USA > Maine > The sword of honor; a story of the civil war > Part 5
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I have mentioned, in a preceding chapter that during the years of 1865 and '66, the command to which I belonged, First Maine Unassigned Battalion, Colonel C. S. Brown, Commanding, was stationed in the upper districts of western South Carolina, in the
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towns of Cheraw, Pickens, Laurens, Abbeville, Green- ville, and Anderson, with headquarters at the latter place, doing a sort of Freedman's Bureau duty : making contracts with the planters and former slaves, keeping order in the towns we garrisoned, and look- ing after any United States property that might be in the district, as all property, such as arms, aminuni- tion, quartermaster and commissary stores. Govern- ment cotton, formerly owned by the Confederate Government, after the surrender, was the property of "Uncle Sam"; and we were instructed to take it wherever and whenever we saw it. This would ex- plain our duties and positions, and, as a rule, they were not arduous nor unpleasant; there was very little conflict with the people, as they accepted the situation under the changed conditions. Yet, one must realize that the presence of United States troops in their homes, so short a time after the close of the War, was not a comforting assurance.
The Confederate Government, the latter part of the Rebellion, taxed the people in kind, in cotton and other produce from their plantations, to help carry on the war; and this tax was willingly paid; and at the close of the war, there were thousands of bales around the country that should have been in the hands of the United States Government.
We were told by some loyal citizens, where there was a certain amount of cotton stored on the bank
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of the Savannah river, waiting to be shipped by some private parties to Augusta, Georgia. This cotton was located at a place called "Brown's Ferry" fifteen miles from Anderson, and I detailed three men and sent them at once to the Ferry, and told them to re- main there until relieved, or the cotton had been removed to Anderson. This was done, but on the morning following the day when I sent the men to the river, the ferryman stationed at the river where the cotton was stored came to the Court-house with the startling information that the three men who were acting as guard over the cotton had all been murdered the night before, and their bodies thrown into the water. I at once ordered a squad of men to saddle their horses, and we lost no time in getting over this fifteen miles to the river-bank, and there,- too true! we found only pools of blood where three good Union soldiers had been the night before.
I soon got their lifeless bodies from the bottom of the river, and pressing wagons in the vicinity, took their mangled remains back with me to the Court- house. The town authorities gave us a place in their cemetery, and we buried our innocent men with proper military honors.
In time, we captured all of their murderers, who were tried by a military Court Martial at Columbus, South Carolina. Two were sentenced to be hanged and four were imprisoned for life-a perfectly just
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sentence; but within two years from that date, these men were all pardoned, and returned to their homes by our then president, Andrew Johnson. This happened on October 8, 1865. In the following April, we left the South; our three Maine soldiers remaining behind in the Anderson cemetery, where they were buried, the October before.
Shortly after we left South Carolina, a true Southern woman, fearless, loyal and Christian, took it upon herself, against the wishes of her personal friends, to decorate, each Memorial Day, the graves of our dead, just the same as the dead of the Con- federacy. And this Christian-like act she has per- sonally continued up to the present time.
I had kept in touch with the people of Anderson since I left there in 1866, having corresponded with some of their leading citizens, and was known officially to this angel of mercy, Miss Lenora Hubbard. When this obscure village had grown into a thriving city, residences and cemeteries were removed to make way for the march of improvement, and the cemetery where our boys were buried had to be moved also. This good woman went to the city authorities, and had assigned to her a spacious lot in the new cemetery for the burial of our boys. Knowing my address, she wrote to me, to see if some provision could not be made by the State toward detraying the expense of head-stones for their graves, as she did
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not feel financially able to do it herself. Our corre- spondence was made public through the press, and coming to the ears of the officials at Washington, an order was given by the Quartermaster General to have these bodies taken up and removed to the National Cemetery at Marietta, Georgia.
I knew this would be a disappointment to Miss Hubbard as she had cared for our boys for many years; but the will of the Government was stronger than the wish of this lone woman-so the bodies were removed. Feeling that Miss Hubbard should be recognized for her sacrifice and heroic act, I wrote to the Governor of Maine, and asked his assistance. Governor Cobb immediately entered in- to my plan of having the Legislature take hold of the matter. When it convened in the following January, he brought the matter before his Council, and they unanimously agreed to recommend an act publicly thanking Miss Hubbard for her patriotic service; the same, after its passage, was engrossed on parchment and sent to Anderson, with the united thanks of the Legislature.
RESOLUTIONS OF MAINE LEGISLATURE.
STATE OF MAINE.
