FEMALE RECRUITING OFFICERS
[J. L. Underwood.]
The young women and girls brightly and cordially cheered every
Confederate volunteer. Nothing was too good for him, and smiles of
sisterly esteem and love met him at every turn. There was a sort of
intoxication in the welcome and applause that everywhere greeted the
young volunteer. To many it was full pay for the sacrifice. Many an
expectant bride sadly but resolutely postponed marriage, and sent her
affianced lover to the army.
"Wouldst thou have me love thee, dearest, With a woman's proudest heart,
Which shall ever hold thee nearest,
Shrined in its inmost part?
"Listen then! My country's calling On her sons to meet the foe!
Leave these groves of rose and myrtle;
Like young Koerner, scorn the turtle
When the eagle screams above."
But there were many young men who did not want to hear Koerner's war
eagle scream. They wanted a battle, but they wanted to
"smell it afar
off." They believed in the righteousness of the war more strongly than
anybody. Yes, many of them were the first to don the blue cockade of
the "minute men;" that is, the militia organized with the avowed
object of fighting on a moment's warning. They were ever so ready to
be soldiers at home for a "minute," but held back when it came to
volunteering for six months, a year, or three years.
Then the young
women would turn loose their little tongues, and their jeers and
sarcasm would drive the skulker clear out of their society, and
eventually in self-defense he would have to "jine the cavalry," or
infantry one, to get away from the darts of woman's tongue. A hornet
could not sting like that little tongue.
One of these girls was a lone sister, with many brothers, in a very
wealthy family, which we will call the DeLanceys, in one of the
richest counties of Alabama. A cavalry company had been organized and
drilled for the war, but not a DeLancey's name was on the roll. The
company was to leave the home camp for the front. The whole county
gathered to cheer them and bid them good-bye. Presents and honors were
showered upon the young patriots. The sister mentioned above owned a
very fine favorite horse, named "Starlight," which she presented to
the company in a touching little speech, which brought tears to many
eyes, and which wound up with the following apostrophe,
"Farewell,
Starlight! I may never see you again; but, thank God, you are the
bravest of the DeLanceys."
All through the war cowards were between two fires, that of the
Federals at the front and that of the women in the rear.
MRS. SUSAN ROY CARTER
[Thomas Nelson Page.]
Old Mathews and Gloucester, Virginia, as they are affectionately
termed by those who knew them in the old times, were filled with
colonial families and were the home of a peculiarly refined and
aristocratic society. Miss Roy was the daughter of William H. Roy,
esq., of "Green Plains," Mathews county, and of Anne Seddon, a sister
of Hon. James A. Seddon, Secretary of War of the Confederate States.
She was a noted beauty and belle, even in a society that was known
throughout Virginia for its charming and beautiful women. Her
loveliness, radiant girlhood, and early womanhood is still talked of
among the survivors of that time. Old men, who have seen the whole
order of society in which they spent their youths pass from the scene,
still refresh themselves with the memory of her brilliant beauty and
of her gracious charms. She was the centre and idol of that circle.
In 1855, on November 7th, she gave her hand and heart to Dr. Thomas H.
Carter, esq., of Shirley, and from that time to the day of her death
their life was one of the ideal unions which justify the saying that
"marriages are made in heaven." "It has always been a honeymoon with
us," he used to say. The young couple almost immediately settled at
"Pampatike," on the Pamunkey, an old colonial estate.
Here Mrs. Carter
lived for thirty-four years, occupied in the duties of mistress of a
great plantation, dispensing that gracious hospitality which made it
noted even in Old Virginia; shedding the light of a beautiful life on
all about her, and exemplifying in herself the character to which the
South points with pride and affection as a refutation of every adverse
criticism.
Such a plantation was a world in itself, and the life upon it was such
as to entail on the master and mistress labors and responsibilities
such as are not often produced under any other conditions. In addition
to the demands of hospitality, which were exacting and constant, the
conduct of such a large establishment, with the care of over one
hundred and fifty servants, whose eyes were ever turned to their
mistress, called forth the exercise of the highest powers from those
who felt themselves answerable to the Great Master of All for the full
performance of their duty. No one ever performed this duty with more
divine devotion than did this young mistress. She was at once the
friend and the servant of every soul on the place. Mrs.
Carter was a
fine illustration of the rare quality of the character formed by such
conditions. In sickness and in health she watched over, looked after,
and cared for all within her province.
It is the boast of the South, and one founded on truth, that when
during the war the men were withdrawn from the plantations to do their
duty on the field, the women rose to the full measure of every demand,
filling often, under new conditions that would have tried the utmost
powers of the men themselves, a place to which only men had been
supposed equal.
