MY ESCAPE.
Obstacles in the Way of Escape. -- Farewell to Selma. --
Gold _versus_ Confederate Scrip. -- An unnamed Friend. --
Conscription Act. -- Swearing in a Regiment. -- Soldier
shot. -- Chattanooga reached. -- Danger of Recognition. --
Doff the Military. -- Transformation. -- A Bivouac. -- A
Retired Ferryman. -- Conscience _versus_ Gold. -- Casuistry.
-- Embarkation and Voyage. -- Pistols and Persuasion. -- An
unwilling Pilot. -- A Night-reverie. -- My Companion's
Pisgah. -- Selim. -- Secession a destructive Principle. --
Practical Illustration. -- A third Night in the Rocks. --
Home and the Welcome. -- The Dying Deserter. -- One more
Move--but how? -- My Loss and Selim's Gain. -- Off for
Home. -- Federal Officer and Oath of Allegiance. -- Plea for
Treason. -- Sanctity of an Oath. -- _Résumé_. -- Home.
It was now evident that I could not avoid the conscription if I
remained longer, and yet I could not secure my pay; and how could I
travel hundreds of miles without means? I would have sold one of my
horses, but prices were low at Selma, far away from the seat of war,
and the pay must be in Confederate money, which was of little value.
This sacrifice I was unwilling to make, especially as I might need
every dollar I could procure to help me out of Dixie. Other
obstacles lay across the pathway of escape. Every military point was
guarded, and every railroad and public highway under military
control. It was hence impossible for me to escape, traveling in
citizen's dress; and yet I had no military commission, having left
the service when I entered the hospital. I resolved to retain my
officer's cap and martial uniform, and travel as a Confederate
officer on furlough, and if not questioned too closely might
succeed.
On the morning of May 26th I had made all the arrangements possible
for the welfare of my patients, and passing through I looked each in
the face, as a kindly farewell on my part, to which they might
return their adieu some days after, when they "found me missing." I
charged young Dr. Reese to take good care of the men till I
returned, as I thought of taking my horses up the Alabama river to
place them on a farm for pasture. Taking a last look at the
beautiful town of Selma, with a suppressed sigh that I should no
more enjoy the society of its fair ladies, I embarked on the _Great
Republic_ for Montgomery, the capital of the State, and for a time
the capital of the Confederacy. I reached this point in the evening,
having made sixty-five miles toward the north star. I remained at
Montgomery over night, and managed to obtain a military pass and
transportation from this point to Chattanooga, which was now in
possession of a large force of Confederate cavalry, organizing
themselves into guerrilla bands, while the Federal forces held the
north side of the Tennessee. While here it seemed necessary to
exchange my Confederate money into gold, as the only sure means of
paying my way when I should reach the Federal lines. But this was
not easily effected. The Confederates sent their gold to Europe by
millions to buy arms and munitions of war, relying upon the
patriotism of the people to keep up the credit of the national
currency; and lest brokers should undertake to depreciate it, they
passed a law imposing a heavy penalty upon any one who should
discount Confederate notes. For a time this succeeded in keeping up
the credit of the circulating medium; but all gold disappeared, and
silver change was unknown. But as I must have gold, I walked into a
broker's office and stated that I wished to purchase seven ounces of
gold, and exhibited a roll of Confederate notes. After a little
figuring, he said seven ounces would cost me two hundred and seventy
dollars of my money. I replied, "Weigh it out."
"Bullion or coin?"
I answered that coin was more convenient to carry. The coin was
weighed, and I retired, wondering if anybody had broken the law
forbidding the discount of Confederate scrip.
After leaving Montgomery by the railroad train for Chattanooga on
the morning of the 27th, I fell in with a soldier whose name I must
for the sake of his family, who showed me great kindness, conceal.
He said he was going home on furlough. As I then suspected and
afterward learned, he was deserting, while I was escaping. A
fellow-feeling, though at first unconfessed to each other, drew us
together, and at length I learned his whole history. My greater
caution and accustomed reticence, gave him but a meager idea of my
adventures or purposes. His story, reaffirmed to me when near death
some weeks later, is worth recital, especially as it illustrates
both the strength of the Rebel Government, and the desperate lengths
to which they go in pressing men into the service.
