Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Thursday, May 7, 1863

We started again at 1.30 A.M. in a smaller coach, but luckily with reduced numbers, viz. — the Louisianian Judge (who is also a legislator), a Mississippi planter, the boatswain, the Government agent, and a Captain Williams, of the Texas Rangers.

 

Before the day broke we reached a bridge over a stream called Mud Creek, which was in such a dilapidated condition that all hands had to get out and cover over the biggest holes with planks. The Government agent informed us that he still held a commission as adjutant-general to ——. The latter, it appears, is a cross between a guerilla and a horse thief, and, even by his adjutant-general's account, he seems to be an equal adept at both professions. The accounts of his forays in Arkansas were highly amusing, but rather strongly seasoned for a legitimate soldier.

 

The Judge was a very gentlemanlike nice old man. Both he and the adjutant-general were much knocked up by the journey; but I revived the former with the last of the Immortality rum. The latter was in very weak health, and doesn't expect to live long; but he ardently hoped to destroy a few more bluebellies”* before he “goes under.”

 

The Mississippi planter had abandoned his estate near Vicksburg, and withdrawn with the remnant of his slaves into Texas. The Judge also had lost all his property in New Orleans. In fact, every other man one meets has been more or less ruined since the war, but all speak of their losses with the greatest equanimity.

 

Captain Williams was a tall, cadaverous backwoodsman, who had lost his health in the war. He spoke of the Federal general, Rosecrans, with great respect, and he passed the following high encomium upon the North-Western troops, under Rosecrans's command —

 

“They're reglar great big h—llsnorters, the same breed as ourselves. They don't want no running after, — they don't. They ain't no Dutch cavalry^† — you bet!”

 

To my surprise all the party were willing to agree that a few years ago most educated men in the south regarded slavery as a misfortune and not justifiable, though necessary under the circumstances. But the meddling, coercive conduct of the detested and despised abolitionists had caused the bonds to be drawn much tighter.

 

My fellow-travellers of all classes are much given to talk to me about their “peculiar institution,” and they are most anxious that I should see as much of it as possible, in order that I may be convinced that it is not so bad as has been represented, and that they are not all “Legrees,” although they do not attempt to deny that there are many instances of cruelty. But they say a man who is known to illtreat his negroes is hated by all the rest of the community. They declare that Yankees make the worst masters when they settle in the South; and all seem to be perfectly aware that slavery, which they did not invent, but which they inherited from us (English), is and always will be the great bar to the sympathy of the civilised world. I have heard these words used over and over again.

 

All the villages through which we passed were deserted except by women and very old men; their aspect was most melancholy. The country is sandy and the land not fertile, but the timber is fine.

 

We met several planters on the road, who with their families and negroes were taking refuge in Texas, after having abandoned their plantations in Louisiana on the approach of Banks. One of them had as many as sixty slaves with him of all ages and sizes.

 

At 7 P.M. we received an unwelcome addition to our party, in the shape of three huge, long-legged, unwashed, odoriferous Texan soldiers, and we passed a wretched night in consequence. The Texans are certainly not prone to take offence where they see none is intended; for when this irruption took place, I couldn't help remarking to the Judge with regard to the most obnoxious man who was occupying the centre seat to our mutual discomfort, — “I say, Judge, this gentleman has got the longest legs I ever saw.” “Has he?” replied the Judge; “and he has got the d----dest, longest, hardest back I ever felt.” The Texan was highly amused by these remarks upon his personal appearance, and apologised for his peculiarities.

 

Crossed the Sabine river at 11.30 P.M.

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* The Union soldiers are called “bluebellies” on account of their blue uniforms. These often call the Confederates “greybacks."

 

^† German dragoons, much despised by the Texans on account of their style of riding.

 

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 77-80

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: April 2, 1863

The Texan and I left the Immortality in her cutter, at 10 A.M., and crossed the bar in fine style. The cutter was steered by Mr Johnston, the master, and having a fair wind, we passed in like a flash of lightning, and landed at the miserable village of Bagdad, on the Mexican bank of the Rio Grande.

The bar was luckily in capital order — 3½ feet of water, and smooth. It is often impassable for ten or twelve days together: the depth of water varying from 2 to 5 feet. It is very dangerous, from the heavy surf and under-current; sharks also abound. Boats are frequently capsized in crossing it, and the Orlando lost a man on it about a month ago.

Seventy vessels are constantly at anchor outside the bar; their cotton cargoes being brought to them, with very great delays, by two small steamers from Bagdad. These steamers draw only 3 feet of water, and realise an enormous profit.

