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    Doctor Quintard, Chaplain C.S.A. And Second Bishop Of Tennessee




                            Doctor Quintard

                            Chaplain C.S.A.

                                  And

                       Second Bishop Of Tennessee

                       Being His Story Of The War
                              (1861-1865)

                          Edited And Extended
                                 By The
                        Rev. Arthur Howard Noll

             _Historiographer of the Diocese of Tennessee,
                    Author of "History of the Church
                  in the Diocese of Tennessee," etc._

                          The University Press
                          of Sewanee Tennessee
                                  1905

           To
           The Friends And Comrades Of
           Doctor Quintard
           In The Army Of The Confederacy
           And In The Church Militant
           These Memoirs Of His Life In War Times--
           Extended To Include An Account Of His Work
           For The Upbuilding Of The Church In Tennessee
           And For The Advancement Of Christian Education In
           The South--Are Most Affectionately
           Dedicated

[Illustration: Charles Quintard.]




                                PREFACE


The chapters of this volume containing the Memoirs of the war were
written by Bishop Quintard about the year 1896 and are to be read with
that date in mind. The work of the editor thereon has been devoted to
bringing them into conformity with a plan agreed upon in personal
interviews with Bishop Quintard about that time.

In the first and in the last two chapters of the book the editor has
drawn freely, even to the extent of transcribing entire sentences and
paragraphs, upon the Bishop's own addresses in the Diocesan Journals of
Tennessee; upon Memorial Addresses by his successor, the Rt. Rev. Dr.
Gailor; upon material used in some of the chapters of the Editor's
"History of the Church in the Diocese of Tennessee;" and upon documents
preserved in the archives of The University of the South.

Thanks are due to the Rev. Bartow B. Ramage, the Rev. Rowland Hale and
Mr. George E. Purvis, among others, for valuable assistance in the
original preparation of the Memoirs.

A. H. N.

_Sewanee, Tennessee,_

_May, 1905._




                                CONTENTS


     I. Introduction                                             1

     II. Personal Narrative--The Beginning of the War
     and Valley Mountain                                        10

     III. Personal Narrative--Big Sewell Mountain,
     Winchester and Romney                                      31

     IV. Personal Narrative--Norfolk                            43

     V. Personal Narrative--Perryville                          50

     VI. Personal Narrative--Murfreesboro                       64

     VII. Personal Narrative--Shelbyville                       69

     VIII. Personal Narrative--A Dramatic Episode               83

     IX. Personal Narrative--Chickamauga                        87

     X. Personal Narrative--Atlanta                             95

     XI. Personal Narrative--Columbus (Georgia) and the
     Journey into Tennessee                                    102

     XII. Personal Narrative--Franklin                         112

     XIII. Personal Narrative--The Crumbling of the
     Confederacy                                               125

     XIV. Personal Narrative--The Close of the War             143

     XV. A Long Episcopate                                     149

     XVI. Bishop Quintard and Sewanee                          164




                               CHAPTER I
                              INTRODUCTION


Writers upon the late Civil War have never done full justice to the high
religious character of the majority of those who composed the
Confederate government and its army, and the high religious principles
which inspired them. Not only was the conviction of conscience clear in
the Southern soldiers, that they were right in waging war against the
Federal government, but the people of the South looked upon their cause
as a holy one, and their conduct of affairs, civil and military, was
wholly in accord with such a view. The Confederacy, as it came into
existence, committed its civil affairs, by deliberate choice, to men,
not only of approved morality, but of approved religious character as
well. It was not merely by accident, that, in the organization of its
army, choice was made of such men as Robert E. Lee and Thomas J.
Jackson,--not to mention a large number of other Christian soldiers,--as
leaders. And it seemed in no way incongruous in the conduct of a war of
such a character, that commissions were offered to and accepted by the
Rev. William Nelson Pendleton, Rector of Grace Church, Lexington,
Virginia, and the Rt. Rev. Leonidas Polk, D. D., Bishop of Louisiana.

A religious tone pervades the state papers pertaining to the
Confederacy,--its proclamations, and its legislation. The same religious
tone is conspicuous in a majority of the military leaders. It is found
upon investigation to have impressed itself upon the officers of
regiments and companies and upon the private soldiers in the ranks
throughout the whole army. So that there is more than an ordinary basis
for the statement, surprising as such a statement may appear at first,
that the armies of the Confederate States had in them a larger
proportion than any other in history since those of Cromwell's nicknamed
"Roundheads," of true and active Christian men.

The provision made for the spiritual needs of the men in the field was
quite remarkable. In the great haste with which the Army of the
Confederacy was organized, equipped and sent to the field, there might
have been found abundant apology for the omission of chaplains from the
official staffs. Yet there was no need for seeking such an apology, for
the chaplains were not overlooked. Even imputing a love of excitement
and adventure to the young men who composed in such large measure the
fighting forces of the Confederacy at the first, they did not neglect to
secure the services of a chaplain for each regiment which went to the
seat of war. It was naturally thought that work might be found for
chaplains in the hospitals, but it was early discovered that a chaplain
had opportunities for efficient work at all times,--in the midst of
active campaigns and when the army was in winter quarters.

Nor was their work in vain. Few religious services in times of peace
equalled in attendance, in fervor or results, those held at, or in the
immediate vicinity of, encampments of the Confederate army. The camps of
regiments which had been sent forth with prayer and benediction, were
often the seats of earnest religious life. It is estimated that 15,000
men in the Army of Virginia alone, made some open and public profession
of their allegiance to Christ during the war, and were affected in their
subsequent lives by religious experiences gained in the war. And the
number is especially remarkable of men in the Southern army who after
the close of the war entered the sacred ministry and won distinction in
their holy calling.

A study of what might be called "the religious phases" of this war
history should be approached through a consideration of the chaplains of
the Confederacy. They were a regimental institution, and their number
might be determined by the number of regiments engaged in the war. They
were, for the most part, men of brains, of a keen sense of humor, and of
fidelity to what they regarded as their duty; sticking to their posts;
maintaining the most friendly and intimate relations with "the boys;"
ever on the look-out for opportunities to do good in any way; ready to
give up their horses to some poor fellows with bare and blistered feet
and to march in the column as it hurried forward; going on picket duty
with their men and bivouacking with them in the pelting storm; sharing
with them at all times their hardships and their dangers, gaining a
remarkably wide experience during four years of army life, and probably
with it all acquiring the pleasing art of the _raconteur_.

If an individual were desired for a more particular illustration of the
religious phases of Confederate war history, he might be found in the
Rev. Charles Todd Quintard, M. D., of the First Tennessee Regiment, and
after the war, Second Bishop of Tennessee. He not only fully conformed
to the type above indicated but in some respects he surpassed it, for
his knowledge of the healing art and his surgical skill were ever at the
demands of his fellow soldiers. He was one of the earliest to enter the
service of the Confederate army, and was probably the most widely known
and the best beloved of all the chaplains.

Dr. Quintard was born in Stamford, Connecticut, on the 22nd of December,
1824. His ancestors were Huguenots who left France after the revocation
of the Edict of Nantes and settled the country north of Manhattan
Island, between Long Island Sound and the Hudson River. Those who knew
Dr. Quintard at any period of his life had no difficulty in detecting
his French ancestry in his personal appearance, as well as in his
manner,--his vivacity and demonstrativeness. Though not a few who failed
to get well acquainted with him fell into the error of supposing that
some of his mannerisms were an affectation acquired in some of his
visits to England subsequent to the war.

His father was Isaac Quintard, a man of wealth and education, a
prominent citizen of Stamford, having been born in the same house in
which he gave his son a birthplace, and in which he died in 1883 in the
ninetieth year of his age. The Doctor was a pupil at Trinity School, New
York City, and took his Master's degree at Columbia College. He studied
medicine with Dr. James R. Wood and Dr. Valentine Mott, and was
graduated, with the degree of Doctor of Medicine, at the University of
the City of New York, in 1847. After a year at Bellevue Hospital, he
removed to Georgia, and began the practice of medicine at Athens in that
state, where he was a parishioner of the Rev. William Bacon Stevens,
afterwards Bishop of Pennsylvania.

In 1851 he accepted the chair of Physiology and Pathological Anatomy in
the Medical College of Memphis, Tennessee, and became in that city
co-editor with Dr. Ayres P. Merrill, of the "Memphis Medical Recorder."
There also he formed a close friendship with Bishop Otey, and in
January, 1854, he was admitted a candidate for Holy Orders. That year he
appeared in the Twenty-sixth Annual Convention of the Church in the
Diocese of Tennessee, held in St. John's Church, Knoxville, as the lay
representative of St. Paul's Church, Randolph. St Paul's Church has
since passed out of existence, and the town of Randolph no longer
appears upon the map of the State of Tennessee.

Studying theology under the direction of his Bishop, he was ordered
deacon in Calvary Church, Memphis, in January, 1855, and a year later
was advanced to the priesthood. His diaconate was spent in missionary
work in Tipton County,--one of the Mississippi River counties of
Tennessee. Upon his advancement to the priesthood he became rector of
Calvary Church, Memphis.

In the latter part of 1856, he resigned the rectorship of his Memphis
parish, and at the urgent request of Bishop Otey, accepted the
rectorship of the Church of the Advent, Nashville. He had charge also of
the Church of the Holy Trinity in that city, and extended his work to
Edgefield, (now East Nashville), and to the parish of St Ann. He served
the Diocese as a member of the Standing Committee, and as a clerical
deputy to the General Convention meeting in Richmond, Virginia, in the
Fall of 1859.

He was a man of varied and deep learning--a preacher of power and
attractiveness, and ranked among the clergymen of greatest prominence
and popularity in Nashville. He was of ardent temperament, affectionate
disposition, and possessed personal magnetism to a remarkable degree,
especially with young men, who looked up to him with an affection which
is now rarely if ever shown by young men to the ministry. This, and the
influence he had over young men, are illustrated by the organization in
1859 of the Rock City Guard, a militia company composed largely of the
young men of Nashville. Dr. Quintard was at once elected Chaplain of
that organization, and its first public parade was for the purpose of
attending services in a body at the Church of the Advent at which he
officiated.

His was a churchmanship of a type in those days considerably in advance
of the average in the ante-bellum period in the South. He was clearly
under the spell of the "Oxford Movement," and of the English
"Tractarians," and occupied a position to which Churchmen generally in
this country did not approach until ten or twenty years later. He was a
"sacerdotalist,"--a pronounced "sacramentarian" at times when the
highest "High" Churchmen of the country would have hesitated long before
applying those terms to themselves.

To him baptism was, not "a theory and a notion," but "a gift and a
power." And baptized children were to be educated, "not with a view to
their becoming Christians, but because they were already Christians."
Consequently he regarded Confirmation, not as "joining the Church," or
as merely a ratifying and renewing of the vows and promises of Holy
Baptism, and hence as something which man does for God;--but as
something which God does for man,--the bestowal of the gifts of the Holy
Spirit. To the preparation of candidates for Confirmation he therefore
gave his most earnest attention, even to the extent of preparing "A
Plain Tract on Confirmation," and (in 1861), "A Preparation for
Confirmation," a manual of eighty-nine pages.

His veneration for the Church's liturgical inheritance was great, and
the books of devotion he compiled and had printed for the use of
soldiers during the war were drawn from the ancient sources. He attached
the utmost importance to the Holy Communion as a means of spiritual
life, and throughout the war he availed himself of every opportunity of
administering it to the soldiers in camp, in the way-side churches as he
passed them, and in towns where he temporarily rested with the army.

With a host of friends in Nashville and vicinity, who looked up to him
with love and reverence, it is not strange that Doctor Quintard should
have been the choice for chaplain of those who enlisted from that city
for the defence of their homes and firesides in 1861. Many of the young
men of his parish enlisted in the First Tennessee regiment, of which he
was elected chaplain, and feeling as he did that these young men would
need his spiritual care far more than those of his parishioners who were
left behind, he felt it his duty to accept the office and go with his
regiment to the seat of war. Both he and his parishioners supposed that
his absence would not exceed six months. He did not return to Nashville
until after the collapse of the Confederacy and the surrender of Lee's
army in 1865.

During those four years he gathered up a rich fund of experiences, both
grave and gay. Always an accomplished _raconteur_ and brilliant
conversationalist, it is but natural that a wide circle of friends in
different parts of the world should have begged him to commit to writing
the story of the war as he saw it and as none but he could tell it, and
permit its publication. About the year 1896 he consented to do this and
entered with considerable enthusiasm upon the literary task thus set for
him.

It was quite characteristic of him, however, that the work as he
projected it was likely to have been a laudation of the men with whom he
was brought into contact during the civil strife, at the expense of the
personal experiences of which his friends were more anxious to read. For
Doctor Quintard was an enthusiast and an optimist. No man was ever more
loyal to his friends than he. His estimate of human character was always
based upon whatever good he could find in a man. Nothing was a greater
delight to him in recalling the scenes of the war than to describe some
deed of heroism, some noble trait of character, or some mark of
friendship that was shown him by a soldier; to acknowledge some kindness
shown him, or to correct some error of judgment that had been passed
upon some actor in the drama of the civil war. Some of the men whom he
paused to eulogize were those to whom fame had otherwise done but scant
justice, and his estimate of them is in more than one instance an
addition of worth to the history of the people of the Southern States.

The death of Doctor Quintard on the 15th of February, 1898, prevented
the completion of the work he had begun more than two years previously;
but left it in such form that it has not been entirely impossible to
gratify the wishes of his friends in regard thereto, and to make a
valuable contribution to the pictures of life in the Southern States
during the troubled days of the Civil War.




                               CHAPTER II
    PERSONAL NARRATIVE--THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR AND VALLEY MOUNTAIN


While rector of the Church of the Advent, Nashville, I was elected
chaplain of a military company of somewhat more than local fame, known
as the "Rock City Guard." This election was only a compliment shown me
by the men who composed the Guard. I was not a military man nor had I
any fondness for military life. So I regarded myself as chaplain only by
courtesy. But on Thanksgiving day, 1860, the Rock City Guard and other
military organizations of Nashville requested me to officiate at the
Thanksgiving services to be held under their auspices.

The services were held in the Hall of Representatives in the State
Capitol, and there was an immense congregation present. It was a time of
great anxiety and the occasion was a memorable one. Rumors of
approaching war were abundant, and the newspapers were filled with
discussions as to the course the South would pursue in case Mr. Lincoln,
then recently elected, should take his seat as President of the United
States. The subject of my discourse was: "Obedience to Rulers,"--my text
being: "Righteousness exalteth a nation; but sin is a reproach to any
people." (Proverbs, xiv, 34.) My sermon was what might be called "a
strong plea for the Union."

In December, South Carolina seceded, and on the 18th of the following
April,--after a bombardment of thirty-four hours,--Fort Sumter
surrendered and the Civil War was fairly begun. President Lincoln at
once called for seventy-five thousand volunteers to serve for ninety
days and put down the insurrection in South Carolina. Tennessee being
called upon for her quota, responded through her Governor, Isham G.
Harris:--"Tennessee will not furnish a single man for coercion, but
fifty thousand, if necessary, for the defence of her rights or those of
her Southern brethren." This undoubtedly expressed the sentiments of the
vast majority of Tennesseeans, who did not favor secession and deplored
war, but who were nevertheless determined to stand with the people of
the South.

In the Spring of 1861, the States of Virginia, North Carolina and
Arkansas, which had hitherto refused to secede, joined their fortunes to
those of the already seceded states; and in June, Tennessee decided to
unite with the Southern Confederacy. She was slow to draw the sword. In
April, the Rock City Guard, now enlarged into a battalion, was mustered
into the service of the State. Subsequently a regiment was formed,
consisting of the Rock City Guard and the following companies;--The
Williamson Greys, of Williamson County; The Tennessee Riflemen, and the
Railroad Boys of Nashville; The Brown Guards, of Maury County; The
Rutherford Rifles, of Rutherford County; and The Martin Guards, of Giles
County.

This was known as the First Tennessee Regiment. The field
officers elected were: Colonel George Maney (afterwards made a
Brigadier-General); Lieutenant-Colonel, T. F. Sevier; Major, A. M.
Looney. Lieutenant R. B. Snowden, of Company C., was appointed Adjutant;
Dr. William Nichol, Surgeon, and Dr. J. R. Buist, Assistant Surgeon.

On the 10th of July, 1861, orders were received by the regiment to
repair to Virginia. Being very urgently pressed by members of the Rock
City Guard and their friends in Nashville to accompany the regiment as
chaplain, I resolved to do so. This, of course, made it necessary for me
to break up my household. I removed my family to Georgia, left my parish
in the hands of the Rev. George C. Harris, and prepared to join my
regiment in Virginia.

My friend, General Washington Barrow, who had formerly been Minister to
Portugal, thinking that I would have need of a weapon for my defence,
sent me his old courtsword, which had enjoyed a long and quiet rest,--so
long, indeed, that it had become rusted in its scabbard. I remember well
my first attempt to unsheath the sword. I seized the handle and pulled
with might and main, but to no effect. A friend came to my assistance. I
took the sword handle,--he the scabbard. We pulled and we pulled, but
the sword refused to come forth. I am not aware that I ever succeeded in
drawing that sword "in defence of my country." On my departure for
Virginia I left it at home.

The first battle of Bull Run was fought July 21, 1861. My cousin,
Captain Thomas Edward King, of Georgia, having been severely wounded, I
went to Richmond to look after him, leaving Nashville on the 1st of
August. After he had sufficiently recovered to return to his home, I
joined my regiment at Valley Mountain on the 23rd of August. Some of the
entries made in my pocket diary while on this trip are not devoid of
interest as illustrating the condition of the Southern army and of the
Southern country at this early stage of the war.

My route was through Knoxville and Bristol. At the latter place, which
is on the boundary line between Tennessee and Virginia, I missed the
train for Lynchburg by an hour, found all the hotels crowded, and the
railroad pressed to its utmost in conveying troops.

While waiting I visited two sick men from Nashville of whom I had heard,
and then strolled out to camp, a mile from the town. There I witnessed
the execution of the sentence of a court-martial upon two private
soldiers convicted of selling whiskey to other soldiers. The culprits
were drummed around the camp, riding on rails, each with three empty
bottles tied to his feet, and a label, "Ten Cents a Glass," pinned to
his back.

At Lynchburg I missed connections for Richmond Saturday night and so
spent a very pleasant Sunday in the former place. I found Lynchburg a
very quaint old town, built on steep hills, from the foot of which the
James River finds its way sluggishly to the sea. I preached at St.
Paul's Church on "The Love of God."

Arriving at Richmond, I found the place so crowded that I began to think
I would not be able to get even a lodging. The Spottswood and Exchange
Hotels were crowded to overflowing, and I could not get the sign of a
room, though I did succeed in getting some dinner at the latter house.
But calling on the Rev. Mr. Peterkin, I was asked to stay with him, and
had for a co-guest the Rev. A. Toomer Porter, chaplain of the Hampton
Legion,--after the war a prominent educator and founder of a famous
school in Charleston, S. C.

At the Rev. Mr. Peterkin's I had the pleasure of meeting the Rev.
William Nelson Pendleton, then a Colonel in the Confederate Army,
afterwards a Major-General in command of Lee's Artillery. He had been in
command of the artillery that did such execution at the battle of
Manassas, and gave me a most interesting account of that fight. There
was not a masked battery on the ground. His guns were within two hundred
yards of the nearest of those of the enemy and within four hundred yards
of those that were at the greatest distance. Yet he did not lose a man.

I learned from Mr. Peterkin where to find my wounded cousin, and with
him found two other wounded soldiers. I made daily visits to the wounded
during my stay in Richmond; met Bishop Atkinson; called, with the Rev.
Mr. Porter, upon Mrs. Wade Hampton, who was a daughter of the Honorable
George Duffie; and visited Mr. John Stewart in his princely
establishment four miles out from Richmond, where I attended services at
the church built by Mr. Stewart and his brother at a cost of fourteen
thousand dollars. It was at this time that I received and accepted my
appointment as Chaplain in the Confederate Army.

On the Sunday I spent in the city that was shortly afterwards to become
the capital of the Confederate States, I preached at St. James' Church
in the morning, at the Monumental Church in the evening, and again at
St. James' at night.

Another interesting incident of this visit to Richmond was in regard to
the Rev. John Flavel Mines, a chaplain in the Federal army, who had been
captured, released on parole, and had been for two days at the Rev. Mr.
Peterkin's house, where I met him. By order of General Winder he was
rearrested, and the poor fellow was quite crushed by the idea of having
to go to prison. He was especially fearful of contracting consumption,
of which some of his family had died. He wrote two piteous letters to me
begging me to intercede on his behalf. After two efforts I succeeded in
visiting him in the afterwards famous "Libby" prison, where I found him
in company with the Hon. Alfred Ely, a member of Congress from
Rochester, N. Y., who had been captured at Manassas. I did all I could
to cheer the prisoners up. Mr. Mines subsequently renounced the ministry
and accepted a colonel's commission in the Federal army. After the war
he entered upon a literary career, and wrote some charming books under
the _nom de plume_ of "Felix Oldboy."

On my way to my regiment I found in Staunton, Virginia, that the Deaf
and Dumb Asylum was used as a hospital, and I wrote to the Editor of the
Nashville "Banner" asking contributions from the citizens of Tennessee
for the sick and wounded and advising the establishing of a depository
at Staunton under the supervision of the Rev. James A. Latané. The
citizens of Staunton made up two boxes of stores and comforts for the
sick of my regiment. I preached in Staunton Sunday morning and night and
left for Milboro. I went thence to Huntersville, which I reached on the
21st of August after a bit of just the toughest travel I had ever made.
I found Jackson's River so swollen by rains that it was impossible to
ford with the stage. The passengers mounted the horses,--two on each
horse,--and forded the stream.

My travelling companion the night of this occurrence and the following
day was Colonel Wheeler, Ex-Minister to Nicaragua, Vestryman in Dr.
Pinckney's Church in Washington, D. C., one of the most agreeable men to
take a trip with I had ever met. His wife was a daughter of Sully the
artist.

We were again delayed at Back Creek, and while waiting for a chance to
cross, I read "Master Humphrey's Clock," a volume found in a knapsack on
Jackson's Mountain. The owner's name on the fly-leaf was "B. B. Ewing,
Comp. I, 12th Miss. Reg't." The book was wet and mouldy. I finally
mounted one of the stage horses and swam the creek and so reached
Gatewoods,--a delightful place,--a valley shut in on all sides by most
picturesque mountains. It was twelve miles from Huntersville.

I finally reached Colonel Fulton's camp, over the worst road I ever
travelled, and thence found Huntersville,--a most wretched and filthy
town in those days, where there were many sick soldiers in a
meeting-house, in public and private buildings and in tents.
Huntersville was twenty-seven miles from Valley Mountain where our
troops were stationed. I was very anxious to get on for there was a
battle daily expected.

Resuming the journey in an ambulance, I had to leave it within a mile in
consequence of the wretched state of the roads, and walked all day over
the most horrible roads, the rain at times coming down in torrents. I
felt occasionally that I must give out, but finally reached Big Springs
and received a warm welcome from General Anderson, General Donelson,
Colonel Fulton, Major Duval and other officers. My clothes were so wet
that the water could be wrung out of them and my first care was to dry
them. That done, I set out for the camp at Valley Mountain three miles
distant, and reached it on the morning of Friday the 23rd of August,
which happened to be the first clear day I had seen for more than a
week.

The following Sunday I began my duties as chaplain, and had services in
camp which were well attended. That week our scouts had a running fire
with the enemy's pickets, and one of our lieutenants captured a Federal
soldier. As it was the first achievement of the kind by any of our
regiment, our camp was greatly enlivened by it. About this time I was
appointed Assistant Surgeon, but I did not wish to accept the office as
I felt that it might separate me from my regiment. I do not remember,
however, any time throughout the war, when there was any opportunity
offered for me to assist the work of the surgeons that I did not do it.

One afternoon a courier arrived at Colonel Maney's headquarters with
orders for the regiment to report to General Loring. While Colonel Maney
was reading the order, a sudden volley of small arms resounded through
the mountain, and some one, thinking the Federal forces had attacked
General Lee's position, ordered the long roll beaten. This startled the
camp, every man seized his gun and cartridge box, and the regiment was
at once in line. For at that time the boys were all spoiling for a
fight.

I well remember how good Mrs. Sullivan, the wife of an Irish private and
a kind of "daughter of the regiment," drew off her shoes and gave them
to a soldier who was barefoot. The boys started off for General Lee's
headquarters without rations, without blankets, and many of them without
coats or shoes. In this plight they reported for duty. It was altogether
a false alarm. A regiment had been on picket duty and was firing off
guns in order to clean them. Nevertheless it happened that the action of
our boys was in conformity to an order received regularly enough about
five minutes later, requiring our regiment to take position within a
very short distance of the enemy's entrenchments, and the regiment
remained out in consequence from Friday morning until Sunday, in full
view of the enemy.

A few days after this General Lee determined on a movement on the enemy
holding a fortified position on Cheat Pass. The camp became a scene of
great animation in anticipation of an important impending battle. To me
it was a memorable week beginning on Monday September 8th--a week of
such experiences as I had never dreamed would fall to my lot, and of
such fatigues as I never imagined myself capable of enduring.

General Lee's plans were undoubtedly well and skilfully laid, but "the
wisest schemes of mice and men gang aft aglee." The plan, to my mind,
was somewhat complicated inasmuch as it demanded concerted action on the
part of too many commanders far removed from each other. Thus General
Henry R. Jackson of Georgia, with Rust of Arkansas, was to attack the
enemy at Cheat Pass where he was strongly entrenched. General Loring
with Donelson was to engage the enemy at Crouch's and Huttonville and
force his way up to Cheat Pass, while Anderson with his brigade was to
pass over Cheat Mountain and engage the enemy in the rear.

The Rock City Guard, with the regiment, left camp at Valley Mountain on
Monday, and moved to a new camp three or four miles in advance. I
remained behind for a day to care for the sick and then followed the
regiment. At nine o'clock on Tuesday morning General S. R. Anderson's
Brigade, consisting of Colonel Maney's regiment and two others, started
on. The route was not by a road but through fields and over mountains
the most precipitous, in going up which we had to wind single file along
the sides and reach the top by very circuitous paths. The paths were
exceedingly steep, rocky and rough, and our horses had to be taken to
the rear. At one time I reached the top of the mountain and sat down for
a little rest under a great boulder that projected out into the pathway.
An officer in front called out to me, "Tell them that the order is to
'double quick!'" I passed the command to another officer, who turned to
those behind him who were struggling up the mountain pass and called out
to them, "The order is to 'double quick' back there!" Whereupon the rear
of the regiment turned and rushed down the mountain. In the flight the
Major was upset, and flat on his back and with heels in the air he
poured forth benedictions of an unusual kind for a Presbyterian elder.

Our first night out, after I had travelled twelve miles on foot, (I had
lent to a less fortunate officer the horse that had been presented to me
but a few days previously), we halted at 10 o'clock. Soon after it began
to rain heavily. I had been carrying the blankets of Lieutenant Joe Van
Leer, who had been exceedingly kind to me throughout the march, and when
I came up to him he said, "I have a capital place where we may sleep.
I'll put my blankets on the ground and we'll cover with yours, as they
are heavier." So he cleaned out a hollow on the side of the mountain,
and there we lay down for the night. We had my blanket and his rubber
coat for a covering. Shortly after midnight a little river began running
down my neck. The rain was pouring in torrents, and the basin Van Leer
had scooped out was soon filled; so I spent the night as did the Georgia
soldier who said that he had slept in the bed of a river with a thin
sheet of water over him. This was not altogether a unique experience for
me as we shall soon see.

The next morning, after breaking our fast on cold meat and "gutta
percha" bread, we took up our line of march and had gone but a mile or
so when we heard the fire of musketry at our left. We supposed this was
by the scouts sent out by General Donelson. This day, (Wednesday), was
the severest of all upon our men. We made slow progress and the march
was very toilsome. We kept perfect silence, expecting every moment to
come up with scouting parties of the enemy. At about three o'clock the
order was passed along the line, just as one half the regiment had
reached the top of the mountain, to "double-quick forward!"

The drums of the enemy were distinctly heard, and we moved as rapidly as
possible, and were about an hour in descending. All the horses were left
behind, as the mountain was found so steep and rocky that it was
impossible for them to go any further. We clambered down the rocks,
clinging to the bushes and jumping from rock to rock, and at nine
o'clock we halted for the night.

Not a word was spoken above a whisper, nor a fire lighted, although it
was very cold. Van Leer arranged our blankets as on the previous night,
and with much the same result. For soon after we lay down the rain came
as though the windows of heaven were opened, and about eleven o'clock we
were thoroughly saturated. A rivulet ran down my back and Joe and I
actually lay in a pool of water all night. I thought it impossible for
me to stand it, but as there was no alternative, I kept quiet and
thought over all I had ever read of the benefits of hydropathy. I
consoled myself with the reflection that the water-cure might relieve me
of an intense pain I had suffered for some hours in my left knee,--and
so it did. At the same time I would hesitate long before recommending
the same treatment for every other pain in the left knee.

In the morning I was well soaked, my finger ends were corrugated and my
whole body chilled through. I was very hungry also, but all I could get
to eat was one tough biscuit that almost defied my most vigorous
assaults. We were ordered to be on the Parkersburg Pike that day,
(Thursday), at daybreak. To show how little we understood the art of war
at that time, soon after we started, a well mounted horseman passed
halfway down the line of the regiment without detection. He proved to be
a Federal courier. Lieutenant-Colonel Sevier finally halted him and said
in surprise: "Why, you're a Yankee!" To which the courier coolly
replied: "I'm so thankful you found me out; I was so afraid of being
shot."

