return from fortress monroe
by the second day after the incarceration of mr. davis and mr. clay we were a heartsick company, and i was glad when, in the late afternoon of the twenty-fourth of may, our sailing orders came. during the last day we were anchored off fortress monroe, two hundred paroled prisoners had been taken aboard the clyde, a small and stuffy boat at best, and the five days spent upon the return trip added to our anguish of mind by much physical discomfort. the sea was exceedingly rough. often during the voyage a hundred or more passengers at a time were confined below. those who were well found their cabins unendurably warm. in mine, the gossip of the negroes and sailors on the lower deck was clearly audible; and, as their themes ran principally upon the probable fate of the prisoners, questionable as i knew the source to be from which flowed the conversations, the gossip did not serve to lessen my melancholy, though it keyed my alertness to a higher pitch.
some hours previous to our departure from hampton roads, in sheer exhaustion from the experiences that had crowded upon us, i lay down in my cabin, a prey to mingled heart-aching and bitterness; when, looking toward the door, i perceived a sentinel on guard. what i took to be an added indignity made me resentful. i spoke to him.
“you are a brave man, standing there with bayonet in hand to terrorise a wretched woman!” i said. he 270turned slightly, “mrs. clay,” he answered, “you ought to be glad to have me here guarding you, for this boat is full of rough soldiers!” in a moment my wrath was turned to gratitude. i thanked him, and i felt that in him, thereafter, i had a friend; indeed, we had reason to feel that all aboard who dared to show it felt pity for and kindness toward our desolate party.
during the trip, as mrs. davis, miss howell and i sat at night on deck, looking out over the seas, i thought the swish of the waters against the clyde’s side was as melancholy a note as i had ever heard. one evening we had sat thus, discussing our situation and the dangers that surrounded us, when, rising to return to my stateroom, i felt my dress slightly pulled. thinking my skirts had become entangled in the rope coils or rigging near us, i reached out to detach them, when, to my alarm, i found my hand in contact with another, and into mine was thrust a bundle of newspapers. i could not have thanked the sailor who handed them to me had i had the presence of mind to do so, for, passing swiftly on his way, he was lost in the darkness ere i could identify him. the roll was in my hand, however, and i made my way quickly to the cabin with it. they were the first newspapers we had had since arriving at the fortress. by the light of the dim cabin lamp i read them. the aggregation of “opinions of the press” was so awful in its animosity that they stunned my very power of thought. one extract burnt itself into my brain. it ran, “we hope soon to see the bodies of these two arch traitors, davis and clay, dangling and blackening in the wind and rain!”
the horror of these printed words for the moment overbalanced my reason. i hastened with it to mrs. davis; a great mistake, for her agony of mind upon reading it was such that restoratives were necessary to prevent her from fainting. i never knew who the sailor 271was who gave the papers to me, though i was more fortunate in regard to the author of another kindness which, happily, was less reactionary upon me.
immediately upon my husband’s incarceration i had busied myself in writing letters to a list of distinguished public men which had been prepared for my use by mr. clay. it included the name of joseph holt, who, once our friend, had deplored the possible loss to the nation of my husband’s counsels. my list comprised thirteen names, the number that has been accounted unlucky since thirteen sat at the table of our lord and one betrayed him. in view of the months of persecution, which followed my husband’s surrender, directly traceable to malice or fanatical zeal in the judge advocate’s office, an analogy is unavoidable. my list included the names of t. w. pierce, of boston, ben. wood, owner and editor of the new york daily news, r. j. halderman, charles o’conor, the great jurist, judge jeremiah black and others. to mr. holt i wrote as follows:
“off fortress monroe on steamer clyde,
“may 23, 1865.
“judge advocate general holt.
“my dear sir: the circumstances of my husband’s voluntary surrender to the federal authorities, to meet the charges against him, doubtless have reached you, as general wilson, commanding at macon, promised to telegraph as well as write you immediately of it. we left macon on the 13th, in company with other prisoners, general wilson permitting me to accompany mr. clay without orders or restrictions. for five days we have lain at this spot awaiting events. yesterday morning, with five minutes’ warning only, my husband was taken to fortress monroe. as no communication is permitted, i am denied appeals to generals miles or halleck, but entertain strong hope that one or the other may arrive to-day to relieve my suspense.
