Camp and Prison Journal
by Griffin Frost
The journal of Captain Griffin Frost was written throughout the war, much
of it while Frost was a prisoner at Gratiot Street Prison and Alton Prison and
is one of the very few published primary sources available on Gratiot. He
published it in 1867 in response to the outcry against southern treatment of
prisoners in places like Andersonville. Frost hoped to make it clear that
northern treatment of prisoners was just as bad as southern. In this perspective
the book was a failure for though deathrates were comparable in northern and
southern prisons, the conditions in Gratiot were entirely unlike those in
Andersonville, something that becomes immediately and abundantly clear when
reading his narrative.
Frost was a newspaper editor and may have rewritten or enhanced some
portions of his journal before publication. The portions that leap out in this
regard are the occasional pro-southern/anti-northern mini-rants he indulges in
which stand out jarringly at times from the flow of the rest of the narrative.
On the other hand, Frost was a writer and he was bored with the tedium of prison
life so may have unleashed his writing exuberance at times in his journal. He
clearly is a skilled writer and writes a lively, interesting tale even in short
entries. His information about events taking place around him is not always
correct--something that may surprise a reader taking a journal written at the
time as being a wholly reliable source. But Frost was limited by his perspective
and the information he got and so sometimes reports as fact things that were
only rumor. Annotations throughout will try to clarify these moments.
Points in Frost's writing that grate most on the present-day reader (or so
one hopes) are his occasional racial comments. They are harsh and wholly
insulting yet will be included here without editing as they do reveal an
important aspect of the times and the thought processes that needs to be faced
squarely and not glossed over. Try to view these passages in their historical
context yet also be aware they do not represent the views of all people at that
time, yet by the some token were shared by a number of people from both
sides of the conflict.
Though Frost's narrative covers his entire wartime experience, only those
portions that take place in Gratiot or Alton will be presented on this website.
March - April 1864
MARCH 5, 1864.—Received orders to-day to get ready for St. Louis. Obeyed and started;
within a square of the prison met Mr. Bradley who knew of the order, and came to
accompany me. When we neared the depot we discovered that we were too late for
the cars. Mr. B. requested of Col. W. permission for me to remain with him in
the city until Monday, when I am to start again for St. Louis, but was denied. I
was ordered into my old quarters. Mr. B. is quite hopeful in my case, and
thinks there is no doubt of my being with my family soon. I trust he may be
correct, for I am not like the "young man who has long lain in the grave for his
own amusement."
MONDAY, March 7, 1864.—I hail this morning from the old homestead, the venerable
"Mother of learning," (to suffer) the classic shades of Gratiot’s walls. How
strikingly familiar are the strong locks, the iron bars, the boarded windows,
the thumping of balls and clanking of chains, and even the posts in the yard,
around which Carlin, Grimes, Sebring and others, froze while they sung, making
music with their chains, the mockingly suggestive chorus, "Hard times come again
no more." Mr. Bradley has gone home, and I am not released. The whole matter is
postponed indefinitely; some little quibble about the papers. So I resign myself
once more to the humdrum existence of a prison monotony.
MARCH 9, 1864.—Discovered yesterday some changes in our official circles. Masterson
and Burns are both removed—the latter, though ever kind to me, and gentlemanly
in his conduct, has left I find with some, as bad a name as Masterson. I cannot
believe it was in the man’s nature to be cruel, except as he was compelled to be
in obedience to orders; Masterson was cruel, ungentlemanly, and insulting, in a
purely personal manner. New prisoners are constantly coming in from the South.
Some ten or twelve officers from near Little Rock were brought in last night,
among whom I recognized an old acquaintance, Capt. Hobbs, C. S. A. It is a pity
Capt. Masterson was removed quite so soon, as a brick wall is being built
between the lamp house and street which will effectually prevent us from
catching a glimpse of the dear ladies as they pass. I suppose they think they
will spite somebody by building it, and in my case I will admit they succeed.
