Belle Boyd, In Camp and Prison, Vol. II - Chapters X-XIII



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CHAPTER X.
Forrest Hall - A Lesson on Prison Luxury - The Torture - Close Packing - 
The "Neutral Ground" - A good-natured Sentry - An Aristocrat - "The 
Gouger" - A tough Contest - Homage to the Victor - An Honour declined - 
The Carroll Prison - Defacing the Walls - Piety Hall - Unpleasant 
Tortures - "The Colonel."

   FORREST Hall, or, as it is somewhat significantly designated by the 
fellows who board here at the Government's expense, "The last Ditch," was 
without exception the most fearful realization of a prison that it 

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was my misfortune ever to have anything to do with: not that I would have 
you for one moment suppose that I am familiar with a convict's residence; 
but I have mentioned it merely from the fact that, until I was thus 
thoroughly convinced to the contrary, I had always entertained the belief 
that, in this age of improvements and luxury, prisons had been converted 
by science into luxuriously improvised hotels - watering- places where 
roughs and rogues retire for a while to recruit their wasting energies.

   And in this respect I have always entertained the belief that in 
America "they know how to manage these things better than in Europe, you 
know;" but this foretaste of St. Giles and Billingsgate dispelled, and 
effectively too, any highly coloured and very romantic ideas that I had 
conceived of prison luxury; and the rose-colour tinting 

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with which I had in fancy painted such residences gave way to a most 
sombre picture edged with black, that nearly crazed me as I walked gravely 
backwards and forwards, picking my way daintily through dirty groups of 
sleeping men or puddles of tobacco-juice with which the floor of this 
place was saturated.

   Situated in Georgetown, on the suburbs of the city of Washington, 
Forrest Hall was, before the commencement of this devilish struggle, used 
as a place of public entertainment, where balls and suppers were held or 
given. A large square-shaped room, it had nothing of beauty to recommend 
it even then; much less at the present day, when its walls are defaced 
with unseemly pictures, vulgar writings, or punctured plaster; and even in 
its halcyon days it was such a room that one felt, however warm 

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one may have been; chilled upon entering.

   Four immense windows, reaching from the top almost to the bottom, bound 
with iron, looked forth upon the street; but none of us ever presumed to 
gaze from them, for orders were given to shoot dead the audacious wretch 
who should thus defy the laws. Four others looked out upon what was known 
as the "Promenade," a small enclosure where we were allowed to walk for 
half an hour daily. One feature of this "yard," as it was also called, was 
the hose; an instrument of torture which was applied to "suspects," who 
were supposed to be deserters from the United States army. Whether it was 
so or not it was almost impossible to say. The manner of torturing the 
unfortunate man was after the most approved method of Yankee invention 

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and ingenuity. You may doubtless somewhere have read of the prisoner who 
was tortured by being fastened in an immovable position beneath a faucet, 
that permitted to escape, every second, one drop of water, which fell 
always in one spot upon the forehead, producing a most fearful torture, 
resulting eventually in insanity. Well, although it was not exactly the 
same thing, nevertheless it approached it very nearly. For in this 
instance the victim was made to stand bound securely to a post, whilst a 
steady stream of water, whose force was thirty pounds to an inch square, 
was played upon the small of the back.

   It was often the case that the victim, unable to endure the torture, 
would, guilty or not, give in; and the consequence was, that the 
authorities, having witnessed the acknowledgment of his crime, would 
remand 

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him in an exhausted state back to the Hall, to be led out to execution, or 
conducted to the Penitentiary, to which he would be sentenced for a 
lifetime.

   Again, some, more obdurate and stubborn, would remain firm and 
unyielding, however fearful the torture, until fainting would ensue, or 
the medical attendant, who waited in person and watched closely the 
victim's wrist, would say, "Enough"; when he would be carried back to the 
room, only to be brought forth to endure the same torture when he had 
sufficiently requited his energies to be able to appear once more.

   But to revert once more to Forrest Hall. In a space not more than 
seventy-five feet square were crowded together over five hundred dirty, 
ragged, and filthy wretches, of all conditions and colour, who had 

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been immured here for many months with the consoling remark, "Your case 
will be attended to." The dirt that filled the floor was something awful 
to reflect upon, and here they were obliged to live - here sleep. A space 
large enough for the promenade of the guards, who were relieved at the end 
of every four hours, was reserved for them; and whoever the poor wretch 
was that dared to invade the neutral ground - for such it was called by 
the residents - he was shot like a dog for his daring; murdered, coolly 
and deliberately. Right over the entrance to this room was a place called 
"The Lodge." Here a corporal and three or four sentries are placed, with 
the same humane orders to execute relative to the shedding of human blood. 
The place literally swarmed with vermin, and the 

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air is corrupt, and vile with odours that are, at least, to be moderate in 
one's language, disgusting and nauseating in the extreme.

   It was early on a Sunday morning that I entered this sink, after having 
undergone a rigid examination of my person at the hands of the officers 
who were quartered at the Hall.

   This done, I was handed over to a sergeant, and conducted by him to the 
room that I have endeavoured to describe to you above. It was so late that 
(fortunately for me) only some nine or ten out of the whole number that 
lay huddled together on the floor were awake. One or two stared at me for 
a short time, but went on again with their play at cards.

   A sentry was once more my friend in this place. He pitied me. I was 
glad to 

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have any one's pity, even, for I felt almost like the desperate suicide at 
times, and the future of my life was enveloped in gloom, so dark and 
obscure that it was in vain that I attempted to penetrate it.

   Having passed the spot where I was standing, wrapped up in my own 
thoughts, he stopped suddenly, and said, "You surely are not a deserter, 
sir?"

   "You have surmised correctly," I replied.

   "What are you doing here, then?" he added, with some surprise.

   "That is just what I should like to know myself; and, if you will 
inform me, I shall thank you for the information."

   "An' I suppose you are one of those fellows we call political 
prisoners; and if you are, by jove! there's plenty more of your same 
stripe that would like to have 

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the same information you're after wanting;" and he resumed his beat.

