CHAPTER LXXXII.

THE RESPONSIBILITY--WHO WAS TO BLAME FOR ALL THE MISERY--AN EXAMINATION

OF THE FLIMSY EXCUSES MADE FOR THE REBELS--ONE DOCUMENT THAT CONVICTS

THEM--WHAT IS DESIRED.

I have endeavored to tell the foregoing story as calmly, as

dispassionately, as free from vituperation and prejudice as possible.

How well I have succeeded the reader must judge. How difficult this

moderation has been at times only those know who, like myself, have seen,

from day to day, the treason-sharpened fangs of Starvation and Disease

gnaw nearer and nearer to the hearts of well-beloved friends and

comrades. Of the sixty-three of my company comrades who entered prison

with me, but eleven, or at most thirteen, emerged alive, and several of

these have since died from the effects of what they suffered. The

mortality in the other companies of our battalion was equally great,

as it was also with the prisoners generally. Not less than twenty-five

thousand gallant, noble-hearted boys died around me between the dates of

my capture and release. Nobler men than they never died for any cause.

For the most part they were simple-minded, honest-hearted boys; the

sterling products of our Northern home-life, and Northern Common Schools,

and that grand stalwart Northern blood, the yeoman blood of sturdy middle

class freemen--the blood of the race which has conquered on every field

since the Roman Empire went down under its sinewy blows. They prated

little of honor, and knew nothing of "chivalry" except in its repulsive

travesty in the South. As citizens at home, no honest labor had been

regarded by them as too humble to be followed with manly pride in its

success; as soldiers in the field, they did their duty with a calm

defiance of danger and death, that the world has not seen equaled in the

six thousand years that men have followed the trade of war. In the

prison their conduct was marked by the same unostentatious but

unflinching heroism. Death stared them in the face constantly. They

could read their own fate in that of the loathsome, unburied dead all

around them. Insolent enemies mocked their sufferings, and sneered at

their devotion to a Government which they asserted had abandoned them,

but the simple faith, the ingrained honesty of these plain-mannered,

plain-spoken boys rose superior to every trial. Brutus, the noblest

Roman of them all, says in his grandest flight:

Set honor in one eye and death in the other,

And I will look on both indifferently.

They did not say this: they did it. They never questioned their duty; no

repinings, no murmurings against their Government escaped their lips,

they took the dread fortunes brought to them as calmly, as unshrinkingly

as they had those in the field; they quailed not, nor wavered in their

faith before the worst the Rebels could do. The finest epitaph ever

inscribed above a soldier's grave was that graven on the stone which

marked the resting-place of the deathless three hundred who fell at

Thermopylae:

Go, stranger, to Lacedaemon,--

And tell Sparta that we lie here in obedience to her laws.

They who lie in the shallow graves of Andersonville, Belle Isle, Florence

and Salisbury, lie there in obedience to the precepts and maxims

inculcated into their minds in the churches and Common Schools of the

North; precepts which impressed upon them the duty of manliness and honor

in all the relations and exigencies of life; not the "chivalric" prate of

their enemies, but the calm steadfastness which endureth to the end. The

highest tribute that can be paid them is to say they did full credit to

their teachings, and they died as every American should when duty bids

him. No richer heritage was ever bequeathed to posterity.

It was in the year 1864, and the first three months of 1865 that these

twenty-five thousand youths mere cruelly and needlessly done to death.

In these fatal fifteen months more young men than to-day form the pride,

the hope, and the vigor of any one of our leading Cities, more than at

the beginning of the war were found in either of several States in the

Nation, were sent to their graves, "unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown,"

victims of the most barbarous and unnecessary cruelty recorded since the

Dark Ages. Barbarous, because the wit of man has not yet devised a more

savage method of destroying fellow-beings than by exposure and

starvation; unnecessary, because the destruction of these had not, and

could not have the slightest effect upon the result of the struggle.

The Rebel leaders have acknowledged that they knew the fate of the

Confederacy was sealed when the campaign of 1864 opened with the North

displaying an unflinching determination to prosecute the war to a

successful conclusion. All that they could hope for after that was some

fortuitous accident, or unexpected foreign recognition that would give

them peace with victory. The prisoners were non-important factors in the

military problem. Had they all been turned loose as soon as captured,

their efforts would not have hastened the Confederacy's fate a single

day.

