1872
GENERAL SHERMAN VISITS US AT ZURICH--LETTERS FROM HIM--SWISS
OFFICERS ENTERTAIN HIM--HIS LAKE EXCURSION--HE EXPLAINS HIS
GREATEST CAMPAIGN TO THEM--HE IS ENTERTAINED AT THE SWISS
CAPITAL--LETTER FROM GENERAL DUFOUR.
_August, 1872._--General Sherman had written me late in the previous
Autumn of his intention to visit Europe. Admiral Alden was appointed to
the command of our squadron at Villa Franca, and invited the General
to sail with him in his flagship, the “Wabash.” They left on Nov. 11,
1871. In his note he had said, “I am certainly hoping to arrange my
route so as to pay you a visit.” This rejoiced us greatly. I heard
nothing more till January 16th, when he sent me another little note
from Marseilles:
“MARSEILLES, FRANCE, Jan. 14, 1872.
“DEAR BYERS: You will have seen in the public journals that I am
adrift. Of course, during my travels I intend to come to Zurich
to see you, but the time when is uncertain. Now the season is
not favorable, and I find it to my interest to stay near the
Mediterranean till spring. I left my ship at Gibraltar near a
month ago. Have been through Spain and the south of France, and
am now on my way to rejoin the ship at Nice. We expect to spend
all of February in Italy, March in Egypt and the East, April
in Prussia, and I expect to swing round by Dresden, Vienna and
Munich to Zurich in May. I hope then to find you in good health.
Should you have occasion to write me, a letter to the care of
the United States Consul at Nice will be forwarded. With great
respect, your friend,
W. T. SHERMAN.”
In a month he wrote again, this time from Italy. On Feb. 8th I had
written him of an intended military demonstration on the part of the
authorities, in his honor, when he should come to Zurich. This he was
adverse to, as his note indicates:
“NAPLES, Feb. 28, 1872.
“DEAR BYERS: I have received yours of Feb. 8th, and avail myself
of about the last chance to write in reply. It will be some time
before we can possibly approach Zurich from the direction of
Vienna, and I suppose by that time I will be pretty well used
up; yet, if I can do anything to please you, will do my best.
Please say to the gentlemen of Zurich that when I reach Zurich,
the less display of even a volunteer or militia force, the
better; but I will leave it to your own good sense to do what is
best for them, and for me. Maybe it would be better to postpone
all preliminaries till you hear from me at Vienna. We embark
to-morrow for Malta and Alexandria, Egypt, and it will be some
time before we turn up again in the direction of Moscow and St.
Petersburg. Our aim is to cross the Caucasus to the Caspian, to
Astrachan by the Volga, to Nishni, and so on to Moscow; so, you
see, I have a good, long journey yet before me. Meantime, I hope
you will continue well. As ever, your friend,
W. T. SHERMAN.”
Again there was a silence till spring. General Sherman did not carry
a newspaper reporter around with him, to report his journeys and his
doings. He was traveling as a private gentleman, seeing, and not being
seen. At least, this was what he wished. He had gone to the far East,
had come back to Constantinople and crossed the Caucasus Mountains. In
May he wrote again from St. Petersburg:
“ST. PETERSBURG, May 30, 1872.
“DEAR BYERS: My party is now reduced to myself and Colonel
Audenried, Fred Grant having gone to Copenhagen to see his
aunt, Mrs. Cramer, who is now on the point of going to America.
I don’t now know whether Grant will rejoin me at Vienna or go
direct to Paris, to see his sister Nellie, and await us there.
At all events, Audenried and I start at noon to-day for Warsaw,
then Berlin, Dresden, Vienna, etc., to Zurich, where we ought to
arrive between the 15th and 20th of June. I prefer much not to
be complicated with private engagements or displays of any kind,
for it takes all my time to see the country, and it is awfully
tiresome to be engaged day and night in receiving and returning
calls. I hope you will appreciate this, and have no preparations
made till we arrive, and then if I can do you any service by
seeing your friends, I will do my best. Truly your friend,
W. T. SHERMAN.”
Early in August he and Colonel Audenried were with us in Zurich. No
public demonstration took place on his arrival. It was as he had
wished. We took him out to Bocken, our home on the lake, and had a few
delightful days with him there.
I recall that on the first day we had dinner spread underneath the
trees, out on the terrace of Bocken. The blue lake lay a thousand feet
below us, the white mountains shone in the distance, behind us were
high hills covered with evergreen forests. About the chateau were
bright meadows and rich vineyards. There is scarcely a scene more
beautiful in this world. Yet, I was surprised how little it affected
him. In the presence of such grandeur, he seemed at that moment
unimpressionable. He was a man of moods. I called his attention to the
glorious view. “Not more beautiful,” he said at last, “than the lakes
near Madison. I think of them when I see this. I like American scenery
better than any of it. It is the real, native thing in our country.