MARCH 13, 1864.—Last Saturday we scrubbed out our quarters and when through, I was so
much fatigued as to be compelled to lie down. Suffered all night with neuralgia
and next day felt very unwell. Monday I had a letter from my wife. She was so
bitterly disappointed when Mr. Bradley arrived without me. She had Annie with
her, and was waiting at the depot with a buggy to take me home. She knew I had
been sick, and expected to find me feeble, and so was all prepared to take
charge of an invalid husband. Tuesday and Wednesday were dull heavy days, and
prison life seemed more gloomy than ever before. To-day a new order has been
issued changing the aspect of affairs, and making a very material improvement in
our condition. A sutler has been appointed for the prison, and we are permitted
to buy whatever he chooses to keep, or we to order in the way of provisions; the
only difficulty now is, the money to buy with. It can be furnished by our
friends on the outside, and will be, in most cases, but such as have no friends
to whom they can apply, must suffer on as before, and there are more of this
class than one would imagine. We have availed ourselves of the new programme so
far as to purchase some apples, which we have enjoyed as those outside can never
know anything about.
MARCH 18, 1864.—Had last night some fine music on the guitar, by Joe Leddy, who
sometime since at Batesville, Ark., was sentenced to be hung, but the sentence
being commuted, he was sent from there here, and is now locked up night and day.
It was sweet and sad to hear his mellow notes warbling out from his gloomy cage.
We listened while song after song poured itself forth, now low and tender, now
deep and grand, and anon wild, strong, and thrilling. Music at all times
pleasant, is entrancing here.
MARCH 25, 1864.—It is useless to repeat that time drags heavily—the old complaint is
worn threadbare—yet every day that comes and goes, but adds another link to this
chain of incontestable truth, "time drags heavily." A week has elapsed—fourteen
of us occupy a room sixteen feet square. It is thick standing up, but when we
wish to lie down, it is somewhat crowded. I spread my pallet on the table and
thus escape the jam.
On Sunday a lot of Feds from Myrtle prison, were placed in with us having been
fighting among themselves. One of them had his nose bitten off. They were as
hard a looking set as I have seen; after remaining a short time in our quarters
they were taken to a strong room and put under lock and key. Wife writes, they
have not despaired of my release and are still working to obtain it. Yesterday
morning we had a "dashing" time for a few minutes, hot coffee flew in abundance,
it ended by one man getting his head cut with a cup. It was not exactly a
"tempest in a tea-pot" but one very much mixed with coffee. Altogether it was a
foolish affair; with the common enemy leagued against us, there should be peace
among ourselves.
I was surprised to find among a lot of new arrivals my old friends Col. and Sam.
Winston, who were captured in Platte county, Mo. They have been imprisoned at
St. Joseph, and while there, the Col. got into trouble with some Federal horse
thieves, about forty of whom were in the same prison, they handled him pretty
roughly, giving him a "black eye" which he brings into Gratiot.
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For more information on Robert
Louden see The Boat-Burners; Sabotage
of the Sultana, also Prisoner Notes.
The little girl described here is his daughter Mollie Louden, the "little
baby sister" is Annie, born in Feb. 1864. Louden's wife Mary in April 1863
had been held in the same cell Robert was now in. |
MARCH, 26, 1864.—Col. Winston was called before Gen. Rosecrans to-day, who lectured
him severely for being inside the Federal lines, asking him if he did not know
that he had laid himself liable to be tried and hung as a spy. Witnessed a sad
and affecting sight, such as too often occurs in a military prison. Capt.
Sullivan carried up the little daughter of Mr. Robert Loudon to see her father.
She could not be admitted within his cell, but the kind hearted Captain held her
up so she could kiss her father through the iron bars; he put his hands through
and touched her soft silken hair, and asked her if she nursed little baby
sister. Then he kissed her again, and told her to kiss her ma for him. Capt. S.
is liked by all the prisoners, but it is feared he will not be permitted to
remain long in charge as he has too much soul for the position.
