The Life of Jefferson Davis

by Frank H. Alfriend

The same observations are applicable as to supplies of food and clothing. The war was waged, by the North, on the policy of unsparing devastation. Mills were burnt, factories demolished, barns given to the flames, and the means of comfort and of living destroyed on system. What the South was able to save, she shared with her prisoners. We gave them such rations as we gave our own soldiers. Does any one suspect the Confederate Government of deliberately stinting its own soldiers? How, then, can it be pretended that it was “cruel and inhuman” to prisoners whom it fed as well? If we could not maintain them as well as we wished, it was through the success of those who wasted our subsistence, for the purpose of reducing us to that precise condition of inability. It is obviously monstrous to charge the fact, and to charge it as blame, upon us—to accuse the South of “cruelty and inhumanity.”[71]

But there is still another revelation to be added to the overwhelming evidence which demonstrates the murderous purpose of the Federal authorities, equally toward their own men and toward Confederate soldiers, by which they adroitly sought to cover the Confederate Government with accusing blood. A marked feature in the policy of the Lincoln cabinet was, at concerted intervals, to inflame the heart of the North by appeals to passion and resentment. The supreme excellence of the Federal administration, in this respect, was, indeed, its substitute for statesmanship. To conceal its own iniquitous course, with reference to the exchange of prisoners, the administration successfully sought to frenzy the Northern masses by the most ingenious misrepresentations of the condition of their men in the Southern prisons.

To this end the foul brood of pictorial falsifiers—the Harpers, Leslies, etc.—gave willing and effective aid. Men in the most horrible conditions of human suffering—ghastly skeletons, creatures demented from sheer misery—a set of wretched, raving, and dying creatures—were photographed, the pictures reduplicated to an unlimited extent, and scattered broadcast over the North, as evidence of the brutality practiced upon Federal prisoners in the South. In view of the well-known and designed influence of these appeals upon Northern sentiment, what must be the scorn of the civilized world for the perfidy which used the means which we here relate, to accomplish its iniquitous ends?

Immediately preceding the return of these prisoners, the Federal Agent applied for the delivery of the worst cases of sick Federal prisoners. Said he: “Even in cases where your surgeons think the men too ill to be moved, and not strong enough to survive the trip, if they express a desire to come, let them come.” At this time, it should be remembered, regular exchanges were intermitted. Commissioner Ould, consistently with his known humanity and the humane disposition of his Government, consented to send the worst cases of their prisoners, provided that they would not be accepted as representatives of the average condition of the Federal prisoners in the South, and used as a means to inflame Northern sentiment. This condition was sacredly pledged.

With this understanding, Commissioner Ould prepared a barge adapted specially to the purpose, and, with the aid of the Richmond Ambulance Committee, carefully and tenderly delivered the prisoners. The Federal vessel that received them sailed immediately to Annapolis, where, instead of receiving the tender treatment that their pitiable condition required, they were made a spectacle of for an obvious purpose. Photographic artists made portraits of them; a committee of Congress was sent to report upon their condition; in short, they had been obtained for a purpose; and, how well that purpose was subserved, the South, at least, well knows. These miserable wrecks of humanity, specially asked for, specially selected as the worst cases, were pointed to as representatives of the average state of Federal prisoners in the South, although the most sacred assurances had been given that they would be used for no such purpose.

History will be searched in vain for such an example of mingled wickedness, perfidy, and cruelty. Yet the faction that could practice such treachery and barbarity has dared to impeach the honor and humanity of the South. Through such means, it, of course, can easily be proven that the South “starved and tortured” thousands of Union prisoners. Nor can Stanton, Holt, and Conover have difficulty in proving that these cruelties were by direct order of President Davis.

Need we pursue this subject further? We have not adduced one-tenth of the evidence which completes the record of Southern justice and humanity, yet what candid mind will deny that this testimony is ample? The vindication of the South, too, is the assured defense of Jefferson Davis. Nay, more: the exceptional victim of Northern malice is known to his countrymen to have a special record of humanity which should have claimed a special consideration from the enemy. Upon no subject was President Davis more censured in the South than for what was termed his “ill-timed tenderness” for the enemy. Stung to madness by the devastations and cruelties attending the invasion of their country, the people often responded to the clamor of the newspapers for retaliation against the harsh measures of the enemy. Before the writer is a Richmond newspaper, of date during the war, in which the leading editorial begins with the assertion that “The chivalry and humanity of Mr. Jefferson Davis will inevitably ruin this Confederacy,” and the editor continues to reproach Mr. Davis for culpable leniency.

To the same alleged cause the Examiner was accustomed to attribute what it described as the “humiliating attitude of the Confederacy.” Said the Examiner: “The enemy have gone from one unmanly cruelty to another, encouraged by their impunity, till they are now, and have for some time, been inflicting on the people of this country the worst horrors of barbarous and uncivilized war.” Yet, in spite of all this, the Examiner alleged, that Mr. Davis, in his dealings with the enemy, was “as gentle as the sucking dove.” The same paper published a “bill of fare” provided for one of the prisons, and invoked the indignation of the country upon a policy which fed the prisoners of the enemy better than the soldiers of the Confederacy.

Never, indeed, did the ruler of an invaded people exhibit such forbearance in the face of so much provocation. When reminded of the relentless warfare of the enemy, which spared neither age, sex, nor condition, of his devastation, rapine and violence, Davis’ invariable reply was: “The crimes of our enemies can not justify us in a disregard of the duties of humanity and Christianity.” There can be little doubt that Mr. Davis occasionally erred in his extreme generosity to the foe. Yet, how noble must be that fame, which is marred only by such a fault. History has canonized Lamartine for preventing the re-raising of the red flag in 1848. What will be its award to the heroic firmness of Jefferson Davis, in preventing the raising of the black flag, among a people, whose dearest rights were assailed, whose homes were destroyed, and themselves subjected to the most ruthless persecutions known in modern warfare?

But apart from the perjured testimony, which has been utterly inadequate to establish the charge of “cruelty to prisoners,” has the time passed, when the honorable character of a people and of an individual can be properly considered? The whole history of the United States does not exhibit a public career more stainless than that of Jefferson Davis, while in the service of the Union. Occupying almost every position of honor and trust, in both houses of Congress, member of the cabinet, and as a gallant soldier, the breath of slander never once tarnished his name. To his incorruptible official and private integrity, to the sincerity of his convictions, and the rectitude and honesty of his intentions, no men could better testify than those Republican Senators, who were, for years, his associates. Indeed, Mr. Davis has been peculiar in his complete exemption from that personal defamation, which is almost a necessity of political life.