November 19, 1864---A Woman's Wartime Journal

NOVEMBER 19, 1864:                

Dolly Sumner Lunt, the author of A Woman’s Wartime Journal, was a native of Massachusetts. Mrs. Lunt was a planter’s wife in Georgia during Sherman’s March To The Sea. Her husband was off fighting in the Confederate Army when Sherman’s main column came through and despoiled her plantation, Burge House.

Dolly’s diary entry for this day clearly expresses the horrors that typical Georgians experienced during the March.  Of particular note are Dolly’s comments regarding the taking of her “boys” (her slaves), the clear sorrow she felt, and the fear they felt as they were forcibly emancipated.  Mrs. Lunt’s comments about the slaves are notably patronizing, but they are not cruel, nor dismissive.  

Dolly Sumner Lunt’s home was spared from total destruction since the Yankee officer in charge of the raid turned out to be a friend of her brother: 

Slept in my clothes last night, as I heard that the Yankees went to  . . . Montgomery's on Thursday night . . .  searched his house, drank his wine, and took his money and valuables.  [T]he Yankees went to . . . Perry's . . . plundered his house, and drove off all his stock . . . I saw some blue-coats coming down the hill. [Perry] immediately raised his gun, swearing he would kill them anyhow.

"No, don't!" said I, and ran home as fast as I could . . .

I could hear them cry, "Halt! Halt!" and their guns went off in quick succession. Oh God, the time of trial has come!

I walked to the gate. There they came filing up . . . I hastened back to my frightened servants and told them that they had better hide  . . . like demons [the Yankees] rush in! My yards are full. To my smoke-house, my dairy, pantry, kitchen, and cellar, like famished wolves they come, breaking locks and whatever is in their way. The thousand pounds of meat in my smoke-house is gone in a twinkling, my flour, my meat, my lard, butter, eggs, pickles of various kinds --- both in vinegar and brine --- wine, jars, and jugs are all gone. My eighteen fat turkeys, my hens, chickens, and fowls, my young pigs, are shot down in my yard and hunted as if they were rebels themselves. Utterly powerless I ran out and appealed to the guard.

"I cannot help you, Madam; it is orders."

As I stood there . . .  I saw driven . . .  old Dutch, my dear old buggy horse . . . then came old Mary, my brood mare . . . with her three-year-old colt, my two-year-old mule, and her last little baby colt. There they go! There go my mules, my sheep, and, worse than all, my boys [slaves]!

Alas! little did I think while trying to save my house from plunder and fire that they were forcing my boys from home at the point of the bayonet .  . . Jack came crying to me, the big tears coursing down his cheeks, saying they were making him go. I said:

"Stay in my room."

But a man followed in, cursing him and threatening to shoot him if he did not go . . . I had not believed they would force from their homes the poor, doomed negroes, but such has been the fact here, cursing them and saying that "Jeff Davis wanted to put them in his army, but that they should not fight for him, but for the Union." No! Indeed no! They are not friends to the slave. We have never made the poor, cowardly negro fight, and it is strange, passing strange, that the all-powerful Yankee nation with the whole world to back them, their ports open, their armies filled with soldiers from all nations, should at last take the poor negro to help them out against this little Confederacy which was to have been brought back into the Union in sixty days' time!

My poor boys! My poor boys ! What unknown trials are before you! How you have clung to your mistress and assisted her in every way you knew.

Never have I corrected them; a word was sufficient. Never have they known want of any kind. Their parents are with me, and how sadly they lament the loss of their boys. Their cabins are rifled of every valuable, the soldiers swearing that their Sunday clothes were the white people's, and that they never had money to get such things  as they had. Poor Frank's chest was broken open, his money and tobacco taken. He has always been a money-making and saving boy; not infrequently has his crop brought him five hundred dollars and more . . .

A Captain Webber from Illinois came into my house. Of him I claimed protection from the vandals who were forcing themselves into my room. He said that he knew my brother Orrington. At that name I could not restrain my feelings, but, bursting into tears, implored him to see my brother and let him know my destitution. I saw nothing before me but starvation. He promised to do this, and comforted me with the assurance that my dwelling-house would not be burned . . . Poor little Sadai went crying to him as to a friend and told him that they had taken her doll, Nancy [The doll was found and was returned to the little girl. Her children later played with it, and it is now the plaything of her granddaughter.] . . . I parted as with a friend.

Sherman himself and a greater portion of his army passed my house that day . . .  desolating my home --- wantonly doing it when there was no necessity for it.

Such a day, if I live to the age of Methuselah, may God spare me from ever seeing again!

My Heavenly Father alone saved me from the destructive fire. Shall I ever forget the deliverance?

To-night I could not close my eyes . . . watching the fires in the distance and dreading the approaching day, which, I feared . . . would be but a continuation of horrors.

