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[Illustration: PRESIDENT JEFFERSON DAVIS.]
THREE MONTHS
IN
THE SOUTHERN STATES
APRIL-JUNE 1863
BY
LIEUT.-COL. FREMANTLE
COLDSTREAM GUARDS
WITH PORTRAITS ENGRAVED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
MDCCCLXIII
_The Right of Translation is reserved_
PORTRAITS.
PRESIDENT JEFFERSON DAVIS, _Frontispiece_
JOSEPH E. JOHNSTON, _Page_ 117
LIEUT.-GENERAL LEONIDAS POLK, 147
GENERAL G. T. BEAUREGARD, 196
LIEUT.-GENERAL JAMES LONGSTREET, 242
GENERAL ROBERT E. LEE, 253
PREFACE.
At the outbreak of the American war, in common with many of my
countrymen, I felt very indifferent as to which side might win; but if I
had any bias, my sympathies were rather in favour of the North, on
account of the dislike which an Englishman naturally feels at the idea
of Slavery. But soon a sentiment of great admiration for the gallantry
and determination of the Southerners, together with the unhappy contrast
afforded by the foolish bullying conduct of the Northerners, caused a
complete revulsion in my feelings, and I was unable to repress a strong
wish to go to America and see something of this wonderful struggle.
Having successfully accomplished my design, I returned to England, and
found amongst all my friends an extreme desire to know the truth of what
was going on in the South; for, in consequence of the blockade, the
truth can with difficulty be arrived at, as intelligence coming mainly
through Northern sources is not believed; and, in fact, nowhere is the
ignorance of what is passing in the South more profound than it is in
the Northern States.
In consequence of a desire often expressed, I now publish the Diary
which I endeavoured, as well as I could, to keep up day by day during my
travels throughout the Confederate States. The latter portion of the
Diary, which has reference to the battle of Gettysburg, has already
appeared in 'Blackwood's Magazine;' and the interest with which it was
received has encouraged me to publish the remainder.
I have not attempted to conceal any of the peculiarities or defects
of the Southern people. Many persons will doubtless highly disapprove of
some of their customs and habits in the wilder portion of the country;
but I think no generous man, whatever may be his political opinions, can
do otherwise than admire the courage, energy, and patriotism of the
whole population, and the skill of its leaders, in this struggle against
great odds. And I am also of opinion that many will agree with me in
thinking that a people in which all ranks and both sexes display a
unanimity and a heroism which can never have been surpassed in the
history of the world, is destined, sooner or later, to become a great
and independent nation.
THREE MONTHS
IN
THE SOUTHERN STATES.
APRIL, MAY, JUNE, 1863.
_2d March 1863._--I left England in the royal mail steamer Atrato, and
arrived at St Thomas on the 17th.
* * * * *
_22d March._--Anchored at Havana at 6.15 A.M., where I fell in with my
old friend, H.M.'s frigate Immortalité. Captain Hancock not only
volunteered to take me as his guest to Matamoros, but also to take a
Texan merchant, whose acquaintance I had made in the Atrato. This
gentleman's name is M'Carthy. He is of Irish birth--an excellent fellow,
and a good companion; and when he understood my wish to see the "South,"
he had most good-naturedly volunteered to pilot me over part of the
Texan deserts. I owe much to Captain Hancock's kindness.
* * * * *
_23d March._--Left Havana in H.M.S. Immortalité, at 11 A.M. Knocked off
steam when outside the harbour.
* * * * *
_1st April._--Anchored at 8.30 P.M., three miles from the mouth of the
Rio Grande, or Rio Bravo del Norte, which is, I believe, its more
correct name, in the midst of about seventy merchant vessels.
* * * * *
_2d April._--The Texan and I left the Immortalité, in her cutter, at 10
A.M., and crossed the bar in fine style. The cutter was steered by Mr
Johnston, the master, and having a fair wind, we passed in like a flash
of lightning, and landed at the miserable village of Bagdad, on the
Mexican bank of the Rio Grande.
The bar was luckily in capital order--3-1/2 feet of water, and smooth.
It is often impassable for ten or twelve days together: the depth of
water varying from 2 to 5 feet. It is very dangerous, from the heavy
surf and under-current; sharks also abound. Boats are frequently
capsized in crossing it, and the Orlando lost a man on it about a month
ago.
Seventy vessels are constantly at anchor outside the bar; their cotton
cargoes being brought to them, with very great delays, by two small
steamers from Bagdad. These steamers draw only 3 feet of water, and
realise an enormous profit.
Bagdad consists of a few miserable wooden shanties, which have sprung
into existence since the war began. For an immense distance endless
bales of cotton are to be seen.
Immediately we landed, M'Carthy was greeted by his brother merchants. He
introduced me to Mr Ituria, a Mexican, who promised to take me in his
buggy to Brownsville, on the Texan bank of the river opposite Matamoros.
M'Carthy was to follow in the evening to Matamoros.
The Rio Grande is very tortuous and shallow; the distance by river to
Matamoros is sixty-five miles, and it is navigated by steamers, which
sometimes perform the trip in twelve hours, but more often take
twenty-four, so constantly do they get aground.
The distance from Bagdad to Matamoros by land is thirty-five miles; on
the Texan side to Brownsville, twenty-six miles.
