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 CARE OF PRISONERS OF WAR, 
 
 NORXH AND SOUTH. 
 
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are of prisoners of Iffar, 
 
 orth and South, 
 
 ^ ePaper^ 
 
 READ BEFORE THE 
 
 OHIO COMMANDERY 
 
 -OF THE- 
 
 Military Order of tlie Loyal Legion 
 
 -OF THF,- 
 
 Unitkd States, 
 
 OCTOBER 5, 1887. 
 
 -BY- 
 
 A. B. ISHAM, 
 
 Late ist Lieutenant Co. F, -jth Michigan Cavalry Volunteers, and ft 
 seven months a prisoner of war in Rebel prisons. 
 
 CINCINNATI : 
 
 H. C. SHERICK & CO. 
 1887. 
 
<<y 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 IN BKHANGE 
 
 JAN 5 - 1915 
 
Care of Prisoners of War, North and Sontli. 
 
 From the immense armies called into the field, and the 
 extended sphere of military operations during the great civil 
 war, there necessarily accrued to the charge of each belligerent 
 large contingents of prisoners of war. The Confederates who 
 fell into the hands of the Union forces amounted, men and 
 officers, to 476,169; whilst 188,145 Union men and officers 
 were made prisoners of war by the Confederate troops. Not 
 all, however, of these two enormous masses were held as 
 captives of war. Of the Confederates, 248,599 were paroled 
 on the field, leaving 227,570 who suffered confinement in 
 prisons as prisoners of war. And one-half of the Federal 
 prisoners, it is estimated, were paroled, leaving 94,072 who 
 actually underwent confinement in the prisons of the South. 
 The care of such large numbers, the safe keeping and proper 
 maintenance, in regard to shelter, food, clothing, and hygienic 
 environment — according to the laws of modern warfare, and 
 as demanded by the civilization of the age, as well for 
 prisoners of war as for those who may fall to the charge of 
 the State under whatever circumstances — was a matter of no 
 light moment. It involved the establishment of special 
 bureaus, of camps and quarters, of an immense commissariat, 
 of a considerable of an army for a guarding force ; and em- 
 ployed an immense transportation equipment, a legion of 
 contractors, special agents, and spies. In short, to make 
 suitable provision for the sustentation, the well-being, and 
 security of the captives, a burden was imposed but little 
 inferior to supporting an active army of equal number in the 
 field. How the obligations incumbent upon them toward the 
 prisoners of war in their hands were discharged by the North 
 
— 4 — 
 
 and the South is a part of the history of the struggle, which, 
 while it may not be the most pleasant for consideration, in all 
 its aspects, is not of secondary importance to any of the 
 greatest affairs of the war. 
 
 TREATMENT OF PRISONERS AT THE NORTH. 
 
 At the North blind prejudice was rapidly fading away 
 under the effulgent light diffused by the common school 
 system, whose steady rays had about dispelled the ignorance 
 and bigotr}'' which had subjected helpless fellow-creatures, 
 under papular disfavor, to the most brutal ferocity. No 
 longer anywhere north of Mason and Dixon's line, by general 
 sanction, could there have been a recurrence of such scenes 
 as were witnessed at Salem, Massachusetts, in 1692, or in 
 New York City in 1741. Universal education had not only 
 confirmed the immortal declaration that " all men are created 
 free and equal," but it had also inculcated the sentiment that 
 all men had claims to care and regard, and that, while they 
 lived, whatever may have been their derelictions, they were 
 not to be deprived of any of the common necessaries or con- 
 solations of life with which it was possible to provide them. 
 Animated by such feelings, the men of the North did not war 
 against those of the South as against " hell-hounds," or 
 "baboons," or " hellish brutes;" but as against misguided 
 men, seeking to destroy the life of the Nation. The columns 
 of blue, marching southward under the panoply of war, were 
 terrible to behold ; yet few hearts there were beneath the 
 glorious colors they bore which could not be touched by 
 human suffering, or moved by appeals of woe. In the shock 
 of battle stern determination heeded not death, or wounds, or 
 physical agony ; but when the conflict of arms was over, no 
 resentment was cherished to be expended upon defenceless 
 captives which the fortunes of war had delivered over. 
 
 Prisoners captured by the Federals were not murdered, 
 robbed, insulted, or subjected to harsh treatment. Isolated 
 instances where rough usage was experienced very likely did 
 
occur. But such treatment was rare, and was bestowed, 
 generally, in retaliation for wrongs perpetrated by the rebels 
 upon their comrades or upon Southern Unionists. After 
 capture, instead of meeting with violence, abuse, and jeers, 
 the rebel prisoners found their captors kindly disposed toward 
 and interested in them. They generally bear testimony to 
 the fact that rations were shared with them, and such gener- 
 ous offices of relief and assistance as were not inconsistent 
 with their position as prisoners were freely rendered, where 
 the need existed. When not to be immediately paroled or 
 exchanged, the captives were sent to some of the large prison 
 camps at the North which had been prepared for their 
 accommodation. The largest of these were located at 
 Indianapolis, Ind. ; Columbus, Ohio ; Chicago, 111.; Elmira, 
 N. Y. ; Fort Delaware, Del. ; St. Louis, Mo. ; Finn's Point, 
 Md. ; Point Lookout, Md. ; Rock Island, 111.; Johnson's 
 Island, Ohio; and Alton, 111. 
 
