Part 7
_Mr. Rice, Senator from Minnesota, said_: “The time had come when we must either recognise the Southern Confederacy, or speedily put it down—use all the means in our power to do so. Must we, when the rebels resort to all sorts of means, fail from any sickly notions, and refrain from using all the means in our power to meet and suppress the rebellion? He would not hesitate for a moment to vote for any measure that would put the rebellion to an end.”
_Mr. Wilson, of Massachusetts_, was in favor of fighting the battle to a successful issue, and drafting if necessary, but he agreed with the Senator from Maine that this style of rose-water must cease, that it would be better to tell the whole truth to the people, and not attempt to deceive them. _It seemed as if we had an organized system of lying in this country._ “He thought the censorship of the press had been a great disadvantage.”
Most of the articles in the newspapers in reference to the war are simply malicious falsehoods, the creation of base minds and evil hearts.
The Washington correspondent of the Philadelphia Enquirer says: “Lieutenant Clure, of the 92d Ohio, with 28 rebel prisoners from the Shenandoah Valley, arrived to-day, and while en route to the Provost Marshal’s office they were taken to a Secession house on C Street, and feasted for several hours, and then taken to a number of drinking saloons by Secesh sympathisers.”
_July 11th._ Joseph C. Paul, a private in Company K, Pennsylvania Zouaves, says in a letter dated James river, July 5th, to a friend in Philadelphia, “We are now lying near James river, and rest assured that if the enemy attack us again before we are prepared, it will not be a loss of five nights’ sleep to us as before, as we will occupy Richmond as sure as fate. This is the opinion of distinguished officers.”
Lincoln has gone on a visit to the army of the Potomac, accompanied by P. H. Watson, assistant Secretary of War.
The “Philadelphia Evening Bulletin” says General Burnside has promptly brought his fine division of veterans, who have won laurels at Roanoke Island and Newbern, to James river, and they are now joined to the army of the Potomac.
Captain Gibson tells us to-day that arrangements have been made for an immediate exchange of prisoners.
The Philadelphia Enquirer says, “Major Trumbull, of the first Connecticut artillery, has arrived in town, and is fast recovering from an attack of the Chickahominy fever.” It is presumed that the Major referred to is not the only one suffering from the Chickahominy fever about this time.
_July 12th._ Gold is riz, and, in the language of the poet, it threatens to be rizzer. Some Yankee financiers argue that gold is not up, but that paper is down! This question between pecuniary tweedledee and tweedledum seems to puzzle the _quid nuncs_ since the retreat of McClellan.
A sergeant escaped from the barracks last night. He lives in Baltimore. To all intents and purposes Captain Gibson, in command of this post, is a prisoner on the island, whose only consolation seems to be to exercise his petty tyranny over “rebel” prisoners. There are men whose nature has a peculiar affinity for anything petty, mean, and bad. They fly upon it like a vulture upon carrion. I discover that it is the policy of the Yankees to allow those in immediate attendance on the inmates of prisons to _seem_ to grant them some indulgences _at times_, in order to gain their confidence, and arrive at their secrets. Some ladies from Delaware visited the Fort yesterday, and when concealed behind pillars, so as not to be seen by the officers of the Fort, they waved their handkerchiefs at the prisoners. After they left, they sent a request, clandestinely, to them for “Secession buttons.” The ladies, as a general thing, North and South, seem to be with us. This speaks well for the _heart_ of the Southern people, for this is the commodity ladies deal in.
_July 13th._ From Yankee newspapers it seems that gold has become scarce, since it has risen so in value:
The Gold and the Silver Have vanished and fled, And people must carry Shinplasters instead.
