by Walter Cisco
The road was filled with an indiscriminate mass of armed men, on horseback and on foot ... while to the right and to the left, joining the mass, and detaching from it, singly and in groups, were hundreds going empty-handed and returning laden. Disregarding the lanes and pathways, they broke through fields and enclosures, spreading in every direction that promised plunder or attracted their curiosity.''
Lt. William H. Root, of the Seventy-fifth New York Infantry Regiment, claimed that an effort was made to protect "every house of more than two chimneys," though securing them proved ineffective in practice. The lieutenant noted that "the smaller houses of the poor are left unguarded."" It hardly mattered. One reported that "this destroying spirit ... spared neither rich nor poor." Buildings of all description were dismantled and used by Federals for the construction of bridges or to provide tent floors. Many were simply torched, their owners evicted. It was a common sight to see troops warming themselves or cooking over campfires of burning, plundered furniture."
A variety of animals-horses, oxen, ponies, cattle, sheepwere rounded up and penned in the town of Opelousas and there left to die uncared-for. Elise Thibodeaux, living on the Vermilion, was shocked to see hundreds of cattle corralled in his yard and then shot down by soldiers. He spoke only French and was unable to question them but concluded that the slaughter was done simply to deny the people their means of living. When neighbors came later to help bury the festering carcasses, they counted seventeen hundred dead animals. At another plantation Yankee soldiers broke the backs of calves with heavy clubs and threw sheep and pigs onto their bayonets. Newborn colts were killed. Fields, gardens, orchards, and shade trees, even ancient oaks, were destroyed. Piles of farm implements could be seen: plows, cultivators, shovels, and hoes along with coopers', carpenters', and blacksmiths' tools of every description. "In all cases," went the report, "the wood work has been consumed by fire, and the iron parts bent or broken."15
Arrests of civilians were common and in most cases arbitrary. Dr. Francis Mudd, a Vermilionville physician, was arrested at his home and taken to Federal headquarters. There he found several other local civilians also detained without charges. Thirteen days later all were released, only to discover that their homes had been plundered. Alexander Mouton, former Louisiana governor, was arrested and held in New Orleans for six months. There were many others.
Confederate scouts shot Union captain Howard Dwight near Bayou Boeuf. In retaliation, Banks ordered the arrest of all male citizens living on the bayou for a distance of forty miles. Sixteen were arrested in St. Landry alone. Some were mere boys. The oldest, eighty-year-old Jesse Andrus, was taken fiftyfive miles from his home before being released. The others spent four days in the Opelousas jail before being transported by rail to Algiers then New Orleans. Hiram G. Roberts, fortysix, and Solomon Link, fifty, died during confinement. Finally, after two months, the rest were released and allowed to find a way home.16
Rev. James Earl Bradley, a young Methodist minister, lived in the home of Collin Adams, west of Opelousas. The Adams household was visited by the Yankees during their spring 1863 invasion, when the family lost a horse, a saddle, and a quantity of food. "They examined the cabins," wrote Reverend Bradley, "robbed us of our dinner (and robbed) the Negroes too. It was such fun to see a big darkie in the cabins daring white soldiers to search him." When the invaders returned in October of that year, the situation became much worse. As a Union cavalry unit rode up, Reverend Bradley raised his arms, prayed out loud, and admonished the invaders to obey the commandment against stealing. They pushed the preacher away and "began a pillage that the Devil himself would blush at." Indignant, Reverend Bradley wrote a letter of protest to the Federal commander and delivered the missive himself. Within hours he found himself under arrest "as a suspicious and dangerous character."
The home, barn, and store of Samuel Schmulen were looted and burned. He and his children managed to carry the ill Mrs. Schmulen to safety, placing her on a mattress in the yard as flames consumed their residence. Benjamin George, a fiftyyear-old slave who lived nearby, saw the situation and tried to help his neighbor at least save the store. The effort was in vain. Then a group of drunken soldiers surrounded George, demanding to know why he, a black man, would try to assist this white Southerner. They demanded his money, and when George pleaded that he did not have any, one of the soldiers shot him in the right thigh. He survived the wound but was crippled for life.'-
Banks' two invasions during 1863 accomplished little militarily. In the spring of the following year he launched an expedition against the Confederate stronghold of Shreveport, Louisiana, that came to be known as the Red River Campaign. Once again he would fail to achieve his objective, though civilians in the path of the army would suffer as never before. "From the day we started on the Red River expedition," wrote one Federal in his diary, "we were like the Israelites of old, accompanied by a cloud (of smoke) by day, and a pillar of fire by night."" Federals issued orders and in one case even offered a reward aimed at stopping "indiscriminate marauding and incendiarism, disgraceful to the army of a civilized nation.""' It went unheeded.