Lunt’s diary is a fascinating document, in many ways an encapsulation of the contradictions that bedeviled the Confederacy. Lunt refers to “this little Confederacy” as the victim of the mighty Union, and as her slaves --- her “boys” --- as unwilling “cowardly,” “crying,” “doomed” victims of the Union soldiers sent to free them. We are given a heartbreaking portrait of the dissolution of a relationship between Mistress and slave that is almost analogous to the treatment accorded one’s pets. Lunt points out that her “boys” are taken off by force but that their parents remain behind. We do not know however if this is the treatment accorded to all her “servants.” We also do not know if she bewailed the fate of all her slaves or only favored ones. And we do not know if any of her “boys” decided to go off with Sherman’s men on their own.

All in all, this passage underscores the shambolic nature of American antebellum slavery, a condition in which the slave was seen only as property in the strictest Jeffersonian sense. Completely unregulated except in the negative (slaves could not be educated, could not travel without passes, and had no inherent inalienable rights), “the peculiar institution” of the South was in many ways the worst expression of human bondage ever seen. Slaves could be (and often were) sold away from their families. They were routinely branded, often beaten, frequently whipped. President Theodore Roosevelt told the tale of his mother Mittie Bulloch’s prewar “shadow”, Toy, both playmate and servant, and how Mittie’s older brother killed his own “shadow” in a fit of pique to much regret but no serious consequences (this same brother later killed a man in a duel, another steadfast Southern tradition).  

Slaves who ran off were given no hearing; they were forcibly, often violently, returned to their owners. Slave women were, without recourse, subject to the sexual attentions of Masters and other white males on the plantations. If Simon Legree of Uncle Tom’s Cabin was a caricature of the wicked slaveowner, it was much a matter of degree. An enlightened Master (like Jefferson Davis) might punish wrongs committed by slaves on his property via the mechanism of an in-house slave-run court system, but this was not the norm, and there was no State or interstate system that gave any even de minimus legal protection to blacks. The classical Greek idea of having a slave tutor an owner’s children in the Homeric epics was beyond comprehension to even the most enlightened Southern slaveowner, as much as was the idea of an offer of manumission every seven years (and mandatory manumission every fifty years) that was enshrined in the laws of ancient Israel.  

November 18, 1864---The garrison at Macon

NOVEMBER 18, 1864:     

Georgia is in an uproar. The fire-eating political General, Howell Cobb (once Secretary of the Treasury of the United States), General “Old Reliable” William Hardee, and General P.G.T Beauregard are all sent by Jefferson Davis to defend the city of Macon from William Tecumseh Sherman as he marches to the sea. Altogether, they have 10,000 men to defend Macon, as opposed to Sherman’s 60,000. Although Sherman pillages the nearby State capital, Milledgeville, he almost insolently ignores and bypasses Macon. The three Confederate generals elect to garrison Macon, the location of the Georgia Arsenal, and send out pickets, skirmishers and raiding parties to interfere with the Yankees. Sherman’s men bat them aside like so many gnats. 

November 17, 1864: "The great danger . . . has come upon the country."

NOVEMBER 17, 1864:      

Colonel (later General) T.W. Brevard writes to his father, General T.W. Brevard regarding the re-election of Abraham Lincoln. His letter reads in part:

  

The re-election of Lincoln gives us the certainty of four more years of war . . . made constantly necessary by . . . bloody and wasting campaigns . . . [and by the] European Governments [who do not] depart from the[ir] non-intervention policy . . . The Northern people are completely in subjection to the Washington Government. No ruler is more absolute than Lincoln . . .  We . . . long ago ceased to hope for foreign intervention. There is no earthly chance for terms of agreement . . . for Lincoln makes it a condition precedent . . . that we shall lay down our arms and abolish slavery. We stand therefore at the expiration of nearly four years of bloodshed in the face of a powerful military despotism armed with every possible warlike appointment and equipment, determined . . . upon our subjugation, and we have no choice but to fight for it to the bitter end. Long ago I said . . .  that the great danger . . . in our struggle was the possible depression and arrest of fortitude on the part of our people . . . in the event of Lincoln’s re-election . . . That test has come upon the country and may God grant the people of the South strength and grace to . . . meet the issue honestly and defiantly. 

Thomas Jefferson Moses is a Union soldier engaged in Sherman’s March to the Sea. In a quick diary entry he writes:

To day we marched 20 miles. We come through Jackson a prety nice town. To day our regiment was train guard. We marched very hard to day.

November 16, 1864---The Richmond 'Times-Dispatch': "It is impossible for Sherman to make a move of any moment"

NOVEMBER 16, 1864:                

The Richmond Times-Dispatch publishes an editorial (reprinted in part) explaining in detail to its readers why General Sherman cannot possibly be marching through Georgia. The newspaper's assurances give, in retrospect, a clear picture of the terrible state of communications in the Confederacy in the late Fall of 1864:

The Yankee newspapers are, just now, filled with a deal of nonsensical speculation as to Sherman's movements. All unite in stating that he is about to execute a grand move, but none of them agree in what it is to be. The most popular, because the most absurd and sensational idea is, that, having laid Atlanta in ashes, he is marching across the country to Charleston,  four hundred miles distant. We have no official information of Sherman's designs, but we are in possession of authentic information which convinces us that the Yankee newspapers are as far wide of the truth in their speculations on the subject as they usually are in their pretended statements of facts . . . 

