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(title page) The Woman in Battle: A Narrative of the Exploits, Adventures, and Travels of Madame Loreta Janeta Velazquez, Otherwise Known as Lieutenant Harry T. Buford, Confederate States Army. In Which Is Given Full Descriptions of the Numerous Battles in which She Participated as a Confederate Officer; of Her Perilous Performances as a Spy, as a Bearer of Despatches, as a Secret-Service Agent, and as a Blockade-Runner; of Her Adventures Behind the Scenes at Washington, including the Bond Swindle; of her Career as a Bounty and Substitute Broker in New York; of Her Travels in Europe and South America; Her Mining Adventures on the Pacific Slope; Her Residence among the Mormons; Her Love Affairs, Courtships, Marriages, &c., &c.
Loreta Janeta Velazquez
C. J. Worthington
Richmond, VA.
Dustin, Gilman &
Co.
1876
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LC Subject Headings:
Revision History:
MADAM VELASQUEZ IN FEMALE ATTIRE.
[Frontispiece Image]
[Title Page Image]
EDITED BY
C. J. WORTHINGTON,
Command the trumpets of the war to sound!
This stillness doth perplex and harass me;
An inward impulse drives me from repose,
It still impels me to achieve my work.SCHILLER--The Maid of Orleans.
PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED.
TO MY
Comrades of the Confederate Armies,
WHO, ALTHOUGH THEY FOUGHT IN A LOSING CAUSE,
SUCCEEDED BY THEIR VALOR IN WINNING
THE ADMIRATION OF THE WORLD,
THIS NARRATIVE
OF MY ADVENTURES AS A SOLDIER, A SPY,
AND A SECRET-SERVICE AGENT,
Is Dedicated,
WITH ALL HONOR, RESPECT, AND GOOD WILL.
If I expected by this story of my adventures to achieve any literary reputation, I might be disposed, on account of its many faults of style, to ask the indulgence of those who will do me the honor to undertake its perusal. As, however, I only attempted authorship because I had, as others assured me, and as I myself believed, something to tell that was worth telling, I have been more concerned about the matter than the manner of my book, and I hope that the narrative will prove of sufficient interest to compensate for a lack of literary elegance in setting forth. Mine has been a life too busily occupied in other matters for me to cultivate the graces of authorship; and the best I can hope to do is to relate my story with simplicity and truth, and then let it find its fate, whether it be praise or condemnation.
The composition of this book has been a labor of love, and yet one of no ordinary difficulties. The loss of my notes has compelled me to rely entirely upon my memory; and memory is apt to be very treacherous, especially when, after a number of years, one endeavors to relate in their proper sequence a long series of complicated transactions. Besides, I have been compelled to write hurriedly, and in the intervals of pressing business, the necessities I have been under of earning my daily bread being such as could not be disregarded, even for the purpose of winning the laurels of authorship. To speak plainly, however, I care little for laurels of any kind just now, and am much more anxious for the money that I hope this book will bring in to me than I am for the praises of either
critics or public. The money I want badly, while praise, although it will not be ungratifying, I am sufficiently philosophical to get along very comfortably without.
I do not know what the good people who will read this book will think of me. My career has differed materially from that of most women; and some things that I have done have shocked persons for whom I have every respect, however much my ideas of propriety may differ from theirs. I can only say, however, that in my opinion there was nothing essentially improper in my putting on the uniform of a Confederate officer for the purpose of taking an active part in the war; and, as when on the field of battle, in camp, and during long and toilsome marches, I endeavored, not without success, to display a courage and fortitude not inferior to the most courageous of the men around me, and as I never did aught to disgrace the uniform I wore, but, on the contrary, won the hearty commendation of my comrades, I feel that I have nothing to be ashamed of. Had I believed that my book needed any apologies on this score, it would never have been written; and, having written it, I am willing to submit my conduct to the judgment of the public, with a confidence that I will at least receive due credit for the motives by which I was animated.
In the preparation of this book for the press, I have been greatly aided by the gentleman who has consented to act as my editor. Although during the war he was on the other side, he has interested himself most heartily in assisting me to get my narrative into the best shape for presentation to the public, and has shown a remarkable skill in detecting and correcting errors into which I had inadvertently fallen. I take pleasure in acknowledging my indebtedness to him.
The book, such as it is,--and I have tried to make it all that such a book should be by telling my story in as plain, straightforward, and unpretending a style as I could command,--is now, for good or ill, out of my hands, and my adopted country people will have to decide for themselves whether the writing of it was worth the while or not.
THE frank egotism of such a narrative as is contained in the volume now in the hands of the reader needs no apology. Self-reliance, self-esteem, and self-approbation, all were necessary for the consummation of such adventures as those herein related; and, in the opinion of the editor, a chief merit in the book is the perfect unreserve with which its author gives to the world, not only the full particulars of her numerous daring exploits and adventures, but the motives by which she was influenced in undertaking them, and her impressions of men and events. Since the author has not seen fit to do so, the editor does not feel called upon to argue the question of propriety involved in the appearance of a woman disguised in male attire on the battle-field; but, with regard to some of the transactions in which Madame Velazquez was engaged during the progress of the great civil war, a few words of comment, explanatory rather than apologetic, seem to be required.
Some of these transactions were of a character that, under ordinary circumstances, would admit of no extenuation; but, in making up a judgment concerning them, several important facts must be constantly borne in mind. One of them is, that Madame Velazquez was acting as the agent of the only government to which she acknowledged allegiance, and that she considered herself as justified in aiding that government by every means in her power, as well by fighting its enemies in the field, as by embarrassing them by such attacks in the rear as are related in her narrative. This plea will, of course, be
worth nothing to those who refuse to admit that for any purposes the Confederacy had a right to exist. It is necessary, however, to view matters of this kind from a different standpoint from this. The fact that the Federal Government was compelled to recognize the Confederates as belligerents, and was compelled to hold official intercourse with them, renders argument on this head unnecessary. Admitting that they were belligerents, they were justified, within certain limitations, in doing all in their power to defeat their enemies, not only by opposing them with armies in the field, but by demoralizing them by insidious attacks in the rear, and by hampering their efforts to keep their ranks full, and to provide the ways and means for maintaining the armies at the highest state of efficiency. Whatever view non-combatants might have taken of the war, the men who did the fighting were obliged to consider it, in a great measure, as a trial of skill and valor, and practically to disregard sentimental or political considerations. From a military point of view, therefore, what was proper and justifiable for one side, was proper and justifiable for the other, and will so be considered by impartial critics.
