A Belle of the Fifties, Memoirs of Mrs. Clay, of Alabama,
covering Social and Political Life in Washington and the
South, 1853-66, Part 6

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Begin Part 6

        "Whar's dat bureau?" was sure to be the first question.
"Whar all dem drawers what got de money an' de sugar an' de
coffee? God knows I neber see no bureau 't all, an' dat man at de
book-cupboard * talked mighty short ter me, at dat!"

* Desk.

Page 285

        While letting my thoughts linger for a moment on those
dreary days, I cannot refrain from recalling one of the
occasional instances of humane conduct shown us by those placed
in authority over the citizens of Huntsville, associated, as it
is, with a bit of genuine negro blundering. The generosity of Dr.
French, Medical Director, there stationed, toward the family of
our brother, J. Withers Clay, in giving his medical services
freely to them, greatly touched us all. Appreciating his obvious
desire to administer to our wounded spirits a true "oil and
wine," my sister one morning gathered a bunch of fragrant
camomile blossoms, and, calling her ebony feminine de menage to
her, she said, "Take these flowers over to Dr. French and say
Mrs. Clay sends them with her compliments. Tell him that these
camomile blossoms are like the Southern ladies - the more they
are bruised and oppressed the sweeter and stronger they grow!
Now," she added, "tell me, Sally, what are you going to say?"
Sally answered promptly:

        "I'se gwine tell de doctor dat Mis' Mary Clay sont her
compliments an' dese cammile flowers, an' says dey's like de
Southern ladies, de harder you squeezes an' presses 'em de
sweeter dey gits!"

        It is perhaps unnecessary to relate that the message
which reached the kind doctor was put in written form.

Page 286

CHAPTER XXIII
NEWS FROM FORTRESS MONROE

        To minister to my husband's aged parents dulled in some
degree my own alarms, yet the wildest rumours continued to
multiply as to the probably early trial and certainly awful fate
of Mr. Davis and Mr. Clay. Controversies were waging in the
press, both condemning and approving the actions of the Military
Commission in Washington; yet, even in those still early days of
his imprisonment, voices were raised in many localities to
declare Mr. Clay's incapability of the crimes imputed to him. *

        Meantime, reputable men in Canada, who adduced
indubitable proof of the truth of the accusations they made, had
already assailed the characters of the witnesses upon whom the
Bureau of Military Justice so openly relied to convict its
distinguished prisoners - witnesses by whose testimony some had
already perished on the gallows. How true these accusations were
was proved a year later, when, his misdoings exposed on the floor
of the House of Representatives, a self-confessed perjurer,
Conover, the chief reliance of the Bureau of Military Justice,
the chief accuser of my husband, fled the country. At this
dénouement, Representative Rogers openly averred his belief that
the flight of Conover, one of the most audacious of modern
criminals, had been assisted by some one high in authority, in
order to make impossible an investigation into the disgraceful
culpability of the high unknown!

* "It were as easy," wrote one editor, "to suspect General Lee of
duplicity, or General Butler of magnanimity, as to think Mr. Clay
guilty of the crimes imputed to him!"

Page 287

        So early as June 10, 1865, a pamphlet had been printed
and circulated throughout the country by the Rev. Stuart
Robinson, exposing seriatim the "Infamous Perjuries of the Bureau
of the Military Justice." It took the form of a letter to the
Hon. H. H. Emmons, United States District-Attorney at Detroit,
and was quoted, when not printed in full, by many leading
newspapers. Throughout the closely printed pages the paper
presented an exposé of the unworthy character of the most
prominent witnesses on whose testimony the hapless Mrs. Surratt
and her companions had been condemned to the gallows; witnesses,
moreover, who were known to be the accusers of Mr. Davis and Mr.
Clay, who, it was announced, were soon to be tried for complicity
in the murder of the late Federal President. In his pamphlet, Mr.
Robinson did not content himself with refuting the statements
made by the miscreant witnesses. He went further and accused Mr.
Holt (by name), head of the Bureau of Military Justice, of being
particeps criminis with the evil men whose testimony he so
credulously or maliciously employed.

        "If any one supposes," wrote Mr. Robinson, "I have judged
Mr. Holt uncharitably in making him particeps criminis with this
villain" - a notorious witness - "whom he parades and assists in
the work of lying himself out of his previous perjuries by still
more preposterous lies, let him carefully ponder this letter ...
. This is the man whom Judge Advocate Holt, after his perjuries
have been exposed, brings back to the stand and assists in his
attempts to force his lies down the throat of the American
people. Who now," Mr. Robinson continued, "is the base criminal -
Judge Holt, or the men whom he seeks by such base and impudent
perjuries, under the garb of sworn testimony, to defame?"

        Such a brave challenge might well have been expected to
give the Government pause. To the increased agony of our minds,
its agents took no cognisance of Mr. Robinson's

Page 288

fearless exposure, but ignored the protest with its startling
array of charges, which easily might have been verified, and
continued to rely upon its strange allies to assist in the
persecution of its prison victims.

        Instinct with the zeal of the fanatic, and intrenched
behind the bewildered Mr.Johnson, the Head of the Bureau of
Military Justice was indifferent alike to contumely and the
appeals of even the merely just. In so far as the country at
large might see, its Judge Advocate was imperial in his powers.
The legality of the existence of the Bureau had been denied by
the greatest jurists of the times; yet its dominating spirit was
determined, despite the gravest warnings and condemnation, to
railroad, by secret trial, the more distinguished of the
prisoners to the gallows. "Thoughtful men," Reverdy Johnson had
said in his argument in the trial of Mrs. Surratt, "feel
aggrieved that such a Commission should be established in this
free country when the war is over, and when the common law courts
are open and accessible. Innocent parties, sometimes by private
malice, sometimes for a mere partisan purpose, sometimes from a
supposed public policy, have been made the subjects of criminal
accusation. History is full of such instances. How are such
parties to be protected if a public trial be denied them, and a
secret one in whole or in part be substituted?"

        "The Judge Advocate said, in reply to my inquiries," said
Thomas Ewing, "that he would expect to convict under the common
law of war. This is a term unknown to our language, a quiddity
incapable of definition." And, again, "The Judge Advocate, with
whom chiefly rests the fate of these citizens, from his position
cannot be an impartial judge unless he be more than man. He is
the Prosecutor in the most extended sense of the word. As in duty
bound before this court was called, he received the reports of
detectives, pre-examined the witnesses, prepared and officially
signed the charges, and, as principal

Page 289

counsel for the Government, controlled on the trial the
presentation, admission and rejection of evidence. In our courts
of law, a lawyer who heard his client's story, if transferred
from the bar to the bench, may not sit in the trial of the cause,
lest the ermine be sullied through the partiality of the
counsel."

        To our sad household at distant Huntsville, each day,
with its disquieting rumours and reports of these trials, added
to our distress of mind. There was scarcely a man or woman in the
South who did not prophesy that, the popular cry being
"Vengeance," and full military power in the hands of such men as
Stanton and Holt, our former President and Mr. Clay would surely
meet the fate of Mrs. Surratt.

        Under the domination of such knowledge, my condition of
mind was a desperate one. We were nearly a thousand miles removed
from the seat of Government and from my husband's prison. The
Bureau of Military Justice, it was well known, was industriously
seeking to convict its prisoners; while the latter, ignorant even
of the charges against them, and denied the visits of counsel or
friends, were helpless to defend themselves, however easy to
obtain the proof might be. It were impossible for a wife, knowing
her husband to be innocent, and resenting the ignobleness of a
government which would thus refuse to a self-surrendered prisoner
the courtesies the law allows to the lowest of criminals, to rest
passively under conditions so alarming.

        From the moment I stepped upon the soil of Georgia I
renewed my appeals to those in the North of whose regard for my
husband I felt assured. Among the first to respond were Charles
O'Conor, of New York, T. W. Pierce, of Boston, R. J. Haldeman,
and Benjamin Wood, editor and proprietor of the New York Daily
News. Mr. Wood wrote spontaneously:

        "I beg you to have full faith in my desire and exertions

Page 290

to relieve your noble husband from persecution, and to secure for
him a prompt and impartial trial, and consequently an inevitable
acquittal of the charge that has been infamously alleged against
him. I will communicate immediately with Mr. O'Conor, Mr.
Carlisle, Mr. Franklin Pierce, and Judge Black. Let me request
you to accord me the pleasure of advancing to Mr. Clay, until his
liberation, whatever sum may be necessary for the expenses
attendant upon legal action for his defense, as, owing to his
imprisonment and the present unsettled condition of your
neighbourhood, there might be a delay that would prove
prejudicial to his interests."

        "I have no idea he will be brought to trial," wrote Mr.
Pierce, on June 16th "as the evidence on which the Government
relies is a tissue of wicked fabrication, from the perjured lips
of the lowest upon the earth! No one who knows him (Mr. Clay) can
for a moment believe him guilty or even capable of crime. I have
written to Judge Black and requested him to make effort to have
you come to the North. I hope your application to Judge Holt *
will secure for you this liberty."

        Mr. O'Conor's letter ran as follows:

                                        "NEW YORK, June 29, 1865.

        "My Dear Madam: I do not believe that any attempt will be
made to try Mr. Clay or any other of the leading Southern
gentlemen on the charge of complicity in the assassination ** of
Lincoln.

        "Such of them as have, through mistaken confidence in the
magnanimity of their enemies, surrendered themselves into
custody, may be obliged to suffer imprisonment, until it shall be
determined, as a matter of policy, whether they ought to be tried
for treason ... .

* Neither this application, nor any communication sent by Mrs.
Clay to Judge Holt, met with the recognition of acknowledgment.
A. S.

** A reference to Holt's Report, dated December 8, 1865, will
show how little either Mr. Pierce or this great legal light
apprehended the audacity of the inquisitorial Military
Commission, of which the Secretary of War and Joseph Holt made
two. A. S.

Page 291

        "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. *

        "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

* Several years later Mr. Stevens reiterated these statements to
one of the editors of the New York Tribune, who again quoted Mr.
Stevens's remarks in an able editorial. A. S.

