Chapter 61

DANVILLE.--MACON.--SAVANNAH.

Belle Boyd, the Confederate spy.--National characteristics.-- Colonel Mosby.--Richmond to Danville.--Sleeping spoon-fashion.-- Glazier's "corrective point" suffers.--Saltatory entrance to a railroad car.--Colonel Joselyn.--Sympathy of North Carolinians.-- Ingenious efforts to escape.--Augusta.--Macon.--Turner again!-- "Carelessness" with firearms.--Tunneling.--Religious revival.-- Order from Confederate War Department.--Murder!--Fourth of July.--Macon to Savannah.--Camp Davidson.--More tunneling.

The celebrated Confederate spy, Belle Boyd, paid a visit to "Libby" in the latter part of March, and her presence created much comment among the prisoners. She was not that ideal of grace and gentleness which

"Untutored youth, Unlearned in the world's false subtleties,"

enthrones within the temple of his heart, but was, notwithstanding, a remarkable woman. With much of the enthusiasm that characterized "_La Pucelle_," she appears to have combined a considerable allowance of shrewdness, or common sense; a mixture of qualities, by the way, of more common occurrence than is generally supposed, among the northern and southern people of our continent. There is little difference between the "peartness" of the one, and the "smartness" of the other; or the "high tone" of the South, and the _nonchalance_ of the North. The common _national_ characteristic of the people of both sections, however, is the power of adapting themselves to every variety of circumstance. No matter what the importance, or the insignificance of the occasion, or event, upon which they perceive that their opportunity for the attainment of a desired object depends, they are ready at the right moment to seize and turn it to account; and while, to-day, the banks of the Ganges or the Tigris are made to yield up to them the fruits of their industry and produce, to-morrow, when a modification of the law of demand and supply prevails, we find the same men following the tide of fortune through humbler but equally useful channels. We are pre-eminently a practical people, and that this characteristic to some extent destroys the poetic aspect of American life, cannot be gainsaid. The homes of our infancy, the graves of our kindred, the hills upon whose summits we first felt the glory of the morning, the altar at which we first knelt in prayer, the rustic nook where we listened for the one step to which our boyish hearts beat sweetest time; have no power to trammel our migratory proclivities, or to check our local inconstancy. The sentiments with which such objects are indissolubly connected, are but tendrils clinging round the parent nest, and the wings of the new-fledged bird, bursting them asunder, it soars out into the world to contend and battle with its storms.

One of the least attractive illustrations of this spirit of unrest, is where it extends to our women, and Miss Belle Boyd's is in our estimation a case in point.

"Unknown to her the rigid rule, The dull restraint, the chiding frown, The weary torture of the school; The taming of wild nature down. Her only lore, the legends told Around the soldiers' fire; at night Stars rose and set, and seasons rolled; Flowers bloomed, and snowflakes fell, Unquestioned, in her sight!"

Her career was full of adventure and intrepid daring, and she served the disloyal cause she espoused faithfully and to the bitter end; and then, like other wandering stars of the troubled sky, sank into oblivion. From the time of Miss Boyd's visit until the seventh of May, Willard Glazier continued to lead the same dull life at Libby Prison. The monotony of the hours was unbroken by any circumstance more exciting than a visit from the celebrated partisan chief, Mosby, who is described by Glazier as a _preux chevalier_, at that time about twenty-eight years of age, in figure slight, with straight fair hair and closely shaven face, except that "a faded German moustache overshadowed his upper lip." It does not appear that he was received as a welcome visitor, although he jocularly remarked to some of the prisoners who had been captured by his own troopers that he was "glad to see them there."

Time! what wonders dost thou work. But a few years have passed, and Mosby, who was erst so malignant a rebel, that even the poor, but loyal, prisoners, presented him the cold shoulder, is now a confidential friend of the late Commander in chief of the Union Army! Longstreet, the rebel General, again swears by the Star-Spangled Banner; and Beauregard, hero of Sumter and Bull Run, is now an advocate of perfect equality between the black and white races in his Southern State of Louisiana!

