boxes sent us by the Christian and Sanitary Commissions, and
by our friends at the North.
"Thinking we had reached the desired point, an opening was made to the
surface, when it was found we were still in the street, outside the
fence, and within a few yards of the sentries. Not discovered by this
mishap, the hole was quickly filled with a pair of old pants and some
straw, and the work of excavation continued to the spot intended.
"The selection of this point was very fortunate, as the guards used to
skulk about this building at night for the purpose of plundering the
boxes, and on the night of the escape, as it happened, they saw every
man that came out; but, supposing them to be friends, only whispered to
each other, that 'the boys were going through the _Yankee boxes_ mighty
fast.'
"These whisperings," adds Captain Glazier, "were distinctly heard by
some of our men. The tunnel was about sixty-five feet in length, and was
ready for use February ninth, 1864.
"The company of diggers had arranged that they should make their egress
first, and inform the others just as they were going out. But each man
had a particular friend whom he wished to notify, and, as we were seen
packing our clothing, it soon became suspected among our
fellow-prisoners that something unusual was in the wind. Curiosity, once
on the alert, soon discovered the secret, and then all were jubilant
with the hope of escape, and forthwith commenced packing their poor
wardrobes. But egress was so slow that it soon became evident to the
cool calculator that, at best, but a comparatively small proportion of
our number would be fortunate enough to take their departure from
'Libby' before daylight would forbid any further efforts in that
direction.
"In order to get down the chimney, as well as along the tunnel, it was
necessary to do so _in puris naturalibus_, wrap our clothing in a
bundle, and push it on before us. As soon as it was seen that only a few
could possibly get out, many, and in fact most, became selfish, and
thought only of attaining their own liberty. All rushed for the mouth of
the tunnel, each man seemingly determined to be first out. By this
movement, the organization formed by the pioneers or working party was
broken up, and the workmen, who were to have had the first opportunity
to escape, were not more favorably situated than those who had never
borne a hand in the digging. At the entrance to the tunnel were hundreds
eagerly awaiting their turn.
"Through the intense anxiety and excitement that arose, there was a rush
and a crowd, each one being eager to improve the opportunity. Muscle was
the trump card, and won. The weak had to step aside, or rather they were
pushed aside without apology. No respect was paid to rank or name. A
long-armed second lieutenant had no scruple in taking hold of a pair of
shoulders that wore eagles, and pushing them out of the way. It was
_sauve qui peut_, and no standing aside for betters--no deference to
age, and gray hairs ceased to be honored. Mere physical force was the
test of championship. Those poor weak ones who gravitated to the
outskirts of such an eager crowding mass--just as the light kernels will
find their way to the top of a shaken measure of wheat--doubtless
thought, as they felt themselves crowded further and further from the
door of egress:
"'Oh, it is excellent
To have a giant's strength, but 'tis tyrannous
To use it like a giant!'
"I made several attempts," Glazier continues, "to assert what I
considered my rights, but as I had not, at that time, much muscle to
back my claims, they were not recognized, and thus I spent the whole
night in a bootless struggle for freedom.
"In digging the tunnel we had encountered a large root which we could
not well remove, and the passage at this point was very narrow.
Lieutenant Wallace F. Randolph, Fifth United States Artillery, a
corpulent fellow, was caught fast by the root. There was a man before
him, and another behind, which almost entirely excluded atmospheric
circulation, and before they could pull him out of his unfortunate
predicament, Randolph was almost dead. He was, however, successful at
last. This blockade greatly retarded the line of march, and made the
crowd within still more desperate.
"Some of the outsiders in the struggle, who despaired of accomplishing
anything by strength, had recourse to a stratagem. There had been
considerable noise during the struggle for position, and the guards were
expected to make their appearance at any moment. The outsiders, taking
advantage of this apprehension, went to the farther end of the
cook-room, and, in the darkness, made a racket with pots and kettles,
which sounded very much like the clashing of fire-arms; while some of
their number in the crowd sang out: 'Guards! guards!' In an instant
every man was gone from the tunnel, and a frantic rush took place for
the single stairway by about five hundred men. Such a struggling and
pressing I have never elsewhere seen, or participated in. We neither
walked up, nor ran up, but were literally lifted from our feet, and
propelled along in a solid mass up the passage, and made our entrance
through the door at the head of the stairs as though shot from a
cannon--most of us not stopping until we struck the wall on the opposite
side of the room. While this was going on, the scamps who had given the
false alarm were quietly passing out of the tunnel! The _ruse_ was soon
discovered, however, and, in a few minutes, there was as great a jam at
the entrance of the tunnel as ever. But, so eager and unthinking were
we, that within half an hour, the same trick was played on us again by
others and then followed another stampede up the stairs. It is a wonder
this affair was not stopped by the guards, but they had no suspicion
whatever of what was going on. This was probably owing to the fact that
great noises in the cook-room were common throughout the night as well
as day. It is however reported that one of the sentinels was heard to
call out jocosely to a comrade on the next beat, 'Hello, Billy! there
goes somebody's coffee-pot, sure.'
