Camp near Cartersville, May 23, 1864

Camp near Dallas, Georgia, May 29, 1864

Sorrow returned with the dawning of morn And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away

Sorrow returned with the dawning of morn And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away

". . . I firmly believe, that if we continue successful a few months longer, the war will close this year, and, as God has hitherto protected me so long amid so many dangers, I trust it is not presumption in me to hope for his protection to the end." . . . It is a little curious to me that, though constantly falling back, I thought then that we were successful. I suppose it must have been that, so far as the mere fighting was concerned, we always held our own, as General Armstrong, in his letter, says, never "yielding except under orders," and for another reason, that the confidence in General Johnston was so great that we all felt that he would at last crush Sherman's army, and I believe he would have done it, if he had not been removed from the command. Besides, I made it a rule always to write home cheerfully, for it was bad enough there anyway without the apprehension of defeat.

On the afternoon of the 23d, the day my letter was written, our brigade was ten or twelve miles to the west of Cartersville, observing the enemy, who that evening crossed the Etowah at Stilesborough, of which General Johnston was duly apprised, as appears from his report "that Jackson's troops reported enemy moving down Etowah, which they crossed at Stilesborough on 23d." Our brigade fell back slowly, and on the 25th found ourselves in rear and to the left of General Hood's corps, which had its center at New Hope Church, and where a desperate assault was made late that evening, with a bloody repulse to the enemy, whose loss was estimated at three thousand killed and wounded, and our loss about
[p. 170]
four hundred and fifty. This battle lasted about two hours, and we were in full hearing of the horrid roar of the guns without taking any part, for we had other duties assigned to us. On the 26th we moved still farther to the left, and on the 27th another fierce assault was made on Cleburne's division, with about the same loss to the enemy and to us. Generals Polk and Hardee had fallen back a little south of Dallas, where the enemy had arrived on the 25th, and had intrenched. I take these figures and dates from General Johnston's report before alluded to. On the morning of the 28th of May we -- our brigade under General Armstrong, for General Jackson was now in command of his division -- were in rear of the left of General Polk's corps, which had its left intrenched in front of the enemy before Dallas. General Johnston disposes of the events of that day by saying, the "usual skirmishing was kept up.

" Armstrong's brigade did not consider it a skirmish in which late in the day they were engaged, nor was it, as the account will show. While resting quietly about half a mile in rear of our works and listening to the incessant rattle of small arms with the occasional bursting of shells, sometimes in the tree-tops over our heads, General Armstrong received an order to leave only his horse-holders and move his brigade up and occupy the trenches on the left which had been vacated by a brigade of infantry moved to some other point. We did not reach the trenches without having a few wounded, for the enemy's fire of small arms was constant, and we had to cross an open field to get to our place. Once there, we were safe enough if we kept under the shelter of the works, but several men were wounded and one killed by incautiously exposing himself. Colonel Pinson went to where Armstrong was, near the center of the brigade (we were on its right), and as I saw nothing to do, I walked carefully along the works to a battery on a hill just a
[p. 171]
little ways off, and where the left of General Bates' division rested. In our front was thick woods, and though the enemy's works were not more than two hundred yards away, we could not see them, and this I hoped to be able to do from this hill where the battery was. I stopped a moment to look through an embrasure at the battery, and a half dozen minie-balls hissed viciously by my head, and I quickly got behind the fortification. One of the artillerymen said to me, "You made a narrow escape; I have seen several men killed and wounded at that place." If he had warned me beforehand it would have been more to the purpose. I caught, however, a good look at a part of their works, which seemed very strong, and I had no doubt were well manned.

I returned in a few minutes to the regiment, taking good care as I passed the embrasure, and a little later Colonel Pinson came back and informed me General Armstrong had received an order from General Bates, at a given signal (a cannon-shot) to assault the enemy's works on our front. He said, further, that General Bates was of the opinion that the enemy had only a skirmish line in the works, and that his division would advance as we did. I told Pinson what I had seen, and that I was satisfied the enemy were in their works in force, for it was certain they had artillery; but, of course, we were powerless, and had nothing to do but obey. It was late in the afternoon when the shot came, and the whole brigade with a cheer scaled the works and dashed forward. I felt we were going to a useless slaughter of brave men, for if there was only a skirmish line it would be withdrawn at night, but if the enemy were in force nothing but disaster could come of the assault. I copy from the last letter written from Georgia home which was received and has escaped destruction, written the next day, and briefly describing the battle:

Memoir of John Ericsson

Memoir of John Ericsson

Memoir of John Ericsson

Forward Section. The anchor-well, a cylindrical perforation of the over-hanging deck, near the bow, first claims our attention. The object of this well being to protect the anchor when raised, it is lined with plate iron backed by heavy timbers, besides being protected by the armor-plating bolted to the outside of the overhang. It should be noticed that this method proved so efficient that in no instance did the anchor-gear receive any injury during the several engagements with the Confederate batteries, although nearly all of the monitors of the Passaic class were subjected to rapid fire at short range in upward of twenty actions. It will be remembered that the unprotected anchor of the Merrimac was shot away during the short battle with the Congress and the Cumberland. Having described the method of protecting the anchors, the mechanism adopted for manipulating the same remains to be explained. Referring to the illustration, it will be seen that a windlass is secured under the deck-beams near the anchor-well. The men working the handles of this mechanism were stationed in the hold of the vessel, and hence were most effectually protected against the enemy's shot, besides being completely out of sight. The Confederate artillerists were at first much surprised at witnessing the novel spectacle of vessels approaching their batteries, then stopping and remaining stationary for an indefinite time while firing, and then again departing, apparently without any intervention of anchor-gear. Our examination of this gear and the anchor-well affords a favorable opportunity of explaining the cause of Lieutenant Greene's alarm, mentioned
[p. 734]
in a statement recently published by a military journal, concerning a mysterious sound emanating from the said well during the passage of the Monitor from New York to Fort Monroe. Lieutenant Greene says that the sound from the anchor-well "resembled the death-groans of twenty men, and was the most dismal, awful sound [he] ever heard." Let us endeavor to trace to some physical cause this portentous sound. The reader will find, on close examination, that the chain cable which suspends the anchor passes through an aperture ("hawse-pipe") on the after side of the well, and that this pipe is very near the water-line; hence the slightest vertical depression of the bow will occasion a flow of water into the vessel. Obviously, any downward motion of the overhang will cause the air confined in the upper part of the well, when covered, to be blown through the hawse-pipe along with the admitted water, thereby producing a very discordant sound, repeated at every rise and fall of the bow during pitching. Lieutenant Greene also states that, apart from the reported sound, the vessel was flooded by the water which entered through the hawse-pipe; a statement suggesting that this flooding was the result of faulty construction, whereas it resulted from gross oversight on the part of the executive officer, -- namely, in going to sea without stopping the opening round the chain-cable at the point where it passes through the side of the anchor-well.

The pilot-house is the next important object represented in the forward section of the illustration now under consideration. This structure is situated 10 feet from the anchor-well, its internal dimensions being 3 feet 6 inches long, 2 feet 8 inches wide, 3 feet 10 inches high above the plating of the deck; the sides consisting of solid blocks of wrought iron, 12 inches deep and 9 inches thick, firmly held down at the corner by 3-inch bolts passing through the iron-plated deck and deck-beams. The wheel, which by means of ordinary tiller-ropes operates the rudder, is placed within the pilot-house, its axle being supported by a bracket secured to the iron blocks as shown by the illustration. An ordinary ladder resting on the bottom of the vessel leads to the grated floor of the pilot-house. In order to afford the commanding officer and the pilot a clear view of objects before and on the sides of the vessel, the first and second iron blocks from the top are kept apart by packing pieces at the corners; long and narrow sight-holes being thereby formed extending round the pilot-house, and giving a clear view which sweeps round the entire horizon, all but that part which is hidden by the turret, hardly twelve degrees on each side of the line of keel. Regarding the adequacy of the elongated sight-hole formed between the iron blocks in the manner described, it should be borne in mind that an opening of five-eights of an inch affords a vertical view 80 feet high at a distance of only 200 yards. More is not needed, a fact established during trials instituted by experts before the constructor delivered the vessel to the Government. Unfortunately the sight-holes were subsequently altered, the iron blocks being raised and the opening between them increased to such an extent that at sea, to quote Lieutenant Greene's report, the water entered "with such force as to knock the helmsman completely round from the wheel." It may be shown that but for the injudicious increase
[p. 735]
of the sight-holes, the commander of the Monitor would not have been temporarily blinded during the conflict at Hampton Roads, although he placed his vessel in such an extraordinary position that, according to Lieutenant Greene's report, "a shell from the enemy's gun, the muzzle not ten yards distant [from the side of the Monitor], struck the forward side of the pilot-house." The size of the sight-hole, after the injudicious increase, may be inferred from the reported fact that the blast caused by the explosion of the Confederate shell on striking the outside of the pilot-house had the power of "partly lifting the top." This "top," it should be observed, consisted of an iron plate two inches thick, let down into an appropriate groove, but not bolted down -- a circumstance which called forth Lieutenant Greene's disapprobation. The object of the constructor in leaving the top plate of the pilot-house loose, so as to be readily pushed up from below, was that of affording egress to the crew in case of accident. Had the monitor Tecumseh, commanded by Captain T. A. M. Craven, when struck by a torpedo during the conflict in Mobile Bay, August 5th, 1864, been provided with a similar loose plate over the main hatch, the fearful calamity of drowning officers and crew would have been prevented. In referring to this untoward event, it should be observed that means had been provided in all the sea-going monitors to afford egress in case of injury to the hull: an opening in the turret-floor, when placed above a corresponding opening in the deck, formed a free passage to the turret, the top of which was provided with sliding hatches. Apparently the officer in charge of the turret-gear of Captain Craven's vessel was not at his post, as he ought to have been during action, or else he had not been taught the imperative duty of placing the turret in such a position that these openings would admit of a free passage from below. [*]

Memoir of John Ericsson

Memoir of John Ericsson

Lieutenant Greene's report with reference to the position of the pilot-house calls for particular notice, his assertion being that he "could not fire ahead within several points of the bow." The distance between the center of the turret and the pilot-house being fifty-five feet, while the extreme breadth of the latter is only five feet, it will be found that by turning the turret through an angle of only six degrees from the center line of the vessel, the shot will clear the pilot-house, a structure too substantial to suffer from
[p. 736]
the mere aërial current produced by the flight of the shot. Considering that the Monitor, as reported by Lieutenant Greene, was a "quick-turning vessel," the disadvantage of not being able to fire over the bow within six degrees of the line of keel is insignificant. Captain Coles claimed for his famous iron-clad turret-ship the advantage of an all-round fire, although the axis of his turret-guns had many times greater deviation from the line of keel than that of the Monitor.

The statement published by Lieutenant Greene, that the chief engineer of the vessel immediately after the engagement in Hampton Roads "suggested the clever plan of putting the pilot-house on top of the turret," is incorrect and calls for notice. The obvious device of placing the pilot-house in the center and above the turret was carefully considered before the Monitor turret was constructed, but could not be carried out for these reasons:

1. The turret of the battery was too light to support a structure large enough to accommodate the commanding officer, the pilot, and the steering-gear, under the severe condition of absolute impregnability against solid shot from guns of 10-inch caliber employed by the Confederates.

2. A central stationary pilot-house connected with the turret involved so much complication and additional work (see description of turret and pilot-houses further on), that had its adoption not been abandoned the Monitor would not have been ready to proceed to Hampton Roads until the beginning of April, 1862. The damage to the national cause which might have resulted from that delay is beyond computation.

The next important part of the battery delineated on the forward section of the illustration, namely, the quarters of the officers and crew, will now be considered; but before entering on a description it should be mentioned that in a small turret-vessel built for fighting, only one-half of the crew need be accommodated at a time, as the other half should be in and on the turret, the latter being always covered with a water-proof awning. Referring again to the forward and to part of the central section, it will be seen that the quarters
[p. 737]
extend from the transverse bulkhead under the turret to within five feet of the pilot-house, a distance of fifty feet; the forward portion, twenty-four feet in length, being occupied by the officers' quarters and extending across the battery from side to side. The height of the aft part of these quarters is 8 feet 6 inches under the deck-beams; while the height of the whole of the quarters of the crew is 8 feet 6 inches. A mere glance at the illustrations showing a side elevation [p. 733] and top view of internal arrangement [p. 735] gives a correct idea of the nature of the accommodations prepared for the officers and crew of the vessel which Lieutenant Greene regards as a "crude" structure, and of which he says: "Probably no ship was ever devised which was so uncomfortable for the crew." If this opinion were well founded, it would prove that submerged vessels like the monitors are unfit to live in.

Fortunately, the important question whether crews can live permanently below water-line has been set at rest by the report of the chief of the Bureau of Medicine and Surgery to the Secretary of the Navy, 1864. This minute and carefully considered report enabled the naval administration, organized by President Lincoln, to prove the healthfulness of the monitors, by the following clear presentation of the subject: "The monitor class of vessels, it is well known, have but a few inches of their hulls above the water-line, and in a heavy sea are entirely submerged. It has been doubted whether under such circumstances it would be possible long to preserve the health of the men on board, and consequently maintain the fighting material in a condition for effective service. It is gratifying, therefore, to know that an examination of the sick-reports, covering a period of over thirty months, shows that, so far from being unhealthy, there was less sickness on board the monitors than on the same number of wooden ships with an equal number of men and in
[p. 738]
similar exposed positions. The exemption from sickness upon the iron-clads in some instances is remarkable. There were on board the Saugus, from November 25th, 1864, to April 1st, 1865, a period of over four months, but four cases of sickness (excluding accidental injuries), and of these two were diseases with which the patients had suffered for years. On the Montauk, for a period of one hundred and sixty-five days prior to the 29th of May, 1865, there was but one case of disease on board. Other vessels of the class exhibit equally remarkable results, and the conclusion is reached that no wooden vessels in any squadron throughout the world can show an equal immunity from disease."

