JOHNSTON'S RETREAT--GOVERNORS GRAHAM AND SWAIN
MISUNDERSTOOD--WHEELER'S CAVALRY--CONFEDERATE OCCUPANCY OF CHAPEL
HILL--THE LAST BLOOD--"STARS AND STRIPES"--ONE IN DEATH--GENERAL
ATKINS--SCENES AROUND RALEIGH--MILITARY LAWLESSNESS.
When the retrograde movement of General Johnston's army was at last
fairly understood--the supply-trains moving slowly along the roads of
Orange, and General Wheeler's cavalry, acting upon the maxim that all
that they left behind them was so much aid and comfort to the enemy,
taking care to leave at least as few horses and mules as possible--then
deluded people, who had all along hugged themselves in the belief that
their remoteness was their security, began to shake the dust from their
eyes, and open them to admit a view of the possibility of Sherman's
army reaching even their secluded homes.
The mission of Governors Graham and Swain was not generally understood,
even by their near neighbors. That any available attempt to check the
ruin and devastation that had hitherto accompanied that army could
be made, or was even consistent with honor and our allegiance to the
Confederate Government, very few believed. A distinguished Confederate
general, standing on our sidewalk, as his division of infantry marched
through on Friday, fourteenth, said, in reference to the commissioners,
that they were a couple of traitors, and ought to be hung. General
Wheeler's cavalry held the village of Chapel Hill until mid-day of
April sixteenth, Easter Sunday. Not a house in the place but was thrown
open to show them kindness and hospitality. There were rough riders
among these troopers--men who, if plunder was the object, would have
cared little whether it was got from friend or foe. How much of this
disposition to subsist by plunder was due to the West-Point training
of their General, it would perhaps be inquiring too curiously to
consider. A few such reckless men in a regiment would have been enough
to entail an evil name upon the whole; and at the time of which I now
speak there were more than a few in General Wheeler's command who were
utterly demoralized, lawless, and defiant. Having said this much,
because the truth must be told, I will add that of that famous band
by far the greater part were true and gallant men. We mingled freely
with them, from General Wheeler himself, who slept in the drenching
rain among his men, and was idolized by them, to his poorest private,
and the impression made by them was altogether in their favor. There
were men from every Southern State, and from every walk in life. There
were mechanics from Georgia and planters from Alabama: one of the
latter I especially remember, who had been a country physician in the
north-east corner of the State; a frank and steady, gray-haired man,
whose very address inspired confidence, and whose eldest boy rode by
his side: there were gay Frenchmen from Louisiana and lawyers from
Tennessee, some of whom had graduated at this university in the happy
days gone by, who revisited these empty corridors with undisguised
sadness, foreboding that not one stone would be left upon another of
these venerable buildings, perhaps not an oak left standing of the
noble groves, after Sherman's army had passed. Many of these men had
not been paid one cent, even of Confederate currency, in more than a
year. Few of them had more than the well-worn suit of clothes he had
on, the inefficient arms he carried, and the poor and poorly equipped
horse he rode. A lieutenant, not four years before a graduate of this
university, who had not seen his home within a year, and who had not
long before received intelligence that his house in Tennessee had
been burned to the ground by the enemy, and that his wife and child
were homeless, when the certain news was brought by Governor Swain of
General Lee's surrender, covered his face with his hands to hide a
brave man's tears. He told us that a twenty-five cent Confederate note
was all that he possessed in the world besides his horse. The privates
generally discussed the situation of affairs calmly and frankly, and
with an amount of intelligence that the Southern and South-western
yeomanry have not generally had credit for possessing. They one and all
agreed that, if the end was near, they would not surrender. "No, no,"
said a red-cheeked Georgian boy of nineteen, "they won't get me;" and
one six-foot-six saturnine Kentuckian assured me that he would join
the army of France, and take his allegiance and his revolver over the
water. I trust he is on his little farm, by the Licking River, as I
write, and has found him a wife, and is settled down to do his whole
duty to the country once more.
These men rode up frankly to our gates. "May I have my dinner here?"
"Can you give me a biscuit?" Well, it was not much we had, but we gave
it joyfully--dried fruit, sorghum, dried peas, and early vegetables.