As to the responsibility for this monstrous cataclysm of human misery and

death: That the great mass of the Southern people approved of these

outrages, or even knew of them, I do not, for an instant, believe. They

are as little capable of countenancing such a thing as any people in the

world. But the crowning blemish of Southern society has ever been the

dumb acquiescence of the many respectable, well-disposed, right-thinking

people in the acts of the turbulent and unscrupulous few. From this

direful spring has flowed an Iliad of unnumbered woes, not only to that

section but to our common country. It was this that kept the South

vibrating between patriotism and treason during the revolution, so that

it cost more lives and treasure to maintain the struggle there than in

all the rest of the country. It was this that threatened the

dismemberment of the Union in 1832. It was this that aggravated and

envenomed every wrong growing out of Slavery; that outraged liberty,

debauched citizenship, plundered the mails, gagged the press, stiffled

speech, made opinion a crime, polluted the free soil of God with the

unwilling step of the bondman, and at last crowned three-quarters of a

century of this unparalleled iniquity by dragging eleven millions of

people into a war from which their souls revolted, and against which they

had declared by overwhelming majorities in every State except South

Carolina, where the people had no voice. It may puzzle some to

understand how a relatively small band of political desperados in each

State could accomplish such a momentous wrong; that they did do it, no

one conversant with our history will deny, and that they--insignificant

as they were in numbers, in abilities, in character, in everything save

capacity and indomitable energy in mischief--could achieve such gigantic

wrongs in direct opposition to the better sense of their communities is a

fearful demonstration of the defects of the constitution of Southern

society.

Men capable of doing all that the Secession leaders were guilty of--both

before and during the war--were quite capable of revengefully destroying

twenty-five thousand of their enemies by the most hideous means at their

command. That they did so set about destroying their enemies, wilfully,

maliciously, and with malice prepense and aforethought, is susceptible of

proof as conclusive as that which in a criminal court sends murderers to

the gallows.

Let us examine some of these proofs:

1. The terrible mortality at Andersonville and elsewhere was a matter of

as much notoriety throughout the Southern Confederacy as the military

operations of Lee and Johnson. No intelligent man--much less the Rebel

leaders--was ignorant of it nor of its calamitous proportions.

2. Had the Rebel leaders within a reasonable time after this matter

became notorious made some show of inquiring into and alleviating the

deadly misery, there might be some excuse for them on the ground of lack

of information, and the plea that they did as well as they could would

have some validity. But this state of affairs was allowed to continue

over a year--in fact until the downfall of the Confederacy--without a

hand being raised to mitigate the horrors of those places--without even

an inquiry being made as to whether they were mitigable or not. Still

worse: every month saw the horrors thicken, and the condition of the

prisoners become more wretched.

The suffering in May, 1864, was more terrible than in April; June showed

a frightful increase over May, while words fail to paint the horrors of

July and August, and so the wretchedness waxed until the end, in April,

1865.

3. The main causes of suffering and death were so obviously preventible

that the Rebel leaders could not have been ignorant of the ease with

which a remedy could be applied. These main causes were three in number:

a. Improper and insufficient food.

b. Unheard-of crowding together.

c. Utter lack of shelter.

It is difficult to say which of these three was the most deadly. Let us

admit, for the sake of argument, that it was impossible for the Rebels to

supply sufficient and proper food. This admission, I know, will not

stand for an instant in the face of the revelations made by Sherman's

March to the Sea; and through the Carolinas, but let that pass, that we

may consider more easily demonstrable facts connected with the next two

propositions, the first of which is as to the crowding together. Was

land so scarce in the Southern Confederacy that no more than sixteen

acres could be spared for the use of thirty-five thousand prisoners?

The State of Georgia has a population of less than one-sixth that of New

York, scattered over a territory one-quarter greater than that State's,

and yet a pitiful little tract--less than the corn-patch "clearing" of

the laziest "cracker" in the State--was all that could be allotted to the

use of three-and-a-half times ten thousand young men! The average

population of the State does not exceed sixteen to the square mile, yet

Andersonville was peopled at the rate of one million four hundred

thousand to the square mile. With millions of acres of unsettled,

useless, worthless pine barrens all around them, the prisoners were

wedged together so closely that there was scarcely room to lie down at

night, and a few had space enough to have served as a grave. This, too,

in a country where the land was of so little worth that much of it had

never been entered from the Government.

Then, as to shelter and fire: Each of the prisons was situated in the

heart of a primeval forest, from which the first trees that had ever been

cut were those used in building the pens. Within a gun-shot of the

perishing men was an abundance of lumber and wood to have built every man

in prison a warm, comfortable hut, and enough fuel to supply all his

wants. Supposing even, that the Rebels did not have the labor at hand to

convert these forests into building material and fuel, the prisoners

themselves would have gladly undertaken the work, as a means of promoting

their own comfort, and for occupation and exercise. No tools would have

been too poor and clumsy for them to work with. When logs were

occasionally found or brought into prison, men tore them to pieces almost

with their naked fingers. Every prisoner will bear me out in the

assertion that there was probably not a root as large as a bit of

clothes-line in all the ground covered by the prisons, that eluded the

faithfully eager search of freezing men for fuel. What else than

deliberate design can account for this systematic withholding from the

prisoners of that which was so essential to their existence, and which it

was so easy to give them?