On April 24, 1864, Confederate major general Richard Taylor reported on the situation.
The destruction of this country by the enemy exceeds anything in history. For many miles every dwelling-house, every Negro cabin, every cotton-gin, every corn-crib, and even chicken-houses have been burned to the ground; every fence torn down and the fields torn up by the hoofs of horses and wheels of wagons. Many hundreds of persons are utterly without shelter. But for our prompt attacks Natchitoches would have been burned to the ground, and also the little village of Cloutierville, both of them having been fired in several places.""
One of the first Federal targets was the town of Alexandria. Local resident E. R. Biossat stood on Front Street and watched helplessly as the invaders poured in. "Every store in the town was at once forcibly entered and robbed of every article," said Biossat, "and the cases, windows, iron chests, shelves, etc., broken to a thousand fragments." Along with their men, blueclad officers took part in the plundering. "Private houses were entered in like manner, and robbed and desecrated," he continued. Biossat's black servant had his silver watch stolen by two Federal privates. Biossat later witnessed two marines accompanied by a navy officer enter the Second Street home of Mrs. Caleb Taylor. They removed the clock from her mantle, wrapped it in one of her quilts, and took it back to their gunboat. Two other marines and an officer plundered the Episcopal church.21
A little boy four years old, the son of a Confederate captain named Kelso, proudly proclaimed before a crowd of Yankees that he was a "rebel." A witness reported what happened next.
One of them applied a cord to his neck and suspended him as if he intended to inflict death. When gasping for breath he was taken down and asked if he were still a rebel. The stouthearted little patriot reaffirmed his rebellious sentiments and was again suspended, and so remained until a returning sense of humanity of some of the by-standers compelled his release. The child bore for some days the mark on his neck."
On May 13 the Union army was ordered to abandon Alexandria, and Banks issued his usual perfunctory orders that the town be spared destruction. Fires began breaking out that very morning, even before the commanding general himself had time to mount up and leave. One store on Front Street was torched, and a soldier was seen running about, dousing everything combustible with a turpentine-soaked mop. He was overheard to say they were "preparing the place for Hell!" Assisted by a strong wind, and more turpentine where needed, flames soon engulfed all Alexandria.
A reporter from the St. Louis Republican called the suffering there "appalling."
Women gathered their helpless babes in their arms, rushing frantically through the streets with screams and cries that would have melted the hardest hearts to tears; little boys and girls running hither and thither crying for their mothers and fathers; old men leaning on a staff for support to their trembling limbs, hurrying away from the suffocati
ng heat of their burning dwellings and homes.
White and black, free and slave, rich and poor, and those of all political persuasions saw the fire consume everything they owned. Two prominent Alexandria Unionists, John K. Elgee and J. Madison Wells, lost fine and richly furnished homes and their possessions to the flames.`
Even after the Federal withdrawal, Louisianians in this region continued to suffer at the hands of Unionist jayhawkers. Gangs of these marauders carried on what one historian called a "regime of rape, murder, and pillage," until suppressed by Confederate troops and home guard units."
Chapter 13
"No Strict Dichotomy"
The Lieber Code
At the midpoint of the war, Washington issued a new list of rules-General Order Number 100-it was claimed would henceforth govern the conduct of Federal troops. Prior to this declaration, the Articles of War (passed by the Ninth Congress in 1806) set forth "the rules and articles by which the armies of the United States shall be governed." Precursor to the Uniform Code of Military Justice, the Articles remained in effect throughout the war period, 1861-65. Among other things, an officer was required to "keep good order, and to the utmost of his power, redress all abuses or disorders, which may be committed by any officer or soldier under his command." The statute prescribed punishment for those who "commit waste or spoil" or who "maliciously destroy any property whatsoever, belonging to the inhabitants of the United States."' Denying the legality of secession, Federals were of course left with no choice but to define Southerners as "inhabitants of the United States." The Provisional Congress of the Confederate States, setting up their own military establishment in 1861, adopted the 1806 act word for word, only substituting "Confederate" in place of "United" States.'
