Recollections of a Virginian in the Mexican, Indian, and Civil Wars/20

It was decided by my friends and by me that, as there was no school of standing in that war-swept region, it was fitting I should establish one. It was known that I was an A. B. of the University of Virginia, and a graduate of West Point, where I had also been for four years an instructor. Encouraged by the recollection of these past achievements in the field of knowledge, I determined to establish in Fredericksburg a Classical and Mathematical Academy of a high grade. As soon as the announcement was made, pupils came to secure admission, not because they knew anything about my attainments, but because I was a Confederate general, and they had the utmost confidence in my qualifications.

As the engagements multiplied and the time for opening the academy approached, my own misgivings as to these qualifications greatly increased. In fact, I felt that I was working under false pretenses, and I determined to practice my abilities as teacher and guide of youth upon my daughter, modestly limiting my course of instruction to the elements of arithmetic. My efforts were distinguished by such signal failure and lack of intelligence on my part, and by such sorrow upon hers, as convinced me that I must have a partner in the conduct of the Classical and Mathematical Academy.

There was a very clever teacher, named Buckner, who had managed the Fredericksburg Academy before the war with that ability and success to be expected of me. I sought Mr. Buckner and told him that I found it wiser to have a partner in this important enterprise, in case I should be sick or wounded; that I already had forty five pupils engaged at $50 each per scholastic year; that I had heard of his capacity as a teacher, and thought it prudent we should work together; that I was willing to entrust to him the older and more advanced boys, who were learning the Latin and Greek and higher mathematics, while I would undertake the instruction and flagellation of the little a.b. abs. Buckner was a gentleman and a scholar, and a fine Confederate soldier as well, and joined at once as junior professor of the Fredericksburg Classical and Mathematical Academy.

One of the deciding causes of this arrangement of mine and Buckner's was the arrival at Cleveland of five boys sent to me from Alabama to be "plebs" of my school. My blood ran cold when I saw them, but I found an elegant gentlewoman bereft of her comfortable fortune by the war, who was willing to receive them into her family on very reasonable terms and to look after them, which she did for several years very kindly.

At this crisis I received a very lucrative offer of business in New Orleans. So I transferred to Mr. Buckner my responsibilities in our mutual institution of learning, and went to New Orleans to be an express agent. Having been the quartermaster in the United States Corps of Cadets, it was presumed I had peculiar fitness for all matters appertaining to transportation, etc., so I retired and Buckner managed the academy until his death, and a more faithful and accomplished principal it could never have had. For, since the days of Mr. Thomas Hanson, no man had won the confidence and love of pupils and parents, or deserved them more than he.

I always felt satisfied as to my connection with that excellent institution, for I was strictly honest in it all. I knew I had been in school from the time I was four years old until I was twenty four, and ought to be competent to teach, but when the five boys arrived from Mobile, entrusted by confiding friends to my tutelage, I felt the gravity of the responsibilities, and instituted a rigid course of self examination. It was true that for eight or nine years I had to nothing to do but study Latin and Greek, but a careful private investigation showed that I had not for many years been able to tell one Greek character from another, and could not translate a line of a Latin author without a dictionary. As for mathematics, I had forgotten the algebraic signs, and after a while I began to doubt if I could even keep up with the a.b. abs.

I must have been a success as an express agent, for as soon after entering upon this business, the company raised my wages to $200 per month, and I sent for my family to join me in New Orleans. Not many months elapsed before I ascertained that the company was about to sell out to an older and richer one, and I was advised to consider the business of the manufacture of resin and turpentine. Naval stores were ruling at enormous prices, many times their ante-war rate, and the whole manufacture in America had ceased. I took council of as many friends having knowledge of such things as I could reach, and they unanimously advised me to go into the business. Pine lands were cheap, the process was simple, negroes were less adverse to that than any other sort of labor. One generous hearted gentleman of Mobile said, "General, I don't think you can fail, and if you will find a suitable place for the business, I will buy it for you." This was Colonel Jack Ingersoll.

