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I'm currently reading through the Memphis Daily Appeal for 1861 and prior to the capture of the city in 1862. The newspaper has a correspondent in Virginia with the nom de plume "Dixie", who is actually John Reuben Thompson, an editor of the famous _Southern Literary Messenger_. He has turned out to be one of my favorite Southern war correspondents. Here are a few examples of his writing:
MEMPHIS DAILY APPEAL [MEMPHIS, TN], October 29, 1861, p. 2, c. 2
From Richmond.
[Special Correspondence of the Appeal.]
Richmond, October 24, 1861.
Our streets have presented to-day an appearance of unusual animation. The morning was magnificent, softening, as the day advanced, from the sharp temperature accompanying a white frost, to the genial balminess of the richest October sunshine. At an early hour, the fine cavalry regiment of Col. Ransom, from North Carolina, nine hundred strong, with one hundred and fifty led horses, passed from their recent encampment through the town, on their way to Manassas. They filed through the Capitol Square, saluting the equestrian statue of Washington as they wound around its base, and taking the Governor's mansion and the President's house in their way, made their departure by the northern suburb amid the cheers of the multitude. Beautiful steeds, one company entirely of black horse, another of iron grey, a third of light grey, a fourth of sorrel, and so on; excellent riders, well armed and equipped, in fine drill; the show they made, with their gay guidons fluttering in the air and the line stretching almost as far as the eye could reach along the street, was, indeed, splendid. . . .
I must tell you a good joke. An order was received here, a few days ago, from the army of the Potomac, for seventy-five regimental flags of an entirely new and "strange" device. They were to be made up and forwarded to Manassas in forty-eight hours. The whole matter was to be kept a profound secret. So the making of the flags was entrusted to seventy-five ladies, who were expected to hold their seventy-five little tongues for the space of two days and nights at the least. I need not tell you that the fact, and the pattern of the banner, and the short time in which the order was to be filled—in short, all about it, was known to everybody the next morning. The ladies of Richmond are zealous and patriotic, but does Gen. Johnston expect them to perform impossibilities?
Dixie.
MEMPHIS DAILY APPEAL [MEMPHIS, TN], November 8, 1861, p. 3, c. 4
Letter from Centerville.
[Special Correspondence of the Appeal.]
Centerville, October 30, 1861.
A long straggling street, with dilapidated houses at considerable intervals, the roadway very much obstructed by rocks—the primitive granitic bowlders [sic] cropping out at the surface here and there—(I am not quite sure that my geological terminology is O.K., but n'importe), camps all around, horses hitched to every rail of the tumble-down fences, Confederate flags displayed in all directions, camps again, soldiers galloping up and down, soldiers lounging about, small specimens of "peculiar institution," otherwise "contraband of war" peddling chickens and chestnuts, a good deal of gold lace and red shirt, a few more camps, seen by glimpses afar off—such is Centerville at the present moment of writing. As we entered it last night, coming from Manassas by the road across Blackburn's Ford, the village and its surroundings looked, in the darkness, like some vast crowded city, the camp-fires and tent-lanterns simulating the vistas of gas-light, as London looks from Primrose Hill or Naples from the hights [sic] of Posilipo after nightfall. Indeed, I could not dispel the illusion even after I had alighted from the saddle, and I dropped to sleep wearied enough and glad to accept a pallet in a tent, with the idea that the light of morning would reveal a great metropolis with its domes and steeples, and interminable ramifications of streets as far as eye could reach.