The conscription act passed by the Confederate Congress went into
operation on May 16th, 1862. By this law all able-bodied white male
citizens, between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five, were
actually taken into the service; that is, they were taken from their
homes, placed in camps of instruction, and forwarded to the armies
in the field as fast as needed. Another clause of the act required
the enrolling of all between the ages of thirty-five and fifty-five
years, as a reserve militia, to serve in their own State in case of
invasion. As their States have all been "invaded," this virtually
sweeps into the Southern army all white men able to bear arms
between eighteen and fifty-five years of age. Another clause
provided that all persons then in the army, under eighteen and over
thirty-five, might return home discharged from the service within
ninety days after the act took effect, _provided_, their regiments
were filled up with conscripts. By this provision the regiments
would be kept full. Still another clause directed that the
twelve-months men now in the service, should "be allowed" (i.e.,
_required_), "at the expiration of their twelve months to elect new
officers, and take the oath for two years or the war." Under this
last clause, the reorganization of the twelve-months volunteers was
going forward at Corinth, when the Fifth Tennessee regiment of
volunteers, composed of Warren county boys, Colonel J.B. Hill
commanding, determined they would not be forced to continue their
service, and especially out of their own State. Before this
determination had entirely taken form the officers were apprised of
the disaffection, and resolved, with true military decision, to
forestall the threatened mutiny. The regiment was marched out some
distance from camp and drilled for an hour or two, and then allowed
to stack arms and return to camp for dinner. While in camp their
arms were removed, and 30,000 men drawn up: 15,000 on each side of
a hollow square, with a battery of ten field-pieces loaded with
grape, gunners at their post, occupying a third side, while the
fourth was open. Into this space the regiment was marched, without
arms, and requested, _all of them who were free to do so_, to take
the oath. After its administration to the regiment in a body, the
colonel said if there were any members who had not voluntarily
sworn, they could step out in front of the ranks. Six men advanced,
two of them brothers, and remonstrated that they had cheerfully
volunteered for one year, had served faithfully, and endured every
hardship without complaint and without furlough; had left their
families without means of support, who must now be suffering; that
if allowed to go home and rest and make some provision for wife and
children, they would then return. Colonel Hill, who was from the
neighborhood of these men, knew the truth and felt the force of
their arguments, and was trying by kindness to satisfy their minds,
when General Beauregard rode up and asked--
"Colonel Hill, do these men refuse to swear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Unless they comply, have them shot to-morrow morning at ten
o'clock," said the general, and rode away.
Before ten o'clock they had all taken the oath; but one of the two
brothers, in his rage, declared he would desert. For this he would
have been shot, had he not acknowledged himself wrong and professed
penitence, though his resolution remained unshaken.
Some days after, this brother was placed upon picket duty, and, as
the night came on, he attempted to pass out through the lines of
cavalry pickets, when he was shot in the side, but not dangerously
wounded as he then thought. He crawled back into his own line, and
then reported himself as shot by a Federal picket. He was taken to
camp, the ball extracted, and he sent to Atlanta, Georgia, to
hospital. From this place he escaped and reached Montgomery on his
way back to Warren county, Tennessee. His wound healed externally.
This was the deserting soldier I met on the cars as we left
Montgomery for Chattanooga. I put him in temporary possession of one
of my horses; we united our destinies, and prepared for the future
as well as we could.
We reached Chattanooga on June 1st, and I found it, to my chagrin, a
military camp, containing 7,500 cavalry, under strict military rule.
