FIGHTING JOE HOOKER.
The name and fame of General Joe Hooker are, as they ought to be,
dear to every American, for he is eminently a national man. Born in
Massachusetts, he has resided in every section of the country, and is
cosmopolitan in habits and ideas. Nature never made him for one part of
the land. He has fought over every part of the country from Maryland
to Mexico, from the Potomac to beyond the Rio Grande, and from a
private citizen of the most westerly district of California, he rose to
command as brigadier general of the regular army in the most easterly
department of the reunited country. Every Californian, if not every
American, _is_ proud of Joe Hooker, for he is a representative man of
that peculiar race of pioneers drawn from every state of the Union and
nationality of the globe.
Hooker is naturally a fighting man, a belligerent by nature as much
as Philip Sheridan, and he insists on forcing every dispute to the
arbitrament of arms. Actual blows satisfy him best, and, from the
very nature of his mental organization, "war to the knife" is an
admitted motto with him. A curious accident gave Hooker the title of
"Fighting Joe;" but few of the multitude who read of him under that
appellation, and none of those who, in the heat of political and
partisan discussion, which during the war seemed to partake of the
extreme bitterness created by the conflict, endeavored to ridicule
both person and expression, suspected how accurately the title
described the character of the man. A man born with this disposition
would naturally seek the army. Hooker entered West Point and studied
his way through with a zeal and industry which must have placed him
higher than twenty-eight in a class of fifty graduates had he not,
like Sheridan, suffered for his belligerency in the estimation of the
staid and steady professors of that institute. He was not a student,
nor was he an idler, nor yet a plodding, industrious, dull scholar, who
learned with great difficulty, and retained only what he was taught.
On the contrary, he was quick to learn, original in applying what
he learned, and critical of the ideas and facts taught him. At West
Point he as frequently criticised the rules of war laid down by the
authorities of the past age as in the field as a general he was free in
criticising his contemporaries. He got through the course creditably
in 1837, and managed, being still young, and the belligerency of his
nature not fully developed, to exist in the quiet position of adjutant
of West Point. Afterward he also managed to endure the monotony of the
adjutant general's department for five years, until the war with Mexico
broke out, when he sought adventure, promotion, and fame in the active
service. The Mexican War was the great opportunity of many young lives,
the practical schooling of nearly all who distinguished themselves
during the late war for the Union. To Hooker, young, ambitious, and
belligerent, the opportunity was highly welcomed. The declaration of
war was hailed by him with an intense joy that would have horrified his
Puritan fathers if they could have been cognizant of it.
Hooker's career in Mexico was not remembered when the rebellion
began, or he would have earlier stood high in the confidence of the
government, for it was among the most brilliant of the many successes
attained by the many very able young men engaged in that war. To have
risen under the old and very faulty organization of the army in a
short war, in which there were few casualties, from a lieutenant to
be brevetted lieutenant colonel of the regular army, was no small
achievement. Hooker was successively brevetted captain, major, and
lieutenant colonel "for gallant and meritorious conduct" in the several
conflicts at Monterey, in the affair at the National Bridge, and in the
assault of Chapultepec. He was detailed, if I remember rightly, early
in the campaign as adjutant general on the staff of General Gideon
Pillow, and, though Gabriel Rains and Ripley were associated with him
on duty, it was generally understood and felt that the young chief of
staff furnished all the brains and most of the energy and industry
to be found at the head-quarters of the division. Pillow, Rains, and
Ripley became somewhat notorious during the late rebellion as officers
of the rebel army. During the war with Mexico sectional feeling ran
high on the subject of supporting the administration in the prosecution
of an offensive war, and very often young Hooker was compelled to
hear tirades uttered by these Southern officers against his native
state, which gave only a lukewarm support to the war of invasion which
that against Mexico was deemed, but he never allowed them to pass
unreproved or unresented. A less positive character than Hooker might
have been influenced in his state allegiance by such surroundings in
a camp composed almost exclusively of Southern soldiers, and at a
head-quarters where prevailed the most intensely bitter sectionalism
which then disgraced the army. The discussions which grew out of the
objections which the young chief of staff took to the peculiar views of
the embryo rebels only served to confirm him in his adherence to and
love of the government; and none of the old army officers entered into
the war for the Union with more alacrity or with a clearer conception
of the desperate purposes and characters of the traitors than did Joe
Hooker.