The visit of Colonel Mosby was the last memorable incident of our hero's sojourn in "Libby." Upon the seventh of May following, the prisoners were removed thence to Danville, Virginia. Several, in the course of this transit, effected their escape, but the great majority were safely conveyed to their new place of imprisonment. The change made no improvement in their unhappy condition. True, the rations furnished at Danville were of somewhat better quality, and more liberal in quantity, but the discipline was equally Draconian, and the penalty of its slightest infraction--death! The chief source of misery among the captives was want of room, the men being compelled to sleep "spoon-fashion," and in detachments, many being compelled to stand up awake while their comrades slept as best they could.

This condition of things, however, did not last long. Early upon the morning of the twelfth, the prisoners were once more marched out and started southward. After a journey of twenty-four hours in cattle cars, exposed most of the time to a drenching rain, they were disembarked and tramped another twelve miles to Greensboro. Here the mass of weary, wet, and hopeless patriots were about to be driven, pell-mell, like a herd of cattle, into a train of filthy cars, when young Glazier thought he espied a chance of evading his captors. He waited until it appeared to him that the guard was sufficiently occupied with other duties to overlook his whereabouts, and then slipped behind a log, where in an instant he lay upon the ground apparently fast asleep, trusting in the confusion attendant upon the departure of the train to escape observation. But fortune was against him. The only result was the infliction upon that portion of his body which some mothers consider the "corrective point" of their children, of sundry unceremonious kicks, which, coming from such boots as the "C. S. A." at that time supplied to their soldiers, were felt to be more persuasive than agreeable. Of course it became necessary to awaken from his profound slumber slowly, which made the _kicks_ still more persuasive, and by the time he was erect, the cars were filled and the doors all closed. The guards therefore insisted upon his effecting an entrance through the small window, which he did with certain vigorous assistance from behind, and landed upon the head and shoulders of Lieutenant-Colonel Joselyn, of the Fifteenth Massachusetts Infantry, who passed him around in such a way that the other occupants of the car were moved to sundry objurgations at the expense of our young friend more forcible than polite, and partaking little of the nature of a hospitable reception! However, this is a world of compromises, and Glazier soon found his level among his fellow-captives.

Their route took them through a portion of North Carolina, where for the first time they met with unmistakable proofs of sympathy. At one city, on learning there were "Yankee prisoners" in town, the citizens came out in large numbers. Many attempted to converse with them, but were forced back at the point of the bayonet. The prisoners then struck up the "Star-Spangled Banner," and "Rally Round the Flag," and in each interlude could see white handkerchiefs waving in the breeze, demonstrations that so exasperated the Virginia guard that they sent a detail to drive "the d----d tar-heels" from the field.

The contiguity of friends of course presented a strong temptation to some to strike for liberty. Every device promising the least chance of escape was therefore resorted to. Among the most ingenious of these was one so graphically described by young Glazier that we make no apology for again using his language:

"The night being very dark," he writes, "and the soil where we were huddled together very sandy and light, many of the prisoners dug holes in the ground and there buried themselves, hoping thus to escape the observation of the guard when we should be marched from the field to the cars. Unfortunately, however, the scheme was exposed by one of the guard who accidentally stumbled into one of the holes, in the bottom of which he beheld a 'live Yankee.' Struck with amazement, he shouted out: 'Oh, my G--, Captain, here is a Yankee buried alive!' Great excitement was the natural consequence. A general search ensued, torch-lights were used, and the trees and ground thoroughly inspected. This investigation brought to light several holes of a similar character, each having deposited therein a Federal prisoner. The guards were very angry and went about shouting, 'Run them through! Pick up the d----d hounds!' but their captain, a good-natured sort of man, stopped all this. 'No,' said he, 'the d----d Yankees have a right to escape if they can. Let them alone. I'll risk their getting away from me!'"

