Sherman in Georgia

ABOUT the middle of September [1864], while acting by request of the Bishop of Georgia as Missionary Bishop to the Army of Tennessee, I paid a visit to General Hardee at Jonesboro, his headquarters. There was a standing truce to allow the transit of citizens exiled from Atlanta by General Sherman’s order, and through all the night we heard the noise of the long wagon train conveying these unfortunates. It occurred to me (I was in the tent of Colonel Roy, A. A.G. of the corps, and the fleas forbade sleep) that I might under cover of this truce find an opportunity to visit some very dear and much afflicted friends in Huntsville.

By the light of the couriers’ fire in the yard, I wrote the following note: —

HEAD QRS; HARDEE’S CORPS
sept 16th 1864

The undersigned respectfully suggests to Major General Sherman that he greatly desires to enter his lines, spend two or three days in Huntsville, and return.

His object is to visit an old lady who has been as a mother to him, and whose situation is such as to require an interview. He is well aware how unusual is such a request and urges it with great deference. He can only say that the permission, if accorded, shall not be abused by any covert word or deed.

Very Respy
HENRY C. LAY
Bishop of Arkansas
Address care of Gen² Hardee

Upon this General Hardee endorsed as follows: —

I am well acquainted with Bishop Lay and know that, if his request be granted, he will conform strictly to any regulations that may be prescribed by Maj. Gen. Sherman.

W. J. HARDEE
Lieutt General
Head Qrs;, Jonesboro, Septr 16th 1864

This paper was subsequently returned with the following endorsement: —

ATLANTA Septr 17th 1861
GEN HARDEE.
DEAR SIR,
Bishop Lay may come to Atlanta when the necessary papers will be given him to visit the city of Huntsville and return. I will not exact of the Bishop any specific promise, but will presume on his character to observe the war secrecy.
W. T. SHERMAN
Major Genl

To this was added a postscript about some personal and private matters. My duties having called me to Macon, it was only on the 22nd inst. that I learned by telegram from General Hardee that the permission was granted. Although only fifty miles from Griffin, whence the flag of truce set out, it was necessary for me to go by headquarters at Palmetto; this journey occupied three days. We were detained in Griffin until the 27th waiting for prisoners to be exchanged; on the evening of that day Colonel Henry, in charge of flag, and I reached General Iverson’s headquarters at Jonesboro.

September 28. — We set out at an early hour for Rough and Ready, the designated place of meeting. We carried 149 Federal officers, not under guard, and most of them on foot. In the ambulance with me was Captain Buel, who informed me that he was a nephew of Bishop Wilmer’s. He is also a relative (brother-in-law, I believe) of General Adams of our cavalry.

Reaching Rough and Ready at midday, we hung out our white flag. Presently the train from Atlanta came down, the flag bearer seated on the cowcatcher of the engine. The officers, headed by Colonel Henry on our side and Colonel Warner on the enemy’s, met and saluted. The exchange occupied some hours. We gave 149 officers and received 473 privates, with 16 surgeons and 4 chaplains thrown in without equivalent.

After the prisoners had been transferred, some time was occupied by the officers in settling up their accounts. Some sick soldiers came for shelter into the porch of a deserted house where I was sitting. I said to them,

’We hear some of your Georgians have deserted in Atlanta.’ One of them replied that they were men from Georgia regiments, but not all Georgians. They were urged to take the oath of allegiance, with permission to go North and reside during the war. Many had yielded. But this was not the worst. Not a few had enlisted, receiving a bounty of as much as $1000 each. A Georgia battalion had been formed of such. They went on to describe how, before exchange, they had been drawn up in line that morning, the roll was called, and such as preferred exchange made to step out. Many refused to return. One man said he was ashamed to see his friends and neighbors fall back. Nearly the whole of his company were prisoners, but only three stepped out for exchange.

At length the signal was given for departure. Colonel Warner introduced me into the ‘caboose’ car provided for the officers and told me that he would take charge of me and convey me to General Sherman.

After proceeding a mile or so, there was a cry, and an excitement. The train stopped and many hands were extended to help in a sheepish-looking deserter. A little further, we reached the camps; a fine band mounted on the roof of the cars and played the ‘Star-Spangled Banner.’ The men rushed out and lined the road, cheering, and we entered Atlanta in a jubilee.

I was entirely overlooked. Colonel Warner formed the prisoners into line, with the band, and marched them up to headquarters. I shouldered my saddlebags and followed in the distance. I could perceive that General Sherman was making a speech which was received with enthusiasm.

When all this was over, I approached and inquired of Colonel Warner to whom I should report. He apologized for his neglect and carried me at once to General Sherman.

