PERSONAL NARRATIVE--PERRYVILLE
Hearing about this time of the extreme illness of my Bishop, the Right
Reverend James Hervey Otey, in Jackson, Mississippi, I left Norfolk,
with considerable regret, for the society of that city I had found most
charming, and my stay there had been very pleasant. I went by way of
Mobile, having for my travelling companion from Montgomery, Alabama, to
that city, Captain J. F. Lay, a brother of the then Bishop of Arkansas.
The Captain was a member of Beauregard's staff.
General Forney was in command at Mobile and I had a very pleasant chat
with him. His left arm was still almost useless from a severe wound
received in the Dranesville fight. I met also the Rev. Mr. Pierce, who
afterwards became Bishop of Arkansas; and Madame Le Vert, one of the
most distinguished of Southern writers. I had a drive down the bay over
one of the finest shell roads in the world. And on the Sunday that I
spent in Mobile, I preached my "war sermon,"--adapted, of course, to the
people of Mobile.
I found my beloved Bishop at the residence of Mrs. George Yerger, in
Jackson, and remained in attendance on him for several weeks. He was
then removed from Jackson to the residence of Mrs. Johnstone at
Annandale. There he enjoyed all that kindness and wealth could give. He
was able to drive out after a time, and I remember how thoroughly he
enjoyed the music of the spring birds. There was one bird that he called
the "wood-robin," whose notes were especially enjoyed, and the carriage
was frequently stopped that he might listen to the warbling of this
bird.
From Annandale I went to visit my family in Rome, Georgia, and spent
some time in attendance upon the hospitals there. Then I returned to
General Loring's headquarters for a brief visit to the General to whom I
was warmly attached, and to make farewell visits to sundry officers and
bid my old military companions a final adieu. For my intention it then
was to leave the army.
General Loring's headquarters were at New River, Virginia, at a place
called the Narrows, because the river gashed through Peter's Mountain,
which rises abruptly from the banks on either side. The General and all
the staff gave me a most cordial greeting, but the former told me that I
had no business to resign and that he had kept the place open for me. If
I would not be his aide he had a place for me as chaplain. But my
resignation had already been accepted on the 14th of June by the
Secretary of War. As soon as I had determined to resign, I forwarded to
the Secretary of War a copy of my resignation to General Loring and the
former had accepted it.
The General, Colonel Myer, Colonel Fitzhugh and myself, with a cavalry
escort, went for a little outing to the Salt Sulphur Springs, dining on
our way at the Gray Sulphur Springs. The former place was really one of
the pleasantest of all the watering places I visited in Virginia. The
grounds were rolling, well laid out and very well shaded. The houses
were principally of stone and capable of accommodating about four
hundred guests.
There were two springs of great value there, the Salt Sulphur and the
Iodine. The first possessed all the sensible properties of sulphur water
in general; its odor, for instance, was very like that of a "tolerable
egg," and might be perceived at some distance from the Spring; and in
taste it was cousin-german to a strong solution of Epsom salts and
magnesia. Like most of the sulphurous, this water was transparent and
deposited a whitish sediment composed of its various saline ingredients
mingled with sulphur.
The Iodine Spring was altogether remarkable and was the only one
possessing similar properties in all the country round. It was
peculiarly adapted to cutaneous eruptions and glandular diseases. The
Salt Sulphur Spring was hemmed in on every side by mountains.
General William Wing Loring, of whom I was then taking my leave, was not
only a very charming companion but he was altogether a remarkable man. A
braver man never lived. He was a North Carolinian by birth, and only a
few years older than myself. Yet he was already the hero of three
wars--the Seminole War, the War with Mexico and that in which we were
then engaged. And in 1849 he had marched across the continent to Oregon
with some United States troops as an escort for a party of gold-seekers.
He had also engaged in Indian warfare and had taken part in the Utah
Expedition in 1858. His frontier services in the United States Army were
equalled only by those of that grand soldier, Albert Sidney Johnston.
The following year, he had leave of absence from the army and visited
Europe, Egypt and the Holy Land. He was in command of the Department of
New Mexico in May 1861 and resigned to accept a commission as
Brigadier-General in the Confederate Army.
