SERAINE WHITCOMB'S EXAMINATION OF THE REBEL PRISONS AND
HENRY LYON'S RELEASE.--MAN'S INHUMANITY.--SERAINE WHITCOMB
VISITS THE SOUTHERN PRISON PENS.--A SAD TALE OF WOE.--
GRAPHIC PICTURE OF SUFFERING, WRETCHEDNESS AND DEATH.
“Oh war, thou son of hell,
Whom angry heavens do make their ministers,
Throw in the frozen bosoms of our past,
Hot coals of vengeance.”
--Shakespeare.
Uncle Daniel Lyon resumed his story by giving us a history of the
adventures of Miss Seraine Whitcomb, who, as had been discovered, was
the sister of James Whitcomb, now Aide-de-Camp to Gen. Anderson. He
continued by saying:
“Miss Seraine's journey to Richmond was accomplished by overcoming the
greatest of difficulties. The President's authority was good at every
point in and through the Union lines. But when she reached the rebel
pickets at or near the Rapidan she was placed under arrest as a spy, and
taken to the headquarters of the commander of the rebel army. She then
stated her case in a modest way, presenting the note given to her by our
President. Her story was so simple and reasonable that she was permitted
to enter Richmond in order to lay her case before President Davis.
At the same time the authorities at the rebel army headquarters had a
lurking suspicion of her on account of (as they thought) her pretended
perilous undertaking. Yet she was conducted to Richmond, and there took
lodgings at the Virginia Hotel, where she was subjected to a constant
watch over her every movement. She was in much doubt for several days
what course to pursue. There was great activity going on in making
preparations for some movement of the rebel army. She was not permitted
to leave her hotel.
“She finally wrote a note to President Davis, stating that she wished to
be permitted to have an interview with him on a matter of grave import
to her; that she was alone and under a vigilant watch; that she thought
she could satisfy him of her harmless intentions.
“To this she received a very polite answer permitting her to see him at
11 o'clock the following day, and informing her that he would send an
escort.
“The next day, promptly at the time, an officer appeared and inquired if
Miss Seraine Whitcomb was in. She readily responded, and directed
that he be admitted. Presenting himself, he said he was Capt. T. P.
Redingson. The arrangements were soon agreed upon, and the two started
for the Executive office. The detention in the ante-room was-but slight,
before they were ushered into the presence of Mr. Davis. Seraine said he
was seated in an arm-chair, rather oldish and common. Mr. Davis rose
and greeted her pleasantly. He looked care-worn and haggard, and seemed
thoughtful; but at no time during the interview did he forget his
genial, polite manner toward her. She hardly knew what to say. After a
short time he broke the ice by asking her if he could serve her in any
way. She gained courage enough to tell him her whole story. She told him
she would not give information of any kind to any one in reference to
what she might see or hear while under his protection; that she wished
to examine the prison records for the name of her friend, Henry Lyon,
who she hoped, through his kindness, to find, and have exchanged.
“She seemed to touch a tender spot in his nature. He gave her a letter of
safe conduct through all the rebel lines, and authority to examine the
prisons and hospitals, exacting at the same time a pledge from her that
she would, when satisfied, return by way of Richmond and make a report
to him of all she should see and hear that was of interest in connection
with the prisons, the army, or other kindred subjects. With this
understanding and pledge on her part she gave him her thanks, with many
good wishes for his health. She then bade him good, good-by and returned
to her hotel.
“Capt. Redingson, her escort, was very polite to her, and promised that
he would call the next day and make arrangements for her to visit the
prisons and examine the records or rolls of prisoners in Richmond. The
next day at ten o'clock the Captain called and escorted her to Libby.
There she saw such suffering as made her almost frantic, but she
indulged in no remarks. As she passed along the pallets of rotten straw,
the tears would roll down the sunken cheeks of their occupants as she
uttered some kind word to them. The rolls did not disclose the name of
the one for whom she was in search, and she returned with the Captain
to her hotel. That night she could not sleep. She had seen that day such
sights as she had never expected to witness, and could not have believed
had she not looked upon them with her own eyes. Men eating rotten food;
many, very many, sick, sore and distressed; quite a number without
sufficient clothes to cover their persons; no blankets; no way to
send word to friends; no privileges granted, their treatment harsh and
brutal. For the least delinquency inhuman punishment was inflicted. No
prospect of help or relief of any kind. All kinds of stories were
told them of disasters to the 'Yanks,' as the rebels called the Union
soldiers. It was really a sickening sight to behold.
