“Mr. Jefferson Davis is, of course, the first victim demanded by those who demand State prosecutions. His will be the test case.... I have volunteered my professional services in his defense, and although I have hitherto been refused permission to see him, and his letter in reply to my offer has been intercepted and returned to him as an improper communication, I am persuaded that, if a trial shall take place, I will be one of his defenders. In performing this duty, you may fairly consider me as in compliance with your request, defending your husband.... I sympathise most sincerely with yourself and your husband in this cruel ordeal, and shall be most happy if my efforts shall have any influence in mitigating its severity or in shortening its duration.
“I am, my dear Madam, with great respect and esteem,
“Yours truly,
“Charles O’Conor.”
This epistle, coming from so wise a man, was calculated to calm us; one from Mr. Haldeman inspired us equally to courage.
“Harrisburg, July 24, 1865.
“Mrs. C. C. Clay.
“My Dear Madam: Your exceedingly affecting letter did not reach me until long after it was written.... So soon as it was practicable, I visited Honourable Thaddeus Stevens at his home in Lancaster City. I selected Mr. Stevens more particularly on account of his independence of character, his courage, and his position of intellectual and official leadership in the lower house of Congress, and in his party. It is not necessary for me to tell you, Madam, that, knowing your husband, I never had a suspicion of his complicity in the assassination of Mr. Lincoln, but you will be gratified to learn that Mr. Stevens scorned the idea of either his guilt or that of any of the prominent sojourners in Canada.[[49]]
“Mr. Stevens holds, that as the belligerent character of the Southern States was recognised by the United States, neither Mr. Davis nor Mr. Clay can be tried for treason.... That, if tried, Mr. Clay should be tried in Alabama. You will perceive, then, my dear Madam, that connected with the proposed trial of your husband, there are profound questions of statesmanship and party. On this account, Mr. S. would not like to have his name prematurely mentioned. He is using his great political influence in the direction indicated, and it is, of course, much greater when he is not known as the counsel of Mr. Clay.... I promised to see Mr. Stevens so soon as the form and place of trial are announced.... Mr. Stevens will be a tower of strength, and command attention and respect from President, Secretary and Congress....
“Hoping, Madam, that when I address you again, it will be under happier auspices, I am,
“R. J. Haldeman.”
Nor were these all. Ex-Attorney-General Black wrote me early in July these brief but kind words of sympathy:
“I hasten to assure you that I will do all that in me lies to secure justice in Mr. Clay’s case. I have written to the President, Secretary of War, and Mr. Davis. You may safely rely upon me to the extent of my ability to do you good!”
Letters as positive and cordial came also from Messrs. George Shea and J. M. Carlisle. I had written meanwhile to Mr. Clay in prison, hoping thereby to give him courage; to the Secretary of War, beseeching for kindness to his self-surrendered and delicate prisoner; to General Miles, begging him to keep his promise and tell me of Mr. Clay’s condition. It was three months ere I heard from my husband. The Secretary of War ignored my letter, and three weeks passed ere the general in command at Fortress Monroe made reply. His letter was judicially kind. It saved me, at least, from apprehension lest Mr. Clay, too, should be submitted to the horrible indignity which had been put upon Mr. Davis, the news of which was still agitating the country. General Miles’s letter was as follows:
“Headquarters Military District of Fort Monroe.
Fort Monroe, Virginia, June 20, 1865.
“Dear Madam: Your letter of the 8th inst.[[50]] is at hand. In answer, I am happy to say to you, your husband is well in health and as comfortable as it is possible to make him under my orders. He has not at any time been in irons. His fare is good. (I think Mr. Davis’s health better than when he left the Clyde.) He has pipe and tobacco. The officers in charge are changed every day. Your husband was pleased to hear you were well. Wished me to say that he was well and comfortable and under the circumstances quite cheerful. Has every confidence that he will be able to vindicate himself of the charge. He sends much love, and hopes you will not make your[self] uneasy or worry on his account, as his only concern is about you. Your letter was sent to Judge Holt.
“Your husband has not been allowed any books except his Bible and prayer-book, although I have requested provision to allow him one other, but have received no answer as yet. You may be assured that while your husband is within the limits of my command he will not suffer. Hoping this will find you well, I remain
“Very respectfully,
“Nelson A. Miles,
“Brevet Major-General United States Volunteers.”
On the face of it this communication was kind. But, to offset its statements as to my husband’s comfort, rumours quite the reverse reached us from many reliable sources. How well these were founded, how grievously the life in prison told upon my husband’s spirit, may be adjudged from the following excerpts from a running letter from Mr. Clay which reached me late in the autumn. It was designed for my eyes alone, in the event of some sudden termination of his present awful experiences. In part it was a solemn charge and farewell to me, and this portion was guarded; for Mr. Clay had supposed he must commit the letter, at last, to the care of General Miles for transmittance to me. In part, it is evident hope was reviving him; by this time permission had been given to him to write to me through the War Department; also, he perceived the way opening for a private delivery of the letter, and therefore, at the last, he spoke more unreservedly.
“Casemate No. 4, Fortress Monroe, Virginia.
“Friday, August 11, 1865.
