CHAPTER XIX.

EXECUTION OF MUMFORD.

THE crime for which Mumford suffered death has been already related. If in the act of tearing down the flag of his country, he had fallen dead upon the roof of the Mint, from the fire of the howitzers in the main-top of the Pensacola, no one could have charged aught against those who had the honor of that flag in charge. His offense was two-fold: he insulted the flag of his country, and endangered the lives of innocent fellow-citizens by drawing the fire of the fleet. His life was justly forfeited to the United States and to New Orleans. His life, moreover, was not a valuable one; he was one of those who live by preying upon society, not by serving it. He was a professional gambler. Rather a fine-looking man, tall, black-bearded; age forty-two.

After the occupation of the city by the troops, he still appeared in the streets, bold, reckless and defiant, one of the heroes of the populace. He was seen even in front of the St. Charles hotel, relating his exploit to a circle of admirers, boasting of it, daring the Union authorities to molest him. He did this once too often. He was arrested and tried by a military commission, who condemned him to death, and General Butler approved the sentence, and or dered its execution.

SPECIAL ORDER No. 10.

"NEW ORLEANS, June 5, 1862. "William B. Mumford, a citizen of New Orleans, having been convict ed before the military commission of treason and an overt act thereof, in tearing down the United States flag from a public building of the United States, for the purpose of inciting other evil-minded persons to farther resistance to the laws and arms of the United States, after said flag was placed there by Commodore Farragut, of the United States navy,

"It is ordered that he be executed, according to the sentence of the said military commission, on Saturday, June 7th instant, between the hours of 8 A. M. and 12 M., under the direction of the provost-marshal of the district of New Orleans; and for so doing, this shall be his sufficient warrant."

During his trial and after his condemnation, he showed neither fear nor contrition; evidently expected a commutation of his sen

tence, not believing that General Butler would dare execute it. His friends, the Thugs and gamblers of the city, openly defied the general; resolved, in council assembled, not to petition for his pardon; bound themselves to assassinate General Butler if Mumford were hanged. These things were duly reported to the general by his detective police, and were a common topic of conversation in the city. It was the almost universal belief that the condemned man would be brought to the gallows and there reprieved-according to the cruel blank-cartridge mode of weak governments.

While the friends of Mumford were thus building up a wall between him and the chance of pardon, the case was further complicated by the arrest and condemnation of the six paroled prisoners, part of the Monroe Guard, who had conspired to break away to the rebel camp. Their sentence also, the general approved:

GENERAL ORDER No. 36.

"New Orleans, May 31, 1862. "Abraham McLane, Daniel Doyle, Edward C. Smith, Patrick Kane, George L. Williams, and Wm. Stanley, all enlisted men in the forces of the supposed Confederate States, captured at the surrender of Forts St. Philip and Jackson, have violated their parole of honor, under which they, as prisoners of war, were permitted to return to their homes, instead of being confined in prison, as have the unfortunates of the United States soldiers, who, falling into the hands of the rebel chiefs, have languished for months in the closest durance.

"Warned by their officers that they must not do this thing, they deliberately organized themselves in military array-chose themselves and comrades officers, relying, as they averred, upon promises of prominent citizens of New Orleans for a supply of arms and equipments. They named themselves the Monroe Life Guard, in honor of the late inayor of New Orleans. They conspired together, and arranged the manner in which they might force the pickets of the United States, and thus join the enemy at Corinth.

"Tried before an impartial military commission-fully heard in their defense these facts appeared beyond doubt or contradiction, and they were convicted.

"There is no known pledge more sacred-there is no military offense whose punishment is better defined or more deserved. To this crime but one punishment has ever been assigned by any nation-Death.

"This sentence has been approved by the commanding general. To the end that all others may take warning-that solemn obligations may be preserved-that war may not lose all honorable ties-that clemency may not be abused, and that justice be done:

"It is ordered that Abraham McLane, Daniel Doyle, Edward C. Sinith, Patrick Kane, George L. Williams, and William Stanley be shot to death, under the direction of the provost-marshal, immediately after reveille, on Wednesday, the 4th day of June next; and for so doing, this shall be the provost-marshal's sufficient warrant."

Here were seven men under sentence of death at the same time -seven human lives hanging upon the word of one man. General Butler is not a person of the philanthropical or humanitarian cast of character; which is compatible with strange hardness of heart toward individuals. Nor is he unaware of the frightful cruelty to society of pardoning men justly condemned. He is abundantly

capable of preferring the good of the many to the convenience of one, and turning a deaf ear to the entreaties of a criminal, when, on the other hand, stands a wronged community asking protection, or an outraged country demanding justice upon its mortal foes. The fluid that courses his veins is blood, not milk and water. Nevertheless, he has the feelings that belong to a human being, and these seven forfeited lives hang heavy upon his heart.