A gentleman from Florida, who has been a prisoner at Fort Lafayette, in New York harbor, was brought here yesterday. At Fort Lafayette he has been in double irons since the 27th of April last, because it was alleged that he was a captain of a band of guerillas to hang Union men. He is a private attached to the 3d Florida regiment, Colonel Dilworth. The Yankees have threatened to hang him several times. He was captured at St. Johns, while within an hundred yards of his house, whither he was going on furlough. A sermon was preached in the Fort this evening, and my friend Lieutenant W., who has fortunately a religious turn of mind, heard it, and informs me that it was a fine effort, although emanating from a Yankee. The gist of it was that religion is not incompatible with a soldier’s life. For my own part, I believe that as no good can come out of Nazareth, or pure water from a foul spring, so nothing sincere can fall from a Yankee’s lips.
Look at “Old Gip” (Captain Gibson) as he winds about the yard of the fort! His slim figure is made all the slimmer by tight pantaloons. He walks with as quick a step as his left leg twisted at an angle of forty-seven degrees will permit. He carries his chin as if conscious of a stiff cravat, and his old palm leaf hat is set with a knowing inclination to the left ear. “Old Gip” is a tall, spare and ungainly looking man, of about fifty years of age, with a pale ascetic countenance, which carries with it an expression vibrating between low suspicion and vulgarity. His hair is cut tolerably close, close enough to display in their full proportions a large pair of ears, which stand out in “relief” like turrets from a watch-tower, and with pretty much the same object. His beard is short, and of pepper and salt color, and he has a malicious twinkling eye. Most persons have some prevailing characteristic, which usually gives tone and color to all their thoughts and actions, forming what we denominate _temperament_. The temperament of “Old Gip” seems to take delight in being as rough, uncouth, and disobliging as possible to all whom cruel fate has brought with the unfortunate limits of his tyranny. Occasionally the officers are allowed to walk on the parapet of the fort for recreation for about an half hour. Any conversation with the sentinels is strictly forbidden, and for not observing the rule in this respect, some officers have been placed in solitary confinement. Not long since, while the Confederate officers were walking on the parapet, they noticed a vessel approaching with a flag, which, at a distance, looked exactly like the Confederate flag, and the conversation became general upon the subject, in the course of which, one of the officers observed, in a jocular way, that he believed it was the “stars and bars,” and said, “Hurrah for Jeff Davis.” Soon the sentinel informed us, “Your time is up,” and we had scarcely reached our quarters when the officer above referred to received a note from “Old Gip,” in which the Yankee functionary used this language: “For this, your first offence, I _warn_ you, but for a repetition of the crime, may God have mercy on your soul!” The sentinel must have informed Captain Gibson of the _crime_, for the latter was not within hearing when the remark was made.
_July 14th._ An old Dutch soldier in the fort said to-day, “I don’t care which side whips by Got, so I gets my thirteen dollars a month.” Another Yankee soldier remarked to a prisoner, “You have plenty of friends in this yard, but we must keep mum.” Captain Gibson has just issued an order preventing prisoners from receiving money from their friends, but allows them to buy necessaries from the sutler, and give an order on him when he has funds in his hands belonging to a prisoner. This is caused by the escape of several prisoners lately, for it is supposed that the sentinels were bribed by the parties who escaped.
The Black Republican members of the United States Congress are as far from mixing with the Democrats as oil with water. The two are always quarrelling in spite of the fact, that the Black Republicans are ever trying to be a little more Democratic, while the Democrats make constant efforts to be a little “Republican.” In this way the Black Republicans are like onions rubbed with Democratic spices; the strong original nigger odor is blended with new and foreign matter. However much the Democrats aim to conceal the fact, it is quite plain that Black Republican Onion offends Democratic nostrils, while the new Democratic spice is quite unwelcome to the genuine Black Republican.
_July 15th._ Ten prisoners escaped last night. From a Northern paper I learn that the following dispatch has just been received at the War Department, “Nashville,” July 14th. It was the ninth, instead of the eleventh Michigan regiment, that surrendered at Murfreesboro’, Tennessee. The eleventh arrived at the camp near the Davisville Fair Grounds, yesterday afternoon, after an unsuccessful three days’ chase after Morgan. Three members of Hewitt’s battery, who escaped from Murfreesboro’, report that the battery and the third Minnesota surrendered to the rebels. Colonel Duffield is mortally wounded, and General T. A. Crittenden, of Indiana, taken prisoner.
