The Odyssey of the CSS Stonewall

Some friends and I were discussing the Civil War the other day—a common topic.  The subject came up, when did the war end?  “On April 9, 1865, of course, when Lee surrendered to Grant,” said one.  “No,” said another, “when Jo Johnston surrendered to Sherman in North Carolina.”  “No, No, you’re both wrong,” said a third, “it was in Texas in May.”

The CSS Stonewall in drydock, probably in France during construction. Millers Photographic History of the War vol. 6.

“You’re all wrong,” said I.  “The last Confederate troops to lay down their arms weren’t any of those.  It was the Confederate Navy that was the last to surrender, or at least two of their ships.”  And therein hangs a curious little tale or two.

Close up view of the Stonewall in drydock. Millers Photographic History of the War, Vol. 6

There was the CSS Stonewall, for example, a steam powered ironclad, built in France for the Confederacy.  Napoleon III, who was eager to support the Confederacy and have access to their cotton crops, secretly authorized the construction of this powerful warship.

The U.S. government found out, however, so the ship was quietly transferred to Denmark where the ironclad finished being fitted out.  It was there where Captain T. J. Page was made skipper of the new ironclad.  It was a formidable warship, built in the style of the French “Ocean Class” warships and was one of the most powerful for its time: it boasted one 300 pounder main gun, with two 70 pounder guns in a turret on the aft deck, sheathed in thick steel armor proof to just about any cannon fire, as well as a powerful steel ram attached to the bow of the ship.  The main gun fired forward, while the 70 pounders were in the turret, which presumably revolved, although it had a limited field of fire. The turret was handicapped by being located behind the aft mast instead of amidships, where the mast’s rigging seriously interfered with its line of fire.  In addition, she was equipped with at least two Gatling guns on top of the turret.

The Stonewall off the coast of Spain in early 1865.

Upon commissioning, it traveled down the European coastline, first to Brittany, thence to Spain and Portugal, with Yankee ships following at a respectful distance.

The CSS Stonewall leaving Lisbon Harbor for America. Source: Illustrated London News.

This powerful warship next cruised across the Atlantic and plied about the Caribbean for a bit, perhaps contemplating a raid or two against Union shipping.

Then one day in May, 1865, the CSS Stonewall showed up in Havana harbor, its solid steel sides and big guns looking quite intimidating.  The US Consul in Havana nearly had a fit; he knew the Stonewall was impervious to anything the US Navy could throw at it; the Navy’s low-lying ironclad monitors were no match for it: the ram-equipped Stonewall could simply crush them beneath its armored prow.  The commander of the East Gulf Blockading Squadron, Admiral C. K. Stribling, dispatched a detachment of warships to deal with the Rebel dreadnaught—although if the Confederates decided to make a fight of it, the Navy’s ships were likely doomed.  However, Stribling sent a personal note to the captain offering generous terms of surrender.  Captain Page, knowing that the Lost Cause was indeed lost, sold the ship to the Spanish governor of Cuba, paid off his crew with the money and he and his crew quietly made their exit from the scene.  The Spanish then re-sold the vessel to the U. S. government for what he’d paid the Confederate captain.

Now the USS Stonewall, sitting at anchor in the Washington Navy Yard, ca. 1865. courtesy US Navy

The Stonewall could lay fair claim to being the first modern battleship to see combat—but not with the Confederate Navy.  After languishing in a Navy yard for a few years, the Stonewall was sold to the Japanese government in 1868, then busily modernizing its armed forces and in a hurry to catch up with the European powers.  Initially, it was to be sold to the Tokugawa Shogunate, Japan’s last vestige of its Feudal heritage.

The Stonewall, rechristened the Kotetsu, sitting in a harbor somewhere in Japan. via US Navy

However, factions in Japan pushing hard for modernization sought to revive Imperial rule and overturn the old feudal order and instituted a coup, of sorts, called the Meiji Restoration.  But old ways die hard in Japan and their restoration of Imperial rule sparked a brief Civil War, The Boshin War.  Remaining neutral, the US refused to hand over the Stonewall, now called the Kotetsu, which was briefly reflagged as an American vessel again.

the Kotetsu at the Battle of Hakudate. (via US Navy).

