Dinner with General Maury—Amazing Reminiscences of “Stonewall” Jackson—Through Montgomery, Atlanta, and Chattanooga—At General Hardee’s Headquarters—The General’s Flirtations—General Polk Invites Me to Stay at Shelbyville—The Fury of Southern Women—I Call on General Bragg—In the South, an Aggrieved Husband Is Free to Shoot—“How Can You Subdue Such a Nation as This!”
25th May (Monday)—I was disappointed in the aspect of Mobile. It is a regular rectangular American city, built on a sandy flat and covering a deal of ground for its population, which is about 25,000.
I called on General Maury, for whom I brought a letter of introduction from General Johnston. He is a very gentlemanlike and intelligent but diminutive Virginian, and had only just assumed the command at Mobile.1
He was very civil, and took me in a steamer to see the sea defenses. We were accompanied by General Ledbetter the engineer, and we were six hours visiting the forts.
Mobile is situated at the head of a bay thirty miles long. The blockading squadron, eight to ten in number, is stationed outside the bay. Its entrance is defended by Forts Morgan and Gaines; but as the channel between these two forts is a mile wide, they might probably be passed.
Within two miles of the city, however, the bay becomes very shallow, and the ship channel is both dangerous and tortuous. It is, moreover, obstructed by double rows of pine piles, and all sorts of ingenious torpedoes, besides being commanded by carefully constructed forts, armed with heavy guns, and built either on islands or on piles.2
Their names are Fort Pinto, Fort Spanish River, Apalache, and Blakeley.*
The garrisons of these forts complained of their being unhealthy, and I did not doubt the assertion. Before landing, we boarded two ironclad floating batteries. The Confederate fleet at Mobile is considerable, and reflects great credit upon the energy of the Mobilians, as it has been constructed since the commencement of the war. During the trip, I overheard General Maury soliloquizing over a Yankee flag, and saying, “Well, I never should have believed that I could have lived to see the day in which I should detest that old flag.” He is cousin to Lieutenant Maury, who has distinguished himself so much by his writings, on physical geography especially. The family seems to be a very military one. His brother is captain of the Confederate steamer Georgia.
After landing, I partook of a hasty dinner with General Maury and Major Cummins. I was then mounted on the General’s horse, and was sent to gallop round the land defenses with Brigadier General Slaughter and his staff. By great good fortune this was the evening of General Slaughter’s weekly inspection, and all the redoubts were manned by their respective garrisons, consisting half of soldiers and half of armed citizens who had been exempted from the conscription either by their age or nationality, or had purchased substitutes. One of the forts was defended by a burly British guard, commanded by a venerable Captain Wheeler.**
After visiting the fortifications, I had supper at General Slaughter’s house, and met there some of the refugees from New Orleans. These are now being huddled neck and crop out of that city for refusing to take the oath of allegiance to the United States. Great numbers of women and children are arriving at Mobile every day. They are in a destitute condition, and they add to the universal feeling of exasperation. The propriety of raising the black flag, and giving no quarter, was again freely discussed at General Slaughter’s, and was evidently the popular idea.
I heard many anecdotes of the late “Stonewall” Jackson, who was General Slaughter’s comrade in the artillery of the old army. It appears that previous to the war he was almost a monomaniac about his health. When he left the U.S. service, he was under the impression that one of his legs was getting shorter than the other. Afterwards his idea was that he only perspired on one side, and that it was necessary to keep the arm and leg of the other side in constant motion in order to preserve the circulation; but it seems that immediately the war broke out, he never made any further allusion to his health. General Slaughter declared that on the night after the terrific repulse of Burnside’s army at Fredericksburg, “Stonewall” Jackson had made the following suggestion: “I am of opinion that we ought to attack the enemy at once; and in order to avoid the confusion and mistakes so common in a night attack, I recommend that we should all strip ourselves perfectly naked.”†
Blockade-running goes on very regularly at Mobile. The steamers nearly always succeed, but the schooners are generally captured. Tomorrow I shall start for the Tennessean army, commanded by General Braxton Bragg.
26th May (Tuesday)—When I took Colonel Ewell’s pass to the provost-marshal’s office this morning to be countersigned that official hesitated about stamping it. Luckily, a man in his office came to my rescue, and volunteered to say that, although he didn’t know me himself, he had heard me spoken of by others as “a very respectable gentleman.”