As Major-General he served to the end of the war, leading a Division and
frequently commanding a corps--always with credit to himself and to the
service in which he was engaged. It was at Vicksburg, in 1863, that he
received the familiar nickname of "Old Blizzard." After the war he took
service with the Khedive of Egypt as General of Brigade and was
decorated in 1875 with the "Imperial Order of Osmariah," and was
promoted to be General of a Division. Four years later he was mustered
out of the Egyptian service. In 1883 he published "A Confederate Soldier
in Egypt,"--a most readable book. He died in New York city three years
later at the age of sixty-eight.
I officiated at his funeral in St. Augustine, Florida, on the 19th of
March, 1886. The commanding General of the Army post at St. Augustine
acted as one of the pall-bearers, and at the cemetery the body was borne
from the gun-carriage to the grave by three Federal and three
ex-Confederate soldiers. A salute was fired at the grave by a battery of
United States Artillery.
I had looked toward the Diocese of Alabama for some parochial work, but
the Bishop of Alabama, the Rt. Rev. Dr. Wilmer, not only could offer me
no work in his jurisdiction, but strongly advised me to go back to the
army as chaplain and surgeon, assuring me that there was work for me in
that capacity. In June, I had a petition from my old regiment to rejoin
it. I had no difficulty in getting a chaplain's commission. General
Loring wrote me a strong letter, and that, with the aid of a telegram
from General (and Bishop) Polk, secured it. So I returned to the Army of
Tennessee at Chattanooga, and was enthusiastically received by the
officers and members of my regiment; and especially by General Polk and
his staff, upon which I found my dear friends Colonel Harry Yeatman,
Colonel William B. Richmond and Colonel William D. Gale.
In August 1862 we advanced into Kentucky, crossing over Walden's Ridge
and the Cumberland Mountains by way of Pikeville and Sparta, Tennessee.
My first intention was to leave Chattanooga with General Polk and his
staff, but on finding that Dr. Buist was going alone, I concluded to
accompany him. So we two started off at 10 a.m. on the 28th of August,
and following the route of our immense wagon train, which stretched out
for miles along the road, we supposed we were all right and knew nothing
to the contrary until we reached the top of Walden's Ridge where we
found General Bragg, General Buckner and Governor Harris. The Governor
put us right as to our way and we had a long ride back to get into the
road taken by our Brigade, which was quite different from that taken by
the wagon train.
We rode until after four o'clock in the afternoon, and then stopped at a
house that was crowded with soldiers and refugees. We had a bed made on
the floor for us and, with many others, slept well until 1 a.m., when we
started on, and after a couple of hours learned that the army had
halted. We rode into camp, about thirty miles from Chattanooga, at
dinner time with ravenous appetites. We were having pretty good living
just then, for the country was admirably watered. A great many country
women visited our camp to hear our band play.
We continued our march to Mumfordville, Kentucky, where the Louisville
and Nashville Railroad crosses Green River. There on the 16th of
September, with a loss of fifty killed and wounded, we captured some
four thousand prisoners with as many guns and much ammunition, besides
killing and wounding seven hundred of the enemy. The Federal forces were
commanded by General Wilder, since the war a most prominent citizen of
Chattanooga, for whom I entertain the heartiest and most cordial regard.
General Chalmers, one of General Bragg's brigadiers, was conspicuous in
this fight for the gallantry and skill with which he handled his troops.
When the Federal forces surrendered on the 17th, I stood beside the road
and saw them lay down their arms. Though there were but four thousand, I
thought as they passed by me that the whole Federal Army had surrendered
to General Bragg. The night following this battle I found a sleeping
place in a graveyard.
On the 23rd of September we reached Bardstown, Kentucky, and took
possession. In the meantime General Buell, leaving a strong guard at
Nashville, marched to Louisville where his army was increased to fully
one hundred thousand men. It was not until October and after he had
reorganized his army and was in danger of being superseded in the
command thereof that he began his campaign against General Bragg's
forces. The latter had collected an immense train, mostly of Federal
army wagons loaded with supplies. And it being clear that the two great
objects of our invasion of Kentucky--the evacuation of Nashville and the
inducement of Kentucky to join the Confederacy--would fail, Bragg
decided only to gain time to effect a retreat with his spoils. He
harrassed the advance of Buell on Bardstown and Springfield, retired to
Danville and thence marched to Harrodsburg to effect a juncture with
General Kirby-Smith.