“The next day they visited Belle Isle, and there found the same
condition of things. After an examination of records they returned to
the Virginia Hotel. Miss Seraine then concluded to leave for Salisbury.
She asked the Captain if he would be kind enough to see to getting her
tickets and placing her properly in charge of the conductor, with such
instructions as might enable her to avoid annoyance on her route. The
next morning she was feeling dull and heavy on account of having passed
a restless night. The shadows of that which she had seen during the day
were continually before her eyes. She got ready, however, and was
soon put on the train by Capt. Redingson, who knew the conductor and
explained to him her situation and desire to avoid annoyances. Then
bidding the Captain good-by, with many thanks for his kindness, she sat
down in the car to pursue her weary journey, with many ill forebodings.
She looked out of the window over valley, hill and stream, and as she
passed on through that picturesque country her eyes fairly feasted on
the majestic scenery beautified by the pines that tower heavenward along
the line of the railroad.
“In her loneliness she could not resist the floodtide of hopes and fears
that swept through her mind--now hoping and then fearing that she would
not find Henry. If she should, would he be in the condition of the poor,
starved skeletons she had seen at Libby and Belle Isle? Could it be
possible that her lovable and gentle Henry could be so starved and
harshly treated by these people, who had been so polite and kind to her?
'No! no!' she thought to herself; 'it cannot be.' The train sped along,
and at night she was in Salisbury. There she was taken to a hotel of
limited accommodations and worse attendance, as it was of the character
so common to that country in the days of slavery. Quite a number of
sick rebel officers, who had been sent there to recuperate, were in the
hotel.
“The next morning it was discovered that a female 'Yank' was in
the house, and, the gossips whispered 'a spy!' Miss Seraine was
unsuspecting, and acted as if she had been a mere traveler in her own
State. But very soon an officer came and sat down by her and began a
series of questions, all of which she answered frankly. She told him her
mission, and made inquiry about the prisoners there, wishing to look
for her friend, Henry Lyon. This officer left her and went to the
authorities and had her put under arrest. At this she was frightened
almost out of her wits. She wept and begged, but nothing would do but
she must have her baggage (merely a satchel) examined. This done, they
sent a lady with her to her room and searched her person. Being so much
alarmed, she did not think of her letter from Mr. Davis. This was found
in her pocket and declared a forgery, as they thought if genuine she
would have produced it sooner. Finally the conductor who had brought
the train through from Richmond returned, and finding how matters were,
relieved her situation by-explaining it to the authorities. The
officers and Mayor then hastened to make apologies for their action and
afterwards treated her very kindly, and offered her every facility for
the examination desired. Her search at the place was as fruitless as
heretofore. She found the condition of things here as elsewhere with our
poor prisoners--nothing but extreme suffering and ill treatment. It was
hard for her to understand how any civilized people could find it in
their hearts to treat human beings so barbarously.
“She left Salisbury the first moment it was-possible for her to do so,
and made her way in great sadness to Pine Forest Prison, meeting with
many perplexing things on the way. As she neared Pine Forest she became
nervous and almost sick with fear that her mission would be a failure.
Her strength and resolution all at once seemed to fail her. But on she
went, between hope and despair. En route to this horrible place, all
kinds of phantoms rose before her mind. She would first see a starved
human being, and then a wild beast pursuing him; then the butchery and
murder of the victim; so that when she arrived at the village she was
almost frantic and nearly insane. A gentleman, seeing her lonely
and peculiar situation, assisted her to a house, where she procured
quarters.
“It was not until the next morning that she made known her desire to
visit the prison. The lady of the house seemed to take in the situation,
and, instead of regarding her as a spy, felt a sympathy for her and
willingly rendered her all the assistance she could. Miss Seraine
told her whole story to her, and sought her aid in making the proper
investigation. This lady, Mrs. Lawton, made all necessary arrangements
for the two to visit the Superintendent at three o'clock that
afternoon. Promptly at that hour they started, and when they entered the
Superintendent's office outside the prison-pen they were received most
courteously by Mr. Hibbard. At the same time his face wore an expression
that made Miss Seraine shudder. His movements were sluggish, his manner
uneasy. She hastened to make known to him the cause of her visit, and
at the same time presented Mr. Davis's letter. He scanned the paper very
closely without making any remark. The arrangement being made to come at
twelve o'clock the next day, they returned to Mrs. Lawton's house.