General Order Number 100 originated with Francis Lieber. Born in Berlin, Lieber (1800-72) immigrated to Boston in 1827, by then already a veteran of Gebhard von Blucher's army and a graduate of the University of Jena. He soon made an impression as editor of the Encyclopedia Americana but did his most important work during a long tenure as professor of history and political economy at South Carolina College. Lieber's Manual of Political Ethics and On Civil Liberty and SelfGovernment established his reputation for being a firm advocate of strong, centralized government. "I, as a native German who longed for the Unity of his country from his very boyhood cannot be expected to lean much toward State Rights doctrine." In 1857 he accepted a professorship at Columbia College in New York. He soon became a supporter of the new Republican party and its 1860 standard-bearer, Abraham Lincoln.'
To his credit, Lieber was from the beginning of the war troubled by Union army excesses. On November 13, 1862, he wrote to Gen. Henry W. Halleck in Washington, suggesting that "a set of rules and definitions" be established. Lieber was himself given the task and within a few months had completed a draft. A board of officers then made revisions, omitting some items "which I regret," wrote Lieber. "Instructions for the Government of Armies of the United States in the Field" was published by the U.S. War Department as General Order Number 100 on April 24, 1863.'
Though Lieber was in general pleased with the document that bore his name, he still fretted about crimes being committed against civilians by the United States Army. Only weeks after the code officially went into effect, he wrote again to Halleck.
I believe it is now time for you to issue a strong order, directing attention to those paragraphs in the Code which prohibit devastations, demolition of private property, etc. I know by letters from the West and the South, written by men on our side, of course, that the wanton destruction of property by our men is alarming. It does incalculable injury. It demoralizes our troops, it annihilates wealth irrevocably and makes a return to a state of peace and peaceful minds more and more difficult.'
Halleck was a highly intelligent man who found in Lieber a congenial correspondent, a mind equal to his own, one he might share his thoughts with on many subjects. Lieber took Halleck at face value, no doubt assuming his new friend possessed an integrity to match his intellect. "Halleck's life demonstrated no strict dichotomy," wrote a biographer, "between success and failure, action and inaction, decision and indecision."" Halleck's double-mindedness on the matter of crimes committed by his army evidences a more profound defect: difficulty in differentiating between sincerity and deceit, truth and falsehood, right and wrong.
The armed forces of the United States had of course been committing many of the very acts proscribed by Lieber's Code, and after its adoption those crimes only increased in frequency and ferocity-with Halleck's approval and even encouragement. Ostensibly forbidden were crimes against civilians that would come to define the Federal war effort: "wanton devastation of a district" (Art. 16), "all robbery, all pillage or sacking" (Art. 44), and "arson ... assaults ... theft" (Art. 47).
In its 157 articles, exceptions often nullified a rule promulgated. For example, those who administered martial law were admonished to observe "the principles of justice, honor, and humanity" (Art. 4). "To save the country," however, "is paramount to all other considerations" (Art. 5). In order that women and children be allowed to evacuate, the enemy should be informed of a commander's intention to bombard a city, but only if the element of surprise is thought unnecessary (Art. 19). Noncombatants were not to be "murdered, enslaved, or carried off to distant parts" when this did not conflict with "the overruling demands of a vigorous war" (Art. 23).7
Confederate secretary of war James A. Seddon denounced this duplicity, characterizing General Order Number 100 as "a confused, unassorted, and undiscriminating compilation." A commander "under this code may pursue a line of conduct in accordance with principles of justice, faith, and honor, or he may justify conduct correspondent with the barbarous hordes who overran the Roman Empire, or who, in the Middle Ages, devastated the continent of Asia and menaced the civilization of Europe.""