   In a short time he came to me, and said, "Why don't you sleep?"

   "Sleep!" I said, in astonishment. He grinned at the manner in which I 
spoke the word sleep, and said - 

   "By --! there'd only be a clean-picked skeleton of you in the morning."

   "Then I will try to fancy myself on the quarter-deck for four hours;" 
and I commenced to promenade up and down with the sentry, and it was not 
until late the next morning that I gave up, and was forced to sit down; 
but I first took my handkerchief and brushed away the dirt on the floor as 
well as I could before I did so.

   As the morning wore on apace, the rascals, who by this time were 
thoroughly 

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awake, came and stared at me, or asked me questions of myself, business, 
&c. To the former I affected a perfect indifference, but to the latter I 
kept my tongue, which brought down innumerable left-handed blessings from 
these fellows, who saw in me, as they did not abstain from informing their 
comrades, "a -- aristocrat."

   Taking-my silence for fear, they became bolder. One of them, a wall-
eyed, villainous scoundrel, knocked my hat off. Picking it up, I replaced 
it on my head without apparently noticing the offender. Growing bolder, 
the cries of "Toss him! toss the swell cove! mash him! jam him!" were 
raised on all sides. A blanket was getting stretched for my special 
benefit, and I determined to act instantaneously. Near the stove was a 
goodly sized stick 

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of wood, that was used for supporting the door when opened. I determined 
to get possession of it; so I walked up quietly, and, gaining possession 
of the instrument that was soon to decide my fate, I retreated to a 
corner, and waited for them.

   It was not long. A party advanced, and then halted, when the wall-eyed 
man, who was known as "the Gouger" - a name that he had won from his 
prowess in tearing the eyes from out the sockets of others - came as near 
as was prudently safe, for I swung the stick defiantly as he advanced, and 
said - 

   "Now, young 'un, if yer don't give in, I'll bite yer nose off. Come, 
now, are yer goin' to?"

   To his tender and merciful intentions as regarded my nose I paid no 
attention.

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   "Oh, yer ain't agoin' to, then, are yer? Well, I'll have a fresh-meat 
breakfast, by --! this morning, at any rate. Come on, bullies."

   I only remember one thing until the whole affair was over; and this is 
the picture: "the Gouger" and his second advancing as I swung my trusty 
weapon in a circle about me, the pointed edge of the stick cutting into 
the bridge of "the Gouger's" nose, and effectually closing an eye for him, 
and the remaining force of the blow being received by his second on the 
temple, who fell like a lump of lead by his leader. Then it was that I 
sprang forward, slashing right and left as I went; but there was no 
necessity to do murder, for they gave way before me; and the sentry, who 
had been watching the battle, received me with the remark, 

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as I gained his side, panting from the exertion, "By --! if I hadn't have 
liked you, I'd have shot you for mutiny; but you did that well: they won't 
trouble you any more, I'll bet."

   Nor did they. On the contrary, a "select committee," to my great 
surprise, waited upon me about 10 a.m., and their spokesman informed me 
that by a unanimous vote I had been chosen their president, and, if I 
would accept the leadership of "the Owls," it was at my command.

   To their astonishment, I refused them; but, not wishing to make them my 
enemies, for I had no idea how long I was to remain here, I did so as 
politely as possible.

   Fortunately for me, in the afternoon I was sent for; and, under guard, 
I was 

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conveyed to the Provost-Marshal's office, in Washington City. Here I was 
kept for over an hour, in a place that was partitioned off for rebels, a 
ferocious- looking aspirant for military honours guarding me the while. 
Several of the clerks, who had ascertained from their superior who I was, 
attempted to converse with me, but in this they failed most decidedly.

   Shortly after this I was taken, under the surveillance of Captain -- 
and four of his satellites, to the Old Capitol. On my way to that place I 
was kindly permitted to partake of some food - the first that I had eaten 
for over twenty-four hours at "Hanmacks," and to the proprietor of that 
place I was indebted for much attention.

   I then resumed my journey once more, 

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after running "a muck," so to speak, of the curious loungers, for the 
churches were fast pouring forth their inmates upon the street, and the 
terrific fire of conversation from the Captain, which was by far the worst 
torture I had to endure.

   On my arrival at the Old Capitol I was welcomed by a one-armed 
lieutenant, who had "seen servin'," but when he did not say, and whom I 
ascertained to belong to that body of men known as the "invalid corps." I 
was ordered to sit down, and, after a running fire of questions, I was 
sent off to the Carroll Prison, under the guard of two soldiers.

   I was not long in reaching it, for the political bastile is situated 
not far from its prototype, the Old Capitol. I was received by the under-
superintendent, who, having registered my name, age, occupation, 

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height, business, ancestry, &c., was good enough to relieve me of some 
money - not all, for I had been deprived of most by "the gallant knights 
of the greenwood," through whose merciless fingers I did not pass 
unscathed, and who certainly have a taking way about them. A diminutive 
penknife which was also "captured," although I begged to retain it as a 
favour, was refused on the plea that I might injure myself.

   This over, I was conducted to Room No. 35, to keep company with a spy 
and a blockade- runner. On its walls, rudely executed with a piece of 
charred wood, I wrote our names, one day, and drew above them the English 
and Confederate flags, which, coming under notice of the sentinel outside, 
drew down upon my devoted head a whole mouthful of curses, loud and deep. 
Some 

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wag, a previous inmate of this room, had written, a la Jack Sheppard, over 
the door the following very curious misnomer: "Piety Hall!" "Piety Hall" 
is certainly a most deplorable spot. Four bunks, filled with bedding of a 
most suspicious character, occupy one-third of the space. I very foolishly 
slept in one of these "beds," as they are designated here, but I can 
assure you that I regretted it exceedingly long before morning.

   It was almost an utter impossibility to tell the time correctly in this 
place, for the window that opened on a passage-way without is so 
completely enclosed with the cell that has evidently been added to the 
building since the commencement of the war, and which is reserved 
exclusively for "close confinement," that it is not until a very late hour 
in the forenoon that daylight 

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favours us with its presence at all. A stove in the centre of the room is 
used by us to cook whatever we choose to buy from the cutler, Mr. Donelly, 
who has had the monopoly of this prison since the beginning of the 
rebellion.