When, on the outbreak of war, her husband was among the first who took
the field as a captain of artillery, Mrs. Carter took charge of the
plantation and during all the stress of that trying period she
conducted it with an ability that would have done honor to a man of
the greatest experience. The Pampatike plantation, lying not far from
West Point, the scene of so many operations during the war, was within
the "debatable land" that lay between the lines and was alternately
swept by both armies. The position was peculiarly delicate, and often
called for the exercise of rare tact and courage on the part of the
mistress. It was known to the enemy that her husband was a gallant and
rising officer and a near relative of General Lee, and the plantation
was a marked one.
On one occasion a small party of mounted Federal troops on a foraging
expedition visited the place and were engaged in looting, when a party
of Confederate cavalry suddenly appeared on the scene, and a brisk
little skirmish took place in the garden and yard. The Federals were
caught by surprise, and getting the worst of it, broke and retreated
across the lawn, with the enemy close to their heels in hot chase. A
Union trooper was shot from his horse and fell just in front of the
house, but rising, tried to run on. Mrs. Carter, seeing his danger,
rushed out, calling to him to come to her and she would protect him.
Turning, he staggered to her, but though she sheltered him, his wound
was mortal, and he died at her feet. The surprise and defeat of this
party having been reported at West Point, a stronger force was sent up
to wreak vengeance on the place. But on learning of Mrs.
Carter's act
in rushing out amid the flying bullets to save this man at the risk of
her life, the officer in command posted a guard, and orders were given
that the place should be henceforth respected.
The hospital service on the Confederate side during the war, as
wretched as it was, without medicines or surgical appliances, would
have been far more dreadful but for the devotion with which the
Southern women consecrated themselves to it. Every woman was a nurse
if she were within reach of wounds and sickness. Every house was a
hospital if it was needed; and to their honor be it said that the
principle enunciated by Dr. Dunant, and finally established in the
creation of the Red Cross Society, found its exemplification here some
time before the Geneva Congress. To them a wounded man of whatever
side was sacred, and to his service they consecrated themselves.
Unhappily, devotion, even as divine as theirs, could not make up for
all.
At the battle of Seven Pines--"Fair Oaks"--Captain Carter's battery
rendered such efficient service that the commanding general declared
he would rather have commanded that battery that day than to have been
President of the Confederate States. But the fame of the battery was
won at the expense of about sixty per cent of its officers and men
killed and wounded. The Carter plantation was within sound of the
guns, and Mrs. Carter immediately constituted herself the nurse of the
wounded men of her husband's battery. And from this time she was
regarded by them as their guardian angel--an affection that was
extended to her by all of the men of her husband's command, as he rose
from rank to rank, until he became a colonel and acting chief of
artillery in the last Valley campaign.
When the war closed nothing remained except the lands and a few
buildings, but the energy of the master and mistress began from the
first to build up the plantation again. The servants were free; the
working force was broken up and scattered, yet large numbers of them,
including all who were old and infirm, remained on the place and had
to be cared for and fed. To this master and mistress alike applied all
their abilities, with the result that defeat was turned into success
and the place became known as one of the estates that had survived the
destruction of war.
Having a family of young children, the best tutors were secured, and
owing largely to the knowledge of the good influence to which the boys
would be subjected under Mrs. Carter's roof, many applied to send
their boys to them, and "Pampatike School" soon became known far
beyond the limits of Virginia. Among those who have testified to the
influence upon them of their life at Pampatike are men now nearing the
top of every profession in many States.
It was at this period that the writer came to know her.
And he can
never forget the impression made on him by her--an impression that
time and fuller knowledge of her only served to deepen.
Of commanding
and gracious presence, with a face of rare beauty and loveliness, and
manners, whose charm can never be described, she might have been noble
Brunhilda, softened and made sweet by the chastening influence of
Christianity and unselfish love. No one that ever saw her could forget
her. It was, indeed, the beautifying influences of a simple piety and
devoted love that guided her life, which stamped their impress on that
noble face. In every relation of life she was perfect.
And the
influence of such a life can never cease. Many besides her children
rise up and call her blessed.
In closing this incomplete sketch of one whose life illustrated all
that was best in life, and admits of justice in no sketch whatsoever,
the writer feels that he cannot do better than to use the words of him
who knew and loved her best:
Every day an anthem of love and praise swells up from all over the
land to do her honor. Old boys of Pampatike schooling, new boys of
the University, girls and old people, recall her delight to make
them happy and to give them pleasure. It was her greatest
happiness to make others happy; for she was absolutely the most
unselfish and generous being on earth. Her generosity was not
always of abundance, for abundance was not always hers; but a
generosity out of everything that she had.