I crossed the river from Bagdad with Mr Ituria, at 11 o'clock; and as I
had no pass, I was taken before half-a-dozen Confederate officers, who
were seated round a fire contemplating a tin of potatoes. These officers
belonged to Duff's cavalry (Duff being my Texan's partner). Their dress
consisted simply of flannel shirts, very ancient trousers, jack-boots
with enormous spurs, and black felt hats, ornamented with the "lone star
of Texas." They looked rough and dirty, but were extremely civil to me.
The captain was rather a boaster, and kept on remarking, "We've given
'em h----ll on the Mississippi, h----ll on the Sabine" (pronounced
Sabeen), "and h----ll in various other places."
He explained to me that he couldn't cross the river to see M'Carthy, as
he with some of his men had made a raid over there three weeks ago, and
carried away some "renegadoes," one of whom, named Mongomery, they had
_left_ on the road to Brownsville; by the smiles of the other officers I
could easily guess that something very disagreeable must have happened
to Mongomery. He introduced me to a skipper who had just run his
schooner, laden with cotton, from Galveston, and who was much elated in
consequence. The cotton had cost 6 cents a pound in Galveston, and is
worth 36 here.
Mr Ituria and I left for Brownsville at noon. A buggy is a light gig on
four high wheels.
The road is a natural one--the country quite flat, and much covered
with mosquite trees, very like pepper trees. Every person we met carried
a six-shooter, although it is very seldom necessary to use them.
After we had proceeded about nine miles we met General Bee, who commands
the troops at Brownsville. He was travelling to Boca del Rio in an
ambulance,[1] with his Quartermaster-General, Major Russell. I gave him
my letter of introduction to General Magruder, and told him who I was.
He thereupon descended from his ambulance and regaled me with beef and
beer in the open. He is brother to the General Bee who was killed at
Manassas. We talked politics and fraternised very amicably for more than
an hour. He said the Mongomery affair was against his sanction, and he
was sorry for it. He said that Davis, another renegado, would also have
been put to death, had it not been for the intercession of his wife.
General Bee had restored Davis to the Mexicans.
Half an hour after parting company with General Bee, we came to the
spot where Mongomery had been _left_; and sure enough, about two hundred
yards to the left of the road, we found him.
He had been slightly buried, but his head and arms were above the
ground, his arms tied together, the rope still round his neck, but part
of it still dangling from quite a small mosquite tree. Dogs or wolves
had probably scraped the earth from the body, and there was no flesh on
the bones. I obtained this my first experience of Lynch law within three
hours of landing in America.
I understand that this Mongomery was a man of very bad character, and
that, confiding in the neutrality of the Mexican soil, he was in the
habit of calling the Confederates all sorts of insulting epithets from
the Bagdad bank of the river; and a party of his "renegadoes" had also
crossed over and killed some unarmed cotton teamsters, which had roused
the fury of the Confederates.
About three miles beyond this we came to Colonel Duff's encampment. He
is a fine-looking, handsome Scotchman, and received me with much
hospitality. His regiment consisted of newly-raised volunteers--a very
fine body of young men, who were drilling in squads. They were dressed
in every variety of costume, many of them without coats, but all wore
the high black felt hat. Notwithstanding the peculiarity of their
attire, there was nothing ridiculous or contemptible in the appearance
of these men, who all looked thoroughly like "business." Colonel Duff
told me that many of the privates owned vast tracts of country, with
above a hundred slaves, and were extremely well off. They were all most
civil to me.
Their horses were rather raw-boned animals, but hardy and fast. The
saddles they used were nearly like the Mexican.
Colonel Duff confessed that the Mongomery affair was wrong, but he added
that his boys "_meant well_."
We reached Brownsville at 5.30 P.M., and Mr Ituria kindly insisted on my
sleeping at his house, instead of going to the crowded hotel.
[1] An ambulance is a light waggon, and generally has two springs
behind, and one transverse one in front. The seats can be so arranged
that two or even three persons may lie at full length.
* * * * *
_3d April_ (Good Friday).--At 8 A.M. I got a military pass to cross the
Rio Grande into Mexico, which I presented to the sentry, who then
allowed me to cross in the ferry-boat.
Carriages are not permitted to run on Good Friday in Mexico, so I had a
hot dusty walk of more than a mile into Matamoros.
Mr Zorn, the acting British Consul, and Mr Behnsen, his partner, invited
me to live at the Consulate during my stay at Matamoros, and I accepted
their offer with much gratitude.
I was introduced to Mr Colville, a Manchester man; to Mr Maloney, one
of the principal merchants; to Mr Bennet, an Englishman, one of the
owners of the Peterhoff, who seemed rather elated than otherwise when he
heard of the capture of his vessel, as he said the case was such a gross
one that our Government would be obliged to take it up. I was also
presented to the gobernador, rather a rough.
After dining with Mr Zorn I walked back to the Rio Grande, which I was
allowed to cross on presenting Mr Colville's pass to the Mexican
soldiers, and I slept at Mr Ituria's again.
Brownsville is a straggling town of about 3000 inhabitants; most of its
houses are wooden ones, and its streets are long, broad, and straight.
There are about 4000 troops under General Bee in its immediate vicinity.
Its prosperity was much injured when Matamoros was declared a free port.
After crossing the Rio Grande, a wide dusty road, about a mile in
length, leads to Matamoros, which is a Mexican city of about 9000
inhabitants. Its houses are not much better than those at Brownsville,
and they bear many marks of the numerous revolutions which are
continually taking place there. Even the British Consulate is riddled
with the bullets fired in 1861-2.
The Mexicans look very much like their Indian forefathers, their faces
being extremely dark, and their hair black and straight. They wear hats
with the most enormous brims, and delight in covering their jackets and
leather breeches with embroidery.