   The morning after my arrival at the Carroll, in company with the 
blockade-runner, I descended into the yard, when, after refreshing myself 
with a hearty wash at the pump, I entered the salle à manger for my 
breakfast. I could eat nothing. The coffee is a mixture of - but I will 
not attempt to describe it - whilst the "hard tack," as the old inmates 
call it, is the flintiest kind of flour that was ever baked and honoured 
with the appellation of biscuit. So I walked out into the yard, and 
strolled listlessly about, wondering, as prisoners will, when I should be 
released.

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   About 11 a.m. I again went up to my room, and received from the 
sentinel a reprimand for remaining below in the yard, accompanied with the 
remark that "if I didn't mind my eye, I'd have old Wood after me."

   One of my room-mates said, "What was that old fool saying?"

   I repeated the above remark to him, when they both laughed derisively 
and said, "Don't you believe all they tell you: if you do, you will have a 
surfeit of gasconade and a troublesome indigestion."

   The second day after my arrival the "Colonel" entered the room and 
said, "Ho, ho, here we are! So you're the husband of the famous Belle 
Boyd, are you? Well, we haven't got her, but we've got her husband, that's 
next to it;" and before I had time to reply he was out of the room; 

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and this was the way that I first made the acquaintance of William P. 
Wood, the superintendent of the Old Capitol and Carroll.



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CHAPTER XI.
Journal continued - Letter to Mr. Stanton - Visit from Judge Turner - Room 
25 - An Introduction in due form - Pleasant Society - A Dinner at last - 
Good Advice - A clandestine Communication - False Alarm - "That reminds me 
of a good Story" A Massachusetts Officer in Trouble - The "Smasher's" 
Sentence - An imprisoned Wife and Child - Blockade-running.

   5th December. - Having procured some paper from the sutler, I wrote to 
Mr. Stanton with a simple statement of my case.

   This document I forwarded to judge 

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Turner, who attends to all the cases of the prisoners held here. That 
gentleman, after the expiration of three days, sent for me; and having 
asked me, in the presence of witnesses, if I had written it, to which I 
answered in the affirmative, then swore me as to the truthfulness of it, 
and dismissed me from his awful presence, with the assurance that he would 
attend to it in the proper course of time.

   I shall not readily forget my introduction to the inmates of Rooms 25 
and 26, to which I was now transferred. I was introduced into my new 
quarters by Captain Mark T. "Gentlemen," he said, "allow me to introduce 
to this select and distinguished company, Lieutenant S. Wilde Hardinge, 
formerly of the United States navy, now of England, but just at present 
boarding with the freemen of the 

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city at the Old Carroll Prison." (A momentary pause.) "Allow me, sir - 
Captain McD., of Pennsylvania, a counterfeiter, sir; brought here not for 
an attempt to counterfeit himself, but for the crime of counterfeiting 
United States green-backs, and buying Southern horses with them." "Mr. 
Parker, sir" (as I was somewhat unceremoniously pushed round in front of 
him), "a blacksmith, not of anvils, but of the city of Brotherly Love, a 
forger by trade. He was brought up at the forge; and how could such an apt 
scholar end otherwise than in forging the United States Government?" "Ah, 
H." (familiarly), "two distinguished 'colonels' from New York, charged 
with ballot-box stuffing, and having the presumption to vote for 
McClellan; a bad case, sir, I assure you, as they [the authorities] keep 

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putting their trial off for further evidence, which they cannot procure. 
However, they have an idea that they are sulky, and so they intend to keep 
them here. Ah, sir, this is a glorious country; nothing like it; in fact, 
a country whose institutions one ought to esteem, for they hang you first, 
and try you afterwards."

   Captain T. having finished his somewhat lengthy harangue, I ventured to 
remark, "And what, sir, may I ask, is your crime?" "Ah! mine," said he, 
winking complacently, "is nothing! but, as out of nothing came something, 
I presume they'll make it out of my case."

   Here the introduction suddenly ceased; for, dinner being announced, 
every one rushed for a seat, and devoured, somewhat ravenously, it must be 
confessed, everything 

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excepting what was not eatable, upon the table; an example which I was not 
slow to imitate, for it had been over two weeks since I had the good 
fortune to get a mouthful of anything really eatable.

   December 7th. - I woke up very early this morning, and, having dressed 
myself, strolled about the yard below for a while in conversation with two 
or three others incarcerated here - for nothing; at least, that is the 
invariable answer.

   By way of an explanation of this, one of them said to me, "It don't do, 
Mr. H., to know too much in a place like this. You are a new comer: let me 
advise you to ask no questions, and answer fewer. I don't mean to say 
there are spies here, but I wouldn't trust my own father in here;" and, 
having finished his sentence, he left me.

   I can see the ladies in the different 

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rooms in that portion of the building devoted to them, gazing down, 
through their iron bars, into the yard, upon the prisoners, who are 
allowed to walk about here at stated intervals. I accomplished the prison 
feat of exchanging notes with a "close-confined" prisoner, an exploit 
which was executed when the Hessian sentry had his back turned upon us, 
and which would have been punished with bread and water in the guard-house 
for forty-eight hours, had it been discovered.

   It is quite worthy of notice that one seems to take an indescribable 
pleasure in eluding the vigilance of the sentries at all times, not so 
much for any particular reason, but merely for the purpose of passing away 
the time, and proving that such a thing can be done in spite of the "Rules 
and Regulations."

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   Captain Marsh left Room 26 to-day. He had been prisoner here for some 
time, but eventually was released without a trial or any satisfaction 
being accorded to him. His arrest was very ingeniously managed, Secretary 
Stanton ordering him to report for examination for Colonel at Washington. 
Captain M. was "at the front," i.e., before Richmond, when he received 
this mandate; but judge of his surprise when, upon his arrival, instead of 
being promoted, he was ordered to the Carroll, and detained there.