The Colonel took from him a fine pair of pistols, sword, carbine and his
horse, which he gave to Major Looney who was thoroughly knocked up. Half
a mile further on brought us to the Parkersburg Pike, three miles and a
half from Cheat Mountain Pass. The brigade was, as rapidly as possible,
put in position. The First Tennessee was at the head of a column towards
Cheat Pass. In about ten minutes a body of the enemy, about one hundred
strong, in ambush on the opposite side of the road and only about
twenty-five yards from our troops, began firing into our left, composed
of the companies from Pulaski, Columbia and Murfreesboro. The enemy were
completely concealed but our men stood the fire nobly. Not a man
flinched. After two or three volleys had been fired, Captain Field
ordered a charge and the enemy fled.

We lost two killed, two missing and sixteen wounded. We captured
Lieutenant Merrill of the Engineer Corps, U. S. A., attached to General
Rosecrans' command. I fell into conversation with him, and found him not
only a most intelligent gentleman but also a most genial and pleasant
companion,--as most West Pointers are. We also captured seven privates,
and left on the roadside two wounded men of the enemy who were so
disabled that they could not be moved, though we dressed their wounds
and made them as comfortable as possible. The enemy lost some eight or
ten killed,--how many wounded I do not know.

My first experience in actual battle was very different from what I had
anticipated. I had expected an open field and a fair fight, but this
bushwhacking was entirely out of my line. The balls whistled in a way
that can never be appreciated by one who has not heard them. We held our
position until four o'clock in the afternoon, anxiously listening for
General H. R. Jackson's fire, upon which the whole movement depended;
but not a gun was heard in that direction. General Donelson, however,
met a party of the enemy and engaged them, killing seventeen and taking
sixty-eight prisoners. He then waited for us,--of course waited in vain,
and like us withdrew.

When we left the turnpike, we took with us our wounded, all but five of
whom were carried on horses, the others on litters. About two miles from
the highway we came to the house of a Mr. White, where we deposited
seven of our wounded men and left them. The brigade halted in a meadow.
After attending to the wounded, I lay down by a wheat-stack with Joe Van
Leer, who made a very comfortable bed for us. At daylight I returned to
the house to assist the surgeons in dressing the wounds of our men. This
occupied us until nine o'clock.

The brigade in the meantime had moved forward and left us. We supposed
that they had stationed a guard for our protection, but it had been
neglected, and when we left, a man suggested to us that we better remove
the white badges from our caps, for we might come across some scouting
party of the enemy. We took his advice and in addition I took the
precaution to tie a white handkerchief to a stick, and so I led the way.
After winding about over the hills for a mile or so, we came upon a body
of men behind a fallen tree with their guns pointed at us ready to fire.
We heard the click of the locks and I instantly threw up the white flag,
and this possibly saved our party from being shot down _by our own men_.
It was a detachment that had been sent back for us, and as they saw us
winding along without our badges, they supposed us a party of the enemy
on the trail of our forces. One man was very much overcome when he found
out who we were.

About a mile further on we came up with the main body of our troops,
which had been halted for us by Colonel Hatton, who, on discovering that
we were in the rear, ran the whole length of the column to inform
General Anderson of the fact. It felt mighty good to get with the
brigade again.

In less than half an hour after we left Mr. White's house, a party of
the enemy was in possession there. At half past twelve word was passed
along the line that the enemy were following us. Immediately a line of
battle was formed, but very shortly we moved on to get a more
advantageous position. We rolled down one precipice and climbed up
another and again the line of battle was formed. Then it was discovered
that a small part of the enemy's forces was on its way by a route that
crossed ours to reinforce Crouch's, so there was no fighting.

Friday night we camped about one mile from the place we occupied our
first night out. I had no provisions, but various persons gave me what
made up a tolerably good supper, to wit,--a roasting ear, a slice of
bacon and a biscuit; and in the morning I found on a log a good-sized
piece of fresh meat, not strikingly clean, but I sliced off a piece of
it and cooked it on a long stick. The fire, I reckon, removed all
impurities; and Joe Van Leer brought me half a cup of coffee and another
biscuit. We rested here until seven o'clock at night, when we took up
our march for Brady's Gate. At about eleven o'clock we rested for the
night and had the pleasure of meeting two men from Nashville who had
brought out a couple of ambulances loaded with nick-nacks for the Rock
City Guard. Out of their supplies we had a comfortable breakfast, and
again started for Brady's Gate and reached it at 1 p. m.

At this point the enemy had been in great numbers,--some three or four
thousand. Everywhere in the woods they had erected comfortable booths
and rustic benches. Our brigade took position expecting an attack, and
waited until half-past six, and then once more started on our march.
About eight o'clock the rain poured down in torrents and once more we
were thoroughly drenched. The brigade remained all night in an open
meadow, but Colonel Sevier insisted upon my taking his horse, and so I
rode forward with Major Looney and some other officers to a house half a
mile further on, and Dr. Buist, Van Leer, myself and five others took up
quarters for the night in a smoke-house. Unfortunately the shingles were
off just over my head and the rain came through pretty freely. The next
morning we started for our old camp at Valley Mountain, which we reached
at eleven o'clock. It really seemed like getting home. The tents looked
more than familiar,--inviting even. I rested well and ate well and felt
well generally.

The march left many of our men bare-footed. Some of them made the last
of the tramp in their stocking feet, and when we reached our quarters
they had not even a thread to cover them. One of Captain Jack Butler's
men made the remark that if the enemy took the Captain prisoner they
would not believe him if he told them his rank; and when I looked at the
dear fellow, ragged and barefooted, with feet cut and swollen, I thought
so too. But then when I looked down at my own feet and saw my own toes
peeping,--nay, rather boldly showing themselves,--as plain as the nose
on my face;--and found that almost a majority of our regiment were
bootless and shoeless by the hardness of the march, I realized what we
had gone through.

The path by which we ascended to the top of Cheat Mountain was one which
the foot of man probably never trod before. The guide said that he knew
that he could cross it but did not think that the brigade could. I would
not have undertaken the march, I presume, could I have foretold what it
would be. I made the whole trip, with the exception of a few miles, on
foot; for the morning we started out, Lieutenant John House, of
Franklin, a noble fellow, was very weak from an attack of fever from
which he had not entirely convalesced. I insisted upon his taking my
horse and so I did not ride at all until Sunday the 15th. My horse
proved a most valuable one. On our return one of the wounded men rode
her down the steepest hills and she did not once miss a foot. Being
raised in that region she had the faculty of adapting herself to the
provender, while other Tennessee horses grew thin and became useless.

As a result of the expedition, our forces had driven in all the outposts
of the enemy, made a thorough survey of all their works, had killed,
wounded and captured about two hundred of their men, and all with a loss
of less than thirty on our side. But the campaign in that section was
abandoned and all our forces were transferred to another section.

I was very glad to believe that my labors among the soldiers as their
chaplain were not all thrown away. It was very delightful to see how
well our regular daily evening service in camp was attended. And I was
greatly pleased to find so many of the young men anxious to receive the
Holy Communion when I celebrated on the fifteenth Sunday after Trinity,
the day before we started on the expedition. The whole regiment seemed
devoted to me. One of the Captains told the Major that he believed every
man in his company would lay down his life for me. Certainly I met
nothing but kindness from officers and men. And so I was led to hope
that some good would yet grow out of the seed sown in those wild
mountains.

On Friday the 13th of September, General Loring was anxious to have a
reconnaissance made, and assigned the duty to Major Fitzhugh Lee, son of
General Robert E. Lee. Colonel J. A. Washington, a brother-in-law of
General Lee and one of his personal aides, asked permission to accompany
the party, which was granted. They had advanced a considerable distance
when Major Lee told the Colonel that it was unsafe for them to proceed
further. But the Colonel was anxious to make a thorough exploration.
Major Lee, however, decided not to endanger the lives of his men by
taking them along, and so halted them and rode on with Colonel
Washington, accompanied by two privates.

They had not gone far when they were fired upon by a large picket guard
lying in ambush by the roadside. Colonel Washington was instantly
killed, being pierced by three balls through the breast. Major Lee's
horse was shot under him and one of the privates also lost his horse.
Major Lee escaped on Colonel Washington's horse.

A flag was sent to the Federal camp the next day by General Lee, and
Colonel Washington's body was given up. The enemy offered to send it the
whole distance in an ambulance, but this offer Colonel Stark, the bearer
of the flag, declined.

This sad occurrence was the occasion of my first acquaintance with
General Lee, the most conspicuous character in the struggle between the
States. I saw him at Cheat Mountain when he had just learned of the
death of Colonel Washington. He was standing with his right arm thrown
over the neck of his horse,--(a blooded animal, thoroughly
groomed),--and I was impressed first of all by the man's splendid
physique, and then by the look of extreme sadness that pervaded his
countenance. He felt the death of his relative very keenly and seemed
greatly dispirited.

It was my high privilege later on to be brought in contact with this
great and good man and to learn most thoroughly to appreciate his
exalted character and to understand why his life is to-day an enduring
inheritance of his country and of the Church of Christ. Personally he
was a man of rare gifts, physical and mental. To these were added the
advantages of finished culture. He was a very Bayard in manner and
bearing. The habits of temperance, frugality and self-control, formed by
him in youth, adhered to him through life.




                              CHAPTER III
     PERSONAL NARRATIVE--BIG SEWELL MOUNTAIN, WINCHESTER AND ROMNEY


From Valley Mountain I was sent with the sick of our brigade to a place
named Edrai where a number of our troops were encamped. I think it was
about sixteen miles distant, but on account of the condition of the
roads, I was fully three days in making the trip. I had given up my
horse to Lieutenant Van Leer and I was busy each day of the march
administering to the wants of the sick, several of whom died on the way.
A cup of strong coffee was made for me by the sergeant in command of our
escort, (we had coffee in those days, later our ingenuity was taxed to
discover substitutes for it), which was the only thing that refreshed me
on the march. Instead of a coffee mill, a hatchet handle was used to
beat up the grains which were then boiled in a tin cup. I was a long
time drinking that cup of coffee.

The last day of the journey I felt myself breaking down and determined
to reach Edrai as soon as possible. Accordingly I took the middle of the
road, not avoiding the holes which were abundant, and walked through
slush and mud, reaching Edrai just in the gloaming. There was one brick
house in the place, to which I made my way. To my delight I found there
Major Looney of my regiment, who received me with great cordiality. I
was so exhausted that I was obliged to support myself in my chair, and
the Major, seeing how greatly prostrated I was, gave me a large drink of
brandy. It produced not the slightest effect on me, and so in fifteen
minutes more he repeated the dose, and "Richard was himself again." I
went out at once, borrowed a horse of a friend who was a Lieutenant in a
Virginia Regiment, and rode back to meet my sick train. The next day I
officiated at the burial of those who had died en route.

Shortly after this, General Lee ordered us to reinforce General John B.
Floyd, who was strongly intrenched at Big Sewell Mountain, facing the
Federal Army under General Rosecrans and only a mile distant. I passed
through the Hot Springs on the way to Big Sewell Mountain; and from
there, making our way was very gradual, for rains had been destructive
of the roads. In some places every trace of the road had been so
completely washed away that no one would dream that any had ever been
where were then gullies eight or ten feet or even fifteen feet deep.
Fences, bridges and even houses had been washed away, farms ruined, and
at White Sulphur Springs the guests had to be taken from the lower story
of the hotel. Major Looney, Captain Foster and myself were detained at
this point for several days, and I went back and forth to hold services
and to visit the sick.

At Big Sewell Mountain I was brought into very pleasant relations with
General Lee. At White Sulphur Springs, Mrs. Lee had entrusted me with a
parcel to deliver to the General at my first opportunity. Upon my
arrival I at once called upon him and spent several hours with him in
most delightful intercourse. From his headquarters we could see the
whole Federal encampment. With the audacity of ignorance, I said to him:
"Why, General, there are the Federals! why don't we attack them?" In his
gentle voice, he replied; "Ah, it is sometimes better to wait until you
are attacked."

From the camp at Big Sewell Mountain I was sent, in the latter part of
October to accompany a detachment of our sick men to the hospitals at
White Sulphur and Hot Springs, Virginia. When I reached the latter
place, being only fifteen miles from a railroad, I determined to run
down to Staunton to get, if possible, some clean clothing. My visit was
timely, for a few hours after my arrival in Staunton I received by train
two boxes,--one from Rome, Georgia, and one from Nashville. In the
latter box were two pairs of heavy winter boots, a pair of winter pants,
flannel under-clothing and a great variety of useful articles, and my
wardrobe was now so generally well supplied that I could help along some
who were in worse condition than I was in.

My visit to Staunton was otherwise a rich treat. Somehow or other
everybody seemed to have heard of me or to know me, and all extended to
me the most overflowing cordiality and hospitality. I was first the
guest of the Rev. Mr. Latané and afterwards of Dr. Stribling, the
Superintendent of the Insane Asylum. Mrs. Stribling and her daughter
sent by me two trunks filled with things for our regiment, and a lady
met me on the street and handed me ten dollars for the use of the sick.

About the middle of November I received orders from General Loring to
proceed from Huntersville to the Lewisburg line and to transport all the
sick and convalescent belonging to his division to the hospitals at
Warm, Hot and Bath Alum Springs. I accordingly left General Loring's
headquarters one Friday at noon, and crossing the Greenbrier Bridge, six
miles above Huntersville, took the road to Hillsboro, a little hamlet
ten miles distant, where I spent the night very pleasantly, without
charge, at the home of Mr. Baird. Thence I rode to the residence of Mr.
Renick, sixteen miles, and found three of our regiment who had been sick
for some weeks but were then greatly improved and glad to get away under
my protection. On Sunday morning I rode five miles to the town of
Frankford and my name (and fame) having preceded me, I was urged to have
services in the Presbyterian Church. Of course I was very glad to do so
and had a good and very attentive congregation.

At Frankford there lived a Dr. Renick who had been extremely kind to all
of our Tennessee soldiers. He turned his home into a hospital and he and
his wife devoted themselves most assiduously to the welfare of the sick,
refusing any remuneration. I stopped at his house and at his request
baptized his youngest child, a little girl about eighteen months old,
born on Easter Sunday. The parents were quite unacquainted with the
ecclesiastical calendar, yet the father said: "I'm going to give her a
good Episcopal name, Doctor," and so he had me give her in baptism the
name of "Margaret Easter Sunday." I was glad she was not born on
Quinquagesima Sunday for I might in that case have had to give her that
name.

The following day I went to Lewisburg and thence to White Sulphur
Springs, hoping to be in part relieved by one of the surgeons, whom I
ordered to join his regiment with the sick men belonging to it. There
were more than one thousand patients at White Sulphur Springs and there
had been forty deaths within the past thirteen days.

I shall never forget the dinner we had in camp one Sunday about the last
of November. It was the best of the season. Beef, venison, preserved
peaches, raspberries and plums, rice, fine old Madeira, currant wine and
many other things,--most of which had been sent by Dr. Stribling,--made
a real feast quite in contrast with our usual camp fare. At that time
the boys were going into winter quarters and were building very snug,
roofed cabins.

One Sunday early in December, after having service in the camp near
Huntersville, with a pass from General Loring to go to Richmond and
return at the public charge, I started first for Staunton to look after
the interests of a young man from Maury County, Tennessee, who while in
a state of intoxication, killed another man by the accidental discharge
of his pistol. That I arrived safely in Staunton I felt to be a matter
of special congratulation on account of the roads I had to travel. The
mud was from two to three feet deep.

The young prisoner was a noble fellow to whom I had become very much
attached, and was clear of any intentional wrong, I was sure. After
calling upon him in Staunton and consulting with his lawyer, we
concluded to engage the services of the Hon. Alexander H. Stuart,
formerly Secretary of the Interior under President Fillmore, and I went
to Richmond to see that eminent man. On my return to Staunton I had the
trial put off until the January term of court. When it was finally held,
I was called upon to testify to the good character of the accused and I
am glad to say that the verdict of the jury was in the end: "not
guilty."

Our regiment's stay at Big Sewell was not long. There was a good deal of
marching to and fro, and Rosecrans finally escaped Lee and Jackson. From
Big Sewell, General Loring, to whose division we were attached, was
invited to join General Thomas J. Jackson at Winchester. There for the
first time I met that distinguished General and I was very cordially
received by the Rev. Mr. Meredith, the rector of the parish, and was
made to feel quite at home in the rectory.

This was the beginning of a severe and disastrous campaign. The weather
was bitterly cold and during the second night of our encampment a severe
snow-storm arose. I can never forget the appearance of the troops as
they arose the next morning from their snowy couches. It suggested
thoughts of the Resurrection morn. In spite of it all, the troops were
very cheerful, and as they shook the snow from their uniforms, began
singing a song, the chorus of which was:

                 "So let the wide world wag as it will,
                 We'll be gay and happy still!"

After some delay we began our march against Bath on New Year's day 1862.
It was one of the coldest winters known to the oldest inhabitant. Snow,
sleet and rain came down upon us in all their wrath. We had a skirmish
on the march. General Jackson wished to drive the enemy's forces from
the gap in Capon Mountain opposite Bath where they were posted. I begged
him to allow me to bring up the First Tennessee regiment. They were some
distance in the rear, but I brought them forward in short time. As they
passed by in double-quick, the General said to me: "What a splendid
regiment!"

In his report of the engagement, General Jackson said: "The order to
drive the enemy from the hill was undertaken with a patriotic enthusiasm
which entitles the First Tennessee and its commander to special praise."
It was here that Captain Bullock issued his unique command: "Here, you
boys, just separate three or four yards, and pie-root!" (pirouette).
They did pirouette and made the enemy dance as well.

As the Federal troops retreated through the gap in the mountain, they
came face to face with a brigade of the Virginia Militia. Each fired a
volley and fled as fast as legs could carry them, in opposite
directions. To the boys looking down upon the scene from the mountain,
it was a comical sight. As the infantry put the Federals to flight on
Capon Mountain, Captain Turner Ashby drove the Federal cavalry along the
highway in the valley like leaves before the wind.

We reached Romney without further obstruction. On Sunday I officiated in
a church which was crowded to its utmost capacity. I shall never forget
the grave attention which "Stonewall" Jackson paid to my discourse. The
text from which I preached was: "Be sure your sin will find you out."

The march from Winchester to Romney was one of great hardship and was
utterly fruitless of military results. The situation in our camp in the
latter part of January 1862, was rather disturbed. The two Generals,
Stonewall Jackson and Loring, did not work well together. Their commands
were separate. Jackson commanded the Army of the Valley District; Loring
the Army of the North West. The former had written begging the Secretary
of War to send Loring and all his forces to co-operate with him
(Jackson), in that section and expressing the opinion that the two could
drive the enemy from the whole region. The Secretary of War enclosed
Jackson's letter to Loring, leaving the movement to his (Loring's)
discretion, but at the same time expressing his opinion and that of the
President, as decidedly in favor of it.

Accordingly Loring went expecting some prompt and decided work. But no
sooner had he arrived in Winchester, than General Jackson began to work
to merge the two armies into one and to take General Loring's command
under his control. Jackson had but one brigade, while Loring had three
under his control. The troops of the latter, from the highest officer to
the lowest private, were perfectly devoted to their General. Of course a
vast amount of ill feeling was stirred up, and the affair reached a
climax when an order was issued for our troops to build winter quarters
in Romney, while Jackson's brigade marched back to ease and comfort at
Winchester.

I cannot begin to tell all that our troops suffered through the
stupidity and want of forethought, (as I then thought it), of
Major-General Jackson. It is enough to say that we were subjected to the
severest trials that human nature could endure. We left Winchester with
2,700 men in General Anderson's Brigade of Tennesseeans. That number was
reduced to 1,100. When we reached the position opposite the town of
Hancock, Maryland, the First Regiment numbered 680. In Romney, it
mustered only 230 men fit for duty. I felt that General Loring ought to
demand that he might be allowed to withdraw his forces from the command
of Major-General Jackson.

So far as the personal staff of General Loring (including myself) was
concerned, it was comfortably situated in a very pleasant new house. But
no one could possibly imagine the horrible condition of affairs at
Romney among the troops; and when Stonewall Jackson took his command
back to Winchester, the men of Loring's command shouted to them: "There
go your F. F. V.'s!" The "pet lambs" of the Stonewall Brigade were
comfortably housed at Winchester while the troops of Loring's command
were left behind in Romney to endure the bitter, biting weather.

This movement on the part of Jackson was the subject of much bitter
comment. A report thereof was taken to Richmond and laid before the
Secretary of War. He was greatly surprised that Jackson should have
withdrawn his forces to Winchester, leaving the reinforcing column
behind,--or as it was expressed at the time, "leaving the guests,--the
invited guests,--out in the cold." As a result of the controversy that
ensued, General Jackson was required by the Secretary of War to direct
General Loring to return with his command to Winchester. This we did on
the 1st of February, and while in Winchester I was called to officiate
at the funerals of a number of our men who had died from sickness and
exposure. And it was while there that we received the news of the fall
of Fort Donelson.

Although Jackson complied with the order of the Secretary of War, he
regarded it as a case of interference with his command and took umbrage.
It was by the exercise of great tact on the part of General Joseph E.
Johnston, Commander-in-Chief of the Department, and of Governor John
Letcher, of Virginia, that Jackson was prevailed upon to withhold his
resignation, and his valuable services were preserved to the army of the
Confederacy.

On the 10th of February, 1862, the First and Third Regiments, Tennessee
Volunteers, with a Georgia Regiment, were by the command of the
Secretary of War, ordered to proceed to Knoxville, Tennessee, and to
report for duty to General Albert Sidney Johnston. A different
disposition was made of the Seventh and Fourteenth Tennessee Volunteers
and of an Arkansas Regiment, and all the remainder of the command of
Brigadier-General Loring was to proceed to Manassas, Virginia, to report
for duty to General Joseph E. Johnston. It was with a sad heart that
"the boys" of the First Tennessee bade farewell, on the 7th of February,
to the Seventh and Fourteenth Regiments and to their warm-hearted and
hospitable Virginia friends.

During the march against Romney, General Loring had me commissioned by
the Secretary of War as his aide-de-camp. I was very strongly opposed to
holding such a commission, and declined to accept, but I could not leave
General Loring in the troubles and anxieties that distressed him, and so
as a member of his staff, I travelled around considerably at that time,
going from camp to camp, attending the trial of my friend at Staunton,
and going to Richmond on military business. To get from Romney to
Staunton on one occasion I had to take a horse-back ride of forty-three
miles to Winchester, then to go by stage eighteen miles to Strasburg,
and thence by rail via Manassas and Gordonsville. This was a roundabout
way but was preferable at the time to a much shorter route down the
valley from Winchester.

On the 21st of February, I went with General Loring to Norfolk, to which
point he had been ordered, instead, as I had hoped, to Georgia, where I
would have been nearer my family. At this time he was promoted to
Major-General. We went, of course, by way of Richmond where I called
with him on President Jefferson Davis and was very agreeably
disappointed in his personal appearance and bearing. I might have
witnessed the ceremonies of his inauguration, but as the day set for
that function proved very inclement, I was glad that I chose to spend it
on the cars between Richmond and Norfolk. On that day General Loring had
a very severe chill followed by congestion of the right lung, which was
the precursor of an attack of pneumonia affecting both lungs. I watched
by his bedside in Norfolk through all his illness, which prolonged my
visit in that city for several weeks.




                               CHAPTER IV
                      PERSONAL NARRATIVE--NORFOLK


At Norfolk I had the pleasure of intercourse with such friends as John
Tattnall, son of Commander Tattnall; Benjamin Loyall and Lieutenant
Walter Butt of the ironclad "Virginia," with the clergy of the city and
with many charming families. How can I ever forget the old-time Virginia
hospitality that was meted out to me--the enthusiastic reception I had
from all kinds and conditions of men? How well I remember Mr. Tazewell
Taylor! He was well up in genealogy, and not only knew all of the old
families of Virginia, but the principal families of the whole South. It
was quite delightful to hear him, "in the midst of war's alarums," talk
over "old times" and old folks. Those days before the war were all so
different from what we have known since. No one born since the war can
write intelligently of the blessed old days in the South.

But if any one would read a true account of the trials and woes of a
Southern household during the dreadful war-time, let him read "The Diary
of a Southern Refugee During the War," written by Mrs. Judith W. McGuire
for the members of her family, "who were too young to remember those
days." Mrs. McGuire's book is a wonderful record of hope, joys, sorrows
and trials, and of the way in which, amid it all, the faithful women of
the South cheered the hearts of the heroes in the field.

One Sunday in March I preached a sermon at St. Paul's Church, (old St.
Paul's, built in 1739,) exhorting the people to the work before them,
reminding them that in the conflict in which we were engaged, not only
the rights of our people and the glory of our nation, but the Church of
God was imperilled. It was my "old war sermon," rearranged for Virginia.
At the solicitation of clergy and people formally presented, I repeated
it several times in Norfolk. On Ash Wednesday I preached again in St.
Paul's to a fine congregation and was requested to repeat my sermon,
which was on the Good Samaritan, the following Sunday in the same church
and subsequently in Christ Church.

I met many persons of distinction in the city. General Huger, who was in
command in Norfolk, called upon me. General Howell Cobb was there as
Commissioner on the part of the Confederate Government to arrange with
General Wood on the part of the United States, about the exchange of
prisoners.

In the latter part of February, I became interested in the
transformation by which the "Merrimac" became the "Virginia" of the
Confederate Navy. One day I slipped off from my patient, General Loring,
while he was sleeping, and went to Portsmouth to visit the wonderful
craft. The part that appeared above water suggested to me a book opened
at an angle of forty-five degrees and the fore edges of its cover placed
on a table. At the bow was a sharp projection by which it was expected
to pierce the side of any ship it might run against.

All the machinery was below water. The roof was about thirty-eight
inches in thickness, of timber very heavily plated with iron. The fore
and aft guns were the heaviest, carrying shot and shell eighty-five and
ninety pounds in weight. The others were very heavy also and magnificent
of their kind. She carried ten guns in all. Her new steel-pointed and
wrought iron shot were destined to do some terrific work. She was likely
to escape injury unless struck below the water-line, and there was not
much danger of that occurring as she was in a measure protected below
that line also. She drew rather too much water, as Lieutenant Spotswood
told me at the time of my visit.

While I was at Norfolk, the great battle between the "Virginia" and the
"Monitor" and ships of war "Congress" and "Cumberland" took place. I
witnessed the destruction of the "Congress" and the "Cumberland." The
first days fight was on the 8th of March. By special invitation, the
Rev. J. H. D. Wingfield, (who afterwards became Bishop of Northern
California), celebrated the Blessed Sacrament in his church, (Trinity
Church, Portsmouth), for the officers of the "Virginia" before they went
into battle.

When the "Virginia" cast off her moorings at Norfolk Navy Yard and
steamed down the river, the "Congress" and the "Cumberland" (frigates)
had been lying for some time off Newport News. Officers and men on the
"Virginia" were taking things quietly as if they were really on an
ordinary trial trip. As they drew near the "Congress," Captain Buchanan,
the Commander of the "Virginia," made a brief and stirring appeal to his
crew, which was answered by cheers. He then took his place by the side
of the pilot near the wheel.

My friend Lieutenant J. R. Eggleston commanded the nine-inch broadside
guns next abaft the engine-room hatch, and he was ordered to serve one
of them with hot shot. Suddenly he saw a great ship near at hand bearing
down upon the "Virginia." In a moment twenty-five solid shot and shell
struck the sloping side of the "Virginia" and glanced high into the air,
many of the shells exploding in their upward flight.

In reply to this broadside from the "Congress" one red hot shot and
three nine-inch shells were hurled into her and the "Virginia" steamed
on without pausing. Suddenly there was a jar as if the vessel had run
aground. There was a cheering forward and Lieutenant Eggleston passed
aft, waving his hat and crying: "We have sunk the 'Cumberland.'" She had
been struck about amidship by the prow of the "Virginia," and in sinking
tore the prow from the bow of her assailant and carried it down with
her. The "Virginia" then moved some distance up the river in order to
turn about in the narrow channel.

As soon as the "Congress" saw her terrible foe coming down upon her, she
tried to escape under sail, but ran aground in the effort. The
"Virginia" took position under her stern and a few raking shots brought
down her flag. Captain Porcher, in command of the Confederate ship
"Beaufort," made an effort to take the officers and wounded men of the
"Congress" prisoners. Two officers came on board the "Beaufort" and
surrendered the "Congress." Captain Porcher asked them to get the
officers and wounded men aboard his vessel as quickly as possible as he
had been ordered to burn the "Congress." He was begged not to do so as
there were sixty wounded men on board the "Congress," but his orders
were peremptory.

While he was making every effort to move the wounded, a tremendous fire
was opened on the "Beaufort" from the shore. The Federal officers begged
him to hoist a white flag lest all the wounded men should be killed. The
fact that the Federals were firing on a white flag flying from the
mainmast of the "Congress" was brought to the attention of the Federal
officers, who claimed, however, that they were powerless to stop the
fire as it proceeded from a lot of volunteers who were not under the
control of the officers on board the "Beaufort." The fire continuing,
Captain Porcher returned it, but with little effect. He estimated the
loss in the Federal fleet, in killed, drowned, wounded and missing, of
nearly four hundred men. The total loss of the Confederates did not
exceed sixty. Captain Buchanan and his flag-lieutenant were wounded and
taken to the Naval Hospital at Norfolk. Catesby Jones succeeded to the
command of the "Virginia." About an hour before midnight the fire
reached the magazine of the "Congress" and she blew up.

The next day the "Virginia" steamed out towards the "Minnesota," when
the "Monitor" made her appearance. The latter came gallantly forward,
and then began the first battle ever fought between ironclads. It
continued several hours, neither vessel, so far as could be ascertained
at the time, inflicting by her fire any very serious damage on the
other.

The "Virginia" then got ready to try what ramming would do for the
"Monitor." What it did was to silence the latter forever in the presence
of the "Virginia." Unfortunately, just before the "Virginia" struck the
"Monitor," the former stopped her engine under the belief that the
momentum of the ship would prove sufficient for the work. Had the
"Virginia" kept on at full speed, she would undoubtedly have run the
"Monitor" under. As it was, the latter got such a shaking up that she
sought safety in shoal water whither she knew the "Virginia" could not
follow her. It should be remembered that the "Virginia" drew twenty-two
feet of water and was very hard to manage, whereas the "Monitor" was
readily managed and drew but ten feet of water.

