Atlantic Monthly, Vol. XII. July, 1863, No. LXIX. by Various

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The earnestness with which I urged the cause of the wretched prisoners
excited in me an interest I was not before conscious of feeling, and I
suddenly found myself almost unable to speak from the choking emotions
which swelled up into my throat.

Beneath the General's argument for abstract justice, I thought, however, I
discovered a warm sympathy for my distress, and I gathered encouragement.

In a few minutes an officer who had been in the room during our interview,
and from whom the General desired to conceal his benevolent intention
toward the men, took his leave. The General turned to me immediately, and,
in a voice scarcely audible, said,--"Do not feel so badly, Captain; it
shall be all right."

Not daring to trust my voice, I bowed my thanks and left the room, happy
in the possession of so agreeable a secret.

The next morning, as I rode out to the spot assigned for the terrible
tragedy, and gazed upon the silent, curious crowd that followed, and upon
the four men sitting there upon those rough pine coffins, straining their
eager eyes for one long last look at the glorious sun whose rising they
were never again to see, I doubted if their happiness, when an hour hence
they would be returning to the city with joyous anticipations of assured
life, would be any more sincere than his,--"the American Haynau's,"--who,
in his room at the St. Charles Hotel, rejoiced that he had been able to
indulge the inclinations of his heart without detriment to the service.

In justice to others, I ought to add that a strong effort for the pardon
of these prisoners was made by a number of the prominent residents of New
Orleans.

It was in June of last year, I think, that a German bookseller named
Keller was sent by General Butler to Ship Island for two years for
exhibiting in his shop-window a human skeleton labelled "Chickahominy,"
claiming it to be the bones of some gallant soldier of the Union, army who
had fallen in one of the disastrous battles in Virginia.

At his examination, Keller protested that he was a Union man, and had been
imposed upon by some designing person who had taken advantage of his
ignorance to make his shop the medium of displaying contempt and hatred of
our cause by the revolting spectacle I have mentioned. It was proved,
however, that Keller had said these were the bones of a Yankee. His
defence may or may not have been true; but, at all events, he was
apparently not an evil-disposed person, and I always believed the General
punished the offence rather than the man.

After Keller had been on Ship Island some two or three months, his wife, a
very modest, respectable little woman, came to me frequently with a
piteous story of the suffering occasioned herself and her children by the
prolonged absence of her husband, and begged me to intercede with the
General for his pardon. Satisfied that the cause could suffer no injury by
the return of the unfortunate man to his home, I promised to do my best to
obtain his release. Accordingly, I took advantage of every favorable
opportunity to drop a word in the hearing of the General for the benefit
of poor Keller, who was pining away in his confinement at a rate that bade
fair soon to render him as valuable a subject for anatomical research as
the article he had exhibited in his shop-window.

At first my efforts met with very doubtful encouragement; but I was
satisfied that the General's obduracy was caused by a conflict between his
sense of public duty and his natural tendency toward forgiveness; so,
fully assured that a few weeks would produce the desired result, I
contented myself with merely recalling the ease to his memory whenever an
opportunity offered.

Toward the last of October, being somewhat impatient at my tardy progress,
I had just resolved to abandon my previous policy of waiting for time to
do its work, and to make a vigorous onslaught upon the General's
sympathies, when I learned that he had issued an order for Keller's
release; and thus I was confirmed in my opinion that the General's heart
was not proof against the claims of the unfortunate erring.

In the case of Mrs. Phillips, who was banished to Ship Island for her
ghastly levity over the dead body of the gallant and lamented young De
Kay, the General ordered a release after three months of exile, because he
learned that her health was suffering in consequence of separation from
her friends; and I doubt very much if she would have remained in duress
three weeks, if the Rebel newspapers had not taunted the General so much,
and threatened an expedition against the island for the purpose of
rescuing the fair prisoner.

Mrs. Larue and Mrs. Cowen, the only other women who were imprisoned,--the
former for openly distributing treasonable pamphlets in the street,
thereby causing a riot, and the latter for publishing in a newspaper a
card of defiance against the national authority,--after two weeks of
punishment, were pardoned on the first intimation that they were suffering
in health or comfort. Indeed, the General never desired the imprisonment
of any person a single day beyond the time necessary for his correction,
or longer than the requirements of justice demanded. I presume very few
persons are aware that one of his last acts in New Orleans was to
recommend to General Banks the pardon of all prisoners confined on mere
political charges.