TUESDAY, April 5, 1864.—On the night of my last writing, an attempt was made to dig
through the wall into the building of the Christian Brothers, but unfortunately
it was discovered before the design was completed and no escape was made. Those
engaged in the enterprise were promptly locked up. Mr. Bradley wrote me a few
days since, informing me that my brother Dan., a Colonel in the Federal army,
had written to Gen. Rosecrans concerning my release. My friends are very kind
indeed, and I am truly grateful, but it makes me sad every time I see a man go
out on oath and bond; every one seems a stroke of the funeral bell for our
beloved South: it will be a sorrowful day when I throw my shovel of dirt and
march away. It appears however that it is going to be my fate to be reserved for
one of the "watchers." The following document was sent me this morning from Head
Quarters:
HEAD QUARTERS, DEPT. OF THE MISSOURI,}
OFFICE OF THE PROVOST MARSHAL GENERAL,}
St. Louis, April 4, 1864.}
Special Order, No. 89.
The instructions of the Commanding General, directing the release of Capt.
Griffin Frost, of the rebel army, having been revoked by Special Order No. 66,
par. "G," Head Quarters, Department of the Missouri, of date of March 7, 1864,
he will be transferred under guard from Gratiot street prison to the Military
prison at Alton, Ill., to serve out his sentence.
J. P. SANDERSON, Provost Marshal Gen.
Capt. GRIFFIN FROST, Gratiot St. Prison.
APRIL, 12, 1864.—Heard last week that a number of prisoners had escaped from Alton. My
brother John has been sent from there to Fort Delaware, it seems he finds the
latter place a little too tough even for his philosophy. Says he very much
prefers Alton. He tells as much as he dares, but what John says means a good
deal. He is by no means disposed to be a grumbler, and things have to be bad
indeed when he complains. Four thousand prisoners are there awaiting exchange.
Having been there myself on a similar errand, but when the crowd was not so
great, I can form some idea of the situation. May the good Lord put it into the
heart of old Stanton to allow an exchange soon. Col. Winston was out before the
Provost on Saturday in company with other officers. Sunday they were preparing
to send off a number of prisoners, about 140 privates, who left Monday.
Forty-one officers left to-day for Johnson’s Island, where they go to wait for
exchange. Would it could be general, and take us all. If the South could gather
up all her waste material, she might be strong enough to make a good rally yet.
A Federal prisoner named Cantrel, disputed the word of Lieut. Sebring this
morning, when the latter pitched into him and gave him a genteel pummelling
leaving a rather ugly cut near the left eye. Matters rested thus until
breakfast, when Cantrel slipped up behind Sebring and with a lick unbottomed a
bucket over the latter’s head. After which he made all possible speed to the
office, on going down stairs he ran against McGinnis and upset a bucket of sugar
he was carrying, but nothing stopped Cantrel until he had reported the affair,
and was transferred to other quarters, for well he knew that he had best keep
out of Sebring’s way.
APRIL, 13, 1864.—I give this day a special mark, for reasons hereafter explained. This
morning I was placed back in my old quarters, with the windows on the gallery
opened. It is most refreshingly pleasant I find myself for once, with no
reasonable cause of complaint, a circumstance so rare, I think it demands
notice. My room is comfortable; we are allowed to buy provisions and newspapers
are not prohibited. I have said before that Capt. Sullivan is a gentleman. Well,
I was ordered before the Provost. Nobody could inform me what was wanted.
Getting ready—a guard with his musket took me in charge and we reported at the
Provost’s. At the door I met an old gentleman, Mr. Daniel McLoud, of Marion
county, Mo., whom I knew; after shaking hands, I went into the office, and there
sat my wife and child. The former I saw but a short time fifteen months ago, but
the little Annie, not since the war commenced—then she could not talk—now she is
equal to an old woman. Our interview lasted nearly three hours. My wife still
entertains a hope of my speedy release. When I could stay no longer I bade them
an affectionate farewell and reluctantly came back to my prison. My sweet little
daughter—she seemed like some bright fairy, or ministering spirit, as she clung
round my neck and nestled her head of shining clustering curls so lovingly on my
bosom. My noble wife has been a true mother to our darling child. I can write on
no other subject—have room for no other thought, so I will close for to-night.
