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This page is part of The Georgia GenWeb Project a AHGP Project and is hosted by USGENNET |
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Confederate Veteran Misc
Confederate Veteran, Vol. V, No. 8, Nashville, Tenn., August, 1897. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ORIGIN OF THE "CONQUERED BANNER" Unknown Perhaps no poem ever touched and thrilled the hearts of the people of the South as did the " Conquered Banner," by Father Ryan. It came from the heart of the poet at the time when the Southland stood in grief and in untold sorrow. Though his face wore a serious and almost sad aspect, he dearly loved to gather children about him, as he seldom spoke to older people. Ile always held that little children were angels and walked with God, and that it was a privilege for a priest to raise his hand and give spotless childhood a blessing, writes "Aquila," in the Colorado Catholic. It was several years ago that "Aquila" met with a young lady from the South, who related to him the following beautiful and touching incident in the poet's life. The little story is as follows: "One Christmas - I was then a little girl," says the young lady - "I came to Father Ryan with a bookmark, a pretty little scroll of the 'Conquered Banner,' and begged him to accept it. I can never forget how his lips quivered as he placed his hands upon my head and said (a little kindly remembrance touched him so): 'Call your little sisters, and I will tell them a story about this picture. Do you know, my children,' he said as we gathered about his knee, 'that the "Conquered Banner" is a great poem? I never thought it so,' he continued in that dreamy, far-off way so peculiarly his own; 'but a poor woman who did not have much education, but whose heart was filled with love for the South, thought so, and if it had not been for her this poem would have been swept out of the house and burned up, and I would never have had this pretty book-mark or this true story to tell vou.' " ' O you are going to tell us how you came to write the "Conquered Banner!" ' I cried, all interest and excitement. " 'Yes,' he answered, 'and I am going to tell you how a woman was the medium of its publication.' Then a shadow passed over his faces a dreamy shadow that was always there when he spoke of the lost cause, and he continued: 'I was in Knoxville when the news came that Gen. Lee had surrendered at Appomattox Court-House. It was night, and I was sitting in my room in a house where many of the regiment of which I was chaplain were quartered, When an old comrade came in and said to me: "All is lost, Gen. Lee has surrendered." I looked at him. I knew by his whitened face that the news was too true. I simply said, "Leave me," and he went out of the room. I bowed my head upon the table and wept long and bitterly. When a thousand thoughts came rushing through my brain. I could not control them. That banner was conquered; its folds must be furled, but its story had to be told. We were very poor, my dear little children, in the days of the war. I looked around for a piece of paper to give expression to the thoughts that cried out within me. All that I could find was a, piece of brown wrapping paper that lay on the table about an old pair of shoes that a friend sent me. I seized this piece of paper and wrote the Conquered Banner " Then I went to bed, leaving the lines there upon the table. The next morning the regiment was ordered away, and I thought no more of the lines written in such sorrow and desolation of spirit on that fateful night. What was my astonishment a few weeks later to see them appear above my name in a Louisville paper! The poor woman who kept the house in Knoxville had gone, as she afterward told me, into the room to throw the piece of paper into the fire, when she saw that there was something written upon it. she said that she sat down and cried, and, copying the lines, she sent them to a newspaper in Louisville. And that was how the "Conquered Banner" got into print. That is the story of this pretty little scroll you have painted for me.' " ' When I get to be a woman,' I said, ' I am going to write that story.' " 'Are you? ' he answered. 'Ah! it is dangerous to be a writer, especially for women; but if you are determined, let me give you a name,' and he wrote on a piece of paper 'Zona.' 'It is an Indian name,' he said in explanation, 'and it means a snowbird-to keep your white wings unsullied. .i woman should always be pure, and every mother should teach her boys to look upon a woman as they would upon an altar.' " Thus was the incident related to me by my Southern friend. Many and many a time in the hurry and bustle of the noisy world the words of the gentle poet-priest came back to me, and in writing this little sketch of how it was through a woman's thoughtfulness that the great Southern epic was given to the world I can not refrain from repeating this little talk, which was the outgrowth of this story, and which might prove a help anal a benediction in many a woman's life. No inspiring column marks the spot where the priest, patriot, and poet is sleeping, but his words still live in the hearts of the people, and the regard, the respect, the high esteem he held for woman bespeaks the purity of his soul. Rest there, saddest, tenderest, most spiritual poet heart that has sought our hearts and breathed in them a music that the lapse of years can not still, sleep and rest on! The visions that came to the mind of the priest as he I walked down the valley of silence, down the dim, voiceless valley alone," are living on, for they are prayers. Upon reading this account of the origin of the " Conquered Banner," Mrs. J. William Jones (wife of our Chaplain-General, and a devoted Confederate from that day in the early spring of 1861 when she buckled her husband's armor upon him and sent him to the front down to the present day) has written the following lines: HOW FATHER RYANS CONQUERED BANNER WAS RESCUED FROM OBLIVION. He shared their every hardship, as he did their hopes and joys, Inspiring faith and courage as he cheered those ragged boys. Our soldier-priest and poet stood unflinching at his post, Till the news of Lee's surrender told the story: ' All is lost." He could bare his breast to bayonet, be torn with shot and shell: With victorious, tattered banner, he could bleed and die so well. But when those dreadful words, "All lost," broke o'er him like a flood. His very heart seemed Weeping, and his tears all stained with blood. How illy could he bear it all, so sudden was the blight, glut for the poet's genius, which filled his soul with light. He sought in vain material his burning words to give To future generations, and to hearts where he would live. A crushed brown paper on the floor served then his purpose well For though it seemed a conquered cause, he must its story tell. He wrote it out and fell asleep: next morn thought of it not. New troubles filled the poet's heart his poem was forgot. The morning dawned: that broken priest, but soldier never Was gone, but left, all blurred with tears that paper on the floor. A woman, loving well our cause, found, and its folds unfurled, The "Conquered Banner," and it floats unconquered to the world. At last he bivouacs in peace: no monument stands guard To point us where the poet-priest sleeps sweetly 'neath the sod His glorious rhythmic poems rare a monument will stand; He was its architect, and built both gracefully and grand: Miller School, Va., August 9, 1897. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- THE POEM AS IT WAS WRITTEN. The "Conquered Banner" has been frequently published and recited, and is familiar to all, and yet we deem it appropriate that we should reproduce it in connection with the beautiful story of its origin: Furl that Banner, for 'tis weary, Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary; Furl it, fold it, it is best; For there's not a man to wave it, And there's not a sword to save it, And there's not one left to lave it In the blood which heroes gave it, And its foes now scorn and brave it -- Furl it, hide it -- let it rest. Take that banner down -- 'tis tattered; Broken is its staff and shattered; And the valiant hosts are scattered Over whom it floated high. Oh! 'tis hard for us to fold it, Hard to think there's none to hold it, Hard that those who once unrolled it Now must furl it with a sigh. Furl that Banner! Furl it sadly -- Once ten thousands hailed it gladly, And ten thousands wildly, madly, Swore it should forever wave, Swore that foeman's sword should never Hearts like theirs entwined dissever, Till that flag should float forever O'er their freedom or their grave. Furl it! for the hands that grasped it, And the hearts that fondly clasped it, Cold and dead are lying low: And that Banner, it is trailing, While around it sounds the wailing Of its people in their woe. For, though conquered, they adore it, Love the cold, dead hands that bore it, Weep for those who fell before it, Pardon those who trailed and tore it, And, oh! wildly they deplored it, Now to furl and fold it so. Furl that Banner! true 'tis gory, Yet 'tis wreathed around with glory, And 'twill live in song and story, Though its folds are in the dust; For its fame on brightest pages, Penned by poets and by sages, Shall go sounding down the ages, Furl its folds though now we must, Furl that Banner, softly, slowly, Treat it gently -- it is holy -- For it droops above the dead; Touch it not -- unfold it never, Let it droop there, furled forever, For its people's hopes are dead!