Another, Captain John Gillespie, was in charge of an enormous fire and marine insurance business. He had never in his life made so much money, and he went on famously, making commissions of many thousands of dollars per month for some time. One brilliant stroke of his electrified his New York company, for he put a whole shipload of cotton into that company. The managers posted to Mobile in intense anxiety, but the ship arrived safely in Liverpool, and they made a fine premium. However, they begged Gillespie in future not to monopolize such a risk for them. Gillespie said: "General, you can't fail in this turpentine business. Go on with it, and draw on me for your expenses. You took care of me for four years; I'll take care of you as long as I have a dollar." And he did. He is now an eminent lawyer in Kansas City, Missouri, -- Judge John Gillespie, as able as he is honest, and brave, and generous.

Another true and noble friend was my adjutant-general, E.W. Flowerree. He had attracted my attention by his manly and soldierly bearing at Elkhorn. On inquiry, I learned that he was a Virginian, and a graduate of the Virginia Military Institute. As soon as I was promoted to a brigadier, I selected him for my Adjutant-General, and he stayed with me until the end of the war, and was my dear friend the last day of his life.

I bought of Mr. Ben Turner, of Alabama, a place he owned and had profitably worked in Louisiana, in St. Tammany Parish. There was a comfortable residence upon it, and all of the apparatus necessary for the distilling of turpentine, and it was surrounded by great forests of the best sort of pine. By close attention I managed to have 70,000 boxes out by the opening of the season, which there opens two weeks earlier and closes two weeks later than in regions further north. Adjacent to my land lay a fine body of timber upon public land, which Mr. Turner had boxed and worked one season, so that in all I had 140,000 boxes, half of which would yield a fine resin, then selling it at fabulous prices.

The prices had tumbled before mine got to market, but I received $15 per barrel for a small lot, and turpentine also brought enormous values, selling at several dollars a gallon. I saw a fortune before me, and when an overture was made to me of the presidency of a railroad, with a salary of $10,000, I declined it, because I could not afford to accept it at the cost of giving up such business prospects. All went well with me for a little while. Every stilling gave nearly one hundred gallons of spirits and from fifteen to eighteen barrels of white resin, and I was in a fair way to reimburse Ingersoll and Gillespie their advances, when the latter, who had been over-generous to his friends, came to grief, and I had no capital to pay my hands or carry on my work.

For the rest of that year things went very badly for me; we were far from all human sympathy, surrounded by a very low order of people. The war had developed the fact that the worst class of our population was to be found in the vast region of piney woods that sweep along our seaboard from Carolina to the Sabine. They are also in the mountains of East Tennessee; the same so graphically described by Miss Murfree, and who have until now manifested the most vicious and cruel natures of any North American. Jones County, Mississippi, is in this piney woods belt, between Meridian and the lower Pearl River. Toward the close of the war, it was reported to me that the people of that county had declared their independence of the Southern Confederacy. It was said that a Confederate wagon-train passing through that section had been captured, and the officer in charge paroled as any other prisoner of war might have been. So I forthwith ordered the Fifteenth Confederate Cavalry to invade this imperium in imperio and reduce these secessionists to order. Colonel Henry Maury who was in command of the expedition, did his work very actively, broke up the cover of these malcontents, put several families into mourning, and scattered the military powers into the neighboring swamps and fastness, where his horsemen were unable to follow up the fugitives. Colonel Lowry, since governor, of the Third Mississippi, was sent to support Colonel Henry Maury, and completed the work of the mounted men so thoroughly that the malcontents left the county in great numbers, and moved down the Delta or Pearl River.

It was into this community, where my name, as I afterwards found out too late, was the red flag for the bull, that I, unwitting of my neighbors, came to seek my fortune. Threats were soon made against me, and one rascal was insolent enough to threaten me in my own house. I invited him out, escorted him through my gate, and warned him never again to set foot upon my property. On the next Sunday, about midday, I returned from New Orleans to find my greatest body of pine in a general conflagration. Seventy thousand boxes were burned out, and with difficulty the fences and buildings were saved. After that I never left my house unarmed.

It was, therefore, with a special relief that I welcomed my kinsman, "Jack" [John] Maury, from Fort Delawarre. He had refused to take the oath of allegiance to the Federal government and, with a few other Confederate officers, was detained in prison until the late summer, when the United States refused to keep them any longer and bade them, as Dogberry did, to "go in God's name." About this time my wife fell ill, and we were very desolate, no human being ever coming near us; till one day there was a step upon the veranda, a tap at the door, and there stood that grand old gentleman, Dr. Louis Minor, late fleet surgeon of the Confederate Navy, as gentle as he was brave, the Colonel Newcome of our time. He had heard in New Orleans of my wife's condition, had boarded a sloop on Lake Pontchartrain, and after a rough experience of forty eight hours, reached us. He came like a minister of mercy, and was with us many days, and his patient was convalescent before he returned to his own comfortable home in New Orleans.