The following day the Rev. Mr. Wingfield was called upon to offer up
prayers and thanksgiving for the victory, on board the gallant ship. It
was a solemn, most impressive and affecting scene, as those valiant men
of war fell upon their knees on the deck and bowed their heads in
reverence and godly fear. The weather-beaten faces of many of the brave
seamen were observed to be bathed in tears and trembling with emotion
under the influence of that memorable service.

After this Commodore Tattnall was placed in command of the "Virginia,"
and on the morning of the 11th of April the "Virginia" went down Hampton
Roads with the design of engaging the enemy to the fullest extent. I
received a concise cypher telegram, ("Splinters," was all it said), from
my dear friend John Tattnall, son of the Commodore, and I at once set
out to see what was going on. With General Loring, (who was by that time
fully recovered from his illness), and quite a party of friends and
officers, I went down the bay in a cockle-shell of a steamer, to witness
the engagement. In order to provoke the enemy, Commodore Tattnall
ordered two of his gunboats to run into the transport anchorage and cut
out such of the vessels as were lying nearest the "Virginia." This was
successfully done within sight of and almost within gun-shot of the
"Monitor," but she could not be drawn into an engagement. Although the
enemy refused to fight, the "Monitor" threw a number of shells, several
of which passed over our little steamer. We deemed it, therefore, good
military, (and naval) tactics to withdraw and let the contestants attend
to their own business.




                               CHAPTER V
                     PERSONAL NARRATIVE--PERRYVILLE


Hearing about this time of the extreme illness of my Bishop, the Right
Reverend James Hervey Otey, in Jackson, Mississippi, I left Norfolk,
with considerable regret, for the society of that city I had found most
charming, and my stay there had been very pleasant. I went by way of
Mobile, having for my travelling companion from Montgomery, Alabama, to
that city, Captain J. F. Lay, a brother of the then Bishop of Arkansas.
The Captain was a member of Beauregard's staff.

General Forney was in command at Mobile and I had a very pleasant chat
with him. His left arm was still almost useless from a severe wound
received in the Dranesville fight. I met also the Rev. Mr. Pierce, who
afterwards became Bishop of Arkansas; and Madame Le Vert, one of the
most distinguished of Southern writers. I had a drive down the bay over
one of the finest shell roads in the world. And on the Sunday that I
spent in Mobile, I preached my "war sermon,"--adapted, of course, to the
people of Mobile.

I found my beloved Bishop at the residence of Mrs. George Yerger, in
Jackson, and remained in attendance on him for several weeks. He was
then removed from Jackson to the residence of Mrs. Johnstone at
Annandale. There he enjoyed all that kindness and wealth could give. He
was able to drive out after a time, and I remember how thoroughly he
enjoyed the music of the spring birds. There was one bird that he called
the "wood-robin," whose notes were especially enjoyed, and the carriage
was frequently stopped that he might listen to the warbling of this
bird.

From Annandale I went to visit my family in Rome, Georgia, and spent
some time in attendance upon the hospitals there. Then I returned to
General Loring's headquarters for a brief visit to the General to whom I
was warmly attached, and to make farewell visits to sundry officers and
bid my old military companions a final adieu. For my intention it then
was to leave the army.

General Loring's headquarters were at New River, Virginia, at a place
called the Narrows, because the river gashed through Peter's Mountain,
which rises abruptly from the banks on either side. The General and all
the staff gave me a most cordial greeting, but the former told me that I
had no business to resign and that he had kept the place open for me. If
I would not be his aide he had a place for me as chaplain. But my
resignation had already been accepted on the 14th of June by the
Secretary of War. As soon as I had determined to resign, I forwarded to
the Secretary of War a copy of my resignation to General Loring and the
former had accepted it.

The General, Colonel Myer, Colonel Fitzhugh and myself, with a cavalry
escort, went for a little outing to the Salt Sulphur Springs, dining on
our way at the Gray Sulphur Springs. The former place was really one of
the pleasantest of all the watering places I visited in Virginia. The
grounds were rolling, well laid out and very well shaded. The houses
were principally of stone and capable of accommodating about four
hundred guests.

There were two springs of great value there, the Salt Sulphur and the
Iodine. The first possessed all the sensible properties of sulphur water
in general; its odor, for instance, was very like that of a "tolerable
egg," and might be perceived at some distance from the Spring; and in
taste it was cousin-german to a strong solution of Epsom salts and
magnesia. Like most of the sulphurous, this water was transparent and
deposited a whitish sediment composed of its various saline ingredients
mingled with sulphur.

The Iodine Spring was altogether remarkable and was the only one
possessing similar properties in all the country round. It was
peculiarly adapted to cutaneous eruptions and glandular diseases. The
Salt Sulphur Spring was hemmed in on every side by mountains.

General William Wing Loring, of whom I was then taking my leave, was not
only a very charming companion but he was altogether a remarkable man. A
braver man never lived. He was a North Carolinian by birth, and only a
few years older than myself. Yet he was already the hero of three
wars--the Seminole War, the War with Mexico and that in which we were
then engaged. And in 1849 he had marched across the continent to Oregon
with some United States troops as an escort for a party of gold-seekers.
He had also engaged in Indian warfare and had taken part in the Utah
Expedition in 1858. His frontier services in the United States Army were
equalled only by those of that grand soldier, Albert Sidney Johnston.
The following year, he had leave of absence from the army and visited
Europe, Egypt and the Holy Land. He was in command of the Department of
New Mexico in May 1861 and resigned to accept a commission as
Brigadier-General in the Confederate Army.

As Major-General he served to the end of the war, leading a Division and
frequently commanding a corps--always with credit to himself and to the
service in which he was engaged. It was at Vicksburg, in 1863, that he
received the familiar nickname of "Old Blizzard." After the war he took
service with the Khedive of Egypt as General of Brigade and was
decorated in 1875 with the "Imperial Order of Osmariah," and was
promoted to be General of a Division. Four years later he was mustered
out of the Egyptian service. In 1883 he published "A Confederate Soldier
in Egypt,"--a most readable book. He died in New York city three years
later at the age of sixty-eight.

I officiated at his funeral in St. Augustine, Florida, on the 19th of
March, 1886. The commanding General of the Army post at St. Augustine
acted as one of the pall-bearers, and at the cemetery the body was borne
from the gun-carriage to the grave by three Federal and three
ex-Confederate soldiers. A salute was fired at the grave by a battery of
United States Artillery.

I had looked toward the Diocese of Alabama for some parochial work, but
the Bishop of Alabama, the Rt. Rev. Dr. Wilmer, not only could offer me
no work in his jurisdiction, but strongly advised me to go back to the
army as chaplain and surgeon, assuring me that there was work for me in
that capacity. In June, I had a petition from my old regiment to rejoin
it. I had no difficulty in getting a chaplain's commission. General
Loring wrote me a strong letter, and that, with the aid of a telegram
from General (and Bishop) Polk, secured it. So I returned to the Army of
Tennessee at Chattanooga, and was enthusiastically received by the
officers and members of my regiment; and especially by General Polk and
his staff, upon which I found my dear friends Colonel Harry Yeatman,
Colonel William B. Richmond and Colonel William D. Gale.

In August 1862 we advanced into Kentucky, crossing over Walden's Ridge
and the Cumberland Mountains by way of Pikeville and Sparta, Tennessee.
My first intention was to leave Chattanooga with General Polk and his
staff, but on finding that Dr. Buist was going alone, I concluded to
accompany him. So we two started off at 10 a.m. on the 28th of August,
and following the route of our immense wagon train, which stretched out
for miles along the road, we supposed we were all right and knew nothing
to the contrary until we reached the top of Walden's Ridge where we
found General Bragg, General Buckner and Governor Harris. The Governor
put us right as to our way and we had a long ride back to get into the
road taken by our Brigade, which was quite different from that taken by
the wagon train.

We rode until after four o'clock in the afternoon, and then stopped at a
house that was crowded with soldiers and refugees. We had a bed made on
the floor for us and, with many others, slept well until 1 a.m., when we
started on, and after a couple of hours learned that the army had
halted. We rode into camp, about thirty miles from Chattanooga, at
dinner time with ravenous appetites. We were having pretty good living
just then, for the country was admirably watered. A great many country
women visited our camp to hear our band play.

We continued our march to Mumfordville, Kentucky, where the Louisville
and Nashville Railroad crosses Green River. There on the 16th of
September, with a loss of fifty killed and wounded, we captured some
four thousand prisoners with as many guns and much ammunition, besides
killing and wounding seven hundred of the enemy. The Federal forces were
commanded by General Wilder, since the war a most prominent citizen of
Chattanooga, for whom I entertain the heartiest and most cordial regard.
General Chalmers, one of General Bragg's brigadiers, was conspicuous in
this fight for the gallantry and skill with which he handled his troops.
When the Federal forces surrendered on the 17th, I stood beside the road
and saw them lay down their arms. Though there were but four thousand, I
thought as they passed by me that the whole Federal Army had surrendered
to General Bragg. The night following this battle I found a sleeping
place in a graveyard.

On the 23rd of September we reached Bardstown, Kentucky, and took
possession. In the meantime General Buell, leaving a strong guard at
Nashville, marched to Louisville where his army was increased to fully
one hundred thousand men. It was not until October and after he had
reorganized his army and was in danger of being superseded in the
command thereof that he began his campaign against General Bragg's
forces. The latter had collected an immense train, mostly of Federal
army wagons loaded with supplies. And it being clear that the two great
objects of our invasion of Kentucky--the evacuation of Nashville and the
inducement of Kentucky to join the Confederacy--would fail, Bragg
decided only to gain time to effect a retreat with his spoils. He
harrassed the advance of Buell on Bardstown and Springfield, retired to
Danville and thence marched to Harrodsburg to effect a juncture with
General Kirby-Smith.

On the 7th of October he moved to Perryville, where on Wednesday, the
8th, a battle was fought between a portion of Bragg's army and Buell's
advance, commanded by General McCook. At this battle of Perryville our
regiment captured from the Federals four twelve-pounder Napoleon brass
guns, which were afterwards, by special order, presented to the battery
of Maney's Brigade.

The night before the battle I shared blankets in a barnyard with General
Leonidas Polk, Bishop of Louisiana. The battle began at break of day by
an artillery duel, the Federal battery being commanded by Colonel
Charles Carroll Parsons and the Confederates by Captain William W.
Carnes. Colonel Parsons was a graduate of West Point and Captain Carnes
was a graduate of the Naval Academy at Annapolis. I took position upon
an eminence at no great distance, commanding a fine view of the
engagement, and there I watched the progress of the battle until duty
called me elsewhere.

Captain Carnes managed his battery with the greatest skill, killing and
wounding nearly all the officers, men and horses connected with Parsons'
battery. Parsons fought with great bravery and coolness and continued
fighting a single gun until the Confederate infantry advanced. The
officer in command ordered Colonel Parsons to be shot down. As the
muskets were leveled at him, he drew his sword and stood at "parade
rest," ready to receive the fire. The Confederate Colonel was so
impressed with this display of calm courage that he ordered the guns
lowered, saying: "No! you shall not shoot down such a brave man!" And
Colonel Parsons was allowed to walk off the field.

Subsequently I captured Colonel Parsons for the ministry of the Church
in the Diocese of Tennessee. He was brevetted for his bravery at
Perryville and he performed other feats of bravery in the war. At
Murfreesboro he repelled six charges, much of the time under musketry
fire. He was often mentioned in official reports of battles. After the
war he was on frontier duty until 1868 when he returned to West Point as
a Professor. Shortly after my consecration as Bishop of Tennessee, I
preached in the Church of the Holy Trinity, Brooklyn, New York, on
"Repentance and the Divine Life." This sermon made a deep impression
upon Colonel Parsons, as he told me when I subsequently met him at a
reception at the residence of the Hon. Hamilton Fish.

I visited him twice at West Point by his invitation, and a
correspondence sprang up between us. In 1870 he resigned his commission
in the army to enter the ministry. He studied theology with me at
Memphis, and it was my privilege to ordain him to the diaconate and
advance him to the priesthood. His first work was at Memphis. Then for a
while he was at Cold Spring, New York. He returned, however, to Memphis
and became rector of a parish of which Mr. Jefferson Davis was a member
and a vestryman. He remained heroically at his post of duty during the
great epidemic of yellow fever in 1878. He was stricken with the fever
and died at my Episcopal residence on the 6th of September. Captain
Carnes was the first man I confirmed after my consecration to the
Episcopate of Tennessee.

With the advance of Cheatham's division the battle of Perryville began
in good earnest. General Cheatham was supported by General Cleburne and
General Bushrod Johnson, but it was not long before the whole
Confederate line from right to left was advancing steadily, driving back
the enemy. It was a fierce struggle. Until nightfall the battle raged
with unexampled fury,--a perfect hurricane of shell tore up the earth
and scattered death on all sides, while the storm of musketry mowed down
the opposing ranks. Maney's Brigade did the most brilliant fighting of
the day. It was in the charge by which the Federal Battery was captured
that Major-General Jackson of the Federal Army was killed.

It was shortly after noon that the battle began with a sudden crash
followed by a prolonged roar. I was resting at the time in the woods,
discussing questions of theology with the Rev. Dr. Joseph Cross, a
Wesleyan chaplain whom I had first met on the march into Kentucky. I
sprang to my horse at once and said to him: "Let us go! There will be
work enough for us presently!" He mounted his horse and followed me up a
hill where we paused in full view of the enemy's line. I dismounted and
sat down in the shelter of a large tree, saying as I did so: "You better
get off your horse! The enemy is training a battery this way and there
will be a shell here in a short time!"

Scarcely were the warning words uttered than a shell struck the tree
twenty feet above my head and a shower of wooden splinters fell about
me. I jumped into my saddle again and rode at full speed down the hill,
followed by my friend, who shouted with laughter at what he called my
resemblance to an enormous bird in flight, with my long coat-skirts like
wings lying horizontal on the air. When he overtook me at the creek, I
said to him: "This is the place. You will remain with me and I shall
give you something more serious to do than laughing at a flying
buzzard." Dr. Cross assisted me that fearful day. We met many times
subsequently during the war and afterwards, I ordained him deacon and
priest, and he was for a time on my staff of clergy in the Diocese of
Tennessee.

When the wounded were brought to the rear, at three o'clock in the
afternoon, I took my place as a surgeon on Chaplain's Creek, and
throughout the rest of the day and until half past five the next
morning, without food of any sort, I was incessantly occupied with the
wounded. It was a horrible night I spent,--God save me from such
another. I suppose excitement kept me up. About half past five in the
morning of the 9th, I dropped,--I could do no more. I went out by myself
and leaning against a fence, I wept like a child. And all that day I was
so unnerved that if any one asked me about the regiment, I could make no
reply without tears. Having taken off my shirt to tear into strips to
make bandages, I took a severe cold.

The total loss of the Confederates, (whose force numbered of all arms
only 16,000), was 510 killed, 2,635 wounded and 251 captured or missing,
and of this loss a great part was sustained by our regiment. How well I
remember the wounded men! One of the Rock City Guard, brought to me
mortally wounded, cried out: "Oh, Doctor, I have been praying ever since
I was shot that I might be brought to you." One of the captains was
wounded mortally, it was thought at first, but it was afterwards learned
that the ball which struck him in the side, instead of passing through
his body, had passed around under the integuments. Lieutenant Woolridge
had both eyes shot out and still lives. A stripling of fifteen years
fell in the battle apparently dead, shot through the neck and
collar-bone, but is still living. Lieutenant-Colonel Patterson was
killed at his side. The latter was wounded in the arm early in the
action. He bound his handkerchief around his arm and in the most gallant
and dashing style urged his men forward until a grape shot struck him in
the face killing him instantly.

Two days after the battle I went to the enemy's line with a flag of
truce. And the following day General Polk, (who had won the hearts of
the whole army), asked me to go with him to the church in Harrodsburg. I
obtained the key and as we entered the holy house, I think that we both
felt that we were in the presence of God. General Polk threw his arms
about my neck and said: "Oh, for the blessed days when we walked in the
house of God as friends! Let us have prayer!"

I vested myself with surplice and stole and entered the sanctuary. The
General knelt at the altar railing. I said the Litany, used proper
prayers and supplications, and then turned to the dear Bishop and
General and pronounced the benediction from the office for the
visitation of the sick. "Unto God's gracious mercy and protection I
commit thee. The Lord bless thee and keep thee. The Lord make His face
to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up the light
of His countenance upon thee and give thee peace, both now and evermore.
Amen."

The Bishop bowed his head upon the railing and wept like a child on its
mother's breast. Shortly after this service, General Kirby-Smith begged
me that he might go to the church with me, so I returned, and he too was
refreshed at God's altar.

General Kirby-Smith was a most remarkable character. A few years later
it was my pleasure to have him as one of my neighbors at Sewanee,
Tennessee, where he did much towards making the University of the South
what it is. He was kindly, big-hearted, and no man was a better friend.
He was a very devoted communicant of the church, and during the war,
whenever opportunity offered, he held services and officiated as
lay-reader. In an epidemic of cholera at Nashville, some years after the
war, he was called upon to say the burial office over his own rector who
had died of the dread disease. He entered upon his duties in the
University of the South in 1875, as Professor of Mathematics and gave a
great deal of attention to botany and natural science.

His end on the 28th of March, 1893, was very peaceful. He died as he had
lived--bright, strong in his Christian faith and hope. One of his last
connected utterances was the fourth verse from the twenty-third Psalm.
On Good Friday, the 31st of March, 1893, it was my high privilege to
commit his body to the earth in the cemetery at Sewanee.




                               CHAPTER VI
                    PERSONAL NARRATIVE--MURFREESBORO


After the battle of Perryville, both Bragg and Kirby-Smith were
compelled to retreat by way of Cumberland Gap to Chattanooga. During
this retreat I was in charge of the regiment as surgeon, Dr. Buist
having been left behind to care for our sick and wounded. Every morning
I filled my canteen with whiskey and strapped it to the pommel of my
saddle to help the wearied and broken down to keep up in the march. I
was riding a splendid bay which had been brought from Maury County and
presented to me by the members of the regiment. He was the best saddle
horse I ever rode. One day the colonel commanding the regiment rode up
to me on his old gray nag and said: "Doctor, this horse of mine is very
rough. Would you mind exchanging with me for a little while?"

I was off my horse before he had finished speaking. With a smiling
countenance and a look of great gratitude he mounted my bay and rode off
some hundred yards or more to the front, accompanied by the
lieutenant-colonel, the major and one or two other officers--when they
wheeled and saluted me, the colonel holding aloft my canteen of whiskey
and waving it with great glee, each one taking a drink. When that
canteen was returned to me every drop of the whiskey had disappeared. I
was an "innocent abroad."

From Chattanooga I went to Rome, Georgia, to visit my family and to
obtain some fresh clothing of which I was sorely in need. There were
many hospitals established there and among them was one named for me,
"Quintard Hospital." I spent much of my time in the hospitals, and also
went to Columbus, Georgia, to secure clothing for my regiment. Mr.
Rhodes Brown, President of one of the principal woolen mills in
Columbus, gave me abundant supplies of the very best material. Besides
this generous donation, he gave me a thousand dollars to use as I saw
fit.

After some weeks I rejoined the army which had moved on to Murfreesboro.
On my way up, I met at Stevenson, Alabama, Captain Jack Butler of my
regiment, who informed me that a telegraphic dispatch from General Polk
had just passed over the line ordering me to Murfreesboro. I asked how
he knew it, and he told me that he had caught it as it clicked over the
wire, which seemed very wonderful to me then. Immediately on reaching
Murfreesboro I reported to General Polk and said: "General, I am here in
response to your telegram." He was greatly astonished and asked how it
was possible for me to have made the journey from Rome, Georgia, in so
brief a time.

General Bragg, who was in command at Murfreesboro, was attacked by
Rosecrans on the last day of the year 1862. A great battle resulted and
the fighting continued until the 2d day of January, 1863. I was on the
field dressing the wounded, as usual, when an order came for me to
repair to the hospitals. While crossing the fields on my way to the
hospitals in town, a tremendous shell came flying towards me, and I felt
sure it would strike me in the epigastric region. I leaned down over the
pommel of my saddle and the shell passed far above my head. As I rose to
an upright position, I found that my watchguard had been broken and that
a gold cross which had been suspended from it, was lost. I never
expected to see it again. The next day, a colonel, moving with his
command at "double quick" in line of battle, picked up the cross and
returned it to me the day following. It is still in my possession--a
valued relic of the Battle of Murfreesboro.

As Dr. Buist was still in Perryville, Kentucky, I was practically
surgeon of the regiment. As the wounded of the First Tennessee were
brought in, they always called for me, and it was my high privilege to
attend nearly, if not quite all, the wounded of my regiment. Some of
them were desperately wounded; among these was Bryant House, nicknamed
among the boys, who were artists in bestowing nicknames, "Shanty." He
had been shot through the body. The surgeon into whose hands he had
first fallen told him that it was impossible to extract the ball and
that there was no hope for him. "Well, send for my chaplain," he said,
doubtless thinking that I would offer up a prayer in his behalf. Instead
of that, however, I went in search of the ball with my surgical
instruments, and was successful. "Shanty" died in September, 1895. He
was for years after the war a conductor on the Nashville, Chattanooga
and St. Louis Railway, and took great delight in telling this story.

I continued at work in the hospital located in Soule College until the
army was about to fall back to Shelbyville, when I was sent for by
General Polk, who asked if I would go to Chattanooga in charge of Willie
Huger, whose leg had been amputated at the thigh. He was placed in a box
car with a number of other wounded men and I held the stump of his thigh
in my hands most of the journey. When we reached Chattanooga I was more
exhausted than my patient. I remained with him for some time. The dear
fellow finally recovered, married a daughter of General Polk, and now
resides in New Orleans.

General James E. Rains, a member of my parish in Nashville, fell while
gallantly leading his men at the battle of Murfreesboro. General Hanson
of Kentucky, likewise gave up his life. His last words were: "I am
willing to die with such a wound in so glorious a cause!" Here it was
that Colonel Marks, afterwards Governor of Tennessee, was severely
wounded and lamed for life.

After the first day's fight, General Bragg sent a telegram to Richmond
in the following words: "God has indeed granted us a happy New Year."
But subsequently hearing that Rosecrans was being heavily reinforced
from Nashville, he retired to Shelbyville, carrying with him his
prisoners and the spoils of battle, for the Confederates captured and
carried off 30 cannon, 6,000 small arms, and over 6,000 prisoners,
including those captured by cavalry in the rear of the Union army.
Wheeler's cavalry also captured and burned 800 wagons.




                              CHAPTER VII
                    PERSONAL NARRATIVE--SHELBYVILLE


Having placed Willie Huger in comfortable quarters in Chattanooga and
watched over him as long as I was able to, I returned to the army. At
Shelbyville, I found General Polk's headquarters occupying the grounds
of William Gosling, Esquire. The Gosling family were old friends of mine
and insisted upon my making their house my home. General Polk had his
office in the house. Mrs. Gosling was an ideal housekeeper and made me
feel in every respect at home.

We remained nearly six months in Shelbyville, most of the army being
camped about Tullahoma. Soon after the Battle of Murfreesboro, General
Bragg was removed from the command of the Army of the Tennessee and
General Johnston was sent to Shelbyville.

On the 7th of February, 1863, we had a grand review by General Johnston,
who rode my horse--to me the most interesting item of the review. For I
had seen so much of marching and countermarching that I was tired of it
all--thoroughly disgusted indeed. It was a brilliant pageant,
nevertheless. The troops looked and marched well, and General Johnston
expressed the greatest satisfaction with what he witnessed. He said he
had never seen men he would rather trust.

I found General Johnston a charming man. I was constantly with him at
General Polk's headquarters and enjoyed his visit to the army very much.
He was of perfectly simple manners, of easy and graceful carriage and a
good conversationalist. He had used his utmost endeavor to keep General
Bragg in command of the Army of the Tennessee; though when he was
ordered, in May, to take command of the forces of Mississippi, General
Bragg remarked to me, "Doctor, he was kept here too long to watch me!"
Afterwards in command of the Army of the Tennessee, no man enjoyed a
greater popularity than he did. Soldiers and citizens alike recognized
that General Johnston possessed a solid judgment, invincible firmness,
imperturbable self-reliance and a perseverance which no difficulties
could subdue.

It was my privilege to be frequently with the General after the war and
more and more he entered into the religious life, illustrating in his
daily walk and conversation the highest type of the Christian gentleman.
He was one of the pall-bearers at the funeral of General Sherman at a
time when his health was far from strong. He caught cold and died of
heart failure in March, 1891.

The weather was at times very inclement while we were in Shelbyville and
I suffered much illness. I kept at my work as well as I could, however,
and often I preached before distinguished congregations; as, for
example, when Generals Johnston, Polk, Cheatham and nearly all the
general officers and staffs were present. The congregations were usually
large.

I recall reading with a great deal of zest, one day when the weather was
very inclement and I was by illness kept in the house, a publication
entitled "Robinson Crusoe." Perhaps my readers may have heard of such a
book. And one night in February, General Polk and I remained up until
two o'clock, and the Bishop-General gave me a detailed account of the
manner in which his mind was turned to serious things while he was at
West Point--practically the same story that may be found in Dr. William
M. Polk's recently published life of his father.

On another occasion the General and I were riding out together and he
mentioned the following odd incident to me: His eldest son when at
college in the North purchased a gold-headed walking-stick as a present
to the Bishop. Wishing his name and seal engraved upon it, the son took
it to an engraver in New York, giving him a picture of the Bishop's seal
as published in a Church Almanac. The seal was a simple shield having
for its device a cross in the center, with a crosier and key laid across
it. By some hocus pocus the artist engraved a crosier and a _sword_
instead of the key. The Bishop had the cane still when he told me this,
and I think it was his intention to adopt that device as his seal
thenceforth. But, of course, as we all know, the Bishop's death before
the close of the war prevented his adopting a seal for his future work
in the Episcopate.

It must not be supposed, however, that my time was idly spent in
Shelbyville or in reading such books as "Robinson Crusoe" and listening
to the charming conversation of General Polk and others. On the 2nd of
March, at the request of my fellow-chaplains, General Bragg issued an
order to the effect that I was assigned to duty at the general hospitals
of Polk's corps, and was to proceed to a central point and there
establish my office. With the approval of Medical Officers, I was to
visit the different hospitals, rendering such services and affording
such relief and consolation to the sick and wounded as a minister only
could give.

On my copy of this order was endorsed "Transportation furnished in kind
from Wartrace to Atlanta, Mch. 3, '63." So I went off and was gone
several weeks, visiting my family in Rome, Georgia, before my return. I
made also a trip to Columbia, Tennessee, on business relating to my new
appointment--a distance of forty miles from Shelbyville, over roads none
of the best at that time.

While I was in Rome I received a very characteristic letter from my
friend, Colonel Yeatman, on Polk's staff, which gave me an amusing
account of the services held in Shelbyville on the day appointed by the
President of the Confederate States to be observed as a day of fasting
and prayer. The chaplain of an Alabama regiment preached a very good
sermon, the letter says, and then "your brother ---- wound up with a
prayer--eminently a _war prayer_--in which he prayed that their (the
Yankees') moral sensibilities might be awakened by the 'roar of our
cannon and the gleam of our bayonets and that the _stars and bars_ might
soon wave in triumph through these beleagured states!' and then after
prescribing a course which he desired might be followed by the Lord, he
quit." It is such a good example of the manner in which some persons
attempt to preach to the people while they pray to God, that it is quite
worth quoting here.

The visit of Bishop Elliott, of Georgia, to Shelbyville was a great
event. He arrived on the 23rd of May and was most affectionately
welcomed by his friend General Polk, and remained with us at Mr.
Gosling's house two weeks. Services were held every day and the Bishop
preached. Everywhere he was received most enthusiastically. The
Presbyterian Church in Shelbyville, was by far the largest church
building in the town, and as it was without a pastor at the time, I had
been invited to occupy it and had accepted the very kind invitation. We
accordingly held services there on Sunday, the 24th of May. In the
morning I said the service and the Bishop celebrated the Holy Communion
and preached. In the afternoon the Bishop preached one of his most
eloquent sermons, and I presented a class of ten persons for
confirmation. It included Colonel Yeatman; Colonel Porter (of the Sixth
Tennessee); Major Hoxton, Chief of Artillery on Hardee's staff;
Lieutenant Smith, on General Cheatham's staff; Surgeon Green, (Fourth
Tennessee); four privates of my own regiment; one private of the
Fifty-first Alabama Cavalry; and a lady.

It was a very novel sight to see a large Church crowded in every part
with officers and soldiers. Scarcely a dozen of the gentler sex were to
be seen. The attention of this large body of soldiers was earnest and
like that of men who were thoughtful about their souls.

Being anxious for the Bishop to officiate for my regiment, I made an
appointment with him for the following day, to preach to the brigade
under General George Maney, at their camp. The service was held at the
headquarters of Colonel Porter of the Sixth Regiment. The attendance was
very large and the Bishop said he had never had a more orderly or
attentive congregation in a church. I conducted the service and the
Bishop preached.

On Tuesday I was very unwell but felt it my duty to drive six miles to
the front and visit, with the Bishop, the Brigade of General Manigault,
of South Carolina. He was on outpost duty and was only a few miles from
the pickets of General Rosecrans' army. The service was at five o'clock.
The whole brigade was in attendance, having been marched to the grove
arranged for the service, under arms. I assisted in the service and
undertook to baptize a captain of the Twenty-eighth Alabama, but was
taken ill, and being unable to proceed, the Bishop took my place.

