The Secret Service the Field the Dungeon and the Escape by Albert D Richardson

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Title: The Secret Service.
The Field, The Dungeon, and The Escape

Author: Albert D. Richardson

Release Date: February 10, 2014 [EBook #44865]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

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Albert D. Richardson

Photo by Brady.

Engd by Geo E Perine N.Y.

ALBERT D. RICHARDSON

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[Pg 1]

THE

SECRET SERVICE,

THE FIELD, THE DUNGEON,

AND

THE ESCAPE.

"Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents, by flood and field;
Of hairbreadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence."

Othello.

BY

ALBERT D. RICHARDSON,

TRIBUNE CORRESPONDENT.

Hartford, Conn.,

AMERICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY.

JONES BROS. & CO., PHILADELPHIA, PA., AND CINCINNATI, OHIO.

R. C. TREAT, CHICAGO, ILL.

1865.

Entered according to an Act of Congress, in the year 1865,

Albert D. Richardson,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the District

of Connecticut.

TO

Her Memory

WHO WAS NEAREST AND DEAREST,

WHOSE LIFE WAS FULL OF BEAUTY AND OF PROMISE,

THIS VOLUME

IS TENDERLY INSCRIBED.

List of Illustrations.

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[Pg 3]

[Pg 4]

[Pg 5]

Facing Title-page.

Facing page 17

I.—Portrait of the Author

II.— A Group of Army Correspondents: Portraits of Messrs.
Charles C. Coffin, Boston Journal;
Junius H. Browne, New York Tribune;
Thomas W. Knox, New York Herald;
Richard T. Colburn, New York World;
L. L. Crounse, New York Times;

CONTENTS.

Opposite page 83

Opposite page 281

page 321

Opposite page 343

Opposite page 415

Opposite page 419

Opposite page 441

Opposite page 471

Opposite page 489

Opposite page 501

Opposite page 512

William E. Davis, Cincinnati Gazette, and
William D. Bickham, Cincinnati Commercial

III.—The Mississippi Convention viewed by a Tribune
Correspondent

IV.—Opening of the Ba�le of Antietam.—General Hooker

V.—Facsimile of an Autograph Le�er of President Lincoln

VI.—The Capture, while running the Rebel Ba�eries at Vicksburg

VII.—Interior View of a Hospital in the Salisbury Prison

VIII.—The Massacre of Union Prisoners a�empting to Escape
from Salisbury, North Carolina

IX.—Escaping Prisoners fed by Negroes in their Master's Barn

X.—Fording a Stream

XI.—Dan Ellis

XII.—"The Nameless Heroine" piloting the Escaping Prisoners
out of a Rebel Ambush

XIII.—"The Nameless Heroine"

[Pg 6]

[Pg 7]

17

31

43

I.—THE SECRET SERVICE.

CHAPTER I.

Going South in the Secret Service.—Instructions from the Managing Editor.—A

Visit to the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky.—Nashville, Tennessee.—Alabama
Unionists.—How the State was Precipitated into the Rebellion.—Reaching Memphis.—
Abolitionists Mobbed and Hanged.—Brutalities of Slavery.

CHAPTER II.

In Memphis.—How the Secessionists Carried the Day.—Aims of the Leading Rebels.

—On the Railroad.—A Northerner Warned.—An Amusing Dialogue.—Talk
about Assassinating President Lincoln.—Arrival in New Orleans.—Hospitality from a
Stranger.—An Ovation to General Twiggs.—Braxton Bragg.—The Rebels Anxious for
War.—A Glance at the Louisiana Convention.

CHAPTER III.

Association with Leading Secessionists.—Their Hatred of New England.—

Admission to the Democratic Club.—Abuse of President Lincoln.—Sinking
Buildings, Cellars and Walls Impossible.—Cemeteries above Ground.—Monument of a
Pirate.—Canal Street.—The Great French Markets.—Dedication of a Secession Flag in
the Catholic Church.—The Cotton Presses.—Visit to the Jackson Battle-ground.—The
Creoles.—Jackson's Head-Quarters.—A Fire in the Rear.—A Life Saved by a Cigar.—A
Black Republican Flag.—Vice-President Hamlin a Mulatto.—Northerners leaving the
South.

[Pg 8]

[Pg 8]

57

71

81

91

105

CHAPTER IV.

How Letters were Written and Transmitted.—A System of Cipher.—A Philadelphian

among the Rebels.—Probable fate of a Tribune Correspondent, if Discovered.—
Southern Manufactures.—A Visit to a Southern Shoe Factory.—Where the Machinery
and Workmen came from.—How Southern Shoes were Made.—Study of Southern
Society.—Report of a Slave Auction.—Sale of a White Woman.—Girls on the Block.—
Husbands and Wives Separated.—A most Revolting Spectacle.—The Delights of a
Tropical Climate.

CHAPTER V.