“Mrs. Lawton was kind, and readily engaged in conversation, giving the
most horrible description and picture of the prison and the inhuman
treatment the prisoners were receiving. Seraine was silent, and
refrained from expressing opinions or making any remarks save to say
that she had been treated with great kindness and consideration by the
officers she had met. Mrs. Lawton gave her to understand that she had
great sympathy for the prisoners, and that she was not entirely in
harmony with the rebellion, although she had been a sufferer by the war,
having lost her husband in the Confederate service. She said she was
living there merely to make what she could by selling things to the
soldiers when she was permitted to do so. She had a great contempt for
Mr. Hibbard, then keeper of the prison. It seems Hibbard was only there
temporarily.
“Miss Seraine slept but little that night,--she was so eager to
ascertain if Henry was, or if he had been, there. Next morning she arose
early and was ready for breakfast, though she ate but little. When
the hour of twelve o'clock arrived she and Mrs. Lawton repaired to the
office of Mr. Hibbard as per appointment. They were received in a very
polite manner, and informed that a guard would be sent through the
grounds with them. They asked if he could not accompany them, as they
were very timid about passing through without his presence. He finally
consented to attend them as guide and protector.
“'On first entering at the south gate they met a stench that almost
stifled them. As they passed along they saw the prisoners in groups,
standing and gazing at them with a stare like that of maniacs. Some were
moderately well clad, others almost in a state of nudity. The pen, for
that was what it really was, was in the most filthy condition that human
mind could imagine. As they passed along they could see the blush of
shame mantle the cheek of their escort. They walked through the
center of the grounds, being the dryest and most cleanly. To describe
accurately the suffering of the men, the filthy condition of this pen,
and the ghastly looks of those poor creatures, was more than any tongue
or pen could do. They came to where a portion of the sick were lying
under a very poor shelter, and there saw sick men with but little
clothing and in all the conditions of human suffering possible. Many
were covered with ulcers from scurvy, some were sick with fever, some
with their teeth dropping out, some dying with dysentery, some with old
wounds not healed, some with fresh ones made by their brutal keepers,
and nearly all were literally swarming with vermin.
“Miss Seraine became so sick at these sights that she was almost
fainting, and asked to return to the house and be permitted to come
earlier the next day, so as not to be in the pen during the midday
heat. Her request was granted, and they left the prison. She was greatly
alarmed for fear she would find Henry among this suffering class of sick
men. The next day they entered the prison at nine o'clock, and passing
around on the north side of the grounds found many cooking and eating
their meals. There were no satisfactory conveniences for cooking. A
little fire and a few pans and cups were all. The meat, what little they
had, was broiled on coals. Many took their meal and stirred it in a cup
with the most disagreeable water ever used, and drank it down
without cooking. Hundreds had died within a few days--some from sheer
starvation, as they could no longer take the food into their stomachs;
some from scurvy, some from fever, and some were murdered by the
guards for passing beyond where ordered. How any one could live in that
polluted and poisonous atmosphere was the wonder. In the inclosure there
was a dirty, swampy piece of ground, with water stinking with filth of a
character sickening to behold. When the rain fell all were subjected to
the drenching cold bath. On the ground and in the mud and the damp they
lay. Many were there who during the prior Winter had been so exposed
as to have their feet frozen, until in many instances they were rotting
off.
“These sights were so shocking in all respects that Miss Seraine was
afraid to speak, (except to say a kind word, when permitted to do so,)
to any of the unfortunate men. It seemed to her that Hibbard knew where
Henry was, but was avoiding bringing her into his presence. So she said
not a word, but looked well at all in view as she passed along.
“The punishments for any and every little breach of discipline were of
the most outrageous character. She saw many persons with their hands
tied behind them, and others standing, with their thumbs run through
loops of cords tied up to posts. The guards were insolent and were
constantly damning the prisoners. Take it altogether--their dirty,
filthy food, their mode of cooking, their scanty rations, their clothes,
the stinking water they were forced to use, the treatment of the sick,
the punishments they were compelled to bear, the dirty, vile pen they
were in, and the poisonous atmosphere they were forced to breathe, there
is no account anywhere in the barbarous ages that ever did or could
equal Pine Forest Prison.