* * * * *

On account of the great and increasing pressure on the General's time by
the immense and miscellaneous crowd of visitors, it was found necessary to
establish an office outside of his, where every unknown caller should
state his business to the officer in charge, who would decide whether or
not it was essential for the person to see the General.

For a few weeks I had charge of this office, and nearly all my time was
occupied in refusing passes outside of our lines. In a majority of
instances, the applicants for the privilege of going into the
Confederacy--many of them women--told the most sorrowful tales of
destitution that could be relieved only by reaching their friends in the
enemy's country; others urged, that a husband, a father, or a brother was
enjoined by the physician to seek the country as the sole means of
securing a return of health; in short, I was plied with every conceivable
story of heart-rending woe and misery, related to induce the granting of
passes, which the General, in consequence of the fact that _in almost
every instance_ where he had yielded to such importunities his confidence
had been abused by the carrying of supplies and information to the Rebel
army, had ordered me invariably to refuse. Ordinarily I succeeded in
steeling my heart against these urgent entreaties; but occasionally some
story, peculiarly harrowing in its details, seemed to demand a special
effort in behalf of the applicant, and I would go to the General, and, in
the desperation of my cause, exclaim,--

"General, you must see some of these people. I know, if you would only
hear their stories, you would give them passes."

"You are entirely correct, Captain," he would reply. "I am sure I should;
and that is precisely why I want you to see them for me."

And with this very doubtful satisfaction I would return to my desk,
convinced that sensibility in a man who was allowed no discretion in its
exercise was an entirely useless attribute, and that in future I would set
my face as a flint against every appeal to my feelings.

* * * * *

Since my return to the North, I have heard a number of gentlemen--former
political associates of General Butler--compare his "marvellous
conversion" (here they always look, and apparently mean to be, severely
sarcastic) on the slavery-question with that of Saul of Tarsus to
Christianity.

If the last two years of our history have failed to educate them up to the
meaning of this war, I confess that I think them almost incorrigible; yet
I cannot believe that even they, if they had had the experience which has
placed not only General Butler, but almost every one of the twenty
thousand men composing the old "Army of the Gulf," firmly on the side of
freedom to all, of whatever complexion, could longer withstand the
dictates of God and humanity.

Let me describe one or two of the scenes I witnessed in New Orleans, that
opened our eyes to the true nature of human bondage. The following
incident is the same so well told by the General himself to the committee
of the New-York Chamber of Commerce, at the Fifth-Avenue Hotel, in January
last, and which was then reported in full in the New-York "Times." One of
my objects in repeating this story is to illustrate my implicit
confidence--inspired by my knowledge of his character--in the General's
humanity and championship of the weak and down-trodden.

Just previous to the arrival of General Banks in New Orleans I was
appointed Deputy-Provost-Marshal of the city, and held the office for some
days after he had assumed command. One day, during the last week of our
stay in the South, a young woman of about twenty years called upon me to
complain that her landlord had ordered her out of her house, because she
was unable longer to pay the rent, and she wished me to authorise her to
take possession of one of her father's houses that had been confiscated,
he being a wealthy Rebel, then in the Confederacy, and actively engaged in
the Rebellion.

The girl was a perfect blonde in complexion: her hair was of a very
pretty, light shade of brown, and perfectly straight; her eyes a clear,
honest gray; and her skin as delicate and fair as a child's. Her manner
was modest and ingenuous, and her language indicated much intelligence.

Considering these circumstances, I think I was justified in wheeling
around in my chair and indulging in an unequivocal stare of incredulous
amazement, when in the course of conversation she dropped a remark about
having been born a slave.

"Do you mean to tell me," said I, "that you have negro blood in your
veins?" And I was conscious of a feeling of embarrassment at asking a
question so apparently preposterous.

"Yes," she replied, and then related the history of her life, which I
shall repeat as briefly as possible.