These remarks have particular reference to the portions of this narrative which relate the experiences of Madame Velazquez as a Confederate secret-service agent at the North during the last eighteen or twenty months of the war. It will be noticed that she speaks with undisguised contempt of some of her associates within the Federal lines,--associates without whose aid she could never have accomplished the work she undertook. The unprejudiced reader will have no difficulty in understanding that their position and hers were vastly different. Some of these people were trusted officers of the government, were sworn to loyalty and fidelity, and were in the enjoyment of the full confidence of the public, as well as of their immediate superiors. Others were men who were loud in their protestations of loyalty, but who, while eager to be recognized as stanch supporters of the Federal government, were, for the sake of gain, secretly engaged in aiding
the enemy by every means in their power. These people, and the shrewd, sharp woman who made use of them for the furtherance of the work she undertook to perform for the purpose of aiding the government to which she had given her allegiance in carrying on a gigantic contest, are surely not to be judged by the same standard; and that Madame Velazquez does not hesitate to relate the details of her transactions as a Confederate agent and spy, proves that she, at least, does not consider that she has done anything to be ashamed of, and is willing that her conduct shall be freely criticised.
To many readers, the story of Madame Velazquez's experiences in camp and on the battle-field while disguised as a Confederate officer, will, from the peculiarities of her position, have a particular interest. In the opinion of the editor, however, the most important part of the book is that in which a revelation is made, now for the first time, of the exact manner in which the Confederate secret-service system at the North was managed. There is no feature of the civil war that more needs to have light thrown on it than this; and, as the story which the heroine of the adventures herein set down recites, is an exceedingly curious one, it is deserving of the special consideration of the public, both North and South.
The editor of this volume was in the United States naval service from near the beginning to the end of the civil war; and as he gave his adhesion to the Union cause from principle rather than passion, and as he has never, either during the war or since its close, had other than the kindest feelings towards those who took the other side, under a sincere conviction that they were right, he not only had had no hesitation in preparing the narrative of Madame Velazquez for the press, but he feels that he can appreciate the motives which, from first to last, seem to have actuated her. The Southern people made a great mistake when they inaugurated the war; but it does not become those who fought in the Federal ranks to doubt, at this late day, the sincerity or honesty of purpose of the vast majority of them.
The great American civil war was an event that deserves to be judged dispassionately; and to judge it dispassionately, it is necessary that the people of both sections should understand each other better than they did while the conflict was being waged, or, indeed, than they do now. It is especially important that the people of the North, being the victors, and being in a great measure responsible for the present and future good government of the South, and for a proper appreciation there of the advantages of a cordial and fraternal, as well as a political union, should study the war from a Southern point of view. The present volume, the editor believes, is not only a most interesting narrative of adventure of a very exceptional kind, but it is an important and valuable contribution to the history of the war.
Madame Velazquez, whose enthusiasm for the cause of Southern independence induced her to discard the garments of her sex, and to assume male attire for the purpose of appearing upon the battle-field, is a typical Southern woman of the war period; and there are thousands of officers and soldiers who fought in the Confederate armies who can bear testimony, not only to the valor she displayed in battle, and under many circumstances of difficulty and danger, but to her integrity, her energy, her ability, and her unblemished reputation. Upon these points, however, it is not necessary to dilate; her story will speak for itself, and that it is a true story in every particular, there are abundant witnesses whose testimony will not be disputed.
As Madame Velazquez is a typical Southern woman of the war period, so her story furnishes a curious inside view of the Confederacy, and it throws much light on a great number of obscure points in its history. For this reason, if no other, it will deserve the attention of Northern readers, who will find many things stated in it which it is well for them to know. No commendation of any kind is needed to command for it the consideration of the people of the South. From the breaking out of the war to its close, the Confederate cause had no more
enthusiastic or zealous supporter than the woman who was known as Lieutenant Harry T. Buford. According to her opportunities, she labored with unsurpassed zeal and efficiency, and with a disinterestedness that cannot but be admired.
With regard to the part performed by the editor in preparing this work for the press, it may be proper to say a few words. The manuscript, when it was placed in his hands, was found to be very minute and particular in some places, and rather meagre in others, where particularity seemed desirable. Having undertaken to get this material into proper shape, correspondence was opened with Madame Velazquez, and a number of interviews with her were had. A general plan having been agreed upon, it was left entirely to the judgment of the editor what to omit or what to insert,--Madame Velazquez agreeing to supply such information as was needed to make the story complete, in a style suitable for publication. From her correspondence, and from notes of her conversations, a variety of very interesting details, not in the original manuscript, were obtained and incorporated in the narrative. The editor, also, in several places has corrected palpable errors of time and place, and has added a few facts not supplied by the author. These corrections and additions have been made after consultation with the author, and with her entire approbation. In preparing her manuscript, Madame Velazquez seems to have endeavored to narrate the incidents of her career in the fullest manner possible; and it consequently contains a large amount of matter which can be of but very little, if any, interest to the general public. It has been necessary, therefore, while expanding in some places, to make large excisions in others; but the story is such an extraordinary one, in many of its aspects, that it has been judged better to give it in too great fulness, rather than to omit what the purchasers of the book would have a right to find in it. The excisions have, therefore, been carefully made, and it is believed that nothing has been omitted that is of value or importance. A few expressions that might needlessly give
offence, have either been stricken out or altered, while some, which persons of severe taste may object to, have been permitted to remain as they were originally written, they being in some way characteristic of the writer, or of the circumstances under which she was placed. While Madame Velazquez does not pretend to any literary accomplishments, her style has a certain flavor which is far from unpleasant; and the editor has been careful, in making such changes and alterations as have seemed necessary, to retain the author's own words wherever practicable.
Owing to the loss of her diary, Madame Velazquez was compelled to write her narrative entirely from memory, which will account for the errors to which allusion has been made. Indeed, considering the multiplicity of events, it is very remarkable that she has been able to relate her story with any degree of accuracy. It is possible that, despite the pains that have been taken to make the narrative exact in every particular with regard to its facts, a few errors may have been permitted to remain uncorrected. These errors, however, are not material, and do not in any way impair the interest of the story.