“Miss Seraine became sick and tired of the horrible sights, and at last
said to Mr. Hibbard that she did not wish to go around any more to look
upon the suffering prisoners, but desired to be taken where Mr. Lyon
was, if in the prison. He replied that he thought he was in the main
hospital. They directed their steps thither. On entering it she beheld
so many ghastly men at one view that she recoiled, and for a moment
hesitated. Recovering herself she proceeded. While passing along she
beheld a young man with sunken eyes, pale and ashy cheeks, lying on a
board cot, so emaciated that she had no thought of who it could be.
But in a moment she heard her name whispered, and saw a lean, bony hand
reaching out towards her. She looked at him, took his cold, withered
hand, and spoke to him, asking if she could do anything for him. He
said:
“'I am Henry Lyon, Seraine. Do you not recognize me?'
“She fell into Mrs. Lawton's arms, exclaiming: 'My God!' When she
revived she fell upon Henry's neck and wept bitterly, exclaiming:
“'My Henry! my Henry! Can it be possible, can it be possible?'
“After some little conversation between them, she telling him that all
were well at home, etc., Hibbard informed her that the rules of the
prison would not allow any further interview at present.”
“What a brute,” interrupted Dr. Adams.
“Miss Seraine asked to see Surgeon Jones. She ascertained that Henry was
just recovering from an attack of typhoid fever and was now out of
danger. She obtained permission from the Surgeon to visit him daily
while she remained, and to bring him certain delicacies to eat. She then
returned to Henry and bade him an affectionate good-by, with a promise
to see him again. With a sad heart she retraced her steps to Mrs.
Lawton's. Retiring to her room she gave way to her grief and spent the
remainder of the day in tears.
[Illustration: Seraine with Henry at Pine Forest Prison 258]
“The following day Mrs. Lawton again accompanied Seraine to the
prison-pen. They took some wine and cake to Henry. After being refreshed
he and Seraine had a long and pleasant interview, in which Seraine told
Henry all about her trip, etc. She told him she had decided to leave
soon for Richmond, and thence for home, but would try and arrange with
the Surgeon, (who seemed to have some humanity left,) for Mrs. Lawton to
visit and bring him some nourishment. The prison and the sights beheld
by her had quite affected her nerves. On returning to Mrs. Lawton's
she was suffering with a violent headache, and, going to her room, she
remained in bed for three days.
“Mrs. Lawton was very kind. She sat by her bedside and gave her a
detailed account of her own trials. She was a daughter of a Union man,
and had never lost her veneration for her country and the old flag.
Although her husband had lost his life in the Confederate army, she had
not changed her smothered feelings for the Union. She related to Seraine
the many villainous outrages perpetrated upon the Union prisoners by
the inhuman keepers and guards of this vile den. She told graphically
of seven fine-looking young men who were brought out of the prison for
attempting to escape, and shot in the presence of a crowd of jeering
devils. Said she:
“'If a man wishes to learn of “man's inhumanity to man,” this is the
place.'
“She expressed her great desire to leave the place, as it was like
dwelling on the verge of the prison for the souls of the damned. Seraine
talked to her of her mission and what she desired to accomplish; also
asked her to keep a watchful eye on Henry, and when the time should come
for an exchange of prisoners to remind Hibbard of Henry as one to be
sent away, provided she could arrange the matter. Henry had been a
prisoner now for more than a year, and was naturally near the time for
his exchange if any one would look after the matter. After quite a delay
on account of her being taken sick again, the time came for her to leave
for Richmond, and after thanking Hibbard for his courtesy, and tendering
manifold thanks to Mrs. Lawton for her kindness and great care of her,
as well as leaving some money with Mrs. Lawton for Henry's benefit, and
promising to write from Richmond if permitted to do so, she embraced
Mrs. Lawton as if she were her mother, and with tearful eyes they
separated.
“Soon Seraine was on her way to report to Mr. Davis, President of the C.