In the case of Mumford he had no misgivings. He was able to endure the harrowing spectacle of the man's wife and three children falling upon their knees before him, begging the life of husband and father, and yet keep firmly to a just resolve. He was able to resist the tears and entreaties of his own tender-hearted wife, whose judgment he respected, to whose judgment he often deferred. Far more easily was he able to defy and scorn the threatenings of an impious clan of gamblers and ruffians. Mumford must die. That was the deliberate and changeless fiat of his best judgment.

Nor was he easily induced to alter his determination with regard to the six paroled prisoners. The events of the war had constantly deepened in his mind a sense of the general cruelty of pardons. He could not but think that the Union armies would not have lost a hundred thousand men by desertion, if, from the beginning, the just penalty of death had been inexorably inflicted; no, nor one thou sand; perhaps not one hundred. He had imbibed a horror of all those loose, irresolute, chicken-hearted modes of proceeding, which have cost the country such incalculable suffering and blood. It is instinctive in such a man to know that, in this world, the kindest, as well as the wisest of all things, is the rigid observance of just

law, the exact and prompt infliction of just penalty. So, between his sense of what was due to those six men, and his anxious consideration of extenuating circumstances, he lived many distracted days and nights. He could neither eat nor sleep.

The pressure upon him was intense, as it always is upon men whose word can save lives. Every body pleaded for them. His own officers besieged his ears for pardon. The officers of the condemned besought it. Union men of the city implored it. And at night, when the world was shut out, there was still a voice to repeat the arguments of the day. The six prisoners were poor, simple, ignorant souls. One of them had said, when arraigned before the commission, that he did not understand anything about this paroling.

"Paroling," said he, "is for officers and gentlemen: we are not gentlemen."

It is probable that this remark saved the lives of them all, for it suggested the line of argument and the kind of consideration which, probably, had most to do with changing the general's resolve. "We are not gentlemen,"-an admission which no northern prisoner would be likely to make. At the south those words really have a meaning; the poor people there feel a difference of rank between themselves and the lords of the plantation, and recognize a lower grade of personal obligation. A gentleman must keep his word; we poor people may get away if we can.

The earnest petition of those stanch Unionists, Mr. J. A. Rosier and Mr. T. J. Durant, had great weight with the general also. "These men," wrote they, 66 are justly liable to the condign punishment which the military law metes out to so grave and heinous an offense. But a powerful government never diminishes its strength by acts of clemency and mercy. No doubt, General, these men were partly driven by want, partly deluded, and have long been so; superior minds have heretofore given them false impressions, and they have been acting under such views as have at last brought them to the threshold of the grave. Unknown to us, even from report, prior to their trial and condemnation, we see in them only men and brethren who have erred and are in danger. General, the event has just shown that these men are unable to resist the force of the government, or elude its vigilance and the fidelity of its officers. They are subdued and powerless. Their case excites

our commiseration, and that of hundreds of others. We ask you to have mercy upon them. At the present moment the government needs no excessive rigor to enforce obedience or command respect. Pardon their offense. The act will restore them to sobriety of reason and to useful employment. It will fill them with gratitude to you and to the powerful government you represent. It will demonstrate the mildness of its authority, and convince our fellowcitizens that mercy and clemency, no less than force and strength, are essential attributes of the power you represent. General, receive this prayer for life, in the spirit which dictates it—an earnest and heartfelt desire to promote reconciliation and peace."

To this letter, which was received the day before the one named for the execution, General Butler replied:

"Your communication has received, as it deserved, most serious consideration. The representations of gentlemen of your known probity, intelligence, high social position, and thorough acquaintance with the character, temper, habits of thought and motives of action of the people of New Orleans, ought to have great and determining weight with me, a stranger among you, called upon to act promptly under the best light I may in matters affecting the administration of justice. In addition, your well-known and fully appreciated unswerving attachment to the government of the United States, renders it certain that nothing but the best interests of the country could have influenced your opinion.

"Of the justice which calls for the death of these men I can have no doubt. The mercy it would be to others, in like cases tempted to offend, to have the terrible example of the punishment to which these misguided men are sentenced, is the only matter left for dit. cussion.

"Upon this question you who have suffered for the Union, whe have stood by it in evil and in good report-you who have lived and are hereafter to live in this city as your home, when all are gathered again under the flag which has been so foully outraged, and to whose wrongs these men's lives are forfeit—you who, I have heard, exerted your talents to save the lives of Union men in the hour of their peril, ought to have a determining weight when your opinions have been deliberately formed. You ask for these men's lives. You shall have them. You say that the clemency of the government is best for the cause we all have at heart. Be it so. You