Madame Velazquez is a very remarkable woman, and some account of her personal appearance, other than can be obtained from the portraits of her which are given in this book, will doubtless be appreciated by the reader. She is rather slender, something above medium height, has more than the average of good looks, is quick and energetic in her movements, and is very vivacious in conversation. Her frame is firmly knit, and she is evidently endowed with great powers of physical endurance. Those who have seen her in male attire say that her skill in disguising herself was very great, and that she readily passed for a man. At the same time she is anything but masculine, either in appearance, manners, or address. She is a shrewd, enterprising, and energetic business woman, and in society is a brilliant and most entertaining conversationalist, abounding in a fund of racy
anecdotes, and endowed with a mimetic power that enables her to relate her anecdotes in the most telling manner. In New York, Philadelphia, and other Northern cities, as well as throughout the South and West, she has a large number of very warm friends, who hold her in the highest esteem on account of her eminent talents, her fascinating social qualities, and her unblemished reputation. It is to be hoped that the publication of the story of her checkered career will have the effect of increasing, rather than of diminishing, the number of these friends. Her story is a most remarkable one, in nearly every respect. During the war a number of women, on both sides, from time to time, performed spy duty, and several of them are said to have occasionally assumed male attire. Madame Velazquez, however, it is believed, is the only one of her sex, who, for any length of time, wore a masculine garb, or who participated as a combatant in a series of hard-fought battles. Narratives of the adventures of several heroines on the Federal side have been published, but none of them will at all compare in extent and variety of interest with the volume now before the reader, which has an additional claim on the regards of the public as being the only authentic account of the career of a Confederate heroine that has issued from the press.
tough Fighting.--How Beauregard and Johnston rallied their Men.--The Contest for the Possession of the Plateau.--Bee and Bartow Killed.--Arrival of Kirby Smith with Re-enforcements.--The Victory Won.--Application for Promotion.--Return to Richmond. . . . . 95
System of Questioning.--The Federal Plans with regard to the Mississippi.-- An Attack on New Orleans Surmised.--A Tour around Washington.--Visit to the War Department, and Interview with Secretary Cameron and General Wessells.--An Introduction to the President.--Impressions of Mr. Lincoln.--I succeed in finding out a Thing or two at the Post-Office.--Sudden Departure from Washington.--Return to Leesburg.--Departure for Columbus, Kentucky. . . . . 136
Escape.--General Buckner surrenders to General Grant.--Terrible Scenes after the Battle is Over.--The Ground strewn for Miles with Dead and Dying.--Wounded Men crushed by the Artillery Wagons.--The Houses of the Town of Dover filled with Wounded.--My Depression of Spirits on Account of the Terrible Scenes I had Witnessed. . . . . 161
Federals.--I see my Arkansas Company, and join It.--A Lieutenant being killed, I take his Place, amid a hearty Cheer from the Men.--A Secret Revealed.--I fight through the Battle under the Command of my Lover.--Furious Assaults on the Enemy's Lines.--The Bullets fly Thick and Fast.--General Albert Sydney Johnston Killed.--End of the First Day's Battle, and Victory for the Confederates.--Beauregard's Error in not pursuing his Advantage.--I slip through the Lines after Dark, and watch what is going on at Pittsburg Landing.--The Gunboats open Fire.--Unpleasant Effect of Shells from big Guns.--Utter Demoralization of the Federals.--Arrival of Buell with Re-enforcements.--General Grant and another general Officer pass near Me in a Boat, and I am tempted to take a Shot at Them.--I return to Camp, and wish to report what I had seen to General Beauregard, but am dissuaded from doing so by my Captain.--Uneasy Slumbers.--Commencement of the Second Day's Fight.--The Confederates unable to contend with the Odds against Them.--A lost Opportunity.--The Confederates defeated, and compelled to retire from the Field.--I remain in the Woods near the Battle-field all Night. . . . . 200
the Lines.--I drive an active Trade in Drugs and Confederate Money while carrying Information to and Fro.--Preparations for a grand final Speculation in Confederate Money.--I am intrusted with a Despatch for the "Alabama," and am started for Havana. . . . . 232
resume my Confederate Uniform.--A perilous Attempt to reach the Confederate Lines.--What a Drink of Whiskey can do.--I become lame in my wounded Foot, and am sent to Atlanta for medical Treatment. . . . . 298
I reveal my Identity.--Astonishment and Joy of my Lover. --Preparations for our Wedding.--A very quiet Affair Proposed.--The Wedding.--A short Honeymoon.--Departure of my Husband for the Front.--My Apprehensions for his Health.--My Apprehensions justified in the News of his Death in a Federal Hospital in Chatanooga.--Once more a Widow. . . . . 326
Human Nature.--The Kind of Secrets Women can Keep.--Women better than Men for certain Kinds of Secret Service Duty.--The Lieutenant wants to know all about me.--I suspect that he has Matrimonial Inclinations.--He is anxious to discover whether I have any wealthy Relations.--I am induced to think that I can make him useful in obtaining Information with regard to the Federal Movements.--The Lieutenant expresses his Opinion about the War.--Arrival at Memphis.--Visit to the Provost Marshal's Office.-- General Washburn too ill to see me.--I enclose him the bogus Despatch I have for him, with an explanatory Note.--The Lieutenant escorts me to the Hardwick House, and I request him to call in the Morning.--Procuring a Change of Dress through One of the Servants, I slip out, and have an Interview with my Confederate, and give him the Despatch for General Forrest. --On returning to the Hotel, I meet the Lieutenant on the Street, but manage to pass him without being observed.--Satisfactory Accomplishment of my Errand. . . . . 362
and afterwards St. Thomas.--While at St. Thomas the Confederate Cruiser Florida comes in, coals, and gets to Sea again, despite the Federal Fleet watching her. . . . . 454
Castle Garden the great Resort of Substitute-brokers.--How the poor Foreigners were entrapped by lying Promises made to them.--How these Frauds could have been prevented by an impartial Conscription Law impartially administered.--Colonel Baker arrives in New York for the Purpose of commencing an Investigation.--He asks me to assist him, which I consent to do, after warning my Associates.--How Baker went to Work.--Striking up an Acquaintance with Jim Fisk.--Fisk gives me Money for a Charitable Object, and Railroad Passes for poor Soldiers.--An Oil Stock Speculation. . . . . 488
attired as a Spanish Officer.--General Mansana taken sick.--A Steamer in the Harbor, with Emigrants from the United States on board, bound for Para.-- I endeavor to persuade them to Return.--Death of General Mansana.--I start for New York. . . . . 562
The Woman in Battle.--Heroines of History.--Joan of Arc.--A Desire to emulate Her.--The Opportunity that was offered.--Breaking out of the War between the North and the South.--Determination to take part in the Contest.--A noble Ancestry.--The Velazquez Family.--My Birth at Havana.--Removal of my Family to Mexico.--The War between The United States and Mexico.--Loss of my Father's Estates.--Return of the Family to Cuba.--My early Education.--At School in New Orleans.--Castles in the Air.--Romantic Aspirations.--Trying to be a Man.--Midnight Promenades before the Mirror in Male Attire.
The woman in battle is an infrequent figure on the pages of history, and yet, what would not history lose were the glorious records of the heroines,--the great-souled women, who have stood in the front rank where the battle was hottest and the fray most deadly,--to be obliterated? When women have rushed to the battle-field they have invariably distinguished themselves; and their courage, their enthusiasm, and their devotion to the cause espoused, have excited the brave among the men around them to do and to dare to the utmost, and have shamed the cowards into believing that it was worth while to peril life itself in a noble cause, and that
honor to a soldier ought to be more valuable than even life. The records of the women who have taken up arms in the cause of home and country; who have braved the scandals of the camp; who have hazarded reputation,--reputation dearer than life,--and who have stood in the imminent deadly breach, defying the enemy, if not so imposing in numbers as those in which the deeds of male warriors are recited, are glorious nevertheless; and if steadfast courage, true-hearted loyalty, and fiery enthusiasm go for anything, women have nothing to blush for in the martial deeds of those of their sex who have stood upon the battle-field.
