Our Lesser Angels

Mary Frailey Calland

Description

Fifteen years after the end of the American Civil War, a North Carolina widow travels to Elmira, New York, the site of an infamous Confederate prisoner of war camp, to confront the woman who may know the meaning of an engraved ring found in the pocket of her deceased husband’s Rebel uniform. The answer emerges through fictionalized first person accounts from a Rebel prisoner, a Union guard, a crusading Elmira Female College student, and John W. Jones, the actual fugitive slave and Underground Railroad conductor ironically tasked with overseeing the burials of the nearly 3000 Confederate soldiers who died at the camp. Their diverse voices provide an intimate look into the build-up and conduct of the war from the passionate perspectives of those who fought for either side, those left to wait at home, and those whose very freedom depended on the war’s outcome. Their deeply held beliefs and loyalties are challenged when their fates converge in the harsh shadow of the Elmira prison camp, a place where suffering blurs the line between enemy and friend, and where empathy can turn to love.

Sujets

• Civil War Era
• Historical
• América
• American Civil War
• American
• Romance
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Outskirts Press
• Date de parution: 30 juin 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781977265975
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

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Our Lesser Angels A Novel of the Elmira Civil War Prison Camp All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2023 Mary Frailey Calland v4.0 r1.0
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.
This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Outskirts Press, Inc. http://www.outskirtspress.com
Cover Photo © 2023 Booth Library of Chemung County Historical Society, Elmira, NY. All rights reserved - used with permission.
Outskirts Press and the "OP" logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
For Dean, at my side
FOREWORD
Growing up in 1960’s Elmira, New York, I was unaware that, just two miles from my home, near a popular ice-skating pond, over 12,000 Confederate soldiers were imprisoned from July of 1864 to July of 1865. The prison camp was never spoken of or taught about in school. No plaque marked its existence. Decades passed before I learned the reasons for this historical amnesia, or the true story of how nearly 3000 of those Rebel soldiers died and came to be buried, with uncommon respect, by an escaped slave in a quiet cemetery on the edge of town.
In fact, it was the legacy of that escaped slave, John W. Jones, and the care with which he buried those enemy soldiers, that originally inspired me to write Our Lesser Angels . The more I learned about this courageous, compassionate man – a former slave and Underground Railroad conductor who became one of the wealthiest African Americans in New York State – the more I discovered the complex and controversial role the town of Elmira played in the history of the American Civil War. Although I have never used a real person as a character in one of my books, Mr. Jones is so pivotal to the telling of the ECWPC story, I felt his voice, insofar as I could discern it from his actions and the few existing quotes attributed to him, needed to be heard. It is my hope that the license I have taken in presenting John Jones’ fictional words and, through them, the actions and reactions of the African American community in Elmira during that period, will do credit to his memory.
The treatment and high mortality rate of prisoners at the Elmira Civil War Prison Camp have been the subject of much controversy, most notably in accusations made in the halls of Congress in the late 1870’s. These accusations were the catalyst for the first comprehensive history of the prison camp, written by Elmiran Clay Holmes in 1912. At that time, many of the former guards and prisoners were still alive, and Mr. Holmes was dogged in soliciting letters and testimonials from as many of them as he could locate. He was just as dogged in accepting those opinions that supported his laudatory view of the conduct of the camp administration, the guards, and the people of Elmira, and explaining away those that did not.
From these solicited materials, and with acknowledged reliance on the writings and opinions of Charles Fairman, the fiercely pro-Union editor of the Elmira Advertiser , Holmes concluded that the high death rate at Elmira was due primarily to the questionable decisions of higher-ups in Washington, bad weather, the poor condition of the prisoners when they first arrived in Elmira, and homesickness. He largely absolves the camp administration and guards, as well as the local citizenry, as evidenced by the book’s dedication: "TO THE CITIZENS OF ELMIRA WHO LOYALLY DISPLAYED THE HIGHEST CHRISTIAN SPIRIT IN THEIR TREATMENT OF THE CONFEDERATE PRISONERS OF WAR."
More recent scholarship by Michael Horigan ( Elmira, Death Camp of the North ), Michael Gray ( The Business of Captivity ), and Derek Maxwell ( Helmira ) calls into question many of Holmes’ conclusions and offers alternative, less exculpatory explanations for the high death rate at the Elmira Civil War Prison Camp and the conduct of the U.S. Army and the people of Elmira.
From my own extensive research, I believe the truth lies, as it often does, somewhere between the glorified memories of the victor and the vitriol of the vanquished. Our Lesser Angels is not intended to exonerate or vilify either the Confederate prisoners, their Union captors, or the citizens of 1860’s Elmira. Rather, it is an attempt to portray, with all its complexity, the struggles and possible motivations of ordinary Americans who found themselves in extraordinary circumstances and rose – or failed to rise – to the challenge.
"Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature."