Page 292

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. * is at hand.

*The letter reads "ult.," but, being obviously an error, is here
changed. A. S.

Page 293

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.

Page 294

                      "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

Page 295

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

Page 296

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,

Page 297

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 * 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

* Copies of those addressed by Mr. Clay to the Secretary of War
and to President Johnson. A. S.

Page 298

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 * 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

* Dr. Craven was already in communication with Dr. Withers, of
Petersburg, Va., Mr. Clay's cousin, who, through the courtesy of
his fellow-practitioner, was enabled to contribute occasionally
to Mr. Clay's comfort and welfare. A. S.

Page 299

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.

        "If you come North," he wrote, on August 21st "you must
come with a brave heart, my dear 'Ginie ... prepared to hear
much to wound you, and to meet with coldness and incivility where
you once received kindness and courtesy. Some will offend you
with malice, some unwittingly and from mere habit, and some even
through a sense of duty. Many religionists have, doubtless, found
pleasure and felt they were doing God service in persecuting
heretics. If rudely repulsed, remember, in charity, that such is
human nature. The Jewish priests drove off the lepers with
stones..."

Page 300

CHAPTER XXIV
AGAIN IN WASHINGTON

        BY September I had reopened correspondence with many
Washington friends. As will have been seen by a perusal of
certain preceding letters, the question of giving me permission
to return to the capital already had been broached to the
President and Secretary of War, by Judge Black and others. It was
now again brought to the attention of Mr. Johnson, by Mr. Duff
Green, a longtime friend of ex-Governor Clay, of my husband, and
of the President's. It was the first application of all that had
been sent to the Government to bring a response. The Executive's
reply was couched as follows:

        "I am directed by the President to say that an
application for permission to visit Washington, made by Mrs. C.
C. Clay, Jr., over her own name, will be considered by him.

                                                       R. MORROW,
                                 "Major and A. A. G., Secretary."

        In forwarding this communication to me, Mr. Green wrote:

        "We think there is nothing to prevent your coming at
once. To wait for permission may delay you weeks, and perhaps
months. Your coming would not prejudice either yourself or your
husband, and you can do more by a personal application to the
President than by an application 'over your own name.' "

        Two months dragged by, however, ere I could complete
arrangements for the journey and detach myself from our clinging
parents, who, deprived of all of their other children, now placed
their dependence upon me. Notwithstanding

Page 301

their hearts ached for some assurance of Mr. Clay's safety, they
were ill-disposed to look upon my projected trip with favour.
Huntsville was in complete subjugation to the Federal
representatives. We had numerous reasons to realise the pitiless
and cruel policy that had been inaugurated by our conquerors, and
few to lead us to look for kinder things at the hands of the
powers at Washington. The reports that reached us of the
treatment accorded to those Southerners who had already proceeded
to the capital, even allowing for the prejudice of editors
unfriendly to us, were not of a kind to encourage a hope for
clemency or justice there. The efforts of the wives of other
prisoners to communicate with their husbands, their applications
to the Government to grant them the right of trial, not only had
been of no avail, but, in some instances, had made them the
direct objects of attack from those inimical to them. "I have had
a weary time," one wrote late in October, "but of that, if you
knew how weary, you would cry out 'No more an' you love me,'
rather than bear the infliction of the retrospect, so I will not
torment you." ... President Johnson's remarks to the South
Carolina Delegation, concerning Mrs. Davis's efforts, became the
talk of the country. I was astonished when I learned that she had
never written a line without consultation with Mr. Schley and
his, in turn, consulting General Steedman upon the tenor of her
letters, and receiving the approval of both on the manner of
presenting the subject. It was the old fable of the lamb whose
grandfather muddied the stream.

        Such news served further to convince my husband's parents
of the futility of the trip I was contemplating. They urged that
I would be attacked on every side so soon as I entered the
Federal capital; they pleaded, too, alas! the stringency of our
present means, a very vital objection just then to us whose every
possession had either been "confiscated" or otherwise rendered
useless

Page 302

to us. Nevertheless, every moment anxiety was consuming me. I
resolved to act while I had the strength, and made known my
resolve to our parents.

        The middle of November had arrived ere, by the aid of Mr.
Robert Herstein, a kindly merchant of Huntsville ("may his tribe
increase"), who advanced me $100 in gold (and material for a silk
gown, to be made when I should reach my destination), I was
enabled to begin my journey to the capital. Under the escort of a
kind friend and neighbour, Major W. H. Echols, of Huntsville,
who, having in mind the securing of a certain patent, arranged
his plans so as to accompany me to Washington, I bade father and
mother "good-bye" and stepped aboard the train. My heart
sometimes beat high with hope, yet, at others, I trembled at what
I might encounter. Fortunately for the preservation of my
courage, I had no forewarning that I had looked, for the last
time, upon the sorrowful face of our mother. Her closing words,
in that heartbreaking farewell, were of hope that I would soon
return bringing with me her dearest son. With the desire to cheer
them both, I wrote back merrily as I proceeded on my way; but,
indeed, I had small need to affect a spirit of buoyancy; for,
from the beginning, I was the recipient of innumerable kindnesses
from fellow-travellers who learned my identity. In many instances
my fare was refused by friendly railroad conductors.

        "I have paid literally nothing thus far," I wrote from
Louisville, Kentucky, which city I reached early in the morning
of November 15th. "At Nashville," my letter added, "we took
sleeping cars, which were as luxurious as the bed that now
invites me. I had, however, an amusing, and, at first blush, an
alarming nocturnal adventure. I was waked by the rattling of
paper at my head, and, half unconsciously putting out my hand, it
lighted on the hairy back of some animal! I sprang

Page 303

out of bed, raised the curtain, and there sat, in the corner of
my berth, the most monstrous coon you ever saw! The black around
his eyes at first made him appear like an owl, but he proved to
be a genuine old 'zip coon.' So I got out one of 'Mammy 'Ria's'
nice biscuit, which have been greatly complimented by my friends,
and asked him please to come out of my bed and eat some supper.
But he wouldn't! And I had to wake Major Echols in the
gentlemen's apartment, who forcibly ejected him after a good
laugh at me!"

        A day later and we reached Cincinnati, where, owing to
the late arrival of the boat, the St. Nicholas, on which we had
travelled from Louisville, through banks of fog, we were delayed
some twelve hours. Our trip on this river steamer was, in its
way, a kind of triumphal progress, very reassuring to me at that
critical moment. As I wrote back to father, "We found the captain
a good Southerner and a noble old fellow! Had one son in the
Federal Army and lost one at Shiloh! Mr. Hughes, of the
Louisville Democrat, was aboard; he said his paper had been
suppressed, but he would now be permitted to go South. He is a
rabid secessionist, and promised to copy the News * articles
concerning my husband." On board, too, was Mrs. Gamble, of
Louisville, a wealthy woman whose name was associated with
innumerable kindnesses to our soldiers, and generous gifts to our
cause. She was a sad woman, but sympathised greatly with Mr.
Davis and Mr. Clay, and begged that upon my return from
Washington we would make our home with her "until better times."

        Upon learning the length of time we must spend in
Cincinnati, I went at once to the Spencer House, whence I wrote
and immediately despatched notes to my old friends, Mrs. George
E. Pugh, wife of the ex-Senator, and to Senator and Mrs. George
H. Pendleton (the first a

* New York Daily News.

Page 304

resident of the city, the last-named residents of Clifton, a
suburb), telling them of my unexpected presence in the city, and
hoping to see them during the day. On my way to the hotel, I had
looked about the city with increasing interest and pleasure. How
different it was from our devastated country!

        "You never saw the like of the fruit!" I wrote
enthusiastically to mother. "Grapes, oranges, apples; such
varieties of nuts - cream, hazel, hickory, and English walnuts -
as are on the beautiful stall just at the entrance of the hotel!
The Major has just entered, laughing heartily at Yankee tricks
and Yankee notions! He says a man said to him, 'Insure your life,
sir?'

        " 'For what?' says the Major.

        " 'For ten cents!' replies the man. 'And if you are
killed on the cars, your family gets $3,000 cash!'

        " 'Three thousand?' rejoins Major Echols, contemptuously.
'What's that to a man worth a million!' at which all stare as if
shot. I laugh, too, but tell him I fear we will be made to pay
for his fun, if they think us millionaires!"

        The day was half gone when dear Mrs. Pugh, only a few
years ago the triumphant beauty of the Pierce and Buchanan
administrations, but now a pale, saddened woman, clad in deep
mourning, appeared. God! what private sorrows as well as national
calamities had filled in the years since we had separated in
Washington! The pathos of her appearance opened a very flood-gate
of tears, which I could not check. But Mrs. Pugh shed none. She
only put out a restraining hand to me.

        "No tears now, I beg of you. I can't endure it. Tell me
of yourself, of your plans. Where are you going? What of Mr.
Clay? How can I aid you?" she asked, turning away all discussion
save as to the object of my journey.

        The afternoon was already nearly spent when Senator

Page 305

and Mrs. Pendleton arrived, having driven in from their suburban
home upon the receipt of my note, sent at midday. Their welcome
was cordial and frank as in the old days. They had come to take
me home to dinner, where, they assured me, we might talk more
freely than at the hotel. They would take no refusal, but agreed
with Major Echols, who was unable to accompany us, to see me
safely to the station in ample time to take the midnight train
for Washington. In the hours that followed, I learned somewhat of
the experiences in the North, during the bloody strife of the
four years just closed, of Southern sympathisers, even where
their sympathy was restrained from announcing itself by an open
espousal. Senator Pendleton's known friendliness for Clement L.
Vallandigham, whose fearlessness and outspoken zeal in our behalf
had cost him so dearly, had brought its own penalties. At times,
he told me, when feeling ran highest, neither his home nor that
of Senator Pugh had escaped certain malodorous missiles of the
lawless!

        We spent much of the evening in scanning the problems
that lay before me. I told my host of the numbers of brilliant
men who had volunteered their aid to Mr. Clay, mentioning among
others the name of Judge Hughes, of Washington, whose friendly
proffer of counsel had reached me just previous to my departure
from Huntsville.

