HANGING THE CHIEF
RAIDERS. SCENES AT THE EXECUTION.
Building the scaffold for executing the principal raiders, began at 9
a. m. a few yards within the dead line near the south gate. By 1 p. m. it was
finished and the crowd assembled everywhere a footing could be had in view of
the scaffold. Looking from my position near the scaffold to the north on the
sloping ground I beheld the most densely packed crowd I had ever seen. The
south side if possible was more densely packed. They came from every extreme
portion of the stockade until they could get no further. Evidently every man
that could be was on his taps. A multitude of probably 30,000, all astir on so
small an area is seldom if ever seen. The regulator squads, armed, with clubs,
formed a square around the scaffold to keep back the crowd. It was feared by
leaders that an attempt would be made, by associates of the doomed, to destroy
the scaffold and release them. Sometime was employed in attaching halters to
the beam and adjusting nooses, then all was ready. Shortly after, the gate
opened and Capt. Wirz, dressed in a white duck suit, upon his gray horse,
accompanied by a Catholic priest, followed by the guard with the doubly doomed
war prisoners. They were six dressed only in undershirts and drawers and heads
uncovered. Capt. Wirz addressed us in broken Swiss nearly as follows:
"Prisoners, I deliver these men to you in as
good condition as I found them. I have had nothing to do in convicting them of
crime of which they are accused, except to lend my assistance for their and
your protection; nor do I charge them or believe them guilty, and shall have
nothing to do with the execution of your sentence. You have tried them; I have
permitted it. You have convicted and sentenced them; if they are hung, you, not
I, will be responsible for it. I deliver them to you; do with them as you
please, and may God be with them and you. Guards about face; forward
march."
All but the priest moved out and the gate closed. This address was
delivered from a paper in his hand said to have been' prepared by Lieut. Davis
or some officer of the post.
The prisoners had doubted the earnestness of the proceedings up to the
moment of the egress of Wirz and the guard. However, their arms had been
pinioned, and when they looked at the gallows the dreadful truth struck terror
to their hearts. Their executioners were in position and without the least
delay pressed each man to ascend the scaffold, Curtis, a strong man, shouted in
a strong, rough voice, "By God, boys, we will never go up there!" At
the same time fiercely wrenching away, loosing his arms and throwing them about
his head, dashed madly through the regulators' lines rushed through the weak
crowd to the stream, plunged into the swamp, sometimes to his hips, but was
retaken by two pursuers before reaching solid ground. Meantime the crowd took
panic, supposing the rescue of the condemned was attempted and in the confusion
jostled and trampled one another down. Their fright was greatly increased on
seeing the Rebels fly to their guns. The crowd surged back like a heavy sea,
trampling hundreds of the weaker under feet and leveling flimsy tents in the
rush, which had hardly ceased before the fugitive was brought back trembling
and cowering with fear. The others had been left standing, but now all were
pushed up the steps to the trap by the executioner, talking and wailing
unintelligibly while the priest begged fervently for them to be spared. As the
nooses were put over their necks, and the bags, used for caps, were ready to be
drawn over their faces, with what awful woe they crouched and pleaded for life.
The priest, at their request essayed to address, not only those in charge but
the vast crowd as well, uttering an appeal and urging that the final
disposition of the matter be left to the crowd. Alas, of no avail. The
witnesses of their crimes by thousands, as well as their condemners stood
before them and their clamor for the execution to proceed overwhelmed the
frantic effort of the priest. They believed them guilty of direct murder, the
means of suffering and death of many by depriving them of scanty clothing and
fare; by theft and in having cruelly beaten them. The guilty clamored for mercy
that they had denied to innocent, helpless men. Yet willingly would most of us
spared them to be dealt with by law, but with their lives we knew no safety.
Who has seen the soul's anguish pouring out in tears? This was the
agony of guilt. It fired in the wild eye, flashed on the cowering cheek,
darkened on the crazed brow and poured in frenzied tones from quivering lips.
If the executioners were moved by these appeals they knew their duty and
performed it. The firm answer was, "No you must die." Then said
Collins, to the priest:
"Then do pray for us, pray long and hard!"
He prays but Collins breaks in vehemently.
"I am guilty, but not of this; I have been an awful man! I have
not had a fair trial," and many other sentences, and all shout together,
"Yes, yes!" Sullivan broke in:
"Neither am I guilty, but”—and he groaned, "I did not expect
ever to come to this." "Nor I," all shouted in concert.
Their exclamations were so loud, continuous and distressing, that I
heard nothing of the prayer. Several times the sack was removed from their
heads as they feelingly urged to be prayed for, until the executioners had
decided not to repeat it, when Curtis asked for one moment. Speaking loudly, he
asked:
"Have I a friend within hearing?"
A voice answers, "Yes, it is me, Curtis."
"Is it you, Tony Ryan? Come up here."
Executioner—"No, he can't come up."
Curtis—"Then I have one request, Tony, it is my dying request. I
want you to keep my watch and send it back to my father-in-law in New York
City."
Tony—"I will do it, Curtis."
Curtis—"I am ready. This is a hard sight, boys," and he groaned.
Sullivan and Muir both said: "May God bless our souls!"
The executioners stepped from the platform, the props were pulled, the
traps fell. As I looked upon the scene I saw that Collins had snapped his rope,
and fallen to the ground. He was restored to consciousness, and though he plead
that as God had saved his life once, he should be spared. But he was forced
upon the raised trap, the noose readjusted while the other five were in the
throes of death before his eyes, and swung off, partially kneeling, an
impulsive movement all made. It was indeed a hard sight; six strong men sent
from life for crimes against fellow prisoners. I almost think I am hardened
because I looked upon them with the composure that I did. This is the breaking
up of a gang organized in the Richmond prisons.
But there were interested spectators outside the prison, the soldiers
standing in their rifle pits with arms ready; the artillerymen standing at
their pieces ready to pull the ledyard cord at command; and from 1,500 to 2,000
people, composed of old men and women of both sexes and all colors, from
several miles about, who in their anxiety to see, had edged from positions
assigned them, in front of the artillery and infantry lines, and were thrown
into panic as they supposed they were to fire upon the prisoners.
It is told of Muir that he was acquitted of a crime in Dublin, Ireland,
though he had confessed guilt to his priest. Since conviction here he told the
story to an Irish friend, adding that after acquittal the priest told him that
death by hanging would be his doom; that the priest's words had always haunted
him; though he sought to avoid acts tending to their fulfillment, he often lost
self-control and went wrong. To him he confessed complicity in crimes charged
and proved against raiders.
SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a
War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864,
pp. 88-90
