REMINISCENCES OF A MISSISSIPPIAN
IN PEACE AND WAR:
Electronic Edition.
Frank Alexander Montgomery, b. 1830
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Call number 973.78 M78r 1901 (Davis Library, UNC-CH)
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LC Subject Headings:
- United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Personal narratives, Confederate.
- Confederate States of America. Army -- Military life.
- Reconstruction (U.S. history, 1865-1877).
- United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Military life.
- United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Regimental histories.
- United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Campaigns.
- Confederate States of America. Army -- Officers -- Biography.
- Confederate States of America. Army. Mississippi Cavalry Regiment, 1st.
- Mississippi -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Personal narratives.
- Mississippi -- Social life and customs.
- Montgomery, Frank A. (Frank Alexander), b. 1830.
- Soldiers -- Mississippi -- Biography.
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BY
Lieutenant-Colonel First Mississippi Cavalry,
Armstrong's
COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY
To my surviving comrades of
Most people who read
books look first at the Preface to see
what the author has to say about himself or about his book,
and often this contains an excuse for writing it. I have no
excuse to offer for what I have written, and since the book itself
is an autobiography will here say nothing about myself; but I
think it proper to give some of the reasons which have induced
me at this late day to become an author.
It has been my fortune to have lived for seventy years in my
native state, Mississippi, and until within the last few months
to have led an active life from boyhood to my present age,
never without some occupation which was congenial to me.
But time which has brought me age has also brought me
leisure, and I have availed myself of it to write my recollections
of so much of the war between the states in which my own
immediate cavalry command took part. In the following pages,
however, I have not confined myself to this, but have allowed
my memory to carry me back to the days when I was a young
man, and to speak of Mississippi life as it then was. So also I
have dwelt upon the reconstruction era in the state and
brought my memoirs down to the present time, with, however,
only a passing reference to the civil offices I have held.
So far as the war is concerned I have felt it almost a duty, it
certainly has been a pleasure, to recall the incidents of that
stirring time and to rescue from oblivion, as far as I can, the
names and deeds of some Mississippi soldiers, and commands, to
whom history in the state has done but scant justice.
If I have succeeded in
this, if I have contributed, in ever so
slight a degree, to the history of the state or of the war, I will be
amply repaid for the work I have done.
FRANK A. MONTGOMERY.
county--Captain Herrin Reports to me--Fights with General
Hovey in Coahoma county--Congressman Hal. Chambers--His duel with Mr.
Lake--Fight at Driscoll's gin--Rejoin regiment. . . . .
74
Joseph E. Johnston, move to relieve Vicksburg--Brigade
ordered forward to the attack--Surrender of Pemberton--Fall
back on Jackson--Confederacy cut asunder--How General Dick
Taylor crossed river--Effect of fall of Vicksburg--Pemberton
blamed severely--Loyalty doubted--siege of
Jackson--Evacuation of Jackson--Judge Sharkey--"Camp near
Brandon"--Letters
to my wife--Captain Herrin's dash at Federals--Captain Herrin
captures foraging party--Lightning kills man in camp--scout into
Jefferson county, General Clark--"Count Wallace". . . . .
122
enthusiasm of troops--Cross the Etowah, brigade in rear--Fight at
creek--Soldier's dream--Battle of Dallas, assault Federal
intrenchments--Repulsed with severe loss in
regiment and
brigade--Letter to my wife describing the battle. . . . .
160
Introduction--Birth place--Old Natchez
trace--Lost villages of
seventy years ago--Territory of Mississippi--Ancestors--Country
school--Oakland College--Its president--His lecture
one day--Political speech of Dr. Duncan, of Ohio--Whig
party--Excitement in Mississippi in 1851--Senators
Jefferson Davis and Henry
S. Foote--Speeches by them--Tragic death of Dr.
Chamberlain--Fate of Oakland College.
For some years past I have purposed
if I lived to the age of seventy to write the story
of my life. That time has now come, and I have the leisure for the first time in my life
since I have been grown, for, though active and vigorous still and capable of work
congenial to me, I have nothing to do except to amuse myself with my pen.
I have lived through the greatest part of the most eventful century in the world's
history, and while I have filled no great place in the history which I, in common with all
other men living during this time, have helped to make, yet my story may not prove
uninteresting to those who read it, and it will at least serve while I am writing it to recall
the past, the friends I have known, the pleasures of my youth, the stirring events of my
manhood, till age has now come to warn me that my time is short, and that what I do I
must do quickly.
Though not a great man in the events I record, yet
what I did and what I saw I can tell, and there are those still
living who will be glad to read what I write; and it may even be
that it will be of some value to some great historian of my state
and of the war who is yet to come. For true history is gathered
from small details by comparatively obscure men who write of
their times, as well as by men who filled larger places in the eye
of the world. In writing this story of my own life I must of
necessity have something to say of the men I have known who
filled far more important places than I did, and who now with
few exceptions have "passed over the river." When I have
occasion to speak of them, while I do so freely, I will I hope do
so kindly.
But one great purpose I have in writing, is to give as far as I
can the details of the operations of the cavalry command to
which I was attached during the great war between the states,
for these are never given in the reports of the great commanders
or in the histories which are compiled from them, except when
some great exploit by a Forest, or Wheeler, or Stuart, is
mentioned. The busy and constant service of the cavalry, its
innumerable fights, and constant loss of life, is rarely if ever
mentioned.
It is to supply to some extent this omission as to my
immediate cavalry command, as well as for other reasons, that I
write this story. I am not, I think, either a vain man or a boastful
one, and I regret that I must of necessity use the personal
pronoun "I" many times in what I write, but my purpose is to
tell a continuous story, and I cannot otherwise do it, at least not
so well; so I hope I may be pardoned by my readers. It is not so much
what I did that I want to tell as it is what the brave men with whom
I served did.
It is a source of deep regret to me that I have not
every name and that I will not even be able to give the
names of all who died in the various affairs of which I will tell,
for it is these men whose names I would gladly make live as far
as I can. The great men who commanded our armies with few
exceptions deserve the honors they won, but it is the unknown
and forgotten who won their honors for them.
Some of the great commanders on each side have told their
stories, and these are of more or less value in making up the
history of the war, but few, if any who held subordinate places
have recorded their observations or their experiences as soldiers
either of the Federal or Confederate armies, and this is to be
regretted, for there were men in the ranks who could if they
would have told interesting stories, and even yet there are many
who can do it if they will, and I hope others may yet do it. But
whatever is done must be done soon, for a few more years and
there will be none left to tell, for especially what Mississippi and
Mississippians did in that great war, and thus aid the historian
who is to come in writing the history of the war and of the state.
Our brave foes have been more fortunate than we have been,
for there is probably not a name of any man who served in their
ranks or who died for their cause whose name has not been
preserved, and their dead lie in well-cared-for cemeteries guarded
with jealous care, that future generations may see how
brave men died for the Union and how a grateful people have
honored their memories.
We of the south, whose dead nearly all lie on the battlefields where
they fell, grudge not these honors to the gallant dead, who while
they lived were our foes; we only ask that history may truly tell our
side of that time "when Greek met Greek." This will be done, though
the time may not have fully come.
But now to my own story.
I was born January 7, 1830, in Adams county, Mississippi,
within about a mile of a place called Selsertown, and which,
though there is now no town, still I believe retains the name. The
place is twelve miles from Natchez, and a tavern was kept there
for a long time, perhaps still is, though the railroad which now
runs near it from Jackson to Natchez has nearly destroyed the
usefulness of the celebrated highway upon which it was situated
except for local purposes. This was the road cut in the earliest
history of the territory of Mississippi from Nashville, Tennessee,
to Natchez, along which General Jackson rode when he sought
and found his bride at the home of his friend, Colonel Thomas
M. Green, on the banks of Coles creek, and along which he
marched his victorious troops when returning after the battle of
New Orleans. It was then the great thoroughfare for all travel
north from Natchez, and most of that south to Natchez, for few
cared to risk the dangers of river travel in those days. At
intervals of about six miles along this road, in the early settlement
of the territory, little villages had been located as I remember,
between Natchez and Port Gibson, first Washington, once the
capital of the state, then Selsertown, Uniontown, Greenville,
Raccoon Box, and one other, the name of which I have forgotten,
Red Lick, I believe, and then Port Gibson. All of these villages
are gone save only their names, and these forgotten except by a
few old men like myself, and except that Washington still
remains, a small village preserved perhaps by the college located
there. The history of this part of the state always possessed
and still does, a romantic interest for me, because perhaps, when
a boy I knew many of those who had either been among its
earliest settlers, or were their descendants then grown, and who
loved to talk of their trials, of the Indians, of the Spaniards who
owned the
country when it first began to be settled by American pioneers,
and of highway robbers who sometimes waylaid the solitary
traveler. Some of the stories I may tell as I recall them. The
story of the ill-fated tribe of the Natchez, of the French
occupation, then of the English, then of the Spanish,
and last, its cession to the United States, all combine
to make the history of this part of Mississippi of
absorbing interest, and growing up at the time and place I did, it
is little wonder that it still possesses a charm for me, and that I
love to dwell even now upon it.
From the south boundary line of what is now Claiborne
county, to Natchez, I know every hill and spring and stream, for
twenty-five years of my life, the days of my youth, were spent
midway between Natchez and Port Gibson, and memory often
takes me back to those scenes of my youth. But if I dwell too
long on these things I will never tell my story.
While still an infant my father moved into Jefferson county,
and soon after died. He was James Jefferson Montgomery, son
of Alexander Montgomery, one of the pioneer settlers of the
territory, of whom Claiborne in his history of Mississippi,
makes honorable mention as one of the leading citizens of the
territory and of the state till his death, a few years after its
admission into the Union. My mother was the youngest
daughter of Colonel Cato West, also a pioneer,
who became secretary of the territory under Governor
Claiborne, and for some time the acting governor
when Claiborne went to New Orleans as governor of the
newly-acquired territory of Louisiana.
Colonel West was an intimate acquaintance and friend of
General Jackson, and I have now in my possession a long
autograph letter written to him by General Jackson in the year
1801, devoted to personal matters and politics, and directed
to "Colonel Cato West, Coles Creek, Mississippi Territory."
After my father's death, my
mother went to live on our place on Coles creek, about two
miles from Uniontown, which was at the time still a little village,
and not far from the Maryland settlement, so called because
some of the earliest settlers were from Maryland. The old
highway spoken of ran through our place. Here after
some years my mother married a
Mr. Malloy, a Presbyterian minister, but she died while still a
young woman, and the plantation and negroes then fell to me.
In my early boyhood, and while she lived, I spent much of my
time with my uncle Charles West, near Fayette, in Jefferson
county, and went to school to a Mr. Roland, a Welshman, who
certainly did not spare the rod, or rather the ferule, which was
his favorite instrument of torture. That was the rule in those
days; all teachers whipped their scholars, and indeed parents all
approved it. We live now in a better day, for the best teachers
rarely, if ever, resort to corporal punishment, which only tends
to degrade a child and harden him.
