CAPTAIN POE’S CONCLUSIONS--PRESIDENT LINCOLN’S
PROCLAMATION--GENERALS SHERMAN AND GRANT--INTERCESSIONS WITH GEN.
FOSTER--BATTLE OF RESACA--INFLUX OF REFUGEES TO KNOXVILLE.
“What is the end of fame? ’Tis but to fill
A certain portion of uncertain paper.”
BYRON.
“No more shall the war-cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of our dead!
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;--
Love and tears for the Blue;
Tears and love for the Gray.”
F. M. FINCH.
Captain Poe, towards the conclusion of his official report to Gen.
Burnside, has given a judicious estimate of the events just narrated.
He says:
“The siege of Knoxville passed into history. If mistakes were made
in the defence, they were covered by the cloak of success. That many
were made in the attack was apparent to us all.[50] That the rebels
made a great error in besieging, is as evident as it now is, that to
accept siege at Knoxville was a great stroke of military policy. The
results of the successful defence are, the defeat of Bragg’s army
and consequent permanent establishment of our forces at Chattanooga,
with tolerably secure lines of communication; the confirmation of our
hold upon East Tennessee; the discomfiture and loss of prestige of
the choicest troops of the enemy’s service.... Is there any man of
that part of the army of the Ohio which was in Knoxville, who would
exchange his nineteen days of service there for any other of the
achievements of his life? Was there a regiment there which will not
put Knoxville on its banners as they now bear Roanoke or Newbern,
Williamsburg or Fair Oaks, Chantilly or South Mountain, Antietam or
Vicksburg?”
The news of Burnside’s successful defence carried joy to Washington
and to all friends of the United States everywhere. The President
issued a proclamation concerning it, in which he spoke of the retreat
of the enemy from before Knoxville “under the circumstances rendering
it probable that the Union forces” could not thereafter “be dislodged
from that important position.” He recommended that “all loyal people”
should “on receipt of this information, assemble at their places of
worship and render special homage and gratitude to Almighty God, for
this great advancement of the National cause.” Congress joyfully
thanked Burnside and his army.
Maj. Gen. John G. Foster, Gen. Burnside’s successor in command of the
Department, was a wholly different type of man, and could not have
sustained rivalry with Burnside in his characteristic lines of life
and conduct. Nor was Foster at all emulous to excel him in that way.
He sought to do his duty after his own fashion, and the fault-finding
to a limited extent, with which his administration met, was largely
due to the comparison civilians would silently make in their minds
between him and his predecessor, to his depreciation, as the lesser
of the two chief lights in their military firmament.
Gen. Sherman, who had arrived in town on December 6, remained only a
few days. His freely active temperament was a subject of observation.
He held himself in no severe restraint, such as a small official’s
sense of dignity would impose. A young Unionist who had been driven
from his home to take refuge in Knoxville, had some skill in portrait
painting, and desired to copy a portrait of the deceased Bishop Otey
of Tennessee that hung in the parlor of the house then occupied
as headquarters. When he applied to Gen. Foster for a loan of the
picture, Gen. Sherman heard the request and springing quickly to his
feet, said:
“Bishop Otey! I knew Bishop Otey. Let’s go and see it.”
When the company had gathered before the likeness, he added--
“I must have that picture. I shall present it to Bishop Otey’s
family.”
The young artist, looking intently at the speaker, said, with great
_sang froid_--
“What is your name?”
“Sherman,” was the reply.
“_General_ Sherman?” he persisted.
“Yes!” said the General: and asked,
“How long do you want the picture?”
Being told, he consented to the loan, and in all probability forgot
entirely that he had made it.[51]
Shortly after Gen. Sherman’s departure from the town, Gen. Grant
visited it, and his reputation for unaffected simplicity of manner,
was confirmed to those who formed his acquaintance. During an
interview with him by a citizen, the conversation turned upon the
siege. The visitor said:
“General, I understand that General Longstreet is loitering in upper
East Tennessee.”
“Yes,” he replied, “I wish now that I had ordered Gen. Sherman to
drive him out.”
This frank admission of a failure to do what ought to have been done,
showed at least, that his head was not turned by the laurels won at
Vicksburg and Mission Ridge, and that he was not morbidly sensitive
about the perfection of his military judgment. If he had then known
the full extent of the ills to the people of upper East Tennessee
which Longstreet’s stay among them would inflict, the omission of the
order to Sherman would have caused him greater regret; for that stay
was prolonged for months. It was instrumental of much annoyance to
the United States troops at various points, and Longstreet’s army,
by living upon the country, contributed largely to bring upon its
inhabitants the great destitution of food, from which they severely
suffered in 1864-’65.
