Thursday, April 23, 2015

Southern Charm from the Chamber Pot

   Resistance to what Southerners called the War of Northern Aggression took many forms. In addition to armed conflict, the citizens of the South stood ready to show their contempt for the Union army in ways that were almost as vexatious as drawn swords, especially down in New Orleans.
   By the summer of 1862, the Union Navy, under Admiral David G. Farragut, had made possible the occupation of New Orleans by General Benjamin F. Butler, who, in addition to holding the city, announced his determination to force its citizens to bend their knees to his occupying forces. Unfortunately for the general, that was easier said than done.
   While Union soldiers were apparently safe to walk the streets of New Orleans, their flag could not go unattended. On June 7, 1862, one fellow by the name of Mumford decided to haul down the stars and stripes and cut the flag of the United States up into lapel stickers. This was too much for the general. He ordered Munford executed.
   If Butler thought, however, that a hanging would elicit better manners from the Confederates, he was mistaken. Now it was the women's turn. The southern belles developed the habit of congregating on the hotel balconies dressed in all of their fineries. Whenever a Yankee soldier passed by, they would all whirl around and flirt out their skirts, causing one officer to comment that "Those women evidently know which end of them looks the best."
   The greatest insult to northern dignity, however, was yet to come. On one occasion Admiral Farragut himself, walking to a dinner engagement, passed beneath the balcony of a hotel. Suddenly he was drenched in a downpour from above. Several women had emptied the contents of the hotel's slop jars directly on the heads of the admiral and his party.
   Butler was livid and issued his famous General Order Number 28, which said that any female showing contempt for the United States shall be held liable to be treated as a woman of the night.
   Butler always claimed that General Order Number 28 put an end to such loathsome expressions of contempt, but it was also noted that while performing patrol duty, the Union soldiers did so from the middle of the streets. They no longer seemed willing to subject themselves to the possibility of a vengeance from above, which often reeked to high heaven.

From Bull Run to Appomattox

   The American Civil War was a watershed in our nation's history. It redefined the character of the United States and sent the population of the South reeling, especially people like Wilmer McClean, who always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
   Wilmer McClean was one of the more prosperous residents of Manassas Junction, Virginia, in July of 1861, when the Northern and Southern armies began to gather around his place. His 1,400-acre plantation straddled Bull Run, so the Confederates occupied his house and used it as its headquarters in this, the first real, full-fledged battle of the Civil War.
   After the first battle of Bull Run, McClean sold his farm and moved further west, out of the line of fire between the two contending armies. He assured his family that "the sounds of battle would never again reach them" in their new home.
   In the meantime, battle followed battle: Chancellorsville, Fredericksburg, Gettysburg, Vicksburg, and hundreds of others. For four years Billy Yank and Johnny Reb pounded each other, and as they did, they got closer and closer to Wilmer McClean 's new home.
   Finally in April, of 1865, Lee's Army of Northern Virginia and Grant's Army of the Potomac faced each other, and where do you think they were? Somehow the center of this horrific conflict, which began at his Bull Run farm four years earlier, had sought McClean out and found him once more. The Union and Rebel forces were camped once again, almost in his front yard.
   On April 9, 1865, General Robert E. Lee surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant, and since they were so close, the combatants took over McClean's home once again---to agree upon and sign the terms of the capitulation. When he left his home on Bull Run to find that safe haven from the ravages of war, McClean settled near Appomattox Courthouse, never dreaming that he was jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

Dying for the Stars and Bars

   Symbols---they can make one swell with pride, or wretch in disgust. Take that flap about flying the Confederate flag above the state house in South Carolina, for instance. That may have been the most recent fight over that symbol, but it won't be the last, and it certainly wasn't the first.
   The guns had barely quieted at Fort Sumter when President Lincoln ordered that Alexandria, Virginia, just across the Potomac, be taken from the Rebel hands. After all, there staring him in the face each morning was the Confederate flag flying atop the Marshall House, and he wanted it taken down.
   The soldier who was placed in charge of this detail was Colonel Elmer Ellsworth, one of the four soldiers who formed the president's body guard. Ellsworth's orders were simple. Take the town and remove that flag. the former was easy, but the latter had its price.
   Ellsworth's troops landed early in the morning of May 24, 1861. There was no resistance, so the Colonel marched directly to the Marshall House, where the offending bit of bunting waved in the breeze. Flanked by a quartet of soldiers, Ellsworth climbed to the second story of the hotel unmolested.
   From one of the top windows he clambered out onto the roof and cut the flag from its staff. With the emblem in hand, Ellsworth then made his way back to the stairs from which he intended to descend and make secure his occupation of Alexandria.
   He had no more than reached the top step when from out of the shadows lurched an enraged Rebel who would not stand for such an abominable sacrilege as the desecration of the Confederate flag. He raised a gun to Ellsworth's heart and fired, killing him instantly. Needless to say, the assassin was quickly dispatched as well.
   They brought Ellsworth to Washington where Lincoln mourned the fallen soldier, calling him the "greatest little man I ever met." In the meantime, the Confederate flag went back up on the Marshall House, but it flew in thousands of other places, and as recent events show, it still stirs the emotions of partisans, almost 140 years after that first forced removal of the stars and bars.