Hiram Hulin seeks justice for murdered sons

Many years ago, historian Bill Auman called my attention to the following letter from Hiram Hulin to Col. M. Cogwell, Commander of the U.S. Post at Fayetteville in Reconstruction North Carolina. Hulin, an antislavery Wesleyan Methodist from Montgomery County, was seeking justice for his three sons, Jesse, John, and William, who were murdered during the Civil War by Confederate home guard troops because of their refusal to serve in the Confederate Army.

Submitted by Victoria Bynum. Originally published in Elizabeth Gregory McPherson, ed. “Letters from North Carolina to Andrew Johnson,” North Carolina Historical Review vol. 28, no. 1 (Jan. 1952): 118-119.

September 28, 1867

Sir,

Permit me to address a line to you in which I ask your opinion of the course proper to be pursued in regard to the arrest and trial of certain persons who in the time of the war murdered my three sons Jesse, John, and William Hulin and also James Atkins who were evading the military service in the Confederate Army; after arresting them they took them before two Justices of the Peace for trial. From the only information which we can get the Justices committed them to jail. They were delivered into the hands of the murderers who were home-guard troops and while on their way to the pretended prison they deliberately shot and beat to death with guns and rocks my three sons and Atkins while tied with their hands and handcuffed together. One Henry Plott now residing in the County of Cabarrus was the officer in command of the s[q]uad of murderers at the time of the murder was committed. Most of the murderers were strangers to the people of the County and their names are entirely unknown to us except one George W. Sigler who now resides quietly in Marshall County, Mississippi. Against him a bill has been found by the Grand-jury of this County. His Post office is Byhala about 16 miles from Holly Springs, Mississippi. I have informed the State Solicitor of his where abouts and nothing is done for his arrest. Permit me to pray you in the name of my departed sons to lend aid of the Military force of the government to arrest and bring to trial the felonious murderer. I beseech you by all the paternal feelings which a father should hold for a son to lend us aid in this matter.

We would earnestly commend that you arrest Henry Plott as so-called Captain in the Confederate Army in command of the murderous squad and that he be held in custody till he reveals the names of the remainder of the murderers. Henry Plott was heard to say soon after the murder “we caught four,” and the question was asked, “what did you do with them?” Answer “we put them up a spout.” “Did you kill them?” “Yes we did.” All the facts above stated can be proved by the best of testimony.

You will please inform us by your earlyest convenience what course you can take in [this] matter and what it may be necessary for us to do in the premises. With Great respect I am sir

Your Obedient servant
Hiram Hulin

*For another related post by Dr. Bynum, see Kill or be Killed from 2/12/09.

Confederate Treatment of a Brethren Elder: Elder John Kline’s Story

In the wake of South Carolina’s move to secede, and while discussion of the same began to take place in Virginia, one can only imagine the troubles faced by local Mennonite and Dunker populations considering the positions of both considering their anti-slavery and anti-secession views. These German-descended religious groups also held firm belief in the separateness from the state and abstention from politics.

A resident of Bowman’s Mill in Rockingham County, Elder John Kline was a prominent local leader of the groups as well as a national leader. Kline was also a well-established member of the community at large and personal friend of both Congressman John T. Harris and special convention delegate Algernon S. Gray (both of Rockingham County). From the start, Kline made clear his views to Harris and Gray, and also to Governor John Letcher. The following are extracted from Elder Kline’s diary, the transcriptions of which were made by Benjamin Funk for the book Life and Labors of Elder John Kline, the Martyr Missionary

TUESDAY, January 1, 1861. The year opens with dark and lowering clouds in our national horizon. I feel a deep interest in the peace and prosperity of our country; but in my view both are sorely threatened now. Secession is the cry further south; and I greatly fear its poisonous breath is being wafted northward towards Virginia on the wings of fanatical discontent. A move is clearly on hand for holding a convention at Richmond, Virginia; and while its advocates publicly deny the charge, I, for one, feel sure that it signals the separation of our beloved old State from the family in which she has long lived and been happy. The perishable things of earth distress me not, only in so far as they affect the imperishable. Secession means war; and war means tears and ashes and blood. It means bonds and imprisonments, and perhaps even death to many in our beloved Brotherhood, who, I have the confidence to believe, will die, rather than disobey God by taking up arms.

