This page is part of The Georgia GenWeb Project a AHGP Project and is hosted by USGENNET
|
This page is part of The Georgia GenWeb Project a AHGP Project and is hosted by USGENNET |
|
Confederate Veteran 1893 pg 15
Confederate Veteran, Vol. II, No. 1, Nashville, Tenn., January, 1894. THE BATTLE OF STAUNTON RIVER BRIDGE, VA. [J. T. Eason, Cold Water, Miss., Seventeenth Mississippi Regiment.] In June, 1864, Major Cooper, of Memphis, then Quartermaster of the Forty-second Mississippi Infantry, and I were returning from short furloughs (my first and only one during the war) to our homes in Mississippi. We were halted at Danville, Va., and informed that a division of Yankee cavalry, under General Kirkpatrick, were near Burkesville Junction trying to make a circuit of Lee's army, and were destroying much of our supplies. They were tearing up the railroads and threatening great disaster to our already greatly impoverished men. Danville, being one of our chief supply depots, was a point of great importance. It was understood that the enemy would attempt the capture of Danville, and if successful, then Greensboro, N. C., Raleigh, Goldsboro and possibly Wilmington. They were well mounted and equipped for this bold raid, and were pursued by Gen. W. H. F. Lee's division of cavalry, which was poorly mounted, and of course outdistanced by the enemy. Calls were made for volunteers from soldiers cut off at Danville to go to Staunton River to assist a company of 125 disabled soldiers, working in the arsenal at Danville, and a battalion of 350 Virginia State troops, old men and boys, armed with shotguns, squirrel rifles, etc., to defend the bridge and frustrate the plan of the invaders. I was among the fifty-nine soldiers that cheerfully agreed to go under Lieutenant Colonel Jackson of North Carolina, who was then suffering from a wound in his leg. Colonel Jackson assumed command of the little army of defense, and made a speech to the militia, telling them of the importance of defending the bridge, etc., and very wisely removing all means of retreat to the other side of the river, hastily throwing up earthworks on side of approach, each wing resting on the river, forming a semicircle. We also had two cannons, old howitzers, with a few trained artillerymen to work them, on opposite side. Our preparations were very hastily made, for the enemy soon made their approach known by the cloud of dust in the distance. Soon they opened up with their field guns, trying to burn the bridge and dislodge or frighten the damned Virginia militia, as they termed us. The shells striking the thin roof of the bridge made a fearful racket, scaring some of the small boys into outbursts of weeping. They then dismounted, deployed a strong skirmish line, supported by several regiments, that seemed eager for the fray. We reserved our fire until in close musket range, and then poured volley after volley, repulsing their first attack with ease. This greatly encouraged some of the militia, who had refused to fight. The enemy soon rallied again, and with reinforced numbers charged with redoubled zeal, only to meet defeat at the hands of our little Spartan band. When they heard the old rebel yell given by us their efforts were less vigorous. In the meantime General Lee had hurried forward with his poor, jaded horses, and we soon heard his guns firing on their rear guard, and we felt assured that we had won, and had saved the Confederacy millions of dollars worth of supplies and ordnance that we could ill afford to lose. The enemy soon withdrew, and were hard pressed by Lee's cavalry, forcing them to retreat toward Petersburg, directly in the rear of General Lee's main army, when Wilcox's splendid division of infantry attempted to intercept therm, but Gray's regiment of Pennsylvania "Bucktails" actually led and charged through our lines, thus saving a large part of this now thoroughly disorganized command. The result of our fight was eighty-five Federals killed wounded and captured. We had three men killed and seven wounded. A member of the Thirteenth Mississippi Infantry was my companion, and was badly wounded by a Yankee Lieutenant, who shot him twice at close range with a pistol. I left him in the hospital at Danville and have never heard from him since. This is a brief account of one of the most hotly contested little battles I ever participated in, and I was in most all the battles fought by the Army of Northern Virginia. Yet there has been no mention made of it by any historian. Confederate Veteran, Vol. II, No. 2, Nashville, Tenn., February, 1894. THE VIRGINIA CAMPAIGN - A TOUCHING INCIDENT. N. B. Hogan, Springfield, MO. It was on Sunday, May 3, 1863, while Lee at Chancellorsville was hurling his heroic and victorious battalions against the dense masses of Hooker, that Sedgewick, with the design of falling upon Lee's rear, crossed the Rappahannock at Fredericksburg with his magnificent Sixth Corps, 20,000 strong, and marched hurriedly along the Fredericksburg and Orange Court House plank road, following the retreating brigade of Alabamians, under command of Gen. C. M. Wilcox, who had attended the military school at West Point with General Sedgewick. Wilcox's brigade numbered less than 3,000 effective men, while his antagonist was the flower of all the corps embracing the Federal Army of the Potomac, numbering not less than 20,000. Against this host of veterans it would seem worse than folly to make any show of resistance, but the glorious Wilcox had unbounded faith in the heroism and courage of his oft tried Alabamians, and relying upon their unfaltering devotion and determination to conquer or die in upholding the righteous cause they had espoused, halted' his small command at Salem Church, a large brick edifice, about four miles west of Fredericksburg, on the south side of the plank road. Just west some thirty yards from this church was drawn up in line of battle the Tenth Alabama, supported by the Eighth a few paces to the rear of the Tenth, their left resting near the road. Immediately across the road lay the Eleventh, my own company in it, near the road, and to the left or north day the Ninth and Fourteenth Regiments. The ground in front of the Tenth was clear of underbrush. A grove of oak timber surrounded the church, in which had been posted a small squad of sharpshooters, who did great execution in the battle which followed. This was the Spartan band of bronzed braves which was to save the rear of Lee's victorious legions from an attack by an army nearly as large as that with which he was driving back the shattered hosts of Hooker, and nobly did they do their duty. In front of my own regiment was a thin brush fence about waist high; outside of that was a skirt of timber—oak, gum, etc.—with some undergrowth. While we thus lay, waiting and watching, about 4 o'clock P. M. a magnificent scene burst upon our view in the open field beyond the skirt of timber in our front. The ground in our front sloped gently from us, and up this gentle slope approached the dense columns of blue with steady tread, with banners fluttering and shining steel glimmering in the sunlight. Three columns deep this array pressed upon the small band of heroes before them, little dreaming that in a few brief moments they would be hurled back with fearful havoc to their shelter beyond the Rappahannock. General Wilcox had ordered us to withhold our fire until we could look into the eyes of our enemy, which order was literally obeyed. The first assaulting line approached to within twenty paces, when we rose and poured a deadly hailstorm of lead into it, which was so destructive that our fire was not returned, and that first column disappeared. The second column advanced with unbroken front, and met the fate of the first; and so the third, and as we poured our minies into the serried ranks our line bounded forward and swept the entire Federal corps from the field, killing, wounding and capturing thousands. That night Sedgewick re-crossed the river in the darkness. The magnificent fighting of this little brigade and good generalship of Wilcox saved Lee from a rear attack and enabled him to inflict a terrible defeat upon Hooker, with his large army. It is strange that so little attention has been given to this important battle by historians. I now come to a touching incident in this battle: As the last assaulting column of blue approached, Capt. John B. Rains, commander of our company (A), was patting me on the shoulder and repeatedly saying, as I loaded my Springfield rifle as rapidly as possible, "Give 'em hell , Needham; give 'em hell!" (Needham is my first name.) Suddenly an officer, mounted on a fine, swift horse, came at a racing run along the plank road from the Yankee lines, and it seemed that I was the first one to notice him, and I called to the boys to "shoot the man on the horse," at the same time firing obliquely toward him. The gallant fellow reeled and fell a corpse on the hard plank of the road. His horse turned and ran to the rear. After the battle was over, and we returned to the bloody ground where we made the stand, Captain Rains, I and others went to where the dead officer lay, whom Captain Rains recognized as a schoolmate of his at the Philadelphia Law School. The gallant Captain burst into tears over the fate of his old-time friend. He was Colonel of a Pennsylvania regiment, but I have forgotten his name. Several of the boys fired at the same time, so none of us knew who sent the fatal ball, and I am glad of it.