Apart from the ample size of the quarters on board the vessel, shown by the illustration, it should be mentioned that the system adopted for ventilating those quarters furnishes an abundant supply of fresh air by the following means. Two centrifugal blowers, driven by separate steam-engines, furnished seven thousand cubic feet of atmospheric air per minute by the process of suction through standing pipes on deck. Part of the air thus drawn in supported the combustion of the boiler furnaces, the remainder entering the lower part of the hull, gradually expelling the heated and vitiated air within the vessel. It has been imagined that the fresh air supplied by the blowers ought to have been conveyed to the quarters at the forward end of the vessel, by a system of conducting pipes. The laws of static balance, however, render the adoption of such a method unnecessary, since agreeably to those laws the fresh cold air, unless it be stopped by closed doors in the bulkheads, will find its way to every part of the bottom of the hull, gradually rising and expelling the upper heated strata through the hatches, and lastly through the grated top of the turret. Naval constructors who speculate on the cause of the extraordinary healthfulness of the monitors need not extend their researches beyond a thorough investigation of the system of ventilation just described.

Turret Department. The most important object delineated on the central section of the illustration, namely, the rotating turret, will now be considered; but before describing this essential part of the monitor system, it will be well to observe that the general belief is quite erroneous that a revolving platform, open or covered, is a novel design. So far from that being the case, this obvious device dates back to the first introduction of artillery. About 1820 the writer was taught by an instructor in fortification and gunnery that under certain conditions a position assailable from all sides should be defended by placing the guns on a turn-table. Long before building the Monitor I regarded the employment of a revolving structure to operate guns on board ships as a device familiar to all well-informed naval artillerists. But although constructors of revolving circular gun-platforms for naval purposes, open or covered, have a right to
[p. 739]
employ this ancient device, it will be demonstrated further on that the turret of the monitors is a distinct mechanical combination differing from previous inventions. The correctness of the assumption that revolving batteries for manipulating guns on board floating structures had been constructed nearly a century ago will be seen by the following reference to printed publications. 

Memoir of John Ericsson

Memoir of John Ericsson

The "Nautical Chronicle" for 1805 contains an account of a "movable turning impregnable battery, invented by a Mr. Gillespie, a native of Scotland, who completed the model of a movable impregnable castle or battery, impervious to shot or bombs, provided with a cannon and carriage calculated to take a sure aim at any object." It is further stated that "the invention proposed will be found equally serviceable in floating batteries. Its machinery is adapted to turn the most ponderous mortars with the greatest ease, according to the position of the enemy." Again, the Transactions of the Society for the Promotion of Useful Arts in the State of New York, 1807, contains an illustration representing a side elevation of a circular revolving floating battery constructed by Abraham Bloodgood. The guns of this battery, as the inventor points out, "would be more easily worked than is common, as they would not require any lateral movement." It is also stated, as a peculiar feature of this floating battery, that "its rotary motion would bring all its cannon to bear successively, as fast as they could be loaded, on objects in any direction"; and that "its circular form would cause every shot that might strike it, not near the center, to glance." Thirty-five years after the publication of the illustration and description of the circular floating revolving tower of Abraham Bloodgood, Theodore R. Timby proposed to build a tower on land for coast defense, to be composed of iron, with several floors
[p. 740]
and tiers of guns, the tower to turn on a series of friction-rollers under its base. The principal feature of Timby's "invention" was that of arranging the guns radially within the tower, and firing each gun at the instant of its coming in line with the object aimed at during the rotary motion of the tower, precisely as invented by Bloodgood. About 1865 certain influential citizens presented drawings of Timby's revolving tower to the authorities at Washington, with a view of obtaining orders to build such towers for coast defense; but the plan was found to be not only very expensive, but radically defective in principle. The slides of the gun-carriages being fixed permanently in a radial direction within the tower, the guns, of course, are directed to all points of the compass. Hence, during an attack by a hostile fleet, with many ships abreast, only one assailant can be fired at, its companions being scot-free in the dead angle formed between the effective gun and the guns on either side. In the meantime the numerous guns, distributed round the tower on the several floors, cannot be fired until their time comes during the revolution of the tower. The enemy's fleet continuing its advance, of course, calls for a change of elevation of the pieces, which, considering the constant revolution of the tower and the different altitudes above the sea of the several tiers, presents perplexing difficulties. Nothing further need be said to explain why the Government did not accept the plans for Timby's revolving towers.

The origin of rotating circular gun-platforms being disposed of, the consideration of the central section of the illustration will now be resumed. It will be seen that the turret which protects the guns and gunners of the Monitor consists simply of a short cylinder resting on the deck, covered with a grated iron roof provided with sliding hatches. This cylinder is composed of eight thicknesses of wrought-iron plates, each one inch thick, firmly riveted together, the inside course, which extends below the rest, being accurately faced underneath. A flat, broad ring of bronze is let into the deck, its upper
[p. 741]
face being very smooth in order to form a water-tight joint with the base of the turret without the employment of any elastic packing, a peculiar feature of the turrets of the monitors, as will be seen further on. Unfortunately, before the Monitor left New York for Hampton Roads, it was suggested at the Navy Yard to insert a plaited hemp rope between the base of the turret and the bronze ring, for the purpose of making the joint perfectly water-tight. As might have been supposed, the rough and uneven hemp rope did not form a perfect joint; hence during the passage a great leak was observed at intervals as the sea washed over the decks. "The water came down under the turret like a waterfall," says Lieutenant Greene in his report. It will be proper to observe in this place that the "foundering" of the Monitor on its way to Charleston was not caused by the "separation of the upper and lower part of the hull," as was imagined by persons who possessed no knowledge of the method adopted by the builders in joining the upper and lower hulls. Again, those who asserted that the plates had been torn asunder at the junction of the hulls did not consider that severe strain cannot take place in a structure nearly submerged. The easy motion at sea, peculiar to the monitors, was pointed out by several of their commanders. Lieutenant Greene in his report to the Secretary of the Navy, dated on board the Monitor, March 27th, 1862, says with reference to sea-going qualities:

"During her passage from New York her roll was very easy and slow and not at all deep. She pitched very little and with no strain whatever."

Captain John Rodgers's report to the Secretary of the Navy, dated on board of the monitor Weehawken, January 22d, 1863, refers specially to the easy motion of his vessel:

"On Tuesday night, when off Chincoteague shoals, we had a very heavy gale from the E. N. E. with a very heavy sea, made confused and dangerous by the proximity of the land. The waves I measured after the sea abated; I found them twenty-three feet high. They were certainly seven feet higher in the midst of the storm. During the heaviest of the gale I stood upon the turret and admired the behavior of the vessel. She rose and fell to the waves, and I concluded that the monitor form had great sea-going qualities. If leaks were prevented no hurricane could injure her."

The true cause of the foundering of the Monitor was minutely explained to the writer some time after the occurrence by the engineer, a very intelligent person, who operated the centrifugal pumping-engine of the vessel at the time. According to his statement, oakum was packed under the base of the turret before going to sea, in order to make sure of a water-tight joint; but this expedient failed altogether, the sea gradually washing out the oakum in those places where it had been loosely packed, thereby permitting so large a
[p. 742]
quantity of water to enter under the turret, fully sixty-three feet in circumference, that the centrifugal pumping-engine had not sufficient power to expel it. The hull consequently filled gradually and settled, until at the expiration of about four hours the Monitor went to the bottom. It will be asked, in view of the preceding explanation of the construction of the monitor turrets, namely, that the smooth base of the turret forms a water-tight joint with the ring on the deck, why was oakum packed under the turret before going to Charleston? The commander of the vessel, Captain Bankhead, in his report of the foundering, adverts to the admission of water under the turret, but does not duly consider the serious character of the leak, sixty-three feet in length. Captain Bankhead evidently had not carefully investigated the matter when he attributed the accident to an imaginary separation of the upper and lower hull. [*] It should be observed, in justice to this officer, that having commanded the Monitor only during a brief period he possessed but an imperfect knowledge of his vessel, and probably knew nothing regarding the consequence of employing packing, -- namely, that it might cause "water to come down under the turret like a waterfall," as previously reported by the second officer in command. It is proper to mention as a mitigating circumstance in favor of the second officer, Lieutenant Greene, that previous to the battle in Hampton Roads he had "never performed any but midshipman duty." The important question, therefore, must remain unanswered, whether in the hands of an older and more experienced executive officer the Monitor, like the other vessels of her type, might not have reached Charleston in safety.

Referring again to the central part of the illustration [p. 733] and the sectional representation of the turret [above], it will be found that the guns are
[p. 743]
placed across the vessel; consequently only the end of the breech and upper part of the port-hole are seen. The object of the pendulum port-stoppers suspended under the roof is to afford protection to the turret crew while loading the guns. Generally, however, the turret should be moved, and the port-holes thereby turned away from the enemy. Much time was lost during the conflict with the Merrimac by closing the port-stoppers in place of merely moving the turret, the latter operation being performed by a small steamengine controlled by a single hand; while opening and closing the port-stoppers, as reported by Lieutenant Greene, required the entire gun-crew. The slow fire of the Monitor during the action, complained of by critics, was no doubt occasioned by an injudicious manipulation of the port-stoppers. There are occasions, however, when the turret should not be turned, in which case the port-stoppers are indispensable. The method adopted for turning the turret will be readily understood. The small steam-engine controlled by one man, before referred to, drives a double train of cog-wheels connected with the vertical axle of the turret, this axle being stepped in a bronze bearing secured to the central bulkhead of the vessel. The mechanism thus described was carefully tested before the Monitor left New York for Hampton Roads, and was found to move very freely, the turret being turned and the guns accurately pointed by the sailing-master without aid. The trouble reported by Lieutenant Greene regarding the manipulation of the turret was caused by inattention during the passage from New York, the working-gear having been permitted to rust for want of proper cleaning and oiling while exposed to the action of salt-water entering under the turret, from causes already explained.

Having thus briefly described the turret and its mechanism, our investigation of the central part of the sectional view of the battery will be completed by a mere reference to the steam-boilers placed aft of the turret. There are two of these boilers placed side by side, as shown in the cut on page 736. Two views being thus presented, the nature of the boilers will be understood without further explanation. It should be mentioned, however, that they proved very economical and efficient.

Aft Section. The following brief reference to this section of the sectional illustration, showing the motive engine, propeller, and rudder, will complete our description:

1. The motive engine, the construction of which is somewhat peculiar, consists of only one steam-cylinder with pistons applied at opposite ends, a steam-tight partition being introduced in the middle. The propeller-shaft has only one crank and one crank-pin, the difficulty of "passing the centers" being overcome by the expedient of placing the connecting-rods, actuated by the steam-pistons, at right angles to each other. Much space is saved within the vessel by employing only one steam-cylinder, an advantage of such importance in the short hulls of the monitors that the entire fleet built during the war was provided with engines of the stated type.

2. The propeller, being of the ordinary four-bladed type, needs no description; but the mode of protecting it against shot demands full explanation.
[p. 744]
Referring to the illustration, it will be seen that the under side of the overhang near the stern is cut out in the middle, forming a cavity needed to give free sweep to the propeller-blades; the slope of the cavity on either side of the propeller being considerably inclined in order to favor a free passage of the water to and from the propeller-blades.

3. The extreme beam at the forward side of the propeller-well is 31 feet, while the diameter of the propeller is only 9 feet; it will therefore be seen that the deck and side armor projects 11 feet on each side, thus protecting most effectually the propelling instrument as well as the equipoise rudder applied aft of the same. It will be readily admitted that no other vessel constructed here or elsewhere has such thorough protection to rudder and propeller as that just described.

The foregoing description of the hastily constructed steam-battery proves that, so far from being, as generally supposed, a rude specimen of naval construction, the Monitor displayed careful planning, besides workmanship of superior quality. Experts who examined the vessel and machinery after completion pronounced the entire structure a fine specimen of naval engineering.

The conflict in Hampton Roads, and the immediate building of a fleet of sea-going monitors by the United States Government, attracted great attention in all maritime countries, especially in the north of Europe. Admiral Lessoffsky, of the Russian navy, was at once ordered to be present during the completion and trial of our sea-going monitors. The report of this talented officer to his government being favorable, the Emperor immediately ordered a fleet of twelve vessels on the new system, to be constructed according to copies of the working-drawings from which the American sea-going monitors had been built. Sweden and Norway also forthwith laid the keels of a fleet of seven vessels of the new type, Turkey rapidly following the example of the northern European nations. It will be remembered that during the naval contest on the Danube the Russian batteries and torpedo-boats subjected the Turkish monitors to severe tests. England, in due course, adopted our turret system, discarding the turn-table and cupola.

Two main routes lead from Maryland and Pennsylvania

Two main routes lead from Maryland and Pennsylvania

into the Valley of Virginia, meeting at Winchester: one passing through Frederick, and crossing the Potomac at Harper's Ferry; the

other leading through Chambersburg, Williamsport (where it crosses the Potomac), and Martinsburg. These roads are met at Winchester by

the principal one from Northwestern Virginia into "the Valley," and also by a good and direct one from Manassas Junction, through

Ashby's Gap, which, east of the Blue Ridge, had the advantage of easy communication with the Manassas Gap Railroad. This road is,

perhaps, little shorter than that from Manassas Junction to Harper's Ferry; but there were insuperable objections to the latter. Near

Harper's Ferry it follows the course of the Potomac, and could be completely swept by artillery on the north bank of the river, so that

it might have been closed to us by a few Federal batteries; and, even if our troops following it escaped that danger, they might have

been intercepted near Centreville by the Federal army.

The United States had, at that time, three armies threatening Virginia. The principal one at Washington, commanded by Major-General

McDowell; the second at Chambersburg, under Major-General Patterson's command; and the third in Northwestern Virginia, under that of

Major-General McClellan.

We supposed that these armies would coöperate with each other, and that the Federal general-in-chief would direct their combined forces

against Richmond. This supposition was partially sustained by our scouts and friends in Maryland, who reported that the armies of

Generals Patterson and McClellan
[p. 19]
were to unite at Winchester; and this report was confirmed by the Northern press.

It was necessary, of course, that the Confederate troops in the Valley should always be ready to meet this invasion, as well as to

unite quickly with the army at Manassas Junction, whenever it might be threatened by General McDowell's. At Harper's Ferry, they were

manifestly out of position for either object, for Patterson's route from Chambersburg lay through Williamsport and Martinsburg -- a

long day's march to the west; and the only direct road thence to Manassas Junction was completely under the enemy's control. Winchester

was obnoxious to neither objection, but, on the contrary, fulfilled the conditions desired better than any other point. The commanders

on both sides, in the subsequent military operations in that region, seem to have appreciated its importance, and to have estimated its

value as I did, except those who disposed the forces of the United States in September, 1862, when eleven thousand men, placed at

Harper's Ferry as a garrison, were captured, almost without resistance, by General Lee's troops, coming from Maryland.