 Many of the above camps had been in use as places of 
 rendezvous for Union troops until they were in readiness to 
 take the field. They were all selected with a special view to 
 salubrity, and for the facilities they afforded to meet the wants 
 of large bodies of men as regards water, fuel, and supplies. 
 The quarters provided for the prisoners were precisely the 
 same as for United States soldiers, and consisted, generally, 
 of wooden barracks, arranged with bunks, well heated with 
 stoves, and plentifully supplied with bedding of clean straw 
 and blankets. To some extent tents had to be brought into 
 requisition, but they were always fitted up with stoves for cold 
 weather, and the Federal soldiers engaged in guard duty were 
 quartered in all cases the same as the prisoners. Cook-houses, 
 with full capacity and every convenience for preparing well 
 cooked food, existed in every camp. The cooks were selected 
 from among the prisoners themselves, so that if the cooking 
 was not to their satisfacdon, it was in their power to rectify 
 it. The food was the same as supplied to United States 
 soldiers, and was ample in every respect. The prisoners 
 were arranged in divisions, with chiefs of their own, who 
 
— 6 — 
 
 attended to the distribution of rations, allotting to each man 
 his proper share. Hospital buildings were fitted up the same 
 as for Union soldiers, and the dietary and service accorded 
 the prisoners was every bit as good as to our own troops. It 
 is the testimony of Miss Dix, whose great good deeds in the 
 interests of afflicted humanity are everywhere known, that, in 
 several hospitals for rebel prisoners which she visited, there 
 was even a greater abundance of all that tends to comfort and 
 sustain the sick than in the hospitals for Union soldiers. Not 
 only the sick, but also the prisoners generally, were permitted 
 to receive food and clothing from friends and sympathizers. 
 All money in possession of prisoners, or sent them by their 
 friends, was, in order to prevent bribery of guards and escape, 
 taken charge of by the prison authorities. It was placed to 
 their credit, and could be drawn upon to purchase anything in 
 the sutlers' stocks. The prisoners received the full benefit of 
 it. Any surplus was turned over to them at the exchange, or 
 in case of death it was transferred to the hospital fund for sick 
 prisoners. They were supplied with newspapers, periodicals, 
 and books, by private individuals and charitable organizations 
 at the North, and in a number of prisons they had the advan- 
 tage of circulating libraries secured to them through the 
 efforts of the prison officials. Vegetables, fruits, and delicacies 
 were sent in by outside parties in no unstinted measure ; 
 indeed, they were ofttimes so liberally ministered unto as to 
 cause serious discontent among the guards, who were 
 neglected, and confined to the army rations. Clothing of all 
 kinds required by a soldier was issued in accordance as a need 
 for it was manifested, and the rebels, while prisoners of war, 
 were better and more comfortably clad than while serving 
 the Confederacy in the field. Facilities for the observance of 
 personal cleanliness were within the reach of all. The con- 
 solations of religion were not denied them. Chaplains were 
 appointed to every camp ; and ministers, and all who went in 
 the name of religion, were given ready access at all appro- 
 priate times. No restrictions were put upon the prisoners as 
 to speech or action, so that they were not disorderly, and did 
 
— 7 — 
 
 not crowd together in certain portions of the camp so as to 
 excite apprehensions of an organized attempt at escape. 
 The drainage of all camps was well looked after, the grounds 
 were kept thoroughly policed, and accumulations of dirt and 
 offal were removed daily. On admission to the hospital, 
 patients underwent a thorough ablution, were arrayed in clean 
 garments, and placed in comfortable beds, while their cast-off 
 clothing was thoroughly renovated and held in waiting for 
 their recovery. In case of death, the body was interred in a 
 decent, plain wooden coffin, and buried in a grave numbered 
 and marked with the name of the deceased. So carefully were 
 the interments made, that, out of 30,716 Confederates who died 
 in Northern prisons, only 726 sleep in unknown graves — the 
 most of these at Alton, 111., where, from some unknown 
 cause, 662 graves bear no marks by which they can be 
 identified. 
 
 Notwithstanding the generous treatment they received, it 
 is not surprising that the Confederate prisoners did not regard 
 their confinement at the North as the most blissful period of 
 their lives. Although they had a sufficiency of space, shelter, 
 food, and clothing, with everything held requisite to meet the 
 ordinary demands of existence, yet they were deprived of 
 liberty, under the strictest military supervision, annoyed by 
 daily roll-calls and inspections," wearied by the same unvarying 
 daily routine and associations, depressed by unfavorable 
 intelligence, or none at all, and heart-sick from long dis- 
 appointed hopes. It is not at all improbable that many suffered 
 from extremes of cold or heat. There were few soldiers of 
 the Union, in field or quarters, who did not likewise experience 
 discomfort when the mercury was carried to either extremity 
 of the thermometric scale. There was some danger, too, of 
 being shot by guards. While but a very small percentage 
 were shot, and the guards did not indulge in reckless or 
 unwarrantable shooting, there were prisoners who would 
 sometimes make a bold break for liberty, and those who dis- 
 regarded the repeated orders of the guards, thus drawing 
 upon themselves the fire of their guns. In some of these 
 
— 8 — 
 
 instances bullets flew wide of the mark, and prisoners who 
 were in no wise concerned in such breaches of prison rules 
 were wounded or killed. Disease was also present within the 
 prison walls, for the most part brought in by the prisoners them- 
 selves. They bore about with them small-pox, malarial dis- 
 orders, diarrhoea, dysentery, consumption, and fevers. The 
 ratio of disease, however, constantly decreased with the length 
 of stay in prison, but the grim reaper garnered a rich harvest 
 in the place where his coming is most unwelcome, although 
 he sets the prisoner free. 
 
 The average mortality among all the rebel prisoners at 
 the North was 13^ per cent., or 7^ out of each hundred. 
 The highest death rate was at Elmira, N. Y., 2,980 dying 
 out of 12,147 confined there — a mortality of 25 per cent., or 
 25 out of each hundred. No other Northern prison ap- 
 proached anywhere near to it. Even this very large mortality 
 was less than one-half of the average mortality of Union 
 prisoners in the South, which was 53 per cent., or 53 out of 
 each hundred. The greatest mortality among the rebel 
 prisoners, with the solitary exception of those at Elmira, 
 occurred during the first months of confinement, the health 
 constantly improving, notwithstanding the prevalence of 
 small-pox, after the first few months ; in this respect differing 
 from the rebel prisons, where the mortuary rate increased with 
 duration of confinement. 
 