In Council, Feb. 8, 1905.
The Standing Committee on Military Affairs to which was referred certain correspondence relating to the
MISS LENORA C. HUBBARD
The patriotic southern woman who for forty years deco- rated and cared for the graves of soldiers of First Maine Battalion.
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care of burial places of Maine soldiers at Anderson, South Carolina.
Report, that an examination of the evidence at hand discloses the fact that at Anderson, South Carolina, the graves of certain Union soldiers, some of whom were from this state, have, until recent action by the federal authorities, through inadvert- ence or mistake, been completely overlooked and neglected, so that they might have suffered oblitera- tion but for the generous and patriotic action of a southern woman, Miss Lenora C. Hubbard, President of the Anderson Memorial Association.
We find that Miss Hubbard has at her own expense and actuated only by motives of Christianity and broad-minded patriotism, for many years kept the mounds of these graves in a respectable condition, so that they might be identified by their friends, and on each succeeding Memorial Day, personally decorated them with American flags.
It seems to us that Miss Hubbard's action is of such a character as to deserve an appropriate recogni- tion at the hands of this state, and in conformity with that idea we herewith recommend the passage of the following resolution :
Resolved, that the thanks of this body be extended to
MISS LENORA C. HUBBARD OF ANDERSON, SOUTH CAROLINA '
in grateful and appreciative recognition of her noble and patriotic service to the people of this state, in caring for and honoring the graves of certain soldiers, formerly citizens of Maine, who died in defense of the Union.
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Which is respectfully submitted.
W. B. CLARK, Chairman.
In Council, Feb. 8, 1905.
Read and accepted by the Council and by the Governor approved.
Attest : BYRON BOYD, Secretary of State.
I am still in correspondence with this true-blue Southern woman, whom it is an honor and credit to know. She is generally loved and respected by all who have the pleasure of her acquaintance; she has · more honorable titles from Confederate camps and societies than any woman south of Mason and Dixon's line- her love and charity being broad enough to take in both Union and Confederate armies. It has been said that the Southern women by their loyalty and sacrifice kept the war going twelve months longer than it otherwise would have been, for they helped the struggling men in the field; and although the same men fought against me, I respect and honor the part these Southern women took.
Our Northern women will never know what their Southern sisters suffered and endured to give en- couragement and help to their overtaxed and starving veterans in the field. Some of them even did men's work on the plantations, to allow their old and young men to go to the front, others made cloth- ing for their fathers, brothers and lovers-doing all that was honorable and brave to perform their part in the great struggle.
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What the war meant to the Southern women, will be shown in the following extracts from a letter written by Miss Hubbard to a Northern friend.
EXTRACTS FROM MISS HUBBARD'S LETTER
The good women in many parts of Maine have sent me a number of post cards, many of them un- usually interesting ones. Seeing these pictures of your splendid buildings, especially your many fine school buildings makes me feel keenly the poverty of our South land. While your soldiers returned to find their homes and educational institutions just as they left them. our Southern men returned to ruined homes and to the heavy task of rebuilding almost the entire country. If the men found this a hard task what can be said of our women who, by the fortunes of war, were left widows and orphans to struggle against such fearful odds? Hardest of all they had to break away from so many old Southern traditions, as to woman's sphere. With so many professions and occupations closed to them theirs seemed almost a hopeless outlook.
My father died two years after the close of the war, and left my mother with five little children, not one of whom was old enough to be of any help to her. I know what a struggle she had; for all her friends and relatives were too poor to help her. My father, a comparatively rich man, had such faith in the triumph of the Confederacy that he converted all his property into government bonds. Thus we were left almost penniless. The South had few schools then, no free ones. No one knows the task of my
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mother to care for us and give us some little educa- tion.
At that time not one woman in Anderson had dared venture out from the sheltered privacy of home and enter store or office to earn a living. I well re- member the first one who did so; and though the position she filled was that of bookkeeper in her own father's store, for a time she was almost ostracized for so departing from "Woman's Sphere." I was the second one to take this daring step, and at the age of fifteen was given a position in the photographic studio of an old friend of father's. My doing so called forth a storm of protests from uncles and aunts, not one of whom was financially able to make it unnecessary for me to do this. My hours at the studio were from 9 A. M. to 5 P. M. I got up at six every morning, practiced my music until seven, then helped cook breakfast, went to my work in the studio and in my spare moments there prepared a lesson in German which I recited to a private tutor after supper. Then three times a week I had a Latin lesson after studio hours. In this way I prepared myself to teach. After I secured a diploma which entitled me to teach, it took thirteen years of hard work to save enough money to buy. my little home.
