Southern Occupation-taking the oath

It was the most despised word in the South. A few took it “as if
it was nothing more than a glass of lemonade." Others refused as
if it were arsenic. It forced people to reexamine their priorities:
principle or bread? They reconsidered what it meant to give their
word of honor. For loyal Confederates, it was likened to
"swallowing the dog."
The Oath of Allegiance to the United States became a staple of
the Confederate diet. In exchange for the privilege to vote, to
transact business, to acquire rations, to perform marriage
ceremonies, or even to get married, Rebels were forced to gulp
down their pride and utter these words: "I do solemnly swear
that I hereby renounce all countenance, support and allegiance to
the so-called Confederate States of America."
For a people left crushed and crippled, the requirement of the oath
was like pouring salt into an open wound. "I think the exaction of
this oath cannot be justified upon any grounds whatever whether as
of admonition and warning for the future or as punishment for the
past," wrote Henry William Ravenel from South Carolina. "It is simply
an arbitrary and tyrannical exercise of power." 
The Western Democrat in Charlotte summed up the situation for most
ex-Confederates: "Those who expect to follow any occupation in the
country have no alternative but to take the oath."
Paroled soldiers were denied transportation home unless they took
the oath. Discharged at Lynchburg, William Carroll walked to
Winchester for his parole and free transportation back again. The
Virginian refused to swear allegiance and had to walk home. A
Kentucky soldier paroled in South Carolina was informed that he
could not leave at all, until the oath was taken. Likewise, in
Richmond, "a parole bearing any significance was ignored," wrote
an observer, unless its owner took the oath. "Many men... were
reduced to distress and almost starvation by the refusal of
transportation." Even civilians were afraid to travel without taking
the oath, knowing they would not "be protected against violence or
injustice of any kind."
For many Confederate prisoners, liberty itself hinged on taking the
oath. A young man imprisoned in the waning days of the War remained
so through May because of his refusal to swear allegiance to a country
he had been fighting against for years. Understanding his dilemma but
frantic to see him, a sister implored the boy to reconsider:
Do not again refuse when the opportunity presents itself. God judge
me if I do wrong in writing thus to you. If you have suffered, believe
me it has cost your sister no little pain to do that which I would
rather have died than done twelve months ago! Let you act as you may!
You will ever command the respect of your friends. Your character is
too well established to be assailed after four years of strict
adherence to duty, should you deem it advisable to bury all hopes and
become a good "citizen" of the United States of America. A man of
sense ought to yield everything for duty's sake, and "obey: the powers
that be." Don't imagine that those who love you so dearly will ever
blush for your conforming to unavoidable circumstances. Come home,
then, my darling, for home needs you as well as you need it.
A man living near Tullahoma, Tennessee, was required to report to
headquarters once a month; then sent to Nashville to report daily.
"They finally got tired of that I suppose," recalled the disgusted
soldier, "and they sent me to the penitentiary for safe keeping."
Finally, after weeks of imprisonment the man swore the oath and was
released, but was still forced to walk over sixty miles home.
Even civilians faced the same dire consequence for' their obstinacy.
A woman living in Selma recalled that "everybody was required to take
the oath (how I hate that word), and every one who refused was
imprisoned."
A group of women in Tennessee, who had organized during the War to
take clothes, medicine, and provisions to several companies serving
from their area, were among those arrested. Guards walked them for
hours, through mud over their shoe tops, to an awaiting steamer that
transported them to Chattanooga. "They were marched up to the provost
marshal's office like a lot of criminals and required to take the oath
of allegiance," said a man who knew the ladies.
Some reasoned that being forced to swear to such an oath made it
acceptable to break it. One woman admitted that she "would break it as
readily as she would take it," without violating her conscience.
Skeptical Yankees observed this insincerity. "They [will] take loyalty
like gin and sugar," one colonel remarked, "and pass it off just as easy."
An angry George Wise, when faced by the oath, sought the ad vice of his
former commander, General Lee. "I feel that this is submission to an
indignity," complained Wise. "If I must continue to swear the same thing
over at every street corner, I will seek another country where I can at
least preserve my self-respect." Lee responded, according to Wise, sadly
and quietly: "Do not leave Virginia. Our country needs her young men now.
" When young Wise informed his father that he had indeed taken the oath,
the former governor of Virginia declared that the son had disgraced his
family. Upon learning that General Lee had encouraged his son to do so,
the old man quietly retracted his statement.