“but the object of this letter is to appeal to you, in this moment of dire necessity, on behalf my dear husband. you, judge holt, now the embodiment of the ‘majesty of the 272law,’ were once pleased to subscribe yourself my ‘sincere friend.’ i will not believe that time or circumstances have changed your feelings toward one who reciprocated that friendship and was beloved by your angelic wife. so, into your hands, my dear sir, i commit my precious husband’s case, begging that you will see to it that he receives proper counsel and a fair and impartial trial, from which he will surely come forth vindicated. of course, you have some appearance of testimony in your courts or the proclamation would not have been issued, but i also believe that you esteem mr. clay as innocent of that horrid crime, as i know him to be. hold the scales of mercy and justice as our great and final judge will hold them in your and my cases when we stand at the bar, and i shall fear no evil. write me a line at macon, if you please, and, if possible, permit me to visit my husband. with kindest regards to ... believe me,
“etc.”
with the exception of the archbishop of bermuda, who was away from his post, as i learned some time later, only mr. holt, of the thirteen written to, ignored my appeal.
having taken the precaution to give to each correspondent an address at which, under cover, replies might reach me, i sealed and addressed each letter preparatory for posting; but now i found myself in a quandary as to how i should accomplish this important feat. i held them for several days uncertain as to whose care i might intrust them. as we were approaching hilton head, however, a soldier, whom i had observed passing and repassing the open door of my cabin, tossed in a slip of paper on which was written, “i will mail your letters. trust me.” as there was nothing treasonable in them, and the need was urgent for getting them swiftly to their several destinations, i concluded to accept the offer so miraculously made.
i therefore rolled them up, and, putting a gold dollar in a bit of paper, awaited the reappearance of my unknown messenger. in a few moments he came, and i slipped 273the little parcel into his hands. that afternoon i heard a careless whistler pass my door and the bit of gold was tossed into my stateroom, and with excellent aim, too, for it fell directly upon my berth. the friendly stranger had refused to retain sufficient coin to pay for the postage. before leaving the clyde i ascertained his name. he was charles mckim, of philadelphia.
such kindly aid unexpectedly extended to us by a stranger now and then had its own part in stimulating and encouraging us during a voyage in which a thousand hopes and fears and memories tortured us. the very coast-line, there in the distance, seemed to write on the horizon the story of our disasters. we passed on our way within one hundred yards of desolate, historic sumter, over which the union flag floated, and the solitary sentinel pacing his rounds was visible to us. beyond lay charleston, her outlines placid, though we knew she was scarred within.
our journey, as i have stated, was full of discomfort. our cabins were far from clean, and chamber service we had none save that performed by mrs. davis’s coloured servant, robert, who attended to our needs; and so soiled were the pillows that we were obliged to pin over them our white petticoats before retiring, these being our only protection against the nocturnal invaders that thronged in the bedding. it will be concluded, therefore, that, upon our arrival in savannah, we were a rather bedraggled and travel-stained party. our original supply of clothing for the trip had been small, and the service demanded of it thus far had been in exactly an inverse ratio. it required some courage, therefore, as well as ingenuity, to arrange our toilettes in such manner as would help us to a condition of outward composure. i, having no little ones to care for, was most abundantly provided, and was, therefore, enabled to contribute to my less fortunate companion, mrs. davis, my black silk 274talma, a loose garment of those days much used in travelling.
we heard at once, upon stepping ashore at savannah, that the federal authorities had prohibited our party the use of carriages, and the absence of friendly faces at the wharf told us that the date of our arrival had also been kept a secret. we were, therefore, obliged to begin our walk up the acclivity that led to the pulaski house without the moral support of a friendly presence. those of the young children who could toddle did so; but the infant, winnie, was carried by miss howell, robert following behind with such luggage as he could “tote.” we were a sad procession!
we had nearly reached the hotel, when a party of gentlemen, seeing us, stopped in the midst of a conversation and eyed us a second. among them were our friends, mr. frederick myers and mr. green. upon recognising our party, first one and then another of the group caught up the children and bore them on their shoulders into the pulaski house.