Maj. Gen. Henry W. Halleck
Clouded by loopholes and lax enforcement, the code still endorsed the concept of "hard war." "Military necessity ... allows of all destruction of property, and obstruction of the ways and channels of traffic, travel, or communication, and of all withholding of sustenance or means of life from the enemy" (Art. 15). "War is not carried on by arms alone. It is lawful to starve the hostile belligerent, armed or unarmed, so that it leads to the speedier subjugation of the enemy" (Art. 17). If noncombatants are "expelled" from (or attempt to flee?) a place under siege, it is permissible "to drive them back, so as to hasten on the surrender" (Art. 18). War is defined as a struggle between states, not merely between the armed forces of those states. "The citizen or native of a hostile country is thus an enemy, as one of the constituents of the hostile state or nation, and as such is subjected to the hardships of war" (Art. 21).
"The ultimate object of all modern war is a renewed state of peace" was the disingenuous conclusion of the Lieber Code. "The more vigorously wars are pursued, the better it is for humanity" (Art. 29)."
Chapter 14
"We Spent the Rest of That Day
in the Dungeon"
Women and Children in Prison
When the troops of Brig. Gen. Kenner Garrard entered Roswell, Georgia, on July 6, 1864, they found a factory operating (though not at full capacity), capable of producing 30,000 yards of woolen cloth per month. A cotton mill nearby held 216 looms and could turn out 191,000 yards of cotton cloth monthly, in addition to huge quantities of thread and rope. Another factory stood about a mile and a half outside of town. In all the combined value of the machinery at the three plants was estimated at four hundred thousand dollars, the worth of the businesses perhaps one million dollars. Some four hundred women were employed at the mills, and many children accompanied their mothers to work. Spinners, pressers, and carders made little more than their expenses for board; skilled weavers earned much more; all were glad to have gainful employment. Not surprisingly, the primary customer for textiles produced at the mills was the Confederate government, for use by that country's army.
At le
ast some investors backing the enterprise were British and French. Garrard observed a French tricolor flying over the woolen factory, "but seeing no Federal flag above it I had the building burnt," he reported to Sherman. "All are burnt."'
"The women and children filed out of the structure at once," wrote a Federal artilleryman, "and stood in quiet wonder on the banks of the stream, watching our preparations for the destruction of the mills." A Union officer riding through Roswell observed the scene. "About 400 factory girls lined the sides of the road as we passed presenting quite a sad appearance, as they were thrown out of employment and seemed not to know where they would go or what to do."'
Sherman knew what to do. Within hours he ordered Garrard to "arrest the owners and employees and send them, under guard, charged with treason, to Marietta." He expected that the "poor women will howl." Children were to accompany them. He was delighted that the mills had been burned, but furious to learn that the manager tried to avert destruction by flying a neutral flag. "Should you," Sherman wrote Garrard, "under the impulse of anger, natural at contemplating such perfidy, hang the wretch, I approve the act before hand."'
The prisoners were loaded onto 110 wagons and transported thirteen miles in the July heat over rutted roads to Marietta. First held at the Georgia Military Institute, from Marietta the women and children were sent by rail to Nashville. They finally began arriving in Louisville, Kentucky, about two weeks after their arrest. "Only think of it!" wrote the New York Tribune. "Four hundred weeping and terrified Ellens, Susans, and Maggies transported ... away from their lovers and brothers of the sunny south, and all for the offense of weaving tent-cloth and spinning stocking yarn!"4
Their new residences were a house that had been recently seized on Broadway between Twelfth and Thirteenth Streets and a newly constructed building between Tenth and Eleventh. The Federal prison for men was close by, as was the terminal of the Louisville & Nashville Railroad.' A Wisconsin reporter visited the women and came away thoroughly disgusted. "They uttered loud and bitter curses on General Sherman," asking why he drove them from their homes, why he left them nothing, why he arrested women and children and sent them to faraway imprisonment. Rather than consider those rather serious questions, the Wisconsinite spent his entire article making fun of the girls' grammar and accent. The Louisville Daily Journal claimed that the women had begged to leave Georgia; that Sherman's "enlarged and generous spirit of humanity" prompted him to send them to where "they could find work and security." The editor of that paper reported their new rooms "clean and airy," their children "rosy-cheeked.""
