Andersonville Prison Photograph
This photograph of Andersonville Prison in Georgia was taken on August 17, 1864 and depicts a northwest view of the prison stockade. The photograph, an albumen print, was printed sometime between 1880 and 1889 and is currently held in the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division. Col. Godwin Ordway gifted the print in 1948.
This photograph offers clear visual evidence of the living conditions at Andersonville Prison. It depicts the poorly constructed, shabby tents that served as the prisoners’ only shelter. Many of these tents are exceedingly rudimentary, providing minimal protection from the elements. The view of the tent in the far right foreground clearly shows the degree to which many prisoners were exposed. Other structures appear to offer better shelter, such as the rectangular one whose opening faces the camera. There is thus no uniformity in housing conditions, with some tents offering greater protection than others. These differences likely depended on the luck and resourcefulness of individual prisoners, who had to provide for their own shelter after arriving at Andersonville, as no barracks were constructed.
Furthermore, there does not appear to be much order in the prison’s interior. The tents are not formed in orderly lines, but are grouped together in a haphazard and disordered condition. Many prisoners are visible in the picture, but their images are often obscured and appear as ghostlike silhouettes. One prisoner in suspenders in the left foreground, however, can be clearly seen from behind as he tilts to the right. The stockade fence of the prison can be seen in the left background, with a scattering of trees beyond.
This source is important because it offers a glimpse of what the prison looked like. It demonstrates the poor living conditions at Andersonville, the disparities in shelter quality, and the general disorganization of the prison. This photograph provides a clear image of what Andersonville prison looked like when it was in operation.
Andersonville Prisoner Photograph
This photograph depicts an unnamed Union soldier at the U.S. General Hospital in Annapolis, Maryland. The prisoner had been returned from Andersonville Prison in Georgia. Surgeon A. Hill Messinger took the photograph on an uncertain date. The photo, one half of a stereograph, is an albumen print, printed between 1880 and 1889. Col. Godwin Ordway gifted the photograph in 1948, and it is held in the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division.
This horrific image shows a terribly emaciated prisoner of war. The individual is severely malnourished and underweight, presenting a shockingly skeletal figure. His skin is taut about his bones. His ribs, pelvic bones, knee joints, and shoulders are revealed in stark definition, with virtually no muscle or fat to conceal them. His hands are unnaturally contorted. The prisoner’s face is gaunt, with cavernous cheeks and dark shadows concealing the eyes beneath his brow. The toes of his arched feet rest uneasily on the ground. His elbows angularly protrude from his limp, sticklike arms.
This photograph reveals the human toll Andersonville exacted on its prisoners. The lack of scarcity of food rations, poor shelter, lack of sanitation, disease, and competition against other prisoners for survival took a great toll on prisoners. This image strikingly shows the human suffering that took place at Andersonville. The previous photograph depicts some of the living conditions, but the photograph of the skeletal survivor drives home the terrible effects of those conditions. This picture fully demonstrates the tragic consequences of living at Andersonville. The starvation and disease at the camp was so severe that prisoners like the one pictured grew horribly emaciated. Perhaps more terrible are the thousands of dead who were not photographed.
Samuel Elliot Diary Entry
Thursday 25.-Charles Jarimer, a recruit of our company, and a bunk-mate of mine, died to-day, after a long and painful illness; helped to carry his body to the “dead house”-a house built in the rear of the hospital, outside the stockade. There were about twenty-five other bodies, most of which had been stripped of all their clothing, and were so black and swollen they could not be recognized. While I was there I saw them piling the bodies one on top of the other, into the wagon, to be hauled to their graves or ditches. I passed through the hospital on my way back, and the sights I saw there were enough to make one sick: the tents were filled with what could once have been called men, but were now nothing but mere skeletons. The short time I was there I saw several die. A man is never admitted to the hospital until there is no hope of his recovery, and when once there it is seldom, if ever, he returns.
This is a diary entry for the date of August 25, 1864 made by Samuel Elliot, a prisoner at Andersonville in Georgia. As noted by Brenna McKelvey on Dickinson College’s Civil War research engine, “House Divided,” Samuel Elliot belonged to the 36th Regiment of the 7th Pennsylvania Volunteer Corps. He was captured during the Battle of the Wilderness and was taken to Andersonville Prison. The transcript of his August 25 entry was adapted from The History of Pennsylvania Volunteers, 1861-1865 (1869).
In the entry, Elliot remarks that his bunkmate died and that he helped bring his body to the “dead house” beyond the prison stockade. Elliot presents a harrowing picture of death as it was experienced at Andersonville Prison. He describes a collection of naked corpses “so black and swollen they could not be recognized.” He watches bodies being stacked into a wagon to be buried or thrown into ditches. This description of the effects death has on bodies, the sheer volume of dead, and the manner in which bodies are stripped naked and buried in large groups is disturbing. These passages clearly demonstrate the dehumanizing effects that death on a large scale had on those at Andersonville.