        "By all means," said Senator Pendleton, as we drove at
last to the station, "see Judge Hughes first! He is strictly non-
partisan, is a friend of the President's, and, moreover, is under
obligations to Mr. Clay, which I know he would gladly repay!"


        It was already a late hour when we rejoined the waiting
Major Echols. With a warm "God bless you, dear friend!" Senator
and Mrs. Pendleton bade me "goodbye," and I stepped aboard the
train for Washington.

Page 306

What that name called up, what my thoughts were, or what my
sensations, as I realised our approach to the city once so
attractive, but now seeming to represent to me a place of
oppression and the prison in which for six months Mr. Clay had
been incarcerated, may better be imagined than described. Early
the following morning our train began to thread its way through
familiar country. By mid-day we had reached war-scarred Harper's
Ferry, and passed over into old Virginia! A short journey now,
and I found myself once more driving up Pennsylvania Avenue in
the company of tried friends, en route to Willard's.

Page 307

CHAPTER XXV
SECRETARY STANTON DENIES RESPONSIBILITY

        FROM the hour of my arrival in the capital, Friday,
November 17th, my misgivings gave place to courage. I went
directly to Willard's, which, being near the Executive Mansion
and the War Department, and my purse very slender, I believed
would save me hack hire. I had scarcely registered when General
Clingman called. He was followed shortly by Senators Garland and
Johnson, of Arkansas, the vanguard of numerous friends, who
within a few hours came to extend their sympathies and wishes for
the success of my mission. During that first day I sent a note to
Colonel Johnson, Mr. Johnson's Secretary, asking for an interview
with the President at the earliest possible date. To my great
relief of mind, within a few hours there came an answer, telling
me the President would see me the following Wednesday!

        For the next few days I knew no moment alone. The list of
callers noted in my small diary necessarily was but partial, yet
even that is wonderfully long. Among them, to my surprise and
somewhat to my mystification, were General Ihrie, Major Miller
and Colonel Ayr of Grant's staff. Their friendliness amazed me. I
could imagine no reason why they should call. General Ihrie,
moreover, assured me of his chief's kind feeling toward my
husband, and advised me to see the Lieutenant-General at an early
date.

        The Sunday after my arrival, callers began to arrive
before breakfast, the first being Colonel Ogle Tayloe, bearing an
invitation from Mrs. Tayloe to dinner the

Page 308

following evening. Before church hour had arrived, dear old Mr.
Corcoran came, intending to give me welcome on his way to St.
John's. He forgot to leave again until services were over, and
others returning from church crowded in. Mr. Corcoran's manner
was full of the old-time charm, as he bade me good-bye at last;
and, as he took my hand in parting, he said, "You've not
forgotten the little white house round the corner?" (referring to
the banking-house of Riggs & Corcoran).

        "No," I answered, smiling sadly, "You are my bankers
still, but, alas! where are my deposits?"

        Mr. Corcoran's glance was full of kindness. Laying his
hand upon his heart, he replied, "They are here, my friend!" and
he pressed my hand reassuringly.

        I remember that Sunday as one in which tears of gratitude
rose to my eyes again and again, until at last I exclaimed, "It
is all very strange to me! There appears to be none of my
husband's enemies here! It seems to me as if everyone is his
friend!"

        The following morning, however, I had an experience
calculated to arouse in me a feeling somewhat less secure. I was
still in the bath when a tap came at my door.

        "A lady wishes to see you," was the reply to my question.

        "Who is she?" I asked.

        "Don't know, ma'am. She wouldn't give her name!"

        "Very well," I answered. "Explain to her that I am
dressing; that unless her business is imperative, I would prefer
to have her call later."

        In a few moments I heard light tapping again. Upon my
inquiry, a name was whispered through the keyhole, which I
recognised as that of the wife of a well-known public official. I
at once admitted her. The purpose of her visit was a peculiar
one. She had come to warn me of the presence in the city of James
Montgomery, alias Thompson, one of the hireling witnesses

Page 309

whose "testimony" against Mr. Davis and Mr. Clay had been
registered with the Bureau of Military Justice. By some
unfortunate connection of her own family with this miscreant, my
visitor had learned that Montgomery, upon hearing of my object in
visiting Washington, had been heard to make a threat of violence
against me. The lady, who shall continue to be nameless, was so
convinced some harm threatened me that she begged me to promise
that while in the capital I would go armed, and especially be
cautious with unknown callers. Montgomery, she added, was likely
to disguise himself; but, further to aid me in guarding against
some injury at his hands, she had brought with her a photograph
of the wretched man. Whether or not some crime was projected
against me by this man I never knew, but the wild nature of the
times warranted me in exercising, thereafter, a prudence which
otherwise would not have occurred to me. I took counsel with
friends, and, with one exception, later to be mentioned, no
occurrence during my stay in the capital served to arouse in me a
further apprehension from that quarter.

        In the days that intervened until my appointment with the
President, my hours were spent in advantageous interviews with
Judge Hughes, of Hughes & Denver, with Judge Black, Senator
Garland, Frederick A. Aiken and others, during which I gleaned
much knowledge of what had transpired since my husband's
incarceration, and of the public feeling concerning the
distinguished prisoners at Fortress Monroe, whose trials had been
so mysteriously postponed. It was now six months since the
imprisonment of Messrs. Davis and Clay; but in so far as might be
learned, definite charges against them had not yet been filed at
the War Department. On every side I heard it declared that the
situation was unprecedented in English or American jurisprudence.
Leading lawyers of the country were ready and eager to appear in
the

Page 310

prisoners' behalf, but every effort made by friends to see them
thus far had been futile. In those first weeks, reiterated
proffers of legal aid continued to reach me daily from
distinguished quarters.

        Upon my arrival in the capital I had put myself at once
into communication with Judge Hughes, as advised by Senator
Pendleton. His kindness was unceasing, not only in the matter of
legal advice to guide me through the intricacies of my
undertaking, but in his generous placing at my disposal his
horses and carriages, and the services of his coachman and
footman. Mrs. Hughes was absent in the West, and the hospitality
of their home, therefore, was barred; but all that a thoughtful
nature could suggest was done by the Judge to facilitate success
in my mission.

        From the first, too, Judge Jeremiah S. Black, ex-
Attorney-General, and Secretary of State under President
Buchanan, with whom I now became, for the first time, personally
acquainted, proved a bulwark of sympathy that thereafter never
failed my husband and self. He was a peculiar man in appearance,
with shaggy brows, deep-set eyes, and a cavernous mouth, out of
which invincible arguments rolled that made men listen. This
feature was large when he spoke, but when he laughed, the top of
his head fell back like a box cover, and looked as if it must
drop over the other way. Happily for the unfortunate, his heart
was modelled on a scale as large, and for months he gave his time
and advice unstintedly to me.

        On the Wednesday appointed by the President, accompanied
by Judge Hughes, I proceeded to keep my appointment at the White
House. One of the first familiar faces I saw as I entered was
that of Mrs. Stephen A. Douglas, now widowed. A wait of some
moments being imminent, with the affectionate warmth so well-
known to me in other and happier days, Mrs. Douglas at

Page 311

once volunteered to accompany me in my call upon "the good
President," and in a few moments we were shown into his presence.
Mr. Johnson received us civilly, preserving, at first, what I
learned afterward to know was an habitual composure, though he
softened somewhat under the ardent appeal of Mrs. Douglas when
she urged upon him the granting of my request.

        My first impression of the President, who, while a
Senator, in the fifties, had seldom been seen in social
gatherings in the capital, was that of a man upon whom greatness,
of a truth, had been thrust; a political accident, in fact. His
hands were small and soft; his manner was self-contained, it is
true, but his face, with "cheeks as red as June apples," was not
a forceful one.

        From the beginning, as Judge Black had declared he would
do, Mr. Johnson clearly wished to shirk the responsibility of my
husband's case, and to throw it upon the shoulders of his
Secretary of War. His non-committal responses to my reasons why I
should have access to my husband, why he should be tried or
liberated, disheartened me greatly. When Mrs. Douglas perceived
this, she added her pleadings to mine, and, as the President's
shiftiness became more and more apparent, she burst into tears,
and, throwing herself down on her knees before him, called upon
me to follow her example. This, however, I could not comply with.
I had no reason to respect the Tennesseean before me. That he
should have my husband's life in his power was a monstrous wrong,
and a thousand reasons why it was wrong flashed through my mind
like lightning as I measured him, searing it as they passed. My
heart was full of indignant protest that such an appeal as Mrs.
Douglas's should have been necessary; but that, having been made,
Mr. Johnson could refuse it, angered me still more. I would not
have knelt to him even to save a precious life. This first,
memorable one of many, unhappy

Page 312

scenes at the White House, ended by the President inviting me to
call again after he had consulted his Cabinet. At the same time
he urged me to see Mr. Stanton.

        "I think you had best go to him," he said. "This case 
comes strictly within the jurisdiction of the Secretary of War,
and I advise you to see him!"

        Realising the futility of further argument with Mr.
Johnson at the time, I followed his advice, going almost
immediately, and alone, to the War Department. It was my first
and last visit to Secretary Stanton, in that day of the
Government's chaos, autocrat of all the United States and their
citizens. Varying accounts of that experience have appeared in
the press during the last thirty-seven years. The majority of
them have exaggerated the iron Secretary's treatment of me. Many
have accused him of a form of brusque brutality, * which, while
quite in keeping with his reputation, nevertheless was not
exhibited toward me.

        The Secretary of War was not guilty of "tearing up in my
face and throwing in the waste-basket," as one writer has
averred, the President's note of introduction, which I bore him,
even though I was a declared "Rebel" and the wife of a so-called
conspirator and assassin. He was simply inflexibly austere and
pitiless.