Some of the women are rather good-looking, but they plaster their heads
with grease, and paint their faces too much. Their dress is rather like
the Andalucian. When I went to the cathedral, I found it crammed with
kneeling women; an effigy of our Saviour was being taken down from the
cross and put into a golden coffin, the priest haranguing all the time
about His sufferings, and all the women howling most dismally as if they
were being beaten.
Matamoros is now infested with numbers of Jews, whose industry spoils
the trade of the established merchants, to the great rage of the latter.
It suffers much from drought, and there had been no rain to speak of for
eleven months.
I am told that it is a common thing in Mexico for the diligence to
arrive at its destination with the blinds down. This is a sure sign that
the travellers, both male and female, have been stripped by robbers
nearly to the skin. A certain quantity of clothing is then, as a matter
of course, thrown in at the window, to enable them to descend. Mr
Behnsen and Mr Maloney told me they had seen this happen several times;
and Mr Oetling declared that he himself, with three ladies, arrived at
the city of Mexico in this predicament.
* * * * *
_4th April_ (Saturday).--I crossed the river at 9 A.M., and got a
carriage at the Mexican side to take my baggage and myself to the
Consulate at Matamoros. The driver ill-treated his half-starved animals
most cruelly. The Mexicans are even worse than the Spaniards in this
respect.
I called on Mr Oetling, the Prussian Consul, who is one of the richest
and most prosperous merchants in Matamoros, and a very nice fellow.
After dinner we went to a _fandango_, or open-air fête. About 1500
people were gambling, and dancing bad imitations of European dances.
* * * * *
_5th April_ (Sunday).--Mr Zorn, or Don Pablo as he is called here, Her
Majesty's acting Vice-Consul, is a quaint and most good-natured little
man--a Prussian by birth. He is overwhelmed by the sudden importance he
has acquired from his office, and by the amount of work (for which he
gets no pay) entailed by it,--the office of British Consul having been a
comparative sinecure before the war.
Mr Behnsen is head of the firm. The principal place of business is at
San Luis Potosi, a considerable city in the interior of Mexico. All
these foreign merchants complain bitterly of the persecutions and
extortion they have to endure from the Government, which are, doubtless,
most annoying; but nevertheless they appear to fatten on the Mexican
soil.
I crossed to Brownsville to see General Bee, but he had not returned
from Boca del Rio.
I dined with Mr Oetling. We were about fourteen at dinner, principally
Germans, a very merry party. Mr Oetling is supposed to have made a
million of dollars for his firm, by bold cotton speculations, since the
war.
We all went to the theatre afterwards. The piece was an attack upon the
French and upon Southern institutions.
* * * * *
_6th April_ (Monday).--Mr Behnsen and Mr Colville left for Bagdad this
morning, in a very swell ambulance drawn by four gay mules.
At noon I crossed to Brownsville, and visited Captain Lynch, a
quartermaster, who broke open a great box, and presented me with a
Confederate felt hat to travel in. He then took me to the garrison, and
introduced me to Colonel Buchel of the 3d Texas Regiment, who is by
birth a German, but had served in the French army; and he prepared
cocktails in the most scientific manner. I returned to Matamoros at 2.30
P.M.
Captain Hancock and Mr Anderson (the paymaster) arrived from Bagdad in a
most miserable vehicle, at 4 P.M. They were a mass of dust, and had been
seven hours on the road, after having been very nearly capsized on the
bar.
There was a great firing of guns and squibs in the afternoon, in
consequence of the news of a total defeat of the French at Puebla, with
a loss of 8000 prisoners and 70 pieces of cannon.
Don Pablo, who had innocently hoisted his British flag in honour of
Captain Hancock, was accused by his brother merchants of making a
demonstration against the French.
After dinner we called on Mr Maloney, whose house is gorgeously
furnished, and who has a pretty wife.
* * * * *
_7th April_ (Tuesday).--Mr Maloney sent us his carriage to conduct
Captain Hancock, Mr Anderson, and myself to Brownsville.
We first called on Colonels Luckett and Buchel; the former is a handsome
man, a doctor by profession, well informed and agreeable, but most
bitter against the Yankees.
We sat for an hour and a half talking with these officers and drinking
endless cocktails, which were rather good, and required five or six
different liquids to make them.
We then adjourned to General Bee's, with whom we had another long talk,
and with whom we discussed more cocktails.
At the General's we were introduced to a well-dressed good-looking
Englishman, Mr ----, who, however, announced to us that he had abjured
his nationality until Great Britain rendered justice to the South.[2]
Two years since, this individual had his house burnt down; and a few
days ago, happening to hear that one of the incendiaries was on the
Mexican bank of the river, boasting of the exploit, he rowed himself
across, shot his man, and then rowed back. I was told afterwards that,
notwithstanding the sentiments he had given out before us, Mr ---- is a
stanch Britisher, always ready to produce his six-shooter at a moment's
notice, at any insult to the Queen or to England.
We were afterwards presented to ----, rather a sinister-looking party,
with long yellow hair down to his shoulders. This is the man who is
supposed to have hanged Mongomery.
We were treated by all the officers with the greatest consideration,
and conducted to the place of embarkation with much ceremony. Colonel
Luckett declared I should not leave Brownsville until General Magruder
arrives. He is expected every day.
Mr Maloney afterwards told us that these officers, having given up
everything for their country, were many of them in great poverty. He
doubted whether ---- had a second pair of boots in the world; but he
added that, to do honour to British officers, they would scour
Brownsville for the materials for cocktails.