A Northerner among the Minute Men.—Louisiana Convention.—A Lively

Discussion.—Boldness of the Union Members.—Another Exciting Discussion.—
Secessionists Repudiate their Own Doctrines.—Despotic Rebel Theories.—The
Northwest to Join the Rebels.—The Great Swamp.—A Trip through Louisiana.—The
Tribune Correspondent Invited to a Seat in the Mississippi Convention.

CHAPTER VI.

The Mississippi State-House.—View of the Rebel Hall.—Its General Air of

Dilapidation.—A Free-and-Easy Convention.—Southern Orators.—The Anglo-
African Delegate.—A Speech Worth Preserving.—Familiar Conversation of Members.
—New Orleans Again.—Reviewing Troops.—New Orleans Again.—Hatred of
Southern Unionists.—Three Obnoxious Northerners.—The Attack on Sumter.—Rebel
Bravado.

CHAPTER VII.

Abolition Tendencies of Kentuckians.—Fundamental Grievances of the Rebels.—

Sudden Departure from New Orleans.—Mobile.—The War Spirit High.—An
Awkward Encounter.—"Massa, Fort Sumter has gone Up."—Bells Ringing.—Cannon
Booming.—Up the Alabama River.—A Dancing Little Darkey.—How to Escape
Suspicion.—Southern Characteristics and Provincialism.—Visit to the Confederate
Capital.—At Montgomery, Alabama.—Copperas Breeches vs. Black Breeches.—A
Correspondent under Arrest.

CHAPTER VIII.

A Journey Through Georgia.—Excitement of the People.—Washington to be

Captured.—Apprehensions about Arming the Negroes.—A Fatal Question.—
Charleston.—Looking at Fort Sumter.—A Short Stay in the City.—North Carolina.—
The Country on Fire.—Submitting to Rebel Scrutiny.—The North Heard From.—
Richmond, Virginia.—The Frenzy of the People.—Up the Potomac.—The Old Flag
Once More.—An Hour with President Lincoln.—Washington in Panic.—A Regiment
which Came Out to Fight.—Baltimore under Rebel Rule.—Pennsylvania.—The North
fully Aroused.—Uprising of the whole People.—A Tribune Correspondent on Trial in
Charleston.—He is Warned to Leave.—His Fortunate Escape

[Pg 9]

125

II.—THE FIELD.
CHAPTER IX.

Sunday at Niagara Falls.—View from the Suspension Bridge.—The Palace of the

Frost King.—Chicago, a City Rising from the Earth.—Mysteries of Western
Currency.—A Horrible Spectacle in Arkansas.—Patriotism of the Northwest.—
Missouri.—The Rebels bent on Revolution.—Nathaniel Lyon.—Camp Jackson.—
Sterling Price Joins the Rebels.—His Quarrel with Frank Blair.—His Personal
Character.—St. Louis in a Convulsion.—A Nashville Experience.—Bitterness of Old
Neighbors.—Good Soldiers for Scaling Walls.—Wholesome Advice to Missouri
Slaveholders

141

151

157

CHAPTER X.

Cairo, Illinois.—A Visit from General McClellan.—A little Speech-making.—Penalty

of Writing for The Tribune.—A Unionist Aided to Escape from Memphis by a
Loyal Girl.—The Fascinations of Cairo.—The Death of Douglas.—A Clear-headed
Contraband.—A Review of the Troops.—"Not a Fighting Nigger, but a Running
Nigger."—Capture of a Rebel Flag

CHAPTER XI.

Missouri Again.—The Retributions of Time.—A Railroad Reminiscence.—Jefferson

City.—A Fugitive Governor.—"Black Republicanism."—Belligerent Chaplain.—
A Rebel Newspaper Converted by the Iowa Soldiers.—Two Camp Stories of the
Marvelous

CHAPTER XII.

Chicago.—Corn, not Cotton, is King.—Curious Reminiscences of the City.—A Visit

to the Grave of Douglas.—Patriotism of the Northwestern Germans.—Their
Social Habits.—Cincinnati in the Early Days.—A City Founded by a Woman.—The
Aspirations of the Cincinnatian.—Kentucky.—Treason and Loyalty in Louisville.—A
Visit to George D. Prentice.—The first Union Troops of Kentucky.— Struggle in the
Kentucky Legislature.—What the Rebel Leaders Want.—Rousseau's Visit to
Washington.—His Interview with President Lincoln.—Timidity of the Kentucky
Unionists.—Loyalty of Judge Lusk.

[Pg 10]

173

181

189

199

213

CHAPTER XIII.

Western Virginia.—Campaigning in the Kanawha Valley.—A Bloodthirsty Female

Rebel.—A Soldier Proves to be a Woman in Disguise.—Extravagant Joy of the
Negroes.—How the Soldiers Foraged.—The Falls of the Kanawha.—A Tragedy of
Slavery.—St. Louis.—The Future of the City.—A disgusted Rebel Editor.

CHAPTER XIV.