"I have my pardon in my pocket, and have taken the oath three times," said
a man in Albany, Georgia, "but I'll be damned if I ain't as big a Rebel as
I ever was!"
No matter how many times they swallowed the dog, the taste was always foul,
and compelling Southerners to swear allegiance over and over required great
ingenuity. There was seemingly no end to the inducements Federals contrived
to coerce oath taking. In Columbus, Georgia, ladies were initially required
to take the oath in order to receive their mail. Elsewhere in Georgia,
letters were opened, in order to test the sincerity of Rebels who had taken
the oath. "This, I am told, is now frequently done... so we will have to
use great prudence," a woman wrote furtively to family members in Atlanta.
"Alas, for our humiliated and degraded condition!" Some Southerners began
hiding their diaries from prying eyes, for fear their true feelings would
be discovered.
Another man who wearied of taking oath upon oath to every county, state,
and Federal entity imaginable, and who worried about his mail being opened,
was Moses Evans.
 
Painesville, Amelia Co. VA
United States in North America Western Hemisphere, Earth,
Solar System No -, Nebula No -, Universe

My dear Sister Mary;
With the above patriotic heading, I suppose that I may safely write somewhat
explicitly. As soon as President Johnson has established, at the point of the
bayonet, the respective numbers or our solar system and Nebula, I will fill
the above blanks with pleasure, and in the true Union spirit.

In the minds of Southerners, it was doubly insulting to exchange the oath
for food. "It was most heartrending," observed Cornelia Spencer, "to see
daily crowds of country people, from three score and ten down to the
unconscious infant carried in its mother's arms, coming into town to beg
for food and shelter; to ask alms from those who had despoiled them." One
poorly educated woman in this circumstance went to the local provost and
inquired if she could draw rations. The officer asked if she would take the
oath. "Thank you, sir," said the lady, "there is ox cart. Please put it in
that."
"Poor soul, she thought it something to eat, and she did not miss it far,
" one man sagely noted upon hearing the story. "It is an article all have
now to eat and digest as best they can."
Another naive young woman who applied for rations was asked if she had sworn
the oath. "No, indeed, sir," the girl replied emphatically, "1 never swore
in my life." When told again by the amused agent that, in order to obtain
food, she must swear the oath, the reluctant girl acquiesced. "Well, sir,
" the shy, young woman finally responded as she stared at the ground, 'if
you will make me do such a horrid, wicked thing[,] _DAMN the Yankees!"
Resolved to take the oath in order to feed her starving family, a mother at
Petersburg was relieved when the commanding officer did not require it.
Fantasizing about the dinner her family would enjoy, the lady was brought
back to reality when a servant returned with the “feast” - musty meal with
hairy caterpillars. The rations included fish, as well, but it was so rank
and repulsive that the servant buried it, rather than take it into the house.
The woman's only consolation was the fact that she had not sworn falsely to
receive such wretched fare.
Young Emma Le Conte was one of many who declared they would starve before
taking the oath, and given the quality of rations in some areas, the decision
may not have been a difficult one.
Southerners were forced to swear the oath for spiritual food, as well. Even
their God had been supplanted by a cold and distant Northern deity, at whose
altar they resentfully laid sacrifices. At Richmond, ministers could not
perform wedding ceremonies unless they had taken the oath. And, couples could
not marry without first swearing allegiance.
Given the situation, working in the ranks of the clergy became a high-risk
occupation. Reading of events unfolding in Missouri, Washingtonian William
Owner was outraged that five Catholic priests were arrested and thrown into a
cell "with two burglars and a Negro ravisher." Again, their only crime was
refusing to swear the oath.
At Charleston, Reverend Alexander W. Marshall omitted prayers for the
president from his service, an oversight that went unreported for some time.
When Brig. General John P. Hatch finally learned of the misdeed, he ordered
the minister exiled, and his property confiscated. Hatch left no doubt as to
his future course should parishioners forget "their duty to their country"
by not informing on any" disloyal priest." "They... will hereafter be marked
persons," announced the general menacingly.
Alfred S. Hartwell, while military commander in Columbia, attended a local
church, and warned the minister that his building would be boarded up if the
prayer for the president was not used. The frightened preacher complied with
the order, but rushed through the prayer ''as if the words choked him,
" observed a parishioner. "At the end not one Amen was heard."
Like their Catholic counterparts, when Protestant preachers in Missouri
failed to pray for Lincoln, they were arrested and their churches closed.
