Chapter 17

On the 22d of January, ten cases of muskets belonging to a firm in Macon were seized by the New York police after they had been placed on board a vessel. Governor Brown sent a telegram to Governor Morgan, demanding the release of these arms. Governor Morgan hesitated some time before he made any response. Meanwhile, Governor Brown waited three days, and then ordered the seizure of every ship in the harbor of Savannah belonging to citizens of New York. Two brigs, two barks, and a schooner were seized and held by the State troops. When this seizure was made known, Governor Brown received official notification that the arms had been released. He therefore ordered the release of the vessels. But when the agents of the Macon firm made an effort to get the arms, they were refused. Promptly Governor Brown seized other vessels, and caused them to be advertised for sale.

This was merely the beginning of those greater events that cast a shadow over the whole country. The farmer boy of Gaddistown was reelected governor in 1861, and continued to hold the office until 1865.

GEORGIA IN THE WAR.

When the Southern Confederacy was organized at Montgomery, Ala., there was great enthusiasm all over the South, especially in Georgia; and this feeling kept up until the State had given to the Confederate armies a hundred and twenty thousand soldiers, twenty thousand more than its voting population. By reason of the fame and number of its public men, Georgia had a controlling influence in the organization of the new government. Howell Cobb was president of the convention of the seceded States that met in Montgomery on the fourth day of February, 1861; and it is well known that the convention itself was in favor of making Robert Toombs president of the provisional government that was there formed. Mr. Toombs, however, expressly forbade the use of his name. The Georgia delegates then concluded to support Jefferson Davis of Mississippi for president, and Alexander H. Stephens of Georgia for vice-president.

Only a few men doubted that the South would conquer the North, and among these was Herschel V. Johnson. There was an idea abroad, that one Southerner could whip a dozen Northerners. Nobody knows how this idea got out, nor why the absurdity of it was not plain to all; but the newspapers were full of it, and the speech makers insisted on it so roundly that the people began to believe it. One orator declared that he could take one company of "Southrons," arm them with popguns, and run a regiment of Yankees out of the country. Another stated that he would be willing to drink all the blood that would be shed as the result of secession. It is said that both of these orators were asked for an explanation by their constituents after the war was over. The first said that the reason he didn't run the Yankees out of the country with popguns was because they wouldn't fight that way. The second one, who had promised to drink all the blood, said that exposure in camp had interfered with his digestion, and his appetite wasn't as good as it ought to be.

At this time and afterwards there was an overwhelming sentiment in favor of the Union in some parts of North Georgia. The people of that section had few slaves, and the arguments in favor of the protection of slavery in the Territories did not appeal to them: consequently they were opposed to secession. There was but one thing that prevented serious trouble between these Union men and the State government, and that was the fact that Joe Brown was governor. He knew the North Georgians thoroughly, and he knew precisely how to deal with them. General Harrison W. Riley, a leading citizen of Lumpkin County, declared that he intended to seize the mint at Dahlonega, and hold it for the United States. This threat was telegraphed to Governor Brown by some of the secession leaders in that part of the State, and they appealed to him to send troops to Dahlonega at once, and seize the mint by force. But the governor knew Riley and the people of North Georgia too well to make any show of force. He knew that any such demonstration would excite sympathy for Riley, and inflame the Union sentiment there.. So Governor Brown wrote to some of Riley's friends, telling them what he had heard, and saying that he had known General Riley too long, and had too high an opinion of his good sense and patriotism, to believe the report. At the same time the governor informed the superintendent of the mint that the State of Georgia now held that institution. The superintendent said he was willing to act under the orders of the governor.

At Jasper, the county seat of Pickens County, the feeling of loyalty to the Union was very strong. The delegate from that county to the State convention had refused to sign his name to the ordinance of secession. Soon after the State had seceded, the citizens of Jasper planted a pole, and raised on it a United States flag, and kept it floating there for several weeks in open defiance of the Confederate and State authorities. This was an event to be delicately handled. The slightest mistake would have created a state of feeling in North Georgia that would have given no end of trouble during the whole war. But the Union flag floating in Pickens County irritated the rest of the State; and hundreds of appeals were made to Governor Brown to send troops to Jasper, and have the flag taken down by force. To these appeals he made but one response, and then turned a deaf ear to all criticism. "Let the flag float there," he said. "It floated over our fathers, and we all love the flag now. We have only been compelled to lay it aside by the injustice that has been practiced under its folds. If the people of Pickens desire to hang it out and keep it there, let them do so. I shall send no troops to interfere with it."