Confederate Veteran, Vol. II, No. 4, Nashville, Tenn., April, 1894. NEED OF A UNITED STATES HISTORY. [Rev. J. H. McNeilly, Nashville, Tenn.] One of the pressing needs of our whole country is a history of the United States, for schools and for popular use, written from the Southern standpoint. We do not want a prejudiced, partisan account of our political and social life, and of our civil war, but a clear, vivid story of the difficulties, efforts and growth of our people, in the light of those great ideas and principles which controlled the actions of Southern statesmen from the origin of the Republic. Hitherto Northern men have written the history and naturally in the light of Northern ideas and principles. Of course our great civil war has been treated as a "wicked and causeless rebellion," as a war stirred up by a few ambitious spirits for personal ends, and for the maintenance and extension of the institution of slavery. Our children are taught to believe that we were rebels and traitors against "the best government the world ever saw." Now, a movement so widespread, so nearly unanimous, and which called forth the enthusiastic devotion and the heroic efforts of millions of people for four years, is not causeless. But the causes lie far back 1n our history. The contest was between two different conceptions of the nature of our government. The Southern people made their desperate struggle to maintain the government which they believed its founders established. When they were defeated they accepted in good faith the government as it now is, and are loyal to it, but they do not believe that it is the government according to the idea of the framers of the Constitution. It may turn out to be better. Certainly they have no idea of trying to establish by force their idea of State's rights. But they will always contend that they fought for the Constitutional rights of the people, as originally guaranteed to them. Now, the histories written by Southern men, as far as I have seen, do not set forth clearly the idea and purpose which animated the South in all the years before 1860, when it controlled the government. Our historians are usually content to give our side of the civil war with some of the causes that led up to it; but for all the period preceding that fearful contest they differ little from Northern writers. How few of our children know that Jamestown, Virginia, was settled before the Pilgrim Fathers came to this country, or that the vast domain which forms four-fifths of the United States was won by Southern men, or that slavery was forced upon this country by England, seconded by New England, or that in 1860 one-tenth of the slaves were communicants in churches. What we need is a history of the country from the beginning, which shall show the wonderful part the South had in its conquest and development, and the patriotic spirit and great sacrifices made by the South for the Union. It can only be written by one in thorough sympathy with the ideas of the South, as well as with thorough knowledge of the great facts of history. The history of this country to the close of the civil war is not the "History of the Rise and Fall of the Slave Power," as Vice President Wilson wrote it, but the history of the overthrow of the Constitution as it was originally adopted. While giving hearty devotion to the government as it now is, and while laboring to make it a glory and a blessing to the world, we yet owe it to our ancestors, and to our dead, to show ln history that government, as we believe it was intended by its framers, and as it made such wonderful progress under our administration of it until the opposing idea triumphed. Upon our Confederate veterans lies the duty of securing this vindication of their cause from the facts of all our past history. We owe it to our fathers, to ourselves and to our children that the history of our common country should not be left to be told by those who are out of sympathy with our spirit and principles, and so are unable to do justice to our motives or actions; and who therefore fail to record the glorious part we had in winning and developing the country, and fail to understand the meaning of the heroic struggle we made, not to preserve slavery, but to preserve our rights under the Constitution Confederate Veteran, Vol. II, No. 5, Nashville, Tenn., May, 1894. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- SAM DAVIS, THE HERO MARTYR. [Extracts from an address by J. M. King, Jr., before a Literary Society at the University of Nashville.] It is not of the words of a statesman, nor of the deeds of a great general, but of the actions and death of a noble Southern hero that I beg you to listen to. A short time before the battle of Mission Ridge Gen. Bragg had planned a campaign through Tennessee into Kentucky. It was important to know the exact strength of the Federal forces occupying the sections through which he was to pass. For this information, which had been promised by a Federal officer at Nashville, a courier was to be sent. This perilous undertaking, to pass through a country swarming with Federal soldiers, required a man of the coolest courage and unflinching devotion to duty. Sam Davis, of Coleman's Scouts, a youth of nineteen years, was chosen for the hazardous journey. He went dressed in his gray, and accomplished his task, but on his return was taken prisoner near Pulaski, Tenn. A search of his person revealed the important papers he carried, and from their accuracy and minuteness of detail it was at once suspected that he had secured them from a Federal officer of the engineering department. It was highly important to detect the name of the traitor, and to that end Davis was questioned. His answers were straightforward. Frankly admitting that he had received the papers as suspected, he firmly declined to give the name of the officer. The commander pressed him, offering him pardon and safe return into his lines, or would subject him to trial by court martial, to result in death on the gallows. He was unmoved, and stoutly refused to sell his friend. A commission being appointed, he was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to be hanged as a spy Friday, November 23, 1863, in the town of Pulaski. When his fate was made known to him he expressed some surprise at its harshness being dressed in his army colors and wearing his Confederate arms when captured—he was no spy, but he showed not the least fear or weakness—not the quiver of a muscle. In writing to his mother he realized full well the end. Death was certain. These are his words to her: "Dear Mother—O how painful it is to write to you that I have got to die to-morrow morning. I will be hanged by the Federals. Mother, do not grieve for me, I must bid you goodbye for evermore. Mother, I do not hate to die. Give my love to all. Tell the children all to be good." A nobler heart never beat! Think of his grief stricken mother as she read those lines. The simplicity, the sincerity expressed in them illustrates his character. Directly after writing this he was again visited by the Chaplain, but he remained firm not to reveal the confidence given him. At the time appointed for his execution, seated on his coffin, his arms pinioned at his back, he was driven to the scaffold which had been erected on an elevation overlooking the town. He saw the soldiers move the coffin from the wagon, and, turning to the commander, inquired how long he had to live. "Just fifteen minutes," was the reply. Then, without a tremor or the slightest change of countenance, he said, " The rest of the battles will have to be fought without me." As he ascended the steps of the scaffold in company with the Chaplain, after committing a few keepsakes to a friend, his mind evidently turned back to his home. Familiar scenes and trying recollections thronged upon him. He recalled his dear mother as she bade him farewell at the gate, giving to him her treasured Bible, asking God to take care of her precious boy. He saw his father, his frame trembling with emotion as he took his hand and said, "My son, go and fight for our Southland, and, if need be, die in her cause and no doubt he recalled the tender words of his dearest one as they knelt at the altar and vowed to be all and all to each other. At this moment a messenger, dispatched in haste from headquarters, arrived at the scaffold. It was the last offer of pardon. He was told that such fate might be avoided by giving the name of the officer from whom he had the treasonable documents. Though standing upon the brink of eternity, he turned upon the messenger and, with a glowing indignation, said, "No! I would die a thousand deaths first. I will never betray the confidence reposed in me." After a short prayer the black cap was drawn over his head and he stepped upon the trap, and with the calmness of a philosopher, the sternness of a patriot, the sincerity and courage of a Christian martyr, paid the severe penalty of unswerving devotion to duty and honor. Far and wide his death was mourned. His executioners wept. The common soldiery stigmatized the deed as a cruel assassination. Among his own lines his comrades resolved to erect a monument to mark the resting place of one who deserved the title of Marshal Ney, "the bravest of the brave." Noble Sam Davis was admired by his enemies and loved by his friends. No one ever awakened greater sympathy. His youth, his courage, his coolness Under the trying circumstances, endeared him to all. Even now, after the lapse of twenty-nine years, at the mention of his name to a comrade or friend, a tender sympathy causes the tear to rise unbidden to the eye. He was a martyr to what he conceived to be his duty. Confederate Veteran, Vol. II, No. 6, Nashville, Tenn., June, 1894. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- VICKSBURG. [Some New History in the Experience of Gen. Francis A. Shoup.] The May VETERAN contained an interview with Gen. Shoup about Shiloh which was well received. Indebtedness is again acknowledged to Mr. Lynch Perry, of Columbia, for another chapter from the same gentleman. Although Dr. Shoup was closely engaged in preparation for Commencement at Columbia Institute, of which he is rector, he was pleased to talk again for "love of the old Confederates through the VETERAN." "General, you were in the siege of Vicksburg. Would you tell me something of your experience? The people, young and old, are showing an increased interest in the details of the war." I was ordered from Mobile to Vicksburg only a few days before Grant crossed the Mississippi against that place, and was assigned to duty in command of Gen. Stephen D. Lee's old brigade of Louisiana troops, consisting of Col. Hall's Twenty-sixth, Col. Marks' Twenty-seventh, and Col. Thomas's Twenty-eighth regiments, all very full and all splendid bodies of men. Almost immediately after my arrival Pemberton moved out to the Big Black to meet the approach of Grant. I say nothing of previous operations. My brigade was left in the city as a garrison, so that I was not in the somewhat ridiculous battle of the Big Black. All I need say is that through heat and dust the troops came tumbling back into Vicksburg in utter confusion. The man I remember most distinctly in it all was Gen. Bowen, whom I knew well. He was commanding Missouri troops, and. they were in an awful plight. They were in utter confusion, and he represented the rest of the army in like case. He said that every thing was lost. Of course it was not so, but there is no denying the fact that the retreat was very disorderly, and that many of the commands were rendezvoused by establishing centers at which they could assemble. I do not now remember exactly how long it was before Sherman made his appearance—I think the next day. I have no time to look up the records now, but I have this remarkable story to tell: I received an order from Maj. Gen. Smith, who commanded my division, to send a regiment out on the Graveyard Road to cover a party sent out to drive in cattle from the Yazoo bottoms. I directed Col. Marks to move with his regiment, but it was such a precarious business, and it was such a large body of men—over a thousand, as I remember it—that I thought it prudent to go with it myself. We moved with the least possible delay, and just as the head of the column reached the line of rifle pits, which constituted the famous fortifications around the city, a man came in on that road at full speed on a gray horse with hat off, yelling that the enemy was upon him. He was brought to me, and disclosed that he had been chased and shot at just a few hundred yards outside, and that the enemy in force was at hand. He did not appear to be a soldier, and I am now sorry I did not ask who he was and how he came to be there. There was no time for curious inquiries, however, though I have often wondered since if it could be possible that there were no picked guards, nothing between Pemberton and the Federals. I never heard of anybody but the terrified countryman, as he seemed to be. I acted upon his information; halted the command, and, deploying the two flank companies as skirmishers, manned the breastworks with the remaining companies. This was all done in a very few minutes, but by the time the skirmish line had reached the crest of the opposite ridge, a distance of less than two hundred yards, they were engaged. I had sent the man who had brought the news on to Gen. Smith, and a courier to Gen. Pemberton with a report of what tbe citizen said. The news reached Pemberton and Smith at the same time, for Gen. Pemberton had assembled all the general officers to communicate the orders of Gen. Joe Johnston, directing Pemberton to retire from Vicksburg at once. When Pemberton received my communication he told them that the question was settled and read them my note. He ordered them to their commands at once, directing them to move their forces to the line of breastworks. "Do you mean to say that the lines were not manned?" There was not a man in the trenches or near them, from the Jackson road to tho river on the left. I cannot say how it was on the right. There were some men at the point where the Jackson road passed out of the lines, but I doubt if there were any to the right of that point. "What would have been the effect if you had not happened to be where you were?" The probabilities are that Sherman (for it was his corps which had struck us) would have quietly marched in and taken possession of the lines. "Did he press you after he did encounter your skirmish line?" Not at all. The firing continued till dusk. It was about the middle of the afternoon when it began. This delay on Sherman's part saved us. If he had pressed us, there would have been no question of his success. It was a long time (at least it seemed so to me) before my flanks were secured. It was in one respect fortunate that the news found all the general officers assembled. They got their orders at once, and their movements were much expedited. "What did Sherman do?" Well, of course I could not see how things went on with him. Our troops were rushed to the lines as rapidly as possible. There was a system of outer works on the left of the position I occupied. I was not much more than half a mile from the Mississippi on my left. Immediately to the left of my position, and something like a quarter of a mile in front, extending to the river, is another ridge. This also had on it a line of rifle pits, and troops were sent to man them. Sherman moved to his right, and as darkness came on the firing was continuous all along our front almost to the river. It was a beautiful sight, and continued late into the night. The junction between my left and the right on the ridge in front was topographically very poor, and Pemberton very prudently abandoned that front line before morning. But this long line of environment shows that Sherman was in sufficient force to have made his way into Vicksburg at once if he had had enterprise enough to force me. He always showed a lack of this excellent quality in a soldier. The fortifications about Vicksburg were a poorly run and poorly constructed set of earthworks, but there was no point of the whole line which could not have been carried by a simple assault without ladders or any sort of machines. "Didn't the Federals try to carry them by assault? " They made several attacks, but not one that had any promise of success, or was worthy of being called a serious assault. The first one was on my line the third day after that. Sherman formed assaulting columns, and moved out far enough to get a great many of his men killed, but he did not get near enough to make it seem anything more than a gratuitous slaughter. Young Florence, of New Orleans, who had volunteered as an aid on my staff, was killed that day. We were standing together in a battery of six-pounders and howitzers, when he turned to me in great excitement and said: "See, General, they are running!" He fell, and never uttered another word. My adjutant was shot, too, while looking over my shoulder. Poor fellow! a minie ball struck him in the neck, and he died at once. I had two others wounded, but the fatality was not serious with my command. The most shocking sight I ever beheld was of a young man who was acting as my clerk. He had amused himself in gathering every variety of shell thrown at us by the enemy. He had a number of shelves filled with them in a hole in the ground covered by a tent-fly, just adjoining my quarters of similar structure. I had often cautioned him of the danger; but one fatal