Poor as it was, we seasoned it with the heartiest good-will and a
thousand wishes that it were better. The divisions of infantry passed
through at a rapid step without halting, so that we could give them no
more than the mute welcome and farewell, and a hearty God bless them,
as they passed. Their faces were weather-beaten but cheery; their
uniforms were faded, stained, and worn; but they stepped lightly, and
had a passing joke for the town gazers, and a kindly glance for the
pretty girls who lined the sidewalks, standing in the checkered shade
of the young elms.
On Friday afternoon General Wheeler rode in from the Raleigh road with
his staff, and alighted at the first corner. One of his aids came up
with a map of North-Carolina, which he unrolled and laid on the ground.
General Wheeler knelt down to consult it, and the group gathered round
him. Several of our citizens drew near, and a circle of as bright eyes
and fair faces as the Confederacy could show anywhere, eager to look
upon men whose names had been familiar for four years, and whose fame
will be part of our national history.
The Federal cavalry were in close pursuit, and several skirmishes had
taken place on the road from Raleigh. A brigade under General Atkins
followed General Wheeler, while Kilpatrick, with the rest of his
division, followed Hampton toward Hillsboro, along the Central Railroad
line. The last skirmish occurred, and perhaps the last blood of the war
was shed on Friday evening, fourteenth, at the Atkins Plantation, eight
miles from Chapel Hill, near the New-Hope River, which was much swollen
by heavy rains, and the bridge over which, as well as all others on
the road, was destroyed by General Wheeler's men. They attacked the
enemy endeavoring to cross on fallen trees and driftwood, and several
were killed on both sides. Some of our men were killed in a skirmish at
Morrisville, and some of the wounded came on with the trains. One poor
fellow from Selma, Ala., mortally wounded, was carried to the house of
one of our principal physicians, and tenderly cared for, for two or
three days, while he talked of his distant home and his mother, and
sent messages to those who would see him no more. After his comrades
had passed on and the place was in the hands of the Federals, he
resigned himself to die with childlike patience, asking for a favorite
hymn, and begging the lovely girl who had watched him with a sister's
fidelity to kiss him, as he was dying, "for his sister." He was laid to
rest in the garden, and perhaps as bitter tears of regret and despair
fell on that lonely grave as on any during the war; for the war was
over, and he and the rest had died in vain.
On Sunday, at two P.M., General Wheeler called in his pickets; and once
more, and for the last time, we saw the gallant sight of our gray-clad
Confederate soldiers, and waved our last farewell to our army. A few
hours of absolute and Sabbath stillness and silence ensued. The groves
stood thick and solemn, the bright sun shining through the great boles
and down the grassy slopes, while a pleasant fragrance was wafted from
the purple panicles of the Paullonia. All that nature can do was still
done with order and beauty, while men's hearts were failing them for
fear, and for looking after those things which were coming on the earth.
We sat in our pleasant piazzas and awaited events with quiet
resignation. The silver had all been buried--some of it in springs,
some of it under rocks in the streams, some of it in fence-corners,
which, after the fences had been burned down, was pretty hard to find
again; some of it in the woods, some of it in the cellars. There was
not much provision to be carried off--that was one comfort. The sight
of our empty store-rooms and smoke-houses would be likely to move our
invaders to laughter. Our wardrobes were hardly worth hiding--homespun
and jeans hung placidly in their accustomed places. But the libraries,
public and private, the buildings of the university--all minor selfish
considerations were merged in a generous anxiety for these. So we
talked and speculated, while the very peace and profound quiet of the
place sustained and soothed our minds. Just at sunset a sedate and
soldierly-looking man, at the head of a dozen _dressed in blue_, rode
quietly in by the Raleigh road. Governor Swain, accompanied by a few
of the principal citizens, met them at the entrance, and stated that
he had General Sherman's promise that the town and university should
be saved from pillage. The soldier replied that such were his orders,
and they should be observed. They then rode in, galloped up and down
the streets inquiring for rebels; and being informed that _there were
none_ in town, they withdrew for the night to their camp; and the next
morning, being Easter Monday, April seventeenth, General Atkins, at
the head of a detachment of four thousand cavalry, entered about eight
A.M., and we were captured.