It was a very solemn service indeed. The Captain knelt in the presence
of his brother soldiers and enlisted under the banner of Christ
Crucified. After which the Bishop preached to the assembled officers and
soldiers seated on the ground in concentric circles. It was an admirable
extempore discourse which fell with great effect upon the hearts of all
who heard it.

On returning to Shelbyville, I betook myself to bed, and using proper
remedies, I had a comfortable night. The following day, I fasted and
lounged about headquarters. Mr. Vallandigham, who had been sent to us by
the Federal authorities because of what were regarded as disloyal
utterances made in political speeches in Ohio, dined with us, and my
great desire to see him gave me strength to endure a long sitting at
table, though I ate nothing.

Mr. Vallandigham was altogether a different man from what I had
expected. He was about my own age and height, had remarkably fine
features, a frank, open countenance, beautiful teeth and a color
indicating very high health. He wore no side-whiskers nor moustache but
a beard slightly tinged with gray, on his chin. In manner he was
extremely easy and polite; in conversation very fluent and entertaining.
He was greatly pleased with the kind reception he had met from the
officers of the army and the citizens of Shelbyville, but was very
desirous of avoiding all public demonstration.

On Thursday morning, feeling much better, I accompanied Bishop Elliott
to Wartrace, the headquarters of General Hardee. General Polk and
Colonel Richmond accompanied us. Later Colonel Yeatman brought Mr.
Vallandigham over in General Polk's ambulance and we had a "goodlie
companie." At eleven o'clock we held a service in the Presbyterian
Church, the use of which was kindly tendered me. There was a large
congregation, consisting of officers, soldiers and ladies. The Bishop
read part of the morning service and I preached an extempore sermon. I
had not expected to say anything, but the Bishop having declined to
preach, I was determined not to disappoint the congregation altogether.
And I had great reason to be thankful that I did preach, for it gave me
the opportunity to have a long and very delightful conversation with
General Hardee about confirmation. In the afternoon, services were to
have been held for the brigades of General Wood and General Lucius Polk,
but rain coming on, and the services having been arranged for the open
air, it was thought best to postpone them to a future occasion.

The train that evening brought a very agreeable addition to our party in
the person of Lieutenant-Colonel Freemantle of the Coldstream Guard of
the British Army. The Guard was the oldest regiment in the British
service. Colonel Freemantle was only about eight and twenty, and was on
furlough,--just taking a hasty tour through the Confederacy to look at
our army and become acquainted with our officers. He was very
intelligent and very companionable. His grandfather and his father were
adjutants of the Coldstream Guard, and he had held the same office. His
family was an ancient and honorable one, and he seemed worthy to wear
his ancestral honors. He accompanied General Polk and myself to
Shelbyville the next day, and was for a while the General's guest. He
had left England three months before and had come into the Confederacy
by way of Texas.

The following Sunday I held services again in the Presbyterian Church at
Shelbyville, preached to a crowded congregation, and presented another
class to the Bishop for confirmation. In the afternoon we drove to
Wartrace where I said Evening Prayer at the headquarters of General
Wood, and the Bishop preached to an immense concourse. Between four and
five thousand persons were present and the services were most impressive
and solemn.

On Monday morning, (June 1st), we attended a review of General Liddell's
brigade. After the review, General Hardee had the brigade formed in a
hollow square and the Bishop addressed it briefly upon the religious
aspects of the struggle in which we were engaged.

A memorable incident of Bishop Elliott's visit to our army was General
Bragg's baptism and confirmation. As soon as I found that the Bishop was
able to give us a visit, I made very earnest appeals to the officers and
soldiers of our army to confess Christ before men. But there was one man
in the army whom I felt I could never get at. He was the
Commander-in-chief, General Braxton Bragg. He had the reputation of
being so stern and so sharp in his sarcasm, that many men were afraid to
go near him. Yet I had often thought of him in connection with my work.
He never came to the Holy Communion, and I never heard of his being a
member of any religious denomination.

Immediately after I received notice of Bishop Elliott's proposed visit,
I determined to have a talk with General Bragg. It was late one
afternoon when I started for his headquarters. I found two tents and a
sentry at the outer one, and when I asked for General Bragg the sentry
said: "You cannot see him. He is very busy, and has given positive
orders not to be disturbed, except for a matter of life and death."

That cooled my enthusiasm and I returned to my own quarters; but all the
night long I blamed myself for my timidity.

The next day I started out again, found the same sentry and received the
same reply. This time, however, I was resolved to see the General, no
matter what happened, so I said:

"It _is_ a matter of life and death."

The sentry withdrew and in a few minutes returned and said: "You can see
the General, but I advise you to be brief. He is not in a good humour."

This chilled me, but I went in. I found the General dictating to two
secretaries. He met me with: "Well, Dr. Quintard, what can I do for you?
I am quite busy, as you see."

I stammered out that I wanted to see him alone. He replied that it was
impossible, but I persisted. Finally he dismissed the secretaries,
saying to me rather sternly: "Your business must be of grave importance,
sir."

I was very much frightened, but I asked the General to be seated, and
then, fixing my eyes upon a knot-hole in the pine board floor of the
tent, talked about our Blessed Lord, and about the responsibilities of a
man in the General's position. When I looked up after a while I saw
tears in the General's eyes and took courage to ask him to be confirmed.
At last he came to me, took both my hands in his and said: "I have been
waiting for twenty years to have some one say this to me, and I thank
you from my heart. Certainly, I shall be confirmed if you will give me
the necessary instruction."

I had frequent interviews with him subsequently on the subject and he
was baptized and confirmed. The latter service took place in
Shelbyville, on the afternoon of our return from Wartrace. Wishing to
make the usual record, I asked the General to give me the names of his
parents and the date of his birth. In reply he sent me the following
note:

    My dear Doctor: I was born in the town of Warrenton, Warren County,
    North Carolina, on the 21st of June, 1817, son of Thomas Bragg and
    Margaret Crossland, his wife. Though too late in seeking, [but not,]
    I hope, in obtaining the pardon offered to all who penitently
    confess, I trust time will yet be allowed me to prove the sincerity
    with which I have at last undertaken the task. For the kindness and
    consideration of yourself and the good and venerable Bishop, for
    whom my admiration has ever been very great, I shall never cease to
    be grateful. My mind has never been so much at ease, and I feel
    renewed strength for the task before me.

    Faithfully yours,

    BRAXTON BRAGG.

Toward the end of our stay in Shelbyville, it was my privilege to assist
in getting two ladies through the enemy's lines. The Rev. Mr. Clark,
rector of St. Paul's Church, Augusta, Georgia, had been appointed by the
Bishop of Georgia, a Missionary to the Army,--that is, a sort of
Chaplain under diocesan control and for whose support the Confederate
Government was in no way responsible. The plan was intended to continue
the work which the Bishop had begun by his visit to our army. Mr. Clark
desired to send his mother and sister to Nashville, and communicating
with me in advance, I made all necessary arrangements for their transit
through the lines before they arrived in our camp at Shelbyville. I
obtained a pass from General Bragg and his permission for Mr. Edmund
Cooper, of Shelbyville, to write such letters to Federal officers as he
saw fit. Mr. Cooper was in a position to be of great service to us, for
although a Union man and afterwards private secretary to President
Johnson and Assistant Secretary of the United States Treasury, his
brothers were in the Confederate Army. He accordingly gave us letters to
General Rosecrans and Governor Andrew Johnson. General Wheeler wrote to
Colonel Webb, in command of our outposts, requesting him to do all in
his power for the welfare of the party.

In the morning the two ladies, accompanied by the Rev. Mr. Clark, my old
class-mate Dr. Frank Stanford, then General Wheeler's Medical Director,
and myself, left Shelbyville in a fine four-horse ambulance. On our way
"to the front," nine miles out, we reached General Martin's
headquarters, where our passports were examined and approved. Three
miles further on, we reached Colonel Webb, who gave us a note to
Lieutenant Spence of the outer picket, still three miles further in
advance. Lieutenant Spence conducted us to a house where we were kindly
received and made to feel quite at home. He sent one of his scouts
forward to the residence of Colonel Lytle, two miles further on in the
"neutral ground," to inform him of our arrival and to take letters to
him from Mr. Cooper and myself asking his assistance in conveying the
ladies through the enemy's lines.

About two o'clock Colonel and Mrs. Lytle arrived in their carriage. The
latter kindly offered to accompany the ladies through the Federal lines
to the house of a friend where they could remain until they could
communicate with General Rosecrans. At this point we made our adieus and
on returning to camp stopped for dinner at Colonel, (afterward General)
Strahl's headquarters. The day was a pleasant one and the whole party
was greatly pleased with the trip. The Rev. Mr. Clark remained with me
over the following Sunday and held services for one of our regiments.




                              CHAPTER VIII
                 PERSONAL NARRATIVE--A DRAMATIC EPISODE


A short time before we left Shelbyville I was a participant in one of
the most solemn, and at the same time one of the most dramatic, scenes
of my whole life.

I was requested one day by General Polk to visit two men who were
sentenced to be shot within a few days for desertion. One of them
belonged to the Nineteenth Tennessee Regiment and the other to the
Eighth Tennessee. The former was a man forty-seven years of age, the
latter not more than twenty-three.

I cannot describe the feelings which oppressed me on my first visit in
compliance with the General's request. I urged upon both men, with all
the powers of my persuasion, an attention to the interests of their
souls. The younger man was, I believe, really in earnest in endeavouring
to prepare for death, but the other seemed to have no realizing sense of
his condition. I found that the younger man had a Cumberland
Presbyterian minister for a Chaplain for whom I sent and who would
minister to him.

I called upon Governor Harris and begged him to see the judges of the
Court and find if there was any possibility of having the men pardoned.
I never begged so hard for anything in my life as for the lives of these
men. I had a special sympathy for the older man, for he had deserted to
visit his wife and children. However, the day came for their execution.

The Cumberland Presbyterian Chaplain baptized the man belonging to his
regiment. I remained in town the night preceding the day appointed for
the execution, and from eight o'clock to nine, the Cumberland
Presbyterian Chaplain and myself engaged in prayer privately in behalf
of the condemned men.

At seven in the morning I gave them the most comfortable Sacrament of
Christ's Body and Blood. Both prisoners seemed deeply and profoundly
penitent and to be very much in earnest in preparing for death. The room
in which they were confined was a very mean and uncleanly one. Half the
window was boarded up, and the light struggled through the dirt that
begrimed the other half. But the Sacrament Itself and the thought that
the prisoners would so soon be in Eternity, made it all very solemn. The
prisoners made an effort to give themselves up to God, and seemed to
feel that this was the occasion for bidding farewell to earth and
earthly things. I pronounced the benediction, placing my hand upon the
head of each, and commending them to the mercy of God.

At eight o'clock, the older man, to whom I was to minister in his last
moments, was taken from his cell, ironed hand and feet. He was placed in
an ambulance, surrounded by a guard, and we started for the brigade of
Colonel Strahl, seven miles out of town. On reaching Strahl's
headquarters, the prisoner was placed in a room and closely guarded
until the hour fixed for his execution,--one o'clock,--should arrive. A
squad of twenty-four men was marched into the yard, and stacking arms,
was marched off in order that the guns might be loaded by an
officer,--one half with blank cartridges.

Leaving headquarter preceded by a wagon bearing the prisoner's coffin
and followed by the squad which was to do the execution, we arrived on
the ground precisely at one o'clock. The brigade was drawn up on three
sides of a square. Colonel Strahl and his staff; Captain Stanford; Major
Jack, General Polk's Adjutant; and Captain Spence of General Polk's
staff, rode forward with me. A grave had been dug. The coffin was placed
beside the grave, the prisoner was seated on it and I took my place by
his side. Captain Johnston, Colonel Strahl's Adjutant, advanced and read
the sentence of the Court and the approval of the General. The prisoner
was then informed that if he wished to make any remarks, he had now an
opportunity. He requested me to cut off a lock of his hair and preserve
it for his wife. He then stood up and said: "I am about to die. I hope I
am going to a better world. I trust that one and all of my companions
will take warning by my fate."

He seated himself on his coffin again and I began the Psalm: "Out of the
deep have I called unto Thee, O Lord," and after that the "Comfortable
words." We then knelt down together, and I said the Confession from the
Communion Office. Then I turned to the office for the Visitation of
Prisoners, and used the prayer beginning, "O Father of Mercies and God
of all Comfort," and so on down to the benediction, "Unto God's gracious
mercy and protection I commit you." I then shook hands with him and
said: "Be a man! It will soon be over!"

The firing squad was in position, the guns were cocked, the order had
been given to "take aim," when Major Jack rode forward and read "Special
Order, No. 132," the purport of which was that since the sentence of the
Court-martial and order for the execution of the prisoner, facts and
circumstances with regard to the history and character of the man had
come to the knowledge of the Lieutenant-General Commanding which in his
judgment palliated the offence of desertion of which the man had been
condemned and warranted a suspension of his execution. The sentence of
death was therefore annulled, and the man was pardoned and ordered to
report to his regiment for duty.

The poor fellow did not understand it at first, but when the truth burst
upon him, he exclaimed: "Thank God! thank God!" and the tears streamed
down his face. The whole scene was most impressive, and was calculated
to have a good effect upon all who were present. The other prisoner was
executed at high noon in another locality.




                               CHAPTER IX
                    PERSONAL NARRATIVE--CHICKAMAUGA


On the last day of June, 1863, Rosecrans began to advance on Bragg. That
was the signal for our leaving Shelbyville. On the 3rd of July the Union
army entered Tullahoma.

On the morning of the 2nd, as I left the headquarters of General Bragg,
I met my friend Governor Isham G. Harris. He looked very bright and
cheerful and said to me: "To-morrow morning you will be roused up by the
thunder of our artillery." But instead of being thus aroused I found
myself in full retreat toward Winchester. Thence I rode to Cowan, where
I found General Bragg and his staff, and General Polk with his staff. I
rode up to them and said to General Bragg: "My dear General, I am afraid
you are thoroughly outdone."

"Yes," he said, "I am utterly broken down." And then leaning over his
saddle he spoke of the loss of Middle Tennessee and whispered: "This is
a great disaster."

I said to him: "General, don't be disheartened, our turn will come
next."

I found Colonel Walters, his Adjutant-General, lying in the corner of a
rail fence, with his hands under his head, looking the very picture of
despair. I said to him; "My dear Colonel, what is the matter with you?"
His reply was: "How can you ask such a question, when you know as well
as I do what has happened?"

Our troops were at this time moving rapidly across the Sewanee Mountain,
over country which subsequently became very familiar to me in times of
peace. I said to him; "My dear Colonel, I am afraid you've not read the
Psalms for the day." "No," he answered. "What do they say?"

I replied in the words of the first verse of the Eleventh Psalm: "In the
Lord put I my trust; how say ye then to my soul, that she should flee as
a bird unto the hill?"

I gave my horse to one of "the boys," and at the request of General
Bragg, I accompanied him by rail to Chattanooga. On the 21st of August,
a day appointed by the President of the Confederate States for fasting,
humiliation and prayer, while I was preaching in a church, the Union
army appeared opposite Chattanooga and began shelling the town. I think
my sermon on that occasion was not long. Early in September, General
McCook and General Thomas moved in such a way as to completely flank the
Confederate position. General Bragg immediately began his retreat
southward, and having been joined by General Longstreet and his forces,
attacked General Thomas at Lee and Gordon's Mills, twelve miles south of
Chattanooga, on the 19th of September. It was a bitter fight, but the
day closed without any decisive results to either side.

After this the great battle of Chickamauga was fought. Undoubtedly
General Thomas saved the Union army from utter ruin, but Longstreet, by
his prompt action in seizing an opportunity, won the victory for the
Confederate army.

The troops led by Brigadier-General Archibald Gracie fired the last gun
and stormed the last strong position held by the enemy at the battle of
Chickamauga, and so memorable was his conduct on that day, that the
people in that vicinity have given the hill the name of Gracie Hill. It
was a great privilege to know General Gracie as I did. He was a
character that old Froissart would have delighted to paint. Chivalrous
as a Bayard, he had all the tenderness of a woman. A warrior by nature
as well as a soldier by education, (he graduated at West Point in 1852,)
and profession, he had a horror of shedding blood and would almost shed
tears in the hour of victory over the thin ranks of his brigade. A few
months before his death he became a communicant of the Church.

One great personal loss I sustained in the battle of Chickamauga was
that of my dear friend, Colonel W. B. Richmond, a member of General
Polk's staff. He was a true friend, a thoroughly well rounded character
and a most gallant soldier. He was the Treasurer of the Diocese of
Tennessee, before the war.

Brigadier-General Helm of Kentucky was killed at Chickamauga, as was
also Brigadier-General Preston Smith. Among the dead was my cousin,
Captain Thomas E. King, of Roswell, Georgia, who had sufficiently
recovered from his fearful wounds at the first battle of Manassas, to
act as honorary aide-de-camp to General Smith. Here also General Hood
lost a leg.

The day after the battle I was sent to the field with one hundred and
fifty ambulances to gather up the wounded. It was a sad duty. I saw many
distressing sights. I was directed to convey the Federal wounded to the
Field Hospitals fitted up by the Federal surgeons that had been captured
to the number of not less than fifty, I think. I labored all the day and
at nightfall I came upon a wretched hut into which a half dozen wounded
men had dragged themselves. I found there among them, a young fellow
about seventeen years of age. He had a severe wound in his leg and a
small bone had been torn away. I chatted with him pleasantly for a while
and promised to take him to the hospital early the next morning.

Early the next day when I went to fulfill my promise, I saw a surgeon's
amputating knife on the head of a barrel by the door of the hut, and
found that my young friend had been weeping bitterly. When I asked him
what was the matter, he replied: "The surgeon has been examining my
wound and says that my leg must be amputated. I would not care for
myself, but my poor mother--" and then he burst into an agony of tears.

"Nonsense!" I said to him. "They shall not take off your leg." And
lifting him up bodily, I placed him in an ambulance and took him to the
Hospital, where the next day I found him bright and cheerful. I learned
subsequently that the "surgeon" who was about to amputate his leg
unnecessarily, was a doctor who had come up from Georgia to get a little
practice in that line. The boy subsequently became a railway conductor
and used to say many years later, "You know I belong to Bishop Quintard.
He saved my leg and perhaps my life at Chickamauga. The leg young
Saw-bones was going to amputate is now as good as the other."

Another warm friend of mine, John Marsh, was horribly wounded at the
battle of Chickamauga; so sorely wounded that he could not be removed
from the field. A tent was erected over him and I nursed him until he
was in a condition to be taken to the hospital. On the 1st of October, I
obtained leave of absence from my duties as Chaplain of Polk's corps,
volunteered my services as an Assistant Surgeon, was assigned to duty as
such at Marietta, Georgia, and reported as promptly as possible to
Surgeon D. D. Saunders, who was in charge of the hospitals at that post.

I took Marsh with me and there he slowly recovered his health. I
prepared him for baptism and it was my great pleasure to baptize him and
present him to Bishop Elliott for confirmation. When he was to be
baptized, knowing that it would be painful for him to kneel because of
his recent and scarcely healed wounds, I told him that he might sit in
his chair. "No," he said. "Let me kneel; let me kneel." And so he knelt,
as I placed upon his brow the sign of the cross.

Our victory was complete at Chickamauga and Rosecrans' army threw down
their arms and retreated pell-mell in the direction of Chattanooga. The
Confederates followed on the 21st of September and took possession of
Missionary Ridge and Lookout Mountain. For two months the two armies
confronted each other at Chattanooga.

Matters remained quiet in both armies until November, when the
Confederate lines extended around Chattanooga from the mouth of
Chattanooga Creek above, to Moccasin Point below the town. To my great
regret, General Polk was relieved of his command on the 29th of
September, in consequence of a misunderstanding with General Bragg, the
Commanding General. His application for a Court of Inquiry was dismissed
and a month later he was assigned to a new field of duty, alike
important and difficult--the best evidence that President Davis could
offer of his appreciation of the Bishop-General's past services and of
his expectations of his future career.

It was while we were in Chattanooga, before the battle of Chickamauga,
that the "Order of the Southern Cross" was organized. There came to
General Polk's headquarters, (on whose staff I was serving,) several
officers, who stated that they had been considering the propriety if not
the necessity of instituting an organization within the army, both
social and charitable in its character, whose aim would be as a military
brotherhood, to foster patriotic sentiment, to strengthen the ties of
army fellowship and at the same time to provide a fund, not only for the
mutual benefit of its members, but for the relief of disabled soldiers
and the widows and orphans of such as might perish in the Confederate
service.

They requested Bishop Polk to attend a meeting that evening to consider
the subject further, and he finding it inconvenient to attend, asked me
to go as his representative. So I went. Some six or eight of us met at
Tyne's Station, about nine miles northwest of Chattanooga. After
sufficient discussion and explanation to bring us to a common
understanding of the purposes of the proposed order, General Pat
Cleburne, General John C. Brown, General Liddell and myself were
appointed a committee to draft a constitution and plan of organization.
We met every day, I think, for a week or ten days, and the outcome of
our labors was a little pamphlet, in appearance similar to the
catechisms of our Sunday School days. It was in fact three by five
inches in size, contained twenty-five pages and was from the press of
Burke, Boykin & Co., Macon, Georgia. It was entitled "Constitution of
the Comrades of the Southern Cross, adopted August 28, 1863."

Several "companies" were at once organized and but for the unfavorable
course of events, I do not doubt that the order would have rapidly
extended throughout the armies of the Confederacy. But active military
operations were very soon afterward begun, and the army was kept
constantly on the move until the "bottom dropped out," and the "Order of
the Southern Cross"--like the Southern Confederacy--went to pieces. The
Confederate Veterans' Organization subsequently embodied some of the
features which it was intended that the Comrades of the Southern Cross
should possess.




                               CHAPTER X
                      PERSONAL NARRATIVE--ATLANTA


General Bragg was defeated by General Grant at Chattanooga in November
1863, and early in the following month he was, at his own request,
relieved of the command of the Confederate army. He was called to
Richmond to act for a while as military adviser to President Davis. His
life subsequent to the war was quiet. He was a God-fearing man in peace
and in war. He died in 1876.

He was succeeded in the command by General Joseph E. Johnston, whose
army was encamped in and around Atlanta. Soon afterward I secured the
use of a Methodist Church building on the corner of Garnet and Forsyth
Streets, assembled a congregation, held services and instituted a work
which resulted in the establishment of St. Luke's Parish.

A suitable lot was soon obtained and with the help of men detailed from
the army, a building was speedily erected. It was a most attractive
building, handsomely furnished, and although somewhat "Confederate" in
style, would have compared favorably with most churches built in the
days of peace and prosperity.

Within its portals devout worshippers,--many distinguished Confederate
officers among them,--were delighted to turn aside from the bloody
strife of war and bow themselves before the Throne of Grace.

On the 8th of May, 1864, while I was in Atlanta in charge of St. Luke's
Church and in attendance upon the hospitals, the following telegram came
to me from Major Henry Hampton: "Can't you come up tomorrow? General
Hood wishes to be baptized." It was impossible for me to go, but it was
a great pleasure for me to learn afterwards that General Polk arrived
with his staff that day and that night he baptized his brother General.
It was the eve of an expected battle. It was a touching sight, we may be
sure,--the one-legged veteran, leaning upon his crutches to receive the
waters of baptism and the sign of the cross. A few nights later, General
Polk baptized General Johnston and Lieutenant-General Hardee, General
Hood being witness. These were two of the four ecclesiastical acts
performed by Bishop Polk after receiving his commission in the army.

I was then Chaplain-at-Large under the appointment of the General
Commanding. Being anxious for the Bishop of Georgia to consecrate the
new church, I arranged for him to visit that portion of the army then at
Dalton. At Dalton I baptized Brigadier-General Strahl in his camp in the
presence of his assembled brigade, and at night we held services in the
Methodist Church at Dalton.

The church was so densely packed that it was impossible for Bishop
Elliott and myself to enter by the front door. Fortunately there was a
small door in the rear of the Church, opening into what I should call
the Chancel. We were obliged to vest ourselves in the open air. I
crawled through the little doorway first, and then taking the Bishop by
his right hand, did all I could to help him through.

I read Evening Prayer and the Bishop preached; after which I presented a
class for confirmation in which were General Hardee, General Strahl, two
other Generals, a number of officers of the line and many privates.

The next day I accompanied the Bishop to Marietta where he held an
ordination service at which I preached the sermon. And the day following
he consecrated to the service of Almighty God, St. Luke's Church,
Atlanta. In the afternoon of that day I presented a class of five
persons to the Bishop for confirmation,--the first-fruits of my labors
in St. Luke's parish.

It was about this time that I prepared some little books adapted to the
use of the soldiers as a convenient substitute for the Book of Common
Prayer. I also prepared a booklet, entitled, "Balm for the Weary and
Wounded." It was through the great kindness and generosity of Mr. Jacob
K. Sass, the treasurer of the General Council of the Church in the
Confederate States, that I was enabled to publish these two little
volumes. The first four copies of the latter booklet that came from the
press were forwarded to General Polk and he wrote upon three of them the
names of General J. E. Johnston, Lieutenant-General Hardee and
Lieutenant-General Hood, respectively, and "With the compliments of
Lieutenant-General Leonidas Polk, June 12, 1864." They were taken from
the breastpocket of his coat, stained with his blood, after his death,
and forwarded to the officers for whom he had intended them.

On the 14th of June, I telegraphed to General Polk from Atlanta that I
would visit him at his headquarters and give him the Blessed Sacrament.
Two telegrams came to me that day. One was from Major Mason and read as
follows: "Lieutenant-General Polk's remains leave here on the 12 o'clock
train and will go directly through to Augusta." The other was as
follows: "To the Rev. Dr. Quintard, Atlanta, Georgia. Lieutenant-General
Polk was killed to-day by a cannon ball. His body goes down to Atlanta
to-day. Be at the depot to meet it and watch the trains. Douglass West,
A. A. G." I was never more shocked and overwhelmed.

On reaching Atlanta the body of the dead Bishop and General was escorted
to St. Luke's Church, and placed in front of the altar. He was dressed
in his gray uniform. On his breast rested a cross of white roses and
beside his casket lay his sword.

Throughout the following morning, thousands of soldiers and citizens
came to pay their last tribute of affection. At noon, assisted by the
Rev. John W. Beckwith, of Demopolis, (afterwards Bishop of Georgia), I
held funeral services and made an address. The body was then escorted to
the railway station by the dead General's personal staff, together with
General G. W. Smith, General Wright, General Ruggles, General Reynolds,
Colonel Ewell and many officers of the army, soldiers and citizens, and
a committee representing the city of Atlanta.

At Augusta the body remained two days at St. Paul's Church and lay in
state at the City Hall until St. Peter's day, June 29th, when the final
rites were held in St. Paul's Church. The Bishops of Georgia,
Mississippi and Arkansas officiated. The sermon was by the Bishop of
Georgia. The burial was in the chancel of the church.

Bishop Polk's was the first funeral to take place in St. Luke's Church,
Atlanta. There was but one other, that of a child named after and
baptized by Bishop Elliott, for whom Bishop Polk had stood as sponsor
but a short time before.

In August, 1864, I was in Macon, Georgia, not knowing precisely what to
do or where to go. The times were very distressing. I took charge of the
church and parish in Macon for the rector who had been sick but was
slowly recovering. This was in accordance with a letter from the Bishop
of Georgia, who had written me about the middle of the previous month,
that I had been sadly tossed about and needed rest and that I might go
to Macon for that purpose. But a few days later I was with Bishop Lay of
Arkansas, in Atlanta, and with the army again, though compelled to go on
Sundays to Macon to officiate for the sick rector at that place.

I remained at General Hood's headquarters in Atlanta, expecting to move
with the General into Tennessee. The city was being shelled by the
Federals, and some of the shells fell very thickly about the General's
headquarters. I thought the locality seemed very unhealthy, but as the
General and his staff did not seem in the least disturbed, Bishop Lay
and I concluded that everything was going on all right according to the
art of war and we stood it with the best of them. On one particular day
when more shells were thrown than in all the other days put together,
there were, strange to say, no casualties.

On the 10th of August, at headquarters, I presented a class to Bishop
Lay for confirmation. It included General Hood and some officers of his
staff. In speaking to me the night before his confirmation, the General
said: "Doctor, I have two objects in life that engage my supreme regard.
One is to do all I can for my country. The other is to be ready and
prepared for death whenever God shall call me."

Learning that St. Luke's Church had been injured in the bombardment of
the city, Bishop Lay and I made a visit to it. We looked in wonder at
the sight that met our eyes upon our entering the sacred edifice. One of
the largest shells had torn through the side of the building and struck
the prayer desk on which the large Bible happened to be lying. The
prayer desk was broken and the Bible fell under it and upon the shell so
as apparently to smother it and prevent its exploding. I lifted up the
Bible and removed the shell and gathered up all the prayer books I could
find for the soldiers in the camps.

Before leaving the church I sat in one of the seats for a few moments
and thought of the dear friends who had assisted in the building of the
church, and who had offered up the sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving
in that place; of the Bishop who had but a short time before consecrated
it; of the Bishop-General over whom I had said the burial service there;
of the now scattered flock and the utter desolation of God's house. As I
rose to go, I picked up a handkerchief that had been dropped there at
the child's funeral, which was the last service held there. I wrote a
little story subsequently about "Nellie Peters' Pocket Handkerchief, and
What It Saw," and it was published in the columns of the "Church
Intelligencer."

This was the last time I visited St. Luke's Church of which I have such
tender memories. It was destroyed in the "burning of Atlanta."

On the 6th of September, 1864, a general pass was issued to me by order
of General Hood and signed by General F. A. Shoup, his Chief of Staff.
This pass is an interesting relic of my early associations with one who
subsequent to the war came under my jurisdiction as a priest of the
Church when I was Bishop of Tennessee. He married a daughter of Bishop
Elliott, took orders in the Church, so distinguished himself in the
ministry as to receive the degree of Doctor of Divinity, and was for a
long time my neighbor at Sewanee, where he was a Professor in The
University of the South.