My objections to Harper's Ferry as a position, and to the idea of making a garrison instead of an active force of the troops intrusted

with the defense of that district, were expressed to the proper authorities in letters dated May 26th and 28th, and June 6th, and

replied to by General Lee [7] on the 1st and 7th of June. These letters of his express the
[p. 20]
dissent of the authorities from my views, and their opinion that the maintenance of the existing arrangement was necessary to enable us

to retain the command of the Valley of Virginia, and our communications with Maryland, held to be very important.

General Lee wrote in his letter of June 1st: "I received, on my return from Manassas Junction, your communications of the 25th and 28th

ult., in reference to your position at Harper's Ferry. The difficulties which surround it have been felt from the beginning of its

occupation, and I am aware of the obstacles to its maintenance with your present force. Every effort has been made to remove them, and

will be continued. But, with similar necessities pressing on every side, you need not be informed of the difficulty of providing

against them. . . ." And in that of the 7th: "I have had the honor to receive your letter of the 6th inst. The importance of the

subject has induced me to lay it before the President, that he may be informed of your views. He places great value upon the retention

of the command of the Shenandoah Valley, and the position at Harper's Ferry. The evacuation of the latter would interrupt our

communication with Maryland, and injure our cause in that State. . . ."

The objects of the Confederate Government, expressed in these letters, were not to be accomplished by the concentration of its forces

at Harper's Ferry; for General Patterson's invasion was to be from Chambersburg, and therefore by Williamsport and Martinsburg, a route

beyond the control of Harper's Ferry.

Notwithstanding this determination on the part
[p. 21]
of the Executive, I resolved not to continue to occupy the place after the purposes for which the troops were sent to it should require

them elsewhere.

About the 9th of June, however, I again represented to the Government the objections to its plan, and urged it to change the character

of my command. [8]

General Beauregard came to Manassas Junction and assumed command on that frontier, a week after my arrival at Harper's Ferry. We

communicated with each other at once, and agreed that the first attacked should be aided by the other to his utmost. We were convinced

of our mutual dependence, and agreed in the opinion that the safety of the Confederacy depended on the coöperation of the armies we

commanded.

In the mean time the Potomac was observed by the cavalry from the Point of Rocks to the western part of the county of Berkeley, as had

been done under my predecessor. The manufacture of cartridge-boxes and belts was ordered in the neighboring towns and villages.

Cartridges were made of powder furnished by Governor Letcher, and lead found at the place, or procured in the neighborhood. Caps (in

small quantities only) were smuggled from Baltimore. Caissons were constructed at Captain Pendleton's suggestion, by fixing

roughly-made ammunition-chests on the running-parts of farm-wagons. Horses, and harness of various kinds, for the artillery, and wagons

and
[p. 22]
teams for field-transportation, were collected in the surrounding country; and the work of removing the machinery of the armory, begun

by Governor Letcher's orders, was continued. Two heavy guns on naval carriages, that had been placed in battery on the west side of the

village by Colonel Jackson's direction, were mounted on Furnace Ridge. My predecessors had constructed two very slight outworks, one on

the summit of the mountain on the Maryland side of the Potomac, the other on the Loudon Heights.

Before the end of the first week in June the Seventh and Eighth Georgia and Second Tennessee regiments had arrived.

About the 10th of the month, General Patterson, who had been organizing and instructing his troops at Chambersburg, advanced from that

place to Hagerstown. According to the information we could obtain from scouts and intelligent people of the country, they amounted to

about eighteen thousand men. The organization of this army, as published in a newspaper of Hagerstown, corresponded very well with this

estimate; for twenty-four regiments of infantry were enumerated in it, and several small bodies of regular artillery and cavalry. [9]

The garrison of Harper's Ferry had then been increased to almost seven thousand men of all arms.

At sunrise on the 13th the Hon. James M. Mason brought from Winchester intelligence, received there the night before, that two thousand

Federal troops, supposed to be the advanced guard of General McClellan's army, had marched into Romney the day before. That place is

forty-three miles west of
[p. 23]
Winchester. As this information had come from the most respectable sources, it was believed, and Colonel A. P. Hill immediately

dispatched to Winchester with his own (Thirteenth) and Colonel Gibbons's (Tenth Virginia) regiments on trains provided by Mr. Mason's

forethought. Colonel Hill was instructed to add Colonel Vaughn's (Third Tennessee) regiment, which had just reached the town, to his

detachment, and to move on toward Romney without delay, and to take the best measures in his power to retard the progress of the

Federal troops, if they should be approaching "the Valley."

During that day and the next the heavy baggage of the troops (almost every private soldier had a trunk), the property of the

quartermaster's and subsistence departments, and the remaining machinery of the armory, were removed to Winchester by railroad, whence

the machinery was transported over the turnpike to Strasburg, on the Manassas Gap Railroad, and the bridges over the Potomac were

destroyed from the Point of Rocks to Shepardstown.

Memoir of Joseph Eggleston Johnston

Memoir of Joseph Eggleston Johnston CHAPTER XIV.

Mr. Davis's Unsent Message. -- Letters of Governor Humphreys and Major Mims. -- Synopsis of Unsent Message. -- Reply to Unsent Message.

In the winter of 1866-'67, I learned in Jackson, Mississippi, that a paper had been seen by my three or four friends there, purporting to be a message from the President of the Confederacy to the two Houses of Congress, explaining why his Excellency could not conscientiously restore me to military command. This explanation was, ostensibly, a narrative of my military service to the time of my removal from the command of the Army of Tennessee, with comments.

My friends endeavored, but unsuccessfully, to obtain a copy of the paper for me. They gave me, however, the name of the gentleman to whom they supposed that it had been committed.

When informed of Mr. Davis's address, or rather, how I could send a letter to him, I requested him to instruct the gentleman my friends had named to me, to give me a copy of the document. He replied promptly that, although he had written no such message, he desired the gentleman named, by that mail, to give me a copy of any paper written by him in relation to me, that might be in his possession. In due time that gentleman informed me that he had not the paper, but told me who had it in his keeping.
[p. 431]
I then wrote to Mr. Davis again, explaining my mistake, and requesting him to instruct the gentleman who really had the message to give me a copy. As Mr. Davis had gone to Mississippi in the mean time, this letter was sent to a gentleman in Jackson, who was his friend as well as mine. In that way I know it was received, although never acknowledged; nor was the copy asked for given; I am therefore compelled to believe that the instructions so promptly received by one who had not the paper described, were not given to him to whom it had been intrusted.

The fact that this document was shown to the only gentlemen of Jackson whom I was well acquainted with, gives me reason to think that it has been exhibited freely, while the care with which it is preserved, and the language of him who has it in his keeping, indicate that it is so preserved for publication. Having waited for that event as long as one at my time of life can afford to do, I now defend myself against these accusations as given in the following synopsis -- the only form in which I have been able to see them. I am confident of its accuracy, from the best evidence -- that of gentlemen of intelligence and honor, who are well known in Mississippi. It is given in the following letter:

Vicksburg, Miss., January 10, 1870.

"Dear General: Your letter of 26th December last was received while I was confined to my bed with catarrh-fever, which is my excuse for the delay in answering it.

I have carefully read the synopsis (furnished you by a friend and sent to me) of the paper read to me
[p. 432]
by General T. J. Wharton, in the Executive Office at Jackson in 1866, purporting to be a message prepared by President Davis, to be sent to Congress, giving his reasons for withholding from you any further command in the Confederate Army. I find it to agree wonderfully with my recollections of the contents of that paper. The synopsis is somewhat meagre in elaboration and detail, but, with some few omissions, it is substantially correct, I think. First, in the charges stated in regard to your conduct and course in the Valley before the battle of Manassas; then of what is said of your movement from Manassas and preliminary to it; then the accusations against you at Yorktown, at Seven Pines, and at Vicksburg; and the alleged misconduct in Georgia, are all given substantially correct. As to the omissions I allude to, I think it is stated in the original paper that you were ordered to take command of Bragg's army in January, 1863, if it appeared to you to be advisable, but that you sustained Bragg, expressed confidence, etc., in him. Then you are taken to task for remaining in Tennessee instead of going to Mississippi, where you ought to have been, and where you did not go until expressly ordered. I think another omission is, that you were charged with the loss of rolling-stock on the railroad above Big Black, in July, 1863, which could have been saved easily by making a temporary bridge at Jackson. I think, if the original paper ever sees daylight, it will show the synopsis and these omissions to be substantially given as stated.

Very truly, your sincere friend,

(Signed)

Benj. G. Humphreys.

To General J. E. Johnston,

Savannah, Ga."
[p. 433]

Memoir of Joseph Eggleston Johnston CHAPTER II

Memoir of Joseph Eggleston Johnston CHAPTER II

Movement of Troops to Manassas. -- Discouragements of the March. -- Arrival at Manassas. -- President Davis's Telegram. -- General Beauregard's Proposed Plan of Attack approved. -- General McDowell anticipates it. -- Battle of Manassas. -- Arrival of President Davis. -- Reasons why an Advance on Washington was impracticable.

The troops left their camps about noon, Jackson's brigade leading. After the march was fairly begun, and the rear had left Winchester a mile or two, the different regiments were informed, at the same time, of the important object in view, of the necessity of a forced march, and exhorted to strive to reach the field in time to take part in the great battle then imminent.

The discouragement of that day's march to one accustomed, like myself, to the steady gait of regular soldiers, is indescribable. The views of military command and obedience, then taken both by officers and privates, confined those duties and obligations almost exclusively to the drill-ground and guards. In camps and marches they were scarcely known. Consequently, frequent and unreasonable delays caused so slow a rate of marching as to make me despair of joining General Beauregard in time to aid him. Major Whiting was therefore dispatched to the nearest station of the Manassas Gap Railroad, Piedmont, to
[p. 37]
ascertain if trains, capable of transporting the troops to their destination more quickly than they were likely to reach it on foot, could be provided there, and, if so, to make the necessary arrangements. That officer met me at Paris, after executing his instructions, with a report so favorable as to give me reason to expect that the transportation of the infantry over the thirty-four miles between Piedmont and Manassas Junction would be accomplished easily in twenty-four hours.

Jackson's brigade, his leading men, that is to say, reached Paris, seventeen miles from Winchester, about two hours after dark. The four others halted for the night on the Shenandoah, having marched thirteen miles; Jackson's brigade marched the six miles from Paris to Piedmont before eight o'clock, Friday morning; and, as trains enough for its transportation were found there, it moved in an hour or two. The other brigades came up separately in the afternoon -- Bartow's first. Other trains, capable of transporting two regiments, being in readiness about three o'clock, the Seventh and Eighth Georgia regiments were dispatched in them. No other infantry had the means of moving that day, although the president of the railroad company had promised that the last regiment should reach Manassas Junction Saturday morning -- nine thousand men -- before sunrise.

The artillery and cavalry were directed to continue their march by the wagon-road, under Colonels Stuart and Pendleton.

At night, Captain Chisholm, an officer of General Beauregard's staff, arrived, bringing a suggestion from him to me, to march by Aldie and fall upon the
[p. 38]
rear of the Federal right, at Centreville, while his troops, advancing from Bull Run, assailed that army in front. I did not agree to the plan, because, ordinarily, it is impracticable to direct the movements of troops so distant from each other, by roads so far separated, in such a manner as to combine their action on a field of battle. It would have been impossible, in my opinion, to calculate when our undisciplined volunteers would reach any distant point that might be indicated. I preferred the junction of the two armies at the earliest time possible, as the first measure to secure success.

Enough of the cars, sent down in the morning to convey about two regiments, were brought back before midnight, but the conductors and engineers disappeared immediately, to pass the night probably in sleep, instead of on the road. And it was not until seven or eight o'clock Saturday morning that the trains could be put in motion, carrying the Fourth Alabama and Second Mississippi regiments, with two companies of the Eleventh. General Bee and myself accompanied these troops. Brigadier-General E. Kirby Smith was left at Piedmont to expedite the transportation of the remaining brigades -- about three-fifths of the army.

We reached General Beauregard's position about noon. The Seventh and Eighth Georgia regiments were united to the detachment just arrived, to form a temporary brigade for General Bee.

As the army had not been informed, in the usual way, of the promotion of Generals Cooper, Lee, and myself, to the grade of general, I had, after leaving Winchester, requested the President, by telegraph, to
[p. 39]
state what my rank in the army was, to prevent the possibility of a doubt of the relative rank of General Beauregard and myself in the mind of the former. His reply was received on the 20th. His excellency said, in his telegram: "You are a general in the Confederate army, possessed of all the powers attaching to that rank."

Memoir of Joseph Eggleston Johnston CHAPTER III

Memoir of Joseph Eggleston Johnston CHAPTER III

The Summer spent in observing the Enemy and preparing for Active Service. -- Mason's and Munson's Hills occupied. -- Colonel J. E. B. Stuart. -- General McClellan in command of the Federal Forces. -- Consequences of Want of Preparation for the Struggle beginning to be seriously felt. -- The President appoints Five Generals. -- Correspondence with him on the Subject. -- Organization of the Confederate Army. -- President invited to Headquarters of the Army for Consultation. -- He visits Fairfax Court-House. -- Account of the Conference and its Result. -- Battle of Leesburg. -- Affair at Drainsville. -- Effective Total of the Confederate Army at the End of the Year 1861. -- Allusion to Events in the West.

No military event deserving notice occurred on our part of the frontier during the remainder of the summer. We were employed in observing the enemy and preparing our troops for active service by diligent instruction. The captured material enabled Colonel Pendleton to increase and improve our artillery very much.

At the beginning of September the army was encamped about Fairfax Court-House, with strong outposts at Munson's and Mason's Hills, with the cavalry on their flanks. Stuart, who commanded it, had already impressed those who had opportunity to observe him, with the sagacity and courage that qualified him so admirably for the command of outposts. As had been his previous practice, his pickets were always near the enemy, while the Federal cavalry rarely ventured beyond the protection of infantry.
[p. 70]

The Federal intrenchments, in front of which General McClellan had encamped his army, had been greatly extended by him, and they covered the heights on the Virginia side of the Potomac from a point above Georgetown to the hill south of Alexandria.