 Undoubtedly hardships were experienced through inade- 
 quate hospital accommodations at the period of greatest 
 mortality at Elmira and some other points, affording some 
 basis of fact for the condemnation which writers on the 
 Southern side have bestowed upon prison management at the 
 North. But that there was culpable neglect or inhuman 
 treatment of inmates is not borne out by the statements of 
 prisoners entitled to credit. The same complaints find 
 expression everywhere in regard to municipal hospitals and 
 public institutions in times of great and unexpected increase 
 of the sick list. The reports of starvation, cruel treatment, 
 and brutal punishments published through the Southern press 
 
— 9 — 
 
 are mere fabrications, invented to offset the true statements of 
 Union soldiers concerning the horrible prison hells of the 
 Confederacy. There are scores of former soldiers, now 
 residents of Cincinnati and surrounding country, who, during 
 their term of service, were assigned to guard duty over rebel 
 prisoners of war at prisons both East and West. What has 
 been here stated in reference to the conduct of these prisons 
 they corroborate in every particular. These men as citizens, 
 in social and business life, stand upon so high a plane as to 
 admit of no questioning the positive statements they make 
 concerning the prison management of which they have 
 personal knowledge. Less numerous, perhaps, but not less 
 reliable, are those in this community who were formerly 
 prisoners of war at the South. They affirm that the returned 
 rebel prisoners they had the opportunity to meet at the South 
 during and at the close of the war, made willing acknowl- 
 edgment of the very best treatment in every respect of Con- 
 federates while they were held captive at the North. Not 
 only this, but with their better feelings touched by the objects 
 of pity all about them, they confessed their shame and 
 humiliation that human beings should have been brought to 
 such a pass upon Southern soil as the Union prisoners there 
 paroled, or awaiting parole. 
 
 In only two instances were measures of retaliation put in 
 operation against any considerable number of rebel prisoners 
 for all the terrible inflictions visited upon the Union prisoners 
 by the Confederate authorities. One of these cases was where 
 General Butler placed Confederates in the works at Dutch 
 Gap, to check the forced employment of Unionists upon the 
 rebel rortifications around Richmond. The other was at 
 Charleston, when United States officers, prisoners of war, 
 were placed under fire by the rebels, General John G. Foster 
 exposed an equal number of rebel officers on Morris Island to 
 the fire of the rebel guns. In both these instances the desired 
 result was accomplished. The Confederates stopped their 
 objectionable proceedings. It is true, that in November, 1863 
 Secretary Stanton ordered the United States Commissioner of 
 
lO — 
 
 Exchange *' to subject the rebel prisoners in our hands to 
 treatment similar to that which our men receive in rebe^ 
 prisons/' The Commissioner replied that human nature 
 would not submit to such treatment under an ordinary system 
 of guards, and the order was never executed. Union soldiers 
 and officers could not have been found so destitute of all the 
 common attributes of humanit}' as was requisite for such work. 
 
 TREATMENT OF PRISONERS AT THE SOUTH. 
 
 In a Confederacy founded upon servile labor, the leaders 
 held all labor as degrading, and the worker as but little 
 superior to a brute. They affected to hold in contempt the 
 population of the North, which allowed to every individual 
 the greatest freedom of action consistent with the general 
 good, held honest toil in the highest respect, recognized 
 the universal brotherhood of man, and were unequalled in 
 intelligence and industry upon the face of the globe. The 
 free people of the North were denominated "mudsills," 
 *' hirelings," "serfs," "boors," "cattle," declared groveling by 
 nature, brutal through instinct, hellish in propensity, and pos- 
 sessed of peculiar organs of bodily development belonging only 
 to the brute creation. This sort of stuff filled the Southern 
 prints, and was proclaimed from the rostrum and pulpit, until 
 quite a large portion of the population of the South, honest 
 enough, but uninformed, and accustomed to implicit reliance 
 upon their leaders, actually believed that they were in political 
 alliance with a species of ogres. President Lincoln -was 
 pictured as a hideous ape, and Vice-President Hamlin as a 
 thick-lipped, woolly-headed " nigger." When the General 
 Government, after the ordinance of secession had been passed, 
 and an overt act of war committed by the seizure of United 
 States property, prepared to re-establish its authority, the 
 chiefs of rebellion, while manifesting a pacific disposition in 
 the expression of a desire to be let alone, were nevertheless 
 active in inflaming their people to a white heat of passion. It 
 was announced that their soil was about to be invaded by 
 
1 1 
 
 " vandals,'' "spoilers," " ravishers," "fiends," who were to 
 be " welcomed with bloody hands to hospitable graves," but 
 accorded no rights of belligerents. Long tyranny over a slave 
 population had so brutalized their natures, that not a few of 
 the public men and journals of the South boldly advocated the 
 policy oi hoisting the black flag — that is, showing no mercy to 
 prisoners, but killing all whom fate might deliver over to them — 
 wounded, or sick, or well. The infamous treatment which 
 unfortunates of war in the South subsequently experienced is 
 fully foreshadowed in the utterances of politicians, press, and 
 pulpit, and in letters to Jefferson Davis and members of his 
 cabinet, now among the captured rebel archives at Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 As the legitimate outcome of the feeling engendered, as 
 above outlined, when Union prisoners were taken they were 
 most generall}^ threatened, insulted, or violently dealt with. 
 First, upon the battle-field, they were beaten, shot, or bayonet- 
 ted, made the recipients of the most vile and blasphemous 
 epithets, and robbed of personal property, jewelry, money, 
 pocket articles, mess utensils, blankets, overcoats, hats, coats, 
 pants or boots ; in not a few instances stripped nearly naked. 
 The journey to a receiving prison not rarely occupied from 
 several days to a week. The guarding force was usually 
 cavalry. The prisoners were hurried along by their mounted 
 escort ; the sick and wounded spurred along with the rest ; and 
 when the physical strength was spent beyond resuscitation by 
 any kind of goading, so that they fell out of the line unable 
 to keep up, they were shot, cut down by sabres, or brained 
 by clubbed muskets, and left for dead by the wayside. 
 Sometimes a rope was tied around the body of a disabled cap- 
 tive, the free end made fast to the saddle of a guard, and thus 
 the life dragged out of the poor victim. Very little food, if 
 any, was supplied upon such marches. Rebel troops encoun- 
 tered upon the journey still further despoiled and abused the 
 prisoners. Where railroad transportation was included in 
 the route, box cars, in which cattle had been transported, 
 were provided. Very often the cars were in the same condition 
 