                               CHAPTER XI
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE--COLUMBUS (GEORGIA) AND THE JOURNEY INTO TENNESSEE


When the fall of Atlanta seemed imminent, General Johnston advised me to
remove my family from the city and I decided to go to Columbus, Georgia.
The rector of Trinity Church in that town was ill, and the Bishop of
Georgia appointed me a Missionary to the Army, at a stipend of $3,000
per year, to be paid as long as the churches in Georgia remained open,
and to be continued to me while I was in Columbus and while the Rev. Mr.
Hawks, rector of Trinity Church, was ill. My appointment was
subsequently made that of Permanent Missionary to the Army.

So in October, 1864, I rented a very comfortable house two miles from
town, for which I paid rent in advance for nine months--twenty-five
hundred dollars, Confederate money. But everything seemed to be on the
same generous scale, for when on the Sunday after my arrival, I preached
in Trinity Church, the offerings for the poor amounted to one thousand
dollars. We met with great cordiality from all the people of the town,
especially from Mr. J. Rhodes Brown, who placed me under great
obligations by his kindness.

We met in Columbus the musical prodigy, "Blind Tom," who belonged to one
of our neighbors, General Bethune. I had heard him in a public
performance two years previously in Richmond. I was calling on the
Bethunes one day, and on hearing my voice, Tom came into the parlor and
in the most uncouth way paid his respects to the ladies and myself. He
was not as much as usual in the humor for playing, having already spent
four hours at the piano that day for the amusement of some cavalrymen
who had visited him. Nevertheless he cheerfully sat down to the piano
and gave us some delightful music, and sang us some French songs, in
which his powers of mimicry were wonderfully displayed. His playing was
most marvellous. It seemed as though inspired. He was then a lad of
fifteen. His musical talents were exhibited in his earliest childhood.

During all the month of October I was in constant attendance upon the
sick and wounded in the hospitals of Columbus and holding daily
religious services in my capacity of Missionary to the Army. My
brother-in-law, Dr. H. M. Anderson, having been ordered to Selma with
the Polk Hospital to which he was attached, spent a week with me and did
much to assist me in my medical services. Greatly to my satisfaction he
afterwards received orders to report for duty to the hospitals in
Columbus.

One day, at the Carnes Hospital, in the presence of a large number of
surgeons and convalescents, I baptized an infant. That day was made ever
memorable by the generous donation of my friend, Mr. J. Rhodes Brown,
who handed me a thousand dollars to be appropriated to the purchase of
reading matter for the army. He also presented me with a pair of
blankets for my own use, and subsequently with three hundred yards of
excellent cloth to clothe my regiment. To this he thoughtfully added
buttons, thread and lining and three hundred pairs of socks. The cloth
at that time was valued at forty-five dollars a yard. "The liberal soul
shall be made fat."

About the middle of October, General G. P. T. Beauregard assumed command
of the Military Division East of the Mississippi River, including the
Department of Tennessee and Georgia commanded by General Hood, who,
however, was to retain command of his department. On assuming command,
General Beauregard published an address to his army in excellent tone
and taste, promising a forward movement. It caused great enthusiasm. The
General was very popular with his troops and his name was a tower of
strength.

On the 8th of November, Captain Wickham informed me that he would leave
for the army on the morrow and I immediately made my arrangements to
accompany him. Leaving Columbus on a freight train, after a long and
wearying journey we reached Montgomery, Alabama, and found
accommodations, or what passed for such, in the topmost story of the
principal hotel. While in Montgomery I dined at Dr. Scott's in company
with a number of Tennessee friends, among whom were Colonel Battle, late
in command of the Twentieth Tennessee, and then State Treasurer; Colonel
Ray, Secretary of State; General Dunlap, Comptroller; Henry Watterson,
and Albert Roberts who then edited the _Montgomery Mail_. Colonel Battle
followed me after I left the house, and handed me a roll of bills, which
he begged me to accept from Colonel Ray, General Dunlap and himself, to
assist me in defraying my expenses. The money came very opportunely and
I thanked him very heartily, for I had not five dollars in my pocket at
the time.

I took a steamer for Selma. The vessel was crowded to excess--in the
cabin, on the deck and all about the guards. Still I had a much
pleasanter night than I anticipated--on the floor of the cabin.

At Selma, I met the Rev. Mr. Ticknor, who handed me a letter from my
dear friend, the Bishop of Alabama, containing a check for five hundred
dollars, which he begged me to accept for my own comfort.

I left for Demopolis at eight the following morning, in company with
Captain Wickham and my friend Major Thomas Peters, formerly of General
Polk's staff. At Demopolis I had the pleasure of seeing the Rev. John W.
Beckwith, who had officiated with me at the funeral of General Polk and
who was afterwards to become the Bishop of Georgia.

Continuing on our journey we sailed down the Tombigbee river to the
terminus of the railway, where we took cars and started for Meridian,
Mississippi. It was a most tedious trip on the river, taking up about
ten hours to make fifty miles. And when we reached the cars we found
them crowded to excess.

I stopped at Macon, Mississippi, to visit Captain Yates who had lost his
leg at Atlanta and to whom I had ministered there. I met the heartiest
of welcomes, and found the Captain greatly improved and getting about a
little on crutches. His nephew, who had lost a leg at Murfreesboro, was
visiting him.

I started off from Macon with abundant supplies furnished by Mrs. Yates,
among which were two roast turkeys, a ham and "all the et ceteras." When
the train came along I found Major Winter, of the Engineers, in the car
with his baggage and implements. He kindly invited me to a seat and I
had a comfortable ride to Okalona, Mississippi. It having been decided
not to go forward until General Cheatham could be heard from, Captain
Wickham, Captain Bradford and I went on to Columbus, Mississippi, where
I was very cordially received by Bishop Green of Mississippi.

Wednesday, the 16th of November, having been set apart by the President
of the Confederate States as a day of supplication and prayer for God's
blessing on our cause, I officiated in St. Paul's Church, Columbus, and
preached from the text: "Think not that I am come to send peace on
earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword."

General Cheatham telegraphed me to go forward. So I left West Point,
Mississippi, on the 19th of November, in a car loaded with corn. The
party on our car included Brigadier-General Quarles, Sterling Cockrill,
of Nashville, Captains Shute, Wickham, Bradford, Jones, Mayrant and
Colonel Young of the Forty-ninth Tennessee Regiment, besides some ladies
and young people. The day wore away pleasantly enough in such company
and about 8 o'clock at night we reached Corinth, Mississippi, where the
Rev. Mr. Markham, an excellent Presbyterian minister from New Orleans,
shared my blankets with me. Here we had information that General Sherman
was making his way to the seaboard and was within thirty miles of Macon,
Georgia.

Captain Wickham and myself passed on with others, and at half-past four
in the evening of Thursday, the 22nd of November, we crossed the line
into Tennessee. In consequence of the wretched condition of the roads
and the rough weather, we had had a hard time of it. I made my way with
all possible speed, through Mount Pleasant to Ashwood and to the house
of my dear friend, General Lucius Polk.

Such greetings as I received! How I thanked God for the friends He had
given me! General Chalmers and his staff were guests at General Polk's,
and the next day we had many happy meetings. All day long there was a
constant stream of visitors to Hamilton Place, the residence of General
Polk. General Hood and Governor Harris came early in the day as did also
General Cheatham. Then came General John C. Brown, General Gibson,
General Bate, handsome Frank Armstrong, and General Walthall, who with
his staff, spent the night with us. I offered a special prayer of
Thanksgiving to God for our return to Tennessee, and the following day
was one of supreme enjoyment. I did not move out of the house but just
rested and tried to realize that I was once more in Tennessee.

On the 27th, Advent Sunday, I had Morning Prayer at the residence of
General Lucius Polk, and baptized two children, making a record of the
same in the Parish Register.

On the following day our forces entered Columbia. I accompanied them and
found the good people of the town in a state of the wildest enthusiasm.
Almost the first person I met was my dear friend, the Rev. Dr. Pise who
went with me to call on several families. These were days of great
hopefulness. General Beauregard telegraphed to General Hood that Sherman
was making his way rapidly to the Atlantic coast and urged Hood to
advance to relieve General Lee. General Hood proposed to press forward
with all possible speed, and said to me confidentially that he would
either beat the enemy to Nashville or make the latter go there double
quick. So the race began to see who would get to Nashville first. That
night the enemy was still on the opposite side of Duck River, but it was
thought he would withdraw next morning. At all events our forces were to
cross at daylight.

General Hood urged me to go with the ambulance. When he told me
"Good-bye," I prayed God's blessing, guidance and direction upon him.
"Thank you, Doctor," he replied, "that is my hope and trust." And as he
turned away he remarked: "The enemy must give me fight or I will be in
Nashville before to-morrow night."

General Cheatham and General Stewart crossed Duck River at sunrise;
General Lee shortly afterwards. There was considerable shelling of the
town, and Colonel Beckham was wounded, but no lives were lost.

By Wednesday the enemy had all withdrawn, our forces had crossed over
and the wagons were crossing. I crossed the river at two o'clock with
Major John Green, of South Carolina, and Dr. Phillips, of Hoxton's
Artillery. We met on the road several hundred prisoners going to the
rear. At Spring Hill we heard that the Federal commanders were in a sad
way. General Stanley had been heard to say, "I can do nothing more; I
must retreat." Three trains of cars were burned by the Federals at this
place.

Very much has been said about the Confederates' "lost opportunity," as
it is called, at Spring Hill, and General Cheatham has been faulted for
not doing something very brilliant there that would have changed the
whole complexion of affairs. It is said that he failed to give battle
when the "enemy was marching along the road almost under the camp fires
of the main body of our army."

During the war and after its close I was brought into such intimate
association with General B. F. Cheatham, that I learned to appreciate
his high character. He was a man of admirable presence. In manner he was
free, without frivolity,--cheerful, kind-hearted and ever easy of
access. He was a gentleman without pretensions and a politician without
deceit; a faithful friend and a generous foe; strong in his attachments
and rational in his resentments. He was clear in judgment, firm in
purpose and courageous as a lion. He was fruitful in expedients, prompt
in action and always ready for a fight. He won victory on many a
well-contested field; but, best of all, he ruled his own spirit.

He participated in the greater number of battles in the War with Mexico;
and in the civil war he won distinction and promotion at Belmont,
Shiloh, Perryville, Murfreesboro, Chickamauga, and on many fields
besides, he exhibited the most perfect self-possession,--the utmost
disregard of peril. He possessed in an eminent degree the indispensable
quality of a soldier which enabled him to go wherever duty or necessity
demanded his presence. He understood thoroughly that it was better that
a leader should lose his life than his honor. I have every confidence in
the statement he once made: "During my services as a soldier under the
flag of my country in Mexico, and as an officer of the Confederate
armies, I cannot recall an instance where I failed to obey an order
literally, promptly and faithfully."

Major Saunders, of French's Division, has said: "The assumption that
Schofield's army would have been destroyed at Spring Hill, and one of
the most brilliant victories of the war achieved, had it not been for
the misconduct of Cheatham, is one of the delusions that has survived
the war.... No circumstance or incident that his strategy developed can
be found that justifies [the] attacks [made] on the military reputation
of General Cheatham." My own opinion has always been that General
Cheatham was in no way at fault in his conduct at Spring Hill. And this
opinion has been strengthened by the letter from Governor Harris to
Governor James D. Porter, dated May 20, 1877, and the brief letter from
General Hood to Cheatham, dated December 13, 1864, both recently
published in "Southern Historical Papers," vol. 9, p. 532.

I baptized General Cheatham, confirmed him, officiated at his marriage,
and it was my sad privilege to say the burial service over him. He died
in Nashville, Tennessee, September 4th. 1886. His last words were:
"Bring me my horse! I am going to the front!"

Just before moving toward Franklin, General Strahl came to me and said:
"I want to make you a present," and presented me with a splendid horse,
named "The Lady Polk." I used the horse through the remainder of the war
and at its close sold her, and with the money erected in St. James'
Church, Bolivar, Tennessee, a memorial window to General Strahl and his
Adjutant, Lieutenant John Marsh, both of them killed in the fearful
battle of Franklin. Both of these men I had baptized but a few months
previously, and both were confirmed by Bishop Elliott.




                              CHAPTER XII
                      PERSONAL NARRATIVE--FRANKLIN


The Battle of Franklin was fought on the 30th of November, 1864, and was
one of the bloodiest of the war. On that dismal November day, our line
of battle was formed at 4 o'clock in the afternoon and marched directly
down through an open field toward the outer breastworks of the enemy. A
sheet of fire was pouring into the very faces of our men. The command
was: "Forward! Forward men!" Never on earth did men fight against
greater odds, but they advanced towards the breastworks,--on and
on,--and met death without flinching. The roar of battle was kept up
until after midnight and then gradually died away, as the enemy
abandoned their interior line of defences and rapidly retreated to
Nashville.

We had about 23,000 men engaged. They fought with great gallantry, drove
the enemy from their outer line of temporary works into their interior
line, captured several stands of colors and about one thousand
prisoners. But our losses were about 4,500 brave men, and among them
Major-General Pat Cleburne, Brigadier-General John Adams,
Brigadier-General O. F. Strahl, Brigadier-General Gist,
Brigadier-General Granberry and Brigadier-General John C. Carter was
mortally wounded. Among the wounded were Major-General John C. Brown,
Brigadier-Generals Manigault, Quarles, Cockrill, Scott and George
Gordon.

General John Adams, on reaching the vicinity of Franklin, had
immediately formed his line of battle near the residence of Colonel John
McGavock and led his troops into the fight. A more gallant set of
officers and men never faced a foe. General Adams was calm, cool and
self-possessed and vigilantly watched and directed the movements of his
men and led them on for victory or for death. He was severely wounded
early in the action and was urged to leave the field. He calmly replied:
"No, I will not! I will see my men through!" and at the same time gave
an order to Captain Thomas Gibson, his aide-de-camp and Brigade
Inspector. When he fell he was in the act of leaping his horse, "Old
Charlie," over the outer works. Both horse and his rider were instantly
killed,--the General falling within our lines, while old Charlie lay
astride the works. The General received two wounds in the right leg,
four balls entered his body, one ball passed through his breast and one
entered his right shoulder-blade. These wounds were all received
simultaneously and his death was instantaneous.

Major-General Cleburne's mare was dead on the works and the General
himself was pierced with no less than forty-nine bullets. The bodies of
these two brave Generals were brought from the battlefield in an
ambulance and taken to the residence of Colonel McGavock, whose house
and grounds were literally filled with the Confederate dead and wounded.
Mrs. McGavock rendered every assistance possible and her name deserves
to be handed down to future generations as that of a woman of lofty
principle, exalted character and untiring devotion.

Captain Gibson, General Adams' aide and Brigade Inspector, although
badly wounded, accompanied by Captain Blackwell, conveyed the body of
his commander to the residence of the General's brother, Major Nathan
Adams, in Pulaski. I officiated at the funeral and his mortal remains
were placed in the cemetery by the side of those of his father and
mother.

As a soldier, General Adams was active, calm and self-possessed, brave
without rashness, quick to perceive and ever ready to seize the
favorable moment. He enjoyed the confidence of his superiors and the
love and respect of his soldiers and officers. In camp and on the march
he looked closely to the comfort of his soldiers, and often shared his
horse on long marches with his sick and broken-down men.

He was a member of the Episcopal Church and a sincere and humble
Christian. For a year or more before his death he engaged, morning, noon
and night in devotional exercises. He invariably fasted on Friday and
other days of abstinence appointed by the Book of Common Prayer. He was
guided in all his actions by a thoughtful and strict regard for truth,
right and duty. In all the relations of life he was upright, just and
pure. There is no shadow on his memory and he left to his children the
heritage of an unblemished name and to coming generations the sublime
heroism of a Southern Soldier.

After the battle General Strahl's horse lay by the road-side and the
General by his side,--both dead. All his staff were killed. General
Strahl was a native of Ohio, but he had come to Tennessee in his youth,
and was as thoroughly identified with the latter state as any of her
sons. He gave to the Fourth Tennessee Regiment its drill and discipline
and made it a noted regiment before he succeeded General A. P. Stewart
in command of a brigade. He was just recovering from a dangerous wound
received at Atlanta the previous July when he entered upon the Tennessee
campaign, which ended for him fatally.

General Gist, of South Carolina, was lying dead with his sword still
grasped in his hand and reaching across the fatal breastworks. General
Granberry of Texas, and his horse were seen on the top of the
breastworks,--horse and rider,--dead! I went back to Columbia, hired a
<DW64> to make some plain coffins, helped him to put them into a wagon,
drove with him about sixteen miles, and buried these brave men,--Strahl,
Gist, and Granberry,--under the shadow of the ivy-mantled tower of St.
John's Church, Ashwood,--with the services of the Church. Then I
returned to the field.

Major-General John C. Brown, General George Gordon, and General Carter
were seriously wounded,--the last named, mortally. After ministering to
these and many another, I returned to Columbia to the hospital in the
Columbia Institute. Here I found Captain William Flournoy and Adjutant
McKinney of the First Tennessee Regiment, both severely wounded. There
were hundreds of wounded in the Institute.

I buried Major-General Cleburne from the residence of Mrs. William Polk.
A military escort was furnished by Captain Long and every token of
respect was shown to the memory of the glorious dead. After the funeral,
I rode out to Hamilton Place with General Lucius Polk. There I found
General Manigault wounded in the head and Major Prince, of Mobile,
wounded in the foot.

Returning to Columbia, I met Captain Stepleton and through him paid the
burial expenses of my dear friend, John Marsh,--three hundred dollars.
The dear fellow had given me a farewell kiss as he entered the battle. I
also gave the Rev. Dr. Pise one hundred dollars and left myself without
funds. While in Columbia I sent wagons down to the Webster settlement to
procure supplies for our wounded at Franklin.

Having visited the sick and wounded in the hospitals at Columbia, I went
with Captain Stepleton towards Franklin. I reached the house of Mr.
Harrison, about three miles from Franklin, at dark, and stopped to see
my friends, General Carter, General Quarles, Captain Tom Henry, and
Captain Matt Pilcher. Captain Pilcher was shot in the side. Captain
Henry was wounded slightly in the head. Both were doing well. General
Quarles had his left arm shattered. General Carter was shot through the
body and his wound was mortal. I knelt by the side of the wounded and
commended them to God. I had prayers with the family before retiring.
All that night we could hear the guns around Nashville very distinctly,
but all I could learn in the morning was that our lines were within a
mile and a half of the city.

The following day was the Second Sunday in Advent, December 4th. I rode
to Franklin to see Dr. Buist, the Post Surgeon. All along the way were
abundant marks of the terrific battle,--dead horses and burnt
wagons,--but at the line of the breastworks near Mr. Carter's house,
where the heaviest fighting was done, there was a great number of horses
piled almost one upon another. Mr. Carter's son was shot within a few
yards of his home. Returning to Mr. Harrison's house with Dr. Buist, who
went down to attend to the wounded, I visited them all and had prayers
with them. The Doctor and myself returned to Franklin in the evening and
William Clouston called and took me to his house for the night.

There I found General Cockrill of Missouri, wounded in the legs and in
the right arm but full of life and very cheerful. Lieutenant Anderson,
one of his staff, who had lost a part of one foot at Vicksburg, was now
wounded in the other. Captain John M. Hickey, in command of a company in
a Missouri regiment, while charging the main lines of the works just in
front of the cotton gin, was desperately wounded, his leg being
shattered. He fell into the mud and while in this deplorable condition,
his left arm was badly broken by a minnie ball and soon afterwards he
was shot in the shoulder. With thousands of dead and wounded lying about
him, he lay upon the field of battle for fifteen hours, without food,
water or shelter, in the freezing cold, and half of that time exposed to
the plunging shot and shell of both friend and foe.

I devoted my time while in Franklin, to visiting the hospitals. In one
room of Brown's Division hospital, in the Court House, I dressed a
goodly number of wounds, after which I went to visit General Cockrill
and thence to army headquarters at the residence of John Overton. I met
with a most cordial welcome, not only from General Hood, but also from
Mr. Overton's family and several ladies from Nashville.

On Wednesday, I rode with Governor Harris to Franklin and thence to Mr.
Harrison's, to be with General John C. Carter who was nearing his end. I
found General Quarles and Captain Pilcher both doing well. Major Dunlap
was also improving. Lieutenant-Colonel Jones of the Twenty-fourth South
Carolina, however, was not doing so well, having had a profuse
hemorrhage. On visiting General Carter, I read a short passage of Holy
Scripture and had prayers with him for which he thanked me in the most
earnest manner. In his lucid moments my conversation with him was
exceedingly interesting. But his paroxysms of pain were frequent and
intense and he craved for chloroform and it was freely administered to
him.

He could not be convinced that he was going to die. "But," I said,
"General, if you should die, what do you wish me to say to your wife?"

"Tell her," he replied, "that I have always loved her devotedly and
regret leaving her more than I can express."

I had prayers with all the wounded and with the family of Mr. Harrison,
and sat up with General Carter until half past twelve o'clock.
Lieutenant-Colonel Jones died some time in the night. General Carter
died the following Saturday. I wrote to the Rev. Dr. Pise at Columbia to
attend his funeral as his body was to be taken there for temporary
burial. It was bitterly cold and the roads were very slippery.

General Carter was a native of Georgia but a citizen of Tennessee. He
had been advanced for merit from a lieutenant at the beginning of the
war to the command of a brigade. He had a wonderful gentleness of manner
coupled with dauntless courage. Every field officer of his brigade but
one, was killed, wounded or captured on the enemy's works at the
dreadful battle of Franklin.

The following Sunday, (Third Sunday in Advent,) I celebrated the Holy
Communion at army headquarters. That night General Forrest shared my bed
with me. One of the men remarked: "It was the lion and the lamb lying
down together."

The following day, in the Methodist Church at Brentwood, I united in the
holy bonds of matrimony, Major William Clare and Miss Mary Hadley, of
Nashville. The Major's attendants were Dr. Foard, Medical Director, and
Major Moore, Chief Commissary. A large number of officers were present.
After the marriage, the party returned to the residence of Mr. Overton
where a sumptuous dinner was provided. My empty purse was replenished by
a fee of two hundred dollars, besides which a friend sent me, the
following morning, fifty dollars in greenbacks.

I left headquarters the following day in Dr. Foard's ambulance for
Franklin and on the way picked up a couple of wounded men and carried
them to the hospital. We met Governor Harris and Colonel Ray, Secretary
of State. I spent the evening at Mrs. Carter's with my friends, Colonel
Rice and Captain Tom Henry. The next day I made efforts to purchase
shoes for my family. The merchants had hidden their goods and were
unwilling to dispose of them for Confederate money. But by offering to
pay in greenbacks, I not only secured shoes but all sorts of goods.

Meeting Captain Kelly, of the Rock City Guard, then off duty in
consequence of wounds received in the recent battle, I proposed to him
to go to Georgia for clothing for the soldiers. To this he agreed and we
left for Columbia. While there I attended a meeting of the ladies, the
object of which was to organize a Relief Association.

Distressing reports began to come in of a reverse to our arms at
Nashville. At first I did not credit them, but later I met Colonel
Harvie, the Inspector General, who not only confirmed the very worst of
the reports, but expressed both indignation and disgust at the conduct
of our troops.

General Lucius Polk sent a buggy for me and I drove out to Hamilton
Place and spent the night. The next day, (Fourth Sunday in Advent,) I
celebrated the Holy Communion in the parlor at Hamilton Place, and after
administering to the company assembled there, carried the consecrated
elements to the rooms of General Manigault and Major Prince, that they
might also receive the Comfortable Sacrament. In the afternoon I drove
back to Columbia and assisted the Rev. Dr. Pise at the marriage of Miss
Hages to Major William E. Moore, Chief Commissary of the Army. After
this I rode to the residence of Mr. Vaught, where I found General Hood
and his staff.

I was glad to find the General bearing up well under the disaster to our
arms. It was now a very serious question whether General Hood should
hold the line of Duck River, (even if it were possible for him to do
so,) or fall back across the Tennessee. One officer remarked to the
General in my presence, that while God was on our side so manifestly
that no man could question it, it was still very apparent that our
people had not yet passed through all their sufferings.

The General replied that the remark was a just one. He had been
impressed with the fact at Spring Hill, where the enemy was completely
within our grasp, and notwithstanding all his efforts to strike a
decisive blow, he had failed. And now again at Nashville, after the
day's fighting was well nigh over, when all had gone successfully until
the evening, our troops had broken in confusion and fled.

Early the following morning, General Forrest reached headquarters and
advised strongly that General Hood withdraw without delay south of the
Tennessee. "If we are unable to hold the state, we should at once
evacuate it," were the words of General Forrest. At nine o'clock in the
morning, cannonading began at Rutherford Hill. After a couple of hours,
word came from General Cheatham that he had repulsed the enemy, and the
firing ceased. General Hood finally decided to fall back south of the
Tennessee; and Governor Harris, in whose judgment I had great
confidence, thought it the best we could do. Still it was a dark day to
me, and the thought of leaving the state of Tennessee once more, greatly
depressed me.

Tuesday, the 20th of December, was a day of gloominess. I felt in
bidding farewell to Columbia, that I was parting with my dearest and
most cherished hopes. I recalled the days of our march into Tennessee,
so full of delightful intercourse with Strahl, and Marsh and other
friends. After saying "good-bye," I rode on to Pulaski, thirty miles,
where I was cordially received at the home of Mrs. Ballentine. The next
day I baptized six persons there, and later at the headquarters of
General Hood, in the residence of the Honorable Thomas Jones, four of
Mr. Jones' children. After this baptism Mr. Jones joined us at prayers
in General Hood's room. The General said, "I am afraid that I have been
more wicked since I began this retreat than for a long time past. I had
so set my heart upon success,--had prayed so earnestly for it,--had such
a firm trust that I should succeed, that my heart has been very
rebellious. But," he added, "let us go out of Tennessee, singing hymns
of praise."

The weather was exceeding inclement. So many of our poor boys were
barefooted that there was very great suffering. The citizens of Pulaski
did all they could to provide shoes. I dined on Wednesday with Governor
Harris, at Major Nathan Adams' and spent the night with Colonel Rice.
The General informed me the next day that the enemy effected a crossing
of Duck River at Columbia at noon, and began shelling the town. But
Forrest told them by flag, that if the shelling were not stopped, he
would put their wounded directly under the fire. The firing consequently
ceased.

Our forces all moved on towards Bainbridge. General Hood left the
following morning. I joined Governor Harris as he was not to be detained
en route. We rode thirty miles to a little town called Lexington, where
Colonel Rice, Captain Ballentine and myself obtained rough
accommodations for the night. The next day, we started for Lamb's Ferry,
thinking to find a boat there, but learned that General Roddy had
ordered it to Elk River to cross his command. I therefore had another
journey of eighteen miles to make. Just at the close of the day I found
my friend, Major-General Clayton, camped by the road-side, and not
knowing General Hood's location, I decided to accept General Clayton's
very cordial invitation to spend the night with him. It was Christmas
eve. After supper the General called up all his staff and couriers and
we had prayers.

The next day, Christmas day and Sunday, was very sad and gloomy. I had
prayers at General Clayton's headquarters, after which I rode down to
the river and watched the work of putting down the pontoons. Some one
brought me a Christmas gift of two five dollar gold pieces from Mrs.
Thomas Jones of Pulaski.

The following day I crossed the river at nine o'clock. On crossing the
river on our forward march, I had sung "Jubilate." Now I was chanting
"De Profundis." I joined General Hood at Tuscumbia on the 27th and found
the General feeling the disaster more since he reached Tuscumbia than at
any time since the retreat began. And after various adventures, I
reached Aberdeen on Saturday, the last day of 1864. Though an entire
stranger in Aberdeen, I received a most cordial welcome at the home of
Mr. Needham Whitfield, whose family were church people. And thus ended
the year 1864.




                              CHAPTER XIII
          PERSONAL NARRATIVE--THE CRUMBLING OF THE CONFEDERACY


New Year's day fell on a Sunday in 1865. There being no resident priest
in Aberdeen, the Vestry of St. John's Church requested me to officiate
for them, which I did both morning and evening, having large
congregations. And on the following Tuesday, I began holding daily
services in the church, which were exceedingly well attended. At the
first of these services, I preached on "Earnestness in the Christian
Life."

I remained in Aberdeen until the 14th of January, holding daily
services, visiting the members of the parish and performing such
priestly offices as were desired. Then I left for Columbus, Mississippi,
where I had a cordial welcome at the house of Mr. John C. Ramsey, a
vestryman of St. Paul's Church. The Bishop of the Diocese, Bishop Green,
was making Columbus his home, but was absent at the time and expected to
return on the following Monday.

I met the Rev. Mr. Schwrar, of Tennessee, at the Bishop's residence, and
on the following Sunday I preached at St. Paul's Church, both morning
and night, the services being taken by the Rev. Mr. Schwrar and the Rev.
Mr. Bakewell of New Orleans. I held services daily, morning and evening,
during that week, at most of which I preached.

At this time the minds of the people of the South were becoming
impressed with the idea that the victory and independence of the
Confederate States were no longer certain. On the 19th of January,
General Hood was relieved of his command and Lieutenant-General Taylor
took temporary command. Both officers and privates were holding meetings
in the army asking for the return of General Johnston. General Hood
deserved well of his country for his bravery, for his devotion, for his
energy and enterprise. But the troops longed for General Joseph E.
Johnston, the country was crying out for him, and Congress of the
Confederate States was demanding that the President restore him to the
command of the army of the Tennessee. And I am satisfied that no other
man, had he the genius of a Cæsar or a Napoleon, could have commanded
that army so well as General Johnston.

On Sunday the 22nd of January, the Rev. John M. Schwrar, Deacon, was
advanced to the priesthood in St. Paul's Church, Columbus, by Bishop
Green. I presented him for ordination and preached the sermon, from the
text: "What shall one then answer the messengers of the nation? That the
Lord hath founded Zion and the poor of His people shall trust in it."
Isaiah xiv, 32.