I found him most comfortably established in a fine house near the City Hall. The furniture seemed to be that of the owners. There was a parlor handsomely furnished, and opening into this another used as an office.

General Sherman greeted me very cordially. He was in slippers and easy in manners. He has that military sort of courtesy which puts one at ease. He read a private letter from General Hardee with much satisfaction and asked if I proposed to write to him. When I assented, he said that it was perhaps not well to extend the correspondence further; but to say to General Hardee that he was gratified by his letter, and should always be happy in any matter — such as my own, for instance — to extend to him any courtesy consistent with his duty.

He carried me into a private room and provided water. My attire needed apology, for I was in homespun and unshaven, but he cut short my apology, saying everyone knew I was just off a march. I was introduced to General Stanley, an old acquaintance at Fort Smith before the war, and gave him a private letter from General Hardee.

About six he invited me down to dinner. Mrs. General Rousseau and a married daughter and sundry of the staff were at table. We had pea soup in tin plates, some roast beef and vegetables afterwards; no drinkables. General Sherman did the talking, which was mostly addressed to me. It was so casual that I cannot recollect much of it. Something was said about McPherson, and I remarked that he was considered in the South the kindest of their Generals. He assented, but said he made people behave themselves; for instance, he expelled certain women from Vicksburg for interrupting divine service by leaving church when the prayer for the President of the United States was used. He branched off here to say that he was for letting people pray as they chose, but could not see why people could not pray for Lincoln or ‘even for me.’ I replied that there was no objection to praying for any individual, but the use of the prayer in question was the acknowledgment of a political fact.

To this he rejoined with some vague declamation about the clergy handling politics, which I thought not quite civil, and to which I made no reply. He spoke presently of the excess of officers in the armies, remarking that it was greater in our armies than in theirs. He complained that we had many officers without employment who had become guerillas, and declared his purpose to hang all such officers whom he found engaged in partisan warfare without commands suited to their rank; whereat the ladies seemed highly pleased.

Dinner over, he invited me out on the piazza and offered me a cigar. His conversation for an hour or two was very interesting, and he assumed a tone which led me to speak quite openly on some points.

He complained that General Hood had treated him ungenerously in their late correspondence. It was Hood’s part to refer it to his government and they could publish it if they chose; in sending it to the papers there was an effort to excite unreasonable prejudice against him. ‘To be sure, I have made war vindictively; war is war, and you can make nothing else of it; but Hood knows as well as anyone I am not brutal or inhuman.’

He evidenced a great sensibility to this charge of inhumanity, and defended himself warmly on three counts of the indictment.

As to the shelling of Atlanta, he denied that this was intended. He threw no shot at private dwellings. It was our fault in putting our lines close to the city. He was shelling the lines and the depot. After all, there was no damage in this part of the city (near the City Hall). I reminded him that I was in Atlanta all through the siege; the shells fell everywhere; the hottest fire I had been in was at private houses; shells struck St. Philip’s Church near by and passed over the city.

He insisted they could not help it. They had only the range and the smokestack of the railroad, and could not see the effect of shot.

I mentioned that we at General Hood’s headquarters thought he had a special grudge against us. He said no; he knew the house was on Whitehall Street, but not in what part of it.

On the second point, the exiling of the citizens, he said that it was the most merciful thing he could do. He held Atlanta as a fortress in the enemy’s country. He was dependent on a long and difficult railroad communication. There was nothing in the country for the people to live on, and if the citizens remained he must feed them. He argued that it was more merciful to send them out deliberately, in good weather, with their stores and baggage and with the appliances of both armies to aid them, than to allow them to remain a while and then straggle out, each as best he might, to avoid starvation.

And lastly, as to his refusal to exchange prisoners man for man, he said that he was not authorized to settle any principle of exchange. The governments had this in hand. He made upon the field such arrangements as suited the exigency. We were not able to feed and clothe prisoners. He could not be expected in the midst of a campaign to give us able-bodied men, who would go at once into the ranks, and receive half-starved men unfit for duty.

Presently he began to speak of the campaign which had just ended in the capture of Atlanta. I remarked that General Johns[t]on was reported to have said that his move upon Jonesboro was the only mistake he had committed in all his advance; although he gained Atlanta, he could have been struck while in motion.

To this General Sherman answered:

’If I could talk with Johns[t]on after the war is over with the map between us, I could show him I did not risk too much. But I was very anxious all of the first day. When night came, however, and I found Hood had not divined my movement, I said to General Thomas, “I have Atlanta as certainly as if it were in my hand."'

