The election of Delegates to determine the status of Mississippi—The Vigilance Committee—Description of its members—Charges—Phonography—No formal verdict—Danger of Assassination—Passports—Escape to Rienzi—Union sentiment—The Conscript Law—Summons to attend Court-Martial—Evacuation of Corinth—Destruction of Cotton—Suffering poor—Relieved by General Halleck.
The election of Delegates to determine the status of Mississippi—The Vigilance Committee—Description of its members—Charges—Phonography—No formal verdict—Danger of Assassination—Passports—Escape to Rienzi—Union sentiment—The Conscript Law—Summons to attend Court-Martial—Evacuation of Corinth—Destruction of Cotton—Suffering poor—Relieved by General Halleck.
Soon after this sermon was preached, the election was held. Approaching the polls, I asked for a Union ticket, and was informed that none had been printed, and that it would be advisable to vote the secession ticket. I thought otherwise, and going to a desk, wrote out a Union ticket, and voted it amidst the frowns and suppressed murmurs of the judges and bystanders, and, as the result proved, I had the honour of depositing the only vote in favour of the Union which was polled in that precinct. I knew of many who were in favour of the Union, who were intimidated by threats, andby the odium attending it from voting at all. A majority of secession candidates were elected. The convention assembled, and on the 9th of January, 1861, Mississippi had the unenviable reputation of being the first to follow her twin sister, South Carolina, into the maelstrom of secession and treason. Being the only States in which the slaves were more numerous than the whites, it became them to lead the van in the slave-holders’ rebellion. Before the 4th of March, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana and Texas had followed in the wake, and were engulfed in the whirlpool of secession.
It was now dangerous to utter a word in favour of the Union. Many suspected of Union sentiments were lynched. An old gentleman in Winston county was arrested for an act committed twenty years before, which was construed as a proof of his abolition proclivities. The old gentleman had several daughters, and his mother-in-law had given him a negro girl. Observing that his daughters were becoming lazy, and were imposing all the labour upon the slave, he sent her back to the donor,with a statement of the cause for returning her. This was now the ground of his arrest, but escaping from their clutches, a precipitate flight alone saved his life.
Self-constituted vigilance committees sprang up all over the country, and a reign of terror began; all who had been Union men, and who had not given in their adhesion to the new order of things by some public proclamation, were supposed to be disaffected. The so-called Confederate States, the new power, organized for the avowed purpose of extending and perpetuating African slavery, was now in full blast. Thesesoi-disantvigilance committees professed to carry out the will of Jeff. Davis. All who were considered disaffected were regarded as being tinctured with abolitionism. My opposition to the disruption of the Union being notorious, I was summoned to appear before one of these august tribunals to answer the charge of being an abolitionist. My wife was very much alarmed, knowing that were I found guilty of the charge, there was no hope for mercy. Flight was impossible, and I deemedit the safest plan to appear before the committee. I found it to consist of twelve persons, five of whom I knew, viz., Parson Locke, Armstrong, Cartledge, Simpson, and Wilbanks. Parson Locke, the chief speaker, or rather the inquisitor-general, was a Methodist minister, though he had fallen into disrepute among his brethren, and was engaged in a tedious strife with the church which he left in Holmes county. The parson was a real Nimrod. He boasted that in five months he had killed forty-eight raccoons, two hundred squirrels, and ten deer; he had followed the bloodhounds, and assisted in the capture of twelve runaway negroes. W. H. Simpson was a ruling elder in my church. Wilbanks was a clever sort of old gentleman, who had little to say in the matter. Armstrong was a monocular Hard-shell-Baptist. Cartledge was an illiterate, conceited individual. The rest were a motley crew, not one of whom, I feel confident, knew a letter in the alphabet. The committee assembled in an old carriage-shop. Parson Locke acted, as chairman, and conducted the trial, as follows.
“Parson Aughey, you have been reported to us as holding abolition sentiments, and as being disloyal to the Confederate States.”
“Who reported me, and where are your witnesses?”
“Any one has a right to report, and it is optional whether he confronts the accused or not. The proceedings of vigilance committees are somewhat informal.”
“Proceed, then, with the trial, in your own way.”
“We propose to ask you a few questions, and in your answers you may defend yourself, or admit your guilt. In the first place, did you ever say that you did not believe that God ordained the institution of slavery?”
“I believe that God did not ordain the institution of slavery.”
“Did not God command the Israelites to buy slaves from the Canaanitish nations, and to hold them as their property for ever?”
“The Canaanites had filled their cup of iniquity to overflowing, and God commanded the Israelites to exterminate them; this, inviolation of God’s command, they failed to do. God afterwards permitted the Hebrews to reduce them to a state of servitude; but the punishment visited upon those seven wicked nations by the command of God, does not justify war or the slave-trade.”
“Did you say that you were opposed to the slavery which existed in the time of Christ?”
“I did, because the system of slavery prevailing in Christ’s day was cruel in the extreme; it conferred the power of life and death upon the master, and was attended with innumerable evils. The slave had the same complexion as his master; and by changing his servile garb for the citizen dress, he could not be recognised as a slave. You yourself profess to be opposed to white slavery.”
“Did you state that you believed Paul, when he sent Onesimus back to Philemon, had no idea that he would be regarded as a slave, and treated as such after his return?”
“I did. My proof is in Philemon, verses 15 and 16, where the apostle asks that Onesimusbe received, not as a servant, but as a brother beloved?”
“Did you tell Mr. Creath that you knew some negroes who were better, in every respect, than some white men?”
“I said that I knew some negroes who were better classical scholars than any white men I had as yet met with in Choctaw county, and that I had known some who were pre-eminent for virtue and holiness. As to natural rights, I made no comparison; nor did I say anything about superiority or inferiority of race; I also stated my belief in the unity of the races.”