Confederate Veteran, Vol. V, No. 9, Nashville, Tenn., September, 1897. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- THE BATTLE OF NEW HOPE CHURCH B. L. Ridley, Murfreesboro, Tenn It was the beautiful afternoon of May 25, 1864, when that noted battle of New Hope Church, in the famous Dalton-Atlanta campaign, was fought. The memory of it is peculiarly interesting to me, because it marks an epoch in the history of Stewart's Division that is pointed to as a memorial of heroic valor, just as Cleburne's men point to Ringgold and Cheatham's to near Kennesaw. Gen. Thomas, commanding the Army of the Cumberland, was moving from Burnt Hickory for Dallas on three roads, his object being to flank Johnston from Altoona Hills. Sherman ordered Hooker's Corps in advance, three divisions strong, to make a bold push to secure the strategic point known as New Hope Church, where three roads met from Acworth, Marietta, and Dallas. Sherman says: "Here a hard battle was fought. Gen. Hooker was unable to drive the enemy from these roads, but he did drive them to New Hope Church." The latter sentence in Gen. Sherman's report is calculated to mislead, as only a force of skirmishers was driven to our lines. Stewart's division never gave back an inch, but stood there from 5 P.M., for three hours, and whipped Hooker's entire corps, three lines deep. As the advancing line would break we could only greet their departure with a yell before another line would come. our division had just reached New Hope, and was resting, when Gen. Johnston rode up and called for Gen. Stewart. He told us that the enemy were "out there" just three or four hundred yards, to "throw out skirmishers and put the division in line," and to tell Gen. Stewart that if the line should break we would lose Stevenson's Division, back of us on that road. As quick as it could be done, the division, composed of Stovall's Georgia Brigade, Clayton's and Baker's Alabamians, Gibson's Louisianians, Brown's Tennesseeans, and a brigade of Stevenson's Division, just arrived, were placed in line. Soon Gen. Hooker rushed upon us. He must have lost heavily, for the mortality from our view was frightful. He reported his total loss that evening of killed and wounded at sixteen hundred and sixty-five, and that he had not been able to recover the dead between the lines. Gen. Stewart's report, taken from the "Rebellion Records," states: " on Wednesday evening, May 25, being in line of battle near New Hope Church-Baker's Brigade on the right, Clayton's in the center, Stovall's on the left, Gibson in reserve, except Austin's Battalion and the Sixteenth Louisiana, under Col. Lewis, who were in front as skirmishers- the enemy, after firing a few shells, advanced and attacked along our entire front. Baker's and Clayton's men had piled up a few logs; Stovall's Georgians were without any defense. The entire line received the attack with great steadiness and firmness, every man standing at his post. The force opposed to us was reported by prisoners to be Hooker's Corps of three divisions, and their loss was stated at from three to five thousand. Eldridge's Battalion of Artillery, consisting of Stanford's, Olliver's, and Fenner's Batteries -sixteen guns-was admirably posted, well served, and did great execution. They had forty-three men and forty-four horses killed and wounded. Our position was such that the enemy's fire, which was very heavy, passed over the line to a great extent, and that is why our own loss was not greater. The calm determination of the men during this engagement of two and one-half or three hours deserves all praise. The enemy's advance seemed to be three lines of division front without artillery. No more persistent attack or determined resistance was anywhere made. Not being allowed to advance and charge, we did not get possession of the ground occupied by the enemy, who intrenched, and during the two following days kept up a severe, galling skirmish fire, from which we suffered considerably, especially losing a number of valuable officers." Eldridge's Battalion of Artillery is said to have fired fifteen hundred and sixty rounds in that three hours' fight; but Hooker was more disastrously worsted by us than our Gen. Breckinridge could have been in his fatal charge against fifty-one pieces of artillery at Murfreesboro. When the division found that New Hope was the key to the movement and that their break would cause the loss of Stevenson's Division it was the grandest spectacle to see their heroism. The spirit of chivalry displayed by that impregnable line furnished an example for Southern manhood to point to. Like surging waves against the beach, line after line vanished when "our angry rifles spat their fire and hungry cannon belched their flame." Stewart's old roan was seen all along the line. His quiet way enlisted the love of the division. They begged him to get back, fearing he might be killed, but he rode along as unconcerned as ever. Gen. Johnston sent to know if reenforcements were wanted. The reply was: "My own troops will hold the position." And they did. An episode connected with the battle of New Hope brought sorrow and tears to the old division and sympathy from the Army of Tennessee after the fight. In Fenner's Louisiana Battery three brothers handled one gun. The oldest was rammer. He was shot down, and the second brother took his place. In a short time he was shot down, and the third brother took his place, when shortly he was shot, but stood there till a comrade came to relieve him. A beautiful poem was written concerning this in war times. I wish so much that you could reproduce it through the VETERAN. The Yanks said that we carried our breastworks with us. On Friday evening, the 27th, at New Hope, after our fight of the 25th, when the enemy tried to flank us on the right, another heartrending scene of death and destruction took place. Granbery and Lowry, of Cleburne's Division, met the flank movement, and in one volley left seven hundred and seventy Yankees to be buried in one pit. Had a Tamerlane been there, a pyramid of human skulls could have been erected at New Hope. Lieut. R. C. Stewart and I went the next evening to see the dead in front of Granbery and Lowry's line. Had Ahmed, the Turkish butcher, seen it, he would have been appalled at the sacrifice. Sherman himself winced when he said it was "all a failure," while the name of Joe Johnston still loomed up a tower of strength to his army. This was a part of the fourteen hundred that Gen. O. O. Howard says Woods's Division alone lost. I have so often thought of two little boys that we saw among the dead Federals. They appeared to be about fourteen years old, and were exactly alike. Their hands were clasped in death, with "feet to the guns and face to the sky." Although they were enemies, my heart melted at the idea that the little boys must have been twin brothers, and in death's embrace their spirits had taken flight away from mother and home in the forefront of battle. The grape-vine in our army on the evening of the 25th, after the battle, was that Stewart had annihilated '-Fighting Joe" Hooker, once the commander of the v Army of the Potomac, and on the 27th Pat Cleburne had hardly left any of Woods's Division to tell the tale, and that old Joe Johnston was still happy over his game of chess with Sherman. The staff moved up and down Stovall's line during the fight, cheering the men, when Lieut. Mathews, volunteer aid, received a shot in the left wrist. Strange to say, we found that night that Dr. Thornton had taken out the ball just under the armpit. It had struck the bone and followed up to the shoulder. On returning home after the surrender I came through New Hope battle-field, and when I saw the trees literally embedded with shot and shell I wondered how it was possible for any human being to get out of that battle alive. Between the dead-lines I recalled the seething mass of quivering flesh, the dead piled upon each other, and the groans of the dying. And now, after thirty-three years, when I recall the experiences of the Dalton-Atlanta campaign, the sudden and unlooked for attack upon us at New Hope, and the determination with which Gen. Stewart's command so successfully met it, I can see "Old Joe" and the Army of Tennessee happy, Stevenson's Division saved, the strategic point held, Sherman baffled, Hooker's Corps of three divisions whipped in a square fight by the artillery and three brigades who bore the brunt, and Alexander P. Stewart, the genius of the battle of the 25th, and Patrick Cleburne and Frank Cheatham, the heroes of the 27th. Confederate Veteran, Vol. V, No. 10, Nashville, Tenn., October, 1897. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- HE WAS A HERO IF A PAUPER Hon. J. L. McLaurin, of South Carolina, in a speech to Confederate Veterans, said: In the battle of Gettysburg a stalwart lad from Darlington, S. C., was bravely advancing in the face of a hot fire when a shot tore off his first finger. An officer ordered him to the rear. "No, sir," was his reply; "they will call me a coward if I go back for that." A moment later a piece of shell took his arm off clear and clean above the elbow. A comrade caught him, and the poor fellow said: "I will go back now, but I would rather lose my arm than to be called a coward." Two weeks ago there was a death in the poorhouse. The bed was hard, the walls bare, the wan face cold and still, while across the breast was pinned the armless sleeve of a pauper's coat. The heroic soul of Henry Miller had winged its flight to God, far beyond the reach of want and ingratitude. Confederate Veteran, Vol. V, No. 10, Nashville, Tenn., October, 1897. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- DEAD AT NEW HOPE CHURCH Robert Howe, Orlando, Fla In the September VETERAN there is published all interesting account of the fight at New Hope Church, May 25, 1864, wherein, among other Confederate troops, was Fenner's Louisiana Battery. Comrade Ridley asks that you reproduce the poem written about that time concerning the incident regarding the Bridgens brothers, of Fenner's Battery. I have a collection of poems called "War Flowers," by John Altgustin, published just after the war, in which is the poem referred to. I enclose a copy, with the note prefixed to it in the book. In this connection I correct a misunderstanding of Comrade Ridley. These brothers. were not all shot. One was killed and one wounded; the third was unhurt. I was a sergeant in Fenner's Battery and in charge of the gun referred to at that time. Corp. Brunet was gunner at one of the other guns of the battery. Two of the brothers were working at this gun, at the trail, while the third brother was attached to the gun as an extra man. Private R. A. Bridgens was soon killed. The second brother was then severely wounded by a shot in the thigh, when I called for the third brother to take his place, which he did promptly, but passed through the fight unhurt. You will note that the poem speaks of but two killed, Corp. Brunet and Private R. A. Bridgens. The poem is as follows: TO OUR DEAD AT NEW HOPE CHURCH. Corp. W. H. Brunet and Private R. A. Bridgens They sleep the deep sleep 'neath the sanctified sod Made holy with patriot gore; There are resting for aye in the bosom of God. The bugle will wake them no more. No more will they thunder their wrath on the foes, Nor smile on their friends as of yore: By honor's proud voice they were lulled to repose, Their knell was the fierce battle roar. One died---he had sighted his gun ere he fell, That round was the corporal's last: His soul on the canister rushed with a yell, And scattered the foe as it passed. None braver in battle, in camp none more kind, On the march and bivouac none so gay; Let him rest, in the hearts of his friends he's enshrined, And God freedom's debt w ill repay. Another was tending the trail---Came the shot And buried itself in his head--- His brother stretched out the pale corpse---murmured not And stern, took the place of the dead. He also was struck, but unmoved he remained; At his post like a statue he stood, Till his third brother came on the ground, crimson-stained By the flow of his own kindred blood. 'Twas then the young Spartan, on giving his place To the last of the heroic three, Said, "Brother," then looking the dead in the face "Give them one for revenge and for me." No more need we look in dead history's page, Our souls with devotion to fire, For our eyes have beheld in this country and age How heroes and freemen expire. All honor and fame to the good and the brave The dead of our patriot band. The martyrs who perished their country to save At Liberty's welcome command. Kennesaw Ridge, June 16, 1864. Confederate Veteran, Vol. V, No. 11, Nashville, Tenn., November, 1897. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- WOUND OF SAMUEL A. ERWIN Capt. A. B. Hill, Memphis, Tenn All soldiers who saw regular field service and participated in many battles from 1861 to 1865 can no doubt recall some peculiar and wonderful wounds received by the soldiers, recovery from which seemed almost miraculous. This one came under my own observation, and I have been reminded of it many times since by seeing the person, who is still living and in good health. Samuel A. Erwin, a member of Company G. Fifty-First Tennessee Infantry, was shot with a Minie ball about noon on the first day of the battle of Chickamauga (September 19, 1863) between and a little above the eyes, from which he lost the sight of one eye. He is still living, with the ball in his head, a little under and almost touching the brain. His home is in Tipton County, not more than twenty-five miles from the city of Memphis. I was captain commanding the company, and saw him when struck, and believed he was fatally wounded. We were forced to fall back, and he was captured by the Federals. He heard the surgeon say: "Well, we need not bother with that fellow; he is done for." Erwin was rescued by us on Sunday evening, and our surgeons made about the same comment on his condition; consequently it was more than two days before he received treatment. Then the swelling and inflammation were so great that the ball could not be extracted. It might have been taken out at first. Afterward the doctors-W. E. Rogers, Frank Rice, and other eminent surgeons-held a consultation and concurred against an attempt to remove the ball. Mr. Erwin has suffered a great deal from headache at times; otherwise he has experienced no inconvenience from carrying around the Yankee lead. Confederate Veteran, Vol. V, No. 12, Nashville, Tenn., December, 1897.. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- WITH GENERAL A. S. JOHNSTON AT SHILOH Col. George Tithe Baylor So much has been said by the prominent commanders on both sides of the fierce and bloody struggle at Shiloh that it may seem presumptuous for one who was only a lieutenant at the time to attempt to throw any light on the scene; nor do I pretend to give a full account of what transpired- but as I was senior aide-de-camp to Gen. Johnston, and with him from the time he left Columbus, Ky., until his death, and during that time acted as his secretary, even copying his letters to President Davis, I think what I have to say may be of interest to the numerous Albert Sidney Johnston camps and all others. I write from memory; yet, after a lapse of thirty-five years those events are vividly recalled. The impressions left by this deadly struggle-between people of the same name and blood, opposed in internecine strife, each side actuated by love of country and of causes that seemed more dear than life-are not easily forgotten. After Gen. Johnston reached Corinth we were very busy organizing the commands that came from So many different points into brigades, divisions, and corps. This was Gen. Bragg's forte. On the 4th of April, 1862 (Friday), we rode out from Gen. Johnston's headquarters at Corinth and took the road for Pittsburg Landing, where we knew Gen. Grant's army lay. Gen. Johnston talked little of his intentions, but he had said at the breakfast-table that he was "going to hit Grant, and hit him hard." His staff was composed of Gen. McKall, chief adjutant-general; Gen. William Preston, Col. A. P. Brewster, Capt. Nat Wickliffe, Majs. Dudley Hayden and Calhoun Brenham, assistants- Maj. Gilmer, chief engineer; Majs. Mumford and O'EIara, voluntary aids; Maj. Albert Smith, chief quartermaster; Capt. Leigh Wickham, assistant quartermaster- Lieut. Thomas Jack, junior aid; and mvself, senior aid. Col. Brewster, Lieut. Jack, and I were of Texas. When we rode off Gen. Bragg and staff and Gen. Beauregard and staff joined us, so we formed quite a cavalcade. When we reached the troops we found them lining