The accessions to the army since July 21st had been the excellent brigade of Georgians formed and brought to Virginia by General Toombs, two regiments from Mississippi, and one each from North Carolina, South Carolina, Alabama, and Texas. [1]

The consequences of neglect on the part of the Government of the Confederate States to prepare for a great war before its actual commencement, were now severely felt. While the United States was organizing an army of half a million of men, almost half of whom were assembling in front of Washington, we, with a population far more eager to defend their country than that of the Northern States to invade it, were able to add but ten regiments, averaging little more than five hundred men, to our principal army. If arms and ammunition could have been furnished then, hands to use them would have been offered promptly, and the Confederate army would have outnumbered that which the Federal Government was forming for our subjugation.

It was reported, about the end of August, that General A. S. Johnston, coming from California by the southern (land) route, had entered the Confederacy; and, on the 31st of the month, the President nominated five persons to be generals in the Confederate army: First, S. Cooper, to rank from May 16th, the date of the law creating the grade; second, A. S.
[p. 71]
Johnston, to rank from May 28th; third, R. E. Lee, from June 14th; fourth, J. E. Johnston, from July 4th; and, fifth, G. T. Beauregard, from July 21st, the date of the appointment previously conferred upon him. [2]

Lemuel Abijah Abbott

Lemuel Abijah Abbott 

I was absent wounded in Vermont at the time of the battle of Cedar Creek, Va., and only know that my regiment fought desperately and lost heavily in killed and wounded. Captain Lucian D. Thompson of Waterbury, Vt., was decapitated by a solid shot from the enemy and Captain Chester F. Nye, Adjutant Wyllys Lyman and Lieutenants George E. Davis, B. Brooks Clark, Austin W. Fuller and George P. Welch were wounded. From June 1st to October 19, 1864, we had seven officers killed which included all the officers who originally went out with my old Company B, twelve wounded and two captured, making twenty-one in all. Surely, the blood shed in the Tenth Vermont for the preservation of the Union should satisfy the most exacting that the regiment stood up
[p. 257]
to the rack all through the Civil War from the time it entered it.

After the morning surprise at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864, just a month after the battle of Winchester, the Sixth Corps, I was told by officers of my regiment afterwards, was the only unstampeded infantry organization in the command around which General H. G. Wright soon rallied the better part of the surprised little army which Sheridan, after his historic ride of "Twenty Miles Away" from Winchester, found awaiting him ready to advance and again punish the enemy which it most effectually did. It was the last fight in the valley of the Civil War, and it was fitting that the Sixth Corps should have been allowed so largely to have so brilliantly rung down the curtain on the great Civil War stage in this section. The Sixth Corps was the mainstay of Sheridan's brilliant little army in the Shenandoah Valley campaign, and no one knew it better than he. When the spring campaign opened in 1865, he wanted it at Five Forks again, but Grant wanted it, too, at the same time to break the backbone of the Confederacy by breaking its lines in front of Petersburg on that memorable morning of April 2nd, 1865, which was the greatest possible honor of the day, and it did it. When given his choice by Grant of any corps in the army of the Potomac, Sheridan again called for it, too, a few days later, April 6, 1865, at Sailor's Creek, Va., the last real battle fought in the Civil War by
[p. 258]
the Army of the Potomac, when the Sixth Corps was rushed forward by Grant's order at pell-mell speed, where in another of Sheridan's characteristic, snappy, short, effective, two-hour fights, it largely helped to capture several -- said to be eleven -- general officers, 13,000 [*] prisoners and a burning wagon train, almost an entire column, excepting about 2,000 of General Lee's fleeing veterans, including himself, three days before his surrender at Appomattox. It was fitting, too, here, that the Sixth Corps should largely fight this battle and thus again brilliantly and virtually finally ring down the stage curtain of the greatest war tragedy of modern times -- The Great Civil War.

Surely with all the brag and conceit in late years by members of other corps, that its corps was the best in the Army of the Potomac -- and the Second as well as the Fifth were fine corps, and probably both these and the Sixth Corps were about equal -- neither Grant nor Sheridan could have regarded the Sixth as an unreliable one, or second to any as a fighting corps however often members of other corps may conceitedly dub theirs the best in the army. And what other
[p. 259]
than the Sixth Corps can point to any such enviable repeated preferences on the part of both Grant and Sheridan, or to such a proud record in the closing scenes of the great rebellion? Would they not be glad to do so if they could? And still neither of the able commanders of the Sixth Corps -- Sedgwick and Wright -- have been honored by an appropriation for a monument by Congress in the capital city of the Nation which the Sixth Corps twice saved, once at the battle of the Monocacy, largely by the Third Division, July 9th, and again three days later largely by the First and Second Divisions at the battle in front of Ft. Stevens in the suburbs of Washington, July 12th, 1864, when Early came so near capturing the city.

I do not believe in being invidious, but having been satiated for years by the egotistic statements of the superior qualifications by members of other corps of their particular corps, especially in Washington, and knowing only too well from long experience that frequently true merit goes unrewarded in history and otherwise, because of an over-modest inclination to mention facts by those interested who can, when organizations and persons less worthy get more than is due by being more aggressive, is one of the reasons for my partially treating this matter. There was no corps, during the last few months of the war, to which Grant and Sheridan more frequently turned in emergencies than to the Sixth Corps, which is significant,
[p. 260]
as it shows their estimate of its merits as a reliable fighting corps, over all others. The Sixth Corps was ever proud of the Second and Fifth Corps and felt honored in being associated with such splendid organizations in the same army all through the Civil War, but the Sixth Corps yields the palm to no other in the whole Union Army east or west when it comes to fighting or any other soldierly qualifications pertaining to a model army corps.

Said General Grant in the closing scenes of the Civil War: "I can trust the Sixth Corps anywhere." Said General Sheridan: "Give me the Sixth Corps and I will charge anywhere."

Lemuel Abijah Abbott

Lemuel Abijah Abbott

This memorable siege extending over a period of several months, was full of exciting, eventful fights, but none more so than the final assault on the main works, April 2, 1865. For three nights the Sixth Corps, which had been selected by General Grant to break the main line of the formidable-looking fortifications in and near its front to its left, around Petersburg, because of its known reliability for any work assigned it, had been ordered out between the
[p. 261]
lines as noiselessly as possible about midnight, and directed to lie in line of battle on the ground about two hundred yards from the enemy's picket line for the purpose of a morning assault. The First Brigade of the Third Division composed of five regiments, the One Hundred and Sixth and One Hundred and Fifty-first New York, Fourteenth New Jersey, Eighty-seventh Pennsylvania and Tenth Vermont Volunteer Infantry, was formed in three lines, the Tenth Vermont being on the right and the One Hundred and Sixth New York on the left forming the front line, the brigade being on the left of the Division and Corps near Fort Fisher on the side towards Hatcher's Run. As the distance between the works of the belligerent forces was the least here of any point along the front of the Sixth Corps probably, as claimed by Lieutenant-Colonel George B. Damon, in his official report, the colors of the Tenth Vermont were the first over the enemy's works in the Third Division though it is difficult to understand how in the darkness and confusion anyone could positively know this.

The nights were cold and after the first one those who were fortunate enough to possess a rubber raincoat, as I was, put it on over the blue overcoat which, when the sword belt was on made one fairly comfortable even after lying on the ground for a long time. We were not allowed to talk or move about which made the blood sluggish, and lying on the
[p. 262]
cold frosty ground most of the night, together with the surroundings, etc., was not conducive to cheerfulness, warmth or comfort. To our right, in front of Petersburg, the artillery firing was unusually brisk and even appalling. The damp heavy powder smokeladen atmosphere was stifling as the dense smoke from the ominous artillery fire of hundreds of guns all along the lines from Richmond to Five, Forks, about forty miles, except where General Park's Corps and the Sixth Corps were, where later in the night in front of the Sixth Corps, the grand finale of the battle that was to soon bring peace to our stricken country and rest to two valiant armies, was to take place, settled to the ground, which added to the gloom of a terrible night of waiting and suspense, as had been the previous two when so situated.

The enemy's earthworks were very formidable, [*] fully eight feet high and in places still higher between thickly interspersed forts and redoubts and especially in front of our brigade, in front of which works was a ditch or moat about eight feet deep and wide, partially filled with water, bridged at intervals of about fifty yards and in some places much less, with a single log hewn flat on top for the use of the pickets. In front of this moat there were three -- not "one or two" as stated in General H. G. Wright's official
[p. 263]
report -- lines of heavy abatis and chevaux-de-frise heavily wired together. With a strong force well in hand behind this formidable array of works it would have been impregnable against any assaulting column of infantry alone. The pioneer corps, Capt. S. H. Perham commanding had been assigned the unenviable task of cutting away the abatis and chevaux-de-frise in places as it advanced with us to enable the men to pass. During the night word was passed along the line that it was not known from which flank the movement to advance would begin, but to follow it whichever way it came from by advancing as it reached each company. This threw great responsibility on me as my company was in the front line and on the right of the brigade. I knew nothing of the signal gun for the general advance to be fired from Fort Fisher at "about 4.45" o'clock a. m.; indeed if it was fired amid the din I did not know it or its significance. I had just been promoted Captain of Company G, overslaughing several other First Lieutenants who had been less regularly on the fighting line.

To the right of Company G, there was no connecting line that could be seen, owing to the darkness. Not then knowing the division formation I was much perplexed over this, and finally after directing the men on the left of the Company, which joined the next company to the left, to advance with the line in case the movement forward commenced with the left flank, I concluded for obvious reasons to take my position
[p. 264]
on the right of my company, where intently watching and listening for any advance in that direction, supposing I could hear it and that I could rely on the left guide of my Company to do as directed, I paid no attention to the left flank; but shortly after the line had advanced and before any firing had occurred in our front on the advancing column, one of the men, more conscientious than the guide on the left of the Company, who had heard my orders to him came to me and said the line to the left had advanced a little before, but it had done so so silently everything on the person, canteens, etc., that would make a noise having been tied fast, in the darkness, smoke and din the advance hadn't been seen or heard by me to the left of the Company where it commenced.

There was no time for investigation or anything but prompt, vigorous action, and greatly annoyed at being placed in a false position and for other obvious reasons for I was no shirk in battle, I sprang to the front of my Company intent on catching up with the column, directed the Company to follow me which it did at first, but in the darkness that was the last seen of it, for as in most battles, the men broke, only the most intrepid taking the lead, and what became of such in this instance is not known. It would have been much better, easier and safer to have advanced when the movement first commenced, as the enemy's pickets, except such as fell back into their works, threw down their arms without firing and surrendered;
[p. 265]
and those behind their works were largely in bed fast asleep except a few in a strong fort and redoubt in front of the First Brigade, to the left of where my Company lay in line, who seemed to have been alert all night. These, as soon as they discovered we were assaulting, swept the ground we and others advanced over in front of the works -- the two lines of works here of the two armies being about two thousand yards apart more or less -- with grape and cannister, the firing commencing just as I was about half way to the enemy's works, together with desultory musketry firing, showing that none of our men were yet over them. The enemy fought most desperately in this fort, for two hours or so after daylight. Indeed, it is plain to me that it momentarily abandoned the fort at first until the bulk of our men had passed by them to the left towards Hatcher's Run, and then almost at once reoccupied it, as the discharge of artillery from it was almost continuous excepting a few minutes after I entered the enemy's works, until we took it about 8.15 o'clock a. m. The fort was to my left front, hence I did not approach it directly, but moved along to it later on after entering the works. The first redoubt from the fort about one hundred and fifty yards towards Petersburg had given up without much resistance there being but one or two guns in it, after the first weak musketry volley, the men in and infantry supporting it, running into the woods in rear, such as did not surrender.
[p. 266]
The second redoubt from the fort towards Petersburg had no artillery in it and was easily taken.

As soon as it was light enough to see, some of our heterogeneous force in which were two or three artillerymen -- for there was no organized separate Union command anywhere either inside or about the enemy's works here -- turned the enemy's gun from this first redoubt after moving it to a more advantageous point overlooking the fort, on its intrepid little party which from the first was supported by about a hundred of its infantry in the brush and woods -- a jungle -- in rear of and running down a small ravine passing between the fort and redoubt to within twenty yards of the fort and its right environment or earthwork, until finally some of our men in the last assault on it sprang into the fort, clubbed and knocked down with their discharged muskets the few remaining men who had not fled or been killed, some of whom, when lying on their backs, seizing the lanyards just within reach and persistently endeavored to fire the pieces, and were only prevented by some of our men standing dramatically over the prostrate men with inverted guns and fixed bayonet ready to impale them if they persisted. This ended the fighting in front of where the First Brigade lay before the assault, and probably in front of the whole Sixth Corps, at any rate in front of the Third Division all the works having been taken, the capture of these two works being the most difficult being nearer together than any other similar
[p. 267]
fortifications in the Sixth Corps front, which made it the hardest point to take in its front, especially as the ground was high and the enemy's artillery commanded the gradually sloping ground in front and to its right and left. There were three or four pieces of artillery in this fort which also fell into our hands. The woods a quarter of a mile in rear of the fort was swarming with armed and unarmed Johnnies. It was plucky fighting on both sides, for those engaged.

Memoir of Louis Trezevant Wigfall part 2

Trezevant Wigfall

Part 2

 If General Hood, by the term "at and near Dalton," refers to the forces after this date received by General Johnston from General Polk, he is again in error as to numbers. It was not till the 4th of May that General Polk was ordered to "move with Loring's division and other available force at your command, to Rome, Georgia, and thence unite with General Johnston." On the 6th, the day on which General Hood says this army "lay at and near Dalton, waiting the advance of the enemy," General Polk telegraphs to General Cooper from Demopolis: "My troops are concentrating and moving as directed." On the 10th, at Rome, he telegraphs the President: "The first of Loring's brigade arrived and sent forward to Resaca; the second just in; the third will arrive to-morrow morning. . . . French's brigade was to leave Blue Mountain this morning. The others will follow in succession; Ferguson will be in supporting distance day after to-morrow; Jackson's division is thirty-six hours after." Yet General Hood asserts that, four days before this, the army was "assembled" at and near Dalton, and "within the easy direction of a single commander." The last of these reënforcements joined General Johnston at New Hope Church the 26th of May, nearly three weeks after they were alleged to be "at and near Dalton," and
[p. 591]
amounted to less than nineteen thousand men. If none were lost by sickness, desertion, or the casualties of battle, which is not probable, General Johnston had at New Hope about sixty-four thousand men on the 26th of May, instead of seventy thousand, at Dalton, on the 6th -- a difference of six thousand, not very great, it is admitted, yet it shows General Hood to be not quite accurate in his estimates.