“Have you any abolition works in your library, and a poem in your scrap-book, entitled ‘The Fugitive Slave,’ with this couplet as a refrain,
‘The hounds are baying on my track;Christian, will you send me back?’”
“I have not Mrs. Stowe’s nor Helper’s work; they are contraband in this region, and I could not get them if I wished. I have many works in my library containing sentiments adverse tothe institution of slavery. All the works in common use amongst us, on law, physic, and divinity, all the text-books in our schools—in a word, all the works on every subject read and studied by us, were, almost without exception, written by men opposed to the peculiar institution. I am not alone in this matter.”
“Parson, I saw Cowper’s works in your library, and Cowper says:
‘I would not have a slave to fan me when I sleep,And tremble when I wake, for all the wealthThat sinews bought and sold have ever earned.’”
“You have Wesley’s writings, and Wesley says that ‘Human slavery is the sum of all villany.’ You have a work which has this couplet:
‘Two deep, dark stains, mar all our country’s bliss:Foul slavery one, and one, loathed drunkenness.’
You have the work of an English writer of high repute, who says, ‘Forty years ago, some in England doubted whether slavery were a sin, and regarded adultery as a venial offence; but behold the progress of truth! Who nowdoubts that he who enslaves his fellow-man is guilty of a fearful crime, and that he who violates the seventh commandment is a great sinner in the sight of God?’”
“You are known to be an adept in Phonography, and you are reported to be a correspondent of an abolition Phonographic journal.”
“I understand the science of Phonography, and I am a correspondent of a Phonographic journal, but the journal eschews politics.”
Another member of the committee then interrogated me.
“Parson Aughey, what is Funnyography?”
“Phonography, sir, is a system of writing by means of a philosophic alphabet, composed of the simplest geometrical signs, in which one mark is used to represent one and invariably the same sound.”
“Kin you talk Funnyography? and where does them folks live what talks it?”
“Yes, sir, I converse fluently in Phonography, and those who speak the language live in Columbia.”
“In the Destrict?”
“No, sir, in the poetical Columbia.”
I was next interrogated by another member of the committee.
“Parson Aughey, is Phonography a Abolition fixin?”
“No, sir; Phonography, abstractly considered, has no political complexion; it may be used to promote either side of any question, sacred or profane, mental, moral, physical, or political.”
“Well, you ought to write and talk plain English, what common folks can understand, or we’ll have to say of you, what Agrippa said of Paul, ‘Much learning hath made thee mad.’ Suppose you was to preach in Phonography, who’d understand it?—who’d know what was piped or harped? I’ll bet high some Yankee invented it to spread his abolition notions underhandedly. I, for one, would be in favour of makin’ the parson promise to write and talk no more in Phonography. I’ll bet Phonography is agin slavery, tho’ I never hearn tell of it before. I’m agin all secret societies. I’m agin the Odd-fellers, Free-masons,Sons of Temperance, Good Templars and Phonography. I want to know what’s writ and what’s talked. You can’t throw dust in my eyes. Phonography, from what I’ve found out about it to-day, is agin the Confederate States, and we ought to be agin it.”
Parson Locke then resumed:
“I must stop this digression. Parson Aughey, are you in favour of the South?”
“I am in favour of the South, and have always endeavoured to promote the best interests of the South. However, I never deemed it for the best interests of the South to secede. I talked against secession, and voted against secession, because I thought that the best interests of the South would be put in jeopardy by the secession of the Southern States. I was honest in my convictions, and acted accordingly. Could the sacrifice of my life have stayed the swelling tide of secession, it would gladly have been made.”
“It is said that you have never prayed for the Southern Confederacy.”
“I have prayed for the whole world, though it is true that I have never named the Confederate States in prayer.”
“You may retire.”
After I had retired, the committee held a long consultation. My answers were not satisfactory. I never learned all that transpired. They brought in no formal verdict. The majority considered me a dangerous man, but feared to take my life, as they were, with one exception, adherents of other denominations, and they knew that my people were devotedly attached to me before the secession movement. Some of the secessionists swore that they would go to my house and murder me, when they learned that the committee had not hanged me. My friends provided me secretly with arms, and I determined to defend myself to the last. I slept with a double-barrelled shot-gun at my head, and was prepared to defend myself against a dozen at least.
Learning that I was not acceptable to many of the members of my church, whilst my lifewas in continual jeopardy, and my family in a state of constant alarm, I abandoned my field of labour, and sought for safety in a more congenial clime. I intended to go North. Jeff. Davis and his Congress had granted permission to all who so desired, to leave the South. Several Union men of my acquaintance applied for passports, but were refused. The proclamation to grant permits was an act of perfidy; all those, so far as I am informed, who made application for them, were refused. The design in thus acting was to get Union men to declare themselves as such, and afterwards to punish them for their sentiments by forcing them into the army, confining them in prison, shooting them, or lynching them by mob violence. Finding that were I to demand a passport to go north, I would be placed on the proscribed list, and my life endangered still more, I declared my intention of going back to Tishomingo county, in which I owned property, and which was the home of many of my relatives. I knew that I would be safer there, for this county had electedUnion delegates by a majority of over fourteen hundred, and a strong Union sentiment had always prevailed.
On my arrival in Tishomingo, I found that the great heart of the county still beat true to the music of the Union. Being thrown out of employment I deemed it my duty, in every possible way, to sustain the Union cause and the enforcement of the laws. It was impossible to go north. Union sentiments could be expressed with safety in many localities. Corinth, Iuka, and Rienzi had, from the commencement of the war, been camps of instruction for the training of Confederate soldiers. These three towns in the county being thus occupied, Union men found it necessary to be more cautious, as the cavalry frequently made raids through the county, arresting and maltreating those suspected of disaffection. After the reduction of Forts Henry and Donelson, and the surrender of Nashville, the Confederates made the Memphis and Charleston railroad the base of their operations, their armies extending from Memphis to Chattanooga. Soon, however, they were allconcentrated at Corinth, a town in Tishomingo county, at the junction of the Memphis and Charleston railroad with the Mobile and Ohio. After the battle of Shiloh, which was fought on the 6th and 7th of April, the Federal troops held their advance at Farmington, four miles from Corinth, while the Confederates occupied Corinth, their rear guard holding Rienzi, twelve miles south, on the Mobile and Ohio railroad.