Her beautiful life has passed away, and is now only a memory, but
a memory fraught and fragrant with all that is sweetest and
loveliest and purest and best in noblest womanhood.
Who that ever
saw her can forget her noble and beautiful face, resplendent with
all that was exalted and high-souled, gracious, and kindest to
others--the Master's index to the heart within!
J. L. M. CURRY'S WOMEN CONSTITUENTS
[J. L. Underwood.]
Hon. J. L. M. Curry had ever since the war with Mexico been the idol of
his district in Alabama, which kept him steadily in the United States
Congress and sent him to the Confederate House of Representatives.
Toward the latter part of the war in the Congressional campaign Mr.
Curry found an opponent in Mayor Cruickshank, of Talladega. The
latter skilfully played upon the hardships and hopelessness of the war
and in some of the upper mountain counties considerable opposition to
Mr. Curry was developed. At a gathering of the mountaineers, largely
composed of women, Mr. Curry was appealing with his usual favor to his
people to continue their efforts to secure the independence of the
Confederacy and not to listen to any suggestion of submission to the
Northern States. About the time his eloquence reached its highest
point, up rose an old woman and hurled at him what struck him like a
thunderbolt:
"I think it time for you to hush all your war talk. You go yonder to
Richmond and sit up there in Congress and have a good time while our
poor boys are being all killed; and if you are going to do anything
it's time for you to stop this war."
In a moment up sprang another mountain woman. "Go on, Mr. Curry," said
she. "Go on, you are right. We can never consent to give up our
Southern cause. Don't listen to what this other woman says. I have
sent five sons to the army. Three of them have fallen on the
battlefield. The other two are at their post in the Virginia army and
they will all stand by Lee to the last. This woman here hasn't but two
sons and they had to be conscripted. One of them has deserted and it
takes all of Lewis's Cavalry to keep the other one in ranks. Go on,
Mr. Curry. We are with you." And Curry went on, more edified by this
last woman's speech, said he afterward, than any speech he ever heard
in his life.
NORA MCCARTHY
[In The Gray Jacket, pages 26-29.]
Norah McCarthy won by her courage the name of the
"Jennie Deans" of
the West. She lived in the interior of Missouri--a little, pretty,
black-eyed girl, with a soul as huge as a mountain, and a form as
frail as a fairy's, and the courage and pluck of a buccaneer into the
bargain. Her father was an old man--a secessionist. She had but a
single brother, just growing from boyhood to youthhood, but sickly and
lame. The family had lived in Kansas during the troubles of '57, when
Norah was a mere girl of fourteen or thereabouts. But even then her
beauty, wit and devil-may-care spirit were known far and wide; and
many were the stories told along the border of her sayings and doings.
Among other charges laid at her door it is said that she broke all the
hearts of the young bloods far and wide, and tradition goes even so
far as to assert that, like Bob Acres, she killed a man once a week,
keeping a private church-yard for the purpose of decently burying her
dead. Be this as it may, she was then, and is now, a dashing,
fine-looking, lively girl, and a prettier heroine than will be found
in a novel, as will be seen if the good-natured reader has a mind to
follow us to the close of this sketch.
Not long after the Federals came into her neighborhood, and after they
had forced her father to take the oath, which he did partly because he
was a very old man, unable to take the field, and hoped thereby to
save the security of his household, and partly because he could not
help himself; not long after these two important events in the history
of our heroine, a body of men marched up one evening, while she was on
a visit to a neighbor's, and arrested her sickly, weak brother,
bearing him off to Leavenworth City, where he was lodged in the
military guard-house.
It was nearly night before Norah reached home. When she did so, and
discovered the outrage which had been perpetrated, and the grief of
her old father, her rage knew no bounds. Although the mists were
falling and the night was closing in, dark and dreary, she ordered
her horse to be resaddled, put on a thick surtout, belted a sash round
her waist, and sticking a pair of ivory-handled pistols in her bosom,
started off after the soldiers. The post was many miles distant. But
that she did not regard. Over hill, through marsh, under cover of the
darkness, she galloped on to the headquarters of the enemy. At last
the call of a sentry brought her to stand, with a hoarse
"Who goes
there?"
"No matter," she replied. "I wish to see Colonel Prince, your
commanding officer, and instantly, too."