After a few years with Mr. Roland, who was an educated man,
becoming afterwards an Episcopal minister, I was sent to
Oakland College, when about twelve years old, and remained
about five years and till after the death of my mother. Oakland
College deserves more than a passing notice, both because of
the tragedy in the year 1851, when its venerable president was
slain at his own door in open day by a neighbor, and because of
its singular destiny in after years, at least its undreamed of
destiny, by those who founded and supported it. Oakland
College as I first knew it, and before the war between the states
(I have not seen the place since), had an ideal situation for a
college. In the southwestern part of Claiborne county not far
from the line, the nearest town was Rodney, five miles away in
Jefferson county. The cottages in which the students roomed
formed a semi-circle on the crest of the ridge, with the main
college
near the center, and close to this the president's house. In
front was a campus covered with oak trees, and sloping down to
the common boarding-house, and at each end of the semi-circle
the halls of the literary societies, the Belleslettre and the
Adelphic. I belonged to the first. The college was founded
mainly by Mr. David Hunt, of Jefferson county, supposed to be
the wealthiest planter of his time, and the Rev. Dr. Jeremiah
Chamberlain, who was its president. Dr. Chamberlain was an
eminent divine of the Presbyterian Church, and was a most
lovable character. Genial and whole-souled, the boys and young
men all loved as well as respected him. He had also quite a vein
of humor in his nature, and this would crop out at unexpected
times. I remember once when he was hearing a class in rhetoric
or logic, in his lecture to the class he repeated the following
lines, which I at least have never seen in print, but which
though it is more than fifty years ago I have never forgotten:
I don't remember what else was in that lecture, but that
caught me and has staid. It was well known that the doctor was
an ardent Whig of the Henry Clay and Daniel Webster school,
and the boys sometimes took advantage of it to tease him if
they could. I recollect in the campaign when Mr. Polk was the
candidate of the Democrats, I came across a speech made by a
Dr. Duncan, of Ohio, which was a red-hot Democratic speech,
and as my time to declaim before the president and
students was near at hand, I committed some of the most
eloquent parts to memory to speak, counting in advance on the
good doctor's indulgence. I was urged, too, by many boys who
said I was afraid to do it.
It seems that in some parade of the Whigs in some Northern
state they had a banner with this inscription: "We stoop to
conquer." This excited the ire of some poetical Democrat who
wrote a piece with which Dr. Duncan closed his speech. Two
verses I remember yet:
The last verse I gave with all my power, turning to the doctor
and pointing at him. When I got through, he asked me where I
had got the speech, and when I had told him, only said as I had
spoken better than usual, he had not stopped me. In fact,
though a boy, I was myself a Whig, and I did not loose my faith
and hope in that most glorious of all political parties this
country has ever seen, till the election which gave us Mr.
Lincoln and bloody war.
Dr. Chamberlain was not only a Whig, he was an
uncompromising unionist, and to something growing out of
this he owed his death.
At the time, the summer of 1851, during the vacation, I was
married and living on my plantation some twenty miles from the
college.
The compromise measures as they were called, under which I
believe California was admitted to the Union,
had excited a great deal of feeling in the South, higher in
Mississippi and South Carolina than in any other states. The
two senators from Mississippi, the somewhat erratic, but
brilliant, Henry S. Foote, supported the compromise, while Mr.
Jefferson Davis had opposed it in congress. A convention of
the people had been called, and feeling ran high. During the
canvass I heard both those distinguished men, and candor
compels me to say I thought Mr. Foote the superior of Mr.
Davis on the stump. I remember one thing Mr. Davis said which
was applauded both by those who supported him and those
who did not. It was thought by many that South Carolina would
secede then, and Mr. Davis said, if that state did secede and the
Federal government attempted to coerce her, he for one would
shoulder his musket and go to her aid. The sentiment was
loudly applauded, for none in this country at that time denied
the right of a state to secede and set up a government of its
own if its people desired, with or without reason.
Among the members of Dr. Chamberlain's church a wealthy
gentleman living near the college, named Batcheldor, was as
ardent a secessionist as the doctor was a union man. It was
reported to this gentleman by a Mr. Briscoe, himself a
secessionist, that Dr. Chamberlain had said that no man could
be a secessionist and a Christian. They had met by accident in
the town of Rodney, and with other gentlemen were discussing
the all-absorbing topic of the day, when Mr. Briscoe made this
statement, not as I remember as a fact, but as something he had
heard. Without a thought Mr. Batcheldor said to him, "You
may tell the doctor I am a secessionist."
Mr. Briscoe was a member of a prominent family living near
the college, and had to pass through the
college grounds on his way home. He was seen to stop at Dr.
Chamberlain's gate and get off his horse, and the doctor walked
from his porch to his gate, only a few feet away. No one heard
what passed, but the doctor was seen to open the gate and
pass through, and then turn and walk back to his house and, in
the presence of his horrified wife and daughters, saying "I am
killed," fell dead. He had been stabbed to the heart, a heart
whose every impulse in his long and useful life had been for
the good of his fellow-men.
The news spread like wild fire, the prominence of the doctor
and his blameless life, the prominence of the family of the
unfortunate who in a moment of madness without conceivable
motive had slain him, all combined to excite the people to
madness. Hundreds hastened to the college and dire threats of
vengeance were made, but Mr. Briscoe could not be found.
After striking the fatal blow he had mounted his horse and gone
in the direction of his home, and for some five or six days this
was all that was known of him. Then he was found by a negro in
a pasture not far from the house of a relative, a Mr. Harrison, in a
dying condition from poison. He was taken to the house
unconscious and soon died. After the war between the states,
Oakland College was sold to the state and became Alcorn
University, a college for negroes, and is now the Alcorn
Agricultural and Mechanical College, devoted to the education
of that race. Who of its founders or those who supported it, or
the proud young men who filled its halls, could ever have
dreamed of a fate so strange, and to me so sad, for this college,
once the pride of South Mississippi! And yet this change in
Oakland College is a small thing compared to that upheaval and
destruction of southern homes and southern society caused by
that bloody war for the preservation of that Union which Doctor
Chamberlain
and thousands of others in his day loved so well, even
in Mississippi, which a few years later was to be one of the first
of the states of the South to break or try to break the bonds
which bound it to the Union.
The names of Dr. Chamberlain and Mr. Hunt have been
perpetuated in the name of the Chamberlain-Hunt Academy at
Port Gibson, and long may they live, though few perhaps know
of the tragic fate of Dr. Chamberlain or the unostentatious life
of the ante bellum millionaire, Mr. Hunt.
I remained at Oakland College till I had gone through the
junior class, and then the Mexican war having broke out,
though under age, having no one to restrain me, I left the
college to become a soldier. In this hope I was disappointed, as
the result of my efforts will show.
Mexican war--Jefferson
troop--General Thomas Hinds--Natchez
fencibles, Captain Clay--Vicksburg--Mustering officer, General
Duffield--Company rejected--Trip to Jackson--Governor Brown--General
McMackin--Alleghany College, Meadville,
Pennsylvania--Concert--Escaped slave--Copper cents--Skating, sleigh
riding--Militia muster--Home again--Cotton planter of
those days--The negro as he then was--As he is now.
My first effort to be a soldier was to join a cavalry company,
gotten up by Charles Clark, then a lawyer living in Fayette,
Jefferson county. This was a great man, and in another place,
when I shall have occasion to mention him, I will pay a tribute
of love and admiration to his character and services to his
state. Our company was to be called the Jefferson Troop, after
the celebrated company commanded by General Thomas Hinds
in the battle of New Orleans, of whom General Jackson,
speaking of its charge upon the British lilies, said: "It was the
wonder of one army and the admiration of the other." I knew
General Hinds in my boyhood days, and remember him as a fine
old gentleman of the olden time. For him the county of Hinds
was named, and thus his name will live as long as the state
does. After some weeks of drilling, it being found no cavalry
was wanted from Mississippi, we disbanded, and I went to
Natchez and joined a company commanded by a Captain Clay,
and called, I believe, the Natchez Fencibles. Captain Clay took,
as he supposed, a full company to Vicksburg to be mustered
into service. Certainly, as I remember, it was a fine company,
but there was politics in those days as well as
now, for it was charged openly it was due to the desire of the
state administration to keep a place open for a company from
some other part of the state, which was always true to the
Democratic party of the time, that Captain Clay's company was
not mustered in, it being from a staunch Whig county. Anyway
we got to Vicksburg and were assigned quarters in the old
depot building, where, after remaining a few days, we were
brought out by General Duffield, to be, as we supposed,
mustered into service.
I recollect him well as dressed in a gorgeous uniform, with a
cocked hat and waving plume, a long saber by his side, he
strutted along our line. Since that time I have seen "Captain
Jinks, of the Horse Marines," on the stage, and I at once
thought of General Duffield, and when I think of one now the
other comes before me. As he came to me he stopped and asked
how old I was, and when I told him he ordered me out of the
ranks. There was another young fellow of my age in the ranks
whose name was Fauntleroy, and heal so was ordered out; and
having thus reduced the company below the minimum, he
promptly rejected it. We were all indignant, as were many
prominent citizens, and it was decided to go to Jackson and lay
our case before Governor Brown. We succeeded in getting an
engine and some box cars, and got to Jackson late in the
afternoon, but the governor was reported sick and could not be
seen. He had not gone on a distant fishing excursion, as I have
known one governor to do, in order to avoid an unpleasant
interview. We did not get to see him, but we had a high time.
Any number of speeches were made, and it was openly charged
that he was keeping a place for a favored company for political
purposes. There was great excitement and danger of personal
difficulties, but happily these were avoided.
After a while we were taken to supper at a hotel kept by
General McMackin, whom I then saw for the first time. I took
him to be some intoxicated man as he went around crying out
his bill of fare: "The ham and the lamb and the jelly and jam and
blackberry pie, like mama used to make." The reason he gave for
this habit was that when he first opened a hotel in Jackson, so
many members of the legislature could not read, he had to do it
in order to let them know what his bill of fare was. Long after
this when the carpet-baggers, who had swooped down on the
state "like a wolf on the fold," had got full control, I was at a
hotel kept by the General in Vicksburg, the old Prentiss House,
and to my surprise I found bills of fare on the table. He had just
commenced this usual mode of letting his guests know what
there was to eat, but he was still from the force of habit walking
up and down the dining-room calling his bill. As he passed near
me, I called to him and he came at once, for no host was ever
more polite and attentive to his guests. I said to him: "General, I
am sorry to see those bills of fare on your table." "Why, why?"
he said. "Because," I replied, "it would seem to intimate that
you thought the state had become more intelligent under this
carpet-bag rule than it was in the good old days before the war."
In a voice that could be heard all over the dining-room, he
cried: "I'll burn 'em every one up; I'll burn 'em every one up!"
and I believe he did, for I never saw them on his table
afterwards.
We got back to Vicksburg the same night (tired out I slept all
the way back on a pile of muskets), without having seen the
governor, or got any satisfaction as to whether our company
would be received. We staid in Vicksburg a few days, and the
company gradually broke up, some of the men joining other
companies, and
some going home. For myself, I was disgusted and went
home, for I would not join a company where I did not know
either the men or officers.