Thus there were two vast armies encamped in Tishomingo county. Being within the Confederate lines, I, in common with many others, found it difficult to evade the conscript law. Knowing that in a multitude of counsellors there is wisdom, we held secret meetings, in order to devise the best method of resisting the law. We met at night, and had our countersigns to prevent detection. Often our wives, sisters, and daughters met with us. Our meeting-place was some ravine, or secluded glen, as far as possible from the haunts of the secessionists; all were armed; even the ladies had revolvers, and could use them too. The crime of treason we were resolved not to commit. Ourcounsels were somewhat divided, some advocating, as a matter of policy, the propriety of attending the militia musters, others opposing it for conscience’ sake, and for the purpose of avoiding every appearance of evil. Many who would not muster as conscripts, resolved to escape to the Federal lines; and making the attempt two or three at a time, succeeded in crossing the Tennessee river, and reaching the Union army, enlisted under the old flag, and have since done good service as patriot warriors. Some who were willing to muster as conscripts, were impressed into the Confederate service, and I know not whether they ever found an opportunity to desert. Others, myself among the number, were saved by the timely arrival of the Federal troops, and the occupation of the county by them, after Beauregard’s evacuation of Corinth. I had received three citations to attend muster, but disregarding them, I was summoned to attend a court-martial on the first day of June, at the house of Mr. Jim Mock. The following is a copy of the citation.
Ma the 22d. 1862Parson Awhay, You havent tended nun of our mustters as a konskrip. Now you is her bi sumenzd to attend a kort marshal on Jun the fust at Jim Mock.
Ma the 22d. 1862
Parson Awhay, You havent tended nun of our mustters as a konskrip. Now you is her bi sumenzd to attend a kort marshal on Jun the fust at Jim Mock.
When I received the summons, I resolved to attempt reaching the Union lines at Farmington. Two of my friends, who had received a similar summons, expected to accompany me. On the 29th of May, I left for Rienzi, where my two friends were to meet me. I had not been many hours in Rienzi when it became evident that the Confederates were evacuating Corinth. On the 1st of June, (the day the court-martial was to convene,) I had the pleasure of once more beholding the star-spangled banner as it was borne in front of General Granger’s command, which led the van of the pursuing army. Had I remained and attended the court-martial, I would have been forced into the army. Were I then to declare that I would not take up arms against the United States, I would have been shot, as manyhave been, for their refusal thus to act. General Rosecrans, on his arrival, made his head-quarters at my brother’s house, where I had the pleasure of forming his acquaintance, together with that of Generals Smith, Granger, and Pope. As this county was now occupied by the Federal army, I returned to my father-in-law’s, within five miles of which place the court-martial had been ordered to convene, considering myself comparatively safe. I learned that the court-martial never met, as Colonel Elliott, in his successful raid upon Boonville, had passed Jim Mock’s, scaring him to such a degree, that he did not venture to sleep in his house for two weeks. The Union cavalry scoured the country in all directions, daily, and we were rejoicing at the prospect of continuous safety, and freedom from outrage.
The Rebels, during their retreat, had burned all the cotton which was accessible to their cavalry, on their route. At night, the flames of the burning cotton lighted up the horizon for miles around. These baleful pyres, withtheir lurid glare, bore sad testimony to the horrors of war. In this wanton destruction of the great southern staple, many poor families lost their whole staff of bread, and starvation stared them in the face. Many would have perished, had it not been for the liberal contributions of the North; for, learning the sufferings of the poor of the South, whose whole labour had been destroyed by pretended friends, they sent provisions and money, and thus many who were left in utter destitution, were saved by this timely succor. I have heard the rejoicings of the poor, who, abandoned by their supposed friends, were saved, with their children, from death, by the beneficence of those whom they had been taught to regard as enemies the most bitter, implacable, unmerciful, and persistent. Their prayer may well be, Save us from our friends, whose tender mercies are cruel! I have never known a man to burn his own cotton, but I have heard their bitter anathemas hurled against those who thus robbed them, and their denunciations were loud and deep against the government whichauthorized such cruelty. It is true that those who thus lose their cotton, if secessionists, receive a “promise to pay,” which all regard as not worth the paper on which it is written. Ere pay-day, those who are dependent on their cotton for the necessaries of life, would have passed the bourne whence no traveller returns. ’Tis like the Confederate bonds—at first they were made payable two years after date, and printed upon paper which would be worn out entirely in six months, and would have become illegible in half that time. The succeeding issues were made payable six months after the ratification of a treaty of peace between the United States and the Confederate States. Though not a prophet, nor a prophet’s son, I venture the prediction that those bonds will never be due. The war of elements, the wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds, announcing the end of all things, will be heard sooner.
ARREST, ESCAPE, AND RECAPTURE.
High price of Provisions—Holland Lindsay’s Family—The arrest—Captain Hill—Appearance before Colonel Bradfute at Fulton—Arrest of Benjamin Clarke—Bradfute’s Insolence—General Chalmers—The clerical Spy—General Pfeifer—Under guard—Priceville—General Gordon—Bound for Tupelo—The Prisoners entering the Dungeon—Captain Bruce—Lieutenant Richard Malone—Prison Fare and Treatment—Menial Service—Resolve to escape—Plan of escape—Federal Prisoners—Co-operation of the Prisoners—Declaration of Independence—The Escape—The Separation—Concealment—Travel on the Underground Railroad—Pursuit by Cavalry and Bloodhounds—The Arrest—Dan Barnes, the Mail-robber—Perfidy—Heavily ironed—Return to Tupelo.