S. A., as she had promised to do, and also to effect an early exchange
of prisoners if possible. Her trip was a dreary one. She remained as
quiet as possible, having no one to cheer her on her way. On arriving
at Richmond she again stopped at the Virginia Hotel, and there again met
Capt. Redingson. He expressed pleasure at seeing her, and tendered his
services as escort and protector while in the city. After detailing
some of her experiences on her journey, and thanking him for his former
politeness, and also for his present proffered services, she requested
him to bear her compliments to President Davis and ask for an early
interview, as she had promised to return and report to him. The Captain
readily assented, and on returning that evening informed her that he
would be pleased to accompany her to the Executive Office the next day
at eleven a.m., at which hour President Davis would see her. She was
very anxious and quite nervous until the time arrived. Exactly at eleven
o'clock the next day the Captain came for her with a carriage, and very
kindly attended her to the presence of the President.
“Mr. Davis met her with cordiality. He spoke to her about her perilous
undertaking, and hoped she had been treated kindly by his people. He
also inquired as to her success in finding her friend, to all of which
she responded that her treatment was kind, and her efforts were so far
crowned with success. She gave him an account of her journey and visits
to the prisons; her examination of them, and finally her success in
finding Henry at Pine Forest. She told him the truth about the prisons,
the food, raiment, and treatment of the prisoners. He answered in a
manner rather tender, and feelingly expressed his desire to have matters
in this direction improved, but regretted the impossibility of doing all
things as we might desire to have them done. He spoke of the barbarism
of war and its attendant cruelties. But he soon changed the subject,
after thanking her for her honesty and for having the nerve to tell him
the truth.
“He then inquired what she desired in reference to her friend. She asked
for his release as the only means of saving his life. He responded that
he would order his exchange at once, and promised her that he should be
on the first boat or train sent North with prisoners. He also gave her
permission to write to Mrs. Lawton on this subject, provided she did not
use his name in connection with this promise. He then gave her a letter
of safe conduct through his lines and detailed Capt. Redingson to go
with her to our lines. Having accomplished the object for which she had
gone South, and reported fully and truthfully to Mr. Davis as she had
promised to do, she took leave of him with her best wishes for his
personal welfare. He bade her farewell and God-speed in a very kind and
tender manner, so much so that Seraine has ever spoken kindly of him as
a man.
“She repaired to the hotel and told Capt. Redingson that she desired to
leave early the next morning for the Headquarters of the Union army. He
said he would call for her as requested, and they separated. Seraine,
after going to her room, wrote to Mrs. Lawton and inclosed a note
to Henry, merely telling him that she was well and on her way home,
encouraging him to bear up under his sufferings, etc.
“The next morning Capt. Redingson called according to his promise, and
they were off at once for the lines of the armies. On arriving at the
Headquarters of the Confederate army, they were nicely entertained by
the commanding General. They partook of a good meal and then rested for
the night, Seraine being cared for at a farm house near by. The next
morning, on being provided with a pass through the lines, they were
conducted under a flag of truce to the Headquarters of the Union army,
some twenty miles away.
“Seraine was received by the commanding General and taken care of. Capt.
Redingson, after having delivered his charge, returned with Seraine's
blessing for his kindness to her. After she had taken a rest she
conversed with Gen. Meador, who was then in command, and related to
him her experiences, at the same time keeping her promise to speak of
nothing pertaining to the Confederate army or any movements of the
same. After a night's rest she was sent under charge of an escort to
Washington city, where she stopped for several days, until she could
see the President and Secretary of War. She finally managed to have an
interview with the Secretary, and, after explaining who she was and her
mission South, he replied with some nervousness:
“'Henry Lyon' Is he a son of Daniel Lyon, of Allentown, Ind.?'
“On being answered in the affirmative, he exclaimed:
“'My God? what affliction that family has had! His oldest son died
recently, being the third son he has lost since this war began.'
“This was the first knowledge that Seraine had of the sad distress
in the family. She sighed and dropped a tear. The Secretary at once
understood the situation, and told her Henry Lyon should be looked after
and properly cared for. She asked if, when he was exchanged, he could
not be discharged from the service. She said that Mr. Lyon's seven sons
were all in the army, and three having lost their lives, she thought
one ought to remain at home to comfort the parents during their terrible
trials. She struck a tender chord in the Secretary's heart, and he
replied: 'Yes; when he returns, you write me and it shall be done, if he
consents.'
“This brought joy to her very soul. She bade the Secretary good-by,
saying as she left that he would hear from her in due time.
