Part 1

Transcriber's Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.

Minor typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as printed.

Mismatched quotes are not fixed if it's not sufficiently clear where the missing quote should be placed.

The cover for the eBook version of this book was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

* * * * *

John Porter Fort

A Memorial and Personal Reminiscences

The Knickerbocker Press

New York 1918

COPYRIGHT, 1918

BY

MARTHA F. FORT

THE FOREWORD

The reminiscences of his life and work were dictated to me by my father during the summer of 1916. He touched only upon the main events. There are countless unmentioned things that would add to this story of a wonderfully full life, but I leave it just as he told it to me as we sat together on the porch, or in the library by the open wood fire. To these I have added a few tributes and some clippings from Georgia newspapers.

MARTHA FANNIN FORT.

IN MEMORY OF JOHN PORTER FORT

The sweep of sky at eventide That melts within the majesty of pine; The hush that breathes serenity of space Where summer twilights linger long In benediction; Beauty of leaf and bird, Of blossom and star, Of sea and furrowed lands, Of storm that cracks the mountain peak to flame;-- These were his soul which reaching held the universe Within the circle of his brotherhood. To their haunts they called him,-- Note of thrush And wild heart of the trees. There 'mid glooms of cypress brooding moss And lakes of ebon pearl, With shy wood denizens and mist of boughs He met his God. Day beckoned him, and forth among the fields He stepped and sowed his spirit. Sowed that man might eat and live and "thank the Lord, Giver of all good gifts." And as of old did Jacob dig a well, And Moses smite to life the desert rock, So with prophetic eye He saw the hidden rivers of the earth, And brought forth drink, Praising the kind Beneficence "who fills All nature with his plenteousness," Flashing anew the ensign of his life That "man is made to overcome the world." Years sped on and still his soul unfurled From out the snowy petals of his dreams, Still buds burst greening from his pruning hook And little children smiled In answer to the welcome of his voice. While from the sky The titmouse came, Leaving her nest and company of wings To perch upon the friendship of his hands. And so Through victory of his spirit barrens bloom And earth unlocks her prisoned waters, And places that he knew are touched with light As from diffused transcendence of his life And hallowed by the passing of his feet.

KATE FORT CODINGTON.

[_Editorial from "The Constitution," Atlanta, Ga., Sunday, February 18, 1917_]

THE WORK OF JOHN P. FORT

No man of his day accomplished more in the nature of everlasting benefit for the state in which he lived than the late John P. Fort did for Georgia.

He was a man of vision--a dreamer--but with the energy and the faith and the resourcefulness to push ahead, explore his vision, and make his dreams come true; and in the doing of which he made of himself a notable public benefactor.

Especially thankful should south Georgia be for the very revolutionizing of the health conditions of that section which he did so much to bring about.

South Georgia was once afflicted with a malarial condition which seriously impaired the many advantages of that part of the state. The development of the country had been held back through generation after generation, despite its fertility and adaptability to agriculture, simply because of malarial conditions.

John P. Fort turned his attention to the problem.

"It's the water," he said. And he set himself the task of finding a remedy.

With no guide save his reason and determination, he managed somehow to bore a hole into the earth more than five hundred feet deep; and was rewarded by a stream of pure, life-giving water. That was Georgia's first artesian well; and, as he says in a remarkable letter to Alfred C. Newell, written in October, 1907, and reproduced in the magazine section of this issue of _The Constitution_:

"The well has furnished drinking water during the summer time mostly for a circular area of ten or more miles in diameter for twenty-six years, parties coming in wagons with utensils to convey the water away for drinking purposes."

That well, still flowing undiminished, proved the rejuvenation of South Georgia. It was followed by the boring of hundreds of others, and the result is that to-day residents of South Georgia are as free from the taint of malaria as are those of "the hills of Habersham."

The genius of the man again was manifested when, sensing the possibilities of the timber resources of south Georgia swamps, always before his day looked upon as worthless and inaccessible, he managed to get capital interested, and, under his guiding hand, the cypress lumber production of the state became one of its great industries.

What he did for the fruit--especially the apple--industry in North Georgia is known to every man at all conversant with the state's development.

A lake in the southern part of the state covered acres of fertile soil. Generation after generation of men had found no means of drainage. Fort found one. He studied the geological formation of the country, applied the knowledge he had gained by his artesian well operations, and reasoned that probably the lake could be drained--as no man ever had drained a lake before--from beneath. So he exploited his theory, bored a hole straight downward in the center of the lake; and the waters ran out, leaving the bed ready for the plow.

"The inhabitants of the pond were left on the muddy bottom," he writes to Mr. Newell, "among which was a large alligator. A strange and wonderful sight to behold!"

