glimpses of our beleaguered south land
while few, i think, perceived it clearly at that early day, yet in the spring of ’2 the fortunes of the confederacy were declining. many of our wisest men were already doubtful of the issue even where belief in the justice of our cause never wavered. looking back upon the prophecies of ultimate defeat that were uttered in those days, by men accustomed to sound the security of governments, i am thrilled at the flood of patriotic feeling on which our men and women were borne to continue in arms against such overwhelming forces and conditions as were brought against them. for months before that first congress adjourned, from every part of our federated states, eager petitioning, complaints and ominous news reached us. gold, that universal talisman, was scarce, and confederate currency began to be looked upon with a doubtful eye. so far-seeing a man as judge john a. campbell, writing to mrs. campbell from new orleans early in april, 1862, said: “in the event of the restoration of northern rule, confederate money may be worthless. i proceed on that assumption. it will certainly depreciate more and more. hence, your expenditures should be confederate money, and, in any event, the bank-notes of georgia, virginia and louisiana are preferable to confederate bills. if the war should last another year, the embarrassments of everyone will be increased tenfold!”
within a few months the face of our capital had changed. mcclellan’s ever-swelling army in the peninsula became more and more menacing. the shadow of 179coming battles fell over the city, and timid ones hastened away to points that promised more security. some went to the mountain resorts “to escape the hot term” in richmond, but many of the wives and daughters of non-householders, even among those known to possess a cool courage, moved on to the carolinas or returned to their native states. as the close of the congressional session drew near, there was a continual round of good-byes and hand-shakings, and even an attempt now and then at a gaiety which no one actually felt.
our markets grew suddenly poor, and following quickly upon the heels of a seeming prosperity, a stringency in every department of life in the city was felt. the cost of living was doubled, and if, indeed, any epicures remained, they were glad to put aside their fastidiousness. within a year our vermicelli, when we had it at all, would have warranted an anglicising of its first two syllables, and our rice, beans, and peas, as well as our store of grains and meal, began to discover a lively interest in their war-time surroundings. we heard tales of a sudden demand for green persimmons, since a soldier, feeding upon one of these, could feel his stomach draw up and at once forget that he was “hawngry.” i remember hearing the story of a certain superficial lady who spoke disdainfully, in the hearing of mrs. roger a. pryor, of a barrel of sorghum which some friend had sent her from a distance. full of contempt, she ordered the offending gift to be taken away. “horrid stuff!” she said.
“horrid?” asked mrs. pryor, gently. “why! in these days, with our country in peril, i am grateful when i am able to get a pitcher of sorghum, and i teach my children to thank god for it!”
our mail, from many quarters, was now become a pandora’s box, from which escaped, as we opened it, myriad apprehensions, dissatisfactions or distresses. “pray,” wrote a friend from new orleans, “when you see 180the president, beg him to give some attention to the disloyal element in the cities, and particularly in this city, which is filled with strangers who appear and disappear in the most mysterious manner, go to private boardinghouses, examine the defenses, etc., etc.”
“i am thus far on my way home,” wrote william l. yancey, from the same city, in a letter dated march 14, 1862, “having left havana on the 26th ultimo on a small schooner, and arrived at sabine pass on the 6th. two of lincoln’s vessels had been anchored in the channel of that harbour for a week and only left twenty-four hours before my arrival.... this city is almost in a state of revolution,” he added. “fifteen hundred of its wealthiest and most respectable citizens and good southerners have organised an association and resolved to assume executive and judicial functions to arrest, try, imprison, banish or hang!... there is undoubtedly a deep-seated feeling of wrong done them and of anxiety for the city’s safety at the bottom of all this, and this association should not be treated as a mere lawless mob. their success, however, would be the knell of our cause in england, and perhaps on the continent. i am doing all i can to throw oil on the troubled waters, and i hope with some effect.”
shortly after his arrival in richmond, mr. yancey, whom my husband greatly admired, spent a morning in our chamber—space was too costly at this time to admit of our having a private parlour—in conference with mr. clay, and a more hopeless and unhappy statesman i never saw. the people in england, he declared, were for, but parliament opposed to us, and his mission, therefore, had been fruitless. every action and each word he uttered demonstrated that he knew and felt the ultimate downfall of the confederacy.
