CLOSING OPERATIONS OF THE WAR SURRENDER.

On the 26th of March Canby invested Spanish Fort, and began the siege by regular approaches, a part of his army investing Blakeley on the same day.  General R.L.  Gibson, now a member of Congress from Louisiana, held Spanish Fort with twenty-five hundred men.  Fighting all day and working all night, Gibson successfully resisted the efforts of the immense force against him until the evening of April 8, when the enemy effected a lodgment threatening his only route of evacuation.  Under instructions from Maury, he withdrew his garrison in the night to Mobile, excepting his pickets, necessarily left.  Gibson’s stubborn defense and skillful retreat make this one of the best achievements of the war.  Although invested on the 26th of March, the siege of Blakeley was not pressed until April 1, when Steele’s corps of Canby’s army joined the original force before it.  Here, with a garrison of twenty-eight hundred men, commanded General Liddell, with General Cockrell, now a Senator from Missouri, as his second.  Every assault of the enemy, who made but little progress, was gallantly repulsed until the afternoon of the 9th, when, learning by the evacuation of Spanish Fort how small a force had delayed him, he concentrated on Blakeley and carried it, capturing the garrison.  Maury intended to withdraw Liddell during the night of the 9th.  It would have been more prudent to have done so on the night of the 8th, as the enemy would naturally make an energetic effort after the fall of Spanish Fort; but he was unwilling to yield any ground until the last moment, and felt confident of holding the place another day.  After dismantling his works, Maury marched out of Mobile on the 12th of April, with forty-five hundred men, including three field batteries, and was directed to Cuba Station, near Meridian.  In the interest of the thirty thousand non-combatants of the town, he properly notified the enemy that the place was open.  During the movement from Mobile toward Meridian occurred the last engagement of the civil war, in a cavalry affair between the Federal advance and our rear guard under Colonel Spence.  Commodore Farrand took his armed vessels and all the steamers in the harbor up the Tombigby River, above its junction with the Alabama, and planted torpedoes in the stream below.  Forrest and Maury had about eight thousand men, but tried and true.  Cattle were shod, wagons overhauled, and every preparation for rapid movement made.

From the North, by wire and courier, I received early intelligence of passing events.  Indeed, these were of a character for the enemy to disseminate rather than suppress.  Before Maury left Mobile I had learned of Lee’s surrender, rumors of which spreading among the troops, a number from the neighboring camps came to see me.  I confirmed the rumor, and told them the astounding news, just received, of President Lincoln’s assassination.  For a time they were silent with amazement, then asked if it was possible that any Southern man had committed the act.  There was a sense of relief expressed when they learned that the wretched assassin had no connection with the South, but was an actor, whose brains were addled by tragedies and Plutarch’s fables.

It was but right to tell these gallant, faithful men the whole truth concerning our situation.  The surrender of Lee left us little hope of success; but while Johnston remained in arms we must be prepared to fight our way to him.  Again, the President and civil authorities of our Government were on their way to the south, and might need our protection.  Granting the cause for which we had fought to be lost, we owed it to our own manhood, to the memory of the dead, and to the honor of our arms, to remain steadfast to the last.  This was received, not with noisy cheers, but solemn murmurs of approval, showing that it was understood and adopted.  Forrest and Maury shared my opinions and objects, and impressed them on their men.  Complete order was maintained throughout, and public property protected, though it was known later that this would be turned over to the Federal authorities.  A considerable amount of gold was near our camps, and safely guarded; yet it is doubtful if our united means would have sufficed to purchase a breakfast.

Members of the Confederate Congress from the adjoining and more western States came to us.  These gentlemen had left Richmond very hurriedly, in the first days of April, and were sorely jaded by fatigue and anxiety, as the presence of Wilson’s troops in Georgia had driven them to by-paths to escape capture.  Arrived at a well-ordered camp, occupied by a formidable-looking force, they felt as storm-tossed mariners in a harbor of refuge, and, ignorant of recent events, as well as uncertain of the future, were eager for news and counsel.  The struggle was virtually over, and the next few days, perhaps hours, would decide my course.  In my judgment it would speedily become their duty to go to their respective homes.  They had been the leaders of the people, had sought and accepted high office at their hands, and it was for them to teach the masses, by example and precept, how best to meet impending troubles.  Possibly they might suffer annoyance and persecution from Federal power, but manhood and duty required them to incur the risk.  To the credit of these gentlemen it should be recorded that they followed this advice when the time for action came.  There was one exception which deserves mention.