        Upon arriving at the War Department, I gave my card and
the President's note to the messenger in waiting, which, from
across the room, I saw handed to the Secretary. He glanced at
them, laid them on the desk at which

* To pass by less irreproachable witnesses, the following
incident illustrative of Mr. Stanton's brusquerie to women was
told by the Reverend Elisha Dyer. "While sitting in Mr. Stanton's
private office, a well-dressed lady entered. She was rather
young, and very captivating. Approaching the Secretary, she said,
'Excuse me, but I must see you!' My old friend at once assumed
the air of a bear. In a stern voice he said, 'Madam, you have no
right to come into this of office, and you must leave it! No,
Madam,' he continued, when she tried to speak, 'not one word!'
And, calling an orderly, he said, 'Take this woman out!' " A. S.

Page 313

he sat, and continued in conversation with a lady who stood
beside him. In a second the messenger returned, and desired me to
take a seat on a sofa, which, as it happened, was directly in
line with Mr. Stanton's desk. In a few moments the lady with whom
he had been in conversation withdrew. As she passed me I
recognised her. She was Mrs. Kennedy, daughter of ex- Secretary
Mallory, then a prisoner in Fort Lafayette. Her face was flushed
and very sad, which I interpreted (and rightly, as it proved) as
meaning that her request had been denied. The sight filled me
with indignation. I resolved at once to retain my seat and let
the Secretary seek me, as a gentleman should do. I was
strengthened in this determination by the conviction that he
would ignore my plea also, and I was resolved to yield him no
double victory.

        After a delay of a few moments, in which the Secretary
adjusted first his glasses and then his papers, he slowly
approached me, saying, "This is Mrs. Clay, I presume?"

        "And this Mr. Stanton?" I replied.

        I at once briefly, but bravely, proceeded with my story.
I told him that my object in visiting Washington was to obtain
the speedy release of my husband, who was dying hourly under the
deprivations and discipline of prison life; or, failing this, to
obtain for him an early trial, which he desired not to shirk, but
to hasten; of the result of which we had no fear, unless "he be
given up to that triumvirate called the 'Military Bureau of
Justice,' of which you are one, Mr. Stanton!" This I said with
inward trembling and with eyes brimming, but looking him fully in
the face. His own gaze fell.

        "Madam," he answered. "I am not your husband's judge -"

        "I know it!" I interrupted. "And I am thankful for it;
and I would not have you for his accuser!"

        "Neither am I his accuser!" he continued. I could

Page 314

scarcely believe I had heard him aright. His manner was gravely
polite. I remember thinking at that moment, "Can this be the rude
man of whom I have heard? Can I have been misinformed about him?"

        "Thank you, Mr. Stanton, for those words," I said. "I had
not hoped to hear them from you. I thought you were the bitterest
of my husband's enemies! I assure you your words give me fresh
hope! I will tell the President at once of this cheering
interview!"

        At these expressions Mr. Stanton seemed somewhat
confused. I wondered whether he would modify or recall his words.
He did not, however, and thanking him again for even that
concession, I withdrew.

        The legal friends to whom I gave an account of this
conversation were less confident as to its significance. If Mr.
Stanton was neither Mr. Clay's judge nor accuser, who was? Some
one was surely responsible for his detention; some one with the
power to obstruct justice was delaying the trial, which the first
legal minds in the country for months had sought to bring about.
If not Mr. Stanton, could it be Mr. Holt, whose name was already
become one of abhorrence among the majority of Southerners? Judge
Black felt sure it was. But accusation against the Judge Advocate
General without proof was impolitic, with my husband's safety
still in the balance. In a situation so serious as the present, I
should have preferred to conciliate him.

        "Have you tried to interest Judge Holt in your husband's
behalf?" wrote our old friend ex-Speaker Orr. "Would not some
little kind memory of the past steal over him when you revive the
morning reminiscences of the Ebbitt House, when his much-adored
wife was a shining luminary in that bright circle? He would be
more or less than man if such a picture did not move him. Will
you try it?"

        Great, indeed, was Mr. Orr's surprise when he learned

Page 315

that I had written to Mr. Holt three times, only to meet with
complete silence at his hands!

        Under such circumstances it was wiser to adhere to my
first purpose; namely, to sue for the privilege of seeing Mr.
Clay and for his release on parole, or for a speedy trial. I was
urged by Judge Black not to cease in my appeals to the President;
to tell the Executive of my interview with his Secretary of War,
and in the meantime to secure from General Grant, if possible, a 
letter to the President, advocating my plea. I had already been
assured by General Ihrie of his chief's ability and willingness
to serve me. On the evening of the second Sunday after my arrival
in Washington, therefore, I drove from Willard's at seven
o'clock, accompanied by Major Echols, to Lieutenant-General
Grant's headquarters in Georgetown. I found these to be
established in what was formerly the home of our friend Mr.
Alfred Scott, * of Alabama, now deceased. Soldiers guarded the
entrance, as became a military headquarters, and one came forward
to take my card as we drove up. Upon his return, Major Echols and
I were shown at once to the General's reception parlour.
Dismissing the officers in uniform who stood about, General Grant
received me courteously, tendering his hand frankly. I at once
presented Major Echols, saying that "my friend, like yourself, is
a graduate of West Point; but, feeling bound to offer his
allegiance to his native South, he had served with distinction at
Fort Sumter," which introduction, I imagined, pleased the
General, though it disconcerted my modest escort.

        I now briefly, and in some trepidation at finding myself
face to face with the "Hero of the Hour!" the "Coming Man," "Our
next President" (for by these and many other titles was the hero
of Appomattox already crowned), explained as succinctly as I
could my motive in calling

* Mr. Scott's daughter is the wife of the widely known Dr.
Garnett, of Hot Springs, Arkansas.

Page 316

upon him, closing my remarks with the assurance that the one
circumstance prompting me to ask his aid was not his army
victories, but his noble conduct to our beloved General Lee in
his recent surrender. I was convinced, I added, that the man who
had borne himself so magnanimously toward a brave soldier whom he
had vanquished, possessed the soul to espouse and sustain a
cause, if just, though all the world opposed. It was in this
faith I had come to him.

        The Federal General listened very gravely. When I had
finished he responded in his characteristic, quiet way: "If it
were in my power, Mrs. Clay, I would to-morrow open every prison
in the length and breadth of the land. I would release every
prisoner unless -" (after a pause) "unless Mr. Davis might be
detained awhile to satisfy public clamour. Your husband's manly
surrender entitles him to all you ask. I admire and honour him
for it, and anything I can say or do to assist you shall be done.
I heartily wish you success."

        I asked him, in the course of our conversation, if he
would go with me to the White House the next day, at any hour,
day or evening.

        "That is impossible," he said. "I leave at midnight for
Richmond."

        "Would you be willing to write what you have spoken?"

        "With pleasure!" he replied. Going to the door he called,
"Julia!"

        In a moment Mrs. Grant entered the room. She shook my
hand with the cordiality of a friend, saying, as she did so, "We
have many mutual friends in St. Louis." She then expressed her
deep sympathy for me, and hoped her husband could serve me with
the President.

        In a few moments General Grant returned with the promised
letter. I thanked him from a grateful heart. Upon rising to go,
he accompanied me half down the steps, where, with a hearty shake
of the hand, we parted.

Page 317

CHAPTER XXVI
MR. HOLT REPORTS UPON THE CASE OF C. C. CLAY, JR.

        ARMED with General Grant's letter, my hopes at once rose
high. It seemed to my eager and innocent mind that an ally so
really great could not fail to convince the President and his
Cabinet of the wisdom of granting my plea in whole or in part. I
began to feel that the culmination of my husband's troubles was
now approaching. I hastened to send the letter to Mr. Johnson. It
read as follows:

                                WASHINGTON, D. C., Nov. 26, 1865.

"His Excellency A. JOHNSON,
"President of the United States.
        "Sir: As it has been my habit heretofore to intercede for
the release of all prisoners who I thought could safely be left
at large, either on parole or by amnesty, I now respectfully
recommend the release of Mr. C. C. Clay.

        "The manner of Mr. Clay's surrender, I think, is a full
guarantee that if released on parole, to appear when called for,
either for trial or otherwise, that he will be forthcoming.

        "Argument, I know, is not necessary in this or like
cases, so I will simply say that I respectfully recommend that C.
C. Clay, now a State prisoner, be released on parole, not to
leave the limits of his State without your permission, and to
render himself to the civil authorities for trial whenever called
on to do so.

        "I do not know that I would make a special point of
fixing the limits to a State only, but at any future time the
limits could be extended to the whole United States, as well as
if those limits were given at once.

        "I have the honour to be,

                       "Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
                   (Signed ) "U. S. GRANT, Lieutenant General." *

*The letter here given is from a copy furnished Mrs. Clay by
Robert Morrow, Secretary in 1866.

Page 318

        In my note accompanying the General's recommendation, I 
begged to repeat my request that I be allowed to visit Mr. Clay
at Fortress Monroe, and that I be furnished with copies of the
charges against him, in order that I might consult with him as to
the proper means to disprove them, in the event of his being
brought to trial. After a two days' silence on the part of the
Executive, I wrote a note of inquiry to Mr. Johnson. The reply
that reached me was not calculated to stimulate my erstwhile
hopefulness.

        "I cannot give you any reply to your note of this inst.,"
wrote Colonel Robert Johnson, on the 30th of November, "except
that the President has the letter of General Grant. No action has
yet been had. I will bring the matter before the President during
the day, and will advise you."

        And now, indeed, I began to be aware how all-powerful was
the hidden force that opposed the taking of any action on my
husband's case. Again and again thereafter I called upon
President Johnson, pleading at first for his intervention on my
behalf; but, upon the third visit, when he again suggested that I
"see Mr. Stanton," I could refrain no longer from an outburst of
completest indignation. I was accompanied on this and on almost
all my innumerable later visits to the White House by Mrs.
Bouligny, who witnessed, I fear, many an astonishing passage at
arms between President Johnson and me. On the occasion just
touched upon, aroused by Mr. Johnson's attempt to evade the
granting of my request, I answered him promptly:

        "I will not go to Mr. Stanton, Mr. President! You issued
the proclamation charging my husband with crime! You are the man
to whom I look for redress!"

        "I was obliged to issue it," Mr. Johnson replied, "to
satisfy public clamour. Your husband's being in Canada while
Surratt and his associates were there made it

Page 319

necessary to name him and his companions with the others!"