General Hood asserts that General Johnston lost twenty-two thousand seven hundred men in his retreat, and offers to prove that by the record. At New Hope he had about sixty-four thousand men. The field returns of the 10th of July, the last made while the army were under his command, shows, at Atlanta: forty thousand six hundred and fifty-six infantry and artillery, and ten thousand two hundred and seventy-six cavalry -- fifty thousand nine hundred and thirty-two -- say fifty-one thousand. Deduct this from sixty-four thousand and it leaves thirteen thousand loss in artillery, infantry, and cavalry, instead of twenty-two thousand seven hundred, as alleged by General Hood. General Johnston does not give the losses of his cavalry, for want of reports. He had four thousand at Dalton, and received four thousand (Polk's) at Adairsville on the 17th of May -- eight thousand. At Atlanta he had ten thousand two hundred and seventy-six, showing that he had recruited his cavalry twenty-two hundred and seventy-six over and above his losses. Leaving out his cavalry, he had at Atlanta, 10th of July, forty thousand six hundred and fifty-six infantry and artillery. At New Hope he had of all arms sixty-four thousand. Of these, eight thousand were cavalry, supposing it not to have increased by recruiting up to that time. That gives him fifty-six thousand infantry and artillery. At Atlanta he had, of these arms, forty thousand six hundred and fifty-six, which deduct from the fifty-six thousand and it shows his losses to be, in infantry and artillery, fifteen thousand three hundred and forty-four.

Under repeated orders from the War Department, General Johnston had before this time sent off three regiments. Supposing them to average two hundred effective total, they
[p. 592]
would amount to six hundred each; deduct that amount from the fifteen thousand three hundred and forty-four, and it leaves but fourteen thousand seven hundred and forty-four total loss in killed, wounded, deserters, stragglers, and prisoners, of his infantry and artillery. From this amount deduct ten thousand killed and wounded, and we have four thousand seven hundred and forty-four lost from all other causes in these arms. But it appears that the cavalry had increased twenty-two hundred and seventy-six. Deduct this from the four thousand seven hundred and forty-four, and his losses in all arms, except in killed and wounded, amount to but twenty-four hundred and sixty-eight.

We have, then, a loss by desertion and straggling, and prisoners, of only some two thousand five hundred from the "digging and retreating" policy. The demoralization of the army could not have been as great as General Hood supposes, or its losses from these causes would have been greater. The "working by night and traveling by day" would seem, too, not to be a very bad policy where the army has confidence in its leader.

General Hood asserts that a retreating army must lose more by straggling and desertion, if it does not fight, than it would in killed and wounded if it does. He attempts to show this by what he regards well-established principles, and not by figures. Napier differs from General Hood on this point. In discussing the losses of Massena from the Torres Vedras, he says: "It is unquestionable that a retreating army should fight as little as possible."

Memoir of Louis Trezevant Wigfall part 3

Trezevant Wigfall

Part 3

General Hood also insists that the army at Atlanta was greatly demoralized by the loss of men and officers, and by constant falling back. I do not recollect any general officer, except General Polk, who was killed while Johnston was in command; there may have been others, but certainly not many. What were his losses in general officers from Atlanta to Nashville? His march from Jonesboro to the Tennessee line was a retreat, and from Nashville to Tupelo; yet he lost by desertion but three hundred, and left the army in fine spirits. The demoralization of Johnston's
[p. 593]
army cannot be accounted for on this theory. But was it demoralized? It fought well when he first took command. His disasters around Atlanta are not attributed by him to a want of spirit in the men, but to incompetency in the officers. He could not have his orders executed. I incline to the opinion that he is mistaken as much as to his facts as he is in his theory.

General Hood insinuates that General Johnston attempts to dodge an acknowledgment of his full losses by "excluding the idea of prisoners," and charges that his official returns show more than seven thousand under the head of "absent without leave." This is a very grave charge against an officer and a gentleman -- General Hood should know that the usual, if not only, mode of stating the loss of prisoners is in a marginal note opposite the column of "absent without leave." It can never be other than an approximate estimate; for no general can know how many of his "absent without leave," after a battle, have gone voluntarily to the enemy, and how many have been captured. General Hood should know also that the absent and prisoners of an army are continued on its rolls from time to time, as the "field-returns" are made out, without reference to a change of commanders, and that it is very possible, therefore, that a part, or even the whole, of the seven thousand prisoners may have been lost when the army was under the command of General Bragg. The rout at Missionary Ridge had occurred before General Johnston took command. This is a matter, however, which especially concerns General Hood. The field return of the 10th of July shows a loss of not quite seven thousand prisoners (six thousand nine hundred and ninety-four). Opposite General Hood's corps is this note: "Two hundred and thirty-eight officers and four thousand five hundred and ninety-seven men, prisoners of war, are reported among the `absent without leave.'" This shows that, out of not quite seven thousand prisoners of war, nearly five thousand (four thousand eight hundred and thirty-five) were captured from his corps. He knows whether they were lost by him under Johnston, or by some
[p. 594]
one else, under Bragg. For the accuracy of the statement, he, and not General Johnston, is responsible. The return of the army is only a consolidation of the returns of the corps commanders.

But if there were seven thousand prisoners taken during the retreat from Dalton, how does he account for the fact shown by the official returns that General Johnston had, at Atlanta, on the 10th of July, leaving out his killed and wounded, within twenty-five hundred men of the number put under his command previously? How can this excess of loss in prisoners over his total loss (except in killed and wounded) be explained? Upon no other hypothesis than that his army increased by recruiting more rapidly than it decreased by straggling and loss of prisoners. The morale of the army, then, could not have been very bad -- at least not as bad as it is supposed by General Hood to have been. Nor could the people of the territory which General Johnston was "abandoning" have lost all confidence in him. It must have been from them that his recruits were gathered.

It is alleged that at Dalton "the enemy was but little superior in numbers, none in organization and discipline, and inferior in spirit and confidence." The army which is described as "inferior in spirit and confidence" to Johnston's was the one which had lately routed it at Missionary Ridge, under Bragg. An army flushed with victory is not usually wanting "in spirit and confidence." Did the presence of Johnston cause them to doubt their future success? What infused "spirit and confidence" into the Army of Tennessee? Was it the consciousness that it, at last, had a commander who, careless of his own blood, was careful of that of his men, who knew when to take them under fire and how to bring them out, and whose thorough soldiership would save them from ever being uselessly slaughtered by being led to battle, except when some good purpose was to be accomplished, or some brilliant victory achieved? If the "discipline and organization" of the army were as perfect as described, who produced it? For four months it had been under the control
[p. 595]
of Johnston. What evidence has General Hood to sustain his assertion that at Dalton the enemy was but little superior to us in numbers? He relies upon Sherman's statement that he was as strong at Atlanta as when the campaign opened. His army at Missionary Ridge was estimated at eighty thousand. He was afterward reënforced by the army from Knoxville and the troops from North Alabama, besides other. Our scouts reported that he had been reënforced with at least thirty thousand men. General Sherman told General Govan, or said in his presence, that he commenced the campaign with one hundred and ten thousand. I have never heard it estimated at less than ninety thousand infantry and artillery. In July General Wheeler estimated it between sixty-five and seventy thousand. The Northern papers, about that time, admitted his losses to be forty-five thousand. His cavalry was estimated by General Wheeler at not less than fifteen thousand. Johnston in the mean time, under orders of the War Department, sent off two brigades and received one.

Memoir of Louis Trezevant Wigfall part 4

Louis Trezevant Wigfall

Part 4 

General Hood charges that General Johnston did not intend to hold Atlanta. As evidence of this, he says that no officer or soldier believed it, and that General Johnston had thrown up no intrenchments in front of his lines opposite Peach-tree Creek. If General Johnston intended, as he says he did, to strike the head of Sherman's columns, as soon as they appeared across Peach-tree Creek, and before they were intrenched, or had time even to deploy into line of battle, what use had he for field-works? They would have been in his way if erected, and his men would have been uselessly fatigued in constructing them. Not having been present, I cannot speak of the opinion of the army. But, admitting the fact, I submit that the opinion of the army is not always evidence of the intentions of the general. Is it not possible, too, that General Hood may have mistaken his own opinion for that of the army? The evidence that General Johnston did intend to hold the place is given in his report. In addition, it may be added that he held New Hope for a fortnight, and only left it because the enemy
[p. 596]
left their intrenchments confronting it -- moving to the railroad and to the rear. He then held a position in front of Kenesaw for a month, and left that, at last, because, by extending his intrenchments, Sherman had got nearer to Atlanta by several miles than we were. In all the fighting we had been successful, and that in positions frequently prepared for defense in a few hours. Is it probable, then, that General Johnston would not have attempted to hold a place fortified already to his hand under the direction of the Engineer Bureau, and previously inspected by Major-General Gilmer, the chief-engineer of our army? Why had he been strengthening it from the 5th of July, with all the labor he could command, if he did not intend to defend it, in the event of his failing to crush the enemy at Peach-tree Creek? Why was he strengthening it at the very moment of his removal? If the position was as weak as described by General Hood, why did Sherman not attempt to carry it by assault?

The place, in my judgment, could not have been taken either by assault or investment. What are the facts? General Sherman first seized the Augusta road, and held it for six weeks to no purpose. To seize the Macon road he had to let go that to Augusta, which could have supplied our army. In making that movement, he exposed his flank to attack, which blunder was not taken advantage of. His movement was concealed by a curtain of cavalry, and was probably not known to General Hood in time. A large portion of his cavalry under Wheeler was in Sherman's rear, operating on his line of communications. To avoid any such contre-temps, General Johnston kept his cavalry in hand to watch the movement of the enemy and avoid being out-flanked. But I do not propose to discuss General Hood's campaign, which he says was without fault. My purpose is simply to correct errors into which, in my judgment, he has fallen as to General Johnston's, and to do this General Hood has rendered it necessary to consider somewhat the operations around Atlanta. If he did, as he supposes, really commit no blunder, he is probably the only general,
[p. 597]
living or dead, who can claim such good fortune. Napier says: "The greatest masters of the art may err; he who wars walks in a mist, through which the keenest eyes cannot always discern the right path." Turenne exclaims: "Speak to me of a general who has made no mistakes in war, and you speak of one who has seldom made war."

General Hood charges as a fault that General Johnston abandoned territory which he ought to have defended. Similar objections were made by the King of Spain to Soult's plan of the campaign of Talavera, to which the Duke of Dalmatia replied: "Under present circumstances, we cannot avoid the sacrifices of some territory. . . . This will not be distressing as it may appear, because the moment we have beaten and dispersed the enemy's masses we shall recover all our ground. . . . I conceive it impossible to finish this war by detachments. It is large masses only, the strongest that you can form, that will succeed."

Had all the scattered forces in Mississippi and Alabama been concentrated upon Sherman's rear when he was one hundred and forty miles in the interior, and his communications been thoroughly cut, what to-day would have been our condition? "All our ground recovered," Sherman's army destroyed, and Johnston's ready to raise the siege of Richmond or cross the Ohio.

Again, it is alleged that the mountainous country of Northern Georgia offered great advantages, which were abandoned. Napier says: "Here it may be well to notice an error relative to the strength of mountain-defiles, common enough even among men who, with some experience, have taken a contracted view of their profession. From such persons it is usual to hear of narrow passes in which the greatest multitudes may be resisted. Now, without stopping to prove that local strength is nothing if the flanks can be turned by other roads, we may be certain that there are few positions so difficult as to render superior numbers of no avail. Where one man can climb, another can, and a good and numerous infantry crowning the acclivities on the right and left of a disputed pass will soon oblige the defenders
[p. 598]
to retreat or fight upon equal terms. If this takes place at any point of an extended front of defiles, such as those of the Sierra Morena, the dangerous consequences to the whole of the beaten army are obvious. Hence such pases should only be considered as fixed points around which an army should operate freely in defense of more expanded positions; for defiles are doors, the keys of which are the summits of the hills around them. A bridge is a defile, yet troops are posted not in the middle, but behind a bridge, to defend the passage." 

Memoir of Louis Trezevant Wigfall part 5

Louis Trezevant Wigfall

Part 5

Peach-tree Creek offered every advantage which deep rivers and mountain-passes could afford. It was impassable for an army, except at a few points. Johnston expected to fall upon the heads of the enemy's columns as they issued from these crossings, and crush them before they could form. From General Hood's report of his own operations, it seems they were allowed time not only to form, but intrench before they were attacked.

What is called General Johnston's defensive policy is severely criticised. Fewer men are lost by fighting than by retreating, etc.

General Hood does not seem to consider sufficiently the worth of an army, nor the consequences which follow the destruction of one. Napoleon said that the very first duty which a general owed to his country was to preserve his army. After the battles of Ocana and Alba de Tormes, in which Ariazaga lost his army, he was defended upon the ground that the campaign was undertaken by the directions of his government. Napier repudiates such defense. He says: "Ariazaga obeyed the orders of his government! No general is bound to obey orders (at least without remonstrance) which involves the safety of his army; so that he should sacrifice every thing but victory, and many great commanders have sacrificed even victory rather than appear to undervalue this vital principle. . . .

"Sir Arthur Wellesley absolutely refused to coöperate in this short and violent campaign. He remained a quiet spectator of events at the most critical period of the war;
[p. 599]
and yet, on paper, the Spanish project promised well. . . . This man, so cautious, so conscious of the enemy's superiority, was laying the foundation of measures that finally carried him triumphant through the Peninsular War. False, then, are the opinions of those who, asserting that Napoleon might have been driven over the Ebro in 1808-'9, blame Sir John Moore's conduct. Such reasons would as certainly have charged the ruin of Spain on Sir Arthur Wellesley, if, at this period, the chances of war had sent him to his grave. But in all times the wise and brave man's toil has been the sport of fools."