12 — 
 
 in which the cattle had left them. Into such conveyances the 
 prisoners were packed so thickly that, stow themselves as 
 snugly as they could, there was not seating room upon the 
 floor for all. The doors were only left open about two feet, 
 which space was obstructed by guards, excluding air and 
 light. The prisoners were kept back from the openings, so 
 that they were reduced to the level of animals going to the 
 shambles, except that the latter were not so closely packed 
 that they could not lie down, and have some little freedom of 
 movement. The sufferings of such a passage ma}^ be imagined ; 
 they may not be here described. 
 
 Upon arrival at the receiving prison they were drawn 
 up in line to be searched. Here money, jewelry, and articles 
 of use which had escaped the observation or desires of the 
 captors were taken from them. Where it was suspected the 
 clothing contained articles of value concealed, they were 
 stripped naked, the lining and seams of the clothing ripped 
 out, and, in this condition, it was tossed back to the owners to 
 be put in shape for use again as best they might. Nothing 
 was ever returned, nor was anything given to take the place 
 of knives, forks, spoons, plates, cups, clothing, or blankets, of 
 which they had been despoiled. Protests were responded to 
 by blows and even by shooting to the death. The- search 
 over, installment in prison quarters followed. 
 
 The prisons at Richmond and Danville, up to the spring of 
 1864, held the great bulk of prisoners in the Confederacy. 
 The prisons of Richmond, with the exception of Belle Isle, 
 were old tobacco warehouses, all three stories in height with 
 an attic; and they differed only in size, Libby Prison being 
 the largest. In 1863 they were all crowded to their full 
 capacity. An account of Smith Prison will serve for Pember- 
 ton, Scott, Castle Thunder, and the rest. Each floor of Smith 
 Prison had an area of 2,400 square feet, and it was so packed 
 with prisoners that they had only four square feet each, just 
 sufficient for standing room. There were no stools, benches, 
 or bunks upon which to rest themselves — nothing but the 
 bare floor and walls. In order to be able to lie down, rows 
 
— 13 — 
 
 had to be formed lengthwise across the room, and, the first 
 row lying down upon their sides, the second row followed, 
 interlocking legs with the first, and so with the other rows 
 until the floor was everywhere covered with a compact mass 
 of humanity. The space did not permit lying upon the back. 
 After being thus welded in, it was impossible for an individual 
 to turn over without the whole two rows did likewise. Water 
 was furnished in pipes to each floor, and faucets and sinks 
 were located at one end of the rooms in each story. There 
 were no receptacles for water beyond a wooden tub at the 
 faucet, which economical provision, together with the close 
 packing of the prisoners, rendered general bathing and wash- 
 ing of clothes an impossibility. From overflow at the sinks, 
 and spilling of water by jostling as it was carried in cups to 
 sick or disabled men in various parts of the room, the floor 
 was kept constantly wet, so that the captives were ever present 
 in a cold, foul, moisture-saturated atmosphere. No approach 
 was permitted to the windows ; for if the guard below caught 
 sight of a prisoner, he was immediately shot. No stoves or 
 any means of warming were furnished for cold weather, and to 
 keep warm the guests of Confederate prisons must tramp 
 around and slap themselves day and night. Death was busy 
 among tliem, and would soon have made sufficient floor space, 
 had not fresh prisoners been continually added. " Lice were 
 in all their quarters." The prisoner who would keep himself 
 measureably clear of these pests had his hands never idle. 
 
 The rations at Richmond and Danville were issued cooked. 
 They were essentially the same at all the prisons in the Con- 
 federacy — with the exception of Savannah, where suflicient 
 food of good quality was furnished — and consisted of eight 
 ounces of bread and two ounces of yellow, maggoty bacon, 
 or, in place of the bacon, a proportionate amount of fresh 
 beef. The bread was generally corn bread, made from meal 
 ground corn and cob together, simply mixed with salt and 
 water and baked hard. Sometimes a thin decoction called 
 soup was served, made up of water, and long worms, bugs, and 
 brown beans in about equal proportions. Occasionally, too, a 
 
— 14— 
 
 tablespoonful of rice per man added luxury to the fare. If any 
 escapes had been made, or a board of the prison floor ripped 
 up, the rations were withheld for a day or two, nor was the 
 deficit ever made good. Upon such diet the weight and 
 strength rapidly declined. As the body became thinner the 
 angularities and protuberances of the bony skeleton grew into 
 prominence. This interfered with rest on account of the 
 difficulty of comfortably adapting the man}' inequalities of a 
 lean human body to the plane of a hard, level floor. An 
 almost continual shifting of position told that it was impossi- 
 ble to equalize the pressure long in any situation suitable to 
 wholesome slumber. Soreness and aching took hold on the 
 more salient osseous projections all over the frame. Sleep 
 only seemed to add more cruel pangs to the hunger which 
 consumed whilst awake. The sleeper always dreamed of 
 excursions in quest of food, or of gorgeous banquets, at which 
 he never failed to become surfeited. Awakening, with the 
 vision of abundance before him, the cravings of starving 
 tissues gnawed with tenfold intensity. It was impossible to 
 keep still ; there was an aimless walking up and down, search- 
 ing with the eyes every inch of the walls, ceilings, and floor, 
 although it was perfectly apparent that plain brick walls and 
 floors, and open, unplastered joists which had been thoroughly 
 explored numberless times before, could not change their 
 appearance; could show no hiding place or secret passage; 
 could afford no succor, comfort, or any hope of escape. 
 
