SHERIDAN'S OCCUPATION OF PETERSBURG
Such alarming rumors reached us from the neighboring counties, of
marauding parties plundering private houses and frightening defenceless
women, that my husband obtained an extension of his parole, and
permission to visit his sisters in Nottoway County. He had not heard
from his father since the fight at Cottage Farm. Leaving me in the care
of my neighbor, good Mr. Bishop, he set forth.
The first stirring event of our new position was the arrival of
prisoners, marched through the streets under a strong guard. They
were a forlorn body of ragged, hatless, barefoot men. They had found
poles or sticks somewhere, and upon them they waved their hats and
handkerchiefs—the poor, brave fellows! We women stood at the doors of
our houses with smiles and encouraging words. One of the soldiers darted
from the ranks, rushed to me, _embraced me_ as if I were a sister, and
slipped his watch into my hands! It was a novel experience; but I think
if he had appeared as a prisoner in the garb of Beelzebub, horns, hoofs,
and all, I should not have flinched. Within the watch I found his name—a
connection of our family and a valued friend. He had recognized me, but
I could not recognize the elegant young colonel in his impersonation of
a ragged barefoot boy.
My little sons soon found the destination of the captives, also that
citizens were getting permits from headquarters to take them home.
"Then you must go and ask General Hartsuff for a permit," I said. Upon
inquiry it appeared that this could not be done by proxy. Some adult
member of the family must apply in person.
So I took my young escorts with me, and we went to "Centre Hill," the
fine Bolling House, where the General had made his headquarters. I
presented my plea. How many did I want? I thought I could take care of
eight. Their names? I could give only one, the owner of the watch. The
General kindly conceded that I might select my men, adding, "Would to
God I could release them all!"
The first impression I had of the temporary prison was of stifling heat
in which no one could live. The place smelt violently! My friend helped
me choose my men, and I was required to present myself with them, armed
with my order, to have my name and theirs entered in an army register,
with an order that they report every day until the command moved on. As
I was leaving the warehouse a fair-haired boy said to me, "Oh, take me
along too!"
"Take my arm," I said; and not until I reached the street did I realize
the enormity of my mistake. I had stolen a prisoner!
I knew well I could be severely punished. My boy soon told me his name.
He was Frank Brooke, nephew of our dear Judge Randolph Tucker.
But here was a dilemma. All night I revolved it in my mind. I had nine
men—eight were to report next morning. Very early Alick knocked at my
door.
"What is it now, Alick?"
"One of dem prisoners run away las' night! I hear de do' open and jump
up to see what's de matter. He say, 'Keep still, boy! Hit's all right!'"
"So it is, Alick," I said, "it's perfectly delightful."
I took a piece of my husband's silver service down to the Northern
sutler, and pawned it for two hundred dollars. With this money I
purchased shoes, handkerchiefs, and hats for my men, and kept them
in comfort for a week or more. They were then "moved on" to other and
distant quarters,—and all very soon liberated.
One morning early I was summoned from my room by Alick, who informed me
that four gentlemen had called. Descending to the parlor, I found four
officers in Federal uniform. As soon as I entered, one of them asked
brusquely:—
"How many rooms are in this house?"
"I think there are eight or ten."
"General Sheridan wants the house for his adjutant's office."
I was aware that General Sheridan had arrived the day before, and had
taken possession of Mr. Hamilton's elegant mansion on the next street,
in the rear of my little dwelling.
I at once perceived that the General, although in a house of twenty or
more rooms, had not desired the noise and inconvenience of an adjutant's
office under his own roof. I answered coldly:—
"I cannot oblige General Sheridan. My house is small. I need it for my
own family."
One of the officers rose, crossed the room, and, standing before me,
said sternly:—
"Madam, you seem to be unaware that when General Sheridan sees a house
that suits him, he knows how to make the terms for it."
"Ah, well," I replied, "I had forgotten that fact for the moment. Do I
understand my family must go in the street? How much time can you give
me to remove them?"
The officers withdrew into the hall and conferred together. Presently
one of them returned, and informed me courteously that they had
concluded not to annoy me. He was aware he was addressing Mrs. General
Pryor. His own name was Captain Lee, and he had been happy to spare me
inconvenience.