The Battle of Wilson Creek.—Daring Exploit of a Kansas Officer.—Death of Lyon.—

His Courage and Patriotism.—Arrival of General Fremont.—Union Families
Driven Out.—An Involuntary Sojourn in Rebel Camps.—A Startling Confederate
Atrocity.

CHAPTER XV.

Jefferson City, Missouri.—Fremont's Army.—Organization of the Bohemian

Brigade.—An Amusing Inquiry.—Diversions of the Correspondents.—A Polite
Army Chaplain.—Sights in Jefferson City.—"Fights mit Sigel."—Fremont's Head-
Quarters.—Appearance of the General.—Mrs. Fremont.—Sigel, Hunter, Pope, Asboth,
McKinstry.—Sigel's Transportation Train.—A Countryman's Estimate of Troops.

CHAPTER XVI.

A Kid-gloved Corps.—Charge of Fremont's Body-guard.—Major White.—Turning

the Tables.—Welcome from the Union Residents of Springfield.—Freaks of the
Kansas Brigade.—A Visit to the Wilson-Creek Battle-Ground.—"Missing."—Graves
Opened by Wolves.—Capture of a Female Spy.—Fremont's Farewell to His Army.—
Dissatisfaction Among the Soldiers.—Spurious Missouri Unionists.—The Conduct of
Secretary Cameron and Adjutant-General Thomas.

CHAPTER XVII.

Rebel Guerrillas Outwitted.—Expedition to Fort Henry.—Scenes in the Captured

Fort.—Commodore Foote in the Pulpit.—Capture of Fort Donelson.—Scenes in
Columbus, Kentucky.—A Curious Anti-Climax.—Hospital Scenes.

[Pg 11]

225

235

243

247

259

275

287

299

CHAPTER XVIII.

Down the Mississippi.—Bombardment of Island Number Ten.—Sensations under

Fire.—Flanking the Island.—Daily Life on a Gunboat.—Triumph of
Engineering Skill.—The Surrender.

CHAPTER XIX.

The Battle of Shiloh.—With the Sanitary Commission.—A Union Orator in Rebel

Hands.—Grant and Sherman in Battle.—Hair-breadth 'Scapes.—General
Sweeney.—Arrival of Buell's Army.—The Final Struggle.—Losses of the Two Armies.

CHAPTER XX.

Grant under a Cloud.—He Smokes and Waits.—Military Jealousies.—The Union

and Rebel Wounded.

CHAPTER XXI.

An Interview with General Sherman.—His Complaints about the Press.—

Sherman's Personal Appearance.—Humors of the Telegraph.—Our Advance
upon Corinth.—Weaknesses of Sundry Generals.—"Ten Thousand Prisoners
Taken."—Halleck's Faux Pas at Corinth.—Out on the Front.—Among the Sharp-
shooters.—Halleck and the War Correspondents.

CHAPTER XXII.

Bloodthirstiness of Rebel Women.—The Battle of Memphis.—Gallant Exploit of the

Rams.—A Sailor on a Lark.—Appearance of the Captured City.—The Jews in
Memphis.—A Rebel Paper Supervised.—"A Dam Black-harted Ablichiness."—Challenge
from a Southern Woman.—Valuable Currency.—A Rebel Trick.—One of Sherman's
Jokes.—Fictitious Battle Reports.—Curtis's March through Arkansas.—The Siege of
Cincinnati.

CHAPTER XXIII.

With the Army of the Potomac.—On the War-Path.—A Duel in Arizona.—How

Correspondents Avoided Expulsion.—Shameful Surrender of Harper's Ferry.—
General Hooker at Antietam.—"Stormed at with Shot and Shell."—A Night Among
the Pickets.—The Battlefield.

CHAPTER XXIV.

The Day after the Battle.—Among the Dead.—Lee Permitted to Escape.—The John

Brown Engine-House.—President Lincoln Reviewing the Army.—Dodging
Cannon Balls.—"An Intelligent Contraband."—Harper's Ferry.—Curiosities of the
Signal Corps.—View from Maryland Hights.

CHAPTER XXV.

Marching Southward.—Rebel Girl with Sharp Tongue.—A Slight Mistake.—

Removal of General McClellan.—Familiarity of the Pickets.—The Life of an
Army Correspondent.—A Negro's Idea of Freedom.—The Battle of Fredericksburg.—A
Telegraphic Blunder.—The Batteries at Fredericksburg.—A Disappointed Virginian.—
The Spirit of the Army under Defeat.

[Pg 12]

311

CHAPTER XXVI.

Reminiscences of President Lincoln.—His Great Canvass with Douglas.—His Visit

to Kansas.—His Manner of Public Speaking.—High Praise from an Opponent.
—A Deed without a Name.—Sherman's Quarrel with the Press.—An Army
Correspondent Court-Martialed.—A Visit to President Lincoln.—Two of his "Little
Stories."—His familiar Conversation.—Opinions about McClellan and Vicksburg.—
Our best Contribution to History.