“She then called at the President's and sent in his own letter which he
had given her when she started South, that she might thereby be recalled
to his memory. He sent for her at once. As she entered his office he
arose and greeted her most affectionately, calling her 'my child,' and
bidding her be seated. He commenced plying her with questions, and she
told him the whole story. When she related what she had seen in the
rebel prisons, his countenance saddened and tears fell from his eyes. He
said:
“'This must be remedied somehow. Humanity revolts at retaliation in
kind, but in an instance like this it might be justified.'
“She told him what she desired, and what the Secretary had promised. He
replied:
“'My dear child, it shall be done. My old friend Lyon is making more
sacrifices than should be demanded of any one. I hope you will see
him soon, and when you do, tell him that I often think of him and his
family, as well as what they are doing for their country.'
“The President was a man of generous impulses. He had a very kind heart,
full of sympathy for humanity.
“She left the President with feelings of the deepest affection and
gratitude, having every assurance that her wishes would be complied
with. As she left, he bade her good-by, calling her his 'little
heroine.' From Washington she went to Baltimore, learning that some
prisoners who had been exchanged were to be landed there. She remained
at the Burnett House, most of the time in her room, not wishing to make
any acquaintances, but watching the papers closely to ascertain the time
for the arrival of the prisoners. One evening she learned that a
vessel had come into port with 200 prisoners. She hastened to the dock;
arriving all out of breath, and seeing the large crowd that was waiting
she became very much excited, and observing an officer in uniform she
ventured to speak to him. It was Gen. Shunk, of Ohio. She told him
who she was, and also for whom she was looking. He answered her very
cordially, and said he knew Mr. Daniel Lyon, formerly of Ohio, and
inquired if the person in question was one of his sons. She said he was,
and he told her to wait and he would see, as he was then in command
at Baltimore. In a few moments he came back with the glad tidings that
Henry Lyon was among the prisoners. She was going to rush on board the
vessel, but the General detained her, informing her that it was not
allowable under the orders, but he would bring Henry to her as soon as
possible. Soon she saw Henry coming from the vessel, leaning upon the
arm of a comrade. He seemed to be very weak, and still looked like
a mere shadow. He was brought where she stood, trembling and almost
fearing to meet him lest his mind might have given way somewhat under
the trying ordeal through which he had just passed. She threw her
arms around his neck and wept aloud. A carriage was procured, and she
accompanied him, by permission, to the hospital where he was ordered
to go. Reaching there, he was placed in a nice clean ward. There they
talked matters over, and Henry agreed to the discharge from the service.
Seraine left him with the nurses, saying that she would return as soon
as possible; at the same time he was not to let his people know anything
of his whereabouts. She left that night for Washington.
“The next morning at the earliest hour that she could see the Secretary
of War, she made her appearance. On meeting the Secretary he recognized
her, and asked if she was after the discharge about which she agreed to
write to him. She replied that Henry was now at Baltimore, having been
exchanged. Then she told him of his condition. The Secretary at once
ordered the discharge made out, and as soon as it had passed through
the proper officers' hands and was returned to him he handed it to her,
saying:
“'You deserve this yourself, without any other consideration.'
“She again thanked the Secretary, and at once repaired to the
President's Mansion. When she was admitted, on seeing her the President
guessed from her bright countenance the whole story, and congratulated
her most heartily. She told him all, and showed him Henry's discharge
and thanked him for his kindness. He said:
“'May God bless you, my child, and give you both a safe journey home!'
“Returning to Baltimore, she made arrangements to have Henry placed in a
clean car and taken to Allentown. After they were under way she told him
about the discharge, and he was delighted. She telegraphed me to mee her
at the depot, but did not say one word about Henry. I read the dispatch
to the family, and many were the conjectures. Peter said she had not
found Henry, and a great variety of opinions were expressed. My wife
burst into tears, fell down on the sofa, and cried, saying she felt that
Henry was dead. Ham, hearing what was being said, concluded it was his
turn to guess; so he began:
“'You's all off de track. Ham sees it all frough de glass in he head, he
do.'
“'Go 'long wid you, you ole fool: since you's free you 'spec' you is big
and knows a heap. You doesn't know nuffin, you don't,' said Aunt Martha.
“'Well, alright, Marfa; 'spec' me not know bery much; but, sho's you is
born, dat boy all right; you see, you jes' wait. I say no mo', but I see
what is de matter. You jes' wait, dat's all you got to do.'