I told him that he was criticized freely by military men for allowing our army to escape intact when its corps were so widely separated. ‘Ah,’ said he, ‘if I had known what that explosion in Atlanta meant, I would have fallen on you. I heard it and went out to look, but I thought that Slocum [?], whom I had left to watch you, had become impatient and made an assault. I ought to have taken Hardee’s corps.’

‘What force did you have against Hardee in the fight of the first of September?’ I inquired.

‘Two corps attacked him and two more were in supporting distance, but our corps are smaller than yours. I also sent a force down the railroad to make a détour and come up in his rear. This is a most difficult country; they lost their way in the dark among the hills and so failed to get into position.’

It will be seen that at a later date General Sherman recurred to this matter and threw the blame of failure on General Stanley.

He passed hence to speak of the war in general. He observed that it was an artificial war brought about by the ambition of individual men; that it was impossible for two nations to exist side by side on this continent. The case was like the effervescence of a soda powder; agitation could be ended only by union.

Of course I dissented from these opinions and expressed the belief that the alienation between the nations was of slow but sure growth; that the separation might by prudence have been deferred, but not prevented; there was now a deep-seated alienation which would render it impossible for them to live together on terms of intimacy.

All this he utterly denied. There was no real animosity, he said, and cited in proof of it the friendship which invariably characterizes the intercourse of pickets and others when they are permitted to converse. General Grant subsequently used the same argument and illustration. It was of no force with me, for I had seen too much of the spirit which pervades the Federal Army in conquered districts, of the studied persecution to which the helpless are exposed. General Sherman, however, insisted that if the war were over the past would be quickly forgotten, and both parties would love and respect each other more than ever.

He went on to say, ‘Your people had much the advantage in the beginning of this war. You were a military people, respected the profession of arms and cultivated military education. If I went to New York and was introduced as Captain or Major Sherman, U. S. A., the people passed me by as a useless man; but if I went to Charleston, my profession was a passport into society and caused my acquaintance to be sought. You took to arms naturally and easily; we had to acquire the military profession against our tastes.

‘But you made a great mistake in organizing a Confederacy. Had you clung to the Union and claimed to be legitimate exponents of the American ideas, the true representatives of the American Constitution, you would have had better success. As it was, you surrendered at once into our hands the most valuable of the common property — the memories and traditions, the flags and emblems, the songs and national airs. These are invaluable in sustaining the popular enthusiasm.

‘This war ought to be arrested. It is intensifying the greatest fault and danger in our social system. It daily increases the influence of the masses, already too great for safety. The man of intelligence and education is depressed in value far below the man of mere physical strength. These common soldiers will feel their value and seek to control affairs hereafter to the prejudice of the intelligent classes.’

I asked him just here if he believed it possible to have a stable government in which property was not represented in the legislature. He replied no, emphatically, but added that the North had always recognized that principle, especially in giving the South a representation in Congress for slave property. The rage for universal suffrage prevailed in the South far more than in the North.

I told him that thinking people in the South were very generally convinced of the necessity of introducing some conservative features into our system of government; for my own part, I regarded the present as a crisis in the great American experiment, and believed changes would be developed, approximating our condition more nearly to that of European powers. I mentioned an article from one of the English reviews which in its title well described our future: ‘Resurrection through Dissolution.’

As I rose to take my leave, General Sherman apologized for not having a bed to offer me. He said he would forward me to-morrow under General Thomas’s protection, and he would see to it that I should return within our lines without inconvenience. He then sent a staff officer with me to the hotel with directions to see that I was comfortably accommodated.

In person, General Sherman is spare and of good height. His hair is (not unpleasantly) red; his forehead very fine, his eye clear and restless. He impressed me as a man of active temper, who must needs be doing. His face is somewhat dyspeptic in its expression. He would be accounted ordinarily a kind-hearted man; but when aroused, severe and utterly unrelenting. His manner is very frank and outspoken. He does not seem to keep a large staff about him, and told me that he threw the business of the army into the staff of the corps, so that he keeps himself unembarrassed with details. At General Hardee’s headquarters the officers had been much amused by a sarcastic letter of his in reply to a Confederate chaplain who had lost a horse and claimed indemnity. It was in General Sherman’s own handwriting, two pages long. I judge him to be forty-five or forty-six years old.

September 29. — I remained in my room all the morning expecting momentarily to be sent for to the cars.