The Lord, by the mouth of Moses, says: “Be sure your sin will find you out.” It may be that the sin of holding three millions of human beings under the galling yoke of involuntary servitude has, like the bondage of Israel in Egypt, sent a cry to heaven for vengeance; a cry that has now reached the ear of God. I bow my head in prayer. All is dark save when I turn my eyes to him. He assures me in his Word that “all things work together for good to them that love him.” This is my ground of hope for my beloved brethren and their wives and their children. He alone can provide for their safety and support. I believe he will do it.

Regardless of the religious beliefs, a letter from John T. Harris urged Kline to encourage and influence his friends and fellow Dunkers to vote for referring the action of the convention to the people’s final approval. Following the suggestion from Harris would put Kline in an awkward position among the brethren of the church. Again on January 30, Kline wrote Letcher encouraging the governor’s continued stand for Union, while also realizing the ever-possible threat of war and urging that Dunkers be exempt from military service.

WEDNESDAY, January 30. Write a letter to John Letcher, Governor of Virginia, in which I set before him in a brief way the doctrines which we as a body or church, known as Brethren, German Baptists or Dunkards, have always held upon the subject of obedience to the “rightful authority and power of government.” We teach and are taught obedience to the “powers that be;” believing as we do that “the powers that be are ordained of God,” and under his divine sanction so far as such powers keep within God’s bounds. By God’s bounds we understand such laws and their administrations and enforcements as do not conflict with, oppose, or violate any precept or command contained in the Divine Word which he has given for the moral and spiritual government of his people. By government, to which we as a body acknowledge and teach our obligations of duty and obedience, we understand rightful human authority. And by this, again, we understand, as the Apostle Paul puts it, “the power that protects and blesses the good, and punishes the evildoer.” The general Government of the United States of America, constituted upon an inseparable union of the several States, has proved itself to be of incalculable worth to its citizens and the world, and therefore we, as a church and people, are heart and soul opposed to any move which looks toward its dismemberment.

This is in substance what I wrote to John Letcher, Governor of Virginia.

I likewise attend Abraham Shue’s sale: The candidates for seats in the Convention to meet in Richmond were on the ground, actively speaking both publicly and privately. Mr. George Chrisman, one of them, a man of preeminent wisdom in things relating to government, publicly avowed himself opposed to secession on the basis of both principle and policy. “On the ground of principle,” said he, “secession violates the pledge of sacred honor made by the several States when they set their hands and seals to the Constitution of the United States. On the ground of policy,” continued he, “the secession of Virginia will culminate in the breaking up of her long-cherished institutions, civil, social, and, to some extent, religious.”

FRIDAY, February 1. Write to John T. Harris, our representative in Congress. Beseech him to do all he can to avert the calamity that now threatens us, by pouring oil upon the troubled waters until the tempest of passion abates. I esteem him as an incorruptible patriot at heart. May the Lord guide him and all the other lawmakers of our land.

Letcher replied that he thought “it entirely reasonable that those who have conscientious scruples in regard to the performance of military duty should be relieved by the payment of a small compensation.” It may have seemed fair enough, but some locals were unable to let the issue rest. Observing a drive among some for secession, a worried Kline wrote

Great excitement on account of secession and war movements. The volunteers are being called out to enter the field of war and God only knows what the end will be. There is great commotion everywhere in the realm of thought and sentiment, men’s hearts failing them for fear, the sea and the waves of human passion roaring.

When the referendum for secession was put before the citizens of Virginia (May 23, 1861), the one place which was held in a controversial vote in Rockingham County was Mt. Crawford. With the vote of 258 to 1, the town endorsed the vote for secession. Colonel Peter Roller, having been a staunch supporter for disunion and judge in the Mt. Crawford precinct, had been certain that the town would vote unanimously in favor. The story of the one odd vote proved to have two tales behind it.