by a singular coincidence, almost under the same circumstances but some months later, a similar conference 181took place in our rooms, but mr. lamar was now the returned diplomat. but recently home from an unfinished mission to russia, our long-time friend talked, as had mr. yancey, with a conviction that our cause was hopeless. mr. lamar had proceeded only so far as london and paris, when, observing the drift of public feeling abroad, he took ship again, arriving, as did many of our returned foreign emissaries, on the top of a friendly wave. the sea was peculiarly inimical to the cause of the confederate states, sinking many of the merchant ships we succeeded in sending through the blockading fleets that beset our coast, and wrecking our ambassadors wherever it could grapple them, even on our very shores.
by the time congress closed in the spring of ’2, the news from the tennessee valley was distracting. the enemy had succeeded in reaching our home, and huntsville was now become the headquarters of general o. m. mitchell. if that gentleman had taken delight in anything besides the vigorous exercise of an unwelcome authority, he might have found there an ideal spot for the prosecution of his astronomical researches. the span that rests upon the opposite apices of monte sano and lookout mountain is one of gorgeous beauty. upon a clear night the planets glow benignly upon the valley, the little stars laugh and leap and go shooting down great distances in a manner unparalleled in more northerly latitudes. though generally loyal to the cause of the confederacy, the people of huntsville were not indisposed to look upon the author-soldier with considerate eyes, had that general adopted a humane course toward them. unfortunately, his career in our valley from beginning to end was that of a martinet bent upon the subjugation of the old and helpless and the very young, our youths and strong men being away in the field.
the accounts that reached us by letter and by eyewitnesses of the scenes in the clay home were alarming. 182everything belonging to the clays, it was rumoured, was to be confiscated. “judge scruggs told stanley,” wrote mother, “that the clays are to be stript of all.” father’s negroes, and most of our own, were conducting themselves in an insolent manner, taking to the mountains when there was work to be done, or wandering in the train of straggling union soldiers, but returning when hungry to feed upon their master’s rapidly diminishing stores. in some instances, relying upon the protection of the soldiers, the negroes of the town would take possession of the home of an absent master, revelling in an opportunity to sleep in his bed or to eat from the family silver and china.
a dozen times a day, and at unreasonable hours, if the invading soldiery saw fit, they entered the houses of the citizens in what was often merely a pretended search for some concealed confederate, or to demand food or drink or horses. they were constantly on the lookout for the possible visits, to their families, of the distinguished citizens in temporary banishment from huntsville. the presence of general pope walker being suspected (though no longer secretary of war, he would have been a desirable prize to take, since he had issued orders for the firing of the first gun at fort sumter), for months the home of our friend ex-governor chapman, in which the family of general walker had taken refuge, was searched daily, the vigilants being so scrupulous in their investigations that even the leaves of a dictionary were parted, lest the wily late secretary should spirit himself away between its covers.[25]
“the enemy came demanding food or horses,” wrote 183mother, “taking all they could of breadstuffs, meat stock, and all the able-bodied negroes, whether willing or not. our men hid, but they took the horses and mules, and promised to return in a week and take everything!”
alas, poor little mother! those were but the beginning of bitterer days and yet sterner deprivations! for months the only hope of our beleagured neighbours in huntsville lay in the prayed-for advance of general bragg, though their prayers, too, were interdicted when made in the church; and, upon the investment of the town, our pastor, doctor bannister,[26] was quickly instructed as to the limited petitions with which he might address his god on behalf of his people.
in the meanwhile, the courage of our citizens was kept alive by general roddy, who lay over the crest of monte sano. the forays of his men were a perpetual worry to the federals in the valley. so audacious, indeed, did they become that the federal general razed the houses on “the hill” and threw up breastworks, behind which he built a stout fort, the better to resist the possible attacks from the mountain side by brave general roddy and his merry men.
during general mitchell’s investment of huntsville he was accompanied by his daughters, who, in the ransacking of our home, fell heiresses to certain coveted and “confiscated” articles of my own, but the possession of which could scarcely have been an unmixed pleasure. i heard of my losses first through a letter written late in august. “mr. hammond,” began the epistle, “says in atlanta he saw a lady just from nashville who told him that miss mitchell rode out in your green habit on your mare! this part of the story,” continued my witty sister, “may be true, but there is another: that the other miss mitchell 184rode in my habit on my mare! i’m glad i had no mare, and am sorry for poor ‘jenny lind’!”