At 3 P.M. we dined with Mr Maloney, who is one of the principal and most
enterprising British merchants at Matamoros, and enjoyed his hospitality
till 9.30. His wine was good, and he made us drink a good deal of it. Mr
Oetling was there, and his stories of highway robberies, and of his
journeys _en chemise_, were most amusing.
At 10 P.M. Mr Oetling conducted us to the grand fandango given in honour
of the reported victory over the French.
A Mexican fandango resembles a French _ducasse_, with the additional
excitement of gambling. It commences at 9.30, and continues till
daylight. The scene is lit up by numerous paper lanterns of various
colours. A number of benches are placed so as to form a large square, in
the centre of which the dancing goes on, the men and women gravely
smoking all the time. Outside the benches is the promenade bounded by
the gambling-tables and drinking-booths. On this occasion there must
have been thirty or forty gambling-tables, some of the smaller ones
presided over by old women, and others by small boys.
Monté is the favourite game, and the smallest silver coin can be staked,
or a handful of doubloons. Most of these tables were patronised by
crowds of all classes intent on gambling, with grave, serious faces
under their enormous hats. They never moved a muscle, whether they won
or lost.
Although the number of people at these fandangos is very great, yet the
whole affair is conducted with an order and regularity not to be
equalled in an assembly of a much higher class in Europe. If there ever
is a row, it is invariably caused by Texans from Brownsville. These
turbulent spirits are at once seized and cooled in the calaboose.
[2] It seems he has been dreadfully "riled" by the late Peterhoff
affair.
* * * * *
_8th April_ (Wednesday).--Poor Don Pablo was "taken ill" at breakfast,
and was obliged to go to bed. We were all much distressed at his
illness, which was brought on by over-anxiety connected with his
official duties; and the way he is bothered by English and
"Blue-nose"[3] skippers is enough to try any one.
Mr Behnsen and Mr Colville returned from Bagdad this afternoon, much
disgusted with the attractions of that city.
General Bee's orderly was assaulted in Matamoros yesterday by a renegado
with a six-shooter. This circumstance prevented the General from coming
to Matamoros as he had intended.
At 5 P.M. Captain Hancock and I crossed over to Brownsville, and were
conducted in a very smart ambulance to General Bee's quarters, and
afterwards to see a dress parade of the 3d Texas infantry.
Lieutenant-Colonel Buchel is the _working man_ of the corps, as he is a
professional soldier. The men were well clothed, though great variety
existed in their uniforms. Some companies wore blue, some grey, some had
French _kepis_, others wideawakes and Mexican hats. They were a fine
body of men, and really drilled uncommonly well. They went through a
sort of guard-mounting parade in a most creditable manner. About a
hundred out of a thousand were conscripts.[4]
After the parade, we adjourned to Colonel Luckett's to drink prosperity
to the 3d Regiment.
We afterwards had a very agreeable dinner with General Bee; Colonels
Luckett and Buchel dined also. The latter is a regular soldier of
fortune. He served in the French and Turkish armies, as also in the
Carlist and the Mexican wars, and I was told he had been a principal in
many affairs of honour; but he is a quiet and unassuming little man, and
although a sincere Southerner, is not nearly so violent against the
Yankees as Luckett.
At 10 P.M. Captain Hancock and myself went to a ball given by the
authorities of the "Heroica y invicta ciudad de Matamoros" (as they
choose to call it), in honour of the French defeat. General Bee and
Colonel Luckett also went to this fête, the invitation being the first
civility they had received since the violation of the Mexican soil in
the Davis-Mongomery affair. They were dressed in plain clothes, and
carried pistols concealed in case of accidents.
We all drove together from Brownsville to the Consulate, and entered the
ball-room _en masse_.
The outside of the municipal hall was lit up with some splendour, and
it was graced by a big placard, on which was written the amiable
sentiment, "_Muera Napoleon--viva Mejico!_" Semi-successful squibs and
crackers were let off at intervals. In the square also was a triumphal
arch, with an inscription to the effect that "the effete nations of
Europe might tremble." I made great friends with the gobernador and
administrador, who endeavoured to entice me into dancing, but I excused
myself by saying that Europeans were unable to dance in the graceful
Mexican fashion. Captain Hancock was much horrified when this
greasy-faced gobernador (who keeps a small shop) stated his intention of
visiting the Immortalité with six of his friends, and sleeping on board
for a night or two.
The dances were a sort of slow valse, and between the dances the girls
were planted up against the wall, and not allowed to be spoken to by any
one. They were mostly a plain-headed, badly-painted lot, and
ridiculously dressed.
[3] Nova-Scotian.
[4] During all my travels in the South I never saw a regiment so well
clothed or so well drilled as this one, which has never been in action,
or been exposed to much hardship.
* * * * *
_9th April_ (Thursday).--Captain Hancock and Mr Anderson left for Bagdad
in Mr Behnsen's carriage at noon.
I crossed over to Brownsville at 11.30, and dined with Colonels
Luckett, Buchel, and Duff, at about one o'clock. As we were all
colonels, and as every one called the other colonel _tout court_, it was
difficult to make out which was meant. They were obliged to confess that
Brownsville was about the rowdiest town of Texas, which was the most
lawless state in the Confederacy; but they declared they had never seen
an inoffensive man subjected to insult or annoyance, although the
shooting-down and stringing-up systems are much in vogue, being almost a
necessity in a thinly-populated state, much frequented by desperadoes
driven away from more civilised countries.