We were now in a trap, as our pass here ended, and we were near the
Federal lines. How to get out of the town was now the problem, and
one of the most difficult I had yet met in my study of Rebel
topography. We put up at the Crutchfield House, stabled our horses,
and sat about in the bar-room, saying nothing to attract attention,
but getting all the information possible. I was specially careful
not to be recognized. The cavalry company I had commanded on the
long retreat from Nashville, was in Chattanooga at this time. Had
any one of them seen me, my position would have been doubly
critical; as it was, I felt the need of circumspection. It was clear
to me that we could not leave Chattanooga in military garb, as we
had entered it, for, without a pass, no cavalryman could leave the
lines. This settled, a walk along the street, showed me a Jew
clothing-store, with suits new and old, military and agricultural.
My resolution was formed, and I went to the stable, taking with me a
newly fledged cavalry officer, who needed and was able to pay for an
elegant cavalry saddle. Being "hard up" for cash, I must sell: and
he flush of money and pride, must buy. Thus I was rid of one chief
evidence of the military profession. A small portion of the price
purchased a plain farmer-like saddle and bridle. An accommodating
dealer in clothes next made me look quite like a country farmer of
the middle class. My companion was equally successful in
transforming himself, and in the dusk of the evening we were passing
out to the country as farmers who had been in to see the sights.
We safely reached and passed the outer pickets, and then took to the
woods, and struck in toward the Tennessee river, hoping to find a
ferry where money, backed, if necessary, by the moral suasion of
pistols, would put us across. I was growing desperate, and
determined not to be foiled. We made some twelve miles, and then
rested in the woods till morning, when selecting the safest
hiding-place I could find, I left my companion with the horses and
started out on a reconnoissance.
Trudging along a road in the direction of the river, I met a
guileless man who gave me some information of the name and locality
of a ferryman, who had formerly acted in that capacity, though now
no one was allowed to cross. Carefully noting all the facts I could
draw out of this man, I strolled on and soon fell in with another,
and gained additional light, one item of which was that the old
"flat" lay near, and just below, the ferryman's house. Thus
enlightened, I walked on and found the house and my breakfast. Being
a traveler, I secured without suspicion sandwiches enough to supply
my companion with dinner and supper, which he enjoyed as he took
care of the horses in the woods. A circuitous route brought me to
them, and I was pleased to see the horses making a good meal from
the abundant grass. This was an important point, as our lives might
yet depend upon their speed and endurance.
I laid before my companion the rather dubious prospect, that the
orders were strict that no man should be ferried across the river;
the ferryman was faithful to the South; he had been conscientious in
his refusal to many applications; no sum would induce him to risk
his neck, &c. All this I had heard from his lips, backed with a
_quantum sufficit_ of oaths, which for once I was rather willing to
hear, having already learned that the man who accompanies his
statements with a gratuitous and profuse profanity, is not usually
brave to make them good when the trial comes. To his boastful words
that "no white-livered traitor to the Southern cause should ever
cross that ferry to give information to the Yankees," I fully
assented, and advised him, to be doubly on his guard, as the
Federals were not far off, not hinting that _I_ wanted to cross. Yet
my purpose was formed: we must cross the river that night, and this
man must take us over, as there was no other hope of escape. Having
laid the plan before my companion, as evening drew on I again
sought the cabin of the retired ferryman. My second appearance was
explained by the statement that I had got off the road, and
wandering in the woods, had come round to the same place. This was
literally true, though I must admit it did not give to him an
impression of the whole truth. A rigid casuist might question the
truthfulness of my statement to the Secession ferryman; but a man
fleeing for his life, and hunted by a relentless enemy, has not much
time to settle questions in casuistry.
After taking supper with the ferryman, we walked out smoking and
chatting. By degrees I succeeded in taking him down near the ferry,
and there sat down on the bank to try the effect upon his avaricious
heart of the sight of some gold which I had purchased at Montgomery.
His eyes glistened as he examined an eagle with unwonted eagerness,
while we talked of the uncertain value of paper-money, and the
probable future value of Confederate scrip.
As the time drew near when my companion, according to agreement, was
to ride boldly to the river, I stepped down to take a look at his
unused flat. He, of course, walked with me. While standing with my
foot upon the end of his boat, I heard the tramp of the horses, and
said to him, in a quiet tone--"Here is an eagle; you must take me
and my companion over." He remonstrated, and could not risk his life
for that, &c. Another ten dollars was demanded and paid, the horses
were in the flat, and in two minutes we were off for--home.
