Chapter XXIII: News From Fortress Monroe

To minister to my husband’s aged parents dulled in some degree my own alarms, yet the wildest rumours continued to multiply as to the probably early trial and certainly awful fate of Mr. Davis and Mr. Clay. Controversies were waging in the press, both condemning and approving the actions of the Military Commission in Washington; yet, even in those still early days of his imprisonment, voices were raised in many localities to declare Mr. Clay’s incapability of the crimes imputed to him.[46]

Meantime, reputable men in Canada, who adduced indubitable proof of the truth of the accusations they made, had already assailed the characters of the witnesses upon whom the Bureau of Military Justice so openly relied to convict its distinguished prisoners—witnesses by whose testimony some had already perished on the gallows. How true these accusations were was proved a year later, when, his misdoings exposed on the floor of the House of Representatives, a self-confessed perjurer, Conover, the chief reliance of the Bureau of Military Justice, the chief accuser of my husband, fled the country. At this _dénouement_, Representative Rogers openly averred his belief that the flight of Conover, one of the most audacious of modern criminals, had been assisted by some one high in authority, in order to make impossible an investigation into the disgraceful culpability of the high unknown!

So early as June 10, 1865, a pamphlet had been printed and circulated throughout the country by the Rev. Stuart Robinson, exposing _seriatim_ the “Infamous Perjuries of the Bureau of the Military Justice.” It took the form of a letter to the Hon. H. H. Emmons, United States District-Attorney at Detroit, and was quoted, when not printed in full, by many leading newspapers. Throughout the closely printed pages the paper presented an exposé of the unworthy character of the most prominent witnesses on whose testimony the hapless Mrs. Surratt and her companions had been condemned to the gallows; witnesses, moreover, who were known to be the accusers of Mr. Davis and Mr. Clay, who, it was announced, were soon to be tried for complicity in the murder of the late Federal President. In his pamphlet, Mr. Robinson did not content himself with refuting the statements made by the miscreant witnesses. He went further and accused Mr. Holt (by name), head of the Bureau of Military Justice, of being _particeps criminis_ with the evil men whose testimony he so credulously or maliciously employed.

“If any one supposes,” wrote Mr. Robinson, “I have judged Mr. Holt uncharitably in making him _particeps criminis_ with this villain”—a notorious witness—“whom he parades and assists in the work of lying himself out of his previous perjuries by still more preposterous lies, let him carefully ponder this letter.... This is the man whom Judge Advocate Holt, after his perjuries have been exposed, brings back to the stand and assists in his attempts to force his lies down the throat of the American people. Who now,” Mr. Robinson continued, “is the base criminal—Judge Holt, or the men whom he seeks by such base and impudent perjuries, under the garb of sworn testimony, to defame?”

Such a brave challenge might well have been expected to give the Government pause. To the increased agony of our minds, its agents took no cognisance of Mr. Robinson’s fearless exposure, but ignored the protest with its startling array of charges, which easily might have been verified, and continued to rely upon its strange allies to assist in the persecution of its prison victims.

Instinct with the zeal of the fanatic, and intrenched behind the bewildered Mr. Johnson, the Head of the Bureau of Military Justice was indifferent alike to contumely and the appeals of even the merely just. In so far as the country at large might see, its Judge Advocate was imperial in his powers. The legality of the existence of the Bureau had been denied by the greatest jurists of the times; yet its dominating spirit was determined, despite the gravest warnings and condemnation, to railroad, by secret trial, the more distinguished of the prisoners to the gallows. “Thoughtful men,” Reverdy Johnson had said in his argument in the trial of Mrs. Surratt, “feel aggrieved that such a Commission should be established in this free country when the war is over, and when the common law courts are open and accessible. Innocent parties, sometimes by private malice, sometimes for a mere partisan purpose, sometimes from a supposed public policy, have been made the subjects of criminal accusation. History is full of such instances. How are such parties to be protected if a public trial be denied them, and a secret one in whole or in part be substituted?”