Gen. Foster had received a wound during the Mexican war, from the
effects of which he still now and then suffered, and which furnished
a convenient reason for his being refused to unwelcome visitors. Upon
one very cold afternoon, two visits in quick succession were made to
a citizen, by persons who sought his mediation with General Foster.
First came a committee of Free Masons. A Kentuckian, who belonged
to a Texas regiment, had been unavoidably separated from it at the
time of Longstreet’s retreat from Knoxville, and he had endeavored to
rejoin it through the country south of the Tennessee river. In doing
this, he had unfortunately for himself, worn, in part at least, the
uniform of a Federal soldier, and had also entered in his diary that
he had represented himself as one, in conversation with a woman. He
was captured while hiding in a hay stack, was brought to Knoxville,
tried by court-martial and condemned to death as a spy. Strong
sympathy was felt for him by resident friends of the Confederacy,
and this was shared by the Free Masons, of which fraternity he was a
member. A committee of that order desired the citizen they visited
to intercede with Gen. Foster to reprieve the prisoner until further
proof of his innocence, which they believed to exist, could be
produced.
They had scarcely gone, when a regimental officer from Mississippi
made his appearance. Longstreet, in going eastward, had left in a
hospital at the paper mill three miles northwest of the town, a
number of wounded men, among whom were officers Moody and Smith. The
former was suffering from heart disease, which did not, however,
prevent his really distinguished presence upon the streets. His
remarkable stature and aristocratic physique crowned with a planter’s
broad-brimmed hat, and his lordly bearing, combined to embody the
idea which the natives entertained of “Southern chivalry,” and to
attract special attention. He was said to be withal, a cousin of the
Rev. Granville Moody, of the United States Army, and known as “the
fighting parson.” The other Confederate officer was Major Smith, who
because of his wounds, was still confined to his room in a private
dwelling. On that day some rebel soldiers at the town had broken
their parole, seized guns and absconded. In consequence. Gen. Foster
had ordered that all other Confederate prisoners on parole should be
arrested and sent to jail. This confinement Major Moody averred that
he and Major Smith were physically unable to endure in such severe
weather; and his request was that the citizen should intercede with
the Commander-in-chief to still allow them liberty in the town.
Equipped with this double errand, the citizen went on his way over
the sleety pavements to that officer’s dwelling and said to the
orderly who opened the door:
“I wish to see General Foster.”
“General Foster can’t be seen; he is sick.”
The citizen, at his own request, was then shown to the room of
another United States Officer in the same house. There another
visitor, General ----, had preceded him. He was evidently under the
influence of potations from a bottle of strong drink that stood on
the table near him, and soon the new comer’s refusal to partake of
his spirituous devotions was resented by him with maudlin freedom and
profanity. By and by came a knock at the door, and who should enter
but the veritable General, who just before had been announced as too
ill to receive a visitor.
Not long before, Gen. Foster had sent copies of a Proclamation by
President Lincoln, to be distributed among the soldiers of Gen.
Longstreet. The latter thereupon had forwarded a sharp letter to
Foster, rebuking him for discourtesy, and inviting him to transmit
such documents directly to the commander, instead of seeking to
circulate them privily among the soldiers of his command. To that
letter Gen. Foster had prepared an answer, and he proceeded to read
it to the owner of the room, not probably without expectation of the
high encomium which that gentleman gave it.
When a suitable opportunity occurred, the citizen sought to fulfill
his mission, first by repeating to Gen. Foster the statement of the
committee of Free Masons, and conveying their petition for a short
reprieve to the young Kentuckian.
“No!” was the General’s reply, with knit brows and emphatic
tone, “he must die.” And die he did the next day, on the gallows.
Afterwards it was said that the execution might not or would not have
taken place, had not Longstreet’s army, early in its retreat, hung
a Union man, and left on a tree by the wayside his lifeless body,
placarded with offensive words. Information of the young Kentuckian’s
death, and of the Christian faith and hope with which he met it, was
sent to Richmond, Ky., by a clergyman who was with him in his last
days.[52] Although it was conveyed to his aged father and mother by
their friend,[53] with all possible discretion, the sorrowful news
almost broke their hearts. “But,” the ruthless politician may ask,
“must not war as well as law, have both its just and unjust verdicts?
Must it not have its revenges as well as its wrath?” If so, then let
it stop altogether its destroying marches and strife, and cease from
breaking hundreds and thousands of good old loving hearts by the
untimely death of their sons? Why not?
Concerning the second subject of intercession with Gen. Foster, the
imprisonment of Majors Moody and Smith, he was so far lenient as to
consent that they should not go to the common prison, but be confined
in comfortable quarters. Meanwhile, however, Provost Marshal General
S. P. Carter, in consideration of their physical condition, placed
them again on parole.