When morning came and reveille had sounded, the scene presented was anything but metropolitan, although quite as striking as that of the finest city in the old or new world. The sun, which your correspondent ordinarily permits to rise before him, was streaming over a wide expanse of country as he looked forth from the East, and bringing out in their full effect the gorgeous lines of autumn, as painted by the frost upon forests near at hand and wooded mountains in the distance. Dotting the magnificent landscape everywhere were the white tents of the army of the Potomac. A soft haze hung like a gauzy vail [sic] over all, and straight upward into the still, frosty air rose the blue wreaths of smoke from a hundred log-fires. Along the nearest road, stretching for a mile and a half in full sight toward the Stone Bridge, the road made memorable by the rout of the 21st of July, files of wagons and ambulances were coming slowly toward the village. The remote outline of the Blue Ridge, rendered just a little indistinct by the hazy atmosphere, gave a background to the picture that harmonized with its general character, which was that of quiet rural beauty. Never was a picture of war so peaceful—never was a region which seemed like a dream of peace so full of warlike images and suggestions. . . .
A most impressive and inspiring spectacle was witnessed here this afternoon in the presentation of flags to the Virginia regiments in the army of the Potomac. About 3 o'clock the several brigades, composing the Virginia forces under Gen. Johnston, began to move toward the spot chosen for the ceremony. The air was balmy, the sky a tender blue, the sunshine just that rich golden flood which, like the imagination of the poet, converts all it rests upon into splendor. Over the gently rising hills came the compact columns, with the precision of veterans, their bayonets throwing off diamond points of light, their bands filling the air with inspiring music. The Governor of Virginia attended by Col. Geo. W. Munsford, the Secretary of the State government, Col. J. M. Bennett, the first Auditor, and others, was present to deliver the flags, and around him, upon the parapet of one of the fortifications, were gathered all the distinguished leaders of our army, whose names are on the lips of the whole country—Johnston, Beauregard, G. W. Smith, Van Dorn, Kirby Smith, Stuart, Elzey—here was a brilliant assemblage of generals, and with them were the gentlemen in the staff of each, fine looking young fellows, among whom was the Prince de Polignac, the volunteer aid of Beauregard. When the regiments had all been drawn up within hearing, the Governor advanced to the edge of the parapet and addressed them in a few remarks full of force and feeling. He thanked them in the name of the Commonwealth for the steady courage with which they had sustained the ancient fame of Virginia on the bloody fields of Bull's Run and Manassas. Turning then to the colonels of the regiments, fourteen in number, who stood at his side, he gave into the hands of each a flag, with the injunction to preserve it from dishonor, varying the expression in each instance with a happy reference to the portion of the State which the officer represented. The responses of the colonels were pithy and cordial. That of Col. Corse, commanding the 17th Virginia regiment, from Alexandria, was especially affecting.
"I give you this battle flag," said the Governor to him, "go and redeem your city."
I cannot presume to report his reply, spoken as it was, in a voice faltering with emotion, and every word eloquent with the "abundance of the heart." Suffice it to say that the gallant colonel promised, with the help of heaven in a righteous cause, and supported by the brave 17th, to plant the ensign of Virginia yet upon the hights [sic] of Alexandria. There were old men on that parapet whose eyes were moist as this pledge was given, nor was the impression weakened when regiment after regiment came forward to salute its colors and marched away with them in the purple sunset. The whole scene was one to dwell in the memory of all who witnessed it.
To-morrow we are to have a grand review.
The facilities of mail detention are such between this point and all the world elsewhere that I know not when this letter will reach you, but I send it in the hope that it will not be devoid of interest when received.
Dixie.
MEMPHIS DAILY APPEAL [MEMPHIS, TN], November 10, 1861, p. 2, c. 5
Letter from Centerville.
[Special Correspondence of the Appeal.]
Centerville, Va., November 2, 1861.
