Cahaba

Front matter

^ 3

JESSE HAWKS, M.D.

CAHABA.

Chapter I

Cahaba, the First Capital of Alabama, a Centre of Culture, Wealth, and Energy — Its Natural Advantages — The Removal of the Capital, Followed by the Decay of the Town — Its Condition To-Day i

Chapter II

Castle Morgan — An Old Cotton Shed, Dilapidated and Unused — Named for the Kentucky Raider — Its Dimensions — Report of Confederate Surgeon Whitfield UPON its Crowded Condition and its Abominable Water — The Confederate Inspector-General Chilton ALSO Enters a Complaint Regarding the Management AND Abuses of the Prison — Inmates of the Prison WHEN THE Author Entered — Majority Captured from the Command of Sturgis 12

Chapter III

Military Operations in the Southwest — Sherman— Sooy Smith — Banks — Sturgis — Battle of Guntown — The Wretched Criminal Management of Sturgis Insures Defeat 22

Chapter IV

The Experience of a Wounded Man on the Retreat from Guntown — Recaptured— Sent to Mobile and Cahaba. 34

Vlll CONTENTS.

Chapter V. Page

The Defeat of Sturgis a Bitter Surprise to Every One— A. J. Smith Sent Against Forrest — The Enemy Met at Pontotoc — Charge of a Portion of the Ninth Illinois Cavalry Against Three Confederate Brigades — Capture of Author 55

Chapter VI

Confederates Deceived as to the Number of their Assailants — Taken to the Confederate Commander — The Provost Guard 65

Chapter VII

The Provost Guard Proceed to Take an Inventory of the Prisoner's Personal Property— He Receives Many Undesirable Attentions— Remarkable Instinct of the Average Provost Guard— Another "Boy in Blue" — Misery Loves Company— Taken to the Rear of the Battlefield of Tupelo 79

Chapter XVI

Food at Castle Morgan — Decayed Beef— Poor Quality of Meal — A Confederate Inspector-General is Indignant AT THE Food Furnished to Captives There— Report of Confederate Inspector-General Chandler — He Calls Attention to the Abundance of Food — Remenyi Eclipsed— Rats— Lice 200

Chapter XXI

The Guards at Castle Morgan— The Modern River Styx — The Author's Life Spared by an Old Conscript — Hankins— He Kills Three Men in Six Days—" Little Charley" — Mrs. Amanda Gardner ... 261

CHAPTER XXIL

Sent to Meridian— Gere — Unable to Walk — A Biped Burro — E VERY-DAY Life at Meridian 276

Chapter XXXII

Jacob W. Rush — A Rough Joke is the Means of His Being Among the Conspirators — Sergeant Dillon, of Ninth Illinois Cavalry— D. M. Maxon, of Second Michigan Cavalry — How Men Faced What Seemed Almost Certain Death 393

Chapter Xxxviii

Leave your Blankets — At Selma — Five ^Dollars ■ for an Egg— Jackson, Miss. — Crossing Black River— Under the Stars and Stripes — Farewell to Comrades 463

INTRODUCTORY.

NO war of modern times has been more important to the people engaged in it, to their present and especially their future, than our war of the Rebellion. No war was ever so productive of histories and narratives by its participants, and it is equally certain that no histories or reminiscences are so eagerly read by the people of our country as are those based upon our great conflict of a quarter of a century ago.

Every chapter that can throw any light upon the actors and scenes of those disturbed and anxious times possesses a most fascinating interest to the generation that has grown up since the contest ceased, as well as to those whose memory extends through the whole period of its existence.

A truthful index of this feeling is the fact that the most rapid growth made by any large periodical in America dates from the time of its entering upon the publication of a series of articles written by the most prominent Federal and Confederate leaders and devoted to the actions in which they took a part.

XIV IN TR OD UC TOR V.

To satisfy this intellectual hunger and thirst for information, a history of every large army has been written, a chronicle of every important campaign, a narration of every prominent battle. Reminiscences of several of the great prisons of the South and North have appeared, and have been of the most absorbing interest. The consideration given to the history of our country should be regarded with pleasure by every patriotic person, for a knowledge of history teaches patriotism. Those who cherished a strong regard for the unity and perpetuity of our nation before its life was so seriously threatened have esteemed it of greater value since — its value has been enhanced by its cost. Every life sacrificed, every limb lost, every hour of pain or anguish, every day passed in the gloom of the prison by those who sought to preserve the nation from destruction, made it of more value to its admirers, and a record of the facts are a proper sequel to the facts themselves.