That was surely a day to be remembered by us all. For the first time
in four years we saw the old flag--the "Stars and Stripes," in whose
defense we would once have been willing to die, but which certainly
excited very little enthusiasm now. Never before had we realized how
entirely our hearts had been turned away from what was once our whole
country, till we felt the bitterness aroused by the sight of that flag
shaking out its red and white folds over us. The utmost quiet and
good order prevailed. Guards were placed at every house immediately,
and with a promptness that was needful; for one residence, standing
a little apart, was entered by a squad of bummers in advance of the
guard, and in less than ten minutes the lower rooms, store-rooms, and
bed-rooms were overhauled and plundered with a swift and business-like
thoroughness only attainable by long and extensive practice. A guard
arriving, they left; but their plunder was not restored. The village
guards, belonging to the Ninth Michigan cavalry, deserve especial
mention as being a decent set of men, who, while they were here,
behaved with civility and propriety.
That was surely a day to be remembered by us all; yet the first
returning anniversary of that day brought the village of Chapel Hill
an occasion as generally interesting, but invested with a tenderness
of its own. On the sixteenth of April, 1866, the whole town poured
out to receive two Confederate soldiers--two brothers--who had fallen
in battle in our defense.[14] They came back home that day, and were
placed side by side in that church, whose aisles their infant feet
had trodden. The plain deal boxes that inclosed them were graced with
garlands, and the emblem of the holy faith in which they had died "more
than conquerors," woven of the flowers of their own dear native State.
It was all that North-Carolina could do for her sons who had died in
obedience to her laws.
Come, Southern flowers, and twine above their grave;
Let all our rath spring blossoms bear a part;
Let lilies of the vale and snowdrops wave,
And come thou too, fit emblem, bleeding-heart!
Bring all our evergreens--the laurel and the bay,
From the deep forests which around us stand;
They know them well, for in a happier day
They roamed these hills and valleys hand in hand.
Ye winds of heaven, o'er them gently sigh,
And April showers fall in kindliest rain,
And let the golden sunbeams softly lie
Upon the sod for which they died in vain.
It was something--it was much, that we could lay them among their own
familiar hills, pleasant in their lives and undivided in their deaths.
And North-Carolina dust will lie lightly on their gentle and noble
breasts.
While the command of General Atkins remained in Chapel Hill--a period
of nearly three weeks--the same work, with perhaps some mitigation, was
going on in the country round us, and around the city of Raleigh, which
had marked the progress of the Federal armies all through the South.
Planters having large families of white and black were left without
food, forage, cattle, or change of clothing. Being in camp so long,
bedding became an object with the marauders; and many wealthy families
were stripped of what the industry of years had accumulated in that
line. Much of what was so wantonly taken was as wantonly destroyed and
squandered among the prostitutes and negroes who haunted the camps. As
to Raleigh, though within the corporate limits, no plundering of the
houses was allowed; yet in the suburbs and the country the inscrutable
policy of permitting unrestrained license to the troops prevailed to
its widest extent. From the statements of several of the prominent
citizens of Raleigh I make the following extracts, the first giving a
general view, and the other simply one man's personal experience:
"Immediately around Raleigh the farms were completely despoiled of
every thing in the shape of provisions and forage, so as to leave
literally nothing for the support of man or beast. In many instances
the houses were burned or torn to pieces, and the fences and inclosures
entirely destroyed, so as to render it impossible at that season of the
year to produce one third of a crop, even with the greatest industry
and attention. Every horse and mule found in the country fit for
service was taken off, and only a few old and half-starved ones are to
be found on the farms."