“The next morning I went down to the depot with a carriage, and there
found Seraine and Henry waiting for me. I embraced my poor boy, overcome
with grateful emotion. My joy was complete in finding him alive. He was
a living skeleton. We were not long in driving to the house. All were
out on the portico to see Seraine, no one but Ham expecting Henry with
her. As they all saw Henry the family leaped with joy, and rushing out
to meet us, but seeing Henry's ghastly appearance a sudden sadness came
over all. We helped him out of the carriage. He was completely overcome
when he saw his mother. She clasped him in her arms and cried piteously.
He was assisted into the house and laid upon the sofa. All seemed
to have overlooked Seraine in their great joy over Henry's return. I
introduced her to each one of the family including old Ham and Aunt
Martha.
“'Didn't I see dem in my glass, Marfa; didn't I? What you got to say
now?'
“'I 'spects you did, Ham; dey is heah, sho.' Bress de Laud; he bring dis
boy home. I not see him afore dem pizen Sesh fix him dat way! Dey starve
him. What did dey do to him to make him look like dat?'
“Soon we all got settled, and after breakfast we heard Seraine's story.
She was our heroine, and no mistake. No one of us could do too much for
her. My good wife wanted to have her for a daughter at once. She could
not let her go out of her sight for a moment. She hugged her, kissed
her, seemed almost to want to take her in her lap as a child; in fact,
we all loved her. She had gone through great perils to save our dear
boy, and why not love her I For some days we did nothing but talk over
her journey-ings and what she saw and did. She was the idol of our
household. When Henry had gained strength enough to bear up under the
double shock, we told him of the death of David and James, which painful
news he had not heard before. It took him many days to rally after this
melancholy intelligence of the fate of his dear brothers. After Henry
was strong enough to walk about without help Seraine thought she must
leave us for a time and return home. This saddened our hearts, as we had
grown much attached to her. But she and Henry talked the matter over,
making their own arrangements, and the next day Jackson escorted her to
her home in Michigan. When she left, no family ever wept more in sorrow
at the departure of any one than did ours.
“There was a mystery connected with her periling her life in the way she
did that I could not then solve, but I made no inquiry into her secret.
“Of the few left to us they were now once more nearly all together, and
further plans were in order.”
At this point Dr. Adams said, “The horrors of those rebel prisons have
ever been like a specter before me whenever I hear them mentioned.”
Judge Reed here interrupted, saying: “I indorse every word of Miss
Whitcomb's description of these prisons. I endured their horrors and
inhumanity for nine months, and she does not tell the half that might be
told. To show that Seraine's statement is not in the least exaggerated,
I have saved an article from the Sumter (S. C.) _Watchman_, published
in reference to the Florence Prison at that time, which seems to have
equaled the Pine Forest.”.
Being asked to do so, Dr. Adams read as follows:
“The Camp we found full of what were once human beings, but who would
scarcely now be recognized as such. In an old field, with no inclosures
but the living wall of sentinels who guard them night and day, are
several thousand filthy, diseased, famished men, with no hope of relief,
except by death. A few dirty rags stretched on poles give some of them
a poor protection from the hot sun and heavy dews. All were in rags
and barefoot, and crawling with vermin. As we passed around the line of
guards I saw one of them brought out of his miserable booth by two of
his companions and laid upon the ground to die. He was nearly naked. His
companions pulled his cap over his face and straightened out his limbs.
Before they turned to leave him he was dead. A slight movement of the
limbs and all was over--the captive was free! The Commissary's tent
was close by one side of the square, and near it the beef was laid upon
boards preparatory to its distribution. This sight seemed to excite the
prisoners as the smell of blood does the beasts of the menagerie. They
surged up as near the lines as they were allowed, and seemed, in their
eagerness, about to break over. While we were on the ground a heavy
rain came up, and they seemed to greatly enjoy it, coming out _a paris
naturalibus_, opening their mouths to catch the drops, while one would
wash off another with his hands, and then receive from him the like kind
of office. Numbers get out at night and wander to the neighboring houses
in quest of food.
“From the camp of the living we passed to the camp of the dead--the
hospital--a transition which reminded me of Satan's soliloquy--
“Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell, And in the lowest deeps, a
lower deep, Still threatening to devour me, opens wide.”