the sides of the road. They had been cautioned to keep silent, but they knew their commanders and pressed forward. We reined up on the crest of the hill overlooking the field of Shiloh, and Gen. Johnston spoke encouragingly to the men about him, enjoining them to "be cool to-morrow, and take good aim at their belts." We pressed on by a log house on the right, and dismounted in a wood just beyond. While we were getting the troops in position night came on, and a council of war was held in Gen. Johnston's tent. Among those present were Gens. Bragg, Beauregard, Polk, Hardee, and Breckinridge, and quite a number of their respective staffs. I heard each opinion as it was given of the course that should be pursued, and all spoke hopefully of the morrow. Only one, Gen. Beauregard, uttered a doubt---and he the bravest of the brave. His words were strangely impressed upon me, because of their difference from the others. He said: "In the struggle to-morrow we shall be fighting men of our own blood, Western men, who understand the use of firearms. The struggle will be a desperate one, and if we drive them to the brink of the river and they make a last determined stand there, our troops may be repulsed and our victory turned to defeat." I believe these words account for the order to retire on Sunday at nightfall, when we had the victory in our hands. The battle has created a great deal of dispute and much criticism that was unjust to commanders of both armies. Those who did not experience it could hardly arrive at equitable conclusions. The only reason why Grant's army was not destroyed or captured was that the rain of Friday night prevented our getting our army into line of battle and making the attack at daylight Saturday morning,. The impassable condition of the roads prevented Gen. Breckinridge bringing up his artillery. After a battle is over any one who has had any experience can plan an easy victory. All we had to do was to arrange an order of battle, let the artillery stick in the mud-for it was a battle of small arms-and we could soon have had all the artillery we wanted from the foe. As it was, we captured entire batteries. It has always been a matter of wonder to me how the Federal army lay in camp all Friday evening near enough for us to hear their drums beat and fail to discover our proximity, especially as there were nearly fifty thousand of us (forty-six thousand, I think), and some of our overly zealous men had brought about a skirmish, in which they used a field-piece, and captured some prisoners. The Terry Rangers had fired their guns to load them afresh, greatly to Gen. Johnston's annoyance, and Col. John A. Wharton was put under arrest for it. That brave officer put in an earnest appeal to the General, saying he "would rather be shot than not allowed to go into the fight," and upon being released did gallant service with the Terry Rangers in the battle. After the meeting at Gen. Johnston's tent Friday evening we had a heavy downpour of rain. Our tent had been stretched so that a path ran diagonally through it, and I was sleeping on the side where it first entered. I had laid down in my clothes, overcoat and all, and, being aroused by the rain, I put out my hand and found the water banking up against the tent. I arose, found a spade, and soon had the path filled and a trench dug that turned the water off from the tent. When I returned to the tent I had a vote of thanks from the staff, and the General spoke in his kind way of the small service. After the rain, which was very heavy, Gen. Johnston called me to him and said: "Lieutenant, I wish you would go to Gen. Beauregard and ask him if we had not better postpone the attack until Sunday, on account of the rain." I started on this errand, and soon found a French sentinel, who knew little English, and the extent of my French was "Beaugar," but it was sufficient to soon put me at the General's tent. I found him still up, although it was past midnight, and delivered Gen. Johnston's message. He reflected a moment, then said: "Tell Gen. Johnston that time is of such importance I think we had better commence the attack at daylight." Why we did not has been explained. The condition of the roads, the utter impossibility of getting raw troops into position in a given time (except from the extreme front under a hot fire to the extreme rear, which is generally done with promptness and despatch), and for many reasons the day was so far advanced before order was obtained that the attack was postponed until Sunday morning, April 6. Gen. Grant said, in his article to the Century magazine of February, 1895, "It was a battle of ifs" and I am convinced that if we had begun the attack on the 5th, instead of the 6th, of April, if Gen. Johnston had not been killed on the afternoon of the 6th, and of Don Carlos Buell had not come up at all, why there would have been no "ifs" about it; but the chances are that Gen. Grant would have shared the fate of our own gallant leader and the horrors of the war would probably have been prolonged for several years. But to return to the incidents of the battle. A young lieutenant was captured on the 5th, and Gen. Johnston turned him over to me. We were both young, and talked freely. I said to him: "You Yankees are very determined in trying to deny us the right to regulate our own state affairs." He flared up at the word "Yankees," and replied: "I want you to understand that I am no Yankee, I am a Western man, and fighting for the Union." That evening there was an informal meeting of corps commanders, and, as the weather had cleared up, it was decided to attack at daylight. While breakfasting at dawn we heard the crack of skirmishers' guns, so, hurrying the meal, we mounted, and were soon on our way to the front. When we drew near the reserves under Breckinridge we found the brave Kentuckians pressing forward, almost on the heels of the first line. The front by this time was hard at it, and the rattling fire was a constant roar. Gen. Johnston rode straight to the front, and we were soon where the bullets were singing around us and where we could see the Federal tents. Here I discarded my overcoat, and as I was riding by the General's side he said to me: "Lieutenant, you had better keep that coat; you will need it before the war is over." I replied that if we won this battle I should get another, and if we didn't, I should probably not need it. This spirit animated the young men of the South at the time. It was "death or victory." Later on we would have preferred "badly crippled or victory." I was wearing a dark-blue coat, and Dr. David Yandell, seeing the danger that it subjected me to, insisted that I should exchange with him. Many a poor fellow during the day, seeing the surgeon's stripes, hailed me with: doctor, can't you do something for me?" When we struck the line, some hundred yards from the first tents, the Federals were making a fight for their grub and tarpaulins, and there was a slight break in our lines. The General and staff rode right through the gap, and just then Gen. Hindman passed in front of us, going to the left. His horse was at full gallop, his long hair streaming out behind him, and he was waving his cap over his head and cheering the men on. I shall never forget what a picture of daring and courage he was. Gen. William Preston turned to the right, and, galloping down the line, called the attention of the troops to Gen. Johnston. As they recognized him a cheer went up, and a charge made at double-quick brought us into the Federal camp. I never knew what command it was, but they were either surprised or thought we were only joking. There was an old field to the right of the camp, and across it a long row of overcoats and knapsacks, as though they had been in line for inspection and had to hasten to the rear before it was over. We rode through this old field to the right. There was a creel; crossing it in front of the encampment, and we saw the gleam of bayonets and cannon in an old field beyond, where they had rallied. The Second Texas, under Col. Moore, was just west of us, under cover of the creek-bank. Just here the Federals sent a shell over our heads that went into the ground near the line of their own overcoats. I believe all the staff bowed respectfully to this missile, but the General sat as straight as an Indian. Several orders were given by the General, and then we rode toward our right wing, where he gave me the last order that I ever had from him: "Lieutenant, go to Gen. Chalmers, and tell him to sweep round to the left and drive the enemy into the river." I have seen some severe criticisms of this order from the Northern press, who denominated it "barbarous, inhuman," etc.; but there was no such spirit underlying it. It was just such an order