An officer delivered to me the following paper: —

HEAD QRS: MIL. DIV. OF THE MISS.
ATLANTA Septr 27th 1864
Bishop Lay of Arkansas has permission to visit Huntsville, Alabama, and return to Atlanta. All officers in authority will extend to him courteous treatment and assistance and give him free passage each way by Rail Road.
(Signed) W. T. SHERMAN
Major Gen1 Comd°

On going to the depot at 2 P.M., I found a large ‘gang’ of trains, laden with many troops, with artillery and with horses. I went in General Thomas’s ‘caboose’ car and was courteously received by him and by General Morgan in command of the division on board. General Thomas introduced me as ‘Bishop Lay from the Southern Confederacy.’ He inquired about my brother George. I do not recollect anything of interest that fell from him, except that in reply to some remark he spoke of Johns[t]on’s retreat from Dalton as a masterly one.

Thomas is a large, heavy man; reserved and thoughtful; indicates great energy when aroused to action.

General Morgan is a Western man, thoroughly Yankee in accent and manner, a wiry, enterprising man. They fed me out of their baskets and treated me as a guest.

The railroad was in very bad order, and encumbered with trains; indeed, the bridge over the Oostanaula sunk before the last of our ‘gang’ of trains could get over. We reached Chattanooga the next morning, where General Thomas halted, leaving me with General Morgan. We remained at the depot all night, and General Morgan divided his blankets with me, as the night was cool. In taking leave General Thomas told me they would carry me into Huntsville, but he was not so sure I should be able to get back.

October 1.—The trains left Chattanooga very early and reached Stevenson by 10 A.M., where we halted for two hours. I saw symptoms of excitement and anxiety and began to feel some uneasiness. Presently the trains moved off and I approached General Morgan for information, remarking that he must have observed I had asked no questions. ‘You were afraid you might not get an answer,’ he said. ‘No, sir, I was not afraid of that — but afraid lest I should seem curious or indelicate.’

The man meant no incivility; it was the native Yankeeism within him which forbade him to understand how delicacy could restrain curiosity.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I don’t know how it is. There is trouble in Huntsville, but the wires are down and we can’t tell what it is. If Forrest is there, we will soon drive him off; he can’t stand before infantry.’

I overheard some discussion among the officers. They agreed that if it was Wheeler he would soon get out of the way, but if Forrest was there he would show fight. I heard also that the road was broken and a train captured the day before. So I lay down on a bench prepared presently to hear the bullets crashing through the cars.

Yet it was interesting to see the caution and the boldness with which they pressed on. In front was an engineer train provided with all mechanical appliances and manned with 400 men. Now they stopped and repaired the road, and now when the track was clear, and no danger of an ambush, they ran fast. The trains were kept close together; every man kept his musket ready in his lap and all were on the alert. When the men began to relax at a station, General Morgan called out, ‘Stop that ’ere bantering, men! Hush up that slack chat!’ and all was still and quiet. Night found us in Mastin’s Cut, which was seriously obstructed with rocks thrown in. After two hours these were removed and we ran safely into Huntsville about 8½ P. M. Baggage in hand, I went up town; found one street and another obstructed by barricades, and at last found my way to Mrs. Rice’s. A Federal Colonel was occupying part of her house; she recognized my voice and joyfully admitted me.

And now I learned that Forrest had summoned the garrison to surrender; that all day long the troops had been in the fort and the citizens in the woods expecting the fort to be stormed; and yet again, all this was a ruse of Forrest, who was busy removing prisoners and stores at Athens across the Tennessee. Morgan pursued him next day, but never succeeded in reaching him.

I remained in Huntsville until the 7th of October, when I left for Atlanta. I got to Stevenson, where the Quartermaster, Captain Warner, gave me lodging, as there was no shelter for a stranger. He told me that the bridges had sunk by reason of heavy rains and that guerillas had probably obstructed the road beyond Chattanooga. Finding it impossible to proceed, I returned to Huntsville.

And now I learned that Hood was in the rear of Atlanta, occupying the railroad. I was kept in Huntsville a month. I asked to be put across the Tennessee River, but this was refused on the ground that my pass specified the route by which I should return. I telegraphed and wrote to General Thomas at Nashville, and each time received in reply an assurance that the way would be open in three or four days to Atlanta.

At last, on the 7th of November, I set out again and reached Chattanooga on the 8th.

It rained dismally; the streets were a sea of mud and filth; the hotel was so crowded that a bed or a meal had to be almost fought for; interminable trains of cars covered the tracks. For two days I splashed through the mire from one office to another. It now became revealed that Atlanta and the roads leading to it were to be abandoned. Sherman was about to advance into the interior of Georgia; it was doubtful whether any train would go to the front.

On the morning of the 10th of November I found myself in a freight car laden with bags of oats. One door was torn off so that the car could not be closed, and as a special favor three officers and myself were allowed to ride inside. We spent two days and two nights in this car, making 70 miles.

(Next month these notes will be concluded with an intimate sketch of Grant before Appomattox)