While this wise management on the part of Governor Brown did not change the sentiments of the Union men of North Georgia, it prevented any serious outbreak, and kept them soothed and quieted throughout the war. Matters were managed differently in East Tennessee; and the result was, that the Union men of that section went into the business of bushwhacking, and created a great deal of trouble. While Governor Brown exercised authority without regard for precedent, the time and the occasion being without precedent, he was very wise and very prudent in meeting such emergencies as those that arose in North Georgia.

By the time the election for governor came on, Joe Brown had aroused a good deal of opposition. He had had a controversy with the Confederate authorities because the latter had enrolled troops from Georgia without first making a requisition on the governor. He had seized several cargoes of salt which the speculators had been holding for higher prices. There was at that early day, and all during the war, a salt famine in the South. The farmers found it difficult to save their meat, owing to the scarcity of salt. It is a curious fact, that, when the famine was at its height, a pound of salt was worth a pound of silver. Foreseeing this famine, a great many shrewd business men had laid in large stocks of salt, storing it about in large warehouses in different parts of the State. They were about to realize immense fortunes out of the sufferings of the people, when Governor Brown stepped in and seized all the salt the State authorities could lay hands on, and prohibited the shipment of the article out of the State. The Legislature afterwards came to the support of the governor; but if the matter had been discussed in the Legislature in advance of the action of the executive, the speculators would have had timely notice, and the State authorities would have found no salt to seize.

This salt famine was almost as serious as any result of the war, and it hung over the State until the close of the contest. In thousands of instances the planters who had been prodigal of salt before the war, dug up the dirt floors of their smokehouses, and managed to extract a small supply of the costly article. The Legislature was compelled to organize a salt bureau, and for that purpose half a million dollars was appropriated. The State, in self-defense, took into its own hands the monopoly of manufacturing salt and of distributing it to the people.

The next difficulty with which the people of Georgia had to contend was the Conscription Act. This act passed the Confederate Congress in April, 1862. It had been recommended by Mr. Davis in a special message, and Congress promptly passed it. Nobody in Georgia could understand why such a law had been recommended, or why it had passed. It was the most ruinous blunder of the Confederate Government during the war. If such a law was necessary, it showed that the Confederacy had fallen to pieces. If it was not necessary, its enactment was a stupendous piece of folly; and such it turned out to be. Under the last call for troops for Confederate service, Governor Brown had no difficulty in furnishing eighteen regiments. He could have gone on furnish ing troops as long as there was any fighting material left in the State; but as soon as the Conscript Act went into operation, the ardor of the people sensibly cooled. The foolish law not only affected the people at home, but hurt the army in the field. It was a reflection on the patriotism of the whole Southern population. The law was the occasion of a controversy between Governor Brown and President Davis, in which Brown, in the nature of things, had a decided advantage; for the Conscript Act wiped out the whole theory of State rights, on which the people of the South depended to justify secession. But Georgia did not stand in the way of the law. It was enforced, and the terms of its enforcement did the work of disorganization more thoroughly than the hard times and the actual war were doing it.

In March, 1863, the governor issued a proclamation convening the Legislature in special session to discuss the subject of bread. This was a very important subject at that time. In his message, the governor said that the time had come for the farmers to raise bread instead of cotton. He also laid before the Legislature' the reports of the distribution of the fund of two and a half millions of dollars for the support of the indigent families of soldiers. These reports showed what havoc the war had created among the people of a State which, not much more than two years before, was one of the most prosperous in the country. The fund had been distributed among more than eighty-four thousand people. Of this number, about forty-six thousand were children, twenty-four thousand were kinswomen of poor living soldiers, eight thousand were orphans, four thousand were widows of dead soldiers, and five hundred were soldiers disabled in service. Governor Brown, out of his own barn, gave the people of Cherokee County four thousand dollars' worth of corn. These events show the straits to which the people had been reduced by two years of actual war.

It should be borne in mind, however, that the people had to fight the Union army in front, and the speculators and extortioners in the rear. Governor Brown tried hard to make the lives of this latter class entirely miserable, and he succeeded in a way that delighted the people. Wherever he could get his hands on a speculator or extortioner, he shook him up. He made many seizures, and confiscated the hoards of a great many men who had influence with some of the newspapers; and in this way life in the State was made almost as exciting as the experience of the soldiers at the front.

In 1863, Governor Brown wanted to retire from office. The strain on his health and strength had been very severe, and he felt that he was breaking down. He wanted to make Toombs, who was then a general in the army, his successor. But Brown's friends insisted that he should make the race. The public opinion of Georgia and of the whole South insisted on it. So he became a candidate for a fourth term. He had two opponents,--Joshua Hill, who had been a strong Union man; and Timothy Furlow, who was an ardent secessionist and a strong supporter of the Confederate administration; but Governor Brown was elected by a large majority over both candidates.