Far back in the early days of the Hebrew commonwealth Deborah rallied the despairing warriors of Israel, and led them to victory. Semiramis, the Queen of the Assyrians, commanded her armies in person. Tomyris, the Scythian queen, after the defeat of the army under the command of her son, Spargopises, took the field in person, and outgeneralling the Persian king, Cyrus, routed his vastly outnumbering forces with great slaughter, the king himself being among the slain. Boadicea, the British queen, resisted the Roman legions to the last, and fought the invaders with fury when not a man could be found to lead the islanders to battle. Bona Lombardi, an Italian peasant girl, fought in male attire by the side of her noble husband, Brunaro, on more than one hotly contested field; and on two occasions, when he had been taken prisoner and placed in close confinement, she effected his release by her skill and valor.
Catalina de Eranso, the Monja Alferez, or the nun-lieutenant, who was born in the city of Sebastian, Spain, in 1585, was one of the most remarkable of the heroines who have distinguished themselves by playing the masculine rôle, and venturing into positions of deadly peril. This woman, becoming disgusted with the monotony of convent life, made her escape, and in male garb joined one of the numerous expeditions then fitting out for the New World. Her intelligence and undaunted valor soon attracted the notice of her superior officers, and she was rapidly promoted. Participating in a number of hard-fought battles, she won the reputation of being an unusually skilful and daring soldier, and would have achieved both fame and fortune, were it not that her fiery temper embroiled her
in frequent quarrels with her associates. One of her many disagreements resulted in a duel, in which she had the misfortune to kill her antagonist, and, to escape the vengeance of his friends, she was compelled to fly. After traversing a large portion of the New World, and encountering innumerable perils, she returned to Europe, where she found that the trumpet of fame was already heralding her name, and that there was the greatest curiosity to see her. Travelling through Spain and Italy, she had numerous exceedingly romantic adventures; and while in the last named country she managed to obtain an interview with Pope Urban VIII., who was so pleased with her appearance and her conversation that he granted her permission to wear male attire during the balance of her life.
Within the past hundred years more than one heroine has stamped her name indelibly upon the role of fame. All Amercans know how brave Molly Pitcher, at the battle of Monmouth, busied herself in carrying water to the parched and wearied soldiers, and how, when her husband was shot down at his gun, instead of woman fashion, sorrowing for him with unavailing tears, she sprang to take his place, and through the long, hot summer's day fought the foreign emissaries who were seeking to overthrow the liberties of her country, until, with decimated ranks they fled, defeated from the field.
At the seige of Saragossa, in 1808, when Palafox, and the men under his command, despaired of being able to resist the French, Agostino, "the maid of Saragossa," appeared upon the scene, and with guerra al cuchillo--"war to the knife"--as her battle-cry, she inspired the general and his soldiers to fight to the last in resisting the French invaders, and by her words and deeds became the leading spirit in one of the most heroic defences of history.
Nearer our own time Appolonia Jagiello fought valiantly for the liberation of Poland and Hungary. She had kingly blood in her veins, and her heart burned within her at the wrongs which her native country, Poland, suffered at the hands of her oppressors. When the insurrection at Cracow took place, in 1846, she assumed male attire, and went into the thickest of the fight. The insurrection was a failure, although it might not have been had the men who began it been as stout-hearted and as enthusiastic in a great cause as Appolonia
Jagiello. In 1848 she participated in another outbreak at Cracow, and distinguished herself as one of the most valorous of the combatants. After the failure of this attempt at rebellion she went to Vienna, where she took part in an engagement in the faubourg Widen. Her object in visiting the Austrian capital, however, was chiefly to ascertain the exact character of the struggle which was in progress, in order to carry information to the Hungarians. After numerous perilous adventures she joined the Hungarian forces, and fought at the battle of Enerzey, in which the Austrians were defeated, and on account of the valor she displayed was promoted to the rank of lieutenant. After this she joined an expedition under General Klapka, which assaulted an took the city of Raab. When the Hungarians were finally defeated and there was no longer any hope that either Hungary or Poland would gain their independence, Mademoiselle Jagiello came to the United States, in 1848, with other refugees, and for a number of years resided in the city of Washington, respected and beloved by all who knew her. No braver soldier than this lady ever trod the field of battle, while the universal testimony of all who were honored with her acquaintance is, that she was a most womanly woman, and was lacking in nothing that makes true womanhood esteemed by right-thinking people.
But, whenever I think of the women who have distinguished themselves in battle, my affections turn to the greatest and noblest of them all, and my imagination fires with a desire to emulate the glorious deeds of Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans. A religious enthusiast, as well as a born leader of men, and a martial genius of the first order, this great woman infused, by the power of her matchless eloquence, courage and determination into the heart of a weak, cowardly, and vacillating king, and then, seizing the banner of France, she rallied the defeated and demoralized armies, and led them with terrible effect against the British foe. At last, betrayed into the hands of her enemies, she suffered with all the unbending courage of her heroic nature, a martyrdom at the stake, which, while it embalmed her memory in the hearts of the French people, covered with shame the names of the cowardly ruffians who decreed her death on a pretended charge, because they were afraid to let her live for fear that
her existence, even as a prisoner, would be a perpetual menace to them, and a perpetual encouragement to the French people to fight to the death. The statue of Joan of Arc, chiselled by the fair hands of a French princess, stands to-day in the market-place at Rouen where she suffered, and the memory of her glorious deeds as a great-hearted patriot remains to all time as an example of what a woman may do if she only dares, and dares to do greatly.
From my early childhood Joan of Arc was my favorite heroine; and many a time has my soul burned with an overwhelming desire to emulate her deeds of valor, and to make for myself a name which, like hers, would be enrolled in letters of gold among the women who had the courage to fight like men--ay, better than most men--for a great cause, for friends, and for father-land.
At length an opportunity offered, in the breaking out of the conflict between the North and the South in 1861, for me to carry out my long-cherished ideas; and it was embraced with impetuous eagerness, combined with a calm determination to see the thing through, and to shrink from nothing that such a step would involve.