Somewhat awed by the presence of a young female on horseback at that
late hour, and perhaps struck by her imperious tone of command, the
Yankee guard, without hesitation, conducted her to the fortifications,
and thence to the quarters of the colonel commanding, with whom she
was left alone.
"Well, madam," said the Federal officer, with bland politeness, "to
what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
"Is this Colonel Prince?" replied the brave girl, quietly.
"It is, and you are--"
"No matter. I have come here to inquire whether you have a lad by the
name of McCarthy a prisoner?"
"There is such a prisoner."
"May I ask why he is a prisoner?"
"Certainly! For being suspected of treasonable connection with the
enemy."
"Treasonable connection with the enemy! Why the boy is sick and lame.
He is, besides, my brother; and I have come to ask his immediate
release."
The officer opened his eyes; was sorry he could not comply with the
request of so winning a supplicant; and must "really beg her to desist
and leave the fortress."
"I demand his release," cried she, in reply.
"That you cannot have. The boy is a rebel and a traitor, and unless
you retire, madam, I shall be forced to arrest you on a similar
suspicion."
"Suspicion! I am a rebel and a traitor, too, if you wish; young
McCarthy is my brother, and I don't leave this tent until he goes with
me. Order his instant release or,"--here she drew one of the aforesaid
ivory handles out of her bosom and levelled the muzzle of it directly
at him--"I will put an ounce of lead in your brain before you can call
a single sentry to your relief."
A picture that!
There stood the heroic girl; eyes flashing fire, cheek glowing with
earnest will, lips firmly set with resolution, and hand outstretched
with a loaded pistol ready to send the contents through the now
thoroughly frightened, startled, aghast soldier, who cowered, like
blank paper before flames, under her burning stare.
"Quick!" she repeated, "order his release, or you die."
It was too much. Prince could not stand it. He bade her lower her
infernal weapon, for God's sake, and the boy should be forthwith
liberated.
"Give the order first," she replied, unmoved.
And the order was given; the lad was brought out; and drawing his arm
in hers, the gallant sister marched out of the place, with one hand
grasping one of his, and the other holding her trusty ivory handle.
She mounted her horse, bade him get up behind, and rode off, reaching
home without accident before midnight.
Now that is a fact stranger than fiction, which shows what sort of
metal is in our women of the much abused and traduced nineteenth
century.
WOMEN IN THE BATTLE OF GAINESVILLE, FLA.
[From Dickinson and His Men, pages 99-100.]
As Captain Dickinson and our brave defenders charged the enemy through
the streets, many of the ladies could be seen, whose inspiring tones
and grateful plaudits cheered these noble heroes on to deeds of
greater daring. While charging the enemy, near the residence of Judge
Dawkins, Mrs. Dawkins and her lovely sister, Miss Lydia Taylor, passed
from their garden into the street, and in the excitement of the
moment, actuated by the heroic spirit that ever animated our noble
women, united their voices in repeating the captain's word of command.
"Charge, charge!" was heard with the musical rhythm of a benediction
from their grateful hearts.
The enemy, halting, made a stand a few yards below the entrance to
their residence, firing up the street almost a hailstorm of Minie
balls from their Spencer rifles. Apparently indifferent to their
danger, these heroic ladies stood unmoved, cheering on our gallant
soldiers, among whom were many near and dear to them.
Captain
Dickinson earnestly entreated them to return to the house, as they
were in imminent danger of being killed.
Many ladies brought buckets of water for the heated, famished soldiers
who had no time to give even to this needed refreshment.
Through all
the desperate fight not a citizen was hurt. The sweet incense of
prayer arose from hundreds of agonized hearts to the mercy-seat, in
behalf of husbands, sons, fathers, and brothers who were in the
battle.
"SHE WOULD SEND TEN MORE"
[Judge John H. Reagan's address in 1897.]
To illustrate the character and devotion of the women of the
Confederacy, I will repeat a statement made to me during the war by
Governor Letcher, of Virginia. He had visited his home in the
Shenandoah Valley, and on his return to the State capitol called at
the house of an old friend who had a large family. He found no one but
the good old mother at home, and inquired about the balance of the
family. She told him that her husband, her husband's father and her
ten sons were all in the army. And on his suggestion that she must
feel lonesome, having had a large family with her and now to be left
alone, her answer was that it was very hard, but if she had ten more
sons they should all go to the army. Can ancient or modern history
show a nobler or more unselfish and patriotic devotion to any cause?
WOMEN AT VICKSBURG
[J. L. Underwood.]
On first thought it would be expected that women would be greatly