It became evident that our whole enterprise in St. Tammany Parish was a failure. The sum of $10 was the total balance in hand, and I took $5 and went to New Orleans to seek my fortune. At the Rigolet I boarded a sloop across the lake. Her captain and crew of two men were negroes, and the passenger accommodation appropriate. My passage money was $2,50, and on the second day when we landed I walked into the city with $2.50 in my pocket and went to the office of an old friend, General Simon Buckner. He told me the office of the secretary of the Southern Hospital Association had been created the previous night with a salary of $125 per month, and said, "Will you accept it?" "Accept it? Of course I will. That's $125 a month more than my present income." In a short time it was raised to $200, and I was able to be reunited with my family.

One bright Sunday morning in the winter of 1871, as we were returning from church, my friend Colonel M--- joined us, and after chatting awhile on various topics, touched my arm and turned away. I followed him, and he told me that night before, while drunk, he had slapped the face of his old friend, Captain L---, and that he had been awakened on Sunday morning by Mr. Essling and Captain Adams, bearing a peremptory challenge; that Colonel Jack Wharton had agreed to act as his second, provided I would serve with him. Remembering that the challenger had a wife and children, and believing that I could prevent the duel, I consented to serve. The challenge was peremptory, and we accepted it, Wharton and I agreeing to fix a "long day," that time might be gained for the intervention of friends, and a peaceful solution reached. We fixed the following Wednesday as the date, Bay St. Louis as the place, and dueling pistols as the weapons. We then reported to our principal, to whom Wharton remarked, "Now you will have time to brush up on your pistol practice." Raising his head proudly, Colonel M--- replied, "No, sir, I will not touch a pistol until I take my place upon the field next Wednesday." I said, " I am glad to hear you say so. It is just what I expected of you."

In that day, and especially in New Orleans, no man could refuse to fight a duel under such circumstances as these, and preserve his self-respect or the confidence of the community. The principals in this affair were both Kentuckians and soldiers of high courage. After accepting the challenge we set ourselves to find some mutual friend who could act as mediator. By this time the whole rotunda of the St. Charles Hotel was filled by the curious and anxious friends of the principals, who had discovered that a duel was in prospect. Late in the evening, General Tom Taylor, a friend of both parties, came to me -- may God bless him for it! -- and said, "General, these men ought not to fight." I replied, "I know it, but the challenge was peremptory, and no opportunity for apology was offered." He disappeared, and, as I expected, soon returned, saying the seconds on the other side desired to see us. As we entered the room, Essling said, "General, I am surprised that you seem anxious for a fight." I said: "No other alternative is left us by the challenge. I am exceedingly anxious for a peaceable solution of the matter, if possible." "Well, " said Essling, "if the challenge were withdrawn, do you think we could reach a solution?" "Yes," I said; "in that case we might." "Well, General, we will suspend the challenge with the understanding that if we can't satisfactorily adjust matters, they shall proceed as before arranged." I retired, outwardly grave and serious, but with a heart lightened of its deep anxiety, into a private room, where Wharton and I wrote an ample apology for the deadly affront offered Captain L--- by Colonel M---; and since that day I have had nothing to do with duels save to prevent them, although -- to anticipate my narrative a little -- the reckless opponents of Mr. Cleveland have censured him for appointing me United States Minister to Colombia, because I have "shot several men in duels."

On the occasion of this mendacity, I wrote to Mr. Cleveland, telling him that for myself I did not care; that my own people knew my character and history so well that they had elected me a member of the Anti-Duelling Society of South Carolina. But, as the slander was published to injure him, I would take any measures to expose and punish its libelous authors he might advise. He replied with characteristic kindness, saying, "No one believes what that paper publishes, and unless it is reiterated I would not notice it." An eminent lawyer informed me I could successfully prosecute for such slander, but I decided to await further developments, which never came. Thank heaven, dueling among gentlemen has become almost unknown. The men who fought in the great war between the States have no need of such encounters to prove their courage or protect their honor.