The complaint against General Johnston cannot be that he would not fight, for he fought almost every day, killing and wounding forty-five thousand of the enemy, and losing ten thousand himself. It is that he did not stake the cause of his country on a single cast of the dice -- that he would not risk all on the issue of a single battle. When urged by the Portuguese regency to a like course in 1810, Lord Wellington replied: "I have little doubt of final success, but I have fought a sufficient number of battles to know that the result of any is not certain, even with the best arrangements." He persisted in his defensive policy, and saved Portugal from subjugation. When he had determined to abandon Spain and retreat through Portugal to Lisbon, he was urged to relieve the garrison of Ciudad Rodrigo, containing five thousand men. Napier says: "This was a trying moment. He had in a manner pledged himself, his army was close at hand, the garrison brave and distressed, and the governor honorably fulfilled his part. To permit such a place to fall without a stroke would be a grievous disaster, and a more grievous dishonor to the British arms. The troops desired the enterprise; the Spaniards demanded it as a proof of good faith; the Portuguese, to keep the war away from their own country; finally, policy seemed to call for this effort, lest the world might deem the promised defense of Portugal a heartless and hollow boast. Lord Wellington refused to venture even a brigade, and thus proved himself a great commander, and of a steadfast mind. It
[p. 600]
was not a single campaign, but a terrible war that he had undertaken. . . . What would even a momentary success have availed? Five thousand men brought off from Ciudad Rodrigo would have ill supplied the ten or twelve thousand men lost in the battle, and the temporary relief of the fortress would have been a poor compensation for the loss of Portugal. . . . Massena, sagacious and well understanding his business, only desired that the attempt should be made. He held back his troops, appeared careless, and, in his proclamations, taunted the English general that he was afraid; that the sails were flapping on the ships prepared to carry him away; that he was a man who, insensible to military honor, permitted his ally's towns to fall without risking a shot to save them, or to redeem his plighted word. But all this subtlety failed. Lord Wellington was unmoved, and abided his own time. `If thou art a great general, Marius, come down and fight.' `If thou art a great general, Silo, make me come down and fight!'"

Memoir of Louis Trezevant Wigfall part 6

Louis Trezevant Wigfall

Part 6

 General McCook, United States Army, told several of our officers, made prisoners by him, but rescued by Wheeler, that Sherman said, on hearing the change of commanders of our army, that "heretofore the fighting had been as Johnston pleased, but that hereafter it would be as he pleased." I mention this not in disparagement of General Hood. The removal of Johnston was an order to General Hood to adopt the offensive policy and deliver battle whenever the enemy appeared. It is to be regretted that General Hood has permitted himself to become the advocate of that policy, for which he was in no way responsible.

History is always repeating itself! The Portuguese Government, in 1810, became "impatient" of Wellington's delays. Fortunately for the country over which they ruled, he was not under their control. In a dispatch of 7th September, he says: "It appears that the government have lately discovered that we are all wrong; that they have become impatient for the defeat of the enemy; and, in imitation of the central junta, called out for a battle and
[p. 601]
early success. If I had had the power, I would have prevented the Spanish armies from attending to that call" (alluding to Ariazaga's campaign), "and, if I had, the cause would now have been safe; and, having the power now in my hands, I will not lose the only chance which remains of saving the cause by paying the smallest attention to the senseless suggestions of the Portuguese Government."

It was in this campaign that Wellington established, beyond all question, his reputation as a soldier, and that by declining battle he destroyed the army of Massena and saved Portugal. For adopting a similar policy, Johnston was removed from his command. The result shows the wisdom of the general, and the folly of the Administration. He was covered with disgrace, but now wears the robe of honor in which popular approval has clothed him. He was superseded by order of the President, and he has been restored to command by General Lee. The President who superseded him has himself been superseded. In the effort to destroy Johnston, the President saved Sherman from destruction.

What good to the cause was expected to result from this attack? Is it intended again to remove him if the public mind can be prepared for such an event? Is it desired that the soldiers under him shall have their faith in him shaken? To avoid either of these results I have felt it my duty to say what I have. I have examined carefully the correspondence between the Executive Department and General Johnston during that eventful capaign, sent to the Senate, and now ordered to be published, and the field-returns, which show the strength of the army.

From the evidence before me, I think that General Hood has failed to make out his case. Others must judge as to correctness of my conclusions.

As to General Hood's defense of himself against General Johnston's supposed strictures on him, I have nothing to say. He could have embodied it, I think, with propriety, in his report, if he preferred to do so, though it would have possibly been more regular and more in accordance with the
[p. 602]
usage of the service had he sent it as a supplement to his original report, through his superior officer. General Johnston could then have made the correction, if in error; if not, he would have been afforded the opportunity of making such comments as he might think proper.

Memoir of Sidney Andrews page 2

I fell into some talk with him concerning the political situation, and found him of bitter spirit toward what he was pleased to denominate "the infernal radicals." When I asked him what should be done, he answered: "You Northern people are making a great mistake in your treatment of the South. We are thoroughly whipped; we give up slavery forever; and now we want you to quit reproaching us. Let us back into the Union, and then come down here and help us build up the country."

Every little variation from the old order of things excites the comment "Yankee notion," in which there is sometimes good-natured querulousness and sometimes a sharp spice of contempt. Stopping a moment this afternoon in a store where were three or four intelligent men, one of them asked me the use of the "thing" I had in my hand. It was one of the handle-and-straps so common in the North for carrying shawls, cloaks, overcoats, &c. Seeing that none of them had any idea what it was, I explained its use. "Well, now, what a Yankee notion!" "Yes," answered another, "but how handy it is."

To bring here the conveniences and comforts of our Northern civilization, no less than the Northern idea of right and wrong, justice and injustice, humanity and inhumanity, is the work ready for the hand of every New England man and woman who stands waiting. There is much prejudice to overcome, and some of it is better and aggravating; but the measure of success won by Northern men already in the field is an earnest of the reward for
[p. 5]
others. Self-interest is a masterful agent in modern civilization.

Business is reviving slowly, though perhaps the more surely. The resident merchants are mostly at the bottom of the ladder of prosperity. They have idled away the summer in vain regrets for vanished hopes, and most of them are only just now beginning to wake to the new life. Some have already been North for goods, but more are preparing to go; not heeding that, while they vacillate with laggard time, Northern men are springing in with hands swift to catch opportunity. It pains me to see the apathy and indifference that so generally prevails; but the worst feature of the situation is, that so many young men are not only idle, but give no promise of being otherwise in the immediate future.

Many of the stores were more or less injured by the shelling. A few of these have been already repaired, and are now occupied, -- very likely by Northern men. A couple of dozen, great and small, are now in process of repair; and scores stand with closed shutters or gaping doors and windows. The doubt as to the title of property, and the wise caution of the President in granting pardons, unquestionably has something to do with the stagnation so painfully apparent; but very much of it is due to the hesitating shiftlessness of even the Southern merchant, who forever lets I dare not wait upon I would. Rents of eligible storerooms are at least from one fourth to one third higher than before the war, and resident business men say only Northern men who intend staying but a short time can afford to pay present prices. I'm sure I can't see how any one can afford to pay them, but I know the demand is greater than the supply.

I queried of the returning merchants on the steamship how they were received in the North. An Augusta man complained that he could get no credit, and that there was a disposition to be grinding and exacting. One Charleston
[p. 6]
man said he asked for sixty days, and got it without a word of objection. Another told me that he asked for four months was given three, and treated like a gentleman everywhere. Another showed me the receipt for a debt of about fifteen hundred dollars contracted before the war, which he had paid in full; and when he asked for four months on a bill of eight thousand dollars, it was readily given. Still another settled his old indebtedness with one third cash and eight and twelve months notes for the balance. while he got ninety days on three fourths of his new bill. One man said he had many friends in the North, and they all knew him for a thorough Rebel; he expected some taunts, but tried to carry himself like a gentleman, and was courteously received, "even in Boston."

I judge that such of the merchants as first went North and settled with their creditors made more favorable terms than those who went later. If it be said that those were men who had loved the Union, while these are men who had not; that those were men of keen sense of commercial honor and integrity, while these are men who cared less for an adjustment; that those are men who deserved favors, while these are men who have forfeited all claim to special consideration, -- if this be said, the pith of the matter will probably be hit so far as regards most of those who now complain of their reception.

Yet there are men who deserved better than they have received. These are they who, whatever their views on the questions at issue in the war, meant to pay all their debts. Most of them are men who loved the Union and hated secession.. That there were such men in all parts of the State is beyond question. When the negroes say any one was a Union man during the war, the fact is established; from their judgment and testimony there is no appeal. These men, having no faith in the Confederacy, put everything they could into cotton or rosin or turpentine, -- hoping
[p. 7]
to save something from the general wreck they saw impending, -- only to find in the end that they are scarcely richer than those who invested everything in Confederate bonds.

It would seem that it is not clearly understood how thoroughly Sherman's army destroyed everything in its line of march, -- destroyed it without questioning who suffered by the action. That this wholesale destruction was often without orders, and often against most positive orders, does not change the fact of destruction. The Rebel leaders were, too, in their way, even more wanton, and just as thorough as our army in destroying property. They did not burn houses and barns and fences as we did; but, during the last three months of the war, they burned immense quantities of cotton and rosin.

The action of the two armies put it out of the power of men to pay their debts. The values and the bases of value were nearly all destroyed. Money lost about everything it had saved. Thousands of men who were honest in purpose have lost everything but honor. The cotton with which they meant to pay their debts has been burned, and they are without other means. What is the part of wisdom in respect to such men? It certainly cannot be to strip them of the last remnant. Many of them will pay in whole or in part, if proper consideration be shown them. It is no question of favor to any one as a favor, but a pure question of business, -- how shall the commercial relations of the two sections be re-established? In determining it, the actual and exceptional condition of the State with respect to property should be constantly borne in mind.

Yet when all this is said in favor of one class of merchants, it must, in good conscience, be added, that by far a larger class is showing itself unworthy of anything but stringent measures. "How do you find the feeling?" said I to a gentleman of national reputation, who is now here
[p. 8]
settling the affairs of a very large New York house. "Well, there are a good many merchants who don't mean to pay anything more than they are obliged to," said he in reply. I asked of one of the leading merchants this morning, "Are your people generally disposed to settle their accounts?" His answer was, "Those who expect to continue business must of course do so." "How about the others?" I queried. "I'm afraid there is n't so much commercial honor as there should be," he replied. I am told of one firm which represented itself entirely ruined, when subsequent investigation showed that it had five thousand pounds sterling to its credit in Liverpool; and of another which offered only thirty cents on the dollar, when its property in New York alone will cover over seventy cents on the dollar of its entire indebtedness.

That Rebellion sapped the foundations of commercial integrity in the State is beyond question. That much of the Northern indebtedness will never be paid is also beyond question. What is desirable is, that creditors should become cognizant of all the facts in the case before fixing terms. For the rascal there is but one set of terms; for the honest man there should be every possible consideration.

The city is under thorough military rule; but the iron hand rests very lightly. Soldiers do police duty, and there is some nine-o'clock regulation; but, so far as I can learn, anybody goes anywhere at all hours of the night without molestation. "There never was such good order here before," said an old colored man to me. The main street is swept twice a week, and all garbage is removed at sunrise. "If the Yankees was to stay here always and keep the city so clean, I don't reckon we'd have `yellow jack' here any more," was a remark I overheard on the street. "Now is de fust time sence I can 'mem'er when brack men was safe in de street af'er nightfall," stated the negro tailor in whose shop I sat an hour yesterday.
[p. 9]

On the surface, Charleston is quiet and well behaved; and I do not doubt that the more intelligent citizens are wholly sincere in their expressions of a desire for peace and reunion. The city has been humbled as no other city has been; and I can't see how any man, after spending a few days here, can desire that it shall be further humiliated merely for revenge. Whether it has been humiliated enough for health is another thing. Said one of the Charlestonians on the boat, "You won't see the real sentiment of our people, for we are under military rule; we are whipped, and we are going to make the best of things; but we hate Massachusetts as much as we ever did." This idea of making the best of things is one I have heard from scores of persons. I find very few who hesitate to frankly own that the South has been beaten. "We made the best fight we could, but you were too strong for us, and now we are only anxious to get back into the old Union and live as happily as we can," said a large cotton factor. I find very few who make any special profession of Unionism; but they are almost unanimous in declaring that they have no desire but to live as good and quiet citizens under the laws.

For the first two months of our occupancy of the city scarcely a white woman but those of the poorer classes was seen on the street, and very few were even seen at the windows and doors of the residences. That order of things is now, happily, changed. There does n't yet appear to be as much freedom of appearance as would be natural; but very many of what are called the "first ladies" are to be seen shopping in the morning and promenading in the evening. They, much more than the men, have contemptuous motions for the negro soldiers; and scorn for Northern men is frequently apparent in the swing of their skirts when passing on the sidewalk.

One does n't observe so much pleasantness and cheerfulness as would be agreeable; but the general demeanor is
[p. 10]
quite consonant with the general mourning costume. A stroller at sunset sees not a few pale and pensive-faced young women of exquisite beauty; and a rambler during the evening not unfrequently hears a strain of touching melody from the darkened parlor of some roomy old mansion, with now and then one of the ringing, passionate airs with which the Southern heart has been fired during the war.

Mothers yet teach their children hate of the North, I judge; for when I asked a bright-eyed girl of half a dozen years, with whom I walked on a back street for a block or two, whose girl she was, she promptly answered, "A Rebel mother's girl." Patience, good people who love liberty, patience; this petty woman's spite will bite itself to death in time.

Down in the churchyard of St. Philip's, one of the richest and most aristocratic of churches in this proud city, is a grave which every stranger is curious to see. There are only the four plain panelled brick walls about three feet high, and on them a mottled white marble slab, some nine feet by four in size. At the head of the grave is a single sickly ten-foot-high magnolia tree. At each corner of the foot is a sprawling and tangled damask rose-bush, and about midway on the right there is also a small white rose-bush. All around the little plat is a border of myrtle, sweet in its rich greenness, but untrimmed and broken and goat-eaten. It is the grave of the father of the Rebellion, and on the marble slab there is cut the one word, --

"CALHOUN."