The next morning I was awakened soon after dawn by a tremendous hubbub
below me, and sending my little maid, Lizzie, to ascertain the cause,
she beckoned to me to come to the head of the stairs. I threw on my
gown, thrust my feet into my carpet slippers, and peeped over the
banister. Captain Lee was standing at the foot of the stair, writing a
note on the top of the newel post. Looking up, he saw me, and said: "I
was writing to you, Madam. General Sheridan has ordered us to take your
house. It is a military necessity. I pray you will try to be patient,
and I will do all I can to save you annoyance."
"How soon must I leave?"
"Not at all! We can allow you two rooms—the one you already occupy and
the one below it."
I appreciated the concession of the latter room, and busied myself to
make of it dining room and sitting room.
I brought beds from a rear room to my own chamber, for the lodging of my
family. Alick was positively stricken at the new turn things had taken;
but I represented to him and to the boys the grave necessity, in their
father's absence, of discreet and always courteous behavior.
To add to my embarrassment, John brought in several hundred books he had
picked up on the farm. They were dumped down in a pile in the corner of
my reception room.
The weather was intensely hot. It was impossible to sit with closed
doors. I locked the doors of my bedroom during the day, and all the
family, except myself, lived in the yard under my eyes, unless the rain
drove them within.
The first night of our captivity I had sent my baby with her small nurse
to bed. Hearing a heavy step overhead, I ran up to my room. Standing in
an easy attitude, leaning on the mantel, was a large negro man. He was
smoking a cigar and talking to Lizzie.
"What is your business here?" I asked.
"Only my pleasure—to pass away a little time."
"Look at me!"
The negro raised his eyes with an insolent smile. Slowly and with
emphasis I said:—
"Do you leave this room instantly! And mark well my words. If ever you
enter it again, I shall KILL you!"
He left, and alas, alas! my poor little Lizzie, whom I had hired from
her mother, left also; and not by me or by her friends was she ever seen
again!
Only those who have lived in an adjutant's office can know the ceaseless
noise, turmoil, tramping to and fro, loud talking night and day.
There was _no_ night. The gas (which they left me to pay for) burned
brightly all night. Officers were coming in for orders day and night. I
never knew to what use the upper rooms were put; I only know they were
rarely silent. All the business of a great army was transacted here,
that the General's entertaining, his elegant life, his sleep, might be
undisturbed.
The sentry was drawn so closely around my doors that I could never
enter the yard or garden without passing them. Finally, upon going out
to the little vine-clad summer-house to give my baby air—I cannot say
fresh air—one of the sentinels shook my equilibrium by informing me as
I passed:—
"We've caught Jeff Davis."
When I returned, my eyes cast down to avoid him, he stepped close to me
and hissed in my ear, "He shall be _hanged_."
Mr. Davis had not then been arrested, but this I did not know. Leaving
my baby with her brothers, I walked straight into the veranda of Mr.
Hamilton's house, asked for General Sheridan, was ushered into a room
where a number of officers were sitting around a table, and announced
myself.
"I am Mrs. Pryor, whose house you have taken for an adjutant's office.
Sentinels have been placed around my house who insult me when I cross
the threshold."
General Sheridan rose: "What can we do for you, Madam? What do you
demand?"
"That the sentry around my house be removed to the street enclosure."
I was invited to take a seat, but I preferred standing while an order
was made out. I have often smiled to think what I must have looked like
to those officers. My gown was of chocolate-colored percale, with a
white spot. Enormous hoops were then in fashion. I had long since been
abandoned by mine. I fancy I resembled nothing so much as the wooden
Mrs. Noah who presides over the animals in the children's "Noah's Arks."
I took the order given me, bowed my thanks, and walked through a line of
soldiers home. After this I had the larger liberty my children needed.
It was my custom, in these days of my captivity, to descend early, that
I might guard my books, to my little reception room. A dining room it
did not become for a long time afterward. I had nothing whatever to eat
except the biscuits brought me by Mr. Bishop, and a daily tray sent at
noon by my angel friend, Mrs. Meade. She had some Northern men boarding
with her and could command such fare as the sutler was willing to sell,
for the farmers were as destitute of fresh food as ourselves.
We had been excellent customers of a cigar shop in old times, and the
proprietor now opened his establishment, and intrusted my boys and
Campbell with a "walking agency." They sold cigars at good profit to
the officers and soldiers around us; and we made acquaintance once more
with United States pennies and dimes.