High price of Provisions—Holland Lindsay’s Family—The arrest—Captain Hill—Appearance before Colonel Bradfute at Fulton—Arrest of Benjamin Clarke—Bradfute’s Insolence—General Chalmers—The clerical Spy—General Pfeifer—Under guard—Priceville—General Gordon—Bound for Tupelo—The Prisoners entering the Dungeon—Captain Bruce—Lieutenant Richard Malone—Prison Fare and Treatment—Menial Service—Resolve to escape—Plan of escape—Federal Prisoners—Co-operation of the Prisoners—Declaration of Independence—The Escape—The Separation—Concealment—Travel on the Underground Railroad—Pursuit by Cavalry and Bloodhounds—The Arrest—Dan Barnes, the Mail-robber—Perfidy—Heavily ironed—Return to Tupelo.
At this time—May and June, 1862—all marketable commodities were commanding fabulous prices; as a lady declared, it would soon be necessary, on going to a store, to carry two baskets, one to hold the money, and the other the goods purchased. Flour was thirty dollars per barrel, bacon forty cents per pound, andcoffee one dollar per pound. Salt was nominally one hundred dollars per sack of one hundred pounds, or one dollar per pound, but there was none to be obtained even at that price. Ladies were compelled to dispense with salt in their culinary operations; even the butter was unsalted. Cotton-cards, an article used in every house at the South, the ordinary price of which is fifty cents per pair, were selling at twenty-five dollars per pair, and wool-cards at fifteen dollars per pair, the usual price being thirty-eight cents. All the cotton used in the manufacture of home-made cloth, is carded into rolls upon these cotton-cards, which are brought from the North, there being not a single manufactory of them in the South. When the supply on hand becomes exhausted, the southern home manufacture of cloth must cease, no one as yet having been able to suggest a substitute for the cotton-card. There are only three factories in Mississippi, which must cease running as soon as their machinery wears out, as the most important parts of the machinery in those factories are supplied from the North. The peopleare fully aware of these difficulties, but they can devise no remedy, hence the high price of all articles used in the manufacture of all kinds of cloths. All manufactured goods were commanding fabulous prices. On the occupation of the county by Federal troops, goods could be obtained at reasonable prices, but our money was all gone, except Confederate bonds, which were worthless. Planters who were beyond the lines of the retreating army had cotton, but many of them feared to sell it, as the Rebels professed to regard it treason to trade with the invaders, and threatened to execute the penalty in every case. As there was no penalty attached to the selling of cotton by one citizen of Mississippi to another, some of my friends offered to sell me their cotton for a reasonable price.
I was solicited also to act as their agent in the purchase of commodities. I agreed to this risk, because of the urgent need of my friends, many of whom were suffering greatly for the indispensable necessaries of life. I thought it was better that one should suffer, than that thewhole people should perish. By this arrangement my Union friends would escape the punishment meted out to those who were found guilty of trading with the Yankees; if discovered, I alone would be amenable to their unjust and cruel law, and they would thus save their cotton, which was liable to be destroyed at any moment by a dash of rebel cavalry. I now hired a large number of wagons to haul cotton into Eastport and Iuka, that I might ship it to the loyal States. On the 2d of June the wagons were to rendezvous at a certain point; there were a sufficient number to haul one hundred bales per trip. I hoped to keep them running for some time.
On the first of June I rode to Mr. Holland Lindsay’s on business. I had learned that he was a rabid secessionist, but supposed that no rebel cavalry had come so far north as his house since the evacuation of Corinth. Mr. Lindsay had gone to a neighbour’s. His wife was weaving; she was a coarse, masculine woman, and withal possessed of strong prejudice against all whom she did not like, but especially theYankees. I sat down to await the arrival of her husband, and it was not long before Mrs. Lindsay broached the exciting topic of the day, the war. She thus vented her spleen against the Yankees.
“There was some Yankee calvary passed here last week—they asked me if there wos ony rebels scoutin round here lately. I jest told em it want none of ther bizness. Them nasty, good for nothin scamps callen our men rebels. Them nigger-stealin, triflin scoundrels. They runs off our niggers, and wont let us take em to Mexico and the other territories.”
I ventured to remark, “The Yankees are mean, indeed, not to letustakeournegroes to the Territories, and not to help catch them foruswhen they run off.”
The emphaticusandournettled her, as none of the Lindsays ever owned a negro, being classed by the southern nabobs as among thepoor white trash; nor did I ever own a slave. Her husband, however, had once been sent to the Legislature, which led the family to ape the manners, and studiously copy the ultraism ofthe classes above them. Mrs. Lindsay became morose. I concluded to ride over and see her husband.
On my way I met a member of Hill’s cavalry. He halted me, inquired my name and business, which I gave. He said that, years ago, he had heard me preach, and that he was well acquainted with my brothers-in-law, who were officers in the Rebel army. He informed me that his uncle, Mr. Lindsay, had gone across the field home, and that he himself was on his way there. I returned with him, but fearing arrest, my business was hastily attended to, and I at once started for my horse. By this time one or two other cavalry-men rode up. I heard Mrs. Lindsay informing her nephew that I was a Union man, and advising my arrest. When I had reached my horse, Mr. Davis, Lindsay’s nephew arrested me, and sent my horse to the stable. After supper, my horse was brought, and I was taken to camp. Four men were detached to guard me during the night. They ordered me to lie down on the ground and sleep. As it had rained during the day, and Ihad no blanket, I insisted upon going to a Mr. Spigener’s, about fifty yards distant, to secure a bed. After some discussion they consented, the guards remaining in the room, and guarding me by turns during the night. The next morning I sought Captain Hill, and asked permission to return home, when the following colloquy ensued.