327

337

CHAPTER XXVII.

Reminiscences of General Sumner.—His Conduct in Kansas.—A Thrilling Scene in
Battle.—How Sumner Fought.—Ordered Back by McClellan.—Love for his Old
Comrades.—Traveling Through the Northwest.—A Visit to Rosecrans's Army.—Rosecrans
in a Great Battle.—A Scene in Memphis.

III.—THE DUNGEON.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Running the Vicksburg Batteries.—Expedition Badly Fitted Out.—"Into the Jaws of

Death."—A Moment of Suspense.—Disabled and Drifting Helplessly.—
Bombarding, Scalding, Burning, Drowning.—Taking to a Hay Bale.—Overturned.—
Rescued from the River.—The Killed, Wounded, and Missing.

[Pg 13]

347

357

365

373

381

387

393

CHAPTER XXIX.

Standing by Our Colors.—Confinement in the Vicksburg Jail.—Sympathizing

Sambo.—Parolled to Return Home.—Turning the Tables.—Visit from Many
Rebels.—Interview with Jacob Thompson.—Arrival in Jackson, Mississippi.—Kindness
of Southern Rebels.—A Project for Escape.

CHAPTER XXX.

A Word with a Union Woman.—Grierson's Great Raid.—Stumping the State.—An

Enraged Texan Officer.—Waggery of a Captured Journalist.—The Alabama
River.—Atlanta Editors Advocate Hanging the Prisoners.—Renegade Vermonters.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Arrival in Richmond.—Lodged in Libby Prison.—Sufferings from Vermin.—

Prisoners Denounced as Blasphemous.—Thieving of a Virginia Gentleman.—
Brutality of Captain Turner.—Prisoners Murdered by the Guards.—Fourth of July
Celebration.—The Horrors of Belle Isle.

CHAPTER XXXII.

The Captains Ordered Below.—Two Selected for Execution.—The Gloomiest Night

in Prison.—Glorious Revulsion of Feeling.—Exciting Discussion in Prison.—
Stealing Money from the Captives.—Horrible Treatment of Northern Citizens.—
Extravagant Rumors among the Prisoners.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Transferred to Castle Thunder.—Better than the Libby.—Determined Not to Die.—

A Negro Cruelly Whipped.—The Execution of Spencer Kellogg.—Steadfastness
of Southern Unionists.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

A Waggish Journalist.—Proceedings of a Mock Court.—Escape by Killing a Guard.

—Escape by Playing Negro.—Escape by Forging a Release.—Escaped Prisoner
at Jeff Davis's Levee.

CHAPTER XXXV.

Assistance from a Negro Boy.—The Prison Officers Enraged.—Visit from a Friendly

Woman.—Shut up in a Cell.—Stealing from Flag-of-Truce Letters.—Parols
Repudiated by the Rebels.—Sentenced to the Salisbury Prison.—Abolitionists before
the War.

[Pg 14]

401

CHAPTER XXXVI.

The Open Air and Pure Water.—The Crushing Weight of Imprisonment.—Bad

411

419

427

435

News from Home.—The Great Libby Tunnel.—Escape of Colonel Streight.—
Horrible Sufferings of Union Officers.—A Cool Method of Escape.—Captured through
the Obstinacy of a Mule.—Concealing Money when Searched.—Attempts to Escape
Frustrated.—Yankee Deserters Whipped and Hanged.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Great Influx of Prisoners.—Starving in the Midst of Food.—Freezing in the Midst

of Fuel.—Rebel Surgeons Generally Humane.—Terrible Scenes in the Hospitals.
—The Rattling Dead-Cart.—Cruelty of our Government.—General Butler's Example of
Retaliation.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Attempted Outbreak and Massacre.—Cold-blooded Murders Frequent.—Hostility

to The Tribune Correspondents.—A Cruel Injustice.—Rebel Expectations of
Peace.—The Prison Like the Tomb.—Something about Tunneling.—The Tunnelers
Ingeniously Baffled.

IV.—THE ESCAPE.
CHAPTER XXXIX.

Fifteen Months of Fruitless Endeavor.—A Fearful Journey in Prospect.—A Friendly

Confederate Officer.—Effects of Hunger and Cold.—Another Plan in Reserve.—
Passing the Sentinel.—"Beg Pardon, Sir."—Encountering Rebel Acquaintances.

CHAPTER XL.

"Out of the Jaws of Death."—Concealed in Sight of the Prison.—Certain to be

Brought Back.—Commencing the Long Journey.—Too Weak for Traveling.—
Severe March in the Rain.

[Pg 15]

441

449

461

469

477

CHAPTER XLI.

A Cabin of Friendly Negroes.—Southerners Unacquainted with Tea.—Walking

Twelve Miles for Nothing.—Every Negro a Friend.—Touching Fidelity of the
Slaves.—Pursued by a Home-Guard.—Help in the Last Extremity.—Carried Fifteen
Miles by Friends

CHAPTER XLII.

