Life in Dixie during the war. 1863-1864-1865.

Introduction

I am asked to write a few words of iutroduction to these reminiscences of a lady who, in the pleasant afternoon of a life devoted to deeds of mercy and charity, turns fondly and sympathetically to the past. But there is nothing to be said. What word of mine could add to the interest that inheres in this unpretentious record of a troubled and bloody period? The chronicle speaks for itself, especially to those who remember something of those wonderful days of war. It has the charm and the distinction of absolute verity, a quality for which we may look in vain in more elaborate and ambitious publications. Here, indeed, is one of the sources from which history must get its supplies, and it is informed with a simplicity which history can never hope to attain.

We have here reproduced in these records, with a faithfulness that is amazing, the spirit of those dark days that are no more. Tragedy shakes hands with what seems to be trivial, and the commonplaces of every day life seem to move forward with the gray battalions that went forth to war.

It is a gentle, a faithful and a tender hand that guides the pen — a soul nerved to sacrifice that tells the tale. For the rest, let the records speak for themselves.

Joel Chandler Harris.

Preface

By way of preface to "Life in Dixie During the War/' I scarcely know what to say. I have long felt that it was the duty of the South to bequeath to posterity the traditions of that period; for if we do it not ourselves they will be swallowed up in oblivion. Entertaining this opinion, I have essayed the task of an individual effort, and hope that others may follow my example.

No woman who has seen what I have seen, and felt what I have felt, would be apt to write with less asperity ; and yet, now that we have come back to the United States, and mean to stay in it, let the provocation to depart be what it may, I would not put into practice an iota of the war-time feeling. In thus expressing myself I am sure I represent every Christian in my own beautiful Southland.

There was one for whom these sketches would have had a special interest. An inspiring motive for writing them was that they would be read by my nephew, Thomas H. Stokes, of Atlanta, the only child of the brother so often mentioned. But, ere he had had more than a glimpse of them, he was called away by an Inscrutable Providence, in his jDure and beautiful young manhood, as we trust, to a Land of Peace more in keeping with his noble, true and tender heart than earth, with its sin and strife. '^Blessed are the pure in heart; for they shall see God."

Life in Dixie During the War,

Chapter I

Coming home from Camp Chase— The faithful servant's gift — A glimpse of Confederate braves.

"A LETTER from Marse Thomie/' said our mail-carrier, Toby, as he got in speaking distance on his return from the post-office.

^^AYhat makes you think so?'^ I said, excitedly.

"I know his hand-write, and this is it," he said, selecting a letter from a large package and handing it to me. The very first glimpse of the superscription assured me of the correctness of his confident assertion.

The letter was addressed to our mother, and bore a United States postage stamp, and the beloved signature of her only sou, Thomas J. Stokes. A thrill of gratitude and joy filled our hearts too full for utterance, as we read:

''My Dear Mother: I have learued that the soldiers of the 10th Texas Infantry will be exchanged for United States troops very soon, ])erha])s to-morrow; and then, what happiness will be mine! I can scarcely wait its realization. A visit home^ a mother's embrace and kiss, the heart-felt manifestations of the love of two fond sisters, and the joy and glad expression of faithful servants. I may bring several friends with me, whom I know yon will welcome, both for my sake and theirs — they are valiant defenders of the cause we love. Adieu, dear mother, and sisters, until I see you at home, Miome, sweet home.'''

"Thomie is coming home!" ^'Thomie Stokes is coming home ! " was the glad announcement of mother, sisters, and friends; and the servants took up the intelligence, and told everybody that Marse Thomie was coming home, and was going to bring some soldiers with him.

Another day dawned, and love's labor commenced in earnest. Doors were opened, and rooms ventilated; bed-clothing aired and sunned, and dusting brushes and brooms in willing hands removed every particle of that much dreaded material of which man in all his glory, or ignominy, was created. Furniture and picture frames Avere polished and artistically arranged. And we beheld the work of the first day, and it was good.

