Prison Life in Andersonville Part 7

"How fitting that the magic touch of woman should consecrate this prison pen and make it a prison park! Only patient, persistent effort has made the change possible; for the soil is unresponsive, and tangled vines and underbrush had run riot for many years. But on this visit we found the grounds suitably enclosed, the Bermuda gra.s.s taking root, the moats and creek cleared of the vines and the conopy erected over that wonderful Providence Spring. The house erected for the caretaker much exceeded my expectations for comfort and convenience. Honeysuckles and roses clambered over the porch, and the rose garden, planned by Mrs. Turner, gave promise of beauty and fragrance where formerly had been barrenness and foul odors.

On these grounds Ohio has raised a beautiful granite shaft, Ma.s.sachusetts has placed a substantial monument near by, Rhode Island has honored her dead in bronze and stone, and last Memorial Day the Governor of Michigan came with friends to dedicate with appropriate ceremonies a monument to the brave sons of that State. Wisconsin has selected a site near the spot where some of her men encamped; and other States are planning to erect monuments, but wish first to be a.s.sured that the park will have permanent care."

PLANTING THE FLAG AT ANDERSONVILLE.

BY MRS. ANNIE WITTENMYER.

We lift up the banner of freedom today, And let the world know that due honor we pay To liberty's martyrs, who starved for the right, And crown them with heroes who fell in the fight.

Their chalice of woe was filled up to the brim; They drank to the dregs with high courage and vim, Nor faltered, nor wavered, but loyal and true, Stood firm by their colors, the red, white and blue.

The earth was their pillow, their covering the sky; And thousands lay down on the bare ground to die; No artist can paint, no pen tell the story Of all they endured for love of "Old Glory."

The Lord, in compa.s.sion, took note of their grief, And came, in His majesty, to their relief; He rode on the wind, where swift lightnings played, And hallowed the ground where the prisoners laid.

They panted with thirst, ere the Presence pa.s.sed by, But flashes of glory lit up the dark sky; A thunderbolt fell, with omnipotent ring, And opened the fountain of Providence Spring.

And peace came at last. Ah! for thousands too late; We mourn, as a people, their pitiful fate, And hold the ground sacred, our care and our pride, And plant the flag over the place where they died.

But the Nation is saved! They died not in vain; Our people are all reunited again.

From ocean to ocean--the lakes to the sea-- One country, one people, one flag of the free!

APPENDIX D.

A MEMORIAL DAY MEDITATION.

By Rev. H. H. Proctor, D.D., of Atlanta, Ga., in The Congregationalist of May 2, 1905.

"The thirtieth of May is sacred to the nation. With its return the heart of the country instinctively turns to those eighty-three national cemeteries, mostly on Southern soil, where in 194,492 known and 151,710 unknown graves lie 346,202 men who fell fighting for the flag. And in all the land, fittingly enough, there are no spots more beautiful than these.

For their care and improvement the national government spends $100,000 a year.

The cemetery at Andersonville, Ga., gains additional interest in view of the famous prison connected with it. Of these I wish to speak. No one can spend a day there, as I did lately, without drinking deep of the patriotic spirit. The very ground on which you stand seems holy, when you think how brave men suffered and died there. The very air seems charged with their spirit still.

Some disappointment is felt when over one hundred miles south of Atlanta you get off at a little station, with a few straggling houses here and there. But in the distance, a mile away, the national flag waving invitingly bids rea.s.surance. At length you stand at the entrance of the cemetery, entering through the strong iron gates of the thick ivy-covered brick wall, 12,782 known and 923 unknown men are buried within.

Many things at once interest you. Walks lead to every part of the grounds.

Trees, shrubbery and flowers enhance the natural beauty of the place.

Feathered songers of the South chant daily requiems. Each grave is marked by a white marble headstone, on which is generally carved the number, rank, name and state of the dead soldier. Here and there we read the sad inscription, "Unknown." The white stones contrasting with the fine greensward under the soft Southern sky make an impressive scene. This is especially true in that part of the grounds where stands the splendid monument of New Jersey, as shown by the accompanying ill.u.s.tration.

In a convenient place there is located an octagonal rostrum, where every Memorial Day gathers a large concourse of people to pay homage to the sacred dead. After the exercises the most impressive act of all follows.

Each grave, officers or private, white or black, known or unknown, is decorated with a miniature flag. And what a transformation! Instead of the monotonous rows of bare white stone a field of flags, by the magic of loving remembrance, appears!

But as impressive as is this cemetery, more impressive still to me was the prison. It is only a few rods away. Its notoriety is universal. Blaine, in his memorable speech in Congress, immortalized its more than Siberian horrors.

Some of the posts of the old stockade fence, survivors of that dread prison will be interested to know, still stand. There, within a s.p.a.ce of thirteen acres, 52,345 men, the very flower of the Republic, were kept in a pen. For thirteen months they were exposed in that rude stockade to the heat in summer and the cold in winter, to blistering sun and chilling blasts. From cruelty and exposure, hunger and thirst, disease and dirt, they died like sheep. Every fourth man died!