A Curious Dilemma.—Food, Shelter, and Friends.—Loyalty of the Mountaineers.—

A Levee in a Barn.—Visited by an Old Friend.—A Day of Alarms.—A Woman's
Ready Wit.—Danger of Detection from Snoring.—Promises to Aid Suffering Comrades.
—A Repentant Rebel

CHAPTER XLIII.

Flanking a Rebel Camp.—Secreted among the Husks.—Wandering from the Road.

—Crossing the Yadkin River.—Union Bushwhackers.—Union Soldiers "Lying
Out."—An Energetic Invalid

CHAPTER XLIV.

Money Concealed in Clothing.—Peril of Union Citizens.—Fording Creeks at

Midnight.—Climbing the Blue Ridge.—Crossing the New River at Midnight

CHAPTER XLV.

Over Mountains and Through Ravines.—Mistaken for Confederate Guards.—A

Rebel Guerrilla Killed.—Meeting a Former Fellow-Prisoner.—Alarm about
Rebel Cavalry.—A Stanch old Unionist.—The Greatest Danger.—A Well Fortified
Refuge

Engd. by Geo. E. Perine, N.Y.

RICHARD T. COLBURN, "NEW YORK WORLD". CHARLES C.

COFFIN, "CARLETON" - "BOSTON JOURNAL". WILLIAM E. DAVIS,

"CINCINNATI GAZETTE". JUNIUS H. BROWNE, "NEW YORK

TRIBUNE". L. L. CROUNSE, "NEW YORK TIMES". W. D. BICKHAM,
"CINCINNATI COMMERCIAL". THOMAS W. KNOX, "NEW YORK

HERALD". A GROUP OF ARMY CORRESPONDENTS.

Click for a larger image

THE FIELD, THE DUNGEON, AND THE ESCAPE.

487

495

CHAPTER XLVI.

Dan Ellis, the Union Guide.—In Good Hands at Last.—Ellis's Bravery.—Lost! A

Perilous Blunder.—A most Fortunate Encounter.—Rejoining Dan and His
Party.—A Terrible March

CHAPTER XLVII.

Fording Creeks in the Darkness.—Prospect of a Dreary Night.—Sleeping among

the Husks.—Turning Back in Discouragement.—An Alarm at Midnight.—A
Young Lady for a Guide.—The Nameless Heroine.

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503

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Among the Delectable Mountains.—Separation from Friends.—Union Women

Scrutinizing the Yankee.—"Slide Down off that Horse."—Friendly Words, but
Hostile Eyes.—Hospitalities of a Loyal Patriarch.—"Out of the Mouth of Hell."

[Pg 17]

THE MANAGING
EDITOR.

PRELIMINARY
INSTRUCTIONS.

I.

THE SECRET SERVICE.

CHAPTER I.

I will go on the slightest errand now to the antipodes that you can desire to send me on.

Much Ado about Nothing.

Early in 1861, I felt a strong desire to look at the Secession movement for myself; to learn, by personal

observation, whether it sprang from the people or not; what the Revolutionists wanted, what they hoped, and
what they feared.

But the southern climate, never propitious to the longevity of Abolitionists, was now unfavorable to the health

of every northerner, no ma�er how strong his political constitution. I felt the danger of being recognized; for
several years of roving journalism, and a good deal of political speaking on the frontier, had made my face
familiar to persons whom I did not remember at all, and given me that large and motley acquaintance which
every half-public life necessitates.

Moreover, I had passed through the Kansas struggle; and many former shining lights of Border Ruffianism

were now, with perfect fitness, lurid torches in the early bonfires of Secession. I did not care to meet their eyes, for
I could not remember a single man of them all who would be likely to love me, either wisely or too well. But the
newspaper instinct was strong within me, and the journalist who deliberates is lost. My hesitancy resulted in
writing for a roving commission to represent The Tribune in the Southwest.

A few days after, I found the Managing Editor in his office, going through the great pile

of le�ers the morning mail had brought him, with the wonderful rapidity which quick intuition, long experience,
and natural fitness for that most delicate and onerous position alone can give. For the modern newspaper is a sort
of intellectual iron-clad, upon which, while the Editorial Captain makes out the reports to his chief, the public,
and entertains the guests in his elegant cabin, the leading column, and receives the credit for every broadside of
type and every paper bullet of the brain poured into the enemy,—back out of sight is an Executive Officer, with
li�le popular fame, who keeps the ship all right from hold to maintop, looks to every detail with sleepless
vigilance, and whose life is a daily miracle of hard work.

The Manager went through his mail, I think, at the rate of one le�er per minute. He made final disposition of

each when it came into his hand; acting upon the great truth, that if he laid one aside for future consideration,
there would soon be a series of strata upon his groaning desk, which no mental geologist could fathom or classify.
Some were ruthlessly thrown into the waste-basket. Others, with a lightning pencil-stroke, to indicate the type
and style of printing, were placed on the pile for the composing-room. A few great packages of manuscript were
re-enclosed in envelopes for the mail, with a three-line note, which, while I did not read, I knew must run like this:
—

"My Dear Sir—Your article has unquestionable merit; but by the imperative pressure of
important news upon our columns, we are very reluctantly compelled," etc.