The peace which ensued in 1847 found Hooker with the natural
belligerency of his quick temper fully developed, his ambition
fired, and his restless activity of mind and body increased. He had
no disposition to return to the monotony of the adjutant general's
office, or to that quiet of garrison duty, that a captain of artillery,
which he had become, would have to endure. The unadventurous career
which a professional life in a settled country among civilized people
promised was also without charms to his restless mind. He remained
in the army only as long as the prospect of service in Mexico and on
the Pacific Coast had any promise of activity; but soon finding that
the peace which followed the Mexican War was likely to be profound
and undisturbed, he resigned his commission, and plunged into the
excitement of pioneer life in the newly-discovered gold regions of
California. He purchased a ranche across the bay from the city of
San Francisco, and for a short time became interested in the, to him,
novel duties of a farmer. It is natural to suppose that this monotonous
existence soon became painfully dull to a person of Hooker's restless
disposition. The ranche was neglected for other objects affording more
excitement and adventure; but by the year 1860 this existence had lost
many of its charms, and Hooker again found the "horrors of peace"
upon him. Peace, it must be known, has its horrors for some men, just
as the calm has its terrors for the seaman. The consequence was that
Hooker fell into some of the bad habits which follow idleness. He
was a "fish out of water," with nothing of an agreeable character to
do, and he restlessly ran into some excesses, which I have heard his
California friends allude to as the process of "going to the dogs." His
business-character suffered, but not his social standing. His ranche
was neglected and went to ruin. His health became somewhat impaired,
when, fortunately for him, the rebellion broke out. He hastened to
Washington to offer his services to the President.
He succeeded after much difficulty in obtaining a commission, and
gladly launched again into active service. He became a changed man. He
had abandoned his bad habits with the ease and readiness of a man of
resolute and determined mind, and now, engaged in that profession which
had every charm for him, he began in earnest the prosecution of the
true aim of his life. He believed in fate and destiny; believed that
strong minds and brave hearts control their own fortunes; and, with
firm confidence in himself, announced to his friends, who congratulated
him on his appointment, that one day he would be at the head of the
army, of which he was then only a brigade commander.
If Hooker's military career be examined critically, it will be found
that his success as a leader has been due to the impetuosity, boldness,
and energy with which he fights. His presence on a battle-field may
be said to be calculated to supply all deficiencies in the discipline
of the troops. His presence and demeanor inspired his troops with
the qualities of courage and daring which distinguished himself, and
restored morale to broken columns with the same success as that which
ever marked the presence of Philip Sheridan. As commander of the Army
of the Potomac, General Hooker never met with brilliant success. He
assumed command at a time when the bitter jealousies which disgraced
that army most impaired its energies and retarded its action. He had
little of the love or admiration, and, consequently, little of the
genuine support of his subordinate commanders; while he was, by reason
of his promotion, farther removed from immediate direction of his
troops, and the inspiration of his presence was lost on those who had
learned to believe in him.
Success with Hooker depended upon his immediate presence with his
troops, and to remove him from close intimacy with them was to impair
his effectiveness. No one will attempt to deny that Hooker held such an
inspiring control over his men, and that his presence among his troops
in battle had much to do with their effectiveness. He was what has
been called "a powerful presence." He was destined for a leader, not a
director of troops, and hence his great success has been as the leader
of fractional corps of great armies. His battles on the Peninsula; his
vigorous pursuit of the rebels from Yorktown; his conduct throughout
the "battle-week on the Chickahominy," and his engagement at Malvern
Hill, were the deeds which are familiarly known throughout the country.
His success as the commander of a _corps_ in the West has become not
less familiar to the public; and his achievements at Lookout Mountain,
Resaca, and before Atlanta, will be the basis for the establishment
of his true character as a military man. I do not mean by this to
say that Hooker can not command with success a great army. I have no
personal knowledge of his career as a commanding general, but from his
mental organization it is evident that he is greater as a leader than
as a director of men. My personal recollections of Hooker's battles
are confined to a few, the most remarkable of which was the battle of
Lookout Mountain. The "battle above the clouds," as the assault of
Lookout Mountain was called, was one of the most remarkable operations
of the war. The mountain which was carried is fourteen hundred feet
above the Tennessee River, and was held by a force of at least six
thousand rebels strongly fortified. It is not a regular slope from the
summit of Lookout to the foot, but the first twenty-five or thirty feet
of the descent is perpendicular rocks, or what is generally understood
to be meant by "palisades." These are very high and grand, and there
are but two routes by which they can be overcome. One of these is a
gap twenty miles south of the point on the Tennessee River where the
assault was made. The other is by a road to Summertown, which winds
up the east side of the mountain, ascending the palisades by a steep
acclivity and narrow road. General Hooker's plan of operation was to
get possession of the road. To do so was to gain possession of the
mountain. He must be a regular mountaineer who can unopposed make the
ascent of the Lookout without halting several times to rest; and the
story of the assault seems incredible to one standing on the summit,
where the rebels were posted, and looking at the rough ascent over
which Hooker charged. Only a general in whom the disposition to fight
was largely developed could have conceived such a project, and only
troops inspired by the presence of one whom they knew to be a brave and
daring leader could have executed the ambitious plan. It was planned in
all its details, and executed in all its completeness by Hooker. The
original intention of General Grant, who was commander-in-chief, was
to attack Lookout with a force only sufficiently large to keep busy
the rebel force occupying it while the main attack was made elsewhere.
