# Recollections of a Virginian in the Mexican, Indian, and Civil Wars/16

At the end of six weeks I was ordered to take command of the Department of the Gulf, with headquarters at Mobile, altogether an interesting and agreeable command. No kinder or more generous people ever lived than these. Some time after our arrival, Judge Dargan came to me and, introducing himself, placed his furnished house at our disposal. It was elegant and comfortable, with ample lawn and garden, and here we lived until the end of the war. The judge occupied one room in the wing, and came every evening into our sitting room to converse with us, and became a warm and lifelong friend of me and of mine. His own family had moved up to Tuskeegee for the war.
Soon after assuming command of the Department of the Gulf, I was notified that a steamer under a flag of truce would arrive in Mobile Bay with the sick and wounded soldiers from Vicksburg. This was one of the many considerate and kindly acts of General Grant, who never made war upon women or other unfortunates who might fall under his power. Of this, and of all other qualities of a soldier's character, he has left his record in the grateful memories of the Southern people. We cordially welcomed our weary and wounded comrades, and went down in steamers to meet them and escort hem to that charming bay shore resort at Point Clear, where the hotel and cottages awaited their reception, and no soldiers of the Confederacy ever enjoyed a happier destiny than these in exchanging the damp and soggy climate of Vicksburg for the fresh salt breezes and sparkling waters of Mobile Bay, with its fishing and bathing and famous oysters, and now and then a boat load of limes and bananas and other tropical luxuries brought in by the blockade runners.
As I went from cot to cot in my visits through the wards of out temporary hospitals, I noticed a poor, emaciated lad of not more than sixteen years, who seemed very near death's door. I inquired of him as to his name and home, and he replied, "My name is Waymack, and I am from Hanover County, Virginia." He had been a member of a Virginia artillery company, and I did my best to make him feel that he was once more in the house of his friends. Under good care and the healthful climate, he rallied, and as soon as his company was fit for duty I made it the headquarters guard of my department. I found great comfort in my Virginia guard, and a sense of mutual good feeling existed between them and the members of my household, which was not a little enhanced by my wife's invariable remembrance of them at dinner time. A year or so before the final engagements which terminated the siege of Mobile, two battalions of "Galvanized Yankees" were sent to me, to form part of my army. They had been captured in some recent battle, and being all Irishmen declared that they would rather fight for us than for the North, and were accordingly sworn in to serve till the end of the war, and duly enrolled and equipped. I sent them up to meet a raid into Mississippi, but no sooner did the rascals come in sight of the blue uniforms than they raised the white flag, and, going over in body, surrendered at discretion.
One day, some months after this, Waymack came to my office and stated that he had something very important to tell me. He was much excited and alarmed lest his interview with me be known. I satisfied his fears, and he informed me that in the same fort in which his battery was stationed, Fort Jeb Stuart, in a company of the First Louisiana Artillery, there were two "Galvanized Yankees," who were preparing to desert to the enemy, and to take with them drawings and plans of the defenses of Mobile. They were Germans, he said, and a very powerful men, and one of them had made sergeant. A man residing in Mobile was their accomplice.
I assured the boy of his absolute safety, commended his zeal and courage, and enjoined on him increased vigilance as to the conduct, etc., of the spies. I then sent for General Cockrell, commanding the famous Missouri brigade, now a staunch and able member in the United States Senate, and asked him to select from among his men a good and efficient detective from St. Louis, and detach him to report to me for special service, cautioning him and Colonel Fuller, of the First Louisiana Artillery, to make no comment on the irregularity of the order. I transferred the Missouri sergeant to the Louisiana company, where he soon won the confidence of the intending deserters, and, together with a trustworthy comrade of his own, entered into their plans. I was especially anxious to get hold of the citizen of Mobile who was their confederate in the proposed treachery, and the detective fully shared this desire, and delayed the time of their desertion until he found the spies impatient to be off, and, he thought, somewhat suspicious of him.
They got all the plans of Mobile and its defenses, etc., completed, and set out at midnight through the pines toward Pascagoula, near which the Federal army lay. The Confederate sergeant and his comrade bore them company for some miles from Mobile, when each man closed with his antagonist. Next day my two emissaries returned, bringing me the papers they had taken from the deserters. They would have been of inestimable value to the enemy in his attack upon the place. The Confederate sergeant told me that in all of his experience as a detective, he had never had to deal with so clever and dangerous a man as that German sergeant was. In the chances and changes of the years since then, I have lost sight of little Waymack, although I have tried to learn something of his whereabouts, but I hope he is alive and prosperous; for he was as game and true as I ever knew.
