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Life in Dixie during the War, 1861-1862-1863-1864-1865
General Mills said that during the rendition of this beautiful hymn, not even the breaking of a twig, or the changing of a footstep broke the silence of the midnight tranquillity. The rain drops ceased to fall; the electricity darted harmlessly through the tree tops; and the muttering of the thunder lulled.
After a most impressive silence of several minutes, the same voice, which had rendered the hymn so effectually, repeated from memory an appropriate passage of Scripture and proceeded to expatiate upon it. He had not uttered a dozen words before another flash of lightning revealed the upturned heads and listening attitudes of the men composing that weird congregation, and each one of them knew as if by instinct that he was going to hear something that would help him on his journey to the Land of Beulah. Strong in the faith, he carried many of the truths and promises of the Holy Word within his mind, and now, as many times before, he opened them by the magic key of memory and unfolded to view their unsearchable riches. He begged his fellow-men and comrades in arms to accept them without money and without price – to accept them that they might wear kingly robes and royal diadems, and be with Jesus in His Father’s regal mansions throughout the grand eternities. And as he told the old, old story of divine love, it assumed a contemporaneous interest and seemed a living present reality. Every man who heard it felt the living force and energizing influence of the theme. And thus by earnest, aggressive appeals, he exerted a wonderful power for good over the minds of his hearers; and those men, even now with phantom hands pointing gaunt fingers at them, by their deep interest testified to the warm suffusing purpose which made itself felt in every word that he uttered, as he told of the Fatherhood of God and the ever-present sympathy of a benignant and infinite parent, who delighted not in the death of sinners, but rather that all should come to Him and have eternal life. General Mills added that, as the fine resonant voice of the speaker penetrated the dense forest and found its way to his hearers in distinct enunciation of well-chosen words, the deep-toned thunder emphasized the impressive points, and made it a scene which for grandeur and sublimity has never been surpassed, while the vivid flashes of lightning revealed again and again the earnest face and solemn mien of my brother, Lieutenant Thomas J. Stokes, of the Tenth Texas Infantry of Cleburne’s Division.
CHAPTER XXIV
Picking up minie balls around Atlanta – Exchanging them for breadAfter mingling renewed vows of allegiance to our cause, and expressions of a willing submission to the consequences of defeat – privations and evil dire, if need be – with my morning orison; yet I could not be oblivious to the fact that I was hungry, very hungry. And there was another, whose footsteps were becoming more and more feeble day by day, and whose voice, when heard at all, was full of the pathos of despair, who needed nourishment that could not be obtained, and consolation, which it seemed a mockery to offer.
In vain did I look round for relief. There was nothing left in the country to eat. Yea, a crow flying over it would have failed to discover a morsel with which to appease its hunger; for a Sheridan by another name had been there with his minions of destruction, and had ruthlessly destroyed every vestige of food and every means of support. Every larder was empty, and those with thousands and tens of thousands of dollars, were as poor as the poorest, and as hungry too. Packing trunks, in every house to which refugees had returned, contained large amounts of Confederate money. We had invested all we possessed except our home, and land and negroes, in Confederate bonds, and these were now inefficient for purchasing purposes. Gold and silver had we none. A more favored few had a little of those desirable mediums of purchase, and sent a great distance for supplies; but they offered no relief to those who had stayed at home and borne the brunt of battle, and saved their property from the destroyers’ torch.
What was I to do? Sit down and wait for the inevitable starvation? No; I was not made of such stuff. I had heard that there had been a provision store opened in Atlanta for the purpose of bartering provisions for munitions of war – anything that could be utilized in warfare. Minie balls were particularly desirable. I therefore took Telitha by the apron, and had a little talk with her, and when I was through she understood that something was up that would bring relief to certain organs that had become quite troublesome in their demands, and she was anxious to take part in the performance, whatever that might be. I went also to my mother, and imparted to her my plans of operation, and she took that pathetic little backward step peculiar to herself on occasions which tried her soul, and with quivering lip she assented in approving, though almost inaudible words.