During that dark and uncertain voyage, I had time not only to coax
into quietness my restive horse, but also to conclude that it would
never do to dismiss our Charon on the other bank, as half an hour
might put on our track a squad of cavalry, who, in our ignorance of
the roads and country, would soon return us to Rebeldom and a rope.
A man who would take twenty dollars for twenty minutes' work, after
swearing that his conscience would not allow him to disobey the
authorities, was not to be trusted out of your sight. Standing near
my companion, I whispered--"This man must pilot us to some point you
will know." I should have stated that this deserting soldier was
within sixty miles of his home, and had some knowledge of the
localities not far north from our present position. With this
purpose, I arranged, when we touched the bank, to be in the rear of
the ferryman, and followed him as he stepped off the boat, to take
breath before a return pull. "Now, my good fellow," said I, "you
have done us one good turn for pay, you must do another for
friendship. We are strangers here, and you must take us to the foot
of Waldon's Ridge, and then we will release you." To this demand he
demurred most vigorously; but my determined position between him and
the boat, gentle words, and an eloquent exhibition of my
six-shooter, the sheen of which the moonlight enabled him to
perceive, soon ended the parley, and onward he moved. We kept him in
the road slightly ahead of us, with our horses on his two flanks,
and chatted as sociably as the circumstances would permit. I am not
careful to justify this constrained service exacted of the ferryman,
further than to say, that I was now visiting upon the head, or
rather the legs, of a real Secessionist, for an hour or two, just
what for many months they had inflicted upon me. For six long miles
we guarded our prisoner-pilot, and, reaching the foot of the
mountain, the summit of which would reveal to my friend localities
which he could recognize, and from which he could tell our bearings
and distances, we called a halt. After apologizing for our rudeness
on the plea of self-preservation, and thanking him for his enforced
service, we bade him good-night, not doubting that he would reach
the river in time to ferry himself over before daylight, and console
his frightened wife by the sight of the golden bribe.
We were now, at eleven o'clock at night, under the shadow of a dark
mountain, and with no knowledge of the course we were to take, other
than the general purpose of pressing northward.
After making some miles of headway and rising several hundred feet,
we struck off at a right angle from the road, worked our way for a
mile among the rocks, and tying our horses, lay down under an
overhanging cliff and tried to sleep. But I wooed Somnus in vain.
My brain and heart were too full. On the verge of a Canaan, for
which I had looked and struggled daring thirteen wearisome months,
would I now reach it in peace, or must other perils be encountered,
and I perhaps thrust back into a dungeon to meet a deserter's fate?
The future was still uncertain, and my mind turned backward,
recalling childhood's joys and a mother's undying love. Oh, how I
longed for one gentle caress from her soft hand to soothe me into
sleep, and how vividly came back to my memory words committed long
ago,--words which, with slight change, tenderly expressed the
longing of my spirit that night. I sank into forgetfulness,
repeating over and over those sweet strains:
"Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight;
Make me a child again, just for to-night!
Mother, come back from the far-distant shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep,--
Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep.
"Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toils and of tears,
Toil without recompense,--tears all in vain,--
Take them, and give me my childhood again.
I have grown weary of dust and decay,
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away,
Weary of sowing for others to reap,--
Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep.
"Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you.
Two weary summers the grass has grown green,
Blossomed, and faded, our faces between;
Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain,
Long I to-night for your presence again;
Come from the silence so long and so deep,--
Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep.
"Over my heart in days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other fondness abides and endures,
Faithful, unselfish, and patient, like yours.
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain;
Slumber's soft dews o'er my heavy lids creep,--
Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep.
"Come, let your brown hair, lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again as of old;
Let it fall over my forehead to-night,
Shading my eyes from the moon's pallid light,
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more
Happily throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly its bright billows sweep,--
Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep.