Finally, in February, 1869, she was handed over to the new Meiji government, who named her the Kotetsu and promptly sent her north to Hokkaido to stamp out the last of Shogun resistance to the new regime.  The Kotetsu participated in the Battle of Miyako , repulsing a rebel boarding party with its Gatling guns.  The Kotetsu would go on to also fight in the Battle of Hakudate  before the last remnants of the old regime on Hakkaido were finally defeated.  In 1871, the Stonewall was again renamed, this time the Azuma, under which she remained in service until 1888 and was finally scrapped in 1908.

The Kotetsu flying Japanese colors. (via US NAVY)

The Stonewall/Kotetsu was not the Rebel Navy’s last ship to lower its flag; but more about that next time.

1. For hobbyists, there is in fact a model available of the Kotetsu, as well as a paper model of the Stonewall–a modeling specialty popular in Japan and Europe, not so much here.  One enterprising Italian hobbyist used the scale plans from that kit to make a 1/75 scale wooden model.

My latest book about the Civil War is now in print and available: Ambrose Bierce and the Period of Honorable Strife, chronicling the war career of the famous American author and his war experiences in the Union army.

Ambrose Bierce, famed American author, is best known for his macabre fiction and cynical humor. Bierce’s wartime experiences were the transformative events of the young author’s life. Ambrose Bierce and the Period of Honorable Strife for the first time chronicles this pivotal period of Bierce’s life.

 

The CSS Stonewall off the coast of Feral Spain, pursued by two Yankee warships. Watercolor by artist Ian Marshall

 

 

Ambrose Bierce and the Other Flag Debate

Fight for the Colors by Don Troiani

 

For anyone who followed the recent debates over the display of Confederate flags, they may find it of interest that the Confederate Battle Flag has been a bone of contention before, albeit under different circumstances.

Ambrose Bierce, whom I have spent several years researching and writing about, once weighed in on that previous flag dispute.  At that time, it had little to do with the issue of racism–since whites north and south were all on the same page–racist–but rather with the return of the actual battle flags to the South.  After the war, northern politicians could be assured of getting votes if they “waved the bloody shirt”–reminded voters of the loss of northern lives in the Civil War.  That this was as self-serving political bloviating perhaps goes without saying.  Then, as now, there were any number of “chicken-hawks”–politicians who had not fought in the war but acted as though they had–who raged against returning the battle standards to the Southern states.

Among those who argued for conciliation and return of these symbols–not in praise of their cause–but in honor of the many fellow Americans on the other side who had also suffered and died in the war–was Ambrose Bierce.  It is in this context that Bierce’s poem should be understood:

The Confederate Flags

Tut-tut! give back the flags – how can you care,

You veterans and heroes?

Why should you at a kind intention swear

Like twenty Neros?

Suppose the act was not so overwise –

Suppose it was illegal;

Is’t well on such a question to arise

And punch the Eagle?

Nay, let’s economize his breath to scold

And terrify the alien

Who tackles him, as Hercules of old

The bird Stymphalian.

Among the rebels when we made a breach

Was it to get the banners?

That was but incidental – ’twas to teach

Them better manners.

They know the lessons well enough to-day;

Now, let us try to show them

That we’re not only stronger far than they,

(How we did mow them!)

But more magnanimous. My lads, ’tis plain

‘Twas an uncommon riot;

The warlike tribes of Europe fight for gain;

We fought for quiet.

If we were victors, then we all must live

With the same flag above us;

‘Twas all in vain unless we now forgive

And make them love us.

Let kings keep trophies to display above

Their doors like any savage;

The freeman’s trophy is the foeman’s love,

Despite war’s ravage.

‘Make treason odious?’ My friends, you’ll find

You can’t, in right and reason,

While ‘Washington’ and ‘treason’ are combined –

‘Hugo’ and ‘treason.’

All human governments must take the chance

And hazard of sedition.

O wretch! to pledge your manhood in advance

To blind submission.

It may be wrong, it may be right, to rise

In warlike insurrection:

The loyalty that fools so dearly prize

May mean subjection.

Be loyal to your country, yes – but how

If tyrants hold dominion?

The South believed they did; can’t you allow

For that opinion?

He who will never rise though rulers plot,

His liberties despising –

He is he manlier than the sans-culottes

Who’s always rising?

Give back the foolish flags whose bearers fell,

Too valiant to forsake them.

Is it presumptuous, this counsel? Well,

I helped to take them.