The destruction of a pontoon bridge, which connected Hooker's camp
with that of the main army, forced Grant to leave him a much larger
corps than he had at first intended, and he then gave Hooker permission
to assault the mountain with all his force. The order was received
about noon on the 25th of November, 1863, but before nightfall General
Hooker had planned and had executed an attack which was as brilliant as
daring. Two months' observation of the mountain from his camp in the
valley had given him a full knowledge of all its outlines, its roads,
etc., and it is easy to believe that the plan which Hooker decided
upon had had for some time a place in his mind. It was as unique in
conception as it proved successful in execution.
A small force under General Osterhaus was ordered to make a feint upon
the enemy's rifle-pits at the point (or "nose," as Rosecrans calls
it) of the mountain, while with Geary, and Ireland, and Crufts, and
Whitaker, General Hooker moved up the valley west of the mountain until
a mile in rear of the enemy's position; the troops then ascended the
side of the range until the head of the column reached the palisades
which crown the mountain, and formed in line of battle at right angles
with them; they then marched forward as Osterhaus made a sharp attack
as a feint, and, by taking the rebel works in flank and rear, secured
about thirteen hundred prisoners. The enemy fled around the "nose" of
the mountain, closely pursued, to a position on the opposite side,
where Hooker again attacked. After one or two desperate efforts the
rebel works were carried, but it was at such a late hour (midnight)
that it was impossible to dislodge them from the Summertown road, a
route by which they evacuated during the night. Hooker made a great
reputation by his unique plan, and the vigor with which he executed it.
The battle on the other parts of the line were suspended for that day,
and Hooker on the mountain became the "observed of all observers." The
troops in the valley watched him and his Titans with equal admiration
and astonishment; astonishment at the success attained, and admiration
of the daring displayed. When our troops turned the point of the
mountain, taking the rebels in rear, capturing many and pursuing the
rest rapidly, the troops in the Valley of Chattanooga cheered them
repeatedly. As the lines of Hooker would advance after nightfall,
those in Chattanooga and the valley could see the fires built by the
reserves springing up and locating the advancing columns. As each line
became developed by these fires, those on the mountain could plainly
hear the loud cheers of their comrades below. One of the expressions
used by a private who was watching the fires from Orchard Knob grew
at once into the dignity of a camp proverb. On seeing the line of
camp-fires advanced beyond the last line of rifle-pits of the enemy, a
soldier in General Wood's command sprang up from his reclining position
on Orchard Knob and exclaimed,
"Look at old Hooker: don't he fight for 'keeps?'"
"Fighting for keeps" is army slang, and signifies fighting in deadly
earnest.
Those who remained in Chattanooga described this combat as the most
magnificent one of the grand panorama of war which the various battles
of Chattanooga proved to be. General Meigs has graphically described
it at a moment when it was just dark enough to see the flash of the
muskets, and still light enough to distinguish the general outline of
the contending masses. The mountain was lit up by the fires of the
men in the second line, and the flash of the musketry and artillery.
An unearthly noise rose from the mountain, as if the old monster was
groaning with the punishment the pigmy combatants inflicted upon him as
well as upon each other, and during it all the great guns on the summit
continued, as in rage, to bellow defiance at the smaller guns in our
forts on the other side of the river, which, with lighter tone and more
rapidly, as if mocking the imbecility of its giant enemy, continued to
fire till the day roared itself into darkness.
General M. C. Meigs has given the combat its name of the "battle above
the clouds." It is true that Hooker fought above the clouds, but more
than this, he manufactured the clouds that he might fight above them.
During the night before the engagement a slight, misty rain had fallen,
and when the sun rose, cold and dull, next morning, a fog hung over
the river and enveloped the mountain, serving as a convenient mask to
Hooker's movements. As the day advanced, however, the fog began to
lift, and was fast disappearing, when the battle on the west side of
the mountain began to rage heavily. Then the smoke of Hooker's musketry
and artillery began to mingle with the mist and clouds; they grew heavy
again, and settled down close upon the mountain, so that at one time
the clouds thus formed hid the contending forces from the view of those
in the valley, and Hooker literally fought the battle above clouds of
his own making.