A furious storm of wind and rain set in here last night about ten o'clock, and is now raging with unabated violence, sweeping across the country in sheets of water, and filling the road with the broken limbs of trees. A more cheerless spectacle than is presented from the window of the house which shelters your correspondent from the blast, could not be imagined. Fully one-half the tents are blown down in the encampments. The vidette, stationed a hundred yards up the road, paces up and down his wet, weary beat in the mud, the most moist and melancholy individual I have ever seen, except the sentry who keeps guard immediately in front of the house, it being the headquarters of a general of division. I look across the dreary fields through the dripping branches, and think of the poor, lonely pickets, four or five miles away, with some of whom I had a symposium last night while the first flurry of the tempest was shaking the canvas overhead, and the thickly falling drops were just beginning to ooze through and make things damp and unpleasant. Alas! poor soldiers, where be your gibes now, your flashes of merriment, your songs of the ride and the bivouac? And then I turn from the window, as ennuye as Tenneyson's Miss Mariana in the moated grange, and look around for something to amuse me withal in the house itself. Ha! there is a library in a corner secretary. I examine it. By their books ye shall know them. Family evidently most excellent and pious people, but such people do not always collect the most entertaining volumes for a rainy day. The Southern Methodist Pulpit, with portraits in steel engraving of many eminent and eloquent divines—Life of Bascom—Life of Summerfield—no one respects the followers of Wesley more highly than "Dixie," but these books are not to his unregenerate taste on this dismal occasion. Reading clearly, will not answer. Shall we inspect the works of art on the walls? Here are family pictures, very long, after Vandyke, to critise which would be an impertinence, and yonder is a pale Beatrice Cenci, shad of Guido! in a green dress; think of the Cenci in a green barege!! and over there is a French print of Holyrood palace, Edinburg—all f which must have greatly amazed the connoisseurs and newspaper reporters and members of the Yankee Congress, and northern belles who sojourned in this house on the 20th and 21st of July, while the cannonade was sounding beyond the Stone Bridge, and the dense cloud of smoke and dust was rising in the distance. For the owner of the mansion tells me he was honored by the calls of these miscellaneous followers of McDowell's grand army, bringing with them their hampers of provisions and baskets of champagne, and he says moreover that the last of them was glad enough to run off in pretty much such a storm on the 22d of July as is now howling out of doors. As so I get back to the rain and wind again, the sold consoling reflection connected with which is that it will most probably strand some of the ships of Lincoln's armada, and the sole resource against which in the house, is in scribbling you this letter.
Two days ago we had a fine review of Gov. Letcher, of the Virginia forces in the army of the Potomac, in the morning of four regiments of cavalry under Gen. Stuart, in the afternoon of fourteen regiments of infantry under Gen. T. J. Jackson. The day was superb and the show most brilliant. Three excellent military bands accompanied each a separate brigade, and there were four batteries of artillery. The troops bore their new regimental colors and seemed proud of them, and their whole bearing gave promise that they would behave as gallantly in the next engagement as they did at Blackburn's Ford and on Manassas Plains.
I went yesterday to the battlefield, and spent three hours in riding over it with a large party, in which were several officers who were actively engaged in the conflict. One of them was an aid of Gen. Beauregard and had in his pocket a copy of his official report, which he read to us as we proceeded from point to point, thus unfolding the whole progress of the fight in the clearest manner. There is nothing new to be said or written of Manassas, nor could I hope to interest your readers with any description of the field as it now appears. The Henry House bears all the marks of the terrible havoc that was made around it; the hides and skeletons of the horses still mark the exact spots where the Sherman and Ricketts' batteries were taken; the trees are scarred with the shot and shell which were poured into them; on every hand are graves which attest the carnival of death held there; but despite all these evidences of carnage and the little monument erected where the gallant Bartow fell I could not realize, standing on that deserted plain, in the mild Indian summer morning, that North and South were at deadly war and that here had been fought from dawn till sunset one of the bloodiest battles in modern history. I listened with so much attention to the official report as read aloud by the intelligent colonel, that I dare say I might write out from memory a pretty fair synopsis of it, but this would be an unwarrantable liberty. The report is not to be published till the war is over, and anything that may appear purporting to be its substance will be without authority.
Heavy firing in the direction of Evansport was distinctly heard here yesterday, but if an engagement has begun there, the storm of today will arrest it. From officers who have entered the room since I commenced writing I hear that the belief gains ground hourly of an attack early next week. Nous verrons.
