tmh10
Major
- Joined
- Mar 2, 2012
- Location
- Pipestem,WV
John Fee was a native Kentuckian, a minister, and an abolitionist. During the Civil War, while Fee was working in Cincinnati, his wife and children made a trip to their home in Kentucky near Perryville, which at the time was under Confederate control. This is a chronicle of a family's experience during the Battle of Perryville.
Ten weeks had elapsed since I had seen my wife and the two eldest children. These were weeks of commotion, anxiety and peril. As previously stated, when I started around by Cincinnati, my wife, with her two children, had started in her private carriage across the country for our inland home. The country at that time was full of soldiers, Union and Rebel. The first day she came as far as five miles south of Blue Licks, a noted "watering-place." The next day, after long delays, because of soldiery and government teams, she came to a country store and "tavern" -- eighteen miles from her home. The next morning, after securing a small supply of groceries for a destitute home in a destitute region, she started for home. On coming through Richmond, our county seat, the people, men and women, expressed surprise at seeing a woman driving along the highway. She had not proceeded more than three miles when she was halted by Union pickets, who at first suspected she might be a rebel spy, conveying news to Kirby Smith's men, who were already near to her home. Her frank manner, her commendation of "eternal vigilance as the price of liberty," her story of who she was and where she was going, together with the Union flag painted on her carriage, and manifestly, not recently, painted for effect, but of previous design -- all these considerations constrained the officer to say, "Let her go; she is all right." She came to her humble home, constructed a bedstead, filled a tick with straw, borrowed a blanket to sleep under, lay down with her two children and slept. The next day whilst out hunting up some simple cooking utensils which two years previously she had distributed among neighbors, rebel soldiers came into her house, took her borrowed blanket, her coarse and fine comb, her better shoes and Burritt's hat, and the carriage harness. The horse and carriage were hid in the woods. My daughter Laura had a very nice Union flag which her mother had made, and with this a set of silver spoons her grandfather had given to her; these she had hid up in the eaves-trough. These the rebels did not find; so the present loss of the little family was not great, and they could say with Col. Slack's slave, "Blessed be nothing; I has nothing to lose, and nothing to be sorry for."
Thousands of Kirby Smith's men were then encamped near by. With some other women my wife went to the encampment to see the complexion of the rebel soldiery. Whilst sitting with other women a rebel officer rode up, and addressing himself politely, inquired of my wife for her home, and then for the "politics" of the region. My wife said, "My home is near by; and, as for politics, we are for the Union, and believe slavery is wrong, and that the rebels are fighting for a lost cause." The officer inquired, "Madam, ain't you from the North?" She replied, "No, this is my home and my native State." Again he inquired in a tone derisive, "Madam, are you an Abolitionist?" She replied, "I am." "Well," said he, "I have seen some men who were Abolitionists, but I never before this saw a woman who was." My wife then asked, "Why are you here with the uniform of our men on you?" He had a Union belt on him with U.S. inverted. He replied, "Madam, don't you see that is S.U. -- Southern Union?" and rode off. Not long after this she heard the Cannon's roar at Perryville. Soon this was followed by the retreating rebel army with trains of wagons laden with plunder, and herds of lowing cattle famishing for the want of water.
Three rebel officers came up to her house and asked for food. My wife had some potatoes, meal, coarse flour and milk. She gave to them bread and milk, with baked potatoes. They received this kindly, and were very respectful. Soon after they were gone my wife learned that some rebel soldiers were in her potato patch, grabbing her potatoes.
A friend who had occupied the house for a time, left for her a small plat of ground planted with potatoes. Taking her son Burritt with her, she went for her potatoes. Something to live on then was an item of concern. She came to the fence and said, "Men, I have fed your officers, and now you are taking the last potato I have; this is no credit to you." One young fellow looked up pertly and said, "Madam, credit has gone up long ago." They filled their haversacks and went on.
Scenes of privation, anxiety and toil went on from day to day. At the end of ten weeks my wife's mother came, informing her where I was, and helped her and the children back to the border of the State.