My guardian advised me to return to college for at least another
year, and this I was willing to do, but I was unwilling to go back
to Oakland College, as I preferred to go north. I did not care
what place so it was in the north. To this he consented,
and at his request I concluded to go to Alleghany College
in Meadville, Pennsylvania. He knew nothing of the college,
except a young man from the north who had taught school for
him and who had kept up a correspondence with him
was then a student at it. Meadville was ninety miles
west of Pittsburg, and the trip from my home in those
days was a long and tedious one. I embarked at Rodney
on a steamboat named the Ringgold, after Major Ringgold
who had been recently killed in the battle of Palo
Alto or Resaca, I forget which, and after a long trip
got to Louisville, there took another boat to Cincinnati, and
then another to Pittsburg, where I took the stage to Meadville,
arriving at that place after an all day and all night ride, a little
before day. My first care after breakfast was to look up my
guardian's friend, whose name was Mills. I found him at the
college and was at once made at home with him. He was some
years older than I was, but he was a fine fellow, and we became
and remained great friends, though he played me a little trick
that night. Except Mills, there was not a human being in the
town I knew, and he I had only seen that morning for the
first time. Meadville had at the time about twenty-five
hundred inhabitants, and had its very exclusive set in society
as I afterwards found out. There was a concert to be given at
the hotel at which I was staying that night. A young man was to
sing, and I proposed to Mills to come and take supper with me and
go with me, and he agreed, but said he knew some young ladies
and proposed we should take them, to which of course I made
no objection.
He introduced me to his friends, two sisters, who I saw at
once were two very respectable girls, as indeed they were, but I
could see were not much accustomed to society. However, I
did not know anything about the people we were to meet at the
concert, so I did not much care.
Neither of the girls was pretty, and both were much older
than I was, but Mills took the youngest and prettiest one and
left me the other. It was a long walk to the hotel and I was very
much bored by my company, but I took care not to show it. I
could see at once from the company assembled that the elite of
the town were there, and that our girls were out of place, and I
felt sorry for them and somewhat ashamed for myself. I don't
think Mills had ever been to an entertainment before, and I
never knew him to be afterwards where ladies were to be
present. How it was he ever became acquainted with these girls
I don't know. Their father owned an apple cider mill and a
distillery, as I found later. I did not desert my charge, but paid
her marked attention, till I had got her safely back home, but
after one formal call for politeness, I never saw her again,
though I remained in Meadville a year.
When I became acquainted as I did with most of the
young ladies who had been at the concert, I was often teased
about my first appearance in society. The singer's name was
Sloan, and he sang well, and for the first time I heard
Napoleon's grave, a fine old song.
I was a young man fresh from a southern state and
had never been north before, but I was treated with extreme
kindness, and before I left had many warm friends.
There was a great deal of curiosity about the south and
about slaves, and I was surprised at the ignorance of those
whom it seemed to me ought to have been better informed,
but there was little travel between that section
of the country and mine. Indeed, I don't remember to have
seen but two men from the south, and one of those was a
relative of my own who came on and joined me after a few
months, and the other a young student from Maryland,
which was called a southern state because it was a slave state.
There were not very many avowed Abolitionists
in town, but they were very bitter. The general feeling
then was that slavery was a matter for the south to deal
with, but if a runaway negro happened to come through the
town, he was helped along by everybody, and sometimes
one did come escaping from Maryland or Virginia.
One came while I was there and advertised to give a lecture.
To everybody's surprise, I did not go, for two reasons:
one that I had no desire to see the negro, and the other
because I was pretty sure the wild young fellows would
raise a row, as actually happened. I was told by some
who went that he was a very ignorant negro. There were
very few of that race in town, some barbers and one
old fellow who said he was an escaped slave from Maryland a
good many years before, were all that I knew anything about.
The latter soon took a liking to me and waited on my room,
though every now and then he would get a little tipsy and tell
me I couldn't whip him like I could in Mississippi. Sometimes I
would pretend to be angry and start towards him when he run,
and once fell downstairs being a little fuller than usual,
and I had to go down and help him up. I reckon the
old fellow liked me chiefly because I was free with my dimes
and quarters, and did not put him off with copper cents.
These copper cents were the old fashioned kind, as big as a half
dollar, and at first when offered me in change I would not take
them; but I soon found that would not do, as they were a very
useful coin in that country and are no doubt to this day; and it
will be a good thing for the south when they come into general
use here. Everything seemed to me to be cheap in that country;
my board with a room to myself, fires, lights and washing
furnished, was only two dollars a week. After the battle of
Buena Vista, where the Mississippi regiment saved the day,
Mississippians were at a premium, and being the only one in
town, I shared in the glory without having been in danger, as I
would have been had Captain Clay's company been received.
At Alleghany College, in Meadville, I found that the
vacation was in the winter for three months, commencing
the first of December, so I was not there long before the
vacation commenced. One reason for this was, as I was
informed, that the young men might teach school in the country
schools at a time when the children could be spared from the
work of the farm to go to school. I was in my room one day
when a farmer came in and introduced himself as the trustee of a
school a few miles away, and desired to engage me to teach it. I
have always regretted I did not take the school. This left me
nothing to do but to frolic, and I soon had friends enough
among the young people to keep me busy at this entertaining, if
not profitable, business. French creek (I believe that is the
name) ran through the town, and when it froze over I got me a
pair of skates--I paid two dollars and a half for them--
and went down to join a crowd and learn this exhilarating
amusement, but after several severe falls I concluded it
would not pay a Mississippi boy to learn, and I gave my skates
away. I got along much better with sleigh riding though
my first ride was disastrous, for the horse ran away
with the cutter and threw my friend, a
young man named Fleury, and myself out and broke the cutter,
for which I had to pay.
What with sleigh rides and dances every week, and
sometimes twice a week, besides other amusements, time did
not drag slowly, but soon brought the opening of the college,
and I devoted myself to it till I concluded to quit and go home.
The arsenal for North-western Pennsylvania was located at
Meadville, and while I was there a muster of the militia was
had, and all the students attended, of course. There were
hundreds of country people, and the natural result
followed, a number of fights between the students
and those people, in which no greater damage was done
than black eyes or bloody noses. I carried the
signs of the battle for some days myself.
Next door to my boarding house lived a Dr. Yates,
whose wife was a sister of James Buchanan, then the secretary
of the navy, I believe, and afterwards president of the
United States. The doctor had a very pretty daughter,
who married a young man, a friend of mine, named Dunham,
and I was a frequent visitor at their house, as I had also
made the acquaintance of the doctor's son, a midshipman,
who was at home a good deal on leave.
When the civil war broke out I always looked to see if this
young man ever arose to any distinction, but I never saw his
name mentioned; perhaps he died before the war.
I spent a year in Meadville, but I can't dwell on that time,
pleasant as is the retrospect.
I returned to my home and, with the consent of my guardian,
went at once to live on my plantation, which was under the
care of an overseer. I wished to learn the duties
of my station, and fully made up my mind to spend my life as
a cotton planter. I think looking back
to that olden time the most delightful existence, and the most
iudependent a gentleman could have.
The highest ambition of all men in the south at that time, so
far as occupation was concerned, was to be a planter, and to
spend the most if not all his time on his plantation. For this, the
merchant invested his profits, the lawyer his earnings, and
indeed everybody saved all he could to attain to this ideal life.
The planter living upon his own lands, surrounded by his
slaves, a happy and childlike race in that day, dispensed a broad
and generous hospitality; no one was ever turned from his door.
For even the lowliest a place was found. His neighbors were
everybody within a day's ride from his home, and frequent visits
were made, the planter mounted on his splendid saddle horse,
his favorite mode of travel, and his wife and children in the
carriage. He was a proud man, proud of his wife and children,
proud of his plantation and slaves, proud of his stainless honor,
and ready to exact or give satisfaction for wrongs fancied or
real, suffered or done, not by the deadly pistol concealed in the
hip pocket, but by a meeting upon the field of honor, with
mutual friends to see fair play. These were the halcyon days of
the south, gone never to return, but the stories of those days,
the sacred traditions, have preserved, and will, I hope, continue
to preserve the same spirit in the descendants of those noble
men, and keep them pure in race and upright and honorable. In
this lies the hope of the south to-day. But what pen can do
justice to southern society as it was before the war, its wide
influence for good all over the land; mine cannot. I speak of a
class and not of individuals, for there were rare exceptions who
were coarse and rude, as there are to-day men who, forgetting
the traditions of the past, destitute of gratitude and honor,
flaunt themselves in
high places, scheming only how best they may deceive
the credulous and achieve their ends.
I have said that the negro of that day was a happy and child-like
creature. He had no wants not willingly supplied; he had
no care; his day's work done, he slept secure. Crime was
literally unknown to him. The planter left his wife and children
on his place surrounded by his slaves; sure that they were
safe from harm.
Now, what is his condition? I speak not of a few bright
exceptions. Ask the jails, the penitentiaries, the lunatic
asylums, which are filled not from the ranks of the old slaves,
but their sons and daughters. No white man will
now leave his family on his place, surrounded by
negroes alone, and often when I have been on the bench, I have
been constrained to excuse jurors for this reason.
Insanity was as unknown among negroes before the war as
homicides; each was extremely rare. I don't remember in those
days but one really crazy negro, though there were
occasionally idiots, and though we have now two large
asylums, the jails are filled with those who cannot be
received. The homicides now committed by negroes upon each
other constitute the most frightful chapter in the history of
crime ever known among any people. This is easy to prove.
What is to be his ultimate destiny, no man can tell,
but his only hope at last is in the white people of the south.
I take no account of the comparatively few negroes
in the north, nor do I here speak of the negro in politics.
This will come later.
Railroads--Shinplasters--Customs of the times--Barbecues--Camp
meetings--Militia drills--Shooting matches--Music of the times--The
preacher and the robber--Indians--S. S. Prentiss--Dueling.
Before I proceed with
my story, I must pause to indulge
in some reminiscences of that far away time when I was a
boy in Jefferson county, and give some account of the manners
and customs of the people and of their amusements, and this
chapter may be taken by way of parenthesis. There were in
those days no railroads, the first in the state being the short
line from Jackson to Vicksburg, over which I made my memorable
trip to interview Governor Brown. One other was projected north
from Natchez, and was actually finished for some seven or eight
miles, but this fell through for want of funds. It had a bank, too, I
remember, for those were the days of shinplasters as the paper
money of the numerous banks in the state was then called. The
mode of travel for gentlemen was on horseback; for ladies, on
horseback or in carriages.
The first thing when a gentleman arrived on a visit, if it were
not before eleven o'clock, was to invite him to the sideboard to
take a drink. This was the universal custom except at the homes
of preachers or very strict members of the Methodist Church,
and intoxication was rare except at barbecues or assemblies to
hear speeches when politics ran high. The old fashioned
barbecue of that time has passed away, for those we have
now-a-days are unlike them in many particulars.
The men did not go to them loaded down with pistols, for the
deadly hip pocket was not then invented, and the pistol of the
day, with its long barrel and ugly flintlock, was too troublesome
to be carried. If arms were carried, and this was rare, it was the
bowie knife or dirk, and no body ever got hurt except the
combatants. Fights were common on those occasions, but they
were almost always fisticuffs, a word and a blow. There was
always a dance on the ground, and at night an adjournment to
the nearest house, when daylight put an end to it the next
morning. The music was the fiddle, played usually by a negro
and such music! old men forgot their age to join in the dance,
for it was almost impossible to hear it and keep still. It makes me
young again to think of it; not the long-drawn-out music of
these days, but such soul-stirring, heel-rocking tunes as
"Arkansaw Traveler," "Mississippi Sawyer," "Sugar in the Gourd,"
"Jennie, put the Kittle on," "Nigger in the Woodpile,"
"Natchez under the Hill," and others too numerous to mention.