"Mother, dear mother, the years have been long,
Since last I was hushed by your lullaby song;
Sing then, and unto my soul it shall seem
That the years of my boyhood have been but a dream;
Clasp your lost son in a loving embrace,
Your love-lighted lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to part or to weep,--
Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep."
On the morning of June the third the sun rose beautifully over the
Cumberland Mountains, flooding the valley of the Sequatchie, as we
descended into it with lighter hearts than we had felt for many a
day. As we rode down the mountain, my companion recognized the
localities in the distance, and described the route which, in so
many miles, would bring us to his father's house. His side hurt him
severely that day, as the hardships of the way had given him a cold,
which threatened to inflame and reopen the wound he had received in
attempting to escape through the cavalry picket. He talked much of
home, and was sure his mother could cure him. Poor fellow! he was
already beyond his mother's help, though I did not then suspect it.
By nine o'clock we reached a farm-house, whose inmates, without
many troublesome inquiries, agreed to feed our half-starved horses
and give us some breakfast. My noble Selim sorely needed food and
grooming, and I could not but wish for a few days of rest for him.
He had been my companion in many a wild dash, and had learned to
respond to my patting of his finely-arched neck with a pricking up
of his ears and a toss of his head, as much as to say, "I am ready."
When first I formed Selim's acquaintance he was wild and
self-willed, and, as already related, gave me a blow upon the knee
from which I have not yet entirely recovered. But I had long ago
forgiven him this unkindness, for he had carried me through all that
terrible retreat from Nashville, had never failed me when a hard and
hazardous scout was on hand, had stood quietly at Corinth while I
lost two of his companions on the battle-field of Shiloh, and then,
as if grateful that I had saved him from their fate, he ever after
served me with entire docility. At Selma he bore me on many a
pleasant jaunt beside some fair one of that pleasant town, and now
he was with proud step bearing me toward my long-desired home. Did
he not deserve my special care?'
Everybody we met was Secession, and took for granted we were. Was I
not demonstrating my sentiments, by seceding from a government which
affirmed the right in its fundamental law?
By the way, if the South could make good their present effort for an
independent national existence, they would immediately change that
provision by which they allow each State to withdraw at pleasure.
The impression among the thinking minds with them is already fixed,
that the principle is destructive of all permanent national
authority, and existence even. A practical and almost fatal
illustration of the principle of secession was given at Corinth just
after the battle of Shiloh.
The Arkansas authorities, fearing the power of the Federal forces,
required all the troops from their State to return home and protect
their own citizens. General Hindman, who commanded the Arkansas
troops, was in favor of returning to their own State; but
Beauregard, as commander-in-chief of the Western army, resisted the
demand. Excitement ran high, and mutiny was imminent for some days.
Nothing but the resolute bearing of General Beauregard, threatening
to shoot the first man who should attempt to leave, saved the Rebel
army from destruction; for if the troops of one State had been
allowed to withdraw on the plea of protecting their own borders, why
should not all? This was well-understood, and hence resisted
resolutely and successfully. At a later day, and as if in pursuance
of a general plan, the Arkansas troops did go home; and thus they
avoided a mutiny, which, had it been fully developed, would have
involved at least 10,000 men. So rigid is the surveillance of the
press, that no publication, so far as I know, was ever made of this
affair, which threatened the disintegration of the whole Rebel army.
To return, we made some thirty miles, and ascending the Cumberland
range in the evening, we again sought rest among the rocks. This we
judged safest, since we knew not who might have seen us during the
day, of an inquiring state of mind, as to our purpose and
destination.
On the morning of June 4th, by a _détour_ to conceal the course from
which we came, and a journey of a dozen of miles, we reached the
home of my wounded friend. I shall not attempt to describe his
tearful, joyful meeting with his mother and three sisters, and the
pride of the good old father as he folded his soldier-boy to his
heart. My own emotions fully occupied me while their greetings
lasted. I thought of my own fond mother, who had not heard from me
for more than a year, and was perhaps then mourning me as dead,
perchance had gone herself to the tomb in grief for the loss of her
first-born son; of my reverend father, whose wise counsel I had
often needed and longed for; of my sweet sisters and little brother,
who every day wondered if their big brother still lived and would
ever come home.