"My father," she commenced, "is Mr. Cox, formerly a judge of one of the
courts in this city. He was very rich, and owned a great many houses here.
There is one of them over there," she remarked, naively, pointing to a
handsome residence opposite my office in Canal Street. "My mother was one
of his slaves. When I was sufficiently grown, he placed me at school at
the Mechanics' Institute Seminary, on Broadway, New York. I remained there
until I was about fifteen years of age, when Mr. Cox came on to New York
and took me from the school to a hotel, where he obliged me to live with
him as his mistress; and to-day, at the age of twenty-one, I am the mother
of a boy five years old who is my father's son. After remaining some time
in New York, he took me to Cincinnati and other cities at the North, in
all of which I continued to live with him as before. During this sojourn
in the Free States, I induced him to give me a deed of manumission; but on
our return to New Orleans he obtained it from me, and destroyed it. At
this time I tried to break off the unnatural connection, whereupon he
caused me to be publicly whipped in the streets of the city, and then
obliged me to marry a colored man; and now he has run off, leaving me
without the least provision against want or actual starvation, and I ask
you to give me one of his houses that I may have a home for myself and
three little children."

Strange and improbable as this story appeared, I remembered, as it
progressed, that I had heard it from Governor Shepley, who, as well as
General Butler, had investigated it, and learned that it was not only true
in every particular, but was perfectly familiar to the citizens of New
Orleans, by whom Judge Cox had been elected to administer JUSTICE.

The clerks of my office, most of whom were old residents of the city, were
well informed in the facts of the case, and attested the truth of the
girl's story.

I was exceedingly perplexed, and knew not what to do in the matter; but
after some thought I answered her thus:--

"This Department has changed rulers, and I know nothing of the policy of
the new commander. If General Butler were still in authority, I should not
hesitate a moment to grant your request,--for, even if I should commit an
error of judgment, I am perfectly certain he would overlook it, and
applaud the humane impulse that prompted the act; but General Banks might
be less indulgent, and make very serious trouble with me for taking a step
he would perhaps regard as unwarrantable."

I still hesitated, undecided how to act, when suddenly a happy thought
struck me, and, turning to the girl, I added,--

"To-day is Thursday; next Tuesday I leave this city with General Butler
for a land where, thank God! such wrongs as yours cannot exist; and, as
General Banks is deeply engrossed in the immediate business at
head-quarters, he will hardly hear of my action before the ship
leaves,--so I am going to give you the house."

I am sure the kind-hearted reader will find no fault with me that I took
particular pains to select one of the largest of her father's houses, (it
contained forty rooms,) when she told me that she wanted to let the
apartments as a means of support to herself and her children.

My only regret in the case was that Mr. Cox had not been considerate
enough to leave a carriage and pair of bays on my hands, that I might have
had the satisfaction of enabling his daughter to disport herself about the
city in a style corresponding to her importance as a member of so wealthy
and respectable a family.

And this story that I have just told reminds me of another, similar in
many respects.

One Sunday morning, late last summer, as I came down-stairs to the
breakfast-room, I was surprised to find a large number of persons
assembled in the library.

When I reached the door, a member of the Staff took me by the arm, and
drew me into the room toward a young and delicate mulatto girl who was
standing against the opposite wall, with the meek, patient bearing of her
race, so expressive of the system of repression to which they have been so
long subjected.

Drawing down the border of her dress, my conductor showed me a sight more
revolting than I trust ever again to behold.

The poor girl's back was flayed until the quivering flesh resembled a
fresh beefsteak scorched on a gridiron. With a cold chill creeping through
my veins, I turned away from the sickening spectacle, and for an
explanation of the affair scanned the various persons about the room.

In the centre of the group, at his writing-table, sat the General. His
head rested on his hand, and he was evidently endeavoring to fix his
attention upon the remarks of a tall, swarthy-looking man who stood
opposite, and who, I soon discovered, was the owner of the girl, and was
attempting a defence of the foul outrage he had committed upon the
unresisting and helpless person of his unfortunate victim, who stood
smarting, but silent, under the dreadful pain inflicted by the brutal
lash.