“Are you a Union man?”
“I voted the Union ticket, sir.”
“That is not a fair answer. I voted the Union ticket myself, and am now warring against the Union.”
“I have seen no good reason for changing my sentiments.”
“You confess, then, that you are a Union man?”
“I do; I regard the union of these States as of paramount importance to the welfare of the people inhabiting them.”
“You must go to head-quarters, where you will be dealt with as we are accustomed to deal with all the abettors of an Abolition government.”
A heavy guard was then detached to take charge of me, and the company set off for Fulton, the county seat of Ittawamba county, Mississippi, distant thirty miles. After going about ten miles, we halted, and two men were detached to go forward with the prisoners, a Mr. Benjamin Clarke and myself. Our guards were Dr. Crossland, of Burnsville, Tishomingo county, Mississippi, and Ferdinand Woodruff. They were under the influence of liquor, and talked incessantly, cursing and insulting us, on every occasion, by abusive language. They detailed to each other a history of their licentious amours. We halted for dinner at one o’clock, and being out of money, they asked me to pay their bill, which I did, they promising to refund the amount when they reached Fulton. This they forgot to do.
On our arrival at Fulton, we were taken into the office of the commander of the post, Colonel Bradfute. My fellow-prisoner was examined first. Woodruff stated that they had played off on Mr. Clarke—calling onhim, as he was plowing in the field, stating that they were Federal soldiers. They asked Clarke what were his political views. He replied that he always had been a Union man—had voted the Union ticket, and would do it again, if another election were held; that he hated the secession principles, and would enlist in the Federal army as soon as he got his crop in such a condition that his family could attend to it. On hearing this statement, Bradfute became very angry, swearing that Clarke ought to be taken out and shot then, but that a few days’ respite would make but little difference. Said he, addressing the guards, had you hung Clarke, you would have saved us some trouble, and have done your country good service. The Colonel, turning round, glared upon me with eyes inflamed with passion and liquor, and thus addressed me:
“Are you a Union man too?”
“I am, sir. I have never denied it.”
“Where do you reside?”
“I consider Rienzi my home, but have been staying for some time at my father-in-law’s, in the south-eastern part of Tishomingo county.”
“What is your father-in-law’s name?”
“Mr. Alexander Paden.”
“I know the old gentleman and his three sons. They are all in the Confederate service. They are brave men, and have done some hard fighting in our cause. How happens it that you look at matters in a different light from your relatives?”
“I am not guided in my opinions by the views of my friends.”
“What is your profession?”
“I am a minister of the gospel.”
“I suppose, then, that you go to the Bible for your politics, and that you are a sort of higher-law man.”
“My Bible teaches, ‘Let every soul be subject to the higher powers, for there is no power but of God; the powers that be, are ordained of God. Whosoever, therefore, resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God; and they that resist shall receive to themselvesdamnation.’ I have seen no reason for resistance to the government under which we have, as a nation, so long prospered.”
“I command you to hush, sir; you shan’t preach treason to me, and if you get your deserts you will be hung immediately. Have you ever been within the Federal lines?”
“I have, sir.”
“At what points?”
“At Rienzi and Iuka.”
“When were you at Iuka?”
“On last Saturday.”
“Had the Federals a large force at that place, and who was in command?”
“They have a large force, and Generals Thomas and Steadman are in command.”
“That is contrary to the reports of our scouts, who say that there are but two regiments in the town. I fear you are purposely trying to mislead us.”
“General Steadman has but two regiments in the town, but General Thomas is within striking distance with a large force.”
“What was your business in Iuka?”
“I went there to pay a debt of fifty dollars which a widow owed, as she wished it to be paid in Confederate money before it became worthless.”
“Have you a Federal pass?”
“I have none with me, but I have one at home.”
“How does it read?”
“It was given by General Nelson, and reads thus: ‘The bearer, Rev. John H. Aughey, has permission to pass backward and forward through the lines of this division at will.’”
“Where were you born?”
“I was born in New Hartford, Oneida county, New York.”
“Yankee born,” said the Colonel, with a sneer; “you deserve death at the rope’s-end, and if I had the power I would hang all Yankees who are among us, for they are all tories, whatever may be their pretensions.”
“My being born north of the nigger-line, Colonel, if a crime worthy of death, was certainly not my fault, but the fault of my parents. They did not so much as consult me in regardto any preference I might have concerning the place of my nativity.”
Woodruff, one of my guards, now informed the Colonel that I was a spy, and, while the Confederates were at Corinth, had, to his certain knowledge, been three times at Nashville, carrying information. I told Woodruff that his statement was false, and that he knew it; that I had never been at Nashville in my life. General Chalmers, who was present, and Colonel Bradfute, at the conclusion of the examination, spent fifteen or twenty minutes in bitterly cursing all Yankees, tories, and traitors, as they termed us. All the conversation of the rebel officers was interlarded with the most horrid profanity. General Chalmers, in speaking, invariably called me the clerical spy. We were placed under guard, and sent to Brooksville, ten miles distant, the head-quarters of General Pfeifer. Immediately after our arrival, we were soundly berated by General Pfeifer, and then sent out to the camp, half a mile from the town, where we were placed under guard for the night, in a small plot of ground surrounded by a chain.We had no supper, and no blankets to sleep on. Our bed was the cold ground, our covering the blue canopy of heaven. The next morning we were started, without breakfast, under a heavy guard, numbering fourteen cavalry, to Priceville, six miles west of Brooksville. Priceville was named in honour of General Sterling Price, or rather the little village where he encamped had its name changed in his honour. When we reached Priceville we were taken to the head-quarters of General Jordan, and immediately brought into his presence. After reading the letter handed to him by one of the guard, he said, looking sternly at me,
“You are charged with sedition.”
I asked him what sedition meant, to which he replied:
“It means enough to hang you, you villanous tory!”