The "inspiring presence" with which Hooker is endowed, and to which I
have alluded, has had many illustrations. McClellan, with whom Hooker
was no favorite, acknowledged that the loss of Hooker's presence by
wounds, during the battle of Antietam, cost him many valuable fruits
of that conflict. While such an acknowledgment is disgraceful to
McClellan, who could thus admit that the absence of one corps commander
out of five could lose him a battle, it is highly complimentary to
Hooker, who appears, by the way, to have been the only officer at
Antietam who was fighting for any definite object, any vital or
key-point of the field.
The well-known effect of Sheridan's presence at Cedar Creek was not
more remarkable in restoring the morale of his army than was that
of Hooker at Peach-tree Creek, Georgia, in retrieving the disaster
which was there threatened. The Army of the Cumberland was surprised
at that point on the 20th of July, while on the march, and, being
vigorously attacked, was in great danger of being routed. It was a
well-known fact that the presence of Hooker every where along the line
of the threatened and almost defeated army kept the men in line, at
the work, and finally saved the day. Were it within the purpose of
this sketch to do so, no better illustration of the fighting general
could be given than a detailed account of this battle, in which Hooker
was the central--only figure. The country is as much indebted to him
personally for the victory as to Sheridan for Cedar Creek, Rousseau for
Perryville, or Thomas for Chickamauga.
Hooker is "his own worst enemy"--not in a common and vulgar acceptance
of that term, now universally applied to those who indulge their
appetite at the expense of the brain. His weakness is not of the vulgar
order, but has been the disease of great minds immemorial. His great
crime against weak humanity lies in the fact that he was born a critic.
Iago was not more positively critical than Hooker, though the latter
is not necessarily "nothing if not critical," as was Othello's evil
genius. Hooker can not resist the temptation to criticise; and, being
unable to appreciate that questionable code of morality in which policy
dictates that the truth is not always to be spoken, he has made himself
life-long enemies. He can attribute with perfect justice every failure
of his life to that one "weakness of the noble mind." It accelerated
his retirement from the service in 1853; it originated the difficulties
which nearly prevented his re-entry into the service in 1861; it
retarded his promotion, lay at the root of all his difficulties as
commander of the Army of the Potomac, made enemies of his subordinates,
and defeated his every plan, and at last forced him to resign command
of the army. It nearly defeated his every effort to regain a command.
It cost him many difficulties in the event, and finally forced him to
retire from active command under Sherman just as the war was being
wound up with the grand _crescendo_ movement of Grant. He was bitterly
assailed by the press, and persecuted by fellow-officers for his
various criticisms, and even accused of insubordination by men who
did not know that from time immemorial the orders of generals have
been freely criticised by subordinates, who did not fail to obey them,
however. Diogenes was not the only critic of Alexander the Great.
Napoleon would have suffered even more than McClellan from criticism
if he had been as poor a soldier, for McClellan had but one honest
critic, Hooker, and all of Napoleon's marshals frequently criticised
his movements. Criticism forced the arbitrary Czar of Russia to abandon
the chief command of his army in the face of Napoleon's invasion of
1812, and turn over the command to a general who was not one of his
favorites. Hooker was, indeed, the only genuine military critic which
the war produced. Sherman occasionally indulged in critiques, but his
temper interfered with his judgment, and made his criticism as absurd
as vain. Fremont was merely a critic without being a general, and
found fault for the love of fault-finding. General Meigs, who also
tried his hand at criticism, was simply good-natured, not critical.
Cluseret and Gurowski were simply Bohemians, and Assistant Secretary of
War Dana won reputation only as "Secretary Stanton's spy."
The candor of Hooker's criticisms make them highly palatable. One
naturally admires the decision which marks them, and, though some may
consider his reasonings incorrect and his deductions unjust, they
must enjoy the perfect independence with which they are uttered.
His criticism on the battle of Bull Run first brought him to the
consideration of Mr. Lincoln, who read characters at a glance. His
famous criticism on McClellan, in which he did not hesitate (he never
hesitates either to censure or to fight) to attribute the failure
of the Peninsular campaign to "the want of generalship on the part
of our commander," gave him more publicity than his early battles.
The late President used to remark that he had never had occasion to
change the favorable opinion which he formed of Hooker on hearing
his criticism on the battle of Bull Run. The criticism on McClellan
indicates the character of the critic as that of a quick, resolute,
decided man, ready to take all responsibilities. The character has
been fully established by Hooker since he uttered that remarkably free
criticism. Hooker's opinion of McClellan has been attributed to envy
of the latter's position, but I think that he formed his conclusions
of the man long before the war of the rebellion. A circumstance which
happened during the Mexican War gave him his idea of McClellan, and
is so admirable an illustration of McClellan's character that I am
tempted to relate it here. Attached to Pillow's head-quarters, where
Hooker was chief of staff, was a young American, since celebrated as
an artist. He had long been resident in Mexico; was imprisoned on the
approach of our forces to the city, but managed to escape and reach our
army. Here he volunteered to act as interpreter to General Pillow, and
accompanied the army in this capacity through the rest of the campaign.