And thus he spent his useful, constructive, busy life; doing original--often daring--things, all for the good of mankind and the development of his country.

It is exceedingly gratifying too, that, unlike most men whose names illuminate the pages of our history, Fort lived to see his good works, or many of them, fructify. He was honored in life, and was appreciated for what he had done; but with the passing of time that appreciation of him and his life work will grow, and the future generations will honor and revere his name, it is safe to predict, more pronouncedly even than do we who were contemporaneous with him.

As time goes on undoubtedly the real greatness, the constructive genius of Fort will become even more generally recognized than it is to-day. The value of his great service to the community will become more apparent in the future than it has in the past; and he, in the sphere of practical scientific achievement and agricultural and industrial development, will be given rank in history along with Sidney Lanier, in poetry; Alexander H. Stephens, in politics; and Le Conte in science.

PERSONAL REMINISCENCES

My father, Dr. Tomlinson Fort, was born in Burke County, Georgia, July 14, 1787. He was the son of Arthur Fort, who was a soldier in the Revolutionary War and a prominent man in the pioneer days of Georgia. My father studied medicine at the Philadelphia Medical College under the famous Dr. Rush to whose memory he was ever attached. He returned to Georgia settling at Milledgeville, then the capital of the State. He had a large medical practice, the most extensive in middle Georgia, which he kept up until ill health forced him to retire only a short while before his death in 1859. He represented his county twelve years in the State legislature, and his district two years in Congress. He was for years president of the State Bank and trustee of the University of Georgia. He then retired from political life. He served as a captain in the War of 1812, and was severely wounded while fighting against the Indians in Florida. Had he lived until the Civil War I am sure that he would have opposed secession. He was strong for the Union, and much opposed to negro slavery. I remember hearing him say that he could never look upon his slaves, which were about fifteen or twenty, with any degree of satisfaction. He was a quiet, grave man of great sobriety and learning. For general information I have never met his equal. He had the confidence of all that knew him, the love of family and friends. He was a most kind and sympathetic father. He was the greatest man I have ever known.

My mother, before her marriage in 1824, was Miss Martha Low Fannin of the Fannin family of Georgia. She was a woman of great charm and of great strength of mind and heart. She had a large family--thirteen children--nine of whom lived to be grown. Her household consisted of ten or eleven servants. Ours was an open house, friends and relatives always coming and going. Mother was a busy woman and a very economical one, knitting our stockings and making our cloth caps. She loved her children devotedly, which love was returned by them.

I was born in Milledgeville, August 16, 1841; there I passed my boyhood and youth. My early education was at a common school. The school was carried on under the principle of the lash. It was thought necessary to force knowledge by whipping. A child missing two words in a lesson was usually whipped. My first teacher was an Englishman named White. His invariable rule was to whip a pupil found not studying his lesson. In one of my first reading lessons I had to repeat "As high as the sky" in a peculiar singing manner, which I could not do to please him. He stood over me with a hickory; I was only a little boy, seven or eight, and I was frightened. At last I said it in a way that suited him. He then grabbed me up, put me on his shoulder, and marched around the room. Our next teacher, Little, also whipped for the slightest offense. One day after school hours several boys, among whom was I, went to the schoolhouse and for revenge broke up the furniture. Fights between the teachers and larger boys were the natural outcome of such system.

When a boy I was very fond of the woods and streams, and everything connected with nature. My father took great pains to instruct me in these matters, and in talking to him and asking questions, I obtained a large insight into nature--much more than is usual with boys of my years.

I was interested specially in birds. I remember that a couple of bluebirds built their nest in a hole in a mulberry tree that grew in the yard. One day I announced that the young had hatched, as I could hear their chirpings when the parent birds approached the nest. No one else could hear them and I was blindfolded to prove my statement, which I successfully did. I timed the visits of the old birds. On the average, once in twelve minutes a worm or some insect was brought to the young. At about that time I had a small collection of birds, which I had skinned and stuffed. These I kept in my room. One day an old gentleman, Mr. Armstrong, who was visiting in our house, when told of my fondness for birds, said to me, "Young man, I have never known any one with an interest in such things who ever amounted to anything." I was greatly mortified by this harsh criticism, and made a bonfire of my birds. My mind and temperament from childhood have been those of a naturalist.

Milledgeville is on the Oconee River at the mouth of Fishing Creek. Swimming was the favorite sport with the boys of the town. I was in the water a great deal and was a fine swimmer. To give an incident I remember well: A boyhood friend, Joe Bell, was drowning; I caught him by the hair and pulled him out, thus saving his life. At a later time he saved mine in the following manner: During the Civil War, in a mix-up in a swamp, we were fired upon by some of our own men. Just as one of them had his gun leveled on me, his officer, who was Joe Bell, recognized me and threw up the man's gun. We were quits.