To return to my story, whence the recollection of this threatened duel led me to wander, in New Orleans, in 1868, I determined to set foot on a plan for the systematic collection and preservation of the Southern archives relating to the war. General Dick Taylor cordially encouraged me, and in May of that year I called a meeting by quiet personal requests of nine or ten gentlemen in the office of Hewitt and Morton. After conversational discussion, it was agreed to meet at the same place one week from that date. Meantime, each of us agreed to canvass among friends and bring them in to help. Next week forty of us assembled, and the noble and able Presbyterian divine, Dr. B. M.. Palmer,[Rev. Benjamin Morgan Palmer D D. (1818-1902.)] was elected president, and our work went on for several years, though without important result.

In 1873, a convention was called at White Sulphur Springs. It was attended by many able Southern gentlemen, who evinced the most interest in our work. President Davis, Admiral Semmes, Governor Letcher, and General Beauregard took leading parts. The domicile of the society was moved to Richmond. Colonel Wythe Mumford was appointed secretary and I chairman of the Executive Committee. We occupied an office in the capitol of Virginia, made acknowledgments in the newspapers for documents received, and arrangements for their publication.

The Executive Committee included the [kinsman] Honorable Robert Mercer Taliaferro Hunter and several other gentlemen of high character and ability, and so soon as we began to publish our records, our membership rapidly increased; so that the Secretary of War at length sought to procure access to and the use off our archives. We replied, "Open yours to us and we will be open to you." This ended the negotiations. The next Secretary asked access to our papers with the same result. Then Mr. Hayes obtained the Presidency, and announced a conciliatory policy towards the South. He appointed General Marcus Wright, who had already collected by his own exertions many of our war papers, to the charge of that business, and sent him to me to accomplish a free interchange of documents between the War Records Office and the Southern Historical Society. To this I cordially assented, and opened our office with all its great collection of papers to the free access of the office in Washington. Since then the interchange has continued, until now the War Records Office can publish the authentic facts of both contestants in the struggle.

Satisfied and proud of our prowess, so wonderfully exhibited in the war, and with all our interest concentrated upon the South's financial prosperity, it was no wonder that for a long time little thought was given to the development of the military power of the Southern States. The contest of Tilden and Hayes for the Presidency caused some of us to apprehend civil war. During that political struggle and soon after the great labor riots in Baltimore and Pittsburgh, etc., I called a meeting in Richmond to consider how we might improve the militia of the State. We invited the cooperation of all the States in measures promotive of our military efficiency, and the matter was promptly taken up in New York and followed by the first convention and organization of the National Guard Association of America.

We succeeded in procuring from Congress a small increase in the annual appropriation for arming the militia, but, better than that, we aroused in every State such interest in this vital subject as has placed on foot the most efficient national militia in the world. Only a short time has passed since the great State of Pennsylvania called out her militia, and in twenty four hours an army as large as that with which Scott conquered Mexico was thrown into a remote part of the State, where it arrested and crushed out the most dangerous and powerful organization ever yet in arms against the government. In setting this movement on foot, I had the active help and cooperation of Captain Cutshaw, Colonel Purcell, and other gentlemen of Richmond.

Before bringing my narrative to its end with an account of my experience and adventures in Colombia, I wish to pay tribute to my old friend, Senator M.C. Butler, of South Carolina. Senator Butler is a descendant of the best families of the Southern and the Northern States. The famous Commodores Perry of New England were his uncles. On his father's side he was of the Butler families of Virginia and South Carolina. That noble Senator Butler, Andrew Pickens Butler, compeer of Calhoun, was his uncle. None who ever enjoyed the pleasure of his acquaintance here forgot how high a privilege that was. Judge Butler, R.M.T. Hunter, and James M. Mason were for years the great triumvirate of the United States Senate. They lived in the same house, ate at the same table, and were close friends, warmly attached and associated in their personal intercourse, and staunch allies in debate and influence in the Senate in those days when true dignity and influence of a Southern senator were at their highest.