Dixie.
Vicki Betts
vbetts@gower.net
MEMPHIS DAILY APPEAL [MEMPHIS, TN], October 29, 1861, p. 2, c. 2
From Richmond.
[Special Correspondence of the Appeal.]
Richmond, October 24, 1861.
Our streets have presented to-day an appearance of unusual animation. The morning was magnificent, softening, as the day advanced, from the sharp temperature accompanying a white frost, to the genial balminess of the richest October sunshine. At an early hour, the fine cavalry regiment of Col. Ransom, from North Carolina, nine hundred strong, with one hundred and fifty led horses, passed from their recent encampment through the town, on their way to Manassas. They filed through the Capitol Square, saluting the equestrian statue of Washington as they wound around its base, and taking the Governor's mansion and the President's house in their way, made their departure by the northern suburb amid the cheers of the multitude. Beautiful steeds, one company entirely of black horse, another of iron grey, a third of light grey, a fourth of sorrel, and so on; excellent riders, well armed and equipped, in fine drill; the show they made, with their gay guidons fluttering in the air and the line stretching almost as far as the eye could reach along the street, was, indeed, splendid. . . .
I must tell you a good joke. An order was received here, a few days ago, from the army of the Potomac, for seventy-five regimental flags of an entirely new and "strange" device. They were to be made up and forwarded to Manassas in forty-eight hours. The whole matter was to be kept a profound secret. So the making of the flags was entrusted to seventy-five ladies, who were expected to hold their seventy-five little tongues for the space of two days and nights at the least. I need not tell you that the fact, and the pattern of the banner, and the short time in which the order was to be filled—in short, all about it, was known to everybody the next morning. The ladies of Richmond are zealous and patriotic, but does Gen. Johnston expect them to perform impossibilities?
Dixie.
MEMPHIS DAILY APPEAL [MEMPHIS, TN], November 8, 1861, p. 3, c. 4
Letter from Centerville.
[Special Correspondence of the Appeal.]
Centerville, October 30, 1861.
A long straggling street, with dilapidated houses at considerable intervals, the roadway very much obstructed by rocks—the primitive granitic bowlders [sic] cropping out at the surface here and there—(I am not quite sure that my geological terminology is O.K., but n'importe), camps all around, horses hitched to every rail of the tumble-down fences, Confederate flags displayed in all directions, camps again, soldiers galloping up and down, soldiers lounging about, small specimens of "peculiar institution," otherwise "contraband of war" peddling chickens and chestnuts, a good deal of gold lace and red shirt, a few more camps, seen by glimpses afar off—such is Centerville at the present moment of writing. As we entered it last night, coming from Manassas by the road across Blackburn's Ford, the village and its surroundings looked, in the darkness, like some vast crowded city, the camp-fires and tent-lanterns simulating the vistas of gas-light, as London looks from Primrose Hill or Naples from the hights [sic] of Posilipo after nightfall. Indeed, I could not dispel the illusion even after I had alighted from the saddle, and I dropped to sleep wearied enough and glad to accept a pallet in a tent, with the idea that the light of morning would reveal a great metropolis with its domes and steeples, and interminable ramifications of streets as far as eye could reach.
When morning came and reveille had sounded, the scene presented was anything but metropolitan, although quite as striking as that of the finest city in the old or new world. The sun, which your correspondent ordinarily permits to rise before him, was streaming over a wide expanse of country as he looked forth from the East, and bringing out in their full effect the gorgeous lines of autumn, as painted by the frost upon forests near at hand and wooded mountains in the distance. Dotting the magnificent landscape everywhere were the white tents of the army of the Potomac. A soft haze hung like a gauzy vail [sic] over all, and straight upward into the still, frosty air rose the blue wreaths of smoke from a hundred log-fires. Along the nearest road, stretching for a mile and a half in full sight toward the Stone Bridge, the road made memorable by the rout of the 21st of July, files of wagons and ambulances were coming slowly toward the village. The remote outline of the Blue Ridge, rendered just a little indistinct by the hazy atmosphere, gave a background to the picture that harmonized with its general character, which was that of quiet rural beauty. Never was a picture of war so peaceful—never was a region which seemed like a dream of peace so full of warlike images and suggestions. . . .