Sitting all day in my little reception room, I was cheered by visits
from my friends, and occasionally the tenants of the house would ask for
a glass of water from the sideboard. Captain Lee came often. He confided
to me his chagrin at the manners of the Petersburg ladies. He had picked
up a veil for a pretty girl, and she had turned away her head when her
hand was extended to receive it. The Captain was deeply hurt: he was "a
Northern man, yes, but" he was "a gentleman."
One day Captain Lee informed me that he had good news for me. "We have
marching orders! We go to-night! I know you are pleased! We have given
you so much trouble!"
"Not more, I suppose, than was necessary!"
"Well, I must say, you have been very patient. General Sheridan is in
the office and wishes to make his respects to you."
The General entered and thanked me for the manner in which I had endured
all the inconvenience to which he had subjected me. He seemed, for some
reason, to wish me to think well of his course toward us, and began to
explain it. He alluded to the policy that he had adopted.
"It was the very best thing to do," he declared. "The only way to stamp
out this rebellion was to handle it without gloves."
If he fancied I would either argue or agree with him, he mistook me. I
was silent. There was an embarrassing pause, and he began to berate our
government for bad management. "Ladies should be better cared for," he
said.
"Why, I assure you there was no necessity for your starving! I have
unearthed, within forty miles of this place, enough provisions to keep
you in perfect comfort."
Looking down, he espied the brown eyes of my baby steadfastly fastened
on his face.
"I think I must borrow this little lady," he said. "It is not often
General Sheridan has anything in his arms as sweet as this."
He still had her in his arms as he turned to leave the room, and she
gladly went with him. Presently she was brought back with a parcel in
her own arms—figs, bananas, cakes, and nuts.
Captain Lee came in late to bid me good-by, and to reiterate his thanks.
"You really have been so very nice! Now I am going to beg you will allow
me to make some return."
I hastened to accept his offer. I told him that my General's pet mare,
Lady Jane, was in his command. She had been missing ever since the
battles around Richmond. John was sure he had seen her. By some chance
she had fallen into the hands of the troops now in Petersburg. Could it
be possible for me to reclaim her?
The Captain looked grieved.
"No," he said; "I had no thought of anything of that kind. But a great
many ladies have asked for what I am going to give you. I have brought
you General Sheridan's autograph."
He instantly interpreted my disappointment. Before I could recover he
added, "But it appears you don't wish it," and threw it on the table.
"I can at least, Captain, be grateful that you tried to please me."
That night the adjutant's office was closed. Next morning my husband
returned. General Warren came in to see him. General Sheridan stood
on our porch to receive the homage of his men, bowing to their cheers.
General Warren looked on from our window. Presently the troops he had
commanded when he was superseded by Sheridan passed the house. They saw
their old commander, and the shouts, "Hurrah for General Warren," must
have been harsh sounds for General Sheridan.
I was alone one afternoon in my accustomed seat, when a tall,
lantern-jawed soldier with a musket on his shoulder marched in.
"I want some whiskey!" he informed me.
"You'll not get it here!"
"Wall, I guess you'll have to scare it up. I'll search the house.'
"Search away! I'll call the provost guard to help you," I said.
He turned and marched out. At the door he sent me a parting shot:—
"Wall! you've got a damned tongue ef you ain't got no whiskey!"
My husband has always considered this a very good story. I forestall
him by telling it myself!
I grew very fond of General Warren. He spent many hours with us;
tactful, considerate, and kind, he never grieved or offended us.
One evening he silently took his seat. Presently he said:—
"I have news which will be painful to you. It hurts me to tell you, but
I think you had rather hear it from me than from a stranger—General Lee
has surrendered."
It was an awful blow to us. All was over. All the suffering, bloodshed,
death—all for nothing!
General Johnston's army was surrendered to General Sherman in North
Carolina on April 26. The banner which had led the armies of the South
through fire and blood to victory, to defeat, in times of starvation,
cold, and friendlessness; the banner that Helen's lover had waved aloft
on a forlorn hope until it fell from his lifeless hands; the banner
found under the dying boy at Gettysburg, who had smilingly refused
assistance lest it be discovered,—the banner of a thousand histories
was furled forever, with none so poor to do it reverence.