APRIL 17, 1864.—Thursday was a cold disagreeable day, no sensation whatever. Nobody
had a laugh, none a fuss, and the musical fountains were all frozen. So we sat
the day out like a Quaker meeting. Friday some ladies came in. I don’t know who
they were, or on what errand of mercy they descended, but as we saw them enter
and heard the low music of their gentle voices, we felt like that Peri, who,
"At the gate
Of Eden stood, disconsolate:
And as she listened to the springs
Of life within, like music flowing,
And caught the light upon her wings
Through the half open portal glowing,
She wept, "
Saturday some of the occupants of Myrtle street prison, were turned over to the
tender care and keeping of the Gratiot authorities. Among the number was a son
of Judge Soward, of Canton, Mo., who was assigned to our mess. On that day we
scrubbed and whitewashed our quarters. To-day we are very nice and comfortable,
enjoying the fruit of yesterday’s industry, so we concluded we would celebrate
the occasion by having a good dinner, and got one of the sergeants to take a
bucket and go out and hail a milk man:
"What’s wanted?" asked the vender of food for babes.
"A bucket of milk for the prisoners," was the reply.
Gathering up his lines, and giving his horses a crack, he started off, saying:
"I never have, and never will, sell anything to rebels."
The good natured sergeant had no other alternative but to return with his empty
bucket, and thus faded the bright anticipations which clustered around the good
dinner "that might have been." More prisoners arrived to-day.
APRIL 26, 1864.—On Monday we were fully compensated for the failure of our negotiation
with the milk man by Miss Laura Elder’s sending us an abundant lot of delicious
cake, which we relished as none but prisoners know how. Tuesday a scrap of
gossip from Rock Island was handed round; it seems that one of their prisoners,
a portly young fellow in Confederate grey, was lately delivered of a fine boy—a
new recruit for Uncle Jeff, of course.
Wednesday had a letter from home saying that Gen. Rosecrans had power to release
all sentenced prisoners, and as I am in that category hopes are entertained of a
favorable action in my case. The monotony of Thursday was broken by Lieut.
Sebring’s receiving from Miss Lucy Glasscock, of Ralls county, Mo., a choice
variety of most tempting edibles. Ab. C. Grimes was also remembered from the
same source. The regiment which has been guarding us was removed on Friday and
sent South, some cavalry from Michigan taking their place. We were sorry to
witness the change, for the officers of the old regiment were gentlemen, and we
had some excellent friends among the men. While they were strict in enforcing
orders, they harrassed the prisoners with no petty personal malice or
contemptible exhibition of ephemeral power. The new authorities are yet to be
tried, they appear to have seen service, which is an argument in their favor. We
will forbear comment, and watch the course of events. Yesterday it rained hard
all day, continuing through the night, and the clouds are not taken in today.
Some ladies however, ventured through the damp to church; wonder if they will
hear any prayers offered up for the "prisoners in our midst." One thing, they’ll
hear sure, is the President prayed for. An old Baptist preacher at Hannibal,
named Cleavland, had a cannon drawn on him to make him pray for Old Abe, but
that was early in the war and I guess they are all whipped into the traces by
this time. Abraham ought to be a blessed and fortunate individual, when so many
prayers are forced to "spurt out" at the point of the bayonet for him. Our room
has become much crowded again, which interferes materially with any effort at
comfort, we have hardly room to lie down on the floor, and when all are up
stirring about it is impossible to read or write with any pleasure; every one
following the bent of his peculiar humor converts the place at times into a
perfect Bedlam. I manage to write a few letters, and jot a few lines now and
then in my journal, but it is toiling against wind and tide.
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