“A few tents, covered with pine-tops, were crowded with the dying
and the dead in every stage of corruption. Some lay in prostrate
helplessness; some had crowded under the shelter of the bushes; some
were rubbing their skeleton limbs. Twenty or thirty of them die daily;
most of these, as I was informed, of the scurvy. The corpses laid by the
roadside waiting for the dead-cart, their glaring eyes turned to heaven,
the flies swarming in their mouths, their big-toes tied together with
a cotton string, and their skeleton arms folded on their breasts. You
would hardly know them to be men, so sadly do hunger, disease, and
wretchedness change 'the human face divine.' Presently came the carts;
they were carried a little distance to trenches dug for the purpose
and tumbled in like so many dogs. A few pine-tops were thrown upon the
bodies, a few shovelfuls of dirt, and then haste was made to open a new
ditch for other victims. The burying party were Yankees detailed for
the work, an appointment which, as the Sergeant told me, they consider a
favor, for they get a little more to eat and enjoy fresh air.
“Thus we see at one glance the three great scourges of mankind--war,
famine, and pestilence, and we turn from the spectacle sick at heart,
as we remember that some of our loved ones may be undergoing a similar
misery.”
“This publication,” said Col. Bush, “made in one of their own papers at
the time, proves that all that has ever been said of their treatment of
our prisoners is true.”
“Yes,” said Uncle Daniel, “and much more.”
“Uncle Daniel,” said Dr. Adams, “this Miss Seraine Whitcomb was, indeed,
a true woman, and, as the President well said, a 'little heroine.' I
take it she was rather small, from this expression of his.”
“Yes, she was rather small, but a pure jewel.”
“She was a woman of great determination, and loved purely and strongly.
There are but few instances of such pure devotion and rare patriotism to
be found in the annals of history. What feelings she must have had while
traveling through the Confederacy in such anguish and suspense. She was
a jewel, sure enough.”
Col. Bush here interrupted, saying: “The condition of our poor soldiers
in the prisons she visited must have driven her almost insane. It
certainly drove many of the poor sufferers into a state or condition of
insanity, in which numbers died in their ravings and delirium.”
“Is it not wonderful,” said Dr. Adams, “how soon these barbarities and
inhumanities are forgotten by our people?”
“Yes,” said Col. Bush; “but you must remember that our people are moving
too rapidly to look back upon scenes of distress. Money and power are
now the watchwords--throw patriotism to the dogs. It is not needed now
to save their property and their rights. You must remember that a man
like Hibbard, the deputy at Pine Forest Prison, who allowed men to be
shot down like dogs and starved like wild beasts, is now looked upon
with more consideration and favor than Uncle Daniel, who gave his whole
family as a sacrifice for his country. Did not this same Hibbard travel
all through our country last Fall making speeches? Was he not received
with shouts by our very neighbors, within a stone's throw of this dear
old man, whose son was starved near unto death in Pine Forest Prison by
this man? Has he not held high positions in his State since? And I would
not be surprised to hear that he had been appointed to some Foreign
Mission, in order that he may represent our country abroad in the true
Christian spirit of our advanced civilization!”
“Yes,” said Uncle Daniel; “when he was North on his stumping tour I
mentioned the fact of his inhumanity, and only received jeers from those
who heard me--some young students who were not old enough to be in the
war, and now feel that it must never be mentioned except in a whisper.
It seems that all the treason, infamy, and the barbarities and cruelties
practiced during that bloody period are now condoned, and the persons
who practiced the greater wrongs are made thereby the more respectable.
Oh, that I had not lived to see these things! It makes me almost doubt
my own existence. Sometimes I feel that it is all a dream.”
Maj. Clymer, in order to draw the aged man's mind away from this
unpleasant theme, inquired if he knew what became of Mrs. Lawton.
“I cannot tell,” said Uncle Daniel; “she and Seraine corresponded for a
number of years after the termination of the war. The last we ever heard
of her she had married with an Englishman and located in Canada. God
knows, I hope she may yet be living and happy. She was a noble woman. I
fear, however, that she, too, has passed away, as we have had no tidings
of her for many years.”
Uncle Daniel at this time becoming weary and very melancholy, we excused
him for the present, and asked permission to return again, when
he promised that he would continue his narrative, and, bidding him
good-night, we left, with an increased desire to hear more from his
honest and truthful lips.