Part 52

Hill cherished no unkind feeling toward Bragg, and at the time reluctantly reached the conclusion that it was his duty to join his comrades in urging his removal, hoping that it might still be within the range of possibility to find a leader like Jackson, who could overcome superior numbers by vigilance, celerity, and strategy.

Mr. Davis was induced to believe that Hill was the originator and most active promoter of the plan to get rid of Bragg as a chief, and both the President and General Bragg determined to visit the whole sin of the insubordination of the inferior officers of that army on him. His name was not sent to the Senate for confirmation as lieutenant-general, and the repeated efforts of Johnston, backed by many of his subordinates, to have Hill returned to the command of a corps, were refused up to the last campaign of Johnston in North Carolina. In response to repeated demands made upon Bragg and the Adjutant for a court of inquiry to report upon any charge or criticism that the latter might make, Hill at last received the answer that there were no charges to be investigated.

But it is due to the memory of General Hill that the world should know how thoroughly he retained the confidence, respect and admiration of the officers and men of the army, which Bragg left after the next fight, never to rejoin till he found Hill on the soil of his own State leading its reduced regiments in their last forlorn charge against their old foe.

The following letters, for which he did not ask, but which he treasured as testimonials of his relations to his troops to the day of his death, are submitted for the first time for the vindication of his memory against the suspicion of negligence, inefficiency, incompetency or infidelity to his trust as commander of a corps:

HEADQUARTERS CLEBURNE'S DIVISION,

MISSION RIDGE, October 9, 1863.

_General_:--In your departure from the army of Tennessee, allow me to offer you my grateful acknowledgments for the uniform kindness that has characterized all your official intercourse with my division. Allow me also to express to you the sincere regard and high confidence with which in so short a time you succeeded in inspiring both myself and, I believe, every officer and man in my command.

It gives me pleasure to add that now, though your connection with this army has ended, you still retain undiminished the love, respect and confidence of Cleburne's Division.

Respectfully, your friend,

P. R. CLEBURNE,

_Major-General_.

_Dear General_:--I have just learned officially that you have been relieved from command in this army and ordered to report to Richmond.

I cannot see you go away without sending you, in an unofficial and friendly note, the expression of my sincere regret at our separation. It has the merit of at least being disinterested. I saw you for the first time on my way to this army from Mississippi, when my division became a part of your corps, and I have had more than one occasion to express my admiration for your fidelity to duty, your soldierly qualities, and your extraordinary courage on the field.

It may gratify you to know the opinion of one of your subordinates, and to be assured that, in his opinion, they are shared by his division. I am, General,

Very truly, your friend,

JOHN C. BRECKINRIDGE,

_Major-General_.

HEADQUARTERS CORPS ARMY OF TENNESSEE,

October 15, 1863.

_My Dear General_:--Your note of to-day is received. I am surprised and grieved to learn that you have been relieved from duty with this army. We have stood side by side on so many severely contested battle-fields that I have learned to lean upon you with great confidence.

I hope and trust that you may find some other position where your services may be as useful as they can be here. * * *

Very truly and sincerely yours,

J. LONGSTREET. HEADQUARTERS CLAYTON'S BRIGADE,

NEAR CHATTANOOGA, 3 November, 1863.

_Lieutenant-General D. H. Hill_:--Returning to my command a few days ago, I regretted to learn that you had left the command of our corps, and that I had not the opportunity of telling you farewell.

I have been in the military service since the 6th of February, 1861, and I have never been under a commander to whom I and my command formed so strong an attachment in so short a space of time. In the camp we were not afraid to approach you, and on the field _you_ were not afraid to approach us and even go beyond us. This feeling was universal among privates as well as officers and to a greater degree than I have ever known towards any one except, perhaps, General Stuart. Those who have been in the military service and been _frozen to death_ by a different class of officers, alone know how fully to appreciate this.

Your friend and obedient servant,

H. D. CLAYTON.

HEADQUARTERS POLK'S BRIGADE,

October 16, 1863.

_General_:--In behalf of myself and brigade, allow me to express to you our high appreciation of your uniform kindness in all of your official intercourse with us, and to say to you that although you have not been long with us, you have gained our love, confidence, and respect; and that it was with great regret that we heard of your being taken away from us; and in being so taken away our confidence in you as a soldier, gentleman, and patriot has not been in the least diminished. We part with you, General, with the greatest regret, and hope some new field may be given you for the display of that generalship that led us to victory at Chickamauga.

Respectfully, your friend,

L. E. POLK,

_Brigadier-General_.