“The Judge Advocate said, in reply to my inquiries,” said Thomas Ewing, “that he would expect to convict _under the common law of war_. This is a term unknown to our language, _a quiddity_ incapable of definition.” And, again, “The Judge Advocate, with whom chiefly rests the fate of these citizens, from his position cannot be an impartial judge unless he be more than man. He is the Prosecutor in the most extended sense of the word. As in duty bound before this court was called, he received the reports of detectives, pre-examined the witnesses, prepared and officially signed the charges, and, as principal counsel for the Government, controlled on the trial the presentation, admission and rejection of evidence. In our courts of law, a lawyer who heard his client’s story, if transferred from the bar to the bench, may not sit in the trial of the cause, lest the ermine be sullied through the partiality of the counsel.”

To our sad household at distant Huntsville, each day, with its disquieting rumours and reports of these trials, added to our distress of mind. There was scarcely a man or woman in the South who did not prophesy that, the popular cry being “Vengeance,” and full military power in the hands of such men as Stanton and Holt, our former President and Mr. Clay would surely meet the fate of Mrs. Surratt.

Under the domination of such knowledge, my condition of mind was a desperate one. We were nearly a thousand miles removed from the seat of Government and from my husband’s prison. The Bureau of Military Justice, it was well known, was industriously seeking to convict its prisoners; while the latter, ignorant even of the charges against them, and denied the visits of counsel or friends, were helpless to defend themselves, however easy to obtain the proof might be. It were impossible for a wife, knowing her husband to be innocent, and resenting the ignobleness of a government which would thus refuse to a self-surrendered prisoner the courtesies the law allows to the lowest of criminals, to rest passively under conditions so alarming.

From the moment I stepped upon the soil of Georgia I renewed my appeals to those in the North of whose regard for my husband I felt assured. Among the first to respond were Charles O’Conor, of New York, T. W. Pierce, of Boston, R. J. Haldeman, and Benjamin Wood, editor and proprietor of the New York _Daily News_. Mr. Wood wrote spontaneously:

“I beg you to have full faith in my desire and exertions to relieve your noble husband from persecution, and to secure for him a prompt and impartial trial, and consequently an inevitable acquittal of the charge that has been infamously alleged against him. I will communicate immediately with Mr. O’Conor, Mr. Carlisle, Mr. Franklin Pierce, and Judge Black. Let me request you to accord me the pleasure of advancing to Mr. Clay, until his liberation, whatever sum may be necessary for the expenses attendant upon legal action for his defense, as, owing to his imprisonment and the present unsettled condition of your neighbourhood, there might be a delay that would prove prejudicial to his interests.”

“I have no idea he will be brought to trial,” wrote Mr. Pierce, on June 16th, “as the evidence on which the Government relies is a tissue of wicked fabrication, from the perjured lips of the lowest upon the earth! No one who knows him (Mr. Clay) can for a moment believe him guilty or even capable of crime. I have written to Judge Black and requested him to make effort to have you come to the North. I hope your application to Judge Holt[47] will secure for you this liberty.”

Mr. O’Conor’s letter ran as follows:

“NEW YORK, June 29, 1865.

“_My Dear Madam_: I do not believe that any attempt will be made to
try Mr. Clay or any other of the leading Southern gentlemen on the
charge of complicity in the assassination[48] of Lincoln.

“Such of them as have, through mistaken confidence in the
magnanimity of their enemies, surrendered themselves into custody,
may be obliged to suffer imprisonment, until it shall be determined,
as a matter of policy, whether they ought to be tried for
treason....

“Mr. Jefferson Davis is, of course, the first victim demanded by
those who demand State prosecutions. His will be the test case.... I
have volunteered my professional services in his defense, and
although I have hitherto been refused permission to see him, and his
letter in reply to my offer has been intercepted and returned to him
as an improper communication, I am persuaded that, if a trial shall
take place, I will be one of his defenders. In performing this duty,
you may fairly consider me as in compliance with your request,
defending your husband.... I sympathise most sincerely with yourself
and your husband in this cruel ordeal, and shall be most happy if my
efforts shall have any influence in mitigating its severity or in
shortening its duration.