months afterward i heard (and any who asks may still hear the story in the town, for it has become one of huntsville’s war-time annals) an account of miss mitchell’s outings in my now celebrated green habit. her path, it seems, as she trotted my pretty mare about the streets, was not strewn with roses; for, though absent from our beloved little city, i was not forgotten. one day the horsewoman, passing proudly on her way, saw, looking over the garden gate of a pretty cottage, the laughing face of sweet alice spence, a right loyal admirer of my undeserving self. alice looked up at the passing apparition, and, full of daring, half mischievously, half indignantly, cried out after it, “hey! git off ’ginie clay’s mare! git—off—’ginie clay’s ma—are!”
at the sound of these words miss mitchell galloped away in great anger. while alice was still regaling her mother with a jubilant account of her championship of my property, a proof reached her of general mitchell’s implacability. that afternoon her brother was ordered into arrest, and for months thereafter was kept in custody as a guarantee for his sister’s good behaviour!
when, later, mr. clay and i were enabled to visit huntsville (the federals having been beaten back for a time), i heard of an amusing encounter which took place at the home of the spences between mrs. spence and john a. logan. a swarthy stripling in appearance, the young officer stood carelessly about, whilst several soldiers of his command were engaged in a search of the premises. as mrs. spence entered the room in which the officer stood, she eyed him with genuine curiosity.
“whose boy are you?” she asked at last. her daughter, who was beside her, caught her mother’s arm in alarm.
“why, ma!” she gasped. “that’s general logan!”
185“general logan!” repeated her mother, contemptuously. “i tell you he’s nothing of the kind! he’s black!”
it was already early summer when we left the troubled capital, where everyone was keyed to a high pitch of excitement by the man?uvrings of the enemy, now so near that the reverberating sound of distant cannon was plainly audible. our way was southward. though withdrawing, as i supposed, for a change of scene during the congressional recess only, in reality my refugee days had now begun; for, notwithstanding i made several later stays of varying duration at richmond, the greater part of the two succeeding years was spent at the homes of hospitable kin far away from that centre of anxiety and deprivation. upon leaving richmond, in may of ’2, senator clay and i, stopping en route at the home of my uncle, buxton williams, in warrenton, north carolina, proceeded by easy stages to augusta, macon and columbus, where many of our kinfolks and friends resided, and to which cities i often returned, when, from time to time, the exigencies of the war compelled my husband and me to separate. georgia, save when sherman’s men marched through it, two years later, was the safest and most affluent state in the confederacy; but in the summer of ’2 there were few localities which did not retain, here and there at least, an affluent estate or two. until almost the end of hostilities the home of my uncle williams in warrenton continued to be with us in richmond the synonym for plenty. when i had starved in the capital, i dropped down to “buxton place,” whence i was sure to return laden with hampers of sweets and meats and bread made of the finest “number one” flour, which proved a fine relief to the “seconds” to which the bread-eaters of the confederate capital were now reduced. in the course of a year molasses and “seconds” (brown flour with the bran still in it) came to be regarded as luxuries by many 186who but a short time ago had feasted capriciously upon the dainties of a limitless market.
my uncle williams was an astute man, and when he was assured that war had become a settled fact, instead of hoarding his means for the benefit of invading soldiers, he retired to his country home, bought out the contents of a local store, which he transferred to his own cupboards and pantry, and made “buxton place” to “kith and kin” the most generous and hospitable of asylums. it was a peaceful, happy place, set among ample grounds, with noble trees rising about, in which birds carolled as they coquetted among the foliage and squirrels gambolled at their will through the long, lazy days. no chicory and sugar, adopting the alias of coffee, found place on that sumptuous board in those first years, but only the bona fide stuff! we had sugar in abundance, and pyramids of the richest butter, bowls of thick cream, and a marvellous plenitude of incomparable “clabber.”
once, during our wandering that autumn, we slipped over to “millbrook,” the home of my cousins the hilliards, and thence to shocco springs, long a famous north carolina resort, where, to the music of a negro band, the feet of a merry little company went flying over the polished floor as if the world were still a happy place, despite its wars and wounds and graves and weeping women.
life at dear old “millbrook,” rich with a thousand associations of my childhood and family, still ran serenely on. the loudest sound one heard was the hum of the bee on the wing as it rushed to riot in the amber honey sacs of the flowers. but whether at “millbrook” or “buxton place,” whether we outwardly smiled or joined in the mirth about us, inwardly my husband and i were tortured with fears born of an intimate knowledge of our national situation. we watched eagerly for our despatches, and, when they came, trembled as we opened 187them. some of our communications rang with triumph, others with an overwhelming sadness.
a thrilling letter from richmond reached us after the terrible “battle of seven pines.” a mere mention of that deadly conflict for years was enough to start the tears in southern eyes, and sons and daughters, as they grew up, were taken back to look upon the bloody field as to a sacred mausoleum. the letter was written by robert brown, our erstwhile sir lucius, of mrs. ives’s famous performance, and now serving as aide-de-camp to general winder.