In the first tale, on the day of the vote and supposedly sometime before noon, the Elder John Kline rode in and cast his ballot. As he rode away, the questions began to arise in regard to Kline’s standing against slavery and secession. When the suspense proved too much, the box ballot box was opened and the one opposed vote found inside. Determined to keep his jurisdiction solidly secesh, the angry Roller, his sons and a few other men quickly mounted in an effort to catch the Dunker minister and persuade him to vote otherwise. Having taken the Valley Stage Road and overtaken Kline at the Carpenter farm, the posse drew their pistols and ordered Kline to return and change his ballot. The minister, feeling that his life was more important than a lone vote, returned changed his ballot and rode away again without being made a martyr (Life Under Four Flags in the North River Basin of Virginia, by C.E. May. pp. 383-384).

Another version of the episode, as described in the May 24 edition of the Rockingham Register, may have watered-down the controversy surrounding the event. According to that version, it was John Harrison, an election judge, who changed Kline’s vote to reflect unanimity in the community.

It may be that the content found on this site better sums-up other troubles faced by Kline during the course of the war. I include a few paragraphs from that source here…

His passion for non-resistence prompted Elder Kline to write to Governor Letcher of Virginia and legislators John Hopkins, John C. Woodson and Charles Lewis, explaining the faith and disciplines of the Brethren, as well as the Mennonites. He feared a draft would force these peace people of the Shenandoah Valley to violate or compromise their faith. So he appealed for an exemption from military service. His efforts succeeded in the Exemption Act passed March 29, 1862, for anyone who is “bona fide prevented from bearing arms, by the tenets of the church to which said applicant belongs,” including a payment of $500 plus 2% of the assessed value of the applicant’s taxable property. These exemption fees Elder Kline helped to raise, paying many from his own resources. He led the renewal of similar exemption efforts when Virginia seceded from the Union and the Confederate Congress did not recognize previous Virginia Legislature actions. Just after this, John Kline would be imprisoned with other Brethren and Mennonite leaders in the jury room of the Rockingham County courthouse on April 5, 1862, because of their opposition to the war. [Note: Elder Kline was not released until April 19]

Kline’s diary editor Benjamin Funk makes this comment at the beginning of 1862: “At this time medicines were scarce and [also] physicians in the army. As a consequence of this the demands for Brother Kline’s professional services as a physician were largely increased. The Diary for this year shows an almost incredible amount of labor performed by him in this line. He was called to go twenty miles to see patients on Lost River. He also treated patients in Pendleton and Shenandoah counties, and many in Brock’s Gap and in his own and adjoining neighborhoods. He had no day of rest. In connection with all this labor and responsibility, the Brotherhood looked to him for counsel and comfort on every hand. At the same time, he wrote many letters, not only to distant Brethren, but to men in civil and military place and power.”

His freedom of movement during the Civil War, and his frequent travels across battle lines raised several threats on Elder Kline’s life. He would say in closing remarks on May 19, 1864, to the Brethren gathered at the Annual Meeting in Hagerstown, IN, “Possibly you may never see my face or hear my voice again. I am now on my way back to Virginia., not knowing the things that shall befall me there. It may be that bonds and afflictions abide me. But I feel that I have done nothing worthy of bonds or of death; and none of these things move me; neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I may finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gospel of the grace of God.”

Elder Kline moderated four annual meetings during the Civil War; he held three of the four meetings (1862, 1863, and 1864) in the North. Not long after returning from the last meeting at Nettle Creek Church in Indiana, and after repairing a clock at a church member’s house four miles west of his home, Elder John Kline was killed on June 15, 1864, by a few local Confederate irregulars unsympathetic to his cause.

See this photo post at Shenandoah’s Civil War, this page at The Historic Marker Database and this site for photos of the monument that stands on the site of Elder Kline’s “assasination.” For an interesting museum regarding the experience of pacifists in the Civil War, see also the Valley Brethren-Mennonite Historical Center.

Article written by Robert H. Moore, II

The Shelton Laurel Massacre

The slain included James Shelton, David Shelton, Azariah Shelton, William Chandler, Wade H. Moore, Roderick Shelton, David Shelton, Jr., James Shelton, Jr., William Shelton, Joseph Woods, Ellison King, Halen Moore, and James Metcalf.

More information on the massacre can be found here, here, and here.

A very good discussion thread can also be found here and here in the Southern Unionist Forum. Included in these threads is a brief discussion about the hangings of women following the Shelton Laurel Massacre. When reading note the extremely good investigative work and analysis that has been applied to this event.