I was only just in time to catch the twelve o’clock steamer for the Montgomery railroad. I overheard two Negroes on board discussing affairs in general. They were deploring the war, and expressing their hatred of the Yankees for bringing “sufferment on us as well as our masters.” Both of them had evidently a great aversion to being “run off,” as they called it. One of them wore his master’s sword, of which he was very proud, and he strutted about in a most amusing and consequential manner.
I got into the railroad cars at 2:30 P.M. The pace was not at all bad had we not stopped so often and for such a long time for wood and water. I sat opposite a wounded soldier, who told me he was an Englishman from Chelsea. He said he was returning to his regiment, although his wound in the neck often gave him great pain.
The spirit with which wounded men return to the front, even although their wounds are imperfectly healed, is worthy of all praise, and shows the indomitable determination of the Southern people. In the same car there were several quite young boys of fifteen or sixteen who were badly wounded, and one or two were minus arms and legs, of which deficiencies they were evidently very vain.
The country through which we passed was a dense pine forest, sandy soil, and quite desolate, very uninviting to an invading army. We traveled all night.
27th May (Wednesday)—Arrived at Montgomery, the capital of Alabama, at daylight, and left it by another railroad at 5:30 A.M.
All state capitals appear to resemble one another, and look like bits cut off from great cities. One or two streets have a good deal of pretension about them; and the inevitable “Capitol,” with its dome, forms the principal feature.
A sentry stands at the door of each railway car, who examines the papers of every passenger with great strictness. Even after that inspection the same ceremony is performed by an officer of the provost-marshal’s department, who accompanies every train.*** The officers and soldiers on this duty are very civil and courteous, and after getting over their astonishment at finding that I am a British officer, they do all they can to make me comfortable. They ask all sorts of curious questions about the British Army, and often express a strong wish to see one of our regiments fight. They can hardly believe that the Coldstream is really dressed in scarlet. Today they entered gravely into discussion amongst themselves, as to whether British troops would have taken the position at Fredericksburg. The arguments on both sides were very amusing, and opinion was pretty evenly divided.
We met three trains crammed full of soldiers for Johnston’s army. They belonged to Breckenridge’s division of Bragg’s army, and all seemed in the highest spirits, cheering and yelling like demons.
In the cars today I fell in with the Federal doctor who was refused leave to pass through General Johnston’s lines. He was now en route for Richmond. He was in full Yankee uniform, but was treated with civility by all the Confederate soldiers. I had a long talk with him; he seemed a sensible man, and did not attempt to deny the universal enthusiasm and determination of the Southerners. He told me that General Grant had been very nearly killed at the taking of Jackson. He thought the war would probably terminate by a blow-up in the North.****
I had to change cars at West Point and at Atlanta. At the latter place I was crammed into a desperately crowded train for Chattanooga. This country, Georgia, is much more inhabited and cultivated than Alabama. I traveled again all night.
28th May (Thursday)—I arrived at Chattanooga (Tennessee) at 4:30 A.M., and fell in with Captain Brown again. His Negro recognized me, and immediately rushed up to shake hands.
After breakfasting at Chattanooga, I started again at 7:30 by train for Shelbyville, General Bragg’s headquarters. This train was crammed to repletion with soldiers rejoining their regiments, so I was constrained to sit in the aisle on the floor of one of the cars. I thought myself lucky even then, for so great was the number of military, that all “citizens” were ordered out to make way for the soldiers; but my gray shooting-jacket and youthful appearance saved me from the imputation of being a “citizen.”
Two hours later, the passport officer, seeing who I was, procured me a similar situation in the ladies’ car, where I was a little better off. After leaving Chattanooga, the railroad winds alongside of the Tennessee River, the banks of which are high and beautifully covered with trees. The river itself is wide, and very pretty; but from my position in the tobacco juice I was unable to do justice to the scenery. I saw stockades at intervals all along the railroad, which were constructed by the Federals, who occupied all this country last year.
On arriving at Wartrace at 4 P.M., I determined to remain there, and ask for hospitality from General Hardee, as I saw no prospect of reaching Shelbyville in decent time. Leaving my baggage with the provost marshal at Wartrace, I walked on to General Hardee’s headquarters, which were distant about two miles from the railroad. They were situated in a beautiful country, green, undulating, full of magnificent trees, principally beeches, and the scenery was by far the finest I had seen in America as yet.