Following upon the return of Generals Grant and Sherman to
Chattanooga, the defences of the town were still further
strengthened, and it remained without serious disturbances from
enemies until the end of the Confederacy. Once quite an alarm was
raised in consequence of a rapid movement of Wheeler’s cavalry
through the country and not far away from Knoxville, but the
excitement soon subsided and order and peace prevailed as before.
New conditions were attended by a hopeful vitality. Some of the
officers stationed at the post during 1864-5 mingled freely in social
intercourse with the citizens. Among these were Gen. Tilson of Maine
and his staff; Gen. S. P. Carter, among whose aides was Capt. Thomas;
Col. Gibson, Gen. Stoneman and Col. Ewing. Gen. J. D. Cox of Ohio
impressed all who made his acquaintance, by his fine character and
culture. An exhaustive list of officers worthy of mention would
include Captains Whitman and Chamberlain of the Quarter-master’s
Department, Medical Directors Jackson and Curtis, and Dr. S. H.
Horner.
General Schofield succeeded General Foster in chief command. He
administered affairs judiciously and impressed observers as a serious
person, who understood the value of method in conducting business,
whatever its relations to human life.
Late in April, 1864, Gen. Schofield was ordered from his post to join
Gen. Sherman’s army in its famous march. Therefore, the Twenty-third
army corps, under his command, leaving Strawberry Plains and
Knoxville, arrived after a hard march and was concentrated May 2 on
the Hiwassee River, near Charleston and Calhoun. That corps included
several Tennessee regiments, viz.: the Third infantry, Col. Wm.
Cross; the Fifth, Col. James T. Shelley; the Sixth, Col. Joseph A.
Cooper;[54] the Eighth regiment. Col. Felix A. Reeve; and, soon after
added, the first infantry, Col. R. K. Byrd.
[Illustration: GEN. JOSEPH A. COOPER.]
The “loyal mountaineers” of Tennessee who enlisted in the United
States army proved their courage upon various battle-fields. No
opportunity has heretofore occurred in this narrative, to say a
word on that subject. The commendation which Gen. Burnside gave his
troops, of course included the East Tennessee soldiers, who were a
part of his command before and during the siege of Knoxville. The
valor which animated them and their compatriots from the same region,
was signally illustrated by the conduct of the above named regiments
at the battle of Resaca. The army corps to which they belonged having
been united May 2d, on the Hiwassee River, proceeded to the vicinity
of Dalton, Georgia, before which place Gen. Sherman was arranging his
lines for the first of the series of encounters with the Confederate
army which he had on his way to the sea. Gen. Thomas on May 7th
had a successful engagement at Tunnel Hill. Schofield’s corps--of
which the Third and Sixth Tennessee regiments were a part--came
into position on Thomas’s left, and occupied a steep ridge. On its
side the men slept. The right wing and centre of Sherman’s army had
advanced so far that on the 9th Schofield was ordered to extend
his lines farther to the left. An East Tennesseean, who was then a
Union officer and an actor in the scene, relates that Gen. Schofield,
“forming his divisions in two lines of battle, with his right resting
at the base of the hills, moved down the valley in the direction
of the Confederate lines, entrenched behind earthworks. As these
two long blue lines moved forward under the eye of the soldiers who
covered the crest of the hills to the north, their hundreds of flags
floating in the breeze and their bayonets glistening in the bright
sunshine, a band began to play ‘The Star-spangled Banner,’ and cheers
rent the air from ten thousand voices. It was a most inspiriting
pageant and filled the men with the wildest enthusiasm.”[55]
Soon the skirmishing began, and was quickly followed by firing from
the Confederate artillery, which continued during the afternoon, but
did not prevent the Union column from moving slowly and steadily
onward until when night fell, it was within a few hundred yards of
the Confederate works. The losses of the day were not very heavy,
those of the Tennessee regiments being perhaps a score killed
and twice that number wounded. The men lay during the night with
their cartridge boxes belted around them, greatly anxious of mind
because of the nearness to each other of the hostile lines, and were
compelled to feed upon such rations as were possible without kindling
fires. The bayonet charge which they expected to make early the next
morning was not ordered, for Gen. Sherman determined to flank General
Johnson’s army and compel its surrender or retreat. To aid in that
movement, Schofield’s divisions were quietly withdrawn--a few troops,
horse and foot, taking their place--and were marched to the rear,
from thence to pass around the Union lines to the neighborhood of
Resaca.
Gen. McPherson had preceded Schofield and taken position, and on
the 13th the Second division of the latter’s corps, commanded by
Gen. H. M. Judah, and its Third division commanded by Gen. Jacob D.
Cox, were formed into two lines of battle. The Confederate works
were a few hundred yards distant, with a strip of woods intervening.
For two hours there was skirmishing between the hostile forces.
The Confederates, after being driven back, made a more stubborn
resistance. Then at the word, “Forward!” the main line of the Union
troops advanced with fixed bayonets. Soon they reached the crest of
a ridge, in full view of their entrenched enemy and within range of
his rifles. Twenty or more pieces of artillery opened fire upon them
with grape and canister shot. The minnie balls they encountered fell
thickly like hail-stones in a storm. Down the hillside to the assault
they went at a double quick step. Their cheers, as they went, rose
clear and strong above the din of the battle. At almost every step
one man in every ten of them dropped from the ranks, which still
pressed forward and at the base of the hill entered an open field.
There a creek, parallel with both army lines, stopped their way. The
trees upon its banks had been cut down, and presented a tangled mass
which forbid their progress. To attempt a passage through it under
their adversary’s heavy fire, would have been to incur a needless
sacrifice of human life. Therefore they were ordered to fall back,
and leaving many of their number up to their necks in the water of
the creek, until night fell to their release, the survivors retreated
across the ridge and re-formed.
The losses of the command were distressingly large. Of the two
thousand men, First brigade, Second division, Twenty-third army
corps, who went that day into action, between four hundred and
fifty and five hundred were killed and wounded in fifteen minutes.
In that brigade the Third regiment Tennessee lost one hundred and
twenty-five: the Sixth Tennessee regiment was strangely preserved,
its losses being only thirty.
The subsequent movements of Gen. Sherman’s army resulted in the
evacuation of Dalton by Gen. Johnson, and during the night of May
15th, his forces around Resaca were withdrawn. The Confederate army,
being forced from its first stronghold of resistance in the Georgia
campaign, on the next day moved southward. The bloody battle of
Resaca has been thought to be interesting to Tennesseeans from the
fact that in it “the valor of Tennessee soldiers on both sides was
displayed, was fully tested and found equal to the emergency.”[56]
At that date, the siege of Knoxville was fully numbered with
the things of the past, and the possession of East Tennessee by
the United States army had all the permanence possible in the
circumstances. The country however, was in a sad condition. It had
been the previous year, not only disquieted but impoverished, and in
the winter of 1863-’64 there began an unexampled flood of immigration
into the town from adjoining and eastern counties. It consisted not
only of needy white people. Everywhere the negroes upon obtaining
their freedom during the war, manifested a strong inclination for
town life. On this occasion that disposition was sharpened by the
hope of finding not only refuge from harm but necessary food. At
first the stream of new, homeless, hungry population was small, but
as confidence in the security and certainty of rest which Knoxville
offered and of finding there the sufficient nourishment which could
not be had at home increased, the tide of immigrants rose higher. It
filled vacant tenements, and flowed into the rooms of the University
buildings not already occupied by soldiers. The refugees came into
town on railroad trains and lay all night on the uncovered depot
platform, exposed to the inclemencies of the weather. The question
which humanity as well as Christianity prompted was, what should be
done with and for them. The calamity had many and deep sources, and
threatened to grow with the lapse of time. It would inevitably be fed
more and more from the large impoverishment that extended over a wide
region, and for which there seemed to be no remedy. Its evil results,
thus brought home to the very doors of the people of Knoxville, might
be overcome in their present magnitude; but how should they be met in
the future when full grown in size? The only feasible method was to
send forth supplies from there to meet and overcome it. The sole yet
fatal objection to such a plan was the absence of means to carry it
into effect.
But God is good, and His mercy is over all His works. He had already
put it into the heart of one of His servants to begin an enterprise
that would by His blessing bring help from a distance to the needy
people, more than a few of whom were ready to perish.
At that date war had wrought its ravages for more than three and
a-half years. For a large part of that period, in some regions of
the land, it had stayed the hand of the husbandman from industrious
toil and prevented the fruits of the earth. In many instances the
farmers’ barns were no longer, as formerly, filled with plenty, for
the words of Joel, so ominously read in churches on the Sunday after
the Baltimore fight in April 1861, had proved truly predictive, and
plough-shares had been turned into swords. Multitudes of hearts
everywhere from Maine to the Gulf, and from the Atlantic to the
far West, were now yearning for peace. Had not enough blood been
shed, enough human life sacrificed upon the altar of Mars? Might
not Americans cease now from destroying each other and brethren be
reconciled? Perhaps the night of desolation and sorrow was well-nigh
spent and the day of peace about to dawn! And so it was, but men did
not know it.
Soon kindly hands came in and healed where they could the wounds
war had inflicted. They fed the hungry and clothed the naked, until
by their industry they could feed and clothe themselves. It was a
Christ-like work in which any man might be thankful to be engaged.