One large prison of the Confederacy, so far, has been but barely mentioned — that at Cahaba (pronounced Ca-ha\v-bah), Ala. In a report upon the prisons of the Confederacy, made by a Congressional committee shortly after the close of the Rebellion, less than five pages are to be found relative to Cahaba, and of these the greater part are transcribed reports from Confederate archives.

To fill in this important chapter in the history

IN TROD UCTOR Y. XV

of the great struggle for the preservation of the Union is the object of this volume. Incidentally, the pages following are an humble monument to the endurance, the patience, the fortitude, the unswerving loyalty and patriotism of that class of men who, numerically, constituted the great mass of the army — its non-commissioned officers and privates.

The virtues and courage and intellect and strategy of our leaders have been painted in the brightest colors (though, in the estimation of us, their followers, none too bright), and we would add to, not detract from their fame, so richly merited. But the heroism, endurance, and steadfastness of those humbler actors in the great drama — that fearful tragedy — have never been so conspicuously portrayed. The sacrifice made by them, by reason of their youth on entering the service, was often incalculable in amount. A large quota of their numbers left the school-room to don the blue of the soldier. Had they been older, the foundation by education for a more useful life had been laid, and their losses from this source less. It was a great sacrifice to exchange the four years planned to be passed in college for the four years in military camps. It was a sacrifice, too, of no small amount to give up for a time one's personal identity. The civil law regards one man as the equal of another and every man a sovereign ; military law compels the private soldier to become an unreasoning part of a

XVI IN TR OD UC TOR V.

great machine, known by a number, not to think — to do as ordered only.

"Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die."

When captivity became the common lot of the soldier with rank and the soldier without, the commissioned chieftain was given his parole and granted a semi-freedom, while his humbler followers were hurried to the stockade and guarded enclosure already crowded.

These facts are recalled in no spirit of fault-finding or hateful cynicism ; they were inevitable and could not be changed ; not even the humblest, thoughtful private should for a moment wish them changed ; but a recollection of these" facts fills us with gratitude toward those who so patiently bore their self-imposed burdens, and the glow of an honest pride may properly flush the cheek of him who, as a boy or man, was the private soldier twenty-five years ago.

The intelligent private soldier early in his military life knew what captivity implied to him, and any record which truthfully tells of how he bore its ills, with not a murmur against his Government, with no thought of deserting his standard, when the inducements for doing so were so great, is a worthy monument to his steadfastness and an index of the stern

INTR OD UC TOR Y. X V 1 1

Stuff of which the common soldiers of our army were composed.

We would emphatically assert that the story of misery and wretchedness and long suffering, which necessarily is a prominent feature in the history of any prison, is not intended to awaken the animosities of other times. Such an object, even if desired, can never be and should never be attained. " The war is over," and with the great majority of those who in it were actors, North and South, I trust — as it is with the writer of this — the spirit of vengeance is dead, and has been so long buried as to have changed to something nobler.

This is simply history, with no partisan object, no vindictive purpose, no desire to reflect upon the honesty of purpose of the great masses of people who offered their lives in defence of the doctrine of State Rights. The results of the war, the logic of events, the strong personal friendships and high esteem grown up between a multitude of individuals who were formerly contestants, the long years that have elapsed, have rendered acrimonious discussion out of place. The men of the North and South who risked 7nost in the great war have little desire to fight over the battles of their younger days. The majority of the Southern men who were "in the trenches" I believe are satisfied, some perhaps are even glad, that their efforts were not crowned with success ; and while their average North-

XVill INTRODUCTORY.

ern former adversary does not underestimate the grandeur of the cause for which he fought, he is glad to meet them more than half way on the plane of reconciliation, and hopes the future shall see both " touching elbows " in the work of building up a great and noble nation.

C A H A B A.

Chapter I. Cahaba, The First Capital Of Alabama, A Centre

OF CULTURE, WEALTH, AND ENERGY ITS NATURAL

ADVANTAGES THE REMOVAL OF THE CAPITAL,

FOLLOWED BY THE DECAY OF THE TOWN ITS

CONDITION TO-DAY.