I have seen the Old South, its chivalry and tradi- tions disappear and watched the development of our grand New South, with its spirit of progress, and vast opportunities for botn women and men. Our country is just beginning to be what God meant it to be and with increasing financial prosperity, our
HON. JOHN C. GRADY
Ex-Senator from Philadelphia. Penn .: formerly non- commissioned officer Co. A. First Maine Battalion. whose life was saved by change of detail on the Brown's Ferry Raid.
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people are striving to attain the position which our great natural facilities entitle us to hold.
Sincerely your friend, LENORA HUBBARD.
LETTER FROM HON. JOHN C. GRADY.
The following letter from Hon. John C. Grady, of Philadelphia, formerly of the First Maine Battalion, will add to the value of this Story of the War, as it throws light upon the incident at Brown's Ferry, to which I have already referred.
Mr. H. A. Johnson, Worcester, Mass. Mr Dear Adjutant :
The narrative of your eventful experience in the darkest days of the Civil War proves that there is an indubitable power shaping the affairs of men. I re- call your capture, almost a living death as a prisoner, the heroic dash for liberty, the perils and privations suffered for months within a hostile country. It was a happy destiny that crowned it with success.
One event is deeply impressed on my mind, where that power intervened. I refer to the First Maine Battalion of which you were the Adjutant and prac- tically its executive officer. When it occupied Western South Carolina in the Fall of 1865 an order came on the evening of October 6, from the General commanding at Columbia to send a detachment to stop the illicit removal of Government Cotton, from Brown's Ferry twenty-three miles away on the Savannah River. Immediately I was designated, as the non-commissioned officer of the small detachment, to go and execute the order. The night was dark and
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rainy, the road rough and unfamiliar, the inhabitants semi-hostile, the horses tired and sore,-unwelcome prospects in store for an all night ride. While this was transpiring you were making a call upon Governor Orr, at his residence, in a remote part of the town. Returning, your true course was diagonal- ly across the open square, but for some reason you chose the sides of the triangle, perhaps attracted by the horses under saddle, and seeing us preparing to mount you asked "What is up?" Thereupon you ordered the Sergeant Major to select another Non- Commissioned officer in my stead on the ground that you bad another duty for me at Headquarters on the morrow, and but for this change I should have been killed on the night of my eighteenth birthday October S, when these men were overpowered by supe- rior numbers, and all met death. This tragical event was made notable by one of the greatest military trials in the annals of the war and subsequently by Congressional inquiry concerning its results. The quick apprehension of the participants, the manner in which it was done. with so light a force, convinced the people of that section that you were a stranger to all fear.
Proceeding-your revocation of my detail per- mitted me to live longer-six years later to be ad- mitted to the practice of the law in Philadelphia and continue, so far, thirty-four years-to be twice offered to be elevated to the Judiciary of the State and de- clined; permitted me to be a member of the State Senate for twenty-eight years consecutively, being seven years longer than anyone else in the history of the State, and twice offered a seat in Congress-a
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commissioner to represent Pennsylvania at every ex- position since the Centennial also permitted me to make an extensive impress on the Laws of the State. Several that were innovations at the time . have at- tracted the attention of other states and are found engrafted in their laws, such as the Fugitive from Justice Act, The Title Insurance Act; and now trust companies doing business under that act may be found in every large city in the Union; so reflecting upon whatever good I have been permitted to do. The thought flows back to the cheerless October night in '65, when you in an instant, became my con- servator, and further back to the perilous times through which you passed that enabled you to be present to exercise the power inherent in you as Adjutant, when I was inapprehensive that the ride we were about to take, was to the grave; and to further work out the theory of predestination, what went before that date with you, must commingle with all that has occurred with me since, by your grace.
Pride in your military achievements will not be confined to your children nor your children's children ; for the survivors of two Maine military organiza- tions have spread it far and wide, and the narrative should be preserved among the Archives of your native State.
With best wishes,
Yours truly,
JOHN C. GRADY.
CHAPTER XI
Anderson, S. C., March 20, 1906.
To My Readers :
It has been my fondest ambition to once more visit the scenes of my last twelve months' service, and Columbia, the home of my captor, Capt. Smith, al- though he is not living. The readers of my book will remember on preceding pages I have mentiond correspondence with members of his family, also citizens of Anderson. When I proposed to rewrite the "Sword of Honor," I did not think any such joy and pleasure was in store for me. From the heading of this letter, however, you will see that I am at the very spot where the last eight months of my service in the Federal Army were passed, and at the delight- ful home of my almost life-long friend, J. A. Brock, Esq., of Anderson.
