An Interview with Forrest in May 1864
“The noise of battle is the only music that ravishes the senses of Forrest.”
Macon, Mississippi
May 28, 1864
I have
returned from Tupelo where I spent two days with Forrest. I have listened in
his encampment to stories of personal adventure that transcend in exciting
interest all that are narrated in books and that were told in song or story
before knight-errantry lost in attractiveness in the absurd pages of Don
Quixote. Let me tell you what I think of Forrest, and what I know of him.
There has not
been born of this revolution a more remarkable son. He is in truth the
offspring of revolution. Had there been no war, Forrest would be distinguished
solely for excellent good sense, his indomitable energy, and the success that
distinguished him as a planter and tradesman. He began life in the utmost
poverty. He was indebted to charity for bread and for nothing to books.
When I first knew him 15 years
ago, he was very poor. He came to Memphis and was, for a time, the proprietor
of a livery stable. In this business, he was not very successful. When a “fast”
young gentleman overtaxed his horses, Forrest was strangely inclined to push
the customer; he was not popular. He became a slave dealer. By his truthfulness
and excellent judgment as to the value of Negroes, he became the agent and
purchaser of slavers for the planners of the Mississippi valley. He grew rich
apace.
Louis Jared Dupree |
When the war began, he himself
was one of the wealthiest planters whose home was in Memphis. His credit with
merchants and bankers was more than half a million dollars. At the beginning of
the war, he amused himself by running the blockade from Louisville to Memphis.
He brought out from Louisville, when that city was occupied by a large Federal
force, horses and equipment for a company of cavalry. He then undertook to
raise a regiment of mounted men. This accomplished, he joined Albert Sidney
Johnston at Bowling Green.
In every encounter with the
enemy he was the victor. He killed the first man with a saber; his victim was a
Kentucky renegade, a huge fellow who bestrode a powerful horse. Forrest pursued
him a mile or two; the Kentuckian finding escape impossible, he turned to
fight. Their sabers clashed; the skin from the back of the Kentuckian’s head
was peeled off. Staggered by the blow, the Kentuckian could not parry the next
stroke and Forrest’s saber passed through his body.
His next achievement was
announced at Fort Donelson, whence he escaped when the place surrendered. He
rode over the battlefield of Shiloh like another Mars, was wounded, but only
maddened by pain which would have consigned other men to the hospital. In his
conflicts with infantry and cavalry he was uniformly successful. He next
captured Murfreesboro with a garrison stronger than his own force.
Then came his famed pursuit of Streight. When Streight surrendered,
he complained to Forrest that he had deceived him as to his strength. “Here,”
said Forrest “are your arms, those of your men shall be returned to them; here
is an open field. We can settle the question of valor- numbers are nothing!”
Streight was silenced.
In the recent fierce encounter
with Smith and Grierson at Okolona, Forrest himself killed eight men. Two of
these fell beneath his heavy blade. His men watch his battle flag; they gather
around it, and will follow it into the jaws of death. They know that Forrest
himself ever fights beneath its folds. He loves a fight as other men do a game
of cards and says he can’t keep out of one. He is constantly urged by officers,
soldiers, and citizens to avoid needless exposure of his person, but all in
vain. The noise of battle is the only music that ravishes the senses of
Forrest.
Ordinarily he is mild and
placable, but when maddened, is a very fiend incarnate. He is merciless to a
man who he suspects of cowardice and the most exacting of all commanders. He is
six feet in height, perfectly proportioned, and endued with wonderful strength.
His eyes are blue and have a very mild expression; his complexion is sallow,
his hair very black, his forehead very broad, and his manner nervous. He is
very still and in social intercourse laughs much, though never boisterously. He
delights in telling stories of the achievements of his men and say they are the
truest soldiers that ever drew sabers.
I was amazed, as long as I had
known Forrest, to hear him say at dinner yesterday in the presence of all his
staff and several visitors that if ever he should return to Memphis, no deed of
violence should be committed. He would gladly surrender his sword to the civil
authorities, whom he would sustain against all mobs however they might
originate or of whatever material they might be composed. He wished the war to
close, and said he had no ambition, no wish, beyond the independence of the
South.
I have stated that I had known Forrest long before the war began, but I can assure you that I never respected him as I did when he gave expressions to these sentiments. Let me add again that it is impossible for Forrest to play the hypocrite. When you look in his face, you are always conscious that he gives utterance to plain, unvarnished truth. His wife and son are with him. The wife, an excellent woman, unaffected in her manners and of profound religious convictions, but her excellent good sense and many virtues has kept Forrest out of a many a row. In her presence, he is always gentle and kind, but now and then even in the midst of the monotonous duties incident to idleness in camp, he yields the mastery to his ungovernable temper.
Sources:
Extract from a private letter to a lady in Georgia from
Louis Jared Dupree, Alabama Beacon (Alabama), June 24, 1864, pg. 1
Wills, Brian Steel. A Battle from the Start: The Life of Nathan Bedford Forrest. New York: HarperCollins, 1992, pgs. 201-203
Comments
Post a Comment