After a kindly greeting to the stranger who had brought home their
wounded son, for they never suspected either that he had deserted or
that I was escaping to the hated Yankees, they introduced me to all
the comforts of their pleasant dwelling; and for the first time for
many months I began to feel somewhat secure. Yet they were all
Secessionists, and talked constantly of the success of the cause,
and I must, of necessity, conceal my views and plans.
The day after our arrival, the wounded soldier took to his bed and
never rose again. The hardships he had endured in the journey home,
acting upon a system enfeebled by his wound, terminated in
inflammation of the lungs, which within a week ended his life. I
watched by his bed, nursed him carefully, and told him what little I
knew of the better world, trying to recall all the sweet words of
comfort I had heard pious people pour into the ears of dying ones in
my childhood, when my father, as pastor, was often called to such
scenes. I was not an experienced counselor, but I knew there was One
Name of sovereign power. That Name I told him of as best I could.
About the 12th of June he passed into the Dark Beyond.
After the funeral ceremonies wore over, a letter came from the other
brother, detailing the manner in which they had been compelled to
swear in for the war, and saying that he would soon be home. He had
not reached when I left there. I fear he failed in his attempt.
But one more step was needed to make me safe; that was, to get
within the Federal lines, take the oath of allegiance, and secure a
pass. But how could this be accomplished? Should the Federal
authorities suspect me of having been in the Rebel service, would
they allow me to take the oath and go my way? I knew not; but well I
knew the Confederate officers were never guilty of such an
absurdity. Judging others by themselves, they put little confidence
in the fact that A.B. has sworn to this or that; and hence they
watch him as carefully after as before. The North should know that
oaths taken by Southerners before provost-marshals, in recovered
cities such as Memphis, Nashville, &c, are not taken to be observed,
as a general rule. They are taken as a matter of necessity, and with
a mental reservation, that when the interests of their State
demands, they are freed from the obligation. That this is a
startling statement I admit, and if called on for the proof I might
find it difficult to produce it; and yet from what I saw and heard
scores of times, and in different parts of the South, I know it to
be indubitably true.
An incident which occurred about the 20th of June, both endangered
my escape and yet put me upon the way of its accomplishment. I rode
my pet Selim into the village of McMinnville, a few miles from the
place of my sojourn, to obtain information as to the proximity of
the Federal forces, and, if possible, devise a plan of getting
within their lines without exciting suspicion. As Selim stood at the
hotel, to the amazement of every one, General Dumont's cavalry
galloped into town, and one of the troopers taking a fancy to my
horse, led him off without my knowledge, and certainly without my
consent. My only consolation was, that my noble Selim was now to do
service in the loyal ranks. My best wish for my good steed is, that
he may carry some brave United States officer over the last
prostrate foe of this ever-glorious Union.
The cavalry left the town in a few hours, after erecting a
flag-staff and giving the Stars and Stripes to the breeze. Within a
few days a squad of Morgan's cavalry came in, cut down the staff,
and one of them rolling up the flag and strapping it behind his
saddle, left word where General Dumont could see the flag if he
chose to call.
I left soon after the Federals did, but in an opposite direction,
with my final plan perfected. Spending two or three days more with
my kind friends on the farm, I saddled my remaining horse, and
telling the family I might not return for some time, I rode through
McMinnville, and then direct for Murfreesboro, at that time in
possession of the Union forces. When hailed by the pickets, a mile
from the town, I told them I wished to see the officer in command.
They directed me where to find him, and allowed me to advance. They
knew far less of Southern cunning than I did, or they would not have
allowed me to ride into the town without a guard. When I found the
officer, I stated that some Federal cavalry had taken my horse in
McMinnville a few days ago, and I wished to recover him. He told me
he could give me no authority to secure my horse, unless I would
take the oath of allegiance to the United States. To this I made no
special objection. With a seeming hesitation, that I might wake up
no suspicion of being different from the masses of farmers in that
region, and yet with a joy that was almost too great to be
concealed, I solemnly subscribed the following oath:
"I, A---- B----, solemnly swear, without any mental reservation or
evasion, that I will support the Constitution of the United States
and the laws made in pursuance thereof; and that I will not take up
arms against the United States, or give aid or comfort, or furnish
information, directly or indirectly, to any person or persons
belonging to any of the so-styled Confederate States who are now or
may be in rebellion against the United States. So help me God."