It saddened me to think that, because of the death of Bishop Otey of
Tennessee, Mr. Schwrar had need to be ordained outside of the Diocese to
which he belonged canonically. But after the close of the war and I had
become Bishop Otey's successor, Mr. Schwrar was one of my most faithful
and beloved clergymen, was for several years secretary of the Diocese of
Tennessee and missionary in charge of several important places near
Memphis. In the epidemic of yellow fever in 1878, he remained bravely at
his post and died of the fever.

A few days after the ordination, I met at General Elzy's, Colonel
Baskerville, Captain Hudson, James D. B. de Bow and others and we
discussed the policy of putting the <DW64>s into the army as our
soldiers, and we all agreed to the wisdom of so doing. We also discussed
the rumors then current of the readiness of the foreign powers to
recognize us on the basis of gradual emancipation. And Mr. de Bow, who
was the editor of the "Southern Quarterly Review," stated that Governor
Aiken of South Carolina, the owner of over a thousand slaves, had spoken
to him more than two years previously in favor of emancipation to secure
recognition, and had urged him to employ his pen to bring the subject
before the people of the Confederate States.

It was at this time reported that Commissioners had gone from the
Confederacy to Washington on a peace mission. I spent Wednesday, the 1st
of February, with Colonel Baskerville and with Mr. de Bow, who was of
the opinion that we should have peace on the 1st of May. The thought of
peace almost made me hold my breath, but I feared that the time was not
yet. At the same time the President of the Confederate States appointed
a day of fasting, humiliation and prayer.

Lieutenant-Colonel Llewellyn Hoxton, whom I had presented to Bishop
Elliott for confirmation at Shelbyville in 1863, spent a night with me.
He belonged to an old Virginia family from Alexandria where he was
carefully nurtured in the Church and had instilled into his mind and
heart the principles of virtue and religion by the quiet and steady
influences of a Christian home. He graduated at West Point, in 1861,
just at the time of the breaking out of the war. After reaching
Washington, he resigned his commission in the United States army in
order that he might go with his state. His resignation was not accepted,
but his name was stricken from the roll. He crossed over to Virginia and
was ordered by the Secretary of War of the Confederacy, to report to
General Polk. He was a most faithful soldier and on many a battlefield
displayed conspicuous gallantry.

I was unable to get transportation from Columbus before the 7th of
February, and before leaving, Bishop Green handed me an envelope
containing two hundred dollars, an offering from a member of St. Paul's
Parish. After many annoyances, owing to the crowded state of the trains,
I arrived in Meridian. Here I found Captain Frierson of Tennessee. Dr.
Foster the Post Surgeon, met me at the railway station and I accepted an
invitation to be his guest during his detention at that place. At his
quarters, I found a number of Nashville friends--General Maney, Captain
Alexander Porter, Captain Rice, Major Vaulx, Captain Kelly and others.

I visited Colonel Hurt who was commanding Maney's brigade. The brigade
was smaller than my old regiment at the beginning of the war. Of all the
thousand and more who came out in the First Tennessee Regiment in May,
1861, I found but fifty men remaining. Many had been killed in battle,
others had sickened and died, some were "in the house of bondage," and,
worst of all, some had deserted their colors.

I left Meridian on Thursday, the 9th of February, for Demopolis,
Alabama, where I arrived at three o'clock in the evening. My visit to
Demopolis was a pleasant one. While there the report of the Peace
Commission was made public. The failure of the commission was used to
rally the spirits of the people, who were told that every avenue to
peace was closed, excepting that which might be carved out with the
sword. But this attempt to raise the drooping spirits of the South
failed. The feeble flare of excitement produced by the fiasco of the
Peace Commission was soon totally extinguished.

Leaving Demopolis, I accompanied the Rev. Mr. Beckwith to Greensboro,
Alabama, to see Bishop Wilmer. During this visit the Bishop held a
Confirmation service at which I preached and the offerings, amounting to
$530, were given to me for army missions. After the service a gentleman
took me to one side and stated that several gentlemen of the
congregation desired to present me with a slight token of their regard
and presented me with $700. It took me greatly by surprise.

Accompanied by Frank Dunnington, I went to Selma. We put up for the
night at a hotel. In the morning I paid for lodging and breakfast $13. I
declined the breakfast. The following day I had the great pleasure of
meeting my friend Colonel Harry Yeatman. That morning I visited the
Naval Works, and spent some time with Captain Ap Catesby Jones. We had
much pleasant chat about our Virginia friends. It seemed strange to find
a naval establishment in an inland town or upon the banks of a small
river. But the truth is, the Confederate government had learned the
wisdom of selecting such places for the manufacture of gunboats and
naval ordnance in order that they might be the better protected from the
raids of the Federals.

Captain Catesby Jones had accomplished a vast amount of work at this
place. He had some four hundred workmen employed, only ninety of whom
were white. He had up to the time I visited him, turned out one hundred
and ninety guns, besides doing a vast amount of other work for the
government. He went through the works with me and showed me the
different steps, from the melting of the ore to the drilling of the
guns. He was casting the Brooks gun almost exclusively and said that it
combined more good points than any other.

While in the office at the Naval Works, Mr. Phillips, of North Carolina,
came in to take a look at the works. He was just from Richmond having
travelled with Vice-President Alexander H. Stephens as far as Atlanta.
He told a story which illustrated Mr. Lincoln's wit, and as we all
thought at that time, lack of dignity and perhaps also lack of sympathy
with those who were interested in the war on the Southern side.

Mr. Hunter, one of the Commissioners from the South, suggested, during a
four hours' interview with Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Seward, many instances in
history in which governments had treated with insurgents, and mentioned
one in the time of Charles I of England. Mr. Lincoln replied: "Seward
may know all about the history of that time. All I know is, that Charles
I lost his head."

I reached Montgomery by steamer too late Saturday night for the train to
Columbus, Georgia. I was therefore obliged to spend Sunday in
Montgomery. My expenses on the steamer, exclusive of fare, were
twenty-five dollars, to wit: three cups of coffee furnished by one of
the servants, fifteen dollars; and "tip" to the boy for waiting on me
and caring for my traps, ten dollars.

With the Rev. Mr. Mitchell, I went that night to a meeting of the
citizens of Montgomery, called to consider the condition of affairs then
existing. The theater in which the meeting was held, was crowded to
excess. When we arrived, Governor Watts was addressing the assembled
multitude. We could scarcely get standing room. The Governor spoke for
more than an hour, made many good points, defended President Davis, and
altogether his speech was an able one, practical and thoroughly
patriotic. He referred to the different spirit displayed by the people
at home from that of the soldiers in the field. He was followed by other
speakers and a series of patriotic resolutions was adopted by the people
present.

I spent Sunday in Montgomery, preached morning and evening and baptized
the son of Lieutenant-General Albert J. Smith. Leaving Montgomery the
next morning, I arrived at Columbus, Georgia, at five o'clock in the
evening, after an absence of more than three months. I was glad to find
my family well.

I took up my work of assisting the Rev. Mr. Hawks as before my departure
for Tennessee. The 1st of March was Ash Wednesday and it rained
incessantly. I said Morning Prayer and preached for the rector of the
parish, who though able to attend the service, was looking very badly.
His active labors were evidently at an end. Three weeks later, my former
classmate, Dr. Frank Stanford, put him under the influence of
chloroform, and operated upon him with a knife, removing a cancer. He
bore the operation well, and was present to give his blessing, when on
the 5th of April, at the rectory, I united in the bonds of matrimony,
Captain John S. Smith, aide-de-camp to General Hood, and Sallie C.
Hawks, the reverend gentleman's daughter. And his health continued
reasonably good so long as I remained in Columbus.

During the season of Lent I officiated every Sunday for Mr. Hawks and
delivered a course of lectures on "Confirmation." On the 10th of March,
Friday and the day appointed by President Davis as a day of fasting,
humiliation and prayer, I preached to a crowded congregation from Isaiah
iv, 12. I attended to funerals, baptisms and other parochial duties for
Mr. Hawks. Among the baptisms, was that of General Warner, chief
engineer of the Naval Works at Columbus. Another was that of Captain
Rodolph Morerod, of the Thirty-third Tennessee, Strahl's brigade. He was
of Swiss parentage, a native of Indiana and a practicing physician
before the war.

Major-General John C. Brown spent an evening with me just before he left
to join his command, having recovered sufficiently from the wound
received at the Battle of Franklin. He made a full statement to me of
his movements at Spring Hill, which satisfied me that his skirts were
clear of even a shadow of blame for the neglect of a great opportunity,
as is sometimes said. I had always believed it, for he was at once one
of the noblest of men and most accomplished of soldiers. I had united
him in the bonds of matrimony with Miss Bettie Childress, a little more
than a year previously, at Griffin, Georgia, under somewhat romantic
circumstances. Invitations had been issued for the wedding to take place
at nine o'clock, in the evening of the 23rd of February, (1864). The
groom, accompanied by nine officers of his staff, arrived in Griffin on
the 22nd. But the following morning he received a telegram from General
Joseph E. Johnston, ordering him to report at once at Rome, Georgia. The
officers who were with him were likewise recalled.

General Brown at once sought Miss Childress and laid the case before
her.

"You will have to return to your command," she said.

"But not before you are my wife," he replied.

I was in attendance at the hospitals in Griffin at the time and was sent
for and married them at one o'clock in the afternoon in the presence of
a few friends. The groom said "good by" to his bride and went to the
seat of war. Two weeks later he had a leave of absence and with his
bride took a wedding journey.

I baptized the children of this marriage, confirmed all but one,
performed the ceremony at the marriage of the eldest daughter and
officiated at her funeral a year later. I was with the heart-broken
father at the death-bed of a second daughter and stood with him at her
grave.

Thus I knew General Brown in peace and war, in joy and sorrow, in
sunshine and beneath the clouds, and I always knew him as a true
man--faithful in all the relations of life, broad-minded and generous,
an enterprising citizen, a lawyer, a statesman,--a man always to be
depended upon. He had the good judgment, the force and decision of
character, the methodical habit and the fidelity and integrity of
purpose which compelled confidence and made success easy. After I became
Bishop of Tennessee and especially during his term as Governor of
Tennessee, we were warm friends. His death on the 17th of August, 1889,
was sudden and unexpected. I was apprised thereof by telegram and
hastened to the funeral at Pulaski, Tennessee, where I laid him to rest
with the solemn and impressive services of the Church.

At another time we had as our guests Lieutenant-Colonel Dawson of the
154th Tennessee, and Brigadier-General Felix H. Robertson, both nearly
recovered from their wounds.

But I received the most distressing news of the death of Mr. Jacob K.
Sass, President of the Bank of Charleston and Treasurer of the Council
of the Church in the Confederate States of America. He had just escaped
from Columbia, South Carolina, before its fall, and died at Unionville.
He was one of the noblest laymen of the Church, of large heart and mind,
full of love for Christ and the Church,--abundant in labors,
earnest-minded and pure-hearted.

Mr. Rhodes Brown one day handed me a brief and pointed note, to the
following effect: "To the Rev. Dr. Quintard, for his private use, from a
few friends." The note contained $2500 and was no doubt given to enable
me to purchase theological books and I think Mr. Brown was the sole
donor.

On Palm Sunday, (April 9th) I brought before the Church people at the
services, the importance of establishing an Orphanage and Church Home in
Columbus, and gave notice that the offerings on the following Sunday
(Easter) would be for that purpose.

On Good Friday it was with great delight that I received into the Church
by baptism, my old friend General Washington Barrow, of Nashville. He
was one of my earliest friends in that city and always commanded my
highest and warmest regard. He had received a classical education,
studied law and was admitted to the bar. He was American
Charge-d'Affaires in Portugal from 1841 to 1844, served in Congress as a
Whig from Tennessee, was State Senator in 1860 and 1861, and a member of
the Commission that negotiated a Military League between the Southern
States on the 4th of May, 1861. He was arrested in March, 1862, by
Governor Johnson, of Tennessee, on charge of disloyalty and was
imprisoned in the penitentiary at Nashville, but was released the
following week by order of President Lincoln. He died in St. Louis, in
October, 1866.

Before Easter came, Charleston,--the City by the Sea,--after as gallant
a defence as the records of history, ancient or modern, furnish,--had
fallen. Columbia had suffered severely from a visit of the Federal
forces. Selma, Alabama, had been taken and the larger part of it burned.
Finally the rumors that had reached us from time to time, that Richmond
had fallen, were confirmed. General Howell Cobb wrote to the Mayor of
Columbus, urging him to do all in his power to arouse the citizens to a
sense of their duty, to oppose the arming of the <DW64>s, and to promise
from the military authorities all the assistance that could be rendered.

But from the address of President Davis upon the occasion of the fall of
Richmond, and from the proclamation of the Governor of Alabama to the
people of his state when it was threatened with an invasion of Federal
troops, it was evident that hope was dying out in the hearts of the
people and that the end of the Confederacy was not far off.

Easter Eve the enemy was in Montgomery and that city was surrendered by
the Mayor without an effort at defence. Everything in Columbus was in
commotion. The tranquility of the place was not in the least served by
the distressing news that was received of the assassination of President
Lincoln. Absurd preparations were made for the defence of the city, but
it was an insignificant force that could be gathered there.

Thus Easter dawned. The first service of the day was at half-past five
in the morning when I celebrated the Holy Communion. There was a very
large attendance at this service. Many men were present. It was most
solemn and impressive. All hearts were filled with forebodings of what
was to come. The enemy was close at hand.

At the second service at half-past ten, I said the Litany and celebrated
the Holy Communion. I did not preach, feeling that it was a time for
prayer and supplication only. The offerings as previously announced,
were for the Church Home and Orphanage. They amounted to $33,000.

I stood at the altar for a considerable time administering the sacrament
to officers and soldiers who came to receive before going to the field.
Among these I recognized General Finley, of Florida, and Lieutenant
Green, son of the Bishop of Mississippi. I was deeply touched by seeing
an officer who was very devout, kneel at the chancel rail, and then
hasten away, equipped for battle, clasping his wife by the hand as he
tore himself from her.

At noon the Federal artillery began firing upon the city. The fight for
the defence of Columbus was quite a brisk affair. Major-General Howell
Cobb was chief in command, his second being Colonel Leon Von Zinken,
Commander of the post. Our whole force was less than 4,000, while that
of the Federals amounted to some 12,000 or 15,000, under Major-General
James H. Wilson. The enemy not only greatly outnumbered our force but
was splendidly equipped.

The enemy was twice repulsed, but of course our troops had, before very
long, to give way before such superiority of numbers and equipment.
About ten and a half o'clock on Monday morning, our troops fell back
across the river into the city and beat a hasty retreat on the road to
Macon, numbers of them passing by my house.

I had made but little preparation for the coming of the enemy. I had in
my possession the money collected at the offertory at the Sunday morning
service. This I wrapped up in a piece of rubber cloth and a friend put
it in the top of a tall pine tree for me. It may be there yet for aught
I know. I had at my house a considerable amount of silver ware. This was
rapidly gathered up, put in a sack and lowered into a well. Some
battle-field trophies were thrown into another well. About mid-night we
retired to rest thinking we might be disturbed at any moment.

But it was not until eight o'clock on Tuesday morning that any of the
Federal soldiers put in an appearance. The first man who rode into my
front yard was a sergeant of the Tenth Missouri Cavalry. He asked if I
had seen any Confederates about there, to which I replied: "Not since
last night."

"Which way were they going?" he next inquired.

"Towards Macon."

"Can we get something to eat?"

"Yes, breakfast will soon be ready. Will you walk in?"

He rode off and called a Lieutenant, who rode up, hitched his horse in
the front yard, taking the precaution to throw the front gates wide
open. As he went up the steps of the porch, I asked him his name. He
then gave it as Jones, but after breakfast he told me his name was
Freese, which it evidently was.

I had with me as a guest, Mr. Samuel Noble, a very dear friend who had
arrived from Selma on Sunday morning. He was a Pennsylvanian, who had
been sent South by the Federal government to secure cotton and prevent
its being destroyed by the Confederates. At Selma he had fallen under
the suspicion of the Federals and after being released by them, was
taken up as a spy by our soldiers. He was asked with whom he was
acquainted and gave me as his reference. He was accordingly sent on to
Columbus in charge of a Lieutenant, who instantly released him upon my
recognizing him. He was of great service to me in the emergencies which
now arose.

Lieutenant Freese seemed a gentlemanly fellow enough and gave me the
following paper for my protection:

    I have paid a visit to the house of the Rev. C. T. Quintard, (where
    Samuel Noble of Pennsylvania is a guest,) for the protection of his
    person and property. All soldiers will leave everything unmolested
    until General Wilson can send out a Guard as applied for. This
    property must remain unmolested.

    HENRY H. FREESE,

    1st Lieut Co. D. 10th Mo. Cavalry, Volunteer U. S. A.

Armed with this document, Mr. Noble determined to keep out all
intruders. Several friends took shelter at my house. Infamous outrages
were committed in the presence of ladies at my nearest neighbor's; and
in his effort to protect us, Mr. Noble was twice put in imminent danger,
pistols being placed at his head with threats that he would be shot.

So I went to headquarters to secure a guard. A neighbor went with me and
a soldier agreed to protect my premises until my return. I called first
on General Winslow, with a note from Mr. Noble addressed to both General
Winslow and Captain Hodge, his Acting Adjutant-General. Captain Hodge
not only treated me with great courtesy, but accompanied me to the
office of the Provost Marshal. Not finding the latter as I desired, I
determined to call upon General Wilson.

I wrote out a statement of what had transpired at my neighbor's house
and sent it in to the General with my card. The General himself came to
the door, shook hands with me very cordially and invited me into his
room where he introduced me to General McCook.

I asked General McCook to read the statement I had written and he did
so. Then rising from his seat and pacing the floor, he said with great
warmth: "Doctor, if you could identify these men who have committed this
outrage, I would hang them in a minute if I could put my hands on them."

He immediately gave orders to his Adjutant who in turn gave the
necessary orders to the Provost Marshal. By this means I secured a guard
for my own house and for three of my neighbors. It was to the great
relief of my family that I finally returned home, for they feared from
my long absence that some mishap had befallen me.

We had a quiet night and I had the good fortune the next morning to save
both of my horses. On leaving the breakfast table, I walked out on the
front porch, and saw two Federal soldiers putting their saddles on my
horses. I called to the Lieutenant in command of the guard, to know if I
must give them both up. He came out immediately, buckled on his sword,
went to the men, gave them a sound thumping with his sword and ordered
them to unsaddle and give up the horses. They at once obeyed and I put
the horses in the basement of my house. When an hour later four other
soldiers came dashing up expecting to secure my horses, they failed to
find them, and Mr. Noble went out and put the intruders off the
premises.

A few days later the guards were all called in, the troops having been
ordered forward on the road to Macon. A number of stragglers came to the
house from time to time and made efforts to enter it, but without
success.

One night the torch was applied to the government property, factories,
etc., in Columbus. The heavens were brilliantly lighted up and at
intervals there were tremendous explosions. The loudest was at one
o'clock, when the magazine was fired. It shattered the glass in houses
two miles away. All along the river, the enemy left a scene of
desolation and ruin. All the bridges were destroyed. The factories,
naval works, nitre works, and cotton houses, were all burned. The shops
in the town were all pillaged chiefly by the poor of the town. The
destruction is said to have involved about fifteen millions of dollars.




                              CHAPTER XIV
                PERSONAL NARRATIVE--THE CLOSE OF THE WAR


From Columbus I made my way as best I could with my family, to Atlanta,
where I was the guest of my friend Mr. Richard Peters.

The affairs of the Confederacy, its armies, its political organization,
had all come to naught. General Thomas and his army had effected a
junction with General Grant. Cavalry, infantry and artillery completely
surrounded the Confederate forces, whose supply of ammunition was nearly
exhausted. Overwhelming circumstances compelled the capitulation of
General Lee at Appomattox Court House, on Sunday April 9th, 1865. A few
days later occurred the assassination of President Lincoln and that
event was followed by the proclamation offering a reward for the
apprehension of Jefferson Davis and certain other persons,--not as the
chief actors in the recent war,--but as _particeps criminis_ in that
atrocious crime.

In my stay at Atlanta I was brought somewhat in touch with the march of
events. On the 20th of May the Honorable Ben Hill was brought to
Atlanta. He had been an intimate friend of President Davis and was a man
of fine intellect. He bore himself nobly in the then depressing state of
affairs. I had a long and most interesting conversation with him. Mr.
Mallory, who had been Secretary of the Confederate Navy, seemed to take
a pessimistic view of the situation, and told me that his greatest
regret was that he had spent four years of his life in working for a
people unfit for independence.

Major-General Howell Cobb, although a paroled prisoner of war, was
brought into Atlanta under guard, probably to accompany Mr. Hill and Mr.
Mallory to Washington. I had half an hour's conversation with him. He
told me that he had no regrets for the past so far as his own conduct
was concerned; that he was willing to let his record stand without the
dotting of an _i_ or the crossing of a _t_; that he felt that the future
had nothing in store for him; that he was willing to submit to the
United States laws; and that he had no desire to escape from the United
States officers.

"Indeed," said he, "were there now two paths before me, one leading to
the woods and the other to the gallows, I would rather take the latter
than compromise my self-respect by attempting to escape."

On Sunday, the 21st of May, I officiated in the Central Presbyterian
Church, Atlanta. There was an immense congregation present. It was made
up of about an equal number of Federals and Confederates. Before
beginning the service, I made a brief address in which I expressed my
views as to the duties of all true men in the then present condition of
the country. I said that every man should do his utmost to heal the
wounds and to hide the seams and scars of the fratricidal war that had
just closed. I told the congregation that I would not use the prayer for
the President of the United States at that service, simply because it
had not yet been authorized by the Bishop of the Diocese whose
ecclesiastical jurisdiction in the matter I recognized. I then proceeded
with the service.

A few evenings later, Major E. B. Beaumont, Adjutant-General on
Major-General Wilson's staff, took tea with us. He was from
Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, and an intimate friend of Mr. Peters'
relatives in that state. As soon as he reached Macon, he wrote to Mr.
Peters requesting him to call on him for any assistance he might be able
to render. He was then on his way home on thirty days' leave.

He was a graduate of West Point, and,--like all from that institution
with whom I was ever brought in contact,--a gentleman. From him I heard
the Federal side of the story of the Columbus fight. I appreciated more
than ever how utterly absurd was the attempt on the part of the
Confederates to defend the place! We had but a handful of untrained
militia and a squad of veterans from the hospitals, against 13,000 of
the best disciplined and best equipped troops of the Federal army!

From Atlanta I started for Nashville, accompanied by my family and my
friend Mr. Peters, who was most anxious to get to Philadelphia. The
railroad between Atlanta and Chattanooga had been destroyed but had been
re-built as far south as Kingston, Georgia. I found an old friend, the
engineer in charge of the work of construction, who gladly received us
into his coach and provided us with abounding hospitality.

As there was considerable difficulty in getting through Chattanooga, I
called upon the Federal Commander at Kingston, and asked him if he would
kindly facilitate my movements. I handed him my passport upon which he
endorsed his name and asked me to hand it to an officer in an adjoining
room. The latter, to my surprise, provided me with free passes to
Nashville. Arrived at Nashville, I was very cordially received at the
residence of my friend, Colonel Harry Yeatman. This was on a Friday. The
next day, the Rev. W. D. Harlow, then in charge of Christ Church, called
upon me. I said to him in the course of our conversation: "I shall be
glad to take part with you in the services tomorrow." For the hall, used
by my congregation previous to the war, had been taken by the military,
in 1862, and converted into barracks, and my congregation was scattered.

"Perhaps you had better not," he said.

"And pray, why not?" I asked.

"The authorities might not like it," he replied.

"Very well," I rejoined, "if they do not like it, let them come and
arrest me. I shall not object in the least."

I learned subsequently that he had called upon General Parkhurst of
Michigan, then Provost Marshal of Nashville, informed him of my arrival
and asked him if I would be permitted to officiate.

"Ah," replied the General, "has the Doctor returned? Where does he
officiate? I shall be glad to attend his services."

Later I was called upon to visit the General's wife in sickness and I
found myself very busily engaged in visiting the sick and wounded of the
Federal forces at Nashville and in burying their dead. For weeks I was
in constant attendance in the hospitals and in camp. Gradually I began
to realize that I had been unconsciously converted from a Confederate to
a Federal Chaplain. When I decided to take my family to New York, I was
waited upon by a committee of Federal officers, the chairman of which
made a touching address and asked me to accept a purse of gold in token
of the high appreciation in which my services had been held by the
Federal officers in Nashville. I need hardly say that I was both
surprised and gratified.

In those days the railways were in charge of military conductors, the
coaches were greatly crowded and it was difficult to obtain seats. But
General Parkhurst came to my assistance, sent his adjutant to the
railway station to secure seats for me and my family, and placed a guard
over them. Thus my family made a very comfortable journey.

On reaching New York, I was most cordially received by my friend the
Rev. Dr. Morgan, Rector of St. Thomas' Church, and was invited to preach
for him the following Sunday. His was therefore the first church in the
North in which I preached or held service of any kind after the war.

I returned to Tennessee on the 1st of September, 1865, and on the 6th of
that month, a special convention of the Diocese met in pursuance of the
call of the Standing Committee, to elect a Bishop to succeed Bishop
Otey, who had died in April, 1863. The convention met in Christ Church,
Nashville. On the second day, the convention proceeded to the election.
And in the afternoon of that day, the President of the Convention, the
Rev. Dr. Pise, announced that the clergy, by an almost unanimous vote,
had nominated me for that high office.

The laity retired to consider the nomination and soon returned and
reported that they had ratified the same. The President thereupon
announced that I had been duly elected Bishop of the Diocese of
Tennessee. With my consecration in St. Luke's Church, Philadelphia, in
the presence of the General Convention of the Protestant Episcopal
Church in the United States of America, on Wednesday, the 11th of
October, 1865, I felt that the war between the states was indeed over.




                               CHAPTER XV
                           A LONG EPISCOPATE


The consecration of Dr. Quintard to the Episcopate of Tennessee was of
peculiar significance in the history of the Church in the United States.
The consecration took place at the first meeting of the General
Convention after the close of the war. At that convention all doubts as
to the mutual relations of the Northern and Southern Dioceses were
dispelled. The latter had never been dropped from the roll of the
General Convention, notwithstanding the fact that pending the war they
had been forced by the exigencies of the case, to withdraw from the
Northern Dioceses and organize the "Protestant Episcopal Church in the
Confederate States of America." They were still regarded as constituent
members of the American National Church. Each day of the convention
meeting in 1862, the Southern Dioceses had been called in their proper
turn, beginning with Alabama; and though absent, their right to be
present was never questioned. Still the question must have arisen in the
minds of many of the Southern Churchmen as to how far this feeling might
extend among the Church people of the North.

With the General Convention meeting in Philadelphia in October came the
opportunity for the Church and the Church people of the North to express
clearly their feelings towards their Southern brethren; and this they
did, first, by the cordial welcome extended to the two southern Bishops
present, and to the clerical and lay deputies in attendance from three
Southern Dioceses; secondly, by the ratification of the consecration of
the Rt. Rev. Dr. Wilmer to the Episcopate of Alabama, which had taken
place in 1862, at the hands of Southern Bishops acting wholly
independently of the Church in the North; and thirdly, by the almost
unanimous vote upon the report made to the House of Deputies on the
Consecration of the Bishop-elect of Tennessee, wholly ignoring the
especially conspicuous official position he had held in the Confederate
army and the prominent part he had taken in the affairs of the Church in
the Confederate States. His consecration, therefore, furnished a very
significant act by which to crown the work of reunion of the Northern
and Southern Dioceses.

The service of Consecration was, in dignity of ritual, quite in advance
of the times. Dr. Quintard prepared himself therefor, by a vigil held in
the Church of St. James-the-Less. The Consecrator was the Rt. Rev. Dr.
Hopkins, Bishop of Vermont and Presiding Bishop of the Church in the
United States. Five other Bishops of Northern Dioceses united in the act
of Consecration, as did also the Rt. Rev. Francis Fulford, D.D., Bishop
of Montreal and Metropolitan of Canada, whose presence "contributed to a
growing sense of the unity of the Church throughout the whole American
continent."

In the history of the Diocese of Tennessee, the consecration of a second
Bishop marked, of course, a distinct and important epoch. That Diocese
had met with other losses than that of her ante-bellum Bishop. The war
had swept away, to a large extent, the results of his work and that of
his clergy. All the horrors of war had been visited upon the State and
Diocese. Churches had been mutilated and destroyed and congregations had
been scattered. The effects of the war were very deeply impressed upon
the mind of the new and young Bishop in the first series of visitations
made by him in his Diocese,--a sad and laborious journey beginning in
November, 1865. The evidences of devastation were fresh and visible on
every side. In some places, where before there were promising parishes
and missions, there was no fit building left standing in which services
could be held. Only three churches in the whole Diocese were uninjured
and very few were fit for occupation. Many were in ruins. The returns
from two of the parishes showed similarly severe inroads upon
congregations. In one of these there remained 65 out of 147 communicants
reported before the war. In the other, ten only remained out of 65
previously reported.

The Bishop never faltered as he confronted conditions which foretold the
anxious care, the exhausting labors, the weary journeys, the
disappointments, the fears and the griefs the coming years were to
bring. It was with the utmost cheerfulness that he took up the burdens
of the Episcopate, and in gathering up the _disjecta membra_ of the
Church in Tennessee and in strengthening the things that remained,
Bishop Quintard was a marvel. In labors, in journeyings and in "the care
of all the churches," he was truly an Apostle,--not a step behind any of
the heroes of the American Missionary Episcopate. His jurisdiction,
though nominally a Diocese, was virtually a Missionary District in all
respects save that it never received its due proportion of the Church's
funds devoted to Missionary enterprises.