Colonel Luckett gave me a letter to General Van Dorn, whom they consider
the _beau ideal_ of a cavalry soldier. They said from time immemorial
the Yankees had been despised by the Southerners, as a race inferior to
themselves in courage and in honourable sentiments.
At 3 P.M. Colonel Buchel and I rode to Colonel Duff's camp, distant
about thirteen miles. I was given a Mexican saddle, in which one is
forced to sit almost in a standing position. The stirrups are very long,
and right underneath you, which throws back the feet.
Duff's regiment is called the Partisan Rangers. Although a fine lot of
men, they don't look well at a foot parade, on account of the small
amount of drill they have undergone, and the extreme disorder of their
clothing. They are armed with carbines and six-shooters.
I saw some men come in from a scouting expedition against the Indians,
300 miles off. They told me they were usually in the habit of scalping
an Indian when they caught him, and that they never spared one, as they
were such an untamable and ferocious race. Another habit which they have
learned from the Indians is, to squat on their heels in a most peculiar
manner. It has an absurd and extraordinary effect to see a quantity of
them so squatting in a row or in a circle.
The regiment had been employed in quelling a counter revolution of
Unionists in Texas. Nothing could exceed the rancour with which they
spoke of these renegadoes, as they called them, who were principally
Germans.
When I suggested to some of the Texans that they might as well bury the
body of Mongomery a little better, they did not at all agree with me,
but said it ought not to have been buried at all, but left hanging as a
warning to other evil-doers.
With regard to the contentment of their slaves, Colonel Duff pointed out
a good number they had with them, who had only to cross the river for
freedom if they wished it.
Colonel Buchel and I slept in Colonel Duff's tent, and at night we were
_serenaded_. The officers and men really sang uncommonly well, and they
finished with "God save the Queen!"
Colonel Duff comes from Perth. He was one of the leading characters in
the secession of Texas; and he said his brother was a banker in Dunkeld.
* * * * *
_10th April_ (Friday).--We roused up at daylight, and soon afterwards
Colonel Duff paraded some of his best men, to show off the Texan
horsemanship, of which they are very proud. I saw them lasso cattle, and
catch them by the tail at full gallop, and throw them by slewing them
round. This is called tailing. They pick small objects off the ground
when at full tilt, and, in their peculiar fashion, are beautiful riders;
but they confessed to me they could not ride in an English saddle, and
Colonel Duff told me that they could not jump a fence at all. They were
all extremely anxious to hear what I thought of the performance, and
their thorough good opinion of themselves was most amusing.
At 9 o'clock Colonel Buchel and I rode back to Brownsville; but as we
lost our way twice, and were enveloped in clouds of dust, it was not a
very satisfactory ride. Poor Captain Hancock must be luxuriating at
Bagdad; for with this wind the bar must be impassable to the boldest
mariner.
In the evening, a Mr ----, a Texan Unionist, or renegado, gave us his
sentiments at the Consulate, and drank a deal of brandy. He finished,
however, by the toast, "Them as wants to fight, let 'em fight--I don't."
* * * * *
_11th April_ (Saturday).--Mr ----, the Unionist, came to me this
morning, and said, in a contrite manner, "I hope, Kernel, that in the
fumes of brandy I didn't say anything offensive last night." I assured
him that he hadn't. I have now become comparatively accustomed and
reconciled to the necessity of shaking hands and drinking brandy with
every one.[5]
The ambulance returned from Bagdad to-day. Captain Hancock had managed
to cross the bar in Mr Oetling's steamer or lighter, but was very nearly
capsized.
I went to a grand supper, given by Mr Oetling in honour of Mr Hill's
departure for the city of Mexico. This, it appears, is the custom of the
country.
[5] This necessity does not exist except in Texas.
* * * * *
_12th April_ (Sunday).--I took an affectionate leave of Don Pablo,
Behnsen, Oetling, & Co., all of whom were in rather weak health on
account of last night's supper.
The excellent Maloney insisted on providing me with preserved meats and
brandy for my arduous journey through Texas. I feel extremely grateful
for the kindness of all these gentlemen, who rendered my stay in
Matamoros very agreeable. The hotel would have been intolerable.
I crossed to Brownsville at 3 P.M., where I was hospitably received by
my friend Ituria, who confesses to having made a deal of money lately by
cotton speculations. I attended evening parade, and saw General Bee,
Colonels Luckett, Buchel, Duff, and ----. The latter (who hanged
Mongomery) improves on acquaintance. General Bee took me for a drive in
his ambulance, and introduced me to Major Leon Smith, who captured the
Harriet Lane. The latter pressed me most vehemently to wait until
General Magruder's arrival, and he promised, if I did so, that I should
be sent to San Antonio in a first-rate ambulance. Major Leon Smith is a
seafaring man by profession, and was put by General Magruder in command
of one of the small steamers which captured the Harriet Lane at
Galveston, the crews of the steamers being composed of Texan cavalry
soldiers. He told me that the resistance offered after boarding was
feeble; and he declared that, had not the remainder of the Yankee
vessels escaped unfairly under flag of truce, they would likewise have
been taken.
After the Harriet Lane had been captured, she was fired into by the
other ships; and Major Smith told me that, his blood being up, he sent
the ex-master of the Harriet Lane to Commodore Renshaw, with a message
that, unless the firing was stopped, he would _massa_CREE the captured
crew. After hearing this, Commodore Renshaw blew up his ship, with
himself in her, after having given an order to the remainder, _sauve qui
peut_.