HEADQUARTERS LOWERY'S BRIGADE,

MISSION RIDGE, October 16, 1863.

_Dear General_:--Paragraph 2, Special Order No. 33, from Army Headquarters, relieving you from duty in this department has just been received by me. I take this opportunity to express to you my deep regret at this change. So far as I have heard an expression from the officers and men of this corps, your service with us has been _most satisfactory_. In the camp and on the march your orders were received and obeyed with the most cordial approval and with the greatest pleasure. The warm devotion that has been created in so short a time will not die while memory lives. In behalf of my brigade, permit me to express our regret on account of your separation from us, and the kindest wishes for your prosperity and happiness. For myself the memories of our short acquaintance will be warmly cherished in a devoted heart of friendship, and the guidance and protection of the Unseen Hand invoked on you wherever your lot may be cast.

May the glory of victorious fields form a wreath around your name in all time to come, and the memory of your deeds of gallantry and patriotism be cherished in the hearts of a grateful and free people.

Respectfully, General, your obedient servant,

M. P. LOWERY,

_Brigadier-General_.

Long after the war General J. E. Johnston addressed the following letter to General Hill, from which it will appear that the influence of Bragg, who was at the elbow of the President as his military adviser, was still omnipotent after he was transferred from the west to Richmond:

WASHINGTON, D. C., September 22, 1887.

GENERAL D. H. HILL:

_Dear General_:--Your conduct at Yorktown and at Seven Pines gave me an opinion (of you) which made me wish for your assistance in every subsequent command that I had during the war. When commanding the army of Tennessee, I applied for your assignment to a vacancy * * * * * * * *

Yours very truly,

J. E. JOHNSTON.

It is but just to President Davis, as well as to General Hill, to state that there was good reason to believe that the former, in his last days, became convinced that General Hill was not the author of the petition, or the principal promoter of the plan for Bragg's removal, and that it dawned upon the great chieftain that the retention of Bragg was the one mistake of his own marvelous administration of the government of the Confederacy. When Johnston and others criticised the President, General Hill, then editing a magazine that was read by every Confederate, indignantly refused to utter one reproachful word, even in his own vindication, because, as he said, the time-servers who had turned their backs on the Lost Cause were making him the scapegoat to bear the supposed sin of a nation.

Misjudged, deprived of command and made to stand inactive in the midst of the stirring scenes of the last days of the Confederacy, Hill was not a man to sulk in his tent. Volunteering successively on the staff of his old friends, Beauregard and Hoke, who appreciated his advice and assistance, he showed himself ever ready to serve the cause in any capacity.

The repeated and urgent requests of both Johnston and Beauregard that Hill should be restored to command, resulted at last in his assignment to duty at Charleston, from which place he fell back with our forces to Augusta.

When the remnant of the grand army of Tennessee reached Augusta in charge of General Stevenson, Johnston ordered Hill to assume command and move in front of the vast and victorious hosts of Sherman. The greeting given him by the little bands of the old legions of Cleburne and Breckinridge now left was a fitting tribute to an old commander whom they loved and admired. Hoping against hope, Hill was the leader above all others to infuse new spirit into the forlorn band devoted to this desperate duty. At every stream and on every eminence in his native State he disputed the ground with Sherman's vanguard till he developed a force that made it madness to contend further. Hill's reputation as a soldier depends in nowise upon successful running. This final retreat was the first and last in which he took a leading part. When once more his foot was planted upon the soil of North Carolina it was eminently fitting that he who heard the first victorious shouts of her first regiment in the first fight in Virginia would lead her brave sons in the last charge of the grand army of the great West within her own borders. Again, as in the last onset of Cox at Appomattox, North Carolina soldiers stood the highest test of the hero by facing danger in a gallant charge when they knew that all hope of success was gone forever.

The last years of General Hill's life were devoted to journalism and to teaching. As the editor of _The Land We Love_, and subsequently of _The Southern Home_, he wielded a trenchant pen and was a potent factor in putting down the _post-bellum_ statesmen who proposed to relegate to the shades of private life the heroes and leaders of the Lost Cause. As a teacher, he soon placed himself in touch with his pupils and won their love and confidence, as he did that of the soldiers led by him to battle.

His opinions, whether upon political, religious or scientific subjects, were always the result of thought and study, and were expressed in terse and clear language. As a Christian, he constantly recurred to the cardinal doctrines of Christ's divinity and His complete atonement. He wrote two religious works which evince at once his grace and force as a writer, and his unbounded trust in these fundamental truths. The subject of the one was _The Sermon on the Mount_; of the other, _The Crucifixion_.

