When the War Came to McMinnville

Writing in her journal on Sunday, January 4, 1863, McMinnville resident Lucy Virginia French recalled the ghastly toll the Battle of Stones River levied upon her local community. It was the evening of New Year’s day when the body of Captain Drury C. Spurlock of the 16th Tennessee was brought into McMinnville by Spurlock’s father.

“We went into the parlor at John’s to see poor Cap as soon as he was laid out,” she recorded. “His uniform was very bloody and it had to be cut off of him. They dressed him in a fine suit of black cloth such as he used to wear before the war began. How noble and handsome he looked and how natural! You could not notice the small place where the ball entered as it was completely concealed by his mustache and his face was so serene and calm. His mouth had a faint smile upon it.”

They buried him the following day as the thunderous sounds of Breckinridge’s assault echoed in the distance. “The artillery firing at Murfreesboro was tremendous that evening, heavier and faster than we ever heard it, and it was heard as Mr. McMurray prayed and voiced tremulous with tears raised the hymn around the soldier’s coffin,” she wrote. “All the way to the graveyard and while we laid him down at his last rest, and as we returned, it came rolling up from the northwest, a fitting requiem for the gallant dead.”

          Lucy French, the wife of John Hopkins French, was a noted antebellum Southern author who published works under the nom-de-plume of “L’Inconnue.” The couple lived at a residence called “Forest Home” near McMinnville in Warren County, about 40 miles southeast of Murfreesboro. Her handwritten journal is available online from the Tennessee Virtual Archive. 

 

Lucy Virginia French of McMinnville, Tennessee recorded the emotional impact the loss of Captain Drury Spurlock on her neighbors. "The frantic exclamations, the half frightened and wild sobbing of Florence, and the still silent agony of the aged father were terrible to me," she wrote. "Little did I think when on Wednesday night as I lay down in bed and was thinking about the dead and wounded that were lying out in the cold that our dear Cap was among them!" 

Sunday, January 4, 1863

McMinnville, Tennessee

          The news of a great victory at Murfreesboro gladdened our hearts and we counted over the spoils as follows: 6,000 prisoners, 3,000 mules, 40 cannons, quantities of ordnance and ammunition, a good deal of coffee, etc. for our sick. We burned 600 wagons and killed the Yankees in some places 10 to 1. Our loss in killed and wounded is 5,000 but alas, how was this triumph sullied with blood.

          Cooper came to the door and said, “Mas’ John [Lucy’s husband], Mr. Spurlock has just come from Murfreesboro and he wants you to come up there. Mr. Cap Spurlock is killed and they are bringing his body up now.” Great God! I felt as if stunned by a thunderbolt. Cap Spurlock killed? I could not believe it, I could not realize it. Alas! It was too true. We all three, Mollie, Darlin’ [her husband], and myself went up immediately. The corpse had arrived. Oh, how wretched! How very wretched it made me feel and how I wept and sobbed.

He was in the hottest part of the fight. His company was stationed on both sides of the railroad just where it crossed the pike near Cowan’s. He was acting major as Pat Coffee is home on sick furlough and had sprang on in advance of his men, cheering them when he was struck down. He fell and I suppose died instantly. The ball entered just below the left nostril and passed through his head, stopping just under the skin. This, however, no one knew as the struggle was so fierce and the firing so furious that they fought over him from 2 o’clock until night and it was 11 o’clock at night before his body was recovered.

His father was there [James C. Spurlock]. He had gone down to carry the boys some Christmas things and he brought back the body of his son! We went into the parlor at John’s to see poor Cap as soon as he was laid out. His uniform was very bloody and it had to be cut off of him. They dressed him in a fine suit of black cloth such as he used to wear before the war began. How noble and handsome he looked and how natural! You could not notice the small place where the ball entered as it was completely concealed by his mustache and his face was so serene and calm. His mouth had a faint smile upon it. He was paler than usual, but otherwise looked just like himself in a calm, sweet slumber.

Captain Drury C. Spurlock
16th Tennessee Infantry
Killed at Stones River

But oh how wretched I felt to know he was dead! About 10 o’clock, they took him down to town to his mother. Darlin’ went with the corpse and remained all night. John Lucas Thompson came with us. It was moonlight and there was a large and brilliant halo around the moon. It was just such a night as we all met up at John’s last winter when Cap was home for a short time and he came home with Mollie. The next night I had supper here and some friends to meet him, but oh little did I think when on Wednesday night last I lay down in bed and was thinking about the dead and wounded that were lying out in the cold that our dear Cap was among them! That one night a year ago he was on the Carolina coast and that night two years ago he was here, amid a merry throng at our Union party. God rest his soul, and I know it is in glory.

On Friday afternoon [January 2, 1863], we attended the funeral. I made a beautiful wreath of geranium leaves and daphne, emblems of the honors and loves he had won and it was laid upon his breast. It should have been laid at his feet where all earthly crowns must now lie. In his coffin, still and pale, he looked like the Christian hero that he was. A garland of geranium and evergreen was laid all around his head and shoulders, while my wreath emblematic of the completeness of his life laid upon his breast.

Few looked on him without tears. His family and friends were overwhelmed. The frantic exclamations of his mother, the half frightened and wild sobbing of Florence, and the still silent agony of the aged father were terrible to me. As Miss Sophia Searcy stood for hours beside his coffin weeping, I wondered if she remembered the time when she had said, “Let war come! I want it to come! I want these Tennesseans roused. Let it come! We are ready!” Were any of us ready to part with Cap?

The artillery firing at Murfreesboro was tremendous that evening, heavier and faster than we ever heard it, and it was heard as Mr. McMurray prayed and voiced tremulous with tears raised the hymn around the soldier’s coffin. All the way to the graveyard and while we laid him down at his last rest, and as we returned, it came rolling up from the northwest, a fitting requiem for the gallant dead.

Captain Spurlock's grave in
McMinnville

About dark, we came home in John’s carriage. I had cried so much and been so excited I was sick all night and the next. It rained all day Saturday and rained and blew furiously last night. About 8 o’clock last night, Henderson came to the door and said, “Mas John, the telegraph operator says for you to come in there, he’s got a dispatch for you.” Boisterous and stormy as it was, Darlin’ jumped on his horse and rode in. I was confident that Brooks Trezevant was killed or wounded. Mollie and I sat here in the greatest suspense until Darlin’ returned. “What is it?” I asked breathlessly. “God South immediately,” were his ominous words.

Our army was retreating. Brooks was safe, thank God for that. He told he was fearful it would be another Shiloh or Perryville affair where we would whip them but they would reinforce and we would be obliged to fall back. And so it was proved. Many citizens returned from Murfreesboro today, indeed the road has been full of citizens returning from Murfreesboro including Governor [Isham] Harris, Andrew Ewing, Judge Humphrey, and many others have come in. The report of victory decided, the Yankees reinforced and our men having got off all the prisoners and things captured. They were retreating in good order to Wartrace and Shelbyville. They say this but will retreat to Chattanooga as sure as you live and we will be left here at the mercy of those savages the Yankees. What is to become of us, God only knows.


To learn more about the Stones River campaign, be sure to check out my upcoming book "Hell by the Acre: A Narrative History of the Stones River Campaign" scheduled for release in November by Savas Beatie.

Source:

Journal of Lucy Virginia French, Tennessee Virtual Archive

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