When another day dawned we were up with the lark, and his matin notes found responsive melody in our hearts, the sweet refrain of which was, "Thomie is coming," — the soldier son and brother. Lightbread and rolls, rusks and pies, cakes; -etc., etc., were baked, and sweetmeats prepared, and another day's work was ended and pronounced satisfactory.

The third clay, for a generous bonus, '^ Uncle Mack's'' services were secured, and a fine pig was slaughtered and prepared for the ov^en, and also a couple of young hens, and many other luxuries -too numerous to mention.

When all was ready for the feast of thanksgiving for the return of the loved one, the waiting seemed interminable. There was pathos in every look, tone, and act of our mother — the lingering look at the calendar, the frequent glance at the clock, told that the days were counted, yea, that the hours were numbered. At length the weary v^^aiting ended, and the joyous meeting came of mother and son, of sisteis and brother, after a separation of four years of health and sickness, of joy and anguish, of hope and fear.

As we stood upon the platform of the Decatur depot, and saw him step from the train, which we had been told by telegram would bring him to us, our hearts were filled w^th consternation and pity, and tears unbidden coursed down our cheeks, as we looked upon the brave and gallant brother, who had nowgiven three years of his early manhood to a cause rendered dear by inheritance and the highest principles of patriotism, and, in doing so, had himself become a physical wreck. He was lean to emaciation, and in his pale face was not a suggestion of the ruddy color he had carried away. A constant cough, which he tried in vain to repress, betrayed the deep inroads which prison life had made upon his system ; and, in this respect he represented his friends — in

10 LIFE IN BIX^E

describing his appearance, we leave nothing untold about theirs. In war-worn pants and faded grey coats, they presented a spectacle never to be forgotten.

Joy and grief contended for the supremacy. We did not realize that even a brief period of good nursing and feeding would work a great change in the physical being of men just out of the prison pens of the frigid North, and wept to think that disease, apparently so deeply rooted, could not be cured, and that they were restored to us but to die. Perceiving our grief and divining the cause, our Thomie took us, our mother first, into his arms and kissed us, and said, in his old-time way, ''FU be all right soon."

And Toby and Telitha, the house servants, came in for their share of kindly greeting.

Thomie then introduced us to Captain Lauderdale, Captain Formwalt, and Lieutenant McMurray, his Texas friends and comrades in arms. Our cordial, heart-felt welcome was appreciated by this trio of gentlemen, and to this day we receive from them messages of abiding friendship. Captain Lauderdale was one of the most perfect gentlemen I ever saw — tall, graceful, erect, and finely formed. His face, of Grecian mould, was faultless; and his hair, black as a raven's plumage, and interspersed with grey, would have adorned the head of a king. His bearing was dignified and yet affable, and so polished and easy in manner as to invite most friendly intercourse.

Captain Formwalt was also a fine specimen of manhood — free and easy, gay and rollicking. He seemed

DURINQ THE WAB. 11

to thiuk his mission on earth was to bring cheerfulness and glee into every household he entered.

Lieutenant McMurray was unlike either of his friends. Apparently cold, apathetic and reserved, he repelled all advances tending to cordial relations, until well acquainted, after which he was metamorphosed into a kind and genial gentleman.

Thomie, dear Thomie, was a boy again, and while our guests were refreshing themselves preparatory to dinner, he was going all over the house, for every nook and corner was endeared by association. He opened the piano, and running his fingers over the keys, with the grace and ease of his boyhood, he played accompaniments to his favorite songs, <'Home Again,'' and '^ Way Down Upon the Suwanee River," trying to sing, but prevented by the irrepressible coughing. Then, with nervous hand, he assayed "When this Cruel War is Over." Turning away from the piano, he went to the library, and handled with tender care the books he had read in boyhood. Shakespeare, Milton, Byron and Moore possessed no interest for him now ; and Blackstone and Chitty were equally ignored. The books his mother and sister read to him in his childhood were, as it by intuition, selected, and fondly conned and handled. His own name was written in them, and his tearful eyes lingered long and lovingly upon these reminders of boyhood's happy hours. With a sigh he left the library, and espying Toby, wiio kept where he could see as much as possible of "Marse Thomie," he called the boy and held an encouraging little conversation with him.