Man has done nothing there. Here, in Europe, so much is artificial.”
Yet there was nothing artificial around him here; unless it were the
much-vaunted, little, red, wooden-looking Swiss strawberries on the
table. He wondered how we could adopt the Swiss way of pouring wine on
them, instead of cream and sugar. The big cake in the center of the
table was decorated with preserved fruits. “How singular that is, isn’t
it?” he said; “real Dutch.” But he liked it for all that. He liked,
too, our simple table, though an American dish or two had been prepared
in his honor; and he had a relish for good wine, but was moderate in
its use. When we had the champagne, I proposed his health. “No,” said
he, gallantly, rising to his feet, “we drink the health of Mrs. Byers.”
“Both together then,” I said.
He was happy when I gave him a cigar. The scene began to have some
interest for him. It was finer than Madison after all. I think the
dinner increased his appreciation. The practical side of what he saw
was always in his mind. He measured the near hills with his eye and
guessed their height. “North must be right over there,” he said,
pointing, though the sun was not shining. The snow mountains were
twenty miles away--not thirty, as we had stated. He was sure he “never
missed on distances.” But he did this time. He climbed up to the
winemill in the barn loft, examined the presses below, took hold of
the queer scythes of the mowers, and undertook to describe an American
mowing machine to a peasant, who did not understand a word of English.
In an hour or so he was acquainted with everything practical about the
place.
At supper he ridiculed the American ways of traveling abroad.
“‘Tourists’ is the right word for them,” he said. “They are not
observing travelers at all. Their time and money is thrown away.”
He told of an American girl who rode one hundred miles in a railroad
car with him, through the most interesting part of Spain, and read a
yellow-backed novel all the way. “I never go to a new place, but I
know all about it,” he said; “its topography, geography, history. A
thousand times my habit of observing has afterward been of use to me.”
He told how, when he was a young lieutenant in the army, stationed
in Georgia, his comrades spent their leisure Sundays reading novels,
card playing, or sleeping, while he himself went riding or walking
everywhere, exploring every creek, valley, hill, mountain, in the
neighborhood. “_Twenty years later the thing that most helped me to
win battles in Georgia was my perfect knowledge of the country, picked
up when I was there as a boy._ I knew more of Georgia than the rebels
themselves did.” He insisted on our acquiring a habit of observing
everything, learning everything possible. “You don’t know how soon you
will have use for the seemingly useless thing that you can pick up by
mere habit.” He related how, when he captured a train and telegraph
station down South once--[It happened that I had been present on the
occasion]--he called for some one among the privates to try to take off
messages. His own operator was not at hand. A young soldier, who had
once picked up a little telegraphing as an amusement, stepped forward
and took a rebel message from the wire that turned out to contain
information of vast importance to the whole army.
_August 4._--Yesterday, to make him more comfortable, Mrs. B. had had
a bed placed for the General in our little front salon. “I won’t have
it there at all,” he said. “There shall be no trouble for me. Back it
goes into the bedroom. Give me a cot in the hall--that’s what soldiers
like.” The bed went back.
At noon, a very swell company of cadets came up from Horgen to do the
General a little honor. I happened to be away, and, as the captain
could speak no English, and the General no German, a funny scene
followed. They drew up in line and saluted, and the General saluted in
return. Then he made a good-natured, funny, little speech in English.
They all laughed, and seemed to think it good, gave him a cheer, fired
their guns and went back to the lake. The captain afterward asked me
what it was the General said. I told him that he praised their company
as being one of the nicest he ever saw, and said if they would stack
guns and come to the house, they should drink to his health in some
good champagne. “Mein Gott! and did he say _that_,” said the captain;
“and we, big fools, just walked off and missed it all.”
General Sherman’s memory for names, places and incidents was certainly
phenomenal. He had never been in Russia before, yet, in telling us of
his delightful trip over the Caucasus Mountains, he recalled all the
nearly unpronounceable names of villages and mountains along his route.
He had seen and investigated everything along his way, and talked with
half the people he met, whether they understood him or not. He was so
kindly in his ways, so sincere, no one ever took his addressing him
amiss. I could not help at times comparing him in my mind with what I
had read of the Duke of Wellington.
Colonel Audenried amused us not a little, by telling, _confidentially_,
at the supper table, of the great excursion the General and his
party had tendered them by the Sultan on the Black Sea. The Sultan’s
magnificent private yacht, manned by sailors in gilt jackets, carried
them everywhere. Wines and lunches and dinners were only to command.
It was a beautiful, oriental time; but, when they got back, a bill of
$600, I think, was presented to the General, on a silver platter. He
gracefully paid it, and said nothing.