The story of "Providence Spring" is universally familiar. It proves that G.o.d is yet with men as of old. The water supply for these thousands in that small s.p.a.ce consisted of but one little brook which of course soon became unspeakably foul. In their thirst they cried unto G.o.d for water. He who hears the cry of the raven could not be dumb to the prayer of the suffering soldier. It was night. Soon the sky was overcast with clouds, the lightnings flashed, the thunders rolled, and a great rain came that night. Next morning a fountain of living water sparkled in G.o.d's sunshine near where the devout soldier had knelt in prayer the night before.

In recognition of G.o.d's providential gift they christened it "Providence Spring." Today a pavilion of stone, erected by the Woman's National Relief Corps, commemorates the spot. Two significant utterances are carved on marble tablets in the pavilion. On one we read these words: "The prisoner's cry of thirst rang up to heaven. G.o.d heard and with his thunders cleft the earth, and poured forth his sweetest waters gushing here." Over the fountain, which has never ceased from that day to this, carved in Georgia marble are the great words of that great man in whose big soul the nation was born again: "With charity to all and malice toward none."

As I stood by this spot and looked up on the hill I felt a new love of country stir within my heart. I could but say in my heart I would rather be a plain American citizen, though black, than a knighted Roman under Caesar.

As we think of that prison we are thankful for the cemetery. The prison typifies suffering. The cemetery is the symbol of peace. Through that gateway of suffering our martyrs entered into peace. How typical of the nation! Through the crucible of suffering it entered into peace."

[Ill.u.s.tration: FLAG DAY: ANDERSONVILLE CEMETERY]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE MICHIGAN MONUMENT IN ANDERSONVILLE CEMETERY]

APPENDIX E.

SHALL THE GOVERNMENT CONFER PERMANENT HONORS ON CONFEDERATE HEROES?

The magnanimity which dictated the terms of surrender at Appomattox was typical of the treatment extended by the Government of the United States to its defeated opponents. Well might this be so. The sinews of strength of the mighty North had through the four years of desperate conflict grown strong indeed.

A Confederate Major General declared that the veterans of General Sherman's army, pushing their winter way through the swamps and rivers of the South; foraging widely for subsistance and always ready to fight, ill.u.s.trated a type of soldier that the world had not seen since the days of Julius Caesar.

The final parade of the Union army along Pennsylvania avenue before the President, the Cabinet, prominent Generals and notables of other nations, displayed a vast procession of seasoned veterans whose effectiveness had never been surpa.s.sed. They were the choice, steel-tempered residue of more than two millions of citizen soldiery who had enlisted to preserve the union of States, "one and inseparable," against the folly of secession.

In the plent.i.tude of their invincible strength, nursing no l.u.s.t of power, they disbanded to peaceful homes from whence they came; subsiding from their regnant military life as the mighty storm-waves of the ocean sink away into pacific calm.

Apart from wide-spread personal bereavement the North bore no serious scars of war. The perfection of agricultural machinery enabled rich harvests to be gathered in season notwithstanding the dearth of farm help which had gone to the army. Factories of every kind were, with large profits, turning out abundantly all sorts of goods. Our commerce with the world was unhindered, save by the eccentric raids of the Alabama; the muscle and brawn of an ample labor immigration supplied the manual force necessary to national expansion; as ill.u.s.trated in the building of the trans-continental railroads. The huge war debt instead of being felt as an incubus was but a process of turning into ready cash the prosperity of the future.

Contrast with this picture the condition of the Southern States at the close of the four dreadful years. Within a goodly portion of her borders the country was war-swept and harried by the consuming necessities of vast armies of both friend and foe; for hungry men and beasts on the march and in the fight must subsist largely upon the supplies which the foragers gather from the adjacent regions.

Manufacture, as compared with the North, was a neglected art south of Mason's and Dixon's line.

The most extensive and effective naval blockade of history hermetically sealed nearly every Southern port, thereby hopelessly shutting in untold wealth of cotton, the returns of which were otherwise available to every need.

No millions of stalwart immigrants reinforced Southern industry; on the contrary her labor system and property tenure in human beings were shattered in pieces.

The flower of her masculine youth perished; the prestige of ruling intelligence, culture and wealth was dethroned and, to crown her afflictions although she knew it not, the South lost her best and most powerful friend in the a.s.sa.s.sination of Abraham Lincoln.

Then followed the agonies of political reconstruction and the ign.o.ble invasion of carpet-bag adventurers who, in many instances, were valiant only for pelf.

Surviving this wide-spread chaos the South, for the most part, believed in their lawful right of withdrawing from the Union. By many of their leading minds this contention had been long held, and that conception of government doubtless had filtered down through all cla.s.ses of society so far as thought was developed on the subject.

The defense of State rights probably was a more powerful incentive to civil war than was at first the purpose to defend slavery.

The bravery of Southern soldiers has never been surpa.s.sed. The self-sacrificing patriotism of Southern women reached the high-water mark.