Dinner being ready, our mother led the way to the dining room. Our guests having taken the seats assigned them, Thomie took his near his mother — his boyhood's seat at table. By request. Captain Lauderdale asked the blessing. And, oh, what a blessing he invoked upon the "dear ones who, with loving hands, 'prepared this feast for the son and brother of the household, and for his friends in peace and comrades in war." Pleasant conversation ensued, and all enjoyed the repast. But the gentlemen seemed to us to eat very little, and, in reply to our expression of disappointment, they explained the importance of limiting themselves for several days in this respect.

As there was no trunk to send for, and no valise to carry, we rightly surmised that the clothing of these good men was limited to the apparel in which they were clad, and it was decided by my mother and myself that I should go to Atlanta and get material for a suit of clothes for Thomie, and good warm underclothing for them all. Arrived at Atlanta, I was irresistably led by that mystic power, which has often controlled for good results the acts of man, to go to Dr. Taylor's drug store. Here I found King, our faithful negro man, as busy as a bee, labeling and packing medicine for shipment. I approached him and said:

''King, Thomie has come."

''Marse Thomie?"

DUEINO THE WAR. 13

'^ Thank God/' he said, with fervor.

When I was about leaving the store, he said:

"Miss Mary, just wait a minute, please, and I will get something that I want you to take to Marse Thomie, and tell him I don't want him to be hurt with me for sending it to him. I just send it because I love him — me and him was boys together, you know, and I always thought he ought to 'er took me with him to the war."

^^What is it. King?"

'^ Just a little article I got in trade. Miss Mary," was all the satisfaction he vouchsafed.

When he handed it to me, knowing by the sense of touch that it was a package of dry goods, I took it to Mrs. O'Connor's millinery establishment, and asked the privilege of opening it there. Imagine my astonishment and delight, when I beheld a pattern of fine grey cassimere. I felt of it, and held it up between my eyes and the light. There was nothing shoddy about it. It was indeed a piece of fine cassimere, finer and better than anything I could have procured in Atlanta at that time. The circumstance was suggestive of Elijah and the ravens, and I thanked God for the gift so opportune, and lost no time in returning to the drug store, and thanking King, the raven employed by the Lord to clothe one of His little ones. Nor did I lose any time in adding to the package other articles of necessity, flannel and the best Georgia made homespun I could procure, and was then ready to take the return train to Decatur. Thomie was deeply touched by the opportune gift, and said that King was a great boy, and that he must see him.

After supper I clandestinely left the house, and ran around to Todd McAllister's and begged him to take the job of making the suit. He agreed to cut the coat, vest and pantaloons by measure, and for that purpose went home with me, shears and tape measure in hand. Having finished this important part of the job, he told me he could not make the suit himself, but he thought if I would "talk right pretty to the old lady,'' she would do it. Next morning I lost no time in "talking pretty" to the old lady, and, having secured her promise to undertake the work, it was soon in her hands. With the help of faithful, efficient women, and I suspect of her husband, too, the job was executed surprisingly soon. In the meantime the making of flannel garments, and homespun shirts with bosoms made of linen pillow cases, was progressing with remarkable celerity.

When all was finished, and Thomie was arrayed in his new suit, which set admirably well — notwithstanding the room allowed for increasing dimensions, which we doubted not under good treatment he would attain — King Solomon, in purple and fine linen, was not looked upon with more admiration, than was he by his loving mother and sisters. His cough had in a measure yielded to remedies, and his cheeks bore the tinge of better blood.

Good Mr. Ijevi Willard, his wife and children, had already been to see Thomie and the strangers within our gates, and many others had already sent kind messages and substantial tokens of regard. And the young people of Decatur, young ladies and little boys, were planning to give them a surprise party. And among these loving attentions was a visit from King, the faithful.

The flowers bloomed prettier, the birds sang sweeter, because of their presence ; but time Avaits for no man, and we were admonished by low conversations and suggestive looks that these men, officers in the army of the Confederacy, were planning their departure.