A most impressive and inspiring spectacle was witnessed here this afternoon in the presentation of flags to the Virginia regiments in the army of the Potomac. About 3 o'clock the several brigades, composing the Virginia forces under Gen. Johnston, began to move toward the spot chosen for the ceremony. The air was balmy, the sky a tender blue, the sunshine just that rich golden flood which, like the imagination of the poet, converts all it rests upon into splendor. Over the gently rising hills came the compact columns, with the precision of veterans, their bayonets throwing off diamond points of light, their bands filling the air with inspiring music. The Governor of Virginia attended by Col. Geo. W. Munsford, the Secretary of the State government, Col. J. M. Bennett, the first Auditor, and others, was present to deliver the flags, and around him, upon the parapet of one of the fortifications, were gathered all the distinguished leaders of our army, whose names are on the lips of the whole country—Johnston, Beauregard, G. W. Smith, Van Dorn, Kirby Smith, Stuart, Elzey—here was a brilliant assemblage of generals, and with them were the gentlemen in the staff of each, fine looking young fellows, among whom was the Prince de Polignac, the volunteer aid of Beauregard. When the regiments had all been drawn up within hearing, the Governor advanced to the edge of the parapet and addressed them in a few remarks full of force and feeling. He thanked them in the name of the Commonwealth for the steady courage with which they had sustained the ancient fame of Virginia on the bloody fields of Bull's Run and Manassas. Turning then to the colonels of the regiments, fourteen in number, who stood at his side, he gave into the hands of each a flag, with the injunction to preserve it from dishonor, varying the expression in each instance with a happy reference to the portion of the State which the officer represented. The responses of the colonels were pithy and cordial. That of Col. Corse, commanding the 17th Virginia regiment, from Alexandria, was especially affecting.
"I give you this battle flag," said the Governor to him, "go and redeem your city."
I cannot presume to report his reply, spoken as it was, in a voice faltering with emotion, and every word eloquent with the "abundance of the heart." Suffice it to say that the gallant colonel promised, with the help of heaven in a righteous cause, and supported by the brave 17th, to plant the ensign of Virginia yet upon the hights [sic] of Alexandria. There were old men on that parapet whose eyes were moist as this pledge was given, nor was the impression weakened when regiment after regiment came forward to salute its colors and marched away with them in the purple sunset. The whole scene was one to dwell in the memory of all who witnessed it.
To-morrow we are to have a grand review.
The facilities of mail detention are such between this point and all the world elsewhere that I know not when this letter will reach you, but I send it in the hope that it will not be devoid of interest when received.
Dixie.
MEMPHIS DAILY APPEAL [MEMPHIS, TN], November 10, 1861, p. 2, c. 5
Letter from Centerville.
[Special Correspondence of the Appeal.]
Centerville, Va., November 2, 1861.
