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 PKESENTED Wi 
 
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 :-jigc^c:t:yg: 
 
 JOSEPH E. JOHNSTON 
 
 AN ADDRESS 
 
 DELIVERED BEFORE 
 
 THE ASSOCIATION OF EX-CONFEDERATE SOLDIERS AND 
 SAILORS OF V/ASHINGTON, D. C, 
 
 —BY— 
 
 LEIGH ROBINSON, 
 MAY 12, 1891, 
 
 AT THE MEMORIAL SERVICE HELD IN 
 
 MT. VERNON M. E. CHURCH, SOUTH, 
 
 AND THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE OCCASION- 
 
 Published by the Association, 
 
 WASHINGTON, D. C: 
 R. O. POLKINHORN, PRINTER, 
 
 1S91. 
 
JOSEPH E. JOHNSTON 
 
 AN ADDRESS 
 
 DKLIYERED BEFORK 
 
 THE ASSOCIATION OF EX-CONFEDERATE SOLDIERS AND 
 SAILORS OF V/ASHINGTON, D. C, 
 
 LEIGH ROBINSON, 
 MAY 12, 1891, 
 
 AT THE MEMORIAL SERVICE HELD IN 
 
 MT. YERNON M. E. CHURCH, SOUTH, 
 
 AND THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE OCCASION- 
 
 Putolished by the Association 
 
 WASHINGTON, D. C; 
 
 R. O. POI^KINHORN, PRINTER, 
 1891. 
 
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 I N T R O D I C T O R Y 
 
 The Association of ex-Confederate soldiers and 
 sailors of Washington, T). C, met in Mount Yernon 
 Place M. E. Church on May 12th. 1891, at 8 p. m. 
 A large number of the friends of the association and 
 citizens of Washington and Alexandria were pres- 
 ent. Gen. Eppa Hunton presided. The proceed- 
 ings were opened with prayer by Rev. J. F. Wight- 
 man, D. D. 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 "0 Lord, thou wast our father^ s God, and thou 
 art our God. We invoke thy presence and thy bene-- 
 diction. Thou art the righteous disposer of human 
 affairs, and we meekly bow to thy sovereign will. 
 Thy finger has marked the boundary of all lands, 
 and we receive our land from Thee; a land flowing 
 with milk and honey. We give Thee humble thanks 
 for the endurement of our civil and religious liber- 
 ties, for our laws, our homes, our institutions of 
 benevolence, our schools of learning, and for all the 
 benefits of the means of grace. We give thanks to 
 Thee for the gift of good and great men who have 
 directed the affairs of our people, alike in times of 
 peace and amid the troubles of war. AVe are un- 
 worthy, O Lord, of these manifold blessings, and we 
 beseech Thee pardon the transgressions of our people 
 for the sake of thy Son. Thou hast most graciously 
 l^romised to honor the people that honor Thee; be 
 pleased in thy tender mercy to look upon thy servant, 
 the President of these United States, and upon all 
 
who are empowered to make our laws and to uphold 
 the majesty of government, that we may live a quiet 
 and peaceable life in all godliness. We beseach 
 Thee grant to our people remunerative labor, screen 
 them from the disasters of life, protect their morals, 
 quiet all civil dissensions, sujopress all evils, bless 
 our children, and grant to our homes peace and 
 prosperity, thatthisgreat commonwealth may glorify 
 that name in the virtues and valor of good citizens. 
 Would it please Thee to unite all sections of this 
 country in brotherly concord, that Ephraim may no 
 longer envy Judah, nor Judah vex Ephraim. Hasten 
 the day when from the North to the South, and from 
 the East to the West, our mountains shall nod in 
 homage to Thee, and our cities shall clasp their 
 hands in praising the name of the Lord. Overrule 
 for good, we meekly beseach Thee, all national 
 trouble, the sickness of our people, and the calami 
 ties of war, that the discipline of thy providence 
 may make us wiser and better. Grant, we pray 
 Thee, that the heroic deeds and noble virtues of our 
 great soldiers may only inspire us to cherish the 
 liberty and defend the land that Thou hast given 
 us. We render thanks to Thee for the honored name 
 of the Christian soldier whose worth we commemo- 
 rate on this memorial evening. Be Thou the Father 
 of his family, and the Guardian of all his comrades 
 in arms. Hasten the day, O Lord, when all officers 
 in the field, and all our armies, both upon the land 
 and the sea, shall light the good light of faith, and 
 make a holy surrender to the great Captain of our 
 salvation. Would it please Thee to inspire Thy 
 servant who shall speak to us on this memorial oc- 
 <;asion, and so touch his lips with the generous coal 
 of Thy grace, that he may set forth for Thy glory 
 those virtues of the fallen hero, that may incite in us 
 true patriotism and fidelity to the God of our fathers. 
 Thou hast said, -Blessed is the nation whose God is 
 the Lord, and the people whom he hath chosen for 
 his own inheritance.' The Lord our God be with 
 us as he was with our fathers. Let him not leave 
 
5 
 
 us nor forsake us. Grant this, we beseech Thee, 
 through the name and mediation of our Lord, Jesus 
 Christ. Amen." 
 
 The Chant, "Abide with Me," was then rendered 
 b}^ a quartet of the Church Choir. 
 
 The following verses of a Union Soldier, were, by 
 request, read by Father W. R. Cowaedin, of St. 
 Aloysius Chuch, who prefaced the reading with these 
 words of explanation : 
 
 Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen, Confederate 
 Veterans ; coming, as they do, from one who fought 
 in the Union Army against hira, whose memory we 
 are here to honor, the verses, I am about to read, 
 seem to be an answer to the prayer. Just offered, for 
 peace and union in this dear land. They are writ- 
 ten by Mr. C. E. Mortox, a soldier of the Mexican 
 War, who served there under General Johnston, by 
 whoni he was promoted, on the field of battle at 
 Chapultepec, for gallantry. He sends the verses with 
 the request that they be read here to-night, as a 
 tribute to the memory of one he held in high esteem. 
 The sentiment of the verses is beautiful, and in 
 paying just tribute to three illustrious heroes of 
 the Confederacy, Johnston, Jackson and Lee — he 
 rises above all sectional hatred and shows a mag- 
 nanimity of soul becoming a great man. 
 
JOSEPH K. JOHNSTON, 
 
 W'e mourn not gallant JohnstOxX dead, 
 For lives like his well spent, well sped. 
 
 Are not fit themes for grief ; 
 He leaves a record proud and high : 
 As he did heroes live and die, 
 
 Be life prolonged, or brief. 
 
 His star arose that far-off day, 
 When, bleeding, almost dead, he lay 
 
 Where Cerro Gordo frowns, 
 AVhere his reconnaisance preserved 
 So many lives, that it deserved 
 
 The mural crown of crowns. 
 
 And he was foremost in the fray 
 At Casa Mata's Mills— "del Rey "-- 
 
 Where we fought one to four, 
 Where higher than at Waterloo, 
 For ninety minutes carnage flew. 
 
 Red-robed in Aztec gore. 
 
 At Montezuma's ancient keep — 
 Chapultapec — his accents deep 
 
 Cheered the chec'k stormers on ; 
 Still leading, animating all, 
 Until we forced the city wall, 
 
 And Mexico was won. 
 
 Though I lament the choice he made 
 Whenj-yielding his still stainless blade 
 
 In anti Union strife, 
 I know he deemed it duty done, 
 Dire duty, as ^'irginia's son 
 
 Owed her both fame and life. 
 
 Earth smiling at the praise or blame 
 Of South or North, asserts her claim. 
 
 To Johnston, Jackson, Lee ; 
 Fame shrines them'in her place of pride, 
 And justly; — no such soldiers died 
 
 At thee, Thermopyla; I 
 
Geiseral HuntojV then said : 
 Gentlemen of the Association of ex- Confederate 
 
 Soldiers and Sailors of Washington City. 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemei^: It is a great privilege 
 to meet togetlier as Confederates in this association, 
 the object of which is to help the needy, to cheer the 
 disheartened, to rejoice with those who rejoice, and 
 weep with those who weep, and especially to eulo- 
 gize the virtues of the good and great who go before 
 us. 
 
 I have greatly rejoiced at the formation of this 
 society, and hope it will last as long as Washington 
 city holds any survivors of the dear lost cause. 
 
 We cannot meet to celebrate the success of that 
 cause, but we can and do meet to recount the hard- 
 ships we endured, the sacrifices we made, the vic- 
 tories we won, the defeats we suffered while battling 
 for that cause, which we believed to be as just and 
 sacred as ever animated a patriotic people. 
 
 I feel greatly honored in presiding over your de- 
 liberations on any occasion — but especially honored 
 to preside over a meeting called to honor the mem- 
 ory of one of the greatest and best of our leaders — 
 Greneral Joseph E. Johnstoist. 
 
 He was the last but one of the six Confederate 
 Generals who led our armies to victory, or in defeat 
 inspired them to greater deeds of valor. 
 
 I enjoyed the privilege of knowing General John- 
 ston from an early period of the war ; was his col- 
 league in the Congress of the United States, and 
 from the time he entered Congress till his death, I 
 was honored with his confidence, respect and friend- 
 ship. 
 
 Whether at the head of a victorious or vanquished 
 army, he was always the brave, skilful and trusted 
 leader. 
 
 In the councils of this nation he was the watchful 
 guardian of his peoples' interest. 
 
 In private life he was the patriotic and honored 
 
8 
 
 citizen, and the warm and sympathetic friend. In 
 the domestic circle he was the devoted and affection- 
 ate husband and tender relative. If I had to name 
 the virtue which shone most conspicuously in his 
 bright character, I would say it was the love of his 
 State — his own beloved Virginia. For her and in 
 obedience to her call he sacrificed a high position 
 and a brilliant future in the Federal army to do bat- 
 tle in her defence. To the last moment of his life 
 he looked to her as the child to a beloved mother, 
 and at any time was willing to sacrifice all — even 
 life itself — for her. It is meet and proper that we 
 his followers and survivors, should cherish and honor 
 his memory and emulate his virtues. 
 
 I congratulate theAssociation on the selection of the 
 the orator who will in glowing and eloquent language, 
 tell of the virtues and fame of our departed leader 
 and friend. The Confederacy had no braver, truer 
 or better soldier than our orator for this evening. 
 His career in the army was not so brilliant as that 
 of General Johnston, but his life was as pure, his 
 patriotism was as great, and his courage was as high 
 and noble as of any soldier who followed the "Stars 
 and Bars" through four years of bloody war. 
 
 I introduce my friend Mr. Leigh Robinson, of 
 Washington City, who will now address you : 
 
ADDRESS. 
 
 "Death makes the brave my friends,'' was the 
 great word of the great Crusader; and though the 
 outward empire of the chivalry he led has crumbled 
 to dust, and "their swords are rust," the intrinsic 
 nobleness thereof survives the first crusade and the 
 last. Wherever nobleness has a house, there shall 
 this gospel also be preached. Nor can it be said to be 
 strictly bounded by the noble. The emulation of 
 brave lives, and the preservation of their images, is 
 the wise instinct of mankind. The path to immor- 
 talitj^ is fortitude. In every noble arena this is the 
 crucial test. The corner-stone of every fortress of 
 man's power and man's honor is man's fortitude. 
 Our inmost shrines are altars to this tutelary god. 
 Deep in the heart is the sense of that ineradicable 
 royalty which makes the crown of thorns more than 
 the crown of gold — martyr more than victor. It is 
 the true fixed, the constant quality, that hath no fel- 
 low in the firmanent. Constancy is the pole on which 
 the heavens turn. 
 