Bagdad consists of a few miserable wooden shanties, which have sprung into existence since the war began. For an immense distance endless bales of cotton are to be seen.

Immediately we landed, M’Carthy was greeted by his brother merchants. He introduced me to Mr Ituria, a Mexican, who promised to take me in his buggy to Brownsville, on the Texan bank of the river opposite Matamoros. M'Carthy was to follow in the evening to Matamoros.

The Rio Grande is very tortuous and shallow; the distance by river to Matamoros is sixty-five miles, and it is navigated by steamers, which sometimes perform the trip in twelve hours, but more often take twenty-four, so constantly do they get aground .

The distance from Bagdad to Matamoros by land is thirty-five miles; on the Texan side to Brownsville, twenty-six miles.

I crossed the river from Bagdad with Mr Ituria, at 11 o'clock; and as I had no pass, I was taken before half-a-dozen Confederate officers, who were seated round a fire contemplating a tin of potatoes. These officers belonged to Duff's cavalry (Duff being my Texan's partner). Their dress consisted simply of flannel shirts, very ancient trousers, jack-boots with enormous spurs, and black felt hats, ornamented with the “lone star of Texas.” They looked rough and dirty, but were extremely civil to me.

The captain was rather a boaster, and kept on remarking, “We've given ’em h-ll on the Mississippi, h-ll on the Sabine” (pronounced Sabeen), “and h-ll in various other places.”

He explained to me that he couldn't cross the river to see M’Carthy, as he with some of his men had made a raid over there three weeks ago, and carried away some “renegadoes,” one of whom, named Mongomery, they had left on the road to Brownsville; by the smiles of the other officers I could easily guess that something very disagreeable must have happened to Mongomery. He introduced me to a skipper who had just run his schooner, laden with cotton, from Galveston, and who was much elated in consequence. The cotton had cost 6 cents a pound in Galveston, and is worth 36 here.

Mr Ituria and I left for Brownsville at noon. A buggy is a light gig on four high wheels.

The road is a natural one — the country quite flat, and much covered with mosquite trees, very like pepper trees. Every person we met carried a six-shooter, although it is very seldom necessary to use them.

After we had proceeded about nine miles we met General Bee, who commands the troops at Brownsville. He was travelling to Boca del Rio in an ambulance,* with his Quartermaster-General, Major Russell. I gave him my letter of introduction to General Magruder, and told him who I was.

He thereupon descended from his ambulance and regaled me with beef and beer in the open. He is brother to the General Bee who was killed at Manassas. We talked politics and fraternised very amicably for more than an hour. He said the Mongomery affair was against his sanction, and he was sorry for it. He said that Davis, another renegado, would also have been put to death, had it not been for the intercession of his wife. General Bee had restored Davis to the Mexicans.

Half an hour after parting company with General Bee, we came to the spot where Mongomery had been left; and sure enough, about two hundred yards to the left of the road, we found him.

He had been slightly buried, but his head and arms were above the ground, his arms tied together, the rope still round his neck, but part of it still dangling from quite a small mosquite tree. Dogs or wolves had probably scraped the earth from the body, and there was no flesh on the bones. I obtained this my first experience of Lynch law within three hours of landing in America.

I understand that this Mongomery was a man of very bad character, and that, confiding in the neutrality of the Mexican soil, he was in the habit of calling the Confederates all sorts of insulting epithets from the Bagdad bank of the river; and a party of his “renegades” had also crossed over and killed some unarmed cotton teamsters, which had roused the fury of the Confederates.

About three miles beyond this we came to Colonel Duff's encampment. He is a fine-looking, handsome Scotchman, and received me with much hospitality. His regiment consisted of newly-raised volunteers— a very fine body of young men, who were drilling in squads. They were dressed in every variety of costume, many of them without coats, but all wore the high black felt hat. Notwithstanding the peculiarity of their attire, there was nothing ridiculous or contemptible in the appearance of these men, who all looked thoroughly like “business.” Colonel Duff told me that many of the privates owned vast tracts of country, with above a hundred slaves, and were extremely well off. They were all most civil to me.

Their horses were rather rawboned animals, but hardy and fast. The saddles they used were nearly like the Mexican.

Colonel Duff confessed that the Mongomery affair was wrong, but he added that his boys “meant well”

We reached Brownsville at 5.30 P.M., and Mr Ituria kindly insisted on my sleeping at his house, instead of going to the crowded hotel.

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* An ambulance is a light waggon, and generally has two springs behind, and one transverse one in front. The seats can be so arranged that two or even three persons may lie at full length.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three months in the southern states: April-June, 1863, p. 2-7