as any general would give to impress his men with his own determination to win the battle. On my return I found that the General had moved still farther to the right, and was on a high hill in the rear of this Second Texas regiment, I think. While sitting there we noticed an officer fall, and, riding forward, I found it was Capt. Clark Owens, whom I knew. The General also knew him as a gallant soldier in earlier days in Texas, and was much distressed at his death. Orders were given to the Texas troops to advance, when I asked and received permission to join them in the charge. Col. Benham, whom I had known in San Francisco, also got permission to go. After the charge we rode back to where we had left the General, and learned that he had ridden toward the left again. We took the same direction, riding at a canter, and soon became separated. I was some time on the way, making inquiries here and there, and finally came to a battalion of soldierly looking men, and inquired for their commander. A captain in gray uniform stepped up and said the commander, Maj. Hardcastle, had gone to the front to get orders, as they had evidently been overlooked. I told him that T was aid of Gen. Johnston, and that thev could safely move to the front. I afterward learned that this captain was Robert McNair, once Superintendent of Public Schools of New Orleans. I began to feel uneasy about being so long absent from my general, and, concluding that I should find him where the firing was the heaviest, I rode in just behind the line of battle. Presently I saw an officer galloping toward me, and was glad to recognize Maj. O'Hara, of the General's staff. He, seeing my surgeon's uniform, had ridden straight for me. I asked for Gen. Johnston, and he replied, "He is wounded, and I fear seriously. I am now looking for a surgeon, as well as others of the staff," adding that he was just from the General, and had left him in an awful hot place. I went to him at once, and the Major, hoping that a surgeon had already been found, rode back with me. After riding some distance we turned to the right, crossed a ravine just above a log cabin on the south bank, and a short distance beyond it found the General and staff in a depression that emptied into the branch. No surgeon had yet been found, and the group gathered around the dying General was a sad one. As I dismounted I saw that a stream of blood had run from the General's body some six or eight feet off and ended in a dark pool. Around were gathered, as well as I can now recall them, Gen. William Preston, Gov. Isham G. Harris (who acted as assistant adjutant-general during the battle, and rendered most valuable aid, especially among the Tennessee troops), Maj. Albert Smith, Capt. Leigh Wickham, Maj. O'Hara, Lieut. Jack, and myself. Gen. Preston was kneeling and holding Gen. Johnston's head. Becoming cramped with the position, he asked me to relieve him, which I did. As I looked upon his noble face I thought of the dauntless warrior who had ridden out of camp that morning so full of life and hope, his face alight with the excitement of approaching battle, whose very presence was an inspiration to those under its magic influence, the personification of Southern chivalry. I also thought of the gentle wife on the golden sands of the Pacific, whose heart would be pierced by the same bullet that brought him death; and, leaning over him, I asked: "General, do you know me?" My tears were falling in his face, and his frame quivered for a moment, then he opened his eyes, looked me full in the face, seeming to comprehend, and closed them again. He died as a soldier must like to die: at the moment of victory and surrounded by loving comrades in arms. There was not a dry eye in that sad group, and Gen. William Preston sobbed aloud. He said, as though to explain it: "Pardon me, gentlemen; you all know how I loved him." After a while I was relieved by Lieut. Jack, and, at the request of Gen. Preston, started to look for an ambulance. I rode for some distance, but, failing to find one, turned back, thinking some of the others might have been more successful. While returning I met one of Gen. Bragg's staff, who had been sent to tell Gen. Johnston that they had carried everything on the left. This officer's grief on hearing of Gen. Johnston's fate was another tribute of love and admiration that the great man aroused in all who came in contact with him. When I reached the spot where I had left the General's body I found that it had been removed, and followed the tracks of the ambulance back to camp. Gov. Harris and Capt. Wickham told me, concerning his death-wound, that the General had led in a charge and received a wound that severed the artery below the right knee and just above the boot-top. The wound seemed to have been inflicted by a navy revolver or buckshot. The sole of the boot also was cut by a minie ball and a spent shot had struck him under the shoulder blade. To an inquiry from Gov. Harris after the charge he replied that he had been wounded, but that it was "only a scratch." He then gave an order to Gov. Harris, who returned after its execution to find him pale and faint. He asked if the General had been wounded again, and was assured that he had not, but that the wound was more serious than he had first thought, and he would ride to the rear and look for a surgeon. Gov. Harris and Capt. Wickham rode back with him, but before they had proceeded far the General was reeling in his saddle, and the Governor sprang to the ground and caught him in his arms as he fell. He was then carried to the depression in the ravine before mentioned, where he died. I have seen pictures of this spot, but none of them bear the slightest resemblance to it. We were among tall post-oak trees, and, unless these have been cut, I believe I could now find the exact spot. To return to the condition of our men and the enemy at sunset. In 1863 there was in my brigade a Lieut.-Col. Alonzo Ridley, of Col. Phillips' Regiment, formerly sheriff of Los Angeles County, Cal., who had come across the plains with Gen. Johnston. At Bowling Green he received a captain's commission, and was given authority to select from the soldiers a company to act as scouts. He told me that late in the evening at the battle of Shiloh he rode up on the bank of the Tennessee River, opposite one of the gunboats. He concluded that he would give them a round, as his men were armed with Enfield rifles, so he formed them in line and fired a volley. Every man on deck of the gunboat disappeared in a moment, and, to his utter astonishment, a cloud of bluecoats swarmed up from under the river-bank, holding up their hands, and saying: " we surrender." The stream continued to crowd up the hill, until he was afraid they would disarm his company, so he marched off with what he could guard. Col. Ridley still lives near Phoenix, Ariz. In El Paso, Tex., a few years ago, I met a Mr. Burton, who belonged to a Tennessee regiment engaged in this battle, and he told me that when his regiment had nearly reached the brink of the river they were halted, but, moved by curiosity, he walked forward and looked over at the crowd. He said he had never seen such a sight-officers, men, mules, horses, cannon, all mixed together, no one paying the least attention to orders. He even saw one officer on a stump waving his sword over his head and trying to rally his men, but none of them heeded, and one Federal soldier, who stood near enough for Mr. Burton to hear his words said: wouldn't he make a daisy stump speaker?' This shows how utterlv all discipline or thought of resistance was at an end. Now, let us suppose that one Tennessee regiment had advanced and fired a volley into this demoralized crowd. What would have been the result? I am convinced, with Josh Billings, that "there is a great deal of human nature in mankind," and I am sure that a panic started there would soon have spread to the brave men who were making such a desperate resistance on our left. A lot of men stampeded have no more sense than so many Texas "long-horns," and I have seen them stampeded by a cotton-tail rabbit. I am convinced that Gens. Grant and Sherman and a good many more who have expressed the same opinion were sadly mistaken in thinking that the battle of the 7th could have been gained without Gen. Buell's army. We knew that he had arrived during the night, and it was believed that he had fifty thousand fresh men. The moral effect of this is not hard to determine: it depressed our men and encouraged the Federals. Gen. Grant, in his account of the battle of Shiloh, says: "Nothing occurred in his brief command of an army to prove or disprove the high estimate that had been placed upon Gen. Johnston's military abilities." When the order came to the