day he was engaged in opening one of the 64-pound shells the Federals complimented us with every afternoon for a few hours, when I thought the world had come to an end. It was in the heat of the day, and I was lying down when the explosion took place. The poor fellow was mangled so as hardly to retain the semblance of a man. There was very little harm done by these heavy shells of the enemy, however, during the siege. I did a thing one night which I do not feel particularly proud of, but which I thought then, and still think, was right. The enemy were approaching my salient with a sap-roller, which is a great roller made of withes and saplings about six feet long and four high, which is pushed along in front of a sapper who is digging a trench running up in the face of the enemy. Word was brought me one night that this operation was going on in our front, and they did not know how to stop it. I went to the point, and found that the Federals were uncommonly bold, exposing themselves very freely. I ordered tho colonel in command at the point to put an entire company on the parapet silently and take aim at the object. They fired at the word, and immediately afterward we heard one of the Yankees say: "That was a shabby trick." I hope nobody was hurt, and do not wonder that they were surprised; but we were not troubled any longer with the sap-roller. They were very industrious, however, under ground. It was not many days before they had holed up to within a few rods of the ditch of the lunette. We had not been idle on our part. We-had run galleries out in all directions of their possible approach, and soon we could hear them working underground; and after awhile we could almost hear what they said. The question was which would get the move on the other in the explosion. We worked very silently and allowed them to get very close to us. So long as they were working we felt pretty safe, but it was rather uncanny in those galleries, not knowing at what moment they might fire their mines. At last we thought it best to put in our charges, and we got them all tamped while they were still working and only a few feet distant. At last we touched the match, and the earth trembled. I have never heard how much damage we did, though really the object was not so much to kill as to stop their operations. They were ended at that point with that explosion. They then resorted to a new expedient. Turning to their right, they ran along the face of a hillside to reach a long stockade which connected two points about fifty yards apart. They constructed a covered way parallel to the stockade by digging a deep ditch and covering it with fence rails, two or three deep, to prevent us from throwing hand grenades and other destructive missiles and explosives over upon them. When they had gained the middle of the stockade they began to run galleries in under it. We were fully alive to their operations, and were hard at work with our counter galleries. This was the state of case when Pemberton opened negotiations for capitulation. All the day of the 3d of July, during the cessation of hostilities, both sides were hard at work on their mines at this point; and we should have been ready to explode far in front of the stockade the moment they were resumed; so that the stockade would have still stood, and no breach would have been effected by the enemy; but the anxious moments of their construction were never to be brought to the issue. Gen. Pemberton took the initiative for capitulation by sending out a flag to Gen. Grant by Gen. Bowen. It was received by Grant in a discourteous and surly spirit. Pemberton proposed that a commission be appointed to arrange terms. Grant declined, declaring that he had no terms except unconditional surrender. Then Pemberton blundered horribly by going out in person to see Grant. He was received with scant courtesy and made to feel that no interview was desired by Grant. Pemberton was about to retire, telling Grant that hostilities would be immediately resumed. This brought the Federal General to some sense of the magnitude of the matter in hand, and he suggested that two of his officers, Gens. McPherson and Smith, with two of Pemberton's, Gen. Bowen and Capt. Montgomery, should step aside and confer upon terms. They had a short conference and reported, upon which Pemberton retired, with the understanding that Grant would send him his ultimatum by ten o'clock that night. It seems obvious that if Pemberton had stopped at home when Grant told him he had no terms to offer, he would have had the whip band. Grant would never have dared to order an assault with a proposition to surrender in his hands, and he would have been compelled to offer terms and beg that they should be accepted or wait the process of starvation. As it was, Pemberton called his general officers together in anticipation of Grant's ultimatum. It was a pretty large assembly. The chiefs of the several staff departments appeared and made statements with regard to the state of case in their several domains. These statements were dismal enough. The commissary reported that he had only two or three days' rations; the engineers reported the condition of the lines very bad, and all the rest presented a hopeless outlook. Gen. Pemberton asked for propositions. Some one urged that we should cut our way out. It was fully discussed, and I do not remember that there was any one who really thought there was any tolerable probability of success. No one denied that we should be starved out in a short time, but there was a strong feeling against unconditional surrender and against surrender at all on the 4th of July. I was young and perhaps a little bumptious, but as nobody was ready to propose anything definite, I undertook to formulate terms of surrender. I am sorry the paper is lost, but I can give the main points very nearly, I am sure. They were, that on day ____ at hour ____ the Confederate forces should abandon the line and retire fifty paces within and stack arms. Leaving only a guard, they should then retire to the city, where they should remain until the necessary papers for parole could be prepared and signed. After this was done, the garrison should resume their arms and be permitted to march out, with drums beating and colors flying. That having passed the lines the column should be halted and arms stacked and then abandoned. It was also to be provided that side arms, horses of mounted officers, private property, etc., should be allowed to pass. The object of leaving the date blank was to tide over the surrender by negotiating until after the 4th of July. While this paper was under discussion Grant's letter stating his terms arrived and was submitted to the council by the commanding general. He proposed to march in one division at eight o'clock in the morning and take possession. After paroles were signed, troops were to march out, the officers with side arms, mounted officers with one horse each, thirty wagons and such provisions as we pleased from our own stores. My paper had been actually signed by all the officers except Gen. Stephen D. Lee, who stood out that he would not surrender, though he offered no solution. It was handed to the commanding general. He said Grant would never consent, and that if the surrender was not made on the next day Grant would assault. He proceeded to alter and amend the paper by scratching out and interlining, notwithstanding it was over the signatures of a score or more of officers. Finally, not getting it to suit him, he dismissed the council, saying that he would attend to it. A faint semblance of this proposition appears in the letter he wrote Grant in reply to his proposed terms. Grant answered that the amendments could not be accepted, and that if he was not notified of the acceptance of his terms by nine o'clock in the morning he should regard them as having been rejected, and act accordingly. Would that he had been allowed to act accordingly! "He never would have dared to send multitudes to destruction while he had an offer of surrender in his pocket. Pemberton accepted Grant's terms unconditionally, and white flags were flying all along the line by nine o'clock in the morning. Guns were stacked just inside of the parapets, and the men retired to the town. Grant sent in his division and a bedlam of confusion reigned for several days while the paroles were in preparation. We finally marched out with sad hearts, deeply humiliated, and the siege of Vicksburg took its place among the stories of gallant but unsuccessful efforts of history. "A great deal has been said about Gen. Pemberton's character for fidelity. What do you think? " "Gen. Pemberton was as gallant and as loyal a man to the cause he was sworn to support as Gen. Lee himself. He was not a great general, but he had a hard place to fill and has had hard measure. I sympathize with him deeply, but no stain will rest upon his character when all is known." "Tell me a little about the sufferings of the soldiers." Well, of course there was much hardship, but it was not intolerable nor to be compared to what many garrisons have endured in times past. Food was short and poor. Pea bread is not the most palatable diet in the world, but it did not much hurt the men, and we who had favor with the commissaries were never without some flour and meal. We had a great abundance of sugar, and I for my part or rather my caterer managed very well. He brought a stove out from town and had a bombproof kitchen in which our artist produced an abundance of slapjacks and sirup from our sugar ration. We always had what purported to be fresh beef—it may have been mule, some said it was—but there was no perceptible difference at the beginning and the end. l should like to tell you many details, but I suppose this will do for the present. The siege lasted forty-eight days, the enemy having made his appearance on the afternoon of May 18, 1863, and the surrender took place the 4th of July, following. Confederate Veteran, Vol. II, No. 7, Nashville, Tenn., July, 1894. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- SCOUTING IN WEST VIRGINIA. [James M. McCann, of the Army of Northern Virginia.] After the battle of Rich Mountain, and the retreat of Gen. Garnett from Laurel Hill, July 4, 1861, all that part of Virginia lying between Cheat Mountain and the Ohio River remained through the war in possession of the Federals. From this section of the Old Dominion had gone forth many gallant men to do battle for the Southern land; and now their only means of communicating with their homes was through the scouts, who were at all seasons of the year coming into this region, and returning from it through mountain fastnesses to the Confederate lines beyond the Alleghanies. As all the roads were carefully guarded by the Federals, the only route possible for these devoted southern scouts was through the pathless mountains. Many were killed, but few were captured, as they were ever ready to take most desperate chances to escape from the enemy. They were the mail carriers between the exiled Confederates and their friends beyond the Western Mountains. A single scout would sometimes carry one hundred letters or more, in addition to five or six days' rations, his blankets, and heavy arms. The scout traveled only at night through. disputed sections, resting by day in the house of some devoted Southerner. When the welcome darkness came again, he resumed his journey, traveling always unfrequented paths through woods and fields. Thus night after night he penetrated deeper and farther into the Federal lines, distributing mail from Dixie land, and receiving in return those letters intended for the boys in gray. He was also a recruiting officer for the Confederate army, and painted in glowing colors the splendid achievements of Stonewall, and the glory that enveloped those gallant riders who followed the plume of Stuart. Sometimes he remained within the Federal lines for months, then marched away some dark night with a hundred men or so. He rarely assumed any disguise, but wore the uniform of a Confederate soldier, and was always kept informed of the movements of the enemy by the Southern people among whom he was concealed. Often in sections where the Southern sentiment prevailed a party would be given in his honor, and he was always the lion of the night. The young men did not question his right of supremacy, and the Southern belles made no secret of their preference for the dashing young soldier in gray. To him was confided many a tender message for those absent loved ones who were in the Confederacy. A scout was seldom betrayed to the enemy. On his return to the Confederacy there was always a wild rush of soldiers to receive their letters, and get verbal tidings from home. His reports to his commander were implicitly relied upon. The hiding places prepared by their Southern friends for the security of the scouts, while surrounded by the Federal armies, often displayed great ingenuity and were very rarely discovered by their enemies. A straw rick would be tunneled to the center, a little room carefully excavated; a long box made of fencing boards run up through the rick for ventilation, the top concealed by a light covering of straw; or a rail pen would be built, a plank floor laid down a little door cut out, and ventilation provided for; and then a great risk of hay built over all. A few calves, or flock of sheep feeding on the hay, would obliterate all tracks made by the scouts in coming to or going from their retreat. The houses of Southern men frequented by scouts usually had special facilities for their concealment or escape. There was a fascination about this adventurous life within the enemy's lines quite irresistible to some. Granville Shafer, a noted scout, made more than twenty successful trips through the lines. He was repeatedly surrounded by the enemy, but always broke away. He was a scout through the entire war, and took enough recruits through the lines to form a regiment. He was sitting one night in a mountain cabin when a detachment of Federal cavalry threw open the door and marched in. He wore the Confederate uniform, but they did not know that he was the daring scout for whom they had sought so long. Covering him with their cocked carbines, they demanded his surrender. He gave up his rifle, and asked permission of the officer in command to stop into the other room to get his hat. This he was permitted to do, a guard being sent with him. Once alone with the Federal, he drew a revolver, shot him through the head, bounded through an open window, and escaped. Deer, bears, cougars, and wolves became plentiful on Cheat Mountain during the war, as they were not hunted then. Alone one night in a laurel thicket, far from any settlement, I came suddenly upon a flock of sleeping deer. They whistled loudly and bounded into the air all around me, making such an infernal din that I thought at first, I must have run into a Yankee outpost! One night a cougar followed me for a mile or more, keeping some distance away, his eyes alone visible, and uttering occasionally a low purring, catlike sound. Growing tired of his company, I opened fire on him with my Henry rifle, and was annoyed by him no more. Accompanied by two other scouts, I crossed the mountains in the winter of 1863. The snow was two feet deep, and we had struggled through it all day long, and it was ten o'clock at night before we saw the welcome light from the cabin window where we had rested on previous journeys. Slipping quietly up to the window and looking into the room, we saw a dozen men lying before the fire, apparently sound asleep. Thrown over them were blankets, on which the letters "U.S." were plainly visible. In one corner of the cabin stood their rifles, leaning against the wall. They were four to one; but we were quite worn out with marching, and the next house where we could safely stop was ten miles away, and the snow was deep and drifting. After brief consultation, we threw open the door, and with cocked rifles dashed between them and their guns. Demanding their surrender, one of them turned lazily over, slowly raised his head, and seeing me, exclaimed: "What the devil's the matter with you, Jim? Do you suppose that any but Confederates would be out in such a storm? "He was Mortimer Johnson, one of our most successful scouts coming through the lines with a party of recruits. Poor fellow! He was shot dead by the Federals on his next trip over the mountains. While a scout was always ready for a fight, he avoided it when possible; his object was to slip through the Union lines, gather what information he could concerning the numbers and movements of the enemy, and take back with him any volunteers who might wish to join the Confederate army. Put when necessary they were most desperate fighters, and were seldom taken alive. John Anderson, a noted scout, was once surrounded io a wood by a company of home guards. He was armed with a Henry rifle, and was a celebrated marksman. He opened fire on them, killed several, and routed the rest. It was said that he killed twenty men during the war. John Righter, a scout of remarkable daring, was taking out ah party of recruits in the summer of 1863, stopping for the day at a cabin at the foot of the mountains. His men, leaving their guns at the house, had gone down to a brook to wash. He was alone in the cabin when it was suddenly surrounded by ten Federal cavalrymen, commanded by Lieut. Cowan. The men at the brook dashed out into the woods, under a heavy fire from the Yankee carbines. Cowan, who