 Belle Isle was an island in the James River opposite Rich- 
 mond, just above the Danville Railroad bridge. The upper 
 part was high ground covered with trees, but the lower por- 
 tion was a sand flat, unprotected from the scorching sun of 
 summer or the cutting winds of winter. This barren spot 
 was surrounded by a deep, wide ditch, and earth works, and 
 an average number of (\ve thousand prisoners were there 
 confined. Some old rotten Sibley tents were given for shelter, 
 but with the utmost crowding they were not sufficient for one- 
 half the prisoners. No stoves being provided, the inmates 
 built chimneys of mud, which, however, afforded them little 
 
— 15— 
 
 comfort, since the wood issued per day was not sufficient to last 
 more than an hour and a half with the most careful use. In 
 the severe winter of 1863-4, when the river was frozen over 
 and the ground often covered with snow, the starving captives 
 upon this bleak sand waste were in terrible straits. The great 
 majority were without shoes, stockings, or shirts. Many, 
 too, were without coats or pants, and the clothing [possessed 
 by the most fortunate among them was simply tattered rags. 
 To husband the warmth of their famishing bodies they 
 dug pits in the damp sand, and lay piled upon one another 
 in them like hogs, the outside layers changing to the in- 
 side when they could no longer withstand the cold. Every 
 night there were a number who ceased to change places, and 
 morning found them cold in death. The living, to cover their 
 own necessities, took the clothing from the bodies no longer 
 m need of it, and everything went on as usual. Though 
 water flowed all around them, they were denied its free use. 
 Only six were allowed to pass to the river at a time during 
 the day, and none at all at night. In consequence, to procure 
 a sufficiency of this vital fluid, they had to dig holes in the 
 camp, which filled up with water ; and, although foul from camp 
 pollutions, inexorable necessity forced its use. In the full 
 view of Richmond, under the eye of Jefferson Davis himself, 
 these men died off" like plague-stricken sheep. Food and 
 clothing sent them by the United States Government, and 
 by relatives at the North, they derived little benefit from, 
 since nine-tenths was appropriated by the rebels. The only 
 advantage which the sick had over the others on Belle Isle 
 was in the thin layer of straw which covered the ground 
 under the hospital tents.. 
 
 At Danville the prisoners were quartered in old tobacco 
 warehouses— packed together as at Richmond. Their con- 
 dition was even more deplorable at Danville, since they had 
 to procure their water supply from the Dan River, some dis- 
 tance removed, carrying it in buckets. Hence they suffered 
 greatly from thirst, besides being wholly unable to obtain 
 enough for washing purposes. From insufficiency of sink 
 
— 16— 
 
 accommodations they were obliged to live and sleep in their 
 own tilth. It may be said of the prison hospitals at Richmond 
 and Danville, that, by comparison with other such places in 
 the Confederacy, they were entitled to be considered luxurious 
 sick quarters. Not that any delights were ever experienced 
 by the sick there which the memory would fondly linger over, 
 but they were provided with bunks and beds, enough straw, 
 old blankets, and quilts to afford them warmth, together with 
 enough wheat bread, and soup hash, made up of meat and 
 potatoes, to support life in a well man, however much unsuited 
 such a diet might be to the wants of the sick. 
 
 Time does not permit more than a passing reference to 
 Salisbury, N. C, a Golgotha where 12,121 soldiers of the 
 Union perished, as at Belle Isle, from starvation and exposure, 
 a mortality of fifty per cent., or one death out of every two 
 prisoners confined there. The record of horrors which Salis- 
 bury discloses is scarcely less appalling than is furnished by 
 the prison stockade at Andersonville, Ga., which enclosed 
 within its portals more of human misery, more of human 
 endurance, devotion, patriotism, and heroism than was ever 
 exhibited upon any other equal area of surface upon earth. 
 
 In December, 1863, while erecting the stockade at Ander^ 
 sonville. Captain W. S. Winder said that he was "going to 
 build a pen that would kill more damned Yankees than could 
 be destroyed at the front." The original enclosure included 
 about fifteen acres, which was enlarged to twenty-five acres 
 in August, 1864. The only internal improvements the rebels 
 had arranged for the reception of the prisoners were a dead 
 line, and some old tents for hospital purposes in one corner 
 of the pen. All else was in a state of nature, except that 
 the trees had been cut away. The first few thousand prisoners 
 from Belle Isle, installed in March, 1864, were allowed, under 
 guard, to bring in wood from the forest, with which they con- 
 structed rude hovels like primitive pig pens, but capable of 
 shielding them from the weather. No such privilege, how- 
 ever, was extended to those subsequently turned in, a large 
 percentage of whom were old prisoners from Richmond and 
 
— 17 — 
 
 Danville. Thrown thus upon their own resources, some dug 
 burrows in the ground, some piled up circular banks of earth 
 which they covered over with blankets, coats, or shirts, and 
 crawled beneath ; others moulded clay into the shape of bricks, 
 dried them in the sun, and, by inclosing the walls together, 
 made adobes of beehive form, into which they could creep; 
 while many, too weak or disheartened to resort to such "'shifts 
 for shelter, remained wholly unprotected from sun, and dews, 
 and storms. 
 