Until Farragut's fleet entered Mobile Bay, the blockade runners were very active carrying out cotton and bringing in stores from Havana, and thus we were still in touch with the outer world, and Mobile was to our western armies what Richmond was to the army of Virginia. Spies, too, were active there, spies for us and spies for General Banks, sometimes for both at once. Many applications were made to me to permit the government cotton at Mobile to be traded with the Federal government for army supplies, but as I required the supplies to be delivered first, nothing was ever accomplished except that I was ordered by our government to send one thousand bales of cotton to New York to be used to buy overcoats and blankets for our prisoners. An agreement was entered into between the two governments, and General Beal, a prisoner of war, was released and stationed in New York to receive and sell the cotton, which was done with the fidelity of that most excellent officer and gentleman.
One day, in 1865, a man came to me with papers approved by Lincoln, Stanton, and Farragut, authorizing him to exchange army supplies for cotton. He was a pleasant looking man, whom I will call S---. He said he was from North Carolina, and an ardent Southern sympathizer, a class which I have always felt would bear watching. I told him that many such propositions had reached me, but that no trade could be made, because his government wished to have the cotton before delivering the stores, and I must have the stores before delivering the cotton. He thought he could arrange to give me the stores first, and receive the cotton at Mobile in payment, so I told him to go ahead and see what he could do. The provost marshal furnished him with passes to go and come between the Federal commander General Gordon Granger and myself, and at the same time had him closely watched, and he went back and forth many times, but made no progress in our trade.
Many weeks passed in these fruitless efforts, and meantime the enemy was making his grand and final preparations for the reduction of Mobile, and I, by my complete system of scouts, was daily posted as to his force and movements. One Sunday there was a ring at my door, and the servant announced that Mr. S--- wished to see me on urgent business. My wife, who was sitting with me, left the room, and he was ushered in, somewhat flustered by the import of his tidings. "I am just from General Granger at Pascagoula," he said, "and Canby's army is actually marching against you." All of which I already knew. After I had heard him through, and had got all he could or would tell, he drew from his breast pocket a package of assorted kid gloves and handed them to me, "as a present for your lady." I kindly declined them for her, saying she was already sufficiently supplied with gloves. He seemed a little mortified that I did so, and retired at once. My wife came in to hear the news of the enemy, and I said to her, "Mr. S--- was very kind, for he brought you a dozen of Jouvin's kids." Beaming with delight,she said,"Oh, where are they?"
"I declined them, telling him you were sufficiently supplied."
"How could you tell such a story, when you know that I have not had a kid glove for a year!"
"But," I urged, "remember that I may have to hang him tomorrow, and it would never do for you to be wearing those gloves then."
Sure enough, the next day a worthy young officer attached to my headquarters, Major Sam Duncan, of Natchez, gave me a letter brought to him by S--- from Duncan's father in New York, telling him the days of the Confederacy were numbered, that he must get out of it at once, and that a man-of-war's boat would receive him near Dog River and take him abroad of a vessel bound for New York, etc. Accordingly, S--- was closely watched, and that evening, fifteen minutes before the train left for Meridian, he was arrested and taken up to the prison there, to be dealt with when a court should have time to try him. A few weeks after, the surrender came, and he, with all other prisoners, was liberated, and so it happened I never hanged a man.
I never saw S--- until six or eight months after the war. I was on my way from the depot to the Battle House, in Mobile, when I saw a man approaching me, whom, as he drew near, I recognized as S---. He came straight for me, and I knew he was after me. There was nobody in sight, and I was convinced that a sever beating was the least I could expect; for he was a very able bodied fellow and had me in his power, I being entirely unarmed. What was my relief, as S--- drew near, to observe a kindly smile stealing over his face, as he extended his hand to seize mine, saying, "General Maury, I have come for the honor of shaking you by the hand, and telling you that, by G---d, sir, you are the only honest man that I met during the war from Abe Lincoln down! " I never shook a man's hand with more sincere pleasure in all my life, and as soon as I could I wrote my wife how those gloves had saved me. Some weeks ago I went into the office of the Secretary of the navy, when a man sprang up from the sofa and claimed acquaintance, saying, "I am S---, whom you tried to hang in Mobile." I informed him I felt glad I did not do it. On further talk he told me he was so anxious to shake hands at our last meeting because he was afraid of me.
During my command of that department, General Bragg invited me to accept a fine command in his army, which I declined, preferring to be directly under the control of the War Department, as I then was. Afterwards, Hood applied to the President to have me appointed lieutenant general, and ordered to a corps of his army, but the President replied I could not then be taken from Mobile, but he would promote me to the rank of lieutenant general. He told General Taylor this, and in Mrs. Davis' book she states that such was his purpose.