 As one who wore this armor against fate, and 
 walked erect beneath it till forescore had been passed; 
 as one who in all relations evinced the enduring fibre 
 which sets the seal on every excellence — Joseph E. 
 JoHNSTOJsr is our theme. We are to consider the ex- 
 ample of a life which by birth was martial. To the 
 son of one Lee's Legion, nourished by the breath of 
 
10 
 
 heroes, in the heroic prime, a soldier^ life seemed 
 the natural office of a soldier's son. A cadetship at 
 West Point was the signal that the parade ground 
 of his life was chosen, the tuition of his destiny be- 
 gun, the Olympian battle joined. "Better," sings 
 an ancient bard, "better is the grave than the life of 
 him who sighs when the horns summon him to the 
 squares of battle." So, sighed not the young sec- 
 ond lieutenant, who graduating with honor in 1829, 
 first won his spurs in the Florida war. 
 
 The war itself must be acknowledged to be a part 
 of that sad chapter, which registers the uncontained 
 avidity of a victor race. When, in July, 1821, 
 Spain ceded the Floridas to the United States, the 
 Indians were roaming unmolested over the Penin- 
 sula, and were the recognized possessors of broad 
 and fertile acres in the heart of the country. The 
 white man's remedy for this is the tangle of treaties, 
 from Avhose net-work the Indian emerges a desolat- 
 ing savage. It is ever a perilous moment, when 
 weakness is the guard of fertility and rapacity is 
 strong. But it is when, in the sequel, devastation 
 and havoc have been loosed, and tottering age, and 
 infantile weakness, and woman's sorrow are alike 
 devoured by infuriated murder, that the army ap- 
 pears upon the scene. Whatever was the primary 
 right or wrong, our young second lieutenant was in 
 the field, not for outrage, but to quell it. He was 
 there to act a soldier's part in the school of a sol- 
 dier's strife and duty. Eight worthily he did it. 
 For it fell to him to extricate from- jeopardy the 
 command in which he was himself but a subordinate ; 
 a jeopardy so great that it left him with the marks 
 
11 
 
 of five bullets on his person and clothing. On the 
 anvil of an ^indomitable will he was already beating 
 into polished brightness the fearless mettle of his 
 sonl. Henceforth, his "baptism of fire" stands 
 sponsor for him. His knighthood has been laid upon 
 his shoulder. 
 
 It is the track of the accomplished knight which 
 we follow in the war with Mexico— that ardent nurse 
 of heroes— where our Second Lieutenant has grown 
 to be Captain of Engineers on the staff of Winfield 
 Scott. When Vera Cruz yielded to bombardment, 
 Captains Robert E. Lee and Joseph E. Johnston, 
 of the general's staff, were appointed to arrange the 
 terms of its surrender. Worthier ambassadors of 
 victory could not have been chosen.. 
 
 The army then moved along the great national 
 road, made by the old Spaniards, to the ancient capi- 
 tal of Mexico. On April 12th, 1847, cannon shots 
 from Cerro Gordo checked the cavalry advance, and 
 made it certain Santa Anna would give battle there. 
 At the head of a pass, winding its ascending way 
 through a narrow defile of mountains, the enemy 
 had fortified himself by a series of breastworks, 
 armed with cannon, which commanded the road and 
 each other. It was easy to see that, on the left, the 
 position could not be taken. Skillful reconnois- 
 sances, in which Johnston bore a conspicuous part, 
 decided the plan of battle, which was an attack upon 
 the right. At the beginning of the assault, John- 
 ston was ordered to make one more reconnoissance. 
 The rattle of musketry had been heard but a iew 
 minutes, when he fell, severely wounded, at the 
 head of his daring movement. Of such is the king- 
 
12 
 
 (lom of victory! There is the dangerous ])ass: there 
 tlie difhcnlt height: there the hero's place: there he 
 falls! All army ruslies over him to triumph. So 
 the steep cone was carried — "the lofty and diffi- 
 cult height of Cerro Gordo," — as the commanding 
 general called it. 
 
 A soldier's w^ounds are the rounds in his ladder. 
 His letter of credit is vs^ritten in his blood. His no- 
 ble traffic is the safety of others in return for blows 
 to himself. Johxston's wounds pointed to him as 
 the fit man to be Lieutenant Colonel of the fine regi- 
 ment of Voltiguers. At their head he led the as- 
 sault upon Chapultepec, and at their head he was 
 again shot down. But his wounds could not imi)ede 
 him from entering the City of Mexico, as Command- 
 ant of the regiment he had so gallantly led. 
 
 After the war, he was, for a time acting Inspector- 
 General. Still later, he was made Lieutenant-Colo 
 nel of Cavalry. Finally, he was appointed Quarter- 
 master, with the rank of Brigadier, — the highest 
 prize which was then accessible. 
 
 Such was the i:>rologue to the more stupendous 
 drama upon which the curtain was now to rise. On 
 one side of that curtain hung every ambitious hope, 
 the fruition whereof might now be counted sure ; 
 on the other the strain of an unequal and untried 
 power against the odds of number and organized re- 
 source. To choose the latter was to plunge into an 
 angry flood which might prove the dark abyss. It 
 was the leap from sure eminence into the storm and 
 roar of the elements. To JoirNSTOX there was no 
 alternative. His choice was the hero's choice, — where 
 the sacrifice was all that was certain. The forlorn 
 
hope had ever been his hope. He forsook the as- 
 sured eminence for the earthquake of revolution ; to 
 stand or fall with the soil it rocked. It was the peril 
 of everj-thing, only to be justified, if principle was 
 at stake. Johnston's justification can be given in 
 no words better than his own. I believed, he says, 
 "that apart from any right of secession, the revolu-^ 
 tion begun was justified by the maxims so often re- 
 peated by Americans, that free government is founded 
 on the consent of the governed, and that every com- 
 munity strong enough to establish and maintain its 
 independence has a right to assert it. Having been 
 educated in such opinions, I naturally determined 
 to return to the State of which I was a native, join 
 the people, among whom I was born, and live with 
 my kindred, and, if necessary, fight in their de- 
 fense." 
 
 It was but little more than a decade since John- 
 ston had freely shed his blood in a war, which grew 
 out of our very willing vindication of the right of 
 Texas to secede from Mexico, and accede to the 
 Union. The United States, somewhat loudly, pro- 
 claimed to the world that this was right. A Presi- 
 dent had been elected for triumphing in that cause. 
 It was natural for Johnston to believe, that a right, 
 which had been so exultingly attributed to a province 
 of Mexico, colonized under her laws, was necessarily 
 annexed to that commonwealth of Virginia, which 
 was the first free State of this New World. Indeed^ 
 it will be always difficult to explain why Texas her- 
 self did not have at least as much legal right to go 
 as to come. 
 
 But for Johnston, as for destiny, there was but 
 
14 
 
 one tribunal to wliich the issue was referred, and that 
 was visibly confronting him. It was for the sword 
 to write the record. The gage of battle was thrown 
 down, and by Johnston lifted with a knight's good 
 conscience. What followed is written in letters of 
 tianie, and in this crude summary is only referred to as 
 illustrative of character. For the first word and act 
 of Johnston when he drew his sword , on the side he so 
 unreservedly espoused, prefigures his quality — the 
 judgment as unswerving as it was intrepid, the fac 
 ulty to be bold or cautious as the emergency de- 
 manded. His sure eye quickly saw that the tri- 
 angle, formed by the Potomac, the Shennandoah, 
 and Furnace Ridge, was untenable by any force not 
 strong enough to hold Maryland Heights, which 
 swept every part of it by enfilade and reverse fires; 
 and that, moreover, it was twenty miles out of po- 
 sition to defend against Patterson's expected ad- 
 vance, or to prevent McClellan's junction with 
 him. His soldierly sense informed him that Win- 
 chester was the strategic point for every purpose. 
 There the practicable roads from west and north- 
 west, as well as from Manassas, meet the route from 
 Pennsylvania and Maryland. Thither, on the 15th 
 of June, he moved his meagre force from the funnel 
 of Harper's Ferry. On the next day Patterson 
 crossed the Potomac. The skill with which, one 
 month later, he eluded Patterson's army of more 
 than thirty thousand, and Jinrled his own from the 
 mountains upon McDowell, was the master-stroke 
 of Manassas — Johnston's rear column, under Kirby 
 Smith, coming upon the field, just as Barnard Bee 
 was falling, and Jackson's Stonewall the last Gibral- 
 
15 
 
 tar- Just when tlie South Carolina Brigade was 
 hardest pressed, an aide or courier of Bee, meeting 
 Johnston, asked, "Where are your Virginians?" 
 •'In the thickest of the fight," was the Spartan an- 
 swer. It was a victory" won by an army which it- 
 self barely grazed defeat, and one, therefore, difficult 
 to pursue. But in this cursory glance one thing 
 cannot be omitted — the full credit which Johnston 
 everywhere gives Beauregard. 
 
 The bold design submitted by the military offi- 
 cers, in a council of war, at Manassas in September, 
 1861, to concentrate at that point the strength of the 
 Confederacy, even at the cost of leaving bare of de- 
 fense points more remote, so that there might be 
 taken an aggressive which would be decisive, is a 
 matter of history. It is expressive of a brave but 
 well balanced judgment, heedful and comprehensive, 
 which sought to exchange risk where victory was not 
 vital for where it was. It is true weighty reasons 
 were given for overruling it. An army of sixty thous- 
 and soldiers was the force deemed essential to such a 
 movement. Troops to increase the army to this num- 
 ber could only be furnished by taking them from other 
 positions then threatened. This seemed to the Execu- 
 tive unreasonable. New troops could not be fur- 
 nished because there were no arms save those which 
 were borne by the troops then in the field. Arms 
 were expected from abroad, but had not come, and 
 the manufacture was still undeveloped. By this 
 council of war, a light is thrown on the military 
 conditions, which, for succeeding mouths, were de- 
 fensive only. In the penury of men and arms thereby 
 revealed excessive forwardness was not obligatory. 
 
16 
 
 But the defensive was one which, whenever as- 
 saulted, as at Leesburg, displayed an undismayed 
 and impenetrable front. 
 
 At the close of the winter and opening of the 
 spring of 1861, the time had come for Johnston to 
 embrace in his vision and preparation, the four 
 routes whereby McClellan might advance — the one 
 chosen the previous July ; another by Fredericks- 
 burg ; the third and fourth by the lower Rappahan- 
 nock, or the Peninsula between the York and James. 
 The choice of the second route (joined to movements 
 which, by the aid of the river, it was easy to con- 
 ceal), would place McClellan at least two days 
 nearer Richmond than was Johnston at Bull 
 Run. Face to face with these conditions, the 
 Confederate General, between the 5th and the 
 11th of March, placed his entire army on the south 
 bank of the Rappahannock, where with equal readi- 
 ness he could resist his antagonist advancing from 
 Manassas, or meet him at Fredericksburg, and at the 
 same time be in a position to unite with others, 
 should he move from Fortress Monroe, or by the 
 lower Rappahannock. On the latter date McClel- 
 lan occupied the works at Centreville and Manassas, 
 which, except by Quaker guns, had been deserted 
 since the evening of the 9th. Fortress Monroe was 
 then chosen as the base of operations against Rich- 
 mond. Soon perceiving the evidence of this, John- 
 ston moved to the south of the Rapidan, whence 
 he could still more effectually unite the forces of 
 opposition to the meditated movement. McClel- 
 lan' s plan was to capture the force on the Peninsula, 
 open the James and press on to Richmond before 
 
17 
 
 reinforcements could arrive. Two things baffled his 
 purpose — lirst, Magruder's inflexible intrenchments; 
 second, Johnston's alertness. On the day McClel- 
 lan began his movement from Fortress Monroe, 
 Johnston began the movement to swell Magruder's 
 handful. It was on the fifth of April that McClel- 
 lan was brought to a halt, in front of Yorktown and 
 the supporting fortifications. As the conclusion from 
 the artillery duel of this day, which was protracted 
 until dusk, it was deemed inexpedient to carry these 
 jDositions by assault. It was an army of a hundred 
 thousand against twelve. With such forces against 
 such forts, it had been ascertained, that the ground, 
 in front of those frowning heights and forbidding- 
 swamps, was swept by guns, which could not be 
 silenced. Accordingly, parallels were started to bring 
 Yorktown to terms by a more gradual procedure 
 There is, however, no piarallel to the confession ex- 
 torted from McClellan by Magruder. 
 
 From the final parallel, it was thought siege bat- 
 teries would be ready to open on the 6th of May. 
 Johnston's comi^utation, coinciding with McClel 
 lan's, Yorktown was evacuated on the night of the 
 3d. On the morning of the 4th, empty works again 
 capitulated to the conqueror. 
 
 It was at the junction of the Yorktown and Hamp- 
 ton Roads, at about half -past five on the morning of 
 the 5th, that Hooker's sharp shooters, leading the 
 pursuit, drove in the Confederate picket. It was in 
 front of Fort Magruder, one of a cordon of redoubts, 
 thirteen in number, which Magruder's forethought 
 had constructed. It was just two miles from the 
 venerable shades and spires of Williamsburg. With- 
 
18 
 
 in two miles of Hooker, at the time, were thirty 
 thousand troops ; within twelve miles the bulk of the 
 Army of the Potomac. He, therefore, made his dis- 
 positions to attack, so that if he did not capture the 
 army before liim, he would at lenst hold it until 
 others could. Williamsburoj was a well fought Held, 
 where Hancock leaped to fame, and where none can 
 be rei)roached with want of valor. But the army in 
 front of Hooker was neither captured nor held. The 
 well calculated blow of Johnston was fierce and stun- 
 ning, and his very deliberate retreat was no more 
 interrupted. What most interests us lo-night is the 
 magnanimousgrace with which JoiiNSToisr refers to the 
 officer in command of the troops engaged. "About 
 three o'clock," he says, "I rode upon the field, but 
 found myself compelled to be a mere spectator, for 
 General Longstreet's clear head and brave heart left 
 me no apology for interference.'' 
 
 Meantime McClellan was bending every energy to 
 the active shipment of troops, by water, to the west 
 bank of the Pamunky, opposite West Point. In vain 
 did he seek there the unguarded spot. Just how to 
 strike when blows were exigent, and how to hold up 
 his buckler against surprise ; in one instant to be 
 shield and s^^ear, was Johnston's secret. He had re- 
 tired before overwhelming numbers with the step 
 and gesture of a master. 
 
 It was Johnston's theory of war, that the time 
 for blows to be efficient was not when his enemy was 
 near his base, and he distant from his own ; but under 
 exactly reverse conditions. As early as April 15th, 
 Johnston proposed that McClellan's army should be 
 attacked in front of Richmond by one as numerous, 
 
19 
 
 formed by uniting all the available forces of the Con- 
 federacy in North Carolina, South Carolina, and Geor- 
 gia, with those at Norfolk, on the Peninsula, and then 
 near Richmond. Such an army surprising McClel- 
 lan by an attack, when he was looking to the siege 
 of Richmond, might be expected to defeat him ; and 
 defeat, a hundred miles from his then base of sup- 
 plies, would mean destruction. On the 22d and 27th 
 he reiterates this view. A month later, the new 
 vigor of twenty-five thousand soldiers, drawn from 
 North Carolina and the south, added to the "red 
 right arm " of Jackson, and launched by the genius 
 of Lee, was the thunderbolt to rive asunder McClel- 
 lan's oak. Johnston's plan would have forestalled 
 preparation by the unexpected, before a change of 
 base was feasible. 
 
 Reasons having been presented in opposition to 
 his original plan, Johnston's next design was to en- 
 courage an increasing interval between McClel- 
 lan's troops, as the latter approached the Chicka- 
 hominy, and, when he was fairly astride the little 
 river, to attack him. He must do this before Mc 
 Dowell, moving southward from Fredericksburg, 
 could swell the tide of battle against Richmond. 
 On the morning of May 30th, reconnoissances showed 
 that one entire corps, and a part, if not the whole of 
 another, were on the south side of the rivei-. In point 
 of fact, the corps of Heintzelman and Keyes were 
 across— the latter in advance. Heintzelman was at 
 White Oak and Bottom's bridges, with the nearest 
 support to him some six miles distant, on the op- 
 posite side of the stream. The Chickahominy ran 
 between the two wings of the army. Johnston now 
 
20 # 
 
 saw his opxiortunity, and to see it was to seize it. A 
 violent rain storna, which fell soon after, swelling the 
 stream, and [)erhaps making it impassable, convinced 
 him that the hoped for hour had struck. His orders 
 were at once given. Written orders were dispatched 
 to Hill, Hugvr, and G. W. Smith, and in writing 
 acknowledged. Longstreet being near headquarters 
 received his orders verbally. G. W. Smith was to 
 take 2)ositiou on the left, to support the attack which 
 the other divisions were to make upon the right. All 
 were to move at daybreak. 
 
 Seven Pines, which was to be the chief scene of 
 encounter, is at the junction of the Nine Mile and 
 Williamsburg roads. Casey's redoubt was a half 
 mile nearer to Richmond. His division and artillery 
 formed the first line to be attacked, the left resting 
 upon White Oak Swamp, the right extending across 
 the York River Railroad. White Oak Swamp, 
 the Williamsburg road, and the railroad are nearly 
 parallel. Joii>s^STO]sr expected the blow by his own 
 right to be delivered before 8 A, M., and was confi- 
 dent, that the effect of it would be a complete vic- 
 tory, on the south side of the swollen Chickahominy. 
 This opinion is fully shared by General Keyes, and 
 published by him in his "Fifty Years' Observations." 
 
 Wherever the responsibility may be lodged for 
 the failure to attack, not only at 8 A. M., but 
 even as early as noon, the defect was not in Jomsr- 
 sroN's orders and timely preparations. For some 
 reason never sufficiently explained, and still matter 
 of controversy, the attack on the right did not be- 
 gin until '2 o'clock in the afternoon. But even 
 after the delay of all these hours, the rush of 
 
21 
 
 Hill and Longstreet had stormed and earned the 
 entrenohn,ents opposed to them, with the camp 
 eqnipments, ordnance and stores belonging to the 
 troops assailed, driving Casey in ntter ronte back 
 upori Couch, and Couch npon Heintzleman, when 
 their onward movement was stopped by he lall- 
 inK nioht Johnston had stationed himself on the 
 left to^'take part in the co-operating movement,- 
 where the force in front ot Smith had been rescned 
 from defeat by Sumner's opportune arrival-and 
 had inst ordered each regiment to sleep where it 
 fought, to be ready to renew the battle at dawn, 
 when he received a musliet shot in the shoulder 
 and a moment after was unhorsed by a fragment o 
 shell which struck him in the breast. The reins of 
 his steed and of his victory fell from his hands. The 
 brightness of his sword shone for an instant, and 
 then the darkness swallowed it. The sharpness of 
 it slept when the night became its sheath A hero 
 was borne upon his shield fallen bnt undismayed. 
 Beneath the smitten breast there lived a heart un- 
 
 smitten. 
 
 When Johnston was stricken down at Seven Pines, 
 he left an army, which had been animated by him 
 to a new consciousness of valor; the Army ot \ ir- 
 ginia, whose organization was the work of his hand. 
 Doubtless, one object of the blow was acconiphshed 
 in the check to McClellan's advance on the south 
 side of the swamp. Nevertheless, as the strategy n, 
 the valley and the leap to Manassas was the shining 
 image of the boldness and caution so happily mixed 
 in bin.- so Seven Pines might be construed to be the 
 malignant prophecy of that dark fate, which seemed 
 
09 
 
 thereafter to rise in mutiny against him, and be the 
 incessant wound of victory. Rarely has the counten- 
 ance of fate worn a look and spoken from a lip so 
 cynical, as in that chapter, wherein as it were, war's 
 master was made his victim, his own edge turned 
 against hini. It was the superlative satire of events. 
 Johnston's eminence was tried in the most liery 
 furnace in which such energies could be constrained 
 to walk. The field of victory spread before him to 
 be organized was. with recurring bitterness, snatched 
 from him on the day the prizes were bestowed, v^e 
 feel as if we were witnessing less the encounter of 
 man with human circumstance, than the suijernatural 
 warfare of aTitanwiiose light is with the skies. 
 
 Johnston reported for duty on the 12th of Novem- 
 ber, and on the 24th, received orders of that date, 
 assigning him to the command of'the Department of 
 the West; a geographical department, including the 
 States of Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, and parts 
 of Louisiana, Georgia and North Carolina. Had the 
 i-eality of this command been delivered to Johnston, 
 it would have been the very arena for the employment 
 of his large gifts. The vision which is comj^etent to 
 survey and manage the whole landscape of war, and 
 direct the grand movements and general arrange- 
 ments of campaigns is known as strategy. Of this 
 great faculty Johnston was the master. 
 
 The world's mad game is not played blind fold. 
 The genius of war, like other genius, is not the mere 
 gift of luck, but the consummation of a profound 
 attention to details and all the forces of supremacy. 
 The game, in which the greatest intellects are match 
 ed for the greatest stakes, must be an intellectual 
 
93 
 
 game. The successful general, who succeeds against 
 disproportionate numbers and resources, is not a mili- 
 tary gambler, but the closest of all close calculators. 
 His greatness is that when he does stand upon re- 
 ality he knows it, and is not to be terrified out of it 
 or the daring which it justifies. This is the applica- 
 tion of the great saying of the Roman orator, "A 
 man of courage is also full of faith." Genius has 
 its own way of dealing with the impossible, but it is 
 not a senseless way, nor ever really reckless. 
 
 Johnston went to the West, not to do brilliant 
 things for their own sake, but to win the cause of 
 which he was the soldier. Accustomed as he ever 
 was to ride in the van of danger, his bruises of bat 
 tie shining like stars upon him, he was the man of 
 all otliers to be heeded, when he counselled caution. 
 His whole life was that glorious thing— fair combat 
 through strife to victory. With an unshrinking 
 devotion equal to any task, he proposed to his own 
 courageous intellect that system of the offensive-de- 
 fensive, which once before in the world's annals was 
 the salvation, and the sole salvation, of the bravest 
 and most determined people on its face. The great- 
 est of all warlike races rescued itself from destruc- 
 tion, and the world's future empire from a rival, by 
 slowly learning that victories may be won by avoid- 
 ing no less than by seeking battle ; that a march or 
 manoeuvre at the right time, is more potent than a 
 battle at the wrong time ; that to seize a position 
 which will threaten the adverse army the instant it 
 does move, may far exceed the value of an attack 
 upon it, if it does not ; that the circuit of a large and 
 politic strategy is wider and higher, and makes its 
 
24 
 
 demands upon an intellectual grasp more subtle and 
 more vivid, than the mere rapture of pitched battle. 
 This was the instruction of which Fabius and Mar- 
 cellus were the apt pupils, and Hannibal the school- 
 master. 
 
 It is idle now to s]»eculate as to wliat might have 
 happened, had Johnston been allowed to be the real 
 main sj^ring of movements he was so fitted to direct ; 
 if the substance of his important command had been 
 delivered to him. Fortune opposed him with an 
 iron heart, which no excellence could touch. He 
 opposed fortune with an iron will, which, uncon- 
 quered and undismay<^d, has outlived fortune's worst 
 and triumphed over it. His strife seems to be waged 
 less with visible, than with some inscrutable power, 
 which baffled, but never met him in authentic shape. 
 It is his peculiar fame, that no disappointment and 
 no calamity has been able to deny and to dethrone his 
 real supremacy. All noble strength partakes of the 
 wrestlers agony. The thing which we honor if the 
 unshrinking dedication of thews and sinews by man 
 to his fellows, in the face of the frown of power and 
 in the teeth of temporal scorn. That which makes 
 the brave man, struggling in the storms of fate, a 
 sight for gods and men, is the magnanimity to rise 
 from strain and overthrow, with a rectitude of will 
 untainted and unspent; the ujirightness, which, bows 
 with bended knee before God's footstool, but not with 
 bended neck under man's j^oke, nor subjugated brow 
 under life's oppression. The struggle of fate seemed 
 to be to write the death-warrant of all which to 
 Johnston was most precious ; but the final victory 
 was with Johnston. The moral self which was his 
 
25 
 
 charge to keep, the post of which he was God' s sentry, 
 was never once surprised, never once surrendered. 
 What was then his lonely outpost is to-night his 
 
 citadel. 
 
 The ink was hardly dry upon the special order 
 assigning Johnston to the Department of the West, 
 when he promptly made known the plan of cam- 
 paign which commended itself to him. Inasmuch 
 as the army of the Trans-Mississippi was relatively 
 strong, and the army now proposed to be placed 
 under him was relatively weak, and the latter subject 
 to the further disadvantage of being divided by the 
 Tennessee River, he urged that the united force of 
 both departments be thrown at once on Grant. As 
 the troops in Arkansas and those under Pemberton 
 had the same great object— the defense of the Mis- 
 sissippi Valley— and both opposed to troops having 
 one object -the possession of the Mississippi— the 
 main force of the latter operating on the east side 
 of the river; the more direct and immediate co- 
 operation of the former was the thing advised. He 
 significantly adds, ''As our troops are now distrib- 
 uted. Yicksburg is in danger." He proposed, there- 
 fore, the union of the forces of Holmes and Pemberton; 
 those of Bragg to co-operate if practicable. By the 
 junction he could, as he believed, overwhelm Grant, 
 then between the Tallahatchie and Holly Springs, far 
 from his base— the place for victory. 
 
 No notice having been taken of this plan, and sug- 
 gestions made by him respecting the commands of 
 Bragg and Pemberton, as well as objections inter- 
 posed by him to the diminution of the former force 
 to augment the latter, failing also of approval, 
 
26 
 
 Johnston acquired the feeling that his wide com- 
 mand was little more than nominal. To be answer 
 able for issues without authority to order, or potently 
 advise, is "a barren sceptre" which none can grasp 
 with use or honor. Upon the ground that armies 
 with different objects, like those of Mississippi and 
 Tennessee, were too far apart for mutual dependence, 
 and, therefore, could not be commanded proj^erly by 
 the same general, Johnston asked to have a different 
 command assigned him. Ultimately a special order 
 did so re-assign him. Intermediately he received 
 specific orders directing him where to go. 
 
 It was on the 22d of January, 1863, while he was 
 inspecting the defenses of Mobile, that he was or- 
 dered to go to the headquarters of Bragg, for the 
 purpose of determining whether the latter had so far 
 lost the confidence of his army, as to make it expe- 
 dient to supersede him. If such was found to be the 
 fact, Johnston was to be his successor. It was 
 hardly fair, thus to make a generous mind at once com- 
 petitor and judge; to place him in a position, where 
 his merest word would exalt himself at the expense of 
 the party judged. Johnston threw every doubt in 
 favor of his companion in arms, and advised against 
 Bragg' s removal . His letter to the Confederate Pres- 
 ident upon this subject deserves to be known more 
 widely than it is. "I respectfully suggest,"' he wrote, 
 "that should it then appear to you necessary to re- 
 move General Bragg, none in this army or engaged in 
 this investigation ought to be his successor. ' ' This is 
 the voice of a true knight. It is the retiex of that 
 grace of mind which is ever the noblest ornament to 
 its greatness. When death has silenced him who 
 
27 
 
 wrote, it speaks to the hearts which survive, like a 
 trumpet in the stillness of the night. He had returned 
 to Mobile when, on the 12th of February, he was or- 
 dered to assume charge of the army of middle Tennes- 
 see. At the time the general of that army was bowed 
 and broken by the illness of his wife, supposed to be 
 at the point of death. With a natural chivalry, John- 
 ston postponed the communication 6f the order, re- 
 porting to Richmond the reasons for so doing. Once 
 more an act of noble grace ! These are the acts which 
 write their bright light on the human sky. When the 
 particular crisis had passed, Johnston's own debil- 
 ity was such that he could not assume command, and 
 the order was indefinitely postponed. He had re- . 
 ported for duty all too soon, and too severely taxed 
 the adamant which knew so little how to yield. It 
 was not until the 12th of March that he was able to 
 resume his duties in the field. 
 
 Johnston had inspected Vicksburg during Christ 
 mas week, and even so early had decided, as he 
 shortly afterwards stated to General Maury, that it 
 was a mistake to keep in an intrenched camp so 
 large an army, whose true place was in the 
 field ; that a heavy work should be constructed to 
 command the river just above Vicksburg, " at the 
 turn"— with a year's supply for a good garrison of 
 three thousand men. Until April 14th Pemberton's 
 telegrams indicated an effort against Bragg, in whose 
 vicinity Johnston was, and not against Vicksburg. 
 On the 16th of April the Union fleet passed the bat- 
 teries of Vicksburg. To the mind of Johnston it 
 was clear that, when this could happen, Vicksburg 
 ceased to be of any more importance than any other 
 
28 
 
 place on the river. On the 29th of Ax)ril, and 1st 
 of May, Peniberton annonnced a movement upon 
 Grand (Inlf, with a view to Vicksburg. Jojinston 
 replied on the instant, telling Pemberton to unite 
 all his troops from every quarter for the repulse of 
 (xrant, while the latter was crossing the rivei', and to 
 move at once for the purpose — adding j" success will 
 give you back what was abandoned to win it." On the 
 9th of May a dispatch was received by Johnston, at 
 Tullahoma, in Middle Tennessee, directing him to 
 "proceed at once to Mississippi to take chief command 
 of the forces there." He replied, "I shall go im- 
 mediately, although unfit for field service." From 
 the shell which had unhorsed him at Seven Pines, 
 he had not yet so far rallied as to be able to ride 
 into the field. But the orders he forthwith gave re- 
 flect the warrior grasp Avhicli nothing could relax. 
 Three things Avere clear to Johnston ; first, that the 
 time to attack was when the enemy was divided in 
 the passage of the river ; second, that the invading 
 army must be defeated in the field, and that Vicks- 
 burg must fall if besieged ; third, that Vicksburg 
 ceased to be of exceptional importance, after the 
 junction of the upper and lower fleet. In coincidence 
 with these views, were his orders to the officer in 
 command at Vicksburg; to leave the intrenchments 
 there, and unite with himself in an attack upon the 
 separate detachments of the opposing force ; but in 
 any event, to evacuate Vicksburg and its dependen- 
 cies, and save the army which could not escape if 
 Vicksburg w-ere besieged. 
 
 When, from a failure to execute these instructions, 
 Sherman, on the 13th of May, was able to interpose 
 
29 
 
 four divisions at Clinton, on the Southern Railroad, 
 Joii^^STOX, then hurrying forward with his little 
 army at once ordered Pemberton to come up, with 
 uli the strength he could assemble, in Sherman s 
 rear, promising his own co-operation. Clinton was 
 seventeen miles east of Pemberton. As is wellknown 
 and, doubtless, because of the importance ascribed 
 to Yicksburg, Pemberton moved south, instead ot 
 east, with a part only of his force, and out of reach 
 of the little band, waiting to participate at Clinton^ 
 He marched to the disasters of Champion Hill and 
 Baker's Creek. On being so informed, m terms 
 which admitted of no mistake, Johnston ordered 
 the immediate evacuation of Vicksburg and Port 
 Hudson. 
 
 It is not desirable to discuss the considerations, 
 which caused a sincerely patriotic soldier to so devi- 
 ate from these orders, as to invert and, in effect, to an- 
 nul them Johnston's orders meant to him as he 
 states, "the fall of Port Hudson, the surrender ot the 
 Mississippi River, and the severance of the Confeder- 
 acy " Saving that it was already severed, this was 
 true If however, instead of deviation, there had 
 been execution, whether or not it would have made 
 the difference between the disaster which was sus- 
 tained by Pemberton at Baker's Creek, and victory 
 at Clinton, it would certainly have made the differ- 
 ence between an army captured in Vicksburg and an 
 unconquered one outside of it. The investment of 
 Vicksburg was completed of the 19th, and its surren- 
 der was then but a matter of time. Mr. A. H. Stephens 
 states, that on the 23d of June, he was informed at 
 the War Department, that the surrender of A icks- 
 
30 
 
 burg was inevitable. If the besieged could not escape 
 the besieger at the beginning of the siege, still less at 
 the end ; if the force within did not possess the power 
 to unite with the force without before the siege began, 
 how much less could it expect to effect such junction 
 lifter fort}^ days and forty nights of exhaustion were 
 added to iP. If the stronger force within the citadel 
 could not cut its Avay out, how much less could the 
 weaker force without be expected to cut its way in? 
 At the time Johnstox had but two brigades. The 
 race of collecting troops, wherewith to relieve the be- 
 sieged, was run against those who could f^asily out- 
 strip him. After five weeks of indefatigable exer- 
 tion, he could only say, on the 20tli of June, "when 
 all reinforcements arrive, I shall have about 23,000." 
 A twice beaten army, enclosed in Yicksburg, could 
 not be saved by one not equal in strength to a third 
 of the covering force. To have attempted it, against 
 strong circumvallations, would have been to com- 
 plete the capture of the army within, by the wanton 
 massacre of the army without — to Hing a second 
 catastrophe after the first. The fate of Vicksburg 
 and Port Hudson was sealed, unless an army strong- 
 enough to carry Grant's intrenchments could be 
 brought to the assault. 
 
 "He should have struck a blow," it is said. To 
 strike a blow unwisely is one of the simi)lest of human 
 actions. It is done daily with the smallest possible 
 profit to mankind. It will ever be a narrow cockpit 
 in which the tactics of Donnybrook Fair score their 
 success. The shout of victory or death is irrele- 
 vant where death alone is possible. It is not even 
 to court the hazard of a die to rush to sure de- 
 
81 
 
 struction. Should the general then set his cause 
 upon the cast, and rush into the battle merely to 
 die there ? The rush of despair proclaims as much 
 fear as courage. Johnston was right. The place to 
 defend Vicksburg was in the field. As a beleaguered 
 city its defense was hopeless. Isolation was destruc- 
 tion. Vicksburg ceased to be of value, when its bluffs 
 could no longer close navigation to a hostile force, 
 nor keep it open to a friendly one. The array within 
 was invaluable, and could not be replaced. To im- 
 mure was to sacrifice. To shut in strength was to 
 shut out strength. In the great game of danger, he 
 wins the day who really risks the least, however he 
 may seem to hazard all. Courage and skill are shown 
 in disregarding the imminent ajipearance, in the con- 
 fidence of victory seen through the deadly imminence. 
 But when to the unblenchingeye of war's leader the 
 peril is the only reality, and the victory beyond is 
 the illusion, it is fatuity to strike. The perilous 
 movement is victorious only when it places an ad 
 versary at a real disadvantage. Instead of a concen- 
 tration of the weaker army, as ordered by Johnston, 
 so as to be able to fall upon the stronger one in de- 
 tail; by the deviations from his orders, the weaker 
 army was so distributed as to be taken in detail by 
 the concentrated stronger one. 
 
 There are times in life's experience, when the winds 
 of fortune seem to sport with human actions ; when 
 those we would unite with frustrate us, to their own 
 cost, and by their sacrifice ; times when it would 
 look, as if some sardonic deity had been unbound to 
 baffle calculation ; to poison the springs of action ; 
 to shake from their centre faith and duty; to per- 
 
82 
 
 plex reason and conscience ; and to thedeatli-call of 
 a true endeavor be the mocking Mephistopheles. 
 
 Something akin to this must have been i)resent to 
 Johnston, when he saw the strength of the West 
 hewed in two, by movements which seemed to solicit 
 the fortified line of the enemy to enter, like a wedge 
 of steel, between Vicksburg and his own exterior 
 force; when he saw the relatively strong force retire 
 behind works because of inability to meet the enemy 
 in the open field, and then from their walls call ui)on 
 the relatively weak force to storm that same enemy 
 in his fortifications. In such catastrophe, all that 
 man can do is to oppose duty to dejection; make clear 
 the record of responsibility, and follow with unfalter- 
 ing step the light left in the sky. This done, the re- 
 sult is with the great Captain of events, who makes 
 and unmakes life and its aims. It was the destiny 
 of Johnston to be the unhearkened Cassandra of his 
 time, the sageness of whose counsel history will 
 measure, by the fatality of not receiving it. 
 
 It is marvelous, that after such a calamity as that 
 at Vicksburg, the small army which had been gath- 
 ered by Johnston, was XJWi'sued by no worse disas- 
 ter. While Vicksburg and Port Hudson stood, and 
 there was hope that either might be succored, Jack- 
 son was essential to the mana?uvering army — the 
 key to the position. When they fell, the military 
 value of Jackson ended. Nevertheless, Johnston 
 drew up in front of it, inviting an assault, and only 
 when his adversary showed he again intended to re- 
 sort to the sure course of investment, did he with- 
 draw. I believe there is no dispute that Johnston's 
 management here was one of signal ability. One of 
 
33 
 
 his officers, who in the later history of the war took 
 sides with Hood, in speaking of Johnston"'r mas- 
 terly management, at this point, added this com- 
 mentary — ''I may say, I never saw Johnston do 
 anything which did not seem to me better done than 
 anyone else could do it. My only criticism is that 
 tliere was not more of it." The faculty to do what- 
 ever is done better than anyone else can do it is one 
 which is never redundant, and, therefore, one which 
 a community struggling, in the death grips, for exist- 
 ence, can ill-afford to part with, and invitq to do 
 nothing. 
 
 During the remainder of the year the operations 
 of the Union army in Mississippi were limited to 
 jDredatory expeditions. Nothing was captured which 
 was in Johnston's custody; nothing defeated which 
 he led. 
 
 During this summer Johnston received a letter 
 from the Confederate President, criticising his con- 
 duct and conclusions, in terms, which were hardly 
 those to win a hero's assent. To this Johnston 
 replied with that invincible clearness of which, as 
 of the art of war, he was the master. There would 
 seem to be ground for the dilemma, afterwards inter- 
 posed by Johnston, that, if the criticisms of him 
 were deserved, the further retention of him in com- 
 mand was indefensible. And his services were to be 
 retained! Unhappily thereafter upon terms of mu- 
 tual distrust between him and the authority to which 
 he reported. 
 
'64 
 
 It was on the 18tli of December, 1803, that John- 
 ston was ordered to assume command of the Army 
 of Tennessee. The instructions which awaited him 
 at Dalton advised him, that he would probably find 
 the army there disheartened by late events, and de- 
 prived of ordnance and materials; that it was hoped 
 his presence would do much to re-establish hope, 
 restore discipline, and inspire confidence. 
 
 Johnston succeeded to Bragg upon an unenviable 
 throne. Whether justly or unjustly, the experiences 
 of the preceding year had alienated the allegiance 
 without which it was incoherent and discredited. The 
 battle of Missionary Ridge was the greatest disaster 
 sustained by the Confederate arms in pitched battle 
 during the Avhole war. Nearly one- half the guns, 
 caissons and munitions of the defeated army had 
 been abandoned. Dalton had not been selected be- 
 cause of its defensive strength, but simply because 
 the retreat from Missionary Ridge had ceased at that 
 point. Johnston was sent to repair disaster. The 
 army he now commanded was the same which, under 
 Bragg, had been routed at Missionary Ridge. Sher- 
 man's army was the one which had routed it. The 
 defeated army had been depleted since the battle. 
 The successful one had been augmented. Johnston 
 so reorganized and reassured his dispirited force, 
 that, when the campaign opened in the spring, the 
 poorest regiment he had was superior in effective- 
 ness and drill to the best when he took command. 
 The change was swift and permanent. Thenceforth, 
 no army in the Confederacy excelled, if any equaled 
 it, in drill and discipline. The whole army felt that 
 a lofty gentleman was in command, animated by a 
 
35 
 
 noble and pervading justice, wliicli no favor could 
 bias and no incompetence mislead. The genius for 
 rapid organization could not be more splendidly 
 evinced. Wherever his hand was laid, a life of dis- 
 cipline sprang up. It was the same organizing skill 
 which had laid the foundation of the army of the 
 East. It" was a wonderful personal influence and 
 mastery, which thus drew to him an army acquainted 
 chiefly with disaster. If nothing else existed to re- 
 flect his excellence, the miracle which he wrought in 
 this transformation, from complete rout to complete 
 confidence, from fatal chaos and dismemberment in 
 to compact order, would, of itself, preserve for us 
 the image of great mind's authority and magnetism. 
 As JoHNSTO]s^ looked upon this work of his creative 
 week, he saw that it was good. 
 
 When on the 6th of May, 1864, the duel between 
 the two armies began, two things must be borne in 
 mind: first, that on the preceding fourth of July, 
 one-third of the strength of the Confederacy had 
 fallen, in the east and in the west, at Gettysburg and 
 Vicksburg; second, that when the policy of wearing 
 out by attrition was inauguarated, it was desirable for 
 the weaker party to be economical of wear and tear. 
 The time had surely come when the Confederacy could 
 not be prodigal of life; when it should take no step 
 which was not calculated with disciplined precaution. 
 It must make no mistake. The man for this su- 
 preme emergency was then at Dalton — a man with 
 that great attribute of a leader in convulsion, the 
 cax')acity to see things as they are. As with a 
 merchant, so with a general, his first business is to 
 know when to spend and when to spare. Johnston 
 
86 
 
 took into consideration the natural featnres of tlie 
 country in front: the susceptibility for defense, nat- 
 ural and artificial ; the importance of time without 
 disaster to his own side ; t ht; slight ivsult of inconclu- 
 sive defeat to his oppouent. Only brilliant success 
 could now be compensation for serious loss. All 
 these were realties which he was not permitted to 
 forget. He was now where previous adversity might 
 be the background for the revelation of his skill — 
 if only he was trusted I Even the Divine Hero did 
 not do his mighty work where faith was wanting. 
 
 The chief criticism of Johxston's conduct of this 
 campaign rests on his failure to attack Sherman at 
 Kocky Face, three miles north of Dalton, when 
 McPherson was detached to intercept Johnston's 
 communications, by the movement through Snake 
 Creek Gap. I believe no intelligent criticism ini- 
 ]>utes blame to him for a failure to attack at any 
 other point. The disposition of the Confederate 
 army about Dalton had been made in the hope that 
 Sherman would attack with his whole force. There- 
 fore, JoirxsTOx's entire strength was concentrated 
 there. For the moment his communications were 
 unprotected. A mountain divided the opposing 
 forces. The difficulty of the passes was as great to 
 one side as the other. In these conditions to change 
 from the defensive and yield the advantages of 
 ground was a certain risk. On May 1st, the effec- 
 tive strength of Johnston's army, infantry, artil 
 lery, and cavalry was 42,8r)6. On April 10th, 1864, 
 Sherman vepoYted as /nesenl /'or d/Up 180,000 men. 
 Out of til is for(^e he proposed to form a compact 
 army of exactly 100,000 men, for the purpose of his 
 
87 
 
 advance. The number above given is to be distin- 
 guished from the nnmbei; borne on his rolls, which 
 amounted to upwards of 840,000 men. Supposing 
 the utmost, a victory by Johnston over the 100,000 
 picked men, Sherman had behind him the fortified 
 gap at Ringgold, and behind that the fortress of 
 Chattanooga. Nevertheless, a division of his adver- 
 sary's force — that moment of division, which is al 
 ways the moment of weakness — was just the moment 
 which Johnston was wont to seize, and he was about 
 to seize this, when his recoiinoissances assured him 
 that it was the bulk of Sherman's army, which, cov- 
 ered from exposure by the curtain of Rocky Face, 
 was marching towards Resaca by Snake Creek Ga^^ 
 and could, without serious resistance, cut his con- 
 nections while he was engaged by the force in front. 
 It was the intirmity of Johnston that he would not 
 incur great risk without reconnoissance. He would 
 not leap) in the dark. He had the gift, as it proved 
 to him, the fatal gift, of always knowing what he 
 was about. Unless he at once intercepted Sherman 
 the ruin to him was certain. Months afterwards one 
 of his officers ventured to ask why he did not attack 
 at Rocky Face. The sententious reply was, "Napo- 
 leon once said, the General who suffers his commu- 
 nications to be cut deserves to be shot." 
 
 He should have fought, his critics say, "as Lee 
 and Jackson fought at Chancellorsville; he should 
 have thrown everything on the hazard of a die; com- 
 plete victory in front would have been followed by 
 the rout of the force in the rear." Such critics 
 forget that the victorious army at Chancellorsville- 
 was not one which, after complete defeat at Fred- 
 
38 
 
 ericksburji^, had been delivered to a new commander, 
 with a friendly caution, as to the probable eflfect of 
 such late tragedy npon spirit and oi'ganization. 
 Chancel lorsville had been prepared by all the host 
 of victories which fought for it like another army. 
 That army was one which believed defeat to be im- 
 possible. The army at Dalton had never known what 
 real victory meant. It was of incalculable import- 
 ance, that the engagement of the latter army, under 
 their new leader, should be sharply discriminated 
 from all which had preceded it. In mere bravery the 
 past could not be exceeded. It was the wise discern- 
 ing stroke of the new regime which it was essential 
 to infallibly impart. 
 
 Under any military conditions, one might ask, is 
 it wholly reasonable to exact, as a matter of strict 
 military right, that a general, on taking command 
 of an army, shall at once, without more words, be- 
 come a Robert E. Lee, or Stonewall Jackson, at the 
 highest i:)inacle of their earthly achievement? One 
 might conclude, from the inclination expressed by 
 some, to inaugurate the triumphs of Lee and Jackson, 
 at the portal of the Georgia campaign, that such in- 
 auguration was a matter of election and pure prefer- 
 ence by ambitious minds; that one, whose heart was 
 in the right place, might make a habit of the miltary 
 marvel of the war. Alas ! the rarest and most for- 
 tunate displays of greatness, Chancellorsvilles and 
 Centrevilles are not creatures of suffrage; and all 
 who go forward on such disastrous hypothesis, in 
 Georgia campaigns and elsewhere, are destined to 
 discover, that desire, aspiration even, is not synony 
 mous with faculty. 
 
39 
 
 It was ill this same month, after the terrible re- 
 pulse of Spottsylvania Court House, that Grant made 
 a flank movement to the North Anna, not unlike 
 that of Sherman to Resaca. The object of Grant 
 was by a detour eastward, around the point where 
 the Richmond and Fredericksburg Railroad crosses 
 the North Anna, to cut Lee's communications. Did 
 Lee strike the force left behind? No; nor did he 
 attempt to strike the force sent forward before rein- 
 forcements could arrive ; but, by the most expedi- 
 tious interior line, he moved his own army to Han- 
 over Junction, where Hancock met it. Here the two 
 parts of the Army of the Potomac were not only sep- 
 arated, but a river so ran between them that, to get 
 from one of Grant's wings to the other, that river 
 would have to be crossed twice. On the other hand, 
 Lee had concentrated his army between the Little 
 river and the North Anna, not only in a strong posi- 
 tion, but so sitcated that it could easily act in 
 unity, and concentrate upon either of the opposing 
 wings. Some say Lee should have left a small part 
 of his force to hold the intrenchments of his left, 
 and attacked Hancock with the rest of his army. 
 
 Hancock's force did not exceed 24,000 infantry. 
 Leaving 7,000 to hold the west face of his intrench- 
 ments, and the apex on the river, Lee might have 
 attacked Hancock with possibly 36,000 infantry. 
 But, as an able officer suggests,'- Hancock was in- 
 trenched, and Lee well knew the advantage that gave, 
 and that he could not afford to suffer the inevita- 
 ble loss. Those who would make the Atlanta cam- 
 paign exactly like Chancellorsville should remem- 
 
 *Gen. A. A. Humphreys. 
 
40 
 
 ber that, fiom the last day's light at the Wilderness 
 to Appomattox, Lee attacked no more ; that from 
 this time on Lee fought only behind intreiichments ; 
 that what could be done by in 18J18. could not neces- 
 sarily he done in 1864. 
 
 The whole criticism of Johnston strangely for- 
 gets, that the victorious results at Second Manassas 
 and Chancellorsville were the consequences of Jack- 
 son's spring upon the. rear of Pope and Hooker; and 
 not because Jackson suffered himself to be in their 
 predicament. The question presented to Johnston 
 at Rocky Face was, not whether he would do like 
 Stonewall Jackson, but whether he would deliber- 
 ately do like the generals whom Stonewall Jackson 
 defeated. 
 
 Every man in authority is the shepherd of a trust; 
 but what so sacred as the general's — lives that will 
 step to death at his bidding. Of all fiduciaries none 
 has such account to render as he who is commissioned 
 to wage the fight of a people. Human life is the 
 talent laid in his hand, to be poured out like water, 
 if unto him it seemeth good. Of all trusts and tal- 
 ents this is the one to be wisely used, and in no wise 
 abused. The policy of Johnston was not the step 
 forward which would slide three steps back, but the 
 step back which would find the strength to stride 
 trebly forward. It was the drawing back of the 
 ram's foot to strike with the horns. 
 
 The movement from Dalton began on the 12th of 
 May. Polk's advance under Loring, and Polk him- 
 self, reached Resaca from Deraopolis, Alabama, on 
 the same day. French's division of the same army 
 joined near Kingston several days later, and Quarles' 
 
41 
 
 brigade at New Hope Church on the 26th. One may 
 be permitted to believe that Johnston incurred as 
 large risk, as could be exacted of a soldier and a 
 patriot, when he left the whole protection of his 
 rear to the expected arrival of this much hurried 
 reinforcement. The position taken at Resaca to 
 meet the movement through Snake Creek Gap was 
 made untenable, in consequence of a similar move- 
 ment by Sherman towards Calhoun— the last move- 
 ment being covered by a river, as the former was b}^ 
 a mountain. But the ground in the neighborhood 
 of Cassvilie seemed to Johnston favorable for at- 
 tack, and as there were two roads leading southward 
 to it, the probability was that Sherman would divide 
 — a column following each road — and give Johnston 
 his opportunity to defeat one column before it could re- 
 ceive aid from the other. He gave his orders accord- 
 ingly for battle on the 19th of May. The order an- 
 nouncing that battle was about to be delivered had 
 been read to each regiment and received with exulta- 
 tion. The Roman signal — the general's purple man- 
 tle lifted in front of the general's tent — may be said 
 to have been given. • But General Hood, owing to 
 information received from one of his staff, deemed 
 himself justified in not executing the order to him- 
 self ; and the intended attack was for this cause, 
 abandoned. General W. W. Mackall was sent to 
 Hood to ask why he did not attack as ordered. 
 Hood sent word in reply, that the enemy was then 
 advancing upon him by two roads, and he could 
 only defend. Johnston then drew up his army, on 
 a ridge immediately south of Cassvilie, to receive 
 the attack of the now united columns; but the 
 
f 
 
 conviction of both Polk and Hood of their inability 
 to hold their positions against attack caused John- 
 STOx to yield his own. He did this upon the ground 
 that he could not make the tight, when two of the 
 three corps commanders of his army were opposed to it. 
 Hood said that, in the position in which he then was, 
 he was willing to attack, but not willing to defend. 
 Joiii^SToy's view was, that the time to attack was 
 when his enemy was divided, and the time to draw 
 together and defend was when his enemy was united. 
 But unless we are to reason, that when Johnston 
 was unwilling to fight, and some of his generals will - 
 ing, Johnston must be wrong ; and when Johnston 
 was willing to light, and his generals unwilling, the 
 latter must be right ; it is hard to see why he should 
 be blamed for Rocky Face, and they uncriticised for 
 Cassville. Assuredly in both instances the hesita- 
 tion was the honest doubt of courageous men. 
 Again, at New Hope Church, after Sherman's deter 
 mined but vain assault, Johnston made his own dis- 
 positions to attack. Hood was to assail Sherman's 
 left, at dawn, on the 29th of May, and Polk and 
 Hardee to join in the battle successively. At 10 a m. 
 Hood reported that he found the enemy entrenched 
 and deemeditinexpedienttoattack, without fresh in- 
 structions. The opportunity had passed. The prop 
 osition had originally come from Hood, and received 
 the sanction of Johnston. Hood says the opportu- 
 nity had passed, not because his views had changed, 
 but because the situation of the enemy had changed. 
 Doubtless this was so. And might not the com- 
 mander in-chief of that army be permitted to assign 
 the identical reason for his own change of plan at 
 Rocky Face ? 
 
43 
 
 At New Hope Church, at Kennesaw Mountain, all 
 that fierce attack could do was tried and found want- 
 ing. As the attack was resolute, so the repulse was 
 bitter. If there was no such repulse, as at Fred- 
 ericksburg, Spottsylvania and Cold Harbor, it must 
 have been owing to the fact that there was no such 
 attack — persistent as Sherman's undoubtedly were. 
 In JoH]N"STO]sr's view, between Dalton and the Chatta- 
 hoochie, the 19th and 29th of May, offered the only 
 opportunities to give battle, without attacking the 
 preponderant force in entrenchments. But Cassville 
 he considered his greatest opportunity. 
 
 From Resaca to Atlanta might be called a siege in 
 open held — daily approaches and resistances, daily 
 battle, so received, as to make the losses to the assail- 
 ant more than treble those of the defensive forces. 
 Sherman's progress was at the aate of a mile and a 
 quarter a day. Every day was a warlike exercise. 
 In the warfare of attrition, at this rate of prog- 
 ress, battle could ere long be given upon equal terms. 
 The advancing army found, in the wake of that re- 
 treat, no deserters, no stragglers, no muskets, no ma- 
 terial of war. Retreat resembles victory when it is 
 the assailant who is chiefly worn by the advantageo-us 
 battle of each day. Think for an instant of this 
 single achievement, that in all the difficulty of the 
 time, in the imminent breach of daily battle, John- 
 ston's troops did not miss a meal from Dalton to 
 Atlanta; that the primitive prayer: "Give us this 
 day our daily bread," was punctually answered out 
 of the smoke and roar of unremitting war — that too 
 when not only the nutrition of life but the nutrition 
 of death was scant; when he had to be parsimonious 
 
44 
 
 of ammunition in Ids skirmishes, in order to be sure 
 of it for his general engagements. He swung his 
 armj' ni)on its hinges \\ itli the smoothness of well- 
 oiled machinery, whii-h no more swerved from its 
 appointed course, than do the forces of nature, be 
 cause a campaign of death reigns all around. We 
 seem to touch the pulse of destiny itself, as we ac- 
 company that regular throb of recoil and repulse, 
 and that still flexure of sockets about a pinion of 
 resolve that knew no turning. 
 
 Johnston felt himself daily growing stronger 
 against an adversary daily growing weaker. Tire 
 less in his vigilant activity, clear in his purpose, 
 every tactical, every strategic advantage was hourly 
 on his side. No jeopardy stole u])on him unawares. 
 With a deadly precision, he divined and repelled 
 every adverse stroke. He handled his army as a 
 man would the lingers of his own hand. As link by 
 link he unwound his resource as of magic, and his 
 determination as of steel, it was like the movement 
 of the hand of time on the face of a clock — so im- 
 ])erturbable, so infallible, so inflexible, the external 
 calm, the unhasting certainty. It was as if one 
 fate had been found to confound another. The weak 
 place in the joinings of his mail was nowhere found. 
 Every blow had rebounded from him, or was parried 
 by him. Every material prei)onderance had been 
 lebnked by a general's intuition and a hero's sword. 
 We can almost see the lion-like glare of his war-like 
 eye, and the menacing lash of his agile movement, 
 as rampart by rampart he retired, his relative force 
 rising with each withdrawal, and his united living 
 wall making his earthen wall invincible. 
 
45 
 
 Missionary Ridge had made this Johnston's mis- 
 sion — to draw his adversary from his base and 
 therebj^ compel the reduction of the force in front, 
 by the regular growth of that required to guard the 
 rear of each remove; to move back with such assured 
 precaution, as never once to be surprised, nor i^laced 
 at disadvantage; to skilfully dispute each foot of 
 ground, with the least exjjenditure of his own 
 forces; to thus more and more reduce the dispar- 
 ity existing; and warily biding his time to beckon 
 his adversary forward, until the field of his own 
 choice was made the final arbiter between them. 
 And now the justifying proportions and the coigue 
 of vantage had been won. All that executive fore- 
 sight could do had been achieved. Here he would 
 meet his foe, face to face, on ground which would 
 equalize numerical odds. At Daltoii, Johnston 
 was a hundred miles from his base. At Atlanta it 
 was Sherman who was so separated. The fortresses 
 which, at Dalton, Sherman had in Ringgold and 
 Chattanooga, Johnston now had in Atlanta — a 
 place too strong to be taken by assault and too ex- 
 tensive to be invested. To this end Atlanta had 
 been fortified and Johnston had manoeuvred. 
 
 Now he would lay down the buckler and part the 
 sword from its sheath. Now he would constrain 
 fortune. Noav, by his perfect sinews, he would ^fl^st 
 the battle wreath, which the cunning fiend had so 
 long withheld by sinister touches on his thigh. 
 
 From Dalton to Atlanta, Sherman, by force of 
 numbers, had been able to follow every retreat of 
 the Confederate forces developed in their front, and 
 then, with one or two corps, which he could afford to 
 
46 
 
 spare, make a tiarik movement imperiling their posi- 
 tion. Three railroads then supplied Atlanta. To 
 take Atlanta, it would be necessary to take all three. 
 On the 17th of July, Juhnston had planned to attack 
 Sherman, as the latter crossed Peach Tree Creek, ex- 
 pecting just such a division between his wings as Sher- 
 man actually made. He had occasion to say this, and 
 did say it, more than once, to his Inspector (reneral, 
 Col. llarvie. To thus successively engage the frac- 
 tions of the hostile army with the bulk of his own 
 had been the ])urpose of his ever^^ movement. Suc- 
 cess here would be decisive, he thought, by driving 
 the defeated army against the Chattahoochie, where 
 there were no fords, or to the east away from their 
 communications. On the precipitous banks of the 
 Peach Tree, the Confederate Army awaited the liour 
 of battle. The superb strategy of their commander, 
 and the superlative excellence of the position he had 
 chosen, stood revealed. Joiixstox himself, with his 
 chief of engineers, Col. Prestman, and his chief of 
 staff. General W. W. Mackall, was seated at a table 
 examining the ground upon the map, and maturing 
 the plan of battle, when the order was delivered, 
 relieving him from command. 
 
 The goal had been reached, the victory organized; 
 to his own vision the foe delivered into his hand 
 when he was again struck down; but this time, not 
 by a blow in the breast, which at Atlanta, as at Seven 
 Pines, was turned to the enemy. With a command- 
 ing grace in word and act, on tlie 17th of July he 
 relinquished his command of the army, for which he 
 had wrought so wisely and so well, and turned it 
 over, with his plan of battle, to his successor, on that 
 day appointed. 
 
47 
 
 I deem it just to give verbatim the instructions ol" 
 JoHNSTOiNr to his strong, stanch hero. Gen. A. P. 
 Stewart. "Find," said. .joiiisrsTON to him, "the 
 best position, on our side of Peach Tree Creek, for 
 our arm}' to occupy. Do not intrench. Find all 
 the good artillery positions, and. have them cleared 
 of timber." He said that he exx)ected Sherman would, 
 cross the Chattahoochie by the fords above the 
 mouth of Peach Tree Creek, and advance across the 
 creek upon Atlanta. He added that Governor Brown 
 of Georgia had promised, to furnish him fifteen 
 thousand State militia with which to hold Atlanta, 
 while he operated with his army in the field. He 
 did not say that he would attack Sherman on the 
 crossing of Peach Tree, "but," says Stewart, "his 
 dispositions were evidently made with a view to so at- 
 tack, and were inconsistent with any other purpose." 
 That evening Stewart rode to Johnston's head- 
 quarters to report that he had made the dispositions 
 according to direction. He was met by Johnston 
 with the order for the latter' s removal. Stewart has 
 since said: "I would cheerfully have suffered the 
 loss of either of my own arms to have been able to 
 retain Johnston in command." There could have 
 been no purer ransom for his general's sentence than 
 one of those stout arms. It was said by General 
 Carter Stevenson, that he had never seen any troops 
 in such tine discipline and condition as John- 
 ston's army on the day he was removed from 
 command. Constancy, stanchness, erectness, gov- 
 erned by a true discernment, are the attributes 
 that conquer men and events. All these attributes 
 were with Johnston's army the day he was re- 
 
48 
 
 niovprl. I]| tliey recked who changed that stead- 
 fast camp for the meteor flash of mutability. 
 The authorities who made this change would rathei- 
 have been dismembered, limb from limb, than know- 
 ingly to have done aught injurious to their cause. 
 The motives for their action could be honest only, 
 and were urged by pressure from without, which I 
 doubt not was sincere. But to Johnston, and as I be 
 lieve to history, it was as if tlie soldier, in his tent, 
 had been stabbed by his own guard. 
 
 With wounds to the body, Johnstox was famil- 
 iar; but a wounded spirit who can bear ? How did 
 he receive this by far his severest wound ? What 
 was the fashion of the metal which emerged from 
 this searching crucible i Did the equanimity which 
 stood by him in every other turn of fortune desert 
 him now ^ No, this did not desert him. His own 
 unquailing spirit was faithful to him. If in the 
 soldier's greatcampaign '' no unproi)ortioned thought 
 took shape in act,'' so now, in his unwished fur- 
 lough, none took shape in word. It is one of the 
 prerogatives of greatness to know how not to be the 
 sport of circumstance. Misfortune broke over him 
 in vain. He broke misfortune by being unbroken 
 by it. He was master of misfortune. The adversity, 
 which does not shake the mind, itself is shaken. 
 Nothing could be finer than JoirivsTox's demeanor 
 in this, his unlooked for, and, to liim, unjust over- 
 throw. Nothing froward, nothing unseemly shone 
 in him or fell from him. He was one whom the ex- 
 ternal universe might break, but could not bend to 
 an ignoble use. His tall branch stood, like the sap 
 of Lebanon, rooted in the real. There it stands to- 
 
49 
 
 day, and will to-morrow. The forest of appearance, 
 that has no root, falls to swift decay around it. 
 
 I bestow no particular praisw on- one for following- 
 conviction, albeit without the place proportioned to 
 desert. A mercenary hero is a solecism. No one 
 wins eminence by disregard of selfish interest in an 
 army where it is universal. Virtue is tried by finer 
 measures in that history. No corrui)t, no venal 
 thing survives to tarnisli it. But of all adversity, 
 there could be none more exquisitely fitted to freeze 
 a noble heart, than that which befel the General of 
 the West. How much easier to bear the most cruel 
 blow of adversctries, when on either side are sustain- 
 ing arms; when the strength of sympathy invests 
 the overthrown with a dignity almost divine — the 
 might of that incalculable arm which we call sympa- 
 thy ! But when, to his own view, his own strong- 
 hold is his worst hostility, when there is no sui)port- 
 ing elbow within touch, as he looks out upon the 
 hopes which can only ripen in his ruin, how clear 
 in conscience, how tenancious and erect, in spiritual 
 power and purpose, the dethroned must be to be un- 
 vanquished ! The day of Johnston's dethronement 
 was his imperial day. It was the empire of a soul 
 superior to every weapon. 
 
 The great campaign, by which he will be forever 
 judged, is now beyond the wounds of the archers, 
 beyond all slings and arrows, above and beyond out- 
 rageous fortune. From the dark defile of Rocky 
 Face to the large. prospect of Atlanta, it will be not 
 only a possession, but a pattern for all time. Its 
 rugged scenery is illuminated by the meaning with 
 which the lines of greatness clothe the impassive 
 
50 
 
 and the obdurate. It has been made the mirroi' of 
 a great mind. The map of it, the more it is studied 
 the more clearly ivill evince, in due expression and 
 l^roportion, and colors ineffaceable, the lineaments 
 of a giant. It will be a canvas bringing to light 
 that surpassing victory, w^hich cancels adverse fate, 
 and shines over it and throug-h it. 
 
 It was upon a burning deck that Johnston was 
 next summoned to the wheel. It was night when 
 his star again began to burn. The Confederacy was 
 in the article of death, when it once more sent for 
 him, whose hand nowhere appears in the drawing of 
 thatarticle. Johnston was sent for to repair the ruin, 
 which he at least did not prepare ; to take anew the 
 shattered remnant of that army, wrought into such 
 firmness by him, shattered by others; but which, 
 though shattered, was still firm to him. The Con- 
 federacy lifted up its eyes, and beheld all that was 
 left of the Army of Tennessee, tossing and drifting 
 like seaweed in the Carolinas, and a voice which no 
 authority could subdue was heard crying: '-AH that 
 is left to us is Thermopylae. Oh, for a Johnston to 
 stand there!" And a firm voice answered : "I will 
 stand in the gap." The great gap he had to fill was 
 the one which had been rent in his devoted files by 
 futile battle. It was Thermopylje, not in the be- 
 ginning, but at the end of warfare. W ith the portents 
 of downfall all around him, his erectness was un- 
 touched ; his plume was still a banner ; his name a 
 talisman. The moral and military force, which had 
 
51 
 
 been lost in Johnston, will be measured for all time, 
 by the events of the interval, between his enforced 
 abdication and patriotric resumption of command. 
 The impending wreck of things rallied of its own 
 ^ ccord upon the disinherited knight. The hopes of 
 which his downfall had been the pedestal were now 
 themselves a ruin. Out of the lime pit of their de- 
 struction, out of their crash and chaos, rose from the 
 rejected stone the straightness of the Doric Column. 
 
 At this time it was plainly Sherman's plan to 
 march through the Carolinas to the rear of Lee. 
 When the western army went to pieces in hopeless 
 wreck, in front of Nashville, the one hope of the 
 Confederacy was the defeat of Sherman, by all the 
 forces which could be assembled in the Carolinas, 
 united to those of Lee ; whenever the latter could 
 most effectually withdraw from the lines at Peters- 
 burg. Everything depended upon the success of this 
 movement, and the subsequent union of the same 
 forces against Grant. The task had sufficient ele- 
 ments of difficulty as originally presented. Just at 
 this time a new one was introduced. On the 14tli 
 of January, Schofield had been ordered from Clifton, 
 on the Tennessee River, to Annapolis. From this 
 point he had been carried by w^ater to North Caro- 
 lina, where he united to his own army the corps of 
 Terry. 
 
 From, the time Sherman left Atlanta every wave of 
 opposition had calmed in his front. He could march 
 to the sea or to the mountains as he x^^eased. The 
 indications were that the mighty host, which had 
 marched through Georgia in such comfort, would 
 cross the Cape Fear at Fayetteville, to be joined 
 
52 
 
 there by SclioHekl, when, on the 22d of February, 
 1805 — the day he was restored to command — -John- 
 ston was ordered " to conoentrate all avaihible forces 
 and drive back SheiiiiMii.'" Tlie (irdci- was one less 
 diflicnlt to give tlian to execute. It was a question 
 on tlie lirst of March, which woukl reacdi Joiinston 
 first, his own trooj^s from Charleston, or Sherman's 
 army. Hardee did, indeed, cross the Pedee, at 
 Cheraw, on the morning of the IJd, but his rear guard 
 was so hard pressed, that it had hardl3^ time to de- 
 stroy the bridge after passing over it. On the even- 
 ing of the same da}% information was received that 
 the broken columns of the Army of Tennessee had 
 reached the railroad at Chester. Sherman's order 
 of march encouraged the hope, that the tatters of 
 the Confederacy might be gathered up in time to 
 engage one of his wings. It was, however, not only 
 Sherman, but Schofield, then marching up the Neuse 
 Prom New Berne, with whom conclusions must be 
 tried. 
 
 It was under such conditions that Johnston ex- 
 posed to the world the electric force and vivid light- 
 ening of his arm. Here he gave the lofty answer, he 
 scorned to make in words, to all who dared taunt 
 him with want of daring. It should be some one, 
 not less seamed over with honorable scars, who makes 
 that charge. The battle furrowed chieftain might 
 liave said: "Put your fingers in my wounds, all ye 
 wdio doubt." But the heroic answer ever is in deeds. 
 So answered the captain, "who careless of his own 
 blood was careful of that of his men, who knew^ how 
 to take 1 hem under fire and how to bring them out."'- 
 
 Report of L. P. Wigfall in tlie Senate of the Confederate States, 
 March 18(55. 
 
53 
 
 From first mana'uvre to linal onset nothing can sur- 
 pass the magnificent strategy he now displayed. It 
 will have to blush befoi'e no other of the war or of 
 the world. With decisiveness of command, which 
 was met by celerity of execution, he at once ordered 
 the movements which snatched, from the very jaws of 
 death, the last Confederate victory. In the thrilling 
 game of chess, wiiich he now played, no pawn was 
 taken without his leave, while he darted forward 
 and backward upon the board, each time giving 
 check to the king. That game was played with the 
 coolness and consummate skill of a master hand, 
 which knew no pause, no tremor, no uncertainty, 
 and only lacked the force of numbers, which genius 
 could not create, to shine by the side of Austerlitz. 
 It was the grand audacity of a conscious master, whose 
 nerve- matched his skill; whose ministers were 
 strength and swiftness. His first movement was 
 with the troops of Bragg^i then near Groldsboro, 
 added to those of D. H. Hill, just arrived from Char- 
 lotte, to strike Schofield at Kinston. The blow was 
 sufficient to scotch Schofield' s advance. 
 
 Bragg' s troops and those of the Army of Tennes- 
 see, were now ordered to Smithfield, mid waj^ between 
 Raleigh and Goldsboro; it being at the moment un- 
 certain through which of these places Sherman's 
 route would be. Hardee was instructed to follow the 
 road from Fayetteville to Raleigh, which, for thirty 
 miles, is also that to Smithfield. On the 15th of 
 March Hardee had reached Elevation on the road 
 to Smithfield. On the 18th Hampton reported that 
 Sherman was marching towards Goldsboro; the right 
 wing on the direct road from Fayetteville had crossed 
 
54 
 
 the Black Creek; the left on the road from Averys- 
 boro had not reached that stream, and was more 
 than a day's march from the point in its route op- 
 posite to the hamlet of Bentonville, where the two 
 roads according to the map of North Carolina were 
 twelve miles apart. 
 
 Upon this JoiiNSTox prepared to attack the left col- 
 umn of Sherman's army before the other could sup- 
 port it, by ordering the troops at Smithlield and at 
 Elevation to marchimmediately to Bentonville (where 
 the road from Smithlield intersected that from Fay- 
 etteville to Goldsboro), to be in time to attack the next 
 morning. By the map, the distance from Elevation 
 to Bentonville was about twelve miles. In two impor- 
 tant respects the premises of action proved incorrect. 
 The distance between Sherman's forces was exagger- 
 ated, and between his own reduced from the truth. 
 Thereby he was prevented from concentrating in 
 time to fall on one wing while in column on the 
 march. The sun was just rising on that beautiful 
 Sabbath in March, when all except Hardee had 
 reached the point of rendezvous. The gap made by 
 his absence, was for the time filled by the batteries 
 of Earle and Halsey. 
 
 On the way to the attack, and just in time for bat- 
 tle, Johnston had met the shreds and patches of his 
 old troops, under the stanch A. P. Stewart. The best 
 interpreter of a General's strength is the sentiment 
 with which he animates his rank and file. The wild 
 enthusiasm of these Western troops, whenever they 
 caught sight of their old chief, was in itself an in- 
 spiration of success- It was evident that they were 
 as conlident under him, as if they had never seen the 
 
55 
 
 days whicli tore them into strips. They felt they 
 had a general whose life or whose fame was as dust 
 in the balance where his duty weighed; under whom 
 death itself was not in vain. The force, which had 
 been wedded to him by the campaign from Dalton 
 to Atlanta, had not been put asunder by the Topliet 
 of Tennessee. At last the way-worn troox)s under 
 Hardee, which had marched day and night to Join 
 battle, appeared upon the scene. The use for them 
 was quickly revealed. All told, the torn remnants 
 made an army of less than 15,000 men. At their 
 head, JoHNSTOisr burst upon Sherman's left wing, 
 with an electrical intensity which will live in military 
 annals as an object-lesson to show how a wasted 
 force is endowed by a general!? lire. The battle of 
 Bentonville is that marvel — that final battle of the 
 Confederacy which shed the last radiance on its arms 
 as its candle flickered in the socket. 
 
 The batteries which had held the g3.p were now 
 told to follow the dark plume and bright courage of 
 Walthall, who commanded all that was left of Polk's 
 corps. Hardee led the charge of the right wing. 
 With an annihilating fury, the hurricane of war 
 swept Sherman from his first and second line, and on 
 the 19th of Marchnight fell upon Johnston's vic- 
 tory. Had there been no other column to reckon with, 
 or had not the discrepancy existed between the map 
 and the facts, the blow which staggered would have 
 prostrated. The victor would then have turned to 
 thiDw his whole army upon Schofield. As it was, on 
 the 20th, the right wing of the enemy came up. 
 On the 21st Sherman's united army was in position 
 on three sides of Johnston. To oppose the increas- 
 
66 
 
 ing coil the line ol" the hitter was bent into a horse 
 shoe shape, the heel being the point of tlie one bridge 
 left, the bridge at Bentonville over Mill Creek. 
 
 The time had come for the man of resource to make 
 his exit. Tt was essential to make the road over that 
 bridge as secure as a turnpike in time of peace. He 
 knew well how to do it, not with fear but with con- 
 fidence. Once more he looked to Hardee to deal 
 the blow he wanted. That intrepid man, first kiss- 
 ing the pale lipsof his dyingboy, borne by liim on the 
 field, turned to the nearest cavalry command, and 
 assuring them he had been Captain of Dragoons 
 himself, and knew how to handle cavalry, ordered a 
 charge. On his magnificent black steed he led them, 
 and poured their torrent on the opposing front — 
 running back the skirmish line on the line of battle, 
 and the first line on the second. Victory made 
 the isthmus of contention safe. The nettle had been 
 rifled of its danger. Then, with forces vastly more 
 confident than when the fight began, Johnston with- 
 drew with the loss of a single caisson, from between 
 the jaws of death, by the one opening left. Like a 
 whirlwind he came, and like an apparition departed. 
 Under arduous conditions, he had set upon a hill 
 that most admired faculty of man — the faculty to 
 seize and to use opportunity. At his side hung the 
 weapon — drawn from a great general's arsenal — the 
 energy to fuse the fickle conditions of an instant into 
 the bolt of victory. • 
 
 One may be permitted to believe that, with a nat- 
 ural sense of vindication, he had, in this wnrrior 
 fashion, and with a warlike grace, inscribed upon 
 
57 
 
 the record of ttie time the quality of his arm; and 
 with it the reasonable proof, that if the Johnston 
 at Atlanta had not been removed, history would 
 have engraved for him the epitaph : 
 
 "Unus homo nobis cunctando restituit rem." 
 
 One who saw him, writes*, "As he listened to the 
 receding fire of the foe, the brightness of his eye 
 showed the satisfaction with which he looked on the 
 restored spirits of his old comrades in arms ; and I 
 was touched by the affectionate manner i-n which he 
 ministered to the comfort of, and the words of cheer 
 which he gave to a number of wounded men who 
 were carried by. I could then well understand the 
 affection which was demonstrated by them at every 
 sight of him." 
 
 In 1875, Sherman wrote: "With the knowledge 
 now possessed of his small force, I, of course, com- 
 mitted an error in not overwhelming Johnston's 
 army on the 21st of March, 1865." It was the as- 
 cendancy of the few over the many. In the last 
 ditch Johston's victory had been won — when there 
 was little left beyond the field he had filled with his 
 valor. His cynical fate poured all its craft into this 
 last scoff, which left the truth illustrious when it 
 could no more avail a perishing cause. It was as if 
 his brow were torn with a mock crown at last. 
 
 Sherman now moved on to Goldsboro and effected 
 the junction with Schofield, which could no longer 
 be prevented. 
 
 Johnston marched to the vicinity of Raleigh, and 
 
 * Capt. Wm. E. Earle. 
 
58 
 
 disposed his troops, so that Sherman could not go 
 forward to Virginia, without exposing his flanks ; 
 while at the same time he placed himself so as to facili 
 tate his junction with Lee, whenever the time should 
 come to unite once more the two, who rode into Vera 
 Cruz together, for their last salutation of devoted 
 valor. The respect, which these successive revela- 
 tions of resource and energy excited, is, perhaps, 
 illustrated in the terms which, on the 18th of April, 
 Sherman accorded to JoirNSTON ; and which, had 
 they been ratified, would have saved the south the 
 sorrow, and the North the shame — of the Reconstruc- 
 tion Era. The current of events chose otherwise; but 
 once more Johnston did all that sagacity could do to 
 stem the current. To the last there was no spot upon 
 his breastplate which his adversary' s steel had pierced ; 
 none which there was undue eagerness to challenge. 
 From crown to sole he blazed in complete proof. • 
 At the end, his line was an undefeated and unbroken 
 line. When the Great Umpire threw down his 
 warder, the defense of North Carolina, covered with 
 dust and bloody sweat, was standing with firm- 
 planted feet against assault. There it was standing 
 when the edifice. of the Confederacy fell — the last 
 wall of its strength. It was bearing aloft its en- 
 signs, " torn but flying," when the earth under it 
 opened Doubtless it is the spectacle of deeds and 
 energies like these which caused the eloquent soldier, 
 Colonel Edginton, to declare that the force and vi- 
 tality of Johnston's character was like the ocean 
 wave — not to be measured in time of storm, nor to 
 be fairly estimated until rivalries have ceased. 
 
59 
 
 « 
 
 With the return of peace, Johnston was removed 
 from the tield of duty wherein he was best fitted to 
 win renown, and where he had woven the texture of 
 a character as line as it was firm. For the most part 
 his fine assemblage of endowments lay like a book 
 within its clasp, or like a coal unkindled. Broken 
 by intervals of important duty, for a quarter of a 
 century, Johnston found himself doomed to a life 
 of comparative inaction. There have been few to 
 whom it could be more trying to take off the chariot 
 wheels of life' s activity. Perhaps one of the hardest 
 of the many trials of his patience was thus to loiter 
 by compulsion on the way where he was wont to 
 spur. To a breast, ever thrilling with the impulses 
 of action, patience was made perfect by this last 
 trial. Yet it were wrong to pass without a word 
 the blessing Heaven did not deny him; the meet 
 partaker of his puissance and his pang, who 
 drank of the same cup with him, exalting and 
 exalted by it ; who gave him truth for truth, and, 
 under all the blows of time, a constancy fixed in 
 heaven— that blessing which, however, the world 
 might rock, was truer than the needle to the 
 pole— the blessing of a wife's true heart. And 
 when of this blessing, too, he was bereft, we all were 
 witnesses to the chastening touch of a brave man's 
 anguish; how sorrow falling upon a character of 
 such strength and depth did not harden, but melted 
 to a tender glory ; how the snows of his last years 
 were irradiated by a soft, benignant light, as of sun- 
 set on the Alps. This was the final forge in which 
 the iron of his nature was softened to take a new 
 existence and more exquisite temper. He was the 
 
(?0 
 
 picture of the veteran,' sitting in the evening before 
 his tent, all unbroken by the years which are so vpont 
 to break. He was the even more splendid picture of 
 an elevation which was not fortuitous, nor dependent 
 upon fortune, as he sat, still erect, amid the ruins of 
 his heart, and the storm of life and fate. 
 
 So he lived amongst us, his upright, straightfor- 
 ward, unaffected life. So, as he lived and moved, 
 the shadows of the dark reaper deepened round him, 
 until at last we saw him standing, on the confine of 
 of the great night. In his 8oth year, there he stood, 
 "worn, but unstooping." Nowhere could one see a 
 countenance and frame, more worthy to declare — 
 
 "The living will that shall endure 
 When all that seems shall sulfer shock." 
 
 One who came within the circuit of this sceptre of 
 majestic age, might well pause to speculate whether 
 the iron sleep could steal upon the lids, over which 
 that iron will stood sentinel. He, too, could not be 
 conquered until worn out by attrition. He could 
 not be conquered then. The last foe of all he turned 
 to meet, in the old knightly fashion, and wrung 
 from him the final victory, wherein he who conquers 
 self is conqueror of death*. Faithful son of the 
 church, he received his death wound, too, in the 
 breast. Before the Universal Conqueror he fell upon 
 his unsurrendered shield. He fell like a soldier. 
 Closing his eyes to earth, and opening them to 
 Heaven, he gave his soul 
 
 " Unto his Captain, Christ, 
 Under whose colors he had fought so long." 
 
 To this last Caj^tain, who heareth and absolveth, 
 
61 
 
 his last report is banded. "There," he said, on his 
 death bed to Dabney Manry, ''we shall surely meet." 
 Ah, there ! In the light of that perfect eye which 
 looks clean through appearance, and judges the real 
 only ; there is his great appeal ! In those upper 
 fields, where the venom of this earth is slain, its 
 serpent crushed ; where no false balance is and no 
 inadvertency; his clear spirit will join and be felt, 
 where the mighty influences of time, purged of their 
 dross, encounter, as the stars in their courses fight. 
 On the bosom of the Infinite, he, too, is a star. In 
 that last bosom, where the revenges of time are 
 folded, earth's scarred warrior hath cleft a way to 
 peace. 
 
''H^ 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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