Part 1

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DEAR SIR:--

In the Summer of 1903, two friends of Major Huse were hospitably entertained by him at his charming home, "The Rocks," on the Hudson, just south of West Point, and, during their visit, were greatly interested in listening to his recital of some of his experiences as agent in Europe for purchasing army supplies for the Confederate States during the Civil war.

I was so impressed by this unique bit of history that I succeeded, after much urging, in inducing him to write it, believing that it should be preserved, and knowing that no one else could furnish it.

His four years' experience would, if fully told, fill a large volume, but this brief recital is all that can be hoped for.

I am sending you herewith a copy of this pamphlet. If you wish to keep it, please send 25 cents in enclosed coin card. If you do not want it, please return it flat by pasting the enclosed stamped and addressed envelope on the enclosing envelope.

Yours truly,

J. S. ROGERS.

Room 118, Barristers Hall, 15 Pemberton Square, Boston, Mass.

THE SUPPLIES

FOR THE

CONFEDERATE ARMY

HOW THEY WERE OBTAINED IN EUROPE AND HOW PAID FOR

PERSONAL REMINISCENCES AND UNPUBLISHED HISTORY

BY

CALEB HUSE

MAJOR AND PURCHASING AGENT, C. S. A.

BOSTON

PRESS OF T. R. MARVIN & SON

1904

BY JAMES S. ROGERS

BOSTON, MASS.

In the Summer of 1903, two friends of Major Huse were hospitably entertained by him at his charming home, "The Rocks," on the Hudson, just south of West Point, and, during their visit, were greatly interested in listening to his recital of some of his experiences as agent in Europe for purchasing army supplies for the Confederate States during the Civil war.

So impressed were they by this unique bit of history that they succeeded, after much urging, in inducing him to write it, believing that it should be preserved, and knowing that no one else could furnish it.

His four years' experience would, if fully told, fill a large volume, but this brief recital is all that can be hoped for.

If the cost of publication is not met by the nominal price charged for this pamphlet, the satisfaction of preserving the record in print will compensate for any loss sustained by the

TWO FRIENDS.

_August, 1904._

REMINISCENCES

On my return in May, 1860, from a six months' leave of absence spent in Europe, I found an appointment as professor of chemistry and commandant of cadets in the University of Alabama awaiting my acceptance. During my absence the President of the University and a committee of the Board of Trustees visited West Point and the Virginia Military Institute and, pleased with the discipline of both institutions, decided to adopt the military system, and applied to Colonel Delafield, then the Superintendent at West Point, for an officer to start them. Col. Delafield gave them my name but was unable to say whether or not I would resign from the army. I was then a first lieutenant of artillery; and, as such, was on the rolls of the garrison of Fort Sumter.

I accepted the position and began my duties in September. My leave of absence had expired in May; but the authorities of the University, fearing that I might regret severing irrevocably my connection with the army--which I had entered as a cadet at sixteen--obtained from the Secretary of War an extension of the leave till May, 1861, when I was to resign if all was satisfactory at that time.

It is proper to mention here that the introduction of military drill and discipline at the State University had no connection whatever with any secession movement in Alabama, and the fact that a Massachusetts-born man and of Puritan descent was selected to inaugurate the system, will, or ought to be, accepted as confirmatory of this assertion.

Discipline was almost at an end at the University, and in seeking ways and means for restoring it, the attention of the Faculty and Trustees was directed to the Virginia Military Institute which had been in successful operation for about fifty years. As this institution had been organized by a graduate of West Point, and in some respects resembled the United States Military Academy, it was hoped that in Alabama good results might be secured by the adoption of similar methods.

Military drill is taught at the present time in many schools and colleges, but the intention of the Alabama University authorities was not merely to drill students, but to hold them under military restraint, as is effectually done at West Point, and, I may add, as cannot be done in any college designed to qualify young men to become civilian members of a great republic.

West Point and Annapolis have proved themselves noble institutions for the purpose for which they were designed--that of training young men to become officers over other men--but the mission of these schools is not to fit young men for civil life. Their methods cannot be grafted upon literary or technical civil institutions, and it is not desirable that they should be applied to civil colleges or schools of any kind. But the University of Alabama was a military college so far as concerned discipline, and to this end I was given a Colonel's commission by the Governor of the State, with two assistants, one a major, the other a captain. Tents, arms and infantry equipments were purchased of the United States Government, and a uniform similar to that of the West Point cadets was adopted. The students were assembled on the first of September, and a camp established on the University grounds. Drills were inaugurated at once and regular camp duties were required and performed.

