A Chapter of history.
[from the New Orleans Picayune, November 15, 1903.]
Written by
Lieutenant-General Richard Taylor, a short time before his death.
To write an impartial and unprejudiced account of exciting contemporary events has always been a difficult task.
More especially is this true of civil strife, which, like family jars, evokes a peculiar flavor of bitterness.
But slight sketches of minor incidents, by actors and eyewit-nesses, may prove of service to the future writer, who undertakes the more ambitious and severe duty of historian.
The following
memoir pour servir has this object.
In the summer of 1864, after the close of the
Red river campaign, I was ordered to cross the
Mississippi and report my arrival on the east bank by telegraph to
Richmond.
All the fortified forts on the river were held by the
Federals, and the intermediate portions of the stream closely guarded by gunboats to impede and, if possible, prevent passage.
This delayed the transmission of the order above mentioned until August, when I crossed at a point just above the mouth of the
Red river.
On a dark night, in a small canoe, with horses swimming alongside, I got over without attracting the attention of a gunboat anchored a short distance below.
Woodville, Wilkinson county, Miss., was the nearest place in telegraphic communication with
Richmond.
Here, in reply to a dispatch to
Richmond, I was directed to assume command of the Department of
Alabama,
Mississippi, etc., with headquarters at
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Meridian, Miss., and was informed that
President Davis would, at an early day, meet me at
Montgomery, Ala.
The military situation was as follows:
Sherman occupied
Atlanta,
Hood lying some distance to the southwest;
Farragut had forced the defenses of
Mobile bay, capturing
Fort Morgan, etc., and the
Federals held
Pensacola, but had made no movement into the interior.
The closing scenes.
Major-General Maury commanded the Confederate forces garrisoning
Mobile and adjacent works, with
Commodore Farrand, Confederate Navy, in charge of several armed vessels.
Small bodies of troops were stationed at different points through the Department, and
Major-General Forrest, with his division of cavalry, was in
Northeast Mississippi.
Directing this latter officer to move his command across the
Tennessee river, and use every effort to intercept
Sherman's communications south of
Nashville, I proceeded to
Mobile to inspect the fortifications; thence to
Montgomery, to meet
President Davis.
The interview extended over many hours, and the military situation was freely discussed.
Our next meeting was at Fortress Monre, where, during his confinement, I obtained permission to visit him.
The closing scenes of the great drama succeeded each other with startling rapidity.
Sherman marched, unopposed, to the sea,
Hood was driven from
Nashville across the
Tennessee river, and asked to be relieved.
Assigned to this duty I met him near
Tupelo,
North Mississippi, and witnessed the melancholy spectacle presented by a retreating army.
Guns, small arms and accoutrements lost, men without shoes or blankets, and this in a winter of unusual severity in that latitude.
Making every effort to re-equip his force, I suggested to
General Lee, then commanding all the armies of the
Confederacy, that it should be moved to the Carolinas, to interpose between
Sherman's advance and his (
Lee's) lines of supply, and, in the last necessity, of retreat.
The suggestion was adopted, and this force so moved.
General Wilson, with a well-appointed and ably-led command of Federal cavalry, moved rapidly through
North Alabama, seized
Selma, and turning east to
Montgomery, continued into
Georgia.
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General Canby, commanding the
Union armies in the
Southwest, advanced up the eastern shore of
Mobile bay, and invested
Spanish Fort and
Blakely, important Confederate works in that quarter.
After repulsing an assault,
General Maury, in accordance with instructions, withdrew his garrison in the night to
Mobile, and then evacuated the city, falling back to
Meridian, on the line of the Mobile and Ohio Railway.
General Forrest was drawn to the same point, and the little army, less than eight thousand of all arms, was held in readiness to discharge such duties as the waning fortunes of the ‘cause’ and the honor of its arms might demand.
Soldierly courtesy.
Intelligence of
Lee's surrender reached us. Staff officers from
Johnston and
Sherman came across the country to inform
Canby and myself of their ‘Convention.’
Whereupon an interview was arranged between us to determine a course of action, and a place selected ten miles north of
Mobile, near the railway.
Accompanied by a staff officer,
Colonel Wm. M. Levy (afterwards a member of Congress from
Louisiana), and making use of a hand-car, I reached the appointed spot, and found
General Canby, with a large escort and many staff and other officers.
Among these I recognized some old friends, notably
General Canby, himself, and
General James Palmer.
All extended cordial greeting.
A few moments of private conversation with
Canby led to the establishment of a truce, to await further intelligence from the
North.