With a basket in either hand, and accompanied by Telitha, who carried one that would hold about a peck, and two old dull case-knives, I started to the battle-fields around Atlanta to pick up the former missiles of death to exchange for food to keep us from starving.
It was a cold day. The wind was very sharp, and over the ground, denuded of forest trees and undergrowth, the wind was blowing a miniature gale. Our wraps were inadequate, and how chilled we became in that rude November blast! Mark you, it was the 30th of November, 1864. But the colder we were, the faster we walked, and in an incredibly short time we were upon the battle-field searching for lead.
I made it a point to keep very near the road in the direction of Atlanta, and soon found myself on the very spot where the Confederate magazine stood, the blowing up of which, by Confederate orders, shook the very earth, and was distinctly heard thirty-five or forty miles distant. An exclamation of glad surprise from Telitha carried me to her. She had found a bonanza, and was rapidly filling her basket with that which was more valuable to us than gold. In a marshy place, encrusted with ice, innumerable bullets, minie balls, and pieces of lead seemed to have been left by the irony of fate to supply sustenance to hungry ones, and employment to the poor, as all the winter those without money to send to more favored and distant points found sure returns from this lead mine. It was so cold! our feet were almost frozen, and our hands had commenced to bleed, and handling cold, rough lead cramped them so badly that I feared we would have to desist from our work before filling the baskets.
Lead! Blood! Tears! O how suggestive! Lead, blood and tears, mingled and commingled. In vain did I try to dash the tears away. They would assert themselves and fall upon lead stained with blood. “God of mercy, if this be Thy holy will, give me fortitude to bear it uncomplainingly,” was the heart-felt invocation that went up to the throne of grace from over lead, blood and tears, that fearful day. For relief, tears did not suffice. I wanted to cry aloud; nature would not be satisfied with less, and I cried like a baby, long and loud. Telitha caught the spirit of grief, and cried too. This ebullition of feelings on her part brought me to a realization of my duty to her, as well as to my poor patient mother to whom the day must seem very long, and I tried to stifle my sobs and lamentations. I wondered if she had the forebodings of coming bereavement that were lacerating my own heart. I did not doubt but that she had, and I cried in sympathy for her.
At length our baskets were filled, and we took up our line of march to the desolated city. There were no labyrinths to tread, no streets to follow, and an occasional question secured information that enabled us to find the “commissary” without delay. Telitha was very ambitious that I should appear a lady, and wanted me to deposit my load of lead behind some place of concealment, while we went on to deliver hers, and then let her go back for mine. But I was too much a Confederate soldier for that, and walked bravely in with my heavy, precious load.
A courteous gentleman in a faded grey uniform, evidently discharged because of wounds received in battle, approached and asked what he could do for me. “I have heard that you give provisions for lead,” I replied, “and I have brought some to exchange.” What seemed an interminable silence ensued, and I felt without seeing that I was undergoing a sympathetic scrutiny, and that I was recognized as a lady “to the manor born.”
“What would you like in exchange,” he asked. “If you have sugar, and coffee, and meal, a little of each if you please,” I timidly said. “I left nothing to eat at home.” The baskets of lead were removed to the rear and weighed, and in due time returned to me filled to the brim with sugar, coffee, flour, meal, lard, and the nicest meat I had seen in a long time.
“O, sir,” I said, “I did not expect so much.”
“You have not yet received what is due you,” this good man replied, and handed me a certificate which he assured me would secure as much more on presentation.
Joy had gone out of my life, and I felt no thrill of that kind; but I can never describe the satisfaction I experienced as I lifted two of those baskets, and saw Telitha grasp the other one, and turned my face homeward.