A HISTORY of Cahaba can be now written which shall embrace its whole life, for within the Span of this century it has arisen, flourished, and decayed. Cahaba to-day is a city of the past — only ruins are left to mark its site.

Sixty-eig'ht years ago, when the State of Alabama was admitted into the Union, a site for the capital was selected on the west bank of the Alabama River, a hundred and thirty miles northeast from Mobile, fifty miles southwest from Montgomery. This place, situated at the point where the Alabama and Cahaba

rivers unite, was called Cahaba. It was also made

I the seat of Dallas County, a vast fertile territory of nine hundred and fifty square miles. Here were elements of prosperity — two navigable rivers, a great rich country, and a delightful climate. Cahaba was fast to improve. Streets were laid out, pavements put down, a State-house, Governor's mansion, court-house, and jail erected. Residences, business houses, hotels, warehouses, schools, churches, a Masonic lodge -room, theatre, and bank followed in rapid succession. Artesian wells were bored and bridges built, and a railroad and telegraph added to the grandeur of the brilliant young capital. Accomplished professors, doctors of divinity, skilled physicians, profound lawyers, astute politicians, gifted editors, and live merchants sprang up, as if Cahaba was the creature of Aladdin's lamp. And there were typical planters with scores of plantations and thousands of slaves worth millions of money. Here came ambitious senators and representatives from all parts of the State to make laws and perform other and various duties for their country's good, and learned lawyers to further their clients' causes in the State courts. Society people came to enjoy the pleasures of the place. Gorgeous carriages with liveried servants sped along the streets bearing occupants dressed in " purple and fine linen." Grand balls and luxuriant banquets succeeded each other. Massive wagons, groaning under the weight of plantation products, poured in from every direction ; palatial steamers dis-

BRILLIANT CAHABA. 3

charged cargoes of rich merchandise at the wharf, and went away loaded down with cotton.

Cahaba grew to be five thousand strong, and a centre of politics, of law, of learning, of religion, of trade, of agriculture, and of fashion. Cahaba had a proud career for forty years — flashed upon the world like a meteor, rushed along a blazing path, and passed away forever.

Cahaba's bar was an enviable one. In its early days were such prominent men as Reuben Safford, sixteen years on the Supreme Bench, and finally Chief Justice ; Horatio G. Perry, Judge of the Circuit Court and State Senator ; G. W. Gayle, United States District-Attorney and member of the House ; Jesse Beene, member of the House ; Robert S. Hatcher, Senator and member of the House ; George R. Evans, member of the House; and Colonel Lawrence E. Dawson, one of the brightest men in the State. Later along was the distinguished William L. Yancey, member of Congress, framer of the articles of secession, Confederate Minister to Great Britain, and member of the Confederate Senate. And along with him were C. C. Pegues, Colonel of the Fifth Alabama Infantry, killed at Gaines Mill, Va. ; John S. Hunter, Judge of the Circuit Court, member of the House and of the Senate, and an orator of considerable note ; P. P. Wood, present Judge of the Probate Court ; Brigadier-General John Tyler Morgan, now United States

Senator; Judge James L. Evans, Thomas J. Portis, Jay Gould's attorney in St. Louis; Judge B. F. Saffold, of the Supreme Court ; Colonel David S. Troy, now of the Montgomery bar ; Judge Raynor, Brigadier-General Edmund W. Pettus, C. A. S., and Colonel N. PL R. Dawson, late Speaker of the Alabama House of Representatives. The last two mentioned were partners, and are now practising together in Selma. General Pettus will be remembered in connection with the fall of Vicksburg. Colonel Dawson married a daughter of the late Robert S. Todd, of Lexington, Ky., and in consequence was a brother-inlaw of President Lincoln and of General Benjamin Hardin Helm.

Among the physicians were the learned Dr. E. G. Ulmer, who wrote a valuable work on malaria, and the equally able Drs. Hustis and Enghsh, and Dr. Thomas Casey, nine years a State Senator. Dr. Saltmarsh was a wealthy citizen and Register of the Land Office.

The list of opulent planters embraced Joel E. Matthews, who owned one thousand slaves and was \Vorth more than one million dollars ; his brother, Charles L. Matthews, a millionaire, and two other brothers, both of whom were wealthy; Hon. Robert S. Hatcher, and many others.