When sixteen years of age I entered the Freshman class of Oglethorpe College. This was a Presbyterian school, situated at a little town called Midway, about two miles from Milledgeville. The president of the college was Rev. Samuel Talmadge, an eminent Presbyterian divine. Two members of the faculty, Mr. James Woodrow, Professor of Chemistry, and Mr. Charles Lane, Professor of Mathematics, were living until a few years ago. I walked to and from college for four years, carrying my dinner bucket. There were usually five or ten of us walking together. I remember on one of these walks killing a dove with a throw of my Latin grammar. There were two literary societies at college, the Phi Deltas and the Thalians. I was president of the Phi Delta during my senior year, but I never took a high stand in my class, as I was not a student. I was more fond of nature. Especially during vacations I was in fields and woods with rod and gun, and became a proficient sportsman.

Two of my classmates are still living, Samuel Quarterman and his brother Pratt. Sam lives near Albany, Georgia, and Pratt in Quincy, Florida. Sidney Lanier, Georgia's most distinguished poet, was in my class. I remember him as a slender young man of medium height, light hair, hazel eyes, and aquiline features--an ideal picture of the poet and musician he afterwards proved to be. I do not remember that he was especially studious or wrote poetry while at college. I do remember, however, his proficiency in playing the flute. The strains of melody brought forth from this little instrument dwell with me until now. Lanier learned so easily that he carried off first honor in his class. Later we renewed friendship of college days. I remember going with him to Brunswick, Georgia, and viewing with him the broad marshes, which inspired his celebrated poem, _The Marshes of Glynn_.

College days came to a close, and I began the study of law in the office of Mr. William McKinley in Milledgeville. I was not old enough to vote, but I was an ardent follower of Stephen A. Douglas in the presidential election of 1860, and because of this, was called by the boys at college the "Little Giant" although I, in no way, resembled him in stature. I took a lively interest in the stirring events of the time. The question of negro slavery usurped the place of all other questions. Then came John Brown's raid which created an incredible excitement. No "Free Soilers" like Horace Greeley or William Lloyd Garrison dared visit the South for fear of actual violence. Then came the secession of South Carolina, Mississippi, Alabama, Florida. Georgia felt in honor bound to follow. Then came the inauguration of President Lincoln and the firing on Fort Sumter.

The proclamation of Mr. Lincoln calling for volunteers to overrun the South consolidated the people of Georgia, and as one man we offered our services in defense of our homes. The excitement was intense. I know my father, if he had been alive, would have opposed secession. Although she greatly disapproved of war and secession my mother did not put a veto on her three sons going. On the night that Georgia seceded all the houses in Milledgeville were illumined except ours.

All my strongest feelings were aroused. I felt called to defend my country. In May, 1861, I joined a company from my home town, called after my father's old company, the "Baldwin Volunteers." I entered as a private soldier. I was entirely ignorant of everything pertaining to military affairs. If I had known as I afterwards did the difference between the status of a soldier in the ranks and a commissioned officer, I doubtless would have aspired to, and obtained, a commission, but I refused to consider the matter at all. I preferred to handle a gun, as this appealed to me as being more in accordance with the patriotic fervor that encompassed my being. I was a slender, immature young man of nineteen. It looked as if I would be unable to endure the hardships of camp life, but I soon became hardened to it, and became an efficient soldier; always up on the company's line; always up on the march; always ready for any duty. The rigor of camp life agreed with me and from one hundred and thirty pounds I soon weighed one hundred and sixty.

It was the 9th of June, 1861, before arms could be obtained. Then our company was transferred to a camping ground at Atlanta, where we all duly signed articles of enlistment. We were attached to the 9th Georgia regiment. We were the first regiment to enlist for the war. All enlistments before that time had been for twelve months. The magnitude of the peril and the hardship, blood, and strife incident to our enlistment were not in the slightest anticipated. We thought it would be a short campaign. We knew nothing of the disposition of our opponents and of the bitterness and bloodshed that were to follow.

Our officers were all elected by ballot. The colonel was a Mr. Goulding, who soon dropped out. The captain of my company was Benjamin Beck of Milledgeville. I was made first corporal without asking for the position. Afterwards I was made a sergeant and acted for a while as first sergeant. I had reason to know afterwards that any office is preferable to the position of a private.