“I am, my dear Madam, with great respect and esteem,

“Yours truly,
“CHARLES O’CONOR.”

This epistle, coming from so wise a man, was calculated to calm us; one from Mr. Haldeman inspired us equally to courage.

“HARRISBURG, July 24, 1865.

“MRS. C. C. CLAY.

“_My Dear Madam_: Your exceedingly affecting letter did not reach me
until long after it was written.... So soon as it was practicable, I
visited Honourable Thaddeus Stevens at his home in Lancaster City. I
selected Mr. Stevens more particularly on account of his
independence of character, his courage, and his position of
intellectual and official leadership in the lower house of Congress,
and in his party. It is not necessary for me to tell you, Madam,
that, knowing your husband, I never had a suspicion of his
complicity in the assassination of Mr. Lincoln, but you will be
gratified to learn that Mr. Stevens scorned the idea of either his
guilt or that of any of the prominent sojourners in Canada.[49]

“Mr. Stevens holds, that as the belligerent character of the
Southern States was recognised by the United States, neither Mr.
Davis nor Mr. Clay can be tried for treason.... That, if tried, Mr.
Clay should be tried in Alabama. You will perceive, then, my dear
Madam, that connected with the proposed trial of your husband, there
are profound questions of statesmanship and party. On this account,
Mr. S. would not like to have his name prematurely mentioned. He is
using his great political influence in the direction indicated, and
it is, of course, much greater when he is not known as the counsel
of Mr. Clay.... I promised to see Mr. Stevens so soon as the form
and place of trial are announced.... Mr. Stevens will be a tower of
strength, and command attention and respect from President,
Secretary and Congress....

“Hoping, Madam, that when I address you again, it will be under
happier auspices, I am,

“R. J. HALDEMAN.”

Nor were these all. Ex-Attorney-General Black wrote me early in July these brief but kind words of sympathy:

“I hasten to assure you that I will do all that in me lies to secure justice in Mr. Clay’s case. I have written to the President, Secretary of War, and Mr. Davis. You may safely rely upon me to the extent of my ability to do you good!”

Letters as positive and cordial came also from Messrs. George Shea and J. M. Carlisle. I had written meanwhile to Mr. Clay in prison, hoping thereby to give him courage; to the Secretary of War, beseeching for kindness to his self-surrendered and delicate prisoner; to General Miles, begging him to keep his promise and tell me of Mr. Clay’s condition. It was three months ere I heard from my husband. The Secretary of War ignored my letter, and three weeks passed ere the general in command at Fortress Monroe made reply. His letter was judicially kind. It saved me, at least, from apprehension lest Mr. Clay, too, should be submitted to the horrible indignity which had been put upon Mr. Davis, the news of which was still agitating the country. General Miles’s letter was as follows:

“HEADQUARTERS MILITARY DISTRICT OF FORT MONROE.
FORT MONROE, Virginia, June 20, 1865.

“_Dear Madam_: Your letter of the 8th inst.[50] is at hand. In
answer, I am happy to say to you, your husband is well in health and
as comfortable as it is possible to make him under my orders. He has
not at any time been in irons. His fare is good. (I think Mr.
Davis’s health better than when he left the _Clyde_.) He has pipe
and tobacco. The officers in charge are changed every day. Your
husband was pleased to hear you were well. Wished me to say that he
was well and comfortable and under the circumstances quite cheerful.
Has every confidence that he will be able to vindicate himself of
the charge. He sends much love, and hopes you will not make
your[self] uneasy or worry on his account, as his only concern is
about you. Your letter was sent to Judge Holt.

“Your husband has not been allowed any books except his Bible and
prayer-book, although I have requested provision to allow him one
other, but have received no answer as yet. You may be assured that
while your husband is within the limits of my command he will not
suffer. Hoping this will find you well, I remain

“Very respectfully,
“NELSON A. MILES,
“Brevet Major-General United States Volunteers.”