“i have been beholding scenes of carnage,” he wrote on the 10th of june. “on the afternoon of the 31st ult. winder and myself rode down to the battle-field. the reports of the cannon were distinctly heard here, and as we approached the field, the firing became terrific! we met wounded and dying men, borne upon litters and supported by solicitous friends. the scene was revolting to me, but, singular to say, in a very short time i became accustomed to this sight of horror, and the nearer we approached the line of battle, the nearer we wished to get; but we were quite satisfied to get so near the line (proper) as the headquarters of general longstreet, which was under a fine old oak tree on a slight elevation. the general was there, sitting most complacently upon a fine horse, surrounded by his staff, who were riding away at intervals bearing his orders to the line and returning. we were about a quarter of a mile from the engagement, and we could distinctly hear the shouts of victory of our gallant troops, literally driving the enemy before them. entrenchment and battery after battery were wrested from the yankees by our splendid troops, old north carolina leading them!
“imagine the powder burnt! i tell you, the firing was awful, but glorious! near the headquarters of longstreet were regiments of splendid, eager troops drawn up 188in line as a reserve. amid the heavy firing, the glorious cheering of our troops, squad after squad of yankee prisoners were brought up to longstreet under guards buoyant with victory; and, as each reached headquarters, i tell you that the reserve force would send up a yell of delight that split the air and made old earth tremble! one little brave band of fifty-five south carolinians brought in one hundred and sixty-six live yankees and a captain whom they had taken! the excitement was intense! the firing ceased at seven o’clock. i remained in the field until the last gun was fired. our troops occupied the enemy’s camp that night and all the next day; and monday our military talent thought it prudent and best to fall back and give the enemy the vantage ground we had gained!
“general johnston was wounded, but not seriously, it is said. smith’s horse was shot in two places, on the shoulder and just back of the saddle; the general’s coat-tail, they say, was seriously injured. lieutenant-colonel sydenham moore was wounded; the ball struck his watch, literally shattering it! general pettigrew was not killed, but seriously wounded, and fell into the hands of the enemy. they, thank god, lost two brigadier generals and one seriously wounded. our total loss, killed and wounded, was thirty-five hundred. the enemy acknowledge eight hundred killed and four thousand wounded. it was a fearful fight!
“we have good news every day from jackson! to-day brings us the news of his having ‘completely routed the enemy, taking six pieces of artillery!’ old stonewall is certainly the hero of the war, and unless our generals beauregard and johnston look sharp, he will entirely take the wind out of their sails and leave them in the lee-ward!”
“the city is filled with the wounded and dead,” echoed our cousin john withers. “it is fortunate you are away 189and saved the necessity of beholding the horrible sights which are now so common here! great numbers of alabamians are killed and wounded....” and he added in a letter, written in an interval of the awful seven days battles: “for four days i have been awaiting some decisive move on the part of our forces, but nothing has been done yet to settle affairs. mcclellan has not been routed, but his army is, no doubt, demoralised to such an extent as to render any other demonstration against richmond out of the question for many weeks.... the president has come up from the battle-field, and i hear that a courier from the french and british consuls is to leave here for washington to-night or in the morning. we will secure between thirty and forty thousand small arms by our late operations; many of them much injured by being bent. the enemy have a position now which we cannot well assail successfully. they are under their gunboats and have gotten reinforcements.... there is a report to-night that magruder has captured eight hundred yankees to-day, but i place no reliance upon any rumour until it is confirmed as truth. general beauregard has made a most successful retreat to baldwin, thirty-five miles south of corinth, on the mobile and ohio railroad. the move was necessary, and i have no doubt will be a great blow to the enemy. he carried all his heavy guns, tents, and so on. general lee is in command of the army hereabouts, and i am sure we will whip mcclellan’s army when the grand contest shall take place. the rain of last night will forbid any movement for two or three days. when the fight opens again, we will have thousands upon thousands of wounded here!”