Edward M. Perine was the merchant prince of the place, but Colonel Samuel M. Hill and others occupied high rnercantile positions.

HER EMINENT CITIZENS. 5

The ministry did not suffer in comparison with the other professions and other callings. Dr. Smythe was a prominent Presbyterian divine, and Rev. J. L. Cotton stood high in the Methodist pulpit. The well- ^ known George F. Cushman, D.D., now of New York, was rector of the Episcopal Church. This church was erected after plans by Mr. Upjohn, a New York architect ; had stained-glass windows and a fine organ. The first church built in Cahaba was the Pantheon, in which all denominations worshipped, but was early succeeded by Presbyterian, Methodist, and Episcopal churches. The Female Academy cost twenty thousand dollars. Of the several newspapers, the Dallas Gazette ranked highest; and Hon. Jesse Beene and Hon. William L. Yancey were the foremost editors.

Frederick Wolfe was a resident of Cahaba — he is now the manager of the powerful Ehrlanger railroad ■ syndicate in the United States.

The residences of Cahaba were, many of them, costly ones. The Crocheron House cost ten thousand dollars, the Barker House twenty thousand dollars, and the Ferine mansion fifty-five or sixty thousand dollars. These three yet stand, but a number of other important ones have been pulled down.

An artesian well in the yard of the Ferine house is twelve inches in diameter and eight hundred feet deep. It was a wonder in its day, spouting like the

Beehive geyser of Yellowstone Park. Sir Charles Lyell, the geologist, made a visit to Cahaba to see this well, while on a tour of the United States ; and Millard Fillmore also came to see it. This well was bored for a factory, but the idea of a factory was abandoned. It yet flows, as also does a smaller one near it.

The Dallas Hotel ranked with the best in the South.

The telegraph line was the first erected in the State. It came from Mobile and continued to Montgomery. The people of Selma, eight miles distant, were for years compelled to come here to send a telegram.

Seven years had scarcely elapsed when the capital was removed. Railroads were built that cut off her support. Selma grew up and drew away much of Ca- • haba's business and population, and even many of the fine houses were removed thither. The city dwindled to a lifeless village, and as such the war of 1861 found it. A slightly increased activity was given it in 1863, when the old brick cotton shed of Colonel Samuel M. Hill was transformed into a prison for captured Federals, and a small body of Confederate troops were stationed there as prison guards.

It remained the county seat of Dallas County, however, until 1866, when that prestige was taken from it and removed, like so many others preceding it, to Selma; then the last vestige of

CAHABA TO- DA V. y

its former splendor and activity departed. To-dayonly two or three poor white families and a few negroes are the representatives of Alabama's first capital.

Let us visit it to-day — twenty-two years after the close of the war.

Here we are at the crossing of Main and First streets. Look around you. See yon broken columns and shattered pilasters like unto ancient Thebes ? The grass, the briers, and the weeds grow in the streets and the pavements are sunken. Here on the corner is a little store, and another small one kept by a blind man. Across there is a corn-mill in the court-house, and this is all there is of Cahaba's business. Perhaps two dozen people in all are left of that splendid array of five thousand that lived here in the long ago. But behold the remainder of that block. Look at the long row of closed doors and barred shutters. Those counters and shelves within that once held costly wares and fabrics now hold but dust. Those stairways that led up to offices of profound jurists and able journalists are vacant and decayed. Turn your eyes to the other side of the street. A mass of debris /

There stands a lazy mule, with ragged saddle, in front of what was once a merchant's palace, where of old were wont to stand royal carriages with spirited teams. Now let us walk down Main Street. On the left there is the court-house. It has grown old. An ugly smoke-stack protrudes from the roof. Where the gifted sons of Solon, Justinian, and Blackstone discharged volumes of forensic lore at inteUigent juries, and grave judges sat with solemn mien, now harshly whir the noisy wheels. That rubbish in the rear is what remains of a strong jail. Let us proceed. Here in the street is an artesian well, still pouring forth its water. Taste of the water ; 'tis mawkish and sulphurous ; it suggests that even the crust of earth beneath the dead city is stricken with decay. On the corner here to the right you can see a faint trace of the famous Dallas Hotel. What broad proportions ! But its towering form, pompous proprietor, tapestried halls, glittering plate, white-aproned servants, and crowds of guests are gone. Out on Second Street, there you see the theatre in process of demolition ; and the Masonic lodge-room is soon to share the same fate. Now we go farther. Here is a man ploughing in an old yard. In that yard once stood the pretentious residence of Dr. Ulmer, the skilled surgeon. Over on the left you see a grove of cedars. Among them stood the Episcopal Church, a model of architectural beauty. It has been removed — taken away to a distant village. Now we come to the grassgrown grade of the railroad. The depot down by the wharf is no more ; the telegraph line pulled down, the ties rotted, the trestle-work fallen, and the rails hauled