* * * * *
_13th April_ (Monday).--I breakfasted with General Bee, and took leave
of all my Brownsville friends.
M'Carthy is to give me four times the value of my gold in Confederate
notes.[6]
We left Brownsville for San Antonio at 11 A.M. Our vehicle was a roomy,
but rather over-loaded, four-wheel carriage, with a canvass roof, and
four mules. Besides M'Carthy, there was a third passenger, in the shape
of a young merchant of the Hebrew persuasion. Two horses were to join
us, to help us through the deep sand.
The country, on leaving Brownsville, is quite flat, the road, a natural
one, sandy and very dusty, and there are many small trees, principally
mosquites. After we had proceeded seven miles, we halted to water the
mules.
At 2 P.M. a new character appeared upon the scene, in the shape of an
elderly, rough-faced, dirty-looking man, who rode up, mounted on a sorry
nag. To my surprise he was addressed by M'Carthy with the title of
"Judge," and asked what he had done with our other horse. The judge
replied that it had already broken down, and had been left behind.
M'Carthy informs me that this worthy really is a magistrate or sort of
judge in his own district; but he now appears in the capacity of
assistant mule-driver, and is to make himself generally useful. I could
not help feeling immensely amused at this specimen of a Texan judge. We
started again about 3 P.M., and soon emerged from the mosquite bushes
into an open prairie eight miles long, quite desolate, and producing
nothing but a sort of rush; after which we entered a chaparal, or thick
covert of mosquite trees and high prickly pears. These border the track,
and are covered with bits of cotton torn from the endless trains of
cotton waggons. We met several of these waggons. Generally there were
ten oxen or six mules to a waggon carrying ten bales, but in deep sand
more animals are necessary. They journey very slowly towards
Brownsville, from places in the interior of Texas at least five hundred
miles distant. Want of water and other causes make the drivers and
animals undergo much hardship.
The judge rides on in front of us on his "Rosinante," to encourage the
mules. His back view reminds one in a ludicrous manner of the pictures
of Dr Syntax.
Mr Sargent, our portly driver, cheers his animals by the continual
repetition of the sentence, "Get up, now, you great long-eared G----d
d----d son of a ----."
At 5 P.M. we reached a well, with a farm or ranch close to it. Here we
halted for the night. A cotton train was encamped close to us, and a
lugubrious half-naked teamster informed us that three of his oxen had
been stolen last night.
In order to make a fire, we were forced to enter the chaparal for wood,
and in doing so we ran many prickles into our legs, which caused us
great annoyance afterwards, as they fester, if not immediately pulled
out.
The water at this well was very salt, and made very indifferent coffee.
M'Carthy called it the "meanest halting-place we shall have."
At 8 P.M. M'Carthy spread a bullock-rug on the sand near the carriage,
on which we should have slept very comfortably, had it not been for the
prickles, the activity of many fleas, and the incursions of wild hogs.
Mr Sargent and the Judge, with much presence of mind, had encamped
seventy yards off, and left to us the duty of driving away these hogs. I
was twice awoke by one of these unclean animals breathing in my face.
We did about twenty-one miles to-day.
[6] The value of Confederate paper has since decreased. At Charleston I
was offered six to one for my gold, and at Richmond eight to one.
* * * * *
_14th April_ (Tuesday).--When we roused up at 4 A.M. we found our
clothes saturated with the heavy dew; also that, notwithstanding our
exertions, the hogs had devoured the greatest part of our pet kid, our
only fresh meat.
After feeding our mules upon the Indian corn we had brought with us, and
drinking a little more salt-water coffee, the Judge "hitched in," and we
got under way at 5.30 A.M. The country just the same as yesterday--a
dead level of sand, mosquite trees, and prickly pears.
At 7.30 A.M. we reached "Leatham's ranch," and watered our mules. As the
water was tolerable, we refilled our water-barrels. I also washed my
face, during which operation Mr Sargent expressed great astonishment,
not unmingled with contempt.
At Leatham's we met a wealthy Texan speculator and contractor called
Major or Judge Hart.
I find that _our_ Judge is also an M.P., and that, in his capacity as a
member of the Texan legislature, he is entitled to be styled the
Honourable ---- ----.
At 9 A.M. we halted in the middle of a prairie, on which there was a
little grass for the mules, and we prepared to eat. In the midst of our
cooking, two deer came up quite close to us, and could easily have been
killed with rifles.
We saw quantities of rat-ranches, which are big sort of mole-hills,
composed of cow-dung, sticks, and earth, built by the rats.
Mr Sargent, our conductor, is a very rough customer--a fat, middle-aged
man, who never opens his mouth without an oath, strictly American in its
character. He and the judge are always snarling at one another, and both
are much addicted to liquor.
We live principally on bacon and coffee, but as the water and the bacon
are both very salt, this is very inconvenient. We have, however, got
some claret, and plenty of brandy.
During the mid-day halts Mr Sargent is in the habit of cooling himself
by removing his trousers (or pants), and, having gorged himself, he lies
down and issues his edicts to the judge as to the treatment of the
mules.
At 2.30 the M.P. hitched in again, and at 2.45 we reached a salt-water
arm of the sea called the "Aroyo del Colorado," about eighty yards
broad, which we crossed in a ferry-boat. Half an hour later we "struck
water" again, which, being superior to Leatham's, we filled up.