Almost every plantation had its negro fiddler as well as
negro preacher, usually the biggest scamp on the place,
and the happy darkeys would dance to the one and shout to the other
some times the livelong night. The planter and his family
often went to look on.
Those were the days also of militia drills and of shooting
matches, usually following the drill. Everybody between
eighteen and forty-five was required to attend and bring his
gun and such a motley crowd and such an assortment of arms
can never be seen again.
But those were happy
days, for if the daily paper could not
be had the good people never felt its loss, for they knew
nothing of it. In these days we can't live without it, for we must
hear the news from all the world every day, and twice a day if
we live where we can get an evening paper.
The shooting matches were trials of skill with the long rifle,
sometimes at the head of a turkey and sometimes at a small
mark for beef, and there were many who could rival the skill of
the Leather-stocking.
Camp meetings were another feature of those days, which
have passed away before the advancing civilization of the
times; for if one is held now, I am told, a restaurant is attached
where meals are sold. In the days I speak of a shady grove was
selected near a good spring, and the well-to-do members of the
church--Methodist--for camp meetings, as far as I know, was
a distinct feature of that church, though preachers of other
denominations often helped--would build rude but comfortable
shanties, each large enough to accommodate from twenty to
sometimes forty guests, and to this the owner would move his
whole family and his house servants and keep open house with
old fashioned hospitality.
And then the preaching. With power and zeal sinners were
warned to repentance, and a vivid imagination could almost see
the fiery billows as they enveloped the hopeless, doomed ones
who cried too late for mercy where mercy never came. One
sermon I remember by the Rev. B. M. Drake, the father of a
prominent lawyer now living in Port Gibson. A man of stately
presence, his text was: "Hear, oh heavens, give ear, oh earth, for
the Lord hath spoken: I have nourished and brought up
children, and they have rebelled against me; the ox knoweth his
owner and the ass his master's crib, but Israel doth not know,
my people doth not consider." Conceive the effect which a
sermon from this sublime text from the prophecies of the royal
prophet would have upon a congregation already wrought up
to the highest pitch of religious fervor by prayers and hymns,
when the preacher was eloquent and full of zeal for the
salvation of the souls of those who
heard him, and which he firmly believed would be lost forever
if they did not repent.
The pioneer Methodist preachers in that territory were an
interesting class. Some I recall--the Rev. John G. Jones, whose
adventures when he was a young man were thrilling to hear;
and another, the Rev. Mr. Cotton, who, when I was a boy, was
often at our house; and I heard him tell of his adventure with a
robber, a story which Mr. Shields, in his Life of Prentiss, tells, I
believe, but a little differently from the way I had it from Mr.
Cotton. He was riding along a lonely road, when suddenly a
man with a gun stepped from behind a tree, and ordered him to
halt. He then made him ride into the woods, and demanded his
money. He was like the apostle, for "silver and gold" he had
none. The robber, enraged, told him to dismount, as he
intended to kill him. Mr. Cotton asked leave to pray before
being put to death, and it was granted him. He kneeled down by
the side of a log, and, with closed eyes, prayed fervently for his
own reception into heaven, for the salvation of the world, and,
above all, for the pardon and salvation of the sinful man who
was about to imbrue his hands in his blood. When, at last, he
had finished, he arose, and, lo! the robber had gone. But, I
might fill pages with stories of that time without ever finishing
my own.
These were the days, also, of quilting bees, and each house
had its frame; the wealthiest as well as the poorest planter's
wife would save her scraps and sew them into squares, stars
and diamonds, until enough were gotten to make a quilt, and
then the neighboring ladies would come and gather round the
frame while the busy needles flew, and the busy tongues kept
time till the work was done. This was a source of great pleasure
and amusement to the married ladies, nor were the negro
seamstresses, of which there were always one or more on each
plantation, permitted to aid in this work. Now and then, in these
days, one of these old patch-work quilts may be found, a relic of
other days, but then piles of them were in every house. Sewing
machines were not even dreamed of; indeed, long after this,
when my wife began to talk of getting a machine, I laughed at
the idea, for I did not believe one could be made which would
work. In those days, too, cooking stoves were unknown in the
south; it was not until I had been married seven or eight years
that I would consent to buy one. The kitchen was never in the
house, always at a distance from it, and the fireplace, a huge
affair, with an iron crane to hang the pots over the fire in which
boiling was done, while upon a great wide hearth the coals
would be raked out, upon which the skillets were put to do the
baking, while heaps of coal were put on their lids. These were
the days of hoe cakes, ash cakes and Johnnie cakes, and no
such cooking has ever been done since, and it makes my mouth
water now to think of it. But, good-bye to those good old times,
though memory still often brings them back.
In my earliest recollection, there were a good many Indians
still to be seen in the country; these belonged to the Choctaws,
for the brave but ill-fated Natchez had disappeared from the face
of the earth. They made their last stand on a place known,
perhaps, yet as Cicily Island in what is now Louisiana, not far
from Natchez, and the few who were not killed or captured were
dispersed and lost forever as a tribe. It has been said that the
dead Indian is the only good Indian, and it may be so. But their
story is a melancholy one, and it is a pity a better fate was not
reserved for them. They had the vices of the barbarian, but they
had virtues which none of the other barbarous races ever had.
The Indians I knew were a peaceful people, the women making
baskets from cane and the men subsisting by hunting and
making
and selling to the white boys blow-guns, a favorite weapon
with the boys to shoot birds with in those times.
While I was still a small boy, the great Prentiss was often in
the county, sometimes attending the courts and sometimes
speaking at the political barbecues.
I remember to have heard him in two of his great speeches,
noticed specially by his biographer, Shields. One was near
Natchez and the other was at Rodney. I was too young to
appreciate his arguments, but I remember well the words
seemed to flow from his lips in a torrent and with what
enthusiasm they were received by his audience, and his face
and figure still dwell in my memory. He was a wonderful man,
an unrivaled orator.
Coming from the land "of steady habits" to Mississippi, he
became in a little while a typical Mississippian of the olden time,
when that name implied all that was honorable and true. After I
grew up and became acquainted with the life and writings of
Byron, I always associated the two together, for each had the
same lameness, and to this physical likeness there were many
things in their temperaments which were alike. Each died in his
prime. The name of Prentiss occurred to me here as I
remembered another custom of that time among gentlemen, an
"imperious custom," as it was called by a noted divine in his
eloquent funeral sermon at the burial of Alexander Hamilton,
who had fallen in his duel with Aaron Burr--the custom of
dueling.
Mr. Prentiss fought two duels with Henry S. Foote, but it is
no part of my plan to give an account of these duels, but only
to mention the fact that in those days no man who had any
regard for his honor or character could refuse to fight if insulted
or if he had insulted another. The custom is just as "imperious"
now as it was then, for while the laws condemn it, yet public
sentiment will
condemn any man in public life, or whose business or
profession makes him prominent, who dares to refuse, to
demand, or give satisfaction on the field of honor in those
cases where custom has made it proper, if not imperative. But I
must leave those old times and hasten on.
Marriage--Move to Bolivar county--Old town of Napoleon--The
hunter--Money--State banks--Overflows and levees--
Battle of Armageddon--John Brown's raid--Effect in the south--
Election of Mr. Lincoln.
On the 12th day of January, 1848 when I was but little past
eighteen and my wife not quite that age, I
was married to Miss Charlotte Clark, or, as she was always
affectionately called, Lottie Clark. She was the daughter of
James Clark, who had when she was an infant
moved from Lebanon, Ohio, where she was born, and a
sister of General Charles Clark. We had been
sweethearts as long as I could remember, and she also had just
returned from school at Georgetown in the District of Columbia,
having while there made her home with an uncle living in
Washington City. The family were Marylanders, having
originally come over with or as a part of Lord
Baltimore's colony, and her father had been born
in Maryland, moving when a young man into Ohio, where he
lived till he was induced by his son Charles, who had
preceded him some years, to move his whole family to
Mississippi, becoming a cotton planter. He was not a large
planter, but he prided himself on the knowledge
he had acquired of the business, and especially on
the cultivation of his crop, which was always clean.
He took special care in the neatness with which his
cotton was handled in preparing it for market, and it always
brought the highest market price. After I was married I was
riding one day with him through his field and to my surprise he
said it had
always seemed singular to him that there were red and white
blooms on the same stalk. I explained it to him; but the fact was
he had always been puzzled over it, but would not inquire.
Peace to his ashes; he was a good man and lived to a good old
age.
We were young to marry, I especially, but I had for some
years been my own master; no objection was made by any
one, I had a home prepared to go to and ample support assured,
and I took my bride to our home. Our house was large and old
fashioned, but comfortable, and it was our delight to fill it with
young people and have the fiddler from the quarter, as the place
where the negroes lived was called, almost every night, though
on set occasions we would have the music from the towns,
Fayette, Rodney, and sometimes Natchez. In those days we
knew no care, but were as light hearted as our negroes who
loved to crowd around the doors and windows of the great
house, as they called the residence in which their owner lived, to
see the fun. I usually kept an overseer, as most planters did, and
had ample time for amusements and reading, of which I was
always fond. I read everything, novels, history and that
wonderful book the Bible, of which I have been a student all my
life. I read also the usual text-books on law, though at the time I
little thought I would ever put this to any use. I had a good
library for the time, of books now out of print, if not also entirely
useless, at least many of them, in these days. My wife always
had her hands full, for what with company, the care of her
household affairs, and the looking after a half dozen servants
and more on extraordinary occasions, about which there was
often a dispute if the crop was in the grass, to which was soon
added the care of a family, her time was fully occupied. And so
we passed the days happy when we lived in Jefferson county.
We lived on our plantation in that county for seven years,
when I sold the lands I owned in that county and in Hinds and
moved to Bolivar county to a plantation I had bought and partly
improved a year before. I had been largely influenced to this
move by my brother-in-law and friend General Clark, who,
having given up the practice of law in Jefferson county, had
already moved his family to a plantation he owned on the banks
of the river, not far above the old town of Napoleon, a live town
in those days, too much so for quiet people. It was the port at
which almost all the boats which plied their trade on the White
and Arkansas rivers made and received transhipments of freight,
and there was always a large and tough floating population. I
remember a curious adventure I had on one occasion. I had gone
there to get a boat to go down the river, as boats always landed
there, while it was not always easy to get one to land at other
places. I had to wait all day as it happened, and in one of my
walks from the tavern to the wharfboat, where I could see a long
way up the river, I met a man I had previously seen come into
town with a cart loaded with venison. There was no one near, it
being some distance either to the town or to the wharfboat. This
man was in his shirt sleeves and bloody from his occupation and
was talking to himself. He was a tough-looking customer and I
proposed to give him a wide berth, but seeing me he came
directly to me. He had in his hand a five dollar bill and he asked
me to tell him whether it was, good money or not. He said he had
just sold a venison to a steamboat which was at the landing and
got it in payment. It was a bill of some bank in one of the
northwestern states (for every state had its own banking
system), and as I had never heard of the bank I told him I did not
know.