When I arrived, I found that General Hardee was in company with General Polk and Bishop Elliott of Georgia, and also with Mr. Vallandigham.3 The latter (called the Apostle of Liberty) is a good-looking man, apparently not much over forty, and had been turned out of the North three days before. Rosecrans had wished to hand him over to Bragg by flag of truce; but as the latter declined to receive him in that manner, he was, as General Hardee expressed it, “dumped down” in the neutral ground between the lines, and left there.
He then received hospitality from the Confederates in the capacity of a destitute stranger. They do not in any way receive him officially, and it does not suit the policy of either party to be identified with one another. He is now living at a private house in Shelbyville, and had come over for the day, with General Polk, on a visit to Hardee. He told the generals, that if Grant was severely beaten in Mississippi by Johnston, he did not think the war could be continued on its present great scale.
When I presented my letters of introduction, General Hardee received me with the unvarying kindness and hospitality which I had experienced from all other Confederate officers. He is a fine, soldierlike man, broad-shouldered and tall. He looks rather like a French officer, and is a Georgian by birth. He bears the reputation of being a thoroughly good soldier, and he is the author of the drillbook still in use by both armies. Until quite lately, he was commanding officer of the military college at West Point. He distinguished himself at the battles of Corinth and Murfreesboro, and now commands the 2d corps d’armée of Bragg’s army.
He is a widower, and has the character of being a great admirer of the fair sex. During the Kentucky campaign last year, he was in the habit of availing himself of the privilege of his rank and years, and insisted upon kissing the wives and daughters of all the Kentuckian farmers. And although he is supposed to have converted many of the ladies to the Southern cause, yet in many instances their male relatives remained either neutral or undecided. On one occasion General Hardee had conferred the “accolade” upon a very pretty Kentuckian to their mutual satisfaction, when, to his intense disgust, the proprietor produced two very ugly old females, saying, “Now, then, General, if you kiss any you must kiss them all round,” which the discomfited general was forced to do, to the great amusement of his officers, who often allude to this contretemps.
Another rebuff which he received, and about which he is often chaffed by General Polk, was when an old lady told him he ought really to “leave off fighting at his age.” “Indeed, madam,” replied Hardee, “and how old do you take me for?” “Why, about the same age as myself—seventy-five.” The chagrin of the stalwart and gallant general, at having twenty years added to his age, may be imagined.
Lieutenant General Leonidas Polk, Bishop of Louisiana, who commands the other corps d’armée, is a good-looking, gentlemanlike man with all the manners and affability of a “grand seigneur.” He is fifty-seven years of age—tall, upright, and looks much more the soldier than the clergyman. He is very rich; and I am told he owns seven hundred Negroes. He is much beloved by the soldiers on account of his great personal courage and agreeable manners. I had already heard no end of anecdotes of him told me by my traveling companions, who always alluded to him with affection and admiration. In his clerical capacity I had always heard him spoken of with the greatest respect.
When I was introduced to him he immediately invited me to come and stay at his headquarters at Shelbyville. He told me that he was educated at West Point, and was at that institution with the President, the two Johnstons, Lee, Magruder, &c., and that, after serving a short time in the artillery, he had entered the church.
Bishop Elliott, of Georgia, is a nice old man of venerable appearance and very courteous manners. He is here at the request of General Polk for the purpose of confirming some officers and soldiers. He speaks English exactly like an English gentleman. So, in fact, does General Polk and all the well-bred Southerners, much more so than the ladies, whose American accent can always be detected. General Polk and Mr. Vallandigham returned to Shelbyville in an ambulance at 6:30 P.M.
General Hardee’s headquarters were on the estate of Mrs. ——, a very hospitable lady. The two daughters of the General were staying with her, and also a Mrs. ——, who is a very pretty woman.
These ladies are more violent against the Yankees than it is possible for a European to conceive. They beat their male relations hollow in their denunciations and hopes of vengeance. It was quite depressing to hear their innumerable stories of Yankee brutality, and I was much relieved when, at a later period of the evening, they subsided into music. After Bishop Elliott had read prayers, I slept in the same room with General Hardee.