We are continually passing cotton trains going to Brownsville, also
government waggons with stores for the interior. Near every well is a
small farm or ranch, a miserable little wooden edifice surrounded by a
little cultivation. The natives all speak Spanish, and wear the Mexican
dress.
M'Carthy is very proud of his knowledge of the country, in spite of
which he is often out in his calculations. The different tracks are so
similar to one another, they are easily mistaken.
At 4.45 P.M. we halted at a much better place than yesterday. We are
obliged to halt where a little grass can be found for our mules.
Soon after we had unpacked for the night, six Texan Rangers, of "Wood's"
regiment, rode up to us. They were very picturesque fellows; tall, thin,
and ragged, but quite gentlemanlike in their manners.
We are always to sleep in the open until we arrive at San Antonio, and I
find my Turkish lantern most useful at night.[7]
[7] A lantern for a candle, made of white linen and wire, which
collapses when not in use. They are always used in the streets of
Constantinople. The Texans admired it immensely.
* * * * *
_15th April_ (Wednesday).--I slept well last night in spite of the tics
and fleas, and we started at 5.30 P.M. After passing a dead rattlesnake
eight feet long, we reached water at 7 A.M.
At 9 A.M. we espied the cavalcade of General Magruder passing us by a
parallel track about half a mile distant. M'Carthy and I jumped out of
the carriage, and I ran across the prairie to cut him off, which I just
succeeded in doing by borrowing the spare horse of the last man in the
train.
I galloped up to the front, and found the General riding with a lady who
was introduced to me as Mrs ----, an undeniably pretty woman, wife to an
officer on Magruder's staff, and she is naturally the object of intense
attention to all the good-looking officers who accompany the General
through this desert.
General Magruder, who commands in Texas, is a fine soldierlike man, of
about fifty-five, with broad shoulders, a florid complexion, and bright
eyes. He wears his whiskers and mustaches in the English fashion, and he
was dressed in the Confederate grey uniform. He was kind enough to beg
that I would turn back and accompany him in his tour through Texas. He
had heard of my arrival, and was fully determined I should do this. He
asked after several officers of my regiment whom he had known when he
was on the Canadian frontier. He is a Virginian, a great talker, and has
always been a great ally of English officers.
He insisted that M'Carthy and I should turn and dine with him,
promising to provide us with horses to catch up Mr Sargent.
After we had agreed to do this, I had a long and agreeable conversation
with the General, who spoke of the Puritans with intense disgust, and of
the first importation of them as "_that pestiferous crew of the
Mayflower_;" but he is by no means rancorous against individual Yankees.
He spoke very favourably of M'Clellan, whom he knew to be a gentleman,
clever, and personally brave, though he might lack moral courage to face
responsibility. Magruder had commanded the Confederate troops at
Yorktown which opposed M'Clellan's advance. He told me the different
dodges he had resorted to, to blind and deceive the latter as to his
(Magruder's) strength; and he spoke of the intense relief and amusement
with which he had at length seen M'Clellan with his magnified army begin
to break ground before miserable earthworks, defended only by 8000 men.
Hooker was in his regiment, and was "essentially a mean man and a liar."
Of Lee and Longstreet he spoke in terms of the highest admiration.
Magruder was an artilleryman, and has been a good deal in Europe; and
having been much stationed on the Canadian frontier, he became
acquainted with many British officers, particularly those in the 7th
Hussars and Guards.
He had gained much credit from his recent successes at Galveston and
Sabine Pass, in which he had the temerity to attack heavily-armed
vessels of war with wretched river steamers manned by Texan cavalrymen.
His principal reason for visiting Brownsville was to settle about the
cotton trade. He had issued an edict that half the value of cotton
exported must be imported in goods for the benefit of the country
(government stores). The President had condemned this order as illegal
and despotic.
The officers on Magruder's Staff are a very good-looking, gentlemanlike
set of men. Their names are--Major Pendleton, Major Wray, Captain De
Ponté, Captain Alston, Captain Turner, Lieutenant-Colonel M'Neil,
Captain Dwyer, Dr Benien, Lieutenant Stanard, Lieutenant Yancey, and
Major Magruder. The latter is nephew to the General, and is a
particularly good-looking young fellow. They all live with their chief
on an extremely agreeable footing, and form a very pleasant society. At
dinner I was put in the post of honour, which is always fought for with
much acrimony--viz., the right of Mrs ----. After dinner we had numerous
songs. Both the General and his nephew sang; so also did Captain Alston,
whose corpulent frame, however, was too much for the feeble camp-stool,
which caused his sudden disappearance in the midst of a song with a loud
crash. Captain Dwyer played the fiddle very well, and an aged and
slightly-elevated militia general brewed the punch and made several
"elegant" speeches. The latter was a rough-faced old hero, and gloried
in the name of M'Guffin. On these festive occasions General Magruder
wears a red woollen cap, and fills the president's chair with great
aptitude.
It was 11.30 before I could tear myself away from this agreeable party;
but at length I effected my exit amidst a profusion of kind expressions,
and laden with heaps of letters of introduction.
* * * * *
_16th April_ (Thursday).--Now our troubles commenced. Seated in Mexican
saddles, and mounted on raw-boned mustangs, whose energy had been a good
deal impaired by a month's steady travelling on bad food, M'Carthy and I
left the hospitable mess-tent about midnight, and started in search of
Mr Sargent and his vehicle. We were under the guidance of two Texan
rangers.
About daylight we hove in sight of "Los Animos," a desolate farmhouse,
in the neighbourhood of which Mr Sargent was supposed to be encamped;
but nowhere could we find any traces of him.