One day, while encamped in the city after its capture, Captain Hooker
requested the artist to make a drawing of a very superior piece of
artillery captured during the assault. It happened that this gun was in
the camp of a company of sappers and miners, and thither he repaired
to make the sketch. On going to the company head-quarters, he found
Gustavus Smith, the captain, and Callender, the first lieutenant of
the command, absent, while Second Lieutenant George B. McClellan, the
officer on duty, was making the rounds of the camp. The artist at once
repaired to the gun which he wished to sketch, and was engaged in doing
so, when McClellan, with an armed guard at his heels, stepped up, with
the martial air of one "dressed in a little brief authority," and
demanded to know who the intruder was, and by what authority he was
there engaged in sketching. The artist, smiling at the manner of the
young man, very quietly handed him Captain Hooker's authority for the
work he was doing. On reading it McClellan dismissed the guard, and
opened a conversation with the intruder, asking him various questions,
and at last eliciting the fact that he had been for several years past
a resident of the city of Mexico. Instantly McClellan's interest was
excited, and he propounded innumerable questions to the artist on--not
the history, wealth, resources, defenses, etc., of the city, as one
would naturally suppose a young soldier might consistently do, but
upon the condition, character, wealth, standing, etc., of the best
families of the first society of the city! He asked particularly after
the most fashionable, and aristocratic, and wealthy houses, and more
particularly still about the leading dames of the fashionable circles.
He finally concluded by complaining to his informant that he found it
difficult to get introduced to the first families, and had been much
disappointed in not getting admitted into the best Mexican society.
The story was too good to keep, and Hooker, Pillow, and all the staff
afterward enjoyed the artist's frequent relation of the story of the
young man who "fought to get into the best Mexican society." I have
often thought that the young Napoleon conducted his Potomac campaigns
as if his purpose was to place himself on such a footing that, on
arriving at Richmond, he would be readily admitted into "the best
Southern society." Advising a man of McClellan's character, as Hooker
once did, to disobey orders and move on Richmond, with the encouraging
comment that he "might as well die for an old sheep as a lamb," was
like throwing pearls to swine.
The criticism on McClellan and his want of generalship was mistaken
by a great many for vanity instead of candor, and the press of the
country heartily ridiculed Hooker's vanity. He was called an _exalte_,
an enthusiast. He has certainly a good opinion of himself, as all
great men, not only warriors, but philosophers, have invariably had of
themselves. Many not less famous men have been vain of lesser qualities
than Hooker boasts, and their own good opinions of themselves have
been adopted by posterity. Hooker is proud of his mental abilities.
Cæsar was proud of his personal appearance, and devoted more hours to
the plucking of gray hairs from his head than he did to sleep. Vanity
and valor often go hand in hand. Murat was equally brave and vain, and
made his famous charges bedizened in gold lace, and resplendent with
fanciful furs and ermine trimmings. Heroes are seldom sloven. Cromwell
and Sherman, in their slovenliness, are paradoxes in nature as they are
marvels in history.
Hooker's retirement from the army was accelerated, and his subsequent
return to the service was retarded, as has been stated, by this
habit of freely criticising the operations of the army. The history
of his troubles is as follows: Immediately after the close of the
war with Mexico, Hooker was called upon to testify before a court of
investigation, which had the settlement of the difficulties between
Generals Pillow and Worth growing out of the assaults on Chapultepec.
In the course of his examination he very freely criticised some of
the movements of General Scott, the commander-in-chief, and with that
confidence in his own judgment which is a marked characteristic of
Hooker, and which, strange to say, betrays nothing egotistical in it,
told how he would have accomplished the same ends attained by Scott at
less loss, by other movements. Scott, with good reason, was mortally
offended; and when Hooker's resignation reached his hands in the
routine channel of business, it was not delayed for lack of approval,
but was forwarded with a recommendation that it be accepted. When
Hooker wished, at the beginning of the rebellion, to return to the
army, General Scott stood in the way; and being supreme in authority,
under the President, he permitted Hooker to beg for admission for some
months, keeping him dancing attendance unavailingly at the doors of the
war office.