My opportunities and my circumstances were different from those of my ideal woman, Joan of Arc, and consequently my story has but little resemblance to hers. I did all that it was possible for me to do, however, for the cause I espoused, and the great French heroine did no more. Happily I escaped her dreadful fate, and live to relate the many adventures that befell me while playing the part of a warrior. So many persons have assured me that my story--prosaic as much of it seems to me--is full of romance, and that it cannot fail to interest readers both South and North, that I have been induced to narrate it for the benefit of those who wish to make the acquaintance of a woman warrior, and to be entertained, and perhaps instructed, by a recital of her adventures. If there are any such,--and I am sure there are,--they will find in these pages an unaffected and unpretending, but truthful, and I hope interesting narrative of what befell me while attached to the army of the Confederate States of America, and while performing services other than those of a strictly military character under the pseudonyme of Lieutenant Harry T. Buford.
Hundreds, nay thousands of officers and men in the Confederate service, knew me well under this name, and although
my disguise was finally penetrated, and I was forced to resume the garments of my sex, it is probable that a vast number of my late associates will now for the first time learn that the handsome young officer--I was accounted an uncommonly good-looking fellow, when dressed in my best uniform, in those days--was a woman, and a woman who was mentally making some very uncomplimentary notes with regard to much of their very naughty conversation. My experience is, that the language used by the very best men in masculine society is too often not such as pure-minded women would like to listen to, while that of the worst is so utterly revolting, that it is a pity some men cannot always have decent women at their elbows to keep their tongues from being fouled with blasphemy and obscenity. I hope that some of my late associates, when they learn that the Lieutenant Harry T. Buford, whose ears were so often greeted by their profanity and ribaldry, will have enough self-respect to blush with shame at having addressed the language they did to a woman, and a modest woman at that.
What I have just said will give a hint of some of the most unpleasant incidentals of the rôle which I undertook to play. I was not to be deterred, however, from carrying out my plans by the bad language I was compelled to listen to, nor by any other of the disagreeable features of camp life. How well I did play my part, happily does not depend upon my own testimony alone, for some of the most distinguished officers of the Confederate army, and many equally distinguished civilians, can and will testify to the truthfulness of the story I am about to relate, and to the unblemished character I bore while in the Confederate service. I not only assumed the garment of my sex once more with the credit of having done the state some important services, and of having labored with efficiency, courage, and energy to secure the independence of the Confederacy, but, with my womanly reputation unblemished by even a suspicion of impropriety; and I take this occasion to say, in a very positive manner, that women, if they will, may pass through the most trying scenes with unblemished reputations, and that they have much more to dread in this particular matter from the scandalous gossip of city, village, and country neighborhoods, than they have from camp associations, with all their license of language and conduct.
I have every reason to be proud of the name I bear, and of the ancestry from whom I inherited it. My father's family is a very ancient one, and the blood which flows in my veins is that of Castilian nobles, whose deeds are intimately connected with some of the most impressive episodes of Spanish history. Reckless as some portions of my own career may seem to unthinking persons, I have the satisfaction of knowing, in my own soul, that by no act of mine has the noble name of Velazquez been brought into discredit, and that at all times, and under the most discouraging circumstances, I have ever upheld my own honor and that of my family.
Both in Spain and in the Spanish dominions on this side of the Atlantic, is the name of Velazquez well known and highly honored. Don Diego Velazquez, the conqueror and the first governor of Cuba, under whose superintendence the expedition which discovered Mexico was sent out, was one of my ancestors, and Don Diego Rodriguez Velazquez, the greatest artist that Spain ever produced, was a member of my family. It will thus be seen that I came of excellent, although somewhat fiery and headstrong stock, and, if in assuming the garments of a man, and endeavoring to do a man's work on the battle-field, I transgressed against the conventionalities of modern society, the reader will, I am sure, charitably attribute some of the blame to the adventuresome blood of old Governor Don Diego, which I inherited, and, which fired my brain and steeled my nerves when there was a prospect held out that, despite the fact of my being a woman, I might be able to enjoy the excitements of the battlefield, and win for myself a warrior's fame.
My father was a native of the city of Carthagena, and he received a very thorough education at the universities of Madrid and Paris. He was an accomplished Latin, French and German scholar, and spoke all these languages fluently. English he paid but little attention to until alter his marriage with my mother. Like all the members of his family, he was a very strict Catholic. Two of his brothers being in the Spanish army, and his tastes inclining him to the life of a civilian, a diplomatic appointment was procured for him, and he went to Paris as an attaché of the Spanish embassy.
It was while residing in Paris that my father became
acquainted with the lady whom he married, and made the mother of his children. My mother was the daughter of a French naval officer, by an American lady, the daughter of a wealthy merchant. She, of course, spoke English fluently, and tried to instruct my father in it. He managed, in time, to understand it very well, but he never spoke it without some accent. My father's marriage occurred a short time before the expiration of his term of office, and after his recall to Spain he took up his residence in the city of Madrid, where three sons and two daughters were born.
In 1840 my father was appointed to an official position in Cuba, and two years later I, his sixth and last child, came into the world in a house on the Calle Velaggas, near the walls in the city of Havana, on the 26th of June, 1842. I was christened Loreta Janeta.
When I was almost one year old, my father fell heir to a large estate in Texas, which was then a part of the republic of Mexico. He accordingly resigned his position as an employee of the Spanish government in Cuba, and in 1844 removed with his family to San Luis Potosi, in Central Mexico. His property consisted of a very large tract of land and immense herds of cattle, and as he was a careful and accurate business man, the probabilities are, that in a short time he would have become one of the wealthiest landed proprietors of that region. Unfortunately we had scarcely been settled in our new home a twelvemonth, when the war between Mexico and the United States broke out. I was too young at the time, of course, to recollect anything of this memorable contest, although it had a potent influence on my own destiny.
My father, so soon as war was declared, decided to take part in the conflict, and offered his services to the Mexican government to assist in expelling the invaders. His offer was accepted, and he received a commission as an officer in the army. Sending his family to the Island of St. Lucia, one of the British West Indian provinces, where my mother's only brother resided, he took the field, and fought until the
end of the war against the forces of the United States. During the conflict his estates were devastated and his property destroyed, and this, combined with the non-success of the Mexican arms, greatly imbittered him against the Americans, and this bitterness he retained till the day of his death.
When the war was ended, and a large portion of the northern part of Mexico ceded to the United States, my father, whose estates were included in this territory, refused to live under a government which he disliked so intensely, and he consequently abandoned his property and went to Santiago de Cuba, where he was rejoined by his family. In the mean time he had fallen heir to another valuable estate at Puerto de Palmas, and settling upon it, he engaged actively in the sugar, tobacco, and coffee trade. The profits on these articles being very large, he speedily acquired great wealth, and was able to surround his family with every luxury.