        "And do you believe, for one moment, that my husband
would conspire against the life of President Lincoln?" I burst
out indignantly. "Do you, who nursed the breast of a Southern
mother, think Mr. Clay could be guilty of that crime?"

        Mr. Johnson disclaimed such a belief at once.

        "Then, on what grounds do you detain one whom you believe
an innocent man, and a self-surrendered prisoner?" I asked.

        But here the President, as he did in many instances
throughout those long and, to me, most active days in the
capital, resorted to his almost invariable habit of evading
direct issues; yet it was not long ere I was given reason to feel
that he, personally, sincerely wished to serve me, though often
appearing to be but an instrument in the hands of more forceful
men, whom he lacked the courage to oppose, and who were directly
responsible for my husband's detention. Before the end of
December the President gave me a valuable and secret proof that
his sympathies were with rather than against Mr. Clay.

        Until the sixth of December, nearly seven months after my
husband's surrender, no formal charges had been filed against him
with a view to placing him on trial, or on which to base his
continued imprisonment. During that time, the visits of counsel
being denied him, there was not in the capital one who was
vitally concerned in his or Mr. Davis's case, though certain
unique aspects of the cases of the two distinguished prisoners of
the Government had invited a more or less continuous professional
interest in them.

        At the time of my reappearance in Washington, though the
city was filled with distinguished pardon-seekers, and with
Southerners who had been summoned on various

Page 320

grounds, to explain their connection with the late Confederate
States' Government, interest in the prisoners at Fortress Monroe
became quickened. The Legislature of the State of Alabama drew up
and forwarded a memorial to the President, asking for Mr. Clay's
release. Prominent lawyers besides those whose letters I have
quoted wrote volunteering their aid, Senator Garland, Mr.
Carlisle, and Frederick A. Aiken, counsel for Mrs. Surratt, among
them. Through Mr. Aiken, already familiar with the means employed
by the Military Commission to convict their prisoners, I gained
such information as was then available as to the probable charges
which would be made against Mr. Clay.

        "I send you the argument of Assistant Judge Advocate
General Bingham, in the Surratt trial," he wrote on November
25th... "This argument has been distributed broadcast over the
country, and the opinion of the Republican party educated to
think it true! It seems to me," he added, "that a concisely
written argument in favour of Mr. Clay, on the evidence as it
stands, would be useful with the President."

        In the midst of this awakening of our friends on Mr.
Clay's behalf, the Government's heretofore (from me) concealed
prosecutor, Mr. Holt, presented to the War Department his long-
delayed and elaborately detailed "Report on the case of C. C.
Clay, Jr." On the face of it, his action at this time appeared
very much like an effort to checkmate any influence my presence
might awaken on the prisoner's behalf. Upon learning of this
movement I at once applied to the War Department for an
opportunity to examine the Report. It was not accorded me. After
some days, learning of Mr. Stanton's absence from the city, and
acting on the suggestion of Mr. Johnson, on the 20th of December
I addressed Mr. Holt by letter for the third and last time. I
asked for a copy of the charges against my husband, and also for
the return

Page 321

of my private correspondence, which had been taken from me, in
part, at Macon, and part from my home in Huntsville. Days passed
without the least acknowledgment from the Judge Advocate.

        It was at this juncture that Mr. Johnson's friendliness
was exhibited toward me; for, happening to call upon him while
the document was in his hands, I told him of my ill success and 
growing despair at the obstacles that were presented to the
granting of my every request at the War Department. * I begged
him to interpose and assist me to an interview with Mr. Clay,
but, above all, at this important moment, to aid me in getting a
copy of the charges now formulated against him. Thereupon,
exacting from me a promise of complete secrecy, the President
delivered his official copy of the "Report" into my hands, that I
might peruse it and make such excerpts as would aid me. I did
more than this, however; for, hastening back with it to the home
of Mrs. A. S. Parker, which had been generously thrown open to
me, I spent the night in copying the document in full.

        The list of accusations against my husband was long. It
represented "testimony" which the Bureau of Military Justice had
spent six months, and, as later transpired, many thousands of
dollars, in collecting, and was a digest of the matter sworn to
in the Judge Advocate's presence.

* For months Mr. Holt's Report was steadily refused to the
public. Referring to this secretive conduct, in July, 1866, A. J.
Rogers said, in the House of Representatives, "Secrecy has
surrounded and shrouded, not to say protected, every step of
these examinations. In the words of the late Attorney General,
'Most of the evidence upon which they [the charges] are based was
obtained ex parte, without notice to the accused, and whilst they
were in custody in military prisons. Their publication might
wrong the Government.'... The Secretary of War, February 7,
1866, writes to the President that the publication of the Report
of the Judge Advocate General is incompatible with the public
interests. This report," continues Mr. Rogers, "in the testimony
it quotes, will show that the interests of the country would
never have suffered by the dispensing with illegal secrecy, but
that the interests and fame of the Judge Advocate General himself
would suffer in the eyes of all the truth-loving and justice-
seeking people on earth." A. S.

Page 322

As I read and copied on during that night, the reason for Mr.
Holt's persistent disregard of my letters became obvious. No
official, no man who, for months, against the protests of some of
the most substantial citizens, the most brilliant lawyers of the
country, had been so determinedly engaged in secret effort to
prove a former friend and Congressional associate to be deserving
of the gallows, could be expected to do anything but to avoid a
meeting with the wife of his victim. In December, 1860, when Mr.
Clay's position as a Secessionist was known to be unequivocal,
Mr. Holt, whose personal convictions were then somewhat less
clearly declared, had written, on the occasion of my husband's
illness, "It is my earnest prayer that a life adorned by so many
graces may be long spared to our country, whose councils so need
its genius and patriotism!" In December, 1865, basing his charges
against his former friend - a former United States Senator, whose
integrity had never suffered question; a man religious to the
point of austerity; a scholar, of delicate health and
sensibilities, and peculiarly fastidious in the selection of
those whom he admitted to intimacy -, Mr. Holt, I repeat, basing
his accusations against such a one-time friend upon the purchased
testimony of social and moral outcasts, designated Mr. Clay in
terms which could only be regarded as the outspurting of venomous
malice, or of a mind rendered incapable of either logic or truth
by reason of an excessive fanaticism.

        Under this man's careful marshalling, the classes of
"crimes which Clay is perceived to have inspired and directed"
were frightful and numerous. The "most pointed proof of Clay's
cognisance and approval of" [alleged] "deeds of infamy and
treason" lay in the deposition of G. J. Hyams" (so reads the
Report), "testimony which illustrates the treacherous and
clandestine character of the machinations in which Clay was
engaged,"

Page 323

to the complete satisfaction of Mr. Holt. * One of the most
curious pieces of evidence of the Judge Advocate's really
malignant design in that virulent "Report" lies in his wilful
perversion of a statement which Mr. Clay had made by letter to
the Secretary of War. My husband had written that, at the time of
seeing Mr. Johnson's Proclamation for his arrest (during the
second week in May), he had been nearly six months absent from
Canada, a fact so well known that had Mr. Clay ever been brought
to trial a hundred witnesses could have testified to its
accuracy. Mr. Holt, to whom the Secretary of War, while denying
the access of counsel to his prisoner, had confided Mr. Clay's
letter, now altered the text as follows:

        "In connection with the testimony in this case, as thus
presented, may be noticed the assertions of Clay in his recent
letters to the Secretary of War, that at the date of the
assassination, he, Clay, had been absent from Canada nearly six
months."

        The substitution of the word "assassination" for
"proclamation" made a difference of one month, or nearly so, in
the calculations by which Mr. Holt was attempting to incriminate
and to preclude a sympathy for his defenseless victim, my
husband. After thus subtly manipulating Mr. Clay's statement in
such way as to give it the appearance of a falsehood, Mr. Holt
next proceeded to stamp it as such, and decreed that this "remain
as the judgment of the Department upon the communications of this
false and insolent traitor!"

        "It is to be added," this remarkable Report continues,
"upon the single point of the duration of his stay in Canada,
that it is declared by two unimpeached witnesses **

* Hyams, alias Harris, was one of the witnesses who, six months
before the date of Mr. Holt's Report, had been exposed by the
Rev. Stuart Robinson, and who, six months later, or less, himself
confessed his perjuries to the Judiciary Committee. A. S.

** But not unimpeachable, as later events proved. They were
afterward denounced by Mr. Holt as unprincipled perjurers and the
cause of all his trouble. A. S.

Page 324

that he was seen by them in Canada in February last. It may be
said that this Bureau has now "no doubt that it will be enabled,
by means of additional witnesses, to fix the term of Clay's stay
in Canada even more precisely than it has already been made to
appear." *

        Having now carried, through many pages, his charges of
numerous and basest crimes against Mr. Clay, Mr. Holt sums up his
Report thus:

        "It may, therefore, be safely assumed that the charge
against Clement C. Clay, of having incited the assassination of
the President, is relieved of all improbability by his previous 
history and criminal surroundings!"

        It must not be supposed that my woman's mind at once
recognised the real atrocity of these charges in that first
reading, or identified the palpable inaccuracies in them; nor
that fortifying deductions immediately made themselves plain to
me. As was said of another Holt document, sent later to the House
by the Judge Advocate General himself, every sentence of the
Report before me was "redolent with the logic of prosecution,
revealing something of the personal motive. There was certainly
nothing in it of the amicus curiae spirit, nothing of the
searcher after truth; nothing but the avidity of the military
prosecutor for blood."

        At that time, denied access to my husband, his papers and
journal scattered, my own retained by the War Department, I
possessed nothing with which to combat Judge Holt's accusations,
save an instinctive conviction

* In fact, as will have been seen elsewhere, Mr. Clay arrived in
South Carolina on the fourth of February, 1865, after a full
month's journeying by stormy sea from Nova Scotia to Bermuda,
thence on the ill-fated Rattlesnake, which, failing to make its
way into port at Wilmington, now in the hands of the Federals,
with delay and circumlocution, ran the blockade at Charleston,
only to perish under the very ramparts of Fort Moultrie. His
return, therefore, was sufficiently dramatic, and known to
hundreds of truly unimpeachable witnesses, had the Judge Advocate
allowed Mr. Clay to know the charges against him or given him an
opportunity for denial. A.S.