“My Dearly Beloved Wife: After repeated requests, I am permitted to address you this communication, which is only to be delivered to you by General Miles in case of my death before we meet on earth.... This letter is written in contemplation of death; for, although trusting through God’s goodness and mercy to see you again on this earth, yet, as my health is much impaired and I am greatly reduced in flesh and strength, and never allowed a night’s unbroken rest, I feel I am in greater peril of my life than is usual. Under the solemn reflection that I may not see you again before I am called hence to meet my Judge, I shall try to write nothing that I would erase at that day when I must give an account of the deeds done in the flesh. God bears me witness that I am unconscious of having committed any crime against the United States or any of them, or any citizen thereof, and that I feel and believe that I have done my duty as a servant of the State of Alabama, to whom alone I owed allegiance, both before and since she seceded from the Federal Union. I have not changed my opinion as to the sovereignty of the States and the right of a State to secede; and I am more confirmed by my reflections and our bitter experience that the Northern people were so hostile to the rights, interests and institutions of the Southern States, that it was just and proper for these to seek peace and security in a separate government. I think the utter subversion of our political and social systems and sudden enfranchisement of four million slaves a great crime, and one of the most terrible calamities that ever befell any people; that generations yet unborn will feel it in sorrow and suffering; and that nothing but intense hatred and vindictive rage could have so blinded the North to its own interests and [to] those of humanity, as to induce the consummation of this act of wickedness and folly. I look for nothing but evil to both blacks and whites in the South from this sudden and violent change in their relations; intestine feuds and tumults; torpid indolence and stealthy rapacity on the part of the blacks; jealousy, distrust and oppression of them on the part of the whites; mutual outrage and injury, disquiet, apprehensions, alarms, murders, robberies, house-burnings, and other crimes; the blighting of hearts and homes and the destruction of industry, arts, literature, wealth, comfort and happiness. No people, save the Jews, have ever been more oppressed and afflicted than those of the South, [and] especially the blacks, will be, in my opinion. Their professed deliverers will prove the real destroyers of the negroes in the end.
“Had I foreseen this, I should doubtless have been in favour of enduring lesser evils and wrongs from the North and postponing this calamity, for it would have come sooner or later, but, perhaps, not in our day. I never doubted ... that our interest would be best served by preserving the old Union, under which I might have enjoyed wealth and honour all my life. I felt that I was acting against my own interest in favouring Secession, but thought it my duty to my State and the South. Hence, I have nothing to reproach myself for as to my course in that respect. I only regret that we did not defer the evil day or prepare longer, better maintaining our independence. I still think we might and would have maintained it, with more wisdom in council and in the field, and with more virtue among our people. I feel it due to my character, to my family and friends, to say this much on public affairs....
“Now in regard to your own course and that of my kindred, I would advise you, if able, to remove from the South; but, impoverished as you all are, or soon will be, it is improbable that you can do so. Hence, you had best make your home in some city or large town, where the white population prevails. I think populous negro districts will be unsafe. You will be obliged to cast off our former slaves, if they should desire to live with you, for you have no means of supporting or of employing them.... Do what you can for the comfort of my parents.... Try to exercise charity to all mankind, forgiving injuries, cherishing hatred to none, and doing good even to enemies.... This is true wisdom, even if there was no life beyond the grave, because the best way of securing peace of mind and of promoting mere worldly interests. But when I remember that Christ commands it and enforced it by His example, and promised, ‘if you keep my commandments, you shall abide in my love,’ the inestimable great reward should stimulate us to the performance of the duty.... Nothing has convinced me of the divinity of Christ so much as His superhuman morality and virtue....
“Saturday, August 12, 1865.
“... I hope and sometimes think that my confinement here is to end in good to me. I have tried and am still trying to turn it to my incalculable profit. I have searched my own heart, and reviewed my life more earnestly, prayerfully, and anxiously than in all my days before coming in here. I have read The Book through twice; much of it more than twice....
“You will see from my Bible and prayer-books that I have been assiduous and earnest in their study. I confess that this has been from necessity rather than choice. I have never been allowed to see any word in print or manuscript outside of them, until 3d inst., when a copy of the New York Herald was brought me, and I was informed that I was [to be] allowed to see such newspapers as General Miles would daily send me.
“September 10, 1865.