All along the river the country was flooded so to speak
with bills from Ohio, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee,
and states too numerous to mention. No man could tell not only
whether the bills were genuine or not, but whether they were
worth a copper if they were genuine. Mississippi alone had no
banks of issue, the days of the shinplasters had cured that
state. Some of the banks of Memphis, Tennessee, were
supposed to be good and the bills were taken freely. The banks
of New Orleans were always solvent up to the war, and was the
only paper money which every body in this country would take
without question.
I politely excused myself to the man and desired to pass on,
but he would not let me go till I had heard him through, which
was his life from the time he was a little boy when his father
married a second time, when he quarreled with his stepmother
and ran away, to that time. He told me of his success as a hunter,
how much he made and was in the highest degree confidential,
that he intended soon to quit his business and go back to his old
home in Tennessee, join the church and be always a good man. I
did not know whether the man was crazy or drunk, but in either
case thought it best to humor him. At last he admitted my
excuses and permitted me to go, but he had evidently taken a
strong fancy to me for he wanted to know if I wanted any money.
I told him no, but he insisted, and pulling out an old buckskin
purse full of gold, evidently several hundred dollars, told me to
take what I wanted. The strange thing about it was, that in a
town like Napoleon then was, a man seemingly so free with his
money should have had any at all. I got away from him and
though I noticed him afterwards on the street I kept out of his
way. Not a vestige remains now of the old town of Napoleon, the
insatiable river has long since swept it away. The county of
Bolivar when I came to it, in January 1855, was an unknown
wilderness
save a few plantations on lake Bolivar and Egypt ridge,
so called because in the high water of 1844 it was not
overflowed, and a great deal of corn was made on it, and
save also a few plantations along the bank of the river.
These plantations were all partly protected by small private
levees, for the entire country was annually inundated by
floods which came down the river every spring, thus
showing the absurdity of the idea some have that the great
overflows we sometimes have are due to the levees. The truth is,
this magnificent country is worthless without protection from
levees, and while we have not yet perhaps complete protection,
yet it is now settled that before many years have passed the
great government of the United States will assume control of the
work and protect the country. Already we have received and do
receive great aid through the river commission, and it is certain
that this is largely due to the persistent and untiring energy, zeal
and tact of one man, the Hon. Thomas C. Catchings, for so many
years the member of congress from the district where the levees
are situated.
When General Catchings first became a candidate for
congress the vote of the district was largely, in fact, a majority,
a negro vote, for we had then no franchise law as now,
which to a great extent curbs and curtails the ignorant
vote. I recollect in the first speech he made in Rosedale in his
first canvass, and when his audience was mostly composed of
negroes, in speaking of what he hoped to do for the levees,
his opponent being a negro, he told them that much
of the success which a member of congress could hope to
achieve would be due to his social standing with other
members; and this is true, for no matter how able a
member might be, his social qualities, his ability to make friends,
his tact, were sure to accomplish more than all the speeches he
would make, no
matter how eloquent he might be; and these qualities General
Catchings possesses in an eminent degree, and though
experience has shown that he is a man of ability, and well able
to hold his own in debate, yet his success is no doubt largely
due to them.
When I came to Bolivar the levee system was in its infancy; each
county had its own system, and this in Bolivar had just been put in
operation, and levee building had just begun, and has continued till
now, and I suppose must continue for some time, because it is
admitted that the levees are not yet high and strong enough
to control the mighty floods which sometimes sweep
down the great river. Under the protection of the levees,
imperfect as it yet is, the wilderness to which I came in 1855, has
now, in the year 1900 been made to "blossom as the rose,"
railroads traverse the county, and towns, and villages have
sprung up everywhere. We settled on our place on the river
below Napoleon, and lived there for three years, and which
during that time I greatly improved, but was then tempted by a
big price and sold the land to a gentleman from South Carolina.
About that time there was a great demand for the fertile lands of
the Delta by planters from all parts of the south. I bought
immediately another tract of land on the river, where the town of
Beulah is now situated. The town takes its name from the name I
gave my landing. This place I handsomely improved with a fixed
purpose of making it my home as long as I lived; but this hope
was not to be realized. The time was fast approaching when
devastating war was to overshadow the land, and when the torch
of an enemy was to be applied to every house upon the place,
except one insignificant shanty.
I remember to have read a few years before the war a book
which created some talk, called "Armageddon,"
written by a Methodist preacher named Baldwin. This book
purported to be an exposition of the United States in prophecy.
He attempted to show from the ancient prophecies that the
United States was to be engaged in war with a great northern
power, which he said was Russia, and that the battle-ground
was to be in the valley of the Mississippi. The country to be
invaded was a country of unwalled villages, a term that
certainly applied with great force to the south of that day,
for every plantation was a village. I could not but smile at the
thought of a hostile force, even if the country was ever to be at war
with a great nation, ever penetrating to my peaceful home, five
hundred miles from the coast, and yet a great northern power was in a
few years to sweep over the south as with a besom of destruction. Was
Baldwin a prophet, or was the great war between the states indeed
foretold in ancient scriptures, but not fully understood by Baldwin
when he wrote the book? I have the book yet, I think, but have mislaid
it and cannot find it; but certain it is that he published the book
some five or six years before the war commenced, and in it he said
the United States was to be engaged in the war, and that it
would commence in about 1861. I hope before I finish this to
find the book and correct this statement if I am wrong. He died
before the war as I remember, as was reported in the papers,
and had been described to me by one who knew him as a
strange and peculiar character,
indeed thought by some to be deranged.
Until the John Brown raid I had never for a moment lost my
loyalty to the union, but after that I became a secessionist; not
because of the attempt of this fanatic to bring on a war between
the races in the south, these things were to be expected, and
were to be met and defeated as was done in his case. But the
manner in which his death was received in the north, for he was
looked
upon as a martyr to the cause of freedom and was almost
deified by many, convinced me as it did thousands of other
union men in the state, that if our liberties were to be preserved
and the rights of the states held sacred, we must endeavor to
defend them out of and not in the union.
The election of Mr. Lincoln by the votes of the northern states,
in the minds of most people in the south, settled the question that
safety could no longer be found in the union, and all began to
prepare for secession. I believe Mr. Lincoln to have been a good
man, and I think the course of events proved him to be a great man,
and I am sure if there had been no secession that there would have
been no interference by him, or with his consent, with the rights of
the southern states. But he was undeniably a sectional candidate
and elected upon a sectional issue, and this, in my opinion then,
and in my opinion now, fully justified the southern states in
secession, if as was claimed and believed by almost every one in
the south, this right existed under the constitution which bound
all the states together. Much has been said and written, both before
and after the war, on this question, and it remains unsettled to-day,
for the constitutional question was not settled by the war; the only
thing settled was that we of the south did not have the power to
exercise the right if it did exist, nor the power to win our
independence in a revolution, which right is acknowledged always
to be with all people when they think their liberties or rights are in
danger, of which they, and they alone, must be the judges. I do not
think Mr. Lincoln ought to be blamed in the south for the course he
took, for he could not do otherwise, and as for the south, no other
course with honor was left than to secede and leave the result
to the God of battles, if war should come, which most doubted
and few wanted.
Excitement--Elections
before the war--Formation of companies--Bolivar troop--Secession of the
state--Mississippi a nation--Army and custom houses--General Charles
Clark--Anecdote.
I am not writing a history of the state, or of the war, though
perhaps it may be a little of both, at least as far as I
was personally concerned in events that occurred in the
state, or in the army, of which, to some extent, I was a part.
Hence, I have passed rapidly by many matters of interest in the
history of the state to the time when I became a resident of
Bolivar county, even touching lightly on the exciting campaign
of 1851, in which the issue even then was secession or union,
though secession was not openly advocated or avowed, except by a
few extremists. I was deeply interested in this, though
too young to take a very active part for I had not long become of
age. I was then a unionist, and voted for General Clark, who was
the union candidate for the convention which had been called,
and afterwards for Mr. Foote, who, though a Democrat, was the
union candidate for governor, and was supported generally by
the Whigs. But the time had now come when I was to take an
active part in public matters, and in an election held in the fall of
1855 I was elected a member of the board of police (now
supervisors) and its president, which office I held till the
secession of the state, when other and more exciting duties
devolved upon me. I recollect in this election less than ninety
votes were cast, and it was the full vote of the county. Less than
fifteen years afterwards, nearly or quite four thousand votes
were cast in the
county, a surprising change and a sad and humiliating one to
the proud men who now looked on in utter helplessness, while
their emancipated slaves crowded them from the polls. Elections
before the war were simple affairs to what they have since
become in Mississippi. In the election of county officers,
politics was unknown; Whigs and Democrats ran as they
pleased, and were voted for without regard to their politics. The
same was true of judges, who were then elective. Only in the
election of state officers, members of the legislature, congress
and in presidential elections was the line drawn. The river
counties of the state, and most, if not all, of the large
slave-holding counties, were Whigs; the others, Democrats. In
general elections, the Whig counties would be first heard from,
and the Whigs be often sanguine of success; but wait, the
Democrats would say, till you hear from Tishomingo; and, sure
enough, the Whigs would nearly always be beaten.
As soon as the result of the presidential election of 1860 was
known, Governor Pettus called the legislature together, and that
body at once called a convention. Excitement ran high, and
General Clark, now an open and avowed secessionist, was a
candidate for the convention, his opponent being Mr. Miles H.
McGenhee. There was only one question in the canvas,
whether there should be separate state action or whether the
State of Mississippi should await the action of other southern
states, for all were agreed that the time for decisive action had
come. On this issue, General Clark, who was for separate action,
was defeated, but the convention, when it met, was
overwhelmingly his way, and every school boy now knows the
result.
All over the state military companies were formed, and in
Bolivar a splendid cavalry company, called the Bolivar troop,
was organized, General Clark being the captain,
and I the 1st lieutenant. Our captain alone knew anything about
drilling the company, for he had served in the Mexican war as
colonel of the Second Mississippi regiment. He was away a
great deal, and the work devolved on me. I applied myself with
zeal to my new duties, bought books on military tactics, and
was soon able to put up a pretty good drill. Later, when the
state had seceded, the company was reorganized as a part of
the army of Mississippi, and I was elected and commissioned
its captain. It is a fact overlooked, or, at least, not noticed, as far
as I have seen, that Mississippi enjoyed for a time the honor
and distinction of being an independent nation. She dissolved
her connection with the union on the 9th of January, 1861, and
formed no new ties till she entered the Southern Confederacy
by the act of a convention of delegates from the state and other
southern states at Montgomery, Alabama, in February, 1861.
She had her own army, commanded for a short time by
Major-General Jefferson Davis, with four brigadier generals,
Earl Van Dorn, Charles Clark, J. L. Alcorn and C. H.
Mott. She also established a custom house at Commerce on
the river below Memphis; perhaps in other places which I do
not recall. All of these great men are gone, Mott being killed
early in the war. The life of Mr. Davis is known of all men; of
Generals Van Dorn and Alcorn, I will speak in other places,
but will here give a brief sketch of the life and services
of that distinguished citizen Charles Clark.