A furious storm of wind and rain set in here last night about ten o'clock, and is now raging with unabated violence, sweeping across the country in sheets of water, and filling the road with the broken limbs of trees. A more cheerless spectacle than is presented from the window of the house which shelters your correspondent from the blast, could not be imagined. Fully one-half the tents are blown down in the encampments. The vidette, stationed a hundred yards up the road, paces up and down his wet, weary beat in the mud, the most moist and melancholy individual I have ever seen, except the sentry who keeps guard immediately in front of the house, it being the headquarters of a general of division. I look across the dreary fields through the dripping branches, and think of the poor, lonely pickets, four or five miles away, with some of whom I had a symposium last night while the first flurry of the tempest was shaking the canvas overhead, and the thickly falling drops were just beginning to ooze through and make things damp and unpleasant. Alas! poor soldiers, where be your gibes now, your flashes of merriment, your songs of the ride and the bivouac? And then I turn from the window, as ennuye as Tenneyson's Miss Mariana in the moated grange, and look around for something to amuse me withal in the house itself. Ha! there is a library in a corner secretary. I examine it. By their books ye shall know them. Family evidently most excellent and pious people, but such people do not always collect the most entertaining volumes for a rainy day. The Southern Methodist Pulpit, with portraits in steel engraving of many eminent and eloquent divines—Life of Bascom—Life of Summerfield—no one respects the followers of Wesley more highly than "Dixie," but these books are not to his unregenerate taste on this dismal occasion. Reading clearly, will not answer. Shall we inspect the works of art on the walls? Here are family pictures, very long, after Vandyke, to critise which would be an impertinence, and yonder is a pale Beatrice Cenci, shad of Guido! in a green dress; think of the Cenci in a green barege!! and over there is a French print of Holyrood palace, Edinburg—all f which must have greatly amazed the connoisseurs and newspaper reporters and members of the Yankee Congress, and northern belles who sojourned in this house on the 20th and 21st of July, while the cannonade was sounding beyond the Stone Bridge, and the dense cloud of smoke and dust was rising in the distance. For the owner of the mansion tells me he was honored by the calls of these miscellaneous followers of McDowell's grand army, bringing with them their hampers of provisions and baskets of champagne, and he says moreover that the last of them was glad enough to run off in pretty much such a storm on the 22d of July as is now howling out of doors. As so I get back to the rain and wind again, the sold consoling reflection connected with which is that it will most probably strand some of the ships of Lincoln's armada, and the sole resource against which in the house, is in scribbling you this letter.
Two days ago we had a fine review of Gov. Letcher, of the Virginia forces in the army of the Potomac, in the morning of four regiments of cavalry under Gen. Stuart, in the afternoon of fourteen regiments of infantry under Gen. T. J. Jackson. The day was superb and the show most brilliant. Three excellent military bands accompanied each a separate brigade, and there were four batteries of artillery. The troops bore their new regimental colors and seemed proud of them, and their whole bearing gave promise that they would behave as gallantly in the next engagement as they did at Blackburn's Ford and on Manassas Plains.
I went yesterday to the battlefield, and spent three hours in riding over it with a large party, in which were several officers who were actively engaged in the conflict. One of them was an aid of Gen. Beauregard and had in his pocket a copy of his official report, which he read to us as we proceeded from point to point, thus unfolding the whole progress of the fight in the clearest manner. There is nothing new to be said or written of Manassas, nor could I hope to interest your readers with any description of the field as it now appears. The Henry House bears all the marks of the terrible havoc that was made around it; the hides and skeletons of the horses still mark the exact spots where the Sherman and Ricketts' batteries were taken; the trees are scarred with the shot and shell which were poured into them; on every hand are graves which attest the carnival of death held there; but despite all these evidences of carnage and the little monument erected where the gallant Bartow fell I could not realize, standing on that deserted plain, in the mild Indian summer morning, that North and South were at deadly war and that here had been fought from dawn till sunset one of the bloodiest battles in modern history. I listened with so much attention to the official report as read aloud by the intelligent colonel, that I dare say I might write out from memory a pretty fair synopsis of it, but this would be an unwarrantable liberty. The report is not to be published till the war is over, and anything that may appear purporting to be its substance will be without authority.
Heavy firing in the direction of Evansport was distinctly heard here yesterday, but if an engagement has begun there, the storm of today will arrest it. From officers who have entered the room since I commenced writing I hear that the belief gains ground hourly of an attack early next week. Nous verrons.
Dixie.
Vicki Betts
vbetts@gower.net