Confederates to fall back they were flushed with victory and ready for a final struggle. Hardly any Federal soldier in that army can seriously doubt what would have been the result of such a charge at sunset, with Buell a day's march away. That night I lay on the ground by the cot which held Gen. Johnston's body and listened to the beating of the drums as Buell's army arrived. I was born at Fort Gibson, and have lived nearly all my life with the army. tl he notes of drum, fife, and bugle are as familiar to me as my own voice, and as I noted the tones of the different drums of regiments I knew that it meant a death-struggle for us on the morrow. It was generally believed by our army that if we could not defeat Grant before Buell came up, we would have to fall back to Corinth on the 7th. On the morning of the 7th I rode to Shiloh church, Gen. Beauregard's headquarters, to ask for permission to accompany the body of Gen. Johnston from the field and for instructions. He told me to say to any Confederate commanders or soldiers that I saw that the enemy were making a stand at only one point, an(l he expected to capture them that morning; he also asked me to direct them to the point of the heaviest firing. This was about daylight. As I left him he kindly offered me a position on his staff if I returned. I have never been able to determine whether Gen. Beauregard really believed there would only be a slight struggle to gain the victory or whether he only hope 1 to encourage the men- but no one can say, brilliant as had been their dash of the day before, that it was eclipsed by their dogged determination on the 7th, when they believed they were fighting the defeated army of the day before, reenforced by fifty thousand. Two acts of Gen. Grant have endeared him to the entire South: the one was his conduct at Appomattox, when our Lee surrendered his broken-down, half starved men, and the other was the stand he took when fanatical abolitionists wanted to hang President Davis. These things did more to conquer-or to pacify-the South than all the powder that was wasted from Sumter to the Rio Grande. And there was one act in the short career of Gen. Johnston that if more generally known would bring to him the tender regard of the North: At Shiloh, after a heavy charge, he passed a group of wounded men wearing both blue and gray, and ordered his own surgeon, Dr. David Yandell, to "stop and attend to all alike," saying: "They were our enemies, but are fellow sufferers now." This very care for the wounded soldiers cost him his life; for, had Dr. Yandell been with him when he was wounded, a simple tourniquet or a silk handkerchief twisted with a stick would have stopped the hemorrhage and have saved his life. His staff seemed dazed with the great calamity, and there was no surgeon near to apply the simple bandage. Confederate Veteran, Vol. VI, No. 1 Nashville, Tenn., January, 1898. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CONCERNING THE BATTLE OF SHARPSBURG David E. Johnston, Bluefield, W. Va. In October last, after the lapse of thirty-five years, I visited the battle-field of Sharpsburg in company with Gen. Carman, of the Battle-Field Commission, and Sergt. White, of the Twenty-Fourth Virginia Infantry. Sergt. White and I went mainly to aid Gen. Carman in locating the positions occupied by the Seventh and Twenty-Fourth Virginia Regiments during the battle of the 17th of September, 1862. The plan of that battle by Gen. McClellan was substantially similar to that adopted by Gen. Lee in the opening of the seven days' battles around Richmond. Lee crossed the Chickahominy beyond the Federal right, withholding his center, and as the Federals were driven down the Chickahominy threw forward his right; and so Gen. McClellaur reversing the order of things, crossed the Antietam beyond Lee's left, withholding his center, and, as he pushed back Lee's left, threw forward his left, under Gen. Burnside. Lee's plan, like human plans sometimes do, succeeded; while McClellan's failed. Since my visit I have often thought of doing what every ax-Confederate should do: write something of the part he took and what he saw in the battles in which he was engaged, whereby much of the history of the war between the states might be preserved. In no great battle of that war was the disparity of numbers more marked than in the battle of Sharpsburg, and in none other were there greater prodigies of valor performed by Confederate soldiers. The battle of Sharpsburg was not a necessity on the part of the Confederates, but rather a gratuity. Harper's Ferry had been surrendered to Gen. Jackson early on Monday morning, September I5, and the greater part of the Confederate army was south of the Potomac, while the remainder, immediately under Gen. Lee's personal direction, was concentrated at Sharpsburg, only about three miles from the Potomac River, and had ample time and ways to have crossed over at any time before the morning of the 17th and draw to closer concentration with that portion of the army under Gen. Jackson, as well as to have secured the assistance of several thousand men, who, on account of either sickness or of being barefooted, had been left at Leesburg on our way across the Potomac, but had been sent forward from there to Winchester. Aided by these and on Virginia soil, we should doubtless have gained a great victory instead of having a drawn battle. But is is not my purpose to write a criticism on the battler but more particularly to briefly discuss that portion of it on the extreme right wing of the Confederate army, and in which I was engaged. As to the number engaged on each side, records differ quite materially. Gen. McClellan reported eighty-seven thousand one hundred and sixty-four engaged on the Federal side, and Gen. Lee reported that he had less than forty thousand men engaged. Some Confederate writers have placed the numbers as three to one and some five to three, while on the Federal side it is not generally admitted that such disparity existed. When it is remembered that Gen. Lee's army had fought the seven days' battles around Richmond and the second Manassas and Turner's Gap, in which it sustained heavy losses, it is not surprising that his battalions had been reduced to less than fifty per cent of what they numbered when the series of battles began around Richmond on May 31. At the second battle of Manassas the regiment to which I belonged, the Seventh Virginia Infantry, Kemper's Brigade, lost about thirty-three per cent of its number, together with its colonel, lieutenant-colonel, major, and adjutant, and at the battles of Turner's Gap and Sharpsburg was commanded by Capt. Phil Ashby, of Culpeper County. On the morning of the 14th of September (Sunday) our division, under Gen. Longstreet, was at Hagerstown, Md. About 11 A. M. the long roll was sounded' and we were soon in line and on the march to Turner's Gap, some fourteen miles distant, reaching there about 3 P.M. We marched to the right in the direction of Cox's Gap, and when about half-way up the mountain we turned immediately to the left and into the turnpike road at the gap and moved forward up the mountain to the left of the gap; and on reaching the top we found ourselves face to face with the enemy. On our march from the gap up the mountain we were subjected to a severe shelling from a Federal battery on our right rear, and had one man killed by a shell. We must have reached the mountain-top about 4:30 P.M., and at once became hotly engaged with the enemy, the fight continuing until long after nightfall, when we withdrew to the turnpike and down to Boonsboro. My company (D) lost two killed, several wounded, and was reduced to thirteen muskets, and the regiment to one hundred and seventeen. We continued our march through Boonsboro and Keedysville, crossing the Antietam and reaching Sharpsburg about 10 A. M, on Monday, the 15th. The brigades of Jenkins, G. T. Anderson, part of Toombs's, Garnett's, Drayton's, and ours (Kemper's) were deployed on the range of hills to the east and southeast of Sharpsburg, while Gen. Toombs, with two of the regiments of his brigade, the Second and Twentieth Georgia, and a battery of artillery, was sent to guard a bridge across the Antietam, which was in our front and near our right center. The afternoon of Monday and the whole of Tuesday were spent by the armies in preparation-the one for assault, the other for defense. During all the day of Tuesday we were being shifted about from place to place, never getting far away from our starting-point, and during this marching and countermarching we were subjected to a most unmerciful shelling from the Federal batteries across the river. Gen. J. G. Walker's Division, consisting of two brigades, was withdrawn from the right and sent