The other side of the paper contained a military pass, by authority
of Lieutenant-colonel J.G. Parkhurst, Military Governor of
Murfreesboro. I regarded myself as free from any possible
obligation to the Confederates when discharged from their service on
account of my wounds at Corinth. In voluntarily taking this oath, I
trust I had some just sense of its awful solemnity, for I have never
been able to look upon the appeal to God in this judicial form as a
light matter. How good men can, satisfy their consciences for the
deliberate violation of the oaths which so many of them have
deliberately taken to support the Constitution of the United States,
I know not. I know what they say in self-defence, for I have often
listened to their special pleading. The [Greek: prôton pseudos], as
my good Professor Owen of the Free Academy would term it--the
foundation falsehood--of the whole Secession movement, is the
doctrine of State Rights, as held by the South. "I owe _allegiance_
to my State, and, when it commands, _obedience_ to the United
States." This idea has complete possession of the leading minds, and
a belief in it accounts for the conduct of many noble men, who
resisted Secession resolutely until their State was carried for the
Rebellion. Whenever a State act was passed they yielded, and the
people were a unit.
In addition to this fundamental error, they aver that they are
engaged in a revolution, not a rebellion; and that the right of
revolution is conceded, even by the North, now endeavoring to force
them back into an oppressive and hated union; and that if we justify
our fathers in forswearing allegiance to the British crown, we
should not condemn the South in refusing obedience to a Union
already dissolved. If this were as good an argument as it is a
fallacious one, ignoring as it does the total dissimilarity in the
two cases, and assuming falsely that the Union is already dissolved,
it fails to justify the individual oath-breaking of many of the
leaders in the revolt. They swore to support the Constitution of the
United States at the very time they were meaning to destroy it. Some
of them took the oath as Cabinet officers and members of Congress,
that they might have the better opportunity to overthrow the
government. The truth must be admitted--and here lies the darkest
blot upon the characters of the arch-conspirators--they know not
the sanctity of an oath, nor regard its solemn pledges and
imprecations. They have shown, it has been eloquently said, the
utmost recklessness respecting the oath of allegiance to the nation.
Men who sneered at the North as teaching a higher law to God which
should be paramount to all terrene statutes, have been themselves
among the first to hold the supreme law of the land and their oath
of fealty and loyalty to that land, abrogated by the lower law of
State claims and State interests. It could not be sin in the man of
the North, if God and his country ever clashed, to say, that well as
he loved his country, he loved his God yet more. But what plea shall
shield the sin which claims to love one's own petty State better
than either country or God? They have virtually tunneled and
honey-combed into ruin the fundamental obligations of the citizen.
Jesuitism had made itself a name of reproach by the doctrine of
mental reservation, under which the Jesuit held himself absolved
from oaths of true witness-bearing, which he at any time had taken
to the nation and to God, if the truth to be told harmed the
interests of his own order, whose interests he must shield by a
silent reservation. The lesser caste, the ecclesiastical clique,
thus was held paramount to the entire nation; and oaths of fidelity
to the religious order, a mere handful of God's creatures, rode over
the rights of the God whose name had been invoked to witness
truth-telling, and over the rights of God's whole race of mankind,
to have the truth told in their courts by those who had solemnly
proclaimed and deliberately sworn that they would tell and were
telling it. The State loyalty as being a mental reservation evermore
to abrogate the oath of National loyalty:--what is it but a modern
reproduction of the old Jesuit portent?