This much for the circumstantial evidence connecting the Rebel

authorities with the premeditated plan for destroying the prisoners.

Let us examine the direct evidence:

The first feature is the assignment to the command of the prisons of

"General" John H. Winder, the confidential friend of Mr. Jefferson Davis,

and a man so unscrupulous, cruel and bloody-thirsty that at the time of

his appointment he was the most hated and feared man in the Southern

Confederacy. His odious administration of the odious office of Provost

Marshal General showed him to be fittest of tools for their purpose.

Their selection--considering the end in view, was eminently wise. Baron

Haynau was made eternally infamous by a fraction of the wanton cruelties

which load the memory of Winder. But it can be said in extenuation of

Haynau's offenses that he was a brave, skilful and energetic soldier, who

overthrew on the field the enemies he maltreated. If Winder, at any time

during the war, was nearer the front than Richmond, history does not

mention it. Haynau was the bastard son of a German Elector and of the

daughter of a village, druggist. Winder was the son of a sham

aristocrat, whose cowardice and incompetence in the war of 1812 gave

Washington into the hands of the British ravagers.

It is sufficient indication of this man's character that he could look

unmoved upon the terrible suffering that prevailed in Andersonville in

June, July, and August; that he could see three thousand men die each

month in the most horrible manner, without lifting a finger in any way to

assist them; that he could call attention in a self-boastful way to the

fact that "I am killing off more Yankees than twenty regiments in Lee's

Army," and that he could respond to the suggestions of the horror-struck

visiting Inspector that the prisoners be given at least more room, with

the assertion that he intended to leave matters just as they were--the

operations of death would soon thin out the crowd so that the survivors

would have sufficient room.

It was Winder who issued this order to the Commander of the Artillery:

ORDER No. 13.

HEADQUARTERS MILITARY PRISON,

ANDERSONVILLE, Ga., July 27, 1864.

The officers on duty and in charge of the Battery of Florida Artillery at

the time will, upon receiving notice that the enemy has approached within

seven miles of this post, open upon the Stockade with grapeshot, without

reference to the situation beyond these lines of defense.

JOHN H. WINDER,

Brigadier General Commanding.

Diabolical is the only word that will come at all near fitly

characterizing such an infamous order. What must have been the nature of

a man who would calmly order twenty-five guns to be opened with grape and

canister at two hundred yards range, upon a mass of thirty thousand

prisoners, mostly sick and dying! All this, rather than suffer them to

be rescued by their friends. Can there be any terms of reprobation

sufficiently strong to properly denounce so malignant a monster? History

has no parallel to him, save among the blood-reveling kings of Dahomey,

or those sanguinary Asiatic chieftains who built pyramids of human

skulls, and paved roads with men's bones. How a man bred an American

came to display such a Timour-like thirst for human life, such an

Oriental contempt for the sufferings of others, is one of the mysteries

that perplexes me the more I study it.

If the Rebel leaders who appointed this man, to whom he reported direct,

without intervention of superior officers, and who were fully informed of

all his acts through other sources than himself, were not responsible for

him, who in Heaven's name was? How can there be a possibility that they

were not cognizant and approving of his acts?

The Rebels have attempted but one defense to the terrible charges against

them, and that is, that our Government persistently refused to exchange,

preferring to let its men rot in prison, to yielding up the Rebels it

held. This is so utterly false as to be absurd. Our Government made

overture after overture for exchange to the Rebels, and offered to yield

many of the points of difference. But it could not, with the least

consideration for its own honor, yield up the negro soldiers and their

officers to the unrestrained brutality of the Rebel authorities, nor

could it, consistent with military prudence, parole the one hundred

thousand well-fed, well-clothed, able-bodied Rebels held by it as

prisoners, and let them appear inside of a week in front of Grant or

Sherman. Until it would agree to do this the Rebels would not agree to

exchange, and the only motive--save revenge--which could have inspired

the Rebel maltreatment of the prisoners, was the expectation of raising

such a clamor in the North as would force the Government to consent to a

disadvantageous exchange, and to give back to the Confederacy, at its

most critical period one hundred thousand fresh, able-bodied soldiers.

It was for this purpose, probably, that our Government and the Sanitary

Commission were refused all permission to send us food and clothing.