On the 7th of October he moved to Perryville, where on Wednesday, the
8th, a battle was fought between a portion of Bragg's army and Buell's
advance, commanded by General McCook. At this battle of Perryville our
regiment captured from the Federals four twelve-pounder Napoleon brass
guns, which were afterwards, by special order, presented to the battery
of Maney's Brigade.
The night before the battle I shared blankets in a barnyard with General
Leonidas Polk, Bishop of Louisiana. The battle began at break of day by
an artillery duel, the Federal battery being commanded by Colonel
Charles Carroll Parsons and the Confederates by Captain William W.
Carnes. Colonel Parsons was a graduate of West Point and Captain Carnes
was a graduate of the Naval Academy at Annapolis. I took position upon
an eminence at no great distance, commanding a fine view of the
engagement, and there I watched the progress of the battle until duty
called me elsewhere.
Captain Carnes managed his battery with the greatest skill, killing and
wounding nearly all the officers, men and horses connected with Parsons'
battery. Parsons fought with great bravery and coolness and continued
fighting a single gun until the Confederate infantry advanced. The
officer in command ordered Colonel Parsons to be shot down. As the
muskets were leveled at him, he drew his sword and stood at "parade
rest," ready to receive the fire. The Confederate Colonel was so
impressed with this display of calm courage that he ordered the guns
lowered, saying: "No! you shall not shoot down such a brave man!" And
Colonel Parsons was allowed to walk off the field.
Subsequently I captured Colonel Parsons for the ministry of the Church
in the Diocese of Tennessee. He was brevetted for his bravery at
Perryville and he performed other feats of bravery in the war. At
Murfreesboro he repelled six charges, much of the time under musketry
fire. He was often mentioned in official reports of battles. After the
war he was on frontier duty until 1868 when he returned to West Point as
a Professor. Shortly after my consecration as Bishop of Tennessee, I
preached in the Church of the Holy Trinity, Brooklyn, New York, on
"Repentance and the Divine Life." This sermon made a deep impression
upon Colonel Parsons, as he told me when I subsequently met him at a
reception at the residence of the Hon. Hamilton Fish.
I visited him twice at West Point by his invitation, and a
correspondence sprang up between us. In 1870 he resigned his commission
in the army to enter the ministry. He studied theology with me at
Memphis, and it was my privilege to ordain him to the diaconate and
advance him to the priesthood. His first work was at Memphis. Then for a
while he was at Cold Spring, New York. He returned, however, to Memphis
and became rector of a parish of which Mr. Jefferson Davis was a member
and a vestryman. He remained heroically at his post of duty during the
great epidemic of yellow fever in 1878. He was stricken with the fever
and died at my Episcopal residence on the 6th of September. Captain
Carnes was the first man I confirmed after my consecration to the
Episcopate of Tennessee.
With the advance of Cheatham's division the battle of Perryville began
in good earnest. General Cheatham was supported by General Cleburne and
General Bushrod Johnson, but it was not long before the whole
Confederate line from right to left was advancing steadily, driving back
the enemy. It was a fierce struggle. Until nightfall the battle raged
with unexampled fury,--a perfect hurricane of shell tore up the earth
and scattered death on all sides, while the storm of musketry mowed down
the opposing ranks. Maney's Brigade did the most brilliant fighting of
the day. It was in the charge by which the Federal Battery was captured
that Major-General Jackson of the Federal Army was killed.
It was shortly after noon that the battle began with a sudden crash
followed by a prolonged roar. I was resting at the time in the woods,
discussing questions of theology with the Rev. Dr. Joseph Cross, a
Wesleyan chaplain whom I had first met on the march into Kentucky. I
sprang to my horse at once and said to him: "Let us go! There will be
work enough for us presently!" He mounted his horse and followed me up a
hill where we paused in full view of the enemy's line. I dismounted and
sat down in the shelter of a large tree, saying as I did so: "You better
get off your horse! The enemy is training a battery this way and there
will be a shell here in a short time!"