The war went steadily on, and during the year 1864 Georgia became the battle ground,--the strategic point. This fact the Union commanders realized very early, and began their movements accordingly. Virginia was merely the gateway to the Confederacy, but Georgia was very near the center of its vitality. This was shown by the fact that when Atlanta fell, and Sherman began his destructive march to the sea, it was known on all sides that the Confederate Government was doomed. This movement, strange to say, was hastened by the Confederate authorities. General Joseph E. Johnston, one of the greatest commanders of the war, was removed at a critical moment, when his well-disciplined army had reached Atlanta. He was ordered from Richmond to turn his army over to the command of General Hood, and within a very few days the fate of the Confederacy had been decided. Hood at once ordered an attack on Sherman's lines. He was repulsed, and then compelled to evacuate the city. General Sherman detached General Thomas from his main army to follow Hood on his march toward the Tennessee, and moved across the State to Savannah. Within a very few months thereafter the war was brought to a close. Colonel I. W. Avery, in his "History of Georgia," says that on the thirty-first day of December, 1864, one dollar in gold was worth forty-nine dollars in Confederate money. The private soldier received eleven dollars of this money for a month's service. He could buy a pound of meat with his month's pay. He could buy a drink of whisky, and have one dollar left over. With four months' pay he could buy a bushel of wheat. General Toombs once humorously declared that a negro pressman worked all day printing money, and then until nine o'clock at night to pay himself off. There was a grain of truth in this humor,--just enough to picture the situation as by a charcoal sketch.

A DARING ADVENTURE.

On the 12th day of April, 1862, the anniversary of the firing on Fort Sumter by the Confederates, a passenger train pulled out of the old car shed in Atlanta. It was a "mixed" train, being composed of three freight cars, a baggage car, and the passenger coaches. The train started from Atlanta at an early hour, arrived at Marietta about daylight, and stopped at Big Shanty, about seven miles north of Marietta, for breakfast. At Marietta, early as the hour was, quite a crowd of passengers were waiting to take the train. This excited no remark. There was a good deal of travel and traffic on the State Road at that time, for it was the key to the Confederacy--the one artery that connected the army at the front with its source of supplies.

The conductor of the train was Captain William A. Fuller, of Atlanta. Captain Fuller's title was not one of courtesy. He was a captain in the Confederate Army, on detached service. The engineer in charge of the locomotive was Jeff Cain. Mr. Antony Murphy, an employee of the road, was also on the train. At Big Shanty the passengers were allowed twenty minutes for breakfast, but the train men were in the habit of dispatching their meal a little quicker than this, so as to see that everything about the locomotive was shipshape when the conductor tapped the bell. Captain Fuller, sitting at a table near a window, had a full view of the train. He had hardly begun to eat before he saw the locomotive (the now famous "General") and the three freight cars pull out, and heard the gong sound as the cord snapped. He rose instantly and rushed from the breakfast room, followed by Engineer Cain and Antony Murphy. He saw the "General" going at full speed up the road with three freight cars attached. Without hesitation Captain Fuller started after the flying train on foot, followed by Cain and Murphy. Hundreds of soldiers were idling about the station. They had no idea what was taking place. They thought either that the locomotive had been carried up the track to take on or leave a freight car, or that some practical joker was playing a prank. They showed their enjoyment of the situation by laughing and cheering loudly when Captain Fuller, followed by Engineer Cain and Mr. Murphy, started after the "General "on foot.

The locomotive had been captured, and had the plan of its captors been successful, a paralyzing, perhaps a fatal, blow would have been struck at the Confederacy. The way the capture had come about was this: Early in 1862 the Federal commanders planned an advance on Chattanooga; but the fact that stood in their way was, that at various points along the line of railroad leading from Atlanta to Chattanooga, Confederate troops had been posted: consequently the moment an advance on Chattanooga was made, soldiers and war supplies could be hurried forward to the relief of the city. It was General Mitchell of the Federal army who planned the advance; and it was J. J. Andrews, an active spy in the Union service, who planned a raid by means of which it was intended to burn the bridges on the road north of Marietta, cut the telegraph wires, and thus destroy for a time the lines of transportation and communication between Atlanta and Chattanooga, and make the capture of the last-named point an easy matter. Andrews suggested to General Mitchell that a party of bold men could make their way to a station on the Western and Atlantic Railway (called the State Road because it was owned by the State), capture a locomotive, and then steam towards Chattanooga, burning the bridges and cutting the telegraph lines as they went along. Although there seemed to be small chance for the success of such a daring adventure, General Mitchell gave his consent to it, agreeing to pay Andrews sixty thousand dollars if he succeeded. To aid him, Andrews was allowed to select a number of young men who had already made a reputation in the Federal army for intelligence and bravery.