Hooker lingered for several months at Washington endeavoring to get
a command, only leaving the city to witness the Bull Run battle; but
at last wearied out, and seeing no hope of attaining his ends, he
determined to return to California. Before leaving, however, he called
upon the President, whom he had never met, to pay his parting respects,
and was introduced by General Cadwallader as "Captain Hooker." The
President received him in his usual kind style, but was about to
dismiss him, as time required that he should dismiss many, with a few
civil phrases, when he was surprised by Hooker's determined tones into
listening to his history.
"Mr. President," he began, "my friend makes a mistake. I am not
'Captain Hooker,' but was once Lieutenant Colonel Hooker, of the
regular army. I was lately a farmer in California, but since the
rebellion broke out I have been here trying to get into the service,
but I find I am not wanted. I am about to return home, but before going
I was anxious to pay my respects to you, and to express my wishes for
your personal welfare and success in quelling this rebellion. And I
want to say one word more," he added, abruptly, seeing the President
was about to speak; "I was at Bull Run the other day, Mr. President,
and it is no vanity in me to say I am a damned sight better general
than you had on that field." The President seized and shook Hooker's
hand, and begged him to sit down; began a social chat, which, of
course, led to a story, and thus on to a more intimate acquaintance.
The President, who was Hooker's firmest friend afterward, used to take
great pleasure in telling the circumstance, and the effect of the
speech upon him. The boast was made in the tone, not of a braggart,
but of a firm, confident man, who looked him straight in the eye, and
who, the President said afterward, appeared at that moment as if fully
competent to make good his words. He was satisfied that he would at
least try, and, impressed with the resolute air not less than with
the high recommendations of "Mr. Hooker," requested him to defer his
return to California. Hooker remained in Washington, and among the
numerous changes which shortly followed the battle of Bull Run and the
retirement of General Scott was the transformation of "Mr. Hooker" into
"Brigadier General Hooker."
Hooker sometimes indulged in sharp criticisms even in his official
reports. During the battle in Lookout Valley he sent a portion of his
left wing, under General Shurtz, to the assistance of General Geary;
but the former became mixed as to his topography, and did not reach
the battle-field until too late to aid Geary, who accomplished his
task successfully. He reported, in extenuation of his failure, that he
found a wide swamp in his path, and had been compelled to go around it.
Hooker, in his official report, after stating General Shurtz's excuse,
adds very quietly that he had thoroughly examined the country between
General Shurtz's camp and the battle-field, and that no such swamp as
described existed.
Another criticism on some of his subordinates during the battle of
Lookout Mountain reacted on Hooker in consequence of being too
delicately put by him, and too broadly by Grant in an indorsement.
During the assault of that mountain, General Walter Whitaker commanded
the second line of the attacking column under Geary, and the formation
being that of _échelon_ on the right, Whitaker was some distance in the
rear. When Geary's front line reached and took the rebel position, a
large number of prisoners and several cannon were captured, and turned
over by the front line to Whitaker. Whitaker sent the prisoners to the
rear, secured them and the guns; and in his official report represented
them as his captures. Geary, in his report, mentioned, as he had a
perfect right to do, the captures as his, and thus the reports showed
double the list of actual captures. Hooker, in a quiet, sarcastic
vein, whose irony is hardly visible to those not acquainted with the
circumstances, alluded to this double report, and gave the full number
of captured guns and men with an ironical exclamation point at the
end of the sentence. Grant turned the joke on Hooker by indorsing
his report, with the statement that the amount of captured material
enumerated exceeded the actual captures by the whole army!
When Burnside was in command of the Army of the Potomac he executed
an order, which was afterward suppressed by the President, dismissing
several officers of his army from the service for various reasons.
Among the number was General Hooker, dismissed, as might naturally be
supposed, for having criticised the action of his commanding general
at Fredericksburg. The order, which was known as "General Order No.
8," was not carried into effect, and only saw the light through the
treachery of a clerk in the adjutant general's office of the army.
Instead of the order being carried out, Burnside soon after resigned,
and Hooker assumed command of his army.
Hooker left the Army of the Cumberland in consequence of having freely
criticised Sherman's movements on the advance on Atlanta. The failure
of Sherman to promptly follow up his success in seizing Snake Creek
Gap, and to retrieve the blunder of McPherson on retiring from before
Resaca in May, 1864, was particularly provoking not only to Hooker, but
to every other commander who saw Joe Johnston slip through Sherman's
fingers in consequence of that delay, and Hooker very freely alluded
to it as a blunder. The natural consequence of this, and subsequent
instances of candid criticism on Hooker's part, was the creation of
some considerable prejudice against him in Sherman's mind. Sherman
was of too bilious a temperament ever to sacrifice an opportunity
to vent his spleen, and when he found an occasion he took care to
resent the insult of which Hooker had been guilty in criticising
him, forgetting that Curtius and Alexander, Jomini and Napoleon had
ever existed. The opportunity came. When McPherson, the commander of
the Army of the Tennessee, was killed in front of Atlanta, Hooker
was left the senior major general in command of a corps in Sherman's
department, and he naturally expected to be placed in command, the
more so as the President so desired. But Sherman appointed General O.
