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Page 24
It requires no prophet's ken to foresee that the Confederate
authorities have commenced a system which will utterly demoralize
all engaged in it; destroy the peace, and endanger the safety of
non-combatants, and eventually reduce to ruin and anarchy the whole
community over which these bands of robbers have their range.
This process has already commenced, and if the loyal troops were
withdrawn to-day from all Secessia, and the South allowed its
independence, the people would find themselves in the hands of
bandits to harass and plunder for months to come, and would have
long scores of wrongs to right, which have been inflicted upon
neutrals and friends of the Rebellion by its professed soldiers.
Should the contest continue for two or three years longer, the South
bids fair to lapse into the semi-barbarism of Mexico, or the
robber-ruled anarchy of Spain after the Peninsular war. The
legitimate tendency of the system is understood by the Southern
generals, and some of them resisted its introduction; but the
desperation of the whole Southern mind swept away opposition, and
they are now embarked on a stormy sea, which will assuredly wreck
the craft, if it be not sooner sunk by loyal broadsides.
How the government should treat these free-booters when captured, as
some of them have been, is plain, if the usual laws of war are to be
followed; they are to be punished as outlaws, and hung or shot. But,
in this case, can it be done safely? There were, when I left
Secessia, not less than 10,000 men organized as guerrillas. There
may be far more at this writing. Is it possible to treat such a
number as banditti, without inaugurating a more bloody retaliation
and massacre than the world has ever seen? I only raise the
question.
Morgan, as a citizen in times of peace, maintained the reputation of
a generous, genial, jolly, horse-loving, and horse-racing
Kentuckian. He went into the Rebellion _con amore_, and pursues it
with high enjoyment. He is about thirty-five years of age, six feet
in hight, well made for strength and agility, and is perfectly
master of himself; has a light complexion, sandy hair, and generally
wears a mustache, and a little beard on his chin. His eyes are keen,
bluish gray in color, and when at rest, have a sleepy look, but he
sees every one and every thing around him, although apparently
unobservant. He is an admirable horseman, and a good shot. As a
leader of a battalion of cavalry, he has no superior in the Rebel
ranks. His command of his men is supreme. While they admire his
generosity and manliness, sharing with them all the hardships of the
field, they fear his more than Napoleonic severity for any departure
from enjoined duty. His men narrate of him this--that upon one
occasion, when engaging in a battle, he directed one of his troopers
to perform a hazardous mission in the face of the enemy. The man did
not move. Morgan asked, in short quick words,
"Do you understand my orders?"
"Yes, captain, but I can not obey."
"Then, good-by," said Morgan, and in a moment the cavalryman fell
dead from his saddle. Turning to his men, he added, "Such be the
fate of every man disobeying orders in the face of an enemy."
No man ever hesitated after that to obey any command.
But Morgan is not without generosity to a foe. A Federal cavalryman
related to me, since my escape, an unusual act for an enemy. Losing
the command of his wounded horse, which goaded by pain plunged
wildly on, he was borne into the midst of Morgan's force. "Don't
shoot him!" cried Morgan to a dozen of his men who raised their
pistols. "Give him a chance for his life." The pistols were lowered
and the man sent back to his own lines unharmed. Few men have
appeared on either side in this contest who combine dash and
caution, intrepidity and calmness, boldness of plan with
self-possession in execution, as does Morgan. The feat reported of
him in Nashville, shortly after the Rebel army retreated through
it, illustrates this. Coming into the city full of Federal soldiers
in the garb of a farmer with a load of meal, he generously gives it
to the commissary department, saying, in an undertone, that there
are some Union men out where he lives, but they have to be careful
to dodge the Rebel cavalry, and he wishes to show his love for the
cause by this little donation. Going to the St. Cloud to dine, he
sits at the same table with General McCook, since cruelly murdered,
and is pointed out to the Federal officer as the Union man who had
made the generous gift. He is persuaded to take the value of it in
gold, and then, in a private interview, tells the Federal officer
that a band of Morgan's cavalry is camping near him, and if one or
two hundred cavalry will come down there to-morrow he will show them
how to take Morgan. The cavalry go, and _are taken_ by Morgan. So
the story goes. An equally successful feat it was, to step into the
telegraph office in Gallatin, Tennessee, at a later date, as he did,
dressed as a Federal officer, and there learn from the operator the
time when the down-train would be in, and arrest it, securing many
thousands of dollars without loss of men or time. Another anecdote
of his cool daring and recklessness is this. Riding up to a picket
post near Nashville, dressed in full Federal uniform, he sharply
reproved the sentinel on duty for not calling out the guard to
salute the officer of the day, as he announced himself to be. The
sentinel stammered out, as an excuse, that he did not know him to be
the officer of the day. Morgan ordered him to give up his arms,
because of this breach of duty, and the man obeyed. He then called
out the remaining six men of the guard, including the lieutenant who
was in charge, and put them under arrest, ordering them to pile
their arms, which they did. He then marched them down the road a
short distance where his own men were concealed, and secured all of
them, and their arms and horses, without resistance.
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