By the side of the slaveholder stood our Adjutant-General, his face livid
with almost irrepressible rage, and his fists tight-clenched, as if to
violently restrain himself from visiting the guilty wretch with summary
and retributive justice. Disposed about the room, in various attitudes,
but all exhibiting in their countenances the same mingling of horror and
indignation, were other members of the Staff,--while, near the door, stood
three or four house-servants, who were witnesses in the case.

To the charge of having administered the inhuman castigation, Landry (the
owner of the girl) pleaded guilty, but urged in extenuation that the girl
had dared to make an effort for that freedom which her instincts, drawn
from the veins of her abuser, had taught her was the God-given right of
all who possess the germ of immortality, no matter what the color of the
casket in which it is hidden.

I say "drawn from the veins of her abuser," because she declared she was
his daughter,--and every one in the room, looking upon the man and woman
confronting each other, confessed that the resemblance justified the
assertion.

After the conclusion of all the evidence in the case, the General
continued in the same position as before, and remained for some time
apparently lost in abstraction. I shall never forget the singular
expression on his face.

I had been accustomed to see him in a storm of passion at any instance of
oppression or flagrant injustice; but on this occasion he was too deeply
affected to obtain relief in the usual way.

His whole air was one of dejection, almost listlessness; his indignation
too intense, and his anger too stern, to find expression even in his
countenance.

Never have I seen that peculiar look but on three or four occasions
similar to the one I am narrating, when I knew he was pondering upon the
baleful curse that had cast its withering blight upon all around, until
the manhood and humanity were crushed out of the people, and outrages such
as the above were looked upon with complacency, and the perpetrators
treated as respected and worthy citizens,--and that he was realizing the
great truth, that, however man might endeavor to guide this war to the
advantage of a favorite idea or sagacious policy, the Almighty was
directing it surely and steadily for the purification of our country from
this greatest of national sins.

But to return to my story. After sitting in the mood which I have
described at such length, the General again turned to the prisoner, and
said, in a quiet, subdued tone of voice,--

"Mr. Landry, I dare not trust myself to decide to-day what punishment
would be meet for your offence, for I am in that state of mind that I fear
I might exceed the strict demands of justice. I shall therefore place you
under guard for the present, until I conclude upon your sentence."

A few days after, a number of influential citizens having represented to
the General that Mr. Landry was not only a "high-toned gentleman," but a
person of unusual "AMIABILITY" of character, and was consequently entitled
to no small degree of leniency, he answered, that, in consideration of the
prisoner's "high-toned" character, and especially of his "amiability," of
which he had seen so remarkable a proof, he had determined to meet their
views, and therefore ordered that Landry give a deed of manumission to the
girl, and pay a fine of five hundred dollars, to be placed in the hands of
a trustee for her benefit.

It is the passing through such scenes as I have described, and the
contemplation of the condition to which Slavery has reduced society at the
South, combined with a natural inclination to espouse the cause of the
oppressed, that has placed General Butler in the front rank of the
"Champions of Freedom."

I remember, so long ago as last July, his turning to me, after reading the
story of our sad reverses in Virginia, and remarking that he believed God
was directing the issues of the war for a great purpose, and that only in
so far as we followed His guidance should we be successful. I have heard
him repeat this in effect several times since, and have seen the
conviction growing within his mind deeper and deeper, as events proved its
correctness, down to the present time.

And yet an Episcopal clergyman of New York told me, the other evening,
that General Butler was an Atheist.

* * * * *

General Butler's forbearance and kindness of heart are, I think, well
illustrated in the true history of his controversy with General Phelps
last summer, in regard to the employment of negroes coming within our
lines. His position on that question was at that time somewhat
misunderstood. Indeed, a gentleman observed to me only a short time since,
referring to General Butler's allowing General Phelps to resign, "General
Butler served General Phelps just right."

"So he did," I replied; "but you and I probably differ some in our ideas
of right and wrong."

The case, in brief, was this.