 A swamp about four hundred feet in width occupied the 
 center of the pen, through the middle of which coursed a 
 brook four feet wide by two feet deep. This stream furnished 
 the water supply for the prisoners for all purposes. The rebel 
 camps were located on it just about where it passed into the 
 stockade, and, as all their camp waste was discharged 
 directly into it, the water was already polluted when it entered 
 the prison enclosure. From the edge of the swamp, upon 
 either side, the ground rose very considerably, carrying all 
 the drainage to the swamp and stream. The stream thus 
 became an open sewer, and the vile sewerage flowing through 
 it, the fluid with which 31,000 men must slake their thirst and 
 use in place of pure water for all cleansing oflices. If a 
 prisoner reached under the dead line to obtain a purer drink 
 than could be obtained inside of it, he was at once shot by 
 the guard, ever on the watch for the shadow of a pretext to do 
 a murderous deed. It is true that some of the prisoners dug 
 wells, from which they obtained water of fair quality ; but for 
 the general mass there was no other alternative than to employ 
 the disgusting compound of the brook, until the latter part of 
 August, 1864, when a never-failing spring of crystal water 
 burst forth in the stockade, and it was hailed as a direct gift 
 from God. After heavy rains the whole marsh overflowed, 
 forming a lake of excrementitious matter. The evaporations 
 from this gave rise to nauseous, noxious vapors, which were a 
 source of annoyance to even citizens for miles around. The 
 subsidence of the waters left the surface of the morass covered 
 over with a mass of reeking filth, quivering with the move- 
 
— i8 — 
 
 ments of the lowest forms of insect life. At night pestilential 
 fogs arose from the bog, filling the whole enclosure with a 
 saturating, sickening, oppressive mist. Men enfeebled 
 through starvation and disease, in crawling to the stream for 
 water, became mired in the horrible ooze of the swamp, and 
 thus jnelded up the ghost. 
 
 The dead and dying were everywhere. In the holes 
 which they had dug, to be revealed only by the odors of 
 decomposition ; half buried in the terrible grime of the swamp ; 
 while all over the stockade, exposed to the scorching rays of 
 the noonday sun, in all their ghastly hideousness, were skeleton 
 forms whose light had flickered out for want of fuel to feed it. 
 The dead, bare of clothing, were piled like cordwood into 
 army wagons, hauled out to the cemetery, thrown side by side 
 into a long ditch, and a layer of dirt shoveled over them. 
 The same wagons, uncleansed, containing putrid remnants of 
 their former freight, brought in the rations to the living. 
 Great swarms of flies hovered about them, and announced 
 their coming by a hum which filled the air, and mufiled all 
 other sounds. To one-half the camp the rations were issued 
 cooked, and to one-hall uncooked, alternating with each 
 issue. The wood furnished was pilch pine, but not more than 
 one-eighth of what was requisite for the proper cooking of the 
 food. When ignited, it gave ofl' a dense oily smoke, which 
 begrimed the prisoners like soot, and which, for lack of soap, 
 they were unable to remove. The whole skin became black- 
 ened, the Saxon features and straight hair forming the only 
 points of distinction from the negro. Deprived of cooking 
 utensils, pieces of tin, bits of chips, and stones were the only 
 available substitutes for pots and kettles. From the crumbling 
 of the meal, however, but one side could be heated with such 
 miserable appliances, so that, at best, the ration was not more 
 than half cooked, and thus had to be eaten. Many were 
 destitute of even a chip or a stone, and were forced to ingest 
 their food raw. With famine pressing ever harder and harder, 
 numbers of men lost all moral sense, and thought only of self- 
 preservation. They openly robbed weaker men of rations or 
 
— 19 — 
 
 possessions, and murdered stronger ones while they slept in 
 order to obtain anything, of even the slightest value, they 
 might have upon their persons. Words fail to paint the 
 horrors oi the place. The very soil seemed to crawl from the 
 swarms of vermin upon it. Here and there throughout the 
 squalid skeleton throng were the subjects of diarrhoea and 
 dysentery in process of dissolution. Wallowing in their own 
 refuse, the vermin crawling and rioting upon their flesh, 
 tumbling into eyes, ears, and open mouths, while maggots fed 
 beneath the skin where scurvy sores had broken open. The 
 ravages of gangrene were to be seen upon every hand, the 
 flesh eaten from the limbs, exposing ligaments and bones, and 
 the great worms revelling in the putrid flesh. Scurvy had 
 fixed its seal upon nearly every prison inmate, and most 
 horrible are its aspects in its extreme stages. Those nearly 
 naked shapes of men, with glassy, sunken eyes, hollow 
 cheeks, parchment skin, and with bones projecting bare of 
 tissue through scurvy-destroyed structures, conveyed to the 
 mind the idea of life after death, as though they had been 
 resurrected after long burial, and had the breath of life infused. 
 Here, too, groped blind men whom scurvy or gangrene had 
 robbed of sight, begging most piteously lor food — food, the 
 want of which was graven on every lineament of the whole 
 mass, whose intense yearning, although it broke not forth in 
 articulate accents, was none the less powerful and plaintive. 
 Gaping idiots, with their lusterless orbs fixed upon vacancy, 
 wandered aimlessly around, until their undirected steps 
 crossed the dead line, when the fatal bullet sped them to their 
 rest. Reason had fled — small wonder — from those poor 
 wretches, who tore their rags, gnashed their teeth, howled 
 and muttered, and cursed, and precipitated themselves upon 
 their fate as they made an insane rush for the stockade. The 
 tents, which it were a mockery to call hospitals, presented a 
 spectacle of monumental wretchedness without parallel in 
 ancient or modern history. Three thousand men were lying 
 there upon the bare ground, uncovered by anything except the 
 filthiest rags, which were saturated with purulent matter and 
 
20 
 
 green with mould. They had been placed there to die. As 
 they rotted away, tortured with intense pain, the dead flesh 
 dropping from their bones upon the sand, with swarms of flies 
 and vermin preying upon them, and hideous worms, too 
 greedy to wait till life was extinct, tumbling, and revelling, 
 and rioting in the putrid mass, all that escaped their lips was 
 the low, moaning, pleading cry for food. 
 