A PALACE IN RUINS. 9

to Other fields. Yes, six or eight miles of the track, out to the junction westward, were literally torn up and that much of the road abandoned. An old blind horse nips scanty grass where the iron horse used to rush along.

A few steps more and we have reached the site of the State-house. Long years ago it was pulled down. Listen to the weird clank of that old cowbell where once poured forth the enchanting notes of the silverytongued orators. What a fall was there ! what a leap from the sublime to the ridiculous !

But we pass on by a tumbled-down school-house, by ruins and remains, by those stately pines, along that avenue of oaks, over yon viaduct and into the spacious grounds that surround the stately edifice that looms up like some castle on the Rhine. It is the Ferine mansion, a place once owned by a merchant prince, who, stripped of fortune and of friends, now clerks in a store elsewhere on a precarious salary, while his castle is owned by Eastern creditors. We are at the gate ; but oh, what a change from the palace that was reared within the memory of that old white-haired negro who is dozing and smoking in the cool shade yonder. The fence is dilapidated, the gate creaks sullenly ajar, the drives and walks, once pebbled, curbed, and hedged, are now but dim outlines in the weeds. The holly, the pomegranate, the mock-orange, the myrtle, and the magnolia are overwhelmed by lO CAHABA.'

baser growths. We reach the door and stand on the broken pavement before the moss-grown marble steps, at the foot of the ivy-clung, balconied tower. We ascend the steps and touch the pearl-handled bell that you may hear its musical tones, for there is none to answer it. We enter. What vacancy, what silence ! How hollow our footsteps reverberate through the frescoed halls ! Rooms, rooms, a labyrinth of rooms ! Come into the parlor — a grand double parlor with sixteen hundred square feet of floor, divided by folding-doors, Corinthian columns, and panels of exquisite workmanship. Look upon these lovely marble mantels carved in Italy, and glance up at the beautiful ceilings. Within these gay walls, upon this expanse of floor, the devotees of Terpsichore moved to the voluptuous swell of an orchestra's music. Friends of the owner came by the score and remained by the week, as was the Southern custom, for in those days he " bore a bounteous purse." Now we go through corridors, by niches, nooks, alcoves, and colonnades to the rear portico. The light streams in through the ground-glass panes as we approach the door. A friendly ash stretches its limbs half across the portico. We pause to glance at the waters from the mammoth artesian w^ell as they meander down a serpentine outlet through what was once a handsome flowergarden. The flower-pit, so empty, seems like a deserted tomb. There stand the servants' quarters and

A SCENE OF DESOLA TION. I I

carriage-house and stables. But let us re-enter and wend our way into the dining-hall and into the pantries, where were stored the luxuries of a lordly table. All are deserted. There goes an owl through a broken window and here clings a bat. There in the kitchen is the gigantic range still intact. Now must we find our way up one of the several stairways, through numerous chambers, over piles of plaster fallen from decayed ceilings, and go into the tower. Now by a flight of steps we climb higher, where twelve massive chimneys with gilded rods rear their proud forms like giant guardians with spears. Up, up to the tower's top. Grand but melancholy view ! The placid Alabama " goes on forever," but her proud steamers know no longer the wharf. The deep and sullen Cahaba runs yet the same, but its bridge is down. Spires and towers and domes point heavenward, but their bells are hushed. Churches and schools and residences and storehouses stand there as of yore, but their once bright roofs are dull with rust. Streets and drives and walks are visible, but no one moves therein.

Such is Cahaba to-day.

Cahaba is dead. Will a day of resurrection ever come to her?

To one who visited the place but recently am I indebted for a picture of her in her loneliness.

