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 recog nize 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, "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 discussion.

"Upon this question you who have suffered for the Union, who 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

are likely to be better informed upon this than I am. I have no wish to do anything but that which will show the men of Louisiana how great a good they were tempted to throw away when they were led to raise their hands against the constitution and laws of the United States.

"If this example of mercy is lost upon those in the same situation, swift justice can overtake others in like manner offending." The men were reprieved, and consigned to Ship Island "during the pleasure of the president of the United States." This was on the fourth of June. Mumford was to die on the seventh.

The scaffold was erected in front of the Mint, near the scene of his crime. To the last minute General Butler was earnestly implored to spare him. The venerable Dr. Mercer, a man of eighty honorable years, once the familiar friend and frequent host of Henry Clay, a gentleman of boundless generosity and benevolence, the patron of all that redeemed New Orleans, came to head-quarters an hour before the execution, to ask for Mumford's life.

"Give me this man's life, General," said he, while the tears rolled down his aged cheeks. "It is but a scratch of your pen."

"True," replied the general. "But a scratch of my pen could burn New Orleans. I could as soon do the one act as the other. I think one would be as wrong as the other."

In truth, the reprieve of the six had rendered the saving of Mumford impossible. That act of mercy, like all the rest of General Butler's acts in New Orleans, was utterly misinterpreted by the people, who attributed it to weakness and cowardice. It was, and is, the conviction of the best informed officers and Union citizens then in New Orleans, that upon the question of hanging or sparing Mumford depended the final suppression or the continued turbulence of the mob of the city. Mumford hanged, the mob was subdued. Mumford spared, the mob remained to be quelled by final grape and canister. There was absolutely needed for the peaceful government of the city, a certainty that General Butler dared hang a rebel.

Mumford met his doom with the composure with which bad men usually die. He said that "the offense for which he was condemned was committed under excitement, and he did not consider he was suffering justly. He conjured all who heard him to act justly to all men; to rear their children properly; and when they met death

they would meet it firmly. He was prepared to die; and as he had never wronged any one, he hoped to receive mercy."

"The unconscious is the alone complete," says the German poet. It is only good people who, on the approach of death, are dismayed and ashamed at reviewing their lives-comparing what might have been with what has been.

An immense concourse beheld the execution. The turbulent spirits of New Orleans drew the proper inferences from the scene. Every one concerned in the administration of justice in the city felt a certain confidence, before unfelt, in their ability to rule the city without violence. Every soldier felt safer; and the friends of the Union had an assurance that, at length, they were really on the stronger side. Order reigned in Warsaw.

The name of Mumford, if we may believe Confederate newspapers, was immediately added to the "roll" of martyrs to the cause of liberty. The fugitive governor of Louisiana, from some safe retreat up the river, fulminated a proclamation about this time, in which he commented upon the death of Mumford in the style of eloquence familiar to the readers of De Bow's Review-a curious mixture of Patrick Henry and Bedlam.

"The loss of New Orleans," said he, "and the opening of the Mississippi, which will soon follow, have greatly increased our danger, and deprived us of many resources for defense. With less means, we have more to do than before. Every weapon we have, and all that our skillful mechanics can make, will be needed. Let every citizen be an armed sentinel, to give warning of any approach of the insolent foe. Let all our river banks swarm with armed patriots, to teach the hated invader that the rifle will be his only welcome on his errands of plunder and destruction. Wherever he dares to raise the hated emblem of tyranny, tear it down, and rend it in tatters.

"The noble heroism of the patriot Mumford, has placed his name high on the list of our martyred sons. When the federal navy reached New Orleans, a squad of marines was sent on shore, who hoisted their flag on the Mint. The city was not occupied by the United States troops, nor had they reached there.. The place was not in their possession. William B. Mumford pulled down the detested symbol with his own hands, and for that was condemned to be hung by General Butler after his arrival. Brought in full

1

view of the scaffold, his murderers hoped to appall his heroic soul, by the exhibition of the implements of ignominious death. With the evidence of their determination to consummate their brutal purpose before his eyes, they offered him life on the condition that he would abjure his country, and swear allegiance to her foe. He spurned the offer. Scorning to stain his soul with such foul dishonor, he met his fate courageously, and has transmitted to his countrymen a fresh example of what men will do and dare when under the inspiration of fervid patriotism. I shall not forget the outrage of his murder, nor shall it pass unatoned.

"I am not introducing any new regulations for the conduct of our citizens, but am only placing before them those that every nation at war recognizes as necessary and proper to be enforced. It is needless, therefore, to say that they will not be relaxed. Ou the contrary, I am but awaiting the assistance and presence of the general appointed to the department, to inaugurate the most effectual method for their enforcement. It is well to repeat them:

"Trading with the enemy is prohibited under all circumstances. "Traveling to and from New Orleans and other places occupied by the enemy is forbidden. All passengers will be arrested.

"Citizens going to those places, and returning with the enemy's usual passport, will be arrested.

66

Conscripts or militia-men, having in possession such passports, and seeking to shun duty, under the pretext of a parole, shall be treated as public enemies. No such papers will be held as sufficient excuse for inaction by any citizen.

"The utmost vigilance must be used by officers and citizens in the detection of spies and salaried informers, and their apprehension promptly effected.

"Tories must suffer the fate that every betrayer of his country deserves.

"Confederate notes shall be received and used as the currency of the country.

"River steamboats must, in no case, be permitted to be captured. Burn them when they can not be saved.

"Provisions may be conveyed to New Orleans only in charge of officers, and under the precautionary regulations governing communication between belligerents.

"The loss of New Orleans, bitter humiliation as it was to Louisi