None of these threats were new to Reverend Robert Austin. After serving as
chaplain with Rebel forces until they were driven from his state, the
Missourian returned to his home and ministry. Upon taking the loyalty oath,
Austin tried to resume a normal life. But, it was not to be. The preacher
encountered relentless harassment at every turn. Occupying soldiers not only
burned his churches, but placed his life in constant danger as well. The War's
end Changed nothing. Federal troops again torched his church near Parkville- a
church they had already desecrated by using as a stable-and forbade Austin from
preaching "under any circumstance." When the minister got word that his
assassination was imminent, and when the opportunity to escape to Montana
presented itself, he did not dally.
In various denominations, the hierarchy took it upon itself to discipline those
clergymen in its ranks who had chosen the wrong side. The General Assembly of
the Presbyterian Church met at Pittsburgh and passed a series of resolutions
"practically suspending all... ministers until they had repented of the sin of
rebellion."
" As those in the South, almost to a man was strong supporters of the
Confederacy," explained a devout Tennesseean, "this action declared every
pulpit vacant and meant that the North had the right to take over our churches
with their property."
Resisting this draconian decree, members of the First Presbyterian Church
in Nashville refused to seat a clergyman sent from the North. The Northern
minister became belligerent and addressed the crowd, "Gentlemen, you seem to
forget that the rebellion is crushed, and that Nashville is in the hands of
the Union army."
A member of the congregation stood and retorted, "Mr. Brown, do you mean to
threaten us? Is it your aim to use the military force to compel us to accept
you as our minister?"
When the military refused to intervene, Reverend Brown returned to the North.
The Synod of the Methodist Church decided to close five hundred houses of
worship in Missouri whose pastors had not sworn the oath. Applauding the
dismissal of preachers who had instilled treasonous thoughts into their
congregations, a St. Louis newspaper wrote, "We were fearfu1 it would require
foreclosure on their worthless souls by the veritable Old Nick himself."
Having the oath forced upon them was not the only form of humiliation suffered
by former Confederates. Most melancholy to Southerners was the supplanting
of their banner with the Federal flag. "The saddest moment of my life,
" recalled Myrta Avary, "was when I saw that Southern Cross dragged down and
the Stars and Stripes run up... I saw it tom down from the height where valor
had kept it waving for so long and at such cost."
"Never before”, added another woman, "had we realized how entirely our hearts
had been turned away from what was once our whole country till we felt the
bitterness aroused by the sight of that flag shaking out its red and white
folds over us."
A Georgia woman mourned over the loss of the old "liberty pole." Returned Rebel
soldiers had cut it down during the night rather than view the Union flag
flapping there. At Winston, North Carolina, a thousand spectators reportedly
gathered on the courthouse lawn to watch the raising of the Stars and Stripes.
Only a couple months later, however, this item appeared in a local newspaper:
           A DISLOYAL ACT - Some evil disposed person or persons... cut down
the United States flag and carried it off to parts unknown. It was a mean,
low, cowardly, disloyal act, and we hope those engaged in the black deed will
be ferreted out and brought to justice... An order was issued offering one
hundred dollars reward for the apprehension and conviction of the perpetrators.
Throughout the South, many deeply offended widows crossed the street rather
than pass under an American flag draped over the sidewalk.
For returning Rebel soldiers, the order to remove or cover CSA buttons from
their uniforms seemed to be rubbing their faces in defeat. Just how strictly
these rules were enforced depended upon the fiat of each commanding officer.
At New Orleans, General Nathaniel Banks was m charge. Confederates believed
that the officer from Massachusetts was particularly vindictive in peace
because he had "never won a battle' in war and had been derisively tagged
"Stonewall Jackson's Commissary." Rebel soldiers in the city were not
permitted to congregate in groups of three or more, and Black troops were
de1egated to cut the buttons from their coats. "I saw squads of them
dispersing little gatherings of Confederates," recalled a paroled prisoner,
'and I saw coats from which the buttons had been cut."
   John Worsham and his comrades thought it so foolish and such a petty
concern of the U.S. government that they paid the order no mind. The men
were shocked when Yankees stopped them in the streets and snipped off their
buttons.
   In a Savannah hotel, Whitelaw Reid watched as a drunken Union sergeant
cut the buttons from "an elegant gray-headed brigadier who had just come
in from Johns[t]on's army." The officer, Reid thought, "bore himself
modestly and very handsomely through it."