Chapter II. Castle Morgan An Old Cotton Shed, Dilapidated

AND UNUSED NAMED FOR THE KENTUCKY RAIDER

ITS DIMENSIONS — REPORT OF CONFEDERATE SUR- GEON WHITFIELD UPON ITS CROWDED CONDITION

AND ITS ABOMINABLE WATER THE CONFEDERATE

INSPECTOR-GENERAL CHILTON ALSO ENTERS A COMPLAINT REGARDING THE MANAGEMENT AND

ABUSES OF THE PRISON INMATES OF THE PRISON

WHEN THE AUTHOR ENTERED MAJORITY CAP- TURED FROM THE COMMAND OF STURGIS.

WHILE Castle Morgan — the name given to the prison at Cahaba, in honor of the daring Confederate raider — may have been used in emergencies as early as 1862 for the retention of small squads of Federal prisoners, I have been able to find in the official papers of the Confederate Government no mention of it earlier than the fall of 1863. The idea of locating the great prison of the South at Cahaba, Ala., instead of Andersonville, Ga., had been advocated by a few Confederate leaders, but at the time a location was decided upon, Andersonville was the most secure place in the South.

DESCRIPTION OF CAS TIE MORGAN.

The prison had been an old cotton and corn shed — the property of Colonel Samuel Hill — located but a rod or two from the banks of the Alabama River.

Colonel Hill, in the palmy days of Alabama's first capital, had been one of the leading merchants of the city, and had used the building in carrying on his lucrative business, but for many years previous to the civil war Cahaba, as a business centre, had been abandoned. The large warehouse was unused, except as a refuge for troops of gigantic rats, whose ancestors had kept their homes for many years within and beneath the walls of the building.

The walls of the structure were about fourteen feet high, thick and strong. A roof at one time had covered all portions of it, but the warring elements had stripped half of the roof away and had corroded innumerable holes through the remainder. It had been so long unused, that there was no incentive to repair the damage done by the years of rain and wind and sun. So poor were the accommodations it offered to its inmates, that as late as March, 1864, the Confederate Surgeon, R. M. Whitfield, who was in charge of the prison, in making his monthly report to the Medical Director, P. B. Scott, M.D., at Demopolis,used the following language : " I have the honor to transmit to you with this my monthly report. When you know the sanitary condition of the prison you cannot be surprised at the large number of cases reported. A brick wall covered by a leaky roof, with sixteen hundred feet of open space in its centre, four open windows, and the earth for the floor, constitutes the prison."

Concerning the size of this building I have found in Confederate reports upon prisons a considerable discrepancy, and desirous of being exact in the matter, a few years ago I wrote to a former inhabitant of Cahaba, an ex-Confederate, of whose honor, truth, and carefulness there could be no question, requesting that a careful measurement of the building should be made, and in reply was told that an exact measurement gave as its length one hundred and ninety-three (193) feet, its breadth one hundred and sixteen (116) feet, measured on the outside. I was informed that the building had been largely torn down, but of its foundation enough remained to leave no question regarding the surface it enclosed.

A little more than one half of the roof remained on the building through the last years of the war, and while it protected a portion of its inmates from the sultry summer's sun it was but an indifferent protection in many places from the numerous cold rains of winter.

In the early part of 1864, in February or March, five or six large multiple bunks were placed in the prison. These, by most of our men, were called not bunks, but " roosts," as they presented to their occupants about the same comforts that dhicken roosts

CASTLE MORGAN'S '' ROOSTSr I 5

would give. Each roost consisted of four or five tiers of rough boards placed one above the other, with spaces between each tier of about thirty inches. The upright timbers of the roosts were four inches square, ten feet long, and separated from each other about seven feet. These upright pieces were fastened to each other by cross-pieces, and upon this framework were laid the rough boards upon which the men were to sleep. There was neither straw nor bedding of any kind. In the report of Dr. Whitfield, quoted from above, he states that through the winter of 1863 and 1864 the prisoners would average about two blankets to each five men, but through the following winter this estimate would be excessive. Upon each roost, packed like sardines in a box, could be stowed away from sixty to eighty men, according to the height and length of the roost. During the summer of 1864 there were added to the number of the roosts enough to make them nine in all, and capable of furnishing lying-down room to about six hundred persons. During the winter of 1864 and 1865 the remaining twenty-five hundred made their beds upon the ground.