CHAPTER XXV
The Decatur women’s struggle for bread – Sweet singing in hard places – Pleasant visitors – I make a trip to Alabama – The news of my brother’s deathThe tug of war was upon us from the mountains to the sea-board, and ingenious was the woman who devised means to keep the wolf, hungry and ravenous, from the door. The depreciation of our currency, and its constant diminution in value, had rendered it an unreliable purchasing commodity, and we had nothing to give in exchange for food. I, therefore, felt that I had literally rubbed against Aladdin’s lamp when I saw much needed food, good and palatable, given in exchange for minie balls, and for any kind of metal convertible into destructive missiles, and I was anxious that others should share the benefit accruing from the lead mines mentioned in a former sketch. In pursuance of this humane desire, I proclaimed its discovery and results from house to house; for, mark you, we had no “Daily Courier,” nor messenger boy to convey the glad tidings to the half-famished women and children in and around Decatur. And if my words could have been changed into diamonds by the magic wand of a fairy, not one of those starving people would have accepted the change of diamonds for bread.
It required only a short time to raise a large company of women, girls and little boys, who were ready to do service for themselves and their country by digging lead with case-knives from mines providentially furnished them. And was it not serving the cause of the Confederacy? I thought so; and never walked with more independent step than when acting as generalissimo of that band of devoted, patriotic women, en route to the “lead mines” around Atlanta. Telitha, too, evidently felt that she was an important adjunct in the mining enterprise, and a conspicuous personage in the scenes being enacted, and emphasized her opinion by strong and suggestive gesticulation. On this occasion she playfully wrenched from my hand the small vessel with which I had supplied myself and which I carried on the former trip, and substituted a larger one, while for herself she got at least a half-bushel measure.
All who remember the month of December, 1864, know that it abounded in clouds and rain and sleet, and was intensely cold in the Confederate States of America; and in the latitude embracing Atlanta, such severity of weather had never been known to the oldest inhabitant. But what mattered it? Each one in that little band of women was connected by a bright link to the illustrious armies that were enduring greater privation and hardship than those to which she was exposed, and counted it a willing oblation upon his country’s altar, and why should she not prove faithful to the end, and suffer the pangs of hunger and privation too?
The work of picking up minie balls began as soon as we reached the battle-field, and, consequently, we carried several pounds some distance unnecessarily. The “mine” proper, I doubt not, could have filled several wagons. As “a little fun now and then is relished by the wisest men,” I found a grim smile asserting itself at the quaint and ready wit of those estimable girls, the Misses Morton, whose Christian names I have forgotten and who, alas! have long since joined the silent majority. One of them assumed the character of a Confederate soldier and the other that of a Federal, and the conversation carried on between them, as they “exchanged coffee and tobacco,” was rich, rare and racy. The exchange having been effected, the signal of combat was given. “Look out, Billy Yank!” “Look out, Johnnie Reb!” were simultaneous warnings from opposing forces, and minie balls whizzed through the air, much to the merriment of the little boys who wished themselves men, that they might be with their fathers, whizzing minie balls from musket mouths.
The sham battle over, the work of digging lead was resumed, and in an amazingly short time our vessels were filled to overflowing. I watched Telitha with interest. She was eager to fill her basket, and more than once she said, “Me full!” and added a little gutteral laugh that always indicated pleasure. Her attempt to raise the basket from the ground, and her utter failure to do so surprised her amazingly, and her disappointment was pathetic. With great reluctance she saw her treasure reduced to her capacity of handling. Each member of the party experienced similar disappointment on attempting to raise her burden, and we left more exhumed lead and other valuables than we carried away.
We took up our line of march, and as there were no obstructions in the way (for, be it remembered, Sherman had been there, and with torch and explosive removed all obstructions save the standing chimneys and carcasses of horses and cattle shot by his order to prevent the possibility of use to the rebels), we struck a bee-line to the commissary. As the first to take advantage of this industry, I took the lead, and the vigor of young womanhood, and “a heart for every fate,” gave elasticity to my steps, and I soon outdistanced even the girls. In due time we reached the commissary, and in a short while a most satisfactory exchange was made, thanks to one whose great heart beat in unison with ours, and in lieu of the heavy burden which we laid down, we picked up food for the nourishment of our tired bodies and those of our loved ones at home. Oh, how light, comparatively, it seemed! I verily believe if it had weighed the same number of pounds, it would have seemed lighter, and the change would have seemed restful. “Good-bye, noble ladies and sisters in a righteous cause,” was the parting salutation of our no less noble benefactor.
