"The Last War Mule"

John Hartwell

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There are not nearly as many claimants for this coveted title as for "Last War Horse." Fewer mule owners kept track of their plebian animals' history than of their more aristocratic fellow-equidae ... and rarely had they been ridden into battle by famous generals or other wartime heroes. But, the claim has been tentatively put forth in behalf of a few individual animals.
Mulish.jpg

First we have a Mississippi Belle named Nancy, or Nance to her personal friends. Nance was not really an army mule. Her time of service in the Confederate military, as told below, can be measured in hours, rather than months, let alone years. Her own story might be considered a triumph, though the telling of it involves a long, sad tale of the cruel sufferings imposed upon many rural people in the South during the final days of ”the Cause.” Transcribed from the Biloxi Herald of 4 March 1893:

The Last War Mule
Towards the close of the civil war when many old soldiers of the gray uniform had despaired of the South’s cause, and, overcome either by fear of the enemy’s bullets or a desire to be with the loved ones at home, had turned their backs on the dear flag of the Confederacy and like a thief at night had stolen from the ranks of their comrades to reach home footsore and weary to kiss their faithful wives and again slink into the forests like a hunted deer to avoid the clutches of the cavalry -- little bands of mounted soldiers sent out from army headquarters to catch deserters and press them back into the service -- and others by their own authority, in order, no doubt, to shun the perils of actual warfare, rode high handed up and down the [illeg] districts plundering with wicked hands the homes of defenseless women and children, robbing them of what little sustenance they might yet possess.​
It is said that “all’s fair in love and war,” but hard indeed would be the task of the philosopher who could have impressed the infantile mind of this writer with the truth of the old saying when our cottage home was overrun by armed strangers, the smokehouse, kitchen, and pantry ransacked and deprived of any stray sausage or hams of bacon that might be found, and raids were made on the crib and the great piles of corn and fodder in the fence corners were eaten, destroyed, and wasted by their horses. But of all the terrible, dreadful memories that crowd upon us as we write, is the recollection of the family horse, the pride of the mother and the pet of the children, rudely taken from a mother’s hand and carried away without money and without price[?].​
However, we have let those old memories carry us entirely out of our course; we had started out to tell of what we offer as the “Last War Mule.” On the banks of Black Creek, near where Harrison and Perry counties meet, lived old man Jim Oneal who had, at the period of which we write, a four year old mare mule, which had been given the name of Nancy, but which is by no means related to the famous Nancy Hanks -- the great trotter of the present time. Nance, like many others of her kith and kin, was pulled by those cavalry, and chosen by one Lieutenant Runnels as a saddle animal. After crossing Black Creek the party came upon a straggling deserter, near where we now write, and Runnels, on his spry young mule led the chase, following the man into Bridge Creek, where Nance was firmly stuck in the mud and the much sought deserter made his escape, and yet lives, a good and respected citizen and neighbor to tell the tale of his adventure.​
Night came on and the party camped and Nance, mule-like, slipped her halter and kicking up her heels returned to her home by swimming Black Creek, where she received a joyful welcome and where she was hidden away in the deep, thick swamp of the creek and fed by loving hands until Lee surrendered and the cruel war was ended.​
Old Nance has changed owners twice but never changed her name. She is yet alive and doing active service carrying the mail from Wisdom to Perkinston once a week besides everyday work on the farm. Her age can be very nearly arrived at by adding four years to the period since the close of the war, and as a record for the establishment of her claim as the Last War Mule, we offer the above meagre sketch of her eventful life and promise the reader that if in our power we will have her on exhibition in Chicago at the world’s fair next year.​
Wisdom, Miss., Feb. 9, 1893​


I can find no evidence that Nance was exhibited at Chicago's "World's Columbian Exhibition," which actually ran from May 1 to Oct. 31, 1893, sooner than the writer apparently thought ... perhaps it wasn't, after all, "in [his] power" to arrange it.


NOTE: just as an example of the rather 'corrupted' clipping transcribed above:
Biloxi_Herald_1893-03-04_[1] (1).png
 
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Thanks for this story, @John Hartwell. I always enjoy seeing the mules remembered. Nance was a lucky one to have made her escape. One line in the account suggests that a particularly poignant scene must have been enacted countless times throughout the war:

"But of all the terrible, dreadful memories that crowd upon us as we write, is the recollection of the family horse, the pride of the mother and the pet of the children, rudely taken from a mother’s hand and carried away without money and without price[?]."

Here's a notable instance from Gettysburg, which Margaret Chreighton's terrific book "The Colors of Courage" recounts in detail.
 
Another "last army mule" candidate, also a Misissippian, had appeared a couple of years earlier.

The May 30, 1889 edition of the New Orleans Times-Picayune, included a “special” report on the doings of the circuit court at Mississippi City, Miss. The last of the few paragraphs, after relating cases of profanity, of selling lottery tickets, of selling liquor on Sunday, of carrying a concealed weapon, of assault and battery, and of the widow-lady fined for keeping an unlicensed boarding-house, reads as follows:

"The visitors to the courthouse are numerous, but one deserving of special mention is Elam Blackwell. It is not Mr. Blackwell himself who is deserving of conspicuousness, but the fact that he is owner of -- maybe -- the last army mule. On the night of the morn preceding the capture of Jefferson Davis, Mr. Blackwell left Washington, Ga., where he had accompanied Mr. Davis as one of his body guard, and started for home on the back of the same mule that had carried him through the war. He told your correspondent this morning that the same old mule was on the farm doing his lowing, carrying his children; a little gray, slightly bald, but yet a good old mule with prospects of many years of usefulness before it. Recent articles in the press of the states have alluded to the last war horse. Your correspondent is glad to have the opportunity of introducing the First Last War Mule."​

The Times-Picayune article is cited in several other newspapers of the period, but I can find nothing further about Elam Blackwell or his “good old mule.”
 
" A little gray, slightly bald " just makes the fellow more endearing. Mules are awesome. Despite being a domestic animal you have to work for their friendship. Horses can be bought with an apple and some general flattery, mules take more convincing. They're really smart.

Thanks for putting a story to one. I hope he lived to be 107.
 
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