The Story of the Meadows family

A Virginia family, Thomas and Elizabeth Meadows lived along Naked Creek on the Page and Rockingham county line. In the family, there were four sons [Mitchell (born ca. 1823), James (born ca. July 1826), William T. (born December 7, 1839), and Henry “Hiram” (born September 1842)] who would be considered age-eligible for military service by the time of the Civil War, and, naturally, being from Virginia, the assumption might be fairly automatic that there service would be with the Confederacy. Incidentally, a fifth son, Emanuel (born February 21, 1833) left Virginia for Harrisburg, Pennsylvania in the late 1850s.

Out of the four brothers who remained in Virginia, Confederate service records can be found for James, William and Henry. Actually, James’ service was not recorded in the military records but in pension records stating that he served in Company #4, of the Nineteenth Virginia Heavy Artillery. Since he has no service record, it can be safely assumed that he entered the unit late in the war (finding late war Confederate enlistment records can be an impossible task). William T. is shown in the records of the Tenth Virginia Infantry as having been conscripted on July 1, 1863 at Harrisonburg into the ranks of Company I. His service was short-lived, and by July 23, 1863, he was listed as absent without leave. The third brother to serve in the Confederate army was Henry (also known as “Hiram”), who was shown as having enlisted in Company L, Ninety-seventh Virginia Militia on August 8, 1861. So, on the surface, excepting the service of William T. Meadows, it appears that the family was pretty much behind the actions of Virginia in support of the Confederacy. Care should be made however, as information found by “scratching the surface” with the military records can be deceiving.

The first obvious problem in making an assumption about the family’s overall support for the Confederacy is easily identified in William T. Meadows – a conscript who took the first opportunity to break away from the conscript hunters and become a deserter. But, the actions of one brother do not necessarily define the sentiments of the others. As in all cases of finding a deserter in the family, you must look beyond the one brother (or family member) and see what may have motivated (or not motivated) the other brothers in their service as Confederate soldiers. In fact, James Meadows’ service as a Confederate soldier offers complications in defining the sentiments of this family. As a late war entry, was he actually a conscript and, unlike his brother William, was he not afforded the same chance to desert? Or, was James actually a true late war enlistee who remained faithfully in the ranks as a Confederate soldier? As I mentioned, the only record of service for James exists in a pension record, and basing “loyal service” on a pension record can be taking a great deal for granted.

Confederate pension boards in Virginia were, for the most part, made up of local Confederate veterans, at least early-on in the process. However, by the 1920s, early 1930s and onward, Confederate veterans were not manning the boards as many had died or were “up in age.” In the early part of the pension application process, the veterans appear to have effectively screened pension applications, at least most of the time. For the most part, it might be understood that veterans were able to look at an application, recall the applicant’s sentiments and actions at the time of the war, and make an accurate determination as to whether the applicant was a “loyal” Confederate and if he merited a pension. Once again however, the veterans on the pension board could not accurately speak for everyone as some of the late war enlistees were enrolled or conscripted into less familiar companies. For example, the most commonly recognized companies formed in Page County (namely, Company K of the Tenth Virginia Infantry, Company H of the Thirty-Third Virginia Infantry, Company D of the Seventh Virginia Cavalry, Company E of the Thirty-fifth Battalion Virginia Cavalry, and the Dixie Artillery) had some sort of representation on the pension board. If a veteran or veterans serving on the pension board was/were not familiar with an applicant and his service, they could turn to the local camp of Confederate Veterans (of which, the veterans serving as board members were usually members), and hopefully, somebody in the camp could vouch for the applicant or argue against the applicant’s claim of loyal service.