such were the accruing records of woe and of personal and national loss which followed senator clay and me throughout those autumn months of ’2. the inroad made upon the gallant regiments of our own state were 190frightful. the ranks of the splendid fourth alabama regiment, picked men of our finest blood, the flower of our hopes, as handsome a body as a state might muster, were terribly thinned. wherever a call came our alabamians were found in the front, the envy and admiration of the army, quickening the courage and firing the imaginations of every company that beheld them. but oh! our men had need of a mighty courage, for soon the very seed-corn of our race became a sacrifice. the picture rises before me of a youthful cousin[27] who fell at malvern hill, shot down as he bore aloft the banner which he fondly hoped would lead to victory. his blood-stained cap, marked by a bullet hole, was all that returned of our fair young soldier boy. another youth,[28] on whom the love and hope of a dear circle was settled, fell with his heart pierced, and so swift was the passing of his soul that he felt no pain nor sorrow. they say an eager smile was on his face when they found him. for years his loved ones, gazing upon it with weeping eyes, treasured the blood-stained, bullet-torn handkerchief that had lain over the wounded heart of the boy!
the tears start afresh when, looking into my memory, there passes before me that army of the dead and gone. oh! the sorrow that overcame all who knew him (and the circle was wide as half the south itself) when the news came of the death of colonel sydenham moore, who fell at seven pines; and even the enemy spoke solemnly at the passing of our beloved general tracy, who died so courageously fighting in the battle of port gibson, within three-quarters of a year! “i have little active service at this post,” he complained from vicksburg, in march of ’3, “and the very fact incapacitates me for the discharge of duties of other kinds. in fact, i am ennuied past description!” so, chafing impatiently to 191write his name in brave deeds across some page of the confederate states’ history, he sprang to meet the call when it came, and fell, crowned with immortal glory in the hearts of a loving people.
general tracy’s young wife was awaiting him, an infant at her bosom, when we returned late in november of ’2 for a brief stay at huntsville, from which, for a time, the union soldiers had been beaten back. by this time our valley seemed so safe that families from other threatened districts came to take refuge in it. colonel basil duke, among others, brought his wife to huntsville. numerous absentee householders came back; and interest in local enterprises was resumed. when, in december, my husband returned to his duties in the senate, there was small reason to apprehend an early reappearance, in huntsville, of the federals. “north alabama,” general bragg assured my husband, “is as secure now as it was when i held murfreesboro!” and on this assurance our spirits rose and we departed again, promising ourselves and our parents we would return within a few months at most.
mr. clay proceeded at once to richmond, beset now with deadly enemies within as well as without. smallpox and scarlet fever raged there, as in many of our larger cities, and i pleaded in vain to be allowed to accompany him. i turned my way, therefore, in company with others of our kin, toward macon, where was sojourning our sweet sister, mrs. hugh lawson clay, at the home of major anderson comer, her father. thence it was proposed i should proceed with her later to richmond under the escort of colonel clay.
that winter the weather was peculiarly cold, so much so that on the plantations where wheat had been sown, a fear was general lest the grain be killed in the ground. the journey to macon, therefore, was anything but comfortable, but it had 192its amusing sides nevertheless. we were a party of women.
“we arrived safely (self, kate, alice and servants),” i wrote in a kaleidoscopic account which i gave my husband of the indications of the times as seen en route. “we rode from stevenson to chattanooga on the freight train, the baggage-cars on the passenger-train being unable to receive a single trunk. arriving at chattanooga, we would have been forced to go to the small-pox hotel or remain in the streets but for the gallantry of an acquaintance of ours, an army officer of washington memory, who gave up his room to us, and furnished some wagons to have our baggage hauled to the depot. at atlanta there was a scatteration of our forces.... when night came” (being fearful of robbery, for hotels were unsafe) “i stuffed in one stocking all my money, and in the other, mine and alice’s watches, chains, pins, and charms. i felt not unlike miss kilmansegg, of the precious leg. we fumigated the room, had a bed brought in for emily, and retired. at breakfast colonel garner told me that uncle jones [withers] was in the house, and in a few minutes he presented himself. he got in at three that morning, en route for mobile with thirty days’ leave; looked worn, and was sad, i thought. colonel george johnson, of marion, also called, and we had them all and dr. w., of macon, to accompany us to the cars. the guard at the gate said ‘passport, madam,’ but i replied, ‘look at my squad; general withers, colonel garner of bragg’s staff, and a colonel and lieutenant in the confederate service. i think i’ll pass!’” and i passed!