the news of our arrival spread over the city at once, and an impromptu levee was begun which lasted until late in the night. it was followed, the next day, by gifts of flowers and fruit, and, what was immediately needful, of clothing of every description. the people of savannah acted as by one great impulse of generosity, all eager to demonstrate their devotion to the prisoners now in the hands of the united states government, and to us, their representatives. we found in the city many of our former washington and richmond friends, among whom were ex-senator yulee, of florida, and general mercer. savannah was in a state of continual disquiet. the air rang with sounds of fifes and drums of federal soldiers, and bands of triumphant music were encountered in every direction. drills were constant and innumerable, and fully as unpleasant to our eyes as our conquerors 275could wish; but, to my southern mind, no sight was so sad, and none presented so awful a travesty on the supposed dignity of arms, as the man?uvres of a regiment of negroes in full dress!
however, i was in no mood to think resentfully upon these minor evils of our times; for, notwithstanding the kindnesses shown our party on every side, my apprehensions for my husband’s safety increased as the journals of each day gave out their horrors. the news that mr. davis, saddened, ill, strengthless, as we knew him to be, had been put in chains, startled us. not a soul in the south but was horrified at the wanton act, and none, i think, will ever forgive the deed though its authorship has remained unacknowledged to this day. the press, both north and south, was filled with alarming prognostications and with news of the gathering testimony which would fix the crime with which the ex-president and my husband were charged, upon them. items which i might not otherwise have seen were clipped from northern papers and sent to me by friends eager to acquaint me with news of every development which might warn or strengthen. from mysterious purlieus, witnesses were being brought forward on whose awful testimony were to be formulated, it was said, charges of heinous crime against the prisoners of state. what this testimony was to be, who was to give it, were mysteries to me. i tried in vain to communicate with mr. clay, and on the 8th of june, unable longer to endure the suspense, i wrote to general miles, imploring him to send me at least one line to assure me of mr. clay’s welfare; at the same time inclosing a second letter to judge advocate general holt.
to add to my distress of mind, the interest of the newspapers, being now concerned with the surratt and other trials, became silent for the time being on the cases of messrs. davis and clay, and, until the receipt of a letter from general miles, i was uncertain of my husband’s 276whereabouts, rumours having reached me of his having been transferred to fort warren. a letter received at this time from general james h. wilson records that he, too, was under this impression. waiting from day to day in the hope of ascertaining some definite information concerning mr. clay, and having established communication with friends in various quarters, i now began to shape my plans for a return to huntsville, meanwhile offering such consolations to my companions as was in my power. only the uncomprehending children of our party seemed happily free from the weight of trouble everywhere besetting us. i remember an amusing incident in connection with the little jeff., our manly protector, just previous to my leaving the hotel to accept the hospitality of friends. he had scarcely arrived, when he formed an attachment for a fine newfoundland dog, a regular attaché of the popular hostelry. while mrs. davis and i were entertaining some of savannah’s kind people, we heard jeff.’s voice shouting every now and then in uproarious good humour, “bully for jeff.! bully for jeff.!” at last i went out to reason with him. i found him successfully mounted on his canine acquaintance, a strong bridle in one hand, a switch in the other.
“you shouldn’t say ‘bully for jeff.,’” i remonstrated. “it isn’t nice. you must remember whose boy you are!” the little fellow looked nonplussed.
“well!” he said, ruefully, “mis’ clay, if a fellow don’t bully for hisself, who’s going to bully for him?” i gazed at him, puzzled. this was a waterloo for me. i answered, “well, bully for yourself! but don’t bully so loud,” and retreated to the parlour, leaving the little lad to cogitate on whether he or i was master of the situation.
i lingered in savannah, eagerly awaiting letters which i hoped would meet me there, until the middle of june, when i proceeded to macon, en route for huntsville, and i am amused now at the contrariety of the human memory, 277when, into the woof of the thoughts of those strenuous days, there is thrust a thread of comedy. just before leaving the hospitable coast city, i was the guest of mrs. levy, mother of the brilliant mrs. philip phillips, of washington, of mrs. pember, and of miss martha levy, one of the readiest wits i have ever known.
during the evening first referred to, many guests were introduced, among them some of savannah’s prominent hebrews. for an hour miss martha had been busy presenting her friends, both christian and jew, when, one after another, came mr. cohen, mr. salomon, dr. lazarus and dr. mordecai. at this remarkable procession my risibles proved triumphant. i glanced slyly at miss martha. her eyes shone with mischief as she presented dr. mordecai.
“and is haman here, too?” i asked.