knew that Righter was within the cabin, demanded his surrender. Instead of this, however, he threw open the door, and shot the lieutenant dead from his horse; and so sure was his aim, and so rapidly did he work his repeating rifle, that in a few moments one-half of the command were dead, and the remainder scattered in disorderly flight. He brought all the recruits safely into the Confederate camp, and for many a day the diamond ring of the lieutenant blazed on the finger of the scout. Romance, too, played its part in the tragedy of the border. Young Henry Rader was home from Dixie on Christmas Day, 1865. In some mysterious way his presence there became known to the enemy, and as he was an intrepid and successful scout, who had annoyed the Federals at Beverly for years, they determined to either kill or capture him. A mile away lived a neighbor named Peterson, who was now home from the army of the Potomac on furlough; and he told his sister of the plan to capture Rader that Christmas night. Now Annie Peterson's lover was a young lieutenant who followed the flag of Lee, and she determined that Rader should be saved. The Federal party was to start on their expedition at ten o'clock that night; and as the desperate courage of the scout was well known, it was not expected that he would ever be taken alive. As evening came on a fearful hurricane was roaring among the mountains, and a blinding snowstorm darkened all the valley; but Annie did not falter in her purpose. Stealing quietly away from her home at nightfall, she fought her way through the great drifts and the bitter cold until, tired out and half frozen, she came to the home of the Raders. "The Federals are coming Tell Henry to fly, but let me see him before he goes?" she said to his mother. "We thought you were for the Union," replied Mrs. Rader to the daring girl. "I don't know; perhaps I am; but I love the South, and Henry shall not die," she exclaimed passionately. Five minutes later the scout, fully armed and ready for a journey, stood before her. Drawing him aside, she slipped a letter into his hand, saying: "Please give this to Lieut. Hardy when you are safely back in Dixie." "I will indeed, Annie, if I have to walk all over the Confederacy to find him. But you will see him sooner than you think," he replied, as he stepped out into the darkness and the storm. He remained in the neighborhood long enough to locate every Federal outpost; and ten days later he and Lieut. Hardy guided the "Laurel Brigade." over the mountains. captured every picket without giving an alarm, and had the satisfaction of seeing the garrison of Beverly lay down their arms at the feet of Gen. Rosser. "And what of the brave Annie Peterson? " Ah, yes; Rader was best man when Lieut. Hardy married her on Christmas Day, 1866. Confederate Veteran, Vol. II, No. 8, Nashville, Tenn., August, 1894. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- HAND TO HAND FIGHT IN THE ARMY. L. G. Williams, Memphis, Tenn., gives an account, of which the following are extracts, concerning a fight between Corporal McBride and Maj. Rosegarten. During Christmas week of 1862 the Forty fifth Mississippi Regiment Infantry, of Wood's Brigade, Cleburne's Division, was on picket duty near Triune, Tenn. Rosecrans and Bragg were advancing their armies and maneuvering so as to make Murfreesboro or its vicinity the scene of battle, where was fought one of the bloodiest and most stubborn engagements of the great war. It was fought December 31, 1862, and January 1 and 2, 1863, and the Confederates were defeated. The writer, then a youth of eighteen, was second sergeant of Company A, of the Forty-fifth Mississippi. J. T. McBride was first corporal of the same company. This fight actually took place, and I trust that other witnesses on both sides are still alive who will be able to correct me if I make mistakes. I write from memory. At the time mentioned, our company was deployed as skirmishers to meet an advance of cavalry of Gen. McCook's Corps. We engaged with a body of horsemen from a Michigan regiment, I think it was the Fifth. When the crack of carbines and rifles got to be pretty lively, our colonel gave the command: "Skirmishers retreat!" The entire company heard and obeyed except Capt. Connor and Corporal McBride, who were too far away to hear and too busy at the time to heed. To the rear of our skirmish line, some seventy-five or eighty yards, was a ten rail worm fence which would have to be climbed in the retreat. McBride had his eye on some ten or twelve cavalrymen, led by an officer, who were advancing at a gallop, and at the same time realized that his company had fallen back. He determined to make their leader, who was some distance ahead of his men, a target, fire, and then join his command, which by this time had almost passed out of view. Waiting till the officer got within twenty or thirty feet, he took deliberate aim and pulled trigger, when his gun snapped. The major, for that was his rank, dashed forward, almost standing in his stirrups, his saber raised to cleave his enemy's crest, confident of victory, when McBride clubbed his gun and before the major could strike he was knocked from his horse and badly stunned. This was the corporal's chance to retreat, as the man had not reached him, having stopped to capture Capt. Connor and talk to him, so McBride made for the rear in "double quick time." Arriving at the fence, he attempted to get over, but being rather clumsy, and the day damp and drizzly, on grasping the top rail to aid him in getting over, it would slip or be drawn toward him, causing him to let go and fall flat on his back. Three times he made efforts to go over the fence, but each time it was a slip and a fall. Rising for the fourth time, the major, having recovered from the blow and still on foot, was upon him savagely cutting and thrusting at him with his saber, making his mark in good shape across the front of McBride's body. This infuriated the corporal, who sprang at the major like a bulldog, caught him around the body, threw him down, straddled him, and nearly pounded the life out of him with his fists. At this moment the major's troopers, a sergeant and eight or ten men, came up, excitedly and angrily shouting: "Shoot the rebel! shoot him! kill him! No, don't shoot, boys, you'll kill the major take him off! jerk him off!" interspersed with other expressions more profane than polite. At last they got him off the major, who was beaten into insensibility almost and was powerless. But McBride had his "dander up," and struck and kicked at the sergeant and his men ferociously, who threatened to kill him if he didn't give in at once. His own captain finally commanding him, "Surrender, Joe; surrender, you fool!" caused him to submit, but even then reluctantly. The cavalrymen were very much incensed at such pugnacity and nearly frenzied at the condition of their commander, whom they seemed to love very devotedly. They put irons on the corporal as a mark of disgrace as well as a means of safety, and marched him with other prisoners to Gen. McCook's headquarters. On the way to the general our prisoner was still belligerent and unconquered, fighting the Yankees with his tongue, saying: "Ef yer'll turn me loose, I kin lick every one uv yer, one at er time!" When they reached headquarters, the sergeant saluted Gen. McCook, and said: " General, I bring you some prisoners." After returning the salute, the general asked: "What's the matter with that man's hands?" "I had to put irons on him, general." "What for?" "Because he wouldn't surrender." "Take them off instantly, sir. It's the duty of a soldier not to surrender." After questioning Capt. Connor as to Bragg's strength, etc., and receiving from the captain the somewhat flattering as well as politic answer: "Why, Gen. McCook. you are too good a soldier to expect me to answer your question, even if I knew," the general dismissed the Sergeant with his prisoners. Shortly after this incident commenced the tramp, tramp, tramp of the captured "rebs" and their escort or guard toward Murfreesboro. Ah, how many brave lives went out with the midnight knell of the old year on that memorable December 31, 1862, in that battle of Murfreesboro or Stone's River! The temptation for reminiscence and retrospection is great, but I won't indulge. I rejoice, however, that The lines which the wheels of artillery had traced In the blood-softened loam long since are effaced; And the footprints the enemies left on the mold Are lost 'neath the harvest fields surfeit of gold. May the bloom of the wild flowers by the clear river's side In sweetness and beauty mark the spot where each died. But to our hero. By the time they arrived in the neighborhood of the battlefield the number of prisoners had increased until