Everything seemed to be progressing very satisfactorily till one day, some three weeks after the pitching of the camp, the President of the University (Dr. Garland) desired to see me at his office. On entering I found him and a trusted professor awaiting my coming, with disturbed looks. No time was wasted in the preliminaries; Dr. Garland came to the point at once by telling me that there was a mutiny brewing in my camp which it would be impossible for me to quell. He then explained that the cadets were dissatisfied because I was a northern-born man; that they called me a d----d Yankee, and intended running me out of the State. He thought they would be successful, for the ringleaders were old students who had given a great deal of trouble before I came, and, what made the matter worse, these students were sons of influential men in the State, and the mothers of the mutineers were encouraging them.

I asked if any of the Trustees or the Faculty wished me to resign and was assured of the contrary. I then said that, but for one thing, I should have no hesitation in resigning. The cadets, backed by their families, had threatened to run me out of the State; I should put upon them the responsibility of executing their threat; I should not resign. I went back to camp and never heard anything more about the "mutiny."

I mention this incident only to show the feeling existing in an extreme southern State at that time--less than two months before the election of President Lincoln.

The story of the intended mutiny was well founded, and was only one phase of the general feeling of unrest throughout Alabama. But, even at that time, which was within six weeks of election day, the idea of secession did not prevail. Probably had its people been called upon to vote on the question, there would have been a very large majority against secession. After the election in November the unrest manifestly increased, and conservative men began to consider secession possible and even probable.

At the University there was no excitement. Instruction went on as usual and the era of orderly deportment, begun in camp, continued, much to the satisfaction of every one and especially to the citizens of Tuscaloosa. But military discipline, to which, as admitted by every one, the improved deportment was due, added to the outgo of the University without materially increasing its income, and the only hope of obtaining money to meet the increased expenses was through an appropriation by the Legislature. To secure this, President Garland proposed that the battalion of Cadets--for so the students were called--should go to Montgomery and be reviewed by the Governor and by the Legislature, which was then in session.

This idea was strongly opposed not only by members of the Faculty but by men whose sons were in the University. The fear prevailed that the students would be unmanageable under the many temptations which Montgomery would afford, and that even the well-meant hospitality of the citizens, which was sure to be generous, would cause trouble. Whether to make the trip or not was left to my decision. I decided without hesitation in favor of the expedition, and arrangements were made for two steamboats, one to take us down the Black Warrior, the other for the journey up the Alabama to Montgomery.

In Mobile the cadets were cordially received, and conducted themselves to my entire satisfaction. On the steamboats their behavior was all that could be desired, and in Montgomery everybody was proud of their appearance and deportment. For sleeping accommodations the cadets carried their own blankets and turned in on the floor of a large hall. Camp discipline was maintained and perfect order prevailed.

The battalion was reviewed in front of the State House by the Governor and both Houses of the Legislature, and everything passed off most satisfactorily. In the evening, after the review, a committee of the Legislature called on me and asked what I wanted. The reply was: An annual appropriation so long as the military organization was maintained at the University.

I remember that a cousin of Senator John P. Hale of New Hampshire (one of the most pronounced abolitionists of the country) was a member of the committee. He said to me: "Now you come up to the House tomorrow and see how we will put this matter through." I did so, and certainly it was "put through," for, while I was there the bill was given all its readings--the rules being suspended for the purpose--and it was taken to the Senate and similarly rushed. The Governor signed it, and the next day the cadets started on their return home.

We had left Tuscaloosa in a heavy rain-storm, escorted to the steamboat--some two miles--by the Montgomery Guards. The trip had been entirely successful and there had not been a case of misbehavior from start to finish. Of course drinking was the one thing to be feared, and when one considers all the temptations on the steamboats and in Mobile and Montgomery, it is a little remarkable that there were no infractions of the rules, one of which was that no cadet should enter a bar-room on pain of instant dismissal.

As already stated, I went to the University of Alabama under leave of absence which was to terminate in May, 1861. In February I received an order revoking the unexpired portion of my leave and directing me to report for duty in Washington. I replied that my leave was granted with the understanding that I was to resign at its expiration, and as I saw no reason to alter my determination, I offered my resignation. There was no expectation on my part that my future would be any other than such as my position as professor in the University of Alabama would occasion.

My resignation was accepted February 25th. In April--I think it was April 1st--I received a telegram from the Confederate States Secretary of the Navy Mallory, to "come to Montgomery and take a commission for active service." I think I am quoting the words of the message. I started without delay, and on arriving in Montgomery was introduced to Secretary of War Walker, who soon said to me: "The President has designated you to go to Europe for the purchase of arms and military supplies; when can you go?" I replied that, of course, I could go immediately, but if any preparations were to be made which would require time, I should like to return to my family before starting. "Take ten days," said he. "Be back here at the end of that time." I was then introduced to Col. Gorgas, Chief of Ordnance, to whom I was to report.