There was that quick, educated instinct, which reads the whole from a very small part,

taking in a line here and a key-word there. Two or three glances appeared to decide the fate of each; yet the
reader was not wholly absorbed, for all the while he kept up a running conversation:

"I received your letter. Are you going to New Orleans?"

"Not unless you send me."

[Pg 18]

[Pg 19]

A RIDE THROUGH
KENTUCKY.

THE CURIOSITIES OF
WHITE'S CAVE.

"I suppose you know it is rather precarious business?"

"O, yes."

"Two of our correspondents have come home within the last week, after narrow escapes. We have six still in the

South; and it would not surprise me, this very hour, to receive a telegram announcing the imprisonment or death
of any one of them."

"I have thought about all that, and decided."

"Then we shall be very glad to have you go."

"When may I start?"

"To-day, if you like."

"What field shall I occupy?"

"As large a one as you please. Go and remain just where you think best."

"How long shall I stay?"

"While the excitement lasts, if possible. Do you know how long you will stay? You will be back here some fine

morning in just about two weeks."

"Wait and see."

Pondering upon the line of conduct best for the journey, I remembered the injunction of the immortal

Pickwick: "It is always best on these occasions to do what the mob do!" "But," suggested Mr. Snodgrass, "suppose
there are two mobs?" "Shout with the largest," replied Mr. Pickwick. Volumes could not say more. Upon this plan
I determined to act—concealing my occupation, political views, and place of residence. It is not pleasant to wear a
padlock upon one's tongue, for weeks, nor to adopt a course of systematic duplicity; but personal convenience
and safety rendered it an inexorable necessity.

On Tuesday, February 26th, I left Louisville, Kentucky, by the Nashville train. Public

affairs were the only topic of conversation among the passengers. They were about equally divided into
enthusiastic Secessionists, urging in favor of the new movement that negroes already commanded higher prices
than ever before; and quasi Loyalists, reiterating, "We only want Kentucky to remain in the Union as long as she
can do so honorably." Not a single man declared himself unqualifiedly for the Government.

A ride of five hours among blue, dreamy hills, feathered with timber; dense forests, with their drooping foliage

and log dwellings, in the doors of which women and li�le girls were complacently smoking their pipes; great,
hospitable farm-houses, in the midst of superb natural parks; tobacco plantations, upon which negroes of both
sexes—the women in cowhide brogans, and faded frocks, with gaudy kerchiefs wrapped like turbans about their
heads—were hoeing, and following the plow, brought us to Cave City.

I left the train for a stage-ride of ten miles to the Mammoth Cave Hotel. In the midst of a smooth lawn, shaded

by stately oaks and slender pines, it looms up huge and white, with a long, low, one-story offshoot fronted by a
deep portico, and known as "the Cottages."

Several evening hours were spent pleasantly in White's Cave, where the formations, at

first dull and leaden, turn to spotless white after one grows accustomed to the dim light of the torches. There are
li�le lakes so u�erly transparent that your eye fails to detect the presence of water; stone drapery, hanging in
graceful folds, and forming an exquisitely beautiful chamber; petrified fountains, where the water still trickles

[Pg 20]

[Pg 21]

THE MAMMOTH CAVE.
—LUNG COMPLAINTS.

METHODIST CHURCH.—
FAT MAN'S MISERY.

down and hardens into stone; a honey-combed roof, which is a very perfect counterfeit of art; long rows of
stalactites, symmetrically ribbed and fluted, which stretch off in a pleasing colonnade, and other rare specimens
of Nature's handiwork in her fantastic moods. Many of them are vast in dimension, though the geologists declare
that it requires thirty years to deposit a formation no thicker than a wafer! Well says the German proverb "God is
patient because he is eternal."

With another visitor I passed the next day in the Mammoth Cave. "Mat," our sable cicerone, had been acting in

the capacity of guide for twenty-five years, and it was estimated that he had walked more than fifty thousand
miles under ground. The story is not so improbable when one remembers that the passages of the great cavern
are, in the aggregate, upwards of one hundred and fifty miles in length, and that it has two hundred and twenty-
six known chambers. The outfit consisted of two lamps for himself and one for each of us. Cans of oil are kept at
several interior points; for it is of the last importance that visitors to this labyrinth of darkness should keep their
lamps trimmed and burning.

The thermometer within stands constantly at fifty-nine Fahrenheit; and the cave

"breathes just once a year." Through the winter it takes one long inspiration, and in
summer the air rushes steadily outward. Its vast chambers are the lungs of the universe.