to the left, and at an early hour on the morning of the 17th Gen. G. T. Anderson's Brigade was also sent to the left, leaving alone Gen. D. R. Jones's Division, composed of Jenkins', Garnett's, Drayton's, Kemper's, and Toombs' Brigades, to hold the right and keep back Burnside's corps of fifteen thousand men. From---or, even before---daylight on the 17th until high noon the battle on the left center and extreme left raged and swayed to and fro, with varying fortunes to the combatants. About noon, or a few minutes thereafter, it was reported that Gen. Burnside's troops were pressing heavily against Gen. Toombs's at the bridge, and the Twenty-Fourth Virginia Regiment, with ours (the Seventh, of Kemper's Brigade), was detached and sent some six hundred yards to the south and right of the brigade, the Twenty-Fourth Regiment halting in an open field some forty yards east of the Harper's Ferry road and just north of a narrow strip of corn which ran from the edge of that road in a southeastern direction and toward the forty-acre corn-field into which the left wing of Harland's Federal Brigade subsequently charged. Our regiment took position at the southeast edge of the narrow strip of corn referred to, and, so far as we knew, we constituted the extreme right of the Confederate army. No other Confederate troops were in sight to our right. Burnside did not succeed in forcing the passage of the bridge until about 1 P.M., or a little later, and then only after he had found a crossing lower down, by which he was enabled to flank Gen. Toombs out of his position in front of the bridge. Toombs retired slowly, fighting all the while, and taking advantage of the shape of the ground to cover his troops from the fire of the enemy's artillery. It was past 3 P.M. when Gen. Burnside's skirmishers appeared in our front, and, meeting the fire of the skirmishers of our brigade, posted in part behind a rail fence at the base of the hill, they staggered, scattered, and fell back out of sight. In a few minutes Burnside's first line, composed, as it seems, of the brigades of Fairchild and Elarland, appeared on our front some five hundred yards away, and our skirmishers opened a rapid fire, which threw more than one of the Federal regiments into some confusion, and their ranks became broken and uneven, but they continued to advance at a rapid pace. At this juncture our regiment, occupying an advanced position, was ordered to fall back some two hundred yards into the Harper's Ferry road, here finding a lodgment behind an old board fence and embankment and just south of the narrow strip of corn. The distance between the left of our regiment and the right of the Twenty-Fourth Virginia was about two hundred yards and that between its left and the Seventeenth Virginia-the right regiment of Kemper's Brigade-was four or five hundred yards. The situation was grave indeed, and the outlook for a successful issue of the battle was most unpromising to us. In all the battles of the war in which I was engaged and they were numerous-never did I feel, not even at Gettysburg, so much solicitude for the safety of our army, for I knew that no help could be expected from our left, as our troops on that part of the field had been fought to exhaustion; and there we stood, our division covering nearly a mile of front and numbering not exceeding two thousand muskets, to engage with a force of fifteen thousand well-equipped and well-Fed men; while we had but little to eat, were almost naked, and many were barefooted (myself among the number). However. with proud, defiant spirits, with our muskets and forty rounds of ammunition, we prepared for the desperate conflict. It was near 4 P.M. when portions of Gen. Rodman's Federal Division crowned the heights, meeting at some points severe resistance. When the leading line of Fairchild's and Harland's Brigades had advanced up the heights in front of Draston's Brigade of two Georgia and one South Carolina regiments and Kemper's First, Eleventh, and Seventeenth Virginia Regiments, they were advanced, and took position behind an old worm fence and opened fire on the advancing line of Federals at fifty or sixty yards with their remnants of three hundred and sixty muskets. The Seventeenth Virginia, commanded by Col. M. D. Corse, was on the right, and numbered b~it fifty-five men and officers, of which seven officers and twenty-four men were killed and wounded and ten captured. Their commander was wounded in the foot and captured. The Federal left overlapped them b, more than a hundred yards. The two left companies of the Eight Connecticut Regiment, of Harland's Brigade, ran over and captured McIntosh's South Carolina Battery, which had been thrown forward on the right of the Seventeenth Virginia without support; and, in fact, it was run o~er before it had time to fire a shot. By the forward rush of portions of Fairchild's and Harland's Brigades the right of Kemper's and Dray-ton's Brigades was broken off and forced back across the Harper's Ferry road into the edge of Sharpsburg. Having returned to the position formerly occupied by our regiment in the Harper's Ferry road, we had placed our guns through the board fence, drawn back the hammers, and stood with fingers on triggers, ready to fire as soon as the enemy emerged from the conl, the eastern edge of which his lines had about reached. While in this position Gen. Toombs, with his brigade at a double-quick, passe~d us, going to our left, and in less than five minutes after his brigade had gotten by Archer's Confederate Brigade moved obliquely across our front, striking the Federal line in flank and rear. Just then we saw another and another Confederate brigade rise to their feet and advance in the same direction. Our batteries opened, Toombs's men poured a volley into Rodman's advancing column that had broken off Kemper's and Drayton's right, then there was a grand, a wild Confederate yell and charge along the whole line, and Archer's gallant Tennesseeans and Alabamians and Branch's North Carolinians and Gregg's South Carolinians and Georgians opened a destructive fire on the flank and rear of Harland's Brigade, and Kemper's, Drayton's, Jenkins's, and Garnett's men returned to the charge, and Burnside's men fled in confusion toward the bank of the Antietam. The fight was over within thirty minutes. In the headlong rush of the Confederates they retook McIntosh's Battery and recaptured Col. Corse. On account of the destructive fire of the Federal batteries across the Antietam the Confederates halted about midway between the line occupied by them when the battle began and the Antietam. Gen. Branch, of North Carolina, was killed just as the charge ended. After night we returned to our brigade and occupied that night and the whole of the next day the same ground we had occupied in the forenoon of the 17th, and gathered up our wounded and buried our dead, as well as such of the Federal dead as lay within our lines also ministering to such of the enemy's wounded as we could reach, even risking our lives to accomplish this. In fact, while making an effort to care for the Federal wounded in our front of was shot dead by one of their sharpshooters. In front of our brigade lay some thirty-five dead men of the Eighth Connecticut Regiment. The flag of the One Hundred and Third New York Regiment, of Fairchild's Brigade, was captured by Lieut. W. W. Athey, of the Seventeenth Virginia. Lieut. Stone and Private Travis Burton, of my company, on the night of the battle, while looking up our wounded, captured a member of the Fourth Rhode Island Regiment, a mere boy. A very interesting story is connected with his capture, but I omit it now. Now, as to question of numbers engaged, Gen. D. R. Jones reports that in his five brigades on the morning of the battle he had about twenty-four hundred men, too high, in my opinion, by four hundred. Gen. A. P. Hill, who had made a rapid march of seventeen miles that morning from Harper's Ferry, reaching the field about 1:30 P.M., reports that his three brigades engaged in the battle numbered two thousand, which would make about four thousand against Burnside's splendid corps of fifteen thousand men. The losses in Kemper's, Drayton's, Toombs's, and part of Jenkins' Brigades was very heavy. The loss in Gen. A. P. Hill's three brigades is reported at three hundred and forty-six. Putting the loss of D. R. Jones's Division at five hundred, we have a total Confederate loss in the fight with Burnside's Corps of eight hundred and forty-six, while the loss in Burnside's Corps was twenty-two hundred and twenty-two. Confederate Veteran, Vol. VI, No. 2 Nashville, Tenn., February, 1898. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- GENERALS GRANT AND ORD Judge Robert L. Rodgers, Historian of the Atlanta Ga. Camp, U. C. V. In the Atlanta Constitution of December 8, 1897, Mrs. Elizabeth Belt gave an account of reconstruction and the readmission of Georgia into the Federal Union. She told how General Grant was affected by an appeal made by a Southern woman, and how he received it as "information in regard to affairs in Georgia," and sent a copy of her letter to the Reconstruction Committee. It contained the usual flavoring of Gen. Grant's "magnanimity" toward Southern soldiers and Southern people. This idea is magnified beyond its proper measure. Let us not detract one iota from Grant's generous acts. Let us remember that President Grant was the general-in-chief of a victorious army of largely superior numbers when he received the capitulation of Gen. Lee. It may be that there was sufficient leniency, but it may be also that Gen. Grant was not alone or superior in his generous terms of surrender. The event was not so sudden as to cause general belief that it was on "the impulse of the moment." There may have been influences behind him which he adroitly utilized to his own personal advantage. He had been in communication by truce with Gen. Lee at least two days and nights, contemplating the surrender. In that time he had evidently conferred with his subordinate generals concerning the coming event, and he was manifestly anxious to crush Lee and his army. Grant was reticent as to his general methods, but his trend indicated his purpose to defeat his adversary by astounding him with unexpected hard blows. He did not fight on the idea of being generous, but to compel surrender. He obtained a reputation for great will force, with a generous, even magnanimous, disposition. His unceasing hatred of Halleck and other generals of the Union army simply shows the true personal character of the man. He was vindictive in spirit, and at times subject to violent outbursts of a cruel temper. This was manifested about a week after the surrender of Gen. Lee. Lincoln had the night before been assassinated. Of course we all know that Gen. Lee and his soldiers had nothing at all to do with that horrible assassination. Gen. Grant knew it as well; yet he flew into a rage, and still desired to "crush the rebellion" by a strong blow upon his vanquished foe after the combat had closed and Lee and our soldiers of the South had gone on parole. The telegraphic order of Gen. Grant and the answer of Gen. Ord demonstrate all that is claimed herein. My attention was recently directed to this by Capt. "Tip" Harrison, a brave Confederate soldier under Gen. Lee. The telegrams tell the whole story: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- WASHINGTON CITY, April 15, 1865, 4 P.M. Maj.-Gen. Ord, Richmond, Va.: Arrest J. A. Campbell, Mayor Mayo, and the members of the old council of Richmond who have not yet taken the oath of allegiance, and put them in Libby Prison. Hold them guarded beyond the possibility of escape until further orders. Also arrest all paroled officers and surgeons until they can be sent beyond our lines, unless they take the oath of allegiance. The oath need not be received from any one who you have not good reason to believe will observe it, and from none who are excluded by the President's proclamation, without authority to do so. Extreme rigor will have to be observed while assassination remains the order of the day with the Rebels. U. S. GRANT, Lieutenant-General. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- General Ord's reply: RICHMOND, VA., April 15, 1865. Gen. U. S. Grant: Cipher despatch directing certain parties to be arrested is received. The two citizens I have seen. They are old, nearly helpless, and I think incapable of harm. Lee and staff are in town among the paroled prisoners. Should I arrest them under the circumstances, I think the rebellion here would be reopened. I will risk my life that the present paroles will be kept, and, if you will allow me to do so, trust the people here, who, I believe, are ignorant of the assassination, done, I think, by some insane Brutus with but few accomplices. Mr. Campbell and Hunter pressed me earnestly yesterday to send them to Washington to see the President. Would they have done so if guilty? Please answer. E. O. C. ORD, Major-General. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF THE UNITED STATES, WASHINGTON, April I5, 1865, 8 P.M Maj.-Gen. Ord, Richmond, Va.: On reflection, I will withdraw my despatch of this date directing the arrest of Campbell, Mayo, and others so far as it may be regarded as an order, and leave it in the light of a suggestion, to be executed only so far as you may judge the good of the service demands. U. S. GRANT Lieutenant-General. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- RICHMOND, VA., April 15, 1865, 9:30 P.M. Received, 10:20 P.M. Lieut.-Gen. U. S. Grant: Second telegram, leaving the subject of arrest in my hands is received. E. O. C. ORD, Major-General. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- These papers are in the Official Records, Series I, Volume XLVI., part 3, pages 762, 763. Is it not apparent that Gen. Grant was mad or affrighted, and temporarily lost the equipoise with which he has been credited? The order was given on his own assumption of authority, as though he were the supreme commander or dictator. Was he mad or frightened? Was it magnanimous or malignant? One was calm in the midst of paroled prisoners, while the other was excited and petulant in the midst of victors fresh from the field, in their own capital. Which deserves the credit for generous spirit---he who would then and there risk his life on the parole of these people, or he who would arrest old men and paroled prisoners, without civil or military authority, and hold them in Libby Prison with "extreme rigor," because "some insane Brutus" had become a mean assassin? Give honor to whom honor is due. Confederate Veteran, Vol. VI, No. 2 Nashville, Tenn., February, 1898. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CHIVALRY OF SOUTHERN PEOPLE Dr. Henry Van Dyke Rev. Dr. Henry Van Dyke is reported bv the New York Times as author of the following, illustrating the chivalrous sentiment of the Southern people: When I was a child, early in 1861, my father took me with him on a trip to Charleston, S. C. The state authorities had already passed the "ordinance of secession," the citizens were wrought up to a high pitch, and Maj. Anderson had been shut up in Fort Sumter. I remember my experiences at that time vividly. The Federal troops were almost destitute of provisions, and it was a question as to how long they could hold out at Fort Sumter. It was well understood in Charleston that any attempt on the part of the United States to reprovision the garrison would be resisted by force; but there stood Anderson with his handful of men, under the stars and stripes, facing starvation and surrender, possibly annihilation. I observed one day that a number of small boats were putting off from the docks and making for Fort Sumter, where lay the beleaguered Federal troops, and I learned that the women of Charleston had laden these boats with provisions of all sorts, from substantials to luxuries, and were actually sending them to the soldiers whom their brothers and fathers were trying to subdue by starvation or by shot and shell. As the boats were pulling out I looked into them to see what kind of food the ladies were sending to the enemy, and I saw every delicacy that could be found in the market. Shortly after the sending of these provisions to the beleaguered fort by the women of Charleston the men of that city, from their batteries on Morris Island, fired upon the "Star of the West," which was engaged upon a similar mission. Charleston would not have allowed bhe Federal major and his garrison to starve, but was determined not to permit the United States Government to provision the fort. The distinction was clear enough, and the presence of war itself could not hold in abeyance the obligations of hospitality. I remember just as vividly another experience in the South. Shortly after the war I was in Virginia with my father, and he took me to see Gen. Robert E. Lee, who was then at Washington and Lee University. I don't think than I have ever seen a man whose personality impressed me more. Gen. Lee was one of the few men I have seen who seemed to me to bear upon his brow the unmistakable stamp of greatness. He was exceedingly courteous and kindly. It occurred to him that I, who was a boy at the time, might like a ride on his war-steed, and Traveler was brought out, and the General placed me in the saddle. So for a few moments I sat upon the horse that his companionship in march and in battle had made famous.
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