There were twenty-four men in this small expedition when it started for Chattanooga. They were under the command of Andrews, who was a tall, handsome man with a long black beard. He was cold, impassive, and had the air of one who is born to command. He was bold as a lion, and never once lost his coolness, his firmness, or his decision. He and his men pretended to be Kentuckians who had become disgusted with the Lincoln government and were making their way South, where they might find more congenial company than that of the ardent Union men who were their neighbors at home. This story was plausible on the face of it, for many Southern sympathizers had fled from Tennessee and Kentucky when the Federals began to take possession of those sections.

Andrews and his men tramped southward more than a hundred miles before they reached Chattanooga. Before going into that city, they divided into smaller squads, and all but two succeeded in eluding guards, sentinels, and patrols, and passing into the town. They left Chattanooga on a train bound for Atlanta, buying tickets for Marietta. They reached Marietta in safety, and went to different hotels for the night. They had arranged to meet again at four o'clock the next morning and take the north-bound train. Two of the men were not called by the clerk of the hotel at which they stopped: consequently they overslept, and their companions had to go on without them when the train arrived. They had learned that Big Shanty had no telegraph office, and that it was a breakfast station. At that point Andrews determined to capture the locomotive. It was not long before the brakeman put his head in at the door of the car and yelled out, "Big Shanty! Twenty minutes for breakfast!"

Andrews and his men looked out of the windows of the car as the train drew up at the station, and the sight they saw was not calculated to make them feel certain of success. Opposite the station was a field covered with the tents of soldiers, and in and around the station thousands of soldiers were loitering and standing about. When the train stopped, Andrews, the leader, and Knight, an engineer who had come with the party, rose and left the coach on the side opposite the depot, and went to the locomotive, which they found empty. They also saw that the track was clear. Andrews and Knight then walked back until they came to the last of the three box cars. Andrews told his engineer to uncouple the baggage car from the box car, and then wait for him. Knight did as he was told, while Andrews walked leisurely back to the passenger coach, opened the door, and said quietly, "Now is our time, boys! Come on!"

The men rose at once and went out of the coach. Knight, as soon as he saw them coming, climbed into the locomotive, cut the bell rope, and stood with his hand on the throttle, waiting for the word. Andrews stood near the locomotive, and motioned with his hand for the men to get into the box cars, the doors of which were slid back. All the men were now in the box cars except Andrews, Knight, and another engineer named Brown, who ran forward and climbed into the locomotive. While this was going on, a sentinel stood within half a dozen yards of the train, but he had no idea what was occurring. Andrews gave the signal to go ahead. Instantly Knight pulled the throttle valve open, and the locomotive started forward with a jerk. It went puffing and snorting out of Big Shanty without let or hindrance.

But the train had not gone very far before the speed of the locomotive began to slacken. The fire in the furnace refused to burn, and the steam was low. While the engineer was trying to discover what was wrong, Andrews ordered the men to cut the telegraph wire and tear up a rail from the track. By the time the rail had been torn up and the wire cut, the engineer had discovered that the dampers of the fire box were closed. With these open, the boiler began to make steam again, and the locomotive was soon rattling over the rails once more. It was the intention of Andrews to run the captured train on the time of the regular passenger train, so that he would have only one train to meet and pass before reaching the Resaca River, where he intended to burn the bridge. This done, it would have been an easy matter to burn the bridges over the Chickamauga. This crooked stream winds about the valleys so unexpectedly, and in such curious fashion, that the railroad crosses it eleven times within a few miles. These eleven bridges Andrews intended to burn as he went along, and then he would not fear pursuit. His success seemed to be certain.

The captured locomotive, an old-fashioned machine with a big heavy smokestack, went clanking and clattering along the road, and reeling and rumbling through the towns, dragging after it the three box cars containing the men whom Andrews had brought with him. After passing a station, the locomotive would be stopped and the wire cut. When the train reached Cassville, wood and water were running low, and a stop was made to get a fresh supply. The doors of the box cars were closed, and the men inside could not be seen. The station agent at this place was very inquisitive. He wanted to know why so small and insignificant a freight train was running on the time of the morning passenger train. Andrews promptly told the agent that the train was not a freight, but an express, and that it was carrying three cars of gunpowder to Beauregard. The agent believed the story, and furnished Andrews with a train schedule.