 

Ambrose Bierce, famous author, noted cynic and war hero.  His portrayal of war was based on personal experience and his realistic style of writing heavily influenced twentieth century writers.

 

 

 

 

 

Nathan Bedford Forrest: The Symbol and the Reality

Friends, Politically Correct Partisans, Lend Me your Ears!  I come to bury Nathan Bedford Forrest, not to praise him (sort of).

Enough of the bad Shakespeare imitation. I normally do not mix current political discussions with history, but it seems we cannot talk about the events of over 150 years ago without inevitably being dragged into debates about the present.

The current mess began with the brutal and senseless murder of nine black church members in Charleston, South Carolina and ensuing controversy regarding the Confederate flag—or more properly, the Confederate battle standard.  While I personally feel that it is improper to wave that symbol of rebellion over any state building or government grounds other than historic sites, and that its removal from the South Carolina state capitol was long overdue, the subsequent politically correct jihad against the Rebel flag and banning it from all public venues—including the Dukes of Hazard car and Walmart—not only borders on the hysterical, but entirely misses the  point. And since then, the PC frenzy has morphed into vigilantism and vandalism, not only towards historic statues of Confederate leaders, but has expanded to war memorials to American dead and the vandalizing of graves on private property.

 Racism and rampant gun violence are the real problems, not the Confederate battle standard, which was not even the national flag of the Confederacy.  Banning the Rebel flag does nothing to fight racism, still less to control the ability of mentally unstable persons and criminals to have unfettered access to high-powered automatic and semi-automatic weapons.  The American public has, in my view, been hoodwinked by a neat little bait and switch ploy on the part of politicians unwilling to deal with the real issues.

To be sure, the Rebel battle standard has been used by hate groups as a symbol in the past and still is, but then so too has the Christian cross; so are we also going to ban the use of the cross in any public display?  Some Jews may regard the Crescent and Star as a hate symbol; some Arabs may likewise view the Star of David in a similar vein; but neither is inherently a symbol of hatred or bigotry.  While I wouldn’t feel comfortable displaying the Confederate battle flag on my person or property, I recognize that there are many folks who may display it as a symbol of either regional pride, Southern heritage or just plain as a symbol that they’re a redneck good ol’ boy who likes to drink Jack Daniels and go yee-haw! at music concerts.

The same symbol can mean different things to different people, especially so the Rebel flag.  By all means let us deal with racism; and there are many, many things that can be done to regulate and control guns while still respecting the letter and spirit of the Second Amendment that would save many lives, all without adversely affecting responsible hunters, sportsmen and collectors.

Also caught up in this growing tidal wave of political correctness (really the shuck and jive avoidance of dealing with the real issues) is the issue of Nathan Bedford Forrest, or more precisely, his likeness in the Tennessee State Capital and in Memphis.  Swept up in their fervor for erasing history, local Democrat and Republican politicians and various pundits among the general public have called for its removal from the august halls of the state capitol.  In Memphis, arguably the poorest city IN THE COUNTRY, demagogues have inflamed public opinion with misinformation and half-truths and are diverting hundreds of thousands of taxpayer money to pursue illegal actions–money sorely needed for education and fighting poverty and drug use.

Please note: no one is calling for the repeal of the drunks-with-guns-in-bars law the state legislators passed, or the guns in playgrounds law, or the take your gun to work law, much less rolling back the patently discriminatory voter ID laws Tennessee and other states have passed to make it as difficult as possible to vote.  Nope: just remove the Nathan Bedford Forrest bust from Capitol Hill and illegally remove a historic monument in a public park and vandalize Forrest’s grave.

In truth, General Forrest has always been something of a controversial figure, even during his lifetime.  He never quite made it into the pantheon of the Lost Cause; he was not a Virginia Swan, he did not graduate from West Point and, while Forrest was an officer, he was sometimes less than a gentleman.  It is true that before the Civil War he had been a slave trader, an odious occupation even in the South–and one which his wife had strong objections to.

Starting as a common soldier, his native genius for war led to his rapid promotion;  in battle after battle, he was “fustest with the mostest” (as he is often misquoted as saying) defeating the Yankees on numerous occasions. His record of success in battle speaks for itself; as a great captain of war, he is due recognition on that count alone.

 

Nathan Bedford Forrest surrounds the Yankee cavalry single-handedly. He allegedly killed 30 Federals personally and lost 31 horses in battle, and came out of the war “a horse ahead.”