Scarcely were the warning words uttered than a shell struck the tree
twenty feet above my head and a shower of wooden splinters fell about
me. I jumped into my saddle again and rode at full speed down the hill,
followed by my friend, who shouted with laughter at what he called my
resemblance to an enormous bird in flight, with my long coat-skirts like
wings lying horizontal on the air. When he overtook me at the creek, I
said to him: "This is the place. You will remain with me and I shall
give you something more serious to do than laughing at a flying
buzzard." Dr. Cross assisted me that fearful day. We met many times
subsequently during the war and afterwards, I ordained him deacon and
priest, and he was for a time on my staff of clergy in the Diocese of
Tennessee.
When the wounded were brought to the rear, at three o'clock in the
afternoon, I took my place as a surgeon on Chaplain's Creek, and
throughout the rest of the day and until half past five the next
morning, without food of any sort, I was incessantly occupied with the
wounded. It was a horrible night I spent,--God save me from such
another. I suppose excitement kept me up. About half past five in the
morning of the 9th, I dropped,--I could do no more. I went out by myself
and leaning against a fence, I wept like a child. And all that day I was
so unnerved that if any one asked me about the regiment, I could make no
reply without tears. Having taken off my shirt to tear into strips to
make bandages, I took a severe cold.
The total loss of the Confederates, (whose force numbered of all arms
only 16,000), was 510 killed, 2,635 wounded and 251 captured or missing,
and of this loss a great part was sustained by our regiment. How well I
remember the wounded men! One of the Rock City Guard, brought to me
mortally wounded, cried out: "Oh, Doctor, I have been praying ever since
I was shot that I might be brought to you." One of the captains was
wounded mortally, it was thought at first, but it was afterwards learned
that the ball which struck him in the side, instead of passing through
his body, had passed around under the integuments. Lieutenant Woolridge
had both eyes shot out and still lives. A stripling of fifteen years
fell in the battle apparently dead, shot through the neck and
collar-bone, but is still living. Lieutenant-Colonel Patterson was
killed at his side. The latter was wounded in the arm early in the
action. He bound his handkerchief around his arm and in the most gallant
and dashing style urged his men forward until a grape shot struck him in
the face killing him instantly.
Two days after the battle I went to the enemy's line with a flag of
truce. And the following day General Polk, (who had won the hearts of
the whole army), asked me to go with him to the church in Harrodsburg. I
obtained the key and as we entered the holy house, I think that we both
felt that we were in the presence of God. General Polk threw his arms
about my neck and said: "Oh, for the blessed days when we walked in the
house of God as friends! Let us have prayer!"
I vested myself with surplice and stole and entered the sanctuary. The
General knelt at the altar railing. I said the Litany, used proper
prayers and supplications, and then turned to the dear Bishop and
General and pronounced the benediction from the office for the
visitation of the sick. "Unto God's gracious mercy and protection I
commit thee. The Lord bless thee and keep thee. The Lord make His face
to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up the light
of His countenance upon thee and give thee peace, both now and evermore.
Amen."
The Bishop bowed his head upon the railing and wept like a child on its
mother's breast. Shortly after this service, General Kirby-Smith begged
me that he might go to the church with me, so I returned, and he too was
refreshed at God's altar.
General Kirby-Smith was a most remarkable character. A few years later
it was my pleasure to have him as one of my neighbors at Sewanee,
Tennessee, where he did much towards making the University of the South
what it is. He was kindly, big-hearted, and no man was a better friend.
He was a very devoted communicant of the church, and during the war,
whenever opportunity offered, he held services and officiated as
lay-reader. In an epidemic of cholera at Nashville, some years after the
war, he was called upon to say the burial office over his own rector who
had died of the dread disease. He entered upon his duties in the
University of the South in 1875, as Professor of Mathematics and gave a
great deal of attention to botany and natural science.
His end on the 28th of March, 1893, was very peaceful. He died as he had
lived--bright, strong in his Christian faith and hope. One of his last
connected utterances was the fourth verse from the twenty-third Psalm.
On Good Friday, the 31st of March, 1893, it was my high privilege to
commit his body to the earth in the cemetery at Sewanee.