"This struggle continued until morning, when the opening in the chimney
was covered, and we went to our several quarters. Here a muster was
called to discover how many had made their escape, when it was found
that one hundred and fifteen were missing. Arrangements were at once
made to account for their absence, and certain men were designated who
were to cross the room slyly during roll-call, and be counted twice.
"For some reason the authorities were late that morning, and did not
make their appearance until about ten o'clock. On the roll being called
the men, according to arrangement, attempted to cross the room, but the
movement was discovered, and so the count showed one hundred and fifteen
short. The clerk thought he had made a mistake, and counted again, but
with the same result. The authorities also thought there must be some
error in the count, and joked little Ross, the prison clerk, who was
none of the brightest, because he could not count a thousand Yankees!
"We were now marched from one room to another, and counted one by one,
but still there were one hundred and fifteen short of the complement.
We, of course, pretended to be as much surprised as the authorities.
They next sent for Major Turner, and he counted us two or three times,
but with an equally unsatisfactory result. He demanded of us where they
had gone, and how they got out; but not a man knew.
"The escape was at once made public, and the papers were filled with the
news, and the most strenuous measures at once adopted to ensure the
recapture of the runaways. The authorities were terribly exasperated,
and as a first step, arrested the guards and threw them into Castle
Thunder, concluding as a matter of course, that they had been bribed.
This set the guards thinking, and one of them remembered he had seen an
unusual number of men in the lot near the Yankee boxes. Latouche, the
prison adjutant, hearing of this, just before nightfall discovered the
locality of the opening. Next, they questioned the prisoners as to
_where_ in the building it began, but could obtain no satisfaction, and
not until after a long search, did they discover the opening in the
chimney."
So the "patient toil and vigil long" of poor Glazier went for nothing.
The Confederate authorities seem to have treated the matter very
good-humoredly, frankly expressed their surprise at the ingenuity and
patience of the subterranean engineers, and manfully set about the task
of recapturing the fugitives. Forty-eight were brought in during the
next two days, but at the same time it leaked out among the prisoners
that the Unionists under General Kilpatrick were within the outer line
of fortifications, engaging the rebels, as it was conjectured, with the
view of rescuing the prisoners. The consequence was, there was much
excitement among the latter, for the boom of cannon sounded distinctly
in their ears, and that sound was accepted as the music that heralded
their approaching freedom.
All such hopes, however, were doomed to disappointment. The object of
the expedition, which was a combined movement from different points by
General Kilpatrick and Colonel Dahlgren, was defeated in consequence of
the treachery of a negro guide, employed by the latter officer, and one
of the effects of this man's treason was the death of that gallant young
soldier. The only result that followed to the prisoners was that the
rebels became more exasperated than ever, and unfortunately for their
reputation, they seem, with regard to the treatment of the few prisoners
that fell into their hands on this occasion, to have behaved rather like
savage than civilized people. Not satisfied with the perpetration of
acts of cruelty upon these particular prisoners, they (according to
Captain Glazier's information) undermined the prison building, and
stored beneath the foundation a sufficient quantity of powder to blow it
into fragments. This proceeding he says they called, with more force
than elegance, "preparing the Yankees for hell;" and Major Turner
very grimly informed them that if any further attempt at escape were
made, or efforts for their rescue, the prison would be blown to atoms!
It is not surprising that at such a time, and under the circumstances,
the prisoners looked upon this threat as meant in sober reality; but in
all probability (or at least let us hope), it was used simply as a means
of discouraging attempts upon the part of the incarcerated men, to
regain their liberty by their own efforts or that of their friends.
[Illustration: The Hole In The Floor.]
The raiders captured in the expedition under Kilpatrick and Dahlgren had
been thrust into a cell directly beneath the room in which Glazier was
confined. Contrivances were made to open communication with them for the
purpose, if possible, of alleviating their sufferings, as it was well
known that food was issued to them in very niggardly quantities, and
every indignity the rebels could devise inflicted upon them. After much
effort, by the aid of a knife, a hole was cut in the floor, sufficiently
large to pass a man's hand, and through this hole Glazier, for several
weeks, was instrumental in furnishing the captives with a share of his
own and his companions' rations, which were eagerly grasped and devoured
by the starving men. No single act of our hero's life afforded him more
real happiness than the service he was thus enabled to render the brave
men who had lost their liberty in the noble effort to capture the prison
and release its inmates.