Many amusing incidents, as well as those of a horrible character, were told of their prison life in Camp Chase. To illustrate the patriotism of Southern men. Col. Deshler, as a prisoner of war, figured conspicuously; and many anecdotes ludicrous and pathetic, quaint and original, revealed the deep devotion of his love for the South. In one of these word-paintings, he was represented as sitting on his legs, darning the seat of his pantaloons, when a feminine curiosity seeker came along. When she perceived his occupation, she said with a leer that would have done credit to Lucifer:

'' You rebels find it pretty hard work to keep your gray duds in order, don't you?"

^yithout looking at her, he whistled in musical cadence the contempt he felt for her and her ilk; and the imprecations, he would not have expressed in words, were so distinct and well modulated as to leave no doubt as to their meaning.

The time had come for the nature of the low-toned conversations, referred to, to be revealed, and Thomie was chosen to make the revelation. Planning to have mother and sisters present, he discussed the duties of patriotism, and the odium men brought upon themselves by not discharging those duties. Making the matter personal, he referred to himself and friends, to the great pleasure and personal benefit derived from a wreck's sojourn at home; of the love for us that would ever linger in their hearts; of the pleasant memories that would nerve them in future conflicts; and in conclusion told us that to-morrow they would leave us to join their command at Tullahoma, where the decimated regiment was to stay until its numbers were sufficiently recruited for service.

Instead of yielding to grief, we repressed every evidence of it, and spoke only words of encouragement to these noble men who had never shirked a duty, or sought bomb-proof positions in the army of the Confederacy. After this interview, Thomie abandoned himself to cheerfulness, to almost boyish gaiety. He kept very close to his mother. She had grown old so rapidly since the troubles began, that she needed all the support that could be given her in this ordeal. This he perceived without seeming to do so, and left nothing within his power undone for her He even discussed with perfect oquaninilty the probability, yea, the more than probability, of his getting killed in battle; for, said he, 'Mie that taketh uj) the sword, by the sword shall he perish." And, he added, ^'strong, irrepressible convictions constrained nie to enter the army in defense of mother, home and conntry. ^ly vote was cast for the secession of my state from the union of states which existed only in name, and I would not have accepted any position tendered me which would have secured me from the dangers involved by that step. I was willing to give my life, if need be, for the cause which should be dear to every Southern heart."

Every one present responded to these noble sentiments, for were we not soldiers, too, working for the same noble cause, and aiding and abetting those who fought its battles?

Before retiring to our rooms. Captain Lauderdale, as usual, led in prayer, fervent deep and "soul-supporting, more for our mother and ourselves than for himself and his comrades in their perilous positions. And dear Thomie, whom I had never heard pray since his cradle invocation,

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep,"

finished in words thrilling and beautiful. The effect was electrical. Tears and sobs were no longer repressed, and all found relief from long pent-up feeling. O, the blessedness of tears!

Morning came, clear as crystal, and cool and exhilarating. The household were up at early dawn. A strong decoction of coiiee was prepared, and fresh cream toast and boiled eggs, meat relishes, being served cold. Knapsacks — there were knapsacks now — were packed, and blankets rolled and buckled in straps, and our ebony Confederates, Toby and Telitha, stood ready to convey them to the depot. In order to meet the morning train at seven o'clock we started, but the services of Toby and Telitha were not accepted. The gentlemen said it would never do for soldiers to start oif to report for service with negroes carrying their knapsacks and blankets. They had no muskets to shoulder, for of these they had been divested at Arkansas Post, months ago, when captured by the enemy.

Lieutenant McMurray, who was in very feeble health, announced himself unable to report for duty, and remained with us several weeks longer.

The parting at the depot did not betray the grief, almost without earthly hope, that was rankling in our hearts, and the ''good-bye's" and ''God bless you's" were uttered with a composure we little thought at our command.