With our respective packages of food we again turned our faces homeward, solemn as a funeral march, for, strive against them as we would, we all had forebodings of ill, and the swaying of our bodies and our footsteps kept time with the pulsations of our sad hearts. I fancied as I approached standing chimneys and other evidences of destroyed homes, that the spirit of Sherman, in the guise of an evil spirit, was laughing over the destruction his diabolism had wrought. In the midst of these reflections a song, which for sweetness and tranquilizing melody I have seldom heard equalled and never surpassed, broke the stillness of the scene and added to the melancholy interest of the occasion. It was the well known ballad, then familiar to every child in the Confederacy, “When this Cruel War is Over,” and sung by those gifted sisters mentioned as a part of the lead digging company. The pure, sweet soprano voice of one of the girls put to flight the spirit of Sherman, and when it was joined by the flute-like alto of the others, every evil spirit within and without was exorcised, and the spirit of submission took its place. And yet as the words rang out and found an echo in my own heart, I had to walk very straight, and turn my head neither to the right nor to the left, lest I betray the copious tears trickling down my cheeks. At length pent-up feelings burst the fetters, and an audible sob removed restraint, and we cried as women burdened with great sorrow. Precious tears! Nature’s kind alleviator in time of trouble.
“The day was cold and dark and dreary,And it rained and the winds were never weary,”and yet I was nerved for its duties and toil by the consciousness of having met, uncomplainingly, the work which the preservation of my own principles made me willing to endure. Several days subsequent to this trip to Atlanta, the Morton girls came running in and told me that we had some delightful friends at the “Swanton place,” who requested to see us. My mother was too much exhausted by anxiety and waiting for that which never came, to go, but approved my doing so. I, therefore, donned my sun-bonnet and went; and whom should I meet but Mrs. Trenholm and her sweet young daughters, Essie and Lila? I was delighted to see them, and invited them to go home with me. Ma received them in a spirit of cordial hospitality, and they were invited to remain at her house. Without hesitation, Mrs. Trenholm accepted the proffered kindness, and returned to her wayside rendezvous only to send her trunks, bedding and other household goods. And truly the coming of that saintly woman and those lovely girls was a rare benediction, especially at that time. Day by day ma looked in vain for tidings from “the front” – wherever that might be – and day by day her health and strength was perceptibly weakened by disappointment. Mrs. Trenholm’s sympathy with her in her suspense regarding the operations of Hood’s army, and the fate of her beloved son, was both touching and consoling. Seeing that my mother and myself were hoping almost against hope, she endeavored to bring us to a realization of that fact, and a complete submission to the will of God, even though that will deprived us of our loved one. All of her Christian arguments and consolations had been pondered over and over by mother and daughter, but they never seemed so sweet and potent as when coming in the chaste and simple language of a precious saintly woman.
With the tact peculiar to the refined of every clime and locality, Mrs. Trenholm assumed management of the culinary department, and her dinner-pot hung upon our crane several weeks, and daily sent forth appetizing odors of bacon and peas. How we enjoyed those peas and that bacon, and the soup seasoned with the only condiments at our command – salt and red pepper – and the good hoe cakes! Mrs. Trenholm had a large sack of cow peas, and a sack of dried fruit, and other articles of food which she had provided for herself and her family before she left Southwest Georgia en route to her home in Marietta, which she left in obedience to the order of William Tecumseh Sherman, and which she learned, before reaching Decatur, had shared the fate of nearly all other homes which had to be thus abandoned. Although magnanimously proffered, we were averse to sharing Mrs. Trenholm’s well-prepared and ofttimes tempting cuisine, unless our proportion of food equaled hers; and fearing even the appearance of scanty supplies, I set about to gather up “the miners,” so that we might appoint a day to again go lead digging, if that which we left in as many little heaps as there were members of the company had been, in the interim, gathered up by others.