_August 5._--To-day there was a flowing of champagne, in _fact_. The
army officers, at Zurich and in neighboring towns, chartered a steamer
and arranged for a banquet in the General’s honor at the Castle of
Rapperschwyl, at the upper end of the lake. The day was beautiful, and
it was a fair sight, as the steamer, decorated with Swiss and American
flags, filled with officers in gay uniforms, and with music playing,
turned into Horgen, the landing nearest to Bocken. The villagers
fired cannon, waved flags and cheered, as General Sherman, in full
American uniform, went down from Bocken to the landing. A naturalized
Swiss-American kept a restaurant near to the landing. He had had an
enormous American flag especially made, to hang out as the General went
past his place to the steamer. The General took off his hat to it,
called a pleasant word to the owner of the flag, and the man was happy.
Years afterward he kept that flag as the one the great General had
greeted. He hung it out only on great occasions. I doubt not it will be
wrapped about him at his grave. How easy it is for the great to make
men happy.
The excursion on the lake, and the banquet, were delightful. In the
shadow of the old castle, the talk and the toasts were about two
Republics. The name of William Tell was being spoken with the name
of Washington. The Swiss Dufour and the American Sherman were linked
together, as the Swiss officers touched glasses. It is an international
episode like this that helps, more than all the tricky diplomacy of the
world, to give peoples a kind understanding of each other.
Sherman was amazed to find out that these officers, all the preceding
winter, had (at their officers’ school) been studying his campaigns.
Every move about Kenesaw Mountain, every day of his assaults on
Atlanta, were as familiar to these men as to members of his own staff.
I never in my life saw a more interesting scene than when, under an
awning, on the deck of the steamer, these Swiss officers stood around
him, while, with a big military map before him, he traced for them
the route of the “March to the Sea.” It was a picture for an artist.
It was as if Napoleon had described to a listening group of American
officers, the campaign of Italy. All were greatly impressed with the
great simplicity of his talk, his kindness of manner, as with pencil he
marked for them each interesting spot of the campaign. It was a great
thing to have the most famous march of modern times explained to them
in so friendly a way, by the commander himself.
“I will never forget this day,” said more than one officer to me, as we
left the steamer that evening.
They drew lots for the possession of the map with the General’s pencil
marks, and it fell to Colonel Schindler, the Consul for Austria. “It
shall be an heirloom forever in my family,” said the Colonel to me one
evening at his tea table.
_August 6, 1872._--In the evening, my wife and I gave a reception to
General Sherman at the rooms of the Bellevue hotel in the city. It was
attended by our personal friends, by Americans then in the city, by a
number of officers and by many prominent people. The General was in
full uniform. Numbers spoke English with him, and with others he spoke
tolerable French, that he had learned, probably at West Point.
On the next day it rained, but he was off for the St. Gotthard pass. We
protested against his starting in bad weather. “Weather never holds me
back from a journey,” he said. “If it is raining when I am starting, it
is almost sure to clear up on the way, and when I most need it.”
We were again out at Bocken. He had changed his mind about the scene.
It was the finest view he ever saw. On leaving, he gave my wife an
affectionate kiss, and said, “May God take care of you.” It was to be
years before she would see him again.
* * * * *
_August 20._--Horace Rublee, our minister at Bern, gave a public
reception to General Sherman at the capital the other night. I was
invited to attend. It was a rather elaborate affair, in the Bernerhof.
Outside a band came and serenaded the General, playing some American
airs very poorly. The General was in full uniform. Most of the
prominent people of Bern and many public officials were present. The
General, I noticed, talked quite a little French with some of the
ladies. Nothing of note occurred at this reception, but there was a
fine time, and the General enjoyed himself.
The next day was spent in seeing the sights of the city. At noon I
saw a bit of Sherman’s well-known gallantry for women. Numbers of us,
mostly young men, were standing with him in the Bernerhof corridor. An
elderly lady, alone, passed us and started up the grand stairway. She
was half way up when Sherman’s eye caught her. Instantly he sprang up
the steps and offering his arm escorted her to her room. The rest of us
looked on a little abashed that we had not thought to do this.
* * * * *
While in Switzerland the General had met the famous old Dufour,
the Wellington of the Swiss army, who had so promptly put down the
Rebellion of 1847. With his 100,000 men and his 300 cannon he did more
in a month than most generals do in a year. General Sherman sent him,
through me, a map of his own campaigns. It gratified the old Swiss
warrior greatly and elicited the following reply to me:
“GENEVE, 23rd Janv., 1873.
“MONSIEUR LE CONSUL: J’ai reçu en parfait état le rouleau que
vous m’avez fait l’honneur de m’annoncer par votre lettre du 21.
Je vous en remercie.
“Cette carte est un précieux document pour éclairer l’histoire
des glorieux événements de la dernière guerre d’Amerique.
“Je suis bien redevable a Mons. le Général Sherman d’avoir pensé
à moi en cette circonstance et je vous prie de lui en exprimer
toute ma reconnaissance quand vous aurez l’occasion de lui écrire.
“Agréez, monsieur le Consul, l’assurance de ma considération
distinguée.
G. H. DUFOUR, Général.”