 

One incident which seems to belie the claim that Forrest was a virulent racist was towards the beginning of the war, when he made an interesting offer to the Blacks in his service:

“When I entered the army I took 47 negroes into the army with me, and 45 of them were surrendered with me. I said to them at the start: ‘This fight is against slavery; if we lose it, you will be made free; if we whip the fight, and you stay with me and be good boys, I will set you free. In either case you will be free. Those boys stayed with me, drove my teams, and better confederates did not live.'” (statement before the 40th US Congress, 3rd Session)

His war career did have one black mark, however; at Fort Pillow he was accused of conducting a massacre of Black Union soldiers.  That a massacre of surrendering soldiers did occur there is generally accepted by historians; how many were shot after surrendering versus armed soldiers fleeing to the river and the safety of Union gunboats, however, remains hotly disputed.  Forrest always denied giving any explicit orders in regard shooting unarmed prisoners and maintained that the Union prisoners, black and white, were treated humanely.  After the war he testified before Congress on that score and pointed out that the terms of surrender he offered the Union garrison at Fort Pillow was more generous than Grant’s terms to Lee at Appomattox.

At the end of the war, in his farewell address to his troops Forrest told them:

“I have never, on the field of battle, sent you where I was unwilling to go myself; nor would I now advise you to a course which I felt myself unwilling to pursue. You have been good soldiers, you can be good citizens. Obey the laws, preserve your honor, and the Government to which you have surrendered can afford to be, and will be, magnanimous.”

In the chaos of the postwar era, the Ku Klux Klan came into being.  Begun in Pulaski, Tennessee, initially as a fraternal group by half a dozen bored Confederate veterans, it soon morphed into a vigilante organization and, after a time, General Forrest was asked to head the “secret empire.”  Before Congress Forrest denied membership, however he was being disengenous in that regard.  Nonetheless, as acts of violence and vigilantism attributed to Klan members grew, Forrest became disturbed at the way the organization was developing.  In 1869, he publicly called for the Klan’s disbandment because of its use of violence.

Today, General Forrest has become a symbol of racism and violence divorced from the historical record; the facts regarding his life and times seem to matter little to those who use him as a symbol of our current national problems.  The historical reality, however, was far more nuanced.  If he did possess strong racial feelings before or during the war–and that is far from certain–it is clear that in the postwar era he underwent a sincere change of heart.  At one point he was credited with single-handedly preventing a white race riot.  Then, in 1875, he was asked to speak before a meeting of Black Southerners seeking racial reconciliation and agreed.  His said, in part, this:

“We were born on the same soil, breathe the same air, and live in the same land. Why, then, can we not live as brothers? I will say that when the war broke out I felt it my duty to stand by my people. When the time came I did the best I could, and I don’t believe I flickered. I came here with the jeers of some white people, who think that I am doing wrong. I believe that I can exert some influence, and do much to assist the people in strengthening fraternal relations, and shall do all in my power to bring about peace. It has always been my motto to elevate every man- to depress none. I want to elevate you to take positions in law offices, in stores, on farms, and wherever you are capable of going.”

This doesn’t much sound like the rantings of a rabid racist, does it?  There is another bust of another former Confederate soldier in the state legislature as well, maybe they should remove his statue as well: Sampson Keeble, placed there in 2010.  By the way, Keeble was born a slave and in 1873 became the first Black elected to the Tennessee state legislature.

Oh, yes, and then there is the little matter of Andrew Jackson and the Cherokee Indians’ Trail of Tears.  His equestrian statue is very prominent on Capitol Hill in downtown Nashville; how about removing him too while we’re at it?

Nathan Bedford Forrest was certainly no saint: he was quick to anger and ferocious in the heat of battle; he may have been guilty of committing wrongs during the war.  But Forrest was also a man capable of growth and change and, all in all, a better man than those who would turn him into an icon of hate and bigotry give him credit.

There are many more things one could say pro and con regarding N.B, but this essay has already rambled on too long. Let me inflict a little more Shakespeare on you in closing:

“The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their bones.”

 

For more about the war in the Western Theater, see Ambrose Bierce and the Period of Honorable Strife, University of Tennessee Press.

 

Ambrose Bierce and the Period of Honorable Strife, chronicles the wartime career of one of America’s most famous authors.