   December 9th. - This evening, as we were seated conversing or playing 
cards, for want of some better occupation, we were somewhat startled by 
the cry of "Officer of the keys! corporal of the guard! Post No. 7!" and 
almost simultaneously with it came the report of a musket, that sent whist-
players and every one else to 

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their feet. Officers and men rushed to their different stations, and the 
general belief, for the moment, was that some one had been shot in 
attempting to escape. Such, however, was not the case; it proving to be 
only the accidental discharge of a fire-arm, through the carelessness of a 
sentinel who had just come off post, and was placing his piece in the 
rack, when it fell, the jar causing it to go off. The ball passed upwards 
through the floor, going through a bed in 26, but fortunately without 
wounding its inmate. This is not the first instance of this kind that has 
occurred.

   Said Colonel Wood, who at that time was playing Inspector of the rooms, 
"That reminds me of a good story." The good story was as follows: -

   "There was a fellow, an officer in the 

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Confederate States Army, who received some money from a lady who was held 
in my residence for stubborn people. With this he bribed the sentinel who 
was in the yard beneath to let him attempt an escape. The sentinel agreed; 
but I got wind of the affair an hour before it took place; and, walking up 
to the sentinel, I said, 'Now, you -- --, I've got you in my power; and, 
if you don t shoot that -- -- rebel, I'll have you hung." So when Mr. 
Rebel gets out of the window Mr. Sentinel blazes away at him, and down he 
drops kerflummuxed."

   "What became of him?" asked one of his audience.

   "Why, -- him, he died in the hospital several days afterwards."

   December 11th. - A captain in the Massachusetts 8th was sent into 26 to-
day. 

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He had been arrested and imprisoned in the Baltimore Gaol for six weeks. 
In about an hour after his appearance amongst us he was ordered out, and 
put into close confinement.

   Captain McD., an incarcerated prisoner in 26, received the news of his 
sentence of court-martial through the "Star" of this evening. He was 
convicted of passing counterfeit money, and was sentenced to ten years' 
imprisonment in the Clinton Prison, New Jersey, has been cashiered the 
service, and disqualified from holding any office of honour, trust, and 
profit under the United States Government, and to pay a fine of $5000: 
this latter item, fortunately for him, is in "green-backs."

   He is a stout-built, thick-set, brawny- looking man with black eyes and 
hair, and 

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has lost a finger in the service of the Union. I watched his countenance 
closely as his eyes met the paragraph containing his sentence. Every one 
had seen it, but none cared to break the intelligence. He gave a sudden 
spasmodic start, and sat for as much as ten minutes gazing at it. How he 
must have felt inwardly at that time none can know but himself. It made 
one feel cold and nervous to see him sit there so quietly. Ten years! a 
lifetime for him. His hopes for the future were blighted. Farewell for him 
to all life's charms: he is dead henceforth and for ever to the world. I 
would not have been in his place for thousands.

   There he sat, without moving, and Room 26 was very quiet, for the 
occupants of it were looking at him. He evidently and suddenly became 
aware of this fact, and, 

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looking up from the fatal "Star," he said, "I'm in for it. They've done 
for me. Well, ten years imprisonment! Humph!" (and he laughed), "I'm glad 
of that: I'll get out sooner." Then he got up and walked out of the room, 
and we all of us somehow felt relieved when he had gone.

   December 15th. - Glancing up at the windows of Room 40, I saw this 
afternoon, whilst walking up and down the yard, a poor little child - a 
girl - about four years old, and standing close beside her was her mother. 
She clasped the iron bars of the window with childish glee, and did not 
seem to be aware that the cold, repelling touch of the iron that encircled 
her present abode was that of prison bars, that held her captive from the 
outer world. Her merry little laugh was truly painful to listen to.

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   "Aunt Lizzie" was in the cutler's at this time, so I asked her who it 
was.

   "Who dat lady, massa? Dat's Mrs. K."

   "What is her crime?" I asked.

   "Oh, her husband was drafted, and she connived at his escape out ob de 
country, so they arrested her; an' now she's drefful feared that he'll guv 
hisself up in her place."

   December 17th. - The ladies in Room 42 sent me a note, smuggled by --, 
in which they thanked me for presents, at different times, of wine and 
delicacies for the table, that I had procured; for I have followed the 
business of blockade- runner very successfully since I have been in here: 
no matter if I have ill-luck for an attendant outside in that dashing and 
very exciting business.

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   December 20th. - I cannot imagine why I can hear no news of you. Mr. 
Wood says, "You are very foolish, Mr. H., to fret: everything is fair in 
love and war;" so I am forced to construe out of the latter portion of his 
sentence that others are employed in reading my letters. What a jolly 
thing military surveillance is!



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CHAPTER XII.
Introduced to the Ladies' Ward - Colonel Wood and his "Reminiscence-
book" - Interview with Judge Turner - Sherman's Officers in Georgia - A 
hideous Outrage - Christmas in Prison - Home-sick - A drunken Sentry - 
Another Visit to the Ladies - The Young Girl's Sick Bed - A Rough Prison 
Carol.

   December 21st. - I was introduced to the ladies in 42 to-day, and spent 
a very pleasant half-hour in their society; and so quickly did the time 
slip away, that I was only reminded that the thirty minutes were gone by 
the officer of the keys, who, looking 

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at his watch, said, "Time's up!" Mrs. Colonel M. spoke of you, and said 
"that you were undeniably the pet of the Confederacy, and would always be 
looked upon as its child as long as the Confederacy existed and had a 
name."

   December 23rd. - No signs of my being released yet. Mrs. Colonel M. 
remarked, and in the presence of Mr. Wood, to-day, "I have material enough 
of Bastile life, as exemplified in my treatment here, for a book."

   "Mrs. M.," said Wood, and he laughed, "no one will ever be able to 
write a truthful account of the Capitol and Carroll Prisons. I have a 
reminiscence-book, where I put everything that occurs of note within these 
walls. If published, it would equal any of Reynolds' novels of the Tower 
of London."