From The Autobiography of John Fee
(C) This work is the property of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
It may be used freely by individuals for research, teaching and personal use
as long as this statement of availability is included in the text.
Ten weeks had elapsed since I had seen my wife and the two eldest children. These were weeks of commotion, anxiety and peril. As previously stated, when I started around by Cincinnati, my wife, with her two children, had started in her private carriage across the country for our inland home. The country at that time was full of soldiers, Union and Rebel. The first day she came as far as five miles south of Blue Licks, a noted "watering-place." The next day, after long delays, because of soldiery and government teams, she came to a country store and "tavern" -- eighteen miles from her home. The next morning, after securing a small supply of groceries for a destitute home in a destitute region, she started for home. On coming through Richmond, our county seat, the people, men and women, expressed surprise at seeing a woman driving along the highway. She had not proceeded more than three miles when she was halted by Union pickets, who at first suspected she might be a rebel spy, conveying news to Kirby Smith's men, who were already near to her home. Her frank manner, her commendation of "eternal vigilance as the price of liberty," her story of who she was and where she was going, together with the Union flag painted on her carriage, and manifestly, not recently, painted for effect, but of previous design -- all these considerations constrained the officer to say, "Let her go; she is all right." She came to her humble home, constructed a bedstead, filled a tick with straw, borrowed a blanket to sleep under, lay down with her two children and slept. The next day whilst out hunting up some simple cooking utensils which two years previously she had distributed among neighbors, rebel soldiers came into her house, took her borrowed blanket, her coarse and fine comb, her better shoes and Burritt's hat, and the carriage harness. The horse and carriage were hid in the woods. My daughter Laura had a very nice Union flag which her mother had made, and with this a set of silver spoons her grandfather had given to her; these she had hid up in the eaves-trough. These the rebels did not find; so the present loss of the little family was not great, and they could say with Col. Slack's slave, "Blessed be nothing; I has nothing to lose, and nothing to be sorry for."
Thousands of Kirby Smith's men were then encamped near by. With some other women my wife went to the encampment to see the complexion of the rebel soldiery. Whilst sitting with other women a rebel officer rode up, and addressing himself politely, inquired of my wife for her home, and then for the "politics" of the region. My wife said, "My home is near by; and, as for politics, we are for the Union, and believe slavery is wrong, and that the rebels are fighting for a lost cause." The officer inquired, "Madam, ain't you from the North?" She replied, "No, this is my home and my native State." Again he inquired in a tone derisive, "Madam, are you an Abolitionist?" She replied, "I am." "Well," said he, "I have seen some men who were Abolitionists, but I never before this saw a woman who was." My wife then asked, "Why are you here with the uniform of our men on you?" He had a Union belt on him with U.S. inverted. He replied, "Madam, don't you see that is S.U. -- Southern Union?" and rode off. Not long after this she heard the Cannon's roar at Perryville. Soon this was followed by the retreating rebel army with trains of wagons laden with plunder, and herds of lowing cattle famishing for the want of water.
Three rebel officers came up to her house and asked for food. My wife had some potatoes, meal, coarse flour and milk. She gave to them bread and milk, with baked potatoes. They received this kindly, and were very respectful. Soon after they were gone my wife learned that some rebel soldiers were in her potato patch, grabbing her potatoes.
A friend who had occupied the house for a time, left for her a small plat of ground planted with potatoes. Taking her son Burritt with her, she went for her potatoes. Something to live on then was an item of concern. She came to the fence and said, "Men, I have fed your officers, and now you are taking the last potato I have; this is no credit to you." One young fellow looked up pertly and said, "Madam, credit has gone up long ago." They filled their haversacks and went on.
Scenes of privation, anxiety and toil went on from day to day. At the end of ten weeks my wife's mother came, informing her where I was, and helped her and the children back to the border of the State.
From The Autobiography of John Fee
(C) This work is the property of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
It may be used freely by individuals for research, teaching and personal use
as long as this statement of availability is included in the text.
Bringing the