29th May (Friday)—I took a walk before breakfast with Dr. Quintard, a zealous Episcopal chaplain, who began life as a surgeon, which enables him to attend to the bodily as well as the spiritual wants of the Tennessean regiment to which he is chaplain. The enemy is about fifteen miles distant, and all the tops of the intervening hills are occupied as signal stations, which communicate his movements by flags in the daytime, and by beacons at night. A signal corps has been organized for this service. The system is most ingenious, and answers admirably.4
We all breakfasted at Mrs. ——’s. The ladies were more excited even than yesterday in their diatribes against the Yankees. They insisted on cutting the accompanying paragraph out of today’s newspaper, which they declared was a very fair exposition of the average treatment they received from the enemy.***** They reproved Mrs. —— for having given assistance to the wounded Yankees at Wartrace last year; and a sister of Mrs.——’s, who is a very strong-minded lady, gave me a most amusing description of an interview she had had at Huntsville with the astronomer Mitchell, in his capacity as a Yankee general.5
It has often been remarked to me that, when this war is over, the independence of the country will be due, in a great measure, to the women. Men declare that had the women been desponding they could never have gone through with it; but, on the contrary, the women have invariably set an example to the men of patience, devotion, and determination. Naturally proud, and with an innate contempt for the Yankees, the Southern women have been rendered furious and desperate by the proceeding of Butler, Milroy, Turchin, &c. They are all prepared to undergo any hardships and misfortunes rather than submit to the rule of such people; and they use every argument which woman can employ to infuse the same spirit into their male relations.
At noon I took leave for the present of General Hardee, and drove over in his ambulance to Shelbyville, eight miles, in company with Bishop Elliott and Dr. Quintard. The road was abominable, and it was pouring with rain. On arriving at General Polk’s, he invited me to take up my quarters with him during my stay with Bragg’s army, which offer I accepted with gratitude.6
After dinner General Polk told me that he hoped his brethren in England did not very much condemn his present line of conduct. He explained to me the reasons which had induced him temporarily to forsake the cassock and return to his old profession. He stated the extreme reluctance he had felt in taking this step. He said that as soon as the war was over, he should return to his episcopal avocations, in the same way as a man, finding his house on fire, would use every means in his power to extinguish the flames, and would then resume his ordinary pursuits.7 He commanded the Confederate forces at the battle of Perryville and Belmont, as well as his present corps d’armée at the battles of Shiloh (Corinth) and Murfreesboro.
At 6:30 P.M., I called on General Bragg, the Commander in chief. This officer is in appearance the least prepossessing of the Confederate generals. He is very thin. He stoops, and has a sickly, cadaverous, haggard appearance, rather plain features, bushy black eyebrows which unite in a tuft on the top of his nose, and a stubby iron-gray beard; but his eyes are bright and piercing. He has the reputation of being a rigid disciplinarian, and of shooting freely for insubordination. I understand he is rather unpopular on this account, and also by reason of his occasional acerbity of manner.8
He was extremely civil to me, and gave me permission to visit the outposts, or any part of his army. He also promised to help me towards joining Morgan in Kentucky, and he expressed his regret that a boil on his hand would prevent him from accompanying me to the outposts. He told me that Rosecrans’s position extended about forty miles, Murfreesboro (twenty-five miles distant) being his headquarters. The Confederate cavalry inclosed him in a semicircle extending over a hundred miles of country. He told me that West Tennessee, occupied by the Federals, was devoted to the Confederate cause, whilst East Tennessee, now in possession of the Confederates, contained numbers of people of Unionist proclivities. This very place, Shelbyville, had been described to me by others as a “Union hole.”
After my interview with General Bragg, I took a ride along the Murfreesboro road with Colonel Richmond, A.D.C. to General Polk. About two miles from Shelbyville, we passed some lines made to defend the position. The trench itself was a very mild affair, but the higher ground could be occupied by artillery in such a manner as to make the road impassable. The thick woods were being cut down in front of the lines for a distance of eight hundred yards to give range.
During our ride I met Major General Cheetham, a stout, rather rough-looking man, but with the reputation of “a great fighter.” It is said that he does all the necessary swearing in the 1st corps d’armée, which General Polk’s clerical character incapacitates him from performing.