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   Then he spoke of Mrs. Horns. "I did that girl an injustice. By --! she 
was no traitor to the South. It was I who got the papers that condemned 
her friends, without her knowledge and consent; and Mrs. G., when she went 
to Richmond, ruined and completely crushed her." Turning to Mrs. Colonel 
M., he added, "You may believe me or not, but Mrs. G. used to write me 
notes, until I fairly got sick of her, and afterwards she came out with a 
vengeance against me. But, as I rather glory in my origin, it didn't hurt 
me."

   December 24th. - My poor mother-in-law, in a letter to me to-day, says, 
"what have I done, a weak, defenseless woman, weighed down with sorrow and 
care, that that they will not permit me to come on to Washington and see 
you?"

   Had an interview with Judge Turner in 

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the afternoon. Judge Turner, loquitur, his back to the fire, hat over his 
eyes (probably from very shame), a cigar in his mouth: - 

   "Good morning, Mr. H."

   "Good afternoon, sir."

   "Your business, Mr. H.?"

   "This, sir: can you inform me when I am to be released?"

   "Oh, one of these days."

   "Are there any charges against me?"

   "None, sir; that is, perhaps there may be."

   "Then why am I held prisoner here?"

   "Because it pleases the Government."

   "Ah! but do you call it justice?"

   Judge Turner (frowning): - "Be very careful what you say, sir. You are 
held here because it pleases Mr. Stanton; besides, your wife won't destroy 
any more of our 

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army than she has done, Mr. H., if you are held as a hostage; and Mr. 
Stanton has an affectionate regard for your future welfare."

   What could I do? I was like the mouse, a prisoner in the cage, and at 
the mercy of the lion.

   "I repeat my question," I said: "is it justice?"

   "Justice or not," said that worthy judge, "we keep you here to make a 
patriot of you."

   Mr. M. told me to-day two stories: one of them was of Sherman's march 
through Georgia. Mrs. M was tied to her chair and flogged, her clothes 
first being stripped to her waist. Leather straps were used for the 
purpose. A negro informed the officer that her husband had buried $20,000 
in gold, and that she was 

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aware of its hiding-place; so, finding that threats could not extort the 
secret, they used force.

   As she stood there writhing in her agony, she appealed to the fellow, 
who was a "Capting," for mercy; but the ruffianly scoundrel's only reply 
was, "D-n you: tell us where the gold is hid, and I'll let you up." But 
this she could not do, and the infuriated wretches continued until she 
fainted, and the brutes then left her.

   The other story was this, and not the less worthy of comment as it came 
from the lips of a lady, both in position, as regarded her standing in 
society, and in wealth and accomplishments. I have no reason to urge you 
not to publish it to the world. Near the Rio Grande a Mrs. -- lived 
quietly and undisturbed, though 

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the civil war raged about her, until a band of these "patriots for the 
restoration of the Union" took possession of the place for a few hours. 
Several of them entered her house in the night-time and ascended to her 
room, where she lay sick with rheumatism and unable to move. Her servant, 
a young quadroon, who was waiting upon her, concealed herself in the bed; 
but she was dragged from her hiding-place, and these less than men, 
rendered furious with drink, and in the presence of the agonized and 
terrified lady, and in spite of her protestations and appeals for mercy, 
committed upon the unhappy girl the worst of outrages.

   Christmas Eve. - About nine p.m. I sat down to a game of cards, and I 
am sorry to say that it lasted far into the morning - Sunday morning, and 
Christmas too; but 

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you must excuse me, for you know that I was a prisoner. I retired to my 
bed about four a.m., and fell asleep almost immediately, waking up with 
the winter sun streaming into my face, unwell and low-spirited.

   In "our room," 25, hangs, suspended from the ceiling, an evergreen 
wreath, with two figures pendant from it, the only thing here, in this 
dismal place, to recall to one's mind Christmas, save that the bells are 
already beginning to ring out merrily. No greetings from those you love 
meet your ears. Some few bid you "Merry Christmas," as you pass them by; 
but the look which accompanies it is low and melancholy, betokening that 
the one who gives the "God's greeting" says so mechanically.

   Egg-nog has already commenced to flow 

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freely in our room. Mr. Donelly's shop is much patronized this morning for 
whiskey and weiss-beer (the latter drink decidedly doctored, and a late 
importation, I should judge), eggs, and other necessaries that he doles 
forth for money, to us. A glorious day, yet every one is down-hearted. I 
chew the bitter cud of reflection as I smoke my cigar.

   Many of my fellow-prisoners have already drowned their sorrows in 
drink. An occasional maudlin carol comes from the barred window of some 
caged bird. As the day wears on apace, so does the state of intoxication 
increase. The sentries are maudlin, the prisoners noisy or sullen as the 
liquor which they have drunk may affect them. Several are insulting. 
Without, drunken men and women reel through the streets. Why should I 
grumble, after 

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all? There is misery and sorrow without; in this world, as well as within. 
I have not smiled to-day, but two or three times my eyes have been filled 
with tears; for I have been thinking of you, Belle, a stranger in a 
strange land, waiting sad and lonely for my return.

   So the day creeps slowly along. The sentries are drunk, and many of the 
prisoners are dozing off, the effects of whiskey, made up of morphene and 
other slow poisons.

   A few moments ago one of the sentries asserted his authority with me.

   Sentry (intoxicated): - "Say! where in the -- are you going to?" 
crossing his gun before me at the same moment.

   "Are you addressing your conversation to me?" I ask.

   "I don't want none of your -- 

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palaver. Get back into that room, or I'll shoot you."

   I could stand this no longer; but I folded my arms, and, looking him 
straight in the eyes, I said, "I am unarmed. Shoot if you dare; but, by 
Heaven! if you miss me, I shall not you."

   The muzzle of his piece dropped, and, as I walk away, three cheers are 
given for me by the prisoners who were witnesses of the affair.

   Several of the inmates of Carroll Prison have been locked up in their 
rooms for being noisy; cheering for Jeff. Davis and the Southern 
Confederacy, and groaning for Sherman and Governor Brown, of Georgia.