General Phelps--as good a man, as honest and whole-souled a patriot, and
as brave and thorough a soldier as there is in the service--was in command
at Carrolton,--our principal line of defence. The negroes escaping from
the plantations had gathered about his camp to the number of many
hundreds. General Phelps almost immediately initiated steps toward making
them soldiers. The residents, greatly alarmed, or affecting to be, lest
they should soon be the victims of an ungovernable armed mob, addressed
the most urgent remonstrances to General Butler against General Phelps's
proceedings. The General was much perplexed; the Government had not yet
indicated any policy on this important subject, and although I am
satisfied his sympathies were with General Phelps, (the alacrity with
which he soon after organized negro regiments is the best evidence of
this,) he did not feel justified in officially approving his course.
Determined to avoid anything like a bitter opposition to a measure that
his head and heart both told him was intrinsically right, he sought for a
means of compromise. Circumstances soon furnished the opportunity.

The enemy was threatening the city with speedy attack, and it was deemed
of the highest importance to cut away the thick growth of trees in front
of Carrolton for nearly a mile. The General at once ordered General Phelps
to set his negro brigade at this work, and in the order was particular to
quote General Phelps's own opinion, previously delivered, on the necessity
of the project. General Phelps, who was determined that the negroes should
be soldiers or nothing, evasively declined obeying the order. General
Butler then wrote him a letter presenting fresh arguments, showing how
essential it was that the soldiers, who would soon be obliged to defend
the city, should be spared as far as possible from unusual fatigue-duty,
and inclosed a peremptory order for the performance of the work by the
negroes. By the same messenger he also sent a confidential letter, which I
wrote at his dictation, in which, in terms of the warmest friendship and
honest appreciation of General Phelps's exalted courage, sincere
patriotism, and other noble qualities, he begged him not to place himself
in an attitude of hostility to his commanding officer. A more delicate,
generous, or considerate letter I never read; but it was of no avail.
General Phelps persisted in his refusal to obey, and tendered his
resignation. What did General Butler do?

He would have been justified in the arrest and court-martial of General
Phelps, and few men could resist so good an opportunity to assert their
authority; but he knew that General Phelps had been for years the victim
of the Slave Power, until his mind had become so absorbed in detestation
of the institution that he was conscientiously and inexorably opposed to
the slightest step that could even remotely be construed as assisting in
its support. Moreover, General Butler's esteem for General Phelps was deep
and sincere; and those who know the General well will readily understand
how repugnant to his nature is the abrupt change from warm friendship to
open hostility.

But to recur to my question,--What did General Butler do? He simply
forwarded General Phelps's resignation to Washington, with the earnest
request that the Government would proclaim some policy in regard to the
contrabands, and shortly after, learning that the story of an intended
attack on the city at that time was a canard, allowed the matter to drop.
When, a little later, the enrolment of negroes in the United States'
service was in order, where were they so promptly enlisted and equipped as
in the grand old "Department of the Gulf"?

Reading the other day the retaliatory resolutions of the Rebel Congress
recalled to my mind the terrible earnestness with which the General
declared in New Orleans, "For every one of my black soldiers who may be
murdered by their captors, two Rebel soldiers shall hang." And I know he
meant it.

* * * * *

The London "Times" has said that General Butler is a "monster of cruelty,"
devoid of every sentiment of benevolence or tenderness, and the cry has
been taken up and echoed by the press of Continental Europe. Perhaps he
is; but the thirty-four thousand poor people of New Orleans whom he fed
every day refuse to believe it. I could wish that some of these libellers
of his humanity had been in New Orleans to see the character of the crowd
that thronged his office from morning till night. There were persons of
almost every condition and color,--the great majority being poor and
wretched men and women, who brought their every grief and trouble to lay
at the feet of the man whom they believed possessed of the power and the
will to redress every wrong and heal every sorrow. Was it surprising? Did
it look as though they feared his fierce anger and his cruel wrath? Was it
not rather the humble testimony of their instinct that he whose first and
every act in their city was for the amelioration of suffering was the one
to whom they should apply for relief in every woe? And what patience he
exhibited under this great and increasing addition to his official cares!
Unless the complaint or request were frivolous or disloyal, he always
listened respectfully, and then applied the remedy to the wrong, or
carefully explained the means suited to the relief of the distress, and
the proper course for obtaining it.

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