Page 325

that when once the charges were made known to Mr. Clay, he would
be able to refute them.

        That this elaborately detailed, this secretly and
laboriously gathered category of crime was destined months hence
to be turned to the open contempt and shame of the Judge who drew
it up, I had no consoling prescience, and not even the most
astute of my counsellors foresaw. Three months after Mr. Clay's
conditional release, in April, 1866, however, Representative
Rogers, in his report to the Judiciary Committee appointed by the
House, revealed to the body there assembled the "utterly un-
American proceedings of the Military Bureau" and the strange
conduct of its head.

        After a detailed report on the testimony which, having
been given to the Bureau of Military Justice, the witnesses now
acknowledged before the House Committee to have been false, Mr.
Rogers continued:

        "Who originated this plot I cannot ascertain. I am deeply
impressed that there is guilt somewhere, and I earnestly urge
upon the House an investigation of the origin of the plot,
concocted to alarm the nation, to murder and dishonour innocent
men, and to place the Executive in the undignified position of
making, under proclamation, charges which cannot ... stand a
preliminary examination before a justice of the peace ... .But
that no time was left me to pursue to the head the villainies I
detected in the hand, I might have been able plainly to tell
Congress and the country that if, in this plot, we had a Titus
Oates in Conover, * so also we had a Shaftesbury somewhere."

        Many newspapers, the New York Herald and Washington
Intelligencer in the lead, also began to reiterate the demand for
a public inquiry into the strange workings of

* Conover was the chief witness in the cases of Mrs. Surratt and
her companions, and Mr. Holt's charges against Mr. Clay were
based on his testimony and that of others who had been drilled in
their parts by Conover. A. S.

Page 326

the Bureau of Military Justice. Rumours ran over the country that
"persons in high places who deemed it for their best interest to
show complicity on the part of Davis and others in the
assassination of Lincoln, by false testimony or otherwise, will
find themselves held up to public gaze in a manner they little
dream of." *

        Two months later Mr. Holt issued a pamphlet which, under
the heading, "Vindication of Judge Holt from the Foul Slanderers
of Traitors, Confessed Perjurers and Suborners acting in the
interest of Jefferson Davis," was scattered broadcast over the
country. It is improbable that any parallel to this snarl of
defiance was ever sent out by a weak but, by no means, an
apologetic offender in high office. The pamphlet covers eight
full pages of admissions as to the deceptions which he claimed
had been practiced upon him, but contains no line of regret for
the tyranny he had exercised, and which had condemned
distinguished and innocent men to lie for months in damp
dungeons, prey to a thousand physical ills and mental torments.
Mr. Holt's vindication began as follows: "To all loyal men! In
the name of simple justice ... your attention is respectfully
invited to the subjoined article ** from the Washington
Chronicle, *** of yesterday,

* The public, however, was not destined to be treated to a
spectacle so likely to react to the Government's dishonour. Mr.
Holt, who for a year caused to be denied to the prisoners (one of
whom had been a Cabinet Minister, the other a United States
Senator) even the visits of counsel, now, for some forever
unexplained reason, instead of arresting the perjurer Conover,
after his admissions in the Committee room of the house, talked
to him kindly, and extended him the courtesy of a trip to New
York, in order that he might procure further testimony. Once
arrived, the polite swindler excused himself to his companion
and, bowing himself out, "was not seen by him thereafter," said
Mr. Holt; and he adds naïvely, "and up to this time he has not
communicated with me, nor has he made any effort, as I believe,
to produce the witnesses!" A. S.

** In part an interview with Mr. Holt, and the whole most
obviously inspired by him.

*** Practically the only voice now raised in an attempt to
explain or justify the Advocate General's unique methods. While
denying his knavishness, it had the singular appearance of
developing his foolishness. A. S.

Page 327

as representing a perfectly true vindication of myself from the
atrocious calumny with which traitors and suborners are now so
basely pursuing me. Joseph Holt."

        "It is clear," says this "vindicatory" excerpt, "that a
conspiracy has been formed to defame the Judge Advocate General
and the Bureau of Military Justice. ... At the bottom of this
conspiracy, or actively engaged in executing its purposes, is
Sanford Conover, who, after having been fully proved guilty of
subornation or perjury, * has unquestionably sold himself to the
friends of Davis ** and is seeking with them to destroy the
reputation of a public officer *** whose confidence he gained, as
we shall hereafter see, by the same solemn protestations, and
which confidence he subsequently most treacherously abused ...
.A more cold-blooded plot for the assassination of character
[sic] has never been concocted in any age or country!"

        It will be seen, Mr. Holt now overlooked the months in
which he, supported in his secret work by the Secretary of War,
and with almost unlimited powers vested in him, had been engaged
in plotting with the same tools, though warned of their evil
careers, against the lives of gentlemen of irreproachable
character and antecedents; against my husband, who had with
confidence in its integrity placed himself in the hands of the
Government in the expectation of a fair and impartial trial.

        Mr. Holt's "Vindication" continues: "Conover, though now
wholly degraded, was then, so far as was known to the Government,
without a stain upon his character."

* Conover had obviated the necessity for proving, by confessing,
his own infamy. A. S.

** Now for sixteen months a prisoner in Fortress Monroe, and
denied trial or counsel! A. S.

*** It is hard to believe that, if Mr. Holt's reputation had
survived the doubt thrown upon it by the House Committee, in the
preceding July, it could be seriously injured by anything that
might be averred by so vile a man as his former ally, Conover. A.
S.

Page 328

(The thoughtful reader must naturally turn to the accusations of
the Reverend Stuart Robinson, made publicly to the press,
scattered through the country fifteen months previous to this
declaration in Mr. Holt's "Vindication.") "Hence, when he wrote
me," continues the aggrieved Judge Advocate General, "alleging
the existence of testimony implicating Davis and others, and his
ability to find the witnesses, and proffering his services to do
so, I did not hesitate to accept his statements and proposals as
made in good faith and entitled to credit and to consideration."

        In the "Report" on the case of Mr. Clay, dated December
6, 1865, which, by the courtesy of the President, I was enabled
to see, Mr. Holt's willing adoption of the fabrications of his
unscrupulous "witnesses" was apparent in every phrase. In fact,
its spirit of malice terrified me. I kept faith with Mr. Johnson
and told no one of the knowledge I now possessed; but I
communicated some of the main points of the "Report" to Judge
Black and other advisers, and, resolving that I would never cease
until I attained my point, I redoubled my pleadings with the
President for the permission to visit my husband, which request I
now knew it would be useless to make at the War Department. When
I returned the "Report" to the President, I was keyed to a high
pitch of alarm by the spirit shown by the Advocate General, and
my requests now took another form.

        "It is said, Mr. Johnson, that you have refused to allow
the Military Court, composed of Messrs. Holt, Speed and Stanton,
to try Mr. Davis and Mr. Clay." The President bowed
affirmatively.

        "Then I pray you to give me your solemn oath in the
presence of the living God, that you will never, while in this
Presidential chair, yield those two innocent men into the hands
of that blood-seeking Military Commission!"

Page 329

        I was greatly agitated, and weeping. Mr. Johnson,
however, was calm and seemingly deeply in earnest as he answered
me,

        "I promise you, Mrs. Clay; trust me!"

        "I will; I do!" I cried, "but I would like you to
emphasise this sacred oath, remembering the precious lives that
hang upon it."

        Upon this Mr. Johnson raised his hand and repeated his
promise, adding again, "trust me!"

        After this interview I felt a sense of security which
gave me comparative repose of mind, but, nevertheless, I called
almost daily, to fortify Mr. Johnson against the continued
machinations of those officials whose influence was so inimical
to my husband and Mr. Davis. I now began to perceive that Judge
Black, Senator Garland and others had said truly when they
remarked to me that Mr. Johnson might be moved, if at all, by his
heart rather than by his head. He had already given me a strong
proof of this; soon he gave me others.

        The Christmas season was approaching, and while all about
me were arranging their little gaieties and surprises, the
realisation of Mr. Clay's isolation and discomforts and peril
became more and more poignant. To add to the sadness of our
situation, letters from Huntsville containing pathetic allusions
to the failing health of my husband's mother now began to follow
each other rapidly. I was urged to act quickly if she and her son
were to meet on earth again. In my letters to Mr. Clay I dared
not tell him of this approaching disaster, for between himself
and his mother an unusually tender relationship existed. I
dreaded the alarm such news might give him, alone and ill in his
dismal prison, exhausted as he was with waiting for direct
communication with me. I had already been a month in Washington
without having effected a meeting with him. Under the
circumstances, the headway gained seemed inappreciable. With

Page 330

a copy of Holt's "Report" in my possession, I resolved to go on
to New York for consultation with Mr. O'Conor, Mr. Shea, and Mr.
Greeley, so soon as I should receive some definite concession
from the President.

        I now told Mr. Johnson of Mrs. Clay's condition, and
begged him to release my husband, if only to permit him one
interview with his probably dying mother, to return again to
custody if the President so wished; or, failing the granting of
this, to allow me to visit him in prison. At last, after much
reiteration on my part, Mr. Johnson yielded; he promised that he
would issue the permit for my visit to Fort Monroe on his own
responsibility in a few days; that I might rely upon receiving it
upon my return from the metropolis.

        Hastening to New York, I was soon made aware by Messrs.
O'Conor, Shea and Greeley, who called upon me severally, that my
one course now was to persist in my effort to precipitate a trial
for my husband, or to procure his release on parole, in which
these gentlemen stood ready to supplement me, and, upon the
announcement of a trial, to defend Mr. Clay.

        My interview with Mr. Greeley took place in one of the
public corridors of the New York hotel, now thronging with
Southern guests, and, as I sat beside him on a settle, in earnest
conversation with the fatherly old man, his bald "temple of
thought" gleaming under the gaslights, which threw their fullest
brilliancy upon us, I remember seeing several prominent Southern
generals then registered at the hotel glance repeatedly at us,
and always with a look of surprise that said very plainly, "Well!
If there isn't Mrs. Clem. Clay hobnobbing with that old
Abolitionist!"