   Dinner is announced at last: goose, and turkey, and mince-pies for Room 
26; bean-soup and bread for the other 

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prisoners. The former dinner passed off in silence. Every mouthful one 
takes seems like lead. Nobody laughs or smiles: some few curse and swear.

   The dinner is over. At the latter every one scowls, grumbles, or 
swears, and leaves the room - the salle à manger of the Carroll Prison - 
chewing, by way of dessert, "hard tack."

   I ask permission to see the ladies in 42. Wood is gracious to-day, and 
the request is granted, and for a few brief minutes I feel differently. 
Suddenly, with a bang, the door is flung open. In rushes Wood, utterly 
regardless of the poor sick girl who lies writhing with pain upon her 
bed - the same bed in which you slept, in the same room; and fancy made me 
always picture you as the sufferer, as you suffered here months before - 
and roars out in his 

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loudest tones as he discourses upon Atheism, then off, before you are 
quite sure that you have not made up your mind to knock him down, or show 
him the door.

   As I stood in No. 42 this afternoon, despite myself, the tears sprang 
to my eyes. There, on the bed, lay poor Miss Mollie McDonough, groaning 
and moaning with pain, sick and delirious; for close imprisonment had, 
with its iron grasp, taken hold upon her delicate frame, and, after a 
brief struggle, she had succumbed before it.

   "The doctor says she must be removed," whispers Mrs. Colonel M. to me.

   "Why, then, is it not done?" I rejoin.

   "Because that renegade Virginian refuses to let it be done."

   Poor Mollie! I thought of you, Belle, 

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as I gazed upon her this evening, and the blood rushed to my temples, and 
I clenched my hands in silent wrath.

   Mrs. Colonel M. tells me that Wood rushed into the room this morning, 
and yelled out at the top of his voice, "Hooray, Mollie! I've got your 
father a prisoner." She gave one shriek, and cried out in her agony, "My 
God! what will become of my poor mother now?"

   Pretty scene! pretty language was that, to be used in a sick girl's 
room! Mrs. Colonel M., who had stood by, a silent witness of the scene, 
said to Mr. Wood, "For God's sake, sir, do you want to finish your work by 
killing her?"

   "Madam, you can't ride a high horse here." "No, sir," said Mrs. M.; "I 
leave that for Mr. Wood to do." Bang went the door, and he was gone, and 

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in a few minutes he returned with Mr. McDonough.

   It was at muster-roll in the evening I left for Room 25, where Colonel 
Wood was, swearing as usual, and holding forth upon some argument that was 
engrossing the attention of a crowd of tobacco-smokers lying on the beds 
in every conceivable position; a choice party for Sunday evening; and, in 
their intercourse with one another, oaths made up what their ideas lacked 
in the formation of their sentiments.

   Finally Wood sang a song. Give him his due: he sang it well and with 
feeling. Then he left us, for which I fervently thanked Heaven. The moment 
that he went out singing commenced. Every one who could not sing was 
compelled to make a speech, and in this manner we managed to pass the time 
away quickly. When it 

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came to my turn to sing, I gave them the following verses, which I had 
hastily written for the occasion; and, as I went on, one by one, the 
members who formed the company of Rooms 25 aloud 26 joined in the strain, 
until every one who could sing had done their part to swell the volume of 
song; and, at its conclusion, long applause greeted me from all sides. The 
following was the song, sung to the tune of "God save the Queen:" - 

I.

"'Land of the Pilgrims' pride, 
  Land where our fathers died,' 
  Thy doom is read. 
  From every hill and glen, 
  In lowland, marsh, and fen, 
  Thy fate is written there, 
  Thy glory fled. 

II.

"Ambition holds her sway; 
 Injustice rules the day. 

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 Save Us, O God! 
 Spies, paid by those who reign, 
 Belie the freeman's fame, 
 And terror reigns supreme. 
 Help us, good Lord! 

IV.

"Arise, ye men who dare, 
 Who for your rights 'do care:' 
 Uphold the laws. 
 Uphold them as they were, 
 Not as at present are: 
 Prove freemen as of yore. 
 Uphold your cause. 

V.

"What! are ye silent still?
 Have ye no manly will 
 To battle them? 
 Yes, yes! ye will, ye come: 
 I hear the fife and drum! 
 Hark to th' increasing hum 
 Of fearless men. 

VI.

"Strike! for the old times gone.
 Strike! for your slaughtered sons,

 Page 189

 And honour fled. 
 Down with the feudal horde, 
 Who irritate and goad,
 With prison, debt, and sword, 
 And scoff the dead." 

   You know that I do not claim to be a poet; so that should you, in 
glancing over these scraps, have your attention directed for a moment to 
their errors, forbear, if you please, from laughing at them, and recollect 
that they were thrown off hastily in my prison home, and served to while 
away a few heavy moments on Christmas evening.



Page 190

CHAPTER XIII.
Mr. H's Journal continued - A Visit from my Parents - The Order for 
Removal - On the March - "Do you know Belle Boyd?" - An abrupt 
Introduction - Arrival in Philadelphia - Dismal Night Quarters - An 
unpleasant Ordeal - The Menagerie - En route for Wilmington - An Eight-
mile March - The Osceola - Fort Delaware - "Fresh Fish" - "Miss Belle 
Boyd's Husband" - New Year's Eve - Turned Cook - Snowballing - Sharp 
Practice.

   ON the 30th day of December, as I was busily engaged in writing, Mr. 
Wilson, the superintendent, called me down into the office to see my 
father and mother, who 

Page 191

had come on from New York to visit me.

   Previous to their coming to the Old Carroll they had gone to Secretary 
Stanton to procure the necessary pass. That gentleman expressed himself 
astonished at their coming, but, after some considerable delay, having 
ascertained that the purport of their visit was purely such an one as two 
fond parents would be supposed to pay their son in "durance vile," gave 
them the necessary order, without which they could not have seen me.

   Whilst we were seated together, conversing upon various topics, Mr. 
Wilson entered the room and said, addressing his remarks to me - 

   "Mr. Hardinge, you must get ready, sir."