 Thus these martyrs for the Union died and were buried, 
 like pest-stricken animals, without benefit of clergy. The 
 Protestant clergy of the South generally passed by on the 
 other side. There were, of course, individual instances of 
 generous conduct ; but no class in the South was more bitter 
 it its hatred, more devoid of charity toward Northern soldiers, 
 than the Southern clergy. They were swift to furnish cer- 
 tificates of immaculate Christian character to the fiends who 
 starved and tortured thousands of Federal prisoners, but few 
 acts of mercy toward the sufferers has the recording angel 
 credited to their account. In marked contrast was the con- 
 duct of the Catholic clergy at Andersonville and elsewhere. 
 Only hearts into which had been poured the fullness of divine 
 love were endowed with the courage and grace to be God's 
 messengers in those fearful prison hells. Such divine seal 
 bore the Sisters of Charity at Charleston, and the Rev. VVm.J. 
 Hamilton and other priests at Andersonville. Crawling into 
 the burrows, swarming with insect pests and reeking with 
 corruption, these devoted men administered the last consola- 
 tions of their church to the skeleton creatures with the agony 
 of death upon them. Not only spiritually minded were they, 
 but they were also practical Samaritans. Turnips, potatoes, 
 onions, radishes, were secreted in their clothing, which they 
 furtively slipped into the hand of one and another scurvy- 
 ravished wretch, so as not to attract the attention of the guard. 
 
 The brutal punishments, the shameful indignities, the 
 systematic, studied efforts to destroy the loyalty and wholly 
 crush the spirits of these men, must be passed over without 
 comment. It is sufficient to say that no equal body of men 
 in such woeful straits could have been more faithful, patient, 
 
— 21 
 
 undismayed, and uncomplaining. With flaming posters upon 
 the stockade, and recruiting agents every day mounted upon 
 the parapet, offering abundant food, clothing, and pay to all 
 who would accept service under the Confederacy, only 580 ot 
 the famished, pestilence-smitten multitude at Andersonville 
 were seduced from their allegiance to the stars and stripes-. 
 Out of the whole number of pitiably distressed prisoners in 
 the Confederacy, only about 3,000 held their lives more 
 sacred than their soldierly honor, and enlisted in the rebel 
 army. Most of these, however, were soon returned back to 
 their prison quarters, since they were ever seeking oppor- 
 tunities to get within the Union lines. 
 
 Rebel prison treatment occasioned the death of 50,000 
 Federal soldiers. Some of these deaths must naturally have 
 occurred, and allowing for these 13^ per cent, (the average 
 mortality of rebel prisoners at the North), the mortality should 
 have been 12,592 for the 94,072 Union prisoners, leaving 
 37,508 who were the direct victims of starvation, overcrov\d- 
 ing, and exposure. Of the whole who died, 43,000 repose in 
 Southern soil, and 7,000 died during transportation North, or 
 in hospitals shortly after arrival. The total number killed 
 upon the Union side in all the engagements of the war was 
 44,238, or 5,762 less than were destroyed in rebel prisons ! 
 The average deaths for all the rebel prisons is thus 53 percent., 
 or 53 deaths out of every 100 prisoners. Nearly one-half of 
 this mortality is due to Andersonville. While the interments 
 at that place number but 13,705, yet the prisoners confined 
 there were distributed to Florence, Charleston, Millen, Black- 
 shear, Eufaula, Cahawba, Savannah, and other places ; so 
 that the mortality at these prison stations, as pertaining to old 
 prisoners at Andersonville, may properly be added. 40,611 
 Union soldiers passed through the portals of that infamous 
 pen, of which number 23,000 perished, a mortality of 59 per 
 cent., or 59 out of each 100. Of 94,072 Union prisoners held 
 by the rebels, 50,000 died. Of 227,570 Confederate prisoners 
 held by the United States, 30,152 died. To have attained a 
 mortality rate in the Northern prisons equal to that in the 
 
— 22 — 
 
 Southern prisons there should have been 120,602 deaths out 
 of the 227,570 Confederate prisoners, instead of 30,152. 
 
 The people of the South, generally, may be absolved from 
 willing complicity in the heinous system of treatment, which, 
 through the most cruel torments, deprived 50,000 men of life, 
 "and made physical wrecks of thousands more. Citizens in 
 the vicinity of all prisons sought to alleviate the condition of 
 the inmates, but they were roughly repulsed by the authorities. 
 Letters protesting against the atrocious prison management, as 
 a crime appealing to God, were sent to Jefferson Davis by 
 citizens and guards, and he was urged to set the prisoners free 
 if it was not possible to give them what they were entitled to 
 as human beings. To the members of the rebel congress, 
 and governors of states, who remonstrated with him concern- 
 ing the treatment of prisoners, he justified it solely on the 
 ground of "polic}^." In carrying out this infamous policy he 
 found a fit agent in his particular friend. General John H. 
 Winder. Early in 1864, when Winder left Richmond to 
 assume charge at Andersonville, the Richmond Examiner 
 thus editorially hailed his departure : "Thank God that Rich- 
 mond is at last rid of old Winder. God have mercy upon 
 those to whom he has been sent." In a report upon Anderson- 
 ville, August 5, 1864, Colonel D. T. Chandler, of the Con- 
 federate Inspector-General's office, after characterizing the 
 prison as "a disgrace to civilization," with horrors surpassing 
 description, advises the removal of General Winder as one 
 wholly devoid of feelings of humanity, who "deliberately, and 
 in cold blood," advocated leaving the prisoners in their over- 
 crowded condition until death had so thinned them as to give 
 sufficient space. Jeff". Davis responded by promoting Winder 
 to the control of all prisoners east of the Mississippi. When 
 the fiendish creature Wirz was brought to trial for his crimes, 
 Jefferson Davis, then in Fortress Monroe, and James A. 
 Seddon, in Fort Lafayette, with visons of the halter before 
 them, had no more to say about "policy," but pleaded a state 
 of famine throughout the South in extenuation for the starva- 
 tion of prisoners. They summoned to their relief that master 
 