While we were residing on the Puerto de Palmas plantation an English governess was employed to conduct my education. I remained under this good lady's instruction until 1849, learning the elementary branches, and acquiring a fair knowledge of the English language. In that year my father, at my mother's urgent solicitation, determined to send me to New Orleans for the purpose of completing my education. I accordingly took up my abode with Madame R., my mother's only surviving sister, who resided in Rue Esplanade, New Orleans. My aunt was rather strict with me, but she took much pains with my education, and for two years I studied under her supervision, mainly devoting myself to acquiring an accurate knowledge of English, so as to be able to read, write, and speak it with fluency. Having become reasonably proficient in such studies as were assigned me by my aunt, I was sent to the school conducted by the Sisters of Charity, to learn the ornamental branches. Here I remained until the romantic clandestine marriage, which did so much towards shaping my future career, took place.
From my earliest recollections my mind has been filled with aspirations, of the most ardent possible kind, to fill some great sphere. I expended all my pocket money, not in candies and
cakes, as most girls are in the habit of doing, but in the purchase of books which related the events of the lives of kings, princes, and soldiers. The story of the siege of Orleans, in particular, I remember, thrilled my young heart, fired my imagination, and sent my blood bounding through my veins with excitement. Joan of Arc became my heroine, and I longed for an opportunity to become such another as she. I built air-castles without number, and in my day-dreams I was fond of imagining myself as the hero of most stupendous adventures. I wished that I was a man, such a man as Columbus or Captain Cook, and could discover new worlds, or explore unknown regions of the earth. I could not even write a social letter to my father to inform him of the state of my health, or my educational progress, without putting in it some romantic project which I had on hand. This propensity of mine evidently annoyed him greatly, for he frequently reprimanded me with much severity, although he took no measures to remove me from influences which were certainly not unattended with danger to a girl of my impulsive and imaginative disposition; so that it is no wonder I was soon engaged in a romantic escapade which gave my family great offense and anxiety.
I was especially haunted with the idea of being a man; and the more I thought upon the subject, the more I was disposed to murmur at Providence for having created me a woman. While residing with my aunt, it was frequently my habit, after all in the house had retired to bed at night, to dress myself in my cousin's clothes, and to promenade by the hour before the mirror, practicing the gait of a man, and admiring the figure I made in masculine raiment. I wished that I could only change places with my brother Josea. If I could have done so I would never have been a doctor, but would have marked out for myself a military career, and have disported myself in the gay uniform of an officer.
My Betrothal.--Love Matches and Marriages of Convenience.--Some new Ideas picked up from my Schoolmates.--A new Lover appears upon the Field.--I Figure as a Rival to a Friend.--Love's Young Dream.--A new Way of popping the Question.--A Clandestine Marriage.--Displeasure of my Family.--Life as the Wife of an Army Officer.--The Mormon Expedition.--Birth of my first Child, and Reconciliation with my Family.--Commencement of the War between the North and South.--Death of my Children.--Resignation of my Husband from the Army.--My Determination to take Part in the coming Conflict as a Soldier.--Opposition of my Husband to my Schemes.
Some time previous to my admission to the Sisters' school, I was betrothed to a young Spaniard, Raphael R., in accordance with plans which my relatives had formed with regard to me, and without any action on my part. Indeed, my consent was not asked, my parents, thinking that they were much better qualified to arrange a suitable alliance than I was, and that, provided other things were satisfactory, love was something of minor importance, that could very well be left to take care of itself They were mistaken, however, as other parents have been in similar cases, for, like a good many girls, as soon as I was old enough to do much thinking for myself, I had no difficulty in coming to the conclusion that the choice of a husband was something I ought to have a voice in.
I had been educated under very old-fashioned ideas with regard to the duties which children owe to their parents, for, among my father's country people, children, even when they have arrived at years of discretion, are supposed to be under the authority of their father and mother, and marriages for love, having their origin in a spontaneous affection of young people for each other, are very rare. It is the custom in Spain,
and among the Spanish people in America, for the parents to make what they consider suitable matches for their children, and the young people are expected to accept any arrangement that may be concluded in their behalf, without murmuring.
This does not seem to be the proper way of conducting such an important piece of business as marriage, and it is very contrary to the notions which are common in the United States. A good deal, however, could be said in favor of it, and it is certain that quite as large a number of marriages of convenience, such as are usual in Europe, turn out happily as of the love matches which are usual in the United States. The fact is, that the majority of young people really do not know their own minds, and they often fancy themselves in love when they are not. Marriage undeceives them, and then they wish that they had exercised a little more discretion, and had not been in quite such a hurry. On the other hand, in a marriage of convenience, if the parties are at all suited to each other, and are at all disposed to make the best of the situation, they soon become affectionate, and love after marriage is, perhaps, in reality, the most likely to be enduring. As a general principle, however, there can be no doubt that a couple ought to be fond of each other before marriage, and if a young man and young woman of proper age, and with the means to start housekeeping, fall in love, and want to get married, parents do wrong to oppose them unless there are some very serious reasons for so doing.
A marriage by parental arrangement was the last thing in the world to suit a scatter-brained, romantic girl like myself, whose head was filled with all sorts of wild notions, and it is not to be wondered at, therefore, that I rebelled. When I was betrothed to Raphael, however, I had not the slightest notion of objecting; and although I did not feel a particle of affection for him, I accepted him for my future husband, as a matter of course, and received his visits with a proper degree of complacency, if not with any great demonstrations of regard.
I had not been long in the school, however, when, from my association with American girls, I obtained considerable enlightenment on a good many subjects about which I had previously been profoundly ignorant; and concerning this matter of marriage, in particular, I learned that it was not considered the correct thing at all for the parents of a young
lady to pick out a husband for her. The girls, when they found that I was betrothed without my own consent, were at a great deal of pains to inform me that this was a free country, and that one of the chief blessings of living in a free country was, that a girl could not be compelled to marry any particular man if she did not choose to do so.
This kind of talk excited me very much and I began to wish to break my engagement with Raphael, even before a rival stepped in to secure the affections which belonged to him, according to the arrangement my parents had made. I did not see my way very clear, however, and probably would have married him eventually, had not a more acceptable lover put in an appearance. Some of the girls professed to know a good deal about the law, and insisted that if my parents wished to force me to marry against my own consent, I could defy their authority, and appeal to the courts to allow me to choose a guardian. Such a course as this, however, I knew would sever me from my family; and as I had the fondest regard for my dear father and mother, I dreaded to find myself cut off, disinherited, and thrown upon the charity of strangers. I consequently took no steps to get rid of Raphael until I chanced to make the acquaintance of a young American army officer who was paying particular attention to one of my schoolmates, Nellie V.
Nellie was a beautiful girl, of about sixteen years of age, and a very warm regard subsisted between us up to the time of her discovery that I was endeavoring to capture her lover. Her affection for me did not last long after that, and she said a great many disagreeable things about me, for which I have long since forgiven her, as I doubt not she has me for running away with her handsome young officer.