On the face of it this communication was kind. But, to offset its statements as to my husband’s comfort, rumours quite the reverse reached us from many reliable sources. How well these were founded, how grievously the life in prison told upon my husband’s spirit, may be adjudged from the following excerpts from a running letter from Mr. Clay which reached me late in the autumn. It was designed for my eyes alone, in the event of some sudden termination of his present awful experiences. In part it was a solemn charge and farewell to me, and this portion was guarded; for Mr. Clay had supposed he must commit the letter, at last, to the care of General Miles for transmittance to me. In part, it is evident hope was reviving him; by this time permission had been given to him to write to me through the War Department; also, he perceived the way opening for a private delivery of the letter, and therefore, at the last, he spoke more unreservedly.

“CASEMATE NO. 4, FORTRESS MONROE, VIRGINIA.
“FRIDAY, AUGUST 11, 1865.

“_My Dearly Beloved Wife_: After repeated requests, I am permitted
to address you this communication, which is only to be delivered to
you by General Miles in case of my death before we meet on earth....
This letter is written in contemplation of death; for, although
trusting through God’s goodness and mercy to see you again on this
earth, yet, as my health is much impaired and I am greatly reduced
in flesh and strength, and never allowed a night’s unbroken rest, I
feel I am in greater peril of my life than is usual. Under the
solemn reflection that I may not see you again before I am called
hence to meet my Judge, I shall try to write nothing that I would
erase at that day when I must give an account of the deeds done in
the flesh. God bears me witness that I am unconscious of having
committed any crime against the United States or any of them, or any
citizen thereof, and that I feel and believe that I have done my
duty as a servant of the State of Alabama, to whom alone I owed
allegiance, both before and since she seceded from the Federal
Union. I have not changed my opinion as to the sovereignty of the
States and the right of a State to secede; and I am more confirmed
by my reflections and our bitter experience that the Northern people
were so hostile to the rights, interests and institutions of the
Southern States, that it was just and proper for these to seek peace
and security in a separate government. I think the utter subversion
of our political and social systems and sudden enfranchisement of
four million slaves a great crime, and one of the most terrible
calamities that ever befell any people; that generations yet unborn
will feel it in sorrow and suffering; and that nothing but intense
hatred and vindictive rage could have so blinded the North to its
own interests and [to] those of humanity, as to induce the
consummation of this act of wickedness and folly. I look for nothing
but evil to both blacks and whites in the South from this sudden and
violent change in their relations; intestine feuds and tumults;
torpid indolence and stealthy rapacity on the part of the blacks;
jealousy, distrust and oppression of them on the part of the whites;
mutual outrage and injury, disquiet, apprehensions, alarms, murders,
robberies, house-burnings, and other crimes; the blighting of hearts
and homes and the destruction of industry, arts, literature, wealth,
comfort and happiness. No people, save the Jews, have ever been more
oppressed and afflicted than those of the South, [and] especially
the blacks, will be, in my opinion. _Their professed deliverers will
prove the real destroyers of the negroes in the end._

“Had I foreseen this, I should doubtless have been in favour of
enduring lesser evils and wrongs from the North and postponing this
calamity, for it would have come sooner or later, but, perhaps, not
in our day. I never doubted ... that our interest would be best
served by preserving the old Union, under which I might have enjoyed
wealth and honour all my life. I felt that I was acting against my
own interest in favouring Secession, but thought it my duty to my
State and the South. Hence, I have nothing to reproach myself for as
to my course in that respect. I only regret that we did not defer
the evil day or prepare longer, better maintaining our independence.
I still think we might and would have maintained it, with more
wisdom in council and in the field, and with more virtue among our
people. I feel it due to my character, to my family and friends, to
say this much on public affairs....