As to Atlanta, that Sherman should order its evacuation is not unlikely; but if he does so, it is simply an acknowledgement that he is unable to protect the railroad between that point and Chattanooga, and that its capture, which sent such a thrill of joy throughout the United States, has proved a barren victory . . . 

Sherman's transportation is in a woeful state. Persons lately from his lines say that mules drop dead daily in their tracks. The country around Atlanta, and the vacant lots in the city, are fetid with decaying horse and mule flesh. A prisoner made the statement that it was almost an impossibility to get a mouthful of hay or oats, and their draught animals were dying of starvation. He expressed surprise at the splendid condition of our horses . . . 

Thus it will be seen that it is impossible for Sherman to make a move of any moment; and he is believed to be in a desperate condition. With no stock, and no railroad transportation, he is powerless, and all his efforts will be futile.

November 15, 1864---Sherman begins his March To The Sea

NOVEMBER 15, 1864:       

The March To The Sea:                   

With the ruins of Atlanta still smoldering, sparks flying like motes in the breeze, and a dark and stinking cloud of consumption hanging over the ruined city, William Tecumseh Sherman gives his men the order to move out toward Savannah. In parting, they destroy the last rail lines in Atlanta, heating the iron rails on huge fires fueled with wooden ties. The softened rails are then twisted around tree trunks, telegraph poles, and fence posts, and are known ever after as “Sherman’s neckties.”

 

 

Sherman understands that the physical destruction of the city is but an adjunct to the psychological damage he is wreaking on the South by desecrating one of its crown jewels.

Sherman later wrote:

We rode out of Atlanta by the Decatur road, filled by the marching troops and wagons of the Fourteenth Corps; and reaching the hill, just outside of the old rebel works, we naturally paused to look back upon the scenes of our past battles. We stood upon the very ground whereon was fought the bloody battle of July 22d, and could see the copse of wood where McPherson fell. Behind us lay Atlanta, smouldering and in ruins, the black smoke rising high in air, and hanging like a pall over the ruined city. Away off in the distance, on the McDonough road, was the rear of Howard's column, the gun-barrels glistening in the sun, the white-topped wagons stretching away to the south; and right before us the Fourteenth Corps, marching steadily and rapidly, with a cheery look and swinging pace, that made light of the thousand miles that lay between us and Richmond. Some band, by accident, struck up the anthem of "John Brown's soul goes marching on;" the men caught up the strain, and never before or since have I heard the chorus of "Glory, glory, hallelujah!" done with more spirit, or in better harmony of time and place.

  

Sherman later estimated that the March To The Sea inflicted $100 million (1864) or $1.5 billion (2010) in damage to the South, a mere 20% of which directly "inured to our advantage." He called the rest "simple waste and destruction." Sherman’s two “wings” (supported by a free-ranging cavalry wing) destroyed 300 miles of railroad track, numerous bridges and trestles, and hundreds of miles of telegraph lines. 5,000 horses, 4,000 mules, and 13,000 head of cattle were seized from Southerners along the way, as well as uncountable chickens, ducks, geese and turkeys. The army tore up gardens, raided harvest stores, and confiscated outright 9.5 million pounds of corn and 10.5 million pounds of fodder. There is no estimate (beyond “thousands”) of the number of cotton gins and mills destroyed, nor of the number of barns and farm outbuildings gutted, nor the tonnage of farm implements destroyed. 

One of the local inhabitants’ great fears was that they knew neither where Sherman’s men were nor where they were headed; thus, fleeing was as bad a choice as staying. And as Sherman marched his men liberated thousands of slaves who followed behind Sherman’s wings. At least 40,000 African-American men, women, and children were emancipated during the March To The Sea.

Sherman gave strict orders that farmhouses and town residences were not to be despoiled. He also forbade the harassment of defenseless women and children on pain of execution. But unlike other campaigns, the men engaged in the March To The Sea did not stay ordered in its two columns. Instead the men fanned out over a swath of Georgia countryside nearly 70 miles wide. Farm buildings were ordered burned on the flanks just so Sherman could estimate by the smoke where his flanks were.   

Under such conditions it was impossible to maintain full military discipline; without a question rapes, abuses, brutalizations and other war atrocities occurred. Sherman’s rampaging foragers become known, amongst themselves and amongst Southerners, as “bummers,” and the bummers’ freedom to go wherever they chose convinced most Georgians (and many Confederates elsewhere) that the South’s until then vaunted army was unable to protect the citizenry from simple marauders. In all, Sherman’s wings cast their destructive shadow on 21,000 of Georgia’s 60,000 square miles, leaving ruin wherever they touched.