During all the period of my service at Mobile, my kinsman, Colonel Henry Maury, was with me, and no man in the community had more friends, perhaps, than he. His handsome face, cordial manner, and ready wit attracted toward him every one with whom he came in contact. His courage was unquestioned, while his loyalty to his friends, and his kindness of heart, won him lasting esteem. He had gone from Fredericksburg to Mobile while yet a youth, and made his home there. He entered the Navy as a boy, and was present at the siege of Vera Cruz. Afterward, he entered the merchant service, and by the time he was twenty years old had command of a barque. General Walker, the filibuster, employed him to take a battalion of recruits down to Nicaragua. Mr. Marcy, the Secretary of State, sent a marshal in a revenue cutter to detain him in Mobile Bay. Harry received the marshal courteously, and acquiesced in his own detention. He took him into his cabin, and entertained him with lavish hospitality, when he persuaded his guest to sleep aboard the barque, urging that he could not possibly escape with his ship, for the cutter was lying close by and he would show a lantern from the barque's peak all night, all of which the marshal understood, and retired to sleep.
After some hours, all being quiet aboard both vessels, Henry shifted the lantern from the peak to the end of a long spar which he let down into the mud of the bottom. The wind favored him, he slipped his cable, dropped down the bay, and by daylight was out of sight of land, and well on his way towards his destination. It was not until the second day that he met a vessel bound for the States, to which he courteously transferred his guest, with an apologetic letter to the Secretary of State for having been compelled to take such a liberty. He was short handed, his filibusters could aid his crew but little in the stormy weather they encountered, and the Susan was wrecked off the island of Ruatan. None were lost, and the British governor treated them with so much kindness that his government recalled him.
After the close of the troubles in Nicaragua, a Captain Henri de Riviere, who had been dismissed from the French army and had cast his lot with General Walker's expedition, returned with the surviving adventurers to Mobile, and became a favorite in the gay society there. His impudent deportment aroused Henry's indignation, and a duel resulted. A steamer took the duelists down to Pascagoula. Doctors Knott and Ross went along as surgeons, and a many gentlemen of Mobile, who desired "to see Harry shoot the Frenchman."
I was told by several eye-witnesses the remarkable history of this curious affair. The ground was near the residence of the proprietor, and a hammock was swinging on the veranda. Captain de Riviere advanced to Captain Henry Maury and asked him if he might take and hour's nap in that hammock, as he felt very nervous. His request was granted, and his second aroused him at the end of the hour. He arose apparently quite refreshed, and took his place for the duel. They were to begin firing revolvers at twelve paces, to advance a pace after each shot, and stop if either fell. At the first shot, the Frenchman staggered backwards and seemed about to fall. His antagonist lowered his pistol, but kept his thumb upon the hammer and his eye upon the enemy, whom he detected in the act of cocking his pistol, but before he could raise it and fire, Maury shot him in the mouth. He was taken to the home of a gentleman in Mobile, whose sympathetic wife and beautiful daughter cared for him during some weeks.
When he had recovered sufficiently to travel, he departed, accompanied by his devoted nurses. The head of the family went in pursuit of them, reaching Havana just after they had left for Nassau, and arriving at Nassau after they sailed for New York. In New York their escapade was arrested by a lady who came out of the convent and claimed Captain Henri de Riviere as her lawfully wedded spouse. Then at last the bereft husband and father recovered his delinquent family, and returned to Mobile. Towards the close of the war between the States, the Marquis de Riviere died in France, leaving his great fortune to his brother, Captain de Riviere. The head of the enamored family still living in Mobile assented to the urgent request of the new marquis that he would escort his wife and daughter to Paris, where the latter became the Marquise de Riviere. They lived in great splendor till the Franco-Prussian War, when the marquis was killed in battle.
During the war between the States, Colonel Henry Maury commanded the lower defenses in Mobile Bay. One day he went up to Mobile in the steamer which plied between Fort Morgan and the city. He reached the evening boat too late, but persuaded a boatman to take him down the bay in his skiff. The wind was blowing half a gale and rising, and the little craft bounded over the heavy seas, sometimes half hidden from the view of the anxious watchers on the wharves of the city. The approach to Fort Morgan was more anxiously watched by the garrison, all of whom came out upon the wharf. They feared their colonel was in that boat, knowing well his daring nature. When the dingy reached the landing place it was impossible to land, so violent was the rush of the water seaward. The colonel sprang into the raging sea, and, swimming to land, called for volunteers to man the launch and go with him to the rescue of the boatman, who was rapidly borne out to the Gulf, where he would inevitably perish. The launch, steered by his own steady hand, soon overhauled and rescued the poor fellow. This was only one of the many noble feats of daring which marked his whole life.