For my part, and I know I echo the feelings of ninety-nine out of every

hundred of my comrades, I would rather have staid in prison till I

rotted, than that our Government should have yielded to the degrading

demands of insolent Rebels.

There is one document in the possession of the Government which seems to

me to be unanswerable proof, both of the settled policy of the Richmond

Government towards the Union prisoners, and of the relative merits of

Northern and Southern treatment of captives. The document is a letter

reading as follows:

CITY POINT, Va., March 17, 1863.

SIR:--A flag-of-truce boat has arrived with three hundred and fifty

political prisoners, General Barrow and several other prominent men among

them.

I wish you to send me on four o'clock Wednesday morning, all the military

prisoners (except officers), and all the political prisoners you have.

If any of the political prisoners have on hand proof enough to convict

them of being spies, or of having committed other offenses which should

subject them to punishment, so state opposite their names. Also, state

whether you think, under all the circumstances, they should be released.

The arrangement I have made works largely in our favor. WE GET RID OF A

SET OF MISERABLE WRETCHES, AND RECEIVE SOME OF THE BEST MATERIAL I EVER

SAW.

Tell Captain Turner to put down on the list of political prisoners the

names of Edward P. Eggling, and Eugenia Hammermister. The President is

anxious that they should get off. They are here now. This, of course,

is between ourselves. If you have any political prisoners whom you can

send off safely to keep her company, I would like you to send her.

Two hundred and odd more political prisoners are on their way.

I would be more full in my communication if I had time. Yours truly,

ROBERT OULD, Commissioner of Exchange.

To Brigadier general John H. Winder.

But, supposing that our Government, for good military reasons, or for no

reason at all, declined to exchange prisoners, what possible excuse is

that for slaughtering them by exquisite tortures? Every Government has

ap unquestioned right to decline exchanging when its military policy

suggests such a course; and such declination conveys no right whatever to

the enemy to slay those prisoners, either outright with the edge of the

sword, or more slowly by inhuman treatment. The Rebels' attempts to

justify their conduct, by the claim that our Government refused to accede

to their wishes in a certain respect, is too preposterous to be made or

listened to by intelligent men.

The whole affair is simply inexcusable, and stands out a foul blot on the

memory of every Rebel in high place in the Confederate Government.

"Vengeance is mine," saith the Lord, and by Him must this great crime be

avenged, if it ever is avenged. It certainly transcends all human power.

I have seen little indication of any Divine interposition to mete out, at

least on this earth, adequate punishment to those who were the principal

agents in that iniquity. Howell Cobb died as peacefully in his bed as

any Christian in the land, and with as few apparent twinges of remorse as

if he had spent his life in good deeds and prayer. The arch-fiend Winder

died in equal tranquility, murmuring some cheerful hope as to his soul's

future. Not one of the ghosts of his hunger-slain hovered around to

embitter his dying moments, as he had theirs. Jefferson Davis "still

lives, a prosperous gentleman," the idol of a large circle of adherents,

the recipient of real estate favors from elderly females of morbid

sympathies, and a man whose mouth is full of plaints of his wrongs,

and misappreciation. The rest of the leading conspirators have either

departed this life in the odor of sanctity, surrounded by sorrowing

friends, or are gliding serenely down the mellow autumnal vale of a

benign old age.

Only Wirz--small, insignificant, miserable Wirz, the underling, the tool,

the servile, brainless, little fetcher-and-carrier of these men, was

punished--was hanged, and upon the narrow shoulders of this pitiful

scapegoat was packed the entire sin of Jefferson Davis and his crew.

What a farce!

A petty little Captain made to expiate the crimes of Generals, Cabinet

Officers, and a President. How absurd!

But I do not ask for vengeance. I do not ask for retribution for one of

those thousands of dead comrades, the glitter of whose sightless eyes

will follow me through life. I do not desire even justice on the still

living authors and accomplices in the deep damnation of their taking off.

I simply ask that the great sacrifices of my dead comrades shall not be

suffered to pass unregarded to irrevocable oblivion; that the example of

their heroic self-abnegation shall not be lost, but the lesson it teaches

be preserved and inculcated into the minds of their fellow-countrymen,

that future generations may profit by it, and others be as ready to die

for right and honor and good government as they were. And it seems to me

that if we are to appreciate their virtues, we must loathe and hold up to

opprobrium those evil men whose malignity made all their sacrifices

necessary. I cannot understand what good self-sacrifice and heroic

example are to serve in this world, if they are to be followed by such a

maudlin confusion of ideas as now threatens to obliterate all distinction

between the men who fought and died for the Right and those who resisted

them for the Wrong.

Andersonville: A Story of Rebel Military Prisons — Volume 4 · 第 21 / 21 章