Elsewhere I have said he was a great man, and so he
was held by all who knew him. Of an indomitable will,
with a courage which never quailed, with an intellectual
capacity of the highest order, trained and polished, but always
subservient to his will, and with a devotion to his state
which was absolutely unselfish, no truer patriot
ever lived and no more gallant soldier ever drew
his sword. He was born in Cincinnati, Ohio, of, as I have said
elsewhere, an ancestry which came from Maryland, and came
to the State of Mississippi when a very young man, teaching
school at first, but reading law at the same time. As soon as he
received his license, he opened an office in Fayette, and rose at
once to the front ranks of his profession, the cotemporary and
equal of the great lawyers of that day. He served in the
legislature both from Jefferson county and afterwards from
Bolivar.
He was colonel of the Second Mississippi regiment in
Mexico, and though the regiment was never in action, he
returned with the reputation of being a thorough soldier. He
was early appointed by Mr. Davis a brigadier-general in the
Confederate army, and commanded a division in the battle of
Shiloh, where he was wounded in the shoulder, carrying the
bullet with him to the grave. He also commanded a division at
the battle of Baton Rouge. In this battle he received the wound
which confined him to his bed for many months, and from which
he never recovered. He has often told me that both he and
General Breckenridge, who commanded in the battle,
disapproved of the attack at Baton Rouge, believing the place
untenable, if the assault were successful, but it was ordered and
a soldier must obey. General Clark was left on the field too
desperately wounded to be moved. He was carried into the city
by the federals, and at his request was placed on a boat and
sent to New Orleans, where he could have the services of his
old friend, Dr. Stone, an eminent surgeon of that day. His wife
was permitted to go to him, and under their joint care in a few
months he was exchanged and able to return to Mississippi,
though it was long before he was able to walk even on
crutches; indeed, as long as he lived he had to use one at least.
At the election of 1863, he was elected governor, and this trying
position he held till
forced by federal bayonets to yield. He was literally ejected from
his office by force, refusing to give it up on demand, for he said
he had received it from the people of the state and to them alone
would he surrender it. General T. J. Wharton, not long since
gone to his reward, then the attorney-general of the state, has
often described to me the scene when the federals marched into
the office, and the old hero, tall and commanding even on his
crutches, stood in the door and denounced the outrage, as one
worthy a painter's highest skill. He was taken to Fort Pulaski and
there confined with other distinguished southerners, but was
finally permitted to return home. He resumed the practice of his
profession, and continued in the quiet pursuits of private life till
the summer of 1875, when he took an active part in the
redemption of the state from the blighting effects of carpet bag
rule. The people of the state had almost lost hope, but gathering
courage from despair, a tax-payers' convention was called and
held in Jackson the summer of that year, and General Clark, a
delegate from Bolivar, was elected chairman. This was the
entering wedge; the people then rose in their might and white
supremacy was restored forever in the state by the election of
that year. General Clark was then appointed chancellor of his
district, and held this office till his death about two years later.
It was my privilege to be with him in his last hours, for it is a
privilege to see a brave and good man die. He could not speak
when I arrived at his house, but his clear, bright eyes showed
the conscious soul within, and as he turned them on me, I would
have given worlds if he could then have spoken. He sleeps his
last sleep on a high mound, built by some ancient and long
forgotten race, but as long as the history of the state is read,
his name and fame will live.
Two or three years after the war had ended he had
occasion to visit Natchez and was accompanied by his son-in-law,
Major W. E. Montgomery. They took passage on a
Cincinnati boat. Among the passengers happened to be a
gentleman who had been a federal officer, and in the battle of
Baton Rouge. This gentleman and General Clark soon became
known to each other, and were talking about that battle when
some northern man on the boat who had been imbibing too
freely interrupted them by contradicting a statement the General
made in a very insulting manner, saying, "old man, that aint true."
The General then could walk with one crutch and a cane, a
heavy lignum vitae, and he rose suddenly to his feet and before
the fellow could get out of reach brought the cane down on his
head with such force as to shiver it, and for a while render him
senseless. There was great excitement for a time, but it was
generally agreed that the punishment was well deserved, and
the rest of the trip was pursued in peace. I have this account
from Major Montgomery who saw it. Some years later there was
a sequel to it. In the summer of 1876, Gen. Clark paid a visit to a
daughter then living in California, and on return changed cars, I
believe, at Omaha. After he had got his seat and made himself
comfortable on the sleeper, the conductor told him he must
change his seat, which he refused to do. The conductor got
angry and insulting, and said he would make him do it, and went
off to get the help. The negro porter on the car who had been
looking on, now came up and asked him if he were not Governor
Clark of Mississippi. The General was a good deal surprised, but
told him he was, whereupon the porter told him that he was a
porter on the steamboat, when he knocked the man down and
remembered him. The porter then went off in search of the
conductor and told him what he knew, and he was not further
disturbed but was kindly treated, especially by the porter who
could not do
too much for him. I asked the General when he told me the
incident, what he would have done if the conductor had tried to
put his threat into execution, and he said he would have made
the best fight he could with his crutches; he had them both on
this trip, and no cane, and of course carried no arms. He
certainly would have made the fight if it had cost him his life.
Trip to New Orleans--Company in camp--An old soldier's
popularity and final fate--Take company to Memphis--
Roster of company--General Pillow--General William T.
Martin--Anecdote--Whether negro or white man--Life
dependent on the question--Ordered to Union City.
My company was for the times well armed, the arms
furnished by the state. We had sabers, Colt's revolvers, and
Maynard rifles, a breech-loading gun with a metal cartridge.
Each man furnished his own horse, and it was splendidly
mounted. I wanted only tents, for I was anxious to get the men
into camp and learn some of the practical duties of soldier life.
The state did not have them to spare, but there was no lack of
means to buy them; for besides that many of the officers and
men were well to do, the board of police gave us five thousand
dollars, for which it must be confessed they had no warrant, but
they had the money and everybody approved it. While the
state was still a nation, in the month of January I went to New
Orleans to see if I could get tents, and on this trip my wife went
with me. When we got to Vicksburg she for a time wished she
had stayed at home, for it looked warlike indeed. As our boat
got in front of the city a cannon was fired across the bows,
perhaps two, to gently remind us that the state authorities
desired to know what we were after in that part of the river. The
boat was going to land any way, and the powder had as well
have been saved for more urgent need in the days which were
to come. This gun, as I learned afterwards, was under
the command of Colonel Horace Miller, as he afterwards
became, a gentleman I knew well and esteemed highly. We got
to New Orleans without further interruption. I got my tents, and
very fine ones, by the aid of that splendid gentleman and
afterwards gallant soldier, General Wirt Adams, who was a
banker in Vicksburg and also, I believe, was in business in New
Orleans. My funds were deposited with him, and he finally got
me the tents. While there I found and bought handsome
officers sabers for myself and lieutenants, and later on in this
story I will tell what became of mine. I also got handsome
cavalry saddles for myself and officers, but could not get them
for the men.
When I got my tents home I at once ordered the company
into camp, and they came promptly. But an amusing difficulty
presented itself: none of us had ever pitched a tent, except one
man, and he had not yet come. He was not long, however, and
when he came soon set us all straight. His name was Milford
Coe, and he had been a member of the second Mississippi
regiment in Mexico, hence knew something about army camp
life. He was at the time an overseer in the county, and was very
well liked by those who knew him. His knowledge of camp life
made him for a time very popular, but after he had been in
service a few months he was so much disliked that I procured a
discharge for him. He returned home, and early in the next year
located himself on Island Seventy-Six, opposite the town of
Bolivar, and gathered around him a gang of desperadoes,
negroes and whites, and began systematically to prey upon the
people on the main land, who finally organized a force, and,
after capturing him, brought him over and shot him to death in a
cane brake, where his bones were left to bleach, a well deserved
fate. I kept my men in camp, in fact, never broke it, till I finally
got away. Meantime
events were rapidly drawing to a crisis between the United
States and the young confederacy, and the hope of peace
which many had entertained was being fast dispelled. Some
infantry regiments had been organized and were ordered to
Pensacola and to Charleston, where General Beauregard was in
command, and where it was supposed the first collisions would
occnr.
My men were getting impatient to be away, and I was myself,
for about that time some business took me to Jackson, and
while there several companies passed through on their way to
Pensacola, and it was all I could do under the excitement, and
the influence of the inspiring music of the fife and drum (to me
yet the most exciting music in the world), to refrain from getting
on the cars and going with them. I sent Lieutenant Bell, of my
company, to Montgomery to see if I could get the company
ordered into service, but the authorities were not yet ready to
receive cavalry. Lieutenant Bell was a nephew of John Bell, the
last Whig candidate for president, which great party was lost
and destroyed forever in the great campaign of 1860.
Meantime war had actually commenced by the reduction of Fort
Sumter and the call by Mr. Lincoln for seventy-five thousand
volunteers. The capital of the confederacy had been moved to
Richmond, and many troops were being hurried to that place,
but still there was no special demand for cavalry. The State of
Tennessee had seceded and was raising an army, though it had
not yet joined the confederacy. General Gideon J. Pillow was
placed in command of it, and had his headquarters in Memphis.
I went to see him and offered him my company with the
understanding, when the army of Tennessee was turned over to
the confederacy, it should be distinctly recognized as part of
Mississippi's troops, and to this he readily agreed.
I returned at once, and soon had the company ready to
embark on a boat I had engaged to take us to Memphis. I took
my leave of home and wife and children, then six in number, the
eldest about eleven years old, to which number was to be added
in about two months another. I do not suppose it would have
made any difference, but I did not dream when I left that I was
not to see them again except on brief visits and at rare intervals
for four long years. How could I? Each side went into that long
and bloody war with a supreme contempt for the courage and
resources of the other, though of course on both sides there
were thoughtful and well-informed men, who knew that when
once the sword was unsheathed, only complete victory for one
side or the other would end the war. I got my men to together
mostly at the town of Prentiss, the county site, there to take
boat, I myself to join them a few miles above at my own landing,
Beulah. I wish I had a complete roster of the company as it was
mustered into service a few days later at Memphis, but this I
have not, but fortunately I have, in a clipping from the county
paper of that day, a list of all those who embarked at Prentiss
and Beulah, sixty-eight in number at those two points. These
names I here record, and will add others who joined me at other
landings in the county or in Memphis, bringing the company up
to about one hundred officers and men. I deeply regret that I
cannot recall the names of each one of these last, of whom I
have no written memoranda. But this was thirty-nine years ago,
and it is surprising to myself that I remember so many. The names
follow:
Others of the original company whose names I recall, absent at the
time, or who joined immediately afterwards, were Clay Kingsley and
David Reinach, of Bolivar, J. M. and Will. Montgomery and Will.
Mason Worthington, Bert, Will. W., Ed. and Ben. Worthington,
from Washington county, and Alf. Saunders, Charley Saunders
and--Trawick, from Arkansas. To these were soon added Charles
C. Farrar, then of Ohio, a nephew of my wife, who made haste to join
me, and W. A. Alcorn, from Coahoma county; also, Charley Worthington,
of Washington. It may be I may remember others of the original
company, but there were but few more, since the names I have given
made almost or quite a full company, according to the army regulations
of those days as I remember them.
Of the officers and non-commissioned officers of this splendid
company who went out with me, I alone am left to linger for a short
while longer on the shores of time. Of the men, not a dozen now
survive. Many were killed in battle; some died with disease during
the war, and the remains of these lie in half a dozen different states.