Unmoved in the presence of danger, schooled to hide his emotion at suffering in the critical time of battle, and forced by a sense of duty to show his bitter scorn for cowardice and treachery, it was the exclusive privilege of his family, his staff and his closest friends to fathom the depths of his true nature. The soldiers who saw him in camp or on the field could as little conceive of the humble Christian who, in the long hours of the night, pleaded with his God to spare their lives and save their souls, as they could of the affectionate father, the loving husband, the sympathizing friend, and the bountiful benefactor of the poor and helpless, known only to the favored few. A writer who in his last days was admitted to the inner circle of his friends, has so beautifully expressed his idea of his true character that I cannot do better than reproduce it as not an overdrawn picture, from the standpoint of one who served on his staff, had free access to his home circle, and observed and studied his motives and conduct:

"Fancy a man in whom the grim determination of a veteran warrior is united to a gentle tenderness of manner which would not be inappropriate to the most womanly of women; ... affix a pair of eyes that possess the most indisputably honest and kindly expression; animate him with a mind clear, deep, and comprehensive, and imbued with a humor as rich as it is deep and effective; infuse man and mind with a soul which in its lofty views compels subordination of the material to the spiritual, and holds a supreme trust in the wisdom and goodness of the Almighty--is zealous in the discharge of duty, and looks with scorn on all that is mean and sinful. Add to all these a carriage that is indomitable, and a love of truth and honor which is sublime, and you have the earthly embodiment of D. H. Hill."

* * * * *

General Hill, though born in South Carolina, lived most of his life in North Carolina, the State of his adoption. In the early part of the war, if there was any hard fighting to do, Hill usually bore the brunt of it. He was essentially a "pounder," was utterly fearless, believed in his cause with his whole heart, despised traitors, and ridiculed those who sought high places as bomb-proofs. It was this habit of thus ridiculing and condemning influential men that occasioned his quarrel with Jefferson Davis, for many of his victims sought to undermine the confidence of the Confederate chief in this grim old soldier. General Joe Johnston knew him, and knew his worth, and, when he was restored to the command of the army fighting Sherman, he gave Hill the prominence which he deserved. Hill's address on the "Old South," delivered in Baltimore, is one of the best and most interesting of its kind ever published. Like Julius Cæsar, he was a good writer as well as a good fighter.

THE OLD SOUTH.

BY D. H. HILL.

_Comrades of the Society of the Army and Navy of the Confederate States in the State of Maryland_:

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN:--Years and years ago, "the time whereof the memory of man runneth not to the contrary," I was a subaltern artillery officer in the United States Army. There was great striving with the young lieutenants of that day to be stationed at Fort McHenry, for they said that everybody in the world knew that the most beautiful and graceful ladies in the solar system were in the city near by. I give this as a reminiscence of the long-ago, and not as a piece of flattery, or as an endorsement of the astronomical opinions of the lieutenants of artillery of that prehistoric period.

But to-day, the battle-scarred veterans all over the South pay a higher and grander tribute than that to the mere beauty and grace of the ladies of the present generation, when they tell with tearful eyes and husky voices of the kindness and sympathy shown them while they were hungry, ragged, sick, and suffering prisoners of war. In all ages of the world poetry and song have embalmed the ministrations of mercy of the beautiful to the brave; but these offices of charity rise into the sublime, when the gentle ministrants receive scorn, contumely, and contempt for their gracious deeds to the friendless, the hated and the despised. May God bless the noble women of Baltimore forever and forever more.

But there came a time when my people owed a still deeper debt of gratitude to your generous city. It was the time of the gentle fanning of spring breezes, of the rustling of the new-born leaves on the trees, of the wafting of perfumery from buds and flowers, of the busy humming of freshly-awakened insect life, of the gladsome singing and love-wooing of birds. The booming of cannon and the ringing of church bells told of the rejoicing of twenty-five millions of people over a restored Union. There was a gladness everywhere but in the eleven States scorched and withered by the hot blasts of war. Lee had surrendered, and sorrow had filled the hearts of those stern warriors who had battled for four years with the world in arms. But the grief of surrender had turned into sullen despair, when they came back in this joyous springtime to their suffering families to find desolation and destruction everywhere; blackened ruins marked the sites of the stately mansions of once lordly planters; the fields, once white with the world's greatest staple, were now fenceless and unplowed; "the fig-tree had not blossomed, neither was there fruit in the vine; the labor of the olive had failed, and the fields yielded no meat; the flocks had been cut off from the folds, and there were no herds in the stalls"; the cities were without business, trade, and commerce; and grass was growing in the streets of the villages almost deserted of inhabitants. "The elders had ceased from the gates, the young men from their music (yea, the best and the bravest of them filled bloody graves). The joy of their heart had ceased, and their dances had been turned into mourning. The crown had fallen from the head of their beautiful Southland, and the Lord of Hosts had seemed to cover himself with a thick cloud so that the prayers of widows and orphans could not pass through."