On former occasions I had led my company to victory over that malignant general left by Sherman to complete his work, and styled by him “General Starvation,” and they were willing to go wherever I led. Now, I had two recruits of whom I was very proud. Telitha, too, had gathered from observation that the sweet young Trenholm girls were going with us, and she set about to provide very small baskets for their use, which, with gestures amusing and appropriate, she made us understand were large enough to contain all the lead that girls so pretty and so ladylike ought to carry. To their credit, however, they repudiated that idea, and carried larger vessels. By appointment the “lead diggers” were to meet at the tan-yard, those arriving first to wait until the entire number came. “Man proposes and God disposes.” Just as my last glove was drawn on, Telitha, ever on the alert, said “Morton, Morton,” and I looked and saw the girls coming. “We needn’t go – the commissary has folded its tents, and silently stolen away,” was the voluntary announcement. Imagine my consternation and disappointment – the last hope of supply cut off! Ma saw the effect upon me, and said in a more hopeful voice than was her wont, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” And good Mrs. Trenholm said her sack of peas was like the cruse of oil that never seemed to diminish in quantity, however much was taken out of it. An examination, too, of our own resources was quite gratifying; but I knew I ought to be “providing for a rainy day.”
I pass now over an interval which brings me to the latter part of January, 1865. My sister returned home from Madison and spent several weeks with us, but had accepted an offer to teach at Grantville, on the LaGrange and West Point Railroad. I had a precious aunt, my mother’s sister, Mrs. Annie Watson, whom I loved dearly, and of whom I had not heard a word since the interruption of the mail communication by the siege of Atlanta, and my mother’s frequent mention of her determined me to go and see if this beloved aunt was living, and, if so, in what condition. I knew she was one of the favored ones of earth, viewed from a worldly standpoint, but I knew not what changes had come over her or her worldly possessions. Rumor conveyed startling accounts of the atrocious deeds of Wilson’s raiders, and I knew that they were operating in that rich cotton belt of Alabama which embraced my aunt’s plantation and beautiful home. I could scarcely hope that that home and its valuable appointments had escaped the cupidity of an organized band of robbers protected by the United States Government.
When I think of my mother’s fond affection for her children, and her tender solicitude for their welfare, I am constrained to think that she thought I was endowed with a sort of charmed existence not subject to the perils which beset the pathway of ordinary mortals, and hence her ready acquiescence to my proposition to undertake a journey of many miles, under circumstances of imminent danger, inspired with confidence amounting to certainty that I would be preserved by an All-wise Providence for future usefulness. I had very little preparation to make for the contemplated trip. A pretty, small-checked dress, which had done service through many a changing scene, and was good for as many more, and a hat – well, I beg to be excused from describing it – and gloves upon which I had expended skill in darning until it was difficult to perceive where the darning ceased and the glove began, completed my toilet, and I bade to all appearance a cheerful good-bye to my mother and kind friends, and went by private conveyance to Fairburn. There I took the train for Cowles’ Station, Alabama.
Nothing of particular interest transpired on the way. My country was prostrate and bleeding from many lacerations, and my tears flowed so freely that by the time I reached my railroad destination I had a very sick headache. That “there is a providence that shapes our ends” was again illustrated. Some of my aunt’s neighbors, who knew me at least by name, were at the station, and kindly offered to carry me to her residence, a distance of ten miles. I found my aunt in feeble health, and all alone save her usual dusky attendant. Her only child, Mrs. Mary E. Seaman, had gone to Tuskeegee to see her little daughter, who was there going to school in care of a friend and relative, Col. Smith Graham. My closest scrutiny failed to detect any change in my aunt’s mode of living. The same retinue of servants came into the house to see and shake hands with mistress’ niece, and after many questions about “our white folks in Georgia,” retired from my presence with the same courtesy that had marked their demeanor towards me in ante-bellum days.