General Gordon Granger was stationed with his corps at Pascagoula a month or two previous to the attack on Mobile. Thence he detached a brigade to a narrow but deep creek about half way to Mobile, and I ordered Colonel Maury with three regiments of horse to go down and force the brigade back into Pascagoula. Soon after he marched, a courier came in hot haste, bearing a dispatch from Colonel Maury, reporting his progress. I think that when he sent it he was about three miles from town. I thought it very unaccountable until several other equally unimportant bulletins arrived, when I said, "Henry is drunk, and nothing will come of his expedition"; and so it was. Next day he came back, having done nothing, and I was not surprised when charges of drunkenness were preferred against him by officers of his command. I ordered him under arrest, and to be tried by the military court of the department. To my surprise, he was acquitted, and I asked the president colonel judge how it happened. He said, "Three officers of high intelligence and character swore that he was drunk, and we all thought that he was done for and deeply deplored it, for we all love him; but bless your soul, sir, Harry produced six officers of equal character, who swore, point blank, that he was sober, and we had to acquit him!"
When I sent Colonel Henry Maury into Jones County to break up that secession movement, he dealt with the traitors very roughly, so that after the war he was pursued very actively by the survivors, and his fine horses were seized. The aid of the United States troops was invoked, and would have been employed, but that I went to see General Canby about it, and he at once peremptorily forbade it. Meantime, the colonel went to Selma and secured the protection of the Federal commander there, a kindly old Scotchman, who, like many other good and sensible people, was charmed by Henry's wit and bonhomie. He invited the colonel to a sumptuous lunch, at which there was a big Federal major, who seemed inclined to quarrel with Henry, who never needed two invitations to a fight. Toasts and songs went round, and the major made several flings at the colonel, who treasured them up, until presently Colonel Maury was called upon for a song. He said if the company would accept the change, he would offer a conundrum instead of a song. The proposition was vociferously applauded, the big major being among the most enthusiastic. "Why are the Confederates like Lazarus? " asked Maury. The major gave a contemptuous solution. "No," said the colonel, reaching across the table to indicate and emphasize his reply; "because we have been licked by dogs!" The Scotch general loudly applauded, swearing "he had not read so good a conundrum in the newspapers for a year."
The genial and witty Bishop Wilmer, of Alabama, was a warm friend and admirer of Harry, and greatly enjoyed his conundrum; and when, after the war, he went to New York to invoke assistance for the churches so desolated in our Southern country, he was induced to relate this incident. A clergyman present, who was not pervaded by that Christian spirit which all bishops and the clergy especially should illustrate, said with much heat, "Well, sir, if that is your feeling, why do you come to us now for aid?" "Oh," said the bishop, "to get a hair of the dog!"
The bishop himself sometimes left a lesson by a witty repartee, as he did once when the train in which he was traveling rolled down an embankment. As he picked himself up a rough fellow near him, who had been annoying the passengers by his coarse and profane talk, said to this old Virginia gentleman, "Well, Bishop, we all like to went to hell together that time!" "Speak for yourself, my friend," was the ready response. "My ticket is for the other place." May God send him long life and strong health, that he may continue to teach all other bishops how potent is the influence of gentleness and unfailing good temper in them above all other men. Ever a father to his people in the cruel war we endured together, we respect and love him and trust him now.
While colonel of the Thirty second Alabama, then a part of Jackson's army, and stationed at Jackson, Colonel Henry Maury was wounded in the right breast by a rifle ball. He was relating an anecdote to a group of appreciative brother officers when this happened, and cooly finished his story before turning to one of them, to whom he said, "Please put your ear to my chest and see if you hear any noise in there." "No." "Then, boys, I'm good for ninety days' furlough." Several years after the war, he died from the effects of that very wound.
I was living in New Orleans at the time his death occurred, and the circumstances which attended it and my own connection with it were very curious. I may state at the outset that I am not at all a superstitious person, and that I have no theory to advance or explanation to offer with regard to the following facts.
Henry was then residing at Mobile, and when I had last heard from him he had been in his accustomed health and spirits.
One morning, in the spring of 1868, I awoke and started up, saying, "Where is Henry?"
My wife, aroused by my voice, replied, "You are dreaming!"
"No," I said emphatically; "I am not dreaming. I saw Henry standing by my side, and he was about to speak to me, when he suddenly disappeared."
She argued with me, as was natural, that it was all a dream, but I could not shake off my conviction of its reality.
As I stepped into the car to go down to my office after breakfast, a gentleman who was reading a paper looked up and greeted me cordially, saying, "General, I am glad to see you, for I just thought I had read of your sudden death," --- handing me the paper in which was a telegram stating that "General H. Maury had died in Mobile early that morning."
Henry had been promoted to the rank of brigadier general just at the close of the war. Our personal relations were very warm and affectionate, and I was his nearest of kin in that part of the world.