With far-sighted statesmanship, Dr. Quintard perceived in 1865, that the
Church's effectiveness could be enhanced by the Division of the Diocese
of Tennessee and the establishment of the See Episcopate in the three
chief cities,--Memphis, Nashville and Knoxville. And from that time on,
a division of the Diocese that would increase the efficiency of the work
of the Church therein, was kept constantly before the minds of the
people. But strange to say, the very arguments used in support of the
plea for the relief needed, were made the excuse for not granting it.
"It is impossible for the Church to grow in such a large territory under
the supervision of a single bishop, let him work never so hard nor so
wisely," constantly pleaded the Diocese of Tennessee. "The Church is not
growing fast enough in the Diocese of Tennessee to warrant a division of
that Diocese and an increase of Episcopal supervision therein," was the
invariable reply. And so it was not until five years before the Bishop's
death,--not until after he had worn himself out by his efforts to
perform single-handed the work of three Bishops in his diocese,--not
until after repeated illness had warned him that he must have
relief,--that a Coadjutor was elected and consecrated for him.

The wide-spread popularity of Dr. Quintard, his personal magnetism and
the large-hearted charity he had manifested in time of war, were not
without their effect for a time upon the work he had undertaken.
Wherever he appeared there flocked to meet him his old friends of the
camp and battle-field. They felt that the religion he preached, having
stood the test of adversity in war-time, was a good religion for times
of peace,--a good religion to rule the every-day business of life. They
readily yielded in large numbers to his persistent appeals to them to
confess Christ before men. In his record of official acts published in
the Diocesan Journal from year to year, he noted such gratifying
incidents as the baptism and confirmation at his hands of some of the
officers and men with whom his acquaintance had begun on the
battle-field or in camp. In the few months that elapsed between his
consecration and the meeting of his first Diocesan Convention, 314
persons were confirmed by him in Tennessee, and that number was a good
yearly average of his confirmations for nearly thirty-three years; and
his 470 confirmations, 152 sermons and 112 addresses, reported to the
convention in 1867, for the first full year of his Episcopate, were a
sample of the pace he set for himself at the beginning of his
Episcopate.

But as before the war, Bishop Otey in an Episcopate of little less than
twenty-nine years, discovered that there was a remarkable tendency among
churchmen to move away from Tennessee, so it was after the war, as
Bishop Quintard was to find. Bishop Otey confirmed more than 6,000
persons in Tennessee, yet the Diocese never numbered more than 3,500
communicants before the war arrested its development. Many of those whom
the ante-bellum bishop confirmed took their way, like the Star of
Empire, westward, and began to colonize the Dioceses of Missouri, Texas
and California. Bishop Quintard, by actual count, confirmed more than
12,000 persons, and yet his Diocese was never, to the day of his death,
able to count 6,000 communicants.

Despite the difficulties of the field in which it was given him to labor
for the upbuilding of the Church, the Bishop was in the forefront of
every movement which went on in the Church in the latter part of the
nineteenth century. He was a pioneer in the adoption of the Cathedral
system in the American Church. He was among the first to utilize the
work of the Sisterhoods in the administration of Diocesan charitable
institutions. With his refined and cultivated tastes, it was natural
that he should give attention to the improvement of ecclesiastical
architecture in his Diocese. And he was a leader in the work of the
Church for the <DW64>. In 1883, a conference of bishops, presbyters and
laymen was held in Sewanee, to consider the relations of the Church to
the <DW52> people of the South. A canon was proposed for the
organization of work among <DW52> people, which, when it came before
the General Convention, was known as "the Sewanee Canon." It was never
adopted by the General Convention but the work among the <DW64>s in
Tennessee was organized in accordance with its suggestions.

In the list of the American Episcopate, Bishop Quintard's name is the
seventy-fifth. It is an unusual name, especially conspicuous by
beginning with an unusual letter. These may seem trivial circumstances
to receive mention here, but the fact is that they seem significant of
the striking position which the Bishop held among his brethren, of the
peculiarities of his personality, and of the attention he attracted to
himself throughout the country. He was, as has been seen, a link between
the ante-bellum and the post-bellum Bishop. He was likewise a link
between the clergymen of the old school and those of the new. It is
curious to those who knew him later than 1870, to see him represented in
the portraits taken soon after his elevation to the Episcopate, wearing
the "bands,"--the surviving fragment of the broad collars worn in
Milton's time. He probably gave them up about the time of his first
visit to England in 1867. He must have been among the first in America
to wear his college hood when officiating. For it is related that after
he had officiated on one occasion in a Church in Connecticut, a lady was
heard to exclaim in great indignation, "The idea of that Southern Bishop
coming to this church and wearing a Rebel flag on his back!"

In sympathy with the Oxford movement in the Church of England, he was a
leader in that movement as it affected the Church in America, and so was
called a "High Churchman," at a time when that term was of somewhat
different application from what it is now. And he was then called a
"Ritualist," and was regarded as an extremist though at the present day
he would be considered a very moderate ritualist.

He was always a welcome visitor in all parts of the country and people
not only delighted to hear him preach but especially enjoyed social
intercourse with him. His conversation was extremely entertaining,
partly because of the breadth of his experiences in times of war and in
times of peace;--as a traveller in England and as the hard-working
Bishop of a Southern Diocese, but also because his talk scintillated
with wit and quick repartee.

When some one in New York asked him why he had named a Church at
Sewanee, "St. Paul's-on-the-Mountain," he answered: "Sewanee is Cherokee
Indian for 'Mother Mountain,' and you know St. Paul preached on _Mars_
Hill." On another occasion a man was attempting to argue with him in
regard to what he chose to call "the use of forms" in the Church.
"Well," said the Bishop, "you know that when the earth was without form,
it was void; and that is the way with many Christians."

The Bishop enjoyed a reputation as a pulpit orator that became wider
than national. His voice was "as musical as the lute and resonant as a
bugle." The Southern newspapers between 1868 and 1875 praised his
eloquence and noted the fact that, in spite of his belonging to a school
of thought not altogether popular in the South at that time, people of
all shades of opinion thronged the churches to hear him preach. He was a
ready extemporaneous speaker, yet his sermons were for the most part
carefully prepared and written out and delivered from the manuscript.
Some of them became widely known through many repetitions, and not a few
became famous. One of these had a history the Bishop was as fond of
telling as he was of repeating the sermon.

It was known as the "Bishop's Samson Sermon," and was from the text, "I
will go out as at other times and shake myself." (Judges xvi, 20.) When
first delivered in one of the parishes of Tennessee, the Bishop was
informed by a disgusted hearer that it was "positively indecent," and
not fit to be preached before any congregation. Consequently the sermon
was "retired" until it was almost forgotten. Some time afterward,
however, it was by accident included among sermons provided for use on
one of the Bishop's series of visitations; and when discovered with his
homiletic ammunition, the Bishop read it over carefully but without
finding anything in it that could be characterized as indecent. So he
determined to "try it again." It made a deep and wholesome impression
upon the minds of those who then heard it.

He preached it one Sunday night in Christ Church, St. Louis, and after
the service a gentleman said to him, "Bishop, if you will preach that
sermon here tomorrow night, I will have this church full of men to hear
you." The sermon was accordingly preached the following night and the
gentleman kept his promise.

The sermon was preached at Trinity College, Port Hope, Canada; at West
Point, before a congregation of cadets; at Sewanee, Tennessee, before
successive classes of students of The University of the South;--it was
preached everywhere the Bishop went,--usually at some one's request who
had heard it before and who wanted the impression made on his mind at
the first hearing, renewed. Numberless were the letters received by the
Bishop telling him of hearing that sermon and of good resulting from it.

In his repeated visits to England, Bishop Quintard enjoyed a distinction
never before, and rarely since, accorded to any member of the American
Episcopate. The first of these visits was made in 1867 in order that he
might be present at, and participate in, the meeting of the first
Pan-Anglican or Lambeth Conference. He attended subsequent conferences
up to 1897, a few months before his death. At each of these visits he
was the recipient of an unusual amount of attention from English Bishops
and from the English people of every rank and he revolutionized the
opinions of the Englishmen of that day as to America and Americans. The
English newspapers were captivated by his powers in the pulpit. One of
the Liverpool daily papers said that "the Bishop of Tennessee speaks
English better than an Englishman and preaches with the fire and
clearness of Lacordaire."

One of the leading London papers devoted two editorial columns to a
description of him and said; "The Bishop of Tennessee is the first
American we ever heard whose speech did not bewray him." "His exterior
is impressive." "His voice strong and searching and his enunciation
deliberate." "His well-turned sentences are like solid carved mahogany."
"He is a type of the highest average of the American public man." "His
sermon was in every sense sufficient, strong, well-knit and balanced,
and adequately emotional, while never falling short of the full dignity
of the preacher's office and evident character. If the Church in America
has many such Bishops it is indeed a living, efflorescent, healing
branch of the great tree, which, according to Dr. Quintard, has never
withered a day in England since the epoch of the Apostles."

He was a guest of the Bishop of London at Fulham Palace; was present at
his ordination examinations and took part with him in the ordination of
twenty-five priests and nineteen deacons in the famous Chapel Royal,
Whitehall; at the invitation of the Bishop of London, he preached the
first sermon at the special evening services in St. Paul's Cathedral; he
officiated at the service at the laying of the corner stone of the
church of St. Paul, Old Brentford,--the stone being laid by H. R. H.
Mary Adelaide, Princess of Teck; he laid the foundation stone of St.
Chad's Church, Haggeston, London; he was present with Bishops from the
far-away South Sea Islands, from Canada, and elsewhere, at the laying of
the foundation stone of Keble Memorial College, Oxford; he reopened the
restored parish church of Garstag; he assisted the Archbishop of York
and preached the sermon at the consecration of the Church of St.
Michael, Sheffield; he assisted the Archbishop of York at the parish
church, Sheffield, where a class, numbering six hundred, was confirmed;
he administered the Apostolic rite for the Bishops of London and
Winchester; and on the invitation of the Bishops of Oxford and Ely, took
part in their Lenten Missions in 1868.

A second visit was made in 1875-6. His reception by the Most Rev. the
Archbishops, the Rt. Rev. the Bishops, the clergy and the laity of the
English Church was all that could be asked. On two occasions he
administered the Apostolic rite of Confirmation for the Lord Bishop of
London and on two occasions held confirmations at the request of the
Archbishop of Canterbury. He assisted the Archbishop of York also at the
confirmation of more than 500 candidates presented in one class.

By the invitation of the Archbishop of Canterbury, he participated in
the opening services of the Convocation of Canterbury and was the first
Bishop of the Church, not a member of the Convocation, to be admitted to
that service. The service was held in the Chapel of Henry VII in
Westminster Abbey.

He assisted at the opening service of Keble College, Oxford, the laying
of the foundation stone of which he had witnessed eight years before. He
united, with Bishops of the Anglican Communion from England and Africa,
in the consecration, in St Paul's Cathedral, of a Bishop for Asia,--the
Rt. Rev., Dr. Mylne, Bishop of Bombay.

He visited the continent also and Scotland; attended the Church Congress
at Stoke-upon-Trent; and assisted at the Consecration of the Cathedral
of Cumbrae, in the Diocese of Argyle and the Isles. Returning to England
he was again present at the opening of the Convocation of Canterbury.
The degree of Doctor of Laws was conferred upon him by the University of
Cambridge on the occasion of this visit.

He was again in England in 1881 and attended, by invitation, the funeral
of Dean Stanley, (July 25th). On the invitation of the Queen's Domestic
Chaplain, the Hon. and Rev. Dr. Wellesley, he preached in the Chapel
Royal, Windsor, on Sunday, August 14th. No American had ever previously
been invited to preach in this chapel. He took for his text on that
occasion: "If thou hast run with the footmen and they have wearied thee,
then how canst thou contend with horses? and if in the land of peace,
wherein thou trustedst they wearied thee, then how wilt thou do in the
swelling of Jordan?" (Jeremiah xii: 5.)

In these three visits, therefore, the Bishop performed every service
appertaining to the Episcopal office. Such experiences were absolutely
unique for an American Bishop at that time. It had often been asserted
that the Bishops and clergy of the Church in America were not permitted
to officiate in the Church of England. These visits of the Bishop not
only gave him an extended acquaintance among the Bishops and clergy and
prominent laity of the English Church, but changed the relations between
them and the American Church, so that the latter has since been held in
higher regard by the Church of England. How much this was influential in
leading up to the present amicable relations existing between England
and America, it is not necessary for us to inquire, though doubtless
such an influence might be taken into account in tracing up the history
of the present Anglo-American alliance.

In 1887 the Bishop was in England and was present by invitation of the
Dean of Westminster, in the Abbey at the Queen's Jubilee. He assisted at
an anniversary service of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, in the
Chapel Royal, Savoy. As a Chaplain of the Order, he attended a meeting
in the Chapter House, Clerkenwell Gate. The following year, as Chaplain
of the Order, he assisted at the Installation of H. R. H. the Prince of
Wales, (now Edward VII), as Grand Prior of the Order of St. John, in
succession to the Duke of Manchester, who for twenty-five years had held
the office.

He was also in attendance, in 1888, at the Lambeth Conference, was the
guest of the Archbishop at Lambeth Palace, and assisted at the
consecration of two Bishops. With the Lord Bishop of Peterborough, he
was presenter of one of them,--the Rev. Dr. Thicknesse, consecrated
Bishop Suffragan of Leicester, in the Diocese of Peterborough.




                              CHAPTER XVI
                      BISHOP QUINTARD AND SEWANEE


The enthusiasm with which Bishop Quintard, immediately after his
consecration, took up and pushed forward whatever promised to be of
spiritual benefit to the people of the South, was characteristic of the
man. Especially attractive to him was the scheme set forth in the
address by Bishop Polk to the Bishops of the Southern Dioceses,
published in 1856, emphasizing the importance of building up an
educational institution upon broad foundations, for the promotion of
social order, civil justice, and Christian truth; to be centrally
located within the Southern States. The scheme had been formulated and
developed by its projector and originator, Bishop Polk; and "The
University of the South" was duly organized in 1857. A liberal charter
was secured from the State of Tennessee; title was acquired to a domain
of nearly ten thousand acres of land upon the top of Sewanee Mountain;
the corner-stone of a main college building was laid; and pledges of an
endowment amounting to half a million of dollars were obtained before
the war broke out.

In the fall of 1865, before his election to the Episcopate, Dr. Quintard
met upon a train between Nashville and Columbia, the Rev. David Pise, a
prominent presbyter of the Diocese of Tennessee, and Secretary of the
Board of Trustees of The University of the South as it was organized
before the war. On the same train was Major George R. Fairbanks, of
Florida, a lay Trustee on said Board. The conversation of these three
gentlemen was upon the proposed University. The magnificent domain
secured for that institution, it was asserted, would revert to its
donors unless the proposed University were in operation within ten years
of the date of the donation, that is, in 1868. Dr. Quintard pledged
himself not only to save the domain, but to revive the scheme for the
University and to establish such an institution of learning as Bishop
Polk, Bishop Otey, and others had in view when The University of the
South was organized in 1857.

The day that he took his seat for the first time in the House of
Bishops, Dr. Quintard entered into correspondence with the Rev. John
Austin Merrick, D.D., a "man of godly and sound learning," and offered
to meet him in Winchester, Tennessee, on a specified day; to go with him
to Sewanee and see what might be done toward carrying out the
educational enterprise which was intended to mean so much to the
Southern people, and which meant all the more to them in the condition
in which the war had left them.

The way for such a movement had been prepared at the special convention
of the Diocese of Tennessee at which Dr. Quintard had been elected
Bishop. Reviving a measure that had evidently been adopted in 1861, at
the last convention over which Bishop Otey had presided, (the journal of
this convention was lost in the printing office to which it was
committed for publication,) the special convention of 1865 appointed a
committee to take measures for establishing, (with the concurrence of
the Executive Committee of the Board of Trustees of the University,) a
Diocesan Training and Theological School upon the University domain. Dr.
Quintard, as Bishop-elect, had made sure that the war had not impaired
the charter, nor up to that time, the title to the domain; even though
it had swept away the endowment, and though soldiers of both armies,
marching over the mountain and encamping about the spot, had amused
themselves by blowing up the corner-stone laid in 1860, and making out
of the fragments trinkets for their sweet-hearts.

In the course of his first series of visitations throughout his immense
Diocese, in March 1866, Bishop Quintard arrived in Winchester, and there
met the Rev. Dr. Merrick, the Rev. Thomas A. Morris, rector of the
church in Winchester, and Major George R. Fairbanks. Accompanied by
these gentlemen he ascended the mountain, visited "University Place,"
(Sewanee,) and found shelter and a most cordial hospitality in a log
cabin occupied by Mr. William Tomlinson. He selected locations for
buildings for the Diocesan Training School and a site for a chapel. In
the evening he erected a rustic cross about twelve feet in height, upon
the latter site, which is the exact spot whereon now stands the oratory
of St. Luke's Hall. Gathered around the cross with the Bishop and his
companions, were members of Mr. Tomlinson's household, a few
mountaineers and some <DW64> workmen. The Nicene Creed was recited and
the Bishop knelt down and prayed God to give to those who were then
engaging in a great enterprise, "grace both to perceive and know what
things they ought to do, and strength faithfully to fulfill the same."
The woods rang with the strains of "Gloria in Excelsis." It was a scene
worthy of association with those of the sixteenth century, where
discoverers and Conquistadores preempted new lands by planting a cross
and claiming the territory for their king and for the Church. Thus was
the domain at Sewanee reclaimed for the King of Kings and for the cause
of Christian education.

The site selected for the University in ante-bellum times was ideal for
the purpose to which it was consecrated. Sewanee is on a spur of the
Cumberland Mountains,--a plateau some two thousand feet above the level
of the sea and about one thousand feet above the surrounding valleys.
The scenery is of unparalleled grandeur with many points of picturesque
beauty,--primeval forests, cliffs, ravines and caves,--immediately at
hand. The climate is of such a character as to exempt the residents from
malarial or pulmonary troubles. It is especially adapted to the
requirements of a school whose terms were to be held in the summer
months and with mid-winter vacations, to suit the convenience of a
southern population whose home life was more or less likely to be broken
up in the summer.

The conception of a grand landed domain as an important feature in the
planning and planting of an institution of learning, was at that time
quite unusual in America. Colleges and universities had previously
looked to populous centers and environment to build them up and sustain
them. The University of the South deliberately chose to go out into the
wilderness and create therein its own environment. The site had been
carefully studied by Bishop Hopkins, who was an accomplished architect
and landscape gardener, and who had it mapped, and had a tentative
scheme of buildings designed for it upon the models of the English
Universities.

In furtherance of the enterprise, Bishop Quintard accepted the tender of
a lease, for educational purposes, of a school property in Winchester,
twelve miles from Sewanee, at the foot of the mountains; and there
established "Sewanee College," with Major Fairbanks as President of the
Board of Trustees, and with Rev. F. L. Knight, D. D., and a competent
faculty in charge. Although this Collegiate Institute was formally
opened and remained in operation for a time, the Bishop found it too
expensive for him to maintain; and so, as the University developed, he
gave up the lease of the Winchester property and concentrated his
efforts upon the work at Sewanee.

He made immediate efforts to collect funds to advance the work of
building up the Diocesan Training School. He recorded with deep
gratitude the gift of $1000 and of a handsome communion service from
Mrs. Barnum of Baltimore. The following May, out of funds thus early
collected, a building was erected and called "Otey Hall." That summer
the Bishop and Major Fairbanks erected residences near Otey Hall and
removed their families to Sewanee.

The Episcopal residence at Sewanee was at first a log dwelling-house.
This was improved and added to until it assumed the character of what
the Bishop was wont to call "the cucumber-vine style of architecture,"
and acquired the name of Fulford Hall, in commemoration of the Canadian
Metropolitan who had participated in the Bishop's consecration. Memphis
had been made the residence of Bishop Otey in the latter part of his
Episcopate, and as the work at Sewanee increased and that place became
widely known and its importance recognized, the Memphians regarded it
with some jealousy and sought to secure the person of the Bishop by
providing a residence for him in that city on the western borders of the
Diocese. The Bishop accordingly adopted Memphis as his winter residence.
But his work at Sewanee was too dear to his heart to permit his
abandoning his home there,--as much as a Bishop could be said to have a
home anywhere. And so while Memphis became officially the ecclesiastical
capital of his Diocese, he strove earnestly to make Sewanee the
scholastic, and, to some extent, the ecclesiastical capital of all the
Southern Dioceses, and in great measure he succeeded.

It would be impossible to estimate the value of the Bishop's thus fixing
his residence at Sewanee, not only to the work of building up the
University, but in its influence upon the cause of Christian education.
For The University of the South "has been built up upon men, not upon
things." The faith, the enthusiasm and the personal magnetism of Bishop
Quintard drew around him at Sewanee a band of high-minded and
consecrated clergymen and laymen of fine scholarship and noble aims.
Thus was realized the idea of Bishop Polk, who, when on one occasion he
was asked in reference to the apparently isolated location of the
University, "Where will you get your society?" replied, "We will make
it; and not only so, but we will surround our University with such a
society as is nowhere else possible in this land."

The tone, the temper, the social and religious atmosphere of Sewanee
came from Bishop Quintard more than from anyone else. For the first
twenty years of the University's existence at least, it could almost be
said that Bishop Quintard was Sewanee and that Sewanee was Bishop
Quintard; and throughout that period Fulford Hall was the visible center
of Sewanee life. Into it the Bishop gathered the spolia of his travels,
rich art treasures, rare and valuable books and autographs, and made it
a most interesting place to visit. When the building was destroyed by
fire in June, 1889, most of its interior attractions were saved from the
flames through the energetic efforts of the students of the University,
and the elegant building which replaced it, retains the name of Fulford
Hall. Therein the Bishop passed the last years of his life. It is still
the residence of the Vice-Chancellor of the University.

Bishop Elliott of Georgia, the senior Bishop of the Southern Dioceses,
was likewise deeply interested in the University and was ex-officio
Chancellor. At the suggestion of Bishop Quintard, he called a meeting of
the Board of Trustees to be held at "University Place" in October, 1866.
It was attended by the Bishops of Georgia, Mississippi, Arkansas and
Tennessee, respectively, together with several clerical and lay members
of the Board who unanimously resolved that the work of establishing the
University be prosecuted. Bishop Quintard was appointed a Commissioner
to solicit funds for the erection of plain but substantial buildings, in
order that the University might begin its work at the earliest possible
date. He accordingly made a trip to New Orleans where he held services
in all the churches and made an earnest appeal at every service to the
church people of that city to carry on the work in which the first
Bishop of Louisiana had been so deeply interested.

He was able to report the results of his visit to New Orleans, at a
meeting of the Board of Trustees held at a private residence in
Montgomery, Alabama, in February, 1867. Bishop Elliott had died in
December, 1866, and Bishop Green, of Mississippi, had succeeded him in
the Chancellorship of the University. Bishop Quintard's report to the
Board was of such a character that the Board proceeded to the
reorganization of the University forthwith. The Bishop offered Otey
Hall, at Sewanee, which was capable of accommodating a goodly number of
students, as part of the property of the University, on condition that
the Board adopt the Diocesan Training School (for which the building had
been intended,) as the Theological Department of the University, and the
offer was accepted. The actual establishment of the Theological
Department was delayed, however, for nearly ten years and until more
favorable opportunities offered.

The deliberations of the Board upon the question of the most feasible
plan for beginning work, resulted in the recommendation that a
Vice-Chancellor be elected, and that this officer be charged with the
duty of soliciting subscriptions and otherwise advancing the interests
of the University. Bishop Quintard was thereupon elected Vice-Chancellor
and Major Fairbanks was appointed Commissioner of Lands and Buildings to
act as General Agent and Business Manager; to be associated with the
Bishop in the work of soliciting subscriptions; to reside at the
University site; and, under the direction of the Executive Committee, to
have charge of all business affairs of the University.

No more efficient officers could have been selected, and with this
action of the Board, the University scheme might be said to have been
fairly launched. Of the trials and antagonisms the Bishop was to meet
with in his work, there is no need to speak now. It was no easy matter
to solicit funds for this project at that time. Not only had the South
been impoverished by the war, but the Southern people had not become
fully acquainted with the changed condition of their affairs, and did
not fully appreciate the value of a plan to educate their sons and make
the best citizens of them.

In June, 1867, at the request of the Trustees, the Bishop made an
attempt to raise funds for the erection of additional buildings,
confining his efforts to the state and Diocese of Georgia. Early in
August the corner-stone of St. Augustine's Chapel was laid by Bishop
Green, in the presence of a concourse of clergy and laity. The occasion
was signalized by a dignity of ceremonial befitting the prospective
magnitude of the undertaking. The function began with a celebration of
the Holy Communion in the portion of Otey Hall then used as a chapel.
The Bishops and clergy moved in solemn procession to the spot selected.
The Doctors wore hoods expressive of their degrees. A scholastic as well
as an ecclesiastical tone was thereby given to the function, and from
that time forward The University of the South conformed in the details
of its regulations to the models set by the English Universities. In
1871, the University, then in full working order, adopted the cap and
gown for the distinctive uniform of its advanced students, divided the
Academic Department into Juniors and Gownsmen, and provided rich robes
for the Chancellor and Vice-Chancellor. In these respects it was quite
in advance of other institutions of learning in America, though its
customs have since grown in favor with other and older universities.
Still it was possible for some one who attended the commencement in
1891, to write:--"Probably nowhere else in America is there any such
formal and stately collegiate ceremony as at Sewanee."

In 1867, the Bishop being in England, he consented at the earnest
solicitation of his friends, to spend the winter there, and to do what
he could to promote the cause of the University. The influential friends
he made in England took up with enthusiasm a movement which resulted in
such liberal offerings that the University was enabled to start afresh
with most encouraging prospects of final and complete success.

The Rev. Frederick W. Tremlett, of St Peter's Church, Belsize Park,
London, inaugurated the movement and a committee was appointed which
issued a circular inviting subscriptions. The committee consisted of the
Archbishop of York, the Earl of Carnarvon, Viscount Cranbourne,
(afterwards Lord Salisbury,) the Lord Bishop of Oxford, Earl Nelson,
Lord John Manners, the Rt. Hon. W. E. Gladstone and others. The
Archbishop of Canterbury, the Most Rev. Campbell Tait, in a letter,
expressed his deepest interest in the project and subscribed twenty-five
pounds toward it. The Archbishop of York, and Bishops of the Anglican
Communion from all parts of Her Majesty's realms, expressed a like
sympathy. Among the subscribers were names of great distinction both in
state and church. Considerably more than ten thousand dollars was
thereby raised, and with this sum the Bishop returned to America. Much
needed buildings were erected in Sewanee, and on the 18th of September,
1868, as Vice-Chancellor, the Bishop formally opened the Junior
Department of The University of the South. Thus after twelve years of
labor and anxiety, of disappointment and sorrow,--after the death of
Bishops Polk, Otey, Elliott, Rutledge and Cobbs,--all of them actively
interested in the project for building a Church University of the first
class in the South that would in some degree do for our country what the
Universities of Oxford and Cambridge have so well done for England and
the civilized world,--The University of the South began its work for God
and our land. That day has since been annually observed at Sewanee as
"Foundation Day."

Among the men who were early attracted to the work at Sewanee, were
Brigadier-General Josiah Gorgas, (who had been head of the Confederate
Ordnance Department, and became at first head-master of the Junior
Academic Department of the University, and was afterward made
Vice-Chancellor;) Brigadier-General F. A. Shoup, (who was now the Rev.
Professor Shoup, acting-chaplain and Professor of Mathematics;) General
E. Kirby-Smith; and Colonel F. T. Sevier, the Bishop's old friend of the
First Tennessee Regiment, who became Commandant of Cadets and
head-master of the Grammar School. For it was but natural that the
military feature of the school should commend itself to men who had just
passed through war and had seen the benefit of military discipline upon
life and character. These men felt that a higher duty awaited them at
the close of the war, than trying to make money,--that the training of
the youths of the land as Christian citizens was of paramount
importance,--and they gave themselves up to that educational work.

The splendid sacrifice of these and others set high the standard of the
University and invested it with a poetic beauty and a sacredness that
dwells there still. "Nowhere in the South," said Charles Dudley Warner,
in 1889, "and I might say, nowhere in the Republic, have I found
anything so hopeful as The University of the South." "Of the wisdom of
founding this University," said a visitor who spent the summer of 1878
at Sewanee, "no one would question after a single visit here. Its
highest development is yet to be obtained. Its present standard is equal
to the best, but its aims are to reach the highest and best culture
obtainable. It is slowly and surely reaching forward and satisfactorily
filling the measure of its allotted work.... It is difficult to explain
to one who has had no opportunity for a personal observation, how many
excellent formative influences are here combined.... Everything here
promotes a feeling of reverence and respect for sacred things. The
presence and influence of men of high standard in Church and state,
whose example is potent for good.... The book of nature is always open
here to the investigations of the geologist, the botanist, and the
student of natural history.... The physical education goes on with that
of the intellect; an invigorating atmosphere strengthens the
capacity.... The various gymnastic and military exercises give a clear
complexion, an elastic step and a noble carriage; and then mind and
body, acting in healthy unison, fill out the measure of a well rounded
man."

Bishop Quintard's ideals regarding the University to the upbuilding of
which he was giving the most valuable years of his life, were shadowed
forth in his words to the Convention of his Diocese in 1874, in
referring to the meeting of the Board of Trustees which he had attended
the previous year. "It is the aim and purpose of any true system of
education to draw out, to strengthen and to exhibit in active working,
certain powers which exist in man,--planted, indeed, by God, but latent
in man until they shall have been so drawn out. Education is not the
filling of a mind with so much knowledge, though, of course, it includes
the imparting of knowledge. As education is the drawing out of the
dormant powers of the whole man, it must in its highest sense be
commensurate with the whole man. The body must be trained by healthful
exercise, the mind or thinking power, must be drawn out and
strengthened, and finally a heart must be sanctified and a will subdued.
It is the aim and object of The University of the South to give to its
students every advantage,--physical, mental and moral; to develop a
harmonious and symmetrical character; to fit and prepare men for every
vocation in the life that now is, where we are strangers and sojourners;
and to teach all those things which a Christian ought to know and
believe to his soul's health. The momentous and concerning truth that
intellectual power unrestrained and unregulated by sound moral and
religious principle tends only to mischief and misery in our race, has
been in the educational systems of the age, almost overlooked."