   "For what?" I said. "Is it then indeed 

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true that I am to be sent to Fort Delaware?"

   "I presume so, sir," was the reply to my inquiry.

   Of course I was powerless to do aught for myself to prevent it. The 
scene that ensued was very affecting. My poor mother wept bitterly, and, 
unable to endure it unmoved any longer, I hastily quitted the room.

   Whilst engaged in packing together what few articles of clothing I 
possessed - I do not imagine I was more than five minutes about it - I was 
again interrupted by Mr. Wilson with - 

   "Come, sir!"

   "But I have not got my things together yet," I said.

   "Well, if you haven't, there ain't no time to spare; so come along with 
you."

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   Seeing no possible way of obtaining a brief respite, I hastily bid 
adieu to those of my room-mates who were about me, and, taking my few 
clothes, I followed my gaoler.

   Down-stairs my poor mother again saw me; she was still weeping, and at 
times sobbed audibly. Near her, my father stood looking at me sadly.

   My mother pressed forward and flung her arms round my neck, saying as 
she did so, "God bless you, my son!" and then, blinded by her tears, she 
staggered rather than walked from the room, my father following.

   I was immediately searched, then gruffly ordered to "Fall in and be d--
d to you!" with the rest of the prisoners, seven in number.

   The orders were then given to "Right 

Page 194

face! Forward, march!" and away we went. In front of this modern bastile 
we were again halted. Guards were then stationed on each side of us, a 
lieutenant marching in front with a drawn sword.

   We were, upon our arrival at the dépôt, again halted and drawn up into 
line, where we remained for some time, the rain descending upon us in 
torrents, drenching us to the skin. We asked permission of our guards to 
seek shelter under a roof where they themselves were standing, but we were 
gruffly refused.

   When the rain had ceased we were marched into one of the railway 
carriages. Lieutenant C., belonging to Major Harry Gilmore's command, sat 
on the same seat with me. He was, as I afterwards found, very loquacious, 
and, though a perfect stranger, entered into a spirited 

Page 195

conversation that was kept up nearly the whole way. As I have before 
stated, he did not, of course, know who I was, nor my name; and once, 
during a lull in our discussions, he said - 

   "By the way, did you ever hear tell of Miss Belle Boyd?"

   I smilingly assented that I had.

   "Well," he said, "there isn't a Southerner who would not lay down his 
life for her. When I was at the battle of Winchester I was wounded, and 
she came into the hospital where I was and inquired if there were any 
Maryland boys there. Amongst other delicacies, she gave me some very nice 
peach-brandy. She and Mrs. G. were in the fort, if I err not, cheering us 
on when we made a charge and drove the Yankees back. When she was in 
Montgomery 

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Hall, Alabama, in 1863, she attended a ball held there, and was the belle. 
She stopped a duel between two Frenchmen who were going to fight in the 
garden attached to the hotel. When she came back from her imprisonment she 
brought me a splendid uniform. You have no idea how every one loves and 
respects her," he added; "however, she married a Yankee, so I understand. 
But Miss Belle would never marry a Yankee, I am certain; I'll bet he was a 
rebel: indeed, I am confident of it; and --"

   "And the gentleman who sits beside you is her husband," I added, 
interrupting him; "and, like yourself, sir, I am a prisoner held by the 
Yankees."

   I never in my life saw a person so thoroughly dumfounded and confused 
for the moment; but finally he said - 

Page 197

   "Well, I trust that you will pardon me for what I have said; upon my 
honour I did not know who you were, or I would never have done as I have."

   "You have said nothing," I replied, "that a gentleman could construe 
into an insult; and I am happy to make the acquaintance of one who knew my 
wife so well." And for the rest of the way we were the best of friends.

   We arrived in Philadelphia about midnight; the same systematic process 
of guarding us was gone through with, and as we were marched out of the 
carriages sleepy passengers rubbed their eyes and stared at the "Johnnies" 
as we passed by them. We were quickly moved over opposite the station. 
Here we were halted for a few moments, the lieutenant leaving us in charge 
of the sergeant 

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whilst he went off to gather further information in regard to our 
movements. He returned, however, in a few moments; and, again taking up 
our line of march, we filed to the left, then to the right, in through a 
gateway, under an arch, through what had once been a doorway, then down 
through a long corridor whose sides were filled with camp bedsteads, and 
finally a dismal slave-pen, where there were no windows, only a narrow 
grated door. This, we were informed, was to be our quarters for the night. 
Our beds were the hard boards, our coverings what we stood in, our pillows 
knapsacks or valises.

   Sleep was out of the question; so, for the consideration of ten dollars 
in "greenbacks" (about two pounds sterling), I purchased from a 
calculating specimen of 

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Yankeedom about tenpence worth of tobacco, and tried to drown my cares and 
sorrows by smoking; but, although the "smoke" vanished, my woes and 
sorrows still clung to me. I felt very sore, stiff, cross, out of temper, 
and indisposed every way, which was in a measure increased the next 
morning by a breakfast off tin ware, of something. I know that I was very 
hungry, and ate and drank it.

   Could any one be more miserable than we under the circumstances? 
Soldiers, sailors, flunkies, women, &c., came and stared at us.

   "So that is him! oh my!" was the sentiment of a very stout, red-faced 
woman, staring in upon me. "Who'd a-thought it of him? What a wicked man!"

   "What will they do with him?" I heard one ask of another.

Page 200

   "Oh, hang him," was the fellow's reply.

   "Roasting's too good for him," said the other, with a laugh.

   "I wonder if I can get a button or piece of his coat?" I heard some one 
else say.

   "Ask him," said another.

   This species of degrading torture I endured until noon-time; when we 
were ordered out, and conducted, still under guard, to the cars that we 
had occupied the night before on our way from Washington, now on our way 
to Wilmington, Delaware, where we arrived in about two hours' time.

   Once more we were ordered out of the carriage. I obeyed the command 
with an apathetic listlessness, for I had lost all spirit, as had the rest 
of our party, two of whom were old gentlemen, men who, 

Page 201

already had one foot in the grave, political prisoners like myself, men 
who had refused to take the oath of allegiance to the United States 
Government.