Forty-eight hours notice was to be given by the party desiring to terminate the truce.
We then joined the throng of officers, and although every one present felt a deep conviction that the last hour of the sad struggle approached, no allusion was made to it. Subjects awakening memories of the past, when all were sons of a loved, united country, were as by the natural selection of good breeding, chosen.
A bountiful luncheon was soon spread, and I was invited to partake of pates, champagne frappe, and other ‘delights,’ which, to me, had long been as lost arts.
As we took our seats at table, a military band in attendance commenced playing ‘Hail,
Columbia.’
Excusing himself,
General Canby walked to the door.
The music ceased for a moment, and then the strains of ‘Dixie’ were heard.
Old Froissart records no gentler act of ‘courtesie.’
Warmly thanking
General Canby for his delicate consideration, I asked for
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‘Hail,
Columbia,’ and proposed we should unite in the hope that our
Columbia would soon be, once more, a happy land.
This and other kindred sentiments were duly honored in ‘frappe,’ and, after much pleasant intercourse, the party separated.
The surrender.
The succeeding hours were filled with a grave responsibility, which could not be evaded or shared.
Circumstances had appointed me to watch the dying agonies of a cause that had fixed the attention of the world.
To my camps, as the last refuge in the storm, came many members of the Confederate Congress.
These gentlemen were urged to go, at once, to their respective homes, and by precept and example teach the people to submit to the inevitable, obey the laws, and resume the peaceful occupations on which society depends.
This advice was followed, and with excellent effect on public tranquility.
General Canby dispatched that his government disavowed the
Johnston-Sherman Convention, and it would be his duty to resume hostilities.
Almost at the same instant came the news of
Johnston's surrender.
There was no more room for hesitancy.
Folly and madness combined would not have justified an attempt to prolong a hopeless contest.
General Canby was informed that I desired to meet him for the purpose of negotiating a surrender of my forces, and that
Commodore Farrand, commanding the armed vessels in the
Alabama river, desired to meet
Rear Admiral Thatcher for a similar purpose.
Citronville, some forty miles north of
Mobile, was the appointed place, and there, in the early days of May, 1865, the great war virtually ended.
After this no hostile gun was fired, and the authority of the
United States was supreme in the land.
Conditions of surrender were speedily determined, and of a character to soothe the pride of the vanquished: Officers to retain sidearms, troops to turn in arms and equipments to their own ordnance officers, so of the quartermaster and commissary stores; the
Confederate cotton agent for
Alabama and
Mississippi to settle his accounts with the
Treasury Agent of the
United States; muster rolls to be prepared, etc., transportation to be provided for the men. All this under my control and supervision.
Here a curious incident may be mentioned.
At an early period
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of the war, when
Colonel Sidney Johnston retired to the south of the
Tennessee river,
Isham G. Harris,
Governor of
Tennessee, accompanied him, taking at the same time the coin from the vaults of the State Bank of
Tennessee, at
Nashville.
This coin, in the immediate charge of a bonded officer of the bank, had occasioned much solicitude to the
Governor in his many wanderings.
He appealed to me to assist in the restoration of the coin to the bank.
At my request
General Canby detailed an officer and escort, and the money reached the bank intact.
This is the
Governor Harris who was afterwards elected to the United States Senate.
After the war.
The condition of the people of
Alabama and
Mississippi was at this time deplorable.
The waste of war had stripped large areas of the necessaries of life.
In view of this I suggested to
General Canby that his troops, sent to the interior, should be limited to the number required for the preservation of order, and be stationed at points where supplies were more abundant.
That trade would soon be established between soldiers and people—furnishing the latter with currency, of which they were destitute—and friendly relations promoted.
These suggestions were adopted, and a day or two thereafter, at
Meridian, a note was received from
General Canby, inclosing copies of orders to
Generals Granger and
Steele, commanding army corps, by which it appeared these officers were directed to call on me for, and conform to, advice relative to the movement of their troops.
Strange, indeed, must such confidence appear to statesmen of the ‘bloody-shirt’ persuasion.
In due time Federal staff officers reached my camp.
The men were paroled and sent home.
Public property was turned over and receipted for, and this as orderly and gently as in time of peace between officers of the same service.
What years of discord, bitterness, injustice and loss would not our country have been spared had the wounds of war healed ‘by first intentions,’ under the tender ministration of the hands that fought the battles?
But the task was allotted to ambitious partisans, most of whom had not heard the sound of a gun.
As of old, the lion and the bear fight openly and sturdily; the stealthy fox carries off the prize.