He also asked me where I was born. My reply was, in the State of New York, near Utica, in Oneida county.
“Then you doubly deserve death,” said he.
“As to the guilt of my nativity,” said I, “it is not my fault, for I could not have helped it if I had tried. But I glory in my native State. She has never done anything to disgrace her. She never repudiated her just debts, nor committed any other disgraceful act.”
“Well, you ought to have staid there, or have gone back when Mississippi seceded.”
“Give me an opportunity, and I will go instanter.”
“The firstgoingyou will do, will be to go to hell, where, if the devil had his due, you would have been long ago; and before you leave us, we will give you a free ticket to the shades infernal.”
“Thank you for your kind offer to give me a free pass to the infernal regions. I did not know before that you were the devil’s ticket-agent. You have me in your power, and may destroy my life; but when you have done that, there is no more that you can do.”
Very little was said to my fellow-prisoner, Clarke. A few curses for a traitor, tory, &c., was about all. We were now placed underguard, and conducted to Tupelo, and after visiting the provost-marshal’s office and the office of the commander of the post, whose names were Peden and Clare, we were committed to the Central Military Prison. As we entered, Captain Bruce and Lieutenant Malone (two gentlemen who had been elected to those offices by their fellow-prisoners) received us with a cordial greeting. Captain Bruce thus addressed us:
“Welcome, gentlemen, thrice welcome. I am rejoiced to see you at my hotel. We are now doing a land-office business, as the large number of my boarders, whom you see, will testify. We have numerous arrivals daily, whilst the departures are very few, giving evidence that all are satisfied with their treatment. The bill of fare is not very extensive. In these war times we must not expect the luxuries of life, but be content with the necessaries. It is true, we cannot furnish you with coffee, or molasses, or sugar, or salt, or beef, or vegetables; but we have something more substantial—we have flour, rather dark in colour, to besure, but people must not be squeamish. The boarders are required to do their own cooking, as they could otherwise have but little exercise; we consider it a sanitary measure, exercise being indispensable to health. We furnish the boarders, also, with meat—none of your lean meat, either, but fat middling, with a streak of lean in it. The Bible promises the righteous that their bread shall be given, and their water sure; but we go beyond the promise, and give not only bread (or rather the flour to make it) and water, but also fat, strong meat. What room will you be pleased to have?”
I replied, that as they seemed to be crowded, I would choose number 199.
“Well,” said the Captain, “it shall be prepared. Lieutenant Malone, have room number 199 fitted up for the reception of these gentlemen.”
Lieutenant Malone replied, that the room designated would be fitted up in style for our reception. He asked us if we had dined.
“No,” replied Clarke; “we have not tastedfood since yesterday at noon, when the Parson paid for his own dinner and the dinner of the guards. We asked for something to eat, but were as often refused, and now we are in a starving condition.”
“I pity you,” said Malone, laying aside his facetious style; “you shall have something to eat as soon as it can be cooked.”
He then went to some of the prisoners, and set them to cooking, and we were soon furnished with the best repast the poor fellows could supply.
We entered the prison July 3d, 1862, at two o’clock, P. M. Our prison was a grocery-house, its dimensions about twenty-five by fifty feet. When we were incarcerated, there were about seventy prisoners in the building, whites, mulattoes and negroes. The prison was filthy in the extreme, and filled with vermin; even our food was infested with them. No brooms were furnished us, and we could not sweep the floor. No beds were furnished, and we were compelled to lie upon the floor, with nocovering, and nothing but the hard planks beneath us.
Several times a day officers would come in and order a specified number of men to go and work, under a strong guard. We were made to clean the streets, roll barrels, and clean the hospital; but our own prison we were not permitted to clean. Every kind of drudgery, and the most menial services, were imposed upon us.
The crimes charged upon the prisoners were desertion, trading with the Yankees, adhesion to the United States government or Unionism, acting as spies, refusing Confederate bonds, and piloting the Yankees. The crime of the negroes and mulattoes was endeavouring to escape on the underground railroad from Dixie land and the Iron Furnace. These remained till their masters were informed of their arrest, and came for and released them. On the evening preceding our imprisonment, two prisoners had been led out and shot, and I soon learned that this was no unusual occurrence. Nearlyevery day witnessed the execution of one or more of us. Those who were doomed to die were heavily ironed. In some cases, however, those who were not in fetters were taken out and shot or hanged, often with no previous warning; though sometimes a few hours warning was given.
Our privations were so great from a want of proper food and water—for the scanty amount of water furnished us was tepid and foul—and from a lack of beds, cots, couches, or something better than a filthy floor whereon to sleep, that I resolved to attempt an escape at the risk of my life. I felt confident that I could not long survive such cruel treatment. As soon as my arrest was known to the thirty-second Mississippi regiment, encamped in the suburbs of Tupelo, the colonel, major, adjutant, and one of the captains called upon me. This regiment was raised in Tishomingo county, one of the companies, the Zollicoffer Avengers, being from Rienzi, where I had been for years proprietor and Principal of the Rienzi Female Seminary. The daughters of many of the officers of thisregiment had been educated at this Seminary during my superintendence. Some of these officers had expressed themselves under great obligations to me, for the thorough, moral, mental, and physical training of their children while under my care. As proof of this, I have their own statements, as published in the public journals of the day. Owing me a debt of gratitude, as they professed, could I expect less than the manifestation of deep sympathy for me in my sad condition—confined in a gloomy dungeon, deprived of the comforts, yea, even the necessaries of life, menaced and insulted by the officers in whose power I was? Whatever may have been my hopes, they were doomed to be blasted. These summer friends, so obsequious in my prosperity, conversed for a while on indifferent topics, never alluding to my condition, and as I did not obtrude it upon their attention, they left, promising to call again. I said, “Do so, gentlemen; you will always find meat home.” Adjutant Irion, as he passed out, asked Lieutenant Malone what the charge was against me. Malone replied that I was chargedwith being a Union man. The adjutant said, in a bitter and sarcastic tone, that I should never have been brought to Tupelo, but on my arrest should have been sent to hell from the lowest limb of the nearest tree.
