FootNote
The new kid on the block, FootNote is known for digitizing historical
documents... many of which are genealogical gems. With naturalizations,
city directories, war records, newspapers, town records, etc... this new
kid is quickly being recognized as an alternative to Ancestry.
While we know our northern friends may not feel it, in the South, Spring is
here. So we thought we'd share a few of our gardening sites appropriate
for this time of the year. Along with gardening, there's grilling, and getting
ready to diet so that you can fit back into that bathing suit this summer!
The fiendish and heartless
conduct of a large number of the people of
the South towards Union men during the war,
and especially the unlady like demeanor of
rebel women at New Orleans and other points,
is a matter that has passed into history. In
few places were the women more abusive to
those of Union proclivities than the female
portion of the inhabitants of Greenville,
Alabama. While passing through this town, on
her return from Andersonville to New
Orleans, Clotelle had to encounter the
fierce ill treatment of these chivalrous
daughters of the South. There were, during
the rebellion, many brave and generous
women, who, in the mountains and lowlands of
Alabama, gave aid to Federals, soldiers and
civilians, in their wanderings and escape
from the cruelties of the traitors. One of
these patriotic women was arrested while on
a visit to Greenville for the purpose of
procuring medicine and other necessaries for
sick Union men then hid away in the woods.
This large hearted woman Eunice Hastings had
her horse taken from her, robbed of the
goods she had purchased, and, after
experiencing almost death at the hands of
the rebel women, was released and turned out
penniless, and without the means of reaching
her home in the country; when Clotelle, who
had just arrived at the dilapidated and
poorly kept hotel, met her, and, learning
the particulars of her case, offered
assistance to the injured woman, which
brought down upon her own head the
condemnation of the secesh population of the
place. However, Clotelle purchased a fine
horse from the landlord, gave it to Miss
Hastings, who, after securing some articles
for which she had come to Greenville, left
town under cover of night, and escaped
further molestation. This act of kindness to
a helpless sister at once stirred up the
vilest feelings of the people.
"The worst of slaves is he whom passion
rules."
As has already been said, there was nothing
in the appearance of Clotelle to indicate
that a drop of African blood coursed through
her veins, except, perhaps, the slight wave
in the hair, and the scarcely perceptible
brunettish tinge upon the countenance. She
passed as a rebel lady; yet the inhabitants
of Greenville could not permit sympathy
with, and aid to, a Union woman to pass
unnoticed, and therefore resolved on
revenge.
"Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere
long, back on itself recoils."
Clotelle's person, trunks, and letters were
all searched with the hope and expectation
of finding evidences of a spy. Nothing of
the kind being found, she was then
rigorously interrogated as to her sympathies
with the two contending armies. With no wish
whatever to conceal her opinions, she openly
avowed that she was a Union woman. This was
enough. After being persecuted during the
day, she was put in charge of a committee of
rebel women for the night, with a promise of
more violent treatment on the morrow. The
loyalty of the Negroes of the South, during
the severest hours of the rebellion,
reflects the greatest possible credit on the
race. Through their assistance, hundreds of
Union men were enabled to make their escape
from prisons, and thousands kept from
starvation when on their way to the Federal
lines, or while keeping out of the way of
rebel recruiting gangs. They seldom, if
ever, hesitated to do the white Unionists a
service, at the risk even of life, and,
under the most trying circumstances,
revealed a devotion and a spirit of self
sacrifice that were heroic. No one ever made
an appeal to them they did not answer. They
were degraded and ignorant, which was
attributable to the cruel laws and equally
unchristian practices of the people of the
South; but their hearts were always open,
and the slightest demand upon their
sympathies brought forth their tears. They
never shunned a man or woman who sought food
or shelter on their way to freedom. The
goodness of heart and the guileless spirit
of the blacks was not better understood by
any one than Clotelle; and she felt a secret
joy at seeing all the servants in the
Greenville hotel Negroes. She saw from their
very looks that she had their undivided
sympathies. One of the servants overheard
the rebels in a conversation, in which it
was determined to send Clotelle to the
county town, for safe keeping in the jail,
the following day; and this fact was
communicated to the unfortunate woman. The
slave woman who gave the information told
her that she could escape if she desired.