Elliot’s description of the prison hospital is equally horrifying. He describes the patients as those that “could once have been called men, but were now nothing but mere skeletons” and remarks that many man died while he was briefly passingly through the hospital. He explains that men are sent to the hospital when they are so ill they are unlikely to survive and rarely return from it. The dehumanization wrought at Andersonville is not limited to the dead, but applies to the living as well. Elliot views the dying men in the hospital as no longer men, but as skeletons. The suffering Elliot saw at Andersonville had a profound effect on him as he remarks that the scenes he witnessed in the hospital “were enough to make one sick.” As his diary entry shows, Elliot remained sensitive to the dehumanization and death at Andersonville and was deeply troubled by it.
Calvin Bates Amputation
This source contains a photograph of Corporal Calvin Bates, Co. E, 20th Maine Infantry, after his feet were amputated. His treatment at Andersonville was so poor that they had decayed, necessitating such action. The photograph is an albumen print and is held by the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division. Bates’ testimony is printed on the reverse side of the photograph.
In his testimony, Bates explains that he was taken prisoner during the Battle of the Wilderness and taken to Andersonville. He describes the conditions of the camp, stating the men were provided with no shelter. Men were required to burrow into the ground to protect themselves from the elements. He notes that this exposure led to the decay of his feet, requiring them to be “cut off at the ankle with scissors.” Prior to his time at Andersonville, he claims to have been healthy. These descriptions offer evidence of the terrible harms imprisonment at Andersonville brought to many of its prisoners.
The photograph depicts an emaciated Bates on a bed, lying on his side with his arms crossed. The amputation already having occurred, his legs end in stumps at the ankles. Two men look from behind him into the camera, with expressions that appear to recognize the gravity of the scene before them. This image and Bates’ testimony demonstrate the lingering the experience at Andersonville had on survivors. Bates was only imprisoned in Andersonville between May and September 1864, but in those few months, the conditions there irrevocably altered his life. He lost a tremendous amount of weight and he lost his feet to decay. One can only speculate as to the lasting psychological effects of such an experience.
Andersonville and Fortress Monroe
This source is a wood engraving that contrasts the treatment of Union prisoners at Andersonville with Jefferson Davis’ treatment while imprisoned at Fortress Monroe. The engraving was made by Thomas Nast and was published by King and Baird, Printers, of Philadelphia in 1865. It is housed in the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division.
This source contrasts two images. The upper image depicts Union prisoners at Andersonville. They are in a state of abject suffering. Their bodies are emaciated and their clothes are in tatters. One man lies prostrate on the ground and another puts his face in his hands in despair. Dilapidated tents surround them while Confederate guards look on at ease, with their hands on their hips. This scene of suffering is contrasted with a depiction of Jefferson Davis at Fortress Monroe. He sits well clothed in an armchair, with his legs extended. He appears to be surrounded by several attendants, all with the objective of making his imprisonment comfortable (one attendant even waves a fan). The Andersonville scene is described with the adjectives “sickness, starvation, death” while the Fortress Monroe scene is described with “health, plenty, luxury.”
While the primary purpose of this engraving is to criticize what the artist perceives as the far too lenient treatment of Jefferson Davis at Fortress Monroe, it offers valuable insights into contemporary understandings of what happened at Andersonville. The suffering of Union prisoners at Andersonville left an indelible mark in the North’s consciousness. In this engraving, Andersonville becomes an emblem of Southern abuse and inhumanity and thus a reason to seek revenge on prominent Southern leaders like Davis. The horrible conditions at Andersonville and the effects they had on the prisoners left a deep mark in postwar memory as a particularly horrible moment of wartime suffering.
Harper’s Weekly on Execution of Henry Wirz
This exhibit can be viewed on the American Antiquarian Society (AAS) Historical Periodicals Collection: Series 4 database.
The November 25, 1865, publication of Harper’s Weekly provided a detailed description of the execution of Henry Wirz, the Confederate commander at Andersonville Prison. The article reveals the intense anger many Northerners felt regarding the atrocities that took place at Andersonville. The article explains that contrary to common practice, the spectators of Wirz’s death loudly cheered, stating, “the shock usually incident to the spectacle of a violent death is overpowered by the popular rejoicing on account of the extinction of a monster of cruelty.” This language reveals the deep animus Northerners held toward those responsible for Andersonville.
The article takes pains to note that Wirz was treated fairly and provided the necessary comforts of life, in stark contrast to the want and suffering experienced by prisoners under his care. The description of jeering spectators and jubilant shouts upon his death would suggest that the desire for revenge was important in the minds of many, but the author asserts that this execution was not motived by retaliation but “by the stern sentence of judicial authority.” The article deliberately contrasts the perceived inhumanity of Wirz with the deliberate justice and humanity of his treatment by the North. Yet the descriptions of Wirz as a “monster of cruelty” and “inhuman jailer” sound as though they are motivated by revenge rather than by dispassionate justice.
This article is important because it reveals the intensity of feeling to which Andersonville stirred Northern public opinion. The article explains that tickets were sold to the execution, suggesting a widespread desire to see the man hanged. Wirz was to many Northerners the chief architect of the horrible suffering thousands of soldiers experienced at Andersonville. The descriptions of emaciated and diseased men cramped into dilapidated tents presented images so horrible in the minds of many that the death of Wirz was necessary to appease the ghosts of Andersonville.
The Civil War Prison System 