It will be seen that the Confederate authorities, by this proposition, consented to waive all previous questions, to concede every point to the enemy, that could facilitate the release from captivity of its own soldiers and those of the North. As an inducement to action by the Federal authorities, this letter was accompanied by a statement exhibiting the mortality among the prisoners at Andersonville. Receiving no reply, Commissioner Ould made the same proposition to General Hitchcock, in Washington. The latter making no response, application was made again to Major Mulford, who replied as follows:
“Hon. R. Ould, Agent of Exchange—
“Sir: I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your favor of to-day, requesting answer, etc., to your communication of the 10th inst., on the question of the exchange of prisoners, to which, in reply, I would say, I have no communication on the subject from our authorities, nor am I yet authorized to make any.
“I am, sir, very respectfully, your obedient servant,
“JOHN E. MULFORD,
“Assistant Agent of Exchange.”
Nothing could exceed the generosity of this offer. When it was made, the North had a large excess of prisoners. By this arrangement every Federal soldier would have been released from captivity, while a large surplus of Confederates would have remained in the enemy’s hands. The brutal calculation of the Federal authorities was that an exchange would add so many thousands of muskets to the depleted ranks of the Confederacy, and would, besides, deprive them of every pretext for the manufacture of chapters of “rebel barbarities.”
It was known to the world that the means of subsistence in the South was so reduced—chiefly through the cruel warfare waged by the North—that Confederate soldiers were then subsisting upon a third of a pound of meat, and a pound of indifferent meal or flour each day. Upon such rations, half naked, thousands of them barefooted, Confederate soldiers were exposed to sufferings unexampled in history. How could it be possible, under such circumstances, to prevent suffering among the prisoners? Military prisons, under the most favorable circumstances, are miserable enough, but the Federal prisoners in the South were compelled to endure multiplied and aggravated miseries, imposed by the condition of the South—shared by their captors, and by the women and children of the country which they invaded. But what possible palliation can there be for the guilt of a Government which willfully subjected its defenders to horrors which it so blazoned to the world? Declaring that “rebel pens” were worse than Neapolitan prisons and Austrian dungeons, the Federal authorities yet persistently rejected offers of exchange.
There could be no more forcible presentation of the question than that made by President Davis:
“In the meantime a systematic and concerted effort has been made to quiet the complaints in the United States of those relatives and friends of the prisoners in our hands, who are unable to understand why the cartel is not executed in their favor, by the groundless assertion that we are the parties who refuse compliance. Attempts are also made to shield themselves from the execration excited by their own odious treatment of our officers and soldiers now captive in their hands, by misstatements, such as that the prisoners held by us are deprived of food. To this last accusation the conclusive answer has been made, that, in accordance with our laws and the general orders of the department, the rations of the prisoners are precisely the same, in quantity and quality, as those served out to our own gallant soldiers in the field, and which have been found sufficient to support them in their arduous campaign, while it is not pretended by the enemy that they treat prisoners by the same generous rule. By an indulgence, perhaps unprecedented, we have even allowed the prisoners in our hands to be supplied by their friends at home with comforts not enjoyed by the men who captured them in battle, In contrast to this treatment, the most revolting inhumanity has characterized the conduct of the United States towards prisoners held by them. One prominent fact, which admits no denial nor palliation, must suffice as a test: The officers of our army—natives of southern and semi-tropical climates, and unprepared for the cold of a northern winter—have been conveyed for imprisonment, during the rigors of the present season, to the most northern and exposed situation that could be selected by the enemy. There, beyond the reach of comforts, and often even of news from home and family, exposed to the piercing cold of the northern lakes, they are held by men who can not be ignorant of—even if they do not design—the probable result. How many of our unfortunate friends and comrades, who have passed unscathed through numerous battles, will perish on Johnston’s Island, under the cruel trial to which they are subjected, none but the Omniscient can foretell. That they will endure this barbarous treatment with the same stern fortitude that they have ever evinced in their country’s service, we can not doubt. But who can be found to believe the assertion that it is our refusal to execute the cartel, and not the malignity of the foe, which has caused the infliction of such intolerable cruelty on our own loved and honored defenders?”
Since the war, Commissioner Ould has given testimony of the most conclusive character. While the subject of the treatment of prisoners was pending in Congress, during the past summer, he wrote the following letter. It will be observed that he offers to prove his statements by the testimony of Federal officers.