As the time of his departure had drawn near, Thomie had sought opportunities to tell me much of the young girl in Texas, who had healed the lacerations of his youthful heart, and won the admiration of his manhood, and whom he had made his wife. Upon her devotion he dwelt with peculiar pathos and gratitude; and he concluded these conversations with the request that under any and all circumstances I would be a sister to her. On one of these occasions we were standing near the piano, and, when we ceased to talk, Thomie opened it, and in tones that came from the heart, and that were tremulous with emotion, he sang, '^When this cruel war is over."

Why sings the swan its sweetest notes, When life is near its close?

Since writing the foregoing, I have had access to a journal, kept during the war by my half-sister, Missouri Stokes, in which are the following entries of historic value: ^^On the 11th of January, 1863, Arkansas Post, the fort where Thomie was stationed, fell into the hands of the Yankees. General Churchhill's whole command, numbering about four thousand, were captured, a few being killed and wounded. We knew that Thomie, if alive, must be a prisoner, but could hear no tidings from him. Our suspense continued until the latter part of March, when ma received a letter from our loved one, written at Camp Chase, (military prison) Ohio, February 10th. This letter she forwarded to me, and I received it, March 21st, with heartfelt emotions of gratitude to Him who had preserved his life. A few weeks afterwards another letter came, saying he expected to be exchanged in a few days, and then for several weeks we heard no more."

From this journal I learn that the date of Thomie's arrival was May 16th, 1863. My sister wrote of him : "He seemed much changed, although only four years ■and a half had elapsed since we parted. He looked older, thinner, and more care-worn, ^^nd gray hairs are sprinkled among his dark brown curls. His health had been poor in the army, and then, when he left Camp Chase, he, as well as the other prisoners, was stripped by the Yankees of nearly all his warm clothing. He left the pri.son in April, and was exchanged at City Point. How strange the dealings of Providence. Truly was he led by a way he knew not. He went out to Texas by way of the West, and returned home from the East. God be thanked for preserving liis life, when so many of his comrades have died. He is a miracle of mercy. After their capture, they were put on boats from which Yankee small-pox patients had been taken. Some died of small-pox, but Thoniie had had varioloid and so escaped. He was crowded on a boat with twentytwo hundred, and scarcely had standing room. Many died on the passage up the river, one poor fellow with his head in Tommy's lap. May he never go through similar scenes again!"

From this same journal I take the following, written after Missouri^s return to the school she was teaching in Bartow county:

'^Sabbath morning, June 14th. Went to Cartersville to church. Some time elapsed before preaching commenced. A soldier came in, sat down rather behind me, then, rising, approached me. It wan Thomie. I soon found (for we did talk in church) that he had an order to join Kirby Smith, with a recommendation from Bragg that he be allowed to

DUBING THE WAB. 21

recruit for his regiment. Fortunately there was a vacant seat in the carriage, so he went out home with us. Monday 15th, Tommy left. I rode with him a little beyond the school house, then took ray books and basket, and with one kiss, and, on my part, a tearful good-bye, we parted. As I walked slowly back, I felt so lonely. He had been with me just long enough for me to realize a brother's kind protection, and now he's torn away, and I'm again alone. I turned and looked. He was driving slowly along — he turned a corner and was hidden from my view. Shall I see him no more? Or shall we meet again? God only knows. After a fit of weeping, and one earnest prayer for him, I turned my steps to my little school."

And thus our brother went back to Texas, and gladly, too, for was not his Mary there?

Of Thomie's recall to join his command at Daltou; of his arrival at home the next February, on his way to ''the front;" of his participation in the hard-fought battles that contested the way to Atlanta; and of his untimely death at the fatal battle of Franklin, Tennessee, I may speak hereafter.

Even in the spring and summer of 1863, the shadows began to deepen, and to hearts less sanguine than mine, affairs were assuming a gloomy aspect. I notice in this same journal from which I have quoted the foregoing extrac^ts, the following:

Johnson, and the saintly dauntless Stonewall Jackson, are numbered with the dead; while scarcely a household in our land does not mourn the loss of a brave husband and father, son or brother/'

DURING J HE WAR. 28

Chapter II. 80me Social Features

Morgan's Men rendezvous near Decatur — Waddell's Artillery — Visits from the Texans— Surgeon Haynie and his Song.