I returned to Tuscaloosa and early in the morning of the tenth day of my leave of absence, I drove into Montgomery on the top of a stage-coach. When near the town we met a man on horseback who shouted that Beauregard had opened fire on Sumter. By this I know that it was April 12th. There was naturally much excitement in Montgomery, especially about the War and Navy Departments.

On reporting to Col. Gorgas, I found that no arrangements had been made for my going to Europe. I had no orders and did not know what I was to do for money. I called on the Secretary of the Treasury, Meminger, but he knew nothing about my going abroad. "When are you going?" said he. I replied that if I expected to get through the North, I had no time to lose; and it was finally arranged that he should provide me with money for my trip to New York, where I should receive funds for my journey to Europe. During my interview he remarked that he had no money; and it would appear that the statement was literally true, for it is difficult to conceive from what source, so soon after its organization, a new Government could derive any revenue.

Before leaving Montgomery, Mr. Davis called me to his office and asked me to be seated while he received his callers, saying he wanted to talk with me about my mission, and that ideas would come to him between his interviews with his callers. I took the chair assigned me, and while he was reading the pile of letters which lay open before him, the callers began to come in. I do not recall any of the conversation which took place, but I remember clearly one incident which some may say was characteristic of the man. Looking over a letter of four full-sized pages, and standing up with some show of irritation, he said, "I wish people would not write me advice," and he tore the letter in two; and, repeating the remark, tore it into small bits which he threw upon the floor. He mentioned the name of the writer, who, I knew, was a friend and neighbor.

I may be permitted to narrate a personal incident which occurred before I left Montgomery. One evening about sunset, while I was waiting in the office of the Secretary of War, for the comparatively insignificant sum of money to be provided for my expenses to England, Mr. Davis greeted me as Major. I replied: "I might ask, Mr. President, in what regiment," having in mind the well known anecdote of the subaltern who, on handing the Emperor Napoleon his chapeau which had fallen, was thanked under the title of captain. Mr. Davis then explained the principle he had laid down for himself in appointing officers who had been in the U. S. army. It was to advance no one more than one grade. He said that Beauregard was only a captain of engineers, and had been made a brigadier general; but in this, the rule had not been violated, for, by serving at West Point as superintendent although for a few days only--five, as shown by the records--he was a colonel in the army, and had, therefore, been advanced but one grade. Mr. Davis remarked that there were officers enough for all field purposes, but the trouble was to find men qualified to prepare the army for its work.

I had arranged to pass through Charleston in order that I might visit Sumter and see the effect of the artillery fire upon it. Arriving in Charleston in the evening I went to Morris Island the following morning, and from there in a row-boat to Sumter, accompanied by two young artillery captains. We were all young in those days; I was just thirty, and these young men were my juniors by some years. They had both been under my instruction as cadets at West Point when I was on duty there, but I cannot now recall their names. On our return from Sumter, we three lay on the warm sand near the shore, and naturally the conversation was chiefly on the events of the last few days. In the course of our talk, I remarked, "What in the world made Anderson surrender the fort?" For in my opinion it was no more damaged for defence than a brick wall would be by a boy's snapping marbles against it. As for anything the Confederate artillery could bring to bear upon it, it was literally impregnable--as shown by the fact that with all the resources of the United States army and navy it was never retaken. The wooden quarters had taken fire, and, for a time doubtless, the fort was a very uncomfortable place, and it was feared that the magazine would explode. But when Anderson surrendered all that danger had passed.

Major Anderson was a gallant officer who had proved his efficiency and bravery in the Mexican War, for which he was rewarded with two brevets; but for one who saw Sumter as I did, shortly after its surrender, when nothing had been changed since Anderson saluted his flag and marched his command on board the Confederate steamer Isabel, it is impossible to understand why the surrender should have been made when it was. Eventually his command might have been starved out. But although for several days it was short of some kinds of desirable food, and destitute of fresh provisions, there remained several barrels of pork which he took with him when he left. Not only was no assault ever made, but the enemy had no boats or scaling ladders with which to attempt an assault, as Anderson must have known.

If the United States Government deliberately intended to force a war and thus settle once for all the entire question between the North and the South, no strategy could have been more effectual than that of sacrificing Sumter exactly as it was sacrificed. The whole affair could not have been arranged with greater shrewdness and finesse. Anderson and his officers--without an exception, gallant and competent--were made to appear as heroes and, in a sense, they were; the North was completely _unified_, and the same can be said of the South. The lines were now distinctly and definitely drawn, and every man from Maine to Georgia must declare for the Government or against it. War began such as no man could have foretold and such as could not cease till one side or the other should be completely exhausted.