Mrs. Phillips, who was not long since released from the old capital prison at Washington city, and sent South, has been again arrested by an order from “Beast Butler,” on the charge of “mocking” at the funeral remains of Lieutenant De Kay, and imprisoned in one of the houses on Ship Island, intended for hospital purposes, where she is to be allowed one female servant, and no more, and a soldier’s ration a day, with the means of cooking it. Another order from the same source sentences Fidel Keller or Kelti to two years’ hard labor on Ship Island for exhibiting in his bookstore window a skeleton labelled “Chickahominy.” A third order sentences John W. Audins to hard labor for two years, for having exhibited a cross, which he said was fashioned from the bones of a Yankee soldier.
Lincoln has just had an interview with the members of Congress from the border States, the object of which is said to have been to impress upon them the necessity of urging their respective States to adopt the gradual emancipation policy, in order to avoid, says the New York Express, “immediate and bloody abolition.” The telegraph reports that General Curtis, (who is endeavoring to retreat through Arkansas to the Mississippi river, opposite Memphis,) is suffering terribly for want of forage and supplies. Also, on Monday, his command was at Jacksonport, and General Hindman had ordered the railroad bridge at Madison to be burned, to prevent Curtis from passing in that direction, and had also required all the inhabitants near Gauley bridge to burn their provisions and shoot their cattle, lest they should be seized by foraging parties sent out by Curtis. Charges have been preferred against General Mitchell by the division formerly commanded by him in North Alabama. He is accused of having permitted a portion of his troops to perpetrate upon the people of North Alabama “deeds of cruelty and of guilt, the bare narration of which makes the heart sick.” Ex-President Fillmore says “that the Abolitionists in Congress had undone what the army had done.”
The New York Express says: “Adjutant General Thomas came to this city a day or two ago to make arrangements concerning Confederate prisoners at Governor’s Island and Fort Lafayette. After a thorough examination, it was found inexpedient to permit any considerable number of Secessionists to occupy Governor’s Island. It is one of the largest ordnance depots in the United States. The arsenal on the island contains millions of dollars worth of war material, and as the different fortifications constitute a part of our harbor defences, and the armaments constantly ready for use, a comparatively small number of Secessionists, should the guard in any event be overpowered, could do a vast amount of damage. The prisoners, numbering 1,100, have been taken to Fort Delaware.” They have arrived.
_July 16th._ The papers report the thermometer at 90° in the shade. It must be 100° in the room in which we are confined. We are losing flesh and health rapidly. A call for a mass meeting in New Jersey says, among other things: “While the waning ranks of the rebels are furnished by conscription, let it be our boast that we defend the nation by the heroic volunteer.” The New York Tribune says: “There are upwards of three thousand prisoners on that island, (Pea Patch Island,) among which is the notorious Colonel Pettigrew. Colonel Gibson, with a sufficient force at his command, has charge of the prisoners. One of the finest forts in the country is being constructed on that island. The island is located forty miles south of Philadelphia, and two and a half from the nearest point of the main land.” A correspondent of the Buffalo Express, writing from Old Point Comfort, under date of July 4th, says: “The 44th, (Ellsworth Avengers,) which I persist in calling the finest regiment that ever took the field, is a mere wreck. On Wednesday, after the last of their many fights, they stacked arms with only 90 muskets—a sad remainder of the original 1,040 men. Of the greater portion, some are killed, more are wounded, and still more are home on sick leave.”
Horace Greeley says: “The proper cure for a guerilla is hemp, looped over the first tree, guerilla pendant.” The following also is from that infamous sheet, the New York Tribune: “There is much excitement in Nashville, and there is great fear of a rebel attack on that city. At the Murfreesboro’ fight $30,000 worth of army stores were lost on our side. The Pennsylvania 7th lost 200 men—only three or four of their officers escaped. _The rebel loss is said to be greater than ours._” The latter is what the Yankees always record. In all their reports of battles they wind up by saying, “the rebel loss is said to be greater than ours.” In the case above referred to, a more disgraceful lie was never recorded even by a Yankee.