But perjury however palliated, and whether in Old World despots or
in New World anarchists, involves, in the dread language of
Scripture, the being "clothed with cursing as with a garment." That
terrible phrase of inspiration describes, we suppose, not merely
profuse profanity, but the earthly deception which attracts the
heavenly malediction, the reply of a mocked God to a defiant
transgressor, vengeance invoked, and the invocation answered. "SO
HELP ME GOD!" is a phrase so often heard in jury-boxes and
custom-houses, beside the ballot-box, and in the assumption of each
civil office, that we do not at all times gauge its dread depth of
meaning. It is not a mere prayer of help to tell the truth, but like
the kindred Hebrew words, "So do God to me and more also!" it is an
invocation of His vengeance and an abjuration of all His further
favor if we palter with the truth. It means, "If I speak not truly
and mean not sincerely, so do I forswear and renounce henceforth all
help from God. I hope not His help in the cares of life. I hope not
His help for the pardon of sin. I ask not His grace,--nor hope from
His smile in death,--nor help at His hand into His eternal and holy
heavens. All the aid man needs to ask, all the aid which God has to
the asking heretofore lent, I distinctly surrender, if He the
truth-seeing sees me now truth-wresting." Now the risk of trifling
with such a thunderbolt is not small. The many noble, excellent, and
Christian men, who may have been heedlessly involved in this
Rebellion, in spite of past oaths to the nation, it is not our task
to judge. But the act itself, of disregarding such sworn loyalty to
their whole country,--the act in its general principles apart from
all personal partakers in it,--we may and we must ponder. Now in
this respect, if these views of our national oaths be just, our
present Rebellion has not been merely treasonable, but its
cradle-wrappings, its very swaddling-bands, have been manifold
layers of perjury,--its infancy has been "clad with cursing as with
a garment."[*] Can a jealous God consolidate and perpetuate a power
commenced in perjury?
[* Rev. W.R. Williams, D.D.]
After taking the oath, I told the officer that there were from seven
to ten thousand Rebel cavalry at Chattanooga, a detachment of whom
would surprise him some morning if he was not wide awake.
Having performed this first loyal act under my oath, I went out in
search of Selim. He was not to be found in Murfreesboro, and a
further search would have consumed time and thrown me back toward
the Rebel lines. Overjoyed at my escape from the last danger, and
not reluctant to make this contribution to the cause of my country,
I turned my now buoyant steps homeward, under the protection of the
Stars and Stripes. I rode into Nashville the 28th of June, with
feelings widely different from those which crowded my breast when
four months before I had ridden out of it in the rear of General
Johnson's retreating army. I was then, though pleased with the
excitement and dash of cavalry service, in a cause where my heart
was not, in a retreat from my own friends, and becoming daily more
identified in the minds of others with the Rebellion; now I was free
from its trammels, with my face toward my long-lost home, with a
wish in my heart, which has grown more intense daily, to aid my
country in her perilous struggle.
A few hours at Nashville enabled me to see my father's friend, who
had treated me so kindly when sick, and again thank him for his good
deeds, and then I left for home.
I will not ask the reader to follow me in my rapid journey through
Louisville and Cincinnati, and thence to New York. Nor need I
describe my joyful, tearful, welcome reception by father, mother,
sisters, and brother, as of one alive from the dead.
The story of my life in Secessiondom is ended. If the foregoing
pages, beside depicting my personal experience, have given any facts
of value to my bleeding country--facts as to the diabolical
barbarism of Southern society in trampling upon all personal
rights--facts showing the intense and resolute earnestness of the
whole Southern people in the Rebellion--facts demonstrating the
large resources of the Rebels in arms and men, and the absolute
military despotism which has combined and concentrated their
power--facts of the atrocious character of the guerrilla system
organized and legalized among them--facts exhibiting the efficiency
of every arm of their military service--facts showing the necessity
of restrictions upon the freedom of the press in times of war--facts
revealing the demoralizing influence of the doctrine of State
Rights in nullifying national fealty, and disregarding the
sanctities of an oath--facts which, if universally known and duly
regarded, would stir the North to a profounder sense of the
desperate and deadly struggle in which they are engaged than they
have ever yet felt--then my time and labor will not have been spent
in vain.
THE END.