President Abraham Lincoln First Inaugural Address 1861

TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1: Elmira, New York May 1877
CHAPTER 2: John Jones
CHAPTER 3: Charlotte
CHAPTER 4: Eli
CHAPTER 5: Archie
CHAPTER 6: John Jones
CHAPTER 7: Charlotte
CHAPTER 8: Eli
CHAPTER 9: Archie
CHAPTER 10: John Jones
CHAPTER 11: Charlotte
CHAPTER 12: Eli
CHAPTER 13: Charlotte
CHAPTER 14: Archie
CHAPTER 15: Eli
CHAPTER 16: John Jones
CHAPTER 17: Charlotte
CHAPTER 18: Archie
CHAPTER 19: John Jones
CHAPTER 20: Archie
CHAPTER 21: Eli
CHAPTER 22: Charlotte
CHAPTER 23: Archie
CHAPTER 24: Eli
CHAPTER 25: John Jones
CHAPTER 26: Charlotte
CHAPTER 27: Archie
CHAPTER 28: Eli
CHAPTER 29: Charlotte
CHAPTER 30: Archie
CHAPTER 31: John Jones
CHAPTER 32: Eli
CHAPTER 33: Charlotte
CHAPTER 34: Archie
CHAPTER 35: John Jones
CHAPTER 36: Charlotte
CHAPTER 37: Eli
CHAPTER 38: Archie
CHAPTER 39: John Jones
CHAPTER 40: Charlotte
CHAPTER 41: Eli
CHAPTER 42: Archie
CHAPTER 43: Charlotte
CHAPTER 44: John Jones
CHAPTER 45: Eli
CHAPTER 46: Charlotte
CHAPTER 47: John Jones
CHAPTER 48: Archie
CHAPTER 49: Eli
CHAPTER 50: Charlotte
CHAPTER 51: Archie
CHAPTER 52: John Jones
CHAPTER 53: Charlotte
CHAPTER 54: Eli
CHAPTER 55: Elmira, New York May 1877
Acknowledgements
CHAPTER 1
Elmira, New York May 1877
Reckoning



Elmira . To many of the passengers, the name above the doorway of the two-story red brick train station meant home; to others, it was a brief stop on the way to someplace else. To Lettie, the word was fearsome; haunting; a wound that would not heal. She stared out the window as the train stuttered to a stop alongside the platform. Is this where they brought him? she wondered. Did he walk those boards? Stare up at that same sign? Did he have any idea what would happen to him, here?
With trembling fingers, Lettie reached into her reticule and felt for the small glass bottle with its cork stopper. She could still hear the Widow Teblow’s voice, raw with grief and hatred despite the passage of years.
"You go on up there and fetch them things of Archie’s. And when you do, take this with you." She pressed two gold coins and a dirt filled vial into Lettie’s palm. "Them Yankees killed my poor Lewis in that godforsaken prison, just as sure as if they’d shot him. I might not be able to bring my boy home, but at least he can rest under some good North Carolina dirt."
Lettie felt a twinge of guilt about the white lie she’d told to loosen the old woman’s purse strings. There was no letter to Lettie from a Union colonel; no recently discovered personal effects from Lettie’s first husband to bring back home. But the fact was, without the Widow Teblow’s help, Lettie couldn’t have afforded to buy the train ticket. Or the pistol.
Then there was Harley. Lettie doubted he would ever forgive her when he discovered the "Tomorrow-Money" stashed in the clay jar atop the chifforobe was gone. Harley was a good man, a good husband, and she didn’t mean to hurt him. But, what else could she do? She had to know. She just had to.
"May I help you with your bag, Ma’am?" A Negro porter dressed in the uniform of the New York, Lake Erie and Western Railroad Company stood in the aisle.
Lettie tightened her grip on the faded yellow satchel in her lap.
"No!" She softened her tone. "No. But I will be needin’ a cab." If her Southern accent elicited any emotion from the man, his face did not betray it.
"Yes, Ma’am."
Lettie gathered her belongings, straightened her stiff legs, and made her way down the narrow aisle of the train. At the doorway, she hesitated.
The commotion at the railway station was the same as it had been at the station in Wilmington, North Carolina: rumpled but excited passengers being greeted by family and friends; businessmen rushing off to meetings; a few travelers, like her, tentative and disoriented. But the sharp nasal accents here were harsh on her ears. And, of course, the people looked more prosperous. They wore suits, dresses, and hats that were new and stylish, not the outdated and patched clothing of the defeated. And, though Lettie had layered on a jacket for warmth, she noticed the townspeople wore light fabrics and frocks and seemed oblivious to the chill in the air.
If it’s this cool in May, how must it have been here durin’ the harsh winter months?
The porter reappeared.
"Ma’am. If you’ll come this way."
Lettie stepped down onto the stool the porter placed below the door of the passenger car to a