The heroic struggle the University was making, began to attract admiring
attention. Gifts began to flow into it,--small as compared with those
that have been given to the cause of education in these later days, but
large when the impoverished condition of the South from which many of
them came, is taken into consideration. And not only was the continued
existence of the University guaranteed, but its ultimate success was
assured.

The responsibility and work devolving upon the Vice-Chancellor of a
University, even in its nascent stages, were too great a burden when
added to the cares of a large and exacting Diocese, and Bishop Quintard
resigned the office of Vice-Chancellor in 1868 in order that some one
else might be elected to fill that position. An effort to secure the
valuable services of General Robert E. Lee, for the University, resulted
in the following letter:--

    WASHINGTON COLLEGE, LEXINGTON, VA., 23 Sept., 1868.

    RT. REV'D. AND DEAR SIR,--Absence from Lexington has prevented me
    until to-day from replying to your kind interesting letter of the
    20th of August last. I have followed with deep interest the progress
    of The University of the South from its origin, and my wishes for
    its success have been as earnest as my veneration for its founders
    and respect for its object have been sincere. Its prosperity will
    always be to me a source of pleasure, and I trust that in the
    Providence of God its career may be one of eminent benefit to our
    country. That it has survived the adverse circumstances with which
    it has been surrounded and has surmounted the difficulties with
    which it has had to contend, is cause of great rejoicing to me, and
    I am glad to learn that it has so fair a prospect of advancement and
    usefulness.

    I need not, then, assure you that I feel highly honored that its
    Board of Trustees has thought of me for the office of
    Vice-Chancellor, and I beg that you will present to them my fervent
    thanks for their favorable consideration. They have, however, been
    misinformed as to my feelings concerning my present position, and
    even were they as represented, I could not now resign it with
    propriety unless I saw it would be for the benefit of the college. I
    must therefore respectfully decline your proposition, and ask you to
    accept my grateful thanks for the frank and courteous manner in
    which it has been tendered, as well as for the considerate measures
    you proposed to promote my convenience and comfort.

    I am, with great respect and highest regard, your friend and obt.
    servt.,

    R. E. LEE.

    Rt. Rev'd. WM. M. GREEN, D.D., Chancellor of University of the
    South.

Commodore Matthew Fontaine Maury was then elected by the Board, and when
Commodore Maury declined, the Bishop withdrew his resignation and
continued his work. In various parts of the South, in the North and in
England, he represented the needs of the University.

A trip made to New Orleans and Galveston in 1870 was in some respects
characteristic of the Bishop's appeals and of the breadth of scope of
the University as presented by him. In Galveston, the first person who
responded to his appeal was a Hebrew; one of the most active helpers was
a Presbyterian, and these two with a Churchman composed a committee to
work for The University of the South.

In 1871 the Academic Department was formally organized by the election
of five professors. In 1872, the Bishop again resigned the
Vice-Chancellorship and General Gorgas was elected to succeed him.
General Gorgas was in time succeeded by the Rev. Dr. Telfair Hodgson,
and he in turn by the Rev. Dr. Thomas F. Gailor. In 1893 the last named
was succeeded by Bishop Quintard's son-in-law, Dr. B. Lawton Wiggins, an
alumnus of The University of the South, and the preserver of what his
father-in-law had founded.

But the Bishop's interest in the University was not relaxed. Wherever he
went he represented the needs of the University as well as those of his
Diocese. In 1876, he attended a "matinee" at the London residence of
Lord Shrewsbury. Cards of invitation had been issued by the Earl and
Countess of Shrewsbury and about three hundred guests assembled. The
Lord Bishop of Winchester presided at this meeting, which was organized
in the interests of The University of the South--not so much to collect
money for the University as to make known in England the work the
University was doing. The Church in Scotland was represented by the
Primus and by the Bishop of Edinburgh; the Irish Church by the Bishop of
Derry and Raphoe and by the Bishop of Moray and Ross. A large number of
prominent clergymen were present. Addresses were made by the Bishops, by
Lord Shrewsbury, A. J. Beresford-Hope, M.P., and others.

In 1887 Bishop Green died and was succeeded in the Chancellorship by
Bishop Gregg of Texas. When the latter died in 1893, his logical
successor was Bishop Quintard, who, however, felt unfitted for the
office by reason of his infirmity of deafness which had come to him in
his later years. He accordingly stood aside and favored the election of
the Rt. Rev. Dr. Dudley, Bishop of Kentucky.

Bishop Quintard had seen buildings of permanent character grow up upon
the University domain,--built of Sewanee sand-stone, unsurpassed either
in quality or appearance as a building material. He had seen the
Theological Department opened in 1878, the Medical Department opened in
1892, and the Law Department in 1893. He had acted as consecrator at the
elevation of an alumnus of the University to the Episcopate of
Louisiana[A]. He had consecrated as his own coadjutor one whose life had
been closely connected with Sewanee and the University. He had ordained
to the priesthood many alumni. He had seen degrees conferred upon many
men who were to go out into the world and carry the influence of the
noble work the Bishop himself had done so much toward establishing. And
in many ways he had seen in the Church University, whose broad
foundations had been wisely laid by godly men who inaugurated the
enterprise, a visible advance made toward the ideals set for it by its
founders and re-founder.

Footnote A:

  Five other alumni have been elevated to the Episcopate since the
  Bishop's death.

The last Convention at which the Bishop presided, was held in Sewanee in
1897. The Bishop, shortly afterward, went to England to be present at
the Lambeth Conference held that year. He returned to Sewanee somewhat
refreshed in body and resumed the work of his Diocese. But further rest
became necessary and he went to Darien, Georgia, in search thereof.
There the end came on the 15th of February, 1898. His body was brought
back to Sewanee, lay for a time in the Otey Memorial Church, watched by
the clergy and the Sisters of St. Mary, and was thence taken to St.
Augustine's Chapel, where the service was said over it by the Bishops in
attendance. The University was not in session at the time, but the
University town was filled with sorrowing friends, representing the Army
of the late Confederate States, the clergy and laity of the Diocese, the
House of Bishops, and the alumni of the University. The Coadjutor Bishop
of Tennessee, now Bishop Quintard's successor, committed his body to the
ground in the Sewanee cemetery.

A movement was begun soon after the Bishop's death to endow a
professorship in the Theological Department of the University as a
memorial of him. Very fittingly, the new Grammar School Dormitory,
erected on the University domain in 1901, was named the "Quintard
Memorial." But the greatest monument and the most lasting one, to the
second Bishop of Tennessee, is and will be the University which he
re-founded and did much to build up.

THE END




                                APPENDIX


The following is a copy of the petition, with signatures attached, of
the Rock City Guard, which induced Dr. Quintard to suspend his parochial
work in Nashville, and enter the military service of the Confederacy.

    We the undersigned members of the "Battalion of Rock City Guard" do
    hereby respectfully invite the Rev. C. T. Quintard to accompany us
    throughout the campaign as our friend and spiritual adviser, and we
    hereby pledge ourselves to sustain him and attend regularly whatever
    service he may institute, being willing to be guided by him.

    F. J. Reamer, C. H. Stockell, John Gee Haily, W. Wills, E. C.
    Leonhard, John B. Johnson, Robt. Gordon, B. M. Franklin, Nat
    Hampton, jr., Jno. M. Pearl, Robert Swan, John W. McWhirter, John W.
    Branch, D. W. Sumner, M. N. Brown, Joseph Freeman, J. C. March, R.
    J. Howse, Jas. McManus, R. S. Bugg, E. W. Fariss, Douglas Lee, Sam
    Robinson, F. I. Loiseau, V. L. Benton, Wm. T. Hefferman, James P.
    Shockly, Wm. Morrow, Berry Morgan, Rowe Foote, R. R. Hightower, H.
    B. Finn, Joseph A. Carney, D. J. Roberts, J. H. Hough, A. W. Harris,
    I. M. Cockrill, R. A. Withers, R. W. Gillespie, J. H. Bankston,
    Harry Ross, R. Darrington, T. J. Gattright, John K. Sloan, B. J.
    McCarty, L. H. McLemore, A. J. Phillips, W. A. Mayo, R. H. Fiser,
    James T. Gunn, Wm. A. Ellis, T. H. Atkeison, R. B. Rozell, R.
    Cheatham, W. N. Johns, J. P. Shane, J. L. Cooke, Geo. A. Diggons, T.
    O. Harris, Victor Vallette, D. G. Carter, J. W. Thomas, J. Clarke,
    F. M. Geary, W. B. Ross, Wm. Baxter, J. T. Henderson, John W.
    Barnes, James P. Kirkman, H. N. Stothart, D. K. Sanford, R. W.
    Burke, James Carrigan, T. H. Griffin, W. P. Prichard, J. H. Allen,
    P. Bartola, G. T. Hampton, F. H. Morgan, Wm. R. Elliston, jr., Wm.
    H. Everett, T. B. Lanier, I. L. Smith, T. C. Lucas, W. P.
    Wadlington, Jas. W. Nichol, Wm. B. Maney, John A. Murkin, jr., J.
    Walker Coleman, Jo H. Sewell, G. E. Valette, Geo. M. Mace, Mason
    Vannoy.




                                 INDEX


 Aberdeen, Miss., 124

 Adams, Gen. John, 112-114

 Adams, Maj. Nathan, 114, 123

 Aiken, Gov. of S. C., 127

 Anderson, Dr. H. M., 103

 Anderson, Gen. S. R., 17, 19, 20, 39

 Anderson, Lieut., 117

 Annandale, Miss., 50, 51

 Appomattox Court House, 143

 Armstrong, Frank, 107

 Ashby, Capt. Turner, 38

 Ashwood, Tenn., 107, 115

 Athens, Ga., 5

 Atkinson, Bishop, 14

 Atlanta, 72, 95-102, 115, 142-145

 Augusta, Ga., 80, 99


 Back Creek, Va., 16

 Bainbridge, Ga., 123

 Baird, Mr., 34

 Bakewell, Rev. Mr., 125

 Ballentine, Capt., 123

 Ballentine, Mrs., 122

 Bardstown, Ky., 56

 Barnum, Mrs., 161

 Barrow, Gen. Washington, 12, 136

 Baskerville, Col., 127

 Bate, Gen., 107

 Bath, 37

 Bath Alum Springs, 34

 Battle, Col., 104, 105

 "Beaufort," 47

 Beaumont, Maj. E. B., 145

 Beauregard, Gen. G. P. T., 104, 108

 Beckwith, Bishop John W., 98, 105, 129

 Beresford-Hope, Hon. A. J., 181

 Bethune, Gen., 102

 Big Sewell Mountain, 32, 33, 36

 Blackwell, Capt., 114

 "Blind Tom," 102

 Bolivar, Tenn., 111

 Bombay, Bishop of, 161

 Bradford, Capt., 106, 107

 Brady's Gate, 26

 Bragg, Gen. Braxton, 55, 56, 64, 65, 67, 69, 70, 72, 77-80, 87, 88, 92,
    95

 Brentwood, 120

 Bristol, 13

 Brown, Gen. John C., 93, 107, 112, 115, 133-135

 Brown, J. Rhodes, 65, 102, 103, 135

 Buchanan, Capt., 46, 47

 Buckner, Gen., 55

 Buell, Gen., 56

 Buist, Dr. J. R., 12, 27, 54, 64, 66, 117

 Bullock, Capt., 37

 Burke, Boykin & Co., 93

 Butler, Capt. Jack, 27, 65

 Butt, Lieut. Walter, 43


 Cambridge University, 175

 Canterbury, Archbishop of, 174

 Capon Mountain, 37, 38

 Carnes, Capt. W. W., 57, 58

 Carnes Hospital, 103

 Carter, Gen. John C, 112, 115-119

 Chalmers, Gen., 55, 107

 Chaplain's Creek, 60

 Charleston, S. C., 14, 136

 Chattanooga, 54, 55, 64, 67, 69, 88, 92, 95, 145, 146

 Cheatham, Gen. B. F., 59, 70, 106, 107, 109, 122

 Cheat Mountain, 19, 23, 28, 30

 Cheat Pass, 19, 23

 Chickamauga, 87-94, 110

 Childress, Miss Bettie, 133, 134

 Clare, Maj. William, 120

 Clark, Rev. Mr., 80-82

 Clayton, Gen., 124

 Cleburne, Gen. Pat., 59, 93, 112, 113, 116

 Clouston, William, 117

 Cobb, Gen. Howell, 44, 136, 138, 144

 Cobbs, Bishop, 175

 Cockrill, Gen., 112, 117, 118

 Cockrill, Sterling, 106

 Columbia, S. C., 135

 Columbia, Tenn., 23, 72, 108, 115-123, 164

 Columbia Institute, 116

 Columbus, Ga., 65, 102, 104, 131-145

 Columbus, Miss., 106, 125-128

 "Congress," 45-48

 Cooper, Hon. Edmund, 80, 81

 Corinth, Miss., 107

 Cowan, Tenn., 87

 Cross, Rev. Dr. Joseph, 59, 60

 Crouch's, 19, 26

 "Cumberland," 45, 46

 Cumberland Gap, 64

 Cumbrae, 161


 Dalton, Ga., 96

 Danville, Ky., 56

 Darien, Ga., 182

 Davis, Jefferson, 42, 58, 92, 95, 132, 133, 137, 143

 Dawson, Col., 135

 DeBow, James D. B., 127

 Demopolis, Ala., 98, 105, 129

 Derry and Raphoe, Bishop of, 180

 Donelson, Gen., 17, 19, 24

 Duck River, 108, 121, 123

 Dudley, Bishop, 181

 Duffie, Hon. George, 14

 Dunlap, Gen., 104, 105, 118

 Dunnington, Frank, 130

 Duval, Maj., 17



 Edinburgh, Bishop of, 180

 Edgefield, Tenn., 6

 Edrai, 31

 Edward VII, 162

 Eggleston, Lieut. J. R., 46

 Elk River, 124

 Elliott, Bishop, 73-80, 91, 96-99, 101-105, 111, 128, 171, 175

 Ely, Hon. Alfred, 15

 Elzy, Gen., 127

 Ewell, Col., 99


 Fairbanks, Maj. George R., 165, 166, 169, 172

 "Felix Old Boy," 16

 Field, Capt., 23

 Finley, Gen., 138

 Fitzhugh, Col., 51

 Flournoy, Capt. William, 116

 Floyd, Gen. J. B., 32

 Foard, Dr., 120

 Forney, Gen., 50

 Forrest, Gen., 119, 122, 123

 Fort Donelson, 40

 Foster, Capt., 32

 Foster, Dr., 128

 Foundation Day, 175

 Franklin, Tenn., 28, 111, 112-124

 Freemantle, Lt.-Col., 76, 77

 Freese, Lieut. H. H., 139, 140

 Frierson, Capt., 128

 Fulford, Bishop, 150

 Fulford Hall, 169, 170

 Fulton, Col., 17


 Gailor, Bishop, 180-182

 Gale, Col. W. D., 54

 Galveston, 179

 Gatewoods, 17

 Gibson, Capt. Thomas, 113, 114

 Gibson, Gen., 117

 Gist, Gen., 112, 115

 Gordon, Gen. George, 112, 115

 Gordonsville, 42

 Gorgas, Gen. Josiah, 175, 180

 Gosling, William, 69, 73

 Gracie, Gen. Archibald, 89

 Granberry, Gen., 112, 115

 Grant, Gen., 95, 142

 Gray Sulphur Springs, 52

 Green, Bishop, 99, 106, 125-128, 138, 171, 173, 179, 181

 Green, Lieut., 138

 Green, Maj. John, 109

 Green, Surgeon, 73

 Greenbrier Bridge, 34

 Green River, 55

 Greensboro, Ala., 129

 Gregg, Bishop, 181

 Griffin, Ga., 133, 134


 Hadley, Miss Mary, 120

 Hages, Miss, 121

 Hamilton Place, 107, 116, 121

 Hampton, Maj. Henry, 96

 Hampton, Mrs. Wade, 14

 Hampton Roads, 49

 Hancock, Md., 39

 Hanson, Gen., 67

 Hardee, Gen., 76, 77, 96, 97

 Harlow, Rev. W. D., 146

 Harris, Gov., 11, 55, 83, 87, 107, 111, 118, 120, 122, 123

 Harris, Rev. George C., 12

 Harrodsburg, 56, 61

 Harvie, Col., 121

 Hatton, Col., 25

 Hawks, Rev. Mr., 102, 132, 133

 Hawks, Miss Sallie C., 132

 Helm, Gen., 89

 Henry, Capt. Tom, 116, 120

 Hickey, Capt. John M., 117

 Hill, Hon. Ben, 143, 144

 Hillsboro, Va., 34

 Hodge, Capt., 141

 Hodgson, Rev. Dr. Telfair, 180

 Hood, Gen., 90, 96-100, 104, 107, 108, 111, 118, 121-126, 132

 Hopkins, Bishop, 150

 Hot Springs, Va., 32-34

 House, Bryant, 66

 House, Lieut. John, 28

 Hoxton, Maj., 73, 109, 128

 Hudson, Capt., 127

 Huger, Gen., 44

 Huger, Willie, 67, 69

 Hunter, Mr., 131

 Huntersville, Va., 16, 17, 34, 35

 Huttonville, 19

 Hurt, Col., 129


 Iodine Springs, 52


 Jack, Maj., 85, 86

 Jackson, Miss., 50

 Jackson, Gen. H. R., 19, 24

 Jackson, Gen. T. J., (Stonewall) 1, 36-40, 59

 Johnson, Gen. Bushrod, 59

 Johnson, Gov., (President) 81, 136

 Johnston, Gen. Albert Sidney, 41, 53

 Johnston, Capt., 85

 Johnston, Gen. Joseph E., 40, 41, 69, 70, 95-97, 102, 126, 134

 Johnstone, Mrs., 50

 Jones, Capt. Ap Catesby, 48, 130

 Jones, Capt., 107

 Jones, Lt.-Col., 118, 119

 Jones, Hon. Thomas, 123

 Jones, Mrs. Thomas, 124


 Keble College, Oxford, 161

 Kelly, Capt., 120, 129

 King, Capt. Thomas Edward, 12, 89, 90

 Kingston, Ga., 145, 146

 Kirby-Smith, Gen., 56, 62-64, 175

 Knight, Rev. Dr. F. L., 168

 Knoxville, Tenn., 5, 13, 41, 152


 Lamb's Ferry, 123

 Lambeth Conference, 182

 Lambeth Palace, 163

 Latané, Rev. James A., 16, 33

 Lay, Bishop, 99, 100

 Lay, Capt. J. F., 50

 Lee and Gordon's Mills, 88

 Lee, Fitzhugh, 29

 Lee, Gen. Robert E., 1, 18, 19, 29-33, 108, 109, 143, 178, 179

 Leicester, Bishop of, 103

 Letcher, Gov. John, 40

 Le Vert, Madame, 50

 Lewisburg, 35

 Liddell, Gen., 77, 93

 Lincoln, President, 10, 11, 131, 136, 137, 143

 London, 160

 Long, Capt., 116

 Longstreet, 88, 89

 Lookout Mountain, 92

 Looney, Maj., 12, 23, 27, 31, 32

 Loring, Gen. W. W., 18, 19, 29, 34-44, 49-54

 Louisville, 56

 Loyall, Benj., 43

 Lynchburg, Va., 13

 Lytle, Col., 81


 Macon, Ga., 93, 99, 107, 138, 139, 142, 145

 Macon, Miss., 106

 Mallory, Hon. Mr., 143, 144

 Manassas, 41, 42, 90

 Manchester, Duke of, 162

 Maney, Gen. George, 11, 18, 20, 57, 59, 74, 128

 Manigault, Gen., 74, 112, 116, 121

 Manners, Lord John, 174

 Marietta, Ga., 91, 97

 Markham, Rev. Mr., 107

 Marks, Col., 67

 Marsh, Lieut. John, 91, 92, 111, 116, 122

 Martin, Gen., 81

 Mary Adelaide, 160

 Mason, Maj., 98

 Maury, Com. M. F., 179

 Mayrant, Capt., 107

 McCook, Gen., 56, 88, 141

 McGavock, Col. John, 113

 McGuire, Mrs. Judith W., 43

 McKinney, Adjt., 116

 Memphis, Tenn., 5, 6, 58,127, 152, 169

 Meredith, Rev. Mr., 36

 Meridian, Miss., 105, 128, 129

 Merrick, Rev. Dr. John A., 165, 166

 Merrill, Dr. Ayres P., 5

 Merrill, Lieut., 23

 "Merrimac," 44-48

 Mines, John Flavel, 15

 "Minnesota," 48

 Missionary Ridge, 92

 Mitchell, Rev. Mr., 131

 Mobile, 50, 116

 "Monitor," 45-49

 Montgomery, Ala., 50, 104, 131, 132, 137, 171

 Moray and Ross, Bishop of, 181

 Morerod, Capt. Ralph, 133

 Morgan, Rev. Dr., 147

 Moore, Maj. William E., 120, 121

 Morris, Rev. Thomas A., 166

 Mott, Dr. Valentine, 5

 Mount Pleasant, Tenn., 107

 Mumfordville, Ky., 55

 Murfreesboro, Tenn., 23, 58, 64-69, 110

 Myer, Col., 51

 Mylne, Bishop, 161


 Narrows, 51

 Nashville, Tenn., 6, 8, 10, 11, 26, 33, 56, 63, 67, 68, 80, 108, 109,
    111, 120-122, 136, 145, 146-148, 152, 164

 "Nellie Peters' Pocket Handkerchief," 101

 Nelson, Earl, 174

 New Orleans, La., 171, 179

 Newport News, 45

 New River, Va., 51

 New York, 5, 147

 Nichol, Dr. William, 12

 Noble, Samuel, 140-142

 Norfolk, Va., 42-50


 Okalona, Miss., 106

 "Old Blizzard," 53

 Order of Southern Cross, 92, 94

 Otey, Bishop, 50, 126, 148, 154, 165, 169, 175

 Otey Hall, 169, 171

 Overton, John, 118, 120

 Oxford, 160, 175

 Oxford, Bishop of, 174


 Parkersburg Pike, 22, 23

 Parkhurst, Gen., 146, 147

 Parsons, Col. C. C., 57, 58

 Patterson, Lt.-Col., 61

 Pendleton, Rev. William Nelson, 1, 14

 Perryville, 50-63, 64, 66, 110

 Peterborough, Bishop of, 163

 Peterkin, Rev. Mr., 14, 15

 Peters, Maj. Thomas, 105

 Peters, Richard, 143, 145

 Peter's Mountain, 51

 Philadelphia, 145, 148, 149

 Phillips, Dr., 107

 Phillips, Mr., 131

 Pierce, Bishop, 50

 Pikeville, Tenn., 54

 Pilcher, Capt. Matt., 116, 118

 Pinckney, Rev. Dr., 16

 Pise, Rev. Dr., 108, 116, 119, 121, 148, 164

 Polk, Bishop and Gen., 1, 54, 57, 61, 62, 65, 67, 69-73, 76, 77, 83,
    87, 92, 93, 96-98, 101, 105, 128, 164, 165, 170, 175

 Polk, Dr. William M., 71

 Polk, Gen. Lucius, 76, 101, 108, 116, 121

 Polk Hospital, 103

 Polk, Mrs. William, 116

 Porcher, Capt., 47

 Porter, Capt. Alexander, 129

 Porter, Col., 73, 74

 Porter, Gov. James D., 111

 Porter, Rev. A. Toomer, 14

 Port Hope, Canada, 158

 Portsmouth, Va., 45

 Prince of Wales, 162

 Prince, Maj., 116, 121

 Pulaski, Tenn., 23, 114, 122, 135


 Quarles, Gen., 106, 112, 116-118

 Quintard Hospital, 65

 Quintard, Isaac, 4

 Quintard Memorial, 183


 Rains, Gen. James E., 61

 Ramsey, John C, 125

 Randolph, Tenn., 5

 Ray, Col., 104, 105, 120

 Renick, Dr., 34

 Rennick, Mr., 34

 Reynolds, Gen., 99

 Rice, Col., 120, 123, 129

 Richmond, Col. W. B., 54, 89

 Richmond, Va., 13, 14, 35, 41, 67, 95, 102, 136, 137

 Roberts, Albert, 105

 Robertson, Gen. Felix H., 135

 Rock City Guard, 6, 10-12, 19, 26, 61, 120

 Roddy, Gen., 124

 Rome, Ga., 33, 51, 65, 72

 Romney, 38-41

 Rosecrans, Gen., 23, 32, 36, 65, 67, 74, 81, 82, 87, 92

 Ruggles, Gen., 99

 Rust, Gen., 19

 Rutherford Hill, 122

 Rutledge, Bishop, 175


 Salt Sulphur Springs, 51, 52

 Sass, Jacob K., 97, 135

 Saunders, Maj., 110

 Saunders, Surgeon D. D., 91

 Schwrar, Rev. John M., 125-127

 Scott, Dr., 104

 Scott, Gen., 112

 Selma, Ala., 103, 105, 130, 136, 140

 Sevier, Col. F. T., 12, 23, 27, 175

 Sewanee, 62, 63, 87, 101, 154-158, 164-183

 Seward, W. H., 131

 Shelbyville, Tenn., 67-87

 Sherman, Gen. W. T., 70, 107, 108

 Shoup, Gen. F. A., 101, 175

 Shrewsbury, Earl and Countess of, 180

 Shute, Capt., 106

 Smith, Capt. John S., 132

 Smith, Gen. A. J., 132

 Smith, Gen. G. W., 98

 Smith, Gen. Preston, 89, 90

 Smith, Lieut., 73

 Snowden, R. B., 12

 Sparta, Tenn., 54

 Spence, Capt., 81, 85

 Spotswood, Lieut., 45

 Springfield, 56

 Spring Hill, 109-111, 121

 Stamford, Conn., 4

 Stanford, Dr. Frank, 81, 132

 Stanford, Capt., 85

 Stanley, Dean, 161

 Stanley, Gen., 109

 Staunton, Va., 16, 33, 35, 36, 41

 St. Augustine, Fla., 53

 St. Louis, Mo., 136, 158

 St. Luke's, Atlanta, 95-101

 Stephens, Alexander H., 131

 Stepleton, Capt., 116

 Stevens, Bishop, 5

 Stevenson, Ala., 65

 Stewart, Gen. A. P., 109, 115

 Stewart, John, 14, 15

 Stoke-upon-Trent, 161

 Strahl, Gen. O. F., 82, 84, 85, 96, 97, 111, 112, 115, 122

 Strasburg, 42

 Stribling, Dr. and Mrs., 33, 35

 Stuart, Hon. A. H. 36

 Sullivan, Mrs., 18


 Tait, Archbishop, 174

 Tattnall, Commodore, 43, 49

 Tattnall, John, 43, 49

 Taylor, Gen., 126

 Taylor, Tazewell, 43

 Thicknesse, Bishop, 163

 Thomas, Gen., 88, 89, 143

 Ticknor, Rev. Mr., 105

 Tomlinson, William, 166

 Tremlett, Rev. F. W., 174

 Tullahoma, 69, 87

 Tuscumbia, Ala., 124


 Unionville, S. C., 135

 University of the South, 62, 63, 101, 158, 164-183

 University Place, 166


 Vallandigham, C. L., 75, 76

 Valley Mountain, 13, 17, 19, 27, 31

 Van Leer, Joe, 20-26, 31

 Vaught, Mr., 121

 Vaulx, Maj., 129

 "Virginia," 44-49

 Von Zinken, Leon, 138


 Walden's Ridge, 54, 55

 Walters, Col., 87

 Walthall, Gen., 107

 Warm Springs, 34

 Warner, Charles Dudley, 176

 Warner, Gen., 133

 Wartrace, 72, 76, 77, 79

 Washington, Col. J. A., 29, 30

 Watterson, Henry, 104

 Watts, Gov. of Ala., 131

 Webb, Col., 81

 Wellesley, Rev. Dr., 161

 West, Douglas, 98

 Westminster Abbey, 161, 162

 West Point, Miss., 106

 West Point, N. Y., 57, 58, 71, 89, 128, 145

 Wheeler, Col., 16

 Wheeler, Gen. Joseph, 68, 81

 White Sulphur Springs, 32, 33, 35

 Whitfield, Needham, 124

 Wickham, Capt., 104-107

 Wiggins, Dr. B. L., 180

 Wilder, Gen., 55

 Wilmer, Bishop, 54, 105, 129, 150

 Wilson, Gen. James H., 138, 140, 141, 145

 Winchester, Bishop of, 180

 Winchester, Tenn., 165, 168

 Winchester, Va., 36, 38-42, 87

 Winder, Gen., 15

 Windsor, Eng., 161

 Wingfield, Bishop, 45, 48

 Winslow, Gen., 141

 Winter, Maj., 106

 Wood, Dr. James R., 5

 Wood, Gen., 44, 76, 77

 Woolridge, Lieut., 61

 Wright, Gen., 98


 Yates, Capt., 106

 Yeatman, Col. Harry, 54, 72, 73, 76, 130, 146

 Yerger, Mrs. George, 50

 York, Archbishop of, 174

 Young, Col., 107

------------------------------------------------------------------------




Transcriber's Notes:

Missing or obscured punctuation was corrected.

Typographical errors were silently corrected.

Spelling and hyphenation were made consistent when a predominant form
was found in this book; otherwise it was not changed.

Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Doctor Quintard, Chaplain C.S.A and
Second Bishop of Tennessee, by Charles Todd Quintard

*** 