He was indeed a handsome young officer, and his manly and graceful appearance, especially when attired in his brilliant uniform, made such an impression on my heart, that I soon could think of nothing else. I found now that love was a reality, and my thoughts by day and my dreams by night had no other object than the gentleman who, while paying his assiduous attentions to Nellie, never imagined what ravages he was making in the heart of her schoolmate. I learned to hate Raphael, and his attempts to make himself agreeable
to me only served to increase my dislike. Of Nellie I soon became savagely jealous, and was ready to cry with rage and vexation whenever I saw her lover paying her any delicate attentions. We, however, to all appearances, continued fast friends, it was not for several months that she discovered I was her rival. The object of my devotion was also profoundly ignorant of my feelings towards him, and I had not the courage to tell him. At length I became desperate, and determined at the earliest opportunity to acquaint the young officer with the affection I entertained for him.
The wished-for opportunity finally offered. One evening Nellie and I agreed to exchange partners, for the purpose of finding out how much they loved us. Raphael did not fancy this manoeuvre a bit, but submitted to it with as good a grace as possible. The officer and myself managed to get out of ear-shot of the other couple, but, now that the opportunity I had sighed for was mine, I was afraid to open my mouth on the subject nearest my heart. I trembled all over, but was determined before we separated to let him know the state of my heart. Finding that I had not courage to speak, I wrote a few words in his pocket diary, which told him everything.
He was intensely surprised; but he declared, with much warmth, that he had long wished to speak with me on this very matter, and would have done so, were it not that he thought I was betrothed, and that under any circumstances there would be no chance for an American to win my affections. My new lover behaved in the most honorable manner, for, as soon as he obtained my consent for him to pay his addresses, he went to my aunt, and asked permission to visit at her house. She granted his request, with the condition that he was to understand that I was betrothed, and would demean himself towards me accordingly. This condition he listened to, but with a determination to pay little heed to it, his main object being accomplished in securing the right to see me without fear of being interfered with.
When my lover began to appear at my aunt's as a pretty constant visitor, Raphael was quick to suspect him as a rival, who was more highly appreciated than himself, and became furiously jealous. I cannot tell what torture I suffered in endeavoring to be amiable to a man whom I hated, in order
that I might prevent an explosion which would deprive me of the society of the one I really loved with the most devoted fondness. Finally Raphael, unable to endure the sight of his rival constantly in attendance upon me, and evidently finding extreme favor in my eyes, prevailed upon my aunt to forbid him admittance to the house, on the plea that he was becoming altogether too intimate with the betrothed of another. This gratified Raphael's malignity, and it was a severe blow to both of us. Although we could not meet on the same pleasantly familiar terms as before, we were resolved not to be separated, for we were now too much in love to be willing to give each other up. In spite of my aunt's endeavors to keep us apart, and in spite of Raphael's jealous vigilance, William--for that was my lover's name--found means to carry on a correspondence with me, to meet me at the houses of mutual friends, and to speak to me on the street on my way to and from school. Raphael, who took pains to have us closely watched, informed my aunt of what was going on, and I was accordingly threatened with being locked up in a convent, or with being sent back to Cuba, if I did not conduct myself with more propriety. I was horror-stricken at the idea of either fate, but as I knew my aunt to be a very determined woman, who would certainly carry out her threat if I did not take measures to place it out of her power to do so, I was not long in making up my mind what course to follow, and having fixed upon a plan of action, I only awaited a suitable opportunity to put it into execution.
The opportunity I sighed for was not long in offering itself; for one evening, as I was sitting at my window, in company with a young French creole girl, I saw William pass and look up. I waved my handkerchief in salutation, and he recognized the signal by raising his cap. I then asked the young lady if she would not do me the favor of taking a letter to him, and of permitting us to have an interview at her home. She readily consented; and carrying a hastily written note to William, soon returned with an answer, to the effect that he would meet me in an hour's time. My aunt did not permit me to go out alone in the evening; but as she suspected nothing wrong in the proposed visit to my friend's house, she consented, without hesitation, for me to go under the escort of one of the servants. As my escort, of course, on our arrival at the rendezvous, remained with the servants of the
house, I was able to converse with William without fear of espial, or of being interrupted.
My lover informed me that he expected soon to be ordered to one of the frontier posts. He declared that he could not exist without me, and proposed that we should elope, and get married privately. As this was my own plan exactly, I gave my consent, without any hesitation, the moment the proposition was made. On a little reflection, however, my conscience began to trouble me, for I knew that I should not be doing right; so I told him I would prefer that he should make an open and straightforward proposition for my hand to my parents. I considered that it was a duty I owed them to ask their consent first, but promised, if they opposed the marriage, that I would not let their disapprobation interfere with the consummation of our wishes. William himself thought that this was the proper and honorable course to pursue, and he accordingly wrote to my father, and asked his permission to marry me. A reply to his request was not long forthcoming, in which he was reprimanded in very harsh terms for daring to make it, knowing me to be the betrothed of another. This settled the matter; and accordingly, on the 5th of April, 1856, we were clandestinely married.
I told no one of the step I had taken, and remained at my aunt's, on the same apparent footing as before, until the following October, meeting William privately, when I could do so without being observed, but taking more pains to prevent our interviews from being noted than I had done previous to our marriage. At length I had a furious quarrel with my aunt on account of Raphael. She reproached me in severe terms for my conduct towards him; and I replied by discarding him, and refusing to have anything more to do with him. My aunt was extremely indignant; and finding me obdurate, threatened to put me in the convent at Baton Rouge. I was terribly frightened at this, and concluded that it was time for me to act with decision. I accordingly informed my husband of the situation, and he came immediately and claimed me as his wife, presenting the certificate of marriage to my horror-stricken relative.
This was a terrible blow to my aunt, but a greater one to my parents, especially to my father, who idolized me. My
father's indignation got the better of his affection, and he promptly informed me that I might consider myself as repudiated and disinherited. The pangs this cruel message caused me were intense, but I was consoled with the lavish affection bestowed upon me by my handsome young husband, and with the thought that, in course of time, my parents would relent, and be willing to again receive me as their daughter.
With the exception of my estrangement from my family, there was but one thing that interfered with my happiness. My husband was a Protestant, and desired me to believe as he did. It required a hard struggle for me to forsake the faith in which I had been educated; but eventually I learned to think as my husband did about religious matters, and became a member of the Methodist church.
My separation from my family caused me much grief, but I tried hard not to let my husband see how much I suffered. I entered as far as possible into his thoughts and wishes, and only gratified a natural taste by giving a large portion of my time to the study of military tactics. I longed for a war to break out, and resolved that if one did occur, I would follow my husband to the battle-field, and minister to him, even if I was not allowed to fight by his side.