    "The one tiling which humiliated and angered a father more than anything
else," recalled a Richmond boy "was to be stopped by a Union sentinel at
9th and Green Streets and have the brass buttons cut off his coat and vest.
The poor man had no other clothes than his gray uniform."
   No soldier was exempt from this order, no matter what his physical state.
Observing hospitalized Rebels in Columbia, South Carolina, a lady commented,
"It was sad and touching to see these men, when able to be sitting up in
the grounds, cuffing off the offending button... thus toning down the
belligerent gray and transforming themselves into peaceful citizens."
   Rebels responded to this outrage according to the whims of their nature.
"Some of our boys put their discarded buttons in tobacco bags and jingled
them whenever a Yank comes within earshot,' wrote Eliza Andrews from Georgia.
"Some will not replace them at all, but leave their coats flying open to
tell the tale of spoliation. The majority, however, submit in dignified
silence to the humiliating decree."
   At Tazewell, Virginia, James Whitman seemingly displayed his buttons in
open defiance of the rule. When hauled before a Federal commander and asked
why he had not removed them, Whitman replied that 'the buttons were not U.S.
or Confederate buttons but the Virginia, [sic] semper tyrannis [thus ever
to tyrants] button, private property." Whitman challenged, "If you think
under the order they should be cut off, why not do so now."
   Though often humiliated and maddened, these men were luckier than
comrades elsewhere. In Nashville, laws prohibited hotels and restaurants
from serving men in gray. A former Confederate officer, hoping to have his
photograph taken one last time in gray, was arrested and Imprisoned for
donning his uniform on the streets of Hagerstown, Maryland. At Baltimore,
General Lew Wallace forbade even students from wearing their traditional
color. Gray, said Wallace, was "offensive." An Illinois newspaper even
suggested that henceforth only convicted criminals should wear the now
infamous color.
   Not only were uniforms, buttons and prayers proscribed, but any other
outward manifestation of the former Confederacy was forbidden. Those who
foolishly
expressed their sentiments in public did so at their peril . One drunk in
New Orleans who cried "Hurrah for the Southern Confederacy" during Mardi
Gras was sentenced to two years at hard labor in the Dry Tortugas.
   Thus, one by one, the victors took possession-body and soul-of the
vanquished. Forced to swear loyalty to a hated enemy, their private
thoughts censored, their public thoughts punished, the symbols of their
nationhood outlawed, their religion and prayers policed-there seemed no
haven nor sacred ground.
****************
   While the men and women of the South were undergoing their own personal
humiliation, the greatest indignities were reserved for the symbol of
Southern nationhood. Although his shackles had been mercifully removed,
the ordeal of America's leading political prisoner continued.
   "Found the prisoner very desponding, the failure of his sight troubling
him, and his nights almost without sleep. His present treatment was
killing him by inches, and he wished shorter work could be made of his
torment." So ran a typical report of John Craven, the federal physician
assigned to monitor Jefferson Davis.
   Doctor, the former Confederate president asked Craven: Had you ever
the consciousness of being watched? 0f having an eye fixed on you every
moment, intently scrutinizing your most minute actions, and the
variations of your countenance and posture. . . ? To have a human eye
visited on you in every moment of waking, or sleeping, sitting, walking,
or lying down, is a refinement of torture on anything the Comanches or
Spanish Inquisitors ever dreamed... This is a maddening, Incessant
torture of the mind, increasing with every moment it is endured... ,
Letting a single drop of water fall on the head every sixty seconds
does not hurt at first, but its -victim dies of raving agony, it is
alleged, if the infliction be continued. The torture of being incessantly
watched is, to the mind, what the water-dropping is to the body, but
more effective, as the mind is more susceptible to pain.. I confess,
Doctor, this torture of being watched begins to pray on my reason. The
lamp burning in my room all night would seem a torment devised by some
one who had intimate knowledge of my habits, my custom having been
through life never to sleep except in total darkness.
“I found him very feeble; prematurely old... He is evidently breaking
down...," concluded Dr. Craven. "There must be a change... or he would
go crazy, or blind, or both."
Hundreds of tourists and curiosity seekers were drawn to Fort Monroe
hoping to catch a glimpse of its celebrated charge. One of those was
Northern correspondent John Trowbridge, who pondered the life of the
prisoner within.
"I.. looked up at the modest window curtains, wondering what his thoughts
were, sitting there meditating his fallen fortunes. Did he enjoy his
cigar, and read the morning newspaper with interest?"