In 1845, a number of wood and stone co�ages were erected in the cavern, and inhabited by consumptive

patients, who believed that the dry atmosphere and equable temperature would prove beneficial. After three or
four months their faces were bloodless; the pupils of their sunken eyes dilated until the iris became invisible and
the organs appeared black, no ma�er what their original color. Three patients died in the cave; the others expired
soon after leaving it.

Mat gave a vivid description of these invalids fli�ing about like ghosts—their hollow coughs echoing and

reechoing through the cavernous chambers. It must have looked horrible—as if the tomb had oped its ponderous
and marble jaws, that its victims might wander about in this subterranean Purgatory. A cemetery would seem
cheerful in comparison with such a living entombment. Volunteer medical advice, like a motion to adjourn, is
always in order. My own panacea for lung-complaints would be exactly the opposite. Mount a horse or take a
carriage, and ride, by easy stages at first, across the great plains to the Rocky Mountains or California, eating and
sleeping in the open air. Nature is very kind, if you will trust her fully; and in the atmosphere, which is so dry
and pure that fresh meat, cut in strips and hung up, will cure without salting or smoking, and may be carried all
over the world, her healing power seems almost boundless.

The walls and roof of the cave were darkened and often hidden by myriads of screeching bats, at this season of

the year all hanging torpid by the claws, with heads downward, and unable to fly away, even when subjected to
the cruel experiment of being touched by the torches.

The Methodist Church is a semi-circular chamber, in which a ledge forms the natural

pulpit; and logs, brought in when religious service was first performed, fifty years ago, in perfect preservation, yet
serve for seats. Methodist itinerants and other clergymen still preach at long intervals. Worship, conducted by the
"dim religious light" of tapers, and accompanied by the effect which music always produces in subterranean
halls, must be peculiarly impressive. It suggests those early days in the Christian Church, when the hunted
followers of Jesus met at midnight in mountain caverns, to blend in song their reverent voices; to hear anew the
strange, sweet story of his teachings, his death, and his all-embracing love.

Upon one of the walls beyond, a figure of gypsum, in bass-relief, is called the American Eagle. The venerable

bird, in consonance with the evil times upon which he had fallen, was in a sadly ragged and dilapidated
condition. One leg and other portions of his body had seceded, leaving him in seeming doubt as to his own
identity; but the beak was still perfect, as if he could send forth upon occasion his ancient notes of self-gratulation.

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A RIDE DOWN THE
LETHE.

THE STAR CHAMBER.—
MAGNIFICENT
DISTANCES.

POLITICAL FEELING IN
KENTUCKY.

Minerva's Dome has fluted walls, and a concave roof, beautifully honey-combed; but no statue of its mistress.

The oft-invoked goddess, wearied by the merciless orators who are always compelling her to leap anew from the
brain of Jove, has doubtless, in some hidden nook, found seclusion and repose.

We toiled along the narrow, tortuous passage, chiseled through the rock by some ancient stream of water, and

appropriately named the Fat Man's Misery; wiped away the perspiration in the ample passage beyond, known as
the Great Relief; glanced inside the Bacon Chamber, where the little masses of lime-rock pendent from the roof do
look marvelously like esculent hams; peeped down into the cylindrical Bo�omless Pit, which the reader shall be
told, confidentially, has a bo�om just one hundred and sixty feet below the surface; laughed at the roof-figures of
the Giant, his Wife, and Child, which resemble a caricature from Punch; admired the delicate, exquisite flowers of
white, fibrous gypsum, along the walls of Pensacola Avenue; stood beside the Dead Sea, a dark, gloomy body of
water; crossed the Styx by the natural bridge which spans it, and halted upon the shore of Lethe.

Then, embarking in a li�le flat-boat, we slowly glided along the river of Oblivion. It was

a strange, weird spectacle. The flickering torches dimly revealed the dark inclosing walls, which rise abruptly a
hundred feet to the black roof. Our sable guide looked, in the ghastly light, like a recent importation from Pluto's
domain; and stood in the bows, steering the li�le craft, which moved slowly down the winding, sluggish river.
The deep silence was only broken by drops of water, which fell from the roof, striking the stream like the tick of a
clock, and the sharp ylp of the paddle, as it was thrust into the wave to guide us. When my companion evoked
from his flute strains of slow music, which resounded in hollow echoes through the long vault, it grew so
demoniac, that I almost expected the walls to open and reveal a party of fiends, dancing to infernal music around
a lurid fire. I never saw any stage effect or work of art that could compare with it. If one would enjoy the most
vivid sensations of the grand and gloomy, let him float down Lethe to the sound of a dirge.

We first saw the Star Chamber with the lights withdrawn. It revealed to us the meaning

of "darkness visible." We seemed to feel the dense blackness against our eye-balls. An
object within half an inch of them was not in the faintest degree perceptible. If one were left alone here, reason
could not long sustain itself. Even a few hours, in the absence of light, would probably shake it. In numberless
li�le spots, the dark gypsum has scaled off, laying bare minute sections of the white limestone roof, resembling
stars. When the chamber was lighted the illusion became perfect. We seemed in a deep, rock-walled pit, gazing
up at the starry firmament. The torch, slowly moved to throw a shadow along the roof, produced the effect of a
cloud sailing over the sky; but the scene required no such aid to render it one of marvelous beauty. The Star
Chamber is the most striking picture in all this great gallery of Nature.