The other statement I give in full:[15]
"On the thirteenth day of April, General Sherman took military
possession of Raleigh. A portion of his body-guard pitched their
tents (eight in number) in my front-yard, which, with a room in my
office, were occupied by officers. Their servants--cooks, waiters, and
hostlers--took possession of my kitchens, out-houses, and stables,
appropriating them in a most riotous and insolent manner. The soldiers
tore down my yard and garden-fences for fuel and tents, and turned
their horses and mules upon my vegetables and fruit-trees, destroying a
large lot of corn, potatoes, peas, etc.; took off my horses and mules,
tore off the doors, flooring, and weather-boarding of my out-houses
and barns for tents; killed all my poultry, upward of thirty young
hogs, cooking them in my kitchen for the officers' tables. After the
removal of this squad, another took instant possession, and pitched
twenty-four tents in my front-yard and a large number in the lower
part of my grounds, still using my kitchen, beside building fires
all over the yard. At my plantation, three miles from town, the
devastation was thorough and unsparing. I had no overseer there. The
negroes, some seventy in number, were plundered of their clothing
and provisions, consisting of bacon, pickled beef, corn-meal, and
flour. My dwelling-house was broken open, weather-boarding, flooring,
and ceiling carried off, every window-sash and glass broken out, and
every article of furniture for house or kitchen either carried off or
wantonly destroyed. Barns, cotton-house, and sheds were all torn down;
blacksmith's, carpenter's, and farming implements carried off or broken
up; three carts and two large wagons, with their gear, destroyed; the
fences burned; and a large number of mules and horses pastured on the
wheat-fields; all my mules and horses there (seventeen in number)
carried off; fifty head of cattle, forty sheep, fifty hogs, and a large
flock of geese and poultry either taken off or wantonly shot down; a
quantity of medicine, some excellent wines, brandy, whisky, and two
hundred gallons of vinegar were taken. Wagon-trains went down day after
day, till 150 barrels of corn, 15,000 pounds of fodder, 12,000 pounds
of hay, and all my wheat, peas, cotton, etc., were carried off, leaving
the whole place entirely bare, so that my negroes had to come in town
for rations."
By the above account it will be seen that the having a guard did
not avail to protect the premises, even within the city, though,
as a general rule, their presence did avail to protect the grounds
immediately around the house. A lady residing beyond the city limits,
the wife of a general officer in our army, had her house repeatedly
pillaged, and all the provisions belonging to her negroes, as well
as her own, carried off. The tent of a general in the Federal army
was pitched just in front of the house, and every marauder going in
and coming out laden with spoils was immediately in his view; yet
not a word was said to check the men, nor any steps allowed for her
protection. A guard was refused her, on the ground of the action of
Wheeler's men at their entrance; and when, after repeated solicitation,
a guard reluctantly came, he allowed all who were on the premises
laden, to march off with what they had in hand, saying he had no
authority to take any thing away from them! The unfortunate negroes
were the severest sufferers, they being literally stripped of their
all, and, beginning a new life of freedom, began it without even the
little savings and personal property accumulated in slavery.
That General Sherman was well aware of all this, and not only
tacitly permitted it, but considered it a necessary part of war that
non-combatants lying at the mercy of his army should receive no mercy
at all, is one of the extraordinary developments of the war. There
would rather seem to be a deficiency of judgment on his part than a
real want of humanity, for which he may have been indebted to the
astute military training received at West-Point.
To that institution alone must be conceded the unenviable distinction
of sending out soldiers instructed to carry fire, famine, and slaughter
through the invaded country, and then sententiously declaring that
"_such is war_."
"To her alone the praise is due,
She let them loose and cried Halloo!"
Even while the peace negotiations were in progress, as we have seen,
and in many cases after peace was declared, the grand army hastened
to improve the shining hours in Wake, Orange, and Alamance. Wholesale
robbery, abuse, and insult were practiced in so many instances under
the eyes of the commanding officers, that those who would have said
that the _officers_ did not know or permit such things, and that they
were the work of only lawless stragglers and camp-followers, such as
are found in all armies, were forced to the unavoidable conclusion that
this species of warfare was encouraged and approved by the commanders
as an important branch of the service, and an invaluable aid in the
work of subjugation and reconstruction.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 14: Junius C. and W. Lewis, the two youngest sons of the Hon.
W.H. Battle.]
[Footnote 15: There seems to be no good reason to refrain from saying
that this statement describes the treatment received by Governor Manly,
and that the lady mentioned in the next paragraph is the wife of
General Cox.--Editor.]