Having already been robbed of every thing
except the apparel upon her person and some
money she had concealed about her, she at
once signified to the black woman her wish
to get out of the reach of her persecutors.
The old worn out clock in the narrow dining
hall had struck one; a cold rain was patting
upon the roof, and the women watchers, one
after another, had fallen asleep; and even
the snuff dippers, whose dirty practice
creates a nervousness that keeps them awake
longer than any other class, had yielded to
the demands of Morpheus, when Aggy, the
colored servant, stealthily entered the
room, beckoned to Clotelle, and both left in
silence.
Cautiously and softly the black woman led
the way, followed by the "Angel of Mercy,"
till, after passing down through the cellar
with the water covering the floor, they
emerged into the back yard. Two horses had
been provided. Clotelle mounted one, and a
black man the other; the latter leading the
way. Both dashed off at a rapid pace,
through a drenching storm, with such a pall
like darkness that they could not see each
other. After an hour's ride the Negro
halted, and informed Clotelle that he must
leave her, and return with the horses, but
that she was with friends. He then gave a
whistle, and for a moment held his breath.
Just as the faithful black was about to
repeat the signal, he heard the response;
and in a moment the lady alighted, and with
dripping garments, limbs chilled to
numbness, followed her new guide to a place
of concealment, near the village of
Taitsville.
"You is jes as wet as a drownded rat," said
the mulatto woman, who met Clotelle as she
entered the Negro's cabin.
"Yes," replied the latter, "this is a stormy
night for one to be out."
"Yes mam, dese is hard times for eberybody
dat 'bleves in de Union. I 'spose deys
cotched your husband, an' put him in de
army, ain't dey?"
"No: my husband died at Port Hudson,
fighting for the Union," said Clotelle.
"Oh, mam, dats de place whar de black people
fight de rebels so, wasn't it?" remarked
Dinah, for such was her name.
"Yes, that was the place," replied the
former. "I see that your husband has lost
one of his hands: did he lose it in the
war?"
"Oh no, missus," said Dinah. "When dey was
taken all de men, black an white, to put in
de army, dey cotched my ole man too, and
took him long wid 'em. So you see, he said
he'd die afore he'd shoot at de Yanks. So
you see, missus, Jimmy jes took and lay his
left han' on a log, and chop it off wid de
hatchet. Den, you see, dey let him go, an'
he come home. You see, missus, my Jimmy is a
free man: he was born free, an' he bought
me, an' pay fifteen hundred dollars for me."
It was true that Jim had purchased his wife;
nor had he forgotten the fact, as was shown
a day or two after, while in conversation
with her. The woman, like many of her sex,
was an inveterate scold, and Jim had but one
way to govern her tongue. "Shet your mouf,
madam, an' hole your tongue," said Jim,
after his wife had scolded and sputtered
away for some minutes. "Shet your mouf dis
minit, I say: you shan't stan' dar, an' talk
ter me in dat way. I bought you, an' paid my
money fer you, an" I ain't a gwine ter let
you sase me in dat way. Shet your mouf dis
minit: ef you don't I'll sell you; 'fore God
I will. Shet up, I say, or I'll sell you."
This had the desired effect, and settled
Dinah for the day.
After a week spent in this place of
concealment, Jim conveyed Clotelle to
Leaksville, Mississippi, through the Federal
lines, and from thence she proceeded to New
Orleans.
The Rebellion was now drawing to a close.
The valley of the Mississippi was in full
possession of the Federal government.
Sherman was on his raid, and Grant was
hemming in Lee. Everywhere the condition of
the freedmen attracted the attention of the
friends of humanity, and no one felt more
keenly their wants than Clotelle; and to
their education and welfare she resolved to
devote the remainder of her life, and for
this purpose went to the State of
Mississippi, and opened a school for the
freedmen; hired teachers, paying them out of
her own purse. In the summer of 1866, the
Poplar Farm, on which she had once lived as
a slave, was confiscated and sold by
Government authority, and was purchased by
Clotelle, upon which she established a
Freedmen's School, and where at this
writing, now June, 1867, resides the "Angel
of Mercy."
Clotelle or The Colored Heroine, A tale
of the Southern States