Page 331

CHAPTER XXVII
PRESIDENT JOHNSON INTERPOSES

        MR. JOHNSON kept his word. Late in December I found
myself on my way to Baltimore with the President's autographed
permit in hand, that would admit me to my husband's prison. I
left Washington on the afternoon of the 27th of December, going
by train to Baltimore. Here, crossing the city in an omnibus with
other passengers, to the wharf of the "New Line Steamers," I was
soon on board the boat, the George Leary, bound for Norfolk and
Fortress Monroe. I was so keenly alive to my own lonely condition
that I could not bring myself even to register my name among the
list of happier passengers. Everywhere about me gaily dressed
people thronged. I saw among them General Granger and wife, his
staff, and ladies of the party. As the George Leary pulled out
from her moorings, the brass band of a company of soldiers bound
for Norfolk began to play sweet, old-time airs. I had no desire
to linger among the carefree throng, and, calling the stewardess,
handed her a gold-piece, saying, "Can you sign for me or get me a
stateroom? I only go to Fortress Monroe."

        In a few moments she returned, regarding me inquiringly.

        "Lady!" she asked, "ain't you the wife of one of those
gentlemen down at the Fort?"

        "Yes!" I answered. "I am the wife of Mr. Clay, the
prisoner!"

        Thereupon she opened her hand, displaying my gold-piece,
saying, "The captain says he can't take any fare

Page 332

from you. He'll be here in a little while!" And she moved away.

        In a few moments the tall, gaunt Captain Blakeman stood
before me.

        "Are you Mrs. Clay?" he asked. "Wife of the prisoner at
Fortress Monroe?"

        Upon receiving my affirmative answer, the Captain spoke
earnestly.

        "Mrs. Clay, you have my deep sympathy. I'm a regular
Down-Easter myself - a Maine man; but for forty years I've plied
a boat between Northern and Southern cities; and I know the
Southern people well. I think it is a damned shame the way the
Government is behaving toward you and Mrs. Davis!"

        For a moment the tears blinded me, seeing which the
Captain at once withdrew, comprehending the thanks he saw I could
not utter. However, when the gong sounded for supper, he
returned, and with kindly tact led me to a place beside him at
the table, though I assured him I wanted nothing. At my obvious
lack of appetite he showed a very woman's thoughtfulness, himself
preparing the viands before me while he urged me "to drink my
coffee. You must take something," he said from time to time,
whenever he perceived a lagging interest in the dishes before me.
Nor did this complete his kindnesses, for on the following
morning, as I left the boat, Captain Blakeman handed me a slip of
paper on which was written:

                "NEW LINE STEAMERS, BALTIMORE, December 27, 1865.

        "Will please pass free Mrs. C. C. Clay, rooms and meals
included, to all points as she wishes, and oblige,

                                                    "S. BLAKEMAN,
                               "Commanding Steamer George Leary."

        "I hope you will use this pass as often as you need it,"
he said.

        We arrived at Fortress Monroe at four o'clock the next
morning. As I stepped from the gangplank, the scene

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about me was black and bleak, the air wintry. Save for a few
dozing stevedores here and there, whom I soon perceived, the
wharf was quite deserted. It had been my intention, upon my
arrival, to go directly to the little Hygeia Hotel just outside
the Fort, but upon the advice of Captain Blakeman I accepted the
shelter offered me by the clerk in charge of the wharf, and
rested until daylight in his snug little room just off from the
office.

        Just before leaving Washington I had written to Dr.
Craven, telling him of my intended visit to the prison, and
asking him to meet me at the little hotel. I now, at the first
streak of dawn, still acting upon the suggestions of the kind
captain, found a messenger and sent him with a note to General
Miles, telling him of my arrival with the President's permit to
see my husband, and asking that an ambulance be sent to convey me
to the Fort; and I despatched a second to Dr. Craven to tell him
my whereabouts. Unknown to me, that friendly physician, whose
humane treatment of Mr. Davis and my husband had brought upon him
the disapproval of the War Department, had already been removed
from his station at the Fort. My messenger found him,
nevertheless, and upon receipt of my message he came and made
himself known to me. His words were few, and not of a character
to cheer one in my forlorn condition.

        "Look for no kindness, Mrs. Clay," he said, "at the hands
of my successor, Dr. Cooper. He is the blackest of Black
Republicans, and may be relied upon to show the prisoners little
mercy."

        Our interview was brief, and, as the Fort ambulance was
seen approaching, the Doctor left me hurriedly. "For," said he,
"it will do neither you nor the prisoners any good if you are
seen talking with me." He had scarcely disappeared in the grey
morning when the escort from the Fort arrived. The vehicle was
manned by two handsome Union soldiers, one, Major Hitchcock of

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General Miles's staff, and the other Lieutenant Muhlenberg, a
grandson, as I afterward learned, of the author of "I would not
live alway." Months afterward, when Mr. Clay left the Fortress,
he carried with him the little volume containing Bishop
Muhlenberg's verses, a gift from the young lieutenant.

        Arrived at the Fort, I was taken at once to the
headquarters of General Miles, and conducted to a room
commodiously and even luxuriously furnished. In a short time the
General made his appearance. He was polite and even courteous in
the examination of my passport, which he scanned carefully; but
his manner was noncommittal as he politely asked me to "be
seated." I seated myself and waited. The General withdrew. After
the lapse of a few moments, an orderly appeared, bearing upon a
salver a tempting breakfast; but I, who had spent months in
seeking the privilege I had now come to claim, could touch
nothing. I declined the food, saying I would wait and breakfast
with my husband. The orderly looked perplexed, but removed the
tray; and now a dreary and inexplicable wait began, interbroken
with first a nervous, then an indignant, and at last a tearful
inquiry. During the morning I affected a nonchalance wholly at
variance with my real feelings. Picking up a book that lay at my
elbow on the table, I was surprised to see a familiar name upon
the fly-leaf. I commented upon the luxury of the apartment when
next General Miles entered, and added, "These books seem to have
been Governor Wise's property." The General was quick to defend
himself from any suggestion that might lie in my words. He
replied at once. "These headquarters were furnished by General
Butler before I was sent here!"

        Midday came and still the President's autographed permit,
which to me had seemed so powerful a document, was not honoured.
A savoury luncheon was now brought in, but a nausea of
nervousness had seized me and I could

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not eat a morsel. My excitement increased momentarily, until the
distress of mind and apprehension were wholly beyond my control.
I now implored General Miles to let me see my husband, if only
for a moment; to explain this delay in the face of the
President's order. I begged him to allow me to telegraph to
Washington; but to all my pleadings his only reply was to urge me
to "be calm." He assured me he regretted the delay, but that "his
orders" were such that he could neither admit me to my husband's
room, nor allow me to use the Government wires at present.

        By the middle of the afternoon, faint with pleadings and
worn with indignation and fears at the unknown powers which dared
thus to obstruct the carrying out of the President's orders, not
knowing what might yet be before me, my self-possession entirely
deserted me. I remember, during my hysterical weeping, crying out
to General Miles, "If you are ever married, I pray God your wife
may never know an hour like this!"

        In the midst of an uncontrollable paroxysm which seized
me at last, Dr. Vogell, who has been variously designated as the
private secretary and instructor of General Miles, entered.
During the day General Miles had presented the Doctor to me, and,
in his subsequent passing and repassing through the room, we had
from time to time exchanged a remark. He was a tall, picturesque
man, of possibly sixty years. At the sight of my culminating
misery, Dr. Vogell could bear the distressful scene no longer. He
cried out impulsively, "Miles, for God's sake, let the woman go
to her husband!"

        Unhappily, this manly outburst, though it had its own
message of sympathy for me, failed as utterly to move the
commanding General Miles as had my previous urgings. In the
months that followed, Dr. Vogell often called upon me
clandestinely in Washington (announced as "Mr. Brown"), to say
that "a friend of yours was quite

Page 336

well this morning, and desired his love given you!" The
recollection of his kindnesses lives imperishable in my memory,
but especially vivid is that first upwelling sympathy during the
painful waiting at the Fort.

        General Miles seemed not untouched by my pleadings, but,
it was evident, he felt himself subject to a superior power which
forced him to refuse them. His manner throughout, in fact, was
courteous and apologetic. Despite my agony of mind, it was late
in the afternoon ere the President's order was honoured. Then
General Miles entered, and, with an appearance of completest
relief, consigned me, tear-stained and ill, to the care of
Lieutenant Stone, who conducted me to Mr. Clay's prison.

        All day my husband, to whom there had penetrated a rumour
of my coming, had been waiting for me, himself tortured by fears
for my safety and by the mystery of my delay. The gloomy
corridors, in which soldiers patrolled night and day, guarding
the two delicate prisoners of State, were already darkening with
the early evening shadows when, at last, I saw my husband, martyr
to his faith in the honour of the Government, standing within the
grating, awaiting me. The sight of his tall, slender form, his
pale face and whitened hair, awaiting me behind those dungeon
bars, affected me terribly. My pen is too feeble to convey the
weakness that overcame me as Lieutenant Stone inserted and turned
the key in the massive creaking lock and admitted me; nor shall I
attempt to revive here the brief hours that followed, with their
tumultuous telling over of the happenings of the past months and
our hurried planning for the future.

        I returned to the capital full of sorrow and indignation.
My adventure at Fortress Monroe had revealed to me, far more
fully than I previously had suspected was possible, the struggle
for power that was now going on between the Secretary of War, Mr.
Stanton, on the one side, and

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on the other, President Johnson, by whose courtesy or timidity
this official still retained his portfolio. I resolved to relate
my entire experience at Fortress Monroe to the President at the
first opportunity.