My companion had spent his whole life within a few miles of the cave, but now visited it for the first time. Thus

it is always; objects which pilgrims come half across the world to see, we regard with indifference at our own
doors. Persons have passed all their days in sight of Mount Washington, and yet never looked upon the grand
panorama from its brow. Men have lived from childhood almost within sound of the roar of Niagara, without
ever gazing on the vast fountain, where mother Earth, like Rachel, weeps for her children, and will not be
comforted. We appreciate no enjoyment justly, until we see it through the charmed medium of magnificent
distances.

Throughout Kentucky the pending troubles were uppermost in every heart and on

every tongue. One gentleman, in conversation, thus epitomized the feeling of the State:—

"We have more wrongs to complain of than any other slave community, for Kentucky loses more negroes than

all the co�on States combined. But Secession is no remedy. It would be jumping out of the frying-pan into the
fire."

Another, whose head was silvered with age, said to me:—

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COTTON-FIELDS.—AN
INDIGNANT
ALABAMIAN.

"OUR CORRESPON-

DENT" AS A NEW
MEXICAN.

"When I was a boy here in this county, some of our neighbors started for New Orleans on a flat-boat. As we

bade them good-by, we never expected to see them again; we thought they were going out of the world. But,
after several months, they returned, having come on foot all the way, through the Indian country, packing 1 their
blankets and provisions. Now we come from New Orleans in five days. I thank God to have lived in this age—the
age of the Railroad, the Telegraph, and the Printing Press. Ours was the greatest nation and the greatest era in
history. But that is all past now. The Government is broken to pieces; the slave States can not obtain their rights;
and those which have seceded will never come back."

An old farmer "reckoned," as I traveled a good deal, that I might know be�er than he whether there was any

hope of a peaceable se�lement. If the North, as he believed, was willing to be just, an overwhelming majority of
Kentuckians would stand by the Union. "It is a great pity," he said, very earnestly, in a broken voice, "that we
Americans could not live harmoniously, like brethren, instead of always quarreling about a few niggers."

My recollections of Nashville, Tennessee, include only an unpalatable breakfast in one of its abominable hotels;

a glimpse at some of its pleasant shaded streets and marble capitol, which, with the exception of that in
Columbus, Ohio, is considered the finest State-house on the continent.

Continuing southward, I found the country already "appareled in the sweet livery of spring." The elm and gum

trees wore their leafy glory; the grass and wheat carpeted the ground with swelling verdure, and field and forest
glowed with the glossy green of the holly. The railway led through large co�on-fields, where many negroes, of
both sexes, were plowing and hoeing, while overseers sat upon the high, zig-zag fences, armed with rifles or shot-
guns. On the withered stalks snowy tufts of co�on were still protruding from the dull brown bolls—portions of
the last year's crop, which had never been picked, and were disappearing under the plow.

A native Kentuckian, now a young merchant in Alabama, was one of my fellow-

passengers. He pronounced the people aristocratic. They looked down upon every man
who worked for his living—indeed, upon every one who did not own negroes. The ladies were pre�y, and often
accomplished, but, he mildly added, he would like them be�er if they did not "dip." He insisted that Alabama
had been precipitated into the revolution.

"We were swindled out of our rights. In my own town, Jere Clemens—an ex-United States senator, and one of

the ablest men in the State—was elected to the convention on the strongest public pledges of Unionism. When
the convention met, he went completely over to the enemy. The leaders—a few heavy slaveholders, aided by
political demagogues—dared not submit the Secession ordinance to a popular vote; they knew the people would
defeat them. They are determined on war; they will exasperate the ignorant masses to the last degree before they
allow them to vote on any test question. I trust the Government will put them down by force of arms, no ma�er
what the cost!"

The same evening, crossing the Alabama line, I was in the "Confederate States of America." At the li�le town of

Athens, the Stars and Stripes were still floating; as the train left, I cast a longing look at the old flag, wondering
when I should see it again.

The next person who took a seat beside me went through the formula of questions,

usual between strangers in the South and the Far West, asking my name, residence,
business, and destination. He was informed, in reply, that I lived in the Territory of New Mexico, and was now
traveling leisurely to New Orleans, designing to visit Vera Cruz and the City of Mexico before returning home.
This hypothesis, to which I afterward adhered, was rendered plausible by my knowledge of New Mexico, and
gave me the advantage of not being deemed a partisan. Secessionists and Unionists alike, regarding me as a
stranger with no particular sympathies, conversed freely. Aaron Burr asserts that "a lie well stuck to is good as the
truth;" in my own case, it was decidedly better than the truth.

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