Some of the burrowers did escape, however, and several others hid themselves in the foliage and were left behind.

After this nothing eventful occurred upon the way, and on the fifteenth of the same month, the whole party arrived at Augusta, Georgia, and found the home guards, to whose custody they were consigned, a bad lot. From that city they were soon after removed to Macon. Up to this period, amid all the mortifications of their condition, notwithstanding their tiresome rides and weary marches; despite the chagrin they naturally felt when well-laid plans of escape were frustrated by accidents beyond the power of men to foresee, they still had one source of consolation--there was at least one drop of balm in Gilead--_for had they not gotten rid of--Turner!_

Judge, then, of their mingled horror and despair when they reached the front gate of Camp Oglethorpe, their future prison, to find that monster before them, lounging gracefully against the gate entrance, and evidently delighted with the idea of being in a condition to shock his former victims with his presence.

The laugh, however, was not entirely his, for, upon mustering them, he discovered that forty-seven had escaped. Smothering his wrath for the moment, he welcomed the remainder to their prison-house, with the gratifying intelligence that _it had its dead-line_, and all who approached it had better be ready to meet the contingencies of a future state of rewards and punishments!

After horrifying them with his presence, he shortly took himself off, and not long afterward, to their great relief, was ordered back to Richmond.

Before the week had expired, Glazier had an opportunity of estimating how _careless_(_?_) some of his custodians were in handling their firearms, being an eye-witness of an attempt by a sentinel to shoot Lieutenant Barker, of the First Rhode Island Cavalry. The bullet, kinder than the boy who sped it on its errand (for this guard was not over fourteen years of age), passed over the old man's head. As the latter noted the direction of the lad's aim, and heard the whistle of the bullet above him, he very temperately asked the somewhat unnecessary question, "What are you shooting at?" "I am shooting at you, you d----d old cuss." "What are you shooting at me for?" mildly inquired the lieutenant. "Because you had your hands on the dead-line," answered the boy. At this moment the sergeant of the guard came up, and taking the precocious ruffian by the collar, shook him with considerable energy, and demanded of him very fiercely, "What the devil are you shooting at that prisoner for, you little scoundrel?" The boy replied that the prisoner had his hands on the dead-line. Whereupon the sergeant shook him again, told him he was a liar--that the lieutenant was not within twenty feet of the dead-line, and consigned him to the custody of the corporal of the guard, who marched the young monster away.

Captain Glazier states that he was within ten feet of the lieutenant when the shot was fired, and that the latter _was not within thirty feet of the fatal line_. The incident was not very exhilarating upon the threshold of his new abode, and the prisoners naturally felt greatly exasperated when they heard the particulars.

An order was promulgated next morning by the officer commanding, Captain W. K. Tabb, directing that "any of their number not in ranks at roll-call should be shot," which was not calculated to make them think more kindly of their jailers. The fact is, that the prisoners, in pursuance of a settled determination to lose no opportunity of escape that seemed at all feasible, had been again making experiments in _tunneling_, and this atrocious order was intended as a measure of precaution against similar schemes in future.

Thus excluded from the relief afforded by such hopeful occupation, their poor captives had to find other employment for their leisure hours, and at this time a kind of religious revival took place among them, and if human prayer could have effected the destruction of the Confederacy, that organization would certainly have crumbled into dust forthwith. The enthusiasm was so great that at times the exercises bordered upon tumult, and greatly incensed their less fervent guards. At one time a huge Western man poured forth such a rhapsody in favor of Grant and Sherman, and garnished it with such pungent denunciations of Jefferson Davis, and other Confederate magnates, that one of the jailers commented thus: "D----d smart praying, but it won't do! It won't do!"