— 23 — 
 
 of deception and trickery, Robert Ould, whose keener mental 
 acumen saw that a defense could not be rested upon a poverty 
 of supplies alone, in the light of letters from the South— 
 among the captured archives— begging them to set the 
 prisoners free, and he boldly proceeded to shift the responsi- 
 bility for the destruction of Union prisoners upon the United 
 States Government by the preposterous claim that he had 
 offered to turn over these prisoners, without equivalent, to the 
 Federal Commissioner of Exchange, who had neglected to 
 provide transportation, according to his agreement. This was 
 unequivocably denied by the Commissioner, and Ould, while 
 acknowledging that his proposition was not written, only 
 verbal, sought to substantiate it by statements from one and 
 another in the South-^among others. General Lee— that he 
 (Ould) had told them, some time previously, that he had 
 made such a proposal. This invention of Ould's, at that time 
 to create a diversion in favor of the guilty heads of the rebel- 
 lion and save their necks, accomplished its purpose ; and rebel 
 apologists ever since have put it forward as an established 
 fact. Even as late as 1876 General Imboden, and another 
 genius, "to fortune and to fame unknown," have had the cool 
 effrontery to affirm, that, to their positive knowledge, large 
 bodies of prisoners were sent to posts within the Union lines 
 to be turned over upon a receipt from the post commander, 
 which, being refused, no alternative remained but to return 
 the prisoners again to their pens. No such thing ever happened. 
 Had it been so, with a desire to be relieved of these prisoners, 
 they would have turned them loose to take care of themselves, 
 upon their individual paroles. The dire responsibility for the 
 starving of prisoners is not to be shirked by any sort of fabri- 
 cation, however ingenious. It is no matter what caused the 
 cessation of exchange, it is no matter if all overtures for 
 exchange were refused by the Federal Government, provided 
 the Confederacy possessed the ability to feed the prisoreis in 
 Its hands. That supplies were withheld, which could have 
 been readily furnished, appears from the following facts : 
 
— 24 — 
 
 1. It is the testimon)^ of rebel surgeons at prison camps, 
 and of Catholic priests who visited them, that they were not 
 permitted to carry in articles of food to the prisoners. Also 
 of rebel citizens that they were not allowed to minister to their 
 necessities, although they made attempts to do so. 
 
 2. A plentiful food supply was offered to all who would 
 enter the Confederate service, and it was given to those who 
 did. 
 
 3. The great bulk of the supplies sent by the United States 
 Government and citizens was appropriated by the Confederate 
 authorities, and but little reached the prisoners themselves. 
 
 4. An abundant ration, of good quality, was issued to 
 prisoners at Savannah at the very time it was claimed there 
 was nothing to give the prisoners at Andersonville. 
 
 5. There was no wholesale starvation of citizens or negroes. 
 
 6. General Sherman subsisted his arm}- upon the country 
 in the neighborhood of the rebel prisons, and found supplies 
 in profusion. 
 
 One feature of the exchange question may be alluded to, 
 since it has been urged that the rebel authorities would not 
 wish to destroy their prisoners, as in that event they must rob 
 themselves of their own soldiers, prisoners at the North, for 
 whom they would have no exchange equivalent. It was 
 always insisted upon by the Confederate commissioner of ex- 
 change, when the balance of prisoners was against them, as 
 a basis of a general exchange, that all surplus prisoners should 
 be turned over, under parole. Thus, to whatever verge they 
 might reduce Union prisoners, in any agreement foi a general 
 exchange they were always sure of receiving back all their 
 own. 
 
 However harrowing the sufferings and death of the true 
 soldiers of the Republic in Southern prisons, they lived and 
 died not in vain. They kept back from the lines confronting 
 Grant and Sherman nearl}^ three to one of their numbers of 
 able-bodied veteran rebel soldiers. According to General 
 Grant, the very salvation of the country depended upon them ; 
 for, if the host they held at bay was added to the hostile ranks? 
 
— 25 — 
 
 as it would have been in case of a general exchange, regardless 
 of the obligations of parole, repeatedly violated before when 
 the urgency was not so great, the armies of Grant and Sher- 
 man might have been overwhelmed, and a Southern Con- 
 federacy established. And there is left as a rich legacy for 
 all time, the sublime heroism they displayed in their unswerv- 
 ing devotion to the flag they loved, under whatever inflictions 
 or temptations, and the declaration, sealed with their lives, 
 that they were content to roL and die if the interests of their 
 country demanded it. 
 
 Upon Jefferson Davis and his advisers rests the fearful 
 weight of responsibility for the ruthless sacrifice of these men. 
 Winder, Seddon, and Wirz have gone to their account. Jeff'. 
 Davis still lives, a phenomenal monument to the mercy of a 
 benignant government and a long suffering Providence. He 
 chews the cud of bitter disappointment, a thousand-fold 
 intensified by the unscrupulous effbrts he put forth to achieve 
 success. A burden to the South, over which he exercised an 
 absolute dictatorship, with the design of perpetuating it in 
 name as well as in fact, whose people he impoverished and 
 whose best blood he wasted, grown garrulous and more ran- 
 corous with age, he stands upon the brink of eternity. With 
 the light fading out from the twilight, with what apprehensions 
 must he turn his vision toward the great unknown ; what 
 forms of starving, tortured victims must beckon to him from 
 out the impenetrable shades. 
 
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