February 10, I left Massachusetts with Mrs. John- son, to start on my proposed Southern trip, which I had desired to take for forty years, and after passing eight very pleasant days in New York with my sister, Mrs. Alexander Doyle, Mrs. Johnson and I went to Philadelphia to visit my friend of forty-one years, the Hon. John C. Grady, whom I had not seen since our muster-out of service at Charleston, S. C., on April 5, 1866. To say our meeting was a joyous one would but feebly express it.
Friend Grady gave us forty-eight hours of rare pleasure, a portion of the time being passed at Atlantic City, N. J.
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From Philadelphia, I commenced my Southern trip alone, my first stopping place being Richmond, Va. Having a warm place in my heart for the boys who wore the Gray, I knew the best way to get in touch with them was to go to the head of their veteran organization of Southern Soldiers, the Robert E. Lee Camp, which fortunately for me, had a most brilliant, courteous and accommodating gentleman for commander, Gen. O. B. Morgan. Through his kindness I was shown their camp head- quarters, filled with magnificent oil paintings of their heroes of the Lost Cause, of both Army and Navy, of their late president, Jefferson Davis, and wife, also of their daughter, Miss Winnie Davis, the daughter of the Southern confederacy.
From this camp so beautiful in its proportions and rich in its portraits, I was taken to the Soldiers' Home for Disabled Southern Veterans.
For two hours I was entertained by the officers in charge of this well-kept home and was shown through their fine museum of army relics, chief among them being the horse, "Old Sorrell," ridden by Gen. Stonewall Jackson through all his campaigns, from first Manassas to Chancellorsville, May 3, 1863, where he, the General, lost his life in what we, the Union soldiers, call the "Midnight Charge." It was here we sought to regain the position taken from us by Jackson's corps the afternoon previous, the Eleventh corps of the Union army breaking and losing a very strong position, one necessary to retake, if possible, for the reestablishing of our own line.
In the " Midnight Charge," Stonewall Jackson lost his life, and for a long time it was thought by the
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Union forces, but history tells us that it was by his . own men. If so, we are glad, for no one wishes the credit at this hour and in this day of reconciliation and peace, the credit or discredit of taking the life of this good and just man. Although we know his cause was wrong, we can but respect him for what he was and for his honesty of purpose, and do not wish to think that we shed his blood.
I left this well-cared for home with regret, for it was indeed a pleasure to shake the hand of these Boys in Gray. I have a heart full of respect for them; for the Stars and Stripes floating over their Soldiers' Home showed they were again united with us, under but one flag and government. There was room in my heart only for good fellowship and respect.
I left the City of Richmond, the scene of my first captivity, with feelings of deep regard at the treatment I had received at the hands of its late Confederate soldiers, for no brother could have had kinder treat- ment than these same late combatants showed me, and with a request from Gen. Morgan that on my return trip I should stop off and address the R. E. Lee camp. As my train pulled out for Columbia, the last expression from the hero of many battles was "God-speed and a safe return."
I advanced towards Columbia with peculiar feel- ings. I was going to the widow and daughters of my late departed hero, Capt. Smith, who had not only spared my life in fierce battle; but had, ten years later, returned my captured sword with words of praise that almost made me wild with joy-who had corresponded with me for many years, and after his
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death the correspondence was continued by his faith- ful daughter, Mrs. Lila Smith Mobley. Now, I was to meet them face to face for the first time. I knew I should be welcome from the tone of their many letters, but I did not look for such tender, kind treat- ment as I received for sixteen happy days. No dear brother returning from a long absence of years could have received a warmer welcome; and while in their hospitable home, there was no hour of the day or night, while we were not sleeping, that their home was not filled with company in my honor,-soldiers, civilians, clergymen of all creeds, editors, merchants, and last, but not least, God bless them, the Ladies- all giving me a welcome only given to a chosen few in this life.
I left Columbia and its most hospitable people with many regrets, and with feelings of respect and affec- tion for the press and people who had been so kind to me, under obligations to them I never can cancel.