About the middle of June we were transported by rail in cattle and box-cars to Richmond, Virginia. There the regiment was drawn up in line of battle and we had our first dress parade. Our regiment was soon ordered to Strasburg, Virginia; there we disembarked from the train and commenced our march down the beautiful Shenandoah Valley to Winchester. Large wagon trains were in attendance to transport our tents and camp equipage. How great a change gradually came over our transportation department! From several wagons to a company, we were reduced eventually to one to the regiment, known as the skillet wagon, as the men kept their cooking utensils in it.

Our regiment was armed with an ordinary smooth-bore musket which shot a cartridge loaded with a ball and three buckshot. By actual trial our guns with such a cartridge were only effective a short distance, and would not bear the ball and shot at direct range more than eighty yards. Our cartridges were gradually changed to one with a single ball. Each soldier carried a belt of leather around his waist to which was attached a cartridge box containing forty rounds of cartridges and a cap box with about fifty percussion caps. This musket was used up to the end of the war, although a large part of the army gradually changed for Enfield rifles, a better gun with a range two or three times as far as a muzzle loader. The Federals had an immense advantage with their superior breech-loading Spencer rifles, which carried three times as far as our rifles, and shot ten times to our one. Toward the end of the war this was equivalent to doubling the Federal force.

During our first marches our knapsacks and all camp equipment were hauled in wagons. But soon we were required to carry our knapsacks; but we eventually threw them away, and carried our clothing in a roll. The shoes I wore were splendid,--made by a shoemaker at home, and my socks had been knitted by my mother.

At Winchester we were attached to Gen. Francis S. Bartow's brigade. The army was in command of Gen. Joseph E. Johnston, who rode down our line, and I had my first sight of our commanding general. After remaining in camp at Winchester, we were ordered to march farther down the valley toward Martinsburg. Near there we were drawn up in line of battle expecting an attack. While waiting we were suddenly ordered across the valley toward Manassas Junction. We marched all night; when the sun rose not more than one-fifth of the men had reached our destination. I was among the foremost. In this connection I wish to state that I had an extraordinary endurance on long fatiguing marches. I never met a man in the army whom I thought my superior in endurance.

Our brigade waited by the railroad expecting to be transported to Bull Run. But as transportation was very limited the 9th Georgia was left behind. We could hear the roar of battle, and early next day we were upon the historic field of Bull Run, generally known as the First Battle of Manassas. We marched over the battlefield only to see the dead and wounded Federals. I saw the first dead I had ever seen. It made an impression of horror upon me that I remember to this day.

I recollect a day or two after the battle I came upon a horse, wounded in the shoulder, standing in the shade of a tree. The wound was such that he had no power to twitch or move the muscle of his shoulder to frighten the great number of horse flies which were sucking his blood. I was struck with the wise provision of nature that gives the horse the power of shaking off insects by a twitch of the skin.

General P. G. T. Beauregard, who commanded the Confederate forces, rode down our line. We gave him a cheer, and I remember crying out, "Let us go forward." My impression was the right one. If our victory had been followed up, we could easily have captured Washington, and the outcome of the war would have been very different. But we waited and gave the aroused North full time to recover from their defeat, and place large armies in the field.

While on picket duty on the hills in sight of Washington, our regiment was under fire for the first time. I remember on one occasion I had been standing with my hand upon a plank--I moved away. A second afterwards a bullet struck the plank.

We remained several months inactive in camp, losing valuable time. Camped near us was the 28th Georgia in which was my brother George as a surgeon. We were also within a few miles of the 1st Georgia Regulars, a splendid body of men, in which my brother Tomlinson was a first lieutenant. So I had the pleasure of being near and seeing my two brothers.

During the winter of 1861-1862 the hardships of camp life, caused more than anything else by bad food and water, enfeebled my health. While lifting a heavy log I sprained my back, and was ordered to a hospital in Richmond. In Richmond I met my brother George, so did not go to a hospital, but stayed with my brother, who, on account of his poor health, was forced to leave the army. The surgeon who examined me thought I was permanently disabled, so I obtained my discharge from the ranks and went home with Brother George. At home, in a few months, I partially recovered my health and insisted on again entering the army. My mother would not consent to my entering the infantry, therefore I bought me a good horse and proposed to ride down to the seacoast where I would consider the matter, as I was at that time exempt from service. But I went to Bainbridge instead, intending, with a Mr. Campbell, to organize an artillery company. But while there I met some college friends who had enlisted in a cavalry company for the coast defense. I joined them as a private and did some hard riding for three months along the Florida coast. We were stationed at Newport, which is near the mouth of the St. Mark's River in northwest Florida. This company was a finely appointed body of men. They furnished their own horses and were splendidly mounted. They were all young men of position and education. There seemed to be no distinction between the officers and men. I do not think there was a mess in the company that did not have several servants to cook and wait upon its members.