They gave their lives for the cause they loved, and shame on the man
who would now say they were wrong. Of the remnant who returned
home, one by one they have gone to join the majority, till as I have
said not a dozen now survive. Bolivar county furnished other companies
to the confederacy--the McGehee Rifles, Captain, afterwards Colonel
Brown, commanding; a cavalry company, Captain Mason, afterwards
Captain Shelby, a splendid company officered by young planters of
the county, and composed of light-hearted sons of the Emerald Isle,
Captain Martin, who was killed at the battle of Sharpsburg.
Lieutenant Miller, of that company, and one old, disabled soldier,
Mike Monahan, now the care of the kind-hearted, are all of that
company living here, perhaps the only two now living.
We reached Memphis one morning in May, 1861, and I at once
reported to General Pillow, who ordered me to put my
command in camp at the fair grounds, and gave
me transportation for my tents and baggage. I went to the boat
and directed Lieutenant Jones to take the company to the camp,
First Lieutenant Herndon having his family with him to look
after. I was myself detained looking after quartermaster and
commissary matters. But few of the men had saddles, as I
expected to be able to get a uniform saddle for the whole
company, and therefore had instructed them not to bring their
saddles. As soon as I could I hastened to follow them, and
overtook them just as they turned out of Main street. They
formed a long, straggling column, some mounted bare-back,
others leading their horses, all encumbered with baggage besides
their arms, and presented a ludicrous appearance. Lieutenant
Jones was riding at the head of the column, mounted on a fine
gray horse, and just as I got in sight of him he turned in his
saddle and gave the command, "draw saber," and a scene of
confusion ensued which provoked me to laughter, though I was
vexed and mortified. The men tried to obey, and every man
began to tug at his saber, whether mounted or unmounted. I, of
course, put an end to the scene as soon as I could, and the truth
was the lieutenant wholly forgot for the time being the condition
of his command and what he was ordered to do, and thought he
was on drill. We soon arrived at our camping ground, and in a
short time had tents pitched, rations and forage issued, guards
stationed, and for the first time we felt we were soldiers.
I found already in camp at the grounds a fine cavalry
company from Natchez, commanded by Captain, afterwards
Major-General, William T. Martin. I had known and admired him
when I lived in Jefferson county, as a fine lawyer, and once just
as I was of age served on a jury where he was employed for the
prosecution, and which was of so much interest to me that I will
briefly state the case. It has never been reported, for in fact
only one question in the case was ever settled and that was the
issue tried before my jury. There was a free mulatto negro
named Johnson living in Natchez, a barber that every one liked,
and he acquired a little property somewhere on the river, not far
from Natchez, and near a plantation owned by a man named
Wynn. This man was quite well-to-do, owning a plantation and
about thirty slave hands, as it was said. Johnson went one day
to his little place accompanied by a mulatto boy about sixteen
years old he had in his shop. This boy returned to town saying
that Wynn had, as they were riding along the road stepped,
from behind a tree and shot Johnson, and his body was found
where the boy said it was. Wynn was arrested and put in jail
and soon after indicted for the murder. The indictment described
him as a mulatto, and though he had married a white woman,
that he had in some other county persuaded to marry him,
he had generally been considered of African descent,
where he was best known. To this indictment a plea in
abatement had been interposed, the defense claiming that he
was not a negro, under the law, as it was claimed he
had less than one-fourth negro blood in his veins. If this was
true there was no direct evidence against him, as he would be a
white man under the law, and the testimony of the mulatto boy
who saw the shot could not be taken--the testimony of negroes
not then being admissible against white people. There was a
change of venue to Jefferson county on this issue. The jury
was kept together for a week and there was a great deal of
testimony, but Judge Posey, one of the able judges of the olden
time, instructed the jury that the burden of proof was on the
state, and the jury found for the defendant.
General Martin's speech was one of the ablest I ever heard,
and though it took, as I remember, three or more
hours in the delivery, the attention of the jury never wavered.
The indictment was quashed and Wynn afterwards indicted as
a white man, but I believe got bail and was never brought to
trial.
We remained at this camp about two weeks, and I
succeeded in getting pretty fair saddles for the company,
so that when we left we made a very soldier-like appearance.
I devoted all the time I could to drilling the com-company,
but beyond this nothing of any special interest
occurred while we remained at that camp. I was ordered to
Union City, Tennessee, and Captain Martin's company to Richmond,
Virginia, about the same time, so we were never together again
during the war.
General Frank Cheatham--First Mississippi Cavalry Battalion,
Major Miller--General Cheatham's staff--Battle of Manassas,
war over--Occupation of New Madrid--Brigadier-General M. Jeff.
Thompson, Missouri State Guard--His army--Evacuate New
Madrid--Return next day--Scout to Charleston--Lose a man,
captured--Great excitement at home over this--Hickman,
Kentucky--Gunboats--Captain Marsh Miller and the Grampus--Columbus,
battalion increased.
My baggage, or most of it, I sent by rail to Union City, and,
with a squad under a lieutenant with a few sick, marched with
the main body of the company to my destination. General
Pillow supplied me with what wagons and, indeed, all I needed
in profusion, and I made the march leisurely, arriving on the
fifth day. I found a place selected for my camp and occupied
by the men I had sent before. I was ordered to report to General
Frank Cheatham, who was in command of the Tennessee forces at
that place, of whom there were at the time several thousand, as
were also several infantry regiments from Mississippi
belonging to the confederate army, but these were under the
command of General Clark, whose headquarters was then at
Corinth. I found also several companies of cavalry from Mississippi,
which were attached to General Cheatham's command, with the
same agreement I had. One of these companies and a very large
one from Pontotoc county, was commanded by Captain Miller,
and the other from Lafayette county commanded by Captain
Jack Bowles. These companies with mine were organized into a
battalion, and Captain Miller was elected its major. Very soon
after this the Tennessee forces were turned over to the
confederacy, and our battalion was known as the First Battalion
of Mississippi Cavalry, which number it retained as other
companies were from time to time in the course of the next few
months added till there were ten, and from that time on for all
time was to be known as the First Mississippi Cavalry regiment.
But this is anticipating. Major Miller was a Presbyterian divine
about I think fifty years old, but as full of military ardor as the
youngest man of his command. When the Tennessee forces
were turned over to the confederacy, General Pillow received a
commission as brigadier-general in the confederate army, but
remained for a time at Memphis, while General Cheatham
received the same rank and remained in command of the army at
Union City. General Cheatham was a veteran of the Mexican
war, and I found him to be a frank and genial soldier, and for
him and his staff, Colonel Porter and Captain Frank McNairy,
those with whom I had most to do, I formed from the first the
highest opinion, and among my most pleasant recollections of
the war is my association with them, which was to continue
closely till after the evacuation of Columbus, Kentucky, early in
March as I remember, or the last of February in 1862, after the
fall of Fort Donelson.
Our time at Union City was occupied with constant drills and
reviews, with much impatience among the men to be closer to
the enemy. But this was by no means time lost, for neither
officers nor men with the rarest exceptions knew anything
whatever about the duties they had to perform. The camp was
in a constant state of excitement from news of fights in different
parts of the country, in Virginia, South Carolina and Missouri,
and in fact all along our border.
At last came the news of the first battle of Manassas
and the utter rout of the federal forces, and the almost universal
opinion among the men at Union City was that the war was
over, and that they would be compelled to go home without
having seen an enemy or having fired a shot, and there was
general disgust at the thought.
We little knew the grim determination of the northern people,
and they as little understood the fixed purpose of the south. In
fact, in neither north nor south was any thought given to that
bull dog tenacity which belongs to the Anglo-Saxon race, to
which both sides belonged. Like Paul Jones, when summoned
to surrender by the captain of the Serapis, we had but "just
begun to fight."
At last, one day early in August (I write from memory, for
such memoranda as I once had were destroyed in the burning of
my office some years ago, and so far as I have been able to find,
history makes no mention of the movement I am now to
describe), all baggage, including tents and most of the
ammunition, was ordered placed on the cars for Memphis. The
men were ordered to take three or four days' cooked rations, and
a fixed number of rounds of ammunition to the man, and prepare
to move. Many were the speculations indulged in, but except at
headquarters none knew the purpose of the move or the
destination of the army. At last we moved almost due west, and
in a few days found ourselves on the banks of the Mississippi
river a few miles below New Madrid, Missouri, and then
embarking on boats waiting for us, in a few hours were landed at
that place. Here in a few days was concentrated a force of about
ten thousand men of all arms (rumor made them many more), and
here we felt we were close to the enemy, for every day we had
rumors of fights between what was said to be a large force of
men composed of Indians and Missourians under Brigadier-General
M. Jeff. Thompson, of the Missouri state guards, and the federal
troops. He was said to be sometimes near
Charleston and sometimes near Sykeston, one place about
twenty-five miles north and the other same distance west of
New Madrid, but we never saw his forces, though a few
men without uniform of any kind, and armed with
double-barreled guns, would now and then be seen about the
camp, who were said to be Jeff. Thompson's men. General
Thompson, I one day saw, as he was riding through the camp
on his way, as it was said, to his own forces. The stories told
about him and his army and fights were many and curious, and
the fiction as to his Indian soldiers was kept up for a long time,
and even when in the summer of 1862 he was in Mississippi,
where I came directly into association with him under peculiar
circumstances.
General Pillow came to New Madrid, and assumed personal
command of the army, and it was supposed we were about to
march from that place on St. Louis. To give more color to this
rumor, Major Miller was ordered with all the cavalry, except my
company, which was retained for picket and scouting, to join
General Thompson a short distance west of Sykeston, and a
brigade of infantry and a battery of artillery, with an ammunition
train of some twenty wagons, with my company to guard them,
was ordered to Sykeston. However, we remained only a few days in
Sykeston, when we were ordered back, and in a day or two
Major Miller was also ordered back. There were constant alarms
in camp, and we were kept on the qui vive all the time, it being
said the enemy was preparing to bring a large force down the
river, supported by gunboats, and whenever a smoke was
REMINISCENCES
OF A MISSISSIPPIAN IN
PEACE AND WARFRANK A. MONTGOMERY
Mississippi Brigade; Member of Legislature, 1880, 1882, 1884, 1896,
and one term Judge of Fourth Circuit Court District of Miss.
CINCINNATI
THE ROBERT CLARKE COMPANY PRESS
1901
Page verso
FRANK A. MONTGOMERY
Press of The Robert Clarke Co.
Cincinnati, O., U.S.A.
Dedication
Armstrong's Old Mississippi Cavalry Brigade
and to the memory of its gallant dead
I dedicate this book.
Page viiPREFACE.
Page viii
Page ixCONTENTS.
Introduction--Birth place--Old Natchez trace--Lost villages of
seventy years ago--Territory of Mississippi--Ancestors--Country
school--Oakland College--Its president--His lecture
one day--Political speech of Dr. Duncan, of Ohio--Whig party--Excitement
in Mississippi in 1851--Senators Jefferson Davis and Henry
Foote--Speeches by them--Tragic death of Dr. Chamberlain--Fate
of Oakland College. . . . . 1
Mexican war--Jefferson troop--General Thomas Hinds--Natchez
fencibles, Captain Clay--Vicksburg--Mustering officer, General
Duffield--Company rejected--Trip to Jackson--Governor
Brown--General McMackin--Alleghany College, Meadville,
Pennsylvania--Concert--Escaped slave--Copper cents--Skating, sleigh
riding--Militia muster--Home again--Cotton planter
of those days--The negro as he then was--As he is now. . . . .