The Northern papers stated a week ago, and we were assured, that a general exchange of prisoners had been agreed upon by the two governments. In yesterday’s Tribune I find the following: “We are assured that the report of an agreement for a general exchange of prisoners is premature. Yet it is thought that both sides will favor some immediate arrangement.” The bill for the admission of the “State of Western Virginia,” after a long discussion, was yesterday adopted by a vote of 23 to 17. In the House the Ways and Means Committee reported the Miscellaneous Appropriation Bill, with the donation to Gales & Seaton _stricken out_. The Yankee Congress adjourned to-day.
_July 17th._ From the Baltimore _Sun_, of July 12th, I extract: “A Washington paper states that the government has agreed upon a general exchange of prisoners of war, and that arrangements will speedily be made for the sending South of the prisoners now held on the seaboard. All the prisoners confined at New York were taken on board a steamer yesterday.” A western correspondent of a Yankee paper, under date of Vicksburg, July 7th, says: “General Hindman is reported to be at Little Rock with a large force. He has with him a million dollars in gold and silver, which he obtained ‘by the authority of the sword’ from the banks in Memphis. He is disliked by his troops for his oppressiveness and tyranny. His last order was for the impressment of every man in Arkansas capable of bearing arms. This, of course, has created a great deal of indignation among the people, and has made many enemies to the cause of Secession. Hindman, as a General, is the same swaggering bombast that he was as a Congressman. In his own town of Helena he is despised worse than the meanest and most contemptible citizen. He took advantage of the temporary insanity of the people to put himself in a position that would not have been assigned him at any time since. His debut in the rebellion was made at the head of the “Hindman Legion,” which he raised immediately after his return from Washington City, after the secession of his gallant State.”
“Simon Cohen was arrested in Baltimore on Monday, by officer Scott, charged with displaying a Secession flag at his store, No. 185 Gay street. He was held for the action of the provost marshal. Also, Leonard Strikpon spent the day at a lager beer saloon on the Belair Road, and imbibed somewhat freely, so much so, that he lost his senses, and hurrahed for Jeff. Davis. Officer Smith took him into custody, and Justice Spicer sent him to jail in default of bail to keep the peace.”—_Baltimore News Sheet._
Colonel Hanson, of Kentucky, was to-day transferred to Fort Warren, according to his own request.
_July 18th._ Anniversary of the battle at Bull Run. The prisoners seem in fine spirits to-day in recollection of our victory a year ago, though it’s hard to be cheerful in a room so dull as the one in which we are confined! There is nothing in it that can awaken the mind or call up a sentiment of solace! “The dawning of morn, the daylight sinking,” generally furnishes us the same monotony! But the moody silence our thoughts shed over us in this comfortless confinement is often broken by the cheerful songs of Lieutenant S., who forces us to ask ourselves,
“Why, soldiers, why Should we be melancholy, boys?”
The daily promises of “Old Gip,” that Jackson’s men shall be paroled in a few days, are not believed; yet, with this unbelief is blended a ray of hope, and for one I say, “for God’s sake destroy not the hopes that man holds out to me; upon them I live.” Dr. Reid says if we cannot imbibe the spirit, it is often profitable to put on the appearance of cheerfulness. “By _seeming_ gay, we grow to what we seem.”
Thousands of dollars worth of clothing have been sent to the Confederate prisoners by Secessionists, and very little do they get. “Old Gip” refuses to give it to many who are in a destitute condition, but he makes the impression outside, that all clothing sent to us by Secession friends is given to us. A box was sent to Captain R. (a prisoner) with clothing in it, to distribute among the destitute prisoners, but Gibson refused to allow him. The clothing is given to Yankee soldiers. The Dutch Captain _Mtowlowski_ paid us a visit to-day. He is a florid, fat, happy-looking, short fellow, with legs so thick, that they very much resemble an elephant’s. His face is large and rosy, and its general expression a mixture of good humor and inexhaustible drollery. He wears a moustache _a la militaire_. On the whole, he presents the appearance of a migratory lager beer keg. He would be muscular, had not lager beer enervated his strong build, by placing a superabundance of useless fat where muscle ought to be. The Captain says that he was a prisoner in Europe, and that our fare is a paradise to what his was, which is very hard to believe.