In the winter of 1864 there seems to have been a lull of hostilities between the armies at 'Hhe front." Morgan's men were rendezvousing near Decatur. Their brave and dashing chief had been captured, but had made his escape from the Ohio penitentiary, and was daily expected. Some artillery companies were camping near, among them WaddelPs. There was also a conscript camp within a mile or tw^o; so it is not to be wondered at that the young ladies of Decatur availed themselves in a quiet way of the social enjoyment the times afforded, and that there were little e:atherings at private houses at which '^Morgan's men" and the other soldiers were frequently represented.

Our brother was absent in Texas, where he had been assigned to duty, but my sister was at home, and many an hour's entertainment her music gave that winter to the soldiers and to the young people of Decatur. My mother's hospitality was proverbial, and much of our time these wintry months was spent in entertaining our soldier guests, and in ministering to the sick in the Atlanta hospitals, and in the camps and temporary hospitals about Decatur.

So near were we now to ''the front," (about a hundred miles distant), that several of my brother's Texas comrades obtained furloughs and came to see us. Among these were Lieutenants Prendergast and Jewell, Captain Leonard and Lieutenant Collins, Captain Bennett and Lieutenant Donathan. They usually had substantial boots made while here, by Smith the Decatur boot and shoe maker, which cost less than those they could have bought in Atlanta.

We received some very pleasant calls from Morgan's men and Waddell's Artillery. Among the latter we have always remembered a young man from Alabama, James Duncan Calhoun, of remarkable intellectual ability, refreshing candor, and refinement of manner. Ever since the w^ar, Mr. Calhoun has devoted himself to journalism. Among the former, we recall Lieutenant Adams, Messrs. Gill, Dupries, Clinkinbeard, Steele, Miller, Fortune, Rowland, Baker and Dr. Lewis. These gentlemen w^ere courteous and intelli* gent, and evidently came of excellent Kentucky and Tennessee families.

One evening several of these gentlemen had taken tea with us, and after supper the number of our guests was augmented by the coming of Dr. Ruth, of Kentucky, and Dr. H. B. Haynie, surgeon of the 14th Tennessee Cavalry. Dr. Haynie was an elderly, gray

DVRINa THE WAR. 25

haired man, of line })resence, and with the courtly manners of the old school. On being unanimously requested, he sang us a song entitled: ^'The Wailings at Fort Delaware," which he had composed when an inmate of that wretched prison. As one of the gentlemen remarked, ''there is more truth than poetry in it;" yet there are in it some indications of poetic genius, and Dr. Haynie sang it with fine eflPect.

-THE WAILINGS AT FORT DJ]LAWARE;'

By B. H. Haynie, Surgeon 14th Tennessee Cavalry, (Morgan's Division.)

Oh ! here we are confined at Fort Delaware, With nothing to drinlv but a little lager beer, Infested by vermin as much as we can bear; Oh Jeif. can't you help us to get away from here?

Chorus —

And its home, dearest home, the place I ought to be, Home, sweet home, way down in Tennessee, Where the ash and the oak and the bonny willow tree, Are all growing green way down in Tennessee.

The Island itself will do well enough, But the flat-footed Dutch are tilth y and rough. Oh ! take us away from the vandal clan. Down into Dixie among gentlemen.

Chorus. — And its home, dearest home, etc.

Spoiled beef and bad soup is our daily fare,

And to complain is more than any dare;

They will buck us and gag us, and cast us in a cell,

There to bear the anguish and torments of hell.

Chorus —

The den for our eating is anything but clean, And the filth upon the tables is plainh'^to be seen, And the smell of putrefaction rises on the air, "To fill out the bill" of our daily fare. Chorus —

"*"The sick are well treated,'" as Southern surgeons say, "And the losses by death are scarcely four per day; It's diarrhoea mixture for scurvy and small-pox, And every other disease of Pandora's box. Chorus —