Colonel Richmond gave me the particulars of General Van Dorn’s death, which occurred about forty miles from this. His loss does not seem to be much regretted, as it appears he was always ready to neglect his military duties for an assignation. In the South it is not considered necessary to put yourself on an equality with a man in such a case as Van Dorn’s by calling him out. His life belongs to the aggrieved husband, and “shooting down” is universally esteemed the correct thing, even if it takes place after a lapse of time, as in the affair between General Van Dorn and Dr. Peters.9
News arrived this evening of the capture of Helena by the Confederates, and of the hanging of a Negro regiment with forty Yankee officers. Every one expressed sorrow for the blacks, but applauded the destruction of their officers.******
I slept in General Polk’s tent, he occupying a room in the house adjoining. Before going to bed, General Polk told me an affecting story of a poor widow in humble circumstances, whose three sons had fallen in battle one after the other, until she had only one left, a boy of sixteen. So distressing was her case that General Polk went himself to comfort her. She looked steadily at him, and replied to his condolences by the sentence, “As soon as I can get a few things together, General, you shall have Harry too.” The tears came into General Polk’s eyes as he related this episode, which he ended by saying, “How can you subdue such a nation as this!”
* A description of either its sea or land defenses is necessarily omitted.
** Its members were British subjects exempted from the conscription, but they had volunteered to fight in defense of the city.
† I always forgot to ask General Lee whether this story was a true one.
*** This rigid inspection is necessary to arrest spies, and prevent straggling and absence without leave.
**** Notwithstanding the exasperation with which every Southerner speaks of a Yankee, and all the talk about black flag and no quarter, yet I never saw a Federal prisoner ill-treated or insulted in any way, although I have traveled hundreds of miles in their company.
***** LOSSES OF WILLIAM F. RICKS—The Yankees did not treat us very badly as they returned from pursuing our men beyond Leighton (at least no more than we expected); they broke down our smokehouse door and took seven hams, went into the kitchen and helped themselves to cooking utensils, tin ware, &c.; searched the house, but took nothing. As they passed up the second time we were very much annoyed by them, but not seriously injured; they took the only two mules we had, a cart, our milch cows, and more meat. It was on their return from this trip that our losses were so grievous. They drove their wagons up in our yard and loaded them with the last of our meat, all of our sugar, coffee, molasses, flour, meal, and potatoes. I went to a lieut.-colonel who seemed very busy giving orders, and asked him what he expected me to do; they had left me no provisions at all, and I had a large family, and my husband was away from home. His reply was short and pointed—“Starve, and be d—d, madam.” They then proceeded to the carriage-house, took a fine new buggy that we had never used, the cushions and harness of our carriage, then cut the carriage up and left it. They then sent about sixty of the slyest, smoothest-fingered rogues I have ever seen in the Federal army (all the rogues I ever did see were in that army), into the house to search for whiskey and money, while the officers remained in the back-yard trying to hire the servants to tell them where we had money hid. Their search proving fruitless, they loaded themselves with our clothing, bed-clothing, &c.; broke my dishes; stole my knives and forks; refused the keys and broke open my trunks, closets, and other doors. Then came the worst of all—the burners, or, as they call themselves, the “Destroying Angels.” They burned our gin-house and press, with 125 bales of cotton, seven cribs containing 600 bolls of corn, our logs, stables, and six stacks of fodder, a wagon, and four Negro cabins, our lumber-room, fine spinning-machine and 500 dollars’ worth of thread, axes, hoes, scythe-blades, and all other plantation implements. Then they came with their torches to burn our house, the last remaining building they had left besides the Negro quarter. That was too much; all my pride, and the resolutions that I had made (and until now kept up) to treat them with cool contempt, and never, let the worst come, humble myself to the thievish cutthroats, forsook me at the awful thought of my home in ruins; I must do something, and that quickly;—hardened, thieving villains, as I knew them to be, I would make one effort for the sake of my home. I looked over the crowd, as they huddled together to give orders about the burning, for one face that showed a trace of feeling, or an eye that beamed with a spark of humanity, but, finding none, I approached the nearest group, and pointing to the children (my sister’s), I said, “You will not burn the house, will you? You drove those little ones from one home and took possession of it, and this is the only sheltering place they have.” “You may thank your God, madam,” said one of the ruffians, “that we have left you and your d—d brats with heads to be sheltered.” Just then an officer galloped up—pretended to be very much astonished and terribly beset about the conduct of his men—cursed a good deal, and told a batch of falsehoods about not having given orders to burn anything but corn—made divers threats that were forgotten in utterance, and ordered his “Angels” to fall into line—thereby winding up the troubles of the darkest day I have ever seen.
MRS. RICKS
Losses before this last raid: six mules, five horses, one wagon (four-horse), fifty-two Negroes.
****** This afterwards turned out to be untrue.