This churchyard symbolizes the city of Charleston. Children and goats crawl through a convenient hole in the front wall, and play at will among the sunken graves and broken tombstones. There is everywhere a wealth of offal and garbage and beef-bones. A mangy cur was slinking among the stones, and I found a hole three feet deep which he had dug at the foot of one of the graves. Children were quarrelling
[p. 11]
for flowers over one of the more recent mounds. The whole yard is grown up to weeds and brush, and the place is desolate and dreary as it well can be; more desolate because cruel hands have broken away the corners of the great marble slab of Calhoun, -- for mementos, I suppose. Time was when South Carolina guarded this grave as a holy spot. Now it lies in ruin with her chief city. When Northern life shall rebuild and revivify that city, let us pray it may also set chaste and simple beauty around this grave; for there is no need to wish the brave but bad spirit of Calhoun greater punishment than it must have in seeing the woe and waste and mourning which the war has brought the region he loved so well.

Memoir of Sidney Andrews page 3

Memoir of Sidney Andrews

 II. MANNERS AND CUSTOMS IN THE INTERIOR OF SOUTH CAROLINA.

Orangeburg C. H., September 7, 1865.

FROM Charleston to Orangeburg Court House is seventy-seven miles. Route, South Carolina Railroad. Time, seven and a half hours. Fare, five dollars. There is one train per day each way. Our train consisted of five freight-cars, the baggage-car, a box freight-car with seats for negroes, and one passenger-coach. The down train, which we met at Branchville, -- where Sherman's army was to find its doom, -- consisted of seven freight-cars, four of which were filled with troops on the way to Charleston and home, the baggage-car, and two passenger-coaches. Our one car was uncomfortably full when we started; but only eleven of the passengers came through.

"What sort of accommodations can I get at Orangeburg?" I asked of a friend in Charleston.
[p. 12]

"You're not going to stop up there? O you can't do it!"

"Well, I shall try it, at all events."

"Don't do it; Orangeburg is just as good as any of these towns; but I advise you to shun all of'em. The accommodations are awful: push right on to Columbia."

I was n't to be put down that way, for I had consulted a gazetteer, and learned that "Orangeburg is a pleasant and thriving town on the northeast bank of the north fork of the Edisto River. It is in the midst of a farming district, and is the centre of a large cotton trade. Population two thousand seven hundred." That was before the war, and I knew the place had been partly burned; but I felt confident that my friend exaggerated.

We left the city at seven and a half o'clock in the morning. Twenty miles out, the conductor came through the car, and collected our fares; for no tickets are sold at Charleston. In front of me sat a good-looking young woman, of about twenty-two, I judged. Hearing her very plainly say that she was going to Orangeburg, I determined to ask her about the town and its hotel accommodations.

"Yes, I live there," she said.

"Is there a hotel in the town, or any place at which a person can stop?"

"O yes, there 's a hotel," she said; and after a pause, she added, "but it's hardly such a place as a gentleman would choose, I think."

She spoke pleasantly enough, and, having answered my question, might have dropped the conversation; instead of which, she went on to say that persons who had occasion to stop in town for some days frequently took a room at a private house, and were much better suited than at the hotel.

I did the only thing I well could do, -- the thing that it was perfectly natural I should do. I asked her if she could mention one or two private houses at which I might ask for accommodations, if the hotel proved unendurable.
[p. 13]

I fully expected that she would say her mother sometimes accommodated gentlemen; and I may as well own that I had determined what reply I should make to that announcement.

Instead, however, she turned in her seat so as to face me, and said, with considerable vim, "Are you a Yankee?"

The question surprised me; and I simply answered, "From the North."

"By what right do you presume to speak to me, sir?" she asked, in a clear and snapping tone, that caught the ears and eyes of most of the passengers.

The strangeness of the question, no less than the remarkable change in her manner, coupled with the fact that I knew myself to be under the observation of thirty or more persons of Southern birth and feeling, embarrassed me to such degree that I could only stammer, "By the right which I supposed a gentleman always had to ask a lady a civil question."

"Well, sir, I don't choose to talk with you."

And she settled herself sharply into her seat, jerked her little body into a very upright position, and squared her shoulders in a very positive manner, -- while I sat flushed and confused.

What should I do about it? That was a question I asked myself twenty times per hour for the next thirty miles. I was seriously inclined to apologize, though I hardly knew for what; but did n't, for I feared the little Rebel might snub me again, if I gave her an opportunity. In front of her sat a young man who had been a captain in the Rebel army. Him she soon engaged in conversation, and they cheered the slow miles with most lively chat. Surely, thought I, this is beginning the three months' journey unfortunately. I could have borne her indignation quite easily; but each individual in the car soon made me aware that my Yankee baseness was well known and thoroughly appreciated.
[p. 14]

The forenoon wore away, and the crazy old engine dragged itself along. Little Miss was vivacious and entertaining; the ex-officer was evidently in a cheerful frame of mind; I sat alternating between repentance and indignation. Finally the whistle sounded for Branchville.

Missy rose in her seat, shook out her skirts, drew on her small thread glove, turned to me, -- mind you, not to the ex-officer, but to me, -- and asked me if I would be good enough to hand out her basket for her.

Here was another surprise. Queer creatures, these little Rebels, said I to myself, as I followed her out, -- carrying the not heavy basket. She did n't stop when we reached the platform of the station-house, but walked on towards its upper end; and I followed, demurely, but wonderingly. Fifteen or twenty yards away from the car, she suddenly stopped, and turned quickly upon me with "Thank you; I want to apologize to you; I was rude."

And here was the greatest surprise of all! It caught me in confusion; but I managed to say something to the effect that perhaps I was too forward in asking the question I did.

"No, you were not. It was right that you should ask it, and I was rude to answer you so uncivilly. But you caught me at a disadvantage; I had n't spoken to a Federal since Sumter was taken."

"Well, it did n't hurt you very much, did it?" said I. Whereat she laughed and I laughed, and then the engine whistled.

"I'm going to stop here a day or two," she remarked; and then, "You'll shake hands, won't you?" as I started for the car. So we shook hands, and I left her standing on the platform.

I had n't learned much about my chances for comfort in Orangeburg, however.

We got here at three o'clock in the afternoon. I was determined to stop, let the accommodations be what they
[p. 15]
would, and firmly said "No" when the stage agent at the depot urged me to take a seat for Columbia.

There were five passengers with baggage. Twenty-five negroes crowded around us, and troubled the hot air with harsh clamor. "Give yer baggage here, sir." "Luf dis yer nig tote yer plun'er, Mass'r." "Have yer balese toted to de hotel, sah?" "Tuk a hack up town, Mass'r?"

There was the man I wanted. He proved to be a strapping boy of thirteen or fourteen, who tossed my valise to the top of his head and strode off with both hands swinging.

I found the "hack" to be a rickety old short-boxed spring wagon, with two rough board seats, on the back one of which was a worn-out cushion, over both being a canvas supported on sticks nailed to each corner of the box. This establishment was drawn by a scrawny lame mule, and we were seventeen minutes in accomplishing the half-mile, which the boy called it, up to the hotel.

I was a little distrustful about the hotel; and learning from the driver that boarders were sometimes taken at another house, I stopped there and asked the white girl of fifteen, whom I found on the piazza, if they could give me meals and lodgings for about three days. She thought they could, but would call her mother. So much of the house and grounds as I could see presented an inviting appearance, and I indulged in visions of a pleasant chamber and many dreamy hours on the broad piazza. Presently "mother" appeared. She was a plump woman of thirty-three, perhaps.

"Yes, sir, we have a couple of rooms, and we sometimes take transient boarders," said she, answering the question I put to the girl.

"I am stopping three or four days in town, and had much rather be at a pleasant private house than at the hotel," I said.

Memoir of Sidney Andrews page 4

THE SITUATION WITH RESPECT TO THE NEGRO

Orangeburg C. H., September 9, 1865.

RECALLING how persistently the whites of this State have claimed, for twenty-five years, to be the negro's special friends, and seeing, as the traveller does, how these whites treat this poor black, one cannot help praying that he may be saved from his friends in future. Yet this cannot be. Talk never so plausibly and eloquently as any one may of colonization or deportation, the inexorable fact remains, that the negro is in South Carolina, and must remain here till God pleases to call him away. The problem involved in his future must be met on the soil of which he is native; and any attempt to solve it elsewhere than in the house of these his so-called special friends will be futile.

The work of the North, in respect to South Carolina, is twofold: the white man must be taught what the negro's rights are, and the negro must be taught to wait patiently and wisely for the full recognition of those rights in his own old home. He waited so long in the house of bondage for the birthright of freedom, that waiting is weary work for him now; yet there is nothing else for him and us, -- nothing but faith, and labor, and waiting, and, finally, rest in victory.

The city negro and the country negro are as much unlike
[p. 22]
as two races. So, too, the city white man and the country white man differ much from each other. The latter, however, is just what he chooses to be, while the country negro is just what slavery and his late owners have made him. Tell me what you will derogatory of the country negro, and very likely I shall assent to most of the language you use. He is very often, and perhaps generally, idle, vicious, improvident, negligent, and unfit to care well for his interests. In himself, he is a hard, coarse, unlovely fact, and no amount of idealizing can make him otherwise. Yet, for all that, he is worth quite as much as the average country white.

The negro, one may say, is made by his master. I even doubt if he is, in many cases, morally responsible for his acts. With him there is no theft when he takes small property from the white; there is, of course, crime in the eye of the law, but there is none in the design or consciousness of the negro. Has not every day of his existence taught him that robbery is no crime? So, too, if this uncouth freedman, just from the plantation, falls into a passion and half kills somebody, you will utterly fail in your effort to make him understand that he has committed a grave crime. Has not his whole life been witness of just such right and lawful outrage on humanity? This language may indicate a bad state of affairs; but it points out certain conditions with respect to the negro that must be taken into account by any one undertaking to deal with him as a freedman.

Everybody talks about the negro, at all hours of the day, and under all circumstances. One might in truth say -- using the elegant language of opposition orators in Congress -- that "the people have got nigger on the brain." Let conversation begin where it will, it ends with Sambo.

I scarcely talk with any white man who fails to tell me how anxious many of the negroes are to return to their old homes. In coming up from Charleston I heard of not less than eleven in this condition, and mention has been made
[p. 23]
to me here in Orangeburg of at least a score. The first curious circumstance is, that none of them are allowed to return; and the second is, that I can't find any of those desirous of returning. I presume I have asked over a hundred negroes here and in Charleston if they wanted to go back and live with their old masters as slaves, or if they knew any negro who did desire to return to that condition, and I have yet to find the first one who hesitates an instant in answering "No."

I spoke of this difficulty I have in finding a single negro who loved slavery better than he does freedom to an intelligent gentleman whom I met here last evening, -- a member of the Rhett family. "I am surprised to hear that," said he; "but I suppose it's because you are from the North, and the negro don't dare to tell you his real feeling." I asked if the blacks don't generally consider Northern men their friends. "O yes," he answered, "and that's the very reason why you can't find out what they think."

They deserve better treatment than they get at our hands in Orangeburg, at least; and I am told that what I see here is a forecast of what I shall see in all parts of the State. Theoretically, and in the intent of Congress, the Freedmen's Bureau stands as the next friend of the blacks; practically, and in the custom of the country, it appears to stand too often as their next enemy. That General Saxton is their good friend does not need to be asserted. Very likely the district commissioners under him are wise and humane men, and unquestionably the general regulations for the State are meant to secure justice to the freedmen.

The trouble arises from the fact that it is impossible for the State Commissioner or his chief deputies to personally know all, or even half, their various local agents. Take the case right in hand. Head-quarters for this district are thirty miles below here; and the ranking officer of the bureau has, probably, agents in at least forty different towns, the majority
[p. 24]
of whom are doubtless lieutenants from the volunteer forces of the army. They are detailed for this duty by the military commander of the post or the district, -- sometimes after consultation with the district commissioner, but quite generally without. As the post garrisons are constantly changing, there may be a new agent of the bureau once a month in each town of the district; and I need not add, that the probabilities are that half the aggregate number on duty at any given time are wholly unfit for the work intrusted to them.

Again, take the case right in hand. The acting agent here at present is a lieutenant from a New York regiment. He is detailed by the colonel commanding, and has been on duty several weeks. Yet he never has seen the district commissioner of the bureau. His duties are to examine, and approve or disapprove, all contracts between the planters and the negroes, and to hear and determine all cases of complaint or grievance arising between the negroes themselves, or between the whites and the negroes. He treats me courteously, but he has no sympathy with the poor and lowly; and his ideas of justice are of the bar-room order, -- might makes right. He does n't really intend to outrage the rights of the negroes, but he has very little idea that they have any rights except such as the planters choose to give them. His position, of course, is a difficult one; and he brings to it a head more or less muddled with liquor, a rough and coarse manner, a dictatorial and impatient temper, a most remarkable ability for cursing, and a hearty contempt for "the whole d -- n pack o' niggers." I speak from the observation of a good deal of time spent in and around his office.

I found Charleston full of country negroes. Whites of all classes concur in saying that there is a general impression throughout the back districts that lands are to be given the freed people on the sea-coast; and this, I am told, renders
[p. 25]
them uneasy and unreliable as plantation hands. Whites of all classes also concur in saying that they will not work.

"I lost sixteen niggers," said a Charleston gentleman; "but I don't mind it, for they were always a nuisance, and you'll find them so in less than a year." I asked, as usual, what they are now doing. Two or three of the men went into the army, one of the women had gone North as a cook, another is chambermaid on a steamer, and he found three of the men at work on one wharf the other day. "But," said I, laughing, "I thought the free negro would n't work." "O well, this is only a temporary state of affairs, and they'll all be idle before winter; and I don't look for nothing else when cold weather comes but to have them all asking me to take them back; but I sha'n't do it. I would n't give ten cents apiece for them."

Many of the private soldiers on duty here tell me that the planters generally overreach the negroes on every possible occasion; and my observation among such as I have seen in town tends to confirm this assertion to a considerable extent.

Coming up in the cars from Charleston I had for seat-mate part of the way one of the delegates to the Convention which meets at Columbia next week. He was a very courteous and agreeable gentleman, past middle age, and late the owner of twenty-two negroes. He was good enough to instruct me at some length in respect to the character of the negro. "You Northern people are utterly mistaken in supposing anything can be done with these negroes in a free condition. They can't be governed except with the whip. Now on my plantation there was n't much whipping, say once a fortnight; but the negroes knew they would be whipped if they did n't behave themselves, and the fear of the lash kept them in good order." He went on to explain what a good home they always had; laying stress on the fact that they never were obliged to think for themselves,
[p. 26]
but were always tenderly cared for, both in health and sickness; "and yet these niggers all left me the day after the Federals got into Charleston!" I asked where they now are; and he replied that he had n't seen anybody but his old cook since they ran away; but he believed they were all at work except two, who had died. Yet I am told constantly that these ungrateful wretches, the negroes, cannot possibly live as free people.