O. Howard to the command, subject, of course, to the approval of the
commander-in-chief. Mr. Lincoln telegraphed Sherman, requesting him to
appoint General Hooker; and on Sherman's reiteration of his desire to
have General Howard appointed, the President urged Hooker's appointment
in stronger terms. General Sherman was determined that Hooker should
not be appointed, and with an impertinence characteristic of Sherman,
replied, that "his resignation was at the service of the President."
Had Mr. Lincoln been a thorough military man instead of a good-natured
and indulgent President, he would have at least punished Sherman
for such an unwarrantable reply, but he only smiled at it and liked
Sherman, as every body else did, all the better for what looked like
independence rather than impertinence. The consequence was that Howard
was appointed. A thousand worse appointments might have been made, and
I don't know but what the methodical Howard better suited the command
than Hooker would have done. Hooker took umbrage at the appointment of
Howard--the insult was too glaring and offensive to be overlooked--and
at his own request he was relieved of command under Sherman by the
President, and given the command of the Department of the North.
It is not to be supposed, from what I have said about Hooker's
disposition to criticise, that he is of a vindictive nature. His
disgust is not irrevocable. He is always ready to forgive a blunder
when retrieved by a success. He is particularly constant in his
friendships. There are several instances of his friendship for men,
which are remembered without being remarkable except for their
constancy, and as illustrating the kindness of his heart. He was
particularly devoted years ago to the interest of an humble friend
whom he met in Mexico under rather singular circumstances. During the
battle of Churubusco he was sent by Pillow with an order to one of the
brigade commanders. Being compelled to cross a ditched field--very
common in Mexico--he went on foot, with only his sabre at his side.
While crossing the field he was suddenly attacked, not by Mexican
Lancers, but by a Mexican bull, who dashed unexpectedly at him. He
immediately turned and gave battle in the true _matador_ style,
thrusting with his sabre whenever an opportunity offered, and springing
out of the way, with all the activity of a bull-fighting Spaniard. He
was fast getting weary of the sport, however, when he saw at a distance
a private of the Mounted Rifles, and called on him to shoot the beast.
After much trouble he at last attracted the attention of the soldier,
who quickly obeyed orders, crossed the ditch and shot the bull, much to
the relief of Hooker. The soldier immediately afterward disappeared,
and Hooker found it impossible to discover him, though search was made
through camp for the preserver of his life, as Hooker persisted in
considering him. He did not give up the search, and at last discovered
the man years after in Washington. He was in want. Hooker, having
some influence, obtained him a position in one of the departments at
Washington, where he still remains, a firm friend of Joe Hooker, and
boasting of enjoying the friendship of the "commander of the best army
on the planet."
Like most nervous men, Hooker is untiringly energetic. He goes at
every thing, as he does at the enemy, with a dash. He talks at you
with vigor, piles argument on argument in rapid succession--argument
which requires not less vigorous thought to follow and answer--couples
facts with invectives, and winds up with a grand charge of resistless
eloquence which has much the same effect as the grand charge of a
reserve force in battle. He works with the same rapidity--the same
nervous, resistless energy, and does not know what fatigue is. He has
energy equal to Sherman, and in his organization and habits is somewhat
like Sherman, though more elegant. Hooker is the very impersonation of
manly grace, dignity, delicacy--a thorough-bred gentleman. Hooker has
energy equal to Grant, but he has not Grant's patience, stoicism, or
imperturbability. He is not content, like Grant, to wait for results.
His strength lies in his momentum; Grant's in his weight. It was
perhaps because Hooker so nearly resembles him, and because Howard
had such opposite characteristics, that Sherman preferred the latter
as commander of the Army of the Tennessee. Howard and Hooker have
certain qualities in common, but yet are as different in organization
as Sherman and Howard. Howard is, like Hooker, a finished gentleman,
princely in manners. No one meeting them can fail to notice that both
are equally graceful, equally handsome, equally dignified, considerate,
manly, and courteous. But Howard, unlike Hooker, is exceedingly
methodical, is always calm, self-possessed, and of a lymphatic rather
than a bilious temperament. Hooker is ever sanguine. It is not to be
supposed that, because he is a quick worker, he easily flags in his
hasty labor. His energy never gives out, and he is as persistent as
Thomas, more so than Sherman, and vies with Grant in this respect.