Ex-Governor Harris, now a United States Senator from Tennessee, occupied the executive chair of his State in 1862, and withdrew from Nashville when the army of General Sidney Johnston retreated to the Tennessee River in the spring of that year.  By the death of President Lincoln, Andrew Johnson had succeeded to power, and he was from Tennessee, and the personal enemy of Governor Harris.  The relations of their State with the Federal Union had been restored, and Harris’s return would be productive of discord rather than peace.  I urged him to leave the country for a time, and offered to aid him in crossing the Mississippi River; but he was very unwilling to go, and only consented after a matter was arranged, which I anticipate the current of events to relate.  He had brought away from Nashville the coin of the Bank of Tennessee, which, as above mentioned, was now in our camp.  An official of the bank had always been in immediate charge of this coin, but Harris felt that honor was involved in its safe return.  At my request, General Canby detailed an officer and escort to take the coin to Nashville, where it arrived intact; but the unhappy official accompanying it was incarcerated for his fidelity.  Had he betrayed his trust, he might have received rewards instead of stripes.  ’Tis dangerous to be out of harmony with the practices of one’s time.

Intelligence of the Johnston-Sherman convention reached us, and Canby and I were requested by the officers making it to conform to its terms until the civil authorities acted.  A meeting was arranged to take place a few miles north of Mobile, where the appearance of the two parties contrasted the fortunes of our respective causes.  Canby, who preceded me at the appointed spot, a house near the railway, was escorted by a brigade with a military band, and accompanied by many officers in “full fig.”  With one officer, Colonel William Levy, since a member of Congress from Louisiana, I made my appearance on a hand-car, the motive power of which was two negroes.  Descendants of the ancient race of Abraham, dealers in cast-off raiment, would have scorned to bargain for our rusty suits of Confederate gray.  General Canby met me with much urbanity.  We retired to a room, and in a few moments agreed upon a truce, terminable after forty-eight hours’ notice by either party.  Then, rejoining the throng of officers, introductions and many pleasant civilities passed.  I was happy to recognize Commodore (afterward Admiral) James Palmer, an old friend.  He was second to Admiral Thatcher, commanding United States squadron in Mobile Bay, and had come to meet me.  A bountiful luncheon was spread, of which we partook, with joyous poppings of champagne corks for accompaniment, the first agreeable explosive sounds I had heard for years.  The air of “Hail Columbia,” which the band in attendance struck up, was instantly changed by Canby’s order to that of “Dixie”; but I insisted on the first, and expressed a hope that Columbia would be again a happy land, a sentiment honored by many libations.

There was, as ever, a skeleton at the feast, in the person of a general officer who had recently left Germany to become a citizen and soldier of the United States.  This person, with the strong accent and idioms of the Fatherland, comforted me by assurances that we of the South would speedily recognize our ignorance and errors, especially about slavery and the rights of States, and rejoice in the results of the war.  In vain Canby and Palmer tried to suppress him.  On a celebrated occasion an Emperor of Germany proclaimed himself above grammar, and this earnest philosopher was not to be restrained by canons of taste.  I apologized meekly for my ignorance, on the ground that my ancestors had come from England to Virginia in 1608, and, in the short intervening period of two hundred and fifty-odd years, had found no time to transmit to me correct ideas of the duties of American citizenship.  Moreover, my grandfather, commanding the 9th Virginia regiment in our Revolutionary army, had assisted in the defeat and capture of the Hessian mercenaries at Trenton, and I lamented that he had not, by association with these worthies, enlightened his understanding.  My friend smiled blandly, and assured me of his willingness to instruct me.  Happily for the world, since the days of Huss and Luther, neither tyranny nor taste can repress the Teutonic intellect in search of truth or exposure of error.  A kindly, worthy people, the Germans, but wearing on occasions.

The party separated, Canby for Mobile, I for Meridian, where within two days came news of Johnston’s surrender in North Carolina, the capture of President Davis in Georgia, and notice from Canby that the truce must terminate, as his Government disavowed the Johnston-Sherman convention.  I informed General Canby that I desired to meet him for the purpose of negotiating a surrender of my forces, and that Commodore Farrand would accompany me to meet Admiral Thatcher.  The military and civil authorities of the Confederacy had fallen, and I was called to administer on the ruins as residuary legatee.  It seemed absurd for the few there present to continue the struggle against a million of men.  We could only secure honorable interment for the remains of our cause a cause that for four years had fixed the attention of the world, been baptized in the blood of thousands, and whose loss would be mourned in bitter tears by countless widows and orphans throughout their lives.  At the time, no doubts as to the propriety of my course entered my mind, but such have since crept in.  Many Southern warriors, from the hustings and in print, have declared that they were anxious to die in the last ditch, and by implication were restrained from so doing by the readiness of their generals to surrender.  One is not permitted to question the sincerity of these declarations, which have received the approval of public opinion by the elevation of the heroes uttering them to such offices as the people of the South have to bestow; and popular opinion in our land is a court from whose decisions there is no appeal on this side of the grave.

On the 8th of May, 1865, at Citronelle, forty miles north of Mobile, I delivered the epilogue of the great drama in which I had played a humble part.  The terms of surrender demanded and granted were consistent with the honor of our arms; and it is due to the memory of General Canby to add that he was ready with suggestions to soothe our military pride.  Officers retained their side arms, mounted men their horses, which in our service were private property; and public stores, ordnance, commissary, and quartermaster, were to be turned over to officers of the proper departments and receipted for.  Paroles of the men were to be signed by their officers on rolls made out for the purpose, and I was to retain control of railways and river steamers to transport the troops as nearly as possible to their homes and feed them on the road, in order to spare the destitute people of the country the burden of their maintenance.  Railways and steamers, though used by the Confederate authorities, were private property, and had been taken by force which the owners could not resist; and it was agreed that they should not be seized by civil jackals following the army without special orders from Washington.  Finally, I was to notify Canby when to send his officers to my camp to receive paroles and stores.