“Now in regard to your own course and that of my kindred, I would
advise you, if able, to remove from the South; but, impoverished as
you all are, or soon will be, it is improbable that you can do so.
Hence, you had best make your home in some city or large town, where
the white population prevails. I think populous negro districts will
be unsafe. You will be obliged to cast off our former slaves, if
they should desire to live with you, for you have no means of
supporting or of employing them.... Do what you can for the comfort
of my parents.... Try to exercise charity to all mankind, forgiving
injuries, cherishing hatred to none, and doing good even to
enemies.... This is true wisdom, even if there was no life beyond
the grave, because the best way of securing peace of mind and of
promoting mere worldly interests. _But when I remember that Christ
commands it and enforced it by His example, and promised, ‘if you
keep my commandments, you shall abide in my love,’ the inestimable
great reward should stimulate us to the performance of the duty...._
Nothing has convinced me of the divinity of Christ so much as His
superhuman morality and virtue....

“SATURDAY, August 12, 1865.

“... I hope and sometimes think that my confinement here is to end
in good to me. I have tried and am still trying to turn it to my
incalculable profit. I have searched my own heart, and reviewed my
life more earnestly, prayerfully, and anxiously than in all my days
before coming in here. I have read The Book through twice; much of
it more than twice....

“You will see from my Bible and prayer-books that I have been
assiduous and earnest in their study. I confess that this has been
from necessity rather than choice. I have never been allowed to see
any word in print or manuscript outside of them, until 3d inst.,
when a copy of the New York _Herald_ was brought me, and I was
informed that I was [to be] allowed to see such newspapers as
General Miles would daily send me.

“September 10, 1865.

“I dropped my pen in the delusive hope that I was to be allowed to
see you soon, or at all events to correspond freely with you, and
that in the meantime I would be allowed a reasonable hope of living,
by granting me opportunity to sleep. For I must now tell you what I
have heretofore thought I would conceal till my liberation or death,
_that I have endured the most ingenious and refined torture ever
since I came into this living tomb; for, although above the natural
face of the earth, it is covered with about ten feet of earth, and
is always more or less damp like a tomb. With a bright light in my
room and the adjoining room, united to it by two doorways, closed by
iron gates, which cover about half the space or width of the
partition, and with two soldiers in this room, and two and a
lieutenant in the adjoining, until about 30th June; with the opening
and shutting of those heavy iron doors or gates, the soldiers being
relieved every two hours; with the tramp of these heavy, armed men,
walking their beats, the rattling of their arms, and still more the
trailing sabre of the lieutenant, the officer of the guard, whose
duty is to look at me every fifteen minutes, you may be sure that my
sleep has been often disturbed and broken. In truth, I have
experienced one of the tortures of the Spanish Inquisition in this
frequent, periodical and irregular disturbance of my sleep._ During
the one hundred and twelve days of my imprisonment here I have never
enjoyed one night’s unbroken sleep; I have been roused every two
hours, if asleep, by the tread of soldiers, the clank of arms and
the voices of officers.... I have never known the feeling of
refreshment from sleep on arising any morning of my imprisonment.
Besides, I have never been allowed retirement from sight, actual or
potential, of my guards; having to bathe and do all the acts of
nature in view of the guard, if they chose to look at me. I have
never been allowed an interview with any one alone, not even with a
minister of God, but have always been confronted with two or more
witnesses, whenever minister or physician come to see me. I have
never been allowed any clothes save those in present use.... Where
my other clothes are I do not know, as several of those who were
represented as masters of my wardrobe denied the trust. I have found
out that some things I valued have been stolen, together with all
the little money I kept. I think it probable that you will never see
half of the contents of my valise and despatch bag. The inclosed
letters[51] present but a glimpse of my tortures, for I knew that
the grand inquisitors, the President and Cabinet, knew all that I
could tell and even more; and, besides, my debility of body and of
mind was such that I had not power to coin my thoughts into
words.... And to be frank, I was too proud to confess to them all my
sufferings, and also apprehended that they would rather rejoice over
and aggravate than relent and alleviate them. I now feel ashamed
that I have complained to them instead of enduring unto death. My
love for you, my parents and brothers, prevailed over my self-love,
and extracted from me those humiliating letters. I have been
reluctant to humble myself to men whom I regarded as criminals far
more than myself, touching all the woes and wrongs, the destruction
and desolation of the South.