“I dropped my pen in the delusive hope that I was to be allowed to see you soon, or at all events to correspond freely with you, and that in the meantime I would be allowed a reasonable hope of living, by granting me opportunity to sleep. For I must now tell you what I have heretofore thought I would conceal till my liberation or death, that I have endured the most ingenious and refined torture ever since I came into this living tomb; for, although above the natural face of the earth, it is covered with about ten feet of earth, and is always more or less damp like a tomb. With a bright light in my room and the adjoining room, united to it by two doorways, closed by iron gates, which cover about half the space or width of the partition, and with two soldiers in this room, and two and a lieutenant in the adjoining, until about 30th June; with the opening and shutting of those heavy iron doors or gates, the soldiers being relieved every two hours; with the tramp of these heavy, armed men, walking their beats, the rattling of their arms, and still more the trailing sabre of the lieutenant, the officer of the guard, whose duty is to look at me every fifteen minutes, you may be sure that my sleep has been often disturbed and broken. In truth, I have experienced one of the tortures of the Spanish Inquisition in this frequent, periodical and irregular disturbance of my sleep. During the one hundred and twelve days of my imprisonment here I have never enjoyed one night’s unbroken sleep; I have been roused every two hours, if asleep, by the tread of soldiers, the clank of arms and the voices of officers.... I have never known the feeling of refreshment from sleep on arising any morning of my imprisonment. Besides, I have never been allowed retirement from sight, actual or potential, of my guards; having to bathe and do all the acts of nature in view of the guard, if they chose to look at me. I have never been allowed an interview with any one alone, not even with a minister of God, but have always been confronted with two or more witnesses, whenever minister or physician come to see me. I have never been allowed any clothes save those in present use.... Where my other clothes are I do not know, as several of those who were represented as masters of my wardrobe denied the trust. I have found out that some things I valued have been stolen, together with all the little money I kept. I think it probable that you will never see half of the contents of my valise and despatch bag. The inclosed letters[[51]] present but a glimpse of my tortures, for I knew that the grand inquisitors, the President and Cabinet, knew all that I could tell and even more; and, besides, my debility of body and of mind was such that I had not power to coin my thoughts into words.... And to be frank, I was too proud to confess to them all my sufferings, and also apprehended that they would rather rejoice over and aggravate than relent and alleviate them. I now feel ashamed that I have complained to them instead of enduring unto death. My love for you, my parents and brothers, prevailed over my self-love, and extracted from me those humiliating letters. I have been reluctant to humble myself to men whom I regarded as criminals far more than myself, touching all the woes and wrongs, the destruction and desolation of the South.
“If you ever get my [Jay’s] prayer-book, you will see scratched with a pencil, borrowed for the occasion, such items in my monotonous prison life as I felt worth recording.
“October 16th.
“On the 19th of August I wrote my second letter to the Secretary of War, and was then in hopes of removal of the guard from the adjoining room in a day or two. Besides, I was so enfeebled and my nerves so shattered by loss of sleep that I could scarcely write. Hence I quit this painful labour of love. The guard was not removed till the 12th of September, and then because my condition, from loss of sleep, was become really very critical. Since then I have improved very much in health and have slept as well as I ever did. But I have been deluded with the hope of my enlargement on parole, and thought I would not dwell on so painful a theme. I now learn that I am to be moved to-day to Carroll Hall, where Mr. D—— is.... Hence I avail myself of a chance to send you these sheets lest they should never reach you if I die in prison. I must impress on you the propriety of concealing this communication while I live and never alluding to it, for, if found out, I should suffer for it.... I dare say I should be turned out on parole but for the charge against me of concerting Lincoln’s murder. They are loth to confess the charge to be false, which they would do by releasing me. I am made to suffer to save them from the reproach of injustice. I should be willing to brave them out by stubborn endurance and refusal of anything but legal justice. I should not fear that. But I am never to be tried for murder, nor, I think, for treason. They know there is no pretext for charging me with murder, and they doubt their ability to convict me of treason before a jury of Southern men, and such only could legally try me....
“Now excuse any incoherence or want of method and the bad writing, as it is all done under great disadvantages, which I may explain hereafter. You can write to me under cover to Captain R. W. Bickley, Third Pennsylvania Artillery, Fortress Monroe, Virginia. He will be here till 10th of November, and then go out of service. After that I’ll find some one else through whom you can write to me. He is from Philadelphia. He, Captain J. B. Tetlow, Philadelphia, Captain McEwan, Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, and Dr. John J. Craven[[52]] of this place, have been very kind to me; also Lieutenant Lemuel Shipman, Sunbury, Pennsylvania. The last made me a wooden knife to eat with during the time I was denied knife and fork and spoon, which was till thirtieth of June.
“They would, too, shake hands (which was forbidden) and treat me as an equal when they could do so unobserved. Take care you don’t allude to this letter in yours through War Department.... —— —— has no sensibility or refinement, and hence Mr. Davis and I have suffered more than we should have done. Mr. Davis was ironed without cause, and only grew violent when they offered to iron him. I know this from one who was present. Facts are, General M—— was authorised to iron us if necessary for safety, and deemed it necessary with Mr. D——, or mistook the authority as an order to do it. But Mr. Davis is petulant, irascible, and offensive in manner to officers, as they tell me, though they say he is able, learned, high-toned, and imposing in manner.”
Before this heartrending letter reached me, however, another, couched purposely in terms more guarded (as befitted matter which must run the gauntlet of Secretary Stanton’s, the Attorney-General’s and General Miles’s scrutiny), had reached me. In my endeavours to comfort our enfeebled parents, I had already discussed with them the advisability of making my way to Washington, and in the first letter from me that reached my husband’s hands I spoke of my hope of doing so. Unknown to me, Mr. Clay, so early as June 30th, had written an urgent appeal to Secretary Stanton that I might be allowed to see or communicate with him. To this he had received no reply. Upon learning, therefore, of my intention through my letter, his first impulse was to dissuade me.