Near the Tombigby River, to the east of Meridian, were many thousands of bales of cotton, belonging to the Confederate Government and in charge of a treasury agent.  It seemed to me a duty to protect public property and transfer it to the United States, successors by victory to the extinct Confederacy.  Accordingly, a guard had been placed over this cotton, though I hated the very name of the article, as the source of much corruption to our people.  Canby remarked that cotton had been a curse to his side as well, and he would send to New Orleans for a United States Treasury agent, so that we might rid ourselves of this at the earliest moment.  The conditions of surrender written out and signed, we had some conversation about the state of the country, disposition of the people, etc.  I told him that all were weary of strife, and he would meet no opposition in any quarter, and pointed out places in the interior where supplies could be had, recommending him to station troops at such places.  I was persuaded that moderation by his officers and men would lead to intercourse, traffic, and good feeling with the people.  He thanked me for the suggestions, and adopted them.

The Governors of Mississippi and Alabama, Clarke and Watts, had asked for advice in the emergency produced by surrender, which they had been informed was impending, and I thought their best course would be to summon their State Legislatures.  These would certainly provide for conventions of the people to repeal ordinances of secession and abolish slavery, thus smoothing the way for the restoration of their States to the Union.  Such action would be in harmony with the theory and practice of the American system, and clear the road of difficulties.  The North, by its Government, press, and people, had been declaring for years that the war was for the preservation of the Union and for nothing else, and Canby and I, in the innocence of our hearts, believed it.  As Canby thought well of my plan, I communicated with the Governors, who acted on it; but the Washington authorities imprisoned them for abetting a new rebellion.

Returned to Meridian, I was soon ready for the Federal officers, who came quietly to our camp and entered on their appointed work; and I have now in my possession receipts given by them for public stores.  Meanwhile, I received from Canby a letter informing me that he had directed two of his corps commanders, Generals Steele and Granger, to apply to me for instructions concerning the movement of their troops, as to time, places, and numbers.  It was queer for one to be placed in quasi command of soldiers that he had been fighting for four years, and to whom he had surrendered; but I delicately made some suggestions to these officers, which were adopted.

With two or three staff officers, I remained at Meridian until the last man had departed, and then went to Mobile.  General Canby most considerately took me, Tom, and my two horses on his boat to New Orleans; else I must have begged my way.  The Confederate paper (not currency, for it was without exchangeable value) in my pocket would not have served for traveling expenses; and my battered old sword could hardly be relied on for breakfasts, dinners, and horse feed.

After an absence of four years, I saw my native place and home, New Orleans.  My estate had been confiscated and sold, and I was without a penny.  The man of Uz admitted that naked he came into the world, and naked must leave it; but to find himself naked in the midst of it tried even his patience.  My first care was to sell my horses, and a purchaser was found who agreed to take and pay for them the following morning.  I felt somewhat eager to get hold of the “greenbacks,” and suffered for my avarice.  The best horse, one that had carried me many a weary mile and day without failing, could not move a hoof when the purchaser came to take him.  Like other veterans, long unaccustomed to abundance of prog, he had overfed and was badly foundered.  Fortunately, the liveryman proposed to take this animal as a consideration for the keep of the two, and the price received for the other would suffice to bring my wife and children from the Red River to New Orleans, and was sent to them for that purpose.

Awaiting the arrival of my family, I had a few days of rest at the house of an old friend, when Generals Price, Buckner, and Brent came from Shreveport, the headquarters of the “Trans-Mississippi Department,” under flag of truce, and sent for me.  They reported a deplorable condition of affairs in that region.  Many of the troops had taken up the idea that it was designed to inveigle them into Mexico, and were greatly incensed.  Some generals of the highest rank had found it convenient to fold their tents and quietly leave for the Rio Grande; others, who remained, were obliged to keep their horses in their quarters and guard them in person; and numbers of men had disbanded and gone off.  By a meeting of officers, the gentlemen present were deputed to make a surrender and ask for Federal troops to restore order.  The officers in question requested me to be present at their interview with General Canby, who also invited me, and I witnessed the conclusion.  So, from the Charleston Convention to this point, I shared the fortunes of the Confederacy, and can say, as Grattan did of Irish freedom, that I “sat by its cradle and followed its hearse.”

For some weeks after my return to New Orleans, I had various occasions to see General Canby on matters connected with the surrender, and recall no instance in which he did not conform to my wishes.  Narrow perhaps in his view, and harsh in discharge of duty, he was just, upright, and honorable, and it was with regret that I learned of his murder by a band of Modoc savages.