        In the meantime, my husband, with whom I had left a
digest of Holt's report, upon a careful perusal of it, had been
greatly aroused. By the courtesy of a secret friend, he hastened
to send me a list of persons who could, if called upon, readily
testify to his whereabouts during certain periods described in 
the charges against him. He urged me to see the President, and
not to cease in my efforts to obtain his release on parole. His
condition of mind as expressed in this communication was, it was
evident, one of intense excitement.

        "You must not get discouraged!" he wrote. "My life
depends upon it, I fear! Since the days of Cain and Judas, men
may take life for money or some other selfish end. As innocent
men as I am have been judicially murdered, and I do not feel
secure from it, although God knows I feel innocent of crime
against the United States or any citizen thereof. As to my
declaring my purpose to surrender to meet the charge of
assassination, my unwillingness to fly from such charge, my
preferring death to living with that brand on me, my desire to
exculpate Mr. Davis, myself and the South from it, you know as
well as I do.

        "Judge Holt is determined to sacrifice me for reasons
given you. * He may do it if I am not allowed liberty to

*         In the preparation for the publication of these
Memoirs, I found myself continually lighting upon evidences of
irregularity in the Government's proceedings against Mr. Clay. I
was met constantly by what appeared to be a persistent and
inexplicable persecution of Messrs. Davis and Clay (if not a plot
against them, as hinted by Representative Rogers) at the hands of
the War Department, acting through Mr. Joseph Holt. I encountered
charges, not ambiguously made against Mr. Holt, of malice, and of
rancour which would be satisfied only with the "judicial murder"
of the prisoners in his hands. Charges of malice and meanness
have been made against him by living men as frequently as by
those who have passed away; men, moreover, whose integrity of
purpose has never been challenged. A rather general condemnation
of Mr. Holt appears in certain correspondence of the sixties. It
was uttered publicly in the press in the early and middle portion
of that decade. In the pamphlet alluded to and quoted from in
Chapter XXII. of these "Memoirs," the Rev. Stuart Robinson had
quoted Mr. Crittenden, of Kentucky, and another, to show the
peculiar estimate in which Mr. Holt was then held. "I know
little," wrote Mr. Robinson, in June of '65, "either of the
personal or public character of Mr. Holt. ... The only well-
defined impression I have of his personal character is gained
from two remarks concerning him in 1861-'62. The first, that of a
venerable Christian lady, of the old-fashioned country type, made
to me: 'Joe Holt, Sir, is the only young man I ever knew that
left this country without leaving one friend behind him in it!'
The other, the fierce retort of the venerable Crittenden, to a
Cabinet officer, reported to me by Governor Morehead: 'Joseph
Holt, of Kentucky, did you say, Sir? I tell you, Sir, by Heaven!
there is no such man as Joseph Holt, of Kentucky!'"

        In addition to such contemporaneous public utterances
concerning Mr. Holt, I have learned much that is corroborative by
word of mouth from men whose opinions have been softened by time,
and whose conspicuous positions in national affairs establish
their utterances as both weighty and trustworthy. Said one of
these, a United States Senator within the year (1903), "Joseph
Holt was the meanest man of his time. He was both unscrupulous
and ambitious; and the smartest man I ever knew!"

        Another as prominent in the nation's affairs, said, using
the same adjective as did the Senator just quoted, "He was a
peculiarly mean man. I don't know the true circumstances of Mr.
Davis's and Mr. Clay's imprisonment, but the suspicions that
attached to Holt were never proven, nor, so far as I know,
investigated. After he went out of office he seemed to have no
friends. He remained in Washington. I often saw him. Every
morning he would get into a shabby old buggy and drive to market,
where he would buy his meat and vegetables, potatoes, etc., for
the day. These he would carry back to the house in his buggy, and
his cook would prepare his solitary meals for him. I never felt
anything but dislike for him," said this gentleman, "and I don't
know any one else who did!"

        "True!" responded another gentleman, whose word has
balanced national opinion to a large extent for many years, "Mr.
Holt was repugnant to me. I think he was generally regarded as a
man who had forsaken his own section for gain. I thought him a
heartless man. When he left office he went into utter obscurity!"

        These remarks, coming from sources so authoritative, lent
strength to the supposition that Mr. Holt's behaviour toward his
self-surrendered prisoner and former friend, Clement C. Clay, if
it might be traced to its source, would, indeed, reveal a
persecution at once vengeful and malicious, springing from some
personal animus. For a year I made continuous effort to find this
motive, but without success. Pitiless enmity, supported by almost
unlimited powers (vested in Mr. Holt as Judge Advocate General,
when the Government was in an unprecedented condition of chaos),
this officer surely exercised toward Messrs. Davis and Clay; but,
where was the raison d'être?

        By an accident, "at the eleventh hour," the paper in Mr.
Clay's handwriting containing the sentence quoted in the
preceding text came to light. I wrote promptly to Mrs. Clay-
Clopton concerning it, urging her to try to recall, if possible,
the "reasons" which Mr. Clay in his prison in Fortress Monroe, on
the night of December 29, 1865 had given her in explanation of
Mr. Holt's animosity toward him. Her reply ran as follows:

        "I can give you, in regard of Mr. Holt's persecution of
my husband, one very important reason! On the breaking out of the
war, I think on the secession of Mississippi, Holt, who had won
both his fame and his fortune in that State of his adoption,
espoused the Southern cause. Whether this was known to others
than Mr. Davis and Mr. Clay, I do not know. From the impression
that remains on my memory, Holt communicated in confidence to
those two gentlemen alone his intention of standing by the South.
Possibly, it was said to Mr. Davis alone, as the latter was
Mississippi's leading Senator, and by Mr. Davis repeated to Mr.
Clay. It was a common thing in those days to keep secret one's
intentions." [See visit of Admiral Semmes, Chapter IX.] "Whether
Holt's decision was known to others than Mr. Davis and Mr. Clay,
his friend," continues the letter, "I do not know. I remember Mr.
Clay telling me that Mr. Holt was a renegade and a traitor, who
had pledged himself to the South; but when, in his selfish
ambition, he received a higher bid from the Federal Government,
he deserted our cause and went over to the opposition. I do not
recall the position offered Mr. Holt by the Federal Government,
but it was a plum he coveted.

        "You ask whether Mr. Clay and Mr. Holt ever had any
dealings with each other, political or business:

        "None of any kind! Mr. Clay only knew of Holt's base
defection from our cause and condemned him for it. My husband
told me (in the Fortress), 'Mr. Holt knows the estimate Mr. Davis
and I have of his defection and would fain get us out of the
way!' " A. S.

Page 338

seek witnesses and prepare my defense; or, if I am subjected to
the mockery of trial by Military Court, when all the charges he
can make may be brought against me in a great drag-net."

        As a step toward securing an early interview, and also
because the President's daughters, Mrs. Stover and

Page 339

Mrs. Patterson, now presiding at the White House, had been
courteous to me, I resolved, as a stroke of policy, to attend the
Presidential reception to take place on the ninth of January.
Naturally, since my arrival in Washington, I had not participated
in the social life about me. In acknowledgment of Mr. Johnson's
concessions, and with my husband's life at stake, with a desire
further to win the President's good offices, I now prepared to
attend his levee. My toilette was complete save for the drawing

Page 340

on of my gloves, when, while awaiting the call of my hostess Mrs.
Parker and her daughter Mrs. Bouligny, whose preparations were
somewhat more elaborate than my own, I broke the seal of some
letters from home. The news they contained was of a nature well
calculated to divert me from the thought of appearing at a public
gathering, even at the Executive Mansion.

        The first told me, in hurried lines, of the illness of my
husband's mother; the second, posted a few hours later, announced
her death. "I write beside mother's dead body," began my sister,
Mrs. J. Withers Clay. "Her constant theme was brother Clement,
and the last thing I remember hearing her say was 'What of my
son?' in so distressed a tone that her heart appeared broken ...
.I trust you have seen your dear husband ere this. I hope he will
be released before poor father leaves us. He is very distressed,
very gentle and subdued in his trouble ... .I can never forget
mother's heart-thrilling question 'What of my son?' She was very
unhappy about your last letter - it was rather low-spirited - and
said, 'I have no hope; I shall never see my son!' "

        Within the next day I called upon Mr. Johnson. He
received me with his usual urbane manner, quite in contrast with
my own indignant mood.

        "Mr. Johnson," I began, "Who is the President of the
United States?"

        He smiled rather satirically and shrugged his shoulders.

        "I am supposed to be!" he said.

        "But you are not!" I answered. "Your autographed letter
was of little more use to me when I reached Fortress Monroe than
blank paper would have been! For hours it was not honoured,
during which time your Secretary of War held the wires and
refused to allow me either to see my husband or to communicate
with you!" Then, in as few words as possible, I related the
circumstances of my

Page 341

visit to the Fort. Mr. Johnson, though constrained to preserve
his official reserve, was unable to repress or disguise his anger
at my recital.

        "When you go there again you'll have no difficulty, I
assure you!" he said.

        "When may I?" I asked eagerly.

        "When you wish," he answered.

        I now pictured to him my husband's position; I related
the sad news I had just received, and which, under present
conditions, I knew I dared not tell Mr. Clay. I implored the
President, by every argument at my command, to exercise his
Executive power and release Mr. Clay on his parole. Every moment
of his incarceration under the discipline invented by the
unscrupulous military authorities, I felt his life to be
imperilled. As our interview proceeded, however, I perceived the
old indecision of manner returning. The President's replies were
all to one effect; viz.: that the Secretary of War must decide
upon the case. He freely made out another permit to the prison,
this time to cover a longer stay, but about a parole for Mr.
Clay, or the naming of a day for an early trial, he could promise
nothing. He would consult his Cabinet; he would see Mr. Stanton.
At last, my importunities for an authoritative action growing
greater, the President burst out with every evidence of deep
feeling:

        "Go home, woman, and write what you have to say, and I'll
read it to my Cabinet at the next meeting!"

        "You will not!" I answered hotly.

        "Why?" he asked, cynically.

        "Because," I replied, "you are afraid of Mr. Stanton! He
would not allow it! But, let me come to the Cabinet meeting, and
I will read it," I said. "For, with my husband's life and liberty
at stake, I do not fear Mr. Stanton or any one else."

End of Part 6