We had now reached the confines of a dreary region, sixty miles in
extent, called "The Sands," in comparison with which the prairie and
chaparal were luxurious.
The sand being deep and the wind high, we could not trace the carriage;
but we soon acquired a certainty that our perfidious Jehu had decamped,
leaving us behind.
We floundered about in the sand, cursing our bad luck, cursing Mr
Sargent, and even the good Magruder, as the indirect cause of our
wretchedness. Our situation, indeed, was sufficiently deplorable. We
were without food or water in the midst of a desert: so were our horses,
which were nearly done up. Our bones ached from the Mexican saddles;
and, to complete our misery, the two rangers began to turn restive and
talk of returning with the horses. At this, the climax of our
misfortunes, I luckily hit upon a Mexican, who gave us intelligence of
our carriage; and with renewed spirits, but very groggy horses, we gave
chase.
But never did Mr Sargent's mules walk at such a pace; and it was 9 A.M.
before we overtook them. My animal had been twice on his head, and
M'Carthy was green in the face with fatigue and rage. Mr Sargent
received us with the greatest affability; and we were sensible enough
not to quarrel with him, although M'Carthy had made many allusions as to
the advisability of shooting him.
We had been nine and a half hours in the saddle, and were a good deal
exhausted. Our sulky Texan guides were appeased with bacon, coffee, and
$5 in coin.
We halted till 2 P.M., and then renewed our struggle through the deep
sandy wilderness; but though the services of the Judge's horse were put
into requisition, we couldn't progress faster than two miles an hour.
Mule-driving is an art of itself, and Mr Sargent is justly considered a
_professor_ at it.
He is always yelling--generally imprecations of a serio-comic
character. He rarely flogs his mules; but when one of them rouses his
indignation by extraordinary laziness, he roars out, "Come here, Judge,
with a big club, and give him h----ll." Whilst the animal is receiving
such discipline as comes up to the judge's idea of the infernal regions,
Mr Sargent generally remarks, "I wish you was Uncle Abe, I'd make you
move, you G----d d----n son of a ----." His idea of perfect happiness
seems to be to have Messrs Lincoln and Seward in the shafts. Mules
travel much better when other mules are in front of them; and another
dodge to which Mr Sargent continually resorts is, to beat the top of the
carriage and kick the foot-board, which makes a noise, and gratifies the
mules quite as much as licking them. Mr Sargent accounts for his
humanity by saying, "It's the worst plan in the world licking niggers or
mules, because the more you licks 'em, the more they wants it."
We reached or "struck" water at 5.30 P.M.; but, in spite of its good
reputation, it was so salt as to be scarcely drinkable. A number of
cotton waggons, and three carriages belonging to Mr Ward, were also
encamped with us.
We have only made sixteen miles to-day.
* * * * *
_17th April_ (Friday).--Having spent last night in a Mexican saddle, our
bullock-rug in the sand appeared to me a most luxurious bed.
We hitched in at 5 A.M., and struck water at 9 A.M., which, though muddy
in appearance, was not so bad to drink.
I walked ahead with the Judge, who, when sober, is a well-informed and
sensible man. Mr Sargent and I are great friends, and, rough as he is,
we get on capitally together.
A Mr Ward, with three vehicles--a rival of Mr Sargent's--is travelling
in our company. He drove his buggy against a tree and knocked its top
off, to the intense delight of the latter.
We breakfasted under difficulties. The wind being high, it drove up the
sand in clouds and spoiled our food.
Our travelling companion, Mr ----, is a poor little weakly Israelite,
but very inoffensive, although he speaks with a horrible Yankee twang,
which Mr Sargent and the Judge are singularly free from.
We went on again at 2 P.M. I had a long talk with a big mulatto slave
woman, who was driving one of Ward's waggons. She told me she had been
raised in Tennessee, and that three years ago she had been taken from
her mistress for a bad debt, to their mutual sorrow. "Both," she said,
"cried bitterly at parting." She doesn't like San Antonio at all, "too
much hanging and murdering for me," she said. She had seen a man hanged
in the middle of the day, just in front of her door.
Mr Sargent bought two chickens and some eggs at a ranch, but one of the
chickens got up a tree, and was caught and eaten by the Ward faction.
Our camp to-night looks very pretty by the light of the fires.
* * * * *
_18th April_ (Saturday).--At daylight we discovered, to our horror, that
three of our mules were absent; but after an hour's search they were
brought back in triumph by the Judge.
This delayed our start till 6.30 A.M.
I walked ahead again with the Judge, who explained to me that he was a
"senator," or member of the Upper House of Texas--"just like your House
of Lords," he said. He gets $5 a-day whilst sitting, and is elected for
four years.[8]
We struck water at 8.30 A.M., and bought a lamb for a dollar. We also
bought some beef, which in this country is dried in strips by the sun,
after being cut off the bullock, and it keeps good for any length of
time. To cook it, the strips are thrown for a few minutes on hot embers.
One of our mules was kicked last night. Mr Sargent rubbed the wound with
brandy, which did it much good.
Soon after leaving this well, Mr Sargent discovered that, by following
the track of Mr Ward's waggons, he had lost the way. He swore
dreadfully, and solaced himself with so much gin, that when we arrived
at Sulphur Creek at 12.30, both he and the Judge were, by their own
confession, _quite tight_.
We halted, ate some salt meat, and bathed in this creek, which is about
forty yards broad and three feet deep.