“If you ever get my [Jay’s] prayer-book, you will see scratched with
a pencil, borrowed for the occasion, such items in my monotonous
prison life as I felt worth recording.

“October 16th.

“On the 19th of August I wrote my second letter to the Secretary of
War, and was then in hopes of removal of the guard from the
adjoining room in a day or two. Besides, I was so enfeebled and my
nerves so shattered by loss of sleep that I could scarcely write.
Hence I quit this painful labour of love. The guard was not removed
till the 12th of September, and then because my condition, from loss
of sleep, was become really very critical. Since then I have
improved very much in health and have slept as well as I ever did.
But I have been deluded with the hope of my enlargement on parole,
and thought I would not dwell on so painful a theme. I now learn
that I am to be moved to-day to Carroll Hall, where Mr. D—— is....
Hence I avail myself of a chance to send you these sheets lest they
should never reach you if I die in prison. I must impress on you the
propriety of _concealing this communication while I live and never
alluding to it_, for, if found out, I should suffer for it.... I
dare say I should be turned out on parole but for the charge against
me of concerting Lincoln’s murder. They are loth to confess the
charge to be false, which they would do by releasing me. I am made
to suffer to save them from the reproach of injustice. I should be
willing to brave them out by stubborn endurance and refusal of
anything but legal justice. I should not fear that. But I am never
to be tried for murder, nor, I think, for treason. They know there
is no pretext for charging me with murder, and they doubt their
ability to convict me of treason before a jury of Southern men, and
such only could legally try me....

“Now excuse any incoherence or want of method and the bad writing,
as it is all done under great disadvantages, which I may explain
hereafter. You can write to me under cover to Captain R. W. Bickley,
Third Pennsylvania Artillery, Fortress Monroe, Virginia. He will be
here till 10th of November, and then go out of service. After that
I’ll find some one else through whom you can write to me. He is from
Philadelphia. He, Captain J. B. Tetlow, Philadelphia, Captain
McEwan, Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, and Dr. John J. Craven[52] of this
place, have been very kind to me; also Lieutenant Lemuel Shipman,
Sunbury, Pennsylvania. The last made me a wooden knife to eat with
during the time I was denied knife and fork and spoon, which was
till thirtieth of June.

“They would, too, shake hands (which was forbidden) and treat me as
an equal when they could do so unobserved. Take care you don’t
allude to this letter in yours through War Department.... —— —— _has
no sensibility or refinement, and hence Mr. Davis and I have
suffered more than we should have done. Mr. Davis was ironed without
cause, and only grew violent when they offered to iron him. I_ _know
this from one who was present. Facts are, General M—— was authorised
to iron us if necessary for safety, and deemed it necessary with Mr.
D——, or mistook the authority as an order to do it. But Mr. Davis is
petulant, irascible, and offensive in manner to officers, as they
tell me, though they say he is able, learned, high-toned, and
imposing in manner._”

Before this heartrending letter reached me, however, another, couched purposely in terms more guarded (as befitted matter which must run the gauntlet of Secretary Stanton’s, the Attorney-General’s and General Miles’s scrutiny), had reached me. In my endeavours to comfort our enfeebled parents, I had already discussed with them the advisability of making my way to Washington, and in the first letter from me that reached my husband’s hands I spoke of my hope of doing so. Unknown to me, Mr. Clay, so early as June 30th, had written an urgent appeal to Secretary Stanton that I might be allowed to see or communicate with him. To this he had received no reply. Upon learning, therefore, of my intention through my letter, his first impulse was to dissuade me.

“If you come North,” he wrote, on August 21st, “you must come with a brave heart, my dear ’Ginie ... prepared to hear much to wound you, and to meet with coldness and incivility where you once received kindness and courtesy. Some will offend you with malice, some unwittingly and from mere habit, and some even through a sense of duty. Many religionists have, doubtless, found pleasure and felt they were doing God service in persecuting heretics. If rudely repulsed, remember, in charity, that such is human nature. The Jewish priests drove off the lepers with stones....”