In the case of James Meadows applying as a former member of the Nineteenth Virginia Heavy Artillery (or his wife applying for a widow’s pension), there was nobody on the pension board or in the Rosser-Gibbons Camp who could accurately attest to his loyalty (nobody else in the county on the board served in the same unit or knew much about the service of James’ unit). The only option, therefore, was to rely on the word of a comrade or someone who could give certain testimony in support of loyal service. It is uncertain, but it is believed that such testimony was pivotal in the approval of Meadows’ application.**

What seems even more remarkable about this is that having difficulty finding “loyal” Confederates in this, the twenty-first century, is really nothing new. Even in the early twentieth century when Confederate Veterans were still around, Frederick T. Amiss (an actual son of a Confederate veteran) struggled with the effort to compile a list of loyal Confederates for proposed plaques that would be mounted in the Confederate Veterans Monument in Luray. He compiled excellent lists of men who served in units from the county, and, with the help of the surviving veterans, was able to establish, in those more well-known companies from the counties, which men were loyal and which ones were not so devoted. Even with the help of the veterans, Amiss was still confronted with a major issue – that of dealing with angry family members when he made the claim that a soldier was anything but a “loyal Confederate.”

But, before digressing too much from the central focus of this article on the Meadows brothers – if brothers William T. and James leave us wondering still where the family stood on support or opposition to the Confederacy, the next best thing in the assessment would be to figure out where the other two brothers stood (not to say however, that, in all cases, all siblings shared the same sentiments).

Mitchell Meadows offers one of the most important pieces of information in the assessment of the sentiments of the Meadows brothers. One set of family stories reveal that Mitchell was “shot and killed during the Civil War.” On the surface one might assume that being shot and killed, Mitchell must have been a soldier. A search of military records does not reveal military service, however, and, considering the efforts of William to remain out of the service, it seems more plausible that Mitchell may have been killed in the act of evading Confederate conscript hunters.

A second story, related to me after my first effort of looking into Mitchell’s story, revealed what I had suspected. Mitchell was taken, at gunpoint, from his home by Confederate conscript hunters. With his hands tied and forced to walk behind a horse on a lanyard, Mitchell was, somehow, able to break away and made a run for it. As the story goes, either when in the act of escaping or after he had made his way back to his house, the conscript men caught up with Mitchell and killed him.

Mitchell’s story, when combined with the story of Henry Meadows gives us an even better glimpse into what may have been the overall sentiments in the Meadows family.

Having “enlisted” on August 8, 1861 in Company L, Ninety-seventh Virginia Militia, Henry “Hiram” Meadows may have been reluctant to serve from the onset. First of all, as a regiment that had existed prior to the war, when the Ninety-seventh Virginia Militia was called into the service of the Confederacy in the summer of 1861, it was not, as some may believe, enrolled with ranks teaming with patriotically motivated volunteers. Rather, the men of the Ninety-seventh who were enrolled were draftees. Of course, that is not to say that all men in the Ninety-seventh were not in favor of the Confederate cause.

In the case of Henry Meadows, he enlisted, but following the First Battle of Manassas, took the opportunity, along with brother William T. Meadows (who had been enlisted on July 22, 1861), to go AWOL on November 4, 1861. They were still absent when the last complete muster roll was filled out for the Ninety-seventh on December 31, 1861. While William held out unsuccessfully against Confederate conscript hunters in Page and Rockingham Counties, Henry opted to leave the militia and head for Pennsylvania, where his fifth brother had moved prior to the war. Though it is unclear exactly when he became a temporary resident of Pennsylvania, by 19 September 1863, he was drafted into the Union army and made a member of Company E, 143rd Pennsylvania Infantry.

Even entering into service, as a draftee in late 1863, “Hiram” Meadows saw extensive service. After leaving Pennsylvania, he was likely one of the 360 recruits who arrived with the new group of regimental recruits in September and October, 1863. Though a notation in his file (“A deserter from Rebel service, not to be assigned to field duty”) made reference to his not being placed in a combat role, it appears that he was eventually placed on the firing line along with the rest of the regiment. Within a month of his reporting to the 143rd, he would have been involved in a sharp skirmish with Confederate forces at Haymarket. From November 22 to December 5, the regiment performed railroad guard duty at Manassas, marched to Paoli Mills and finally, after eight months constant campaigning, went into winter quarters at Culpeper on December 27. One can only imagine how odd it must have felt for Meadows being so close to home, but in the occupying army.