My trip to Anderson was one looked forward to with happiness, for here I had done something worth remembering and acknowledging perhaps; I had been here for eight months in charge of United States troops, from August 1865 to April 1866. While in Columbia I had been only a poor prisoner-of-war, helpless and unfortunate, but who fortunately escaped from their care. At this hour I am the guest of one of their Lieutenants of the Guard, under whose care I was supposed to be, Mr. J. A. Brock, who is giving me the best his home affords, and that best is good enough for a king. He has a palatial residence, and a family that any man may be proud of, brilliant, hospitable, musical, to a wonderful degree, and with
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very tender hearts. This rainy morning they have made me very comfortable and happy by their care- ful attention, while forty years ago this same gentle- man, as a Confederate officer, was doing his best to confine me within the limits of his stockade.
Truly, sometimes truth is stranger than fiction. I have been here one week, renewing old acquaintances made forty years ago. I find many familiar faces, but the city has changed more than its people. In 1865 it numbered 1,000 people; today, 15,000. Then not a manufactory of any kind, the raising of cotton its chief industry. Now, ten large and prosperous cotton manufactories, twine, phosphate, cotton-seed oil, yarn and hosiery mills and other minor industries.
I have been the guest of its best people who say I have the respect of the whole community, and the press has been very kind to me in very complimentary notices. Have been called upon by scores of its people, all extending the kindest hospitality to me, inviting me to their homes, etc.
To the following I am under personal obligations for courtesies given me in Columbia :
The Smiths, Mobleys, Browns, Gastons, Adams, Wings, English, Editor Gonzales, Rev. Dr. Niles, Rev. Drs. Smith and Whitsell, Capt. Netherly, Col. Alex Haskell, Post-Master Ensar, Prof. Andrews, Mrs. Doby, and many others.
In Anderson, Mr. J. A. Brock and family, Mr. C. A. Reed, Mr. Frank Cunningham, Rev. R. C. Jeter, Mr. Paine, Col. Brown, Gen. M. L. Bonham, Capt. H. H. Watkins, Messrs. Carpenter, P. K. McCully, Mr. Sloan, B. F. Crayton, Mr. Bolt, Mrs. E. E. Moore, and last, but not least, Miss Lenora Hubbard.
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MRS. LILA SMITH MOBLEY Daughter of Capt. J. C. B. Smith
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Forty-one years' separation has not made this grateful people forget the slightest thing I, in my offi- cial capacity, found it possible to do for them. The ancient and time-worn saying has become literally true in my case, "Cast thy bread upon the waters; for thou shalt find it after many days."
With this morning's work, I cannot, I believe, add anything more to my "Sword of Honor,"-only to say this in conclusion that I feel indeed fortunate to. have lived to see this day, to once more come back to this people whom I had fought honorably-their sons and brothers in the field, while there was an armed Confederate to engage. When peace came over a united country, I tried just as hard to be their brother as I did to be their foe, and I know in the former I have succeeded without losing a particle of my self-respect as a Union soldier ; for in all presence, I have ever been loyal to my government, constantly contending I was on the right side, and insisting that both could not be right, but giving my Brother_ in Gray his right to think he was right.
I have been South since February 20th, having passed Washington's birthday in Richmond, and al- though I have talked with 500 of Lee's veteran soldiers, more or less, not one word has been said to me that could wound the most sensitive heart; and in closing I would say
" God bless our whole country,".
and more particularly the brave Southern women who performed their whole duty to the Lost Cause, and have given me eight weeks of unalloyed happi- ness by their whole-souled hospitality.
My last two weeks in the South, after leaving An-
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derson, were passed with the Smiths at Columbia, with a continuance of the same courtesies extended as in my first visit. I left them with deepest regrets, also the city in which I had received such marked at- tention.
With much to be grateful for, I am, Faithfully yours, HANNIBAL A. JOHNSON.
Late Lieutenant Company B, 3d Maine Infantry. 1st Lieutenant and Adjutant 1st Maine Unassigned Battalion.
L'ENVOY.
As I look back over the pages of this little book, and bespeak for it a cordial welcome with old com- rades and dear friends, North and South, I thank God that the Blue and the Gray have blended into the perfect harmony of Love and Peace. The stripes and the bars have faded from sight, and in their place, over a united country, floats our Glorious National Emblem,
THE AMERICAN FLAG.
"So with an equal splendor The morning sun-rays fall, With a touch impartially tender On the blossoms blooming for all.
Under the sod and the dew Waiting the judgment day ;
'Broidered with gold the Bine; Mellowed with gold the Gray.
No more shall the war-cry sever, Or the winding rivers be red ;
They banish our anger forever When they laurel the graves of our dead!
Under the sod and the dew Waiting the judgment day ; Love and tears for the Blue
Tears and love for the Gray."
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