Having determined to escape at all hazards, I sought out an accomplice, acompagnon de voyage; that person was Richard Malone; his piercing eye, his intellectual physiognomy, led me to believe that if he consented to make the attempt with me, our chances for escape would be good. I drew Malone to one side, and covertly introduced the matter. He soon got my idea, and drawing from his pocket a paper, showed me the route mapped out which he intended to pursue, as he had for some days determined to escape, or die in the attempt. He was charged with being a spy, and there was little doubt that they would establish his guilt by false testimony. We went out now under every possible pretext. We no longer shunned the guard who came to obtain prisoners to do servile labour. Our object being to reconnoitre, in order to learn where guards were stationed, andto determine the best method of escape through the town after leaving the prison. During the day we made these observations: that there were two guards stationed at the back door, who were very verdant; that they would, after relief, come on duty again at midnight; that there was a building on the south side of the prison, extending beyond the prison and beyond the guards; that the moon would set about eleven o’clock, P. M.; that there were no guards stationed on the south side of the prison during the day; that one of the planks in the floor could be easily removed; and that there were several holes, when we were once under the floor, by which egress might be made either on the north or south side; that the coast was probably clearest in the direction of a corn-field some two hundred yards distant in a northwest direction.
At four o’clock P. M., our plan was fully matured. At midnight, (the moon being down, and the verdant guards on duty) we would raise the plank, get under the floor, and myself in the advance, make our exit through one ofthe holes on the south side of the jail, then crawl to the building, some fifteen feet distant, and continue crawling till we passed the guards; then rise and make our way as cautiously as possible, to a point in the corn-field, a short distance in the rear of a garment which was hanging upon the fence. The one who first arrived must await the other. A signal was agreed upon, to prevent mistake. If the guards ordered us to halt, we had resolved to risk their fire, our watchword being, Liberty or death!
About this time the prisoners chose me their chaplain by acclamation. During the day, we made known our intention of escaping to several fellow-prisoners, who promised us all the assistance in their power. All the prisoners who knew of the matter, earnestly desired our escape, and co-operated with us in effecting it. Clarke and Robinson begged us to take them along, averring there was no doubt that they would be shot. Malone told them that no more than two could gotogether; that if they wished to escape, they could make the attempt half an hour after us, which they agreed to. Clarke, however, came to me, and desired me to take him along, as he would rather go with us than with Robinson. He had a wife and five small children dependent on him for support, and if he perished, they must perish too. I consulted Malone, but he would not agree to have Clarke go with us. Three would be too many for safety, and he doubted whether Clarke had sufficient nerve to face the glittering bayonet, or tact enough to pass through the camps without detection. He might commit some blunder which would endanger our safety. I informed Clarke that the arrangement made, in which he and Robinson were to go together, must be adhered to. He begged me, by all that was sacred, to take him along. But Malone was inexorable, and I thought it best to acquiesce in his judgment.
Night drew on apace. Thick darkness gathered around us, and murky clouds covered thesky, as we sat down with the Federal prisoners to our scanty allowance. While partaking of our rude fare, Malone thus spoke:
“This day is the 4th of July, 1862, the anniversary of our patriot fathers’ declaration of independence of British tyranny and oppression. They had much to complain of. They suffered grievous wrongs and cruel bondage. But eighty-six years ago to-day they declared themselves to be a free and independent people, who would rather die than be again enslaved. Of what worth was their declaration if they had remained inactive? Supineness would not have saved them. But trusting in our God, who gives success to the righteous cause, they imperilled their lives, they hazarded their fortunes, and with untiring energy and sleepless vigilance they contested to the bitter end against all efforts to deprive them of their inalienable rights. Success crowned their efforts, and they rid themselves of tyrants’ chains. We (I allude to my friend, Parson Aughey, and myself,) degenerate sons of these noble sires, have suffered wrong, nay, gross outrage.Citizens of the sunny South, guilty of no offence whatever, not even of constructive crime, we are immured in a loathsome dungeon, deprived of the comforts of life, separated from our families, and suffered to have no communication with them; dragging out a miserable existence, which an ignominious death on the scaffold must soon end. We, therefore, John H. Aughey and Richard Malone, in view of these accumulated wrongs and outrages, solemnly swear before High Heaven, and in presence of these witnesses, that we will be free, or perish in the attempt. Appealing to the God of liberty, of truth, and of righteousness, for the rectitude of our motives and the justness of our cause, we commit ourselves into his hands, and implore his protection amid the dangers through which we are about to pass, and humbly pray that he will give us success, and restore us speedily to our families and friends, and to the enjoyment of our inalienable rights, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
Grasping the Lieutenant by the hand, I consented to this Declaration of Independence ofrebel thraldom. We gave our respective addresses to our friends, who promised, that if they were ever liberated, and we were killed by the guards, they would write to our families, informing them of the manner of our death.
About ten o’clock, Malone raised the plank, and I went under to reconnoitre. I remained under the floor about ten minutes, having learned that there were no guards patroling the south side of the house, as we feared might be the case after night. We had learned, from observation, that there were none during the day. Just at the noon of night, we heard the relief called. Malone and I endeavoured to find the prisoners who were to raise the plank, but not being able readily to do so, we raised the plank ourselves, and both got under without difficulty. Malone getting under first, was, contrary to agreement, compelled to take the lead. As he was passing out, he made considerable noise. To warn him of the danger, I patted him on the back. Reaching back, he gave my hand a warm pressure, to assure methat all was right, and passed out. I followed, and reached the designated point in the corn-field in about half an hour, having to use the utmost precaution, and in some cases to pass the guards by crawling in a serpentine manner. When I arrived, I gave the preconcerted signal, but Malone was nowhere to be seen. I waited for him two hours at least, when I was compelled to seek my safety alone.