From Charleston I went to Baltimore by the Bay Line steamers from Norfolk, arriving on Sunday morning--the day that the men who had been killed the Friday previous were to be buried. The excitement was intense, but the city was quiet--uncomfortably quiet. No one knew what next to expect. I was for my own part, concerned only about getting to New York. There were no trains running, bridges having been burned, and no one could say when railway traffic would be resumed.

There were a few other travelers bound northward who were eager to continue their journey. Two of these--young men from Charleston--approached me cautiously with a proposal that we three should hire a carriage to take us to York, Pa., and we arranged to go. Before we were ready to start, an elderly gentleman asked to be permitted to join the party. He was a large, handsome man, and was anxious to get to Philadelphia as soon as possible, to see a daughter who lay at the point of death. The new comer would be a serious addition to the weight in our carriage, but I had reason to be thankful that we accommodated him, as will appear later.

After starting, it was determined--why I cannot now say--to go to Havre de Grace, instead of York. On our arrival in the evening, we found the ferry boat had been taken to convey troops to Annapolis, and there was nothing to be done but wait. We all found comfortable lodgings at a small hotel, and in the morning a flat boat took us across to Perryville.

Among the passengers were several men and women who, as soon as the boat landed, collected on the piazza of a little country hotel near the landing and began singing patriotic songs. They were apparently overjoyed at their escape from the south-land.

At Perryville there was a large wooden shed which served as a railway station; employees were standing about, but none could give any information concerning the trains, all of which, they said, had been taken by the Government. Before noon, however, a long train came thundering into the station, and immediately men in uniform poured out of the cars and ran to the water-side, where they bathed their faces and hands. They were going to the front. The same train was soon ready to return to Philadelphia and all who desired to go were accommodated.

It was impossible to get farther than Philadelphia that day. The next morning, on taking my seat in the train, I recognized the gentleman directly behind me as the Hon. Caleb Cushing. I did not accost him, not caring to meet acquaintances just then, and, moreover, I had no reason to think that he knew me, for although we were born in the same town,--Newburyport, Mass.,--he was a distinguished public man when I was a boy.

The route from Philadelphia to New York was by the way of Camden to South Amboy, and thence by steamboat. The latter was a ferry boat with room for teams on each side of the engine. There were no teams on board, and, as I had been sitting for some time, and now that we were nearing New York where I was likely at any moment to meet an acquaintance, I was a little nervous, I walked about the lower deck. In doing so I met Mr. Cushing face to face. He was passing the time in a similar manner. I lifted my cap, as I would to any superior officer, or public man. Immediately Mr. Cushing stopped and said:

"Good morning, Mr. Huse, you are with the South, I understand."

For the moment I was staggered, but quickly calling to mind that Mr. Cushing had been chairman of the Charleston Democratic Convention which nominated John C. Breckenridge for President, I replied:

"Yes, sir, what chance do you think the South has?"

"What chance can it have?" he said, "the money is all in the North; the manufactories are all in the North; the ships are all in the North; the arms and arsenals are all in the North; the arsenals of Europe are within ten days of New York, and they will be open to the United States Government, and closed to the South; and the Southern ports will be blockaded. What possible chance can the South have?" There was nothing for me to say in reply, and I probably did the best I could have done under the circumstances. Looking him squarely in the eye, I lifted my cap and said: "Good morning, Mr. Cushing." I never saw him afterwards.

On landing at the Battery, I gave my baggage checks to an expressman, taking his receipt and telling him to hold the baggage till called for. As it might be very important not to be recognized, I took the precaution to leave no trail by my baggage, which was taken to Liverpool later by one of the young men who had been my carriage companion from Baltimore. I went at once to the Bank of the Republic, where I was to find letters which would enable me to obtain money for my voyage.

I was told to call for Mr. S----, the cashier of the bank. On his coming to the window, I asked if he had any letters from Montgomery. His face immediately showed real fear. Opening a door near by, he said, "Come in," and I found myself in the bank parlor. He immediately locked the door, pulled down the window shades and then asked, "Now what is it?"

In the brief time occupied in drawing down the shades, etc., I determined what to do, and replied,--

"I see, Mr. S., that you are much agitated by my visit, and I will not further compromise you by giving you my name; but if you have any letters from Montgomery, which you do not recognize, will you be good enough to send them around to Trenholm Brothers, in Pine Street."