12
Railroads--Shinplasters--Customs of the times--Barbecues--Camp
meetings--Militia drills--Shooting matches--Music of the times--The
preacher and the robber--Indians--S. S. Prentiss--Dueling. . . . . 22
Marriage--Move to Bolivar county--Old town of Napoleon--The
hunter--Money--State banks--Overflows and levees--Battle of
Armageddon--John Brown's raid--Effect on the south--Election
of Mr. Lincoln . . . . . 29
Page x
Excitement--Elections before the war--Formation of companies--Bolivar
troop--Secession of the state--Mississippi a nation--Army and custom
houses--General Charles Clark--Anecdote . . . . .
37
Trip to New Orleans--Company in camp--An old soldier's popularity
and final fate--Take company to Memphis--Roster of company--General
Pillow--General William T. Martin--Anecdote--Whether negro or
white man--Life depended on the question--Ordered to Union City . . . . .
44
General Frank Cheatham--First Mississippi Cavalry Battalion, Major
Miller--General Cheatham's staff--Battle of Manassas, war
over--Occupation of New Madrid--Brigadier General M. Jeff.
Thompson, Missouri State Guard--His army--Evacuate New
Madrid--Return next day--Scout to Charleston--Lose a man,
captured--Great excitement at home over this--Hickman,
Kentucky--Gunboats--Captain Marsh Miller and the Grampus--Columbus,
battalion increased. . . . . 53
Gunboats and Grampus--Ordered with squadron to Belmont--Colonel
Tappan in command--Watson's Battery--Old college mate--Dashing poker
player of old times, one of the Watsons--Scouting--First fight--Federal
sergeant killed--Leave of absence, battle
of Belmont--Winter quarters--State troops under General Alcorn--New
orderly sergeant--Old acquaintance from California--Runaway
negroes--Detailed on recruiting service--Battle of Shiloh--Battalion
increased to regiment--Colonel Lindsay in command--His habits--army falls
back to Tupelo. . . . . 63
Reorganization of regiment--Report to General Villipigue--Ordered to
Senatobia--Jeff. Thompson again--His Indian army--Mrs. M.
Galloway, of Memphis--Ordered to Bolivar
Page xi
Brigaded with Colonel W. H. Jackson, Tennessee
cavalry--Brigadier-General Frank C. Armstrong--Raid into
Tennessee--Fight near
Bolivar--Death of Lieutenant-Colonel Hogg, of Federal cavalry,
his gallant charge--Attack Medon, repulsed--Battle of Denmark
or Brittain's Lane--Severe loss--Captain Beall's presentiment and
death--Gallant charge of Colonel Wirt Adams--His unfortunate
fate after the war--Back in Mississippi--Move towards
Corinth--Rout Federal cavalry at Hatchie river--Colonel Pinson
wounded--General Van Dorn's advance on Corinth--Battle of
Corinth--Raid around Corinth--Narrow escape--Van
Dorn's retreat--In
the rear--Back to Ripley. . . . . 84
Army at Holly Springs--General Pemberton--Fight with Grierson in
Coldwater Bottom--two nameless heroes--Old Lamar, enemy
advances--Evacuation of Holly Springs--Report to General
Pemberton at Jackson--General Gregg of Texas--Trouble with
General Jackson--Correspondence with General Pemberton and
secretary of war--Grenada, court martial--Charges preferred by
General Jackson--Acquitted and ordered back to the
regiment--President Davis reviews army at Grenada. . . . .
96
Columbia, Tennessee--General Forrest--Van Dorn--Sick
leave--Faithful servant Jake Jones--Cross delta in dug
out--Methodist preacher and his wife--Lost for day and
night--Home--"Featherbeds"--Anecdotes--Fight of
"Featherbeds" at my
place--Houses all burned by Federals--Privations of the
people--Return to army--Incidentals of trip--Rejoin regiment at
Mechanicsburg. . . . . 111
General Cosby--Skirmishing--Letter to wife--Son of
General Thomas Hinds--Letter to wife 4th of July, 1863--General
Page xii
Camp near Lexington--Colonel Ross' Texas regiment--Camp near
Richland--General Reuben Davis, candidate for
governor--Anecdote--New issue and old issue,
Confederate money--Assault
on sutler's tent--Letter to my wife--Presentation of flag--Ross'
Texas and First Mississippi regiments move to Tennessee
valley--General Sherman advancing through valley to Chattanooga--Fights
in the valley--Adjutant Beasly killed--Ordered back to
Mississippi--General Stephen D. Lee in
command--Night march after Federals,
skirmish--Battle at Wolfe river near Moscow--Severe loss in
regiment and by Federals. . . . . 135
Opening of the year 1864--Gloomy prospects--General Sherman's
march through Mississippi--Skirmish on Joe Davis' place--Sharp
Skirmish at Clinton--Jackson, driven through place--Enter
Meridian--Ordered to reinforce Forrest--Forrest victorious, and
ordered back to follow Sherman--Fight near Sharon--Scout toward
Canton, capture foraging party with wagons--Another fight on
road from Sharon, with loss--In camp near Benton--Colonel
George Moorman--Colonel Pinson goes home and
marries--Ordered to Georgia--General Frank
C. Armstrong in command of
brigade--Letter from him. . . . . 148
March to Georgia--Campaign in Georgia--Join General Johnston at
Adairsville, engaged at once--Letter to my wife from
Cartersville--Constant fighting--General
Johnston's battle order,
Page xiii
Lost Mountain, constant fighting--General Polk killed, regret at his
death--Armstrong's scout to the rear, destroys railroad and
captures prisoners--Returns to army and orders me to remain
twenty-four hours in his rear--Escape without loss--Mississippi
lady refugee refuses forage--Compelled to take it--Back to
camp--Cross Chattahooche river, and ordered to
intercept cavalry raid near
Newman--General Johnston relieved, and General Hood in
command--Regret, almost despair, in the army--General Dick
Taylor's account of trouble between Mr. Davis and General
Johnston--Brigade ordered to Atlanta, regiment ordered to
battle-ground of 22d of July. . . . . 175
Want of confidence in General Hood--His opinion of the infantry of
his army--His opinion of his cavalry--Fearful sights on
battle-ground of 22d July--Skirmishes in cornfield--Ordered back to
left of army, rejoin Armstrong--Enemy advances on Lick Skillet
road--Ordered with part of regiment to extreme left--Attack
on my command--Driven back--Advance of General
Lee's corps--Battle of 28th of July--Severe
loss--Federal raids to our
rear--Fight with Killpatrick--Back to
left of army--General Sherman's
move to our left--Constant fighting, fall back to
Jonesboro--Occupy trenches, first assault of
enemy repulsed--Loss of
Jonesboro and evacuation of Atlanta. . . . .
188
Some reflections on loss of Atlanta--President Davis visits
camp--Ordered by General Jackson to take
command disabled horses and
men--Ordered to reinforce General Tyler at West Point--Orders
and letter from General Jackson--Ordered to Mississippi with my
command--Incidents of the march--Sick in hospital and leave of
absence--At home again--Met a gold bug on the road . . . . .
201
Page xiv
Rejoin army at Tupelo--Disastrous condition as seen by General
Taylor--Brigade furloughed two weeks--A young recruit to Bolivar
troop from New York, but native of Alabama, Henry
Elliot--Reorganization of cavalry at Columbus--Appointed on
examining
board--Legislature in session--Speeches by
prominent men--General Forrest--General Taylor's
opinion of him--Military
execution--Ordered towards Selma . . . . .
220
Last letter to my wife, very gloomy--Cross Warrior river, move to
Marion--New York recruit sees his aunt--Thrown
in Wilson's front--Night march, fall back on Selma--Enemy
attack Selma--How
General Taylor escaped--Description of battle--Regiment nearly all
killed, wounded or captured--Brave Federal sergeant saves
my life--Took my pistol and hat, but didn't want Confederate
money--Sorrowful night--Federal band
plays "Dixie," insult to injury. . . . .
233
Walk over battle-field under guard--Dead and wounded--Henry Elliott,
tribute to him--Adjutant Johnson mortally wounded--Put in
stockade--Kind treatment by Federal of officers and men--March
to Columbus, Georgia--Lieutenant-Colonel White, of
Indiana--Conversation with him--Colonel Pinson
and myself paroled at
Columbus--Make our way back to Mississippi--The
war over--Death of Mr. Lincoln, sorrow at the
South--Meridian, Ragsdale
House, cost of coffee at meals--Trip home and incidents--Home
again, negroes free--Doubts as to future--Determined to stand
by the state to the end . . . . . 247
Changed condition--President Johnson's plan of
reconstruction--Negroes, old Uncle Hector--Negro
problem always serious--General Alcorn's
opinion of right policy--Reconstruction under act
of congress--Negroes voting--Convention, carpet baggers and
scallawags--Our new clerk, Florey--Negroes on
juries . . . .
. 262
Page xv
Civil government under carpet-baggers--Visit to
Jackson--Legislature of 1870--Governor Alcorn
tempted by seat in senate--Judges, jury trial, and negroes
as jurors--General Starke sheriff of
Bolivar--B. K. Bruce--His manners and
conservatism--Campaign of 1873--Alcorn
and the chancellor--Correspondence with Governor
Alcorn--Campaign of 1875--Rout of carpet-baggers by tax-payers . . . . .
274
Campaign of 1876--John R. Lynch--Twenty negro
laws, his anecdote--Elected to legislature--Commissioner
to Washington City in 1882 and
1884 in interest of levees--Captain Eads--Congressman Jones
from Kentucky--Funeral of Mr. Davis in New Orleans--Elected
to legislature from Coahoma county--Appointed
circuit judge--Moral influence of the bar--Golden
wedding tributes--Conclusion--The Star of Mississippi . . . . .
291
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Page 1CHAPTER I.
Page 2
Page 3
Page 4
Page 5
Page 6
Page 7
"Could we with ink the ocean fill,
Were earth of parchment made,
Were every single stick a quill,
Each man a scribe by trade,
To write the tricks of half the sex
Would drink that ocean dry.
Gallants, beware, look sharp, take care,
The blind eat many a fly."
Page 8
" 'We stoop to conquer!' who are 'We'
That from our mountain height descending
With golden bribe and treacherous smile,
With the sons of freemen blending,
Sow the seeds of vile corruption?
Poor nurselings of the Federal 'style,'
Fed on the husks of aristocracy--
'We' quail in fear beneath the eye
Of nature's true and tried Democracy."
Page 9
Page 10
Page 11
Page 12CHAPTER II.
Page 13
Page 14
Page 15
Page 16
Page 17
Page 18
Page 19
Page 20
Page 21
Page 22CHAPTER III.
Page 23
Page 24
Page 25
Page 26
Page 27
Page 28
Page 29CHAPTER IV.
Page 30
Page 31
Page 32
Page 33
Page 34
Page 35
Page 36
Page 37CHAPTER V.
Page 38
Page 39
Page 40
Page 41
Page 42
Page 43
Page 44CHAPTER VI.
Page 45
Page 46
Page 47
Page 48
Privates:
Page 49
Page 50
Page 51
Page 52
Page 53CHAPTER VII.
Page 54
Page 55
Page 56