there were two hundred or three hundred, they having been picked up here and there. Here McBride was pointed out to the Federals and others who came to see the prisoners as the vicious rebel who killed Maj. Rosegarten, it having been reported that the gallant major had died. I have often wondered if he did die, or was it rumor? The morning of the battle the prisoners, and their guard (which had been increased in numbers) were grouped around fires trying to keep warm. Among them was a tough-looking, stoutly built Irishman, who was full of fun, guying everything and everybody, scoring the Southern Confederacy and Confederate soldiers, and in a spirit of banter said he could "lick the civil out of any bloody Confederate from Jeff Davis down to the lowest private, be dad!" Finally McBride, seeing that the remarks were to him, said he couldn't lick him. So the guard and guarded, being in for fun, gathered around the champions, exclaiming: "Make a ring, boys! make a ring, and let 'em have it out!" A ring was formed, and at it they went, the corporal terribly in earnest, the Irishman indifferent and smiling. McBride was soon " knocked out." In the midst of the battle that raged that morning, McBride would shout to his friends, the enemy, as they ran and dodged, "What yer runnin' fer? why don't yer stand and fight like men?" and tried his best to rally Rosey's men, until his fellow-prisoner, Capt. Connor, interposed, saying, "For God's sake, Joe, don't try to rally the Yankees! keep 'em on the run. Do anything to continue the demoralization, and let's make our escape." With all the disorder, however, the guard kept their prisoners well in hand, escorting them to a place of safety. Corporal McBride was sent to Camp Douglas. The following spring he was exchanged, and you may be sure his return was greeted with hearty welcome by his comrades of the Forty-fifth. He returned in time to take part in the campaign beginning at Tullahoma, Tenn., passing unharmed through the battles of Chickamauga, Missionary Ridge, and Ringgold Gap. In all these engagements Corporal McBride added fresh laurels to his fame for courage and devotion to duty as color bearer. At last, however, after bearing our colors fearlessly through Resaca, at New Hope Church, on the Kennesaw line, Marietta, Atlanta, and Jonesboro, he bravely planted them on the fateful breastworks at Franklin, Tenn., on that awful November evening in 1864, and there gave up his life. Corpora1 J. T. McBride was mustered into service at Jackson, Miss., November 4, 1861, Company A, Third Mississippi Battalion of Infantry. He was from near Westville, the county seat of Simpson County, where he owned a little farm on which he supported himself and family. He was a devout Methodist. Is war wrong? God knows. Only one Judge is just, for only one Knoweth the hearts of men, and hearts alone Are guilty or guiltless. Confederate Veteran, Vol. II, No. 9, Nashville, Tenn., September, 1894. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- HEROIC AND PATRIOTIC MARYLANDERS. [Gen. Bradley T. Johnson.] In an address before the Confederate Association of St. Mary's County, Md., Gen. Bradley T. Johnson said: We come of game stock. I never saw a Marylander who was a coward. I want posterity to consider us as sound-headed as well as warm-hearted, and I want them to understand that our course in leaving our native State was dictated by reason as well as by enthusiasm, that we were perfectly right in doing as we did, and were actuated by the highest motives of intelligent patriotism that we failed was no fault of ours. We did our full duty, aud we will die in the conviction that if we had it to do over we should do just as we did then, only more efficiently, as experience has shown us how to do. When Great Britain acknowledged the independence of the States, she recognized each by name as an independent and sovereign State. Maryland was as sovereign as England or France. These sovereign States formed a government to protect their liberty and independence, but they never gave up the right to change their form of government at their pleasure. It was to be a government of equal States and equal laws, but each State must of necessity be the sole and final judge as to when she would require other guarantee and protection of the liberty of the people. The institution of slavery is the organization of labor in all primitive societies. It always has been so and always will be so. It is one of the great forces by which savage races are civilized and civilized people subdue nature and develop arts, science, and thought. It was the basic institution of the American colonization. New England enslaved the Indians. We never did. But African savages were civilized here, and civilized by the control of the civilized race—its religion, its morals, and its measures. There never has been an equal number of Africans as highly developed as that portion of the race living in America, and this development was the result of American servitude. The habit of control and the practice of masterdom made the Southern man reliant, positive, and forceful. He controlled the formative period of the new society. He formed the Union under the Constitution, and he directed the policy of the Union for the first seventy years of its existence. His power was the logical result of the institution by which he was formed. His whole energy was directed to the art of governing. The assertion of intellectual predominance and the exhibition of material power in the South produced irritation, envy, and ill will. For thirty years prior to 1860 the North had been gradually making up its mind for the overthrow of the predominance in the South. When, therefore, in 1861, the issue was presented to the Marylander whether he should stand by, in base ease and inglorious safety, while his blood and kin in Virginia were dying like men, resisting the invasion of their homes and the subjugation of their liberties, he hesitated not a moment, and with the kiss of his mother and the blessing of his father he flew to the assistance of Virginia. In the Maryland line there were not twenty men who had any property interest in slavery. There was not a man who sought promotion or advantage of fortune. They went to stand by their friends in trouble, to defend rights inherited from free ancestors. Those of us who were of mature age had distinct ideas of policy and of the future. We believed that the interests of Maryland required that she should become one of the Confederate States. We did not believe she would be safe in the hands of the lawless democracy of the North. We knew that our people had the same feelings, and that we fully and fairly represented them; and we knew that the only way to secure that future union was to hold for the State a representation in the armies of the South. With that purpose firmly fixed in my mind, I refused to accept a commission of lieutenant colonel from the Governor of Virginia, and was mustered into the army of the Confederate States as captain. And never in that glorious epoch and fiery trial did we cease to maintain a Maryland organization, under a Maryland flag, in the army of the Confederate States. Gen. George H. Steuart, Capt. George Thomas, and the rest were earnest, faithful, and devoted to this end, and we succeeded in writing the name of the State on the brightest pages of American history. The existence of the Maryland Line of the Army of Northern Virginia is not recorded on a single page of the archives of Maryland. Not a single honor decorates our gallant comrades not a recognition of the self-sacrifice, devotion, and chivalry of the Maryland Confederate has ever been made by the powers that have controlled Maryland for thirty-four years. But these men were the best soldiers she has ever had. They fought more battles, won more glory, achieved more victories than the old line of the Revolution. The address from which the foregoing extracts are taken was delivered in March. The date is given to indicate the prophecy in the following: Within a few years you have seen insurrections of labor in the States put down by troops. There were more soldiers at Homestead than Washington had for the defense of Philadelphia, and more at the railroad strike the same summer in New York than defended that city from Sir William Howe. In future government will be controlled by the property class that is, the large property class and they will control the paid military force. But an end comes to all that, as it did in Rome and Egypt and Assyria, and in France in 1793, and is coming in Germany to-day. Like causes produce like effects, and logic is eternal and inexorable, and when anarchy with red riot rules the cities of the North their people will call on the Confederates to save them.