Before moving in the spring campaign of 1864, the 143d was assigned to the First Brigade, First Division, Fifth Corps. Once the campaign season opened, the regiment suffered severely at the Wilderness and at Laurel Hill. However, it was in action on the North Anna River where Henry Meadows was wounded in the calf of the right leg on May 23, 1864. Sent first to a Fifth Corps field hospital and then to Emory General Hospital in Washington, D.C., Meadows was later transferred to Newton University General Hospital in Baltimore and eventually McClellan General Hospital in Philadelphia by October. He remained at McClellan Hospital until mustered-out on May 16, 1865 (though the war was already over, the regiment did not actually muster out until August 1865).

After receiving an honorable discharge, Henry Meadows returned to Page County, and on September 7, 1867, married Ardista Breeden (who was born January 1851, a daughter of Wesley Whitfield Breeden and Elizabeth M. Eppard). The couple had more than 10 children – interestingly, the first and last child were seemingly named out of influence from Henry’s service in the Union army – the first was named Columbia Esteline (born about 1869) and the last child was named Ulysses Edgar “Bud” Meadows (born December 24, 1896) – apparently in honor of Ulysses S. Grant. Other children included Crimora, Armetis (born September 19, 1870), Eliza H. (born about 1871), Dolly Francis (born March 19, 1874), William D. (born about 1875), Henry Dorsey (born March 15, 1875), Newman Thomas (born September 12, 1876), Ardista D. (born October 7, 1878), Wesley Monroe Cameron (born June 20, 1881), Emma “Annie” C. (born February 24, 1885), Josephine F. (born June 1890), and Virginia C. (born October 21, 1892).

In October 1889, Henry Meadows applied for (application #732108; certificate #525060) and was awarded (on June 27, 1890) a pension of $6.00 per month for disabilities caused by his wound and an injury to his eye (while in action on May 23, 1864, a ball splintered a limb of a tree and the splinters entered his eye). He was dropped from the pension rolls on March 14, 1895, on the grounds that he was not ratably disabled under the act of 1890. He filed again on July 17, 1890, but was rejected on May 27, 1902 because the government noted that he had “rendered voluntary service in the Confederate army.” Apparently it took some time to clear his record of “voluntary Confederate service” and by 1912 he was once again receiving a pension. By 1918, Henry Meadows was receiving $38 per month for his pension. Henry Meadows died on December 10, 1919 and was buried somewhere near his home in Jollett Hollow.

Henry and Ardista Breeden Meadows

Story courtesy of Robert Moore. Used here with permission. Photo of Henry and Ardista courtesy of Mr. Larry Lamb.

**Correction: I believe that, the way in which this is written, does suggest that James Meadows may have applied for a pension in the 1920s or 30s. James Meadows applied for a Confederate pension in 1904 (age 77, living in Jollett Hollow). Certainly, at the time of his application, there were fellow veterans alive who could attest to his faithfulness to duty as a soldier in the Confederate army. Regretfully, I do not recall who signed as a comrade (it’s been nearly 20 years since I last went through every single Confederate pension application from Page County), but the signature of a comrade from the same unit attesting to his service would be an indication that he did serve faithfully. Specifically, I’m saying this means that he served faithfully, but that does not clarify that nature of his becoming part of the Confederate army or his sentiments in regard to the Confederacy. By nature of being part of a unit that was formed neither in Page or Rockingham County, it does indicate that he was conscripted, perhaps forcibly, from his home (which, in 1860, was in Waverlie). This seems supported by the stories about James’ siblings. Most men evaded forcible conscription by beating the conscription hunters to the punch, so to speak. Specifically, if a man joined prior to conscript hunters coming to the residence and taking a man away, he could at least pick the unit in which he served. This usually meant enlisting in a unit in which he knew other family, neighbors, and friends to be serving.

The Nueces Massacre and the “Great Hanging at Gainesville” (Texas)

Thanks to Greg Rowe and his comment on my blog, for making me aware of the story of the Nueces Massacre. Information about this event of August 10, 1862 can be found on this webpage.

Another story of Southern Unionists in Texas comes from the The Handbook of Texas Online. This particular story is about an event known as the “Great Hanging at Gainesville.”

Incidentally, The Handbook of Texas has this definition of Unionism, focusing mostly on what it meant to be a Unionist in Texas.

It’s probably also worthy of mention that there is a link to portions of the book, Texas Divided: Loyalty and Dissent in the Lone Star State, available through Google Books.