To-day my thoughts have turned to my early friends—those who have been weighed in the balance and found not wanting. The thoughts of early friendship! what a world of tender memory they suggest. For what are all our later successes in life, however bright out fortunes, compared with the early triumphs of boyish days? Where, among the jealous rivalry of some, the cold and half-wrung praise of others, the selfish and unsympathizing regard of all, shall we find anything to repay us for the swelling exstacy of our young hearts, as we pledged ourselves to each other in prosperity or adversity in the noble bonds of friendship? Some moments we have which half seem to realize our early dreams of ambition, and rouse the spirit within us. But what were all compared to our boyish glories—to the little world of sympathy and love our early friendships teemed with as we pledged ourselves to each other? No, the world has no requital for this! It is like a bright day, which, as its glories gild the east, display before us a whole world of beauty and promise. Then our hopes have not withered—false friendships have not scathed—cold, selfish interest has not yet hardened our hearts or dried up our affections, and we are indeed happy; but equally, like the burst of morning, it is short-lived and fleeting, and equally does it pass away, never to return.
_July 19th._ My thoughts this morning have been engrossed upon the subject of being exchanged or paroled—on being again among congenial friends in the “Old Dominion!” But I shall no longer allow my fortune or lot to be the sport of my temperament. I shall not give way to that April-day frame of mind which is ever the jest and scoff of those hardier and sterner natures, who, if never overjoyed by success, are never much depressed by failure; for the glimpses of sunshine the world has afforded me, fleeting and passing enough, in all conscience, I am not so ungrateful as to repine, because it was not permanent. On the other hand, I am thankful for those bright hours, which, if nothing more, are, at least, delightful souvenirs. They form the golden thread in the tangled web of our existence, ever appearing amid the darker surface around, and throwing a fair halo of brilliancy on what—without it—were cold, bleak and barren.
Lieutenant -—-, since he has been in prison here, wrote to his cousin at York, Pennsylvania, a friendly letter, and received the following reply:—“Cousin, I can hardly call you dear cousin, for were I in the Union army you might have shot me if you would have had the chance, which I do think you would do if you get the chance; so as it is your thoughts to kill all Northern men that you can, relation or not, and which I do think it is a shame for you to do, being as all your relations lives in the North, and are all Union people, so far as I know of, which place I seen yesterday you was born in twenty years ago, and eighty years ago your grand father fought for the glorious country, and now you want to turn right around to drive it to nothing at the point of the bayonet, which I do think that you are doing wrong. Had I a hold of you I know I would make you git—if you was pressed into it I can forgive you, but if you fight against this country free-hearted I can’t forgive you, and don’t fear you neither. It is right that they have taken you a prisoner, and I hope they will deal with you as they ought, being as they have you, and all such friends and relations as I have in the rebel army, if there are more of them. I hope in some future day you may see how wrong you have done to trample down that banner which waves over once so glorious a country as this. Now, as a rebel, you want to destroy it. Shame on you as a Christian, as you wanted to be in days gone by. I still thought you had more respect for this country than you show for up to this time. Think of this letter whenever you write to me—think that you are writing to a Union cousin, _which has more sense in his big toe than you have in your head_. For me to come to see you is impossible for me to do. If you was there, and I knowed you was doing write, I might come, but so I cannot; and you must think hard of me for writing such a letter to you, for I have no sympathy for a man that will do such a villainous act as you have done to this country. If you had any thoughts for yourself and your relations you might have got out of that rascally rebel army as well as you have got into it. Your relations that you enquire about are all well. If I had Jeff Davis, and you together, I would hang both of you. So now you can do as you please; you can write, or leave it alone; but that is what I think of you. If you write, tell me where your father is.
J. S. B.”
This is the Lieutenant’s rejoinder: