Читать книгу Atlanta - Yesterday, Today And Tomorrow - John R. Hornady - Страница 8

PREPARATIONS for the evacuation of Atlanta proceeded with great rapidity, and by midnight of September 1, the withdrawal was complete, save for a small cavalry force whose labors would not be complete until the military stores in the city, which it was impossible to remove, had been destroyed.

This work of destruction began about the midnight hour, and for a little while the city resembled a seething volcano. The earth trembled beneath the force of mighty explosions as locomotives were blown up at shops and round houses, and the din reached appalling proportions as the work of destroying seventy carloads of ammunition began. The noise of exploding shells was incessant and the heavens were continuously aglow with the flames which shot high above the City as carload after carload of munitions were destroyed. Houses rocked upon their foundations as the earth reeled beneath the mighty impact, while the noise of breaking glass and falling plaster added to the din.

Until almost dawn the work of destruction went forward, and then the cavalrymen who had thus signified the passing of Atlanta from the hands of the Confederates, quickly withdrew to join the retreating forces of General Hood.

With the departure of the Confederates, which left the City without government of any kind, there was a brief reign of anarchy. The lawless element, finding the reins of authority lying loose, formed into sundry groups and began to loot stores and vacant dwellings. But the things obtained were of comparatively little value, as most merchants had foreseen the possibility of such an eventuality, and valuables had been put out of the way.

Under the almost continuous rain of shells, the people of Atlanta had become phlegmatic; accustomed to the noise and the danger and quite at home in their dug-outs or cellars. Now a new and unknown something awaited them, and a feeling of profound apprehension gripped the community. No notice had been given of the intended evacuation by the Confederate forces, and some, the day before, even cherished the delusion that a great victory had been achieved over Sherman at Jonesboro. Now the defenders were gone, and the enemy stood without the city gates with nothing to hinder his entrance. What would he do when in possession? What new horrors awaited this afflicted people?

These questions, upon almost every lip, went unanswered for a time. Quiet fell upon the City, death-like after the awful noises of the night before. And while the people waited in tense silence, the invaders made no move. No soldiers in blue appeared, no messengers arrived, no token of any kind came from beyond those lines where were tens of thousands of armed men; men who had fought their way for hundreds of miles in order to realize this hour.

The apprehension and uncertainty grew, and finally Mayor Calhoun called a conference of prominent citizens to formulate some line of conduct. They met near the intersection of Peachtree and Marietta Streets, and there, surrounded by the debris of damaged buildings, they decided that the thing to do was to communicate with General Sherman and, as the Confederate leader had made no formal surrender of the City, this should be done by the civil authorities. This decision reached, it was decided to notify General Sherman at once, and then came up the question of whether or not members of the party should bear arms. "No," said the Mayor, "this would never do," and thereupon weapons were laid aside, it being observed while this was being done that one of the party had four revolvers on his person! He evidently had expected to fight until the last ditch.

It required courage for these men to lay aside their arms and go forth into the ranks of the enemy, for they were liable to be fired upon long before they could reach General Sherman, but the call of duty was clear, and they went forth unafraid. They rode out Marietta Street, where progress even on horseback was made difficult at times by reason of the mass of debris which littered the street; remnants of houses that had been torn to pieces by shells. On they went through this scene of devastation, reaching and crossing the deserted earthworks of the Confederates where so many gallant efforts had been made to save their city, and thence into the open toward the works of the Federals.

For four miles the little body of civilians progressed along a smitten path, when suddenly, at a point where their movements had been concealed for the moment by the contour of the earth, they came upon a company of marching soldiers — men in blue. The committee halted, while a Union Colonel rode up for an explanation. Their story was quickly told, and thereupon an orderly was instructed to escort the committee to the headquarters of General Sherman.

Shown into the presence of the General, they found a disheveled and care-worn individual, surrounded by none of the "pomp and circumstance "of war; a man who evidently found it an ugly business, but whose stern countenance betrayed an unalterable purpose to finish it at any cost.

Addressing General Sherman, Mayor Calhoun explained the condition of the City and said that he had come to surrender it, the only condition being that life, liberty and private property be protected. What this brave executive would have done had his conditions been declined, opens an interesting field of speculation, but, fortunately, no such contingency arose. Speaking in short, crisp sentences. General Sherman said that the conditions would be granted, and, at the same time, he added that the civil authorities had pursued the right course in coming directly to him. He ventured the hope that their relations would be pleasant, "But this is war," he barked out with a great oath, "and I must place your town under martial law."

When, as they were taking leave of the Union Commander, one of the committee said, "Now that we have surrendered, you will probably come in at once, "General Sherman cried, "Come in! I think some of my men are already there.'' Then, darting a searching glance at Mayor Calhoun, he said: ''I suppose it is understood that none of your people will fire upon my soldiers?" He was assured that this would not be done, and thereupon the committeemen turned their faces once more toward Atlanta, where they had suffered so many hardships and disappointments, and where, though they thought the cup of bitterness had been drained, some dregs remained, as poignant as any that had gone before.

The arrival of the blue-clad host began immediately and continued throughout the day, the only opposition they met coming from a half dozen Confederate cavalrymen who had lingered in the city, and who fired a few shots at the enemy upon Decatur Street. Realizing, however, the futility of attempting to do what General Hood and his battalions had failed to accomplish, these dashing cavalrymen whirled almost immediately and clattered off in pursuit of the Confederate army. Thus Atlanta passed into the hands of the enemy, and thus opened that final chapter of the City's slow march up the hill called Golgotha, in which it bore its cross of suffering to the very peak.

"With the arrival of the Federal forces, the city underwent an immediate transformation. Dealers in all sorts of merchandise came swift upon the heels of the advance guard of soldiers, and by nightfall empty stores had been stocked with goods, groceries, clothing and the like, and enterprising news-dealers were crying their wares. Daily newspapers from New York, magazines and even novels were displayed, and Atlanta began to experience a revival of commerce. Quartermaster's stores were brought into the City in great quantities, and a depot of supplies was opened by the United States Sanitary Commission.

The influx continued throughout the entire night, and far into the following day. Billiard rooms and bars were opened, and advertisements appeared announcing a minstrel performance for that night. Dense crowds of soldiers and civilians thronged the streets, but there was no disorder.

As soon as a survey had been made of the City, the homes of some of the most prosperous citizens were taken over for the commanding officers of the Union army. General Sherman made his headquarters in a large building at the corner of Mitchell and Washington Streets, afterward used as a high school.

Fear that the women might be subjected to indignities disappeared quickly, as the soldiers were courteous as a rule, and were subject to strict discipline. Want had multiplied in the City during the long siege, when it was almost impossible to bring in supplies, and measures of relief were taken at once by the invaders. Food was distributed to those who needed it. But while these developments were gratifying to the people, and furnished some measure of relief from the apprehension which weighed upon them, they sensed the fact that they were under a stern and implacable ruler and no show of consideration could remove entirely the fears that compassed them about.

The Union flag was hoisted, of course, and the attitude of the people toward this emblem was watched closely. It was observed in one instance that a young lady, in front of whose home a flag had been placed, began to leave and to enter by the rear door. It being obvious that it was her purpose to avoid walking under the flag, the stars and stripes were raised above the back door. Confronted by this situation, the young lady, one of the most beautiful in Atlanta, proceeded to show her defiance by climbing in and out a window! Having auburn hair and the high-strung disposition, which is popularly supposed to go with it, she was extreme in her denunciations of the "Yankees," but that even such rage as that displayed by her may melt, was demonstrated by subsequent events.

Another charming but quick-tempered belle of the sixties, who was exceedingly bitter against the ''Yankees," was a frequent visitor at the home of my grandfather, Dr. Henry Carr Hornady, then pastor of the First Baptist Church in Atlanta. On one occasion when she was engaged in a characteristic denunciation of the foe, Dr. Hornady sought to tease her by saying: "Don't go on so, child, for you may be marrying one of these handsome Yankee officers before this thing is over." She replied, ''Never, I'd die first," but the truth is that she did this very thing some time thereafter, and the marriage was a happy one.

In this connection it might be observed, that when the war ended finally, the "Yankee" officers had a distinct advantage over the returned Southerners when it came to courting the fair sex. The Southern boys were in rags for the most part, and there was no way of providing the becoming garments of the period. Old carpets, rugs and draperies were cut up and transformed into suits, and even bed-ticking was used. The result in most cases was to merely provide a covering for the body, and the young man adorned with one of these make-shift suits lacked much of being a Beau Brummell. Those who were no better provided for naturally were somewhat backward about seeking the society of the belles of the hour, and thus golden opportunities were allowed to slip.

Contrasted with the pitiful raiment of many of these young men, the smart uniforms of the Union officers shone resplendently, and they experienced none of the hesitancy that characterized the native sons when it came to seeking the society of the fair sex. Thus circumstances, over which no one had control, so shaped events that many Northern youths found the opportunity to make themselves agreeable to the belles of the South, and it was inevitable that, in the course of time, some should have won their way into the hearts that once had flamed with hate. It was some time, however, before this state of affairs eventuated, nor is it to be assumed that the Southern boys were crowded out entirely. That would be far from the truth, for with truly Spartan courage, thousands upon thousands of lovely Southern girls, disregarding the poor apparel and the empty pockets of the returned soldiers, united with them and entered joyously upon the work of rearing citadels out of which flowed streams of healing that helped mightily in the rehabilitation of the stricken South.

The uncertainty that attended the coming of the Federal troops into Atlanta was dispelled in a few days, and then the people learned for the first time how full was to be the measure of their punishment. In their wildest flights of fancy they had not dreamed of being turned from their homes and forced into exile, but this is the unhappy fate that befell them. On September 4th, General Sherman issued his order of exile, the opening paragraph reading:

"The City of Atlanta being exclusively required for warlike purposes, will be at once vacated by all except the armies of the United States, and such civilians as may be retained."

In this proclamation no time limit was set by General Sherman for the forced departure of the civilian population, but this limit was fixed at ten days in a communication which he addressed to General Hood, three days later. In this letter, which was conveyed to the Confederate Commander by two citizens of Atlanta who had been designated for the purpose by General Sherman, the Union Commander said:

"General: — I have deemed it to be for the interest of the United States that the citizens now residing in Atlanta shall remove; those who prefer, to go South, the rest to go North. For the former I can provide transportation in cars as far as Rough and Ready, and also wagons; but that their removal may be made with as little discomfort as possible, it will be necessary to help the families from the cars at Rough and Ready to the cars at Love joy. If you consent, I will undertake to remove all the families who prefer to go South to Rough and Ready, with all their movable effects, viz.; clothing, trunks, reasonable furniture, bedding, etc., with their servants, white or black, with the provision that no force will be used toward the blacks one way or another; but if they want to go with their masters and mistresses they may go, otherwise they will be sent away, except the men, who may be employed by our quartermaster. Atlanta is no place for families of noncombatants, and I have no desire to send them North if you will assist to convey them South. If my proposition meets your views I will consent to have troops in the neighborhood of Rough and Ready, stipulating that no wagon, horses, animals or persons sent for the purpose stated, shall be in any manner harmed or molested; you on your part agreeing, that no cars, carriages, persons or animals shall be interfered with. Each might send a guard, say of one hundred men, to maintain order, and to limit the truce to ten days after a certain time appointed. I have authorized the Mayor to designate two citizens to carry this letter and such other documents as he may forward in explanation. I shall await your reply. I have the honor to be your obedient servant,

"W. T. Sherman, Major-General."

Upon receipt of this communication, General Hood entered a vigorous protest against the proposed action, sending the following communication to General Sherman:

"General: — Your letter of yesterday's date borne by James M. Ball and James R. Crew, citizens of Atlanta, has been received. You say therein that you deem it to be for the interest of the United States for the citizens residing in Atlanta to be removed, and so forth. I do not consider that I have an alternative in the matter. I accept the proposition to declare a truce of ten days, or such time as may be necessary to accomplish the purpose mentioned, and shall render all the assistance in my power to expediate the transportation of citizens in this direction. I suggest that a staff officer be appointed by you to superintend the removal to Rough and Ready, while I will appoint a like officer to control the removal further south; that a guard of one hundred be sent by each party, as you propose, to maintain order at that place, and that the removal begin next Monday.

"And, now. Sir, permit me to say that the unprecedented measure you propose transcends, in studied and ingenious cruelty, all acts ever before brought to my attention in the dark history of this war. In the name of God and humanity, I protest, and believe you will find yourself wrong in thus expelling from their homes and firesides the wives and children of a brave people. I have the honor to be,. General,

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

"J. B. Hood."

The tart comment of General Hood had no effect upon General Sherman, who proceeded without loss of time to put into effect his arrangements for ridding the City of its civil population. Notice was given that the exodus would begin the following Monday, and forthwith hurried preparation was made by the people to leave their homes — for they knew not what. It was the saddest, blackest day in all the troubled history of the little community, for not one, man, woman or child, knew what the future held in store. They knew only that they were turning their backs upon dear, familiar firesides; that they were leaving behind places where had existed the most tender association, and many an eye was dim as the sad processions made their way out of the community — women and children and aged men forming a picture of indescribable pathos. But there was naught of humiliation in their attitude. Bearing themselves with the same high courage that had characterized them throughout the troubled years of the conflict, they moved on, undismayed and unafraid, to the uncertain fate that lay before them.

The exodus to the South carried 446 families, including 860 children and 705 adults. The record of the number going North is not preserved, though it undoubtedly was much smaller. That the movement was conducted with skill and with such attention to the humanities as conditions made possible, is attested by a communication addressed by Major Clare, of General Hood's staff, to Colonel "Warner, of General Sherman's staff. In this letter, written under date of Sept. 22, 1864, Colonel Clare said:

"Colonel: — Our official communication is about to cease. You will permit me to bear testimony to the uniform courtesy you have shown on all occasions to me and my people, and the promptness with which you have corrected all irregularities arising in our intercourse. Hoping at some time to be able to reciprocate your positive kindness, I remain with respect, Your obedient servant."

The Federal forces remained in Atlanta until General Sherman had completed his plans for the famous "march to the sea," whereupon he applied the torch and went on his way toward Savannah, Nov. 15, 1864.

In his final blow at the "Citadel of the Confederacy," General Sherman was thorough, as in all things. Few buildings were omitted from his plan of destruction, and these for reasons which seemed sufficient to him but were something of a mystery to the citizens when they returned. Whitehall Street was largely a mass of ruins, and Alabama Street presented much the same aspect. Some buildings were left standing on Pryor, Hunter, Mitchell and Loyd Streets, but Marietta presented a scene of terrible desolation. Business blocks, churches, homes and hovels had crumbled beneath the fury of the flames, the total number of buildings destroyed being estimated at four thousand five hundred. The list included every building in the City devoted to education. Thus it would appear that the lamented Henry Grady was indulging in no idle dream when, before the New England Society in New York, he dropped the observation that some people thought General Sherman was "kind of careless about fire."

Following the evacuation of the Union army, the Confederates again entered, the first official order appearing after the reoccupation of the City bearing the date of Dec. 2, 1864. That the military leaders had not given up hope or weakened in their purpose, is shown by the fact that steps to strengthen the forces were taken immediately after headquarters had been opened. On Dec. 8, a call was issued for all persons in Fulton County between the ages of 16 and 55 to report at the City Hall for military duty. The age limits fixed here, and in previous calls, would appear to have been extreme, but, as a matter of fact, many persons under sixteen and over fifty-five volunteered for service. This was true at the beginning of the conflict, and was so until the end. Boys of fourteen and fifteen frequently ran away from their homes and enlisted under the pretense that they were sixteen, and bewhiskered men of sixty and over — good shots and inured to hardships, — gave themselves willingly to the cause, hence the saying that "the cradle and the grave "contributed to the armies of the Confederacy, The gameness and endurance of these old men, and the dauntless spirit of the boys, contributed much to the valor of the Southern armies, and helped to make luminous their record of achievement.

No sooner had the word gone forth that the Confederates again occupied Atlanta, than the exiled citizens began to return. Mayor Calhoun was back and had assumed his duties by the tenth, as had Marshal O. H. Jones. Other prominent citizens who returned at once included Dr. J. F. Alexander, Col. J. W. Duncan, Col. Cowart, Judge

Butt, Perino Brown, Dr. Simmons, Major Thompson, Major Bacon, Dr. Lawshee, L. C. Salmon, J. T. Porter, Messrs. Peck and Purtell, Col. N. J. Hammond, Col. J. I. Whitaker, Rev. Henry Carr Hornady, Col. G. W. Lee, Judge C. H. Strong, W. W. Roark, Captain Hubbard, W. P. Howard, and others.

This little handful of pioneers began at once the work of rehabilitation, being joined daily by others who also applied themselves to the task. J. G. Pounds opened a store at the corner of Whitehall and Mitchell Streets, and other enterprises began to appear. On Christmas Day religious services were resumed, the first sermon delivered in the City after its destruction being preached by Dr. Hornady, pastor of the First Baptist Church. It was a sermon of hope, and of prophecy, and it is interesting to record that the speaker on that memorable occasion lived to see his vision of a new-born city, peopled by a happy and contented citizenship, realized to the full. At the time of his death, thirty-two years later, Atlanta had become one of the great cities of the South.

With the repair of the railroads and the opening of avenues of transportation, the influx of returning exiles grew in volume, and before the winter of 1864-65 was over, the population had again attained considerable proportions. But it was a time of great trial to the people. In many instances every vestige of homes and places of business had been wiped out, and the people literally began to build for the future amid the ashes of what had been. Atlanta at this time was no place for the adventurer and the neer-do-well. The situation here challenged the strongest and the most purposeful, and it was this type of men and women who applied themselves to the work of rehabilitation. Imbued with a passionate love for the community, and inspired by unfaltering faith in its future, they wrought miracles of restoration, in spite of the derth of materials.

The work of destruction in Atlanta had not stopped with the burning of thousands of buildings. Every piece of machinery that might have been useful in the work of restoration, had been damaged beyond repair. Lathes and engines had been broken up, boilers had exploded, saw-mills had been reduced to junk, and there remained practically nothing with which to work save the bare hands. As a result, the early structures were of a temporary character, but as soon as the machinery and materials could be brought in, permanency became the key-note of endeavor, as is shown by the presence today of numerous substantial structures, reared during the period of reconstruction, and still rendering useful service.

With the celebration of Resurrection Day in the churches of Atlanta in the Spring of 1865, the City was virile with life. Easter services were held throughout the community and it was a day of renewed hope and kindling faith. Services at this time were being held at the First Baptist Church, Rev. H. C. Hornady; Central Presbyterian Church, Rev. John S. Wilson; Wesley Chapel, Rev. W. W. Wightman, and Trinity Church, Rev. R. A. Holland.

Meanwhile the fearful tragedy of the war was hastening to its close, and all the dreams that had clustered about the establishment of a separate government to be composed of those States among which existed a common sympathy and a common purpose, vanished into thin air. Four years of superhuman struggle and sacrifice ended on April 9th, 1865, when General Robert E. Lee, the idol of the South, handed his sword to General Grant at Appomattox.

Under an order issued at Macon on May 3, Col. E. B. Eggleston, of the First Ohio Cavalry, was designated to receive the surrender of the Confederate troops at Atlanta. He came to this City at once and took command on May 4, one of his first official acts being to issue an order reading "All persons in and about Atlanta, Ga., in possession of intoxicating liquors of any kind, are hereby prohibited from selling or giving the same to any soldier, whatever, under penalty of forfeiture of all liquors found in their possession."

This order was reassuring, in that it indicated to the people that drunkenness and disorder would not be permitted, but no act of consideration could have lifted the pall of gloom which overhung the City when it became known finally that the cause of the Confederacy had been irreversibly lost. The sacrifices had been too great and the suffering too intense for ready forgetfulness.

Atlanta now became a scene of great activity, but it was of a most pathetic character to the people of the city. Soldiers in garments of worn and ragged gray, came in large numbers, and the problem of caring for them would have been acute but for the broad humanitarianism displayed by Colonel Eggleston. The readiness with which the needs of these war-worn men were supplied from the post commissary brought words of highest commendation from the ''Daily Intelligencer," the publication of which had been resumed.

The formal raising of the United States flag above Atlanta came at a moment unforgettable in the history of America. On May, 1864, President Lincoln, had been assassinated, and when the Stars and Stripes were raised in Atlanta on May 16, in front of the headquarters of Colonel Eggleston, the banner stopped at half mast, and remained there, rippling to the soft May breeze. Thus tribute was paid to the dead War President in a city where war had left so many cruel scars.