Confederate Veteran, Vol. II, No. 11, Nashville, Tenn., November, 1894. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- WAR OF SECESSION. [Hon. S. D. McCormick, Henderson, Ky.] The founders of constitutional government in America differed essentially in their theories, and the government established has been aptly termed "a government of checks and balances." The Revolutionary patriots had grave reason for placing limitations around the Federal power. They had seen and felt the encroachments of a throne. It was owing to the jealousy of a centralized government that the first experiment (1776-1789) failed. By the Constitution of 1789 the Federal arm was strengthened; still, what concessions were made by the States, or what implied powers were delegated to the Federal Government, at the time and subsequently, became the subject of frequent and hot disputes. The Virginia and Kentucky Resolutions asserted the constitutional right of a State to resist or oppose legislation by Congress which was palpably pernicious. This historic controversy marks the closing scenes of the eighteenth century. Again in 1814 the maritime interests of New England met in convention at Hartford, at a time when the power of the young republic was measured on land and ocean against the military power of Great Britain, and so alarming was the attitude of New England that Maj. Jessup was ordered with his regiment to Hartford. holding, no one knows what, secret orders from the Executive. Again, in another form we see the assertion of the principle in 1832, when South Carolina, standing within the Union, began to arm its citizens to resist the mandates of the Federal courts, and Andrew Jackson, a Carolinian, on the part of the government, declared that he would put a halter around the neck of the first man who should shed the blood of an officer of the United States in the execution of Federal process. It cannot be questioned that the quarrels of 1798-99, 1814, 1832 grew in intensity until 1861. Thus we see that two great principles were at issue: the one known as Federal unity, the other as State sovereignty. The last named ultimately divided into two schools of opinion in the South, State rights and Southern rights. The former asserting for the States rights exercised by the general government, and especially claiming that the allegiance of the citizens to the State was primary to the claim of the general government; the latter (Southern rights) asserting this and going further to proclaim the constitutional right of a State to peaceable secession. It was the assertion of this doctrine which culminated in the scenes of 1860-61, when State after State withdrew from the Union, calling their citizens to their defense, and putting upon each citizen the grim alternative of bearing arms against the home or general government. We come now to a proper designation of the greatest conflict of constitutional history, which the act of secession inaugurated. From the standpoint of the Union the war had one of two defined and evident meanings: It was a war of emancipation, or a war to determine the alleged constitutional right of secession. That it was not a war of emancipation was expressly and repeatedly disclaimed by Lincoln and the Federal Congress in 1861, while rallying to the flag the power of the Union. It was true that emancipation was the happy exigence of war, but that it was such primarily was disclaimed in emphatic language. The term coercion, which seems confusing to some, was simply the armed assertion of the principle of Federal unity, denying the constitutional right of secession, holding such an ordinance null and void, and asserting the duty of the Government to execute Federal process in all the States, including the seceded territory. The War of Secession, or a war to perpetuate the Union, would seem to describe the coercive policy to the Federal administration. As to the action of the South, as stated in a recent issue of the VETERAN by our friend, Dr. J. Wm. Jones, it was not a war of rebellion. The Southern States claimed to act by lawful authority. In seceding they did not ask war, but peace, and protested their constitutional right to peaceably withdraw from the Union as a right reserved in the creation of the government—reviving the quarrels, and citing as precedents 1798-99, 1814, 1832. I have more fully developed another paper, from which I quote: "It was in the interest of security and peace that the Southern States renounced allegiance to the Federal Government and resumed their sovereign functions as States. Believing the welfare and happiness of the citizens to be imperiled by longer continuance in the Federal Union." It should be clear that so far as the South was concerned, the Civil War was a "War of Secession," or a war waged by the South in the assertion and belief of such political right. The "War of Rebellion" is objectionable, as it offends. On the other hand, "War of Secession" is suggestive, terse, and significant. The real meaning is embalmed in these words: a war waged by the Federal Government against the asserted right of a State to peaceably or forcibly secede from the Union, the South maintaining the right as a constitutional franchise; the administration disputing the claim, and holding an ordinance of secession to be null and void. I care not for sentimental reasons, but would be pleased to hear any definite objections to the title, "War of Secession." Confederate Veteran, Vol. III, No. 1, Nashville, Tenn., January, 1895. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "DESERTER" PARDONED BY GENERAL LEE [Uknown.] In the winter of 1862-3 Colonel A. C. Battle, of the Confederate army, presided over a court martial of the Army of Northern Virginia. Case after case wee disposed of, and then the case of Edward Cooper was called—a young artilleryman charged with desertion: The prisoner pleaded not guilty, and the judge advocate was beginning for the prosecution, when the court interposed to ask the accused who his counsel was. "I have no counsel," was the reply. The specifications against him were all sustained by the evidence, and he was told to introduce his witnesses. "I have no witnesses," he answered. The president of the court, astonished at the prisoner's calmness, said: "Have you no defense? Is it possible that you abandoned your comrades, and deserted your colors without any reason?" "There was a reason," said the young man, "but it will not avail me before a military court." "You may be mistaken." The prisoner trembled, and for the first time tears filled his eyes. He stepped up to Colonel Battle and handed him a letter. "There, Colonel, is what did it." The president read the letter, and in a moment his eyes, too, were moist. The paper was passed from hand to hand, and soon the whole court was in tears. This was the letter, as Colonel Battle read it in the prisoner's defense: "MY DEAR EDWARD.—I have always been proud of you, and since your connection with the Confederate Army I have been prouder of you shall ever. I would not have you do anything wrong for the world; but before God, Edward, unless you come home, we must die! Last night I was roused by little Eddie crying. I called and said, 'What's the matter, Eddie?' and he said, 'O mamma, I am so hungry!' And Lucy, your darling Lucy, she never complains, but she is growing thinner every day, and I repeat, unless you come home, we must all die. YOUR MARY." "What did you do when you received this letter?" asked Colonel Battle. "I applied for a furlough," was the prisoner's answer. "The application was rejected. Again and again I made application, and it was rejected. Then, one night, as I wandered back and forth in the camp, with LUCY'S eyes on me and her mother's words burning into my brain, I was no longer the Confederate soldier; I was the father of Lucy, and the husband of Mary. And I would have passed those lines if every gun in the battery had fired upon me. "I went home. Mary ran out to meet me. Her arms were round me as she whispered: "'O Edward, I am so happy I am so glad you got your furlough!' "She must have felt me shudder. She turned pale as death, and catching her breath at every word, "'O Edward, Edward, go back! go back! Let me and the children go down to the grave, but save the honor of your name!' "And here I am, not brought here by military power, but in obedience to Mary's command, to abide the sentence of your court." Moved as the officers of the court martial were, they did their duty as they understood it, and each in turn pronounced the same sentenced: "Guilty." Fortunately the proceedings of the court were reviewed by the commanding general. He endorsed the record thus: "HEADQUARTERS ARMY NORTHERN VIRGINIA—The finding of the court is approved. The prisoner is pardoned, and will report to his company. R. E. LEE, General."
Confederate Veteran, Vol. III, No. 1, Nashville, Tenn., January, 1895. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- THE PREACHER STOLE THE SKILLET Thomas H., an old soldier, told me this good story: He was on the staff of Gen. H. during war, aud in the spring of 1865 he was sent on some duty to North, Carolina. He left his horse at a point in South Carolina, and took a train for the old North State, with the command of Gen. Manigault. The train stopped at a little station for water, and a flat car was opposite the platform of the depot. The depot platform was occupied by a motley collection of people, household goods, cooking utensils, bedding, etc., belonging to the people, who were being taken out of danger of the Federal troops. Friend H. said he saw a beautiful skillet near by, and he longed to get it, but the owner was at hand. An Episcopal clergyman who had charge of the church in the village came on the platform and asked what troops were on the train, when some one said, "The Thousand and Thirtieth Florida," and another said 'The Nine Hundred and Sixty-seventh, South Carolina." Not getting the information he wanted from the men, the clergyman saw Capt. H. sitting on the flat car, his feet hanging over the side, and he came up and asked him. About this time the train started off, and H. said, "Good-bye, parson;" and just as the cars got well under way, H. called out,"O parson, I left my skillet; there it is!" The preacher grabbed it and, running up, handed it to him. Just then the owner saw it, and called: "Mister, mister, you have given the soldier man my skillet!" It was too late, and as the cars rolled away H. held his skillet up and sang out, "Thank you, parson," leaving the preacher to settle for it.
|
|
We are part of ©The
Georgia GenWeb and AHGP 03/15/2008
This nonprofit research network is affiliated with the American History and Genealogy Project and hosted by USGenNet, a nonprofit historical and genealogical Safe-Haven Server. No claim is made to the copyrights of individual submitters, and this site complies fully with with USGenNet's Nonprofit Conditions of Use. Copyright 1991 - All Rights Reserved
|