   This time we had a journey of eight miles on foot to make. True, 
apparently, this was not long; but to us it was indeed so. The roads were 
very bad; and almost all of the way we were over our ankles in mud and 
slushy snow; and it was not until after three hours of this torture that 
we marched into Newcastle. As we passed through the principal street women 
and men rushed to the windows and doors to see us, whilst a guard of 
honour (?), extemporized from all the small boys and girls in the village, 
attended us in the front and rear, gazing at us in wonderment.

   Arriving at the steamboat landing, much to our disappointment and 
surprise, the 

Page 202

steamer was not to be found, and we were ordered to right about; and this 
time, as if to add insult to injury, we were conducted to the Newcastle 
gaol, and confined in a convict's cell.

   In this horrid place we were left to our meditations until far into the 
evening, when we were marched out; and this time it was with a sensation 
of relief that I passed on to the deck of the Osceola. About 8 p.m. the 
Osceola got under way and proceeded down the river, en route for the 
fortress, about twelve miles distant. Several officers stationed at that 
place were on board, and came aft, questioning us, scanning our attire, 
features, &c. and, in fact, doing everything but poke us with sticks to 
make us roar.

   Upon our arrival at the landing (about 10 p.m.) the same routine of 
guarding was 

Page 203

gone through with as I have before described. At last we reached the 
provost-marshal's office. Here our names were registered, our age, State, 
when born, profession, whether citizen or soldier, &c. and, this 
accomplished, it being late, we were conducted into the "Privates' 
Barracks," and lodged in the Virginia division, in which were confined 
some thirteen hundred privates - a place that a gentleman-farmer in this 
country would not have permitted his pigs to live in, much less human 
beings.

   As we entered the doorway yells and shouts from every side greeted us 
of "Fresh fish! fresh fish!" Men and boys crowded around us to find out 
from "whence we came," "what we were held for," "who we were," and last, 
but not least, "had they gone through us;" in other words, 

Page 204

and more plainly speaking, "had the sentries outside searched us."

   To this last question I assured my questioners that the Yankees outside 
had done so most effectually.

   Several of them proposed "tossing us in a blanket," by way of diversion 
to the rest, and many were evidently in favour of it, when suddenly 
Sergeant B of the division sprang forward and shouted out at the top of 
his voice -

   "By Jove! boys, this gentleman is Miss Belle Boyd's husband; you 
wouldn't wound her feelings by insulting him, would you?"

   In an instant the shout that was raised was perfectly deafening. I was 
received with empressement by the whole body of Confederate prisoners.

   In spite of this, however, I passed a 

Page 205

miserable night, and awoke more dead than alive with the excessive cold, 
having no covering to shield me from the weather, the hard floor for my 
bed. At 9 a.m I ate my initiatory meal at Fort Delaware, consisting of a 
piece of flinty bread and the smallest morsel of pork, yellow with age. 
The latter delicacy I gave away, not having been here long enough to 
appreciate such dainties and eat anything that was placed before me.

   Jan. 1st, 1865. - I passed a dreadful New Year's Eve; cowering over the 
fire until far into the mid-watch, with my gloomy thoughts for sole 
companions - fitting company, though, for such a place as this. The floor 
is my bed again to-night, and I sleep as the dogs sleep - half-waking, 
half-sleeping. Once I awoke, hearing some one engaged 

Page 206

in prayer; deep silence prevailed round about; and whoever he was - the 
speaker I mean - he spoke impressively. Before I retired for the night I 
called upon General Vance and his staff, and passed a very pleasant 
evening.

   Jan. 2nd. - Some of the "boys" gave me a blanket, and another handed me 
his overcoat; so that I managed to sleep warmer than usual. Found several 
friends of mine here from Mobile, Alabama. Captain W. gave me a very good 
cup of coffee for my dinner. The days drag wearily by, God knows. 
Everybody treats me kindly. I have found warm friends. Am getting 
accustomed to my "feather bed of boards."

   Jan. 2nd. - Two letters. Very gloomy, and dull, and cold. In the 
evening heard some very fine singing; Captain -- sang 

Page 207

an aria from "Norma" that he rendered excellently well.

   Jan. 3rd and 4th. - Wrote to my friends outside the prison to-day. 
Whilst engaged in this occupation, one of General Vance's aides brought me 
an invitation from the General to dine with them. Passed a pleasant 
afternoon in their society; and was introduced to Captain M., brother of 
General M., the distinguished Kentucky cavalry officer, and we became very 
warm friends afterwards.

   Jan. 5th. - I attempted my first cup of tea this morning. Just fancy my 
having turned cook! My friends laughed heartily at my handiwork; for I put 
the tea in the cup, then the snow upon that, waiting for that to melt into 
water and boil. Meanwhile the tea suffered the natural result of such 
stupidity by being burnt.

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   Jan. 6th. - Saw an account in the paper of my friend Mrs. Col. -- 
having been sent South. Thank God she is free!

   Jan. 8th. - Received a letter from one of my friends outside to-day, 
smuggled in by the underground route; there is hope for me yet in Rome 
with Nero. Saw an account of my removal from the Carroll Prison here, 
headed -

   "THE HUSBAND OF BELLE BOYD. - The husband of Belle Boyd, the famous 
Rebel Spy, took refreshments in the guard-house of the Citizen's Volunteer 
Hospital on Friday afternoon, on his way to Fort Delaware. Dr. (?) 
Kenderdine was careful to provide secure quarters for this noted 
individual."

   Jan. 9th and 10th. - Damp weather. Afflicted with the "blues." My feet 
so swollen that I cannot put my boots on.

   Jan. 11th. - Whitewashed our division to-day. The guard kept us out in 
the 

Page 209

snow, that had fallen heavily. Passed the time away by snow-balling one 
another. One of these frozen missiles falling near a sentry, he 
deliberately fired upon us, but fortunately without doing any mischief, 
although the ball ploughed the snow up very near one of our party.