The title of "Fighting Joe" is very offensive to General Hooker, but
I have chosen to use it as the heading for this article because it
accurately as well as briefly describes the character of the man. It
was given him by an accident, but it was a happy one; and when history
comes to sum up the characteristics of our heroes, she will apply it
as indicative of Hooker's character. The circumstances under which it
was given are as follows: The agent of the New York Associated Press
is often compelled, during exciting times, to furnish his telegraphic
accounts by piecemeals, in order to enable the papers to lay the
facts before the public as fast as received, and hence, in order
to number the pages correctly, he has to originate what are called
"running heads," or titles, each being repeated with every page. When
the account of the battle of Malvern Hill was being received by the
Associated Press agent at New York, there was such great excitement
in that city that it even extended to the telegraph operators and
copyists, who were generally considered proof against such fevers of
excitement. In the midst of the sensation which that battle created,
one of the copyists, in his admiration of the gallantry and daring of
General Hooker as detailed in the report, improvised as a "running
head" the title "Fighting Joe Hooker," which was repeated page after
page. Two or three of the papers adopted it, in lieu of a better, as
the head-line for the printed accounts, and heralded the battle of
Malvern Hill under that title. The name "stuck," and has been fixed on
Hooker irretrievably. Instead of accepting the title as a decree of
fate, he can not bear to hear it. "It always sounds to me," he once
said, when allusion had been made to it, "as if it meant 'Fighting
Fool.' It has really done me much injury in making the public believe
I am a furious, headstrong fool, bent on making furious dashes at the
enemy. I never have fought without good purpose, and with fair chances
of success. When I have decided to fight, I have done so with all the
vigor and strength I could command."
A very general idea at one time prevailed that General Hooker was a
hard drinker, very often indulging to great excess, but this has of
late been corrected. As far as my rather close observation goes, the
impression was unfounded. It had its origin with that pestiferous class
of humorists who devote their energies to the renewal of old jokes for
the sake of modern application. Many of the false impressions which
were afloat regarding Mr. Lincoln found their origin in the habit
which the Joe Millers of the age had of crediting their stories, both
witty and vulgar, to Mr. Lincoln instead of to the Irish nation as
formerly. It is from these same fellows that Hooker has suffered, and
three fourths of those who declared him to be a drunkard had no better
foundation for the assertion than a story told as coming from Mr.
Lincoln, in which Hooker was recommended to avoid Bourbon County in his
passage through Kentucky. Hooker's style of living in camp was elegant,
more from the attention of the staff officers who messed with him than
from his own desire, taste, or exertions. He was always indifferent to
personal comfort, though very particular as to personal appearance.
His complexion may have been the origin of the stories about his
drunkenness, but every one familiar with him knows that his roseate hue
is natural to him. His complexion is red and white most beautifully
blended, and he looks as rosy as the most healthy woman alive. His
skin never tans nor bleaches, but peels off from exposure, leaving the
same rosy complexion always visible. The Spanish women in the city of
Mexico, with whom he was a great favorite, described his complexion by
an adjective, a mongrel Spanish word which I have now forgotten, but
which I remember signified "the only man as beautiful as a woman."
_El capitan hermoso_, "the handsome captain," was a phrase as common
with the Mexican ladies of the Mexican capital as "Fighting Joe"
is now with the American public. _El buen mozo_ was another phrase
among them; while more intimate admirers called him _El guero_, "the
light-haired." The light brown hair is now much tinged with gray, and,
until lately, _El buen mozo_, the comely youth, despite the ravages
of time, was a splendidly preserved young gentleman of fifty. But the
tall, erect, muscular figure of _El capitan hermoso_ has been bent
and weakened, but not by age. His animal spirits are just as great as
when he marched through Mexico, but his physical endurance is gone,
perhaps, forever. His full, clear eye is just as bright to-day as it
was when he was simply captain and chief of staff to General Pillow,
but he can not spring as nimbly into the saddle at the sound of opening
battle. On the 20th of November, 1865, while assisting at the reception
of General Grant at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, New York, he was suddenly
stricken with paralysis, and was carried to his residence in a helpless
state. He lost the use of his right side, leg, and arm, and will, it
is feared, become a confirmed invalid. His physicians declare that
the paralytic stroke was the result of a blow received by Hooker at
the battle of Chancellorsville nearly three years before. The general
became very much reduced by this disease; his frame became bent and
emaciated, and something of the symmetry of his features was lost. Very
little hope of his ultimate recovery is entertained by any other person
than himself; but nothing can convince the sanguine general that his
health will not return to him in time.
[Illustration: LOVELL H. ROUSSEAU.]