It was once my delightful privilege to pass the Christmas holidays with Judge Butler and a company of bright ladies and gentlemen, old and young, in Hazelwood, that old Virginia home of the Taylors of Carolina. Young as I was, Judge Butler and I became close friends at once. We had a dinner party every day, and every night had its delightful close in a dance at Gaiemont, Port Royal, or Hazelwood. The house, big as it was, had no vacant beds or empty places at the table, and we young people greatly enjoyed the old people. I remember a dinner of twenty or more seats, when we young men and maidens listened with delight to the witty and wise conversation sustained by Judge Butler, William P. Taylor of Hayfield, and John Bernard of Gaiemont. We young folks ceased our merry chat and listened with rapt attention to the wisdom and wit and charming narratives and wise discussions of this cultured trio of refined gentlemen of the old school. In a long experience I can recall nothing so elegant as was that of Christmas week.

Senator M.C. Butler is worthy of his high lineage. He entered the Confederate Army at the outset of the war between the States before he was twenty, and continually grew in his influence and his distinction. He had every quality of a great soldier, and far higher, a nobleness of nature which has made him till now admired and loved by all sorts of people, by the highest the most. He has been a senator of the old-time standard of his gallant little State, and a leader in all that has been important in the councils of his country. For more than fifteen years he has been in his high office, and well will it be for all people if he will continue in it. It was not merely by his energy and daring soldiership that Butler won the confidence and admiration of all good men, but he has given an example of self sacrifice which for all time will be held up for the emulation of future generations.

Butler bore an active part in the famous cavalry battle of Brandy Station, in which he was seriously wounded and maimed for life. In the early morning of that fierce fight, in which more than twenty thousand horsemen contested the field from dawn till dark of a long day in June, Butler and young Captain Farley had just come out of action and were laughing together over some amusing incident they both had noticed. Side by side in the road, they were facing in opposite directions, when a cannon-ball from an unobserved battery came bounding at them. It struck Butler's leg above the ankle, tore through his horse, and cut off Farley's leg above the knee. Down they all went. Butler began to staunch the blood with his handkerchief, and advised Farley how to do the same. Captain John Chestnutt, Lieutenant Rett, and other officers came running to Butler's help, but at that moment he observed that Farley's dying horse was struggling and seemed likely to crush him. So he told the officers who had come to his help to "go at once to Farley. He needs you more than I do." This they did, placing Farley in a litter. He asked them to bring his leg by him in it, and said: "Now, gentlemen, you have done all for me possible. I shall be dead in an hour.  God bless you for your kindness.  I bid you an affectionate farewell.  Go at once to Butler." That evening about five o'clock Butler's leg was dressed in the field hospital, just as poor Farley breathed his last. Butler had never seen Captain Farley before that morning, when Stuart sent orders by him to Butler. Henceforth we shall not need to go to Sir Philip Sidney for an example of noble self sacrifice.

Butler is full of genial humor and ready wit, as of more sterling qualities of manhood. On one occasion, he was at a reception in a Western city. A coarse, vulgar doctor was introduced to him, whose graceful salutations was, "So you are the fellow that killed all of them niggers in South Carolina." With an infinitely humorous expression, in his mellowest tones, Butler said, "Doctor, I have no doubt you have killed more men than I have." The retort carried the audience, who despised the doctor, and enjoyed his discomfiture as he slunk away.

This foolish invention of an Edgefield massacre, published by politicians, who used to ride over us and try to keep us down, gave Butler another opportunity to show his mettle. A leading senator, who had announced that he was an advocate of settling personal difficulties by the "Code of Honor," had pressed this charge against Butler with especial virulence, and led in the effort made to exclude him from his seat in the Senate. After all the charges had been thoroughly disproved, and all honest men were satisfied that Butler had successfully striven to prevent bloodshed and violence in that business, this senator failed to acknowledge in any way that he had done injustice, but soon gave an occasion for Butler to bring him down from his perch, and received at the Carolinian's hands such a castigation as he never before been subjected to.

Butler married Maria Pickens, the second daughter of Governor Francis W. Pickens, the first war governor of South Carolina. In a recent letter Butler says: "No sketch of my life would be complete which did not mention the good woman, my wife, who has so much to do with shaping my career. If I have had any success in life, it is due more to her and my venerated mother than all else."

Beside General Butler's name should be written that of another South Carolina soldier, Colonel Haskell, whose arm was so terribly shattered that amputation at the shoulder was necessary. The surgeon was about to administer chloroform when Haskell said: "Stop, Doctor! You have very little chloroform since the enemy has declared it contraband of war. Is it not so?" "Yes, Colonel." "Then keep it for some poor soldier who needs it. I can do without it."