In 1857 there appeared to be a chance that my martial aspiration would be gratified. The government organized an expedition against the Mormons, and my husband was ordered to accompany it. In the mean time, however, I had become a mother; and much as I desired to accompany the army to Utah, I was forced to acknowledge the impracticability of a journey across the plains with an infant in my arms, and was compelled to submit to remaining behind.
When my baby came into the world I yearned more than ever to be reconciled with my family, and, with my husband's consent, wrote to my mother and to my favorite brother, who, but a few months before, had graduated with distinction from the College de France. This brother had long since forgiven me, and, in confederation with my mother, had labored to soften the heart of my father towards me. On the receipt of the letter announcing the birth of my child, and my earnest desire to be forgiven for my fault, they worked so successfully on the feelings of my father, that, after a somewhat stubborn
resistance, he yielded, and consented to have my mother and brother visit me in St. Louis. My brother, after becoming acquainted with my husband, esteemed him highly, and finally the bad feeling which had been caused by my clandestine marriage wore away, my father alone treating me with a coolness which he had never previously shown. When I met him for the first time after my marriage, he turned his cheek to me, saying, "You can never impress a kiss on my lips after a union with my country's enemy,"--from which I concluded that it was not so much my marriage without his consent, as my alliance with an American soldier that imbittered him.
After the Mormon expedition had returned, my husband met me at New Orleans, and from thence took me to Fort Leavenworth, then a remote frontier town. The living accommodations at this place were miserable, and the cooking, especially, was atrociously bad. I bore every discomfort, however, without a murmur, out of deference to my husband's feelings, and in every way endeavored to make myself as little of a burden to him as possible. In course of time I became a good American in thought and manner, and despite the inconveniences of life at a frontier post, was as happy as I could wish to be.
In the spring of 1860 I returned to St. Louis, while my husband went to Fort Arbuckle. During his separation from me, our third babe was born and died. In October of the same year he returned, having received a summons from his father--a resident of Texas--to the effect that there was reason to believe a war was about to break out between the North and the South, and desiring him to resign.
About this time my two remaining children died of fever, and my grief at their loss probably had a great influence in reviving my old notions about military glory, and of exciting anew my desires to win fame on the battle-field. I was dreadfully afraid that there would be no war, and my spirits rose and sank as the prospects of a conflict brightened or faded. When my husband's State determined to secede, I brought all my influence to bear to induce him to resign his commission in the United States army, and my persuasions, added to those of his father, finally induced him, very reluctantly, to yield. It was a great grief for him to forsake the uniform he had worn so long with honor, and to sever the bonds which existed between him and his comrades. He much doubted, too, the wisdom of the Southern States in
taking the action they did, and wished most sincerely that the political difficulties which caused their secession could be settled in some other manner than by an armed conflict.
As for me, I was perfectly wild on the subject of war; and although I did not tell my husband so, I was resolved to forsake him if he raised his sword against the South. I felt that now the great opportunity of my life had arrived, and my mind was busy night and day in planning schemes for making my name famous above that of any of the great heroines of history, not even excepting my favorite, Joan of Arc. Having decided to enter the Confederate service as a soldier, I desired, if possible, to obtain my husband's consent, but he would not listen to anything I had to say on the subject; and all I could do was to wait his departure for the seat of war, in order to put my plans into execution without his knowledge, as I felt that it would be useless to argue with him, although I was obstinately bent upon realizing the dream of my life, whether he approved of my course or not.
A Wedding Anniversary.--Preparing for my Husband's Departure for the Seat of War.--My Desire to accompany him.--His Arguments to dissuade me.--My First Appearance in Public in Male Attire.--A Bar-room Scene.--Drinking Success to the Confederacy.--My First Cigar.--A Tour of the Gambling-Houses and Drinking-Saloons.--The unpleasant Points of Camp Life set forth in strong Colors.--Departure of my Husband.--Donning Male Attire.--My First Suit of Male Clothing.--Description of my Disguise.--The Practicability of a Woman disguising herself effectively.--Some of the Features of Army Life.--What Men think of Women Soldiers.
THE fifth anniversary of our wedding was celebrated in a very quiet fashion at the old Commercial Hotel, Memphis, Tennessee. We passed the day pretty much in our own room, packing trunks and preparing for my husband's departure for Richmond, where he expected to meet some of his old army friends, such as General Robert E. Lee, General Reynolds, Captain Bernard Bee, and Captain Cabell, who had linked their fortunes with those of the South. His hardest struggle had been to throw off the uniform he had so long worn; but, that deed having once been consummated, it was not difficult for me to persuade him to offer his sword to the South, especially when so many of his old friends of the United States army were arraying themselves in antagonism to the flag under which they had once fought.
While preparing for his departure, on the anniversary of our wedding, we talked over the whole situation; and I cannot tell how proud and delighted I felt when he attired himself in his elegant new gray uniform. He never looked handsomer
in his life, and I not only gave full vent to my admiration, but insisted upon broaching my favorite scheme again. My husband desired me to go to Galveston, and to write to my father to meet me there; but my heart was set upon accompanying him to the seat of war, and I would listen to no other arrangement. He used every possible argument to dissuade me from my purpose, representing the difficulties and dangers in the darkest colors, and contending that it would be impossible for him to permit his wife to follow an undisciplined army of volunteers. The situation, he told me, was entirely different from anything I had ever been accustomed to, and that the hordes of rude, coarse men collected together in a camp in an emergency like this, would have but little resemblance to the regular troops in garrison with whom I had been familiar; and that a delicately nurtured and refined woman would find camp life, during such a war as that just commencing, simply intolerable. He was not to be persuaded, while I turned a deaf ear to all his remonstrances, and persisted in arguing the point with him to the last.
Finally, my husband, finding that his words made no impression, thought he would be able to cure me of my erratic fancies by giving me an insight into some of the least pleasing features of masculine life. The night before his departure, therefore, he permitted me to dress myself in one of his suits, and said he would take me to the bar-rooms and other places of male resort, and show me something of what I would be compelled to go through with if I persisted in unsexing myself. Braiding my hair very close, I put on a man's wig, and a false mustache, and by tucking my pantaloons in my boots, as I had seen men do frequently, and otherwise arranging the garments, which were somewhat large for me, I managed to transform myself into a very presentable man. As I surveyed myself in the mirror I was immensely pleased with the figure I cut, and fancied that I made quite as good looking a man as my husband. My toilet once completed, it was not long before we were in the street, I doing my best to walk with a masculine gait, and to behave as if I had been accustomed to wear pantaloons all my life. I confess, that when it actually came to the point of appearing in public in this sort of attire, my heart began to fail me a little; but I was bent on going
through with the thing, and so, plucking up courage, I strode along by the side of my husband with as unconcerned an air as it was possible for me to put on.
Presently we crossed over to a bar-room, which we found nearly filled with men smokin