Not being able to meet with my friend, I regarded as a great misfortune, because, after reaching a point ten miles north of Tupelo, he would be familiar with the country. I had frequently passed through the town on the railroad, but knew nothing of the country through which I must travel. Somewhat depressed in spirits at the loss of mycompagnon de voyage, I resolved to reach my family by the safest and most practicable route. Still in the midst of camps, I had considerable difficulty in making my way out of them. When I thought that this had been effected, I found that day was brightening in the east. Looking around for some place to hide, I soon found a dense,though small thicket, in which I secreted myself as covertly as possible. Having slept but little since my arrest, I endeavoured to compose myself to slumber, and partially succeded; but soon the noise and confusion of soldiers passing and re-passing near, awoke and alarmed me. I soon learned that I was near a camp, and that the soldiers had found a suitable place for bathing in a creek which ran within thirty yards of my place of concealment. There were two paths by which they reached the creek. On one, they passed within fifteen feet of me; on the other, within six or seven. About nine o’clock, I heard the booming of cannon all around me, proceeding from the different camps. The soldiers who passed me stated, in their conversation, that the cannon were firing in honour of a great victory obtained over General McClellan, in Virginia. According to their statement, his whole army, after a succession of losses, during eight days’ fighting, had been completely annihilated, and that Stonewall Jackson would be in Washington city before the close of the week.
The day passed slowly away. At one time two soldiers came within a few feet of me in search of blackberries, but passed out without detecting me. At another time two soldiers sat down to converse, so near that their lowest tones were distinctly audible. One informed the other that he had been in town in the morning, and had learned that theClerical Spy, Parson Aughey, and a fellow by the name of Malone, had broke jail, but that they would soon be brought in, as a company of cavalry had been put on their track, with a pack of bloodhounds. Soon after this, one of them arose and struck a bush several times, which seemed to be but a very short distance above my head. I thought that he had discovered me, and was about to rise and run, when I heard him say to his companion, that he had attempted to kill a very large snake, which had escaped to the bushes. I began to feel somewhat uncomfortably situated when I learned that I was in close proximity to a large snake, though I would have preferred meeting with an anaconda, boa-constrictor, rattlesnake, or even the deadly cobradi capello, rather than with those vile secessionists thirsting for innocent blood.
I thought this 5th of July was the longest day I had ever known. The sun was so long in reaching the zenith, and so slow in passing down the steep ecliptic way to the occident. The twilight, too, seemed of endless duration. But as all long days have had an end, so had this. The stars came glittering one by one. I soon recognised that old staunch and immovable friend of all travellers on the underground railroad, the polar-star.
Rising from my lair, I was soon homeward bound, guided by the north-star and an oriental constellation. Plunging into a dense wood I found my rapid advance impeded by the undergrowth, and great difficulty in following my guiding stars, as the boughs of the great oaks rendered them invisible, or dimly seen. Fatigued, hungry, and sleepy, I at length lay down at the foot of a large swamp-oak tree, intending to take a nap, and then rise and pursue my journey. When I awoke the sun was just rising. I arose filled with regret for thetime I had lost. Though somewhat refreshed by my sound sleep, yet I was very hungry and almost famished with thirst.
After travelling about half a mile I came to a small log-house on a road-side. Feeling sick and faint, I resolved to go to the house to obtain water, and, if I liked the appearance of the inmates, to reveal my condition and ask for aid. Upon reaching the house I met the proprietor, but did not like his physiognomy. He looked the villain; a sinister expression, a countenance revealing no intellectuality, except a sort of low cunning, bore testimony that it would be foolish to repose confidence in the possessor of such villanous looks. I asked for water, intending to drink and leave. He pointed to the bucket; I drank and bade him good morning, and turned to leave. I had proceeded but a few steps, when I was ordered, in a stentorian tone, to halt. On looking round, I saw a soldier within a few steps, presenting a double-barrelled gun; another soldier was standing near, heavily armed. I asked bywhat authority he halted me. To which he replied:
“I know you, sir; I have heard you preach frequently. You are Parson Aughey, and you were arrested and confined in prison at Tupelo. I was in Lowrey’s regiment yesterday, and learned that you had broken jail; and now, sir, you must return. My name is Dan Barnes. You may have heard of me.”
I had indeed heard of him. He had been guilty of robbing the United States mail, had fled to Napoleon or Helena, Arkansas, where he was arrested, brought back, and incarcerated in jail at Pontotoc, and confined there for nearly a year. As the evidence against him was positive, he would have been sent to the penitentiary; but, fortunately for him, at this juncture Mississippi seceded. There being then no United States officers to execute the laws, he was liberated, and soon after joined the army.
After breakfast, which I paid for, Barnes called me to one side, and told me that he felt sorry for me, and would afford me an opportunityof escaping, if I would pay him a reasonable sum. He had been in a tight place himself, and would have been glad had some friend been near to aid him. He named two hundred and forty dollars as thereasonable sumfor permitting me to escape. After getting my money, their horses were saddled, and telling me he was playing-off on me, said I must go to General Jordan’s head-quarters at Priceville, to which place he and Huff, the proprietor of the log cabin, conducted me.
On my arrival, General Jordan ordered me to be put in irons, and placed under guard. I was taken to a blacksmith’s shop in the town, the General accompanying the guard, and heavy iron bands were put around my ankles, and connected by a chain. The bands were put on hot, and my boots were burnt in the operation. The blacksmith seemed averse to the order, and only obeyed it upon compulsion. The General stood by, and saw that it was well done. “Iron him securely—securely, sir,” was his oft repeated order. The ironing caused me muchpain. My ankles were long discoloured from the effects of it.