Yesterday morning while I sat in the office of the agent of the Freedmen's Bureau there came in, with a score of other men, a planter living in this district, but some sixteen miles from town. He had a woful tale of an assault upon himself by one of his "niggers," -- "a boy who I broughten up, and who's allers had a good home down ter my place." While the boy was coming in from the street the man turned to me and explained, "It never don't do no good to show favor to a nigger, for they's the most ongratefullest creeturs in the world." The dreadful assault consisted in throwing a hatchet at the white man by one of a crowd of negroes who were having a dispute among themselves, and suddenly discovered, in the early evening, somebody sneaking along by the fence. The boy said it was n't a hatchet, but a bit of brick; and added, that the man was so far away that no one could tell whether he was white or black, and that he did n't throw the brick till after he called out and told the man to go away. I followed the negro out after he had received his lecture from the officer, and had some talk with him. "D -- n him," said he, referring to his employer, "he never done nufin all his d -- n life but beat me and kick me and knock me down; an' I hopes I git eben with him some day."

Riding with an ex-Confederate major, we stopped at a house for water. The owner of the property, which was a very handsome one, was absent; and it was in charge of a dozen negroes, former slaves of the proprietor.

"Now here," said the late officer, "here is a place where
[p. 27]
the negroes always had the pleasantest sort of a home, -- everything to eat and drink and wear, and a most kind master and mistress."

Pompey, aged about twelve, came to bring us the water.

"Pompey," said the Major, "Pompey, how do you like your freedom?"

He hung his head, and answered, "Dun know, mawssa."

"O, well, speak right out; don't be afraid; tell us just how it is now," said he again.

Whereupon Pompey: "Likes to be free man, sah; but we 's all workin' on yer like we did afore."

"That 's right, Pompey," said I; "keep on working; don't be a lazy boy."

"It won't do," said the Major; "he 'll grow up idle and impudent and worthless, like all the rest."

"No, sah," answered Pompey, "I's free nigger now, and I's goin' to work."

There is much talk among the country people about a rising of the blacks. A planter who stopped here last night, and who lives twelve miles to the west, told me that it was believed in his neighborhood that they had guns and pistols hid in the timber, and were organizing to use them. His ideas were not very clear about the matter; but he appeared to think they would make serious trouble after the crops are gathered. Another man, living in Union district, told the company, with evident pleasure, that they 'd been able to keep control of the niggers up to his section till 'bout three weeks ago; he 'lowed thar 'd bin some lickin', but no more 'n was good fur the fellows. Now the Federals had come in, and the negroes were in a state of glad excitement, and everybody feared there would be bloody business right away.

A thing that much shocks me is the prevalent indifference to the negro's fate and life. It is a sad, but solemn fact, that three fourths of the native whites consider him a nuisance,
[p. 28]
and would gladly be rid of his presence, even at the expense of his existence. And this in face of the fact that all the planters are complaining about the insufficiency of labor. Thus, in Charleston, a merchant told me, with relishing detail, a story to the effect that, soon after the promulgation of the order against wearing Confederate buttons, a negro soldier doing duty in the city halted a young man, informed him of the regulations, and told him that if he was seen on the street again wearing the obnoxious buttons, he would probably be arrested; whereupon the hopeful scion of the Charleston aristocracy whipped out a large knife, seized the negro by the beard, and cut his throat. The soldier died in about a week; but nothing had been done with the man who killed him. So, too, a man who seems to be acting as stage-agent here says "a d -- d big black buck nigger" was shot near Lewisville about three weeks ago; and the citizens all shield the man who shot him, and sanction his course. All the talk of men about the hotel indicates that it is held to be an evidence of smartness, rather than otherwise, to kill a freedman; and I have not found a man here who seems to believe that it is a sin against Divine law.

Memoir of Sidney Andrews page 5

SCENES IN THE TRACK OF SHERMAN'S ARMY

Columbia, September 12, 1865.

THE war was a long time in reaching South Carolina, but there was vengeance in its very breath when it did come, -- wrath that blasted everything it touched, and set Desolation on high as the genius of the State. "A brave people never before made such a mistake as we did," said a
[p. 29]
little woman who sat near me in the cars while coming up from Charleston; "it mortifies me now, every day I live, to think how well the Yankees fought. We had no idea they could fight half so well." In such humiliation as hers is half the lesson of the war for South Carolina.

Columbia is in the heart of Destruction. Being outside of it, you can only get in through one of the roads built by Ruin. Being in it, you can only get out over one of the roads walled by Desolation. You go north thirty-two miles, and find the end of one railroad; southeast thirty miles, and find the end of another; south forty-five miles, and find the end of a third; southwest fifty miles, and meet a fourth; and northwest twenty-nine miles, and find the end of still another. Sherman came in here, the papers used to say, to break up the railroad system of the seaboard States of the Confederacy. He did his work so thoroughly that half a dozen years will nothing more than begin to repair the damage, even in this regard.

The railway section of the route from Charleston lies mostly either in a pine barren or a pine swamp, though after passing Branchville we came into a more open and rolling country, with occasional signs of life. Yet we could not anywhere, after we left the immediate vicinity of the city, see much indication of either work or existence. The trim and handsome railway stations of the North, the little towns strung like beads on an iron string, are things unknown here. In the whole seventy-seven miles there are but two towns that make any impression on the mind of a stranger, -- Summerville and George's, -- and even these are small and unimportant places. Elsewhere we stopped, as it appeared, whenever the train-men pleased, -- the "station" sometimes existing only in the consciousness of the engineer and conductor.

Branchville was, however, noticeable because of the place it once occupied in Northern anxiety. There is where Sherman
[p. 30]
was to meet his fate. Have we forgotten how the Richmond papers of early February spoke? They were not at liberty to mention the preparations, etc., but they might say, etc., and the Yankee nation would have sore cause to remember Branchville, etc. Unfortunately, however, Sherman flanked Branchville, just as he had other places of thrice its importance, and it missed the coveted renown. It is nothing but a railroad junction in a pine barren, with a long, low station-house and cotton warehouse, and three or four miserable dwellings.

I found the railroad in better condition than I supposed that I should. The rails are very much worn, but the road-bed is in fair order for nearly the entire distance. The freight-cars seemed in passably good repair; but the passenger-coaches were the most wretched I ever saw, -- old, filthy, and rickety. On our train was one new feature, -- a colored man and his wife, whose duty it was to wait on the passengers.

I came up from Orangeburg, forty-five miles, by "stage," to wit, an old spring-covered market-wagon, drawn by three jaded horses and driven by Sam, freedman, late slave, -- of the race not able to take care of themselves, yet caring, week in and week out, for the horses and interests of his employer as faithfully and intelligently as any white man could. There were six of us passengers, and we paid ten dollars each passage-money. We left Orangeburg at four, P. M.; drove eight miles; supped by the roadside; drove all night; lunched at sunrise by a muddy brook; and reached Columbia and breakfast at eleven, A. M., thankful that we had not broken down at midnight, and had met only two or three minor accidents. I am quite sure there are more pleasant ways of travelling than by "stage" in South Carolina at the present time. Thirty-two miles of the forty-five lie in such heavy and deep sand that no team can travel faster than at a moderate walk. For the other thirteen miles the road is
[p. 31]
something better, though even there it is the exception and not the rule to trot your mules. The river here was formerly spanned by an elegant and expensive bridge, but the foolish Rebels burned it; and the crossing of the Congaree is now effected in a ferry, the style and management of which would disgrace any backwoods settlement of the West.

The "Shermanizing process," as an ex-Rebel colonel jocosely called it, has been complete everywhere. To simply say that the people hate that officer is to put a fact in very mild terms. Butler is, in their estimation, an angel when compared to Sherman. They charge the latter with the entire work and waste of the war so far as their State is concerned, -- even claim that Columbia was burned by his express orders. They pronounce his spirit "infernal," "atrocious," "cowardly," "devilish," and would unquestionably use stronger terms if they were to be had. I have been told by dozens of men that he could n't walk up the main street of Columbia in the daytime without being shot; and three different gentlemen, residing in different parts of the State, declare that Wade Hampton expresses a purpose to shoot him at sight whenever and wherever he meets him. Whatever else the South Carolina mothers forget, they do not seem likely in this generation to forget to teach their children to hate Sherman.

Certain bent rails are the first thing one sees to indicate the advent of his army. They are at Branchville. I looked at them with curious interest. "It passes my comprehension to tell what became of our railroads," said a travelling acquaintance; "one week we had passably good roads, on which we could reach almost any part of the State, and the next week they were all gone, -- not simply broken up, but gone; some of the material was burned, I know, but miles and miles of iron have actually disappeared, gone out of existence." Branchville, as I have already said, was flanked, and the army did not take it in the line of march, but some of the boys paid it a visit.

Memoir of Sidney Andrews page 6

ORGANIZATION OF THE SOUTH CAROLINA CONVENTION

Columbia, September 13, 1865.

IN obedience to the proclamation of Provisional Governor Perry, the delegates of the people of South Carolina assembled at noon to-day in State Convention for the purpose of repealing the ordinance of secession and remodelling the State Constitution. The Convention met in the Baptist Church, in which the Secession Convention of 1860 originally assembled; though that, after two sessions, adjourned to Charleston, where the ordinance of secession was passed. That Convention numbered 168 members. This has but 124, -- that is, the proclamation fixes this as the number. In point of fact, however, the number present will not probably exceed 115; for it is known that three parishes held no elections, while Bishop Lynch, of Charleston, is in Europe, and Wade Hampton is not expected here. There were present to-day 101 delegates.

Five parishes are entirely unrepresented. There were two or three precincts in each of three districts where, so far as can be learned, there was no voting; but there is not even a pretence on the part of anybody that there was anywhere in the State any interference with, or restraint upon, the elections by the military. The Convention is the free choice of the people. In one district, Anderson, the various candidates were called upon to show their hands; elsewhere the canvass passed off without speech-making, and only the four delegates from that district -- "district" answering to "county" in the North -- are bound by any pledges.

Four at least of the delegates have national reputation, -- James L. Orr, late Federal representative, ex-Rebel colonel, and ex-Confederate senator; F. W. Pickens, late Federal
[p. 39]
representative, and the first Secession governor; Alfred Huger, postmaster at Charleston for the last twenty-five years; and Samuel McGowan, late major-general in the Rebel army, and one of the bravest officers this State gave the Confederacy. One delegate, James Farrow, was four years a member of the Rebel Congress. Twelve, namely, David L. Wardlaw and Thomas Thomson of Abbeville District, James L. Orr of Anderson, J. J. Brabham of Barnwell, John A. Inglis and Henry McIver of Chesterfield, James Conner and J. Du Pre of Charleston, J. P. Richardson of Clarendon, R. G. M. Dunovant of Edgefield, William R. Robertson of Fairfield, and John W. Carlisle of Spartanburg, were also delegates in the Secession Convention.

The people have cut loose from many of their old leaders, and others of that class have found their graves since the war began; but there are perhaps a score of delegates whose faces are more or less familiar to persons who have attended the sessions of the South Carolina General Assembly any time within a dozen or fifteen years. Of those who have some time been United States officers other than postmaster there are, I believe, four. Of those who were officers in the Rebel army there are not less than twenty-five or thirty, including at least four generals and six colonels. The half-dozen fellows -- of the blunt and blotchy nose, beefy and bloated face, shining and swallow-tailed coat -- who always attend conventions as delegates are here, and occupy the chief seats. So are also here the half-dozen country justices of the peace, no less knowing than usual, and fruitful with platitudes and resolutions.

For the rest, three fourths of the delegates have titles, -- captain, major, colonel, judge. It is the fashion of the South, as of the West, I suppose. There are a dozen young men, and about the same number of very old men; but otherwise they range mostly from forty-five to fifty-five years of age. Gray and grayish heads are numerous. It is n't by any
[p. 40]
means a prepossessing body. The average Southern head does n't show near as much intellectual force and vigor as the average Northern head; and the beauty of the South is solely in the faces of its young women, -- half of it at least in the faces of its mulatto and quadroon girls. A few of the delegates are clad wholly, and very many of them partly, in homespun. Many coats show Confederate buttons, -- from the necessity of poverty rather than the choice of disloyalty, I judge. Many of the members are rough, ignorant country fellows, and the Convention will be managed by less than a score of delegates. The difference between the two classes of delegates -- those who lead and those who are led -- is much greater than could exist in any Northern body of the same numbers; not that the one class is any way superior to the best class of a Northern State, but that the other class is almost immeasurably inferior. Half these men are so deficient in capacity and knowledge that scarcely one of them could by any possibility get into a New England convention.

That, in the stress of war, South Carolina should implore to be made a colony of Great Britain does not now seem half so strange to me as it did nine months ago. Her government was republican in name, but not in fact; while the whole under-current of her society set toward monarchical institutions. Everybody, even now, dreads popular elections; dozens of delegates have said to me that it is n't well to allow the people to elect their own rulers; and this Convention will no more than give the election of governor, lieutenant-governor, representatives, members of the General Assembly, and Presidential electors, to the people, leaving the great host of other officers to the appointment of the Governor or the election of the Legislature. Many of these delegates were elected, not because they represented the will of the parish or district, but because they represented the will of some great family. It was the English system
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reproduced here, with scarcely a variation. A dozen or more boast of their twenty years in the Legislature. It was not a republican form of government; but, more than that, it was not, is not, and will not soon be, a republican community. "It will not do," say the leaders, -- men who, personally, are easy, agreeable, and abundant in courtesies to the stranger, -- "it will not do to put power in the hands of the common people." Two delegates have said to me at different times, "It was a great mistake when we passed our free-suffrage law."

The delegates were called to order by Judge Robertson of Fairfield District, on whose motion Franklin J. Moses, of Sumter District, was made temporary chairman. Judge Robertson was one of the members of the Convention of 1860. Mr. Moses is of Hebrew descent, and has been a member of the State Senate for over twenty years.