It was at this time, when our whole people were shrouded with a pall of gloom and anguish, and absolute starvation was imminent in many places, that the generous heart of your city throbbed with one simultaneous pulsation of pity. Then both sexes, all classes and conditions, friends and foes alike, forgetting political and sectional differences, vied with one another in sending relief to the afflicted South.

In the name of my countrymen, thus rescued from despair and death, I invoke the blessings of Almighty God upon the heads of their deliverers, whatever be their religious creed or political faith; whatever be the skies of their nativity or their opinion of the righteousness or unrighteousness of the Southern cause.

My subject is the Old South; the Old South of pure women and brave men; the South of Washington and Jefferson; of Carroll and Rutledge; of Marshall and Taney; of the Pinckneys of Maryland and South Carolina (for they were of the same stock); of Andrew Jackson and Winfield Scott; of Decatur, Mcdonough, and Tattnall; the generous Old South, which, rich, prosperous, and peaceful under British domination, cried "The cause of Boston is the cause of us all," and had her sons slain and her land desolated in defense of her Northern sister; the magnanimous Old South, which, without ships and commerce, hoisted in 1812, in the interest of the carrying trade, the banner inscribed "_Free Trade and Sailors' Rights_"; the chivalrous Old South, crying out in the person of Randolph Ridgeley, when Charley May was about trying the novel experiment of a charge of cavalry upon a battery of Mexican artillery, "Hold on, Charley, till I draw their fire upon myself." Ah! my countrymen, that Old South did many unselfish deeds which, in the slang of the day, "didn't pay." But the world was made purer, nobler, and better by them, and they should be as ointment poured forth, fragrant through all the ages.

Christopher Columbus has justly been considered mankind's greatest benefactor, and surely no one ever did great deeds under more adverse circumstances. Crowned heads had tantalized him with hope but to baffle his expectations; jealous courtiers sneered at him; men of science called him a dreamer and a madman; his own sailors were insubordinate and mutinous. Through it all, this wonderful man had borne himself grandly, never losing heart or hope until success had crowned his efforts. The fame won by Columbus stimulated the enterprise of the world for the next three hundred and fifty years, until all the highways and byways of the ocean had been thoroughly explored, and all its creeks, bays, and estuaries had been thoroughly surveyed. Then discoveries ceased, and it was said that there were no more continents, no more islands, no more coral reefs, no more sand-bars to be found in all the wide waste of waters. This lull in discovery continued until 1868, when an enterprising brother from somewhere north of Mason and Dixon's line announced to the startled world that he had discovered a hitherto unknown region of vast extent, with fertile soil, varied and wonderful products, the loveliest scenery and the finest climate on the globe--cities, towns, villages, and a vast rural population--all speaking the English language, though it was not told whether they were Christian or heathen. The great navigator had called his discovery the New World, and other navigators had called theirs New Caledonia, New Zealand, New Britain, New Hebrides, New Holland, etc.; this land navigator, of the year of grace 1868, called his discovery the "New South." The thing stranger to me than even finding this hitherto unknown land is that the English-speaking race discovered there have adopted the name given them, are proud of it, brag about it, and roll it as a sweet morsel under their tongues. All other barbarians have resented the name imposed upon them by their discoverers, and have clung to their old names, their old ideas, and their old traditions.

It will be my business at this time to speak to you, Veterans of this Association, of the Old South for which we fought, and for which so many of our comrades, as dear to us as our own heart's blood, laid down their precious lives. I would tell you, young people, of that dear Old South which has passed away, that you may admire and imitate whatever was grand and noble in its history and reject whatever was wrong and defective.

Dr. Channing, of Boston, one of the ablest and fairest of the many gifted men of the North, said more than forty years ago, that the great passion of the South was for political power and the great passion of the North was for wealth. I quote his words: "The South has abler politicians than the North, and almost necessarily so, because its opulent class makes politics the business of life.... In the South, an unnatural state of things turns men's thoughts to political ascendency, but in the Free States men think little of it. Prosperity is the goal for which they toil perseveringly from morning until night. Even the political partisan among us (the Northern people) has an eye to property and seeks office as the best, perhaps the only way, of subsistence."