On the morning of the tenth of August, an order from the Confederate War Department was read before the entire garrison of Camp Oglethorpe, and caused much excitement. This order directed that a detachment of fifty prisoners, selected from officers of the highest rank, should be forwarded to Charleston, in order that they might be placed under the fire of the siege guns with which the beleaguering Union forces were attempting the reduction of that city. The order further directed that Generals Scammon, Wessels, Seymour, Schuyler and Heckman should be included in the number. The mandate was of course at once executed, and the departure of the devoted band was the signal for a wild burst of indignant reprobation of the Confederate authorities. It happened also, at this time, that one of the sentinels shot and mortally wounded a prisoner. The victim's name was Otto Grierson, and he had been a general favorite. The excuse assigned for the murder was that he was endeavoring to escape, but his comrades declared that at the time the shot was fired, he was fully sixteen feet from the dead-line, and had made no attempt to escape. Young Glazier and others joined in a formal report of the facts to the officer in command, but the only result was that the murderer received promotion, and was granted a furlough!

If the statements of Captain Glazier regarding this and other contemporaneous outrages are to be relied upon (and he is very strongly corroborated), the officers commanding this military prison sadly abused their trust. Even the highest of those officials indulged in such petty exhibitions of puerile spite as to be altogether unworthy of his station, or even the name of an American.

On the arrival of the Fourth of July, the prisoners very naturally determined, as far as their limited resources would permit, to celebrate the occasion. Accordingly, in true American fashion, a meeting was called, at which speeches of a patriotic character were made, songs sung, and a miniature flag, containing the full number of stars and stripes, which one of their number had concealed about his person, was produced, and became an object of much interest. Instead of magnanimously ignoring all this harmless enthusiasm, the commander of the prison marched in a company of guards and violently dispersed the meeting!

On the twenty-seventh of July, six hundred prisoners were counted out, as they supposed to be added to the others under fire at Charleston, but really for removal to Camp Davidson, at Savannah, Georgia.

This change proved for the better. In the first place, in lieu of the Sahara of shadeless sand and clay of their former prison grounds, they found at "Davidson" a number of fine oaks, beneath the shade of which they were permitted to recline in peace. In addition to this, and a matter of infinitely greater importance, their guards were officered by _gentlemen_. Captain Glazier states that the authorities here issued tents, cooking utensils, and decent rations, and adds this tribute to their generally manly conduct toward the prisoners: "The troops here have seen service, and there is nothing like the battle-field and the suffering there experienced to teach soldiers humanity toward each other. Whenever attempts are made to escape, they give us to understand that they would do the same themselves, under like circumstances, but are still compelled to punish such infractions of discipline. They politely ask our pardon for inspecting our quarters, and in a manner as gentlemanly as possible, remove our blankets from the floor of our tents in their search for incipient _tunnels_. All this is very gratifying and tends to assuage the bitter hatred which former brutality has engendered. These Georgia boys will be long remembered, and may look for the utmost kindness and consideration from us if the chances of war ever reverse our situations."

This is a record for Georgia nobler far than any she ever gained upon the battle-field, albeit her sons were always in the van. All honor to them! Such victories are well worth the winning.

But pleasant as their Georgia quarters were by comparison with former experiences, the captives were afflicted with the _malade du pays_--the home-sickness that tugged at their hearts, and bade them again and again risk death for the chance of freedom. Tunnel after tunnel was attempted, and one, constructed by a select band (sworn to secrecy), was upon the eve of completion, when a straggling cow blundered upon the frail covering of turf, and became so securely imbedded in the falling earth that she could not extricate herself. Her bellowing attracted the attention of the sentinel, the plot was discovered, and, of course, frustrated.

Despite such disappointments, however, when the time came, as it soon did, for the prisoners to leave Savannah, they did so with sentiments of gratitude for the comparatively humane treatment they had received at the hands of the Georgians, not unmingled, however, with apprehensions concerning their future, for it was openly rumored that they were destined to join their former fellow-prisoners now under fire of Gilmore's siege guns at Charleston.